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Getting my butt in gear

The deadline for submissions for the annual KaKaLaK Anthology of Carolina Poets is sneaking up on me. Entries are due on Wednesday, and I still don’t have them together, let alone turned in. So I’m sorta working on that tonight. It’s kinda depressing, taking inventory of what worthwhile pieces I’ve written since last year. I’ve got a handful I’m happy with, but they all read the same. I mean, for the most part they’re all confessional mommy pieces. Squishy Hallmark fuzzy (but not cute or quaint, I hope), but still… . But then, that’s the sort that they’ve accepted of mine the past 2 years, so maybe it’s the way to go. The only piece I’m considering that’s an exception to that theme is one based on a dream and written in the vein of Denise Duhamel‘s “Sex with a Famous Poet.” Except nowhere near as entertaining. And I’m not entirely sure I’d be ready for having my “Frenching a Famous Pop-Musician” in print. But I’ll probably submit it anyhow: if the editors &/or judge thinks it’s print worthy, it’s time for me to get over it & myself.

I’ll be able to pull together a reasonable poetry submission. Nothing, though, that I feel will qualify for a prize, unfortunately. But maybe something worth printing. The tough part comes in with the art entry I wanted to send in. I really have nothing but unimplemented ideas. Which stinks. Especially since I feel like I would have a chance if I’d send something.

Oh well. I’ll kick myself if I don’t get art together, but between work & clutter, I’m not sure how that can happen.

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Another Runny Ear Day

Our almost-1-and-a-half-year-old had been plagued with ear infections — or at least one persistent one. After fighting the last infection for about 2½ months, we finally got to an ENT who determined tubes would be a good idea. So, just before Christmas, out little one got his first set. All went well, save for the 30 minute tantrum he threw while & after waking up from the anesthesia. (That was remedied with a banana, bread, cheese, and a 4-hour nap.)

Since then, things have been going well. Then a couple days ago, he picked up a cold. His nose started running. And then, his ears.

Gross.

I mean, it’s bad enough having to wipe a goopy nose all day, but it’s 200% worse when you have 2 oozy ears to worry about too. But apparently that means the tubes are doing their trick. Because otherwise that green goo would be stuck in his ears. And surely we wouldn’t want that.

That doesn’t keep me from feeling the urge to puke every time I see a fresh batch of ear snot begging to be wiped from his ear canal.

Tack on the fact that the kid HATES having it done… and we get a grumpy kid.

Colds suck.

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Jason Who?

Last night the hubby and I had an opportunity for a brief date night out. We dropped the kids off at a friend’s and went up the road for dinner at TGI Friday’s. So we’re sitting at the table, drinking our drinks (his a mojito, mine a root beer — I felt a cold coming on, and alcohol never helps when I’m sick) , catching up on the day, when I notice a piece of “wall flair.” One of the posters on the wall was of The Who. I did a double take and grew a stupid grin: in that shot, Roger Daltrey looked an awful lot like Jason Mraz.

So I came home and wasted time I should have been spending working on a couple freelance projects to google that poster and have another look. In the process, I found that, wow, yes, Mr. A-Z and Mr. Daltrey of yester-year could be dopplegangers.

See for yourself: three pictures here are of Daltrey, and three are of Mraz. I’m sure the discerning Mraz fans won’t have any trouble, but still, it’s interesting to see the similarities.

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In the Bank

Generally, I’m a tightwad.

But that’s just a rule of thumb. (If it was gospel for me, I wouldn’t have racked up so much credit card debt in college. Or, maybe it’s because of that debt that I’m so anally thrifty now.) While I’m an active coupon clipper, sale watcher, and Freecycler, I’m also likely to give (time, money, food, stuff), sometimes more than I can really afford.

Last night the reflex caught me off guard.

I had just finished filling up my thirsty granny-mobile when a girl pulled up and, as I was getting back into the car, asked — fairly desperately — for some help. She preceded it with, “This isn’t something I’d normally do,” before asking, “but I need some money for gas — can you help?” She was apparently running on fumes from out of town and still needed to get to her friend’s house, several miles away. She had $1.50, which might have gotten her there. I didn’t have any cash on me. But as almost a knee-jerk reaction, I told her if she’d give me the $1.50, I’d let her charge $5 to my card. She thanked me profusely, God-blessed me, and thanked me again. And we talked a minute more while she pumped. We both failed to notice before the ticker passed $5. But that was strangely OK. And right.

So was the hug I gave her as I left her at the pump.

It was weird.

I didn’t do it for the karma, but it’s nice to know I have it in the bank.

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Sweet Son Eating Sauerkraut!

Growing up in Pennsylvania in a part German family, I have always eaten pork & sauerkraut on New Year’s Day1. I don’t remember when I started to like the sauerkraut end of it, but I remember having to eat “just a bite” to ensure good luck for the new year. It was never open for discussion. Not eating the stuff was enough to obligate the shameful German-Catholic to go to Confession. Really.

Fast forward to 2004, the first New Year’s Day after my husband and I were married. Since he didn’t have any family New Year traditions, I figured the door was wide open for me to carry on mine. I prepared the pork roast to perfection, and served it with sauerkraut. I knew he didn’t like sauerkraut, but I wasn’t going to have that stand in the way of a lucky new year2. So I encouraged him to just eat a tiny bite. He didn’t want to, but I basically begged him to humor me. He took the bite… and dashed to the bathroom to throw up. Personally, I thought he was being a little melodramatic. And I was disappointed. Apparently, this tradition was going to be one left unshared.

In the following years, I continued to prepare the traditional meal, but never again did I make him eat the sauerkraut. I have been disappointed that I haven’t had someone to share the tradition with.

That is, until last night. As I was preparing dinner, our 1½-year-old started to whine for a bite of it. I gave him a strand, sure he’d spit it back out. Instead, he took to the stuff like it was candy and ate at least a tablespoon with his dinner!

My year has been made already!

1 Eating pork & sauerkraut on New Year’s Day for good luck in the coming year is a German/Pennsylvania Dutch tradition.
2 Actually, I’m not superstitious, but where we have a tradition, I cling to it for dear life.