Archive for July, 2008

I miss you, Saffron!

I don’t understand why you wandered away after sticking close to home for so long. You were born the same year as K, and your babies were born the same year as E. Why did you leave your daughters and a family who loved you? I hope you’ve found a family who loves you as much as we did, and I hope you know that we and your daughters love you very much still.

I am more than ready for something to knock my socks off with fun now, the last month and a half has been less than stellar.



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Remembering an amazing lady.

The Squidlets’ great-grandma passed away yesterday. She was one hundred years old and had a full, rich life¬†filled with¬†love and family. I will write more about her when I am not quite so raw, this has hit me very hard.

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Open letter to the weed critics.

Dear people who look at my yard and scorn me for the number of weeds among my wildflowers,

Please keep your opinions on my slovenly gardening to yourself unless you are willing to either babysit my kids while I weed the damn garden OR are willing to get down on your knees and do it yourself. Personally, I’d choose the latter, if given the choice.



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It’s raining, it’s pouring…

It’s been a bit of an odd day. The atmosphere was charged due to the coming storms, and the Squidlets were squirrelly beyond belief. I hung out the clean diapers on the washline as a sacrifice to the Rain King. (side note – I find it incomprehensible that many American neighborhoods have covenants prohibiting clotheslines. To this I say WTF, people?! Because they’re unsightly? Your 3 MPG Hummer in the driveway is unsightly, to me. Your three-car garage full of gas guzzling “toys”? Unsightly. Your pesticide and herbicide laden golf course lawn? Unsightly. A clothesline, full of clean clothes airing on the summer breeze? Childhood in a (recyclable) bottle. ) Anyway.

Auntie M and the Squidlets in front of cloth dipes on the line

Auntie M, the Squidlets and the clothesline

So Grandma Kay and Auntie M came over to take K to the park to swim in the little river that flows through our community. Not the Wisconsin River, this one’s a glorified stream, pretty much. K played with M’s friend’s son Orion, who pretended to be a sea creature and he and K had a grand time chasing around in the water. It’s neat to be able to take my kids to the park I spent my summers in as a child. K got back, forgot the swim diaper does not contain piddles, and promptly piddled all over the dining room carpet (another side note – carpeting and dining rooms are poor bedfellows indeed. Someday, this will all be cork). When daddy got home with pizza, she was pretty excited, and jumping around in her chair at the table. So much so, in fact, that she slipped and banged her head on the antique Catholic kneeler I had near the kitchen to serve as a “reading nook” for the Squidlets. It didn’t seem so bad at first, until we lifted her bangs and realized she’d cut her forehead open on one of the brass brads holding the burgundy velvet padding onto the kneely bit. Ow! Big red “O” on her forehead, like a Tesco’s Harry Potter or something. I put antibiotic ointment and a bandage on immediately, and there was much comforting to be given. Poor dear. I took a trip to Target while the Squidlets had their bath, and bought some various bandages, salves, and scar-minimizing goop to use after it heals. I don’t mind my facial scars, but they’re tiny. The one on K’s forehead could be a whopper if not attended to properly. So that’ll be my next month or so, working on getting that thing to heal neatly. She cheered up after a bit and started banging on her little xylophone piano, singing “I hit my head, you hit me on the head, I hit my head”. Charming, no? Vaguely reminiscent of the time we were grocery shopping, and she very loudly shrieked “Don’t Hit Me!” when I told her we weren’t buying the Dora the Explorer sugar bomb cereal. We most certainly don’t hit our children, and I have no idea where she got the idea to yell that, but it sure made me feel like I was about three inches tall and reeking of squirrel vomit.

Time to work on the mountain of clutter that the guest room vomited out when we moved K’s futon in there. Amazing how much detritus collects in the “unused” areas of a house when you’ve occupied it for 9 years. We’ve lived here long enough to have painted the outside twice. Mostly because I picked a dark color that caused too rapid an expansion/contraction of the masonite siding and kept squeezing the caulk out. Recaulking is a pain in the butt. Not to mention the excess heat inside the house with the dark siding. The portions of the house that are light green now are NOTICABLY cooler. Weird how that works, no?

By the end of the month, the pine plantation in our back yard should be gone. I think they were planted back in the ’60s as a way to perhaps make money for the homeowner, but that ship has pretty much sailed. Ten years ago, or fifteen, the paper companies might have wanted to buy the trees. Not so much, now. I bet we’ll find some use for them though. I am hoping to plant some Lindens from my in-laws, and transplant some of the “volunteer” sugar maples that have come up in flower beds, when the pines are gone. It’ll be bright back there for a couple years, but I think things should fill in nicely.

And last but not least, I was checking out the flower beds this afternoon and realized that the Anemones have fluffed out like little blowfish made of cotton. I never realized this was their seed distribution method. They’re adorable, little silky cottonballs full of seeds. I randomly planted some around the shade garden in hopes of having more in the spring, they’re lovely.

Wish us luck keeping K from scarring and becoming Harriet Potter.


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Got Smart

The grands graciously babysat the Squidlets tonight and we were able to go out for dinner, ice cream, and a movie (Get Smart) with Amy and Jeremy, our very good friends. It was surreal not having the kids with, I must say. But refreshing!

I am a big fan of the original show, and I was nervous that the goofy Max-isms would be screwed up trying to make a contemporary film. To my great shock, surprise, and enjoyment, they were not. I think they hit the nail on the head with this one, and didn’t “Miss it by that much”. The gags seemed fresh and not contrived, the slapstick was there but not over the top, and the writing/dialog was fantastic. I pinched myself at least once because I was so amazed they got it right. Then again, Mel Brooks and Buck Henry consulted on it, so you know they wouldn’t have let it be made if it was dreck. They did make Max into a much more savvy and useful agent than in the original series, but didn’t turn him into an infalliable superagent like I was worried they might. Steve Carell and Anne Hathaway were perfect in the roles of Agents 86 and 99, and the other casting was perfection. I find myself hoping it becomes a movie franchise. Fans of the original series will enjoy the cameos, in-jokes, and lagniappes that liberally pepper the film, but those who have not seen the original series will enjoy the movie also, as it stands alone without needing the crutch of the in-jokes. They’re just the icing on the yellow cake.

Go see this movie! Storm the theatres, demand a movie franchise! I think it’s a very worthy film. And I am picky.


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HI. I am dumb.

I spent all day yesterday up on a scaffolding painting our house. (the painting itself will be the topic of a post at some time – it’s changing from a gorgeous deep blue-green which is incompatible with the materials of the house to a “lemongrass green tea” sort of color called “Cactus Shadow”. I call it “Serene Green”. Anyway) I spent all day on a scaffolding and avoided damaging myself, but when I went out the front door to get something out of the car, I must have rolled a one or something on my saving throw ’cause I hurled myself down the front steps. I can’t remember what made me trip, all I remember is valiantly twisting myself to keep my head from hitting the concrete. Instead, my head hit the ground/black raspberry bushes/juniper to the side of our front steps, my right shoe flew off and my right foot and ankle are a scraped up mess, and this morning, my whole body feels like the floor of a taxi cab. Falling down the steps, people. Remember the post a month or so ago about losing part of a tooth? I am getting feeble. Then again, I have always been a klutz. In junior high, I was walking back from tennis practice on a railroad tie that served as an edging to the grass by the parking lot. I fell off and hairline fractured my collarbone. I fell down two flights of stairs in Junior High and had to walk on crutches for two weeks. It was then that I received the nickname “gimpy” from one of my friends. Ah well.

Guess I have a mandated break from painting for a couple days, as I could not balance too well on the scaffolding presently. It’s raining, anyway. And of course, the diapers are out on the clothesline, getting soaked. If they hadn’t have been hung, it wouldn’t have rained.

I got a haircut yesterday. Topic for another post. Right now we’re getting ready to go for a playdate. If K bolts this time, I don’t think I can catch her. Hopefully she won’t bolt.


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