Fluid Pudding : Page 81 of 123 : It's the old small talk!

Turkey and Cheese and Oh No.

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 Schmutzie chose 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’>

A friend of ours went to Burning Man.

Here we are. Three days in at NaBloPoMo, and I’m ready to start puking out excuses as to why I’m not Killing It.

This photograph was taken about three minutes ago.

The good news? I’ve now been approved for physical therapy for my ankle, and my antibiotics are waiting for me at the grocery store.

The only rule is to post every day, right? Right!

Tomorrow! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’ve been thinking about Christmas knitting.

As you know, I’m a fan of knitting. AND, I’m a fan of giving things away. Four months ago (Really? Has it been that long?! Yes! It has!), we helped raise some money to get Aaron a bike. I paired up a giveaway with that post, and I’m pleased to report that the fingerless mitts for Peggy are finished.

Oh! But wait! Does Peggy have three arms?

Ha! She does not! Less than twenty minutes after I finished the mitts and soaked them, my beautiful dogs removed one of them from the table where they were drying. The dogs then chewed the mitt and it felted a bit, and I deemed it completely unworthy of gifting. SO, I devoted the next several hours to knitting a replacement. (If you have any one-handed friends, let me know. Now that the chewed mitt has been rewashed and dried, it really doesn’t look that bad! It might make a great water bottle cozy for a long skinny water bottle with a thumb!)

Now that Christmas is around the corner, I took a few minutes of time during my lunch with Tempe (VegaDeli!) and made a quick list of what I plan to knit between now and the holidays. Five pairs of fingerless mitts and five coffee cozies. Fifteen items in a little over seven weeks. With the dogs’ cooperation, it’s nearly doable. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Here we are, and here we go.

Two years ago, I made a quick video to document a day in my life.

I did it again last year.

AND, here we go again.

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!!!)

I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’ll see you, too. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The Parties are Over, Doris Day.

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!)

I’ll see you tomorrow. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore!”

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’>

Maybe if they put cupcakes at the finish line…

It seems that I keep putting posts up and then taking them down because I’ve become severely self-conscious of looking like a jerk or offending a group of people.

This should not offend anyone. (Unless you’re opposed to Halloween. If you’re opposed to Halloween, LOOK AWAY!)

On Saturday evening, we took Hermione and Evil Angel to Boo at the Zoo.

(Evil Angel will eventually have vampire teeth. Her idea.)

It was very crowded, and sufficiently spooky.

After about an hour of walking around (please know that I touched a hedgehog during that hour, which is a first for me), we decided to grab a snack and head out.

My kids are just like me when it comes to food and loving food and feeling especially fond of food that has sugar sprinkled onto the top of it. Sometimes I worry that they’ll eventually share my sort of crappy relationship with food. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and also thinking that I need to start up with the running again. It has been five weeks since I hurt my ankle, and my ankle still hurts. It still swells up at night. I know my doctor said Eight Weeks To Recovery, but I really thought eight weeks was more for people like REAL athletes with REAL injuries—not just a fake runner lady who stumbled. I have a friend who swears that the pain doesn’t really matter. “Just run on it. Just keep running.” (She’s a Real Athlete.)

I know six people who participated in the Rock and Roll Marathon in St. Louis yesterday. I sat here at the computer and tracked them as they were running. I cheered for them as they hit important milestones. Less than ten minutes after one of my friends crossed the finish line and became a Marathoner, I choked on a cupcake. (I took a bite, and when I heard Meredith coming into the kitchen, I shoved the rest of the cupcake into my mouth. I have no idea why. And then I inhaled, and part of the cupcake went down the wrong pipe and I started coughing and the kids thought I was sneezing, so every time I hacked and wheezed, both girls screamed “BLESS YOU!!! BLESS YOU!!!” My friends are running MARATHONS, and I’m beating on my chest in an attempt to dislodge cupcake crumbs from my lungs.)

I need to fix this ankle of mine. Or else just run on it. (By the way, it’s easy to love running when you can’t run. Very easy. I’ve been loving running for five weeks now. I think it’s time to start hating it again.)

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Dear Jeff,

At about 5:30ish this evening, we will have been married for exactly ten years. (We will BE married? We Will Have Been seems incorrect. However, it’s much better than we WOULD have been, yes?) Anyway, ten years is nuts. I’ve never done ANYTHING consistently for ten years, and now this! We’ve reached a decade!

When I think back to our first ten years of marriage, I immediately land on our London trip. Although I used to be able to recite the day-by-day timeline, my memories have now sort of jumbled into a big stew (mulligatawny?) with tiny hints of watching Aimee Mann singing Fourth of July on the Fourth of July and lots of tomato mozzarella sandwiches and Mr. Kipling Cherry Bakewells and the little boy who thought the manhole covers in Bristol were made of chocolate. And then I skip forward a bit and think about OUR kids.

When you marry someone who doesn’t have kids and you don’t have kids, it’s really sort of a gamble when you start throwing around the idea of babies. After giving birth to Meredith, I quickly learned that I am not a good baby person. Although I think they’re mostly cute, I don’t understand babies. I can’t make them stop crying. My patience runs thin when they fill their diapers too much (or worse, not enough). You, however, were a gem. You would come home from work, drop your briefcase onto the floor, swoop up Meredith, and suddenly All Was Well. And then Harper came into the picture (how did THAT happen?!) and I became even MORE frazzled (can you imagine?!), and you became even MORE of a great dad. (Seriously. You’re clever and witty. You have great taste in music. You’re a good cook. All of those things should be good enough. BUT, then you had to throw in Baby Pro and so much more. Smitten, I am.)

During those days when I was home alone with an infant and a two year old, I often found myself wishing (against the pastel-colored advice of others) that I could somehow speed up time to the point where the girls could actually TALK to me instead of pointing and crying and throwing themselves onto the floor where they stomped and spat and frothed. The universe listened.

Here we are. Ten years in. I have you, who I consider to be my best friend and perfect match. I have the girls, who are bright and funny and curious and wonderful. (I have the dogs and the cats, who really deserve much more than a parenthetical aside, but right now they’re being jerks so I’ve demoted them from Paragraph to Sentence.) Essentially, because of what happened ten years ago today, I have the perfect life.

This morning I realized that we’ll be celebrating our twentieth anniversary when Meredith is a freshman in college. And then I started thinking about how she might actually go AWAY to college, and then two years later, Harper will probably do the same, and okay. That pastel-c0lored advice doesn’t seem quite so AM radio anymore. My tenth anniversary gift to you? I’m going to try to figure out how to Slow Time Down. (I’ll begin by limiting my caffeine intake.)

Thank you for the past 3,652 days.

We’ve survived the life expectancy of a platypus.

Here’s hoping we see many more generations of playtpuses/platypi living just as happily as we do.

(Did you know that there is no universally agreed plural form of Platypus?)

I’ll always believe that this song was written for us.

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I still don’t know what the white strappy thing is.

Ten years ago today, I got together with my cousins, my aunt, my sister, my mom, and my mother-in-law.

We went to Olympia, where cheese was set on fire and I did a bit of this:

And a bit of this:

And a lot of this:

When it occurred to my aunt that I hadn’t had a shower that involved underpants, she threw one together two days before our wedding. Jeff and I had just driven in from Nashville a few hours before, and suddenly it was time to sit in front of my mother-in-law and open strappy fuzzy things. Afterwards, we went to Kaldi’s for chai and cookies.

Ten years later, I still love flaming cheese and chai and cookies and Jeff.

But not in that order, obviously.

(Chai will always come before cheese. In my heart, and alphabetically.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Urine for a Surprise!

So, remember yesterday when I mentioned that something in the house smelled like urine? I noticed that the odor was stronger when I was sitting at the computer, which made me think it was something in the kitchen. Later in the afternoon, I noticed that it was pretty terrible when I was driving the car, meaning the smell was also in the car! This morning when I threw on yesterday’s jeans so I could watch the kids waiting for the bus, I noticed that the smell was pretty terrible when I was sitting on my bed putting on my shoes.

When I stepped out of my room, BOTH kids immediately put their hands over their noses.

Meredith: WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!?!

Harper: IT SMELLS LIKE DOG PEE!!!

Me: No. No! NOooooooo!

I quickly ran back into the bedroom and asked Jeff to smell my jeans.

Jeff: Holy! Um, yeah. Your jeans stink.

Yesterday I stood in the elementary school office and talked to THREE different people while exuding a bouquet of urine. I am mortified.

A few minutes ago, I went down to get clothes out of the dryer, and found that the clean (and dry) clothes ALL smell like urine!

Do you remember three years ago when my towels were stinky?! Apparently, the madness never ends.

(Please know this: There is no urine on the clothes. Neither dog has had an accident in the house in quite some time, and the cats no longer go into our bedroom, where the dirty clothes are kept. I haven’t peed in my pants since I attempted to use a Neti pot while pregnant with Meredith. Enigmatic Urine will be my next CB handle.)

((What bothers me the most is the fact that I couldn’t put two and two together to realize that I was a walking sample of pee perfume all day yesterday. I definitely detected the smell more when I was sitting down. In other words: When my NOSE was closer to my PANTS.))

One more thing: I hate when adults walk up to a pregnant woman and call her “Mommy” as in, “When is the blessing due, Mommy?” I will never NOT be creeped out by that. Similarly (not really, but I have nowhere else to put this), yesterday I was at the bank (smelling like pee) when the bank teller had to repeat herself to a customer several times. Finally, the customer said, “I think my ears are full of wax!” She was not joking. Dear Lord, Lady. I don’t know ANYONE with whom I would feel comfortable enough to blurt out ear wax confessions. (I’m still not quite over the fact that Jeff smelled my pee pants.)

And another thing: I felt fine all day yesterday. For dinner, I had a tiny bit of salmon. Within minutes, I was sneezing and all congested and I felt like I was getting a migraine. HOWEVER, within two hours I was back to normal. Jeff thinks it was environmental allergies. I think it’s time to admit that fish DO have souls and perhaps I shouldn’t be eating them. Ever. (I rarely eat them. You can’t really be a full-on vegetarian if you’re eating a fish, right?)

The new Jeffrey Eugenides book came out on Tuesday. (It was delivered to my Nook at 3:06 in the morning. I’ve been dealing with goofy insomnia lately, so I was actually awake and ON the Nook when it arrived. I dove in immediately. Serendipity.) ((Oh! Our closest independent bookstore now sells eBooks. This makes me so happy.)) What are you reading these days?

UPDATED TO ADD: I actually found the story about my Neti Pot! Here it is. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>