Friday, September 22, 2006

Another tacky Nee quote

"If we're made in God's image, he could really use an Epilady."

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Moody Mom

I had forgotten that Depressive Irritable Nee tends to accompany Super-Manic Nee. They’re kind of like conjoined twins. My mood was not helped today by losing a piece of paper from our bank that I kind of needed. I was able to order a new one, but I didn’t until I had torn apart the study looking for it. That and a sense of not-accomplishing-anything-useful today and some serious absent-mindedness have put me in a foul mood. Fortunately, I can remedy it somewhat by cranking Smashing Pumpkins in the kitchen while I cook dinner and drink mint tea. Droning, loud, noisy music makes me happy.

I am in such a bad mood that I am throwing away my lists, because they just make it worse. Usually they help me get a grip, but I just might lose it if I have to look at another one.

While I was cutting Hannah’s hair, she was already formulating plans for using it. First she tried to talk her dad into using a chainsaw to cut some small pieces off the walking stick he is carving.

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Once she realized that wasn’t going to happen, she took matters into her own hands. She found some cardboard—crap! I meant to take that to the recycling center today—to fashion a handle out of, a chunk of her own (pre-cut) hair, some tape, and presto! She has a paintbrush. Here is the first artwork it has produced.

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Wednesday, September 20, 2006


One big, blinking clue that something has gone south re: my IUD (the kind plus hormones) is the return of Super-Manic Nee (TM). To wit, once I was able to sit still today, I could not shut up. When there’s been no one to talk to, I’ve written blog posts and revised on a story. And even worked on my paper, which I’ve otherwise been aggressively avoiding.

Hannah has been watching too much Ren and Stimpy lately. She was talking about the episode where Ren loses all his teeth and the Tooth Beaver comes and gnaws on his nerve endings. She somehow used this as the basis for assuming the existence of the Toe Fairy, who causes toe pain. What happens is that if I clip Hannah’s toenails too short, the toe fairy can climb in there “easierlier” and eat the stuff from under your toenail. I am much too dumb to make this stuff up myself, you know.

Ironically, Hannah lost a tooth just a couple of days after this statement. She asked me straight out for her buck, because she knows “all about the tooth fairy.” And she vows that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are next. So I handed her a buck in change, and she handed me her tooth. But when I reached out to drop the tooth in the trash, she swapped it back. She didn’t like the idea of her *medical waste* going in the garbage. So she’s saving it for John’s dad. bwa ha ha ha! (1)

(1) John’s dad is an unreformed pack rat and sentimentalist. In a box he gave us from his garage, I found John’s *umbilical cord* and his brother’s *baby teeth*. I don’t think I will ever forgive John’s dad for that, but it makes me indescribably happy to think that Hannah will be returning the favor for me.

Like any conscientious student, Hannah has broken in her new notebooks by defacing the illustrations in them. In the people-drawings, this entails the adding of antennae, glasses, and beards—pretty straightforward stuff. (2) But she had to get a bit more creative when it came to the handout with the alpacas on it. Her solution was take a cute little alpaca about like this:

and draw a few curlicues around its face, then add a shiny necklace, a cursive version of this:

The result was pimptastic! (But difficult to photograph, hence the approximation.)

(2) She just showed me an “embellishment” that was the special eye-gear and breathing apparatus for an alien, and then proceeded to tell me the alien’s life story. I told her to just get on with her math homework.

Monday, September 18, 2006

The Many Faces of Hannah

Hannah's first day of school was today, and boy, did her classmates get a surprise! See if you can spot the difference:

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And the before photo:

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Sunday, September 17, 2006

How do I love thee, Consumerism?

Hannah’s head is full of the glamours of shopping these days. Which is funny, because when I take her shopping—for instance, for school clothes—she acts like I have devised a new method of torture involving a bank card and a department store.

I blame her infatuation on the Barbie web site. Most of the games and video clips revolve around malls and shopping. *gag* I try to point out the vapidity of the whole set-up, but she won’t hear a word against her beloved Barbie overlord web site.

But she also has a friend whose family is in a much higher income-tax bracket than us, and who have a correspondingly more friendly attitude to consumerism. I myself am not completely opposed to buying things, but

1. we live in a smallish apartment that would fill up quickly,
and 2. I firmly believe in living within your means.

Besides, past evidence has shown that Hannah loves and plays with new toys for about 2 days before they are relegated to the toy heap under her play-bed. So it seems silly to keep adding to the heap, especially since I’m the only one who ever tackles the heap to prevent it from taking over her whole room.

That being said, I like to see the kinds of things that are available to buy, or that other people have bought. For instance, I saw a woman wearing sandals with a spring where the heel would normally be. *A spring.* Considering the oddly stiff way she was walking, I don’t think the spring was really adding to the comfort-level and wearability of the sandals.

I’m sure that old-school Adidas wouldn’t have those issues, but the pair I saw in Kermit-green with Mr. The Frog himself on them might drive the wearer mad or temporarily blind. When looking for the above link, I discovered that they also sell a Miss Piggy version. I like my Muppets, the seven dwarves know, but that is just going too far.

The one item I coveted desperately, but that disappeared from the window display by the following week, was a set of yard-gnome candles. One was pink and the other apple-green. They were full-sized, so about 10 inches tall. If anyone spots a yard-gnome cookie jar, let me know, because that would satisfy two of my shopping cravings in one go.

Addendum to "Our Girl"

I knew there was at least one other thing I wanted to add to my last post, but I was starting to get a little frayed around the edges and didn't manage to think of it that night. In the meanwhile, I found some notes I had jotted down, and it has all come back to me.

When we were at Legoland, there was a room with tables covered in Legos for their visitors' building pleasure. John started building a car. *ho hum* I started building a house. *thunk* (the sound a someone falling unconscious from dullness) Hannah built a phone booth. With 2 phones, so it was more like a call center.

Also at Legoland, Hannah attracted the stares of the people we were walking behind when she described how she wanted to live in a mansion when she grows up. A mansion set in the middle of a shopping center just for her. *Where did I go wrong as a mother?* Her idea of a good job that would fund all of this was President of the United States. I had to disabuse her of that notion quickly. President pays ok, but not mansion-buying ok.

Hannah and her friend, the cooking duo, found the recipe for "spice soup" they had previously concocted and decided to have another go at it. Except this time they thought it would make a good base for bread. Not wanting to let them loose with flour in my kitchen, I agreed to come help them make pancakes instead. They turned out a little crepe-y, but still surprisingly tasty, considering their origins. They were like a savory version of pancakes, or like seasoned naan bread (Indian). Hannah even ate the leftovers for a couple of breakfasts, which she is otherwise morally opposed to. Now I just have to figure out a way to get her excited about cooking what *we* want to eat, and I can resign from my post as chief cook.