Aagh! Just got a notice that my extra userpics are expiring quickly. what to do, what to do? I don’t think I can live with just 15.
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The annual school photos came in the mail yesterday. Martin and Karin have serious expressions in both of theirs, although Karin looks like she’s about to go ballistic on someone, she’s got that glint in her eye. Martin actually looks a little surprised.
He told me that they had an English lesson in school today. They had to choose the color of a tomato from a 3-choice list of words. *ROLLS EYES* Considering that the Swedish word for red is röd, I’m pretty sure EVERYONE in the class could manage it. I think the time has come for ME to go ballistic on someone.
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After almost completely losing my voice for 2 days and feeling like hammered shit for nearly a week, I’m starting to feel like the worst is over, but still didn’t make it to choir tonight, because I can’t even manage to read half a chapter of Ozma of Oz to Martin at bedtime without my voice going all scratchy and squeaky with the terrible tickle. He had to finish reading the chapter out loud himself, and I find myself boggling a bit again over the really big words that L. Frank Baum consistently uses throughout his children’s novels, and the fact that Martin seems to take most of them in stride, only stopping me now and then to ask what something means. I remember reading once that Beatrix Potter used one really advanced word in each of her children’s stories because she thought it was really important not to condescend to children. That was cool, but L. Frank wipes up the town with her one word and then some.
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I am never bored at work. Never. Not once in an entire year have I been bored.
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The other day in Malmö I saw a banner stretched across one of the little cobblestoned streets in the center of town promoting an exhibition at the Malmö Art Museum: GOD SMAK! it said in great big letters. It took me a few dizzy-Swenglish moments to register that it was Swedish, meaning “Good Taste!” and my visions of a very vengeful Almighty putting the smackdown on the gallery were dashed.
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I bought galestorm‘s rolling desk chair yesterday which was on the block after she purchased her throne. It’s farted on me thrice, and made me laugh every time.
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Too many of my journal posts are little bits of brain fluff separated by 3-asterisk bookends.
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That doesn’t stop me from blithely doing more.
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Book-related Things I Love to Buy But Rarely Use: bookplates, bookmarks, bookends
Number of Books I’ve Read So Far This Year: 87 (Jan-Oct)
How That Compares With the Last 2 Years: 104 in 2004, 83 in 2003 (Mar-Dec)
Average Books Read Per Month: 8.4
That’s 2 a week! Wow! I just impressed my own self with my mad reading skillz! Mimi Smartypants said once somewhere on her blog that she reads 2 books a week, and I remember thinking that was hella lot of reading. Now I say, Pfft! Although, if you compared our reading lists, I’m sure her selections are WAY heavier and more intellectual than most of mine. XD And I have no idea of my page count, or my WORD count, for that matter.
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Ever since the kids were little, we’ve had mealtime jokes about funny dishes that I’m planning to serve them.* If they ask me what’s for dinner, I invariably reply, with a dementedly cheerful voice, “Snake Soup!”…or worse. Today after work I picked up the kids, and started dinner soon after we got home. I threw ground beef in the microwave to thaw, started a big pot of water boiling for noodles, opened a can of mushrooms and another can of mushroom soup and chose a healthy and nutritional, yet fun and colorful, mix of veggies to accompany the meal. The meat went into the warmed-up skillet with a very little olive oil, the mushrooms and some salt and pepper. Sizzle sizzle! I turned it and cut it and made sure it was all browning evenly, and then I added the mushrooms and soup and some crème fraîche (mmm…crème fraîche!) and put the lid on to let it bubble itself into a perfect state of readiness.
At some point each of the kids wandered into the kitchen and asked what was for dinner. “Poop Soup!” I cackled, waving the spatula. Both of them rolled their eyes at me, and Martin said, “Mooooooommmmm” like he’d just metamorphosed into a 15-year-old on the spot. I set the table, nuked the veggie-wobbles, poured drinks, drained the noodles and set everything on the table with a flourish. Ringing my metaphorical cowbell, I called “Dinner’s ready!” and the family arrived, suitably eager and hungry for eats. We sat down, and I lifted the lid from the skillet, and damned if it didn’t look EXACTLY like Poop Soup! There was a duet of “eeeeewwwww‘s” from either side of the table, but you know what? They licked their bowls clean! muahahahahaha!
*It probably started with the popsicle weasels