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4 kittens

She is hiding stolen food in her baby carriage!

Posted on 2016.09.11 at 22:43
I told my abstract algebra class, "There's a famous math joke with the punchline 'abelian grape' but I can't remember the set-up." We were learning about abelian groups. No one pulled out their phone and googled it. No one seemed to care very much.

Midway through the next class, I casually asked, "What's purple and commutes?" They all looked up and got quiet, and looked at me expectantly. No one put it together. "AN ABELIAN GRAPE!" I semi-shouted. They all laughed really hard, much harder than the joke warrants.

This must be an ideal way to tell a joke: slip someone the punchline, offhandedly. Then a few days later, when you give them the set-up, they'll doubly appreciate it. Trebly so. Try it out and report back, okay?


There's a butterfly invasion in Heebieville! It started on Tuesday and is still going strong.

They don't photograph well, but if you're patient, you can find 11 in the zoomed in shot below. Are you Gallant or Goofus?


Our friends have two daughters, 11 year old R and 8 year old B.  The elder gets very anxious about the minutia of daily life - will I be able to remember my locker combination in middle school? Will I forget my gym shoes? R narc'ed on her friend to me, a friend who was pretending not to have the remote control, after about ten seconds on Saturday night. "It's her! She has it!" R blurted out. The tension had been nonexistent, the perpetrator gave me a bright smile.  (The perpetrator had turned the volume on the movie up to 50, and I was asking them to turn it down.) (Speaking of losing your shit over minutia, Hawaii did so mid-week, after we got a message from the principal about a change in the lunch menu. She'd been really counting on corn dogs on Thursday, and this was a real punch to the gut. We are maybe not raising resilient kids.)

The other daughter, B, is extremely blase about life's minutia. Could not be less worried about what anyone will think when small things go wrong. Instead, B has massive existential crises, like the one driving home from the beach last weekend, sobbing for three hours about how she'll never be four years old again. Grappling in a deep way about that. Sobbing, sobbing. "I'll never be a little ba-aa-by like Rascal agaaain".

That's some deep stuff, B! I also get despair over that exact issue! If that were my kid, I'd probably grab the tissue box and join in.


Hawaii and Pokey are on the same soccer team this season. We requested, per Hawaii, that they be on separate teams, but they got put on the same team anyway. (Thank you, scheduling gods.) They played great this weekend!

Jammies made me peel 24 oranges and put 20 grapes in each of 12 bags, for their halftime snack.  It's embarrassing and terribly absurd that they have a halftime snack. The little dears can't possibly get by with Gatorade and water after playing two 8-minute quarters.  It puts me in the irritating position of siding with the straw Baby Boomer asshole who complains about participation trophies.

After peeling all those oranges, my thumbs were very sore. (I blew it, and didn't pay attention to see if they stuck out, though.) Now my thumbnail has that pried-apart feeling.

Mother Crocodile was furious! "Just when I finally get my darling little babies to sleep, you have to come along and awaken them!" she said.

Sometimes I identify with Mother Crocodile:

I pushed the stroller around on the grass for 30 minutes until I accomplished this, and I was very hot and tired. "Dudley! Dudley! I could have told you she wasn't the robber," said Sam Potatoes.

Soccer games in September are so unpleasantly hot.


Pokey likes to squish my belly and coo, "Chubby mommy. Chubby mommy." I like it, too.

Our current narrative is that he's doing better! We are telling ourselves that these past two weeks, Pokey only punched kids who were hassling him, (and in fact one kid in particular). That it was a normal five year old scuffle, as opposed to Pokey coping with frustration by punching out an innocent bystander. We're getting there.


E. Messily packed sack dinners for Ace and I, for Ace's dance class. Ace unzipped her lunchbox as soon as she was buckled in her carseat.

"Mom!" said Ace, "I'm really proud of E. Messily for giving me the purple bowl." I texted E. Messily to inform her of Ace's comment. "I knew she would be," E. replied.


Hawaii, whatcha learning in 2nd grade? How's it going?

Aww, they grow up so fast.

(But for real, I laughed and laughed when I saw her homework. Snack Attack is a children's book where the cat wants a snack, and traps the rat, and does in fact eat the rat. The last page shows the burping, satiated cat with distended belly. It's an unexpected turn.)


At one point this morning, Pokey, Ace, and Rascal were marching up and down the house, parade-style, singing, "This is the dumbest song everrrrrrr.  This is the dumbest song everrrrrr!"  Or at least Pokey and Ace were singing, and Rascal marched enthusiastically.

It's got a nice wink to it, a cross between The Song that Never Ends and The Stupid Question game. Do you know how to play the stupid question game? Do you want to play it? Are you having fun?


(Anonymous) at 2016-09-12 12:44 (UTC) (Link)


I hear screeming / I see death. <-- This is wonderful.

That photograph, of the peeled oranges, is also wonderful. It's like a Dutch painting, one of those by Vermeer or whoever.
(Anonymous) at 2016-09-12 12:45 (UTC) (Link)


Gah. That was me, delagar. Why am I still anonymous?
heebie_geebie at 2016-09-19 04:10 (UTC) (Link)


Well, now I'm newly appreciating my lush oranges. Thank you!

I could not be happier with Hawaii's reappropriation of her homework, for real.
(Anonymous) at 2016-09-14 00:15 (UTC) (Link)


I'm... not looking forward to soccer. It's not nearly as hot here (exurbs of DC) as it is in Texas, but heat sucks. The good news is that around here, it's "futsal" that's all the rage. So there's a *chance* I might avoid it! If (a) we're still living here and (b) I can unilaterally make this trendy trend last for a decade or more.

heebie_geebie at 2016-09-19 04:13 (UTC) (Link)

Re: Soccer

On the whole I don't mind it that much? I have to remember to wear clothes that don't make me pissy when I get overheated. It's better if we bring an umbrella or something. It will be better in October when it's ten degrees cooler. etc.

I played futsol once! In Austin. It sort of hurt my foot to kick that dumb ball, but it was also more of the kind of soccer that I like playing and less of the violent aggressive side that I don't like.
(Anonymous) at 2016-09-17 13:55 (UTC) (Link)
"It's embarrassing and terribly absurd that they have a halftime snack. The little dears can't possibly get by with Gatorade and water after playing two 8-minute quarters."

Yes. So much yes.
Turgid Jacobian
heebie_geebie at 2016-09-19 04:15 (UTC) (Link)
It is literally embarrassing. It drives me nuts. It also makes life a little easier because there's extra food for the little kids to eat, and it's interesting novel food that someone else brought, while we're passing the time on the sideline. But mostly it's terrible.
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