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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
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At Peterson and California there is a storefront with a big sign: LATINO TREATMENT CENTER. Are you Latino? There is hope. Even better, they cannot seem to decide on the name of their business and a smaller sign reads LATINO INTERVENTION CENTER. When someone you care about just can't stop being Latino, it may be time for some tough love. Whenever I was home sick and watching daytime TV,* it always amused me to look at the ads and figure out what demographic was being targeted. During the trashier talk shows all the commercials are for hip-hop compilation CDs, diapers, personal-injury lawyers, and drug-addiction treatment centers. It feels extra-decadent to be home sick on the couch watching television that is apparently designed to cater to meth-snorting teenage mothers who are expecting a check any day now for their slip-and-fall at the Jewel.** *A phenomenon that has gone the way of all flesh, now that I am in thrall to the wondrous TiVo. Now if I stayed home sick I would just watch all my Discovery Channel*** stuff and my Sopranos reruns. Quality programming has been gained, undeniably---but what has been lost? Trashiness. **To forestall the inevitable emails that state something like Mimi Smartypants, You Are A Stuck-Up Judgmental Bitch, I will take this moment to say that a meth-snorting teenage mother expecting a check any day now for her slip-and-fall at the Jewel is a totally awesome thing to be. Well, not really. But trashy people need love too. ***Have you seen this show about crab fishing? LT really liked it. I think I may have been really annoying the other night while he was trying to watch, because while he was all into the fishing and the danger and the Hemingway machismo of it all, I was all into the crabs. To the point where I was doing a crab-style dance on the living-room floor and yelling "Crab!" whenever one of the spidery crustaceans would crawl into view. Recently I was out with Nora and she fell completely asleep in the stroller, and I carried her into her bedroom to do a diaper change. She sort of woke up in the middle of the procedure, put her hand down to her nether regions, and seemed very tickled to realize that she was half-naked---she was giggling softly with her eyes closed. I guess it's funny to wake up with no pants on. It gets a lot less funny in college, Nora, so enjoy it while you can. HALLOWEEN Nora was a cat for her school Halloween party and there was much meowing, and much one-word-at-a-time dialogue**** about "whiskers" and "ears" and "tails" and meow meow meow. See below, where she has been captured in a weird sort of John Travolta disco stance.
Saturday afternoon we went to a birthday party/Halloween celebration for my friend Kat's daughter. The birthday girl was going to be a cat and rule #1 is that you don't overshadow the birthday girl and copy her costume idea, so I bought a five-dollar witch costume from the sale rack at Old Navy for that occasion. The dress is actually pretty gothy-cool all on its own. I'd wear it. And on Sunday we were just football-watching slugs. There were many fewer trick-or-treaters than last year, and now I have a whole bag of miniature Butterfingers to eat. Do you think Butterfingers were scientifically designed to stick in your teeth? ****When are sentences supposed to kick in? Nora says hundreds of words, and she can impart huge amounts of information with them, but she does not yet put them together with any sort of regularity. Do kids just start speaking in sentences spontaneously or should I be doing something other than talking back to her and expanding on her terseness? I am also getting a little tired of the toddler philosophy called Why Say Something Once When You Can Say It Five Thousand Times, but that's something parents are probably just stuck with, at least until they become teenagers and stop talking to you altogether. Because I can't get enough of naked toddler feet, and because I seem to have crashed and burned with my rambly rambliness and my short (for me) diary entry, here is another Nora photo to help take up the slack.
---mimi smartypants skittered sideways. |
