Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Open Letter to the Driver of a Red Dodge Ram

Dear Sir:

I am sooo sorry about our encounter last week. I understand, fully and completely, that I was a fly in the ointment of your day. I mean, come on, how dare I be an actual human being.

I am going to take a moment, for the betterment of your future days, to explain how a woman with two kids under the age of five leaves the grocery.
1. I push the stupid, hard to steer car-cart (which is the only one that will seat two kids) out to my car.
2. I pop the tail end of my minivan and load all the groceries from said stupid cart in the rear, being careful to not knock out the stroller and loading things precariously on top of the pack and play that I have been trying to get out of my car for two weeks.
3. I disgustedly read the sign on the car cart commanding me to push it back to the store and NOT leave it in one of the handy cart corrals I took for granted when I only had the one child.
4. I push the ridiculous thing back to the store.
5. I unstrap both children, hold the one that's not walking, threaten the one that is that if she runs off I will flush the ice cream down the toilet.
6. I walk back to the car at the pace (this is important) determined by my four year old. Since I cannot hold her and she cannot walk as fast as me without running, she sets the pace.
7. I open the driver's door and help the older one climb into my seat and then ask her to climb through to hers.
8. I open the driver's side rear door and place the little one in the car seat and then strap her carefully in. (It's the law.)
9. I walk around to the other side of the car and open the passenger rear door and strap my oldest into her car seat.
10. I walk back around and get in the driver's seat. I take a deep breath and check for the essentials: wallet - check, cell phone - check, keys - check.
11. I buckle myself in.
12. I leave.

Notice that there are twelve steps to this process. This is not a short process. I try to never take both children to the store for this very reason. But sometimes, there's just no getting around it.

While I certainly appreciated your constant honking to remind me that you wanted my space and you're use of profanity within earshot of my children when I didn't move fast enough was absolutely the motivation I needed, none of that actually hurried me up any.

You see, when you see a crazy looking lady dragging kids around, pushing a cart that looks like a reject from the Daytona 5, you should think for a moment about what kind of person she looks like. Because there is a concealed carry law in this state.

Sincerely,
The Scary Looking Mama With the Nice, Big Purse

Monday, June 29, 2009

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

I am, of course, speaking of Michael Jackson. I have been bombarded (as has the entire country) with coverage, commentary and chatter regarding his death, his plastic surgeries, his painkiller addiction, his alleged misconduct with children and his own kids.

It's not that I don't care, but SHUT UP, ALREADY!

I believe that every human life deserves mourning. Hitler deserved to be mourned. Jeffery Dahmer deserved to be mourned and when Charles Manson dies, he will be mourned. I believe that with all my heart. There is no soul so black on this Earth that someone will not be hurt by their passing.

I also believe that death is a personal, quiet affair that should not be trumpeted from the highest tower (unless you are the Pope or a national leader - then people just kinda need to know). I am always amazed when I watch the Oscars at all the people who died that year that I didn't hear about. Celebrity is a weird thing. If Suzanne Pleshette had been caught selling meth, everyone and their dog would know about it, but just dying, eh, whatever.

So, all this MJ jazz has got me thinking about a lot of stuff, death-wise. Here are a few of my thoughts:

1. I want my news back. Okay, Iran was depressing the crap out of me. But, it was better than 24-7 coverage of where his kids are, who's under investigation, what does his creepy dad have to say about it. I'm over it. I'm ready to move on, why won't Good Morning America let me move on?

2. What defines a person's worth? Obviously, any other human being who dangled his child over a balcony and was repeatedly accused of child molestation wouldn't have millions crying in the street over them. So, is it just the music? Was it that good? I lived through a good deal of it (everything but the cute Jackson 5 Michael) and I still don't get it. I stayed up late to watch Thriller, I sang Billie Jean until people's ear drums exploded, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when Eat It came out. But, still, he was just another singer to me. Okay, a really famous singer, but is it going to be like this when Bono dies? Someone said that it was not mourning for the man, but for the cultural icon, the death of an era, literalized. Okay, I can buy that. We aren't mourning him at all, but mourning the 80's, the white glove, the music video (and don't you dare tell me that music videos aren't dead - when did you last see one on TV? huh, huh? 3 a.m. Mmm-hmm. Thought so.)

3. Why are people sooo upset? No matter what you are mourning, I bet all these people crying in the streets, gnashing their teeth, laying out memorials and missing work won't be this upset when their own mother's die. Did you know him? No. Then get a grip.

4. Why are people sooo angry that people are upset? At first, I was just watching in amazement wondering how people can be so wrapped up in the lives of celebrities. Then the yelling started. The "Yippee another pedophile dead!" crowd and I can't think that's a good reaction either. Now, don't get me wrong, I had a similar reaction when he walked. Again. But, it's over, he's dead. Is it worth making the people who did know him, the people who are genuinely mourning feel like crap for loving him. No.

5. Is this just because I'm old? How much different from Kurt Cobain's death is this? Granted I didn't wail and gnash my teeth, but I wore all black to school for a few days. I listened to Heart Shaped Box and cried. I worried about what would happen to Dave Grohl and Krist Novoselic. (Turns out they would be just fine and arguably better off than if they had stayed in Nirvana forever.) And little Francis Bean. How I worried for her.

Was that different somehow or is it because I was young and unencumbered enough that a rock star's death could envelope my life for three days without dire consequence? Or was it different because it was MY cultural icon? The one that meant something to me, that resonated with me, that sang songs to my depressed adolescent girl self. Undeniably, I own the "notebook" that Cobain wrote lyrics in (mass produced to keep Courtney Love in heroine or Francis Bean in college). I still will listen to Nevermind on auto-repeat all day long. I still stop and stare when I see those haunting blue eyes and that sweater. (Someday I will write sonnets about that ugly sweater that symbolized everything good and pure to my sixteen year old self.)

I am trying to sympathize. Trying to understand. Trying to get it. But really, I just want it to end. I just want life to return to normal. No more specials or news stories or interviews. I never thought I would see the day I'd say this, but haven't Jon and Kate done something stupid lately? What about Lindsey Lohan? Is she still clean? Paris Hilton? Haven't seen her lately?

* I fully intend to post an exciting, edge of your seat kind of post on What's in My Crochet Bag tonight, after I get home, where I left my camera. But, seeing as it's the same post I was going to post last Monday, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. Because, face it, if you die before July 16th, no one's gonna notice. Just look at poor Farrah and Billy Mays.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Movie News

Today, I have, for your reading enjoyment, three pieces of Jessi-fied movie news:

1. Tim Burton is making a live action Alice in Wonderland. Did anyone else just make a squee sound? No, just me that is this excited. Does this help:


image courtesy of Disney, via MamaPop

Creepy, huh? In a really good way, though. I am all about Tim Burton and his warped little dead people falling in love world. I will probably be one of the first ones in line to see it. Will I take my kids? NOOOOOOOO. I can't imagine taking little ones to something this obviously nightmare inducing. I still get nightmares from Willy Wonka.

2. Brynna's going to see Transformers. I really, really want to see Transformers, but she is going without me. Why, you ask, why? Because my little brother wants to take her. And I am being a gracious mother. Actually, I have been trying to point out good things about this development and I have a few: a. They are going to the drive-in, so I get to see how she's gonna do with that, without chancing having to leave halfway through the first movie with a screaming child in the car. b. It's cheaper this way. c. It may be 700 degrees at the drive-in tomorrow night and I will be in the air conditioned bed room watching Food Network.

3. I have a date for Harry Potter. It's not opening weekend, but that's okay, because it's the Monday immediately following opening weekend, and somehow, inexplicably, the only people I'll be around who might see it before me are my parents. I'm going with my book club and we are supposed to be going in costume, but it is right after work, so I may just take a witch hat to throw on my head. I'm very excited about it. Although, I'll have to take a box of tissues. I just know this is going to be worse than Sirius.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

I Take it Back, I Take it Back

I take back every terrible thing I ever said about Max and Ruby. Here's why:

This morning, Brynna woke up in full-on meltdown mode. "WHY IS SHE CRYYYYYIIIINNNNNGGGG?" she screamed mere seconds after opening her eyes.

"Morning, honey. Do you want to come in mommy's room and watch kids' shows? I'm getting ready to get Maren up." It's important to note that at this juncture, The Husband was in the shower and I was running around like a half-dressed chicken with her head cut off trying to pack two overnight bags, wondering why the crap I didn't make my book club dish last night and kicking the underfoot dog out of my path.

"NO! I want to go to sleep, but I can't go to sleep with her CRYYYYYIIIINNNNNGGGG!"

"Sorry, Charlie."

After calming Maren slightly, getting Brynna into my room, but fooling her into letting me keep the news on, packing both overnight bags, nagging The Husband about bringing the extra car seat upstairs, packing all the necessary ingredients for making book club dish, gathering my purse and all the necessary items to go with me by the door and finding shoes for everyone, I flopped down on the bed by Brynna.

"I don't want to go to Miss Amie's today." Oh crap. Can we please note that yesterday you were dying to go to Miss Amie's and didn't care if you never went to Aunt Alene's again. And this morning, you want to go back to Aunt Alene's and don't care if you ever see that Miss Amie person again. Four year olds, worse than movie women from the 50's with the indecisive.

"Sorry. No choice today. But, hey, at least you get to wear your jammies AND donuts for breakfast this morning!" Nothing placated her tiny heart, but she finally just gave in and accepted that I wasn't giving in.

So, after hauling all the packed items outside, strapping my children into their seats, realizing I forgot my lunch and my cell phone and my shoes, going back into the house to collect the forgotten items, saying a quick prayer that I had remembered everything that I had forgotten and finally getting the show on the road, my daughter started again.

"How did you fix that sign?"
"What sign?"
"The sign at church."
"What sign at church?"
"The one with that word on it."
"What word?"
"THE word."
"Where at church?"
"At our church. The new church."
"I don't know what sign you mean."
"THE SIIIIIIIGN."

This is the moment when I change parenting tatics. Pretend to get it and try to drop the subject quickly.

"Ooooh. That sign. I fixed it with tape."
"What kind of tape?"
"Scotch tape."
"How did you get it back up."
"Um. More tape."
"No, I mean with a ladder, or did you stand a really big chair, or did you get on the roof and drop down?"
"Oh, that sign. No, I didn't fix that sign, NiNi did."
"But you told Daddy you did."
"I don't remember that."
"OH NO. YOU LIED."

More screaming. Just what I was hoping for. We were, about this time, pulling into my mom's driveway. She's not even awake yet when I go by, so I carried the bags and spare car seat and maybe my kitchen sink onto her porch and left them there. Opened the door of car.

"I'm hungry, mommy."
"We're going to Miss Amie's and she'll have donuts."
"I'm hungry NOOOOWWWWW." More screaming.

When we got to Miss Amie's, she was, predictably, a freakin' angel. Because kid's are like cars, they never misbehave around the mechanic. She took off her shoes, stowed them in her spot and took off for the kitchen and it's donutty goodness. I sat on the floor and got Maren adjusted. Just as I was getting up to leave, a four year old flopped in my lap.

"I love you."
"I love you too, Pigeon, have a good day."
"Stay with you. Be with you. I love you." (You have to read that in a cheerleadery chant.) Brynna is slowly learning that whining is frowned upon in our house and typically unproductive. The methods she is using to replace whining, however, make whining look like winning the Nobel Peace Prize - exactly what you hope your kids will do.

We started the push and pull. I have to go. No, please stay. I have to go. Let me go with you. Work is boring. I liked it that time I went with you when I was sick. We only stayed for ten minutes and you were sick. I love you. I love you too, but I still have to work and I still have to go alone.

And then it happened. A familiar strain issued forth from the TV in the living room.

*Gasp* "What is that?" My eyes got big. "Max and Ruby... Ruby and Max" I sang excitedly to what is, possibly, the most inane theme song ever written.

She stood, kissed me on the cheek, hugged me and RAN for the living room couch.

The heavens opened and the angels sang. Joy echoed throughout the land.

So, I take it back, insipid, parentless bunny children. I hope with all my heart that you stay on the air FOREVER!

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

All My Tomorrows

So, I have a lot of things that I plan, vaguely on doing "tomorrow." I never write these things down because I would then have to admit that it is more than I could possibly ever accomplish in one day. I never think about them in conjunction with one another because then I would have to admit that I only really have about ten minutes unaccounted for tomorrow and that shall be used to lay in front of the air conditioner and pray for September. Oh, who am I kidding, it's at least December before I cool down.

So... I am going to do it. I am going to write them all down and start thinking about checking some of them off. Because I'm at work, where it's climate controlled and because I am getting fed up with some aspects of my current life. Like the fact that there are sleeping bags in my living room from an inside campout TWO WEEKENDS AGO!

Here are the things that I plan on doing "tomorrow*"

1. Catch up on the freaking laundry - I am so behind on laundry, I don't know how I'm going to pack the kids' overnight bags for tomorrow because they have no clean clothes. I am so behind that each night, as I'm laying down, I pray that the girls have accident free nights because they have no clean sheets and I can't bring myself to wash sheets until they have some socks and underwear.

2. Pack up my winter clothes and take them downstairs. I have had the box half full of winter clothes and half full of summer clothes in my bedroom floor since April, at least.

3. Clean out my car. From my vacation. Two weeks ago. A few days I found a can of Diet Coke rattling around in my floorboard. Yesterday I found a can of Sprite. If I don't do this soon, something is going to explode and then I will have to clean sticky crap off my ceiling. Been there, done that, never going to do it again.

4. Reorganize my bathroom closet. I can't find the bandaids or my good smelling lotion or the toilet paper. That's probably bad.

5. Clean Brynna's room. I would normally make her do it, and I'll make her help, but it's way past her being capable of doing herself. It's actually, as of last night, way past her being able to walk through by herself.

6. Finish the bookclub book. Then read the new Dresden book, because I got it yesterday and I'm sure there's a wait list, so I can't renew it.

*Please note that tomorrow's schedule looks like this: Get up, put a load of laundry in the washer, get ready for work, go to work, go to bookclub, admit that I am only halfway through the book, go home, put a load of laundry in the washer, look at the living room with disgust, watch Food Network in the bedroom.

I am well aware that none of these things will get tomorrow, but at least I've admitted to myself that it's hopeless. It's time to burn the house down and collect the insurance. (Crap, now if my house is legitimately struck by lightning and burns to the ground, they'll claim it was arson.)

Friday, June 19, 2009

Children's Television

Yesterday, I mentioned that I hate Yo Gabba Gabba. With a passion. With the fire of a million suns. With the endlessness of the ocean.

I was actually surprised to hear that there is an adult on the planet who doesn't mind that show. And that said adult hates Max and Ruby. So, I thought it might be fun to run down some shows Brynna watches and what I think of them.

Note: I thought that it was this generation of children's programming, because the stuff we watched as kids was so much better, right? Wrong. I bought her DVD's of CareBears and My Little Pony Tales and they are WRETCHED.

Max and Ruby - Why not start with controversy. I both love and hate Max and Ruby. I love it because the most controversial thing on M&R is are bunny scouts the same as Girl Scouts. I love it because it is quiet and easy to tune out. I hate it because where the crap are their parents. I hate it because Ruby is a bossy little brat and Max is a genius and why is the grandmother the only who sees that. I also hate it because Brynna sides with Ruby.

Ni Hao Kai Lan - I want to like it because it, like, teaches Chinese. How cool is that?!? But I hate it because of her annoying freaking voice.

Dora the Explorer - Again, I want to love Dora, but then there is the map song. The freaking Map Song. I want to rip the map to tiny, tiny shreds and throw it in Crocodile Lake. Also, what's with the stars? Why are they in some episodes but not all of them? And does anyone else think that Tico the Squirell looks like a serial rapist.

The Backyardigans - She could watch it all freakin' day and as long as I had a book, I'd be fine.

The Wonder Pets - Used to love. Hate it now. I know the characters are all supposed to be gender ambiguous, but let's face it, the only girl is Ling-Ling, the duck. And she is a whiny, scaredy-cat, selfish, stupid thing.

Growing Up Creepie - Probably too old for her, but Brynna loves bugs, so she loves this show. And I find it blissfully unannoying.

Agent Oso - Thank goodness she gets her fill of it at the babysitter's.

Phineas and Ferb - Ferbtacular. Sometimes we watch it after Brynna goes to bed. Has there ever been a more endearing, entertaining, intelligent show for kids? A show that neither insults their intelligence or that of their parents? (Okay, mom's a little clueless, but in a cute way.) Also, I love the girl characters. Candace may seem to be really shallow, but she is really just as inventive and smart as her brothers, she is just always one step behind. Isabella is awesome. I hope she and Ferb get married one day. And Vanessa is evil waiting to happen, which is really fun to watch.

Scooby Doo - Again, give me a book and I'm good to go. I really thought I would hate the newer version, but I don't. It's actually a little more complex than the original because it's not always a guy in a suit, sometimes it's a robot or a magic trick or something else, but it's still never a monster.

There's a whole host that fits under the category of Don't Mind It Because It's Quiet: Little Bear, Toot and Puddle, Little Bill, etc.

And then there's the pre-teen Disney live action stuff. I don't mind that either. Mostly because I find it a little funny and it's clean enough that even if Brynna doesn't get it all, I don't mind her watching: Hannah Montana, Suite Life on Deck, Sonny with a Chance.

A friend without kids asked me once if I wasn't worried about Hannah Montana, because she's all into boys and stuff. I was kinda caught off guard by it and didn't really have an answer, but here's my answer today: When I was Brynna's age, the cartoons ended at five. The news came on and then prime time. Okay, I never watched a 14 year old girl swoon over a male movie star, but I watched Dallas. Enough said.

So... What kids' shows do you like? Hate? Find easy to tune out? If you don't have kids, chime in anyway. You probably have a different perspective. Like, I really liked Dora before I had to watch it all the time. The map song wasn't thaaaat bad and it's so educational. Pfft.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Conversations with a Four Year Old

"Mommy, my tummy aches."
"What kind of ache."
"An allergy ache."
"Oookaaaay. Is it a throw-up-feeling ache or a crampy ache, like your muscles are all making fists or a stabby ache, like someone is poking you with something sharp?"
"Everyone has muscles."
"Yep."
"Skyler-Belle's daddy has a lot of muscles. He's really big and strong. He could lift your van. And a house and a church and a stool."
"A stool, huh?"
"No. A SCHool. And a rose."
"A rose?"
"Yep. But he would have to be very careful and gentle to lift a rose because he is so strong."
"What about your daddy?"
"Huh?"
"Is your daddy as strong as Skyler-Belle's daddy?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he's not a big guy."*
"So, daddy's not that strong because he's just a little guy."
"No, he's a medium guy."
"Oh, so what can daddy lift?"
"I don't know. Medium stuff. It's a throw-upy ache."
_______________

"Mommy, when you have a lot of moneys, I'd like to go to a movie place."
"Oh, you want to see a movie? How about UP? I bet we can work it in this weekend."
"No. I don't want to go to theater to see a movie, I want to go to a movie place and be IN a movie."
"Oh."
"I think I could be on Yo Gabba Gabba. There are kids my age on that show."
"Yeah, but you hate Yo Gabba Gabba**."
"Yeah, but it would be cool to be on TV and I think that's my best bet."
_______________

"Sweetie, it's time to get up."
"I don't wanna."
"Look, Penny came to see you. Get up and pet Penny."
"Aack! Get her out of my bed."
"Why?"
"Because Tanner*** says that cats have flies and I don't want flies in my bed."
_______________

*The Husband probably outweighs Skyler-Belle's daddy by 50 lbs or so. He probably out-heights him by at least 5 inches. Skyler-Belle's dad is much closer to my size than his.

** We don't actually know that Brynna hates Yo Gabba Gabba. We hate Yo Gabba Gabba, and, like Bratz dolls, we've told her that she hates them since way before she could actually form an opinion of her own. She might really like acid trip kids TV and slutty Barbies, but we don't know that for sure. This is probably not the best parenting ever, but it works for us.

*** Name changed to protect the innocent to protect my sanity at not being able to remember that kid's name.

Also, for those keeping count, this is Post #100. HipHip. It's only taken me about two years to get to 100 posts, but look how regularly I'm posting now. I'll probably get to 200 before the end of the year.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

The Zoo

So, I finally got memory card and memory card reader in one place. Aren't you excited? I know you are, because there is nothing like watching someone else's vacation slide show!!

My new looking skinnier in photos method: make everyone sit on my lap. Is it working? Or should I just buy clothes that fit? That shirt is huge!

Okay, so no slide show. Instead, I thought I would share with you 6 Things I Learned From my Zoo Trip.

1. When Brynna starts acting like Satan has possessed her, feed her. Exactly the opposite of gremlins. We were all ready to leave because she was being so heinous and decided to eat lunch in the zoo first. Not only did we get to eat with a peacock, but as Brynna polished off a huge piece of pizza, a bag of chips, 2 genetically enhanced strawberries, 2 carrot sticks dipped in ranch dressing, half a piece of broccoli, 2 rice crispy treats and half a giant cookie, her mood improved. By the time we bid our dear peacock friend adieu, she was a normal human being.

If you've never broken bread with a peacock, you should try it. Very calming. Better than goldfish.

2. Baby peacocks are uglier than baby swans. I mean it. But also soo cute. I didn't want to get my hand pecked off, so I restrained myself, but I was dying to pick one of these guys up.
Seriously, like troll dolls. So ugly they are cute.

3. Some facepaint just doesn't photograph well. Brynna has a unicorn and stars and some other pink and purple stuff, but in all the pictures, it just looks like she has a horrible rash on the top half of her head.

There she is, Miss Allergy America.
4. Giraffes have really long tongues. Brynna got to feed a giraffe a cracker. Which was super cool. Especially after she petted the shark at the aquarium. More on that tomorrow. Anyway, I didn't get any good pictures of the giraffe tongue, but it wasn't for lack of trying. She fed him sort of through a deck rail.


5. Four year olds still need strollers. We spent the week looking for a wagon because I thought that a wagon was the best choice for two kids capable of sitting up. I couldn't find one that didn't seem ridiculously priced. So, we tried to get Brynna to walk. Not a good plan. While even after we got the stroller, she walked a lot, she was a lot happier just having a place to flop down. Next year I'll pay the frightening price and get a wagon. I still think that would have been the best plan. But, when we decided we needed a stroller, we were on the polar opposite side of the zoo from the one and only gift shop that rents strollers. Note to zoos, have more than one stroller rental site please.

This lovely creation cost me $7 to rent. Totally worth it, although I'm not sure it was worth my solitary hike back to the main entrance.
6. My zoo has a botanical garden, too. I think I knew that, but I have never been so in love with the flowers there. I took way more pictures of the flowers than I did of my kids.
Unfortunately, I didn't write down what any of my flowers were, so I am pretty much clueless except for the petunias. How sad is that?
*If you are a masochist who likes to look at other people's vacation photos. You can check them out on my Flikr stream. So far, only the zoo shots are up, but tomorrow I'll add the aquarium shots.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

The Payless Imelda Marcos

Someone called me that years ago. I don't remember who, but I liked it. Not because I care more about shoes than people, but because I really, really like shoes. And purses. And I tend to buy them at Payless.

Not anymore, though. Now I own about five pairs of shoes and I cry every time I think about it. Also, bags? I am such a bag queen. I always say, you can never have too many bags. You'll need them when you move. And yet, with all my bags, I am seriously underrepresented in the purse department.

Which is really what this is about. Even though the shoe thing makes me sad. (Seriously-five pairs of shoes-and I'm counting my flip flops.) But, no, it's about purses. You see, despite my undying love for purses, I have given up on them. At least until I a. write the great American novel or b. have mostly grown children.

I have a big black purse that I carry to work. It can hold an 9x12 folder, my planner, my camera, all my personal stuff and my summer house. I'm kidding, I don't have a summer house, but if I did, it would fit in that bag.

I have a diaper bag. I actually have two. A big one and a little one. They carry, well, diapers and other baby related stuff.

I have a little black purse that I call my date night bag. It barely carries anything.

And I have a wallet. It's a wallet that may, one day, be mistaken for Brynna's. It's purple with hearts all over it. But, it holds my cell phone. So, that's now what I carry. A wallet. I throw it in my big black work bag, or my diaper bag, or the library bag, or Brynna's backpack or my grocery cart. And, about once every two months, I throw it in that tiny black bag.

This might not sound sad. I can see that. I can see how you could read this and think, well, at least that wallet's working for ya. At least you're not carrying that briefcase masquerading as a purse with you everywhere you go. But you'd be wrong. It is sad. It's sad because I don't care about wallets, but I love purses. Of all the things I've given up as a mother - my alcohol tolerance, shopping trips that last all day, my record of never setting foot in Toys R Us, movies every weekend - the thing I miss the most (today) is purses.

So, who's with me? Who has given up something as an adult or a parent or a responsible employee or whatever, something stupid, something unimportant that you miss terribly, terribly bad? Share and we shall all commiserate.

By the way, I promise that soon, I will post vacation-y stuff. Pictures and all.

Monday, June 15, 2009

What's In My... Oh, Whatever

I'm a loser. I didn't do hardly any crochet at all over my vacation. I made a flower. One flower. I could ignore my loserness and launch straight into vacationyness, but I left my memory card at home, so no pictures.

But, at least, I'm a loser with a meme.

15 Books - I did this on Facebook, but I'm posting here with some detail of the whys.

The rules were: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes.

1. Gone with the Wind - Margaret Mitchell - I read this for the first time when I was about 11. Perhaps a little young for a lot of it, but I really loved it. I don't exactly think that Scarlet is a good role model, but she sure is independent. I think she was my first historical independent woman and I loved watching her manipulate the world to do her bidding.

2. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen - I have probably read this about 7 times and really only liked it about the last three. I'd like to say that it grew on me, but the truth probably is that I grew on it. Elizabeth is a good role model and I wish I'd gotten that earlier. Every time I re-read it, I gain a little more appreciation for the craft. Every character is perfectly created to fill a stereotype, while destroying the basis of that stereotype. Plus, Elizabeth and Darcy are the PERFECT romantic couple.

3. Hyperion Series - Dan Simmons - I read Hyperion in high school and was fascinated by the whole Canterbury Tales thing it had going but that was about it. About five or six years later, at the suggestion of a really good friend, I read the rest of the series. Wow. I love Sci-Fi that attacks the issues of faith and science and this does such a great job of that, plus the the story just kicks ass and the Matrix is a rip-off. I've tried to read other Simmons stuff and just didn't really dig any of it, but I will always come back to this series as the perfect kind of SF.

4. The Dark Tower Saga - Stephen King - Since I couldn't pick just one of his books, I went with the series that it all revolves around. (See me after class if you'd like to debate that, I love a good Dark Tower vs. The Stand debate.) Roland is the perfect anti-hero. You love him and hate him at the same time. I will posit that King's work is very closely akin to what Faulkner does with Yoknapatawpha County, only King maintains an entire universe complete with alternate realities. Deny it, I dare you. Through the Dark Tower series, King brings all of those realities together and you see that what previously seemed like different stories (some tied together - like the Castle Rock stories) are really just part of one eternal tale.

5. The Hour I First Believed - Wally Lamb - I just finished this about a month ago, so I'm not sure I can attest that it will stay with me forever based on experience, but based on passion, yeah. Pretty much. I love Wally Lamb and have waited for this book for a decade and it was better than anything that came before it. If you haven't read any of his work, please read them in the order in which they were written, because as fabulous as She's Come Undone is, it can't compare with The Hour. I am pretty much a character person. I can happily read 700 pages of plotlessness if it has really good characters. While this book manages an amazing and riveting plot, it's characters are the real appeal.

6. Another Roadside Attraction - Tom Robbins - I've read a lot of Tom Robbins and I love his work. This book, though, this book. I seldom have a discussion about religion without bringing this one up. It asks the question, what's important to you about your faith? What do you need to believe? And it does it while being funny enough to have a flea circus and a Vatican karate instructor.

7. Beloved - Toni Morrison - One semester I had to read this book for three different classes. Professors love this book and I love Toni Morrison. So, why is this one the best? I don't know. For me, it's the ghost story melded in with what is probably the most compelling discussion of race and hatred I've ever read. You can't help but turn the pages even though it hurts to keep reading.

8. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens - I know, I know, I hate Dickens, too. But I love Miss Havisham. Honestly, this book forever changed my opinion of Dickens. Being the shortest (and arguably best written) Dickens, I'm not sure how I went all the way to college without having read this one. It made me a believer, though. A believer that maybe Dickens was more than I thought. Maybe he was a product of his medium. Maybe his overly wordiness was a part of being paid by the word. Because someone who could make a character like Miss Havisham (you love to hate her, admit it) can NOT be a bad writer. I even briefly considered re-reading David Copperfield, but then I came down from my post-good-book high and laughed.

9. The Sparrow - Mary Doria Russell - Another great faith/SciFi mashup. And talk about your kick-ass characters. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll die when you realize there's a sequel.

10. Helter Skelter - Vincent Bugliosi - I believed for a long time that high schoolers (especially girls) should be required to read this. I've since begun to understand how hormones and crazy mix together. But seriously, even if you don't have a not-so-secret obsession with Manson and the Family, this is a great book. It focuses more on the trial and investigation than on the events (which are told in a rather clinical manner - which is good for the squeamish because this is some messed-up stuff) but what it really shows you is the psychologyof the family. Sure Manson was crazy, but what's fascinating isn't necessarily his whys or hows (although, wow, that's interesting, too) but why people followed him. Why people didn't see (and in some cases still don't) his insanity.

11. Trainspotting - Irvine Welsh - I give this book and movie credit for quite a few people in my generation giving heroine a wide berth. Although I still sometimes have nightmares about the dead baby on the ceiling scene in the movie, the book haunts me with something deeper. I can't explain what it is, pity is too shallow and understanding too wide, but suffice to say, I'll never look at addiction the same way.

12. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller - This book is like M*A*S*H* on crack. Anti-war at it's heart, but funny at it's core, you can't help but love the madness. This book is essentially about the insanity of war, but it's also about the insanity of life. Even if you've never been touched by the specific issues of war at play here, you can see yourself reflected in these characters who fight to survive, fight to live and fight to be seen.

13. The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch - by Phillip K. Dick - Dick is the master of my kind of SF. If you think you don't know his work, you are probably wrong. This is the mind that gave us Bladerunner (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep), Total Recall (We Can Remember it for You Wholesale), A Scanner Darkly, Paycheck and Minority Report (both short stories). The Three Stigmata is a product of the 60's in many ways and focuses on government sanctioned hallucinogenics, but it's more than that, too. Again (I am predictable) it intermingles faith and religion in the context of a fearful future. I love most of his work, but this is by far my favorite and one of those books you can't help but re-read.

14. Nueromancer - William Gibson - This is the book that is most often credited with having inspired The Matrix (which, really, it turns out ripped off so many other stories that it may just be original). Really, you could take the SF right out of this book and have a quite nice story of rejection and redemption. Which, is what makes for good SF: stories that use the context of the future or whatever to tell a plain old regular human story. Part of a loose trilogy, this book creates a sadly foreseeable future. A future that has already started coming true. Which is another hallmark of good SF: looking at the present and creating a compelling warning of the future.

15. Reading Lolita in Tehran - Azar Nafisi - There is a reason there isn't much non-fiction on this list. It's generally not my cup of tea, or particuarly memorable in my world. But this book could be fiction, it's so good. Really, I think what makes it so good is reading this story, this incredible story and knowing, really knowing, it's true. This story gave me a wider viewpoint on theocracy and really sharpened my knowledge of Iranian history. But it also showed me a universal truth: the written word will not be stopped. Books can not be banned, no matter how hard some will try. Literature is forever.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Is Today Friday, Really, Are You Sure?

I cannot begin to describe all the ways in which this week has been exhausting. I may not survive until Monday. I can't wait to get back to work to rest. Really. No one told me that family vacations could be this hard. And we didn't freakin' go anywhere. Just wail until our trek to Disney World. I may die. Of tiredness. One thing is for sure, no Disney until they both prove they can sleep through the night.

There are pictures, oh, how there are pictures. Pictures I am dying to share with you. Unfortunately, I left my card reader at work and I am not going back for it. No one can see my pictures without holding my camera in their hands until Monday. And that's final.

We walked. We carried a baby backpack, we pushed a stroller, we fought, we cried, we collapsed, we ate, we did everything imaginable and about 70% of it was fun. The other 30% involved screaming children or blood tests.

To add a little detail to this post, rather than leave it with the Family Vacation Version of A Tale of Two Cities, I'll share one tiny story from our adventures. I'll call it the "The Survey." (Yes, I know it's not very creative. Leave me alone. I haven't slept a normal night in a week.

The Survey
Wednesday night we went to the mall. I hate the mall. I loathe the mall. The mall is my nemesis. But, we've been to this mall a few times because of it's proximity to my mother in law's house, it's inclusion of the only Motherhood Maternity store in the state to carry women's sizes, and the fact that it has an Auntie Ann's. I love Auntie Ann's. It also has a Cinnabon and I can never decide which I want. I spend hours in the food court debating and debating.

Brynna loves this mall because it has a very cool play area. Really, for an unmanned area crawling with shoeless midgets, it's quite nice. It has a forest-y theme, with a big tree that you can get inside of and giant butterflies. My favorite part is a beaver dam that has a waterfall slide. It's weird, but weird in a James and the Giant Peach kind of way. So, as soon as Brynna found out that we were going to be in the proximity of what I will call the Y'all Mall, she about fell over herself. "Please let me go to the place with the tree where you can't wear you're shoes." I swear, mothers should get an award for every sentence like this that they successfully translate.

We went and my mother in law, bless her soul, sat in the play area on the parent benches and held Maren and watched Brynna while The Husband and I wandered aimlessly around the mall. We were on our way back when we were waylaid by a woman in all black. Whenever you see a woman in all black who does not appear to be goth in any way, she is either a restaurant hostess or a mall survey person. Since we were not in O'Charley's I tried very hard to avoid eye contact.

It's not that I don't like surveys. In fact, I love surveys. I never turn down a survey. I take online surveys and telephone surveys. That is, in fact, the only thing I regret about getting rid of my land line, no surveys. 911-Schmine-one-one. I miss my surveys. I loved ranking presidential performances and radio stations. I will do almost anything for a survey. Except take one in the mall. I don't know why but it gives me the creeps.

She was persistent, though, and stopped us even though we were both gazing obnoxiously into some gift shop full of Wizard of Oz dolls. She asked us if we would be interested in taking a short survey for cash. I said no. Money, money? I don't think so. If you plan on paying me, it's going to be horrible. Also, it's not for CNN.

Then she begged. I thought she might cry. She had been there all day and she just needed three more respondents and couldn't we please, please consider doing it. It would only take a few minutes. I didn't want to, but I'm a sucker. We took the stupid survey.

After about five minutes of standing in the middle of the mall, trying to count how many movies we've seen in the theatre in the past two months, six months and year. And trying to remember if we saw certain movies in the theatre or on DVD, we moved on to the polling place. The Husband was eliminated. They had enough men in their 30's. But not me, noooo. I had to keep on keeping on.

I was led into a tiny room and seated in front of a computer monitor. Then I was asked a series of questions about upcoming feature films. Had I heard of this movie? Did I like this actor? I was kind of enjoying myself because I am sort of into movies. I don't get to see as many as I did BK (before kids) but I am just waiting for them to graduate high school. Then I'll be at the theatre every single weekend. Maybe I just need to wait until they are old enough for social lives. In any case, I'll be there someday.

But then, the worst possible outcome happened. The questions started zeroing in. They were pointing to a specific movie. A movie I've seen previews for and cringed in horror over. A movie so awful, so terrible, so insulting to me as a human being: Bruno. I won't even dignify it with an umlaut and no, it's not just 'cause I don't know how to make one in blogger.

I hate everything that this movie stands for. I hate the exploitative manner in which it uses national theatres to mock people. Not even people really, stereotypes of people. I hate that it seeks, with every breath it's creator takes to make people feel inferior and to teach that the way to deal with that feeling is to make everyone else feel it more.

And there I sat, watching the previews for the movie over and over again. Ranking which scenes were most appealing. Trying to put into words my intense loathing (and watching the 17 year old surveyor spell exploiting exploding. Apparently the movie is explodative. Whatever that is.

This "few minutes" worth of survey must have taken at least a half hour. A half hour of misery. I believe I have seen roughly a quarter of the movie now, and all I can say is "I think I need a shower. For my brain."

But, I kept telling myself, "I'm getting paid. Don't walk out on this just because you feel your life slipping away from you. Just because you want to gouge your eyes from your head. You're getting money, sweetie. You can go buy yourself some shoes over there when this is all over. And shoes make everything better."

So, at the end, she asked me to wait in the lobby and she would bring me my payment. I went to the lobby and had a seat and started to prioritize my shoe shopping. I need sandals, but I could really use some new dress flats, too. I would like some summer tennies, because mine are looking pretty sad. What first, what first? And she brought me... are you ready for this... really, you should make sure you are seated... $2. That's right, folks, two dollars. Just like in Better Off Dead. All that fuss for $2.

Needless to say I do not have new shoes. My tennies still look sad, I still have flip flops but no sandals and my dress flats have about another month in them. I had to watch a series of previews for a movie that I would gnaw through my own wrist to escape and the whole experience left me feeling dirty and used.

Avoid those girls in black, friends. They are harbingers of doom.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Things

It's late and I'm tired. I have to get up very, very early in the morning to get the kids ready and the stuff packed up in the car and everyone fed and I really need to just give up for the night and go to bed. So, of course, I am hungry, very not tired and a little crazy. So, why not blog?

A few things you've missed in the last few days:

1. Maren had her six month check-up. She is, in fact, huge. 97% in weight and 95% in height. She had a slew of shots and my doctor commanded me to move her to a bigger car seat. Also, one of the nurses mistook her for a 12 month old. I am not kidding.

2. Brynna and I went to story time at the library last night. The theme for the summer reading program is Be Creative. So, after their story time, they went outside and colored with sidewalk chalk. Brynna made a sunset. Out of sidewalk chalk. It was spectacular. I took a picture. I'd give my eyeteeth to show it to you, but it's in my phone and I can't figure out how to get pictures out of my phone. Surely it came with a cable or something...

3. Last night, on the way home, "Janie's Got a Gun" came on the radio. (As a side note, we checked out a CD of Shel Siverstein reading his own poetry and Brynna was totally freaked out by people talking and not singing on the radio. So, we tried some kids CD's and she finally said, "Just put it on the thing where lots of people sing." The radio.) I grew up on that song a little and I never got it. Then, when I was about 17, I was washing my face after a play and singing it to myself, when it dawned on me. What it meant. What it was about. And I cried. All night long. It's not just that the whole thing is so bad. It's that I didn't really, until that moment, understand that things that bad really happen. It's funny, I was a horror movie kid. I saw every ghost story, slasher film, or possession movie I could get my hands on. I knew all about murder and psychosis, but I didn't understand about sexual abuse.

And I looked in the backseat at Brynna playing with the velvet poster I had bought her earlier. Brynna sitting there basking in her own innocence and not even knowing it. Brynna having no clue what Steven Tyler was singing about. And I wondered if she would have a similar moment. A moment when all the horrible things that people are capable of suddenly become reality. At the same time, I hope not and I hope so. I hope that she can live without that moment. That moment that will always haunt her, that will always feel like an open wound. But on the other hand, I had that moment because nothing really bad ever happened to me or to those that I loved. Oh, bad things have happened since, but I've been able to deal with them. I hope that she can live up until that moment without knowing what any of it is, without being stained by the evil of people. I hope that moment comes late in her life. At least late in her teens.

4. I think that probably could have been a blog post without the rest of this crap. Oh well, 20-20 hindsight.

5. Tomorrow the zoo. Wish me luck, strong legs and cool breezes.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Vacaysheeone

That's right. Today is my last day at work for a week!!! I know it doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but trust me, it is. I can't remember my last whole week vacation. Well, unless you count maternity leave which was eight weeks, but I don't. Any time you have to have major abdominal surgery and then try to haul around an infant, deal with crying jags and midnight feedings, you are not on vacation. You come back to work for the rest.

So, what are we doing, you ask. Where are we going? Disney World maybe? Nope. We are the Broke Family Robinson. We have a week of "local fun and flavor" planned.

Saturday - Work day at the church. About the polar opposite from vacation. But whatever.

Sunday - Church, lunch, library summer reading program kick off including magicians and face painting and stuff.

Monday - Dr. for Maren's six month check up. Lots of measuring and weighing and telling me my baby is freakin' huge. Which I already know. Then probably the park and other free stuff until story time at the library which is also free.

Tuesday - Brynna and I are getting haircuts. I don't know what else we'll do. We've discussed maybe seeing Up in 3-D, or going to the Explorium. Whatever's clever.

Wednesday - The Zoo!!!!!! Can you tell I love the zoo. I am a ridiculous fan of the zoo. I never outgrew the zoo. Which is weird because in theory, I am all: Zoo's bad. Taking animals out of habitat, bad. But in practice I'm all: Look! Look! It's a polar bear! I love polar bears. I want to hug it briefly and then scream whilst it tears off my head. Who will ride the merry-go-round with me?!?"

Thursday - The Aquarium!!! Possibly better than the zoo. The same kind of thrill, but with air conditioning. And sting rays. I love stingrays. Also, last I checked there was no petting at the zoo and you can totally pet some crustaceans at the aquarium. Also, maybe the mall. I hate the mall, but Bryn loves the play area there and she could use some new shoes since all of her summer shoes have already fallen apart.

Friday - Maybe pictures. We're going to do Maren's six month pictures along with some pictures of the two of them together and then probably some of Brynna just so I can have more control than I do with a school one. Also, maybe whatever we didn't do on Tuesday.

Saturday - Sleep. Probably not really. I bet that the kids won't sleep. I'll probably go to the grocery.

Sunday - Church, Lunch. Force the kids back to their normally scheduled bedtimes in an attempt to ensure that they are human at 7 Monday morning.

I'm telling you all this because, while I fully intend to blog next week, you should know that I probably won't get to every day. I'm especially thinking Weds. and Thurs. because of the fun animal viewing.

Hope you all have the best possible week. I'll see ya when I see ya.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Aaaag! My baby is 26 weeks old!

So, like most internet-addicted mothers I know, I receive a weekly update on milestones, practices, habits, etc. from about 79 sources. With Brynna, I read each and every one of them like an addict slurping down absinthe. (Is absinthe addictive?) On my second kid, now, I find myself less than interested. Since she is currently sprouting teeth and screaming like a banshee (I forgot about teething honestly. I remembered enough to shudder every time I heard the word, but I forgot the abject panic of baby in pain and there is NOTHING else I can do.) I read one the other day about calming teething anxiety. It turned out to be my anxiety, not hers, which I don't really need. I need a miracle that is safe for babies and completely anesthetic.


The teething face

Anyway, the point of all that rambling was that I don't read them. I don't even glance at them mostly. I only open the ones from Johnson's and Nestle and Gerber, scan them for coupons and then delete. But every once in a while something catches my eye.

There is, at this moment, a message in my email informing me that my baby is 26 weeks old. For those of you slow on the math, that's half a freakin' year. I have been making vague plans for 6 month pictures. (She has nothing to wear because she is in 12 month clothes. I don't have many 12 month clothes at this point.) She's going to turn 6 months, officially on our vacation next week. I have been mostly aware of this coming nonsense, but there is nothing like a black print subject line to say, "Time is getting away from you. You don't use the camera enough, you still don't have a single video of her and she's growing up, dammit, these days are numbered."

I knew time went faster when you had kids. I already had a kid. But I didn't know that the speed of time doubles with every child. I didn't know it would get worse. I didn't know that on her six month birthday I would still feel like I had only been back from maternity leave for about a week and a half.

Let's face it, by the time I get adjusted to her being able to sit up, she'll be in school.

Dear Maren,
Please forgive me for trying to change your diaper at your high school graduation. I remember, now that you are eighteen. It just seems like I just got this email that said that you were 26 weeks old. Did all of your teeth come in? Yes, I'm glad. Just wake me in time for your wedding, okay?
Love,
Mommy MaMa MumMum Mom

Monday, June 1, 2009

What's In My Crochet Bag

This week: more chemo hats!!



There are three in this picture. I, like ten seconds ago, figured out of fix the light meter on my point and click and these are at least twelve hours past clicking. The gray and white one you've seen, the pink one is my first attempt. (And no, I won't curse a poor chemo patient with it. I'll make Maren wear it. Because in addition to being really badly done, it's freakin' tiny.)



This is just the purple one. A little better, but still awfully dark. It has a band. I wanted you to see the band. Mostly I like the rolled edge better because I find it sort of hippie chic, but some nice church ladies reminded me that perhaps everyone does not like hippie chic. I was all ready to put a flower on it, but it was too big for The Husband. Since he has a pretty large head, I figured it would probably end up as a guy's hat and I don't have any patterns for something manly to stick on the brim, so I'm leaving it.



This is the one I'm working on right now. I love variegated yarn like this that has long patches of the color. It's like stripes without having to switch colors which is easy but for some reason I hate. With worsted weight yarn, you really need to do this with two strands, hence the solid. I like it though, because it makes the stripe more subtle. I can't wait to show you the finished product.

Soooo.... I was totally planning on distracting you from the fact that what's in my crochet bag this week, is essentially the same thing as last week by showing you pictures of my beautiful new cat, but since she spent the weekend hiding under the hutch and I have to hide to get her to eat, we'll be showing those in a few days/weeks/months. Whenever she decides to be sociable. So, instead, I thought I'd talk about my favorite yarn.

I love boutique yarn, handmade yarn, hand dyed yarn, whatever. Go to Etsy and search for yarn and you'll see the kind of stuff that gets drool on my keyboard. Unfortunately, I'm typically broke. So, most of my yarn comes from chain fabric stores, or *gasp* Wal-Mart. It's hard to find the good stuff, but I thought I would share some cool, happy economical yarn and why I like it.

For starters, scroll back up to that nearly invisible purple hat. That is one of my favorites I've ever bought. (I feel the need to interject here that I never keep yarn labels so I have no clue what any of these are, what their color names are or where I got them.) I bought this purple to make the world's softest scarf. It was fabulous, but it's kinda fuzzy, so I had to try it on three or four different patterns before I found one that really worked. I love this because it's solid, right? It's a deep dark purple, but if you look close you'll find a really red-purple, a royal blue, a sage green and a golden yellow. Hiding in there. There is nothing solid about this yarn. It's a big faker.



I love this stuff, too. I love this stuff so much, I may never make anything from it. I bought it for a specific project that had very, very bad instructions and was a train wreck. I'm not sure I'll ever find anything else worthy of it. I think this one is Lion something something. I like the texture. It's really thick yarn, which is always fun, but it's also got that twisty texture. It reminds me of the yarn-y stuff that we wore in our pigtails in the '80's.



I got this one on accident. I was looking for something in greens and browns for a beautiful green eyed girl and I got this. It was called Camo, but I figured that was like being called Pink Lemonade. You're not literally buying pink lemonade. This crochets up exactly like camo, though. I need a second skein of this because I want to make some chemo hats from it for the guys. I might make one with a hunter's orange flower on it, though, for the outdoorsy girls.



As you can tell, I'm a fan of the variegated. These are two of my favorites. The blue is the perfect example of something so mellow, so calm, you want to wallpaper with it. I love how this looks like ice, but somehow isn't cold, just deliciously cool. The rainbow (forgive the blurriness, this was after midnight, folks) is a symptom of never growing up. I have never gotten over my 16 year old desire to crochet something that looks like a rainbow. Although Brynna pointed out this has no purple, so it's not really a rainbow. I am going to get a skein of just purple and do a hat out of this, and then I'm going to do another one for Brynna. I'm old enough that rainbow berets would just look silly on me, but that's no reason not to stick one on my kid.



I don't know how well you can tell, but these are sparkly. I kinda went crazy for these a few years ago. Most cheap, sparkly yarn is kinda scratchy, but this is baby stuff and it's as soft as any other baby yarn I've ever bought. So, I made a bunch of baby afghans as gifts out of this. Both of those variegated have yellow, so I'm left with like three skeins of this yellow. I will never use all of that yellow, but I love the white, yellow and lavender.



I totally saved the best for last. I know this looks like plain, old ordinary pink yarn, but when it's all worked up, it feels and looks like terrycloth. Really, like a nice fuzzy towel. I made a hat for Maren out of it this past winter. It was my third project, and I am regretfully, almost out. This ball is tiny. I think I'm going to use the rest for a washcloth. Just because there is nothing else I could make out of an amount this tiny. A single bootie maybe.

So, I know that was wicked long, but trust me, it was abbreviated. There are at least ten more balls of yarn in that bag and they are just the leftovers. I truly love yarn and that is what I intend to do in my dotty old age, buy good yarn and make interesting things out of it. Hopefully by then, I'll never again have to stand in the tiny short yarn aisle at Wal-Mart trying to figure out if there are any two skeins here that coordinate.