tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37077732012-02-16T03:38:50.849-08:00I have things.TCnoreply@blogger.comBlogger5891100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-71305516778619797532007-06-08T10:21:00.001-07:002007-06-11T09:14:51.993-07:00

About a year ago, I sold this blog to MTV/Nickelodeon, which owns ParentsConnect. They wanted a blogger to spotlight; I wanted to be spotlighted. It seemed like a win-win.There was a lot of rush to get the deal completed. I'll never forget getting an email that urged me to sign the letter of agreement quickly and get it back, because "MTV wants to make hay out of their great new blogger." I'll

TCnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-2409065725321937372007-06-07T20:59:00.000-07:002007-06-07T21:01:16.609-07:00

Em, who won't turn 10 until late August, just came out of her room, walked over to me, lifted her shirt up to under her (still only budding, thank goodness) breasts, and said:"Is it just me, or am I getting curves?"And the worst part?She totally is.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-91785719022088863112007-06-06T07:49:00.000-07:002007-06-06T07:53:43.752-07:00

Because Jane yelled at me and made me cry...Actually, the restless legs were one of the symptoms I was having that made me decide to go off of Lexapro. In addition to the whole not-really-working thing. In addition to the COBRA-is-running-out-and-nobody-will-insure-me-when-I'm-taking-antidepressants thing.I had a better night last night. Not stellar, but better. Not that any of you yelling people

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-25136111122444095072007-06-05T19:32:00.000-07:002007-06-05T20:06:01.754-07:00

They were 'restless' all night, though I eventually got about five hours of sleep. They've been 'restless' all day, even though I took a nice long walk this afternoon, which *should* have helped. And if there's a psychosomatic component to this all, they're going to be even MORE restless tonight, since I'm already worried about another night like last night.Clearly, this is going to require a

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-12402155083388524772007-06-05T00:30:00.000-07:002007-06-05T00:52:24.248-07:00

My legs, I mean. Anyone out there dealing with restless leg syndrome who has words of wisdom (or, preferably, a really quick, easy fix)?It's been going on for a while now, but up until recently it was mere nuisance. I didn't quite get why or how it might be a big enough deal for someone to see a doctor about it, or take medications for it. I'd even thought that, since it hadn't really started

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-7959176506866103102007-06-01T08:33:00.000-07:002007-06-01T08:44:46.325-07:00

N showed up at the front door this morning, ready to go to school, with his backpack on and a baggie full of kumquats in his hand."Ms. F loves kumquats!" he announced when I asked why he was carrying them. "I picked these for her."We have a large kumquat bush...or maybe you'd call it a small kumquat tree...oh, let's just say we have lots of kumquats in our backyard. During Teacher Appreciation

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-82652385613474064862007-05-25T16:47:00.000-07:002007-05-25T16:58:23.936-07:00

My dad seems to be doing as well as can be expected. My dog is recuperating. My job takes up all my working hours, all my waking hours, and most of my sleeping hours, too. There are so many end-of-the-year wrap-up events going on right now that it makes my head hurt to think about them, but as long as I just keep track and show up where I'm supposed to, when I'm supposed to, all will be well.So,

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-60507158139553481742007-05-22T08:38:00.001-07:002007-05-22T08:46:15.358-07:00

...It has to be a withdrawal symptom from Lexapro. Or maybe a reaction to one of the new supplements I've started taking--a B-vitamin complex for stress, a GABA complex to try to minimize any anxiety symptoms I might have. Or a brain tumor.I can't just be annoyed at the kids' behavior because they are being truly difficult...It has to be manic irritability, a sign that the bipolar disorder I

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-31764369661304596042007-05-19T16:12:00.000-07:002007-05-19T16:47:54.863-07:00

This is what it's like in my head: We are driving home from Friday night services at our synagogue, and a song comes up on a CD we're playing. It sets off a series of memories of when Em was a baby. Baroy and I begin one of those games of "Oh, and remember when she used to..."? Em is eating it up."Oh," I say, as we pull into our driveway, and a memory hits me so hard I can almost taste it. "And

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-49862952316655610102007-05-17T23:56:00.000-07:002007-05-18T00:09:10.063-07:00

I was already in the car, running late to get to my Reintroduction to Judaism class this evening, when I heard the screen door slam, and saw N come running toward me. I noticed that he was crying...sobbing, actually.I rolled down the window."What's the matter, sweetie?""Open the door, please," he sobbed.I did, and he rushed over, and put his head in my lap."What's the matter?" I asked again."I

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-5390968918105808602007-05-16T09:04:00.000-07:002007-05-16T09:28:37.451-07:00

Here's the deal: I'm now in charge of gathering together literally hundreds of short (150-500 words) essays-that-aren't-really-essays for ParentsConnect*, which is a Nickelodeon/MTV/Viacom website for parents of children of all ages.Here's what you need to know: You do NOT need to be a 'writer' to get in on this. We're currently calling these essays-that-aren't-really-essays Blabs, because that's

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-78013230089402222182007-05-14T22:46:00.000-07:002007-05-14T23:28:25.361-07:00

Thanks for everyone's thoughts and concerns, both on and off this blog, about my decision to take myself off of Lexapro.It's hard to get all of the pros and cons, all of the thought processes that go on behind a decision, down on 'paper,' as it were. So it is with this process. And I can't even begin to try to rectify that. But I can share a little bit of what's been going on.When I first started

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-62502871015134997452007-05-11T20:16:00.000-07:002007-05-11T20:29:48.172-07:00

N has been behaving abominably in kindergarten of late, losing his super star seven out of the past ten days. (The behavioral consequences in his classrom go like this: First offense, your name goes on the board; second offense, your name gets a W for warning; third offense and you lose your super star. A dozen super stars equal a trip to the gift box on Ms. F's desk.)It's not only that he's been

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-21940862503732441372007-05-09T10:07:00.000-07:002007-05-09T10:09:33.479-07:00

Snuggy-bug (yes, we call him that; yes, it's cloyingly annoying; no, I don't care that you're gagging now) came home yesterday evening from his tour of area veterinary hospitals. He's on antibiotcs and a high dose of steroids, and is still relatively low energy compared to pre-whatever-this-is Snug, but much better than two-days-ago Snug.Problem is, his platelet counts are still low, even after a

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-67834487260267195852007-05-07T21:01:00.000-07:002007-05-07T21:29:17.026-07:00

I really do need to come up with a better, more socially appropriate way to respond to people who politely ask about how my father is doing. I mean, my current response--"Well, he's dying, so it's only downhill from here"--isn't really what most people want to hear.I did hear from his girlfriend today, in between appointments at the VA medical center up where they live. Apparently, he was sick

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-46756490885031725312007-05-03T16:53:00.000-07:002007-05-03T17:04:47.524-07:00

Dad's dying. Work's a bitch. We're in debt up to our ears for some reason. (Could be the insane spending of money, I suppose.) N is acting out--at school, at home.So guess what I decided to do? Go off my antidepressants, of course!There are actual good reasons for it, number one being that Lexapro isn't doing much more for me than Celexa did, except to help me gain those last five pounds I needed

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-44634961417285918372007-05-02T22:09:00.000-07:002007-05-02T22:41:29.945-07:00

The plan: Fly into NY Tuesday, April 24; get up the next morning and go in to the city to meet with my new boss and *her* boss from 10 to noon.The reality: Wednesday's meeting stretched from 10 to almost 5. Thursday's hastily scheduled 1 pm meeting stretched from 1 to 4. Monday's hastily scheduled 9 am meeting stretched all the way until 6:30 that afternoon. And there was still so much that

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-80393625300221496902007-04-21T19:19:00.000-07:002007-04-21T19:46:50.603-07:00

I have overscheduled my daughter. I am now officially one of 'those' parents--the ones who the rest of you look at and laugh at in a condescending "what COULD she be thinking" kind of way. The one who the media write about. The one who is destroying childhood for children. It's me. I've done it.Let's review: Em is 9, in fourth grade. In addition to school from 8 until 2:30 daily, she has chorus

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-90639772011245121032007-04-18T23:08:00.000-07:002007-04-18T23:25:30.651-07:00

This is what happens when it's spring break, and you have--no kidding, no exaggerating--six conference calls and a lunch meeting to deal with, and your husband is busy working on a project and your daughter is out at a friend's house: Your son cuts his own hair. Again. And not even so ridiculously that it's cute, like last time. Just enough to totally screw up the haircut you paid for just two

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-34578244186644159042007-04-16T19:19:00.000-07:002007-04-16T19:27:47.951-07:00

We found out about my dad on Thursday; four days later (a week ago today), I found out that my boss at ParentsConnect had resigned. I'm going to be taking over for her for the interim, which is a lot of pressure at the same time as that of my dad's diagnosis. Worst of it is that the people in New York who run ParentsConnect want someone to replace her in New York. Which makes sense if you're not

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-30554712037977129332007-04-08T19:18:00.000-07:002007-04-08T19:45:37.634-07:00

They are 6 and 9. N has met my father a total of three times, the first of which was the day he was born and my father, more engaged in my life at the time than he had been in many years or would be for many years hence, had flown to LA from New York to try to be there for the birth. Em has seen him maybe a single handfull of times. Neither of them is likely to see him before this is all over.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-22756612830381189632007-04-06T16:58:00.000-07:002007-04-06T17:21:35.934-07:00

For the last couple of months, my father's been convinced he's dying. His long-time girlfriend and I have been convinced he's insane. Since he's bipolar and medicated to his gills, it's not a real stretch to be convinced of the latter. And we are, of course, right.But so is he.Turns out that despite some negative enzyme test several weeks ago, he does indeed have the pancreatic cancer he has been

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-22499031573264333182007-04-04T23:53:00.000-07:002007-04-05T00:03:29.761-07:00

Two seders in two days. Total number of people fed with one 15-quart pot of matzoh ball soup: 25. And there are still leftovers. (My brisket--the best I've ever made by far--didn't fare as well; there were requests for more long after there was no more to be had.) But two picky little boys declared the meat delicious, a skinny-as-a-rail 10-year-old girl gushed over the matzoh balls, and my

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-84682662276046405652007-03-30T15:29:00.000-07:002007-03-30T15:35:13.802-07:00

I was just sitting here, typing away, when I realized I was already 15 minutes late to get Em from school.The kicker? I was writing a series of parenting tips for the not-so-soon-to-be-revamped ParentsConnect website.Tip #1: Don't forget to pick up your child at school, you moron!And what did my way-too-sarcastic-for-my-own-good 9-year-old have to say when I finally did arrive? "Oh, Mom. How nice

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-13271467779313066302007-03-23T22:51:00.000-07:002007-03-23T23:09:02.661-07:00

Have any of you read Anne Tyler's newest, Digging to America? (Or have any of you, like me, listened to Digging to America?)Here's the thing: I really enjoyed it. And that was a huge surprise to me, since I haven't really enjoyed anything of hers since Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant which was, what, written in 1982, I think, and which I read soon thereafter. I'm not sure what I've objected to

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-90994682082945032462007-03-21T13:04:00.000-07:002007-03-21T13:21:46.966-07:00

A week since my last post? How'd that happen?Oh, right. I know.1. I spent several days obsessing over a work evaluation, convinced I was about to be booted from my job, only to get a really glowing initial report (more to come) and be forced to realize that I am STILL that girl in college who used to convince everyone around her that she had really failed the test this time, not like all those

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-61893835967992604712007-03-14T20:53:00.000-07:002007-03-14T21:01:35.250-07:00

Baroy is watching Witness, and N walks into the living room. (Let's put aside the fact that this happens way too often, and that while Baroy yesses me to death about how the things he watches aren't appropriate for the kids to see while they're still awake, he never has and probably never will change his viewing habits. Let's put aside the fact that there are times when that makes me insane.)N

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-90678837967835979852007-03-12T18:36:00.000-07:002007-03-12T18:52:02.903-07:00

It's 86 degrees at my outside-of-LA foothills home. At 6:30 pm. Yesterday, it was 92 degrees at 7 pm. There are five children (only two of them mine) in bathing suits in our not-currently-heated hot tub, playing some game that involves the command "shake your butts" and much hysterical giggling. I love summer. However, it is March. The whole thing is just insane.-----If I weren't in such a

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-85842208899413407392007-03-07T18:42:00.000-08:002007-03-07T18:32:37.444-08:00

When Baroy finally got home on Sunday, exhausted and dispirited, there was this sign on the window awaiting him, and two kids who were jumping up and down at the sight of his really cool medal, and a comment and a post from Rich that brought a smile to his face, and he got over the worst of the disappointment remarkably quickly.Later, he was sitting with Em and me and said, "You know what really

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-24332531869591317852007-03-04T15:09:00.000-08:002007-03-04T15:15:39.851-08:00

He called from near mile 23, sounding as miserable as he did at mile 12."My body just aches," he said."Well, so does mine, and I'm just lying in bed with the flu. I'm not running.""Oh, honey. I'm not running either." He gave a weak laugh.So he's thinking he'll make it to the finish line, jog-walking his way there. He won't hit is personal goal, with was to do it in 4:40 or less. But he'll make

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-19679219079452261462007-03-04T11:07:00.000-08:002007-03-04T11:14:38.138-08:00

You know, sometimes I forget and think that the only people who can touch me in that unique way, the only people capable of breaking my heart are my kids.Baroy just called from the marathon, and I could hear tears in his voice."I don't think I'm going to make it," he said, his voice breaking. "I've only gone 12 miles, and I don't think I''m going to make it."I tried to tell him that it's OK. That

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-78346975214456597482007-03-03T19:18:00.000-08:002007-03-03T19:34:25.578-08:00

I've succumbed to whatever the kids had, and it's kicking my butt.So, in lieu of a real post--one in which there are supposed to be complete sentences that lead one into the other and further a point or points--I'm going to give you some fevered ramblings. Actually, I'm going to ask you some fevered questions.1. Is there an age at which a daughter should no longer sleep in bed with her father? A

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-31430729294031211492007-02-28T22:11:00.000-08:002007-02-28T22:22:05.781-08:00

N started it all, over a month ago, when he came home with what was, admittedly, a very mild cold. A week later, to the day, Baroy began bitching and moaning about how congested he was, and how lousy he felt. But he, too, really had a mild case. A week after Baroy, it was my turn: My version was much less mucousy and much more collapsing-into-bed-with-a-headache-and-body-aches-y than theirs was.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-34009840778277479672007-02-24T10:45:00.000-08:002007-02-24T11:10:25.381-08:00

Thanks for all your notes and comments about Stalker Girl. But you wanna hear something crazy? I'm not crazy!Well, let me rephrase that. I had a completely normal, not-at-all extreme reaction to her latest missive. I didn't act crazy. I didn't respond by spiraling into a greater-than-my-usual degree of craziness in this particular situation.I'm not going to spend too much time clapping myself on

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-46163992187991829182007-02-22T13:11:00.000-08:002007-02-22T13:32:06.107-08:00

Hey! Guess who showed up in my brother-in-law's colleague's emails today! If you said Stalker Girl, you guessed right! And yes, the overuse of exclamation points is a result of my pretending I'm excited about this, and not really freaking out! So, I apologize in advance, but I can't stop!Because one never knows where Stalker Girl is, and because one never wants to know, one doesn't write details

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-16140738659016932502007-02-21T15:38:00.000-08:002007-02-21T15:56:23.947-08:00

When you have a couple of gloriously free hours while Em is in Hebrew school..when you walk down the street to Barnes and Noble in air with only the faintest bit of chill, beneath a sky with only the faintest overcast...when you're feeling better for the first time after four straight days of flu symptoms and just wanting to sleeeeeeeeeeep...when you decide to blow off working at the bookstore

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-80542817985425943012007-02-20T12:55:00.000-08:002007-02-20T13:01:18.353-08:00

...because otherwise, who knows what kind of horrendous attacks and legislative inanities we'd be subjected to whenever we read the news, right?(Yes, my fellow Americans, that's sarcasm.)

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-66539184948453529502007-02-18T09:58:00.000-08:002007-02-18T10:31:42.122-08:00

Our neighbors think we're crazy, Baroy and I.First there's Baroy, with his several-times-a-week runs up and down the main thoroughfare (really, the only thoroughfare) in our town. (He's been running lots of half-marathons, and now training for the LA Marathon, and runs a 3-mile stretch of said thoroughfare several times, back and forth. He's a creature of habit. The mere thought of doing the same

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-48705226780131753492007-02-15T11:34:00.000-08:002007-02-15T12:01:35.497-08:00

Just a few photos I downloaded from my camera yesterday and decided to share...Aren't you lucky?This was N's Valentine's 'card' to us--a fridge magnet/self-portrait he'd done in the computer lab at school. It's a pretty good likeness, too! Makes me smile every time I pass it.Thanks to some Chanukah gift certificates from my mom, Baroy and I were able to buy ourselves a new comforter set...the

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-30769766075629189372007-02-13T23:19:00.000-08:002007-02-13T23:37:32.939-08:00

Considering how much tsuris this stab wound's put me through, you'd think it could at least LOOK like a stab wound, instead of like a minor paper cut. People are starting to roll their eyes at me when I complain about the pain--oh! the pain! (OK, not so much pain any more, but still...) I think maybe people are thinking I'm a hypochondriac. I know! Can you believe it? I'm not a hypochondriac! I *

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-59360217483567563712007-02-09T14:46:00.001-08:002007-02-09T14:46:32.477-08:00

I found this attached to my computer keyboard today, courtesy of Baroy:Ha. Ha, Ha.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-12809886091027040902007-02-08T21:09:00.000-08:002007-02-01T23:58:41.736-08:00

Haven't posted much of late because it's been work work work 24/7. Fun work, frustrating work, challenging work, inane work. But work. Which is, of course, a good thing.Except for when it takes up every available neuron in your brain, leaving only enough for you to think, dully, as the knife you were using to try to pry apart the frozen salmon patties slips toward the meaty part between your

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-4392307719061334922007-02-01T23:42:00.000-08:002007-02-01T23:58:42.011-08:00

Baroy and I went out to dinner with Marc and Glen to celebrate my and Glen's birthdays, which are four days apart. We nabbed my friend's nanny to babysit for the kids, because she is The Greatest Nanny In The World, Bar None. My kids love her, I love her, Baroy loves her; it's a love-fest.It's a pity, then, that we'll never be able to have her over again because I will never again be able to look

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-44280955712502211102007-01-31T20:40:00.000-08:002007-01-31T21:12:04.437-08:00

(That title has nothing to do with this post, except that I'm writing it up in my bedroom, and N is here, dancing around and eating a tangerine that he just plucked directly from the tree right outside our back door. The tangerine tree from which all the children WHO CAME TO HIS PARTY got to eat from. Which leads me to...)So Monday brought a few things to light. First, Baroy came back from

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-19595797384778557692007-01-28T20:22:00.000-08:002007-01-28T20:30:23.815-08:00

The wonderful thing is that N was surrounded at his birthday party today by people who love him. The wonderful thing is that his uncle was there. The wonderful thing is that the only friends he really cares about having around--Weeyum, Ben, Sam, Joey, Sarah--were there. The wonderful thing is that between the friends who are really our family and the neighborhood kids, there were as many as 16

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-1610181420460564332007-01-27T16:53:00.000-08:002007-01-27T17:13:48.267-08:00

Baroy and I connect on some very fundamental things and on a very personal level. But sometimes, when I look around this house, I wonder how we ever found each other, much less came to live together.We both have areas in our family room that are designated as our offices. The area he chose is in the darkest, windowless corner of the room. My desk is situated between a wall with two windows and

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-15768168103970050502007-01-26T09:48:00.000-08:002007-01-26T10:05:06.841-08:00

N turns 6 today, and you know I'll have more to say about that later. But today was special for another reason, too. He was awarded Student of the Month for his class; his teacher told me it was an obvious choice because he's been making such a huge effort to go beyond his comfort zones. (He sits on the rug with the rest of the kids! Every day! And he's even standing and facing in the direction

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-12902815000257561322007-01-24T18:36:00.000-08:002007-01-24T19:16:37.009-08:00

I'm 43 today. I'm not especially impressed. Aside from it being a prime number, there's really nothing special about 43, you know?On the other hand, any day when you get presents is a good day, right? (My favorite, because it was so unexpected: A t-shirt Baroy tracked down after we saw it on a TV show--or was it a movie?--after which I laughed for about three straight days. It says, "You had me

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-67133787765011775952007-01-21T20:33:00.000-08:002007-01-21T20:38:49.037-08:00

If you know N, you know how HUGE it is that yesterday Baroy took him to his first-ever golf lesson and, aside from a hitch or two, he...you know...took a golf lesson.And, I might add, he ROCKED. The teacher was impressed. I am beside myself.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-20046047557865596212007-01-20T11:14:00.000-08:002007-01-20T12:09:18.079-08:00

I've been hesitating to write about this, because I know that Jane is going to hurt herself trying not to scream I TOLD YOU SO from Kansas to California. But I'm needing thoughts and advice, so I'm going for it.When I volunteered in N's classroom on Thursday, I saw a few things that upset me; clear regressions and some not-so-clear issues. For instance, apparently N has been hiding behind the

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-88240902566816579722007-01-17T09:14:00.000-08:002007-01-20T11:14:33.827-08:00

There was snow. There was skiing for (most of) the kids, and most of the dads. There was bowling for those too little, or too scared, to ski. There was sledding. There was snowball-throwing. There was snowman-building. There was a roaring fire. There was bacon and eggs in the mornings, pasta and tacos in the evenings. There was booze. There was a lot of booze. There was hot chocolate. There were

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-50225142320457125292007-01-10T16:19:00.000-08:002007-01-10T17:30:57.020-08:00

I had to ground Em for a week yesterday for a relatively minor infraction, but one for which I had set the punishment in advance if she didn't do XYZ, and she didn't do XYZ. I am a hardass. N is behaving like a feral animal, deliberately disobeying each and every rule we set. I would assume he's being raised by wolves, except I know he's being raised by me. Hey! Maybe I'm a hardass *and* a

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-72932238523736705682007-01-07T16:28:00.000-08:002007-01-07T18:09:00.180-08:00

It didn't occur to me until the last words passed through the earbuds of my iPod and I found myself unable to do anything more than just continue to walk, walk straight ahead, that I had just finished, within days of each other, two books about time travel. And that I had been nearly paralyzed by the beauty of both of them. That they made time stand still for me.Sometime last year, after a fairly

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-16811556672887448822007-01-04T13:50:00.000-08:002007-01-04T14:02:42.987-08:00

As I was filing the kids' work, the new teacher, Ms. F, was going through the morning activities with the kids.At one point, she told them that, as of next week, they would no longer be allowed to get a toy after collecting 10 Super Stars (a daily reward for good individual behavior), but would have to wait until they got 12 Super Stars."How many more Super Stars do you need now, if you used to

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-88479922806469990472007-01-03T13:57:00.000-08:002007-01-03T14:12:00.327-08:00

As her guinea pig, Buddy, ran around the room while Em and I talked the other night, Em began to ask me questions about my childhood guinea pig, who was creatively named Streak for the...yup, you guessed it...white streak running along the side of his ginger-colored body."Look, Em," I finally said. "You have to remember that, back then, people didn't really think of guinea pigs as needing a lot

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-68225705737155546212006-12-31T15:01:00.000-08:002006-12-31T15:22:15.002-08:00

Last year at this time, I made what were not resolutions but, rather, declarations about what would happen this year. And, much to my surprise, I followed through.In many ways, my life today doesn't look at all like what I'd expected when I made thos declarations. In other ways, it is exactly what I'd hoped for. I'm working from home, doing stuff that I enjoy, stuff that I can get jazzed about. I

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-88076876065673509602006-12-28T11:51:00.000-08:002006-12-28T12:58:17.910-08:00

Thanks to you all for your comments and emails about our Christmas of Chaos. I'm glad I could give you all a chuckle. Someone had to laugh, right? Oh, and Donna? Marc and Glen actually called the next day to see how N was doing. Those are two brave, brave men.Now, on with the show.These are the books I listened to on my iPod this year. For whatever reason, I picked what was generally a much

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-63012997633808944012006-12-25T16:09:00.000-08:002006-12-25T17:31:14.872-08:00

Scene one: We arrive at Marc and Glen's house in the afternoon of the 23rd to begin our 13th consecutive Christmas together, the four of us. We have a holiday concert to attend at Marc's theater that evening, so the two of them aren't home, but we need to get Snug acclimated before heading out. He's clearly a little spooked at being left in this strange backyard, but we give him a

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-75307601873138906462006-12-23T10:13:00.000-08:002006-12-23T10:41:50.732-08:00

We live next door to a family of fundamentalist Christians, people who homeschool because "there's not enough religion in the schools." (And yes, that includes the religious schools.) People who don't do Halloween or Santa. People who believe in creationism and in the absolutely wrongness of homosexuality.This should be a recipe for utter disaster, Baroy and I being the ultimate in liberal Jews

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-29124900230435585632006-12-21T23:05:00.000-08:002006-12-21T23:14:44.674-08:00

We were watching a movie, the four of us, when N started goofing around and refusing to listen to his father and I when we tried to get him to take his game into another room. He began to yell and make a fuss. I gave him a three count, then told him he'd have to go to his room to calm down.He started to stomp off, then wheeled around to face me, screaming with all his might: "MEAN!"He paused, and

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-48081901087736070562006-12-20T18:48:00.000-08:002006-12-20T19:01:01.117-08:00

One of the things that makes N such a mystery to me is his inability to let me inside, to tell me what he's thinking and feeling beyond the simplest of basic emotions.Actually, that statement may be wrong. I'm not sure it's an inability to let me inside. It may be an inability to verbalize what he's thinking and feeling, despite *wanting* to let me inside. Or it may be a desire not to let me

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-15034710505530179972006-12-19T19:55:00.000-08:002006-12-19T19:56:45.737-08:00

I'm only about 50 hits away from 100,000! This is exciting! To me! Only to me!I'll shut up now.Thanks to whoever is #100,000. If you happen to grab a screenshot and send it to me, I'll, um, do something nice for you. No, I don't know what.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-18363559970736061752006-12-19T00:11:00.000-08:002006-12-19T00:48:49.202-08:00

I kept lists. I kept sometimes-notes. I kept the road to hell paved with my good intentions.What the following was supposed to be was an appropriately linked, well-thought out compilation of the books I read this year (in several parts) followed by the books I listened to this year (in several parts). But, being crazy-busy with work (a Very Good Thing! I know!), none of this has happened. And so,

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-76376297179220473082006-12-13T20:02:00.000-08:002006-12-13T20:11:25.123-08:00

N hops into the family room, chatting away to his stable of imaginary friends. (I probably should be impressed by the fact that they've stuck around for more than three years now, right? I should consider it a testament to my almost-6-year-old child's imagination rather than a sign of an impending psychotic break, right? RIGHT?)He stops when he reaches me: "Mommy, can I have some Goldfish?""Sure.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-32750500682029017412006-12-12T10:54:00.000-08:002006-12-12T11:11:22.758-08:00

* Not so much on the ire. Or on the agreement. Or on anything, for that matter. I have a feeling you all think I'm turning into Crazy Religious Lady. Well, you definitely got the crazy part right.* N got on the scale in my bathroom the other day, and then insisted that I get on after him. I outweigh him by exactly 100 pounds. Damn, that Lexapro is helping me to pack on the pounds.* I've recently

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-69691935559267254272006-12-11T10:10:00.000-08:002006-12-11T10:40:54.573-08:00

As part of my Reintroduction to Judaism course, I've been reading the Torah. (And I think it is quite telling about the state of my previous education in Judaism--i.e., none--that it came as a shock to me to realize that the Torah and the Bible are the same thing. I knew that Jews didn't call it the Old Testament, it being our only Testament, but I had no idea that those Torah scrolls up in the

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-20186307297757158432006-12-07T13:46:00.000-08:002006-12-07T18:31:34.175-08:00

"And how do you think he's doing, socially?" I asked near the end of our parent-teacher conference on Tuesday afternoon, after Mrs. W had gone over N's report-card grades, his academic strengths and weaknesses, and his still-obvious bouts of anxiety in class and how she's been handling them.She leaned back in her chair and considered me. "I think there's still an issue there," she said, and then

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-85978996604441988082006-12-06T00:44:00.000-08:002006-12-06T00:57:57.587-08:00

So there's car stuff, and work stuff, and kid stuff. There's stuff at the temple, stuff at the school, stuff at home. I keep moving, and I keep working, and it's fine. It's really fine. It's going to be fine.It's just not going to let me take the time I need to write about it, is all.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-69866177002938145742006-12-04T20:00:00.000-08:002006-12-04T20:10:25.906-08:00

Meet Blue Clifford:[My now-deader-than-a-doorknob very very red Mazda MPV was dubbed Big Red by N after viewing The Clifford Movie, in which the Clifford is named Big Red by a circus trainer. When asked what my new car should be called, N hesitated only seconds before announcing, "Purple Clifford." I had to proclaim that I would not be calling the car Purple Clifford since it is blue, not purple,

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-73388321105079051102006-12-01T16:40:00.000-08:002006-12-01T16:50:12.069-08:00

Car. Just died. Officially.AFTER the 800 bucks two weeks ago when the radiator overheated and we had to replace it and get new hoses.AFTER the 50 bucks for the failed smog check.AFTER the 100 bucks for the new switch that caused us to fail the smog check.AFTER the 150 bucks for the brake job we did at the same time because we were going to have to do one sooner rather than later.AFTER the 100

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-40220871599497191822006-11-30T23:03:00.000-08:002006-11-30T23:30:36.669-08:00

They've hired a teacher to replace Mrs. W, or so Mrs. W told me when she called me this evening. (She called because we didn't get to talk today during recess when I was volunteering and she wanted to catch up with me and how I think N is doing. Man, I'll miss her.)The kids got the first of the year's three report cards today. Em got her usual: lots of 3s (at grade level) and even a few fours (

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-56712329253902726292006-11-29T17:55:00.000-08:002006-11-29T18:10:20.084-08:00

Tomorrow is the last day of the month, and it's sort of making me sad. Because, you know what? I've really enjoyed this whole NaBloPoMo thing. Like, a lot. As for NaNoWriMo? Not so much. Things got interesting at ParentsConnect for me this month (more work, more to my liking, changes a'comin'), and I just didn't have the time to churn out 50K worth of words on a piece that's pretty hard for me to

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-16021577044236907502006-11-28T23:22:00.000-08:002006-11-29T00:33:54.648-08:00

So I asked N, as we were walking home from school today, if he'd heard some important news that day."Oh, yes," he perked up, all proud to be able to tell me something I didn't know (as far as he knew, that is).After he'd told me that Mrs. W is "never, never, never, never, never" coming back to My Kids' Elementary, I asked him how that made him feel."Sad," he said. "But not as sad as Trent. I just

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-50654785127482792822006-11-27T18:59:00.000-08:002006-11-27T19:22:34.717-08:00

Goddamnmotherfuckingbitchbastardgrumblegrumblegrumblegrumble.Oh, sorry Mom. Did I say that out loud?Phone call from Mrs. W, N's kindy teacher, this afternoon. (They had YET ANOTHER DAY off of school today, for report-card prep. That means they haven't been in school since LAST TUESDAY. But I digress.)You know it's not going to be good news when the teacher says, "Are you sitting down? I have

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-64406515968968980932006-11-26T19:08:00.000-08:002006-11-26T19:24:42.956-08:00

Em and I went to spend a few hours today at a local botanical garden. When I say that we had the following three conversations, in this exact order, in the space of half an hour, I am in no way exaggerating. When I say that after each one of them I had to say to myself, "She's NINE?" I am in no way exaggerating. And when I say that I almost choked on my tongue trying not to laugh after the last

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-5556549275084109402006-11-25T12:59:00.000-08:002006-11-25T13:14:18.742-08:00

N is outside playing with the 'big boys' next door, who are 9 and 11. He suddenly comes running in to the office."Mrs. V asked me if I want to come inside her house and have something to eat," he announces."Well, would you like to?" I say.He hesitates. "No, not really.""So what do you think you should tell her?""I think I should tell her 'I don't want to eat in your house,'" he announces.My face

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-84659120331659878122006-11-24T18:21:00.000-08:002006-11-24T20:43:20.860-08:00

I fell asleep at around 11, putting N to bed. Considering it couldn't have taken him more than 30 seconds to pass out, this means it took me no more than 31.I woke up at 1:30 to stumble up to my bed, noticing that Baroy had done ALL the dishes, returned the kitchen table to the kitchen, swept everything, even cleaned the counters. I love that man.I woke up at around 8, hearing the kids downstairs

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-37759586717435127062006-11-23T22:28:00.000-08:002006-11-23T22:44:17.427-08:00

There were 11 people in my house today, and a 22-pound turkey. And gravy from the pan. And my special home-made cranberry sauce. And what will forevermore be my standard mashed potatoes, the make-ahead recipe I got from a Betty Crocker email. And my already-standard sweet-potato recipe. And a fabulous brussels sprouts and garlic recipe I pulled out of Vegetarian Times. And stuffing made by my

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-60891720291759005542006-11-22T10:05:00.000-08:002006-11-22T10:11:30.761-08:00

{Composed by Em and N Coconut]Em: In a couple of days it's going to be Thanksgiving, with stuffing and turkey galoreN: People are laughing and having funEm: And they are telling stories of the past and feasting on their food so goodTogether: Thanksgiving is the time to have funN: Tell me what you're thankful forEm: I am thankful for my family and friendsN: And I am thankful for WeeyumWiseTogether

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-65981765529743373672006-11-21T20:27:00.000-08:002006-11-21T20:41:51.352-08:00

As part of a project I'm working on for ParentsConnect, a PR firm I'd contacted sent me a pitch letter, a press release, and a...I kid you not...Know Your Mucus Fact Sheet, complete with a set of "Fun Facts About Mucus."These are the perks of my job. Other people get jetted off to the Virgin Islands to attend 'conferences'; I get to become more intimately acquainted with the literal ins and outs

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-63290626778160297532006-11-20T12:44:00.000-08:002006-11-20T22:56:15.564-08:00

Against my will, I took Em for the Big Thanksgiving Shopping Expedition to the supermarket on Sunday morning. And something absolutely amazing happened while we were there: She helped me. Not just helped; she made the shopping go more quickly. She went running to the baking aisle while I picked out brussels sprouts; she went over to get the butter while I pulled milk off the shelf. She helped me

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-91168639041830701952006-11-19T15:32:00.000-08:002006-11-19T15:42:18.035-08:00

In short: The picture I took last night of Baroy, sprawled out across our Big Comfy Chair, "resting his eyes" while the kids watched Spy Kids 2 during Family Movie Night, with N's Spongebob Squarepants doll nestled in the crook of his arm.Hilarious. And just the piece of ammunition I need for Thanksgiving dinner when he threatens, as he always does when there's a fresh audience, to trot out that

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-10939466805527044042006-11-18T09:22:00.000-08:002006-11-19T15:42:51.919-08:00

I fell asleep on N's bed (again) last night. Before Baroy went to bed, he came and shook me awake. This is what we do. This is fine.I stumbled out to our office/family room, remembering that I'd left my computer (an iBook) open on my desk, and wanting just to close the cover before I went to sleep. It was off. This is what Baroy does. This is NOT fine.He and I have had this conversation about a

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-20987240053606803332006-11-17T12:10:00.000-08:002006-11-17T12:11:09.425-08:00

Last nightN: Can I watch some TV?Me: Sure, but you're going to have to go put your pjs on before you can turn the TV on.N, stamping his feet and screaming: You're mean! (Pause.) AGAIN!Well, you know what they say, kid: Practice makes perfect.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-33367040732885645612006-11-16T19:56:00.000-08:002006-11-16T20:50:47.179-08:00

WARNING: There's going to be a discussion of breasts, guys. And it's going to be decidedly UNsexy. About as unsexy as discussions come. Enter at your own risk.In a recent entry, Jane was taking to task those of us women who wear less-than-flattering undergarments. Oh, why try to be demure about it...bras. She was unhappy with the bra choices made by many women. I believe the phrase Saggy

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-10257899691223199702006-11-15T21:08:00.000-08:002006-11-15T21:20:43.338-08:00

I give you this, a photo of myself (the oldest, tallest one), my younger sister (the one dressed like me), and our not-yet-as-of-this-photo, but-is-now stepsister.I have a couple of photo albums of pictures from my 'youth,' but this is one that I had not seen in...maybe forever. If you'd asked me before I'd seen this today if I'd EVER worn a hair ribbon, I'd have laughed in your face.And, yes, it

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-4251541024785217962006-11-14T19:49:00.000-08:002006-11-14T20:16:02.630-08:00

Since I posted about N's experimentation with self-barbering, I've had several people ask to see the photographic evidence. But then there was that whole "I don't want my kids too recognizable on the Internet" issue for me to deal with. Melanie suggested I have the kids draw N's new look, which made me laugh in delight...and then decide to go her one better. I hereby give you N, with his new

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-74498541653864606972006-11-13T21:13:00.000-08:002006-11-14T08:40:46.125-08:00

[WAH! I had this post all written out, and then went to put N to sleep, and fell asleep on his bed with him, and so missed posting it yesterday, and now I'm worried that I'm going to be ruthlessly shunned by all other NaBloPoMo participants because even though I'm keeping the original posting date of the 13th, this really didn't go up until the 14th, and I feel so INADEQUATE! Damn that decision

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-70286201207277424332006-11-12T22:33:00.000-08:002006-11-12T23:06:56.039-08:00

N had a great day on Saturday.The trip to the dog park and the half-hour of climbing and sliding at the next-door-to-the-dog-park playground was OK, but it was on the ride home that the fun really started. Smoke! Pouring out of the back of Mommy's car! Cool! And then the car stopped dead in the middle of the street on a major boulevard. Even cooler! But the Best Thing Ever came after Mommy called

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-78548399859408406362006-11-11T17:24:00.000-08:002006-11-11T17:32:35.813-08:00

I've explained this concept in the past. This week's edition, however, has only one request for help, and it's for me.Can you help a mother who's at her wit's end with her adorable, irrascible, emotional, trouble-making kid? The one she's starting to think may actually be unsalvageable? The one she's starting to worry may be The Bad Seed?For example, today alone we had the

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-443610994403181042006-11-10T22:44:00.000-08:002006-11-10T23:39:21.042-08:00

I almost didn't get this post in on time for NaBloPoMo today, what with the time-suck inherent in being the World's Greatest Mom and all.No, I'm serious. You know how there are days when you think, darkly, that foster care would be better for your kids than what you're providing for them? And you know how there are days--the majority of them, if you're lucky--when you feel like you're just

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-85909145568448283952006-11-09T17:39:00.000-08:002006-11-09T17:59:09.221-08:00

--Mom, do you think our family is unusual?--In what way?--I don’t know. Like we’re messier than other families.--Is that what you mean by unusual?--No, not really.--So what do you mean by unusual?--I don’t know.--Well, I guess, no, I don’t think our family is unusual.--You don’t think we’re unusual because all the people in our family are writers, and you’re kind of famous, even if people don’t

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-7332588066828618212006-11-08T18:58:00.000-08:002006-11-08T22:36:07.162-08:00

Rich asked, in response to my two-days-ago post about N's self-grooming attempts, "You don't really consider your blog anonymous, do you?"Funny he should ask that. A good number of weeks ago, I'd started to write the following entry after several of you noted that I'd posted the first-ever photos of myself on this blog:I started this blog in complete anonymity, and for more than a year, I kept it

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-58577468043374741282006-11-07T19:46:00.000-08:002006-11-07T20:14:47.856-08:00

I'm much too busy right now smiling broadly at the television, in stark contrast to the tears two years ago, to spend much time on the computer blogging tonight. (As I type this, the Dems just took the House, per CNN. My friend B just commented on AIM that Nancy Pelosi is now one hearbeat and one cold, machinelike evil pacemaker away from the Oval Office.)There's still time for frowning, however,

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-51835633825035834652006-11-06T16:46:00.000-08:002006-11-06T17:12:48.941-08:00

"I think N may have done something he wasn't supposed to," Em says quietly from her computer, where she is checking to see if her social studies textbook is online yet."Why do you think so?" I'm wary; the two of them have been at each others' throat lately, and I can't necessarily trust every tattle that comes my way. Still, this doesn't sound triumphant or angry. It's just a statement of fact."

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-49851909507796356242006-11-05T17:42:00.000-08:002006-11-05T18:07:50.007-08:00

Sticking that NaBloPoMo post at the top here was interfering with Bloglines somehow, and annoying the crap out of me. So, never mind. I'm doing it. You'll just have to take my word for it.-------Our current health insurance is going to run out by the end of the year, unless we sign up for Cobra, which will run us...wait for it...over $1400 A MONTH for the four of us. This, at the same time that

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-88571223163807620882006-11-04T20:11:00.000-08:002006-11-04T20:54:44.381-08:00

Baroy eyed me suspiciously as I sat curled up in my favorite chair, my legs pulled up underneath me, my book--what many people call The Book--open on my lap."You're not going to become one of those Bible-quoting zealots now, are you?" he said. "Because I don't think I could deal with that."It was meant as a joke. Except I know, and he knows, it was also a serious statement. Maybe even a vague,

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-1703804667614330012006-11-03T15:39:00.000-08:002006-11-03T16:02:45.411-08:00

One of the amazing things that has happened in this house over the past six months is the relationship that N and Snug have built with one another.There's the classic boy-and-his-dog stuff, of course. N's too young at five (and too small, being the size of someone younger than his actual age) to handle a dog that outweighs him by probably close to 20 pounds now, so he doesn't get to walk the dog.

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-68744752656278643142006-11-02T07:51:00.000-08:002006-11-02T07:52:12.906-08:00

In case you were wondering...since the initial tally just two weeks ago, I've had to clean up/dispose of/gag over the tiny corpses of three more no-longer-breathing birds, not to mention shooing away the one that somehow flew in through the window on its own steam (I assume, since it was unharmed).Today's carcass was clearly that of a very young bird. Its feathers are all over my sleeping bag, on

TCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707773.post-81843001128802925182006-11-01T19:25:00.000-08:002006-11-01T19:39:19.097-08:00

Rich is confused. Poor Rich. I'm going to try to unconfuse/deconfuse him.NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. You can visit it at http://nanowrimo.org. The idea is to write, from scratch, a 50,000 word first draft of a novel (or the first 50,000 words of a first draft of a novel). I'm participating this year, except I'm not really following ANY of the rules. I'm working on a piece of

TCnoreply@blogger.com0