Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Only Partially Regarding Potatoes

October at my house means three things this year.

1. I lose my mind and make thirty thousand pirate outfits for kids and hawk them online like a twitchy artist guy hawking five dollar t-shirts outside a Britney Spears impersonator contest. This is what happens to interesting, creative people who used to have their shit together, and have been totally side-tracked by things. Like meth. Or stripper girlfriends. Or families.

(You get that I'm the one with the family, and the artist guy is with the meth and the strippers, right? Cause that's what I meant.)

This also means that I harass my kid into modeling pirate outfits until she runs shrieking from me whenever I come at her with a handful of eye patches and stripy fabric. Note the complete and utter boredom-tude. Surely Top Model material. Is she smizing? Or just rolling her eyes? I can't tell, Tyra.

2. In PA, it rains a lot in October. And then the spiders come. They come up from the basement, through the cracks in the floor. They sneak in around the leaky old door jambs and invade the windows from which we (still) haven't moved the air conditioners. They come seeking warmth, fleeing their lairs in the sodden earth. Giant, land-roving wolf spiders with furry bodies and fangs. From beneath you, they devour.

A week or two ago (probably more like a month), I dumped our four buckets of blocks into the tub in our laundry room to give them a good soak in bleach. Then I procrastinated about getting them out to dry, because that seemed like it would be a pain in the ass.

The other day, I noticed this fella just chillin in there. I have explained to Wendy that demon spiders have now crawled up through the drain and infested her blocks, and sadly, we can't play with them until Spring banishes them back to whatever hell they came from. She totally understands.

She is also probably totally scarred for life.

Like when my mom thought it would be cool to show Alien to my sister and I when we were like, ten and seven, and we spent the rest of our lives in absolute certainty that tentacles were going to unfurl themselves from the back of any toilet we ever encountered.

Look at this thing. He totally took out that block dude and ate his face off. Come to my house, and he'll eat your face off, too.

3. I am now 26 weeks pregnant.

On me, 26 weeks pregnant looks like this---->

Apologies for the dark picture. Also, for the goofball look on my face. You don't need to see that.

This pregnant, for those of you who don't know, means spending all night having to pee every hour, while being smothered in your sleep by the weight of your baby pressing up against your diaphragm. Fun stuff. Happily, it also means that you have crossed the line from "no-sure-if-that's-your-beergut" pregnant, to "oh-don't-you-look-cute" pregnant. This is a good thing. Look forward to next month, when I am tired of being cute, and wish people would stop touching/talking to/looking at my lumpy potato body.

For right now, I'm cool with it. I'm less potato, and more lush and fertile fields. Full of potatoes. I think I need to throw a baked potato into the oven. Yeah, that would be freakin good.


  1. Yay, lush and fertile preggo pic! :) Next month you might be wishing Carl brought home a second wife from the festival so she could rub your feet and fix you food and stuff.