knife to the 'stache!

Have emerged from depression, like a rabbit running outside while the foxes are busy trying on top hats, or whatever foxes do.

"If Mr. Vole calls again, show him up; if I am alive I shall be delighted to see him; and if I am dead he would like to see me. "

-Henry Fox, 1705-1722

Arrived at work with hair tossing and shoes squeaking, which set my janitor off into a bit of a happy dance with his tiny broom and dustpail-on-a-stick. Good mood was spoiled slightly by emails by person in another department who is unhappy because I asked them to cancel a thing I had requested, saving them work, and they wanted it in a form which they didn't actually have. "Please build a flaming hoop and jump through it before mailing the forms. No, you don't need an example - NO THAT IS THE WRONG KIND OF HOOP." Set fire to the hoop anyway, and I'm done with it.

Diet today:



Am still under-calorie. But there is a chance I may die.


In other news

Have an infected finger due to a light saber injury.

Have started answering the door with a kitchen knife, because I don't trust one of the lurking lurkers. He has a blond mustache, and pops up at the window like a squirrel in a baseball cap. For extra fun, have been using this one:


Have been arguing for weeks with FTD, who failed to deliver my mom's flowers on Mother's Day. Which she did not fail to notice. It took a while, because they "have a high volume of nondelivery complaints due to the holiday" (hmmm) but it appears they will grudgingly throw a box of flowers at her door and not charge me for it.

Potty training update: making headway - the toddler has been running to the same spot to pee repeatedly. If I can figure out how to hide the potty in the couch and disguise it with throw pillows, we could have this in the bag.

Enjoyed cards, bourbon, and laughs with friends the other night while the kids watched a movie. Mike bought a little case of darts for the weekly dad's dart group. We have started to settle in and form roots; worrying.

but where's my candy, mister?

A day in town to buy books for work. I dropped off the kid for his last day of school and considered making a dash around the back of the island for the first time. Took a look at the ocean while considering this; huge clouds walked the horizon, dragging heavy feet of rain. Opted for the road more familiar. Kept just ahead of the storm, ducking as it passed a leg overhead, blowing rain in a slow-moving mist through the valleys. 

 "Oh, we are doing such a good thing here, look at you, you're dying," said the bookstore barista, startling me out of a wide yawn. Two of them stood looking at me expectantly. Thursday morning doesn't have a lot happening, even at a place with free wifi. The rolls in the case were as large as my head, and I wanted one, for no other reason than to hold it and lord it over the other cafe-goers, but instead I said, "Coffee. Um, medium." "Which one?" said the she-barista, waving the cup between the two spouts of the machine. "Whichever you like better." "Give her 'Henry'," said the he-barista, swiping my card. "That'll be two-hundred dollars and fifty cents. If you need anything, I'll be in the back having a nap." I took my $2.05 coffee, which had a sleeve that told the story of Henry, who had been a cat. I looked into the coffee suspiciously. A few minutes later, I was back at the counter, considering a tin of gum and a tin of mints. "Gum?" "That delicious coffee gave me horrible coffee breath. Now I need mints. I see what kind of an operation you're running here." "You're on to us." "It's freezing in here. If I get the gum, the act of chewing might help keep me warm." "No, no it won't." "But I have to look official because I'm here for work and chewing gum will make me look stupid." "Oh, no, you could never look stu..." he trailed off, watching my horrible chewing pantomime. "Mints, then." "Yes, please." 

Many hours later, I loaded boxes of books into the car for the library, and set off to pick up a few items before heading home. As I was shoving the grocery cart into the corral and running back to the car, a battered van suddenly slowed in the parking lot. The driver was barking at a passenger, who was hitting the driver's chest eagerly with the back of a hand, and he began to lean out in the way a man does when he's about to try something. I avoided eye contact and ran by, pretending not to hear him. Drove to the exit, which was blocked for road work, and had to swing around up an aisle of the parking lot. The van had circled and was coming in the other direction. The driver leaned out again, and I was going to drive past, but caught the words "your roof". Maybe I had a drink or a box of donuts up there or something. It wouldn't be the first time. "I have something that can fix the top of your car, where the paint is discolored!" "What's that?" "It'll get it all smooth and look like new!" "What's that." There were people moving in the back of the van, behind tinted windows. "I can give you a price, you can think about it." "What's that." He turned to reach for something, his passenger was trying to suppress a wolfish grin. "If you don't mind, pull over and park." "Oh, I DO mind, no thank you." I sped off, slipped onto the main road, and gunned it. Idiots. Suppressed urge to brake, turn around, and go tell them off for being such godawful kidnappers and/or salesmen.

  Foolproof! 

 But that is all ok, because I bought a fancy new potato peeler and a bottle of alcoholic Sweet Tea. Summer is for partying and peeling things.

Nuffinmuch

Wherein the harpy goes on an aimless ramble.

After unlocking the library and flicking on the lights, we pressed ourselves up against the glass doors to stare down the field at the Career Day happenings: myself, to oogle whistfully at the cops, firemen, and EMTs; my co-worker and janitor, to tut disapprovingly about the high school boys playing basketball around the booths instead of getting career info. I put on a cardigan and settled into a cart of books to barcode, while janitor ruminated on the subject of forced sterilization of stupid kids.


I don't know how you do it, JT - I tried looking up "stupid kids", and got distracted by this. It's all downhill from here.

My mind has been circling a few tracks of thought these past few days. Have been composing a mental letter to someone in real-life, whom I am fairly sure does not read my blog (but if so, well, it saves me an awkward conversation).

Dear married men man,
When I said that no stray peen had landed in my hand, it was not a complaint, or an open invitation. You are fairly attractive not-hideous good-looking You're nice and all, but it's not gonna happen. I know it can be confusing when a woman has breasts breast one or more breasts and gives eye contact and laughs occasionally and does not push you violently away when you get too close, but that does not a contract for nookie make. Even hussies nice librarians enjoy a bit of friendly eye-batting, please don't muck it up by jumping in with your face and hands and trousers. I freeze up when caught by surprise, like that time in 9th grade I was watching a movie with a boy and he got a stiffie and it brushed my leg and I froze up and then dumped him by phone the next day but that does not mean I am subscribing to your service. If I were, you would know, because I would make a shameless ass of myself. Please go back to being politely aloof. The thrill of the new really, really isn't worth ruining everything in your life over, anyway. For real.

love kthx
librarian

Derailment: I recently saw that crossed-out "love" signature on passiveaggressivenotes.com, which made me laugh/facepalm because I had actually done it once. But not to be a douchecanoe. I had written the word because I meant it, then realized that was not really such a good thing, but I didn't have another card and had already taped things to the inside of it and the mail lady was coming, so I stared at it, almost left it, started to cross it out, realized I now had to cover it completely or it would look like a deliberate guilt-cross-out, scribbled madly, considered drawing flowers and hearts sprouting out of it to make it look like a fancy motif, and finally decided, feck it. Signed it and sent it. Am now owning my douchecanoery.

Anyway, have also been thinking about babies. They are dropping out of people everywhere. There are now THREE downstairs, amongst the new neighbors. Arg, the new neighbors... if I start ranting about everything to do with all these new neighbors I will have to slap myself with my keyboard to get back on track. IT IS NOT FREE LAUNDRY FOR THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT THE KEY TO THE ROOM EVEN IF THEY DO BRING BEER AND WHERE DID ALL THESE SCABBY UNDERFED PUPPIES COME FROM. *slap* Babies. Three of them, squalling in chorus all day and night. And I don't even mind, because I love babies, and I squee in delight and clutch my ovaries when my friends bring their squishy little infants into the library - but I am surprised to find that while all this is true, I am so, so glad I don't have to pick them up and change their milk-poo and blearily coax my relationship through six weeks of bleeding aching sleep deprivation while juggling the needs of a toddler and school kid. It's a beautiful, wonderful thing, and I am very, truly happy for the folks I know who are plunging in and doing it - pats on the back and kisses to the bleary eyes, you glorious reckless fools. (But keep your fucking crack-head friends out of the laundry room and stop parking us in with trucks filled with puppy crates.)

Am swearing and going on because I am very hungry. Have replaced eating with reading and singing Fairies Wear Boots very loudly in the car and watching Dexter and studying Mike for signs of sociopathy.


Hmm, Mike also smiles and says reassuring things and wears pants...

Leif has helped by shredding an entire loaf of bread, and dumping beverages into my yarn stash. Will be hollow-eyed and shrunken-bellied in no time.

I think I was trying to make this more of a crafty-mom blog with pretty pictures of knitting and quilts and clean children in hand-sewn clothes. I am doing it wrong.

Mother's Day

Having two sons is kind of a fantastic and perfect thing. 

 Same age

There are things I wish I had done, things I wish I had not done, and things I wonder how I'll do, but the best bit of advice about parenting came from my mom when she said, "In order to screw up your kids, you have to screw up the same way every day. Learning from your screw-ups won't do it properly." So there you go. 

 I spent yesterday evening at the hotel with one of my best, oldest friends (well, she's 29 - she used to be 12) and her mom. We sat on the lanai, catching up on 8 years of stories, ordered room service, made fun of the risotto and tuna tartar, and boiled our butts in the hot tub. I drove home a bit late, and stood for a moment by the car staring up at the stars before feeling my way up the stairs in the dark to throw back some cold medicince and crash into bed next to my baby. He slept until about 3am before going into coughing fits every 30 seconds, and by the time he woke up at 6am I was almost crying with sleep deprivation. Finally got up and crawled onto the couch, where Leif snuggled up, nursed, coughed, and vomited all over me. All the makings of a real Mother's Day. Gavin gave gifts; a school-crafted pen with a fake rose florist-taped to the top (surprisingly not-terrible, which I think is an infraction of the DOE Standards, to which I owe a pile of dried-shaving-cream creations), and a package of tea blossoms sent over by my mom. The man, having again forgotten to get me anything, made eggs Benedict to make up for it. We video-chatted with my mom and drove over to the hotel to crash the pool with the ladies. Leif fell in the hot tub and I had to pick him out like a dumpling. We stole the room's packages of fancy coffee, drank all the complementary sodas in the mini fridge, and everyone came back to the house for a pancake brunch (more 'unch than br') with piles of berries and cream.

 

And pretended to fill up her mom's tea cup with syrup.

 

Compared sunburns and bottom-sizes; I won. Am going to make up with the scale. Pancakes will have to go frisbee-ing off the lanai, where stoned surfers will come flipping up out of the bushes like salmon to catch them out of the air. 

 Really a good day.