Tuesday, October 31, 2006

For The Grandma

We went to a pumpkin patch on Saturday that was like a little baby festival for kids. Everything was free, except the pumpkins. J was a good sport, posing with the little guys. As you can see, you'd be hard pressed to find 3 cuter guys in one photo.
Benja and his cousin played with a pile of hay and two big dump trucks the majority of the time. It was so necessary that we drive 35 minutes for that...

Avee wanted to wear her swimsuit. It's October, but her aunt obliged her. Even though the bottoms on her head were so tight it was distorting her face, she was perfectly content with this arrangement and celebrated by sitting in her stroller for 15 minutes.

The reason for this post.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

These things should be chronicled

Things that are important to my 3 and a half year old boy:
Being Spiderman
Wearing boots
Cold water
Stating when he's Spiderman and when he's Peter Parker
Winning "I wonned, I wonned!"
Telling the same nonsensical knock-knock joke repeatedly
Telling me my sensical ones aren't funny
Me staying with him "fo-evoh" at night
Being able to wake me up in the morning
"swearing" with the words "stupid, shut-up, whatever, you kidding me" in that order, in quick succession

Things that are important to my 19 month old girl:
Being right
Doing what she wants
Wearing boots
Riding a bike (in the street, half a block from home, in her pajamas)
Baby Einstein "wawt to waaaaaaaatch"
Bullying kids twice her size but with half her boldness and agility
Being held
Charming people
Taking off her pants
Wishing shirts were as easy to remove
Her dad

Today I ran a quick errand to the store with Benja in a Spiderman costume (complete with mask with limited peripheral vision) and the conversation the entire errand covered these ground rules, repeated 5 times.
"All I need is my spidey suit, and my mask. When I have that on, I'm Spiderman. When I have boots on, I'm Spiderman. They should be red and shiney, but Wal-mart doesn't have any. When I have my mask on, I'm Petoh Pawkoh. That's all you need to know about me."

Also, Spiderman's mask doesn't have a mouth, so I can't kiss him when he's Spiderman. I tried to explain that MaryJane kissed Spiderman, but he insisted that a)Spiderman was upside down and b)He was Peter Parker because he didn't have the mask all the way on.

This morning I had a 20 minute fight with Avee over who should throw away her mangled pizza crust. All without her being able to form complete sentences or me being able to use brute strength. She used her tactic of reaching for whatever you are trying to give her, as though she is finally giving in, and then chucking it back in your face like the stupid sucker you are. We don't say stupid in this house. Sucker isn't any better, but shutupwhateveryoukiddingme?
I am only telling you about this fight because it is the first one I have won. She of course woke up the rest of the entire house with her toddlerese swearing "NO-WAAAAAAAAAAY!" and one of those sleepers was a little boy I watch, 2 months older than her (and twice her size). He, being like most men, didn't get the point of all the screeching from both of us, picked up the pizza crust and headed for the trash. Then he had two redheads in his face instantly. I insisted he put it down and Avee insisted she have the privilege of putting it in the trash. You see, it was a cheap victory---but my first, and I won't let it go unnoticed.

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Jesus and Mama Will Always Love Him

Tonight J and I took Benja on a "date". About 5 months ago I took Benja on a date to a restaurant where he played with his truck the entire time and totally ignored me and then we went to see The Shaggy Dog, which he thoroughly enjoyed. Everytime he hears the word "date" now, he equates it with The Shaggy Dog. Hmmm, much like some of my past dating experiences...

Anyway, when I suggested that he go with me and dad on a date he was thrilled and started yelling about going to see Shaggy Dog again. I conceded to rent it because really, it was just cute how excited he got.

We went to a seafood restaurant that just opened near our home. Ben raved about the food he wouldn't eat and then finished off with a plate of "tuhzzerts". During the meal, a lady nearby was standing up waiting to leave and overheard Benja referring to north and south. J said, "Benja, do you even know what north and south are?" He of course, didn't and so he asked, "Well then, what are they?" Both J and I opened our mouths to speak and then closed them when no words came out. We looked at each other, at Ben and then started to hang our heads in shame. "Well! What ARE they?!" The woman standing nearby saw us floundering and said, "North is very cold and South is very warm." I had been thinking more directional than locational, but that'll work, right?

She walked away after a brief conversation and then came back, "AND Santa lives in the north, at the North Pole---you know Santa right?" Ben responds quickly, "And Jesus, I know Jesus."

We were both surprised at this response. The truth is, he isn't really up on Santa Claus. He was two and a half last Christmas and we moved on Christmas day. He knows that Dad got a bin of popcorn that made him happy and we had lots of presents to open, but there really wasn't any talk of Santa. Obviously he knows about Jesus, but I don't think I've ever really talked to him about the connection between Christmas and Jesus.

We kind of chuckled and the lady, not sure of how to respond, brought up Santa again.

You know where Santa lives?
Jesus lives way up there, in Heaven. And he's watching us so that we are fine.
Yeah, do you know about Santa?
Yes, but Jesus wants us to be....but Jesus wants us to be....but Jesus wants us to be....
(He seriously got stuck on that thought and we weren't sure it would get completed in our lifetimes)
Does Santa bring you presents?
But Jesus wants us to be GOOD!

All I have to say is, all y'all religious nuts STEP BACK, I gots me a mini-proselyter without even trying.

Friday, October 20, 2006

No Knock-knock Jokes Here

I think I get nostalgia a lot. Hmm, that makes it sound like a bad rash. It's a strange sort of emotion for me. I have this weird feeling of longing for how things were, with certain memories that come up---mingled with this sense of wholeness and complete satisfaction with where I am, and it makes for some bizarre moments as I get nostalgic.

Some of my memories, I wouldn't go back to that time for anything (ie, 7th grade, growth spurt, bad skin, one bad day wearing culottes, annoying orchestra teacher) and other times, I long for the comfort, security, simplicity, innocence of the time.

Last night I was standing at the stove frying up some meat for dinner. The smell wafting through the house, the windows open to a cool breeze and the sound of children playing outside, take me back to the days when I was the child outside playing. I hated coming in for dinner. I hated coming in to practice the piano. Memories of family dinners and the ability to play the piano are two cherished things I have today.

I can still see my mom standing at the stove, dumping who knows what into the pot to thicken and make it go further. Sometimes the phone cord would be stretched across the length of the kitchen and wrapped around her body a couple of times as she talked on it. On the cupboards above her were taped comics my brother's had drawn, or she had cut out, permission slips, lunch money, chore lists, and "reminder" notes that said things like, "If Angela asks to go to her friend's house on a school night the answer is 'NO NO NO'. She does not keep her end of the bargain she makes to be able to go." That's just a mild example of the kind of things my mom liked to be reminded of in taped up notes. These notes served the dual purpose of a sort of 1980's ghetto planner, and a scarlet letter for the kids. How could I convince anybody that my word meant something when there was proof right there on a duct taped piece of scratch paper.
On the other side, I'm certain was 25 sentences of "I will not call my brother a pissant" or other such loveliness from me.

While my mom stood at the stove, my brother and I would dash through the house as fast as we could to try and get out the front door before she said our names. We learned early that close proximity to the task-giver was not wise. If I could get out of earshot quickly she couldn't ask me if I had practiced yet, or if I had homework, or to go downstairs and get bag of carrots. And I could get back to the absolutely vital game of touch football in the street.

When I came in the house, my biggest concerns were avoiding vegetables, doing dishes, taking a bath, and bedtime. Sometimes I do long for those simple concerns. My heart starts to feel that longing and I can feel some discontentment creep in to accompany it. The sounds I hear outside are the same sounds of when I was playing in the streets, and I begin to drift to a simpler time...

Then I feel a tug on my pantleg and look down to see a tiny little girl with big blue eyes looking straight up at me. The thing that will make her happiest is to be in my arms. She just wants to be near me. I see my smile on her face, and her daddy's nose. She pleads, "momomomomom--UP!" and I lift her to see the fascinating browning meat. "ohhhh cool" she says when she sees it. I laugh and suddenly feel like my life wasn't complete before she learned to say those words. I breathe out the longing that tried to creep in and pull my baby closer. I feel love like I've never felt it before.

I've married a man who is more than I ever dreamed I'd get to spend my life with. I have children who bring me joy like I didn't know was possible. I look at them and see a perfection I didn't know existed before they were born.

I have made friends over the last 15 years that have helped shape who I am, and continue to inspire who I want to become.

I like the adult I have come to be.

There are things I'd like to change---and I can.

There are things that I miss---but I'm glad I got to experience them in the first place.

There are dreams that have been put on hold. Or altered.

There are realizations I have made as I have gotten older, that make me cringe for how I have behaved in the past.

But I believe when you know better you do better.

Nostalgia will probably still get me now and then, the kind that can make me discontented.

But I'm certain that my 3 year old can come tearing across the house when he hears me come through the door and yell, "YES!" When he leaps into my arms and says, "that wasn't long at all mom!" and promptly pulls up my top lip to examine my gums, I know that discontentedness can take a hike. Some things just couldn't be more perfect.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Words to your Mother

CYM tagged me for this word meme, and as I claw and grasp at the edges of the blogless hole I've fallen into lately, I'm going to give this a whirl and hope it's the jumpstart I need.

When I was a wee little girl, 8th of 9 children, we all had different chores in the house to make things run more smoothly. When we filled heavy duty trash bags full of popcorn for afternoon snacks, someone would be in charge of pouring the kernals, holding the bag, drizzling the butter, yelling that one popped kernal had escaped, elbowing elder sibling to get a better view of the fascinating popping corn, and one to hang on mom's waist complaining that she never gets to pour the kernals. Activities in my house ran like well-oiled machines.

So, naturally, breakfast time and getting out the door to school was also filled with a bunch of little people performing their duties. Since I was homeschooled for Kindergarten and first grade, I didn't leave with the rest of the clan. But waiting for the bus was a big thrill. My job was to stand at the window and announce it's arrival. Which I did, with perfection---each and everytime.
"Hark, the bus is here!" Some mornings felt a little earlier than others, what with serious bedtime fits thrown the night before and books to "sneakily" read under my pillow. So it would easily become "Harquebusier". But the point was always made and my older siblings would scramble from the table leaving trails of oatmeal and unsigned permission slips.

I have no idea what this word means. I know a girl named Maki. Is this when she gets sick? I can hardly believe one little Japanese girl has an entire word given to her illness. But I could go for some Angelono though. I think that would have to mean I needed to be alone. Indefinitely.
No waking up, no diapers, no laundry, no meals, no shopping, no cleaning, no crying, no bargaining to get underwear on...oh wait, where was I?

This is what happens to me most mornings before I am awake. It often happens around mealtime and naptime as well. I wake up to a little 3 and a half year old climbing on me, mingling kisses with breathy whispers of "What are you waiting for mom, get up!" He never waits around for the answer, but I'll tell you, I'm waiting for the 2372 hours of lost sleep since he was born, to catch up with me.

Definitely the kind of meals we have around here. They start out as well-intentioned casseroles but there's always something missing and they are undoubtedly made backwards. There's nary a casserole made in this house that hasn't been yanked back out of the oven to add the chicken, or the rice, or even the requisite can of cream of chicken soup for pete's sake!

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Just try to make it through

A report on my trip. I'm not even going to try and be clever and witty and keep your attention. When I'm done with my summary, maybe you'll understand. And if I'm accidentally clever, witty, or captivating, then---thank you, thank you very much.

I only took Avee with me to Utah. Benja stayed with his aunt and two cousins where I missed out on such winning phrases as "Aw, NUT!" and only got the tail end of random blurting out of "hahahaha! Tricked you!" His 6 year old cousin tried to teach him that there actually had to be a trick involved for that to mean anything, but Benja would hear nothing of it.

Traveling from Dallas on Southwest is a joke. I LOVE Southwest. I will forever be their faithful customer for the years and years of excellent and consistent service I have gotten. But, because of the ridiculous Wright Amendment, flying out of Dallas is not easy. We were traveling all day.

I had a 4 hour layover in St. Louis and so Avee and I jumped on the metrolink and went downtown to visit my old coworkers. Avee took a nap on my friend's office floor. That was cool. I rode the metrolink everyday for 6 months when I first moved to St. Louis. I remember having a conversation with an inebriated man one morning at about 7:40 am. That was in the early years when I went to work early. It progressed over three years from "early" to "on-time" to "showing up". Anyway, the guy was going on about my legs and something about a file cabinet and something about "slamming". I later learned that "slamming" meant he thought I was hot. I thought he was talking about slamming my legs in a file cabinet. Despite the fact that I didn't understand his lingo, I perceived he was being crass toward me and I calmly said, "Hey, I'm a lady, don't talk to me like that." I cannot BELIEVE that was my experience. The 31 year old, not-so-slamming, mother practically wet my pants if someone even glanced in my direction. I have turned into a big ol' chicken.

I got to spend Friday with some good friends. I rented a bike for the ride (sorry I lied in my last post guys, it was too sweet of a bike to pass up the opportunity) and put Avee to sleep in a hotel bathroom. She slept perfectly.

Saturday was the day of the ride and it was quite cold and rainy. I wasn't sure that gravity would be on my side with the rain factored in, so I was a little nervous. But I did it. It was 8 and a half miles and there weren't really any hills, except at the end. I really wasn't in shape for it, but I'm glad I did it. At one point I found myself riding alongside one of my cousins that I hadn't seen yet. We started chatting....well, I'll be honest, he chatted and I gasped, wheezed, and sputtered out a few words here and there. He was sweet and endured this kind of "conversation" for a few minutes and then made up some excuse about "friends up ahead". It's okay, I know he loves me. Off of bikes. Fully oxygenated. But, I'm sure it's love.

It was emotionally more difficult than I anticipated. I couldn't help but think how much Josie would love to be involved in such an effort. And then just sad that it has become the big deal it has, because of her death. 8 cyclists were killed in Utah this year--being hit by motorists. I think that is twice as many as last year.

So, highlights of the trip altogether.

Wait, does highlight mean only the good stuff? Umm, let's see then---a brief summarization of memorable parts of the trip.

On the day we flew to SLC I inadvertantly dressed Avee in an exactly identical outfit to mine. Believe me, it didn't get past anyone except the blind TSA worker in Salt Lake. Avee and I enjoyed a slushy thingy from Starbucks (I'm sophisticated, I ordered a Venti soy slushy thingy). As a result, the area around her mouth kind of got red. So this is what the dude at security said as we were walking through (after taking off our perfectly innocent shoes that only became bombs when we removed them). "Oh, look at you guys, you are twins, with the red hair, green shirts and blue jeans, all you need is to get red spots all around your mouth and you'll be identical." Perhaps he failed to notice my considerable difference in SIZE! Holy moly, if you're gonna point out the skin imperfections, why stop there? I have to say, at that point I laughed. On the return trip, when my $13 mascara and $20 foundation and $4 but very sexy lip gloss were confiscated, I wasn't laughing. I was late, sweaty, tired, and sick of taking off my shoes. I wanted to punch the smug little make-up stealer in the goatee. People that age shouldn't have goatees anyway.

All day Saturday Avee ran a fever of a little over 100 degrees. That meant everyone was ugly, stupid, and trying to steal her voicebox from her throat.

Sunday I went to breakfast with two friends. Just after the orders were taken but before our food came, Avee climbed out of her high chair, onto my lap, with the incessant whimpering that had begun an hour or so before and yakked the 17.3 ounces of water and three fruit loops she had consumed in the last 18 hours. In her defense, the fruit loops added a pleasant scent so we were able to keep down our last 18 hours worth of consumption. She got it ALL over me, not an ounce anywhere else. I went out to the car, changed Avee, who had suddenly become very pleasant and delightful, and then went to the bathroom and changed myself, who was suddenly not so pleasant and delightful. But then I had some yummy strawberry crepes and all is well that ends well. Is that gross? A mother's gotta do what a mother's gotta do. The interesting thing about this is, I have been a mother for nearly 3 and a half years---which is not long in human years, but is VERY long in el vomitar years---and I have NEVER been thrown up on. Once I was holding Benja ALL day as he was quite sick. J walked in the door, Benja tottered over to him and immediately threw up all over him. Another time Benja woke up in his crib crying very hard. I ran in to comfort him, thinking it was a bad dream. He stood at his crib and I resisted picking him up, as I didn't want to "spoil" him. He didn't calm down, and J walked in to check on us. I stepped away, for some unknown reason---J instictively stepped closer and I encouraged, "pick him up". Now, I am a firm believer in not asking J to do things I can do for myself. Unless it involves chocolate ice cream, cold water, a good movie, and a comfy couch. So, it was unusual for me to tell him to pick up Ben, when I was right there. He picked him up just in time to be covered by the flavor of the day. I actually took pictures of that, and I know where they are--but I'l spare you.

So, Avee broke the trend. As per usual.

Sunday I got to visit with my friend Camille and play a little catch up. That was very fun.

Sunday night I stayed up talking to my best good cousin until after midnight. We thought we were so cool lasting that long. I got to go to bed with the image of her almost 2 year old sitting upright in her crib, still asleep, trying fairly successfully to stay upright. I think that kind of stuff is always funny.

We flew out at 7:15. It was just prior to that that I got my makeup stolen.

I planned a layover in KC and my sister and mom came and met me. It was really nice to get to see them. My sister is 7 months pregnant and just looks like a cute pregnant lady. And my mom, well, she's not pregnant, but she's cute. We zipped over to a Marriot and had a lunch about which my pregnant and very hungry sister said she'd "be embarrassed to serve such small portions". I thought that was funny. I almost ate a waiter's wrist once when I was pregnant with Benja and the bread took to long in coming to the table.

Some man came into the restuarant five minutes after it closed, sat himself, got disgusted that no one knew he was there, even though they were closed and hadn't been seated by an employee---went to the kitchen and started yelling, "HELLO!? HELLO!?" When he got someone to wait on him, he spoke rudely and condescendingly and said things like, "Aren't you going to bring me _______ now!?" Then of course his coffee was "ice cold" and that warranted another loud visit to the kitchen door. When he was brought a hot cup of coffee he said, "Are you going to bring me a pot or what!?" I wanted to go over and say, "Hi, I'm Angela, I've always wondered where the earth's axis was---surprising and unpleasant, but still glad to have met you".

On the flight from KC to Dallas I sat next to THE kindest man ever. He played with Avee for like 15 minutes and it was almost like he enjoyed it as much as her. He read to her, asked her questions, sang to her. He of course reminded me that she'd be a sophomore at KU before I knew it, so cherish it. I actually always appreciate hearing that stuff because I know it's true and it's easy to forget when you are in the throes of it. Or throws of it. He only played with her for 15 minutes because she slept the rest of the time.

Oh yeah, another highlight of the trip for me was when I was standing in the aisle of the plane, waiting to get off. This was in...I think St. Louis. My eyes were right about the level of Avee's ears and I noticed a little earwax. So I picked at it. She turned her head away, so I picked at her other ear. She growled at me and stuck fingers in both ears and shook her head to completely deter me. After we deplaned I went into the bathroom to change her diaper. A lady who had been on the plane behind me came up and told me that Avee's ears probably needed to pop because she saw her putting her fingers in her ears and shaking her head, and maybe I hadn't noticed because I had so much else going on. Like, standing there, holding her, walking....
I know people have good intentions, but seriously now.

My heart was aching to see my Benja by about Saturday. I'm just no good without that little guy. He was very happy to see me, but more happy to see Avee. They rammed bellies and pushed each other a few times like a couple of cavemen football players.

The actual traveling wiped me out. The visiting with good friends was rejuvenating. Avee being sick the entire time and Benja being away from my ever-loving arms was exhausting.

Avee started a croupy cough and breathing yesterday. She got croup last December and even though I thought she had swallowed a Coqui in the night and made my nursing student sister come over at 7 am and fish it out---it wasn't that bad and we rode it out and she was fine. So I was pretty unconcerned when the seal bark showed up this time around. Only, she slept until noon today and when she woke up was breathing so rapidly I found myself getting exhausted just watching. I remembered my cousin's 18 month old getting pneumonia and her right lung partially collapsing and it being very similar to what Avee was doing. So I took her to the doctor. After about 20 seconds with a nurse, she bolted and got the doctor and 4 nurses came with him. The quickly got her set up with a breathing treatment and gave her a shot in the thigh. She fought them tooth and nail, I cried, and Benja offered helpfully, "I don't sink she likes that fmoke in her face" and later, "What do you think we could do to feel Avee bettoh mom?"

Her oxygen levels didn't improve and her heart rate didn't go down so the doctor got worried and said I needed to take her to the ER. I was, for some reason, not clear on the seriousness of being sent to the ER by the dr and started asking questions. He picked up Benja, and escorted me to my car and buckled Benja in. This is the same doctor who escorted us out the "super secret special back way" a few weeks ago. He is a good man.

So, at the ER admittance desk, they were nonplussed by my little wheezer because the computers were down. A nurse walked by and said, "You need to get that baby back to triage" and the receptionist said, "But our computers are down". Avee was escorted back almost immediately. And those admitting clerks got glared at by more than just me and Avee. Two breathing treatments and about 40 minutes later she was under control. She and I slept on the hospital bed in the ER because they wanted to monitor her for a couple of hours. After our trip to Utah and an afternoon sleeping in the ER, she didn't think there was any place for Benja in the family. She was annoyed that he thought he was entitled to any mothering.

I'm exhausted. And thirsty.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006


Well folks, I know I haven't been much of a frequent flyer in these here parts for the last couple of weeks---but now I have good reason not to be.

I'm off to Utah for my cousin's memorial ride. I'm pretty excited to be able to participate this year. It's been just a little over two years since Josie died, and this is the third annual memorial ride. The first year I was pregnant with Avee and the second year I had just moved away.

In all honesty, I wish the whole thing didn't exist---but since it does, I'm anxious to take part.

I got myself a new bike for the ride. I haven't done any real biking since college, so this will help with the transition.
I'm going to stick Avee in the back basket. She'll have a windbreaker, some string cheese, raisins, and a helmet.

All I need to get are a bell and some red, white, and blue handle streamers.


Are there certain phrases or words you use or know, and can remember exactly where you first learned them?

I have a few. Usually when I hear them being used, I can figure their meaning, but don’t know it exactly. And that makes for some awkward attempts at using them.

Sleight of hand: I’m still not entirely clear on the exact meaning. I get the idea. I first heard it in college when I was working as an assistant to a professor. He had to sit in a conference room with his grad students and apparently, didn’t want to. He came to me and said, “this may be sleight of hand, but about 10 minutes after the hour, I’d like you to open the door and motion for me, as though I have a phone call or some important business.” It was one of the most stressful tasks he’d ever given me. I thought “sleight of hand” was “slight of hand” and there is nothing slight about me. And is there a particular way you should manuever the hand when you are sleighting it? I practiced for the entire time before I was expected to perform. I decided to forgo the whole hand thing and focus on making my face convincing. I mustered up my best “I have something very urgent to tell you” face. After all, I had the important task of getting Mr. Professor out of doing his actual job of professering. Not one person, including the professor, looked at me when I opened the door. He just jumped up and bolted, muttering about something very important he had to do. Apparently Educational Psych dissertations are so enthralling, even a hot redhead at the door won’t make you look up.

Arbitrarily: I first heard it long ago from my friend Traci. Back when I still said things like “dude” and “sweet” and “shut UP” more than anything else. She always says cool words like that with ease and complete knowledge of meaning and probably even root origins and Greek translation. I thought I knew what it meant. But every time I’d use it, I’d scan the listener’s face to see if there was a flash of “oh-ho! One of those! A girl who uses big words with wild abandoned and not an ounce of comprehension!” Most recently I used it while talking to my SIL and I thought I saw a glimmer of that. I typed it in a word document and I don’t know if my Microsoft thesaurus was on crack, or if I just seriously misspelled a word, because it said the meaning was “forerunner” and other similar words to that. My heart sank. All those times I used the word, I had no clue. I mentioned it to my husband who looked at me with serious, loving concern, and said, “What did you think it meant?” I told him, I thought it meant, random, without much thought to selection. He said that’s what it means, and suggested I had accidentally typed in “harbinger”. What cracks me up is, not only could he assure me I had the correct meaning in the first place, he could immediately think of a word that shared similar letters to “arbitrary” and meant “forerunner”. Long story short, I have no idea what happened between me intending to type arbitrary, and translation to thesaurus; however, I feel confident in using arbitrary and arbitrarily---as arbitrarily as I want.

Dubious: I was in college. A coworker had set me up and we were going on a double date to a football game. Her idea of “taking care of getting tickets” was to sneak me and my date into the game without paying. Once we were in, she was scheming to get us closer to the field. I am 5’11 with red hair. In general, I feel conspicuous. Involve me in illicit activities and it’s magnified 100x’s. I just wanted to sit down and try to blend. But she kept scheming and trying to get us to join her. The guy I was with finally said, “Let’s just sit down here since we are already here on dubious pretense.” I found it charming that sneaking into a football game was “dubious pretense”. And I was grateful to not do anymore sneaking.

Throes: I know the phrase “in the throes of” but I never really knew the word. I used it in my blog a few months ago. But I wrote “throws”. It could have been a mindless typo, but it was in fact, an ignorant mistake. My husband, who had just months before commented on my family’s ability to correct and receive correction with each other, without it being offensive, got on my blog and publicly corrected me in my comments section. After all, I take it so well when my parents or siblings do it in private conversation! I was so annoyed. And then it made me really laugh. He was 3 feet away from me when he typed his friendly advice. Make no mistake---it was deleted. I have zero tolerance for unwarranted comments.

And then there are words I wish I could pull off, but just can’t. I’m sure I’ll sound like one of those people who say, “pacific” for “specific” or confuses idioms, “at the drop of a dime”.

Veritable. It seems like it should mean “almost” or “cheap imitation”. But it doesn’t.

And, quintessential. What a lovely, almost useless word. It’s a word I’d use a lot if I could pull it off, but I can’t. I do admire those who can.

Opposable thumbs. I can’t use the phrase because I can’t fight the urge to say “pose-able” like Barbie dolls. It’s just not right.

Monday, October 02, 2006

The One Where Avee Gets Pho