My online journal.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Out of my way, sports posse!
Here's the haircut.
So for dinner tonight I made Nicole Watson's Pot Roast and Jessica Seinfeld's Mac & Cheese. Both were phenomenally tasty and as soon as I get permission from the former I will post both recipes! (Jessica Seinfeld never returns my calls anymore.) :) :) :)
I forgot to mention earlier that the other morning Joel was leaving for work and just as he walked out the door, Ed shouted: "A careful! A ice!"
Lucy has become obsessively protective about her toys. We had some firemen in the house this evening (our CO2 detector was beeping during dinner, and it says to call 911 so I did! For the first time ever! I was super nervous! And they sent a GIANT fire truck with four completely unattractive fire fighters! And the kids got to sit up in the truck for about half an hour and it was the coolest thing ever! And Ed keeps saying "A fire truck! A fire ENgine!") and the fireman spent the better part of 30 minutes waving his little hand-held CO2 detector around the various levels of our house. When he left, Lucy saw his little detector in his hand and the instant he was out the door, she cried "HE STOLE MY TOY! HE TOOK OUR TOY!!!" And Joel and I quickly calmed her down, reassuring her that it was the fireman's own toy, but she remained suspicious because, as a rule, grownups do not carry small toys around in their hands, Eddie-style, except for cell phones and keys and wallets and iPods and tape measures and really, I can't figure out why she was so confused.
I'm feeling like I'm going to be crashing hard from creative-outlet withdrawal, now that my show's essentially over. I was reading Shauna Niequist's book Cold Tangerines last night -- a really lovely book; I highly recommend it -- and I came across a passage that I swear I have written (not word-for-word or anything, but the concept was identical) in this very blog. It was about how when you work for a living, people occasionally give you compliments and pats on the back, but how when you stay home with the kids, they don't ever thank you for wiping their butts. WAIT! I didn't write it here -- I wrote it as a comment on Michelle's blog. I can't believe I remembered that. Anyway, reading a published author with my same thoughts made me feel very impotent and pathetic because I CRAVE to be an Actual Writer but to do that I would actually have to Write something (or at least, that's what I'm told) and, like, I can't even barely put together a decent household to-do list.
And with nothing to choreograph on the horizon... no dance classes to take, no show to be in... well I guess I'm desperately hoping that two hours of softball a week will fill the void. Maybe.