Monthly Archives: April 2006

just a sec, I’ll be right there!

Umm, yes! I’m still alive! Life is kinda…full, and I just haven’t had time, exactly. Job + former job + sick husband + school + houseguest = not blogging. Who knew?

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You: incoherent ranting about the German Mommy Wars. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but haven’t gotten around to writing it down yet.

Song du jour: Bonus Track 1, by Lyle Lovett. It doesn’t seem to have a name, how very, um…PoMo.

Sisters of Mercy concert

Well that was really fun! There was so much dry ice you couldn’t see more than a few hazy now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t silhouettes up there – could’ve been anybody, really, except that nobody else has a voice like that. But I really enjoyed the show, particularly laughing at the people with cel-phone cameras, taking pictures of the different colors of fog because there really wasn’t much else visible onstage. I was also laughing at me, trying to maintain my dour gothy dignity while grinning like a chimpanzee. DrBob was much more dignified, but I bet he didn’t have as much fun as I did. Heeee.

Also, I see a business opportunity here. If you could get hold of some rhythm wholesale, I could sell it outside concert venues here in Munich. These people need it desperately, so demand would be huge, especially among skinny girls with big hair and too much eyeliner.

Song du jour of the day: This Corrosion, of course. What else?

the parents meet with the kid’s therapist

Eeeerg. Well that was hair-raising. DrBob and I have had numerous conversations about his relationship with Ignatz, and what needs to change (DrBob’s answer is always that Ignatz needs to change), and I have been completely unable to get my point across. That is, he hears me, he simply chooses to ignore the possibility that I might be right. So my evil side was quite looking forward to the therapist telling him the same things I’ve been saying for all these years, to wit: you are an adult and he is a child and it is unrealistic to expect him to do all the work in this relationship. Which she did tell him, today. Hee hee. However. I was not expecting her to do it with me sitting right there. God, I wanted to hide under my chair.

DrBob appears not to have gotten the message yet.

Song du jour of the day is, um, I Don’t Want to Grow Up, by Tom Waits.

Yes. I am boring.

Because the DVD-rental place is about to close down, I’m renting DVDs lately. Yesterday there were three: Big Fish, where one character had a fair bit in common with my dad; the Lemony Snicket thing, about some orphans; and De-Lovely, about musicals, of which my mom and I were/are both huge fans. So I didn’t actually set out to rent DVDs that would remind me of my dead parents, it just sort of happened that way. And by the end of the day I was um, pretty pensive and not feeling much like writing.

Today no DVDs. Which is stupid, because time is running out! Also, it’s not like I did anything else useful today. I did get a phone call from the new webmaster, though, about a problem with uploading new stuff. Tomorrow’s the Sisters of Mercy concert (woot!) so I’ll be in the city anyway, so I’m going to go see him and help him try to sort it out. It’s just too bad I can’t be all Schadenfreud-y, though – hah! They need me after all! – because I really like the new webmaster and can’t find it in me to wish him any misfortune. Hell, he has my old job, that’s misfortune enough right there.

Which is terribly unprofessional of me to say, isn’t it? Especially after they already got miffed at me for being um… excessively candid? Remind me not to tell any prospective employers that I blog.

Such a sad, pathetic, half-assed entry. I should be talking about the German mommy wars, since I’m right here in it, but I have to organize my thoughts first. I still have the Newsweek article about it, and have been wanting to point out the key, crucial point that Newsweek missed. And of course I have all kinds of thoughts about how it ties into so many current problems and ultimately points to a single fact: the world’s economists desperately need to be lined up and shot. Quick, before they do even more damage.

Or about books! It really is just a weird coincidence, I totally didn’t do it on purpose, but right around Easter I read/am reading both “The Big Over Easy” and “The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse.” Isn’t that weird?

Oh, and we’re seeing Ignatz’s therapist tomorrow. Should be interesting.

Foggy brain

I can’t think anymore. I read three things today which seemed totally unrelated, but seen in the light of eachother, threw up some very interesting connections. But it had to do with the current political situation in the U.S., which is so dense and complicated and rife with assumptions that I don’t really have the language to question, that I can’t articulate the point I wanted to make, even though I spent most of the evening writing about it. They’re here, and here, and here, if you want to try to see what I saw. If you don’t want, hey, I understand.

DrBob is an academic, and therefore, basically, a professional arguer. You would think that hanging out with someone like that would be a good way to sharpen your own arguing skills, but it hasn’t worked that way for me. My avoidance skills have improved immensely, but my arguing muscles have atrophied. I got in a discussion over Michael Moore with a friend a few weeks ago, and found myself floundering when he started putting words in my mouth – insisting that I was making a point I had no intention of making. I’m so easily confused lately.

Oh yes, and poor DrBob? Look, I’m trying not to be superficial here, but ick. Maybe if he hadn’t insisted on showing me his stitches…

Song du jour of the day: Jerk It Out. Caesars.

ho hum

Wow, well I’ve been really busy, but with all boring stuff like homework. Also, while I was being busy with boring stuff, my house went and got dirty again. Still scratching my head over that one.

I think I’m disoriented because I was really too busy to pay any attention to the holiday, but it happened anyway, with the attendant two weeks’ vacation for my kids. Our routine is shot to hell, and all this stuff I’ve been up to has not fit into any kind of framework, it’s just one thing happening after another, which feels chaotic. Especially since I haven’t been using my calendar.

DrBob is feeling better, thanks for all your well-wishing. He’s feeling a bit too better, if you ask me. He actually wanted to go play soccer yesterday, on the same day as he had surgery. And if you think this is a buncha middle-aged guys tottering around the park at dusk, you’re only half-right. Some of them do that, but DrBob comes home every friday with something horrible – a bruised rib last week, about six gashes on his shin the week before where someone with cleats landed on him repeatedly, a hernia last year – for DrBob, soccer is a blood sport. I had a helluva time talking him out of it. And now he’s all…um, frisky. He’s got a face like a catcher’s mitt and he wants to get it on. Jeez. I’m having trouble thinking up diplomatic ways to say ‘no effing way’.

that was horrible

but at least it’s over now. And DrBob’s upper lip is a bit swollen (he looks like a Simpson), so at least there’s some humor to be had from the situation.

Now let us pause for a brief interlude of uncontrollable sobbing.

I’ll get back to you.

a theme-park and a pity-party

We went to Legoland today! For the last time, because it’s kind of a pain in the butt, especially for something you have to drive two hours to get to. We bought year-passes last year, and they’re just about to expire so we had to get in one last visit and it was okay. I got a face full of sun, and the kids always remember the having fun bit, and not the standing in line forever bit, so I guess that’s a good thing, but it’s so dreadfully expensive, and the food is so bad, and the shows are stupid and there are only like seven rides so we’ve really been-there-done-that. So all right. Enough is enough.

Okay, do not read past this point. Seriously. I mean it, there is major dental ickiness ahead, and you do not want any part of it. Unless you enjoyed Elemmaciltur’s “gross yucky wisdom teeth update” etc. postings, in which case read on. Have a ball. Also, seek therapy.

All right, you’ve been warned.

DrBob woke up with a toothache Tuesday morning. What it turned out to be, is that when a tooth was removed, 20 years ago, a bit must have been left behind, and now it’s infected and will turn into a cyst if it doesn’t get fixed. And what he has now is a metal plate in his upper jaw, from which a metal spike extends, and the replacement-tooth is screwed onto that spike. And the infection is up above the plate, so he needs a surgeon to cut his face open to fix it.

Right, so first, anything dental gives me serious heebie-jeebage. I hate anyone messing around with my teeth, cringe at any description of dental squickiness (no, I did not read Elemmaciltur’s wisdom teeth posts, and many thanks El for the nice clear titles that enabled me to steer away from what is for me a very touchy subject), I also hate driving, and hate getting up early, and I have to drive him to his 8:00 appointment in Landshut, which is total street-spaghetti, tomorrow morning. And from there we go straight to Munich and work, which means I have to be up and in office drag and ready to go tomorrow at 7:00, cool my heels in a dental surgery office for however long it takes, and then drive to Munich with my drug- and pain-addled husband, whose method of navigating even when he’s healthy sounds like this: “Aaaand that’s where you should have turned.”

Vicarious pain, a case of the creeps, panic, confusion and probably hostility, all before 10 a.m.? I just don’t see a down-side here.

oh, should I have clarified that?

In response to the boob-thing, Kelly said

um, what?

Uh, yeah. What, is that not normal? We’re at the FIL’s birthday party with his five still-living siblings and their assorted wives, and someone comments to my MIL that both her daughters-in-law are so thin. SIL’s not there, so all the focus is on me, nd Aunt Leni says I could use another ten pounds, here and here (no I didn’t slap her hand away, I was amused), and my MIL says no, her (meaning my) boobs are surprisingly big, given the rest of her, and Aunt Sophie tells me to be glad they’re not bigger enough to be a nuisance, and I guess that’s where we left it. DrBob seemed to think it was a Bavarian thing, I just figured that relatives get, um, earthier as they age. Hey, I was just glad to be included in the conversation, since I usually don’t understand what’s going on at all. I think the whole thing was a hoot, and another reason to be glad I married into a big family.

Happy Birthday FIL

After eleven years as Mrs.Dr.Bob, I was finally able to correctly identify all of the FIL’s brothers this year. Give me another eleven years, and I’ll be able to figure out which wife is whose.

I should really make an effort to learn the wives, since they were the ones talking about my boobs today.