Ugh. The Trib today published a column by Baltimore Sun writer Susan Reimer: Confusion Stops Young Women As They Try To Dress For Success (Nice hed, by the way. )

In the column, Reimer discusses taking her daughter Jessie shopping for clothes for the girl's first "real" job, and how frustrating it was. "You can imagine what Jessie thought of pin stripes and suit jackets," she says. (Actually, I can't.)

Reimer, meanwhile was "struck by the camisoles, the spaghetti-strap T's, the sheer blouses and the boat neck and v-neck sweaters." She was "struck by the revealing nature of so much of what is out there."

Maybe she needs to be "struck by" a dose of reality. Say, for example, Gregg Andrews (Nordstrom's fashion director), letting her know that "lace camisoles that are showing up under sweaters and suit jackets this spring are not a scandal. They are a layering piece. They are never meant to be worn without a jacket or a cardigan."

Andrews advises "young women [entering the workforce] need to present themselves in a very professional, polished way. They need to build a work wardrobe that is fashionable, feminine, but not overly sexy and not suggestive."

Tall order, eh? Oh, and do all that on the really teeny piece of discretionary budget you have left from your entry-level paycheck, Jessie.

HR Director for T. Rowe Price in Baltimore Melody Jones reminds Reimer to "read the culture of that particular workplace.... look at the women who have a position a couple of levels above you. Look at the woman who has the job you want. What is she wearing?"

Good advice in general, I'd say (although the peasant blouses and denim skirts that are so cute on my department's highest-ranking female would look really lousy on me). However, Jones blows it with this bon mot: "...the best piece of advice I could give a young person is, you always need to wear a jacket. It will give you the presence you don't have yet."

What? In a law firm, maybe. How sad that we need to pay to much attention to peer pressure to dictate how we look in the workplace (uniforms notwithstanding). We have a dress code that's outlined in our associate handbook here -- it's more a list of things not to do than a directive of what we should wear. (ie limits on visible piercings, etc.)

Personally, I'm a little conservative at work. I tend to wear black all the time, because I like it and it's flattering on me. Almost every pair of work pants I own is black; all that changes is the length and a bit of the style. Almost every pair of shoes I own are black, and pretty much all of my jewelry is conservative. However, I'm not too afraid to toss in a little something here and there -- a leaf-green dip-dyed sweater on Casual Friday, a cute pair of kitten-heeled mules with ivory stitching to add a little feminine punch to my all-black ensemble.

I see a lot of variance where I work, because I'm at the corporate headquarters for a retailer. The MIS folks are like MIS folks almost everywhere -- as casual, in general, as they can get away with. However, we have merchandising and design folks who obviously budget half their salaries for their Prada shoes and Armani pants. I'll admit that I pay a bit of unobtrusive attention to the women who head up the area where I most want to be, subtly taking mental notes so that my wardrobe could, in a pinch, mesh with their environment.

But, hey, I'm 34 and I've worked in several different kinds of places -- from banks and insurance companies to film studios to my own office. What's a girl to do? Beware of looking for advice online and in magazines, that's for sure. Cosmopolitan's "Six Perfect Work Outfits" include white pants and a distressed denim skirt worn, ostensibly, twice in one week (the horror!).  Meanwhile Ladies' Home Journal via MSN advises in "5 Office Dress-Don'ts" things that should be obvious ("Don't wear rubber flip-flops."). At least Marie-Claire has some decent advice in "10 Work-Wear Essentials."

The bottom line is probably finding that safety zone between what looks like you but still fits comfortably in your work arena. Save the studded bondage belts for home, 'kay?

Oh, my.

Key Words:
Earliest Commercial Tampon
Washable Pads
Sanitary Apron
Art of Menstruation (Warning -- it's really gross!)
Cats
Odor

P.S. If nothing else, skim down the list of euphemisms. I particularly like "I'm on the bus (Bleeding Uterus Syndrome)," "at war," "I'm punctuating," and of course, for you Brits, "I'm on a full stop."*

* I'm not. I'm always this cranky.

Insert standard warning to wimpy guys here.

["Malaguena," ISR]

Why do we blog? I get that a lot. I'm always surprised at the sheer number of people I encounter who have no idea what this "blogging" thing is all about, despite the numerous dopey articles in the NYT and others. We had a dinner party (really! so grown up!) on Saturday night, and one of the husbands was at a loss.

He: "What is a blog?"
Me: "Literally, a 'web log.' It's like a journal."
He: "But why would you write one? What would you write about?"
Me: (Ignoring his tense since I've already established that I write one and read several.) "Because I'm a frustrated would-be writer. Because it's fun. Because some people are really good writers but don't have books. A blog can be about anything... a diary, political opinion, gossip... anything."
He: "But why would anyone read it?"

That's a fairly good, if slightly obtuse question. Why does one read anything? Because we're bored. Because we like to escape. Because we're nosy.

I think a lot of the web community is about reaching out. It's a safe way to test the water and make sure it's the right temperature. Maybe you think you're a freak because you like to suck on a pacifier at age 57? I bet you'd find others on the web who do, too... and that can make you feel normal. You have a community of middle-aged pacifier suckers, so you feel better. You can find e-mail lists of people who share their stories and inside jokes about pacifiers and getting caught in traffic sucking your silicone g low-in-the-dark dumm y -- by your boss. You can find stores where you can buy pacifiers that look like more socially appropriate items.

Wow, did I get off on a tangent. Sorry. [ahem.] Anyway, where was I going with this? Not sure. Wendy McClure recently had an entry pointing out that NYT writer William Grimes complained about books like hers and Paula Kamen's. "Is there not something to be said for the unexamined life?" he asks.

What an asshole (who, as outed by Mykull, wrote a personal account about a chicken found in his NYC backyard). In my comment to Wendy, I wrote:
"I find it odd that any person who writes ANYTHING more than a shopping list should scold authors for writing. Obviously, writers are writing because they have something to say; interestingly enough, there are millions upon millions of people like me who gobble every read greedily. So tell Mr. Grimes to bite us. Even the poor delusional knife-wielding goth teens on tBlog have something to say."

So I guess my answer to myself (and to the husband), is right ^ up there. Writers write because they have something to say. Hopefully, some people are interested in reading it. G-d love you.

["Pineapple Head," Crowded House]

By now you probably heard that drummer Paul Hester committed suicide. My friend T e-mailed the AP article to me just an hour or so after I read about it. We saw Crowded House play in the early 90s; Sheryl Crow was their opening act. They tore the roof off the motherfucking place. After the concert, they appeared at a second-story bar on Belmont to sign autographs. T and I were so pantingly excited that we didn't even realize we were practically on top of the guys; they were larger than life on stage but certainly not so much in real life.

I think her words were something like "I could lick the top of Neil's head!" but I could be making that up.

The guys were incredibly sweet and we were goggle-eyed and giggly for, dunno, days afterward.

Rest in peace, Paul. I hope you're happier wherever you are then you were here on Earth.

["Distant Sun," Crowded House]

.... now offering absolutely free lessons in grammar to any and all interested bloggers. Today's lesson: The Paragraph.

"In typography, a paragraph is a block of text. Paragraphs are put on a new line and are usually indented, although not on many web sites, including Wikipedia. The paragraph symbol, the pilcrow, is ¶. In HTML, a new paragraph is created with the '<p>' tag, and the pilcrow symbol is ¶."

In literature, a detail is a small piece of information within a paragraph. A detail usually exists to support or explain a main idea.


All above info is stolen directly from the wonderful people at Wikipedia.

["Strange Transmissions," Peter Malick Group feat. Norah Jones]

Jacob was a veritable angel all weekend. He started to get really cranky last night around bedtime, and at one point I got fed up and told him "you're not allowed to talk to me right now."

At which he burst into tears. Oops. Just call me Dr. Mengele.

Ten minutes later, I was called back into their room. They were supposed to be sleeping, but Danny was overtired and couldn't settle down. Jake explained to me that Danny wanted his blue Boohbah, and could Jacob have his, too? I went on a Boohbah hunt, and presented them to each child.

"I'm not mad anymore, Mommy," Jacob said sweetly. And there go my stupid tears again. This child is killing me.

Oh. DH has been crafting responses to last week; to wit:

Q: Why did Jacob thow a chair?
A: Because the desk was too heavy.

Q: Why did Jacob throw a chair?
A: Because he left his gun at home.*

["New York City (DJ Strobe Brooklyn Mix)," Peter Malick Group feat. Norah Jones]

*No, we're not completely insensitive. Yes, we know about the horrible school shooting last week. For the easily offended, please understand that we're vocal anti-gun people; we don't let our kids play with war toys, even squirt guns. It's funny because he's five years old, people. If he was 15, we'd have him in a straitjacket by now.**

**I'm kidding, damn it. Lighten up. [g]

It was with much trepidation that I picked up the little hellion this afternoon, and asked a teacher how he did.

Jake had a fabulous day. Two stars for the first time in weeks. Apparently the taking-away-his-privilege s thing really hit home. He was apologetic to his teachers and well-behaved all day, even at naptime. He at least tasted everything at lunch -- even the vegetable.

Brent, one of the teachers, said to me "he's the comeback kid; the regular Jacob was here today."

I took the boys to get some groceries, and now they're playing quietly in the living room while dinner simmers on the stove. Jake just raced by my door and did a double-take, saying "I love you, Mommy!"

Tears sprang to my eyes (yes, I'm a sucker). "I love you too, Jakey," I said. He came into my room. "And tell Daddy I love him too." Then he ran back out for more Thomas the Tank Engine.

Days like this remind me that G-d is good.

I wrote this whole long post last night about my awful day and it disappeared. Why don't I remember to select all + copy before I click "Publish?"

Okay, Sunday the vacuum broke. DH took it apart and fixed it. The rugs still got shampooed, everything's fine.

Monday, the car went gaflooey. I didn't get stranded anywhere scary and the mechanic was able to fix it the same day. We had enough money to cover the repair (barely). Everything's fine.

Tuesday, I come home to find the apartment flooded with cat vomit. Not a great situation, as you all know. So we thought for a day or two we were going to be Scuzzless, and luckily he's getting better. We're going to be paying the vet bill for four months, but everything's going to be fine.

Yesterday, Jacob's teacher calls. He had a tantrum at school and hit her, and when two other teachers took him away to another room, he got so out of control that he picked up a chair and threw it at a teacher. My son -- my five-year-old son -- threw a fucking chair at someone. I got off the phone with the teacher, called DH, had my hysterics, called my mom, paged the child psychologist. Everyone agrees that this is a serious offense but an isolated incident as far as we can tell. Jake is not the easiest kid in the world, but he's very bright and affectionate and gets frustrated a little easily.

I brought the kids home from preschool and had a talk with Jacob over dinner since DH couldn't get home early. In the lowest, most serious but calmest voi ce possible, I stressed the following:

1. Hitting of any kind is unacceptable behavior.
2. Throwing a chair at anyone is absolutely wrong.
3. It's okay to be angry. It's not okay to hurt people, even if you're angry.
4. Saying sorry is important, but not as important as not repeating the thing you did wrong.
5. We love him all the time. We're extremely disappointed in his behavior, but we still love him and want to help him.
6. There would be no TV, no computer, no games, no stories. He was to eat dinner, brush his teeth, say his prayers and go to bed. Daddy and I would decide if he could do those things after school the next day, depending on his behavior.
7. TV, games, computers, etc are privileges that you get because you do what you're supposed to; ie put toys away, be nice, be polite.
8. Losing his privileges are a consequence of his behavior. If his behavior is better, he will regain privileges. He will need to start thinking of what he does having consequences.
9. If he continues to hit at school, they will not allow him to keep going there.

He turned to me at this last thing, shocked. "If I can't go to school, I won't learn anything!" He was appalled and horrified -- almost as upset as when I told him no TV, etc. After all that discussion, he finished eating, brushed his teeth and came to his room.

"Story?" Danny asked.
"No, honey," I replied. "No story tonight, because Jacob can't have one. We'll have story tomorrow night." At this, Jake started to get upset ("I never get to do anything!"), but I stayed calm and told him again that he was going to bed early, to get a good night's sleep and have a good day on Friday, and then we could have stories.

My boy bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, not quite looking at me. I could sense the gears turning in his head as he tried to decide whether to have a tantrum.

"Come here, Jake. Let's have a hug and kiss and go to sleep." At this, he started to cry a little -- just letting it all go, I guess. I settled them into bed, led them in the Shm'a and V'Ahavta, and put their lullabye CD on.

Then I crept out of the room and poured myself a big-ass drink.

["Walls Scream," Rex Daisy]

All women must go to Jen's and read this immediately. Men, stay away, for the love of G-d. If you know what's good for you, stay away.

Key words:
Unclean
Crotchular
Hammock
Stench
Arias

Good luck.

["Let the Juke Joint Jump," Koko Taylor]

Your kind thoughts and well wishes must have brought us luck. Dr. Berman just called and said Scuz's liver and kidney levels were okay. His licase enzymes are elevated, indicating (as suspected) possible pancreatitis. He's responding to anti-spasmodic meds so the vomiting and diarrhea have stopped, and he's being a gentle slut with the docs, purring and nuzzling everyone. They're going to do an abdominal x-ray because even pancreatitis doesn't really explain the blood coming from his bladder, but with any luck, he'll be home tonight. The doc thinks that the anti-spaz meds (can I get some?) combined with supplementary enzymes and/or vitamin shots to aid his digestion may do the trick.

Knowing how concerned Jacob was, I faxed a letter to him at preschool, asking one of his teachers to read it to him:

Dear Jacob:

I asked the teachers to give this note to you. Daddy and I know you were very worried about Scuzzy, so I wanted to let you know that I talked to the doctor this morning. Scuzzy is going to be fine. He is sick, but they are giving him medicine that is already helping him. He is getting lots of snuggles at the animal hospital and the doctor says he seems very happy.

The doctor is going to x-ray Scuzzy's tummy to make sure everything looks fine, and then they are probably going to let us take him home tonight. Even if they don't, he'll be home very soon -- the doctors are taking very good care of him and he's doing very well at the hospital. But most likely, you will see Scuzzy at home before you go to bed tonight.

So don't worry about our kitty - I'm sure he misses you but he's getting lots of love and attention, and when he comes home he'll feel SO much better. In the meantime, you have lots of fun at the Purim carnival today, and say hi to Queen Esther from me. Have a great two-star day, and I'll see you after school.

Love,
Mommy
XOXOXO


PS: Want to see the beasties? Go here and click on "SCSI & GUI."

I just sneezed so hard, I tasted chlorine from a fourth-grade swim meet. (They assigned me the butterfly portion of a relay, and I propelled myself into a wall and knocked myself unconscious.)

P.S. We lost.

1. What time did you get up this morning?
5:30 am. Snooze. 6:00 am. Snooze. 6:19 am. 

2. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds -- they're a girl's best friend, don'tcha know.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Shark Tale at the dollar theater with Jacob and my parents.

4. What is your favorite TV show?
I liked this season of The Surreal Life, sadly enough. Just saw Penn & Teller's Bullshit on Showtime and it rocked. Does that count?

5. What did you have for breakfast?
Two slices of cheese and some low-fat salami.

6. What is your middle name?
Elizabeth, named for my great-grandmother Ethel.

7. What is your favorite cuisine?
Italian

8. What foods do you dislike?
Yogurt. Brussels sprouts. Onions. Bananas. Cilantro. Curry.

9. What kind of car do you drive?
'93 Corolla.

10. Favorite sandwich?
A turkey bacon club can be a real thing of beauty, but I haven't had one in about three years, and won't be able to probably for another few years.

11. What characteristic do you despise?
Meanness.

12. Favorite item of clothing?
Long, slinky black pants. With everything. I also have a very strong affinity for medium-heeled boots.

13. If you could go anywhere in the world for a holiday, where would you go?
A white-sand beach.

14. What color is your bathroom?
A very soft blue. The same color as the kids' room. I love it.

15. Favorite brand of clothing?
I don't really have one. For suits, I prefer Jones New York. Once I've lost more weight, I'll come back to this question.

16. Where would you like to retire?
Someplace warm but close to my family.

17. Favorite time of the day?
8:00 pm

18. What was your most memorable birthday?
My 34th. I was prepping for my lap-band surgery the following day and had to go to work anyway. I hadn't had solid food in 9 days, and I was so weak and stupid I was completely useless. I stayed at my mom's for the night, but before I went to bed, DH showed up and brought me a cup of sugar-free Jell-O with a candle in it. Isn't that romantic?

19. Where were you born?
Cleveland.

20. Favorite sport to watch?
Basketball.

21. What are you wearing right now?
Faded black jeans and a red hoodie sweatshirt.

22. What star sign are you?
Gemini.

23. What fabric detergent do you use?
All Free & Clear.

24. Pepsi or Coke?
Coke. All the way!

25. Are you a morning person or a night owl?
Morning, only because I get tired really early.

26. What is your shoe size?
11.

27. Do you have any pets?
Two cats, SCSI and GUI. Scuz is a big fat tux cat who is diabetic and weighs 20 lbs. Gooey is a teeny grey tiger cat who only weighs 8 lbs. They were adopted as kittens six months apart.

28. Any new exciting news you'd like to share with your family and friends?
I'm pregnant with twins. No, just kidding.

29. What did you want to be when you were little?
A singer or a writer. Preferably both.

30. What will you be doing today?
Getting the car fixed. Walking a lot. Going to therapy if the car gets fixed in time. Getting stuff to make Jacob's Purim costume. Picking Jake up from preschool. Making dinner for the kids. Feeding said kids. Getting kids ready for bed and putting them down unless DH gets home first. Eating my own dinner. Reading. Going to sleep.

31. What is your favorite quality about yourself?
My resourcefulness.

32. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?
Breyer's Vanilla Fudge Twirl. I used to be addicted to Ben & Jerry's mixture of Cherry Garcia and Fudge Brownie, but they stopped making it. Bastards.

33. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
I need a new one. Any suggestions?

34. Best compliment you ever got:
My grandmother took all of the grandkids on a cruise the summer of '95. Everyone else had spending money, and almost everyone else was married. I was so bored. I ended up singing in the piano bar every night, and the ship's music director offered me a job.

35. Are you superstitious?
A little bit.

36. Favorite thing to cook/make?
I like cooking or baking almost anything that turns out well. It's very satisfying to provide sustenance for people.

37. Favorite quote:
Dunno. I'll have to come back to this one, too.

38. Favorite movie:
Grosse Point Blank, Pirates of the Caribbean.

39. Favorite book:
Pearl or The Book of Rueben, by Tabitha King. Faking It, by Jennifer Cruisie. Princess Bride by William Goldman.

40. Hardest lesson ever learned:
Life is just not like the movies.

41. Something you would recommend to everyone to do at least once:
Fall in love.

Read that in the voice of Dr. Smith, by the way.

My brain, what's left of it, is doing its best to escape my skull using little mallets and axes. Seriously. I can feel it pulsing with evil right now. How I managed to drag my sorry ass to work is beyond me; I don't even remember driving here. Good sign? What do you think?

It's usually a migraine but since it's not limited to one side of my beaten head I'm guessing this is a combination of my chronic + acute sinusitis (has anyone ever told you your sinuses were cute?) with the added bonus of putting in nine-hour days at my work PC. My eyes are like little old construction workers... they're too butch to admit when they just can't do the job until they manage to hurt themselves doing it.

So I'm on Serevent, Singulair, 2,000 mg daily of antibiotics (for a whole month! Imagine the joy of continual residual yeast and bladder infections!), and I have to go see an ENT so I can spend the higher specialist copay for another doctor to tell me "yep, your sinuses are a train wreck." They've been so infected that they're messing with my ears, throat, and eyes. Oh, and they're why I keep coughing hard enough for DH to pass me his asthma inhaler and tell me to pop a Benadryl or three.

The pain starts between my eyes, reaches up my forehead, and wraps around the back of my melon to strangle my neck. What I could really use would be a nice massage. Instead, I think I'll put some Norah Jones on my headphones and settle down to read through some XML files. Now, that's relaxing!

I run Hijack This! every morning. Ad-Aware. CWS Shredder. Supposedly, I have anti-virus stuff on here. My system at home is clean. But at work, I am consistently bombarded with pop-ups and search hijack motherfucking bastards and I need to vent.

Goddamn motherfucking sons of bitches! Get gone from my frigging browser and let me do my goddamned work! I'm actually TRYING to get my testing done! But NOOOOOO, you can't just leave me the fuck alone and stay out of my business. You have to be such a fucking nuisance that I spend an hour a day (okay, I'm exaggerating) trying to close your fucking windows and running anti-spyware stuff and checking with MajorGeeks and analyzing impossible-to-read filenames. Fucking hell shit-assed nincompoops, don't you have anything better to hack? I actually get PAID to do this shit, but I won't if I can't get through a few decent passes of the test plans and I still have PAGES AND PAGES to do.

So begone, spawn of Satan browser hijack motherfucking assjockeys. I have no time for you.

["Got To Be Real," Mary J. Blige]

Okay, I stole that subject name from.... shit. Must be Suburban Bliss. Anyway, I'm doing a moms-and-kids-only tea party for some of my friends next month, and want to start planning the menu now, because... well, Trekguy probably said it best. I'm riduculously anal-retentive (and I love planning parties).

So, for the kids, I think I'll have chicken strips or nuggets and smiley-face fries. Various dips and chips (hummus, salsa, hot artichoke dip). Then some stuffed mini-mushrooms and nibbly desserts. To drink? Variations on vodka-with-a-splash-of-so mething. Lemonade for the kiddies in those awesome almost-disposable sippy cups.

Anyway, I'm always happy to get appetizer recipes, so lay 'em on me, Avoid the nuts. Thanks, bud!

DH and I shuffled off to Kingsley Elementary last night, to a kindergarten orientation night. That's right, I'm going to have a kid in elementary school. Less than six months from now, my firstborn will drink the water and become the system.

This is a big step for our little family, and we're sort of terrified and in flux. Each step in our kids' development raises all kinds of issues, and DH and I have all these decisions to make (decisions again!) that could mold our kids. Part of the problem is, our differening outlooks make it doubly hard to figure out what to do.

Here's the thing. We live in a big city. We like the city. It's an amazing place to live, especially without kids. With very small kids, it's still amazing. There's lots to do, tons of places to live, easy ways to get around. We've been extremely lucky with childcare -- we've had the same nanny since Jacob was five weeks old. We're mostly pleased with preschool.

Staying in the city isn't much of an option for us. The Chicago public school system is notably flawed, and most neighborhood schools are so lousy, and the population is not one we necessarily want our kids to be a part of. Then you have private schools. Insanely expensive, exclusive and really hard to get into. Add to those the frighteningly spoiled brats your kid would be hanging around if you had the scratch and could get in... not a great equation. There are magnet schools in the CPS, but they're lottery-based and a total headache.

A correllary to private school is religious school. I was raised a Reform Jew, and would probably call my self a Conservative/Traditional based on theory and service style, but I'm not very observant at this point. I don't keep Kosher, don't feel a need to, and don't feel guilty not observing Shabbat. I really like the memories I have of Sunday School when I was a kid; our temple (Fairmount in Cleveland) was a warm, friendly place I definitely felt comfortable. I guess I'm a cultural Jew.

DH has much stronger views on Judaism than I. In his early 20s, he became a Lubavitch Jew, and observed very seriously for several years. While he had a really nice group of people who became like family to him (and in fact, his rabbi married us and was present at Jacob's bris), he eventually became unhappy enough for his own reasons to shave his beard and sort of take a step back. Now, I guess he'd be considered maybe Modern Orthodox. He doesn't wear a beard, but he doesn't eat treyf, and prefers much more Torah-observant services when he goes to them. Jewish holidays seem very bittersweet to him; I think it's incredibly hard for him to find a comfort zone, since he was raised Reform but Lubavitch made such a strong impression on him. He's a passionate guy in many ways, and I think the laws of Torah both guide and sometimes weigh on him.

Anyway, this long digression into my vision of DH's psyche (sorry, honey) is my way of getting to a difficult point for us; the possibility of sending our kids to a Jewish day school. The problems I have are:

1. Private school is ridiculously expensive, and we are not wealthy people.
2. Even if scholarships made it possible, I feel very uncomfortable being in a financially penitent position.
3. I don't want our kids to only be around wealthier families.
4. I went to private school until I was 14, and I was miserable. I got an amazing education (read the Odyssey when I was 11, for G-d's sake!) but the small, insular environment was torture for a kid who didn't fit in.
5. I have no plans to keep a Kosher home or bentch (pray) after meals, which are two things common in our area day schools.
6. I feel it would be hypocritical to educate our children in a manner I can't feel comfortable mimicking at home.

Personally, I don't see anything wrong with -- in fact I prefer -- sending our kids to a decent public school, and sending them to religious school on a Saturday or Sunday morning through the school year. I feel it would give them the ability to live in two worlds -- the secular and the Jewish -- and let them eventually make a decision on how observant they want to be on their own. Yes, I would like them to receive religious instruction. Yes, I would like them to be Bar Mitzvah'ed, and will in fact insist upon it barring any unforseen circumstances. Yes, I would be very pleased if they continue their religious education after that point.

Why do I feel so strongly about public school? I have a hard time figuring this out. I guess because it's so hard for me to feel like I fit in anywhere, I want my kids to have starts as just regular kids. When I was young and miserable in prep school, Sunday School was kind of a refuge of sorts -- I had friends there, I mostly enjoyed the studies and even the services with Rabbi Eisenberg, and nobody there had to know I was a geek at Hawken from Monday through Friday. It was my first time being JT, really; the first time I could try to be someone other than how I was pigeonholed at prep school.

So, am I being selfish in wanting to create my vision of idyllic childhood for my kids? Maybe. I have such a hard time conceding the point of day school to DH because I just don't believe in it. I also really love the idea of a neighborhood school; the school's boundaries from last night are less than three miles square. That means if Jake and Danny went to school there, they'd have multiple friends (ideally) who live within walking distance. Their social circle would be imminently accessible. They'd be building their own little community; be the little gang of the blocks. In this day and age of ultra-heightened security and fear, I relish the thought of literally letting my boy ride his bike two blocks over to play someday.

There's no conclusion to this post, because I still don't really know what we're going to do. Add to this fogginess that the school district we're looking at has two magnet school information nights (tonight and tomorrow), and we're going to try to go to both. Then, add DH's suggestion that the community I really would like to live in shouldn't be the only one we consider. (Which is sensible but for some reason, I feel totally in tune with the one we're looking at now.) Then, add in the fact that I only got five hours of sleep last night. Does all that add up to a sensible post with a beginning, middle and end? I guess not.

Crap.

Sound effects: Beautiful Soul, Jesse McCartney

Mimi Smartypants reminds me that my children have entered the terrifying realm of Mommy Let Me Tell You A Joke I Made Up. The MLMTYAJIMU is just awe-inspiring in how much it can fuck with my head. Here's the premise:

Jacob, in his little rocket booster seat: "Mommy, knock knock!"
Me, from the front, trying to drive: "Who's there?"
J: "Salami!"
Me: "Salami who?"
J: "Salami airplane!" (explodes into laughter)
Me:

Which of the following responses to Jacob's non-joke is the right one?
A. (laugh my head off)
B. "Have you heard the one about the Pope and Raquel Welch in a lifeboat?"
C. "Jacob, that's not funny. The dictionary defines 'joke' as 'Something said or done to evoke laughter or amusement, especially an amusing story with a punch line.' You can do better than that."
D. "I don't get it. You must be smarter and funnier than Mommy."

Correct answer? None of the above. Here's why:
A. Instills false sense of confidence, spoiling him rotten.
B. So freakin' inappropriate, and it's a really old joke.
C. Eww. Just re-reading it gives me a headache.
D. Just as gross as C and as wrong as B.

DH has responded by helping the kids create jokes. This one has been making the rounds of Jacob's preschool:

Q: Knock Knock!
A: Who's there?
Q: I made up
A: I made up who?
Q: Ewwww! You made a poo?

I spend most of my Mondays in meetings now. We drill down, summing up the previous meeting's results for the following meeting, and so on until we all want to kill ourselves. By the second or third meeting, I'm making lists on my notepad (doodling is too obvious a distraction; lists look like you're taking notes).

Today's Lists:
Page One: All the calculations for how much it would cost to buy my favorite sectional while the employee appreciation sale is going on, versus the rest of the year.

Page Two: Stuff going on this weekend... Noah's birthday party on Saturday, the Housewares show and Molly's birthday on Sunday.
Money stuff to think about:
1. Getting both kids to the dentist for their long-overdue checkups.
2. Getting me to the dentist for my waaaay long-overdue checkup ($260), and replacement of my really old and broken Maryland bridge with a dental implant ($1,500. Yes, you read that right).
3. Checkup with the doc who keeps me in don't-kill-the-guy-who-cu t-me-off-in-traffic  medicine.
4. Checkup with the doc who keeps my endometriosis from eating up all of my internal organs.
5. Moving this summer (assuming $1500 for movers and moving expenses, plus G-d knows how much for 1st month's rent and security deposit).
6. Summer camp for Jacob (probably $1600 all told).

Page Three: Stuff I can project is going to happen every month until I get depressed thinking about it:
March: two birthdays (one kid, one adult), dinner party on the 26th, Purim, kids' class pictures
April: Nanny's birthday, taxes, Passover
May: DH's and my big birthdays and possible combination party, Mother's Day
June: Vacation with my mom, DH's and my 9th anniversary, Father's Day, last day of preschool for both kids.
July: Move? Mom's birthday. Jacob to camp?
August: Jacob starts school. Danny's 3rd birthday (shit).
September: Mom & Dad's 39th anniversary. High holidays?

Page Four: Yes, there is a fucking page four. Do you see how neurotic I am? I literally planned the major points of every day this work week, including possible workouts, when I pick the kids up, the kindergarten orientation Tuesday, the Gilda's Club fundraiser Wednesday, going to Jenni's Friday night....

Either I need to seriously retool my life, or stop going to these ridiculous meetings. I think the latter will be much easier to do than the former. 

Sound effects: Oye Como Va, Tito Puente (live)