Random answers and further embarrassment
I’m so glad that y’all seemed to enjoy the last post as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sometimes I’m not sure if things are just amusing in my head or actually amusing in general, and the confirmation that yes, my Native American name should’ve been Dances With Morons warms the cockles of my twisted little heart.
Of course, it seems I’ve left you with a few burning questions, and that just won’t do. Let me see if I can address some of your queries.
Many of you wanted to know if 1) Otto and his friend still saw the film and 2) how it was. I subjected my husband to a hard-hitting interview to get the scoop for you. And this is particularly notable because Otto is out of town at a conference, and he called home to check in and I was all “Let’s talk about that 3D porno.” Lucky Otto! read more…
I have your sadness antidote right here
Let’s do a quick review of recent world events, shall we?
1) Norway. God. What did the people of Oslo ever do to anyone? Why are there still so many people out there who think The Answer lies in blowing people up and shooting them? I don’t understand.
2) Amy Winehouse. Hey, it turns out that addiction kills even people who are really, really talented. How about that. Would it be wrong to tell my kids that if they ever even try drugs I will break their legs? Because I’m okay with that if it’s not going to get DFACS over here.
3) School. As in: starts in two weeks. As in: we haven’t the faintest clue what the plan is for Monkey right now. I’ve spent two solid days making phone calls, sending emails, researching, talking to people. I’m lost. I’m tired.
I’ve been saving the following for a suck-ass day like this one. It’s time. read more…
Stumble; fly; keep going
I know I keep saying it, but I really cannot fully express how much I’ve loved this summer. This is our fourth summer in Georgia and the first one that’s felt like everyone is okay and life is good. The stress level has been relatively low and the kids are happy and mostly healthy. Basically I never want this summer to end, ever.
But it’s going to end in a couple of weeks, and we’re starting to brace for impact.
It’s funny; I had a post planned, yesterday morning. It wasn’t anything earth-shattering, but it was going to be about how good summer has been for everyone, but most especially for the kids. Just the day before, I’d taken Monkey to meet up with a new friend for ice cream, and we’d ended up waiting for them for over half an hour (unavoidable problem, and they didn’t have my cell number to let me know) and I had finally, gently, told him maybe they weren’t coming, and let’s get some ice cream anyway, and then they showed up and everything was okay, and he didn’t bellow “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” or anything awful, and I thought to myself: Man, this summer has been great for him. He’s really growing. He’s getting there.
But I was wrong. read more…
What are you afraid of?
There are plenty of phobias I don’t quite understand. Monkey, for example, is absolutely TERRIFIED of bees and wasps, which I gather is a not-uncommon thing amongst Aspies, but is nonetheless kind of annoying and disruptive when something comes along buzzing and he completely freaks out. Me, I’m actually allergic to wasps, and I’m not nearly as fearful as he is.
Chickadee’s needle phobia? I don’t get that, either. Needles don’t faze me. I gave myself shots every day when I was pregnant, and other than looking a little like a pincushion, it didn’t bother me.
But the truth is that I used to be fearless, and then my life filled up with wonderful things, and rather than making me feel calm and blessed, it has made me fearful. Because what if…? The things that should make me feel most secure and happy are now, oftentimes, the reasons I lay awake at night, worrying I might lose them.
Today I’m over at Off Our Chests, talking about this fear pendulum. I think we all have one. I’m coming to realize that mine needs some adjusting.
Pasta, anyone?
I do believe this summer will go down in family history as the Summer of the Tomatoes. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; I do love me some tomatoes. But thanks to my husband’s plant selection and what must be a particularly optimal growing season (can you believe I haven’t seen a single tomato horn worm this year?) (knocking on wood; crossing myself; throwing salt over my shoulder; spitting twice), my tomato cup runneth over.
And so the course of my days has changed.
The weird thing is, I really kind of like it.
I used to get up, have coffee while dealing with email, and get right to work. I would work all day (minus fifteen interruptions from Monkey wanting to know what I was doing now, and did I want to play Wii with him instead, and was it time to go swimming yet?) (answers: still working, yes but no thank you, and just a few more minutes) and try to knock off early to swim with the kids and otherwise actually be present with my family, and then eventually it would be evening and then bedtime. read more…
The perks of hippie-town living
Last night we went out for frozen yogurt after dinner, and after enjoying our treat we exited the shop only to discover a couple sitting at a table out front enjoying their dessert… with a large macaw.
The bird had his own seat. He was munching on a raspberry, and a small crowd had amassed to admire him.
When the raspberry was dropped, the woman of the couple handed over a piece of kiwi from her cup. The bird happily munched on that, as the man began to detail all of the foods the bird really enjoys. He listed several fruits, corn, and then said “But his favorite is roast chicken.”
“That’s just not right,” I blurted out. Oh no, he assured me, he LOVES it! “But that’s cannibalism,” I protested, somewhat weakly. Who am I to dictate what these people feed their bird?
Also: There’s a macaw enjoying dessert at a little table outside the yogurt shop, and the thing that’s weird is that he eats chicken? … right.
You always hurt the ones you love
As I so often do, after a more difficult topic, today I’m going to go “LALALA!” very loudly with my fingers in my ears, and turn to lighter matters.
Lighter matters like trying to drown my dog.
The thing is, she can swim. We KNOW she can swim. And once we converted the pool to salt water we thought AWESOME, NOW THE DOG WILL SWIM because we were sure her previous aversion to the pool was because of the chlorine. I mean, after all, she loves the beach, so maybe with the chemicals out of the way, we could teach her to love the pool. Especially now that we have a decent fence and she can just run around in the pool area.
Hahahaha. My optimism is hilarious!
Actually, I am totally going to blame this on you guys. Yeah, that’s it. read more…
The final (?) chapter of the rash saga
There’s good news and there’s bad news, when it comes to the latest on my darling daughter’s skin. The good news is that we didn’t have to see Dr. BadHair again; this week we saw the head of the department, who asked us a year ago how far we were willing to go to cure her, and this time finally told us what that meant.
The bad news is that Chickadee has thus far decided that actually, no, she’s not willing to go very far at all, thanks, she will just be rashy, that’s perfectly fine, actually.
But I guess I’m getting ahead of myself, a bit.
The truth is that Chickadee’s skin issues have gotten worse and worse over the years, to the point where I don’t think she even realizes how modified her life is at this point. There’s a level on which this is positive—better than her sitting around feeling sorry for herself, right? But things are… not normal. And that’s not okay. read more…
Dressed for success?
I think we all have a few of those childhood memories that are indelibly burned into our brains; moments when we felt like we would never fit in or be “right.” I watch my kids trying to navigate tricky social waters and desperately want to tell them that they won’t remember these heartaches in a few years, but it’s not true. Some of it fades, but some of it stays with you forever. I guess it builds character.
Once upon a time, I thought clothes were fun. Today’s post at Off Our Chests is one of those memories I’ll never shake, for better or for worse.
Come on over; no matter what you wear, I bet you’ll be able to relate.
I like food. The end.
I feel like my entire weekend was spent preparing or consuming food. And that’s okay—lord knows that I am a big fan of eating, and I’m willing to invest some time so as to make that experience happen—but it helped me to understand that I would’ve survived about a week as a pioneer before being all “Screw this, where’s McDonald’s?”
As you already know, my garden is producing tomatoes large enough to take over Atlanta, and a reasonable person would merely concentrate on those, as there’s certainly enough of them to keep me busy. BUT NO. I am not reasonable. If some is good, MORE IS BETTER, and so with five pounds (so far!) of ripe tomatoes pondering the takeover of my kitchen, I demanded that Otto take me to the Farmer’s Market on Saturday.
We went early, before the kids were up. Without any “this is boring”s and “he’s touching me!”s to distract me, I may have gone a little overboard. read more…