Friday Concoction

Yesterday Jim and I signed the cancellation papers on our contract for the pretty green house. Bye bye frosted glass cupboards and cute recyclable storage area. Washer and dryer on the same floor as the bedroom, there will be someone else. I'm not sure if she'll love you the way I would have, but fear not, yard so small I can spit across you, people will come. They will come and use you up and throw you away like thin Asian potty paper, and then, maybe, we can start anew. Let's say mid-September, mkay?

Nobody's buying shit in this burning town, there are more houses for sale than there are fleeing Californians these days, so we'll just sit here, waiting.... waaaaiiiiiitttinngg.... for someone who thinks our yard is charming rather than a 95 pound albatross with herpes strung around their neck. Someone like us, two and a half years ago. Then those people that don't realize that living out here is quieter than the library at Gallaudet, those people'll buy it and we'll take our money and run across town to where the water tastes like wine (and we can get drunk at the UofM tailgates and then walk home instead of having to sober up in the second half so we can drive home, which sucks donkey dick - sobering up in the middle of a football game, that is). That day will come, and instead of having this god-awful deadline hanging over us, we can just chill and let what happens happen. Hey! It's August? When did that happen? I've been on my hands and knees (scrubbing you sickos) for the last two months and dammit, I hate it when I miss the British Open. Kidding. Golf on tv? Worse than the Tony Danza show.

Now onto some other stuff...

Links and Asundry

- Did anyone listen to the show on NPR the other night about this girl, Sarah Something I think, who went to visit Gen. Noriega in Panama at his request, after they had exchanged letters for several months? It was a kind of peace-mission, but so bizarre and naive. I'd like to read more about it, but I think I forgot how to read sometime in June.

- Madeleine has a huge crush on the 9-year-old boy down the street, and last night she went to talk to him while he was practicing hitting golf balls in the yard. He's always very sweet to her, but last night he was either tired of humoring a 4-yr-old or really into golf, but he pretty much ignored her the whole time. She came home near tears because of it, and I admit I cried a little when she wasn't looking. One, because how sad is that? And two, because it gave me terrible flashbacks to 8th grade when, well, fill in the blank with your own sad crush story, right? I was trying to help her forget about it, but she said, "Mommy, it's just so sad when someone you like is nice and then they're not so nice." Shit.

- I know I'm not alone when I say I am completely confused by the Israel/Hezbollah conflict. Confused and deeply saddened and angered, though. My mom was right, when I spoke to her last night, when she said it's a crime that with the enormous influence our nation can wield (and does wield, financially, over Israel) we're not even stepping in to facilitate negotiations. Here's a brief background that helped me catch up a little, at least. And Mom, who was that author that wrote a primer on the Middle East? I forgot his name...

- On a lighter note, I like the idea of this, but the bag is kind of ugly, and they couldn't have found any more boring ties, could they?

- Now that our house is virtually empty and impersonal, I made a trip to Target yesterday and bought only what was on my list (plus popsicles and tweezers). It was an unprecedented trip, and to keep in the spirit of not buying stuff I don't need, the pretty, pretty link item for the next few weeks is going to be only that which can be made from junk. Or something to that effect. Behold.

Then and Now (in solidarity with Arabella's black and blue belly, here's my Ode to Injury)

Then (9 years ago I dislocated my left index finger by falling on it when it was bent backwards. The cute but stupid ER doc tried to pull it back into place, causing all the ligaments to run around crazy, then a surgeon had to cut my hand open, rearrange my hand guts, and put the finger back on its perch.)


Now (from a soccer game the other night - wounds also include a knot on my head and a UTI, both being difficult to photograph)