« August 2005 | Main | October 2005 »

September 25, 2005

in the sequel, there will be cops

The other night we went and done saw a movie starring Jodie Foster's cute hairdos and her liquid eyeliner. The movie was enjoyable in a sure-it's-great-to-watch-movies-about-missing-kids and oh-the-plane's-gonna-crash kind of way. At this point, my husband and I would watch a movie about moss growing on a shed, it's such a luxury to go out at all.

The previews rolled along as we enjoyed delicious popped corn and criminally over-priced candy. We were comfortably surrounded by chattery, grandparenty couples who were clinking their bracelets, adjusting their bi-focals and settling their big booties in for the film.

At one point, a beautiful Western vista filled the screen ala "A River Runs Through It". Two heroic, chisled men stared into the sunset, the music swelled, I think there were cows. I was only half paying attention since there had been about thirty previews. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the cowboys were dry-humping in a tent! Then they were soul kissing! And smelling each other's shirts! Yeeeow! A collective intake of breath was the only sound for the next thirty seconds as the seniors tried to reconcile what they were seeing on the screen with what they knew previously about cowboys.

I suppressed ten thousand giggles and the urge the yell GAY COWBOYS!! at the end of the clip. When the title of the film, which had been coyly hidden, finally flashed on the screen, I at first glance thought it said "Broken Moustache". My husband thought the name was going to be "Ride 'em Cowboys". Turns out it was this.

Good thing they put another trailer right after with Heath Ledger playing a straight guy or the whole audience would have passed out from lack of breathing.

Baby-sitter: $20
Tickets: $25
Snacks: $12
Making mainstream America pretty darn nervous: priceless

Posted by Max at 02:45 AM | Comments (0)

September 23, 2005

a-chicking out

The Bean is having a really hard time adjusting to his new daycare. I can't say as I blame the kid; he went from being in a Montessori environment run by a multi-cultural group of the kindest, most engaged and loving women in the whole history of childcare to being (barely) supervised by a couple of gum-cracking teenagers in a weird suburban strip mall. He literally GREW UP in his other, most beloved daycare, having been there since he was sixth months old. The one thing that made me cry leaving Seattle was having to say goodbye to his lead teacher who may as well have been his second mother. Where we live now, you have to be three to reap the benefits of Montessori so we are having to tough it out at this other place.

We've been trying to get him into the spirit of things by talking about making new friends and what fun he'll have going outside etc., but man it is so hard to leave him there. In the mornings when he is getting ready, he'll start to cry, then kind of catch himself and give himself a little pep talk that goes "Okay! Nice school, no crying!" I tell him it's OK to cry if he is sad, but that there really is no reason to be sad, school will be fun and I'll pick him up soon and blah blah blah.

Now that I am working again, my husband is dropping Bean off in the mornings. Today the Bean came up to my home office to kiss me goodbye and started looking at little stack of pictures I had on my desk. I asked if he wanted to take one of the pictures to school to show his teachers and friends and he got very excited and carefully selected one.

I just asked my husband how the drop-off went and he said not so good. When they arrived, the Bean started crying even before they got in the door. Once inside, he realized he didn't have anyone to show the picture to since he still doesn't know anyone. My husband said he then got really embarrased and stood clutching the picture to his chest and sobbing. Here is the picture.

I am going to go die now.

Posted by Max at 05:37 PM | Comments (2)

September 20, 2005

rock crusher

For the past week, it's been all about the stones. The stones in my husband's kidneys, that is. For someone as young and foxy as he is, the guy is uncannily prone to getting the diseases of the old and decrepit. We've spent a total of almost twenty hours over the past week in various ERs, waiting rooms, urological clinics, and stone zapatoriums.

It started with a pain in his gut that grew steadily worse, resulting in us rather leisurely getting our things together and heading to the Urgent Care clinic. The crap-ass doctor there thought he had appendicitis, so she did what any Urgent Care clinic would do and, um, called 911. Thanks, lady! She then sent us to the Worst Hospital in Rhode Island, a good forty minutes away. The ambulance drivers actually guffawed and said to my husband "You know, you don't HAVE to go there..." At this point, my husband was on a morphine drip and not up for debating the pros and cons of various medical establishments so he just sort of rolled his eyes and drooled in approval.

Since I had no freaking clue where we were going, I was told to follow the ambulance. I also didn't know what was wrong at that point. For an endless and heart-stopping ride, I followed the ambulance; running red-lights, driving sixty in twenty mile an hour a zone, and flashing on images of life without my husband while our two-year old sat strapped in the backseat. I was acutely aware through my shock how unsafe it was to be driving like that with the baby in the car, so I started blowing my horn every time I was about to do something dangerous. Running a light? TOOT! Passing cars on the left? BEEP BEEP! Swerving around a semi? HONK!!! The Bean, punk rocker that he is, actually fell asleep on this ride from reality TV that somehow became our reality.

Once there, my husband was eventually diagnosed with good old-fashioned kidney stones, which he has had before so I knew it wasn't fatal. What was almost fatal was keeping a toddler entertained in an ER waiting room for seven hours. The ER was (barely) staffed by harried nurses and doctors who were fiercely protective of both information and painkillers. Inside, gurneys filled with sad and broken people lined the hallways. Outside, it was ninety-five degrees and the liquor stores and halfway homes nearby provided neither shade nor appropriate toddler diversion. The Bean and I did laps around the hospital hallways, crashed the employee cafeteria, chilled out in the hospital chapel and bought matching stuffed dogs at the gift shop. Note to self: GRAB PORTABLE DVD PLAYER WHEN FACING MEDICAL EMERGENCIES. The healing powers of Elmo have proven to be unrivalled.

Today said stones were zapped using incredible, non-invasive technologies and techniques. I've said it before and I'll say it again: SCIENCE! We somehow ended up with the best urologist ever, karmically making up for our horrific ER experience. We were in the recovery area waiting for the heavy drugs to wear off (my husband, not me - sheesh!), and the doctor came over to talk to us. While explaining how to use a paper filter to collect the now-shattered stone fragments for analysis, the earnest and sweet doctor mimed taking out his own John Thomas and peeing into the filter. My husband doesn't remember this due to the drugs, but I for one shan't forget it.

Thanks Dr. Pee Pee for making this home a healthy one once more.

Posted by Max at 01:12 AM | Comments (0)

September 09, 2005

helmet head

Here in Rhode Island, we do things we have never done before. We take family bike rides! We chitchat with neighbors over the fence, like on sitcoms! We go to sailing mixers! Well, we haven't yet but we are going to.

I've already worn a pair of Nantucket red pedal pushers and sashayed around town like L.L. Cool Bean. My plan is to go to the above-mentioned mixer in full-on quahog drag: sweater set, pearls, maybe pants with whales on them WHO KNOWS? I could be anyone. And the husband wants to wear seersucker, which is a fine choice although to be honest it is a bit late in the season.

Yesterday, we got strong-armed into having our yard mowed in that some guys just started mowing it. It turns out that I get a bit swoony around thick-necked, flat-accented tough guys because they are JUST SO MANLY and I am weirded out by their whole scene. So sending me out into the yard as negotiator was probably not the best move, especially since I was packing the pedal pushers. I think I may have agreed to a once-a-week-service, which my own tough guy will have to re-negotiate since we are so freaking broke. Sorry about that sweetie!

Speaking of being broke, we are the only ones in town not driving a MercedesBMWHummerSUV. But it's cool because I think once the husband and I get the diamond-encrusted gold caps, folks will see that we prefer to put our money where our mouths are.

Our dear friends and fellow ex-West coasters arrive tomorrow from yet another bastion of alternative lifestyles...Connecticut! This should bring a blessed weekend of normalacy to an otherwise pretty surreal time.

Posted by Max at 01:44 AM | Comments (0)

September 02, 2005

frogs like to swim in pools, too

But sometimes they can't get out unless you help them. And sometimes they end up in little bits in the filter. Don't tell Bean.

We have frogs! Frogs frogs frogs frogs frogs. And fireflies, too. It's little boy heaven and equally delightful for moms who want to sit out on the porch with their husbands and their beers and be so, so grateful they are all safe and happy. nola.com is a good site to help those who are not so fortunate right now.

We are helping as we can and thinking most especially of all the moms and babies.

Posted by Max at 12:46 AM | Comments (0)