Decor

Okay so today I actually went to someone else's home to tutor.  I know, I know, I GOT OUT OF MY CHAIR, and my body was like whazzup? and then I put all the CLOTHES ON.  and it was a whole new ball game.

Flesh.  Smells.  People.  Speaking.  Interaction.  Cray cray.

Whatever, it's cool, I show up and I am all y = mx + b if that is what you need.  Or perhaps a little metric system converting?  My pleasure.  So anyway I have to drive into these different places all the time and one street leads to another all of a sudden the background is floral sunsets and lushy plants and sometimes the background is barbed wire and used condoms.  It really all depends on where the GPS takes ya.

 I drive up and I realize that I am turning my little Jitterbug of a car into a very nice cul de sac with palatial homes.  I had spoken to this women on the phone four times and my vision was, for some reason, doughy, short-haired and likes farm animals.  Not sure why.  Instead, young latino supermom.  Okay.

So I settle in and of course I don't want to immediately begin ordering a manicurist to buffer my nails, but I do take a look around.  Surreptitiously   I am sitting at the grand dining room table and what I am basically seeing in front of me is a wall decorated with a complete set of china.  And I am thinking, at what point do you decide, like, it's not about the money anymore.  

I mean yes I have lovely china.  And yes, I have lovely art.  Who cares?  We're not playing the regular game anymore.  Now I take my china and I  nail it to the walls. Useless plates!  Also, let's serve the chips and dips on top of Edward Hopper's Nighthawks. Peons...

Chittter Chatter

Um, okay.  Why didn't I move the Wii up to the attic years ago and then I could have stayed in shape just by running up and down the millions of stairs.  Oh, cause stairs are a death trap.  Sigh.  Always something, Bloggy.
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Apparently all of my children can talk.   Isn't that great? Who knew? The problem is.... I don't think they will EVER STOP.  There are three players in this game called Mom is My Biggest Fan, and it is like three beings have absolutely no idea that it is NOT just me and the being.  There are other beings.  That are chirping all at that SAME TIME.  Holy smokes.

Ted's is a robotic kind of  mom mom mom I have to tell you something while Helen's is more of crooning well excuuuuuuuuuse me for living attitude.  And then E chimes in and she is the clincher. Because her brain is smaller and has only one mission and that is to get mom to answer me.  So she will seriously say the word mom over and over again... fast, slow, sideways and wearing feathers. She has absolutely no concept of repetition.  It's like every time she says it is the FIRST time she has said it.

The three of them have pretty much started their own a capella group.

Mom I have to tell you something.....mommomomomom.....

Velcro

Oh, Bloggy, Mommy is so sleepy.  This will be short.  Yes.   Yes I know it's 830pm.

Ha so of course I am always trying to organize what the Big Guy upstairs decided will be beautifully chaotic from start to finish.  (Life.  I just wasn't sure you got it, Blog.  Sorry.  Tai red. Sheesh)


I know had talked about how I am always losing things and the kids have to Velcro items to my person, and then I was in the store and actually saw exactly what I was talking about.  Here, you strap phone into this pouch which is secured by a Velcro strip that will easily wrap around your arm.  For when you are running and want to listen to your tunes. Or when you are running from the the po po and you have to call your Uncle Charlie to tell him where to hide the stash.  Multipurpose.

I sidle up to this thingamajimmy and I am like holy zambonies you just saved my life. Sure sure running. totally, but how about I use this strapped to my ankle ALL DAY LONG so I never forget my cell phone? Cellular cuffs for the  foot loose and fancy free,

I did purchase it.  I am going to try it. You can make fun of me.  H and T think it's hysterical.


But pocket protectors weren't made in a day, people.

Multi-Task

Annnnd. it's PICTURE day tomorrow - oh crap that reminds me, I have to find my checkbook.  Dust off the ol' Pay to the Order of and so on....

I tutor online which is awesome and terrible all at the same time.  But each session  with a student is RECORDED (hello, big brother is watching youuuuuuu), and I keep telling myself I am gonna go back and see how all this stuff plays out.  It's like when I see an old email or an IM thread and I am like...uh, who said that? Me? And I look under the table. Really?  No recollection and furthermore I did not even know I knew the word recalcitrant, thank you very much.

Sunday nights it's hopping online which gets tricky because the fam wants to have their dinnerly treats together.  Hence, we talk about the multi tasking.  Yes, there was a moment where the laptop was on the stove.  Yes, I stood at the corner of the table while everyone was eating and I was typing. It doesn't happen often, but once in awhile you are needed in two places at once and that is super easy to do.  Let's say grace with Hewlett Packard.

So yes, I was blow-drying H's hair for picture day after dinner at the table. One hand on the brush and one hand on the dryer.  Mama knows how to do some hair. But I need to type to tutor.  Well, Helen has two hands, right?  Like, what are those guys doing?  For real. Mama needs 'em to say what she needs to say. Plus, I made em, so technically....they belong to me. Start typing, girl.

How is that for your multi-tasking?

The Depression Question

When I took Ted to the Dr on Wed, he suggested we go to a behavior therapist so that Ted could maybe create some pottery or something while working out his emotions.  I am not sure what it is because he definitely said no it would not be talk therapy.  And no it shouldn't be a pottery class.  So I am little confused as to exactly how and when Ted should laugh, cry or claymate.  But whatevs, they hooked us up with a place, and we went on Friday and there was oh guess what? a crapola full of paperwork to fill out, wouldn't you know.

There was a Depression Questionnaire that was really meant for TBone to complete but I was found suffocating under the piled-high sheets of forms, so I asked the counselor, "Who fills this one out?' (like ha maybe they want to know if having a kid like this has depressed me or something, I dunno, my eyes are now only curlicues from all the PAPER)  and she says, well you can fill that one out together.

Okay so basically it is about fifty questions and each question is made of three statements..  The person is supposed to choose the one that most describes how he or she feels.  Now if the counselor knew Ted could read easily, or if I hadn't been filling out all the stuff, then he probs would have done it himself, but here we go.  So some of them say

I don't have any friends.
I have a few close friends, but not many.
I have a lot of friends in my life.

And so on and so forth, so of course I am somewhat horrified because Ted is reading the sentences to himself and then telling me the one he wants to pick.  How is that for open honesty?  I mean he still reads aloud to himself, so he has to go through them slowly, then think about each one and tell me his choice.

SO of COURSE I am trying to be all nonchalant and whistledy-dee I am not interested in your answers and OF COURSE my heart is pounding cause I am afraid this kid is gonna tell me to circle every statement that is like black holes and eating cat poop are up my alley.

But all was well and when we got to the one that said

Nobody loves me.
I am not sure if somebody loves me.
I know someone loves me.

He just giggled and said, duhhhhhhhhh, you're right here!

Can you grow out of Autism?

It seems like so many kids are now on the spectrum.  When I went to the dr. to eval Ted, I had to discuss the history with Helen.  So I just said there were speech delays that were concerning, we did birth to three and then at some point, a therapist said maybe its something more, and there definitely was an issue. There was a  lot of echolalia, or repeating, and a lot of, blank staring. Severe developmental delays.   I am not sure what was up with all of that, but the doctor looked at me like I was a nutcase when I said she gets no services now. No speech no nothing.  She needs nothing.

I guess it is pretty strange.  The whole "catch it early" thing.  I mean she had issues for real, but now she is just awesome.  (I have papers to testify to this.  Of course, they are papers I just made up, but still.)  So I said to the doctor, isn't that how it is supposed to work?  You would hope to gradually include your child into the cassroom, and that is exactly what happened here.

And of course, I had to fight to keep her there during the last year of services (kindergarten special ed classroom) and this JERK of a teacher did not want her in his classroom. It was all boys.  No girls allowed.  And poor little Helen who is so sweet would try to please him and he would have none of it.  But she won in the end, because she slapped it up tight with the teacher's aide (whose name escapes me) and they were BFFs.


Seriously for Halloween that year, Helen was a chicken and she was a farmer.

Randompants

Oh Bloggy, when all is quiet at night, I get to sneak downstairs and you and I get to really...connect.

Today was the most random day.I started off thinking about all the cute things that kids think and say and I definitely want to start a list.  Some of my list looks like this:

• Ted thinking that all pencils come from Pennsylvania.
• Helen putting small rocks in water so they could grow into big rocks.
• My sister thinking in case of fire, she could flush herself down the toilet to a friend's house.
• Ted getting supremely angry on the second day of Kindergarten, when they didn't give him all of his supplies BACK.

I mean I have to write all this stuff down.  It's too much.  I took E to the Y for some creative playing and for no reason whatsoever, they started an impromptu barbecue at 1100 in the morning.  We were walking out of the Y, and all of a sudden people were grilling hot dogs and cookies were coming out and E was like hold up.  I sense change. Two hours and about forty three pounds of chocolate and meat later, E and I arrived at home. Well, the banner they put out was an appreciation day type of thing but from the organization of it all it looked very last minute.  I checked on the website when I got home and there was no mention of it, and there were no signs about it while we were there, but they definitely had a face painter.  So, I wonder. Do they need a PR person?

I mean you could seriously scare the shit out of someone hopping out of a tree offering a burger and  chips at eleven o clock in the morning when they are all on their way out of zen mudra khanasanana.

Another Doctor's Visit

OKay so we finally got Ted taken to a doctor this afternoon for some full up evaluations.  What does this mean?  Well I am pretty sure the doc tapped on both of his knees twice and then was like, eh he seems cool, here is your prescription.

But what is even BETTER is what H asked me while I was driving all 3 hellish devils to the appointment.  E and T were showcasing their usual talent of who can scream loudest and drive mom the craziest in the shortest amount of time, so I - in all my saintly glory and trying not to abuse a crack pipe - suggested that they put on a dvd.

When the dvd is on, all is calm.  We had about a half hour drive so rather than listen to the fruit of my loins scream bloody murder for shits and giggles, I thought, hey, how about The Wizard of Oz? or whatever.  And The Wizard it was.  So there is a part in the Wizard of Oz (which by the way has one of the craziest messages at the end that I can't believe it took me thirty eight years to become horrified by) where after Dorothy drinks her special punch and flies Auntie M's rancher to Cuckooville, the movie goes quiet for a really long time.  If you are Mama driving in the front seat, it can sound like some little devil SHUT IT OFF.  In reality, it is just Dorothy realizing what a shit show she has created by landing in Wackadoo World and slowly waking from the world's worst hangover to realize she has landed in a serious poor man's acid trip.

So I guess I was concerned that T had turned off the dvd player and that he and E would start to sever each other's arteries while I tried to get everyone safely to the doctor, so I was all WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THE DVD, and Ted said something like (which is adorable in its own right), "Oh, it's just quiet cause it's the part where she wakes up and finds all the yellows and purples and colors and everything."

So then Helen says, "So did people in the olden times only always see everything in black and white and that's why they made movies that way?"

And I was like, damn.  Kids are so freaking awesome and OF COURSE you should think that.  Why wouldn't you.

Uh oh

Blog, you are such a gentleman.   I know you have noticed and you haven't said a thing.  Sweetie-pie.

Mama has gone on an exercise strike.  Ha.  That's now what I am calling being lazy. Much more official.  So my question is what happens to all this muscle that I built up if I don't  keep exercising.  Lemme play it out for you.

I was born all wobbly and bendy.

Then I grew and got muscles.

I played sports and became some version of Katniss in the Hunger Games.

I started aging. Blech. That was weird. 

Eiw.  Really?  Okay.  I started aging, things start drooping (gravity)  So pretty much I just had your regular old flab and bones.  

 But then I started building more muscle and things started GROWING.  Like my little armlet muscles (pop!), and then my butt muscles (poppop!)  but now I feel kinda "energy-challenged" and me no want to grow new things.  I mean yes, a plant would be fine.  But triceptanoids or something I never knew I had.... eh.  Maybe I should just read a good book.

It's sort of like watching my kids take swim lessons.  Something about kids, they have no problem dunking themselves in the pool during the middle of winter.  There is shampoo. body wash, pajamas and all sorts of variables that come into play for them to do their swimming. They are all SUPER excited to go for it every Monday. And me, I used to BE a swimmer.  A real one, like for sure, and all I can do is look at the pool and sigh and think, man, all the LOTION and CONDITIONER and the actual SUBMERGING is such a shock and how many minutes are wasted by changing into a swimsuit and so on and so forth.    Long story short, cut to me, all dolled up to the nines in my high heels and 24 kt gold lace up vest, smoking cigs whilst the lifeguards transport me via canopy from lane to lane so I can watch my kids.

I am not sure what it is, but something changes with age, or the application of mascara.

But then there are the instructors, who are all adults (not to mention the people who are actually SWIMMING for exercise), and I just sit there and try to figure out how they have that extra oompfh..  

It's one thing to motivate to go the gym. And a whole other thing to motivate to change your atmospheric viscosity so that you can't BREATHE after  a long day of work. 

The Bcc

So recently, I believe I have been the victim of a bcc.  Let's think about the bcc.

So when you used to pass notes in class it would've been great if you could've photocopied (some of) them and handed them out as flyers, if you are coming form my day and age.  But when you didn't have that, you would just have to RETELL in your "own words" what was said and recounted which we all know of course is basically a Kindergartner's game of telephone wearing high heels.  At the end of  the day ,whatever your note said basically becomes the opposite of what you meant it to say plus a hundred other of idiotic misconceptions.

But back to the bcc.  There are so many things I have to say about this.  Man,  Okay first, when realizing what a bcc was.   Wow. That was around the time (which was one nanosecond) that faxes were useful.  You would cc someone on a memo, and then I guess you could BCC someone on the same memo.Which is akin, I guess, to saying, hey I am a huge coward.  So while, I want to say all of these things to people and let you in on them , I sure as hell don't want THEM to know I let you in on them God forbid. They might....react. And then I would have to...deal with it.  *faint*


SO the cc is like hey here I wrote you this letter and I want you and these other peeps to have access to it.  Right on.  But the bcc?   So Machiavellian-ly  different by just the change of a letter.  But also so interesting that someone thought to invent it, just as natural as your subject line.  So basically they are saying, of COURSE every one tells people sh*t they are not supposed to. So much so that we have added an extra LINE into the CHOREOGRAPHY of this email.    You know, for ghosts and spirits.

But the best. THE BEST (and this was how I, and anyone with half a brain stem would know they were a victim) is when someone hits "reply all" to the "bcc" and it comes back to you. And you are like...wait why is this person sending me an email about something they know nothing about.....ohhhhhh.....fuck.  The B fucking CC.


Not cool.

Generation...Q?

Sigh, the new generation.

I know I'm not everyone's bowl of punch.  I'm not. You have to take me in tiny sips some times. That's just the way it is.  But these kids.  Oh MY GOD THESE KIDS.

I don't want to say it out loud but are they....useless?  NO.  Not mine.  No way.  EXCEPT, I am like hey kids, go find your cell phone.  And H and T just stand there and stare at each other.  So then I say things, like.... this is how we look for things. We move objects around and look UNDER them.

Now.  I know that every generation has their thing.  And we all acknowledge the thing.  But I am pretty sure that in MY generation, parents left puddles of children in shadows, giving the meanest one a corkscrew just to see what happened.  And it will come around again, as all things are cyclical.  And there is a life cycle, and such.

Someone coined the phrase "helicopter parents", and THIS generation definitely has them. We hover, we research, we collude, we compare (oh my goodness) but this has rendered us...some very intelligent tiny tots with no idea how to innovate.  So when I ask H and T to help me "clean up". They are like but what do you mean?

If it doesn't have a chart with visual aids displaying every tiny detail of life, the kids don't get it. .  .

 And I am like, dudes, you really don't need a visual aid to brush your teeth anymore. You are SEVEN and NINE.  It goes like this. And they are like.. so when you say wake up, what do I have to make my eyelids to do again?

It's like the panic I feel when I realize I only have two memorized telephone numbers in my head and one is a taxi station.  I am like, how come in 1986 I could memorize the phone numbers of all my best friends backwards but now I am like...wait hold on I can not for the life of me remember when I last shaved my right leg.  I need.. the visual... aids...

Back to School Night

Hey, Blog, Mama's been sick with flu-like symptoms. No, no, not the FLU.  Just the symptoms silly.

BACK TO SCHOOL NIGHT

So you go and you meet the teachers, put a face to the name, which is nice. Never are they what I expect. Never.Then the teacher tells you a little bit about the class and you, as the parent, sit in your student's chair and nod at all the right moments.  Or goof off because as soon as you walk into a classroom it is like back in the saddle again and all of your senses revert you back to whatever you were in fourth grade.  Clown, quiet, nerd, athlete.

It is amazing what the environment can do for human beings.  Absolutely unreal. Each year the student writes a letter to the parent and the parent writes back.  I have been to a few of these Back to School Nights and I have two kiddos right now in the elementary school...so I have written my fair share of Back to School Night letters.

            Dear Helen,

            Hi!  I am in your classroom sitting at your seat right now.  Hope you have a great year!

Every year, I write the same letter.

But now that H is a bit older I decided, let's try:

 Dear Helen
 Your teacher looks likes a truck and she seriously needs to reconsider her shade of                             blonde  highlights. She seems nice though. Theses chairs are too small for my ass and I                       freaking hate Everyday Math.  Hugs. Mama 

Evolution

Because all words eventually end up meaning DIFFERENT words which holy smokes is an evolution in and of itself.  Signed. sealed delivered, I'm Yours.

ex:  LITERALLY (dear christ kill us all)

Mfing scientists didn't coin that mf ing phrase just to have you say grande instead of medium.  SO there is a difference between "evolved" and "learned".

And what is the difference? To me, learned can happen in a moment but evolved takes place over time.

 I read a book in college......  Ha I read a book in college. One book.  That's right, one GOOD book, but at then end of the day, this book was all about science and psychology and it kind of freaked me out.  Now, had my brain not been soaked in a vat of beer nougat I might be able to wax a little more intellectually about the main message, but I think it was pretty ingrained.

The gist was...  Our textile/physical/ endocrine our HUMAN selves are still back in the dark ages while our brains have done some sort of survival of the fittest who wants to be a millionaire challenge and therefore made all these IDEAS like the crazy Internet that our poor skin and bones can't really keep up with evolutionarily.

This presents a dichotomy between body and mind.  We are hunting, gathering, weaving hormonally while our brains have us handling things beyond any sort of possible understanding. So let me play it out a little for you once again.

My body thinks hell yeah I love to play bball or soccer or whatever because it feels awesome physically so lets do that 3x a week.  Then the office calls and they say hey tomorrow can you please UPLOAD A VIDEO TO DEMONSTRATE THE INDIRECT PURCHASING OF VENDORS BETWEEN 1997 and 2003?

And you are like YES SIR on it.  Forget about stretching, basketball. hunting, or even smelling.  Man now you have to produce in our century.  Which means you strap on the robots lights.

So as I always say we will be the only species to kill ourselves as the survival of the LEAST FIT as apparently we have this thing called compassion that will do us all in, as in "3rd world countries have wonderful babies" and all of us Ubermoms are on the pill.   Uh........ where does that leave us?

Oh bee tee dubs? The book's whole point was that to fuse the gap we have created psych meds.  Interesting.

Height

So I am tall.  It happens, whatever.  Pros and cons.  But I was just in the playroom and I turned off the dvd player.  My midgets cannot do this,  What they CAN do is climb like monkeys all over everything  to get what they need.  Also, they can fit inside a dumbwaiter.  And travel.  I cannot.  Well, wait,  Now that I have taken lots of yoga, I recant.  I can dumbwaiter those b*thces all up in here.

A dumbwaiter reminds me of the show Webster, and I am not even sure how I started talking about this.  That guy. Member he called the mom ma'am?  Okay.  Whatevs. Moving forward.

So as I was saying, it is a little cray cray that I would SEE things differently because of my height, but I guess I do.  I mean I walk down aisle 5 in the grocery store and I see the Kettle Chips whereas my counterpart dearest cousin would see the Doritos (man let's just eat them already I am so hungry) because she is only 5'5"  Usually I just eat grapes and cherries off of her head.  It's nice to have human furniture.  Entertaining.

And sometimes the little people ask me for help.  Oh the little people.I would like to thank all of the little people... Can you reach that or get that for me?  Sure can.

Oh, I am in no way boasting.  There is no way I can rob a bank because in the line up I am totally screwed.  And there goes my plan for this Saturday.

Pretty Blonde Liars

Man it is so rough when you first find out your kid has lied to you and you fell for it.  I consider myself to be pretty savvy so I am always the most shocked to find out they have pulled one over on me.  Especially because God crafted them as these wide-blue-eyed blonde angels that look like the only thing they ever did wrong was pick up the wrong harp on someone else's cloud.

Helen, man.  I will NEVER FORGET the biggest and most ridiculous first whopper I can remember.  Her school has specials (music, art, drama) on a six day schedule that they label A Day B day C day etc so that if there is a holiday they simply jump over it and a special isn't missed.  Instead of saying "Gym is on Thursdays" which is good but can get confusing.  So some Tuesday after a Monday off, we weren't sure if the kids were on B day or C day and let's say C day would have been Helen's violin day.  So because we weren't sure, I told her, just bring the violin to school anyway, and if you don't have violin, you can keep it there until tomorrow.  Oh Mama, you are so wise and all-knowing.

Well, Helen looks at me with her huge rolling eyes like I am the biggest loser since William Hung on American Idol. She doesn't want to CARRY it to the bus stop if she doesn't have to, plus she will look silly if everyone else ISN'T carrying it cause it's not the right DAY.  T minus three seconds until she leaves to walk to the bus stop with all the other kids  (who may or may not be carrying various instruments) so I have no time for this nonsense.  I hand her the violin and off she goes in a blond twirly huff of Disney red poof!

Later that same day, after school, the fam is all sitting around and dad mentions driving up to the door and seeing Helen walking on her way home from the school bus.  When his truck pulled into the lane, Helen had been acting all "jumpy" and "squirrely" and sort of began running and then walking and then twiddling her thumbs and whistling a tune to "ain't nunthin' to see here, please be on your way".  So dad is like, "Hey how come you were acting so weird when I drove up beside you into the lane today?"  and Helen is all, breathy and lovely and super nonchalant and "Oh, no reason. I was just excited to see you, that's all."

See, the bold is there for the lie, Blog.  The lie.

My mother bs detector went on high alert when I heard this and I instantly stopped chopping carrots or whatever to shine a bright light in her face and begin my interrogations.

As it turns out, our darling Helen, had seen no one else carrying an instrument to school on their way to the bus stop.  Her solution?  Throw expensive violin in bushes for entire sun soaked day and retrieve on way back home.

Anything to look cool.

Circus Arts

So, Blog.  The heat broke in favor of swamp-like humidity.  But I'll take it.

Now that the kiddos are back in school, Mama is free to get a job.  A full time job might be too much so I have been looking at part time things or work from home, etc.  My background is in education so I always search through the education ads and one of the interviews I went on was for a school of the....circus arts.  Step right up, this stuff is coooooool.

So we know I like the yoga and the Zumba, and we know I have the son who is the handful. I try to therapuetize him through physical activity and Ted actually does get down with some warrior one and sun salutations actually.  He is a good sport.  He is also the most high strung yoga practitioner in the world.  We're working on it. But my dream has always been to TEACH yoga and Zumba to kids because it is pretty cool and they don't really offer it for children that much.  Yoga especially is good for them to learn.

And because I am THAT mom, I usually work in a half hour of yoga with the kids a couple of times a week.  We have a stack of cards called "Yoga Pretzels" that are made for kids and show them the positions as little animal and things. Ted likes it and we can do it all together.

Then I saw this ad on craigslist, and it was a while ago, so I can't remember the exact words but it was something for school of gymnastics, etc.  I went on the interview with a nice Ukrainian couple who run the school and as it turns out, it is a school for circus arts.  And I was like, for real, Nancinator.  Think big.

I mean sure, I want my kids to be little yogis but these guys take it to a whole new level and why not? As much as I love the kiddos being flexible and taking gymnastics, everyone is taking those classes. Why not get my kids involved in a class where they do all those thing PLUS learn how to juggle and trapeze? Um, hello, college applications?  Yeah yeah yeah I'm a great gymnast.  How about yeah yeah yeah I can roll myself into a pretzel while flying through aerial silk knots and landing on a unicycle?  Take that, Harvard.  How do you like my 3.7 gpa now?

So H and T are DEFINITELY taking some classes here. They have already taken one and really liked it. Since they are brother and sister I fully expect after dinner ACTS for my entertainment.

www.circus-home.com

Routine.

So the Y closed this past week for "maintenance".  There were no classes.   I am confused. What type of maintenance will take an entire week? I smell a rat.  What could they be doing in there?  I have to know. If there has been a carnival in there for this past week, and I wasn't invited, I am going to be pretty sad.

But that can't be. Because some of the stuff is still operating. The weights and treadmills are okay to use.  Its like an exoskeleton of the Y.  Exercise peeps are on a routine.  Obvs.  But now routine no more?  Mama does not like glitches in the routine.  Especially when the glitches mess with her back to schooling and muscle flexing.  So this past week everyone just sat around and stared at each other. It was fun.  And NOW, I have to motivate to get back INTO a routine.  What?  I did not ask for this.  I was happily going along full steam ahead, all pistons fired up and the Y shut down.  So then I briefly studied forensic anthropology for a few days, realized I liked the Y better, and here we are.

I didn't study forensic anthropology, Blog.  I just stopped exercising Which meeeeeans I kinda became lazy.  Which quickly spirals into 34 bags of Doritos and a marathon watching of Orange is the New Black.  And now I have become a victim of inertia.

Couches are awesome.

So I tried to go back today and pretend like the Y and I were best buddies again and hey no problem with your whole "maintenance" thing and I'm glad we're back together, but for whatever reason, maybe the heat or not having had breakfast, I was SO TIRED.  I hope tomorrow is better.



I think maintenance is code for...vacation.

Baby Lasagna

Oh man, Remember that frozen yogurt place?   It closed down.  Hmm wonder why.  I forgot to tell you, Bloggy, when we were on our break.

So I have this cat named Baby Lasagna.  She is orange and wonderful and about one thousand pounds.  She is also fourteen so I am afraid she may kick the bucket soon :( E calls her Baby Anya. E also likes to throw things at her and demand reciprocal play.  Baby Lasagna usually waltzes away.  BL is a waltzer.

Cats are the opposite of dogs.  When I was little I used to think all cats were girls and all dogs were boys.  It made sense.  I also didn't know about black people because I guess I just didn't notice them till I was about seven?  So I thought God had made new and improved people in different colors. Seriously I was like, oh so we come in black now, that's so cool.

E has transitioned to a new bed because it is the bottom bunk.  This means she can get out of it whenever she feels she is needed.....say.... right now in the attic?   Oh dear

Anyway,  Baby Lasagna is a cat, and she most likely has magical powers. For instance she was a tiny kitten for two years and then she exploded into Garfield. I was never a cat person, but one day fourteen years ago, kablooey!  I was all set to get a grey (?) kitten and name it Baby Lasagna, and lo and behold there she came waltzing right out of her little cage. She had had an "upper respiratory infection"

She was sickly at the start and I had to nurse her back to health.  I lived in a studio apartment in NYC at the time, so it was just me and BL, lighting up the town, two single cats on the prowl.  I walked her to the East River once, but then she really got sick and started SNOTTING all over everything.

I would come home from work and she would be sneezing and snotting everywhere. I would follow her around with tissues.  Turns out she had a growth in her neck that had to be removed, which I got done about one day before she would have kicked it. Once it was done she was perfect for the next fourteen years!

Um thank God, because if I came home to a dead cat at age 25, I never would have had kids.

SCHOOL STARTS TOMORROW

I am...exuberant? So happy I am tinkling in my pants and flying out of them at the same time (super hard to do)?

It is hot.  Not Africa hot, but close.  Actually I shouldn't say close. I have no idea. So we got all the school supplies at the DOLLAR STORE, and I actually enjoy that little scavenger hunt until I don't. Find two pink pearl erasers on top of a hand sanitizing art smock.  You got it.

We go to the Dollar Store and find ALMOST everything.  We need headphones and the $ store only had ear buds.  The list specifically states no earbuds. Earbuds are the enemy.  Sticking things in your ear is no good.  I mean, I sorta get it, but jeez.  A whole nother trip!  So to Staples we go and oops now we have an electric pencil sharpener.  I feel like this is going to change my life somehow.  Not sure how, but I will let you know.  Sharpened pencils can be used for many things:

rotisserie chicken'
writing and drawing
weapons
hair fasteners
building mini houses
making shapes with no curves
making a torch


And it's like unsharpened pencils....so sorry. You have work to do.