You guys, I feel like I’m being totally lazy with the NaBloPoMo thing. I promise to give you more actual STUFF next Month. I promise.
Here is the breakdown of my day:
I sent the kids to school this morning.
At 9:15, I drove to school for a quick meeting.
At 9:45, I drove to school AGAIN for a quick meeting.
At 10:10, I started my freelance for the day.
At 11:45, I had lunch with friends at Flavor of India.
At 1:10, I once again pulled out the freelance.
At 4:00, the girls came home from school. I continued to work.
Dinner at 6:00. (They had sloppy joes. I had a few handfuls of peanuts. Don’t judge.)
At 8:45, I stopped the freelance for the day. And, it’s funny, because if you add up the time I was sitting at the computer, it would look like I worked for about eight hours. BUT, because of the frequent ups and downs associated with phone calls and dogs who pee and dinner preparation and talking to kids, I clocked only three hours and forty five minutes. (I use a stopwatch.) BUT, it was a productive 3.75 hours. All is well.
Good news: I received my tunic in the mail, and when I tried it on, it just seemed really BIG. So, because I’m crazy awkward and have no fashion sense, I took a photo of myself and e-mailed it to Ruche with a message that said something like, “Hey. Does this look right, or are tunics supposed to cling a bit more?” They replied with “All tunics vary in fit and style, and this particular tunic is meant to be worn loose. Personally, I think the size you have works great!” They didn’t tell me that *I* look great, but they DID say that the SIZE works great. I have chosen to take that as a compliment. The end.
On Friday, I sent Meredith to a birthday party wearing only a shirt and tights. (I didn’t realize her legwear wasn’t leggings until she sat down for dinner and I noticed that her “leggings” had a really strong seam up the back side, and that I could see her skin through them.) Party like a rock star, Meredith. Someday I’ll help pay for your therapy.
Speaking of which, I started physical therapy this morning. My current goal is to do a five minute walk with zero swelling. After that? A ten minute walk. When I work up to a thirty minute walk, I’m good to start running a bit. (This could take months.) In the meantime? Exercises! Some of which involve big yellow rubberbands and writing the alphabet in the air with my feet!
In other words, it’s time to stick a Ding Dong on a martini glass and roll around in some 1994.
As you know, I started running on September 7th. I used a Couch to 5K program, and as much as I hated it, I also sort of loved it. (Honesty: I loved when the little voice in my iPod told me that the workout was over. That felt good.)
On Monday, September 19th, also known as Week Three, Day One, I took a tiny stumble. It was just a blip. No pain. I kept on running. Later that night I found that my ankle was all swollen and sore.
Tomorrow marks the eight week anniversary of that stumble, and believe it or not: My ankle STILL feels too weak to run. It still swells up at night. It still wakes me up when I roll over onto my left side.
All of this to say, Heather is a stud, and I’m starting physical therapy tomorrow morning at 9:00. My goal is to be running again before the start of the new year.
The thing about the dogs is that although they’re ready for bed at 10:00 (and so am I), they tend to want to take a break from their crates sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the morning to go outside and do their business. More often than not, they will then return to their crates and sleep until it’s time for the rest of us to get up.
If I get up for their middle of the night bathroom break, I cannot get back to sleep. Jeff has slightly better luck with this.
Here is the current problem: Jeff is out of town.
Last night the dogs and I went to bed at 10:00. At 4:32, they asked if I would take them outside for a quick breath of fresh air. I obliged.
The minute Henry stepped into the back yard, he went batty and started barking like a 25 pound puppy with a man dog voice. Because that’s what he is. I’m horrified at the thought of the dogs waking the neighbors, so I did what anyone in my position would do. I stepped outside and began “scream whispering.”
Me (in pajamas, which is really just a t-shirt and sweats): HENry. HENry. Bananas! Bananas! Puppy treats! Stop! Stop! HENry!
The barking continued. I ran back into the house, grabbed a bag of puppy bones (the treats he isn’t allowed to have because of the food trial), ran BACK out to the yard, and frantically started shaking my bag of bones (literally and figuratively) as I danced around trying to avoid the fresh piles of dog crap.
It seemed like we were outside for at least twenty minutes. When the dogs came in and went back to their crates, I looked at the clock. 4:38.
I’ve been up since 4:38. I’m now within 15 pages of finishing The Marriage Plot, and I’m hesitating to finish it because I don’t want it to end. I have a definite picture in my mind of each of the characters, and I actually CARE about at least two of them, which doesn’t happen very often for me.
Question: How on earth does a family of four afford to see Beauty and the Beast at the Fox Theater? It occurred to me a few months back that my kids would love going to the Fox. When I saw that Beauty and the Beast would be there around Christmas, it seemed like the obvious time to go. Sure, I could go for the $25 tickets that actually cost $29, meaning I would pay roughly $120 for us to go. BUT, Meredith wouldn’t be able to see very well from those seats. For Meredith to actually see what was happening, we would probably need to go with the $52 or $66 seats, which actually cost $60 and $76. (It’s cute how the service charge goes up along with the ticket prices.) During the holiday season (or any other season, if I’m totally honest with you), I don’t have $240 or $304 to spend on an afternoon at the theater. AND, I know that I could go with a local community theater and get the same show for something like 1/10th of the cost, but I want my kids to see a show at The Fox. (Some people want their kids to have at least one hot meal every day. Please know that I know how ridiculous I’m being right now.)
I just ate a pint of blackberries. My second huge cup of coffee is in the microwave. I’m going to take some time today to think about everyone I know who falls into the category of Veteran. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
This morning Meredith presented me with a class selection sheet from which she was supposed to choose three classes she is interested in taking during the second half of the school year.
Here is the description of her first choice:
It’s Your Thing: Are you more artist or engineer? – poet or scientist? – writer or naturalist? Maybe you’re a Renaissance person like Leonardo da Vinci, and you can do it all! Find out and have fun exercising both sides of your brain just like da Vinci did as you fill your own journal / sketchbook with insights, questions, sketches, and things you wonder about while you investigate all kinds of topics from Rube Goldberg machines and juggling to music making and water painting. Select projects that pique your interest because… it’s your thing.
If they offered this class to adults, I would be there. Wearing an owl skirt, perhaps.
(Her second choice involves building robots using an RCX unit and LEGOs. Third choice? Chemistry! Fourth: Greek and Roman Studies. Fifth: Native Americans.)
((By the way, I love that the Native American class is titled They Were Here First. Because, you know, they were.))
This is completely unrelated, but you know how I am: I went down to get the mail today, and there I found the Ben Folds and WASO: Live from Perth DVD. As you read this shoddy update, please know that I’m probably sitting on the couch with a big smile on my face. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
Despite the fact that I felt all self-conscious about my lack of dress-up clothes, Jeff and I left the house early yesterday evening to see Ben Folds play with the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra. In case you’re wondering what I wore, I dressed pretty much like this:
(Three differences: I was with Jeff—not the stiff umbrella man. Also, I wore boots. Finally, there was no need for umbrellas.) ((Have I mentioned lately how much I love Julie at Sungazing Photography?))
We left the house at 6:00 and decided to grab dinner before the show. We were a bit short on time, so we decided all we really needed was something quick and filling that wouldn’t make us feel gross afterward: Fast Food Sushi. (I know!) As we walked into the restaurant, I mentioned to Jeff that it feels like my jacket is a little too yellow for November.
Me: I feel like I’m trying to be that guy who hangs out with Curious George.
We ordered our food and I chose a table near the television so Jeff could watch the Rams game. The table next to ours held two girls crocheting scarves. Ahhhh. All is well. AND, then the radio started playing Upside Down by Jack Johnson. And it’s not a bad song, but it IS on the Curious George soundtrack. Sign from God to take off the jacket? I think so.
Fast forward. Dinner? It was okay. (Since when is a tempura roll not the least bit crunchy? Since last night, I suppose! BUT, I still ate the entire thing, so I can’t complain!) Parking at Powell Hall? Five bucks. How was the crowd? They were stunning. Seriously. The place was filled to the brim with Lovely. Evidence: The first person we saw after finding our seats was Kelli, who is SO smart and witty and lovely and with child! On the other side of my hump (architectural term for the barrier between our dress box and the adjoining dress box) was Carrie! (She’s a knitter and a writer and I’ve never actually met her before, but I’ve admired her for quite some time!) Also at the show? Lisa M., who you might recognize from her comments here. Because of Facebook, we’ve become fast friends, and she’s lovely and kind and is also a writer!
Before the show, I took my camera out of my bag and set it up so I could capture a few shots of Ben Folds. Almost immediately, a little maroon tuxedo-wearing man ran up and said, “I’m going to have to cut you off. There are no photos allowed of the orchestra.” SO, I sat there and bitched to Jeff for several minutes, because the place was FILLED with people taking photos with their smart phones. I almost felt like I was being discriminated against because my phone is below average. (Ah! But I learned my lesson. Surprisingly, very few people were taking photos after the show started. I need to keep reminding myself that seeing a show at Powell Hall is a lot different than chilling out at Lilith Fair. Sorry for my nasty thoughts, Tuxedo Man.)
Hhhhhh. We’re already at 520 words, and I haven’t even started talking about the show. I’ll just say this: It was amazing. Incredible. I’ve seen Ben Folds five or six times over the years, and this was by far my favorite performance. (Close second? Seeing Ben Folds Five at Mississippi Nights in 1997.)
Here’s my thing: I love going to the symphony. I don’t go very often. In fact, I haven’t been since I saw Jon Nakamatsu play with the Nashville Symphony back in late 1999. And that’s ridiculous. I don’t like watching sports on television. The only thing that helps me understand the excitement that so many people feel when they watch a football game is the excitement *I* feel when I watch an orchestra. Swelling dynamics, hidden sparks, musical conversations between strings and brass… I know you’re probably rolling your eyes right now. I get that. Anyway, it stirs me.
Here’s another thing: I’m totally into Ben Folds. Sure, he’s quirked it up over the years and I can barely listen to his latest stuff with my kids in the room, but nevertheless: I think he’s WISE. And ridiculously clever. He sings, I smile. It’s that simple.
One more thing: I’m a sucker for piano-driven bands, and I’m a sucker for classical musicians. When you put these two things together, there I’ll be—beating my hands on my legs and displaying my big goofy grin. That’s a promise.
Instead of trying to explain how wonderful each and every song was, I’ll list what he played (In order! AND, I’ll embed a few because I’m awesome like that!) and link the others up to YouTube as best as I can. If you don’t know Ben Folds, let this act as a primer. If you’re a fan, just sit back and enjoy. If you don’t have time for this, please at least tune in for Narcolepsy. It was my very favorite arrangement of the evening, and I’ve found a video with the West Australian Symphony Orchestra that captures just how mind-blowing (to me) it was.
Here we go.
Zak and Sara (What a wonderful way to start the show. My eyes may or may not have welled up. (They welled up.))
Narcolepsy (Seriously. Watch this one. Tenor alert at 3:24! This one gave me chills.)
(Now it’s time for the orchestra to walk out so Ben Folds can play a few tunes on his own.)
Army Rock it, St. Louis (an impromptu (poor-quality video) response to the jackass who kept yelling “Rock This Bitch!”)
Johnny B. Goode (a little shout out to Chuck Berry, who was seen wearing sweat pants at the airport several years ago) Annie Waits
My only regret? I went to the show with a plan to buy a t-shirt. On the way out, I was so jazzed that I forgot the t-shirt. And now I can’t find them online. Is anyone out there going to a Ben Folds show anytime soon? Do you want to get a t-shirt for me? Adult! Medium or Large! I’ll either PayPal you or I’ll trade you something knitted!
Something to add to the life list: Coffee and doughnuts with Ben Folds. Can someone coach me on how to make this happen? If your advice is magical and I someday find myself with vanilla long john icing on my chin while sitting across a table from Mr. Folds, I’ll knit socks for you! Two pairs, even! Four pairs! (Two pairs.)
Go watch Narcolepsy again, and tomorrow I’ll tell you all about this morning’s mammogram.
(Spoiler Alert: It was negative!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
You know, when I’m in the mood that I’m in right now, I typically don’t log in and write at Fluid Pudding. BUT, here we are less than a week into NaBloPoMo, and I’m leaving the house in a few hours and won’t be back until super late, so now you get to see me cranky. Lucky.
The morning started with me losing a few double pointed needles. And that’s not really a big deal, except I need one of them to finish a project. (I bought a set of five. I’ve been able to find three. I need four.) And, again. This is not a big deal, but when you add the lost needles to the fact that I just wasted nearly TWO hours at a department store trying to find something (anything!) that would serve as self-confidence gear for the event I’m attending this evening, and I came up with nothing, well, it feels big. Honestly? I tried on something like fifteen sweaters and jackets and shirts, and NOTHING looked right. (I kept my pants on, and I’m glad. Otherwise, you would be getting a lot of typos right now because I tend to not be able to type through tears.)
Also, the store was playing Christmas music. I love Christmas music, but when you’re trying to find a jacket that DOES NOT HAVE A BELT and Mariah Carey is screaming at you, it makes for a really crappy three minutes. And another thing: I know parents often have to shop with their toddlers and that’s totally fine with me because I’ve been there, but: Please don’t act like I’m the audience in your little stand-up routine with your kid. If you egg your kid on to say something funny, I might give you a courtesy smile. But that’s it. Don’t keep going. Don’t keep getting louder.
Mom: Brendan, what did you just say?
Brendan: The lady in that picture is pretty.
Mom (looking at me to make sure I’m listening): You think JENNIFER LOPEZ is pretty? DO YOU THINK *I’LL* LOOK AS PRETTY AS HER IN THOSE CLOTHES?
Brendan: Yes.
Mom (still looking at me): BUT *I* DON’T WEIGH 80 POUNDS LIKE J. LO!!! HA HA! ISN’T THAT RIGHT, BRENDAN?!?!
Brendan: Ummmmm…
Me (in my head, obviously): HA HA HA HA! No, you don’t! RIGHT, BRENDAN?!?! NOT EVEN CLOSE!!! HA HA HA HA HA!!!
I couldn’t even find a shirt, although I tried on ten shirts. I shall now log off and say the F word. Twice.
Tomorrow will be happier! It will! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
Monday night was not a good night. Scout woke us up at around three o’clock in the morning by throwing up all over the inside of her crate. Jeff took her outside for some fresh air, and I grabbed the paper towels and started cleaning up the mess. I hope you’re not eating right now. What I found in the crate (other than what you would normally expect with dog vomit) was a few bright red and hard pieces of something. It took me about ten seconds to realize that Scout’s mess contained pieces of her Frisbee! (Sure enough, when I checked the Frisbee, I found it to be pretty chewed up. It has since been recycled. Back to the story.)
Just in case this Eating of The Frisbee would lead to additional complications with Scout, I took one of the larger pieces and placed it in a Ziploc bag. (My thought process? If this causes some sort of blockage, I want to be able to take the Frisbee sample in to show the veterinarian what we suspect the culprit to be.)
Fast forward to yesterday, knowing that Scout had no additional issues throughout the week. Input and Output? Both normal. Are you enjoying your lunch over there? I just had a huge salad with beets and bleu cheese! Okay. Yesterday. Jeff has clients in town, so he was scrambling around in the morning trying to get his stuff ready and to pack the kids’ lunches. (Yep. He packs the girls’ lunches. Gem, that one.) Luckily, everyone got to work and school on time.
At approximately 4:00 in the afternoon, Meredith came STORMING off of the bus. She stomped into the house and immediately began ranting.
Meredith: Do you KNOW how HUNGRY I am?! Do you KNOW that all I had for lunch today was applesauce, pretzels, and one of my Halloween Kit Kats?!
Me: What about your sandwich?
Heh. Heh heh.
Yes.
Because he was in a hurry, Jeff grabbed a sandwich bag off of the counter and tossed Meredith’s sandwich inside without noticing that he was using the Frisbee puke bag. Luckily, Meredith was smart enough to not eat the sandwich. And I know that it’s not funny, but when I realized what had happened, I started laughing. And then I bent over and started crying. And then I couldn’t even speak because I was laughing and crying harder than I have in a LONG time.
(Obviously, this pissed Meredith off even more. However, she quickly cheered up when I offered to make it up to her with pizza.)
Meanwhile, Scout has been begging for a bagged lunch. Turkey and Provolone with a side of regurgitated Frisbee?! I don’t believe it gets much better than that.
(Hey! Before you go, I would like to announce that Schmutziechose me to bring you Five Star Friday! You really should go over and read this week’s selections. I’m so honored to be a part of it all!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
Announcement: Classroom Parties! 2 down, 4 to go! AND, today’s parties were very much okay. Of course, my style is to always focus on the glitches (kids who despise caramel, kids who HATE that I didn’t bring cupcakes, kids who were injured during the popcorn relay, etc.). I’ve made mental notes for the remaining parties (ignore the haters, continue to not bring cupcakes because I have the power to bring (or not bring) cupcakes, no more games that require athleticism and kernels). I believe four other parents (plus my mom) helped out at Harp’s party, and three other parents (including Jeff and Christy) helped out at MC’s party. Day is done, gone the sun, etc.
Wait. One more thing. I took the first graders and had them stand in a circle. I then handed one of them a ball of yarn, asked him to hold onto the end, and then toss it to the other side of the circle. The person who caught it then pinched part of the yarn and tossed the ball at someone else. The end result was a pretty awesome spider web. If I had 20 kids of my own, we would play this game every single day. (That’s just like me to go and get my tubes tied two months before finding the most incredible party game ever. Harumph.)
I’m going to go ahead and give NaBloPoMo a whirl. For those of you who don’t know what that means: It means I’ll be trying to put something up at Fluid Pudding every day throughout the month of November. Last year? Failure. (I made it 20 days before having absolutely nothing to say.) The year before? A huge success, thanks to Harper taking a hole puncher to my cat’s ear.
Anyway. We’ll see what happens. (I’ll TELL you what’s going to happen: Microderm Abrasion!!! Also, a mammogram!)
As you know, I’ve signed on to be the head room parent for both Meredith and Harper.
Our Fall Party is Monday.
This is how it’s going to go down. (Scoot back. You’re about to fall off the edge of your seat!)
The first graders will be decorating plain pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies with icing and sprinkles. They will also eat fruit. They will also eat pretzels. They will decorate terra cotta pots to look like pumpkins. I don’t know what sort of game we’ll play. If I can’t come up with anything, it will be Fall Bingo which might sort of suck, but we’ll see. Perhaps we’ll dance. (We won’t dance.) Maybe we’ll throw bean bags into a bucket. Shall I turn out the lights and let them squirt ketchup on me as I recite Edgar Allen Poe poetry while holding a flashlight under my chin? No! I love six year old kids because they tend to not judge. (At least that’s what I’m telling myself.)
The third graders will be dipping apples into a Crock Pot full of caramel. The child with the apple allergy will have her own Crock Pot with bananas for dipping. There will also be huge gluten-free marshmallows for dipping. And pretzels. Music will play. Everyone will be given a mini pumpkin. If they want to write on it, they can do that. If they don’t, then fine. There are no rules when it comes to mini pumpkins. (At least none that I’ve heard. If you know otherwise, please keep it to yourself.) For a game, they’ll be scooping popcorn from a trash bag into two smaller paper bags using a small measuring cup. It’s a relay! This might be fun. It might be a disaster. I get to go home when the party is over, and six nights later I’ll be watching Ben Folds play with the St. Louis Symphony. I need to lose five pounds and treat myself to a self-confidence shirt. (Every year at this time, I go out and purchase four long sleeved t-shirts (White! White! Black! Gray!), and then I wear the heck out of them all year long. I wear them under SHORT sleeved t-shirts! They’re great under itchy cardigans! I sometimes wear them to bed with boxer shorts! I’ve even been known to wear one long sleeved t-shirt on top of ANOTHER long sleeved t-shirt! THE OPTIONS NEVER END!!! Surprising Turn of Events: Lately, I find that I feel a lot better about myself if I’m wearing a print! Imagine! This year I’m going to skip the long-sleeved t-shirt shopping trip and focus more on who I want to be. Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? I’ll keep you updated. Speaking of which, NaBloPoMo starts up on Tuesday. I still haven’t decided…)
My dogs just destroyed another one of my knitting projects. (Two weeks ago it was a sweater(!!!). Today it was a fingerless mitt.) I really need a higher shelf. Or shorter dogs. They’re totally feeling my anger right now as they run around the back yard playing Frisbee with the girls. It might LOOK like they’re having fun, but deep down they know that The Big Lady is not happy. Enjoy your Friday. Also, Go Cardinals. Please. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
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