Here are some of my recent favorite posts:

Bub & Pie writes about how “living life to its fullest” doesn’t have to mean physical risk-taking.

Bossy gave me a little panic attack with these two pictures: first this one and then this one.

Jonniker is talking about this interesting phenomenon: when you like/love someone, and THEY like/love someone YOU CAN’T STAND.

Firegirl is discussing Unusual Crushes.

Kirida has me going around pointing to things and saying “Awesome. Not awesome. Awesome. Awesome. NOT awesome. Try a little harder, maybe someday you’ll be awesome.”

Screamy Thing and her mom “being meerkats” totally made my day.

And if you’re feeling in an advice/input/feedback-giving mood, you can head over to Ms. Sassy Pants and talk to her ex-SIL, who is guest-posting about fertility issues. She’s ASKING for feedback, so you don’t have to worry that you’re giving unwelcome commentary.

We have a spider that lives between the screen and the glass of the window over our kitchen sink, and I tolerate her (even though I am a huge sissy re spiders) because she is a smallish, classic, Charlotte-shaped spider: almost more like a drawing of a spider than an actual, hairy-legged, fast-moving spider. She has graceful little legs, and she just hangs out in the corner there, industriously wrapping up little bugs and putting them in her pantry for later. I watch her as I’m doing the dishes.

The other day there was a fly in the kitchen, and it landed on the screen, so I opened the screen a little and quickly closed the window, so the fly could eventually bumble its way out. It flew near the spider, and that spider moved so fast and so alarmingly, I actually opened the window and saved the fly. I saved the gross, probably diseased fly, who given half a chance would litter the house with maggots. But the way that spider moved was so horrifying, and so evocative of my reptilian-brain feelings about spiders, that I acted fast and without thinking it through. I felt so sorry for that fly, seeing that same-size-as-herself spider coming at her like that. So if you notice a slight increase in the fly population of the planet, I’m afraid I’m to blame.

Those of you who have Netflix know that you can put your queue into several separate queues. For example, in our household we have the 3-out-at-a-time plan, so we have three queues: one is MY queue, for cool DVDs such as Firefly and Gilmore Girls; one is PAUL’S queue, for movies no one would want to see; and one is our JOINT queue, for the one in a million movie we both want to see, and also for the kids’ movies. When PAUL returns one of HIS movies, he gets the next movie from HIS queue. When I return one of MY movies, I get the next movie from MY queue. This keeps things fair and orderly, and Paul and I are both firstborns so we appreciate this.

Why can’t we just do an ABC pattern in one main queue, so it goes mine, Paul’s, kids’, mine, Paul’s, kids’, etc.? Well, for one thing it’s a pain to have to do that, especially if you want to reorder your movies: if I’m watching all the DVDs of The Wire, and suddenly I want to watch The Chorus, I have to change every third movie all the way down the queue. For another thing, the ABC pattern means that slowpokes get unfair benefits: if I’m taking forever to watch movie A, and Paul and the kids both return their movies, I get my next A movie when I haven’t even finished my first one. Meanwhile, Paul has to wait for HIS next movie until I return MINE. Unfair. So the multiple-queue system is awesome.

Netflix is canceling that feature. They reassure us that it is to improve the site for all their customers. OH YES. I can TOTALLY see how taking away a feature EVERYONE LOVES improves things for everyone! Yes, it’s totally clear to me now!

Paul is threatening to completely cancel our Netflix account. I can’t see doing that, because we don’t have cable so this is how we watch ALL TV AND MOVIES. But I am SERIOUSLY PISSED and LOOKING FOR TROUBLE. Well, or looking for other options.

[Edit: I was looking for a way to write to Netflix to throw a freakin’ FIT politely complain, but I kept getting routed to a phone number, and with five children in the house I don’t use the phone AT ALL. Kristin found the way to the email form, so I’m including her instructions here: “At the very bottom of the page in teeny tiny print, click ‘contact us’. Then under ‘Requests and Suggestions’ click ‘suggestions’ and it’ll give you an email form.” THANK YOU, Kristin. I wrote, and I suggest anyone else who hates this change write too.]

[Edit:

Dear Swistle,

You spoke, and we listened. We are keeping Profiles. Thank you for all the calls and emails telling us how important Profiles are.

We are sorry for any inconvenience we may have caused. We hope the next time you hear from us we will delight, and not disappoint, you.

-Your friends at Netflix

Well!]

I’m in my mid-30s, and my skin is showing signs of becoming more…delicate. I like the word “delicate” here, rather than the word “crepey.”

I don’t lose weight as easily or as quickly as I used to. And when I do lose weight, my skin is saggy rather than springing back immediately.

I made fun of a slang expression by acting as if I didn’t understand what it meant. This immediately reminded me of my grandfather pretending to think the word “cool” was meant literally. Har har, old person.

Lip hair. A couple of chin hairs. Nose hair seeming more intrusive. I’m still holding out for these being a pregnancy/nursing side-effect, but I’m losing hope. The worst is a couple of long freaky white hairs that grow in the area between my eyebrow and my hairline—and I usually don’t find them until they are more than an inch long. *Shudder* I think, “Oh, hey, I have a cat hair on my face,” and I brush it away and it does not brush away.

Upper arms are looking more matronly. Also, recently they’ve gotten redder? What is THAT about?

My mom and I were discussing another family, and gradually we became aware that the grandmother in that family was not, in fact, my mother’s peer as we’d been assuming while talking, but in fact only about 10 years older than me. A grandmother! Ten years older than me!

The Girls prefer increasingly wide/padded straps.

I see more veins in my legs. A few of them are varicose. I try not to think about it.

I see more little tiny veins on the sides of my FEET, like a pattern of reddish-purple lines. This is something I associate with my grandmother’s old-lady feet, and so I find it upsetting.

My default term for teenagers is “kids.” If I try to correct it, I come out with the even-worse term “young people.” YOUNG PEOPLE.

The skin on my face seems to be shifting downward. Just a little. But enough so I’ve started giving myself wrinkles from peering at it in the mirror.

My hands look older. More veiny, more wrinkled. Rougher, even with lotion.

I keep turning on lights for people who say they can see just fine. I remember my grandparents doing the same for me.

Is my hairline receding? Maybe just a little at the temples?

I’m so sorry, but this is going to be about constipated babies. If you would really rather not talk about it—and who could blame you?—perhaps you could give me some advice on handheld vacuum cleaners instead. Or maybe you’d like to just click out of here completely and pretend this never happened. I’d understand. I mean, constipated babies or handheld vacuums? What kind of choice is THAT?

A certain baby whose first initial is H and whose second initial is Enry is the first of my babies to have trouble with constipation, as, unbelievably, I have discussed on another occasion. I’m not keen to discuss the particulars of how I know he’s constipated and not just straining the way babies often do, and so you are just going to have to take a look at my resume (babysitter, daycare infant-room teacher, mother of five) and believe that I know what I’m talking about and am not a newbie wringing my hands over an imagined problem. Um, like you’d insist on hearing the particulars anyway.

I have now brought the problem up TWO TIMES at the doctor’s office, once at his 9-month check-up and once at his 12-month check-up. And clearly I should be more firm and less of a chicken, but I keep thinking they are going to take into account (1) my experience and (2) the way I don’t bring things up if they’re not problems, and that then they will think, “Hm, we should deal with this.”

But no. They tell me to reduce bananas and cooked carrots, to increase prunes and white grape juice, to make sure he gets plenty of fluids, and to give him plenty of fiber. They say, “Does he seem to be uncomfortable?” and I say “He wakes up in the night screaming,” and they say, “Hm.” Then they say, “Well, try prune juice. Prune juice will clear him right up.” And this is where I should say, “I once gave him nothing all day except stewed prunes and prune juice and I noticed NO EFFECT, so I think it’s time to move from dietary changes to This is a Real Problem,” but instead I lose hope and flop gently to the floor, defeated.

NEXT TIME, I swear I’m going to press the issue, and in fact I’m thinking I’ll call and make him an appointment for what the nurse once referred to as “a constipation work-up.” But in the meantime, if you know things that work, please do share. Milk of Magnesia? Cod liver oil? Flax seed oil? (I’ve given him flax seed meal.) Creamed corn? Extra vitamin C? I tried him with glycerin suppositories (I can really see why people fear parenthood, can’t you?), but the nurse said not to use them too often or the baby starts to need them every time.

I’m looking for both kinds of assists: things that will help PREVENT the problem, and also things that will help clear the problem up once it has occurred. (And although I seemed to be scoffing at dietary changes two paragraphs ago, I do definitely want to hear those as well.) I promise not to be reckless and use ideas blindly, but we have a Nurse Line we can call, and I find it works a lot better if I’m saying “Can I give the baby ____?” (nurse says yes or no and tells me the dosage) than if I’m saying, “What can I give the baby?” (nurse says I’d have to ask the doctor).

Don’t worry, Henry. I will delete this post before anyone your age knows how to use Google.

[Follow-up: What worked for us was:
1. grapes
2. pineapple chunks
3. flax seed oil (I cut open a capsule each day and squeezed the oil into yogurt or whatever
4. but mostly the grapes and the pineapple chunks
5. oh, and oranges]

If you grew up with a mother figure, what do you remember about her clothes and accessories and make-up and such? I remember:

• nylons in plastic eggs
• one pair of black strappy high heels (I broke them when I was 12 years old)
• a navy blue bikini with an anchor emblem on it
• one fancy red dress
• liquid eyeliner
• home perms
• Emeraude perfume
• a necklace of little white birds on a silver chain
• a “Flat is Beautiful” t-shirt
• a pair of tan running shoes

So all of a sudden I was like, “Huh. I don’t think I’ve seen any new posts by Tessie recently.” So I went directly to the blog (usually I wait for something to appear in my RSS reader), and I found I’d missed A WEEK AND A HALF of posts. Well, WHAT THE HECK?

So then I got nervous, and started going through my reader. Erica is near the top, and I thought, “Well, I haven’t read anything by her in awhile, but she’s on a blogging hiatus so that’s probably not a problem with the RSS reader.” But then I thought, “Well, why not check?” So I checked. OH HAI: I’ve missed a week and a half of posts. What! the! HECK???

Also near the top of the reader is Kara, and I thought, “Hey. I don’t remember seeing Friday Questions.” So I went directly to the blog, and what did I find? I found AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!, that’s what I found, because there were more missed posts!

What the heck, Bloglines? Now I have to go look through every single blog in my RSS reader MANUALLY, like it’s 2001 or something. Why do I even HAVE a reader, if there is going to be a MASSIVE FAIL like this? Why not WRITE LETTERS BY CANDLELIGHT??

This morning I felt a little bad for using a Poor Tone of Voice when I said to Rob that the bathroom door was not locked. He was trying to get in, and I knew there was no one in there, so I KNEW it could not be locked. And I was right, it wasn’t, but it was stuck in such a way that he was not able to open it and it did seem locked, so it was not the right moment for my educational seminar on Logic & Reason: When a Door Can (and Cannot) Be Locked from the Inside.

If our roles had been reversed, I would have said something like, “Rob. I open that door many times a day with no problem. So if I say it’s locked, I don’t think you should jump to the conclusion that I’m suddenly for no reason unable to figure out how to open the door; I think you should assume there must be some Unusual Problem with the door.” But did I follow that very sensible advice myself? No. He opens the door many times a day with no trouble, but when he says there’s a problem I went into eye-rolling “he’s suddenly for no reason unable to figure out how to open the door” mode. NICE.

To be fair, this is a child who will repeatedly answer in the affirmative, even when I know it should be negative and am giving him plenty of opportunities to reconsider. He’ll be looking for his shoes, and I’ll say, “Did you look for them under the couch?” “Yes.” “Really, you looked under the couch?” “Yes!” “Are you sure you looked under the couch? Because I’m pretty sure I saw your shoes there earlier.” “YES! I’m SURE.” “Maybe you looked under there another time, or maybe you THOUGHT you looked under there but actually…” “I looked. under. the couch.” “Rob, look under the couch.” “*HEAVY SIGH* Okay, fine, but I DID LOOK……….Oh, HERE they are!”

We’ve even had a similar “locked door” problem with the front door, which has a tricky latch. He’ll say, “I can’t unlock the door!” and I’ll say, “It WAS unlocked—now you’ve locked it!” And he’ll say, “No, I turned the latch the other way and NOW it’s locked,” and I’ll say, “No, it isn’t, just turn the knob harder,” and he’ll say, “NO, it’s……oh.”

Rob once told me that his favorite thing was to say something back to someone else until they ran out of things to say and he won. Way to tip your hand, buddy. And also: NO KIDDING.

Dear The Children’s Place,

First of all, I’m not sure you took into consideration the problems with giving yourself a name starting with “The.” It’s tricky, isn’t it? I mean, do I really have to write “Dear The Children’s Place”? That looks ridiculous. But “Dear Children’s Place” isn’t right. I suppose “Dear TCP” would work, but not everyone knows you as TCP. It’s puzzling. If this were a real letter actually sent to you, I would do “Dear Madam or Sir,” but since this is a blog post, that’s insufficient information for the readers. “Dear The Children’s Place” it is, then.

Secondly, considering that three of my last four orders from you have been shipped even though some of the items I ordered were “unfortunately” “not available,” do you think it is perhaps time to make modifications to your inventory system? As I see it, there are two good options here:

1) Fix it so that it doesn’t let me order things that are not in stock. Considering that things in my cart often go out of stock as I’m shopping, it seems you have systems in place for this already. Perhaps you could make them WORK. You say you “try very hard” and that you “sincerely regret”—but a 75% failure rate means UR DOIN IT RONG. You KNOW there is a problem, and I know you know, so we both know you need to fix it somehow. Your allegedly sincere regret is an insufficient solution.

2) Or, you could contact me BEFORE you ship the items, to let me know that your inventory system has failed ONCE AGAIN, and to give me the option to cancel or modify my order. It is not fair to ship the order and THEN say “O SORRY ITEMS UNAVAILABLE KBAI!!!” Sure, I could return everything else, but (a) that’s a hassle for ME and I’M not the one who SCREWED UP here, and (b) I’d lose my shipping fees. Sometimes the item that’s unavailable is the reason I placed the order, and the rest was just stuff I added in as long as I had to pay shipping anyway: I didn’t really want an order of six pairs of socks sent to me. Other times, if I’d KNOWN you were out of stock in green, I would have ordered the orange. Now that a week has gone by, the orange is also out of stock.

In short, your currents system sucks. That’s right: I said SUCKS. And I mean it. Get it together, you cheeseheads, because I LOVE your clothes and I LOVE your sales, and I would like to continue to dress my daughter and any future nieces in 99% TCP clothing until they’re out of your biggest sizes. KTHANXBAI!!!

Love, Swistle

I dreamed Sundry and I bought a Blogging House, a big Victorian, and all the blog world peeps could come and hang out. We had big handmedown-type couches and chairs EVERYWHERE, and computers EVERYWHERE, and big throw rugs on the wide-board hardwood floors. People were flopping around and chatting and eating, and wandering from room to room, and complaining about how their writing was going, and saying “I am soooooo hungry for a brownie right now,” and we had a crafts services table or whatever those huge long tables of snacks and foods and drinks are called on movie sets.

I was in the kitchen working on some experimental chicken recipe for a post; I had a laptop on the counter and I was typing in my notes as I encountered problems, and there were several people sitting at the kitchen table and calling out suggestions. And Sundry was measuring JB for an article she was doing on the subject, and he will be either pleased or totally squicked to hear that he was measuring Impressively. Jess Loolu was looking online at purple shoes, with all of us walking past the screen and saying “OOOOO, cute!” or “No, too casual,” and most of us had fancy coffees in hand, and people were always coming in or going out and yelling, “Hey, do I use ‘its’ or ‘it’s’ here?”

And then I woke up. Paul had accidentally failed to completely latch the outside door when he left for work, and that door is faulty so it was hanging wide open, and several flies had gotten in, and also it was just creepy to find that the door had been open while I was asleep. Then I discovered that a cat had thrown up on my upholstered computer chair.

In case you have been wondering, “I wonder what is the opposite of having a cool Blogging House with bloggy friends hanging out and eating and chatting?” it’s “Cat threw up on computer chair, and there are flies.”