Thursday, November 4, 2010


Did you know that a 4 year old who doesn't want to go to sleep is really hard to convince otherwise? At least when that 4 year old is, apparently, related to and raised by me.

In the infamous words of Calvin's father, "I wanted to get dachsunds."

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Day 3, Random post 2 - the numbers are not looking good

Thoughts for another night, when I'm not working on China time:

- True confessions of a middle-class woman and her ridiculous access to resources. Oh the guilt.
- "Sonofabitch"
- Unnatural love of ginger ale. (The barrel, the bottom is scraped.)

Wednesdays suck. Wednesdays will continue to suck for the foreseeable future. Note to self, next time you decide to reinvigorate your blog, choose to do so in a month with no Wednesdays.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

What was this blog thing again?

Yesterday, I spent a good deal of time digging through old blog posts looking for something my father was quite certain that I'd written (a story about Brigit pretending to need to pee, only to yell "April Fool's!" - I'm sure she did it, because it is totally something that she'd do, but I never found it), and I was both saddened by the complete and utter dearth of writing in the previous weeks/months/shit, year, and surprised by some of the things that I have written over the past 2+ years.

It seems, from second reading, that this used to be easier. But perhaps that's because I was not rusty then, and oh am I rusty now.

And I don't want to be rusty. It is that time of year again, National Blog Posting Month, my old friend NaBloPoMo, and I have committed to (try to) post every day in November. So far, I'm batting 1000.

(Apologies for gratuitous post to post post. I choose to blame it on the midterms. Tune in tomorrow for more mindless drivel - I'll leave the light on for you.)

Monday, November 1, 2010

Rory, Age 7

"Here, Mom," Rory said, handing me a piece of red yarn. "I snuck this out of music class last year. I thought it would come in handy."
"What's it for?"
"So you can remember me when I'm grown up."

And here is the memory that will be forever contained in this piece of red string:

Me: Don't forget to put your tooth under your pillow.
Rory: I'm pretty sure there are three possibilities for the tooth fairy.
Me: [crap, crap, crap, childhood ending in 3-2-1.]
Me: Really?
Rory: Yes. One - she's real. Two - someone is sneaking into the house in the middle of the night and taking my tooth and leaving money.
Me: But not the tooth fairy?
Rory: [duh]
Me: What's the third option?
Rory: Three - magic.
Me: Isn't the tooth fairy magic?
Rory: [duh] She HAS magic, Mom.
Me: [whew]