Happy Halloween!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
I live in this townhouse, on the city's east end. It's nothing fancy, but it's comfortable, and I can either walk, bike, or take a five-minute bus ride to pretty much anything I want or need.
Plus, there's this. This is about a hundred yards outside of my back door. (See my shadow waving?)
I live mere feet away from one of the greatest city parks ever.
The dork watching is especially fine.
I had the day off today. I wanted a day to recover from the fund drive at work, and it was parent-teacher conference day at The Boy's school, so I used a vacation day. I met C at the school at 7:30 (we took the early slot so he could get to work on time) and were informed by The Boy's advisor that he's sweet and charming, and CONSCIENTIOUS (that last bit was news to us). He's happy and popular and his interim grades (still a few weeks until the end of the trimester) are all As. You really can't ask for a better report than that.
I came home, woke up The Boy to tell him how wonderful he is, ate some delicious reheated pizza while watching Curious George on PBS (no idea why, aside from the fact that it was there), and then baked chocolate chip cookies and made a pot of soup. We spent the afternoon at my lovely park with a friend, her son, and another boy they go to school with. We would normally have left the boys to go to the park on their own, but it was so nice outside that we joined them and sat on a picnic table soaking up the sunshine.
There are few finer things than sitting in the sun while everyone else is at work.
Plus, there's this. This is about a hundred yards outside of my back door. (See my shadow waving?)
I live mere feet away from one of the greatest city parks ever.
The dork watching is especially fine.
I had the day off today. I wanted a day to recover from the fund drive at work, and it was parent-teacher conference day at The Boy's school, so I used a vacation day. I met C at the school at 7:30 (we took the early slot so he could get to work on time) and were informed by The Boy's advisor that he's sweet and charming, and CONSCIENTIOUS (that last bit was news to us). He's happy and popular and his interim grades (still a few weeks until the end of the trimester) are all As. You really can't ask for a better report than that.
I came home, woke up The Boy to tell him how wonderful he is, ate some delicious reheated pizza while watching Curious George on PBS (no idea why, aside from the fact that it was there), and then baked chocolate chip cookies and made a pot of soup. We spent the afternoon at my lovely park with a friend, her son, and another boy they go to school with. We would normally have left the boys to go to the park on their own, but it was so nice outside that we joined them and sat on a picnic table soaking up the sunshine.
There are few finer things than sitting in the sun while everyone else is at work.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Criminal Mastermind
The Cleveland Cavaliers played the Boston Celtics right here in our town last, and The Boy was thrilled because I gave my ticket to one of his friends and let them sort of go alone. I meant to take them to the arena and hang out in the food court with my book, my laptop, and my knitting, because I care nothing for the NBA. It happens, though, that I walked the boys right to their seats without a ticket of my own, and so found myself able to pretty much do whatever I wanted. I've never even TRIED to sneak into anything, and yet there I was. Moms should look into this: If we're with kids, it seems we might be able to get away with quite a bit.
Anyway, we went here:
I spent about fifteen minutes watching the game and having impure thoughts about this man:
And then I gave him up for this man:
I had my laptop with me, and the first season of Extras on DVD from the library. I pulled out my headphones and watched the first two episodes, laughing like a maniac the whole time. The first episode, with Kate Winslet giving advice on talking dirty and phone sex, was one of the funniest things I've ever seen, and makes me love Kate Winslet forever. Seriously. Look (NSFW):
Bloody brilliant!
Anyway, we went here:
I spent about fifteen minutes watching the game and having impure thoughts about this man:
And then I gave him up for this man:
I had my laptop with me, and the first season of Extras on DVD from the library. I pulled out my headphones and watched the first two episodes, laughing like a maniac the whole time. The first episode, with Kate Winslet giving advice on talking dirty and phone sex, was one of the funniest things I've ever seen, and makes me love Kate Winslet forever. Seriously. Look (NSFW):
Bloody brilliant!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Not Much to Report
Not much going on here, but I thought I'd check in anyway.
The Boy is finally pretty much over the plague that seems to be knocking his classmates down like Ten Little Indians. His cough is nearly gone, and he spent the last few nights sleeping like a log for 12+ hours. Finally! He's lost five pounds, which wouldn't even be noticeable on me, but which makes him look like a POW--I've made him promise to commit to shoving calories in his face at every opportunity. Ice cream before bed? Do you want chocolate syrup with that?
Other than that, there's little going on. Work has me in the middle of a fund drive, which makes for some busy times, but this is a mercifully short drive for us, so everyone remains rather un-frazzled.
I'm making some progress knitting my first sock. I misjudged my gauge, so it's going to be bigger than I'd planned, but I will be satisfied as long as it ends up looking like an actual sock--even if for a giant. Behold:
Also, like BB, I was hit hard by the suicide of David Foster Wallace, so much so that I realized I needed to do something about my ever-worsening panic attacks and the depression they inevitably bring. I'm not saying I'm ever suicidal, but the panic and anxiety that plague me limit my life in a way that, when I'm in the throes of it all, makes me wonder if the strained, sick, half-life is worth living. I'm back on my Zoloft and can now drive the car without tears or fears. I'm not quite back to "normal," but I'm on my way to being able to stand myself again, which is very, very good. So thanks again, DFW. You've contributed to my life yet again.
The Boy is finally pretty much over the plague that seems to be knocking his classmates down like Ten Little Indians. His cough is nearly gone, and he spent the last few nights sleeping like a log for 12+ hours. Finally! He's lost five pounds, which wouldn't even be noticeable on me, but which makes him look like a POW--I've made him promise to commit to shoving calories in his face at every opportunity. Ice cream before bed? Do you want chocolate syrup with that?
Other than that, there's little going on. Work has me in the middle of a fund drive, which makes for some busy times, but this is a mercifully short drive for us, so everyone remains rather un-frazzled.
I'm making some progress knitting my first sock. I misjudged my gauge, so it's going to be bigger than I'd planned, but I will be satisfied as long as it ends up looking like an actual sock--even if for a giant. Behold:
Also, like BB, I was hit hard by the suicide of David Foster Wallace, so much so that I realized I needed to do something about my ever-worsening panic attacks and the depression they inevitably bring. I'm not saying I'm ever suicidal, but the panic and anxiety that plague me limit my life in a way that, when I'm in the throes of it all, makes me wonder if the strained, sick, half-life is worth living. I'm back on my Zoloft and can now drive the car without tears or fears. I'm not quite back to "normal," but I'm on my way to being able to stand myself again, which is very, very good. So thanks again, DFW. You've contributed to my life yet again.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Fever All Through the Night
It has been a week of viral happenings at Chez Shirty, let me tell you. I got a call on my cell phone Monday morning at around 9:30, informing me that The Boy had barfed on the school bus just as his class was pulling into the parking lot of their field trip destination. I knew I shouldn’t have let him go to school, because he felt a little warm and didn’t look right in the morning, but he wanted to go so badly and kept insisting he felt fine . . . thankfully he didn’t barf on anyone. And he was sitting way in the front of the bus, so everyone else got to use the emergency exit in the back, which amused and excited him even in his compromised state.
I got him home and into clean pajamas and bed, where he slept for a little while and woke in a panic, thinking he’d slept through to the next day and missed Monday Night Football (even with a raging fever, The Boy has priorities). And boy, did the fever rage, up to about 103-degrees (not all that dreadful, I know, but anything over 102 makes me nervous). I spent the next several days doing the Advil/Tylenol tag team, wiping him down with cool wash cloths, reminding him to drink more water, coating him with Vicks to ease his cough, and generally fussing and fretting and babying him.
We watched the Weather Channel (which he finds soothing), read, listened to the classical radio station (he has a crush on his music teacher), watched Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (one of his favorite RiffTrax offerings) and Edward Scissorhands (do you know that I’d forgotten Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder were a couple?!?), and dozed. He’s never been sick for this long, and he absolutely never been so still for so ling.
He’s back at school today, finally, because the fever is gone, but he looks like a heroin addict. He has a soccer game after school in which he is not playing, and a dance tonight that I am betting he won’t feel like going to. In fact, I’ll be surprised if he makes it through the school day.
And how am I? Tired, lightly feverish, and utterly unable to eat. And I have a bonus breakout of pimples, the likes of which I haven’t seen since high school. My house is a disaster (not to mention filled with noxious germs), I have laundry piled to the ceiling, I’m out of library books and won’t be able to go until tomorrow at the earliest, and my knitting project isn’t working.
The end of this day—and this week—can’t come soon enough.
I got him home and into clean pajamas and bed, where he slept for a little while and woke in a panic, thinking he’d slept through to the next day and missed Monday Night Football (even with a raging fever, The Boy has priorities). And boy, did the fever rage, up to about 103-degrees (not all that dreadful, I know, but anything over 102 makes me nervous). I spent the next several days doing the Advil/Tylenol tag team, wiping him down with cool wash cloths, reminding him to drink more water, coating him with Vicks to ease his cough, and generally fussing and fretting and babying him.
We watched the Weather Channel (which he finds soothing), read, listened to the classical radio station (he has a crush on his music teacher), watched Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (one of his favorite RiffTrax offerings) and Edward Scissorhands (do you know that I’d forgotten Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder were a couple?!?), and dozed. He’s never been sick for this long, and he absolutely never been so still for so ling.
He’s back at school today, finally, because the fever is gone, but he looks like a heroin addict. He has a soccer game after school in which he is not playing, and a dance tonight that I am betting he won’t feel like going to. In fact, I’ll be surprised if he makes it through the school day.
And how am I? Tired, lightly feverish, and utterly unable to eat. And I have a bonus breakout of pimples, the likes of which I haven’t seen since high school. My house is a disaster (not to mention filled with noxious germs), I have laundry piled to the ceiling, I’m out of library books and won’t be able to go until tomorrow at the earliest, and my knitting project isn’t working.
The end of this day—and this week—can’t come soon enough.
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