Saturday, September 17, 2016

I knew I'd regret the caffeine at this hour

I'm lonely all the time now. I think I have been lonely for the last six years. Ryan used to try to solve the problem by bringing home cats. It wasn't a practical solution then and it certainly wouldn't help now, but I miss them, too.

If you were listening, what would I say?

In my head I'm already gone. I don't know where. Corellia, probably. I have no idea what I'm doing but if I can use telekinesis to manage it I think I'd be a lot happier there.

Emerald wine with your nerf steak, sir?

Are you happier this way?

Do you remember when we were all mad and I tried to make you smile with just the power of my mind? I don't know if it actually worked but you smirked and that's pretty close. Sanity is so overrated and reality is worse.

I remember less of geometry than I do of that moment and you were absolutely right in ways I cannot fathom, but it still couldn't be.

I never have the slightest idea what you're talking about.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Yarn Along

Ezra has been cheerfully wearing the Sucky Thumb Mitts that Silas has long outgrown, prompting me to finally get a new pair on the needles for Silas. This time I'm using the Adorable Kids Fingerless Gloves pattern, modifying it as I go to make it more like Sucky Thumb.

I'm rereading The Goblet of Fire for maybe the second or third time, but since the version I'm reading on my Kindle has the original British text, it's a bit like reading for the first time. It's also entirely delightful.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

I had grand ideas about catching up and putting together a blog post today.  Then I sat down at the computer and forgot everything I've ever thought or done.  Fortunately, I was saved the frustration of trying to type in that state, because as soon as I ever sit down to do anything, my three-year-old suddenly insists that he has to go potty.  This is usually a half-hour venture, as we must first decide which of his five hundred books that we have read five hundred times over is the book we will take to the bathroom with us, and then we must mount the staircase, with frequent stops to look over the railing to see what the living room looks like from above, and at the window on the landing to see what the neighbor children are doing and if their house is still there, and then when we reach the top of the stairs we must look inside every door, just in case perhaps the bathroom is now in one of the bedrooms, and finally we are in the bathroom, and we negotiate over who has to do the disrobing, and then we stop to look in the mirror, and smell the soap, and brush our teeth, and wash our hands, and unroll the toilet paper, until finally, finally, we make it to the toilet and maybe something toilet-related happens, or maybe we're too late, or maybe this was all just an excuse to play in the bathroom and read a book.  Then we argue about whether or not Silas has lost the capability to put on his own pull-up and pants since the last time were there, and when that finally happens, we wash our hands, and brush our teeth, and smell the soap, and look in the mirror, and run into every bedroom, and go down the stairs as far as the landing to look out the window, and go down one stair and spend five minutes hanging over the railing observing the living room from above, and point out that the ceiling is still up, and the floor is still down, and eventually, finally, make it back downstairs.  And then I sit down at the computer and realize that now I have to go to the bathroom.  So I stand up and go to the stairs, and Silas asks, "Where are you going?"

"Mama has to go potty."

"I go potty too!"

Repeat from step one.