Here’s some of that Pacific Northwest Upspeak you hear so much about, that leads to confusion, miscommunication, slurred speech, the urge to drink too much coffee, a fondness for banana slugs, etc.:

When you haven’t had a shower in your house? (Yeah, we have a tub, but no shower? Since something, like, 1986? Or whenever I first started blogging about this? Which was completely a rilly rilly long time ago?) And the contractor guy finally calls to make arrangements for his gun-for-hire plumber to come out? What you do not want to hear is the dude saying, “We’re pretty busy this week though?”? See? I want to, maybe, wash my hair here? Possibly? Not at the gym, or at my girlfriend’s house?

Me: “I HAVE NO SHOWER.” (losing all upspeak)

Him: “Oh, right. Maybe I should call your husband?”

Wacky Girl has gone to a whole lotta of birthday parties in the nearly seven years she has been here on Planet It�s Somebody�s Birthday Again. In fact, just today she went to two more! (One for a boy, one for twin girls. So really? It was more like three, three, three parties in one day!)

The child is something of a birthday party expert. As a party-hopping mommy, I appreciate a fun party that doesn�t overwhelm the kids (or the parents) and leaves us wanting more. (First tip: Most of the time less is more and just perfect.) Here are some suggestions for you, and some pitfalls to avoid. Happy partying!

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Dear Wacky Mommy:

Question: How do we encourage our daughter in her artwork without making her more conceited?

Signed,

Mother of Three

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Here, I’ll write this in the style of Betty Crocker ‘s Cook Book for Boys and Girls, so you can deal. This recipe is total comfort food. Thank you to Zipdodah for suggesting it. It sounded so good when she described it, I put away everything I was fixing for dinner and made my own version of this instead. Then made it again two nights later. Then got on the scale and decided to not fix it for awhile. It’s like a Seven-Layer Dip only more layers, and yummier.

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My Wacky Neighbor just brought over an entire plate of gooey, frosted brownies. OMFG. Thank you, WN!

Happy and cold today. Not wishing for anyone to roast in hell. Am writing now, must go.

Burn in hell, Neil Entwistle.

The lice policy for Portland Public Schools is…

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Mine does. It’s not the Clap, it’s Lice. “Scratch, everybody! Scratch!” Yeah, I have some hideous sinus infection combo wallop thing, my throat is still trashed (the doctor took a long look at my vocal cords — “Are you sure they’re not damaged?” he asked. “No, I just sound sexy.”) The kids are finally over the flu-cold-respiratory thing they had, so they’re bouncing off the walls — which brings us to My Life in Hell, the Afternoon Session: Wacky Girl’s Class is Chock Full O’ Bugs.

Just in time for Valentine’s Day snuggliness.

Wacky Girl: “Y’know how we found out? S looked at S and said, ‘Hey, there’s something in your hair!’ And then that’s how we found out it was lice.”

Neat-o. Our heads have been checked and so far, so good. It’s just the power of suggestion is all.

Feeling itchy?

Happy VD — Clap, everybody! Clap!

Love and kisses,

WM

Also, the Stabber? Spent the entire morning on Friday stabbing himself in the forehead with a pencil. (A sub was there. She refused to “play the heavy,” as my hippie parents used to say, with the kids.)