robot•jumping•rope

progress has been made on every front.

the birthday was excellent. after a big day at school (there was a play! she had a line! every kid was supposed to wear white shirts and jeans and she came to school in a fuschia dress! i pretty much rock as a mom!) and dinner of her choosing (plain buttered spaghetti and cottage cheese. yeah, i know. you should have heard the husband and me suggesting other possibilities - “Greek food - you like pita, right?” and “How about pizza?” “The all-you-can-eat chip bar at Don Chilito’s sounds good, doesn’t it?” but the girl knows her own mind, so there we sat eating what we already have at least twice a week.) then a flurry of excitement over the small gifts that (gulp) make her look so on-the-way to growing up. a new watch (indiglo!) on that pale, thin little wrist, a sparkly vintage Helly Kitty tee (i so want one).

i am such a cliché, but i get mistier at every birthday. and to think i used to make fun of my Aunt B. for crying through Hallmark commercials and Little House episodes. take it from the chick who mocked sentimentality for decades: all that sarcasm comes back to bite you on the keister. hard.

the pencil rolls for tonight’s party are nearly finished. a trip to the fabric Box Store was made yesterday for bias tape and batting (because i must always do things the hard way, lori) and some baby soft brown and turquoise corduroy may have leapt into my cart. and a few patterns. but that’s it, i swear.

yet to make the cake (from a box, of course. the last from-scratch cake i made was for the oldest son’s first birthday party, some banana/walnut/cream cheese confection that was 5 layers high and had me feeling very Martha-smug for about a month, or until i found out i was pregnant with baby number two) so that’s up this morning. in fact, they’re reading the box right now and asking me who Betty Crocker is, so i’d better skedaddle.

and so i exit nablopomo with a whimper and not a bang. it’s been fun and i’m glad you’ve been around to share. as previously discussed, i am up for making changes. please note the conversational tone and mundane-heavy content of this post.

see ya ’round, my sweets.

xxxx,

me

one must sometimes delve far into the archives of unworthy drafts, breathe deeply and hit the publish button.

can’t remember where i saw this one, but please play along if you wish.

still wincing a little about yesterday’s whining confessional. thanks for your thoughts on all the things that fell out of my head that weren’t quite ready for public inspection. it means a lot to hear that others have some of the same misgivings, the same struggles with boundaries and self-awareness (man do i sound like oprah or WHAT?) and so i appreciate the comments, especially the advice to stop constantly self-editing, ’cause that’s the key to blog-fatigue for this girl. and blogging should be fun, not tiring, right?

oh, and also, last night i dreamed the heavens opened and a giant disco ball lowered itself and a voice just like Samuel L. Jackson’s said “buck up, little camper, and stop worrying about your life: just live it.”

so after this month a wee break to recover and then we’ll see about how and when to continue here. oh and you know i’m not going to go anywhere. i’d go crazy without you. xxxx

• • •

If your life were a soundtrack, what would the music be?

Here’s how it works:
1. open your library (iTunes, winamp, media player, iPod)
2. put it on shuffle
3. press play
4. for every question, type the song that’s playing
5. new question — press the next button
6. don’t lie and try to pretend you’re cool

opening credits:
“Blind River” by Alice Despard Group

(yep, I’d say that’s about right)

waking up:
“Longwall” by Early Day Miners

first day at school:
“If You Fall” by Azure Ray

falling in love:
“Believe Me” by Holly Golightly

breaking up:
“Bullhorn Moon” by Tara Jane O’Neill

prom:
“London Calling” by the Clash
(weird. my h.s. boyfriend dumped me on prom night. years later he called me from an English pub (he went to Oxford. ahem.), drunk as a skunk, to apologize.)

life’s okay:
“Superboy and Supergirl” by Tullycraft
(no kidding, my favorite feel-good song!)

mental breakdown:
“Motion Pictures” by Neil Young

driving:
“Saturday Afternoon Plans” by I Am Robot and Proud

flashback:
“Eleven-Eleven” by Ass Ponys

getting back together:
“Home of the Brave” by Naked Raygun

wedding:
“Straight to Hell” by The Clash
(sheesh, I couldn’t make this stuff up …)

birth of child:
“God Song” by Beth Orton

final battle:
“How the Stars got Crossed” by Radio 4

death scene:
“Afternoon Speaker” by The Sea and Cake

end credits:
“I Deserve Someone Nice” by The No Nos

all atwitter over here as we get ready for the Seventh Birthday of The Middle Child. this is her at right around Three. my cute little hairless girl she was. now there’s more hair, slightly less attitude, and she can read.

pin the tail on the horse, rainbow confetti cake with *shooting stars* (she has such earnest yet misplaced confidence in my frosting skills), a small crafty pursuit of some sort, the ubiquitous goody bags, the !@#$#% pencil rolls i have yet to buy batting for. tonight! tonight! there’s only you tonight!

• • •

and no, i didn’t give up the quest. (sorry love - i’ll be the good girl this time around and you can be my sweet but naughty best friend who has all the fun while i worry about arriving on time to band practice)

but sweet holy cupcakes, you’ve seen my recent posts…is it the better choice to press on with what sometimes amounts to large sums of drivel or to know thyself and pull the plug on a well-intended but exhausting enterprise?

to each her own, i think. and to explain…

now we proceed toward that segment of the program in which she admits grudgingly that this nablopomo thing has indeed been a good idea.

yes, that’s right.

for nearly a month now i’ve stared the Blank Screen of Death in the face and daily wrestled something forth to put on the page. not always erudite, or well-considered, interesting, wordy or topical. but something.

this has been a public journal of sorts for the last 28 days, and honestly pretty uncomfortable. but it’s reminded me that i love to write, that the reason i started this little robot jumping was to communicate about whatever to whomever. there’s this world of online goodness to take in and enjoy and be inspired by, and here’s my little corner to say what i think about it, and what i made for dinner, and what i might be buying tomorrow or how my hair bugs me or how my *homeschool journey* sometimes feels like a shipwreck. basically, anything i want. i mean, how cool is that?

and yet somewhere along the blogging path things got a little weird: i started to compare myself with other bloggers, other mothers, others and their little corners of the internet. things became very blurred - where was the division line between blogging and living? what pictures will i share? which will i keep for just us? what is wrong with me that i look at nearly everything my kids do and think “should i post this?” why do i care so frakking much what people i’ve never even SEEN think of my silly mundane ramblings? am i interesting enough? is that thing i made/painted/found/thrifted/enjoyed worthy of putting up on flickr? will i earn points of favor, get lots of comments or be linked to or spoken of? am i just a freaked out introvert who needs a vacation? inquiring minds want to know.

and sheesh don’t for a second misunderstand me, all that is terrific and nice work if you can get it, and how wonderful when something you’ve created is passed around and copied and admired and hey, go for that etsy marketing to make some cash, i mean it - go girl go. when your pictures delight and inspire, when something you can’t help but say tumbles out and a few other souls Out There get it, get you, commiserate, congratulate, ponder with you. how cool is that?

but it is such a fine little line, and this nagging voice inside my head (probably the same one that comes around poolside in summer to whisper “melanooo-ma”) keeps going on about integrity, and pleasing only me, and doing this little drama for nobody else and at the end of the day who cares if anyone is out there listening, praising, ignoring, commenting, avoiding or oblivious.

maybe you don’t struggle with this. maybe your confidence exceeds mine so much that you’re incredulous at my admissions. good for you, seriously. send me your helpful thoughts. i put far too high a price on approval, and maybe that’s one great reason to get out of this ballgame altogether.

so i’m still working it all out, but nablopomo has done the favor of making me want to try and get back there, back to not giving a hoot about doing this for any other reasons than those i started with: it’s therapeutic, a terrific writing exercise, i’ve met the coolest online girlfriends and local ones i’d never have known otherwise, it keeps me from losing my sanity here in stay-at-home-momland, it keeps me current, and it’s fun. even if nobody was listening.

it’s almost over

we’ll be arriving shortly.

you are free to move about the cabin.

please be careful when removing your belongings from the overhead compartments, as items may have shifted during flight.

and thank you again for choosing nablopomo®.

in love with every one of these, but particularly To the Tune. please inform Santa. thank you.

thrilled that leg-shaving season is officially over. farewell, generic pink disposables rusting in the bottom of the bathroom closet! until April, then!*

a Costco slut®. 3 visits per week and you get a little commemorative badge. i’ll be picking mine up tuesday.**

finding this place so helpful: Unclutterer

mighty old. because not only are the actual Oldies sounding really good to me lately, today in urban outfitters i saw a royal blue vinyl purse, a purple plaid cotton blouse with sparkly threads running through it and red scrunchy ankle boots i SWEAR i threw out or gave away in 1985.

glad the kids finally ate the last of the halloween goodies, because discovering those little shreds of candy wrapper everywhere in the house was starting to push me right over the edge. and by edge, i mean the precipice the tiny lego pieces long ago brought me far nearer than i’d like to be.

still in love with Kelly Clarkson.

a sucker for Anthropologie. they know how to push all of my buttons, with their wee beady eyes fake-vintage frippery and panoply of deliciously pseudo-aged and interestingly devised wonders displayed so perfectly imperfectly. and the clothes. o the clothes. i try to stay away. i really do. but there was a sweater there today - he was navy and cinched in the waist and on CLEARANCE and covered with little multicolored edelweiss flowers and he wanted to come home with me so very much. so i let him. and yes, we still need a new transmission for the car, why do you ask?

tired but happy to have spent the day with a young energetic girlfriend who patiently listens and yea even giggles at my old fart-ramblings-on about all the wacky 80’s stuff at urban outfitters and makes fun of people at Starbucks with me and drives me around in her cool car in the sunshine and gets the same buzz as me in anthropologie and who lets me blame her when i tell the husband i bought new stuff and he gives me the “but we need a new transmission for the car” stink eye.

sitting here in a pair of jeans i patched myself. YES THAT IS RIGHT I USED THE SEWING MACHINE AND LIVED TO TELL IT. ALSO, AND THIS WILL BLOW YOUR MIND working on a skirt and pants-for-loungingness (me) and a dress and jammies (daughter) and some of those pencil rolls people have been making since blogging began but that somehow i have never gotten around to attempting. imagine that. they’re to be party favors for the big 7th birthday we’re hosting here next friday evening, and i’m sure to have them finished by thursday night. *shifty eyes*

pretty sure you know who this guy is:

glad you are still here.

*minus requisite leg-baring interlude for New Year’s Eve.

**we only have one car and i still manage this.

Autumn

One night goes on longer than the rest, never so long,
whiled away. Then dawn.
Goodbye, insects. Hollow casings on the windowsill,
a dainty leg among the spice jars.
Goodbye, marigolds, the earth will not wait for you.
Trains hurtle by at the edge of cities,
the taste of bourbon, a mouthful of leaves.
Above everyone’s dining-table, a chandelier burns.
Now the luxurious old wine can be uncorked,
the slicing of meat and bread, uncorked,
and in the black panes life goes on.

Roo Borson (again)

i won’t leave it up for long, just to enjoy for a few days.

can you smell the irony?

nothin moving over here except the camera and my fingers on the keyboard and ipod shuffle button. and the husband polishing his shoes. what’s up with that? by the way, i want Carole King singing Way Over Yonder at my funeral.

clear and cold outside, just like i like it. kids alternating between running around doing something wacky with duct tape (i don’t wanna know), drinking hot cocoa and zoning out in front of the Robin Hood dvd. which i didn’t see until i was in college, and isn’t it hilarious?

and did you know you can make sweet kettle corn on top of the stove? just put a little sugar on top of the kernels when they start to sizzle in the oil. lots of salt and some chocolate chips if you have’em. lordy.

so happy do nothing day. unless you’re a Day After Shopper or my friend the retail queen who had to be at work SEVEN A.M. SHARP until who knows when tonight, in which case - go with God. (girlfriend we had way too many of those fancy Williams-Sonoma pomegranate rumtinis you brought over to be working Black Friday.)

xxxxx

me

“HeatnBond® is our friend”

i totally caved.

yep, big fat caver, that’s me.

all set to live easy over here this weekend. stay at home, watch KU and MU duke it out (GO TIGERS) while the husband raketh the yard muttering under his breath about being a football widower, blah blah blah.

but sweet lonely friends called and emailed, and the aforementioned husband whined about no turkey, yada yada yada, so now there’s a fresh organic 12 pounder in my garage. and a pecan pie. and fresh pineapple, oranges, marshmallows and coconut for ambrosia salad. and baby spinach, blue cheese, and candied walnuts in the fridge awaiting hot sweet BACON dressing. and i’m making my mother’s rolls. and sweet holy moses this cranberry relish thing i’m whipping up? the one with the fresh ginger and cinnamon sticks and orange peel and a little port wine? it’s so tart and fabulous. you gotta try it.

bring the wine, i’ll set a place for ya.

you’ve surely figured out by now i rarely see a half-full glass of anything. except wine. or maybe honey mead.

anyways, still no car, and mechanic has no hopes of finding the correct replacement transmission anytime soon, if at all, and to rebuild would cost more and is iffy, as the old one was pretty much trashed. so we’re not making the trek to the in-laws, which makes me sad, a little.

for daily errands my sister has been wonderful about letting us borrow hers, so that’s a positive. i hate being car-dependent but in my old sidewalk-less nabe there’s just no way around it. the single time i took the kids on a walk to the store we almost got plowed over by a large truck, there were numerous unattended dogs along the way (they viciously barked at me and i’m not some dog hating girl), AND the crosswalk signs across a busy through street were broken. i held the baby and we made a run for it. i empathize with the single car family as never before. (the mother in law laughs at my pain, for she drove her husband to and from work during rush hour or stayed housebound for 20 years or something like that.) we are used to getting out every day, even if just for a krispy kreme (you knew it) or coffee. or both. and i never thought i’d miss Target, but i do.

also, my father had exploratory surgery today. he’s 85 and in pretty good health, what with being a lean, mean farming machine who still stays very active (2 years ago i think it was he built my mom’s breakfast room. and painted the huge 2 story house. and fell off the roof of a shed trying to fix the tin. you can’t keep an old dog down, or so they say. but you should definitely try. see above.)

now it is a big deal to have exploratory surgery, i mean, they’re exploring in there, looking around for something, anything amiss. and that something is probably not good, for in my family if one lives long enough one is almost genetically destined to get cancer. no, we don’t even call it the Big C anymore, ’cause it’s far too frequent. i sound like a far-too-pragmatic little frak and even a bit morbid, but sometimes i feel like a ticking time bomb. and have considered testing for the magic gene. but, and perhaps it’s denial, i don’t really want to know. instead i try  to live well healthy, performing all the necessary tricks and praying for the best.

wow, downer huh? we’ll make the best of it all, thanks to the Resident Eternal Optimist (husband) and our daughter, who shows all the signs of being a pollyanna of the highest order even at her tender age.

so it’s the novelty of pizza, beer, pumpkin and pecan pies from Costco (yes, i could cook a turkey but i’m not gonna. saving that for when it’s absolutely necessary. again with the pragmatic.), perhaps a salad, definitely raking some leaves if this weird 72 degree weather continues. (all of this not nearly as exciting as the two times i was heavy with child on this holiday and we were forced into some $50 a head brunch thing that was fabulous in every delicious way. i might have eaten my weight in crabcakes and exotically mushroom’d omelet both times. but i’ll never tell.)

and we’ll think of grampa a lot and hope to share many, many more thanksgivings with him

works for me.

happy tuesday to you all,

me.

here’s what you do:

1) Answer the questions and type into Google image search

2) Post a picture from first results page

• the age you will be on your next birthday

•a place you’d like to visit

•one of your favorite places

•your favorite object

•your favorite food

•your favorite animal

•your favorite color

•name of a past pet

•where you live

•1st grade teacher’s last name

•your middle name

•a bad habit of yours

•your college major

•your favorite holiday

the infinitely cool and unceasingly benevolent ms castanet has tagged me and thereby provided a handy dandy emergency NaBloPoMo post. just what a girl needs on sunday night. besides a glass of smoky chilean red, smashed garlic potatoes, rare roast beast and shaved pecorino on the romaine. but i digress.

ahem.

The Rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.

can do.

2. Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.

oh crap.

a. i can milk a cow with some proficiency, however my mother forbade me to do so after i turned 13, something about boys not wanting to hold my rough hands. oh yes, she really said that.

b. my birthday is the anniversary of several national tragedies, including but not limited to abe lincoln’s death, the sinking of the titanic, and the day the irs demands we turn in those blasted tax forms. completed.

c. i’m an aries, but play well with other aries women. this is very strange.

d. i gained 68 pounds during my last pregnancy.

e. i am freakishly, FREAKISHLY good at tetris. this “skill” translates into a real life ability to pack staggering amounts of crap into the back of the car while the family looks on in wide-eyed horror and just a tinge of misguided pride. good times.

3. Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.

okey dokey:

robin

amy

chara michele

jen

j

4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

sure thing.

5. Don’t break the chain!

i’ve always wanted to write that.

nablopomo = rock

::rubs sore shoulder::

berries from the Farm in a wicker horn? cornucopia? i found in my mother’s antique/flea market/junk seeker’s paradise of a store. it’s so fun to dig through the linens and china and paintings there. this time i found a granny afghan of black background with vivid red and turquoise squares. when i inquired about the price she said “why don’t you just wait and see what santa brings? the old bird is coy and subtle, i’ll give her that.

last visit the husband and i took the scenic path down to a far southwest corner of my father’s acreage looking for bittersweet vines my mother told us were “just on the left, almost to the creek, on the far side of the fence, be watchful of the poison ivy.”

we finally found them (and a family of white tails, and some poison ivy that STILL ITCHES 3 WEEKS LATER - sorry to shout but dude) after 10 minutes of slowly driving up and down the road squinting through the brush, and also a large section of rose hips (glad i brought along the leather gloves and long shears), as well as some long stems of small burgundy berries…don’t know what they are, but aren’t they pretty?

the first year we were married i made a rose hip wreath for my mother-in- law. it was a thorny experience (the making, not the giving) - and she still has it displayed, the berries even darker and more lovely with age

of course it has now become a tradition of sorts that i create some wreath-type lovely for her every other year. last time it was martha’s cranberry version, super duper easy and inexpensive for its pretty factor, i think.

not sure what it will be this go round but i have a magazine clipping in the inspiration file (which really needs to be turned into a board when i have a minute) that is begging me to divine something using fresh bay leaves and green apples. i’ll be sure to show you.

happy weekending - and creating,

me

this is elizabeth, the carolina mantid or Stagmomantis carolina we discovered - and most likely saved from a natural frost-induced death that very evening - on the back deck in early October.

she’s resided in a large glass jar atop the fish tank since that time, eating about 2 crickets (her favorite food - as you can see from the above photo, she prefers to disembowel them, er, “rear first” - and of course i’d say disembowel - what do you expect from a girl whose significant other draws dead bunnies and expects people to hang them above the sofa?) per day (although she does enjoy a quick snack of japanese beetle now and again) and entertaining this household more than you could imagine.

we were unfortunately not in attendance at her early fall (and possibly carnivorous) mating session, although there has been far too much speculation on the nature and outcome of that particular party (did she eat him? and if she did, was it head first? was she full of crickets and so benevolently let him go? and - my favorite - what is mating, mama?). whatever occurred, it was apparently successful, as she has produced 4, yes 4, beautiful egg sacs carefully attached to the sticks we put in the jar. they’ve been placed in separate containers, naturally, for as you probably have guessed, mantids are among the more cannibalistic in the insect underworld.

she once escaped - flew out - and we were shocked because we weren’t sure she could fly with the egg-swollen abdomen she was sporting at the time. we figured that cat had at her or she made it past the screen door the baby can never slide shut, but at the end of the day there she was, clinging to the moulding near the ceiling, probably worrying about the dearth of crickets in our kitchen.

would you believe she’s actually almost cute, with her small triangular head that tilts toward you when you press your nose to the glass. i swear when she was dining the other day the look she gave me was “lady, do you mind? i’m noshing here.”

we don’t know how long she’ll survive into winter, but she’s provided us an opportunity to gather much new information on a common little species we might have otherwise ignored. well done, elizabeth. and thank you.

more here

and great insect photos here

and have you heard of this place?

forget to tell you the husband had a little show and sold half his sketches and paintings.

he’s thinking “people love my stuff!”

i’m thinking “cha ching!”

just kidding. i mean, i love that his stuff sold, and i’m so proud of him. but it’s nice to have a little wad of cash tucked into the *new and better camera* account. oh, and he got some commissions for more prints of his weird little owl dudes. nice work if you can get it.

these two didn’t sell and i’m a little surprised, but secretly happy because this owl on old ledger paper is my favorite and i had it up pronto.

the bunny didn’t sell either. perhaps because it’s called “dying bunny”, which it was: he found it in the yard and sketched it on the spot. but how many people want “dying bunny” on their wall? a bit morbid.

he is cute, though.

when you turn up Appalachian Spring and move the couch.

my mom sent me a dress she’d saved from when i was in 3rd grade. this was probably the girliest thing i’ve ever worn, and that includes my wedding dress. voile, embroidery, lace, pink flowers - it’s the total package.

my daughter loves it.

kick in the pants, memory, don’t you agree?

when i opened the bag and saw this dress i remembered in an instant where i sat in mrs. mcneil’s classroom (alphabetically from the back), that we had coffee cans on our desks to hold trash so we wouldn’t walk up to the front constantly (smart lady that mrs. mcneil), and the blonde frizzy-haired boy named doug who used to knock over my can. everybody said he was *cute* and wanted to kiss me but i couldn’t figure that out at all. boys were gross and why couldn’t he just stop being a meathead? i preferred laughing at the jokes the funny, skinny hazel-eyed boy with freckles who sat next to me kept telling, and was sad when he moved away. (wouldn’t you know, i’ve ended up espoused to a funny, skinny hazel-eyed boy with freckles. life is nutty like that.)

still know the 34 geography definitions we learned that year (and all the prepositions, too), thought i’d never get to the bottom of cursive handwriting, and my dad would work with me every night on my math tables - it was the most patient i’d ever seen him in my life. and mrs. mcneil’s belly got bigger and bigger every week and finally she was gone and then she came back and her hair was different and she seemed tired but she was still very nice.

and in the library there was this book. I’d never loved a book so much, never realized what words could do. that’s when i began to think about being a teacher (and later turned into a high school english sort of one), because everybody had to know that books could change your life, could make you sad or happy or just feel really good and thinky inside. and i was going to make them understand. forcibly if necessary.

pretty bossy thinking for a girl dressed in that floral number.

because i’ve run out of things to say. and because i need to.

for your delectation, my day from top to bottom:

this morning dear husband and i both woke up grumpy because there wasn’t enough coffee and we worked really hard yesterday on the house. then i washed my hair.

later we went to church in my sister’s car because our Honda died and our other car is a truck and you can’t take 3 kids and 2 parents in a truck anywhere anymore because if you do you could get a ticket from a large man called a trooper, except he’s not much of one. and you could also receive stern looks and mouthed reprimands from little old ladies who pass you on the highway because you have your children in such a position because your car died right on the friggin freeway and you barely coasted into the Taco Bell off the (thankfully downhill) exit because your transmission decided that really was the best moment to go toes up. because your kid needing braces because his overbite is “quite something”, and i quote the good orthodontist here, isn’t really enough to warrant true worries about the cash in your ING account. no, it must be 2 costly catastrophes. then you can worry, sister.

this afternoon i went to a clothing store because i had to return an unfortunate purse purchase (pleather doesn’t like me), and while there decided to try on a pair of jeans in a size that usually fit. they didn’t fit. because i am a sicko glutton for punishment i tried on another pair (different brands fit differently YOU KNOW). no dice. because i slip into denial faster than britney can run a stoplight i immediately bought myself a donut. nothing like nestling into your own cozy little hell of sedentary backlash.

then i bought pizza for dinner. oh yes.

tonight we made up. and had people over because that’s what we do every once in a while. we ate pumpkin goodness because my friend brought batter because her oven died yesterday and she didn’t want to throw out good batter. and i was still in denial about those unkind hours with The Denim. we ate lots and lots, because it was good. and drank copious amounts of coffee because that’s what we call fun when you’re a grown up and because caffeine has little or no effect on us anymore. even after 9p.m. i can’t decide whether that is a good thing or a frightening thing.

right now i’m half-watching a thing on PBS about Ursula von Rydingsvard (don’t you just love the name Ursula? i like Electra, too. and Cadence - Cady for short) because she’s the sculptor of my favorite outdoor piece at the fabulous museum where i live. and i’m getting ready to plan for school tomorrow because it’s a big day. we’re getting ready to meet King Alfred, or, Alfred the Great as we’ll know him at first, because he hasn’t yet banished enough Vikings to become king. and then on through the english monarchy. and away we go. so it’s off to my pilot pen and big fat notebook full of plans involving proper nouns and subtraction and cursive and long vowel sounds because these are the things that combine to create a complete education, or so i’ve heard. oh, and Alfred.

good night? yes, it was, because it just was. hope yours was too.

see you tomorrow, friends.