bzzzzzt

very shocking day
revolting current events
watts going on here?

Yesterday the wee-er one learned how to crawl up the stairs. She also nearly electrocuted herself. It was a big day in the haikuoftheday household.

First, the electrocution:

As I was busy winning the mother of the year award simultaneously cooking lunch and talking on the phone and answering questions about why Spiderman has super powers and yet still can’t fly, the wee-er one was busy disconnecting the power cable from the Roomba and putting said cable INTO HER MOUTH while the other end was still plugged into the wall.

Oh, the crying.

She is fine, though. Upon thorough inspection, her mouth looked as if nothing happened – no burn marks or scorches or new capability to tune FM radio channels through her teeth. Her hair did not stand on end, and she cannot shoot lightning bolts from her fingertips. She also has not touched the Roomba since. I don’t actually have any confirmation that she was shocked, but I’m guessing she must have received at least a little zap.

A few minutes after the zap she suddenly figured out how to climb up the stairs. Coincidence, death wish, or both? Did the electrical current fast forward her brain? If she shocks herself again will she start speaking Latin – and learn how to crawl down the stairs?

I admit I’m curious.

But not THAT curious.

Yay, Friday the 13th! I’m so happy we (barely) survived.

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Mother’s Day haiku!

treat mama or self
funny haiku all the rage
you know you want it

Hey, so Mother’s Day is almost exactly a month a way (it’s May 13th). And I’m sure you’re like, "Whuh? Mother’s Day? I only think about Mother’s Day on the morning it arrives, and then I’m like, ‘oh crap, did I send a card?’" and that’s fine. Mother’s Day sneaks up on us all.

Except for this year.

This year you will be prepared.

This year you will decide that giving your mama (or yourself) a signed copy of Haiku Mama is the bestest gift in the whole wide world!

But you don’t live near me. I don’t live near you. Signings are still being planned (or not planned, as the case may be). How will you make this most excellent idea a reality? How will you buy your mama (or yourself) that signed copy of Haiku Mama? How?? HOW???

Email me: haikuoftheday AT gmail DOT com, or click on the "email me" link over there in the top left corner. Tell me how many books you want, if you want them signed (or to whom you want them signed). Then you can paypal me $13 per book. I will sign them and mail them to you without charging extra for that pesky shipping and handling!

So, a recap?

1) Mother’s Day? It’s soon! Yikes!
2) Your mama (and/or you) would love a SIGNED copy of Haiku Mama
3) Email me at haikuoftheday AT gmail DOT com and let me know how many books you want
4) Paypal me $13 per book
5) I will sign the books exactly as you request
6) I will mail you the books – with NO SHIPPING CHARGES OR ANY OTHER SUNDRY, CRAPPY EXTRA CHARGES.
7) You get your book(s). You laugh and laugh and laugh and then remember that one of them is for your mom.
8) She laughs and laughs and gives you a big hug and then leaves you alone about why you never buy her anything nice.
9) Everyone is happy. Haiku takes over the world.
10.) The end.

where are the four horsemen?

eating healthy food
you can spend lots of money
taste bud pampering

I don’t know what’s going on. I took the wee one to school, came home, and instead of eating a mouthful of M&Ms and a PB&J I made myself a feta, cheddar and spinach omelet (with a side of salsa). And while it was cooking, the wee-er one and I shared the most glorious pear I have eaten in YEARS.

Mmmmmm. I feel so full and happy. And that pear? Y’all. I just can’t get over how good it was. I want to save half of it, hording it for years and years because I know I’ll never find a pear that will ever taste as good. Except that hording a pear seems like a bad idea and I should just probably finish it off.

If only I had some walnuts, I could eat the rest of my pear on a salad.

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?

Easter haiku for you!

Ten Commandments, boo
Our Easter movie of choice?
Cole Trickle, oh yeah

babe finds laptop cord
Easter electrocution
not on "to do" list

kind of blasphemous
admitting truth feels good, though
jelly beans are gross

baby’s first Easter
hope bunny won’t be too mad
no chocolate yet

thirty-five, raining
Easter eggs easy to find
when they’re not outside

sleeting Easter Eve
we Texas folks scratch our heads
pull out Christmas trees

Seriously. I can’t believe it’s sleeting outside right now. Easter in Austin is a time for white shorts and new Keds and the neighborhood swimming pools to open. I don’t know what to do about this weather, other than watch the pond across the street steam like a hot tub. Maybe the Easter Bunny borrowed Santa’s sleigh and needs some ice to get around. I have no idea what’s going on.

At least the eggs won’t rot when we lose them in the backyard!

I am like sponegbob under a heat lamp

parched, dry hills and plains
landscape is also itchy
tableau of dry skin

I was reading some snarky magazine article the other day and the writer insulted someone by calling her "moisturizer challenged."

Huh.

I can’t help but be insulted by this because I am always and constantly and forever and non-stop scritch-scritch-scritching away at my dry skin. I mean, when I walk down the street I don’t think I’m some disfigured piece of parchment breaking off clumps of appendages when the wind hits me right, but my skin is dry and I don’t do a very good job of keeping up with my Aveeno regime.

But "moisturizer challenged"? What does this bit of snark mean? Aging before your time? An unfortunate bearer of premature old lady hands? I just don’t know how someone could look at someone else and judge them by their moisturizer use. And I don’t mean that like "I don’t HOW they could DO that!" I mean it like, for real, how can you even tell?

It’s just one more thing I have to keep up with, isn’t it? Height challenged, perky boobies challenged, patience challenged, and now moisturizer challenged?

It’s a creative insult, though, and would require a bit of thinking before you can employ it. So just for the, uh, challenge of it, I think I’ll add this insult to the repertoire of things i shout at people when I’m driving. Instead of just hollering, "You dumbass nut sucker!" I will glance out the window, assess the rickety-ness of said driver’s appearance and then I will let loose. "You moisturizer challenged ass clown, get out of my way!

I dig it.

random thoughts

safety and TV
guns are bad, widescreens are good
incongruent thoughts

Because I need to choose paint colors and ceiling fans and a place for my vegetable garden and a place for my sofa, I have instead spent the day shopping for a new television set. Well, I’ve been price-comparing online, but that counts as shopping, sort of.

There are many, many things that need to be done in the new house, but instead of worrying about those things, our world fell apart as we discovered the TiVo was broken. I know I’ve talked about this already, I’m just emphasizing how devastating it truly was.

This weekend, we immediately bought a new TiVo, and now we’re thinking of making the formal living/dining area our family room, and turning the family room into my study. The only hitch is that there’s no cable connection in the formal living/dining area, so we’ll have to get someone to come hack a hole in the wall and put one in. Once the cable actually works. Which it doesn’t. Though I’m still, apparently, paying for it. This is just one reason why I don’t really want cable.

Obviously, this is a stupid thing to be spending all my time on. Though, I learned an important lesson today, and that is: sometimes you want your cable to work regardless of what room it’s in or how much you’re paying for it.

My mom called and the conversation began like this:

"What are you doing today? I was at a shooting."

"You were at a shindig?"

"A shooting! A shooting! At CNN headquarters. Turn on CNN."

"WHAT?! I can’t turn it on. I’m in the car. Plus, my cable doesn’t work. Well, I don’t have cable in my car, I mean my cable at home doesn’t work. Did you say shooting?"

Holy crap. Here I am, grouchy about driving the wee one half way across the world to school and back, grouchy that I can’t seem to find a kick ass 40" LCD flat screen for the amount of money I want to pay (nothing), and come to find out, while I’m wallowing in all sorts of dumb and selfish things (because I’m procrastinating other more important selfish things), my mother is running for her life through downtown Atlanta.

She’s fine and her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in after she heard the second gun shot. I told her at least she knows now that her impulse at the onset of mortal danger is to run the hell out the first door. Some people might drop where they are or hide in a corner. She just booked it out of there. So even though the day was scary, at least she knows something new about herself. That’s kind of cool, right? Right?

And my dad… he works across the street at the newspaper. So while mom was wandering around CNN, trying to avoid deadly domestic disputes, he was in a meeting that got interrupted when the newsroom heard of the chaos across the street. He checked his cell phone – two breathless messages he couldn’t hear over the sirens of police and ambulances. Can you imagine THAT feeling? You’re meeting your wife for lunch. You hear there’s been a shooting at the place you were meeting her. Your voice mail produces a series of unintelligible messages of heavy breathing and sirens, and you’re watching the whole scene unfold before you.

I just got off the phone with them and they’re pretty freaked out, understandably. And as I always do, I’ve turned this around to be about me. Worrying about drive times and TVs is kind of moronic, isn’t it, when your family is in peril? In fact, it’s moronic to worry about at most any time. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying about it, but at least I’ve been reminded to chill the hell out about stupid things. Those kinds of reminders are important. Though it would be nice if they didn’t have to come from these kinds of crazy ass dramatic situations. Damn.