President's Week!

Why is George Washington all over this page, you ask?  Because it is his birthday on Wednesday and I'm nothing if not festive.  Also, George Washington is my boyfriend.  Read the books His Excellency George Washington by Joseph Ellis, or Washington: A Life by Ron Chernow and he will probably be your boyfriend too.  He was tall and quiet and dignified and incredibly brave, and he loved dogs and horses.  He had bad teeth, shot bald eagles for fun, and loved to be at home more than anywhere else.  It's like he was made for me.  Of course, there is the slave-owning thing, which is a constant wedge between the two of us.  I've been to Mount Vernon three times in the past couple years (is that braggy?)

Get out of my yard!

It is one of my favorite places in the world.  I would LOVE to have the place to myself for an entire weekend.  I would walk all over the parts that they don't let you walk on, I would snoop in every cupboard and drawer and pretend I lived there.  I think a weekend is all I could take though.  I need my running water, indoor toilets, and refrigeration.

The picture on the header is a portrait of Washington by Igor V. Babailov.

It is titled "My Beloved Country" ~ George Washington.  Babailov is a contemporary painter and based the portrait on the Houdon bust made in Washington's lifetime.

The Houdon bust

The Houdon bust is supposedly the most realistic replica of what Washington actually looked like.  Houdon visited Washington at Mount Vernon after the Revolutionary War, and made a life mask on which to base his sculpture. He followed Washington around for a few days to try to capture the essence of the man.  He said the expression on the face of the bust is based on the look Washington had on his face when he was negotiating the price of some horses and the seller gave him a price that was too high.  Washington just stared him down until the price was lowered.

Happy 280th Birthday, George Washington!

Ask Hobo Siren

There is a new advice guru on the scene and I think you should write her a question.

She might choose your question, but she probably won't answer it. I don't care.  I just want to see another one of her videos.

She's brilliant.

Summer@hobosiren.com

Poor decisions that turn out okay keep you from ever learning your lesson: UPDATED!

You know how you get to be a certain age (over 40) and know better than to do some stupid things that seem like a good idea at the time?  Like calling old boyfriends when you have been drinking, or overpacking for a trip, or cutting your hair when you've stayed up too late and are overtired and have just looked at some very unflattering pictures of yourself?  You know how those things are bad ideas?  Well, thankfully I have never done the first one.  Although I have called people who were not YET my boyfriend after I'd been drinking.  It just goes to show that I am charming, charming, charming! even (especially) after I've had a few.  That was years ago though.  Why are we talking about drunk-dialing old and/or future boyfriends?  I don't know.  The last thing: cutting hair in an over-tired state, I've done that plenty of times before.  And I did it again last night.  I was looking at this picture of myself:



(Sometimes I look a lot like Nick Cage)


And I thought, it's time to face facts, I cannot pull off the bare forehead.  I look like Frasier if Frasier had long stringy hair, which he doesn't, therefore I look worse than Frasier. 

So when I was rushing around, getting ready for bed, stressing because I wanted to get some sleep because I had to work at the crack of dawn, I looked at my hair in the bathroom mirror and I thought, "I should cut some bangs."  Actually, here is my entire inner dialogue:

Me:  I should cut some bangs.

Me: Just finish brushing your teeth and go to bed already.

Me:  No. It won't take long.  And I'll look way better.

Me:  No, you won't.  Haven't you learned that late-night hair cutting is NEVER a good idea?

Me:  No.

Me:  You are an idiot.  Hey, why are you getting the scissors?  Go to BED!

Me:  This will only take a second.

Me:  You are going to regret this. 

Me:  No I won't.  I'll look cute.
Me:  No, you won't.  You'll look like you cut your own hair in the middle of the night.
Me:  I look that way all the time anyway.
Me:  That's because it's the only time you ever get haircuts.  Leave it to a professional!
Me:  No.  I can do it.
Me:  PLEASE, just go to bed.
Me:  Here goes!  (snip snip)
Me:  Great.  You did it.  Tomorrow I will tell you "I told you so."
Me:  I think after a fresh washing and blow-drying, it will look good.
Me:  I'm pretty sure it won't. 
Me:  Sure it will.  These choppy chunks will blend right in.
Me:  No they won't.  WHAT ARE YOU DOING!  PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN AND GO TO BED!
Me:  I think I can blend these choppy parts.
Me:  By cutting it more?  STOP!
Me:  I should.  I can't though.  Man, these scissors are dull!  I don't know what's wrong with me.  Help me.
Me:  I give up.  I'm not talking to you anymore.

Me:  Okay, I'll stop.  Goodnight.

And I got up this morning and rolled out of bed, tired from being up so late, and totally forgot about my late-night major-hair-decision.  I washed, dried and I LOOK SO CUTE!  What do you know, late night self-inflicted impulse-haircuts are a good idea! 



Me, this morning.  Bangs are a miracle!



Update:  Okay, that last picture really isn't me.  It is Keara Knightly.  Honest mistake.  One of my loyal readers wanted to see an actual "after" picture of me.  Sorry, but all my pictures are "before" pictures.  I'm still waiting for the day I can call myself an "after."  So anyway, I took some pictures of my new bangs.  Here, have a look:

BEFORE Before:

AFTER Before:

Culture Clash

I don't really have anything to write about but I wanted to get my personal Valentine's Day love story off the top of the page because it's not Valentine's Day anymore and Mitch says it's "embarrassing," to which I said, "Oh cute, you're embarrassed about our love story!" and he replied, "No,.... embarrassing for you."

Apparently because "normal" people don't freely discuss times when they got totally drunk and got into a fist fight in public.  But, like I explained to Mitch, "I was a CHILD."  I take no responsibility for anything I did before I turned 18.  Some people thought that because Mitch and I met in such a special way in eleventh grade that we've been together ever since.  Not so.  We didn't even start to date until after college.  In case you didn't notice, I made a bad first impression and it took a good 5 years to convince him that I wasn't a complete hillbilly.  He was already prejudiced against me because he came from a wealthy suburban school district and moved up to International Falls.  It was a bit of culture shock.  Not that we were always having drunken parties and fist fights.  There were many weekends we just aimlessly drove through town and wished for a drunken party and the opportunity to see a fight. Other nights we were lucky enough to find parties out in the woods or at the gravel pits.  Sometimes when we weren't in an underage-drinking mood we would go to church and do a little snake handling or play in our jug bands.  I even had a job as a kid! (making moonshine)

Members of the class of  '89.
(I went to prom with Emmett Otter.)

Mitch says that south of Duluth people up in the Falls are commonly known as "Bush Apes," and still, to this day, when I do something especially crude or socially inept I hear him mutter "bush ape" under his breath.

Yes, I can hear that, Mitch; I'm just too sophisticated to justify it with a response.  

Love At First Sight

Hey, notice anything different???  Can you guess???  I temporarily changed things up to a Valentine's Day background!  How very festive of me.  And in honor of this romantic and sacred holiday, I am going to share with you the heartwarming love-at-first-sight story of my romance with Mitch.

One day I was looking on Facebook I saw that two of my friends liked the page "Every women deserves a man who looks at her every day like it's the first time he saw her."  I don't like this page.  Not one bit.  And not only because the creator of the page doesn't know that it should be "woman" and not "women."  (This is third grade stuff, people!)  Mostly I don't like this page because if my man looked at me every day like it's the first day he saw me, we would both be in a lot of trouble.

The first time Mitch and I met was at a party on New Year's Eve when I was in eleventh grade.  My two best friends, Jonelle and Jen and I got together in my parents basement, watched Dick Clark, and drank two bottles of wine we pilfered from the coat closet that I was pretty sure my parents had forgotten about.  We weren't really planning on going anywhere, but then Jonelle's boyfriend, Les, came over and told us about a HUGE party he knew of at his friend's house.  We were three girls who had just sucked down two bottles of wine and we were pretty drunk, so of course we said, Heck yeah! We would love to go to a party!  

It was a "senior" party and Jonelle and Jen and I weren't seniors so right away some of the bitchy senior girls took exception with Les bringing non-seniors to a senior party.  Whatev.  We didn't care.  We drank more and talked with people and had fun until one of the humongous senior bitches picked a fight with me because I sort of passed out on Les's shoulder.  This big bitch, (I'll call her Ethbay Rompetertay) said that I had a lot of gall "making moves" on someone else's boyfriend.  Keep in mind that this was my best friend's boyfriend and Jonelle was passed out on the other shoulder.  And the last time I checked, getting drunk and passing out isn't a very good move, but apparently for those senior girls that was A#1 material, which, if you think about it, reflects pretty badly on the senior boys.

Ethbay, the itchbay, dragged me to my feet and started yelling at me in front of the entire room.  I looked around in confusion and was a little worried because I couldn't hear any words coming out of her giant mouth although, her lips, they were a-flappin'.   I made a blah blah blah motion with my hand and said, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU," to Ethbay, and laughed and laughed, and then...

She punched me in the mouth. 

I had never been hit in the face before and was shocked.  But then I realized I didn't feel it.  I must have been too drunk or had too much adrenaline or something.  Not feeling the punch made me feel invincible and I might have said something about how ridiculous she looked parading around with her tiny boyfriend. (He was about a head shorter than her.  Seriously, she was a giant)  At around that point Ethbay's boyfriend, the dwarf, jumped on her back and while riding her around like a jockey, told her to stop it. (Not making this up) Then another senior girl jumped in and started pushing me around.  Someone grabbed her and pulled her back, (I still don't know what her beef was) and she reached up and grabbed a decorative boomerang off the wall and threatened me with it. "You want some of THIS?!"  No, thank you, I do not want to be beaten with somebody's wall-boomerang, but thanks for the offer.   

It was about this time that Jen snuck out of the house and walked home.  (She lived close.)  Jonelle was still there, but she was being as quiet and inconspicuous as a little mouse so she wouldn't also get punched in the mouth. (my friends are weenies) Les and his friends broke up the fight and Les called his dad to come and pick us up and take us home. (No drinking and driving for us!  We were responsible.) 

While we waited in the kitchen for our ride, and I was loudly asking Les and Jonelle, "...what the heck was she going to do with that boomerang?" and they were telling me to, "shhhhhhhh!"  in case the crazy girl heard me and went into another boomerang rage, I noticed there was a kid sitting at the table who I had never seen before.  He was staring at me with his mouth hanging open like I was a horrifying train wreck (I was) and I asked who he was.  It was Mitch.  My future husband.  He'd just moved to Int'l Falls and was about to start school there.  The first time he ever saw me was when I was underage drunk and in the only fistfight I've ever been in in my life (so far!)  There was nowhere to go but up.  And no, this "women" doesn't want her man to look at her like that ever again, thank you very much.  

 

Me bringing in the new year, 1988.

The Rifleman, the BOOK

I got the greatest surprise in the mail yesterday!  Remember how I told you that my new favorite old show is The Rifleman?  Well, my aunt found the book pictured below at an antique mall and GOT IT FOR ME!  I love it!  You know why?  They have pictures every few pages.  So what I'm going to do for this fine post is do what teachers are supposed to tell kids to do when we teach them to read.  We tell them to take a picture walk and try to figure out what the story is about.  I am going to do just that.  I bet I'll be pretty close to the real story!  Picture walks work!

Okay, from the front cover I can tell the book is going to be mainly about Lucas McCain and his young, loyal son Mark.  I can tell from the tense, protective stance that Lucas is taking that Mark might be in some danger.  Luckily Lucas's trusty rifle is on the scene.  They look to be outside a dwelling with a thatched roof.  I don't recall people in the Old West living in thatched roof dwellings.  It's not a good idea.  Rats get up there and nest.  You know where else rats liked to go in olden times?  In lady's big bouffant hairdos.  The ladies used to plaster their hair up with lard, and at night when they slept vermin would attack their hair.  That's why when your hair is messy it's called a "rat's nest."  I'm not even kidding.  Look it up.  

Another reason thatched roofs and hair-lard products aren't a good idea:  Fire.  

Here is the first illustration.  Lucas seems to be looking over the rifle of a friend of his.  I wonder if he likes it or not?  Maybe he is giving his friend some rifling tips.  At this point in the story, things are going well for Lucas. 

Mark is doing pretty well too!  "Hey pretty little lady, I like your spats!"

Uh oh, first sign of trouble.  Looks like Mark is getting kidnapped.  AGAIN.  Mark is ALWAYS getting kidnapped.  He lures kidnappers from all over the country to kidnap him.  And they even risk kidnapping him despite the fact that his father is the Rifleman, renown all over the West for his accuracy of shooting anything he wants from the hip without aiming.  Mark is irresistible to kidnappers.  

Oh, wait a minute.  Maybe Mark didn't get kidnapped.  He seems to be just fine and with his father watching a man drive a horse through a body off water.  I don't get this.  Who is that guy?  What happened to Mark's kidnapper?  Shouldn't there be a picture resolving that?  If Lucas took his rifle to the kidnapper, I want to see it in illustration form!  

Now what are they looking at?  I don't know.  This is getting frustrating.

What?  Somebody seems to have died. Four dirty looking men carrying a mustachioed man somewhere on a stretcher.  I would guess they are trying to get rid of the body.  What does this have to do with the kidnapper and the water-horse and the thatched roof?  I don't know.  

Here's Mark getting stalked by bad guys again.  Hey Mark, why don't you just stay home?

Okay, what in the HELL is going on now?  Mark appears to be baking something and from the mean look on his face I am guessing that he is in the process of poisoning the batter.  Maybe he is baking some cookies for all his captors.  Why is Pippi Longstocking in this book???  Mark, be more careful with that poison!  It doesn't grow on trees, you know!

Jesus Mark, again???

Apparently Mark got the shit kicked out of him but then got saved and is getting some medical care from a VERY happy doctor and a pretty lady with a giant bowl of soup.  Perhaps they are considering kidnapping Mark?  I'm almost positive they are.

This must be the epilogue picture.  Mark is healed and he and Lucas are shirtless and fixing fences together. Why not?  When you're working closely with barbed wire, you want as much skin as possible exposed.  They are probably talking about all the kidnappers and the morality of poisoning cookies even if they are for kidnappers.  Nobody expects poison in their cookies, Mark.  Nobody.  Have the decency to use a rifle, for God's sake.  Poisoning is the woman's way of committing Old West murder.  

Well, the picture walk wasn't everything I'd hoped.  It must really suck to be a kindergartener, illiterate little psycophaths.

Two Conversations

Conversation I had yesterday with a group of third graders during their snack time:

Nick: I lost a tooth last night and I got a two-dollar bill from the tooth fairy!

Me:  Lucky!

Winnie: I tricked the tooth fairy once.  I gave her my dog's tooth.

Me: (gasp) DON'T DO THAT!  The toothfairy HATES being tricked!

Winnie:  She gave me a dollar.

Me:  Well, maybe she accepts puppy teeth as well children's teeth, but you guys better be careful.

Matt: Why?  What's the big deal?

Me:  One time my daughter found a tiny white rock that was sort of tooth-shaped and she tried to trick the tooth fairy by hiding it under her pillow.  You know what the toothfairy did when she found it?

Matt, Winnie, Nick:  What?

Me:  She PUNCHED Kira in the stomach!

Winnie:  No she didn't!

Me:  Yes, she did.  Kira learned her lesson.

Nick:  I put a rock under my pillow once and I didn't get punched.  I don't believe you.

Me:  Well, maybe she didn't punch you.  Maybe she pooped in your corner instead.

Winnie:  Oh gross!

Nick: She didn't.

Me:  Are you sure?  She's very small.

Nick:  I'm sure.  I would have noticed because my dog pooped on the floor once and I found it right away.

Me:  Look, all I'm saying is that it's not smart to mess with a magical being that collects discarded body parts.  Be careful. 

The story spread like wildfire.  I honestly didn't think it was that big a deal when the words were coming out of my mouth, but when I heard the story being whispered over and over, "The toothfairy punches you if you trick her!"  "The toothfairy POOPS in your house if she's mad!  Mrs. L. said so!", I thought maybe that wasn't the best story to tell the kids.  Oh well.  They'll forget about it.  No biggy.  Later I learned that parent/teacher conferences were that night.  Crap. 

Conversation I expect to have later today:

Mrs. G.: (the third-grade teacher I was subbing for yesterday) We had parent conferences last night.

Me:  Oh yeah,  how did they go?
 
Mrs. G.:  Nick's mom asked me about the substitute who told Nick that the toothfairy poops in their rooms.

Me:  ............ oh, heavens to Betsy!

Mrs. G.:  I didn't really know how to respond.

Me.:  Oh....wow....  I wonder where Nick would ever come up with something like that?

Mrs. G.:  He told her it was "Mrs. L." 

Me:  Oh.  Come to think of it, we did talk abou the toothfairy and how vengeful she can be.  I might have mentioned that pooping in corners was in her wheelhouse. 

Mrs. G:  Next time you talk about the toothfairy's mean streak, maybe leave out the pooping.

Me:  Noted. 

Give Mommy What She Wants Or Else

I just wanted a nice picture of my little girl in her concert attire, ready to give her first band concert in middle school.  Would she oblige?  Take a look:

What's that?  Are her eyes crossed?  Why yes they are.  I saw that and simply said, "Let's take one more," thinking it was just a happy accident.  I still wanted a good picture of her.

Oh no!  Not another accident!  Maybe I need to take her to the eye doctor?  Does she look like this all the time and I just don't notice because I think she's the most beautiful girl in the world?  What's going on?

Do you know how fast she can make this face?  It's pretty fast.  I know, I thought to myself, I'll pretend I'm adjusting the camera and snap a picture before she can do it again.

Almost!  Not quite.  At this point I was laughing HARD, and she was laughing between shots too.  Why couldn't I get a picture of her then?  She looks so adorable when she's laughing!  Next big idea, pretend I'm collapsed with laughter and snap a shot while she thinks I'm incapacitated:

No luck.  I was laughing, but at the same time getting a little ticked off because I really wanted a good picture of her!  Damn it, Kira!  Stop it!  Stand nicely!  Be good!

This time she lunged the camera with her eyes crossed.  Too bad for me.  I had to wait until the concert to get a decent picture of her:

Well Kira, if you want to ruin my mothering moments by making goofy faces, those goofy faces will go on Mommy's blog.  The joke is on you.

Miracle

Kira is on a hockey team and Mitch is her coach.  He has a new group of girls this year and they aren't quite as dedicated as the team he had last year.  When I say that, I mean that they might hesitate if he gave the order, "Team: KILL-" whereas last year something would be dead before he could say, "You didn't let me finish! I was going to say, 'Team, Kill the music! Oh dear god! Someone call the police!'"  There are pros and cons to both kinds of teams.  For example, yesterday between periods when Mitch was trying to use his two minutes of down time to talk shop with the girls by telling them to stay focused on the game, one of the girls interjected with,

"Last night I coughed so hard that a noodle came up.  And I don't even remember the last time I ate noodles!"

Mitch's Herb Brooks-ish speech was overtaken by a discussion about strange things that have come out of the girls' bodies.  Mostly things they've coughed up but also,

"I farted so loud once it made my dog bark."

Last year's team hardly ever lost a game, but they also never spent game time talking about mystery-lung-noodles or canine-startling-flatulence.  Which team would you rather be on?

Happy Birthday, Dad!

It's my dad's 50th birthday today!  Just kidding.  He's not 50.  He's 51.  Just kidding.  He's not 51.  He's 52.  Just kidding.  This could go on for a while, so I'll just stop it right now.  Anyway, happy birthday to my wonderful Father!  I meant to write something earlier but I was having some connection issues so this is a little late on his special day, but like they say, better late!  I got my dad a T-shirt for his birthday, specifically this T-shirt:

Isn't that funny?  I think so.  Do you like it, Dad?

Now I am going to run an old post that I wrote for him on Father's Day a few years ago:

My Dad: A life in 18 pictures

It's Father's Day so I am going to dedicate this post to my dad, Chuck, by telling the abbreviated story of his life in 18 pictures.

He was born a looooooooooong time ago to this beautiful 1940's hottie.  (Hi Grandma!)  This is not the best picture of him.  In fact, it doesn't look anything like him, so I'm questioning if it really is him or if my Grandma maybe had a modeling job posing with old-timey babies.  I've never heard anything about that so I'll just assume it's him.  Or it's my aunt, but you get the idea.  (Another annoying thing about babies is that they are so androgynous.)

Then he grew up.  He was SUPER skinny and he liked cords, rolling his sleeves up and standing in the front in pictures.

He was one of the first dads to wear long socks with shorts.  (He's always been a trend setter.)

Then he met this beautiful lady, who is my mother. (Hi Mom!)

She likes bananas and wearing curlers.  She used to SLEEP on those curlers!  SEXY SEXY SEXY!

They got married they say in 1969, but I suspect it was really in 1970 and sort of shot-gun-ish.  My mom explains the maternity wedding dress by saying that it was an "empire waist" and it was really "in."  Yeah, okay, whatever.  Whenever it was, my Dad sure was happy about it!

The highlight of my dad's life was having this beautiful child who grew up to be a beautiful adult.  (He also likes loooooooong sideburns.)

My dad likes hammocks.  Actually, I've never seen him lay on a hammock, but I found this picture and he looks pretty comfortable, so he must like it.  Dad, you want a hammock for Father's day?

Here he is when my sisters and I were teenagers.  You can see the aging.  Sorry, Dad.  (It was mostly Beth's fault.)

Oh, I forgot to mention that he and his beautiful wife had a couple other kids after the first one, but never hit that first high again.  Too bad!    They are okay.

My dad likes to impulse-buy Corvettes.  I look super cool in the driver's seat, but you know what?  He NEVER let me drive it.  Not even once.

We jump ahead a few years to when my dad became a grandfather.  Finally, a boy!

Then a girl who has all of his summer fashion style and sense.

She also has an affinity for looking cool in fast cars.  (but who doesn't?)

My dad is a good Grandpa.  I was going to say "great" grandpa, but then I know you would all be writing in the comments asking me, "Does he really have great grandchildren?" and I'd have to explain myself.  I suppose I could use a synonym since I am an English major.  He is an exemplary grandfather.  How's that?  Now you just think I'm snooty.

A little over a year ago his third grandchild was born.  Another girl.  She's a doll but I think someone should tell him you're not supposed to drive babies around in the bed of your truck. FYI:  they bruise like peaches.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!  I love you!

I hope you have a great day!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He has another granddaughter since I wrote that post.  Here she is:

She's alright, but those fresh blue eyes and chubby cheeks make me look a little old and mealy by comparison, right, Dad?  No?  They don't?  I'm still your favorite?  Even though you have two other daughters and three other grandchildren?  Oh, thanks Dad.  Happy Birthday, I love you!

My boyfriends

Mitch kindly pointed out to me the other day that I have a lot of "boyfriends" and is that really appropriate for a married woman?  Well, I guess I do have a lot of boyfriends, but I can't help it.  The heart wants what the heart wants.  My boyfriends are mostly on TV or in movies, historical figures, and at the dentist office; so they are kind of unreachable mainly because the TV boyfriends and historical figures were in their prime decades, and even centuries ago; the movie boyfriends are too good for me; and I have dentophobia so I rarely see my dentist boyfriend. 

Here is a (not comprehensive) list of my current boyfriends:

1.  Michael Fassbender, i.e. Mr. Rochester/Magneto

2.  George Washington

3.  Lucas McCain

4.  Sully from Dr. Quinn

5.  Magnum P.I

6.  My dentist

Just kidding.  That's not really my dentist.  I did find a picture of him when I googled his name, but I'm not going to put that up here, or his name because what if he googled himself and saw that I included him in my list of boyfriends?  I would DIE.  Besides, he likes Mitch more than he likes me anyway.  I went in when I had a toothache in the third tooth away from my front teeth, and he said that I had an abcess and I needed a root canal, or he could just pull it right then.  Like I'm really going to have a frontish tooth pulled out of my head only to leave a glaring gap that advertises how close I really am to being a total redneck.  What does he think of me?  I opted for the root canal, partly because I didn't want Cute Dentist to see me with a big gap in my smile. If he was an ugly dentist that I didn't care about I might have thought more about having the tooth pulled.  But I want Cute Dentist to think I'm classy. When Mitch goes in, Cute Dentist talks to him about teeth whitening, and lets him run the Pandora music, and spoons him in the dentist chair, and just generally loves him the way I yearn to be loved by him.  Mitch says it's because he knows that the only time I will ever go to the dentist is for emergency procedures and I will have only the bare minimum done because I HATE to have my teeth worked on so much.  Cute Dentist is probably pretty sure that I will never be in again, so why bother?  No spooning for me.

How can I love someone who is in a profession I hate so much?  Well, let me tell you.  For one thing, he is super cute which is a plus and a minus.  I don't really want cute guys to see me cry and smell the smell of my abcessed teeth, but what can I do?  On the other hand, he is a very small man with tiny little monkey hands that fit into my mouth like they were made to be there.  And he is the first dentist in my entire life who has never caused me excruciating pain.  I've even been toying with the idea of a checkup.  Yeah, that's right, going to the dentist for no good reason at all. I haven't done that since I lived with my parents and my mom would trick me into getting into the car by telling me we were going someplace fun, and then we'd end up at the dentist.  But since I've been seeing my new dentist, I've been back THREE times in the past five years or so.  That is amazingly often for me.  And it's all because of Dentist Boyfriend.

Milestones

It's Kira's 12th birthday today.  Since she has reached another milestone in her life, she thought she would give snapping her fingers another try.  You see, throughout her entire life, she has yearned, YEARNED, to snap her fingers and never could.  Meanwhile, other kids were strutting around, snapping like they didn't have a care in the world, not realizing how insensitive they were being because poor little Kira could not snap.  It was cruel.  Want to sing the Adam's Family song?  Sorry, you can't do the snaps.  Too bad.  Want to give accolades to people who read their poems at poetry slams?  Oops, sorry again, you can't snap.  You better stay home.

Well, tonight after birthday cake, she gave snapping another shot and she actually did it.  She was thrilled.  Way, way too thrilled.  Someone jokingly said that she can probably do all kinds of things now that she couldn't do before she turned twelve.  I saw her start thinking that over.  A short time later she dug out her old padlock that I bought her years ago for her gym bag.  It is a tricky one and she could never get the hang of jiggling it just right to get it open. I got her a different one and told her to throw the tricky one away but apparently she didn't. She was saving it for the day she could at last become master and commander of the tricky padlock and finally make it bend to her will! Oh, the agony and frustration she went through because she couldn't open that padlock.  Oh, the agony and frustration I went through because she couldn't open that padlock!

Tonight she was able to open the tricky padlock!  She really is full of all kinds of new abilities.  Watch out unicycle, you're next!  And after that, who knows, maybe she'll give the distributive property another whirl! Take that, MATH!