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Sarah got her glasses. Now we have to get her to wear them. She's also making the big push to sleep without the aid of pull-ups.
I finished the Harry Potter series, reading the last three books over the last week or so. I'm satisfied with it. Readers of the series will get a chuckle from the title of a slacktivist post about the hopes being pinned on "the magic spell that President Bush is invoking in the hope it will protect him from his dementor-ish approval ratings" -- Expecto Petraeus.
My sister's health and outlook continue to improve. She'll be taking pills for the next three or five years (I forget which, but I'll bet she didn't) to kill the little cancer seeds that may or may not be in her. I forgot to mention that she has a new violin (or maybe I'm just forgetting that I mentioned it -- she's had it a few months now), so there's something nice to think about.
Sarah's getting disgruntled with "camp," which is what they're calling the phase of pre-school she's in. She was in a pretty good class where they were teaching her stuff and keeping the kids in line, and suddenly, she's been pulled out of that and put into a pretty pointless set of busy-busy activities. It won't be much longer now. Two or three weeks, then we go visit Grammy, and then she'll have about a week to hang at home with me and, for some of the time, with Cathy. I expect I'll be learning all about daytime kid's TV in that time.
The Saturday that's coming up will be an all-day whirl of birthday parties for two of her friends. Exhausting, yes, but it will save me from the particular hell that is the latest "Disney-the-Pooh" series. As bad as the rest of their essays in fouling the grave of A.A. Milne have been, this one is uniquely awful in that it features Pooh and Tigger as mystery-solvin' detectives with their friend, a strangely gender-shifted clone of Christopher Robin... and it's all in the ghastly computer animation style that reminds me of those View-Master sets from the 50s and 60s that used models to represent cartoon characters. They've already ruined Mickey, Donald, Goofy, and the Mickey Mouse Club with it, but at least those were (sort of) theirs to ruin, morally speaking. Anyway, they're filling the entire Saturday morning with this pooh, and I'd rather run myself ragged helping a clutch of small girls celebrate birthdays than watch two minutes of the show.
Sarah isn't into the Pooh books, because the ratio of text to pictures is too high. I still have hopes of introducing her to the real thing before she imprints on the sickening counterfeits.
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Sarah got her glasses. Now we have to get her to wear them. She's also making the big push to sleep without the aid of pull-ups.
I finished the Harry Potter series, reading the last three books over the last week or so. I'm satisfied with it. Readers of the series will get a chuckle from the title of a slacktivist post about the hopes being pinned on "the magic spell that President Bush is invoking in the hope it will protect him from his dementor-ish approval ratings" -- Expecto Petraeus.
My sister's health and outlook continue to improve. She'll be taking pills for the next three or five years (I forget which, but I'll bet she didn't) to kill the little cancer seeds that may or may not be in her. I forgot to mention that she has a new violin (or maybe I'm just forgetting that I mentioned it -- she's had it a few months now), so there's something nice to think about.
Sarah's getting disgruntled with "camp," which is what they're calling the phase of pre-school she's in. She was in a pretty good class where they were teaching her stuff and keeping the kids in line, and suddenly, she's been pulled out of that and put into a pretty pointless set of busy-busy activities. It won't be much longer now. Two or three weeks, then we go visit Grammy, and then she'll have about a week to hang at home with me and, for some of the time, with Cathy. I expect I'll be learning all about daytime kid's TV in that time.
The Saturday that's coming up will be an all-day whirl of birthday parties for two of her friends. Exhausting, yes, but it will save me from the particular hell that is the latest "Disney-the-Pooh" series. As bad as the rest of their essays in fouling the grave of A.A. Milne have been, this one is uniquely awful in that it features Pooh and Tigger as mystery-solvin' detectives with their friend, a strangely gender-shifted clone of Christopher Robin... and it's all in the ghastly computer animation style that reminds me of those View-Master sets from the 50s and 60s that used models to represent cartoon characters. They've already ruined Mickey, Donald, Goofy, and the Mickey Mouse Club with it, but at least those were (sort of) theirs to ruin, morally speaking. Anyway, they're filling the entire Saturday morning with this pooh, and I'd rather run myself ragged helping a clutch of small girls celebrate birthdays than watch two minutes of the show.
Sarah isn't into the Pooh books, because the ratio of text to pictures is too high. I still have hopes of introducing her to the real thing before she imprints on the sickening counterfeits.
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