Dear Internet,

I’m on a mission. It’s political. It’s messy. It possibly involves the purchase of two or three large inflatable toys. I cannot discuss it here, for reasons of neighborhood and possibly national security, but if you live in Portland, Ore., and are a musician, artist, gardener, or just a person who wants to get involved, e me and we’ll talk.

Vague enough? Intriguing enough? Also I think I’m going to need help from both the No War Drum Corps and the Nation of Islam on this one.

Ciao,

WM

PS — How about some recipes? With all this political organizing, we have little time for cooking around here. Thus, three fast ones…

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If you’re wondering where I am today, read this. It’s from April 26, 2005, but it’s still the same old shit. Don’t be a Bad Samaritan.

More tomorrow.

Yours as always,

WM

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My kids have attended school eight out of the last 31 days. Eight. No wonder I can’t get their lazy little behinds out of bed.

The missed days have been because of snow, threat of snow, holiday break, various teacher planning days and MLK’s birthday. The only education that has occurred here at all was around the MLK holiday, aka The Day I Spend Crying, because I start thinking about Dr. King, which makes me think of Malcolm, and they were both the most rockingest guys… and now what do I tell my kids? “Stand up for what you believe in and you might be killed”? Yes, that is what I tell them. I tell them it’s worth the risk, even if it means you leave your little children behind. I tell them that Malcolm and Dr. King both were awesome fathers, and they wanted a much, much better world for their little babies. I tell them that is what all parents need to do. Make the world safe and fair and better. And then fix dinner. Amen.

I tell them, “You can die on your feet or live on your knees” when they ask me, “How come they got shot, if they were right?” and “Are you crying again?” The sermon on Sunday at church was about Dr. King’s thoughts on almost giving up — I’ll try to track down the text, it was incredible. Have you ever heard it? He’d had a rough day, was just climbing into bed with his wife, who was already asleep, when the phone rang, and someone was on the other end, threatening him and his family. Again.

So he made a pot of coffee and sat awake, in the middle of the night, worrying, protecting his family. And trying to come up with some reasons to go on fighting for civil rights. For human rights. He finally decided, I have to — if I falter, my followers will falter. He did not falter.

We do need to keep fighting, even if we’re struggling with the words, and the emotions, along the way.

For this week’s Thursday Thirteen — just when you needed them…

THIRTEEN TIMELY QUOTES

13. “The giraffe you thought you offended last week is willing to be nuzzled today.” — anon.

12. “I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.” — August Strindberg

11. “Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra, which suddenly flips over, pinning you underneath. At night the ice weasels come.” — Matt Groening, “Love is Hell”

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Portland has lost an incredible community member and activist. From the Neighborhood Schools Alliance:

“Our beloved friend, Sheila Rae Brown, passed away Jan. 17, 2007. Sheila was a community organizer with Neighborhood Schools Alliance, and an NSA Steering Committee member. She was a member of Jefferson High School PTSA, a longtime SMART Reader volunteer at Irvington Elementary School, and an active member of the Irvington Neighborhood Association.”

She was lovingly described by a member of NSA as “a model of an engaged, outraged, civilized citizen.”

We can all try to live up to that example. Rest in peace, Sheila. We’ll miss you.

“You are the kind of bad mommy who never feeds her kids.”
— Wacky Boy

Dear Internet,

The Winter Hawks lost tonight. Also there were three fights. This upsets me. I think my partner in crime is going to write about the whole debacle, so you can go over to his place for All Things Hockey.

Now back to me. Did you know, dear readers, that I’ve been writing this blog for nearly two years? That’s right — Valentine’s Day will be my two year anniversary. But I like to celebrate everything early, so I’m taking the week off.

I leave you with:

WACKY MOMMY’S GREATEST HITS: A RETROSPECTIVE

Wacky Mommy Is Here (where it all began)

i cannot blog until the contractors leave (Yeah, reading this will make you never want to have work done on your house)

Friday Advice Column for Wacky Mothers & Others (Advice and recipes — what more could you ask for?)

All Abouts (My Illustrious Literary Career)

Thirteen Ways to Get It Up (this one needs no explanation)

I Had A Bad Year in 1997 (you will possibly cry)

No TV? Yes TV. And Tongue-Kissing (if Wacky Boy hadn’t gotten into a.m. preschool, I really would have committed murder)

An Editorial Wherein I Ain’t too Proud to Beg the Rolling Stones to Retire, Already, Before Keith Falls Out Of A Coconut Tree Again (no, I never posted this on the Stones fan club site, although several of you suggested it. Should I?)

Smooches,

WM

“His name is not Jethro. Or Ro-Ro. You cannot start calling him that.”
— Wacky Boy, when he hears my plan to rename Wacky Dog. (Here are pix of Wacky Dog with my sister’s crazy dog. And did you see this fat lab? Oh. My. Gaaaaaaaaaawd.)

Wacky Girl: “We already washed our hands. Upstairs.”
Wacky Girl’s friend, flatly: “No we didn’t.”

Wacky Girl: “I didn’t throw the ball — he did.”
Wacky Boy, agitated: “No I did not!”

— Wacky Girl discovers the joy of lying

“You read ahead in The Borrowers Afield, but not The Babysitters’ Club? No fair.”
— Hockey God to the kids, at bedtime

Hockey God: “Remember how you said you’d put the kids to bed at least once a week? How about you do that?”
Me: “I did. On Wednesday. So you could go to the hockey game, bozo.”
Hockey God: “Bozo. That’s nice.”

“Uh-huh. First I need some Tylenol.” (leaves the room)
— my Mom, when I ask her to read a post on my blog

“What I need, and it is not a hug, is help on this puzzle.”
— Wacky Boy

“Don’t lick that!”
— Hockey God, yelling at one of the kids

“The bitch you know is always better than the bitch you don’t.”
— Wacky Mommy

This week I was asked three different questions by three different readers, none of whom went to the right person for advice:

1) Should I have a baby alone (with a sperm donor)? Yes or no? I feel like I will regret it if I don’t.

2) How do I find a great guy like Hockey God?

3) Why didn’t any of you (bleep-bleep) moms tell me how hard nursing would be?

Sure, those are easy enough questions. I’ll bite. Oh, that’s not me biting — that’s a nursing baby!

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Those of you visiting from Mom’s Daily Dose, que pasa, mamas? Welcome!

More in a bit — need to run kids to school.

For Thursday, Jan. 11th, 2007, here’s my Thursday Thirteen:

THIRTEEN WAYS I’M LOSING POUNDS AND POUNDS

13. By saying “no.” No to candy bars, french fries, Taco Bell (I love you Taco Bell. Miss you. Kisses!), no to mochas (no to daily mochas, at any rate… more on mochas later…). No is a great word.

12. By trying to work out daily. Walks, yoga, stairstepper, stretches. I bought two pairs of running shoes on clearance and keep an old pair of sneakers next to the stairstepper, which Hockey God bought me for cheap-cheap at Play It Again Sports.

Now, and for probably the next three months, are the best times to buy used work-out equipment. Do any of us keep our New Year’s resolutions? No, we do not. Use this to your advantage. Check the stores, Craigslist, the classifieds, your neighbors’ garage sales.

Wacky Grandpa bought a deluxe elliptical for a great deal, just because a well-intentioned woman was chagrined to find herself looking at it (but not using it) day after day. I am ready to move to Iowa City just so I can stop by his house daily to work out. It’s the Cadillac of ellipticals. Plus they have a Jacuzzi tub. And a gift-wrapping room. And a huge yard, on a great street with tons of families. Don’t you think we should move in with them?

11. By watching TV while I work out. No more lazing around in bed watching any of my new and old favorite shows. These include, but are not limited to: The Knights of Prosperity, My Name is Earl, THE OFFICE, General Hospital, One Life to Live, LAS VEGAS. And speaking of Josh Duhamel — he is a mere 6’2″. I would have guessed, eh, 6’3″, 6’5″ possibly. But he looks much taller. You know why? He is not fat. No, no Taco Bell for Josh. No chalupas there, baby.

10. I did a whole “mind-over-body” trip on myself. I reduced stress. How? By not stressing! Stress creates stress. Yeah, getting rid of The Contractors Who Refused to Leave helped. That helped a lot. Did I mention we finally paid them? That’s right. I told them they took four months to finish my bathroom, so I figured waiting four months after that to pay them was fair enough. Contractor, after hearing this: Gulp. Really, you don’t want to ever try to crush my legs because I will spring back from it, and vengeance will be mine.

9. I stopped drinking booze. (Bonus: This has saved us a ton of cash when dining out.) I was thinking that drinking was reducing stress, but I was leaning on it too much, which created more stress. Speaking of…

8. We stopped dining out so much. I’ve started substituting a bowl of soup (with no bread) for a meal whenever I can. (I try for once a day — it’s more like once every other.) Ditto a bowl of cereal (non-sugary) for a waffle. A cup of yogurt instead of a grilled cheese… You get the idea.

7. I started drinking more water. Eight-ten 8 oz. glasses every day. I keep a little notebook and tally it up. I also take fiber, vitamins, calcium and anything else I can find in the medicine chest. Kidding! about that last item. I am no druggie. I’m ditzy enough already. (You are welcome to disagree with me. Please.)

6. I started thinking about my kids, started moving like them, eating the way they eat, just trying to keep up with them, basically. I am 42. They are not. Who do you think has more energy? And speaking of…

5. I’m trying to get enough sleep every night. This is not easy, because I spaz. Especially when it’s 11 o’clock, and I hear a train whistle blow, and it reminds me of when I was a kid and my dad would get home from work (he worked swing). And then one night he didn’t. You know what helps for freak-outs such as this? Don’t laugh. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. Because we all have a little ADD mouse (or moose, or pig) living inside of us, and it’s OK. You just have to learn to cope with it, that’s all.

4. More on the mochas: I fix myself coffee at home, and put a little chocolate syrup in. I call it an “almost-mocha.” And since it has no whipped cream, and not as much chocolate as a coffeehouse mocha, it does not have nearly as many calories.

3. More on #10 (the mind-over-body thing). I came to terms with some things I couldn’t fight: The Nasty Neighbor, for instance. Remember her? How could we ever forget her. Did I mention she wears leggings that she sort of oozes out of? She is not the sort of gal who should wear leggings. Especially not with a too-tight T-shirt, tucked in at the waist and baby blue Crocs. Ouch.

Dress. For. Your. Body. Type. Please, people, I just cannot stress this enough. I don’t care if you’re tall, short, heavy, thin, busty, flat, with a bubble-butt, whatever. Dress in a way that doesn’t accentuate your flaws. For instance, those of us with voluptuous asses should not have the words JUICY printed across them on our track pants. Whew, sorry I’ve been needing to get this off my large, curvy chest for awhile. Also, the neighbor felt the need to put up a pop-up canopy, sort of like this one, over her back patio.

So the dog poop won’t wash away in the rain. God, it is hideous.

God, maybe I’m not as over her as I thought I was. But for real, I am trying to focus on other stuff and it has reduced my stress level a ton. One of my friends suggested I hang twinkly lights in my kitchen window, as a distraction. I also put some pretty blue bottles on the windowsill. Ahhh, nice!

2. Baby weight is no joking matter. It’s like your body is all, “Baby! Ah, babies! I will keep these nice, soft extra pounds on as cushion, in case I decide to bear triplets! Ah, breastmilk, I’m ready for you again!” NO, NO, A THOUSAND TIMES NO. I told my body, “Sorry, but it’s time to shut down production.” And it did. And no cortisol stress going to belly, since I’m de-stressing. Ah!! Bubble baths are great, I must say. And I’ve started writing more in my journal. The blog helps, too. I love Thee, Blog, and the readers and friends I’ve met through you.

1. And… I cut back on baking. I love to bake. This one is the worst. Wish me luck, and good luck to you, too, if you’re trying to get or stay in shape.

Happy Thursday!