11/13/2011
Sunday. We survived the weekend. We had our second birthday party of the weekend today, our friends hosted a private party at The Childrens' Museum in Portland - apparently you can come two hours before they open at noon so you have the whole place to yourself. I really, really liked this option as weekends at TCM are typically insane. And that's just the parents, the kids are usually just being kids. It was so much easier to relax and keep an eye on our spawn without a bamillion other kids climbing and shouting and generally freaking out.
The museum had a cool exhibit about whales, which featured a life-sized inflatable whale hanging from the ceiling and a movie booth emitting whale sounds. Margaret took in the whale, turned to me and said, "That whale is scary!" She had a great time playing with the chickens and eggs, the market, and the veterinary office. Little Michael went upstairs with his dad and I didn't get to see him but apparently he was very fond of the space shuttle.
Childrens' parties are always a good way to see just how behaved (or not) your kid really is, and today went pretty well (I am relieved to say). Michael asked for water when offered apple juice, Margaret exclaimed "I'm not sitting in a seat!" and insisted on being seated before accepting any food or drink. They didn't gorge themselves on cake and make themselves sick, in fact Margaret just ate some of the frosting and was done with it. I heaved a sigh of relief inwardly, I'll admit it.
In the car on the way to Portland we were listening to Ella Fitzgerald sing some dreamy jazz song about love and halfway through I heard Margaret start crooning to herself along with it. It was a pretty decent approximation of what she was hearing and her little voice just tickled me, it was so cute. Michael and I exchanged a look but said not a a word so as not to alert her that we were paying attention, and when the song was done I asked, "Did you like that song, Margaret?" She grumpily retorted, "No! That song was annoying!" Weirdo.
After the party we went with J&L&Co. to Ri Ra, one of our favorite places. Every time I go there I think to myself, "I really want to take the kids to Ireland." I'd really like to take them to Scotland and Germany, too, to meet some far-flung relatives. Well in retrospect I guess we're the far-flung relatives, ha.
The kids were well behaved there, too, service was pretty slow but I had an excellent Irish Benedict that was a creamy, crispy, potato pancake topped with a rasher of thick bacon, poached egg, and Hollandaise. It came with a side of hash browns which were plain so I didn't eat them (two potatoes on one plate, ha) and half a tomato, grilled, which was pretty decent. Had some great coffee there, too. I don't often eat heavy breakfast food like that but it was after noontime and I hadn't had anything that day other than part of Margaret's cake that she didn't eat (and wasn't sitting too well in my stomach, bleurgh). We had a short walk back to the car that was nice, Michael was walking with Margaret on his shoulders and kidlet was holding my hand, talking a mile a minute about something mathematic (I forget what). We were passed by an older couple and the man said, "Good day, family!" It was very sweet. However my knee was letting me know that the stairs at TCM had made it very angry.
It sucks - just when I think my knee is completely healed and good to go I'll have a day where I do just a bit too much and it reminds me "Hey, asshole, there was a probe and a bunch of lights and shit all up in here just a few weeks ago." Overall, though, the pain I still get from time to time is nothing compared to what it was before and most days I don't even think about it now. On Friday I was sitting on the floor cleaning up the living room and rolled up onto my left knee like I usually do before standing up. Of course I didn't KNOW that this is what I usually do until I did it, and holy shit that hurt. Lesson learned.
In another week I have my second and last post-op follow-up with Dr. Awesome, I'm sure since I can pretty much dance a jig on the thing I'll get the green light and never have to go back again. Hooray! This week I'm having a tooth filled. Boo! The day after THAT I'm getting a pedicure. Whoopie! I need to fit in getting my car inspected and getting an estimate for general body work somewhere, too. Think, think.
When we got home Margaret was wiped out (she's been valiantly fighting off a cold and has been a bit wheezy on and off) so I took little Michael out to pick up pine cones from the side of the road. We walked across the street and down a bit to where there are a couple of hoary old pine trees that were dropping enormous cones and filled a shopping bag full, then I drove us down the hill and parked at the Dairy Queen so we could hit the grassy bit beside an auto body shop where there's a line of six or eight mature pines and got a ton more, all sizes. I wish I could have walked with him but my knee was already pretty mad and I didn't want to get down there and not be able to walk back up our considerable hill. We talked about pine pitch, and what the cones look like when they're on the tree, what happens to them in the process of drying and losing their seeds, and observed how younger pines generally have smaller cones. Every experience a learning opportunity, that's what I say. It was nice to hang out with my boy and do something mindless but fun. We came home with three large shopping bags overflowing and they smell awesome.
After dinner, I got the kids together and chopped up a bunch of old crayon pieces and had them help me fill a couple of (new, unused) silicon candy molds of hearts and dinosaurs. Then I put them in the oven and melted them down to make new crayons. I just checked on them out in the kitchen and they're more or less cool, they pop out of the mold very easily and look cute. I think they're going to love them. It'll be a great way to recycle old crayon stubs. The molds themselves are very nice, I wasn't sure what to expect when I ordered them online but now I might get one to make chocolates. We don't have chocolates around the house for ourselves, but it would be a nice, inexpensive gift option.
Poor Margaret, she's coughing on and off in the bedroom, I can hear her from here. I gave her a dose of saline spray in each nostril tonight to hopefully keep her passages moist and clear. I hate it when she gets sick.
Tonight I caught a blog entry by someone I read from time to time who just makes me shake my head in befuddlement. The only time they ever note me is in response to something I say when I finally just can't take it any more, so I know they don't read me at all or know a thing about me. Anyway they were commenting on the whole 99% movement and made the following comment:
"I heard an interesting statistic that, contrary to popular belief, the 1% are not people who make millions a year. The actual number is something like $334,000. 99% of Americans make less than that figure, so the 1% represent those that earn above that. A dual income household of professionals would have no problem breaking that barrier."
Interesting tidbit, first, but then the second part made me just...well, when I read that I laughed out loud, seriously, I just went HAW HAW and then sort of went "ahem". Because...really? It was the whole "dual income household of professionals would have no problem" thing that got me, I mean, not only does it sound pretenious as all get-out, but there are a lot of people working at professional jobs who don't make six figures, myself and my husband included.
I'm not working a trade or a craft, and I'm not a laborer, I'm an educated person who has a fairly specialized skill set. My husband even more so. We are a two-income household of (what I thought were) professionals, but hey, maybe computer programming is considered the kid whose parents buy store brand to the doctor and attorney kids who get Kellogg's Rice Krispies instead of Crisp Rice.
Unable to leave well enough alone, I left a couple of notes and got a couple of responses. (I privatized the ones I got, bitches, so no trolling for dramz.)
"'A dual income household of professionals would have no problem breaking that barrier.' What? Really?
*laughs* Oh, man, you are REALLY out of touch."
Okay, that wasn't the nicest thing I could have said, but I was still boggling over it.
Their response:
"ryn: I said "professional" couple. The average attorney or physician makes over $175k, a pharmacist $130k, etc. So a married pair of those easily hit those earned income numbers when you factor in bonuses, investment returns, etc."
My reply (which was not "Well la di frickin' DAH", or "130 + 130 = 260," neither of which would have been appropriate):
"So, by your definition, unless you make over $130k a year a career is not a profession. It's not at all impacted by geographic location, level of education, job saturation, or demand for skills.
Boy, oh, boy. I stand by my previous statement.
(Also, I highly doubt I'd be able to find a pharmacist around here who makes six figures, even at the compounding pharmacy.)"
After reading their last retort I decided to just let it be, because it was clear there was no point:
"ryn: There is a big difference between a career and a profession. It's not difficult to hit six figures with the right education, training and specialized knowledge."
o_O Really? Really?
I don't know a single person in my passel of friends and acquaintences who make $130k or more a year, not even the ones with Masters and Doctorate degrees. So I guess...none...of them...are professionals, even though they couldn't do what I do and I couldn't do what they do?
Oh wait, wait, I might know one person, the only one that I could even begin to think might bank that kind of paycheck would be the geneticist with a Doctorate who until recently was working in California. Even that I don't know for sure, but they seem the most likely candidate. Still, the rest of us - that's a lot of really fucking smart people, and I sure as hell don't have the balls to suggest to any of them that they aren't professionals.
So there. I've come to know a good number of (again, what I thought were) professionals here on OD, and a bunch of you are even programmer nerds like myself. Am I completely delusional? Do you all make six figures out there and I'm the one who is getting ripped off? Damn, I don't know. Here I've been going on the assumption this whole time that I've been pursuing a profession, when it looks like I've just had a series of jobs. Joke's on me, I guess. Maybe I need to sleep with more people so I can make as much as the menfolk with the same skill set.
Heh, I'm sorry, I'm still slightly gobsmacked over the whole thing. I guess I'll keep living my serf-y little life because at least I serve a purpose to someone should they need their lawn mowed.
I went and talked to my husband about it because he is by far the more level-headed of the two of us, utterly lacking histrionics. He doesn't get bothered by anything. After listening to me said, "The thing is, people like that don't think people like us are professionals. It doesn't mean they're right, it just means they exist in an entirely different circle than us, or most people, for that matter." He always has a way of condensing it down into a kernel of truth. That's why I married him :)
That aside, let's move on to something else, some pictures of what's doing around here lately.
- begin wholesome crafty pictures -
Before:
After:
Not too bad! Sure beats trying to pour it, which is what I was doing (unsuccessfully) before.
A very small portion of our haul today:
Happymerrylucky Springchristmaweenynewyears! Oh, and our thermometer is broken.
- end wholesome crafty pictures -
- begin family picture overload -
Yay, let's all pile into the office! The subject was inevitably cat videos.
Then, my son decided to start pulling faces.
This one...there's just so much going on in it, I love it.
The cats love the sherpa blanket I got (for ME). Louis is so totally crashed out.
Francis was crashed out nearby - it's contagious.
At the farm stand last week I found a really large carrot. Michael came home from school on Wednesday and I heard him exclaiming out in the dining room; when I went out to see what he was up to he held up the equally enormous papaya and said, "WHERE did you find all of these GIANT fruits and vegetables?!"
They were bigger than his head! He was very amused and insisted on photographic evidence.
(Ugh, those poor worn down little baby teeth, I can't wait until they fall out.)
He is such a ham. As you can tell both of my kids are very shy and timid.
Louis was like, "Thuh fuh?"
Oh, right - Japanese sweet potato. Also large.
Then he insisted on getting pictures balancing them on his head.
I know that looks aren't everything, but he is so handsome I could just die.
This about sums it up. I am so glad to have gotten a kid with a sense of humor.
(Yes, Joy, you may have a banana.)
Poor Francis. I feel so bad that he loves fleece blankets so much, it's clear he was taken from his mommy far too early. I just leave him to it and wash it later.
Cat nap.
Margaret, looking far too grown up for her own good. And my heart.
(She picked that outfit by herself, can you tell?)
- end family picture overload -
That's it, I am outta here.
The museum had a cool exhibit about whales, which featured a life-sized inflatable whale hanging from the ceiling and a movie booth emitting whale sounds. Margaret took in the whale, turned to me and said, "That whale is scary!" She had a great time playing with the chickens and eggs, the market, and the veterinary office. Little Michael went upstairs with his dad and I didn't get to see him but apparently he was very fond of the space shuttle.
Childrens' parties are always a good way to see just how behaved (or not) your kid really is, and today went pretty well (I am relieved to say). Michael asked for water when offered apple juice, Margaret exclaimed "I'm not sitting in a seat!" and insisted on being seated before accepting any food or drink. They didn't gorge themselves on cake and make themselves sick, in fact Margaret just ate some of the frosting and was done with it. I heaved a sigh of relief inwardly, I'll admit it.
In the car on the way to Portland we were listening to Ella Fitzgerald sing some dreamy jazz song about love and halfway through I heard Margaret start crooning to herself along with it. It was a pretty decent approximation of what she was hearing and her little voice just tickled me, it was so cute. Michael and I exchanged a look but said not a a word so as not to alert her that we were paying attention, and when the song was done I asked, "Did you like that song, Margaret?" She grumpily retorted, "No! That song was annoying!" Weirdo.
After the party we went with J&L&Co. to Ri Ra, one of our favorite places. Every time I go there I think to myself, "I really want to take the kids to Ireland." I'd really like to take them to Scotland and Germany, too, to meet some far-flung relatives. Well in retrospect I guess we're the far-flung relatives, ha.
The kids were well behaved there, too, service was pretty slow but I had an excellent Irish Benedict that was a creamy, crispy, potato pancake topped with a rasher of thick bacon, poached egg, and Hollandaise. It came with a side of hash browns which were plain so I didn't eat them (two potatoes on one plate, ha) and half a tomato, grilled, which was pretty decent. Had some great coffee there, too. I don't often eat heavy breakfast food like that but it was after noontime and I hadn't had anything that day other than part of Margaret's cake that she didn't eat (and wasn't sitting too well in my stomach, bleurgh). We had a short walk back to the car that was nice, Michael was walking with Margaret on his shoulders and kidlet was holding my hand, talking a mile a minute about something mathematic (I forget what). We were passed by an older couple and the man said, "Good day, family!" It was very sweet. However my knee was letting me know that the stairs at TCM had made it very angry.
It sucks - just when I think my knee is completely healed and good to go I'll have a day where I do just a bit too much and it reminds me "Hey, asshole, there was a probe and a bunch of lights and shit all up in here just a few weeks ago." Overall, though, the pain I still get from time to time is nothing compared to what it was before and most days I don't even think about it now. On Friday I was sitting on the floor cleaning up the living room and rolled up onto my left knee like I usually do before standing up. Of course I didn't KNOW that this is what I usually do until I did it, and holy shit that hurt. Lesson learned.
In another week I have my second and last post-op follow-up with Dr. Awesome, I'm sure since I can pretty much dance a jig on the thing I'll get the green light and never have to go back again. Hooray! This week I'm having a tooth filled. Boo! The day after THAT I'm getting a pedicure. Whoopie! I need to fit in getting my car inspected and getting an estimate for general body work somewhere, too. Think, think.
When we got home Margaret was wiped out (she's been valiantly fighting off a cold and has been a bit wheezy on and off) so I took little Michael out to pick up pine cones from the side of the road. We walked across the street and down a bit to where there are a couple of hoary old pine trees that were dropping enormous cones and filled a shopping bag full, then I drove us down the hill and parked at the Dairy Queen so we could hit the grassy bit beside an auto body shop where there's a line of six or eight mature pines and got a ton more, all sizes. I wish I could have walked with him but my knee was already pretty mad and I didn't want to get down there and not be able to walk back up our considerable hill. We talked about pine pitch, and what the cones look like when they're on the tree, what happens to them in the process of drying and losing their seeds, and observed how younger pines generally have smaller cones. Every experience a learning opportunity, that's what I say. It was nice to hang out with my boy and do something mindless but fun. We came home with three large shopping bags overflowing and they smell awesome.
After dinner, I got the kids together and chopped up a bunch of old crayon pieces and had them help me fill a couple of (new, unused) silicon candy molds of hearts and dinosaurs. Then I put them in the oven and melted them down to make new crayons. I just checked on them out in the kitchen and they're more or less cool, they pop out of the mold very easily and look cute. I think they're going to love them. It'll be a great way to recycle old crayon stubs. The molds themselves are very nice, I wasn't sure what to expect when I ordered them online but now I might get one to make chocolates. We don't have chocolates around the house for ourselves, but it would be a nice, inexpensive gift option.
Poor Margaret, she's coughing on and off in the bedroom, I can hear her from here. I gave her a dose of saline spray in each nostril tonight to hopefully keep her passages moist and clear. I hate it when she gets sick.
Tonight I caught a blog entry by someone I read from time to time who just makes me shake my head in befuddlement. The only time they ever note me is in response to something I say when I finally just can't take it any more, so I know they don't read me at all or know a thing about me. Anyway they were commenting on the whole 99% movement and made the following comment:
"I heard an interesting statistic that, contrary to popular belief, the 1% are not people who make millions a year. The actual number is something like $334,000. 99% of Americans make less than that figure, so the 1% represent those that earn above that. A dual income household of professionals would have no problem breaking that barrier."
Interesting tidbit, first, but then the second part made me just...well, when I read that I laughed out loud, seriously, I just went HAW HAW and then sort of went "ahem". Because...really? It was the whole "dual income household of professionals would have no problem" thing that got me, I mean, not only does it sound pretenious as all get-out, but there are a lot of people working at professional jobs who don't make six figures, myself and my husband included.
I'm not working a trade or a craft, and I'm not a laborer, I'm an educated person who has a fairly specialized skill set. My husband even more so. We are a two-income household of (what I thought were) professionals, but hey, maybe computer programming is considered the kid whose parents buy store brand to the doctor and attorney kids who get Kellogg's Rice Krispies instead of Crisp Rice.
Unable to leave well enough alone, I left a couple of notes and got a couple of responses. (I privatized the ones I got, bitches, so no trolling for dramz.)
"'A dual income household of professionals would have no problem breaking that barrier.' What? Really?
*laughs* Oh, man, you are REALLY out of touch."
Okay, that wasn't the nicest thing I could have said, but I was still boggling over it.
Their response:
"ryn: I said "professional" couple. The average attorney or physician makes over $175k, a pharmacist $130k, etc. So a married pair of those easily hit those earned income numbers when you factor in bonuses, investment returns, etc."
My reply (which was not "Well la di frickin' DAH", or "130 + 130 = 260," neither of which would have been appropriate):
"So, by your definition, unless you make over $130k a year a career is not a profession. It's not at all impacted by geographic location, level of education, job saturation, or demand for skills.
Boy, oh, boy. I stand by my previous statement.
(Also, I highly doubt I'd be able to find a pharmacist around here who makes six figures, even at the compounding pharmacy.)"
After reading their last retort I decided to just let it be, because it was clear there was no point:
"ryn: There is a big difference between a career and a profession. It's not difficult to hit six figures with the right education, training and specialized knowledge."
o_O Really? Really?
I don't know a single person in my passel of friends and acquaintences who make $130k or more a year, not even the ones with Masters and Doctorate degrees. So I guess...none...of them...are professionals, even though they couldn't do what I do and I couldn't do what they do?
Oh wait, wait, I might know one person, the only one that I could even begin to think might bank that kind of paycheck would be the geneticist with a Doctorate who until recently was working in California. Even that I don't know for sure, but they seem the most likely candidate. Still, the rest of us - that's a lot of really fucking smart people, and I sure as hell don't have the balls to suggest to any of them that they aren't professionals.
So there. I've come to know a good number of (again, what I thought were) professionals here on OD, and a bunch of you are even programmer nerds like myself. Am I completely delusional? Do you all make six figures out there and I'm the one who is getting ripped off? Damn, I don't know. Here I've been going on the assumption this whole time that I've been pursuing a profession, when it looks like I've just had a series of jobs. Joke's on me, I guess. Maybe I need to sleep with more people so I can make as much as the menfolk with the same skill set.
Heh, I'm sorry, I'm still slightly gobsmacked over the whole thing. I guess I'll keep living my serf-y little life because at least I serve a purpose to someone should they need their lawn mowed.
I went and talked to my husband about it because he is by far the more level-headed of the two of us, utterly lacking histrionics. He doesn't get bothered by anything. After listening to me said, "The thing is, people like that don't think people like us are professionals. It doesn't mean they're right, it just means they exist in an entirely different circle than us, or most people, for that matter." He always has a way of condensing it down into a kernel of truth. That's why I married him :)
That aside, let's move on to something else, some pictures of what's doing around here lately.
- begin wholesome crafty pictures -
Before:
After:
Not too bad! Sure beats trying to pour it, which is what I was doing (unsuccessfully) before.
A very small portion of our haul today:
Happymerrylucky Springchristmaweenynewyears! Oh, and our thermometer is broken.
- end wholesome crafty pictures -
- begin family picture overload -
Yay, let's all pile into the office! The subject was inevitably cat videos.
Then, my son decided to start pulling faces.
This one...there's just so much going on in it, I love it.
The cats love the sherpa blanket I got (for ME). Louis is so totally crashed out.
Francis was crashed out nearby - it's contagious.
At the farm stand last week I found a really large carrot. Michael came home from school on Wednesday and I heard him exclaiming out in the dining room; when I went out to see what he was up to he held up the equally enormous papaya and said, "WHERE did you find all of these GIANT fruits and vegetables?!"
They were bigger than his head! He was very amused and insisted on photographic evidence.
(Ugh, those poor worn down little baby teeth, I can't wait until they fall out.)
He is such a ham. As you can tell both of my kids are very shy and timid.
Louis was like, "Thuh fuh?"
Oh, right - Japanese sweet potato. Also large.
Then he insisted on getting pictures balancing them on his head.
I know that looks aren't everything, but he is so handsome I could just die.
This about sums it up. I am so glad to have gotten a kid with a sense of humor.
(Yes, Joy, you may have a banana.)
Poor Francis. I feel so bad that he loves fleece blankets so much, it's clear he was taken from his mommy far too early. I just leave him to it and wash it later.
Cat nap.
Margaret, looking far too grown up for her own good. And my heart.
(She picked that outfit by herself, can you tell?)
- end family picture overload -
That's it, I am outta here.