CoverGirl Outlast was created for women like me

Things I had completely forgotten that I cannot do when wearing "regular" lipstick:

* Eat
* Drink
* Wear white shirts, because I will inevitably do something that somehow gets lipstick on it
* Suck sour-cream-and-onion potato chip crumbs off my finger without looking like I just chopped that finger off
* Take off lipstick without looking like a four-year-old who has been guzzling Kool-Aid, so that I can stop swearing like a pirate because all of these things have happened within the last ten minutes.

I totally heart CoverGirl Outlast, foreverandeveramen. mk

p.s. Even when my daughter sneaks into my pocketbook when she's 2 years old and does this:
















As well as "painting" her closet door with it, the marks of which are still there.

Isn't She a Little Old For This?

Kira cut a chunk of hair off yesterday. I have been unable to determine a real reason 'why.' She cut off about eight inches, and this chunk hangs down by her ear. When her hair is down, it's not *too* noticeable, but when I put her hair up in a ponytail (like I had to for baseball last night), it is. Although it *kinda* looked like maybe a piece of bangs growing out. Maybe? Kinda?

I'm gonna give it a couple of days for my heartbeat to level out to normal before I determine if I really have to cut her hair off to chin-level to even it out. I'm thinking I *might* be able to get away with it for awhile without cutting. Maybe. Or I might just be fooling myself because I am absolutely unreasonable when it comes to Kira's hair. I am incapable of getting the thought "It's just hair; it'll grow back" to sink into my brain. Her hair is so gorgeous (in my humble....ok, in my TOTALLY BIASED opinion), that it literally hurts my heart to think about this.

Maybe I'll just braid that piece into a wrap. I used to do that to my hair all the time in college. That might make it liveable for me. hmmm. Something to consider. mk

Love Little Towns

So, my doorbell rings this morning while the kids are getting ready to go wait for the bus. (the doorbell ringing is in itself a rarity. Really, I'm not sure why I installed one. I get, on average, about three unexpected visitors a year.) And it's Mary and her stepson Sam. (Mary's husband is Mark's Little League coach.) Her Beetle just *stopped* on the corner of my road. She was on her way to take Sam to the dentist.

So, my kids hop on the bus while we are trying to fix Mary up. (and I hobble quickly upstairs to get dressed, because of course, I was in my jammies.) First, she calls the dentist's office to tell them Sam's not coming. Then I take Sam to school (he wasn't even late) while she is tracking down someone to help her fix the car. She thinks she needs a jump. She called a local mechanic's shop, but they don't have roadside. The roadside company they recommend are backed up doing tows for the police. The roadside company she has for her *other* vehicle doesn't do Beetles. She gets the owner of a small store down the road (a friend of hers) to come over to help her out. (oh, and the dentist's office calls to find out where Sam was...turns out she called the wrong dentist's office. There are two offices located right next to each other.) And Edwin's trying to jump the car (which involved taking out the entire back seat to get to the battery--fortunately she has a convertible), and it's not working, and that's when he noticed....

The car was out of gas.

And neither of them have a gas can, but fortunately I do, and it has juuuuuust enough gas in it to get her to his store, where she could fill up. And she filled my gas can back up (with actually more than it started with, the sweetheart), and all is well, only an hour of the day spent in total embarrassment for her.

So, to ease her mind, I told her about the time I spent four days cooking in the dark. 'Cause we all have our idiot moments, and these usually occur in front of many other people.

But the great thing about small towns is that there are always people around to help you out. Today I got to be one of the helpers. Love that feeling. mk

*************
2:30pm postscript: Just got finished planting a trio of beautiful Navona Asiatic Lilies that were delivered about a half-hour ago with a note: "Thanks. I appreciate your help this morning! Mary & Sam"

Isn't that the nicest thing? I was floored. mk

Another Confirmation That I Am a Geek

Like we needed more.

Here is a shirt that I painted this weekend. The original plan was to wear it to the Star Wars Celebration at the Camden Public Library, but that was postponed to a later (undetermined) date, because one of the 501st stormtroopers had a family member shot in Iraq. **

So anyway, my shirt:













The kids want me to paint in the "Darth" part also, but I really like it the way it is. Actually, I kinda wish I hadn't painted in the "Mom" (it's silver, not white like it looks here)....but, c'est la vie. mk

**It occurs to me that I never actually wrote about this. Local library was going to have a Star Wars celebration to honor the 30th anniversary of the movie. The 501st Garrison Stormtrooper Club was going to be there. Really, go check them out, they are kickass. I think (ok, I KNOW) that I was more excited about seeing these guys than the kids were. mk

Stupid Ways I Have Injured Myself

OK, so Jenny over at MamaDrama has asked her readers to reveal a stupid and/or embarrassing way in which "you" or "someone you know" has been injured. Her example is when she herniated a disc brushing her hair. :D

Anyway, because my list of stupid injuries is so long, rather than completely commandeer her entire comment section, I'm just writing my own entry here and will reference it to her. (hey, and maybe actually get two or three other people to read my blog! bwahahahahahaaaaa)

* Current injury: torn ligament in ankle from stepping in rut in driveway, while conscientiously avoiding injury from the incredibly steep banking of gravel and soft dirt.

* Injury two days prior to that: threw neck out...um...waking up. Unsure of how it occurred, but woke up and could not move neck. This happens periodically.

* Other stupid neck injury: threw neck out turning on the shower. This was at college. My parents ended up having to come get me, bringing a neck brace with them.

* This wasn't mine, but it's such a spectacular injury I have to include it: girl down the hall at my dorm borrowed my SuperGlue to fix the sole of her shoe. In piercing the SuperGlue with a tack to unstick the opening, SuperGlue then squirted out of the container, hitting her in the open eye. Reflexively, she blinked. And in that time, the SuperGlue bonded her eyelid to her contact lens and her contact to her cornea. Major panic ensued. Surgery required. Shoe never fixed. SuperGlue never returned.

* Back to me. Permanent knee damage caused by ripping something in my knee while hiking in Alaska. While this sounds all cool and impressive, the part I usually leave out is that I was actually just running back down the path to the car. And tripped. [Never went to the doctor for it. (just out of college, uninsured & unemployed is my excuse for that one, although it seems to be a habit of mine not to go to the doctor for things that I probably should.) ]

* Permanent damage caused when I managed to sprain BOTH ankles at the same time while in high school. "Friends" trying to teach me how to cross-country ski. "Friends'" definition of teaching consisted of putting me on skis, giving me a push and saying "Go." And I went. Down a hill. And the snow was icy. And at the bottom of the small hill was the very much brick school building. And if I did not stop I would collide with it. And I didn't know *how* to stop. So I fell. And sprained both ankles at the same time. And did not go to the doctor. I stayed home for a day, borrowed some crutches from someone, and went back to school. And the thing about crutches is that you really have to have a leg to stand on. So I picked the ankle that hurt the least. And walked on it until it was screaming. And then switched ankles. And did that back and forth all day. And stayed home the next three days (well, it was over a weekend). And then went back to school *without* crutches. Figuring "it won't get better if you don't walk on it." And have regretted this asinine decision ever since.

* On the subject of stupid sports injuries, when I was playing peewee basketball, I was supposed to take the ball out from the sidelines. Well, I was in the wrong spot, and decided to cross behind the portable hoop that we used because the permanent hoops wouldn't lower enough for us. And didn't notice the cross-brace that was keeping that hoop up. And tripped over it. And knocked myself completely unconscious.

* While running cross-country, after a meet I was running across to see some people and didn't notice the rope that was strung around the track, and...you guessed it....tripped over it. And scraped my face all to hell.

* In college, during a snowball fight, a couple of guys came up behind me and did that one-person-gets-down-on-their-knees-behind-the-unsuspecting-victim-while-the-other-one-pushes
thing, and I fell over as planned. NOT as planned, I landed so that my knee flew up and whacked into my eye socket, giving me a spectacular black eye that lasted for almost three weeks.

* No real injury, but this one just adds to the "markira is an idiot" files, and is vaguely sports-related....trying to learn how to water ski, and I had barely gotten up when I fell. I was very afraid of going underwater, and so when I fell, I actually got a death grip on the tow bar instead of letting go like a sane person, and ended up getting dragged behind the boat for awhile before I figured it out. And then I did this AGAIN.

* Gave myself a burn somewhere between second- and third-degree on a lawnmower.

* Fell backwards off the new deck at camp. Moments after warning my child to be careful on that same deck.

I'm sure that there are more, but these are the highlights, and I think sufficient proof that I am an accident-prone idiot. :D

Looking forward to hearing about others' injuries and idiocies! mk

I figured it out!

I know the reason that lots of bad things seem to keep happening to me, often back-to-back.

It's all those emails I've gotten that threaten eternal bad luck if I don't forward them on to everyone in my address book.

That I immediately delete, with an intense feeling of satisfaction. mk

Dreams in my Bizarro World

Last night I dreamed that I went out to lunch with a bunch of people from the dorm where I lived. (no, I do not live in a dorm. It was a *dream*) We went to this Italian place where someone convinced me to try an elegant wine with dinner, except by the time I ordered mine, they were out of that wine, so they had to open another bottle of a *different* wine, and the bottle was HUGE. And by the time my order was up, it was time to leave, so we all got in this line to pick up our orders to go. I was the last in line, and I had two giant shopping bags (with handles) full of Italian food and this gigant-o bottle of wine, and I was on my crutches, and it just wasn't happening. And all the people I came with had disappeared.

Fortunately, this guy showed up and offered to help me. Unfortunately, he turned out to be a nutcase, and so I popped into the nearest coffee shop to escape. I discovered that this wonderful, beautiful, HUGE coffee shop, which also sold yummies and then had an entire grocery store in one part, was owned by my friend Erin. (Did I mention that this was in Boston? And that Erin and I both live in Maine?) So while I was waiting for her to finish up with a customer or six, I wandered around the store. And I kept coming across stuff like tote bags and bags of coffee that said "MamaDrama" on them. (in this wonderful spiky script) So I got all excited and kept going around and around the store, just reading aloud the name "MamaDrama." Then a woman came up to me and asked if I needed help pronouncing the name.

I just looked at her and said, "It's 'Mama. Drama.'" (like, WTF. How hard is THAT to pronounce?) And she agreed (duh) and I asked her if she was one of the MamaDrama Mamas. And she got all hedgy on it and didn't want to tell me who she was, but I finally got out of her that she was a regular commenter named Jasmin. (I have no idea if there actually *is* such a commenter by this name.) And I got excited because I totally knew who she was, and I told her I would love to meet a REAL Mama, preferably Jenny or Stephanie, because those are mostly the ones I comment on. (and BTW, I mentioned who *I* was, and she just looked at me blankly, because she had never heard of me) So she said SURE, she could introduce me, and let's go! Right now! 'Cause they were just around the corner!

And then all the people I had gone to the Italian place with showed up, and they were all irritated with me because they had been looking for me everywhere. And I completely bypassed that they had abandoned me in the first place, because I was so excited to tell them about the Mamas, and that I was going to meet them! And I pulled out this map and showed them where the Mamas were. But they made me get my giant bags of Italian (and the wine) and go home.

[And YES, I know that the Mamas are in TEXAS, and this took place in BOSTON.]

Anyway, that was my dream. mk

Photo Fun

I get this photography newsletter from the people at Photojojo, which is a lot of fun. (well, *I* think it's a lot of fun. Ro, who is trying to get them to understand that she does.not.want.any.more.email.from.them, thinks it is less fun. In fact, she is not at ALL impressed with them. But anyway....)

And in one of the recent newsletters, they provided this wicked cool link to a site where you can download a picture of yourself and they can transform it to show you how you would look if you were old, or Afro-Caribbean, or East Asian, or a Botticelli painting, or all kinds of other cool stuff. And because I enjoy freaky stuff like that, I of course downloaded a pic of me and did it. And then did it to Mark. And Kira. And here are some of my favorite shots:

Botticelli markira



















mucha markira



















manga cartoon markira



















el greco mark



















manga cartoon mark



















Botticelli mark



















mucha kira



















manga cartoon kira



















Botticelli kira



















Isn't that fun? Give it a try. Shout out if you do it, and link to your blog so I can go take a look. mk

Train Wreck, or, Lightning Rod for Disaster

Both of those are descriptions which have been applied to me (by others) within the last day. Because. I deserve them.

Over the weekend I was dealing with a neck strain that just kinda happened for no reason. (Occurs periodically.) And a head cold. Both of which were MUCH better by yesterday, which is a good thing, because I can only deal with one major health issue at once.

YESTERDAY. I was going to help my dad pick up a bed that he bought at a lawn sale. King size frame w/ headboard, footboard, rails, box springs, and mattress (all for $75!). The girl had warned Dad multiple times that it was very, very heavy. So Dad brought me to help lift.

Discovered while we were there that we would be carrying these things over an extremely steep banking of gravel and soft dirt. Decided this was a recipe for disaster, yet pressed on.

Those in our reading audience who like to guess ahead have no doubt assumed that I somehow injured my back, or perhaps re-injured my neck, in the precarious climb up the banking. Or maybe a slide *down* the banking. And while those are good guesses (and would have been my picks if I were writing this story in realistic fiction), they are not correct.

No, markira has to be unique. SHE hurt herself....wait for it....carrying the rails to the truck. The little, lightweight, nothing rails. Which, as I was stepping over the bar which connects the trailer to the truck, were tossed unceremoniously willy-nilly as my foot slid into a wheel-rut in the driveway that I didn't notice, rolling my ankle and causing a very bright, spectacular pain.

As I was alone at that moment (thankfully no one witnessed the spectacle of me), I managed to sit down on the bumper of the truck and waited for the pain to subside. Which it took its sweet time in doing. Eventually, at about the same time that I was able to take a normal breath, Dad came 'round the corner with the footboard and saw me. And had to laugh at my latest display of grace.

The woman whose bed we had purchased was horrified that I had hurt myself, and most apologetic (for no reason...my fault I'm a klutz). She offered ice, and to help me get into the house to sit down, and other things I don't remember, but I just waved it all off graciously and (okay, here's where I was kinda stupid, but in a stoic, classic DownEaster way) WALKED DOWN THE BANKING TO HELP MOVE THE MATTRESS. Yup. With a twisted ankle. That hurt like hell. And I did it anyway. Hey, it had to be done. The woman was this little bitty adorable thing who wouldn't have been able to do it, and if I didn't, then Dad would have to do all this stuff later, and I felt really stupid that I hurt myself in such an asinine way, and so I just did it. And we got the mattress onto the back of the truck. (Dad actually carried the weight of most of it on his back, which completely FLOORED the woman, who apparently is unfamiliar with the toughness of the breed of Mainer from which I descend.)

So we got the mattress, I met the woman's little girl (Julia Page, who was 4.5 and absolutely adorable, and probably the most well-spoken and charming little girl of that age I have ever met), discovered that I went to junior high & high school with the woman's husband (and he was a completely hot guy who I had totally wanted to date, all the way up until....well, until I discovered that he was married--he is the complete package: hot, smart, athletic, NICE...he was just ideal. Lucky her. And she's so nice, I can't even hate her. Doesn't that suck?). Anyway, yet another reason to downplay the injury.

So by the time we left, I had peeled off my shoe and sock, and caught a look at the very rapidly swelling mess that was my ankle. And Dad saw it, and we went right back to his house instead of mine, so we could get some ice on it immediately. And after an hour or so (it would have been sooner, but my uncle popped in for a visit and so I didn't really want to admit that I was in a lot of pain or anything), I finally admitted that I should probably go to the ER.

And the result is that I have a torn ligament and I'm on crutches for at least the rest of the week. I'm supposed to allow absolutely no weight-bearing on the ankle for the first 2-3 days, then partial weight bearing for the next 2-3 along with a lace-up ankle brace for support. "Let pain be your guide," said the ER doctor, in describing how to know when to move from one step to the next. 'Cause y'know, I might not have known that.

I got a ride for Mark to his game last night, a different person to pick up Kira for *her* game tonight, my mom came to the house today to do some laundry and cleaning for me (thanks, Mom!), and I had to cancel out on the Brownie overnight on Saturday, 'cause I'll probably still be on crutches and that's no way to go.

Lemme tell you, though, that just in the last day of being on those things, I am developing some great muscles in my arms. And some beautiful bruises on the sides of my breasts under my armpits. And this is the part where I'm just really using them to get from the couch to the stairs (where I climb up on my knees and slide down on my butt) and along the hall to the bathroom or to my bedroom. I'm not even really *going* anywhere. That kinda tells me that my arms were really, really out of shape for this kind of activity.

OK, so Mark is glaring at me to get off the computer and get back on the couch and elevate my ankle (the swelling is still horrific). So off I go. mk

My Date

Realized last night that I haven't actually written about my lunch date on Friday. Need to do that before the details blur and are lost.

So, we agreed to meet outside Cappy's Chowder House at 11:00. I didn't sleep well the night before (it's been awhile since I've had a date. I've had notoriously bad luck with men.) and I was really panicky that morning. At one point I literally could not see straight, my vision was all dim and I was freaking that I wouldn't be able to drive to Camden. About the only thing I wasn't worried about, amazingly enough, was my clothes. I was wearing a new top (that I totally love), a brown-and-beige sleeveless top, with brown pants and these great ankle boots. Loved the outfit. Which helped. Usually I feel that my clothes are ugly and out of style and completely inappropriate, but this time, I was good with it.

I arrived at Cappy's right on time, or actually, a few minutes early. And proceeded to wait. And wait. And wait. I kept checking the time on my phone, and excusing it, because Ro had told me earlier that my clock was off, so I was willing to give a little leeway. But as the time just kept ticking by, I was less and less amused, and just kept imagining being completely stood up, and I was getting little prickly feelings behind my eyes.

Then a waiter-guy came out from Cappy's and asked if I was waiting for someone, and I said yes. He said, "I think he's inside waiting for you." [me: inside? we specifically stated OUTSIDE. OUT. SIDE.] So I went in, and there he was, and I felt foolish even though *I* was the one who was doing what we had agreed on beforehand. And he apologized and I said it was fine and we sat down.

And there were roses in a plastic sleeve waiting for me. Pink roses, three of them, and they were beautiful. I haven't had a man give me flowers in four-and-almost-a-half years. (that was Billy, when we went on our weekend trip to New Hampshire on Valentine's Day. He also gave me a stuffed prince frog that made kissing sounds. And then after that weekend he started dating someone else. But I digress.)
We ordered lunch (I had chicken caesar salad, he had shrimp corn chowder....and I did *not* get the watermelon martini), and things were *incredibly* awkward in the beginning. Face-to-face is very different from email exchanges, where you can take your time, think about things, walk away and then come back, rewrite, etc. Suddenly it's live and in person, no take-backs, and I couldn't think of a single thing on earth to say. Also, Andrew had a rather disconcerting habit of looking directly at me for long periods of time with minimal blinking. (this may be normal behavior, I'm not sure. But I'm not used to it, and it made me feel *very* uncomfortable.)

While we were eating lunch it started to rain outside, which totally frigged with my prior idea to walk around after lunch. But I was really desperate to get out of the restaurant and have him stop looking at me, so I suggested it anyway. (and did warn him ahead of time that I would look like a drowned rat, but hey)

He was a complete gentleman and offered his jacket to me to keep me at least a little dry. At first I declined, but as the rain was pouring through my hair and down my face, I did accept. Although after awhile of not being able to see properly because the jacket was too big and the hood kept falling over my face, I pushed the hood back and wound up looking like a drowned rat anyway. As I said to him, at least if my hair didn't turn out well next time (should there *be* a next time), it would at least look better than I looked now. :D

After a walk down to the water, and then to the ampitheater, and then back through town to my car (to put the flowers away), I did end the date. I was soaked, and I couldn't think of anything else to do or anywhere else to go. We agreed that another date would be a great idea, and off we went.

From there, I waited awhile until he would have had time to walk back towards his car (also I went into the public rest rooms and turned the hand dryer upside down and blew dry at least part of my hair), and then I went to TJMaxx and bought myself a vase for the flowers. (the vase in the picture cost $3. I totally love it. Of course, I'm a little weird and wasn't *sure* I would love that vase with the flowers, so just in case, I bought five other vases.) And then I went to Goodwill and bought myself a rain coat. Nothing like closing that barn door after the horse escapes, huh?

So, since then there have been a couple of awkward emails. He sent one that was really wonderful, very complimentary. My response was probably not as great as it could have been if I hadn't had kids going berserk on me in the background. And then the next morning I woke up with a freakin' head cold and my neck in spasm, so I haven't been able to really sit down and write to him since. I need to do that tonight.

I'm not sure if this has the potential to go anywhere or not. I'm not even sure if I want it to. I do know that I think I want at least one more date. I keep remembering that my parents met on a blind date, and they couldn't stand each other on first impression. This June they will celebrate 40 years of marriage. So if I'm even a little interested in this guy, I think a second date is definitely a good idea.

I think a big part of it is that I'm scared. Like I said earlier, I have had bad experiences with guys in the past. I don't do a good job of picking guys who are good for me. I'm not even totally sure I *want* to be dating. I don't do well with the social thing. I dunno, I dunno, I dunno. So we'll wait and see. And if he asks, I'll go on another date. And we'll see.

Anyway, I wanted to get this down before it all blurred up in my head. So here it is. :D mk

Omen?

Is it a good sign or a bad sign when, in the attempt to get the giant Gators sipper cup (which I have had since high school) that I use to mix my Crystal Light and vodka **, I knocked the straw-top down behind the washing machine BUT it caught on the top of the hoses and so was easily reachable? 'Cause really, that one could go either way.

It could be a sign that I'm not supposed to be mixing approximately 32 ounces of Crystal Light with several shots of vodka tonight.

OR it could be a sign that in spite of my intense clumsiness, the vodka gods are smiling upon me and allowing me to be saved from myself.

I chose to see it as the second one. mk

** seriously, if you haven't tried this combination, it's really quite good. I prefer the raspberry lemonade. First gave it a shot (ha, ha) during the beginnings of my Atkins diet, when I was trying to find an alcoholic beverage that was tasty but had no carbs. ta-da! And low-cal, too!

[It beats the hell out of the first "wine coolers" that my friend Heather and I made up when we were sophomores. Her parents gave her a bottle of Blue Nun wine ('cause she had just broken up with her boyfriend and was threatening to go into a convent rather than ever date again), and we mixed it with Kool-Aid to make it taste better. Klassy, huh?]

Babble

How the hell I managed to injure my ankle washing the sliding glass doors is a mystery to me. And no, there was no ladder involved. But now I can't sit cross-legged in my office chair while I type, because there is pain. Grrrr.
************

I haven't posted lately 'cause quite frankly, I've been super busy and when I haven't been busy I've been too freakin' brain dead to think of anything interesting to write. (not that I write so much interesting stuff anyway, but hey, do we really need to get even MORE boring?)
************

Although I do actually have a lunch date on Friday. That's interesting, right? At least, I *think* I have a lunch date. We have not actually set a time or a place, but we have decided that lunch on Friday would be a great idea. This is with Andrew, who is a guy I've been emailing after meeting him on Match.com. He seems really quite awesome, which makes me totally suspicious because if he is this amazing why isn't he taken yet? And why on earth is he bothering with me? Because I don't feel that I'm all that great a catch or anything. But obviously he is finding something interesting, because a) he keeps writing and b) he wants to meet me. So we'll see. I'm actually NOT nervous about this Friday, which is odd for me because I get nervous about *everything*, including the Brownie meeting that I have this afternoon followed by Mark's baseball game. *Those* things are making me nervous, but meeting a man for the first time (who sounds totally awesome--oh wait, I used that adjective already, didn't I? ok...well, substitute your favorite)....not even a blip on the radar of nerves. Perhaps because we have not yet set a time and place. Perhaps Thursday or even Friday morning will roll around and I will suddenly realize that this is real, an actual DATE.... with a PERSON I HAVE NEVER MET .... in PUBLIC .... and all my nerves will suddenly explode. But hey, until that actually happens, I'm rolling with the whole chillin' thing. :D
**************

Kira won (in her age group, for her school) the conservation poster contest being held by the Knox-Lincoln Soil and Water Conservation District. She was not a *district* winner, but she was a school-level winner. (Mark got an honorable mention for his level.) And for winning at the school level, she was awarded a prize. Her prize was a tree. Which we received on Saturday. And, unlike the 1-foot tall sapling I expected, Kira's tree is over 6 feet tall. It is currently sitting on the deck. I need to plant that sucker. Somewhere. Because my daughter is in love with it. It is an apple tree, and unless you have two apple trees, they cannot cross-pollinate, and thus the apple tree will never bear fruit. But you cannot explain this properly to a seven-year-old, whose response was immediately "Then let's get another tree!" when I am already trying to figure out where the hell I am going to plant this one. (and it's bare-root, which means I need to get it in the ground SOON. Like tomorrow.) Fortunately, I have discovered that if you don't have room for more than one fruit tree, if you hang a can (containing water and flowers from another tree) from the branches of your tree, it can cross-pollinate. So we might get some apples eventually. If I ever actually remember to *do* this.

Here's Kira's poster. The teacher's aide wrote the words on it. The big X on the ground that the sun is shining on is supposed to be batteries. And then the big pink thing on the left is a windmill.













***************
I officially gave notice to the leader of the Brownie troop that this is my last year as a co-leader. I've just been getting too stressed out by some of the details of co-leading, and it's gotten so that I totally dread meeting days, and about the time that happens, I think it's best to step back. Sure enough, I got reinforcement of the wisdom of my decision a little later, because she sent me an email that one of the other parents who was supposed to drive for the Brownie camp-in at the Discovery Museum can't make it, and she (the leader) "doesn't drive to Portland," so another one of the moms was going to drive her car and three other girls could go with me. Just ANNOUNCED it to me. And "Sorry about this." Even though I clearly told her earlier that I was NOT taking my car for this trip. So I emailed back that my car was not reliable enough to count on for the trip. I'm NOT DOING THIS. Y'know how this can work? The other mom who is going down can take HER car, *I* can drive the leader's car, the leader can ride shotgun with me. Because the leader and the other mom are super-close friends, and I'll be damned if the two of them are going to ride together and be all having a good time, while I'm stuck alone having a panic attack in a car with some kids for a two-hour drive. I'm already dreading this stupid trip anyway, and I'm sick of people just assuming that I'm going to do whatever. I'm not doing it. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.
******************

OK, rant over, and I obviously need to go chill out or something. :D So I'm gonna go fold some laundry. mk