Hello, world

Weren’t those the first words spoken on the Internet or something like that?

That’s very cool. I would have liked working with that guy. Not: “The interface has integrated with the development environment.” Just plain and simple hello, world. That’s my kind of sentence.

I mention it because I’d like to announce I’ve spent a week out of bed and in the den with the regular folk who live here. The ones who wake up in the morning, get dressed, have breakfast and plop themselves in front of a TV or laptop screen. Twice, I’ve joined my teenage power stroller for her six-mile trek around the block, and I will take her up on her suggestion that when I buy her and her brother bikes during bike camp, I should get one as well. Did you know that bike helmets come in infant/toddler sizes? There is no excuse for the four of us not to ride around the park together, me burning off the last of this baby belly fat.

My brother is a little panicky at my taking this thing people call a vacation before I start looking for another job. To him, being fired on a Friday means being employed again by Monday. My brother loves to work. He’s naturally commited to the process. I fantasize about getting out of bed more than four days a week. There is a bit of a disconnect.

My stepmother is calling for our laundry again. I wonder which of us may have shown up at her house looking a little vagabond-y. She was letting us have at it for a while there. You know, doing what humans do which is their own laundry, but I do not iron and have no idea where the iron could be. I buy clothes that are wash, dry, put on. Wrinkles are like the little knots in your solid wood furniture that prove character and authenticity. Until they are spotted by my stepmother. I am to deliver our laundry baskets to her by Friday. Heh.

The white chocolate chip cookies turned out well. I did end up baking them with the kids as you knew I would. In the middle of the recipe, I discovered the need for a beater. Beater, hmmmm, beater. A beater. Did we have one? Was it hiding somewhere next to the iron? Found it in the pantry, all of its implements carefully wrapped in the original plastic, which let me know it was a Q purchase and had been used last by Q. I unwrapped it and laughed to myself how undomestic I really am, but I never claimed to be domestic so it’s really not my job to pretend to be otherwise. Being on the defensive about it is one of my hobbies.

Jordan gets her braces off on Tuesday. I’ve lost track of how long she’s been wearing them. I think January 2007, right before I met Q. So what’s that? Where is my days until/after calculator? More than 2 1/2 years. Wow. She was not the most cooperative patient, so I’m thinking Dr. Gunn is removing them so he never has to see her again. He’s nearly 80 and has no more incentive to fuck around with non-brushing, non-rubberband-wearing teenagers. Which suits Jordan just fine.

Jon Alex went to his very first outdoorsman/hunting/gun show today with his BFF and the boy’s parents. Next up: monster truck rally. Hello, Texas.