Slow learner, fast talker
I have mentioned before that I generally have a single cup of coffee or tea in the morning, and maybe one diet coke in the afternoon. I like caffeine. Honestly, I’m ALL FOR caffeine, but I drink it rather sparingly. I am not a caffeine-all-the-time person, at all.
You also may recall that I am all about the bargain and, indeed, count my frugality and deal-sniffing abilities amongst my finest talents, so it’s very rare that I partake of “fancy” coffee because GOOD LORD, $4 for something I can make at home for a quarter? SERIOUSLY?
Nevertheless, it remains a truth of life that sometimes you simply must have A Fancy Beverage out and about, and I try to deal with that as best I can. read more…
Fish tacos with estrogen salsa
Every now and then one member of the family manages to visit a proclivity on the rest of us, and before you know it, we’re all loving or doing the same thing. Hey, I never used to be a HUGE fan of fish. I mean, I liked fish just fine. I cooked it occasionally. But it was never one of my big things.
Back when Monkey still lived on big cups of milk and butter-slathered bread crusts and turned up his nose at nearly everything else, he refused to eat beef. Or pork. Or chicken. Or anything with any protein at all, which caused me to fret that he would forever be just three feet tall and spindly. And one day I made some fish and put some on his plate and then had a small myocardial infarction when he shoveled it all into his mouth and asked for more. Thus a fish-lover was born, and although he is now three-and-a-HALF feet tall and spindly, we consume a lot of fish.
It also gives our family an awesome party trick; ask the kids what they’d like to eat RIGHT NOW if they could have anything at all, and Chickadee will start rattling off “Cake! Ice cream! CAAAAANDY!” while Monkey’s eye glaze over with longing and he sighs, “Saaaaaaaalmon!” read more…
Chances are. . .
… that it’s not going to be a good day when you’re headed out to the dentist and you end up running over a squirrel.
God, I hate squirrels. HATE THEM.
Still, it’s not like I TRIED to run him over. He (she? it?) was darting back and forth ahead of me, and he’d run off mostly to the side, and along I came, and he ran right out under the car and I felt that tell-tale kerTHUMP as he met my rear tire. Whoops.
It was already not a good morning, if you must know, and I’ll confess that my immediate reaction to his demise was “SERVES HIM RIGHT FOR EATING MY DECK!” read more…
More missives from young Shakespeare
Other than some good ol’ boy showing up on my doorstep yesterday to ask if “dat dere truck’s fer sale, I’s seen it jus’ settin’ dere a few times,” it was an extremely ordinary day. (I told my visitor that the truck was not, in fact, for sale. He seemed perplexed, and reiterated that he’s seen it “jus’ settin’ dere” for a while now, and I assured him that we use our little pick-up for special events like trips to Lowe’s and clearing the brush out of the backyard. Then I wondered why I was justifying our truck usage to a stranger, and bid him a good day and closed the door. Chickadee—who had witnessed the entire thing, including him pulling into the driveway in a blue truck—then asked me why that man wants to buy OUR truck when clearly he already HAS a truck.)
So in the absence of any major expenditures with junior geography scouts (it’s possible that Otto and I will now replace “Gorgonzola!” with “Jakarta is a city in Indonesia!” as our favorite interjection), I bring you, instead, more brilliance from my youngest. read more…
Astroturf would’ve been easier
The kids were off with their dad this weekend, so Otto and I immediately set about making fancy romantic plans for ourselves. You know the sort—a run to the hardware store, a few hours spent cleaning up the office, meal-planning for the week and fetching groceries, and a trip to the local flooring place.
What? You don’t express your love for each other through home maintenance? Pfffft.
Actually (and this is probably more about me than you wanted to know) (sorry!) the very idea of tearing up the carpet in our living room really does get me all hot and bothered. (Oooh baby!) There are many, many things I love about this house, but you have to understand that when I first stood in it slightly over a year ago one of the first things out my mouth was “Well, the carpet in here has got to go. OBVIOUSLY.” read more…
I can’t help it, it freaks me out
Tonight I had my first experience with up-close and personal gymnastics stars. Yes! Otto and I had tickets to go watch the NCAA women’s individual finals, and so—despite neither of us being super-huge gymnastics fans—we headed off to cheer for our home team.
It turned out that our seats were actually quite good, and we sat back to enjoy the splendor that can only come with sitting in a packed sports arena, waiting for half-dressed girls to come out and begin flinging themselves all over the place.
(I, of course, pulled out my phone to check my email while we were waiting, and then my LOVING HUSBAND felt the need to pull out his phone, snap a picture of me futzing with mine, and then email that picture to my parents, MOCKING ME FOR EMAILING. Can someone please explain to Pot Otto why that is IRONIC?) read more…
Other material comes along
Sometimes, I sit down to write in the morning and there is a Big Thing on my mind that I really do NOT want to get into, so I try to find something else to natter on about, and then sometimes there is simply nothing shiny available and my children have been neither unusually delightful or horrid and then—very rarely, but it happens—I wander off and realize twelve hours later that, Oh, hey, I never wrote today.
Whoops.
So I could get into a BIG GIGANTIC RANT to finish out the week (Hint: Are 504 Plans optional, and should the school which is ONCE AGAIN in violation open a conversation with me by saying “Well, really, it’s okay!”? Answer: No, and OH HELL NO.) or I could just tell you what ONE THING tickled me today. read more…
Love blooms in its own time
Things have been a tiny bit tense around here lately; I don’t suppose you’ve noticed. To say we’ve all been a little stressed out would not be inaccurate. And while I can’t speak for the kids, obviously, I know that I personally feel a lot more angst when my children are having trouble getting over a hump and I can’t seem to help them.
Both of them are struggling right now with different things. I am left feeling like what I do is never enough and that if only I could find THAT THING that would fix it all, we could all heave a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, THAT THING is completely beyond my grasp; whether because it’s imaginary or because I’m a moron, well… sometimes it’s hard to know. Nevertheless, some days life feels more like a struggle than a journey. And some days I wonder if hoping for change is foolhardy. read more…
The miracle of the oil
Back when I was Jewish—you knew I was raised Jewish, right? Before I broke my family’s collective heart and became a Christian?—I got to go to Hebrew School and hear all about the story behind Hanukkah every year. If you’re not Jewish, you perhaps don’t know that the holiday celebrates the “miracle of the oil,” in that a tiny bit of oil (all that was left, due to the circumstances of the story which aren’t all that important to my point here) ends up lasting and burning brightly for eight whole days, against all odds.
I am here to tell you that the TRUE miracle of the oil is that ANYTHING YOU DEEP FRY IS DELICIOUS. Hanukkah, schmanukkah. It’s not a miracle when oil burns for days. That’s a waste of a good chance to render perfectly healthy food a heart attack waiting to happen. read more…
An equal and opposite reaction
Mom. MOOOOOOOOOM! Did you write a mushy post about me? REALLY? DID YOU? Because 10 is not interested in your mushy-gooshy love. How EMBARRASSING.
Why are you always embarrassing me?? GOD.
Clearly we need to go over the rules again. And just to drive the point home, allow me to follow The Weekend Of All Things For The Child with some pointed behavior to let you know that YOUR EFFORTS ARE NOT APPRECIATED. In fact, the harder you try to do something special for me, the greater my urge to stand in the middle of the kitchen and pee on the floor just to see the look on your face. Not that I would ever actually DO that, because I am FAR TOO OLD AND COOL to do something that gross. Instead I will indulge in the occasional tantrum or twelve because YOU MADE ME. read more…