rivka

Beige. Beige. Michelle Obama wore a lovely BEIGE dress to her first state dinner, and she looked gorgeous.

Too bad the Associated Press ran into a little problem with their coverage.

First lady Michelle Obama chose to wear a gleaming silver-sequined, flesh-colored gown Tuesday night to the first state dinner held by her husband's administration. She was tending to her hostess duties in a strapless silhouette with the beads forming an abstract floral pattern that was custom-made by Naeem Khan. [emphasis mine]

And they ran this picture alongside it:



...So it's not like they didn't have a visual aid to help them remember THE COLOR OF MICHELLE OBAMA'S FLESH.

(Via TAPPED.)

My father brought three math puzzles down with him this weekend. I got the first one pretty easily, struggled with the second, and had no chance in hell in getting the third. So I pass them all along you to guys.

1. Write the number 4 five times, in combination with any of the basic operators, to produce the sum of 55.

2. Take the numbers 2, 3, 4, and 5. Take any of the four basic operators - but you may only use each one once. Produce the sum of 26. Edited to add: You may not put two numbers next to each other to make a larger number (e.g., 25 + 4 -3). Treat them as separate integers.

3. Write the number 4 three times, employing any of a very broad set of mathematical operators, to produce the sum of 55.

Assume that there will be spoilers in the comments section.

Yesterday afternoon, as we were on the way to the park, we had this conversation with Alex about religion:

Alex: You know what? Some people never ever hurt an animal or even step on an ant. Because that could be your dead relative!
Us: Oh yeah?
Alex: Yeah! Like, Nia [our current nanny, who is a Buddhist and a vegetarian] believes that. But I believe... heaven!
Me: Okay, what you believe is up to you.
Alex: Who believes in hell?
Michael: Some people. Not us.
Alex: But who? What people believe in hell?
Me: Well... Miss Polly did.
Alex: No, she didn't.
Me: She didn't?
Alex: No, she just believed in God and the Devil and God being mad if I didn't say my prayers.
Michael and me: give each other oh-shit-now-what looks, because we haven't heard this particular variation before.
Me (attempting a mild tone of voice): Huh. That doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Because doesn't God have bigger things to worry about than getting mad about what a little girl does or doesn't say?
Alex: She was NOT a Unitarian.
Michael: No, she wasn't.
Alex: And she was NOT a Universalist, either.
Me: Definitely not a Universalist.
Alex: Miss Polly doesn't go to our church.
Me: Nope. If she did, acceberskoorb would tell her that she's wrong.[1]
Alex and Michael: That's right.

I'm feeling kind of bad now because recently Alex has sometimes asked to "say my prayers" at bedtime. I figured it came from a book and didn't probe too deeply into her motivation, and so I prompted her through the less-creepy version of "Now I lay me down to sleep." (Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep. May angels guard me through the night and wake me with the morning's light.) But now I'm thinking... I should've asked questions.

The part about "She was NOT a Unitarian" makes me laugh, and also feel proud. Alex asked us a few weeks ago what "Universalist" meant, and together Michael and I were able to give her a pretty good explanation of Universalist theology and why we are Universalists. I would have a harder time explaining Unitarianism as a theological doctrine, because UUs have moved so far from the original or literal meaning of the term. But I do like that Alex has a clear sense of her religious identity, and understands that Polly's teachings are incompatible with our religion.

The bit about Nia is such a great contrast, because it's clear that (a) Nia has deeply held religious beliefs which our family does not share, and (b) she has discussed those beliefs with Alex, but (c) as indicated by Alex's words and cheerful demeanor (and her total love for Nia), she did it without the slightest implication that Alex should share her beliefs or that Alex's behavior is morally wrong.


[1] acceberskoorb would do so in a totally loving and nonjudgmental way.

Me: (noticing the decapitated head of Snow White lying on the dining room table): Oh no, what happened to Snow White?
Alex: I was taking off her cape and her head came off.
Me: Poor Snow White!
Alex: It's okay. I'm having lots of fun with her head, pretending that she's Anne Boleyn and stuff.

My church's "Big Questions Letter Exchange" continues. This week I really struggled with my letter. ( What are your thoughts about God? Is there a God? By what name (if any) do you call God? )

Feeling much better this morning, but really really tired.

It was a fast, violent illness. The active phase lasted about four hours for both me and Michael, leaving us weak, nauseated, and utterly exhausted afterward. During those four hours, I actually wished that I would die - and it seemed plausible that I might. Once the active phase was over, it gradually dawned on me that (a) I wasn't going to die, and (b) that was a good thing.

acceberskoorb is the most fabulous person in the whole world. She came over with takeout sushi for Alex, fed both kids, played with them, and helped with their bedtimes. Man, we are lucky to have the friends we do.

I am really tired this morning. Colin did an unusual amount of overnight nursing. I'm guessing that I was dehydrated and not making as much milk as usual, so he had to nurse a lot more.

I had just dropped Alex off at school this morning when Michael called and said that he'd been throwing up. I picked him up and brought him home. Felt totally fine through my 10am meeting and 11am research subject and then started to feel ill. Threw up comprehensively. Came home and crawled into bed, feeling incredibly queasy, and discovered that Michael had thrown up an additional six times.

Since then, nausea and a couple of false alarms but no more vomiting for me. Michael is asleep. Nia (our nanny) has to leave now; she's managed to get Colin down for a nap and Alex ensconced in front of a video. But soon Colin will wake up and Alex will need something and I will have to be functional.

Posted a pathetic plea to Facebook for someone to come over later and get dinner for Alex and play with the kids.

Gods help me.

I am exhausted and burned out.

Yesterday was a lousy day. I expected to finally get the H1N1 vaccine at work - they'd sent out an e-mail saying that all faculty and residents in the department of medicine should come to grand rounds to be vaccinated. Even if you thought you'd already had H1N1, unless you could produce proof of typing. So I showed up, only to discover that they didn't really mean faculty - they meant MDs. "I have direct patient contact with immunocompromised people," I said. "Sorry," they said. "What do you suggest that I do?" "Find the vaccine somewhere else." Gee, thanks.

Worked late. Found out some things that, although not surprising, were tiring and discouraging. Came home to discover that I had forgotten that Michael would be spending the evening at a church meeting (including the dinner hour, so I'd be feeding myself and the kids on my own), that Colin was STARVING ZOMG NO ONE FED ME ALL DAY, and that Alex was STARVING FOR ATTENTION ZOMG NO ONE PAID ATTENTION TO ME ALL DAY. Tried to get Colin down for a nap and failed. Tried to get Alex to be quiet for ten minutes so that I could nurse the baby down and failed. Lather, rinse, and repeat for the rest of the evening. Colin did a lot of extraneous crying. Alex did a lot of extraneous loud neediness.

I honestly was ready to go to bed when Alex did. But a couple of friends called who are in very stressful situations themselves and instead I was up kind of late.

Colin woke me at five this morning. I got him back to sleep, but not myself. He was up for the day at six.

I am trying to write a grant in difficult circumstances, and I also have a lot of extra burdens at home because everyone keeps being sick, and "everyone" includes our nanny and our nanny's daughter which means that my childcare has been extremely shaky. I am stretched very, very thin.

Also: I have somehow managed to lose my Prozac. I can't find the whole bottle. Both Michael and I have looked. No idea how that happened, because it's supposed to live on my desk right next to my keyboard so that it's impossible for me to forget to take it. I've been without it for... maybe a week? I can't really remember when I took it last. Somewhere in the middle of everyone-is-sick-but-me hell.

I am, unsurprisingly, symptomatic: anxious and also very short-fused. When I'm off the Prozac I get absolutely furious about things not going my way, because the consequences seem so dire. Like, the only way the world won't fall apart is if everything is under my perfect control. Fun times.

Yes, I have e-mailed my psychiatrist to ask her to call in a replacement prescription.

Not loving my life right now.

I'm pretty pleased with how this year's pumpkins turned out. I mean, I'm not a squash artist or anything. But I do this with a steak knife - I don't have any special carving tools.



This year Alex consulted heavily on the design. We kept drawing sketches for each other on the edge of the newspaper, until we could come to agreement about each element. The eyelashes were her idea.

Every year the neighborhood Halloween presence just gets... more. This year a neighborhood church hosted a Halloween party for the kids, complete with games, pizza, treats, and a haunted house. At a given time, everyone was sent out for the "trick or treat parade," which routed us along a small circuit with marked stops. Last year, the wine store was expecting trick-or-treaters and the proprietor of the Afghan restaurant was so taken with Alex's robot costume that he went and got a little bowl of candy from his bar. This year, quite a few neighborhood restaurants, stores, and even a couple of bars listed themselves as a trick-or-treat destination.

The circuit also led us along two blocks of private homes. On those two blocks (one was ours) many people were just sitting out on their stoops with a bowl of candy, even if their house wasn't officially marked on the map. Our next door neighbors were on their stoop drinking champagne out of water glasses and eating tapas; after the kids were done we hung out with them and visited for a while, and I saw more of the same going on up and down the block.

I like the way Halloween feels in our neighborhood. It's a holiday that has been opened up graciously to welcome the kids, but it's not all about the kids. Groups of costumed adults heading off to parties at the local bars intersect with groups of families trick-or-treating, and everyone admires each other. There's a strong neighborhood, community feel that was absent from my childhood Halloweens, when you didn't really talk to other groups of trick-or-treaters and the goal was to see how many streets you could cover - we carried pillowcases for our treats.

Michael handed out candy to about fifty kids. I noticed that the crowd was more diverse this year. Initially, the neighborhood trick-or-treating was organized by some of the middle- to upper-income white homeowners, and they handed out invitations to all the neighborhood kids that they knew. I think that tended to leave out lower-income familes, renters, and a lot of the African-Americans. Each year it's gotten a little more open. This year, maybe because of the big public church party, the big parade of trick-or-treaters was much less homogeneous, although I think it was all still neighborhood kids. Cool.