Love a Llama

This photo needs a little explanation. First, what my kids are making with their hands are not the "devil horns" of the headbanger, but various types of llama faces. (I think what we've got here are the "excited llama" and "crying llama," but I can't be sure.) My mom is, of course, making the ASL sign for "I love you." She was confused by the llamas, but after I explained, she got a twinkle in her eye. Holding up her hand with fingers parted in the middle, she quipped, "Vulcan llama."

((Snerk!)) No, I still can't think about it without giggling.

Little Rascals

More adorable kid stuff from this past month. On Sunday, this adorable niece of mine (just call her Darla) sweet-talked my boys into doing a (puppet) show with her. So here, live from Piano-Bench Theater, I bring you The Tale of the King, the Queen, and Three Wooden Spoons.

Pop!

Here we have Punkin Boy doing his impression of a baby dragon hatching out of its egg. I'm telling you, people, the amusement never ends.

You've Really Gotta Hear This

"Geeks in Love" is the new totally favorite song of The Man (TM) and me. Anybody else identify with this video? Makes me wanna dance. Lyrics provided below for your amusement and edification. #:)

Geeks In Love

Nobody's cool as we, nor quite as esoterically far out.
We're so far out it's creepy.
I don't think they'll ever get the groovy standards that we set for love,
but they're not smart like we be.

They have no roses.
Subconsciously they envy us a lot.
They look down their noses and see a couple of dorks with more love than they have got.

When they see us holding hands, they wish that they were geeks in love.
And when they hear our favorite bands, they wish that they were geeks in love.
We rattle off our in-jokes while they wish that they were geeks in love.
And while we make each other smile, they wish that they were geeks in...

La la la,
la la la,
la-lubbidy-da-diddy-love.
La la la,
la la la,
ka-boominy-woah-nelly-love. [Edit: As much as I love this one, it's really "walnutty"]
La la la,
la la la,
ga-shibbidy-waffles-and-love.
La la la,
la la la la love.

As far as I can tell, while other lovers go through hell,
we'll know we're too cool for damnation.
We may not be cutting edge, but we won't take the mainstream pledge,
for we don't need your admiration.

They may not show it.
It doesn't fit their made-up little roles.
They don't even know it, but jealousy abounds within their souls.

When they see us on the street, they wish that they were geeks in love.
And when they hear us trick or treat, they wish that they were geeks in love.
As we lock arms and skip away, they wish that they were geeks in love.
And you can almost hear them say they wish that they were geeks in...

La la la,
la la la,
la-lubbidy-do-diddy-love.
La la la,
la la la,
fa-doobidy-ding-dong-love.
La la la,
la la la,
za-muppety-puppety-love.
La la la,
la la la,
sha-peppity-bismol-love.
La la la,
la la la,
a-bubbly-lava-lamp-love.
La la la,
la la la,
ma-spockity-nimoy-love.
La la la,
la la la,
da-ponkity-ponkity-love.
La la la,
la la la,
geekity-geekity-geeks in love.

Hold That Thought

The weather here lately has reminded me of the line Jim Carrey (as The Riddler) delivers in Batman Forever to Two-Face (Tommy Lee Jones):

"Not many people are both a summer and a winter, but you pull it off nicely."

(Just as a little aside, did you recognize Drew Barrymore in that scene? Neither did I.)

Starting to lose consciousness again... No, wait, take a look at this.

Unbelievable

Or is it? It seems almost too easy...

What do I mean? This guy. What the... well, hell?

Another One?

Yes, I'm posting again today. Thought I needed to leave you with a smile. This was in an email from my aunt, via my dad (I don't know where it originally came from):

Dick Morris looks at the four leading GOP presidential contenders in 2008 -- John McCain, Mitt Romney, Newt Gingrich and Rudy Giuliani -- and notes, "the only one of these guys who hasn't had multiple wives is the Mormon."

Snicker.

More Bad Mothers

An update on the earlier post:

I'm sitting at the desk again, but this time my shoulders are shaking with laughter. It's sad, it is, but oh... let me tell you what I'm talking about.

Well, it's the essay writing thing. #1 Son had to do his homework at the dining table, where he got distracted by every little thing, including other people's homework. He did ask me for help on an essay at one point, and I think I helped clarify things for him. His biggest complaint (i.e., explanation for his behavior) is, "I can't think of anything!" As in, I can't think... at all... do my work for me! I had him read the assignment to me, and the questions he was to answer were extremely clear and detailed. I love that about his school. Maybe he needs more room for creativity, but he denies this. He did figure out what to do next, and he kept going.

Anyway. So later he remembered that "Mommy" will be calling back this evening in response to his request that she come help with some dissection next week in his very first class of the day. He called and asked her even after we figured out that, to do it, she'd have to leave her house before 5 a.m. that day. To be safe, closer to 4. He didn't see this as a problem. She said she'd think about it. So tonight she called back and he told her about the pink slip. He started crying again and went into his room to continue the conversation, which apparently was more of a tirade on her part.

After a while, he came out and (with a smirk!) handed over the phone to The Man (TM). Oh joy. I listened while folding the laundry. I wish I could repeat it word for word; even this end of the conversation was hilarious. The upshot of it was: No, eating more snacks wouldn't help #1 Son do better in school. He does the same stuff no matter whether it's first thing in the morning, right after lunch, or anytime else. Yes, he has the same chances at success as the other kids. More, actually; he's in a special writing tutorial several times a week where he can get help on his assignments. So, no, it's no one's fault but his own. Yes, glad to help.

#1 Son took the phone back, retreated to his room to cry and get yelled at some more. He eventually told her, "Look, I really need to get back to my homework now" (which I'm jumping up and down and cheering about on the inside), hung up, and got back to work. Good boy! I started helping TM with his homework. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. It's her, of course. She had time to talk it over with her husband or a friend or someone and had more to say.

Not long after, we heard #1 Son repeating "I'm a smart kid," (pause) "I can write well," (pause) "I can think up things to put in essays"... over and over in a monotone. I looked at TM in wide-eyed horror. "She's having him do affirmations!" I hissed. "What?" he asked. "You know, 'I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and...'" He finished for me: "And gosh-darn it, people like me!" We couldn't help it; we collapsed into hysterical laughter.

A moment later, #1 Son said (probably repeated, actually) in a suspicious tone, "What are you guys laughing at?" Well, TM had to explain that there was this guy Stuart Smalley on Saturday Night Live, and he was pretty funny... He didn't get into specifics, but it seemed to satisfy whichever of them was asking. We couldn't stop laughing for a long time after, though, at the idea that she was trying to help him get his assignments done by distracting him from his assignments to repeat this stuff over and over. Now I'm a really bad mother, aren't I? Oy.

Bat Boy

OK, this is mostly a test to see if Picasa is goofing me up again. But it's also a really funny picture of my Pirate Boy wearing his daddy's parka. (Yes, it's cold in our house, but not that cold.)

Dang it! It did mess me up!

Huh?

Just now, I was startled from my intense blogging by my punkin, who had been playing quite happily if a bit bizarrely. I looked up and he was standing by the piano in his Superman jammies, cutlass drawn menacingly. I asked him to repeat what he said, and he kindly did.

"Do you want to play Count Dooku's Nutty Fun?" he asked.

I'm not sure I even want to know. Fortunately, he's gone back to shooting droids now, so I'm safe. Well, until he decides I'm a droid.

Cake and Pictures

I'm catching up on my photos; finally got the rolls of film developed from the past year. This is, of course, #1 Son and his birthday cake in the shape of Zorbak the "ebil" blue Moglin (just call him a bunny with a bad attitude). I mentioned it here, if you recall. It's not the best picture; compare it to the original here if you want. Enjoy!

New Year's Resolution, Anyone?

Thanks to Renee for this silliness...

In the year 2007 I resolve to: Sleep my way to the top. Get your resolution here.

And I do mean "sleep."

Holiday Fun

This one's for you, Kailani: a white Christmas! See, you can have one after all!

Casino Fatale

Umm, sure. Last time I was Death. Must've changed my favorite color or something.

You are The Tower

Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.

The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.

The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Not a Casualty Yet

Still busily trying to catch up on my NaNo novel (see my sidebar for status) while playing the role of the college widow (is there such a term? maybe just engineering widow) and managing the house and the kids mostly by myself while The Man (TM) tries to pass his classes. Oy.

But in honor of Veterans' Day and all the veterans in my life, including TM and his dad and most of the cast of my novel, I give you selections from Tom Lehrer's brilliant and pertinent song

It Makes a Fellow Proud To Be a Soldier
...
After Johnny got through basic training, he
Was a soldier through and through when he was done.
Its effects were so well rooted,
That the next day he saluted
A Good Humor man, an usher, and a nun.
...
Our old mess sergeant's taste buds had been shot off in the war.
But his savory collations add to our esprit de corps.
To think of all the marvelous ways
They're using plastics nowadays.
It makes a fellow proud to be a soldier!
...
(Full lyrics and comical commentary by Lehrer here.)

Hey, I even have a medal around here somewhere I received for some old military service or another. I used to wear it as an earring. Nowadays it doesn't go with anything I own. At ease.

What Is It With Me, Today?

See what I mean? I told you I had a long way to go.


discover your jack-o-lantern face @ quiz me
Thanks, Carmen.

Tidbit

Aha, Renee found the lyrics for me. What the heck? It's... The Llama Song.

Halloween Fun

Dudes. My dad sent this link to a fun little site for kids and anyone else with a lot of time on their hands. The boys have been carving pumpkin faces all day. This weekend we'll be doing it for real, and I've actually gotten some ideas. Check it out.

It's Not Really Funny

It's finally happening. #1 Son is starting to question his mother's sanity. He came to me a couple days ago and asked, "Why does my mom think all these weird things are true, when everybody tells her they're not?" Good question, kid. Not that I can answer it for him. My best strategy in this case is a sort of Socratic approach. But mostly I keep quiet and let him talk. "I tell her I eat a lot, and she thinks I'm starving!" I know. Sigh. "And remember when she thought I had a concussion?" Yes. Sigh.

He eventually decides that she just isn't understanding what's being said to her, and that maybe he shouldn't make things so complex when he talks to her. "I'll use very small words," he says with a grin.

OK, now I've gotta go stick my face under a pillow and LAUGH.

Talkin' 'bout Pirates

Well, our pirate household enjoyed Talk Like a Pirate Day. Pirate Boy was particularly good and only said "Shiver me timbers!" when he was on the playground and not in the classroom. It was one of our long and painful days, so I had to use the threat of keelhauling to get the little pirates to go to bed, but they didn't make me follow through.

After that, I turned to the most appropriate entertainment I could think of, and fired up the Pirates! game. It's got great atmosphere any old time. But do you know what it does on September 19?

It talks like a pirate, of course.