James Cameron

Dear James Cameron,

Fuck. Yes.

Love,
Kate

Dear Management

Dear Management,

Thanks for the festive $5 Starbucks gift card. Given that I have worked something like 80 to 100 hours of overtime in the last four weeks, that means you value my time at approximately 5¢ per hour. Except that I'm pretty sure the people who can't do a damn thing right and leave the office at 3pm got the same thing. So I guess that pretty much reduces your perceived value of my time to 0.

Good to know.

Regards,
Kate

Dear Jay Cutler

Dear Jay Cutler,

I think maybe you could get your depth perception checked. How is it that even when you have enough of a pocket to get off a decent pass (which I'll grant you isn't all that often), you still overthrow your receiver by, like, five feet? Also, maybe you could look at Olsen a little more in the next six minutes? Like maybe a nice game-winning TD pass? Just an idea.

Love,
Kate

Dear Chasing Amy

Dear Chasing Amy,

Thank you for the exteriors of Prown's and Jack's. They provided a welcome respite from the rest. The rest? Stilted dialogue that just sounds *written*; crass scenes that don't advance the story, but are just crass for the sake of crassness; and yes I'll say it, a star who should have sucked down one fewer helium balloon before delivering her lines. I'm finishing watching you because (a) I made a deal, and (b) my beloved husband thinks you're awesome, but oy vey.

Love,
Kate

Sated

You know how, when you eat too much, your stomach hurts because it is so full? Well, if you will indulge me for a moment on this overly sappy and wildly cliché observation from tonight....

I got home from work after the kids were in bed tonight. They were still awake, though, so I went in to say good night to each of them, and when Elder Child said he loved me and missed me, and Younger Child asked me to sit with him for a few minutes, my heart was so full that it hurt.

Yeah, yeah, I know--far from the most original thought on earth, but I just wanted to capture the feeling for posterity. So there you have it. Being a mom is like having indigestion.

Performance Evaluation

Dear Performance Evaluation,

I hate you. Your only purpose in life is to give management an "official" reason for divvying up the raises however they have already decided to divvy them. I know how I'm doing, my boss knows how I'm doing, and I know what she thinks of how I'm doing. If any of that weren't the case, there would be a much bigger issue than could be solved by my rating myself from 1 to 5 on a bunch of random qualities. I know you are here to stay, but that doesn't mean I have to like you, especially when I have to stay two hours late to finish you.

Bitterly yours,
Kate

Dear Blog Readers

Dear Blog Readers (if there are any of you out there),

I am going to make an attempt to revive my blog in the format of the "Dear So-and-So" letters that have dominated my Facebook statuses for the last few weeks. We'll see how long this lasts.

Love,
Kate

It Shipped!

My beautiful new camera strap (pictured here: http://phatstraps.com/inc/sdetail/3249 with the minky lining I chose) shipped yesterday! That means that I might very well have it in time for the photography meetup I am going to on Sunday! Huzzah!

Maybe It Should Be *Mommy's* Bedtime

Picture this, if you will....

I have the Younger Child on his changing table, and have taken off his diaper to change him and get him into his jammies. I finish cleaning him, and reach for the pants of his brand new "Mr. Fix-It" pajamas. I start to put them on, and the Child says, "Mommy, why don't I need a diaper?"

I look down, and sure enough, I have not put a new diaper on him. Oops.

Victory!

Today, ladies and gentlemen, is Day 30 of my 30-day commitment, and by a scant 30 minutes (that must be a magic number), I am declaring victory in my undertaking. I didn't necessarily think I could do it, but I just counted and recounted the days, and sure enough, here we are.

I am now kicking around the idea of doing some sort of x number of photos in x days project next, but I'm not quite ready to put that in writing (I mean, other than the fact that I just did). Stay tuned, however, to see what my next madcap plan is!

Decision Made! Strap Ordered!

I know you have all been waiting anxiously to find out which minky color I selected for my camera strap lining. After much consultation and self-searching, I finally chose exactly what I wanted. I will share that choice with you in just a moment, but first, the results of the survey:

There were 24 respondents. Out of those 24, 14 said black, 4 said pink, 4 said hot pink, and 6 said other.

I briefly considered going in a completely different direction and picking lavender. I also considered defying the survey results and opting for pink. Finally, though, after way too much thought and annoying the hell out of everyone I know by asking over and over again, I went with......black!

I have placed my order, and can't wait to get it!

Ha!

cantigny_DSC_9655_edit, originally uploaded by Nanley.

Well, I got through 20 images, so I have posted them to Flickr. This is one of them. You are welcome to view them at www.flickr.com/photos/nanley/.

Drat!

Thanks to a very understanding Best Beloved, who encouraged me to take my still-shiny-new camera out for some playtime this evening, I spent almost two hours shooting (bringing my April total to 671 images). I had hoped to get enough shots processed to make a blog post out of them, but alas, I don't think that's going to happen. And what's worse, I really want to get through this processing--or at least get through an initial triage of processing--so this sad little "here's why I'm not posting to my blog tonight" post is going to constitute today's post.

Pitiful, I know.

(On a side note, I have settled on a fabric for my new PhatStraps camera strap, and now I just have to pick a lining color. If you have not done so already, please go to my survey to vote and help me choose!)

In Which I Offer Some Humble Suggestions for a Certain Displaced Governor

Those of you among my loyal readers who live in Illinois are probably already aware of the shenanigans of our ex-governor, Rod Blagojevich. And actually, even those of you who live elsewhere are most likely aware, as he has been a laughingstock since his removal from office in January.

Well, he has now reached new heights of absurdity. Blagojevich--a man who really seems to want us to take him seriously--petitioned a judge to let him leave the country.

Not so absurd, you may say?

Think again. The man who led the state of Illinois just three short months ago wanted to go to Costa Rica...to be on the reality show, "I'm a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here!" Sadly, the judge decided today that he would not be allowed to leave the country.

To be honest, I'm a little disappointed that we won't be able to see him engage in the kinds of humiliating stunts performed by such notable celebs as Downtown Julie Brown and Melissa Rivers. However, maybe this doesn't have to be the end of Rod's reality show dreams. For his consideration:

• Big Brother: A special version just for Illinois governors, Big Brother in the Big House.
• American Idol: He can sing like a canary, and perhaps make a deal with the prosecutors.
• Solitary: If nothing else, it would be good practice.
• The Apprentice: Hey, the guy can sell a Senate seat--I'm sure he'll do just fine hawking whatever Trump's got in the works.
• Dancing with the Stars: But only if he could partner with Jude Law...because nobody dances around the Law like Blagojevich.

The Brain Is a Mysterious Jukebox

For the last two days, I have had the song, "There's Always Tomorrow" in my head.

Sung by Clarice.

The reindeer.

From Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

The Christmas special.

And yes, even though it is supposed to snow tonight, it is currently April...late April.

I really have no idea how that song got in my head, but here it is, just echoing around.

There's always tomorrow
For dreams to come true
Believe in your dreams
Come what may

There's always tomorrow
With so much to do
And so little time in a day

We all pretend
The rainbow has an end
And you'll be there, my friend, someday

There's always tomorrow
For dreams to come true
Tomorrow is not far away

We all pretend
The rainbow has an end
And you'll be there, my friend, someday

There's always tomorrow
For dreams to come true
Tomorrow is not far away

Or, enjoy it for yourself.

Tomorrow, I expect to press B8 for "Gives You Hell" or G3 for "Two Princes," as both have been in heavy brain rotation lately.

Things You Learn When You're a Parent I

To play "Coffee," you have to wear only one shoe.

This, per the Younger Child.

And it should be noted that the only aspect to the game is the wearing of one shoe. There is no beverage involved, nor any rules, just wearing one shoe.

The things that go on in that kid's head....

Movie Review: Sunshine Cleaning

Thanks to a surprise date night ("Hey, Mom, wanna take the kids tonight?" "Okay, as long as you pick them up before I go to work tomorrow."), we went to see Sunshine Cleaning. I can't promise there won't be any spoilers, so if you don't want to risk it, don't read any further.



Still with me?

Okay, well, for just a bit of a plot summary...it's basically about a woman who works as a maid and needs a better income, so she starts a crime scene cleanup business with her sister.

The characters were nothing special. Rose, the main character, was the classic (and by "classic," I mean "cliché") super-responsible-single-mom type; her sister, Norah, was the even more classic totally-irresponsible-lives-with-her-dad-needs-to-be-taken-care-of-by-her-sister type. The supporting characters were also pretty cardboardy.

I think the premise of the movie was fine, and I even would have been okay with the not-terribly-original characters in it, but the movie's downfall was its desire to try to be about eight different things. It was about the plucky ex-cheerleader-now-maid who wants a better life. It was about two sisters who were raised by their father, in their mother's absence. It was about the unlikely friendship between two women who were brought together in a very unusual way. It was about a blossoming romance between a single mom and her business associate. It was about a man's wacky business ideas.

I could see what the movie was trying to do to pull all those stories together. I really wanted to like it, and was on board at the beginning of the film. But in the end, it was just too clumsy, and it didn't deliver. It felt discombobulated and unfinished. It just plain didn't work.

On the plus side, I have now seen two of the three quirky "Sunshine" movies out there. (Seen: Little Miss Sunshine and Sunshine Cleaning. Still to be seen: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.)

The Road Not Taken

Like everyone (I imagine), I considered a lot of career paths before eventually settling on the one I am currently on. Although I do enjoy editing (my chosen path), I also think back on the many careers I didn't choose and wonder "what if." Here now is a short list of those might-have-beens....

• Lawyer: I think this is the one I think about the most. I even still toy with the idea of going to law school someday. I'm confident I would have been a good one, and I think I would enjoy it, but it would have been hard to find a good work-life balance.
• Doctor: Haven't really thought about this one since I was a little kid, but I still remember the skeleton I drew in elementary school. I'm certainly no artist, but the skeleton wasn't half bad, I believe because I had such passion for it.
• Veterinarian: Similar to doctor, but a slightly more recent idea. I was probably in my late teens when I was considering it. I do love animals, but I was too intimidated by how competitive vet schools are.
• Anthropology/linguistics professor: This was in the running all the way through college. I love the idea of teaching those subjects, but just wouldn't be able to stomach the political craziness that goes along with an academic career.
• Forensic anthropologist: Not completely separate from the professor, which is a big part of why I didn't travel this route. I lovelovelove forensic anthropology. I wonder how my life might have been different if the best graduate program in the country hadn't been in Tennessee. Alas, I'll never know.
• Speech/language pathologist: When I was having something of a career crisis a couple of years ago, it just so happened that the Elder Child was in speech therapy, and I found the work that his SLP did completely fascinating. It was a lovely combination of linguistics and medicine. However, it required a specialized master's degree, which, in turn, would have required some specialized undergrad work, and that just wasn't worth it to me.
• Librarian: My mother used to call me "Marian," after the librarian in Music Man. This is another career I still think about, and I even consider going back to school for an MLIS degree. It's the perfect career to satisfy my passion for research, but unfortunately, jobs in library science don't pay anything like what I'm used to earning, and I'm not prepared to lower our family income so much.

I'm sure I'm omitting some of the professions that I've knocked around in my brain, but I think those are the main ones that cause me to wonder. Thankfully, I do love editing, and I'm very good at it, so while I might have my wistful moments, for the most part, they aren't painful regrets.

Still...I'd make a hell of a bone detective.

Bread Man

My Best Beloved husband has relatively recently taken up the hobby of baking bread. In the last month or two, he has made several loaves--most recently sourdough.

I support this hobby.

And to top it off--literally!--he often makes a flavored butter to go with the bread. (And now I pause as my tastebuds recall the deliciousness of the pecan bread with maple butter. Mmmm....)

Since he reads this blog, I think I will take this opportunity to suggest an option for his next baking venture: some sort of cheese-infused bread with some sort of honey-infused butter. Oh, yeah. You know that will be awesome.

Testing

Eye Opener, originally uploaded by Nanley.

Indirectly thanks to my good friend, Jilly, I have connected my Flickr account to my Blogger account, in the hopes that something cool will happen. I am therefore now testing the process. I took this photo last summer. You may look upon it with admiration and awe now.

[Hmm...now that I have posted this, it appears that Blogger cuts off the right side of the image because of the blog layout. I will have to work on that. Drat!]

You Love 'Em or You Hate 'Em

Black jelly beans, that is.

I am firmly, passionately, and completely in the "love 'em" camp.

Celebrating

On Thursday, my brother will be 38 years old. Today, he is six months sober.

This is a really big deal.

Only a little over a year ago, he was admitted into rehab with a blood alcohol level of .32. (For a frame of reference, at .35, one's heartbeat and respirations can stop.) He was sober after that for not quite three months, then went back to drinking. He stopped again in October...six months ago.

To say that I am proud of him is accurate, certainly, but does not express the depth of my pride. That he found the strength within himself to go through our father's death sober speaks volumes.

In these past six months, I have regained the brother who was my best friend growing up, and my children have gained a loving, engaged uncle. For my brother, the gains are slower in coming. He has a lot of emotional damage to work through, but I have confidence that if he can beat his addiction, he can put those issues behind him, too.

So today, I congratulate my brother on six months of sobriety, of life renewed.

And, at his request, I now go out to fetch him a grilled chicken club sandwich and chocolate shake. Congrats, Bubba.

Public Service Announcement

My brother-in-law has a rare form of leukemia--usually reserved for people over the age of 65. (Did I mention that he is not yet 30?) It's not typically fatal by itself (as his doctor said when he was diagnosed two years ago, you die with it, you don't die from it), but it has certainly made his life more difficult and less pleasant.

He was recently in the hospital for two and a half weeks for, basically, the flu. Because this most recent bout of illness was so serious, the doctors have started talking about a bone marrow transplant again.

Which brings me to the subject of this public service announcement.

Please register with the National Marrow Donor Program. It costs $52, and they send you a kit to do a cheek swab. Then you're registered, and whammo! have the potential to save someone's life.

I don't know whether my brother-in-law will end up needing marrow...but someone will.

Did I Mention I Have a New Camera?

I seem to have taken 489 pictures in the last two days.

I guess it's a holiday weekend and all, so regardless, I'd have been shooting a lot...but holy freaking hell, I love this camera.

[Warning: This post is likely to descend into severe photography geekage.]

I love the way the shutter sounds, that no-kidding-around *click*. I love the size of the LCD--and it's so sharp! I love the top display and the fact that the meter shows there. I love the clarity of the images I shoot at 3200 ISO. I love how easy it is to get at the commands and options I want to get at (and I haven't even set up custom menus yet). I even love the way the multi-selector works when I play back images (much more intuitive than the D70's playback).

So far, I truly don't think there is anything about this camera that I do not love. Mind you, there is a heck of a lot that I don't even remotely understand how to use yet, but that is just exciting and challenging. I can't wait to improve my craft so that I can really take advantage of all the camera offers.

:cameranerdswoon:

Recipe for a Great Day

Ingredients:
1 5-year-old boy
1 2.5-year-old boy
2 additional kids
24 plastic eggs filled with goodies
24 real eggs
egg dyeing supplies
1000 lbs. assorted candy
4 balls suitable for throwing and kicking
1 lamb cake
2 quarts ice cream
handful of great friends

Directions:

1. Before beginning, have one of friends scatter filled plastic eggs throughout backyard.
2. Have all 4 children combine real eggs with egg dye and set aside to dry.
   
3. Fill all 4 children with candy until steam is coming out their ears.
4. Release children into backyard with instructions to find plastic eggs.
5. Allow children to run like hooligans until they have collected all 24 eggs.
6. Replace eggs with balls and have children continue to run around like hooligans, playing catch and soccer and football.
7. When children have cooled considerably outdoors, bring them inside.
8. Fill children with lamb cake and ice cream.
9. Set children outside for further running.
10. Shortly before sun sets, bring children inside again and return home with 5-year-old boy and 2.5-year-old boy.
11. Put boys to bed.

Note: For added enjoyment, document all activities with brand new camera.

That's How They Get You

Here's the thing about little kids. They do things like cut up pieces of paper into little tiny pieces and leave the bits all over the floor, or wake up crying at 4:48am, or insist after one bite that they don't really want the chocolate doughnut that they begged for but instead want the strawberry one their brother has, or or scream bloody murder about having to turn off the Xbox.

But then they have exchanges like this one in the car the other day:

Younger Child: Dad, you're a genius.
Elder Child: Genius means very, very, very, very smart, like 100% smart. [looks at his brother] Do you think I'm smart?
Younger Child: Yes.
Elder Child: Am I 100% smart?
Younger Child: Yes.
Elder Child: Am I a genius?
Younger Child: Yes.

Or this on at the dinner table tonight:

Elder Child: [makes thumb-and-index-finger gun and points at brother, then makes gun sound] I shot you in the face.
Younger Child: [closes eyes tightly] I'm blind. I can't see anything.
Both Children: [laugh hysterically]

And you have to laugh with them and be so totally in love with them that you actually feel pain in your chest when you gaze at them sleeping.

And that's how they get you.

D300, I Love You So

After a long, unproductive, crappy day at work, the one thing that kept me going was the knowledge that my shiny new D300 would be at home waiting for me. I had a momentary panic when I realized that the battery would have to be charged first (which takes 12 hours for a full charge), but somehow, miraculously, it charged much more quickly, and I was, indeed, able to play with my new toy.

I guess I should admit that it took me about 10 minutes to figure out how to put the memory card in. And did I mention that the manual is 420 pages long? (I'm currently on p. 114: Autoexposure Lock.)

After that rough start, though, I was able to take two pictures (though I cheated and used the P mode and the pop-up flash). I'm sure you will be shocked to read that one of the pictures was of the Elder Child, and one of the Younger Child.

I am considering taking my camera to work tomorrow, so that I can shoot during lunch. But how on earth would I transport it? Oh, wait! My Best Beloved surprised me with a new Lowepro backpack! (I still have to choose a fabric for my Phat Straps camera strap, but I can use the one it came with for now.)

Ah well...I must return to my reading materials. Next section: Exposure Compensation!

An Expensive Day

You know how one morning you have some amount of money, and by nightfall, you have $8000 less?

No?

Well, here's how you accomplish that. First, you have a furnace that needs to be replaced. You choose the best one, because it will save gas and electricity, and will also get you a nice chunk of tax credit next year.

Then, you have a broken drain pull in a sink. Which, by itself, you could fix for not too much money, but while the plumber is checking it out, he finds that your sink traps need to be replaced, as well as your emergency stop valves. Oh, and since you're planning on redoing that bathroom anyway, you figure you might as well replace the whole faucet, rather than just the drain pull. Did I mention that it's a double sink? So that means replacing both faucets.

After that...well, after that, the expenditure is kind of your own fault, because you go on Amazon and finally order that Nikon D300 you've been lusting after for at least a year.

Basically, from then on, you walk around in kind of a daze, because you're so excited about the prospect of getting your camera the very next day (thank you, Amazon Prime!). And you dream of all the beautiful, low-light images you can make with your new camera. And you check out Phat Straps to find a really cool new camera strap. And you check out eBay to get a spare battery, since of course, the D300 uses a different battery from your current camera. And you check out Bogen for an additional quick release plate for your tripod. And you browse B&H to drool over the 70-200 2.8 lens.

And you realize that this $8000 day is just a drop in the bucket.

Potpourri

Tonight I have many small things to discuss. Or at least to open up discussions about. In my comments section. Which is, you know, right at the bottom of this post. If you click Comments. srsly

Hyphenation
At the request of a friend at work. Specifically, how to hyphenate "seven-year-old." Two hyphens? One? Zero? My response was two, depending on the context. If it occurs prenominally (aka, before a noun, as in "seven-year-old kid"), definitely two. If it occurs on its own (e.g., "He's acting like a seven-year-old."), you could make an argument for zero. It occurred to me after I proclaimed the correct answer that there is, indeed, a context in which one hyphen would be correct: "There were not eight, but only seven year-old babies in the daycare."

Campaigners
Today was a local election (in which I--shamefully--did not vote). Here is my complaint: Why oh why, before any election, must all the flipping candidates come lurk at the train station in the morning to distribute their literature. They pounce on each commuter as the commuter walks in the door, no matter how busy and uninterested that commuter attempts to look. They also set up tables with free coffee, which I suppose most of the commuters like, but my attitude is, if you really want to be an effective officeholder in this community, how about you come to the train station after you're elected and talk to us and find out what we want. I don't need your coffee, guys; I need your advocacy.

Oxymorons
Another request by a work friend. She wanted some examples other than "jumbo shrimp." One of the most commonly cited ones, I think, is "military intelligence." A few others: "mostly unique," "clean coal," "pretty ugly," "same difference," and "seriously funny."

Geek (and/or Nerd) Cred
I think of myself as a nerdy geek or a geeky nerd, but the fact is that I differ greatly from both the nerd and geek communities on several key issues.

• I hated The Matrix. I mean, really cool effects and all, but the plot? Not so much. And the acting? Two words: Keanu Reeves.
• I hated Battlestar Galactica. The new one, that is. My least favorite word in the English language is "frak." Ugh. Turns my stomach just to think about it.
• I don't enjoy D&D. Did one tabletop role-playing game (for which my mother was the GM) when I was a teenager. It was okay, I guess, but definitely not something I want to do again. Ever. [Note: I have played many, many computer RPGs and enjoyed them greatly (I'm looking at you, Lord British). I was even into MUDing for a little while. So maybe I'm at least a little bit redeemed on this one.]
• I've never seen Doctor Who. And (dare I say it?) don't really care to. I'm sure it's great and all, but yeah, whatevs.

I'm sure there are other significant departures. On the plus side, though, I do love math, and I love many science fiction and fantasy novels. Love me some Star Trek and Star Wars. So, I dunno. What say you, faithful readers?

Sleep
Underrated. Like, painfully, severely, drastically underrated. I have not had a good night of it in recent memory. I am starting to feel a wee bit like a zombie. And yet, I cannot get myself to go to bed at a decent hour. I apparently have stupidity-induced insomnia.

Baseball
Yesterday was Opening Day. Cubs won! It is currently tied at 2 in the top of the 9th, with 2 outs. This freaking game is going to go into extra innings, and I am going to have to stay up to watch it. See "Sleep," above.

Pressure

It has come to my attention that the readership of this blog might be getting dangerously close to a whole hand. While of course I am glad that people are actually reading the blather that I post, it is also quite anxiety inducing.

It was one thing when nobody read it. Not even a big deal when I realized that the Husband added it to his RSS feed. But now...now!...I feel as though I actually have to write something worth reading. And let's be honest--the chance of that happening...especially during my 30-posts-in-30-days commitment...is slim at best.

Today, for instance. Entirely a metapost. Not even remotely interesting. But since I am getting awfully close to my midnight deadline for tonight's post, this is what you're getting.

So, better luck next time. Stay tuned until tomorrow, when I might post about religion, politics, or why The Matrix was just a bad movie.

Whither Weather?

Okay, seriously?

I know, I know, it's Chicago. I've lived here for more than 15 years, and before that, I lived in upstate New York for more than four years, so I should be used to it.

But I'm not.

It is currently snowing. It is also currently April.

And what's worse...it's sticking! I mean, it's one thing for a few flakes to sort of flurry around in the air and then melt on impact. But to look outside and see an inch or so piled up on top of the sand table...that's just not right.

Oh, and did I mention that it's supposed to continue snowing for the next two days, too?

Bite me, Chicago Weather Gods.

Egg Hunt

Today was an egg "hunt" at our local zoo. (I put "hunt" in quotes, because the eggs were basically just strewn all over the ground--no actual hiding or hunting involved.) Both kids went, along with their cousin. The kids were grouped by age, so the Younger Child was in a different group (the bunnies) from the Elder Child and his cousin (the chicks).

First up was the bunnies. To say that the Younger Child, with his Tonka truck Easter basket, was somewhat lacking in the clue department is to put it mildly. At first, he wouldn't pick anything up, even when he was right next to it. Finally, he picked up a couple of things, and he was done. Luckily, he was perfectly satisfied with that, and happy with his goodies.

Then the chicks went, and the Elder Child was off, dashing around, gathering eggs into his Star Wars basket. He ran like a champ and got a good haul, as did his cousin.

After the hunt, we all went to Red Robin for lunch, where the Easter Bunny put in an appearance.

Tomorrow? Egg dyeing. And next week, another egg hunt on Saturday, then brunch on Sunday, followed by yet another egg hunt and a family gathering at my mother-in-law's.

Pretty festive for an atheist family, no?

What Baby Doesn't Need One of These?

Baby Bands

And, so the boys don't feel neglected: Baby Toupees.

I can't seem to find a price on the Baby Bands site, but the Baby Toupees run about $22. Sadly, my children are too old for the toupees now. (I think the Elder One would have looked great in a Samuel L., and the Younger One would have rocked the hell out of the Bob.)

However, they do suggest that these items make great baby shower gifts. And luckily, I have a few friends who are hoping to reproduce one of these days.

Now normally, when I think "great baby shower gifts," I think of cute outfits, Miracle Blankets, or strollers. Not creepy fake hair. But hey, what do I know? So, my friends who are hoping to reproduce soon...forewarned is forearmed.

I might even let you pick the style.

I [heart] Her

Today in Great Britain, Michelle Obama said to 100 school girls:

"I never cut class. I loved getting As, I liked being smart. I liked being on time. I thought being smart is cooler than anything in the world."

Just wanted to get that out there, since the media only seems to want to talk about her clothes.

Dexter vs. Breaking Bad

We've watched the first two seasons of Dexter (and have no just started the third), and recently started watching Breaking Bad. I think the shows are somewhat similar, in that the main character in both is a likable guy with a terrible criminal side.

So why do I hate Breaking Bad and love Dexter?

In fact, I've completely stopped watching Breaking Bad--even though I acknowledge that it's a well written show. So I've given quite a lot of thought to the difference as I analyzed my feelings on both programs.

What it comes down to, I think, is that Walter, the main character in Breaking Bad, is a normal, happy family man who, upon being diagnosed with lung cancer, starts cooking and selling crystal meth. Dexter, on the other hand, is a messed-up psychopath who is addicted to killing people, but continually realizes that he is more engaged and caring than he believes.

Basically, Breaking Bad is about a man's dehumanization, and Dexter is about a man's humanization. And I guess I just get no pleasure in watching a man self-destruct, but I do get great pleasure in watching a man find more and more humanity within himself.

And that's my deep thought for the day.

Day Seven

Today's post completes the first week of my "30 posts in 30 days" plan. It is also the first post for which I have no topic in mind. However, since I am 118 minutes from the end of the day, I must write something. I think I will just provide a list of some of the things I have thought about today:

• April Fool's: I didn't play any tricks this year. Boo!
• Watchmen: I think I'll finish it tomorrow, so I can finally see the movie.
• furnace: We'll probably go with the top option.
• rainbrella: The Younger Child's ridiculously adorable word for "umbrella."
• cameras: D300 vs. D90 (I think the D300 has won.)
• baseball: This is the year!

Aaaaand, that's pretty much all I've got. I do apologize for this pathetic excuse for a blog post and hope that you will not hold it against me. I hereby endeavor to do better tomorrow, and for each of the next 23 days.

Memo for 2009

Hard as it may be to believe, given that my mother died in 2002, the fact remains that 2008 was pretty much the worst year of my life. I won't go into detail, since this memo is directed at 2009, but take my word for it--2008 was truly dreadful. So I would just like to say this:

Dear 2009,

Do not even think about it.

I see that you are already trying to mess with two of my best friends, and you can just cut it out. I had better not see any further medical issues in anyone's family that matters to me. (N.B. This includes my own family!) No death, no serious injury, no hospitalizations. Oh, and no mental/emotional issues, either.

Mind you, I'm not saying I want to win the lottery or be promoted to president of my company. All I want from you, 2009, is a nice, unassuming little year. Twelve pleasant months. You can even throw in a couple of nuisances; I'm not greedy. I would just like a year during which I do not feel an overwhelming need to curl up in the fetal position and stay in bed for 52 weeks.

Thanks for your kind cooperation in this matter.

Best regards,
Kate

Shoes That *Are* Funny I

How I Met Your Mother.

And the level of excellence is further emphasized when you are forced to watch Tim and Eric's Awesome Show immediately after it.

Typical line from HIMYM: "You can call it a ninja star danger jock if you want. Doesn't make you any less of a cross-dresser." (Barney, upon seeing Marshall in a "night shirt")

Typical line from TaEAS: "I'm not gonna wear my African hat."

Typical line from HIMYM: "Weird meats, funny music, side of rice. Why are we splitting hairs?" (Barney, on why Indian food is the same as Chinese food)

Typical line from TaEAS: [some sort of over-long visual humor surrounding the "C-bund"--a cummerbund to be worn without pants]

Truly, I feel a little ill.

Anniversary.

Seven years, three jobs, five deaths, a house, two children, most of my 30s, and a million little stories.

That is what my mother, who died March 29, 2002, has missed of my life.

I love you, Base.

Easy Questions

"Would you like the boys to sleep over at my house next Saturday?"

This question does not require contemplation on the part of any parents--provided, of course, that the question is posed by a close, trusted friend, and not some weird guy with a raincoat at the mall.

Since this question was asked of us last week (yes, by a close, trusted friend), tonight is the night. And, in fact, it's even a bit better than the original plan, because, "Would you like us to pick up the boys a little early and take them to dinner?" was posed a short while ago. Thus, the children are both out of the house already! For the whole night! Until morning!

On the agenda? Dinner (Parker Ocean Grill) and a movie (I Love You, Man). And last, but by no means least, sleeping in tomorrow morning!

Parenting Olympics

Let's face it. If I'm going to do 30 consecutive blog posts, I'm going to have to start stealing ideas sometime. Might as well do it now and get it over with.

Credit to Shaina for heading my brain down this path. She mentioned that diapering an angry baby should be an Olympic sport, and I wholeheartedly agree. Along those lines, here are some other events that I think should appear in the Parenting Olympics:

100-Yard Potty Dash: Get a newly potty-trained child to the bathroom in the nanosecond between when he realizes he has to go and when he actually starts going. This can either be done on the flat, or over obstacles such as Matchbox cars, Legos, and blocks.

Standing Full-Body Rock (Endurance Marathon): Hold a 20-lb baby and must rock back and forth on their feet until the baby falls asleep. Athletes should expect to spend up to an hour, and if rocking stops prematurely, baby wakes up and clock restarts.

Sleeping Child Carry: Remove a large, sleeping child from a car seat without waking the child. Carry child up flight of stairs and put in bed. As with the 100-Yard Potty Dash, this can be done on the flat or over obstacles.

Dinner Dive and Catch: As toddler throws various food items, dive and catch the items before they reach the floor. Points are deducted for items not caught in the hands (e.g., caught in the hair, caught on the wall, etc.).

Bathtime Baby Hold: Maintain grip on a baby who is sitting in a bathtub full of water and covered in soap. Includes mandatory "dismount" in which athletes must safely remove slippery baby from tub, dry baby, and put diaper on baby before baby pees or poops.

Eye Drop Wrestle: Pin young child to floor and administer two eye drops in each eye. Athletes can compete as singles or pairs.

Got any others? Feel free to contribute additional ideas in comments.

Embarking

Okay...I said I'd do it, so I am going to try. Today marks the first day of the 30-day period during which I will attempt to post something to my blog every day. Strap yourself in and hang on!

So, I always sing to the boys at bedtime. The Elder's favorite song is "It's a Sin to Tell a Lie." I'm guessing that most people have never heard of that (or most of the other songs in my bedtime rotation.) They're pretty much all the songs my mother sang to me when I was little, and those are pretty much all World War I love songs. (Or at least pre-World War II.)

Anyway, I love that "It's a Sin to Tell a Lie" is his favorite, because it was always my favorite--I even sang a duet of it with my mother at my wedding. When I first started singing it, it was emotional and even kind of hard to get through for that reason, but now I just enjoy it. Well, tonight, when I got near then end, The Elder started singing along for the first time, and it was just the sweetest thing ever. I often feel as though he and my mother have some sort of weird bond (even though she died two years before he was born), so to hear him sing her song was powerful stuff.

Lyrics, for your reference:

Be sure it's true when you say, "I love you"
It's a sin to tell a lie
Millions of hearts have been broken
Just because these words were spoken
I love you, yes I do, I love you
If you break my heart, I'll die
So be sure it's true when you say, "I love you"
It's a sin to tell a lie

Cross my heart, and I hope to die
I'll never, never, never tell another white lie
Took a little doll out on a date last night
Next to her, Gravel Gertie would've looked all right
Now I'm between the devil and the deep blue sea
'Cause I said, "Baby, you look good to me"
I told her I loved her, but oh, how I lied
And now she's getting set to be my blushing bride
If she leads me to the altar, then I'm sunk
'Cause I can't tell the preacher I was drunk
So lord have mercy on a no-count sinner
Give me one more chance to let another guy win 'er
Cross my heart, and I hope to die
I'll never, never, never tell another white lie
I'll never tell another white lie

Does he know he's 5?

Tonight, during dinner, the elder child informed us of the following:

"100 minus 155 equals negative 55, because when you subtract a bigger number from a smaller number, the amount that's left over is the negative."

Suggested Topic

At my brother's behest, this blog entry is about his balls.

He seems to think I have nothing to say about his balls. And I suppose it's true that I haven't seen them since he was about 5 years old (so, 30+ years). Still...I could not resist the challenge. So here is my blog entry about my younger sibling's testicles.

As far as I know, he has two. I believe they are located somewhere on his body between his knees and his chest. It is probably safe to say that they are more spherical than cuboid.

And this concludes my discussion of my brother's balls. I am proud to say that this is the sum total of my knowledge of this part of his anatomy.

Brilliant Insight from the Toddler Set

An exchange between my 5-year-old and my 2-year-old today, when Daddy offered the 5-year-old his turn at a game:

John: Will, you can have a second turn.
Will: Thank you.
John: It's because you're my best friend.
Will: Then can I have your candy?

Yes, it is a real sandwich!

Peanut butter and syrup. This is the best sandwich on earth, but it may be unique to my mother's family, because everyone else makes fun of me for it. I Googled it, and got a bunch of hits, but none of them do it right. The wikihow referred to "squeezing" the syrup, which, since you should only ever make this with pure maple syrup (indeed, you should only ever eat pure maple syrup in any syrup context), there can be no squeezing involved.

Here is the correct method:

Get two slices of bread, your choice. I prefer potato bread or white bread. You want a kind of bread that will absorb the syrup, and you don't want one with too much of its own flavor to interfere with the heavenly combination you are about to create.

Spread peanut butter (I prefer Simply Jif--no added sugar--but any creamy variety will do) on one slice.

Wipe your knife clean on the second slice of bread and pour somewhere between a quarter-sized and half dollar-sized amount of syrup onto the second slice. Spread the syrup evenly. You have to work quickly, lest the syrup be absorbed before you can reach every square millimeter of bread.

Put the slices together and cut in half, diagonally. (Note: All spread sandwiches, plus grilled cheese, should be cut diagonally. All cold cut sandwiches should be cut horizontally. Do not question, just do.)

Eat your delicious peanut butter and syrup sandwich, and repeat as necessary. Sometimes, you are so overcome by the deliciousness that you cannot be sated by one mere sandwich, and must have a second. It's okay.

I promise.

Shows That Aren't Funny II

The Drinky Crow Show.

I mean, honestly, does my husband have some secret resource that lists the most dreadful TV shows on earth? And does he get season passes for them just to lower my expectations of him?

About Drinky Crow, I just have two words: conjoined triplets.

Not enough eye bleach in the world.