What's Going On?

Funny you should ask. This is actually one of the few Marvin Gaye/Al Green/Janis Joplin songs the aspiring drummer who lives behind our house has not yet massacred with his double kick drum (or whatever it's called- I'm not down with the lingo). His new urge to practice has driven us inside on more than one occasion. It's not that bad when he sticks to whatever it is he's usually playing- but there's just no place in "Let's Get it On" for the double kick.

Wren and I are sitting across the table from each other. She just finished a cup full of apple-flavored Yo-Baby and is now working on spreading a pile of cheerios in as wide a circumference around the highchair as possible. Ramona is helping with the clean-up. Wren's a little peeved that she doesn't have all my attention but I think she'll get over it.

She has a tooth now- so tiny and pearly- on the bottom in the middle. It's pretty cute but I'd like it more if it (and all it's little sub-gum friends) didn't keep us up all night. Wren's new accomplishments, besides sprouting teeth, are clapping, dancing to music, laughing at jokes (which is just whenever she sees you laugh) shaking her head no, standing unsupported for long periods of time, and eating finger-foods (instead of just smashing them into her hair).

She also started responding to Ramona's whinning with this high-pitched squeaking call. She'll hear Ramona whine at the door and turn her head to squeal- "gwee gwee gwee". It feels in my ears like I really shouldn't be able to hear it- just on the absolute upper limit. Wren's delighted about it- she thinks she's talking to Ramona. When we ask her what a dog says I'm sure she'll say "gwee gwee." They'll be no end to the mockery in nursery school. Meanwhile Lazlo and I have our own response to Ramona's whine: "If you don't be quiet I'm going to kick you in the face/kill you with my bare hands/set you free on I-10..." you get the idea. We try to be inventive. We're not really awful people. I don't raise my voice, so she thinks I'm just paying attention to her. It's just that the constant grating whine (along with eating my panties) is Ramona's way of letting us know she's unhappy that we have a child and don't take her to the park more often. Ever since watching "Dissing your Dog" by Will Ferrel, I've found it helps me vent some spleen.

Well Lazlo is busy with work and school, of course. And I've been working on submitting an application to grad school. It's a hassle to get all the stuff together, and I still need to write my statement of purpose. Also I need to find one more recommender. I loved going to UT but it sure wasn't the best place to form long-term recommender/recommendee relationships with professors. I just took whatever classes looked interesting that semester- they were all so specific. I don't have any basic, sweeping survey classes and I certainly never took the same professor twice.

So of course having all this stuff to do has inspired me to get busy with my procrastination. I've been researching the Golden Age of British Detective fiction and it's been really interesting. I -love- these novels and I encourage all of you to check them out. There was actually a club they were all in- Christie, Marsh, Sayers, Chesterson. They made rules that there could be no "untraceable poisons" no "mysterious Orientals" (?) and "at most one secret passage." Also the books had to have a puzzle plot; that is, they had to be laid out in a way that it would be possible to figure out who did it. They're like great crossword puzzles with lots of narrative and characterization.