To Those of You Who Have Ever Wanted to Live in a "Lovely Big Home"
Big houses are a pain in the ass. I am starting to think that anything over 2000 square feet is just plain crazy, both from a logistical and from a "where the hell did I put my keys" perspective.
7.14.2007
Like Pushing Rusty Thumbtacks Into My Delicately Quivering Eyeballs
Like Pushing Rusty Thumbtacks Into My Delicately Quivering Eyeballs
When I am already grumpy, the only book that irritates me more than a pretentious, depressing novel is a pretentious, depressing novel in which every other sentence is a metaphor or simile.
When I am already grumpy, the only book that irritates me more than a pretentious, depressing novel is a pretentious, depressing novel in which every other sentence is a metaphor or simile.
7.13.2007
Dude, Where's My Cat?
Dude, Where's My Cat?
This is Shia. She is eight weeks old. She would not be in this picture if it wasn't for the bad mood and crappy day chronicled in my Post of Despair
Shortly after I published that post, Leelo's school aide Rosie, who has started working with Leelo at home, called to say that she couldn't come in because her cat had ten kittens and her dad said they had to go today or they were going to the pound and did we want one?
I called Seymour and begged please please please cute tiny kitten we can save it and waaaaaaaaaaah I had a bad day and the only thing that will help is a cute tiny kitten please please please we haven't had a cute tiny kitten in thirteen years oh please? I suspect he would have done anything to get me to stop behaving like a twelve-year-old, so he said yes. I now owe him a to-be-named Big Favor.
Rosie brought Shia over about an hour after the unsuspecting Iz got home from camp. Our eldest went into unprecedented hysterics of joy for about five minutes. That was pretty amazing to watch.
And how that our washer is fixed and I've got my head back, I think adopting Shia was the right thing to do. Seymour seems to like her, too.
This is Shia. She is eight weeks old. She would not be in this picture if it wasn't for the bad mood and crappy day chronicled in my Post of Despair
Shortly after I published that post, Leelo's school aide Rosie, who has started working with Leelo at home, called to say that she couldn't come in because her cat had ten kittens and her dad said they had to go today or they were going to the pound and did we want one?
I called Seymour and begged please please please cute tiny kitten we can save it and waaaaaaaaaaah I had a bad day and the only thing that will help is a cute tiny kitten please please please we haven't had a cute tiny kitten in thirteen years oh please? I suspect he would have done anything to get me to stop behaving like a twelve-year-old, so he said yes. I now owe him a to-be-named Big Favor.
Rosie brought Shia over about an hour after the unsuspecting Iz got home from camp. Our eldest went into unprecedented hysterics of joy for about five minutes. That was pretty amazing to watch.
And how that our washer is fixed and I've got my head back, I think adopting Shia was the right thing to do. Seymour seems to like her, too.
Technorati Tags: kitten
Proud
Proud
My smart and talented husband is such a natural at editing, voiceover, and overall production that his second-ever professional web video piece got picked up and reworked for national radio and TV broadcast. If you listened to NP'R yesterday you probably heard it; if you watched The News Hour with J!m Lehrherher last night, you saw it.
Seymour is doing well at his job, and is enjoying being of use. That's more than most of us dare to hope for -- but then there's the cherry of the job itself being a webhead science- and techno-geek grand slam. I wish such positions had existed back in my era, the ice age of CD software development. He is a hard-working, fortunate bastard. (Jealous? Me? Yes.) He has found a professional and creative g-spot. And I am so proud of and happy for him. Even though I grump about the hours.
Email me for the links.
My smart and talented husband is such a natural at editing, voiceover, and overall production that his second-ever professional web video piece got picked up and reworked for national radio and TV broadcast. If you listened to NP'R yesterday you probably heard it; if you watched The News Hour with J!m Lehrherher last night, you saw it.
Seymour is doing well at his job, and is enjoying being of use. That's more than most of us dare to hope for -- but then there's the cherry of the job itself being a webhead science- and techno-geek grand slam. I wish such positions had existed back in my era, the ice age of CD software development. He is a hard-working, fortunate bastard. (Jealous? Me? Yes.) He has found a professional and creative g-spot. And I am so proud of and happy for him. Even though I grump about the hours.
Email me for the links.
7.12.2007
My Body, the Traitor
My Body, the Traitor
It will surprise no one, least of all my partner, that today is the first day of my monthly damp red celebration of womanhood. Stupid hormones, messing with my head like that. Today I am fine. But my, was I vulnerable yesterday. Witness:
It will surprise no one, least of all my partner, that today is the first day of my monthly damp red celebration of womanhood. Stupid hormones, messing with my head like that. Today I am fine. But my, was I vulnerable yesterday. Witness:
7.11.2007
Crybaby
Crybaby
This life of mine, it can be a challenging one. But generally I am able to deal.
I am fairly well reconciled to never having any free time except when stolen (like now) from time allotted to something else, in this hour's case drying all the laundry my mom and I brought home from the laundromat wet because drying it there costs buckets and takes forever and the kids' summer schedules are too tight to fit it in anyhow, and besides our dryer works even though our washer still smells like a beach bucket with a week-old dead starfish in it because the people who lived here before us didn't know how to clean out their drains and now all the outgoing water in the house is backed up into the toilets, sinks, dishwasher, and of course the clothes washer, and has been backed up for seven days now because the plumber who came out for a consult six days ago dropped off the face of the earth shortly afterwards, but didn't bother to notify the home warranty people who contracted with him, probably for the same reason it took me two days to reach them--they are so backlogged that all calls take at least fifteen minutes to get through the queue, and half of the time you get dropped when the final connection clicks in.
I have been dealing fairly well, I think, with the very upsetting events of the past few weeks; divorces and separations in the family, more unfair death (this time good friends of my pilot brother, who was with his friend when he got the news), and such. Changes of that magnitude just don't seem possible.
But just when I think I am made out of smooth, hard stone and nothing can touch me, Leelo takes advantage of the Iron Gate pre-Mali Summer School pick up waiting time to use me as a punching bag, in front of five hundred or so impressionable parents and their teeny tiny breakable children. I have never been so grateful that Iron Gate leases facilities from my church; I was able to drag Leelo into the sanctuary and hide us there until I collected myself. I don't think anyone saw me actually lose my composure, and that's the way I'd like to keep it.
On days like today I am so very frightened about Leelo and his future; about whether he'll be able to stay with us, about whether we'll have to end up sticking him on some kind of horrible tranquilizing drug; about whether he's going to injure one of his sisters or some random stranger, or, you know, me. He is very strong.
Now I am crying again. Thankfully I am hiding in my office and my mom is watching Mali.
Time for more laundry.
This life of mine, it can be a challenging one. But generally I am able to deal.
I am fairly well reconciled to never having any free time except when stolen (like now) from time allotted to something else, in this hour's case drying all the laundry my mom and I brought home from the laundromat wet because drying it there costs buckets and takes forever and the kids' summer schedules are too tight to fit it in anyhow, and besides our dryer works even though our washer still smells like a beach bucket with a week-old dead starfish in it because the people who lived here before us didn't know how to clean out their drains and now all the outgoing water in the house is backed up into the toilets, sinks, dishwasher, and of course the clothes washer, and has been backed up for seven days now because the plumber who came out for a consult six days ago dropped off the face of the earth shortly afterwards, but didn't bother to notify the home warranty people who contracted with him, probably for the same reason it took me two days to reach them--they are so backlogged that all calls take at least fifteen minutes to get through the queue, and half of the time you get dropped when the final connection clicks in.
I have been dealing fairly well, I think, with the very upsetting events of the past few weeks; divorces and separations in the family, more unfair death (this time good friends of my pilot brother, who was with his friend when he got the news), and such. Changes of that magnitude just don't seem possible.
But just when I think I am made out of smooth, hard stone and nothing can touch me, Leelo takes advantage of the Iron Gate pre-Mali Summer School pick up waiting time to use me as a punching bag, in front of five hundred or so impressionable parents and their teeny tiny breakable children. I have never been so grateful that Iron Gate leases facilities from my church; I was able to drag Leelo into the sanctuary and hide us there until I collected myself. I don't think anyone saw me actually lose my composure, and that's the way I'd like to keep it.
On days like today I am so very frightened about Leelo and his future; about whether he'll be able to stay with us, about whether we'll have to end up sticking him on some kind of horrible tranquilizing drug; about whether he's going to injure one of his sisters or some random stranger, or, you know, me. He is very strong.
Now I am crying again. Thankfully I am hiding in my office and my mom is watching Mali.
Time for more laundry.
Technorati Tags: autism, autism blog, autistic
7.10.2007
A "Great!" Day for Leelo
A "Great!" Day for Leelo
Leelo's ALSO summer school teacher was so sweet and enthusiastic yesterday during pickup. She took special pains to let me know that Leelo had, "...a great day, just a really great day! He only hit me twice!"
*Sigh*
Leelo's ALSO summer school teacher was so sweet and enthusiastic yesterday during pickup. She took special pains to let me know that Leelo had, "...a great day, just a really great day! He only hit me twice!"
*Sigh*
Technorati Tags: autism, autism blog, autistic
7.08.2007
Celebrity
Celebrity
Iz is now a self-proclaimed obsessive of the following three items:
1) Kittens
2) The D!sney Channel (and she SO does not mean Playhouse D!sney)
3) Politics
In that context, the following conversation with her friend makes sense:
Friend: "My cousin knows Hannah M0ntana and she had her call me on my birthday!"
Iz: "Yeah, well, I've met Ira Ruskin and I got his autograph!" (Mr. Ruskin is our district's state Assemblymember.)
Iz is now a self-proclaimed obsessive of the following three items:
1) Kittens
2) The D!sney Channel (and she SO does not mean Playhouse D!sney)
3) Politics
In that context, the following conversation with her friend makes sense:
Friend: "My cousin knows Hannah M0ntana and she had her call me on my birthday!"
Iz: "Yeah, well, I've met Ira Ruskin and I got his autograph!" (Mr. Ruskin is our district's state Assemblymember.)
7.05.2007
Define Crazy
Define Crazy
There are many variations on the theme of eccentricity. This week, as I take care of Ep's cats and her many, many plants, I am feeling quite comfortable declaring her a Crazy Plant Lady. And I am a little uncomfortable with the the thought that, by selling her our 3/4 acre plot of land, I have become an enabler.
Did I mention that my mom has been here since Saturday? We are having a lot of fun and getting mountainous loads of work done, but we are getting very little unpacking done, which makes her feel as though her Visit Is For Naught. I am pleased to have her company and help regardless.
In the interests of preventing additional crazies from taking roost within my own noggin, I am leaving tonight for two solo days on the coast. See you on the other side.
There are many variations on the theme of eccentricity. This week, as I take care of Ep's cats and her many, many plants, I am feeling quite comfortable declaring her a Crazy Plant Lady. And I am a little uncomfortable with the the thought that, by selling her our 3/4 acre plot of land, I have become an enabler.
Did I mention that my mom has been here since Saturday? We are having a lot of fun and getting mountainous loads of work done, but we are getting very little unpacking done, which makes her feel as though her Visit Is For Naught. I am pleased to have her company and help regardless.
In the interests of preventing additional crazies from taking roost within my own noggin, I am leaving tonight for two solo days on the coast. See you on the other side.
7.04.2007
Happy 4th!
Happy 4th!
I realized yesterday morning that today is our glorious nation's birthday, during which we get to wallow in barbecue, parades, and a day off. I called a couple of people to invite them over for afternoon swimming and barbecue, but am realizing that most people prefer a lead time of more than 24 hours, as they already had plans. But still, anyone who wants to come see the southern Peninsula's fireworks displays from the comfort of an apple-pie- and beer-laden back porch, give me a call. We have a view that starts with Deadwood and goes straight on south to San Jose.
I realized yesterday morning that today is our glorious nation's birthday, during which we get to wallow in barbecue, parades, and a day off. I called a couple of people to invite them over for afternoon swimming and barbecue, but am realizing that most people prefer a lead time of more than 24 hours, as they already had plans. But still, anyone who wants to come see the southern Peninsula's fireworks displays from the comfort of an apple-pie- and beer-laden back porch, give me a call. We have a view that starts with Deadwood and goes straight on south to San Jose.
7.01.2007
Notes on 6/29
Notes on 6/29
Leelo peed standing up today! First time ever! He also started tolerating goggles, which will be excellent as his eyes are chlorine-sensitive but he refuses to shut them when he swims.
Still haven't found the dishes. Or the pancake griddle.
Can't find the kids' books either. Thank goodness for the library.
Haven't watched TV for over three weeks.
Did I mention that we have almost no furniture? I welshed on leaving the bar stools at our old house; they're the only things we have to sit on in the entire house. Except the futon in the play room/den, and that's only a temporary fix until we get a real couch in there as the futon is white and completely kid-incompatible.
Haven't met any neighbors yet, except the lady who came over to ask us to move our car as it was "in her spot." On a street with plentiful parking, including two other spots in front of her house. Ya, whatever, OCD comes in many different guises and I am hoping that Her Special Parking is the one glitch in an otherwise delightful and neighborly personality.
I do have to say that I worry about our new neighbors constanly hearing "Leelo, hitting Mommy is all done" drifting out of the windows that will be left propped open all summer long.
Leelo peed standing up today! First time ever! He also started tolerating goggles, which will be excellent as his eyes are chlorine-sensitive but he refuses to shut them when he swims.
Still haven't found the dishes. Or the pancake griddle.
Can't find the kids' books either. Thank goodness for the library.
Haven't watched TV for over three weeks.
Did I mention that we have almost no furniture? I welshed on leaving the bar stools at our old house; they're the only things we have to sit on in the entire house. Except the futon in the play room/den, and that's only a temporary fix until we get a real couch in there as the futon is white and completely kid-incompatible.
Haven't met any neighbors yet, except the lady who came over to ask us to move our car as it was "in her spot." On a street with plentiful parking, including two other spots in front of her house. Ya, whatever, OCD comes in many different guises and I am hoping that Her Special Parking is the one glitch in an otherwise delightful and neighborly personality.
I do have to say that I worry about our new neighbors constanly hearing "Leelo, hitting Mommy is all done" drifting out of the windows that will be left propped open all summer long.
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