The Fishmaster has decided he is anti his super-secret Blog Name and has asked me to come up with a new one. I told him that I like ‘The Fishmaster’ because he’s all into the outdoors and it sounds cool, so I’m thinking I will have trouble coming up with a new one that he prefers. I’m working on it, though, and welcome your suggestions.

Some Fishmaster facts to help you along: he will be fourteen next week, is tall, lean, and handsome, runs cross country, and currently loves listening to LPs of the Sex Pistols and Jimi Hendrix played loudly in his room.

I had such a great time with my mom yesterday. It’s so nice that after my (ahem.) early adolescence, we are all friendly now and love to meet up and catch up. It’s such a cozy, feminine activity, and seems to be the one big bonus of being the mother of a daughter: the hope for adult manicure sessions and shopping trips and lunches together.

(Did you catch that, boys? You must HANG OUT WITH MAMA FREQUENTLY when you are all grown up.)

(…sigh…)

I’m loving Ann Taylor Loft of late. It may even have replaced my adoration for TJ Maxx (gasp!!!) as far as personal clothing shopping goes. The fit is working well, and the styles are nice – like, trendy without being high school-y – and the sales are great. Mom, on the other hand, is all into Coldwater Creek, and bought me a very pretty black dressy cardigan from there as a special treat. (and let me pick out one of my Christmas presents, which is very cute and I am going to try to forget she bought for me – la la la la la…) And then lunch at Macaroni Grill. Meanwhile, Grandma L was taking care of Rainbow at our house, so smiles all around.

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In other news: Rainbow is ALL INTO his Daddy. I’m okay, of course, and he’ll laugh with me and play with me and read books with me and (occasionally) let me kiss him, but it’s all different with Daddy: when Daddy comes home from work, Rainbow vocally insists on kisses from him. Over and over. When Daddy J tries to slip away after, like, ten kisses, Rainbow is all – NUH UHH!! and yells until his daddy sits back down and kisses him some more.

Which is super sweet and all, but… he doesn’t want to kiss me like that. Recently, at any rate.

(…sniff…)

I finished The Street of a Thousand Blossoms by Gail Tsukiyama, and it was GREAT. Kind of a family/historical saga about Japan during and after World War II (spoiler alert: it was NO FUN much of the time). The best part, though, was getting some insights into sumo. Previously I knew nothing whatsoever about sumo, other than it seemed to involve enormous Japanese men grunting and gripping each other and trying to push the other down, with a lot of posturing and staring. I still am nothing near a sumo expert, BUT have a newfound appreciation for it and wouldn’t mind catching a bit of a match sometime.

I’m currently into Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt, which is awesome and shocking and wonderful to read. ALSO quite the downer at times. Were this not a memoir and I KNOW the author makes it out of the desperate poverty of his childhood, I might put it down for something a bit more upbeat. It’s riveting, though, and will make you hugely grateful for the simple luxuries of feeding your children well and living with them in a safe, clean home. And it’s making me want to learn more about the Catholic saints. I just looked up St. Christina, whose demise (according to this site) is slightly different than McCourt describes it in his book, but still just astonishingly lurid.

I’m a big fan of taking the big boys to the bookstore and letting them pick out a book for a treat, and then perusing the aisles for whatever strikes my fancy, and I’d love to hear about any books you’ve read that you’ve loved.

I’m totally wasting my Rainbow morning nap/shower time squeezing in a post here, which is especially ridiculous considering I have nothing much to say and haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, but let’s just see where this goes.

(TOTALLY just an excuse to drink a third cup of coffee.)

Rainbow is just over the top with the cuteness of late. (As usual.) He is AGGRESSIVELY wanting to crawl and stand, but is being a bit less pushy about my helping him. He’s generally quite happy to just roll and writhe about on the floor, getting up and hands and kness, squirming, scooting backward. I think he’s going to get, like, four more teeth TODAY. I can even feel the lumps under his gums and see the outlines of the teeth up top.

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I kind of amused myself in a not-exactly-funny way by losing sleep over fretting about meteors destroying the earth. Sheesh. I had this horrible dream where I was taking care of Rainbow and waiting for Daddy J to get home, and the big boys were out and about, and the news pretty much said This Is It, People – in an hour or so we’re going to go through a meteor shower that will just knock out the planet. So I was trying to make Rainbow laugh and cuddle with him a lot, wondering where in the world Daddy J and the boys were, getting bummed that I didn’t have a stockpile of formula just in case we made it through, and growing somewhat hysterical when a random crazed neighbor threw a brick through a window and the German shepherd freaked out.

I mean, METEORS???!!

Gah.

I take it as a good sign, though, that my mind took a break from fretting that something awful would happen to little Rainbow and decided to fantasize instead about the entire world getting destroyed. ha ha…? But it’s better, the Fear is less burdensome that it was, at any rate, probably because Rainbow is just so vigorous and strong and glowing.

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We had a gold star weekend. Friday, Papa babysat and Daddy J and I went to a Gilligan’s Island themed party for Rockinrolla’s school (and our alma mater.)

O look, Daddy J is a Gilligan’s Island Fan and I am a Ginger-esque person.

Saturday we lounged, mostly, (Daddy J went to a house auction but was outbid) and that night I went with the big boys to a lovely get-together at Cousins R and N’s house, around the corner. On Sunday, we took Rainbow for his first ever zoo trip, which was awesome. One of Rockinrolla’s friends and our neighbor (Ward’s godfather) came with. It was a perfect, perfect zoo day.

oooo, SHHHHH!!! it’s the exotic and rare ALPACA…

with its famed counterpart, Bloated (Pregnant..?) Short Goat…

some completely gratuitous tickling-the-bebeh pics…

a stylin’ and profilin’ Fishmaster (at almost 14 years old)…

the awe-inspiring Obese Sentinel Meerkat (perhaps somewhat chunkier and less observant than the Wild variety)…

and the first of many Pose The Babe In Front Of The Twisty Horns pictures.

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Two of Ward’s balloons have been found thus far. One on Short Mountain, and I need to call the lady back to see where that is, because there are many Short Mountains in our state. And one in Sparta on a dairy farm. The lady called to let me know, said that she and her husband found it in a field, and that at first she thought it was a picture of her daughter, who used to have golden curls like that. She was super sweet and seemed to like the whole idea of sending off balloons in his honor, so that was nice.

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I’m feeling more in control about the whole Dread Pig Syndrome and Flus In General, as well. Rockinrolla actually had it, so he’s covered, and the Fishmaster had the nose mist vaccine. After giving it a lot of thought, Daddy J and I decided to vaccinate Rainbow, too. He doesn’t go to day care or nursery school or anything like that, but does get out in public a bit, of course, so we were kind of torn. It was a one-shot deal with none of the evil Thimerosol, and thankfully he had no side effects whatsoever from it. (Neither did the Fishmaster.) I’m pretty sure Daddy J had a mild version of it, and I think I had a super-mild case myself (we both took Tamiflu, as this happened on the heels of Rockinrolla’s episode) so I think we will skip the vaccine for us. And I think we’ll all skip the regular flu vaccine; we’ve never taken it before.

What about you? Are you vaccinating yourself and/or the fam for H1N1? Or the regular flu? Are you super-worried about it, just mildly concerned, or do you think it’s all a bit overblown?

Now I know (I KNOW!) that just about every mama thinks her baby is impossibly beautiful, and I started to feel a little embarrassed about actually feeling that way, too, and then realized that of COURSE we all feel that way, because it’s TRUE:

In some of the pics, he is looking up at some wind chimes on the porch that fascinate him, in some the kitten, Karen, is getting his attention, and in some, of course, he just wants to eat the camera.

In other Rainbow news, he has now realized that Yobaby fruity yogurt is just as delicious as Gerber #2 mac-n-cheese with veggies. So he likes to alternate courses of each dish during meals now: a serving of yogurt, a serving of mac, then yogurt, then mac… It’s pretty sweet, in a bossy kind of way – he’ll decide he’s had enough of one thing and clamp his lips shut and hum in irritation until you break out the other thing.

And he’s full tilt with the backward scoot-crawling, the being brought to a coffee table and holding himself up fairly well, clicking his tongue, shaking his head, and clapping his hands.

“Happiness is not achieved by the conscious pursuit of happiness; it is generally the by-product of other activities.”

~Aldous Huxley (1894-1963)

I read this last night and just keep chewing on it contentedly. I love it. It makes me feel like “pursuit of happiness” is kind of silly; we should be pursuing what is gratifying, interesting, helpful to others, beautifying the world – and the happiness will follow.

By the way, I get these daily quotes (with a little discussion from the sender) from Lisa Coffey. They are often really great, and not spammy in the least – just one a day, like a mental, spiritual vitamin.

Galloping, galloping, galloping on through November, with Thanksgiving in my lap, ready for attention, and Christmas pawing at my foot and pressing its nose against my leg.

(oh, Dana, I miss you.)

Some snaps of Ward’s birthday party, celebrated two days early on October 26th.

Yes, Rainbow, it’s a special day.

The Fishmaster dressed as Wormwood from The Screwtape Letters for his school Halloween party. Dashing, no?

And the Fishmaster at his school’s annual 5K trail run. Through truly heroic conditions (like knee-deep mud) he slogged on through and came in third in his age group.

While looking quite handsome throughout.

And, just in case you were wondering, Rainbow and I were matchy-matchy cow-people and Daddy J was a zombie Rock and Roller for Halloween.

Boo!

mmmm, but it’s magnificent outside today.

The sky is a perfect blue,and the leaves are half on/half off, so both sky and ground are blanketed in color. The air is crisp. The pets are happy. The baby is beautiful.

Yesterday, Rainbow woke early from his afternoon nap at about 2:00. He usually sleeps for at least two hours, and this time just slept for a little over an hour. And, my, my, my, but that boy was INCONSOLABLE. He’s hardly ever a crier, but he just could not be made happy. We tried feeding, playing, books – and decided he just must still be tired and possibly sick. Dosed him with Tylenol and put him back to bed.

He slept.

And slept.

And slept.

We went with it, thinking he must be coming down with something, and I braced myself for a no-sleep night. Got videos ready and a bottle, reasssured myself that naps would be aplenty the next day.

He woke at 9:30 and had about 7 ounces of formula and then went back to sleep – until 5:30 am.

I, of course, slept fitfully. I had to keep listening to the monitor to make sure he was breathing, and had anxiety dreams about him all night. But whatever – that beats contending with an actually sick, miserable child any day of the week. He woke up happy as a clam, had a few bites of breakfast and a lot of formula, and is back down for his morning nap.

I’m hoping he just fought off some illness that was trying to waylay him and he WON, my big boy.

Good job, buddy.

O, save me from myself. I am VERRRRY tempted to let my inner passive aggressive beeyotch out to play.

Here’s the background: Daddy J and I go to a fundraiser/dinner/music performance on Monday night. We have a great time. We bring wine. There is a silent auction and I bid on four of the items and win three of them. Not a whole lot of bids; I was pretty much the first or second bidder on all the items. One of the items is a necklace that is resting on a scarf. We pay for the stuff at the end of the evening and the hall is pretty much cleared out. There are only a couple of things left on the tables. I ask a fancy looking older lady, whom I assume is one of the fundraiser people, The scarf doesn’t go with the necklace, does it? She is emphatic: Oh, YES, it does! Take both of them! Isn’t it pretty? You won BOTH!

So, Bonus, I think. Not so much that I need another scarf or this one is all that and a bag of chips, but the colors match the colors of the Habitat ball this coming spring and it will be nice to put in a basket or use in some decorative capacity.

I put it away and think no more of it.

I get a message on the machine from a fairly irate sounding woman on Wednesday telling me that she believes I bought a necklace at the auction and that I have her scarf. I return the call and I am the nice cop to her huffy cop. Her: Apparently the catering staff was telling people that the scarves went with the necklaces and that was NOT the case. That is my PERSONAL scarf and I would like it back. Me: Well, I would be happy to return it to you. How should we make that happen? Her: You can just take it to the downtown cafe with a note and I will be in to pick it up sometime next week. No hurry.

So, fine.

Except: I do the fundraising auction thing, people, and it chafes me that she didn’t even thank me for attending her event or for bidding on her stuff and giving financial support. Or act apologetic for the confusion or explain that she knew it wasn’t my fault that I took it. She did say, I hope you enjoy the necklace, but she should have said, We really appreciate your paying to come to our fundraising event and for buying stuff at the auction, and hope you will come again to an event in the future, and I am so sorry for this misunderstanding.

And: Her repitition of the words “my personal scarf” made me think it was a favorite scarf that went with her favorite dress or something. But no! When I was packing it up for her, I saw that the price tag was still on it. From Cato. It started out at $11.99 and after numerous markdowns was marked at $1.99.

Now, I get the buying stuff on cheapo clearance thing and LOVING the fire out of it, but am I wrong that it would have been nice for her to have been a bit more humble and sweet about the whole thing, considering it was a brand new $2 scarf she’s giving me attitude about? And I was supporting the fundraiser she is involved in with my purchases?

Here’s my ethical dilemma, and you have the power to SAVE ME FROM MYSELF. I currently have the scarf all packed up in a clear gallon ziploc with a note with her name on it (as instructed) and the super-markdown price tag on display through the plastic, next to her name. This makes my inner bitch snicker with glee; although she would quite likely be completely indifferent, she might be totally embarrassed. Plus, I want her to know that I know she was giving me grief over a cheap scarf that wasn’t really part of her wardrobe yet.

But AM I EVIL???

(dang!!! once again, can’t get the poll to save. What’s UP with that? Bummer. I LOVE polls.)

BUT: FINE. Here are the options I was going to put in the poll. Vote and stay my hand of evildoing, or else add your strength to my wicked twitch.

A. Yes, that’s evil. Hide the price tag. Why would you want to make her feel bad, even if she wasn’t all delicate with you, Miss Treatmewithkidgloves, on the phone? She clearly loves the scarf, so just give it back in a gift bag and be sweet about it.

B. I like the display of the price tag in the clear ziploc idea. She was not-so-sweet about the whole thing anyway, plus it doesn’t actually hurt anything and she’s got her scarf back in the end.

C. Well, I’d make it harder for her to get the stupid scarf back. Make her call a couple more times, just for fun. Mwah, ha, haaaa….

D. No, I’d never be THAT awful, but hmmm… How about giving it back with the price tag shown, but reversed, so she knows you saw it and know she’s never worn it with anything and that it was super-cheap, but she’s not embarrassed at the cafe?

edited to add: A VISUAL AID

And, the deed is done. I did, in fact, opt for B. Probably, she will not even notice or care that the price tag is showing (although maybe she will, and maybe she will think, huh, I did present some attitude over this scarf that perhaps was disproportionate, especially considering that the scarf-taker didn’t knowingly swipe it…) but for certain the scarf will be protected from any food or cooking odors at the cafe and not jumbled in a drawer, so that’s good. So, it’s a win-win, as far as I’m concerned.