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Baa baa meme sheep
Jun. 24th, 2008 05:23 pmVia ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fairoriana:
Post 3 things you've done in your lifetime that you don't think anybody else on your friends list has done.
See if anybody else responds with "I've done that."
Ask your friends do this in their journals to see what unique things they've done.
1. I dyed monkeys different colors. (I tested their vision, too, but that seems less outre.)
2. I interviewed Transylvanian villagers about their parenting practices.
3. I chauffeured Mary Daly around in my car.
Edited to add: I thought this one seemed familiar! The last time it came around there were ten things. I am interested to see that the Transylvanian one came out in the exact same words, years apart.
fairoriana:Post 3 things you've done in your lifetime that you don't think anybody else on your friends list has done.
See if anybody else responds with "I've done that."
Ask your friends do this in their journals to see what unique things they've done.
1. I dyed monkeys different colors. (I tested their vision, too, but that seems less outre.)
2. I interviewed Transylvanian villagers about their parenting practices.
3. I chauffeured Mary Daly around in my car.
Edited to add: I thought this one seemed familiar! The last time it came around there were ten things. I am interested to see that the Transylvanian one came out in the exact same words, years apart.
Clean-ish bill of health.
May. 1st, 2008 12:47 pmI had a complete physical this morning for the first time in... jeez. I don't know. I don't take any ongoing medications and I've been able to have my Pap smears done by my midwives for the last few years, so I've just never been motivated to see my primary care doctor unless I was sick.
I saw her last month for an ear and sinus infection, though, and she pretty much made me sign up for a physical. I worked myself up into a minor state of stress beforehand, figuring that she would lecture me about losing weight and that I would need to figure out what to say to her.
Except for pregnancy - and literally just for pregnancy; I was below my prepregnancy weight a month after Alex was born, thanks to the revolutionary new "extreme stress verging on nervous breakdown" diet) - my weight has remained steadily between 165 and 168 pounds for at least the past seven or eight years. According to the BMI tables, this makes me 21-24 pounds "overweight," and 7-10 pounds shy of "obese." Since physicals are supposed to address ongoing health issues, it seemed likely that my weight would come up. I dreaded it.
"I'm not willing to consider dieting," I told the mirror in her office bathroom. "Research shows that 95% of dieters regain the weight within five years, and that repeatedly losing and regaining weight has more health consequences than staying steady at a higher weight."
Back in the exam room, the nurse checked my blood pressure (excellent) and pulse (excellent). My doctor came in and checked my blood sugar and kidney function with a urine dip test (normal). She went over my family health history, looked at my ears and throat, listened to my heart and lungs, felt my lymph nodes, did a breast exam, palpated my (pudgy) abdomen, asked about some weird little lumps on my feet, checked my standing posture, asked a couple of probing questions about my post-miscarriage mental health.
As we talked, she filled out a lab slip: complete blood count, cholesterol, comprehensive metabolic panel, thyroid level and thyroid antibodies (there's a family history).
I brought up my two health concerns: potential long-term damage from my acid reflux disease, and irregular menstrual cycles since my miscarriage. She was concerned about the first but not the second. Apparently I shouldn't be having any breakthrough heartburn when I take over-the-counter acid reducers - which I do, more often than not. She gave me a booklet on lifestyle changes and a bunch of free samples of Prevacid, and added serum amylase and H. pylori tests to my lab slip. I'm supposed to go back and see her in a month to get my lab results and discuss whether the Prevacid is working - she'll decide then whether I need an endoscopy. I'm relieved that she didn't send me for one immediately. (She's usually very big on precautionary testing.)
Her major concerns:
1. I always need to wear my orthotics, because my feet suck. (She was a physical therapist before she went to med school.)
2. We need to get my reflux under control.
3. I need to try not to be anxious and stressed-out about conceiving again.
That was it. Not a word about my weight.
I suppose that she may be waiting to bring up weight loss until she sees the results of my lab tests. But they weighed me, and that would've been enough ammunition for most doctors. So yay, for now.
("But don't you realize fat is unhealthy?" Before posting a comment to that effect, please click here.)
I saw her last month for an ear and sinus infection, though, and she pretty much made me sign up for a physical. I worked myself up into a minor state of stress beforehand, figuring that she would lecture me about losing weight and that I would need to figure out what to say to her.
Except for pregnancy - and literally just for pregnancy; I was below my prepregnancy weight a month after Alex was born, thanks to the revolutionary new "extreme stress verging on nervous breakdown" diet) - my weight has remained steadily between 165 and 168 pounds for at least the past seven or eight years. According to the BMI tables, this makes me 21-24 pounds "overweight," and 7-10 pounds shy of "obese." Since physicals are supposed to address ongoing health issues, it seemed likely that my weight would come up. I dreaded it.
"I'm not willing to consider dieting," I told the mirror in her office bathroom. "Research shows that 95% of dieters regain the weight within five years, and that repeatedly losing and regaining weight has more health consequences than staying steady at a higher weight."
Back in the exam room, the nurse checked my blood pressure (excellent) and pulse (excellent). My doctor came in and checked my blood sugar and kidney function with a urine dip test (normal). She went over my family health history, looked at my ears and throat, listened to my heart and lungs, felt my lymph nodes, did a breast exam, palpated my (pudgy) abdomen, asked about some weird little lumps on my feet, checked my standing posture, asked a couple of probing questions about my post-miscarriage mental health.
As we talked, she filled out a lab slip: complete blood count, cholesterol, comprehensive metabolic panel, thyroid level and thyroid antibodies (there's a family history).
I brought up my two health concerns: potential long-term damage from my acid reflux disease, and irregular menstrual cycles since my miscarriage. She was concerned about the first but not the second. Apparently I shouldn't be having any breakthrough heartburn when I take over-the-counter acid reducers - which I do, more often than not. She gave me a booklet on lifestyle changes and a bunch of free samples of Prevacid, and added serum amylase and H. pylori tests to my lab slip. I'm supposed to go back and see her in a month to get my lab results and discuss whether the Prevacid is working - she'll decide then whether I need an endoscopy. I'm relieved that she didn't send me for one immediately. (She's usually very big on precautionary testing.)
Her major concerns:
1. I always need to wear my orthotics, because my feet suck. (She was a physical therapist before she went to med school.)
2. We need to get my reflux under control.
3. I need to try not to be anxious and stressed-out about conceiving again.
That was it. Not a word about my weight.
I suppose that she may be waiting to bring up weight loss until she sees the results of my lab tests. But they weighed me, and that would've been enough ammunition for most doctors. So yay, for now.
("But don't you realize fat is unhealthy?" Before posting a comment to that effect, please click here.)
Pleasantly busy day.
Apr. 19th, 2008 08:42 pmThis morning Alex and I went out to brunch with roozle and jonsinger and several of their friends. A good time was had by all, I think. Jon brought lots of pottery for show and tell. The Reed College grading system came up in conversation for the second time in two days, but this time I didn't rediscover a long-lost friend thereby.
Afterwards I took Alex to the mall for a massive Shopping Expotition. She got two pairs of sandals. What can I say, they were buy-one-get-one-half-price, and it does kind of make sense to have one sport pair and one slightly dressy (but still eminently run-and-playable) pair. She became aquainted with one of my few rigid rules about gendered clothing: she can try on anything she wants, but I will not buy shoes that don't permit running. "I'll just walk slowly, Mama," she assured me as she shuffled along in slippery-soled hard-plastic Barbie thongs with electronic light-up thingies. Yeah, no kidding. That's why you can't have them.
We bought invitations for our housewarming party and cards for Alex's thank-you notes. I bought a pair of khakis and two V-neck T-shirts. I failed to find shoes at the Clark's outlet. We bought some cloth napkins for everyday home use, because we aspire to make that transition. And! I bought the absolute best new purse ever, which is to say that it's almost exactly like my old purse, with the only changes being slight improvements.
I don't think I'm hard to satisfy when it comes to purses, except that I must be because I have a hell of a time finding them. Here's what I like: black, structured, large enough to hold a paperback book and/or a couple of small toys in addition to my regular equipment, and plain. I don't want flashy fittings or little doohickeys hanging off it or a pattern on the leather or, well, anything. That's hard to find.
I've been carrying the same black, structured, extremely tailored and sleek Liz Claiborne purse for at least five years now. It's held up beautifully, and it's just exactly what I like, so I was pretty traumatized when the straps began to fray where they hang over my shoulder. I tried a few stores, including the Liz Claiborne store at the mall, with no luck. But then! There was a "Liz Claiborne shoe outlet," and I noticed that they had purses. And there, in a corner, on a rack labeled "take an additional 40% off"... one that was almost exactly like my old purse, only newer. They've moved the external PDA/iPod pocket to the inside, which strikes me as a good idea. It's slightly larger - big enough to hold a small trade paperback, not just a mass-market paperback. And the lining is a sort of a dull red color, which I think will make it easier to find stuff inside. But otherwise? It's my old purse. Observe the restrained black structured lack-of-decoration. Yay.
We finished off the shopping trip with ice cream and came on home. I took a nap. Michael and Alex weeded the yard. Then we had sushi to celebrate Michael's final night as the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore's treasurer. And Alex? You know, Alex the underweight and picky toddler whose favorite words at the dinner table are "I don't liiiike..."? Twenty-eight pound Alex? Ate eight pieces of nigiri and a piece of salmon roll. They weren't the biggest pieces of nigiri in the world, but they weren't the smallest, either. Three pieces of shrimp, two pieces of maguro tuna, one piece each of salmon, red snapper, crab stick, and salmon roll. The only thing she turned down was the eel. This is a kid who won't eat potatoes. Or hamburgers. I don't think she was supposed to have been born to Americans.
Tomorrow's schedule: church, church annual meeting, church Seder. Due to my unwisdom in posting to LJ about being able to cook well,acceberskoorb assigned me a complicated recipe to bring. I guess I'd better hit the supermarket and get right on that. It seems unlikely that there will be time to make it tomorrow.
roozle and jonsinger and several of their friends. A good time was had by all, I think. Jon brought lots of pottery for show and tell. The Reed College grading system came up in conversation for the second time in two days, but this time I didn't rediscover a long-lost friend thereby.Afterwards I took Alex to the mall for a massive Shopping Expotition. She got two pairs of sandals. What can I say, they were buy-one-get-one-half-price, and it does kind of make sense to have one sport pair and one slightly dressy (but still eminently run-and-playable) pair. She became aquainted with one of my few rigid rules about gendered clothing: she can try on anything she wants, but I will not buy shoes that don't permit running. "I'll just walk slowly, Mama," she assured me as she shuffled along in slippery-soled hard-plastic Barbie thongs with electronic light-up thingies. Yeah, no kidding. That's why you can't have them.
We bought invitations for our housewarming party and cards for Alex's thank-you notes. I bought a pair of khakis and two V-neck T-shirts. I failed to find shoes at the Clark's outlet. We bought some cloth napkins for everyday home use, because we aspire to make that transition. And! I bought the absolute best new purse ever, which is to say that it's almost exactly like my old purse, with the only changes being slight improvements.
I don't think I'm hard to satisfy when it comes to purses, except that I must be because I have a hell of a time finding them. Here's what I like: black, structured, large enough to hold a paperback book and/or a couple of small toys in addition to my regular equipment, and plain. I don't want flashy fittings or little doohickeys hanging off it or a pattern on the leather or, well, anything. That's hard to find.
I've been carrying the same black, structured, extremely tailored and sleek Liz Claiborne purse for at least five years now. It's held up beautifully, and it's just exactly what I like, so I was pretty traumatized when the straps began to fray where they hang over my shoulder. I tried a few stores, including the Liz Claiborne store at the mall, with no luck. But then! There was a "Liz Claiborne shoe outlet," and I noticed that they had purses. And there, in a corner, on a rack labeled "take an additional 40% off"... one that was almost exactly like my old purse, only newer. They've moved the external PDA/iPod pocket to the inside, which strikes me as a good idea. It's slightly larger - big enough to hold a small trade paperback, not just a mass-market paperback. And the lining is a sort of a dull red color, which I think will make it easier to find stuff inside. But otherwise? It's my old purse. Observe the restrained black structured lack-of-decoration. Yay.
We finished off the shopping trip with ice cream and came on home. I took a nap. Michael and Alex weeded the yard. Then we had sushi to celebrate Michael's final night as the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore's treasurer. And Alex? You know, Alex the underweight and picky toddler whose favorite words at the dinner table are "I don't liiiike..."? Twenty-eight pound Alex? Ate eight pieces of nigiri and a piece of salmon roll. They weren't the biggest pieces of nigiri in the world, but they weren't the smallest, either. Three pieces of shrimp, two pieces of maguro tuna, one piece each of salmon, red snapper, crab stick, and salmon roll. The only thing she turned down was the eel. This is a kid who won't eat potatoes. Or hamburgers. I don't think she was supposed to have been born to Americans.
Tomorrow's schedule: church, church annual meeting, church Seder. Due to my unwisdom in posting to LJ about being able to cook well,
acceberskoorb assigned me a complicated recipe to bring. I guess I'd better hit the supermarket and get right on that. It seems unlikely that there will be time to make it tomorrow.Still no DSL and other moving updates.
Mar. 11th, 2008 12:04 pmStill drowning in a thousand little problems and inconveniences associated with the move. I think that eventually this will be a wonderful house to live in, and we'll be very happy there. Right now? Things are pretty frustrating.
More entries for the Big Bulleted List Of Frustration:( Read more... )
All of these things are surmountable. In fact, many of them have already been surmounted. It's just that cumulatively they are discouraging and exhausting. On top of all of the work trying to get settled into the new house, we're trying to clean the old house and move the last five percent of our stuff. At least the new house is close enough to the old house that the baby monitor works across both places, so we can go over late at night to clean. Except for the part where, late at night, we would really rather be in bed.
Alex initially took the move very well - she was excited and happy to come home to the new house and discover all our things there. In recent days, it has finally sunk in that we won't ever be going back to live in our old house again, and she's having some trouble with that. She doesn't really understand why. I think, in her mind, the move was just like when we go to visit someone else's house and bring some of our own things - except on a larger scale. So it's like going on vacation and then never coming back home. We totally forgot to include the permanency factor when we were explaining things to her in advance.
Also, she is not happy that (until late last night) we didn't have the TV/VCR/DVD/TiVO equipment hooked up yet. She's never been allowed to watch much TV (one video a day unless she's sick, and often no TV at all on school days), but apparently not having the option to watch anything is the everything-is-different straw that broke the camel's back.
Her stress is manifesting as (a) excessive sleepiness, and (b) whining and tantrums. Which might be related to the excessive sleepiness. She melts down all evening until we can get her into bed, and then she sleeps so late in the morning that I have to wake her for nursery school, to which we are thus inevitably late. This is not a particularly fun parenting cycle. It took us until late last night to realize that, duh, this is probably moving stress and not just Alex suddenly becoming an awful person. Hopefully that realization will make us more tolerant... except that, you know, we're pretty stressed out too.
Someday soon we will have gotten enough of the extra moving work done that I will be able to take a long hot bath in my new clawfoot bathtub. And then everything will be okay. Right?
More entries for the Big Bulleted List Of Frustration:( Read more... )
All of these things are surmountable. In fact, many of them have already been surmounted. It's just that cumulatively they are discouraging and exhausting. On top of all of the work trying to get settled into the new house, we're trying to clean the old house and move the last five percent of our stuff. At least the new house is close enough to the old house that the baby monitor works across both places, so we can go over late at night to clean. Except for the part where, late at night, we would really rather be in bed.
Alex initially took the move very well - she was excited and happy to come home to the new house and discover all our things there. In recent days, it has finally sunk in that we won't ever be going back to live in our old house again, and she's having some trouble with that. She doesn't really understand why. I think, in her mind, the move was just like when we go to visit someone else's house and bring some of our own things - except on a larger scale. So it's like going on vacation and then never coming back home. We totally forgot to include the permanency factor when we were explaining things to her in advance.
Also, she is not happy that (until late last night) we didn't have the TV/VCR/DVD/TiVO equipment hooked up yet. She's never been allowed to watch much TV (one video a day unless she's sick, and often no TV at all on school days), but apparently not having the option to watch anything is the everything-is-different straw that broke the camel's back.
Her stress is manifesting as (a) excessive sleepiness, and (b) whining and tantrums. Which might be related to the excessive sleepiness. She melts down all evening until we can get her into bed, and then she sleeps so late in the morning that I have to wake her for nursery school, to which we are thus inevitably late. This is not a particularly fun parenting cycle. It took us until late last night to realize that, duh, this is probably moving stress and not just Alex suddenly becoming an awful person. Hopefully that realization will make us more tolerant... except that, you know, we're pretty stressed out too.
Someday soon we will have gotten enough of the extra moving work done that I will be able to take a long hot bath in my new clawfoot bathtub. And then everything will be okay. Right?
(no subject)
Mar. 3rd, 2008 09:04 pmWould anyone out there be willing to make an icon for me with this picture? I pulled it off a site advertising stock, royalty-free images. I'd like it to say "Rivka, P.I." in a 40's-appropriate typeface.
I'd be very grateful!
I'd be very grateful!
 |
(no subject)
Mar. 2nd, 2008 08:50 pmIt's been a long slog of a weekend (and I should be packing right now, not posting to LJ) but we've made fantastic progress. It's quite satisfying to watch everything come together - to look around a room and think, "Well, there's not much more I can actually pack in here."
We got the keys to the new house on Friday afternoon. Friday evening I ceremoniously carried the first box over (Christmas ornaments - light, but bulky and fragile and incredibly in the way) and put it in the basement. We've loaded some other things directly into the basement, moved some of Alex's toys so she'd have something to play with when we're at the new house, and put a dozen boxes of books onto the built-in shelves in the master bedroom. A few hundred books sure make a room look lived-in, even when it doesn't have any furniture in it.
Astounding progress on the Old Home front: we (mostly Michael) totally cleared out our crawlspace storage area, which had been packed to the gills. We've thrown out ungodly amounts of junk. Another carload of stuff went to Goodwill and to The Book Thing, a free-book giveaway. Michael recycled a huge pile of ancient computer components. We disassembled the bed and wardrobe in the guest room. And box after box has been packed: baby toys and blankets, framed photos, booze (cartons 1 and 2), piano music, manuals for all our electronics, candles and candleholders.
It's kind of amazing that we've given or thrown so much away, and still have so much stuff left over. SO MUCH stuff. Even after we've packed the rational collections of possessions into boxes, there is so much left that's just... misc.
Alex is the healthiest sick kid I've ever seen. She's clingy, and congested, but not notably ill-appearing. We have still chosen to follow our normal sick-kid rule of unlimited TV, because it makes moving much more convenient and because we are bad parents.
It's hilarious to watch her try to game the rules. She's ostentatiously sick when she wants to watch videos or have her pacifier at sometime other than bedtime.[1] On the other hand, she isn't sick when she wants to help cook dinner and get her germy hands all over our food. She got her signals crossed yesterday and insisted at length that she wasn't sick in order to get a glass of milk... which I would've given her just for the asking, given that her stomach isn't affected this time. I guess she remembers that milk was prohibited when she had that stomach bug.
She's taking the move really well. She likes going over to the new house, and helped me unpack some books and scrub down the pantry shelves. (Either the new landlord decided not to send a cleaning crew because time was short and we really wanted to get in there, or he needs to fire his cleaners.) She doesn't seem at all concerned about leaving some of her toys there. We'll see how she takes the actual transfer of all our possessions, and the part where she actually has to sleep in her new room.
Me, I'm so excited about sleeping in my new room. As long as the curtains I ordered get here before Thursday, which is moving day. Yaaaaaay, new house!
[1] I know, I know, she should've given up the paci long ago. See "bad parents," above.
We got the keys to the new house on Friday afternoon. Friday evening I ceremoniously carried the first box over (Christmas ornaments - light, but bulky and fragile and incredibly in the way) and put it in the basement. We've loaded some other things directly into the basement, moved some of Alex's toys so she'd have something to play with when we're at the new house, and put a dozen boxes of books onto the built-in shelves in the master bedroom. A few hundred books sure make a room look lived-in, even when it doesn't have any furniture in it.
Astounding progress on the Old Home front: we (mostly Michael) totally cleared out our crawlspace storage area, which had been packed to the gills. We've thrown out ungodly amounts of junk. Another carload of stuff went to Goodwill and to The Book Thing, a free-book giveaway. Michael recycled a huge pile of ancient computer components. We disassembled the bed and wardrobe in the guest room. And box after box has been packed: baby toys and blankets, framed photos, booze (cartons 1 and 2), piano music, manuals for all our electronics, candles and candleholders.
It's kind of amazing that we've given or thrown so much away, and still have so much stuff left over. SO MUCH stuff. Even after we've packed the rational collections of possessions into boxes, there is so much left that's just... misc.
Alex is the healthiest sick kid I've ever seen. She's clingy, and congested, but not notably ill-appearing. We have still chosen to follow our normal sick-kid rule of unlimited TV, because it makes moving much more convenient and because we are bad parents.
It's hilarious to watch her try to game the rules. She's ostentatiously sick when she wants to watch videos or have her pacifier at sometime other than bedtime.[1] On the other hand, she isn't sick when she wants to help cook dinner and get her germy hands all over our food. She got her signals crossed yesterday and insisted at length that she wasn't sick in order to get a glass of milk... which I would've given her just for the asking, given that her stomach isn't affected this time. I guess she remembers that milk was prohibited when she had that stomach bug.
She's taking the move really well. She likes going over to the new house, and helped me unpack some books and scrub down the pantry shelves. (Either the new landlord decided not to send a cleaning crew because time was short and we really wanted to get in there, or he needs to fire his cleaners.) She doesn't seem at all concerned about leaving some of her toys there. We'll see how she takes the actual transfer of all our possessions, and the part where she actually has to sleep in her new room.
Me, I'm so excited about sleeping in my new room. As long as the curtains I ordered get here before Thursday, which is moving day. Yaaaaaay, new house!
[1] I know, I know, she should've given up the paci long ago. See "bad parents," above.
What. A. Night.
I had trouble falling asleep. My mind kept running over useless annoying minutia until around 1:30am, when I finally dropped off.
Then at 3 I was awake again, with a vicious attack of heartburn. I chewed some of the Tums I keep on the bedside table, dozed a bit, woke in pain again after a couple of minutes. At 3:30 I gave up. I got out of bed, wrapped up in my robe, took two Tagamet, and sat upright for half an hour waiting for them to kick in and quell the production of stomach acid.
At 4 I went back to bed. Again it took me a long time to settle my mind, but I was beginning to drift by about 4:30. Then I heard a yell over the baby monitor.
"Mom! Is it time to get up yet?"
Fuck. Me.
I wrapped up in my robe again and went upstairs. Alex was running a fever all day yesterday, and she looked flushed and exhausted as she lay in the crib. I gave her a dose of Tylenol, found her sippy cup of water that had slipped down in the crib, covered her up with her special blanket, started her lullabye CD, stroked her hair, told her good night. Went downstairs and got back into bed. Tried to ignore the music now seeping through the baby monitor.
A few minutes later, loud and clear over the monitor: "Hooray for Alex!!"
Ten minutes later: "More water!"
I held my breath and waited, hoping that she would fall asleep any moment, but a few minutes later she repeated the call. "Water, please! More water!"
Wrapped up in my robe again. Stalked up the stairs and took the sippy cup from her outstretched hand. Stalked down to the bathroom to fill it up with water. Brought it back to her. Said through gritted teeth: "Alex, you must go back to sleep. No more yelling. This is Papa and Mama's sleeping time. Do you understand?" She nodded.
Back downstairs. It was 5am. I crawled into bed and listened to lullabyes through the monitor for a few minutes. Alex was quiet. Finally I drifted off to sleep.
Michael's alarm rang at 6am, waking me up. But mercifully I fell back asleep immediately, and didn't wake up until around 8:15. (I'm waiting at home with Alex until 9 or 9:30, and then Michael will come home and take over so that I can go to work.) Right now she's still asleep.
What. A. Night. I guess it adds up to almost five hours, but it certainly doesn't feel that way.
I had trouble falling asleep. My mind kept running over useless annoying minutia until around 1:30am, when I finally dropped off.
Then at 3 I was awake again, with a vicious attack of heartburn. I chewed some of the Tums I keep on the bedside table, dozed a bit, woke in pain again after a couple of minutes. At 3:30 I gave up. I got out of bed, wrapped up in my robe, took two Tagamet, and sat upright for half an hour waiting for them to kick in and quell the production of stomach acid.
At 4 I went back to bed. Again it took me a long time to settle my mind, but I was beginning to drift by about 4:30. Then I heard a yell over the baby monitor.
"Mom! Is it time to get up yet?"
Fuck. Me.
I wrapped up in my robe again and went upstairs. Alex was running a fever all day yesterday, and she looked flushed and exhausted as she lay in the crib. I gave her a dose of Tylenol, found her sippy cup of water that had slipped down in the crib, covered her up with her special blanket, started her lullabye CD, stroked her hair, told her good night. Went downstairs and got back into bed. Tried to ignore the music now seeping through the baby monitor.
A few minutes later, loud and clear over the monitor: "Hooray for Alex!!"
Ten minutes later: "More water!"
I held my breath and waited, hoping that she would fall asleep any moment, but a few minutes later she repeated the call. "Water, please! More water!"
Wrapped up in my robe again. Stalked up the stairs and took the sippy cup from her outstretched hand. Stalked down to the bathroom to fill it up with water. Brought it back to her. Said through gritted teeth: "Alex, you must go back to sleep. No more yelling. This is Papa and Mama's sleeping time. Do you understand?" She nodded.
Back downstairs. It was 5am. I crawled into bed and listened to lullabyes through the monitor for a few minutes. Alex was quiet. Finally I drifted off to sleep.
Michael's alarm rang at 6am, waking me up. But mercifully I fell back asleep immediately, and didn't wake up until around 8:15. (I'm waiting at home with Alex until 9 or 9:30, and then Michael will come home and take over so that I can go to work.) Right now she's still asleep.
What. A. Night. I guess it adds up to almost five hours, but it certainly doesn't feel that way.
I just got an e-mail through Flickr, which purports to be from an employee of the Flemish Ministry for Education and Training. In Belgium.
Dear Ms,
I'm asking you this question on behalf of the Ministry of
Education and Training, in Flanders, Belgium, Europe.
Could I use one of the photo's you posted on flickr.com -
e.g.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/rivka/540584772/
or a similar photo - on our nursery education website at
www.onderwijs.vlaanderen.be/jaarvandekleuter ?
Many thanks in advance.
Best regards,
Luc Stoops
Flemish Ministry for Education and Training
Brussels,Belgium, Europe
luc.stoops@ond.vlaanderen.be
Huh.
Any reason why I shouldn't give my okay? I can't imagine a more innocuous, share-able picture.
Dear Ms,
I'm asking you this question on behalf of the Ministry of
Education and Training, in Flanders, Belgium, Europe.
Could I use one of the photo's you posted on flickr.com -
e.g.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/rivka/540584772/
or a similar photo - on our nursery education website at
www.onderwijs.vlaanderen.be/jaarvandekleuter ?
Many thanks in advance.
Best regards,
Luc Stoops
Flemish Ministry for Education and Training
Brussels,Belgium, Europe
luc.stoops@ond.vlaanderen.be
Huh.
Any reason why I shouldn't give my okay? I can't imagine a more innocuous, share-able picture.
We've started the sorting/discarding/organizing process which will one day lead to packing. Yesterday Michael took a first load of stuff to Goodwill: five big bags of old clothes and toys, and a chair. We've also gotten rid of three 30-gallon bags' worth of trash. It's a good start... but it's also just a tiny dent in our three-story house full of stuff.
We're not precisely pack rats. We don't have emotional attachments to most of these things, or vague ideas that someday they'll turn out to be useful. It's more a problem of inertia. Things come into the house and get stowed away, and when they've outlived their usefulness we just never get around to throwing them out. We probably have more storage space than is really good for us.
I filled a 30-gallon trash bag just with things that were in my desk, on my desk, or stacked behind my desk in the little space between my chair and the wall. The black cardboard folder I used when I was planning our wedding, with rough drafts of the guest list, extra invitations, and sample menus from the restaurant where we held the reception. Cartoons one of my old housemates drew of my ex. The Lesbian Avengers handbook. Every single card we received when Alex was born. A highlighted guide to the competitive races in the 2006 election. A list of books I read in March of last year. Old Mac-formatted backup disks with my college senior thesis on them. Back issues of Mouth magazine. Printed-out drafts of academic papers. Posters I once presented at conferences. Manuals for electronics I no longer own. A 56k modem card which, if I recall correctly, doesn't even work, and which belonged to a laptop I got rid of in, um, 2002?
It's kind of exhiliarating to get this stuff cleared away. And it feels so good to imagine moving only needed, useful, appreciated things into our new house. The new house will have vast quantities of storage - there's a full basement - but we will not just move our junk.
Keeping the new house decluttered is going to be a different story, though. Anyone have good decluttering or clutter-prevention resources to recommend? Anything that's actually, you know, follow-able?
We're not precisely pack rats. We don't have emotional attachments to most of these things, or vague ideas that someday they'll turn out to be useful. It's more a problem of inertia. Things come into the house and get stowed away, and when they've outlived their usefulness we just never get around to throwing them out. We probably have more storage space than is really good for us.
I filled a 30-gallon trash bag just with things that were in my desk, on my desk, or stacked behind my desk in the little space between my chair and the wall. The black cardboard folder I used when I was planning our wedding, with rough drafts of the guest list, extra invitations, and sample menus from the restaurant where we held the reception. Cartoons one of my old housemates drew of my ex. The Lesbian Avengers handbook. Every single card we received when Alex was born. A highlighted guide to the competitive races in the 2006 election. A list of books I read in March of last year. Old Mac-formatted backup disks with my college senior thesis on them. Back issues of Mouth magazine. Printed-out drafts of academic papers. Posters I once presented at conferences. Manuals for electronics I no longer own. A 56k modem card which, if I recall correctly, doesn't even work, and which belonged to a laptop I got rid of in, um, 2002?
It's kind of exhiliarating to get this stuff cleared away. And it feels so good to imagine moving only needed, useful, appreciated things into our new house. The new house will have vast quantities of storage - there's a full basement - but we will not just move our junk.
Keeping the new house decluttered is going to be a different story, though. Anyone have good decluttering or clutter-prevention resources to recommend? Anything that's actually, you know, follow-able?
Clothes purge.
Nov. 12th, 2007 12:01 pmThe corner of our bedroom has been an out-of-control pile of laundry for a long time. We have laundry bins there for whites, colors, and linens; those are well-maintained and regularly emptied. Our problem was the fourth bin, originally designed for clothes needing special treatment (such as dry cleaning). Eventually it overflowed to take over the whole corner with a huge and jumbled mishmash of dry cleaning, mending, outgrown things, hopelessly stained things, and random regular clothes which landed there after falling out of a laundry basket or getting kicked out of the way or something.
Last Friday, Michael saw a mouse. That provided immediate incentive to get our damn clothes off the damn floor, so this weekend we tackled the whole pile. We packed up the clothes into organized bundles of dry cleaning, Goodwill donations, rags, and trash.
I then decided to tackle my closet. I pulled out all the clothes that I rarely wear and tried them on. If something didn't fit or I didn't like it, I put it in the Goodwill pile. And the Goodwill pile got huge.
What struck me, as the rejected clothes piled higher and higher, was the number of things in my closet that I had never liked. I wore them, not because they looked good on me or because I thought they were pretty, but because they were my clothes. The biggest offender in this category: Empire-waisted dresses. I have big breasts and a short torso and a belly, and Empire waists are possibly the least flattering clothing style possible for my body type. I put, like, four of them into the Goodwill pile. Halfway through pulling one of them over my head to try it on, I stopped and realized, "You've never liked this dress. Why would you care whether it fits?" I had no answer.
Why did I wear so many clothes that I thought were ugly? Because I hate shopping, and I didn't look beyond the basics of "what respectable, not-too-expensive clothes do Lands End and Eddie Bauer have, that I could wear to work?", and I didn't return frumpy things that my mother bought me. Because I just bought the first affordable thing I saw when I shopped, instead of stopping to consider questions like "Would another style be more flattering?" or "Shouldn't you look further and find one that isn't acrylic?" Because they were clothes. Because I didn't want to look at myself too closely. Because I didn't really think I could look any better than I did. Because I didn't think it mattered if I hated the way I looked. Because I was on crutches and in chronic pain and shopping was the last thing I wanted to spend time and energy on. Because, in short, of a variety of things that don't make much sense in retrospect.
I haven't worn those things for a long time, but I didn't throw them out. They just hung out there in the back of the closet. It turns out that crushed in with the stuff I didn't really like were a few pieces that I do like, and totally forgot about because I couldn't find them. Like a couple of long-sleeved tailored blouses, one in deep royal blue and one in dark red. I had pretty much written off button-down shirts because they never look right on my chest, but these two fit great and look great. Huh.
I'd like to pare down even more. I'd like to get rid of everything I have that doesn't look good on me or make me feel good, even if it means that I have to do laundry a lot more often for a while. Because, really, wouldn't it be better to have five outfits that really work for me rather than twenty outfits that make me feel blah?
Last Friday, Michael saw a mouse. That provided immediate incentive to get our damn clothes off the damn floor, so this weekend we tackled the whole pile. We packed up the clothes into organized bundles of dry cleaning, Goodwill donations, rags, and trash.
I then decided to tackle my closet. I pulled out all the clothes that I rarely wear and tried them on. If something didn't fit or I didn't like it, I put it in the Goodwill pile. And the Goodwill pile got huge.
What struck me, as the rejected clothes piled higher and higher, was the number of things in my closet that I had never liked. I wore them, not because they looked good on me or because I thought they were pretty, but because they were my clothes. The biggest offender in this category: Empire-waisted dresses. I have big breasts and a short torso and a belly, and Empire waists are possibly the least flattering clothing style possible for my body type. I put, like, four of them into the Goodwill pile. Halfway through pulling one of them over my head to try it on, I stopped and realized, "You've never liked this dress. Why would you care whether it fits?" I had no answer.
Why did I wear so many clothes that I thought were ugly? Because I hate shopping, and I didn't look beyond the basics of "what respectable, not-too-expensive clothes do Lands End and Eddie Bauer have, that I could wear to work?", and I didn't return frumpy things that my mother bought me. Because I just bought the first affordable thing I saw when I shopped, instead of stopping to consider questions like "Would another style be more flattering?" or "Shouldn't you look further and find one that isn't acrylic?" Because they were clothes. Because I didn't want to look at myself too closely. Because I didn't really think I could look any better than I did. Because I didn't think it mattered if I hated the way I looked. Because I was on crutches and in chronic pain and shopping was the last thing I wanted to spend time and energy on. Because, in short, of a variety of things that don't make much sense in retrospect.
I haven't worn those things for a long time, but I didn't throw them out. They just hung out there in the back of the closet. It turns out that crushed in with the stuff I didn't really like were a few pieces that I do like, and totally forgot about because I couldn't find them. Like a couple of long-sleeved tailored blouses, one in deep royal blue and one in dark red. I had pretty much written off button-down shirts because they never look right on my chest, but these two fit great and look great. Huh.
I'd like to pare down even more. I'd like to get rid of everything I have that doesn't look good on me or make me feel good, even if it means that I have to do laundry a lot more often for a while. Because, really, wouldn't it be better to have five outfits that really work for me rather than twenty outfits that make me feel blah?
A blessing from the shopping gods.
Jul. 13th, 2007 12:10 amOh, what a wonderful evening.
Michael and I had already arranged for a babysitter even before we realized that it was the tenth anniversary of our first kiss. Our plan was to go shopping to pick up some miscellaneous things we'd need for SUUSI, and then see the new Pixar movie, Ratatouille.
In a whirlwind shopping trip, we picked up two pairs of shorts and some new underpants for Alex (on our list), plus an adorable embroidered boatneck shirt and some new sunglasses (not on our list). Then we went down to the Eddie Bauer outlet, where I got two pairs of long shorts (desperately needed, and on the list) and two lovely V-neck T-shirts in pale green and cranberry red (not on the list, but too nice to resist).
Then it was on to the toy store. I wanted to get Alex a small present which we could produce in the car when she started to melt down about being tired of driving - we picked a small travel Magnadoodle, and also couldn't resist a 98-cent package of Superballs, which will go on our "rainy days and bad moods" shelf of dollar-store treats.
And then! With fifteen minutes left before our movie! We walked by a Clarks of England store, and I begged Michael to let us go in quickly and see if by any miraculous chance they had sandals that were remotely similar to the best sandals in the world.
See, I swear those things are the most wonderful and comfortable sandals I've ever owned. They've got removable footbeds, which means that by removing just the left footbed I can automatically compensate for my leg length discrepancy. I can squeeze by with wearing them to work, because mine is a relatively informal office. And did I mention that they are so! Insanely! Comfortable? ...They haven't been available anywhere online except in tiny micro-sizes. I've looked and looked, to no avail. But when we walked by the outlet, I suddenly thought, "Maybe they have other sandals with removable footbeds." So we went in.
And they had my sandals. The perfect ones! In my size!
As we waited in line at the interminably slow register, with the minutes ticking down towards our movie time, I asked one of the employees to see whether they had any other pairs in back. And they did... but only in a hideous charcoal-and-light-gray combination. "I'll just take the one pair," I said to the woman working the register. At which point, the man leaning over her shoulder and typing on her keyboard said, "I'm just checking to see if they have any more in the warehouse... if they do, we'll ship them to your home at no extra cost."
So now I have two brand-new pairs - or I will in a few days, after the pair I ordered from the warehouse ships - of the World's Best Sandals, the sandals I thought I would never be able to replace. And the man who ordered them for me gave me his card, and told me to give him a call if I want any more. *dreamy sigh*
Then we saw the movie, and it was amazing. But lots of other people have already posted about that. Go see it! (Especially if you love food. Or rats. Or Paris. Or CGI.)
Came home to discover that Alex had a dream evening with Dorian. Their relationship is something amazing. Dorian seems to enjoy it as much as Alex does. She reported that, while they were out for a walk, she asked where they were going and Alex told her, "We are going to California, you and me." Where has Alex even heard of California?
What a great night for all four of us! And for my happy, happy feet with their new-sandals-to-be. Yay.
Michael and I had already arranged for a babysitter even before we realized that it was the tenth anniversary of our first kiss. Our plan was to go shopping to pick up some miscellaneous things we'd need for SUUSI, and then see the new Pixar movie, Ratatouille.
In a whirlwind shopping trip, we picked up two pairs of shorts and some new underpants for Alex (on our list), plus an adorable embroidered boatneck shirt and some new sunglasses (not on our list). Then we went down to the Eddie Bauer outlet, where I got two pairs of long shorts (desperately needed, and on the list) and two lovely V-neck T-shirts in pale green and cranberry red (not on the list, but too nice to resist).
Then it was on to the toy store. I wanted to get Alex a small present which we could produce in the car when she started to melt down about being tired of driving - we picked a small travel Magnadoodle, and also couldn't resist a 98-cent package of Superballs, which will go on our "rainy days and bad moods" shelf of dollar-store treats.
And then! With fifteen minutes left before our movie! We walked by a Clarks of England store, and I begged Michael to let us go in quickly and see if by any miraculous chance they had sandals that were remotely similar to the best sandals in the world.
See, I swear those things are the most wonderful and comfortable sandals I've ever owned. They've got removable footbeds, which means that by removing just the left footbed I can automatically compensate for my leg length discrepancy. I can squeeze by with wearing them to work, because mine is a relatively informal office. And did I mention that they are so! Insanely! Comfortable? ...They haven't been available anywhere online except in tiny micro-sizes. I've looked and looked, to no avail. But when we walked by the outlet, I suddenly thought, "Maybe they have other sandals with removable footbeds." So we went in.
And they had my sandals. The perfect ones! In my size!
As we waited in line at the interminably slow register, with the minutes ticking down towards our movie time, I asked one of the employees to see whether they had any other pairs in back. And they did... but only in a hideous charcoal-and-light-gray combination. "I'll just take the one pair," I said to the woman working the register. At which point, the man leaning over her shoulder and typing on her keyboard said, "I'm just checking to see if they have any more in the warehouse... if they do, we'll ship them to your home at no extra cost."
So now I have two brand-new pairs - or I will in a few days, after the pair I ordered from the warehouse ships - of the World's Best Sandals, the sandals I thought I would never be able to replace. And the man who ordered them for me gave me his card, and told me to give him a call if I want any more. *dreamy sigh*
Then we saw the movie, and it was amazing. But lots of other people have already posted about that. Go see it! (Especially if you love food. Or rats. Or Paris. Or CGI.)
Came home to discover that Alex had a dream evening with Dorian. Their relationship is something amazing. Dorian seems to enjoy it as much as Alex does. She reported that, while they were out for a walk, she asked where they were going and Alex told her, "We are going to California, you and me." Where has Alex even heard of California?
What a great night for all four of us! And for my happy, happy feet with their new-sandals-to-be. Yay.
...but that day is not yet.
Today was Alex's second day of school. Again, they had Play-Doh out as an entering activity. Alex came into the classroom with a big smile and immediately made a beeline for the work table. We watched for five or ten minutes, and then told her we were leaving. This time, she cried. But she seems to have stopped as soon as the door closed. (We listened.)
I took yesterday off from work. Today I practiced my new way of getting to work: dropping Alex off at nursery school and then taking the light rail to campus. (Usually I take the bus.) I'm going to get quite a workout every day. It's a fifteen-minute brisk walk from our house to school, a five-minute walk back to the light rail stop, and then about a ten-minute walk from the campus light rail stop to my office. Great exercise! Except in bad weather.
Michael picked Alex up at noon. Her teacher told him that there was no more crying after we left, and that today she had no trouble allowing her diaper to be changed. She fussed a lot about leaving and coming home. I think that maybe on Friday we'll arrange for her to have lunch at school with the kids.
There were more kids today, including some bigger kids who have passed into the three-year-old class but, because they are not yet actually three, aren't allowed to go to the big swimming pool when their class does. So they spend Tuesday and Thursday mornings with the two-year-olds. In a week or two, "when the kids are more used to school and we're more used to the kids," Alex's class will get to play in wading pools in the courtyard when the big kids are at the pool. In the meantime, today they had water table play inside.
She has two days off, and then she'll go back on Friday.
Today was Alex's second day of school. Again, they had Play-Doh out as an entering activity. Alex came into the classroom with a big smile and immediately made a beeline for the work table. We watched for five or ten minutes, and then told her we were leaving. This time, she cried. But she seems to have stopped as soon as the door closed. (We listened.)
I took yesterday off from work. Today I practiced my new way of getting to work: dropping Alex off at nursery school and then taking the light rail to campus. (Usually I take the bus.) I'm going to get quite a workout every day. It's a fifteen-minute brisk walk from our house to school, a five-minute walk back to the light rail stop, and then about a ten-minute walk from the campus light rail stop to my office. Great exercise! Except in bad weather.
Michael picked Alex up at noon. Her teacher told him that there was no more crying after we left, and that today she had no trouble allowing her diaper to be changed. She fussed a lot about leaving and coming home. I think that maybe on Friday we'll arrange for her to have lunch at school with the kids.
There were more kids today, including some bigger kids who have passed into the three-year-old class but, because they are not yet actually three, aren't allowed to go to the big swimming pool when their class does. So they spend Tuesday and Thursday mornings with the two-year-olds. In a week or two, "when the kids are more used to school and we're more used to the kids," Alex's class will get to play in wading pools in the courtyard when the big kids are at the pool. In the meantime, today they had water table play inside.
She has two days off, and then she'll go back on Friday.
Dream logic.
Apr. 21st, 2007 01:29 pmThis morning, I dreamed that I had to drive somewhere to take care of an awful bureaucratic mess. I parked right behind the building, even though it was clearly marked as only for employees, reasoning that I'd be out before anyone noticed and towed me. Of course, it took much longer to deal with the business - which I think had to do with the car itself, paying fines or sorting out an expensive registration issue. Something like that.
I finished and walked behind the building, looking for my car, and realized - like a punch to my stomach - that I couldn't see it. I realized that it must have been towed. As I walked hopelessly through the parking lot totalling up the likely charges in my head (towing charge, impound charge, parking fine) and dreading the prospect of telling Michael that I'd been stupid enough to park the car illegally...
...suddenly I realized something. "Hey! I'm DREAMING! I didn't really park there! I don't have to deal with this at all!"
The whole scene dissolved away - literally, like a fancy film transition to another scene. Suddenly I was driving around with Michael, listening to him explain to me that he'd parked the car at a specific intersection, but he didn't know where those streets actually were. Much better.
I don't ever remember being able to do that before. I've managed to wake myself up out of a bad dream, but I've never managed to switch the dream around while it was happening. It was kind of neat.
I finished and walked behind the building, looking for my car, and realized - like a punch to my stomach - that I couldn't see it. I realized that it must have been towed. As I walked hopelessly through the parking lot totalling up the likely charges in my head (towing charge, impound charge, parking fine) and dreading the prospect of telling Michael that I'd been stupid enough to park the car illegally...
...suddenly I realized something. "Hey! I'm DREAMING! I didn't really park there! I don't have to deal with this at all!"
The whole scene dissolved away - literally, like a fancy film transition to another scene. Suddenly I was driving around with Michael, listening to him explain to me that he'd parked the car at a specific intersection, but he didn't know where those streets actually were. Much better.
I don't ever remember being able to do that before. I've managed to wake myself up out of a bad dream, but I've never managed to switch the dream around while it was happening. It was kind of neat.
Ludicrously comprehensive omnibus update.
Mar. 30th, 2007 11:31 pmMy recent sparse, spasmodic posting style has left a ridiculous number of narrative threads dangling, hasn't it? My apologies to those of you who are reading for anything other than the cute Alex stories... such as, say, a sense of how my life is going.
Attempting to tie up loose ends in one big unmanageable knot:
( My research assistants, Alex, Michael's job hunt, my work, SUUSI, forthcoming LJ posts, the adorable YouTube video with otters swimming around holding hands, me being Brenchley. )
Well, that was fun! If nothing else, it gave me a chance to use this icon, which I like but rarely have occasion to use.
Attempting to tie up loose ends in one big unmanageable knot:
( My research assistants, Alex, Michael's job hunt, my work, SUUSI, forthcoming LJ posts, the adorable YouTube video with otters swimming around holding hands, me being Brenchley. )
Well, that was fun! If nothing else, it gave me a chance to use this icon, which I like but rarely have occasion to use.
Tags:
I am Brenchley!
Mar. 24th, 2007 01:19 pmOr so papersky tells me.
Take a look at my stunning panorama! I have "fantastic timber-framed buildings and idyllic church."
You're welcome to come by for a singalong on May 8th at 7:30. Or just stroll in my lovely gardens!
I am currently 7 degrees C, and hazy.
papersky tells me.My name derives from the Anglo-Saxons who had a settlement in the area. The headman was named Braenca, and his people who were pig hearders lived in a clearing or "leagh" in the forest of Anderida hence Braenca's Leagh. This has varied through the centuries to Braencsle, Brencheslega, Branchelegh, Brenchesle and finally to Brenchley.I have quite an impressive history for such a small village. The Peasants' Revolt of 1381 was begun by one of my residents, and another was burned at the stake during the reign of Bloody Mary. My church is nearly 800 years old.
After the Norman Conquest in 1066, the land was given to Richard FitzGilbert, the cousin of William the Conqueror.
Take a look at my stunning panorama! I have "fantastic timber-framed buildings and idyllic church."
You're welcome to come by for a singalong on May 8th at 7:30. Or just stroll in my lovely gardens!
I am currently 7 degrees C, and hazy.
(no subject)
Mar. 12th, 2007 12:31 amI was checking the fridge in preparation for grocery shopping, and discovered a package of pork chops with a sell-by date of last Wednesday. Then I remembered buying them last weekend and intending to make pork chops with red potatoes. How embarrassing to be that out-of-touch with what's in my fridge - but this is exactly the kind of mistake I'm prone to making when I'm stressed and busy.
So here is our meal plan for the upcoming week, in black and white so I don't forget to cook anything:
So here is our meal plan for the upcoming week, in black and white so I don't forget to cook anything:
- Sunday: Smoked Gouda-stuffed hamburgers. And sugar snap peas, which were also hanging around the fridge hoping in vain that I'd remember having them.
- Monday: Pork chops with red potatoes and roasted red peppers. From a new package of pork chops, not the one that expired last Wednesday.
- Tuesday: Steak, to celebrate the job interview Michael has at Johns Hopkins that day.
- Wednesday: Sesame apricot chicken with rice, from Let's Dish.
- Thursday: Mexican pork wraps from Let's Dish - slow-cooked pork wrapped in tortillas.
- Friday: Smoked salmon and asparagus pasta. They had gorgeous cracked-pepper-crusted smoked sockeye at Safeway. (Say that three times fast.)
- Saturday: Chicken breasts. Maybe in a sherry sauce - I haven't done that in a while. I should've written down the directions for it when we were eating it once a week, because my memories of how to put the sauce together are kind of hazy. I think it had chicken broth and sherry and lemon juice and pepper and capers, but was that it?
Singing down memory lane.
Mar. 5th, 2007 08:00 pmtelerib just posted the marvelous news that Boston has named their reloadable RFID-based subway card the "Charlie Card." I grew up on the song "Charlie on the M.T.A.." (Anyone unfamiliar with the song? It's about a guy who gets stuck on the subway for eternity because they want to charge him an "exit fare" to get off.) It was one of the songs my father loved to sing for his kids. One of the many songs.
I remember so much of my father's music. ( meandering earworm warning. )
What off-the-beaten-path music shaped your childhood?
Unexpected questions.
Oct. 16th, 2006 04:31 pmIt's rare that I find myself at a loss for words. But then again, it's rare that a research participant asks me, over the course of perhaps fifteen minutes:
1. Do you have midgets or dwarves in your family?
2. Can I call you Beckybeck?
3. You like giving people money, don't you?
I am nonplussed.
1. Do you have midgets or dwarves in your family?
2. Can I call you Beckybeck?
3. You like giving people money, don't you?
I am nonplussed.
Photo meme answers, part 1
Aug. 7th, 2006 11:33 pmThe meme: Ask me to take a picture of any aspect of my life that you're interested in/curious about - it can be anything from the house I live in to my favorite shoes. Leave your choice here as a comment, and I will reciprocate by taking the pictures and posting them as an LJ entry. That way you get to see a little bit about my life (within reason).
( ailsaek, eeyorerin, janetmiles, kalmn, hobbitbabe. )
( ailsaek, eeyorerin, janetmiles, kalmn, hobbitbabe. )
