The last three books I've read have been tales of Barsoom.  I've just ploughed my way through A Princess of Mars, The Gods of Mars, and Warlord of Mars.  They're the original pulp fiction.  There's lots of swashbuckling and adventure and cliffhangers and such.  I find that it should be taken in smaller doses than 3 books, though.  By the end of the third book, some of the themes that were charming at first made me sort of roll my eyes and look forward to the end of the book so I could start something else.  I'll go back and pick up from Thuvia, Fair Maid of Mars after a bit of a rest.  It's just that having every character you meet be the finest "x" on 2 planets or having every puzzle solved by deus ex machina starts to get intrusive after a while.

I'm therefore moving on to the much more grounded in reality The Elfstones of Shannara *grin*

When I first got a cat, I commented that having a cat changes your perception of clutter in your environment:  a wadded up piece of paper becomes a potential cat toy, for instance.

Having a baby changes your perception of what constitutes a game.  The Larval Unit has discovered the World of Sharing.  She will pick up a slipper off of the floor and offer it to me.  When I take it from her and exclaim, "Thank you!" she busts into a big grin.  Then I give the slipper back to her and say, "There you go!" and she busts into another big grin.  Then she offers it back to me.  We could do it for hours.  Well, minutes.  It's a big game.  I'm not sure if I would have regarded handing a slipper back and forth a big game a year ago, but there you go.

Another item that I had not heretofore properly considered the fun potential of as a toy is the spoon, but that's another story.

Alright, so I mentioned that I built a worm bin/bag based on amyoungs' instructable.  I deviated a little, though.
1.  I used an IKEA Antonius frame for the... frame.

2.  I wanted the bag to be usable as a drawer, so instead of making the bag a drawstring, I made a series of buttonholes around the top.  I was worried about structural integrity, so I went over each buttonhole twice.  The buttonholes are at 3" intervals.  The worms need it to be dark, so I made sure to leave plenty of fabric above the buttonholes so that when the drawer is closed, there's no light leaking in around the top.


3. I used the buttonholes to lace the bag to the inside of a bottomless wire basket. 


4.  The bottomless wire basket I made by taking one of the wire drawers for the Antonius and using my dremel to cut the bottom off.


5.  The rubbermaid bin at the bottom is just a plastic Antonius drawer.  Here's the whole shebang:


I dumped the receptacle from our shredder into the Huggies box, so I always have shredded paper to sprinkle on top of whatever food I put in there.    Our shredder protocol has undergone revision.  Now all staples are removed, and no little plasticene windows go in there, but we shred a much broader variety of our junk mail rather than tossing it in the recycling bin. 

We'll see how this goes.  I've dumped the first batch of worms in there, and I've only found a few lemming escapee worms.  I've read that that's pretty normal, though, and should go away.  Hopefully that's true.  It seems to be settling down.  I'm excited about having a more direct role in recycling more of my stuff, though! 

Sunday night we had a friend over for dinner.  His wife and son were out of town, so I thought it'd be nice to have people to hang out with for Father's Day.  He left late that evening, and HRH and I finished straightening up.  Then HRH headed upstairs to get ready for bed while I pumped.  When I got upstairs, he was just falling asleep, whereas I still had to get ready for bed. 

Now, see, I don't just lay my weary head to rest and fall asleep.  There's a whole process involved, sort of like the dog that has to turn around three times before going to sleep, except for me, it's reading, and it takes like half an hour to an hour.  Winding down and all, you know.  So anyway, it seems like I've just fallen asleep when the Larval Unit sounds her mighty yawp.  As I sound my silent scream of dismay in my head, I feel a heavy thud upon my bod.  "The baby's upset about something, " HRH astutely observes.  "I changed her diaper when I went to bed.."  Then he rolls back over.  I curse silently in my head and drag myself back out of bed to investigate.  There's nothing wrong, she just needs to be comforted and put back to bed.  Baby nightmares, I guess.  Since I was now fully awake, though, the "going to sleep" process had to be restarted.

The next day at work, I drag around the halls like a zombie, and I tell several people that there should be a special circle of Hell for husbands who wake their wives up to go tend to the baby when they got to sleep an hour earlier and you both have to go to work in the morning.

The next night, HRH went upstairs to get ready for bed ahead of me when suddenly I heard the Larval Unit squawk.  "NO!" I cried as I dashed to the stairs.  HRH was just coming out of the bedroom and gave me a deeply quizzical look.  "You will NOT go in there and change her diaper and then use that as an excuse to stay in bed when she cries in the middle of the night.  I forbid it!  I CLAIM THIS DIAPER!!!"  So saying, I strode purposefully into her room and changed that diaper with an enthusiasm that was out of proportion to the task at hand. 

When I walked triumphantly into our bedroom afterwards, HRH said, "You realize that last night, I was just telling you that I'd changed her diaper fairly recently so I didn't think that was the problem, right?"

"Ah," I said, "but you can see how in the context of whenever I say "her diaper needs changing" you say "I changed the last one" as an excuse for why you shouldn't have to change this one, that message would be a little hard to interpret, right?"  

So I guess I won the diaper turf battle, but he may still have won the war.  I will say that "I CLAIM ThiS DIAPER" was, before last night, a phrase that I would not have anticipated myself using conversationally.  Parenthood changes you.

I thought I was being clever.  I lost my Costco card a while ago, but I didn't want to get a new one because I didn't like my haircut.  I finally managed to convince my hairdresser that I really wanted my hair THAT short, and I decided to seize the opportunity and get my Costco card replaced.  I pinned my bangs at a jaunty angle and sallied forth to the membership services counter.  However, the joke's on me.  When I pin my bangs at a jaunty angle, it exposes my white streak in a manner that looks sort of edgy in person, but the Costco photo is in black and white.  As a result, my Costco picture now looks like someone rubbed a spot about the size of a pencil eraser off of my forehead.

Sigh.  Perhaps they look old rather than edgy after all.

The Larval Unit has several stupid human tricks up her sleeve.  She's been "smacking" her lips for some time, and also she'd growl at anyone who growled at her.  About a month ago, she learned how to clap her hands, but she stopped growling.  Then, a couple of weeks ago, she learned how to blow razzberries, but she stopped the hand clapping.  In the last couple of days. she's started clapping her hands again, but she refuses to blow razzberries.  It's like she's a baby with two upgrade slots and a poorly designed interface for switching out the skills.  I'm going to have to be more on top of videoing the stupid human tricks when they're happening!
( Here are the Stupid Human Tricks I *do* have video of... )

It's been one of thoes weekends.  HRH was on a deployment that kept him at work until midnight on Friday and then back to work until 7:30 on Saturday.  When HRH isn't around to entertain me, I get super productive. 

Things I've accomplished this weekend:
1.  Finished the modified worm bin I've been working on based on amyoungs design (I'll post pictures later)
2.  Loaded the Larval Unit into the car and scouted Woodinville for actual worms.
3.  Developed a total girl crush on James McAvoy as a result of watching Becoming Jane.

Part of the modified worm bin involved using a Dremel cutting wheel to take the bottom off of a wire basket.  First of all, since one of my developers managed to lodge rusted metal in his eye this week, poking my eye out with flying sparks was heavy on my mind, so I was a good girl and busted out the goggles.  Then I started thinking about breathing in all the vaporized metal, so I took a big swath of felt and wrapped it around my nose and mouth.  I looked like a Tusken Raider, but I didn't have sparks in my eyes.  Or lungs. 

Also, I don't know if you've ever looked at a big cylinder of cutting wheels and wondered how you would know that it's time to replace the wheel (aside from it breaking).  It turns out that the act of cutting stuff wears away the edge of the wheel.  This happens at a rate that's practically imperceptible at larger circumferences, but then there's a point that you reach where the circumference is small enough that the wheel suddenly starts to disappear QUITE rapidly.  It makes sense, but I was startled to say the least.

Also, in pursuit of my newly found crush on James McAvoy, I watched a movie I had no interest in aside from the fact that it had him in it and was available in streaming format on Netflix and bought Wanted on DVD (Hollywood Video's 4 for $30 sale FTW).  I must say that I wouldn't go out of my way to watch Penelope again, but he was definitely the best thing in there (besides Reese Witherspoon, but she just had a small part).

There's a place at Crossroads Mall called Thyme for Soup.  I'm totally in love with it.  It's owned by the same guy with one eyebrow who owns the Medierranean place that I can't remember the name of.  Today they had a soup called "Chicken Enchilada Stew."  It tasted like it had chicken, green chiles, cream, a hint of cheddar, perhaps a ranchero sauce, creamed corn, and great huge chunks of polenta in it.  I was in heaven.  I'm now determined to find a recipe that contains many of the preceding elements, or, failing that, a number of recipes that I can combine together into a reverse engineered Enchilada Stew.

mmm.

A teenage girl and her boyfriend walked by us, and as they passed us, she said, "Pandas are just EVIL.  You can't trust pandas at ALL."

You learn something new every day, I guess.  I just wonder what the conversational trail was that led to that particular verbal spur.  The Supermall was also where I was when I saw a Wilford Brimley analog in black pumps.  It's also the location of the fabled Brawl at the Mall.  I think I may need to invest more time in serious people watching down there.

Costco is forever sending me newsletters about thematic things that they've got on special.  This week, I received an email from them with the subject line, "Shop for great Father's Day gifts and more!"  Among the things advertised in this mailing were tires, a cat tree, carpeting, and moving boxes. 

At least further down there were some gaming systems and golf clubs sprinkled in among the Designer Aluminum Offset Canes, the wheelchairs, and the will making software.  I'm thinking that maybe the Costco people's dads are WAY older than the Larval Unit's dad, or even her Granddad. 

Ivy has recently started pulling her lower lip over her upper one.  It's not not like pouting.  It's more like concentrating.  I recognize it.  I do it a lot.

HRH brought her home from day care the other day and said, "She has a new face she makes now.  It's like this," and he proceeded to stick his lower lip out into a pout.  "See?  There!  She's doing it now!"

I looked over at her, and I saw something like this:


"She's not pouting," I said.  "She's just being serious." 

At this point Ivy made her contribution to the conversation in the form of "PBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTT"

"Alright," I amended, "perhaps not THAT serious."

Universe: 2  Rkimedes: 0

Option 1: Give her a Toy (OK)


Option 2: Give her Not a Toy (Better)



Option 3: Give her Not a Baby Toy (Better)


( Option 4: Give her Not a Human Toy (Best) )

Moviescape coined a term for talking about that sound people make, the one that's like a scream in reverse, the one that's half scream, half gasp, the scasp.

Here's my scasp story.  HRH and I were driving down the road one day, and for some reason, we were talking about what I'd do if I discovered the diamond was missing from my wedding ring.  I don't know why.  In any case, we were on that topic, and I said, "Yeah, if I looked down and saw that the diamond was missing from my ring, I'd probably be all like... [at this point I looked down and noticed that a diamond was, in fact, missing from my ring]"

"*SCAAAAAAASSSSSSPPPPP*" I said, "there's a diamond missing from my ring!!!!!!!" 

"Don't you think that reaction is a little over the top?" HRH asked, not having looked over to see what I was scasping about.

"No," I said, "there's actually a diamond missing from my ring.  That's just apparently the noise I would, in fact, make under those circumstances."

It's good to know that the universe's sense of humor is still in existence and its comic timing is at least sometimes spot on.

I once had an objectionable roommate.  Most people have had, at one point in time or another, a roommate with whom they did not get along perfectly.  This was not that roommate.  This was a roommate who, when I left my bedroom door open when I went out at night so that it was clear that I was gone would put the chain on the door and then refuse to get up to let me in when I got home.  This was the roommate who, when I told her I'd had enough and was leaving told me, "But I made a New Year's Resolution to be nice to you!."  This was the roommate who, when I packed up my stuff and left said of the plates I'd left for her use, "But you left us the crappy ones."  I packed those plates, too. 

On the evening of my departure, a mutual friend came over to moderate.  I told them I was leaving, but that I would continue to pay full rent til the end of the lease.  I sat and listened to her tirade that listed all of my various faults in minute detail.  The friend who was moderating was actually mad at me for taking her insults so calmly.  About an hour in, though, I snapped.  I stood up from the chair I was sitting in (which was mine) and bellowed in a voice much louder than any other noise that has ever proceeded from my head either before or since, "I DON'T LIVE HERE.  ANY.  MORE."  I then picked up my chair and walked back to my bedroom (it was still mine, I was paying for it) and closed the door and just sobbed.  I can get quite mad at times, but it usually blows over in about twenty minutes.  On this occasion, though, after twenty minutes I'd simmered down to "shaking with rage."

From that point on, that roommate was afraid to be in the same room with me.  She started telling people that she was afraid I was going to come attack her with a knife or something.  I thought she was a melodramatic bitch.  Incandragon, though, recently had a post on the word "livid" in which she mentioned that when someone goes past red with anger and into pale with anger, that's when you have to watch out because they've been pushed into the "I'm going to attack and kill you" zone.  I never harbored any such intentions towards her, but I was incandescently angry.  Perhaps she recognized how far she'd pushed me and how badly that could go.  Perhaps she was less melodramatic than I was giving her credit for.

Whatever.  She was still a bitch.

I believe that the last two books that I've read have been directly improved by having my expectations set properly by incandragon having read them immedaitely before.

Lover Avenged, by J. R. Ward
I believe her comment was something to the effect that there was far too much plot present for what was ostensibly a tawdry romance novel.  With my expectations set, I was able to appreciate the fact that there was a lot of character building, especially in light of my previous criticism of the series, which was that she builds interesting characters and then we never hear from them again.  Wrath and Beth were grappling with some serious, meaty "after happily ever after" issues.  There was also a lot of character building of previously secondary characters, which I think will set up the next several books in the series. 

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith
I think incandragon's comment was that this was aimed at people who were casual fans of the book and who liked zombies.  This placed me SQUARELYin its target demographic.  It was a total hoot.  The first line is "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains."  I think that pretty much sets the tone of the book.  I think that might be the only use of the word zombie in the book, though.  The rest of the time they're the "afflicted" or the "unmentionables," these being proper Victorian zombie slayers.  In any case, I've enjoyed it a great deal.

Now time to figure out what's next...

• 11:05 ba-BA-ba is apparently Ivy for "Where's my lunch? Elevenses! I DEMAND ELEVENSES!" #

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We kicked off the weekend with a rogue Silona sighting at Remedy Teas, and then moved into our Weekend of Dirt.  I weeded the rockery, and then we went to Flower World to get some plants to eat.  We got a bay laurel (so those of you who cook with bay leaves might start having them forced upon you in quantity as it turns into a tree), jalapenos, rosemary (the last one didn't survive the Winter of Doom), and garlic.  We'll see how this goes.  I'm starting to feel downright agricultural.  This means that in addition to the stuff we got yesterday, we have in our front yard thyme, lavender, chives, sage, peppermint, spearmint, leeks, spring onions, and oregano.  And that's just the edible stuff!  I want to finish taking the camelias down and put up some trellises and either plant new camelias to train or maybe a completely different climbing plant and then plant a border of strawberries along the base.  That's pretty ambitious, though.  We'll see what happens.

Today we dug up the volunteer (read: weed) cedar tree, planted all of the plants we got yesterday, dug up the chives, put them into a hanging pot, and introduced the Larval Unit to pill bugs.  The particular pill bug that we intriduced her to was quite intrepid and declined to roll up into a ball no matter how vigorously he was poked and prodded by spitty baby fingers.  Clearly we just need to keep trying.
 

That'd be like $100 ticket if it got caught by the seatbelt patrols...
( Secured load? )

Top 5 Things That I Discovered I'd Left in the Highlander This Morning inncluded:
5.  My Hat
4.  My Jacket
3.  My Lipstick
2.  My Nail Clippers
1.  A Tank Full of Gas

Okay, that last bit was a bit of an exaggeration.  What actually happened was that I was planning to fill the MG up with gas on the way home from work yesterday, but HRH said he needed me to get the Green Ninja and go pick the girl up from daycare, so I dropped the MG off with him and forgot about the gas.

I also (re)discovered that while a cute skirt lends itself well to summer weather enjoyment, it doesn't necessarily lend itself to climbing into an out of a small convertible, nor does it necessarily lend itself to staying in your lap while you're driving.  So to anyone that I may have inadvertently flashed on 202 this morning... you're welcome?