Friday, February 25, 2005
Linkyloo!
For your viewing pleasure, my pretties:
Taters!
Via Fleming, it's Litterbox!
# posted by Amanda at 7:00 PM |
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Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Former guitarist for Korn Brian Welch leaves band, now sings "Got the Life [with Jesus]".
# posted by Amanda at 6:25 AM |
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Saturday, February 19, 2005
Sophie is currently in a phase of constant narration. Everything she sees, hears or does is subject to commentary. Her language skills are developing through her observations of the world around her, and most of the time we encourage her by coaxing forth lengthier descriptions.
And then there are the times when observant is NOT WHAT WE WANT.
We decided to go out to breakfast this morning before running errands. The nearest restaurant - nearness being a most important factor these days - is a slightly hole-in-the-wall waterfront establishment with a patronage consisting mainly of charter boat fishers and local residents. In case there's any question, "local" is the polite way of saying "rough-looking dude". People around here seem to be mostly harmless, but uh, we're not trying to pick a fight with them to find out.
About halfway through our meal, a local couple came in and sat at the table directly behind us. The man was a beefy guy - tall and wide - with long, stringy gray hair and a generally pissy demeanor. Unfortunately, as it turns out, he also had Tourette's.
"Bork!"
Sophie whipped her head around to look at the guy. Sean and I held our breath. This is, afterall, the very same child who gleefully informed a lesbian that she had "man's hair".
"Hey! Daddy, there's a MAN back there!"
After a few seconds of silently watching the guy, Sophie turned her attention back to her food. We continued eating.
"Bork!"
*Whip* went the head again. We called Sophie's attention back to her food, our table, the ducks swimming outside the restaurant, anywhere but what was going on behind us.
"Bork! BORK!"
Oh dear god. The borking was picking up pace. By that point, I had started to realize that it would only be a matter of time before Sophie informed the guy that he was BORKING. And that he had lady's hair.
"Bork! Bork-bork!"
I fished cash out of my purse to pay the bill and flashed Sean an incredulous look when he calculated that I was overpaying the tip by 42 cents. (!) Never in my life have I more earnestly meant it when I said keep the change. We scooped up Sophie and fled.
The second we hit the parking lot, Sean and I looked at each other and said, in unison, "BORK!"
# posted by Amanda at 9:06 PM |
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The Attack of the Internet Meanies seems to be gathering steam out there in blog land. Worse? Lately, the catalyst for the nastiness has been the writers' experiences as parents. Dooce and her family continue to be favorite targets, but Finslippy and others have been under siege recently, as well. Typical reader feedback aside, the apparently increasing trend of personal attacks is a whole new level of ugly.
I've been fortunate in the comments received about this site and others I've had over the years. Thus far, the worst we've had to deal with was some rather impotent idiocy from a couple of people who were dumb enough to do it with fake email addresses YET SEND THE EMAILS FROM THEIR WORK IPs. Their VERY SPECIFIC and EASILY TRACEABLE work IPs. (O, why must The Stupid have access to the internet?!) Something about being able to deliver a blow from behind the duckblind of comments posted on someone else's website or via email emboldens people to be far more confrontational than they'd ever be in person. It's cowardly, and in the most extreme of cases, it's unconscionable.
For those who need it, here's an easy-to-follow solution for what to do when you find that you don't like a particular website or the person who operates it: JUST DON'T GO THERE. Don't read the site, don't send the writer your pricky little someone-pissed-in-my-cornflakes comments, and FOR CHRISSAKE don't be cruel towards the writer's young child or flippant about what the family is going through. Lashing out at someone because what she writes doesn't resonate with you, well, newsflash: HER SITE, HER STORY. Go tell your own story elsewhere.
For the writers who have the strength to shrug off the negative experiences and keep writing without worrying about when or where the next blow is going to land: y'all have a hell of a crunchy outer shell. RESPEK.
# posted by Amanda at 12:33 PM |
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Friday, February 18, 2005
The first lamb of the season from Sean's sister's flock. We think that the father might be Toby...the resemblance IS uncanny.
# posted by Amanda at 7:31 AM |
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Wednesday, February 16, 2005
At the moment, the house is strangely clean and less cluttered than usual. This realization sent me into tiny little panic attacks all day. I kept thinking oh my god, we must be having company and I can't remember who it is! Then I would remember, hey, no walls ripped open, no rooms partially painted, no toilets in the garage...obviously, we're not expecting any visitors here. Ah yes, the beauty of the checks and balances system that is juggling paranoia and mania.
Endorsements
- Have you seen Napoleon Dynamite yet? Quirky in a good way, yet mild enough not to offend your grandmommy. It'll make you want to slip "DANG!" and "FLIPPIN'!" into your heavy-rotation vocabulary.
- Bath & Body Works' new Tutti Dolci collection is pleasantly yummy. I personally recommend the Lemon Meringue Crème Body Wash. Mmm, pie!
- Beck's "E-Pro" grew on me after a couple of listens. I find that I'm increasingly inclined to make more of an effort to like music from names I know rather than new bands. Is that an age thing? Warning, next stop: refusing to try new restaurants and making comments like, "I ALWAYS shop at the same grocery store/go to the same gas station/wear blue socks on Tuesdays."
Charity
Since shortly after Sophie was born, I've been feeling a need to get involved with a charity as a way of expressing gratitude for my healthy, happy little crib critter. By "get involved with", I mean something more than just writing a check to an organization that begs a donation on a day when I just happen to be feeling unusually generous. Plus there is the issue of, well, not so much worthiness as resonance: wanting to actively participate in a cause that not only makes a difference but also MAKES SENSE on a personal level.
Eureka, here it is: Project Linus, an organization that distributes handmade blankets to sick children. "Make a Blanket Day" is this Saturday, February 19th. If you can knit, quilt or even cut out pieces of fabric to be used in a blanket, consider finding a chapter and participating. I bought a few yards of soft flannel to make a quilt. Stay tuned for pictures of the project!
# posted by Amanda at 8:50 PM |
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Sunday, February 13, 2005
Oh, The Places You'll Go (That You Won't Even Know You've Been)
When I was still very new to having (1) a blog - and it pains me to use that term, since the blogging mystique is so hot right now that a televised network interview with Heather B. Armstrong would have the power to pre-empt the Shrub's next State of the Union event during a full-blown nuclear war (although, most likely, so would Britney Spears-Federline's pregnancy announcement) - or rather a personal website in blog format, and (2) site statistics related to the latest incarnation of said personal website, Allura was frequently on the listening end of my rants about INCONSIDERATE BUTTNUGGETS WHO HOTLINK PHOTOS. The practice of SUCKING MY BANDWIDTH peeves me into a hot, frothy rage. Allura, being the long-time web celebrity that she is, and having Jedi wisdom and a dash of Zen gained from years of being at it, pretty much said welcome to the game, Young Grasshopper. Photos, content, designs, etc. get "borrowed" all the time. Sometimes permission is requested a priori, sometimes it isn't. That's just how it goes. Ohhhhm.
So it came as no surprise tonight when I stumbled upon a photo of Allura's very own Matty Kitty in this JPG vs. GIF quiz. Fourth kitty down on the right side, the partially shaved grey Persian with the [since vanished] lone protuding fang. This is just not a cat that anyone could confuse with any other cat on earth.
Matty, what's a nice kitty like you doing in a place like that?
# posted by Amanda at 11:19 PM |
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Friday, February 11, 2005
The sound of my morning commute:
Sophie: We're ready to blast off! Where'd our house go? There's Wadey's house! Now we're going up...and now we're going down...and now we're going---hey! A schoolbus! MOMMY! I SEE TWO SCHOOLBUSSES! THE WHEELS ON THE BUS GO ROUND AND ROUND... Mommy, where are all the duckies?
Me: Umm, I dunno, maybe they're in their little duck houses.
Sophie: (in a tone indicating that she thinks I might be just slightly retarded) Nooo, Mommy, ducks don't live in houses! They live in the water.
Me: Oh, my mistake. (turns on radio) Let's listen to some music now.
Sophie: No, Mommy, not this music. (flaps hand at me) NEW music. Change it. (repeats this until we find something she likes, which happens to be Guns N Roses "Paradise City" - ARGH! - which she then proceeds to sing B-I-N-G-O right overtop in what is perhaps the most bizarre match-up in history) MOMMY! I SEE AN AIRPLANE! And ANOTHER airplane! I FOUND TWO AIRPLANES! Ew, buzzards over there. Ew ew ew. Hey! Grammom's house! There's Granddad! HI GRANDDAD! But where is Grammom? Oh, there she is! GRAMMOM! I BROUGHT PURPLE BUNNY TODAY! Bye, Mommy, see you later.
Repeat in approximate reverse for the effect of my evening commute.
# posted by Amanda at 12:43 PM |
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Saturday, February 05, 2005
My alma mater keeps sending me their alumni magazine, which I can only assume is part of their continued effort to suck a donation out of me. This despite the fact that I have repeatedly told them HAHAHAHA GO ASK ALUMNI WHOSE ADVISORS DIDN'T GO ON SABBATICAL MIDWAY THROUGH THEIR GRADUATE PROGRAMS. The back cover of the latest edition of the magazine has a photo of crowds of people - adults and children - frolicking in the McKeldin Fountain. This leads me to the conclusion that the collective bunch of people who photographed the scene, selected it for the layout and then approved it for print HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE ABOUT THE SECRET LIFE OF MCKELDIN FOUNTAIN. No one who was ever a student at UMCP and has been anywhere near that fountain on a Friday or Saturday night would voluntarily take their family wading in it.
FOOLS.
Let me explain: McKeldin Fountain is in the middle of a large grassy area in the approximate middle of campus, which is the halfway point between the fraternity houses and two-thirds of the dorms. After an extended off-campus evening drinking jungle juice* served "party style" out of large plastic trashcans**, followed by a lurching walk back to campus, McKeldin Fountain comes along right about the time that our young beermongers realize that they really really need to pee or really really need to puke. Essentially, on party nights, the fountain becomes campus' largest outdoor public toilet.
Doesn't that just make you wanna gather up your young'uns and baptize them in college waters?
* Recipe for Jungle Juice: Grain alcohol, Kool-Aid (any flavor) and the wishful thinking of a couple dozen hormonal young guys.
** Yes. It was elegant. And then during our walk back to campus, my friend Carrie went for a swim in McKeldin Fountain while somebody else (NOT ME, I SWEAR) puked into it. So people, I KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT HERE.
# posted by Amanda at 1:04 PM |
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Wednesday, February 02, 2005
A certain individual with whom I interact several times a week at her place of employment was recently conspicuously absent for about a week and a half. It wasn't the first time that she had taken an unplanned personal sabbatical. Usually she returns to the job with an improved outlook. This time she returned with a friend that ONLY SHE CAN SEE. Evidently the invisible entity is quite the conversationalist, too. I'm never sure whether to be entertained or alarmed by people who talk to open spaces.
A friend once told me about the oddballs he sometimes encountered while slugging from Northern Virginia into DC. He once rode with a driver who had a puppet on one hand throughout the entire commute. Other than occasionally asking the puppet for lane change advice, the guy seemed perfectly normal.
Whatever it takes to get through the day, I guess.
Intentionally Distracting Pet Photo:
Mmm, fire-roasted slug cat.
It's Official: the Girl Has ALREADY Gone Wild
Speaking of meals, Sophie has been a wee bit iffy in the department of acceptable public dining practices lately. There was the very nervewracking company dinner in December and more recently the intensely mortifying plate throwing incident at the Baltimore Hard Rock Cafe. We're having a family dinner at a rather putting-on-the-dog French restaurant in the High Rent District this weekend and have been waffling on whether Sophie should come along. It's a family event and she'll be missed, but then again the place probably serves on less hardy china than the Hard Rock. Hmm, what to do, what to do... Sophie decided the issue for us tonight while we were at yet another restaurant [that won't allow us to return] by suddenly an inexplicably pointing at the floor and shrieking, "Ew, ew, a mouse RIGHT THERE!" It should be noted that THERE WAS NO MOUSE. Not that that stopped the other patrons from checking.
Also fun this week is the bitter battle waged daily over what Little Miss will and will not wear. Naturally this involves ALL types of garments (WHY OH WHY are there never enough Elmo-emblazoned diapers per package to satisfy the demand?!) and is prone to changing without warning at any given moment. Earlier this week, there was a day when Sophie wouldn't keep a shirt on. Pant, shoes, socks, hair accessories? No problem. Shirt? Pulled off and flung away. Then she put on her beaded necklaces and did some topless dancing to one of her kidsongs CDs.
Because, you know, every day is Mardi Gras here at Cheezleton Manor.
# posted by Amanda at 7:40 PM |
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