Lordy, Lordy

I'm 40!!

I need so much to post and tell you everything, EVERYTHING, about the past weekend, which was gloriously filled with excess and joy, with such incredible friends...old and new, from near and far. But I am honestly not recovered yet, here, four full days later, and I'm totally crashing.

However, even if I can't do the recap tonight, I figured you should know...the fait is all accompli. My thirties, my best decade thus far, are over.

What's next?

Happy Halloween!

Enjoy my disturbing video!

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Daylight

We are finally out of the Sick House.

Both girls got the swine flu this past week, to the surprise of none of the parents of small children that I know. Compared to the other stories I've heard, it seems we got a moderate wallop.

The OG was out of school for four consecutive days. The YG was out for four days total, although not consecutive due to my apparent lack of parenting ability. She seriously looked fine after she missed the first two days, and had the requisite 24-hour fever-free period (well, OK, 22 1/2, but she had a LOT of energy). Plus, honestly, I've not experienced any illness with my children that has necessitated more than a day or two out of school - as we are VERY healthy midwestern stock, we are - so I wasn't expecting this level of commitment to being sick, you know.

So, she got sick last Monday, and stayed home Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday with her sister. By Friday both girls were looking healthy enough to go to school, so I sent them on. We even made it out to Malcontent Mama's for a party out west at Casa Avocado last Saturday, and the girls had a total blast running around in the Hill Country.

Everything looked pretty good, until Sunday morning, the YG wakes up, boom, vomits, fever starts spiking, and we are going to the Children's Hospital because I am a NERVOUS WOMAN and because a healthy five-year-old girl who lives in the next neighborhood over died last week from this crap.

They tested her, and it is indeed the piggy flu, or at least they assume it is, because that's 95% of the flu that is going around down here. Not much they could do at that point, though; it's a bit late for the vaccine, and also for Tamiflu. So, she stayed home Monday and today as well.

(I'd just like to state, after staying with them for a good portion of last week, that I have a renewed appreciation for stay-at-home mothers. Oh, my GOD, how do you do it? Granted, I usually only see my kids at home when they are sick and necessarily crabby, but I swear, if I had to break up one more whining session between those two, I was going to Pack Up And Leave.)

As of this evening, YG seems more-or-less refreshed and ready to head back to school, and the OG hasn't shown any sign of regressing, so presumably we are past this. Of course, I'm immensely grateful for the fact that we're not permanently scathed by this, but I do have to say, THIS FLU SUCKS. We didn't get the vaccine - and I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered much if we had, as I think we got exposed several weeks ago, right when the vaccine was arriving. But, I'd damn sure recommend it to everyone now.

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Planning 40th birthday party. Freaking out a little. In that spot where I'm sure nobody likes me, and the ones that do will show up and the party won't be any fun. Can't think about it without worrying, so am not really thinking that much about it. Glad The Man is stepping in here to help out.

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Oh, and if you were wondering whether three 10-month-old Thin Mints, found in the remnants of their sleeve in the bottom of one's freezer, still taste good?

Yes. Yes, in fact, they do.

Sickish

No H1N1, just some garden-variety blech.

In fact, it could literally be a garden-variety illness, in that it is entirely possible that it's allergy-related. If I indeed had a garden anymore, which I don't. I have a yard, which we'll charitably say is being xeriscaped. (Translation: eaten by volunteer lantanas, which The Man, native Texan that he is, cannot bring himself to cut down.)

Where was I? Oh, yes, sick. Sort of sick. Throat sore, energy drained, crabby as fuck...but not so bad as to get to stay home. That is a luxury one must save for the true deal, or when one's children have the true deal.

The girls are about in the same boat. The YG is coughing and a bit hoarse, but not spiking a fever. The OG is going through her usual fall-winter behavioral reaction to what is presumably an exposure to strep. She's agitated, stressed, itchy, doing all sorts of ticcing, and will burst into screechy tears, in school and at home, at the drop of a hat. Plus, she's got that tell-tale rash around her mouth. All this tells me that she could REALLY REALLY use a healthy dose of antibiotics right now, but I feel like a complete dope heading to her doctor asking for antibiotics when she doesn't have a fever, or any real external signs of infection.

So, given that I know her signs, you'd think I would be kind, or sympathetic to her, in her time of distress. But you would be WRONG. I am about to string her up. I can't imagine what sort of horrible Munchausen-By-Proxy mother would wish for her darling daughter to have a fever, but I do. I just CANNOT WAIT for it to spike so that I have an excuse to beg for three weeks worth of Zithromax.

The YG is charming her way through kindergarten, as is her wont. My worries for her are altogether different from the OG. Whereas the OG has always excelled academically and struggled socially, I fear that the reverse may be true for the YG. She is so incredibly verbal, and bright, and SO freakin' observant that it stuns me; however, she really, really can't read. And she - get this, ex-reading teacher here - writes BACKWARDS a lot of the time, even her own name! I fear that we may be having to investigate some sort of external teaching, which is not typical to my family. (My side is all just like the OG. Smart, nervous, socially awkward victims, that's us.)

My back-to-workness is chugging along as per usual. No major stressors yet; my status is pretty much quo. Still love my boss, still dubious about at least one of my worksites. The job is still fun, though I daydream sometimes about something else. What, exactly, I'm unclear about. I think I've officially reached the point, in this, the twilight of my 39th year, that I really and truly just can no longer face the notion of going back to school. (More to the point, it's really that I can't face the notion of taking the GRE again. But as the first is predicated by the second, it's all pretty much the same thing.)

40 is approaching rapidly. Plans are falling into place for what I hope will be a good shindig. Send me an e-mail if you're going to be in Austin in mid-November, and I'll hook you up.

What up with all of you? Anyone flu-bound yet?

I Strain

I am currently in the throes of a several-hour-per-night session of entering registration data for our local Girl Scout service unit. (Because they ASKED me to and I didn't have a quick excuse handy; that's why.)

It is mindless, time-consuming, and nastily eye-straining; but most of all, it has made me hate typing on my computer THOROUGHLY.

So, sorry for lack of updating lately. I have about two more weeks of at least an hour per night on this horrific task, and then it should be mostly over.

But, right now? I wish I had one of Badger's sidecars, and that I did not have this huge stack of forms in front of me. Sadly, this is not the case.

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Oh, but I do have to share this anecdote from the YG's first day of kindergarten.

See, she is extremely into "pretty." For several years now, she's been wearing what essentially amounts to "ball gowns" to school, nearly on a daily basis. So, it has always been common for her to ask me "Do I look pretty?" before heading somewhere.

Well, on the first day of school, she had been planning to wear a big flouncy dress of hers. But, when she came out of her room that morning, she had on a cute pair of "blingy" jeans that I had bought her at JC Penney, and a shirt with rhinestone buttons.

And, do you know what she asked me?

"Mama, do I look rockin' ? I want to look ROCKIN'."

I had to assure her that, as her mother, that I might not be the best judge of what "rockin'" looks like anymore, but as far as I was concerned, she was the rockinist girl in the kindergarten.

Sigh

I would LOVE to tell you about things like MY NEW CAR and how I HAVE TO GO BACK TO WORK next week.

However, that would also involve telling you about how the OG knocked a full beer (mine) onto my laptop, and about how the prognosis for said laptop is iffy at best, and that due to this incredibly expensive mishap, I am sans computer for the time being, and have to share the desktop with The Man, who is most inconveniently "working" when I want to be blogging.

Anyway, it's over at Happy Mac for some CPR. I'm hoping there is life in it yet.

In the meantime, ponder the fact that my clunker has officially been cashed, and that I am now the proud owner of this:


Yes, it's a HYBRID. I am so frackin' thrilled, and promise not to be smug.

What is upsettingly to me, personally, it's also my first non-American car. I feel very bad about this - I was UAW born and bred, and pretty much figured I'd be UAW dead. But, crap, this is a hybrid car that costs well under $20,000...and the dealership is within walking distance of my house!

The Man and I talked about it, and bared our bleeding hearts to each other, and decided to go for it in a moment of quick decision-making. (Well, actually, he had no idea I was doing it, until I called him from the dealership saying "I've got my pen poised above my checkbook; should I buy a car?")

In the end, I figure that this may be our only foreign car we buy. By the time we're in the market for another car, American hybrids will probably have caught up in price and mileage. I bet a Chevy Volt will be in our driveway in five years.

But, I'd be lying if I said I did not l-o-o-o-ve it.

Summer Obsession List

Hey! It's time for the annual Summer Obsession List! I'd have gotten to it sooner, except for the first item on the list:

• Watching Battlestar Galactica from Netflix. We're almost through Season One. LOVE. I'm actually kind of glad to be watching it this way, as it is so much more gratifying to sit and watch two episodes a night than to have to wait weeks - or whole seasons - in between. (Or, at least it is until some frakkin' geekboy ruins the whole series for me by telling me the ending. Geekboys: Be Warned.)

• Hayao Miyazaki. In the past three days, the girls and I have watched Spirited Away twice, and My Neighbor Totoro once, and Howl's Moving Castle is on hold for me at the library. I am amazed that I've lived this long without seeing these movies, because they are quite incredible, Spirited Away most particularly. It manages to be both highly realistic - with an eye for detail that clearly inspired The Iron Giant, another favorite of mine - and also completely WACK. The story line just takes off, five minutes into the movie, and almost immediately goes absolutely NUTS, and stays there for two, mesmerizing hours. I can only dream of having that kind of creativity. (The kids LOVED it, too, and are begging me to purchase it. I think it may have to happen.)

• William Shatner reading the Palin speeches and Twitters from Conan. Damn, I will always love that man. Ever since I bought Golden Throats back in college - with his versions of "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" - I have thought he was the funniest person alive. He's completely able to be both seriously pompous AND making fun of himself at the same time! He was meta when meta wasn't cool.

• Going to the gym. Five times a week, bitches; 45 minutes of cardio, and 20 minutes of resistance. I can now run a full 10 minutes on the treadmill without having to slow down, and I swam laps for 35 minutes straight - and really only stopped because I realized that I hadn't put on sunscreen (having figured I'd make it 10 minutes tops). I've lost 10 pounds - but, before you get all congratulatory, I'd put on 20, so this is only a market correction. For all this work, I really wish the scale were dipping much lower than this, but, hey, it's a start.

• On the same note, dieting. This is further down on the obsession list, but I'm definitely giving it the old college try. I'm buying soysage and sawdust - erm, I mean "high fiber" - tortillas and bread, and I've pretty much cut out dairy and such. I only wish that the exercising didn't make me so incredibly HUNGRY, because it really makes this part so much harder.

• Stiff by Mary Roach, which is on my bedside table. I am completely fascinated about what happens to our bodies after we die. Oddly enough, it manages to be informative AND hilarious. I highly recommend it, if you have a stomach for such things - although, honestly, she couches things pretty palatably, if you can use a word for such a subject. (For example, she decides at one point that the word "maggot" is too nasty, so she substitutes the word "hacienda" for it.) I love it, although I read with horrible teeming jealousy, because I SO wish I could write that well.

• Improving my poker game. Sadly, I haven't made much progress on this end, because I can't win a game to save my life, but I'd really like to get better. Like SOON, because our annual full-day tournament is coming up in two weeks, and I'm afraid I'm going to SUCK DONKEY.

• The new library branch that just opened up in our hood. Music! Videos! Books on CD! Harry Potter books on CD, which the OG loves, and which cost bajillions of dollars to actually purchase! Reading a book review, and then, on a whim, getting online to reserve it! I'm very happy, and saving considerable jack in the process.

• Organizing my photographs. I have two large boxes of loose photos that date back to when the YG was one, which was - um, FOUR years ago. So far, I've made at least two years of progress, but it is slow going. And, I don't have prints of anything from the past year, so I guess I need to - um, order some? (Actually, answer me this: Do people even ORDER prints anymore, or do we all just look at them online, or on our respective digital devices?)

• Planning for my big 4-0, which is fast approaching. Finances have prevented me from heading to Cancun or Cozumel, so it'll be a party in the A-Tex for me. I really hope we can swing a big, fun one, at the very least.

• Plotting for my iPhone. Oh, I don't have it yet, but I will. Someday, I will. And then...and ONLY then...will I be complete.

Because You Need to Watch This Again

He'll kick you apart.

Part of My World

Tomorrow is, also, the stage debut of the YG. She is playing Ariel at "Little Mermaid Camp" for teeny chillun. I am super-proud of her, and she is very excited to get to show her little prima-donna self to the world.

(And, though I am very happy for her, I did have to roll my eyes a bit when she got the part. Before class the first day, she was all "I want to play Ariel!" and I'm all "Well, sweetie, ALL the little girls want to play Ariel, you may not get it, they may want someone else or an older girl," yadda yadda yadda. You know, the steeling of your child for the harsh realities of the world, that thing we do. Then, that day, after camp, I picked her up, and she waltzes out and shouts "I got Ariel!" Like, there was no question in her mind, why the hell was there any in yours?

In any case, tonight, I pulled out the video camera to make sure it was charged up for the big play. I realized that the hard drive on it is pretty much full, and I needed to transfer some of it off to DVD so that I could be sure to have enough time left to film the play tomorrow. (Oh, sure, you people with all your technical knowledge can digitize all your movies. I'm not TOTALLY there yet. I could be, but I haven't had time to learn. So, at the moment, I'm just rerecording them via my DVD recorder.)

So, for the past hour, I've been watching a lot of old movies from the past three years, and melting a little bit with every passing second due to the images of my children being so young. Absolutely CRUSHING, I tell you.

Anyway, the beginning portion of the tape has a lot of the YG as a two- to three-year-old child. And - I exaggerate NOT EVEN SLIGHTLY - about HALF of the footage of her involves her either singing the Ariel song, or playing with her Ariel dolls, or making up songs ABOUT Ariel.

Eh; I think she's right. I'll step out of her limelight. She was born to do it.

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Oh, dudes, the OG gets back from camp tomorrow. I'm so ready to see her, I just cannot tell you. I was so excited that I pre-bought tickets to see Harry Potter at the Alamo Drafthouse tomorrow. They're serving butterbeer and pumpkin pasties! We are SO geeking out. Can. Not. Wait.

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Speaking of geeking out, The Man and I are getting into Battlestar Galactica. We watched the mini-series, and are now about eight episodes into the first season. It's some good sci-fi, man. And it is TOTALLY the way to go to watch it on DVD. It really helps to watch them in rapid succession.

I am, however, a little alarmed at how hot he is for that damn Cylon.

Status:

Sunday evening.

Pondering a semi-large work-related decision. (Not changing jobs, just possibly worksites.) There are pros and cons, as is the way of such things. To change would involve working closer to home and potentially saving money on after-school care; to stay would include me keeping my SWEET office with a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that I've occupied for the past year.

Going to work this week, but should not be too stressful. Summer work is calmer. Not as much breathing down of the neck. Thinking about using the money I earn to get an iPhone.

No wine tonight - dieting again, GD it all - but a quiet house is nearly as intoxicating. The OG has gone to Girl Scout camp again, and the YG has uncharacteristically agreed to bedtime this evening without a fight. It's only The Man and I, and we are slumped into a silent stupor on the sofa.

(Oh, and on the subject of the OG: How, WHY is it that she can drive me bat guano crazy for days on end during the summer, but when she leaves for camp, I miss her HORRIBLY and cannot WAIT for her to come back? Sadly, I'm sure what's going to happen is that I'll be so completely excited to see her on Friday when she gets back, and then we'll be in a fight in like the first five minutes.

Just got through with the first four episodes of Battlestar Galactica from Netflix. I am enjoying it so far, I must say. It's Star Trek mixed with Lost, with a bit of a Joss Whedon sensibility to it. (Reminiscent of Firefly, of course, but without quite as much whacked-out syntax.) I am highly amused at the phones with cords, and the dot-matrix printers, and the odd hexagonal shapes of all their paper. In any case, I'm still interested, and that's saying something these days.

Saw The Hangover last night on a real date night with The Man. It was very funny. Zach Galifinakis is one of the awesomest comedians on the planet. I need to sit down and watch all of his specials, like, right now. And, I dearly love Ed Helms, and am glad to see he can handle a big leading role in a movie. Afterwards we went to this place, which is a fairly new and happenin' little place Karla May showed us to downtown that specializes in "old cocktails," like Harvey Wallbangers and the like. (I like the "Bees Knees," which involves Tanqueray, lemon juice, and honey.)

And...oh, yes, I am MELTING. Because it is ONE HUNDRED AND EFFING SIX DEGREES out there every day this week. (I like the heat, man, but this is kinda sick. It's like living in a kiln.)

Do you wanna watch my vacation slides?

Another one from Silver Dollar City:

This coffin has been there since I was a kid. It's right outside of "Grandfather's Mansion," an old-school tilty house. (As a side note, I can apparently no longer go into a tilty house. Perhaps the Meniere's Disease has taken its toll on my central nervous system, but I was sick for HOURS afterwards.)

You know, as far as amusement parks go, SDC is one of the best. Though it has most of the ride conventions of your generic Six Flags - e.g. roller coasters, water rides, "kiddie areas," et al. - it also has actual hills and trees, and some semblance of Ozark-y culture, such as the peanut brittle making pictured in the last post. (Oh, and BY FAR the best amusement park food you will EVER have. Like, real pies, and big huge wok pans filled with sweet potatoes and sausage, or fresh green beans, corn, and grilled chicken.

And the rides - especially the new ones - are, in fact, pretty high quality. The old ones touch my nostalgic heart, but they're pretty cheesy animatronic stuff, truth be told. However, the OG and I were absolutely terrified - and I am not one to be easily swayed by rides, mind you - by one of the new rides, which is nothing more than a ginormous barn swing. THAT GOES ONE HUNDRED FEET IN THE AIR and OH MY GOD do not EVER look straight down at the ground from that height as you are hurtling towards it.

Anyways, though you may have an impression of Branson as the Fat White Redneck Vegas - and you would not be entirely wrong - there are many reasons to stop in. I highly recommend spending a day at Silver Dollar City, eating at a little old diner in town (as opposed to "on the strip,") and going to this particular waterslide, which has been in business 34 years. Strange; I actually remember the year that it opened.

Once again, kickin' it la escuela vieja. Cut into the side of the hill, and you slide down on mats. Again, hasn't changed one iota, but it's still pretty damn fun, and you don't get waterslide wedgies.

There's The Man, looking hunkalicious at the end of the slide. I must have misplaced the photo of me in my bathing suit.

After SDC, we went back to Fayetteville, where The Man covered a track meet, and I went with the girls and Trish and her boys to another of the kick-a sculpture parks.

I swear, I TRY to get her to pose normal.

After Fayetteville, we drove to Kansas City. Here's a shot from the SECOND amusement park of the trip, Worlds of Fun:

...and a snap of tiny baby Sara, the newest addition to the kid cadre of my closest friends:

Connie and Brian and The Man and I took an overnight trip to Columbia, MO, home of our alma mater. Here's Connie in the bizarro (but nice) northwestern-themed hotel we stayed at:

This is the front of the house Connie and I lived in in 1990:

Does it look nice? Well, it was abjectly NOT; it was disgusting. The carpet was so horrifically, monumentally filthy (deep down filthy, not not-vacuumed filthy) that if you spilled water on it and tried to dry it up, the towel would turn BROWN. And there was a basement of epic freaky proportions; it had tiny, dark, unlit portions behind doors that locked from the INSIDE. And I'm not even going into the wolf spiders.

Aaah, but I loved it. I miss college.

After seeing many awesome old friends - Trish, Erin, Connie, Anita, and even Tom and Sue Savage - and my mother and sister and extended family for a week, we headed back to Austin, and shortly thereafter took our now-annual trip to Port Aransas.

See? I didn't JUST drink, I did occasionally make contact with my children. With a drink.

This is my Big Head picture (for Karla) on the dolphin cruise out into the Gulf:

Because one should always wear a tiara; even while swimming:

Or just walking around the house:

A'ight? We square? We caught up now?

Hey! Hi! I have a blog!

Oh, god, I HATE dieting.

HATE IT HATE IT HATE IT.

Oh, for the days when I could just give up beer and desserts for three weeks and lose twenty pounds.

And, for that body I used to have - you know, that body I used to have when I thought I was fat? That body? I feel as though I would literally kill for it. (Well, maybe not a person, but...um, at least a goldfish. An old goldfish. That was depressed.)

Hey, everyone, I'm back. Re-blogging commenced. Sorry I'm depressed and fat.

It's been a busy summer so far. The Reader's Digest version: Right after school got out, we drove to Fayetteville, AR, for a lovely visit with Trish and Mike, and their two beautiful boys.

Here's the YG and the OG in a pretty Fayetteville park with a super-cool outside sculpture/playscape fixture:

We swung in to swingin' Branson, Missouri for a two-night stay at a hotel with! A waterpark! Right in the hotel! (And, we went to Silver Dollar City, wherein my children were finally met with the penance promised them after the twelve-hour car ride:)

Oh, sure, you laugh at us, in Branson, with you all off on your Paris or London jaunts. But did YOU get hand-made peanut brittle?

I didn't think so.

Tomorrow: Kansas City! And Port Aransas!

Glad to be back, everyone. I've missed this. Forgotten how therapeutic it is. I'd actually go on more this evening, but we're FINALLY FINALLY getting to watch Battlestar Galactica from Netflix, (starting with the mini-series; I've missed it all) and if I don't watch it now, my window is closed.

Must go get my geek on now...

Summer Hiatus

Not so's you'd notice - given my recent not-postingness - but I'm on a two- to three-week summer blogging hiatus whilst I deal with summer issues.

However, my summer resolution is to actually begin writing again, so look for me back at the end of June and beginning of July.

(Come to think of it, though, that'll be the part of my summer when actually NOTHING will be happening of earth-shattering interest to write ABOUT, so please look forward to a lot of "We went to the pool today. And, um, got a Jim-Jim's Water Ice.")

FRAK

My work is KILLLLING ME. This is the year that WILL NOT END.

Seriously, dudes, I have never worked from home, this much, EVER. We're talking nights and weekends, and through lunch. My wrists ACHE and my thumb is about to FALL the fuck off from typing so much.

And there is SO much pressure this year. Do you know - DO YOU KNOW - that this week, I will be in meetings, literally ALL day long on some days? And that someone is pissed in nearly EVERY single one of them?

Do you know that I had tears in my eyes at three different points in the day, at my workplace, yesterday? And that I thought, very seriously, about sneaking out the window of my office and just driving away, far away, where nobody could find me to bitch at me?

Ah, yes. I see it all clearly now. This is why our parents' generation took those little yellow pills!

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Oh, by the way, wine country was awwwwsome. Forgot my g.d. camera, though.

However, this was possibly a blessing, especially on Night One when we arrived, and John the Rogue Wine Pourer from White Oak Vineyard got me (and everybody else) EFFED UP beyond recognition.

It was seriously kind of sad, because the next day, when we were going on our actual wine bus tour, half of us - including Ms. Noxious, the birthday girl - were too hung over to have nearly as much fun as we should have. (I, however, had like Hobbit-style three breakfasts at our B&B, so I was pretty much fine.)

I really can't look at wine again yet, though.

NAPA, fools!

Oh, hellz yes, we are headed out for a SPANKIN good time, thanks to a free credit card miles ticket and a golden opportunity to head out to Ms. Noxious's 40th birthday celebration.

Good idea? Not in the slightest. Even on the cheap, it's not gonna be free, and we're broke as all get out. And, in six years on this job, I have never, ever, EVER been this busy.

But there it is. Plane ticket is in my hand. And I believe I have some things to drink about.

The Merry Merry Month of May

Hey, spring!

Fuck yeah! Except!

The slow morph of cool mornings (haw!) into warm (haw haw! Heat index of 102 tomorrow, bitches!) represents the most horrendous time of the year for me, work-wise. I'll attempt to blog here and there, but the next four weeks are going to completely murder me.

I know, I know, it's the breaks for having a job that allows me to take summers off. I'll take it; the reward is worth it. But this month never gets any easier. Sometimes - and this is between you and me, I swear, I'll kill you if you repeat this - I miss teaching...BUT, ONLY because, this time of year, with TAKS over and the kiddos pretty much in free-fall, THEY get to kind of chill and slack a bit. I, on the other hand, work on deadlines...and, my deadline coincides, pretty much, with the end of the school year. And eff me if they don't want everything done, right now, with a tidy bow on it.

Two large manila folders sit beside me, on my cool new aqua couch. I worked on the assignments contained therein last night, and I worked on them until 5:00 today. However, they are still not done, because of the constantly replenishing supply of meetings. And, they were due, um, yesterday, and today.

Am I working on them? Um...well, clearly, no. No, I'm not. I'm too fried. I can't even open them.

Please, somebody, reassure me that deadlines don't mean that someone is actually going to DIE if they don't see my hyperintelligent prose on a piece of paper tomorrow.

Because I'm gonna watch Jon Stewart now. I'm GOING TO WATCH JON STEWART, do you hear me, stupid fat manila folders?

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Hey, though, wanna see the spring pictures?

Cute, huh? Sears! And I didn't even kill them too much this time!

Gulp...look at that little one. Not quite so little anymore. In fact, tomorrow is...wait for it...KINDERGARTEN ROUNDUP. I am extremely thrilled - as she is also - but am so frakkin' sad, too. I will miss my chirpy li'l preschool cherub.

*sniff*

Scenes From My Children

Scenario one: Easter Sunday

OG (gesturing furtively towards The Man): "Daddy, I need to ask you a question."

TM: "What is it, honey?"

OG: "Is fuck a dirty word?"

TM: "Well, honey, it is a bad word and -"

OG (interrupting, panicked): "OH, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't know! I'm sorry!"

TM: "I'm not mad at you, honey. Relax."

OG: "Oh, um, OK. Um...what does it mean?

TM: "Well, it's - "

OG: "NO, no, don't tell me, I don't want to know!"

TM: "Um, then -"

OG: "No, wait, tell me."

TM: "Well, it's another word for having sex with someone."

OG: "Oh. OK. Thanks." (Runs away.)
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Scenario two: This evening

YG (standing in the hallway, after being reprimanded slightly for spilling a bunch of water that I specifically told her not to spill, and redirected instead to brush her teeth):

"This is a BAD DAY. I didn't even have anyone nice at school today. And now you're not nice to me. This is a STUPID day. I HATE this day. I want this day to be OVER. This is the WORST day of my life. Why is this day SO BAD?"

Me: "Some days are like that. Um...would you like to finish your Gatorade before you brush your teeth?"

YG (brightly): "OK!"
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Scenario three: Composing Thank-You Notes:

YG (at my prompting to dictate her response):

"Dear Anna. Thank you for the lovely Barbie doll. You are so loving. You made the party a big fairy. That means you are a blast of a friend. Thank you for your lovingness and your good friendness. And I will go to your party and I will bring magic fairy dust to bring out all the love in the land. And the kindness. So, thank you very much. And have a a nice day."

OG (sitting next to us on the couch, slapping her hands over her ears): "AAAAAHH! PLEASE SAVE ME!"

Where I've Been Lately: A Photo Essay

1. The YG is FIVE! Hurray, and ZOMG, when did that happen?

In honor of what is - potentially - the last year of when she'll be, as Karla May put it so succinctly,
"the girliest girl in Girltown," we sprung for a Tinkerbell party at the studio that she takes dance at. (Specifically, it was a "Tinkerbell and the Sparkle Fairies Ballet and High Tea Party.")

She had a fantastic time. I was sad we had to limit the attendance, to tell you the truth, because I honestly think she could have had 20 girls there dancing with her, and she would have been in complete bliss.



2. The aftermath of the party (and, let's face it, far too many years of spoiling).


The YG has now, no fewer than TWENTY-SEVEN Barbie dolls or Barbie-doll impersonators. And, according to her, she loves ALL of them more than ANYTHING in the world, and there is no POSSIBLE way we can winnow any of them down.

3. I got to babysit Simon!

Man, I forgot how much work they are when they are young and unformed. With the bottles, and the diapers, and the burping, and all that? I will opine that there are some distinct advantages to having older children.

HOWEVER, he is undeniably one cute customer.



He was WAY less fussy when Eric came to get him. Figures.

4. Girl Scout Camp! Yes, again!


.

Yes, I grow weary of it. But, she loves, loves, LOVES it. So, there it is. And, the YG is not far behind, after she starts school this fall. Thus, I grudgingly accept my fate, for the time being

5. Work! I don't have pictures of my work! Because it's suckish and frighteningly busy right now! So there is no time for pictures! Everything is due, and I'm running late on EVERYTHING, and nobody can help me, because they're all in the same boat! And that boat? That boat is taking on water! Quickly!

6. Heading out to the Malcontent Mama's swank trailer in the woods for a real-live Hill Country party yesterday:

Now, is that some Texas right there, I ask you?

The girls had a high old time, running around the creekbed, picking up cool rocks (and bones,) and playing with a variety of well-behaved and appropriately filthy children. The Man and I enjoyed some good conversation, and quite a bit of good beer.

How good a time? Well, I must ask those of you that know me well - how do I, typically, feel about unpaved roads? Like, I'd rather die than take one, right? But, I tell ya, I'm coming around. I - yes, I - was the one doing the encouragement to The Man to come out there! And, I'm planning yet ANOTHER camping trip to our annual swing dance, coming up soon!

I've changed, folks; look at me! I am SO much better able to handle hardships - like, say, being more than five minutes away from an art house movie theater - than I used to be!

Oh, and there were cascarones, too:


My children have never known an Easter without confetti-related egg violence. Texans through and through. (Do other people do these, now?)

Hey, speaking of the jaunt out west, I'm going to put a serious plug in for Opie's Barbecue in Spicewood. I daresay they are putting Cooper's to the test. Have the spicy barbecued ribs and the Tater Tot Casserole. Word.

-----------------------------------
There's more, but I'm crashing hard. Couldn't be the sugar, or the incredible effort that was expended today while cooking the delicious pork roast with adobo and Sazon or the Tres Leches Coconut Cupcakes with Dulce De Leche Buttercream frosting.

Hope your day went well. I'm out.

Great Moments in Parenting

Let me be clear: I HATE the TAKS test.

To be a teacher in Texas is to have to live with the TAKS test, a.k.a. the Sword of Damocles, hanging over your head, once a year. And, when one is a teacher in a poor school in Texas - which I was, for seven years - you are reminded of it, every day, all year long.

Because, of course, in Texas, we believe in the high-stakes testing. The good folks of this state have put their faith in the (*cough* Republican) leaders of our state educational system, and these esteemed ladies and gentleman have assured us that pegging our kiddos' school performance on these measures is OK.

Why? Surely, performance on these measures must provide a good prediction of success in college. What, no? Then, clearly they must be good measures of academic proficiency, then? Yes, OK, that is true, to some degree. However, they also measure several unintended variables: first, it measures one's ability to take multiple-choice tests, or to "game" the system (e.g. to weed out the two stupid answers, to look at the two possible answers, and then to figure out which one of those is the "trick."). The other, secondary skill that it measures is attention, or stamina. Some kiddos, no matter how much they want to do so, just don't sit, and sustain attention, in this dry, silent, LONG, testing session that is the typical format of TAKS.

Now, I KNOW all this. I also know a lot about testing, about criterion vs. standardized testing, about predictive value, and about what Republican assfaces the State Board of Education are. I would never, NEVER, emphasize TAKS as a reason to make - oh, any decisions whatsoever, PARTICULARLY not making it the sole criteria regarding retention in the third or fifth grade. It's stupid to do so, and that's all there is to it.

With background established, the OG took her very first reading TAKS this year, that extremely important third grade year. You know, the OG? The one that was reading chapter books when she was four? The one that topped their reading assessments when she was in the first grade? And, yes, the one that is also extremely hyperactive, and duly medicated as such?

Well, of course, she did pass the damn thing. She only missed four, which is just fine. But, here's the thing: If she'd missed three, she'd have made "commended performance." And...god damn it, out of 78 kids in her grade, she is one of only 13 kids that DID NOT get "commended performance."

So, do you think - given my extensive knowledge of this subject, and personal experience with extremely smart kiddos that were just too spazzy to sit and take this test with anything like full committment - that I would:

a) blow it off, because this is a silly, artificial construct, designed to do nothing more than make parents feel better than other parents, and I know that she's hyper and a ferociously good reader ANYWAY, or:

b) berate her for not trying harder, and make my already anxiety-ridden daughter feel worse about herself after all of her friends have pranced up to her, saying, "I got a 100!" "I got a 100 too!"

You would think I would have naturally gone to the first option, wouldn't you?

Sadly, no. No, I didn't.

The good news is that I didn't actually end up DOING it. I wisely called The Man and Christie, my former reading teacher friend, who both emphatically insisted that I step away from this ledge and swallow all of my bilious ravings before I drive my child (more) insane.

So, I let it go with a couple of questions about what went wrong, if we could do anything to improve her focus next time, that sort of thing. We had a little attitude adjustment session about her already fatalistic attitude towards math, our Next Big Test at the end of the month. And I let. it. go.

Next morning, I run into her teacher at school. First thing out of her mouth: "I can't BELIEVE that the OG didn't get commended performance!"

Gaaaahhhhhh.

SXSW Recap

The Best:

• The Decemberists and Gomez at the free show at Pangaea. Fantastic. Worth every bit of the two hours in line to get the pass, and the hour and a half in line to get in. Free ticket, free open bar, GREAT sound and a classy joint to boot, and some of the best music, bar none, that I've ever heard at a South By show. Thanks to Bookhart for being my date!
• Over the Hills and Far Away - the doc on autism that I was raving about down an entry.
• The Chris Gaffney tribute at Continental Club on Thursday night (with Dave Alvin, Ponty Bone, Cindy Cashdollar, Lisa Pankratz, etc.) I'd heard of most of these people, but had no idea how incredible this show would be. Super tight and rocking fabulous.
• The Mighty Stef at Mojo's Mayhem at the Continental Club on Saturday morning. Cyuuute Irish lads with a taste for Americana. Good enough for me to buy a CD, which I NEVER do.
• The Bloody Marys at Mojo's Mayhem at the Continental Club on Saturday morning. Mmmm. They make me feel positively healthy, I tell you.
• Free sushi at Kenichi at the Shurman party. Again, with the mmmm. They make this one thing? That's like a sushi nacho? I think, tuna with a wasabi sauce on a fried wonton chip? Fraaaack. Great band, too. West Texas meets Son Volt.
• The weather. Warm, sunny, awesome, sexy, Austin springtime weather. Men in their western shirts with the sleeves cut off, girls in sundresses and cowboy boots.
• Having my mother in town for a week to watch the girls. Score!!!
• Best Worst Movie at the Paramount. It's about the, supposed, worst movie ever made, Troll 2, and the Rocky Horror-like cult following it has developed. Just delightful.
• Vast vats of cheap, or free, beer. Everywhere. For no damn good reason.
• Pizza from Home Slice.
  
• Hanging out with several awesome friends, including some I don't get to see often enough. Nice to hang with not only Bookhart, but also Milena.
  

The worst:

• Attempting to go to the Dog and Duck for St. Patrick's Day. HORRIFIC crowds, endless lines, hot as shit, twenty minutes in line for a beer. Yeah, no. Won't do that again.
• The absolute shit service we got at Sagra, the newish Italian restaurant around the corner from the Dog and Duck, wherein the lovely Bookhart and I were roundly ignored (!) to the point that both she and I - she being the most genteel person that I know, BTW - agreed that we actually had to get up and WALK OUT. (History: I NEVER do that.) My parting shot? "This? Is JUST NOT WORKING OUT." Hmph! I am so boss sometimes! However, happy ending in the way of the Clay Pit, spicy Tikka Masala, and cherry-pistachio naan, served with a cold beer by a flirty and attentive waiter who loved us. So, kiss my butt, Sagra.
  
• Missing way too many movies. Didn't see Humpday, Winnebago Man, The Way We Get By, I Love You Man, Observe and Report, Trimpin, Objectified, or the actual Troll 2. I hear I screwed up totally by not seeing these.
• The nearly all-day hangover I had on Friday.
  
• Missing not only Mick, but also St. Murse, completely, during the whole GD week. Mick was ill; the Murse was a buzzing bee of activity.
• Almost completely ignoring the mountain of work that I brought home to do. (Oh, wait, that was actually awesome, the incredible suckage of today not withstanding. Fuck, who works on vacation, anyway?)
• Where my money was? Is empty now.
• Haven't gotten on the scale yet.