Sunday, October 22, 2006

The Grass is Greener

I hang out with a 3 1/2 year old boy who is indignant that I don't have my own soccer ball, knows that "zero means nothing on the number line," and beats my husband at Mario Cart. Tonight we were out to dinner at BJ's. His new thing is jamming his little thumb up to signify that something is good. He was flirting with the waitress and hamming it up for all the guys at the table, men he knows from Monday Night Football and UFC fight parties because they are friends with his dad and my husband. He was dutifully eating the Kraft Macaroni and Cheese he had ordered when I offered him a bite of my Field of Greens salad. Which just goes to show you how little I know about young children, because it's a fairly grown-up salad, leaf lettuces, mandarin oranges, roasted red peppers, red onions, walnuts, and feta cheese. He said yes, though, so I loaded up a clean fork with some lettuce and he took a big bite. A look of utter revulsion came across his face, like he had discovered that the substance in his mouth was dog food laced with rodent poison marinated heavily in lime juice. He looked around the table with his usually smiley eyes betraying how much he was suffering through each cycle of chew and swallow. His dad asked, "How is the salad?" Without hesitation, his fist shot up into the air above his high chair, thumb protruding upward. He even asked for a second bite later in the meal, and he had the same reaction the second time around.
I, on the other hand, came home and made a box of mac and cheese. . .

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Oh yeah. I have a blog.

Or rather, I used to have a blog. Back when I blogged. Now, I just have this bookmark entitled Level Eye taunting me from the bookmark bar, and I feel scorched by humiliation at the seventeen years that have elapsed since I last blogged. I've been waiting for something blog-worthy about which to write, and I realized tonight that my blog is not one of those, shall we say, important kinds of blogs. It is random, and disjointed. It doesn't hang together as a narrative unit, so much. So what does it really matter that all I have to blog about right now is randomness? Here's to my blog and my life, neither of which seem to be following any kind of predictable narrative thread at the moment.
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