I ate a breakfast burrito, I drank coffee and practiced fogging up my glasses, I ate a salad with beets and pinto beans (and chickpeas and regular peas and carrots), I loved up on Henry and Scout, I filled out my migraine diary for my appointment this afternoon, I gave in and ate some Halloween candy, I failed at conveying how amazing the Nook can be, I put the thumb on a fingerless mitt, and I chugged. I’m not quite sure why the video quality is sort of cruddy this year. My refrigerator is messier, as is the space in front of my toaster oven. Also, it seems that I have done some serious aging in the past twelve months. (I need to do more chugging. More chugging!!!)
As you know, we’ve been talking about getting a sibling for Scout.
Last week, the wonderful woman who helped us adopt Scout sent this link to me. We immediately fell in love with ALL of the puppies, but were most interested in adopting either Brownie (a female) or Scout (a male).
Long Story Shortened Because You Like It Like That: The woman fostering the pups took them to an adoption event today, and she held Brownie and Scout back for us. We got there and pretty much immediately knew that Brownie was a bit too quiet and cuddly for Scout’s aggressive ways. However, I’m pleased to report that Scout and Scout got along famously. Much sniffing and wagging!
Foster Mom: I have to warn you, Scout likes to put his paws in his water bowl and go crazy with splashing!
Foster Mom: Also, he had an umbilical hernia, so you might want to keep an eye on that.
Me: So did our Scout!
(It was meant to be. I shall now adopt every dog named Scout and fill my house with Scouts.)
The girls and I held a quick meeting, where we decided that New Scout (who is 1/2 Beagle, 1/4 Shih Tzu, and 1/4 Brussels Griffon) looks like a Henry Huggins. (We name all of our pets after characters in books.) We filled out the papers, paid the fee, and brought our new family member home, where we’ll all live happily ever after. (Except for the cats, who are sitting in the basement applying black eyeliner, listening to Morrissey, and wondering what the hell is going on.)
We’ve spent the past three weeks becoming familiar with Scout’s puppy quirks.
She is an ankle biter. If I’m in the bathroom, she tends to relieve herself on the floor outside the bathroom door. She loves running full speed under the couch, and has actually ripped up a lot of the fabric beneath both couches. We love her.
Scout’s latest quirk involves digging all of the water out of her water bowl. When the bowl is emptied, she continues to “run” inside the bowl. Because the bowl is stainless steel, part of me believes that she’s trying to engage the puppy she sees in the mirror. Also, part of me is Very Annoyed with this, as I’ve been spending a lot of time wiping up the water.
Last year at this time, my parents presented me with a Disneyland Floribunda Rose Bush. A few days later, I decided to get all floricultural and replant the little bush in front of our house. Within seconds (give or take about a week), all of the roses and leaves fell off of the plant. I was devastated. (Where “devastated” equals “sort of bummed”.) I went to the gardening center and bought some rose food. My rose bush remained twig-like. I watered the bush not too much and not too little. No fruit, no flower, no leaf, no bud union. When winter rolled around, I took a metal bucket, put it over the “bush,” and stepped away for three months.
Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles: When I took the bucket off of the bush in February, I noticed that a few leaves were beginning to sprout.
Three more months have passed, and I now have this:
There are no other buds, so this rose may be my only rose of the season. After thinking the bush was totally dead, I’m okay with a single rose.
Now, please watch this video and know that I am Peter Gabriel, and my rose bush is Kate Bush.
Speaking of videos (which we weren’t, really, but I do appreciate how patient you are with my anemic segues), my kids used to watch the following video over and over (and over) again.
I am here to report that Meredith and Harper’s favorite Bathtime association has been replaced.
Jeff has been in San Francisco this week, which means I’m currently parenting at a level of eight point five. (I normally hover at around five or six.) Eight point five means I often come down on the girls for not clearing their breakfast dishes, I clean the litter box every other day, and I’m prone to say things like “White Castle? Well, OKAY then!”
These Are The Things Jeff Missed This Week:
I melted down at the beginning of the week with that whole Mistake I Made and the aftershock stupidity waves and inadequacy quakes. (Jeff is not sorry that he missed this event.)
Harper took an important test and did really well, and she’s SUPER proud of herself. (We celebrated with White Castle, because I tend to reward achievement with POISON!)
Meredith performed in a reader’s theater production, and it was amazing to see how Capable and Talented seven and eight year olds can be. Afterward, she tried egg drop soup for the first time and loved it! (I have stuffed myself with crab rangoon twice in the past week. Jennifer Hudson is NOT happy with me right now.)
I received the most awesome early birthday present ever from my friend Lisa M. Look at what I’m wearing on my finger.
It’s a Shy Siren ring and it’s my favorite color, and it looks like a pumpkin, and although I’m not one who squeals, I actually squealed when I opened the box. Thanks again, Lisa. I do believe this is the happiest piece of jewelry I’ve ever worn.
Harper’s been walking around with a knee-buckling loose tooth for the past several days. Unlike Meredith, who was always able to simply reach into her mouth and yank out her teeth, Harper, like me, would much rather someone remove the tooth for her as she sleeps. I gave it a try a few nights back, but honestly? My shuddering and dancing and vomiting prevented me from getting a good grip. When she told me that the school nurse occasionally pulls teeth, I joked around that she may not return to my home until she visits Nurse Carol. Let me just say this: Thank God for Teachers. Yesterday afternoon, Harper’s kindergarten teacher sent her down to the nurse’s office, where the nurse reached in, removed the tooth, and placed it in a tiny treasure box, thereby eliminating my perceived need for Xanax and/or Select 55. When I asked Harper if I could take a photo of her to commemorate the loss of her first tooth, she opted for a video so she could reenact The Moment and the happiness that followed.
A few months back, it was brought to our attention that the school district’s literary magazine was accepting submissions, and that this year’s theme was Discovery. I talked to Harper, and she decided that she would love to write a poem. Because her class had recently written a few sensory poems, that style was fresh in her head.
Harper: Discovery smells like pizza.
Me: What kind of pizza?
Harper: Sausage pizza!
Me: Yes! I like that it’s sausage. Where do you get Discovery Sausage Pizza?
Harper: Disney World!
Me: Is there anything else you want to add about the pizza so everyone can picture it in their head?
Harper: It’s JUICY!
We continued back and forth until the poem was written and submitted. I’m pleased to report that Harper’s Discovery Poem was selected for inclusion in the magazine, and she was able to read it at last night’s reception.
Every year, Neil puts together the (always amazing) blogger holiday concert.
Every year, I plan on putting together something really outstanding for you.
Every year, it sort of falls through. This year is no exception.
It occurred to me on Friday that I needed to check the date to see when this year’s submission was due. Yep. Due on Monday. I spent Friday evening thumbing through books and banging around on the piano, and growling at my family because nothing was coming together. On Saturday morning, Jeff took the kids to the store, and I recorded this for you.
My tempo is terrible, I lack emotion, and I’m very hard on myself. I know! If you skip straight over to the 2:30 mark, I won’t be offended in the least. (At 2:30, things start smelling like Bach for a few seconds, and that’s never a bad thing.) (In real life, I smell like Tom’s of Maine Lavender Deodorant. I’m assuming Bach’s scent was a bit lighter on the herbs. When he strolled by to take his place on the harpsichord bench, I like to think the ladies looked at each other with raised eyebrows and whispered, “Do you smell turnips and sausage?!”)
So, missing yesterday really wasn’t that bad, was it? It occurred to me this morning that I want to leave something truly delightful on the top of my page since I’ll be away for the next few days. The following video, although made over three and a half years ago, includes Ira Glass discussing vegetarianism and Regina Spektor. (Ira doesn’t discuss Regina. Regina is actually there—at the 5:30 mark! Sometimes sentences can be misleading!)