The problem with a vegetarian, I realized, as I was running this morning and listening to that song that goes, "Tell your boyfriend, if he's got beef, that I'm a vegetarian and I'm not fucking scared of him," (what a good line!) is that they probably have too many principles to work in our house, where such strongly held opinions -- I don't eat meat, I'm acting the change I want to see in the world, I believe marriage is a Holy Sacrament between a man and woman who, by the way, of course should change her name -- would really just get in the way.
In fact, I do not know any vegetarians who oppose gay marriage.
Let's see, Candidate 4.0: Austrian. Lives on a farm with ruminants, which she happily eats. Hopes to become a social worker. Plays volleyball. (Aha! I played volleyball 22 years ago!!! And I had a wicked serve!)
Lovely! Enough neurotic analysis. Let's just say yes, shall we? and get on with it already. (And that, my friends, is exactly how I approached marriage six years ago. Well, more or less. No, no, not at all, honey!!! You know this blog is full of lies!!)
Ruminants, for those of you who know nothing about the creatures that you turn into tacos, are animals with multiple stomachs. Like cows. Or sheep. They could also be defined by their dim wit.
What else? The kiddos are good. Josephine is peeing and pooping on the potty quite regularly! Margaret has no NO interest in it, thank you, but noooooo. buhbye. Josephine also likes to look in Margaret's diaper, while I'm changing it -- "Poopy? I wanna see!" Which outrages Margaret's sensibilities -- "Noooo, Joshie!" and she gives an angry one-handed wave around her nether-regions. "Ooooh, daddy poopy! Yucky!" Josephine shouts. "NO!" outraged Margaret shouts back.
What? Daddy poopy? I have no idea...
Josephine has a new game too -- in the morning, she crawls under our sheets (oh sheets, can you please change yourselves??) and then WOOF WOOF! "Oh no! Is there a doggie in the bed??" Giggle giggle. "WOOF! WOOF!" And then she comes bounding out, looking a little like a Bichon with curls in her eyes, giggling madly. For her part, Margaret has less energy in the early morning. She likes to cuddle in my armpit, blanket pulled up to her chin like a big girl.
Margaret really wants to sleep in Lucy's bed. With her. I am toying with the idea of getting a twin over double bunk bed for the babies' room, so that all the girls can sleep together. Trouble?? Hm.
Cell phone: Missing, but back!
Running: Not bad. Twentieth-year high school reunion providing some incentive. Plus new Sean Kingston song.
Rats: Holes filled! Undisturbed! Could it be??
Naughty children alert: Held my tongue at the playground last weekend when a little ninja boy started waving his arms and jumping around the sand pit. (Oh no! Sand pits! New study by alarmist researchers shows they have 5,400 germs per square inch!!) "Those are mine! All mine!" he says, pointing frantically to the SEVEN bulldozers within reach. And then: "I am a mean guy!" he shouts.
Weekend trips: Photos to come!!