Finally, a purpose for Twitter

So this is totally mean-spirited of me, but it's been a crappy day, and following the fool(s) at http://twitter.com/UglyShitOnEtsy has made me laugh and laugh.

Hope is the thing with feathers

I'm sure this election is full of a lot of very specific memories for everyone. These are mine:

Lucy: "John McBush isn't a good President. Barack Obama is better. John McCain is nice." This morning she asked if she could have a sleepover with Barack Obama. I thought, "my god, Lucy wants to spend the night in the Lincoln Bedroom!"

Henry: He sat this morning glued to CNN. Then he put his hands in the air and said, "The Democrats did it! It's their turn. Until now every president has been white. Now an African-American gets a turn. "

My brother: He and I exchanged exclamatory text messages. He said he could hear people cheering in the streets outside his Manhattan apartment.

Cary: He held onto my hand for dear life through Obama's entire speech. He also kept commenting on how great the picture was on our new TV.

Here are my hopes:

1. I hope my mom gets some more sleep now that Sarah Palin can't do any real harm until 2012, and maybe never.

2. I hope the Republicans actually work with Obama and we see more of the John McCain of last night's concession and not the McCain that campaigned.

3. I hope the rest of the world hates us a little bit less.

4. I hope Lucy doesn't find out that Sasha and Malia are getting a puppy.

Not the good kind of record

I just got two calls from school today in the span of 15 minutes. I think we just set a record. I feel a little queasy.

Now I actually have to go to school to pick Henry up from Spanish and try and contain Lucy while we wait for class to end. She just asked if she can wear her Tiger costume (again). Maybe I will say yes so at least I can be amused for a little bit.

It could always be worse but it was certainly messy

The good: Henry finally finished reading the biography of Mozart aloud to me. Next up is James and the Giant Peach. I hope he keeps this up.

The bad: He was not home for even five minutes when he knocked an entire bottle of Dave's Insanity sauce onto the kitchen floor.

The ugly: I thought dumping baking soda on it would make it easier to clean because it would soak up the mess, but it just made it look like vomit -- vomit made up of habernero peppers and glass shards.

Only my child

can put me in this maddening position.

First, you must know that Henry freaks if Lucy makes any noise at all while he is doing his homework. Thank God it usually only takes a few minutes.

So, I go to the trouble to get her on the computer, and after several false starts she is finally content and quiet.

Then he has disappeared.

Then I hear the sound of the violin.

He doesn't want to finish his math, do his reading, or practice his spelling. He just wants to play violin.

So once again I find myself in the ridiculous position of getting mad at my kid for wanting to play music.

I wouldn't mind so much if I hadn't just arranged everything just so to accommodate his idiosyncrasies, only to have him ignore me anyway.

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Now playing: Stereo Image - Pack Moves
via FoxyTunes

Get your Holiday shopping started early

I just discovered Indie Fixx -- they cover handmade goods of all types. I will definitely be consulting them to get gift ideas.

And to motivate you, they are having a really great giveaway, so check it.

A few bright spots

So I pulled myself up, dusted myself off, and got distracted.

1. Lucy has been cracking me up. She got out the Mr. Potatohead yesterday, decked it out, and said, "I made Cary. Hi, Cary. You're a potato."

2. Cary and I were in hysterics over a fake political campaign where I run for State Senate and my slogan "I want to serve you so I can stop serving them" -- where them refers to my family.

3. I've been cranking out the submissions for the next print issue of Venus - in better bookstores everywhere on 12/1/08. I've more or less quintupled my contributions. V. exciting.

4. I'm lucky to have such lovely friends, and it's great to get to see them once in awhile.

Trough

1. Yesterday we finally got that phone call from school. Henry had refused to do what the teacher had asked and had gotten very upset. The call itself and the reason for it wasn't that bad, but I had to take the phone call with the bus coming up the street and Lucy clinging to my leg and screaming.

2. Today Henry came home with his pant legs wet up to his mid calves, his socks ruined, and his shoes sopping wet because there were puddles under the swings.

3. And we got his school pictures back and you can see food on his face. Food. on his face. I'm livid. Did no one inspect him? Now we have to hope that they bother to schedule retakes before he has his lunch.

My mood is crap. Between the TV and the neighbor's lawnmower I think I'm about to eat my own head.

I've got some stuff up at Venus and Donnybrook. I seriously don't even feel like linking to it.

They call them long weekends for a reason

I'd just like to say, for the record, that long weekends piss me off. My kids don't have school again until next Tuesday, and I have no earthly idea what I am going to do with them from now until our routine resumes.

I would welcome the time with my kids if they were just nicer to each other. Every time Henry plays the piano Lucy screams. I can't believe I'm actually telling my kid to stop practicing piano. I feel more like a referee than a mom.

On the bright side, I've got a bunch of stuff up on the web. I declare my love for Sigg bottles at Venus. Also at Venus I express disappointment in the latest Stills record. At Donnybrook I cover These United States and Her Space Holiday, both of which are excellent.

Testing 1,2,3

So this probably won't be a regular thing, but Lumpyhead's mom wanted pictures, so pictures you shall have.

Cardigan - random brand, Dress - Liz Claiborne, Socks - Chinese Laundry, Shoes - Sanita

This is the first time I have ever worn this dress because it is too big on top, so I was excited to realize I could just throw a sweater on and no one will know (except you, dear reader).

Also, it's a big hair day.

Driven to distraction

To keep myself from dwelling on the big things that I cannot control (i.e. the election) and the little things (i.e. the downfall of the TiVo impersonators and my feelings of technological inadequacy), I've done some window shopping.

It began when Emily Martin (of Black Apple fame) mentioned Wardrobe Remix on her other blog. Now I just sit and stare at the pictures of people in their everyday clothes while my brain fuzzes over. Sweet, sweet peace.

I have actually learned a few things too. Buffalo really needs to get an H&M or a Zara. And I am going to embark on a little wardrobe remix project of my own, which is to wear skirts on occasion instead of just jeans and T-shirts. I don't plan on taking any photos of myself to add to the anonymous fashion parade, but if I do, I will be sure to post about it.

Time to concede

The TiVo impersonators finally got the best of us. Cary and I dismantled them last night and re-installed our old TiVo. Now once again we can have audio and video that are in sync! We can use the microwave without making the TV freeze!

It makes me feel a little queasy to think of the amount of time and energy that I devoted to trying to make these stupid things work. I just want to watch a little TV at night. I don't want to devote the better part of my day to trouble shooting only to have the system fail just when it is time for Project Runway.

Cary and I may be technologically landlocked, but at least we are happier.

Not so great news from the Vet

The Vet called to say she got the report back from the Histopath regarding Sufi's tumor. The Histopath thought the Vet didn't get the whole tumor. Shit. But he couldn't be sure. Which leaves me wondering why the hell couldn't he be sure? The Vet tried to pawn the blame off on the lab techs that took the sample for the histopath. I really don't care who is to blame I just wish the news was better.

In annoying, but less important news, I spent the morning running around trying to get a NYS enhanced driver's license. And I learned something about myself. No, not that I hate senseless buracracy, but that my birth certificate is not valid proof of citizenship. Apparently in the state of Illinois it was (is?) commonplace to give out a hospital certificate with a little poem about angels and my mother's thumbprint. However I never received a copy of the state's record of my birth, which is the only proof NYS or the US Govt will accept for creating travel documents. So, close to $50 later, nearly 1/2 of which was for UPS overnight shipping (why do they only give me one choice for shipping and it costs $19!), I will have all the documentation I need to spend another $80 on the enhanced driver's license, so I can still go to Canada. Grr.

It's already Sunday afternoon?!

I've slept the weekend away. I've had a terrible cold and have pretty much spent several hours each day completely knocked out. I hope this doesn't lead to insomnia tonight...

Our TiVo impersonators still don't work correctly, nor is the picture good enough for Cary to enjoy football. I don't even care any more, but I wish we had never bought them. TiVo made TV so much better and these things make it an infinite hassle where there is always a new problem to worry about.

I've got a couple new reviews up. I review The Donkeys' Living on the Other Side over at Venus and I review Lightbulbs by Fujiya & Miyagi at Donnybrook.

In which I bitch about the PTA

Why is it that the PTA at Henry's school seems to go out of their way to make me feel like I am inconveniencing them every time I volunteer to help? I volunteered to be the room parent last year because they asked me to, and I did not enjoy it. This year I wrote on the form to "call me if no one else volunteers" because last year that is what they told us to do. Sure enough, someone called me and asked me to be a room parent. I said sure. This was a couple of weeks ago. Then I got a call today, three hours before I was supposed to be at a meeting for room parents, saying that "people who had never done it had asked if they could be room parent, so they had to let them because that was their policy."

To which I say, "fine." But instead of saying, "we really appreciate your offer to help" she acted like she needed to comfort me that I hadn't been chosen and told me that I shouldn't fret because "I could still get into the classroom on party days." What? Is the classroom like a secret society that I need a key for? And why didn't they wait to call until they knew everyone had responded? Isn't that just common sense?

This is probably the fifth time I've dealt with the PTA and every single time has been unpleasant, insensitive, and rude. If I didn't feel guilt for not having a real job I would have a much easier time saying no. I think that's why I feel so crappy about this. That, and because in three years at Henry's school I have yet to make friends with even one other parent.

What I woke up to this morning

A huge tree had cracked in half when the remnants of Ike passed through last night.
But I was still happy to see how nice the Cimifuga looked surrounded by the Toad lilies and Astilbe, and I was grateful that the lawn was the only thing crushed by the falling tree.

Apropos of nothing, I've got a new review of the glammy Semi Precious Weapons up at Venus.

Today sucked for the following reasons:

1. Henry completely lost it on the soccer field. And while I was not there to see it, both he and Cary came home from the game, early, and utterly deflated.

2. Sufi was traumatized by my two attempts to administer her pain pill via syringe. Now she isn't eating again. But I'm comforted that she is sitting in my lap, purring as I type this.

3. The weather was dark and wet. I'm not sure the sun even rose today.

4. According to the NYT David Foster Wallace committed suicide. Suicide is largely a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I still grieve for Spaulding Gray and his family. And I wish we lived in a country that fostered better support for depression.

5. I'm starting to freak out about the election. I can't live with the idea that a book burning Jesus freak might be making decisions that affect my children for the rest of their lives. Toronto has never looked so good.

6. And the TiVo impersonators are crapping out on us again.

It was another long day

but hey, that's my bread and butter.

Have I mentioned the new computer? Yah. The computer itself is actually fine, but the ancillary TiVo impersonators and the router were giving me fits. I spent three hours on the phone with tech support today. Then a quick call to my knowledgeable brother-in-law solved everything. As of now we have a working system, but I'm not confident that it will still work tomorrow.

In more important news, I took Sufi in to have a tumor removed from her upper lip. She's at least 13, and with each passing year I worry more about her health. The surgery went really well, though the portion of her lip and cheek on the left side of her face is no more. Still as sweet as ever, she sat on my lap and purred all evening, even though she has shaved whiskers and an Elizabethan collar.

First world problem if ever there was one...

We got a new computer today. I have been working on setting it up since 3 pm, however, I still can't post from it or use it for e-mail until I decide to give up the ghost of migrating Firefox and Thunderbird from XP to Vista. I think I figured out what to do with my iPod. A pox on technology.

On the bright side, I stopped thinking about Sarah Palin for more than five minutes.

Henry's first day of school was free of nosebleeds, forgotten backpacks, and homework! Can't ask for more than that. I hope everyone else's kids fared as well.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Henry starts second grade tomorrow. As I just told him, kids I knew in second grade came to my wedding. And that's enough to freak me out before anything even goes wrong. I really hope this is his year. The year that we do not get "the phone call." Maybe even the year that he initiates having his friends over. It's tough not to raise the expectations unreasonably. It's even tougher to believe that, in a pinch, he's big enough to wear my socks.