June 2005 Archives

Know what smells REAL BAD?  Two week old mac and cheese in a metal thermos, which is in a lunchbox,  left under someone's bed.   I had to put a perfectly good lemon down the disposal directly after that corpsey-smelling, vomit-inducingness that used to be someone's lunch. 

(HEY will some blogging mama who is also a huge computer geek please make a shortcut button that when you push it adds, "Oh shit, the baby is screaming and I don't think s/he'll go back to sleep.  See ya later," and then it posts your post.  Please.  Only if I had that and just used it and she did go back to sleep, I'd be starting over now.  So maybe I'm better off without.)

I think I've run the thermos through the dishwasher twice so far, marking the first time since the dishwasher has been installed (October of 2002) that the HEAVY WASH cycle has been selected.  It will just live there until it stops smelling, cause it was pricey and he will use it again this year.

Less foul smelling, but not pleasant, either, is the stopped up shower drain.  Luckily, the shower drain isn't connected to anything other than the next door neighbor's shower drain, so we can still flush and wash and other watery sh-es.  The plumber who came out yesterday was very nice, very patient, and very unable to fix the problem since his cable broke off somewhere inside the drain.  Someone else, a more slender someone else who can get under the house to where the pipes are(our guy did get under the house, but the heat ducts were blocking his access to the drain), will be coming to replace the drain pipe.  Today was supposed to be the day, but there was just the flaky quiet of no plumber under the house sawing and welding and plumbering.  Tomorrow I will call. 

Also, I have no van.  Well, I have it.  It is sitting, filthy, in the driveway.  I can't drive it, though, because the spark plugs are fouled.  So, Jenijen, you say, CHANGE THEM!  After all, wasn't it you who fixed the washer and the fridge and most recently, the vacuum cleaner?  Get on the stick, woman, and replace those plugs! 

Well, I did take the van to the shop I love.  The good shop who always fix stuff and never overcharge.  I said to the nice boy at the good shop, "My car stalls at lights, I think it just needs a tune up.  It's way overdue."  And he said, "OK.  I will call you with an estimate in a couple hours, and I'll check for any other problems."  (SEE NOW I NEED THE BUTTON!  Oh, wait, maybe not.  Just wimpering now. . . )

Anyway, he called and this is what he said.  I swear I'm not making it up, either.  The spark plugs, ignition wires and fuel filter need changing.  With parts and labor, that will be

seriously, I swear,

$658.00

And I was struck dumb.  For a minute.  Then I said, "SEVEN HUN   DRED  DOLLARS?? DUDE!"  (okay, this time total button needed here she is, come to see me) 

And he said that parts were 250, labor made up the rest, because three of the spark plugs are behind the engine manifold, and lots of work has to be done to get to them.  I have to go get this water chugging baby off my lap and back to sleep, but the end of the story is that my brother GOD BLESS HIM is going to help me (read, "do for me") do all the easier work and we'll let the shop do the hard stuff, but still it's gonna be about three hundred bucks to replace three spark plugs.  And they want all the other work done first, so I have no van.  BED

When I was eighteen I worked in a little cafe.  The pastry chef was Maria, who was about thirty.  Maybe thirty something.  She had a son named Leo.  She said that his little thighs were so cute and meaty that she just wanted to take a bite out of them, which made me think that she was very weird, and possibly a little ill.  But, now I know what she means.  And eighteen year olds I know think I'm weird. 

I also had a friend who was breastfed until she was four.  When she told me we were in high school, and I thought, Wow! that's so hippy!  Lexy was weaned at four years and three months.  Heh.  (Elayne, say to yourself "She lives in California, she lives in California) 

All that is neither here nor there, but I was thinking about it.

On friday, I did chores; including - but not limited to

• steam cleaning the living room carpet
• steam cleaning the couch
• cleaning the kids' bathroom
• banana bread baking
• kitchen clean up
• a real, honest-to-God, kneeling down on the floor with sponges, cleaning of the kitchen floor
• window and window sill washing
• did I mention scrubbing the floor???  (my muscles still ache)
• cleaning out and organizing the utility/tool shelves in the hall closet
• cleaning out and organizing the junk drawer in the kitchen

I also finished reading Snow (oops, heh, I typed 'snot') Falling on Cedars, and just started East of the Mountains, by the same author, David Guterson (who also wrote a book called Why Homeschooling Makes Sense, so you have to love him).  He is to novels what Merchant and Ivory are to film; lush and dense with detail in all the right ways, showing beauty in its hidden places in such a subtle way that it never feels like he's saying, 'Hey!  Look at this!  This is so beautiful and good!  See that??'   And the good kind of sad, the kind of sad that you don't mind feeling because, well, because of its beauty, I guess.

I am going to go read.

Here's an easy good thing to make for dinner!  Hooray for easy and good!  (get your mind out of the gutter)

Chili and couscous pie (best as I can remember it without going to the kitchen for the book)

• heat oven to 350
• lightly grease a 10 inch baking dish or pie pan (I'd use a deep one, though)
• bring 2 and a quarter cups water to a boil
• stir in 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon olive oil, and 1 and a half cups of instant couscous
• cover, remove from heat and let sit for ten minutes
• put couscous in bottom of dish and sprinkle with some (the recipe says a quarter cup, but I used more) grated sharp cheddar (or whatever you pick)
• add about three cups of your favorite (homemade or canned) chili (I used four cups.  We were hungry)
• sprinkle 1/3 cup minced onion, a 4 ounce can of diced green chilies, and more cheese over top
• bake for 30 minutes, or till cheese is bubbly
• let sit 5 minutes before serving

Does anyone else cry when their 8 year old refuses to help straighten his room, the 6 year old is meaner than a rattlesnake (sorry, John, just a saying), and their 4 and 2 year olds spit milk at each other in the kitchen?   Anyone??

It's summer solstice again.  Last year before solstice I was reading Circle Round, planning our little ceremony that never happened, but was to include writing things down (things we wanted to accomplish, or things we wanted to move on from? I don't remember) and then burning them.  Seems like the year flew by, but the individual days mostly dragged on.  Especially all the sick days.  I'm thinking that maybe I can take another try with my copy of Circle Round and get it together for the autumn equinox, which will happen right about the time that I turn 35.  Taking the focus off of me would be most welcome!  It's odd that even though I know that I'm not really old, and that in fifteen or twenty years I'll look back on this time and think of it as when I was 'young,' I'm having a hard time with the whole concept of being thirty five.  Maybe it's moving on to that older demographic.  You know, on questionnaires you check the age box and there's one for 18-34.  I like checking that box.

Today I played the sponge bob video game with (and for awhile, without) Nathan.  We took turns playing until we beat the game.  It was very fun, but after I slack off for more than an hour I get all antsy about it.  Tomorrow I will probably be a tornado and try to make up for my lounging.  I already have the dishwasher and washing machine running right now.   I cleaned up the kitchen table, swept, took out the garbage.  There was a time when that would have been lots, but these days it's not even the bare minimum.  Lexy wants to help, but not with the things he's able to do well.  It's hard for me to let him wash the dishes, because I know it won't be done like I want it.  But, I need to let him do it.  Just like I let Sophie draw the faces on her fairies that we made today from pipe cleaners and beads.  They look freaky, in a cute way.  I'll get pictures when I have the camera.  John and I share one, and we have a kind of loose joint custody thing going. 

Today Willow got a big blanket and brought it over to some little chairs in the living room and said to me, "Hideout!"  She loves playing with the older kids.  I already made plans to make a hideout for the girls, and hope to get the materials together this week.  I'm copying something that my brother and I had as children, which I still have, that's like a tablecloth with four sides that hang down low to make a little house out of a card table.  I measured the card table we have, and made a fairly detailed sketch of what I need to do.  It will have one real window next to where the door outline goes, plus three window outlines on the other sides.  I hope that the fabric I like is cheap, since I need over twelve yards.  If I do all the window and door outlines I have planned I'll need over thirty three yards of some kind of half inch border.  I'll be checking out the sale tables!

I ought to sleep, since I am getting ANOTHER cold.  Grrrrrr.  Just finished the sinus infection and ear infection from the last one, which came on the tail end of the one right before that.  Enough already!

I am about to go see Nate graduate from Kindergarten.  I have to balance the camera, video camera (he insists I bring it) and both girls, by my lonesome, while also crying.  Better get going.

ETA:

Okay, I'm back.  I didn't cry, not even when all four kindergarten classes got together and sang a 'goodbye to kindergarten' song. 

I kept Willow quiet by letting her shovel chocolate chip cookies and m&ms into her mouth.  She'd like to attend graduation everyday.

I love it when I score on the 'next blog' button.  Christina lives at the south pole.  It's a little frosty there, you know, like a hundred degrees below zero!!!!  She'd laugh and laugh if she knew how little it takes to get me in a sweatshirt and socks, cranking up that heater.

This is probably a no-brainer, but it's helping me.  Yesterday I was lamenting (rather childishly) the fact that my workload is large and my time to do what I like is small.  John asked what he could do to help me.  I was crabby, so of course there was no solution, because if there's a solution I have to quit pouting. 

But, I think I figured out a good way to psyche myself out.  It's similar to setting the clocks five minutes ahead or having a 'cushion' in your checking account, since you know you're sort of fooling yourself, but those sorts of things work for me.  Instead of just a 'to do' list, I am adding things I want to do.  It may be written or it may be in my head, but I'm putting things I like on my list.  So far they have been part of what needs to get taken care of anyway, but I'm selecting stuff I like.  Yesterday it was making potato salad and banana bread; today was cutting back and weeding the teensy patch where the lavender and poppies are, and pulling some weeds in the back yard while the girls played in water.  Totally improved my outlook. 

The latest issue of All Round came with a note saying that it was the last.  The boys haven't learned to sit still long enough to appreciate it yet, but I think that before too long, they'll be hooked.  The letter says that new books will be coming out yearly instead of the magazine, which is okay since they'll hold up better. 

But the whole thing made me think again of how backward things are.  Here's a really cool, advertisement-free, innovative product for children, and it doesn't catch on.  What catches on?  Total crap.  Everyone knows that the popular stuff isn't really quality, and I mean kids, too, but no one seems to care.  I wonder how people can grow up to become artists when what they have surrounding them as they form their opinions is junk. 

It is really encouraging to see that the Miyazaki films are picking up speed.  And most any bookstore has children's books with high quality, thoughtful art and words.  But still, the movie summary, poorly illustrated picture books take up too much shelf space. 

My kids and I have been enjoying this website.  We have made most of the ones shown, and the otter paper dolls, too.  Check out her blog for more great art. 

If the republicans can make all sorts of silly "anti-" laws, then maybe the rest of us can make some helpful anti-crap laws.  (Except for the occasional crap we need, like when you are desperate for fritos with bean dip and a real --not diet, not caffeine-free-- Dr. Pepper.)

Oh, and how cute is this??  I can't wait to get my mom's sewing machine back from the shop.  You know, so I can look at it and imagine making things like that. 

A few weeks ago I saw an actor walking down the street.  I couldn't remember his name to save my life, of course, though I pondered it way too long.  Tonight I was so happy to see that he is in the movie Scewby Dew Too!!  It's this guy.  I can sleep again!!!

Time to go put the still-awake ones to bed.  This is the last week of school and there are lots and lots of activities.  A little overwhelming, in my opinion. 

John got a good shot of the girls chasing bubbles.  Happy weekend.

This article says that choosing a repeat c-section rather than attempting to deliver vaginally can be harmful to baby. (I think going within ten miles of any hospital during childbirth -- unless something is going wrong -- is harmful to babies.)   Yet, lots of doctors will not even let women who've had c-sections try to deliver.  It's so frustrating that pregnancy is treated as an illness or condition that has to be monitored by a doctor.  Of course some of the time a doctor is needed; but I think it far more common that doctors meddle where they should not and just create problems.

My mom just came home from a trip to Paris and she brought us some wonderful goodies.  Here are a few of them.  I can't wait to see her pictures. 

The doll is for Willow, so it will hang on the wall until she's old enough to play with is nicely.

The dress is Sophie's.  She wore it to the doctor the other day with her pink chuck taylor low tops and got lots of compliments.  Please excuse the messy closet.

Lexy was dying for a beret, and the boys also got lots of books from Shakespeare and Company, with little stamps inside saying so.

I got two beautiful tops, and John got a shirt that is very him; a black background with a b/w picture of a gargoyle looking out over Paris.

There were also Eiffel tower keychains, books, books, more books (yay) a beautiful coloring book.  My mom is very very generous.

I want to go to her house to try some of the chocolate she brought home.   

ETA

Now that this is clean, here's another picture

I'm really enjoying reading the entries by these very crafty and inspiring women, who happen to also be mother and daughters. 

And, on the subject of crafty, did you see that Miss Sophie wore her Textile Fetish shirt to meet her dreamboat, Mr. Chuckie Cheeze?  She didn't even get cake, soda and pizza all over it!  Which is a very good thing for her. 

Here is a fun (and free to everyone but Grace) way to raise some funds to take out breast cancer.  Go comment!

Sophie helped me make her cake.  I didn't want to write on it because I knew it would come out crooked, and it did.  Oh well.  It tasted marvelous.  When I had to change out frosting colors I'd squeeze what was in the pastry bag into a bowl.  When I did the pink Sophie said it looked like a brain.

Then, because she is her own little gross self, she said:
Let me lick the brain!!!

Later, she put the candles in.  Like the flaming teddy bear shirt?  It's from metal babies dot com, a hand me down from one of her favorite friends. The shirt, not the web site.

Her favorite birthday moment had to be when she got to finally see Chuckie.

I guess the cake needed some salt.

List of ills:

• ear infections -- 2 confirmed, one suspected.  Of those two, one ruptured, one non ruptured.
• croup
• fever
• cough
• SORE throat (that one is mine)
• SNOT (everyone is in that boat)
• muscle aches

Okay, that's enough complaining.  Wellness would be welcome, though. 

On the plus side, the house is somewhat tidy.  Now I just need to scrub the kitchen floor.  When I'm less dizzy.  Did I mention the dizziness???

Oh, and thanks for all the sweet birthday wishes for my girl.  That was so very nice. 

That's what John said in his sleep the other night when I asked him why he was laughing.  He thinks it has to do with the king snake somehow.  I think that he was dreaming about the Mkl Jksen trial and that he was put in some kind of shell cage.  I'm sure he'll deny that one, though.

So, my repair skills are growing, thanks in large part to my accomplice brother who gets things from home depot and does all the extra muscle required work.  So far I've fixed the fridge door and replaced the water pump in the washing machine by myself, and together we have replaced the serpentine belt in the van (okay, I think I really just mostly watched, but it was COLD and RAINING) and now we have plumbed.  My dad's first cousin's husband (I just call him Phil) says that the eleventh commandment is Thou shalt not plumb.  He's onto something.  Here's my semi-humorous story.  Laugh at me, not with me. . . I don't care.

That's her on her first birthday.  Now she's four.  Yikes!

I'll try and get a good rendition of her birth story down here; but I'm pretty tired.

Once, when I was still working at the restaurant I worked at forever, one of my coworkers came up to me and said, "Secrets and lies, Jen, secrets and lies," before walking away.  Now, it was right after the movie came out, but I always wondered what he had on me.

Which brings me to this amazing site, which I found through Small Hands.  So, if you saw her link but didn't follow it, I'd like to invite you to do it now. 

Tomorrow is Sophie's last day of being three.  Maybe on Friday I'll post her birth story.  If she doesn't kill me for not making her a wedding cake.  She almost did me in with her screeching when she learned that I was NOT going to get her the same gift her father did.  I am against that sort of toy on principle.  Ick.  And really, if that is what he got her (I'm not sure, but it is something like that) she'd have been much better off with a good summer art camp or maybe he could have (hello, Jen! breaking the ex bashing rule.  must stop even though it is an enjoyable sport. . . )

I need to sleep.  Tomorrow is going to kick my backside.

to Laura at typepad for emailing me back pronto.  The template did change, but I couldn't see it until I cleared my cache, just like she suggested.

I have a disgusting amount of stuff to do.  Make brownies, go to the bank, grocery shop, laundry, clean the bathroom, deal with the mess in the front room, get the girls' room in order.  It's no fun.  Wah.  But, I'm drinking this tea and all is well.  And there's an open bag of chocolate chips on the kitchen counter. 

I'm at the grocery store with the girls.  We have this huge-ass-honkin' cart, with a bench attached to the front of the regular cart.  The thing is bigger than my minivan.  The girls are strapped into the bench seats, and in the cart is a pack of diapers, baking chocolate, vanilla and my backpack.  Each of the girls is clutching a box of popsicles.  Willow has the mini pops and Sophie has the ones that look like crayons.  I don't like the store much, but it's close and the popsicles are two for one.  There's a nice looking man ahead of us, old enough to be a grandfather.  He sees the kids and sees the diapers in the cart and says to me, "You have THREE of 'em?"  (not sure why he picked three.  maybe he thinks Willow is too old for diapers or something.  OH WAIT--slaps forehead-- it doesn't matter because he is a total nutter!)

"No, I have four."

silence (interrupted by Sophie hissing at me, "Dat man can't talk to you!")

"FOUR, JEEZUS, my wife couldn't handle one!!"

"Well," I say, "it can be really hard no matter how many you have."

"I told her that some women actually have TWO  children.  But she was always afraid ours would die," he whispered the die part.

"It is an enormous responsibility," I say, starting to get that he's a few bricks short.

"She always kept him bundled in the warmest room of the house, and boiled his food with a silver spoon for eight to ten hours.  And the herbs.  That's not good.  You don't know what's in that stuff."

Now I see the condom (!!?) sticking out of his shirt pocket and take two steps back. 

"Mm-hm."

"But, she came from a paranoid family, and now the kid is a paranoid.  I tried to intervene, an intervention."

And now it's his turn at the register (large apple juice, even larger listerine) and he begins to complain to the cashier about something nonsensical. 

I wonder if his wife is responsible for the condom in his pocket.

*****

Time to clean house.

Why won't my template change work?  It shows up on the preview, I publish it, and it looks like the old way again.  Oh well.

I decided to change templates and add a bunch of things to the lists.  Funny, I wanted a change, but it doesn't look all that different.  I do that with haircuts and clothes, too, but those things take less time.  Check out the new links under open in tabs; there's lots of new good stuff.
Night.