Funny day

I dropped off Z yesterday and decided to get a 2nd cup of coffee, which is a pretty rare event. I was glad I did, though, because I got to see someone get a surfboard out of a Saturn. Then I was complimented on my spider brooch. And they had tiny Milk Duds on the counter, so I said "Trick or Treat" and they let me have the wee box! Then I got in the car and Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina" was on. It was definitely the beginning of a good day.

At school, my first two classes were all gone for a Key Club event, so there were only 3 or 4 kids there. In 1st period, we just talked, but in 2nd, I taught two of the boys dominoes (and kicked their asses).

Also, I recently instituted "high-five Fridays," wherein I jog around campus high-fiving any adult who'll raise their hand. I made it all the way from the C wing to the J wing and got at least 30 teacher high fives. They probably think I'm crazy, but I think I'm CRAZY AWESOME!

After school I chatted with a student who told me at great length about the Key Club event, which had involved a haunted house for 1st graders. She was legitimately thrilled that she had made about ten kids cry. I know the kids crying isn't funny, but my student was so enthused about it I just laughed my ass off.

After school there was a party, so I went to pick Z up. Mom informed me that her class had gone on a costume parade around the block. Zadie was yelling to the neighbors, mostly things like "There's no place like home!" But then she waved and yelled "We're just kids from the local school!" It cracked me up then, and later, Mom forwarded an email from Z's teacher, which read (in part), "Zadie was just too cute for words today! My favorite line all day ..."we're just kids from the local school!" ;)"

Then at school, she was SO excited to hang out with my kids. She latched on to one girl in particular, calling her Rapunzel because of her long hair. She wanted to spin, to play ring around the rosie, and to get piggyback rides. At one point, she told the girl she wanted to lay on her, so the girl laid down on her stomach on the floor. Then Z started getting bossy, trying to push her over onto her back. The girl was laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and noticeably nervously. I told Zadie "Honey, you have to respect people's bodies. If she doesn't want to roll over, don't push her." Zadie announced, "But she's laughing anyway!"

Also, she went straight to my desk at one point and dug out a cough drop. She pops it in her mouth and I said "Honey, you don't need cough drops right now." With a crowd of kids watching (and I point this out because she was totally playing to the crowd), she says "Well, I cough a lot!" The kids laughed and she faked a cough to prove it. They were dying.

I actually got in a couple funny lines myself this week. We were talking about having to give the Title IX sexual harassment training. My kids didn't understand what innuendo meant, so I said that "That's what she said" jokes were an example. I mentioned it to my colleagues in a small group that afternoon, and they all laughed. A moment later, a male coworker, talking about the training, said "I'm looking forward to doing it." Yeah... I said "That's what she said."

Then that night, we had band practice, and the drummer was pulling his usual pussy bullshit: "I don't know this song. Guys, can we do something else? I don't know this one..." I said "Jeff, it's just in 4/4 time." He said "Well, I wish I knew what that was." I said "I wish you knew what 4/4 time was, too." One of our guitarists laughed to the point of tears.

All right, that's about it. Z is supposed to have soccer today (even though it's a bit wet out, it's apparently not cancelled). I have some cleaning to do around here, and then there are a bunch of Halloween-y activities I'm considering, like a thing in Old Sacramento, a thing at the Zoo, a thing at ArtBeast... I'd most like to see the sugar skulls on display, but I think Z would prefer candy and a train ride.

The Godfather

I've heard about the film all my life, basically, but I've never seen it. I finally watched it on Netflix, and I have a few observations.

Now I know where a TON of lines come from, particularly "take the cannoli."

I always thought the horse head was on the pillow.

I had no idea it was set in the 40s. I think I thought it was set in the 70s.

That thing people do when they're impersonating Marlon Brando? Dead on. It was seriously like he had dentists' gauze stuffed in his cheeks. Why did they do that? Was it meant to be some sort of speech impediment? A stroke?

I totally understand the Animaniacs better.

Mom had mentioned that the best part of the film was watching Pacino's transformation. But I didn't really know what I was in for. Pretty much every film I've seen him in has been from the last 20 years, and he's been a big-time scenery-chewer in all that time. I had no idea he could be quiet and subtle. Frankly, that part could have been played by Dustin Hoffman or Mathew Broderick -- think mild-mannered charmer. It was pretty impressive.

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That's about it for the movie. Life around here has been good. Our bathroom is almost done, Zadie got a new haircut today, and the weather has turned quite cool.

The other day we were playing our usual blanket-related games (making forts, castles, etc.) and I suggested we switch to another blanket, as Z's down comforter was emitting tiny bits of down every time she jumped on it, and I kept getting them up my nose and mouth. I described them as puffballs. Somehow, this traumatized the girl, and she will no longer touch the blanket at all. She screamed her head off when I tried to lay her on it. I also had to talk her down earlier after I described her winter coat as "puffy."

So then I was at my insurance agent's office today. As I was getting ready to leave, the gal said they had coloring books, and I should take one. I did, and it wasn't until I was walking to the car that I realized it was about safety around dogs, and it was called "Fido! Friend or Foe?" I think if she's going to freak out about puffballs, I'm not going to tell her about dog attacks just yet.

She's been waking up really early, and in fact, it's backed right up into the middle of the night. It seems like she often tells me it's because she peed or has to pee (both of which mean it's already done). It's a pain to get up, change her, and put her back to sleep. On the other hand, it also feels like it's one step closer to either nighttime dryness or her getting up herself to pee and not needing a diaper at all. I figure that will still be at least a year (and probably more) away, but it's still kind of nice to think about -- an end to diapers!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the way, I watched the Glee Rocky Horror episode tonight. Oh my gosh, sometimes I repress all the weekends I spent performing that, but it was all brought back tonight. I kept thinking things like "Oh, good tank!" and "Those shorts aren't right." But I liked the new arrangements, particularly for Dr. Frankenfurter's entrance song and Magenta's part of the Time Warp. If this all reads like Greek to you, just move on. It was fun for me.

Dee!

The picalilli recipe...

Another (mostly) lovely Saturday

Well, Z's been a little cranky lately, so I don't want to gloss over the fact that we had a couple SERIOUS tantrums today. Nevertheless, we had a good time, too. We made refried beans, watched Ponyo, went to Costco, put family pictures in frames, ate popcorn, built a fire, cuddled in our jammies, painted our nails in Halloween-y colors, and cleaned the house together. She also went on a walk with Daddy, they read a book about ancient Greece, and before bed they looked at a book about the ocean.

I was really hoping she'd like Ponyo -- I LOVE Miyazaki films and had heard that this one was pretty kid-friendly (as opposed to some of the others). She totally loved it. As soon as the end credits rolled, she asked whether we could watch it again. I think I might buy it, or at least put it on her Christmas list.

Last night was lovely, too. Jenny came over and we had a big Greek mezze-stlye dinner, then I made pumpkin bars.

I'll have to show you our new picture display soon. I keep going to people's houses and seeing big displays of family photos, and we had exactly one photo framed and displayed -- a wedding picture. I really like that feeling the displays seemed to express, that we are proud of our family and love to look at them and each other. I mean, I loved the other stuff we had out, too -- mostly of the decorative variety -- but this makes me feel all warm and smooshy.

Hope you're well. Congrats if you're a Giants fan. I am just knowledgeable enough to know that we aren't talking about the New York football team. It sounds like it's turning to Autumn just about everywhere (uh, other hemispheres excepted), so stay warm and enjoy your blankets and tea, as I am.

Coprophobes read no further!

Zadie was asking me this morning why when she pooped, it seemed to make her pee. I said that I didn't know, and, in the manner of two-year-olds everywhere, she asked about four more times. Finally, I asked what she thought. She said "I think when I poop I have to pee because POOP is MAGIC!

2 cutes

We called Z's grandma last night, and Zadie told her "You're sweet, and you have stinky feet."

This morning, she woke up early and saw me getting into the shower. Since we've stopped nursing, I've been careful to stay covered up so the boobies don't give her ideas, but as soon as she saw them today, she started asking to nurse again. I said no, and I squirmed out of her reach. Anyway, a minute later, I see her poking her own boobies, and she says "When I grow boobies, I'm going to have two babies and I'm going to nurse them from my boobies."

Apple Hill

Well, we had a tremendous stupendous day today, despite some early hiccups.

Zadie and Sweetie went to soccer, and apparently she listened very well. While they were gone, I installed a bell and streamers on her bike, which were a big hit.



Then we got ready to go, programmed the GPS (I know how to get there, but sometimes I just like to have backup), and hit the road! About a mile and a half before our turn, a sign appeared that said "Apple Hill use exit 48 or 54. Free shuttle." I thought "That's nice, but no thank you." I proceeded to my turn, and it was blocked by cones. Hmmm. The GPS recalculated, and I know that it's possible to get back to the place I wanted to go, High Hill Ranch, from the next street as well. That turn was also blocked. I saw the highway sign again and realized it was more than just a suggestion or friendly offer. They were going to make me take the damned shuttle.

I started feeling pretty cranky. I had a portable potty with me for Z that I wasn't going to be able to carry, but I was thinking we could just head back to the car when she needed to use it. I wanted to buy stuff, but if we took a shuttle, I'd have to carry it everywhere. And furthermore, shuttles are damned slow. How much extra time was this thing going to add to our outing?

When I got to the park and ride area, I looked at the map of the shuttle route and got even crankier. I am not the kind of person who usually lets my annoyance show, but I'm afraid it probably did today. The ranches are all numbered, so in the usual pamphlet you get, it's easy to find a ranch and figure out what it has. There are charts for what produce you can get there and for what amenities they have. The shuttle map was also numbered --- just not with the same numbers. So to find out which place I should stop at if I wanted, say, crafts and lunch, I had to look at the shuttle map, find the next number on the route, use the legend to find the name of the place, then browse the other pamphlet, searching for the name, in order to find out what it has. Oh, and of course it's not in alphabetical order, either. It took forever.

I had ruled out High Hill because I'd actually have to change buses, since it was on the West route and the woman I picked up the map from had said "I heard it's taking a long time to get to High Hill today." I found another place that seemed to have a lot of stuff, called Apple Ridge. When we got to the stop before it, though, the place didn't have much listed on the brochure, but was visually appealing and boasted a "nature walk" to nearby farms. I asked the driver if it was easy to walk to Apple Ridge, and he pointed and said it was right ahead. We hopped off and immediately got Zadie's face painted. I had brought a wad of cash, thinking that we would just do whatever we wanted, so I was kind of nudging her to the bigger designs, but she just wanted a lollipop. She was also crazy in love with those silly headbands with the long ribbons streaming down the back. Since both the headbands and the face paint were so inexpensive, I just got both.


(I know this doesn't show the lollipop well, but look how happy she is!)

There really wasn't much else there. A gift shop sold kitschy kitchen goods, a few crafters sold folksy crafts, and there was a guy with an emu. He was letting people pet it, and Zadie seemed to want to, but she was a little nervous. She told me later that it's because we aren't around emus all the time. Her solution? We should never be around an emu again.

We then walked to Apple Ridge, and the first thing inside the gate was a pony ride. I had been talking up pony rides, and twice around the track was only $6, which I thought was really reasonable. But then there was the "Cowgirl Princess package" which was considerably more, but included a necklace (or gun -- I didn't give her that option), bandana, and hat, and she could choose what she wanted.


Does she look a little worried? When she came around the first time, she told me she was scared. I said "You're okay up there." She replied emphatically, "No, I'm NOT okay up here!" But the track was like twenty feet long, so I figured she'd be fine for one more go-round. When she got off, she complained "This is just not my day."

Then we ran around a pumpkin patch. I didn't want to get one, because we're growing our own. Not to mention the whole shuttle thing.


Next we got some lunch. Somehow I had forgotten that, apples and desserts aside, Apple Hill's eateries are about the least vegetarian-friendly places I've been in two decades. One reason I always like High Hill is that they actually have a veggie burger. Every place else, including this one, has meat, meat, and meat. I got nachos for lunch, and by nachos, I mean chips and canned cheese. Zadie wanted some, and I was like "Baby, I'm sorry, but this is all I have to eat!" She actually had a really delicious-looking chicken sandwich with lots of produce.


After that, I really wanted a caramel apple. I LOVE them, and usually get one about once a year. Zadie said she wanted pie. I thought about splitting something, but I asked again if she might want a caramel apple, and she insisted that she wanted pie. So I got one of each and let her have her own pie. I should have known better. We started out by sharing my apple, and after she got kind of R-rated on it, I gave up and ate the pie. (Seriously, though, she had her tongue all over it and even grabbed it by the back of the head, er, the back... it was gross.) I don't much like apple pie (except Mom's), but it was sweet and apply.


Then we fed a goat and a sheep (it was supposed to be for her, but she chickened out, so I let a sheep lick my hand -- the things we do for love), took some pictures, walked on straw bales, bought apples (yes, there are actually apples at Apple Hill!), and had a good talk about why men can use urinals in the Porta-Potty. Then we got the shuttle, and it didn't really take too long to get back to the car.

This evening, all three of us went to Shoki Ramen House, and we had a great meal. Finally we had a walk and a bath, and thus concludes a near-perfect Saturday.



P.S. While we were eating lunch, she announced "I'm not the guy I used to be." On the way home, she told me "That was the bestest bestest bus ride ever, and we're going to do it again when we go to Apple Hill!"

Tub or Astro-Tub?

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

I drew this so my cousin could see what I wanted done with the tile. At the bottom there is the tub, the checkered line is a line of tile, the central trapezoid is a soap-holder, and the sides are the sides of the shower/tub enclosure, showing that I have no concept of perspective.

But did you notice? Does it TOTALLY look like an angry Japanese animation character? The hash marks are eyes, the checkers are a bandana around the forehead, the tub is a yelling mouth (imagine a uvula and tongue in there), and the soap holder is a nose. Now that the tile is mostly up, I might just go ahead and draw in the tongue and pretend it was intentional.

Zadie and stuff

This morning, I put Z's rhinestone sandals on. She whips them off and says "I want my sparkle shoes on." I said "But those have sparkles." She says "Well, they're the wrong kind of sparkles." I say "But you used to love those shoes!" She says "Well, I did, but now I growed up and I like these sparkle shoes."



Last night she agreed to try riding her bike for the first time in a long time. She is finally tall enough! She walked, straddling the sissy bar, most of the time, but for a brief period she did actually sit on the seat. A couple times she stopped briefly, and I looked at her questioningly. She said "Oh, I just tooted for a minute. Did you hear it?"

We went about 3/4 of the way down the block, but she was so excited about our destination that eventually she hopped off and ran. We were going to meet the new/old neighbors. They moved out of their duplex just before they had a baby a little over three years ago. But then they had to walk away from their mortgage on the house they had moved into in Folsom, so they came back here. I've talked many times to the husband, but the wife worked nights, so I didn't really know her. They're really nice people, though, and they have a daughter named Olivia who is about 9 months older than Zadie. Sometimes Zadie can be a little shy or weird around new kids, so I was watching carefully for signs of we-should-go-now, but they got on like gangbusters. They were giggling and sharing toys in no time. Olivia has a purple jeep that apparently she doesn't usually like to ride. They got it out to see if Zadie would ride it. She loved it!


I had a couple poetic moments yesterday. When I headed out for the gym at 5, it was dark, but I could see that the very large doormat in front of the funeral home by my house was bunched up oddly. I looked more closely, and there was a homeless man sleeping under it, using it as a blanket. The doormat is inscribed with one word in large font: dignity.

Recently, we went to my friend Guitargirl's (soon to be Nursegirl!) birthday party. It had a "Jesus and Tacos" theme (don't ask). Zadie got a small bible out of the pinata, and I haven't quite known what to do with it. I mean, I'm not religious, but you can't recycle a bible, right? Anyway, it's been on a shelf, and yesterday Zadie picked it up, tucked it carefully into my work bag, and said, "In case you get lost."

Our bathroom/plumbing wasn't-a-remodel-but-is-sort-of-becoming-a-big-deal project is going swimmingly. The water pressure is better. The new dual flush toilet is installed and works great. The tankless water heater is installed and is, I think, faster than the old one (although all we had heard, except from my mom, was that they were slower). The first few rows of tile have been installed. I cleaned up the area that had been covered by the old toilet for, oh, 60 years, but is now exposed (there was quite a crust buildup). It looks like we're going to have to have a sewer cleanout installed. I don't know why we don't seem to have one, but we don't. And that made the sewage emergency we had last weekend rather difficult to deal with. Luckily, we've got my cousin Brian doing work for us, and he works pretty cheaply. I really haven't had him do much for us before, and I think I had the impression that he was kind of an unskilled worker, but in fact, he really seems to know his shit. Of course, my prevailing image of him is still from his first birthday, and he's almost 30...

I became a union rep for a couple reasons -- to help protect my colleagues, both individually and collectively, and to increase communication between our site and the union. What I didn't realize is how totally one-sided the union leadership wants that communication to be. On every meeting agenda, they schedule "rep concerns" last, and I don't think I've attended a single meeting where they've gotten to it before about 5:55 (and yes, the meeting is supposed to be over at 6). Today the message seemed to be "here is what we want you to know, here are the things we want you to do, here are the ways we need your help, here is some information we want to convey, and, yes, Damian? Oh, rep concerns? Oh, it's 5:58? Okay, well, go ahead." I'm not looking forward to sending out this week's meeting notes, which will essentially consist of "Hey, remember that giant pay cut you took? Well, they're hiring 28 new teachers and giving teachers at five schools about $20,000 extra over the next two years. Oh, and could you pretty please come phone bank for the election? After all, we're working for you, and the union represents all of us."

That's the main stuff on my mind right now. I'm invited to band practice tonight, but I am SO TIRED. Plus, if I have any energy tonight, I'm inclined to tidy up a little. It seems like if I don't clean a little each day, the house just turns into total chaos.

Take care.
CM

Kidical Mass

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

My friend Warren organized Sacramento's first Kidical Mass ride just a few blocks from my house on Saturday. It was really fun. Older kids rode their bikes, lots of little ones were in trailers or seats, and quite a few were on training wheels, balance bikes, and various other wheeled geegaws. We all decorated up our nameplates first, and then we set off for a very short ride down M street. It was perfect weather and a fun event. Zadie wanted to spend most of the time before and after at the playground, which was fine, too. She asked a little boy if she could get on the back of the airplane very politely. Later on, some older boys (6 or 7?) were playing tag and arguing over who would be it. Although Zadie didn't address them or call out to them, I heard her announcing quietly "I'm it. Zadie's it."

This weekend has been sort of a bust otherwise. Apparently she didn't listen well at soccer, she hasn't been napping much so she's been very tired, and today she barely ate a bite. I think those bottom 2-year-molars are finally coming in, because it's unlike her to not eat. She's also been waking up at night again, and this morning she woke up at 6 and wouldn't go back to sleep. We even took her to Opa Opa because she has been interested in Greece lately, and I'm not sure she tasted anything at all.

Then this morning, we were planning to go to Apple Hill, but the sewer line backed up into the house. At first it was just threatening to overflow the shower and toilet, and then it actually did. Our bathroom floor was covered in brown mystery water. MAJOR props to Sweetie for cleaning it up (I was going to do it, but wanted to wait to change into grubby clothes until the plumber was gone, because I still had to pay him... or so I thought).

Anyway, the bad news is, we probably need some serious work done to the sewer line. The good news is, today's visit was a freebie! Seriously -- they can only charge for cleaning out the line if they clean out the line. But our only access was through the roof, and because of insurance regulations, he couldn't go on the roof. And he could have done a video inspection of the line, but he couldn't get the camera past the first turn for some reason, so he couldn't charge us for that. Nevertheless, when he left, he'd been here for almost two hours and our problem had gone away. (I'm sure he would never have violated any regulations that involved the roof, right? Even if he was a really, really nice guy. Wink wink.)

Azadeh has been really thrilled with one thing this weekend: she got new shoes. Mom brought them over, and they're sneakers, but red and sequiny, so they fit the Dorothy Gale from Kansas vibe without being uncomfortable or slippery. She did a little jumpy-dance over them.

I guess that's about it. She's a really affectionate kid, and it's really gratifying. She's always hugging me, sitting on my lap, or, as she did this morning at the farmer's market, pulling my shirt sleeve aside to "massage" my shoulder. Although we didn't get to go to Apple Hill, we had a good time today. I just felt bad because I had already totally talked up pony rides and face painting and we ended up folding laundry and mopping up sewage.

Booyah! I am thrifty!

Okay, so I tried to find a match for the tile in my bathroom, to no avail. I found one that would be close, but totally out of my price range.

I went on Overstock.com and found a great deal on mosaic tiles, paid $360, and when they got here, they were totally wrong. It was my fault: there were two that were quite similar, except that one was the wrong colors and unglazed. In the picture, though, it was identical to the other. Anyway, it was in the "recently viewed" and said "B&W tile" (which I took to mean black and white), and so I clicked without reading the fine print. Luckily, they take returns. I just have to eat $60 for the shipping.

Anyway, then I priced tile at Home Depot and a few other local places. Most of the plain 4x4 tiles were around 95 cents each, and I was going to need around 700. I was willing to pay that, but didn't really want to.

A friend suggested the Habitat for Humanity Re-Store. It has a lot of stuff -- salvaged, leftover, etc. I wasn't super-hopeful, but I thought I'd at least stop by before I went to Home Depot.

They had a lot of tile. Because I needed so many, I balked at grabbing handfuls of the tables and loading up a cart, but towards the wall were a bunch of boxes, some opened, some not. I grabbed a box and found white 4x4 tiles, a bit glossy. Perfect. I started grabbing every box with the same brand name that looked like it was full of the same tiles. But then I picked up some and thought they looked... whiter. I held them up and realized the ones I had were "biscuit" and the new ones were "gloss white." I liked gloss white better, so I started picking up all the tiles and comparing them to see if they were gloss or biscuit. Soon I had boxes and boxes of lustery white lined up. And then I realized that some of them were glossy and some were matte.

I liked glossy better, so then I started tilting all the tiles up and down to see if they were shiny. And then I realized that some were bumpy and some were flat, so I started running my hands over all of them to check to make sure I was getting the flat ones. So I was comparing, tilting, and feeling up every tile, which got tedious. I was also wearing polyester and it was 85 degrees out, so I was sweating my balls off. I took a different tack: I started stacking up full boxes that had labels only. I didn't give a shit whether they were "designer white," "gloss white," or "gloss ice white" as long as there were seven boxes of them. It turned out that there were enough of the gloss ice white for my whole bathroom, so I filled a cart and took them to the counter.

Their price list posted near the tile area didn't include 4x4 tiles, so I really wasn't sure how much they would be, except that I could sort of deduce from the prices of the other sizes that they wouldn't be too much. I had about 750, and I went to the counter. They asked how many I had, and I said I wasn't sure: there were 100 per box and I had 4 full boxes and three that were missing a few -- 20 to 30 each. They gave me the full boxes for $12 and the open ones for $6.

You read that right -- I paid $66 plus tax for almost 800 tiles. I think that more than covers the shipping cost to Overstock.com.

Incidentally, I'm pleased as punch about all this, which might explain something about me. I think people look at me and how happy I am and how great my life is and think I just have everything handed to me. Actually, if you really think about it, this whole thing was a pain in the ass: I researched for ages to find a matching tile and was disappointed. I fucked up the Overstock order, lost money on it, and had to take extra time to haul 140 pounds of tile to the UPS store. Then I sweated my balls off to find enough tile to use and again lugged 140 pounds onto a cart (and off on and on to and off of) and into the car and into the garage. The white tiles were my third choice. But in the end, the story I'm going to tell is about how I saved money, supported Habitat for Humanity, and am perfectly happy with my new tile. It's not so much that I get everything handed to me (although I admit that I am VERY lucky), as that I'm happy with whatever I get.

Probably shouldn't... but gonna.

So right before school started, I sent an email to Co-worker D saying "Hey, can I get X* for my students? I know you're busy, but when you get a chance."

No reply.

A week later. "Hi! I know you're still really busy, but can we schedule a time to get X to my students?"

No reply.

A week later. "Hi there. I was hoping we could get in to get X for my students. When do you think you might have time?"

No reply.

In desperation (we REALLY needed X), I asked around, and someone else said "Well, I have heard you can go through Co-worker B. Try setting it up with her. Then you can check out X in [her designated space]."

I did. It worked! In just a couple days, we had X. Co-worker B had asked that I simply give her a list of the last four digits of the serial number of X that each student got. I made an Excel spreadsheet with each student's name, ID number, and the four digits. But it was Excel, so it erased the initial zero in numbers like "0314."

I sent the document to Co-worker B, and in the single bit of text in the email, I wrote, "Thanks! Here's the list. I hope it helps. By the way, if the first digit of any number was zero, it dropped it off. So if it's only three digits, the first digit is zero."

Later, I get some panicked phone calls, because no one knows what to do with this list! There are supposed to be FOUR numbers, but there are only THREE! I explain the Excel thing, but it falls on deaf ears. I assure them I will fix it. I go back into the spreadsheet, put the letter O in front of every number, and send it again. (I know I could have made them decimals, or if I had really given it some time, could have probably changed the settings, but I was in a hurry.)

And then I see Co-worker D, who has been involved in the GREAT THREE-DIGIT PANIC of 2010, and who informs me that I should always go through her, not through Co-worker B. She is definitely the one to see. Contact her. She can see why I might think B is the one to go to, since they deal in similar areas, but I should definitely always schedule these sorts of things with D.

I smile and nod and do not mention the multiple emails I sent over most of a month trying to get her to schedule me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And also? Last year, this chick asked me to organize and chaperone a field trip. It was last minute, so I busted my ass getting stuff done. At every turn, I'd find out some paper had to have been filed already, so I'd go to her and ask about it, and she had already done it. I began to seriously question why I was busting my ass to do all this work if half of it was already done. But she asked me to get about fifty students to go. This is a pretty major undertaking, as you have to get all of them permission slips, then collect them all, and most of the students were ones I don't know. And as I was collecting them, kids whom I HADN'T given permission slips to kept turning permission slips in to me. Because the chick had printed up her own and handed them out, so that we ended up with well over 50 kids who had permission to go, and a bus scheduled for fifty. And at the last minute, she asked if I wouldn't mind NOT chaperoning the super-fun field trip, since they had plenty of chaperones.

Needless to say, I am not the chick's biggest fan.

But I try to let bygones be bygones. Today she said "Oh, hey! I know you run poetry club, so do you want to spread the word that I'm holding an open mic on October 21st? It's after school in the cafeteria." I said "Oh gosh! In that case, you should talk to Student X, because he really wanted to organize an open mic that day, but I told him he'd have to find chaperones, since the teachers are all in a meeting." She agrees she'll try to find him to talk to him.

The next hour, I see Student X and I mention the open mic. He looks puzzled, and says "Yeah, I know. That's MY open mic." We try to sort out which one of us is misunderstanding the other, and he says he approached the chick to tell her about his idea and asked her if she'd help chaperone. I said I had mentioned talking to him about it, and that she had reacted as if the open mic was all her idea.

Later on, I happened to be a short distance away when I saw the chick approach Student X. She was like "Oh, I heard you might be interested in coming to my open mic." I was so proud of him. He answered "Yeah, that's MY open mic. I approached you about it last Friday. We talked?" She said she didn't remember.

So this chick? I'm giving her a wide berth. She is probably very good at what she does or something, but my interactions with her happen to have been sucky.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

In funny news, I decided that, although we had only five people who wanted to be union reps and five open positions, I would go ahead and run an official election. I don't need anyone busting my balls over shit like "election by acclimation." So I had a half-sheet of paper that said "Vote for up to five," then the five names. Three of the nominees were voted for unanimously. Two of them were decidedly not. I won't say who, but one of them was someone who I believe I have referred to in these annals before.

I think the great news, though, is that for the first time in MY memory, we actually have five reps! We're always entitled to five, but usually people aren't interested, so last year, until I stepped up, there was only one. Most of the rest of the time I've been there, there were two or three. To toot my own horn a bit, I do think there's an element of... how can I put this?... Well, let's just say I'm a little more charismatic than the longtime rep.

And that's this week in work news. I'll have some Zadie stuff soon. She's a crack-up, as always. My favorite moment today was when we were playing sisters, and she was the big sister. I asked if we could play school, and she could be the teacher: "Well, no, I don't think I could do that, because teachers do a lot of things. 1..2..3.. That's how you count. ABCDAFGHIELELELOP... that's how you sing the alphabet song." "How do you spell Daddy?" "With a D."


*You can probably figure out what I desperately needed, but I'm trying not to just call out my co-workers by indicating what their jobs are.

Picalilli circus

That's right: there were so many veggies soaking, I had to use the old baby bath!



I'll do a post over on Count Broccula, but long story short, I had some green tomatoes to use up and Mom suggested I make picalilli, a green tomato relish that she remembers her mom and grandma making. "Sweet!" I thought. "I can use up the tomatoes and make an old family recipe at the same time."

So I did... I haven't really tasted it yet, as it was still hot when I canned it, and I canned every last tablespoon. But I nibbled one little bit, and it tasted like pickle relish. I think it will be good.

Incidentally, my cousin has been over every day. I like him, but we're not super-close. So he must wonder what the hell I get up to around here -- Monday I had cupcakes baking and pizza dough rising. Tuesday I was sauteing mountains of rainbow chard, and when he comes tomorrow, there will be about a dozen jars of relish resting on the counter. I don't feel like I do a lot of cooking, but I guess I sort of do.

Zadie said

IMG_0877
Originally uploaded by countmockula

'I'm a man!"

On home stuff, mid-century modern, lived-in homes and cooked-in kitchens.

Whew! We just got done getting the house re-piped. It was kind of crazy... yesterday morning we had no shower (and didn't know ahead of time that we wouldn't -- it was a clog), the bathroom is filthy, and almost every rag and towel we have right now is out of commission (because of the fridge exploding, mostly). We still have to get the tile done, get a new toilet, get a water heater... and with me being the sort-of-contractor on this project, that means I've had to choose and purchase everything. And that includes tile, trim, grout, a curtain rod, hooks, liner, and curtain, the heater, toilet, shower and tub faucet... Frankly, I am not even done. I spent days looking for a match for my vintage tile, and I never found a color, even though I scoured the internet. I found one that would be close enough to pass muster, but it was $20 a square foot. Finally, I just gave up and went with tile squares from Overstock.com. I got a really, really good price, so I'm going to be happy, even though I didn't get exactly what I wanted. I think it will look nice in the end.

Sometime last year, Mom planted the seed that someday, a sectional couch might be just the thing for our living room. It would really make good use of the space and give us more seating room. I poked around a bit and, considering that MY favorite styles, Arts and Crafts and Spanish revival, don't really do sectionals and also that my Sweetie loves Mid-Century Modern, I decided to look at some of that. In fact, I found several things I could really go for, and when we eventually buy a new couch (I'm thinking several years from now), I'm leaning towards that style.

I decided to look around at that style a bit more, and I'm obsessing about kitchens at the moment (more on that in a minute), so I looked up mid-century modern kitchens. What?! What is this?! No way!!! With the exception of the Eichler stuff, what I found wasn't the stark, geometric, colorless birch-fests I was expecting. It was the atomic kitchen stuff I've been in love with forever! Ridiculous! Marmoleum floors? Yes! Formica countertops? Yes! Chrome dinettes? Hell to the yes! It was beautiful, and I had a revelation -- I think I have been confusing mid-century modern with Danish modern, which I still sort of hate. But okay Jenny and Sweetie... I'll give you this: I like aspects of mid-century modern. There. I said it.

Mom and I (and sometimes Boompah and others) have been going on home and garden tours for years. We mostly go in East Sac, but we've been on Christmas tours, bungalow tours, remodel tours, and more. I would say we've been on at least twenty and probably more. The Christmas home tour is fun because it's really Christmassy -- It's cold, and Christmas music is playing and everyone has scarves and festive jewelry and there are decorations galore. But what it really lacks is that you don't get a sense of the homeowners' actual style. They bring designers in and totally change the places. The remodel tour, on some years, has been a source of hilarity; one house we still talk about was entirely decorated in pink, lavender, and lacy ruffly girlness. It also had Glade plug-ins about every ten feet, so the place was just an assault on several levels. Some people take a beautiful home and do strange, strange things to it. But this year it was actually quite lovely, and the best part was that the homes weren't really touched by designers at all. Each house was just as people lived in it. And the bungalow tour we went on two weeks ago was the same. I love seeing how people choose to decorate their homes. Do they stick to the period of the home? Do they have a theme? And I love seeing the really unique, individual touches, like the shadow boxes with a child's onesie and shoes, or a display in a kitchen of vintage kitchen tools. Anyway, I guess it's a bit snoopy of me, but I love looking in people's homes and seeing how they live. I find it to be a much more authentic experience than the designer-done homes.

Sigh. I really, really try not to covet people's stuff. I don't turn green over cars, clothes, vacations, or almost anything else money could buy. And I really don't begrudge people their stuff. But these home tours... ai yi yi... they're a different story. See, we've been, as I mentioned, on a boatload of these tours, and I don't think I've seen a single kitchen (out of hundreds, mind you) without a Wolf or a Viking or an Aga stove, a giant range hood, a bar sink, a counter with stools, and a pantry for storage. And, you know, all these people just can't be cooks, can they? I admit it -- it would kind of chap my hide if these people were microwaving Lean Cuisines while their Aga sits unused. I cook five nights a week, on average, plus baking cookies, cakes, muffins, and bread, and making candy, and canning jellies and tomatoes. I would use the hell out of a good stove, and I would fill that pantry in a heartbeat. Not that I'm suffering with my kind-of-crappy kitchen; I do just fine. But I have my rice and cookbooks in the laundry room, the Crock Pot and Kitchen-Aid in the garage, the nice china in boxes, and my spices precariously balanced in a former ironing board nook. I would really benefit from having a nicely arrayed kitchen. Well, maybe someday...


In the meantime, check out Retro Renovation for some pictures to drool over. Well, if you like retro style anyway.

Holy Moly -- quick update

Lots going on -- We're getting all the plumbing re-done, because the water pressure here wasn't enough to knock pudding off a spoon. It's been a little bit of a hassle (no shower yesterday, an associated leak under the kitchen sink) for us, but a big one for my mom, who will spend her third entire day at my house with the kid and no water today. Thanks, Mom! And although we had to take whore baths yesterday, it was all made up for by today's super-powered-awesome-shower. It was the first shower I've taken in this house (and we've lived here over four years) with water pressure.

Of course, as soon as we decided to drop some big money on getting the re-pipe done (and some tile, and a tankless water heater, and a new toilet...), our refrigerator exploded. We came home Monday and noticed the rug was wet. Sometimes Zadie pushes the water dispenser button or I drop ice or something, so I just took the rug out, cleaned up the water, and went about my business. But later, there was another big pool. Sweetie and I cleaned it up (with much hilarity involving a garden hose, out attempts at siphoning, and some Gdiapers), and thought it would be fine. The drip pan had overflowed, but we got it completely empty. But in the morning, not only was there another big pool, but it was clear the floor was warped in a fairly large area. My mom called an appliance repairman, and he came out. I got a happy email mid-morning that it was taken care of.

When I got home, there was a towel on the floor, but it was "just in case." I grabbed Z and ran an errand to a tile store (I'm having a hell of a time finding a match for my 40s tile), and came home about 45 minutes later. The floor towel was soaked. I called the appliance guy back, and he said he had one more stop, but would come by later, which he did. He was a really nice guy, and he fixed it all up. So I think we're okay.

Zadie is still awesome and hilarious. This morning she caught me looking at a weird tattoo of an alien and said "Who's that freaky guy?"

She can now consistently make the number one with a crayon. She helped make her own pizza last night again (I let her roll the dough and put on the toppings). And in a new development, she was drawing with Mom yesterday, and Mom drew a stick figure Boompah. Next to it, Zadie drew a circle with sort of a smaller circle at the top, and four lines pointing out. It was her... with a head, arms and legs. That's the first time she's done that, so I think it's really cool.

Speaking of her art, I wonder whether she has a little OCD streak (I mean, I'm not paranoid, just musing). Almost every painting she ever makes, though in different colors, is exactly the same; a vertical line and several concentric circles above it and a bit to the right. We have several of these.

I've now gone to the gym 6 days a week since late July with only one exception, on a day when we were in San Francisco. I am feeling pretty good about my body, although I know I still have a lot to lose. Picture one of those movies about women in the 40s or 50s where the matronly woman of about 40 takes of her dress and is wearing just those huge high-waisted panties and torpedo bra. They didn't have personal trainers, so there's a little belly and an indication that they've had a baby and probably use real butter, but they're not fat, exactly. I kind of feel like that. Although technically, I'm almost 50 pounds over the recommended weight for my height, I am (and always have been -- it's not entirely due to exercise, but to genetics) very muscular, and I don't think anyone who saw me would guess I was that much overweight. Even carnies who guess weight for a living.

Navel-gazing with semi-obscure music references. On second thought, maybe you should skip it.

Whoa, oh, what I want to know is, are you kind? -- Grateful Dead

I can distinctly remember, in my early twenties, deciding who and what and how I wanted to be. I always tell the students not to worry about what they want to major in, but to try everything and see what their passion is. It's true, I think, and good advice, but not really advice I followed. Although I waffled in about the eighth grade, I was always pretty sure I wanted to be a teacher. But in some ways, what you want to be is one of the lesser things you have to worry about. I mean, you are a doctor or janitor or strawberry picker or whatever for maybe 8 hours a day. What are you the other 16? And I remember clearly thinking, "I just hope people remember me as kind." In fact, I remember thinking that a really awesome headstone inscription (not that I've ever wanted a headstone, but you know...) would be "Count Mockula: 1976- 20?? She was kind."


I eat for two, walk for two, breathe for two now. -- 10,000 Maniacs*

But then! Oh my god! Just after I had the baby I wrote that a Big Bang of love had gone off in my heart. And in an instant I realized, through my sleep-deprived new mommy brain, that being kind wasn't enough. I had to be a good mother, too. And that involved a lot more than kindness. As I wrote in one of my recent posts, I have to teach her my values by living them. And although Sweetie and I are ironic, jaded, technophilic, sarcastic 30-somethings, I think both of us have strong moral values. A few years ago, he started trying to up the number of volunteer hours he was doing, mainly for his work resume. I tagged along, partly because I was going to drop him off anyway, right? But after a few of these volunteer sessions, we quietly expressed to each other that it felt good to do them, too. And as you know if you've been following this for any length of time, I try to live up to my convictions in other ways, too, particularly as a steward of the earth. (Whoa, that sounded REALLY hippie.)


God Money's not looking for the cure. God Money's not concerned about the sick among the pure. -- Nine Inch Nails


To that end, I've been learning about something called urban homesteading. Although there are a lot of individual things people can do, like growing more food, using less energy, and building community, one idea that keeps popping up is that of contributing less to corporate culture. Stop making the rich people richer, as it were, and build what you can build, grow what you can grow, contribute to the wealth of your community. Barter, re-use, buy used goods, make things from scratch instead of buying them... I have been doing some of these things, although I think this is an area that needs a lot more attention on my part.

I've been surprisingly invested in a book called Radical Homemakers, which I picked up on the suggestion of a friend. On the front cover is a picture of a woman triumphantly holding up a rolling pin. I thought it would be full of portraits of people living closer to the earth. I was surprised, then, to find that the first half of the book is a pretty academic treatise on how homemaking came to be de-valued and how it was replaced by consumerism. Super-Cliff's-Notes version? People used to make all their own stuff (men and women together). Then the industrial revolution** came and men had to go get jobs outside the house. When it was women alone doing the homemaking, the work was less appreciated. Marketers jumped on the opportunity to sell them products to make the home-making easier and faster (although many of them ended up requiring MORE maintenance and more work). Women become consumers instead of producers, leading to the whole Feminine Mystique thing (essentially, women felt worthless because they weren't doing much of value at home). To remedy that, they went out into the work force, so now we pay people to bake our bread and sew our clothing, increasing the consumerism even more.

Also interesting are the statistics the author presents about how much money we make vs. how happy we actually are. There are some really good arguments that mo' money does, in fact, create mo' problems. One striking statistic was that once a family makes over about $10,000 per person per year, there is no reported increase in happiness no matter how much more money they make.

And there's something in particular that makes me not want to make the rich richer right now: about 90% of them are whiny fucking greedy bastards. Obama so much as suggests ending a tax cut (not raising taxes, mind you, but ending a cut), and they go all "You're Hitler!" on him. Taxes on the wealthiest 1% are lower than they were in many other eras in our history, and the first $250,000 they make each year isn't taxed at all (more than pretty much anyone I know makes, by the way). Warren Buffet admits publicly that his secretary pays more in taxes than he does. Bankers get bailouts for fucking up their businesses (and not just accidentally, but maliciously in many cases), and then they throw a big stomping tantrum when someone suggests limiting their bonuses. And there are so many other ways the government makes being rich really goddamn convenient. If you buy a fancy SUV and you're a business owner, guess how much of a tax deduction you can get for it? Up to $35,000. Guess how much of a tax deduction a single mom can get for buying a used Honda Civic?


Do you have some shoes that you really love? Ones that you feel so flash in. -- Donovan

I love stuff. I don't even know where my love of stuff came from, but stuff is really important to me. Twice today I had occasion to reflect on this. First, I was going through some of Zadie's things for Goodwill. She suggested that I put a blanket in the bag, and my heart stopped. "No! We can't give that away! Someone we love made that for you. We can give away things that aren't meaningful to us, but I like to keep the things that people made us because they love us." I put the blanket back with the other two drawers' worth of hand-made blankets.
Then in the grocery store, I let her take a book in. She read it in the cart, and when we got back into the car, I buckled her into her car seat, and I held on to the book for a moment while I did. She asked "Why did we leave the book in the store?" She was clearly upset at the idea of losing the book. I had to show it to her twice before she settled down. I flashed back to my childhood, and the almost crippling fear I had of losing my toys. I remember once taking a Tazmanian Devil toy on a road trip, and refusing to roll down the window all the way for fear that the wind would pick up "Tazzy" and pull him out into the void.

I may need to confront some of these feelings. Not only do I love stuff and feel attached to it, I constantly bring it back into the house. Not Hoarders-style, but a lot. I recently started boycotting Target***. I went there every couple weeks and bought toothpaste, floss, cat litter, cleaning supplies, toys, batteries, snack foods, clothes, accessories... basically, my list would be about three items long, but since I was there anyway, I'd mosey down the aisles and pick up other things. I'd think "Oh, I need this!" and throw it in the cart. I rarely left Target with a receipt reflecting less than $100, even if my list had been cat litter and Listerine.

Initially, I participated in a group keeping track of things they bought elsewhere and how much money they hadn't given to Target. I bought things at CVS instead, or at Costco. But as time has worn on, I've found that I really didn't need all that crap I was buying, and I stopped participating in the group because, well, I'm not buying stuff elsewhere as much. I'm just not buying stuff as much at all****.

That doesn't mean I'm going to go all minimalist on you. I knew a guy once who got rid of almost everything he owned. I was horrified, and I still am. My home offers me a lot of comfort. I like to look around after we clean on a Saturday morning and see all the things we've collected and sit on my comfy couch and admire my Alice teapots. I like to serve food on my Fiestaware. I like the convenience of chopping all the ingredients for salsa in my Cuisinart. Does stuff make me happy? Yeah, kind of. And I'm not the kind of person who has big fancy stuff to impress other people. I have the stuff because I like it. Having a nice home means a lot to me, and in fact, in the Radical Homemakers book, the author mentions that most of the people had gone to a great deal of trouble to have a comfortable, personalized home. That's all I want. I don't want the model home. I want a place that is unique to the three of us, and I want our guests to feel at home.

In an anti-stuff moment I was having the other day, I thought about deleting my Amazon wish list. I thought that I could ask people, for Christmas and my birthday, to make me something homemade, or write me a letter, or take me on a weekend trip. I could go to the library for books! But that thought quickly passed. I like my stuff. I know not everyone has time to make something by hand or to write a letter. Still, I know I don't need to bring home $100 worth of junk every two weeks. I can curb that.

Punk rock girl, let's go slam dance. We'll dress like Minnie Pearl. -- Dead Milkmen

Re-using stuff is a great way to get a foot out the door of corporate culture. When I buy a vintage dress on eBay, the money isn't going to Sam Walton or to China. It's going to some gal in Nevada. When I buy a vintage dress at a shop here in town, it's going to someone who is going to spend more money here in town. I can feel good about that. Even more so, because according to that book, $1 spent locally has three times the local impact of $1 given to a chain. And I've already told you how good I feel in vintage clothes. The problem is that I can't really (and don't want to) wear vintage all the time. I want to go camping, and work in the yard, and those things require shorts and jeans and t-shirts. I want to look professional, and though it's possible to look professional in vintage, it always stands out, doesn't it? The other day I was wearing a vintage dress and I got called in to a serious meeting. I looked fabulously cute, but did I really want to be the faculty member's union representative in gaudy florals?

So it may not always be appropriate, but I'll at least try to buy less stuff new. The author of Made From Scratch points out that a box grater sitting in the antique store has been working for forty years, so it will likely serve you for a few more years, too. Unlike, of course, my Target model, whose handle has already come loose.


Ch-ch-ch-changes. Don't want to be a richer man... Just gonna have to be a different man... Time may change me. -- David Bowie

Back to mentoring my students for a moment: I have been helping them write personal statements for college applications, and the kinds of questions I've been asking them to consider are "Who are you? What kind of qualities are you presenting to the reader of this? What is it you want to say about yourself?" Obviously, my personal introspection shows that I don't believe we're ever done asking those questions. I was interested in the environment when I was in high school, but I know so much more now about the consequences of my actions and all the little changes I can make on a daily basis. Back then, I harangued my grandparents into recycling. Now, I talk to friends about line drying my clothes or composting. This blog post is of great length -- I know, and I'm sorry. I am willing to bet that most of you will skim and skip parts instead of reading it all, and that's fine. Really, it's just a way for me to express and record my thoughts. But I think the introspection is important. If we aren't constantly re-evaluating what we can do better, and why we are making the choices we make, are we continuing to grow? And if not, what's the opposite, stagnation? I hope I am seventy someday and am questioning the choices I make.

Radical Homemakers has prompted a lot of thinking, but I don't suspect I'm going to quit my job and grow blueberries. A lot of the ideas are impractical for me. I can't really have an '85 Buick, because I don't know how to maintain it, so I'd pay a lot to do so. I can't make all our food, because I have obligations, like a job. And I won't quit my job, because I don't think of myself as just a wage slave: I really believe I'm doing good in the world by helping these students be better communicators and better readers, not just of written material, but of the world at large. If I was making $30,000 doing data entry, I might think about it. But I read once that a child needs only three things to escape from a difficult life, and one of them is an adult, any adult, who cares about them. If I can be that to some of my students -- one a year, even -- then I am doing more good there than I would be at home. So I am going to do what I always do: taking what works for me and leaving aside, but with respect, those that don't. Sometimes I worry that may be my biggest problem: I am diplomatic and balanced and whatever to the point that I lack conviction. I'll have to shield myself with the words of William Butler Yeats: "The best lack all conviction, while the worst/ are full of passionate intensity."

*Although "Eat for Two" is a sad song about the woman's "folly" in getting pregnant, I have always loved that line and interpret it in an entirely different way.

** I had a college professor once who said that if you ever didn't know the answer to something, you should answer "the industrial revolution," because there would be a pretty good chance that you'd be right.

*** Their CEO gave $150,000 to a political campaign closely allied with some hate groups. I personally am boycotting on behalf of gay rights, but many fellow Target boycotters are doing so on the general principal that corporations shouldn't try to influence elections at all. I think that's a valid point, but giving corporations the opportunity to do so was totally Congress' fault, and I kind of feel like we ought to boycott their asses for that.

**** Today was an exception. I went to Smart and Final and spent an assload on storage containers, because we have those infernal moths that get in your dry goods, and we can't, for the life of us, figure out what they're in. I bought enough containers to put almost all our non-refrigerated food in. If you've ever had those moths, though, you won't blame me.

Why did you stop?

This morning I dilly-dallied a little. Then when I actually needed to get a move on, I realized I needed a coat. And Zadie needed a coat. And my bag was too heavy to carry everything in one trip, so I carried it out to the car first, and then I needed some jewelry, because it was back to school night, and then I checked to make sure I had my lunch, and, well, you know how it goes. I was running late.

On Folsom Blvd. at about 42nd, I saw a car stopped half-way around the corner. I didn't see anything impeding his progress, so I looked more closely to see what he was doing. Then I saw the man lying in the street in front of the car.

I hesitated. I really did. I was so busy, and the driver was already getting out, and many more people would drive by in just a moment... and I was SO late.

But I pulled over, put on my hazards, got the camera application on my phone ready, got out, took a quick picture of the car's license plate, and walked around to see what was going on. By that time, the guy on the ground, a cyclist, was getting up and walking his bike across the street to the sidewalk. The driver said he had offered him help and he had refused. Since the cyclist was leaving the scene, I figured I wasn't needed, and I went back to the car.

This is something I might have... probably would have done before Zadie. In fact, motherhood in many ways just makes me less likely to help. I don't want to leave her alone in the car. I don't trust other drivers not to hit the car while I'm not in it.

But the questions she asked me afterwards made me realize something. I will always have to follow my best impulses. She needed to know why we stopped. Why we had the hazard lights on. Was the cyclist a bad guy? Was he okay? What did I do?

And answering those questions honestly was a learning experience, and, although I knew it intellectually before, I really realized in my gut that I am not teaching her values through what I say. I am teaching her values through what I do. So I have to do what's right. Even when it's inconvenient. Even when I'm in a hurry. Especially then. Because it shows that it matters.

Ooh, and the logic...

We're not the kind of parents who will let a kid argue any point. But damn, does she ever try. The other night we told her it was almost time for bed, because it was getting dark. She said "But I can see the trees."

She was eating her healthy snack at pre-school yesterday, when a mom came by with a cookie. Zadie abandoned the crackers in favor of the cookie, and my mom said "You should finish your snack first." Zadie said "But she gave it to me!"

And man, when she wants something, she sure as hell tries to get it. Tonight it was all pathos. I suggested to Sweetie that he take her to the Daddy and Me soccer at our nearby park. It's on Saturday mornings, which is our cleaning morning, so he started to decline. She said "Oh, but I want to play soccer with you, Daddy, because you're my GREAT DADDY and I love you!"

My awesome kid.

Have I told you lately how awesome Zadie is? Well, she totally is.

She went to ArtBeast the other day and made two paintings. Mom asked her to tell me what they were, and she said "This one is a poppy and this one is the sun in the jungle." Pretty cool, huh?




I don't even need to label which is which, 'cause I bet you can tell.

Also this week, she was drawing, and she said "I drawed an A!" Mom looked at the paper, and sure enough, she had drawn an A. She went on to make am M and another letter. She had made a Z a few weeks ago, but I thought it was a fluke.

Furthermore, she made a picture for Sweetie, helped pick out all the foam letters and glued them on. She only got one D backwards, but otherwise it was a perfect "DADDY."

And then at pre-school, she not only sat through all the songs and everything, but get this: when she was playing with a toy, another kid came over and grabbed it. The other kid's dad started to give her the whole "we don't grab stuff" lecture, and Zadie said (this is a direct quote, according to Mom), "That's okay. We can be friends. Let's share."

Also, she is still hysterical. The other day, she was playing with Boompah and Mom went in the room. Zadie said "Uh, Grandma, we want some privacy." Mom complied, and as she was walking out, heard Zadie say "Why did I tell your wife to leave?"

Sweetie got a statue of Cthulu, the monster-thing from the H. P. Lovecraft horror stories. Zadie kind of likes it, and she learned its name. So today, we were listening to Three Dog Night's "Joy to the World." She asked why they were saying "boys and girls," and I answered that they were saying joy to everyone. She asked "Are they saying joy to Great Cthulu, too?" I busted up laughing, but then agreed that if Cthulu was in the world, I guess they were saying joy to him, too. Then she asked about indricotherium, and how indricotherium and Cthulu were different and alike, and just why tentacles were creepy. I remember talking to my friend Fiona years ago about how much of what we say has already been said by someone else, but I'm guessing no one has ever had that conversation before.