tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336593482011-08-16T06:38:56.272-04:00Just trying to figure all this marriage / parenthood / career business out without losing my footing and plunging into the abyss. Regular everday stuff, really.<a name="9235557558"></a>Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.comBlogger3641100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-32930295212117717832010-08-09T14:45:00.003-04:002010-08-09T15:05:14.923-04:00

I was going to paint our bedroom this weekend. Mine and Pynchon's. I guess it would be syntactically easier to just say "the master bedroom," but that would, semantically, be misleading you with respect to creating delusions of its grandeur. It is not the bedroom of a Master, but rather, as a room, it masters us and all of our bedroomly possessions, forcing us into the one arrangement that fits

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-87403864729681228952010-07-23T22:28:00.003-04:002010-07-23T22:48:20.105-04:00

As you know, I'm kinda an insomniac. I spend a lot of time lying in bed, trying to get to sleep. Or get back to sleep if--heaven forfend!--I have to get up to go pee at night. In any and all cases, utter darkness is best. I like to snap off my reading light and have that moment of panic where I can't tell the difference between my-eyes-are-open and my-eyes-are-closed.I rarely get to experience

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-80253592444948923282010-07-18T07:30:00.003-04:002010-07-18T15:53:55.318-04:00

It's hot.Thursday night, Pynchon and I went together for our weekly yoga date. It was so hot and muggy, we drove, instead of biking. I've never really done much yoga in the summer, and not in a third-floor studio in a hundred year old building in a heat wave.It was really hot.Unrolling my mat onto the hardwood floor? Um, a little warmish. Sitting quietly in virasana and meditating? Too hot.

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-74401791076607250702010-07-15T16:23:00.003-04:002010-07-15T21:59:16.547-04:00

In the last year, I've had one nightmare that recurs. It goes like this. Pynchon and I take possession of a new house. The dream starts with me just inside the threshold, confused. I'm trying to have a good attitude, but I'm surprised. Sometimes the surprise is that I'm in a different house at all, that it turns out we've sold our house and moved somewhere new. Sometimes the surprise is that the

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-34019332920161572212010-07-12T14:20:00.003-04:002010-07-12T14:31:18.077-04:00

Cloud had a great idea for a series of posts on "Dinner During Dora"--you know, meals that you can whip up in the time between "Hey, are you ready to explore!?" and the final "Click!" That's 22 minutes if you're using On-Demand cable, or DVD, which we do. Go!Felafel During Dora:You need:* red onion* tomato* avocado* lemon juice* mayonnaise* felafel mix* pitas (I like to use tortillas instead --

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-16171355789423165022010-07-10T11:29:00.003-04:002010-07-10T16:33:25.405-04:00

"Oh, the liquor was spilt on the barroom floor! And the bar was closed for the night! The house mouse peeped from his little mouse house! In the glow of the pale moon light!"What the hell is she singing? Pynchon and I exchanged confused looks as we zipped up the 401 to this unexpected musical accompaniment. The mouse, it turns out, drinks all the spilled liquor off the floor and gets belligerent,

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-7702247053339066652010-03-25T20:10:00.003-04:002010-03-25T20:37:51.719-04:00

It's nice, isn't it, to buy American money lately? Friday, I bought 200 US dollars for $207 Canadian. Miracle! I tucked the oddly shaped green bills into my wallet and double-checked my passport in my laptop bag. Slinging my lovely, soft-brown leather weekend bag over my shoulder, I started up my podcast, slipped on my sunglasses and boarded the bus.Off to a meeting point with out-of-town

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-16122377676724410212010-03-08T20:16:00.006-05:002010-03-08T21:23:29.792-05:00

I've been obsessed with painting and decorating again. I tackled the dining room over Reading Week, with help from Pynchon and my dad and a soundtrack of cowbells from the Olympic skiing events I played in the background for company.From this:We went to this:You seemed to like my breakdown of the kitchen reno, where I told you what I did and what it cost and scoffed at the shelter and lifestyle

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-36578816839408209912010-02-11T20:09:00.003-05:002010-02-11T20:57:17.345-05:00

"Mom, Mom!" she interjects, as I take a break from telling Pynchon about something I read in the paper earlier to take a bite of my salad."Mom! Is it my turn to talk?""Sure. What would you like to talk about?""Um ... um ... Today-I-went-to-preschool-and-I-played-and-played-and-then-we-had-snack-and-when-we-went-outside-I-fell-down-but-it-was-okay-I-laughed."She pauses. Takes a bite of cheese.

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-65441715834729299702010-02-03T20:10:00.003-05:002010-02-03T20:51:19.392-05:00

Munchkin is adjusting to my return to normal daily family life. She is adjusting, as I begin to see is her pattern, by freaking out with abandonment issues after the absent parent is once more firmly embraced into the crush of daily family life.That is, she misses me with great passion and hurling cries now that I'm home again.I went to bed so early last night that I wound up sleeping in the

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-37743221430695762962010-01-31T21:07:00.002-05:002010-01-31T22:17:59.611-05:00

So, I'm 37 now.Last year we had a great big houseparty for 40 people, with a bartender, a big cake, and all the furniture pushed back to the walls, rented glassware, the works. We went smaller this year, a dinner for 14 at a new restaurant just around the corner from here. The smaller scale gave me more of a chance to reflect, first and foremost that I am truly blessed in my friends, and next

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-70312288078029722952010-01-29T20:17:00.002-05:002010-01-29T20:39:20.272-05:00

One of the alarms on my iPhone (you can edit and save a bunch of them, like you can teach your thermostat the difference between Wednesday and Sunday) is called, simply, "stupid fucking Monday." It is set for five am. And every Monday for the last four weeks, that's when I get up, at 5am. I sneak downstairs, work for an hour and a half, shower, gobble breakfast and head to work, usually before

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-33376772743850948372009-12-21T21:38:00.003-05:002009-12-21T21:51:25.345-05:00

She's sitting on my lap, facing me as we rock. I pull my face close to hers, her big blue eyes filling my vision, my fingers wrapped up in her wet hair, one hand on her bare back. I'm crying, a little, which is really surprising me and upsetting me."Tell me more about Kathy and Patti," she asks.Kathy and Patti used to bully me when I was a kid. They were the cool girls, and I wanted to be their

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-17015854104688321132009-12-12T15:43:00.003-05:002009-12-12T16:03:59.257-05:00

Like Clark Griswold, I tend to overdo it on the holidays. I say yes to too many parties, I bake too many cookies, I play too many Christmas CDs, I get too wound up from the end of November on--to the point that I redo my whole living room to look better in the Christmas morning photos. Obviously, I drink too much bourbon and eggnog.What can I tell you? I just want to create and to experience a

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-83320226340374727522009-12-09T16:16:00.002-05:002009-12-09T16:59:26.924-05:00

You know, we have probably the biggest house on the street--there's a couple of big renos going on that are increasing the average square footage behind the 1917 facades in the 'hood, but we've got easily the biggest property ... and the smallest family on the block.When we were so desperately hunting for a new house I was focused on the kitchen: my first house had a big, square, open kitchen

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-32284339677517959422009-12-06T21:18:00.002-05:002009-12-06T21:35:32.846-05:00

We are catching our breath, collectively as a family after a long term, a long fall, but individually, too as we figure out every day what it means to be a family. As soon as we figure it out, it changes again. It has changed again, for the better.I'm doing a lot of yoga lately, so I'm tempted to liken it to that: are we managing more balance all together, one pushing down through bottom of the

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-65353199079312997892009-12-01T11:01:00.002-05:002009-12-01T11:18:29.260-05:00

Pynchon and I were animatedly discussing our respective workdays at the dinner table last night while Munchkin demolished her plate of cheese, breaded tofu sticks, and pears. As she finished eating she began to clamour for a turn to talk, to tell us about her day.That's what family supper is all about, right?"So, Munchkin, what did you do at preschool today?" I asked her"Great!" she replied, I

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-77759333836494351342009-11-29T17:11:00.005-05:002009-11-29T17:23:01.045-05:00

This post is for Omaha Mama, who seems honestly enthusiastic about renovations, and for Bea, who is--I can attest with certainty--rabidly enthusiastic about paint colours.The living room is done! Just to refresh, this is what the living room looked like when we bought the house (these are the agent's photos):Does it look like an old lady lived here? Because she did!Aaaaand, here's what it looks

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-79391946401454591572009-11-26T21:56:00.002-05:002009-11-26T22:05:47.378-05:00

Today it finally happened: I misfired an email so that something personal went to the wrong, wrong, wrong person. Doesn't this happen to everyone at some point? Did I think I would be spared, just because I'm the resident Professor of Internet Culture and Printer-Hookup and Switching People to Macs?Sadly, no.A month or so ago, a bunch of professors from all across campus got hauled out of our

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-65994609362960660352009-11-25T20:29:00.004-05:002009-11-25T20:48:40.042-05:00

Having waited an eternity to get to the front of the line to order, and then to receive, my triple grande nonfat extra-hot latte, I fairly sprinted out of Starbucks towards my car. We had been too late leaving the house to pick up my coffee on the way to drop Pynchon off, so I dropped him at his building on campus and then Munchkin off at hers, before driving my behind-schedule self to the

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-21021293957882358932009-11-24T23:04:00.002-05:002009-11-24T23:08:50.520-05:00

It gets worse before it gets better, right?

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-21644034600991657712009-11-23T23:04:00.002-05:002009-11-23T23:09:34.010-05:00

Remember when I hacked off the end of my thumb last year, and failed once more to start the new year with grace, dignity, and professionalism?Can you believe it's still not quite right? It's all healed over, of course, and the end of the thumb is all nice and round like before, but it's all scar tissue, and when I try to do something like button my jeans, it hurts, and I just figured out how to

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-30771698359763677562009-11-22T22:27:00.003-05:002009-11-22T22:42:22.400-05:00

Here's a new holiday ritual to add to our family scrapbook: repaint the living room.Somehow, it's 10:30 pm and I've just cleaned my trusty angled sash brush of the remaining primer, having sanded, rinsed, repaired, de-greased, rinsed, and primed the two big window, two large doorways, and all the baseboards in the living after rolling up the rug, pushing the couches into the middle of the room,

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-32619380511468674092009-11-21T20:21:00.003-05:002009-11-21T20:32:23.011-05:00

1.Unexpectedly, we received a cheque for $3054.00 from the federal government on Wednesday afternoon. This was our 'eco-energy' rebate, and it was unexpected because the accredited inspector who submitted our paperwork in early October told us we could probably expect to wait 90 days, give our take, to get our rebate. It was more like 40 days, a welcome efficiency in government service.$3054!

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-56541593057301821162009-11-20T23:47:00.002-05:002009-11-20T23:50:32.261-05:00

Damn you, NaBloPoMo!Let me tell you quickly that I had that parental cliché nightmare scenario at the grocery store today. You know, the one where your three year old is goofing off while you feverishly unpack items from the cart to the conveyor belt, and you take your eyes off her for ten seconds and ll of a sudden there's a terrible din and your three year old is in the middle of it and it

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-33224915615191332272009-11-19T21:32:00.002-05:002009-11-19T21:38:42.909-05:00

... or at least until the 11pm news.I took a media call today about, of all things, Twilight (or rather, The Twilight Saga: New Moon) and 10 minutes later, a TV news reporter and her camera guy pulled up to my office and asked me some questions on camera, and 3 minutes after that, it was all done.Two hours later, interspersed among clips teenagers in high school parking lots talking about Taylor

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-2794564219646851072009-11-18T19:30:00.003-05:002009-11-18T19:34:17.270-05:00

What, your cornucopia doesn't contain plastic toast, plastic carrots, plastic lettuce, and a plastic waffle? I just found this still life configuration when I was cleaning up one night after Munchkin and Pynchon had been playing while I was at yoga. It surprised me; I laughed.More common an examplar in the preschooler horn of plenty genre is the following:The shoe of plenty. Plenty of sand. Yikes!

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-72381115237058070832009-11-17T22:14:00.002-05:002009-11-17T22:26:25.295-05:00

Why are the things that are good for us, that make us feel good, so hard to get done? Why, in fact, (and I don't think I'm alone here), do I actively sabotage my own participation in activities that I enjoy and that make positive contributions to my life and to my family?Why, if I enjoy it so much, feel so good afterwards, and clearly notice the benefits to my muscle tone, balance and flexibility

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-31534214723119271632009-11-16T21:31:00.002-05:002009-11-16T21:37:55.164-05:00

Pynchon: "Munchkin, okay, it's time to get dressed for bed! Mommy's coming home soon and you want to be ready for your stories!"Munchkin: [play, play, play] "Play! Play! Play!"Pynchon: "C'mon now, Munchkin. It's pajama time: let's put on your diapers."Munchkin: "Dad, it's only one. It's a DIAPER, it's not diapers."Pynchon: "!!!!"Technically, it's a matter of usage that either construction, the

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-76928352362594435062009-11-14T05:15:00.002-05:002009-11-14T05:19:04.135-05:00

Is where I'm going! Right now! At 5:15am! With my sister!Pynchon is taking the weekend shift so that I can have a girls' weekend with my mom and my sister. We haven't done something like this for years--just the three of us, no kids, no husbands. We'll be going to Christmas Tea this afternoon, just like we used to do in, err, the 1970s. And 1980s. Set the wayback machine for vinyl tablecloths,

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-10612241396478776502009-11-13T19:56:00.002-05:002009-11-13T20:06:10.903-05:00

You ever troll your site meter to see where people are coming from? I discover some great blogs that way--usually lurkers who link me in their own side bars and click over that way, pretty regularly. You know who you are, lurky-loos.Anyhoodle, I noticed a new link around the same time I noticed a new commenter. Nancy writes "The B in Subtle" (and isn't that the best blog title, ever?) and her

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-78786836355873532202009-11-12T23:59:00.000-05:002009-11-13T09:59:23.411-05:00

Two stories, about language development.1.Last night Pynchon tucked me into bed (as he does) at 10pm. As he left our room, he peered in on Munchkin, pulled her door near-to-closed, and turned off the hallway light (as he does). Munchkin half woke, mad to find herself, I guess, in the dark.She shouted out once or twice, inarticulate angry and sad noises, intermittently. Then she started crying in

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-5389264376843591912009-11-11T19:05:00.004-05:002009-11-11T19:10:35.774-05:00

The portable dishwasher: not just a movable kitchen island, but also a movable painting easel.I think she's got real talent ... I mean, this is what we've got hanging in the dining room and it doesn't look much different:

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-30196784638651166812009-11-10T20:40:00.002-05:002009-11-10T21:02:40.732-05:00

Poor Pynchon. Munchkin really gives him the gears, she truly does. She's harder on him than on me, and, worse, two nights a week, while I'm at yoga, he's in charge and parenting solo during ... The Arsenic Hour, that very long and poisonous period of two hours starting with the end of the working and ending with the start of bedtime.If you are interested in seeing and hearing one of Munchkin's

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-80408227779643294432009-11-09T21:07:00.004-05:002009-11-09T21:38:53.247-05:00

Not the New Order song (I find their earlier stuff way better, actually.) And not the mathematically calculated "most depressing day of the year." But laundry, traditionally done on Monday. According to this site, laundry wasn't really a Monday job, but a Sunday through Wednesday affair.This probably doesn't surprise you, huh?I've washed Munchkin's fall jacket no fewer than twice in the past 7

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-8009122383681872822009-11-08T21:00:00.000-05:002009-11-08T21:01:56.874-05:00

I got tagged for a meme, and it couldn't have come at a better time: Sunday night!10 Honest Things about Me1. I eat a lot more junk food than I let on. I am metabolically blessed, apparently, and it's not fair that I'm as judgmental about others' food choices as I am. I just don't seem to pay the price for my own bad choices.2. I'm at my very best when I in front of a classroom. I'm funny, I'm

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-88399975054362186232009-11-07T22:35:00.003-05:002009-11-07T22:43:56.810-05:00

And so it is that I'm posting a photo of me and Pynchon, on a date, taken with my iPhone sometime shorty after 10 pm tonight. We're at the fancy-shmancy bar area of the go-to fancy-shmancy restaurant in our town centre. So, about five minutes walk from home, so we can both have a stiff drink before staring deeply into ... the camera phone:We got a sitter--let's call her Mary. Mary is the only

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-35670090088639097172009-11-06T19:17:00.006-05:002009-11-06T20:25:13.863-05:00

I had an epiphany today.I was thinking about how everyone is telling Amy to get lots of sleep now, because she soon won't have much choice in the matter. We all give this advice ruefully and ironically: you can't store sleep, obviously, and while it's nice to head into labour after a nice nap rather than after an 18 hour cupboard cleaning binge, in the bigger picture, the best night's sleep in

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-26448593831037848792009-11-05T20:30:00.004-05:002009-11-05T21:23:12.112-05:00

As I joined the 769 people in front of me on the track encircling the arena at the Rec Centre, watching the Zamboni do slow circles while our even slower circle of the would-be-vaccinted, I thought: I'm going to tell her this story someday.I'll talk about the Great Flu of 2009, that flu that created so much panic: panic about whether the disease would be a mass killer; panic about whether the

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-70837375285046433012009-11-04T20:00:00.006-05:002009-11-04T21:57:10.860-05:00

Kids. They have a good sense of what's really important:

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-2259710130211301072009-11-03T13:55:00.003-05:002009-11-03T14:32:23.863-05:00

"What an adorable sweater," my mom remarked as Munchkin barreled around my sister's living room, chasing the dog. "You get her such adorable clothes!""That's a hand-me-down from [friend]'s daughter ... and, actually, the pants are from [cousin]!" I answered."You don't have to say that," my mom snapped back, chiding me for seeming to demur from the compliment, or for oversharing about money.But I

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-70853408336872164042009-11-02T20:10:00.002-05:002009-11-02T20:34:31.909-05:00

The wheels on the bus go round and round, and like the wheel of life, their inexorable turning is both circular, and forward-driven. The wheel spins round and round and round on its axel even as the bus and everyone in move into ... well, the bus depot.I took the bus home tonight. It was raining, and I had a stack of exams. I was giddy with the freedom of it.The bus and I go way back. When I

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-6206242888167872852009-11-01T17:53:00.010-05:002009-11-01T18:38:50.847-05:00

If you were wondering where the lions are, they were at my house last night:Munchkin was the picture of adorable (as you can see) and it was Pynchon's year to tour her up to the end of the block and back, after which she stood in our own front door, hollering at the top of her lungs with excitement whenever she saw another kid coming. She ate a ton of candy, and then, bathed and full of milk and

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-58758607139317600812009-10-29T14:59:00.002-04:002009-10-30T11:46:15.364-04:00

I'm blowdrying my hair for social change.Remember in August, how people dropping spoons were making me burst into tears? I was stressed and unhappy and sleepless and on edge. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, life didn't get any less chaotic--generally my response to this kind of situation is to try yet harder. More home-cooked meals? Leave work a little early. Need to get more time at

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-84351586798023182312009-10-02T10:50:00.004-04:002009-10-02T11:15:47.334-04:00

Okay it was this morning, and it wasn't, I guess, my life as much as my sanity.For the past two weeks, our mornings have been a dream. Pynchon and I take turns in the shower; he gets to shave in peace, and I get to blow dry my hair and put on makeup. In the background, you might hear Munchkin singing songs to and about her My Little Ponies, or maybe the thump of her feet as she chases the cat

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-53594788847936596532009-09-16T09:24:00.003-04:002009-09-16T09:39:39.792-04:00

Every year, I write a back to school post wherein I become wistful or contemplative or hopeful or nostalgic. I think this year, I will instead shake my head in amazement.I live in a small city, rather than a small town, and so we are more easily able to absorb the influx of students in September than is, say, New Haven (Yale), or Charlottesville (U Virginia), whose populations nearly double when

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-63698597966332742542009-08-25T10:13:00.002-04:002009-08-25T10:40:28.487-04:00

Baby's first rhetorical question, with hands on hips and brow deeply furrowed: "Do I look happy, Mom? No. I don't. I am very angry with you."The context was perfect--she was trying to get my attention, and I was resolutely emptying the dishwasher despite her entreaties to play Dora. The tone was perfect--a kind of self-aware broadcast declarative designed to 'hook' the audience.Is there a page

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-76652235728353900222009-08-20T16:43:00.002-04:002009-08-20T17:12:49.870-04:00

In the timeless rivalry betwee side-of-fork versus not-quite-softened red pepper contested in the epic battle to Separate a Bite-Sized-piece from the Omelette, red pepper held firm and Pynchon's fork slipped from his grasp, shot up in the air, and landed with a jangling crash back on his plate, an explosion of noise and movement in the middle of supper.Naturally, I burst into tears.Pynchon looked

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-30752598601052789032009-08-12T12:10:00.002-04:002009-08-12T12:10:38.469-04:00

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-10645209905840640922009-08-10T13:40:00.002-04:002009-08-10T13:54:26.999-04:00

So I guess it's going to summer now, huh? Muggy and stifling, with nightly thunderstorms that knock the power out just long enough so that you have to reset 12 clocks or face perpetual blinking midnight everywhere you turn.Are you hot yet? We turned the air conditioner on for the first time since mid-June yesterday. With a click and whirr it softly brought itself to life and just like that

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-82243292138621769782009-08-07T18:12:00.003-04:002009-08-07T18:17:32.658-04:00

Well, that was a long drive, another 413 km worth of Toyota-seat reshaping my butt.Mercifully, it was a a quiet ride, mostly:(I took this when I pulled off the road, obviously.)Suddenly, my kid likes to read her 'newspapers' (kiddie nature magazines) and her 'tape stories' (readalong WonderPets books with a CD narration) and play pretend with her 50 My Little Ponies and assorted McDonald's-loot

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-46470224209700445602009-08-04T15:20:00.002-04:002009-08-04T15:31:24.082-04:00

My writing face, tearing apart an article and trying to put it together again:Can you see all the red pen marks, the scratch-outs and the desperate "FIX THIS CRAP!" marginalia?Sample of deathless prose:Genre develops in response to a social exigence: the new communication form must meet, that is, a pressing and established need. As readers as well as writers, mommy bloggers work to create new

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-90948267510482971132009-08-03T15:19:00.002-04:002009-08-03T15:30:41.340-04:00

Am I still going on about this rotten summer? Yes, yes I am. This summer is apparently the worst (most rain, least sun, coolest weather, rottenest weekends) since 1992.1992? That was the summer I graduated high school. My last summer in the parental bosom, free to host weekend patio parties and loll around with my friends. BBQ's and bikinis at the cottage, all the cottages, days at the beach

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-75348278800928796382009-08-01T11:37:00.002-04:002009-08-01T11:42:45.624-04:00

Munchkin and Pynchon get along much better when I'm out of the house. Generally, my evening exit line is "Mommy is going to yoga," because although it took many weeks of tantrums to establish this routine, when she hears these words, Munchkin now calmly waves goodbye and tells me to do a princess pose.On the weekend, though, during the day? If I want a break from the overpassionate attachment, we

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-45355254038403185792009-07-30T13:16:00.002-04:002009-07-30T13:31:22.969-04:00

Here are things I can do fairly easily: corral documents and family and apply for (and receive) a sizable home equity line of credit; determine when wood screws or drywall anchors are required to attach a table to a wall; stick to my guns when a contractor suddenly changes the payment arrangement for a renovation; pick out age- and size-appropriate clothes for children; pack for a week away at a

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-2472952232260872202009-07-29T16:53:00.001-04:002009-07-29T16:54:35.431-04:00

And I'll share it with you:

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-91047083870002957912009-07-28T12:50:00.005-04:002009-07-28T12:56:55.335-04:00

It feels like it hasn't been warm or sunny for months. I'm so bored, stuck in the house in the face of driving rain, that I'm literally watching the grass grow.The only thing this weather is good for is growing grass. Luckily, this was the summer we picked to seed the lawn.Sigh. Watch it grow with me. You know you're not going outside or anything. Al the shots are from the same angle, but

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-65887357385587812412009-07-23T15:58:00.002-04:002009-07-23T17:30:53.102-04:00

Sigh.You know how you go to parties as an undergrad and people ask you what historical period you wish you could have been born in and because you're a woman you have to say "well, duh, women have always been oppressed and right now is the best of the worst so I'll just stay right here in contemporary postmodernity and besides I'm severely myopic with very crooked teeth and club foot besides so I

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-11083702959584968332009-07-22T22:29:00.004-04:002009-07-22T22:38:41.097-04:00

First, move everything in your entire house at least three feet from all exterior walls, without blocking any doors or closets.Next, drill a MILLION holes along the exterior walls:Then, fill the holes with insulating goo made from seawater, that comes in a giant hose that runs halfway down the block to a giant truck that makes a noise like a jet all day so that your neighbours start to cast

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-48528110795313042222009-07-21T15:54:00.002-04:002009-07-21T16:14:40.874-04:00

Seven year old Noah came bounding back toward the campfire, holding hands with Munchkin. They had run up to the cottage together to find some plastic dinosaurs to play with, the way new friends do, sifting through each other's toy collections in search of common cause."Did you say she's three years old?" he asked, "because she talks really good. My brother is four and he doesn't talk that good."

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-53286396501950507702009-07-12T00:22:00.002-04:002009-07-12T00:29:25.918-04:00

... while you're up on a ladder painting a doorframe on the second floor is this:"MIMI!!! Come outside! The car is on fire!"I wait for the punchline, but Pynchon sounds kinda earnest and in fact repeats his entreaty. Since I'm painting in my underwear (don't ask) I quickly pull something on and yes, when I get outside, my car is on fire. He was just heading out on an errand and no one had used

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-57627582561930203622009-07-03T15:14:00.003-04:002009-07-03T15:42:33.264-04:00

I had an insight last night, as I muted the TV, dropped my knitting onto the couch, and sprinted upstairs to Munchkin's room for the third time in an hour. The insight was this: sometimes it's my job to be the bad guy.I marched into her room as she scampered about, alternately crowing at my presence and whining for ... a glass of water, another stuffed animal, a book that had fallen to the floor

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-87441678164021590602009-06-23T20:06:00.005-04:002009-06-23T20:37:56.081-04:00

I was thinking of that Henry Ford quote today, about the Model T, remember: "any colour you want, as long as it's black." Munchkin was sitting in a Mennonite buggy as we were on a farm tour, and the tour guide, a progressive-order member of that church, was describing a similar policy for the horse-drawn wagons that still drive our local roads:All black. Thing is, the idea resonated not so much

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-10289689924127476152009-06-21T06:59:00.005-04:002009-06-21T08:06:10.970-04:00

Does anyone else read the Canadian 'shelter mags'? I subscribe to Canadian House and Home and to Style at Home, and have for about a year, since we bought the new house and I became well and truly determined that I was going to need some skills to disburden it of its 'a family moved in here in 1957 and the last one just left last week' vibe.Besides, it's way cheaper if you subscribe. And it's

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-72492205787679159912009-06-10T00:13:00.004-04:002009-06-10T00:37:54.182-04:00

[Ur, hi. Remember me? I used to blog here fairly frequently? Sorry about the absence.]Today is Munchkin's birthday. She's three. Fittingly, I woke up precisely at 4:30 am, the very hour and minute at which she made her appearance and opened her eyes to the world. Less fittingly, I woke up at 4:30 am because I am on the West coast and suffering from jet lag, twisted into a single bed in a dorm

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-48733694763308312292009-05-23T23:24:00.004-04:002009-05-23T23:33:35.176-04:00

[Doorbell rings][Mad dash from bathroom, in robe, fearing doorbell will enrage Munchkin, who is just easing into the tail end of a tantrum, at 10pm]"Oh, um, yeah ... HI! Come on in, yes yes yes, it's great to see you, I'm so glad you could come over! Oh this? No, it's nothing, I just got out of the shower, of course come in come in. Let me just ... ah [pulls down robe, to better cover rear end]

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-14289293111017956352009-05-20T12:36:00.004-04:002009-05-20T12:51:28.599-04:00

Three days of weekend is a lot of fun to pack in!To the farmer's market! On the bus! With a friend!Visiting the next door neighbours! Who have, omigod, omigod, PINK chairs!A concert in the Queen's namesake park, again accessed by a bus ride! ("Mom, let's be conductors, and conduct with our feet! Like this! Wave your feet, Mom!")A stroll across the park's many pedestrian bridges, and, miracle!

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-1665653442541016012009-05-18T00:58:00.004-04:002009-05-18T02:23:01.890-04:00

Pynchon and I were digging up our front yard this afternoon, each in our respective patch, hunched over and flinging clods of dirt toward the wheelbarrow when I thought ... hey, it was exactly one year ago that we moved in here!So I mentioned that to him and we both stood there for a minute.Huh.It's an anniversary I want to celebrate, even though we didn't want to move, didn't choose to move,

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-4643786547766258652009-05-08T13:28:00.002-04:002009-05-08T13:55:29.256-04:00

Did I ever tell you I was flagged as gifted in elementary school? I was thinking about that again this morning as my mystery rash and I sat in the waiting room at the Family Health Centre, reading a several months old McLeans article on cutbacks to gifted education programs.Tested early and often, my IQ scores varied between the 130s and 150s. Whatever. I was reading aloud to my sister by the

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-69388996516489854962009-05-03T19:38:00.005-04:002009-05-03T19:51:33.767-04:00

... bring May flowers. And Munchkin was yelping "It's MAY, it's MAY" when I picked her up from preschool on Friday. The flowers are out, all around us: hyachinths, grape hyacinths, tulips, daffodils, and forget-me-nots. The crocuses are already done, and even the tulip trees are sheeding some of their petals.This year, we are tackling the yard. 55 feet by 50 feet of gone-to-scrub space that

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-32800839446500806452009-04-30T22:26:00.002-04:002009-04-30T22:53:02.465-04:00

The school was built in 1954--I know this because the slide show, "A history of [Chichi District], our neighbourhood", showed a photo of the building we were sitting in, from 1955. The inside of the gym didn't betray any concessions to the changing fashions or realities of the past 50 years. The walls were painted cinderblock, the doors, dented steel with glass panels gridded with wire. The

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-86283445286581326422009-04-29T12:48:00.003-04:002009-04-29T12:49:52.777-04:00

It's worth a click to see the big version: she's in mid-hop, gleeful and on her way to a tea party Way the Hell Up North with Gramma.

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-65395616501365417432009-04-27T20:52:00.004-04:002009-04-27T21:07:35.080-04:00

I held the door at the local brewery as the young whippersnapper clerk helped an elderly gentlemen out with his purchases."Thanks," called the whippersnapper, "Your party is in the back!"Um, what?I grabbed my six of Pynchon's favorite dark ale, and stood at the cash to wait for the whippersnapper to return."Oh, sorry," he said, "I thought you were here for the party.""What party?""Um, all the

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-31649467819304031882009-04-22T19:05:00.003-04:002009-04-22T19:33:57.242-04:00

We idle at a red light this morning, Munchkin and I, driving to campus. She looks out her window and says, "Two trees, Mom, that house has two trees." She pauses for a microsecond before adding "A Mom tree, and a girl tree."Munchkin's is a binary world, with bears and bunnies and puppies and cats and even trees and spoons and cat toys rigorously paired off into Mommys and girls. Her whole

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-37364363392015626752009-04-16T20:13:00.003-04:002009-04-16T20:54:34.000-04:00

Hi. My name is Mimi. I'm 5'7" tall and I weigh 128 pounds. My problem, my problem for what feels like my whole life, is this: I distrust my body. I am not sure how it looks, if it works right, if it is normal. If it is right. If I can even see it right.I know my mind pretty well. My consciousness and I have spent a lot of time together, and, frankly, not much that it does surprises me.My body

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-61673032849791197122009-04-14T22:11:00.003-04:002009-04-14T22:29:17.074-04:00

Like S-- last week, M-- approached us sheepishly tonight when we picked up Munchkin at daycare. Out of the corner of my eye I registered that my girl was not wearing shoes, which was odd. "I feel soooo bad," said M--, "We were all taking off our outside clothes and Munchkin was standing so close to me that when I shuffled my chair over as I turned around, I felt it come down on her foot ..."M--

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-62245881804986772082009-04-13T19:35:00.002-04:002009-04-13T19:37:00.847-04:00

Enjoy the sun on your faces, the wind in your hair, everyone!

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-69482296376180267862009-04-09T07:14:00.002-04:002009-04-09T07:24:03.559-04:00

We went Way the Hell Up North, Munchkin and I, for a wee break. And part of the rupture of routine was to have my perceptions of my own mother twisted somehow.I read the paper and looked out at the lake as Munchkin played teaset happily by herself. After a while her orbit tightened around my chair, as it will, and she started to get a little silly. She pulled my slipper off one foot and turned

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-83525000290786531172009-04-06T21:35:00.003-04:002009-04-06T21:54:00.961-04:00

Just in case you're keeping score, Pynchon evened the game.From the bathroom early this morning, as I fished around my makeup bag looking for my eyeliner, I listened to Pynchon and Munchkin in the midst of their daily, heated, wardrobe negotiation. To give you some context, we consider the negotiations successful if, after protracted struggle, at least two of the three following conditions

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-17691320040394036602009-03-30T17:54:00.003-04:002009-03-30T18:25:18.495-04:00

For the most part, I leave Professor Mimi at the door when I parent. I just don't know how much good it does Munchkin to have a professional wordsmith/media theorist/lecturer preparing toast for her or tickling her belly. She CERTAINLY doesn't need Professor Mimi testing her IQ (as my mom did to me when I was three) or flipping flash cards at her or working on her alphabet. Mama Mimi is much

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-84899999010971846472009-03-27T15:04:00.003-04:002009-03-27T16:19:21.653-04:00

Do you ever stop and really look at your kids? It's funny how Pynchon and I can be with her so much, talk about her so much, and still I sometimes miss the big picture. I get caught up in the details, caught up in the moment. I see her in snapshots and glances. Think about how I write here, even: do you have a sense of Munchkin the girl?My girl, early spring, 2009.She's a silly kid, and what

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-36215904654860126562009-03-25T21:14:00.004-04:002009-03-25T21:19:44.904-04:00

In answer to what I had indeed been hoping was a rhetorical question ...Ahhh, spring! You came! Soggy and grey, just like I remembered--but we've got the sun on our feet and held up above our heads

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-57795441477909508092009-03-24T17:01:00.002-04:002009-03-24T17:16:01.760-04:00

Friggin' Twilight books. Lessee: Auntie Soo-See handed over all four of them to me on Sunday, and today is Tuesday, so, yeah, I'm on the third one.Friggin' Twilight books. That is all.NOPE! Not all! I cannot stop reading them: they are page-turners. I simply must know what happens next. And yet, what happens next is sometimes (old papery-skinned European underground cabal of vicious

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-61682256058861919862009-03-18T11:30:00.002-04:002009-03-18T11:37:25.571-04:00

... for something completely different. Behold, the 'clown b00b dance'. Special thanks to my husband, the inimitable Pynchon, for allowing me to share this with you:

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-15535474930388121752009-03-16T10:54:00.002-04:002009-03-16T11:23:31.443-04:00

I was so angry I could hardly see straight. My breathing had become shallow and I could hear a ringing in my ears. Tears were springing to my eyes and my arms and legs jangled, looking for something ... to kick? to punch? I stormed into the house, trying to hide my anger from Munchkin, a blameless bystander to this emotional storm. I hugged her, kissed her, took off her boots and patted her

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-81274694205857639172009-03-11T10:46:00.002-04:002009-03-11T10:55:49.485-04:00

My husband. He makes me laugh. Last night he told me the following story, the kind of story that makes you choke out a strangled laughing, "Oh, I'm soooo blogging that!" He said okay, because that's the kind of good sport he is.So. As we're loading the dishwasher and rehashing our days, Pynchon says, "Hey, 'Christina' at work is pregnant again" and I offered my usual response, which is to

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-43258850820741039262009-03-08T20:12:00.002-04:002009-03-08T20:25:01.950-04:00

I'm finally well enough that we felt safe to book the babysitter Friday night, so that we could go out, as a couple, on a civilized date.We brushed our teeth, spruced ourselves up a little, and decided to eat dinner at a nice restaurant nearby that just opened. We sat in the gimmick seats: a dining bar on a pass-through into the kitchen. We watched the clang and clatter of food prep, held

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-36921790651372171642009-03-07T22:28:00.003-05:002009-03-07T22:59:50.901-05:00

Tonight, I'll set all the clocks ahead by an hour before my Magic Bag and I retire to bed, all snug and cozy against the pounding rain. I guess it's spring. I've never liked spring, really. Half-melted snowbanks, sand-crusted and full of dog shit, do not inspire euphoria, in me, at any rate. Chill rains and grey skies do not lift my spirits as much as a crisp winter sun reflected off endless

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-71668417494717241692009-03-04T10:29:00.001-05:002009-03-04T10:30:49.275-05:00

A study in mother-daughter simililarity of habit ...

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-75911012653856236332009-03-01T16:01:00.003-05:002009-03-03T15:45:51.204-05:00

UPDATE! It's acute sinusitis, with developing secondary bronchitis. Doctor told me I looked terrible, and suggests in future I stay away from sick people ... okey-dokey then. ----Academics have more speaking tics than other people, I think. Maybe it comes from spending so many hours of every work week filling the air of the classroom (and, it is to be hoped, the minds of the undergraduates

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-33081870076603027132009-02-18T22:20:00.002-05:002009-02-18T22:29:18.733-05:00

I spoke too soon, gleefully, of being plague-free this Valentine's day. Tuesday night found me, 10 pm, at the pharmacy counter of the local 24 hour Shoppers Drug Mart, trying to find a way to keep Munchkin's fever down (apparently, you alternate doses of acetaminophen and ibuprofen) and stocking up on popsicles, juice, and board books about princesses. Picture me in my parka, and my Sorels, and

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-24770699213921122122009-02-14T20:23:00.002-05:002009-02-14T20:34:02.195-05:00

This has been the best Valentine's day in recent memory. After an awful night of coughing and noseblowing and poor sleep, I woke up to the sound of Pynchon and Munchkin arguing: she was having a severe Mommy-mommy-mommy tantrum and he'd just banned her from TV for the day. Pynchon was feeling gross and headed back to bed for a nap--two hours later, after playing with every toy in the house,

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-57784458461164375952009-02-12T21:24:00.003-05:002009-02-12T21:55:32.083-05:00

When you host any kind of party, you look around your house and notice things you don't usually see. For example, when you are hosting a gaggle of your mother's sisters, and your cousins, and their kids you think: oh God, they're going to report back to Mom immediately ... that Munchkin's bangs are in her eyes.So Pynchon readied for the party by elegantly plating snacks for the kids. Me, I cut

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-50792629431320868702009-02-10T10:33:00.003-05:002009-02-10T10:35:43.748-05:00

I'm giving a lecture tonight at the public library on personal blogging, as a means of self-expression and community building. I've been told by the organizers to expect a crowd of 10-30 women, mostly around 60 years old or so. I'm imagining they're newbies who might be interested in starting blogs.Got any fast advice for someone interested in starting a blog?(And by all means, keep laughing at

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-14230467484742054802009-02-09T16:37:00.003-05:002009-02-09T20:28:49.298-05:00

edit: now with a custom built LOL illustration ...--Sometimes the purpose of your life is to provide blog fodder--in this way, the worst days, the most incredibly ill-starred days, become not cosmic proof of the Great Being's disdain or your own fundamental unworthiness, but rather material, so that even in the middle of a miserable experience, a wee tiny part of it is already being redeemed,

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-15323663410479712582009-02-07T13:30:00.005-05:002009-02-07T20:14:13.290-05:00

It was my birthday last week: I'm 36 (yes, Beck, you may be surprised all over again: I'm still one year younger than you.) We had a tremendously big party, I wore a tiara; there were chicken wings, there was bourbon. It was the best of times ... it ... was ...Hey. Wait a minute. I've got nothing to complain about.[unless you count getting REALLY WINDED in front of everyone while blowing

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-24133649808328146192009-01-27T22:03:00.002-05:002009-01-27T22:14:34.356-05:00

Scene: Cold sunny morning, winter. Interior, Toyota Echo sedan. Mommy drives, Daddy sits in the passenger seat, and in the rear, surrounded by toys and books and doudous, sits Munchkin in her carseat.Munchkin, darkly and to herself: "And I said, NO! I don't want ANY parents looking at me."[plays]Munchkin: "Do-do-do-do-do-Dora! Super cool esplorador!" Pauses, considers, "NO! I don't' want

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-51448404018148383792009-01-23T08:59:00.002-05:002009-01-23T09:32:30.926-05:00

Yesterday, as Kittenpie celebrated a perfectly ordinary day, I envied her. A little tongue-in-cheek, possibly, she narrated the miracle of her morning: a cooperative child. As I wrote in my overlong, hysterical comment, I was jealous. I asked her to send the vibe my way.By God, it worked.This morning, Munchkin woke up sunshine and smiles. She let me remove her diaper and jumped happily up

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-84645910576960686302009-01-16T15:58:00.003-05:002009-01-16T16:25:32.595-05:00

My mantra for 2009 was to be 'grace, dignity, and professionalism'--this in contrast to the grump, ignominy, and general buffoonery of the greater part of 2008. I made elaborate plans: I sorted a week's worth of snazzy outfits before school resumed! I dusted off my paper planner, and noted important deadlines! I turned up the volume on the alarm clock and made pinky-swear mutual deals with

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33659348.post-69177134527274298582009-01-07T22:17:00.002-05:002009-01-07T22:21:20.157-05:00

I cut the top off my space-bar thumb. Yes, it really hurts. No, I don't recommend amateur home amputation. Yes, everything is 10 times more difficult.I'll tell you the story when typing isn 't excruciatingly slow and error-prone, and randomly painful.

Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812707312289852258noreply@blogger.com15