Oh, the internets.

I just wandered, blog-led, to the BEST WEBSITE EVER. Seriously. It'll make you cry.*

I think this would be the time to mention that Cook knows somebody who claims Barack Obama hit on her at a party ten years ago. So he may have slightly uneven moral fiber! And somebody told me today that the fact that he's a smoker is really depressing for her. However, pictures of the man holding babies is really all I need to be reassured that he must be a fantastic guy. And as for McCain? Pah. Also, pah.

* For any number of reasons, depending on your age, gender, political affiliation, etc.

The price of pinkeye

• Lost wages (intern wages, but still): $84
• Cost of medical personnel weighing the kid, poking her in the eye, and saying "yup, that's pinkeye"*: $25
• Cost of antibiotic eyedrops (the daycare says she can't come back until she's ooze-free AND has been on antibiotic eyedrops for 24 hours): $16

Total cost of mild case of pinkeye that would probably clear up on its own without medical attention: $125

Plus the three hours of time we spent at and going to and from the appointment and the pharmacy. But at least we can dump her back at daycare tomorrow! And her eye does look much better already.

And today was Cook's last day at Crappy Old Job (which is why I won the lottery and stayed home with the full-of-beans "sick" kid). Tomorrow, a brand new day at Spiffy New Job!


*That's a paraphrase; you needn't be concerned about the caliber of our healthcare.

whoa nelly

We're pretty busy. Not as bad as last fall - I have time for blogging, but not time for thinking about semi-interesting things to blog about. Hence, no blogging. However, Dutch appears to have conjunctivitis, so I'm likely to be home (and at the doctor's office) with her tomorrow, so perhaps I'll try to come up with some sort of clever blog topic. Or I'll sleep in. Whatever.

So, the election's coming up, eh? Voted yet, those of you with the option? Packed your stand-in-line-all-day survival kit, those of you without the early voting option?

Not much going on around here, except lots of homework and some fall-themed activities. We scored some homemade pumpkin doughnuts last night, courtesy of Emma Goldman, and today I'm taking Dutch to "Spooky Saturday" at Portland State. We're going to do "kiddie yoga"* and a candy hunt. Also, the leaves are turning kind of yellowy and orangish. It's cold. I was serious about the not-much-going on.


*Were you not clear that I live in a non-real part of the country?

My Middle Name is Hussein

Okay, I know it's totally ridiculous, but if you want to join a list of people who have signed up to (unofficially, obviously) change their middle names to Hussein, please go to this website to join those of us who have already become temporarily handsome.

identity confusion

Dutch is going to be Pippi Longstocking for Halloween. Or a princess. Or a hammerhead shark. She can't decide. She's all in a kerfuffle (thanks, Mama Big Cook!) about all the festivities that fall is ushering in - my birthday, Halloween, her birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas... It's going to be a hectic two months. Last year, by the time January rolled around, Dutch was convinced that she was going to get a party and/or presents every two weeks.

That's all. We're pretty busy these days, and I've got to go make a Halloween costume of some kind.

Voting is Complete

My voting, that is. And that of some other people. The rest of you are a little behind. Dutch, feeling left out as Cook and I filled out our ballots (we're more rested now, and feel competent to make reasonable decisions, sort of), made her own ballot, which consisted of a crumpled piece of scratch paper decorated with rows of filled circles. "We all voted for Barack Obama!" she announced happily.*

And hey, news! Cook got himself a new job! Okay, another temporary job with no benefits, but it's WAY better than his current temporary no-benefit job on every front - more money, more interesting projects, more prestige (really!), shorter commute, etc. In Portland, even temporary no-benefit jobs are in short supply, and this one's pretty desirable as far as such things go. For our next step, we're hoping he'll get a bad permanent job. Personally, I am planning to stay in school for as long as it takes until the market clamors for inexperienced planners.


* A coworker of mine knows a 4-year-old who is such a passionate Obama fan that she fundraises for him with a lemonade stand, and reached a point in the primary season where she had to go stay with her grandmother for a week because she couldn't bear to stay with her Clinton-supporting mom. Dutch is not so committed.

Jon Stewart TOTALLY reads my blog.

Proof.

Sun Food

I meant to post this link last week. I love Michael Pollan.* If you haven't read The Omnivore's Dilemma yet, you ought to!

*Yes, as much as Bob Herbert.

Home

Phew. We're home, after a whirlwind trip to Vermont to see Antarctic Uncle and Green Thumb Girl get married. We were gone for just about 60 hours, and according to my rough calculations, this is how that time broke down:

• 34 in transit (bus, train, plane, taxi, and car, visiting the cities of Chicago, Las Vegas, Manchester, and Montpelier)
• 11 sleeping (more for Dutch, who got a few desperately-needed ad hoc naps here and there)
• 8 at the wedding

I guess we must have spent the remaining 7 hours showering, brushing teeth, eating some meals, using the bathroom, trying to convince Dutch to go to sleep, and lying awake wishing for sleep ourselves. I can't remember. I do know that there was scarcely a moment of down time. (Flying across country with a 3-year-old and a pile of homework reading does NOT count as down time.) By Saturday afternoon I was exhausted, and by Sunday afternoon I was in an altered state. By the time we got home, Cook and I were in that hideous stage of fatigue where you can't finish a sentence, you trip over things, you can't remember why you're in the room you're in, and you mistakenly brush your teeth with your wife's toothbrush, an act which seems to your sleep-deprived wife like malicious cruelty and brings her to the verge of tears. Dutch, having napped through the entire landing, de-planing*, and baggage-claiming, was actually relatively peppy at that point. (She had some seriously bratty moments over the weekend, but generally behaved herself extremely well under the circumstances. During layovers, we drilled her to do jumping jacks and high kicks and sprints in the gate areas.)

Our ballots arrived! We were so excited we actually considered filling them out on the spot, and then wisely decided we couldn't be trusted to make responsible decisions. I might have woken in the morning to find I'd voted for the Libertarians or for some evil ballot measure that would leave me sick at heart.

This kind of experience highlights something that I consider to be one of the best and worst aspects of parenting. When you feel truly awful and sorry for yourself, you still have to behave responsibly and take care of your kid. Sometimes this feels downright heroic, like when you're carrying your sleeping child through the airport at the end of an 18-hour day, staggering with exhaustion, juggling luggage, and hurrying to catch the train. It certainly adds an element of extra stress to already-stressful situations, though.

We're glad that we went, though. It was fun to meet Green Thumb Aunt's family, and it was wonderful to see Antarctic Uncle and Green Thumb Aunt both looking so gorgeous and happy. Also, Dutch got to be a flower girl, a job she took extremely seriously, and she also got to ride a horse. She was thrilled.

Anyway, we're back. I decided I was too tired to go to work today, and Dutch is too sick to go to daycare anyway, so she and I are at home together mopping up all the household tasks that didn't get done this weekend. Cook got up at 6 to go to work, because he is stronger or more foolish than I am. Today I feel just Really Tired, but no longer in an altered state. After I unpack, do the laundry, and buy groceries, I think I might vote!


* I love that word.

Real People

I've been thinking lately about the idea that rural or suburban people are "real," and city slickers aren't. Some of the neighborhood planning work that's going on at the Planning Bureau is indicating pretty strongly that people who live out in the more suburban parts of the city think that one of teh strengths of their neighborhoods is that the people are Real. The rest of us, apparently, aren't. The idea is also being relentlessly beaten to death by McCain and Palin, and it's driving me nuts - isn't is wrong to dismiss people based on where they live, no matter which side of the urban-rural divide you're on? Don't we all pretty much have the same concerns? When non-urban people consider themselves Real, are they contrasting themselves to the old idea of cities, full of poor, criminal non-white people, or to the new idea of gentrified cities full of arugula-eating, hybrid-driving rich white people?

Anyway, this post about the geographies of Palin and Obama pleases me - it's the first I've seen looking at all beneath the surface of what constitutes Real in the campaign.