Alabaster Mom

Hot lunch, wearing me out Hot lunch, you can scream and shout (To the tune of "Hot Legs" - that one's for my mother, the only fan Rod Stewart has left.) The kid starts school in a few weeks.  She was in 4K last year, which was only half days.  Now she'll be the big mouth on campus all day long.  That means I need to figure out what to do about lunch (unless maybe her father is planning to take care of it . . . . ha ha!  Oooh, my side is splitting! I kill myself!). My initial thinking is that I will have her buy the school lunch on days where there is a decent meatless option.  On days when there is not a meatless option, I will send her with a lunch.  But, what to send? At home her lunches often consist of veggie "chicken" nuggets, which aren't too tasty unless heated (and I'm assuming it won't be feasible for her to heat stuff up at school, even if she did know how). Same with veggie hot dogs.  I often pair these items with black beans, a

I thought I'd update my summer goals and see how I'm faring. 1. See a live concert. Sort of. I saw a local band that played at a free summer concert and a local musician who performed at the outdoor bar we visited last weekend. Do those count? We are going to the state fair in a couple weeks and at that time we’re sure to enjoy a performance from a band with a name like “Gary and the Gobstoppers.” Although I haven’t attended a true paid-good-money-for-this-ticket-even-the-insane-service-fees-because-I-truly-love-this-band concert, I can report that I fell in love with a new band this summer: Mumford & Sons. I listen to their songs over and over. I looked up their concert schedule only to find that they’d already toured the U.S. and are now in Europe. Could they not have called me in May and let me know? “Listen, you’re not hip enough to know who we are yet, but you will love us come June!” Woe is me. 2. Purchase and prepare a vegetable that is unfamiliar to me. Yes. W

P and I had a date last night.  Actually, it was a double date.  And no, before you ask, we are not swingers. Yesterday morning, the kid asked me to read her a book while she was still in bed, so I complied.  I'm always happy to read to her, but I have to confess I do weep a little on the inside when she asks me to read Barbie Mariposa to her. After I finished reading the book I told the kid, "A babysitter is coming over tonight to take care of you.  Daddy and I are going on a date." Her eyes lit up.  "Are you going to kiiiiiiiiiiiiss?" "I don't know," I responded.  "Do you think Daddy will try to kiss me?" She nodded.  "He might.  We are family, you know." I suppose I should be glad we've progressed from the days when she was certain she would grow up and marry her father.  I know every little girl goes through that phase but it is a little bit oogie, if I'm being honest here.  Propriety is slowly building, I su

My squishy-faced boy When my brain finally explodes (and I have every reason to believe it will), it won't be motherhood that causes it.  Hell, I don't even raise my voice until after I've picked up the same mateless shoe off the floor for the hundredth time. It won't be the fact that no one seems to understand the difference between the words "lose" and "loose."  It won't even be the fact that Nickelback persists in recording music even though every word, every note is an affront to humanity in general and to good taste in particular.  Nay, my mental collapse shall likely be caused by our collective treatment of our non-human friends, they who have every bit as much a right to exist on this sagging planet as we do.  One more animal abuse news story might just send me over the edge. Actually, maybe one almost did, because I caught this story yesterday about a donkey being strapped to a parasail.  Just when you thought that the sadists of the wo

I think it's been pretty well established that I am capable of forming a deep bond with inanimate objects (as evidenced by the fact that I'd sooner give up a kidney than to surrender my iPod). In that vein, I heart my bicycle. I purchased a season pass for a local river side trail and have used the trail a fair amount this summer. I ride to a park (from the spot where I park my coolmobile), rest on the bench pictured above, and then pedal back. I sit on that particular bench because it has the name Cletus inscribed on the back, and I really think it is a shame that there are no babies being named Cletus these days. This morning, I biked in a charity event with a friend of mine. For days we had been watching the weather with a growing sense of unease and dread. Rain was predicted. There were five courses and we had signed up to bike the 35K course. I think with the conversion that's about 173 miles, right? Seriously, though, how come we measure some things using th

I've been having trouble with my right eye for the past six weeks or so. The gift of sight is not overrated, let me tell you. My optometrist informed me during my annual exam last October that I would probably need bifocals eventually. Bifocals! I thought bifocals were the last stop before support hose and a wash-n-set hairdo. However, I can't help but notice that I am probably drifting in that direction. I find that when I am, say, reading a book and then attempt to look at the time on a wall clock, my eyes say, "Hang on a second, we'll get you the time. Seriously, hold your horses. What is your hurry , lady?!" And then finally, "Okay, it's 7:05." My eyes definitely aren't shifting easily between near and far anymore. So, I was expecting to have increasing issues with the near/far thing, but what I didn't anticipate was for one eye to go all wonky without my consent. When I wake up in the morning, my right eye sometimes seems fine,

I attended my first Pride event on Saturday. It was held at a local park. A friend of mine was visiting from DC and we decided to go. This was the third year for our local pride festival, but I was out of town on the same weekend the past two years and missed it. So, I was excited to attend. I'm always happy to see my mid-sized, fairly conservative town branching out and getting more diverse. I may not be gay, but all were welcome on Saturday. Plus, you know me - I'd attend a fair for lepers if I thought it would afford me an opportunity to eat fried foods and listen to a live band. We arrived at the festival just after it opened at 11 a.m. There were two protesters on the sidewalk (facing the street) in front of the park. I couldn't read their signs very well, mostly due to the sheer wordiness of them. People with signs really need to give some consideration to exactly what passing motorists can read from a distance. I mean, if you want to spread your hate effectively, ma

At what age do kids have an understanding of time and how it operates? I remember thinking, at around age seven, that I went to school half the year and that the other half of the year was defined as that marvelous, magical season called summer. I have no idea how or why I thought that, but trust me when I say I was devastated to learn that summer vacation was a measly 2 1/2 months long. I also recall my mother telling me to stop asking "when when when" and "now? how about now?" all the time. One day she said, "I'm going to tell you when five minutes is up. Starting now." It seemed like about a week passed. Maybe it did - she's tricky that way. In any case, I know that kids have a screwy view of the progression of time, because I know I had that same view. However, I don't recall how long that state lasted. Here are my daughter's definitions of various measurements of time: "On this day" = today "On the next day&

Seriously, you should come around more often. Don't be a stranger! I love you for all you have given me, but mostly I love you just because you're you. As usual, I planned fun activities for the whole weekend. Spontaneity is for suckas! On Saturday, we attended a Pow Wow. We've missed it for the past two years because we were on vacation over Independence Day both years. I've always enjoyed it, though. I love the pounding of the drums and the dancing. I'm always amazed by the intricate beadwork and other details on the native garb. It was hot as all get-out on Saturday, but the participants never let on that they were probably wilting on the inside. The three of us consumed two massive shaved ice treats and were still half-dead by the end of the Pow Wow. On Sunday, we took the kid to a farm. We go every year. She lives for the kittens that reside in the barn (would someone please tell her that we are dog people?). My favorite this year was a goat who w

Yes, I am talking to you, you with the sullen face and spotty customer service skills. You, who will not look me in the eye when you hand me my receipt. If you hate your job that much, would you just get a new one, for fuck's sake? Listen, I did my time in retail in high school and college. I started working in retail when the minimum wage was $3.35. Would you like to know how much I made? $3.50 an hour. A whopping $.15 over the lowest wage one could possibly make. I worked at a clothing store called Show Off. And you know what? I didn't hate it. My co-workers were fun and we all got along (well, except for that odd Jamaican girl who stood in the fitting room all day and drew pictures on scrap paper). It really was not a bad gig. Sure, some of the customers could be surly. Women would pull tricks like taking a blouse into the fitting room, smearing it with their own make-up, and then demanding a discount on that item. Even if a customer was rude to me, I never return