All Things Are Possible When the Sun Shines

There is a definite correlation between the brightness of the day and my productivity. When the sun shines brightly, as it did yesterday for about half the day, I'm all, "Let's gogogogo! What can I do next?!" And so, with the sun beaming into the windows, I cleaned out the back hall, dusted and vacuumed, put up Christmas decorations, cleaned up the junk that accumulates outside the dining room door, and finally cut down the dead asparagus in the garden.

Then it got cloudy and I sat by the woodstove with a cup of tea.

It's really unfortunate that I live in one of the most overcast places in the United States.

Indecision

I had two things I was considering telling you this morning. They couldn't sensibly be combined into a coherent post, as they have no relation to each other. And they're both equally insignificant and inconsequential. So I decided to just throw them both at you. Double the randomness for your pleasure!

1) Yesterday all three adults in the house bathed and I did a load of Cubby's laundry. The result of this was no hot water by the afternoon. And when I say no hot water, I mean not even lukewarm water. I had to boil two pots of water on the stove so I could give Cubby a bath without him getting hypothermia, grumbling the whole time about what is this, 1850? And then I had to do a HUGE amount of dishes by continuously boiling pots of water for the wash water and the rinse water. More grumbling. Somewhere around pot #4, I announced to the household at large that this was a STUPID WAY TO DO DISHES. But the MiL was gone and A. was upstairs, so there was no one to hear my complaints except Mia. She was unsympathetic.

2) I don't like to eat sweet things in the morning. This is because I put sugar in my coffee and I have this thing about eating something sweet after drinking something sweet. The thing being that I don't like it. I have to cleanse my palate with something salty. It occurred to me this might be a little weird as I was eating a palate-cleansing pickle at 8:30 a.m., between my oatmeal with brown sugar and my sweetened coffee. And no, I am not pregnant.

And a bonus #3 . . .

3) I can't get my computer to connect to the wireless network at the moment, so I'm writing this on A.'s office computer. The keyboard is at a different height and I've made like a hundred typos already. Annoying.

Waitwaitwait! A surprise #4!

4) I just this minute got a phone call from the local feed store letting me know that A.'s 100 pounds of custom-mixed sheep feed is ready for pick-up. I never in my life thought I would be getting phone calls about sheep feed.

There! Aren't you glad I decided to share all of that with you? Happy Friday!

Any randomness you would like to share with me and the rest of the class today?

My Favorite Word

You may have noticed that I use the word "gross" a lot. That's because there seem to be an above-average number of things in my life that are appropriately described as such.

Let us take, for example, my day with Cubby yesterday.

Cubby has a cold. Not, THANK GOD, the horrible, evil, sucking-the-will-to-live stomach virus that I suffered through, but still. A cold. Colds come with snot, which for babies is not so easy to dispose of. Since they can't just handily blow it into a tissue, you see. No, they instead smear it all over their sheet while they sleep; smear it all over their faces with their hands; shoot it with surprising velocity from their noses in glutinous, horrifying ropes when they sneeze. It is, in a word . . .

Gross.

In addition to the cold, Cubby is teething. Teething means drool. Drool that mixes with the snot and drips all over the place and is . . .

Gross.

Also, in my quest to get the child accustomed to self-feeding food in non-puree form, we've been having some really intense feeding sessions lately. This involves putting various small, soft foodstuffs on his tray that he then smashes in his fist and smears everywhere, thereby creating a really artistic mural of food that is . . .

Gross.

The culmination was dinner last night, at which he was drooling, sneezing snot out of his nose, smearing food around, and THEN (wait for it!) he gagged until he threw up.

GROOOOOOSSSSSS.

Helloooo RAIN!

Yes, RAIN in all caps, with an exclamation point. That's what we're getting right now.

Rain in the summer isn't so bad, and is usually kind of needed. But rain any other time of year means only one thing: MUD.

Yes, in all caps.

Mud around our house is no joke. It's one of those things you don't think about when you're living in a city, because everything is paved. There may be some puddles, but those are navigable. But on a property on which nothing is paved, the mud is inescapable. And depressing.

Rubber boots are a necessity, despite being something of a pain in the ass to get on and off. Unfortunately, at the moment we have all of one pair of rubber boots for the entire household, that only fit the MiL and I. And they have a leak in them. A.'s split right down a seam not too long ago and had to be thrown out (they were about 15 years old, so it wasn't as sad as it might have been).

This is why when my mother asked what A. and I wanted for Christmas, the first thing I said was "Tingleys."

Tingley is the brand of rubber boots we use. They last forever (or at least 15 years); they're relatively comfortable for rubber boots; and they go all the way to right below the knee, unlike those sissy fashionable rubber boots that barely clear the ankle and are mostly useless to us.

I'm sure my mother was thinking something a little less utilitarian might make a better Christmas present, but Tingleys are what we want, so Tingleys are what we're getting. My mom's good like that.

Too bad we don't have them today, though.

P.S. Um, am I supposed to have a disclaimer or something here? Even though I linked to the site for Tingleys, that was just for your edification and has nothing to do with any prodding by the Tingley people for product endorsement. I am endorsing them, but only because they're what we like and not because I get free boots or anything. I don't think Tingley does a lot of blog advertising. Just a guess.

The Real Life Adventures of Jethro and Divot

Cubby and I went to the library in the village yesterday afternoon to pick up a book I had ordered from another library*. I never fail to see people I know when I go to the library. Yesterday the assistant librarian was working, and I stayed to talk with her for a few minutes. As we were leaving, I saw a cat outside the library door, so I asked the assistant librarian if she knew whose cat it was, because there used to be a stray that sort of lived in the library when I was volunteering there.

Not only did she know whose cat it was--because that's just how small this village is--she knew the cat's name. His name is Divot. And then, I got to hear a story about Divot the cat and a dog named Jethro.

Am I wrong, or are those the best names ever for a couple of characters in a children's book about a dog and a cat who go on fun adventures? Come on now.

This adventure involving the real Jethro and Divot was not exactly suitable for the amusement of small children, however, as we shall see.

Jethro is a very large dog owned by a local family. Jethro's owner was walking him on a leash in the village when Jethro caught sight of Divot. Instead of striking up a friendship and gallivanting off on amusing adventures, Jethro did what dogs tend to do when confronted by cats: He lunged for Divot, no doubt intending to rip off Divot's head.

We can already see that Jethro, at least, is not going to be in any children's book anytime soon.

Jethro's owner, in a bold act of heroism, kept hold of the leash, thereby saving Divot's life. Unfortunately, Jethro was large enough to drag her down onto the asphalt, where she broke her kneecap.

No, Jethro is definitely not going to be starring in a children's book. Divot might still have possibilities, though.

* To be specific, Gene Logsdon's Practical Skills: a revival of forgotten crafts, techniques, and traditions. In what I've read so far--the first few chapters-- he's covered setting up a workshop, painting, how to choose a woodstove, hog butchery, spinning and weaving, and many, many other things in impressive detail. This is a seriously kick-ass book.

Mystery Photo Today--Because It's Better than Talking About Vomit

Am I right? I figure no one is really that interested in the fact that my stomach still feels a little iffy but I did manage to eat some applesauce and tea this morning with no ill effects (ill! HA!) and have not actually thrown up since yesterday at 2 p.m.

You really weren't interested? Too bad! I shared anyway. I'm a giver like that.

ANYWAY.

Let us once again delve deep into my unorganized and unlabeled photo archives for a photo that remains a mystery until it uploads onto the post. This one came from a folder labeled 12-8-2009 and is a picture of . . .

All together now: AWWWWWW

It's Rita the No Longer Homeless Puppy! I took this photo (and posted it) right before she left us for her new family. We have had sporadic reports on her since, and it appears that while she can be something of a willful pain in the ass (I could have told them that), her new family is still very pleased with her.

And I'm sure you're pleased to have an adorable photo of Rita to replace the image in your minds of me hunched over a toilet. Wait, what? You weren't imagining that? Well, I bet you are now! HAHA SUCKAHS!

Have a nice day.

That Ain't No Cold, Son

No, definitely not a petty little cold. More along the lines of flu. It was not a fun scene around here today.

But let's find the silver lining! If I had to suffer (and OH, SUFFER I DID) through a bout of the flu, at least it brought me down on a day when both A. and the MiL were home to take care of Cubby. I did provide access to his milk supply every few hours, but was otherwise free to spend my day alternating between the fetal position on the bed downstairs and the fetal position on a towel on the floor of the bathroom. Closer to the toilet, you see.

At one point as I cuddled close to the toilet, I recall fuzzily thinking this felt a lot like one of the earlier stages of labor. Except the end result was not a stupendous and wondrous baby, but vomit.

Definitely not as rewarding.

Speaking of that wondrous baby, he has thankfully so far been spared this illness. He was a little snuffly last night, but otherwise unconcerned. Of course, he's had a flu shot. Just another example of the importance of vaccinations, kids.

The crackers and ginger ale I tentatively chanced a couple of hours ago have so far not reappeared, which I will take as a positive sign. Though I'm not all better yet by any means, so I'm not counting my toilets before they remain unflushed. If you know what I mean. Which I don't. So I think I'll be going now.