martinimade

Wow. This is SO NOT me. Folks who actually know me are reading this result and choking on their morning beverages. Wow.

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I had really hoped for a snow day today. Granted, we didn't get nearly enough snow to even make the Powers That Be consider closing the college, but I just had a feeling it would be one of those days.

To begin, The Diva and I had an epic wrestling match this morning as I tried to get her coat on her. What distracted her long enough was a fire truck passing by the house. Which, as it turns out, was heading up to her school/day care. There was a gas leak in the area, which is always a comfort, especially since emergency personnel had also blocked off the end of our street, because they just couldn't figure out where the leak was.

Then I got back home, only to find that we didn't have the day's newspaper. And, for the record, we hadn't gotten on the previous day. So I called, only to be informed that we'd been cancelled because we hadn't paid our bills. It gets much more complicated than that, of course, and involves a carrier who never collected and an antiquated billing system that actually resides at the paper's home office in Massachusetts. The end result is that I just paid the damn back balance, even though I still don't understand where it came from, and will have to write a letter to the Circulation people once they send me their copy of their records.

As I'm on the phone with them, Scott is dashing about the backyard looking for the *only* ignition key to his truck. The was a wacky incident involving a bucket of road salt and his keyring, which seems to have resulted in said ignition key dropping into our backyard. Somewhere. Under the foot of snow, most likely. We should have it back by the thaw. In the meantime, well, does anyone know how to hotwire a truck?

I finally gave up on getting anything useful done and turned on the tv, only to hear Dubya nattering on about liberating Iraq. When will it end?

I did, however, hear this joke:
Q: How many Bush Administration officials does it take to screw in a light
bulb?

A: None. There is nothing wrong with the light bulb; its conditions are
improving every day.  Any reports of its lack of incandescence are a
delusional spin from the liberal media.  That light bulb has served
honorably, and anything you say undermines the lighting effect.  
Why do you hate freedom?

So there's a wee laugh, if nothing else.

Sad thing is -- it's only 10:30 and I still have to leave the house to go teach. Wish me luck.

The Diva is now a big singer, with the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" being among her favorite songs. This is not strange, really, or even very interesting. What is interesting is that she sounds exactly like Bob Dylan, if he were to sing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider." Same strange spoken/singing style. Same odd inflection on words. All is a slightly higher-pitched voice.

Also, she seems to think she's a puppy. Crawls around on all fours, pants, scratches at the door, chases the cats and wants to be taken for walks. The clincher, of course, is that she insists we call her "puppy." For a while, she did everything but bark, which led us to assume that she was a Basenji pup. But the barking has started as well, so now we are uncertain of her breed.

What would tie this whole thing together is if we were a) big Dylan fans or b) had a dog. But a) we dont' even own any Dylan and B) we have two cats. Kids are weird.

Not that it wasn't bad enough that this is the weekend where everything just seemed to go slightly awry (two missed birthday parties, one kid in tears, one car stuck in snow and one furnace that wouldn't fire), the Steelers lost. And, just to plop a tiny cherry on top, the cats decided to eat my baby pomegranate plants, which I had managed to nurse to a spindly toddlerhood. It was like someone had run over the pot with a tiny lawnmower. Fucking cats.

And to top that off, I also missed National Pie Day. When will the irritations end?

I am also developing a twitch in my left eyelid. I blame the cats. Fucking cats.

Laura -- the one with the green boogers -- wants to know:

Remind me, what are the five things that make it worthwhile to get up in the morning and go to work, no matter what the weather? (Aside from getting paid, of course.)

Um, well, my whole work thing is less than normal. Apart from teaching MWF afternoons, which I go do because a) I do (mostly) enjoy it and b) I signed a contract saying I would, I'm usually working from home. My "co-workers" are two cats, who spend the day sleeping, and, occasionally, the Hub, who will come home for lunch.

Which isn't to say that I don't have to get up in the morning. There is a 2.5 year old who needs to be dressed and taken to day care. Yes, it is a luxury and, yes, I know how lucky I am that a) we can afford it (barely) and b) she loves it. And there is structure to my day -- after I drop her off, I spend the morning writing and not thinking about how very close the deadline is. Afternoons are either for teaching or researching or grading or some combination thereof. This working life means that our finances are always tight, but the Hub has a "real" job with benefits, so I'm able to do this for now.

Of course, if the wee one gets sick or the weather gets just too sucky to leave the house, I am parent on-deck. And I do take care of a fair bit of the household stuff, like cooking and groceries and laundry. But these are all things that I can do while also doing work.

This only works, I think, because that whole Protestant work ethic thing has been so deeply ingrained that the guilt of not accomplishing things makes me batty. Right now, if I don't write at least 1000 words a day, I can't quite sleep or relax. It's a sickness. And the sad thing is, I don't especially like the process of writing. But man, o man, I love having written.

Anyway, top five reasons why I get out of bed:
1. Because I had a kid and kids don't have snooze buttons.
2. Because I usually have to pee.
3. Because there are Lucky Charms* waiting for me.
4. Because I want to see what happens next.
5. Because I have things to do, or all will be chaos.

*This used to be coffee. Once Kid #2 makes his/her arrival, make the substitution.

Other Fivers from the left list crawl out of bed to make their own lists...

Great piece on Salon about, um, editing porn. Wtch the ad. Think about hyphens.

Stolen from Bookslut.

Goodbye Jonathan and Victoria. Don't let the door hit you on the way out. And, no, we won't miss your verbal abuse and shrill whines.

Always wanted to make a statement about your (or the women you love) reproductive rights? Always wanted to learn how to knit? Now's your chance to do both with Wombs on Washington. Looks like they're still in the planning stages but, man, what an idea.

The original womb pattern is from knitty.com and a pattern FAQ is here.

The FAQ includes this tidbit...
8. The lack of ovaries: The pattern does list beads for supplies, but there aren't any in the photos and it's not mentioned in the finishing instructions. I'm still shopping for ovaries with my Womb, who is probably going to have a whole wardrobe of them. The bead store has some interesting options. Proportionally, the ovaries should be a little wider than the fimbria (the fringe around the ends of the fallopian tubes). I recommend going with the ovaries your Womb prefers - if she wants Swarovski crystals, give them to her. Pearls? Nothing is too good for your womb. Diamonds? I'll draw a line and ask your Womb to choose faux or antique. Gemstones and diamonds in particular are a bloody in a bad way business these days.
...which amuses me more than you can imagine.

Come on. You know you want to make one, if only to hurl it at a reactionary Republican.

New Austinmama column, this one about toilets.

In other news, it is cold as the proverbial witch's tit. I guess. It's hard to know the average temperature of your average witch. Do they tend to be colder than non-witches? I mean, I suspect that, say, Martha Stewart, is pretty chilly in the chest region, but she also isn't technically a witch.

Anyway. It's cold. In the last three hours, it has dropped 5 degrees, to 23 (F, not C). By this evening, it should be in single digits. By tonight, negative numbers. Fortuntalely, the Austrailan Open is on, so I am currently being reminded how much I hate summer. Being cold is sooooo much better than being too warm. With cold, I can always toss on another layer (current count: 3). With hot, you just run out of things to take off.