The Child. Can crawl. Mostly, it's still the zombie flop, but she crawled yesterday. Twice. She also tried climbing the bookshelf and fell sideways on her head. One of the funniest things I've seen all week. She fell over, paused, went, "EH! EH! WAAH!" and then zombie flopped over to something shiny.
This crawling is something of a problem. She often wedges herself into corner of her crib, but if I give her a couple minutes, she'll fall back asleep. This morning at 6:30, she started screaming. This is normal. She usually stops in about five seconds. Today she didn't stop. So I went in there to find her on all fours, face pressed against the foot of her crib, unable to back up or roll over without smacking her head on something.
I moved her, and she fell asleep right away, but woke up again five minutes later. And proceeded to go in and out of sleep every 15 until just after 8:00. It was so much fun. Also, her sleep-deprived grouchiness was a real trip all morning. We had such a blast, screaming, crying, clawing my face.
Short of velcroing her flat on her back, I don't really know what to do about it. Do babies eventually learn not to sleep crawl? Please tell me they do.
It's June bug season (June bugs always come in May; why are they called "June bugs"?). Every night, they buzz the window screens behind the couch. I feel them crawling on my neck, crunching under my shoes. There's a dead one in our mailbox, and I can't get it out because I'm a nancy. So it just sits there, taunting me, every time I get the mail. The first time I ever cheered a spider was the other day, when I saw a giant June bug dangling in a web. I may have done a gleeful fist-pump or seven.
On Wednesday I spent all day weeding the raspberry patch. It was completely choked with dandelions and some kind of viny violet-type plant. And bumblebees and, in my head, hordes of spiders. It was five hours of adrenaline surges, with me dancing across the yard, batting at my body and yelping every ten minutes. If the neighbors didn't think I was crazy after this incident, they certainly do now.
So, I spent five hours stooped over and pulling weeds, and by the end of the day I could hardly walk. Every muscle on the backside of my body, from top to bottom, was soup. Thursday was even worse; muscles were not just weak and shaky, but also very, very angry. Friday was a little better. But the aches weren't gone until Monday. I tend to get overzealous when I start a project. I couldn't have just weeded an hour every day for five days. No, it had to be every free minute of an entire afternoon. The same thing happens with housework.
I found only one spider in all that time. But it was a pretty horrible spider. It was hiding down near the ground, in the base of a dandelion plant that I'd ripped up. I didn't see much, just a shiny bumblebee-like body, but that was enough. The thing was enormous, for around here. The body was the size of a large marble. I think it was a garden spider.
I had a big stick. For a minute, I screamed and jumped and pounded my stick into the ground. Like an excited cavewoman. This, I think, is why the neighbors don't bring pie.
I'm starving, and all this talk of bugs and spiders has me a little leery of the couch I'm sitting on. So I should get off it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Spiderrific!
There are worse things in this life than a really bad diaper rash, but to a baby that's about as bad as it gets. And she'll let you know aaaall about it. And then when you're letting her air out on the living room floor for the day, she will vehemently express her displeasure in ways that make you very glad you put that blanket down underneath her.
That's all I'll say about that.
I felt so bad for her the last three days. It seems she got a little dehydrated Monday. I have no idea how. It wasn't hot, and she never goes hungry or thirsty. Maybe a little bug?
Anyway, that started a really fun chain of events for us both. The last two days I've been feeding her every two hours and have done away with solid foods for now. I think she's back to normal, if still a little rashy. She is now terrified of diaper changes.
This evening when I fed her at 7, she fell fast asleep in my arms for the first time in weeks. I spent fifteen minutes in frozen silence, staring at her, not wanting to wake her up. She jolted awake on her own, though. She's hilarious when she does this. She looks around the room in terror, the way you might if you woke up one night on the floor of a pub full of hungry redneck vampires.
CFF brought by more Buffy and Angel when she came the other day. I'm already on season six of Buffy. It's a sickness, I tell you.
The thing is, TV is really nice with a baby, especially when the baby is not feeling well, and you can turn on the subtitles. My brain may be rotting, but that's okay; once it rots enough, I'll barely even feel it anymore.
Since the weather's gotten warmer, the spiders have been gallivanting about this place like they own it. I got news for them. People live here now. People with fly swatters and piercing wails. And flesh-eating cleaning chemicals. Did I mention piercing wails? That's the one James is most fond of.
So, spiders everywhere. And now I'm seeing them even when they're not there. I hope it's not the beginning of a rapidly-spiraling descent into madness culminating in my attempted cleansing of the baby by flinging her on the lawn and hosing her down with the garden hose. I'm not even sure we own a garden hose, and if we do, it's probably been sitting in our shed (only slightly less terrifying than the Pit of Despair) for the last two years, collecting hairy wolf spiders that make Rubeus Hagrid look like a bald little baby.
Also, centipedes. I've seen two now. One was in my laundry. I almost burned the lot of it, right there on the bathroom floor.
The Child has been thisclose to crawling for about a month. She gets up on all fours and rocks. She even does this funky zombie-crawl: on all fours, she plants both hands way out in front of her and drags her lower body forward until she has too much weight out front, then flops on her face, then gets on all fours again and repeats the process (all with a pacifier in hand or mouth, which she never sucks on anymore but chews like it's a big old ball of tobacco).
She does a lot of face planting these days. The good news is that she hardly even blinks an eye anymore if she bops her head on something. The bad news is that she keeps getting carpet burn on her forehead. It looks like we bathe her with sandpaper and acid, but we don't, I swear! In fact, we use ridiculously overpriced Burt's Bees stuff because the smell is so intoxicating, they must grind up a unicorn and mix it in with every batch.
Also, she has all these toys, right? And I pile them in the middle of the floor. But what does she gravitate toward? The coffee table with poky metal feet and my dirty shoes that I never wear with socks and stink to high heaven.
Because of the pacifier obsession, I ordered one of these. $8.00 seems a little high, but this pacifier clip actually stays on without endangering small digits and/or lips, it works with any pacifier (even the Soothie or other smallish toys), and it's handmade and so cute. Hopefully there will be more in stock soon.
That's all I'll say about that.
I felt so bad for her the last three days. It seems she got a little dehydrated Monday. I have no idea how. It wasn't hot, and she never goes hungry or thirsty. Maybe a little bug?
Anyway, that started a really fun chain of events for us both. The last two days I've been feeding her every two hours and have done away with solid foods for now. I think she's back to normal, if still a little rashy. She is now terrified of diaper changes.
This evening when I fed her at 7, she fell fast asleep in my arms for the first time in weeks. I spent fifteen minutes in frozen silence, staring at her, not wanting to wake her up. She jolted awake on her own, though. She's hilarious when she does this. She looks around the room in terror, the way you might if you woke up one night on the floor of a pub full of hungry redneck vampires.
CFF brought by more Buffy and Angel when she came the other day. I'm already on season six of Buffy. It's a sickness, I tell you.
The thing is, TV is really nice with a baby, especially when the baby is not feeling well, and you can turn on the subtitles. My brain may be rotting, but that's okay; once it rots enough, I'll barely even feel it anymore.
Since the weather's gotten warmer, the spiders have been gallivanting about this place like they own it. I got news for them. People live here now. People with fly swatters and piercing wails. And flesh-eating cleaning chemicals. Did I mention piercing wails? That's the one James is most fond of.
So, spiders everywhere. And now I'm seeing them even when they're not there. I hope it's not the beginning of a rapidly-spiraling descent into madness culminating in my attempted cleansing of the baby by flinging her on the lawn and hosing her down with the garden hose. I'm not even sure we own a garden hose, and if we do, it's probably been sitting in our shed (only slightly less terrifying than the Pit of Despair) for the last two years, collecting hairy wolf spiders that make Rubeus Hagrid look like a bald little baby.
Also, centipedes. I've seen two now. One was in my laundry. I almost burned the lot of it, right there on the bathroom floor.
The Child has been thisclose to crawling for about a month. She gets up on all fours and rocks. She even does this funky zombie-crawl: on all fours, she plants both hands way out in front of her and drags her lower body forward until she has too much weight out front, then flops on her face, then gets on all fours again and repeats the process (all with a pacifier in hand or mouth, which she never sucks on anymore but chews like it's a big old ball of tobacco).
She does a lot of face planting these days. The good news is that she hardly even blinks an eye anymore if she bops her head on something. The bad news is that she keeps getting carpet burn on her forehead. It looks like we bathe her with sandpaper and acid, but we don't, I swear! In fact, we use ridiculously overpriced Burt's Bees stuff because the smell is so intoxicating, they must grind up a unicorn and mix it in with every batch.
Also, she has all these toys, right? And I pile them in the middle of the floor. But what does she gravitate toward? The coffee table with poky metal feet and my dirty shoes that I never wear with socks and stink to high heaven.
Because of the pacifier obsession, I ordered one of these. $8.00 seems a little high, but this pacifier clip actually stays on without endangering small digits and/or lips, it works with any pacifier (even the Soothie or other smallish toys), and it's handmade and so cute. Hopefully there will be more in stock soon.
Friday, May 15, 2009
And the rest of LOST
I wrote a whole post on the first 17 minutes of the finale. It's the one before this. I am a sad, sad person.
I find it very hard to believe that Horace doesn't have a SINGLE hat in his house. For serious, guys? Did you think no one would recognize you? A hat is not that hard. Unless it's a hard hat. Hahahah! Jack, you're a doctor. Sayid, you're Batman and GI Joe and The Shadow all in one. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THIS.
Dude! Vincent!
Also, I like how the sky was completely overcast when they were half a mile from shore, and then when they got there it was blue skies and fluffy clouds all over. Not impossible, but still kind of weird.
And Rose and Bernard! Love Bernard's creepy facial hair. Is it just me, or did Rose sound disappointed when she said, "They found us." Also, how did Bernard manage to put on weight while living in the jungle off fruits and nuts?
Okay, nevermind. BUT! If Jin was searching grid by grid, how did he miss a big old cabin in the middle of a clearing? Is Bernard Harry Potter? Does he have a gigantic invisibility cloak?
Ilana means "tree". I doubt that's important. I was just excited because it's Hebrew.
Jacob's cabin looks like Rose and Bernard's, but I doubt that means anything either. I'm guessing that there's not a huge variety of basic cabin-in-the-jungle-built-with-your-own-two-hands-templates-out-there. Maybe they show just didn't want to make more than one set piece.
Was John Locke raised from the dead after he fell out of the building?
Why is everybody all so happy to do everything Locke says? He's just a random stranger.
That ain't Locke. It's Johnny Cash/Esau/Ol' Smokey. One of those three. All of those three. Some combination.
I can't decide who I hate more: Jack or Kate.
How hard is it to say, "Sayid is bleeding to death in there. He will die if I take five minutes"? Instead, Jack says, "Five minutes," and imagine Sayid's in there like, "Remind me never to come to your ER EVER. Oh wait. I don't have to worry about that because I'm about to bleed to death."
Surgery: Ew. I didn't need to see that. I have a thing about spines and poking around in them.
All right, Jack. This is spinal surgery. You aren't out teaching a bunch of kids to fish, and your pole slipped. Your feelings do not matter very much right now. I bet that girl would have been really happy to know that even though she was paralyzed for life, your feelings were intact and you team believed in you.
How did Roger know about the bomb?
Hurley's hilarious.
To guard: Dudes with tranquilizer darts! Everywhere! Coming to get me!
To random guy in cab he's never seen and is carrying a guitar case that could be hiding anything: Sure! I'll share a cab with you! Awesome!
Okay, this has been bugging me for some time. If Jack drops the bomb down the hole, and the magnet gets destroyed in 1979, they never land on the Island. And so Jack never goes back in time to 1979 to drop the bomb down the hole. This whole thing CAN'T HAPPEN. These people are idiots.
Why couldn't they kill Kate? Why why why?
I CALLED IT ON LOCKE BEING REALLY DEAD! I am awesome!
If I weren't so thrilled over being right about something on this show, I would really pissed off right now. I LOVE Locke. I love him so much. And now he is dead.
Oh, Juliet. What a crappy way to die.
I'm less convinced that Jacob is evil, but still not sure he's Jesus Christ either. I do think he was purposely cold to Ben so that he WOULD kill him. I think that's part of his plan. Which makes more signs point to "Christ figure". But still. Not convinced.
Also, it takes a ridiculously hot fire to actually burn a human being up.
I find it very hard to believe that Horace doesn't have a SINGLE hat in his house. For serious, guys? Did you think no one would recognize you? A hat is not that hard. Unless it's a hard hat. Hahahah! Jack, you're a doctor. Sayid, you're Batman and GI Joe and The Shadow all in one. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THIS.
Dude! Vincent!
Also, I like how the sky was completely overcast when they were half a mile from shore, and then when they got there it was blue skies and fluffy clouds all over. Not impossible, but still kind of weird.
And Rose and Bernard! Love Bernard's creepy facial hair. Is it just me, or did Rose sound disappointed when she said, "They found us." Also, how did Bernard manage to put on weight while living in the jungle off fruits and nuts?
Okay, nevermind. BUT! If Jin was searching grid by grid, how did he miss a big old cabin in the middle of a clearing? Is Bernard Harry Potter? Does he have a gigantic invisibility cloak?
Ilana means "tree". I doubt that's important. I was just excited because it's Hebrew.
Jacob's cabin looks like Rose and Bernard's, but I doubt that means anything either. I'm guessing that there's not a huge variety of basic cabin-in-the-jungle-built-with-your-own-two-hands-templates-out-there. Maybe they show just didn't want to make more than one set piece.
Was John Locke raised from the dead after he fell out of the building?
Why is everybody all so happy to do everything Locke says? He's just a random stranger.
That ain't Locke. It's Johnny Cash/Esau/Ol' Smokey. One of those three. All of those three. Some combination.
I can't decide who I hate more: Jack or Kate.
How hard is it to say, "Sayid is bleeding to death in there. He will die if I take five minutes"? Instead, Jack says, "Five minutes," and imagine Sayid's in there like, "Remind me never to come to your ER EVER. Oh wait. I don't have to worry about that because I'm about to bleed to death."
Surgery: Ew. I didn't need to see that. I have a thing about spines and poking around in them.
All right, Jack. This is spinal surgery. You aren't out teaching a bunch of kids to fish, and your pole slipped. Your feelings do not matter very much right now. I bet that girl would have been really happy to know that even though she was paralyzed for life, your feelings were intact and you team believed in you.
How did Roger know about the bomb?
Hurley's hilarious.
To guard: Dudes with tranquilizer darts! Everywhere! Coming to get me!
To random guy in cab he's never seen and is carrying a guitar case that could be hiding anything: Sure! I'll share a cab with you! Awesome!
Okay, this has been bugging me for some time. If Jack drops the bomb down the hole, and the magnet gets destroyed in 1979, they never land on the Island. And so Jack never goes back in time to 1979 to drop the bomb down the hole. This whole thing CAN'T HAPPEN. These people are idiots.
Why couldn't they kill Kate? Why why why?
I CALLED IT ON LOCKE BEING REALLY DEAD! I am awesome!
If I weren't so thrilled over being right about something on this show, I would really pissed off right now. I LOVE Locke. I love him so much. And now he is dead.
Oh, Juliet. What a crappy way to die.
I'm less convinced that Jacob is evil, but still not sure he's Jesus Christ either. I do think he was purposely cold to Ben so that he WOULD kill him. I think that's part of his plan. Which makes more signs point to "Christ figure". But still. Not convinced.
Also, it takes a ridiculously hot fire to actually burn a human being up.
The first 17 minutes of Lost, and I am such a dork.
I've been watching the first part of the season finale for an hour and a half and am only 17 minutes in. This is really pathetic. My crazy notions and dumb questions so far:
I have another crazy theory. The first episode of the entire show begins with Kate and Jack in the forest. It's very Adam and Evey, I think. Anyway, this scene and what follows lead us to believe that Jack and Kate are going to be the heroes of the show.
I think that's a deliberate misdirection. I don't think Jack and Kate are Adam and Eve in the sense that they are the first human beings, perfect in everything. I think Jack and Kate are the ones who first sin and bring about The Fall. Now, I don't they're intentionally villainy; in fact, I don't if this show has anyone who is completely evil on purpose. Not so far, at least. But I think that by their blundering selfishness, they continually guide the Losties down the path of destruction. Even when they think they're not being selfish, they do things out of self-righteous indignation. They don't do what they believe to be right out of a desire to do right, but out of a desire to be better than everybody else; every time one of them does something "good", it's followed by a long period of chest-thumping my-righteousness-is-better-than-your-righteousness.
My other crazy theory is about John Locke. John Locke has always been a very gullible soul. He's a kind-natured person, but he's constantly being duped. When he comes back to the Island, we see he's changed. He has an edge that was never there before. My theory: we're supposed to think that John has lost his gullible nature; after all, he's been lied to, had his kidneys stolen, sold out by his mother, abandoned by his father, abused by his foster parents, teased by his boss, humiliated by a tour guide, and murdered by Ben. Who could possibly trust anyone after all that?
The thing is, that up until Ben murdered him, he was still always too trusting of other people. So why would one event in a long string of betrayals suddenly make him change? I think John Locke is being duped again. Whatever is speaking to him, whether it's really the Island or not, is not his friend.
Moving on:
Scene one: Jacob, in white. The tapestry reads, "May gods grant what you desire in your heart." or "May heaven grant you in all things your heart's desire." Or something. That's what the Internet told me, at least. I don't know Greek. Why can't this show have Hebrew, huh? Such an important ancient language, yet so neglected and ignored. Sigh. Anyway, it's a line from the Odyssey. He's speaking to Nausicaa, whose name, coincidentally, I'm sure, means, "burner of ships" (again, this is just what the Internet has told me). She helps him get ships that finally get him home.
Jacob is wearing white and catching and eating some fish he's caught in the net (metaphor?). Other Dude is wearing black. We'll call him Johnny Cash. Is this Smokey? I'm still up in the air about who is good and who is evil on this show, and I know Lost loves misdirection. He draws hapless fish (real and in ship form) to the Island and devours them. I suspect the ship we see now is the Black Rock. And we know where that one ends up.
Johnny Cash asks Jacob if he knows how much he wants to kill him. Jacob, unimpressed by this, says "yes". They talk about loops, corruption, and how the only end that matters is the real end. Then we pan out to...
Sobek, crocodile god! From Wikipedia, that font of completely accurate information:
"Gradually, Sobek also came to symbolize the produce of the Nile and the fertility that it brought to the land; its status thus became more ambiguous.[2] Sometimes the ferocity of a crocodile was seen in a positive light, Sobek in these circumstances was considered the army's patron, as a representation of strength and power.
Sobek's ambiguous nature led some Egyptians to believe that he was a repairer of evil that had been done, rather than a force for good in itself, for example, going to Duat to restore damage done to the dead as a result of their form of death. He was also said to call on suitable gods and goddesses required for protecting people in situation, effectively having a more distant role, nudging things along, rather than taking an active part. In this way, he was seen as a more primal god, eventually becoming regarded as an avatar of the primal god Amun, who at that time was considered the chief god. When his identity finally merged, Amun had become merged himself with Ra to become Amun-Ra, so Sobek, as an avatar of Amun-Ra, was known as Sobek-Ra."
According to Wikipedia, the ankh he's toting represents his ability to undo evil. Very interesting when we're talking about time loops.
Scene in store: Kate steals, gets caught, is about to be punished. Jacob comes to the rescue, pays for her transgression, tells her not to steal anymore. Sound familiar? John 8:3-11 Again, I think this is a misdirection. I don't believe Jacob is Jesus Christ. He gives me the willies. What if the point of this interchange is instead that, by "saving" her from discipline, he's encouraging her in her earliest steps on a destructive path and, at the same time, claiming her as his own? BUT I'm not 100% sure of that. Sometimes I do think he's the good guy.
Maybe Rose and Bernard are Adam and Eve in the cave, and that's why they've completely vanished from the show without explanation.
So has Ben really never met Jacob, and he was faking the conversation when he took John to the cabin? Or is he lying to Sun? If he's lying to Sun, why?
What IS in the box? John Locke? Did he really not come back to life? Is the John Locke walking around 100% Ol' Smokey? This would make me sad. I love John Locke.
And AGAIN, Jacob steps in while Sawyer is planning his vengeance, even as a little boy. One the one hand, maybe he is just being a nice guy, doing a poor sad kid a favor. But I think he's encouraging him in his bitterness and laying claim to him with a "gift".
I have another crazy theory. The first episode of the entire show begins with Kate and Jack in the forest. It's very Adam and Evey, I think. Anyway, this scene and what follows lead us to believe that Jack and Kate are going to be the heroes of the show.
I think that's a deliberate misdirection. I don't think Jack and Kate are Adam and Eve in the sense that they are the first human beings, perfect in everything. I think Jack and Kate are the ones who first sin and bring about The Fall. Now, I don't they're intentionally villainy; in fact, I don't if this show has anyone who is completely evil on purpose. Not so far, at least. But I think that by their blundering selfishness, they continually guide the Losties down the path of destruction. Even when they think they're not being selfish, they do things out of self-righteous indignation. They don't do what they believe to be right out of a desire to do right, but out of a desire to be better than everybody else; every time one of them does something "good", it's followed by a long period of chest-thumping my-righteousness-is-better-than-your-righteousness.
My other crazy theory is about John Locke. John Locke has always been a very gullible soul. He's a kind-natured person, but he's constantly being duped. When he comes back to the Island, we see he's changed. He has an edge that was never there before. My theory: we're supposed to think that John has lost his gullible nature; after all, he's been lied to, had his kidneys stolen, sold out by his mother, abandoned by his father, abused by his foster parents, teased by his boss, humiliated by a tour guide, and murdered by Ben. Who could possibly trust anyone after all that?
The thing is, that up until Ben murdered him, he was still always too trusting of other people. So why would one event in a long string of betrayals suddenly make him change? I think John Locke is being duped again. Whatever is speaking to him, whether it's really the Island or not, is not his friend.
Moving on:
Scene one: Jacob, in white. The tapestry reads, "May gods grant what you desire in your heart." or "May heaven grant you in all things your heart's desire." Or something. That's what the Internet told me, at least. I don't know Greek. Why can't this show have Hebrew, huh? Such an important ancient language, yet so neglected and ignored. Sigh. Anyway, it's a line from the Odyssey. He's speaking to Nausicaa, whose name, coincidentally, I'm sure, means, "burner of ships" (again, this is just what the Internet has told me). She helps him get ships that finally get him home.
Jacob is wearing white and catching and eating some fish he's caught in the net (metaphor?). Other Dude is wearing black. We'll call him Johnny Cash. Is this Smokey? I'm still up in the air about who is good and who is evil on this show, and I know Lost loves misdirection. He draws hapless fish (real and in ship form) to the Island and devours them. I suspect the ship we see now is the Black Rock. And we know where that one ends up.
Johnny Cash asks Jacob if he knows how much he wants to kill him. Jacob, unimpressed by this, says "yes". They talk about loops, corruption, and how the only end that matters is the real end. Then we pan out to...
Sobek, crocodile god! From Wikipedia, that font of completely accurate information:
"Gradually, Sobek also came to symbolize the produce of the Nile and the fertility that it brought to the land; its status thus became more ambiguous.[2] Sometimes the ferocity of a crocodile was seen in a positive light, Sobek in these circumstances was considered the army's patron, as a representation of strength and power.
Sobek's ambiguous nature led some Egyptians to believe that he was a repairer of evil that had been done, rather than a force for good in itself, for example, going to Duat to restore damage done to the dead as a result of their form of death. He was also said to call on suitable gods and goddesses required for protecting people in situation, effectively having a more distant role, nudging things along, rather than taking an active part. In this way, he was seen as a more primal god, eventually becoming regarded as an avatar of the primal god Amun, who at that time was considered the chief god. When his identity finally merged, Amun had become merged himself with Ra to become Amun-Ra, so Sobek, as an avatar of Amun-Ra, was known as Sobek-Ra."
According to Wikipedia, the ankh he's toting represents his ability to undo evil. Very interesting when we're talking about time loops.
Scene in store: Kate steals, gets caught, is about to be punished. Jacob comes to the rescue, pays for her transgression, tells her not to steal anymore. Sound familiar? John 8:3-11 Again, I think this is a misdirection. I don't believe Jacob is Jesus Christ. He gives me the willies. What if the point of this interchange is instead that, by "saving" her from discipline, he's encouraging her in her earliest steps on a destructive path and, at the same time, claiming her as his own? BUT I'm not 100% sure of that. Sometimes I do think he's the good guy.
Maybe Rose and Bernard are Adam and Eve in the cave, and that's why they've completely vanished from the show without explanation.
So has Ben really never met Jacob, and he was faking the conversation when he took John to the cabin? Or is he lying to Sun? If he's lying to Sun, why?
What IS in the box? John Locke? Did he really not come back to life? Is the John Locke walking around 100% Ol' Smokey? This would make me sad. I love John Locke.
And AGAIN, Jacob steps in while Sawyer is planning his vengeance, even as a little boy. One the one hand, maybe he is just being a nice guy, doing a poor sad kid a favor. But I think he's encouraging him in his bitterness and laying claim to him with a "gift".
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
No laundry, no dishes, I have no purpose
I'm finally in the mood and have the time and energy to write something. Those three things hardly ever happen at once lately. As I'm sure you've noticed.
A couple weekends ago was the citywide garage sale. A couple just a few blocks over has two little girls and impeccable taste. We scored five outfits and a hat. I really wish I'd gotten more, but I didn't want to blow all our cash on Grace clothes. We ended up with about $50 left over from what we'd taken out, so I'm kicking myself now. Maybe it's a good thing, though. Two of those outfits turned out to be a little small (even though that brand usually runs big, and it was one size up from what she's wearing now). And the booties that came with them barely fit on Grace's thumbs. The child has the biggest baby feet I have ever seen in my life.
Bowling ball head, skinny little body, legs like sausages, and feet like yardsticks. Poor kid.
So, at another garage sale, I'm standing at a table, flipping through a bunch of cute clothing that will never fit me in a million years and sobbing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man sidling up to me. It's a we-are-intimate-friends sidle, not a I'd-like-to-look-too-so-please-move sidle. And then. THEN. There is a HAND on my BUTT.
I whirl around and burn a hole in the guy's face with the power of my mind. Or just glare real hard. He turns a spectacular shade of vermillion and says, "OHMYGOSHIAMSOSORRYITHOUGHTYOUWEREMYWIFE." Which, I don't know. His wife was my height, but much stockier, and had red hair. And we were wearing completely different outfits. But if he was lying, he should get an Emmy award. I'm not sure I've ever seen such horrified embarrassment. Anyway, I laughed and told him not to worry about it, but he stayed at least twenty feet away from me for the rest of the day. We kept coincidentally showing up at the same yard sales. The poor man probably thought I was going to stalk him to death as punishment.
And finally, we got a pantry cabinet for the kitchen. It is EXACTLY what I've been wanting since we got the house and have not been able to find anywhere for less than a frillion dollars. It has no door, and it's not very stylish, but I don't care. I mean, we have forest green cabinets with bendy hinges, so there's not much style going on in that kitchen anyway. We got it for 8 bucks from some people down the street. And the man put it in his truck and delivered it for us as soon as we bought it.
I had to laugh (in a good way, not a mean way). He had a long braid, insane facial hair, scary tattoos, and "JESUS SAVES!" on the back of his motorcycle jacket.
I'm kind of a snob about garage sales. I have a thing about other people's dirt. James kept wanting to go to these sales at run-down houses, and I kept guiding him the other way. I mean, look at our house! From the outside, it looks pretty shabby, too. I just get the willies wandering into a dank garage with ancient furniture and creepy smells and handling the stuff in there. The ones we did go to at houses that were less than pristine did mostly seem to have dirty, junky stuff, so I feel a little justified. But still pretty snobby.
CFF came over Monday. We had fun. Well, I had fun. I'm pretty sure she did, too. I'm such a dork about meeting new people and hanging out with them. Well, she's not new, really, but we don't see a whole lot of each other. Anyway, when I'm making new friends, it's like I'm back in junior high, and I write a note that says, "Do you like me? Check one: __yes __no __maybe" And then I give that note to a friend of mine to give to a friend of my crush, to give to him. How is it that I was so good at and comfortable with waitressing and chatting with strangers upon whose favor I depended for a decent income, but making friends is so weird?
Speaking of making friends. Remember how we had our neighbors over for dinner way back in December (Shirtless Yardwork Neighbor Man is one of them)? They've hardly spoken to us since. It is very weird. Maybe they're just pissed that we haven't mowed the lawn yet this year. SYNM has mowed three times. Ourjungle lawn is going to eat his lawn, and then he'll come kill us.
So if you don't hear from me for ANOTHER two weeks, SYNM has either buried us under his basement floor, or we got lost in our own grass and starved to death.
A couple weekends ago was the citywide garage sale. A couple just a few blocks over has two little girls and impeccable taste. We scored five outfits and a hat. I really wish I'd gotten more, but I didn't want to blow all our cash on Grace clothes. We ended up with about $50 left over from what we'd taken out, so I'm kicking myself now. Maybe it's a good thing, though. Two of those outfits turned out to be a little small (even though that brand usually runs big, and it was one size up from what she's wearing now). And the booties that came with them barely fit on Grace's thumbs. The child has the biggest baby feet I have ever seen in my life.
Bowling ball head, skinny little body, legs like sausages, and feet like yardsticks. Poor kid.
So, at another garage sale, I'm standing at a table, flipping through a bunch of cute clothing that will never fit me in a million years and sobbing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man sidling up to me. It's a we-are-intimate-friends sidle, not a I'd-like-to-look-too-so-please-move sidle. And then. THEN. There is a HAND on my BUTT.
I whirl around and burn a hole in the guy's face with the power of my mind. Or just glare real hard. He turns a spectacular shade of vermillion and says, "OHMYGOSHIAMSOSORRYITHOUGHTYOUWEREMYWIFE." Which, I don't know. His wife was my height, but much stockier, and had red hair. And we were wearing completely different outfits. But if he was lying, he should get an Emmy award. I'm not sure I've ever seen such horrified embarrassment. Anyway, I laughed and told him not to worry about it, but he stayed at least twenty feet away from me for the rest of the day. We kept coincidentally showing up at the same yard sales. The poor man probably thought I was going to stalk him to death as punishment.
And finally, we got a pantry cabinet for the kitchen. It is EXACTLY what I've been wanting since we got the house and have not been able to find anywhere for less than a frillion dollars. It has no door, and it's not very stylish, but I don't care. I mean, we have forest green cabinets with bendy hinges, so there's not much style going on in that kitchen anyway. We got it for 8 bucks from some people down the street. And the man put it in his truck and delivered it for us as soon as we bought it.
I had to laugh (in a good way, not a mean way). He had a long braid, insane facial hair, scary tattoos, and "JESUS SAVES!" on the back of his motorcycle jacket.
I'm kind of a snob about garage sales. I have a thing about other people's dirt. James kept wanting to go to these sales at run-down houses, and I kept guiding him the other way. I mean, look at our house! From the outside, it looks pretty shabby, too. I just get the willies wandering into a dank garage with ancient furniture and creepy smells and handling the stuff in there. The ones we did go to at houses that were less than pristine did mostly seem to have dirty, junky stuff, so I feel a little justified. But still pretty snobby.
CFF came over Monday. We had fun. Well, I had fun. I'm pretty sure she did, too. I'm such a dork about meeting new people and hanging out with them. Well, she's not new, really, but we don't see a whole lot of each other. Anyway, when I'm making new friends, it's like I'm back in junior high, and I write a note that says, "Do you like me? Check one: __yes __no __maybe" And then I give that note to a friend of mine to give to a friend of my crush, to give to him. How is it that I was so good at and comfortable with waitressing and chatting with strangers upon whose favor I depended for a decent income, but making friends is so weird?
Speaking of making friends. Remember how we had our neighbors over for dinner way back in December (Shirtless Yardwork Neighbor Man is one of them)? They've hardly spoken to us since. It is very weird. Maybe they're just pissed that we haven't mowed the lawn yet this year. SYNM has mowed three times. Our
So if you don't hear from me for ANOTHER two weeks, SYNM has either buried us under his basement floor, or we got lost in our own grass and starved to death.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Grouchy McGroucherson
You know what happens when you only write once a week? You turn out bloated entries that take a year to read. That's what happens. I think I fell asleep before I finally got through the last one.
The Child, she is CRABBY. I'm so over this teething thing. One day (like yesterday), she's a constant ray of sunshine, grinning and giggling and gabbling nonstop, even when I put her down to sleep. The next day (like today! lucky me!), she's a black abyss, whining and crying and sobbing at the drop of a hat. I'm giving her half a dose of Tylenol once a day, but I have to use it judiciously. I know Tylenol is safe when it's used as directed, but I'm still uneasy about using it all the time. I don't want her liver to fall out when she's twelve because Mommy couldn't handle a day or two with a few tears.
We are going to see Star Trek next week. We are going to be out PAST THE CHILD'S BEDTIME. People, you have no idea how excited I am.
And this Friday James is going to watch The Child for the evening so I can go out with some friends. Not quite as exciting as both of us being gone for the evening, but still! I'm starting to feel like a normal human being again!
And yet I still want a baby again.
There is so much work to do around here. My floors are a biohazard, especially in the kitchen. I'm a very messy cook, and since chicken is about the only meat we can afford regularly, a lot of it gets flung on the floor. If the world dies from an outbreak of salmonella, it probably originated on my kitchen floor.
Many things I'm willing to let The Child get into; I think a sterile environment does more harm than good. But I'm not so keen on questionable paint chips from our front porch and chicken juice. Since she can now roll anywhere she wants to go (oh, I so wish I were kidding), I need to start cleaning up those things.
James is going to be going to South Africa (I know!) sometime this year. We don't know when, yet, which sucks because we can't make any longterm plans. Anyway, when that happens, I'd like to take a drive to visit with his side of the family in Indiana. It's about 5.5 hours with no stopping, so I don't know if it's feasible to do it by myself The Child in tow (which is half the point of going down there in the first place).
Unfortunately, gone are the days when I could just grab a friend and say, "Hey, let's drive to Indiana for the week!" Everyone has jobs or kids or responsibilities. Jerks. I would like for you people to tell me if it is possible to make such a trip without losing my mind. I have friends in the Chicago area, and if I asked nicely, one of them might let us camp out for the night. That would at least break the trip in two, even if the first leg is much shorter than the second.
Grace (when not teething) is a freakishly happy baby these days, but she also gets lonely easily; she's very, very social. I bought a mirror to install in the backseat so she can at least flirt with herself if she gets sad and peek at me in the rearview mirror, but we may need to stop every couple hours so she can get some real cuddling. I think I can make it work, but I'm not sure. And it's not exactly the sort of thing I can decide not to do if it doesn't seem to be working out.
Awesome Friend and her husband are overseas getting their son right now. They got to meet the birth mother, and I guess it was a very emotional visit. I feel so sorry for that woman. She faces execution if she shows up with an illegitimate child, so there's not much choice. Her son is Grace's age. I cannot imagine giving her up. Might as well dig out my chest cavity with a shovel. It'd be hard enough at birth, but she had him for months before she gave him to the orphanage. I think she wanted to keep him (she was hiding out in the house of a lady she did housekeeping for), but finally realized it wasn't feasible.
Anyway, I can't wait to meet him. I've seen grainy pictures of him, and he's adorable in those, so I'm sure he's just beautiful in person.
Time to wake up The Grouch. Now that she has teeth, I'm afraid she will bite my hand off one of these days. Wish me luck.
The Child, she is CRABBY. I'm so over this teething thing. One day (like yesterday), she's a constant ray of sunshine, grinning and giggling and gabbling nonstop, even when I put her down to sleep. The next day (like today! lucky me!), she's a black abyss, whining and crying and sobbing at the drop of a hat. I'm giving her half a dose of Tylenol once a day, but I have to use it judiciously. I know Tylenol is safe when it's used as directed, but I'm still uneasy about using it all the time. I don't want her liver to fall out when she's twelve because Mommy couldn't handle a day or two with a few tears.
We are going to see Star Trek next week. We are going to be out PAST THE CHILD'S BEDTIME. People, you have no idea how excited I am.
And this Friday James is going to watch The Child for the evening so I can go out with some friends. Not quite as exciting as both of us being gone for the evening, but still! I'm starting to feel like a normal human being again!
And yet I still want a baby again.
There is so much work to do around here. My floors are a biohazard, especially in the kitchen. I'm a very messy cook, and since chicken is about the only meat we can afford regularly, a lot of it gets flung on the floor. If the world dies from an outbreak of salmonella, it probably originated on my kitchen floor.
Many things I'm willing to let The Child get into; I think a sterile environment does more harm than good. But I'm not so keen on questionable paint chips from our front porch and chicken juice. Since she can now roll anywhere she wants to go (oh, I so wish I were kidding), I need to start cleaning up those things.
James is going to be going to South Africa (I know!) sometime this year. We don't know when, yet, which sucks because we can't make any longterm plans. Anyway, when that happens, I'd like to take a drive to visit with his side of the family in Indiana. It's about 5.5 hours with no stopping, so I don't know if it's feasible to do it by myself The Child in tow (which is half the point of going down there in the first place).
Unfortunately, gone are the days when I could just grab a friend and say, "Hey, let's drive to Indiana for the week!" Everyone has jobs or kids or responsibilities. Jerks. I would like for you people to tell me if it is possible to make such a trip without losing my mind. I have friends in the Chicago area, and if I asked nicely, one of them might let us camp out for the night. That would at least break the trip in two, even if the first leg is much shorter than the second.
Grace (when not teething) is a freakishly happy baby these days, but she also gets lonely easily; she's very, very social. I bought a mirror to install in the backseat so she can at least flirt with herself if she gets sad and peek at me in the rearview mirror, but we may need to stop every couple hours so she can get some real cuddling. I think I can make it work, but I'm not sure. And it's not exactly the sort of thing I can decide not to do if it doesn't seem to be working out.
Awesome Friend and her husband are overseas getting their son right now. They got to meet the birth mother, and I guess it was a very emotional visit. I feel so sorry for that woman. She faces execution if she shows up with an illegitimate child, so there's not much choice. Her son is Grace's age. I cannot imagine giving her up. Might as well dig out my chest cavity with a shovel. It'd be hard enough at birth, but she had him for months before she gave him to the orphanage. I think she wanted to keep him (she was hiding out in the house of a lady she did housekeeping for), but finally realized it wasn't feasible.
Anyway, I can't wait to meet him. I've seen grainy pictures of him, and he's adorable in those, so I'm sure he's just beautiful in person.
Time to wake up The Grouch. Now that she has teeth, I'm afraid she will bite my hand off one of these days. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Can't wait for peeling skin!
Wow, it's been a while! I am so good at this writing business. This week, though, I had good reasons besides just, "My TV remote needed some loving care."
One: Teeth. Yes, teeth. Plural. Two going on four I so wish I were kidding. James was gone at the beginning of last week, and The Child whined and fussed more than average. For her, that's still hardly any fussing, but since I've been spoiled by her for the last month, I didn't know what to do. What, you want to be carried? placated? loved? What's wrong with you? I was dismayed. I also thought it was a little sweet, maybe she missed Daddy.
Then Daddy got home, and her demeanor didn't improve. I think it got worse, actually.
So, Friday, I had my finger in her mouth for some reason. I don't know why. There are many possibilities. She may have been eating a fly, and I was trying to dig it out. I may have forgotten her pacifier, and she momentarily forgot what her thumb was for. Not sure. Anyway. Finger in mouth, and oh, HAI THAR TEETHZ. Two on the bottom have just broken through, and the two on the top are all bulgy and threatening-looking. Supposedly those don't usually come in until 8-10 months, but I don't buy it. I think I might prefer to get so many out of the way at once. Then I get my sweet, happy baby back for longer.
Two: Four trips to Madison in four days. Thursday, to help some people in the church move. The Child was oddly cheerful, despite the strange things happening in her mouth. She sat on the floor (unsupported!) and played with a toy phone for 45 minutes straight. And yelled at it. A lot. She likes to hold her toys out at arm's length and monologue at them. It's pretty hilarious. I'd get video, but the second the camera comes out, she stops everything she's doing and stares blankly at The Eye, OH THE EYE of the camera.
So I was actually useful in helping with the move, instead of bouncing a cranky baby for three hours straight.
Friday was the zoo and then an afternoon on the Memorial Union terrace with some friends. The zoo was fun. I went with my pastor's wife and their two kids. Internally, I was completely dorking out the whole entire time because a friend! I think I have a friend! And she has pretty hair! Outwardly, I probably go too far in the other direction. I'm so desperate not to look desperate that I probably seem completely uninterested. My superpower is social awkwardness.
Then I met up with Hebrew Friend and Other Hebrew Friend and then One More Hebrew Friend (who finally returned my first season of The X-Files to me after a year and a half), and then Some Girl Who Joined Hebrew after I Left. I sat outside in the sun for half an hour, and guess what! My shoulders burned! I know! Surprise! Nothing else even tanned, but did I get a mother of a sunburn on my shoulders. From a distance, I look like a person-shaped strawberry wearing a white tank top. We were out there for more than half an hour, but I fashionably draped a baby blanket across my shoulders. By then it was, of course, too late.
The Child did very well on Friday. She got almost no naps, and she was away from home all day, and there was absolutely no routine, but she was so, so good. Fussy, but definitely happier than most other babies her age on a good day. I tremble to think what our next baby will be like. It seems like, the better the first one is, the worse the second.
Saturday I went to a baby shower. A coed baby shower. I had no idea it was coed, or I probably would not have included that tube of NIPPLE CREAM in my gift. Yeah. Everyone laughed at my gift, and even though I though it was pretty funny, too, I was also a little hurt. I mean, she's planning to breastfeed, and I know she'll be able to use it, and if she's anything like me she'll use it fast. But it still hurt. I felt like such an idiot. I'm sensitive about the weirdest things.
Then, of course, Sunday was church. We spent the day at James's mom's house afterwards. It was a good day, and Grace had something like a real routine for the first time in days. I thought we were all good.
Dun dun dun.
Three: The Changeling. Around 2:30 this afternoon my sweet girl child became the spawn of Satan. I don't know what happened. Maybe she bumped her head while I wasn't looking (doubtful). Maybe she chewed on a hard toy too much, and it hurt her teeth (likely). Maybe she got overtired without me noticing (possible). Whatever it was, she abruptly went from cooing, gabbling, and shrieking (with joy) to shrieking (with anguish). There was nothing I could do to calm her.
The rest of the day was pretty miserable. Lousy napping, lots of sadness. James got home, and I told him, "I know Jim is coming over, but I cannot handle Grace by myself for two hours tonight." Of COURSE she was all sweetness and light when she woke up. Silly baby.
One: Teeth. Yes, teeth. Plural. Two going on four I so wish I were kidding. James was gone at the beginning of last week, and The Child whined and fussed more than average. For her, that's still hardly any fussing, but since I've been spoiled by her for the last month, I didn't know what to do. What, you want to be carried? placated? loved? What's wrong with you? I was dismayed. I also thought it was a little sweet, maybe she missed Daddy.
Then Daddy got home, and her demeanor didn't improve. I think it got worse, actually.
So, Friday, I had my finger in her mouth for some reason. I don't know why. There are many possibilities. She may have been eating a fly, and I was trying to dig it out. I may have forgotten her pacifier, and she momentarily forgot what her thumb was for. Not sure. Anyway. Finger in mouth, and oh, HAI THAR TEETHZ. Two on the bottom have just broken through, and the two on the top are all bulgy and threatening-looking. Supposedly those don't usually come in until 8-10 months, but I don't buy it. I think I might prefer to get so many out of the way at once. Then I get my sweet, happy baby back for longer.
Two: Four trips to Madison in four days. Thursday, to help some people in the church move. The Child was oddly cheerful, despite the strange things happening in her mouth. She sat on the floor (unsupported!) and played with a toy phone for 45 minutes straight. And yelled at it. A lot. She likes to hold her toys out at arm's length and monologue at them. It's pretty hilarious. I'd get video, but the second the camera comes out, she stops everything she's doing and stares blankly at The Eye, OH THE EYE of the camera.
So I was actually useful in helping with the move, instead of bouncing a cranky baby for three hours straight.
Friday was the zoo and then an afternoon on the Memorial Union terrace with some friends. The zoo was fun. I went with my pastor's wife and their two kids. Internally, I was completely dorking out the whole entire time because a friend! I think I have a friend! And she has pretty hair! Outwardly, I probably go too far in the other direction. I'm so desperate not to look desperate that I probably seem completely uninterested. My superpower is social awkwardness.
Then I met up with Hebrew Friend and Other Hebrew Friend and then One More Hebrew Friend (who finally returned my first season of The X-Files to me after a year and a half), and then Some Girl Who Joined Hebrew after I Left. I sat outside in the sun for half an hour, and guess what! My shoulders burned! I know! Surprise! Nothing else even tanned, but did I get a mother of a sunburn on my shoulders. From a distance, I look like a person-shaped strawberry wearing a white tank top. We were out there for more than half an hour, but I fashionably draped a baby blanket across my shoulders. By then it was, of course, too late.
The Child did very well on Friday. She got almost no naps, and she was away from home all day, and there was absolutely no routine, but she was so, so good. Fussy, but definitely happier than most other babies her age on a good day. I tremble to think what our next baby will be like. It seems like, the better the first one is, the worse the second.
Saturday I went to a baby shower. A coed baby shower. I had no idea it was coed, or I probably would not have included that tube of NIPPLE CREAM in my gift. Yeah. Everyone laughed at my gift, and even though I though it was pretty funny, too, I was also a little hurt. I mean, she's planning to breastfeed, and I know she'll be able to use it, and if she's anything like me she'll use it fast. But it still hurt. I felt like such an idiot. I'm sensitive about the weirdest things.
Then, of course, Sunday was church. We spent the day at James's mom's house afterwards. It was a good day, and Grace had something like a real routine for the first time in days. I thought we were all good.
Dun dun dun.
Three: The Changeling. Around 2:30 this afternoon my sweet girl child became the spawn of Satan. I don't know what happened. Maybe she bumped her head while I wasn't looking (doubtful). Maybe she chewed on a hard toy too much, and it hurt her teeth (likely). Maybe she got overtired without me noticing (possible). Whatever it was, she abruptly went from cooing, gabbling, and shrieking (with joy) to shrieking (with anguish). There was nothing I could do to calm her.
The rest of the day was pretty miserable. Lousy napping, lots of sadness. James got home, and I told him, "I know Jim is coming over, but I cannot handle Grace by myself for two hours tonight." Of COURSE she was all sweetness and light when she woke up. Silly baby.
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