Transcript of recent conversation with my 6-year-old.
Viva: Why are you wearing (pause for effect) THOSE earrings?
Mama: These? (feels ears because can’t remember which ones) Oh, these. Um, I don’t know, I never wear them and Daddy gave them to me and so I thought today I would wear them. Why? Don’t you like them?
Viva: Well, Mah-OM (like she doesn’t know exactly how to tell me this): they look like boys’ earrings.
Mama: (busts out laughing) OH! MY. GOD! HONEY!
Sweet Dub (from another part of the house): WHUH?
Mama: Come and hear what your child is saying.
Viva: What? They DO.
Sweet Dub: What?
Mama: Listen to what has become of this generation. Your child thinks these look like boys’ earrings.
Sweet Dub (bursts out laughing) Oh, no. Really? Is that what we’ve come to?
Mama: Bling bling.
Note: The earrings in question are diamond studs. I have a tendency to wear dangly earrings mostly, so I hardly ever wear them. It appears that all the young men who like the hippity-hop music wear earrings like this and thus have ruined them forever for everyone else. Evidently I can’t yet wear them as a subversive, arch act of turning fashion on its head because people will just think I’m out of touch rather than cutting edge. Woe is me.
Showing posts with label blah ha ha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blah ha ha. Show all posts
Monday, November 02, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Day Nine and Feelin’…Meh.
1. Yesterday I was asked to work on some creative projects at work. Today that translated into me writing the cover story for our company newsletter, along with a couple of other articles. That is so much with the coolness!
2. Good and yet not so good: I’ve been watching my money carefully and I was wondering why I had more money in my account than expected – but not enough to really pursue it. Today I was changing purses and I discovered a bill in my purse that I thought I had mailed two weeks ago. Oh, so that’s why I have an extra $779 in my account! Yeah, I’m really tired. It made me laugh at myself.
3. Piggybacking on my husband’s issues with his clothes: I spent ten minutes trying to figure out what to wear this morning. Finding pants that fit, with tops that are warm but not too warm, and coordinating shoes, has become something of a challenge. Where is the grace in this, you ask? Wait for it, wait for it…well, it’s forced me to put together different items in ways I wouldn’t before. Today a random person at work stopped me to compliment me on my outfit. Somehow I made it work. Tune in tomorrow!
4. A friend at work gave me a free tamale this morning. It was yummy. (I see a theme developing here…there’s a lot of free food at work.)
5. Forgot to mention: this weekend Viva was imitating Edna Mode from The Incredibles, with perfect intonation:
2. Good and yet not so good: I’ve been watching my money carefully and I was wondering why I had more money in my account than expected – but not enough to really pursue it. Today I was changing purses and I discovered a bill in my purse that I thought I had mailed two weeks ago. Oh, so that’s why I have an extra $779 in my account! Yeah, I’m really tired. It made me laugh at myself.
3. Piggybacking on my husband’s issues with his clothes: I spent ten minutes trying to figure out what to wear this morning. Finding pants that fit, with tops that are warm but not too warm, and coordinating shoes, has become something of a challenge. Where is the grace in this, you ask? Wait for it, wait for it…well, it’s forced me to put together different items in ways I wouldn’t before. Today a random person at work stopped me to compliment me on my outfit. Somehow I made it work. Tune in tomorrow!
4. A friend at work gave me a free tamale this morning. It was yummy. (I see a theme developing here…there’s a lot of free food at work.)
5. Forgot to mention: this weekend Viva was imitating Edna Mode from The Incredibles, with perfect intonation:
“You are ELASTIGIRL! (disgustedly) My GOD, (mimes smacking someone repeatedly) pull - yourself - together!” Hey, she comes by it honestly.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Laughter and Tears! The Yin! The Yang!
Bright Spot of the Day
On our way to school this morning, Viva says, “Did you know we have secret signs at school?”
I immediately think of kindergarteners either throwing gang signs (East-SIIIIDE!) or dressed in softly gleaming white robes, performing by candlelight scary occult rituals for which there are secret signs. Guardedly, I say, “No, I didn’t know that. What are these secret signs? Are they so secret you can’t tell me?”
“No. What you do is you hold up your fingers to tell the teacher.”
“Okay, and what does that tell her?”
“If you hold up three fingers, it means you need a drink of water.”
“Oh,” I say, relieved. “I get it now.”
“If you hold up one finger, it means you have to go to the bathroom.”
“I see,” I say. “What does it mean if you hold up two fingers?”
“PEACE,” Viva says with a heavy sigh, and then gets pissed off because I can’t stop laughing.
Shitty Spot of the Day
A new director has joined our department and today is her first day. Since I was one of only a few people here when she arrived, somehow it falls to me to get her acclimated. Eventually we are joined by one of my other co-workers, who shows this new person that she’ll be sitting (for the moment) in a cubicle. (Note: We are notoriously short on space over here; it took me six months to get an office when I started.) So my co-worker assures this new person that the cubicle is only temporary.
The new person, L., says confidently, “Oh, I know.” And turning to me she says, “How do you feel about having to move out of your office?”
“I wasn’t aware that that was a done deal,” I say. My boss had recently floated the idea that I might have to move to an as-yet nonexistent office, which I would have to share with someone else, and I had already firmly stated my opposition to that idea. It now becomes clear that this has been presented to this new person as something that is going to happen pretty much as soon as I go out on maternity leave. She realizes she has said something she shouldn’t and starts backpedaling. “Woops, don’t get mad at me, I’m new,” she says.
I am PISSED. Really pissed. I’m not pissed at her – what sense would that make – and I say so. I also say my understanding was that this whole discussion is premature, and we don’t know where I’ll end up. I then reassure her she shouldn’t worry about it. We move on getting her oriented and after a few minutes I excuse myself.
I go down to the parking garage and sit in my car and call Sweet Dub, and as soon as he answers the phone I start crying. (Lucky, lucky him.) I just think it’s pretty shitty to plan to move someone into my office while I’m off having a baby. I mean, shit, I’m seven months pregnant and trying to keep all the aspects of my life under control and I have really tried to not let this pregnancy interfere with my work life, and I feel under the circumstances I have handled it well up to this point. This is just what people do, right? But my feelings are hurt and right now I just want to throw my hands up in the air and go home.
Since Sweet Dub’s job is imploding (they had some kind of disaster yesterday which he is in the middle of running damage control on), I let him off the phone after a few minutes. Blow my nose. Drink some water and take a few deep breaths. Send good vibes to the baby, get out of the car, and go back upstairs.
As the morning progresses, people ambush me in my office and I end up having to rehash this incident three times. First with my boss, then with the co-worker who was present when it happened, and then with my boss’ boss, who swears he was the one who told me they were going to give away my office while I’m gone. As in, yes, that IS going to happen. The alleged plan is to build out a conference room while I’m away – cut it in half and put up a wall and a second door.
I am thoroughly sick of it. At this point, I have closed my door and every time I get down to work, someone else comes by and knocks and asks about some other fucking thing. So since I’m not getting anything done, I had to vent. And here we are.
Peace (that’s two fingers).
On our way to school this morning, Viva says, “Did you know we have secret signs at school?”
I immediately think of kindergarteners either throwing gang signs (East-SIIIIDE!) or dressed in softly gleaming white robes, performing by candlelight scary occult rituals for which there are secret signs. Guardedly, I say, “No, I didn’t know that. What are these secret signs? Are they so secret you can’t tell me?”
“No. What you do is you hold up your fingers to tell the teacher.”
“Okay, and what does that tell her?”
“If you hold up three fingers, it means you need a drink of water.”
“Oh,” I say, relieved. “I get it now.”
“If you hold up one finger, it means you have to go to the bathroom.”
“I see,” I say. “What does it mean if you hold up two fingers?”
“PEACE,” Viva says with a heavy sigh, and then gets pissed off because I can’t stop laughing.
Shitty Spot of the Day
A new director has joined our department and today is her first day. Since I was one of only a few people here when she arrived, somehow it falls to me to get her acclimated. Eventually we are joined by one of my other co-workers, who shows this new person that she’ll be sitting (for the moment) in a cubicle. (Note: We are notoriously short on space over here; it took me six months to get an office when I started.) So my co-worker assures this new person that the cubicle is only temporary.
The new person, L., says confidently, “Oh, I know.” And turning to me she says, “How do you feel about having to move out of your office?”
“I wasn’t aware that that was a done deal,” I say. My boss had recently floated the idea that I might have to move to an as-yet nonexistent office, which I would have to share with someone else, and I had already firmly stated my opposition to that idea. It now becomes clear that this has been presented to this new person as something that is going to happen pretty much as soon as I go out on maternity leave. She realizes she has said something she shouldn’t and starts backpedaling. “Woops, don’t get mad at me, I’m new,” she says.
I am PISSED. Really pissed. I’m not pissed at her – what sense would that make – and I say so. I also say my understanding was that this whole discussion is premature, and we don’t know where I’ll end up. I then reassure her she shouldn’t worry about it. We move on getting her oriented and after a few minutes I excuse myself.
I go down to the parking garage and sit in my car and call Sweet Dub, and as soon as he answers the phone I start crying. (Lucky, lucky him.) I just think it’s pretty shitty to plan to move someone into my office while I’m off having a baby. I mean, shit, I’m seven months pregnant and trying to keep all the aspects of my life under control and I have really tried to not let this pregnancy interfere with my work life, and I feel under the circumstances I have handled it well up to this point. This is just what people do, right? But my feelings are hurt and right now I just want to throw my hands up in the air and go home.
Since Sweet Dub’s job is imploding (they had some kind of disaster yesterday which he is in the middle of running damage control on), I let him off the phone after a few minutes. Blow my nose. Drink some water and take a few deep breaths. Send good vibes to the baby, get out of the car, and go back upstairs.
As the morning progresses, people ambush me in my office and I end up having to rehash this incident three times. First with my boss, then with the co-worker who was present when it happened, and then with my boss’ boss, who swears he was the one who told me they were going to give away my office while I’m gone. As in, yes, that IS going to happen. The alleged plan is to build out a conference room while I’m away – cut it in half and put up a wall and a second door.
I am thoroughly sick of it. At this point, I have closed my door and every time I get down to work, someone else comes by and knocks and asks about some other fucking thing. So since I’m not getting anything done, I had to vent. And here we are.
Peace (that’s two fingers).
Friday, June 27, 2008
Can I Get an Amen?
Today, I was browsing through the rental listings for Craigslist, when I happened across this headline:
$3000 / 3br - Rental listings over $2000 on Craigslist (Pipe Dream USA)
Well, I had to click on it. Wouldn't you? And here is the ad (I am quoting the entire thing because it is just too beautiful):
$3000 / 3br - Rental listings over $2000 on Craigslist (Pipe Dream USA)
Well, I had to click on it. Wouldn't you? And here is the ad (I am quoting the entire thing because it is just too beautiful):
And to you, Anonymous Craigslist poster, sir or ma'am, I say preach on! I think I love you. You win Cranky Crackpot of the Week, and a year's supply of toilet paper!Would all the people trying to rent houses that they can not afford the mortgages on, please REALIZE that this is a free listing service. We, the readers of craigslist.org, hereby say to you, we can't afford your inflated house either!
Give it up. Walk away. You're underwater and noONE wants to rent your 'fabulous' house for more than 25% of their earnings. You really want to rent your property? Try setting a realistic rental price that someone making an average income in LA can keep up with (48K in 2005). Otherwise, list it somewhere else.
Thanks.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Good MORNING!
The scene: Blah Blah bathroom, 7:15 AM. I have just emerged from the shower and I’m drying off. I become aware of a little voice speaking softly and coming closer. The bathroom door is flung open, whacking me in the ass. Viva announces dramatically: “I feel poopish!”
“Okay, then,” I say, quickly applying deodorant as my offspring drops her drawers.
“Clear the room! She’s gonna blow!” Viva says cheerfully, settling onto the toilet.
Man, I beat it the hell out of there, hair dripping and all. You don’t need to tell me twice.
“Okay, then,” I say, quickly applying deodorant as my offspring drops her drawers.
“Clear the room! She’s gonna blow!” Viva says cheerfully, settling onto the toilet.
Man, I beat it the hell out of there, hair dripping and all. You don’t need to tell me twice.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Have a Holly Jolly Christmas
Happy Holidays! Have Some Spam
This morning, I have received 21 spam e-mails on my work computer. I wish there was some way to let it be known that I am not male and do not need Viagra or other, er, enhancement. And as far as I know, my husband and I are both quite happy with his existing equipment.
That’s all. There, I said it.
Obligatory Cute Christmas Story
Viva: Let me sing you a song.
Mama B: That would be fabulous, baby, go ahead.
Viva: [singing heartily] Feliz NabiDAH! Feliz NabiDAH! I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas at the bottom of my HEARRRRTT! [repeats ten times, dancing and swinging arms in graceful arcs]
Mama B: That was beautiful. I bet it is really beautiful at the bottom of your heart.
Viva: [scowls] No, Mama, that’s just part of the song.
Mama B: [because the Cuteness! Is! Too! Much!] I love you so.
Viva: [meltingly] Oh, I love you too.
Not So Cute
Last night, Sweet Dub and I were talking about what to do about Viva’s future education. Should we send her to the public school down the street next year, as she will be old enough to go to kindergarten and we will no longer have to pay for school? How bad is the local public school anyway? Well, I went online for a refresher on what the school’s demographics are, what its test scores look like, etc., courtesy of the LAUSD website. They’re actually pretty decent when all is said and done. But then I Googled the school to see if I could get any “nonpartisan” feedback about it and I discovered that some very involved parents at the school have created a Website. “Hey, this might not be bad,” I said to Sweet Dub. The parents noted that the school’s performance as tracked by test scores has consistently improved over the past five years and that they had been able to secure some private grants to make improvements to the school. All well and good. Then I read a post that there is evidently a registered pedophile living across the street from the school.
Yes, you read that right. This person served time for lewd and lascivious acts with a person under the age of 14, and then moved in close proximity to an elementary school. According to the parents, school staff is aware he is there and they all know what he looks like. And according to the LAPD, he isn’t doing anything illegal just by living there, because he served his time, he is through his parole, and he hasn’t been accused of further criminal activity. But just because it’s legal, doesn’t make it right. It’s like a recovering alcoholic moving across the street from a bar.
This means he lives just a few blocks from us. You can say all you want that they’re everywhere. If you look on your state’s sex offender registration database, it will make you crazy. There are 20 in my ZIP code alone, and many (including the guy down the street) are in violation, which means they haven’t checked in with the state when they were supposed to. You can go here if you live in California – or Google Megan’s Law to search in a different state.
I am at work right now, and I just glanced at a photo of Viva beaming at me from her homemade Mother’s Day card and I felt simultaneously the urge to cry and throw up at the idea that someone just might not be able to help himself from hurting her. Needless to say, we’re still working out our kindergarten plans.
On A Lighter Note
Because I just can’t leave you like that (and I certainly didn’t start this post intending to take you on a journey down the Road of Creepiness), I bring you this:
Report: Nation’s Wealthy Cruelly Deprived Of True Meaning Of Christmas
The nation’s poor get to experience true Christmas spirit, while the wealthy, burdened by shopping and party obligations, are left out in the cold.
Report: Nation's Wealthy Cruelly Deprived Of True Meaning Of Christmas.
In the absence of The Daily Show (when O when will the writer’s strike end??), this is not a bad substitute for the type of features I would expect to see at this time of year. Enjoy, and keep away from the fruitcake.*
* I don't mean myself.
This morning, I have received 21 spam e-mails on my work computer. I wish there was some way to let it be known that I am not male and do not need Viagra or other, er, enhancement. And as far as I know, my husband and I are both quite happy with his existing equipment.
That’s all. There, I said it.
Obligatory Cute Christmas Story
Viva: Let me sing you a song.
Mama B: That would be fabulous, baby, go ahead.
Viva: [singing heartily] Feliz NabiDAH! Feliz NabiDAH! I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas at the bottom of my HEARRRRTT! [repeats ten times, dancing and swinging arms in graceful arcs]
Mama B: That was beautiful. I bet it is really beautiful at the bottom of your heart.
Viva: [scowls] No, Mama, that’s just part of the song.
Mama B: [because the Cuteness! Is! Too! Much!] I love you so.
Viva: [meltingly] Oh, I love you too.
Not So Cute
Last night, Sweet Dub and I were talking about what to do about Viva’s future education. Should we send her to the public school down the street next year, as she will be old enough to go to kindergarten and we will no longer have to pay for school? How bad is the local public school anyway? Well, I went online for a refresher on what the school’s demographics are, what its test scores look like, etc., courtesy of the LAUSD website. They’re actually pretty decent when all is said and done. But then I Googled the school to see if I could get any “nonpartisan” feedback about it and I discovered that some very involved parents at the school have created a Website. “Hey, this might not be bad,” I said to Sweet Dub. The parents noted that the school’s performance as tracked by test scores has consistently improved over the past five years and that they had been able to secure some private grants to make improvements to the school. All well and good. Then I read a post that there is evidently a registered pedophile living across the street from the school.
Yes, you read that right. This person served time for lewd and lascivious acts with a person under the age of 14, and then moved in close proximity to an elementary school. According to the parents, school staff is aware he is there and they all know what he looks like. And according to the LAPD, he isn’t doing anything illegal just by living there, because he served his time, he is through his parole, and he hasn’t been accused of further criminal activity. But just because it’s legal, doesn’t make it right. It’s like a recovering alcoholic moving across the street from a bar.
This means he lives just a few blocks from us. You can say all you want that they’re everywhere. If you look on your state’s sex offender registration database, it will make you crazy. There are 20 in my ZIP code alone, and many (including the guy down the street) are in violation, which means they haven’t checked in with the state when they were supposed to. You can go here if you live in California – or Google Megan’s Law to search in a different state.
I am at work right now, and I just glanced at a photo of Viva beaming at me from her homemade Mother’s Day card and I felt simultaneously the urge to cry and throw up at the idea that someone just might not be able to help himself from hurting her. Needless to say, we’re still working out our kindergarten plans.
On A Lighter Note
Because I just can’t leave you like that (and I certainly didn’t start this post intending to take you on a journey down the Road of Creepiness), I bring you this:
Report: Nation’s Wealthy Cruelly Deprived Of True Meaning Of Christmas
The nation’s poor get to experience true Christmas spirit, while the wealthy, burdened by shopping and party obligations, are left out in the cold.
Report: Nation's Wealthy Cruelly Deprived Of True Meaning Of Christmas.
In the absence of The Daily Show (when O when will the writer’s strike end??), this is not a bad substitute for the type of features I would expect to see at this time of year. Enjoy, and keep away from the fruitcake.*
* I don't mean myself.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Where is Christ in Christmas?
"Santa died for our gifts and rose from the dead and moved to the North Pole and because of that, every year Santa comes down to forgive us our sins and give us eternal presents."
- Jazmine, explaining "the true meaning of Christmas" to Riley in "A Huey Freeman Christmas," a.k.a. The Boondocks Christmas Special.
That show is frickin' hilarious.
- Jazmine, explaining "the true meaning of Christmas" to Riley in "A Huey Freeman Christmas," a.k.a. The Boondocks Christmas Special.
That show is frickin' hilarious.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
New Feature!
So I returned to work last week and have not had even a second to pick my nose*, never mind write a coherent blog post. Since this seems to be an overarching theme which runs throughout 9 out of 10 of my blog posts, and over which I have a disproportional amount of guilt, I am going to start a new feature at Mama Blah Blah.
Are you ready?
Are you sure?
Here it is. Because I have limited time, I'm going to post one-liners. These may be things I have said or overheard or that other people have said to me or that I pick up off the bathroom wall. I will try to post them in context, which will involve more than one line, but they will be for the most part very brief posts.
Today's one-liner, which was actually said yesterday, is:
"Once again, not having won the lottery, the [Blah Blahs] head off to work."
Said by Sweet Dub, approx. 6:30 am, as we looked at each other mournfully, me in my bathrobe, he fully dressed and about to walk out the door. I hate Mondays.
* Not that I would ever do that. Isn't that what coat sleeves are for?
Are you ready?
Are you sure?
Here it is. Because I have limited time, I'm going to post one-liners. These may be things I have said or overheard or that other people have said to me or that I pick up off the bathroom wall. I will try to post them in context, which will involve more than one line, but they will be for the most part very brief posts.
Today's one-liner, which was actually said yesterday, is:
"Once again, not having won the lottery, the [Blah Blahs] head off to work."
Said by Sweet Dub, approx. 6:30 am, as we looked at each other mournfully, me in my bathrobe, he fully dressed and about to walk out the door. I hate Mondays.
* Not that I would ever do that. Isn't that what coat sleeves are for?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Now and Then
It is Saturday morning. Sweet Dub has taken Viva out to breakfast and then they are going to see Bee Movie.* They left after repeated, stern instructions from him for me not to overdo it while they were gone.
There are so many things I want to do right now and I can't:
(1) Exercise.
(2) Clean the house.
(3) Take my car to the gas station, get gas and put air in the tires. (I can drive with a towel over my abdomen between me and the seatbelt, but the squatting to inflate the tires would still hurt and I might strain something.)
(4) Gardening/working in the yard.
(5) Pretty much anything active.
The good news is that my abdomen has shrunk enough that I can fit into my comfy jeans, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I am heading back to the world of normal clothes! Oh, how I've missed you!
The weather today is perfect for a nice fall hike in Griffith Park. On one of my first real dates with Sweet Dub, he took me for a hike in Griffith Park. I didn't realize it was a test! (Ooh, sneaky Dub.) We drove up and parked across from the Greek Theatre and headed up a steep trail. It was all uphill for a good 5 minutes, then leveled out, then uphill again, etc. We walked and talked for a good hour or so, and I didn't poop out. I guess he was trying to see if I was actually in shape or whether I was thin because I didn't eat much.** Because he is a very active person, this was an important compatibility issue for him.
I am not as active as he is, but I do miss yoga and hiking and dancing. Those are my three favorite "active" activities. (Well, the three that I can tell you about. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.)
I am now going to fling open the windows and let the crisp air into the house and maybe "couch dance"*** to my (and Viva's) new favorite song by Flight of the Conchords. You know I like funny. I am slightly ever so in love with them:
"You like boom, I like boom, enough small boom, let's boom de boom!" Viva likes to dance to the abbreviated version we show her via TiVo (so she doesn't actually hear the f-word or the b-word. Give us at least a little credit.). Enjoy!
* Please note that if you click on the link for Bee Movie, you will be taken to a review by Common Sense Media. My adding this link should not be interpreted as my having read the review before sending my kid to the movie. Because I didn't. Because I am just that lazy. Thank you and good night.
** Which, in itself, is kind of ridiculous, since during the blind date at which we met, I ordered French toast, swimming in butter and syrup, and bacon. What can I say - it didn't occur to me to order an egg-white omelet. That is just not how I roll.
*** By which I mean sit on the couch and dance only with my shoulders and arms. Gently.
There are so many things I want to do right now and I can't:
(1) Exercise.
(2) Clean the house.
(3) Take my car to the gas station, get gas and put air in the tires. (I can drive with a towel over my abdomen between me and the seatbelt, but the squatting to inflate the tires would still hurt and I might strain something.)
(4) Gardening/working in the yard.
(5) Pretty much anything active.
The good news is that my abdomen has shrunk enough that I can fit into my comfy jeans, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I am heading back to the world of normal clothes! Oh, how I've missed you!
The weather today is perfect for a nice fall hike in Griffith Park. On one of my first real dates with Sweet Dub, he took me for a hike in Griffith Park. I didn't realize it was a test! (Ooh, sneaky Dub.) We drove up and parked across from the Greek Theatre and headed up a steep trail. It was all uphill for a good 5 minutes, then leveled out, then uphill again, etc. We walked and talked for a good hour or so, and I didn't poop out. I guess he was trying to see if I was actually in shape or whether I was thin because I didn't eat much.** Because he is a very active person, this was an important compatibility issue for him.
I am not as active as he is, but I do miss yoga and hiking and dancing. Those are my three favorite "active" activities. (Well, the three that I can tell you about. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.)
I am now going to fling open the windows and let the crisp air into the house and maybe "couch dance"*** to my (and Viva's) new favorite song by Flight of the Conchords. You know I like funny. I am slightly ever so in love with them:
"You like boom, I like boom, enough small boom, let's boom de boom!" Viva likes to dance to the abbreviated version we show her via TiVo (so she doesn't actually hear the f-word or the b-word. Give us at least a little credit.). Enjoy!
* Please note that if you click on the link for Bee Movie, you will be taken to a review by Common Sense Media. My adding this link should not be interpreted as my having read the review before sending my kid to the movie. Because I didn't. Because I am just that lazy. Thank you and good night.
** Which, in itself, is kind of ridiculous, since during the blind date at which we met, I ordered French toast, swimming in butter and syrup, and bacon. What can I say - it didn't occur to me to order an egg-white omelet. That is just not how I roll.
*** By which I mean sit on the couch and dance only with my shoulders and arms. Gently.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Kooky, Not Spooky
Generally, around this time of year, the Blah Blah family is occupied with Halloween – in particular, with Viva’s costume. Ever since Viva became old enough to have an opinion about Halloween, she has favored the selection of a costume that not everyone else will have. Thus, last year, amidst a swarm of princesses and pirates in her class, she stood out as the very memorable elephant clown:
Speaking of which, Sweet Dub also purchased a costume. I am not sure what compelled him to do this because I have known him for 7 years and he never has. But you know, that Sweet Dub, he is unpredictable. On Saturday, while Viva was out of the house, he tried it on:
Have I mentioned that it is painful for me to laugh? You know, because of the recent abdominal surgery?
Why is he trying to kill me?
This year, Viva decided quite early on that she wanted to be Bat Cat.
If you are not familiar with the television program (programme? It’s British) Charlie and Lola (or if you’ve only seen one or two episodes), you may not be aware of this particular superhero. Bat Cat is a television character in Charlie and Lola’s world, and their favorite superhero. Lola has a Bat Cat lunchbox and there is an episode where Charlie and Lola make up a Bat Cat story where Bat Cat saves Squabbles the dog’s hairbrush from a burning building. Bat Cat is a cat who dresses up like a bat. He can fly (he has a cape), but other than that, I’m not aware of any other superpowers. Viva is quite taken by Bat Cat, and Sweet Dub has encouraged this fascination by creating his own stories about Bat Cat, complete with alter ego whose name I can’t possibly reveal here.
Do you see where this is going?
If you are not familiar with the television program (programme? It’s British) Charlie and Lola (or if you’ve only seen one or two episodes), you may not be aware of this particular superhero. Bat Cat is a television character in Charlie and Lola’s world, and their favorite superhero. Lola has a Bat Cat lunchbox and there is an episode where Charlie and Lola make up a Bat Cat story where Bat Cat saves Squabbles the dog’s hairbrush from a burning building. Bat Cat is a cat who dresses up like a bat. He can fly (he has a cape), but other than that, I’m not aware of any other superpowers. Viva is quite taken by Bat Cat, and Sweet Dub has encouraged this fascination by creating his own stories about Bat Cat, complete with alter ego whose name I can’t possibly reveal here.
Do you see where this is going?
Of course, there is no such thing as a pre-made Bat Cat costume. Fortunately, both Bat Cat and Batman seem to have an affinity for black, grey, and yellow. Hence, we bought a Batman suit, which I split down the back, added a cat’s tail* to from the inside, and sewed back up. I also cut off the mask from the cap, and I need to shorten the cape so you can see her tail. Right now I am working on modifying the utility belt and I have created a Bat Cat logo to go across her chest and cover up the Batman symbol. Sweet Dub actually deigned to cross the threshold of the craft store and brought me back several squares of felt, so yesterday I made patterns and cut and pinned most of the logo together. I am pleased that (a) it’s actually coming together and looking good and (b) I had the time to do this because I’m on medical leave.
I will post pictures when it’s complete so you can all enjoy the cuteness. Or at least have a laugh.
I will post pictures when it’s complete so you can all enjoy the cuteness. Or at least have a laugh.
Speaking of which, Sweet Dub also purchased a costume. I am not sure what compelled him to do this because I have known him for 7 years and he never has. But you know, that Sweet Dub, he is unpredictable. On Saturday, while Viva was out of the house, he tried it on:
He also ran wildly about the yard in a deranged performance that completely validated my decision to merge my life with his, 'til death do us part, etc. I have video, but it is very jumpy:
Have I mentioned that it is painful for me to laugh? You know, because of the recent abdominal surgery?
Why is he trying to kill me?
* Not from a real cat. No animals were harmed in the assemblage of Viva's costume.
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