A denial, a denial, a denial, a denial...

I remember senior year in high school, hanging out in my friend Eric's car during lunch, with the seats fully reclined and Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" cranked on the stereo. That song, and a few others from the grunge era, grabbed me by the ears and spoke directly to my poor, dark, misunderstood soul. My reaction to them was visceral and pure. My devotion to the ideology and the boots, sincere.

Fifteen years later, I'm lying on my couch (in a fabulous pair of boots) watching a half-hour documentary about the making of that video. How it was the death knell for 80's hair bands and the voice of the disenfranchised Generation X. Dave Grohl, Crist Novoselic and the guy who made the video reminisced about Kurt and the anger and passion he brought to the soundstage.

Finally, after much platitudenizing and deep searching of navels, they played the video. I lay back on the couch and tried to recapture the thrill, the throb of a song that was once the soundtrack of my world.

The Bear toddled into the room, watched the TV for a few seconds and pogoed (if forced to choose between music and animals, the Bear's head would probably just explode from the stress. Musical animals, now that's what Santa needs to bring!) then came up to me and handed me two inches of masticated banana. I handed it back and he shoved it in his mouth, creating fake banana teeth and growling (like a Bear).

I looked at the TV screen, then looked at my not-so-baby boy, his face a pastiche of potassium-rich sludge. I tried to imagine how this scene would play to my 18-year-old self and drew a blank.

Then I got off the couch and changed the TV to Cartoon Network. I've got better things to do with my time now.

Seriously, I should NOT be allowed to write titles...

I know, I know... I haven't posted in... months. After yet another extravagant promise to get back to the blogging. I'm a terrible liar (and the Blogger editor thinks that both "blogging" and "Blogger" are incorrectly spelled words -- now that's amusing).

To be sure, I've actually been busy, rather than wallowing in the depths of despair. Buddy's entree into the world of edumacation has been rocky and requiring a great deal of at-home support, for which I should be canonized. A month in, his teacher was declaring she was positive he would wind up being retained. However, with a great deal of reinforcement on my part and sheer herculean effort of will on Buddy's part, he has improved substantially and, at last week's parent-teacher conference, his teacher pretty much ate her words.

The Bear, who will be two in exactly one month's time, doesn't talk much (although he has the essentials down: "Yes", "No" and "Shut up!") but the other day, in the parking lot of Super Wal*Mart Almighty, he started singing "Charlie" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, clear as day.

I was pulling out onto a busy road some time ago, and realized that Buddy, usually a conscientious wearer of the seat belt, was unbuckled. I read him the riot act, then demanded, "Why on earth have did you not get your seatbelt on?"

And he replied, "I was busy pretending I could see with my nose."

And for further evidence that he should be apprenticed to Neil Gaiman forthwith, I submit to you my two favorite pages of a book he illustrated and dictated to me. (The final pages involve his resurrection at the hands of a kindly witch and his Mom's exultation over the return of her beloved son, so, no worries.)






























I absolutely adore my kids. Here's an unsurprising thing, though. I finally uploaded some photos to Flickr, and included this:















Which I foolishly entitled "Underwear Model", because he looks like a model, and yet you can see his Power Rangers underwear (obviously).

24 hours later, all of the items in my Flickr group had precisely 0 views, except that one, which had 17.

If your wondering what He Who Looks Hot in Jeans has been up to lately, well, he's been baiting liberals, thank you very much. I read the thread and had a few remarks to make about his tone, so he let me edit his parting shot. Anyway, guess which commenter I'm lucky enough to be married to and I'll link your site.

Sorry for the utter ramble, but I finally got Hot-in-Jeans out of town for awhile (hunting trip, surprised?) and got his computer (read: the one that works) to myself, so maybe I'll post again over the next days to continue the catch-up. Hell, Doxie's gone quiet again, so why not stop by and give me a read? If she's not posting, I'm the next best thing -- 20,000+ visitors at the long-defunct Mean Teacher can't possibly be wrong.

I am such a liar.

Crawling back to civilization

Maybe I'm on somebody's blogroll and they'll see the update and come and visit...

Hahahahaha. Anyway.

Dear blog,

I haven't missed you one little bit. But I need to get back to writing and to human interaction. In the year 2007, updating one's blog may be an important part of that.

I wasn't kidding that the infamous Wagon Scene in Zelda: Twilight Princess consumed my attention and soul for actual weeks, but I must confess even more distracting and frustrating events were going on as well.

The big problem was that I was summarily reassigned at work to go teach at the very worst school in the city. Now, I can handle teaching at a tough school, I've been doing it almost my entire career, but it's not my job anymore. I left the classroom. On purpose. So to be told to go back, and to go back to a school that has so many issues, and to pick up the pieces from a fired teacher who had done such an appallingly bad job...

Well, it pissed me off at first. But I was philosophical about it.

Then I went and did the job, and that thin veneer of good attitude was pretty much demolished by the end of 3rd period on the first day. I won't dwell, but suffice it to say, my job was the part of my life that was going well, and when this shitstorm came down the line and made all aspects of my life desperately sucky, I spiraled into a depression, stopped calling friends or checking e-mail...

Finally the school year ended and I was released back to my "real" job, which I'd been away from so long I couldn't figure out what to do with myself once back at the cubicle. Fortunately, I had a trip to New Mexico (for my grandparents' memorial service and attendant family reunion) to look forward to at the end of June. Ultimately, I was so wiped by the preceding experience, that I took a week off sick before I left on vacation.

That helped. And getting back into the swing of things at work and another weeklong beach vacation in the beginning of August also did wonders.

Meanwhile, I refinanced the house, as the ARM we were stupid enough to get into was an ever-increasing source of disastrous friction between the husband and myself and that helped a lot of things at home. It's sad to say on your way to the beach, "Hey, maybe this year's trip will be even better because you will be speaking to me this time!" It also turns out to be true.

Buddy starts kindergarten in a matter of days. Thank God I got all the other crap dealt with because there's enough stress in this operation to age me twenty years.

So, thats the short version. How's everyone doing?

The above picture is of my two boys exploring White Sands.

Oh, and? I'm applying to law school.

If you need me, I'll be on the Hyrule fields...

... trying to cut my way through goblins and vengeful bomb-dropping birds as I escort a wagon with my amnesiac true love, some fat bar strumpet, and a sick mer-child in whose life rests the entire fate of the world.

As you can see, I, like apparently all other players of the Wii game Zelda: Twilight Princess, am stuck on a particularly vicious bit of gaming code and have little time to spare for blogging, eating or doing my taxes. Twilight Princess is such a fantasmagorically fun game and the Nintendo Wii is such a brilliant game platform that it has managed to suck in even me. And I hate video games.

I'm beginning to work up a healthy dislike for this game in particular. And He Who Looks Hot in Jeans is waaaaayy behind me (he's distracted by trying to win Olympic gold for the Canadian hockey team on the X-box 360), so I can't make him help me until after he's defeated the Fiery Wagon Ride of Carpal Doom himself. Which, if the forums (fora?) are any indication, he may never do either.

Meanwhile, my job sucks and I'm broke and I'm seriously considering firing my babysitter, despite the fact that I don't think I've got any other valid options for child care. Since I've sworn not to use this blog as a platform for bitching, I guess I'll just have to go one maintaining air silence. As I said, if anyone needs me, I'll be on Hyrule field, chasing that damn bimbo and her burning wagon around and around in circles.

Send bomb arrows. And a fire extinguisher.

It's like a medieval Kim Possible, only it's totally not...

I live under a pretty hefty rock, so I don't know if I'm ahead of or behind the curve on this one, but people, you have just got to go get the kids and watch Jane and the Dragon.

An obscure DirectTV channel called Ion carries VeggieTales and 3-2-1 Penguins! on a Friday afternoon network called Qubo, also available on our NBC affiliate on Saturday mornings. After the lovable Christian comestibles ran their credits, this new CGI confection came on, and I was immediately hooked. So were the rest of the Dungeons and Dragons dorks lounging around my living room getting a head start on their Friday night buzz. Buddy likes it well enough, but I bet he'll enjoy it more when he's older (he needs more explosions right now).

Anyway, things that are right about Jane and the Dragon:

• It takes place in a medieval castle, in an era of chivalry and, of course, dragons. As far as I'm concerned, every TV show, movie and book should have a similar setting. Even the ones about WWII.
• It's about Jane, a girl who wants to be a knight.
• It's made by Weta, who are singlehandedly responsible for everything that is awesome in my DVD collection so far.
• The CGI animation is well-done, but that's not a major accomplishment anymore. What is remarkable is the beautiful and extremely original styling of the animation: the colors are soft, and the backdrops look as if they've been drawn with colored pencils, and the character modeling is very appealing. Jane's hair is especially fun. Dragon's motion controls are genius, the giant reptile slithers over the walls of the castle like a skink.
• The stories are good and include a compelling moral for the kiddies -- and it's not too simplistic, there's room for discussion at the dinner table

A word to the wise, however: last Sunday I watched The Chronicles of Riddick and the Oscars, and I thought both were fantastic, so clearly I have absolutely no taste.

Happy Birthday Buddy! Villanelles are HARD!

In honor of Buddy's 5th birthday, which is TODAY, I shall now inflict upon you a villanelle, intended to describe the circumstances of his introduction into our family (we were doing summer work in the Alaskan bush, the pregnancy was most unexpected, and Buddy's eyes are deep blue with gold flecks: how could you NOT write a poem?).

If you feel it is a sodden piece of belabored crap, try to remember, villanelles are incredibly HARD, and the fact that it is WRITTEN and that it is actually a villanelle is so freakin' AMAZING that there is no need to expend further effort to judge the actual quality of the actual words.

So, with no further excuses:

I left the flakes of gold on the riverbed
Believing I'd return to find them there.
I find my treasure in your eyes instead.

The prospectors are a hundred years dead,
Deeding the gold to caribou and bear.
I left the flakes of gold on the river bed.

Named for, "Good news, it's a boy!" so they said.
Had the same "good news" so I got out of there.
I find my treasure in your eyes instead.

A vacant vale that Good News River fed
With salmon, gold and quiet like nowhere.
I left the flakes of gold on the river bed,

A new frontier beckoned with thrilling dread,
Infinite risks, prizes beyond compare:
I find my treasure in your eyes instead.

No vista bests your life stretched out ahead,
I'd give up more to have your world to share.
I left the flakes of gold on the river bed --
I find my treasure in your eyes instead.




Don't worry, he also got a Wii.

Better than being beaten, stoned and finally beheaded...*

Note to parents considering placing their kids in pre-school:
How's your self-confidence? 'Cause there's nothing like a pre-school event -- Valentine's Day springs to mind here -- to let you know exactly how much you suck as a parent.

I thought I was the fo-shizzle, as it were, having purchased cards well in advance, and having even got cool Nerds candy cards for Buddy, with tiny boxes of candy that popped cunningly into the cards (tape and die punch not included).

Buddy came home with a bag full of cards that included candy, but worse than that, several of the candy cards were hand made, incorporating the candy packets into clever little animal designs. This is because I suck.

Also, I forgot to put together any cards for his teachers. Perhaps they did not suffer for lack of Nerds, but it's the thoughtlessness that counts.

I didn't go so all-out with Bear's cards, simply getting him a pack of Pixar-related cards with neither bells nor whistles. I had theorized that a roomful of pre-two-year-olds would not give much of a crap about Valentines. When I set down to address all the cards, I couldn't find a class list for him anywhere. Again, going with my madcap what-does-an-eighteen-month-old-want- with-a-Valentine? theory, I put Bear's name on a fistful of cards, stuck 'em in a baggy with a self-deprecating note to his teacher, and moved on with my life.

When did I locate the neatly labeled and completed list of his classmates? If you guessed "three blocks away from the school, after I dropped them off" you win the enchilada. Running Appallingly Late has been a major theme of mine lately, so all I had left to do was drive on to work in a steaming puddle of shame and humiliation.

He Who Looks Hot in Jeans got me an iPod as his token of Valentinian affection. I'm sure I'll get exactly zero sympathy from all none of you who read, but I simply cannot break him of the notion that "expensive"="awesome". I like the iPod, it's blue and shiny and tiny, but I'm going to have to commit to actual lifestyle changes before I find a use for the darn thing.

(I just spent the last forty-five minutes trying to upload my songs and calling innocent software some very ugly names.)

I got my man a cherry tree and a comforter and I fed him salmon for dinner. I'm enjoying the comforter as much as he's enjoying my iPod. If that's not love, what is?

*St. Valentine apparently got hisself martyred in this extensive fashion.