Sunday morning coffee

It's a beautiful morning. I am now officially at the halfway point in my training for the Chicago Marathon. We ran 13 miles yesterday, and other than some residual stiffness in my legs I didn't feel any negative side effects when I woke up this morning.

We've decided to forgo a trip to the farmer's market today, since the industrious MizBubs stopped and loaded up on produce and fresh deli items at Valli on Friday. I think we're having a pork-free Sunday dinner--she's planning on some kind of stuffed relleno pepper dish. So that leaves me here with my coffee, having a few minutes to not do much of anything, which is always welcome.

I had one of those days on Friday. I'm dying to talk about it, because it says a lot about what my job is like, compared to what other people may think my job is like. I'm trying to find a way to describe it without seeming horribly offensive. I learned a long time ago that stuff I find to be hilarious or fascinating frequently strikes others as just horrible and sad. This point was really illustrated for me last year when I was describing, to some in-laws, a sexual assault investigation that one of our detectives handled at a local transient hotel. I described, in what I thought was a fairly entertaining manner, how the investigation unfolded. I got to the part where I asked the detective, who was fairly new at the time, what he thought about handling his first bizarre sex case. His response (which, to me, makes the whole story) was:

"Well, sarge, if you can't get excited about retard dildo sodomy, what can you get excited about?"

I noticed a couple of sets of wide, horrified eyes and gaping mouths regarding me across our back deck, and I realized that some stories maybe don't need telling. Or maybe, I thought, they just need a better audience! So, maybe later on tonight or tomorrow I'll give it a try.

In the meantime my eldest is sitting here next to me describing her outing to Nocturna at Metro last night. She says the theme last night was pretty girls with dopey guys. I know that's been the story of my marriage so far. We have a yard party to go to this afternoon, and I'll get to meet some of the hot librarians that MizBubs works with. I rarely see book people out in the sun, so I'm looking forward to that.

Now, proving once again that if you sit on your ass long enough the whole world will come to you, my youngest daughter, recently celebrated by a big-shot Chicago literary figure, has joined me, coffee in hand. We're enjoying some Gabby La La before starting our day for real.

See you later, alligator.