If the Obamas Call Again, Tell Them I'm Not Home

Lately every time I press the button on the answering machine, it spouts the voice of an Obama or two. It's actually kind of a nice change from whatever creditor has been trying to chase down Ebony Hutchinson and her multiple aliases for the past two years.

Aside from being stalked by the Obamas, mostly this week has been school work and work and trying to get My Boy's bar mitzvah together.

My Sweet Pea has been back in the clutches of asthma. For the same reason that I would have a problem signing my kids up for a daycare that had an intentional misspelling in the name, I'd have a hard time entrusting any of our health to these people:

Needless to say that's not where we went. We were lucky enough to go to her regular pediatrician.

Lest you think I'm a total stick in the mud, I didn't mind being greeted by this guy when we got there:

In other news, for safety's sake I've almost completely stopped talking on the cell phone while driving. It's way too difficult to hold the phone AND take pictures out the window at the same time. One of them had to go, and it really couldn't be the camera, now could it?



Hope everyone's had a great week!

Dinner was great, but what was it I was supposed to do with my toilet paper?

In case you're wondering, this sign doesn't make any more sense in Spanish than it does in English:The really confusing thing is, there's no similar sign in the women's room.

How DO you thrive for excellence? And is there also a club for people who want to learn how to thrive for it?A coworker almost forwarded me my own blog. She thought I would like it because "Hey look! Someone else likes that Vampire Weekend stuff!" She was about to send it along to me when she got to the wedding photos and figured out it was mine. I guess ole' Walt was right after all - it is a small world.

Speaking of Vampire Weekend, Older Gal was turned away by security. She wasn't allowed to bring her mechanical pencil into the concert. On the other hand, I waltzed in with this, as usual:I can't even say how many times I've accidentally gone through airport security with it in my purse.

My classes start back up again in about an hour. Time flies when you're having fun. Or when you're ruminating. Actually, it seems to fly no matter what. Goodbye thirty seven seconds of free time I had per week! I'll miss you!

My First Ever Post With Sports In It. Ever.

When I get tired of sitting around and looking cute at home, I have to sit around and look cute somewhere else. Anderson Fair is always a nice change, especially if Michael Fracasso is playing.If you're into one-guy-with-one-guitar-singing-thoughtful-poetic-stuff, you SO should have been there. I know you weren't, because only about ten people were there, and you weren't one of them (unless you happen to be my cousin Bernard). But don't worry! He'll be back in February!

I sat around and looked cute at a Houston Texans game. We even won, which, if you're a Houston sports fan you know is totally and completely unexpected (no matter who we're playing).Getting there required sitting around and looking cute on the light rail.There was some walking involved too, actually.

The-Guy and I saw a horse in the center of downtown Houston, right near the tracks:Did you see him? He's at the far edge on the right:When I get tired altogether of sitting around and looking cute, sometimes I have to bake something. This is full of broccoli: It's not usually that phallic looking, but I made this one for a party. I thought skinny would be better for a party bread.

That was my weekend! Next weekend my classes start back up, so I'll be attempting to write papers while looking cute. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.

Mostly, I Just Sit Around and Look Cute

We had a few friends over recently and they asked about quite a bit of stuff that tends to escape me. We had conversations like this:

Friend - "So have you had the air conditioner off the past few weeks now?"
Me - "I'm not really sure. I don't really do the thermostat. The-Guy's in charge of all that."

And I had this conversation with another friend:

Friend - "Come show me how to use your coffee maker!"
Me (following her enthusiastically, as if I might actually be of some assistance) - "I know we have to press a lot of buttons. I don't really know how, actually. If The-Guy's not home, I just drink coffee at work."

And then there was this conversation:

Friend - "This friend of mine said it's really expensive to heat her pool. She says it costs her like $200 every time she does it."
Me - (blank look)
Friend - "But maybe you have a different kind of heater?"
Me - "I didn't even know we HAD a pool heater until my boy told me today."

In my defense, I was fine and good with apartment living, where lots and lots of life-spackle happens magically and without thought. It was The-Guy who thought that perhaps five people and two cats might not live entirely harmoniously in a two bedroom apartment.

And I do some stuff. I cook dinner MOST week nights. It also tends to fall to me to plan the attack against the vast amounts of paper that infiltrate our house via US Mail, children's backpacks and the like.

Far be it from me to actually GROW anything in any of The-Guy's beautiful and prolific gardens, but I do cook some of the stuff he grows.

I also take pictures of the non-food items:


I play taxi in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings. I do a lot of the scheduling.

I've fixed a toilet or two and I picked out the color paint for the bathroom. And I did paint our living room green. But mostly, I just sit around and look cute. Apparently.

I was finally the cool mom for once in my cotton pickin' life! Or maybe I was just the dorky mom. Whichever. I still got to see Vampire Weekend.

Here's my gal the younger, all set to go see her umpteenth concert, but the first one she had ever successfully petitioned for on her own behalf:Unlike Michael Franti, Vampire Weekend did not demand a great deal of enthusiasm (earned or unearned). Although they did mention that it looked rather pleasant from the stage when the audience waved their arms in the air:In any case, this time I wore shoes much more conducive to expressing enthusiasm. Although it was kind of scary jumping around way up there in the balcony like that.My gal was very, very happy. I think both my gals and my gal's friend was happy. Besides for the staying up late on a school night thing, I was very happy. And that was everyone that went. It was fun, fun, fun!

My original title talked about the devil being in the details. But last time I sold Older Gal's soul on ebay things didn't go well. So I changed it.

What can I say about a week in which I lost almost all my work on my master's, but I got to see Michael Franti and Spearhead in concert? It was an eventful week, but boring unless you happen to be me.

We went to services for Simchat Torah.
My gal went on her first plane flight alone, but as usual refused me a picture:My boy and I saw turtles...or maybe that was last week...it can be hard to tell these days...The cat had a nap, the boy read a book: The cat ate some roses:
The-Guy and I saw Michael Franti and Spearhead. Michael Franti's frequent demands for enthusiasm irritated The-Guy more than it irritated me. I wished I had worn shoes more conducive to jumping up and down, which was how he requested this enthusiasm be expressed. That and arm waving. But we enjoyed it. I enjoyed it a lot.
Through it all, I have been attempting to throw together a bar mitzvah for my boy and recover my lost schoolwork. So them's the breaks this week.

Brought to you by Twipply Skwood, the bipolar downswing edition.