Hooky

I have a long and tedious list of errands and chores, but I am opting to ignore it and go search for chanterelles instead.  I have to be home by three to help finish Halloween costumes.  Wish me luck.

idiomatic.

I just came across the expression:  "Not my circus.  Not my monkeys."

It struck a chord.

Only my life is kind of the opposite:

My book title (if I ever write one) will be: My Circus, My Monkeys. 

(side note:  I can't find that yellow scarf anywhere.  and it's perfect scarf weather today!  My circus is disorganized. I blame the monkeys.  Curses.)

While I was out on leave.....

I got to officiate a wedding this summer.  Our beloved onetime babysitter Trish moved to Norway to do a Phd. in Comparative Lit (beloved and brilliant).  While there she met an amazing and lovely Norwegian (read: Viking!!) named Trond.  In addition to being kind, clever, hardworking and handsome, he is a rock star.  

His band is called Dark Times.:  http://darktimes.bandcamp.com   Trond is the one with long curly hair.  They tour and everything. So add talented to his list of attributes.   When Trish asked me if I would be an officiant at their wedding I was as flattered as I have ever been in my life.  

I started trying to write down some profound thoughts and they were really annoying.  So I decided not to overthink it.  Which, it occurred to me, is a good policy for marriage in general:  Don't overthink it.

I did need to say something semi coherent, though, so this is what I came up with:  

Marriage is the collision between romance and real life.   (Maybe I should have said intersection? a much gentler word choice.  Oh well, it is too late. )  

I went on to say what our preacher said to us:  which was:   

Have fun together.  Prioritize it, even when you are broke and stressed and surrounded by screaming babies.  Build some fun with into the budget and budget the time together.  Spending joyful, relaxing time together is not just a "bonus."  If it doesn't happen, how will you remember why you're together?  It's more important than a clean house.  And while a little money in the bank is important, spending a little bit of it on a bottle of wine or a weekend away now and then is also of great value. 

Make each other laugh so hard you are hyperventilating.  Cook for each other, make coffee in the morning, do the dishes at night.  If both of you act as if all the logistics are your job, neither of you will ever have the opportunity to resent doing the logistics:  you will think, oh, I should do the the dishes, oh wait, they are already done.  Was it the elves?  no, it was Trond/Trish.  How nice.  I must thank him/her, with a kiss, or something :).  

Pragmatic and mundane ideas, but marriage is a philosophical state put into practice.  It is easier to be happily committed when your partner sets a cup of hot coffee and the paper on your bedside table on his way to the shower.   A long time ago, Denis said to me, Love is a verb.  

Love is a verb.  And I am deeply appreciative of the coffee.  

More bits from the summer: Deaf as a post post

I did actually write a little bit this summer, I just never got around to adding pictures and posting.  Here is one example:

We went out to the sailboat (have I mentioned the sailboat?  We have acquired my folks' pretty wooden day sailer since my dad's balance has become so poor--we keep it at the local reservoir in the summer.  Lucky us!)  the other evening.

The smaller hooligan brought his remote control speedboat. The wind was light and we were just tooling along very peacefully.  He stood by the mast and ran his demonic little vessel alongside.

Some big tattoo'd dudes and their neon thong lady friends in a speed boat were amused.  They hollered  "Send that thing over with a beer!"  Ha ha.  That was sweet, actually.  Often the sailboat people and the speed boat people have nothing to say to each other.  We do not like the big wake they create.  They do not like that we have right of way if we're under sail.

As we sailed away from our new speed boat friends the Man Who Lives In My House and the Smaller Hooligan were bobbing their heads in time to something.
"I hate this song."  Said the smaller hooligan.
"Me too, but it's horribly catchy."  said TMWLIMH.
 "What song?"  I asked.

They looked at me quizzically.  You can't hear that?  aske THMWLIMH.

"Hear What?"  I responded.

The smaller hooligan chimed in  "Mom you really are deaf!"

Oh dear.  I thought having to get progressive lenses in my glasses would somehow protect me from other areas of sensory deterioration.  I guess I can look forward to being more oblivious to irritating background noise.

A message from the Universe

Yesterday my car wouldn't start.  Today the dishwasher appeared to be defunct.  Both things turned out to be minor problems that I was able, albeit with much cursing, to fix myself.  Nonetheless I am sidling along, nervously squinting at the sky as I'm pretty sure a grand piano is about to land on my head.

I was going to run errands and take the dogs on a long hike but instead I am staying inside and cleaning the floor.  

The dogs think I'm over-reacting. 

Not Extinct

Very large versions of mammals that are still around today once roamed the earth:  6 foot tall beavers, for example, and giant sloths.  I believe that we have a giant hamster in residence:

I have not actually caught the critter, digitally or otherwise.  I have only cleaned up after him:

I guess I'll set up a webcam and then call National Geographic.  

Call your mother.

My (almost daily) conversation with my mom today went something like this:

Me:  "So on Friday, the Larger Hooligan was all ebullient and pleased because he found out he's getting and A in Geometry, and naturally we were pleased too."

Bad Grandma:  "Well you should be pleased!  that is very good!  He is quite bright you know." (My mother was convinced the Larger Hooligan could read when he was three.  She dotes with great enthusiasm. It is endearing.)

Me:  "Well yes, but he works so hard at acting like a doofus that I forget.  And by Sunday he started mentioning that his grade in Science might not be so great, but he was going to turn all the missing work in, the teacher accepted late work, etc etc.  So I'm trying not to get pissed at him but I'm all stressed out again and then TODAY (Monday) I get a text:  Hey Mom!  A- in Science!

B.G.:  Well that's wonderful!  What was he talking about?  Did he think he'd bombed a test or something?

Me:  I think he is just trying to kill me.

At this point in the conversation my mother could no longer contain herself:  "That is exactly how we felt when we got the letter saying that you, with your 2.4 GPA, were a National Honor Society Scholar because of your SAT scores!  YOU! A SCHOLAR!  Hahahahaa"

Me:  "I know, and I am only sharing this with you because I know it will give you great pleasure, Mom.  It is my gift to you."

I've been out on Puberty leave

This should be a real phenomenon, com to think of it.