Dear Everyone Who Lives In My House,

Have you ever noticed how when you open the refrigerator door, you always find things in the same place? Beverages are on the top shelf; everything in tubs (margarine, cream cheese, yogurt, etc) is on the second shelf next to the eggs; cheese and lunchmeats are in the drawer; leftovers are on the third shelf; bread products (tortillas included!) are on the forth shelf; fruit is in the fruit draw; vegetables are in the veggie drawer; condiments (i.e., everything in jars and bottles) are in the door.

Easy peasy, right? Everytime you open the door, you know right where to look for what you want. Amazingly, you grasp the inherent order when you are LOOKING for something, but it completely escapes you when it comes time to put something back. How can that be?

I know I don't have to rearrange the damn refrigerator every single day. I realize it's my choice to do it and we'd all live if I left it in disarray. But come on, people, how freaking hard would it be to put something back where you found it? Even you, orderly little German girl. You can spend 2 minutes each evening pairing up our shoes and lining them up in size order every evening, but you can't put the ketchup back in the empty spot in the door? You can do it. I know you can!

Sincerely,
Me

CREEPY!!!!

Yep. That's the theme of my week. C R E E P Y! It all started with a bizarre passive agressive e-mail from my longtime kinda stalker. If you know me well, you know the story, and I'm not going to rehash it here. But suffice it to say, those of you who helped me compose my response, that he didn't reply to it. I'm hoping that whole phase of my life is tied up with a bow--all official- like. (YIKES!)
(edited: I've just returned to revisit the above paragraph because if my alleged longtime kinda stalker were to read this, the wording would be unnecessarily cruel. in truth, he never technically stalked me--it was just an awkward and one-sided friendship. However, I decided on second thought to leave it as is, because in the event he does read this, he might be stalking me after all, and that changes everything. . .)

But that's not the creepiest thing that happened at the Czarnecki house his week. No it's not! However, since I can never tell a short story, I'll have to provide a little background.

A couple of weeks ago, Davy, the girls, and I were out trying to fly a kite when we discovered a big patch of milkweed. I thought it would be fun to see if we could find piece with a couple of monarch eggs on it that the we could raise and release. I spied a piece with an egg, picked it, and took it home. Little did I know, the plant was host to several already hatched microscopic caterpillars and we ended up with seven of the suckers. It might not sound like that many, but until you've tried to keep seven hungry monarch caterpillars supplied with fresh milkweed, I respectfully ask you to withhold your judgement!

In order to raise the seven cats, which turned out to be at different points in their development, I had to go out and buy several additional containers. I've also been making daily trips to random fields to gather more milkweed. Finally, yesterday, we had our first pupation! The two larger caterpillars attached themselves to the top of the container and formed the tell-tale "J" that monarchs make before they split off their skin for the last time and form their chrysallis. We were actually able to watch one of them do it, and it was bizarre, to say the least. The hanging caterpillar writhes and wiggles and pulses for about five minutes as its skin splits off. Then the caterpillar innards emerge in a gelatinous green glop that somehow hardens into a glittering chrysalis over the next hour or so.

Now, maybe you think that's the creepy part, but you'd be wrong. While those two big guys were forming their "J" and shedding their skins, a much smaller caterpillar started the same process. He attached himself to the top of the container and formed his "J" and . . . then . . . nothing. Normally, if you approach a monarch caterpillar in the "J," he will wiggle and do what appear to be little caterpillar sit-ups. But not this guy. He just hung there. After awhile, his "J" became and "I" and we were pretty sure he was dead. We considered a few possible explanations for his demise (maybe he attached himself too soon and he still needed to eat, but he couldn't move so he starved?) and then decided to check the Internet. After a few fruitless Google searches ("monarch caterpillar J too soon" "little monarch caterpillar J") I finally hit gold with "monarch caterpillar J dead." It turns out there's a parasitic fly called the tachnid fly that lays its eggs on the skin of very young butterfly and moth larvae. The resulting fly larvae burrow into the caterpillar's skin and wait there. They feed on non-essential tissues and grow with the host. The host continues to live normally until the tachinid fly larvae begin to feed on essential tissues and kill the host. Somehow the larvae cue the caterpillar to begin his pupation early. After the caterpillar dies, they emerge from the caterpillar's body.

After I read this, I immediately removed the dead hanging caterpillar from the communal container and stuck him in something else, just in case. And this morning we awoke just in time to watch as the tachnid maggot emerged from the caterpillar's dead body. Blech, blech, blech. Yes, I understand all about the circle of life, but that, my friends, was truly creepy.

Can't Stop Laughing. . . .

I posted the following on a message board I frequent. My sentiment was, as I think you'll recognize, somewhat facetious.

"I've reached an all-time personal low. Yes, I know it's completely pathetic.Yes, I know I'm part of the problem.But I actually just logged on to the internet to find out whether Anna Nicole Smith's daughter's paternity results have been announced.I can't believe the depths to which I have sunk."

Okay, well, it was mostly facetious. I did actually log on to find out the results (which have not yet been posted), and I am not proud of it. But as for it being my all-time personal low? Well that may have been an exaggeration.

In any event, I received the following response almost immediately:

"You sound bored with your life. I was telling my dd yesterday that as she goes through this life, she needs to live it not just sit back and watch it go by but participate in it. I suggested keeping a list, or jar, or whatever, with a list of things that she wants to do and picking one thing each year and accomplishing that thing. Maybe that way she would spend more time trying to accomplish the things that she wants to do and therefore will be living her life. Just a thought."

Oh my. I guess I need to go get a jar. Or whatever.

Damn, it's been an exhausting week at the Czarnecki house, and I just realized it's only Wednesday.

1 really sick kitty + 1 depressed and unhappy exchange student + 1 oversensitive 7-year old in existential crisis + a shitload of oak pollen = 1 tired me.

Home again!

LOST!
One eastern screech owl. Grey morph.

Maybe she's sitting on her eggs and not coming up to be seen. Maybe she's off visiting friends and will be back tomorrow. Maybe she's gone to South Padre for spring break.

Who the hell knows? All I know is I want my owl back!

Are you fucking kidding me?
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17527506/

How in the hell do these people live with themselves? The hypocrisy is STAGGERING.

Yet another picture. Trying to get it in the right light. I badly need a new camera!

A bigger picture.

My dad gave me an Owl Shack for my birthday. If you don't know what that is, you should check them out at www.owlshack.com

We put our owl shack up on last Tuesday, and yesterday morning we discovered we had a tenant. We named her (we think it's a her, but really, who knows?!?) Owla Fitzgerald in honor of Zoe's new passion for 20th century jazz. If it turns out she's actually a he, his name will become Duke Owlington.

I wish I could take a better picture, but for now, I don't want to get to close. I'd hate to scare her off when she's just getting comfortable.

I just realized I've gone two or three days without hearing or reading a single Anna Nicole Smith story, and that's just freaking me out.

Or maybe the fact that our exchange student may have whooping cough is freaking me out.

Or maybe I'm just a freak.

Either way, I need to get my universerse back in balance, and ASAP!

Please excuse me while I vent for a minute. . .

Never mind. I'm too annoyed even to vent rationally. So I'll just break it down to the basics. Everybody sucks. Especially the people who live in my house. Most especially the ones under the age of 18.

That's all. I'll get over it soon, I'm sure.

If you are my friend (and clearly you are, or you wouldn't be reading this) please, please, please don't ever "shoot" me an e-mail. And if I ever "shoot" you and e-mail, feel free to just shoot me.

The love-obsessed astronaut mom charged with attempted kidnapping and murder earlier this week should probably send some flowers to Anna Nicole's funeral. I've never seen a story disappear so quickly and completely.

This is a rhetorical question, but what the hell happened to the news in this country? I took a much greater interest in each of these stories than I should have, so I know I'm part of the problem, but damn. Our news coverage is completely out of control.

Mia had a hard time getting to sleep last night. She had had a bad dream the night before and she was afraid that it was going to come back if she went to sleep. As Mia tells it, "There was this evil puffball. His name was Fluffy. And he kept tricking me into his evil traps." What the hell? What kind of nightmare is that? You know, she used to be terrified of a singing puppet from Teletubbies. She saw it once and had nightmares about it for years. It was this bizarre little puppet guy with a bun on his head that went from window to window in a computer animated pink house singing a horrible little song. She saw the guy once for maybe 10 seconds and the image haunted her for, literally, three years. She even knew his name (although I'm certain he was nameless on Teletubbies). She called him Ihavin. I have a kid who is terrified of puffballs and singing puppets. What's up with that?

In other kid news, we ended up talking about Latin American while we were sitting around the dinner table last night. As you may or may not know, we have an exchange student from Germany living with us right now. Jenny (that's her) is taking, among other things, Latin American Studies at Austin High, which led to the following conversation. . .
Zoe: What's Latin American Studies?
Jenny: Well, do you know what Latin American is?
Zoe: Nope.
Me: Latin America is a bunch of countries to the south of the United States where the people mostly speak Spanish.
Zoe: Oh, like Mexico?
Me: That's right. And Guatemala, El Salvador, Chile, etc.
Mia: Oh yeah. And India.
Zoe: No, silly. They don't speak Spanish in India. They speak Curry.

Oh my. So much for multiculturally-sensitive parenting. . .

I subscribed to Prevention magazine recently. I needed to subscribe to *something* as a friend's kid was fundraising for preschool playground equipment or an orchestra trip, or whatever. In any case, I already receive all two magazines I'm interested in reading (The Week and less consistently, Texas Monthly) as well as a couple I don't read.

I chose Prevention because a couple of my friends get it. And these happen to be my most health conscious, fit friends. And they're smart, too. Really, really smart. So, rather than ASKING what they thought of the magazine, I figured they must like it. And wanting to be health conscious, fit, and smart, I subscribed.

But guess what!?! It SUCKS! It's like a health and nutrition tabloid. Seriously. I'd say it's about 50% pharmaceutical advertising, 15% other advertising, and maybe 15% useful information. The remaining 20% consists of bogus and/or hyped up health claims, such as how to Lower Your Blood Pressure with Celery! or how to Choose Fat-Blocker Foods!! Or my all-time favorite, "Doctors' Top Ten Secrets for Preventing Heart Disease! What?!? Doctors keep the good stuff secret and then publish it in Prevention magazine? Yeah, I didn't buy it either.

So, if you love Prevention and I've hurt your feelings, I apologize. Especially if you're the friend whom I love and respect who unwittingly tricked me into buying the damn thing. But I really had to get that off my chest.

Now I'm going to go find out how to Ward Off Cancer with Cherries!

I'm going to lay my political biases right out on the table (as if I haven't already). What I'm about to say is pathetic, but it's honest.

If we had discussed the issue a week ago, before any of this happened, and assuming the vaccine has been well-tested and is safe and effective, I'd very likely have thought that adding this to the list of mandatory vaccines would be a good idea. BUT as soon as I heard Perry had issued an executive order making the vaccine mandatory, I was suspicious. We are on completely opposite sides of the spectrum on most every issue of substance, and that makes me wonder what his motives are. Plus, the idea that he completely avoided any kind of debate about the issue by issuing the executive order really rankles me. Any time any political figure does something like that, I think it should raise flags.

All that being said, I think it is ridiculous to argue that giving a young girl a vaccine to protect her against a potentially life-threatening disease STD is somehow promoting promiscuity. If we were to apply the same argument, we shouldn't vaccinate children against hepatitis because it could promote promiscuity, intravenous drug use, and blood transfusions. The argument just doesn't make sense!

It absolutely sucks that we live in a time where everything out of the ordinary can be interpreted as potential terrorism. A bunch of birds die near the capitol in Austin, and we assume someone has released something dangerous into the air. An irreverent tv show initiates a stealth marketing campaign, and some passerby panics and calls the police, who shut down parts of a major US city.

What the hell?

I've been thinking about all the hubbub caused by the "terrorist scare" in Boston. (You can read up on it here http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16921137/ if you're not up to speed.) Is it possible that the government really intends to hold the marketing people responsible for the goverment's own overreaction?

Maybe I'm missing a key piece of the puzzle, but it seems to me that intent has to play a role. From what I've read, what I know about the show the devices were marketing, and the images I've seen, it's hard for me to imagine that the people who placed the devices intended for them to be interpreted as dangerous. It may have been misadvised (although, really, I'm not even sure about that), but I don't think there was an intention to do harm. Yes, someone panicked and set the department of homeland security in motion. But whose fault is it really?

Which brings me to the lame and incomplete hypothetical scenario I've been considering. Let's say I take my minivan full of kids to the mall. As they're climbing out, someone unknowingly knocks the remote control to my on-board DVD player out of the van and we head into the mall. When we return, the parking lot has been overtaken by police and homeland security, and MOPAC has been shut down because somebody walking by saw a strange electronic device in a place it shouldn't have been.

Would this all be my fault? Could I actually be held financially and even *criminally* responsible for someone else's misperception of the situation? 'Cause that's what it sounds like is happening in Boston.

And that's just NUTS!

Somebody please tell me this is a joke. Maybe this guy was being tongue-in-cheek and I am missing the subtle cues. If not, this is seriously one of the stupidest letters to the editor I've ever read in the Austin American Statesman:


"How insulting, how sad, the powers that be would have us take seriously a man running for president whose name is Barack HUSSEIN Obama.

I wonder how many well educated, well informed, above average Austinites are even aware of this tiny tidbit. Now that's weird.--HP BRADISH"

If he's for real, HP Bradish is a complete moron.

Man, how I love weather-related housebound days. Gray and cold outside, warm and cosy inside, snuggled up in a blanket on a sofa reading a great book or watching an old black and white movie about nuns running an orphanage, a pot of chili simmering on the stove. It just doesn't get much better for me.

Now, if I could only get my dagblamed children to play along. They need "something to do." They want to "go out and play." They're "bored." Damn them and their developmentally appropriate desire for mental and physical stimulation.

Honestly, these girls are gonna ruin my snow day. . .