I have a sore throat again. I went to sleep just a little after ten. it's pretty sad when I can't even stay up for the west wing. I have been going to sleep in the vicinity of ten for several days now. I want all of this rest to shield me from sore throats. why isn't it working?
we don't have the heat on. I love the space in time after the air conditioning but before the heat.
most of what I did yesterday beyond direct action child rearing was read my book, cold flat junction by martha grimes. it's moody and sad and lovely. it feels a lot like margaret atwood.

I feel quizzish, how 'bout you?


Goo!! You are SALVADORE DALI.
You paint the bizarre and surreal. No one can
figure you out, and everyone has given up
trying to guess what crazy thing you'll do
next. Your friends look forward to whatever
outrageous endeavor you will engage in next.


Which famous artist most reflects your personality?
brought to you by Quizilla

I am getting in gear for the bookfair. I need to get a long armed stapler from someplace. oy.
meanwhile, girlmom & mamaphonic are back up, the new hip mama is gorgeous, the weather is nice if it a bit warmer than I'd prefer, and I'm okay.

song of the day: anchorage by michelle shocked

I took time out to write to my old friend
I walked across that burning bridge

***

I had a great weekend in atlanta, with old friends, chai, thai food, a wedding, dinosaur bones and a long train ride

go on over to the new hip mama site and make me a nice, satisfying poll.

wow, I really enjoy the grim reaper's age guesser. it says I'm 33. that makes it sound like I'm being all, ooh it called me young! that's not what I mean. I enjoyed the questions and am impressed with the accuracy.

this household has gone from stomach flu to cold-and-flu without missing a beat.

as I post this, my fluish kids have been in front of the set all day...

Television


The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

Roald Dahl

we were hit hard by a stomach flu beginning on tuesday night. now, I'm placating recovering kids by tolerating the freaking wiggles. I can't stand the wiggles.

saturday is the national day to empower teen parents. look for events near you.

news: someone stole my kids' shabby yard sale bikes from off of our front porch.
reminder: the submission deadline for a mama's calendar is nov. 20.