The child who woke me
and who was all wet, “with pee”
Was not in my bed

at the time, merely
standing right next to my bed
my nice, warm, dry bed.

and let the record
show, I warned that kid not to
drink so much water

the night before, and
lo, I was rewarded for
my effort thusly.

Once in awhile my husband gets a hankering to make beignets. He orders the mix directly from Cafe du Monde. He especially likes to mark the beginning and the end of the Tour de France with a batch (France, Acadia, same diff).

Apparently Jo is a fan. When she learned about haiku at school, she composed the following entry:

Breakfast is yummye
I like benyets and orange juis
They are super good

And I think that is just as good a way as any to close out the week. Bon appetit!

in the blogosphere
being called a zombie chick?
it’s a compliment

Specifically, it means that recipients of this prestigious award  “believe in the Tao of the zombie chicken—excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words.”

Well, wow. Thanks, Melisa with one S!

Now for the threatening part: “As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all.” Yikes.

Well, I like to live on the edge so I am going to pass this on to one single chick: Mad. Because although her masterful retelling of Pride and Prejudice didn’t make mention of any zombies, it was by all means remarkable.

I never got to
hold him, smell him, even see
him; still I miss him.

Feeling melancholy over here tonight folks. Not much to post because everything is too ajumble in my mind (therefore I can make up words like “ajumble”). It would probably help to write it down, but my browser keeps opening to Chicktionary instead of Blogger. Funny, that.

I’ve tweeted a few times how much I love finding my daughter’s random writing samples around the house: a list of supplies needed for building a fort (“chars, blakits, tap, bulos, sremrs”*), a copy of a thank-you note composed at school (“Thank you for lating us pic appls. An prs the appls afdr we pict the appls. the sidr was yommye!”). After years of asking us to spell out words for her letter by letter, she is finally comfortable and confident enough to invent her own spelling. I will miss this when she outgrows it (or learns to use spell check).

The other day she composed a mini-story and I just realized it is actually a haiku! A scatological one, naturally:

The monster pewpt and
fel down. That pewp totaly
mest op his plan. Ya!

And here is a picture from one of her storybooks, a retelling of the Ugly Duckling fairy tale:

Happy Haiku Friday, and happy weekend.

*chairs, blankets, tape, pillows, streamers

Sand through the hourglass
Technicolor leaves drifting
I am old as dirt

The other day at the dinner table Jo started talking about adjectives and nouns. Jeff and I immediately burst into song: “A noun’s a special kind of word! It’s any name you ever heard, I find it/ Quite interesting, a noun is a person, place, or thing.”

Somehow during the same conversation it came up that she wanted to wear last year’s kitty ears with this year’s “rock star” (NOT Hannah M., thankyouverymuch) Halloween costume. This caused another outburst from the parental units and some quizzical looks from the children.

Thanks to YouTube, we were able to show the children what on earth we were talking about. So I guess them there modern conveniences do have some value.

I can only hope that Jeff and I prove to be like our betta fish, who has dodged Death twice in his four-month stay with us (accidental visit to the garbage disposal; dumped on the floor when bowl broke) and is, in Jo’s words, “a really good liver.”

Sidebar: Yes, my first grader is learning about parts of speech. And geometry. Rock on Montessori with your geo solids and your 3D grammar symbols.

Laptop battery
dies, DVR won’t record,
AC blows warm air

What is next? Am I going to be washing clothes in the stream and cooking over an open fire? I need my technology!

We hardly knew ye,
Johnny Depp. Just a waiter
Who served you chicken

“I’ll call you next week,”
she said about the job opp.
Why won’t you ring, phone?

Turns out I can still
hold my own on radio
Is podcasting next?

Pete the Pineapple
lives on, as superhero –
Champion of fruit

Panther-swipe wounds still
linger, a reminder of
suburban dangers

Liberally stickered
Prius parked at NPR
event. Ahh, my tribe!

Jeff and I went to the This American Life live event last night and saw the aforementioned vehicle in the parking lot, right next to another car that bore a bumper sticker reading “Somewhere in Texas, a village has lost its idiot.” Here in Mayberry (and in the neighboring, larger town where we were) we are much more likely to see huge “W’04″ decals. We had to laugh at the cliché of it all.

The show itself was charming, containing clips, outtakes, and previews from the TAL television show, as well as discussions with host Ira Glass and the show’s producer. It did strike me as I watched how much listening to or watching that show can be like reading a really excellent blog. You get a peek into someone else’s life, usually with a host (the reporter/producer for the story) that is articulate and wise and expert at drawing out the essential quirks and nuances of that person’s world.

You can listen to free podcasts of the radio show or pay $2 each to download past editions of the TV show.

BTW, speaking of peeking into someone else’s life, I finally saw Johnny Depp the other day. In a framed photograph on the counter at my dry cleaner’s, next to a newspaper article about how the cleaners laundered the costumes from the movie while it filmed nearby. So that’s like, one degree of separation, right?

Wake early, sneak down
Kids’ spidey senses trigger
Crush my workout groove

Seriously, I cannot catch a break from these two. Every other school day I drag them from their beds with barely enough time to dress and wolf down some breakfast. Turns out the secret to getting them up is for me to wake up early and try to squeeze in some exercise. Then they’re all over me like white on rice critiquing my posture (Jo, and I quote: “Mommy, you need to make your legs straight like his. … Mommy, that’s not how you do a warrior pose.”) and begging for a channel change.

Maybe I’d have better luck over at Johnny’s.