This made Marc and I laugh out loud.
Syd: Daddy, what are those hooks for, on the ceiling?
Marc: For hanging plants. Like baskets of flowers and things.
Syd: Oh. (Long pause) I thought Captain Hook lived here.
Gotta love the 5 year old mind.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
you know you've entered the digital age when...
You text GoogleText for the nearest Costco store, and then use your GPS system to find it.
God bless Garmin.
God bless Garmin.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
sleepless but not in seattle
it's way way waaaaaayyyyy past my bedtime and i've crossed the realm of tired to exhausted to too revved up to sleep. so much to do, think about, see... sigh. facebook flashes long-forgotten faces in front of me, and i begin to wonder--what happened to chris lucas who moved into the district in 7th grade and was in my science class? where are all the really smart people working? what are they doing? what about the ones who were off-kilter and not concerned about it? are they still off-kilter and still not caring? are the fat ones skinny and the skinny ones fat? who is married? divorced? what happened to my crushes from high school? college? the hot guy from the pool that one summer?
and what about my camp counselors? teachers? older friends of friends? younger siblings of people long ago forgotten or off the radar? did chris become a writer? a teacher? an engineer? is josh still out west smoking pot and driving a delivery truck (as was rumored at our 10 year hs reunion)? is julie in politics? what did maude decided to do with her life? what about weighlifter matt? and footballer matt? and techie rebecca who was "bests" with gina? what are they doing? did vanessa make it big time on the stage or screen like jon? did dan ever stop looking like dudley do-right? who moved to chicago? new york? l.a.? minnesota? are they happy there?
and do they ever wonder about me... what i've become, who i've become, what i do to fill my days? or does my face never cross their minds, forgotten in the abyss of memory that for some reason grows sharper still every day in my own person.
the memory of frozen turkey slices, aluminum covered burger king crowns, musty acorn books, white pillars and green letters... all sharper in focus than they were yesterday.
does wendy still make puppy chow and keep it on top of her fridge? what did julie do with her peace studies major? did elena ever move back to the states? is jennifer happy with lily and natalie?
still tired, still awake. still remembering....
and what about my camp counselors? teachers? older friends of friends? younger siblings of people long ago forgotten or off the radar? did chris become a writer? a teacher? an engineer? is josh still out west smoking pot and driving a delivery truck (as was rumored at our 10 year hs reunion)? is julie in politics? what did maude decided to do with her life? what about weighlifter matt? and footballer matt? and techie rebecca who was "bests" with gina? what are they doing? did vanessa make it big time on the stage or screen like jon? did dan ever stop looking like dudley do-right? who moved to chicago? new york? l.a.? minnesota? are they happy there?
and do they ever wonder about me... what i've become, who i've become, what i do to fill my days? or does my face never cross their minds, forgotten in the abyss of memory that for some reason grows sharper still every day in my own person.
the memory of frozen turkey slices, aluminum covered burger king crowns, musty acorn books, white pillars and green letters... all sharper in focus than they were yesterday.
does wendy still make puppy chow and keep it on top of her fridge? what did julie do with her peace studies major? did elena ever move back to the states? is jennifer happy with lily and natalie?
still tired, still awake. still remembering....
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Gratifying
Sadly, seeing this article "in print" on the web is gratifying for me. Don't know why. And ironically, we are setting off on a road trip tomorrow morning. Guess I should take my own advice, eh?
Sucks that it isn't signed, but "them's the joys of freelancing."
Sucks that it isn't signed, but "them's the joys of freelancing."
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
A Web Site for Avid Readers
I found this today and immediately signed up. It sounds almost too good to be true, but if it works, I'm way excited!
Why Starbucks Costs So Much
I'm sure fair trade has something to do with it. But consider:
When I went to Starbucks today to get a tall skim chai (no foam)--Yes, Lucy, we were of one mind today, apparently--there was a trainee barista working on the chai. She asked her trainer how much milk to pour in to steam for the drink, and was told "a little more than that, since she doesn't want foam."
Chai made, the trainee asked her trainer what to do with the extra milk in the silver container used for steaming milk. Her trainer said "throw it out."
My eyebrows shot up. Milk in the grocery store is now $4/gallon for non-organic in our neck of the woods ($6/gallon organic if it is on sale), and I've heard nothing but bad news about food prices due to shortages world-wide. I'm not sure if milk is included in those shortages, but there has been lots of talk about the price of milk, eggs and of course, rice, going up.
"Throw it away?" I asked in horror.
The trainer looked at me, somewhat apologetically. "Yes," she said. "We can only use milk for one drink. So we have to throw it away."
I was beside myself, but it dawned on me as I floundered, dumbstruck, trying to find the car, that this might be the reason Starbucks is so unbelievably expensive, especially with their non-drip coffee drinks. I hesitate to think how much milk they are throwing away.
Does anyone out there in the blogosphere know why they have to throw perfectly good milk away? I know that in other coffee establishments, like Barnes and Noble (which "proudly serves" Starbucks coffee, but is not a Starbucks franchise), the milk is saved for a period of time, and more is added to the carafe as needed for the next drink.
I wonder if there is a way to stop this wastefulness--especially with the cost of milk on the rise. I know that my boycotting the institution won't make the slightest dent in their bottom line--I only go there once a week at most, and it's usually just for chai, as I think their coffee is bitter. I am much happier with the local institution Boston Stoker, and once we move, I will try to find a local coffeeshop (when I can't/don't have time to brew at home) to patronize.
But I just had to share how shocked and surprised I was by this practice, by a corporation I have long-admired for their practice of extending healthcare to employees without them having to work 40 hours a week.
When I went to Starbucks today to get a tall skim chai (no foam)--Yes, Lucy, we were of one mind today, apparently--there was a trainee barista working on the chai. She asked her trainer how much milk to pour in to steam for the drink, and was told "a little more than that, since she doesn't want foam."
Chai made, the trainee asked her trainer what to do with the extra milk in the silver container used for steaming milk. Her trainer said "throw it out."
My eyebrows shot up. Milk in the grocery store is now $4/gallon for non-organic in our neck of the woods ($6/gallon organic if it is on sale), and I've heard nothing but bad news about food prices due to shortages world-wide. I'm not sure if milk is included in those shortages, but there has been lots of talk about the price of milk, eggs and of course, rice, going up.
"Throw it away?" I asked in horror.
The trainer looked at me, somewhat apologetically. "Yes," she said. "We can only use milk for one drink. So we have to throw it away."
I was beside myself, but it dawned on me as I floundered, dumbstruck, trying to find the car, that this might be the reason Starbucks is so unbelievably expensive, especially with their non-drip coffee drinks. I hesitate to think how much milk they are throwing away.
Does anyone out there in the blogosphere know why they have to throw perfectly good milk away? I know that in other coffee establishments, like Barnes and Noble (which "proudly serves" Starbucks coffee, but is not a Starbucks franchise), the milk is saved for a period of time, and more is added to the carafe as needed for the next drink.
I wonder if there is a way to stop this wastefulness--especially with the cost of milk on the rise. I know that my boycotting the institution won't make the slightest dent in their bottom line--I only go there once a week at most, and it's usually just for chai, as I think their coffee is bitter. I am much happier with the local institution Boston Stoker, and once we move, I will try to find a local coffeeshop (when I can't/don't have time to brew at home) to patronize.
But I just had to share how shocked and surprised I was by this practice, by a corporation I have long-admired for their practice of extending healthcare to employees without them having to work 40 hours a week.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Nothing nefarious after all
The black pick up belonged to a neighbor, who was very apologetic and moved it yesterday afternoon. So we now have a free and clear view of the house and the sign.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
hello little blog
I've been absent, I know. Please forgive me. It has been a rocky road the last few weeks (months)--not in a bad way, just in a busy way. The kiddos are happily watching Cars for what seems like the millionth time, so I thought I'd take a minute (or four) and update on various parts of the craziness that is my life at the moment. And I'll do it in a list, since everything I do seems to be in lists now (Cue music from Ragtime, "You left me lists, everything in lists, but your little lists aren't very helpful, I fear").
1. We are moving. Again. MOVING. As in, 13,000 lbs. of stuff on a huge truck driven out of state. It is sudden, exciting, crazy, stressful.... The last move (less than two years ago, ahem) was more or less local. This one is to northern Virgina, which I am quickly learning is abbreviated NOVA by locals--a suburb of Washington DC (but again, DC or "the District" by locals). New job for DH, hopefully a full-time job for me, new schools for the munchkins, and some sort of new abode for us. I don't yet have a forwarding address but hopefully I will after Memorial Day, when we all pile in the minivan for a short eight hour hop over to NOVA to search out a suitable dwelling place that won't break the bank. Good luck.
We have lots o crap to get rid of before we head out, so if anyone out there in blogland is interested in two full-size arcade games (Track & Field, Circus Charlie), a full-size pinball machine (1976), a full-size slot machine (Japanese), a recumbant exercise bike, or other assorted furniture, please let me know. They are all for sale, and we can hopefully make enough to buy a new flat screen TV for our NOVA pad.
2. My step-grandfather died yesterday. He was 89, sick, had pneumonia, hospice, etc, but it is still sad. He is hopefully at peace now, but I feel for the wife of 50+ years he left behind, and the extended family who have memories of him in a better time. His death is of course making me think about the others I have lost (mom, grandpa, nona, david, leslie) and making it harder to swallow those feelings back down.
3. DH is in Miami at a conference. Single parenting sucks, but fortunately I have great friends who are allowing me to lean heavily on them and go in for some "group parenting" with their children.
4. Sleep. Or lack thereof. We sent DS's pacifiers to the "babies who don't have binkies" last Saturday, via US Mail (thanks to the kind lady at the window who didn't bat an eyelash at our request and took the unmarked envelope full of eight used pacifiers and actually smiled and told my son what a "big boy" he was), and allegedly, via train after that (because all things train-related are comforting when you've said goodbye to the binky). This has resulted in a week of little to no consistent sleep. I thought he was doing better--he slept 13 hours without waking on Friday night, but last night he returned to his former ways and was up at 2, 4, 4:30 and 6:15. Ack. At least we don't have to show the house today, so I can take it slow and easy.
5. The black pick-up truck. It has been parked in front of our house since Thursday, with, apparently, no intention of moving. I wrote down the license plate, but I am unwilling to fork over $30-79 (depending on the site) to determine the ID of its owner. I am planning on knocking on neighbors' doors when the hour becomes a little more sociable (and perhaps after church time--we are a very church-y neighborhood, well, town, it would seem) but my brain was telling me at 4 this morning that the extended cab pick-up is there to hide our "for sale" sign from passers-by. This seems nefarious, I know, but as there are an insane number of houses for sale in our neighborhood (and lately, on our street), I think people will use any tactics to take out the competition. If I can't ID the owner, I will be calling the cops. I want the thing gone by the time open houses are in swing this afternoon (2 p.m.) so that potential buyers can actually see that our house is for sale. Yes, I am slightly freaking out about this. It's the coffee.
6. I miss Miss Doxie. Where oh where has your little blog gone?
Everything else in life is on track. I am writing, both for profit and not, which is why I haven't been blogging much. Kids are good, other than the binky thing. I am making time for yoga and cardio occasionally, filling in with DDR when I can't get to the gym or outside to walk/run. I am trying to eat right and sleep enough, and I'm using my pedometer like a mad woman. Packing is, for the most part, under control. Grey's Anatomy is back on TV, which gives me a welcome respite on Thursday nights. I'm almost done knitting the second sock of the pair I started a while back, I've done one baby sweater for a friend who is due in the next few weeks, and I'm almost halfway done with a second one for another friend who is also due in the next few weeks. I'm regularly checking MLS and Craig's List for affordable rentals in our target area, and Monster for possible jobs opps. I need to revise my resume. And sleep. Sleep would be good. And fewer baked goods would probably make my fitness goals easier to achieve. But.
Incidentally, on a final note, there was an NPR call-in show on Friday afternoon about words and linguistics. It had something to do with the campaigning and primary season, etc, and I didn't get a chance to listen because I was in the dr's office for an hour (routine check up--all is well), but they were asking for listeners' thoughts about words, language and phrases and how well people are using them these days. This actually interests me (sadly?), since I am a closet linguist, and since I couldn't call in, I thought I'd post my comment here.
I AM SO TIRED OF "IT IS WHAT IT IS." I wish people would stop using this phrase. Seriously. (That's another one that's getting old, but I use it, so it would be hypocritical to complain about it.) The Buddhist thought that spawned this evil offspring has been so far corrupted. I would go as far as to say "It is what it is" is what is wrong with our country (mounting soapbox)... People use it to remove themselves from the responsibility of caring for what is going on around them and for actually doing something about it. Yes, it's true that there are some things we are powerless to control (thank you, Aristotlean Primary Unmoved Mover and company), but dismissing children's behavior, general lack of social or customer service skills, sad news, twists of fate and other things that occur in life as "it is what it is" is a cop out. I am working on what I will say to someone the next time I hear this (be forewarned). So far I have come up with:
It is what it is not.
Why must it be so.
(Yoda voice) You think. So it is not.
Other suggestions?
(stepping off soap box now--incidentally, when is the last time anyone actually saw a soap box used for public fora? wasn't the last one used for firewood back in 18-- when William Jennings Bryan went off on his last opponent?)
(tossing camera in air, a la Austin Powers)
I'm spent.
1. We are moving. Again. MOVING. As in, 13,000 lbs. of stuff on a huge truck driven out of state. It is sudden, exciting, crazy, stressful.... The last move (less than two years ago, ahem) was more or less local. This one is to northern Virgina, which I am quickly learning is abbreviated NOVA by locals--a suburb of Washington DC (but again, DC or "the District" by locals). New job for DH, hopefully a full-time job for me, new schools for the munchkins, and some sort of new abode for us. I don't yet have a forwarding address but hopefully I will after Memorial Day, when we all pile in the minivan for a short eight hour hop over to NOVA to search out a suitable dwelling place that won't break the bank. Good luck.
We have lots o crap to get rid of before we head out, so if anyone out there in blogland is interested in two full-size arcade games (Track & Field, Circus Charlie), a full-size pinball machine (1976), a full-size slot machine (Japanese), a recumbant exercise bike, or other assorted furniture, please let me know. They are all for sale, and we can hopefully make enough to buy a new flat screen TV for our NOVA pad.
2. My step-grandfather died yesterday. He was 89, sick, had pneumonia, hospice, etc, but it is still sad. He is hopefully at peace now, but I feel for the wife of 50+ years he left behind, and the extended family who have memories of him in a better time. His death is of course making me think about the others I have lost (mom, grandpa, nona, david, leslie) and making it harder to swallow those feelings back down.
3. DH is in Miami at a conference. Single parenting sucks, but fortunately I have great friends who are allowing me to lean heavily on them and go in for some "group parenting" with their children.
4. Sleep. Or lack thereof. We sent DS's pacifiers to the "babies who don't have binkies" last Saturday, via US Mail (thanks to the kind lady at the window who didn't bat an eyelash at our request and took the unmarked envelope full of eight used pacifiers and actually smiled and told my son what a "big boy" he was), and allegedly, via train after that (because all things train-related are comforting when you've said goodbye to the binky). This has resulted in a week of little to no consistent sleep. I thought he was doing better--he slept 13 hours without waking on Friday night, but last night he returned to his former ways and was up at 2, 4, 4:30 and 6:15. Ack. At least we don't have to show the house today, so I can take it slow and easy.
5. The black pick-up truck. It has been parked in front of our house since Thursday, with, apparently, no intention of moving. I wrote down the license plate, but I am unwilling to fork over $30-79 (depending on the site) to determine the ID of its owner. I am planning on knocking on neighbors' doors when the hour becomes a little more sociable (and perhaps after church time--we are a very church-y neighborhood, well, town, it would seem) but my brain was telling me at 4 this morning that the extended cab pick-up is there to hide our "for sale" sign from passers-by. This seems nefarious, I know, but as there are an insane number of houses for sale in our neighborhood (and lately, on our street), I think people will use any tactics to take out the competition. If I can't ID the owner, I will be calling the cops. I want the thing gone by the time open houses are in swing this afternoon (2 p.m.) so that potential buyers can actually see that our house is for sale. Yes, I am slightly freaking out about this. It's the coffee.
6. I miss Miss Doxie. Where oh where has your little blog gone?
Everything else in life is on track. I am writing, both for profit and not, which is why I haven't been blogging much. Kids are good, other than the binky thing. I am making time for yoga and cardio occasionally, filling in with DDR when I can't get to the gym or outside to walk/run. I am trying to eat right and sleep enough, and I'm using my pedometer like a mad woman. Packing is, for the most part, under control. Grey's Anatomy is back on TV, which gives me a welcome respite on Thursday nights. I'm almost done knitting the second sock of the pair I started a while back, I've done one baby sweater for a friend who is due in the next few weeks, and I'm almost halfway done with a second one for another friend who is also due in the next few weeks. I'm regularly checking MLS and Craig's List for affordable rentals in our target area, and Monster for possible jobs opps. I need to revise my resume. And sleep. Sleep would be good. And fewer baked goods would probably make my fitness goals easier to achieve. But.
Incidentally, on a final note, there was an NPR call-in show on Friday afternoon about words and linguistics. It had something to do with the campaigning and primary season, etc, and I didn't get a chance to listen because I was in the dr's office for an hour (routine check up--all is well), but they were asking for listeners' thoughts about words, language and phrases and how well people are using them these days. This actually interests me (sadly?), since I am a closet linguist, and since I couldn't call in, I thought I'd post my comment here.
I AM SO TIRED OF "IT IS WHAT IT IS." I wish people would stop using this phrase. Seriously. (That's another one that's getting old, but I use it, so it would be hypocritical to complain about it.) The Buddhist thought that spawned this evil offspring has been so far corrupted. I would go as far as to say "It is what it is" is what is wrong with our country (mounting soapbox)... People use it to remove themselves from the responsibility of caring for what is going on around them and for actually doing something about it. Yes, it's true that there are some things we are powerless to control (thank you, Aristotlean Primary Unmoved Mover and company), but dismissing children's behavior, general lack of social or customer service skills, sad news, twists of fate and other things that occur in life as "it is what it is" is a cop out. I am working on what I will say to someone the next time I hear this (be forewarned). So far I have come up with:
It is what it is not.
Why must it be so.
(Yoda voice) You think. So it is not.
Other suggestions?
(stepping off soap box now--incidentally, when is the last time anyone actually saw a soap box used for public fora? wasn't the last one used for firewood back in 18-- when William Jennings Bryan went off on his last opponent?)
(tossing camera in air, a la Austin Powers)
I'm spent.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
blog tag
Tagged by Caryn. Sadly, this will probably be the most interesting part of my day.
Two names I go by:
1) Allyson
2) Al
Two things I am wearing right now:
1) Socks
2) Pedometer
Two of my favorite things to do:
1) Sleep
2) Write (I'm so boring!)
Two things I want very badly at the moment:
1) For my house to sell at a good price
2) A big hot fudge sundae with no consequences on the scale
Two favorite pets I've had:
1) None
2) None--i'm not an animal person
Two things I did last night:
1) Made spaghetti bolognaise that went UNEATEN
2) Worked on a sweater I'm knitting for Shoshi's impending arrival
Two things I ate today:
1) Fiber One with milk
2) Banana
Two people I last talked to:
1) Marc
2) Sam
Two longest car rides:
1) Cincinnati to Ft. Myers FL (ugh)
2) Cincinnati to Columbia, MO
Two favorite beverages:
1) Venti Caramel Frappaccino (again, with no scale consequences)
2) Alice White Lexia
I tag (if you haven't been tagged already): sidewalker eater, legion, these darn writing shoes, lucy
Two names I go by:
1) Allyson
2) Al
Two things I am wearing right now:
1) Socks
2) Pedometer
Two of my favorite things to do:
1) Sleep
2) Write (I'm so boring!)
Two things I want very badly at the moment:
1) For my house to sell at a good price
2) A big hot fudge sundae with no consequences on the scale
Two favorite pets I've had:
1) None
2) None--i'm not an animal person
Two things I did last night:
1) Made spaghetti bolognaise that went UNEATEN
2) Worked on a sweater I'm knitting for Shoshi's impending arrival
Two things I ate today:
1) Fiber One with milk
2) Banana
Two people I last talked to:
1) Marc
2) Sam
Two longest car rides:
1) Cincinnati to Ft. Myers FL (ugh)
2) Cincinnati to Columbia, MO
Two favorite beverages:
1) Venti Caramel Frappaccino (again, with no scale consequences)
2) Alice White Lexia
I tag (if you haven't been tagged already): sidewalker eater, legion, these darn writing shoes, lucy
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Sam-ism....
The kiddos had a "Passover Experience" at school today and came home with "plague bags," which had plastic bugs, stretchy frogs, sunglasses and rubber-like large stones/pebbles that are to represent hail.
Which led my two year old son to ask "What the hail?"
Which led my two year old son to ask "What the hail?"
Monday, March 03, 2008
The Mother's Decathlon
The Mother’s Decathlon
Event #1: Five Plate Dinner Dash: Prepare five different meals for five picky eaters, in less than thirty minutes.
Event #2: Creative Cookoff: Create as many meals as possible from one bowl of pasta, using ordinary ingredients. Bonus points for including a green vegetable. Triple bonus points if children actually eat the food presented.
Event #3: The Hurky-Jerky: Simultaneously haul two children from minivan to sidewalk and back again, without letting their feet touch the ground. Repeat for the number of errands in any given morning.
Event #4: Supermarket Sprint: Select and purchase one week’s worth of healthful groceries with two children in tow, before naptime, without giving into the “cookie chant.”
Event #5: Shower Skill: Shampoo and condition hair, exfoliate body, cleanse face, and shave legs in between commercial breaks on the Disney Channel or Nickelodeon (or between baby’s cries, if child is under the age of one).
Event #6: Morning Sprint: Clothe children in clean articles suitable to be worn outside the home (e.g. no pajamas), provide breakfast, pack lunches, eat something yourself, and kiss husband, in less than 30 minutes.
Event #7: Bath Balance: Bathe children and shampoo hair while avoiding tantrums for getting water in eyes and fights over squirty bath toys. Bonus points for staying somewhat dry and for getting older children out of the tub before the water temperature dips below 70 degrees.
Event #8: Seatbelt Samba: Strap children into carseats before they successfully remove cotas, hats or mittens. If any article of clothing is removed, you must begin again.
Event #9: Music Mayhem: Maintain sanity during two hour car trip with children listening to one CD (their choice) the entire time.
Event #10: Motherhood Marathon: Complete events 1-9 every day for ten (or so) years.
Awj
3 march 08
Event #1: Five Plate Dinner Dash: Prepare five different meals for five picky eaters, in less than thirty minutes.
Event #2: Creative Cookoff: Create as many meals as possible from one bowl of pasta, using ordinary ingredients. Bonus points for including a green vegetable. Triple bonus points if children actually eat the food presented.
Event #3: The Hurky-Jerky: Simultaneously haul two children from minivan to sidewalk and back again, without letting their feet touch the ground. Repeat for the number of errands in any given morning.
Event #4: Supermarket Sprint: Select and purchase one week’s worth of healthful groceries with two children in tow, before naptime, without giving into the “cookie chant.”
Event #5: Shower Skill: Shampoo and condition hair, exfoliate body, cleanse face, and shave legs in between commercial breaks on the Disney Channel or Nickelodeon (or between baby’s cries, if child is under the age of one).
Event #6: Morning Sprint: Clothe children in clean articles suitable to be worn outside the home (e.g. no pajamas), provide breakfast, pack lunches, eat something yourself, and kiss husband, in less than 30 minutes.
Event #7: Bath Balance: Bathe children and shampoo hair while avoiding tantrums for getting water in eyes and fights over squirty bath toys. Bonus points for staying somewhat dry and for getting older children out of the tub before the water temperature dips below 70 degrees.
Event #8: Seatbelt Samba: Strap children into carseats before they successfully remove cotas, hats or mittens. If any article of clothing is removed, you must begin again.
Event #9: Music Mayhem: Maintain sanity during two hour car trip with children listening to one CD (their choice) the entire time.
Event #10: Motherhood Marathon: Complete events 1-9 every day for ten (or so) years.
Awj
3 march 08
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I can't wait for Monday
I know that's an odd title, but the last five days have held (in no particular order):
1. Two sick kids who were home from school Wednesday-Friday
2. A trip to the ER
3. Lots of ice and snow (conveniently coming at the same time as the trip to the ER)
4. A kidney stone
5. A trip to the pediatrician, resulting in antibiotics for 1/2 of the family
6. A trip to the Newport Aquarium
7. More TV than I need to ever see again (Amnesia, anyone?)
8. Copious amounts of carbohydrates
9. No cardio or weight training
10. A visit from the plumber to replace a water heater
On the (happy) flip side, tomorrow I can look forward to:
1. Writing time
2. Gym time
3. A voice lesson!!!! (maybe)
4. Writing class
5. Menu planning (to put an end to #8 on above list)
6. A nap
7. A quiet house
8. Scouring my kitchen
9. Washing sheets in hot water
10. A nap (so important, it had to be on there twice)
Ah well. Back to kid TV, supervising color projects, and doing laundry.
1. Two sick kids who were home from school Wednesday-Friday
2. A trip to the ER
3. Lots of ice and snow (conveniently coming at the same time as the trip to the ER)
4. A kidney stone
5. A trip to the pediatrician, resulting in antibiotics for 1/2 of the family
6. A trip to the Newport Aquarium
7. More TV than I need to ever see again (Amnesia, anyone?)
8. Copious amounts of carbohydrates
9. No cardio or weight training
10. A visit from the plumber to replace a water heater
On the (happy) flip side, tomorrow I can look forward to:
1. Writing time
2. Gym time
3. A voice lesson!!!! (maybe)
4. Writing class
5. Menu planning (to put an end to #8 on above list)
6. A nap
7. A quiet house
8. Scouring my kitchen
9. Washing sheets in hot water
10. A nap (so important, it had to be on there twice)
Ah well. Back to kid TV, supervising color projects, and doing laundry.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
it's no out there
It's cold. I have coffee. The kids have a snow day because, as my son so astutely observed, "it's no out there." He apparently indiscriminantly doesn't have an "s" at the beginning of his words, which is unfortunate, since his name is Sam.
He also is having issues with "r" in the middle of words, which means that Percy, one of his favorite trains on the island of Sodor, becomes "Pussy." Which is hysterically funny that a two year old is running around saying "I like Pussy, Mommy." To which his grandfather replied, "well, at least he's starting early." Well, there's an image I didn't need. But given the indiscriminate "s" dropping, "Pussy" actually sounds more like "Puthy." Really, it's amazing we understand the little guy at all.
My house is sticky. Every single surface I touch seems to pull back. I'm not a dirty person. I might be a slightly messy person (in that I can't control the clutter that is EMANATING from every room and closet in my abode), but I've never stood for being a dirty person. But I moved the coffee maker this morning and... ewww. Grey stuff that didn't easily wipe up, even with Lysol and repeated scrubbing. I handed my son a cup of yogurt out of the fridge this morning and on the bottom of the cup... eeewww. I closed the silverware drawer after retrieving a spoon to stir my coffee and my hand grazed the underside of the counter... eeewww. I wipe the counters about twelve times a day. Guess it's time to give the fridge interior a scrub down. Just what I wanted to do on a "no day." Add it to the list. And I won't even begin about the crumbs. Maybe I need to find a cleaner.
Or maybe I need to buck up and do it myself. We'll see about that.
He also is having issues with "r" in the middle of words, which means that Percy, one of his favorite trains on the island of Sodor, becomes "Pussy." Which is hysterically funny that a two year old is running around saying "I like Pussy, Mommy." To which his grandfather replied, "well, at least he's starting early." Well, there's an image I didn't need. But given the indiscriminate "s" dropping, "Pussy" actually sounds more like "Puthy." Really, it's amazing we understand the little guy at all.
My house is sticky. Every single surface I touch seems to pull back. I'm not a dirty person. I might be a slightly messy person (in that I can't control the clutter that is EMANATING from every room and closet in my abode), but I've never stood for being a dirty person. But I moved the coffee maker this morning and... ewww. Grey stuff that didn't easily wipe up, even with Lysol and repeated scrubbing. I handed my son a cup of yogurt out of the fridge this morning and on the bottom of the cup... eeewww. I closed the silverware drawer after retrieving a spoon to stir my coffee and my hand grazed the underside of the counter... eeewww. I wipe the counters about twelve times a day. Guess it's time to give the fridge interior a scrub down. Just what I wanted to do on a "no day." Add it to the list. And I won't even begin about the crumbs. Maybe I need to find a cleaner.
Or maybe I need to buck up and do it myself. We'll see about that.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
novel madness
I'm drafting a novel, as part of NaNoWriMo, and so I have been ignoring my blog.
I did, however, find this little gem in my inbox this morning, grace a Garrison Keillor:
Voltaire said, "Let us read and let us dance — two amusements that will never do any harm to the world."
Amen to that.
Happy Thanksgiving, and write on!
I did, however, find this little gem in my inbox this morning, grace a Garrison Keillor:
Voltaire said, "Let us read and let us dance — two amusements that will never do any harm to the world."
Amen to that.
Happy Thanksgiving, and write on!
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
randomness
So the video link in the last entry isn't working. I tried uploading twice. A file format problem? I don't know. It doesn't even come up on my computer when I'm on my own blog, which isn't good. Maybe it's a way of telling me not to post vids of the kids on the blog.
Finished the 1st draft of Vidui, the one act I'm submitting to the Cincinnati Fringe Festival on or around Dec. 7. Hoorah.
Decided (stupidly?) to undertake the insanity of writing a novel in honor of National Novel Writing Month. There is a nifty web site here where you can create a page to monitor your progress, chat with other insane asylum escapees who have decided to devote way too much time to idle whitter, and generally stew about being a writer in the world. Today I wrote 1,088 words. I started today; I'm 6 days behind everyone else. And to my chagrin, I found out that I can't use my WIP as part of the 50,000 word count to "win." So I've embarked on a new story. It should be an interesting ride. Like I don't have enough to do right now.
My son just came up to me and said, "Mommy, I want a pretzel. Come on!" and pulled at my sleeve. He is holding part of a banana in his hand. "Hey mom, I'm very funny," he says, trying to pull me away from the computer. "Get up, mom!"
Okay, I'm taking the hint!
Finished the 1st draft of Vidui, the one act I'm submitting to the Cincinnati Fringe Festival on or around Dec. 7. Hoorah.
Decided (stupidly?) to undertake the insanity of writing a novel in honor of National Novel Writing Month. There is a nifty web site here where you can create a page to monitor your progress, chat with other insane asylum escapees who have decided to devote way too much time to idle whitter, and generally stew about being a writer in the world. Today I wrote 1,088 words. I started today; I'm 6 days behind everyone else. And to my chagrin, I found out that I can't use my WIP as part of the 50,000 word count to "win." So I've embarked on a new story. It should be an interesting ride. Like I don't have enough to do right now.
My son just came up to me and said, "Mommy, I want a pretzel. Come on!" and pulled at my sleeve. He is holding part of a banana in his hand. "Hey mom, I'm very funny," he says, trying to pull me away from the computer. "Get up, mom!"
Okay, I'm taking the hint!
Friday, November 02, 2007
my little'un sings a song for you
My lovely daughter has been bitten by the performance bug. Wonder where she gets that from? :)
Friday, October 26, 2007
Ten Ways to Anger a Knitter
This was written by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee in her book (based on her blog) Yarn Harlot. I decided I had to post it on my blog because I think DH has read this and is covertly doing all of these things at once.
1. Constantly refer to her work as a "cute hobby."
2. When the knitter shows you a Shetland shawl she knit from handspun yarn that took 264 hours of her life to produce and will be an heirloom that her great-great grandchildren will be wrapped in on the days of their birth, say, "I saw one just like this at Wal-Mart!"
3. On every journey you take with your knitter, make a point of driving by yarn shops but make sure you don't have time to stop. (This works especially well if there is a sale on.)
4. Shrink something.
5. Tell her that you don't know why she knits socks, that it seems silly when they are only $10 for five pairs and they're just as good.
6. Tell the knitter that you are sorry, but you really can't feel a difference between cashmere and acrylic.
7. Tell her that you aren't the sort of person who could learn to knit, since you can't "just sit there for hours."
8. Quietly take one out of every set of four double-pointed needles that she has and put them down the side of the couch. (You can't convince me that you aren't doing this already.)
9. If you are a child, grown faster than your knitter can knit. Requesting intricate sweaters and then refusing to wear them is also highly effective.
10. Try to ban knitting during TV time, because the clicking of the needles annoys you.
1. Constantly refer to her work as a "cute hobby."
2. When the knitter shows you a Shetland shawl she knit from handspun yarn that took 264 hours of her life to produce and will be an heirloom that her great-great grandchildren will be wrapped in on the days of their birth, say, "I saw one just like this at Wal-Mart!"
3. On every journey you take with your knitter, make a point of driving by yarn shops but make sure you don't have time to stop. (This works especially well if there is a sale on.)
4. Shrink something.
5. Tell her that you don't know why she knits socks, that it seems silly when they are only $10 for five pairs and they're just as good.
6. Tell the knitter that you are sorry, but you really can't feel a difference between cashmere and acrylic.
7. Tell her that you aren't the sort of person who could learn to knit, since you can't "just sit there for hours."
8. Quietly take one out of every set of four double-pointed needles that she has and put them down the side of the couch. (You can't convince me that you aren't doing this already.)
9. If you are a child, grown faster than your knitter can knit. Requesting intricate sweaters and then refusing to wear them is also highly effective.
10. Try to ban knitting during TV time, because the clicking of the needles annoys you.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
What I Like and Don't Like About Writing
In class, we had a fastwrite prompt to respond to Philip Schultz's poem "What I Like and Don't Like"
Here's my fastwrite:
When I Write
I like being able to take of my shoes
And nurse a cup of coffee
That's not so strong that a spoon
Stands at attention within its bounds.
I like indistinguishable background noise but I also like silence.
I like classical music and even-keeled jazz.
I don't like lyrics because they pull focus,
And I don't like strong coffee because then I can't sit still.
I like being at home at my desk by the picture window overlooking the pond.
I like this style of pen.
I don't like the phone
But I can't bring myself to silence it.
I like to pace around the kitchen
Or empty the dishwasher
While the words germinate.
I like wandering into the dining room
And feeling the curved chairs
While thoughts percolate.
Padding in pajamas and slippers
Owning my own time.
I like deciding when to eat lunch
Even if it's 3 p.m.
I don't like rigidity,
Or when the computer freezes up.
I don't like spam but
I also don't like when the whole day drifts by
Without a single email from
family or friend.
I like smelling tomato sauce bubbling on the stove
As I aim to sum up my final line.
I hate the sound of my printer--
Too distracting.
I don't like TV during the day.
I like getting out,
Going for a run,
Tricking my mind into
Subconscious problem solving
By outrunning my thoughts.
I like browsing and meandering store aisles
Imagining what I would buy
With my imaginary advance.
Mostly, I like
Being alone with my thoughts--
the quiet that embraces me
as the pen scratches along.
Here's my fastwrite:
When I Write
I like being able to take of my shoes
And nurse a cup of coffee
That's not so strong that a spoon
Stands at attention within its bounds.
I like indistinguishable background noise but I also like silence.
I like classical music and even-keeled jazz.
I don't like lyrics because they pull focus,
And I don't like strong coffee because then I can't sit still.
I like being at home at my desk by the picture window overlooking the pond.
I like this style of pen.
I don't like the phone
But I can't bring myself to silence it.
I like to pace around the kitchen
Or empty the dishwasher
While the words germinate.
I like wandering into the dining room
And feeling the curved chairs
While thoughts percolate.
Padding in pajamas and slippers
Owning my own time.
I like deciding when to eat lunch
Even if it's 3 p.m.
I don't like rigidity,
Or when the computer freezes up.
I don't like spam but
I also don't like when the whole day drifts by
Without a single email from
family or friend.
I like smelling tomato sauce bubbling on the stove
As I aim to sum up my final line.
I hate the sound of my printer--
Too distracting.
I don't like TV during the day.
I like getting out,
Going for a run,
Tricking my mind into
Subconscious problem solving
By outrunning my thoughts.
I like browsing and meandering store aisles
Imagining what I would buy
With my imaginary advance.
Mostly, I like
Being alone with my thoughts--
the quiet that embraces me
as the pen scratches along.
Elie Wiesel
I heard Elie Wiesel speak a couple of nights ago at the Dayton Literary Peace Prize award presentation. As I expected, he was incredible. Very life-affirming.
He said that despite writing about hatred and those who hate, he never wants to perpetuate hate with his writing. He also said he naively believed, when first writing his book Night (which took ten years to write!), that writing it would usher in peace. He doesn't think he has yet succeeded because there are still human rights violations being committed around the world.
His mission now, Wiesel said, and he thinks this is the mission of all writers, is to bear witness and tell the stories because in the end, all that is left is the story. It is up to each of us to bear witness and write the story.
He said that despite writing about hatred and those who hate, he never wants to perpetuate hate with his writing. He also said he naively believed, when first writing his book Night (which took ten years to write!), that writing it would usher in peace. He doesn't think he has yet succeeded because there are still human rights violations being committed around the world.
His mission now, Wiesel said, and he thinks this is the mission of all writers, is to bear witness and tell the stories because in the end, all that is left is the story. It is up to each of us to bear witness and write the story.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Thursday
It's Thursday, and I'm feeling "blah." Maybe because it is the end of vacation (we leave for Dayton tomorrow after having spent almost 10 days in Bonita Springs, FL) or maybe it is because I just found out that my summerlong work stint is coming to a close. Seems that the woman who supervises me and gives me assignments (and does so only because the one who decided to bring me in in the first place "voluntarily resigned" last month) spoke with her supervisor, who said that given the recent hiring of a new employee who functions both as copywriter and as proofreader, I should no longer plan on coming in "on a regular basis." I should instead view my work as an "as needed" basis.
I knew this moment was coming. The work isn't really what I care about so much--I mean, really, finding multiple synonyms for "beautiful" and "luxurious" isn't exactly brain surgery. It was having a purpose outside of the four walls of my home, away from my kids and my spouse. It was roaming the office cube farm and saying "hi" to co-workers and talking with grownups. It was only two days a week, and it might continue occasionally, but I can no longer "count on" this experience twice a week. Oh and the money was good. So that makes me a little sad.
I have already contacted an agency that is submitting my name for an editing/proofing job in Clifton (about an hour from my house), that's 10-20 hours a week but the time is flexible. The pay is a lot less (presumably because I'm sharing pay with the agency) and the subject matter is technical, but it's money and it's getting out of the house. It's not a "creative environment" and since my skills don't "exactly" match up, I'm not sure they'll even want me for it.
I need to breathe and go with the flow, and remember that being out of work for a couple weeks isn't devastating. I've been trying to find more time and energy to run and write for me, and this "pause" should give me that.
Gotta finish packing. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. Marc's right--I get too attached.
I knew this moment was coming. The work isn't really what I care about so much--I mean, really, finding multiple synonyms for "beautiful" and "luxurious" isn't exactly brain surgery. It was having a purpose outside of the four walls of my home, away from my kids and my spouse. It was roaming the office cube farm and saying "hi" to co-workers and talking with grownups. It was only two days a week, and it might continue occasionally, but I can no longer "count on" this experience twice a week. Oh and the money was good. So that makes me a little sad.
I have already contacted an agency that is submitting my name for an editing/proofing job in Clifton (about an hour from my house), that's 10-20 hours a week but the time is flexible. The pay is a lot less (presumably because I'm sharing pay with the agency) and the subject matter is technical, but it's money and it's getting out of the house. It's not a "creative environment" and since my skills don't "exactly" match up, I'm not sure they'll even want me for it.
I need to breathe and go with the flow, and remember that being out of work for a couple weeks isn't devastating. I've been trying to find more time and energy to run and write for me, and this "pause" should give me that.
Gotta finish packing. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. Marc's right--I get too attached.
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