nature!

life death and eating
the front yard is so busy
nauseating me

I was minding my own business yesterday evening, when the wee one busted through the front door (he was in the yard with his daddy running off some excess energy).

"MOMMY!!!! COME LOOK!!!! A BUG IS EATING ANOTHER BUG!!!"

The wee one’s hair was on end he was so excited. So I left the comfort of my bug-free chair for the great wilds of the front yard. Sure enough, in the grass a hornet or wasp or something was devouring the biggest spider I’ve ever seen. It was horrifying… and really cool.

So I present to you:

Carniverous Bug From My Front Yard
(click the picture for a better look)

Img_3155

um, ok….

sensitive checker
at peace with triangle hair
well, um, not really

We went to the glorious HEB today to get some stuff for dinner. When it was our turn at the checkout counter, the wee one took one look at the checker and said, "He looks like a girl!" The checker didn’t really look like a girl (more like that one dude from Average Joe), but he did have curly triangle shaped hair and a headband, so I could see how the wee one was a bit mystified. Anyway, I quietly told the wee one it wasn’t nice to shout out that people look like girls (though as soon as I said that I wanted to take it back. It’s not the shouting that people look like girls that’s the problem, it’s the pointing at people and making loud comments that’s the problem.)

So the checker’s all, "What did he say?" because he heard my quiet reprimand. I just smiled and the wee one said, "Girls have curly hair." In his world, girls DO have curly hair, he doesn’t know any boys with longish curly hair. This seemed like a long explanation, so I just smiled and said to the wee one, "Boys have curly hair, too, silly."

The checker was mortified. He got all kinds of huffy and red in the face and said, "JESUS had long hair, did you ever think of that?"

It took every last ounce of my courage/patience/something for me to not bust out laughing. But I held it in. It should be more sad than funny that an 18-year-old grocery store clerk would be mortally offended by a three-year-old making an observation, but, well, the Jesus thing threw me. And the long hair thing. We weren’t even talking about that… it was the most hilarious thing that’s happened all week.

Ah, well, I still love HEB.

pretty

looks like Innerspace
an eyeball solar system
security breach?

Everyone? Meet my retina. Retina? Meet everyone.

(By posting this online will someone be able to make a copy of my retina
and use it to access my super secret security clearance codes of the
future? That might be bad.)

Right20050811101508

hee

etymology
it’s not the study of bugs
it’s study of "bugs"

I was just thinking about the word "movies". What a funny word. I mean it. It’s a laugh out loud funny word.

Movies.

If we used that word as a template for naming other things, we’d call cars "drivies" and food "eaties". We’d call chairs "sitties" (well, there are settees, but I don’t know the origin of the word). We’d call doors "openies" and shoes "walkies".

Isn’t that hilarious? I love it. But I’m dorky that way.

bloggity blog blog blog

why play with your child
when you can just write, blog and
ply him with cookies

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Did I tell you about The Other Blog? It’s called Shadowboxing and it’s a little side project I’m working on. I’ll try not to get all evangelical on your asses, but you should check out shadows, too. It’s rad.

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legos

makes me feel so old
and yet young at the same time
scavenging legos

Last week I went up to Dallas to retrieve a ginormous box of legos from the garage of my parents’ former house (a house they finally, finally sold, thus requiring me to retrieve things like legos and second grade drawings of the "libinty bell").

The wee one is, as one would expect, ecstatic over the influx of legos in the house. And these aren’t fat ass baby legos, either. These are the real deal. With pulley and string systems and spaceships and a knight set-up – all kinds of cool stuff.

An interesting thing about the lego box, though, is that when I opened it, some of the pieces were still together. Half-built kitchens lay in ruins amongst falling apart spaceships. Little pants-less lego dudes (with pants firmly – super-glued? – stuck to partial lego cars) are flailing about in a sea of plastic trees and armor.

The question, of course, is when was the last time I played with these legos? Or when was the last time my little sister played with these legos? How could we have been interested enough in them to build a kitchen and then, BAM, suddenly become SO non-interested that the legos were relegated to the back of the garage for almost twenty years? How can you go so spontaneously from play to non-play? Doesn’t that seem weird? These relics of childhood kind of freak me out, because it’s like uncovering your own anthropological site, you know? You’re excavating yourself, remembering things you haven’t thought of in decades – like how the little clear blue legos are the most bad ass of all. And how the wheels feels when you chew them.

Furthering the bonanza of my self-anthropology is my great friend who is coming to town this week. We haven’t seen each other since the ninth grade, when she traveled from Florida to Texas for a cheer-leading competition and I went to watch her shout and have her crotch held in the iron-vice grip of an adolescent youth whose name I can’t remember.

That was the last time we really saw each other, excepting a brief layover in the dallas airport where we got to say hi for a second and a half a few years later.

And now here we are. So old and yet still friends – friends since we were younger than the wee one! And it’s been over a decade since we hung out.

And I have legos for us to play with.

most excellent

fun of a good book
the words are like chocolate
to be chewed slowly

I’m reading this book – The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde. It’s so awesome. Here’s a sample of why I like it so much:

"We’d like your opinon on this. It was taken yesterday."
I looked at the photo. I knew the face well enough.
"Jack Schitt."
"And what do you know about him?"
"Not much…"

I dig this book so much I’m reading it reeeeaaaallllly slooooowwwwllly just to draw out the fun.

burning a hole

time for a nice treat
shouldn’t feel guilty for this
even though I do

I bought an ipod today. The honkin 60GB one. It is so awesome I’m almost speechless. So many songs, so much intuitive organization…. I only wish I could buy an ipod for my desk – or hell, my whole house. I could throw myself up against the wheel on my living room wall and scroll to "Magazines>EW>Where the hell are they all?" and my housepod would show me that they’ve been hidden underneath the ottoman and then it would alphabetize them, or organize them by date. Wouldn’t that be grand?

Anyway, I’m making do with the regular, non-fantastical ipod. It rocks. I’m gonna put some pictures on it and use it to back up my manuscripts, too.

My question is, where can I find a badass skin for it – or a case or something? If, in the next week or so, I don’t manage to a)lose it b)drop it or c)fry it in the 1,000 degree innards of my car, I’d at least like to keep it purty and not scratched. So I need clothes for the ipod. Any suggestions?

woopee!

authorial proof
I will pay taxes on this
first real check for book

I have a che-eck! For my bo-ok! On hai-ku-u! I’m so exci-ted! I would write more but I pulled a muscle in my shoulder/back from – you guessed it – writing. Stop laughing. I have to go get drunk on Advil liquigels while I groan in pain and celebrate my real life author-ness.

TMI vs privacy vs grossing people out vs Alma Garrett

floating in ether
is really an online myth
ether is crowded

I was going to post about this medical thing I had done today. It was no big deal and it kind of hurt but not as bad as I thought it would. I was going to talk about the place I had it done and the procedure and the tech that was nice to me and how great it was for my husband to come with me and for my parents to watch the wee one. And how there was a lady in the waiting room that was very tall and elegant looking, even in workout clothes, and she had on sparkly shoes and she looked remarkably – remarkably – like Alma Garret on Deadwood.

But then I thought maybe there are some things I shouldn’t blog about. Maybe some personal things don’t need to be shared with masses of strangers. Maybe I should remember that even though this blog serves as a sort of diary type thing, it doesn’t really, because I know other people read it, and I would never want other people reading a real diary of mine.

Then again, if it hadn’t been for other people posting about their experiences with the procedure I had done today I wouldn’t have known exactly what to expect. It was nice to be able to read first-hand reports instead of just webmd stuff.

But on my third hand, some things are private.

Back to Alma Garret, though. I think I freaked that lady out a little because I kept staring at her – at first because I thought I might know her from somewhere, and then because I realized I didn’t know her at all, she just looked like a famous person. So as I sorted out how I did/didn’t know this lady I just repeatedly stared at her. And her shoes. Why does one where sweat pants with an obvious thong, a racerback workout shirt with bra straps showing, and sequiny, glittery slide-on kitten heels? Somehow she made the look work, though. Kind of like those girls in your freshman dorm that you somehow hated and wanted to be friends with all at the same time.

Anyway.