Three day weekend. Whole day off.
7:00 AM Not awake. I'm not. I can sleep in, will sleep in, I am NOT AWAKE.
7:05 I mean it.
7:10 Fine. Am awake. But I'm in bed. See? Right here. Lying down. Eyes... open damn it. What is it with sun on days off?
7:11 Up. But am going to be grumpy with anyone I see for the next hour or so because I should be asleep since it's my day off.
7:12 Maybe I should wake up the kids so I can have someone to be grumpy at.
7:13 Are you insane??
7:15 Fine. But I'm not going to work. This is my day off. I can...
7:17 ...
7:18 Okay, but I'm working IN BED
8:00 No sound from the Recently Gainfully Employed Child who needs to go fill out paperwork. Child should be allowed to make its own mistakes.
8:01 WAKE UP CHILD!!
8:02 Oh. You had your alarm set. I knew that. Well, we're leaving in 45 minutes.
8:44 Hmmm... maybe I should get dressed...
9:00 Book store! And I'm being diligent and getting work done by researching! I'm so good.
9:05 Oooooh - art book....
10:00 Right, research, off I... ooooh! Other art book!
11:00 Oh. Child is done. Darn. I was just about to do all that research too.
11:15 Read to Children - their choice: Band of Brothers. Holland, France, Bastogne.
1:00 Work. Must work. Children far too entertaining and must be avoided. Retreat and firmly open laptop.
2:00 #$%$# CSS! Why is that div 2 pixels to the left of the div below? I should figure this out. I wonder what the Children are doing.
3:00 Two of the Children have abandoned me! Do they have no sense of their responsibilities? Must salve wounded feelings by poking Child 2 and making it yelp.
3:05 Child 2 very uncooperative. Laptop is singing forlornly in other room. Work.
5:30 Have resolved CSS! CSS is brilliant! I am brilliant!
6:00 Sudden cold feeling in stomach - have I any clean clothes at all for work tomorrow? Should maybe investigate hamper.
6:05 Why do Children feel laundry floor and inside and top of dryer are clothes storage areas? Think of caustic remarks for Children but realize some clothes are mine. Darn.
6:10 Very virtuous. Laundry done, CSS wrangled, Children looking intelligent and reasonably clothed and fed. Will not think about long list of small irritating changes that need making to that style sheet and all those graphics.
6:15 Must improve method of not thinking of things
6:20 OKAY will make small niggling changes but will also put on art commentary from film in background because IT'S MY DAY OFF
8:00 Take break to remind Children for 8th time of schedule for tomorrow.
9:00 Why do small niggling changes take so long?
9:30 Check small niggling changes in browsers.
9:35 @#$@#$ browser people! Why can't we all get along?
11:00 Browsers resolved. Mostly. Am brilliant. Browser people should be finely minced and fed to endangered carnivores thus accomplishing two things for the betterment of the world.
11:05 Ah... book? Read? Oh. Work tomorrow. Early.
Stupid day off.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Film Come to Life
"Obama in top secret search for running mate!"
"______'s top secret wedding! [complete with top secret posed picture and top secret interview"
"_______'s secret agony!"
You keep saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Inigo Montoya
"______'s top secret wedding! [complete with top secret posed picture and top secret interview"
"_______'s secret agony!"
You keep saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Inigo Montoya
Friday, May 16, 2008
Commencing
I like that we use "commencement" when we talk about graduation from high school. I like that it's more about beginning than ending.
There were over 460 seniors in Child 1's class this year. Over 460 red gowns and red mortar boards dutifully trailed down the steep concrete sides of the huge college gym (many of the girls managing it in teetery high heels which I found most impressive). Over 460 of them sat patiently and listened to speeches and songs, really only wanting to walk through that line, hold on to that small, red folder and be told they could move their tassels from left to right.
Only one of them was Child 1.
The child who isn't a child any more. The cautious, careful, concerned child who has become a confident, beautiful, talented adult.
Whom I am infinitely proud of.
Who has been patient all year with being an "it," but who asked me to share this with you, who have read and emailed and commented.
This is Child 1.
And she is beginning something wonderful.
There were over 460 seniors in Child 1's class this year. Over 460 red gowns and red mortar boards dutifully trailed down the steep concrete sides of the huge college gym (many of the girls managing it in teetery high heels which I found most impressive). Over 460 of them sat patiently and listened to speeches and songs, really only wanting to walk through that line, hold on to that small, red folder and be told they could move their tassels from left to right.
Only one of them was Child 1.
The child who isn't a child any more. The cautious, careful, concerned child who has become a confident, beautiful, talented adult.
Whom I am infinitely proud of.
Who has been patient all year with being an "it," but who asked me to share this with you, who have read and emailed and commented.
This is Child 1.
And she is beginning something wonderful.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Me Day
Kirk knew I was a little grim about mother's day. I didn't want flowers, I didn't want to be taken out for brunch and I didn't want a store-bought card celebrating the fact that I had successfully bred. I did accept the various candle holders/flower pots/pencil jars that inevitably wandered home from school around this time of year, but that was because my Children are School Craft Geniuses and I am an art lover.
So one year Kirk came up with his solution to the problem. Mother's day we would loftily ignore as per my request. However the day AFTER that he declared to be My Name Day, a day totally unrelated to fruitful loins or successful lack of infanticide. A day on which he could take me out to dinner without hearing me snark about Hallmark holidays. A day he could give me a gift just. for. me.
The very first year he presented me with a circular saw proving just how well he knew me.
There hasn't really been much attention payed around these parts to mother's days or My Name Days. It's hard to really feel festive when you're the one who has to do the planning and the shopping. However, this year I did it. I went out and bought the super wonderful, lots of button bearing, two lens including Box Of Camera Delightfulness that I have been lusting after for lo these many years.
Happy Me Day.
God knows we all need it.
So one year Kirk came up with his solution to the problem. Mother's day we would loftily ignore as per my request. However the day AFTER that he declared to be My Name Day, a day totally unrelated to fruitful loins or successful lack of infanticide. A day on which he could take me out to dinner without hearing me snark about Hallmark holidays. A day he could give me a gift just. for. me.
The very first year he presented me with a circular saw proving just how well he knew me.
There hasn't really been much attention payed around these parts to mother's days or My Name Days. It's hard to really feel festive when you're the one who has to do the planning and the shopping. However, this year I did it. I went out and bought the super wonderful, lots of button bearing, two lens including Box Of Camera Delightfulness that I have been lusting after for lo these many years.
Happy Me Day.
God knows we all need it.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Promises, promises
So the minute I claim I'm going to get organized and sort things out and make all neat and tidy I... well stop blogging for a couple of days and try to pretend doing so will somehow make it all do itself.
See the trouble is I need
A) the blog for Kirk, which must then be extracted from the rest of the content, neatly packaged, spit shined a little and possibly given appropriate tags and things so those lovely souls who email me wanting to know how they can just read the fricken' story already can actually read the fricken' story.*
B) the family blog, which needs its own space so it can stretch out a little and not be crowded with all the other stuff, and also probably wants tidy little labels as well because families can just be so demanding, and
C) a dream blog that my delightful relatives don't know about (love you kids! Love you Mom!) because I keep having these deep dark impulses to write about bikini waxes and things and there are some things my family should not know. Or there are things I should not know my family knows. Or something.
Which means that I contemplate all of this and then get the totally undeserved feeling that I've now done something about it! Tra-la - effort made folks and now back to the bon-bons please.
So.
Just to say, you might not see those changes, like soon or anything. But you will see them.
I promise.
*note, I don't normally say fricken' but like I said, my Mom reads this blog and she doesn't know I know those words. Plus my kids read it and they DEFINITELY don't know those words. Particularly since I never, ever use them in their presence. Especially when driving. Ever. Right kids?
See the trouble is I need
A) the blog for Kirk, which must then be extracted from the rest of the content, neatly packaged, spit shined a little and possibly given appropriate tags and things so those lovely souls who email me wanting to know how they can just read the fricken' story already can actually read the fricken' story.*
B) the family blog, which needs its own space so it can stretch out a little and not be crowded with all the other stuff, and also probably wants tidy little labels as well because families can just be so demanding, and
C) a dream blog that my delightful relatives don't know about (love you kids! Love you Mom!) because I keep having these deep dark impulses to write about bikini waxes and things and there are some things my family should not know. Or there are things I should not know my family knows. Or something.
Which means that I contemplate all of this and then get the totally undeserved feeling that I've now done something about it! Tra-la - effort made folks and now back to the bon-bons please.
So.
Just to say, you might not see those changes, like soon or anything. But you will see them.
I promise.
*note, I don't normally say fricken' but like I said, my Mom reads this blog and she doesn't know I know those words. Plus my kids read it and they DEFINITELY don't know those words. Particularly since I never, ever use them in their presence. Especially when driving. Ever. Right kids?
Friday, May 02, 2008
Susie Dow - New Article
Susie Dow, who blogs about Kirk and Ryan Manelick at MissingMan has written another article for ePluribus Media about her theory on Kirk's disappearance. You can read the full article here.
Also, there will probably be some changes 'round these parts soon. I started this blog simply to write Kirk's story but, obviously, family life and personal things crept in. Things are a little confusing as I whiz from stories about the Second Coming of John the Baptist as announced by placard to serious stuff about missing persons, about Iraq and about Kirk.
So, I think it might be time to divide things out a little. I'm not sure exactly what form that will take, but rest assured I'll let you all know what's going on so you can find what you're looking for (and ignore the rest).
Also, there will probably be some changes 'round these parts soon. I started this blog simply to write Kirk's story but, obviously, family life and personal things crept in. Things are a little confusing as I whiz from stories about the Second Coming of John the Baptist as announced by placard to serious stuff about missing persons, about Iraq and about Kirk.
So, I think it might be time to divide things out a little. I'm not sure exactly what form that will take, but rest assured I'll let you all know what's going on so you can find what you're looking for (and ignore the rest).
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Superhero
The male child has a super power.
Well, it has several along the lines of Constant and Irritating Noise and Eating By Means of Total Devastation of All Foodstuffs and things like that but most males its age have those. No, it has a special super power, one it has always had. It is a pedant.
Like: PEDant Man! (musical theme riff, spiffy costume of orange tights with "P" emblazoned on chest).
I used to say he acted in support of pedantism to which Kirk would reply, "that's pedantry I think." Gee, I wonder where Male Child got it?
However it is an ism with this Child. It's a full-on, emotionally charged belief system. That belief system goes something like: Things Should Be Correct! And I Know What Is Correct.
It even has a catch phrase. It goes, "Well, but actually..."
There are a couple of minor problems with this.
First, the Male Child, while totally convinced of its own erudition and wisdom is, dare I say it, not always right.
Second, even in total and complete ignorance the Male Child is happy to state absolutely and with assurance that Thus Is So.
Fortunately it (whom we often refer to as Pedanto) is also happy to learn the real truth (as opposed to The Definitively But Ignorantly Stated "Truth") even if it does take bar charts, PowerPoint presentations and judicious application of hefty blunt objects to get the point across.
Pedanto, a few things I would really like you to learn:
A. Concussed persons should not climb. Nor should they spin things. Nor should they bounce on the furniture.
B. When the mother of the concussed person tells it to eat something very simple first to see if it is going to throw up, the concussed person should not wolf down a cinnamon-raisin bagel while waiting for said simple food to heat up. This, oddly enough, defeats the purpose.
C. If a person has been recently, if mildly, concussed, it should make an effort not to run into anything with its head for a few days.
And finally, well loved Male Child of mine, when reading over this simple list a sensible person desiring of continuing in reasonable, if slightly concussed, health should not turn to it's mother and say, "Well, but actually..."
Well, it has several along the lines of Constant and Irritating Noise and Eating By Means of Total Devastation of All Foodstuffs and things like that but most males its age have those. No, it has a special super power, one it has always had. It is a pedant.
Like: PEDant Man! (musical theme riff, spiffy costume of orange tights with "P" emblazoned on chest).
I used to say he acted in support of pedantism to which Kirk would reply, "that's pedantry I think." Gee, I wonder where Male Child got it?
However it is an ism with this Child. It's a full-on, emotionally charged belief system. That belief system goes something like: Things Should Be Correct! And I Know What Is Correct.
It even has a catch phrase. It goes, "Well, but actually..."
There are a couple of minor problems with this.
First, the Male Child, while totally convinced of its own erudition and wisdom is, dare I say it, not always right.
Second, even in total and complete ignorance the Male Child is happy to state absolutely and with assurance that Thus Is So.
Fortunately it (whom we often refer to as Pedanto) is also happy to learn the real truth (as opposed to The Definitively But Ignorantly Stated "Truth") even if it does take bar charts, PowerPoint presentations and judicious application of hefty blunt objects to get the point across.
Pedanto, a few things I would really like you to learn:
A. Concussed persons should not climb. Nor should they spin things. Nor should they bounce on the furniture.
B. When the mother of the concussed person tells it to eat something very simple first to see if it is going to throw up, the concussed person should not wolf down a cinnamon-raisin bagel while waiting for said simple food to heat up. This, oddly enough, defeats the purpose.
C. If a person has been recently, if mildly, concussed, it should make an effort not to run into anything with its head for a few days.
And finally, well loved Male Child of mine, when reading over this simple list a sensible person desiring of continuing in reasonable, if slightly concussed, health should not turn to it's mother and say, "Well, but actually..."
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