i wonder if my parents felt the same way when i went to stay with someone for a few days.

yeah, i miss them…. but not THAT much!

it’s amazing. people say that being a parent changes everything, for me it was only the little things. today i was able to sit in the bath for a whole half hour with no interruptions. i was able to slowly and deliberately shave my legs, and following that i was able to accurately assess and implement proper skin care procedures.

tonight i’ll be going out to dinner, without having to pick up food from the floor, or shush members of my table repeatedly. i can wear makeup, and it will stay perfect unless i change it myself. i’ll also be able to leave the entertainment center door open without fear of little hands… and heck, i’ll even be able to leave my game console plugged in in the middle of the floor for days.

i’ll even be able to have sex without the glow of a baby monitor next to my head, or the constant worry that someone will wake up crying and ruin the moment.

tomorrow i’ll grab my keys and purse and head down to the coffeehouse without prior notice or preparations. i may even be able to go see a movie, or go to a shop that doesn’t have shopping carts in the front. i can leave knives on the kitchen table. let’s go for broke! i can even run with scissors if i wanted to!

but only until sunday.

http://getreligion.typepad.com/getreligion/2004/04/prince_as_jw_ro.html

wierd. that’s all i have to say.

trying the comment posting moderation in a more lenient way. hopefully y’all’s comments won’t be banned automatically. sorry about that. try one more time to post comments, to this post. i’ll be on the lookout.

8|1|2

http://www.nowaroniran.com/archives/000054.php

i know we’re tapped out. i know we’re digging ourselves into a quagmire. i know we think we’re smart enough not to get into this kind of situation again. *i* know, *you* know, but Our Great Leader doesn’t seem to know.

he makes me think of the South Park characterizations of Hussein. “what? invade iran? no way guy, you need a rest…. oh, look! nukes! by golly they have nukes!…no, we’re not preparing to invade iran, jeez guy, you need a rest.”

well, now all we need is some grand reason to do it, and it starts all over again. how about israel pitting us against iran for whatever reason. we’re just that gullible. well, *we* (as in you and me) aren’t. but Our Great Leader is. and so too fox news watching Joe Sixpack. ooh, ooh, i have a good one: Oil. yeah! oops, i mean, uh, terr-ism, yeah, that’s it. i didn’t say oil, you need a rest. oh! quick! look over there! NASCAR! (whew, that was close…) nothing to see here. move along.

seriously, though:

so yesterday i found a sippy cup behind the couch that had been missing for at least a month. the elusive cup had been dumped with milk in it. feeling unprepared to open it for cleaning i left it in the sink. i knew that milk wasn’t supposed to be completely solid, based on my previous experience in my household job as sippy cup/bottle Recon Agent when my brother was the same age as the girls are now. that was an easier job then because i could let my nose do the dirty work, now sippy cups are gasketed so’s not to leak, consequently they don’t emit smell either. while i don’t have the tidiest house on the block by far, i do tend to keep the important bits clean, and had this vigilante sippy cup emitted a smell, i would have detected it.

what really got me was that the milk wasn’t colored funny, it was pure white, and there was no standing liquid separated from the curdling as i had come to recognise in my experience as “this is gonna stink”. but on an up note, i think i know now where Feta cheese comes from. this stuff was a dead ringer for Feta, and i already can’t stand that stuff. i gave it a hot water and garbage disposal-related death, followed by a chaser of bleach. for at least an hour after that i couldn’t get the smell out of my fingers, even with soap, of the sippy cup’s treasure. you have to touch it a little nowadays, you see, because you have to remove the gasket from the lid before you can wash it.

so i’m thinking, somewhere on the mediterranean there is a very large house with many children under two (outnumbering the women who work there 2:1) who spend their days playing in a huge room full of couches pushed up against walls… where they have to meet their quota of at least 5 sippy cups of milk deposited behind said couches per day. under the couches must be some form of trap-door where the sippy cups go down into a cellar or some such place to ferment for at least a week. then factory workers with clothespins on their noses open the sippy cups and dump the contents into pre-printed packages to ship around the world to sell at high prices.

so, the next time you’re eating a salad with feta on it, think about the poor people who had to open rancid sippy-cups to send you the cheese that (for some god-forsaken reason) makes people feel all fancy-pants.

long story short: Nass-Tee.

in other news, while i do menial chores during the day i tend to put my brain in auto-thought generation to keep me amused, and this is today’s jewel:

“i don’t care if you ARE William Shatner, you don’t abuse pilgrims with forklift potatoes.”

but to be fair, here’s some more randomized goodness from R. Quan’s photography:

11|1|2