The downside of getting up so early.

The downside of getting up so early...

4/21/2006

Y'know, I've had a couple of productive days.

Getting up at dawn will do that, apparently.

But the side-effect of that is something that bit me in the butt today.

You see, Fridays are our one early day (for the kids, anyways. It's a 'late day' for Ken). Skip has an early band rehearsal at school. Ken "sleeps in" (until 7) and takes him to school at 7:40 on his way in to a late start at work.

So, imagine my shock and horror when, after an incredibly difficult night of moving to Russia and living in a giant abandoned tenement with KATI and Matt LeBlanc, and a few people that I knew in college, and realizing that the entire 15 story building didn't have a single working bathroom, and trying to find a sofa-bed that would fit under a built-in basketball hoop in Matt's studio apartment (the only one that had even a passable view - even if it was of the Endless Steppe), I awoke to discover that we'd had an alarm clock malfunction in the night, and it was 7:48.

*cue the crazy Keystone Cops music as we all ran around like headless chickens*

Let the record show that I managed to get Skip up, dressed, fed, backpacked, trumpeted, and out the door in THREE MINUTES. He was 12 minutes late for practice (the practice starts at 7:45, so that earlier time is just to give Ken a little slop, should he need it), pulling onto campus at 7:57.

I'm still waiting for my heart rate to come back down to approaching-normal.

Sheesh.

I guess you really CAN'T burn the candle at both ends...

---

Of course, when I got home, breathless from driving in bare-feet at speeds more approaching highway levels than neighbourhood ones, I realized that Kelly still wasn't up.

So.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I actually got food into Kelly in the kitchen though. Skip had to eat in the car. Kelly? I stood her by the fridge, and spooned Yoplait custard style into her as fast as she would swallow.

Yes, I'm certain that I'll be one of the finalists in the Mom of the Year Pageant.

---

Still time to redeem myself.

I'll be at the school in a half hour, working in the library. With any luck, I'll be able to lay my hands on the overdue library books of both of my children, and get that taken care of. If not, it's a good thing that I've got Root Password for the library computer system...

Why, oh why, did I stay up until nearly midnight watching GalaxyQuest?

It's my own fault.

---

And company's coming.

Guests tonight for our Home Group Evening. Gotta clean for that. And cook. Well, bake, anyways. Ken would like a veggie platter, too. (adds a trip to MollieLand to the errand list).

And houseguests arrive on Sunday afternoon.

They're staying for a week.

I am So not ready for that.

But I will be. And I'm gonna make them feel more than welcome, because on Thursday, I'm abandoning my family (and houseguests) to do music at a Women's Retreat. Not even my church, but it should be fun. I think they were talking about going all acoustic, just with me and another woman on guitars. But they also want a 'full sound', and my friend (who volunteered me for this music gig) said "oh, do you want her to play the bass, too?" Gotta brush up on my bass playing skillz, then. And there was rumours of a keyboard request, too. Maybe I should just toss ALL our instruments into the back of the Pilot for the trip down to the retreat center... I'll learn more on Sunday at the SINGLE band rehearsal.

So the houseguests will be looking after the kids on Thursday and Friday while I'm away, and Ken's at work. Good thing they're so flexible about stuff.

---

Another dishcloth is done.

Goodness, they're satisfying little bits of completion. Almost makes me NOT want to start a big project.

Almost...

---

9:04. Time to go find the late library books.

And maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll find the library book that Skip (or, really, *I*) never returned to the public library, that I just got a 'replacement notice' about. Lincoln: Lawyer, Legislator, Legend (or something like that). Sheesh. I can't believe I dropped the ball on that one. $21.75. I suppose it could be worse. We've probably built up nearly that much in late fees on the thing, when it comes down to it...

Food deals. And non-deals

Sometimes, a deal is not a deal.

Tuesday, I got a GREAT price on a ham that was bigger than my head. Truly a great price. As in, "What are you doing even THINKING about not buying this?" price.

Why do I do this to myself? Nate and I are the only ones that eat the stuff. so then, after I cut two (quite ample) slices off for supper, Tuesday, I was left with the daunting task (after returning from rehearsal late that night, and watching my pre-recorded House - minus the ads) of cutting all the meat off that bone, and finding places for all the little packages in the fridge and freezer.

And you just KNOW I'm gonna forget that I have that meat stashed away...

*sigh*

---

Also, in the "Why do I do this to myself with food" department:

Thursday morning. (ooh, a week ago). Near the end of the kids' Spring Break from school. There's a knock at the front door.

Standing there is one of Skip's classmates. And his mother. She's starting a new career after 16+ years of doing who-knows-what up in The City.

And parked at the curb is a mini pick-up truck with a coffin in the back, and "Horizon Foods" on the side.

Let me show you what I'm goign to be doing...
Such a great opportunity...
Working with my son...
What kind of meat do you eat...?
How about seafood....
This is such a great deal....
You won't be able to resist...
Do your kids eat pizza...?
Here, let's look in the freezer I've got in the truck...

And she talked and talked, and I thought "Surely this *IS* the great deal that she said it was, so I said that I liked Rib-Eye steaks, and Ken would occasionally (like once a month) eat red meat, and then it was a New York steak, and the kids might be tempted to eat the Fajita chicken strips, though they'd rather poke out their own eyes.

Oh, there's a deal if I buy FOUR boxes? Well, the Lemon Chicken looks pretty good. No, I'll stay away from the seafood. Ken's allergic to the preservative in the shellfish.

What? Oh, there's no preservatives in OUR shellfish. It's all flash frozen on the boat.

Really? Let's take a look on the box... See there? Contents: Flash frozen shrimp, SODIUM TRIPOLYPHOSPHATE (as preservative). That is the thing that'll nearly send Ken to the ER. Maybe you should make a note of that, in case you're selling to anyone else that has allergies...

Think of the savings... having everything ready and at hand. Your life will be easier. You can lounge around eating bonbons all day!

Let's just add this up, and see what it is, after I give you the discounts...

Ooh!

NEARLY SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS.....

Excuse me while I go find the smelling salts.

Fortunately, I was able to play the "We just paid the property taxes" card.

Oh, well, then, what if we do "Buy 3 boxes, get 1 free"? That brings your cost down... DOWN to nearly $12/serving. Though that's just for the meat.

*fans self* I don't know about y'all, but when I'm costing out my groceries, I like to do most meals under $2/serving. For EVERYTHING.

So then she played the "Time Savings" card. Think of all the time you waste going to the grocery store!

Sorry. That's my little zen-time. Walking the aisles brings me peace. It's like walking the labyrinth.

Then she pulled out the "Time savings at home" card. How much time away from your family is spent preparing food?

Heh. She doesn't know me very well, does she? If I can't pull together something in under 15 minutes, I just don't do it. And I do it WITH the kids.

So I played the "Power Outage" card. 'You *DO* know that we have extended power outages here during the warm months, don' t you? And I don't know about you, but I'd curl up and DIE if I had $600 worth of meat in my freezer, slowly thawing out and going bad during a hot August afternoon.'

Back and forth, back and forth.

And finally, I just felt sorry for her, and pulled out the cheque-book and snagged a box of the Lemon Chicken Breasts. The cookbook (free with purchase) says that there are 16-18 portions in the box. Even if there *IS* 18 in there, those boobs are still costing their weight in gold. EIGHTY SEVEN DOLLARS? And that's WITH my discounts.

Oh well.

I cooked up our first pair the other night. Yeah, it was fast getting them into the oven. About as fast as if I'd bought fresh in my thrice-weekly Zen-time at Safeway, and tossed some salad dressing on them before popping them in the oven.

But the size? Good golly, Miss Molly! I'd starve. Either that, or I've got some serious learning to do about portion size. (yes, I know that the chicken boobs that one gets at the grocery store are good for two portions. But we don't eat meat every day, so I give us doubles when we do). Five bites, and that boob was gone from my plate.

Oh well, I say.

I'll chalk it up to my Civic and Neighbourly Duty. And I did keep her son off the streets for another day.

---

Y'know, there really may be something to this "getting up early" business.

Yesterday, I got up when Ken got in the shower (5:45! Eek!), and by the time six rolled around, I'd emptied all the trash cans in the house, and gotten the trash and recycling to the curb, and put on a load of laundry. By the time the kids were stirring at 7, I'd finished up the song sheets for the Ladies Bible Study later that morning, started another dish cloth, and emptied and re-stuffed the school backpacks. And because I was so on the ball, when Kelly mentioned that she really, REALLY wanted to wear her Hello Kitty pink suede mocassins (that had been broken since September, when the stitching all came undone on one of them), I had time to get some kitchen cotton (for the next dishcloth) in a matching colorway, and stitch up her broken mocassin, good as new.

I tell you, by Eight O'clock, I was Queen of the World.

And by the time I'd finished leading the music at 9:30, and was sitting down to hear my friend talk about John 14, I was ready for a nap. That'll teach me to sit in the front row.

Four words: They Heard Me Snore!

Fortunately, I rallied in time to get the kids, take them for lunch, coach them in tear-jerking commentary inside three Mothers Day cards for Ken's mom, get Skip to his piano lesson, hit the post office, and drive the Ragazzi carpool. Both ways.

Oh, and leftover ham for supper.

What else? I do believe I'm hearing oinking in my sleep.

Oh, and lest I forget:
Shortly after Ken left for work this morning (ie, less than a minute), the phone rang.

It was Ken. He was using his angry voice. I can't remember the last time I heard him use it.

"Someone. Has. Given. Us. Art... A. Lovely. "Fuck. You." On. The. Driveway."

J-jumping! I'm in the club!

After popping into regular clothes, I went out with a bucket and a brush. Fortunately, the 3-foot-tall chalk letters vanished with the liberal attentions of the hose.

Even though it was chalk, it was SO unsettling. Someone had come up our driveway RIGHT to the garage door, and had done their tagging. Although, as I looked at it, it looked like the work of a 15 year old girl, trying out her best "bad to the bone" font. All it needed was a little flower over the dotted 'i'. I suppose I should be glad that they ran out of chalk before adding "shit" to the artwork. Though seeing a little flower-dotted-i might've been worth my taking a picture of it.

Guess it's a good thing I didn't leave out the basket of spray paint cans...

Stop, Drop, and Roll

Stop, Drop, and Roll

4/18/2006

Several times a day, Kelly will get thoughtful and quiet. "Mom. I think that man would've been OK if he'd just remember to Stop, Drop, and Roll. Do you think he knows about "stop, drop, and roll"?"

Needless to say, the fire's still weighing rather heavily on her. But she seems very upbeat.

Ken and I talked about it that night. A little strip of mini-warehouses? One bay suddenly bursting into a fireball? Doesn't that just scream "meth lab" to you?

The next day, Saturday, Kelly and I were out delivering the draperies for the Youth Room (yes, I finished sewing and hemming all of them. All. Of. Them.). After we'd unloaded the panels (...*counts on fingers*... 13 in all, that trip, for a grand total of... 23), Kelly asked if we could go and see if the fire was out. We were nearly half way there by the time we got to the church, so we just kept heading south.

All was well on San Antonio Road. And the little strip of warehouses? Good grief, I'd make an atrocious witness if it ever came down to that. It wasn't a strip of warehouses at all. It was a store-front with an office, and behind, along a long narrow driveway, the place that had gone up in flames was a Smog Check Station. Egads.

Oh, and in case you were wondering:

I never saw anything about the fire on the news. I even tried Googling it the next day. No luck.

And I knew that I'd have a bit of run-around, calling 911 on my cell. Calls from cells go to CHP first, and then are re-directed. I was most impressed, though, I must say, at how INCREDIBLY quickly the transferring went. Seriously, it was click-click and there was another calm voice on the line. I truly had braced myself for one of those "lost on hold" horror stories, and it just Was Not.

My hat is off to those guys.

---

Sunday morning, after the first set of music, Ken came down from the stage (he'd been doing keyboards), and leaned over to me. I was expecting him to say something very spiritual about the music, or pious about the message.

Nope.

"I had a great idea up there. I think I did the taxes wrong, and if I recalculate them, I think we'll end up paying about a third of what I originally thought. Whew, am I glad I didn't mail them off yesterday."

Heh.

I think of it as Divine Intervention.

---

Had the 5th Annual Easter Egg Hunt at our house on Sunday afternoon.

I was really worried that it'd get competely rained out, and I'd have "Children With Impulse Control Issues" rampaging through my house looking for hidden eggs, but at the last minute, the clouds broke, and I told the kids that they'd better watch themselves on the lawn, because there was swampy bits that could eat a child alive. While the kids were sequestered in the computer room (playing Runescape, no less), I gave all the adults a bag of eggs, and sent them off in 5 directions.

Chop, chop, you don't know how long the non-rainy break will last, and some of the eggs contained perishable stuff.

After several years of 'working out the kinks', I now fill different coloured eggs for the different kids. It prevents Skip and his buddy Cole from cleaning up all the eggs before Nate even has a chance. And Nate's still collecting eggs from the middle of the lawn.

The egg-distribution (and hiding, for the older boys) had to be put on hold in the front yard, though, while I did my own "hunt" for adult goodies that had been hidden for me. Yes, I scored a bunch of empty Bud Light cans strewn across my front/side yard. One of them was still half full! Score! (or not!) Thankyou, booze-hound neighbours who have no couth.

Oh well. They're aluminum cans, and I can take them to school on Friday for recycle goodness.

And, for the record, the skies OPENED UP (complete with hail) not 15 minutes after the last egg was found, and the kids were back inside starting in on their sugar comas.

---

I've suddenly become a dishcloth knitting machine. I can't get enough of that cottony goodness.

A corollary of that is that Ken's wool sweater has been put on indefinite hold.

---

Hmm. Gotta leave to get Skip from school. His class let out 2 minutes ago.

The mailman just drove up. Kelly and Nate went to grab the mail from him, and he doled out a little bit to each of them, giving Nate the stuff that's not as hard to hold onto.

Then, when I came charging out, because I had Kelly's camp registration that HAD to go in the mail today, to hand to him, he started up a conversation.

"So, your husband's moved over to New Hip Company, has he? How's he liking it there? Was he head-hunted, or did he just want to make a change?"

Gotta love a well-informed mailman.

Ours is the best.

---

After uncountable days of rain, the sun has come back out.

Just in time for the kids to go back to school.

Oh, Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, where were you when we needed you during the interminable week of Spring Break?

I'll be your witness. Part 2.

I'll be your witness. Part 2.

4/14/2006

Apparently, driving home with Kelly alone gives us some wierd attraction for disasters.

First, it was the rear-ender in the next lane, witnessed out her window by the intrepid Kelly, herself. I think I may have written about it. Last month? The previous one?

And then tonight.

Tonight, I did something I've never done before (and quite frankly, I'd be happy if I never had to do it again, but I'm not holding my breath).

I called 911.
From my cell phone.
In my car.

After a lovely supper out at a local Szechuan place, Ken took the boys home, while I took Kelly with me on a tour through the two farther-away Joann Fabric stores, searching for the "Amaretto Linen-Like Solids" fabric that was marked down this weekend to $2.99/yard. I've been asked to make draperies for the new youth room at church, and they'd like to have as much of the room done as possible by Easter Sunday.

Um, that'd be the day after tomorrow.

---

(begin giant aside about sewing draperies)

Last week, I went out with one of the women who's the driving force behind the remodel, and she showed me to this great fabric place up in San Mateo right on the 101. I don't recall the name, but it was a little warehouse with bolts and bolts and bolts of fabric. Mostly, it wasn't appropriate for our needs, but she found a bolt of navy twill that she thought would be good. (Six bucks a yard. Cough cough) 24 yards later, I had a nice bolt in my car, and was heading home to make drapes. I decided to go for quick-and-dirty and cut 3-yard panels, not hemmed down the selvedges (it IS for a youth lounge, after all), sewed a 3.5 inch rod-pocket across the top, and steam-a-seamed a 2 inch hem. An hour, and I had eight panels ready to go. We managed to get those up on the wall by last Sunday.

Then my "supervisor" went on vacation with her family, and I was cut loose to "make my own decisions" about what I thought would be good for the other 36 feet of walls. And if I could get another wall done by Easter, that'd be gravy!

Earlier this week, I went out with my dad (another of the things I got done while they were here. I forgot!) and picked up 15 yards of ruby red bull denim. It's a bit heavier than the navy twill, but it sewed up nice. This morning I got 5 panels cut and the tops sewed. I ran out of steam-a-seam, though, so only brought 3 panels to the church at noon when I went to walk through the Good Friday Stations of the Cross with Skip. On the way home from that (hooray for Play Dates for Kelly and Nate. I coulnd't have taken 3 kids into Joann's and survived) Skip and I stopped at the local Joann's and picked up some more hem tape. While I was there, I realized that the fake linen fabric (that WAS $4.99/yard) was on super-sale, and this was the time to grab it, so I snagged 15 yards of a "tropical green'. ($2.49/yard. Woot! No... double WOOT!) I bought out what the store had, though. I really needed more, hence the post-supper trip south with Kelly.

(end big giant aside)

---

Anyways, we went south to the closer of the farther-away Joann's, and snagged all the "tropical green" they had. And I also got sucked in by a lovely "lime yellow" (really, a bright chartreuse!), and got 9 yards of that, too.

Seeing as I'd already driven that far south, and there was still over an hour left in business hours, I decided to make the trek to the Mountain View store. Jackpot! They had more tropical green AND more lime yellow. On this visit, I also snagged matching thread (While I'm pretty sure I've got teal thread at home, I knew for a fact that chartreuse wasn't in the inventory. And at 30% off? Need I say more?)

As I was heading back to the 101 from Joann's, I suddenly realized that off ahead to the right the sky was brighter. And suddenly orange. Ooh. Maybe it's a fire?

I got closer, and could see flames. I was getting ready to move out of the way, should the fire trucks suddenly whistle past, when suddenly a naked man on fire jumped out towards the front of the car, waving his hands frantically.

One word: Eek!

In retrospect, he wasn't on fire. Smoking a bit, I think. But there were flames behind him, and he looked charred around the edges. He was panic stricken, and I was too stunned to stop in time. I slammed on the binders, and looked for a place to pull over. It was nearly a block before it registered what I'd just seen.

I pulled over. Kelly was crying. Surely someone will stop, I thought, but cars kept streaming past me.

So I got out my phone.

I could never be an emergency worker. I was all tied up in a knot just hitting "send".

911: 911 operator. What is the address of the emergency?

Me: I'm on San Antonio Road, near Charleston. Palo Alto, I think. There's a naked man on fire. And a warehouse on fire.

911: Palo Alto? I'm transfering you now.
.....
911(new voice): What is the address of the emergency?

Me: I'm on San Antonio Road. Maybe near Charleston. Behind me about a block there's a warehouse to the south on fire. There's a man running out from the fire. I think he's hurt, maybe burned.

911: That's Mountain View. I'm transferring you now.
.....
911(another voice): What is the address of the emergency?

Me: (detecting a pattern here?) San Antonio Road. Near Charleston. There's a warehouse going back from the road south. One of the bays is on fire. There's at least one man hurt. He's trying to flag down help. Has someone else phoned this in? I'm not really familiar with the area here.

911: Fire is on the way. Thankyou. I'm hanging up to take another 911 call.

---

I pulled a U-turn at Charleston (turns out I hadn't come to Charleston after all), and drove back to see if anyone else had stopped. Kelly was very worried, so I reassured her by showing her that two cars had stopped, and the man was no longer running in the street. "Don't worry, honey. The firemen are on their way, and they can put out the fire and help the man who was hurt." At that point, I didn't want to jet up the freeway, so I turned up Middlefield and putt-putted north. On my way, what did I see? A PALO ALTO firetruck dispatched to the scene.

I guess Palo Alto 911 was listening after all.

And now I've got the 9:00 news on, and wondering if the warehouse fire will make 'Breaking News".

I'm still a little tied up in knots inside, though.

Backlog

Backlog

4/13/2006

The water district is flushing the hydrants in our neighbourhood today.

Thanks, guys, for picking a most inopportune time to do that task. I really, REALLY could benefit from about 11 loads of laundry right now (and a shower would be nice, too, and the dishwasher), but we're not supposed to be 'heavy users' during this time, so as to not disturb the sediment that could cause our whites to be dull, and our showers to spew brown water.

My folks just hit the road. Going back to Canada via the Oregon Coast. I hope they don't get washed away. Maybe it'll be drier there than it's been here.

They've been staying with us the past 4 days. Right in the heart of nasty rainstorms. So much for all the outside work that I wanted to get done with them while they are here. The brick wall in the back yard is on hold for another visit. And the laminate flooring upstairs was just a non-starter, because of the icky weather. Who wants to be ripping carpet and sticking it outside in the monsoon?

So instead, we just did little projects. The kids played a lot (inside. Oh, my grey hair! Yes, it was the indoor pillow fight [code name: Demolition] that popped Kelly's first tooth out), and my mom did basic spring cleaning (because she's driven that way) and my dad did all sorts of home improvements. The nail holes in the MDF around the new sliding doors are all filled now, thanks to his ambition, and Skip's new-found skills with the caulking gun.


The sprinkler in the front yard is no longer rusted out, and I have new-found skills with the PVC pipe cutters and the blue stinky PVC glue. A big orchid is in a new pot on the front porch. My bedside table, with the drawers that didn't slide worth crap, is now a smooth sliding piece of art, and we've got a new 4-in-1 screwdriver out of the deal, thanks to dad's frustration with our meagre little collection of non-appropriate tools. Mom and Skip cut out his 'manta ray quilt' from lime green polar fleece and teal blue fun-fur, and now it's just up to me (and Skip) to sew the thing together.

The guest bath sink no longer runs slowly, thanks to dad's skills with a bent coat hanger, and his ability to move past his gag reflex when he saw a hair-clog the size of a small rotting dog.

The back fence no longer has a big gaping hole in it, welcoming in every last deer and coyote in the neighbourhood. Woot! And when dad was fixing the fence, and I was watching (in the rain! I'm such a good daughter), I found a jasmine trying to move into our yard from the neighbour's place, so now we have a nice jasmine vine trailing over the fence. And a honeysuckle! Who knew?

Dad also fixed my garden arbor, which had blown down in the rain storms more times than I'd care to tell. And he anchored it, and levelled it, and braced it, so it won't blow over again. Woot!

And the calla lilies are repotted, and gracing the arbor. And the back fence is lined with Euryops, which should grow into great honking bushes of yellow daisy-goodness in a year or two. And there are Iceland poppies in the front garden, and the icky pots full of dead plants have been turned into good soil at the back fence, and all the old icky pots are full of good new soil, and ready for me to plant veggies in them when the rains actually stop. Perhaps that should be IF the rains actually stop.

And we went through the front yard, and dug up all the prickly weeds so the kids can scamper around in bare feet, and not worry about cactus-like attacks.

And Dad and Skip fixed Kelly's dragonfly light, when it suddenly became possessed by the devil, and turned on all by itself and wouldn't turn off. So now Skip has these wonderful soldering skills, and nobody had to go to the hospital, and he didn't burn down the house.


And the kids made eleventy thousand forts out of all the blankets on their beds, dragged downstairs to the family room, so they could entertain Nonie while she crocheted.


And Skip played as many hours of Runescape as was humanly possible. I dragged him away from the computer a couple of times a day, just so that his grandparents wouldn't forget that he still lived with us, and also so he could play the piano and trumpet for them (but not both at the same time, of course), and make them get all misty-eyed over his wonderful musical talents.

And mom and I went shopping. Ross was good to us, as was Savers, the wonder Thrift Store.

And, and, and. It was a great visit. I just wish that it hadn't rained nearly every waking moment.

---

And go me! April 10th was the deadline for Property Tax, and on the 8th, I walked RIGHT to the place where the tax bill was, and RIGHT to the place where the special cheques are, and RIGHT to the place where I'd already placed the return envelope (stamped, and everything) and got that sucker paid and DONE. Yes, it was still aneurysm time when I had to write the enormous number on the cheque, but at least I didn't have the added stress of not knowing where everything was.

(of course, in an ideal world, the "Very Safe Place" for the property tax form wouldn't be in the cupboard with the Kool-Aid jug, but that's where I REMEMBER it, so that's where it goes)

26/52 ABC *G*

26/52 ABC *G*

4/10/2006

Ah, the places my brain could GO as I think about G.

A trip down Memory Lane, perhaps.

First and foremost: GIRLFRIENDS




That photo's just too old. Time for J-Jumping to come back for another GALUMPH through my GARDEN.

Until then...

A GIRL wearing GREEN...




And last, and not GORY at all...

A GAP


The three kids were playing "Demolition!" (their word, not mine) this morning, which involved some loosely structured game of hitting each other with the sofa-cushions and trying to commit gross bodily harm while laughing like hyenas, suddenly, Kelly grabs her face, and says "Hey, Skip! You did it! Oh!" and there's her tooth, sitting in her hand. He'd just delivered a smashing body blow with the largest of the square cushions, and I was wondering if she was going to grab her neck and shriek "I need a lawyer, Whiplash!"

Quite frankly, with the way the game was going, I was really surprised that she didn't just swallow that sucker down.

So now, the Tooth Fairy has just visited her little nest, taking away the First Tooth that she'd put in a mini zip-lock bag, and replacing it with a matching baggie that contains a quarter. Also, beside her bed is a little battery-powered dragonfly night-light left behind with the quarter.


Another milestone.

First of the White Hot Wigglers

First of the White Hot Wigglers

4/8/2006

We are a family that is late to lose teeth.

I didn't think so, having lost my first tooth the summer before I started school (but then again, I didn't go to Kindergarten, so maybe I am a bit of a late bloomer after all), but my kids seem to be trailing the pack. Skip didn't lose his first tooth until half way through first grade. All his friends lost teeth in kindergarten. Even the youngest in the class.

I had equal thoughts for Kelly, expecting that she would be well into second grade before anything started loosening up. All of her classmates are sporting gap-toothed grins these days.

Thursday morning, I took the troops to the dentist. All three at one shot. Here you go, Mr. Dentist. Have at them.

Three clean bills of health, though Skip is a Heavy Plaque Accumulator. (ack)

Kelly was thrilled that she was going to be able to show the dentist her new bumps. No, she's not in need of a bra any time soon. THESE new bumps were on three new teeth poking through the back of her jaw. Her Six Year molars are making an appearance. Right on time.

And when she came out of the exam room, the dentist had a bit of news. In his poking and prodding around, he'd managed to start her first loose tooth.

She's been worrying that thing ever since.

I believe the days of a nice even set of mini pearly whites will soon be a thing of the past.

Bring on the gap-toothed grins.

But let me get some photos of her great smile with ALL the teeth in it first...

A DNA Morning

A DNA Morning

4/4/2006

What a morning!

First, it was pissing like a race horse outside when we got up. The susurrus is a sure-fire way to keep the kids in a 'shouldn't I still be sleeping?' fog, so I ended up putting on my Drill Sergeant hat, and charging around after them, clapping my hands together at their backsides, just to get them out the door in time.

And... out onto the roads with every last person who's Not Quite Sure.

Just get out of my way. Thanks.

I was a woman with a mission, didn't they know that?

After dropping Skip and Kelly off at school, I high-tailed it over to Kelly's Old School, to drop Nate off with the mother of Kelly's old Kindergarten Flame. He's got a little brother that's Nate's age, and the two lads were spending the morning together.

Woot! A free morning for me.

I needed it, you see... I had a date.

A date with an older man.

A much older man.



Yes! James Watson (co-Nobel Laureate with Francis Crick) was speaking at New Hip Company this morning, and I had a front row seat.

Man alive, for being nearly 80, the guy could talk. And he was funny in that elderly self-deprecating way, too. I ate it up.

And then he signed his book for me.



I guess that means I'll have to read it.

Makes me want to get back into brain-work, though. Reading, and stuff. Enough with these women's magazines and fluffy crafty books. It's time for the textbooks to start seeing the light of day again.

Or maybe not.

26/52 ABC *F*

26/52 ABC *F*

4/3/2006

Am I behind on things here? Am I up to date? I don't remember.

But it must be pretty close to F-time.

Hmmm. What F-word can I pull up for my entry?


AH!!!!!

Who here remembers Skip's Fickle Finger of Flowing Florid Fluid?????



It's a little hard to see, but what the photo is TRYING to show is this squirting shot of blood coming out at arterial-flow rates from a tiny lump on the inside of Skip's left middle finger. He had this tiny bump on his finger, and, being a boy, had to worry it until it burst open. And then, wonder of wonder, and joy of joys, the thing rewarded him by shooting blood pulse-pulse-pulse across the room.

Of course we had to take a picture of it. I think this was spring 2003. The finger hasn't rewarded us since. Kind of too bad. It was pretty darned cool.

Worth the Trouble

Worth the trouble

4/3/2006

Boys Chorus Tuition: Arm

Boys Chorus Uniform Budget: Half a leg

Gas expenses for driving boys to and from rehearsals twice a week: Part of the other arm



Seeing Boy singing the National Anthem on the Big Screen at Pac Bell Park (or whatever it's called now): Priceless.