Speak up, sonny boy, my hearing aid's not working

I kidsat tonight for my usual charge, the Kid (who is now six years old. SIX!!), and his best friend, who is four. Around 8:30 I got the boys settled down on the futon on either side of me and let them take turns choosing from a big pile of storybooks. At one point, the Friend piped up, "How old are you?"

VBG:  I'm 27.

Friend:  By the time I'm your age, you'll be dead!

VBG:  I hope not. I'll be 50, the same age as the Kid's dad.

Friend:  When I'm your age, you'll be old!


Knock it off, kid, or I'll bop you with my cane.

Lullaby

I babysat for Macduff again tonight, and when it came time to give him his good-night bottle, the batteries in his trusty singing Glow Worm weren't up to the task. I can't carry a tune in a bucket, but I figured Macduff is too young to tell the difference and I was determined to lull him to sleep, so I sang him the lullabies I remember from my own childhood.

I don't know how common they are, because to be honest my mother is the only person I've ever heard sing any of them to a child. I remember her singing "The Ants Go Marching" and "Hush Little Baby," though I'm not sure if the lyrics were standard or if she made them up. Apparently my two favorites are an old African spiritual and a Peter, Paul, and Mary song. Go figure.

Mom's version of "Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore" was a bit different:



Michael, row your boat ashore, hallelujah
Michael, row your boat ashore, hallelujah

Brother, lend a helping hand, hallelujah
Brother, lend a helping hand, hallelujah

Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah

The River Jordan is chilly and wide, hallelujah
Milk and honey on the other side, hallelujah

Michael, row your boat ashore, hallelujah
Michael, row your boat ashore, hallelujah


And her version of "Five Hundred Miles" was missing the second verse:



If you miss the train I'm on
You will know that I am gone
You will hear the whistle blow
Five hundred miles

Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two
Lord I'm three, Lord I'm four
Lord I'm five hundred miles away from home


Even for such a poor singer as myself, there's something bone-deep and right about singing a lullaby to a baby. It's easy to imagine humans across all times, all cultures, doing just the same thing. What are your favorite lullabies or songs you remember someone singing to you and still love?



Reading:  Larry and the Meaning of Life by Janet Tashjian

Playing:  Gregory Alan Isakov, via my dear Heather Feather

And the top of his head smelled delicious

About a month ago, maybe two, J-Dog asked me sort of out of the blue how I know that I want kids. I tried to answer her as best I could. I told her that I love MB so much that it makes me curious to see what kind of kid we can make together (God and nature willing, of course). I told her how I'd always felt comfortable around kids and always just sort of figured I'd have one someday. I don't know if she was satisfied with my answer, and I have to admit it wasn't much above a very lame "I just know."

Tonight I hung out with Macduff after work so that Teacher Incognito could get some grading done. Macduff started getting sleepy and fussy around 7:30, so T.I. fixed him a bottle and he and I retreated to the rocking chair. Before long, he was sound asleep, his multi-megawatt BabyFurnace going full blast. I had brought a scarf-in-progress along for just this eventuality, and so we sat there in the dim living room for quite awhile, me knitting carefully and him sleeping with his soft little head in the crook of my arm.

It reminded me of J-Dog's question, and here's the truth:  sometimes every cell of you just knows.

Swag

I keep planning to write about my trip, or about the things I found when I cleaned out the fridge the other night, but instead it's going to be another photo post.

I went out with Evilducky and Teacher Incognito this evening, and scored some pretty sweet deals.

At Target, I almost bought Indy a set of black and red lamé bat wings, but decided to hold out. I couldn't find a picture of them online, but saw these two costumes, one bizarre and one ridiculously awesome:


I dunno...I think I'll hold out for an Indiana Jones fedora.

I did buy this miniature working trebuchet, a steal at only $4.99:


I'm going to give it to my officemate, who was thinking about building a pumpkin catapult for Halloween for work, but didn't have time over the summer to get it approved and budgeted. I'm holding out hope that he'll go for it next year. And how awesome is my job that when my officemate said, "I want to build a pumpkin catapult" our supervisor said, "Go for it"?

After Macduff decided he'd had enough shopping for one night and headed off for home with his mama incognito, Evilducky and I went to Kohl's to check out the clearance selection.

I got these super cute shoes:



I got a few super early Christmas gifts for people, but since the people in question read this blog, I can't tell you what I got. Pretty good stuff, though!

And then, since we have actually and finally chosen the date after which we will no longer be preventing / will begin trying for kidlets (No, I'm not saying when. No, it's not this year), I bought some very cute baby outfits:


(These are a bit confusing to me. The one on the left is marked 18 months and the one on the right is marked 9 months. I don't mean to cast aspersions on the fine folks at Carter's who made both outfits, but they look about the same size to me.)

I also got some cute (cheap, cheap) stuff at an outlet mall on my way back from my vacation, so if you want to see more spawn clothes, click the photo below. Otherwise, consider yourself spared. And tomorrow, I'll try extra hard to save time to write about the fridge.




Reading:  Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, The Used World by Haven Kimmel

Playing:  an embarrassingly cheesy mix of songs from my childhood

At least he's honest

The scene:  building Lego Star Wars ships for a pending battle with the little boy I kidsit

Kid:  You need to take some of the guns off your ship. You have three and I only have two.

VBG:  Yeah, but you have seven guys and I only have one. If you also have more weapons, that won't be a fair fight.

Kid:  I don't want it to be a fair fight.



Reading:  Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen

Playing:  Disc One:  All Their Greatest Hits by Barenaked Ladies (Seeing them in concert tomorrow night! Squee!)

Holiday weekend snapshots

On Thursday, Danger and I went on our annual canoe trip on the Blue River. The weather was absolutely perfect, and we spent most of the day out of sight and earshot of other boats. Even though the 12 mile trip was a little shorter than we would've preferred, we had a wonderful time.


On Friday night I kidsat for the first time in quite a while. The Kid is still into Star Wars, being outside, and these days, Scooby Doo. We played outside, ate supper while watching two episodes of Scoob, and then read books. For the first time, he let me win a Star Wars battle. We were "fighting" with ships built from Star Wars Legos (seriously, seriously cool), and he crashed his ship into the side of the kitchen cabinet on purpose.

VBG:  Oh, no! You crashed!

Kid:  I did it so you could win.

VBG:  That was nice.

Kid:  Not for me.

VBG:  Well, it was nice of you to let me win.

Seriously, though, I have NEVER been allowed to win a single lightsaber battle or blaster battle or spaceship battle. Progress!

And then he actually fell asleep in his bed before his parents got home, for the first time. Woot!




After a week of worsening shin pain, I turned to the runners on my message board for advice on how to keep walking Indy every day without hobbling like a grandma. "Shin splints!" they cried. "New shoes! Hurry!" Being cheap and broke, I really hoped they were wrong, but I also know the difference between the "no pain no gain" kind of pain and the "system failure imminent" kind. On Saturday morning, MB and I took Indy on a little outing--hippie pet store, Petsmart, and Sonic (Indy had a chili cheese coney with no chili, no cheese, and no bun). The pup thus worn out and safely tucked into his new and much bigger crate for a nap (because he's up to 41 pounds now. FORTY ONE!), we set out for the specialty running store in town. Maybe fifteen minutes later we walked out, each wearing the most expensive shoes we've ever owned.


(I have to admit, the shoes are pretty magical. I gave Indy three separate walks yesterday, and felt nary a twinge from my shins.)

Saturday night, the gang got together to celebrate Danger's birthday with super delicious strawberry-topped cake, super adorable Baby Incognito, a round of Apples to Apples and a crazy game of blended Munchkin:

Munchkin + two Munchkin expansions + Munchkin Fu and one expansion
+ Munchkin Bites + Munchkin Cthulhu + Munchkin Blender


To read about what we did Sunday, check out the garden blog.


For fun, Indy's new toy:


new toy from velocibadgergirl on Vimeo.


So, how about you? Do anything fun for the holiday weekend?


P.S. Does anybody post on Twitter? I still don't quite get it, but I'm interested in finding more people to follow.


Reading:  Certain Girls by Jennifer Weiner

Playing:  Pearl Jam radio on Pandora

And the world was changed

Baby Incognito arrived on Mother's Day, after pretending he'd wait around until his scheduled induction on Tuesday. Evilducky and I went to visit him (and his parents, of course) at the hospital this evening. It seems like we were just in high school a few months ago, instead of nearly ten years ago. How is it possible that one of us has a baby? Ack! And yet, somehow, the timing is perfect.

Welcome to the world, little one! Your aunties are so very glad to meet you!

Completely, totally, and utterly busted

Today the Cheesefairy posted a funny story about her kid outing his daycare provider and her habit of letting him watch TV.

It reminded me of one of my favorite kid stories of all time.

My aunt Pony has always watched my cousin Amethyst's kids, starting when Amethyst's first daughter, Custard*, was a baby. Amethyst preferred that Custard not have things like TV or fast food, but Grandma Pony had other ideas. Ideas which she kept secret from Amethyst. Or so she thought.

You see, one day Amethyst was in a hurry, so when she got to the bank, she decided that instead of taking Custard inside with her, she'd just go through the drive-up window. As she loaded her deposit into the little vacuum tube and greeted the teller, a small voice piped up from the backseat:  "Fries, please."



Reading:  The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory

Playing:  Pressure Chief by Cake



*not their real names, obviously

Your life is an occasion. Rise to it.

I kidsit on a semi-regular basis for a little boy who is the son of my advisor from college. Between my busy schedule and theirs, I usually only see him once a month, and sometimes less than that. He is a sweet, intelligent, imaginative, and wonderfully curious child who I sometimes wish I could ask to have a little chat with my ovaries so that my kids turn out as cool as him. I'm only slightly biased, of course, having been nearly his only kidsitter since he was about 18 months old. He's five now, only just; his birthday was on November 17th.

The Kid and his parents and MB and I were all at the same holiday party on Monday night, and his mom mentioned in passing to someone else that she and the Kid's dad both had separate meetings to go to the following evening, and that their plans for the Kid had fallen through. Because I'm one of those people who always has to be helpful, no matter what (I'm working on it), I offered to shuffle my Tuesday night plans around a little and watch the Kid. When I got home, I had a brainwave. The restaurant where I was supposed to meet some coworkers around 6 is about 100 yards away from a movie theater, so I checked to see what movies were playing around 6:30 or so. I figured this would provide a fun activity for me and the Kid, and would spare me the drive out to his house in the country. I emailed his mom, and she asked the Kid what he thought, and he reportedly said, "YES I WANT TO GO TO A MOVIE WITH VELOCIBADGERGIRL!" Hee!

We agreed that the Kid's dad would drop him off at the theater at 6:30, we'd share popcorn and a drink that wasn't soda and watch Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, and then the Kid's mom would meet us after the movie. I'm not too proud to say that I was really excited about our big date. I got to the theater right on time, and purchased our tickets after the Kid's dad called to let me know they were running just a little late. They arrived shortly after, and you guys? HE WAS WEARING A TIE. A very small striped tie, and a blue dress shirt. When I exclaimed with glee over this, his dad said, "Well, it is a date!" Then, mock-stern, he told the Kid, "Now remember, buddy, when the lights go out, it's hands off." Brandishing my left hand, I said, "Yeah, I'm a married woman!"

The Kid and I purchased our popcorn and drinks (bottled water for me, Hi-C fruit punch for him) and then headed for theater #4. The Kid announced that he could find the theater for us. Four, after all, was the number he used to be, though not the number he is now. We were exactly on time (the opening credits were rolling as we took our seats), and I think the manager was wondering if anyone was coming to the movie after all (we were the only ones to purchase tickets). The manager, a cute boy in a suit who couldn't have been much older than 20, did that quiet, breathing-out laugh that people do when a child is doing something really cute but they don't want the child to know they're laughing as we approached--the Kid tiny and blond and be-tied and announcing, "This is four! I'm not four anymore, I'm five!"

The movie wasn't the best film I've ever seen. It wasn't even the best children's movie I've seen lately, but I really did enjoy it. There's something about sharing even mundane activities with a child that can make those activities vastly more entertaining or amusing or interesting than they would be if you did them by yourself, I think. I sat there and I let the Kid's wonder wash over me, and instead of thinking snarky thoughts over whether or not Dustin Hoffman was doing a decent job or dissecting the plot or wondering about what time it was, I just opened myself up to the movie and let myself be entertained. There were even a few scenes that made me exclaim with joy, I have to admit. No disrespect to MB, but this was a great date. The Kid and I sat in our chairs and just enjoyed the movie, shoveling popcorn into our mouths and laughing at the silly parts, and occasionally discussing the finer points of the storyline.

After the show, we sat in the lobby for a few minutes waiting for his mom. There were two teenage employees nearby, but other than that, the theater seemed deserted. A few years ago, I would've been too self-conscious to act goofy around those teenage boys, but this time, the Kid and I talked about Star Wars and I imitated a TIE fighter (complete with elaborate hand gestures and pyew! pyew! shooting sound effects) and we talked about how I would not wish to fight a bad guy with four arms and four lightsabers, though we established that I might be able to outrun him if he only had two legs. When his mom arrived, the Kid was eager to act out his favorite scene from the movie, and then it was time for us to head home, with a promise that we'd try to get together again sometime before Christmas to play.

Driving home, I found myself remembering how hard it was for me to get into character and play pretend with the Kid when I first started sitting for him. I had been a ridiculously imaginative child, but hadn't really done much pretending since I was about 13 or so, and it wasn't easy at first. That has changed, thanks to him. In a way, I think we learned to imagine together, and I'm grateful to think of how easy it will be for me to play my parts with my own kids, when the time comes. It's true that sometimes being around kids can make adults feel old. But sometimes, being around them can remind us what it's like to be young and filled with wonder, and that is truly a gift, if we can just remember to hold out our hands and accept it.

Wait, did our mothers put you up to this?

The Scene:  MB and I are at our neighbors' (R & his wife J), watching the Colts-Patriots game. We're sitting side-by-side on the couch, and R & J's two daughters, ages 3 and 5, are sitting on / with me.

Three, examining my ears:  What are these? Are these earrings?

Me:  Yep, those are earrings.

Three:  Why do you have earrings in your ears?

Me:  Uh...because I do? Doesn't Mommy have earrings? No, I guess not.

Three:  Mommy has an earring in her nose.

J:  *laughs, points to her nose stud*

Me:  Oh, yeah. I guess she does.

Three:  Do you have an earring in your nose?

Me:  Nope.

Three, pointing at MB:  Are you his wife?

Me:  Yes, I am.

Three, pointing to my hand:  Cuz that's your wedding ring?

Me:  Yep.

Three:  Did you get married?

Me:  Yes, I did.

Three:  Do you have a baby?

Me:  Uh...no.



The Scene:  a few hours later, same couch

Five, wisely:  When people get married, they have babies.

Me:  Um...eventually?

True Friendship, Defined

True friendship is loving someone enough to go out to the mall and scour the clearance racks, then try on and purchase various long-line tank tops for her to layer under her work shirts, so that she can avoid the dreaded strip of exposed tummy / back skin that happens when your pants migrate south and your shirt heads north, while--most importantly--allowing her to avoid shopping, her one True Hate in the world. Luckily, I am the clearance champion, and I also do well when I have a mission to motivate me. Besides, Danger? She's a friend worth trying on clothes for...and that's saying something. She stopped by after work and tried on all the shirts, and all but two were good finds. Hooray! Next mission:  find a decent and flattering bridesmaid's dress for her by April. Something tells me I'm the right operative for the job. Danger, if you ever become a massage therapist for the stars, please consider me when choosing a personal stylist. I think I'd be up for the challenge. ;)


More Clearance Champion-ness (for the divine Miss M)

While I was out working on completing the mission of mercy yesterday, I hit the clearance racks at Kohl's again, for what will probably be the last time for a long time. I need to stop spending money on spawn clothes. The last hurrah:

Space jammies? SQUEE! MB wants to do a space-themed nursery when the time comes, so I pretty much had to get these. Size 3T, large white cat for scale.

Mental image of a small badgerchild toddling about in a hoodie bearing MB's favorite comic book character of all time? Priceless! Okay, not really. But worth $9.60. (ABSURD, since I won't pay that much for a shirt for myself.)


I also got two pairs of work pants for myself ($9.50 and $5.50) and two pairs of cute, cute corduroy cargo pants for $5.99 each.


In the clearance section at Hot Topic, I got this hilarious hat for R, because I knew he'd appreciate the hilarity (and he did):




I got this pretty wallet / pouch thing for my sister, and then promptly forgot all about it when I went to meet her for dinner two hours later:



And I found this somewhat sweet-ass shirt for ten bucks for MB, who's currently really into all things samurai:

(Except I'm an idiot and didn't realize until JUST NOW that the samurai has a guitar. Hmm...oops. That would explain why he wasn't as excited about it as I expected. I think I'll offer to return it, just in case. Damn.)



Reading: In Her Shoes by Jennifer Weiner

Clotheshorse Whore

Before I start yammering on about shallow, materialistic stuff, I need to announce that the furnace has been fixed. It seems that the pilot light went out. I somehow didn't think of that, even though I should've. Even if I had, though, I really don't think I'd have been willing to try lighting it on my own. That's just sort of serious and scary, as far as I'm concerned. I'd rather have someone watching me and ready to snatch the flame-device from my hand the first time I do that, you know?

The hilariously odd maintenance man showed up around 8:30 this morning. I was wearing two pairs of socks, a pair of corduroys over flannel pj pants, my hoodie and MB's hoodie over a T-shirt, and a knitted bobble hat. Fashionista! When I opened the door, the guy said, "So your heat's ou--oh. Yeah." He relit the pilot light and did something with a 'thermal coupling' and now all is roasty toasty in Casa de Velocibadger once more.


From this point on, if you're sick of hearing me yap about clearance rack banditry and baby stuff, you might want to go make a snack and come back tomorrow. I'll probably post something with actual merit then. For now, clearance clothes and baby stuff. Sorry.

I had a fantastic girls' night out with the bibliophile, evilducky, and Teacher Incognito. We ate at Olive Garden, since I was apparently the last person on Earth who'd never eaten there. Then, we hit the sales racks at Kohl's, and man was it sweet.

I got a kickass pair of brown cords and a really cute thermal:


The thermal kind of makes the pants look gargantuan, but it's just my crappy photography skillz. Here's a better shot of the supercute top:




Then, since FIVE of the internet board girls are now pregnant (congrats, Spence!), I hit the baby racks to try to find some good gift ideas. While I was over there, I looked in baby clearance, and found the following things worthy of stockpiling for future spawn:

After Kohl's, we went to Target. I got sucked into the vortex and ended up dropping $70. Yikes. But I scored this awesome shirt for $2.50:



I love it, because it reminds me of Picasso's Old Guitarist. MB (notoriously picky) not only likes it, but said it reminds him of Kat Von D from Miami Ink. Dude, I'm going to wear it every day if it renders me reminiscent of Kat. I totally heart her. (And I don't care what MB says--I still think she's hot.)


I should post something that's not completely materialistic and fluffy, but I still have to take a shower and I promised MB that I'd clean off the table before I go to bed. When I do projects, I tend to take over all available space, and I spent today working on a big photo project, so here's what's left behind:


That is one day worth of mess. Scary, huh? I promise I'll try to write something with some actual worth tomorrow. xoxo

We Got Game

It feels very strange to not blog every day or every other day. (Thanks, NaBloPoMo, for warping my standards forever.)

I spent Friday evening helping Brownie Girl Scouts paint T-shirts for their Art to Wear patch. Since the workshop was at the nature preserve, they got to use animal track and leaf stamps to decorate their shirts. One girl wrote, "I was trampled by animals!" at the bottom of her track-covered garment. Another used only leaves in brown paint. She was very meticulous, and her shirt looked wonderful. She concocted a story about walking through the woods, only to come upon a vicious leaf pile that opened up like a mouth, swallowed her whole, and then spit her out again when she didn't taste so good. Shades of Calvin & Hobbes and the carnivorous leaf pile, yes? I loved it.

At the end of the night, I was more or less adopted by two tiny girls who wanted me to be their guardian for the campfire. One of the girls was afraid of the dark, afraid of fire, didn't like hot chocolate, didn't like marshmallows, and was afraid a vampire would get her. I convinced her to eat her S'more with no marshmallow (she admitted it was good), drink lemonade instead of hot cocoa (even though the poor little thing shivered so hard she nearly spilled her cup), and walk to the fire ring with me, even though she wouldn't get near enough to feel the warmth. I counted a victory that she went out and seemed to have an okay time, even though we only stayed out for about five minutes before we gave up and went back inside where it was warm. When her dad arrived to pick her up, she told him about meeting the nature preserve's docent barn owl. She may not have liked the campfire, but something tells me she's going to remember the evening's other adventures.



On Saturday night, MB and I hosted the 8th annual Groundhog Day Party, which was concocted by the bibliophile when we started college, and which she and I have traded off hosting every year since. Last year, she did a Hawaiian theme, after we selected a luau themed groundhog photo for our invitation.

This year's invitation looked like this:



We didn't really do a theme, but here's a photo of our featured snack:


(Immense amounts of cool points to anyone who wasn't at the party who gets the joke.)

It was a smaller crowd than usual, but seemed to be one of the better parties of late. We ate our weights in too-sugary snacks while we played Taboo, Apples to Apples (LOVE!!), Scattergories (highlight:  two teams coming up with the phrase "donkey dong" for two different entries during the same round, completely independent of each other, even though that phrase does not make a regular appearance in anyone's lexicon), and then modified Pictionary. Being a geek fucking rocks, especially when you know lots of other awesome geeks to hang out with. The last partygoers left at 4:30 AM, so MB and I spent most of Sunday sleeping it off. We finally got up around mid-afternoon and ended up going to the grocery to round out our big eventful day. Party animals, that's us.



Reading: Playing the Moldovans at Tennis by Tony Hawks


Just Finished: The Secret Lives of Men and Women, the latest PostSecret book


Playing: Led Zeppelin on shuffle on the mpMonster

Stuck in the middle with you

As I've mentioned before, I belong to a smallish, close-knit message board. I consider the women on the board to be good friends, and since we talk online, I usually talk to them a lot more than I talk to my geographically-present friends. We all met on a wedding planning board, so most of us were married within a few years of each other. I was, I think, fourth-to-last or fifth-to-last to get married. A lot of the girls are a few years older than me, and some are almost five years older than I am. Many of them already have kids, and several have little bitty kids, born in the last two years. Now, four (four!!) of them are pregnant. I am utterly thrilled for all of them, and I'm loving every minute of celebrating their pregnancies and looking forward to welcoming their babies into our quirky extended family group.

But I'm also sort of sad, because by the time MB and I are ready to have children, most of my online friends' kids will be in Kindergarten. I fear that no one will be left to be my "pregnancy buddy," that everyone will be totally over diapers and teething and first steps, and that I'll be left behind, yelling "Hey, wait for me!" just like I am now. All the bloggers I read who have babies and small children will be leaps and bounds away from me, and I'll be running to catch up, always. While I'm not exactly jealous of my friends who are buying houses and having babies and bonding through motherhood, it does make me feel like the last kid left on the playground sometimes, yelling after them to wait, to come back and go down the tallest slide with me one last time.


And then, there's the other side of my friend-sphere. My "real-life" friends, the ones I live near and hang out with frequently. About half of the people in my somewhat largeish group of close friends are married. Of the married folk, one couple is actively seeking to expand their family, and one couple is thinking about doing so soon. The rest are adamantly no-kids-please. The singles are not in any hurry to become un-single, and also have no plans (that I know of) to have kids. So among my friends, I'm one of the weird ones, because I actually think about and talk about and read about and want babies. Not all the time, mind you. I'm not baby crazy, and I don't go on about it all the time (at least, I don't think so). I can't gush about babies to my friends, because it's somewhat clear they think it's boring or weird or at least uninteresting. They smile those "isn't she cute" smiles and say things like, "You and your mommy blogs" and I wonder if they'll find me boring and trite and as dismissible in their eyes as the other "mommy bloggers" when I have kids. I hope not, and I don't really think so, but who knows? I wonder sometimes if they look at me like I look at my online friends. To them, am I the one running off toward a different kind of reality, leaving them behind? Am I always going to be stuck in the middle, left behind and yet running ahead?

Lost: Boring life, early bedtimes. Reward if found.

Over the past year or so, my life has become pretty calm and uneventful. After several years of nearly non-stop activity, it's been kind of nice, even if it does sort of make me feel like an old lady / homebody. Lately, though, the old ways have been back, and I've barely had any nights to sit on my butt in front of the TV and go to bed early. It's been pretty cool, even though I keep wondering why I haven't got around to reading emails or made more progress with my stack of library books. Or, you know, done any yoga since January farking 19th.

I thought I'd spend tonight sitting around doing not much of anything, but then an online conversation with my sister yesterday afternoon resulted in she and me and MB going out for dinner after she got out of class this evening, followed by a trip to the mall (sans MB). It was a lot of fun, and I scored some pretty sweet deals at Old Navy, which I predict will be my new favorite place to go and haunt the clearance section.

Since it's pretty clear now that I'll never get my hands on the green flower print shirt that I so covet, I consoled myself by buying a pink one:



I got a few more shirts, a great pair of black cords (which I'm sure will be entirely covered with cat hair as soon as I get them out of the dryer), and what may be the cutest damn hat ever made (modeled by the smooshy tan bear who lives in our closet):

(check out our rockin' green 70s kitchen chairs!)

Because I'm an impossible dork, I bought two sets, one in toddler size and one in tee-niny size, so that theoretically one day MB and I will be able to put our two hoped-for spawn in matching semi-punk-rock zebra hats.



How cold is it?

Cold enough that Mr. Kitters--who loves to spend his evenings behind the curtains that hide the sliding door, watching for nocturnal wildlife to menace with his atomic glare--has resorted to desperate measures to escape the wicked draft. Tactics include snuggling on the couch and bogarting my side of the bed:






Reading: Plum Lovin' by Janet Evanovich

Playing: Farewell by Oingo Boingo

Closet bear says "Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta."

Dreams, Baby

I took a long nap this morning after MB went to work, and I dreamed that we had a baby son. He had big blue eyes and MB's dark, dark hair. I don't know how old the kid was supposed to be, but in the dream we were going to the grocery, and I needed to put a coat on the baby. It had been so warm that I hadn't put him in a coat in months, so we didn't have one that fit him. I opened our front closet, and the only coat we had was a size 0-3 months. Whoopsie.

I carried the baby around for most of the dream, and the whole thing was so realistic--his weight in my arms, the softness of his hair, that clean baby smell--that as I woke up I thought, "Well, shit. What did MB and I do with him last week when we went to the grocery without him?" and it was a few minutes before I realized we hadn't done anything with him, because he doesn't exist yet.

I told this to my friend S. at lunch today, and she asked--with a mischievous glint in her eye--"Are you sure you're not ready for kids?" I should've said, "Not when my dreams are telling me that I will forget to buy them coats."



Meanwhile, I am woman; hear me roar.

You are the World

Completion, Good Reward.

The World is the final card of the Major Arcana, and as such represents saturnian energies, time, and completion.

The World card pictures a dancer in a Yoni (sometimes made of laurel leaves). The Yoni symbolizes the great Mother, the cervix through which everything is born, and also the doorway to the next life after death. It is indicative of a complete circle. Everything is finally coming together, successfully and at last. You will get that Ph.D. you've been working for years to complete, graduate at long last, marry after a long engagement, or finish that huge project. This card is not for little ends, but for big ones, important ones, ones that come with well earned cheers and acknowledgements. Your hard work, knowledge, wisdom, patience, etc, will absolutely pay off; you've done everything right.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Props to Northwoods Baby for the quiz.



Reading: Round Ireland With a Fridge by Tony Hawks (remember, not the skateboarder)

Playing: mellow mixes on the computer

The gods wanted me to go to Goodwill.

I went out on the thrift store circuit today, in search of some items for a Secret Santa gift I'm putting together. While I was at my favorite Goodwill store, I decided to check and see if they had any shirts that I could get for work. I picked out about ten to try on and scored a dressing room right away. Sweet...usually you have to wait for 10 or 15 minutes. When I went in, I saw that someone had left jeans piled all over the bench. Nice, new-looking jeans. Mall-brand jeans. And they didn't look tiny. Barely daring to hope, I pawed through them, tossing aside the 4/5 pair and the size 6, and found a pair in the pile that fit like they were made for me. My one pair of jeans that still fits well is starting to get a little frayed, so finding another pair that fits = awesome. Especially since they cost $5. One of the shirts I tried on actually fit and looked decent. I poked around a bit more and ended up finding a pair of really nice black pants for work and a pair of carpenter jeans for MB. :D

Since the shoe section is near the jeans section, I gave the shelves a quick look, even though I never find shoes that fit my big wide Hobbit feet at resale shops. Never, that is, until today...behold, the $3 ballet flats of wonder!



Since I have a few friends who have kids and / or are pregnant, I poked through the baby clothes bin, too. I found a few outfits to send to a friend, and then I found a few things that I'm going to hang on to for future badger spawn, because they're just that cool:




As icing on the cake of a successful shopping trip, the clerk--who was totally the kind of girl I think I'd date if I dated girls--only charged me 10 cents for each baby item, and 30 cents for the adorable pair of rainboots I bought for someone whose initials are WXY (and whose mama appreciates a bargain, so I don't have to feel bad about revealing the Rainboot Miracle).


After I left Goodwill with my amazing haul, I went to one of my least favorite thrift stores. I chose it because of its proximity to Goodwill, and it turned out to be a lucky move. It's a really overpriced store, which is annoying, but they have piles and piles and piles of junk to dig through. The layout of the building is really weird. I don't know if it used to be a house or what, but you totally have to wind around through all these little rooms and hallways and more rooms. But there are no windows, which is really strange. It feels like a giant maze, and no matter how much cool stuff I find, I constantly find myself thinking about how if there's ever a fire in there, most people probably won't make it back through the maze in time. On especially claustrophobic days, I have to resist the urge to weave through the place while shrieking, "We're all going to die!"

I lucked out today in that not only was there not a fire, but I also stumbled across a whole row of baskets full of great items for the secret santa gift of mystery. I also found this wacky thing:


I don't know if it shows up well enough to tell, but it's this tiny, incredibly delicate woodcarving inside a shadow box. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it, but I couldn't pass it up.


Then I drove home and found my parking lot swarming with firefighters. There were three trucks plus the chief's car and maybe even a rescue truck. No one stopped me from taking my stuff and going inside, so I guess there wasn't any real danger, but it was kind of unnerving and interesting all at once. I unfortunately have no idea what happened, but it sure made for an interesting arrival.


And finally, with no further ado...it's evidence of a squirrel kegger gone way over the line!


Or maybe it's just a lampshade lying on the lawn.

This one time? At craft camp?

On Monday, my friend KWJ--the fabulous and newly-married--had a somewhat traumatic experience involving her very large dog innocently leaping up to follow some children and their mother out of a coffee shop. The mother was very understanding, thank goodness. Her story reminded me of something that happened to me last year, when I was still working at the craft store. It was one of those situations that could've been absolutely horrendous, but turned out blissfully okay thanks to someone else's common decency (and in this case, sense of humor).


The craft store had Saturday morning activities for kids, which I usually got to lead. One Saturday, this little boy, about 7, and his little sister came with their mom and grandmother. I didn't really know the kids...I think they'd only been in once before. Let's call the boy Max.

Max's glue bottle was clogged, so he asked me to fix it. I took it and was fiddling with it, and it just seemed slightly blocked. Usually, if given a good squeeze, that kind of glue bottle would just pop out the dried knot of glue and then work as normal. So I squeezed.

Can you see where this is going? Good, because I didn't.


I squeezed. Nothing happened. I squeezed a little more.

With no warning, the entire top of the glue bottle shot off and flew across the room. There was a smear of glue across the wall. There was glue on the floor. There was glue on the cabinet at the far end of the room.

There was also a long rope of glue ACROSS THE TOP OF MAX'S HEAD.

I'm going to steal one of my favorite MSN icons to illustrate the look on my face at that moment:




I burst out, "I am SO SORRY!"

Max, Max's mom, and Max's grandma sat there and sat there and sat there.

Time sort of stopped. I sort of died a little...

And then?

Then?


Max's mom started laughing her ass off.

I can only think of a few times in my life when I've ever been more relieved than I was in that moment. We had some really prissy ass people bring their kids to the Saturday activities over the year I worked there, people who would get absolutely nasty with me over stuff that was in no way my fault. There were also a lot of really cool parents. I'm grateful to this day that I squirted a cool mom's kid instead of a priss's kid. Because it was actually really not good, what I did...and even though it was a total accident, she would've been within her rights to be totally pissed off at me.

As he was leaving, Max said, "I can't believe I got squirted with glue!" but it was in one of those, "What a crazy story this will be!" kind of ways, not in an upset kind of way. I still think I adore Max a little for being such a good sport.

Also, I pledge to do my best to keep this story in mind when I have kids of my own, so I can be a cool mom and not freak out if something awkward but ultimately harmless and sort of hilarious happens to my kid. Pinkie swear.

2005-09-14 - 11:41 p.m.
You can't fly. Know why?

Cuz you're a penguin. That's why. You can't fly. Know why? Cuz you're still in your egg!

Or so I was told this evening by the absolutely 100% delightful child that I babysit. Logically, I know that the twos are still considered terrible. I'm sure this kid is capable of monstrous tantrums. But to me, he's this magnificently compact packet of energy and intelligence, and he just makes my heart sing. He used to scream for 45 minutes whenever I came over, but lately he only cries for a few minutes, if at all. Then we're off! We are firefighters, driving our pumper truck to the scene of a fire! ("I don't like the ladder truck," he says. "I like the pumper truck.") We are baby birds, in our eggs! We hatch, and then eat our eggs, which he has cooked for us. We are fixing a crane! (Also known as the back steps) We are playing baseball! We are eating popsicles! No...not popsicles. YOGURT POPS. We do NOT have to potty, no we DO NOT. Nope. Not one bit. Except we're dancing around a bit.

I hope when it's finally time for MB & I to have kids, that they're as cool as he is. Otherwise, I may have to fix the crane myself.


I posted this almost a year ago on my first, very briefly-used Diaryland site. I forgot all about it until the bibliophile mentioned that she'd always been fond of that entry. I kidsat for the same little boy last night, and it made me think of it again. He's nearly four years old now, and seems more of a boy than a baby every time I see him. I haven't been the babysitter since his third birthday, however, when he declared that since he was no longer a baby, he no longer had a babysitter. "Kidsitter," he said firmly. "I'm NOT a baby." He once overheard me say "This is the babysitter" on the phone, and yelled from the bathroom, "No! Kid! Not baby! Kid!"

Back when I first started sitting for him, he didn't really talk yet, and the words he did say were pretty much gibberish to me. Luckily his parents had taught him to sign some things, so he could tell me when he was hungry or thirsty, and we could talk about some animals and the moon. Oh, and his dad's Harley ("Hossey"). Now he talks a mile a minute, and I understand almost everything. He's constantly coming up with new ways to be amazing.

Last night, he was telling me about a plow he'd seen behind a tractor that was going down the road near his house (he lives in an old farmhouse surrounded by cropland and a dairy farm). As he described the plow, he held up his fingers in a weird position to show me what the teeth of the plow had looked like. That simple gesture, which would've been totally ordinary in an adult, seemed so extraordinary from someone whose clothes are still marked with a T for toddler.

During dinner, he demanded that I not sing along with the Simon & Garfunkel CD that his parents had left playing in the kitchen, but repeatedly requested that I "sing a song" or "tell a story." He told a few himself. I sang a song I learned at summer camp:


"Percy"

Way up north in the ice and snow
Where the temperature drops to forty below
Who's the happiest one up there? Percy the pale-faced polar bear.

Sleeps all day and then at night, catch a few fish by the pale moonlight
Has no worries, has no cares... Percy the pale-faced polar bear.

Then one day a hunter came, caught poor Percy by the snout.
Put him in a great big cage... Percy howled and he growled, but he couldn't get out!
Now he's living in the zoo... Funny thing is he likes it too.
'Cause he met his girlfriend there... And she loves Percy the pale-faced polar bear.

Who? Percy the pale-faced polar bear.

Except I changed "pale-faced" to "happy" when it became clear that the kid was trying to learn the song, and that he didn't know what "pale-faced" meant or how to say it. Good Lord, it was cute to see him, mouthing the words along with me as he listened with a very intent expression.



This all seems painfully familiar...

Earlier this evening, I went to avail myself of the toilet in the half bath and I heard a dripping noise that was not coming from me, if you know what I mean. It sounded like it was coming from the wall behind my head.

I decided to go into the full bath to see if I could hear it from that side, and I noticed that the carpet was squishy and wet in front of the bathroom door. Ummmm...

I called MB into the half-bath, then the full-bath, and he heard the drip, too. He went back to the living room, and I noticed a dripping sound IN the full bath. I looked up, and there were ominous bubbles in the ceiling with drips coming down the wall. UMMMM...

The landlord is supposed to send maintenance in the morning.

I went into our bedroom just now, and noticed a small bubble forming in the half bath ceiling. There must be a huge pool trapped between the upstairs neighbors' subfloor and our ceiling. We can hear it dripping down inside the walls, and it's dripping out of the pocket doors and seeping into the carpet. This sucks, though I guess it could be worse. It could be a giant puddle in the living room floor. This one developed slowly enough that we were able to move stuff out of the dampest areas before anything got ruined.

The last time there was a leak in the half-bath, I came home from work to find an inch and a half of standing water in the floor. The maintenance crew did a half-assed job shop-vaccing the carpet, and the apartment smelled asserific for nearly a week. I just hope the mildew smell doesn't come back.





Konichiwa

MB and I have chosen our Halloween costumes for this year (And probably the next three or four years, based on how much they'll cost when all is said and done):



The black fabric is for MB's kimono, and the blue is for mine:




My mom will be our seamstress, because she rules. She made my wedding dress which I absolutely loved, and which looked 100 times better than it does in this picture:



I'm looking forward to trying out a new Halloween look, though I'm still fond of my costume from the past two years:



I think the fairy costume is cute, like an Amy Brown fairy. MB, however, is not a fan, and calls it my "slutty pixie" outfit. Can't please everyone, I guess.



OMG. I love this.

"Angie in the Sky with Fleur Chons" (hilarious Project Runway recap). Props to Y at Joy Unexpected, from whom I lifted the linkage.



Reading: homework

Playing: Sounds of Silence by Simon & Garfunkel

I is for Ichthyosaur

"Is your baby a nerd? Of course not, there's no such thing as a nerd baby and everyone knows that labeling children is bad and wrong. But if you're a nerd or a geek or heaven forbid a chemical engineer, there's a good chance that your baby will grow up to be at least a little bit nerdy. I mean, the genetics are there.. so why fight it?"

http://www.tiffanyard.com/nerd.htm

I long for these. I lust after them. I may, in fact, need them.



Can't you picture these hanging on the wall in a playroom? Okay...in a playroom belonging to the offspring of a geologist and an engineer. A playroom that will probably be filled to the brim with really geeky educational toys.

At least our kids will be upholding a fine family tradition...I was going through some old photographs at my parents' house last Friday, and came across a picture from Christmas morning the year I was three. I was unwrapping some kind of toddler-appropriate construction set. How cool (but nerdy) is that?




My heart is happy.

After writing about the Christmas photo, I dug out the other pictures I brought back with me from the house. Here is one of my very favorite photos of all time:


The caption on the back, in my mom's handwriting, reads: "May 1983. Dad (32 yrs) & Velocibadgergirl (26 months) doing paperwork."

Every evening, my dad had to fill out paperwork for his job. I wonder how many times I insisted upon sitting beside my dad while he worked. I wonder if he remembers this night.




Reading: The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett

Playing: Drunken Lullabies and Within a Mile of Home by Flogging Molly