Working Hard or Hardly Working?

Must...get...through...this...week.

Seriously, I have spent these last few weeks engaged in the most complex and advanced methods of procrastination, and I'm completely exhausted. Avoiding work can be way more tiring than actually doing it. It's certainly more of a challenge:)

Aargh. I can't wait till finals are over!

I'll be back next week-If I survive the stress that comes along with having absolutely no work ethic to speak of:)

From the Mixed-Up Files of Morah Madd Hatter

Child 1: Here. I made you some chicken soup.

Me: Siiip. Mmmmm, yummy. Thank you so much.

Child 1: Here. I made chicken nuggets.

Me: Hmmm. This looks suspiciously similar to the chicken soup I just had...

Child 1: Here. *shoves pot forward into my face*

Me: *chewing noise* Mmmm. That's delicious. Thank you so much.

Child 2: WHO'S SICK? WHO'S SICK? WHO'S SICK? WHO'S SICK? WHO'S SI-

Me: I'm not feeling so well. Are you the doctor?

Child 2: Yes. I have to make you feel better. *smashes elephant head somewhere near the region of my heart, but closer to stomache* K. You're all better. *Walks off, looking for next victim, um, patient*

Child 3: I have a clementine for lunch. My mommy gave me a clementine.

Child 4: Nu-uh.

Child 3: Yeah, she did.

CHild 4: Nu-uh. Nu-uh. It's...*breaks out into slightly off tune rendition of My Darling Clementine*

Child 5: I'm frisky.

Me: You're what!?

Child 5: I'm frisky.

Me: Um, what does that mean? To you anyway.

Child 5: *pats throat* I'm frisky.

Me: Thirsty? You want a drink?

Child 5: Yes, I'm frisky.

Me: Hold on, I'll give you some water.

Child 6: Look what I made!

Me: Wow, that's beautiful. What is it?

Child 6: *looks at it in puzzlement*

Me: Is it an airplane? What a great airplane! Good job!

Child 6: *smiles shyly with satisfaction*

Child 7: *leaning on my knee* What are you doing?

Me: I'm contemplating a particularly difficult philosophical problem.

Child 7: *still leaning* what are you doing?

Me: I'm cutting.

Child 7:Why?

Me: For the project.

Child 7: Oh. *giggles*


I spent the last two days taking over as Morah for my mom's playgroup. The grey stiped folding chair became my thrown, the sheet of smiley face stickers my sceptre. The above is an accurate transcription of most of the dialogue which occurred between me and my cuties during a portion of their free play. Those of you who have had experience as lord and master over a group of three yr. olds will know exactly what I'm talking about. The rest of you...

Sleepless

CANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANT
SLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEP
CANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANTSLEEPCANT...

I really hate it when I can't fall asleep.

Considering the Inconsiderate

Earlier today, I left a scathing note on some one's windshield. It wasn't pretty. The crime: daring to park their car smack in the middle of the right hand lane on the service road to the Van Wyck. There it rested, nonchalantly with its student driver bumper sticker on the rear fender and a For Sale sign in the window taunting me as I contemplated the traffic jam that was ensuing as a result. Okay, fine, I never actually left the note, but, oh, how I wanted to. I spent the remainder of my drive composing one and imagining how I'd hand deliver it directly to the owner's right eye. Which is weird, because I'm not a violent person. I generally go out of my way to avoid a confrontation.

And I wonder. Why does a little inconvenience like that get me so incensed? I don't have an anger problem-far from it. I let much bigger things roll right off on a regular basis. It's just that the insensitivity of others really makes me go crazy; double parking, talking at someone else's chupah, blocking a driveway, leaving a full cart in the front of a line while you go shop for twenty more items, anything that inconveniences others for the sole purpose of making the life of the one doing it a little easier.

I don't like to think about it too much, because if I do, I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll end up coming to the obvious, if unpleasant conclusion. Perhaps, it bothers me to such an irrational extent because it's a flaw I unconsciously recognize in myself. I pride myself on being open and honest and Ive been prizing it, for the most part, above the sensitivities and feelings of others. That's so wrong. How quickly I've forgotten my dislike and disgust when I used to come face to face with a 'blunt' person. Blunt is just another way of saying open and honest at the expense of others.

It all got me thinking about a conversation I recently had with a friend. I confidently declared it unnecessary to hold back or hide anything from a friend even if it might hurt or inconvenience. "Isn't that what friends are for?", I (stupidly) queried. I can't believe I said that now. I can't believe I've become that person. Someone who alienates other people, because she doesn't know when to let it out, and when to keep it to herself. Not every thought has to be shared. Not every opinion has to be told. It's a lesson I'm trying to learn, and I hope I do so, quickly. And so, to my friend, I know we agreed to disagree, but I'm going to have to break our agreement and side with you.

An Understanding of Sorts

My mother does not understand. She really doesn't. She cannot understand why I do not hesitate to eat crumbly food over a recently vacuumed floor.

I do not understand my mother. I really don't. I cannot understand why the sight of crumbs on a recently vacuumed floor tortures her as it does.

And so, over time, we've come to a sort of understanding that we will never understand each other:)

Bernard The Polar Bear

Ahh...to be free:)





And, in conjunction with a very inspiring post by Corner Point, here's another example of perseverance paying off, with a little twist:)

Dead Rats And Day-Old Socks

The putrid scent wafted up my nose as I sat at my computer doing very important things. When I could ignore it no longer (about 10 seconds. I have a low stink tolerance), I cautiously crept downstairs to investigate, my heart beating steadily but much too loudly as I imagined all sorts of horrors awaiting me. Images of dead rats and boiling day-old socks filled my mind. As it turned out, I wasn't that far off.

The smell seemed to be emanating from the lone, and innocent looking pot on the stove. Mindful of the potential danger involved, I carefully lifted the lid to reveal an oozing, bubbling substance not unlike what boiling day-old socks would produce. The pieces floating around on top of said liquid resembled nothing so much as little dead rats. Feeling like a witch at her cauldron, I looked down with dismay at the results of my latest culinary attempt.

Several hours earlier...

Inspired by RaggedyMom's attempt at soup making...okay, that's not actually true. I was really inspired by my latest dieting attempt. I figure lots of vegetable soup is bound to lead to lots of weight loss. Somewhat faulty logic as it neglects the many bowls of pasta in between the many bowls of soup, but I digress...

Inspired by something, I went straight from school on a vegetable shopping spree, which is about as exhilirating as it sounds. Breezing through the door, laden with packages of greeny goodness, I unpacked, and got to work. Many minutes of arduous cutting and chopping, and a great many tears later(those onions are brutal!), I was the proud owner of one bubbling, boiling, pot filled to the brim with wholesomeness. Ooh...I forgot the spices. Well, many minutes of chopping, a great many tears, and several off-the-cuff spice additions later, I surveyed my stove top masterpiece. What now...ah yes, I needed to let it simmer. Not one to waste a moment, I immediately headed for my fave pastime, blogging. After making the rounds in blogland, checking my e-mail, and taking care of several other computery stuff, I began to notice a putrid smell...

The present...

And so here I am, with a pot that contains what looks remarkably like the remains of some one's meal after it's been digested, and not sure what to do with it. Do I toss it in the garbage and risk major leakage? Do I throw it down the drain and risk major stuffage? Do I Fed-ex it to the starving children in Africa and risk severe political ramifications? What to do, what to do. I could always dump it in my backyard and claim it as a hazardous waste area.

I'm still not sure, but I would appreciate any and all suggestions. What does one do with a pot full of an inedible, and possibly toxic substance composed of gunky liquid with many sizable solid chunks floating around in it? E-mail you're suggestions to IHAVENOLIFE@blogland.com or just leave them in the comments:)

A Meme All About Me:)

When I first saw a post containing the word meme, I was reminded of Monty Python's knights of Nee (say that last word short and fast and through your nose to get it right). My mind works in strange ways. Then of course, being me, I wanted to know what the word meant, and when no one seemed to know, I turned to the dictionary to see what it had to say. It was uncharacteristically silent, and so I turned to Google. There were many definitions that popped up, but the one that made the most sense within the context of my own particular situation was the following, courtesy of this site:

"Meme: an idea, project, statement or even a question that is posted by one blog and responded to by other blogs. Although the term encompasses much of the natural flow of communication in the Blogosphere, there are active bloggers and blog sites that are dedicated to the creation of memes on a regular basis"

I didn't really find it very enlightening, or nearly as interesting as I had hoped it would be, but you may judge for yourselves:)


Anyhoo...I was tagged by Corner Point on the following meme, and so here it is:

Rules:
1. Link to your tagger and post the rules.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself; some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post and list their names and link to them.
4. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment at their blog.

Here are my seven facts, as they pop into my head, in no particular order. I apologize in advance if they are not random or weird enough, but there is only so much time I'm willing to spend on this. If you really want weird, you have to take the time to get to know me:)


1)I don't like to eat hot or spicy food. I like my food warm or room temperature.

2)I'm a little bit talented at everything without being exceptional at anything. I can paint a little, dance a little, sing a little, cook and bake a little, etc.

3)I love raw salmon. Not just sushi, but big pieces of raw salmon on their own. I think it's called sashimi. It actually makes sense as the "what animal would you be" test results say I'm an otter. Go figure.

4)If I could marry pasta, and form a lasting attachment with it, I would.

5)I hate rain, but I love snow. Plus, my mood is closely linked with the weather. Sunny and clear=happy and positive, Grey and rainy=moody and negative.

6)I pretend to love candy, but sugar actually gives me a headache. I'm much more into cheese and ice-cream-not necessarily together (I never claimed to be normal).

7)Pictures of baby Looney Tunes make me melt and very often elicit a squeal of joy (don't try it, you'll just be disappointed).

I just realized that most of my facts are about food. While this is slightly disturbing, it is not at all surprising:)

I tag Ezzie, Moshe, Chana, and Fudge. Feel free to completely ignore the tag if you like, or if you've just done like twenty-four of these, but if you haven't done one in a while, it's kinda fun. Plus, there's way more than seven weird and random facts about everybody.

'Tis The Season

Ahh...the first snow of the season. The first beautiful, magical blanket of pure white warming us to the bones despite it's freezing temperatures. The crisp bite in the air becomes pleasant instead of threatening with it's soft, fluffy friend accompanying it. All the noises of everyday living are muffled and insulated, giving the world a more peaceful aspect. When I woke up this morning and took a peek outside my window, the scene that greeted my eyes immediately brought to mind the words "walking through a winter wonderland" complete with background music. The song still hasn't left my head, or to be really accurate, those five words haven't. They've been running circles in my brain and, funnily enough, I really don't mind. As soon as I started humming, I felt better, and as long as I kept humming, my mood kept up.