President Who?

Mallory: Mommy, I have to do a project on a president.

Me: What kind of project?

Mallory: I have to choose a president and find out stuff about him. But it can't be Abraham Lincoln or . . . or some other guy.

Me: George Washington?

Mallory: Yeah, George Washington.

Me: So who are you going to pick?

Mallory: I think I'll pick Barack Obama.

Me: Good choice.

Mallory: Or, no, actually I think I'll pick the one...what's his name? The guy who invented something to kill the germs in milk?

Me: ...Do you mean Louis Pasteur?

Mallory: Yeah, him.

Me: Honey, he wasn't a president.

Mallory: He wasn't?

Me: No...he wasn't even American.

Mallory: Huh. Well, I guess Barack Obama is it, then.

Me: I guess so.

Stream of consciousness

I did not know this, but Raleigh has an annual Groundhog Day celebration with our very own groundhog, whose name is…Sir Walter Wally. Which is a bit embarrassing. Apparently this year he disagreed with Punxatawney Phil and predicted that our winter is coming to an end. Take that, rest of the country!

My watch is broken. I want a new watch, because I hate going watchless. Then again, who really needs a watch anymore? There are clocks on all the various electronic gadgets we carry around with us. (In my bag right now there are three – ipod, e-reader, phone.) So I don’t really need a watch. I just want one. I like this one. It’s an odd choice for me. Since when do I like butterflies? But it’s expensive. (I’ve never paid more than $19.99 for a watch. Which reminds me of a funny story. My mom got me a watch for Christmas one year. Christmas morning, I opened it up and then couldn’t figure out how to set it. I handed it to my dad for help. He looked at it and then said, “Where’s the instruction book?” My mom said, “It didn’t come with one.” Dad said, “Of course it did.” Mom said, “No, it didn’t.” Dad said, “Where did you get this watch?” Mom said, “From a kiosk in the mall.” Dad said, “Was it wearing an overcoat?” HA!) Where was I? Oh yeah. So I’m torn on whether or not to buy this watch.

I have moved on from the Wicked soundtrack to the soundtrack of Rent. Which I didn’t like so much at first but now I can’t stop listening to it. I am thinking of renting the movie tonight (get it? Renting?) Chris would hate it. Which I understand. There’s something fundamentally awkward about watching people burst into song at the slightest provocation.

I went to a chiropractor yesterday for a free screening and consultation. The guy said I was definitely a candidate for chiropractic care. I was shocked to hear this as I’m sure that he turns people away all the time.  (This would be a good place for the irony mark.) My neck is out of alignment. It hurts pretty much all the time and I guess it is time to do something about it. But there are so many things I’d rather spend money on. I can’t wait until the socialists take over and we finally have universal health care.

I discovered a new and divine ice cream flavor: Blue Bunny Monster Cookie. Oh my it’s delicious. I must not buy any more. Perhaps they’ll discontinue it soon so I can avoid temptation.

Next Saturday I get to wake up really early and go help unloaded millions of cases of Girl Scout cookies. I am really excited about this. (Again, an irony mark would work well here.)

What you do when it snows

You are scornful that a mere six inches of snow can shut down the metropolitan area, but when a friend calls and suggests meeting up, your first reaction is “Are you crazy? We can't go out in this!”

You wonder what good a snow day is when it falls on a Saturday.

You rejoice that your children are finally old enough to go out and play in the snow without you.

You grow weary of putting the boots on the children and taking the boots off the children, and finding the mittens, and drying the socks, and zipping the coats.

You are unsurprised when the cheapo boots you bought for your oldest daughter turn her socks a vile shade of brown (and leave tracks of dye all over the snow, so that she comes to the door and cries: “There's blood in the snow!”).

You admire your daughter's very first snowman. Who is a little...flat...but cute nonetheless.

You re-read Wicked and are so engrossed in it that you resent having to put it down to feed your children. You are amazed that you didn't like it when you read it 12 years ago. You wonder what was wrong with you when you were 25. You finish it and immediately download the sequel, Son of a Witch, onto your e-reader. You are pleased that having an e-reader enables you to get a new book even though you're snowed in, even though you worry that e-readers will contribute to the demise of the bookstore.

You have a bowl of really good taco soup.

You play around with your fancy-shmancy new camera.

You realize that even the fancy new camera will not prevent your youngest from closing her eyes right before almost every shot.

You agree to make cinnamon rolls for your mother-in-law's friend's brunch (you are known for your homemade cinnamon rolls). You make a batch, intending to put them in the freezer until they're needed. Then you decide they look too good to give away and allow your family to eat them. You realize that you will have to make another batch next weekend. You will probably not be happy about that.

You giggle a little when your younger daughter says, “That old cough of mine is coming back!” but you are not laughing when the sound of that cough keeps you (not her) up all night.

You make cupcakes to celebrate your younger daughter's four-and-a-half birthday, at the request of your older daughter, even though the celebrant actually turned four-and-a-half some weeks ago and anyway that's never something you've celebrated in the past.

You go for a Moonlight Snow Walk with your family, which you all agree should become a family tradition.

You smile when you notice that your younger daughter is just light enough to walk on the crust of the snow without breaking it. And when she says, upon discovering a yard of pristine snow, “Look! It's like a beautiful winter wonderland!” And when your other daughter says, “I like the snow...because bees can't sting you when it's snowing.”

You love your family.

You are glad you were snowed in together.

You aren't in too much of a hurry for the thaw.

Punctuation marks that never caught on

In order:
the acclamation point; the doubt point; the irony mark; the certitude point; the indignation point; the love point; the interrobang; the authority point; the indignation point again. Because that one's my favorite.

No, I did not make these up.

File under: stupid problems to have

I'm going to see Wicked (the musical) in May with my sister- and mother-in-law. I'm excited; I like musicals. In anticipation, I downloaded the soundtrack a few days ago and have been listening to it continually on my ipod ever since.

I read Wicked (the book) back when it first came out, but didn't remember much of the plot. So in order to understand what happens in the gaps between the songs in the musical, I turned to wikipedia for a plot summary. Then I clicked over to the synposis of the book to see how it differed from the musical. Reading about the book made me realize that I had pretty much forgotten all of the book. In fact, to be honest, what I remember about the book was that I found it a bit dull. A bit long. A bit too much about the politics of an imaginary country. A bit too full of unsympathetic characters. And then, I remember, I read the author's next book (a retelling of the Cinderella story) and didn't like it much at all. So I never even considered reading the two sequels to Wicked.

But now, well, I really like the music. And I like the characters in the musical. And I kind of want to revisit how they were presented in the book. So now I have this burning desire to reread Wicked and read the two sequels. Even though I don't think I'll like them all that much, and even though I am currently reading an absolutely gorgeous book that I don't want to rush through (Abide with Me by Elizabeth Strout -- it's so very good) -- all I can think about (other than the chorus to the song "Popular," from the musical, of course), is reading those books.

Sometimes it's really exhausting being me.

Come Again?

Phoebe's brain has, lately, been working far faster than her mouth. She'll start to talk and the words will tumble out so fast that it's impossible to understand what she's saying. If you tell her to start over, though, she'll repeat herself just as fast but softer, making it even more difficult to get her point across.

The other night she was telling me something of great importance, and her words got all tangled up and I must have been looking at her with complete incomprehension, because she stopped and said: "Mommy, can you just pretend that I've already said what I was trying to pretend to say?"

Letter to the Editor

I visited the online site of my hometown newspaper on Monday, something I rarely do, and I read something there that made my jaw drop and filled me with righteous indignation. I fired off a letter to the editor and was just about to hit the "send" button when I came to my senses. But I have to get this off my chest, so I'm posting the letter here.

A bit of background -- my hometown is in Texas; Texas is having a primary for the gubernatorial election in March; one of the candidates is a Palestinian-American named Farouk Shami. Whom I'd never heard of before Monday, and about which I know nothing at all.

Here are the first few paragraphs of the paper's "Town Talk" section:

The US has over 300 million folks but a mere 545 of them control your lives. . . . They were elected to represent the folks but often the Power of DC makes them forget.

It is often said, “pray for our leaders.” I don’t think they deserve praying for. There are a bunch of people on the planet that need prayers more than the politicians. I think they ought to be praying to keep their jobs and for forgiveness.

*****

Local elections on the ballot in the March 2 primary. Elections are always more interesting when several are running. Regardless of win or lose let’s say thanks to all those who make the decision to give it a go. Go for it and may the best candidates win. (Sorry, cannot bring myself to vote for someone named Farouk).

It was the last sentence there that so outraged me, but I incorporated the first part into my scathing rebuttal, so I wanted to post the whole thing.

Here's my response:

I was appalled to see, in the January 14 Town Talk column, that a reminder to vote in the March 2 primary was followed by the comment: "Sorry, cannot bring myself to vote for someone named Farouk."

It's been twenty years since I left Hometown for college; I don't even live in Texas anymore. Until this morning I didn't know who Farouk Shami was. However, if I were eligible to vote in the primary election, I would base my decision on whether or not to vote for Mr. Shami on his leadership abilities, his political ideology, his vision for Texas, and the content of his character -- not on something as superficial and irrelevant as his last name. I hope that the citizens of Texas have enough respect for the democratic process and for all of the candidates to do the same.

Since leaving Hometown, my political views have become more liberal than those of most of the people of Hometown. I am neither surprised nor bothered to see conservative political opinions voiced in the Hometown Paper.

Your comment, however, was not a political opinion; it was an expression of bigotry. It reflects poorly not only on you, but on all of Hometown, and that is deeply disappointing for this former resident.

It is ironic that the comment was printed in the issue that preceded the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr. It is also ironic that, just a few lines above, you wrote that our elected leaders should pray for forgiveness and to keep their own jobs. I suggest that you follow that advice yourself. You may want to throw in a plea for tolerance and understanding while you're at it.

Laid it on a bit thick, didn't I? I mean every word. But I know that little would be accomplished by sending this in; I doubt the author would care much about what I think. But I think it anyway. So there!