see? I read my comments!

Hm, ~d wants to know why we live here. Hm. In concrete terms it would be because when DrBob finished his Ph.D and we had a new baby and he really, really needed a job, he found it here. His family is also here, and we wanted the kids to know their grandparents and extended family and to have a concept of 'family' that's bigger than just the people in one household.

In more general terms, though, I like it here because it's kind of ... more even. Nobody gets to be Paris Hilton here, but nobody gets to be that homeless veteran who panhandles in the subway station either. Some people have more money than others, but the difference that makes is in your comfort level, not your survival. When you're poor here, it means you don't get to go on vacations or drive a nice car. Poor in America means trying to treat your son's broken arm yourself because you don't have health insurance and can't afford the emergency room fees. Not only do I not want to be in that situation, I don't have a lot of respect for a culture that thinks it's okay for other people to be there. There are some really great things about the U.S., things I miss a whole lot, but um, that is not one of them.

So what this even-ness means for women in the workplace is that we are all in more or less the same boat, and when a solution is found, we will all be able to make use of it - not just the rich and privileged women. There are a lot more options for childcare in the States right now, but the good ones are only for people who can afford them, and I don't think that's fair. And I don't like injustice, even when I benefit from it, which is most of the time.

Did you see Landismom's comment on the 20-hour work week? Man, that is the best idea I've heard in a long time.

Also, I survived another ESL class tonight. I might actually learn not to dread them so, if I can get some lesson-planning fu.

Song du jour of the day? Apropos of nothing, I've just been listening to it recently, The Neville Brothers: A Change is Gonna Come.

more about it

That was actually just a snapshot, because I didn't want to go on and on and on, but the list of laws, traditions, and attitudes that keep women "in their place" here is very, very long.

Questions from cmhl:

what is the rationale behind having the kids get out of school at different times? it seems that that would be a logistical nightmare for the parents!

It is. It's not just different times at different ages, either. In first grade, Ignatz got out at 11:15 except on Fridays, when he got out at 12:15. In second grade, he had two long days and three short. They work up to the 1:00 gradually, and actually, for the first half of this year, he had to go back to school on Mondays from 2:30-4. For art class. The rationale is that Mama's home anyway, all the time, so why would it matter when the kids get home?

do they have after-school care, if there IS a working mother?

There's something called Hort that one single mom I know used in Munich. I think you have to pay for it, though, and as far as I know, it's not available in my town. The other single mom I know simply didn't work until she found another husband. Uh. Actually, "simply" is not the word I want there.

Not everyone is stuck. There are those one or two exceptions that make people say "See? It's not impossible." It's like the Condoleezza Rice thing, oo, look how well Republicans treat Black women! Um, no, just that one.

I do know a mom who works as a translator - from home. And I work. Sort of. I teach one English class a week, that nets me €20 if everybody shows up. I used to be a webmaster, and I did that from home. DrBob hustled that job for me, there's no way they would have hired me if he hadn't nagged them for a year. I work one day a week in Munich, but I only got the job because a friend of DrBob's needed something very specific, and he knew I was qualified because he's known me for ten years. Even so, I couldn't do it without the free unlimited babysitting from the World's Greatest Mother-in-Law. So yeah, some women find ways around the restrictions, but only if we're massively lucky, which I am. And the work I do has earned me pin-money, and kept me with one foot in the labor market (just try finding a job with a 12-year hole in your resumé), but it doesn't add up to a job-job.

I'm looking for a job-job, but those are mostly in Munich. If we move to Munich, we're too far from the mother-in-law, so I could only work part-time. If I only work part-time, we can't afford to live in Munich.

On the other hand. No, not the other hand where it's okay to treat women so shabbily, there's never any excuse for that. I mean the hand that considers the kids. I went to American schools, 8am to 3pm, and I remember hour after hour of pointless busy-work, soul-crushing boredom, social Darwinism on the playground... I'm not sure if all-day school is good for kids. However, not even a part-time job will accommodate a 3-hour school day. Some kind of attempt to find a middle ground would be so nice.

As I understand it, based on a women's studies course I took for my Social Science degree, and reading the occasional newspaper article, the Swedish social model assumes that women want to work just like men, and makes that possible by providing lots and lots of daycare, so you never even have to see your kids awake, if you don't want to. The French model, on the other hand, seems to assume that women want to stay home with their kids, so they basically pay them to do that. The German model appears to make a similar assumption, but addresses it by paying a working man enough to support a housewife and a few kids, which of course falls apart as soon as you put a deadbeat dad in the equation. It's also falling apart on a national scale now, as companies battle for the right to freeze wages, fire workers at will, move operations to more "business-friendly" countries, cut job benefits and refuse to hire people with families.

And the German government is trying like hell to become more business-friendly, while whining about why aren't people having kids and how can we get them to have more kids while taking away their job security and health insurance and blah de blah. Like I said in the last post: DUH!

The Mommy Wars in Germany

So yeah, the thing I've been saying I would write about. An annoying, yet unavoidable and ubiquitous problem. Especially because everyone's all wringing their hands about Germany's falling fertility rates. Well, duh. But then there was an article in Time (the European version), and then Landismom mentioned it, and thus I was reminded of the irksome thing I'd been taking for granted.

The Situation With Women is just part of the daily reality around here, and we all accept it because we have no choice: we have kids, therefore we don't have jobs, aside from selling Avon or Tupperware or something, and this is true throughout Germany. It's not just the second-shift situation that so many American women face, where they have to work so much harder than men. There is so much prejudice here that we don't even have the opportunity to work harder. Employers aren't willing to work around mothers' schedules, which are impossible anyway. Aside from the vast number of arbitrary holidays, kids get out of school at 11 in first grade, at 1 in fifth grade, and they can't legally be home alone until they're 12. That's right. You have a kid, you are basically banned from working for twelve. Years.

Companies have to provide maternity benefits for female employees. They don't have to hire women, though, and many choose not to for just that reason. This is legal here. Many aren't even willing to hire childless women because who knows? She might get pregnant.

And this is what really bugs me, and what isn't being said aloud. Women in Germany, much more than in the States, have to choose between motherhood and a career, yes. But very often that choice is not even in our hands. To choose motherhood, you have to find a man who is willing to support you and some kids. To choose a career, you have to find someone (usually a man) who is willing to hire you. There are fewer and fewer of both kinds of men around, so even women who want to play that game are caught in a double-bind.

So now a government study (referenced here) has come out that says German women are lazy. Apparently we spend less time doing housework than any other women in Europe. Oh cool, that's just what we needed, a rousing game of blame-the-victim.

Yeah, we don't do a lot of housework. We spend a lot of time on leisure activities because we're just killing time. We could be working at job-jobs, you know, outside the house. We're just waiting for someone to give us a chance.

... crickets chirping ...

Hellooooo?

okay...

...I have been writing actually. Technically. I've just been writing stuff like this:

SELECT filename, date FROM Photo WHERE photogID=4 ORDER BY date;
SELECT filename FROM Photo WHERE camID=5;
SELECT filename FROM Photo WHERE kb < 600 AND date > '2004-01-01';
UPDATE Photo SET camID=7 WHERE photogID=3;
DELETE FROM Photo WHERE filename LIKE 'Sundo%';
INSERT INTO PhoComapny (phoCoName, address, city, st, zip) VALUES ('Lightwise','360-5th St','Weed','CA','96094');

Homework. Due Sunday, turned in today. Yeah, you wish you could be as cool as me. Pfff, NOT.

I just found this, and it made me laugh.

So now I need to get tomorrow's lesson planned, and DrBob wants to beat rush hour, and I need him to print out my lesson stuff at the office, so I have maybe four hours to get that done. Last lesson took me, oh, maybe 12 hours to plan, altogether. Best get cracking then, eh?

Did I mention DrBob is leaving for Kalamazoo tomorrow?

Song du jour of the day: The Pixies, Where is my Mind?

just a sec, I'll be right there!

Umm, yes! I'm still alive! Life is kinda...full, and I just haven't had time, exactly. Job + former job + sick husband + school + houseguest = not blogging. Who knew?

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You: incoherent ranting about the German Mommy Wars. I've been thinking about it a lot, but haven't gotten around to writing it down yet.

Song du jour: Bonus Track 1, by Lyle Lovett. It doesn't seem to have a name, how very, um...PoMo.

Sisters of Mercy concert

Well that was really fun! There was so much dry ice you couldn't see more than a few hazy now-you-see-it, now-you-don't silhouettes up there - could've been anybody, really, except that nobody else has a voice like that. But I really enjoyed the show, particularly laughing at the people with cel-phone cameras, taking pictures of the different colors of fog because there really wasn't much else visible onstage. I was also laughing at me, trying to maintain my dour gothy dignity while grinning like a chimpanzee. DrBob was much more dignified, but I bet he didn't have as much fun as I did. Heeee.

Also, I see a business opportunity here. If you could get hold of some rhythm wholesale, I could sell it outside concert venues here in Munich. These people need it desperately, so demand would be huge, especially among skinny girls with big hair and too much eyeliner.

Song du jour of the day: This Corrosion, of course. What else?

the parents meet with the kid's therapist

Eeeerg. Well that was hair-raising. DrBob and I have had numerous conversations about his relationship with Ignatz, and what needs to change (DrBob's answer is always that Ignatz needs to change), and I have been completely unable to get my point across. That is, he hears me, he simply chooses to ignore the possibility that I might be right. So my evil side was quite looking forward to the therapist telling him the same things I've been saying for all these years, to wit: you are an adult and he is a child and it is unrealistic to expect him to do all the work in this relationship. Which she did tell him, today. Hee hee. However. I was not expecting her to do it with me sitting right there. God, I wanted to hide under my chair.

DrBob appears not to have gotten the message yet.

Song du jour of the day is, um, I Don't Want to Grow Up, by Tom Waits.

Yes. I am boring.

Because the DVD-rental place is about to close down, I'm renting DVDs lately. Yesterday there were three: Big Fish, where one character had a fair bit in common with my dad; the Lemony Snicket thing, about some orphans; and De-Lovely, about musicals, of which my mom and I were/are both huge fans. So I didn't actually set out to rent DVDs that would remind me of my dead parents, it just sort of happened that way. And by the end of the day I was um, pretty pensive and not feeling much like writing.

Today no DVDs. Which is stupid, because time is running out! Also, it's not like I did anything else useful today. I did get a phone call from the new webmaster, though, about a problem with uploading new stuff. Tomorrow's the Sisters of Mercy concert (woot!) so I'll be in the city anyway, so I'm going to go see him and help him try to sort it out. It's just too bad I can't be all Schadenfreud-y, though - hah! They need me after all! - because I really like the new webmaster and can't find it in me to wish him any misfortune. Hell, he has my old job, that's misfortune enough right there.

Which is terribly unprofessional of me to say, isn't it? Especially after they already got miffed at me for being um... excessively candid? Remind me not to tell any prospective employers that I blog.

Such a sad, pathetic, half-assed entry. I should be talking about the German mommy wars, since I'm right here in it, but I have to organize my thoughts first. I still have the Newsweek article about it, and have been wanting to point out the key, crucial point that Newsweek missed. And of course I have all kinds of thoughts about how it ties into so many current problems and ultimately points to a single fact: the world's economists desperately need to be lined up and shot. Quick, before they do even more damage.

Or about books! It really is just a weird coincidence, I totally didn't do it on purpose, but right around Easter I read/am reading both "The Big Over Easy" and "The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse." Isn't that weird?

Oh, and we're seeing Ignatz's therapist tomorrow. Should be interesting.

Foggy brain

I can't think anymore. I read three things today which seemed totally unrelated, but seen in the light of eachother, threw up some very interesting connections. But it had to do with the current political situation in the U.S., which is so dense and complicated and rife with assumptions that I don't really have the language to question, that I can't articulate the point I wanted to make, even though I spent most of the evening writing about it. They're here, and here, and here, if you want to try to see what I saw. If you don't want, hey, I understand.

DrBob is an academic, and therefore, basically, a professional arguer. You would think that hanging out with someone like that would be a good way to sharpen your own arguing skills, but it hasn't worked that way for me. My avoidance skills have improved immensely, but my arguing muscles have atrophied. I got in a discussion over Michael Moore with a friend a few weeks ago, and found myself floundering when he started putting words in my mouth - insisting that I was making a point I had no intention of making. I'm so easily confused lately.

Oh yes, and poor DrBob? Look, I'm trying not to be superficial here, but ick. Maybe if he hadn't insisted on showing me his stitches...

Song du jour of the day: Jerk It Out. Caesars.

ho hum

Wow, well I've been really busy, but with all boring stuff like homework. Also, while I was being busy with boring stuff, my house went and got dirty again. Still scratching my head over that one.

I think I'm disoriented because I was really too busy to pay any attention to the holiday, but it happened anyway, with the attendant two weeks' vacation for my kids. Our routine is shot to hell, and all this stuff I've been up to has not fit into any kind of framework, it's just one thing happening after another, which feels chaotic. Especially since I haven't been using my calendar.

DrBob is feeling better, thanks for all your well-wishing. He's feeling a bit too better, if you ask me. He actually wanted to go play soccer yesterday, on the same day as he had surgery. And if you think this is a buncha middle-aged guys tottering around the park at dusk, you're only half-right. Some of them do that, but DrBob comes home every friday with something horrible - a bruised rib last week, about six gashes on his shin the week before where someone with cleats landed on him repeatedly, a hernia last year - for DrBob, soccer is a blood sport. I had a helluva time talking him out of it. And now he's all...um, frisky. He's got a face like a catcher's mitt and he wants to get it on. Jeez. I'm having trouble thinking up diplomatic ways to say 'no effing way'.

that was horrible

but at least it's over now. And DrBob's upper lip is a bit swollen (he looks like a Simpson), so at least there's some humor to be had from the situation.

Now let us pause for a brief interlude of uncontrollable sobbing.

I'll get back to you.

a theme-park and a pity-party

We went to Legoland today! For the last time, because it's kind of a pain in the butt, especially for something you have to drive two hours to get to. We bought year-passes last year, and they're just about to expire so we had to get in one last visit and it was okay. I got a face full of sun, and the kids always remember the having fun bit, and not the standing in line forever bit, so I guess that's a good thing, but it's so dreadfully expensive, and the food is so bad, and the shows are stupid and there are only like seven rides so we've really been-there-done-that. So all right. Enough is enough.
___________________

Okay, do not read past this point. Seriously. I mean it, there is major dental ickiness ahead, and you do not want any part of it. Unless you enjoyed Elemmaciltur's "gross yucky wisdom teeth update" etc. postings, in which case read on. Have a ball. Also, seek therapy.

All right, you've been warned.

DrBob woke up with a toothache Tuesday morning. What it turned out to be, is that when a tooth was removed, 20 years ago, a bit must have been left behind, and now it's infected and will turn into a cyst if it doesn't get fixed. And what he has now is a metal plate in his upper jaw, from which a metal spike extends, and the replacement-tooth is screwed onto that spike. And the infection is up above the plate, so he needs a surgeon to cut his face open to fix it.

Right, so first, anything dental gives me serious heebie-jeebage. I hate anyone messing around with my teeth, cringe at any description of dental squickiness (no, I did not read Elemmaciltur's wisdom teeth posts, and many thanks El for the nice clear titles that enabled me to steer away from what is for me a very touchy subject), I also hate driving, and hate getting up early, and I have to drive him to his 8:00 appointment in Landshut, which is total street-spaghetti, tomorrow morning. And from there we go straight to Munich and work, which means I have to be up and in office drag and ready to go tomorrow at 7:00, cool my heels in a dental surgery office for however long it takes, and then drive to Munich with my drug- and pain-addled husband, whose method of navigating even when he's healthy sounds like this: "Aaaand that's where you should have turned."

Vicarious pain, a case of the creeps, panic, confusion and probably hostility, all before 10 a.m.? I just don't see a down-side here.

oh, should I have clarified that?

In response to the boob-thing, Kelly said

um, what?

Uh, yeah. What, is that not normal? We're at the FIL's birthday party with his five still-living siblings and their assorted wives, and someone comments to my MIL that both her daughters-in-law are so thin. SIL's not there, so all the focus is on me, nd Aunt Leni says I could use another ten pounds, here and here (no I didn't slap her hand away, I was amused), and my MIL says no, her (meaning my) boobs are surprisingly big, given the rest of her, and Aunt Sophie tells me to be glad they're not bigger enough to be a nuisance, and I guess that's where we left it. DrBob seemed to think it was a Bavarian thing, I just figured that relatives get, um, earthier as they age. Hey, I was just glad to be included in the conversation, since I usually don't understand what's going on at all. I think the whole thing was a hoot, and another reason to be glad I married into a big family.

Happy Birthday FIL

After eleven years as Mrs.Dr.Bob, I was finally able to correctly identify all of the FIL's brothers this year. Give me another eleven years, and I'll be able to figure out which wife is whose.

I should really make an effort to learn the wives, since they were the ones talking about my boobs today.

and another thing...

Happy Easter, y'all.

Yes meme, no meme

Um, Thursday: worked, since Friday's a holiday.

Friday: Cleaned the house and then went to see the friends with the new baby, the one I made that stripey-sweater for. Got very little baby face-time, as she decided to be sick for the first time in her whole three weeks of life. Drat.

Saturday: made an ER model for the recipe database. Yes, it took all day. I'm a dork.

So as I have been dull and dutiful, I have no stories for you. Fortunately Kelly tagged me for a meme. Don't know what I'd do without her.

The Rules
1. You can only say YES or NO!
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages you and asks!

Taken a picture naked? Yes
Made out with a member of the same sex? Yes
Danced in front of your mirror? Yes
Told a lie? Yes
Gotten in a car with people you just met? Yes
Been in a fistfight? No
Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back? Yes
Been arrested? No
Left your house without telling your parents? Yes
Ditched school to do something more fun? Yes
Slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? Yes
Seen someone die? Yes
Kissed a picture? Yes
Slept in until 3? Yes
Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? Yes
Played dress up? Yes
Fallen asleep at work/school? Yes
Felt an earthquake? Yes
Touched a snake? No
Ran a red light? No
Had detention? Yes
Been in a car accident? Yes
Pole danced? No
Been lost? Yes
Sang karaoke? No
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? No
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes
Kissed in the rain? Yes
Sang in the shower? Yes
Got your tongue stuck to a pole? No
Ever gone to anywhere partially naked? Yes
Sat on a rooftop? Yes
Played chicken? No
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? No
Been told you're hot by a complete stranger? Yes
Broken a bone? No
Mooned/flashed someone? No
Forgotten someone's name? Yes
Slept naked? Yes
Blacked out from drinking? Yes
Played a prank on someone? No
Felt like killing someone? Yes
Made a parent cry? Yes
Cried over someone? Yes
Had sex more than 5 times in one day? Yes
Had/Have a dog? Yes
Been in a band? No
Drank 25 sodas in a day? No
Shot a gun? No

So how'd it go?

Okay, the word for the day is scalable. That means that the lessons I plan should still work okay even if only two students show up. Use it in a sentence: Today's lesson was not scalable.

Yeah. Two students.

Okay okay okay, Two were out sick, and it is Easter vacation, and one is unable to make Wednesdays. We are negotiating to move it to Tuesdays.

Song du jour? Oh, I don't know, something e-e-evilll...

Rockin' good news

So my friend Melanie (who has like a million degrees and certificates in Dealing With Kids Who Have Trouble Behaving) read that post about Ignatz suddenly recovering from an eleven-year ADD jag, and emailed me this:

So, I have a theory. He's 12? 11? Fascinating brain stuff usually happens at that age, including an increased ability to process info (more info at once and faster) AND an increased ability to screen out extraneous crap and focus on what you need to think about. Perhaps the balance just tipped, ie. his brain development caught up with his attention problems. You know all this already, but it was on my mind. Wondering also if he ever came up with an explanation for the change, if so what? I will be really surprised if he could explain it, but if he could - how fascinating!

No, he couldn't explain it, but even so, how totally does that theory WOCK? So that's the one I've decided to go with, because that would mean it's a permanent change, which woot!

Also, I'm teaching again tonight. Someday that thought won't make me panic, right? Please?

Oh, song (virus) du jour of the day: Stay, by Lisa Loeb.

Birthday shout-out!

Everybody go over and give a big ol' birthday SMOOCH to Kelly, who thinks she's turning 34, or maybe 35 ... she's not sure which birthday it is, but it's definitely today! Woot! Happy birthday babe! (Okay, now watch me turn out to have gotten the day wrong, how embarrassing would that be?)

Song du jour of the day, totally ganked from Raindog's blog: Happy Birthday to Me, by the Vandals. Only don't read all the words, okay?

Oh! Also...

I was over at Bumblebee Sweet Potato today - this is one of the blogs I read because I wish I could write like that, and also because I think I might could write like that if I just put more time and thought into it, which means maybe someday I will. When I don't have to hustle so much, like. Not only that, I really, really admire her politics, especially how she gets out there and lives them instead of staying home and thinking them and making excuses, which is what I do.

So anyway, she has this entry called "why we write", which mentions teenage journals and which prompted me to comment that reading my teenage journals makes me cringe. That's exactly the word I used, cringe. And then, almost the next thing I did (the very next thing was to go to Crouching Mommy, Hidden Laundry and see that there was nothing new since yesterday, but the next thing I did after that) was find this via Dooce, and lo! There in the sidebar! The very. same. word.

Perhaps the universe speaks to us through coincidences. Maybe, instead of boring you with Eurovision trivia, I should out some of my teenaged self-absorption (it really is a miracle, and possibly proof of the existence of God, that I didn't actually implode - that's how self-absorbed I was) for you all to laugh at. Hm.

Or maybe I'll just pretend that the mildew ate my journals, since they've been stored in the basement for three years. Actually, I haven't looked at them lately, so that could be true.

monday monday

Cool! Tony's reviewed one of my current favorite bands! And they're touring the States! Robert and I saw them in Munich in January and they were great. Do go see them if you get the chance. And, you know, if you like shouty-punk.

So of course, the song du jour of the day is Art Brut's Good Weekend ("I've seen her naked TWICE!"). Drat these frames and flashes and whatnot, I can't link directly to it, but if you click on "Releases" at the bottom of the screen and then click the play button, you can hear it.

In other news, I'm supposed to be planning my next English class (our theme will be Cars - I'm hoping to spark a discussion around an email I received on rising gas prices in the U.S.) and it needed to be today so that DrBob could print out the class materials at the office for me. Except his University-supplied computer (remind me to rant about German universities and computers one of these days) is having Issues, so I get another day to freak out over this. Um, yay?

absent

Hi all. Worked all day Friday and brought home a houseguest, so I'll be pretty scarce this weekend. Look for me on Monday.

Song du jour of the day is Tom Waits's Tango Till They're Sore. They take apart their nightmares and they leave them by the door...

more meme-itude

Oh, right! When I can't think of anything to write about, I meme! How could I forget?

Thirteen Things I should be doing instead of blogging
1. Get off my butt and exercise.
2. Finish my week 2 homework.
3. Do the reading for week 2.
4. Do the reading for week 1.
5. Plan next week's English lesson.
6. Train giant bats to fetch things for me.
7. Clean off my desk.
8. Set everything out for tomorrow so I don't spend the morning rushing around like a lunatic
9. Get the winter stuff back out. I put it away on the first warm day, and then it snowed again.
10. Wash my hair.
11. Get to work on the recipe database I promised Kelly a month or so ago.
12. Get to work on the publications database I promised DrBob over a year ago.
13. Mend a bunch of Ignatz's old jeans before they're too small for the Sniglet.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

via the Goober Queen

boring. sorry.

Well, today would be the day where I restore perspective on the whole English class thing, and point out that I didn't get hit by a bus so it could be worse and all that. But I'm still feeling crappy so instead I'm doing my infuriating homework.

A major part of our parenting philosophy when the boys were babies was "He's crying anyway". Which means that when they had tantrums we'd take the opportunity to do some hated but necessary task like toothbrushing, hair washing, nail clipping, or whatever, because why ruin a good mood? Pretty clever, huh? And that's not even one of the Top Ten reasons we are rotten parents, it's probably down around number 16. Anyway, taking off my Hypocrite Mama hat today to apply the same philosophy to myself: as long as I feel like hell anyway, I might as well get one useful thing...um, a little closer to done.

And that's about all. Ho-hum.

Song du jour of the day: R.E.M. What's the Frequency Kenneth?

It's all about the hate today

Normally I don't post on the first day of my period because I never have anything positive to say. Everything hurts and I feel like shit, tra-la-la. But today was also my first English conversation class, which I feel was a disaster, because I ran out of stuff to do before the time was up. The students didn't notice (or perhaps they were just too polite to say so - they're Bavarians, not Germans) because I managed to vamp for 15 minutes by asking getting-to-know-you questions, but that is not a tactic that will work for more than three classes or so. And I think I'll have to teach more than that. Once a week until we move away? Yeah, that's more than three.

Also? It snowed today.

So today's song du jour of the crappy day should be Let the Cool Goddess Rust Away, by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Because feh.

Ignatz. Ritalin.

Ummm, turns out, not so much. Can't think why I haven't posted about this, because I've talked to several people about it, but he's gotten...better. Somehow. For the last oh, five or six weeks he's been nicer to his brother, doesn't lose things as often, doesn't scream about having to do chores, doesn't forget stuff...as much. There've been no letters or phone calls from exasperated teachers. I mean, he's still disorganized or forgetful or grouchy from time to time, but all kids are, sometimes. He's just reduced it to a normal level.

Now, if you don't believe ADHD exists at all, go away. This post is not for you and I'm tired of arguing that point. This was not a hallucination, or just a phase he was going through, or two selfish yuppies unable to cope with a kid acting like a kid. He was a weird kid from birth, and he was weird for eleven years. LOTS of letters home from teachers. Lots of conflict with his parents and brother. Lots of weirdness in his friendships, lots of bizarre little habits. Daily or weekly incidents, somewhat-normal behavior but with abnormal frequency. We got him diagnosed at a clinic, even got our insurance to agree that there was a problem. There really was a problem.

And now? Poof. It's gone. And I'm...not sure how to feel about that. I mean, yay! This is so great! He's doing better! Not perfect, but really better, and I'm very proud of him. But we don't know why, so we have no idea how long it will last. I've asked him, and he doesn't know why either. We can't identify any kind of triggering incident or anything. So, um, happy! But also apprehensive. A bit.

So now there's no point to trying the Ritalin, because the behavior he's showing now is exactly my best-case-for-Ritalin scenario, wherein he keeps his personality intact but just has his shit together a little better. If we gave it to him now, how would we even know if it worked?

Today's song du jour of the day, then, is in honor of my brilliant firstborn: Aerosmith. Amazing.

Mild irk

I don't think sports is necessarily a guy-thing, though that's how I was raised: Dad and Brother watched televised sports at every opportunity, and Mrs Dad and I read books. I didn't get into sports until I was a grown-up (well, 18), and I'm still not really a big sports-head. I'll watch football, soccer, rugby, basketball or ice hockey anytime they're on, but that's about it. And I just watch, I don't memorize, or even bother to understand, the statistics part. And I was reminded recently (argh, where?) of a point Noam Chomsky made in Manufacturing Consent, how men's ability to memorize sports statistics, and women's ability to keep track of their calorie intake, show that ordinary people can certainly grasp complex ideas and keep track of many tiny details, thus suggesting that economics/politics/globalization/all that crap is not really over our heads, as Those In Charge prefer to pretend.

Anyway. A small digression there. I agree with the overall point, but I brought it up because I wanted to look at this side point: men, sports statistics; women, food statistics? Is this a fair generalization? I mean, some men count calories and some women follow league tables, but as a general rule, do these things tend to shake down along gender lines? Because I'm confronted with an assumption, by a guy, that I should know this stuff, and I'm wondering if he assumes too much or if my knowledge is really deficient.

To clarify: yet again, a (male) database teacher has assigned some kind of sports-database, clearly assuming that all his students will know enough about sports statistics to do this, because he hasn't provided any supplemental information - they never do. And I'm fairly certain a female database teacher wouldn't assign an E-R diagram for cataloging lipstick or tracking a shoe collection, at least not without some clarification on the sort of information she would expect to be stored. So once again, I am annoyed that the default setting is "guy" and that I am some kind of special interest, and am expected to adapt to someone else's definition of normal.

Of course I realize I am a member of more default-groups than special groups, and it is equally thoughtless to assume everyone is straight, white, and computer-literate, to name the first few things that leap to mind. I tend not to notice those assumptions as quickly, because they don't trip me up, but I still recognize that they are unfair and create a kind of pressure that can get really old really fast.

I also realize that this is a trivial problem - the sports-database thing, not the bossy-dominant-culture thing. I'm just taking a moment to be annoyed at how often guys insist on controlling the dialog without even knowing that they're doing it. (Which of course they would say absolves them from all responsibility - after all, they're not doing it on purpose, so they should be allowed to ignore its effects ... and we should continue to accommodate them.)

Yes, lots and lots of stuff is going into this post, some of it trivial and some quite profound, but I've already gone on for too long. I'll do the assignment and all, but I will be peeved about it. Because it's my blog, and I can.

Song du jour of the day: Don't Call Me Baby, by Voice of the Beehive.

um...

Rented Hitch today. Cute, charming, mildly funny, um, tool of the patriarchy but whatever. I enjoyed it anyway. You know, I really don't ask for a lot in a movie. Minimal gore, dialog that is other than turgid (yes George Lucas I am talking to you), and don't ever threaten a child, and you've pretty much got three stars from me.

Also, just because I took the Seahawks logo down, does not mean I don't love them anymore. Verily, I do. But the traffic-hazard lilacs in our yard are just about to bloom, and I want them to know that they are welcome! And they should please hurry up!

(Uh, yeah. The, uh, lilacs... read my... blog. Sure...)

Oh! Song! Du Jour! Of the Day! Luno, by Bloc Party. The intro totally reminds me of New Order. It's just me, right? Yeah, probably.

Just stuff

Reviews of movies you either saw years ago or never had any interest in. Pretty thrilling, huh? I know, I know...I keep trying to be all virtuous and Write Something Every Day, but dudes, I'm not Shakespierce. Single + fabulous + intelligent sports fan + intelligent music fan + living in L.A. = lots to write about. Married + middle-aged + suburban + housewife + datamonkey + kitschgeek = not so much.

So anyway, I rented I Heart Huckabees yesterday. My veteran readers (that means Kelly, pretty much) will remember that we joined some Netflix-like thingy awhile back, but that turned out to suck so we quit. Last month, I think. There's another place I'd been meaning to check out, where you get a card and then check out dvds from a machine, and I finally got around to signing up on Friday, which is a bit on the lame-o side because they're closing down at the end of the month, because it's not profitable enough. Oh well, at least I get movies for a month. A month during which I have time. The MySQL/PHP class I'm taking will be mostly review for me for the next few weeks, and then I'll hit the wall in May sometime. Looking forward to it!

Digress much? Okay, here's my review: I liked it. It made me laugh. But I have a hard time imagining anyone but me liking it, so it was really, really nice of David O. Russell and Lily Tomlin and Dustin Hoffman and Mark Wahlberg and Isabelle Huppert and all to make a movie just for me.

Rachel's keeping up with the Duke rape story. I'm pointing you to her because I probably won't be writing much more on it (doesn't mean I'm not reading and thinking about it), and I think she and Tiffany are doing an excellent job. A few guys in the comments sections, whose agendas I haven't bothered to investigate, think that they (so okay, then, we) are not being suitably objective, but um ... well.

Oh and spring has arrived! Happy happy, joy joy! Also, it's about frickin' time!

Song du jour of the day: Terrible Angels, by CocoRosie. Speaking of stuff that's too weird for anyone but me to like. "If you'll provide the birdbath, then I'll provide the skin..."

Okay, I've been bad.

I called in sick to work because DrBob took the car to Munich Thursday night so I would have had to either walk to the train station or ask Mrs Next Door to drive me there (with her brand-new tiny baby) and then I would have been on the train, which is its own kind of excruciating. Okay, I'm blithering. Upshot = I'm better than I was, but still too sick to take on the kind of activity that getting to work and doing my job would have required. And now it's late and I better get to bed, but I haven't blogged today, so I'm gonna fob you off with another annoying Eurovision retrospective.

Ah, the one and only Cliff Richard. He sang Congratulation for England in 1968. Didn't win, but it was a massive hit in Britain anyway. And I could forgive this song if it were like 1952, because they didn't know any better then. But 1968? He was sort of the "Elvis of England" (i.e., about that famous), which honestly? Makes me kind of sad. We got Elvis, they got Cliff (who later sang the Lord's Prayer to the tune of Auld Lang Syne, in public, for which he is surely going to Hell), and they still think they are culturally superior to us.

Of course, that last snarky sentence can be contradicted into oblivion with two little words. They rhyme with Flonty Squython. Hey, I never claimed to be consistent.

Betterer

It's like magic. Now that I've actually gone to the attention-seeking extreme of seeing a doctor about this stupid thing, it's gone away. Still a tad under the weather, but nothing like it's been for the past week and a half. It's a lot like when Aunt Flo is late, so you go buy a pregnancy test and then she shows up while you're driving home from the drugstore, and you realize you've just paid $9 to jump-start your period. Yes, that has happened to me. Twice. So okay, I'll cancel the labwork and be happy that it's over. And yet again, I'll swallow the grumpies over the fact that if I'd just waited another day, I wouldn't have wasted my money and the good doctor's time.

Not at all irritating.

Song du Jour of the Day? I'm watching a dippy special about the top 20 Abba songs, so here, for your viewing horror enjoyment, is the winning entry for the 1974 Eurovision Song Contest! I bet you didn't know that this is how Abba hit the big time. I am so groovin' on the blue satin knickerbockers.

Another step in the continuing dissolution of the Former Yugoslav Republic of People Who Can't Seem to Stand Eachother.

(annotated for people who don't feel like clicking all the links.)

Despite the name, Serbia & Montenegro is actually one country. But not for long. After this (they pulled out of the contest because they can't agree on a song), can political separation be far behind? Also, what the hell is with the Serbs? Look how hard everyone in the area tries to get away from them. Do they have really bad breath, or something?

I know, I know, it's that whole genocide thing. Maybe not so much that it happened, as that many Serbians (BBC roundup of Balkan press coverage on Milosevic's death) seem genuinely perplexed as to why everyone's so upset about it. And honestly, I can't explain why without resorting to tautology, because it's just so self-evident to me. It's very hard to explain something to someone if you can't understand their position, and "genocide is fine in some circumstances" is a cognitive leap that I am simply unable to make.

Okay, change of subject: I realize it's a bit of a stretch to link one nation's history of bigotry and violence to another's via this incident (Duke lacrosse team rapes exotic dancer at a party) in North Carolina, but I'm gonna do it anyway. Because I kinda see a similar dynamic. According to Ancrene Wiseass,

The lacrosse team has closed ranks and refuses to offer any information about the incidents

That's right - the team stands by the criminals in their midst. And why not? Members of this team have misbehaved before (15 team members' prior offenses) and gotten away with it, so they already know that they're above the law. And clearly, it hasn't yet occurred to them that what they did - racist barking? rape? strangling? hello? - was, you know, wrong or anything. Because it's not just an isolated event, but the product of a system that assigns more value to some people based on their race, class, income and athletic ability, and that value basically amounts to a get out of jail free card. I hope Duke comes down hard on them - the University owns the building where it happened, and they could legally suspend the entire team for obstructing a criminal investigation. But will they? Duke, like other universities, has obviously bought into the system (special privileges for athletes) for a long time.

Conservatives accuse us liberals of moral relativism. They say there are absolute truths, absolute good and evil. If this gets picked up by Conservative bloggers at all, I'm guessing they'll blame the victims. I bet they'll ignore the fact that if the race/class of the people were reversed, if it had been black athletes from N.C. Central assaulting a white girl from Duke, they'd already be wearing orange jumpsuits. Will they recognize their own moral relativism?

I don't usually post politically-oriented things, because I usually don't have time to do the research to back up my assertions (damn my journalistic principles, even though very few actual journalists seem to have them anymore). But I'm not a journalist, I'm just a housewife with a blog. I think the story should reach as many people as possible, and I really hope it makes us all question the assumptions we have about our society. Not just question. Change.

A good writer would bring this back around to the Yugoslavia thing, but I worked all day on this post, so now I have to go do something else.

The situation is being tracked over at Justice 4 Two Sisters.

Not as better as I thought I was

Still dragging. Usually I spend a day in illness rehab (the part where I feel like I might be getting better), and then it's over, but it's been longer than that. I promised Mrs Next Door I would go to the doctor today - I would never have done it if I hadn't made that promise. In fact, when I got there, I had to do preliminary stuff because, it turned out, I had never yet been there as a patient, in over four years of living across the street from this clinic. I was always The Patient's Mama. Turns out my usual method of dealing with illness (ignore it and hope it goes away) has been even more effective than I'd realized.

Even now, having been weak and weary for eight days (nine?) I still think it's just a virus that will eventually be over. I've just reached the point where I'm willing to cough up the €10 copay to find out when.

So the doc was supposed to hear my symptom and grimace and say "Yeah, that's been going around. Usually lasts about two weeks. Drink water, try to rest, buh-bye." Unfortunately she doesn't seem to have read her script. So poke prod listen, reflex hammer, stethoscope, blood pressure, close my eyes and march in place. etc. Then she told me to make an appointment for labwork and an ultrasound, and the earliest one they could give me was next Tuesday.

Um. Tuesday. You know, I really wasn't planning to stay sick for that long.

Song du jour of the day: Interpol. A Time to Be So Small

French Toast

I once heard someone say that the tradition of drinking "á votre santé," to your health, dates back to the days when it was considered a courtly gesture for a gentleman to drink from a lady's shoe. Apparently drinking to her health was an acknowledgement of the risk he was taking – if she had any funky foot diseases, he'd be drinking major cooties, so before he took a swig, he hoped she was healthy.

I sure hope that's apocryphal. Because, ew.

Your Questions Answered

Kelly asks, re the Eurovision stuff, "and what the hell is up with Germany?!"

There are about six sets of backstory I could give you if I wanted to make this really long, but I could go on about Eurovision the way I could go on about Star Trek: either you are an initiate, and you already know, or you're not interested and I'm boring you. It really is an amazing social phenomenon, though.

So, long story short, each country used to use a jury to choose the song that would represent it at ESC, but as technology and democracy have advanced, more and more have moved to televoting (vote by phone).

Germany sent um, songs of a certain, uh, type for a really long time. (Example? Okey-dokey). Then, in the late '90s, Stefan Raab, Germany's version of Leno/Letterman, decided to involve himself in Eurovision, and the voters liked his extremely irreverent approach - not just in Germany, but in Europe as well: his song "Wadde Hadde Dudde Da?" came in like third or something in the 2000 ESC. Okay, fifth. Still pretty good. However, there are people who take Eurovision very seriously indeed, and they were horrified, which for me just adds to the humor of the whole thing.

So this year, the Forces of Boring took a giant step backward for democracy, and a jury chose three (dreadful) songs, and let the People vote on those. Wikipedia says Raab's bored of Eurovision, which is quite likely, but I suspect the FoB also set this up to keep him out. And his ilk, because the German competitions have featured a fair few very silly acts in recent years. Which is why Germans had to choose from three really, really bad songs this year. I don't know why they chose the worst. I don't know why they couldn't be represented by Germans Being Schlocky, instead of by Germans Being Schlocky While Pretending To Be Texans. Maybe they hoped the rest of Europe would think these really were Texans, not Germans, and direct their scorn across the Atlantic.

Wikipedia on the Eurovision Song Contest

On the mend

Well, finally! I am by no means back to normal, but I'm on the way. I can swallow, yawn, and even cough without crying. When I sit still for awhile, I feel almost normal. So, for instance, if I need something upstairs I'll leap out of my chair and scamper up the stairs in my usual way, but halfway up I'm like remember that Bugs Bunny cartoon, where he tunnels to the Sahara, but he thinks he's at some beach, so he leaps out and runs, yelling Yahoo! Whoopee! etc, and then he's staggering along with his tongue hanging to his knees, gasping Yahoo! *gasp*wheeze* Yippee! *wheeze*choke*? Yeah. I'm like that.

Still. It's better than it was. The last six days I've been hearing the phone ring and groaning because I knew I'd never get to it before the caller gave up. The phone is like ten feet from my desk.

Also, remember this charming entry about the um, metal band that will be representing Finland in the Eurovision Song Contest? Right, well, I forgot to give you the link for their website, how terribly remiss of me. Better yet, if you go back to the Eurovision site I told you about before, and click on "Multimedia Lounge", and then choose the "Video" option, up pops a list of 2006 Participants. Click on Finland - you can see Lordi's video! Then, you can see the German entry (Have a basin handy)! Then you will understand why I want Finland to win, and maybe, instead of a trophy, they'll get to eat the Germans. The pink fuzzy bolero alone is enough of a reason to want to see the German singer's head on a pike.

EDIT: Oh! Right! The song du jour of the day! Well of course it would have to be Hard Rock Hallelujah, by Lordi! I mean, it's the Arockalypse! Also, the Day of Rockening!

Another edit: An easier way to see the Lordi video: click here.

ow.

I haven't had a song du jour of the day for a long time, have I? Sorry about that. Well, going into day 5 of a sore throat that makes it difficult to swallow anything, let's go with Like Eating Glass, by Bloc Party.

Oh, and via Negro Please, hahahahaha!

oh wait....new information...

Actually, they do have a baby, they just hadn't told me yet. Born Thursday evening. I work for the dad, and he was going to tell me at work yesterday, but of course I called in sick. So he called this morning to give me the news, because I'd already told the mom I'd want to visit her in the hospital, but of course now I'm sick. So I can't. Dang.

And, after all my talk against froofroo baby sweaters, and after I made them a nice manly dark-green-and-white sweater for their new human, they went and had a girl! So unfair. Well, at least I can finally knit girl-things. Actually, maybe I should take Amber up on her offer. They're moving to Scotland. It'll be cold...

Skip if you don't knit.

No, not like the "honk if you love Jesus" thing, though if you want to skip, I won't try to stop you. I mean, do not bother to read this entry if you are not a knitter, as it will be boring and make no sense to you.

The sweater I mentioned in the March 11 entry is long-done and delivered. The baby, not yet. Poor Gabriele. Anyway, I documented the process and have finally scraped together a page with instructions. It's a modification of the ubiquitous five-hour baby sweater, and I'm actually surprised at how cute it turned out to be.

I put the pattern up on my free webhost, and it did something weird with the formatting, and I'm too tired now to try and fix it. I Hope you can read it anyway. My first-ever published knitting pattern!

5-hour baby sweater

Three f*cking days

Still sick. House = mess. Yard = mess. Called in sick to work, a job for my webmaster gig that should have taken me an hour took me three days. I am so tired of this.

bleah

Those penguins in my avatar? They will go away when there is no longer any snow on the ground. It's not too far off, yesterday was actually sunny, and warmish, and I was able to dry some laundry out on the patio. Hooray!

But today I am sick. Wretchedly so, with a sore throat (which is my least favorite of all symptoms, even worse than spontaneous eyeball tumors), and a bone-deep fatigue. Fortunately, ~d has saved the day by tagging me for the Universal Meme, so now you have something to read other than how crappy I feel.

Four of the jobs I have had in my life:

1. Prep Cook - Sea Galley, Port Townsend WA
2. Projectionist - Neptune Theater, Seattle WA
3. Canvasser - WashPIRG and MassPIRG. Absolute hell.
4. Cook - Last Exit on Brooklyn, Seattle WA
   

Four Movies I would watch over and over again:

1. The Princess Bride
2. The Fifth Element
3. Galaxy Quest
4. Casablanca
   

Four places I have lived:

1. Columbus, Ohio
2. Frösön, Sweden
3. Seattle, Washington
4. Munich, Germany

Four TV shows I (would) love to watch if I lived in a civilized country:

1. The Daily Show
2. Star Trek reruns. Any series.
3. Third Rock from the Sun
4. Frasier

Four websites I visit daily:

1. The ones in my blogroll
2. Toytown
3. Gmail
4. The Guardian

Four of my favorite foods:

1. Taquitos from el Puerco Llorón at Pike Place Market
2. Mint-chocolate-chip ice cream
3. Campbell's tomato soup (made with milk, not water!) and goldfish crackers
4. Real mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy

Four places I would rather be right now:

1. In bed, sleeping off this stupid flu or cold or whatever
2. Helping Kelly settle into her new house
3. Spain. Anywhere except the tourist-hell coast.
4. Visiting my brother and his family in Denver

Four people I would tag, except I'm pretty sure they've already done it:

1. Amber
2. Elemmaciltur
3. Kelly
4. KimberlyDi

All right. Off to bed. Bleah.

This and that. And a hat.

The work I didn't want to do a few entries ago is still getting done. It's a web site update, so lots of tedious little fiddly-things, which means that I'm too busy to blog and also have nothing of interest to blog about.

I've also rediscovered knitting, so I'll post the pattern for a baby sweater I just made, as soon as I get it looking nice. The pattern, not the sweater. The sweater already looks fine.

I also made a hat, with some scrap yarn. The pattern said size 13 needles and size giganta-huge-a-mongous yarn, and I used size 8s and regular yarn, so it turned out to be a baby hat. A really, really warm baby hat. Um, does anybody have a cold baby? Because I don't really have anyone to put this hat on.

Yesterday evening I finally remembered to call my future students and tell them I'll start up the conversation class on April 5th, and also call the woman who's in charge of the space we'll be using at the Women's Center. Evenings are usually the best time to catch people at home, but evenings are really busy for us, so I kept forgetting to call. I thought it was Freudian forgetting, you know, that I was so wigged out by the prospect of teaching that my forgetfulness was sort of subconsciously intentional. But when I finally did remember, I made the calls without any wittering or excuses or out-wimping, so I must have a pretty good grip on my fear after all. That's good.

Song du jour of the day. The Hippopotamus Song, by John Lithgow. Yes, really. I bought the CD for my kids, but I like it way more than they do.

I like this a lot

FutureGoogle

Eight hours of "fun"

Two things you should know first, by way of exposition.

1: I hate parties. I want to like them, I really do. I want to be nice and sociable and friendly and liked, but I'm too socially awkward. No really, I am the Black Hole of small talk. Alala's four-step plan to surviving parties?

1 - arrive late
2 - park myself by the food
3 - only talk to people I know
4 - leave early

It's the only way I can do it. I know, I'm a loser. I hate it, but there you go.

2: I hate to drive. Always have. I hate the responsibility of controlling a 2-ton death machine, hate having to concentrate so hard, ack. I didn't even get my license until I was 26, and then only because we'd moved to Wisconsin, Land of Crappy Public Transit, and I had to learn to drive or starve to death. So I do drive, but only when I absolutely have to, and then only to the grocery store.

So now that you have the information necessary to understand the story, here it is:

DrBob shared his birthday party with 3 other guys we know who turned 40 or 41 this week. The party was in Munich last night. We got there at 7:30 to set up, and we had to stay to the end, which was around 3:30 a.m. It was loud and smoky and I knew very few people. There was only one person I could speak English with, the rest of my conversations were in Spanish or German. And? I agreed to drive us home so that DrBob could enjoy himself without having to worry about how much he drank, which meant I drank alcohol-free beer all night.

DrBob's all, "hey that was fun, we should have another party sometime." I'm all, "Just shoot me now Of course dear! When?"

Song du jour of the evening: the Hives. See Through Head

Oh, Lordi, Lordi

A little known fact that I just made up: Eurovision is the progenitor of the WTF phenomenon. Hey, it could be true. You take about 50 WTF-moments, string 'em together, and you've got the Eurovision Song Contest, pretty much. I mean hey! It's a pop-song contest, with one entry from each participating country! In Europe! How could this not be fabulous? It's like...a giant, festering kitsch-bomb. It's like pearls with plaid and sequins and fringe! And bearskin capes and leather bikinis, of course.

Seriously. You have got to see this. Umm, over here if you click on "Multimedia Lounge", and choose "video" you can see a selection of Eurovision offenders entries through the ages.

Anyway, at the moment I'm hoping Finland's entry wins, on the principle that, even though two wrongs don't make a right, five wrongs most certainly do.

a little whine with the daily grind

I don't WANT to work. I am finding all kinds of reasons not to do these two little puppet-head jobs. It will probably only take a few minutes, but they'll be really, really tedious minutes. More tedious than vacuuming or folding the rest of the laundry? Ooo, tough call there. I'd better flip a coin. Hey, the dolphin dish has a buncha foreign coins, mixed in with the euro-coins! I should sort those out, put the American ones in DrBob's room for when he goes to Kalamazoo in May, and the rest in Ignatz's coin collection-which-is-really-just-a-box, and maybe put the euro-change in my wallet. Oh that reminds me that my wallet needs cleaning out. But first I better have a snack...

Song du jour of the day? Gotta be Put Your Hand Inside the Puppet Head by They Might Be Giants

awesome

This needs a wider audience.

~d's quizzes.

Okay, really I started it. My donut-thing set her off, and now she's set me off...this can only end in tears.

Your Irish Name Is...

Alannah McGrath

What's your Irish Name?
Hmph. That's a boring name.

Your Musical Tastes Match: Weird Al

Uh...wait...

What Celebrity Matches Your Taste in Music?

Your Porn Star Name Is...

Champagne Waters

What's Your Porn Star Name?

Your Stripper Song Is

Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard "Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on Livin' like a lover with a radar phone Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp Demolition woman, can I be your man?" Break out the baby oil, you rock it old school.

What Song Should You Strip To?
BWAhahahahaha!

Your Christmas Song Is

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus Then I saw mommy tickle santa claus Underneath his beard so snowy white Oh, what a laugh it would have been If daddy had only seen Mommy kissing santa claus last night At Christmas, you feel like a kid again Complete with major Christmas eve insomnia

What Christmas Carol Are You?

You Are 60% Weird

You're so weird, you think you're *totally* normal. Right? But you wig out even the biggest of circus freaks!

Okay, I actually really like this one...

How Weird Are You?

You Are a Chick Rocker!

You're living proof that chicks can rock You're inspired by Joan Jett and the Donnas And when you rock, you rock hard (Plus, you get all the cute guy groupies you want!)

What Kind of Rocker Are You?
Gack.

You Are Coke

A true original and classic, you represent the best of everything you can offer. Just the right amount of sweet, just the right amount of energy... you're the life of the party. Your best soda match: Mountain Dew Stay away from:Dr Pepper

What Kind of Soda Are You?
Mountain Dew!? EEEYuck!

Sleepcooking

I fell asleep this afternoon. DrBob woke me at six so I could make dinner (because I'd promised I would, not because he's one of Those Husbands) and propped me up in front of the stove. I burned the chicken. I don't know what happened to the noodles. And I'm pretty sure the sauce is not usually that color. Damn. There go all my June Cleaver points.

This morning Ignatz said "I think we should get a cat and a dog, so we can have bilingual pets."

What!? No sprinkles?

You Are a Glazed Donut

Okay, you know that you're plain - and you're cool with that. You prefer not to let anything distract from your sweetness. Your appeal is understated yet universal. Everyone digs you. And in a pinch, you'll probably get eaten. (Okay, that's kinda gross...)

What Donut Are You?

Oh, heavens

Well, Mir said something about Blogging for Books, which I have never heard of before, so I followed the link here, only to find that it is Sadly Endangered! This must not be, I thought to myself. I, indifferent-yet-inconsistent writer that I am, will step in and add my voice and Save (but probably never win, which is actually fine with me, as I don't have a lot of pride invested in my writing ability) this noble contest. Then I found out what this month's topic is: the Military.

Okay, that is one topic that I know NOTHING about. Seriously. I have a few opinions, of the bumper-sticker variety, but basically I'm just a big ol' sack o' clueless.

But you do (Kelly)! I bet some of you (Kelly) have military or ex-military family members (Kelly). Some of you (Kelly) may even have grown up on various military bases around the world (Kelly)! What a wealth of experience you would bring! Also, I'll try to come up with something this week, but it'll hafta suck since Joshilyn totally ganked my idea about the Trojan Horse. (Okay no, she didn't really).

[Edit: This Just In! I found out over here that you can link to an old post. So I may just post a link to one I wrote a few months ago, if I'm feeling, you know (gotta call my students and set up the English class, gotta meet with the tax guy next week, set Ignatz up with Track&Field and the chess group, sign up for the next course in my web-tech-cert program, take those jeans out to the seamstress for repair, oh shizzle I forgot to pick up the dry-cleaning today, gotta put in some work on the alala.de site before Kel gets justifiably snippy about having to do it all by herself, find out about small business and freelancing laws here in Germany and how the alala.de project will affect my tax status, both here and in the States, need to get to Ikea soon) lazy.]

In music news, ~d is totally my hero! Because she pointed me to Pandora, which I am loving. So my song du jour of the day is ALL OF THEM! Okay, no, I'll think of something. Um, If You Love Me, by Van Morrison and BB King. I was listening to that tonight while I cleaned the kitchen. Sorry for all the Moldy Oldies, I haven't gotten any new music since the Arctic Monkeys and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, which was - egad - two whole weeks ago!

Geek Dreams

I had a dream early this morning that I was trying to talk to someone using dot-notation. Specifically, I was trying to tell someone about this by saying Kelly.sister.husband.mother(died). Only I was talking, not writing.

Jeez.

thank you for the days...

I've been thinking about Elvis Costello all day for my song du jour of the day. But I couldn't settle on one song, until I went over to Vicki's. Her Mom passed away this weekend, and now my favorite blogistan sitcom, the Bud and Jan show, is off the air. And even though I went through this myself quite recently, I'm starting to realize that every situation is different, and having Been There helps you empathize, but it doesn't teach you the right words to say to someone who's going through it now.

Anyway. I listened to Days a lot right after my Dad died, thirteen years ago. A whole lot. Oh, and incidentally? He used to go into restaurants and ask "What's the soup du jour of the day?" just to see the waitress look bewildered. Frequently. That's why I keep repeating that joke, in case you were wondering. It's kind of a tribute to my Dad. So no, even if you're really really tired of it and you never thought it was funny in the first place, I'm not going to stop.

And I found this! Neat, huh?

get your own

and another milestone

Sometimes, when my children master some new skill, or start on some new phase, I find it hard to supply the unqualified rejoicing that such an occasion demands from other parents. Or perhaps the parents of other kids. What the Sniglet has done is, he's written his first spontaneous word - that is, he didn't copy something we'd written for him, he generated it without any model, purely from memory. This is good news! Unfortunately, the word he's chosen for this first step on the path to literacy is:

Poop.

...

Oh well, at least it's a palindrome.

because ~d asked...

...yes, I have neglected my song du jour of the day lately. And even though it's DrBob's birthday, I don't have a birthday song, because I think the song du jour of the day should be something I love, even if it's only for the moment, and there aren't any birthday songs I love. But today's song is one for the ages, my first-ever Tom Waits song. I was 20 years old, and it was playing at Keith's house, when our relationship was on its way out anyway, and even though we were barely speaking, I called him two days later to ask him what that song had been. It is my favorite love song, because it admits that lovers can have problems but still care about eachother.

Please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It's too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we're wounded
Everyone's a bit insane
But I don't want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain

just quickly...

DrBob is 40 today, and we've got guests to entertain. So nothing much to see here, but I have a guest post up over at Crouching Mommy, Hidden Laundry that you can check out.

also...

...at work the server did something bad, or something bad happened to it, I dunno what, and the computer guy was up in Dortmund or somewhere. So he called a buncha times and told me what to type and asked me to tell him what it said. I helped! I did something Linuxy! It was like being talked through landing a plane! Only I failed to fix the computer, but still! I Linuxed! I bet that'll knock my geek score up a notch or two.

Titles are for organized people.

hello darlings,

sorry, sorry, yes I've been a flake about blogging. I got a wild hair - yes, we knitters are a craaaaazy bunch - and suddenly decided that I need to make a sweater for my friend Gabriele's baby. The baby is due on Tuesday, and I cannot in good conscience hope that s/he comes late, because both my babies were late, and the days between the due date and the actual birth? Hell. On. Earth. So my only alternative is to knit like the wind! Which keeps my hands too busy for typing.

Also too busy for folding laundry, which explains the four loads on the couch. Also I've done some rearranging: moved my office from our bedroom down to the living room; totally upset the basement to make room for a guy to come and install a radiator, and of course I can't just put it back the way it was, no I have to be Martha Stewart and take the opportunity to ORGANIZE IT! Kids' rooms=mess. Both of them are suddenly outgrowing and/or trashing all their clothes. I found 9 pairs of Ignatz's jeans which I put in my sewing basket and ignored for so long that if I get them patched soon they will fit the Sniglet. They're on the steps waiting to be taken to the Sewing-Lady, because we've already established that even though there is no reason I can't do it myself, I won't actually do it.

And by the way? The house has to be spotless in time for DrBob's 40th birthday, which is, oh, the day after tomorrow. Shoot me now.

Song du jour of the day: Sala Keba, by Papa Wemba. Great percussion, very cheerful. "Sala Keba" apparently means "Be Careful", that's all I know. But it makes me happy.

Oh, and I got the tickets. Woot! Hm, actually, you probably can't say Woot at a Sisters of Mercy concert. Gee, I better go make sure I have enough eyeliner.

re snow on the roof

Kymberlydi mentioned reading news reports about collapsing roofs. Yes, that is a concern here. At the moment the weight isn't too threatening, even though there's a lot of snow, but if it rains, that weight could triple and then it'll be time to worry. Ignatz says the fire department was at his school today, clearing snow off the roof. I'm going to ask at the kindergarten tomorrow - there is one section with a flat roof that looks potentially troublesome. Otherwise, I think we'll be okay. Most of the houses have fairly steep red ceramic tile roofs, very slippery when wet, so the snow will eventually slide off. You won't want to stand too close to any of the houses when it warms up, though. And the mailmen will all deserve hazard-pay.

time to breathe into a paper sack

Mrs Next Door called yesterday morning to say that her students all want to continue their English conversation class, with me instead ofher as the teacher. Um, ulp?

So I went and dug out all my old materials from the TESL (um, Teaching English as a Second Language, that is) certification course, hoping they would sort of refresh my memory. They sort of did. That is, I don't know that I remembered a lot about planning and structuring lessons, but I certainly recalled how grueling that course was. It was the first time since high school geometry that I tried to do something I have no talent for, and ended up actually having to work at it. It was a solid month of struggling, and I think I got a B- out of the course. For a straight-A student, that was demoralizing.

But. I paid a lot of money for that course and worked my butt off, for a certification I have not used, except for seven lessons with a neighbor's four-year-old that were an unmitigated disaster. This is different. These are grown-ups. Motivated ones. And I have that certificate, and I'm damn well gonna use it.

Um, ulp?

Song du jour of the day: I have a really persistent song virus from Banaroo, Germany's latest manufactured teeny-pop atrocity. Hm, an interesting problem. The song to exorcise a demon song virus must be terminally catchy, with really good percussion, so I'm going to have to go with Talking Heads, and Sax and Violins. Yeah.

yay!

You can't see me, but I'm doing a little happy-dance.

Just a small one.

more snowpics

So here's DrBob and the kids, and the Next-next-door kids, making igloos in the garden. DrBob decided to build one from the ground up. The younger set opted to hollow out an existing hill. Myself, I think DrBob's is much better, but that's me thinking as a Mom. Which one would you rather have collapse on your kid?

Ahem. By the way, that hill of snow? The one that's taller than the neighbor's car? Yeah. I made that. All that snow came from our driveway. And that wasn't even all there was: Mr Next Door and I were dumping snow across the street yesterday morning because there was no place to put it on our side. I can't tell you how unusual that is for this area. This is just so weird.

And, um, no I didn't go out and help build igloos. Because I am, uh, much too er, grown-up for that sort of thing. Egad, what a horrible thought. When did that happen?

I'd like to thank the Academy...

(Via the Goober Queen)

Okay but no, that score is unrealistically high. I'm flattered, I really am, but there was lots more room for geekitude in that quiz. I have miles to go before I'm as geeky as I wanna be.

DrBob and the boys built igloos today. Photos to follow.

Today's song du jour of the day is by Lyle Lovett:
If it's her you want
I don't care 'bout that
You can have my girl
But Don't Touch My Hat

I'm boring.

There's like 40 blogs on my blogroll, and most days I don't have time to check them all. Today I did, which can only mean one thing: I didn't do anything else today. Okay, I shoveled the driveway and the sidewalk out front. All by myself, despite the talk of shiftwork in the last entry, because Ignatz had friends over and DrBob's wrist is messed up and I didn't want him to hurt himself even more. And the Sniglet's five, which is an age that wants to be helpful, but very often isn't.

Here's the thing. When I do stuff, I have stuff to write about but no time. When I don't do stuff, I have time to write but no stuff. Unless you wanna hear about my fabulous bathroom reorganization yesterday. No, actually, sharing that memory would diminish its fabulousness. I'll just hold it close to my heart. Good times, good times...

Welcome to Suburbia. Home of the Slow, Creeping Soul-Death.

Song du jour of the day? Breathing, by Kate Bush. She sang it with such anguish, and it seemed so possible, so near-future, in the 80s. Remember how we all thought we were just a breath away from nuclear annihilation, and that thought informed everything we did? Watched "The Day After", read "On the Beach", and thought of them as documentaries...Who cares, man, it's all gonna go to hell any minute anyway. What a fucked-up way to grow up.

I loved that song. Still do, actually, even if it doesn't ring quite as true these days.

snowy day photos

Well, I hear that public transit in Munich is effectively shut down. I can tell you for sure that we're not going anywhere, and we're going to have to shovel snow in shifts, since it's too much for any one of us.

This is a snowman that Ignatz built yesterday. Look, he even has feet! Well, had feet. Yesterday, when this picture was taken.

The next one is part of the yard to the side of our house. Ignatz's snowman is in there, too, in the lower left-hand corner. But this picture was taken this morning.

Today's song du jour of the day is Shaking the Tree, a duet by Peter Gabriel and Youssou N'dour, because with every breeze, an avalanche of snow falls from one of the trees across the street. It's better than TV. Of course, the song has nothing to do with snowy trees, but still, that's my song virus at the moment.

And finally, the view out our front door. Ack.

Better get out there with the snow shovel.

Well, winter's back

The drive to Munich yesterday was hair-raising, we lost traction and went off the road just outside Mittbach. It's always Mittbach, for some reason. That's where we had to turn back a couple Fridays ago, because a stranded truck was blocking the road. Anyway, we hit a curve and went whoosh, whoosh, missed a sign by about a foot and wound up in a snowdrift off the road, with a need to go backward and uphill to get back on the road, and tires with no grip. DrBob was so cool, he didn't look surprised or scared at all while he was fighting the skid. He was so calm that when we finally stopped I said "did you do that on purpose?" I mean, he'd just been telling me how to deal with a skidding car (yes, I really don't know. I'm a crappy driver), and then he was so calm when it happened I thought maybe he'd decided to demonstrate or something. Anyway, he was on the phone to ADAC (German version of AAA) when a random guy with a Mini pulled over and TOWED US OUT. Sometimes, I just love people. But the freeway was buggered - apparently some of the snowplow drivers are on strike.

Tough to know how to feel about that. I know y'all in America hear about European workers striking at the drop of a hat, and yes, sometimes they can get a bit frivolous. The snowplow drivers are striking because they're being asked to work more hours. Well, there's more snow, so on the surface it's not an unreasonable request. But I know that workers in other industries have lately been forced to accept wage freezes (cost of living goes up, but your paycheck stays the same? Gee, that wouldn't suck much), or more hours for not more pay, and I suspect that the latter is what's going on here: they are expected to work more for the same money. But I don't know for sure and am too damn lazy to check. Here, if you want to, you can look it up.

By the time we drove back home last night, it was 7°C (umm, that's uh, 44°F) and most of the snow was melted. This morning, it was back. And it snowed all day. I shoveled the driveway clear at 10 a.m., and that's how I know that we got at least six inches of snow today, because that's how deep it was when I went out again at 9 p.m. Apparently the weatherdudes are predicting another 20 inches or so tomorrow. You don't need me to tell you again how tired of this I am, right?

Song du jour: Lucretia My Reflection. The Sisters of Mercy are coming next month, and I can't figure out how to buy tickets online. Plus I just bought tickets for the Arctic Monkeys. Plus I have a few things to hand, plus DrBob just told me he wants a lava lamp. Also, he is seriously entertaining the idea of buying a new computer. He's due this year anyway, and when he does the kids will inherit his old one, and the Dell from Hell can finally retire, so the Sniglet had the fabulous idea to get Papa a new computer for his birthday! The child has no idea how much a computer costs, no idea at all of the value of money. When he has it, he gives it away on the flimsiest of pretexts. But still, DrBob is due for a new one, and how cool would it be for the Sniglet to be able to say it was from him? On the other hand, how sucky would it be for Ignatz, that his brother gives Papa a new computer and all he has to offer is a lava lamp and a belt?

Maybe Ignatz won't notice.

And even though I have enough presents I will probably still try to get Sisters tickets.

Auntie Meme! Auntie Meme!

Tagged again, and this is a fun one. (Oog, that reminds me that I've had this one I ganked from Eric Meyer in my blog.txt file for ages, gotta get that one up too...). Anyway. From Landismom over at Bumblebee Sweet Potato:

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they are any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

Right, well, I haven't learned how to put a song in a web page. I know I am woefully behind on the whole internet-music-thing, and if I were Zazzafooky I'd be all "Click to listen, right-click to download" and then I would be just Too. Damn. Cool. But I'm not, and I am really sorry about that. If I'd-a known this meme was coming, I woulda figured it out.

So I'll start with the song virus that is in my head right this very minute: Riot Van, by the Arctic Monkeys. This is new to us, and I'm really liking it. And yeah, I bought the tickets. Even if I can't surprise him, this show's gonna be too good to miss.

Then there's Marvin Gaye's Can I Get a Witness. So much fun, that song is. Makes me hop around the kitchen. Also, the opening piano bit reminds me of something...the Sesame Street theme song, maybe. Which came first? Who cares, it's cool.

I love, love, LOVE Mando Diao lately. I got Bring 'Em In for DrBob for Christmas, and let him keep it for almost 40 minutes before I stole it back. Poke around the site, check out the lyrics, observe how they make absolutely no sense. Fabulous. Sheepdog is the first track on that one, the hook I suppose. Worked on me.

Speaking of shrieking Swedes, The Hives' B is for Brutus? Best. Riff. EVER! This is the song that makes me dance like I'm being riddled with bullets. But, you know, in a good way.

Shy, by Ani DiFranco. Yeah. Take that, motherfucker.

Hm, Lighten up a bit? Okey-dokey! RuPaul's A Little Bit of Love, just to show I'm not all about the angry stuff. I am, however, all about jumping around the kitchen.

I'd love to include some Talking Heads, something by the Cure, maybe Violent Femmes or XTC? We just bought Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, which reminds me of all of those. Here, it says on their site that you can listen to Over and Over Again (Lost and Found), and they won't mind.

Is that seven? Okay, then!

Seven people to tag:
~d. Mentions music in her profile, and I've been meaning to ask anyway.
Jeneane. Actually, I don't think Jeneane does memes. But I bet she knows a lot of good music, so this is worth a try.
Amber. Because I bet Amber's cool enough to know how to actually link to .mp3 files. If that's legal.
Elemmaciltur. Quick, before you leave! What will you be listening to on that 13-hour flight, when the barbarians won't let you knit?
Kevin. Because he's neglecting his blog lately, and to give Kelly a break. Since she called me "bad" the last time I tagged her. Hmph.
James. Getting to knoooooow yoooou, la-la-la...Also running out of unique reasons.
Mabel. Just wondering.