You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March, 2007.
Out of the 8 million bazillion there are.
1. I came home from work the other night, and after he yelled how he loved me and asked for a glass of water, I kissed him and got up to go to bed, and he said “Mommy?” and then sang “Howard, the Duck!” (you have to listen to the theme song – which I can’t seem to find on YouTube but have linked to my search for anyway – to imagine this).
2. He thinks nothing of running at you and then yelling “Look, I can run like a mothaluvah!”
3. If you ask him what time it is, he’ll usually say “Time to get ill”
4. We are listening to a long children’s book on tape in the car and just read another long one at nap time, while who knows what long books his dad’s reading him, and he can remember the plot details of all of them better than I can.
5. He loves leeks and Brie.
6. And shrimp. To the point where on Wednesday, he was eating shrimp out of the bag in the car, because he just could not wait to get home to enjoy those suckers.
7. He will tell you, in a serious voice, that he doesn’t want to eat meat because “they have to take out the eyes”. This doesn’t affect shrimp, somehow, even though he knows they have eyes.
8. He can sing Interpol, Wu-Tang, Magnolia Electric Company, Little Wings, and various Sandra Boynton tunes at will, and without irony. And the other day he was singing April March, in French, in the movie theater bathroom.
9. Today he sat in my lap, all bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked from riding his scooter around in the sunshine (hi, spring, we love you!), and I said, as I do sometimes, “Someday you won’t sit in my lap anymore because you’ll be too big, and I’ll be so sad.” He looked up at me and told me “Mommy, don’t say that, you’re making me sad.“. Then he brightened and said, “But I can always sit in Daddy’s lap, because he’s big enough”, and he ran off to ride the scooter again.
Reasons I haven’t blogged this week:
1. I’m too lazy
2. Also, I’ve been busy.
3. See #1
I’m in the process of cleaning out the sinister Left Side of the Bed, aka the side close to the wall where things fall and are lost in a sea of other fallen things where they are ignored for months until the mess gets too great and must be expunged. Things I have found back there include:
- at least 8000 children’s books and 3000 half-finished chick lit books.
- a Donald Duck/Ducktales comic book from Free Comic Day.
- a stuffed turtle the cat appears to have puked on (and he was doing so well, I thought, on this new “sensitive stomachs” -aka 50% more expensive while basically being exactly the same as all other brands- cat food)
- a treasure trove of lost and mismatched and holey-toed socks.
- a phone book with the following quote written on it: “Aren’t you scared of my muscles? They’re so big that you can’t even understand them!”. Attributed to Boyo on September 2nd, 2005.
- an entire Clue game, knocked off the bed and forgotten there when we had the flu and played Clue in bed (me, groaning under covers “Miss Scarlett in some room with… Urgh, I can’t sit up, do we have to play this?” Boyo “Yes! This is fun! What does C-O-N-S-E-R-V-A-T-O-R-Y spell? I pick that!”)
- various elastics, bobby pins, and other hair accessories, which partially explains why I need to buy a new bag of elastics for my ponytail every few months.
- Back issues of Marie Claire, Glamour, Jane, and Playboy that I never finished reading.
- buzzing magnets, crayon halves, catnip mice.
- empty Newcastle bottle, empty root beer cans, suspicious-looking tissue wedged under a drawer.
- Great shame at the state of my bedroom and vows to stop the madness and keep it clean.
I hate Mondays.
I have all these post ideas in my head jumbled together, along with (for some weird reason) images from a decorating magazine I read years ago. I keep remembering this ritzy version of a seaside-cottagey-type house and visualizing the gorgeous dining room. I think that the decorating blog browsing I did yesterday is getting to me.
Anyway, I’m going to make today All! About! Food! here, because I’ve been feeling like cooking lately and haven’t been cooking because it means I have to wash all the dishes I’ve been avoiding. Also, we went out to eat a lot this weekend (went to Boston), and so of course that makes me think of food.
I have chocolate chips, so I’ve been browsing for a perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe. I’ve found this one at Food Network, and this at someone’s blog, and the original Tollhouse cookie recipe, and many others, but I’m giving up. I look at them and they all are so similar, and E will only sigh and say “I wish your sister had made these”, no matter what I do. You see, my sister makes The Best Chocolate Chip Cookies In The World, and no replication of her exact recipe will ever recreate her cookies. I’ve tried and it’s always the same with the sighing and the shame. My cheesecake is better than hers, though, and she can’t make a pie crust to save her life.
Second foodie item: I have decided to go on a quest for a beef with ginger and lime and garlic and maybe scallion recipe, and the internet doesn’t agree with me that such a thing should exist. I’ve been craving some sort of Thai gingery-garlicky-limey thing for a while now and I’m going to have to go it alone and hope for yummy. We did go out for Thai this weekend, and got Pad Thai, which Boyo and I loved (though the shrimp were severely lacking, which he didn’t like. The kid is weird with the shrimp love thing. He goes on these strange vegetarian kicks because “they have to take out the eyes”, but shrimp are always okay. Their eyes don’t count somehow.)
Lastly, a recipe. The best and easiest and moistest cake in the world for the utterly lazy. If it comes out moist in my overhot cake-ruining oven, then it’ll come out moist in yours. Simply get a box of cake mix and a box of pudding mix (either white/yellow cake and whatever flavor pudding, or match the flavors of the two), some cold milk, and an egg. Grease and flour your cake pan(s) and heat your oven according to the back of the cake mix box. Mix the pudding according to the pudding mix directions. Then dump the cake mix into a bowl, add one egg, and add 2/3 of a cup of pudding. Mix, pour into pan(s) and bake. You can eat the rest of the pudding while you wait, or you could always save it and use it for filling. Voila, super-moist lazy man’s cake.
Also in Boston, we had The World’s Best Hamburgers, according to E. I thought they were good, too, but not World’s Best, but anyway – if ever you are in Boston, go to 21st Amendment for burgers. They won’t cost an arm and a leg, and they’re quite tasty.
Start by going into your bathroom and blowing your nose approximately 6,297 times, then wash your hands thoroughly. Sneeze and cough a little, wash hands again. Go into the kitchen. Get a big ol’ stewpot or saucepan or whatever the hell it is you make soup in, put it on the stove, and dump in some broth (about 6 cups for a big pot, or maybe a cup or two if you’re flying solo). You can get those cartons of broth or just use bouillon – I used beef bouillon the other day because this isn’t a fancy-pants establishment around here. But of course chicken soup is the universal healer, so by all means use chicken. Turn the pan up to medium-high and then go blow your nose some more. Wonder how so much snot can be in one person’s head. Wash hands, get out a small onion and some garlic and the big-ass chef’s knife and the cutting board. If you don’t have a big-ass chef’s nice, go out and buy one, you can’t cut garlic without one. It just wouldn’t be right.
Cut up the small onion into smallish pieces – the technical term would be “dice”, I think, but like I said – we’re not fancy-pants here, we’re sick. Chop up some garlic, too. I used two huge cloves, but garlic depends upon you. Some people don’t really like garlic (they should be extradited someplace far away so as not to horrify the rest of us). Obviously don’t use the whole onion for a smaller pot of soup, just a handful or so. Toss the garlic and onion bits into the broth. Go to the freezer and get out whatever frozen veggies you’ve got in there. Here’s where it gets tricky, because I’m so non-fancy that I don’t measure. I eyeball it with soup, just like with stuffing – you just sort of toss stuff in and stop when it looks about right. I know that sort of cooking isn’t for everyone, but live dangerously for once! Throw a handful of each veggie in the pot (my soup was spinach, carrots and peas, but vegetables are forgiving and you can use anything), stir it, figure out if you need more or not. Then add some rice or noodles (I used egg noodles and I highly recommend that). Eyeball those, too, unless you use rice in which case you should read the directions on the rice, because adding 1/2 cup ends up with a ton of rice sometimes and soaks up all your broth.
Let the soup simmer for a while and then spice it up. You will need garlic powder (unless you’ve put in enough chopped-up garlic), cayenne (red) pepper, black pepper, ginger, and turmeric (optional, but it makes a pretty color). Sprinkle the spices on, stir and taste, sprinkle some more until you like it and it’s got some kick. Simmer until the noodles/rice are cooked and then scoop up a big bowl and eat it in bed under the covers with a trashy magazine, or at least a bodice-ripper sort of novel. You need that sort of mindlessness when you’re sick. The garlic and ginger and cayenne will make you feel almost all better while you eat, and turmeric supposedly kicks up the immune system (as do the other spices), so eat up! You’ll probably feel sick again a half hour or so after eating the soup, so have another bowl or two. You need your strength for the marathon nose-blowing sessions.
I’ve been doing it again today- reading all those craft blogs and sighing dramatically because I’ll never be crafty enough to please myself. A few links, if you want to feel awed and also a bit shamed at your own lack’o'craftiness: Soule Mama, Little Birds Handmade, marytree, and Wee Wonderfuls. And as an added bonus, there was, on Soule Mama, a list of the “books I’m reading now” type, and one was poetry so I had to look: at Amazon, and then of course I had to find a poem to read. I wasn’t a huge fan of the poem at the second link, but the excerpt here intrigued me. This, though, is when the guilt sets in. Why don’t I write poetry anymore? Or, to really ask the right question, why can’t I write it anymore, what is blocking me from even thinking in poetry? I used to see poems everywhere I went, my mind used to fashion poems about the changing of the traffic lights or the way a bird looked on a telephone wire. I used to pull over my car at least once a week to jot down a poem that jumped into my head and was too good to be forgotten. I buried myself in books of poetry, in words, words, words that came together in a beautiful, mysterious way. Now, it hurts to read it. I can’t fathom it, I can’t love it like I used to, I just don’t feel smart enough – but why?
Lately I’ve been listening to lots of Mountain Goats and old Cat Power, confessional music. If I was reading poetry it’d be all Anne Sexton and maybe even some Plath, though I’m not a huge Plath fan. I was wondering why earlier, since I don’t feel really sad or like I’m needing to confess. Maybe it’s soothing in my busy-busy life at the moment, being able to sit back and think about more cerebral things than the logistics of picking Boyo up from school and rushing to drop him off with my sister so that I can go to school, and then driving as fast as possible to work, etc. etc. I guess it could be about things like the crafts and the poetry, things missing from my life at the moment – the creative endeavors I’m not undertaking – though of course it could have to do with the photography and being not very good at it when writing I am (was, really) good at…. Honestly I don’t know and I think this post has gotten very convoluted and strange, so the time has come to stop this train of thought.
On to other things.
E went to New York City this weekend and I spent two days, just me and Boyo and no obligations, and it was lovely. Sometimes it’s just wonderful to be able to reconnect with your child without any agenda. We spent Saturday at my mother’s and Sunday drove over to Mystic and bought stickers and ice cream and books, wandered around enjoying the spring-like air. Then after his nap we watched animal videos on the computer and learned more about killer jellyfish, a show we’d watched with my father the night before and been utterly fascinated by. Children are incredible when it comes to learning – the thirst for new things, for facts and information and answers to every little question; it’s amazing how much they want to know and explore. We made a list of things we want to study and decided we’d ask E to participate, too- choose one topic a week, maybe, and all of us could research and read and discover together. So far we’ve got pirates, giant squid, jellyfish, owls/raptors/birds of prey, how raisins are made, money, roses, and dinosaurs. We should have some fun looking up all those things. I’m also on a quest to find a place where I can rent National Geographic videos, or that sort of video, on DVD. I don’t want to shell out $30 or another ridiculous sum to buy one, but the library only has VHS and we don’t have a VCR, and I thought they might be a great way to look at some of our topics. Watching the jellyfish show with my father reminded me how much we love that kind of video/show – it’s nice to be able to see the thing you’re learning about in action.
Lastly, the books we picked up (I really shouldn’t have bought them and I’m kind of surprised at myself for doing it – new books are so expensive! I don’t think I’ve bought a new book in at least 6 years or more.) I was browsing and found The Mysterious Benedict Society, a book I had read about a while ago and meant to check out. It’s got pictures by the wonderful Carson Ellis, a favorite artist of E’s and mine (she’s done the artwork for The Decemberists’ albums for years and has a child with Colin Meloy) , and the story looked intriguing, too. I put it aside but kept coming back to it, thumbing through and loving the pictures enough to plunk down $17. The other book is called Un Lun Dun, and I read about it at Author Buzz (through my daily book club, which I love, love, love) and thought it sounded amazing. Then I checked out an excerpt and some of the pictures and was hooked. I’ve been putting it in my cart at Amazon, then taking it back out because I’m cheap for a while now, and then I saw it in the bookstore and rationalized that if I was spending money, I might as well get it, and it’s supporting local business, and dammit, E is in NEW YORK without me and I need a treat, too! Of course, I’m already reading an adult book that I am loving, Vince and Joy (link takes you to the first chapter at the author’s website), and I have to finish that before I can get started on anything else, and Boyo and I have to finish both Molly Moon’s Incredible Book of Hypnotism (read aloud on tape and surprisingly very, very good) and My Teacher Fried My Brains (we love Bruce Coville, esp. the Magic Shop books) before we can start anything new; so it’ll be a while before we get to either of them. But I’m pleased as punch just knowing I have wonderful brand-new books waiting for me to pick them up and devour them.
If midterms are this bad, I think I might catch on fire and explode come finals time.
It’s not the tests so much as the midterm portfolio for photography – I spent from 10 am to 2 pm, then again from 4 to 5 (making myself late for work) in the darkroom yesterday, and I still don’t have everything I should have done, but fuck it. I’m finished. The amount of work expected for this class is just so HUGE, and making prints is hard. I was all cocky because the first one I did came out really well, but after that I’ve made a lot of messes. Oh, well. I swear on something-or-other that come final portfolio time, I will be more prepared and I won’t procrastinate. Of course, I could just as well say I wont’ breathe, since procrastinating is just how I roll.
***********
I read somewhere that small children are like abusive boyfriends. A magazine? Online essay? Somewhere, anyway. It’s definitely true. One minute you are the love of their life, can do no wrong, smothered in kisses. The next it’s “I hate you!” and hitting and general cruelty. My son, however, has taken this to the new level of stalker abusive boyfriend. I came home from work the other night (mind you, I get home around 1:30 am) and heard him talking in his room. Then “Mommy? Mommy, are you there? Mommy?!!?” I went in and he said, “There you are, Mommy, I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been awake for an hour calling for you. Did you know there will be freezing rain? Freezing rain, Mommy!” It’s slightly creepy to think about him lying there, calling for me for whatever his version of an hour is. That’s the hard thing about being The Favored One of the moment. When mommy is #1, daddy is chopped liver: “I hate Daddy; Don’t GO, Mommy, don’t go to work! I’ll miss you so much! Kiss me again before you leave! Don’t GO!!!! Just stay while I do this thing here. Just wait til I’m asleep to go. The radio says ICY, Mommy, don’t go!” It’s nice to be loved, but you’re smothered in it, and there’s the climbing of your body as if you are a jungle gym, the leaning against you wherever you are, the crawling into your bed at night because “I missed you, Mommy”, the waking up in the middle of the night yelling “I love you! Mommy! I love you!” over and over until he gets a response. Like with a domineering boyfriend, I feel guilty when I leave or when I’m so suffocated by the love that I wish he would just GO AWAY for 5 minutes and leave me alone. Hopefully it’s E’s turn to be numero uno soon.
*****
Also, I’m very dirty. And sick. Boyo always sweetly shares his coughs and stuffy noses. And did I shower yesterday? No, I did not. Do I plan to shower today? No again. Do I plan to lie in bed in the sweatshirt I stole from my husband and I’m not supposed to wear on pain of death, watching a children’s movie and eating popcorn with my son? Yes. And I also am not doing the dishes and I’m taking a nap. I’ve had a rough week. Just so you don’t think I’m a total loser, I did do laundry today. Which involves dragging my stank clothes to the laundromat and paying exorbitant amounts of money to the giant washing machines, so it really IS a big deal. And I think my hair looks better a little dirty. Really.
Because you can tell a lot about a person by his or her music, I present my MP3 playlist for tonight at work:
Andrew Bird, Armchair Apocrypha
M. Ward, End of Amnesia
Norah Jones, Not Too Late
Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
The Shins, Wincing the Night Away
The Decemberists, Five Songs
Beck, Sea Change
Cat Power, Myra Lee
Iron & Wine, He Lays in the Reins
All highly recommended, though Norah Jones is new and only once-listened to, her voice is just gorgeous and she does cover Patsy Cline’s Crazy, which you can’t hate on.
