crick, crack, quack

138.0 (considering weekend indulgence, pretty good) Box of joy. Received my awesome geeky Harry Potter Lumos booklight and fabulous baking cookbook in oversized Amazon box. I sat on the floor, using the booklight to read the recipes even though it was not dark out. Yesterday, after a cafe breakfast of eggs florentine, I found myself pushed into a chiropractor's office which, up until that moment, I had always mistaken for a bail bonds office. I am iffy about chiropractors - not because they have reputations for being quacks (I enjoy a good bit of quakery from time to time), but because I do not like having strangers touch me. Let alone wrench me in unnatural directions. He sized me up, prodding my neck down to my hips, pressing on my head. "Lower your chin and push down low like you're having a baby," he directed. I raised my eyebrows; men speaking familiarly about childbirth always amaze me. He tipped me over onto my front and someone tenderized my back with a vacuum cleaner. "Now relax," he said, then pushed down on my back violently with a loud snap. "Oh dear," I said - only it came out "AUUGH!" and my feet flew up to hit him in the shoulder. Obviously doing a bad job relaxing. "There, now, didn't that feel good?" "No, but we'll give it some time." He seemed disappointed. Half an hour later, we arrived at dance practice. Gavin ran off with Chris under his uncle's supervision, and I discovered that I was not needed in any of the sets, so I went outside, laid on the grass under an enormous tree, tucked my slippers under my head, and fell asleep. Very productive. Ran my tail off at the gym, mulling things over. We faxed in our rent application on Friday; at best, we could expect an answer today or tomorrow. Thursday or Friday at the latest. Toweled my sweat from the weight machines, daydreaming about rugs, curtains, and chaise lounges. Showered, smiling about christmas lights and holiday baking. Whether or not we get this place, it is a first step toward being real grown-ups out on our own, and that is dream-fodder enough. And guess what? We're going to New York next week.

"We're interested at looking at cheap crap holes, thank you"

Mike finally spoke to a real estate agent yesterday, as we browsed open houses. We found several nice homes we could reasonably afford if we went in with my mother, but the point here is to flop gracelessly out of the nest on our own and land in whatever fresh hell we can. Either she needs to find a cozy little cottage for herself, or we must find a run-down tin-roof plantation house and try to prop it upright with 2x4s while fending off the rats with our slippers. Either way, though, it is time, as proved by the look of incredulous exasperation on Mike's face as he held up a melted spatula while my mother said, "No, you can't throw that away, I've had that since I was 8." Ha! Really, though, I've known that spatula all my life, he has to be kidding. Gavin liked shopping for a new house. "And this is my room, and grannie's room, and mom and dad can stay in here," he pointed to a closet. Thanks.

"Look for the hairy white guy"

Harris, friend of 12 years. Played guitar in my living room yesterday evening, slept on the couch bed. I crept down at 4:30am to wake him for his airplane, curled on the couch bed with him and chuckled about old times while he squeezed me hard and declared I was as not-frail as ever. He's living in rural Mexico, making music and eating avocados the size of my head. I dropped him off at the deserted airport as the sun rose, kissed him goodbye and sent him on his way. That fellow has a perpetual twinkle in his dilated eyes, I just love him. He's off to San Francisco for a week, and I hope it doesn't take another 4 years to hang out again.

 

birds and kittens

After more than 10 years of finding no orphans on our porch (the only way we get new pets), the babies are suddenly landing on us left and right. First PoPoPo, our new black kitten, who is, as I type, swinging from the lampshade, and then our new little bird, Mugwort Returns. Yesterday Mike and I walked up to the grocery store, Gavin hidden under a blue umbrella in his stroller against the not-quite-rain. I saw a man step distastefully over a small lump of something on the sidewalk, and I took a peek at it to make sure it wasn't cat poop. It might have been in a few days, but at the moment it was a tiny fledgling bird, still bald and mostly mouth. I picked it up from its graceless splatted sprawl on the concrete. When I was a child, my mother had successfully raised two baby birds to adulthood, but more often the little things died overnight. It is not a happy thing to find a baby bird, but we finished shopping and brought it home, dumping it on my mother. She made a shoe box nest for it and managed to poke watery bits of bread and peanut butter into it with a blunt toothpick. All is hopeful for Mugwort R. (the birds of my childhood were Mugwort and Mugwort II). But as we settled in for bed, a howl came from outside and my mother ran outside to help rescue a tiny kitten who was stuck in our neighbor's undercarriage. An hour and a half later, my mother returned without the kitten, then spent the rest of the night going out to try again as the kitten periodically cried. She'll probably have better luck this morning, and then we will then have 3 babies in our care. I sort of like this, except for the lack of sleep. After a week and a half of 6-hour nights, I'm TIRED. In other news, I received an unusual phone call from one of my best high school friends, who lives in rural Mexico picking fruit and recording music and throwing concerts with his commune of musicians. He is coming to visit on Monday. 

 No exciting tales from the field trip to the Grossology Exhibit - except that it was really gross, as promised.  Student at the smelling station: "What is this smell? I think it's armpit." *poke* Beep - wrong. Student: "Maybe it's foot." *poke* Beep - wrong. Student: "Maybe it's -" Teacher: "It's anus! Anus already!" *poke poke poke* Beep - correct.

hot stuff

This weekend is the Highland Games Redux, since the festival got flooded out in April. Last night, after setting up the tea tent, Gavin and I hung out in the back of our friend's truck, and I told him about having a truck when I was a kid. He listened to my story of the killer windshield-smashing ice balls, the story of the kid getting run over by his truck and smashed into the mud unharmed, and my stories of camping in the back of the truck with three cats under a 50-foot fiberglass cow. He patted my shoulder encouragingly, "Mom, tell me more stories!" Amazing, I've known him all his life and suddenly he's able to get to know me, too. Neato.

Busy, dehydrated, heat-strokey day at the festival. Drove the boys home a bit early and took them to see Cars again so we could cool down in the A/C and suck down liters of liquid. Losing personal battle against caffeine, need more sleep.

sad today

Went home and made stuffed potatoes. Stirred potato on plate and threw it out. Went with family to dance practice at Windward Community College as night fell. Mom complained that I don't make enough time for her. The kids rolled down the slope of hill while I sat on the wall at the top under the banyan tree. Gavin's blinky shoes made him look like a firefly way down there with my wee cousin. My aunt told me her house finally sold, then dropped a towel around my shivering shoulders as she went back in to dance. I was just sitting and thinking and my eyes got all blurry and hot so I wiped them on the borrowed towel. Gavin and Chris ran up and laid dandelions next to me, then tumbled down the hill again in the wet grass. I clutched the towel around me and laid down on the stone wall, watching the stars between the branches of the banyan tree, looking for UFOs. Only saw the universe.

Was supposed to wake up Mike at 3:45am to go to news station for a highland performance. Woke up at 2:30am to watch Gavin breathe, sleepily convinced he was swallowing too much and was about to vomit in his sleep (paranoid because Chris had stomach flu), fell back asleep and had bad dreams about being useless (unable to keep book from being destroyed), woke up tear-stained and puffy-eyed at 5am to mother exclaiming about the time. Mike leaped up, pulled on pants, kissed me, and drove away on his motorcycle in 7 minutes. Went into the bathroom and stood staring stupidly at the scale for a bit. Washed face, put on dress, ate cereal, sat for half an hour with mom listening to her explain how I never sit with her. I love her. I want more time with her. I want more time alone. I want more time with Gavin. I want more. A lot more.


edit: and I think I am getting sick. Need nap, can't have one. Wah.

Auuuugh

Bikini wax. We knew where this was headed the minute we opened the jar.

"Pain and irritation free!" Ha ha ha. My mom was on the phone with her sister, periodically walking by the bathroom and laughing at us between screams. Very helpful. Gavin, busy with his trains, poked his head in a few times and said, "What are you guys doing?" "We're pulling mommy's leg hair off with hot wax, sweetie." "Why you do that?" "Well, we don't really know. It's Wednesday night, what else do you do?"

What I have learned about hot wax:

1. Let it cool a little
2. Blood makes it hard to re-stick a spot, so you better do it right the first time
3. Fast. Do it fast.
4. Bikini wax doesn't work so well on knees and toes for some reason
5. It works great on men's nipples
6. Don't get any on the cat
7. Don't believe the box about anything. Ever.
8. The "soothing cream" was designed to add insult to injury
9. Be frugal with the cloth strips, they don't give you enough, probably just to have a laugh

Having run out of strips, we went to bed. Mike was missing patches of fur. I was covered randomly in rashy bumps. We changed Gavin into his jammies and brushed his teeth, then he ran into my mom's room for his nightly wind-down routine. While Mike washed up, I got in my jammies and spread out on the bed - unfolding a suspicious rumple of blanket with my foot and sliding my leg straight through a hidden pile of fresh kitten poop.
 

Perfect.

Scotch and Scones

Everyone loves a society bash! We arrived in style, chatting over cocktails with other Scottish folk before dinner. My mom's sweetie, Ron, was decked out in his kilt and military regalia, seated across from an adorable tiny old catholic priest who happens to also be an ex-marine. They didn't like each other.
"I always wanted a son like him," said the Father to the man next to him, indicating Ron. "A nasty, nasty son. Just look at him. Hey!" he called across the table, "What are you doing sitting way over there?"
"If I was sitting any closer you'd be kicking me under the table," said Ron.
"No, no... I'd hit you with my belt buckle."
"You hit me with that belt buckle and you're not getting it back."
"You see how nasty he is?"

Gavin teamed up with another 3 year old boy, who's mother was wilting with frustration by the end of the night as her (usually sweet) son screeched, kicked, snatched toys, and knocked over things while Gavin stared at him in concern. There were some older kids who herded the two little boys to a quiet corner and kept them busy. Maybe having an older kid and a little kid would work out pretty well. Hmm.

Pictures:

All dolled up for the dinner:



Mike wears his new kilt shirt:



Gavin discovers the kiddie table:

Gavin vs Chris

My son has a nice dark sense of humor, and my cousin does not.

"I got a boo boo on my hand," bragged my cousin in a whine.
"Oh no, we'll have to cut it off. Then we'd have to cut off the other one to make it even," I said.
"No!! I don't want you to cut off my hands!!" shrieked Chris.
Gavin cackled happily.

"Gavin! Eat your meatballs or I'll tie you to the ceiling fan and beat you with a stick!" I said.
Gavin says through a mouthful of meatball, "I go round and round, hit hit hit hit! Ha ha ha"
Chris throws down his fork in horror, "Noooo!"

Where did this child come from?

koi door

138 (cookies)

Gavin crawled under the coffee table at the goodbye party and sighed heavily. The RSCDS reminisced about the 15 years they had been coming up to the apartment for drinks and snacks every summer, my mother's sweetie started a discussion about the Da Vinci Code (he likes to throw grenades, and our group is a mixed bag of non-religious and catholics). The curmudgeon in our group was not happy with his return to our dance group, rolling her eyes as he cracked jokes and joined the dances.

The kid and I were glad to go to bed. I woke up before the birds, tip-toed into the bathroom (watching out for cat poops) and washed up. First day of school. Yesterday I spread out a door-sized sheet of dark green construction paper on the library floor and stared at it for a good 10 minutes before going at it. I cut out water from white paper, glued an orange cutout of a koi on top of it, decorated the paper with bright red and yellow flowers, and went into detailing with a sharpie. I used my white-out to create highlights across the scales. Taped it up, and now my door is so cool. Teachers poked their heads in all day to ask, "Did you draw that?" which confused me because it was a collage, but it was nice anyway. Today I need to carve the school's name into 6 large pieces of audio equipment, so I get to have at it with a power tool. Watch out.