Ta Da!!

Countdown

I have less than 5,000 words to go and about 38 hours to get there.  I can hear those boots tapping their toes up in the closet.  They are getting impatient to be on my feet!  The only question now is argyle or stripes for the socks?

I do not think it matters that I have resorted to age old National Novel Writing Month tricks to pad my word count.  Only one wacky dream sequence.  Only two scenes with characters sitting over a beer or a coffee offering up a few pages of their life histories each.  Yes, there are a few instances of people answering a question by repeating the question before they answer it.  But it is all part of the character development and vital to the plot.  Sort of.  Vital to my plot anyway!  And I did not start avoiding contractions and acronyms like the plague until late last night.  

Next post when I blow past 50,000!

The Sprint to the Finish

Moose and his father have the cygnets out of the house for the day which was meant to give me time to write and reach 50,000 words.  So far, I have managed to re-clean an already clean house.  I love to go back over my house after it is clean and hit stuff I never have time for on a daily basis.  I had to put on sunglasses to wash a few things at my sink because the sun coming in the south facing window was so bright!  The plants are all dusted and the upper oven is self-cleaning.  Floors are done (does anyone else mop after their guests leave instead of before they arrive?).  The rock collection is rearranged and dusted.  And as tempted as I am to wash the kitchen windows and lemon oil my cabinets...I think I will save those fun tasks as rewards.  Then I can do them in my new boots that are waiting up high in Moose's closet!

So now I finally have myself hunkered down in the library to write.  I am next to a north-facing window, camped out on the backgammon/chess table.  I have an antique china plate of Dare Maple Leaf cookie and a bottle of San Pellegrino.  I have a big floppy dog keeping my feet warm and two more snoring to keep me company.  There is a lovely mix playing on Pandora.  I am looking at the shelves full of all of our family's favorite things.  As tempted as I am to give you a tour of it right now (you will love Miss M's needle felted model of the human brain) I am aware that that would be considered stalling as well.  What is this fear of finishing something?  I am not going to answer that...I am going to finish so I don't even have to consider it!

Happy Pie Day!

We have a little tradition around here the day before Thanksgiving.  It is called Pie Day.  I get together with two of my friends/neighbors and we bake all the pies for all of our dinners the next day.  We stick with the traditionals: pumpkin, pecan, and apple.  B (which might as well stand for Baker Supreme) makes all the crusts ahead of time.  J is a potter, so she does the fancy crust work.  And me?  I mix up some mighty fine fillings.  

And tomorrow, when we are all sitting around the table enjoying three beautiful and tasty pies, I will once again be thankful for neighbors who feel more like family than friends.  I love you both!

Next up: Cookie Day!  See you in December!

Refugees

Dear displaced arachnids,

Please don't be alarmed.  We are only temporarily relocating you.  While the frenzy around the house today may feel like a genocide to you, it is only some event-based cleaning.  We are celebrating Thanksgiving here.  Are you familiar with that holiday?  

While your webs (and the goodies trapped in them) have been removed for the time being, you are welcome to rebuild them at a later date in a yet-to-be-determined corner of your former domain.  And because I want you to know how much I appreciate your help in the past with the other pesky bugs, you can have...one corner in the basement and any space in the garage you would like...until I need to move you again so I don't get the sticky webbing stuck in my mittens.  

Happy Thanksgiving, 

Alpha Mama

"Those Questions In a Mother's Mind"

My father-in-law just gave me a booklet from 1957 "Published for mothers by Personal Products Corporation...makers of Modess and Teen-Age by Modess."  On the back it says "lithographed in the U.S.A."  I LOVE IT!!  And I love him for thinking of me and Miss M and recognizing that "No doubt about it, these are pretty good days to be a mother or a daughter."  He handed it to me and said that he thought it was probably information I already knew but that this might help me talk to Miss M about growing up.  The man is 83.  Is that not the cutest thing ever?

The book is a fun read.  I liked the part about what to do if your daughter seems to be ready for information but she is not asking questions (that has NEVER been a problem at our house).  The makers of Modess and Teen-Age by Modess recommend dropping little hints (keep it casual) such as:

Leaving out my box of Modess where they can be seen.

Asking her to remind me to buy toothpaste and Modess sanitary napkins at the store.

Mention that the reason I am not swimming in the lake is that it is the first day of my monthly period.  (I grew up watching Cathy Rigby on TV doing gymnastics in a white leotard during her period so the whole not swimming during my time thing cracks me up!)

An excellent way to begin the conversation is by giving her a box of Teen-Age by Modess. 

Which only makes me think of other clever ways to work in some product placement:

Put some in a little basket at the dinner table so I can ask her to please pass the Modess.

When I fold the laundry I can discreetly line all of her undergarments for her with Teen-Age by Modess.

We could have a craft day and decoupage Modess dispensers for the bathrooms.

I could tuck Modess sanitary napkins in all of her pockets so she is always prepared.

It reminded me of when my big Sis and my friend Amy's big Sis were going through some changes.  Amy and I took one of every kind of sanitary item we could find in our houses and put them to the test.  We cut them all in half, made blue water with food coloring, and dipped everything in them to see how much liquid they could hold.  We even dipped in a piece of sidewalk chalk and snapped it in half like the Colgate commercial.  My, how we are colored by advertisements.  

 The best part of the whole book is the illustrations.  Everyone looks seriously depressed.

Alexander Booth is a fine painter, but it looks like the man was surrounded by some serious PMS.   

And since we are our daughter's best teacher, keep in mind that "it is no coincidence that mothers who complain about menstrual pain often have daughters who develop pain too.  Mothers too tired to move during their periods have daughters following the same patterns.  And mothers who remain cheerful and calm usually find that their daughters do, too."  

I knew it!  Everything wrong with me IS my mother's fault.  But wait...that means...Miss M...

I'll start dropping dollars in the therapy jar tomorrow.

Dear Daughter,

Three weeks ago you invented Socialism.  Really.  You had it all planned out.  I didn't have the heart to tell you that the origins of your idea date back close to 200 years in Western Europe.  But I imagine the intelligencia of that age sitting around coffeehouses discussing the ills of the Western world and trying to find a peaceful alternative.  Not unlike, I imagine, what you and the brothers do when you are discussing how to set up peace and order in Kid Town.  (Kid Town is the squatters settlement spreading across my basement.  I had to apply for a travel visa to cross their territory in order to get to the laundry.  Was kind of hoping that would get caught up in bureucratic red tape for a couple of months.  But no, since what they wanted out of the deal was access to the Wii up on the grown-up level of the house it got pushed through with the speed of a presidential pardon.)  

Similar to those first French, English, and German Philosophers, you have come up with some practical ways to implement your ideals.   All of which are very commendable.  My advice to you those weeks ago was to think of where your plan might run into problems and how other people might find ways to manipulate the system for their own benefit.

So now you have come to me with a possible problem: distribution of wealth.  You would like your brothers to have equal purchasing power to you, but their income is far more limited because they do not babysit and their savings are depleted because they feed their demons when they start jonesing for new legos.  Your solution: loan sharking.  Yup.  This is what you came up with.  You will loan them money for what they want to buy which they would be expected to repay by a certain date plus extra.  (So what you seem to be working on now is a hybrid of Socialism and Capitalism.  You should check out Canada and Sweden.)  And when they can't repay you?  You will repossess the legos.  When I asked you about how will you ensure that they have the means to repay you, you sat quietly for a bit.  "I suppose that would be important."  Yes, dear, it is important.  And when you figure out the answer I will send you to Washington to help them all figure it out too.

In the meantime, here is my old copy of B.F. Skinner's Walden Two.  What is incredible to think about is that this was written just a few years after World War 2.  The world was just beginning recovery from the most horrendous crises and so the thought of a peaceful future must have felt like a promise of love.  What I think you will especially like about the book is the application of scientific principles to human behavior in an effort to solve our problems.  I can't wait to see what you think of it...and what it makes you think of next!

M is for...

...mmmm Moose Muffins!

 Moose has a cute new habit.  If you can't stomach a tale of domestic male prowess then skip over this one.  When the last few bananas are overripe he quietly makes muffins.  He waits until the kids are in bed and he sneaks down to the kitchen and makes muffins while his doppleganger is cobbling shoes in the workshop for the little old shoemaker next door.

In the morning the cygnets roll downstairs, rubbing their eyes and pushing matted nests of hair out of their faces.  And what do they find?  Magic Moose Muffins!  They love it.

Know what I like?  I like sneaking a warm muffin before going to bed.  Oh, and not having to make breakfast for my cerealphobic babies.  

Thanks, Moose!

Little C is learning to read.  And because he likes to be a little tricksey as well, he has taken to spelling some things backwards.  On purpose.  And he is reading his books upside down.  How very Seuss of him!  

The other night when Moose got home from the office Little C ran up to him and said, "I figured out how to read, dick."  It made more sense when he showed his dad the Dick and Jane book he had been working on.  It was still funny.

Also, Little C has a bit of an accent.  We don't know why.  His J's sound French.  He rolls his R's.  There is a hint of Hogwarts about him.  It is a sad commentary to admit I think he learned part of it from the drive up ATM.  But it makes listening to him read a complete joy!

And now he is sounding out our names phonetically when he wants our attention instead of just saying Mom or Dad.

I answer to Mmm--aah--mmm.

Moose responds to Duh--ah--duh, which makes me giggle!

Ah, yes, the name

Because Anne Taintor is very funny.  

www.annetaintor.com 

we have a diagnosis!

So, my back pain is not Spinal Meningitis, Glomerulonephritis, or Spondylolisthesis.

It is simply, poor writing posture. This rare, un-retouched photo offers some of the first evidence in the case. It also points toward a direct correlation between these new wrinkles between my eyes and the increase in my writing.

Prescription: Find a new favorite writing place with improved ergonomic arrangement, and add an extra yoga class.

Prognosis: The back should be better by the end of the week.  But I am afraid the outlook for the wrinkles is not so favorable.

WPM

So the phone rang and the UPS truck came and....a few other excuses.

It doesn't mean I bailed on my quest to quantify.  I just adjusted the time frame.  So I write, off the top of my head with no real plan (or plot), about 28 words a minute.

FYI, if I was writing this for word count I would have spelled out 28.  And FYI.  Every little bit helps!

NaNo challenge

Moose has a friend that is totally into spreadsheets.  Freakishly into them, I mean.  Now, I am all for some fun with statistics, but it feels cold to me to approach the world by quantifying and ranking it all.  But whatever, it works for him.  And since I also bet that he is never late with ANYTHING, I am going to try something.  I am going to write furiously for an hour and see what my WPM rate is.  

I am starting at 29,104 at 1:44.

I am setting the timer.

GO!

This will not end well

Have you all heard of these cake-in-a-mug recipes?  Basically, they are short, little recipes that you mix and microwave right in a coffee mug.  There are many varieties.  The one in my microwave right now uses hot cocoa mix as the base.  Hello?  Does anyone else sense the danger?  Does anyone else see the potential for abuse here?  In 4 minutes from start to stomach I can have a serving (ok, 2 servings) of hot chocolate cake.  No evidence--as long as I crack a window to vent the aroma before the kids get home.  

The concept appeals to my inner "Easy Bake Oven" genes.  It is not quite as simple as the stir-and-eat ease of "Baby Alive" baby food, but OMG, this cake is super yummy.  

if only...

Does this ever happen to you?  A situation presents itself, you have an opportunity to respond, and you do so appropriately.  Of course it does.  

But do you ever step away from the situation and think of things you wish you had the nerve to say?  Of course you do.  

This afternoon my doorbell rang twice in a row.  Standing outside was a nice looking but chilly young man handing out flyers for tree trimming services.

He says: We are in your neighborhood today and I see you have a stump.

I say: Yes. My kids play on it.

He says: Do you have any trees you would like us to look at.

I say: No thank you.  Have a nice day.

He says: Thanks.

So now I am thinking about things I could have said instead.

Comment A

He says: ...I see you have a stump.

I say:

...(feigned surprise) I have a what?  Where?  What the heck happened to my tree?!

...(I pull one arm inside my sleeve) EXCUSE ME?!

...Yes, but he is at the office right now.

Comment B

He says: Do you have any trees you would like us to look at?

I say:

...The trees are fine, but I think something is wrong with my doorbell, it just rang twice.

...No, but the bean grinder is stuck in my coffee maker.  Can you fix it?

...Sure.  You can look at my Magnolia and my American Butternut.  Just don't touch them.

Overheard at a Mexican Restaurant...

...if you were at a table next to us tonight.

"This isn't good food, mom.  It is cheesy and fantastic!"  And after learning the Spanish word for "fantastic", Little C said "fantastico" in a variety of voices for about 27 minutes straight.

"Wanna hear a joke?" says Big C.  We all reply in the affirmative.  "So this guy walks up to a counter full of candy jars.  All of the lids say 25 cents.  The guy pays the person a quarter and picks a jar and then he dumps all the candy on the floor.  The person says, 'Hey! What are you doing?'  And the guy replies, 'What? The price on the jar was 25 cents!'  Ha!  Get it!  He thought he was buying the jar!"  (He made that one up on the fly.  It helps that he is half-way through reading The Complete Far Side.  Sort of gives him a point of reference.)

Miss M: Hey mama?

Mama: Yes M?

Miss M: When we get home can we cuddle up and brainstorm?

Mama: Yes, baby.

Not to be missed on the walls of this restaurant are some very colorful murals.  Colorful palettes and colorful subject matter.  My favorite one is the two singing caballeros.  However, tonight we sat near the Aztec temple.  The scene is from a mountain top, looking down on this very geometrically laid out town with walls and pyramids.  On this mountaintop are two people.  An almost-clad young woman kneeling, and a sort-of covered young warrior standing over her, with a shield and what I think is a club of some sort.  I have always wondered if she was a captive or an offering.  The context is a bit limited so it is hard to say for certain.  So...Little C and Big C are staring at the mural and crunching chips with their mouths open (they have stuffy noses so I cut them some slack).  The people around us start giggling at the sight of these two young boys assumed to be ogling the young captive/offering.  Then the following comments come from the boys:

First Little C says, "Mama?  Look at her.  By the bottom part.  Do you think that rock she is sitting on is the top of the mountain?"  Big C follows up with a running commentary on the symmetry of the settlement.  Wondering what this civilization was and what materials they used to build their dwellings.  Were they sand or stone?  Did they build them the same way as the Egyptians and were the pyramids as big as the ones in Giza?  I LOVE MY NERDLINGS!!!!!

Care to elaborate?

Saw this on Family Guy this week.  Moose and I laughed to the point of tears!

I looked outside this morning and saw Geneva in the yard.  She was lounging quite regally in the leaves, holding an apple in her paws with a bite out of it.  I bolted for the camera and then tried to sneak up on her.  Alas, she is a tricky beast to stalk.  Neva starting tearing around the yard.  She was racing back and forth and would only stop to catch her breath hiding behind a tree.  But I was determined this time.  I hid the camera behind my back and then called her.  Just as she reached the top of the hill I pulled it out and snapped a picture!  But of what?  She is sticking her tongue out at me!  But I have her soul trapped in my camera now, so I guess we're even.

Boo!

Before anyone else points out how I have neglected my middle dog, I would like to present evidence that I have, in fact, tried to get a good picture of her.  Moose is convinced that Geneva fears I am trying to steal her soul when I pull out the camera.  She cowers and hides.  The only way I managed to get this picture is by shutting her out of my room so she couldn't scoot under the bed.  So she ran past me and slid in among other black, four-legged creatures instead.  My kitchen table and chairs are like a herd of zebra for her!  She is nothing like Tanner in that regard.  Tanner was a starlet in a former life.  When any camera comes out she senses it and gets in the frame.  We have hours of baby video footage with her walking back and forth through the shot.

The thing is, it would be easy to get a shot of her and toss it on here.  But I want one that does her justice.  Geneva is so very beautiful.  She is silky soft and shiny so most pictures have a lot of reflection and high contrast.  In her panic she ends up looking like a deer in the head lights: ears pinned back, eyes wide, the terror easy to read in the photo blurred by her trembling.  

I will keep working on a better picture of her if you all (and by "you all" I mean the three people who read my blog) will remain patient.  

Mission Accomplished!

I mean the boot selection mission, not that I hit 50,000 words yet.

I am now accepting gifts of funky knee socks to wear with my boots.  And tiaras!

Thank you!

Help!

Frye...Via Spiga...Frye...Via Spiga?  Maybe Born?  I am also open to suggestions.  I am thinking mid-calf, black harness boots.  No pointy toes.  I love my feet too much to make them suffer!

ahead of schedule at the half-way point!

I just broke the 25,000 word mark!  My plot and subplots are moving nicely even though I am not sure how it is all going to wrap up.  The characters are all still alive which means I didn't have to pull out a catastrophic event to move things along either.  But the best part is I get to go ahead with my reward!  As a secondary motivation (the first being to avoid your ridicule) I am ordering myself a pair of kickin' boots!  But Moose has to promise to hold the box until midnight on the 30th and he has permission to return the package should I not finish.  Now comes the hard part...picking out the exact pair I want!  

reason #13...

...it is nice to have all three kids in one school: they all catch the same germs at about the same time.  Yep, all of them are some sick today.  By my estimate we have 6 infected sinus cavities, 1 ear infection, 3 persistent coughs, and 4 pink and gooey eyes.  (And I am not even thinking about my yucky symptoms yet.)

I'll be taking all of my calls at the doctor's office today.  Just ask for the lady camping out in the waiting room...crying.

...breaking news...

(Well, it is to me.)  I am doing some investigating this afternoon (also called procrastinating if you are being a pessimist but I am allowed a bit after passing 20,000 words) and I checked on Pat Benatar.  Now that I am spelling her name correctly, I should let you know that she is up to something.  A few things, in fact.  There was a greatest hits type compilation release his past summer.  There is a current tour.  And she was just inducted into the Long Island Music Hall of Fame.  While this is not the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, it is still deserving of some Kudos.  I guess.  

This does not explain the Kim Carnes resurgence.  So I did a little more research.  The alien explanation can only cover so many mysteries.  And since we have already used it to cover the kindergarten teacher's third eye (really) I thought I should search for a more plausible answer.  According to her website, she is also an artist who will custom make greeting cards with abstracted children's faces on them for you.  Some people like that kind of thing.  There is also a new album, but it is only on her website as far as I can tell.  Nothing to explain the strange occurrences. 

So then I checked on Ms. Bette Davis herself.  And now that I am spelling her name correctly as well, she would be 100 years old this year.  AND there is a new postage stamp with her picture on it.  I think that trumps the Long Island Music Hall of Fame.  Sorry, Pat.  It was unveiled on October 16.  Just about a week before I started hearing the song.  So either they are trying to sell stamps and have some PR geek calling radio stations in his jammies to request the song, or my alien theory has just reached a whole new level of suspicious.  They have control of the US Postal Service now too.

"My passions were all gathered together like fingers that made a fist.  Drive is considered aggression today; I knew it then as purpose."  Bette Davis

Update:

In reference to October 24th post:

It is still happening.  Last night driving home from class-->Betty Davis Eyes.  For some strange reason I could understand lyrics very clearly.  Must be the sound system in Moose's truck (unless it is some crazy coded message trying to enslave the human race and they just adjusted the fine tuning).  I still don't care for the song.  And then, this morning-->Pat Benetar.  STILL?  I have been having to flip channels because of her for weeks now.  She must be having a 50th birthday or something because I haven't seen her pulling a Britney on Perez's website.  The only other thing I can figure is she has a new album coming out.  I hate to say it, but I am sort of hoping it is on a production schedule that would make Gun's N Roses look like Speedy Gonzales.

Is any one else noticing these disturbing musical trends?  

The GT Reunion Tour

I met an old friend for lunch today.  She's not old, the friendship is.  28 years old, actually.  She is one of my favorite people ever.  Catching up with her is effortless.  Probably because we know each other's backstory.  There is no time wasted on explaining things to death.  We would be considered "very high context characters" among the literati.  And yet we can talk non-stop for hours and hours and still feel like there is so much more to say that we had better have lunch again soon.  

She was my partner in crime back in the day.  All of my Junior High Plotting was done with her.  We pissed off our Gym Teachers when we campaigned to be allowed to choose wrestling during an elective unit.  We even wrote a letter to the editor at Verne Gagne's (that's Verne up there posing!) Pro Wrestling Report and got PUBLISHED!!  That really made them mad.  Having a mild crush on the teacher/wrestling coach had nothing to do with it!

We also learned valuable life lessons about Freedom of Speech, Freedom of the Press, and the Right to Plea the Fifth Amendment to avoid incriminating oneself during our stint on the school paper.  We wrote a scathing report on the quality of the school lunches and published it anonymously.  The lunch ladies pressured the English Teacher to tell them who wrote it and she protected her reporters like any editor would.  When the lunch ladies spent a full week staring down and questioning the newspaper staff in the lunchroom, no one ratted us out.  What, exactly, we were afraid they would do to us I am not sure.  It was the principle of the matter.

Oh, and we got kicked out of the church children's choir together.  Our director told us, I am not joking, that she was as close to God as you could get so we had better be respectful.  Well, what could we do with that?  Of course we pointed out the flaws in her argument.  That ex-nun needed knocking down a few pegs and we were just the gals for the job.  At least we had made it through the Rogers and Hammerstein Review.  I sing those songs all the time!  Yah, we thought that ex-nun music director (who lived with Miss. R, our sixth grade teacher...hmmm?) was re-living her failed dreams through us too.  She would have been a happier person had she run away to Broadway with a lady-friend instead of running to the convent.

Once, when my friend was home alone, she called me because she had heard a noise like someone in the basement.  I was also home alone.  But I grabbed a steak knife and rode my bike over there (in the days when nobody wore helmets and a girl on a bike with a knife in her hand didn't shock anyone) and we searched the house together.  I would even get up early and walk to her house to french braid her hair in the morning before school.  I still have my souvenirs from the US Hockey Hall of Fame and Iron World Museum from the trip where we spent days on an inner tube in the lake and even proved that Ivory soap can, in fact, sink.  

All of our major milestones have happened together, even when those milestones pointed us in different directions.  We went from Cabbage Patch Kids and bicycles to first boyfriends and cars.   From college to marriage to motherhood.  We talk about our parents and our sisters and our friends and our husbands and our kids.  About our own bad decisions and the good ones too.  There is something very wonderful about connecting with an old friend.  I feel all sassy and 13 again.  I highly recommend it!

NaNo update

I blew past 18,000 words today without realizing it.  18,453 to be exact.  I would like to think that the "not noticing" part was because I was in a zone.  A little zen-like bubble of writing bliss.  Or perhaps, that my characters were telling me the story as I merely typed.  Not so.  The fog is from sleep deprivation masked by lots of espresso.  

One Short Day

So it is STILL great the second time around.  This time we took the kids along.  Big C, being both sensitive and intense, was crying after the First Act.  Will Elfaba get away safely?  What happens to Fiyero?  Is Glenda good or bad?  That big head is LOUD.  Oh!  the suspense of intermission!  But in the car ride home he was not only quoting dialog, but explainifying it for us all.   And oh, for the love of Broadway, Little C here's the deal: your bladder can defy gravity for an entire day at school without using the potty, why do you have to go twice during a 3 hour show?  And, Miss M, it is fiction.  Not only that, it is a stage production of a fiction based on a whole body of fiction.  How much more fantasticality can fit in there? This might conflict with the way your giant brain wants to piece it all together, but not all of it is logicalicified.  I did especially like you quoting the original Baum book for the nice family in front of us.  Hey, Moose, maybe I can sit by you at dinner since our plans were thwarted by the nice (and very tall) family in front of the children.

Thank you, my pretties, for a fun experience.  I was thrilled to share it with you.  It was Wicked Good!

NaNo NaNo

I went well over the 10,000 word mark yesterday.  Might explain the slacking today!  But it felt great.  Like a really long run.  Today's work out will have to be a sprint.  A short one.  The kind with ice cream at the end.

Garmin Garmin Bo Barmin

Most of you might not know this about me but I have a hideous sense of direction.  Left and Right I have down pretty well, but the N-S-E-W thing is a little sketchy.  Maps only serve to confuse me.  You see, I do not have an internal compass.  Not true.  I have the internal moral guidance kind of compass.  I do not have the kind that will get me to a birthday party on time.  

In my brain, the places I go are like spots around a circle.  To make matters worse, they seem to be in a random order.  Now my house is in the middle.  To connect my house to any place I like to go there is a spoke.  If I stay on the spokes I am all good.  If I need to get from one end point to another end point I am not so good.  Sometimes, I am embarrassed to admit, I have to drive home before I can go to my next destination.  If I am lucky, then I only have to go back part of the way.

I know the names of the roads and highways but the picture of them in my head never matches any of the maps the Moose puts in my car.  I am usually reduced to calling him in a panic trying to tell him where I am so he can talk me through it.  So dear, thoughtful Moose that he is, he bought me a GPS for the minivan.  (Yes I drive a minivan.  My ego is strong enough to handle it.  Is yours?)  

I call her Miss Helena Handbasket.  It would appear that someone had pre-programmed that in as my final destination.  She tries to be helpful.  We usually get along for about two weeks at a time.  And then she starts with the "recalculating" and the "turn left ahead...turn left now...what is wrong with you?  I said left.  LEFT!"  I am certain she finds me frustrating.  I can hear her eyes rolling and the exasperated sighs.  Then there is the little matter of the road construction that she is always running me into.  Minor detours that end up lasting an hour.  It's ok.  I can always call Moose as a back-up plan.  But the sheer drop into the river?  I am not kidding.  Miss Helena tries to run me off a cliff every chance she gets.  I think my Garmin is programmed for revenge.

But she also finds me coffee.  

And sushi.  

So you see, I am naturally feeling a little torn about the whole thing.  But I am willing to compromise.  I am going to practice with her in Map Mode when I know where I am going.  Perhaps this will help to redraw the Wagon Wheel thing I have going on.  But I need her to try too.  Miss Helena, please use your powers for good.  No more cliffs, ok?  This is a mini van.  Not Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

November 4, 2008

These are my children.  These are my children looking.  These are my children looking and imagining.  These are my children looking and imagining a better world.  These are my children seeing it and feeling the excitement as they watch History being made!  

P.S.  Like most grade schools around the country, ours had a mock election today.  Little C voted for a national senatorial candidate because he had the same name as the dog next door.  Thankfully, there was not a Keno/Pebbles team running for president!  Although they would have carried one very small cul-du-sac in our district.

P.P.S.  My word count is WAY head on NaNoWriMo!  The plan is to break the 10,000 word mark tomorrow.  

Thank you Thank you Thank you

Do you ever have guests over and when they leave you feel like you should send them a Thank You note?  My dearest Dr. Fancypants and her Boy just left after a great 4 day visit.  Dr. Fancypants is like super-woman to me.  She is a vet and an artist and a mama.  And she doesn't just do these things.  She excels at them all.  Our whole pack loves it when they come to visit.  Except Olly.  He can't quite figure out why the Vet is here and why she is not leaving.

Dr. Fancypants sometimes feels like she does not have enough girl in her life.  Miss M is more than happy to fill the void.  Their new routine is DFP teaches Miss M how to cook incredible food and then we have a party.  Last night P&K came for dinner.  And, again, I feel like I should send them a Thank You note for we SO thoroughly love the time we get to spend with them.  Plus, they brought sweets! 

There is one more note-worthy item from this weekend.  It is November and that means NaNoWriMo.  This is the beginning of my second attempt at writing a 50,000 word novel in a month.  Technically, it is more of a 50,000 word first draft in a month.  If you haven't heard of it, look up www.NaNoWriMo.org and check it out.  Last time I tried it, I was pregnant and had two young bambinos.  Squeaking out a couple hours a day seemed perfectly simple on November 1st.  It did on the 2nd and 3rd too.  But then I lost it.  Someone was home sick from school and I got sick and Moose got sick (which means the mama gets no sleep).  By the time Thanksgiving rolled in I was so far behind on the word count that there was no point in trying to make it up.  But this year it is different.  Finding the time is really feasible.  I have been practicing for a couple weeks by wearing a watch.  I even look at it periodically.  Actually, I have calculated out that I can still get to yoga and find 2.75 hours in the middle of the day to hit my mark.  Anything I am short on can be rounded off before bed.  Day one went well.  Day two will start after I post this and cut my nails.  But I bring it up here because I am giving you all permission to harass me if I am slacking.  Oh, and the right to needle me incessantly should I not finish.  But it also means, that when I do finish, you may have to tolerate/suffer my gloating for a bit.  This also serves to explain in advance the tiara I will be wearing around on December first!

research project

I have been collecting evidence to disprove a hypothesis.  This is the scientific method, right?  The hypothesis is that Big C is not an 8 year old.  He is a 58 year old.  Yesterday added some empirical evidence to both columns.

He was being goofy with friends when I got to his classroom for the Halloween party and blew off his mama.  8.

He decided he had enough candy after 10 houses and asked to go home to re-read a library book before it gets returned.  58.

When the rest of the kids got home he dove into his candy and traded and gorged with the rest of them.  8.

Recognizing that he had less than the other kids, he sorted and ranked his loot to ration it.  He was not bothered in the least that he had far less.  He was happy for them that their piles were large.  58.

So I am no closer to an answer today.  This is sort of the pattern his life takes and it has since he was a baby.  It is his nature.  And I guess my job is to nurture him with respect to that nature to be the best person he can be at 8 so he will be the best person he can be at 58.  

Big C was my treat yesterday.