The scariest thing I've seen this Halloween comes from my fridge!

Happy Halloween Everyone! 

Today I celebrated Halloween by doing the scariest thing I could think of--- cleaning out the disgusting thing in my refrigerator.  Don't pretend like you don't have a disgusting thing in your refrigerator.  I'm pretty sure everyone has one-- lurking in the crisper and waiting for one of your neighbors to unexpectedly stop by and need to keep their lettuce cool.  I live in fear of someone casually dropping in on me and my refrigerator and seeing my disgusting thing, whatever it may be at the time. 

This morning, it seemed fitting with the holiday to face my fears and clean out my current disgusting thing, which used to be a cucumber.  It was so old and moldy that is was only vaguely still recognizable as a cucumber, and if I had to put a date on it, I'd place its time of purchase sometime during the Nixon Administration. This cucumber was so old, that if it had been married to Newt Gingrich, he would have left it for a younger woman by now.  If this cucumber were an NFL quarterback, then its team would have replaced it with a young, promising draft pick only to have it become a free agent and smash all sorts of records with the Denver Broncos.  At any rate, it was definitely the oldest and wisest member of my refrigerator community, and it was difficult to part with it-- mostly because it was oozing all over my crisper. 

I considered putting the remnants of the disgusting thing on my front stoop to scare trick-or-treaters, but I decided it wouldn't fit with my Halloween theme this year, which is "unspeakable cuteness."  That's because Millie is going as the Lorax.  

Here is a peek at the costume I made for her! 

You can find the knitting pattern for this hat here. 

I also made Sean a Once-ler costume:

Now that I think of it, there are a lot of similarities between the character of the Once-ler and the disgusting cucumber from my fridge.  Both represent overconsumption and waste, both were lurking in a tall, industrial tower, and both are definitely old and green.  The main differences that I see are that my cucumber is probably not as fast at knitting Thneeds as the Once-ler was, and it's unlikely to inspire any bad-assed cautionary tales of industrialism.  

Right now my little baby Lorax is napping in her room-- soon to awake for her first ever Halloween experience.  I hope lots of trick or treaters are planning on stopping by our place tonight, because I've got tons of candy for them.  Parents-- feel free to bring by some healthy snacks if you want me to hand those out as well.  I've got plenty of room in my crisper and for once it's totally clean. 

What to do when your baby calls the UPS man Daddy

Sean and I used to work as field reps for a large publishing company. This was a job that required a great deal of travel, and the frequent delivery of boxes of books to our home offices.  The running joke among the older reps that we worked with was that their kids called the UPS man "Daddy." (Motto: what can brown do for you?!)

This joke was brought home yesterday when our baby ACTUALLY DID CALL THE UPS MAN DADDY. Here's what I think happened.

All babies come equipped with standard sensory equipment-- ears, nose, mouth, and two eyes.  But, especially during the first 8 months, your baby's sense of vision is so underdeveloped that they can't distinguish between you, their parent, and an oval-shaped piece of fruit such as your typical melon or kumquat.

As Millie's vision develops, she is sort of like a cyborg with some of those computerized goggles to analyze what she is seeing. You know, like in the TERMINATOR movies. Here is my estimation of what she sees as she looks around our house.

item: disgusting piece of floor trash
color: brownish
edible: almost certainly
action: put in mouth

item: homemade peach baby food
color: orange
edible: no
action: grimace and/or scream


Lately, she is able to recognize her Daddy as a man with dark hair and a beard. Naturally, she sees him wherever we go.

item: man

location: home

hair color: brown

beard: yes

daddy? yes

item: man

location: large brown truck

hair color: brown

beard: yes

daddy? definitely

item: man

location: check out line in grocery store 

hair color: brown

beard: yes

daddy? probably

That's why yesterday, when she saw "Daddy" at the door to make a delivery, she decided to give him a real treat and say her first words. "Da-tah" She told him lovingly. pointing and waving.  "please sign here ma'am," he replied, looking embarrassed.

When he got home from work, Sean took the news in stride. "At least I know why Cricket always barks at the UPS man," he told me jokingly.  For my part, I think that Millie's cyborg computer must be malfunctioning, which is why I've ordered her a new one.  I hope her Daddy gets here soon to deliver it.

MY Jehovah's witness, and the Honorable Reverend Guy Clark

I got a visit from my Jehovah's Witness yesterday.  She's been coming to see me pretty often lately, especially when I'm in the shower. I wonder if she even knows what my hair looks like dry, or if she envisions that I just hang out in my house in a perpetual state of dripping wet partial dress?  That may explain why she wants so badly to save me!

Now, I know some of my friends dread getting visits from religious evangelists, but the Jehovah's Witness that comes to see me is actually really sweet.  Lets be clear-- I have NO INTENTION of converting to her religion, but--being raised in the South-- I also have no intention of being rude to sweet old ladies who come to my door. Besides, I've worked enough sales jobs to know that cold-calling on people SUCKS BALLS, even if you don't have to confront them about Satan.

When I worked in sales, sometimes people were downright rude.  I was always grateful to have a few customers who I knew I could rely on to be friendly and polite, even if internally they thought of me as a trampy little time-burgler wearing outlandish high heels. (I was usually a trampy little time-burglar who brought brownies with me, which I think must have been some consolation.)  That's why my Jehovah's witness and I have an unspoken agreement.   She never pushes me or asks to come inside, and I politely take her newest magazine ("This one has some great information about Satan!") and warmly thank her.

This last visit, my Jehovah's Witness brought me a new pamphlet called "Three Things that Money Can't Buy."  I don't want to criticize other people's religions, but Sean was quick to point out that nowhere on this list was mentioned "True Love, or Homegrown Tomatoes."

I wish I knew where my Jehovahs witness lived.  If I did, some weekday morning as she was getting out of the shower, she'd get a knock on her front door.  She would run to the door, dripping wet, and when she opened it there would be me, with my guitar.

I'd give her a huge smile, and then tell her I was there, spreading the word of the Honorable Rev. Guy Clark.  Then I'd play her this song, and if I know my Jehovah's Witness, I think she'd really dig it. If nothing else, she'd at least politely listen while she ate her brownie.

"Theres only two things that money can't buy, and that's true love and homegrown tomatoes..."

- Guy Clark

MOM- The Cricket Needs a Ride Home.

I have good news and bad news.

The bad news is that Cricket got hurt.

The good news is that I am learning to use a graphics tablet and can tell you about it via crude illustrations.

Our dog Cricket loves going to the grocery store. She doesn't get to go inside the building, but she bravely fortifies herself against this hardship by licking her genitals and smelling the rotisserie chickens while we shop.

A few days ago as we walked back from such an excursion, Cricket suddenly began to hobble.

"MOM" She said "WAIT FOR THE CRICKET."

I looked back and saw something like this:

Cricket was hobbling along on three legs. She couldn't make it all the way home, so I had to go back and get her in the car.

For the rest of the day, she milked her injury for all it was worth. Here is an approximation of her behavior as I chopped food for dinner:

Hey! Oh heeey.....

(not that you care....)

MOM.

And when we fed the baby dinner, Cricket was VERY BAD INDEED.

From Cricket's perspective, here is what her interaction with the baby looked like:

From my perspective, her interaction with the baby looked more like this:

Another unfortunate side effect to her injury was that-- what with her newfound immobility and all-- Cricket finally got a chance to catch up on some deep cleaning she's been meaning to get done.  And yes, by "deep cleaning" I mean "HER RECTUM," which now sparkles like a teenage vampire.

Once this task was completed, Cricket became suddenly affectionate.

THE CRICKET WANTS TO SNUGGLE.  She said approaching my sister, Tori. KISSIE KISS FOR MY FAVORITE AUNT TORI!

"EVERYONE JUST SAW YOU LICK YOUR ASSHOLE CRICKET!" Tori yelled, recoiling.

Don't ask me how--- but somehow we survived the night without throttling The Cricket.  The next day we took her to the vet and were shocked to discover that she actually is pretty hurt.  She tore her cruciate ligament (doggy ACL,) and may have to have surgery.  In the meantime, she's supposed to stay off her leg and take it easy for 3-4 weeks.  She's been killing the time by eating a lot of green beans and licking her asshole  (not that you care...).