Forgotten Random Friday Observations

—There’s nothing funnier to a five-year-old (or seven-year-old or three-year-old) than a reference to excrement. Bonus giggles for scatological rhyme.

—I have written 15 pages on the script.

Random Friday Observations

—Those “mint crisp” m&m’s are unnatural. They might even glow in the dark.

—I can see nearly two dozen houses from my front yard (about half our street). Ours is one of only two in view that does not have a pick-up truck (we are so totally in Texas). Ours is the only multi-driver household with only one vehicle. Three houses have more vehicles than drivers.

—A person who ignores his own foolishness in order to callously mock what he perceives to be my foolishness is just a big dumb jerk (please use your imagination to fill in your favorite synonyms for ‘big dumb jerk’)

—English muffins are cool. I made them for the first time yesterday. They’re a regular yeast dough (yeast, sugar, mostly milk for liquid, no salt or oil, flour), but get this (seriously, I didn’t know) they’re NOT baked! I know, I’m a dork. It never occurred to me that those flat golden crusts on the top and bottom are best achieved by the direct application of the dough to a heated surface. The recipe I followed suggests a skillet over low heat. I would have been cooking muffins for eight years if I’d done it that way. I opted instead for a griddle that held many many muffins at one time. They’re so much tastier than the prepackaged frozen ones, and they’ve been very popular with the little people, who have so far turned them into breakfast toast, small pizzas, jelly extravaganzas, and cheesy toasty snacks.

—(Partner’s observation of me) I am happier when I’m writing regularly. He’s right too. It’s true.

—Research indicates that in spite of greater than 80% relative humidity (“air you can wear” to quote a local meteorological type), cotton jersey sheets can dry on the clothesline if given enough time (8-15 hours), so long as they are subjected to a wind tunnel.

Gravity generally pulls the laundry down toward the ground rather than out toward the fence.

A Moment of Silence

The sling formerly known as Blue (2004)

My next-door neighbor is a new grandma (again). She’s keeping the wee one from time-to-time and asked me today about the baby sling I used to carry the Sonars in. She’d like to make one.

There are no new Sonars planned around here, and I’ve slowly given away most of our baby things as they’ve gotten bigger. The slings I have been unable to part with. I have three. Two that I used (one padded and one unpadded ring sling), and one that Partner used (a gigantic padded ring sling). I have pulled them out several times, thinking to give them away to someone who will use them, only to tear up and shove them back in the drawer.
Green and poufy (2000)
This morning though, I pulled them out and tossed them in the washing machine (they are dusty), thinking that I’d lend them. Neighbor could borrow them and I could help her figure out how to use them before she makes her own. I count this as growth.

When I pulled them out of the dryer (seriously, the padded one would take eight months to dry in 80% relative humidity), I found one lovely fluffy green one, one smooth technicolor one (my favorite in the heat down here), and the fragments of what used to be a light blue fluffy one.

The fabric, worn by years of wearing, washing, sitting in the sun on the back dash of the car, being spit-up on, pooped on, chewed on (no, not usually in that order), swam in, slept in, slept on, leaked on, sat on, wrapped around, dragged around… well, the fabric was finished, and came apart along the entire length of the sling.

Better in the washer than holding a babe, I say. But still, my heart flip-flopped a little bit when I thought of all the hours I toted the three babies around—each one regularly until they were at least 12 or 15 months old, and occasionally well up to and even past 2 years—in that faded blue piece of cloth.

None of the Sonars are babies anymore, none would fit in the sling, nor do I think I could heft them for very long even if they could. Still, like a fabric echo of the physical closeness of their babyhoods, I could hold that sling in my hands and remember physically what it was like. Could still smell, even after many washings and a layer of dust, what we smelled like, that breast-milky, warm-baby smell.

*sigh*

My melancholia lasted about 42 seconds, though, before I took out the seam ripper and started disassembling it. Wondering if I can take the fabric and make it into something else.

An echo of an echo.

Technicolor Wrap (2005)

Come Join in the Frenzy

Tomorrow begins the second annual ScriptFrenzy. This is related to November’s National Novel Writing Month, by the Office of Letters and Light, but for scripty things rather than novels.

I wrote my very first screenplay during last year’s Frenzy, and it was a blast. I learned so much about my writing style, about constructing dialogue, about ways to organize and visualize a story.

I’ve drafted three novels as well, but my first ScriptFrenzy is easily my favorite piece of writing.

If you have any sort of writing inclination whatsoever, you should check it out. Even if you don’t have any writing inclination, go check it out. Recommend that your friends and siblings check it out. Ileana, tell Patrick to check it out. ;) Make a donation while you’re there to support their young writer’s program, which provides curriculum and instruction ideas to put writing into the classroom for students of all ages.

This year, they’ve opened up the possibilities to include comic book scripts, radioplays, television scripts, and shorts. The goal is to write 100 formatted script pages during the month of April. That’s just 3.3 pages per day.

You could do that.

Seriously.

Give it a try. I’m “eglentyne” over there too if you want to add me to your writing buddies.

Overweening Mama Pride

Sonar X7 won a first place ribbon in the school science fair today and earned a spot in the regional science fair in May.

Can I just say how adorable it was, the Sonar’s modest surprise and light-up-the face joy when the first place ribbon was announced. *big happy sigh*

He gets it from me. (annoying smugness)

For those of you who would point out that the genetics in question include a healthy donation from someone who once spent several years working on a Ph.D. in Biochemistry before oppressing the masses in public education I say (with a surprising lack of modesty and maturity). Pshaw. Though I was more mathy than sciencey, with at least a decade of math geekiness under my belt, I did earn a Biochemistry degree before switching allegiances to the humanities. Partner, bless his soul, experienced adult-onset geekiness. AND more than half of that heritable genetic material is from me. Seriously. Go look it up. Then brush your teeth.