weapons of massdistraction

The little man just tried to hand me a dead box elder bug that had, inexplicably, made its way into his pants pocket. I’d like to report that I took the parental high road, turning the moment into an educational experience for us both, but I can’t. No, I screamed like a girl and ran. I got a good case of the heebie jeebies while the husband was left behind to calm the poor lad down…by telling him “mommy doesn’t like bugs”. No, no she doesn’t. Especially not in my son’s trousers. In mixed bag news, I did hear back yesterday from the school district. The little man will soon be starting a halfday special ed pre-school program. It actually sounds like a good fit, and the teacher to student ratio is amazing. Nine children, three adults. Not too shabby. If all goes well with the speech therapy and whatnot, as I’ve been told it will, he’ll be able to attend a regular kindergarten. That’s a relief. The stressful part is that he’ll be riding a school bus to and from his class. I’ve been assured that he’ll be riding the bus only with other pre-schoolers (ugh, my boy will be riding the short bus), and an adult aide who will assist. But I hadn’t thought we’d be dealing with this just yet. I’m sure he’ll love it. He’s always pointing out school and city buses, and talking about wanting to ride them. So for him it will be a great new adventure. For me it’s an overprotective mother’s worst nightmare, being forced to relinquish too much control over my child’s safety. Normally I’d chide myself for being paranoid, but today I came across a local news headline “Kindergartner hit by school bus, driver arrested” that only adds fuel to the fire.

When the going gets tough, the tough go to the movies. It’s hard to believe we’re so behind the times, though. I saw the first two films on their opening days, but the husband and I waited for The Matrix Revolutions to hit the second run theaters. I’m glad I remained unspoiled beforehand, and entered the theater with lowered expectations. I was in for a few surprises. The biggest…I’d hoped the Wachowski Brothers would do more crossing of their t’s and dotting of their i’s in this “final” installment. Instead they left me confused, and themselves open for a sequel. I guess closure costs more than a dollar. So now I’m half-expecting two more rounds of trilogies, Star Wars-style…out of sequence and progressively more disappointing.

Time for some frivolous fashion reporting. This morning Allison Woo tipped me off that the Golden Globes happened last night. Like her I was happy to hear the good news about RoTK. But I just lost part of my life that I’ll never get back…after being sucked into imdb’s red carpet gallery. Overwhelmingly my main thoughts were Who are these people? Why are their dresses so dreadful? and Why do they have such bad bad hair? Most must be teevee folks, but after looking some up I wasn’t any more enlightened. And many of the better known celebrities just looked exhausted and old, despite their spendy longevity treatments. For some celebrity specific observations:

• Molly Sims, whoever she is, looks like Vanna White.
• Gwen Stefani appeared alien-like with her eggshaped updo.
• Elijah looked more like an elf than a hobbit.
• Carson Kressley came off creepy and greasy looking.
• And, sorry folks, I adore Scarlet Johannson just as much as you do…but she looked just plain strange last night. So there.

Now for happier news. Despite his lingering cough and cold, the little man has been safely landing Flight 0126…over and over again. The Playmobil toys never seem to lose their appeal. No complaints here.

As I’ve mentioned, our lives have been jam-packed with minor irritations lately. Taken individually each incident would be no big deal, but the cumulative effect is incalcuable. Amidst all the frustrating, though, there is still the funny. Like last night, for instance. After one of his overnight shifts, the husband stopped by a 24-hour supermarket. At 4am he had an urge to pick up some cheap OJ and ramen noodles. But at the checkout the cashier informed him his check card had been denied (later he called his bank, who, it turned out, had just been experiencing computer problems). He wasn’t too upset as a) he had enough cash to cover some of the goods and b) he was still amused by something he had seen on his way through the store, in the produce aisle. A man, with a female companion, had taken some plastic bags, you know, the kind you pull of the roll to put produce in. He had tied one of them around the top of his head…leaving another twenty or so to follow behind him, like the train of some absurd wedding veil. Other store patrons attempted to surreptitiously check this guy out (the husband included). But not a one said a word about it, to him or each other. What a beautiful thing. It’s at times like these that I wish the husband had a cameraphone. Not that he would use it.
Bonus: Speaking of beautiful things…Buffmonster’s work is on display at the Ox-Op Gallery, but only through January 31st.
Plus: Turns out the fabulous Stephen Fry is a last-minute addition to the cast of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and will be giving voice to the role of The Guide. That makes me want to see it that much more. On opening day I am so there.

Finding myself in the grips of another bout of wanderlust…which will go unfulfilled, I’m sure. This time I have Neil Gaiman to blame.

He pointed out a few of his favorite places in London, including the gloriously gothic looking St. Pancras Station. Several years back I had a week to wander around London on my own, which was lovely, but I think I’m due for a return trip. Sure, there are other destinations I haven’t been to that I would like to visit, but I’m in the mood for a place that is somewhat familiar…but with much still unseen. Plus London happens to be a vegan paradise. Sadly we are seriously broke, so all I can do is amuse myself by planning an imaginary trip. We’d go in May, the weekend of the Covent Garden May Fayre and Puppet Festival. The little man would no doubt enjoy that. I even found us a reasonably priced little B&B. You’d think with an imaginary trip I’d shoot for something a little more upscale, but it isn’t in my nature. Besides, the well-reviewed Jesmond Dene Hotel isn’t far from The British Museum or the Camden Town area, two places I didn’t make it to last time. I have a whole list of stops in my head, but I’d be content to wander around just a little and take it easy with the little man. I’m totally itching to take the lad on his first airplane ride (even with the further encroachment of our privacy rights). Alas, I doubt it will be happening any time soon. But a girl can dream, right?