How Z took ten years off my life on Thanksgiving Day

We went to my step-dad's cousin's house for Thanksgiving dinner. He and his wife are very sweet, welcoming people, and they always invite us. I overheard them, as we were leaving, say "I'm glad the kids could come." Meaning us. Lol!

Anyway, we were having a lovely time, and around the salad course, I took Z to the restroom. While she was sitting there, she asked, "Will I be as old as you someday?"
"Yes, I certainly hope so. And someday you can be married and have a kid and everything, if you want."
"I don't want to have a kid."
"Okay, then you don't have to. You get to decide."
"Well, I don't have a uterus yet."
"Oh, yeah you do. It's just not ready to have a baby in it, yet."
"How do the babies get there?"
|"Well, the Daddy plants a seed. The mama has an egg, and the seed and the egg have to get together to have a baby. It's like when you plant a seed in the ground and a flower grows."
"Does baby Leah Rose have a seed yet?" [That is the name of a baby that is due next week. We went to visit her parents on Wednesday.]
"Yep, her daddy planted one, and that's how she's growing."
"Oh. Okay."

At that point, she didn't seem to have any more questions and was done with her business, so we went back to the table. I mentioned the conversation, and I said I was glad she hadn't asked WITH WHAT the daddy planted the seed. My stepdad said, "You mean his PORTUGEE RAYGUN?"

Yeah, so then, we had a lovely next several hours. Z played with a couple older girls for a long time, we had the main course and pie (and numerous other desserts), and then there was coffee and Scotch and conversation, and we checked on Zadie a lot and she seemed fine. And then we finally got our coats and went to say goodbye and Z gave big hugs to everyone and then immediately announced, "I have to go potty!" And then I smelled it. She HAD gone potty. And we went into the bathroom, and I will spare you the details, but my requests from my mom, who was running back and forth to the car, included an entire new outfit, wipes, and plastic bags. It was a horror show. I'm seriously traumatized. I don't want to describe it to you, because I know Mommy blogs get a bad reputation for that sort of thing, but when I took off her tights, it was reminiscent of this:

So this Thanksgiving season, Darrel and Sandy can be thankful that we are gone, and my uncle Mick and aunt Jen, who invited us to their home, can be thankful that we declined. I am thankful for wipes, washing machines, and the fact that we have so many pairs of toddler underpants that it was no problem to just burn one.

With so much to be thankful for...

This year I'm passing it on. Who knows, but according to them, I just helped provide 200 holiday meals. From their web site: "Feeding America is proud to share with you our 96 percent Charitable Commitment rating, reported in the 2010 edition of Forbes Magazine’s annual survey of 200 major charities. This rating was determined by the percentage of total financial and product donations devoted to programs."

So that seems like a pretty good deal.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Zadie is lots of different things.

Today on her way to the park, she was riding her bike. It is the longest ride she's ever been on, and she was awesome. She was a little afraid, but she talked herself out of it by pretending to be an orc.

At the playground, she was climbing in such an agile and fearless way that a teenager called her a ninja.

Later, she put on a frilly skirt to walk to the grocery store. A boy on the street commented, "she's a princess!" Zadie walked on a few steps, then yelled, "Actually, I'm a hula dancer, but I'm just not that graceful."

Also of note, I mentioned that she was getting to hear her new clackers (things that slide up and down the spokes) for the first time, and it must make her feel brave. She agreed; "Yeah, it's like bravery music."

Apple Hill

I love holidays! Mainly because I love having time off to spend with the Z-ster.

Yesterday we got up, dinked around over breakfast, and I gave her two choices -- ice skating or Apple Hill. She initially chose skating, but then she changed her mind. So at about 8:30, we hopped in the car and headed out.

Apple Hill is about an hour east of hear, and we had a pretty pleasant drive. I had decided to go early, and I wasn't sure yet whether that was a good idea. High Hill Ranch, which is my usual place, does open at 8, but there's a lot of other stuff there, like a fudge factory and a craft fair. Would that stuff be open? I didn't know.

It didn't matter -- when we got there, we were cold, so we went first into the dining area and enjoyed hot drinks until about ten, so when we were finally ready to go explore the rest of the place, everything was open.

We walked around the fishing pond, ran up and down a muddy set of hills (I bailed and fell on my ass), checked out the pony rides (not quite ready yet) and then went to the Fudge Factory, where there's a little playground. It has an airplane that you can sit on and rock in about six differed ways, and one way it's like a teeter-totter. There's also a wooden train with a bell, two of those things you can ride on if you feed them quarters, and a giant truck tire. All told, a pretty cool playground.

Then she was hungry, and they have apple doughnuts and fritters in the barn, so we went there. I chose about ten pounds of apples (for apple butter, I think), and then we got a fritter the size of her head (literally). She ate all the sugary outside and gave the doughy middle to me.

Then she let me look at the crafts (it's kind of always the same stuff, but I like to check it out), and then we went back to the playground for a while. (A long while, as now there were other kids to play with. She was pretending to be the engineer's helper on the train, and at one point, two new boys wandered up, and she ushered them into seats, saying "Here you go, gentlemen.")

Finally I dragged her away for lunch, and I was very happy with our lunch choice. We usually eat in the large dining room, but the choices there are pretty limited. My only option there is a pretty mundane veggie burger. But in the barn, which is significantly smaller, there were a lot more choices. I went for the veggie sandwich, which came with guacamole, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and cheese. It said it came on whole wheat bread, but if that was whole wheat, I'll eat my hat. Still, it wasn't bad. And Z got chicken noodle soup that came with big fat fettucini noodles, large chunks of dark meat chicken, and lots of diced carrots. It certainly appeared to be homemade. After lunch, we got caramel apples and went to sit by the pond and watch people fish.

We lucked into it, but it happened that when we got our fritter, it was still really early, so there was no line. And at lunch, there were two lines -- one for food and the other for doughnuts. The doughnuts line snaked out the door, but the food line was empty. So we managed to not have to wait in a line all day.

The view was lovely (I forgot my camera and my phone was out of battery, so I can't share pictures), and it was cool, but not freezing. I believe it was in the low fifties. Zadie refused to wear a jacket, and her little nose and cheeks got red, but because she is who she is, she spent a lot of time running, too.

After we finished our apples, she ran up and down the hills some more, and I stood close by and watched. Many other kids joined her, and at one point, some girls suggested that they play tag. Zadie doesn't really get the rules of games like that, so she got tagged and was "it," and went running the other way. The bigger girls decided it wasn't worth playing with her and retreated over by a tree. She went to talk to them, and they looped their arms around each other and one started to whisper in the other's ear. I thought "fuck that," and I called Z and dragged her off to the car. It was time to go anyway. She gets enough of mean girls at school.

Incidentally, if you were to compare our caramel apples when we finished with them, mine would look like a stick with a tiny bit of apple core still stuck to it. Zadie's looked like a perfect green apple on a stick with not a trace of caramel.

I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving. I have a good idea for a tart in mind. Oh! I have to call my uncle back -- we're invited to his place, but we accepted an invitation on the other side of the family.

Okay, take care all!

P.S. I'm still writing my novel for National Novel Writing Month. I'm more or less on track, with 34,000 words out of 50,000 and nine days remaining. I typically write 2,000 words a day, so if I don't miss more than one day, I will reach the goal. Of course, yesterday was hard, because I had started the book thinking that my character was going to go to jail and get disappeared and have adventures and stuff, and when she finally actually went to jail, it just didn't work for me anymore, and I had her released the next morning. So then it was like, "now what?"

Veteran's Day

I appreciate veterans for more reasons than the day off, but I also appreciate the day off.

I still got up early to go to the gym, but then I fooled around on the computer, had an extra-strong cup of coffee, and ate homemade bread with homemade jam and feta cheese for breakfast.

We cleaned the house so we could rest more today, and then Z and Sweetie walked to Starbucks and the game store. While they were gone, I put together a freestanding shelving unit, took down some wall-mounted shelves, cleaned out my cookbooks a bit, and made myself a pantry!

I grew up with a pantry, and every place I've lived in since has felt a little inferior. This kitchen, while laid out pretty nicely, has almost no room for appliances (food processors, mixers, etc.) and not a lot of cupboard space for food storage. I put a big shelving unit in the garage, which did help with space issues in there, and I was able to put my Crock Pot, Kitchen-Aid Mixer, ice cream maker, and a few other things in there. Then I started canning, and I needed space as well for my canning pot, jars, lids, canned stuff... I took up two whole shelves of the big storage unit with stuff that really should have been in a pantry.



So here is the after! (I didn't take a before, but as of a week ago, the washer and dryer were side by side in the middle of the space, there were mismatched and broken garbage and recycling containers, and two shelves mounted with my cookbooks on them, so heavy they sagged in the middle.

I went to my mom's for a little while, but the person I was supposed to meet had screwed up the day. Still, it wasn't like I had any big plans, and I got to engage in a bit of Shadenfreude as mom's awful neighbors found their moving van blocked by a car. Then I went home, made harissa, baked some bread, threw together a batch of cookie dough, had a cup of tea, looked over my cookbooks for ideas, and made a grocery list. I also did a few little jobs in the yard, including planting carrots.


Cup of tea.


Yay cookbooks!


The bread.


Soaking the peppers for harissa.

Z and I went shopping, first at Trader Joe's and then at Save-Mart (there are a few things TJ's doesn't carry). And then it was almost dinner time, so I jumped in the shower. We all went to Shoki for ramen, and then we came home and I baked the cookies. Then it was bedtime for Z. I finished up the cookies, had a glass of wine, and did some writing.

The value of literature

It may seem like a Faustian bargain: trading the teaching of literature for increased test scores. After all, attempting to raise test scores as the bar is continually raised may seem like a Sisyphean task. Even a gain over a single year might be a pyrrhic victory. But at high schools throughout the country, teachers are facing a catch-22: if they teach with passion about a subject they like, they are failing to prepare students for the brave new world of education, one where literature takes a back seat to expository text. English teachers cling to literature, but it will prove to be the albatross around their necks.

So let me make a modest proposal: stop teaching English literature altogether. There is no thought police – citizens can still choose to read whatever they like. But when it comes to the value of literature, I’m a doubting Thomas. When has familiarity with literature ever helped anyone understand anything? It’s all Greek to me. I don’t mind to sound like a Scrooge to those who love books, but I just don’t see how literature continues to be relevant to Generation X and beyond.

So lend me your ears: I assure you that something is rotten in the state of Denmark. These teachers are insisting on their beloved subject not being cut. What a piece of work is man! They say that students need literature, and that the focus on passing tests isn’t important. This kind of talk is madness, yet there is method in it: they want to keep their cushy jobs where they get to talk about made-up stories all day. But the truth will out! The game is up, English teachers! Because brevity is the soul of wit, I’ll end here. But I’ll leave you with a thought from Mark Twain: “Literature is well enough, as a time-passer, and for the improvement and general elevation and purification of mankind, but it has no practical value.”