Actual unretouched conversation preceding this post, over breakfast: Me: Is it okay with you if I blog about last night? Otto: *raises his eyebrows in the classic "Are you on crack?" gesture* Me: No. No! Not, you know, ALL of last night. But... you know, the early parts. Otto: *shakes his head slowly, wide-eyed, conveying that I'm trying to kill him* Me: Otto! I just mean... you KNOW what I mean. I'm not going to say anything... inappropriate. But I know you're descended from Puritans and easily embarrassed, SO I'M ASKING. If it's going to mortally embarrass you, I won't. Otto: *sighing*...
The whole situation with the fence has gotten so intolerable, we've run away from home. Okay, fine, STRICTLY SPEAKING that's not quite true. I mean, sure, we ARE on Day 25 of our one and a half day fence job, and it is absolutely true that it is not yet done, and it is also true that Fence Guy, after offering to rip down the fence and build us a new one then had the BIG GIANT BRASS ONES to come back and ask for a materials deposit, and when we pointed out that we'd already put down thousands of dollars, remember? (subtext: OH HELLS NO), he emailed Otto and said "Well then we'll need another...
I feel like I haven't talked too much about darling Otto, recently, and this is not because my adoration for him has waned in any way. In fact, I would have to say that during my recent bout of The Crayzee he continued to be nothing less than a pillar of strength and support. It's funny; I was talking with a freshly-divorced friend the other day, and she asked me how I ever managed to get to a place where I could even consider trusting a relationship again, much less remarrying. And I had to confess that Otto and I have known each other for over half our lives; I'm not sure I ever could've...
We have arrived once again at the portion of our program where life needs to pause, briefly, so that Otto and I can contemplate our life together. The fact that I have been half-joking for weeks that thinking too hard about this past year can only lead to madness was not a deterrent to my handsome husband; today's our anniversary/familyversary and that means CELEBRATION. Regular readers may recall that last year on our anniversary, Otto looked up the traditional 3rd anniversary gift and found that it was leather. Not wanting to deal with a vegetarian-staged protest over his gifting attempt,...
I currently have this book sitting on my desk for review, and I hope the authors don't mind me borrowing from their title. (The book is great; it gives kids on the spectrum practice with identifying emotions via facial expression. I can only assume that the correlating adult book would feature such directives as "point to socially acceptable" and "point to pretty," instead, but I prefer this version.) My folks headed back home, yesterday. In the middle of the afternoon I got a helpful automated phone call from their airline, letting me know that their flight had been canceled. As they were...
You asked (over on Facebook) for the famous Mir's Dad to come and write so, while my lovely bride (oh, hey - this is Otto tapping at you now) is off getting lovelier, he was ordered to hunt and peck his way through writer's block (hard, when you're an architect by trade and nature, to problem solve in your kid's realm) and create the following missive. So, some rules: We love Mir's dad. He's awesome. You must agree to this before clicking through to his post. No nasty comments or he'll leave mean ones on your blog. The chances of him registering "mirsdad.com" are pretty slim, but you can...
My nice quiet bubble of solitude has been popped. Chickadee came home filled with stories about her trip, all of the things they did and which kid said what and how she ordered a veggie burger one day that was GREEN on the inside, SO GROSS. Me: Maybe that means it was made of real vegetables! Did you try it? Her: No, it was just GROSS. Veggie burgers are not supposed to be GREEN. Me: Plenty of vegetables are green. Maybe instead of soy and chemicals it was made of GREEN VEGETABLES? Her: I don't think so. Me: So what did you end up eating? Her: Oh, it's okay! I had my french fries, and a...
Haaaaaaaaappy Valentine's Day! I hope that today brings you whatever form of either commercially-sanctioned or rail-against-the-MAN celebration you desire. I know that some women tell their significant others, "No, really, I don't need to celebrate, we don't need to do anything, honey," and then they would go sulk when their words were heeded and the day was, indeed, nothing special. Me, we're closing in on four years of marriage, and it is still 100% true that I am grateful for Otto every single day. I mean, sure, I guess I could demand/expect flowers or chocolate on this particular day,...
Otto doesn't like it when I brag about him. I love him dearly, but on this he can suck it up because I don't think I'm ever going to stop being amazed at how he just never, ever phones it in with these kids of mine. And I am here to tell you that---while also beautiful, talented, funny, and amazing---my kids can be GIGANTIC pains in the butt. No one would BLAME Otto for occasionally throwing his hands in the air and walking away, is my point. Chickadee is at a magical age. One minute she is hilarious and loving and perfect and the next... uhhhh... somewhat less so. (AHEM.) ("Mom, why do all...
