she did it anyway

I started to write something about Bhutto yesterday. It painted her with too much perfection, so I stopped. Whenever people die, or even more so when they are murdered, we want to remember them better than they were. She was not perfect. She was at times questionable, polarizing and imperious. Given that, she was also ballsy, courageous, patriotic and unwavering in her belief of what her country could become. In my whole life I will never live a day as bravely as she did. Here's to you, Former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto, you crazy, bad ass, defiant, brilliant, blaze of glory.

he's electric

Have I mentioned that Small saved up his money since his last birthday and through the summer to buy an electric guitar? Well if I have not mentioned it, he did. I am a horrible guitar player, mr. hpmelon is a decent one (except for his refusal to play B chords - not sure what that is about), so I was unsure how Small would fair with his new instrument. I taught him his first two chords, mr. hpmelon taught him two more, then I gave him my old chord book, and it was like fucking lightning. He just figured the thing out.

Small is downstairs jamming with his dad and Smaller (harmonica) right now and I watched him for the last 15 minutes with a huge grin on my face. Maybe its how well he plays in such a short time, maybe its how, without even realizing it, he stands with a relaxed, cooler than the rest of the world, its about the music, stance. Maybe it's how he has not let me cut his hair for months so it's shaggy and grunge and ultra hip. Maybe its the Led Zeppelin t-shirt, or the way he holds his guitar and hangs his head down a little when he has a hard chord progression. Maybe its that when he sings his voice becomes a little deeper, but still is totally boy. Whatever it is, I can't stop smiling when I watch him like this. Pride? I think its pride. Pride that aches because he is moving forward so quickly.

I can forgive him anything when I see him like this. How great that smalls have moments in life that make us forgive all the other shit that they pull.

Have a happy holiday folks.

turn it upside down

What are you excited to watch? I find at this time of year, the other 'blah' that I face is my inability to get excited about any theatre that is out there. That is not to say that there is not really great stuff to watch, just that when I feel like hibernating I tend to not make a great audience member. So to try and combat my doldrums I would love to hear, from anyone out there, what your favorite shows running are. Oh hell, give me your top five from the year.

calling the snowflake

Last week when it snowed the smallers were in a complete frenzy the night before. They are full on into the 'get out of school at all costs' mindset. So the mere idea of snow sent them into a whirling dervish of snow preparation activity. I am not talking snow pants and mittens. I am talking worshipping winter gods and creating rituals to those newly formed deities. This is the chant they do while stomping around in a circle and alternating their hands and upper torsos up and down.

"Hooa heya snowa heya, hooa heya snowa heya."

They do this for about five minutes. Then they run and get ice from the freezer and flush it down the toilet. Evidently the quickest way to get their frozen offering to the gods of wintry precipitation is through the shitter.

Then back to the chant.

"Hooa heya, snowa heya, hooa heya snowa heya."

Now comes the one on one worship. They take turns. They kneel toward the window and bow as they pray.

Small: Oh snow gods. We do not want to go to school tomorrow. Please send us at least three inches of snow. That is all I ask. Three inches, oh great snow gods. If three inches is completely impossible, please, oh great snow gods, please send ice so the buses cannot drive. Please, I beg of you great and wonderful snow gods.

Smaller: Oh great and good looking snow gods, please make it snow. Snoooooooooooooow. Snooooooooow. We neeeeeeeeeeeeeeed snoooooooooooow. You are so good looking. Give us snooooooooooow.

Smallest: I want snow.

Smallest is still working on her delivery evidently. Lastly they gather together and put their hands in the center and yell "Go snow!" When all this was finished they high fived each other on a job well done and fell into bed expecting the best. The next morning there was a two hour delay and the three agreed that they had not prayed hard enough and that next time, more ice was needed down the toilet as well.

My little pagans.

maybe four a.m.

Be Near Me
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz Translated by Naomi Lazard

Be near me now,
My tormenter, my love, be near me—
At this hour when night comes down,
When, having drunk from the gash of sunset, darkness comes
With the balm of musk in its hands, its diamond lancets,
When it comes with cries of lamentation,
with laughter with songs;
Its blue-gray anklets of pain clinking with every step.
At this hour when hearts, deep in their hiding places,
Have begun to hope once more, when they start their vigil
For hands still enfolded in sleeves;
When wine being poured makes the sound
of inconsolable children
who, though you try with all your heart,
cannot be soothed.
When whatever you want to do cannot be done,
When nothing is of any use;
—At this hour when night comes down,
When night comes, dragging its long face,
dressed in mourning,
Be with me,
My tormenter, my love, be near me.

even with a minivan

MILF stands for Mom I'd Like to Fuck. So sweet. Endearing really. This term has become standard in our modern day lexicon, has it not? Well as a mom, and as an individual who has had this term used about my person, I want to make sure that everyone knows that this degenerate feminist, likes being called a MILF.

I know I am not supposed to. I know it really supports the assumption that once you are a mom, you could not possibly just be fuckable. You have to be fuckable for a mom. Right? Like we have to overcome the wear and tear to try and keep up with the unprocreating hotties. I recently had a discussion with a mom who had a lengthy tirade about the term MILF. How offensive it was, how degrading. I just could not buy into it. Maybe its because I like that the term makes the exception. I like that it gives me two distinctions. Mother and good looking. Yes, it is vanity people. I know that. Stop rolling your eyes. But it is damn hard to be a mom. It is work I tell you and I like getting credit for being one. I also enjoy being called hot, whether by mr. hpmelon, or by the random guy in the bar who yelled it out way to loudly and embarrassed me... but only for a minute.