Things that make me happy

I've been in a funk.

Mostly a blogging funk, but when we had to cancel the family road-trip to the west coast (breaking my mom's heart) due to automobile kerfluckedness, THEN suffered a self-imposed home-exile due to abhorrence to dealing with lice or lice-related issues any more than we had to. We did some fun stuff on our holidays, but still, it was no road-trip, and couldn't even be considered a bait-and-switch.

Then there was BlogHer. I didn't go last year, it didn't even occur to me to go (it did occur to me to make fun of it). This year was the same, except it DID occur to me to go. I'd befriended some pretty cool people in February (I mean IRL, they were already befriended) and there were mutterings of several of them going. Plus it was in New York. NEW FREAKING YORK! I don't have a bucket list, but if I did, going to New York would be on it (Chicago? check). I would have loved to see them all again & party in New Yawk. Seeing the photos, and even the videos, made me so sad I was shocked at myself. There isn't necessarily "always next year", as the people I want to see won't necessarily be there.

I decided to battle the crappy feelings by taking Nenette's lead (sure it was a month ago. I told you: blogging funk. I PASSED UP A MEME for crying out loud!) & coming up with some of the simple things that make me happy. I used her criteria: none of the obvious – family, friends, socio-economic status...

The happy list (in progress):

1. Pasta, specifically spaghetti, with butter & salt
2. My Ecco shoes – I've always heard tell of the magic shoe that feels like pillows on your feet. These are them, for me.
3. My bed. I was nearly 40 before I threw a hissy fit and got – no, invested in a real bed. Not going into what we had before, because this is about what makes me happy!
4. Sushi. With my GFs; with Max; with the kids; when Max makes it; with my sister. All are completely different experiences and all make me happy.
5. My sister's expecting. In February. I'm so freaking excited, but it's just not What We Do to be all weepy & squealy (besides, she'd slap me). I'm glad Norah did that when she found out. It was like I was jumping and squealing vicariously through her. She is going to kick my ASS for putting it here. HA! If she ever read it!
6. Taking photographs (with film). Haven't done it (really done it) in a long, long time, but it did make me happy.
7. Minesweeper. Shut up.
8. Washing my face. After some 35 years of fighting with skin products, I was looking up some Major Home Exfoliation Ritual that I think I found through Bionic Beauty and at the end of it they said, "or just use a rough face cloth & hot water" (???) so that is all I do now and it feels sooooo good. Add a touch of light moisturizer, and it sure doesn't hurt the happiness scale that Max says "mmm you smell so good"
9. Elizabeth I
10. Lasagne
11. My parents' cottage lot. It has coexisting promises of a future of family gathering & relaxing solitude at the same time.
12. xkcd
13. Getting @ replies
14. When the clock reads 12:34
15. Seeing hot-air balloon in the sky (haven't seen any this year, wtf?)
16. Painting my toes. Well, ok, my toe-nails. Although with my skill-level, I should just stick to calling it "painting my toes". But whatever, it makes me happy.
17. Getting a pedicure. Thanks to Rougie, I'm going to go by myself on my birthday (unless I get a better offer???)
18. Working in the garden

Wow. Lots of simple stuff makes me happy. What makes YOU happy?

(OMG! I really want some buttery/salty pasta RFN!)

Infestation

Non-stereotypically of girls, I don't mind bugs. Bugs who bother me – eat my food or my person or that of my family & friends, or hang out in our immediate space – must die. It's simple. But they generally don't creep me out^[1].

That was before lice. The other day I found a creepy crawly in The Boy's hair. And I lost my shit. It's been four days now and it hasn't found its way back.

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It seems like I'm now in this exclusive club that includes, oh I don't know, EVERYONE! My casual discussions this week:

"Oh yeah, we were sitting eating breakfast and I saw this bug dart out of her hairline on her forehead"

WHAT WHAT WHAAAAT???

"He said 'Mom, my head itches' and he hadn't had a shower for a few days so I scrubbed his scalp extra and when he got out he said 'MOOOOM it still itches!' so I checked him closer and yeah, he was crawling with them"

HOW DID YOU NOT BURN YOUR OWN HOUSE DOWN???

"She must have got it from a new hat I let her wear without washing it. She was crawling with them"

NOW *I* WANT TO BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN!!! AND MINE!!!

Rational thought eventually kind of took over with the realization that washing every single washable item in the house seventeen-thousand times is STILL EASIER TO MANAGE than rebuilding with null-and-void insurance and a jail-term for arson (full disclosure: Max hid all the flammable implements).

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I understand that it has nothing to do with your cleanliness, or tidiness or how good or not good your parenting is. Believe me I understand this. With the nearly monthly letters sent home saying "someone in your child's class has lice, blah blah blah" they really try to hammer that home (rightly so). Besides, if it DID have anything to do with my ability as a housekeeper, I would have had lice since – oh, I don't know, my early 20s. But that doesn't keep me feeling like a filthy hobo (and not the sexy kind, that the gentlemen seem to find so endearing); OR my family from treating each other like lepers.

All told, I think it was caught extremely early. The cases above are more likely what would have happened if there hadn't been a miraculous fluke of me inspecting Stewie's scalp, as he'd been having some seborrhoea (what's called "cradle cap" in babies – also gross, but y'know, not a MOTHERFUCKINGPARASITE). [Aside: I now have a rock-steady handle on the scalp-health of everyone in this family.]

I bought the treatment (cornered and grilled the pharmacist for about half an hour) and applied it, then decided to go a little more CSI on everyone else. Norah turned up positive. Max & Pepper are negative (so far). Myself? It took the awesome nerd-slinging power of the microscope^[2] to overwhelm my denial with scientific proof, so I've been treated too. (He climbed into bed in the morning before I found them. The little bastard is so snugly! And he still says "I wuff you, Mummy")

We'll treat again, as directed: 7 days after first treatment. And, by all accounts, about six to eight weeks from the "all clear", I might slow the meticulous checks down to every other day. Until then, I toy with the idea of shaving my head, but I can't seem to find any sharp implements, either…

^[1] Don't test that, I said "generally"

^[2] What, you don't have a microscope in your home? Get off the internet & don't try and call yourself a nerd until you've rectified the situation. Electron not necessary.

Live Tweeting the spectacle:

Found head lice on The Boy. From what I've read, for the amount of bugs I now feel crawling all over me, I'd expect to be way higher.

Lice: I mean, it's not like the bed didn't need vacuuming anyway, right? RIGHT?

Bad: Kid-with-brush-cut having lice. Worse: Kid-with-long-hair-who-hates-brushing-it-like-ever confirmed. Better: 3 of us remain pure.

Also: motherfucking headache.

Also: hot water tank (which was never really resolved) acting up. KIND OF NEED HOT WATER TO KILL IT ALL.

Did I mention motherfucking headache?

New challenge: keep lice-free kid from picking through the head of infested one.

I really should have read through fine-print of the EULA for Parenting. Instead, we were all "oooo babies are soooooo cute!" [ACCEPT]

Are lice treatments tax-deductible? How about the booze treatments? You know. For me.

OH: "don't threaten your sister with your head". OK, it was me. I've just gone to my happy-place & am laughing at everything I'm watching.

OMG!!! This changes everything: "Stop [current offensive behavior] or you'll catch lice from your brother". How long can I pull this off?

If 10 yrs ago you had told me I'd be vacuuming pillows at midnight, I'd have said "who the hell are you?"

Also: "maybe you could foretell something a little more useful? Like what kind of car I'll be driving?"

Holding On By Letting Go

It was our anniversary yesterday. 17 years.

If some crazy old time-machine version of myself had told me 20 years ago that I would be married for this long, I would have either (a) not believed them, because hey, who believes crazy old versions of themselves claiming to have a time-machine? Or (b) stood on the edge of a lake and yelled "in your FACE Cosmos!" given that I came from the failed marriage of two people themselves products of failed marriages. Probably both, because "a" is pretty insurmountable, but I probably couldn't pass up the opportunity to yell "in your face" to anyone, let alone someone as daunting as The Cosmos (plus, when faced with time-machined versions of yourself, you may as well act out in equally crazy ways).

I don't feel very "in your face" though now. If it all fell apart tomorrow, it would still be a failure and History would have its way, repeating and all. So of course it's still a work-in-progress (Grandparents #2 split after over 30 years – though by all accounts 30 miserable years, marriage-wise).

It's best not to try and keep score with TC (it tends to have the upper hand, being Cosmos and all). So rather than try & beat odds and battle statistics, we've opted to work within and enjoy the ride. That's not a euphemism for anything (unless it is).

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Yesterday, we didn't celebrate. We split off and I handled Stewie's fifth birthday party (mini-golf with seven 5 & 6 year olds and a 10 year old helper – HELP!) and he sheparded Pepper through a softball tournament (eight hours in scorching tropical heat with my sister's un-air-conditioned car. Hard to say which is the short straw.) Then, he had a stag to go to (Me: [snide, probing-but-indirect remarks intended to sniff out what's on the "menu"] Him: "We're watching Ultimate Fighting" Me: "is it girls fighting?" Him: "Wow. That *would* be Ultimate!" Me: [sigh][punch]).

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Except maybe a Spa day.

And maybe I'll go whisper "in your face" at the edge of a puddle.

My First Venn Diagram

I was about 12 when I created my first Venn diagram (that I remember). I didn't realize that that's what I'd done, nor did I (shocking Nerdlinger admission) actually *draw* it out.

I was in the bathroom, probably sitting on the toilet (though that point is not particularly relevant). I was playing with the plunger (remember, 12) when I stuck it to the floor & pulled.

Up popped a floor tile.

"dammit!"

OK, I might not have cursed, but it was entirely possible - and possibly, you know, worse, as I'm pretty sure I've been a potty-mouth since I could talk. If I did, I *might* have been smart enough to keep it under my breath (but no guarantees).

"DAMMIT!!" Because I suddenly realized the following Reasons I Am Busted:

(Thank you, thank you. Yes, it's good to be back. OK OK, put down that rake, violence will solve nothing)

Influence

One hundred years ago today (March 29), my Grandma was born.

Left: She and I at her London Street house c. 1969; Right: About 30 years later, months prior to the emergence of her first great-grandchild

Grandma's been gone for just over four years, and I miss her terribly. But her mark on my life was indelible, so since she has passed, I have had far less of a sense of loss than I imagined I might. She has really not gone anywhere.

As a woman of my generation and socio-geo-nomic upbringing, it's easy to become complacent about my lot in life. It's easy to wave off the fact that I vote and have an education and a decent job. That I am surrounded by people who accept it as a natural decision of circumstance within a family, that the father be at home with the kids. Or the mother.

There are two kinds of people (yes, I said "people") who have put me here today: there are those who spoke out & marched & fought & litigated & fought & marched some more; and there are those who just did. Grandma just did. Every day.

The Three Lessons From Grandma, that she never, ever said out loud:

1. Get yourself an education. And don't stop.
2. NO ONE can make you feel inferior without your permission (I realize that Eleanor Roosevelt said that, but Grandma lived it)
3. Do not take yourself too seriously, dammit!

Without words, every one of those lessons has been threaded through my person, as I've tried to emulate her spirit in an entirely different life & time. #2 is hard, but I think I'm doing OK.

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Happy Great-Grandma Norah Day!

(Pepper named the day, on Grandma's first birthday after she passed. She saw it marked on the calendar, she decided we should do something about it. So we did!)

Class

Yesterday (Thursday) afternoon, I'm sitting in a colleague's office. We'll call him "Him". By way of background, we may have been known to banter a little. I might have just been riding him for stammering when I asked him what his wife did (he was really only pausing to determine into how much detail to go).

Him: "OK, so I'll get this [answer/drawing/chain letter] back to you tomorrow."

Me: "I'll be away all day tomorrow"

Him (faking incredulity): "How come YOU get a day off?!"

Me (getting attitude)(I know, strange): "*Actually*, I'll be in class all day. Saturday too."

Him (feeding on my attitude): "Really? Is it dance class?"

Me (now mustering all the bring-it-the-fuck-on-asshole I can)(possibly going for a smidgen of shock-value)(I can't say for sure)(it was a pretty snap decision): "Yes. It's pole dancing."

Him (not skipping a beat): "I didn't know you're Polish!"

Composure decimated.

I love my co workers (not like that)(don't tell them).

Parenting... It's All About Communication

I yell: "STAND STILL SO I CAN TAKE YOUR PICTURE!":



I whisper: "chocolate chips":

(Actually, everything in all of life is all about communication, but that's a topic for a different post. One filed under "d'uh".)