I Promise For Real This Time...

I have been saying that there are more posts coming and have alluded to them all over the place. So, where are they?

They're coming.

I don't want to make you sit there and think "Oh great, we sit around and wait for posts that she promises and for all we know the only thing up and coming is a post about her love for walnuts (I like to open the shell with an old school metal nutcracker and try and figure out why I bother digging the meat out when I can buy it shelled- but I enjoy the zen of the process) or why her kids are the bestest and funniest (they are though of course) or how the middle American states are a Republican party ruse meant to garner more electoral college votes but they don't actually exist (this one my older sister came up with in high school and for a while seemed kind of believable, until I had to fly to Kansas City, Missouri- they do exist, Republican or otherwise)."
Is that what you were thinking?

Well- I feel it is only fair that I share with you what some of my forthcoming posts are regarding:
My awesome organic heirloom tomato and fresh picked apple salsa recipe.
Mini-golf.
The trickery of town recycling (I know- you can hardly contain the excitement!)
My (once again awesome) zucchini blueberry bread recipe.
The search for a good primary care doctor in one of the greatest medical communities in the U.S.
How to sew a tutu on the fly.
Good reasons not to tempt fate by saying "My child hasn't really talked about god yet..."
The dangers of apple picking without proper safety equipment.
How to beat Martha Stewart in a centerpiece fight.

Now, not all of these are done so hold your horses. Some are but I haven't attached the pictures so I haven't posted them yet. And of course I will continue to blog without advanced notice, preparation or use of protractors and graphing calculators. I just wanted to put it in writing that I am indeed working on posting more and have a thing or two to say about a thing or two (I like to say that). So consider myself pledged unto thee as a true and faithful blogger to the best of my abilities and at least for the next month. I'm only making promises one month at a time. I'm crazy but not crazy enough to plan that far ahead.

After all- come November, I could be in Missouri cracking walnuts old school and swapping kid pageant pictures and report cards with the head of the GOP.

Here is a picture of me that is badly in need of
photoshop (sleep much?) that
seals unto you my promise to be a better, more faithful blogger.

Words by the Page

I have collected dictionaries since I was is high school. To say I am selective is surely an understatement as my collection is probably less than 25 strong and I started it nearly 15 years ago. I like my dictionaries to be old, thorough, filled with words people have forgotten and I adore it beyond belief when there is any sort of inscription or notation anywhere within the pages. This is how I got the most recent one and the best yet.

When my grandfather passed away on February of 2008 he left a houseful of things both amazing and ridiculous. Historically vital and 2 for 1 at the dollar store. He came from a very important, smart and well educated family but also a frugal one. In his later years he (and my most beautiful grandmother before she died in September 1999) spent a bit too much time looking for diamonds at the church fair and packing them away for a rainy day.

On one of my visits home after his death my sisters and I did a sort of looters ceremonial walk-through of the house. There was no will specific enough to give any one of us the Go Bang set, wedding china or telescope we used to watch the lobster boats go in and out with the tides. My mother and her two siblings decided we would get low-tack stickers with our initials to apply to any items we may want when the estate. as it is/was/were... settled. Two or more stickers on an item and we would have to figure it out later amongst ourselves. All of these selections were provisional of course on my mother, aunt or uncle not selecting one of the items for themselves.

There wasn't a ton of stuff I wanted until we were about ready to leave. Walking through the downstairs library I spotted the two-volume, magnifying-glass-included, Oxford English Dictionary sitting happily but a bit lonely on a shelf. Even the Compact Edition of this gem is bigger than my head. And oh, the deep, professorial blue tone with delicate gold lettering. Ahhh. I looked around furtively like a thief. I felt a guilty for no reason. I said a silent prayer (which my grandfather the preacher, would have appreciated) that my grandfather wanted me to have the OED. It was right there. I love dictionaries. My god- the best one in my collection is an inscribed by a stranger, 1947 edition dictionary bound in packing tape that he, himself sent me off to college with. Silly, adorable old man.

I stuck my little sticker on it.

After mentioning to my mother that I wanted the OED she seemed doubtful. Apparently my uncle also wanted it- although only to replace the magnifying glass in his edition. And to boot my younger cousin who is my grandfather's namesake also wanted it.

I have it. I love it. I dust it. I wish I could carry it around in a little pouch like people do toy poodles. Maybe frame it. I wish I had more words to look up. I find myself trying to come up with words I don't know the meaning of just so I can look for them in its damp and inky pages. Did I mention I love it? And I have it.

Did I also mention that I live in a two-family house and that our half has only two bedrooms and a sun room/office. The dictionary does look rather handsome in the window seat next to the Peace Lily but then no one can see it. I can put it on the floor but come now, it is the Oxford English Dictionary, Compact Edition, Two Volumes with Case and Magnifying Glass. It doesn't fit on the mantle and our bookshelves are too packed.

Would it be going to far to use it as a pillow? I could see going to bed surrounded by the comfort of warm words and cool pages. Mmmmm. Sleepy words would be especially good.

Don't Go in the Water

In a previous post I mentioned our beloved quasi-pets PJTruck and Humavark. They are African Dwarf Frogs who live in what is touted to be a mostly self-sufficient environment that costs less the $25. Nice. There is rectangular plastic tank that goes on a (available for additional purchase by suckers like me) pedestal thingy so are therefor very fancy and worthy of display. Inside are supposedly very special gravel rocks that have self-filtering properties. There is lucky bamboo, a pretty rock and you only have to change the water twice a year. Again- nice. And of course there are the frogs.
Oh wait- I didn't mention the most important thing. The two EMPTY snail shells lying at the bottom as if waiting for evidence tags. I smell murder most foul.
The frog habitat came with one freshwater snail with the super important job of head janitor. He/she had a name but being a Bad Mommy I have forgotten it. A few weeks, maybe a month and a half after we brought our water loving friends home the snail was found floating. Snails don't float where there isn't a current. We gave it a day or two to try and figure out what was going on and in that time it appeared the snail was "retreating" into its shell. I now have a different theory. Anyway it was clearly dead.
Not a problem. We are modern parents. We told the kids. They got it. It was kind of sad but not requiring of a shoebox kind of sad. Paper towels and a baggie into the kitchen trash was fine. Rest in peace and look out for the incoming apple peels.
I went to the company site for the froggy sellers and as it happens they could explain the dead snail. So I wasn't too worried at that point. The company also sold replacement snails that could be shippped right to your door. Fossil fuels be damned! I do like a nice package delivery and if ot comes with as sweet little gastropod mollusc and makes my kids happy too- awesome. I will gladly buy the carbon credits to off set the shipping.
A few days later not one but two delightful snails arrived in a bubble wrapped baggie of water labeled "SNAIL X 1." Math skills aside we were pleased and introduced the little ones to the frogs. We thought it best not to name them.
Good choice because less than one week later they were DEAD.
I cannot be responsible for theses deaths. We followed the directions to the colloquial "T." We never aggravated the snails or frogs with tapping or late night phone calls, requests for money or a ride to the airport. I didn't let anyone make wishes on dropping pennies into the tank- we always kept the ventilated lid on.

The best that I can come up with is that although these teeny frogs are supposed to be very content and have even earned the nickname "Zen Frogs" for the way the float peacefully- their captivity has hardened them. Maybe it wasn't both of them who did the deed most foul. Maybe one of them came from the wrong side of town or had been through the tank business before. Maybe the two of them are just trying to send us a message. Attica. Attica. Maybe they are segregationalists. That would be awful to think I was harboring frogs of that ilk. No matter what I honestly beleive the frogs my kids love to watch jump and swim and spent hours perfecting the names for are actually snail killers and what is almost worse- snail eaters. There is not a trace of snail body to be found.
No body- no murder?
We have not sent in another snail. The frogs seem restless but I cannot sentence another snail to what seems like certain death. We continue to treat them as though they are the same frogs we knew in the first blissful weeks of our relationship and maybe one day they will be ready for us to put pretend snails on Popsicle sticks and move them around the outside of the tank. Rehabilitation will be slow but PJTruck and Humavark just might turn back into model frog habitat citizens again. For the children, I really hope they do. Frogs would need a shoebox.
On a brighter note- supposing you don't get a batch of killers- these little guys are wicked cute and would make a neat-o executive desk accessory or gift for someone who you know is completely incapable of caring for an actually needy pet. Maybe get a spare tank filled with extra snails though. Just in case.

Show and Tell Day

I'm not going to show the pictures so don't worry.

I am just setting to keyboard what once would be set to pen that I don't know yet where the line is. I don't know what I want to share and what is only mine. Who do I know is reading? Who will secretly read? Am I seriously convinced I am that important?

I haven't read any Blogging for Dummies type thing and trust me, have NO intentions of doing so. But I wish there was a Big Brother Big Sister program that matched you up based on your life and what you like to talk about and then they help you decide if you are going to bring your new puppy to show and tell or the map to the old puppy's grave. Geez that sounds creepy. See- I'm not actually that creepy. I don't think.

There is almost a need for a person to have one blog for everything they have done, do or will do. Mommy, wife, work, hobbies, medical history, civil war re-en-actor, conspiracy theorist, writer, gamseshow contestant, pie lover, gambling adddict- whatever your category is.

I barely know my categories and I still need to figure out my audience. Hello audience. It's me. How are you? How is all this working out for you? Want more milk and cookies or do you prefer gin and tonics?

Egads but don't this just beat all. Well today for show and tell I am bringing me, my blog as it stands and my willingness to push myself farther. Onward and upward, forward march, small steps for mankind and all that tripe. Enough of the New Year's resolutions in July, I have crazy-ing to do and make. Here is a picture of my little man so he doesn't feel left out after all the pictures of his sister. Enjoy.

It was preschool graduation. Hence the overalls. They are de rigeur for all graduations these days.

Open up and say ahhhhhhhh....

I had an endoscopy yesterday and they let me take home pictures. Hehehehehe. Ewwww. I know I shouldn't share and I totally won't and I'm not even going to go into the topic right now because I'm tired but I kind of want to show you.

Don't you kind of want to see?

No? Okay, so admittedly once I saw them there was a pang of regret for having asked but the chance to say "Hey Doc- can I get a copy of the shot of my esophagus?" is pretty rare. I promise I won't share.

I was just bursting at the seams with the knowledge that I have the pictures and I needed to put it out there. Okay- no more sharing.

Now onto your day and enjoy your lunch.

Birthdays Gone-by

Since I have already posted about my anniversary coming and going without a parade I wanted to mention that my baby sister had her 30th birthday just the other day. That means she is O-L-D! Okay so if she is my baby sister I guess I am also old. But I am only 2 years older- 21 months actually. I am pretty much younger than she is.

She got to spend her birthday in Maine in spite of having abandoned the majestic and generally free of major earthquakes East Coast for Seattle and then Portland, OR 6ish years ago. I think she had a good day from what she described. Still she probably missed being on the "other side" with her friends who would have celebrated in a style more fitting than my mom can muster.

I haven't sent her a gift yet. Originally it was because she was in Maine and had a mail stop on her Oregon address so I figured I would wait. Then I thought I would be enviro-me and not send something via jumbo shipping company vehicle but find a local merchant to purchase from in Portland and have it delivered locally. Then I got sleepy and took a nap after supper. Then I woke up and watched Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Then I decided enviro-me would really rather send an e-card with an e-gift certificate.

Surprise! Then I fell asleep. I think I went to the Farmer's Market. I know I went to Starbucks. Later I thought about sending her some of the jam I canned but that went back to the fuel-sucking shipping company thing again so I decided no. Wait but now it gets good- I have totally neglected to get her a damn thing.

I could try and pass this off as being enviro-me and smaller-footprint me. Or it could be hey-my-husband-works-for-a-non-profit-where-they-made-massive-cut-backs me. Or it could be schmucky-sister me. I think I have to fess up and admit to option three. It may have started one way but after all the naps and tv and outings and the days that have passed and the fact that she is now back home with no mail stop... well... I just have to lay it out and say I blew it.

So my dear peepsio sister, if you are reading this- hi. I love you. Isn't love enough? How's about I said you a smnabddkgkfndsglybu via onlinupsfedbikemesenpostal ? I know you've always wanted one. It'll be there for sure by... oh geez- I would say I heard Mom calling me but in order to update that I will say I hear the kids stepping on rusty nails outside. I really ought to get to that. But I'll be in touch super soon. Honest.

Yeah. I blew the 30th birthday thing for her. Good thing is, I remembered to call and there is still the 40th birthday to totally not screw up. Better write that down though.

I and Screamy

My daughter has made friends with some newcomers to the neighborhood. I can't see them and they are according to her "the size of a pea." Their names are I and Screamy. I'm trying really hard not to read into that. She has had imaginary friends for a little bit now- ever since my physical health issues amped up the interference with our daily lives. Not so much the Mommy-on-the-floor or couch again but the Mommy-missing-dinner or Mommy-missing-library because of appointments. She is no dummy. I am gone a lot.

In some ways you would think this would be awesome because of all the extra time with dear old Dad or Grammie and Zadie but apparently parents are not interchangeable. So enter stage left her new friends. I think the first was Lomaid. Then Lateet. Yeah- that one makes me giggle too. Especially when for a little while she decided it was Daddy's new nickname. Nothing shrieks of masculinity like being called "La-Teet." I am spelling it in a generous way but I really want to spell it the other way because it is much funnier.

Now we have I and Screamy and a host of others who come and ago. They have names like Kapoofaca and such. I don't really understand but I am not 3 1/2. As background I should mention that after much deliberation and list making the wee children decided to name our two African Dwarf frogs "PJ Truck" and "Humavark." Again- I am not 3 or 5 so what do I know about names.

Other than the frogs we are expected to be very respectful of her friends at all times, taking them places, holding the door for them, making room at the table etc. Mind you- they are the size of a pea. She talks to them and being proper imaginary friends they talk back to her. Most of their talks seem quite serious but she assures me they are very funny and tell good jokes. My son has no imaginary friends of his own but he interacts regularly with Screamy and the gang. I think he likes to stick to the tangible when he can.

My brother-in-law is a pediatric neuropsychologist and I routinely beg for free advice like "is my kid crazy because she's afraid of spiders?" or "do you think he reads too much and therefore has a disorder that we are making worse by letting him go to the library?" It is even rumoured that on one ocassion I may have asked why if my IQ was what it was I couldn't speak 7 languages or solve complex physics equations and the like. If you choose to believe the rumour then the answer may have been a suggestion that perhaps I lacked motivation and follow-through which would explain MANY MANY things including all the classes I dropped out of in school mid-semester... Anyway- he is confident my daughter is just fine. But in the middle of saying that he did have to stop and consult with a six-foot tall rabbit.

It is of no surprise that my little lass came up with her peepsios when she did. Developmentally she is right on the money, her imagination has started to race ahead of her and she can rip a yarn like no one's business, Do people say that? Rip a yarn? What the hell does that mean? Is that a real saying? Maybe I should check my imagination or get a dictionary of antiquated slang that only people like me find use for. I wonder if there is one. Hmmm. Hello eBay.

Oh yes- the arrival of my little girl's friends also coincides with changes in the household as I mentioned above and what I believe is her new understanding that in the fall my son will start kindergarten and she will not. He was in preschool last year but we had lunch together, dropped him off, she took a nap and then we picked him up. I don't think she missed him that much. Loves him buckets but missed him in her sleep- not so much. But now she knows he'll be gone all day and she'll be stuck with Mommy all day who may be Art Project Mommy, Sick Mommy, Park or Museum Mommy, Appointment Mommy or just Crap There Isn't Any Damn Diet Dr. Pepper Mommy. It's all me. I am fortunate to be a singularly minded crazy person but that doesn't mean that for a 3 year old you might find comfort in numbers. Even imaginary, oddly named, miniature friend numbers.

Lastly- because it I have been awake for too long today and I can't vouch for the cohesiveness of this post I want to mention that she often has to chase her friends around the house for extended periods of time calling after them quite loudly. They sometimes get caught and put in time out. In case someone who reads this ever witnesses an event like that in my home- I want to set the record straight that we generally don't chase the kids into captivity. We barely even use time out. Why use time out when we can just ask Lateet to have a sit-down talk to hash things out and clear the air. Parenting by imaginary friend proxy. I think I read about it in a Dr. Sears book...?...

The Only Doctor For Me

I truly do not like my doctor. That is my primary care doctor. But I am tethered to her by a million strings that are all knotted up like a 16 year-old's stomach on prom night. Yes I will find a new one. No really, for sure this time, I swear it. Honestly. This is the last straw. See my back- I'm the camel and it just broke.

Damn- I just called myself a camel.

Truthfully, I am not going to find a new doctor right now because of all those invisible strings. I have to get them untangled and then untied and then I can move on. But geez Louise! When did medical care get so complicated? What happened to the good old days of Dr. Saffer with his creepy clip-on koala attached to his stethoscope and the little glass finger pricker blood taking thingies? I'd even go back to the therapist in high school who always offered me coffee even though I was 15 or so. I always refused until finally I gave in and she got me hooked while she sat cross legged in her hippie skirts with her too-long-for-her-age hair and looked dopey. Although actually- I kind of should be looking at that fondly because I do really, really like coffee.

Anyway- you would think that living just a short ride from Boston I could get the best medical team I wanted but as it turns out- they all gave up and turned to research or teaching. You have to do everything piecemeal. A doctor here, a doctor from over there, ooh- I'll take the specialist in the sporty red tie... It is exhausting.

Of course it is clear from this that I have the need of a medicine man or woman, shaman or voodoo priestess or maybe 10. So that must mean I have a bit of a headache, or a tummy ache, or a slight tickle when I cough. Let's run with those concerns and leave the others out of it for now. So I guess I must be a bit tuckered as is. Which leads me to think I might not have a bucket of time and energy for calling doctors, looking for people who also have tummy aches who might have good docs, calling the insurance company, doing interviews and then picking up and moving from one medical trailer park to another. Damn.

Thus I am deciding that I will search for only one doctor and although he remains somewhat elusive, he is often seen at the local drugstore/pharmacy so I might be able to get a hold of him. I actually only assume it is a him. But he is my friend, my go-to-guy, my pick-me-up and brush me off, my kick in the pants and my Calgon take me away all in one.

Yes- as you may have guessed I am speaking of the highly praised, sweet and effervescent,

Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper.
mmmmm

There is of course his precursor regular Diet Dr. Pepper, but my allegiance has been sworn (although Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper would have been my first choice but he seems to have been placed into witness protection as their is no sign of him in the area... I yearn... ) and though my doctor is often unavailable when I need him mostly due to a plot against me by the local grocery stores- I know that the drugstore will get my back most of the time.

Still- he doesn't do lab tests and I am pretty sure I can't trust him to accurately assess liver function test results. But he has yet to be an ass to me . I'll see how small they make stethoscopes.

You may have guessed I have had a few too many Diet Cherry Dr. Peppers by now. Imagine if I drank what my posts would read like...