Friday, July 08, 2005

What's up with me


Cold weather


Bloody nose

Exams (1 down, 4 to go)

See you in a week!

Eat Your Heart Out, Siouxsie Sioux

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Yes, that was *breast*

Sorry, I meant to include the following info and link:

The Columbia World of Quotations. 1996.

Music has charms to soothe a savage breast,To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
William Congreve (1670–1729), British dramatist. Almeria, in The Mourning Bride, act 1, sc. 1 (1697). Opening lines of play.

As I told Lovely Husband, I like to think of this as a "learning blog." Or rather, a "showing off blog." Same difference.

Monday, July 04, 2005


I just measured Darling Daughter, and she has topped 50 inches (50-1/4 to be exact). That means that she has grown 4-1/8 inches since we moved here (2 years in September).

Also, my husband has the cutest muffin butt. It's been a life-long blessing for him--just ask his mom. She tells the following story: when he was 9 or 10, a little girl of his acquaintance was heard to say that she liked the way his pants fit in the back. So do I, little girl, so do I.

Back to your regular programming...

Love Your Inner Hulk

Nee smash!

And not in your girly, screechy, glass-breaking way, either. I need a club.

Nee smash trees!

Nee smash bushes!

Nee smash fellow bus passengers!

Nee smash loud, inconsiderate classmates!

Nee smash girl wearing iridescent sequined flip-flops! ROAR!

Damn. D.D.'s "B-O-M-B-Y" song soothes the savage breast when I want to SMASH stuff.

Also this Ilona video creeped me out at first, but now she makes me irrationally happy. (Be patient for the it to load.) We see it in the morning on the kids' channel.


I don't know about that saying, "The exception proves the rule." (1) The *rule* proves the rule; for example, "nee should avoid sharp objects," proved by nee stabbing a craft knife under her fingernail while making puppet wigs. (Later that night I sliced strawberries without doing myself a mortal injury. Go me!)

(1) Actually, it's "prove" in the sense of "proofing yeast", i.e., testing it.

The puppets have been a medium success. D.D. spends too much time saying she's bored, and since I have been hoarding boxes, toilet paper tubes, bottles, and every other craft-able item for D.D.'s after-school class, I liberated a few items for "Stewart Family Puppet Theater." A laundry detergent box was transformed into a breathtaking stage, ready to present the comedic highs and tragic lows of the toilet-paper tube soccer players, as drawn by D.D. and yours truly. I dipped into my yarn stash (which takes up a whole under-the-bed craft box) and made several wigs (aka pompons) that can be easily crammed into the top of the tubes. We've had the most fun so far making the hair "grow" by pushing a popsicle stick up the tube. Stay tuned for further adventures in puppetry.


We had several days of pleasant weather—which is high praise from me—but a low-pressure system named "Zeus" moved in around lunchtime and put an end to it. After L.H. left to pick up D.D. from school (around 3), it started to rain. When it started to hail (pretty tiny bits), I jumped in the car to carry out my "rescue operation" as D.D. put it. I found the two of them taking shelter in the open garage of one of D.D.'s school mates. His mother drives like a bat out of hell, so they were hoping the rain would let up before she careened into her garage and crushed them. So not only did they not get pelted by hail, but I also saved them from certain death. Go me!

We got a letter from my grandmother in West Texas, and she mentioned the hot weather there. D.D. immediately grabbed some notepaper and wrote:

"Hi, Ma, don't you dare to talk about the weather! The weather is very, very super bad! Love, D.D."