It is hard enough to remember my opinions, without also remembering my reasons for them! - Friedrich Nietzche

From Salon’s poetry contest; I think I love this woman:

My hair is gray upon my head
(for that is where it grows)
and yet, the TV surgeon said,
I still could fix my nose,
Botox the wrinkles from my brow
and plump my thinning lips
(both on my face and down below)
and lipo tum and hips.
'Twould send my self-esteem sky high,
he said, to have this look.
I cut myself a piece of pie
and went back to my book.
- Katha Pollitt, New York, N.Y.

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10 years ago: August 1995. Dan and I had been married for 6 months. Still no bloodshed. We were looking for houses.

5 years ago: August 2000. 5 months pregnant with Simon. Just back from a vacation at the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania.

1 year ago: August 2004. God knows. My short-term memory is shot to hell. Best as I can recall, just back from a long weekend in SH with Liane and her boy; preparing for another SH vacation in September.

Yesterday: Children’s museum with boys and friend and her daughter. Lunch there. Nap in afternoon. Clambake/birthday surprise party for Dan’s cousin in evening. (I ate three dozen clams. Disgraceful!)

Today: Grocery shopping at 7, hang out with the boys and be silly for a while, work 10 till 6. Go home, have leftovers for dinner. Maybe watch a movie. Go to bed early.

Tomorrow: Birthday party for Nadav in morning, David and Marisa’s in evening. Schlump around with the boys in between. Maybe plant some cheap, half-dead plants I bought at Home Depot a week ago.

5 snacks I enjoy: Tomatoes sliced up on crackers with salt and cheese; Goldenberg Peanut Chews; Jif pb on Ritz crackers; sharp cheddar and pretzels; cheese

5 bands/singers that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: Dar Williams, Chris Smither, Rusted Root, Bruce Springsteen, the Wiggles

Things I would do with $100,000,000: Invest for retirement, hire a contractor to fix/replace windows on our ancient falling-down house, put away cash for boys’ school. Buy Dan a Prius. Give away, to relatives, charity, etc. Especially to my new nephew, because my brother has been so generous with my boys, it’d be a joy to give him a wad o’ cash. .

5 locations I'd like to run away to: the shore (preferably SH); Antigua; Paris; Florence; Prague

5 bad habits I have: nail biting; short temper; not shaving my legs; obsessive email checking; yelling

5 things I like doing: blogging, reading, running, quilting, baking

5 things I would never wear: appliqué; sequins; ruffles; Disney characterized clothing; pleated pants

5 TV shows I like: ER; Family Guy; Curb Your Enthusiasm; Rock Star INXS; C-SPAN’s broadcasts of British parliament

5 movies I like: Moonstruck, Love Actually, The Wedding Singer, 101 Dalmatians, The Godfather

5 famous people I'd like to meet: John Cusack; Colin Firth; Jane Austen; Barbara Kingsolver; Laura Bush

5 biggest joys at the moment: Jude, Simon, my/Gina’s blog, anticipating my vacation, anticipating not being pregnant anymore!

5 favorite toys: my food processor, my new mitre box, the new ceiling fan remote, sewing machine, CD burner on my computer

5 bloggers tagged (if they made it this far & if you feel like it): Carolyn, Badger, Sara Louise, Katya, Gina

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The boys and I went to the Children’s Museum yesterday, mostly because I can set them loose in the third-floor water area and sit on one of those groovy surfboard benches and rest for an hour or so. And because I can set them loose in the Mr Rogers’ exhibit and I can sit on the comfy plaid couch for an hour and monitor them from there. And because it’s air-conditioned and the zoo decidedly is not. The last thing they wanted to do before we left for home was climb the Habitrail-like apparatus on the ground floor. It’s similar to all those climbing thingeys at McDonald’s Playlands across America, and it makes me intensely claustrophobic just thinking about getting into it. (Which I have had to do once or twice in the past when Si got stuck.) Judeman climbed up and down the entire two-story structure twice, only needing help with a butt-boost from an older kid once. Simon got two-thirds of the way up and panicked. His feet were dangling off the platform above, he was two inches from the bottom platform he needed to land on, and he would *not* drop. I sent his little friend Sarah up to help him but he wouldn’t release his death clutch on the wire surrounding the climbing things. Repeated injunctions for Sarah to “just give his legs a good yank” did not endear me to the parenting gods, I am sure. God help me, I sent his little brother up to help him but Jude wasn’t interested – maybe he hoped if he left Si in there we’d get to just leave him there for good? After twenty minutes of cajoling, explaining, offering other kids’ help, I finally just snapped, “Simon, I CANNOT fit in there so you have to figure out how to get out yourself,” and went to sit down on the bench at the end of the hall. Crying, whining, and lots of bleating “Mama….Mmmmaaammmmaaaaaa”s ensued. Eventually I yelled at him to let Sarah help him down, to let go of the cage, and over and over again, “I cannot go in there to help you, Si. I simply will not fit!” How did I go, in twenty short minutes, from being cool mama who takes her kids somewhere fun and lets them run around to shrieking shrew of a mama who is clearly humongous with child, having to yell for the entire population of the Children’s Museum that I am TOO FAT to fit in the Habitrail?! Life is so not fair. I was angry because I couldn’t go in to get him; I was angry because not one single employee offered to help me; I was angry because Si really was perfectly capable of getting out of the damn thing himself, it was at that point a power-struggle to get ME to come help him. I was really angry because I had to pee and instead had to stand there and argue with my stubborn four-year-old. Finally an older child physically lifted Si off the platform and dropped him onto the next one and chivvied him the rest of the way down. Darling gap-toothed eight-year-old boy who was there with your grandma, I will be forever grateful.

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I am almost done The Sparrow (and am gratified to learn that there is a sequel, which will most definitely be accompanying me on my trip to the shore later this month). In many ways the writing style and references to God and theology remind me of Madeleine L’Engle’s books. The same air of tentativeness and exploration of spirituality are there. The structure of The Sparrow is intricate, and can be confusing, told as it is in large chunks of flashbacks with intertwining plotlines. The plot doesn’t emerge in surprises, but as slowly- and naturally-unfolding revelations of events and knowledge. The main character, Father Emilio Sandoz, is enigmatic, romantic, and sympathetic. The tension and interaction among the other characters is meaningful and nicely drawn, and like most “scholarly” novels, background information (this novel utilizes everything from Biblical stories to Mel brooks films) is essential to grasping all the nuances of the plot and characterization. The Sparrow is a beautiful and haunting book essentially about one man’s quest for God.

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Gina is, poor soul, in Disney World for the next five days with her son and parents. My thoughts are with you, Gina : )