Restless in Suburbia

Ice cream truck follies

2007-06-05T15:07:00.000-07:00

You know how you can hear a tiny bit of a song and you instantly know what song it is? Not only that, but it immediately evokes an emotion or memory?

That's how the ice cream truck song is in my family. Not for me, because I recognize that it's financial insanity to buy an ice cream bar from the truck when you can get a whole box of the crap at the grocery store for the same price. But my kids inherited the "ice cream truck" gene from my husband, who once almost broke a leg running downstairs to get to the ice cream truck when we had the same damn ice cream in the freezer.

So today I heard that faraway little tinkling of bells, and then I heard C's feet clomping out of his room.

"I think I heard the ice cream truck!" he said.

"Do you have any money?"

"I believe so." And he ran back to his room to open his bank safe. Its alarm went off and he ran outside with a $5 bill. Which kills me because when I was as kid you could get 50 ice cream sandwiches for a penny. Or something.

When he got outside (and I followed him, because I believe that all ice cream truck drivers - and clowns - are pedophiles, because otherwise how do you explain the job) the truck was driving away. And that's when I saw the saddest sight ever. My son was running down the street, barefoot, his $5 bill flapping in the wind, after the ice cream truck, which was getting smaller and smaller.

"Come back!" I yelled. "You'll never catch it!"

Finally he stood there and his shoulders drooped down and he started walking back. (Here let me mention that he already HAD ice cream, but it was freezer ice cream, not ice cream truck ice cream.) Then K came out.

"I think I heard the ice cream truck," she said and I told her it was gone.

Then C somehow got the idea to try to find the ice cream truck's schedule on the internet. I discouraged him. "Ice cream trucks don't go on schedules. They are whimsical creatures."

But there was no telling him anything. And soon he announced that he found the ice cream truck's schedule. Only he wasn't sure it was the right ice cream truck, actually.

5 thoughts about watermelon

2007-05-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

1. The first watermelon of the summer is almost a religious experience. The anticipation, the plunging knife, the juice seeping out. And that first bite. Is there anything in the world more delicious than a watermelon?

2. The first watermelon of the summer should be eaten on a holiday. Today, Memorial Day, is ideal. If you don't have a watermelon yet, go get one.

3. I'm not a purist. The watermelon is almost the perfect fruit, except for the seeds. It's charming how we've made the most of it, what with the seed spitting contests and all, but I do believe that seedless watermelons are an improvement.

4. I recently read that you shouldn't refigerate a watermelon. I think that's dumb. A watermelon should be eaten cold. Whether that's in a fridge or a cooler, doesn't matter. We've kept watermelons in the fridge for a few days before cutting 'em open and they're just fine.

5. As delicious as watermelon is, things that are "watermelon-flavored" are disgusting.

The dog's limit

2007-05-24T18:00:00.000-07:00

The dog narrowly escaped a much needed haircut today because I couldn't find his rabies certificate and the one that the groomer had was expired. So instead, my 12 year old daughter and I decided to give him a faux-hawk. He didn't mind the hair gel at all, but he drew the line at the hair dryer. Spoil sport.

Scooby Doo genre of literature

2007-05-04T18:24:00.000-07:00

Today at the library I catalogued 30 new books, all in the Scooby Doo genre of literature. In most of these books, Scooby and his friends were embroiled in a mystery involving someone wearing a mask trying to scare people away from some place that contained something of great value. At the end they unmask the villain and he says he would have gotten away with it had it not been for them. Then they eat a lot of food and the last line is always Scooby Doo saying "Scooby-Doo!" or "Roory Roo!" depending on which author wrote the book.

And I was thinking, damn, I could write one of those books every day! Why can't I get work like that? I have no pride at all. I'd happily write Scooby Doo books. So if any book publisher is among my 10 loyal readers, please get in touch with me.

If my boss read this I'd be dooced

2007-04-29T06:59:00.000-07:00

A 5th grade boy was writing a story in the library. He's an unusual 5th grade boy; as evidence, his story is a romance between a boy and a girl who own horses. It's sort of a double romance: the horses have a flirtation, but the main romance is between the boy and the girl. My favorite line, from the boy: "Oh, why if my horse can get a girlfriend, I can't?"

I told him that I was sure he had a future writing romance novels and he took that to heart, telling everyone what I said.

The disturbing thing about his story wasn't the romance, or the image of the boy and girl, and boy horse and girl horse going on a romantic picnic together. The disturbing part was that it had no paragraphs. This infuriates me. He wanted me to read the story and I refused until he broke it up into paragraphs.

He resisted at first until I told him (and this is where I might have violated the rules - stated or implied - of our school) "I read a study that proves that 10 year olds who don't use paragraphs are 50% more likely to end up in prison as adults."

Luckily for me, he hadn't heard this kind of argument before and so he didn't ask me where I read that, and so I didn't have to mumble, "A scientific journal."

What I should have told him is that even romance novelists use paragraphs.

Actual phone conversation

2007-04-25T18:04:00.000-07:00

Caller: I'm taking a survey of recent customers of Lowe's. This call will be recorded for...

Me: This is not a good time.

Caller: Why? (seriously! She asked why!)

Me: Because I'm watching American Idol.

Caller: When would be a good time to call back?

Me: When American Idol isn't on.

Caller: When is American Idol on?

Me: Well, normally it's on Tuesdays from 8 to 9, I guess. Then on Wednesdays, I think usually maybe at 9, but tonight it's a 2 hour special. I use DVR so I'm not totally sure.

Caller: I'm not on the west coast.

Me: Yeah, me either.

Caller: I don't know when I should call you back.

Me: Maybe you can look up the TV listings and if American Idol is on then don't call.

Caller: OK. I'll call back much earlier in the evening.

Me: That sounds great! Bye!

In memory of Star

2007-03-20T13:59:00.000-07:00

I showed up a little early to pick up my son from school and I found his class sitting in a circle around the butterfly garden.

One teacher, Ms. V., said, "Can anybody guess why we're here today?"

Silence.

"Well it's about something we talked about yesterday. A sad thing. Star, the gerbil, died."

As if on cue, the other teacher, Ms. J., walked up holding a small paper bag, the kind you'd put a lunch in, but I had a sinking feeling that she was not bringing lunch.

Ms. V. said, "Remember how we talked about buring people and animals when they die?"

A sob broke out from one girl and my son's lip quivered. One boy, T, jumped up and ran around the outside of the circle. "Bee! Bee!"

Ms. V. said, "T! Don't run from the bee! Sit down!"

I looked at that paper bag and thought, "Please God don't let her take that gerbil out of the bag." Ms. J. snapped on a plastic glove with the grim determination of a CSI investigator. She turned the bag over and out rolled Star. So white and fluffy and dead.

"Does anybody want to say anything about Star before we bury her?"

"Goodbye, Star!" a young boy cried.

Another one said, "Remember all the times Star escaped and ran into the office and the time she chewed up the wires and the fax machine stopped working?"

"No, that was Lucky the Hamster," Ms. J. said.

"Oh."

Another child tried, "Star didn't like to be held. She liked to be left alone. She wasn't exactly lazy."

Well, Star was being held but she would have a long time to be alone. Ms. J. took a spoon out of her pocket and dug a tiny, gerbil-sized hole and put Star into it. Then she spooned some dirt on top of it. Then she plopped down a giant rock on top of the hole.

"So we will always remember where she is," Ms. J. explained.

"To keep dogs from diggering her up," I thought.

Then C, my son, cried and cried.

This was the first time I had ever heard of Star.

More on Jack's butt

2007-03-13T19:39:00.001-07:00

So my husband took Jack to the vet, who confirmed that he did, indeed, have a great quantity of stuff in his butt. Just stuck up there. She cleaned it out and I'm extremely thankful that I didn't have to see the things that came out of his butt. Now we are to give him antibiotics and pain medication, and to routinely clean out his butt. I don't know what else to say other than the fact that I'm not sure I love Jack enough.

More on Jack's butt

2007-03-13T19:39:00.000-07:00

Disgusting thing on/in/near guinea pig's butt

2007-03-12T20:06:00.000-07:00

Here's a crash course on male guinea pig anatomy. The poop is expelled from the body, apparently, in two stages. I'm sort of making this up and sort of remembering what i read. First the poop goes into what is called the anal sac, which is near the anus, maybe where the testicles ought to be, or are. (I'm sorry, I took some benedryl and I'm loopy.) Then it moves from there to the actual anus, where it comes out of the body.

Well, the guinea pig, Jack, has a huge bulge where I imagine this anal sac is. I think it's either stopped up, or is maybe a tumor, or, i don't know, something else. I read that the thing to do is to swab it with mineral oil. So we tried that a couple of times. No change.

So I called the vet and I have to get my husband to take Jack to the vet because I have an appointment with an editor tomorrow. My husband said he'd take Jack. And here's where the entirely dishonest part comes in. I looked again at my email and saw that the appointment is actually for NEXT Tuesday. But, shhhh....

Instructions on puking

2007-02-20T06:54:00.000-08:00

1. We are generally not a puking family. When you get sick I would prefer that you suffer from sneezing or a headache.

2. If you must puke, please let it land in a toilet.

3. That is IN a toilet, not ON a toilet.

4. Alternately you may use a bucket or trashcan.

5. When you feel the urge to puke do not tell me about it. You are wasting precious seconds.

6. After you puke, please do not say "I feel great now!" while I'm cleaning it up. I want you to feel great, I really do. But show some empathy for the person cleaning up your puke.

7. After you puke, please do not eat vast quantities of food, especially things with little bits in it. Although you feel great, your stomach might have other ideas.

8. If there is any danger of puking, do not, I repeat, do not, drink red sports drinks. The reason they say "clear liquids" for sick people is so that when they puke it's not as hard to clean up.

Message to my dog

2007-02-03T14:37:00.000-08:00

Dear Dog,

I know why you want to go outside. I, too, saw the person walk past our house walking another dog. On your street. I know that you want to go into the backyard in the hope that this time you will be able to jump over the fence, chase down that other dog, and give him a piece of your mind. If not that, at least you will stand at the fence and bark menacingly until I finally open the back door and yell for you to come inside.

That being understood, I am not letting you outside. Talking to me in your "human" voice will not convince me. There are no words you can say that will fool me into believing that you want to go outside to empty your bladder or to have a little exercise. So just stop talking to me with your ar-roo-roo logic.

Photographing UFOs

2007-01-25T18:58:00.000-08:00

While driving today I heard a local radio show about how last night a whole bunch of people saw this strange thing in the sky. The time was approximately 5 minutes before American Idol. (that would be 7:55PM for those who use a different timekeeping method.) Several people called in about how they saw the object. It had a lot of blue lights. It hovered in the air, then disappeared.

So I got to thinking about how I'm so completely unprepared. All my night time pictures come out like crap. What if I see a UFO one night? If I don't get a picture (what if I don't even have a camera with me?) I'll kick myself for the rest of my life.

So if anybody has any photography advice for taking pictures of UFOs I'd love to hear it. (And why do UFOs always come at night anyway? I'd have no problem if they arrived during daylight.) I'm really good at portraits so I'm sure I could get good pictures of aliens if I met them in person. Only I'd be like, "Smile! No! Do the smile where you show your teeth! Stand up straight! Is that...KOOL-AID around your mouth?!"

Scary 8 year old kid

2007-01-21T17:01:00.000-08:00

C: Sometimes I lie very flat on the floor upstairs and spy on what you and Daddy talk about.

me: Really? What have you heard?

C: I don't remember. I just remember the interesting stuff.

me: So none of it has been interesting yet?

C: Not yet. But I think I need to keep track of it anyway. I'm going to start to keep a file.

My husband's final wishes

2007-01-15T19:10:00.000-08:00

My husband, S, my 12yo daughter, K, and I were watching the end of Supernanny, where a British nanny supposedly gets some bad American children into shape. At the end of the episode they planted a tree in memorial of the children's father. So we started talking about my husband's wishes, should he die.

me: You want us to play a tree?
S: That would be nice.
K: I hate trees.
me: Nobody hates trees. S, what kind of tree do you want?
S: Not some stupid willow tree. Maybe a birch.
me: So a pine tree. OK.
S: A birch. Not a pine.
me: Whatever. Do you want us to cremate you?
S: No. I want to be buried.
K: We can sprinkle your ashes on the mountain.
me: No, we can use it to fertilize the pine tree.
S: The birch tree. And I don't want to be cremated. And I hate when they keep the urn on the mantle.
me: i think it's nice. then when the kids act up I can say "Your father's watching you."
K: Yeah, and you can draw a little mad face on the urn.
me: We can have a happy face on one side and then on the other side we'll have a mad face with your eyebrows drawn the way they get when you get mad.
S: But I don't want to be cremated.
me: Why don't we bury half of you and cremate the other half?
S: What?
me: That way it's like the best of both worlds.
S: What?
me: that way we'd have a place to visit you at the cemetary, but I'd still have the urn to frighten the children. When they're bad I'll wave the urn in their face and talk with a spooky voice.
K: Ooh, I like that!
me: Isn't it your bedtime?
K: Bedtime?
me: Get to bed or I'm getting Supernanny on your butt.

Happy end of Hanukkah!

2006-12-22T22:44:00.000-08:00

I hope that everyone had a wonderful Hanukkah and ate lots of greasy food. I hope you kicked serious butt in dreydel.

Tonight we had a little party for the last night of Hanukkah. It included all the essential elements.

1. Lighting of the menorah
2. eating of latkes
3. mockery of people who put, yes, ketchup on their latkes
4. dreydel game played for M&Ms played by a bunch of cold-hearted cut-throat kids who don't share their M&Ms with other people
5. billiards
6. small child (not mine) hitting large child (also not mine) on head with pool cue, possibly by accident
7. 8 year old Jewish boy singing Irish drinking song about robbery, betrayal, and how women can't be trusted.

Chicken man and muscle man

2006-12-21T14:52:00.000-08:00

I saw something fascinating on a sidewalk today as I drove by. I didn't have my camera, so you will have to use your imagination (just as I told the mouthy 1st grader at the library when I read his class the story that didn't have pictures.) There was a man in a chicken suit watching an older man in regular clothes do pushups on the sidewalk.

I'd like to know what series of events could have led to that situation. Any ideas?

About this blog

2006-12-20T16:12:00.000-08:00

I just had this horrifying realization. You ever see that you made a mistake and all of a sudden you turn pale, you start sweating, and you think you're going to pass out? That bad of a mistake?

Well I was checking the statistics for how people get to this blog. I sometimes do this, in the vain home that at some point some search term other than "objects stuck in anus" will be the most popular search term.

Today I noticed that I was number 2 on the entire internet for surburbia. Spelled just like that. I thought, "Isn't it an interesting quirk of google that you get to my blog, where everything is spelled correctly, by spelling a word incorrectly in your search?" Then I noticed that in the TITLE of the blog, the words that are on the top of the screen, I had typed surburbia instead of suburbia.

It must have been there for more than a year! (It's changed now.) How come nobody told me? I don't want to be around you people when I've been eating spinach. Someone has to tell me that I've got spinach stuck in my teeth.

Ethics question

2006-12-15T12:45:00.000-08:00

Say you give a dog a snausage. The dog proceeds to walk around the family room, whining, for ten minutes, trying to find a hiding place for the snausage so that the other dogs won't find it. (Note: you only have one dog.) Finally he drops it on the floor and gingerly places his toy lamb on top of it and, looking furtively around, walks to the front door to make sure there's no trouble in the neighborhood.

Suppose then you lift up the lamb and take out the snausage and replace the lamb. Is that wrong?

Subbing again, more kid wisdom

2006-12-13T19:37:00.000-08:00

These are all 1st graders

------------------

Kid1 to kid2: What are you doing? Are you putting ketchup on your eggs????

Me: It's actually very common.

Kid1: And it's very nasty.

Me: You know, Kid1, I just love having you around!

Kid1: I know.

------------

Me to Indian kid about a beautiful necklace he always wears that has two pearls in it: I love that necklace. Does it mean something?

Kid: Yes. It means it is very, very shiny.

Me: Yeah, it is! Does it have some sort of religious meaning?

Kid: Yes. It is a lucky, lucky stone!

----------------------

Teacher (giving lesson about Christmas): So if there is no tree in the Christmas story, why do you think we have Christmas trees?

Kid: Because if you had a rock, you couldn't put any presents under it.

------------------------

Kid: What kind of car do you drive?

Me: A blue one. What kind of car do you drive?

Kid: I drive a black pickup truck with a basketball in it.

Me: Is it the kind of truck that can fly or the kind that stays on the road?

Kid: It flies.

-----------------------

Kid: Will you take my picture?

Me: OK. (pause) Why are you making that scary face?

Kid: It's my thinking face.

--------------

Quote of the day

2006-12-12T18:41:00.000-08:00

I was subbing in a classroom the other day. There was a 6 year old boy who was having trouble staying on task, and exchanging some words with another boy. I went to him and said, "D, what do you need to be doing?" His answer: "Well, what I DON'T need to be doing is calling K a dumpster cow."

Idiotic Literary Criticism....

2006-12-10T16:06:00.000-08:00

....from me. Here are two of my recent literary complaints that I've said to my husband. These are about books that I feel I should like. And I won't let up. I'll try to read them again and hope that my deficiencies have been overcome.

Wuthering Heights: "What are they talking about? Get to the point."

Grapes of Wrath: "By the time they finally got in the damn car I just didn't care anymore. They could stay there and eat berries for all I cared."

I'm perfectly suited for my job as a school librarian, aren't I? Oh, the young minds that I'm enriching every day!

My annual grinch post

2006-12-06T18:14:00.000-08:00

My evening started out wonderfully. I had been to the habitat for humanity restore earlier and I had purchased a toilet for $45. It was nice, too! It didn't have a lid, so my husband surreptitiously removed the lid from another (not as nice) toilet and attached it to the one we wanted. So of course I was in a giddy mood.

Then I went to Goodwill, where I bought many adorable baby clothes for my future niece, including a brilliant three piece outfit which I assembled from three totally different pieces.

Then I went to the grocery store. I had to get food for my daughter's birthday party. She's turning twelve and the theme of her party is "Buy us a lot of food and leave us alone."

I keep hearing about this "assault on Christmas" but apparently the foot soldiers haven't arrived here yet, because Christmas music was blaring at the store. At first I felt proud that I wasn't letting it bother me. But after a while it starts to grate on my nerves as well as my sense of good taste.

I was OK through "Jingle Bells." Even though they played it twice in a row. I didn't mind "I saw mommy kissing santa claus."

My cheek started twitching during "The most wonderful time of the year" because who the hell are they to say? I like June.

Earlier today I heard that you can tell when a dog gets stressed because you can see the whites of his eyes. That started happening to me during "Winter Wonderland." The only thing that saved me from losing it then was imagining it was "Weiner Wonderland" and all the snowmen were in the shape of penises.

Then they played "I'll be home for Christmas." Damn, what a whiner that guy is. Either get home or don't get home. But if he's there "only in his dreams" who the freaking hell is he doing any favors for? Who cares if he's there in his dreams?

But the song that put me over the edge was "Happy Elf." I'd never heard this one before, and once was too many times. It's basically about this elf and he's really happy. The chorus is like this:
"The happy elfI'm the happy elfI'm the happy elf and I just might stop on byThe happy elfI'm the happy elfI'm the happy elf and I just might stop on byI'm Santa's spy!"

Freaking weirdo. And here's the thing. I LIKE elves. (My policy is to hate clowns and like elves.) But I realized at that moment that I don't like HAPPY elves. I like complicated elves. Elves who cause problems. Like leprechauns.

So this joyous music was pissing me off and I wanted to rip my ears off. So I employed a technique that I learned from my brother many years ago. When our parents would have one of their frequent, unending arguments, he would plug his ears and chant poetry to block the sound of the argument. Usually this poem: "A one L lama is a priest. A two L llama is a beast. I bet a pair of striped pajamas you'll never see a three L lllama." over and over again.

So I started talking out loud. "Boca burgers. Onions. Ground turkey. Boca burgers. Onions. Ground turkey. Boca burgers. Onions. Ground turkey."

Then I heard an announcement: "Security Code 204." And I thought, "Shit. What if it's me?" I'd be suspicious of this person with bulging eyes chanting, "Boca burgers. onions. ground turkey" too.

So I knew I had to get out of there. I wrapped up my shopping trip without ordering the birthday cake. At the checkout counter I asked the person, "Does it drive you crazy? Hearing this music all day?" and she said, "No. It puts me in a holiday mood."

"Oh. Yeah, me too." (In the mood for Murder Elf Day.)

When I got outside I put my groceries in my car with toilet and enjoyed the quiet.

New way to horrify your older sister if you are an 8yo boy....

2006-12-01T16:45:00.000-08:00

Suppose you are an almost 12 year old girl and you have an 8 year old brother. Your brother has many ways to horrify and humiliate you.

1. Tell your friends how there are lots of pictures of you when you were little, naked.
2. Make whistling noises (you know that hubba hubba kind of whistle?) when you mention any boys in your class.
3. Fart in the car.

But my son has found an even better way. He has told his sister's friend, who is 13, that he like-likes her. Did you get that? LIKE-LIKE. Not just like. And he said he's inviting her to his birthday party in a couple of months.

Now that would be absolutely devious...except that he actually is in love.

Things I believe

2006-11-29T19:15:00.000-08:00

1. I believe that the sushi you get in the food court of a mall is perfectly safe to eat.

2. I believe that my life is a delicate balance between laziness and impatience.

3. I believe that it's OK to wash all color laundry together in cold water.

4. I believe that Netflix is the cause of a good portion of my guilt. Those little red envelopes mock me when, night after night, I don't get around to watching the movies.

5. I believe that if this story is true, I want this kid as my one man security force. http://www.charlotte.com/mld/charlotte/news/breaking_news/16122507.htm Is there anythikng more fearsome than a 4 year old boy with a Power Rangers costume?

the gorilla of your dreams

2006-11-13T19:18:00.000-08:00

This incident happened a few days ago and I can't get it out of my mind. Let me start from the beginning.

It all began when I was wearing my gorilla costume on Halloween. They had a fall festival at school and I was a gorilla. I felt KIND of bad because a few small children got frightened and cried, but I always convinced myself that they were crying for a reason other than the fact that there was a gorilla at the fall festival. (Like maybe they wanted potato chips or something and their mom said no.) And I didn't feel bad enough to take off my snarling gorilla face.

Anyway two days later at school we had a lockdown, which is, unfortunately, not unheard of. There are public trails that run behind the school and every so often there is a problem there. On this occasion, two armed men had held up a nearby store. (I'm actually making up the part about the store, filling in the blanks. But there were two armed men.) The police were pursuing them and they were supposedly on the trails.

When there is a lockdown, the rules are that we lock all interior and exterior doors. We stay away from windows and turn lights off. We put the kids somewhere that they supposedly can't be seen. I had been at lunch and came back in the middle of this and was pulled inside. Then, strangely, they asked several adults to stand at the doors that had windows and watch. (For the armed men?) This is a direct violation of the lockdown rules, but I eagerly signed up because I'd much rather take a chance at being shot than to be bored. I stood there with another teacher and I kept on gasping and pointing out the window, which seemed to startle her a bit.

Nothing happened (I know you're waiting for the exciting part and I'm dragging this out.) The next day a 10 year old boy named Steven said to me, "When you were standing at the door during the lockdown, were you wearing your gorilla suit?"

This one question has haunted me ever since. Why would he think I had a gorilla suit on? I don't have really hairy arms. My normal clothes are nowhere near as bulky as the gorilla suit. But am I fooling myself? Am I worse looking than I thought?

I told him, "Steven, take this advice as you go through life. If you remember nothing else I ever tell you, remember this. Never, ever, ever ask a woman if she's wearing a gorilla suit."

Ever since then, I've been asking myself why he thought I was wearing a gorilla suit. Just for reference, look at the picture of the gorilla on the top of this page. I am not as hairy as the gorilla. My teeth are better. I'd post a picture of me without the gorilla suit but then I would no longer be the anonymous school librarian blogger. But I really don't think I look like a gorilla.

Someone suggested that it was my gorilla like fierce spirit as I stood at the door that made me look like a gorilla. I like that idea.

Father Knows Best

2006-11-05T19:04:00.000-08:00

C spent the night at a friend's house on Saturday night. Tonight I finally got around to asking him how it went. (he is 8, by the way.) He said it went good except M (another friend, who is 12) was playing Star Wars Lego on the gamecube with him was on the same team as he was, and M kept on sneaking up behind C and killing him.

C said that he asked him nicely to stop a few times because they were on the same team but then he maybe over-reacted a little bit. "I screamed at M. And then we weren't allowed to play the game anymore."

So, being the wise and helpful mother I said, "Can you think of a different way to handle that?"

C said, "Well I could have....asked him some more to stop?"

Here S steps in with some fatherly advice. "No, that's not what you do."

C: What should I do?

S: You kill HIM.

C: Oh! OK!

Bat Mitzvah "expo"

2006-11-03T16:50:00.000-08:00

The synagogue is having this big B'nei Mitzvah "retreat" this weekend for families of kids having a Bat or Bar Mitzvah this year. This is mandatory, they say. There is information they will be giving us that you CAN'T GET ANYWHERE ELSE."

So, being responsible parents, we take K to it. We get there and it's like nothing I've ever seen. Each table is decorated with some theme. Western. Chinatown. Golf.

"Look!" I nudged K. "That one is WEINER WONDERLAND!"

"Winter," she said. "It says winter wonderland."

"Oh. That explains the penguins."

There are four caterers there. Photographers. Video-ographers, or whatever they're called. Let's see. Florists.

I'm stunned because I'm thinking of something really simple. And cheap. But I don't want to make K feel bad. So I ask her, "What kind of theme do you like?"

And she says, "I hate themes."

"Thank God."

So we have this meal from these caterers and it was just OK. There are four more things that are supposed to happen tonight, including the Friday night service, a couple other things, and then a DJ party for the kids. The party is supposed to prepare our children for...parties. Like if you drop the average 13yo kid at a party he will stand there stunned, saying, "What is this? What do I do?"

So we were sitting at the end of the dinner, and K, my husband, and I shared a look. A look that means, "We're gonna get the hell out of here."

So S says, "Look, you two leave first. Act like you're getting something from the car. Go around the corner. Then I'll go out separately. That way they won't know we're leaving early."

So we're home early. We're going back tomorrow for part 2.

True confession

2006-10-30T20:31:00.000-08:00

The other night I was in bed with my husband when much to my surprise I farted. It was a surprise fart. And it came out sort of high pitched, but quiet.

My husband said, "What was that noise?" and I said I didn't know.

So he got up to investigate. He went all over the house, including the basement, looking for whatever made that noise. He was gone a good 1o minutes.

When he came back I asked him, "Did you find it?" and he said, "Yeah I think it was C. He got up to turn his CD player on."

How our son turning on a CD player could make a high-pitched fart noise I do not know, but I accepted the answer.

Toothbrushing

2006-10-22T18:34:00.000-07:00

C came down after brushing his teeth and they were totally grubby looking. This is typical. The only reason he doesn't have any cavities is because of my superior enamel genes which I've passed down to him.

I told him to go brush again and S said he'd brush C's teeth. So afterwards I said to C, "Could you tell the difference between the way you brushed and the way Daddy brushed?"

C: "Yes."

me: "What was the difference?"

C: "My way was less humiliating."

Killing time with the librarian

2006-10-19T12:45:00.000-07:00

Kids today. I don't want to be one of those people who say this, but I have to. Kids today.

OK, so the students, 2nd grade and up, were taking some sort of dumb standardized test today. I shared in the responsibility of occupying the 1st graders' time. (Since it's mixed grade, they would normally be in with the 2nd and 3rd graders.

I started out by reading an Uncle Wiggily story to them. And this is where these students first disappointed me. They just weren't as into Uncle Wiggily as I thought they would be. I guess there isn't enough action for them. I thought it was a pretty good story. Uncle Wiggily stopped some Bad Boys from playing a mean trick on a little old lady. Apparently that just doesn't cut it anymore. (Kids today!) So some kids were lying down and looking the other way. Some were talking. This pissed me off. Because heaven knows I'd rather be sitting in the library browsing the internet rather than reading Uncle Wiggily stories.

So I taught them an important lesson. I said, "It's fine if you don't find this story interesting. But, out of politeness and respect, I want you to look interested. So I want everybody to look at me as if I am the most fascinating person in the world." Here I demonstrated a "fascinated" look.

Then I told them all to make a fascinated look. I had to tell one kid to make the look at ME, not the other side of the gym. They all did a really good job. Then I said, "Now, as I read, occasionally I will pause and look around to see who is making a fascinated look at me and who is not."

This worked really well! Whenever I looked around they all were staring, bug-eyed, at me. It really did make me feel fascinating.

After that story was over, I learned, to my dismay, that I still had 15 minutes left to kill. So I decided to discuss philosophy with them. I asked them if they'd rather be able to fly, or to be invisible. I had them vote. Then I had each one discuss why he or she would rather fly or be invisible.

I tend to believe that the invisible people are less trustworthy than the flying people. Flying, you might want to do out of pure enjoyment. But being invisible is always about getting over on somebody. Sure enough, the invisible kids (and most of them were invisible kids) were all about playing tricks on people, stealing candy, pulling people's pants down, etc. One kid said he wanted to walk through walls. I called him on that. Just because you are invisible doesn't mean you can walk through walls. That's totally different. He insisted that invisible people could walk through walls, but he was shouted down by the other kids. He had been confusing being invisible with being a ghost. (Kids today!)

I felt morally superior because I was a person who could fly, rather than be invisible. I wasn't one of these sneaky kids. A school administrator walked by just then and I stopped her and asked her which kind of person she was. And she said she was a person who could fly. I asked her why and she said, "Because then I could fly above everyone and see what they were doing."

What a weird answer. I think she's secretly an invisible person.

Adventures in punctuation

2006-10-17T18:23:00.000-07:00

I was asked to work with 4 1st graders on ending punctuation. Periods, question marks, exclamation points. So I said, If I say "STOP!" what punctuation mark would I use?

Girl 1: Question mark.
Me: I'm not really asking a question though. STOP!
Boy 1: STOP! (he repeats people.)
Me: Right! I yell STOP! What punctuation mark would that be?
Girl 2: Period.
Me: Well if I said, calmly, "Stop." It would be. But, say, there's a robber who just took my car and I'm running after him and I yell, "STOP!!!" What then?
Boy 2: You don't need a punctuation mark. You need a gun.

Water Cooler Talk

2006-10-11T18:42:00.000-07:00

Actually, copy machine talk. My friend, the teacher, S, had a vanilla-latte granola bar that she wanted to share with me. Knowing how I don't like to eat other people's germs, she let me break a piece off the other end of the granola bar.

Then she said, "If we were the last two people on earth, and all we had to eat was this vanilla latte granola bar, and all that was left was a part I bit from, would you still eat it?"

And I said, "No. I would eat you."

Then, trying to act morally superior she said, "I've always said that if I was in that situation, I'd rather be eaten than eat a person."

But she wasn't going to draw me into a war of the virtues. I said, "Good. Then we'll get along just fine becasue I'm making a hamburger out of your butt."

Bad Shower

2006-10-10T19:42:00.000-07:00

Since my son is 8.5 years old and has been showering independently for some time I assumed that he knew the basic techniques of showering. Today I found out otherwise. I wanted him to use this new conditioner in his hair because it (his hair) is very long and always dry and tangly. I wanted to actually observe him using this conditioner, which was quite expensive, so I parked myself outside the shower.

I learned the following things:

1. When he wets his hair he only gets roughly 1 square inch of it wet.
2. He does not wash any of his face or body.
3. He uses only 1/8 of a teaspoon of shampoo.
4. He applies it with his right index finger, swirling it around his hair delicately.
5. He rinses 1 square inch of his hair. Not necessarily the square inch that has the shampoo in it.
6. He steps completely out of the shower before starting to dry himself.
7. He does not unfold the towel when he dries himself.
8. His drying technique consists of wiping his eyes with the towel and then gingerly dabbing random parts of his body with the folded up towel.

This explains so much. It explains why his hair doesn't get clean and how it can smell dirty after he "washes" it. It explains how he can emerge from the shower with chocolate ice cream still on his face. It explains why the floor is soaking wet after his shower.

After this demonstration I confronted my husband: "Did you know that C does not know how to take a shower?" And he replied, "I suspected."

Dear Prohibition....

2006-09-25T17:06:00.001-07:00

Dear Prohibition T. Philip,
Thank you for your recent letter concerning the size of my penis. I appreciate your concern. Unfortunately I am not at this time able to invest in your product which would turn my member into a steel love machine. I have already spent too much of money on the penny stock that is going to explode on MONDAY. If you need more information, ask Tommie H. Globular about it. I also have already spent too much money at Stagnant U. Unravelled's pharmacy on a product that will get rid of my UGLY fat forever.
Siuncerely,
Georgianne B. Birdbath

Dear Prohibition....

2006-09-25T17:06:00.000-07:00

The Father of Our Country and his evil red blinking eyes

2006-09-23T20:16:00.000-07:00

We're spending a couple of days in and around our nation's capital, which is one of my favorite cities in the world. Towering over everything is the Washington Monument. My family has a long history of lies and deception about the Washington Monument. It's one of our great traditions. Our conversation goes like this:

me: That George Washington. He was a great king of America.
c: I know. And look at his throne! It's so tall and pointy.
k: (rolls eyes)
S: And what about his crown?
c: He didn't have a crown. Just a throne.
me: Not too many people knew about his evil side.
c: We do. If you look at the Washington Monument at night you can see those evil red blinking eyes.
me: Right! Because George Washington actually HAD evil, red blinking eyes. It was a secret though.
k: Can you please say something that is true?
s: Like how he killed himself?
me: Right. And do you know why, C?
c: Yes. Because he was so sad about the terrible things he saw during the war.
me: Wrong! Many people think that. But it was because of his terrible teeth. They hurt so much that he committed suicide.
k: (sighs)
me: K, have you studied this in history class yet? Maybe you should write down what we're saying so you can share it with the class.

I can't wait until tomorrow morning. We 're going to the top of the Washington Monument for the first time ever. I can't wait to share my family's knowledge with the other visitors.

Myth-busting in 3rd grade

2006-09-21T12:40:00.000-07:00

When I picked C up from school he complained, "Today was supposed to be the Day of Peace," (waving his peace pinwheel that he made in honor of the day) "but it wasn't. It was an extremely unpeaceful day."

I asked him what happened, because it is not unheard of for him to be involved in kickball disputes at recess, some of which involve hand-to-hand combat around 2nd base.

"People were telling the Myth of the Bathroom and I don't like it."

"What is the Myth of the Bathroom?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But you have me all curious now. i've gotta know!"

"Don't worry, Mom. It's nothing life threatening."

"Is it something scary?"

"It would be," he said, "if I believed it. But I don't. Because it's a myth."

"Is the myth that there is something scary in the bathroom?" (I'm getting closer here.)

"Yes."

All of a sudden I remembered something I heard last year. "Is it a ghost?"

"yes. They say that if you flush three times, then turn the light off, and then shine a flashlight at the mirror, you'll see a ghost. With a knife."

"Really? That's crazy! And they believe it?"

"Yes. And they're going to do it. They're going to flush the toilet three times, turn off the light and shine a flashlight at the mirror. And I think it's a really, really bad idea."

"Why?" (worried that C kinda sorta believed it.)

"Because it's a waste of water."

A rite of passage...or not

2006-09-04T06:08:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to wonder how much longer my almost 12 year old daughter will be trick or treating. I've sort of been worried that this might be the year she quits, and that makes me sad. When I see little bits of her childhood slip away I realize how temporary childhood really is.

I asked her if she would go trick or treating. She said yes, of course.

I was so happy. I made a promise to myself to really treasure her innocence and childlikeness for as long as it lasts. I asked her what she was going to dress up as.

"Death."

Planning for disaster

2006-08-05T16:40:00.000-07:00

We had the mother of all storms last night. Around midnight I started to see a lot of lightning out the window and hear a lot of thunder. Every lightning strike was getting closer. It became clear to me that our time on earth was limited because we were going to be struck by lightning. I've had this fear since I was a kid and I have no doubt that I will die by being hit by lightning or burning to death in a building that is hit by lightning. Either that or I will fall from a very tall building.

So as I lay there I had a lot to figure out. Because I didn't want to die. One thing I knew is that I had to put some clothes on. If we got hit by lightning I wouldn't have time to get dressed and I couldn't run down the street naked so I put a t-shirt on. I put a pair of shorts right next to the bed because that was where I drew the line.

Then I came up with my plan. I got a cell phone and put it on my nightstand so that I could call 911 at any stage in this process. I knew I couldn't leave my kids behind so I'd run upstairs and wake them up by shrieking at them and tell them run out of the house to our neighbors to our right because they are our nicest neighbors. I'd open the dog's crate but (here is where I hang my head in shame) I wouldn't mess with the leash because I didn't think there would be time. So our dog would probably run away. I would let the guinea pigs burn to death in the basement.

Once I had it all sorted out I lay there with my eyes wide open and waited for our house to be struck by lightning. I got maybe 2 hours of sleep.

This morning I complained to my husband about how little I slept because of the storm. He said "Oh I heard a couple of lightning crashes but I just went back to sleep."

And I said, "But I was so worried! I was scared about how we'd all make it out of the house alive! I was up all night planning!"

He said, "Yeah that's why I could sleep. I knew you had it covered."

Ha! You heard it here first!

2006-08-03T12:32:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday I reported that Katherine McPhee was walking around funny onstage. Now it's reported http://www.charlotte.com/mld/charlotte/entertainment/music/15190616.htm that indeed she WAS walking funny. She broke her foot backstage. It doesn't mention her acting loopy, but I assure you that she was. And you know you can trust me. Because I am a "country person."

Review of American Idol Concert in Charlotte, NC

2006-08-01T20:09:00.000-07:00

First off was Mandisa. She looked beautiful. Her voice was fantastic. She sang "I'm Every Woman" which I hate. But she did a good job. Then, and this is a bit odd, she said she had a crush on Ruben Studdard and dedicated the next song to him and put his name in the song over and over again. I fully expected Ruben to walk out on the stage to sing a duet but he didn't. Then she moved from one big man to another and dedicated the next song to God, which got a lot of applause from the crowd, because he is almost as popular in Charlotte as Chris Daughtry is.

Then she sang a duet with Ace. This is where things got a little ugly in the crowd. Some teenage girls started shrieking at this incredibly high pitch that you'd think an old person like me wouldn't be able to hear, but I could. It was this long sustained shriek, with just enough space between them to say "OMG it's Ace." My friend, who is a teacher, was not going to put up with that, no sir. She marched up there and said something like, "You're irritating the hell out of us." I think she said "hell" because on the way to the arena we crossed a street and almost got hit by a city bus and I said, "JESUS!" and my friend explained to her daughters that it wasn't really swearing for me to say it because I was Jewish, and I explained, "That's right. We just think he was a great teacher so it's not swearing." So I think she felt empowered to say "hell."

Anyway, there was some verbal bantering but the girls were quiet after that. As for Ace, he sang "Father Figure" which was very nice and sexy, and he did those fluttery "Ace eye" afterwards. Then he said he was going to "rock out" and he sang Maroon 5's "Harder to Breathe" during which he flung his head forward and backward so that his hair flew around like he was a rock star.

After Ace, Lisa Tucker performed. She was a pleasant surprise. First of all she was really cute in this black shirt with all these little string-like straps in the back. I was a little worried that something would go wrong with the shirt. She played piano and sang "Your Song" (which caused my daughter and her friend to gag in disgust but I thought it was nice) and "Someone Saved My Life." She seemed more comfortable singing behind the piano than she ever did on the show. Plus her eyebrows didn't scare me because she was so far away.

Then she and "My Best Friend Paris" sang a duet. Paris was a little odd, I thought. She didn't sound fantastic, and the cameras kept getting unfortunate angles on her butt. She sang "Midnight Train To Georgia" and didn't do it as well as on the show. Then she sang some other song and I don't know what the hell it was but she sort of ran around the stage a lot and did a provocative dance with a chair.

Next was Bucky who came out and sang Superstition. I thought he did a pretty good job on the song, actually, but I kept on trying to figure out what kind of song it is if Bucky sings Stevie. Then he put his cowbow hat and did a little talking to the crowd and he said it was great to be back in "North Cackalackie." Then he sang "Give Me the Beat Boys, " and I thought he was just fine. I didn't hate him at all. But he did the same hair waving thing that Ace did. I think they should probably work it out in advance so that they don't do the same thing. But here I have to note that his hair looked freshly washed and conditioned, which was not always the case during the show.

But then came Kellie Pickler. First thing I noticed was that she was wearing a wig. Remember she got that haircut? Well the haircut is gone. So it's either a wig or a weave. I don't care, but I'm just saying. She sang "You're the One that I want, hoo hoo hoo" with Bucky. It was just cute as a button in a Hee Haw kind of way. She talked a little bit about how she's glad to be back home with the good food. Then she saw a sign in the crowd for her and said, "Hey, it's got a pickle on it!" Then she sang a couple of songs but I can't remember what they were. They were eh.

Next was Chris. He started out with "Whole Lotta Love." Then "Dead or Alive." And then "Renegade." He was in his element in a big arena. Crowd went crazy.

Then he did a duet with Elliott. But what was it? I recorded it on my secret little recorder so I'll check later. Elliott sang next. He is now a smooth operator. I forget what he sang. He did that "Moody's Mood for Love," dedicating it to "the ladies" which was a little lounge-lizardy. But the 11yo girls with us loved him. They screamed. They made dreamy eyes at him. Elliott! Elliott! In our city, breathing the same air. Elliott.

Then the guys (except Taylor) sang "Patience" by Guns N' Roses. It was very nice. I wish I had recorded it with my secret little recorder but I didn't because I thought it was going to suck.

Next, Kat. I believe she was on drugs. She was walking around funny so maybe she hurt her foot and was on pain meds. She was loopy. She started out by saying how nice it was to see all these "country people." The audience sort of laughed but it was a "WTF laugh." Her voice isn't all back yet so she didn't sound so great. She sang "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree." Of course she started the song crouched down because that is what she does. Then she got strange. She called Kellie Pickler up to the stage. Kellie had been sitting in the front row, wearing a hoodie, which is a disguise! Kat said that Kellie was her best friend and that she should sit on the stage while Kat sang "Over the Rainbow." So Kellie sat there. It was a little bit awkward. At one point Kat came over to where Kellie was and sort of hugged her as she sang. Kellie sang along but Kat was sure not to let the microphone get close enough to pick up her voice because that would ruin the song.

Then was Taylor. Now I love Taylor. I voted for him. I defended him against the naysayers. But here's where I have to say: he was not great. He expended a lot of energy into being Taylor Hicks, doing his crazy dancing. He didn't seem to bother too much with actual singing. I think he CAN sing. But he just didn't do it that much.

Then there were some cheesy group numbers during which time I went to the restroom.

As we left, they were giving away free pop tarts! They were mint chocolate chip and they kept them frozen and they were awesome!

Is that a milkbone or are you just happy to see me?

2006-07-20T07:40:00.000-07:00

I decided to give my dog a haircut. I couldn't find the scissors so I got out the clippers. He sat very nicely. I was amazed at how still he was while I cut his hair. I thought to myself, "I'm definitely going to have to brag about him to the owners of dogs who do not sit nicely for haircuts. I will mock their dogs." I'm sorry that sounds very competitive and not nice. But it is what I was thinking. I was mentally making a list of dogs I could mock.

Then I noticed it. I'm being careful of wording here because I don't want a bunch of pervs to find my blog again. But let's just say that he was really enjoying the haircut. Visibly enjoying it.

I shrieked. Because I didn't know that a neutered dog could still, um, enjoy haircuts that way. And I said to my son, "Is it supposed to look like that?" pointing to the part of his body that was displaying enjoyment.

Now I don't know why I turned to a child to explain this to me. He got up close and squinted at it. And he said, "Well, usually it's not so red. And so stiff. But I think that's OK."

Well I ended that haircut then and there. Because it just seemed wrong.

Barf bags to carry ads

2006-07-19T12:05:00.000-07:00

US Airways has figured out how to pull itself out of its profit slump. It's going to sell ads on barf bags. Really. This is a pretty big blow to me, because my kids have always turned barf bags into hand puppets and a puppet with an ad on its face loses some appeal.

An aviation consultant guy says this: "Barf bags have a lot of shelf life - people aren't barfing as much in planes as they used to." A point to ponder.

2006-06-17T16:46:00.000-07:00

I ended up with one of those satellite system thingies that tell you how to get places when you drive. I'm sure there's a name for them. I wouldn't have bought one, but it fell off the back of a truck and became mine. Just kidding. My dad gave it to me.

Anyway, it's pretty neat. You can change the voice between American English and British English. I got all excited and changed it to British English and then looked for the menu item to change it to Colin Firth. But there was no way to do that! I couldn't even change it to a man's voice!

I can't wait to use it when I'm going somewhere I don't know how to get to. I used it today when I was going somewhere I know how to get to. And I didn't follow the instructions. It said, "Turn right in 1/2 mile" but I turned before then. Then the voice said, "Recalculating" and it tried to pick up the pieces. It then said "Turn right in 1/4 mile" but I didn't listen again, and I went straight. I might be imagining it but I think I heard a note of annoyance when it said "Recalculating" again.

Then I almost felt guilty when I didn't follow its next instruction. And it said, "You bloody git! Why do you ask me for directions and then ignore me?" And I said, "Listen, Lady, I'm right here! I don't have to turn! Idjit." It didn't really say those things. But I did feel guilty for being so stubborn about going my way.

If it had been Colin Firth's voice I would have done what he said to do. Anything.

2006-06-13T14:07:00.000-07:00

I was playing "Ad-Lib" with C this morning. That's the game where you dump out the dice with letters on them and you try to make a bunch of words in, crossword style.

So we're playing and he said, "Oh, I see one word I could make but it's rude. It's not a BAD word. Just a RUDE word. It's B-U-T-T."

Then later on, he said, "Oh, I see a word I could make but it's an UNKIND word. It is D-U-M-B."

I said that he could make any words except the really, really bad ones. Like A-S-S, which is the absolute worst word he knows. Then I told him that one day we would play "Bad Word Ad-Lib" where we make all the bad words.

One turn it was killing me because I could have put down C-U-M, and then I could have used 'C' twice, and that's 4 points a pop. But I didn't. Because he is just a little child. It was painful to restrain myself. He won that round.

A Hallmark Moment - find just the right graduation card

2006-06-08T03:55:00.000-07:00

I overheard this conversation around the graduation cards at Target

woman: Should we get the red one or the green one? (note: the red one had a message lauding the graduate's many achievements and talked about reaching dreams; the green one said "congratulations.")

man: (looks at cards for a while) I don't know. Did she really do all that well?

woman: well....

man: I would have laughed if someone gave me the red card. I graduated by the skin of my teeth, not by no flyin' colors, you know.

(they got the green card.)

And it made me thing that there should be a new line of greeting cards that express ambiguity or apathy:

"You're finally graduating. That term paper you bought really paid off!"
"Your dreams stretch out like a collection of unreachable goals. Take the fast food job."

For marriage:

"We took a vote and we give it one year. Have a great year!"
"You've finally met someone whose standards match your looks."

I couldn't sleep so I wrote this blog entry

2006-06-05T20:08:00.000-07:00

First of all, why is anybody still taking the sleeping aid Ambien? First we hear that people on Ambien are getting up, asleep, in the middle of the night to eat. And I don't mean luncheon meats. These people are cooking. On the stove. Asleep. Then you get Patrick Kennedy who gets up at 2:45AM to vote, on ambien, and crashes his car. The car part is bad, you know. You shouldn't drive while asleep or impaired. But the voting in congress? Why the hell not. Now the latest story is this woman, this middle class mother, who is accused of setting 11 fires in a well to do neighborhood is using the Ambien defense. Says she doesn't remember doing it. And if she did, she was asleep.

So I was thinking of taking some Ambien because clearly I'd get more done at night than I do when awake during the day. I could do my dishes and clean the bathroom and cook dinner for tomorrow and wake up rested. Just don't let me vote in Congress.

How I was nice to my husband

2006-06-02T16:46:00.000-07:00

This is especially for http://www.yetaccurate.blogspot.com/ who has trouble figuring out how to be nice to her husband.

Last night my husband was painting the kitchen. This is really involved because there are a lot of weird angles and cabinets to work around. He was taping because he doesn't use the "just be real careful" technique.

It was about 10PM and I said, "Hey, do you want me to help? Or should I just go to bed because I'm very tired." (first nice thing)

He agreed that I should go to bed.

I went into the bedroom. Then I walked all the way OUT of the bedroom and said, "And be careful on the ladder, OK?" (second nice thing)

It's easier than you'd think to be nice to people.

Music Instruction in Schools

2006-06-02T14:25:00.000-07:00

I'll skip the background information and just jump in at the point where my friend, S (the teacher) and I find ourselves teaching 24 4th-6th graders how to sing "New York, New York."

Neither of us can actually carry a tune, and our individual tunes weren't in complement to each other's. Not only that but we were rarely singing the same word at the same time because we would get confused about where the dramatic pauses were. And we took turns laughing so hard that we couldn't continue singing.

There were a lot of blank looks on their faces until one 6th grade boy said, "They just murdered my ears."

And then we taught them how to do that chorus line kicking thing.

Then I did a bunch of directing because they were acting out a play. My directions were mostly along the lines of (yelling): "YOU PEOPLE BEHIND THE CURTAIN NEED TO BE QUIET!" and "For the hundredth time, keep your hands off the marbles!" and "Then just PRETEND it's chocolate pudding! Are you acting or what?" and "The audience is here! Nobody wants to see your backside!" and "No! We're not adlibbing! I wrote this play! Say it the way I wrote it!" and "Make your farting noises louder!"

A classic moment was when one boy read this line, "And things were never the same in the classroom again." But he left off the "again" so I said, "Again." And he said, "And things were never the same the classroom." And I said, "Again." And he said, "And things were never the same in the classroom." This exchange went on an embarrassingly long time until finally I said, "READ THE WORDS!" and he said, "Oh! I was reading 'again' but I wasn't saying it!"

Finally I turned to S and said, "If I were you and I had to teach these kids every day I would kill myself."

And she said, "I know."

And one of the kids is my daughter.

Welcome googlers! You want more about crickets?

2006-05-28T19:12:00.000-07:00

To the people getting here by googling "how do I get my crickets fight each other," I'm so glad you showed up. I have two suggestions for how to get them to fight. I'm sure that some commentators have more ideas. Maybe the people who are always getting here by googling "item stuck in anus" can lie on their sides and type in some ideas.

1. Tell one cricket that the other one said its mother smells like a grasshopper
2. While they are sleeping, hit one cricket on the head with a monopoly piece and then put the piece in the hand of the other sleeping cricket.

Hygiene and the child

2006-05-28T04:33:00.000-07:00

I told C to take a shower and wash his hair. He is 8 and doesn't shower as often as he should, but when he gets in there he is quite happy to stay a long time. He had been in there for 20 minutes so I thought I'd check his progress.

I stood outside the shower door and said, "C? Are you almost done?"

He had his hands up in the air and he was swaying to some imaginary song, looking down and watching his special body part sway too. (I said "special body part" not because I don't like to say the actual word, but because I get skeeved thinking about what kind of people would find this site by googling "8 year old boy" and the name of that body part.)

C: Yup! Almost done!
Me: Did you wash your hair?
C: What?
Me: Did you wash your hair with shampoo?
C: What?
Me: (yelling) DID YOU PUT SHAMPOO ON YOUR HAIR?
C: (surprised) Oh, was I supposed to put shampoo on my hair?

Like it was the first time he had ever took a shower and washed his hair.

Me: YES! Put shampoo on your hair! Rub it around with your hands! Rinse it with water!
C: (agreeable) OK!

What is with that?

Restaurant food

2006-05-19T19:58:00.000-07:00

So we were at a restaurant and I ordered a salad. In it there was this very hard piece of something that was probably cheese. I put it in my mouth and chewed and chewed, but it didn't taste very food-like. It had a slight parmesan flavor, but the texture was more like very hard plastic. But I kept working at it and finally ate it.

And it got me thinking about how much trust I put in the food I get at restaurants. That thing could have been anything, but I ate it, even though it was difficult to do.

Some people find fingers in their food and freak out and call the police and the hospital and the media. I'd eat it no matter how difficult it was to chew and say, "Wow. That was one hard sausage."

Dick Cheney is probed.

2006-05-13T20:19:00.000-07:00

CIA leak probe looks at Cheney's notes

Tell me the truth. When you read the above headline, accompanied by the picture on the left, did you think that it said "Cheney's nose?" Because his nose is in the middle of the photo? And because noses do leak? And noses can be probed?

Um, or is it just me?

More Loch Ness Monster research

2006-05-09T19:37:00.000-07:00

You might remember the 3rd graders doing "research" on the Loch Ness Monster. They have continued this project. Their research consists of googling images of the Loch Ness Monster and then saying, "Ooh, look! He is real!"

I don't consider this valid research and I felt compelled yesterday to inform them of that.

Me: You know, not everything on the internet is true.
E: This is true. I see the picture.
Me: Look, I can make a picture of you that has horns and a spiked tail.
E: Like the devil?
Me: (wondering why I came up with that example, but forging ahead)Yes, like the devil. And I can put it up on a website called "E.L. is the Devil.com"
E: (silent. scared.)
Me: And would that make it true?
E: No.
Me: Do you see now why you can't believe everything on the internet?
E: Ms. J?
Me: Yes?
E: Can I print out this picture of the Loch Ness Monster?

My dog shows his ass

2006-05-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

Today we took a family outing to Petsmart to get several items for the furrier members of our family. We brought our dog. I will call him S. As we walked in I was so proud of him for not barking at the other dogs.

We walked past a group of dogs at a training session and I thought to myself, "These dogs are learning just basic commands, and S is so advanced. He sits, he comes, he lies down, he stays, he shakes paws." I had thought about enrolling him in the classes there, but instead I went with a private trainer instead. That way he could go at his own pace. Because he is such a smart dog.

And then S crapped on the floor. Right in front of the dog class. S is one of those dogs who walks as he craps. So there was a whole little line of poops on the floor.

I was directed toward the "oops" bags. And I explained, "He never does this at home."

But I don't think they believed me.

Why Babies Do That

2006-05-06T06:50:00.000-07:00

You know what is weird about babies? The head-banging thing. What is with that? Why would anyone intentionally bang their head against a wall? And not seem to mind?

Babies are interesting people. And we're wired to know how to communicate with them. Well, most of us are. My dad isn't. He talks to babies as if they are miniature bald-headed, drooling tax accountants, and then wonders why they don't respond to him. But most people instinctively know how babies like to be talked to and held and moved around. But we rarely think about WHY babies are like they are. Why do they like to play peek-a-boo? Why do they love to stare at faces? Why do they respond like they do to a smile?

Jennifer Margulis solves the mystery of babies in "Why Babies Do That" from Willow Creek Press. This is a neat little book, with chapters like "Why Do Babies Rub Their Eyes?" and "Why Do Babies Grasp Onto Things So Tightly?" If you're jonesing for pictures of some delicious babies or you need a baby shower gift this book is perfect.

But don't be fooled into thinking it's just a gift book. For one thing, this is the ONLY book around that is both beautiful and also has pictures of baby acne AND baby poop. It's not pulling punches! And also, Jennifer Margulis isn't your run of the mill writer and mom. She speaks about 30 languages (OK I'm exaggerating) has taught in three different continents, and has written everywhere on the most diverse topics imaginable. If she's gonna write a book about babies, it's not going to be window dressing. You're going to learn something from it and enjoy yourselves while you're doing it.

But the babies are really cute too!

Yay! The fish died!

2006-05-05T18:23:00.000-07:00

The library beta fish finally died. I was so happy. I hated having a living thing to take care of in there. Someone had put it there and promised she would come and take care of it, but of course she didn't. I didn't really mind feeding it, and it ate these little food pellets that never clouded up the water.

But eventually green stuff starts growing and you're supposed to clean the water and bowl. I hate cleaning fish bowls and changing water, which is why I don't have any fish at home and why our sea monkeys never lived as long or as full of lives as they should have. They never even got to wear the little crowns. I do take the blame for that because I brought them to life. But the fish wasn't supposed to be my responsibility.

So my approach as the green stuff grew was to add more water. I guess I figured I dilute it so that the algae would have proportionally less volume in the fish's habitat. This is good reasoning, I think.

But two days ago it was over. The fish was dead. And this time it was really dead. I was so happy I let out a little "Woo-Hoo!"

I wrote a note to one of the elementary school teachers:

Dear V,
Would you like a dead fish?
For fertilizer?
For science?
For art?
-J

She sent the note back to me via a child messenger, and it looked like this:

Dear V,
Would you like a dead fish?
For fertilizer?
For science?
For art?
-J

J,
No.
-V

So I sent the note to another teacher, and she said she did want the dead fish. For fertilizer.

So then I had to get the dead fish out of the bowl into a cup. I had to use a fork to get it out. I sort of had to balance it on the fork because I didn't like the idea of piercing the fish with the fork. It seemed somehow disrespectful. Then I saw another adult, a parent, walking by the library.

I said, "Hey, S! Would you bring a little something up to L? She's expecting it."

And S said, "Sure!" and I gave her the cup, and it was a moment to savor forever, the look on S's face.

And that's why I love my job.

I want to apologize

2006-05-02T08:03:00.000-07:00

To the people who got to my blog by doing searches, I'm really sorry. I know that you were disappointed, because my blog doesn't answer any of your pressing questions. I'll respond here, now that I know what combination of keywords brought you here.

"calories burned while running on treadmil": The answer is a million. Yes, a million. And not only that, if you plan on running 30 minutes and you stay just ONE SECOND longer, it's two million. So keep at it!

"the shoemaker's wife, the play": A veritable tour de force. I laughed, I cried. You might know the story, but until you see it live, you don't really know the story. When you've seen the play, it becomes a part of you forever. You will yearn for those elves to sneak in your house in the middle of the night and tidy up. Don't miss it!

"does a laminating machine give off toxic fumes?" YES! And that's why I love it so much. It's almost as good as the hot glue gun or burying your nose in new shoes. It even ranks up there with the smell of a baseball glove in the oven.

"objects stuck up anus": My friend, I know what you're after. You want to know if you are the first. Has anyone else ever suffered such a fate? The answer is no. You are the first person to somehow end up with an unlikely object stuck up your anus. No, just kidding! You'd be surprised at how many people end up at this blog with similar keywords. So rest easy. But get that damn thing out of there.

"suburban cliche": Moi?

"satan in the smoke twin towers attack" Yes he was. You can tell by the horns. Because Satan has horns and a tail. Everyone knows that. Just as Jesus has long, light brown hair. That is so that they can be recognized in smoke or grilled cheese sandwiches. Occasionally they petition the Big Man (Woman/Being/Spirit) to change their image, but their requests are always turned down. If suddenly Satan appeared as a spectacled accountant, or Jesus dressed as a janitor, or Mary had spiked hair, nobody would recognize them in the dirty window or highway overpass, and what would be the good of that? This is only common sense.

"how many calories does a 7 year old boy need?" Two million. That's why you need to put him on the treadmill for 31 minutes. A normal amount of activity is simply not enough, which is why you often see 7 year old boys doing things like spinning in circles or running into each other.

"child deoderant": I recommend having perpetual allergies so that you can not smell your children. That is what I do.

"restless nyquil": No, Nyquil does not make you restless. I'm sorry. Nothing can make you restless because I am the only one.

"burning plastic fumes": Thank you! Please send them to me and I'll pay you later.

I hope that this addresses all your questions and concerns!

Why I am not a classrom teacher

2006-05-02T05:37:00.000-07:00

Since I'm such a beloved librarian, a couple of times I've been asked if I wanted to go for the teacher training. I always say no, but now I've narrowed down the reason why. To me, everything is just for entertainment. Everything.

So yesterday a teacher asked me to sit in her class while she attended to some other important business. The kids were sharing reports that they had written with the class. Most of the reports were not entertaining to me, so I doodled. I drew, among other images, these things:

1. A child in the class who has a long braid.
2. A farmer on a hayride. He is holding in one hand a pitchfork and in the other a chicken.
3. A frog waving hello. This is a standard doodle of mine, from way back.
4. A beatnik guy.
5. Several increasingly complex geometric solids.
6. A guy wearing sunglasses made of tiny bubbles.

But a couple of the presentations were interesting to me. One boy read a report on cricket fighting in China. I felt that it deserved some followup, so I asked him, "Do they train the crickets to fight?" "What?" "The crickets. Do they have like a little gym with a punching bag?"

He said he didn't think so.

Then another kid read a report on Australia. He had formatted it like a brochure from a travel agency, but with many more words. He even gave a hotel suggestion. So I asked him, "How much is a ticket?" "What?" "The plane ticket. Can I use VISA?"

He did not know the answer.

Kids today.

Ugly Furniture

2006-04-29T14:01:00.000-07:00

I saw this furniture on the back of a pickup truck today. I defy you to find uglier furniture. There should never be a barn on furniture, unless the furniture is meant to be ironic. The fact that the furniture was on the back of a truck made it even better. The guy driving the truck looked very sad. So I think he was bringing the furniture home.

My white trash spa night

2006-04-28T05:29:00.000-07:00

I started out at Cost Cutters hair salon. This is one of those places where you just walk in and you take your chances with the hair cutting person. I have great faith in the average person to cut hair, so it's fine with me. In fact, if it wasn't a social faux pas, I'd bring scissors into the school and ask one of the 8th graders to do it.

As I was waiting a guy came in with a long beard. He had that "not so fresh" smell about him. The two hairdressers were busy so they took my phone number. Then they asked the beard guy his phone number.

He said, "No."
Hair dresser: "What do mean, no?"
He said, "Just my name. Mark."

Then a lady came in. She apparently had been there before and had established a rapport with the other hairdresser. I'll call this hairdresser Martha. I'll call the other one Sharon. Those names have NO SIGNIFICANCE. Do not search for it.

Lady: How long will it be?
Martha: About 45 minutes.
Lady: OK. I'll come back another time.
Martha: Do you want a reservation?
Sharon: We don't do resevations!
Martha: Yes we do.
Sharon: No, we only do reservations for Angel.
Martha: yes, we do.
Sharon: Whatever.
Martha: When would you like your reservation for?
Lady: When can I get it?
Martha: how about in 45 minutes?
Lady: OK!

Let me note here the skilled sales technique of Martha. When the lady was just supposed to come back in 45 minutes she wasn't going to. But when she had a reservation for the same time, she was. Brillliant.

Martha turned to Sharon: You don't have to get an attitude!
Sharon: I don't have an attitude.
Martha: Oh you have an attitude.
Sharon: NEXT!

That was me. I went back to subject my head to an angry person with a bad attitude and sharp scissors. Meanwhile Martha chose that time to tell her customer about a book she was reading about how to not let negative co-workers ruin your mood.

Sharon was grumbling. I'll skip the details of my haircut.

Martha finished with her customer and called back Mark.

Martha: Would you like a shampoo?
Mark: No.
Martha: How about a beard trim?
Mark: No. I just want you to cut a square in the back of my hair, as short as you can make it.
Silence.
Martha: Do you want me to make your hair spiky?
Mark: God, no.

When I was done with my haircut (OK, I won't quite skip it. At one point Sharon held up a section of my hair straight in the air and said, "You want me to cut off about an inch?" I said, "it's kind of hard to tell how short I want it when it's held up in the air." Sharon said, "That's the only way I can tell an inch!" And I thought "That's reassuring" but said, "OK.")

Anyway, then I went next door to the waxing place to get my eyebrows waxed. Getting my eyebrows waxed makes me feel pretty and less like a schnauzer. I go to this place run by very nice Chinese ladies. When I went back to the waxing room I lay down on the chair and she looked at my face.

"Lip too?" as she peered at my mustache.

usually I remove my mustache first to avoid this very conversation.

"Uh, I don't know. That seems like it would hurt."

"Lip very hairy. You need wax."

"OK."

It sort of hurt a little worse than the eyebrow wax but I still liked it. I'm weird that way.

My tenuous grasp on reality

2006-04-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

I was working in the library and someone came in looking for a teacher named D. She asked "Is she laminating?" (the laminator is in the library) but I thought she said, "Is she levitating?" But the scary thing is that I looked up to the ceiling before I answered.

My son's first baseball game

2006-04-20T13:53:00.000-07:00

C is 8. He wears an orange t-shirt with number 6 on it. Those are his stats. He played shortstop for the first game and I tried to not be too vain about it, because I think that shortstop is the best possible position. When I played softball as a kid I played shortstop because my favorite player on the Phillies was Larry Bowa, the shortstop. C looks good out there. He has very long hair that looks very beautiful coming down from his baseball cap. I think he is a beautiful shortstop.

Anyway, this is what I like about how he plays shortstop. He is ready. He's not one of those kids weeding right field. No way. He is readier than ready. He holds the glove in front of his mouth at all times. My fear is that if he actually caught a ball it would knock out his teeth. But my worries are unfounded. One time he almost caught a ball, a line drive. It landed unexpectedly in his glove and he was as surprised as anybody. The crowd (such as it is, the part that was paying attention) made a sound like this: "Woo!" It would have been "Woo-hoo!" but then he dropped the ball so it was more like "Woo-aw." It's the same sound they made in basketball when a kid would take a shot and you'd think it was going to go in but then it fell. He is pretty good at stopping grounders. One time there was a runner at first base, and C stopped a grounder and knew he was supposed to throw it to second base. But the second baseman was pulling up weeds, so C did the next best thing and threw it to centerfield.

When he was hitting he was just (as Randy would say on American Idol) "awright." His first cut looked like he was playing golf. The second one looked like he was chopping wood. But then he connected with the third one. (Or maybe the coach just threw it accurately enough at his bat.) It dribbled into the infield and he was off. He booked to first base. When he got there, the coach told him to stop, which annoyed C because that is no way to get a home run. He had words with the coach, which I had advised him to not do. Before the game I told him that the most important thing was to not argue with the coach or the umpire because they might throw him out of the game.

He said, "But nobody is always right. Even umpires and coaches make mistakes" and I answered, "But still."

So then the next batter came up and hit the ball and C took off. He touched 2nd and ran to 3nd. The pitcher (that is the player who stands next to the coach-pitcher and holds up the ball to stop play) held up the ball and yelled, "Time!" But there was no stopping C. He rounded 3rd and ran down the line and the coach was yelling "GEt back!" But C didn't listen, because this was the same guy who had prevented him from getting a home run to begin with. He stomped triumphantly on home plate, and then was sent back to 3rd.

That was when I noticed that he was wearing sandals instead of sneakers. We have a lot of learning to do.

Secret Pal Drama

2006-04-12T06:38:00.000-07:00

So, the school is doing standardized testing each morning this week, and K's class decided to have "secret pals" this week. Each kid chooses a name from the hat and then each day they make a card for their secret pal and on Thursday they bring in a home made gift. So, in this arena, K is a bit of an over achiever. Her secret pal is this boy, A.

The first day she gave him a card which was a collage of funny pictures. It was great. He likes breakdancing so she found these breakdancing comics for some of the pictures.

The second day she made 3-D card and included a little bag of candy in it.

The third day (today) she created this card that folds up into its own envelope, using funky paper.

For tomorrow she is a little worried. She wanted to bake him something, but he is Jewish (as are we) and it's Passover so she needs Matzoh meal (and I warned her: don't expect perfection with this stuff.) And of course our local stores are out of it. So there is a bit of drama and hand-wringing about this situation, along with begging of us to drive to different stores and find matzoh meal, and with the categoric rejection of any other suggestions I offer for the final gift. Luckily I entered a zen-state when she entered adolescence (so that I could better handle shoe shopping with her) and my heartrate is slow and steady and I am not getting drawn into her distress. But I will look around for the matzoh meal. I just won't drive across town.

Meanwhile, the person who has her name is a bit of an underachiever.

The first day he took a piece of paper and folded it in half and wrote, "Good luck on the test."

The second day was more interesting. He typed this on the computer and printed it out. "Good luck on the test. Do your beat." (Never rely on spell-checker, I remind you.)

But then he did something that has been raising the eyebrows and wrinkling the noses in disgust on all the 5th and 6th grade girls. He wrote "Hint: I am a boy." And then he drew a heart.

Let me tell you, K is not pleased at all where this is going. I asked her what it means exactly when a boy gives you a note on which he has drawn a heart and she contorted her face into a configuration too horrible for me to describe.

Ah, the intrigue.

Library conversation....

2006-04-06T06:38:00.000-07:00

This kid,S, is writing a little thing in honor of another kid. For each letter of this other kid, G's, name, S is picking out a word that starts with that letter and describes him. He's ok until he gets to "o."

S: What word should I use for "o"?
me: I don't know. What word with "o" describes him?
S: I don't know.
me: Maybe you should use the dictionary.
S: How about "on time?"
me: Sure, if he's very prompt.
S: He's not always prompt.
me: You could say "on time, usually."
S: I think I'll use the dictionary.
(goes to dictionary)
S: How about "overweight?"
me: Do you think he would like to read that?
S: He really is overweight. I think he weighs 140 pounds.
me: Do you think he'd like to read that?
S: OK, I'll put outstanding.
me: Sure, why not.
S: I need one for "Y." How about "young?"
me: You're all young.
S: Maybe "yoga."
me: Does he like yoga?
S: I don't know.
me: Well.
S: I will put "youngster."
me: OK.

Thoughts while running on the treadmill

2006-04-03T19:14:00.000-07:00

1. Is every step I'm taking shortening the life of my knees? Am I dashing ever closer to a walker?

2. Why the hell did I put that Steely Dan song on my playlist?

3. What are those wires hanging out of the hot water heater? Were they always there? Or did someone sneak into the basement and glue them on just recently? They don't look right.

4. How does the age I enter in my profile affect the number of calories the treadmill says I burned? When I have my birthday (in 9 days, for those keeping track) will I burn more or less calories?

5. What are those little marks all over the display on the treadmill? I know! They are drops of my husband's sweat! Now that is gross.

6. I'll come back later with a damp cloth and clean that up. Yeah, that's likely.

7. When I run my glasses move up and down and I don't see that well. But that's not a good enough reason to stop running.

8. Why do they keep making different sizes of M&M's? They have minis and megas. And it's so pointless because the original M&Ms were perfect. They are the ultimate food. Just the right ratio between candy coating and chocolate. For the same reason I don't like double stuff oreo's.

9. When I was a kid I called the Baltimore Orioles the Baltimore Oreo's. I was disappointed when I learned that they were named after a bird, not a cookie.

10. Whenever I google "Sam Cooke" (and it's more often than I can understand) I always type his name as "Sam Cookie."

11. I really have fine looking fingernails. But I shouldn't be vain about it or they will probably fall off. I'm superstitious that way.

12. I think that it's weird that M is so against American Idol. I was going to leave her a reply saying that after her diatribe I was not going to vote for her, but then I didn't because she seemed very serious about it, and I have a bad history of joking around about things that people are serious about (such as comas and death) so I didn't leave the comment.

13. I have the cutest children in the world. Seriously. I know that other people think that they have the cutest ones, but they are wrong and I am right. I do think that other people have very cute children. Don't get me wrong.

14. How long has this been? It seems like I've been running forever.

15. A second Steely Dan song on the playlist? Was I temporarily channelled by my high school music teacher when I made that list?

16. Let's see how many calories it says I've burned. Shit. That's not even a bowl of freaking Cocoa Pebbles.

17. I like to think about all the people who are not running right now so that I can feel superior to them.

18. I'm thinking that one day very soon I'm going to have a donut. Only I'm afraid that I won't stop. I'll have to plan it just right so that there is no chance of getting more donuts.

19. I wish I had a dog. One that smiles.

20. Hair is a funny thing. Why is hair in some places supposed to be attractive on a woman, and hair on other places isn't? Wouldn't it be weird if we grew hair between our fingerss, or on our eyelids? I'm glad that I don't. That would be quite a cross to bear.

Analyze Restless's Dream.....

2006-03-10T19:09:00.000-08:00

My family and I approach a monastery which doubles as a bed & breakfast. A very nice priest who looks like Bob Newhart gives us a tour. Here I have to admit that I don't really know the difference between a priest and a monk so I will use the terms interchangably. I also want to say that I'm really high on Nyquil right now so this might be a big incoherent with spelling resembling the piss poor spelling you would more typically find in this blog: http://www.yetaccurate.blogspot.com/ And I feel OK saying that I'm high on Nyquil because when I bought it today I got carded. Apparently there are a lot of poor deprived kids out there who can't afford better drugs.

Anyway, he led us through the monastery and showed us all the different areas: the kitchen, the gym - a very nice gym, although there is something strange about a bunch of priests in those black outfits and collars (what are they called? not habits; that's for nuns) working out on the treadmill. Plus it seems dangerous. I hope that they attached that little clip thing onto their outfits in case their robes get caught up in the machinery. We went to their little rec room and that was nice. A bunch of pleasant priests shooting pool and playing the jukebox, as priests do.

Then he showed us to our room. It was great. Very simple (because this is a monastery of course) but warm and comfortable. I was so happy! But just then another priest, who was not as friendly looking as the Bob Newhart priest came in and he was not happy. He said to Bob Newhart: "How many times have I told you? This monastery is just for MONKS." (remember that in this story, priests and monks are the same.)

Then Bob looked us apologetically and mouthed, "I'm sorry. You have to go."

And we left. I was disappointed. I think I would have liked it there.

Are you feeling a little sluggish today?

2006-03-06T17:56:00.000-08:00

If so, you may be interested in knowing that slugs are damn sexy creatures. Consider this (plagiarized from wikipedia):

Slugs are hermaphroditic: having both female and male reproductive organs. Once a slug has located a mate they encircle each other and sperm is exchanged through their protruding genitalia.

I don't know about you, but right now I'm imagining some sultry music as they encircle each other. I'm envisioning undulating slugs, catching their breath, barely able to look at their partner.

But then things go downhill in a hurry.

A commonly seen practice among many slugs is apophallation, when one or both of the slugs chew off the other's penis. The penis of these species is curled like a cork-screw and often becomes entangled in their mate's genitalia in the process of exchanging sperm. Apophallation allows the slugs to separate themselves. Once the penis has been removed, the slug remains female for the rest of its life.

The Lorena Bobbit of the gastropod world!

Sometimes the slug does a drive by:

Various species of slug can also reproduce via tiny "darts" of sperm which they fling in the direction of their mate's genitalia.

But if you are feeling sorry for the slug for doing the procreating without any contact, consider this:

Slug genitalia are also some of the most prodigious in the world. Ariolimax dolichophallus, a species of banana slug (from Greek dolicho-, long and Latin phallus, penis) has the largest penis-to-body length ratio of any animal. The record-holding specimen had a body length of 6 inches, with a phallus length of 32.5 inches, well over five times the body length.

Five times their body length! I hear they have big feet too.

Smells

2006-03-04T16:45:00.000-08:00

So I was thinking about the lovely aroma of the baseball glove cooking in the oven and I was wondering what weird smells do other people love?

I love the smells of many things that are bad for me, including:

burning leaves
markers of all kind
plastic fumes (I used to work at a plastics factory and some days I just breathed in the fumes blissfully as I walked into work.)
play-dough (probably not bad for me to smell it, but it smells so good it's all I can do to restrain myself from eating a can of it - preferably a brand new can, with a perfectly can-shaped chunk of glorious play-dough. I think it has kerosene in it, which can't be good to eat.)

I can't really understand why smelling toxic things is so enjoyable. You'd think that we'd be wired to not like those smells. Or am I the only one who likes them?

On the other hand I have a very strong aversion to body odors of most kinds. I do like the smell of light sweat, especially on a child. Like when they come inside on a spring day after playing. That's heaven. But if that same sweet child breathes in my face I am disgusted. Oh man the morning breath is enough to make me puke. I don't like my own morning breath, and I brush my teeth as soon as I wake up. Sure, I brush them again after breakfast, but will that gob of toothpaste break the bank? Will that 2 minutes make me late? I wish everyone would do this.

Also, I HATE the smell of B.O. I work with children, and there is a certain age, somewhere between 9 and 12, when a child has started to have B.O. but hasn't yet been introduced to deoderant.

And the worst, the very worst, is when people have those silent farts that sort of linger on their clothes for a long time. Do they think I'm an idiot? Do they think I can't pinpoint which person did it? I always know! I have a very sensitive nose! And it's always the most dainty little girls too.

It makes me want to turn on the laminating machine so that I can sniff some burning plastic.

Conversation in the Library 3/2/06

2006-03-02T20:17:00.000-08:00

A 7 year old boy came to visit me. I will call him L.

L: I came down here because I am sad and hungry.

Me: Why are you sad?

L: Mostly because I am so hungry.

Me: What did you eat for breakfast?

L: Two waffles, two muffins, and two slim jims.

Me: That is a lot of food.

L: I am starving. In my classroom I ate a piece of paper.

Me: Really? How big was the paper?

L: Iit was a napkin. A whole napkin.

Me: That's not a good idea. It might give you a stomach ache. Do you want a banana?

L: I don't like bananas.

Me: But you're eating paper?

Slight change to the last post and apology

2006-03-01T19:48:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry. When I said that everyone thought that the baseball glove smelled good in the oven it turns out that wasn't true. It was only me who thought so. Everyone else thought it smelled disgusting. I was so worked up about the olefactory bliss I was experiencing that I self-centeredly assumed that everyone else felt the same way.

But I am not giving up on them and will give them a second chance tomorrow when I cook my shoe.

It's 7:15. What is in your oven?

2006-03-01T16:26:00.000-08:00

Tonight we cooked a baseball glove. And damn if it didn't smell good. Seriously. We all thought so. My daughter's softball coach suggested we cook the glove to help break it in. While it was cooking, my husband, S, declared, "There is a great deal of controversy about cooking baseball gloves."

But regardless that was the best smelling food in this house today.

Even after we took it out of the oven I still wanted to eat it. I had a knife in my hand. I had to be restrained. "Put down the knife, Mommy!" my daughter begged.

Well, that part about the knife and being restrained didn't really happen, but it could have. That's how good the glove smelled.

Tomorrow I am going to cook my shoes.

My Litany of Regrets - Entry 1

2006-02-28T20:23:00.000-08:00

Eating the brownie batter. Not feeling great. Slightly concerned about salmonella right now. Will give an update on my bowels tomorrow. Try not to worry tonight.

The Dog Stalkers

2006-02-28T20:14:00.000-08:00

Doesn't that sound like the title of a book or a movie? But it's not. It's us. My husband and I. We compulsively check www.petfinder.org for dogs. Every so often we find one that we fall in love with. We go by looks. The dog has to be smiling in the picture. I want to see some tongue. The dog has to look kind of mutt-ish and disheveled. Sort of orphan-like. It has to be a small dog.

If a dog meets our "looks" test we read the description. It can't be a puppy because I'm done with babies. (No offense to people who are gestating or who might in the future. I think babies are great. But I don't want one anymore.) The description has to say that the dog is perfect. Loves children, gets along with everyone, etc.

Then whoever has found the dog e-mails the other person and we make desperate sighing sounds on the phone.

Then we start stalking the dog. There was one we were in love with named Phillip. I e-mailed the foster mom and she sent me an application, which I filled out with the absolute truth. She loved our application. Said she was putting it on the top of the pile. But that she wasn't ready to adopt out Phillip because he was too attached to her and she had to wean him away from her. This has been going on for weeks now. During this time I stalked Phillip by occasionally sending e-mails and constantly looking at his picture. But then I think I went too far. I sent him an e-mail valentine.

He didn't answer me. I think that his foster mom has decided that I'm a lunatic because I sent Phillip a valentine. Imagine what she would think if she knew I didn't give a valentine to my husband. In any case, we haven't heard from her in a while. I don't think we're getting that dog.

Then a couple of days ago we found Lucy. Best smiling dog ever. So we've been e-mailing. My husband called her foster mom on the phone. But no matter what, I am not sending Lucy a St. Patrick's Day card. I'm not blowing it this time.

Here is what Einstein says

2006-02-27T17:10:00.000-08:00

See, you knew you were smart to come here and read this blog, but little did you know that Albert Einstein is a big fan too! And speaking of chalkboards, the other day I was reading a book to a 7 year old boy and it mentioned someone scratching a chalkboard. I immediately got goosebumps on my skin and writhed around on the floor in pain just thinking about fingernails running down a chalkboard. He was looking at me as if I was barking mad, and I asked him if he had ever heard someone scratch a chalkboard and he said that he had never actually seen a chalkboard. He asked if it would work with a whiteboard.

Safety Cards - 5 of Clubs

2006-02-18T15:29:00.000-08:00

I have a deck of cards that have workplace safety messages on them. Occasionally (depending on how much people beg and pester me) I will scan one of them in with an alternate message.

Here is the first one, the 5 of clubs:

"I'm starting to regret all the anal sex I had in the break room."

And the second second alternate message: "Would someone please get that owl pellet out of my anus?"

The advantage to being human

2006-02-14T14:47:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of great things about being human. I never thought about this, but today we found a big wad of....matter in the guinea pig's butt. I'm not even sure what it was. It resembled an owl pellet:

and was about an inch and a half in diameter. This is horrifying when you realize that the average guinea pig anus has a diameter of maybe 1/2 inch and that's when it's fully engaged. So I pulled that thing out of his butt, and he then proceeded to poop four times.

So I was thinking that at times I'm not thankful enough for my blessings, and here was a perfect opportunity to be thankful. Because I'm human:

1. I'm unlikely to ever have such an object stuck up my butt. I don't walk around naked on aspen bedding or wallow around in food bowls.

2. In the unlikely that I do get an owl-pellet-like object stuck in my anus, I could pull it out myself, because I not only have opposable thumbs but I also have arms long enough to more than reach to my butthole.

3. If I could not pull it out myself, I could call a doctor. As embarrassing as it would be to confess to a doctor that I did something as foolish as get an owl pellet stuck up my butt, the doctor would have to respect my privacy. Right? Or are there doctors right now blogging about what they find up people's butts? I bet there are. I take this one back.

RIP Grandpa

2006-02-04T20:49:00.000-08:00

No, not my grandpa. My grandpas have been resting in peace for more than thirty years. I'm talking about Grandpa from the Munsters. Al Lewis died today at age 83.

I got thinking about the Munsters and why it was a great show. First off it had the best theme song ever. It was grooving! The melody was easy to pick out on the piano, but there was an undercurrent of manic movement. I would even say unselfconscious angst.

And that was the strength of the show too. On the surface it was just funny, goofy. But underneath, there was this family who was set apart from society, and had no idea why. They had complete faith that they would be accepted and loved and were always taken by surprise (but were generously good-natured about being rejected) when they were shunned.

The Munsters could have been about a certain kind of misfit at school or in society. Goodhearted, clueless about how he is different from his peers. He's set aside and never really figures out that he's excluded because his differentness is as obvious to everyone else as green skin. So obvious that we know the skin is green even though the show is in black and white! Everyone can see it but him.

But in the end, who do we want as a neighbor as a friend? A family who judges others by what they have, by how they live? Or a family who is welcoming and accepting, comfortable in their own skin? I don't know about you, but I'll take the Munsters any day.

RIP Grandpa. May all your inventions succeed.

Conversation in the library

2006-01-26T14:22:00.000-08:00

I was arranging some books on a shelf, while two 3rd graders and one 1st grader were researching (of all things) the Loch Ness Monster on the internet. I hear this conversation.

3rd grader: Whoa! Look at this screen that just came up! It says we won $10,000 if we call within 10 minutes!

Other 3rd grader: If something inappropriate comes up on the computer we need to tell Ms. J. Go tell her (to the 1st grader)

1st grader: (walks over) Ms. J? You got a phone?

On bad words and fingers

2006-01-23T20:14:00.000-08:00

C: Sometimes Kaitlin doesn't like Elliot.

me: Why is that?

C: Because he sticks up his middle finger a lot.

me: Really? (Elliot is in 1st grade.)

C: Yes. And ONLY his middle finger.

me: That's like a bad word, huh?

C: I used to think I knew some bad words, but now I don't, because you told me that they weren't bad words, just rude ones.

me: Like what?

C: like crap and stupid.

me: Well, yeah, those are just rude words, I guess. (I had to tell him this because he kept getting upset at me saying "bad" words.)

C: But wait! There is A. S. S. THAT'S a bad word, isn't it?

me: Yeah, that's a bad word.

C: Are there other ones too?

me: Oh yeah, there are much worse words than that.

C: Well, I hope I never hear them. Because sometimes if you know a bad word, you might say it by accident. Do you know what I mean?

me: I sure do know what you mean. I sure do.

A day in the life of my son's teacher

2006-01-20T18:34:00.000-08:00

Today she taught about the fundamental needs of man. Food, water, shelter, etc. This struck a chord with my 7 year old son, C.

Later in the day he played math bingo a couple of times and then another child, E, said she needed the game.

C: You don't NEED it. You want it.

E: No, I need it. It's on my work plan.

C: You don't NEED it to live.

(things rapidly degenerated here, culminating in C accusing E of lying about her needs.)

Teacher: C, I need to talk to you.

C: No, you don't NEED to talk to me. You WANT to talk to me.

(And here the teacher mentally retreats into her happy place, the place where children don't turn her lessons against her.)

What is the probability that these people flunked math?

2006-01-18T05:55:00.000-08:00

I picked up a couple copies of the free right wing magazine "The Rhino Times" so that I could rip it into shreds and paper mache C's Spongebob Squarepants pinata for his birthday party, and I read this front page breaking news: http://charlotte.rhinotimes.com/story.html?id=1142

In this article, some local parents get their knickers in a wad because their 4th grade students came home from school with a math word problem that (gasp) used the example of a lottery. On one hand, I feel some envy for these parents, because obviously their lives are absolutely perfect. Otherwise how would they have the time and energy to complain about a kid's math problem.

On the other hand, I can't really envy people whose grasp on mathematics is so shaky that they don't understand that the math problem was meant to teach probability, not prime numbers. Sure, there are many ways to teach prime numbers. But the question assumed knowledge of prime numbers. The question was demonstrating the *probability* of coming up with a prime number between 1 and 49. And anybody knows that the most natural way of teaching probability is through games of chance.

The school district responded appropriately, saying that the math worksheet was voluntary. Don't do the damn thing if it offends your tender sensibilities so.

My favorite part of the article in the right wing rag is this: “These folks have left the planet,” Gauvreau said of the educrats who create worksheets like Math Superstars. “It just goes to show you how far the public education system has left mainstream America.”

Because we all know that mainstream America is deadset against lotteries. That's why nobody plays them.

Thank you for trying to save my soul, but I was eating breakfast

2006-01-17T19:12:00.000-08:00

I am torn. On one hand, I hate when people proselytize to me. It is annoying. On the other hand, I have a soft spot for these folks, because I know that they must have a lot of people slam the door in their faces, plus they really are trying to save me from the fiery pit of hell, which is thoughtful. So I walk a fine line when they ring my doorbell.

I remember an incident from when I was a teenager. My mother was in the kitchen and I answered the door and a woman, holding a bible, asked if my mom was home. My mom heard her voice and yelled, "Come on in! I'm in the kitchen!" So I led the woman into the kitchen, and she and my mom sat down at the table and had a long, friendly chat about God and salvation and prayer. When she finally left, I asked my mom why she invited her in, and she said, "I thought it was Aileen!" (our next door neighbor) "Her voice was exactly the same!" My mother was a very nice person.

Anyway, yesterday morning I was eating my breakfast when two well dressed men knocked on the door. I answered, and it turns out they were Jehovah's Witnesses. They were quite smiley and friendly. I wanted to get back to my breakfast, so I figured the quickest way was just to take the Watchtower. So I did that, and then quickly walked through the house to the garage. I opened the door and threw the Watchtower into the recycling bin. Then I looked up and I saw that the outside garage door was open. The two men were standing on the sidewalk watching me. I pushed the button to close the garage door.

Then today I was eating a bowl of ice cream when the door rang. I don't know how these people have the knack for coming when I'm eating. Or maybe I'm always eating. This time it was a lady with her two adorable children. She asked me this: "Do you sometimes feel that there is no hope in the world?"

And I thought, "Very little hope of eating my ice cream before it melts."

Then she opened her bible to Romans and started reading to me, and then said, "We can find comfort in the scripture! It gives us hope!"

I smiled and said, "I'm Jewish and I find hope in my scripture."

She then said, "Oh yes! There is so much hope and comfort in the Toran."

And I said, "The Toran?"

"Yes! The Jewish scripture!" And she opened to Psalms in her handy dandy Toran. (A cross between the Torah and the Quran?) And she started reading to me about how the wicked would be wiped out.

I said, "You know! That is JUST what I've been hoping for! Thank you!"

And that pleased her, and her little girl gave me a tract, and I ran back to my ice cream but it was melted. Must have been the flames of hell that did it.

An update on my day back in the closet

2006-01-17T19:02:00.000-08:00

My dad is doing fine. The bleeding was just a temporary thing, I guess.

And more good news: the next day I asked S what the lump was. And she said, "It turned out that it was my rib."

And I was, "Your rib?! All the way up there? And just on one side?"

I've decided to not go into diagnostic medicine after all.

A trip in the way back machine....

2006-01-17T18:59:00.000-08:00

For no particular reason I was remembering this humiliating episode from my childhood and felt I should share.

I was about ten. My parents were older parents, relatively. They had a huge record collection, but nothing recent. I don't think we listened to the radio in the car.

In music class at school, Mr. Severino let us bring in records to share sometimes. So kids brought in popular records and everyone listened to them.

So I went home and asked my mom if we had any rock and roll records. And she said, "Well, we have Johnny Mathis."

So I brought in a Johnny Mathis record. (This was 1977.) Talk about humiliation. Everyone laughed at me. Even Mr. Severino looked at me like I was Laura Ingalls, just now entering the 1970's. And he didn't play my record.

So I went home and said, "Mom, Johnny Mathis is not rock and roll."

Her reply: "How about the Kingston Trio?"

A conversation that will not delight a paranoid mother

2006-01-08T14:28:00.000-08:00

C: Do you ever hear your brain?
S: (C's dad) Well when I think I heard the words.
C: No, do you actually hear your brain?
S: No.
C: Well I do.
Me: Um. What does it sound like?
C: beeeeeeeeeeeep.
Me: Like a ringing?
C: No. Like a dial tone.
Me: When do you hear it?
C: Whenever it's really quiet.
Me: Well, let me know if it gets loud.
C: Why?
Me: Because I'll take you to a doctor. You're not supposed to hear ringing in your ear.
C: It's not in my ears. It's my brain. And it's not a ringing. It's a dial tone. D-I-A-L-T-O-N-E. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.

C walks away.
S: You're going to be googling that, aren't you?

A conversation that will not delight a pre-teen girl

2006-01-08T12:15:00.000-08:00

C(7yo boy): How come girls wear 2 piece bathing suits instead of the kind boys wear?
Me: To cover up their breasts.
C: If they HAVE breasts.
Me: Well in the United States, even if they don't have breasts, the custom is to cover.
C: Why?
Me: I don't know.
C: Wait! I know! Because before they realize that the girl doesn't have breasts, the person might think, "Hey! That person is swimming with their breasts out!"
K(11yo girl): Stop. Just. Stop.

Amazing image

2005-12-31T14:17:00.000-08:00

We were peeling wallpaper from our kitchen today. We decided that our method of choice wasn't working well enough and that we would rent a steamer at some later date, so we walked away from the mess. When I looked back I saw this amazing image:

Do you see it? It's the profile of someone, looking to the right, screaming! It's just like when people see the Virgin Mary in their grilled cheese or a highway overpass. Or when people saw Satan in the smoke swirling from the twin towers on 9/11. (They could tell it was Satan because of the horns. He wouldn't be clever enough to disguise himself, you see.) But who is the screamer on my kitchen wall? A ghost of the person who owned this house last? Or maybe it's the image of someone peeling wallpaper.

Happy Holidays....oops, did I offend you?

2005-12-25T11:33:00.000-08:00

If so, well, you're one of the people getting on my nerves this year. What is this whole "Christmas is under attack" business? If you don't know what I'm talking about, apparently the American Family Association is urging its members to boycott Target stores because the cashiers are instructed to say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." Which is exactly the same as killing someone for being Christian. Apparently some right wing evangelical Christians' feelings are so tender that being told "Happy Holidays" by an overworked store clerk prevents them from being able to worship Jesus.

Gee, and somehow I, a Jew, have been able to go about my religious business quite well all these years while people wished me "happy holidays." Heck, I don't even spontaneously combust, or snivel, when people wish me a Merry Christmas. I get Christmas cards in the mail, even from people who know I'm Jewish. And somehow I don't get offended.

I wonder why? Wait, I have an idea. Maybe it's because I am not a wannabe-martyr who thinks that the world revolves around me and that my beliefs should be validated by every single person with whom I have contact.

Also, maybe it's because when someone wishes me well, in whatever form, or takes the time to write my address on an envelope for a Christmas card, I am thankful for that kindness. I don't feel that they are challenging my beliefs. In fact, I doubt that most people really have much interest in my beliefs at all. Most people are pretty content to believe what they want and let others believe what they want. Well, most people.

Speaking of the American Family Association, you're going to have to look this up on their website yourself, but they have a great headline right now. It says, "Christian Attorney Hails Judge's Decision to Throw Out Nude Bar Owner's Suit."

Hey, the bar owner is nude! Don't throw out his suit! He needs it! Clothe the naked!

One more question

2005-12-23T17:52:00.000-08:00

What is Mr. Clean Magic Eraser made of? Because my theory is that either it's something extremely deadly, and I'm going to die (but I will have a very clean coffin) or it's made from the hand of Satan. Nothing can work as well as this thing does and not be either deadly or evil.

So I think it's possible, just possible, that all of us who are exclaiming gleefully as we effortlessly wipe around scuff marks have actually neglected to read the fine print on the packaging (which incidently seems to say nothing about the materials) and missed the part about how we're pledging our souls to the devil so that we can have clean counters.

3 questions

2005-12-23T17:12:00.000-08:00

Lava Lamps: Do all lava lamps have suggestive images, or just my daughter's? Or is it an "eye of the beholder" kind of thing, and what does that say about me? All I know is that this lava lamp sports a never ending array of penises rising up majestically, and I can't take my eyes off it.

Hamburgers: it's been a long time since I've eaten a hamburger but I saw this commercial for Burger King and I was blown away by the size of the burger that this woman was stuffing into her gob. Have we gone mad? Who needs a burger that big?

Peter from the movie, The Chronicles of Narnia: In the battle scenes, was he hot or what? Or should I be feeling dirty for thinking that?

That's all for today.

The things that scare us

2005-12-18T17:53:00.000-08:00

Fear is a funny thing. Well, not ha-ha funny, more like weird-funny. I'm afraid of some very stupid things. Some are popular things to be scared of, but still stupid when you think of it. I'm claustrophobic. So for instance when K was very small I went inside one of those horrible indoor playgrounds with the tubes and I had a full blown panic attack. I do things like imagine being buried alive. I don't know why I do that, but my mind goes there, and it freaks me out.

Then I'm afraid of some unusual stupid things. I have a phobia that I've never seen named and it's a fear of things that change. So for instance, a very bad gift for me would be a chia pet. I'm afraid of them. I'm find with them until they start sprouting that grass-hair and then I can't look at them or touch them or think of them. When I was a kid I was afraid of those folded up wads of paper that you'd leave in your pocket when your pants went through the washing machine and dryer and then they would (I'm getting the shakes writing this) change. They would get dry and weird-textured, and congealed into one disgusting...thing. My brother used to chase me around the house with those paper wads.

So anyway, I think that what we fear is sort of unpredictable. I often wonder if it's random or if there was some incident in our early lives that determines if we will fear heights, spiders, or dryer-dried paper wads.

This brings me to my son C who is 7. He's watched all the Harry Potter movies and never had a moment of fear. Then today we took him to an art museum and he saw a picture that illustrated one of Aesop's fables. In this fable, a man is pursued by death, which is personified by a skeleton. Since seeing this, C is unable to be in a room by himself because he is terrified. He certainly can't sleep by himself.

Here is the picture: http://oceansbridge.com/art/customer/product.php?productid=34548&cat=3695&page=4&maincat=Wad

And I just really wonder why this particular thing is scaring him so much.

Joke of the Day

2005-12-16T15:42:00.000-08:00

My 7 year old son made up this riddle:

Q: What is a fish's least favorite sport?

A: Fishing

The right attitude

2005-12-08T06:39:00.000-08:00

C is sick with something that may or may not be chicken pox. He said to me this morning, "It could be worse. At least it's not the black plague. I don't expect to get that."

The free-est country in the world

2005-12-04T18:00:00.000-08:00

C came home from 2nd grade recently saying that the United States is the free-est country in the world, that he had learned that. I know that normal parents of 2nd graders would say nothing about this, but I couldn't let it slide. We had a conversation like this:

me: Actually I don't think that's true. I think that we are free-er than other countries in some ways but other countries are free-er than us in other ways. (I can't say freeer. Something wrong about those 3 e's.)

C: Like how?

me: (coming up with a bad example maybe at first) Remember when we were in Amsterdam and there were those coffee houses? People can smoke marijuana there. You can't do that in the United States.

C: But it's not good to smoke marijuana!

me: Maybe not. (fond memories flood through me at this point.) But that's not the point. People are free to do that there and they aren't here. That's an example of how another country has a freedom that we don't have.

C: That's a bad example.

me: OK. How about this one. In many countries gay people are allowed to marry each other. Do you remember what "gay" is?

C: Yes, gay is when you love someone of the same sex.

me: Right. But in that special way. Now if you were a gay person and you were in the United States and you couldn't marry the person you wanted to, do you think that you would still think it's the free-est country in the world?

C: Yes.

me: But you can't marry the person you want to!

C: Lots of people can't marry the person they want to!

me: Why?

C: Because the person said no when you said "Will you marry me?" Or because they're related!

Here is where I just give up because I have a sneaking feeling that I was outsmarted. But i was right! I know I was!

In defense of airplane food

2005-12-04T08:57:00.000-08:00

My husband returned from a business trip yesterday and I asked him what the meal on the plane was.

Acting as if I had asked a dumb question he said, "Chicken or pasta. Like always."

He doesn't get why I like airplane meals. It's not the chicken or pasta I like, but the other stuff. The little cheese and crackers, the roll with some weird spread, the little fruit salad. But really it's not the food at all. It's the ritual.

I love that anticipation. The flight attendants push their carts past me to the front of the plane and then slowly make their way to the back. I crane my neck around to see what the people in front of me are getting. Finally the moment of truth, when I pull back the wrapping from the box and I take inventory of everything that's there. I poke the fork through the plastic bag to open it. I start the trading ritual. Candy for crackers? Cheese for bread? I'm a sucker for any kind of wheeling and dealing.

Maybe part of what I like is that someone else is doing the work. I just sit there and wait for my turn.

I did make a resolution that the next time I'm on a flight with a meal that I'm going to make a special request. Anything different. Vegetarian. Kosher. Halal. Diabetic. I don't care what. Just to get something specially for me. At our synagogue they have dinners for various events, and they are not so good. They claim to have "caterers" do them and the price we pay does lead me to believe that. But I'd rather have an airplane meal! At these synagogue dinners, it's always chicken. There is no cheese and crackers. There isn't even dessert! So I started asking for a vegetarian meal, even if it wasn't offered. At the last dinner I requested a vegetarian meal for me and my daughter. So we got salmon. (Which is, if you are not aware, actually a fish, and therefore from a sentient life form. But that's OK, because we're not actually vegetarians. We do eat fish!) And it was a moment to remember when we got in line with our plates and I told the "caterer" that we were getting the vegetarian meals, and he opened a special platter and gave us our salmon. Later on, a kid at our table wanted fish too, and went up there and asked and was stunned when they told him that they didn't have any fish. See, you have to request it!

So that's what I'm going to do for my next airplane meal. It will make it even more special for me.

One flight we were on, when C, who was maybe 5 or 6, saw the flight attendant push that cart to the front of the plane and start handing out meal packets, he yelled out, "That's just the man I've been waiting for!" Me too!

Is this mean?

2005-11-28T19:14:00.000-08:00

Tell me the truth. Is this mean? Due to an outbreak of cooties at the school, I've been obsessively checking my children's hair for nits. This is boring and time consuming. They have a lot of hair. So every so often, as I am checking, I'll let out a blood curdling scream. I can't tell you how funny it is to me to see them jump. Another fun thing I do is really quietly say, "What the....?" as I examine a strand of hair.

Recently my daughter informed me that it's mean to do the above things. Is she right? Is it mean? Or just good family entertainment?

The dog is....guilty!

2005-11-23T19:11:00.000-08:00

My sister is visiting us for the holidays, and brought her beloved dog. (Very cute, sweet, smart dog. I admit it.) We have two guinea pigs who live in an open cage in their own bedroom. We all went up to see the guinea pigs, and the dog, I'll call her V, seemed overly interested. I told my sister that we'd have to make sure to close the door when we left the room. She said, "V would never hurt the pigs!"

But we did close the door and we came downstairs. A few minutes later V came trotting into the family room and guess what she had in her mouth. A STUFFED guinea pig. She had gone into K's room, and out of all the stuffed animals in there, had chosen the guinea pig and brought it down in her mouth! She had ignored the cow, the bear, the other bear, etc. for the guinea pig!

My sister had to admit that it was a little bit strange.

Meanwhile, C was showing his Uncle A his bedroom. And they had this conversation:

A: Oh, you have bunkbeds! Do you ever sleep on top?
C: Yes. When I pee on the bed on the bottom.
A: That's good. So you have two shots every night.

School Quotes of the week

2005-11-22T19:32:00.000-08:00

Me (in school, talking to a 3rd grader): OK, but be careful with that poison frog.
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C: (for a school project) Love is when you like someone in a special way and maybe you kiss them.
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Conversation between C and drama teacher:
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C: In the next play I want to be Cinderella.
M: We're not doing Cinderella.
C: But I want to be Cinderella.
M: But we're not DOING Cinderella.
C: In the next play I want to be Cinderella.
M: WE'RE NOT DOING CINDERELLA. WE'RE DOING LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD.
C: oh.
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Me: (in library, to student) Will you get that out of your nose? Do you have any idea where that would end up if you tripped right now?
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4th grade student in library: I'm looking for a certain book, but I don't know if you have it.
me: Do you know the title?
student: Yes. it's called "The Bible."

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And my favorite, I walked past two teacher discussing something and L drew me into the conversation:

L (a teacher): Which do you think is more important: size or weight?
me: Sorry?
L: Which do you think is more important, size or weight?
me: Well I never really thought of the weight as being important, but I suppose that makes sense too.
L: What?
me: But, really, attitude is the thing, don't you think? Don't you think that attitude can make up for a lot?
L: What are you talking about?
me: Um. What are you talking about?
(And I never found out what they were talking about because they started laughing so hard that they were crying. All I know is that they were not talking about what I was talking about.)

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About a hundred kids were playing some version of dodgeball that involved not only throwing balls at each other but running around and screaming at the top of their lungs.

I said to a teacher: "If you dropped them on a deserted island it would take them about 5 minutes to turn it into Lord of the Flies."

The teacher: You think that long?