Ackery

WIP Friday: I Think We're Going To Need A Bigger Drill.

It is always unnerving when, midway through filling a cavity, your dentist says to the hygienist, "Well, gosh. This is just one of those days when nothing's going to be as easy as you thought."

I need to switch dentists.

Nothing around here is as easy as we think it's going to be -- we painted the trim and doors, only to have a door fall off. We replaced some of the trim outside, only to have the handle of the back door break off. And yet, there's nothing I can do except press on. Apply a little more torque. Learn a new skill (hanging doors, for instance). Save my pennies. Remind myself that there is only so much in the universe I can control, and neither the dismal market nor stupid people fall into that category. Spend time with people I love. Work on things that bring me joy. Remember to floss.

Seriously, people. If you learn only one thing from me, let it be this: Remember. To. Floss. Proper dental hygiene is no laughing matter.

I needed a good laugh anyway.

The driveway-fixing guy called this morning, well before I had finished my cup of tea and just after the painters arrived somewhat unexpectedly.

"Tomorrow's supposed to be nice, so we'll come out and do the driveway then, okay?"
"Oh, that's great! Thanks!"
"Yeah, and if you're not home, you can just leave a check taped to the door. That'll be fine."
[crickets]

Really, driveway guy? I've never met you in my life, just spoken to you over the phone, and based on the sound of your voice alone, I should cheerfully tape a check to the door, before you've even started the work or I've had a chance to see what kind of job you did? Really? REALLY?

Needless to say, I'll be home.

It very nearly makes up for the Firefly debacle.

Somehow, I have managed to avoid watching even a single episode of American Idol. I know that Kelly Clarkson won once, and then a skinny little guy...Clay? Ty? I know that Simon is mean, because I watched that Susan Boyle video, and I know that Paula Abdul is supposed to be a little bit of a nutter. And there endeth my knowledge of American Idol.

Still, next week, I will be parked in front of the television, watching the last few minutes of American Idol, so as not to miss even a single second of Glee.

Grrr. The embed continues to elude me. Here's the direct link, anyway.

Glee -- Extended trailer

Girl, Six, Ready To Take On World

Much like somebody else I know, Ellie woke me up Thursday morning to announce that she felt significantly older. In fact, she informed me, she had felt older in the middle of the night. As I was operating on four hours of sleep, I felt much older, too. How did we celebrate her birthday? We toured model homes and decided which rooms would be hers, then went out for pizza at a restaurant that encourages you to throw peanut shells on the floor. Good times.

Despite the fact that she is no longer the baby, she will always be my baby, and I always picture her as such. But evidence is mounting that she is well on her way to being All Grown Up. Kindergarten is almost over and her class is starting their transition-to-first-grade activities; she's been invited up to the next level in her gymnastics program (and has politely but firmly declined); she has a new, fancy bike and is pretty much ready to take on the word. I love so many things about her: her confidence, her sunniness, her generosity, her goofy sense of humor, her determination. She truly believes that life is a grand adventure, and it thrills me to my toes that I get to come along for the journey.

Happy birthday, Ellie-bear.

Saving My Bacon: Whole Grain Edition

Longer post coming, but may I rave about the recipe that has saved my bacon, nutritionally speaking? I have long bemoaned my ability to cook rice in a manner befitting human consumption, and thanks to Miss Eliza, I found this little gem. It is idiot-proof, specifically made for brown rice, and so delicious that even Isabelle, who has long hated anything rice-based, was stealing spoonfuls out of the dish. I cut down on the salt, and substitute olive oil for butter, most of the time, but other than that it is perfection.

I don't know much about Alton Brown -- I seem to remember he has strange hair and a manner befitting Bill Nye -- but between this and the lemon curd, I feeling rather warmly about him as of late.

It's Only Tuesday

The problem with Turn Off the TV Week, I've found, is that it makes it impossible to let the children watch a show while you enjoy twenty-two minutes of sanity-saving alone time with a nice cuppa and a Trader Joe's 100-Calorie Dark Chocolate Bar before you start dinner.

Screen-free is all well and good, but in the end, it's the children who pay. Won't someone think of the children?

The 25% Project: Zen Edition

A while back, on a writing retreat, I was catching up with a friend who'd moved away several months beforehand. She'd moved, on fairly short notice, in a flurry of activity, to an area where she knew precisely no one. Settling in and getting her three boys into a routine had taken some time, leaving her with little opportunity for writing. When I asked how she felt about it, she shrugged. "It's like that cop show, Life," she said. "There's an episode where a Zen master makes his students dig a hole in the ground, then fill it up again. That's kind of where I'm at right now. I do laundry, it gets dirty. I clean up from breakfast, it's time to make lunch. And the key is just to accept that, rather than be frustrated by it, and then it doesn't take up so much of your energy. Dig a hole, fill it up."

Now, I have no idea if that's the lesson Damian Lewis and co. wanted us to glean from that episode, but since that day, I've often found myself muttering it whenever I'm stuck on an endless loop of chores, in the hope that I will feel more zen-like and serene. (I think D will be the first one to point out that, thus far, my hopes have gone unrealized. Zen-like and serene I am not.) And while this project is different -- there is tangible progress being made -- the saying still applies.

The box went to a friend's charity; the bags went to the library. For a few brief moments, I savored the sensation of progress and an empty van.

Then I stopped by the school, where the office ladies had a treat for me.

Dig a hole, fill it up.

Plagiarism Makes the Baby Jesus Cry.

It turns out that imitation is not actually the sincerest form of flattery, or perhaps it is that while credited imitation is flattering, copying someone is just bad form, and frankly annoying. Hence the new addition to the sidebar -- a Creative Commons license. One of the things I love about the blogging community is people's willingness to share ideas and inspire each other, and CC licenses seem like a good way to allow for that while still protecting the creator.

Sharing, as any preschooler will tell you, is nice. But so is giving credit where it's due.

Saturday Mish-Mash

I have an Amazon box with Northanger Abbey and Mansfield Park sitting on my desk, because I am still craving the genteel comfort of AustenFest 09, but on Monday, after I pay my hefty fine, I plan to order this from the library: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

+++++

The realtor came last night to give us house advice, which can be summed up thusly: Get rid of everything. Fix it up. Sacrifice small animals by the light of the full moon to the gods of real estate, and we might have a shot of selling this house. Maybe. Assuming that there truly is a fool born every minute in the greater Chicagoland area.

The girls played downstairs while the realtor was here, and after he left, a bone-tired Ellie asked, utterly serious, when the team would arrive.

"What team?" we asked.

She flopped down on the couch, exhausted by our dim-wittedness. "You know. The team."

She was crushed to hear that "the team" was not coming over first thing in the morning, thereby cheating her out of her chance to do some much-anticipated demo work.

+++++

We are watching our neighbors' pets while they are in California. Typically, we feed the cat and they send the dog elsewhere, but this time they couldn't use their regular dogsitter, so we agreed. I love dogs, and I like this dog very much, but to be honest, she is old and unwell and on a variety of medications, not entirely in control of her bodily functions, and accustomed to a great deal of human company. Every time I go over there, I am relieved beyond measure to find that she is still alive. This may be the first time in my life that I am anxious for a Monday, when they return.

+++++

I have done practically no preparations for Easter, obsessed as I am with packing up stuff. I am utterly stumped, as well. We don't want to give the girls a ton of candy, and we don't want to give them books and toys I'll be packing up soon anyway. Under such circumstances, what does one put in their baskets?

And now, we all enjoy a good chuckle.

Let's review, shall we?

++  Purge/organize girls' room
++  Revise synopsis
++  Scrub floors & walls
++  Finish returning defective Xmas gifts.
++  Figure out mail-order pharmacy forms; reorder asthma meds; sell plasma to afford meds. (I hate these people even more than George Bush and Dick Cheney. Haaaaate.)
++  Install new shade in Josie's room
++  Photograph Ellie's alphabet project; recycle
++  Put away play food choking hazards
++  Disassemble cradle; store
++  Get handyman quotes
++  Test new felting projects for Discovery Day; order supplies
++  Scan paperwork; recycle (A Sisyphean task if ever there was one, but yes.)
++  Swap out Josie's clothes for 6-12 month size
++  Burley & bike tuneup
++  Find a helmet for Josie's teeny-tiny nugget (The doctor says not until she's a year old.)
++  Clean out girls' paperwork bins & bulletin boards
++  Finish kite project
++  Purge bedroom shelves
++  Finish Ellie's puppet theater
++  Plan garden; order seeds/transplants
++  Purge old videos/DVDs

11.5 out of 21, which is a hair over 50%. In truth, I'm surprised I got so much done, especially with as many non-list activities as we crammed in: playdates, lunch dates, birthday parties, shopping trips...so I'm less frustrated than I would have expected. Now we can slip back into something approximating our regular schedule. We're winding down the school year and planning for the summer, which seems impossible given the several inches of snow that fell tonight.

So often, I feel like we are living our lives in the future. We sign the girls up for activities three or four months before they happen, we schedule appointments six months ahead of time, we plan for the next year and don't appreciate the moments that are happening to us right now. Spending time with the girls, even if it was just wandering around a bookstore or eating doughnuts, was just as important as any item on the list.