Astute Observation

Says the kiddo: "You know mommy, let me tell you something about Legos. They're making the instructions a bit harder these days."

His awesome friends got him a ton of Lego sets for his birthday, and he's been systematically starting (and in some cases, finishing) each set. ON. HIS. OWN. I'm proud, duh, but really excited because it means I have to spend way less time on the floor which I am far too old to be doing comfortably. But, I get to spend just enough time examining his progress to see awesome displays of Legotry.

Angry Wolverine:

Even angrier Wolverine:

The Party That Enveloped My Entire Weekend

Man, throwing a birthday party for a six year old is almost as exhausting as giving birth to the kid himself all those many (many many many) years ago. Every year we do it, and every year we turn to each other and say "NEVER. AGAIN." And then we see our happy kid, his happy friends, everyone covered in chocolate and various remnents of fun...

See you next year!

Sweet Kitty Saturday

I love my kitty girls and I LOVE Google instant awesome motion!

Halloweenification

After discovering last weekend that the kiddo's Halloween costume had disappeared into thin air, we were able to get a new (and significantly better) costume this week. Behold, Army Guy, also known as Mr. Camouflage:

He did a great job not getting kidnapped, and enjoyed his bounty until it was time to turn the bulk of it over to the Halloween Fairy. Don't look at me like that, it's completely legitimate for a parent to reappropriate their child's Halloween candy in exchange for a toy.

Some candy was set aside, as is our tradition, for his day after Halloween birthday waffle. This here is one happy six-year-old enjoying his triple Kit-Kat birthday waffle. Happy Birthday, Mr. Man! 

Hooray for Food Coloring!

The kiddo and I are making technicolor cupcakes for his class birthday celebration on Friday. No boring old chocolate or yellow cake for MY kid, heck no. Instead, let's spend 2 + hours stirring and mixing and portioning.

We turned this...

...into this...

...and then that into these...

And when they cool, they will be topped with this:

It was a great tie-in to the color-themed unit he's being doing at school recently. They even did a performance of Roy G. Biv at an assembly last week! Kid at school + They Might Be Giants = Happy Mommy.

Counting Down to Six

On September 29th, we made a paper chain to count down the days until Samson's 6th birthday. There were 34 links on that chain. Now there are 3.

To the boy, each link brings him closer to gift boxes filled with Nerf guns and Lego sets, cupcakes and strangers at a restaurant singing Happy Birthday to him at the table as he gulps down a milkshake. To me, each link brings him closer to growing hair in his armpits, learning to drive, his first kiss and college applications. 

I am so glad that while he is still 5, we had the foresight to establish an understanding that when he gets married, his wife will live in a tree house in the backyard.

His idea.

That's my boy.

Hello, I Must Be Going

Clearly, somebody either spiked my drink I've been asleep for a very long time, or there's some sort of time-space-mess going on. All I know is that I have FIVE DAYS before the kiddo's birthday party, and I am...well, here's a brief list of how I am:

1. underprepared.

2. overwhelmed.

3. too tired for this crap.

4. wasting my time blogging when I should be filling rocket ship-themed goodie bags.

5. astonished that this tiny little 6 pound, 14 ounce, Halloween-candy-induced explosion is about to turn 6 years old.

The Shame

Holy crap, did I ever jump the gun in that last post! My 999 posts included 9 drafts, so I really only have (including this post) 991 posts. Not that anyone is counting. EXCEPT FOR ME. I AM COUNTING. So please forgive that totally characteristic move and save your excitement and cheers for the REAL 1,000th post which I estimate will be sometime in the next couple of weeks. Not blogging on Fridays and Saturdays works well for me--I really need at least two nights a week where I can fall asleep in a drunken stupor--and having a regular brain-type-task that I can complete each night before a work day really helps me fool my coworkers into thinking I've actually got my shit together. And all of that is just a long-winded way of saying that the 1,000th post is just around the corner. Be patient.

My elementary school teachers are collectively turning in their graves! And retirement communities!

So I'm composing a post for tomorrow's big fancy ONE THOUSANDTH BLOG POST and looking through the past 9 years of entries and HOLY SHIT do I need an editor! Typos. Typos everywhere you look. Misspellings, words missing, it's a total disaster. I think it's gotten better recently, ever since a certain someone (MAX) pointed out how much I need to re-read my posts before I hurriedly hit the Publish button. So thanks, I guess, to Max for being an insensitive (but absolutely right) pain in the ass, and maybe he'll volunteer to go back through the last 998 posts with me to correct this horribleness.

And I had totally forgotten about the Great Server Crash of 2006 when I lost a great many of my pictures and such. Not to mention 9 + years of out-of-date links. It's hard to celebrate the longevity and meaningfulness of the blog when things are in such a state of disarray.

Don't worry--I'll be in a much better mood tomorrow night. 1,000 posts! Hooray!

Buttered popcorn and baby chicks are going straight to hell

Huh. I knew there had to be a reason I've never liked bananas, construction vehicles, daffodils, or yield signs.

Great job on your homework, kiddo! To save us both the headache, I'm not going to bring up submarines. Or this awesome cover of the Coldplay original.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Goofy Faces

When I was looking for the picture of Ozzy and me swimming that I posted yesterday, I found a number of pictures of me with super goofball expressions on my face. Initially, I thought it was just due to how I react to posing for a snap shot--I've never been good at holding still to smile. Which way am I supposed to turn? How much am I supposed to suck in my gut? Do I look constipated when I suck my gut in this much? Then I realized that most of the dingus-face pictures during the time period I was looking at were selfies. I was actually documenting my own ridiculous facial expressions, and it's obvious to me now that I was officially trying to hide my own sadness and anger FROM MYSELF.

The time period in question--as if it's not fucking obvious--are those three years or so between late 2009 when I was I diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and late 2012 when I finally realized that, huh, I was still alive. These photos would make it seem that the only face I could really show myself was one that was above the fear, immune from the anger, not drown by sadness. No deer in the headlights here, only a survivor that laughs in the face of danger, ha! I know me, and perhaps I do laugh in the face of danger, but not until I've cried, yelled, panicked, and cried some more in, at and around the face of danger.

No tumor can penetrate my snark.

Or maybe I was just mad about this stupid haircut?

Waterless Dog Lake

I have all that I ever wanted right here at my feet, mere minutes from my doorstep. A lovely and manageable dog-friendly hike, complete with a lake (not really a lake, a big, water-filled reservoir of sorts with a dog-launching dock and lots of room to throw sticks and balls) safely situated away from the path and the road. Now, the only thing I'm missing: dogs that will go into the water.

When we lived in Oregon, it was nothing but rivers and lakes and any number of swim days for Ozzy and Nanna. Moving back here after college changed our water dog ways for good. For years, I had to either drive miles and miles away to find fresh water to swim in--which was painful, considering we lived right next to the San Francisco Bay, but the bay water is just too yucky to deal with--or we could hit the coast and dip in the Pacific. The ocean is fine and good, but also really heavy on the off-leash tickets.

When I first found Waterdog Lake, it served as an awesome place to hike, even with Samson's stroller. But the lake part was super gross and unkempt, very smelly and swampy. Now, years later, it's re-done by local volunteers, and chock full of happy, wet, tired dogs: labs, retrievers, and mutts galore, the way nature intended.

And then there are Turkey Sandwich and Little Fizz, running up and down along the shore, barking and whining and refusing the great gift of aquatic freedom. Stupid dogs.

Swimming with Ozzy at Lake Shasta in 2011. Even at the ripe old age of 13 (that's 72 in dog years) he loved jumping from the houseboat into the lake with me. GOOD DOG.

Drunken Blog Haiku

Dear Blog. I want to.
But there were too many drinks!
Alas, I cannot.

Some Bulleit rye, then some wine.
No, tonight is only sleep.
Barely 8 pm.

Lesson learned tonight?
Blog first, then time to imbibe.
Five more syllables.

More important though:
Such good times with my neighbor.
She's also my friend!

One more thought tonight:
I am happy for it all.
Every part of it.

Another thing though:
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Did I mention yay?

Nannagate

She's gone missing again. SOMEBODY (Max) let SOMEBODY ELSE (Samson) take her to school AGAIN on Monday. The kiddo claims to have searched high and low, but can't find her. Three nights back and she's already lost. NOT COOL.

Funny thing is that nobody but me seems to care. I know she's not Original Nanna, but she's the longest running Nanna we've had so far. She's been the most permanent fixture in my life as a parent (other than the child, ahem). It's hard to experience the emotional highs and lows associated with losing, then finding, then losing a treasured object that represents a bushel of treasured memories. The tactile characteristics of Old Nanna are so different from that of New Nanna, it's hard for me to think of them as the "same."

Sigh.

Milford, NY August 2010

Self Portrait

This guy has mad talent. I know that if got all of my favorite Samson artwork tattooed on my body I would look ridiculous, but sometimes it's awfully hard to hold back.

I also know that every mom thinks her kid's drawings are exceptional, and we're all right. When the squishy little flesh pod that lived in your belly for 9 months can create a something like this, it's more than an affirmation that you're doing your job right. I can't even find the words to describe the kind of pride I feel. I'm proud of my own ability to make a person, to teach him how to smile, and to foster that smile no matter what life throws at us. And man, life sure has a mean breaking ball.

Steamium

My new office has many fine and useful things, Such as:

>A Chickadee, which is great for cutting many layers of ticking.

>A powerful and aptly named iron:

>A random toaster, with...look closely...A POP-TART SETTING.

Wine or Whine?

After carpentry class, our neighbors/classmates came over for dinner--second week in a row, and hopefully a long lasting dinner date. The boys play (our neighbors are twins the same age as the kiddo, two wonderful boys we've known for more than four years now), and neighbor mom and I cook and drink wine. Lots 'o wine. Enough wine that I don't think I'll be writing all that much of a blog tonight. Instead, I'm just going to lay here and listen to the Sharks do some damage in Vancouver.

Also, check out this awesome link that my mom--YES MY MOM--shared on Facebook earlier this week. Can't choose a favorite, but it's probably the lighters. They're saying "Yay! Wheeee!"

Another Cool Thing About My New Job

We listen to a lot of Folk Alley. There's nothing like blugrass, ukeles, and hymms to get a body moving. Stories of love lost, the goverment trying to take away our farms, and all the ways in which she makes him happy--these songs are good for my soul. There's usually lots of mentions of trees, dewdrops, trains, whiskey, things that make me happy in general. And good songs of how he done her wrong and how lonely his life is without her there to make him smile.

And when I need a dose of reality I can go to the front of the shop and usually NPR is on the radio there.

Nanna Update

Breaking news: old Nanna has been located. OK, not so terribly breaking, as I learned this last night. But I am currently working on a black ops scenario to swap out New Nanna for Old Nanna, and relocating the clone factory to another, taller region, one where the prying eyes of 46 inch tall kids will never discover the truth.

Great times in history with Old Nanna: Israel, June 2010

New Nanna

It would appear that Nanna is gone. She wasn't at school where Samson left her on Friday--not in the classroom, not in the lost and found bin, not in the office, and not in the far field where he last remembers seeing her. She wasn't at the preschool, nor was she at the teen and community centers, all adjacent to the school. After 6 years, we all had to say goodbye to Nanna.

OK, it's not the first time we've lost her. If I'm going to be completely honest, she's not even the original Nanna. She was actually Nanna 2, or maybe even Nanna 3...I've lost count. The important thing is that she is a giraffe lovey, and the kiddo is fast asleep with her current incarnation--and fully aware of the reality of the situation. He happened upon my hidden stash of Nannas a few months ago, and has had no problem moving right along to the replacement lovely. Can't say I blame him, she is MUCH cleaner and MUCH less full of crud and holes than her predecessor. In fact, she's the spitting image of her great, great (great?) grandmother, Original Nanna:

A gift from one of my New York cousins, she was one of many baby lovies/stuffies/blankets we received when we had the boy, and she was the one that became THE ONE. Fascinating tidbit: her first name was Didee (can't remember why), and her name was changed to Nanna after my precious Nannabelle dog passed away in 2009. The kiddo changed her name all on his own--even at the tender age of 18 months he was a sweet and caring soul, and knew that we were loosing a very special dog. 

But I digress. New Nanna is warm and comfy in boy-o's arms, and hopefully, she is totally unaware that she is not the first of her kind to do so. It's not as bad as the Hank & Dean Venture situation, but it would probably mess with her stuffed little mind if she had any comprehension of what was happening...

It Begins

Because my child's activity schedule isn't fully enough--soccer, carpentry, art-math, after school sports-in-general...that's all?!--he has now begun martial arts. Yes, uniforms (aka more laundry) and organized hitting (hrmmm) are now a regular weekend activity for my little thug in training. I strategically chose a dojo that's next door yo a fro yo place--the best way to tame the physical beast I'm creating is with sugary snacks, obviously. 

Minus One Tooth

Seriously, my kid sounds like Cindy Brady.

I guess the tooth fairy better go hit up the ATM. 

Decide

I am far too pooped to blog anything tonight. I will say, however, that I cut a ton of lovely fabric today and expanded my growing knowledge of flanges and welts. Awesome!

I leave you with a tiny song and a tiny dog.

Decision Makers from josh cagan on Vimeo.

The Lion

This was hanging outside of the kiddo's classroom yesterday, along with a dozen other drawings of lions, drawn by the other kids in his 1st grade class. Please note that in my boy's drawing, the lion has a cape. And some sort of crown. WHICH IS AWESOME. Obviously.

They're coming right for us!

Mommy deer and her two babies were hanging out on the front terrace this evening when the boy and I got home from school, work, doggie day care and Five Guys tonight. It took her a few minutes, but mommy deer finally hauled ass down the stairs and through the Halloween decorations (that's a a glow-in-the-dark skeleton and a a severed hand hanging from that tree, FYI). Baby deers one and two followed; all the while Fizzy and Turkey Sandwich barked up a storm in their car crate in the back of the Subaru. Poor girls, tormented by the mean ol' deer.

That orange blob behind mommy deer is the top one of the awesome pumpkins that we got at the pumpkin farm in Half Moon Bay yesterday. We spent the afternoon with a good friend from school--climbing, pumpkin rearranging, solving a giant corn stalk maze. Much running around in piles of hay ensued. 

Hey! That's a lot of hay!

Bumper Crop

I picked me two of the finest specimens at the pumpkin patch!

Two solid hours of running through a corn stalk maze, climbing over walls of haystacks, and picking the perfect pumpkins. I know one kiddo (and one mommy) who will be sleeping very well tonight. 

Smells Like Old

I spent a good part of the day working with some particularly delicate velvet. Beautiful and luxurious, in deep, chocolaty tones, it reminded me of my old cat, Milhouse (the one on top). Then, in the afternoon, this came along:

This fabric was thick and coarse, and immediately made me think of my great-aunt and uncle on my father's side. It looked exactly like something I would expect to find in Aunt Rutho and Uncle Dewitt's apartment. Heavy, old, with some sort of back story, and the distinctly aged fragrance of and old person--not mothballs or good bond, but not perfume or food either. Just...age.

Peace Over Power

The kiddo had his first karate class this evening. It was more of a sample class to see if he likes it and if he would want to take regular classes. Sanctioned punching and kicking? Yes, please.

Now, let's see how long it takes until I can get him to paint the house or wax my car.

The Good, The Bad, and The Engrish

The unthinkable has finally happened. Over the weekend, I went online and bought the kiddo a toy gun. Granted, it's to go with his army guy costume for Halloween, so I could technically say that it's a theatrical prop. But man, you should have seen his face when the long, rectangular box from Amazon arrived at our house today--you never saw a happier almost-six-year-old. Plus, take a look at the charming box:

Overwhelmed...but this time by water

And there was glass protecting us, so we were really only overcome with sheer awesomeness.

At the living bay area of the Monterey Bay Aquarium over Labor Day weekend, also known as eons ago.

In the dictionary between "Exciting" and "Terrifying"

o·ver·whelm

ˌōvərˈ(h)welm/

verb

past tense: overwhelmed; past participle: overwhelmed

bury or drown beneath a huge mass.

"planning the coming week around my new work schedule is starting to overwhelm me to point of tears."

synonyms: swamp, submerge, engulf, bury, deluge, flood, inundate.

defeat completely.

"I am overwhelmed by this new work schedule."

synonyms: defeat (utterly/heavily), trounce, rout, beat (hollow), conquer, vanquish, be victorious over, triumph over, worst, overcome, overthrow, crush.

give too much of a thing too (someone); inundate.

"I am overwhelmed by the emotions brought on by this new job and its associated schedule."

have a strong emotional effect on.

"I am overwhelmed with guilt every time I think about how many hours I will be out of the house, away from my dogs and child."

synonyms: overcome, move, stir, affect, touch, strike, dumbfound, shake, devastate, floor, leave speechless

be too strong for; overpower.

"another glass of whiskey will overwhelm this general sense of overwhelmedness."

Day Three: Ain't Nobody Worryin'

To reward all of you wonderful people for supporting me and cheering me on as I take this giant step into the Next Phase of My Life, I will not blog about day three. That is my gift to you.

Also, this:

I love yous guys, and I want to hug all of you the way a weasel would hug his little weasel friend. Tightly, and in a mildly dominating manner. 

Top 5 Awesome Things About the Second Day of My New Job

1. I found a parking space right out front.

2. I got to make giant pillows out of this ikat.

3. My letter opener is a pocket knife with an engraving of a basketball player shooting the ball.

4. One of my new coworkers used some of the leftover mink from this ridiculously luxurious sectional to make a pair of underpants for herself.



5. I was done in time to pick Samson up from carpentry class and hear about how he used the brace drill.

Day One: Why Can't I Stop Crying?

I'm not going to say that everything went perfectly. Nor will I say that it was a horrible mess. Neither would be true.

My first day at my new job was many of the things one might expect from an adventure--new roads to navigate, new customs to learn and cultures to adapt to, excitement, oddities...and homesickness. Let's skip the part where I showed up 15 minutes late. Let's forget about the part where one of the seamstresses sewed through her finger. We'll even ignore the part where after 3.5 hours of training, I was tossed into the sea, left to sink or swim (spoiler alert: I slowly dog-paddled to safety.). Any way you slice it, I got to spend the day surrounded by beautiful fabric, creative people, and a sense of emotional freedom that I haven't felt since...I can't remember when. Still, as soon as I left the studio, the tears came and I couldn't hold them back. While I wandered around the Potrero Hill area, looking for the car I had parked this morning in a panicked frenzy, I cried. While I drove to the kiddo's soccer practice to catch the last 20 minutes of scrimmage, I cried. While a was getting attacked with leaps of love by the dogs, I cried. While I recounted the day's events to friends and family, I cried.

But now, as I record it all, sitting quietly under a gigantic full moon in my own backyard, the sobbing has subsided to mere sniffling. And even that is fading away.

Let's review. Today was my first day:

>at my brand new job as an office manager/pillow maker at a custom upholstery shop.
>as a full-time employee in over six years.
>commuting to San Francisco, not to mention that it was well before I would have normally been taking my 1st grader to school.
>actively living my life as a regular person who does not make decisions solely based on how many more months a neuro-oncologist (and statistics in general) told her she likely had left to live. Four years ago. And, for the record, he was way, way off.

Tiny Little Clothes Pins

"Come to think of it, I did wonder how they were going to fit fifty clothes pins into a reasonably-sized bag." said Max, after he opened his Amazon order and realized he had not noticed the "mini" part of the product description.

Real Life is Super Scary

Tomorrow is my last day at my current job. The job I've help for the last two years. At the company where I've worked, on and off (mostly on), for the last 14 years. It's hard to say goodbye to a stellar group of unbelievably fun people, and I yearn for the day when this transition is complete and I stand firmly in my new shoes, comfortable and confident in my new role in a new place. NEW=INCREDIBLY TERRIFYING. But the mere fact that I'm making this step proves that I have the confidence I need to live my life the way it is supposed to be lived: fully. And with every expectation that it will still be here tomorrow.

And the day after that.

And the week after that.

And the month after that.

And the year after that.

Best Buds

The exhibit hall opened at 7:30 east coast time this morning. PJ's, meet room service. I think you're going to become very good friends tonight.

Fanciest Bathroom Mirror In the World

OIN THE WORLD. 

Now I can watch Law & Order: SVU while I shower! Orlando, is there anything about you that's not awesome?

Love and Loss

Being in Orlando without going to Disney World is like:

>going to Benihana and not getting the chicken fried rice. 

>staying up late for the Perseid meteor shower and only seeing fog. 

>going to see Spinal Tap at the Fox Theater in Oakland when they're really only just phoning it in. 

Hello, I Must be Going

After an outrageously fun weekend camping with some great friends, I'm off to fabulous Orlando tomorrow to help out at a conference for a few days.

Expected Highlights

1. The Peabody Ducks
2. The Ice Bar
3. Finishing up the roll of film that I started over the weekend

Not So Super Awesome

1. The weather

More Contradictory Religousness

As far as I can tell, the kiddo's first AYSO game of the season is on Yom Kippur. We will be taking the Sandy Kofax route on this one. Yes, I will withhold my almost six-year-old from his first soccer game with an actual team (as opposed to last year, which was mostly just 40 kids runnning around together on a field--not that there's anything wrong with that. We loved bunchball last year!) because of my cultural Judaism. But then we'll have bacon cheese burgers for lunch--you know, and show my total disdain for the religous part of Judaism.

Happy New Year

Now, I'm not a religious person (understatement of the century). I take every opportunity to subtly show the kiddo how science and logic are standing quietly behind god's magic curtain (this is especially important if I hope to equalize the Jewish studies at his school). It's not that I don't think religion is important to childhood--but this is all fodder for a whole other post. 

Rosh Hashonah is a circular holiday. Tonight, one year ends and a new one begins. I want to say goodbye to a tough year--a fine year, a year or learning and growth, but a difficult and extremely challenging year nonetheless. And HELLO to a new, different, and adventurous year! L'shana Tova!

Well, it IS three times the bacon

What to get for the friend who has everything? Diabetes!

It's the part about the Pop-Tart ice cream sandwich being free with the super bacon cheeseburger combo meal that really makes speechless. That being said, I have nothing more to say.

Lock Down

Just before the joy and wonder that is the first grade, the kiddo spent four days fighting an up-and-down fever that ended up being strep throat. Clearly, he is not my child, even though I'm *pretty* sure I gave birth to him all those years ago.

For me, strep throat is an obvious sign that the world is coming to a painful and grisly end. I'm talking fire and brimstone. For the boy, strep throat goes like this: "My neck kinda hurts. Will you play Legos with me?"

The doctor gave him cold, yucky, pink amoxicillin. Dr. Mom prescribed copious amounts of cartoons and a tiny dog. 

Watch Your Back, First Grade

First Grade doesn't know what hit it. First Grade is all, whoa, man, what was THAT?! That, my dear First Grade, was forty-odd pounds of pencil-sharpening, snack-munching, lap-running, name-spelling DYNAMITE.

Good luck, First Grade. You're gonna need it. 

Level Up

My boy starts first grade tomorrow.

I'll give you a second to catch your breath. There you go.

After a house guest-filled weekend and a fever that just wouldn't go away (and ended up being strep throat!), he is pumped full of antibiotics and ready to dominate day one of first grade. He did confide in me that he's a little worried that first grade won't have magna blocks and that the toy situation in general will be "not super fun," but I have the feeling he'll be singing a different tune tomorrow afternoon.

Come back tomorrow for requisite cute first day of school picture!

New Besties

Fizzy has a fan club. Population: 1. 

What tower?

I kind of wish I could find a temporary tattoo of fog to cover up the Sutro Tower on my arm...

Bringing the Cute

Is there anything on god's green earth as adorable as a dog that desperately wants a piece of bacon?

I think we all know the answer to that. 

A Great Big Cheer for Six Great Years

Max and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary tonight with four of my favorite things: Thai food, salt water taffy, the kiddo, and a freak lightning storm. The three of us sat on the balcony, bellies full of red curry and fried bread, watching nature's fireworks over the Skyline hills, the taste of grape taffy still coating the sides of my tongue. Heaven on Earth, that's what that was.

It is now 40 minutes later. The kid is fast asleep and the dogs are trying to figure out how to remove themselves from the harnesses that arrived today from Amazon. Fizzy is attempting to rub hers off by way of the carpet (although she seems to have given up and is now curled up on Max's feet) and Turkey Sandwich is still trying to eat her way out of hers--it's comical, really, watching her try to maneuver her giant canine mandible through the yellow meshy chest piece. The only thing she's actually accomplishing is pushing herself backward in tiny increments until she almost falls over.

I just looked up from the keyboard to see her lying on her side, defeated (for now), and looking pretty pissed off in general. Did you know that dogs can glare?

Anger Level Reaching All-Time High

I hate the spiders. Which spiders? The spiders that are hiding somewhere either in my bed or my bra. Or perhaps they have some sort of elusive and well-planned attack route that makes them impervious to guard cats and loudly spoken curse words alike. The spiders that left me with THIRTEEN huge, welty bites in ONE NIGHT all over my upper torso area. IN ONE NIGHT. THIRTEEN. ARRRRRGH.

Only Madeline Kahn can accurately convey the hatred I feel toward these spiders, these evil and bitesy purveyors of pestulance, these tiny, psychopathic beasts.



I am Mrs. White and the spiders are my Evette. Flames!

Tick Tock

The kiddo is starting first grade in two weeks.

Hold on a sec...let me wipe away my tears. OK.

Ah, the joy of being a grader. I imagine it's a lot like kindergarten, but with less finger painting and more arithmetic. Maybe he'll start getting homework assignments. Maybe he'll have to study for a test. He has been expressing a healthy amount of anxiety, but tonight he is nothing but excited about his new Buster Posey lunch box and back pack.

We're excited to find out who his teacher will be, and which of his classmates from last year will be there with him. And if course, to find out which day is matzo ball soup and bagel day on the hot lunch menu.

We Went Camping!

It was great and outdoorsy. More to come. 

Cheating on my true love

Don't tell Benihana, but were having dinner at Koto tonight. It feels dirty and wrong. 

No Blog Tonight

No blog tonight. Instead, this:

Songs About Kittens and World Domination

When the kiddo was singing a song the other day, he was using his annoying made-up language voice. Instead of trying to explain how annoying that specific creative outlet is to me, I asked him what his song was about and encouraged him to come up with some English lyrics.

What followed was a lyrical masterpiece about a race of super kittens who rise up to defeat and enslave humans, thus taking over the world. I'm pretty certain that this one will be on his greatest hits album, and covered by many of the young independent rock bands of his time.

No, YOU are awesome

One of the funnest parts of being a parent is witnessing your kid's earnest attempt at performing a task that we do regularly without a second thought, especially when you can see the logic behind the process. It's clear that the wheels are turning, the right parts are connecting, there's just a little fine tuning yet to be done. Today's example: writing a note. 

At Five Guys yesterday, the kiddo wanted to post a note on the customer comment board, letting them know how much he enjoys their tasty burgers and salty peanuts. 

Translation: You are awesome Five Guys.

Also, those are sparkles, to show that he's serious. 

Mother Knows Best

Sure, leaving the nest isn't exactly the same as losing their first tooth, but mommy bird who lives in the front yard and I are sharing the pain of growing children today. 

Sigh. 

More thoughts on losing the tooth

Samson's tooth had been loose for barely two days before it fell out yesterday afternoon. And by "fell" I mean "might as well have been yanked out by a rogue tooth fairy who was hopped up on goof balls." He had been very cautious, chose gooey foods over crackers or carrots, and made sure to brush his teeth VERY GENTLY. I was sure he had another week before that little gem came out. 

And then, as per usual, the "do as I say, not as I do" clause bit us in the ass.

We were building a massive Lego tower--I mean MASSIVE. Around the third floor, we started to run out of sixers and eighters, so we scavenged through the big ol' box 'o random Legos looking for parts to reuse. There, practically glued to a flat base, were the last two pieces we needed. The kiddo went right work, using the most effective Lego-prying tool known to man...and pop, no more loose front tooth. 

My parents always told me never to use my teeth as deconstruction tools (I don't know, something about them paying thousands of dollars for orthodontic work in the 80's), and I have been sure to tell my own boy that he should heed this advice, and that teeth are for chewing and brushing. But sometimes, the tamper-proof plastic wrapping on the unopened bottle of soy sauce needs to be removed and a sharp knife is, like, at LEAST ten feet away. And kids see EVERYTHING. 

The moral of the story? Laziness makes your kids' teeth fall out slightly prematurely.