I set up my photoblog, called Clicking Away With My Sanity, today. If you like pictures, keep an eye on it and see if it strikes your fancy. I have a bunch more to post; it’s pretty sparse right now.
This guy drove a van that backfired on command. Then he’d take pictures of people reacting. Not nice, sure, but pretty funny.
From the fine people who brought you Napster BAD! comes “Sue All the World”. I giggled so hard my eyes leaked.
Last night Jo and I went grocery shopping.
“Mommy, which area is this?”
“This is the health food area.”
“Oh. So where’s the Oreo area?”
What a precocious little twerp.
I bought a Crenshaw melon, never having tried one before. It’s insanely tender and juicy. The knife slid through it like butter. Rivulets of sweet juice poured out while I cut it and dribbled off the counter onto the floor. Jo scolded me for letting all the juice out. I chopped half of the melon into bite-sized pieces and the kids followed me out of the kitchen like I was the Pied Piper. They each took two bites and split, and are now playing and refuse to come back to eat.
Those of you without children may wish to skip this next part, but I find it important to point out that Jo, who is three-and-a-half, pooped on the potty voluntarily for the very first time ever yesterday. Perhaps she will be potty trained before kindergarten, after all.
Still trying out Kung Log. I like the spell checker. I like being able to save drafts without connecting to the internet. That would come in handy when I’m away from home and without an always-on connection.
Test post of Kung-log…
I ran across the “Imponderables” site a few days ago. I enjoyed the books, but haven’t had time to read through the site. I did notice a question – “Why do women tend to drop hints rather than ask questions or for favors directly?”.
Well, tell you what. My daugher is three years old and she does this already. “Boy, I sure like jellybeans.” “Noggin is a good TV channel, you know? I sure do like to watch Noggin.” “I loooooooove going to Grandma’s house.” “Bubbles are fun to play with.” “I wonder if there are any bugs outside.”
All are pretty easy to translate except maybe for the last – we have had a horrible mosquito problem and told her she can’t play outside because there are too many bugs.
I’m sure hub and I do plenty of hinting around to get what we want. Who doesn’t, really? Otherwise it would seem that you’re too demanding. By casting subtle hints, it puts another person in the position of “freely” offering something. But kids aren’t worried about being demanding. Obviously. I think it boils down to aping parents’ behavior.
I don’t know if this is the worst PMS ever, or whether I’m going over the edge. For the past 2 days I’ve just been obsessing about bad times.
A couple of off-hand comments on others’ blogs yesterday about my bad birth experience, and boom, I was up until dawn reliving it, wishing I had closure, for hours. I don’t know if I will ever be mentally ready to have another child, and I’m sad about that.
Tonight, after thinking about Kenn’s entry saying his roommate’s HIV test was positive, I’ve been remembering my friend R.
He was a million contradictions in one person – gay, Jewish, Republican – and one of the nicest people I ever knew. He was diagnosed HIV+ in around 1985, and at that time it was like being handed a death sentence. 2 to 5 years of heavy suffering, no time off for good behavior. In 1986 he attempted suicide. In 1987 he had a heart attack. Still he kept on, weak, ill, but regaining a little of his sense of humor. I didn’t find out until the summer of his heart attack that he was gay or had AIDS, or why he had attempted suicide.
In 1988 I left for college. After I had moved into my dorm room, met my roommate and hallmates, and settled in, I went to the campus post office to make sure my key worked. When I opened my box, I found something there. Great, I thought, already I have junk mail on the first day of college. It wasn’t junk. It was a letter from R. that he had sent me so that I wouldn’t have an empty mailbox. In true R. form, it was in an elephant-shaped card. He was such a hardcore Republican.
I was busy, but I had no excuse. I just forgot to call or write back. Holidays at home were short, and I didn’t take time to visit him. My friends told me he looked bad, and it probably made me uncomfortable to think about seeing him so sick. By the time I finally got around to calling, he was quite ill in the hospital, and just about to move into the hospice. The conversation didn’t last long. He tried to be nice, but was too weak and in too much pain to talk.
He died in 1989, and I never did go to see him. I can’t live a long enough life to get past that guilt. There was a small group of his friends who sat with him around the clock in those last few days. Later I found out that my aunt, who is also a hardcore Republican, was one of the group. I never even realized they knew each other.
So tonight I brood on R. What will it be tomorrow? My parents, my cat, the grass in the back yard? Hopefully it will be nothing, and I can go back to living for today without moaning about yesterday.
Dear fuckstains,
I suppose you think that it’s cute, setting off firecrackers all night. You think it’s funny to set off M80s one at a time while driving slowly past the house. You think that putting a gross of black cats in a tin garbage can and lighting them is great fun.
Know what I think? I think you’re a giant waste of air. If I had my way, I’d light bottle rockets and Roman candles and aim them at you. You’re lucky my husband (for once) has the calmer head. I am letting him deal with you. It is better, at this time, if I do not do it myself.
However, if you wake up my children one more time, I will personally flay and castrate you stinking good for nothing wastes of air.
Now don’t you have something better to do, like taunt others about the way they dress, or get drunk and drive and kill a carload of people, or have a nice 4:20, or whatever it is the cool kids are doing these days?
Love,
Your Neighbor