Yahtzee Champ-to-be

Hannah was playing with some dice she found stashed among her other games. She shook 6 dice in her hand, and then rolled 5 sixes and 1 five. She's a natural! Of course, she whipped her dad and uncle like red-headed stepchildren the first time they played Clue together, so maybe she has some kind of gaming gene enabled.

I'm beginning to think Hannah has somehow become a tool of the latex industry. Once again, she has spent her allowance on balloons. And not just any balloons, but enormous balloons larger than her torso that she is taping to the ceiling to make a disco in her room. Necessity is the mother of invention, they say. 

Fashion and Hormones Equals Fun With Nee

Have you ever seen those ugly jeans (tell us how you really feel, Nee) made out of really dark blue denim—dark enough you can’t see the weave of the fabric—and “enhanced” with iridescent glitter? The wedding shop is apparently now offering evening gowns made of this “wonder fabric.”

But that wasn’t even the worst crime against fashion I spotted yesterday. Remember those tiered skirts that were so popular last year? (I still love mine!) Now imagine tiered *pants.* The top two tiers were a striped fabric, maybe denim, and the bottom tier—with a *ruffle*--appeared to be velvet. I think she may be attending the clown college across the river. With a major in rodeo clowning.

Hannah occasionally decides to sleep on the made-out couch, so she hasn’t slept in her own bed for a while. That affects our sleep-related routines, of course. I can easily snuggle up to her on the couch, something I can’t quite manage in the 2-story play bed. But that also means that she can reach me. So my usual method of waking her up, tickling, has been turned against me. And for some reason, yesterday morning she insisted on trying to *lick my thumb.* She’s getting so big, I couldn’t fight her off! So my thumb got licked, and I burst into tears. (You’d think it’d be no big deal by now; my sister used to lick my face all the time. Maybe you had to be there.) The crying was her cue to run off to the bathroom while I sobbed all over her blankets. “Are you feeling a bit, um, emotional?” John asked. I bit back my first impulse to tell him to fuck off and answered, “I don’t know.” And wouldn’t you know it: that afternoon—POOF!—I started my period. So at least I wasn’t permanently sliding into insanity.

I have shocking news for you. You might want to sit down. If you have a bad heart, you might want to pop the top off the nitroglycerin. I am actually *enjoying this winter*. There, I've said it. I know that in this photo the sun is smothered by the clouds/fog/Old Man Winter, but the trees look so magical in their mantle of frost. It's different from the look of snow, which has occasionally sent me into a murderous rage, but not today. I wish I had a camera with me yesterday evening, because Hannah and I watched a RAINBOW SUNSET outside the door to her ballet studio. It was more beautiful than I could describe with pitiful words. 

Hannah, the Hoff, and Wasted Time

Hannah was still coughing on Monday, so she got to stay home one more day. It occurred to us that her class’s field trip meant she’d be walking around outside in near-freezing temps, so she’d be better off at home. It was hard to concentrate on translating, though, so I didn’t get nearly as much done as I’d hoped to.

Hannah’s getting so big. If John’s measurements over the weekend were correct, she had grown 2 centimeters in one month, bringing her up to 52 inches or so. That means she’s within 9 inches of my height (I’m *almost* 5’1).

We were playing Pictionary the other day, and she drew a really good picture of a horse wearing blinders—well, it was good once it was done; while she was drawing, my guesses included a rabbit being eaten by a crocodile and a giraffe. Unfortunately, her word was *blEnder*, not blInder. It was a heroic effort, though.

Hannah and her best friend take turns sleeping over on Friday nights, and we usually let them watch tv if there’s something appropriate on, and a movie if there’s not. One Friday, while flipping through the channels for them, I found Knight Rider. Yep, the original. (Turns out there’s a newer version with a whole fleet of talking vehicles. urg) “Ooh, ooh!” said the friend. She *totally* dug it. I believe it was the first time she had seen it. I think Germans must have some kind of genetic predisposition to like David Hasselhoff. (Of course, even the Fug Girls can’t get enough of the Hoff.) And here’s the link again to the Hasselhoffian Recursion for your viewing... uh, pleasure might be too strong a word; let’s just leave it at “viewing.”

My mom sent us about 10 boxes of Girl Scout cookies around Thanksgiving, providing us with a running start into the holiday bloat. She’s lovely, but evil. Anyhow, I was talking to her the other day, and she offered to send some more this season. I flat out refused her. We are trying to wean Hannah off the sweets, and a 20-lb. care package of cookies is not going to help. I prefer her to make her body out of chicken and noodles and apples (some of the few things she will actually eat) instead of out of Thin Mints and Peanut-Butter Patties.

Apparently I’m not the only one around here to enjoy the winter sunshine. John’s plumbago has put out a bloom. Sadly, Hannah’s fire bean plant didn’t survive to make it all the way to the ceiling, but since its beans are poisonous, I’m not too sad that it didn’t get the chance to make any.

One of John’s students gave him a novel to read and pass on, Colony Girl. I wasn’t too impressed with it. (John doesn’t really read novels. He is currently immersed in a scientific book on the Indo-Europeans.) The story is about a teenaged girl living in a religious colony, and she sees through everyone’s foibles and wants to get away. I read the first 5 and the last 70 pages, and I knew everything that happened in the 200pages in between. And the protagonist didn’t make me care enough about her to want to go back and read the middle. So...not too impressed. (Apparently some The Library Journal wasn’t either, looking at their review on amazon.)

One day I will be so far ahead on my classwork, etc., that I will be able to read my pile o' Pratchett waiting for me. Until then...

Ps. New Flickr photos of Hannah. See link on right.

Return of the...Whatever

King of the Jungle?
Originally uploaded by NeeS.

This, uh, statuary stands at the entrance to [Name of City] College, which I was under the impression was some kind of prep school. It now appears that this school has been bought out by the circus and turned into a clown college. You just know that the posh lions guarding, like, the New York Public Library are laughing up their sleeves at this poor guy.

Good, Bad, and Indifferent

You know, I could adopt the “I (don’t) like...” format, and blog entries would practically write themselves! To wit:

I don’t like static. I usually wear my hair up, but poor Hannah has the “fork-in-light-socket” look every time she sits on the couch. And I am SICK of shocking myself on the tv, vcr, computer, Hannah, cat, kitchen faucet, and tile wall. I’m not kidding; I’ve started grounding myself before touching electronics.

Despite my previous declarations of hatred, I am completely neutral toward winter this year. I attribute this to the greater-than-usual amount of sunshine. As I have mentioned before, ad nauseum, I can handle most anything served to me with a side of sunshine.

We let Hannah play hooky today, and, by extension, ourselves (to a lesser degree). John had one class to teach this morning, so I got to miss both my classes to watch Hannah. He got home five minutes after my second class started. Woot! She actually does have a cold; if she laughs, she starts this gurgly coughing that sounds really gross. But since she only ran a slight fever yesterday evening and none today, she goes back to school tomorrow. Lucky thing: they are going on a field trip, so she really will have only half her classes.

Since I worked on a translation gig over the weekend, I gave myself the day off (mostly) to watch tv and play with Hannah and to chat with John. It’s nice to be able to have a conversation with my husband once in a while that is not about making dinner or doing the dishes. Of course, those conversations could also be interesting to the outside observer since John always accuses me of “treacherously” doing the dishes so it is his turn, even if the dishes have been piling up for 2 or 3 days. (Why yes, we are firm believers in the piling system of kitchen organization, why do you ask?)

To make the day seem like less of a blow-off, I folded the last of the laundry from the weekend and worked on some creative writing projects. Little did I know that as soon as dinner was over and I wanted to blog, the damn sink would seal itself closed, forcing me to everything short of voodoo to get the damn thing unblocked again. In the process, the dishwasher overflowed (just a little this time), so I had to mop, making Hannah unhappy with me because *she* wanted to mop. She is finally getting into chores, even bartering hanging up her clean clothes (she usually puts away folded stuff) to be allowed to sleep in our bed last night. But tonight really wasn’t the night for her to take up mopping. Tomorrow, though...

We bought a faceted crystal sphere so we could enjoy the occasional sunshine on more than one level, and here are the results in the downstairs hallway. (It was too bright to get a photo upstairs.) But even with the sunshine, it only got up to about 37F today. So tiny rainbows was about it for big events at Casa Nee. And Hannah is coming down with a bad cold, probably the same one that kept her friend out of school two days last week.  

I do not like...

...my daughter waking me up in the night 3 times in one week. I thought she had outgrown that.

...my husband tricking me into getting up at 8 am on Sunday. He refused to believe that “cotton on to” (1) was a legitimate usage, and being too much of a reference-nerd to let that pass, I was forced to get up and prove him wrong.

...discovering our cats lounging on the dining-room table when I went to look in the dictionary.

...the tree at the bus stop in town. It is covered in enormous spikes that could be really dangerous if I were a foot taller. And the equally enormous pods it drops (as long as my forearm) look like they could be incubators for alien beings.

...clouds. True, it is officially -1C (about 30F), but it feels colder than when it was officially -5C (about 23F). I hate you, clouds.

(1) from Merriam-Webster online:

cotton
Function: intransitive verb
1 : to take a liking -- used with to <cottons to people easily>
2 : to come to understand -- used with to or on to <cottoned on to the fact that our children work furiously -- H. M. McLuhan>

I like...

...the neighbor’s yard. It is full of garden gnomes, including 2 sets of Snow White and the 7 dwarfs.

...the little carvings on buildings around town, like the faces and shields above the doors to a bookstore.

...the record store near the English Department. Any shop that makes me want to run out and buy a turntable so I can buy Born to Add and Pet Sounds from them is all right by me.

...one of the dresses at the infamous Marriage Royale. It’s white with gold, lacy trim. It looks like something Björk would wear if her swan were at the cleaners. It makes me happy.

...sunshine on a cold day. And it has been COLD. The high pressure front that had Russia locked in ice is now hovering over the rest of Europe. Today was a balmy 30F, but when I left the house yesterday morning, it was about 23F. As long as Mr. Sunshine is there, though, I am happy as a clam wrapped in a balaclava.

Hannah Breaks Hearts

Hannah told John last week that she didn’t want him to read to her at bedtime anymore because she is too big for that now. *crack*

Tonight she was doing her division problems like a champ. I asked if she had been practicing her multiplication, and she said, “Yeah, with Dad.” She never wants to with me. *crack*

We’re sobbing on the inside.

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!

A Little John, A Little Nee

I can't believe Hannah likes home video shows so much. For the most part, I find myself cringing and empathizing with the poor people getting maimed and embarrassed. She just laughs. Of course, her dad's favorite scene in My Cousin Vinny is when the cocky defense lawyer addresses the court with a bad stutter, which is when I get up and go to the bathroom or get a drink of water; it's terrible.

So tonight she is laughing at the misfortunes of others, recorded for posterity on video, and last night she was crying almost hysterically at the calf-roping event while we were watching some rodeo documentary on tv. She was afraid the calves might strangle themselves (to death!) on the ropes. She also won't watch nature shows; too many animals eating other animals. But show a man getting racked or a woman sitting on a chair that breaks under her, and Hannah eats it up. *sigh* Fortunately, she only sees this show once in a blue moon.

Heads up!

I’m fiddling around with the content in the frame to the right, including a link to my Flickr account, so check it out once in a while for new stuff.

I started this as a completely anonymous blog, using nicknames and pseudonyms for my loved ones, but I feel now that I can loosen up a bit. (1) Not completely, understand, as my husband is a bit nervous about us being foreigners, etc. Anyhow, I’d like to introduce my Darling Daughter, Hannah, and my Lovely Husband, John. Of course, with those names, they are still fairly anonymous. I’m still Nee; that’s one of my family nicknames, bestowed by a nephew ages ago.

(1) Commenters can still be as pseudonymous as they choose, but it’s not a requirement, and hopefully dropping the initials will make it easier for people to comment without have to keep a cheat sheet of who’s who.

I’ve only been out of the house to run a few errands since New Year’s, so I haven’t actually observed anything new that I can comment on here. (2) Back to my cozy hole under a rock for a few more days until school starts back and I can stare at my fellow students.

(2) Except this: somehow, Hannah has it in her head that Las Vegas is the best place in the world. She called it “the place where dreams come true” the other day. I have no idea how this has happened.

The Insanity Stops Here

For me, the spirit of the season can be summed up thusly:
Now I have a little time to hurry up and finish all the crap lying around so my end-of-year tally doesn’t look so dismal.

I have managed to step back from the hobby madness, though, and get a little perspective, which means that my sister’s quilt might possibly probably won’t be done in time for her tenth anniversary in August. (This is the quilt I started before her wedding. *cringe*)

But at least I finished the Millenium Falcon 3D puzzle I got as a gift sometime between 2001 and 2003, if I had to narrow it down. I had actually put all the separate sections together; I just hadn’t got the sections into a model of the M. Falcon. (I couldn’t bring myself to call it the “M.F.” on the Internets, which made me laugh.) And although the previously posted photo *looks* like the model, it is actually an M. Falcon falling apart at the seams. Unfortunately, the few flimsical (1) cardboard “supports” provided with the puzzle were not sufficient in number or strength to actually hold together the surprisingly heavy sections. And a couple of pieces turned out to be missing (2), so there were a couple of holes. At the time I was working on it, I was cursing a blue streak and threatening to quit or throw it away every 5 minutes; it even got a bit surreal there for a bit: I was fantasizing about making a time machine so I could go back and sterilize my parents, for some reason (either for creating a child with a 3D puzzle mania or for buying me the puzzle in the first place, it’s not clear to me now). Anyhow, I kept doggedly at it until it was together enough for a photo and a ranting blog post.

(1) D.D. started using “flimsical” again recently, a word that I love and have been using to excess myself. Feel free to adopt it.

(2) The puzzle company had a form for replacing missing pieces, so I hope to have a complete set if I ever try to do it again. Of course, that would require several years to blur the memory of the first time, and some reengineering and a pot of glue to make it work.

Stop the insanity! Second and last 3D puzzle of the xmas 2005 season. It's the Millenium Falcon, in case you can't tell. Rant on this topic to follow.