Where's my mohawk?

You know how strict teetotalers are supposed to basically be repressed alcoholics? Well, I think uptight people like myself are probably repressed anarchists. I say this because I frequently find myself stamping down anti-social and violent urges, like head-butting the jackass sitting back-to-back with me on the bus, or kicking saggy-panted teens into the street (after yanking said pants down), or stabbing annoying classmates in the head with my pen. If I actually acted on any of these urges, I would be so punk rock. *heh heh*

Racy!

I was riding the bus last week, and I had noticed this, um, interesting looking couple at the bus stop. Apparently they were sitting in the seat right behind me, because I suddenly heard the woman moaning, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Four times "Oh!", that's right. The girl I was sharing the seat with and I both whipped our heads around (so we were turning toward each other), but then turned right back to face the front. It was so hilarious, because usually the Germans on the bus are totally unflappable. I guess they make a special exception for orgasmic old ladies on the bus. hee hee!

And in that vein...
Hannah always asks us if it is ok if she plays with her Barbies. Why wouldn't it be? Then she goes in her room and closes the door and *closes all the blinds*. John almost slayed me when he said she'll go blind if she doesn't quit playing with the Barbies so much. Please don't ever show her this post.

Dance, Dance, Dance

Am I a mean mother (1) for making Hannah go to ballet? If she had her druthers, she’d lie on the couch watching tv every day after school. John and I have talked about it, and we agree she needs some kind of extra-curricular activity.

Today she was quite the Chatty Cathy after school, but as soon as we got home, she made a pitifully transparent attempt at crying and claiming she had a headache. While I was making my world-famous headache cure (hot cocoa), she was using the kitchen counter as a barre to do a jump they have been practicing in ballet class. Doesn’t like ballet, my butt. She was as happy as a clam once she got to class. Sheesh.

Her teacher wants to split up the class because it is getting too large and unwieldy (14 kids barely fit in the room, much less at the barre), so Hannah will probably move into the group that meets an hour later. That means she’ll have an extra hour after school on Wednesdays to be a slug before we have to leave for class, but that also means I’ll have to drive in the dark. Oh, well, the days are starting to get longer again, so it won’t be dark forever.

(1) I’m already a mean mutha’. I was just wondering about the other kind.

Apparently I'm much more vain than many of you might have guessed, because I am obsessing (again) over the encroaching white in my hair, which is not so much creeping as making a kamikaze attack. I recently replaced my long-dead hair clip thingie, and the contrast between the end of my hair (which is almost waist-length since I'm too lazy/cheap to get it cut) and the top became suddenly, horrifyingly obvious, as captured here for your viewing enjoyment and sympathy.
 

Bleebity, Blah, Bloo

I realized that it was probably time to put something up here or I’d lose all 3 of my readers. Unfortunately, not a lot has been going on that is particularly bloggable.

Since xmas, we’ve had snow, rain, a smidge more snow, and a hard freeze, so now there’s half-an-inch of snow frozen on to everything. That sure beats the 6 inches we had to scrape off the car over the holidays just to go to the store. And we haven’t gotten anything like the amount they had further south.

I finally broke out my sexy, blue pajamas and have had to endure ridicule from my loving family, but at least I’m warm.

I am on the brink of conquest in what shall evermore be known as “The Battle of the Plantar Warts.” Poor Hannah had one on each foot, but I guess we weren’t treating them aggressively enough, because one of them added 3 offspring, so after New Year’s I really got after them, applying salicylic acid 3-4 times a day and scraping off the dead skin with a cuticle trimmer at least once a day. It was gross but satisfying. I’m still treating 2 small spots that look like they still have the tell-tale black bits in them, but the other 2 warts are completely gone, all without the dreaded doctor’s visit. (I don’t know what Hannah had against the doctor; he is just the sweetest, gentlest man.)

Hannah’s teacher has made notes on her math homework more than once that she needs to practice her mental reckoning, but she is horribly resistant to the idea. I tried to get her to do some word problems on the way home from school on Friday (“if there are 7 cages at the zoo, and 6 animals in each cage...”), but she flat out refused to learn anything (her formulation). And she doesn’t even have the excuse that the boy behind her and his non-stop stream of dirty jokes are more interesting than multiplication (that was my problem in the third grade).

In the next 8 days, I have 1 final exam and 1 presentation, so I will in all likeliness be absent again for a while. See you on the flip side!