Back from Disney

Fun times, of course.

But man, little things can sure grate.

I don't know at what age kids fathom the secrets of drinking with a straw. In case you haven't learned yet, either, DON'T tilt the cup when your straw is sucking air but you suspect more drink to be had.

Well, Coco really enjoys the tactile sensation of pushing in the little pop-up indentational identifiers on the lids of soda cups. His drinks are always all four somewhat contradictory options. Unfortunately he depresses them before taking a sip which occasionally results in a spill. He also really dislikes spilled cold drinks on his pants. So now he has two new Mickey shorts, thanks to the generous concession stand employees.

I wonder if they get a percentage on the clothing sales. "Tell them Melissa from Dayton, OH sent you! And have a magical day!"

behind again

It's tough to keep up with the blogging on vacation days because the kids always want a piece of the computer. Sorry. I'll do my best.

Meanwhile we're in the middle of getting ready for our trip to Disneyworld with the grandparents. Whoo!

Yesterday's installment included three haircuts. Juno, our hairdresser/stylist snipped his finger in the process. Luckily my dad-bag comes not only with Nintendo DSs but also with band-aids, so we were good to go.

Today's installment involves the storage unit and picking up some more summer clothes. Also dropping off some winter items. I think we won't need snow pants in 80-degree weather, but you never know.

And of course the pool. Let's not forget the pool.

Meanwhile the kids are percolating on the couch and can't wait to get packing. Only four more days, but who's counting?

baseball and beyond

We saw a minor league game last night. The Brooklyn Cyclones (our team) beat the TriCity somethingorothers (Tiger, I think, though don't ask me what three cities make up the TriCity home base). In the last inning, "we" were trailing by a run. While Madge and I were getting ice cream there was a lead-off double - jeez, I hope I'm using these brand new terms correctly - and after the bases got loaded and a guy ran in on a base hit, the number 40 dude smacked the ball over the outfielder and against the fence and that was it.

Whooo! Let's go Cyclones! clap clap clapclapclap.

The girls went home because they were wiped out, but Coco (who was wiped out too but is a sucker for late night activities) and I (merely a sucker) stayed for the fireworks. The stadium passed the time by playing a kind of beach ball volleyball, which Coco enjoyed a little too much. At first he was playing on my shoulders and then he wanted down and started running around the stands. Luckily, I reeled him in for the fireworks.

On the subway ride home, he was drowsy, but refused to fall asleep because he wanted to make sure he'd get his pjs put on when we got home. Go figure.

Two women, approaching thirty, were standing near us and one of them said, "mumble mumble gorgeous eyes." I said, "He does. Yes." She said, "No, you. You have gorgeous eyes."

Oh.

So I said, "Thanks. Too bad you can't see my ass from there."

No. Of course not.

I said, "Thank you" and left it at that. She had one of those empty mega-drink containers from Coney Island and I think it was full when she originally purchased it, so that may have influenced her judgment. Not of my eyes, of course, just of the appropriateness of her endeavor.

gummy

The Summer Hit of 2009. For us. For others it may have been the hit of 2007.

Coco Tuesday

Hm.

The schedule gets thrown for a loop during vacation time. We'll see how I can keep up.

I don't really remember what fantastic things happened on Tuesday. We went to the pool, I know that. Got rained out. Still had fun, though.

Yesterday we went to the pool again. Surprise, surprise. Coco doesn't want to walk home in his wet swimsuit, so he brings a change of clothes, but for some reason he doesn't want to change where everyone can see him so he goes to a stall and does it there. Fair enough.

When we got out of the pool yesterday, there was a guy in the showers - cold showers - washing himself, without any clothes on. I would find this unusual, but here certain people swim with shirts on. I don't think it's a religious thing. I dare say it's a socio-ethno-economic thing.

One guy even rolled his eyes at me, indicating, you know, "Pffft. Some people."

So I said, "What, did you see something you don't have?"

No, I didn't get punched. But he was indignant and said that his little nephew didn't need to see that.

I'm confused. Couldn't one just look away?

(Admittedly, it would have been difficult, because the physique of this guy had the bizarre appeal of a three-car pileup, but still.)

We'll see what exciting stories arise at the pool today.

Madge Monday

Here's a song I've transcribed recently. No big deal because songs like this just linger on I and IV with the occasional V, and this one has the gimmicky I - III7 - IV - I in the B section.

The lyrics:

I was dancin' with my darlin' to the Tennessee Waltz

When an old friend I happened to see.

I introduced her* to my loved one and while they were dancin'

My friend stole my sweetheart from me.

I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz

Now I know just how much I have lost.

Yes I lost my little darlin' the night they were playing

The beautiful Tennessee Waltz.

* I'm so flexible, I changed it to "him" when I sing it. Or does that make me inflexible in a different way?

Madge started singing along, but commented on how I only like sad songs.

Well, duh. Those are the only good ones, right?

So I said, "Tell me a good happy song. There aren't any."

But she zinged me with, "I'm a Barbie Girl in a Barbie world."

Madge: 870,046 - Daddy:2

last pre-kids-at-home day

Yesterday, Thursday, was my last day before the summer without the kids at home full time.

It wasn't supposed to be, but Coco has a fever today.

I took advantage of that day by getting my teeth cleaned. (Is it an insult or compliment if the dentist says she might be able to let me be the test subject for a new kind of bleach?)

Then I got some new clothes (psst, don't tell).

And finally had lunch at a bar on Prince Street. The bartender was overly flirtatious and friendly and inquisitive and pushy. He exhibited none of these characteristics to me, personally, probably because I just sat down to read and ignored him - wait; maybe that's why my beer was flat. But listening to and surreptitiously watching him I realized he was revelling in his inoffical role as "New York City Charm" to all the tourists because he always brought out the phrase, "so, where are you from?" followed by a tenuous connection to a more-or-less current news story. Good times.

The biggest Wow-moment for me, though, was when a family of three came in. Dad: short, balding, glasses. Mom: about the same size, poorly cut and colored hair. Son: probably 12.

The bartender established that they were from Finland and promptly had nothing to say. Finland stays out of the news, I think.

The man wanted a local draft (or draught, rauther) beer and the bartender poured him a taste of something (New York City Charm). The man approved and ordered a glass. The mom and son sat at a table while the pocket Napoleon had his beer at the bar. Then he paid and they all left.

What the...?!?

piquenique

Yesterday was the fourth grade picnic. Apparently something happens between the third grade picnic and the fourth grade picnic that makes the kids more independent and less willing or desirous of adult interaction. This is a good thing in general, I know, but I'm not quite at the stage of whipping out a book at one of these events and just kind of disappearing.

Don't get me wrong, I managed to bully my way into a soccer game. But before that, Madge kept coming over and asking if I was okay since I was just standing there, watching. Sweet kid.

I need to be aware of this transition, though. I think it marks the point where the kids are going to actively avoid adults in order to stay out of trouble.

Because we all know: as long as you're not caught, you're not in trouble.

Coco Tuesday

This morning was the Kindergarten end-of-year celebration. The teacher is fantastic. I'm going to miss him a lot. But we can always stop by to see him next year. Graduates of his class do it all the time. He's a popular guy.

The activities of the celebration were songs and poems. They sang songs together and then read individual poems. The types of poems were: "I remember," "Pretend you're a," and more free-form pieces. Good times. The crowd favorites were a piece about the unborn baby in a mom's tummy and a piece about how beautiful a mommy is. Aaaah. Talk about playing to the audience.

Okay, don't read past here if you want to keep your good-ish opinion of me.

Still with me? Figures.

There was a moment when a girl in the class was questioning the teacher about his handling of the microphone between readings.

(Oh, yes, the event was mic-ed, though the kids didn't quite understand the principle of speaking intelligibly into the mic. "Whoooo! Hee, hee. Hi. mbllmib by mubblemeep. unglemung muh neebolphrip. noopah mmMMmmoobah. Whoooo!")

She was badgering him with, "Why are you doing it like this? ... Why not...?"

A mom in front of me was very enthusiatic and said, "Oh, she's good. When she's older she's going to make a great - "

And in the break where she was trying to figure out the right profession - producer, executive, manager, I don't remember which - my mind blurted,

" - ex-wife. She's going to make a fantastic ex-wife."

Luckily my mouth didn't kick in.

(I'm glad that some of you weren't here, because I would have been too tempted. You know who you are. To twist Ogden Nash: I know I'm incorrigible, so I don't need you to incorrige me.)

Madge Monday

End of school year and art is coming home, which means we need to rethink our gallery space and maybe lower the prices on some of the older items.

Inky Squiggle with Mermaid Tail and Wings, tentatively entitled "I Have Mastered All The Elements, Suckas!" 2007 (Marker on Paper 8 1/2" x 11") now will go for only $12,500. Pick it up while supplies last.

One of the things she brought home was a sculpture - picture coming soon, hold your horses - which she thinks is ugly. Her friends say it's bad, too.

I gave her a watered-down version of art-as-mirror vs. art-as-lamp and said that her sculpture, to me (and Julie) is more of a lamp. I think she understood what I was going for.

And trust me, the thing is pretty awesome. It even had an accident on the way home and has involuntarily become a partial bobble-head. Ups the price, of course.

Father's Day

Close call.

The day was great, of course. Got some hand-drawn cards from the kids. Breakfast in bed.

On our way home from lunch out, though, we walked by a cat-adoption van, and I almost wound up with a little grey feisty fuzzball of a kitten with wacky eyes just crying out for me to play and cuddle and...

Close call again.

Coco Tuesday

At transitional moments such as getting ready for school or bed, Coco is still picking little fights that escalate to tears. Grr, grr.

I've been managing things to start the processes earlier in order to keep our schedule.

Julie suggests asking him what might be going on.

She's a freaking genius! Love her!

(I'm so close to the thing that this simple strategy hadn't occurred to me.)

Madge Monday

Today's half day was quite a success. Half day of school, that is.

(Maybe we parents should get roll-over days for these and then send our kids to school on weekends of our choice. Oh, or better yet, on evenings when we can't find babysitters. I think I'm on to something there. You guys work out the details.)

Anyway, Coco had a playdate set up so Madge and I went home, made sandwiches and a salad and watched some Seinfeld episodes before heading off to the big library where we could spend some time in the stacks without chasing/entertaining the pre-reader.

The only downside was that the library was quite full with high school kids socializing. But once you got away from the computers and went to the actual printed matter they were no longer to be seen. Only heard.

Still had fun though. And, on the way home, I even let her read while walking.

Photojournalism

Madge's class has a photo-essay assignment. They each got a disposable camera and are supposed to be snapping away, focusing on a self-assigned theme. Madge's theme is "How I Feel About My Dad."

This is flattering and sweet, until I catch her snapping pictures of the inside of the catbox.

Why did it take me so long

To get introduced to this site?

http://oldjewstellingjokes.com/

Got some catching up to do.

Coco Tuesday

Half days at school get pretty crazy around here. Disgruntled parents frantically juggling their schedules and amped up kiddies excited about a quasi-vacation.

We had some lunch and rented Star Trek episodes (the first appearance of Khan) and then had soccer later in the afternoon. Not a bad day except for the unpredictable weather. It came down HARD this morning. Right as we were about to leave the sky turned from 8:15 am in Brooklyn to 10:45 pm in Krakow. Weird.

When we went to lunch I let Coco go to the bathroom on his own because we had already gone together and he just wanted to go rearrange some things.

"Why do you need to go again? Do you just want to wash your hands?"

"Noo-wuh. My peenuss feels like its stuck to my pants."

"Oh, go ahead."

The operation took a while and I went over to listen at the door two or three times. When he finally emerged he looked relieved and said he felt like he might never have gotten out of there. Apparently his hands, after washing, were too slippery on the door handle. I recommended using a paper towel on the handle next time.

He didn't get cranky but took it stride. "Oh, good idea, Daddy."

Phew.

Madge Followup

She actually asked me for my Collected Shakespeare and took it to bed with her. She started with Romeo and Juliet. We'll see how she likes it.

Quick question to you: Montague, Capulet - which of these is Juliet's surname?

(I had to look it up, too.)

Madge Monday

Apparently she had a growth spurt. When she measured herself last week, she was shorter than two of her friends; this week, taller. Couldn't be a mistake in measuring, of course.

Still, she's just whizzing right along. She had a rather cranky moment when she was surprised by the fact of a Coco playdate, but her growth-spurty hunger may have had something to do with it, too.

The playdate turned out fine. Madge and I hung out while Coco and his friend played.

Tonight she picked up my collection of Shakespeare's complete plays (told you I was reading Ricky III) and read some of Henry V aloud (quite well, I might add) and said, "Oh, I really need to read these."

Sheesh.

But, hey, we may have to structure our summer activities around this. Who knows. I'll keep you posted.

field trip without kids

Went to have lunch with our friend Taz today in Manhattan. He's working on the stained glass reatoration in the St. Thomas church on 5th Ave. http://www.saintthomaschurch.org/glass.html

He had lured me with a tour of the actual construction, but then realized they were too busy to show me around today, so we just had lunch, which was tons of fun, too. The church is quite lovely and the glass -at least from what I could see meandering through the pews - is crazy.

I didn't write it down, but there was a "Prayer to Our Lady of Fifth Avenue" attached to a statue.

Now, if you'd asked me before today about such a prayer, I would have said it's probably a song by Leonard Cohen.

Could still be, for all I know.

fun read

I just got reminded why I stay away from mysteries: they suck me in and don't let me go until the laundry piles up, the kids are late for school, and the dishes rebel and wash themselves (I wish).

The reminder came in the form of a book I grabbed off the "Assignments" shelf in the library. It's a handy-dandy shelf that has multiple paperback (subway-handy) copies of Classics (and the occasional "hunh"). The cover is quite lame, if you ask me, but the story, well...

It's about an inspector who gets laid up in a hospital and looks at a picture (of a painting) of Richard III and decides Ricky doesn't look like the Monster history makes him out to be.

What makes the book so super-fun is that he crossexamines people's inadequate knowledge of hearsay history and discovers loads of unquestioned contradictions. Then he applies the same investigator's logic to historical sources. Where are the breaks in the routine? Who stands to gain?

Now I'll go reread Shakespeare's Richard III, and excellent double-feature, I think.

Oh, yes, and the book I read is called The Daughter of Time and is by Josephine Tey.

oops

Hee, hee.

I am merrily twittering away, as is my wont. And, looking for something funny to say, I write up some plans of Tazwell's and mine, namely so see something at the NYPhil. Taz calls it: NYPhil with PhillyPhil. They're sold out, though, so he suggests scalping or sneaking in. No blood, no foul.

This is my tweet:

College friend is in town, we're thinking of sneaking into a sold-out show. The difference, 15 yrs older, we're aiming for the NY Phil.

But, heh, it turns out that NYPhil is the twitter account of the New York Philharmonic (smart folks) and this is the response:

@PGoedi Shall we alert the ushers to be on the lookout? ;)

Some might say, "Busted!"

I smell a challenge.

(I love this city.)

Coco Follow

He recently said that he likes living in New York because you're free in New York.

"Free in what sense, Coco?"

"You're free to eat pizza not the polite way."

Madge Monday

Madge has finished reading Coraline aloud to Coco for night-night time. He has requested Harry Potter I as his next book and she can't wait. But it seems I've been retired from the preliminaries and now only come in for the knock-out.

a bit of gardel

I read somewhere that they say in Argentina that his voice gets better every year.

I'd agree.

Field trips

I've also let myself be roped in for exta Kindergarten volunteering. I had signed up for Art. Then, when the Williamsburg Bridge trip was offered up, I signed up for it too; it happens to be in the same week. On top of that a museum trip was scheduled on short notice and, since there were no volunteers, I said I'd go.

I wonder if some of the parents know how irritati--

Hm. I'll stop there. They probably know.

Lunch

Met Madge for lunch today. I wanted to yesterday, but sometimes surprises backfire, as when she has homework hall and I just stand there, waiting. Wie bestellt und nicht abgeholt - like ordered and not picked up.

But today it worked and she was pleasantly surprised. We had some sushi followed by a justly uneaten chocolate croissant - bleh.

The dompany was nice. And calmer than usual. She's been quick to anger lately, especially by Coco, who is overly apologetic for no real reason other than that he's figuring out how to work the I'm-sorries and the thank-yous to his best advantage. Overuse of I'm-sorry is backfiring, though.

We are all tired of the endless apologies for nothing specific.

wordy word word

Ran across meretricious. It sounds like merit but doesn't really mean the same. (Meretricious is false and gaudy and deceiving. Merit isn't.) This kind of thing confuses me.

But, ahaa! the root for both is merere (I'd put a line over the second E but don't know how, in Blogger), a Latin word meaning "to earn." And meretricious comes from meretrix, a female earner: a prostitute.

That's the patriarchy at work, ladies and gentlemen.

Now I'm just keeping my ears open on the subway and bus to hear the name Meretricia.

It won't take long, I'm sure.

Coco Tuesday

We had a picnic yesterday in the park along with two or three other people who had the same idea on a Memorial Day. I know you've never thought of it, but you might try celebrating the beginning of the summer season with an outdoor meal. I'm sure you'll find a nic spot if you show up at 5:3o am.

We found a nice spot right next to a little pile of doggie doo. It was already congealed, so this was prime real estate.

And we met some good friends, so our outing was great.

One of these friends says that she is waiting for Coco to turn eighteen so she can finally marry him. He likes her, too.

Yesterday he asked her, "Are you into Transformers?"

She thought he was trying to talk to her about toys he likes, but I - as an awkward male - know different: he was prepping her to ask her to the movies when Transformers II comes out.

kiss kiss

In the mornings, on the way to school, Madge gets dropped off first, then Coco (because Madge goes in the back and I walk Coco to his room).

Usually I give Madge a peck on the lips and so does Coco and we're off.

Lately Madge has been turning Coco's head down and giving him a kiss on the forehead. This does not please the young lad. He wants his Madge-kiss.

I have occasionally overheard friends of hers say "ew" (as fourth-graders will) when she has given her little brother a kiss, so I figured this was the reason and have tried to work on the Coco-damage-control.

But Julie found out it's because Madge finds that a peck on Coco's lips involves too much extraneous runny and crusty material, as six-year-old lips are wont to collect.

So now he wipes super-carefully. She's not satisfied, but it's a start.

always a good thing

right?

I mean, bad versions abound, but still, who doesn't love a blue sky?

What are we advertising?

Sending out this kind of stuff is what the internet was made for. I'm sure of it.

languid wednesday

Lovely weather, nice day. Coco had a field trip today, Madge has one tomorrow. This afternoon there was a double playdate, meaning Madge did homework with a friend and Coco did his homework with a friend. Madge's homework involved paper and pencil and words and numbers, Coco's involved action figures and "pshchcht" and "aaaah."
My homework involved Werder Bremen losing to Shaktar Donesk (or however it's spelled).
All in all, a successful afternoon.
Oh, yes, some laudry got cleaner, too, somehow.
And we all miss Julie.

Coco Tuesday

Okay, so my titles are a bit off this week.
Madge had her first band concert today. What an afternoon. Because she wanted her best friend there, her friend got to come over after school and accompany us to Coco's soccer class.
After soccer we walked Madge to school, which got a little nerve-wracking for her because the church bell rang six o'clock (the time she was supposed to be there) and we were still ACROSS THE STREET from school. Then matters got worse because the front door was locked.
ohboyohboyohboyohboyohboy
We walked around school and shouted through some windows and by the time we got back to the front we managed to knock loudly enough for the security guard to open up. Madge wiped her tears, took her instruments, and went in.
Coco, Madge's friend, and I went for pizza.
The concert was great, of course.
And terrible, of course.
It all depends on what you want out of a fourth- and fifth-grade band concert.
Coco loved it (even though he got a bit tired). The friend loved it.
Most importantly, Madge loved it and thought the fifth graders were great and wants to do it again next year.

Madge Monday

Madge, when asked, usually says she wants to be a teacher when she grows up. Understandable. Coco one-upped it last week by saying he wants to be a principal.
What? Really? What kid says that?
I have no explanation other than that he wanted to best his older sister.
We then asked him if he'd ever been to the principal's office. Because, you never know.
No, was the answer. He is, after all, only in Kindergarten. But apparently a kid in his class did get sent. Hoo boy. I sense a promising future.
Anyway.
This afternoon, they were playing school and I chose the role of principal, thinking I could just rest while they did their class thing. But, no, there was a crisis right away. Two crises, those stinkers. One involved a cockroach, the other an injury.
Luckily I've already done my first level improv class, so I delegated the cockroach to the janitor-cat and the injury to the nurses office. Problem solved, begin the nap.
Maybe I want to be a principal when I grow up.

New term - a good one

Coco has a scab on his hip bone. I'm not exactly sure how it happened, I think a rug burn at school. But he noticed the scab while getting dressed this morning and said, "Oh look. Good. A body band-aid."

competing songs in my head

I have a playlist on my iPod that I've named "Can't Not Sing." Songs like this are prominent there. (Needless to say, this can be quite embarrassing for people around me - not for me, though, I'm immune. The kids are immune, too - how much longer?)



I think that's why I listen to so many songs in Spanish and Portuguese, because, not knowing the words, I'm not as tempted to sing along. I may have to learn the words to this one, though. Man, her voice kicks butt!

flying cow

Coco's class wrote counting books today. On the page for the number nine, he drew cows. (Each of the cows has three legs - maybe he senses some divisibility there, I don't know.) One of the cows' legs are splayed backwards, all the others point down. I didn't ask him about it because he's been sensitive of criticism lately, but he volunteered that this cow is flying "Like in Monty Python with those baby people ["run away!"] and the fake big rabbit."
My work is done. (The cow appears at 1:55 in the clip below.)

Coco Tuesday

First soccer class today. Turns out Coco was the only one signed up, so it's a one-on-one class. But since Madge - who didn't want to go because, well, just because - got interested in playing, too, the class got bigger. Coco didn't mind her joining. I don't know whether it even occurred to him to mind. The benefit for me is that I sort of got a gift with purchase there. We'll see what happens next week.
In general he's the playdate king this week and she's a royal grump about it. Tomorrow should be better but on Thursday there's a little dude coming over whom she is disinclined to like. Oh, well. We'll figure it out.

Madge Monday

I've heard that people are missing the kid updates. Oops.
Yesterday, you may have heard, was Mother's Day. It was the first one for which Madge bought something for Mommy with her own money. I was going to help out financially but realized that might not make it as meaningful to either of the parties involved. And this way I didn't have any input, really, in what the gift was. (It was a plastic chalice with fake flowers around the base. A perfect kind of Mother's Day gift just as an eggshell omelet is a perfect Mother's Day breakfast.)
And then the girls had a pedicure, too.

I'm jealous

The first minute of this genius. The rest is good, too, of course, and oddly prescient, but the opening is so simple and (in retrospect) obvious, it just makes me say "why couldn't I have thought of that?" (Please refrain from answering this question, it is rhetorical.)
Enjoy:

Good Eye

I'm so proud of Madge for spotting this. Even though she interrupted Mommy to point this out, I think her powers of observation have jumped up a level. Viz. the irony in this image.

The ad on top says: Together, Building a Healthier Community.

The bottom ad says: Divorce $399. Spouse's Signature Not Needed.

quick review

Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder
(Mother Courage and Her Children)

First performed in Zurich in 1939 for an audience of pacifist and anti-fascist German expatriates, the play is a praise song of sending children to their deaths.
Of course not. Silly. What do you expect from Brecht?
The setting is the 30-Year war (17th Century, Europeans killing each other in order to decide which cut of clerical dress represents a more direct line to God).
The characters are not one-, but two-dimensional, not bad for Mr. Didactic. The mother (I first heard of Niobe in this context: look her up and impress your friends!) is also a war-profiteering capitalist; the cook is also a womanizer; the preacher is also a coward; the grown children she loses have less depth: Strong, Honest, and Innocent.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Brecht and enjoy the occasional preachiness. And slogans like

Peace is sloppy, only war creates order.

Or

Wherever there are great virtues, it only proves that something is rotten.

always find a willing audience in me.
And I can't find the quote right now, but there was also a bit where the preacher said that Jesus first multiplied the loaves and the wine and then taught brotherly love because it’s easier to love your neighbor on a full stomach. All classic Brechtian ideas which appeal to the Undergrad Idealist in me.
A worthwhile read, but it doesn’t oust the Three-Penny Opera as my favorite.

outer space

We went to Mars 2112 last night. It's a themed restaurant. Guess the theme.
You get in a spaceship that bounces and squeaks and rattles like a school bus and when you're done, you're in Mars. The kids, especially Coco, loved it. Now he selflessly thinks we should take Mommy there on Mother's Day. And every ten minutes or so he suggests someone else who needs to come visit us because I told him we can't just go there any old day, it needs to be a special occasion.
So, when you come visit us, be prepared for some overpriced average burgers in a place with a great, albeit low-gravity (wacka-wacka), atmosphere.

afternoon fun

I forgot to mention about the playdate...
Because of grade recess, I picked up Madge first, on the way to get Coco. A rare occurrence.
When his classroom opened and we went in, he asked to have a playdate with a friend, the kid who cries more than I'm comfortable with. Only in class, though, so playdates are okay.
I said okay and told Madge about it. She said, "That's not the 'Ow, my wiener' kid, is it?"
I said no, and the playdate was greenlighted.

The "Ow, my wiener" kid needs explanation, I know. Apparently he smacks himself in his privates and then shouts, "Ow, my wieeeeeener," to the delight of his friends.
They're so precocious nowadays. I don't think I started using crotchal pain as a conversational stimulus until my mid-twenties.

what happened to yesterday?

Things just got away from me, I guess. Between working at the Coop and Family Night at school (and limericks and basketball playoffs), I didn't get around to keeping Julie updated. Here you go:
I had my Coop shift and we went to Family Night at school.
Today we played board games. Madge and Coco played Monopoly before school and picked up where they left off after a playdate this afternoon and then packed it in when they got bored.
I wish modern capitalism - especially the kind based on real-estate greed - could be taken care of in the same way.
Oddly enough, Madge skipped her reading homework today (she has accumulated homework passes, so it doesn't really matter) because she was busy reading things I brought back from the library.
How meta.

no TV update

Last night, Coco dreamed that Madge was watching TV.
This upset him.
So I said I'm giving her a time-out in his dreams tonight.
Problem solved.

oops, no notes

Of course we did stuff today, but I wasn't keeping track. No super cuteness that needed to be written down. A special treat was that we got to talk to Julie on the phone - thanks, Caroline, for lending Julie your phone!
Coco made up some French sounding stuff ("bonzoo") on the phone, which was confusing to all parties involved. Then he wrote a note which we had to put in an envelope. I'm glad I could convince him not to send it off or it would probably be lost.
Oh, yes. No TV week. I got some markers today. The smelly kind. You know, not the intoxicating ones, but the ones that smell like fake fruit. Sure enough, the pink one made Madge think of penicillin. But we have some new drawings on the wall now.
No, we didn't color the walls.

party game

http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/hillary_clinton_launches?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter

This could easily become a warm-up game for your trainers, Julie, or just for anyone who's a little bored.

Take a celebrity and launch a fragrance line (or makeup line) around them.

From Orlando Bloom (objectively crisp, wispy top-notes of sandalwood to a scruffy undertone of peat moss, this fragrance is a pick-me-up for those under sixteeen and those over thirty-seven) to Judy Blume (play-do and musty books combine to a mischievous alliance of insouciant intrigue; think jelly donut with a kick of mustard), this could be hours of fun.

Try Caroline Kennedy, Salman Rushdie, Pete(r) Doherty, Whoopi Goldberg.

Or others of your choosing.

lloraras

It's a song the salsa band I was in (long time ago) played. The lick repeats a lot: bah, bibiduda, dap-DAA, duh da dwee dap dee dum
Anyway, it's on my iPod now and kicks my butt when it shows up while I'm running. No way to merely jog to this:

day two

Of course, now that mommy is out of town, it turns out that this is school's turn-off-your-tv week. Okay, it sounds like I'm complaining, but really, other than me needing to be a bit more of a cruise director, it leaves the kids in a better mood, so it's a good thing. The heavy rains, however, are another story.
This morning we didn't know about the no-tv thing yet, so we were watching SpongeBob in which he said it was his best day ever (not the episode with the song, though; he says it a lot).
Coco said, "Saturday is the best day ever. That's when Mommy comes back."
aww.
We tried calling Mommy this afternoon (evening for her). It's hard to coordinate the timing because she's busy. Sure enough, Le Front Desk Guy (that's what they call a concierge in France) said that she had stepped out. When I hung up, Madge said, "I didn't know you could speak French so well." She was impressed that I never switched to English. Which is sweet, but it sounded like she's been trying to speak French with me for a few years now and has only been holding back because she figured I wasn't very good at it.

inverted hunger strike

I'm always a bit late on reading the Economist, so this might not be news to you.
But
It appears that aside from using the delightful word "inquorate" (a negative adjectival manipulation of "quorum"), it points out that Evo Morales went on a hunger strike to get what he wants. Kicker one is that he happens to be the president.
http://www.economist.com/displayStory.cfm?story_id=13496059
Kicker two is that he didn't actually get his way, but got to eat again because the problem could be fixed in time.

"lazy" Sunday

Neighbor boy came over and we watched an animated X-Men thingie.
After lunch, neighbor girl (gotta think of pseudonyms, I think) came over. New haircut, cute. Madge was teaching her the Twilight characters' names off the poster. "Rose something" giggle "Jasper" yes "Isabelle Swan" giggle "Edward!"
Later we played with neighbor boy at playground. He's an only kid, so he does the infamous only/older rule-making and rule-adjusting, which got very frustrating for Coco. I tried to stay out of it and was sort of proud and sort of feeling bad for neighbor boy when Coco walked away from the whole situation.
Which isn't to say that Coco isn't the manipulation king or at least prime minister.
I handed out allowance today and he tried to give Madge a dollar in order to collect a ten from me.
After various frustrated and -ing attempts at an explanation, it turns out that it was his tenth dollar. He finally agreed he'd have to cough up all ten - and not to her, but to me - in order to get a Hamilton instead of Washington.
Now Coco is asleep in our bed so I won't be lonely, he says. I should teach him that Police song, the one that I'm always humming when Julie's out of town:

Mommy in Paris

There will probably be more kid updates here now, so Julie can keep up with our shenanigans.
Our plan for the day includes playdates and shopping and perhaps some balcony gardening - I think I'll plant the garlic that sprouted in the pantry, to see what will happen.
So far, we're still just lounging around, singing "I'm a Barbie Girl in a Barbie World" and enjoying open windows for the first time in quite a while.
See, Julie, you're not missing much - except that we got to hear neighbor boy do his singsong playing on the balcony - which is where Coco went for the first part of the playdates.

Larkin review of sorts

The proof of hope lies in disappointment.
That’s the most positive spin I can put on these poems. Don’t get me wrong; they’re great. But don’t look to Larkin for uplift. Look to him for honesty, insight, and formal play. How very cliche, but I don't know how else to summarize the appeal.

[Here’s my story of getting to Larkin. It seems that every pseudo-intellectual started misquoting Larkin’s “Annus Mirabilis” because McEwan’s On Chesil Beach is about a kind of sexual awakening at the referred-to time. “Blah, blah sexual intercourse began blah 1963 blah blah Chatterley ban blah blah Beatles LP.” I meant to look up the actual poem but didn’t get around to it. Then I started reading Kingsley Amis and picked up Lucky Jim and sure enough, it’s dedicated to Larkin. Then I noticed that all of Larkin’s poems fit on less than 200 pages and there we are.]

I’ll try to give you a taste.
As a reader, I hit my stride in Larkin's mid-thirties – I’m not bold enough to say that it’s when he hit his stride as a writer – with The Less Deceived. A random sampling of titles will give you a flavor of his subjects. Poems include: Next, Please; Going; Wants; Maiden Name; Born Yesterday; Whatever Happened?; No Road. You get the drift.

Here’s a bit of “Maiden Name”:
…
Then is it scentless, weightless, strengthless, wholly
Untruthful? Try whispering it slowly.
No, it means you. Or, since you’re past and gone,

It means what we feel now about you then:
…

Or, how about only the rhyme words of “Maiden Name”:

Disused; face; grace; confused; cannot be; beauty; used;;
No one; scattered through; prize or two; ribbon; wholly; slowly; gone;;
Then; young; among; again; faithfulness; meaning less; laden.

Great stuff. If you don’t care for a whole book of poems, I highly recommend “Church Going,” “High Windows,” and “The Trees” (“Their greenness is a kind of grief.”)

[Depending on my speed on bigger novels, I reserve the right to count this reading as four books, since The North Ship, The Less Deceived, The Whitsun Weddings, and High Windows each originally appeared as a separate volume. And now I’m off to start Lucky Jim.]

picture time

a little self-dressup from Madge

tissues at the ready

I can't embed the clip, but here's the link.
Seriously, I dare you not to get chills.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY
daaaaaamn

Lord Of The Rings

Sure, Coco may be a little young to see it, but he said he'd just wear his dream bracelet to bed to avoid nightmares.
So we polished off the movies this weekend.
This morning he noticed that we still had some cotton candy left over from a Knicks game we saw a while ago and asked if he could have it.
When I handed it to him, he hunched over it and gurgled, "Aaah, my precious!"

bookie

finished my first book for the 100 books thing and wrote a little "review"
Great Gatsby

Did you remember that Tom and Daisy had a kid?
Pammy is her name. She’s three.
It’s odd, the things you notice when you reread a classic. I’m now convinced that the only reason the book is assigned to high school kids is its length. For example,

A) If I didn’t have kids of my own, I don’t think I’d have noticed the kid, since the Buchanans don’t seem to, either. I would have noticed Tom breaking his mistress’s nose for mentioning his wife, though. It, too, came as a surprise to me on the reread (am I really such an inattentive first-time reader?).

B) If I hadn’t moved to New York after living in Chicago and Minneapolis, some of the West vs. East would have been greeted with a “whatever.” Makes sense now, though.

C) If I hadn’t passed my thirtieth birthday a while ago, I would have rolled my eyes at this observation:

“I’m thirty,” I said. “I’m five years too old to lie to myself and call it honor.” (177)

Which is part of this theme:

Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known. (59)
…
“You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.”
I’ve always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever gave him, because I disapproved of him from beginning to end. (154)

Put Gatsby on your list of 100 books to read five years from now. It’ll be worth it (again). I’m sure I’ll be picking up recommendations from all of you, too.





The oddest line for the contemporary reader is probably

-- intruding into one chamber where a disheveled man in pajamas was doing liver exercises on the floor. (91)

But Chapter IV, in which he describes the Long Island crowd, is filled with great nuggets as well. For example:

From East Egg, then, came the Chester Beckers and the Leeches, and a man named Bunsen, whom I knew in Yale, and Doctor Webster Civet, who was drowned last summer up in Maine. And the Hornbeams and the Willie Voltaires, and a whole clan named Blackbuck, who always gathered in a corner and flipped up their noses like goats at whosoever came near. And the Ismays and the Chrysties (or rather Hubert Auerbach and Mr. Chrystie’s wife), and Edgar Beaver, whose hair, they say, turned cotton-white one winter afternoon for no good reason at all. (61-2)

Homework

I've signed up to a site where I can publicly catch up on stuff I've never read.
Here's my first bit, the assignment: http://fillinthegaps100.blogspot.com/2009/04/goedis-list.html

Speaking up

I just finished an intro level improv class. Fun stuff. And now I'll go off to level two. Yippee.
This weekend I went to see two shows, which made me notice something.
When I show up to my kids' classes (from pre-K to 4th grade so far), there are always kids who raise their hands before they have something to say. Inevitably, one of them gets called on because, let's face it, they are very skilled at raising their hands and going "ooh, ooh, pick me!"
Well, it turns out that this never stops.
At Friday's show, the cast was going to ask for
"PASSOVER!"
was going to ask for a suggestion of the place you're from.
"Oh. Israel."
And from then on, she had hardly anything to say. To her defense, she probably didn't know the English words for the stuff she did as a kid. Still.

At Saturday's show, the cast asked for something special that happened to someone in the audience.
"Ooh. Me! Me!"
"You over there."
"Whoooooo!"
"What happened to you?"
"Well, next week we're all going to get together and..."

I suggest that grammar school teachers crack down harder on kids who speak before they've listened to instructions. It only gets worse with age and alcohol.

memories

Julie can attest to this.
When we were living in San Francisco (the second time), I needed to get new contacts and didn't have an opto- ophtho- opti- eye doctor. So I looked in the phone book and chose one based on his name: Thomas Chong.
He still sends me reminders to get my eyes checked even though he's been sending them to Brooklyn for two and a half years now.
And, no, it wasn't even remotely who I hoped for. But he did a good job. I can see fine.

gumballs

Because Coco has to take his getwellicillin for last week's strep throat, he gets to kill the icky taste with candy. He chose gumballs.
Now, our video store has a gumball machine, and they give out a free rental if you get a yellow gumball. However, we got our gumballs from a corner store. The packet contained two yellow ones and Coco didn't miss a beat.
"Let's save the yellow ones so we can get free rentals."
And no, I don't think it was meant as innocently as it reads. He intends to sneak them in and pretend we got them from the machine.
That's my boy.
(Madge, of course, is outraged at the idea.)

confession

I wish I could say I wore out Miles Davis' Kind of Blue when I was a kid.
No.
This is the single I played over and over and over and ...

April Fools

At pickup today I overheard a dad tell his daughter that the mom had gone to Florida on business and they are going to pack up this afternoon to catch up with her and spend an extra wee there before spring break. She was ecstatic and jumped up and down until he said those magic words which deflated her and literally sat her on her butt on the ground.
Zing.
That doesn't compare, though, with Coco's April Fools. "Your eyebrows are tied. April Fools!"

Cielito Lindo

As the family can attest, this song is my latest obsession. You'd think it's not the best bedtime song. Yet, if you repeat the same verse often enough, your child will pretend to be asleep just to end the torture. Try it.
Ay, ay, ay, ay... canta y no llores... porque cantando se alegran, Cielito Lindo, los corazones!

nice day

sunshine is a wonderful thing, and now I'm getting excited about the cherry trees in the Brooklyn Botanic* Gardens. I just need to load up on eye-drops and I'm set to go.
click and enjoy and share your favorites if you want: http://bbg.org/exp/cherries/stages.html

*botanic/botanical? I figure the "al" is redundant unless there's a clear noun ending in "-ic." I.e., music/musical are two different things, but rhythmic/rhythmical both describe the same thing and unless you're making a poetic point about a waltz rhythm, you'd better shy away from the latter when I'm grading your paper.

Running Pal

He's built a chicken coop in his backyard and has ordered three pullets. One of 'em will be named Omelet. The others, he's not sure of yet, but probably Yolky and I fogot the other, but I'll suggest Shelley.
Today he mentioned that his wife isn't too excited about the chicken idea. This never occurred to me because I think it's awesome. (Apparently you can't have a rooster in Brooklyn, though, because of the noise. I smell a protesting cause culminating in the "Cocks for Brooklyn" walk-a-thon. I wonder who'd show up.)
Anyway, I told him to sell her on the idea by saying that other men, when they go through a crisis, gravitate to fast cars and metaphorical chicks. She should count her blessings. (Before they hatch. mwah, mwah)

NYC PS is anti-something?

Please pardon the repetition, but I figured I'd share here, too.
The kids' school has a "kindness quote" (I think it's "of the week" but am not sure). It's a quote that includes the power of kindness and a picture of the person quoted. Right now it's Anne Frank, and she is cited as "Author, The Diary of a Young Girl."
Now, here's a good reason to be a stickler for accuracy. Maybe she should be called "diarist." Or maybe she should have not titular appellation at all.
See, my point is that "author" implies that the whole thing is made up. And would that make the public school a holocaust denier?
Maybe the whole point of the kindness quote has passed me by.

don't care if it's real or fake

it's great

Coco Tuesday

In school yesterday he made his own laptop computer. He says it took him a really long time.

He stapled two pieces of paper together. One he made into a screen, on the outside of which he was sure to draw an apple (the circle with the stem in it) although we don't have a Mac. On the other he drew "two thousand" squares and put letters in them. He also has a touchpad, a power button, and two volume buttons. The game on the screen is Star Wars Clone Wars which has the special feature (for Madge) that you can choose several girl characters.

Madge Monday

Okay, so Coco wins in this one, but still.
It's my favorite kind of joke, and it was enacted before my eyes.
Coco was saying something about "When pigs fly" and I asked him where he heard it. He said Madge told him. Then I asked him what it meant and he said, "It means never, because pigs can't fly."
At this point Madge piped up with, "Yes, they can. On an airplane."
And before I could say anything, Coco came back with, "No, they can't. They don't have a suitcase."

weird

Kid who is in fourth grade was at the playground and asked me the time.
Without any pleases or other manners, so it took me a while to answer. What took me a while was to decide whether or not to make her ask again. I decided against it and said, "Quarter to seven."
She asked, "What time is it?" again, and that was really pushing my patience. One of my many adult grumpinesses arises when someone asks me a question and then doesn't bother paying attention to the answer.
So I said, "I just told you the time. What did I just say?"
And she said, "Quarter to seven."
And I thought we were done. But her look told me that she didn't know what those words meant. And she said, "I need to know because I need to be home at six forty-five."
Now my next answer took me a really long time because that's the kind of joke I would make and I had to study her face carefully in order to determine whether she was joking or not.
So I asked a friend of hers, "What does 'quarter to seven' mean?" And, after thinking a while, he said, "Six fifteen?"
Oh.

half-day

Don't know why they call it that. Selfish people. It's a double day for those of us entertaining the kids once they get out. They're not even properly exhausted or homeworked up.
Maybe chores is the solution. Come home and fold clothes, kids.
But then there's also the parent-teacher conferences. I still can't believe I'm on the parent side of this equation. Which reminds me, I still need to sign some report cards.

Coco Tuesday

He's definitely into a new stage of boyhood now. It's called "wear the same pants all the time and don't take a bath."
Luckily, the pants a disintegrating on their own. More wearing means more washing and more washing means thinner and thinner fabric and soon - poof - his legs (and maybe more) will be exposed.
The bath thing though, phew, that's taking some cajoling.

Madge Monday

In the last two weeks, Madge has lost her lunchbox twice and a sweater once. I think the warmer weather is to blame because she's more eager to go outside (and once there, to take off the sweater).
I found the lunchbox in the lost and found bins and the sweater was returned by a teacher.
But here's what I'm thinking. Next time she loses one of these things, I'm making her dig for them herself or I'm just replacing them.
It appears that the most frequently misplaced item is a lunchbox, and a lost lunchbox invariably contains leftovers, which do not improve over time. In other words, between the rancid food and musty clothes, the lost and found bins are a masochist's delight.

Happy Friday!

I Mean You

yikes

Went to Madge's class today where we got to read their "realistic fiction" projects.
There were autobiographical elements everywhere. The sweaty kid wrote about a kid breaking out in sweat. The kid with matching clothes wrote about a kid whose clothes always match. The absent-minded kid wrote about a kid who freaked out because he didn't know that the test he was taking was only practice, not the real thing.
Madge wrote about parents who fight about the weirdest things. Sample dialogue:
"You forgot to feed the pigs!"
"We don't have any pigs!"

And, yes, I've already asked if she thinks we fight a lot. She says no. Hm.

album art

too cool. there are obviously more arty ones here, http://b3ta.com/challenge/album_art/, but this one is dear to my heart.

Coco Tuesday

He can be quite articulate.
He had a playdate over who was ignoring everything while on the DS. Coco wanted him to stop so I said, Why don't you just ask him? And Coco said, to his friend,
"Will you stop? Because friends are better than games."
And his friend shut the game.
Voila. The power of words.

Madge Monday

Our Twilight reading is almost done,
so she's starting to choose another one.
I'm sure I'll be done with teen vampires
so I'm starting to stoke other desires.
On our shelves there is quite a crowd
just asking to be read aloud.
But I think I'm starting narrow my view
to Wodehouse, Chandler, or Catch-22.

For a Chandler read-aloud I've got quite an itch,
but I'm not quite sure of a proper sales pitch.

hair

Busy, chaotic afternoon.
I had said yes to a playdate, but had forgotten that we had haircuts scheduled, so the playdate came along. He was a good sport about it.

Madge is direct, makes room for no doubt,
"I want shorter bangs, but I'm growing it out."
Coco's directions were not quite as clear.
But one thing was certain, "Short 'round the ears."
And one more detail that is dear to his heart
The perfected pert placement of Peter Parker's part.

hunh, now what?

We went to the neurologist today and she said we don't need to come back to check in with her unless there's another "incident," as she calls it.
This is good news of course, but she is a doctor he actually doesn't mind going to. Though he's still freaked out about going, just not as much as the "shot doctor" (his term).

Our Doc,
not a quack,
gave a shock.
Said, "Don't come back."

Thanks, Dr. LJ!

Coco Tuesday

Aha! On a Tuesday, no less. I know you're impressed.
He's been full of gems lately. As you may have guessed, we call him Coco. In his previous school there was a kid who pronounced his name "Cornrad" and we reminded Coco of this, recently.
To which he replied: "I'm not a piece of corn. I'm a piece of hot chocolate!"
I think this is only second place to his comment on the history of our neighborhood.
On the way to school he complained about the incline. Well, I think he said hill, but I'm sure incline just slipped his mind at the moment. I think his question was:

"Daddy, why did they build these big hills?"
And I said, "The hills were already here,
all the stuff you see was just put on top.
Grass and trees would grow a fresh crop
if all the buildings were to disappear.
Long ago only greenery was to be found."
And he said, "You mean when the money people were around?"
I found this comment queer
so I had to stop
and let my jaw drop.
After some questions it became clear:
He meant the time of the people who adorn our bills.

Madge Monday

snow dehh...
Our first, and of course we didn't know what to do with ourselves. We went out twice, but for some reason we didn't feel up to going sledding so we just played in the powdery snow at the playground.
If today had happened two or three months ago, we would have been ecstatic, I think.

Now that spring is almost here and winter ought to be gone,
a snow day produces nothing but an impatient yawn.

On a more Madge-specific note, the day started out badly, with a cranky outburst about sharing starburst and the DS and getting ready for school. Yes, getting ready for school; we were slow on the uptake regarding the snow day. But the fresh air cleared her mind.
And when she realized how she had behaved, she asked to call Mommy at work and leave a message to say she was sorry.
I hope she will be able to do that when she's older, too.

dream time

A couple nights ago, it seems,
I was mean to my wife in her dreams.
This isn't something to be poo-pooed
since it's a reality she's liminally subdooed.
Of course I'm glad she still dreams about me,
but not if those dreams lead her to doubt me.
So maybe, before I take a nap and try to work my psychic powers,
I'll change the sheets and give her a pillowcase with flowers.

behind again

The rhyming is making the posts late.
A quick update:
Tomorrow Madge and I skate,
and the doctor attempts to vaccinate
Coco. Great.

Madge Monday

Reading to her is nice. Lately she wants to read in our bed and she snuggles close. Aah.
And Twilight is getting more interesting, which is helpful, too. Though it is a difficult read-aloud for me because the narrator is female and I don't think I have an appropriately silky Edward voice. Oh, well. And then, of course, there are the very cute giggles emanating from Madge when there are awkward boy-girl interactions.
Also:

At one point Bella feels bad
for her fumbling lunk of a dad.
The poor guy seems to worry
and stay up too late
whether she's out in a hurry
or without any date.
It seems that a teen's dad has no way to win
'cuz it's bad when she's out
but worse when she's in.

An attempt

I'll pick a line from a book and weave it into something. The only problem is to make the line random or at least random-ish. I'll open the book (Andrew Marvell, Complete Poems) and point.
We'll see...
(Dramatic, isn't it? This is real-time stuff.)
... "And the green grass, and their known mangers hate,"
Pretty good so far, especially because I'm not looking at the context, as much as I'd like to because it's not making too much sense.
Here goes:

Two sheep, let's call them Thelma and Louise,
grow increasingly difficult to please.
They longingly gaze past the garden gate,
And the green grass, and their known mangers hate.
But soon, for the first time since they were born,
they wander out, bravely to a new morn
and get shorn.

A country song of sorts

Ambidextrous

They said that she is one of a kind.
That dancer's sure to blow my mind.
Though a gentleman's club, it was unrefined.
And I sat right up front to see her left behind.

At first we merely wined and dined.
Then I proposed a legal bind.
It was really too much of a grind.
To sit right up front to see her left behind.

We'd be right together, not left alone.
I'd be right over for her left overs.
I'd be right in not to be left out.
Right on!
We'd pick it up where we left off.

Without much thought she just declined.
To merely watch I was resigned
Then I saw her fooled by one of her kind.
And I sat right up front to see her left behind.

lazy post

But, hey, rewarding for you.
This is - so far - my favorite Martin and Lewis sketch ever.
Stick with it and see if you don't laugh out loud, even if you're alone.

Coco Tuesday

Eager Auntie

(Based, unfortunately, on a true story)
(But exaggerated for effect, so don't worry)

Relatives, be on your guard,
the learning process can be hard.

Playground antics need good pacing.
If you're too frenetic
you won't be energetic
for Batman and Monster and Racing.

And you'll lie in a hastily self-made bed
with bruised leg, twisted neck, and bumped head.

Madge Monday

Oooh, I was slacking last week. Sorry. Tired.
This week the kids have vacation, which is just a lame way of saying it might not be better on my end, but we'll see.
But for Madge today, I don't know yet. How about:

-Mmmmm, Edward.
-Oooooh, Bella.

Twilight is a book I didn't want to read,
no matter how much my girl would plead.
And yet she got me, oh, she's devious (and I'm proud).
She tricked me by making it our read-aloud.

I keep telling her it's not by choice
(when I read how
his looks are perfect
his voice is musical
his eyes are flashing)
that there's a hint of eye-rolling in my voice.

And sometimes she can hear the chair wriggle
as I am suppressing a giggle.

Coco Tuesday

A day late, granted, but I'm now busier on Tuesday nights, so that's how it'll be, I guess.
Today, Wednesday, was the 100th day of school.

They've been in school 100 days.
Today they count 100 ways.
By ones, by twos, by fives, by tens;
all the way up
and back again.

Their counting's loud and energetic.
For one the counting was emetic.

Perhaps for him it did recall
the beers that once were on the wall
and through some quite precocious thinking
he projectiled ahead
to nights of drinking.

Madge Monday

Dear Cast and Crew of Whatever Was Filming At Our Playground

I don't know what to say.
I apologize.
I didn't realize
- though it made my daughter's day -
that I was walking through your shot.

Two young moms I did pass on my way.
Boy, was I suprised
when I realized
- as I politely wished them good day -
that they were real but their babies were not.

Did I ruin your teleplay?
Well, as you revise
and maybe curse my eyes
as you cut me in your editing bay,
well, anyway
Please send me whatever you got.

My new baby

I was encouraged to adopt a word at www.savethewords.org .
You might want to do the same, I don't know. I got a certificate in my inbox and now I have a word to cherish and nurture. But be warned, you don't get a shiny new word that's all cute and cuddly, you get an aging, retired word. It's more like a make-a-wish foundation thing for words on their way out.
Luckily I got one with a bit of fighting spirit left in it, if only in a metaphorical application. I think we can do this.
My new old word, which I'd like to call George but can't, is: yelve. It looks like a verb, but don't say that to its face. It's a noun and has always been. It's a dung-fork. How exactly it is different from a pitch-fork I'm not sure and it won't tell me.

When someone spreads opinions he or she ought to shelve,
in other words bullshit enough for twelve,
you say, "Hang on, let me get my yelve."

Educational Typo

Sometimes, when I'm trying to find rhymes, I start typing words that might or might not work, and I let WordPerfect be the arbiter. I was trying to see if it would accept "chinny" as a word - we all know what it means, after all: it's the diminutive of chin, just as skinny is the diminutive of skin. Wait.
Anyway, my finger neglected to depress the "C" and I typed hinny. But it didn't get a red underline, so I looked it up.
Apparently, it's the other thing you can get when you cross a horse with a donkey.

If you really want to know, here is the rule:
Female horse, male donkey, that's a mule.
When a female donkey makes a male horse whinny,
the end result of that tryst is a hinny.
I read on, I'm no fool,
I know you, too, are puerile.
Just one - the entry "mule" -
includes the fateful: sterile.

(Hinny also doesn't seem to have the connotation of being stubborn. Coincidence?)

Coco Tuesday

It's so easy to fall behind when the kids stay home.

As we stay home all day,
listless, uninspired,
I keep the meds away.
It only makes them wired.

I've kept their crazy moods at bay,
I brought them lunches on a tray,
I bring DS games, let them play,
while, reading, on the couch I lay.
Hey,
("lie" doesn't rhyme, what can I say?)
Why am I so tired?

Great Stuff

What, no poem? No, probably not.
A wonderful link is all I have.

http://niemann.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/02/i-lego-ny/?em

Graham Greene would be proud

Maybe. Anyway, this is a true story, as you can verify by searching for the names or places I mention.

An incarcerated middle-aged spy,
Harold James ("Jim") Nicholson,
was aided by a younger guy,
Nathaniel, his trusting un-fickle son.
Jim was jailed, so he had pre-percussions
of selling state secrets to Russians.
But though the bloke was stuck in jail
he had more secrets for sale.
So he said to his son,
"Let's sell every one."
And so poor young Nathaniel
was sent out like a Spaniel.
The part of the tale that made my day:
they met at a Cypriot T.G.I. Friday.

Okay, so it's lacking a struggle with Catholicism and an inability to form human attachments, but I still think Greene might have appreciated the mundaneness and seeming anachronism of the whole thing.

Also, if I were a limerick writer, I'd be sweating over the lovely initial line:
At a TGI Friday in Cyprus.

But luckily it's Monday, so I'm not one.

Madge Monday

Not the most thrilling day. Coco was sick with a fever, Madge was sick without one, so I figured I'd make my life easier and just keep both at home.

Only a seasoned deceiver
will take time to make a fake fever.
Since I like to believe what I'm told,
she stayed home with merely a cold.