ziteous maximus

I'm hiding behind my computer a bit today, a litle perplexed by the giant scab/dead skin patch on my chin where a rogue blemish lurked beneath the skin for awhile. Then I got impatient and rubbed at it, and now it looks like I've got some creative rug burn. Or something.

I'm forty, for pete's sakes. Why the acne now?? I thought I'd found a skin regime that would stop all this - this is my first breakout in three months, so I guess I can't complain, really...

Probably just couldn't compete with the news that the kids' school is on the review list. Again.

We've stopped this before. Clearly the odds are against us. But we have fire, and we have conviction.

And I have a zit. Damnit.

slipping in the snark

It's hazy out here, where I've been lately.  The weather is foul, murky-green shot through with bilious colours, and the footing is decidedly treacherous. If you ignore both the pond-stink of old water and whatever that was that just went squirming and shrieking off through the underbrush, it still looks sorta normal.

Kinda normal, anyway.

Ever get caught up in a relationship you look back on and know with a sick twist to your gut that you ignored your feelings, stuffed down the slightly-hysterical voice inside you that was giving you warnings, the i told you so i told you so i told you so clawing rampant under your skin? And then the ooze buuurps under your heels and you realize you're far too deep in to abandon ship now.

We bloggers get invested in each other. Hazard of the beast, really, when talking about our lives and families and children and carpool and work and work again. Then Facebook came along and catapulted us all into each other's laps, and I now know more about people I've never 'met' than some of the ones I've lived near for a decade now.

What do you do when you realize that someone you've looked up to isn't who you think they are? Someone who you've read for a few years, whose stories you've looked forward to and whose children you can call by name?

What do you do when the mask cracks and falls away and what you see beneath takes your breath away with revulsion - all the pretty stories sworn up and down to be truth exposed and crumbling in daylight, groups and websites sprung up to hammer home the point that you've believed a lie, a lie with a wide colourful bow, yes, but still a lie - what do you do?

I kind of wish I still was clueless. Because now? I gaze at my family in the light of the waning sun and know that I've lost something through this revelation, that the blogging community for me will never be the same again.

I mourn, yes.
And then I turn my back on the toad squatting in front of me and look towards the sun, clear at last.



**This has been bubbling for awhile, but I need to get it out and on the page before it festered from simple grief, disbelief and pity to hate**

party lobster

I walked around all weekend wondering what on earth was wrong with me.

I can't be getting old this fast, I thought. What on earth?

But still, plodding like an old mule. Tired. Heavy legs. Climbing the stairs took a long, long time. I had a nap both Saturday and Sunday. (Yes, it was delicious. But I don't usually do that, and it was starting to worry me)

Then on Sunday night I had a sunburn. And I finally clued in. (Cluelessness, thy name is Jess)

Sunday had been a day and a half.  It was Privateer Days, so the kids and I (deep breath)

went to:
a reptile show (and Cass handled a boa constrictor. I have pictures. I was too busy staring at the man that was putting a large and hungry-looking reptile on my son's shoulders making sure he knew what he was doing to really register it, but yes, my son wore a snake.

Bouncy castles.

Ate fair food. (God love the Kinsmen and their sinful, sinful french fries.)
Went to the library and the playground when it became apparent the midway people were sleeping in.
Went to the park
Dragged them home for a bit of quiet time
And ended up, like we have every day this week,
In the pool. For hours.
After a bite of dinner and a break, we roared back into town to go on the rides (I'm still the title-holding World's Meanest Mom because I won't let them go on the ride where they hang upside down)
and discovered that Miss Rosey has an incredible stomach for loop-de-loop and things you'd think would make her dizzy - not so!

She was still talking about how 'that ride made my brain feel like it was coming out of my ears, Mom! Let's go again!' when her brother finally drooped and cried uncle

and then we hung out on the playground

and watched fireworks when the sun went down.

They still had enough energy to bound up the stairs, complaining about the injustice of showers, and beg a few minutes of reading time. (They have me pegged. As long as they can get me reading, they've figured out bedtime can comfortably be forgotten.)

Then they went to bed. And it was all quiet.

I put out all the lights, struggled up the stairs one last time, and got ready for bed, realizing I was mightily red. And sore. My legs were killing me. What on earth?

Yes, Virginia, if you're going to spend afternoons in the pool, swishing and splashing and getting all sorts of unaccustomed exercise, it's best to use sunscreen.

worming right along

Cass did NOT want to do this. Last year the Worm Race had happened right after his Papa died, so he sat that one out, and this year....this year he had no interest in competing.

But it was so neat, you see. So absolutely small-town and rural and quaint, and exciting for the kids. When else can you take a small container of dirt to school and not have your teacher yell at you?

My son's school has had an annual Worm Race for over forty years. It's exactly what it sounds like - long stripes of wet dirt across the gym floor, a worm at one end, the finish line at the other. Lots of hooting and hollering, clapping and cheering.

Rosey was right out there in the yard, dragging a shovel and her father out, plotting where the fastest worms might hide, deciding where to dig. Cass dragged his heels a bit, but his interest perked up when he held two in his hand.

(Both went with two worms - one to use and a spare, in case someone else's special worm didn't want to run.)

So off they went.

And...

that's a third place medal right there.


He's marked the spot where we let the worms go, planning to re-capture his Wormy next year....

not even batting an eye any more

'Hurry! Faster! No, Get Off! Hurry! Hard!'

There is a strange female voice coming from the living room.

Has B succumbed to the lure of porn?


Nah. It's curling on tv.

dear people, I am grumpy again

part one of the whole grumpy mess can be found here

Dear Coca-Cola:

We got it. Canada won the big hockey game! Wahoo! Now STOP playing the commercials of the Olympics.
Please.
Everyone KNOWS whose game it is they're playing now.
Have a Coke and a smile my hind end,
Jess

Dear Viruses of Horribility:

For the LOVE OF CHRIST, LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE. Or at LEAST stop piggy-backing one another. Can I please get them healthy in-between attacks??

Soon I'll be erecting giant swags of bunting warning everyone that we are PARIAHS and MUST BE AVOIDED.
cough cough cough wheeze cough,
Jess

Dear Norwegian curlers:

I had a fever-dream about THOSE PANTS. Y'all are nice eye-candy, but I could DO WITHOUT THE HARLEQUIN PRINT seared into my brain..  
Du er søt, uansett hva du slitasje.
(wink) 
A fan 


Dear March -
I know it's only the second day. But so far, you kinda suck.
Just putting you on report.

I could probably quit you and not look back, y'know,
Jess

Dear Husband -
Beloved as you may be, asking me if I gave the girl Tylenol when I've been up with her since yesterday is NOT conducive to a harmonious morning. Of COURSE I would have given her Tylenol - if she just hadn't thrown up a dose of cough medicine and two sips of Power Drink.
I may just leave you to figure this out by yourself.
Enjoy that white shirt while you can,
Your loving wife (who has a hot date with a cool pillow)

dear people, I am grumpy

Dear Facebook people:
First off, where in the hell are y'all from? I have a certain amount of blog friends on there, and a few high school and college people, and some local friends. Even some family. Some of you I do not know. You are either friends of friends, or (and this is the only thing I can figure out) you know my husband, troll his friend list, see me, and think AHA! She's local! I'm sure if Bear ran over me in the parking lot she would sympathise and then add me to your list.

People, this is just plain weird. I spend most of the time with new friend requests barking at Bear. 'Who's X So-and-So? She's on the local network - is she related to R So-and-So? How in the hell would I know her?'

And then I okay you, because I am polite, and you rattle around on my friend list until I grow a backbone and zap you off, because frankly? You're not doing me a darn bit of good there. Hearing that you visited Ted and Shirley yesterday and had a great time is fabulous - I'm so glad you're enjoying your winter and taking time to update the rest of us!- but since I don't know Ted, nor Shirley, it matters not to me. Ted Smith? Jones? Bundy??

Now cut this crap out. When you ask to be put on someone's friend list, there's a place where you can write down how you know someone. Do us all a favor and fill it out.

Dear Goodreads people-
I love Goodreads. I do. I read a lot, and it's fun to get book recommendations and ideas from other readers. Again, there's this 'friend me' thing going on. Last week, I was asked to friend someone living in Japan.

I've never been to Japan.

Is there some way you sort users by how many books they have in their libraries? Because I keep getting friend requests from people in the most unlikely places (Des Moines?? Minsk??) and with very few books or authors read in common. I don't post a lot of reviews (three or four a month?) or do anything particularly noteworthy - exactly where are people getting my name from to add me to their lists?

Again, I have nothing against making friends on Goodreads. Wanna friend me? Great! Just let me know where in hell I know (or should know) you from.


Thoroughly disgruntled,

Jess

rock on

For a girl that says her Santa list is all about Barbie, Miss R seems to be having a good time with other pursuits. Things like B's set of Tinkertoys and her Mom's love of old eighties bands combine to produce small girls' rocking out with a home-made guitar, belting out Night Ranger's 'Don't Tell Me You Love Me' and shaking her arse.

Not that we mind, of course. The less pink plastic in her life, the better....

we are all different colours

It's been two days of wet, windy, grey weather.

When I peeped outside this morning and saw the sun (the sun!) shining down through the remaining leaves and skipping across the surface of the river, it was all I could do not to run outside and shout.

Hello! Where have you been??

Today we'll go out in the wind and the sun and play in all that flash and arresting autumn-tide until the kids smell like toasty crunchy leaves themselves, and then we'll sneak back in for warm milk

and maybe a cooky.

Days like this are so alive.

do you....wanna....play?*

I love word games.

My parents started me out on a game called simply 'Dictionary'. The leader opened the dictionary to any page and read out a word. Everyone playing then wrote down a made-up definition of the word while the reader wrote down the correct definition. The leader collected the slips, read them all out, and then people had to guess what the correct definition was. The zanier, the better.

Then came circle-a-words, crosswords, acrostics, and word jumbles. The pleasure of solving things in pen and ink!

These days I have less time for pen and paper, (although I keep a crossword puzzle book next to the bed - it's great for those nights when you can't fall asleep and suddenly it's 4 am) and it's mostly the computer.

Scrabble, scrabulous, word whomp, scramble, ladderwords, wordcube, wordtwist, any and all. I'm not wonderful at them, but I really like them.

Which is another reason I'm not sleeping right now - too many games, too many friends.

Wanna play?

*Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, of course!

I may never be a real grown-up

Cass hit his full stride heading for the house, spurred on by the thought of hot chocolate.

"Last one there's a rotten egg!'

And what does it say about me that the first thing I thought to say wasn't

Don't run! You'll fall!
or
That's not nice!
or even
Watch out and don't push Rosey!

but

'NOT INCLUDED!'

passing on dubious pursuits

Bear's been making noises about buying a game system for Christmas. Supposedly for the children.

To be fair, Cassidy has been clamouring for one since the first day he walked into school. All that wholesome peer pressure, and that.

B researched them, and I put the kibosh on buying a new one ($400 dollars? Are you KIDDING?) and we'll see if we get a system at all, but in the meantime...

Cass was given some money from his grandfather for having a splendiforous report card*, and decided he wanted to pick out a toy. While he was deciding which model plane he wanted, I spied something.Something I remembered from way back.

Sonic the Hedgehog.




I ambled over and picked up the package.

Okay, plug-and-play. Okay, Sonic, Ecco the Dolphon, Columns, a few more I didn't really remember....ten bucks? Sold.

And now my six year old is beating my bum on Sonic.

Although I can still outjump him while playing Ecco.



*A) The kid is a genius. All his teachers agree. Well, they used words like 'really enjoys school' and 'clearly understands all the concepts we talk about', but I knew what they meant.

and

B)Bear and his siblings are still gape-mouthed in disbelief. Money? for grades? But we never.... Funny how the rules don't apply for grandkids.

books books I love books

tagged by Major Bedhead - I want to visit her sometime, and in between playing with her criminally cute offspring, covet her books a little. (And after that sentence, she'll probably be putting a deadbolt up....)


Total number of books owned: I'd say between fifty and a hundred in this house. I really cleared house when I moved - the library loves me.

Last book bought: National Geographic Photography Field Guide (which I should have read more in the bookstore, because it's getting a bit technical for me)

and a lucky find: Little Men, Louisa May Alcott, a lovely old (1913) copy with colored plates - paid .50 at a Frenchy's last week...ahh, love the bins!

Last book read: Am reading Afterwards, You're A Genius - a really engrossing book about medicine and the metaphysics of healing. The last few chapters have been about the history of medicine and it's just been incredible. The chapters are short, funny, and a good read.

Five Books that Mean a Lot to You: Humm. Everytime I think of different answers. So many good books...

A Wind In The Door, Madeleine L'Engle. The sequel to A Wrinkle In Time, this one was softer and more introspective. (And Calvin was still dishy.)

The Black Stallion series, Walter Farley. I'm afraid to go back and read these now, because I loved them SO MUCH when I was fourteen and horse-mad. I'm really, really hoping R will. But they were beautiful.

Flowers For Algernon, Daniel Keyes. My Dad gave me his copy, and then we discussed it. I think it was the first time that it connected that grown-up people talked about books and how they felt reading them, not just high schoolers.

The Witch Of Blackbird Pond, Elizabeth George Speares. Haunting story about a young girl who leaves a colorful, culture rich life in Barbados and travels to Colonial America, where she's laughed at for being different. How she copes and the lessons she learns about fitting in while remaining wholly herself are amazing.

The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, Joan Aiken. I loved this Victorian tale of two spunky heroines trying to get away from a nasty governess (strong tones of Sara Crewe in The Little Princess) and used to plot elaborate escape routes out of my house so I could have an adventure like they did. I re-read this one a few months ago and found it....well, silly, but back then? I probably could have quoted you bits and pieces.

(I'm adding this one)

Five Books That You Just Don't Get:

Alice In Wonderland, L. Carroll. I read this monstrosity twice in high school and three times in college. Even if you accept the fact that Carroll was a raving drug user there is still a LOT of crazy running through this book.

Love You Forever, Robert Munsch. Cass and I read it once and that night he had a nightmare that I was under the bed, waiting until he went to sleep so I could stick my head up over the edge of the bed and shout boo! And I must have missed the parenting class where they said it was perfectly appropriate to sneak into my child's bedroom even when he lives across town. And has a baby of his own. Um, yeah.

The da Vinci Code. Just. Didn't. Think. It. Was. Worth. The. Ink. Or the paper. Or the hype.

Good In Bed, Jennifer Werner. I like other books of hers (Try In Her Shoes) but this one was bleak, dark, and depressing.

The Five People You Meet In Heaven. Just....no.

If you haven't, and want to, I TAG YOU.

stumbling

I blame Poppy.

I HEREBY DECLARE TUESDAY LINK DAY:

Pretty pretty.

Amazing.

Addicting.

Very Cool.

Ponderous.

Incredible.



Now, guess what I did all day? Go on, guess!

twisty-turvy

My step-father's sister (which is slightly less clunky than saying my step-aunt, but only just) sends me puzzles by e-mail.

See if you can figure this one out.

What do these words have in common?
Banana

Dresser

Grammar

Potato

Revive

Uneven

Assess

Need the answer? (me too.)

In all of the words listed, if you take the first letter, place it at
the end of the word, and then spell the word backwards, it will be the same
word.

Did you figure it out?

mixed drinks are my friend

Alternately titled: Why Santa cannot come back



Sixty gagillion parts. Sixty gagillion teeny parts. Good directions, but what was I thinking??

My favorite part is how Mader is playing with glow-in-the-dark dinosaur, and they're all ignoring the big tough dragons.

gettin' crafty

I raced around after work tonight with the kids, looking for foam wreaths and gumdrops. Kiddley had a terrific craft idea, and C was hot to try it. (This has been happening a lot lately. He's either getting more creative or he should stop looking at the computer when I check my blogs.)

But there were no wreaths, and precious few gumdrops. I finally bought some sparkly pipe cleaners, round foam balls, and two bags of spice drops.

When we got home, we discovered that one of the bags had bigger gumdrops than the other, but no matter.

R snitched sweeties here and there while Cass helped me get the toothpicks ready and wrap the pipe cleaners around the styrofoam balls. Then we were off!



Cass picked up all the funny shaped gumdrops he could for his 'martian' ball - it's on the bottom. He really enjoyed doing this and it kept him occupied for almost an hour.

Aren't they pretty?

being a good elf

Earlier today I wrote about re-stringing Cass's tree with lights.

Because:
"There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side.
So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear.
I'll fix it up there. Then I'll bring it back here."*

First, the only strand I could find that wasn't missing a ton of bulbs or blown completely was for the outdoors. The wire was bright white, (although the bulbs are colorful enough) and the strand was about twenty feet long.

This did not go well on his three feet tall, shiny blue tree. (Hers is gold. It's a tradition, darn it, noone said it was in good taste. Besides, blue is his favorite color.)

Wrapping the twenty-foot strand of lights around the spindly tree wasn't going to do it. Or rather, it would fit, but I'd be teaching the kids new cuss words and there we go with the good taste thing again.

So I folded it. Twice. And with my thick (but now only five foot long!) rope of lights, I whipped the tree into submission.

With the lights off you can see the cord. The tree looks as if it's a victim of foul play. Is there tree bondage?



But when his room-lights are out, and the tree is turned on, it's a real tree, and a dandy thing to fall asleep and dream Christmas dreams to.



And tomorrow they wake up to find funny headthings in their rooms - C has red antlers that light up and sing and R has snowflakes on springs. If I'm awake enough tomorrow I'll take pictures!

*Have you been Seuss-ified this holiday?

and I think I'm going out of my head....

November's over and it's the weekend and WHERE ARE ALL THE POSTS?

NaBloPoMo - wow. An experience. But now I think I'm going through withdrawal.

Before, I could click on Bloglines (a useful tool, I recommend it) and there would be 20 or 30 freshly minted posts there for my perusal....now there are 4.
FOUR.

Only in weight loss could it be considered a good thing to go from a 20 to a 4.

Pens up, people! I miss you!

one of these things is not like the other

Can you guess?



Bear made supper tonight - when I came in out of a chill and drippy night the house smelt of meatloaf and onions and it was wonderful to come in and have supper done.

While I was dishing up for the kids he held out his hand. "What do you think of this potato?"
I looked, thinking it would be warty or sprouty or in the shape of a capitol C.... but it looked like a potato.

Except it's a rock.


He found it in the potato bag. Stone Soup, anyone?