Breathy Pumas
That jam is for my ladies right there.
I did it! Nablopomo March. All done. 31 days. Most of them lists. Another useless accomplishment to pin up on the fridge.
I wore especially cute and especially ouchy patent mary jane heels today. My toes are rising up in a cute French revolt, so I’m going to go rest these barking dogs, enjoy some nachos and watch a few more episodes of the wire (having scoured the City Paper for backstory, as is my wont, I feel prepared to finish the first season).
Aaaaaand the baby’s crying. Happy April, y’all.
Is March over yet?
I don’t know why I’m making myself continue Nablopomo. The lists I am making myself write are especially taxing.
- They are difficult to come up with
- They are generally boring
- they are (did I mention this?) difficult to come up with.
My sister and her boyfriend are here visiting and we are all plumb tuckered after a day at the Inner Harbor. I got some great pictures to share but that would require me finding my camera cable connector cord, and I think we’re just going to hang out in our flannel pants and watch ‘The Wire’ instead (never seen it! can you believe it?). Word.
Area Thumb Spy
I’ve been anagramm’d!
- Apathy Rubs Me (The Wrong Way)
- Maybe Trash Up (Then Again, Maybe Not)
- Bear Say Thump (“Thump.”)
Some things
- I like penguins
- I dislike recessions and media drumming thereof
- I like bathrobes
- I like nachos
- I dislike my to-do list today. It has angered me.
Sorry. Distracted by Friends re-run on the CW. It’s times like these I wish we had cable.
Jobs I have considered, but not seriously
- Electrician
- Rancher
- Home Appliance Repairperson
- Prop master — film
- closed captioner
I didn’t forget your list
Via Mamaneena, the girl who gave me rides to school in 10th grade, I stumbled upon I Invented Motherhood, who linked to Three Beautiful Things: “Every day I want to record three things that have given me pleasure.” Nice idea.
- Seeing Owen’s grinning face peering out of the front window of our house as I retrieved his pirate spyglass (a paper towel tube) from the back seat of my car. You’d think I’d fetched him actual buried treasure, such was his glee.
- Watching Cormac, 9 months, sitting on his rump a few paces away from his big brother, trying to color in a coloring book and glancing up at Owen now and then for pointers on technique.
- Peanut butter eggs. At this rate there will be nothing left for the Easter Bunny to get credit for.
Nablopomo: Two weeks in
I have run out of steam with the lists, you guys. Seriously. Come on. They are twice as boring to write as they are to read. And usually they are only one item long.
Things I baked today
- Pretzels
Places I went today
- Mars (the grocery store, not the planet, although I hear it needs moms)
Times I nuzzled Cormac under his chin today
- Twenty seven
See?
On a totally unrelated, random, and 6-days-late note, my blog, Supafine, which you are reading right now, is five years old. I have been writing about my incredibly, award-winningly boring life for five years. (It’s true, I have an award for being the most addictive yet boringest blog in town. I framed it and hung it over my eMac.)
I know I am no longer addictive, but I sure clung like mold to the boring. Thank you to each and every person who has ever stopped by to read what I have to say, and especially thank you to you people who leave a comment or send an e-mail or forge a more personal relationship with me, even though you are left sockless by the end of the exchange because your socks, they were done bored right off. I love you, but not in that way.
Crockpot challenge: Recycling!
Re-using? Reducing? All of the above!
We roasted a chicken for dinner last night. Delish. Then, I googled “roast chicken leftovers crockpot” (for Sunday night is Challenge Night, as you know). I set to work. I dumped the carcass in the crock pot with about 5 or 6 cups of water and some garlic and oregano for a good time. I set it to low and let it simmer overnight.
This morning, I chopped some celery, carrots and onion. Then I pulled out the chicken carcass and separated the meat from the bones and then ran the rast of the liquid through my colander into a bowl, because for some reason I don’t own a sieve. I have a feeling you’re not supposed to do it this way, but that’s how I roll. Experimentally.
Then I tossed the meat and strained broth and vegetables back into the crock pot for, oh, all day long. We went to the zoo and got some books at Daedalus and came home. I added two bags of Success Rice or Minute Rice or whatever that stuff is and waited 10 minutes to cook and then ladled it out to my loving family. Iain dumped salt on the top of his, cormac picked out the carrots, and Owen point-blank refused to touch it.
It was a little low on flavor, I concede. But it was edible, no doubt. And will be so again for lunch tomorrow.
And because the theme of the month is lists, I’ll give you one.
Books we bought today:
In the mood
For:
- Agrotourism
- Sweet BBQ chicken wings
- Cashmere twinset
- Rotary phone
- Easter-time candy corn
With a bullet or two
Containing no preamble but the words ‘containing no preamble’: Wednesday Occurrences.
- Cormac was awake and yelling his floppy-eared head off at 5:40
- Owen joined the fray at 6 a.m., looking for a few warm bodies to put his cold feet on
- I swept up what appeared to be 40 or 50 grams of dust, dirt, hair, and Apple Jacks fragments
- We watched Word World and I mused again that Duck sounds exactly like Jon Reep
- I made Dinty Moore over egg noodles for lunch and fed some to both kids
- I actually answered e-mail in a somewhat timely fashion
- Cormac took a two hour afternoon nap
- I explored a freaking huge fallen branch in the backyard with Owen
- We had tacos for dinner, and all but three shells were broken when we took them out of the package
- The boys got a bath and I was able to get Cormac’s hair to dry in a fauxhawk
- I googled ‘jobs in Ontario, Canada’
- I broke open a two-week-old bag of conversation hearts (Brachs, not Necco) and ate three without partaking in the conversation
- My copy of Wired’s TEST issue arrived, in a plain, unmarked envelope, like porn, which it kind of is.


