Bursting the Art Bubble

Another day on the job:

Calder, almost 4, is drawing a picture. It's a person; it has a head with a face, and the legs come out of the head. It's a typical drawing that a child Calder's age would make.

Ari, almost 5, sidles up to Calder and begins the following conversation:

Ari: What are you drawing?

Calder (enthusiastically): This is my mom!

Ari looks at the drawing, then looks at Calder.

Ari: You think your mom looks like that?

Blazing Burritos, Batman!

I went to a local taqueria for dinner last night. It's a chain; not too much of an atmosphere, but the food is good. I guess one family of three wanted to make their own atmosphere. So help me God, they put two taper candles in a silver candle holder on the table, and had an intimate dinner by candlelight. They should make a sign; BYOC.

Lint...Not Just For Bellybuttons

Oh man, the scenarios I find myself in at work.

Today I was in the bathroom with one of my boys. He was pooping. I had to wipe his little bum. It's part of my job, what can I say?

He went into full "wipe" stance, bending over to touch his toes so I could get at what I needed to get at. I wiped his bum, and he said, "My penis is dirty." Well, what was I to assume, but maybe that a little poo got onto it. I wasn't about to full-on wipe his little wee-wee, so I just sort of swiped at it from where we were both standing; him, bent over, and me, from behind. I took a swipe, and he stood up and said, "Alex, I got pee on my nose and my forehead!" Oh my god.

Well, he and I laughed for a minute, and then he said, "My penis is still dirty." He showed me his uncircumcised penis, and indeed, there was a little blue spot on the tip of it. At first, I thought it was marker (not that I wanted to go there), but upon further inspection I determined that it was a piece of lint. Again, I was not about to remove it, so I told him to pull it off. He tried, without success. He finally said, "I guess I'll have to take a bath tonight!" I agreed, and followed quickly with, "Okay, pants up! Flush! Wash hands! Let's go!"

Boy, am I glad I don't have a desk job. How boring.

Signs of Spring!

Ice Cream...Annually

I enjoy ice cream once a year, in March. That's when the local ice cream place has the Irish Lace flavor--mint chocolate ice cream, but instead of chips, it has shaved chocolate. It melts in your mouth and sends me to a faraway land, a place like I would imagine Heaven to be. This photo doesn't even do it justice.

Friends, if you live locally, go to JP Licks and try some. Check every day in March, 'cause they often run out.

The runner up is peach, served in the summer. For me, it's cake and muffins the rest of the year.

Hi Def--So What?

What is the big deal about HD? I went over to my friend's house yesterday, and he has a huge HD TV. He was so proud, showing me the clear picture. Of course, not everything is shown in HD yet, so a lot of the channels were a little fuzzy, but the clear ones just looked like animation to me. They were clear, all right. You could see the broadcaster's wrinkles and cakes of makeup. Do I really want to see that?

There are these commercials about how HD is coming in 2009, and if you don't have an HD TV, you have to get a converter box, and you can get a voucher from the government for the box. It all sounds a little fishy to me. Is HD coming to the whole country in 2009, or just in my area? If I don't get a converter box, will my TV blow up? I'm told that all I'll see is static.

Since I watch a lot of TV, I am considering saving up money to get a flat screen HD TV. Not for $1500 like my friend's, but a smaller one. Size doesn't matter to me, ha ha. Till then, I'll be glad that I can't see every single age spot of Keith Morrison's.

Mom

March 13th marked 18 years since my mother died. I was 21 when she passed, but I had spent 3 years with relatives as a teenager. That means I've had 18 years with my mother, and 18 years without her. Frankly, I'd rather that she was alive and with me. She'd croon Amy Winehouse songs and campaign for Obama. And be completely flustered by the internet. I'm sure you have access to everything in Heaven.

I took this picture while at a park the other day. It's pretty powerful, I think, the tree and the sky. I just noticed the American flag in the bottom left hand corner. Guess it's patriotic, too.

Memories...

They were out of my favorite dish washing soap at the store, so I got a different kind. It smells like one of my childhood cereals: Froot Loops.

Ajax dish washing soap: nostalgia without the sugar!

A Pain in the Neck

Yesterday morning I had a fitful sleep. I woke up every hour from 3:30 to 6:30. I got up, fed Shelby, and went back to bed, setting my alarm to 7:15. Woke up at 7:15, sat up, and...KINK! Oh my god, something happened to my neck. It felt like a pinching cord going from the left side of my neck down into my shoulder blade. I could hardly move.

It just so happened that I already had a doctor's appointment yesterday about my knee, which has been bothering me for weeks, due to my beloved jump rope which I can no longer use. I now had two issues to talk about with my doc.

Turns out my doctor had called in sick, so I was sent to urgent care. The building is undergoing renovations, and boy, did it look that way. I was led into a room that looked like it had been thrown together, with cabinets and equipment that were state of the art in 1984. The young woman who led me to the room took my pulse, blood pressure, and temperature, and then a nurse came breezing in. I would not be seeing a doctor. No matter, I like nurses. But not quack nurses. Read on...

Her name was Nurse Russo. I described the pain in my neck to her and she said it was a muscle spasm, which can often be due to stress. I wondered inside my head what I could be stressed out about. Was I stressed about the busy day I had had scheduled, which was now moot? Stressed about the IRS and my deceased father's dealings with them? Stressed about something I didn't even realize I was stressed about? Who knows, I was just hurtin'. Bad. She said she could write me a note to take the next day off and get a massage.

She asked me if I had taken anything, and I said I had taken Advil. "How much?" she asked. "Two, and then one." I replied. She said, "Oh, that's not enough. You need to take three." I explained that on the bottle, it said one or two, and she said that yeah, they had to put that. Take three. How was I to know?

She said someone would give me a shot of amothedkdhesin (insert proper name here, I didn't write it down), and then prescribe 600 mg. of Ibuprofen, which was equal to three Advils. She also prescribed me a muscle relaxant. I asked her if it was okay that I took a birth control pill, allergy pill, three Advils, and a muscle relaxant all at once, because that seemed like a lot to me. I said, "You know...Heath Ledger..." She said to me condescendingly, "Oh, you're cute. It's no problem." Cute, right. My health concerns are cute. Unlike the shoes she was wearing.

She then felt my knees and said she felt cartilage and that she would prescribe physical therapy. This woman was really into handing out prescriptions! I said that I wanted an X-Ray, just to be sure, and she sort of rolled her eyes and said, "Well, you'll just have to come back down here for me to read them!" like I was putting her out. Too bad, Nurse Ratchet, I want an X-Ray.

She relented and told me that "Maya" would be in to give me the shot of amothekdsein, and she gestured to her back. I asked her if I was getting an epidural. She laughed, went out, and a couple of minutes later breezed back in and said, "Well, looks like I'm going to give you the shot." Was she qualified? Was Maya too busy? Did she even know what she was doing? She told me to pull down my pants, and I did what I was told, good patient that I am. She gave me an injection in between my back and my backside.

I went upstairs to get the X-Rays, took it back downstairs, and Nurse Russo "looked" at them (I think she tossed them in the trash) and said that she wanted to go with the original plan of physical therapy. I asked her how it worked, and she said, "They'll call you. Or better yet, you call them!" and she gave me a piece of paper with the directory on it. I got a good close look at her face. Her eyes bulged out and they were bloodshot. Woman needed sleep. Bad.

The update is that the shot worked about 50%, I was on Ibuprofen and muscle relaxants for a week, and I'm getting a massage. No more pain in my neck, but the new theory of my knee pain is that I've compensating for my hip pain on my left side and putting weight on my right knee. I'm going to schedule the physical therapy.

I feel like I'm falling apart, and yet I'm still excited to turn 40. I'm going back to yoga classes.

Eatin' Right

I don't have a stove. I have a 2 burner hot plate, a microwave, and a George Foreman grill. I like to cook, but I also like to eat out and eat at friends' houses. I've been learning a lot about nutrition the past few years. Every once in a while, I bust out a really healthy meal, and I get so proud. Check out what I made myself for brunch last weekend. Cheese eggs, whole wheat toast with vegan spread, salad, and 3 kinds of fruit, yeah buddy!

I've come a long way from the cans of Franco American, Chef Boy-Ar-Dee, and Swanson's TV dinners that I grew up with. That's not to say I won't buy a can of Spaghettios and meatballs at CVS when I'm feeling low and pray that no one I know sees me. Usually I have it with a salad, to assuage my guilt.

Despite the appearance of the Little Debbie football creme cakes of The Superbowl, I no longer indulge in those every day. And I drink skim milk. Thank you for listening to my food confessions; this was just supposed to be about my amazing brunch. I digressed.

For My Birthday

I've got it! For my upcoming 40th birthday, I would like to meet Keith Morrison, pictured here, of NBC's Dateline. If anyone can pull a few strings, that would be great.

Most of my friends would think that I'd like to meet Prince. Not so. He is inaccessible, and far beyond this earth to meet. I couldn't stand to be in his presence; I am not worthy.

Keith, however...I used to think that if I was caught up in some horrific crime, I would want Keith to be the one to interview me. Now I'm thinking I don't need to be in an awful situation. I'd love to have coffee with him and just listen to him talk, or even have him record my outgoing voicemail message. Perhaps have him read a few books on tape? Something, so I could capture his voice and keep it to listen to any time I wanted. See the concern and seriousness on his face, as he listens to the police officer describe the scene of the crime? Keith cares, and makes you care...and question.

So, friends and readers, throw out a few mass emails, make some calls, whatever. I'd be a highlight of my 40 years. Thanks in advance.

And to Some, I'm a Riddle

To balance the previous blog, I will tell you about an encounter I had yesterday. I was walking home, and ran into a former preschool student of mine and his mom. Coincidentally, I hadn't really seen this child in the past two years; he must be about six.

I hugged the mom and put my arm around the kid. "How are ya, Adam, you look great!" Mom and I were laughing and smiling at each other, and Adam, "deer in the headlights" eyes, said, "Mom, who is she?"

Saw this kid almost every day for a year and a half, and he doesn't remember me. Go figure. You make an impression on some, and others...not so much. I think it was because my hair was different. I hope.

Riddle Me This

The other night I went to my friend Gwen's birthday party. In addition to all the adults, there were a few kids running around. I was talking to Gwen's 10 year-old daughter Tate, when this 11 year-old boy, Martin, came up to her and said, "Hey, where's that lady who tells the riddles?" Tate pointed at me and said, "She's right here!"

The kid was so excited, and I have to tell you, I wasn't sure who he was. They had to remind me of a time when I sat with them at the kitchen table once and told a lateral thinking riddle: a guy is in a phone booth, and he's dead. How did he die? They had to ask yes or no questions, and they eventually figured out the answer, after an hour or so.

This was two years ago. I guess I had made quite an impression. Martin had remembered me, and associated me with a party with Gwen and her family. I was amazed and honored! Martin asked me for another riddle, and of course I came up with one right away (A guy is lying in a field, dead. There's a package next to him. How did he die?) This time he got it in about 10 minutes.

I do love hanging out with kids. They never cease to amaze me.

How to Leave a Comment

My friends always tell me they don't know how to leave a comment, or they think they have to sign up to leave one. Not true.

Here's what you do: First, click on the bottom of the post where it says, "comments." Next, write what you want under "Leave your comment." Sign it if you want me to see that it's you. Then go down to where it says, "Choose an identity." It will already be on the Google/Blogger choice. Click on Anonymous, then click "Publish your comment."

All done! Now, go leave some comments. Thanks!

Gettin' Bigger

In my job as a preschool teacher, I help kids with many aspects of their lives, including toilet training. I've assisted kids with diapers, moved them through the first time sitting on the toilet, and on up through wiping their cute little bums. It's always exciting when a child makes it to the next step.

The other day one of my boys had just gone, and I was getting ready to wipe him, but he told me, "I can do it myself." And he did, and I noticed he wasn't using the little toilet seat anymore either. I was so proud, I started doing a little dance and sang, "Oh yeah, he can do it, oh yeah, he's getting bigger, doin' it himself, oh yeah!..."

And the kid just looked at me and said, "Whatever, Alex."
My fault. I taught him how to say that.

Microcosmos

Attention Netflix subscribers: Put this movie on your queue! It's a French documentary called Microcosmos, and it's one of the most visually stunning things I have ever seen. If you like insects, you'll love this film. If you don't like insects, you just might after seeing this! It follows a day in the life of insects and bugs, up close and personal. There is very little narration, so all you hear is the sounds of nature, and you see things very close up and in slow motion.

Have you ever seen a bee fold its wing back to really clean it? See a ladybug get bounced off a blade grass by a raindrop? Watch two snails mating to opera music? There was one scene of a beetle pushing a ball of dirt, something we've all seen pictures of or maybe caught on TV. But did you know that they actually do it backwards? And uphill? In one riveting scene, the ball gets stuck on a thorn. I was on the edge of my seat, wondering how on earth Mr. Beetle was going to get it off! I won't spoil the movie for you, but I will say that perseverance pays off in the end!

I was so inspired by this movie, I decided to upload a beetle movie I made myself, while walking home one day last year. Enjoy!

What Not to do for Breakfast

1. Don't cook while wearing a bathrobe with kimono style sleeves. You might catch the handle of the hot pan with the sleeve and knock it down, and in the process put your bare finger on the red hot hotplate coil and burn it. It won't hurt until later, and then it will hurt. A lot.

2. And don't swish the butter around in the hot pan. It will burn and smoke all over the place and smell bad.

3. And by the way, when you go to the store to buy your favorite gourmet brand of pancake mix and they don't have it, don't buy the "New England" mix because you feel like being local. You are not from New England, no matter how many L.L. Bean items you may have in your house. The pancakes will suck, even with Nutella in them.

DO: Make yourself another cup of tea and read The Boston Globe. Reading a local paper is okay.

Snow Movie

It's snowing this morning. This is the view from my porch.
Beautiful.