The eternal question

With a slight apology to my friend Sonja, who had life's big unanswerable question recently:

Why?
(that being the eternal question of which I speak.)

I suppose we all pretty much come into parenthood without having previously been a parent. Some have more practice than others. I had pretty much none. I had a couple of nieces by then, but really didn't have much hands-on experience with the very young. I've have/had a couple of stages of development to dread, or look forward to, or both at once, in my mind. I didn't know if the stereotypical stories would ring true with my daughter, but some experiences seem to relate to all. Certain aspects of potty training, for instance. Or how exhausting it is when your child starts trying to learn how to walk. Or the horrors of colic. Or whether breastfeeding would be hard, easy, enjoyable, hellish. Just junk like that.
One stage that I sensed growing close, that I both look forward to and dread even now, is the "Why?" And yesterday, we reached it.

I took Lizzy to the doc. She had a crusty ear, no big deal. Nothing unusual for her, and nothing that yet ANOTHER round of antibiotics can't fix. (what the heck did people do before antibiotics? And what will we do AFTER antibiotics? I shudder to think.) On our way back to day care, she started yawning. She HATES naps and going to sleep. And also hates waking up. She's basically a teenager already, in that respect.

I said, "Lizzy! are you tired?" "No," she predictably answered.
"Well, are you hungry?" "Yes."
"You know what will happen as soon as we get to school? You'll have lunch and a nap."
"Why?" (me -- '!!!!!' IT BEGINS.)
"Well, you're yawning because you're tired. That means you need a nap."
"Why?"
"Well, a nap makes you feel better. You won't be tired when you wake up."
"Why do I hafta take a nap?"
"Because you're tired."
"Why am I tired?"
"Because you need a nap."

We went back and forth about three or four times before she gave up. So the circular argument gives Mom the round-one victory!

Does this go against the principle of Ephesians 6:4?

I feel for you -- I think I love you

Now you just know I'm feeling silly with a title like that!

I don't have time to do a "proper" entry that adequately runs down the craziness that was the Thanksgiving "weekend" (during which I technically had my normal two-day weekend, which made it even crazier) , so I will leave you wanting more with a mere list of things that I need to blog about later. And a prayer request.

-- 5-k 'Turkey Trot' on Thanksgiving morning
-- Thanksgiving with the 'in-laws'
-- Visit and stay of one of said in-laws
-- Panic and subsequent frantic shopping, and subsequent forgetting of friend's birthday party, when realization that dress for upcoming wedding was left at dry cleaners, and dry cleaners was closed through weekend
-- Wedding
-- Last-minute (and, I kid you not on that part) decision to attend Matt's 10-year class reunion, and said reunion itself
-- Subsequent hangover of Matt, resulting in me watching Lizzy ALL BY MYSELF on churchless Sunday morn. Boo hoo! (well, that might be all I have to say about that one, actually)
-- Scary scary Lizzy choking incident Sunday night -- first we've ever had of its kind -- resulting in us both falling down and praising God, in our own ways, for our daughter and our mightily blessed lives.
Lizzy really didn't like being smacked on the back. That was the funniest part of that incident. In retrospect, of course. Not much was funny about it at the time ... she was really shocked that Daddy "hit" her. (in a non-spanking way, because we do spank her occasionally) Poor Daddy, who might have just saved her life, was left trying to explain to the shocked and shaken three-year-old that it was for her own good...

And the prayer request. Most of those who read this blog already know about this, or have posted their own prayer requests on this matter. But for those who don't already know (hm, Jayster and my mom, I guess?), please, please remember my dear friends Mike and Stacy in your prayers. They're about three months pregnant with twins, and it's the most blessed event ever -- take my word for it -- and they will make the best parents in the history of mankind, and they're having a scary week. Some bad, scary signs and complications.
Please beg God that He will allow these precious lives to join us here on this earth, in five or six months, when it would be a good time. Because we all want to know them, and there are many, many lives that will be blessed by them. So please, God. If there is any way to let this happen. As Stacy's brother once said, a long time ago, in regards to another life-or-death situation ... all we can do is ask You.
So, please.

making it all worthwhile

As you might have inferred, I have been more frustrated than usual with Lizzy lately -- she seems to be engaging in extreme psychological warfare, and I just don't feel up to the task a lot of the time. And yet, I don't want to raise a pathologically manipulative monster. We women are good enough at that at times without being raised to be that way.

For instance, last night -- and again, I am to blame for allowing her to get away with this -- she wanted 'warm' milk. She used to want 'hot' milk before bedtime. Now it must be 'warm.' So, I adjust the seconds in the microwave accordingly. But last night, it wasn't the right warmth. It was too hot. So I put a wee bit of cold water in it. Still too hot. More cold water. Now it's too cold. A bit of hot water. (it was probably pretty gross by then, just from being watered down.) Now too hot... You get the point. After about the sixth adjustment, I said, "Lizzy, are you just playing with me? Trying to see what you can get away with?" "Yes," she said, and giggled. And then had the gall to say, "this milk is too cold!"
We'll have to work on that one. Or NOT work on it, rather.

I have to tell you what happened this morning, when I dropped her off at day care. It really made my month. The kiddos in Lizzy’s class made ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ cards for the parents with their handprints on the front that look like a turkey. (they were in their cubby shelves, waiting for us to take them home tonight.) The kids and teachers did a really good job, with a different color of paint on each turkey feather (finger). Inside, the teachers appear to have had the kids tell them what they were thankful for, so they could write it in for each kid. Lizzy's bright, but she's not quite writing yet...
Lizzy’s says, "I’m thankful for my mommy and daddy." I thought, oh, that’s nice. But I bet this is just what the teachers came up with. Then I looked at a card in the kid’s cubby next to Lizzy’s. It says, “I’m thankful for Legos.”

So she really DID say that! She is SUCH a doll.

If I don't get a chance to post again today, have a happy Thanksgiving, everyone (my friends and family). I am so grateful for you all -- especially this new church body. You have been such a blessing to me this year. I really appreciate you, and thank God for you daily. May your holiday be a blessed one.

Potty (not in a Lizzy-related way, for once)

I'm not in a good mood today. It's not a depressed mood; more of a "really annoyed with someone who saw fit to lecture me this morning on something that felt unfair" mood.
Sorry. The right to privacy act prevents me from revealing more.
Suffice to say, I'm sitting in that first flush of anger that makes you feel so good, so entitled, while you're in it, but in the wiser, back part of your mind -- where the still, small voice lives, the one that you're not listening to, yayayaaaaayoucan'tmakeme -- you know you will feel really bad about it all later, and that you're just compounding things by sitting and rolling around in the anger and self-vindication and stuff.
That's where I am today.
And my virtual father-in-law's coming to town this week and staying with us. So that will be loads of jolliness to which I am not so much looking forward.

So -- in a highly impersonal, obviously deflecting way -- who saw the latest Harry Potter movie this weekend?

(WARNING: If there is someone out there who doesn't want to know what's in the movie -- not that I give away anything, or, for that matter, that anything conclusive actually HAPPENED -- or if you don't care in the slightest bit about HP, or my opinion on such -- you might want to quit reading now.)

What did y'all think? I'm tempted not to put my thoughts here first, so that you can give me an uncolored response.
But, because it's my blog, and I'll cry if I wanna:

As those of you who care might recall, I don't read the books, but probably will someday. This is fueled mainly by a combo of 'annoyed that I didn't write them first,' 'not a lot of free time these days' and 'insistence that Jo Rowling will not have the power to make me salivate over the release of her next book.' But, I'm fascinated by the phenomenon in general. And, though I'm completely annoyed by her borrowing from here, there and everywhere under the sun, she does mix it up well and serve it in a delicious way, with bonus points for presentation. Or so it would appear from all I see in the movies and hear from those who HAVE read the books.

I found the movie the least 'fun' of the four so far. I think it has a lot to do with the growing length of the books, thus more to squish into a 2 1/2-hour moviegoing experience. I thought the cinematography was the least fun, the magic was the least visible, and I do not give two figs about Voldemort, so that didn't do anything for me. (I'm definitely not a true fan, yes, as I said.) The kids going through puberty angst -- eh. *shrug* I've never been into teen angsty plots. (hated Judy Blume as a kid.) And there was so much that was thrown in there haphazardly, for lack of time to explain and flesh out, and which left the book-uninitiated feeling very disconcerted. The jumps from scene to scene were very disjointed. Etc. Important lines were tossed in without much emphasis put on them. And much, much made no sense -- I hear it made a lot more sense in the book.
The Myrtle ghost chick stuff? Ew. Ew ew EW. (loved how a Star Trek IV plot made its way into that scene, also. Tres original, Jo.)
This maze business? Totally boring, because it sounds like they cut out almost all fun and explanation thereof.
The dragons? We have no idea (I hear you do in the book) what happened to the previous three 'champions' (and how are you a champion if you haven't won anything yet, exactly?), except that they made it on to the next bit. Those are the parts that are the fun viewing. Not so much stupid Voldemort scenes that actually AREN'T in the book. Oh, and how about how it was Christmas, oooh! And now school's over. Write to me, won't you boys?
And the dance. So, these two 17-year-old boys asked a 14- and 15-year-old? Hm, shortage of older girls there at Hogwarts? Gross.
In the water competition portion: Would that girl have died if Harry hadn't saved her? Who knows. Why did Fleur delaCoeur get to move on to the next one even though she failed? Because, I thought we were told during the first competition that if you fail, you're out.
Yeah, yeah, it's all been explained to me. By one who read the books. But that shouldn't have had to happen, if the movie was GOOD. It should have stood on its own.
Hm. Maybe I liked it even less than I thought I did.
ANY Harry Potter movie is worth seeing, and fun viewing, in my opinion. But I had myriad issues with these.

As always, please, please, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE feel free to disagree. We'd have a boring time if you didn't. I guess my main point here is that, in the past, it feels like Potter movies have been the most fun for those who had no expectations, and little knowledge of, the books. (Me.) But this one was the opposite way. And as a result, I am bummed. I heard from all and sundry that it was really great. Well, it wasn't -- not to me.
I wish we would go back to the days of the intermission. Make a four-hour movie, if the book warrants it! And have a 20-minute intermission. And, for everyone's sake, please actually clean the bathrooms -- including the re-stocking of toilet paper -- and sweep the theater floors between showings. Thanks.

Question(s) O' the Day

Here at Stars and Stripes -- the features section, specifically -- we run, in our weekly Scene magazine, a question of the week. I might have mentioned this before, but I'm hard of remembering.
In lieu of anything interesting to talk about today, I'd like to open it up to the audience. Here's a feedback question I think I'll ask our boys (and gals) overseas next time I'm making up a list of queries:

Have you ever had a vanity plate? If so, what was it?

And, if you were to create one now, what would it be?

I have not ever had one (expensive in Washington state, and I've been too lazy since I've been here), but I'll out Matt. He had one on his first car, in high school. It was "CUREFAN"
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

(in case I didn't make it clear, please answer the questions yourself!)

Random shots fired today at Linusletters

These things individually aren't that worthy of mention, but because -- hey! -- my life's rather boring these days, I'll put 'em down for lack of anything better to do. (I LOVE Wed. afternoons! We've sent our weekly magazine, and I'm left to, um, get right to work on the next one. Or, alternatively, surf televisionwithoutpity.com, or my friends' blogs, or local real estate, or whatever.)

This morning, as I got on the metro and positioned myself -- you know, staked out my territory; not too far inside the door (by the time I get on the metro, at Rosslyn, there's either no need to pack into the middle, or folks already are packed in) and usually standing -- another guy got on and leaned on the pole in front of me. Which, as you metro veterans know, is quite rude when there are others standing and needing to grasp poles. Sometimes, when I feel like messing with people, the passive-aggressive maneuvers are best. So I rammed my fingers -- seriously, as gently as possible -- around the pole. So he was then leaning on my fingers. Occasionally, at stops, I would remove my hand in order to turn a page of the newspaper I was holding with the other hand. Then I'd repeat the hand replacement procedure. It was hilarious, how we were both pretending to completely ignore the other, holding our ground. I was so into it that I missed my stop and got out one past where I usually do.

Mike's toy dog in Home Depot comments reminded me of something that came to my attention today that has to be one of the biggest wastes of money, EVER. Now, for the record, I think iPods and their ilk are pretty cool. I don't own one, but mostly because I don't want to bother with it, and I generally like to hear what's going on around me far more than creating my own little bubble of "MY!" music. But, I bear personal music-type people no ill will. It's all good.
And, those wee outfits now being sold for your iPod to wear -- though cute -- might, just might, be going too far.



However, in my humble estimation, this is going waaaay too far...
Yes, my friends, this is an iDog. It comes in different colors -- white or black -- for "YOUR!" unique expression. So, when your iPod gets tired of its wee, precious outfits, you can put it on this toy robot dog, which will then dance, bark, do your dishes, whatever to the beat of your tuneage.
Does he look cold to you? Why, cover him up with an outfit of his very own! It comes in pink, purple or black! (I wonder why these outfits seem to be skewed to women... hmmm... Don't they think the menfolk will be rushing to this product?
And, if you grow weary of watching the tiny, trendily clothed mutt boogie-woogie, and wish (ye gads!) to transport him somewhere -- Home Depot, perhaps? -- you can put him in this.



So you see, Mike, it really, really could be worse.
Or -- would this give you MORE cred at Home Depot?
It just amazes me what people will waste money on.

So, with irony not lost on me, on to my third point -- how much money I freely give to Starbucks for a product that probably costs them about 13 cents to produce...

My dentist is awesome. When I refer new customers to him, he gives me stuff! The first time, it was four free movie tickets. This time (which was Lizzy -- c'mon! Like I deserve something for THAT), he gave me a $20 Starbucks card! It's been two coffees a day ever since. WOO! WOO! WOO!!! He must know me rather well. Next, it'll be a coffee table book about travels in Europe, perhaps, or scrapbooking supply vouchers, or free stuff at Barnes and Noble ... Ahhhh, I'm so easy. ;)

where am I?

I missed church yesterday for the third week in a row ... at this point in my life, I need that weekly dose of community and spirituality and meditation and worship so badly. Also for the third week in a row, I spent Saturday night with folks of Matt's acquaintance. This 'do was less "party" and more casual get-together, for which I was thankful. A friend of his is trying to get a monthly potluck deal going, which is a neat idea. It's not that his friends are so terrible (despite what I sometimes say -- they're just not generally into what I'm into); it's just that it makes me rather bitter sometimes that I can't see my friends, new and old, more. It's kind of like how Matt's mom is really bonding with Lizzy these days. I look at that and I think, hey, I want you to know my mom like that. Not as some distant person you see once or twice a year. It makes me so sad.

Last weekend, Matt and I both felt under the weather come Sunday morn, and yesterday, I was so excited at the prospect of going to church. So was Lizzy. She referred to her bestest church friend, Ethan, in the past tense recently, and I thought (and said), No, Lizzy! He IS your friend! (sheesh. We really need to get to church for my sake AND hers.) So, we were all set to go -- ON TIME, no less -- and ten minutes before we were set to leave, Lizzy throws up. And, for no apparent reason. She was fine the rest of the day, and eventually ate normal foods, even. (though she did take an extra-long nap.) The timing was so uncanny, I couldn't believe it. Was I not meant to go to church?

And, this just happened to be the one weekend, ever, that Matt made plans with his friends at the exact same time as church. We were already trying to formulate a plan as of how to do this with our one car. So, it suddenly came down to, decide in 10 minutes or less, he or I would have to stay home with an apparently sick Lizzy ... What do y'all do in these situations? When one of you gets to go to church or work, and the other has to stay home?

I needed to go to church SO badly. But, I thought, how weirdly selfish is it of me to insist he cancel his plans so that I can go to CHURCH? And, I know, God doesn't live at church (or the coffee shop). He lives where we are. Though, it's so hard to make myself sit down and pray and talk to Him these days. I always want to take a nap or read a book instead. Because those Lizzyless, dutyless moments are painfully rare. So church usually is the only "fix" I get. And, as I mentioned before, I really miss my friends...

So, there's no tidy wrap-up to this post. I guess I wanted to say, Hey, I really miss you guys. I hope things are going well for all of you. And, though it's no substitute, if there's anything that hit you from yesterday's service, or if you want to give me a little run-down on what happened, I would LOVE to read about it.

Seriously.

Photo Friday

Maybe this isn't so funny without the context. Or maybe I am seriously deranged. (you may vote in the comments section, if you like.)
I'll try to re-create the moment in which I first saw it: I'm compiling a car-care package -- not writing it, but laying out the pages and editing it -- for the magazine this week. So my co-workers and I were digging around for stuff to illustrate it, since we don't always (or ever) get the most stellar art possibilities to go along with the stories we're sent. I'd go into more detail about the ins and outs of how my job works, but I want to attempt to entertain, not put you all into comas. Anyway. My boss, Brian, and my cube neighbor, Danielle, were sending me art possibilities. Serious ones. Then my boss sends me this one, with the message line, "possible car care art."

(note plastic limbs in foreground)

A good laugh at work is a good thing! Makes me feel like I'm getting away with something, if I have jolly moments while I'm getting paid to be here.

In other, not very interesting news: Our on-again, off-again (mostly off-again) maintenance guy got most of the pretty done on the front of the house on Tuesday! And he's back again today, Matt tells me, finishing up! Except the painting, I guess. That two months he disappeared from sight took up all the prime paintin' time. And the prime primin' time. Heh heh. (a little homeowner humor there)

And, it was 59 degrees when I left the house today. Big deal, you say? IN THE HOUSE. We might as well unplug the fridge -- we could leave stuff out on the kitchen counter and it would be juuuust fine. Oh, except the frozen stuff. So far.

Our furnace hasn't been working all week. I hesitate to say it's broken, because I don't KNOW that it's broken, and thus would cost untold riches to repair. Ahhh, yes. But no matter how much that house costs to maintain, when I think about my apartment neighbor from Hades and the paper-thin walls in the building I was just in (no offense, Mike! It was a good deal at the time, for awhile!), I know it's all worthwhile.

We'll have to have some sort of party so you can all come admire the newly beautified home. And so most of you can see where I live, for cryin' out loud. When did I become so antisocial?

poetry Thursday

Maggie has inspired me by posting a couple of my favorite poems, so I thought I'd beat her to this one, which Sonja says was big in her family when she was growing up, too! It's got huskies in it, so surely Maggie's a fan. :)

This is for my dad, who did his best (and largely succeeded) in instilling in me an appreciation for poetry. I'm not sure if the seeds fell on fertile soil with my brother; I'll have to ask. This poem uniquely reminds me of Dad because his mom moved from Tennessee to Ketchikan, Alaska, to teach, then met and married his father there. Dad spent his summers, and his senior year of high school, in Tennessee or thereabouts. Now he (and Mom) are back in Alaska, but in Anchorage. So he can fully appreciate the various sentiments in the poem.


The Cremation of Sam McGee
by Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,
Where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam
'Round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold
Seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way
That he'd "sooner live in hell".

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
Over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold
It stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
Till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one
To whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight
In our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead
Were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he,"I
'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you
Won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;
Then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold
Till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead -- it's my awful dread
Of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,
You'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed,
So I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn;
But God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
Of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all
That was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
And I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,
Because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you
To cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
And the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb,
In my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
While the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows --
O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay
Seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent
And the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,
But I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing,
And it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,
And a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice
It was called the "Alice May".
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,
And I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry,
"Is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor,
And I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around,
And I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared --
Such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,
And I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like
To hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,
And the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
Down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
Went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about
Ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said:
"I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked";
. . .Then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
In the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile,
And he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear
You'll let in the cold and storm --
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
It's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

(Mom, what's your favorite poem? Maybe I'll run it next week.)

Three years ago today ...

We met this little girl for the first time.

It's amazing, isn't it, what can happen in three years. In her, and in all of us.

A few years ago, I couldn't imagine being in this situation. I didn't think it would work, or be good. But now I can't imagine being with any other two people... God can redeem anything.

So today, I packed Lizzy off to day care with cupcakes (chocolate with green, frosting, as requested), Cinderella cupcake toppers (and SpongeBob and Spider-Man for the boys), and birthday hats, napkins, plates, etc., for a little impromptu party there. (the cheap parents' way out.) I had so many things to remember! And I remembered them ALL. Except...
Her shoes. Lizzy has to borrow extras from the day care today -- thank goodness they have extras! -- because her mom forgot HER SHOES.

Thanks to everybody -- especially my parents, and Matt's parents (who blessedly don't read this blog), and Mike and Stacy -- for helping us get this far. We love you guys.
And thanks to Ms. Stacy, mommy-to-be, for the above photo, as well. Without her, we would have zero photographic record that the event happened. Not that I am likely to forget it. One might forget shoes, but never, never labor pains.)

And we survived the terrible twos! (victory dance) Our daughter will be a mature little angel from now on, right? Right, Mom? Right, Sonja? . ...

*crickets chirping*

my job is now obsolete

Eh. An interesting forwarded message:

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulacltyuesdnatnrd waht I was rdgnieg. Thephaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at CmabrigdeUinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr theltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh?

this morning

Scene: The dining room. Lizzy's eating a bowl of cereal, after sitting and waiting for it to get 'soggy.' Matt sits at table, putting on shoes and socks. Kate stands in doorway. Matt and Kate seem a bit agitated, as they are a good half-hour late. Lizzy lingers over her meal.

KATE: (kisses Lizzy on newly, and adorably, shorn head)

LIZZY: Don't kiss me!

KATE: Big girls can have kisses! Daddy kisses Mommy sometimes.

LIZZY: But, no. I'm a big girl. I'm not a baby any more. Don't kiss me.
(turns back to cereal)

KATE: (Crumples in sobbing heap)

Well, okay -- not really. Instead, I fantasized about the day I'll have another little baby, and I'll shower its chubby, oblivious little self with kisses, whilst Lizzy clings to my leg, desperate for attention...
WAAHAAHAAAA.

(Dee -- feel free to remind me that that scenario is actually not all that fun! Or, better yet, let me borrow your baby for a bit so I have another little someone to kiss...)

Good time to be on the East Coast

This one's for Maggie and Schuyler: (and, wow, does it have a miserable lead-in! Perhaps I should look into editing opportunities at the Trib.)


UW, WSU stumbling toward sour Apple Cup

By DAVE BOLING
Tacoma News Tribune
01-NOV-05

SEATTLE -- To the realization that cleanliness resides nowhere near Godliness, and that ignorance has no direct correlation to bliss, we must now point out that misery, apparently, is oblivious to company.

If the adage held true, then the football fans of Washington and Washington State would be currently delighted, and their suffering would be mitigated by the coinciding afflictions of their rivals.

In case looking at the Pacific-10 Conference standings has ceased to be a tolerable experience for you, I'll save you the hardship of squinting at the agate print: UW and WSU are anchoring the standings with 0-5 records.

The grim mathematics are reaching critical mass, driven by what you might call compounding disinterest. In the last two seasons, the Huskies and Cougars are a combined 3-23 in league games, with UW contributing 13 consecutive defeats.

WSU's overall record of 3-5 seems less distressing on the surface than UW's 1-7. But neither will induce vast alumni contributions as the four combined wins include two that came against Idaho.

The Vandals are 2-6 this season, but if the former members of the old Pacific Coast Conference petitioned for re-inclusion, it would likely gain strong support from the Washington schools.

Comparatively, UW beat Idaho worse (34-6) than did WSU (38-26), but some of the Vandals' key players were injured against the Cougars and didn't play at UW.

Both teams have since lost to common foes California, UCLA and USC.

With only two games remaining before the Apple Cup, it's not too early to examine the possibility that both teams could be winless in the conference going into the annual rivalry game.

The Huskies have the better chance of breaking the streak with Oregon State (4-4) at home this weekend and following up with Arizona (2-6) on the road. The Cougs get two straight home contests against Arizona State (4-4) and Oregon (7-1).

As sports fans, you're probably thinking, "Oh, man, I've got to be at this Apple Cup, whatever the costs, because these teams could be making history in what has been a storied rivalry."

But you might recall, with some nostalgia, the odious Apple Cup of 1969.

Washington, under coach Jim Owens, was disrupted by racial unrest and player discord that season. But as much as anything, the Huskies were doomed by a killer schedule.

For a team that could have used as many Idahos and San Jose States as they could line up, the Huskies, instead, opened at Michigan State and then at Michigan, before playing host to Ohio State.

They ran the table, failing to score more than 14 points in any of the first nine defeats.

The schedule-makers lifted WSU that season, even if it was only a tiny boost. The Cougars opened at Illinois and eked out a 19-18 win for coach Jim Sweeney.

We must point out here that the Flailing Illini finished the 1969 campaign at 0-10. The Cougars' visit to the Corn Belt the next week was less satisfying as they gave up 61 points in a loss to Iowa.

They lost by only a point to Oregon the next week before running off a string of five conference losses in which they scored a total of 24 points.

This pair of juggernauts, both winless in conference play, faced off on Nov. 22 in Seattle. Washington won, 30-21. We'd suggest that somebody had to, but scoreless ties were still a possibility in the pre-overtime days.

For the most part, misery hasn't had much company; from 1990 through 2003, there was only one season (1993, when UW was good enough, but on probation) when one of these two teams didn't get a bowl invitation.

So, what's happened to these programs?

Coaching turnover has been a factor. Bill Doba went 6-2 in conference the first season after Mike Price left for Alabama but has been 3-10 in the conference since. And after Rick Neuheisel was ousted, Keith Gilbertson went 4-4 in the Pac-10 the next season, but the Huskies have lost 13 since.

UW and WSU also receive no more conference gimmes, either. Cal and Oregon State and Stanford are considerably better than they had been during many stretches in the past, and neither Washington school has a win over any of those teams in the past two seasons.

So, as they stumble toward their Nov. 19 showdown at Husky Stadium, the only guarantee is that one team will pick up a conference win. And the misery of this season for both teams will be at a merciful end.

Language, part II

Lizzy and I went to the "pumpkin patch" today, on a field trip with her day care. It's actually a petting zoo in Maryland with a hay ride (sit on bales of hay in back of a tractor, ride around a bumpy course with zero other amusement factor -- just makes you long for Cox Farms) and a few piles of little imported pumpkins to pick through and take home. Or, if you're Lizzy, fling to the ground and play soccer with, or line up in long straight rows, even though you're only supposed to take one each.

It was fine. Rather un-noteworthy. Bizarrely nice and sunny for Nov. 1st. Though the light was too harsh for good photos... just as well. After Lily and John, she has to be one of the most ridiculously over-photographed kids in history. (and Lily and John's photos are much better.) NOT that I'm keeping track. :)

We rode in the day care van with a bunch of other kids and teachers -- I didn't even know they MADE 15-passenger vans! Lizzy was hoppin' in the back, between me and her little friend Jack. Who started off the trip by attempting to teach her a new song:

Jack was trying to teach her the colorful variation on "Jingle Bells." Which went like this: “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells, Robin Laid Away..." And in fact, that is all. The batmobile apparently retained all its wheels. No word on whether the Joker got away.
Jack also didn’t realize that Robin laid an egg. Which, of course, is the whole point to the humor … Kids. Heh. He says he got the rhyme from Madagascar. The movie, I assume.
Lizzy kept trying to repeat it, but kept messing it up in the most comical ways. She would sing, “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way,” and Jack would say, “No! You have to say BATMAN SMELLS.” So she would say, “Batman smells, Batman smells…” and he would say, “NO!” (repeat 50 times, with slight variations)

Photos of this and various other outings to be posted, as soon as I get a chance to sit down at home and actually do it.