My grandmother & grandfather came over for lunch. My mother likes to encourage regular visits; partly because she likes to show off the baby and (this is just my theory now) partly because she gets a perverse satisfaction out of the bizarre conversation & habits of her mother. From my mother I've picked up the habit of treating my grandmother as a persistent and slightly crazed necessity, a thorn in my side that keeps the blood from gushing out. This doesn't really do a service to any of us, as my grandmother is dismissed out of hand, I am annoyed before the visit even begins, and both my mother and I become neurotic trying to root out her mannerisms from ourselves. This was readily apparent the last time I visited Monstre, when I began to babble nervously about not wanting to push kindnesses on her and end up annoying when I meant to help. I am so quick to disassociate myself from my grandmother that I can't even do good in the world without examining my methods for her spoor.

Anyway. We went out for lunch at a local burger joint, as it's always my mother's choice of venue and she's very self-destructive when it comes to food. (I ordered vegetarian chilli; she ordered chilli fries). I got a fruit salad for the Blake, which my grandmother rapidly took over as soon as my mother had finished feeding him puréed pear and ricotta cheese. I had to pull back almost immediately, as I was about to lose it and demand that she leave him alone with the goddamn melon already couldn't she see that his mouth was already full of fucking fruit?? So I shut up and ate my chilli. Blake did not expire from the rapid feeding; he regulated his intake efficiently by spitting out excess chunks of fruit. And everyone was happy: my mother had her disgusting artery-clogging "lunch," Blake was full of yummy tropical fruit, I ate the most amazing "ground beef" I've ever tasted, my grandfather had a two-dollar turkey burger, and my grandmother got to give my poor starving child a few easy calories to compensate for my deficient breastmilk.

I really have to let everything flow once in awhile and let everyone's good intentions carry the day. Or in other words, I need to take a chill pill next time I see my grandmother. 'Coz she ain't takin' one for me, you can be sure of that!

Another day, another exercise class completely dominated by resentment. Why oh why oh WHY do women bring their babies to a public class with toys they want no other child to gaze upon, let alone touch? I once again had the misfortune of setting up next to two women who hid their toys when Blake so much as looked in their direction. Uh...that may work for your passive little mat baby, but mine is a lot smarter than that. Now that you've done your little control-freak toy shuffle he thinks you're playing peekaboo with the object of desire and he wants in on that happy action.

What I would really really really like is some sort of declaration from the front along the lines of 'babies are curious and many of them like to explore. If you don't want to share your toys, don't bring them.' I can and will prevent my child from crawling all over smaller babies (I have some standards), but keep your oh-so-precious possessions at home, you anal-retentive fishheads. That is all.

To go all Futurama on y'all, good news everyone! The Boy called me from the STRIDE offices today to let me know that he'll be getting his honours degree after all! There was a problem with the distribution of his courses (i.e. he needed another half-credit in Biology to finish his triple minor, without which he would've been granted a measly bachelor's degree. Plus, all the appropriate half-courses in Biology were filled to the gills and since the Boy isn't a registered student this year he had no way of checking on course availability. Maddening.) He had an interview with someone important (I've forgotten whom) and they've agreed to count a "history of science" course as a Bio credit. So now all he needs is a half-credit, which means that he can take something for which his mark will reflect his effort!

We're so proud of him! Blake in particular is so proud that he has to wake up every few hours through the night to congratulate his father in person.

This afternoon I finished Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. And while I can't wholeheartedly agree with Neil Gaiman that "Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is unquestionably the finest English novel of the fantastic written in the last seventy years," it was very well done. Her writing reminds me very much of C.S. Lewis in that she's a superb craftsman and a master of amusing subtlety. Now that I've finished the novel I can see the genius of her plotting, but I had no idea what would happen next, even to the last page. It's a gorgeous, gorgeous work of art and you really should read it.

And while I'm imbued with a certain amount of manic energy, I'll stop writing and go back to tidying my bookshelves & creating new flourishes to fit old webpages.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 11/02/2004 09:00:00 p.m.