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from grain bugs this winter. I don't know what the variety is; all I know is, we've had two infestations so far (or one continuous one, and didn't know we hadn't found them all).
There's nothing ookier than biting into a spoonful of cereal, only to discover little black eggs floating in the bowl ...
We saw this company on TV last night. For about $250, you can order a picture of anybody you want, done in the Warhol or Lichtenstein style.
We think it's awesome, though not our personal style these days. Still, if we ever have disposable income again, might be fun to look into this retro art style.
I am having a full-blown attack of nostalgia tonight. When I was in junior high school (age 12, I guess), we girls watched this film in Gym Class - The Story Of Menstruation, produced by Disney. Ladies, please go watch this film, and then say a little prayer of thanksgiving that "Our Bodies, Ourselves" supplanted it within a generation.
I remember that I let the info in this film sort of throw me off at the time, because a) the diagram of the uterus showed the menstration process as very tidy-looking and clinical, like plumbing - as you know, it ain't; and b) the cartoon girls in the film are all, well, mature-looking. They have curves and poufy lips, and they wear make-up. At age 12, I didn't look remotely like that. Nobody did. I mean, look at her! She's wearing a shower cap, for heaven's sake! What kid does that?
So, I ignored my teacher's lecture and just assumed this period business wouldn't happen to me for years. In fact, I put it entirely out of my mind. Figured when it eventually happened I'd know I was ready. Heh. Boy, did I get a surprise a few months later. But anyway ...
Ladies, I thought you'd get a kick out of this passage from the film:
To most girls, the menstrual stream should bring no severe discomfort. Some girls have a little less pep ... a feeling of pressure in the lower part of the body ... perhaps an occasional twinge or a touch of nerves. But don't let it get you down. After all, no matter how you feel, you have to live with people. You have to live with yourself, too! And once you stop feeling sorry for yourself and take those days in your stride, you'll find it easier to keep smiling and even-tempered!
I wish I could go back in time and get hired by Disney to write copy for this film based on real menstruation experience. It'd go something like this ...
To most girls, the menstrual stream brings a lot of discomfort. To say the least. Let's face it. Some girls want to hide in bed all day ... they feel like all their lower organs are attempting to squeeze their way out of the body ... perhaps they want to shriek because everyone around them keeps making that breathing noise. In and out, in and out, all day long! What's that about?! But don't let it get you down. After all, no matter how you feel, you have to live with people. And it's much harder to hide the bodies than you think. Which brings us to our next film in this series, entitled "Very Personally Yours: The Beautiful World of Over-The-Counter Medications".
Look, Mom!
The rose-scented geranium cutting you gave me two years ago has really taken off.
It's about two feet tall, and equally wide - this after I just finished clipping some of the longest branches off.
This geranium is a mint variety. Did you give it to me, too? I don't remember if I got it from you or from our church's garden sale.
It has a tendency to grow outward, rather than upward. I'm not very thrilled with this aberrant attitude. Still, pretty leaves and a fantastic scent.
Speaking of plants with attitude, here's a plant I definitely bought from church last fall. I left it unwatered, and in its styrofoam cup for so long, I was afraid I'd killed it, so I threw it into a pot outside and left it to decide its own fate. Happily, it turns out that was just what it needed. It thrived in the rain. So this morning we finally planted the thing. It has bulbs for roots, and it looks like a variety of violets. We'll see.
It's Sunday, and the sun is out. Be damn'. I believe this is the first sunny weekend day in two months. Well, okay, last weekend was sunny, but I had midterm-itis and missed the whole thing.
Visions of mowing the lawns today, which have grown approximately as tall as the dog. It's just been too wet to mow. We'd be embarrassed, except the other neighbors' lawns look just as scruffy. All except for the neighbor I call Max's Dad (because I know his dog better than I know him). Yesterday, a swarm of yard workers descended on his lawn. He's the only one around here who hires a service. But Max's Dad works odder hours than we do, so I guess it all balances out.
Uh-oh. We have a springtime situation here, blogfolk. A gang of disreputable-looking ruffians are obviously considering using this front porch as a bird condo. There are about a half-dozen of them. I've seen them all morning carrying bits of twig in their beaks.
Now, I used to be child, and I raised a child myself, so over the years I've seen the movie "Snow White" about as many times as the human brain can stand before permanent neural damage sets in. I assure you, I loves me the adorable woodland creatures. But if this gang really does nest here, they will cover our porch with adorable woodland creature poop that will be impossible to remove. Our grass may be as tall as the dog, but I do have some standards.
Just now, I opened my front door to grab the newspaper. The gang flew off to the nearest tree. I stepped out further. "No!" I yelled. "Sorry, the condo is closed." They flew even further away from the crazy human.
Now if they came in and did the dishes, I might be swayed.
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