The trouble didn’t start until around 10am, when J. decided he was absolutely starving and demanded potato chips.  I said, “Dude, you can’t have chips at 10 o’clock in the morning!  Gross!  I’ll make you a some fruit.”  As I was downstairs cutting up bananas and strawberries, I heard this horrible yelling coming from upstairs.  I barreled up the steps, and found J. screaming that A. had hit him, and he was mad.

“I’m sooo mad, Auntie.  You guys made me MAD!”

“Okay, dude, but can you be cool for a SECOND so that I can go get your food?”

“No! I’M MAD!  GET MY FOOD RIGHT NOW!”

“J.,” I replied, “First of all, sometimes we get mad, but that doesn’t mean we get to stop acting nicely.  Second, I’m not going to get you anything, EVER unless you say ‘please’ when you ask me.  Is that understood?”

Silence.  Total, blank, pitiless silence.

Two minutes later,

“Auntie, will you get me my fruit PLEASE.”

“Yep, J – just a second.”

I went and got the fruit plate, which J. then attempted to refuse to share with A. – resulting in crying, screaming, and kicking on A.’s behalf  and gloating on J.’s.  I got A. calmed down and gave him a strawberry.  OH JOY! I truly wish, with all of my eternal soul, that I could be as happy about ANYTHING as that baby is about getting a strawberry!

They shared okay after that.  J., however, didn’t want to eat any bananas or grapes (which was okay because A. was snarfing them up with alacrity), and demanded more strawberries.

“Buddy,” I sighed, “You have to eat what’s on the plate and THEN you can have more.”

“I DON’T WANT BANANAS!  GET ME STRAWBERRIES!”

“Kid, we had this conversation.  You’re about to get a time out.  You don’t ask for more food until you finish what you have, and you say ‘please’ when you ask.  Understood?”

Silence.  Black hole caliber, in-space-no-one-can-hear-you scream silence.

“Understood?!?”

The world’s smallest, most reluctant, tiniest little, “yes.”

VICTORY, right?

Wrong.

Ten minutes later, when I was changing the baby, J. snuck downstairs and got into the chips.  I caught him red handed.  I was displeased.  He got told.  I hid the chips. I am SUCH A N00B!

As to babies and corn: PARENTS, there is absolutely no reason a human baby should EVER eat corn.  It comes out totally undamaged and adds about 76% more grossness to the dirty diaper as a whole.  STOP THE CORN, PEOPLE.  This is a travesty.

Stay Tuned This Afternoon for: Nervous Breakdown At The Public Library…RCS Staff Writer Hospitalized After Going On Bibliophilic “NO CORN” Rampage.

Photo by Staff Sgt. Jim Araos

EIELSON AIR FORCE BASE, Alaska — Many know him by his portrayal of Lt. Dan Taylor in the film “Forrest Gump.” For this reason, Gary Sinise is most likely not known for being a musician who plays bass guitar in a band fittingly named after his famed character.

As part of a USO tour, the actor-musician performed with the Lt. Dan Band in the Thunderdome here on June 23 for service members and their families across interior Alaska. Travelling to Alaska is a unique experience, Sinise said, and it is certainly unique for those stationed throughout the state.

“I’ve been looking forward to coming back, especially because Alaska is removed from the lower 48. Those who are serving up here can tend to miss out on some things,” Sinise said. “Coming to Alaska to visit the troops and support our service members up here is something I feel very good about.”

Sinise began volunteering for USO tours after 9/11 and played his first overseas tour in 2003 in Iraq. He said several factors play into his motivation for performing for troops, including an extensive history of family veterans. But his first step was devoting himself to veterans groups as early as the 1980s.

“I remember how I felt when I got involved with various Vietnam veterans groups back in the 80s, and I just felt a lot of compassion for them and what had happened to them,” he explained. “I felt compelled to try and help. I feel for our military and I want to help those who have served.”

One reason Sinise is devoted to touring is due to having the ability to meet and get to know military members, however brief an encounter might be. To him, knowing the mission and being able to relay that message back to the public is his way of supporting service members.

“I’ve met extraordinary people in the military,” Sinise said. “So if I can see what you all do and go out and talk about it to try and help people understand why we should be very grateful and feel very proud of the dedicated people we have serving our country, then that’s the way I can give back.”

Those in attendance were able to witness the passion Sinise has for service members. Staff Sgt. Jesse Bradley, 354th Fighter Wing legal office military justice paralegal, said that it was encouraging for both him and his wife to know how patriotic Sinise is.

“It’s good to know that there are people out there who will put on the hat and take up the mantle to tell our story,” Bradley said. “It’s just nice knowing that he has the group together and their sole purpose is to come around and show all of us that they care.”

This sentiment echoes how Sinise wants people to feel by the time they leave a concert. If someone leaves the concert feeling valued and better than when they got there, then his mission is accomplished, he said.

Sinise said the Lt. Dan Band does not intend on slowing down with performances. As long as there are those in uniform serving the country, he will keep playing.

“It’s something I plan to do, and I want to make sure that people know that they are appreciated – that’s the main goal,” said Sinise. “If I can show up and just say thanks and let people know that it’s important to me that they feel appreciated for defending our country and make sure they feel that they’re not forgotten for what they’re doing for our country, that’s the most important part to me”

Source: USO, Story by Airman 1st Class Zachary Perras and Photo by Staff Sgt. Jim Araos

New America: The math genius who’s poor shouldn’t go to college, but should spend his/her life shining the shoes of people like Romney’s sons (or Mitt and Marie Antoinette themselves) who are born with trust funds and inheritances. Because, let’s be honest, who among us couldn’t “afford college” without financial help from programs or services like student loans, scholarships, and grants? Not all of us can borrow money for college from our parents.

And what a great way to enslave entire generations into a minimum wage existence — to the great advantage of corporations and the one percent.

1) Corporate profit margins just hit an all-time high. Companies are making more per dollar of sales than they ever have before. (And some people are still saying that companies are suffering from “too much regulation” and “too many taxes.” Maybe little companies are, but big ones certainly aren’t)

2) Fewer Americans are working than at any time in the past three decades. One reason corporations are so profitable is that they don’t employ as many Americans as they used to.

3) Wages as a percent of the economy are at an all-time low. This is both cause and effect. One reason companies are so profitable is that they’re paying employees less than they ever have as a share of GDP. And that, in turn, is one reason the economy is so weak: Those “wages” are other companies’ revenue.

Blodget bottomlines it for us in a series of related charts: “Companies need to start sharing more of their revenue with their employees. Wages as a percent of the economy simply have to go up. Yes, this means corporate profit margins will drop. But they can drop a long, long way and still be “above average.” And this is our country we’re talking about. If corporations really are people, it’s time for them to start acting like people–and sharing their wealth.” 

Not to mention all the unions that have been busted up by Republicans for the past 30-40 years. What Blodget says makes sense, of course, yet Tea Street, USA has been conditioned to think sharing downward isn’t fair, it’s Socialism (or one of those -isms), and Rush Limbaugh and Jesus wouldn’t approve. Psychologically it has something to do with supposedly “punishing” the successful (the wealthy will say) plus gay marriage and race wars… it’s all way too murky and complex to get into here.

It is safe to say that the only “sharing” that the GOP and the one percent are interested in is bottom-up sharing: legislating more tax cuts to profitable corporations and the wealthiest citizens and paying for those tax cuts (and decreased government revenue) with austerity — by cutting programs and services that the rest of us use. Just look at the Ryan plan or the Romney budget.

You really don’t think that the Koch Brothers, Foster Friess, Sheldon Adelson and all the other rich guys who were in Park City, Utah with Mitt last weekend are donating hundreds of millions of dollars to Romney Super PACs, just so they can turn around and ‘share’ profits with their workers, do you? Their political donations are a business investment which they hope to recoup, with interest. They want even more, not less.

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO THE EP CHEMICALS ON BANDCAMP BY BANG OK BANG

CLICK HERE TO FOLLOW THEM ON FACEBOOK

There was much talk of a prom. It was listed in ‘What, Where, When?’ for Thursday night and rumours of limos and formal wear abounded. I found myself being dressed by the kind ladies of The Nile Room and for a smoothie they made me look like shit. It was quite funny really, I’m standing next to this firedancer I know who looks like an anorexic Courtney Love and she’s droning on about how many people she knows, she’s hangin’ with The Mutator and going to all the coolest parties blah blah. How silly, I nearly said. There are so many cool parties that theme camps have taken to making rubber stamps and covering my body with them so I might have a gnats ass of remembering where I’m going that night.

Courtney’s being decked out in a stunning strapless black velvet number that fans out into a black and white fishtail. She looks gorgeous. I am being wrapped in a torn pink wool snood and sewn together with silver lurex.

It does nothing for me and pink is not my colour.

Glancing away from my reflection in dismay, I see a group of children driving a wagon train of school desks trundle by and hitched a lift home to change.

I should stop here and explain that, as an English person, I’ve been deprived of proms and reunions. I mean to say, what’s with that? We’re a country laden with pomp and circumstance and we cling to the remains of our monarchy like a sinking ship, so I was eager for a prom.

I grabbed Bad Doggie and headed off to prom dress headquarters at The Lost Penguin to rectify things. Sitting in air-conditioned bliss I gorged myself on chocolate covered cherries and champagne and admired my corsage. Bad Doggie slithered into something slinky while I was foisted off with a pink lace bolero which I stuffed into my bike basket, where I think it still remains.

During the evening I saw many humans wandering about in tuxedos and gowns and I asked the single ones if they had a date. We set off that night, a tight knit group drenched in ‘day glo’ so we wouldn’t lose each other.

The penguins had said to go to Area 47 (which wasn’t listed) next to Space Virgins on the Esplanade. Stopping only for a fiery ass shot administered with a blow torch and hose attachment ( to be explained in Part 2 ) we were there in a flash.

Space Virgins was a huge Grecian temple all lit up, music pumping, people in prom wear pumping, so we danced. At some point I noticed that Flight To Mars was right next door and squeaking with excitement, I rounded up the gang. They were somewhat reluctant due to the extremely long line to get in, so I babbled on about past experiences ( “it’s a fun house, it’s a club, there’s a really tight vagina you crawl through with a talking clit” ) until they acquiesced.

It was, however, an eventful queue. Starting with the guy who wanted to leave the line. We refused to let him, did everything in our power to make him stay, culminating  with our ‘Cult Of Eric’ cheerleading routine which ends with the Eric salute – a forward stomp of the right foot while shielding your face from view and burping. His friend unimpressed yanked him out of line anyway and we fell to our knees as one, howling and clutching at his ankles. Next, a young girl who’d been mentally undressing Brynn and I with an addled look in her eye, lunged at us and there we were in a three way suck-face. She pulled back and whimpered, “Why?” “Because you can, because it’s okay, because it’s allowed!” She beamed at me and staggered off, happy at being granted permission to hump women’s legs like a rabid bunny.

Three priests came by in bouncy shoes offering communion wafers and wine on silver trays and then…we were there, the front of the line. I went in first, moving cautiously through a thick forest of dangly things and then I had to make a choice. I went left into a long room where everything looked normal and then got smaller and smaller. I wriggled through the tiny exit, a trap door came down and immediately I’d lost my peeps!! I couldn’t backtrack and I found myself in a dead-end place. Looking like a claustrophobic mime, I patted the walls and flew through a panel into a drum which revolved and spat me out into a hanging cloth maze. “HELP!” I barked, to no avail. Bad Doggies long gone. I hope the others had the sense to stick together because I am beyond lost.

I made my way through a pitch black material labyrinth, rubbing against the bodies of other lost souls and started to giggle. Everyone I encountered was either looking for their friends,or the way out. Eventually I leaned against a wall and I was back on the street. What a shock! I tried to go back through, but of course I couldn’t. I rushed to the front of the line, to the guy blocking my way. “I’ve lost my peeps and it won’t let me back in and you’ve got to let me in!” It came gushing out as one word and he laughed at me. “Yeah, yeah – that’s what they all say.” Most unhelpful, I tried again. “No, you don’t understand. My friends, they’re in there and I’m out here, that’s a very long line, pretty please let me in?”

He tells me that a couple lost each other for four hours yesterday and to get back in line. I pouted and began to shuffle away when I saw a small, cloud shaped window covered in netting, previously unnoticed. Beyond the netting, a closet-sized room stuffed full of coloured balls like a Mickey D’s playroom.

The first thing I saw was a girl curled into a ball quietly crying, then panic stricken people shouting “you’re on my foot!’ or “my legs gone to sleep, fuck!” On closer inspection I realized that the only way out was to dive down INTO the balls and find the mouth of a tunnel that others were trying to come through the wrong way. Oh my God! Those poor people, all of them cast adrift, on different drugs and no one can relate.Everyone’s lost the pals they came with and some have just given up. Who knows how long they’ve been there and why doesn’t someone just kick through the netting? I know I would.

It is then that I happen to look up and see that under the sign ‘Flight to Mars’ there is another that reads ‘Area 47 Welcome to The Prom’. It dawns on me as I listen to the wailing voices calling out to each other from inside, that there is no prom. It’s all a diabolical hoax. A fun house that purposely separates you from your friends, it’s awful but I love it!!

Armed with this knowledge, I plunged back into the fray. Through a revolving door that sends me one way and the next person another way. cackling wildly I scaled the camo netting in my platform wedgies without killing myself and finally saw my friends amidst a clump of folks edging towards the dreaded balls. “Don’t move!” I bellowed “I’m coming to get you” and ran smack into some bloke who took my arm and started trying to guide me. I saw his game and shook him off. Now there was only a fireman’s pole between us and with an exultant whoop I slid down and we were reunited!

Once outside we lingered awhile to watch peoples reactions as they exited. Some ran up to the queue shouting “don’t do it, they’re evil bastards!” Others, like myself, came out shrieking with laughter.

We strolled off arm in arm toward Thunderdome to watch people on bungees beat the shit out of each other and I vowed to find those naughty penguins tomorrow and spank their flightless bottoms!

Anyway, so. Immediately after transfer, I took the elevator down a floor to the acupuncture office and had a “post transfer” treatment. Then, I drove to my regular acupuncturist and had yet another treatment. This was all because I’d seen some research saying that acupuncture immediately after transfer can seriously boost odds.

So, my first symptoms, which I really just chalked up to the transfer, were back cramps for 4 days. Then they abated, and then they came back again. About 6 days after transfer, I did a home pregnancy test, fully expecting it to be negative…and it was… but it was our anniversary, and I wanted a little bit of psychological permission to have a glass of wine. So I did. Of course, the negative test was also a way to ensure the HCG (from the IVF trigger shot the week before) was out of my system.

So, then I went away for a few days, and just felt vaguely PMSy… mild cramps, and a little bit tired. When I got home, I did another pregnancy test, this time 11 days after transfer, and it was a faint positive. OK. That was new.

I continued having back cramps, and then chills started. I call them “cold flashes.” I still have them now, 3 weeks after transfer.

My official pregnancy blood test was 4 days later, and no surprise, it was positive. I had a BetaHCG of 412, which was a nice, solid, healthy number.  Three days later, my HCG was 1680. Another good number. My nurse was happy enough that she said we didn’t need anymore tests for the next two weeks, when we’d do the first ultrasound.

So now I’m just waiting for that.

In the meantime, my other half and I are purposely moving very slowly, largely out of the knowledge that there’s about a 30 percent chance this will end in miscarriage. Trying to be cautiously optimistic.

It’s weird that I have very few symptoms otherwise – no nausea whatsoever. My appetite’s been a little bit less than usual, I suppose.

Because my other half and I have had some fertility issues in the past, we aren’t telling most people (who we know, anyway) that I’m pregnant. I was pregnant once before, but that ended early in a miscarriage. ANYWAY.  So we’ve been through all sorts of fertility treatments, and it’s been a few years.

We’re also Wiccan, and I don’t feel like explaining all of that right now, but ok, eventually. The name of this site is BastCoyote, because they’re two deities I’ve been working with a lot lately. Bast is an Egyptian fertility goddess, and Coyote is… well, he defies definition, but he’s generally considered a trickster. I don’t generally “believe” in external deities, like praying to a big God in the sky who’s going to fix things for us. For me, prayer is all about calming myself and rewiring my brain, and tapping into archetypes I want to emulate. So, Bast and Coyote… they’re iconoclasts. More on them soon.

My husband and I just finished another cycle of in-vitro fertilization (IVF), and my pregnancy test, for the first time ever, was positive. Still wrapping my head around that. So that was about a week ago. Basically, this all calculates to mean I’m currently 5 weeks and 3 days pregnant, with a due date of January 20th, 2013.

Right now, my symptoms are minimal. Just occasional mild cramps and chills, and that’s it.

The part that’s weird is that I can’t “enjoy” this pregnancy yet. With all of the struggles to get here, I became accustomed to just not being able to be pregnant, to always getting negative results. I was beginning to accept that it just wasn’t going to happen without some serious financial investment that we couldn’t afford, in order to do Donor Eggs. Because I’ve over 35, but with nothing else wrong with me, the fertility doctor said that our infertility problems were all due to my age. Ok, I hear you, but that’s a little bit lazy… especially since all of my tests came back normal. But nevermind. Anyway.  The point is, I’m now pregnant, and somewhat terrified… because they always told us, over and over, that our chances of having a live baby were very low. So getting pregnant is just one step of many.

I’m going to be paranoid for MONTHS.

I’ve just gone shopping online for more fertility items. It keeps me from being too nervous. More incense materials and candles.

Rowan and I in Thunderdome

Col and I (with my Blue Lagoon)

Rowan wanted to watch a football game (spot the least football inclined person around), so we took him to Thunderdome for dessert and a beer while we hung out and watched the game.

We took Rowan to get his first pair of glasses

(March 25th) We’d booked in for 5pm, but Rowan and I went in a little earlier – because it normally takes me FOREVER to find glasses.  As soon as we walked in, our sales advisor approached us, and helped us try on glasses, give opinions on glasses, we didn’t have to wait long for our sight tests and before long, we were leaving having ordered five pairs of glasses between us!  Our sales advisor, Roseanne, I think she was called, was ACE!

Maggie Mays

(March 26th) Wednesday’s adventure, brought me back to my old nemesis-haunt, Queens University.  I had a somewhat chequered relationship with my University experience, however, one part of it was always worth the hassle and that was my friendship with my good friend Karen.  We had a delicious lunch in the ‘new’ Maggie Mays, the food was delicious, the ambiance (aside from the seriously loud blender) is good and it’s cheap!

Rowan, Col and I

(March 27th)  Rowan invited us oldies to tag along with him and his friends on a night out at Cobbles, Thursday night Karaoke.  I was a bit reticent, I didn’t want to cramp his style, (and, lemme tell ye, he’s got plenty of it!) but we decided what the hell, and off we went!

Rowan and I

Rowan, Stephen and Chan

As a venue, Cobbles was pretty good.  The night started off pretty empty, but it filled up as the night went on.  Strawberry daquiris are 3 for £12 and the karaoke isn’t bad, the DJ has all of the right artists, but, for me, all of the wrong songs, which was disappointing cause I normally love singing at those things!

Rowan and I

(March 28th) Rowan, Col, my sister’s other half James, Rowans friends Chan and Marty and I decided to go bowling in the Sheepbridge, just outside of Newry.  Col and I hadn’t been bowling in at least a year, maybe two even.  I tend to forget how much I enjoy it – in spite of my bowling fatigue.  My arms get tired pretty quickly.

As far as bowling goes, the Sheepbridge is all Newry has to offer, so I don’t have much to compare it to.  Glass bottled drinks make me feel like I’m being robbed when all I want is a glass of fizzy juice!

Col and I

As you can see, we are having lots of fun being home!

This was one of the two embryos that was transferred on May 3. I think this is the one that stuck around.

Check out the bands that played at The Thunderdome here last night by clicking on their names.

PENICILLIN BABY (Nashville, TN)

TENNESSEE SCUM (Murfreesboro, TN)

MIDWEST TRASH VORTEX (Chicago, IL)

SCAMMERS (Kansas City, MO)

ARCH DRUID (Nashville, TN)

Did you know,

The Corrections Corporation of America and G4S (formerly Wackenhut), two prison privatizers, sell inmate labor at subminimum wages to Fortune 500 corporations like Chevron, Bank of America, AT&T and IBM.

These companies can, in most states, lease factories in prisons or prisoners to work on the outside.  All told, nearly a million prisoners are now making office furniture, working in call centers, fabricating body armor, taking hotel reservations, working in slaughterhouses or manufacturing textiles, shoes and clothing, while getting paid somewhere between 93 cents and $4.73 per day.

First, it’s interesting that it’s Fortune 500 companies leasing this prison labor at ‘subprime wages’ because it was recently reported (I posted about it below) that in 2011, Fortune 500 CEOs made 380 times more than the average worker. 380 times more!

And secondly, guess who isn’t making office furniture, working in call centers, fabricating body armor, taking hotel reservations, working in slaughterhouses or manufacturing textiles, shoes and clothing? All the Americans who are unemployed. All the high-school and college kids who can’t find a job. Everyone who doesn’t have a job won’t be getting any of these jobs, because Fortune 500 companies want to pay subminimum wages to prisoners. And naturally these corporations then compete with OTHER companies and small businesses with their ‘slight’ subminimum wage advantage. The article describes what happened the first time capitalists tried using prison labor exclusively — this is a small excerpt:

[...] In the North, the prison abolition movement went viral, embracing not only workers’ organizations, sympathetic rural insurgents and prisoners, but also widening circles of middle-class reformers.  The newly created American Federation of Labor denounced the system as “contract slavery.”  It also demanded the banning of any imports from abroad made with convict labor and the exclusion from the open market of goods produced domestically by prisoners, whether in state-run or private workshops.  In Chicago, the construction unions refused to work with materials made by prisoners.

By the latter part of the century, in state after state penal servitude was on its way to extinction.  New York, where the “industry” was born and was largest, killed it by the late 1880s….

Here’s the thing — private prisons, like any corporation, are in business to make money. More prisoners, more money. And as this article explains, private prisons make money in two ways: from the state for warehousing the prisoner, but they’re also making profits by ‘leasing’ the prisoner to corporations who want to pay dirt cheap wages right here on U.S. soil. And as this article points out, America has the largest captive population on Earth to draw from:

[...] On the supply side, the U.S. holds captive 25 percent of all the prisoners on the planet: 2.3 million people.  It has the highest incarceration rate in the world as well, a figure that began skyrocketing in 1980 as Ronald Reagan became president.  As for the demand for labor, since the 1970s American industrial corporations have found it increasingly unprofitable to invest in domestic production.  Instead, they have sought out the hundreds of millions of people abroad who are willing to, or can be pressed into, working for far less than American workers.

As a consequence, those back home — disproportionately African-American workers — who found themselves living in economic exile, scrabbling to get by,  began showing up in similarly disproportionate numbers in the country’s rapidly expanding prison archipelago. It didn’t take long for corporate America to come to view this as another potential foreign country, full of cheap and subservient labor — and better yet, close by.

What began in the 1970s as an end run around the laws prohibiting convict leasing by private interests has now become an industrial sector in its own right, employing more people than any Fortune 500 corporation and operating in 37 states.  And here’s the ultimate irony: Our ancestors found convict labor obnoxious in part because it seemed to prefigure a new and more universal form of enslavement.  Could its rebirth foreshadow a future ever more unnervingly like those past nightmares?

Read: 21st century chain gangs

This country is going straight to Hell. There’s just no other way to say it. How many people’s lives might have been different if these Fortune 500 companies decided their overpaid CEOs really didn’t earn or deserve 380 times more than average workers, and instead invested some of that money into actually creating jobs for this country? Real jobs, with a living wage. Maybe our economy would be better. Maybe fewer people would wind up in prison. What if all the work that prisoners are doing right now for subminimum wages would have been available to them as a job to apply for, that they could have hoped to be hired for? Isn’t there a chance that their lives could have been different and the lives of all the people around them and, ultimately, all of our futures because of that?

Prisons shouldn’t be privatized, they shouldn’t be run for profit. They should be government run. Think about what a bad idea this is: setting up corporate prisons for profit (the more prisoners, the better!), then allowing those corporations to sell the labor of their prisoners to other corporations to make a bigger profit.

And you think I’m joking about the corporate-sponsored work camps we’ll all be living in some day, circled around blazing garbage barrels for warmth, eating our daily ration of Soylent Green.

Related: 

• Jailed for $280: The Return of Debtors’ Prisons
• Oklahoma family reunions, meth, the Koch Brothers, and GOP politics
• In 7 years, private prisons increased their lobbying by 165% and increased their populations by 37%
• Competing with prison labor • Companies, politicians scrutinizing Federal Prison Industries (see image below)

I’m struggling to get through this post while Pringles whines and frets and crawls around my feet.

Most of what I live with day to day is a delight and a privilege. She has learned to hold her arms straight up when asked “How big is Pringles?” to indicate SO BIG. Hand clapping started last week. Viva gets right in her face and shrieks, “PRINGLES! LITTLE, LITTLE PRINGLES! LITTLE LITTLE PRINGLES!” and sounds quite deranged. But the baby loves it. She loves everything her big sister does, except when Viva squishes her.

Pringles is amazing at making me feel special. Her face lights up when she sees me. She reaches for me and says “Mama.” Her smiles were made just for me.

Because she can say “Mama,” she calls for me all day and sometimes all night.

I started writing this morning, and now it is dark outside. Viva is asleep in the family bed with Odie. Little Pringles learned how to make a clucking noise with her tongue and the roof of her mouth and is therefore staying awake to practice it.

My back aches from carrying her around most of the day. My joints still pain me from my pregnancy. I have a condition where my joints stay loose and flexible (and painful) as long as I am breastfeeding. I have trouble getting comfortable to sleep and it takes me close to ten minutes to drag my creaking body out of bed in the morning. Four Motrin with my morning coffee are sometimes the only thing that gets me moving.

Today, Viva’s preschool teacher looked grave when I picked her up. She asked Viva if she wanted to tell me what happened.

“Barbara scratched me! Like this!” she demonstrated a raking motion across her face. Miss Ginny pursed her lips and asked Viva, “Is that the truth, honey?” Viva nodded emphatically that it was. The little liar. It turns out, her BFF had a toy Viva wanted, so she took it. When BFF protested, she got a scratch across the face. Viva even drew a little blood. I felt my stomach drop to my knees and my cheeks flush. I’d only ever been on the other side of this parent-teacher conversation, shaking my head with disgust at the antics of Monsieur Le Petite. It seems I have a Mademoiselle La Petite on my hands. I did that thing we parents do, where I responded to the teacher in the “family we.”

“We’ve been having trouble sharing lately. Sharing toys, sharing Mommy, sharing time,” I explain. I’m sure she’s just acting out. And, oh yeah. She’s THREE (in three weeks). Three year-olds are uncivilized. Even though my darling Viva talks like a five year-old, her emotional capacity is still quite on par with her age. I hope her BFF’s parents were cool about it and still want to have playdates. Odie is practically turning himself inside out with anxiety, as he’s wont to do. Poor guy only got 4 hours sleep last night after grading 180 midterms. That is absolutely the worst part of the job. Tedious, time-consuming, and thankless.

I just wanted to check in with you all and let you know what’s going on. We enjoyed Odie’s spring break immensely, taking our second day at Disneyland on Tuesday. We chose to spend our Easter with good friends instead of family this year because they were having lots of little kids and an Easter egg hunt. We dyed eggs the Saturday before and I made sure not to include for hiding the egg on which I’d written naughty love notes to Odie in crayon before dipping them in dye. I’m an Existential Theist and Odie is a contrarian (he doesn’t know what he believes, but what do you believe? Yeah, he thinks that’s wrong), so Easter Sunday isn’t a big deal to us. We’re charging forward trying to make our own family traditions, which is one of the best parts of being a parent so far.

I started this blog two years ago when Viva was the age Pringles is now. It isn’t amazing how time flies. It’s always done that. It is amazing how much I love them. And how hard it is to get any writing done with them around.

Remember, if you want to hear from me more often, I’m on Twitter @MrsOdie2. Twitter is less of a commitment, so I manage to “tweet” something most days. I’m having trouble concentrating with Pringles crawling around, refusing to sleep, babbling and trying to eat everything she finds on the floor. Stay tuned for some articles I’m working on about my incredibly funny and wise observations on some current parenting topics and some bitchy criticism of some other bloggers.

Anyway, Kerrie Castle is making an awesome video of people from all around the world singing Spencer Bell’s “Thunderdome.” In an effort to not mess up any of the submission guidelines here is exactly what Bill Bell posted on the Spencer Bell Legacy website.Thunderdome SBL Project

What:  The Thunderdome SBL Project will become a video collaboration of people from around the globe lip syncing to the song Thunderdome (The Stevedores Tamuawok version).

Who:  Anyone can participate in this project and all that is required is your imagination, a video camera, the song Thunderdome, and you.  If you do not have a copy of the song here is a link to the download from Itunes:  http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/tamuawok./id254546487  You can lip sync the entire song, or just part of it, it is totally up to you.    We would love, love, love to see your local landscape somehow presented in your video in order to show the beauty across the globe.

When:  Your video would need to be completed and uploaded no later than midnight EST of April 25, 2012 in order to allow enough time for the editing process. 

Where:  You can send your videos along with your first name and city, country to the e-mail address:

thunderdomesblproject@yahoo.com

We will accept videos in any format, but we prefer .mpeg or quicktime files for easier formatting.  You can also upload your video to YouTube and notify us at the thunderdome e-mail of the link to your video.  But you must notify us, because otherwise we will not know the location of your video unless we have the link.

Why:  We feel that this would be a way for many awesome people around the globe to unite and collaborate on a wonderful project.  We plan on uploading the video to YouTube to share with everyone and possibly showing it at SBL Madison.

Any questions?:  Please feel free to e-mail thunderdomesblproject@yahoo.com or tweet Kerrie (Kiffy) @kiffyann on Twitter if you you have any further questions about this project.  Much gratitude to you all! 

I am very excited about this!!!! I think we are going to do a fun video of my family singing with the Empire State building in the background or another fun New York City landmark! And if I find the video of Princess A dancing to “Thunderdome” I will submit that as well!

Stay Glamorous,

Shannon

This is Thunderdome, people. You know the rules. When two tribes go to war and all that. Happy monday everyone. Dont worry, the laptop merely completed the task and the updates. Well done, laptop, well done.

For one thing, the “shoot first, avoid arrest” bill that has allowed Trayvon Martin’s killer to avoid charges was drafted by ALEC.  ALEC has also provided multiple state legislatures with voter ID bills intended to suppress the votes of minorities, the poor, and the elderly.  It should be a surprise to no one that many members of ALEC are the corporations that are bring us the privatized prison-industrial complex, and who are also bringing us privatized, for-profit schools that are bringing profits to its members at the expense of actual education.

We are looking at a very, very bleak future for the vast majority of our citizens if ALEC continues to write our state’s laws unchecked.

Thunderdome just had an overhaul. The site is sexy and easy to navigate, and there are lots of new projects – wander around:

http://thunderdomemag.com/index.php

keep peeking around for news – i’m about to become a co-editor. so far that job has entailed digging up pretty photos from my hard drive, but i have a feeling it’s going to get a BIT more intense than that. for now, here are the updated links for my stories in the Thunderdome:

“Teetotaler” http://thunderdomemag.com/component/k2/item/44-teetotaler

“Fever” http://thunderdomemag.com/component/k2/item/25-fever

“Tin Man”  http://thunderdomemag.com/collections/the-collective-speaks/writers-in-residence-warmed-and-bound/item/100-tin-man

Congrats, Mike, on a site well done!

CLICK HERE TO GO TO THEIR WEBSITE AND LISTEN TO THEIR NEW DEMO

CLICK HERE TO GO TO THEIR FACEBOOK PAGE

]]> http://carlsononthemap.wordpress.com/2012/03/03/90/ Sat, 03 Mar 2012 21:42:45 +0000 Julie http://carlsononthemap.wordpress.com/2012/03/03/90/

THE LINK:  http://www.amazon.com/Search-City-Los-Angeles-Words/dp/1466338172/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1330368769&sr=1-1

seriously, it’s $2.99 and this is what you get:

Table of Contents

Ryan Wilson – “American Trash”

 Stuart Gibbel – “Break on Through”

 Craig Clevenger – “Obsolescence”

 Nik Korpon – “South of Thirteen”

 Dennis Cruz – “Smile Now, Cry Later”

 Pela Via – “Bathhouse”

 Stephen Conley – “Don’t Feed the Animals”

 Grigori Black – “This Was Heaven”

 Doc O’Donnell – “Your Personal Apocalypse”

 Nikki Guerlain – “Sick Ticket”

 Patrick Verhagen – “Swim”

 Craig Wallwork – “El Bordello Alexandra”

 Nicholas Merlin Karpuk – “Ahm’s Bay”

 Nik Houser – “Subtitles for a Silent Film”

 H.R. Tardiff – “Walls in the Sand”

 Richard Thomas – “The Jenny Store”

Bob Pastorella – “Alexandra”

 Simon West-Bulford – “Project Asmodeus”

 Jay Slayton-Joslin – “The Fantasy of California vs. The Reality of London”

 Amanda Gowin – “Gilded Bones”

Chris Deal – “Padre Nuestro”

 Boden Steiner – “Here”

 Gordon Highland – “Fry Girl”

 edward j rathke – “All the Dreams You Dreamt Retold”

 Michael Paul Gonzalez – “Tidal”

 Victor Bengtsson – “Venice, Forever”