Felt like starting a thread that has nothing to do with the events of this week. Here’s my Mundane Thing O’ The Week:
I had a dentist appointment on Wednesday, for a cleaning. Took my daughter with me, because she (at the time) hadn’t yet ever been to the dentist, and I wanted her to see what they do.
So, we go. She sat on my lap nearly the entire time, intently watching every move the hygienist made. She even helped–you know the little vacuumy thing they give you to suck up the spit & stuff? The hygienist let her run it when I needed it. OH boy, did she ever think THAT was cool.
My goal in this was to get her to think that going to the dentist is cool and fun. That goal was definitely achieved. She was WAY geeked for her own appointment, which was yesterday.
I wasn’t able to go. My husband went, and said that she was an absolute ANGEL, and really enjoyed it. She got a toothbrush, some sparkly toothpaste that smells like bubble gum, and some bracelets from the dentist’s treasure box. And she wants to go back.
Which she will, unfortunately sooner rather than later. She did have one small cavity. Sigh.
That was a really cool idea, I’d have never thought of something like that.
Um my mundane thing of the week.
Finally started on cleaning/unpacking the last remaining boxes from my recent move. (it’s been a very long process of unpacking and organizing) There was one box I started digging into and I found winter clothes which I hadn’t worn in two or three years. Most of the stuff is just out of style so I’ll probably make a trip to Goodwill soon. I wonder if I can take back some of the clothes??..They haven’t been worn and still have the tags on them. Gifts from relatives, my parents wouldn’t let me return them incase they visited and wanted to see me in the shirt they bought me.
Why is it that relatives only get you something you like about 1 out of every 10 tries? I feel bad returning their stuff, but I can’t be seen in some of the stuff they buy me. I’ve got a certain style to the way I dress, an I don’t know how to tell them that wranglers and ties with cartoon characters isn’t the way I dress.
My birthday is coming up in Oct. so thats kinda the reason this popped into my head, I guess.
I usually wear a clothes from Structure, or Nautica stuff uw nice stuff. Even my parents can’t get it right. They’re of the mind set that it’s nonpractical to buy expensive clothes, and I like the really expensive clothes wether it’s an Italian silk shirt and slacks or jeans with tight ribbed t-shirt. I will not leave my place unless I look damn good. I’m about the only guy who takes longer to get ready than my female friends. My friends are always joking around that if i’m getting ready to go somewhere that I need at least an hour’n’half which isn’t far from the truth.
Well I’m just rambling on again, it kinda feels good to talk about something other than the news, try it.
I bought a new digital camera last week, so I’d have a GOOD one to take to the Keys with us next month on vacation. Yesterday, I took some pictures of the ton of rain we got from Tropical Storm Gabrielle, and happily downloaded them to my PC. Finished, set camera to one side, went about business. 20 minutes later, hubby wanted to take a picture of the dog 'cause she was doing something “cute”. Camera is no longer functional!!! $600 for that thing, plus all the accessories, etc!!! Anyway, hubby took it back today and got it exchanged. He’s my hero!!! (I’m at work today, so I couldn’t get there before Thursday or so. ::sigh:: I just love it when a big handsome man comes to my rescue!!!)
Dianasaurus Rex and Johnzilla decided that they wanted scrambled eggs for lunch. Okay by me.
Now they’re gleefully pushing each other away from their plates and eating each other’s eggs. Laughing hysterically while they do it.
Kids are weird. My kids, on the other hand, are really, really weird. My mom says that since my kids don’t look anything like me (which is true–they look so much like my husband it’s like I was never pregnant), their weirdness is the only thing that proves that they are indeed mine. Then she backs quickly away.
I’ve been working on my entryway while looking for a job. I stripped off the wallpaper, removed the baseboards, and just finished putting the third coat of paint on (cheap paint, but I only used about half a gallon to put three coats on) This amused me: the paint is marketed to the hispanic community; everything is written in Spanish first and then you might get the English translation. The brand name, however, is McCloskey
Next I’m going to granite the walls. (I would marble them, but I never could get the hang of veining) Then I’m going to put a glossy coat on.
I’ve been reading Ender’s Game/Speaker For The Dead/Xenocide this week. Incredibly good books. But I’m mad at the publishers: the covers have abso-f’ing-lutely nothing to do with the story. I wouldn’t have read them if I hadn’t gotten recommendations from three separate sources.
Kids, their cuteness is evolutionary-based for self-protection.
It was a beautiful day out, so I took the laptop out on the Florida room. We just bought the house and moved from mosquito-ridden, hot, parched South Carolina to not-mosquito-ridden, hot but cooled by breezes, sometimes rainy Pennsylvania, and I love being outdoors. Sat at the glass-topped table that used to be in my mother’s kitchen for so many years. She’s gone now, but the wrought-metal table is here, and the cushions were just reupholstered.
I’m building Web pages that consist of annotations to literary and other obscure references to Dorothy L. Sayer’s “Gaudy Night,” while my 2- and 4-year-olds (who know nothing of the WTC) are happily running their tricycles up and down the room. Although they’re about 18-months apart, the younger boy is only an inch shorter than the older girl. I look at them and think again how lucky they are. They have each other. They squabble and fight and make up. She’ll always be the older sister, so she’ll have some authority, while Markie’s got the solid build of a future linebacker, and if they stay together, they’ll have each other’s back after their mom and I are gone. And I’m moving about passages from Shakespeare, Marlowe, the Bible, building little isles of knowledge so that someone reading “Gaudy Night” and wondering who Prometheus was can go to my Web site and read a passage from Plato that might shed a little light where none was before. Yep, I’m a helluva optimist all right. Deluded, too. But I do it anyway.
And still my children laugh and play and grow, and I get to be here to see it all. Lucky me.
pesch, I want the URL when you’re finished. My whole family are(is?) Sayers fans.
I’ve found a new way to mess with my cats. When they aren’t looking, I give a low two-tone whistle. They perk up, look around, then turn and glare at me, as if to say accusingly, “Did you do that?”
I used to have my work uniforms cleaned by the supplier. But I wasn’t happy with the way they did them, so now I wash them myself.
Well, when I used to have to bring them back to the office, I’d fold them up at the end of the day and make a neat pile of them on the floor in front of the clothes hamper in my bedroom. And the cat always used to lie on them and nap. It got to be a joke around here.
But since I’m laundering them at home, Mrs. Dave-Guy decided that she would buy a separate laundry bag for them. Fine. I keep it on the floor behind the bedroom door. So what do I find the other afternoon? The cat napping on the laundry bag. What the heck is with her anyway?
On a personal note, Persphone, you’re a dear heart and an ever-lovin’ doll. Thanks for starting this thread, and for being a cool chick in the bargain.
To paraphrase Jack Nicolson, “I am using the word, ‘hate’ hear about the dentist.”
Now, I don’t actually hate the actual dentists themselves. I mean, I’m sure most of them are nice enough guys. What I am talking about is the whole institution and experience of “The Dentist.”
You sit in a chair, lying on your back.
You have an obscenely bright blinding light shown on your face.
You then allow, for up to an hour, some maniac with metal utensils to poke and prod inside your own mouth, all the while causing you to gag, and then he has the audacity to suck your spit out.
Then he sticks in his little X-Ray doohikeys that have sharp edges and bury themselves inside your cheeks.
Then he makes you bite down on the floride strips, that taste so bad (I have tried every “flavor,” and they are all awful) that they make me heave.
Thanks, Dave. And while I’m at it, how’s the terminally hip Sakura doing lately? And why make a pile of your uniforms in front of the laundry hamper? Why not in the laundry hamper? Or would the cat climb in there as well?
pesch: My daughter is four, and I’ve also got a son who is on the brink of age two (he’ll be two in three weeks). I whole-heartedly agree with the “cuteness as self-protection” theory. I don’t refer to my kids as Dianasaurus Rex and Johnzilla for nothing. They came by those names honestly. :eek:
friedo: Gee, the hygienist that worked on my teeth seemed like a nice enough lady. I’ll ask next time. or is it bad form to ask maniacs if they’re actually maniacs?
The terminally hip Sakura is busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest right now. Has been since around Christmas. She be a junior in hi skule and has a monstrous work load (her books weigh more than she does). But such is the life of an honor student. She reads the Board over my shoulder, and we laugh and comment on stuff. Then I tell her to get back and post something, but she never does, the rotten kid. Maybe if she hears you axed about her, she’ll do it.
And I keep my uniforms separate from the other laundry because I work with pesticides and want to avoid any contamination. Of course, when the cat was lying on my uniforms, she could have become contaminated, but hey.
Dave Dude, the cat likes the smell of your uniforms. Either 1) the cat likes you and therefore the smell of your uniforms, or 2) the cat likes the smell of some of the chemicals you use. (My cat goes crazy licking and chewing my fingers if I’ve used a bleach-based cleaner.)
Dave: I thought about that last night. I remembered that my ex-boyfriend was an auto mechanic and used to separate his uniforms, because he didn’t want to mess anything else up.
But you do seem to be taking a fairly casual approach to the cat/pesticide thing…
I gave my puppy a bath. I didn’t mean to actually, but he had had a bit of, um, [sup][sub]diarrhea[/sup][/sub], and his butt was, well, pooey. I only meant to rinse his butt off a little, but he wiggled around so much that he (and I) were already soaking so I figured I might as well get him nice and clean while I was at it. He didn’t enjoy it very much, and I had to work like a maniac to stop from laughing. You see, he’s got a really fluffy coat, and when wet, he looked pretty much like a rat.
But the funniest part came after, when he was running around the apartment like a maniac, trying to get dry. I kept trying to dry him with the hairdryer, but he refused. The clean fluffiness of his fur lasted about 24 hours, until he happily ran out in the rain and jumped in a couple of puddles. Oh, well…
Yeah, I felt the same way. After spending five days basically attached to my CNN, I turned it off and spent nearly an hour cleaning my bathroom. I was extremely thorough. I bleached the toilet, the bathtub, and the sink. I scrubbed down the shower walls. I swept and mopped the floors. I changed the burned-out lightbulbs over the vanity mirror. I even got down on my hands and knees with a sponge to scrub that no-man’s-land behind the toilet.
My bathroom looks much better. Now I’m starting on the library. I bought a new bookcase and assembled it, got all the homeless books off the floor and onto the new bookcase. Now I’ll throw away the trash and vacuum the floor.
Rick (Age 3, Alias: “Chaos”) and Deirdre (Age 2, Nickname: “Didi” Alias: “Destruction”) have been running back and forth in our living room, screaming like banshees. They’ll stop, gasp for breath and laugh, then start back up.
Their other routine of the day is to run around the interior of the house. You can make a nice lap, and they do.
I have cleaned up the bathroom and kitchen, and eaten a bowl of soup. I’m also IM’ing my wonderful wife at work.
Trouble, you’re probably right. I noticed the cat sometimes would lick the underarms of my shirts, which obviously have the heaviest concentration of perspiration on them. Also, since I service commercial buildings I’m sometimes kneeling on restaurant floors or otherwise getting kitchen grease here and there. It might smell like dinner to her!
I can’t say I’m really concerned about any kind of contamination, when all is said and done. I honestly don’t get exposed to too much pesticide during the course of the day, and neither do my clothes. I’m not terribly worried.
Just went clothes shopping for the Dianasaur. She starts preschool tomorrow. Due to scheduling conflicts and the fact that we only have one vehicle, this is the first time I’ve been out (except to go to work & the dentist) this week.
Had to get the girl some jeans. Buying pants for her is always a problem. She’s about a 4T in length, but I swear she’s only a 24 month, maybe 2T waist, and they just don’t make belts that small. Gonna have to tie a rope around her waist or something. Otherwise, she’ll end up with her pants around her ankles in gym tomorrow (not like she’ll care, though).
Saint Zero: I know that running-back-and-forth-screaming-and-laughing thing. Oh yeah. They won’t grow out of it any time soon. Trust me.
I want to go shopping.
I need jeans. I am going to need sneakers in a month or two, and am trying to think ahead so I’m not left shoeless in November. I could really use some cookware (a pot, a cookie sheet, a wooden spoon, a spatula). I want entertainment - books, videos.
There is no mall here. I have no car to get to the mall, if there was one.
I’m stuck in my dorm room in East Butthole, Mississippi and I can’t get out!!!
I’ve made a wish list of everything I want (with links to website where they can be purchased) and emailed it to my parents. Since they’re not paying my tuition, I figure they can well afford to pay for everything else.
I also have no overhead light and no refrigerator - both broke on Friday, and maintenance hasn’t come to fix them yet. Of course the refrigerator broke right after I’d done all my grocery shopping, so a half gallon of milk and some chicken are now spoilt.
Let me repeat…
I’m stuck in my dorm room in the dark with no fridge in East Butthole, Mississippi and I can’t get out!!!
