Moving week

We're moving this week. I thought I'd liveblog.


10:11: It's barely ten in the morning, and I want to quit. Can I go back to bed?

11:00: Taking down our bedroom curtains. The only thing left on the walls are the miniblinds, which stay with the house, and a starburst clock. My walls are lonely and I do not approve.

11:15: Start the girls making birthday cards for Grandma. We are all about colored pencils and stickers today. I regret that I packed her present instead of mailing it back in June, but it's gone now. Quickly, while the girls are preoccupied, I toss or pack the baby silverware that they totally don't need to use.

11:30: Encouraging email from friend, and more emails, also potentially encouraging but which require decisions on my part. I put off answering them because I don't know the answers.

12:09: "Why are there Cleopatra and dinosaurs?" I ask. Meg answers, "The dinosaurs are the audience." True enough, and Cleopatra is part of the band. This is apparently completely normal for Peg+Cat world. I go back to fixing grilled cheese.

12:45: I explain to Meg that she can't use "stupid" because it's a word that carries a cloud of other meanings around with it, and she can't use it properly until she's old enough to understand all the other meanings too. I add there are other words like that too. Like "dang it," she asks? Yes. Exactly like "dang it."

1:31: Have a deep urge to gold-leaf the top ring on all my terra cotta flower pots. I resist, not least because I don't have any gold leaf. I put Kate down for her nap instead.

1:43 While sorting laundry and rummaging for lip gloss, I found my long-lost good tweezers. That's exciting.

2:18 I went downstairs to put in a load of laundry and found myself dusting and sweeping the back half of the basement.

3:44 Fell down a Pinterest rabbit hole, devised a scheme for reupholstering four ottomans in pink tweed with gold nail-head trim, changed out the laundry, and finished sweeping the basement. It's ready for mopping. Meanwhile, I'm going to start the packing and cleaning list for Thursday.

4:28: Finished the cleaning list, got Kate up from her nap, and got Meg out from her bath. Put on oldies and started doing dishes.

6:15: Discovered tomorrow is Cow Appreciation Day at Chick-fil-A, so made two sets of cow ears out of construction paper.

6:58: Dinner.

7:30, sharp: Kate to bed.

8:30: Kate up, requiring fresh linens and stories.

8:45: I finally begin my after dinner work. 

Vegetables are hard

We're about to move, so I sat down one day, made a list of all the main-dish-ish food in the house, and made a meal plan to eat through it. We had two weeks' worth of meals -- two weeks! -- and sadly, that was a week and a half ago. So while I've dropped by the store for milk and eggs and bread and fruit, we're kind of reaching the point where I'm all, "spaghetti sauce counts as a vegetable, right?" (In my defense, my sauce starts with "open a three-pound can of crushed tomatoes." So maybe it really does.)

We were going to have calabacitas last night with our enchiladas, but my last zucchini was a squashy mess. It wasn't quite a puddle, but it was getting there. Alas. A cucumber just isn't the same.

Also, Target has the weirdest pricing on groceries. Today, they had Rainier cherries for $4/lb, which is the cheapest I've ever seen them anywhere, and zucchini for 3.19/lb. Over $3, in JULY. I swear. I didn't buy any.

Picking Up

Oh, the explanations you have to make sometimes...
"All right, Kate, I need you to put all the Octonauts back in their bin, but not dinosaurs, Darth Vader, bats, or dragons."

Kate's pizza

While Meg and I were crafting at the table, Kate wandered along and pulled out the felt pizza with its zillion felt pieces. She chattered to herself as she arranged the slices, and I think I heard the word "cheese." I glanced at her mess; that was fine. We'd pick it up later.

I looked again and she had put all the pizza back in the box.

She's not even two yet. !!!

Empty like a worm

I spent the day packing and cleaning.

"I want you to admire the vast emptiness that is in the craft room," I informed Jonathan.
Meg piped up, "It's empty like a worm!"

Jonathan and I looked at each other, nonplussed.

"I don't know what to say to that," I said.
Jonathan asserted, "No, it's empty in a way that worm is not."
"Then how IS a worm empty?" said Meg.

"I know very little about how a worm is empty. My knowledge of worm emptiness is purely that of the via negativa. 'I thought it best to warn you, my dear Theophilous, not to empty your soul in the way that a worm is empty.'" said Jonathan.

Meg decided that made sense, or possibly no sense, and took a different tack. "You're right. A worm doesn't have scraps of paper or a door in it. Or a lamp or Bismarck in it. Also, the worm is not empty forever!"

Poem of the day: My Shadow

We were talking about that time Hook stole Peter Pan's shadow, which reminded me of the Robert Louis Stevenson poem about the little boy's shadow. I mentioned it to Meg, and rather to my surprise she wanted to hear it. 

My Shadow by Robert Louis Stevenson
From Child's Garden of Verses

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

And she liked it! It made her laugh and everything. Poetry win.

Sending a spider to a better place

"Well, I don't blame the spider for wanting to live in our nice house, but I'm not going to let him." Me
"That's right! Go find a haunted house to live in! Or, a broken-up tower with bats and --- and creatures of the night. Creatures of the night INCLUUUUUUDING insects! That way they'll be eaten up and won't be a bother." Meg

Cultural reference

Me: "Yes, you may drink with that straw, if you take the paper off first."
Meg, indignantly: "I always take the paper off. Every day when I drink with a straw."
Jonathan: "I don't always drink with a straw, but when I do, I take the paper off first. Stay thirsty, my friends."
Meg: "Uh-uh-uh! I'm not telling my friends that!"

Jonathan: "You have a very mild abrasion on the tip of your elbow."
Meg: "I WANNA LOOK!" Pause. "I'll go look in the mirror!"

Pleased to report the rum is not gone

The cocktail shaker was hiding this evening.
"It's there, behind the Winnie the Pooh cup. ...I did not do that on purpose. And the rum is behind the graham crackers."

The moral of the story: call the Gungans for your underwater battle needs

Jonathan was reading one of those beginner-reader Star Wars books with Meg. The scenario was an underwater battle on Mon Calamari, and the plot... well, it pained him. We in our house do not suffer quietly. So I started liveblogging.

"If you're fighting underwater, USE BOMBS. Carolyn, they're using blasters and spears! Sometimes that's fine, for close quarters. But when you're not fighting hand-to-hand, you should break out the artillery and have fun. I'M JUST SAYING. ...I'm sorry kids, not only did you get flanked by 3 mph jellyfish, you're being surprised from above. By mining rigs. Have you heard of sonar? 'But it gets worse!' Really?"

"So apparently the big bad guy has these cyborg jellyfish. Electrified cyborg jellyfish. But the electrified cyborg jellyfish are too powerful, so they have to ask advice from Yoda and Mace Windu. These are the tactical golden boys behind such tactical maneuvers as, oh look, it's a giant plain filled with robots. Let's land and fight them with hand to hand combat, instead of, say, shooting them from space with our armada.

"So they come up with a plan. Let's call the Gungans! The Gungans are in fact an aquatic species, so this is actually good advice. And surprisingly the Gungans, unlike the elite Mon Calamari, actually have weapons that can make the jellyfish explode. And they use them. I am professionally chagrined."

"But apparently they can't fight as well as the Gungans, so I don't know what they're doing with their lives."

"'But Padme gets a crack in her helmet! Anakin tries to use the force to keep water from dribbling in.' Good luck, you're up against another force: PSI. 'But the electric eels keep jostling him and he loses concentration!'"

"Okay, there's TWO SPECIES on Mon Calamari. How did they not check the bite marks and say, "The king was killed by a shark. A giant shark." What, do they not do marine biology? So he throws a grenade at him that doesn't explode. ON PURPOSE. Wait, where did he get explosives? Did he borrow them from the Gungans? Did Jar-Jar teach you how to fight??"

"'But he couldn't have done it without Captain Ackbar,' -- who didn't do much -- 'the Jedi,' -- who also didn't do much -- 'and the Gungans' -- who did basically everything!"

Upon which Meg asked for something, possibly another book. "No, Daddy just finished reading you a book with more commentary--"
"Than text," I added helpfully.
"No," Jonathan said, "I was going to say more commentary than you get usually."