Ya Don't Say

I get the night off!

"I should have called you," apologized my boss when I arrived; "it's been so quiet all day, you really could just take tonight off, unless you'd rather work."

"No," I said, "I have a bit of a headache, and this afternoon I almost put toothpaste in my armpits."

"Why don't you go home," she suggested.

Actually it wouldn't even be so bad if I hadn't been awakened at the crack of noon (having gone to bed at 7) by Anna's teacher, calling to tell me that oh by the way school was closing early to avoid anyone having to deal with hurricane traffic (here?) so could I please come pick her up immediately, she was waiting. I arrived, ten minutes later, out of breath, to find that Anna had been put to work cleaning up the classroom. "Sorry I'm late," I said, "I worked 9pm last night to 6am today."

Like she cared. "Well, you should come see us more often," sang the teacher as we left. "And don't do any traveling this weekend! There's a hurricane!"

What? Where?!

I hope it was just because they didn't need me that I got sent home tonight. Last night, craving a caffeine kick (despite being the only woman in a room full of men, which generally keeps me on my toes; but they were all pretty busy) I grabbed my wallet out of my backpack and ran downstairs for a Coke. I stopped by my own desk for a few things, so I was gone a good ten or fifteen minutes. And when I got back, I saw that the vanilla-flavored condom I have been carrying around ever since it was tossed to me at the Gay Pride Parade in 2007 was perched in plain sight in the splayed-open pocket of my backpack.

I'm not sure it's even possible to coordinate emergency response efforts while working from home.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

“What would you like to order?” Anna asks me, proffering an alarmingly-colored cheeseburger made of modeling clay.

Eric got the clay for Christmas, and the only reason we still have any is because our house isn’t carpeted. It’s not easy to grind modeling clay into a hardwood floor. Don’t think my kids haven’t tried.

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur, because I’m sort of engrossed in a computer game. But she’s insistent. “How many plops of mustard do you want on your hot dog?”

“Um. Two,” I tell her, distractedly, because the Snoods are about to turn into a bunch of skulls and crush me.

“I think I’ll give you three,” she says. “Here you go!” She hands me a mottled yellow, vaguely hot-dog-shaped object. I miss my shot and lose my game. “What would you like to order now?” she asks.

“Honestly, Anna!” I exclaim. “I’d just like to be left alone.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m sorry,” she says politely. “We don’t offer that here.”

Cold-Weather Friends

The other cats are hanging out on the dryer, but Anna is softer.

Sneezing Party

Conversations with Anna can start out as a knock-knock joke and end up as a roomful of naked Muppets with severe sinus congestion.

Apparently not all of my genes are recessive.

"Knock, knock," said Anna.

"Who's there?" I asked.

"Aaahhtch," she said.

"Aaahhtch who?" I asked.

Anna had to stop and think about this for a while. "What's the word?" she asked me.

"Gesundheit?" I suggested helpfully.

"Yeah! That one! Welcome to the sneezing party!" laughed Anna.

"That," I could not help observing, "does not sound like a very fun party."

"There are lots of flowers around!" she went on. "And everybody's allergic to them! So everybody is sneezing! All the time! Sneezing into all the food and all the drinks! Like this!" She demonstrates with her hands, puppetlike, sneezing repeatedly.

"Remind me," I said, "not to go to this party."

"Too late!" says Anna. "You're already there!"

Story of my life, I tell you what.

Anna's Hypothetical Situation Game

Anna wants to play a game. "I'll say a question," she tells me, "and you say the answer."

And it goes something like this:

Anna: "If cats wore shoes..."

Beth: "Their feet would hurt."

Anna: "Good answer! Now it's your turn!"

Beth: "If cats didn't have fur..."

Anna: "Not all cats do have fur!"

Beth: "That's right!"

Anna: "If cats live in a box..."

Beth: "They try to open it up so they can escape!"

Anna: "Wrong answer! They would die."

Beth: "Oh no! Okay, if cats want to go outside..."

Anna: "They would want to go back inside later."

Beth: "Very good! Dingdingding!"

Anna: "If a dog eats a moose..."

Beth: "It would be so full it wouldn't even want to eat a mint afterwards."

Anna: "Wrong! It would want to sleep, because it would have a tummyache, and it would want to sleep so that later it could poop. Poop the whole thing out at once!"

Beth: "D'oh! If snakes were on a plane..."

Anna: "People would get eaten!"

Beth: "And then what would happen?"

Anna: "Then they would die."

Beth: "Would there be a movie?"

Anna: "Yes!!! If dogs could talk..."

Beth: "They would say 'Bark! Bark! Bark bark bark!'"

Anna: "No. They would say, 'Hi. Hi. Hi hi hi.' I meant talking like people."

Beth: "If garden slugs were delicious..."

Anna: "Everybody would want to eat them!"

Beth: "But what if they still looked like big boogers and left slime trails everywhere?"

Anna: "Maybe they were just crawling around there and lost their trail and then it was crawling around a tomato and it tasted like tomato! Then they would eat it. Yum yum! Remember, they wouldn't live if someboedy was 'Ung-a. Ung-a. Unga. Unga.' They wouldn't live if somebody was chomping with their teeth."

(You've got to admit, she has a point there.)

Anna: "Mkay. Three more left to do. If dirt tasted like chocolate..."

Beth: "Would it have lots of calories?"

Anna: "No, it tasted like dark chocolate, and the dirt would be made out of chocolate. Ooh! The dirt would be made out of dark chocolate!"

Beth: "Ummm... Would it have bugs in it?"

Anna: "No. No bugs. Only bugs made out of candy would be in the chocolate dirt."

Beth: "Well, I'd eat it!"

Anna: "Whee!" (jumps on bed)

I like games where everybody wins.

Saturday Ramblings

I swear, I can quit blogging anytime I want.

Last night baby Anna climbed into bed with me and snuggled up close. She stroked my arm. "You have smooth skin, Mommy," she said. "Like a hot dog."

My skin is also delicious, apparently, as I'm being eaten alive. Still, it's a perfect day for sitting on the front steps with the plants, an entirely ineffectual citronella candle, and my iBook. Margie's moving over the next couple of weeks and I'm plant-sitting for her. Her plants are much cooler than mine.

If mosquitoes are so repelled by citronella, how come I find drowned ones in the melted wax? Remind me not to sit out here in daisy dukes anymore. I'm going to be incredibly itchy in some really embarrassing places tomorrow.

It's also a perfect day for installing my happy new hood ornament.