baby girl

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I came across this picture of Miss M while searching for a baby photo to send in for the yearbook.

I love the expression on her face in this picture: open and inviting, with a healthy dose of smirk. 

It is pretty close to the look on her face when she was born.  This might be TMI for some, so just stop if you need to.  Look at the cute photo and go on with your day.  But Miss M was born with her eyes open and she spent the next several hours very quietly watching everything with those huge eyes.  How funny that she was already so much of who she would become in those early moments.     

And this is the giant creature she has grown into.  She had positioned herself on this park bench to subtly blend into the background.  Because she is always looking at things she is the kind of kid who recognized her clothes matched the bench and sidewalk.  And she did it with a smirk.  

I love how she thinks: about the world, about others, and about herself.  She makes me smirk!

chtshan!

I am making soup for diner.  Some combination of French Onion and 7 Mushroom Tarragon.  Thinking about homemade croutons with white truffle oil.  Thin slice of Gruyere floating on top.  Mmmmm. 

What?  Why did I swear in the title of this post?  Well...burning one's cleavage tends to elicit a few choice words--it is a tender spot.  I flicked some onion off the spoon and it went down my blouse and STUCK to me!!  It was close to caramelized and blazing hot with butter.  What I can't figure out is how it got so far in there it burned both of my girls!  They are pushed up and together without much room in there.  Must have been the butter.  Slid right in before it seared my flesh.

What?  You didn't catch the cuss word?  Well...it is sort of an inside joke between me and, um, seems like myself.  

(Reference December 30th post plus comments.)

I feel a hiss coming on...

Someone has sent me an email about aprons.  About all the things they were used for (pot holders and wiping noses and keeping dresses tidy) like they were the dearest items that bound together the home and family instead of an oversized dish towel you tied on so as not to loose it.  It got a little preachy and rather snotty when it came to criticizing young mothers for not wearing aprons anymore and for buying pies.  I am not exactly sure, it was hard to read while my eyes were rolling.  But it has left me wondering about what messy cooks they all must have been because I don't get dirty making dinner.  And also, not everyone can make a good pie.  I have quite recently politely poked at a homemade pie with soggy, pale crust and a jaw-locking amount of sugar in the filling.  No apron would have saved that dessert.  There is no shame in buying pie!

Once in a while there is a chain-letter telling me (and 100,000 other people) how unique and wonderful I am--pass it on!  Some of them are about how great life used to be.  Which seems like an odd thing to send to someone who wasn't around yet when things were so fabulous.  "Look how precious and sweet life was before you were born.  [Sigh]"  It is always nice to hear about how my generation is messing everything up from the people who messed it all up for the generation before them.  Several have had pictures of cats saying things in little speech bubbles.  Sometimes the cats dance.  Or pray.  I guess it makes as much sense as anything else. 

No one seems to care anymore who their audience is.  No one had to buy a stamp to send it so they will just keep rolling into my inbox.  There was a whole rash of anti-liberal-themed ones AFTER the presidential election.  Not trying to change my mind about anything.  Not trying to impact my decision at the voting booth.  Just complaining with a "wait and see" added for good measure.  A sort of "I am telling you now so I can say I told you so later and STILL feel like I am right and you are wrong" tone to them.  But me and my liberal pals have been complaining for the past 8 years so I guess it is their turn.  

Rarely do I forward one along.  If I do, it is usually done with a sarcastic comment or an "lol!" to Moose at work.  But I did forward one to my sister today that my cousin had sent me.  It was about horrible bacteria that will eat your breast flesh if you don't wash your new sweat-shop-made bras before wearing them.  She is still breast feeding a most precious baby and I couldn't bear the thought of the infantina contracting the disease!  Big Sis ran it through some sort of "truth meter" web site which has said the email is a hoax.  (She should run that "dinosaurs were on this planet alongside people and were all killed off by Noah's flood" story through there.)  I still ignored the Dry Clean Only label and put my new Calvin Klien Sweater Dress through the dryer once anyway just to be safe.  I happen to have fantastic boobers and the mere thought of them rotting off my body is enough to make me bathe in Listerine.  I have to find that web site because I have a long list of things to run through it.  I wonder if they have looked at the apron one yet.

P.S. If you are a forwarder...please learn how to highlight and erase the 8 pages of previous recipients and long blanks spaces before sending it along.  I get so impatient searching through them all to find out what those darn cats have gotten into this time.  Thanks.

Memorandum

In Reference to Posting From December 30, Entitled: Play With Me

Readers, I must look like I am playing with myself.  Perhaps you noticed the bit of help from my cousin?  I implore your assistance to keep us from looking like inbred, soror patruelisphiles.  

Please contribute.

-the mgmt.

I love school holidays

I might like them even more now that I am not in school.  If my kids were at school all day would I hear these little gems?

Big C: I have the top score! (Wii fest in the livingroom.)  I have the first and third highest on this game.  That leaves only the second spot open.

I am afraid I did remind him how ordinal numbers work.  A third without a second?  Not possible.  Also, rankings.  Big disappointment to the boy.  Now he is avoiding that game at all costs, talking up EVERY OTHER game so his siblings won't be tempted to play and he will hold the record for all eternity.  

Then there was Little C wandering in to the kitchen for food at 10:30 am.

Little C: I am totally not getting a candy cane.  I counted them all on the tree and I know there are enough for everyone, but I am not asking.  

Mama: Not asking, huh?

Little C: Nope.  But could I have one of those eggs that goes in this instead? (Here, he indicates the antique silver jigger on the counter.)

Mama: Do you mean a soft boiled egg or a gin soaked egg?

Little C: What?

Mama: I will make the eggs.

Little C: After the egg I might count the candy canes again.

play with me

Does any one else completely LOVE the funny word verification words on Blogspot?  I thought of a game for us to play.  You hit the comment button, tell me your random letters, and then define the word for us all to enjoy.

I just had "imoan" over at lftec.blogspot.com  TOO EASY!  

Gimme sumthin worth my time.  We can all ring in the New Year together with some "kingfean" fun!

 

Points Against Public Schools

I am toying around with the idea that my five year old is too educated for his own good.  Well...for my good, anyway.  I am considering pulling him out of public education and teaching him myself.  Does a kindergardener need logic?  Should he be able to pull an end-run around my sensible directions?  

Let me work on some simple "do what I say without asking me why" exercises.  I will pencil out some "respect me or else" assignments.  Find some independent reading to support my new leanings towards "no need to think for yourself" child rearing philosophy.  I'll let you know what I come up with.

Too drastic?  You let me know what you think after I tell you the one he just pulled at the dinner table.

Little C: "Did you know my stomach has four parts?"

Mama: "Are you a Ruminant?"

Little C: "What?"

Mama: "Like a cow or a goat.  Giraffes too."

Little C: "Uh.  No.  You see, the first section is for swallowed food that I did not chew.  This one is at level zero.  The second one is for chewed up food that I swallowed.  This one is 100%.  The third one is for drinks and it is also full.  The fourth one is for dessert and is at zero."

Then he just smiles at me with those Paul Newman eyes, rosy red cheeks, and mop of blonde hair.  He can be very persuasive even when he does not come up with these wild theories.

Mama: "Let me make sure I get this straight.  Are you telling me that you have chewed and swallowed as much steak and baked potato as your body can hold?"

Little C:  "Yes."

Mama: "And that you have followed my advice and actually chewed your food this evening."

Little C: "Yes."

At this point he starts to look encouraged.

Mama: "So even though you have eaten less than half of your dinner you are telling me that you are full.  But not so full that you couldn't follow up with a big bowl of ice cream."

Little C: "YES!"

Mama: "Since there is no dessert tonight...you can use that fourth chamber to fit the rest of your potato, kid."