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The only constant is change

Scintillating life development this week: I went to make myself a haircut appointment—as the weather warms up, my hair has begun to expand accordingly—and discovered that my last cut was… last April. Granted, I’ve been growing my hair out more or less ever since I stopped dying it and cut it all off a couple of years ago, but still. The fact that I went almost an entire year without so much as a trim is an excellent metaphor for the year in general. Don’t worry, I’m getting it cut on Thursday. For my next trick, I may even remember to have my teeth cleaned.

Anyway. While I’m busy indulging in self-care (HAHAHAHAAAA) I’m also thinking about my kids’ futures (because why not). I can take care of the haircuts and dental hygiene and whatever, but I would really like it if society would stop telling them they have to figure out the rest of their lives before they turn 18. I’m grumbling about it over at Alpha Mom, because that’s what I do. You know, between haircuts.

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Elsewhere, an earworm

Apparently I’m still writing things in other places, on account of those pesky “contracts” and “bills to pay” and all of that. This week at Alpha Mom, I’m telling you why everyone’s favorite song of the moment has become my new anthem. Sure, it goes great with animated princesses, but it goes even better with floundering teens (for real).

Plus, it’s fun to sing in the car.

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Guess what last weekend was?

I know I didn’t talk about it a ton this year, but after all of the ice and snow and general mayhem of last week, we ended up putting on just two performances of The Vagina Monologues. (It was supposed to be four, and it’s a charity event, so the truncated schedule was kind of a bummer all around.)

Over the weekend I did a quickie “Hey, would you want to see video?” query over on the blog’s Facebook page, and your responses ran from “yes, please” to “WHY HAVEN’T YOU POSTED IT YET???” so I guess that was pretty clear. If you are NOT interested in hearing me be completely NSFW while making a lot of interesting faces (seriously, Chickie was asking me about why wrinkles happen, the other day, and I explained that your skin loses elasticity as you get older; when we watched this video after Otto made it, her first comment was, “I thought your face was supposed to be LOSING elasticity, Mom”), go ahead and skip this. Also note that there are a couple of skips/cutaways due to camera issues, but this is pretty much most of my piece.

“Because He Liked to Look At It” from woulda on Vimeo.

[And finally, you know I'm not one to beg on behalf of every pet cause, but this production is usually a big fundraiser for Project Safe and didn't make nearly the money it normally does due to the weather. If you felt like donating a few bucks to them---or your own local, similar organization---that would be pretty spectacular.]

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Hunkered down and craving french toast

The ZOMGSNOWPOCALYPSE is hitting Georgia right about… now. The kids only had half a day of school, there are actual snowflakes in the air, and rehearsal for The Vagina Monologues this evening has been canceled. (Did I mention that I was doing that again? I am. Also, I’m not quiiiite off-book yet, as I was supposed to be for tonight, so yay for canceled rehearsal!) (Did I spend an hour this morning doing chores around the house, belting out dialog about my vagina, much to the dogs’ consternation? Indeed I did. Duncan seemed particularly uncomfortable, which is saying something, because he regularly flops down in the middle of the floor to lick his phantom balls for an hour.)

Now that I’ve successfully rendered this post porn according to most search engines (HAAAAA), I thought it would be a good time to direct any whippersnappers to my post today at Alpha Mom about how these southern snow days do NOT remind me of my youth. And if that’s not enough—or if you’re in a cooking mood—last week I shared some suggestions for Super Bowl snacking, though here at Casa Mir we will, of course, be dining on Extreme Bitterness That The Patriots Aren’t Playing.

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We’re gonna need a bigger vacuum

Today ended up completely sideways and I don’t really know how or why. This is me cheering myself up with the conversation that STARTED the day, before everything went to crap.

Her: So explain to me, again, why you want to be cremated when you die?
Me: Well, for one thing, I’m cheap, and I think the cost associated with buying a hole in the ground and a fancy box to bury in it seems dumb to me. For another, I don’t believe that the body means anything after the soul leaves it. Why fancy it up? Get rid of it, I won’t be using it. And I don’t want a place that you feel compelled to maintain, or that you have to sit and feel sad.
Her: But… so… then what do you do with the ashes?
Me: Sometimes people keep them around, like in a pretty container, but lots of people rather they be scattered somewhere that made them happy. Don’t save my ashes, that’s creepy.
Her: Oooooooohhhh. Okay, so after Licorice dies, we should have her cremated and then spread her ashes under the couch in your office. And after YOU die, I should just dump the ashes in your bed.
Me: That seems kind of gross for Otto, if he’s still around.
Her: Nah, he’ll love it. He can still sleep with you every night!
Me: You’ve got it all figured out, I guess.
Her: Don’t worry, I’ll sprinkle Monkey on the keyboard when it’s his turn.
Me:
Her: What? It’s where he’s happy!

Debate continues as to where Duncan should go (maybe the landing on the stairs, though I feel he’s mostly just confused there, not really happy), but thankfully Otto has already picked his finally resting/sprinkling spot. [Note to self: Revise will to specify that Chickadee never gets to decide where anyone's ashes go.]

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tl;dr: Money makes me paranoid

I have not been sleeping particularly well these last few days. Otto was doing a work thing all weekend, which meant he was coming and going at weird hours, and we have a friend of his staying here (for said work thing), as well, and I love our dogs, you know, I love them SO MUCH, they bring such joy to my life, but they are not all that bright about guests in the house. After however many years it’s been (4? 5?), we’ve grown used to Licorice feeling the need to bark anew EVERY SINGLE MORNING no matter how many times she’s already encountered the same stranger in our house. (“You’re still here this morning? BARK! BARK! BARKBARKBARKBARK!”) But now she barks, and then Duncan barks and HOWLS, and no matter how we try to separate them or whatever—say, tucking Duncan in for the night in his customary spot in Monkey’s room, faaaaar from where the men are returning to the house late at night—the moment our guest steps in the house or appears on the stairs in the morning or DARES to visit the bathroom in the night, it’s the Barkpocalypse.

So: I’m sleepy. Sleepier than normal, anyway. I got up this morning and sat down to go through my email and had one of those CUSTOMER FRAUD ALERT DANGER DANGER WILL ROBINSON emails from Discover Card, which was awesome, because you KNOW how I love it when people screw around with my beloved credit card. (more…)

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Pottymouth

I don’t think it comes as any surprise to regular readers when I confess that I sometimes use curse words. (The horror!) Some people might consider this a moral failing or character defect, but I prefer to believe it’s not. After all, they’re just words, right?

Today I’m over at Alpha Mom trying to unravel modeling appropriate language behavior for my kids, now that swearing isn’t exactly off-limits, but it’s not necessarily awesome to hear coming from my teenagers’ mouths, either.

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The holidays ate me and all you got was this post

First the kids were off school for a week and then I was cooking for days and then it was Thanksgiving and then it was a million other things AND the first miserable cold of the season which we passed around to everyone in the house AND a bunch of work and school stuff AND one of those “now we must reevaluate our life choices and make everything more complicated!” revelations that I like to have when I’m sick and busy AND did I mention that the new dog’s favorite pastime is slurping up an entire bowl of water and then horking it right back up onto the kitchen floor? Because it is. (He’s cute, but not very bright.)

There’s more to tell, of course, but for right now, I’ll leave you with my latest at Alpha Mom, because it’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas, and if I think about it too much, I have MANY MANY FEELS. What a difference a year makes, sometimes.

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The course of true puppy love…

… never did run smooth, right?

Our first night with Duncan was a little rough. Today is better, and tomorrow will be better still. We’ll get there. In the meantime, it’s possible that my latest at Alpha Mom will cure you of wanting a second dog, just in case you’d been thinking that was a good idea.

On the other hand…

… Duncan just figured out how to use the doggie door out on the porch, and he was pretty proud of himself. So there’s that.

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The ongoing conversation…

I’ve been writing here for coming up on ten (!!) years, and I can still count my very favorite posts on a single hand. That means either that those posts are beyond stupendous and/or meaningful, or that a lot of what I write here is utter drivel. Let’s not think about it too hard.

One of incidents that will always hold a special place of combined hilarity and horror in my mind was detailed in this post from seven years ago wherein my darling daughter discovered that the human body is terrifying and disgusting.

A lot of time has passed, and I still ever-awkward in my sharing of Information I Think You Need when it comes to my kids. Probably they will never forgive me. Nevertheless, over at Alpha Mom I’m tackling the age-old topic of teenage dating, and yes, my children still wish I would just shut up, already.

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