She needs to stay this age forever.  NEEDS to.  For my own, selfish, maternal reasons.

The stray/quasi-adopted cat next door got into a fight with Kafka again. Here’s the bullet point history.

* Kafka has been in fights with him before, to the tune of over $300 in vet’s bills.

* We neutered Kafka for his own good, but also hoping that the fighting would lessen.

* I asked the neighbors Read the rest of this entry »

Emma, Emma, Emma. She has some somatic sensitivities. It’s usually not much more than what would bother you or me. An itchy tag, a tight shirt sleeve. But every so often she has a clinical problem with how something feels.

Enter underwear. Read the rest of this entry »

I am newly “employed” (it’s glory-paid only) over at The Offside writing a fan blog on David Beckham.  So my time is being split between the two.  I am VERY excited to be doing the Becks blog, as I love all things soccer, and I love my LA Galaxy with Becks and Landon Donovan.  So come visit me over there when you get a chance.

Here he is, on the prowl.

He got a new one this morning. Unfortunately, I had left the living room window open for some morning breeze. So as I’m dressing Mira in my bedroom I hear paws on the wood floor and a muffled “meow.” There he was with the mole. He dropped it for me and looked quite proud of himself. I checked to make sure it was dead (thank God it was — a loose mole in my house? Ack!) and then praised him.

You should see how nice our yard is looking with fewer and fewer moles. Kafka is worth all the vet bills for sure.

And then asks for me to draw a “daddy rocket” because she can’t do it (she says with despair).

So I take the blue marker with the intent to draw something space shuttle-like.

The “USA” was a last minute addition because I was embarrassed. Does it look more like a space shuttle now?

There are some good recent additions to the website, but this one has me rolling. It’s especially funny on this rainy Sunday morning.

“Make me some fucking breakfast!”

Way of life? My (shrinking) ass!!

You know what it is about food? It’s not that I’m feeding repressed feelings. It’s not because I missed another dose of medication. It’s because it TASTES SO DAMN GOOD. Food tastes good. Good. Good!! And yeah, sometimes it’s a huge bunch of grapes and a bowl of oatmeal that tastes so good. And other times it’s as much starch, meat, and cheese I can possibly fit into one recipe that tastes so good. And when I’m hungry, I want to taste good things. It’s pleasurable. Like a fine wine (4 points per glass) or a mild cigar. Pleasure!

They should make some sort of food vibrator. Something that knocks the socks off your palate, while not being the real thing. Boy would that sell.

Emma’s in an argumentative phase. It started about 3 years ago, and we expect it to last for another 14 or so. At age 6 she is emphatically right about everything. There is no matter too small for her to be right about.

So yesterday she comes inside from playing after school. She’s wearing her pink fake-crocs and the bottoms are filthy. As she climbs onto the couch next to me I see the filth and catch her.

“Emma! No shoes on the couch — those are disgusting.”

“No they aren’t! They were just on the porch staaaaairs.”

Pulling her shoe off and showing her, “Look, dirty.”

“No they aaaaaaren’t.”

“Alright then,” handing her the shoe, “If they aren’t dirty then lick them. Go ahead. Lick it!”

She sticks out her tongue, smiling at me, and slowly moves the shoe toward her face. It’s a textbook mommy vs. 6 year-old standoff. She brings it even closer, still smiling and waiting for me to break. I stare back at her, impassive.

“Blech! I can’t do it!” while laughing.

“Aha!” I proclaim, “So it’s dirty!?”

“Yeah,” she concedes, and we both laugh.

Mommy 1 Emma 0