After all this talk of bugs, I do not want to make you itch, scratch or curse like a sailor. So for this week’s Thursday Thirteen I present:

13 Things That Make You Feel Good

13. When you get your back scratched without even having to ask.

12. R&B — Marvin Gaye, Tammi Terrell, Stevie Wonder, The Temptations… “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day/When it’s cold outside I’ve got the month of May…”

11. Soft pillows, cozy quilts and clean sheets.

10. Cherry blossoms on all the trees.

9. A new job. With new co-workers. And a new mug for your desk.

8. Chocolate brownies with vanilla ice cream.

7. Two flats of cosmos and pansies to plant, a big bag of hollyhock tubers, sweet peas, asters and calendula.

6. A birthday party and it’s not you who’s the one turning… I cannot say. But all of you, please tell my Wacky Sister HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! forty times. Heh heh. (Wait, what am I laughing about? I’m three years older. But not until June! Until then, I am two years older.)

5. When you wake up in the morning and the dishes are already done, the laundry is done, and the coffee is made. (This has never happened to me — I mean, not all three at once — but I bet it feels good.)

4. “Getting your hair cut and taking a bath,” says Wacky Boy.

3. Speaking of — lavender bubble baths and candles. Peppermint foot lotion. A big bouquet of flowers.

2. Not having to go to school.

1. Knowing that summer is on the way — lazy, warm nights, going swimming all the time, picnics in the bed of our truck. In the driveway. (Don’t ask — our kids adore this.) Drive-in movies, all of the windows and doors open, the garden in full bloom. Fresh peaches, plums and nectarines. Going to the beach for the day or the week.

Happy Thursday, everybody.

Here’s a Q&A with Wacky Mommy, by Wacky Mommy:

Q: Only dirty sluts get lice. You are such a dirty slut.
A: Please phrase your question in the form of a question.

Q: Are you a dirty slut?
A: No. But the three parents from the other second-grade class, the ones who refused to play room parent and call the other parents, so I could make 25 calls instead of 100? They are dirty sluts. Also assholes for not helping.

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I’ve changed my schedule. Again. Because why stick with a routine, a regular, boring routine, when you can make a new routine that is even more insane and complex than the old one? This new sked involves 1) job-hunting 2) volunteering in my daughter’s class on Mondays 3) going to the acupuncturist as much as I can (health stuff I am not wanting to write about — too personal. And boring. You know.) and 4) watching the entire first and second seasons of “The Office” (I’ve missed a few, here and there) 5) volunteering in my son’s class on Thursdays 6) women’s group on Wednesday a.m.’s (we discuss much and eat much and drink coffee, while the kids shriek from the other room) and 7) going to church every Sunday, not just Easter. Also, I am dealing with repercussions from not “doing” my old sked. I am talking about my girlfriend who I go for coffee with frequently.

Only now it’s less frequently because I Am Insane with New Sked. Her: “You are going for coffee with someone else? Not me? Are you going to our place? You are such a slut.” Me: “Sorry. Next week?”

So Wacky Boy, Who Is Five, was playing at the sand table yesterday, with one of his many best friends forever, and his BFF tells him, “You’re my best friend!” Wacky Boy, in turn, says, “You are my best friend!” (me: heehee. I love five-year-olds!)

Then his BFF turns to me and, grinning, says, “I’m so glad you brought him here. I’ve been looking for this kid for a long, long time.”

A long, looooooong time. And I’m thinking — the c-section, the three months of colic, his love of hitting things with a stick, his refusal to this day to eat much besides cheese pizza and mac ‘n’ cheese — it’s all been worth it. Because his friend was looking for him for a long, long time. I’m glad I could help.

My Easter greeting to you all:

“Daddy, what does regret mean?/
Well son, the funny thing about regret is/
it’s better to regret something you have done/
than to regret something you haven’t done/
And by the way, if you see your mom this weekend/
Be sure and tell her/
SATAN, SATAN, SATAN!!!”
— Butthole Surfers

Go say hi to Mallory, she’s cracking me up.

Oh, chocolate. We love you, chocolate. We love you when we are PMS, we love you at weddings, we love you during parties. And this week, we loved you during women’s group on Wednesday.

My Wacky Friend got this from America’s Test Kitchen, and I got it from her, for you. She says: “It kind of looks complicated, but it was really easy and my son helped me quite a bit, so I recommend it as a ‘Martha Stewart’ activity with the kiddos!”

Flourless Chocolate Cake

8 large eggs, cold
1 pound bittersweet or semi-sweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
½ pound unsalted butter (2 sticks), cut into ½-inch chunks
¼ C strong coffee* or coffee liqueur (optional)
Confectioners’ sugar or cocoa powder for decoration

1. Adjust oven rack to lower middle rack and heat oven to 325 degrees.

2. Line bottom of an 8-inch springform pan with parchment and grease pan sides. Cover pan underneath and along sides with heavy-duty foil and set in a large roasting pan.

3. Bring kettle of water to a boil.

4. Beat eggs with a hand-held mixer at high speed until volume doubles to approximately 1 quart, about 5+ minutes. (By setting the hand held mixer on a pile of books, you can avoid having to hold the mixer for five minutes while you beat the eggs to a froth. Alternately, you can have your child hold the mixer, thus involving them in a fun activity and keeping them out of other things for 5 minutes.) :-)

5. Meanwhile, melt chocolate and butter (and coffee or liqueur, if using) in a large heat-proof bowl set over a pan of simmering water until smooth and very warm (about 115 degrees), stirring once or twice. (For the microwave, melt chocolate and butter together at 50 percent power until smooth and warm, 4-6 minutes, stirring once or twice.)

6. Fold 1/3 of egg foam into chocolate mixture using a large rubber spatula until only a few streaks of egg are visible; fold in ½
remaining foam, then the last of the foam, until the mixture is completely mixed.

7. Scrape the batter into prepared springform pan and smooth surface with a rubber spatula. (Thoroughly lick spatula and bowl – also a great activity for salmonella-immune children.)

8. Set roasting pan on oven rack and pour enough boiling water to come about halfway up the side of the spring form pan.

9. Bake until cake has risen slightly, edges are just beginning to set, and a thin glazed crust has formed on the surface (an instant-read thermometer inserted in the center will read 140 degrees), about 22-25 minutes. (If using a 9-inch pan, rather than 8-inch, the baking time will be 18-20 minutes.)

10. Remove the cake pan from water bath and set on a wire rack; cool to room temperature. Cover and refrigerate overnight to mellow (up to 4 days).

11. About 30 minutes prior to serving, remove from springform pan sides, invert cake on a plate covered with waxed paper, peel off the parchment pan liner, and turn cake right side up on a serving platter.

12. Sieve light sprinkling of confectioners’ sugar or cocoa powder over the cake to decorate, if desired.

Bon Appetit!

WM

HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO crew of the Thursday Thirteen. Do you remember being five? I do not. I vaguely remember my kindergarten teacher trying to sweet-talk me into taking a nap, and I was no napper. That’s about all I remember. I’m hoping that by keeping this blog, I’ll be able to help my kids keep more of their memories than I have. It could work.

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No, don’t take it away! (Again, kid-friendly.)

“This world
compared to You —

a lake so tiny
even a mustard seed
is too large for it to hold.

Yet from the lake all Beings drink.

And into it deer, jackals,
rhinoceri, sea-elephants falling.

From the earliest moments of birth,
falling and falling in You.”

— Lal Ded

“Once upon a time lived a young woman from a St. Louis suburb. She was an honor roll student, she played the violin, she donated blood and volunteered for American Heart Association walks. She elected to put off college for a while and joined the Army once out of school. At Fort Campbell, KY, she was assigned as a weapons supply manager to the 129th Corps Support Battalion.

She was LaVena Johnson, private first class, and she died near Balad, Iraq, on July 19, 2005, just eight days shy of her twentieth birthday. She was the first woman soldier from Missouri to die while serving in Iraq or Afghanistan.

The tragedy of her story begins there.”

To read more (be warned, please — this is not an easy read), and sign a petition, go here.

Rest in peace, hon.