here’s a post from my sexy husband.

and… Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival.

From my desk calendar, Aug. 21-22, 2010: “I went to college for this?”

Hahahahaha… wait. That’s not funny. But I am. I am your Daily Bitch. Only lately it’s not daily, is it, you poor lil deprived things. Sorry. I’m busy! Watering the yard takes up a lot of time.

I started my new job. My boss is great. Generally I don’t blog about work because, you know. Dooce. (Or as I like to call her, “My little Doocey-woocey.”) You know her, the founder of the expression: “Be ye not so stupid.” Well, who’s laughing now, Internet? Dooce writes about work all day long.

So. With that little disclaimer out of the way… My boss is v. cool. She is Cool 7.0, or possibly Cool 10.0 and I am looking forward to this school year. As my old roommate used to say, “If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s me.” My response, “No, me!” Him: “Me!!!!” etc.

Also I found a ton of new books (including a crateful donated by my Wacky Kids) and I spent the whole day getting the books into the database, bar-coded, with fresh jackets and their little ID stamps, “Property of Wacky Mommy’s New School.” And a fair amount of tape was involved. Mostly I went into liberry work so I can play with tape, stampers and kids all day. Not in that order. The stampers probably are the most critical component for me. Ha! I jest! I’m in it for the love bucks from the students, pure and simple.

So. What’s up, Internet? How’s my girls? And guy? What you may or may not know about me is that I take copious notes. I have hypergraphia, I’m pretty sure. My notepad of choice: My left hand.

Right now it says:

hamster fud
charge Netbook
prom. note
checkbook

That’s right! Cuz in addition to going back to work today (after more than 2 long, glorious months spent in the garage, sorting through my grandma’s china, my other grandma’s “Arkansas Crystal” and… if you haven’t read this post yet, you should, cuz it really sums up my mom’s side of The Family…

(My daughter, “Mom, are you going anywhere with this?”) (Yes, I am.) (Seriously, that’s her new line, she kills me.)

I start grad school on Wednesday. Any school, any place, any time, they should just type a little note at the bottom of the first letter they send you, and that note should say:

plz bring your checkbook!

So I am taking out loans, and a Promissory Note is in order. Hmm. Can I promise what I’ll give them if we re-neg?

* Arkansas Crystal
* the “good slides”
* the 20-year-old truck. It’s paid for!
* and I’ll bake them some Mexican wedding cakes and a Chocolate Volcano Cake.

That should do it, don’t you think?

ttfn,

your friend,

wm

QOTD: “It’s not what you’re wearing, it’s what’s wearing you.”

“I will now
never do
anything that I don’t
want to”

— note I found in my son’s room, along with his copy of “The Indispensable Calvin and Hobbes”

“You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering.” — Henri Frederic Amiel, philosopher and writer (1821-1881)

On the coffeetable:

“My heart, my hope
My soul, my smile
My held and whole
Beloved child”

Hmm. Well, a lot has been going on the last four months. We live in the suburbs now. And you know what? I don’t just like it, I adore it. That surprises me, daily. It is quiet here, and we have mother cussing snakes in the mother cussing yard and well, that’s okay. We’re organic, they like our fresh grass.

And about the grass… everyone out here waters the grass. I haven’t seen so much emerald green since I was a child, and the neighbors were all working hard to keep up with the Joneses. Turns out you need to water… every day, pretty much, to have the Nice Grass that feels sooooooo good on the feet. First, I did not know how to use a sprinkler. Am City Girl.

Steve, doubtfully: “Did you figure out yet how the yellow tabs work? To adjust the flow one way or another?”

me: “DO NOT MOCK ME.”

I have a new trick, it’s called Water the Sidewalk and Hit the Trees on the Parking Strip, the Lawn and the Shrubs, All At Once, Woo-Hoooooo…

But before I give you a full update, here are a couple of blogs I’ve been enjoying lately:

Winn’s Window

They Call Me Jane’s Blog

Things that have remained the same:

We all still love books. Food. Playing. Hockey, hockey, hockey.

Things that are different:

Just about everything. I’ve applied for, and been accepted into, grad school. The kids will both start new schools in a few weeks. I have transferred (library work) to a new school, on the west side. In case you’re counting, that is four new schools for three people. Steve doesn’t get to go to school, but he gets to go to work and play table tennis with the guys and have snacks, so that’s something, I suppose.

We live in a different zip code area now, different city, different county. Lots of changes. I love our new house and want to show it off, but we’ve gone so far underground you can’t even find us anymore. We miss our friends; we don’t particularly miss a lot of b.s. from the old neighborhood and the old city. Too much drama. Also I shouldn’t say “b.s.” we say “cuss now.” Too much cuss in the old neighborhood.

We have more room to roam out here, and not just around the house. Lots of forests, greenspaces, parks, nature preserves. We see deer sometimes. (My Mia will say Hmmmph who cares?? to that. She has deer and they eat all of her beauteous flowers. But out here, it’s not that common to see deer wandering through your yard.)

Also, no one hangs out their laundry to dry, but that’s ridiculous. It saves a lot of money, and also prevents wear and tear on your clothing items. So Steve bought a clothesline for me, one of those twirly ones, and it looks just… like a clothesline. And a little tacky. But I hang out the laundry whenever I want and the sheets and towels smell like the fresh air and sunshine.

OK, that’s all for now, I’m tired. That’s another thing about the suburbs — you get a lot of exercise. All of that nonsense about driving everywhere? We walk a lot, ride bikes, and do about five or six sports. Thus, the laundry.

Happy Saturday, y’all. Off to finish watering the yard, without hitting the clothes that are drying on the line.

— wm

One of my librarian friends sent along this link.

Dave Barry once described Dockers pants as being for the “bigger-butted man,” and I thought that was real funny.

Until we all got super-sized.

Now along comes Steve, with a new door for the kitty-kitty-kittens.

He figures Wacky Cats 1 & 2 won’t go much over 15 pounds (they’re already 13 and 15 years old), but Baby?

“He’s gonna hit 20 pounds once he gets the middle-age spread going.”

We’re now the proud owners of the Big Cat Door, which can handle critters “large up to 25 pounds.”

In addition to the four-way security lock and the see-through rigid flap, you’ll find that it is “Generously sized for today’s large cats and small dogs.”

For the bigger-butted mammals in your life, this is the door you’ll want, yes, indeed.

Would you like my mother-in-law’s recipe for Microwave Cherry Chocolate Cake? Yeah, I thought so.

Ingredients
1 2-layer chocolate cake mix (we like devil’s food)
1 can cherry pie filling
1 tablespoon almond extract
2 eggs
Powdered sugar or chocolate frosting

Process

Beat eggs, add almond extract and cherry pie filling. Mix ’til combined. Add cake mix and mix by hand until thoroughly combined.

Pour into pan and bake:

9 x 13-inch glass baking dish: 11-12 minutes
Microwaveable Bundt pan: 15-16 minutes

Cover with waxed paper and let stand for 5-10 minutes.

Turn out cake and frost with powdered sugar or chocolate frosting when cool. Great with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream on the side.

Bon appetit!

I found this poem (or part of a poem?) last week, tucked in with some letters. It’s pretty — I wish I could claim it, but I’m not the author of this one. No clues, no attribution, just a phone number on the back for someone named Renee, and a note scribbled down that says, B wc at 3. (That translates, in Nancy-speak, to B. — B. who? who knows — will call at 3.)

And now, the poem:

“This was the place where in spring
the ground swelled with the
burst of growing things, where
in summer, like now, the air
was a beautiful blue.

In autumn, in this still
place, the vesper sparrow
sang in the mornings, and,
according to his moods,
throughout the day, but sang
his sweetest, conducted his
best services at evenfall.”