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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

2005-09-08 ... 11:51 a.m.


So sleepy today, with gritty eyes and a liquidy feeling like I am sliding down the gullet of the world. Although if I were a beverage right now I doubt I would be anything yummy or even alcoholic but instead just a glass of tepid cloudy tap water. It is a dangerous, cuddly, mushy sort of sleepy---on the nearly empty El this morning I made sure my bag was occupying the seat next to me, because I didn't trust myself not to crawl into a fellow-passenger's lap.


I am addicted to this trail mix stuff that is really rather terrible in terms of fat content and nutritional value, as it seems to be mostly peanuts, off-brand M&Ms, cashews, and enough raisins to trick your brain into thinking you are virtuous for eating this instead of some vending-machine candy bar during the deadly brain-leakage afternoon office hours. Seriously, this stuff is very good, but the company makes some scary things: "pretzel-shaped gummi fruit snacks" and something called "Potato Pizzazz" that is just baffling. At first I thought the product was made of potatoes, then I read the part about "dressing up your potatoes" (kinky!), and then the copy gets totally confused and starts burbling about salads and rice and cooked vegetables. It looks like you can do just about anything with Potato Pizzazz! Help, the existential nausea of too much freedom!


Nora hates to miss out on any of the fun, so ever since she was old enough for verbal expression she has always wanted to accompany us to the bathroom. Historically I have allowed this, since although I am mostly modest about such matters I tend toward What's The Big Deal when it comes to family nudity. Now that she is in the endless-questioning phase, however, I may have to reconsider. What's that? It's a tampon. What's it for? It's's for grown-up ladies. Where are you putting it? In my vagina. Why? Because...hey! Nora! Let's go play! I don't mean to sound like Carrie's mom or anything, but come on, Nora is two. The miracle of womanhood can wait a while. (LT has suffered similarly. Why do you shake it? Why do you shake it, Daddy? Why?)


1. Why are there not more Latino guys in the NBA? Or is my perception that there are very few in the NBA even correct? I do not really follow basketball, but even a casual observer can notice that it seems to be mostly white guys and black guys. I found this, which talks about attracting Spanish-speaking fans, but I can't find anything to explain the lack of Spanish-speaking players.

2. The kiswah is the thing that covers the shrine at Mecca (the kaaba). It is a big (really big) piece of black cloth that is replaced every year. There is a special factory for making it in Saudi Arabia. Do you think the factory operates year-round? Do they make other stuff or just the kiswah? The cloth does not seem to be hand-embroidered or anything (at least that's how I read that article), so how long can making a kiswah take? I just want to know if there is a huge backlog of kiswahs, and when it is time to change the cloth they just go get another one from the warehouse, or if once a year some guy delivers a work order to the factory and everyone is like Ho Hum Alhamdulillah It's Time To Make The Kiswah.

3. This isn't specifically a Google-failure, but it is a hilarious bit of bullshit: history of the piņata. You gotta love missionaries! They sure worked hard to stretch really simple pagan ideas----symbolically beating up evil plus the joy of smashing the fuck out of something---into an allegory about Christ.


Today is the two-year anniversary of our referral call for Nora. Here is the first picture I ever saw of her.

I had prepared myself for a photo of a squashy, rashy, overdressed baby (China referral pictures are notoriously unrepresentative of what the baby actually looks like). When I saw how beautiful she looked, I was blown away.

But then I met Nora and got to know her and became her mommy. And she just keeps getting more beautiful, because of who she is. She gets insanely excited at the sight of motorcycles and has the poise and guts (at two!) to politely ask giant shirtless Harley guys if she can sit on their hogs.

She also makes what she calls her "angry face" when thwarted (or upon request).

Anyway, Nora is funny and nice and I like her a lot, blah blah mommy blog blah self-absorbed blah.

Tomorrow I am going out drinking with Kat and I am so excited it is unseemly. I look forward to that golden hour or two when we untangle all our messy feelings and opinions (which get so overwhelming that we often call each other simply to say DUDE and WHAT THE FUCK) into a beautiful tapestry of coherent thought, and exchange ideas and get all charged up with the power of smart female friendship. Then, of course, we order more beers and spill some of them on that tapestry, and smoke illicit cigarettes and ash on that tapestry, and get our bar-popcorn crumbs all over that tapestry, and soon enough we are back to DUDE and WHAT THE FUCK. But who needs a tapestry when you have Old Style? And Journey on the jukebox?

---mimi smartypants has thrown a kettle over a pub, what have you done?


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