Friday, September 29, 2006

Tired Typing

It's always a bad idea to type tired. You might as well be drunk, and we all know that doesn't work well... I just have many things I want to say, and I don't want to neglect the blog, so bear with me if I'm less than smooth.
Went to see the Dr the other day. Nurse Practitioner actually.
I was a little scared to have this appointment, because I'm always afraid that they're going to tell me I'm a hypochondriac and I should get over myself. I told myself that I would just present the facts, and any reasonable medical professional would look into them. So I told her that my side still hurts, even though I had the gall bladder out Two Years Ago. She agreed that I have waited a reasonable length of time for the pain to go away, and said that it was probably just scar tissue from the surgery. We'll do imaging and go from there. I said, assuming it is scar tissue, aren't we done? I mean, if it isn't going to damage me, why bother to treat it? And she said that pain is not ok, and that we will try to get rid of it.
I'm just so pleased. And not just because she doesn't think I'm nuts. Also because secretly I was worried I had some dread disease. I knew it wasn't likely, but I feel like I have more to lose now than ever before. I can't stand the thought of not being able there for my peeps. I'd lay there at night with this slowly worsening twinge in my side thinking "That which ye fear will come upon you", then telling myself not to fear the twinge. It seems so silly now, like when you were little and scared of a noise, then you turned the light on and returned to the land of the rational.
It's late.
Gotta pump.
Don't let the bedbugs bite,

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Welcome to my world

I know, you've been waiting on tenterhooks

Wow, could this be the first aside since I moved to Blogger? Methinks it is. I'll have to make it good.
Ok. So here's a personal pet peeve. When people say "Tenderhooks" when they mean "Tenterhooks". Or "Peaked" when they mean "Piqued". Or it's and its, they're and their, then and than, and any misuse what-so-ever of 's.
I do, sometimes, make the last few mistakes. I am very ashamed when I do.

to hear how Boy's camp out went. It went well. Not too much rain, and not too cold. He played well with others. He ran around in the woods. He got his clothes incredibly filthy.

Speaking of filthy, I have to admit that me and my peeps have been a little under washed lately. I feel guilty about this occasionally, when I havenothing else to feel guilty about, but then I read the comments on this entry. I feel better. I'm apparently not the only mom with voodoo hair. I'm also not the only one who sleeps in her clothes or lives in her pjs.
I really miss having long hair, because although it got greasy, if you hadn't washed it for three days all you had to do to be presentable was pull it back. Now it's simply impossible. I'd wear a hat, but it really makes it hard to tell I'm a girl.
Simon went to see an ENT doctor. This is great, because he's had a permanent case of the stuffies since I've known him. The Dr put him on a handfull of drugs and said if that doesn't work there's always surgery. A modest improvement has been made. This, of course, means he can smell now. Which means that showers may become more of a priority. There was a certain security to be had in knowing he couldn't smell me.
Of course tonight we were laying in bed and he says "What do you smell right now"
"Nothing. What do you smell?"
"Last night's soup."
This last comment made by me, because I am prone to noticing odd smells at random times. They can usually be discribed as smelling like butt. But Boy and Simon always insist there is nothing smelly in the air at all. That I'm imagining it. Like people do that, just imagine smells. HA! The stink's on the other foot now, isn't it!
On a comletely different note, Peanut has taken to watching Weebl and Bob. Which really isn't for kids (see the one about Pie Stains, very funny), but Peanut enjoys very much. I swear she recognises the screen. She fusses until the cartoon starts, then watches in silent awe. Actually, she likes some other cartoons too, but Weebl and Bob are a sure thing. Sometimes I worry she'll end up talking like them. I guess the good thing about that would be that no one would know she was saying "Hot Piss!".
I think that's all I have to say right now. I did get another love letter from our favorite Jew-hater, but a discussion of that will have to wait. I have to pee.

Talk to you soon,

Friday, September 22, 2006

Boy Scout Update

I couldn't leave well enough alone, so I took Boy aside and explained my last niggling problem with the Boy Scouts. And I went to the NPR site and looked up what Randy Cohen (check out Oct 31, 2004) had to say, and made Boy have a listen.
At first Boy said "I might as well quit to make things easier.", which I took to mean, "I might as well quit to make you happy". So I said no, I just wanted him to know what was going on. I have to admit to being a little torn up by Randy saying "And you have to wonder about parents who let their children join...". I told Boy I wanted him to go camping with his friends and I wanted him to have fun, but that I didn't want to support discrimination. Boy said there couldn't be that many gay people who even wanted to be in the scouts, and I said it didn't matter. The problem was that they weren't allowed. And when the truth came crashing down, Boy cried, because just like me he wanted to have his cake and eat it too.
I felt like the world's biggest shit. Boy is saying how his friends get to go and they never even bother thinking about stuff like this, but if he goes it will be in the back of his mind. And how he'll be wondering if he's weak for joining even though he knows the national group is doing something wrong.
In the end I told him I'd already paid the dues, and I wasn't prepared to ask for them back, so since the damage had already been done he might as well go have fun. It's not like they were going to go commit hate crimes or anything. I can't imagine the subject will ever even be mentioned. It's the principle of the thing. When the time comes to pay our dues next year, Boy can make a decision for himself with his eyes wide open. The shine will have worn off, and maybe I'll have found enough other social avenues to take the sting off it.
But then I wonder what I'm teaching the Boy. It's ok to do the wrong thing if the right thing hurts?
Sometimes, honest to God, I wish I was stupid. I wish I and my children were stupid and we didn't think about things and we blundered through life doing the things that made us happy and buying the things we liked without guilt over the political implications of our recreational pursuits and whether small asian children made our clothes. It must be nice to drink a cup of coffee without feeling guilty if it's not fair trade. Unfortunately I have the personality type that believes there are rights and wrongs and I should pursue the right for its own sake. Apparently Boy has it too.
It wears. It wears and sometimes you don't feel rewarded. No one thanks you for reducing our reliance on foreign oil and pesticides by buying used clothing. If you're a child you get ragged on for wearing second hand jeans. And any warm fuzzies you get from buying organic corn are wiped clean away by the price of the stuff.

Wow. Ok, I didn't set out to have a bitch fest, but frankly it felt good.

Have you ever read "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" by Phillip K Dick? In it, people can change their mood with a remote. I believe I will now switch to mood 134, "content with the nature of her existence and really pleased to be going to pump breast milk".

Boy Scouts

I've been opposed to the boy scouts for a while now. I think the religious aspect of it is icky, and I don't want to support an organization that excludes openly gay men and boys. If you ask me, it's a club to teach boys how to be the All-American-Stereotypical-Man-Complete-With-Bigotry-And-Religious-Intolerance.
But in our neighborhood it is one of very few ways for Boy to get some social interaction. Boy's friends invited him to join in a fit of neighborliness. I didn't have the heart to say, "No, my son can't go because I support human rights.", and I really couldn't say "No thanks, we don't believe in a deity.". Around here both of those statements are like saying, "I like to eat babies raw, I sleep in bat blood, I fornicate with dogs, and I LIKE IT!".
We had a long family talk about the religion thing, because the boy scouts make you swear you'll do your duty to God. And if you can't swear that, don't bother to join. So Boy was torn. How could he swear on his honor if he didn't believe in God? Simon and Boy came to the conclusion that they hadn't defined "God", therefore a comfortable loop hole had been left in which Boy could rest his conscience. Simon went online and saw that there are, in fact, Buddhist boy scouts. If they could swing it, Boy could. This is what the men folk have concluded, and Boy is happily making plans to camp as we speak.
I, however, am still wrestling with my conscience. Because the bigotry has not been addressed, has it? Simon says this is an opportunity for Boy to change things from within. I don't know. I feel like I'm not standing up for what I believe in. Maybe I should call the ethicist on that NPR show. I feel like a sleaze ball wimp for letting Boy join, but I'd feel like a big asshole if I told Boy he couldn't join so I could be comfortable on my moral high horse.
Boy is going on his first camp out, though. It will be raining all weekend. Raining and cold. On his first camp out. Yep. I'm already a nervous wreck. What if something happens to him? What if he's miserable and rude for the entire trip? I wish his first camp out was one that Simon or I could go on with him, but that won't be this weekend. I'll get back with you on Sunday and let you know how it went.

On the Peanut front: Peanut cut her first tooth on Wednesday! Yay!
Still not into new tastes, but I was reassured to hear from One Tall Momma that her kiddo didn't eat till they were 11 months old. It helps me relax.
My milk supply is taking a turn for the worst. I'm taking a "nursing vacation", only with pumping instead of nursing. The idea is to pump like a mad woman every couple of hours. All day and night. And drink lots of fenugreek tea. And pump some more. We had thought that if my milk supply ran low we'd just feed Peanut some formula. In fact I was putting a bottle of formula in her mouth when the thought occurred to me that maybe she wouldn't like the taste. She took a suck and froze. Like she'd been zapped or something. She took another sip, like, "No, really, this is a bottle, right? 'Cause I know how bottles taste...". Then she took it out and looked at it, like, "The hell?". And that was it. She wouldn't drink any more. So we're taking a two-pronged approach. We spike some of her bottles with formula to get her used to the taste little by little, and I'm pumping like crazy to get my supply back.
I'll let you know how that goes too.
Gotta go pump (big surprise),

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Hate Mail!

I just got my first ever piece of hate mail. Hate email actually. See, I joined a Yahoo Group for homeschoolers that was open to secular and Christian homeschoolers alike. Then I got this in my inbox:

John 14:1-17
1) " Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me. 2) In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? 3) And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. 4) And you know the way where I am going." 5) Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?" 6) Jesus said to him, " I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me. 7) If you had known me, you would have known my Father also; henceforth you know him and have seen him."

Among other scriptures. It was very long, and I don't want to cram it in here. But the verses were picked to be a lesson in why now would be a good time to become a Christian, seeing as how the end of the world is near.
So I posted this:

I do not mean to be rude, or to hurt feelings or make a big stink, but
what in the wide world of sports does this have to do with
homeschooling? I was so happy to find this group, especially when I
read this:
"In years past there has been a horrifying division between religious
homeschoolers and nonreligious homeschoolers. Neither side has been
very nice to each other to our shame. When we began ******* (edited, obviously), we wanted to change that. We longed for a place where all homeschoolers, no matter what their backgrounds, would be welcomed with open arms in a safe zone of acceptance. Over the past two years, I believe we have
become that place."
(from the message titled "**** **** leaders intro")
Am I in the wrong Yahoo Group? I assumed that I would find info about Christians looking for Christian ways to homeschool, and others
interested in more secular versions of homeschooling, but I was pretty
sure it would be more or less about homeschooling, not proselytizing.
I am confused.

Again, I don't mean to offend, I'm just asking: If I am looking for a
homeschooling discussion sans pressure to become a Christian, am I in the wrong yahoo group?

And someone put up a post saying the scripture was just a bonus you got when you joined the group, and the moderator wrote and said, Whoops!, that shouldn't have been there, and I felt reassured. Then I got this:

Well, Just like the restoftheHook-nosed, Hymie, no-good-for
nothing-Jew-bastards everywhere else on thisplanet, you scream at the very mention of Jesus. You got Him kicked out of public Schools, American Government, and now you want Him off the internet.
Just another sign of His soon return. This time He's gonna send you
and your father the Devil to the lake of fire. John 8:44.
And we both know that you aren't really a "Jew" Rev. 2:9 and 3:9.
Get some practice being a lamp shade.

I know that trying to argue with this person is like pissing in the wind, but I couldn't help myself, so I wrote this:

Dear James,

I am completely baffled as to where your complaints and insults are coming from. The inaccuracies abound. I hardly know where to start.

I'm not a Jew. I believe you've made the assumption based on my last name. It is Armenian. Many, many, many Armenians were put to death on the basis of their Christianity, and I feel that to pass this error by would be an insult to their memory. Feel free to research the Armenian genocide and become enlightened.

I do not want Jesus kicked off the internet. I thought I was joining a yahoo group that was not for Christians only. When I got your first e-mail I was puzzled. So I posted the following:

(Here I quoted the message I'd posted...)

I did not say that I wanted Jesus off the internet, or even this Yahoo Group. I just didn't want pressure to become a Christian. As I explained in an email to another member,
"If I were to see a recipie posted, or a funny poem, or someone saying they liked a book, that would be neighborly of the person who posted. It's like they're saying, I liked this, maybe you would too. And if someone says "Pray for me", or "Where's a good church?", or "Who knows of a biology textbook with a creationist viewpoint?" that makes sense too, because people are asking for what they need. It's all good. But when someone says "Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me." and "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me." that's different. That's proselytizing. And it may seem like a cherry on top to you, but it felt like a slap in the face to me. And I could choose to pass it by, but I was honestly confused by the welcome with the one hand and the slap with the other. So I figured I'd just ask. It was awkward, seeing as how I'm new and all, but I was really confused. "

I did not ask to be witnessed to in your first email, and politely asked if proselytizing was what this Yahoo group was about. You've chosen to witness to me, again, about what being a Christian is about. Apparently it is about sending insults to people you don't know, and hating Jews. It may shock you, especially since you've made it so appealing, but I think I'll pass.

I'll also pass this email on to the group moderators. I am, yet again, confused about the nature of this yahoo group.

And there you have it.
I'm probably showing my ignorance, but what is that lampshade reference about?

Going to practise,


The other day boy and I were going to the library. He asked the following questions:

"What is today?"
"What is Tehran?"
"What is the theme song to the Bob Newhart Show?"

Yeah, sometimes thoughts are like that.

Monday, September 18, 2006

In Which Peanut is a Stinker

Peanut doesn't like to eat. This is a picture of her tasting cereal for the first time:

It looks remarkably like the last time she tasted cereal. There have been many cereal events between, and yet she still hasn't gotten used to the taste. For that matter, she hasn't gotten used to any taste. I tried applesauce with her, at which point she actually barfed. Ever since then I haven't gotten her to shut her mouth and swallow so much as a single spoonful. She makes a face, then opens her mouth wide and waits for the offending taste to dribble out. I wait a few days, hoping she'll forget, then try again. I'm beginning to despair she'll ever eat. She's 7 months old, for crying out loud.
Loon gave us a little bag on a handle that you put food into. The baby sucks on it and strains the food into their mouth. Unless it's my baby, who gums it until she notices there's a flavor, then studies the handle for a while before flinging it away. And if you try to put it into her mouth she purses her lips! Oooooo! Willful! Today I squeezed some grapes into a little bowl, stuck my finger between her gums so she couldn't block me, then spooned the juice into her mouth. Oh the faces! At least she didn't cry. Or barf. Maybe juice is the way to go, I'll just put it in a bottle . Ha ha ha. What a mean trick. I know that's what she's going to think, that I've played a mean trick on her and ruined a perfectly good bottle. At some point she's got to get used to the idea, and I don't see how she will unless she gets practise. And since she seems to be progressing from just letting it dribble to actively pursing her lips, I'm running out of ideas.
Boy wasn't this difficult. Although I suppose he's making up for it now. Simon and I had a long, long, long talk with him last night. We reached the conclusion that Boy was upset because the guest was beating him soundly at his own games on his own turf, and if he could beat Boy at everything, what was the use of Boy? Boy feels like he has no value if he can't be the best at something. Which is very sad. I remember feeling this way myself at points later in life, and having to come to grips with the fact that people have value simply because they are alive. I've always hoped I could impart this knowledge to Boy before it hit him in the face. I thought by telling him that comparison is bad, and that there will ALWAYS be someone better than you at whatever you're doing, he would take it to heart and ride smoothly over that bump in the road. Apparently not. He knows it in his head but he doesn't feel like it's true, and I don't know what to do about that.
Can't figure out how to look it up on the Internet either, which is my usual way of hunting down things I don't know.
Going to deal with my life now,

Sunday, September 17, 2006

I can't take ANY MORE !!!!

Boy has a friend over. I've just lied and said that Boy and I have chores to do, so said friend will have to leave. The truth is I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY MORE!!!!
Boy is being a shit. He's jealous of his friend. He's bossing him around and generally being an ass because he desperately wants to be better than his friend at something. Or for himself to be more knowledgeable about something. Or for something to go his way. I'm embarrassed and sickened and I've had a million talks with the Boy in the past 24 hours and I'M THROUGH!

I'm tempted to ground the Boy for the rest of his life. I think it will make my life easier if Boy never plays another board/video game EVER EVER Again! I'll certainly NEVER EVER let Boy have a guest over, because it was embarrassing. EMBARRASSING!



But I know that all these things would accomplish would be to lower Boy's self esteem. They would not address the problem, and therefore the behavior would be unlikely to extinguish. I don't know what I'm going to do, but it won't be coming down on Boy like a ton of bricks.

I'll probably have him go on about things he likes about himself, and things other people probably like about him. And we'll carry on for a while about how comparison is the work of the Devil. The Key to Unhappiness. After that I'm a little lost. Because I want to walk him through how his behavior looked from my viewpoint/ his friend's viewpoint, and there will be tears. Honestly though, it was bad. Maybe tears are called for.

I'd like for him to gain some skills in mastering his emotions. Feeling jealous, but then letting it go so he doesn't act jealous. Getting over himself without a lot of negative self-talk or stuffing his feelings away. How do you teach someone to do that?

I know not. This is parenthood at its most frustrating. When you have a thing you know needs to happen for your child and you don't know how to do it.

Wish me luck,

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Scribble much?

So for the subject of Art this year, Boy is going to focus on drawing. We're using a text called Drawing for Older Children and Teens. I'm very excited about it.
The first exercise the author has you do is scribble on typing paper, with markers or whatnot, along to music. The purpose is to lighten up. To get you in touch with drawing as an expression of your feelings. To show you how to let go of your need for drawings to be representational or pretty or just so.
I was convinced Boy would have a hard time with it. He has a million self imposed rules about how drawings are supposed to look and be made.
Boy howdy was I wrong. He scribbled with glee for almost an hour. He actually giggled at points. I haven't seen him enjoy himself that much in ages. Perhaps ever. He just scribbled with wild abandon and laughed.
Hope the rest of the projects live up to the opening act.

On another note... I was looking at my site tracker and am baffled. Maybe you readers can help. Apparently someone from Medellin, Columbia checked out my blog by way of this blog. If you read even just the title of the blog, and you know me at all, you will realize that this blogger and I have very little in common. I seriously doubt they linked to me, and I surely didn't see a link. Also, this person visited for 0 seconds. So how does this statistic get created? What does it mean? I am so confused.

Feeling un-savvy,

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


There's a simply huge spider in my window Right Now. And we watched it eat a fly. It did that spinny thing with the fly between its legs just like on Charlotte's Web.

This should endear it to me, as I hate houseflies. And somewhere deep, deep down, there's a Buddhist in me waiting to become enlightened, and it says the spider should live.

The rest of me says the spider must die, because otherwise it will crawl down and lurch over to the bed and TOUCH ME while I'm asleep and unprotected.

So I put it to you, my readers, should the spider die? Be evicted (which is probably a death sentence too) or left alone to lurk in the corner where I can keep an eye on it.

Comment button to your right,

The last time I had a nightmare that made me sit up screaming, it was about a spider that touched my face. I really did scream. And I think I flailed a bit, and maybe hit Simon on accident a little.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

I crack me up.

I thought this was pretty funny.
And yes, we Oopsed again. I'll get back to you in two weeks on that one. Simon gave me a hickey, and I have no idea how in the heck I'm going to hide it, it being too hot for scarves.
As for the Zoe O's, we bought a case of twelve. We're on box seven. They taste a little like fish. Nuff said.
Me write bad when tired. Going to bed now.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

How it goes..

Pretty good, actually.
Homeschooling, that is. I haven't killed Boy yet, and have only been tempted twice. Biology has been going really really well, because I found a great lesson online. I'm hoping that maybe I can do that the whole year- decide ahead of time what the topic is and then find a lesson online that someone else already went to the trouble to perfect. I just hope there are enough good lessons out there.
Now that I think about it, I wonder if I could do that for history and the like too.
I'll have to look into that.
It did take me a while to find a lesson I was happy with. I wonder if it would save time in the long run. Maybe I would get quicker at finding lessons once I'd been doing it for a while.
But I digress. Boy starts out doing math. Then he reads for history and English, which gives me time to take a nap with Peanut, because she and I haven't slept well lately. She's teething, and not being one to suffer in silence, she cries and moans in her sleep. Boy never did that. He was such a happy baby. Always smiling, and if he did fall or bump something he looked at me to see if he needed to cry, and if I smiled and said "Whoopsy!" he wouldn't. Not so with Peanut. Oh no. The other day she rolled over and bumped her head on something. She screamed and screamed. I really mean she screamed, not that she cried loudly or wailed. Screamed. Everyone came running to see the blood. So you're thinking she's a bit of a drama queen, but I think it's slightly more than that, because she wouldn't roll from front to back for several days afterward. Refused. Laid on her tummy and wailed till someone else rolled her over. And all of these protests include real tears. I swear I didn't see tears in Boy's eyes for years. I just don't know what to make of it.
But I've digressed again! Sheesh. When I wake up we do something about lunch and Boy takes a break, but it's not like he really needs to because he's been reading something he wanted to read for the past hour. After lunch we've done Spanish and biology, which have gone very smoothly. Honestly, I don't know how I'd do this without the Internet though. Well actually, I guess I'd have to spend money. Quite a bit of money, for courses and texts. As it is, I've spent nothing so far. I do want to spend some money, but I want to be sure of what I'm spending it on first. It's nerve wracking to fork out $300 on a course you've never even seen. Not gonna do-er.
Boy practises his trumpet and he's done. Which is a little awkward, because New York dictates that he has to be in school for six hours a day (not counting lunch). I don't think that's fair. He doesn't have to walk between classes or go to his locker or have attendance taken- he should get to cash in on all the time he gains, but NY says no. Simon says I should work up some creative accounting. Which I suppose I may do at some point, but it isn't really necessary. We can totally fill up the time. I just don't think it's fair that we have to.
I also don't think it's fair for NY to tell me what subjects to teach if Boy does well on his tests. If I drop the ball I can see putting me on probation and dictating things to me, but until then I think I should get free rein. I guess some people here rely on the fact that there is very little oversight actually given to homeschooling. Plenty is mandated, little is done. So some parents do whatever they want and figure they'll get away with it. I'm a little nervous about that approach. You never know when it'll bite you in the ass. I'd rather bitch about it but do it right.
I've signed Boy up for an acting class. He's such a ham. It's just the thing, but it means I'll have to get up with Simon at 3:30 to drive him to work so I'll have the car. Simon says "Boohoo", but he goes to bed before I do.
I should go, the Peanut stirs.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Things I've been meaning to say.

I've been meaning to tell you about Peanut's baby shower. And Boy's broken bone. And my mother's last visit. And maybe a bit about families and love.
And I'm putting this down here now so I won't forget, because I can't write now because I have to pump. And wash bottles.
If Simon was here, he'd say "Of course you do." It is rare that he gets a moment alone with me and I am not on my way to go pump. Pump pump pump.
It is cool to have breast milk in a bottle though.
Reason the first: You always know how much she drank.
Reason the second: Feeding her in public is never awkward.
Reason the third, and most awesome: You pump more than you need to feed her, which means you lose weight.
And I just thought of a fourth: You are required to take a guilt free break four times a day.
Ok, I really do have to go pump.

Take to you soon,

Sunday, September 03, 2006


Chocolate espresso malt balls.
Mayhaps you think "Yuck".
You have obviously never tried one, because they are the yummiest thing man has ever made. I would never have spent money on them myself, but luckily for me Simon is an adventurous sort, who brings yummy things home and then tries to hide them from me. In his sock drawer. Which is silly, because I'm the only one who ever puts away the laundry. He probably thinks I didn't know about the Cadbury bar that was there last week. Ha! I had a Twix bar in the kitchen cupboard for two weeks!
But I stray far, far away from the topic at hand...
They are a lovely deep dark brown. Rather large-ish to fit in your mouth. There's a thin glossy layer that takes a second to dissolve, and sometimes you can slide it off into a shuddering pile with your tongue. Then the full rich chocolatey flavor come out, and you can't believe anything could taste this chocolatey. More chocolatey than the chocolatey-est chocolate. That, my friends, is the espresso talking. Oh yeah. Sometimes I can't help myself, and I just bite bite bite bite and it's gone. Other times I let it dissolve until I'm left with the strangely crystalized malt center, which I chew delicately with my front teeth. Either way it is very hard not to reach for another.
I know that sounded like an ad. Which reminds me- at night on the local NPR station they play old radio programs, like "The Great Guildersleeve"- and all of them are sponsored by some company, which reserves half the program for its own promotion. My favorite is Miracle Whip. Boy do they lay it on thick. Did you know it is the BEST SALAD DRESSING EVER? EVER! IT'S TRUE! EVER! THE BEST!
You probably have to be there.

I'm going to leave you now, and go eat me a malt ball.
Yum Yum!

Friday, September 01, 2006


I've been trying to post for two days now, and life just keeps getting in the way. But the good news is:
*My house is cleaner than it's been since we moved in. Yay me!
*Every night the dishes and bottles have been washed before 10 pm. Which is awesome. Last night it was 8:00 and the baby was asleep and the dishes were washed and there was nothing pressing to do, so I sat on the floor with Simon and played Pente for a while guilt free. It felt decadent.
*I think I have a good start on Boy's schooling. Enough for the first day, at least. Hopefully the first week. I've found some textbooks online for History and Spanish. The internet Rocks. Hard. So does the library.
*Under the heading TMI, Simon and I have been very good about using birth control, so there shouldn't be another big scare for at least one more month.
*I'm trying to get a couple of moms together who are into secular homeschooling. I've found a Yahoo Group of local homeschoolers, but it's dominated by the Christiany types. That's fine and all, but for social pursuits I'd like a network of more likeminded people.

Yesterday we went to the farmer's market, where we ran into no fewer than 5 other people from the Hippy Mom's Club. We all stood in a circle gabbing. By "We" I mean everyone else. I simply didn't have anything to say, since my children weren't in the library's spanish program, I don't know how to tie a maitai, and Simon isn't a professor. I didn't feel left out exactly, just quiet. I like all those women very much. I wonder how I looked to them. If I seemed strangely quiet. Was my hair messy? Back in Ann Arbor and Ypsi I felt like this sometimes, but usually I felt more like I had my feet under me. Even if I was meeting new people I was more self assured than I am here. Maybe moving cuts the rug out from under you. I don't have any history here. I don't do anything here. I don't know anyone or any place. It's dizzying.

Sometimes I think we should settle here. There's good land for growing things. It's cheap, too. Surely time will warm me up to this place. Other times I think my heart is tied to Ann Arbor, and no amount of time will change that.

Going to bed now.
Go play Pente...