International Stuck-in-my-Craw Day!
No, really. I may have made it up just now (what, I’m not allowed to do that?), but EMBRACE IT. Today’s the day to bitch and moan about things irritating you, and you get to feel just a little more superior about it because saying that something is STUCK IN YOUR CRAW is very satisfying, and somehow more justified-sounding than THESE PEOPLE ARE PISSING ME OFF.
It’s good for the soul. I swear.
Also, studies show it’s good to shrug off petty annoyances and even major worries, because you’ll stay healthier when you’re not aggravated. But other studies (mine; very scientific they are, too, with data collected over wine and chocolate while not-knitting) show that if you cannot shake these things off, it’s highly therapeutic to VENT LOUDLY. read more…
The best I can do on a grey morning
Yesterday it was over 70 degrees here. Balmy! (Which is not the same as BLAMY, which is what I typed the first time, because I need more coffee.) I found myself fairly skipping through the daffodils (oh, yes—we have daffodils, dozens of them) and weaving ribbons in my hair with the help of cartoon bluebirds. Because THIS, this is what WEATHER SHOULD BE! It was warm and breezy and sunny and gorgeous, and I was totally willing to pretend that it wasn’t happening on the hind end of February when I have friends digging out of the snow up north.
I also opted to conveniently ignore the fact that apparently this will be a very small window of Perfect Weather; soon Pollen Season will be here, and after that, Insufferable Heat Season, which really doesn’t bother me as much as everyone says it should, because I prefer to think of it as Pool And Popsicle Season.
But when I put all of that together with the fact that I regularly have hot flashes, I have to concede that I’m sort of a weirdo. read more…
More like Crawl Day
Well, THAT was an exciting weekend. Sometimes my life is just so darned thrilling, I can barely believe it.
I dunno… the whole Leap Year thing, it feels like we should mark the day, somehow. We’re always saying “I just need a few more hours in the day!” and then we get an entire extra day, and what do we do? Well, I don’t know what YOU do, obviously, but I spend it just like any other day, and then I feel like I’ve wasted my opportunity to catch up. Now I have to wait four more years to blow it the next time. Sheesh.
Actually, we didn’t spend Leap Day COMPLETELY like any other day. One might say we maximized it in that special way that only extreme tedium can. Because Chickadee had belt testing on Friday night! Thereby teaching the ancient Korean art of being bored out of one’s skull! read more…
You can’t have idiom without id
Chickadee was sitting at the breakfast table this morning, trying to finish the homework I’d cruelly sent her to bed before completing, last night. She was to bring in a list of at least twenty idioms and what they mean, and was on number eighteen and struggling to finish.
Monkey was spinning in circles, being a general distraction, and Otto had retreated to the office to get away from it all, I think. I was trying to help, but running out of expressions. Plus, it had taken entirely too long to get her to understand what the “can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear” saying means.
Of course, I was also sort of busy mediating the bickering that was happening.
“Otto!” I called into the other room in exasperation. “Do you have any ideas?”
Sometimes love is a laughing cow
I have a pretty complicated relationship with food, for a non-eating-disordered normal-weight female. I always used to joke that I was a fat girl trapped in a skinny body. Once I became post-menopausal at the ripe old age of 33, I had to stop saying that—my metabolism no longer allows for the wanton consumption it once did. (Alas.) But there’s no denying that I see food as way more than sustenance.
What do you see in this picture?
The bonds of many words
Hey, I have a friend who is having a birthday today. She is turning… awesome! Stupendous! Magnificent! And—most importantly—OLDER THAN ME. So I will nod sympathetically and pat her hair (or at least try to, from afar) all the while hoping that she will be nice to me when I reach… the birthday she’s at now.
Maybe you know my friend? Joshilyn Jackson? Seems like perhaps some of you know her. And perhaps you know that her new book just came out. Why, I’m stalking my UPS guy daily, waiting for my copy. Although, who am I kidding? I will end up going to the bookstore and buying a copy because delivery is taking too long, just like I did with her other books. And then one of my OTHER friends will get the other copy for one of THEIR birthdays.
It’s good to have friends who write books you can’t wait to read. I’m not entirely sure what Joss gets out of her side of this relationship, but damn if I haven’t already gotten some awesome reading material. read more…
A choose your own tragedy adventure
Remember those “choose your own adventure” books? I remember how excited I was when they first came out. And then I realized that no matter what I did, I always picked wrong.
You’ve come to a fork in the path! Do you go left or right?
*I choose left and turn to the page directed*
Too bad! You walk three more feet down the path and fall into a trap, breaking every bone in your body, and are then eaten by a pack of hungry goblins. Sorry!
Story of my life, man. STORY OF MY LIFE. (Somewhere in the back, Otto is now going, “HEY!” Okay, I don’t ALWAYS pick wrong. But let’s just say I manage the most circuitous path to the right choice, then.)
And yesterday… well, yesterday was NO DIFFERENT. read more…
I caved, and I got what I deserved
Do you remember a while back when I decided that I wasn’t going to let my children have any sleepovers until they were, I dunno, TWENTY? Actually, I think I’ve decided this MULTIPLE times, on account of sleepovers are a tool of the devil. Children are lured in by promises of extra-big fun—surely far huger than a normal playdate, because there’s a decent chance of a sleepover involving bacon—and then something tragic inevitably happens.
You doubt? Allow me to remind you of Exhibit A. Sure, that was years ago, but the point is that SLEEPOVERS ARE A TOOL OF THE DEVIL. I know I said that already, but it’s totally true. And I’ve been pretty good at avoiding them, so far, but then my daughter went and befriended a kid who lives about an hour away.
And suddenly a sleepover sounded less like “tool of the devil” and more like “much-desired playdate for the children and an evening out for us grown-ups.” read more…
Just now
Me: I’m taking out a loaf of beer-cheese bread to bring up with us later.
Otto: Wow!
Me: What?
Otto: That’s awfully generous of you!
Me: Um. It’s BREAD.
Otto: No, it’s BEER-CHEESE BREAD.
Me: Yes. Well. I thought I should bring them something.
Otto: But it’s BEER-CHEESE BREAD.
Me: I WILL MAKE SOME MORE FOR YOU. SHEESH. They’ve had our children for an entire day and night!
Otto: You’re sucking up so that they’ll take the kids again.
Me: Yes.
Yes and no
Yes: Monkey was a gem at the dentist yesterday, and charmed the pants off of the entire staff. (Note: That’s hyperbole. I’m pretty sure everyone was still wearing pants when we left.)
No: Apparently our craptastic dental insurance will consider itself maxed out for the year as soon as we submit the orthodontist bill, which means we get to pay for all cleanings and anything else for the rest of the year. And by the way, the dentist recommends cleanings FOUR TIMES A YEAR for children with orthodontic devices.
Yes: It’s not snowing.
No: It’s 35 degrees out and pouring.
Yes: Chickadee wisely decided to get out her rain boots.
No: Flipper Foot strikes again; her worn-twice boots (purchased big! right before we moved!) are too small. Does anyone in town carry rain boots in her size? No. Go ahead, ASK ME HOW I KNOW THIS. read more…