Lists

About once a month I get around to doing this--that is, logging on and making an entry. Because I'm overworked (and probably overpaid, as well--last month I did not sell enough to make up for my salary) I will have to make this brief. Here is September's:

1. Selling Advertising Does Not Make The World A Better Place: Duh. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the website had a noble purpose other than making money. (Well, the news is there too. But I assure you, news is not the primary purpose.).

2. Issac Speaks Spanglish: Issac is attending daycare for the first time. I searched high and low for the right place to put Issac while I am working--because I was hired in the middle of July, most daycare programs were already filled up with long waiting lists when I began my search. Nervous but persistent, I refused to give up hope of finding a good place, and I stumbled upon a brand new pre-k program called "Champion Christian Academy." Subscribing to the philosophy that the more money you pay, the better the quality of care, I was able to leave Issac there with a much smaller sum in my bank account, but a large deposit of security and trust. The rooms are nicely organized and stocked with ample opportunities for dress-up. Added bonus? All the teachers are bilingual and conduct the day in both languages.

A typical phrase in our household these days? --"Mommy, I'm going to sit in the rojo chair. Give me some verde vegetables. On the amarillo plate. Gracias!"


3. Air Show: It cost the city $450,000 to host the first air show in over a decade at the local airport. I had tickets from work, and so I took my brother and Issac. It was...very hot. The scene: asphalt and pavement, 95 degree weather, and full sun. Luckily we had a canopy to rest under in the shade. Issac was impressed for the first hour, and then spent the rest of his time pulling all of the water bottles out of the cooler of the VIP tent we were resting under, methodically peeling off all of the labels.

On one hand, it is fascinating to view the act of human flight, especially when the acts are done with precision and style. Patty Wagstaff, a female aerobatics champion with an aggresive flight style, was inspiring to watch. Red Barron bi-planes did hundreds of loops in the sky. Fat Albert, a cargo jet that holds 42,000 pounds of fuel, defied the law of gravity by practically levitating in the air through the use of rocket boosters. Wow. Cool. Fun. Loud.

The Blue Angels, of course, were also exciting. Four planes fly at high speeds in tight formation, with their wingtips just 18 inches apart.

But really, it wasn't worth sitting in the hot sun. And more than anything else, the entire event struck me as one gigantic military recruiting stunt. Not that the military is inherently bad or anything. Just that I am uncomfortable with the idea of violence, death, and destruction.

4. The Garden: On a lighter note, our winter garden is up and in full swing. We still have several beds to prepare, but already have impressive sized brocolli and mustards growing in little random patches throughout the garden. We cut more sticks for the sweet-pea tee-pee, so there will be plenty of stakes to hold up the healthy, hearty plants, which have already pushed their tender heads through the enriched soil that Issac and I worked into the ground. I anticipate a higher yield this year because we enriched the soil, but also because I consulted the Farmer's Almanac before planting. We want everything on our side this year, even the moon, because--yum--we love sweet-peas.

5. Martha Stewart: When Fall rolls around (my favorite time of year), I get all excited. I long to be Martha Stewartish, spending my days doing hearty, wholesome things like planting bulbs and harvesting pumpkins, preparing for fanciful holiday parties, and deciding on new flatware and table dressings for the season. Instead, because it is really all I can do to keep the laundry clean and dinner planned, I will simply read her magazine and sigh.

I do a lot of that lately. (Sighing, I mean).

6. Sighing: I wonder if this is good for you or bad for you. Have any doctors done any tests? Is a sigh a stress-reliever, or a depression-inducer? Do people who sigh a lot live longer or shorter? Does chronic sighing bring on wrinkles or keep them away? I dunno, but sometimes it feels so good to let out a good, long, Napolean Dynamite sigh.

It was one of those wrinkled shirt days--she ironed it in the morning, while the boy was eating his cereal at the table, sloshing his milk out of the bowl with a spoon and rubbing it around the placemat. She was careful not to let his grubby hands touch her as she wiped them clean with a wet cloth, or after, as she carried him into his carseat (God knowsthe boy's hands are always dirty). Still, her shirt was wrinkled when she arrived at the office. She sighed.

She wrote down a list of all the rainbows she had ever seen, and kept it in her pocket, crumpled into a soft, worn, ball. There was the rainbow over the meadow, bleeding out of the cool, indigo sky. The sun hit the sides of the horses who were grazing in the meadow there, and gleamed off of their wet, brown sides, making them appear golden. There were the rainbows, much less brilliant and sure of themselves, that were wisped away as quickly as they came, visible over the trees and the powerlines that ran along the road where she grew up. There was the rainbow that she made in the waterhose in her mother's garden, when she made a fine mist with her thumb and shivered at the droplets falling on her shoulders. Rainbows are exquisite perfection, she believed, and taste delicious.