Rest In Peace, or Pieces. Whatever.
On Friday, my keyboard died. It was the keyboard I started using with my 386. With Windows 3.11. Yeah, you read that right. I had that keyboard for almost 12 years. I probably wrote 1000 pages on it between college, emails and my extensive creative failures. Let us not discuss the hours I spent playing tetris on it. Or acrophobia. I miss acrophobia.

Right now it is in the trash with withered strawberries, dirty diapers, and the other insults my household has to offer. I feel it deserved better. However, J took it off the desk while I was out running errands. If I take it out and put it in its own trashbag he will ask "why?" Surely, there is no way to say "It seems disrespectful to the keyboard" without sounding like a whackaloon.

I do not like the "new" keyboard supplied by my husband. The keys make a tinny sound when I strike them. Bad Keyboard Accent. The feel is all wrong-- not enough stiffness. Too responsive, too eager. I feel like that other keyboard is at home, waiting for my call. I don't respect this new keyboard.

In addition to the particles of skin, hair, and food between the keys-- what other parts of me does it retain? What, you know, metaphysical stuff. Are there dreams in there still? Aspirations? Hopefully a few disappointments and embarassments are in there and as long as no one turns it upside down and shakes it, the keyboard will take them to the landfill where they will rot. Unlike the ecological nightmare known as the disposable diaper.
- posted by Anna Trueblood @ 3:15 PM 1 comments

 
Shitty Parenting
Today, Monkey wanted to go outside. I am home sick with strep and didn't want to go outside with him. A few minutes after I locked both deadbolts, he put on his shoes and coat and said "Mom! I need to go to work!"

"No, you don't. They fired you."

"I'm NOT fired."

"Actually, they outsourced your job to a kid in Bangladesh who will do twice the work for half the pay."

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

Thank goodness he didn't ask about his severance pay.

Meanwhile, Maus sat in the exersaucer openly laughing at us, waiting for a chance to pull our hair. Rascal!
- posted by Anna Trueblood @ 4:05 PM 1 comments

 
Ich habe das krieping Krud
So, I'm sick. My tonsils are a fright to behold-- so swollen THEY TOUCH. However, my dad, Mr. Fucking Perfect, is having a far worse weekend. He bifurcated the tip of his thumb with the table saw. He was making a jig for his router and didn't use a pusher board. WAY TO GO, DAD! Then while eating a piece of candy he pulled off a crown.

In other news Monkey and J are fishing! The season opened this weekend so they gathered up life vests, lures, rods, reels, and buckets. They forgot the camera though. They are practicing for their big trip to the Sandhills in May to go fishing with J's dad.

Maus is napping. Apparently, making boogers is exhausting as he took 3 naps yesterday totalling 5 hours. He appears to be far less bothered by his cold than I am by mine. Lucky baby.
- posted by Anna Trueblood @ 10:53 AM 0 comments

 
2B or -2B
I have a serious case of Hamlet Syndrome when it comes to posting. There are a lot of things on my mind, but I am just not sure I want them out in cyberspace with my internet psued on them. I write, then delete, then write, then delete all the while worrying that I am violating the privacy of my loved ones or revealing too much about myself Everything I say here is public and permanent. I could make a topsecret blog and not let anyone read it. Then what would I put here? I am just weighed down right now with my own junk, some junk from my siblings, some spousal junk, and junk from my invisipeeps at www.theperfectworld.us . I'm just so tired. Things are a mess and I don't know if I can fix a damned thing.
- posted by Anna Trueblood @ 1:27 PM 0 comments

 
The Preschooler Code
Just as there is a guy code -- never date your buddy's sister, and a girl code-- never date your buddy's ex, so too exists the Preschooler Code.

You must, at some time between the ages of 36 and 48 months, have the following conversation with your mother, in public, really loudly:

M: I'm a boy!
AT: Yes you are.
M: You're a girl.
AT: That's right.
M: You don't have a penis, mom.
- posted by Anna Trueblood @ 3:28 PM 1 comments

 

On laundry days, they dress as sports fans. 
- posted by Anna Trueblood @ 10:22 AM 0 comments

 

Here are the 4 of us on 2/27/2005 
- posted by Anna Trueblood @ 10:21 AM 0 comments

 
The Greatest Show on Earth
We went to the circus on Sunday. Monkey didn't want to go because daycare took him on Friday. (Annoying tidbit: no permission slips, no note sent home, not listed on the calendar.) Finally, I told him that I hadn't gone in a long time, since I was a little girl, and I really wanted him to take me since he now knew all about the circus. He said "Clowns scare me. I don't want to go." He relented though when I said we could eat junk food.

We dropped off Maus at my parents-- and get this, my mom paid me. Everyone should have a babysitter like that! Actually, she instructed me to buy Monkey a present at the circus. (Psuedo-light saber for Monkey and a Schiaparelli pink Monkey for Maus). So we went down to the Civic Auditorium, then past it, then past it some more. We parked about a 15 minute walk away, because I am morally opposed to paying to park. On our way in an animal activist tried to give Monkey a picture of a dead elephant. I was all set to yell at him but J dragged me off. Once inside there were clowns everywhere greeting the crowd. Monkey cried and J carried him. We got to our seats and J went to procure the junk food. Hot dogs, popcorn, soda, and a pretzel. I was disappointed at no cotton candy, but I have picked up the shattered pieces of my life and moved on.

Things started up with a juggler while J was gone. He was really amazing. Juggling is one of those things I've never been able to learn. Then came the clowns. Apparently, those Shriners are sensitive to the fact that some are scared by clowns so they tried to make them less scary. Oh no, wait, they made them MORE scary. They were dressed as Dentists. Complete with a hypodermic needle approximately the size of a two year old. Then they tried to remove the sore tooth from the patient clown. With a jackhammer. When that didn't work, they tried dynamite. Which they placed on his lap. I am thinking that's not the best way to remove a tooth. It is the best way to prevent freaky baby clowns though. Turned out they blew up the wrong tooth. Oh the humor. The comic stylings. You've never seen such a quiet crowd at a circus. Except for a small child crying loudly. I confess, that was me. The only way that skit could have been scarier is if there had been spiders dressed as Nazis.

Despite the trauma, my prevailing thought for most of the circus, was how glad I am to have Monkey and Maus and J. Every day, even when there are whining and bodily fluids and tantrums, there's still fun and cuteness. I may have also had some impure thoughts about the Italian Trapeze Artist Brothers as well.

Last night, while making dinner, Monkey and I were telling knock knock jokes.
AT: Knock Knock!
M: Who's dere?
AT: Olive!
M: Olib who?
AT: Olive YOU, Monkey-man!
M: I lub you too, Monkey-girl!
So that's how cute it is around my house.
- posted by Anna Trueblood @ 10:12 AM 1 comments