Is that it?

I am in one of those moods when I just want to write random things and then I do and then people read the random things and think, "HA HA HA! What is wrong with her?!" but I never know that's what people are thinking because I don't have ESP which stands for extrasensory perception and is not one of the Myers-Briggs personality types. So, because I can't really hear your judging me, I am going to write whatever crazy thought pops into my head and have a grand ol' time while I do.

Speaking of ol', I really hate shops that use "ye", "olde" or "shoppe" in their names. Unless you are a blacksmith, don't do that. I don't want to get candy from "Ye Olde Candy Shoppe" because I assume it sells those weird old timey ribbon candies that my grandmother used to buy at Christmas. Related but not really, if I walk into "Ye Olde Candle Shoppe", there better be a butcher, a baker and a candlestick maker in there.

Actually, there shouldn't be a butcher and a baker because I don't want to buy food where they make candles so never mind about that one.

Speaking of candles, I used to really like candles until my cat walked by one and caught his tail on fire. He's dead now - not from the tail burning incident but because of other things like aging and meanness. Momo the Cat (pictured) has never had to deal with a candle burning her tail because our candle use declined after the tail incident and then we had kids and worried they would catch on fire. So, now, we don't use candles at all. I do miss candles sometimes. They always made the house seem cozy. We also used to like to burn incense because we were co-op shopping lesbians with a fondness for Guatemalan prints. That's not really true - I had only one Guatemalan print shirt and that was from my first girlfriend and, by the time Luisa and I were burning incense, I didn't wear it anymore. I'm breaking down stereotypes here! We eventually stopped burning incense because we came to our incenses. Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Speaking of Momo the Cat, Miguel drove her insane this morning singing his own version of Lady Gaga's "Applause" with the refrain, "We live for the appaws, appaws, appaws*..." Momo was not a fan but I thought it was funny and now I want an all feline remake of the original video:

http://youtu.be/pco91kroVgQ

Speaking of nothing in particular, I went for a pap smear today and my doctor asked if I would allow a medical student to do it. After having two babies, I'm not particular about who does my paps so I said, "Sure."

So, the medical student warmed up the speculum and started doing the deed and then she turned to my doctor and said, "Is that it?" I said, "I'm going to stop you right there. Never say, 'Is that it?' That does not instill confidence. People want to know that you know your way around down there." She laughed and said, "I guess I need to work on my wording." We all had a good laugh which made me happy because I have one goal when I see a doctor - make them laugh. It's a challenge but I usually win and it is very important to win doctor's appointments.

That's all for today. Thankfully. Tune in tomorrow for coherent thoughts. Hopefully. Maybe.

*Note: my computer keeps correcting "appaws" to "papaws" because it must feel olde timey as well.

PHOTO CREDIT: VIKKI REICH

Olivier Martinez as a young man

One night last week, Miguel was working on an assignment for French and told me that he needed to use the Googler to do a little research.

He told me that he needed to find a famous French person and dress up as that person the following day.

Clearly, our lectures about planning ahead are really having an impact on him.

Next to the laptop, he had a box of mustaches that his aunt and uncle gave him when they came for our wedding and his plan was to find a French person with a mustache that would match one from his box.

I suggested Louis Pasteur and he was all, "Who was that again?" Luisa explained that his discoveries played a role in the eventual use of penicillin. Miguel shrugged and said, "Yeah, well I am allergic to penicillin."

Apparently, that was enough to eliminate Louis Pasteur from the running.

It became clear that he did not want our input, so, we left him alone to do his research.

Later that night, told me he had it all figured out.

Me: Who are you going to be?

Miguel: Oliver Martinez!'

Me: WHO?

Miguel: Oliver Marinez! He's Halle Berry's fiancé.

Me: That's not even a French name! Are you sure he's even French?

Miguel: Yes. He is a famous French actor. I have memorized some of his lines from a movie and I'm all set.

Me (looking over his shoulder at the computer): First of all, his name is Olivier, not Oliver. Second, he's not really a historical figure.

Miguel: I never said the person had to be a historical figure. You did. Madame said the person just had to be famous.

Me: How did you learn about Olivier?

Miguel: He and Halle Berry's ex-boyfriend got in a big fight!

Yes, my son researches his French assignments by reading tabloids. I'm so proud.

The next morning, He came down the stairs dressed as Olivier Martinez and spouting movie lines in the worst French accent ever. I couldn't stop laughing...and then I noticed his mustache.

Me: Dude. What's on your lip?

Miguel: Stubble.

Me: Please tell me that's not Sharpie.

Miguel: Eet eeez! And zee glasses are for zee paparazzi!

Non-stop laughs here. I think I'll keep him.

I've also got a vlog with Deborah up today at VillageQ in which we talk about what we miss about our kids when we are away. Spoiler alert - I miss the laughs.

A Murder of Crows

About an hour ago, I was sitting at my desk and staring out the window, trying to make meaning of life by silently considering such questions as, "Why isn't my Facebook page showing up?" and "Will the sun shine again before May?" and "What Halloween candy is still in the bowl downstairs?" My deep thoughts were interrupted when a giant crow flew into the tree outside my window and startled me. It sat there, ruffling its wings, and then flew towards the back of the house. I then heard a great crow cacophony coming from the back yard. It sounded as if a thousand angry crows had gathered to plan an attack on an unsuspecting villager - like me, for example. I was afraid to look out the window because I worried they might stare right back at me if I did. So, I did what every brave soul does in times of danger - I sat at my desk and updated my Facebook status:

"The crows are out of control today - so loud. I think they are organizing and I am scared."

If I am ever in a grave situation, I do hope my last words will be more profound than those.

A few moments later, however, the crows disappeared and I was enveloped in an eery silence. I ran downstairs to ask Luisa if she'd heard the crows and found her sitting at her desk with headphones on. When she saw me, she took one ear bud out and looked at me expectantly.

"Did you hear all those crows in the back yard?!"

"I heard something. I thought it was a bunch of ducks."

Guess who's getting the Sibley Guide to Birds for her birthday?

"They were crows! Lots of them!"

She shrugged, put her ear bud back in and went back to work. I went back to my desk and noticed that a friend had asked on Facebook if I knew what a group of crows was called. I had a vague recollection that I'd looked it up before but couldn't remember so I turned to Google.

A MURDER OF CROWS!

I had obviously blocked that out.

Then, I did a little research about crows and learned a few things that I will share with you now...

1. Ravens and crows are in the same family but ravens are bigger. (I do not like this idea.)

2. I don't remember ever reading Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" in its entirety. (If I did, I forgot. I have read it now.)

3. About the phrase "eating crow" - 1) Crows are listed in Leviticus unfit for eating and 2) The earliest reference is in a story in the Saturday Evening Post in 1850 about a stupid farmer.

4. Crows are omnivores and, based on Google's autofill, I am not the only person to ask "Has a crow ever killed a person?"

5. Crows remember faces. (This is something I could have lived without knowing.)

6. Crows have regional dialects and conspire with one another. (Really, really do not like this.)

7. Male crows do not have penises. (I did not watch that mating video. Still too traumatized.)

8. Last but now least, crows will help you with NaBloPoMo. (Thanks, you freaky birds!)

photo credit: garryknight via photopin cc