Journal of a Working Mom, or, Up From Sloth

Century

2009-08-18T18:37:00.000-07:00

My grandmother, Mary Alice Bookhart, would have turned 100 today.

Blah Blah

2009-07-28T17:57:00.000-07:00

Since I last checked my blog, my dashboard grew a new tab called "Monetize." I'm intrigued only because I'm curious as to what ads would run. If it's anything like FaceSpace, you'd be seeing ads for teeth whiteners and alternatives to Botox right now. And that would be about as depressing as they are on FaceSpace--yes, I know I'm OLD dammit, I don't have to be continually reminded of it with your sneaky targeted ads! Show me an ad for some kind of hipster band or trendy clothing store and I might actually click on the link because I'd be so grateful not to be taken for an old person!

I read somewhere that the most famous of mommy bloggers--you know who I'm talking about, and I think she's GREAT--makes $40K/month. Though she has THOUSANDS of readers and I have maybe 15. (Not to mention the talent thing.)

Not much else going on here. I think I'm used to the heat--what else can you do? It's not like it's going to get cooler in AUGUST, or even September, so I think we just have to deal until it finally breaks in mid-October. For a while, I was staying indoors and making sure I never went out without water and all that, and now I'm just living my life as usual.

We have spent more time swimming this summer, though. It's been nice because this time last year H.M. was just on the cusp of learning to swim and, while she could swim, looked like she was drowning while doing it. Which was a bit unnerving. This year she has it down pat and swims like a fish.

I have a post half-written in my head about heaven. So look for that.

I'm BAAACK!

2009-07-16T19:31:00.001-07:00

Hello! Howya been?

Hot? As hell? Me too. I got two words for you: prickly heat. Yes, something I thought was a malady of infants and perhaps very old people. But I managed to get it, and have been an itchy, welty mess for going on a week now. I have tried everything--lotions, powder, collodial oatmeal baths, antihistamines--and I can keep it at bay for a little while, but short of staying indoors until the heat breaks (October, perhaps?) I may be stuck with it.

So, anyhoo, sorry for the long delay. I never intended to let this blog go, but life has been eventful lately and I just couldn't bring myself to write about it all. Plus I have come to the conclusion that writing is a muscle and unless you exercise it regularly, it's very easy to get out of shape.

Nevertheless, now that my life is a little more settled, I'm going to try to start writing again.

First big news: I have a new job. When last I left you, dear readers, I had applied for a position and was in limbo, not knowing what would happen with it. Well, over the course of what felt like FOREVER, I had one interview, and then a second interview, and then an actual job offer. YES! As some of you may remember from last year, much had occurred at my little non-profit, and I had hoped that things would get better and they appeared to for a little while, but then they got worse again, and I stopped believing that I would ever be able to salvage any of the once-warm feelings I had for the place. So, it was time to start looking again. And, lo and behold! A State job turned up that is a combination of my 2 previous careers: librarian and development/communications officer.

How could a girl refuse?

So I'm one week in at my new place of employment, and am cautiously optimistic. No job is perfect, of course, but it seems like the kind of place where I can settle in, do good work, and live my life outside of 8-5.

Other big news that occurred over the same time period: a close family member (not in my household, but close) was diagnosed with a terrible, horrible, no-good, incurable, degenerative disease. The kind of disease where I had to give serious thought to how I might have to stop working and become a caregiver. I found that I just couldn't allow myself to think about it too much, as I was already tied up in knots re. the job situation and my head might have exploded if I really thought about the future too much. (And the future is grim, dear readers. Where I may be in 5 or so years may have to be the subject of a completely different blog.)

HOWEVER. There are drugs to treat this disease and said family member is responding wonderfully. In such a way that this person is surprising her or his doctor's. It feels like a glorious reprieve, though we have no way of knowing how long it will last.

And if I'm being coy it's because this family member has chosen not to share this diagnosis with others outside immediate family and close friends for the time being. And I have to respect that choice. If you aren't looking for symptoms, it's not that obvious in day-to-day interactions.

So, yes, life has been interesting. In other news, the kiddos are fine. Her Majesty starts kindergarten in 5 weeks, and I have only one daycare payment left. FOREVER. We are doing the summer camp shuffle with Wonder Boy (who should now be called Wonder Pre-Adolescent) which is only challenging in that I planned summer camp when I was working in one location and am now working in an entirely different location so have much more driving at rush hour than I was anticipating. (My afternoons over the last 2 weeks? Driving from my temporary offices at I-35 and 290, to W.B.'s Magic Camp in deep East Austin off Cesar Chavez to Her Majesty's daycare at 34th and Mopac. And then home to South Austin. Yes, I am beat down at the end of the day.)

Pod is fine. His band has put the finishing touches on a CD they've been working on for 9 (?) months, and it sounds terrific. Produced by a guy who recently moved to C. TX from Chicago and who was part of the music scene there--was friends with Jay Bennett and all that. The CD sounds great.

Well, that's it. That's my exciting life. I'll be back with new stories and adventures directly.

I Just Want to Be Friends

2009-04-25T08:19:00.000-07:00

"So, blog, I think we need a little time apart. I need some time on my own and I think we should start seeing other social media. I've made some new friends--you know them, Facebook and Twitter?--and I'm kind of hanging out with them these days. Let's just take a break for a while and see what happens, umkay?"

Seriously, dear readers, this is not the end. I just need a short break. There's a LOT of stuff up in the air right now that I can't share with you, as much as I 'd like to. I suspect that in another month or two things will be more settled and I can start writing again. Just not right now.

I'll be back...

Blegh!

2009-04-08T12:44:00.000-07:00

Oh, dear readers, I have just had my first television interview. If "visibly nervous" and "addled" was the look was I going for, I succeeded admirably. I'm not saying which station it was for or when it's airing, no way. Because I have friends--and you know who you are--who will find the most unflattering clip of me in the interview and make sure that it gets circulated to everyone who knows me.

If you happen to see the interview, lie to me and tell me I was great.

Also I caught sight of myself in the monitor and I looked like Jabba the Hutt.

Emoticom time.

\:-<

Run, Don't Walk

2009-03-31T17:22:00.000-07:00

To your locally-owned record store and purchase the new Decemberists album. Jaysus, it's good. Here's a review:

Library Books

2009-03-25T17:32:00.001-07:00

The central branch of the Austin Public Library is closed for about six weeks while they do some repairs so I'm venturing out to other branches on my lunch hour. I've discovered a tiny branch in a crappy strip mall at the corner of Oltorf and S. Congress that has a really good selection of new books. I mentioned this to the librarian there today and he said that the branch was moving to the old p.o. at S. 5th and Mary and was trying what he called a "bookstore model"--that is, the branch was going to be devoted almost exclusively to new books. I love this idea.

I know at least 2 readers who are public library devotees like me and who live in S. Austin--this is a head's up if you hadn't already heard.

So, this is what I checked out today:

Stuff White People Like, by Christian Lander. Based on the website. I know that some people hate this site and other people love it. I have to say that based on this line in #10, Wes Anderson Movies, "White people love Wes Anderson movies more than they love their kids," I'm digging it.
Awesome, by Jack Pendarvis. I'm not entirely sure what this is about. Giants? Semen-powered cars? I can't quite tell, but it's logrolled by Barry Hannah and George Saunders which is promising. And I liked the cover.
Nose Down, Eyes Up, by Merrill Markoe. It's a dog book. I think she has a blog because her name is familiar and I associate it with funny. We'll see.
The Urban Hermit, by Sam MacDonald. Memoir about a guy who tries to live on $8.00 and 800 calories a day. Neal Pollack calls it, "like a weight-loss manual written by Hunter Thompson," which made me cackle.
Unimagined: A Muslim Boy Meets the West, by Imran Ahmad. Title pretty much says it all. Logrolled by one of my favorite British comedy writers, Sue Townsend. (BTW, if you haven't read Sue Townsend's Adrian Mole Diaries, go out immediately and buy them.)
Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven, by Susan Jane Gilman. MH, is it you who loved Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress? Same author, new memoir.
More Information Than You Require, by John Hodgman. 'Nuff said.
Vampyres of Hollywood, by Adrienne Barbeau and Michael Scott. If I had noticed that Adrienne Barbeau was one of the authors when I picked it up, I probably would have put it right back. (Not that I don't think Adrienne Barbeau is awesome, but I don't tend to read fiction written by movie stars, only their autobiographies.) I'm also very suspicious of this whole "let's take every genre and add vampires" shtick in popular lit. But I do love a good Hollywood story. So I'll try it. (PS--this was VERY good.)
Beat the Reaper, by Josh Bazell. Medical thriller, I think. Looks a little more literate than most.

In other news, I bought an IPhone. (Thank you IRS refund!) I like it so much I want to French-kiss it.

A Cautionary Tale (Long Post Warning)

2009-03-18T19:05:00.000-07:00

First, I must begin with the purse.

Many many years ago--possibly 1987 or so--I ran across the perfect club-going purse at Banana Republic. Tiny, with a buckle on the front and a long strap to wear across one's body. Ideal for clubs where you didn't want to leave your purse just sitting somewhere when "How Soon is Now" came on and you wanted to dance. Exactly the right size to hold driver's license, some money, your keys and a pack of smokes. I bought two, one in black and one in tan. Anyone who knows me from back in the day will probably remember those purses.

And, because I never throw away accessories, I held onto them after my clubbing days were long behind me. Because I thought, someday these might come in handy again.

Flash forward to 2009. The hubster and kiddos are out of town and I am on mine ownself and am taking in SXSW for the first time in years. Last night, a late night show at Pangaea (sp?) to see Gomez and the Decemberists. (Fantastic, BTW.) And, tonight, a meeting with some gal pals at the Pop Culture Press party at Dog and Duck to enjoy some good beer (Magic Hat, not readily available in Austin, a friend tells me, but very tasty) and live music, including a band I had completely forgotten, That Petrol Emotion (successor band to The Undertones, y'all!).

So I dig out my little black purse. Still perfect, now fits my drivers license, cell phone, passkey to get into my office garage, money, check card, gadget that unlocks my car, business cards, a pack of smokes, and a few other necessary odds and ends. And I'm delighted to be wearing it again, and am even thinking about how I can call it "vintage" I walk from my office to Dog and Duck after work today.

Sooo, after the 10 block walk to Dog and Duck, my tiny bladder is demanding immediate relief so I avail myself of the portapotties set up outside the show. (Inside bathroom is closed, yes, I checked).

And because the purse hangs down low, I remove it and set it on the tiny ledge in the portapotty and turn around to, well, do my business.

And that's when it happens...

I stepped on the ping-pong ball.

No wait, that's Auntie Mame, sorry.

I hear, ker thunk, SPLASH.

Did you just say, "oh NO?"

And I say, oh yes.

My purse FELL IN THE PORTAPOTTY. Yes, in there with that blue liquid with all the filth and the toilet paper and the cigarette butts and God knows what else.

And in my purse was all my money, the passkey to get in the garage where my car was parked, my drivers license, the gadget that unlocks my car, my check card, my cell phone, and my cigarettes.

Well, what would YOU do?

First I yelled, "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH FUCK!"

And, then, dear readers, I fished my purse out. Yes, with my hands.

I had no choice.

(Those of you who are dry-heaving by now should probably just not read the rest of this.)

So, in the grand scheme of things, the portpotty was not as, um, befouled as some that I have been in. And my purse, thank GOD, um, floated on top.

So God help me, I reached in, grabbed it, and threw it to one side. Which was a bit, um, splashy.

And then I inspected the damage.

Actual purse itself, dry.

The strap?

DRENCHED. Disgusting.

I used up all of the remaining toilet paper to dry off the strap. And then I gingerly carried my purse out of the portpotty from hell and asked the people selling beer if they had any hand santizer.

So when my friend Jaye found me I was busily scrubbing the strap down and trying to clean off my hands like I was Lady Macbeth.

I deposited the befouled purse on a picnic table in the direct sunlight for the duration. Kept an eye on it, but really? If you wanted to steal it? I say, have at it! Enjoy the syphillis you catch from it!

So, now I'm home and the purse is empty and lying on the floor of the bathroom. Some of you are saying, just throw the damn thing away. But I've had so many adventures wearing it! Including, now, dropping it in a portapotty. And it's vintage! Maybe it could be disinfected and saved somehow? Because I might need it again?

As for me, I'm needing a shower.

For Movie Buffs Only

2009-03-13T16:52:00.000-07:00

Oh, dear readers, I scarce know how to say this.

When someone says, "Joan Cusack," what do you picture?

Well, this is what I picture:

And later, in the same movie:

(For those of you not obsessed with John Hughes teenage movies from the '80s, this was one of her first film roles in Sixteen Candles. Which also featured her little brother John Cusack as one of Farmer Ted's geek friends.)

But, anyway, in the mental picture of her I carry around in my head, she is in high school. And then later in some other good films, a grown-up, but still youngish woman.

Soooo, I took the afternoon off today just 'cause and decided I wanted a light, fluffy, girl movie. So went to see Confessions of a Shopaholic in part because I loves me some Isla Fisher.

The movie was meh. Very predictable, and, even fashion-challenged moi can spot a Patricia Fields-costumed outfit from a mile away. (I'm a little tired of them, frankly.)

But here's the part that made me feel sad. And elderly. Joan Cusack plays ISLA FISHER'S FUCKING MOTHER. Not older sister, not young hip aunt, not slightly older coworker, but HER MOTHER.

I just couldn't get my head around it. It wasn't just that she was playing a mom, it was that she was playing the mother of a grown woman.

She wasn't a character in her own right, she was just the "mom" character in every other "girl meets boy" story you've ever seen.

I can't even pretend to be young anymore, I am so old that the ingenues of my youth are playing the mothers of the ingenues of today.

The mind boggles.

(And I'm not even going to mention the fact that Julie Hagerty plays the love interest's elderly secretary. Oh wait, I just did.)

Jonesin' for Some Live Music

2009-03-12T18:24:00.000-07:00

This awesome cover song showed up on my Bookhart radio on Pandora.com and it made me jones for a kick-ass, live, loud, hard rocking experience.

Perhaps something is in the cards? Next week, perhaps?

Random Link

2009-03-06T17:15:00.001-08:00

This blog post made me laugh so hard that I almost peed myself.

Hooray!

2009-03-05T19:54:00.001-08:00

We got word that Her Majesty's school transfer request was approved by the powers-that-be at AISD. So this fall, she will start kindergarten at the same elementary school that Wonder Boy attends. And for one glorious year--before W.B. enters the dreaded middle school--we'll be dropping the kiddos off and picking them up at the same school. This will cut my commute time in half. Woohoo!

Seriously, we've been so happy at this school. I hope, really hope, that it will be the right school for H.M as it has been for W.B.

She is over the moon with excitement. I'm over the moon with excitement. She was born about 3 months after W.B. started kindergarten there, so she has been watched over by the teachers and staff since she was an infant. She already knows the hallways, the playgrounds, and (importantly) where the bathrooms are. She is going to kick fucking ass in kindergarten.

I can't wait.

2009-03-03T18:15:00.000-08:00

So, it's March already, hmmm? When did time start moving so quickly? One day you're 30 and looking great and the next day (or so it seems) you're wondering where all that loose skin on your hands came from and why you are suddenly appearing jowly around the neck.

On that note, it's now TUESDAY and I was planning to post about my weekend on SUNDAY but never got around to it. And it was a very lovely weekend--could the weather have been nicer? I thoroughly enjoyed what appears to have been the last cold front before spring. On Saturday I spent hours in the front yard beating back a few years worth of overgrowth in our front quote unquote garden. I remember wanting to do this last spring--honestly? the last time I actually looked out there--and not being able to find our clippers so blew it off. This year I went to Home Despot and bought some new clippers and went to work. I filled seven or eight bags full of weeds, oniony-smelling grass, and yards and yards of rose bush. I will never plant another rose bush--they take over everything and then are a bloody pain (literally) to dispose of. Once I hacked through the mess, I found a dead oleander bush (bleached white by the sun) and several tiny skulls (rats and birds, mostly) that were obviously the handiwork of the late lamented Scamper.

So, front garden? Cleared. Beat back. Mulched. Really, you wouldn't recognize it. And ready for a new season of planting--I'm thinking rosemary and lavender. W.B. suggested sunflowers and I think that's a fine idea.

But oy vey, my arm and leg and back muscles? I could scarcely move on Sunday.

And what better thing to do on a windy Sunday but attend the Zilker Park Kite Fest? Pod was off recording (the Dentones CD is close to completion, I think), so I took a chance and took both kids by mine ownself. (By taking a chance I mean that I was mentally picturing both children running off in opposite directions after their kites and being swallowed up forever in a sea of humanity, dogs, and kites.) But we made it down there and had a blast. 95% of Austin was there, it seemed. I saw several people I knew but was never able to complete any conversations as I was constantly chasing after the kiddos and/or trying to untangle their kites. Slightly nerve-wracking on my end but well worth it.

All in all, a lovely weekend. I even squeezed in a massage late Saturday, which did much to soothe my sore muscles and general tension.

Back to the grind and the office this week. My research project is on hiatus until April. It was fun to pretend to be a student for a while, and I'm left wondering if someday I might go back to school to pursue that Ph.D. that seemed so intimidating fifteen years ago. We shall see. If I could just do the research and write a dissertation, it would be a breeze, but realistically, classes? Homework? I'm torn.

But this wouldn't happen until the kiddos were done with school so I've got some time to think about it.

Awesomeness

2009-02-28T12:29:00.000-08:00

Because I had never before even considered the idea of camouflage-themed weddings, I must direct your attention to tackyweddings.com. Also, girls, you will thank your lucky stars that you never ended up in some of the bridesmaid's dresses that are featured herein.

I Had a Poster of This Dude in My Bedroom in 83

2009-02-27T17:47:00.000-08:00

White Wedding: Literal Video Version - watch more funny videos

Note to Self: Tomorrow, Bring Backpack

2009-02-18T19:08:00.001-08:00

Dear Readers, today I spent the first of several days back at my old stomping grounds at UT. Where I spent my undergraduate years (85-89), my in-between first-job-out-of-college years (89-90), my graduate school years (91-93), and my first professional years (94-97).

About a year ago, I applied for a 4-week sabbatical program run by a humanities group at UT that is aimed at non-profit employees who are seeking to pursue a research project of some kind. Usually, the project is to have some direct benefit to the organization where they work. It comes with an official faculty advisor, full access to the UT libraries, your own UT ID, and funds to support being away from the office for 180 hours. And I got it!

Today was my first official day away from the office "on sabbatical" (I like saying that). And, being that it was my old stomping grounds, stomp I did. I stomped from the Dobie Parking Garage to PCL, from PCL to the Union (where, I am sad to inform you, the old general Union store is now a Starbucks), from the Union to a coffeehouse on the Drag, and from the Drag to the State Capitol where I had a committee hearing to attend (this was work-related) and back to PCL.

I had forgotten how much walking you have to do at UT. And how many long lines there are. And, um, the bureaucracy involved to get something simple accomplished. Like getting a locker in the library. That's a post in itself, I promise.

Still, it was fun. I relish the opportunity of immersing myself in my research project, to spending some quality time in the library following leads and tracking down information, to synthesizing said information, and to developing a final product (article? presentation? who can say?). At some point, it appears that, no matter what I'm doing, I will always be a librarian.

Also, it was strange. The campus just hasn't changed that much--in some ways, it was eerie. I saw several familiar faces, and I couldn't decide what was freakier: that they were still there 20 years later, or, that possibly, they were the children of the people I remember from 1985. Also the buildings were unchanged--so that I could remind myself, "oh yeah, I can take this shortcut through this building on the South Mall and get there much faster."

My IPod cooperated for the day, playing on shuffle The Reivers, Kathy McCarty, Tom Tom Club, Billy Bragg, and Love and Rockets.

So, for the next 2 weeks (and another 2 in April), I get to pretend I'm a student again. I wore work clothes today, but tomorrow am donning jeans, a baggy Tshirt, and tennis shoes. I pulled my backpack out of storage and will jam it full of books, notebooks, and my laptop. This time, I will wear it over both shoulders--this a decided improvement in student life from the 80s, when we slung it over one shoulder to appear cool (and wrecked our backs in the process).

I'll keep you informed.

Kind of Like Your Own Personal Mixtape

2009-02-17T19:48:00.000-08:00

Some of the stuff I've recently downloaded:

And, of course, the inimitable Flight of the Conchords. God it was hard to pick just one.

Oh, what the hell...

I'm Still Here

2009-02-14T18:00:00.000-08:00

I've been the recipient of a few worried emails, but no worries, we're still here and doing fine. I'm just not blogging much. Actually I've been scarcely using the computer at all in the evenings--a quick look at one or two snarky celebrity gossip sites, a cursory check on FaceSpace, and then back to compulsive reading. I'm making several runs a week to the library at this point. I've just been feeling antisocial and need to have my nose buried in a book once the kiddos go to bed. Poor Pod, I've practically ignored him.

But, just to assure you all that I haven't died, here are a few bullet points of note:

I've spent the last few months planning a special event at work. I made all the food arrangements, planned a 45-minute long program, arranged for speakers, wrote speeches, oversaw the design and production of invitations/signage/handouts, made childcare arrangements, etc. and so forth. All of which culminated last night in a sit-down steak-and-rubber chicken dinner for 300-plus at a faintsy hotel. I'm pleased to report that the evening went well, and I was relieved and happy to be able to tuck into the hotel bar with a Sam Adams at the end of the evening. Special event planning is not my forte, but it comes with the new job description.
With that in mind, I woke up on Wednesday morning feeling a tickle in my throat and the beginnings of a head cold/allergy attack/sinus infection/that thing that everyone else in Austin has. I willed myself not to get sick until after last night's event, and was successful -- I seem to be able to do this occasionally. But, last night, when I got home, it all fell apart, and today, dear readers, I am sick.
Despite my hacking and coughing and sniffly nose, we decided to head over to the awesome (!) new (!) grocery store that has opened just three blocks (!) from our house today. Really, it's within walking distance, and we may have to walk there from here on out because parking was a freaking nightmare. Way too few spaces (as was pointed out by my blogging bud Karla May when we discussed news of this addition to the 'hood a few months ago). Nice store, though--it's as close to a Trader Joe's as I've seen in Austin. Not so big as Whole Foods or that other store, actually a little smaller than Sun Harvest (also close by), about half of the store is produce, a good meat section (we predict more grilling in the evenings), some interesting store brands, a moderate beer selection (not impressive, but adequate), a nice selection of wines for the cheapskate (but not for the wino), a little bit of everything else. It will be very easy for us to make it our local bodega. I'm glad to have it in the neighborhood.
Speaking of the 'hood, can I give a shout-out to my favorite quickie mart--Live Oak Market? This place is the motherfucking bomb, and the place where I bought my new favorite bumper sticker: Keep South Austin Even Weirder. They have all kinds of locally produced foods, a great beer selection, and will make you a cinnamon roll the size of your fist. If you live in South Austin, and need to stop at a quickie mart occasionally, patronize this place. Not the Valero across the street, not the 7-11 about a mile farther south. Stop in--they will treat you like a friend. And they're always jamming some amazing music in there.
I've downloaded a shitload of music lately. This includes albums by Army Navy, Mates of State, Andrew Bird, LadyHawke, The Weepies, Of Montreal, Flight of the Conchords, The National, plus some free compilations courtesy of EMusic. But what I want to know is: where did all the Tom Lehrer in my Music Library come from?
I was part of a group that presented findings and recommendations to a joint meeting of the local school board and City Council members at City Hall a few weeks ago. It made me indescribably happy that, as I was walking from my office to City Hall for this important grown-up presentation, the song "Jizz in my Pants" came on my IPod. Perfect.

All caught up. I'm taking my sniffly ass to bed.

Why I'm Thankful for FaceSpace

2009-01-29T21:01:00.000-08:00

Oh, dear readers, my heart is full.

Once, a long time ago, I had a best friend named Rebecca. From grades 1-5, we lived near one another, hung out together, played games together, and our parents were friends. We were thick as thieves. She is my one clear happy memory of my childhood in New Orleans.

In grade six, I moved to another school. In grade eight, to another state.

We lost touch. Sometime in high school she lost both her parents tragically and was moved somewhere else, far out of my ability to stay in touch.

And I always wondered where she was. And I desperately hoped she was OK.

Thirty or so years passed. I did the occasional Google search but, not knowing where she lived, I had no luck.

On Tuesday of this week, she found my mom on FaceSpace. (Yes, my mother has a FaceSpace page). And then we found each other. And it turns out she had been looking for me too.

On Tuesday night we stayed up late chatting online. As she said, "it was like putting on a old shoe that still fits." We couldn't stop talking.

As an only child, there's a lot of my childhood that I don't have in common with anyone else. But she remembered! She remembered what my childhood home looked like, just as I remember hers. She remembers the parties our parents attended, and what we did to keep ourselves amused while they ate and drank past midnight. She remembers what I loved as a child. I didn't think there was anyone else who had these memories, but she does.

I feel like I've been given a great gift. I'm so happy to have found her.

Like I said, my heart is full.

Beautiful Song

2009-01-26T20:19:00.000-08:00

This song found its way onto my IPod, I know not how, but it's absolutely wonderful:

Po, this one made me think of you.

2009-01-25T14:56:00.000-08:00

Wow! People are interested in my sourdough starter--I've been deluged with requests for it (if 3 people count as a deluge). I'm all, baking expert, moi?

I'm still growing the starter base, which I prepared with a friend and split in half when it was ready to use. So, for those of you who can't wait (or who don't live in Austin and can't drop by for a cup or so), here's the starter recipe:

Sourdough Starter
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 package active dry yeast
2 1/2 cups fully warm water (105-115 degrees)
1 cup instant nonfat dry milk powder
2 tablespoons sugar
4 cups all-purpose flour

In a small bowl dissolve 1/2 teaspoon sugar, yeast, and fully warm water. When yeast begins to bubble up and rise, pour mixture into a 2 1/2 quarter glass, enamel, or stainless steel bowl, and gradually stir in milk powder, 2 tablespoons sugar, and flour until batter is smooth. Cover loosely and let stand in a warm place for 3 to 4 days. When batter rises up to top of bowl, stir down. This first day watch carefully so that it does not overflow. Place a large plastic piece or newspaper beneath the bowl to prevent unnecessary cleaning up. After 3 or 4 days, cover bowl loosely and store in refrigerator.

To keep the starter alive, once or twice a week add:

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup milk
1/4 cup sugar
(Halve this for a small family)

Mix well and keep refrigerated.

If you do make this and want the recipes that go along with it--which include the rolls, pancakes, a terrific cinnamon cake, and some kind of bread involving cherries and buttermilk that doesn't look all that appetizing but who can say--let me know off-line, or leave a comment with your email address.

I have to acknowledge this book and its author, who, as you may recall, gifted my mother with this starter as a wedding gift in 1960.

(And as a nifty aside, the author's grandson was my escort at my debut. We were briefly an item, which made both our grandmothers rabidly happy. Until a skinny musician came my way, that is.)

Sourdough Muffins, 2.0

2009-01-24T07:26:00.001-08:00

They tasted like my childhood.

What I Meant When I Said the Cat Would Be OK

2009-01-22T18:54:00.000-08:00

"Oh, mama, that bad cat tried to get me and I ran away and he bit me on the boe-boe!"

That was the official diagnosis of the vet.

Our sole surviving cat, Mr. Whiskers (so named by Wonder Boy, and yes, it is a ridiculous name), has possibly lost his last nerve after having been attacked by a tomcat, bit on the upper tail, which festered, abcessed, and needed emergency surgery in order to be cleaned and brought right. Poor guy has had half of the hair on his tail shaved (an observation: unhaired cats' tails look somewhat rat-like) and has a large, um, oozy wound, that is to be cleaned twice daily. Even worse, he has been subjected to the further indignity of having to be pilled daily. And we have put the kibosh on his leaving the house--which he is desperate to do--until the large oozy wound has healed.

He is not happy.

None of us are happy. The children are, frankly, horrified by the appearance of the oozy wound and had to be reminded that Mr. Whiskers was not to be shunned but was to be treated gently and with sweetness, as befits any invalid.

I myself am horrified by the appearance of the oozy wound and the fact that said wound is being rubbed up against our furniture, our beds, and our floors.

That said, he appears to be recovering, though the vet warned us that healing would be slow.

I'm not at all sure that he will recover emotionally. Now that I've become, instead of that hand that pets him and feeds him, the hand that puts smelly medicine on his "boe-boe" and grabs him when he's unprepared and holds him down while Pod stuffs a butter-covered pill down his throat.

All the more reason for him to try to bolt out the door every time it opens.

I am re-evaluating our fitness to be pet owners.

What Came Before

2009-01-20T20:45:00.000-08:00

Bookhart says, thank you Dr. King. Thank you Michael Schwerner, Andrew Goodman, and James Chaney. Thank you Emmitt Till. Thank you Rosa Parks. Thank you Jon Daniels. Thank you Viola Liuzza. Thank you Medgar Evers. Thank you Birmingham 4. Thank you SNCC. Thank you CORE. Thank you NAACP. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I Am Boring, Yellow

2009-01-19T13:55:00.000-08:00

"You better start posting again," Pod warns me, somewhat severely. "Otherwise you'll lose all your readership."

"But I don't have anything to write about," I whine.

And therein lies the problem. I'm worried that I'm out of things to say, that I've told all my stories, that my creative juices are dried up.

Mostly, there's just not a lot going on. I work five days a week, spend Saturday looking for something stimulating to do with the kiddos, and then use Sunday for housecleaning and preparing for the work week. Occasionally I get to go out with my awesome friends, and very occasionally I get to leave town, but honestly? There's just not a lot to report. My life is pretty pedestrian.

So, when I do have a day that has two events that are out of the ordinary, I don't know what to do--I have too much to write about. My cup runneth over.

Morning: As it was MLK Day, both Wonder Boy and and Pod and I had a holiday. (Her Majesty's daycare NEVER shuts, which is awesome). W.B. and I decided that it would be a good time to start working on his history project that is due in early February. Everyone in his class had to choose a President to research and present an oral report on (upon whom to present an oral report?). The students are required to be dressed in appropriate costume and to present 15 visual items (I'm calling it "flair" for the duration) along with their report. Luckily--and completely randomly--W.B. chose Lyndon B. Johnson. I mean, can you imagine trying to find an appropriate costume for Chester A. Arthur or William Henry Harrison? With LBJ, you get a suit, cowboy hat (short-brimmed, Pod would remind me), and boots, and you're done.

Also lucky because we live in a town with a huge repository of LBJ schtuff. Which would be the LBJ Library. Which I haven't visited in years.

So W.B. and I made a trip over there this morning. It was absolutely perfect for him. He knew very little about LBJ and picked him only because his friend Lev said that LBJ was a good president. The Library more than delivered and W.B. walked out of there with a good understanding of Johnson and his Presidency and we were even able to discuss a little bit about quagmires and unintended legacies and bad advising. (Because you know, that never happened again.)

Another thing we learned: Wonder Boy absolutely LOATHES animatronics. He was all psyched to see a presentation titled "The Humor of LBJ," but when it turned out to be an animatronic he decided it was the scariest thing he had ever seen. (It was kind of creepy, actually.) At another point we came across some other reasonably life-like mannequins that could have been animatronic (but weren't) and he immediately backed himself up against a far wall and edged his way along the wall until we were well past them. And he never took his eyes off them, like they might suddenly come alive and attack him. (And don't we all feel that way about animatronics when you come to think of it? And wouldn't you wet your pants in terror if they did?)

He also thought very highly of the Oval Office replica, which I am always amused and slightly perplexed by. Why make a 7/8 scale model? Why not just go the whole 8/8?

So, it was a very good and very productive morning. I'll leave my afternoon adventure for tomorrow (or my next post), but will leave you with this information: the cat will be fine.