November 25, 2008

A touch of blogstipation.

Filed under: Life — Tags: , , , , , , — denise @ 5:13 am

It’s not writer’s block.

Because then, I’d stare at the screen and wrack my very soul for something to write…

No… I have TONS to write about.  VOLUMES.  ROOMS OF VOLUMES.

NEIGHBORHOODS, FULL OF HOUSES, FULL OF ROOMS OF VOLUMES…  but, honestly, I don’t feel like it right now. I can’t explain it.  I’m too……….tired… to write.

We’ve been invaded by mice – clearly, the Nihm variety, that seek only to outsmart the traps Kory patiently lays for them.

Chad, the squirrel, came back …. the nostalgia of Thanksgiving bringing him to our door once more (or mayhap the heady perfume of banana/peanut butter milkshake, but whatevs) and hilarity and squirrel growling ensued.

The Teen is back.  Mostly.  I mean, he’s visiting at the moment (wherein visiting= hiding in basement and eating an entire box of chocolate donuts in one night)… but there’s news on his front.

The Baby will be 2 ENTIRE years old on Thanksgiving and I owe that kid a blog in a major way….

I’ve had forty-billion “AGED MATERNAL SENIOR CITIZEN GOD YOU ARE TOO OLD TO HAVE A BABY TESTS” that mostly consist of me sobbing at my desk and then… everything turning out to be probably ok.  There is also a lot of this:

Them: Oh! You’re 37!

Me: Yep.

Them: You don’t LOOK 37.  (squinty eyes)

Me: Well, thanks.  The chub helps.  Makes one look younger.

Them: Hm. Well.  Now that we know you are 37, please sit down so we can discuss at length the hundreds…no, THOUSANDS of ways everything can go horribly wrong with your unborn child, the birth, and you… all the many ways that you and your stupid ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE are going to screw everything up for anyone.

Me: Wow.  I’ve never felt so old in my life.

Them: We haven’t even GOTTEN to your weight yet, sucker.

I’m losing weight, as I always do my first trimester… but otherwise, doing quite well despite my obvious need for a walker and an assisted living plan.

The holidays have snuck back up on me.  I’m kind of looking forward to them this year.  I’m hoping that I can avoid any horrible family fights and dramatic sudden escapes in tears this year… and have a Zen couple of days.  I’m too tired to be outraged and too over it to stir up another pot, as I did last year.

I admit it, the holidays don’t always bring out the best in me.  I get over-stimulated (oh, stop it) and cranky and mostly just want to be at home… so all the NOT BEING AT HOME starts to wear on me and sometimes, as a result, I act a teensy bit badly.  AHEM. Several glasses of wine have been known to help this process along.

This year, I vow to NOT accuse my deeply religious father-in-law of having a Jesus Superiority Complex.  I vow to not tell him that his church is a sham.

I vow to not compare my best friend to the Virgin Mary forced to give birth in the barn, after a miscommunication about dinner plans.

I vow to not say the words, “You are all against me!” on Christmas Eve.

Oh yes, I did.

Life… is just tripping along and I’m hoping this little update will act like a metaphorical prune and gets things moving along again.

Sometimes, a little nudge is all you need.

September 29, 2008

Farmer’s Market with someone 70 years younger than John McCain

We hit the Mill City Farmer’s Market on Saturday and Kory took these gorgeous pictures of The Baby and various food items.

The Baby caused quite a stir with her new shirt that Mommy bought her at Things Younger Than John McCain. People approached us in a steady stream asking about the shirt, where we got it, how to buy it, etc. Women in hemp clothes rummaged through their felted bags for a pen and paper to write the website down… Men and teenagers pointed and laughed and a certain someone lapped up the attention and would surely have agreed to sign autographs if she knew how to spell her name.  Instead, she told them, ” CUPCAKE! MOON!” and everyone was all, “Right on, little Democrat.”

A close up of Mr. Duck… with The Baby flapping her wings and saying, “WACK! WACK” in the background.

This is a “Pulled Pork Taco”, but it’s really nachos.  It was so good, we growled and hooted.

Outside the mill…. where we practiced counting.

Counting for The Baby goes like this:


She’s 25% right and that’s pretty good if you aren’t even two two two years old yet.

A picture Kory took of the old mill, that I plan to have framed…

And finally, the flowers we bought on our way out, with amazing and unusual lime green and purple cabbages mixed in.

September 14, 2008

Clothes & Sandwiches

Today Kory helped me with The Baby’s room, which is at any given moment overrun by her clothes.

Clothes that used to fit her.

Clothes that don’t fit her next.

Clothes that are clean but not yet put away.

Clothes that are dirty.

Clothes for Goodwill.

Clothes I want to keep.

Clothes are are for summer.

Clothes that are for winter.

Clothes for friends that are about to have babies.

Clothes, clothes, GODDAMN CLOTHES everywhere.

Her clothes must be worked through almost weekly or our house will be overrun by tiny pink socks and Dora shirts.  Seriously, its like tweezing. Things quickly can get out of control.

You could say to me, “Yo, brainiac. How’s about you stop buying her so many clothes?”

To that I would respond, “The day girls clothes stop being so adorable and Target stops selling them for $4.00, that’s when, chumpy!”

So, today we had one of our marathon sessions in which we look at EVERY TAG to see if it’s too small, too big, THE RIGHT FUCKING SEASON, and we, to use a Palin-ism, CULL THE SPECIES.  We don’t chase the clothes around and shoot at them from airplanes or cut off the left arm of her shirts and pajamas for bounty, but only because her room is the size of a shoebox and chainsaws would be unwieldy in there.

After cleaning I made breakfast for Kory, The Teen (who was here for the weekend) and myself…. The Baby Her Highness of All Things Elmo already having eaten hours before, giant hot pink smear of yogurt still in her hair to prove it.

I made breakfast croques – a family favorite.  An English muffun (fork split only, fer Christ’s sake) with sliced turkey or ham and your choice of cheese, mustard and mayo – under the broiler.

This is how Kory contributed to the making of breakfast croques:

Me: *squeezing mayo from a squeeze bottle onto the muffins*

Kory: Blooooop!

Kory: BlllooooOOOoooop!

(repeat. a lot.)

Me: Dude. Nice condiment sound effects.

Kory: I’m good, right?  I’m totally good.

Me: Yo. You aren’t paying attention. I’m putting on the mustard now.

Kory: doodleydoodleydoodley...

Me: *squeezing mustard out in little dribbles*

Kory: doodleydoodleydoodley...

Kory: You see? You see how that’s a different sound from the mayo?

Me: Yeah, man. You’re amazing.

Kory: I’m really good at this.  I should find a way to do this for a living.

Me: Sandwich Special Effects Master

Kory: I was thinking more Sandwich Sound Technician, but yeah.

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