Log in

No account? Create an account
July 2018   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
4 kittens

You guys are strange and amazing, kind and occasionally annoying. But you are great neighbors.

Posted on 2017.07.23 at 23:11
Goodbye cabin!

The kids never did know that big table was a pool table. They also never noticed the mounted weapons on the wall:

Hello house! I like to say that we live in a second story walk up.

This photo was taken before the stairs were built.

It's so nice to drink coffee out of my coffee mug, and sit in my striped chair by the window.  There's going to be a lattice over the front, and I'd like to plant a climbing vine, maybe jasmine, along it.

I was reminded about a TV show that aired before 2011, and I remembered that Jammies and I watched it in the old blue living room that no longer exists. That room got dismantled when we built the addition. The addition was built in the space the blue room had occupied, and beyond.

The physical location of that blue living room is four feet lower than our current house. Surely the ghost of a former room does not get elevated when you elevate a house. So not only was the room dismantled, there is literally not even any house in that location anymore. I think we are living in a House-Ship of Theseus. (We could add a ship's steering wheel to the front porch, and an anchor, and be Admiral Boom about it all.  Crow's nest up top, cargo net to climb down to the backyard.)

When you leave our front door, you now walk backwards towards our backyard for a half flight:

and then forwards towards the front yard for a half flight:

I like it. "Face the river," I think, for a moment, "then face the day."

Hawaii and Pokey

They had their first sparring practice at karate! They were nervous; they both did well.

We checked an origami book out from the library.

Penguin and cats by Hawaii.

She asked for a some wide popsicle sticks so that she could make the cats into puppets, which I haven't yet procured, but will.

Pokey made himself a village of llama-like zebras.

  This crane was the hardest thing to figure out; he and I did it together. (It wasn't in the book; we had to look online.)

Pokey is really intense about the origami. He folds quickly and sloppily. He asks you for help, but his brain works so much quicker than Jammies and mine that you can't really get him to hold still and let you think. He snatches it away and says, "I think I got it," and keeps going. It's a bit manic.


Each night, Pokey asks me to give him a good dream. His favorite is one where we're cute little squirrels on a snowy mountain. To get up the mountain, we have to scrabble over the tree tops. To get down the mountain, we grab big leaves (yes, don't tell the storyboard editor that there are big elephant ear leaves available on a snowy mountain) and slide down the snowy bank to the bottom. At the bottom, there's a big pot of hot chocolate and a ladle, and we have cups, and there's a big campfire.

I only set the stage for the dream, and then Pokey has to dream the rest. "I like this one so much I wish it were real," Pokey said wistfully. It was bittersweet.


Auuuggggh my baby is growing up. I'm not going to have a two year old forever. I love this age.  Those knuckle dimples and thigh pudge, and general sweetness.

Rascal's verbal skills have ratcheted up in the past month. He's now expressing much more complicated ideas. (This would be a good lede for an example, if I'd thought to write one down.)


1. On the plane to California, Ace said, "This bathroom is amazing. We're going potty on an airplane! It's like being naked on an airplane!"  I know what she means - it's not like how you leave a movie theater and go to the bathroom in the lobby. It's more like if there were one special potty-seat in the movie theater, which was enclosed so that you could pee while watching the movie. You're in such close proximity. Or when you're camping and you change clothes in your tent - there's just a flimsy piece of nylon and some etiquette rules preserving your modesty.

"This trash can is amazing!" she exclaimed, when we washed our hands at the tiny airplane sink.

2.  "It's our family!"

"Now take a picture of their butts!"

3. "I'm worried I'm never going to figure out what to name my baby when I have a baby," Ace says periodically. "I just can't think of any names.

The temptation to start listing off ridiculous names is irresistible. "Petunia? Brunhilda? Petticoat?"
"No, no, no," she'll veto. "And I can't do Hawaii, or Pokey. I already have a stuffed animal named Fantasia, can't do that." The monologue of off-limits names takes awhile, and always concludes that's she's coming up empty. "There just aren't any names left!"

4. "Ace, c'mere, I need to comb out that knot in your hair."
Ace, walking away, "Stop! I like it. It's so comfy. It goes like this," flicking it fashionably up on top of her head.


Dear weirdos,

You guys are strange and amazing, kind and occasionally annoying. But you are great neighbors.

Ace and Rascal, and Hawaii and Pokey

Ace and Rascal are just so different than Hawaii and Pokey were at their age.  When Dora the Explora is on,  Ace and Rascal answer Dora out loud. They do the arm movements that Dora requests of them.

Whereas Hawaii and Pokey used to look at Dora like she was a dumbass - Dora would pause for the audience to respond, and the silence would just drag. Hawaii and Pokey would not be cajoled to stand up and pretend to climb or swim along with Dora.

At lunchtime, Ace and Rascal loved it when I brought out all the ingredients I could think of, and made them tiny tiny ridiculous sandwiches. "This one is a piece of apple and a raisin and some jelly!" They thought a lot of the mini-sandwiches were gross, but they laughed and squealed and loved the premise.  Hawaii and Pokey would not have thought this was great fun. They would have been suspicious - especially Hawaii - and increasingly upset that they weren't being given the lunch they'd asked for, and I'd have abandoned the endeavor.

Hawaii and Pokey were often cranky and mad, but they took rules seriously.  Ace and Rascal are always merry and silly and having fun. They do not take discipline seriously at all.

The other night, Hawaii came to me and complained, "I can't find the invisible tape."
I laughed. "Of course you can't! It's invisible!"
She got mad. "MOM. This isn't funny! I need the..." she tried to avoid saying the word but couldn't, "...invisible tape! Where is it?!"
I laughed harder and tried to tell her that I honestly didn't know.
Eventually Hawaii started laughing, too, and agreed that it was pretty funny. That made me happy. She wouldn't have come around like that when she was little.


Has been waging war against the utensil drawer. This is his third attempt, at least. The problem is that the spoons and forks need to stack neatly, instead of sloshing around willy-nilly with their like silverware, in a slotted tray.  Plus a lot of other rules I couldn't hope to recite. I love that he's working so hard on this, even though I can't really describe the issue while keeping a straight face.

I didn't take a before-photo - I mean, silverware drawer - and I didn't even take an after-photo, even though I obviously still could.

Look what's going on inside Jammies' favorite mug:

That silver spirograph is from stirring his coffee.


"Shut up and eat your tri-colored glop."

This might be the lamest dinner I've ever made? (We were totally out of groceries.) That is potato flakes fakely mashed, frozen edamame freshly thawed, and refried beans from a can, gently warmed.  Lots of protein, but it felt like a meal at vegan prison.

FAMILY PORTRAIT! I wish I knew two dads raising four boys; it's really their family portrait.

 I fished this out of a trashcan at the gym. It used to belong to the former owner of my gym, whose name is Jack. So now I have a jack named Jack.

This quesadilla I made has a sloth face.

2017 is the year I said fuck you to bathing suits. I'm totally done with the idea that my inner thighs should be visible to the public. This year I am wearing bike shorts, basically, and a rash guard, and I'm so happy about it. It's like wearing your regular shorts and t-shirt when everyone else is in lingerie. Oh, sure, wear your lingerie! You look great! but I'm really glad to wear actual clothes, thank you.


(Anonymous) at 2017-07-24 20:36 (UTC) (Link)


My best friend was raised in a lifted house, which I have in retrospect have come to believe is kind of cool. Every time there is flooding in the area and I am worried, my friend isn't. That's very valuable! ~trumwill
heebie_geebie at 2017-07-31 04:34 (UTC) (Link)

Re: Congrats!

It's such a relief. I have the full sense of safety again, even though that's always slightly inaccurate given the myriad of things that can getcha. And the treehouse effect is lovely.
Previous Entry  Next Entry