Sometime shortly after Thanksgiving, in the past few years, we've begun the Christmas music season with a family favorite, The Nutcracker. I've put it off till today waiting for that right time when we were all at the house together and could have the whole family kick off Christmas music season together.
I broke down, just minutes ago, because I need some music in the background. I have cleaning to do because I don't want the babysitter to think we live like we do. Sure the massive hole is still in the wall in the hall, and sure the carpet is stained to hell and back. But I can at least do away with the piles. Piles in sight just from the computer chair include announcing notes from this year's derby bouts, notes from soccer coaching, magazines that just don't have a reasonable home, books the boys have read and left where they finished, the unyholy trinity of VHS/DVD/video games that frame the tv and block the little remote beam making it difficult to turn things on and off.
Don't ask why there is a pair of jeans in the floor. Don't ask about the scattered critters peopling various and sundry places. Don't ask why the Hallowe'en box is still here as opposed to the attic. Don't ask about the wooden train pile. The tracks and engines and cars are in their containers, but those containers are sitting in the middle of the living room, so don't ask. The soccer ball in the living room is not new. They end up all over the house.
I need to develop the habit of maintaining cleaning, keeping things put away. I don't generally mind the clutter because it doesn't always appear in my line of site as I look about the house. I see the animal hair in the carpet only when it's stuck to a dropped piece of food or a child's face (thank Eris for small short haired dogs.) It just doesn't occur to me until I know that someone is coming to the house, then I nearly panic. Now it's time to mildly freak out, just enough to have some sense about me as I rush about trying to find a place I'm fine with the house being.
Also, I need to do some laundry and take a shower after which I need to do more laundry. I need Momma to get off work early today so I can take a month's worth of empty beer bottles to the big blue bins behind Kroger (or Krogers as we say in the south.)
Whatever you do today, enjoy it, and if it helps, imagine me standing in the living room, hands full of recyclable paper and stuff that probably needs to be filed while I try to stop my head spinning long enough to remember what I was doing. Laugh at me even if you'd like. I'd laugh if it was you.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
finding me where?
In all the recent brouhaha over the Not Really Indicative Of Us At All Homeschool Blog Awards we haven't really forgotten last year's debacle, but many of us may still be getting hits from them. I certainly did get one, and I hoped they liked what they saw. More likely they freaked out and hit their back button.
Que Sera Sera!
Que Sera Sera!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
sweet potato soup
Wandering through the grocery store recently I was wracking my brain for something to cook. I had a short list of necessities and enough leftovers in the fridge that I didn't really need to cook anything. I was getting a little tired of the leftovers however and was wanting something, anything, else.
I considered what we had available that could be turned into something edible, wondered what few things I'd need from the grocery store to make that happen. How these things work themselves out in my brain I may never know, but I'll try to make this quick and sensible.
I remembered that Momma had recently picked up more sweet potatoes than she needed for something she had cooked, so we had extra sweet potatoes sitting around. I continued to wonder what there was, how could I make it a meal and still spend little money?
Soup! which is not really how it occurred to me, but it came to me at some point, and it presented itself more as a potato soup with sweet potatoes than as an outright sweet potato soup. And who else should appear in this idea than everyone's favorite? Bacon!
Bacon! does appear and occur that way because it's bacon, simple as shit.
I'm not really a soup kind of guy for the most part. I enjoy soup, but it really needs to be a simple something to lead you to the next something, or it needs to be a stew that you're calling soup because you started out with soup in mind.
That night did not see me making the soup as I'd originally intended, and I can't know what would have come of that original thought. The idea did stick in my brain, and I had bought extra sweet potatoes and bacon with this soup in mind, so I knew I was going to eventually make it. That night actually finally came last night, some three to four days later than I'd originally conceived it.
In lieu of a recipe, I'll give you the short version of walking you through the steps.
Four slices of bacon were cut in half across the middle, stacked on top of each other and split long ways. I then cut it all roughly a half inch and tossed it into the pot which was on the stove at about medium high. I'd finely diced some onion, carrot and celery, and as soon as the bacon was almost over cooked I eased it out to drain, leaving the bacon fat in the pot to sautee my veggies. As the veggies began to take on a little brown around the edges I added a bit of flour, as if cooking starchy potatoes wouldn't thicken the soup enough. Next were those same potatoes, four sweet potatoes, peeled and diced about an inch, one can of chicken stock (a can because I haven't made any in a while) and enough water to just cover the potatoes. Add to this two tiny bay leaves, tiny because I always use the big ones first, and I'm down to the tiny ones.
At this point, if you are making this, you can maybe run and check your email or, as I did, remind Big Brother that his turn at the Nintendo is over and that The Boy gets his three hours of Spyro the Dragon now.
Something like twenty to thirty minutes will pass, though the soup is about to go into the blender/food processor, so you're welcome to overcook them if you'd like. After you achieve the texture you want in the aforementioned device, return the lot to the burner, add the bacon and as much cream/half&half/milk as you need to achieve the thickness you want. Add some nutmeg and white pepper and salt as well. Taste it and add some more of those same spices if you want.
I enjoyed it. Big Brother and The Boy ate some and didn't hate it. There's a little left over that Momma will get to try. I was happy with it, though I wasn't satisfied with it. I'm not sure what I'm going to change exactly. Mine ended up like mashed sweet potatoes with bacon, and I really do want it more of a soup. It really begged for more stock. I used milk as my dairy enricher and would prefer heavy cream, but that would require more still more stock. My aim is to keep the sweet potatoes as the primary flavor, so it's a balancing act between the three liquids. Also, at no point should one feel the need to add cinnamon and/or ginger because we aren't looking for a pie flavoring here.
I considered what we had available that could be turned into something edible, wondered what few things I'd need from the grocery store to make that happen. How these things work themselves out in my brain I may never know, but I'll try to make this quick and sensible.
I remembered that Momma had recently picked up more sweet potatoes than she needed for something she had cooked, so we had extra sweet potatoes sitting around. I continued to wonder what there was, how could I make it a meal and still spend little money?
Soup! which is not really how it occurred to me, but it came to me at some point, and it presented itself more as a potato soup with sweet potatoes than as an outright sweet potato soup. And who else should appear in this idea than everyone's favorite? Bacon!
Bacon! does appear and occur that way because it's bacon, simple as shit.
I'm not really a soup kind of guy for the most part. I enjoy soup, but it really needs to be a simple something to lead you to the next something, or it needs to be a stew that you're calling soup because you started out with soup in mind.
That night did not see me making the soup as I'd originally intended, and I can't know what would have come of that original thought. The idea did stick in my brain, and I had bought extra sweet potatoes and bacon with this soup in mind, so I knew I was going to eventually make it. That night actually finally came last night, some three to four days later than I'd originally conceived it.
In lieu of a recipe, I'll give you the short version of walking you through the steps.
Four slices of bacon were cut in half across the middle, stacked on top of each other and split long ways. I then cut it all roughly a half inch and tossed it into the pot which was on the stove at about medium high. I'd finely diced some onion, carrot and celery, and as soon as the bacon was almost over cooked I eased it out to drain, leaving the bacon fat in the pot to sautee my veggies. As the veggies began to take on a little brown around the edges I added a bit of flour, as if cooking starchy potatoes wouldn't thicken the soup enough. Next were those same potatoes, four sweet potatoes, peeled and diced about an inch, one can of chicken stock (a can because I haven't made any in a while) and enough water to just cover the potatoes. Add to this two tiny bay leaves, tiny because I always use the big ones first, and I'm down to the tiny ones.
At this point, if you are making this, you can maybe run and check your email or, as I did, remind Big Brother that his turn at the Nintendo is over and that The Boy gets his three hours of Spyro the Dragon now.
Something like twenty to thirty minutes will pass, though the soup is about to go into the blender/food processor, so you're welcome to overcook them if you'd like. After you achieve the texture you want in the aforementioned device, return the lot to the burner, add the bacon and as much cream/half&half/milk as you need to achieve the thickness you want. Add some nutmeg and white pepper and salt as well. Taste it and add some more of those same spices if you want.
I enjoyed it. Big Brother and The Boy ate some and didn't hate it. There's a little left over that Momma will get to try. I was happy with it, though I wasn't satisfied with it. I'm not sure what I'm going to change exactly. Mine ended up like mashed sweet potatoes with bacon, and I really do want it more of a soup. It really begged for more stock. I used milk as my dairy enricher and would prefer heavy cream, but that would require more still more stock. My aim is to keep the sweet potatoes as the primary flavor, so it's a balancing act between the three liquids. Also, at no point should one feel the need to add cinnamon and/or ginger because we aren't looking for a pie flavoring here.
fwiw
Yes, for what it's worth, and for the sake of clarification, the proper word is "embiggen" as opposed to the "enbiggen" that I know I've used at least a couple of times in recent video posts.
You should all know without needing me to tell you that it's a Simpsons word, but I'm sure some of you don't, poor backward souls. The founder of the town of Springfield, Jebediah Springfield, is represented and honored by a statue of himself the base of which contains a quote of his, "A noble spirit embiggens the smallest man."
Thanks to Momma for pointing out to me the thing I should not have needed to be told as she read the most recent post in which I posted a video. Thanks to me for not making a really bad embiggening joke about watching Mr. Wainwright play the piano in that same post.
You should all know without needing me to tell you that it's a Simpsons word, but I'm sure some of you don't, poor backward souls. The founder of the town of Springfield, Jebediah Springfield, is represented and honored by a statue of himself the base of which contains a quote of his, "A noble spirit embiggens the smallest man."
Thanks to Momma for pointing out to me the thing I should not have needed to be told as she read the most recent post in which I posted a video. Thanks to me for not making a really bad embiggening joke about watching Mr. Wainwright play the piano in that same post.
dap
Timing kitchen work with NPR is a general goal of mine, and I have always enjoyed getting to listen to Terry Gross' show Fresh Air. Her guests today were Sharon Jones and Benjamin Roth of the band Sharon Jones and the Daptones. Both were fun to listen to as they recounted stories of their past and how this band came to be.
The band has an amazing old soul sound. Sharon Jones' voice has a great power to it that I really fell in love with. As Fresh Air ended and I brought our lunch to the table, I sat down here with some YouTube and proceeded to enjoy a number of the band's songs. As usual, if you like good music, I'm just the one to bring it to you.
HERE is the Daptones Records page at YouTube. HERE is a link to the song if you want to embiggen. Obviously below is the video itself here at my little ol' place.
The band has an amazing old soul sound. Sharon Jones' voice has a great power to it that I really fell in love with. As Fresh Air ended and I brought our lunch to the table, I sat down here with some YouTube and proceeded to enjoy a number of the band's songs. As usual, if you like good music, I'm just the one to bring it to you.
HERE is the Daptones Records page at YouTube. HERE is a link to the song if you want to embiggen. Obviously below is the video itself here at my little ol' place.
Monday, November 26, 2007
update? maybe?
Poor little nearly abandoned blog that I miss so. Oddly enough, I've had a lot on my mind lately. Momma and I really need to begin cutting back our drinking. We have a wall of Yuengling bottles that need to be recycled along with at least three boxes of mixed paper. And yes I did say Yuengling, newly available in my town, and I think I've drank enough to give a Christmas bonus to at least one of the gals in the typing pool.
Momma's gotten to bear the brunt of the late night drinking both because she's the one occasionaly having to get up too early with too little sleep and because I'm a beast to wake up. I haven't actually heard the alarm in months I'd wager, though my phone alarm did work to get me up (not really ever) on time for those eight soccer Saturdays.
Consider yourself lucky that I've avoided posting the last couple of days, other than the couple I did post. You'd likely have found yourself ignoring about fifteen different posts that were nothing but Rufus Wainwright videos. I even caught The Boy singing Across the Universe which he doesn't realize is a Beatles song, though I did play a version by the Beatles for him.
I know I've hinted in the past about needing to return to the work force, and that's certainly come up lately. I know I should be able to get back into the restaurant business, and I really do sort of miss it, but I also sort of fear having to get back into it. It's a huge pain in the ass, and we'd need to go back to staggering our schedule so that one of is always with the boys. It would take so much of the work load off Momma's back and let her hang out with the kids again.
Was that an update? It almost seems like it could be. I don't really have any big huge news to share, at least not anymore. I also have finally gotten both boys in bed and have not smoked my usual boys-are-in-bed cigarette, so I'll leave you with those scattered thoughts.
Momma's gotten to bear the brunt of the late night drinking both because she's the one occasionaly having to get up too early with too little sleep and because I'm a beast to wake up. I haven't actually heard the alarm in months I'd wager, though my phone alarm did work to get me up (not really ever) on time for those eight soccer Saturdays.
Consider yourself lucky that I've avoided posting the last couple of days, other than the couple I did post. You'd likely have found yourself ignoring about fifteen different posts that were nothing but Rufus Wainwright videos. I even caught The Boy singing Across the Universe which he doesn't realize is a Beatles song, though I did play a version by the Beatles for him.
I know I've hinted in the past about needing to return to the work force, and that's certainly come up lately. I know I should be able to get back into the restaurant business, and I really do sort of miss it, but I also sort of fear having to get back into it. It's a huge pain in the ass, and we'd need to go back to staggering our schedule so that one of is always with the boys. It would take so much of the work load off Momma's back and let her hang out with the kids again.
Was that an update? It almost seems like it could be. I don't really have any big huge news to share, at least not anymore. I also have finally gotten both boys in bed and have not smoked my usual boys-are-in-bed cigarette, so I'll leave you with those scattered thoughts.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
little bit heiress
As promised in my last post, here is the song from which I stole the line that I used as a title for said post. Guess what! I did it again on this post and from the same song. Doc is somewhat to thank for the song, as it is from a list she made recently of songs she'd purchased. Reading her post I scanned the list, recognizing names here and there but not finding myself generally interested for the most part.
And then, toward the end of the list, Rufus Wainwright. This is a name I've heard, but I'd never really gotten into him. His music has stood out the few times I've heard it, most likely on various late night talk shows in those sad pre-cable days when we actually considered the low numbers on the tv. I couldn't really tell you where I'd heard him, but I had, and I remembered sort of.
A quick search at YouTube yeilded the song and a video worth enbiggening. I had a moment, may have swooned a bit and proceeded to spend a good portion of last night watching videos. I might have to spend my pot money on cd's.
And then, toward the end of the list, Rufus Wainwright. This is a name I've heard, but I'd never really gotten into him. His music has stood out the few times I've heard it, most likely on various late night talk shows in those sad pre-cable days when we actually considered the low numbers on the tv. I couldn't really tell you where I'd heard him, but I had, and I remembered sort of.
A quick search at YouTube yeilded the song and a video worth enbiggening. I had a moment, may have swooned a bit and proceeded to spend a good portion of last night watching videos. I might have to spend my pot money on cd's.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
little old doll with a frown
I've known for years. Momma has known for years. I've bottled it and buried it deep, but it was never deep enough. It's always resurfaced, and I've always faithfully pushed it back down again. Things have happened that have forced it to the surface, all the way out, never to be buried again.
Accepting that I'm gay is not difficult for me. Letting it out and knowing how to approach it intelligently is another matter. The hardest part of it all is the changes this forces on Momma and myself. All that we've come to accept as our life is now different.
I've known for years. I've bottled it and buried it and reburied it. I've avoided things that would bring it up. It's always been there. I've been learning lately how denying this truth has affected so much more than I could have imagined. I've been learning lately how much I've been lying to myself and how much work it's been trying to keep this buried.
And that's all I have for you right now. I've wanted to write this post for so long, but my many attempts have all fallen short. There's so much more to the story that doesn't really fit here right now, and I may never explain the story that this past year has been. I do hope that my having finally gotten this out will allow me to get back to my usual blogging self. Knowing that this post needed to be written yet being unable to has been my source of blog block lately, or so I hope. So look forward to me being able to write again soon.
The title of this post is from the song Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk by Rufus Wainwright. I'll post more concerning this as well as a video as soon as I feed some kids and grab a smoke.
Accepting that I'm gay is not difficult for me. Letting it out and knowing how to approach it intelligently is another matter. The hardest part of it all is the changes this forces on Momma and myself. All that we've come to accept as our life is now different.
I've known for years. I've bottled it and buried it and reburied it. I've avoided things that would bring it up. It's always been there. I've been learning lately how denying this truth has affected so much more than I could have imagined. I've been learning lately how much I've been lying to myself and how much work it's been trying to keep this buried.
And that's all I have for you right now. I've wanted to write this post for so long, but my many attempts have all fallen short. There's so much more to the story that doesn't really fit here right now, and I may never explain the story that this past year has been. I do hope that my having finally gotten this out will allow me to get back to my usual blogging self. Knowing that this post needed to be written yet being unable to has been my source of blog block lately, or so I hope. So look forward to me being able to write again soon.
The title of this post is from the song Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk by Rufus Wainwright. I'll post more concerning this as well as a video as soon as I feed some kids and grab a smoke.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
2 out of 3 really isn't that bad
But as we can all attest, the song really is. Thanks to Chris for pointing that out(in the comments) and earning the song of the day. Yes, you know going in what it is, and unless you like the song, you may be unwilling to watch this video. It's really worth it. HERE to go straight to YouTube for an enbiggening that I do honestly suggest for this treasure.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
oh really
So as I'm sure everyone knows, Hannah Montana's dad is Billy Ray Cyrus. Because I've included those two names in the very first line of this post I'm going outside to kick my own ass in about a minute and a half when I get through writing this .
I learned this bit of worthless trivia yesterday. We'd stopped for gas and cigarettes, me pumping, Momma getting to go inside for the smokes, and while waiting she read the headline in whatever paper apparently felt the need to put this on the front. She of course had to tell me as soon as she was back to the car.
I'm sure somewhere deep inside it's not really worthless trivia. I'm somehow strangely relieved to know that at least she comes by her suck naturally.
I learned this bit of worthless trivia yesterday. We'd stopped for gas and cigarettes, me pumping, Momma getting to go inside for the smokes, and while waiting she read the headline in whatever paper apparently felt the need to put this on the front. She of course had to tell me as soon as she was back to the car.
I'm sure somewhere deep inside it's not really worthless trivia. I'm somehow strangely relieved to know that at least she comes by her suck naturally.
fishnets
Yes, the title is Fishnets, yet this post is barely about them at all.
I've been a bad blogger. I received a package in the mail a week ago, though the package contents were not for me. I like fishnet stockings well enough, but I don't wear them. So who would send me these lovely items, and why would they send them to me?
They were actually for Momma. I commented at and linked to Sue Doe-Nim and did so in a timely fashion that won me the prize, the prize being the aforementioned fishnets. And now I have let time slip past and have not thanked Sue for her prize or generosity.
So thank you Sue! Momma was excited to receive new fishnets as hers wear quite worn through. She mentioned that they are the nicest she's ever owned and has sworn not to wear them for roller derby, especially on our home rink which is quite rude to those articles of clothing most likely to snag and be ruined by the ice court flooring our leagues skates on.
I've been a bad blogger. I received a package in the mail a week ago, though the package contents were not for me. I like fishnet stockings well enough, but I don't wear them. So who would send me these lovely items, and why would they send them to me?
They were actually for Momma. I commented at and linked to Sue Doe-Nim and did so in a timely fashion that won me the prize, the prize being the aforementioned fishnets. And now I have let time slip past and have not thanked Sue for her prize or generosity.
So thank you Sue! Momma was excited to receive new fishnets as hers wear quite worn through. She mentioned that they are the nicest she's ever owned and has sworn not to wear them for roller derby, especially on our home rink which is quite rude to those articles of clothing most likely to snag and be ruined by the ice court flooring our leagues skates on.
Friday, November 16, 2007
bitches
Turned the tv on, hoping for something not sucky. CNN features some uptight woman bitch and a pandering man bitch discussing some presidential candidate using the word bitch in regards to a female presidential candidate.
The discussion of course revolves somewhat around the fact that women willing to stand up and talk like a man are often seen as being bitches. And now we have a new wedge issue to take up time and air.
Quit being bitches about the word bitch. Sure it's not nice, but the same sort of comments are made about men, and no it isn't comparable, but neither is bitch comparable to nigger or spick.
Sometimes it takes being a bitch to get the job done. If you're so delicate that the mere word bitch can effect your ability to get the job done then you're already losing.
Step up, be a bitch and take care of your fucking business.
The discussion of course revolves somewhat around the fact that women willing to stand up and talk like a man are often seen as being bitches. And now we have a new wedge issue to take up time and air.
Quit being bitches about the word bitch. Sure it's not nice, but the same sort of comments are made about men, and no it isn't comparable, but neither is bitch comparable to nigger or spick.
Sometimes it takes being a bitch to get the job done. If you're so delicate that the mere word bitch can effect your ability to get the job done then you're already losing.
Step up, be a bitch and take care of your fucking business.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
been quite some time
How I kept from screaming myself hoarse I'll never know. The scene was a classic in sports stories. The small town team, having faced the league team only once and in enemy territory, now finds themselves on the night of the rematch, at home. That first meeting found our team facing defeat and a severely mismatched final score. So many things seem to be working against a win for the home side tonight, from memories of the last time to the fact that several skaters and support staff have found themselves running extremely late due to some absurdly heavy traffic for our town on a Saturday evening.
The scene is Hard Knox Roller Girls facing off against Huntsville Alabama's Dixie Derby Girls. The first bout between these teams was an absolute battle that saw an HKRG jammer taken out in the first period. Our side represented themselves well that night, making us proud even as they went down to the Dixie Derby Girls.
Saturday was our night to welcome DDG to our house. I was fortunate enough to witness one of the greatest nights of flat track roller derby I've seen yet.
Hard Knox grabbed an early lead in the first period, seeming to have put a comfortable space between themselves and Huntsville. The second period saw Huntsville begin to chip away at that lead. The third period was an absolute fever of all out derby, neither team able to maintain the advantage for very long.
The final jam began with less than two minutes on the official clock meaning that there would be no lead jammer, and the jam would last the full two minutes. As the whistle sounded to start the jam, Huntsville was ahead with 98 points to Knoxville's 94. The next two minutes were a flurry of teamwork as Hard Knox came together to win themselves a jam score of 12 to 2 and a win over DDG, final score 106-100. Our jammer was pure speed as our blockers kept a clear lane open using every tool from hard hits to timely whips.
I can't say enough about the people that came together this night. The fans were amazing, and they make everyone do their job better when they show up and have fun. Huntsville brought a ref, an amazing and charming young lady we've had the pleasure of working with before. A fine pair of gentlemen drove all the way across our state from Memphis to help our refs as well. All of the refs did an amazing job calling the bout. Dixie Derby Girls brought our town one hell of a bout and, we hope, the promise of more to come.
The scene is Hard Knox Roller Girls facing off against Huntsville Alabama's Dixie Derby Girls. The first bout between these teams was an absolute battle that saw an HKRG jammer taken out in the first period. Our side represented themselves well that night, making us proud even as they went down to the Dixie Derby Girls.
Saturday was our night to welcome DDG to our house. I was fortunate enough to witness one of the greatest nights of flat track roller derby I've seen yet.
Hard Knox grabbed an early lead in the first period, seeming to have put a comfortable space between themselves and Huntsville. The second period saw Huntsville begin to chip away at that lead. The third period was an absolute fever of all out derby, neither team able to maintain the advantage for very long.
The final jam began with less than two minutes on the official clock meaning that there would be no lead jammer, and the jam would last the full two minutes. As the whistle sounded to start the jam, Huntsville was ahead with 98 points to Knoxville's 94. The next two minutes were a flurry of teamwork as Hard Knox came together to win themselves a jam score of 12 to 2 and a win over DDG, final score 106-100. Our jammer was pure speed as our blockers kept a clear lane open using every tool from hard hits to timely whips.
I can't say enough about the people that came together this night. The fans were amazing, and they make everyone do their job better when they show up and have fun. Huntsville brought a ref, an amazing and charming young lady we've had the pleasure of working with before. A fine pair of gentlemen drove all the way across our state from Memphis to help our refs as well. All of the refs did an amazing job calling the bout. Dixie Derby Girls brought our town one hell of a bout and, we hope, the promise of more to come.
Monday, November 12, 2007
not surprised
| You Are a Losing Lottery Ticket! |
 Full of hope and promise. But in the end, a cheap letdown. |
I feel like a losing lottery ticket sometimes, whatever that means.
Hat tip to Christine for this one.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
suh-weet
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
- fuck (3x)
- asshole (2x)
- ass (1x)
So this is why I can't win the award I'm not mentioning. I'm rated R, though I suspect if they'd dug a little deeper into my past posts I would have gotten whatever comes after R. Maybe not, and maybe I care.
Either way, thanks to Lynn of Bore Me To Tears, who only got a PG, nyah-nyah!
Monday, November 05, 2007
award
I'm not going to post about John and Deb Lillywhite's homeschool blog award extravaganza, but in protest, I will begin my own blog award. It's not for just anyone, but if you've mentioned homeschooling or had reason for the word to enter your vocabulary in even one instance or if you or someone you know just happens to have a blog, you are more than welcome to give it a shot.
I'm sure this whole thing will backfire somehow, and I'll come out in the end looking like a giant cunt, but I propose that I'm most likely to be able to award blog awards. I am now hereby opening up my blog awards to nominations. This is the kickoff for my thumbs up award.
The rules and criteria are all about me and my perception of sucking and not sucking. If I don't think something sucks and some other restrictions and requirements to be determined along the way, you just might win this thing that will take up valuable page space on your blog but will also indicate that you don't suck in my opinion. That will soon be more important than anything else you can come up with, so give it a try before it all goes to shit and I make someone cry.
This post courtesy of the homeschool blog awards to whom I won't bother linking. Wondering what the fuss is about? Visit Doc. She automatically and without the need for deliberation gets a thumbs up award if she wants it.
I'm sure this whole thing will backfire somehow, and I'll come out in the end looking like a giant cunt, but I propose that I'm most likely to be able to award blog awards. I am now hereby opening up my blog awards to nominations. This is the kickoff for my thumbs up award.The rules and criteria are all about me and my perception of sucking and not sucking. If I don't think something sucks and some other restrictions and requirements to be determined along the way, you just might win this thing that will take up valuable page space on your blog but will also indicate that you don't suck in my opinion. That will soon be more important than anything else you can come up with, so give it a try before it all goes to shit and I make someone cry.
This post courtesy of the homeschool blog awards to whom I won't bother linking. Wondering what the fuss is about? Visit Doc. She automatically and without the need for deliberation gets a thumbs up award if she wants it.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
more random than not
I actually let myself believe today. The Boy, having taken his Hallowe'en candy into the living room to sort through and pick a piece, continued to cradle the plastic cauldron full of candy and was caught a very few minute later having had a second piece. I almost took the cauldron away then and even asked him to bring it to the kitchen. He told me he wanted to keep it with him on the sofa because he wanted, "to keep it company." I couldn't possibly take it away then and warned him yet again against eating more candy. I was cooking supper, and it's hard enough to get healthy food in him without him having taken up valuable hunger with empty calories and sugar. And yes he had the third piece of candy as well.
On the upside, the part of his supper that was healthy vegetables disappeared entirely while the meaty, cheesy other part sits cold and uneaten on the table. And that reminds me that I've let those two bowls sit on the table for way too long. I was intending to have the boys carry their own dishes into the kitchen, but having continued to forget to do so has allowed me to completely forget to do it myself.
I find myself looking forward to tomorrow which is Saturday, the soonest anyone reading this would read it, so perhaps today for you. Either way, the crappy story to follow doesn't suck less because I'm more accurate with my wording from your point of view. And to make matters worse it isn't tomorrow so much as that there's no soccer to get up early for.
That shouldn't be a sad story after eight weeks of Saturdays beginning at eight in the morning. And it's not the soccer because I have so much fun on those sixteen Saturdays a year. The sad part is that spring and fall soccer season are the only time I regularly have to get up at any point on any day. That it's a Saturday shouldn't really come into play, but for some reason it does.
I hate getting up. I hate being told I have to get up more than anything. I actually find, as I'm in those first moments of dopey near consciousness, the dark time when I'm aren't quite thinking right, loathing everything around that could possibly have had to do with my having to be awake. As I finally get honestly awake, I get over it, and then I get to the fields and see the kids and it's WHEE HOO, soccer time! So it's worth it, but that first little moment of the morning . . .
And there you have it. Two stories in one. Each equally having taken minutes you'll never get back. Lessons? Don't listen to a four year old saying he won't eat any of the candy he has lovingly cradled in his arms. Don't wake me up! Ever! or better yet, if for some reason you have to, ignore me for at least fifteen minutes and give me coffee. For fuck sake don't ever underestimate the power of a cup of coffee, preferably a dark roast and straight out of the French press.
On the upside, the part of his supper that was healthy vegetables disappeared entirely while the meaty, cheesy other part sits cold and uneaten on the table. And that reminds me that I've let those two bowls sit on the table for way too long. I was intending to have the boys carry their own dishes into the kitchen, but having continued to forget to do so has allowed me to completely forget to do it myself.
I find myself looking forward to tomorrow which is Saturday, the soonest anyone reading this would read it, so perhaps today for you. Either way, the crappy story to follow doesn't suck less because I'm more accurate with my wording from your point of view. And to make matters worse it isn't tomorrow so much as that there's no soccer to get up early for.
That shouldn't be a sad story after eight weeks of Saturdays beginning at eight in the morning. And it's not the soccer because I have so much fun on those sixteen Saturdays a year. The sad part is that spring and fall soccer season are the only time I regularly have to get up at any point on any day. That it's a Saturday shouldn't really come into play, but for some reason it does.
I hate getting up. I hate being told I have to get up more than anything. I actually find, as I'm in those first moments of dopey near consciousness, the dark time when I'm aren't quite thinking right, loathing everything around that could possibly have had to do with my having to be awake. As I finally get honestly awake, I get over it, and then I get to the fields and see the kids and it's WHEE HOO, soccer time! So it's worth it, but that first little moment of the morning . . .
And there you have it. Two stories in one. Each equally having taken minutes you'll never get back. Lessons? Don't listen to a four year old saying he won't eat any of the candy he has lovingly cradled in his arms. Don't wake me up! Ever! or better yet, if for some reason you have to, ignore me for at least fifteen minutes and give me coffee. For fuck sake don't ever underestimate the power of a cup of coffee, preferably a dark roast and straight out of the French press.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
freakin' sweet
Here's a heartwarming story that I've intended to post for around a week. I've had the window minimized at the bottom of my screen since then and have successfully and accidentally ignored it this whole time.
Hat tip Good As You. A high school in Davis California has elected two homecoming princes from their junior class, a darling young gay couple, and boys at that. They were elected by their classmates.
I don't really get a lot of warm, fuzzy feelings, for what it's worth, but every time I think of this it's like a brand new warm, fuzzy all over again. It really is 2007, and maybe, just maybe, that whole infernal equality thing is not so elusive after all.
Hat tip Good As You. A high school in Davis California has elected two homecoming princes from their junior class, a darling young gay couple, and boys at that. They were elected by their classmates.
I don't really get a lot of warm, fuzzy feelings, for what it's worth, but every time I think of this it's like a brand new warm, fuzzy all over again. It really is 2007, and maybe, just maybe, that whole infernal equality thing is not so elusive after all.
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