Summer Solstice

The weather I hate is back. It's currently 83 F inside the house and 95 F outside. The house typically lags about ten degrees F behind the outside. If it reaches 100 F today (and it did), the house won't cool down to 80 F until about ten o'clock tonight (and it did).

I wish it would rain. A lot. (At least Tuesday it's only 85 F.)

Arthur has generalized his sign language again. Mark is now "the bubble dad" and I'm "the harp dad." He requests bubbles and harping on an hourly basis. Just now he asked for the harp (over Cheerioes) so he could fall asleep.

He is getting a little perfunctory with the sign for more, too; I'm not so sure about this sign-language thing -- Arthur seems to think he's at some sort of spa.

Sunday the Unitarians let me do a presentation on neo-paganism and Wicca with a Wicca-style ritual as a part of their Sunday worship service. A woman named Martha was the day's worship associate (a kind of lay minister). She was introduced to Wicca about the same time I was, so we split up ritual duties. The lecture was humorous, and the curious got information out of it. The Tree of Life guided meditation went well, and the mystics had a numinous moment (at least I did, sort of). And everyone thought the spiral dance at the end was fun (although I did think I was going to drop my harp in the middle).

The service went very well. No one has set a question mark on fire in front of my lawn. With any luck, as a result, a Covenent of Unitarian Universalist Pagans group will start up at the church.

Let's see. We closed on the new house. We signed a zillion papers last Wednesday (the Solstice) I think it gets recorded Wednesday (tomorrow), at which point we'll be the official owners. The sellers fixed many of the problems, and all of the ones that were safety issues (like making sure the wall outlets were properly grounded). Before we move in the house will need to be cleaned, and we'll probably repaint.

I think the kitchen is ... well... oppressively uninspired, cheap, and institutional. And it doesn't match the rest of the house (neither does the bathroom). Mark thinks we should sand down all the cabinets and see what kind of wood they're made out of -- if it's nice wood, we could stain it to match the floors. And the kitchen's (and bedrooms') light fixtures have to be sent back to Tragicistan. Although I'm not usually a big fan of exposed wire track lights, I think they would do well in the kitchen in a retro kind of way.

I'm sure Mark and I will have many things (colors, lights, stencils, shrubbery, finance) to discuss over the next few weeks.

Signs of June

I don't know why everything in the universe has to happen during the solstice. In December we're running around buying gifts for everyone and going to a zillion family events. In June, ... we're running around buying gifts for everyone and going to a zillion family events. Why do Fathers' Day, pride events, the Solstice, weddings, The Writers of the Future deadline, and birthdays all have to happen in the last half of June?

June 11 was Arthur's first birthday. He enjoyed himself very much. One of his favorite presents was given by Evil Cousin Patrick, a plastic MegaBlock Wizard of Oz play set. It lights up and plays music. His other favorite present is a plastic pug.

Mark doesn't remember if Arthur started feeding the plastic pug spontaneously or if Mark did it first. But Arthur continues to feed the plastic pug. He also feeds us sometimes; but more often he takes back his food.

We've also closed on the house. We'll probably get the keys in a few days.

Arthur is signing like crazy. The other day I made up a sign for harp -- today he demanded a harp concert. Arthur really likes the harp; he likes to play it and he likes to be harped to sleep.

He learned the sign for flower at the beginning of the week. He's also making up his own signs. When he puts his hand to his nose like he's got hay fever, that's the sign for Mark. All this signing has led to his first poem (well, at least that's the way I interpreted it). Yesterday, when I was changing into a cooler shirt (the weather has gotten hot here), Arthur pointed to my nipple and then signed "flower". I'm guessing this is half of some haiku, and that we'll get the other half sometime in the future

         Daddy's nipple 
         is a flower.

I think this deserves some sort of Robert Bly Award. I don't know why Arthur thinks my left nipple is a flower -- he didn't smell it. I suppose my aureole looks like a blossom, but the hairs growing out of it don't look a thing like petals. Actually, now that I think about it more, I hope he wasn't calling me a pansy.

The Potential New House

We met with our relator and an inspector yesterday to go over the house. The oral report was good and we'll know more tomorrow. Seeing the house again was interesting; we'd remembered things slightly differently (i.e. larger), but we're still happy with the house.

My Kid's a Geek

A couple of days ago I had a eye doctor's appointment. Mark and Arthur came with me. As we were waiting, Arthur noticed the toys in the corner. One of them was a kid's laptop.

Mark sat Arthur down at the small desk. Arthur straightened his posture, curled his fingers ergonomically, and began to type on the lower keys. My and Mark's mouths dropped open. Arthur then grabbed the mouse and began to wiggle it while continuing to type with the other hand.

"Oh my god!" we both said, covering our mouths.

Arthur's not even one year old yet.

Mark says that while I was getting my eyes checked, Arthur picked up the mouse and threw it at the screen and grunted in frustration.

In other monkey-see-monkey-do news, Arthur and Muriel have been holding secret conferences or something because Arthur managed to lunge right in front of me the other day and I tripped over him.

Useless creature; the least she could have done would have been to teach Arthur to catch mice. With our luck, Arthur will be jumping up onto the counters looking for food.