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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04


2009-02-09 ... 2:16 p.m.

The fog is making me want to crawl back to bed, although I feel about one thousand percent better than I did yesterday, when I mostly schlubbed around in pajama pants and cursed the day that cheap American lager was invented. LT took Nora to the zoo so I could repent in peace, which was very kind of him. Other than overindulgence I had a good time on Saturday night, with pleasant-if-predictable punk rock show and after-beers at Delilah's.

On the way to school Nora and I had a "make a strange noise" contest (I think she won) and discussed the concept of gambling. This was precipitated by finding a lottery scratch-off card on the bus with some of the scratch-off shit not scratched off. I broke my rule about not picking up street garbage,* gave Nora a dime for scratching, and let her mess with it a while. She was very intrigued by the fact that it's possible not to win anything at all. "But then you just spent your dollar for no reason!" she exclaimed. Yeah I hear you baby, that's always been my problem with it too. Kid is unlikely to rule the tables at Vegas anytime soon. Heck, she currently has about twenty bucks in her room, between hunting for change (it probably helps to be so close to ground level) and gifts from relatives, and she never wants to spend it. She is saving for something "really awesome."** Like what, Nora? She can't say. I suspect a particle accelerator or mind-control technology or other evil-genius equipment.

*She is in absolute heaven with the snow melting and uncovering all kinds of dubious treasures. I usually allow the metal items unless they are rusty. But I stop her from scavenging anything organic (no to the smashed pigeon carcass), any sort of food containers (I don't care how bad-ass the logo on that energy-drink can is), or anything over-large (we are not dragging home half the bumper from a Honda Accord).
**I need to keep track of how many times I hear this word in a day. I bet it is well over twenty. Should I just buy her a snowboard and a bong now, to get it over with?

Same kid, same bus ride:

Nora [wearing a new Darth Vader t-shirt, so the dark lord is very much on her mind]: It would be so great to have the Power of the Force, like Darth Vader.
Me: Yeah, that would be great.
Nora: Then, if I were on the toilet pooping, and I couldn't reach the box of flush-wipes, I could just use my mind to float the box over to me!

Dream big, sweetie!

BETTER STOCK UP ON TIES AND FIRE UP THE CROCKPOT

LT might be getting a "real" job (he currently owns his own business), and while negotiations are still ongoing, the deal is looking insanely sweet. As in he might be outearning me for the first time in…well, ever. It would mean a rather large family-schedule change, as he would no longer be available for after-school pickup. However, our awesome former nanny, who participated in Nora-wrangling for the last three years (up until the beginning of kindergarten), has expressed an interest in returning. And we would be able to afford her, which rules. And besides the obvious "filling the childcare gap" necessity, I am sort of looking forward to the intangible benefits of having another adult looking out for the kid. Not to get all sentimental it-takes-a-village mushy or anything.

VOGG FTW

I just got new glasses and they make me look like the rockingest rockstar who ever rocked. I think these may be my favorite frames ever and I would post a picture except you know I don't do that shit. I went to a new (to me) optometrist's office in the west(ish) Loop and it was a very gay office indeed. I talked interior lighting with the doctor during my exam, and when I got done with that the Very Opinionated Gay Guy (VOGG) at the front desk already had a pile of about thirty different frames ready for me to try on, and he would definitively say "NOPE" or "MAYBE" or "FABULOUS" after each pair until we narrowed things down to the very most fabulous. I adored this kind of decisiveness. I need VOGG to follow me around every time I shop, for anything.

WE DON'T TALK ANYMORE AND IT MAKES ME SAD

Some of you have pointed out that I do not seem to be able to receive email through the Diaryland interface---it is supposed to resolve to my hotmail address (username mimismartypants), but everything bounces back. And thus you have not been able to send me mail that says YOU SUCK or YOU RULE or BEAT HER TO DEATH WITH YOUR MONSTER SCHLONG. This bums me out because I love getting email. The error messages seem to indicate that Microsoft is at fault, but I have not taken any steps to ask Microsoft WTF because I would probably just get mail back that said YOU DON'T TELL MICROSOFT WHAT TO DO. Or Bill Gates would sic his mosquitoes on me.

---mimi smartypants: chewing on glass, eating her fingers.

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