We have reached the part of our program---school is closed for the third day in a row, and we are more or less housebound, and the children are crabby and everybody is sick of everybody else---where I am back to my standard coping mechanisms. This means that by the time the kids go to bed at night, I am basically non-verbal and can only handle a bare minimum of human interaction, provided it occurs during the commercial breaks (or fast-forwarding through the recorded commercials) of mindless shows on the television. In other words: The kids go to bed, I go to the couch. I grunt or mutter in...
The kids are coming home today, so yesterday Otto and I tried to cram in everything we might want to do before they're back. The day ended with a trip to The High to see the Dali exhibit, and it was blissfully free of "this is boring"s, "what's with his moustache"s, and "he's touching me"s. At one point, we overheard this: Her: So you're a writer? Him: Yeah, that's right. I'm a writer. Her: So what sorts of things do you write? Him: Well... right now I have a book in editing. Her: Really? What's it about? Him: Oh... you know... just... fiction. Her: Fiction, huh? Him: Yep, fiction. Her: So...
So yesterday I ran around doing various pre-party prep things, and then I made Otto come home early so he could be here when Monkey got off the bus, because I had a therapy appointment go talk about MAH FEEEEEEEELINGS. "We really need dog food," I told him, before I left. "Do you think I could just run over to the pet store after, and get that? I mean, assuming I don't spend the entire hour weeping?" Otto looked a little bit alarmed at this. I assured him that I don't ALWAYS spend the hour weeping. He relaxed a little and told me to take my time, but I reminded him that I am Bad At...
I am not a Party Person. I mean, I am perfectly happy to come to YOUR party, particularly if you have food. I am just not a party planner sort of person. Or a party-having sort of person. It was not something my family did, growing up, and something I'm still not entirely comfortable with. [Digression: The easiest way to make people think you probably led an abused childhood, chained to a bare metal bedframe in the basement, is to tell them that you've never had a birthday party. I do not recommend this course of action while actually AT a party, because that many people staring at you with...
Monkey is doing a Big Project on the Holocaust for school. He's been "working on it in class" which means, of course, that this weekend we've discovered he's done... next to nothing. Monkey is many fine and wonderful things, but one of his dubious "talents" is the ability to appear extremely productive when, in fact, he is simply working on spitball origami or dreaming up the five hundred latest characters in the pseudo-Pokemon world of his own creation. Needless to say, we've been a bit busy with other concerns about Monkey, so I'll be the first to admit we haven't been as on top of his...
Today I'm grateful for hubcaps. Particularly, this hubcap: I took Monkey to a doctor's appointment this week and when we were done, my left rear hubcap was missing. I called Otto in an indignant rage; who the hell steals ONE HUBCAP in the middle of the day in the middle of town? Otto said, "I'll take care of it." And he did. Like magic. A new hubcap showed up in the mail, and then on my car. I could've lived with a missing hubcap. But Otto took care of it. Because that's just how he is. That there hubcap? IT'S MY VERY FAVORITE. (This is not really about my hubcap. Just in case you couldn't...
Today I am running around, trying to do at least twelve things at once. There's work to be done and errands to attend to and the dog wants to play (which, YAY, but also, kind of busy here, pup!) and despite their "help" I had to really clean the kids' bathroom, today, just to preserve my own sanity. This afternoon my mother-in-law and her sister (Otto's aunt and godmother) are arriving for their first visit to our home in Georgia. For those of you who are new, or maybe just to refresh your memory, Otto's mom was sick and unable to travel for far too long. After a prolonged and scary medical...
So today I was still sick, and like a responsible human who has been threatened by her husband if she doesn't call the damn doctor already I called my doctor and went in to chat with her about this little problem where it's become difficult to breathe, lately. To her credit, my doctor was a little alarmed about that. As I sat there and bemoaned the fact that I have really been working really hard on getting fit this year, I've lost weight and started exercising regularly and STILL I seem to get sick all the time... she looked at her computer and looked at me and helpfully offered, "You...
I know I've told you before about how really, the biggest adjustment for me in moving south was the seriousness of the bugs around here. The insects in Georgia are just not screwing around, man, they are here to REPRESENT. As such, having a Bug Guy is---to my mind, anyway, and those of any sane people with whom I've spoken---just not optional 'round here. Having a maid is optional. Having curbside trash pick-up is optional (if you don't mind driving to the dump). Having a company that will keep creepy germ-encrusted twitchy exoskeletons filled with SQUICK out of your house is NOT OPTIONAL....
