More Julia quotes and Halloween

This post is not ordered chronologically or any other way.

 Julia saw a bag of candy on the kitchen chair (Halloween night maybe?). She hugged it and said, "Ah, my best friend."

Halloween night. Damon as King Arthur, Julia as a lady bug or dancer or something, Claire as the Wicked Witch of the West, Anne as Ginny Weasley (You know, Harry Potter's wife. We tried to dye her hair red three times with semi-permanent dye. It didn't take.)

Halloween has broadened Julia's horizons. Ever since she's been saying things like, "When I grow up, I want to be a pumpkin" or "When I grow up, I want to play with the kids" or "When I grow up, I want to be a princess."

She created this a few days ago and called it a Halloween decoration:

Julia practiced trick-or-treating in the house, but at the ward trunk-or-treat she was traumatized by the Halloween CD I played. It has songs like MJ's Thriller. So she wouldn't go trick-or-treating for real. Jake tried, but she refused, sobbing. "No! I scared!" Mike Royko would have understood.

Side note: I may have traumatized the bishop that night. I'm in the primary presidency, and the primary is in charge of the trunk or treat, as well as the primary program which was 3 days prior. I've been feeling frazzled for most of 2016, so after the chili dinner/trunk-or-treat when we were cleaning the church kitchen, I seconded someone's suggestion that we just have a trunk-or-treat next year with no chili dinner: no decorating + almost no cleanup = awesome event for everyone involved. A dear lady said, "Oh, but the chili dinner is a tradition." I replied, "Well, the Lamanites gave up their wicked traditions when they converted to the gospel. So can we." She said, "I wouldn't call the chili dinner a wicked..." At that point I walked out of the kitchen and screamed in the hallway. I really did. Just as the bishop walked by. He looked too frightened to comment. Don't worry, though. People were vacuuming, so probably nobody else heard me. Oh, and I had vampire makeup on with fake blood dripping out of my mouth.

Julia quotes

Me: Are you angry?
Julia: No, I Julia.

Me: Do you want quinoa* for lunch?
Julia: Yes, sir.
   *She really likes quinoa. Theory: eat something healthy often in front of a little kid without offering any, and they might ask for some eventually, and even like it. Try to make older kids eat something healthy, and they probably won't try, and if they do, probably won't like it.

Julia: I got pants on my milk.
Me: You got milk on your pants, you mean?
Julia: Uh-huh. Oops, I got pants on my milk again.
Me: You mean you got milk on your pants.
Julia: Uh-huh.

Angioedema and chronic hives

I've got a swollen upper lip tonight. A week and a half ago it was the left side of my face, so the lip isn't a big deal. I used to be spotted with hives all over but thanks to Allegra 4 times a day (prescribed by my allergist) those are mostly under control. It's been almost a year of weird health. Worst I've ever had. I'm grateful because it's not cancer, but that doesn't mean I haven't cried over it and felt sorry for myself more than once.

Last November/December: bronchitis/walking pneumonia that lasted til February. Wheezing wouldn't go away, so I've been on an inhaler since then. Asthma has been ruled out.

After I started using the inhaler I developed hives. Pulmonologist (lung doctor. I can't spell it right, and spell check wants to know if I'm adding it to the dictionary...) said in June I had to keep using the inhaler until December follow-up appt.

I went to an allergist after being on a miserable elimination diet that gave some relief but not enough. Allergist doesn't think hives and swelling are inhaler or food related, does think I'll never find the cause. Put me on crazy amounts of Allegra. I'm going back to see him tomorrow, and I want another blood test (pulmonologist did one, but I think he only checked to see if I had been exposed to mold). Can it really be coincidence that I always swell up the day after eating pizza?

Theory: hives and swelling are stress related. Stress has made me sensitive to certain foods. I'm stressed about (1) our never-ending house projects. I'll post pics of our slow progress sometime. You'll feel stressed out, too. Unless you're a war refugee. Then you'll feel jealous because there are no land mines here, though it usually looks like one just went off. (2) We might have to move again. I know I'll survive another move, but I feel like I won't. (3) The Presidential Election. It's a national disgrace. Why doesn't everyone vote 3rd party or write someone (anyone!) in? Even if I drank I don't think I could get drunk enough to numb the revulsion of voting for the H word or the D word. The End.

Feel good moment for you

because you're better than me. My two-year-old had Peanut M&Ms and a piece of gum for lunch today. #stellarparenting, whatever that means.

quotes

"I believe in aristocracy, though -- if that is the right word, and if a democrat may use it. Not an aristocracy of power, based upon rank and influence, but an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate and the plucky. Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet. They represent the true human tradition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos. Thousands of them perish in obscurity, a few are great names. They are sensitive for others as well as themselves, they are considerate without being fussy, their pluck is not swankiness but power to endure, and they can take a joke."
          ~E.M. Forster

"For a godless man, E.M. Forster had a profound understanding of heaven."
         ~Charlotte Henderson

Kurt Andersen, in an NPR interview on the prospect of Trump winning the presidential election:
"I think it would be a great American failure of a character test."

"Amen, Kurt."
          ~Charlotte Henderson

Please Vote in the Caucus. Please Don't Vote for the Donald.

The Kansas Secretary of State has declared his support for Donald Trump. I listened to his rational on the car radio, something about how both parties in Washington have made government more intrusive and we need someone like Trump to shake things up and get things done.

I don't doubt Trump's ability to get things done. What I question is what he's going to do and how he's going to do it. Nothing he's said or done has convinced me he cares AT ALL for individual rights and freedom. He opens his mouth and I hear, "I love money, power, and Donald Trump, not necessarily in that order. You're all idiots. Unless you vote for me, in which case I love you." At least President Obama is guided by his ideals. Donald Trump is guided by Donald Trump, Donald Trump, and Donald Trump. His astonishing march to the front of the presidential race is depressing, maybe even terrifying. If he gets the Republican nomination, I won't know what to do. I can't vote for him. I can't vote for Hillary Clinton. I might stay home.

Why aren't there any George Washingtons or Abraham Lincolns anymore? I wonder if people of that caliber are un-electable now. You probably have to be an egomaniac to survive (and thrive in?) the current political process.

Reality Check

I just found out why none of the parents of my elementary school book group batted an eyelash over our discussion of constipation. I was at the doctor's office for Claire's appointment this morning. The waiting room had the cable channel Disney XD on. There was a play-doh commercial, with a toy dog that defecates play-doh. We don't have cable. I had no idea South Park's Mr. Hanky (who I thought was the most shocking, disgusting character of all time 17 (has it really been so long?) years ago, had permeated all of pop culture. Or maybe it's not even South Park's fault. I have no idea. After meeting Mr. Hanky, I retreated into a bubble and I'm sorry whenever leave it. Like when I go to a children's waiting room.

Parent Voluteer

The elementary school does this voluntary book club thing where kids are divided into groups of 5, they all read the same book, and then a parent joins them for lunch in the library to discuss the book. It's the one thing I've helped with this year. (I thought I'd done something else, because I remember making the tremendous effort of taking Julia the 2-yr-old to school, but then I remembered that was just going to watch the Halloween parade. Whew. Exhausting. Wish I were kidding.)

Anyway, I baked a Sam's Club cheese pizza (eh, I don't recommend Sam's take and bake pizza's), loaded up Julia, and took it in to the school for our little book club. (The organizer of this thing says you should get there early to set up the library tables beforehand. "The time goes so quickly!" This is a lie. Time with other people's children never goes quickly. Do not show up early.)

To sum up, here's the e-mail I sent to the parents of the children in my group afterwards, just in case they heard strange things from their child and wanted to make a complaint (i.e. ban me from the school, which wouldn't be a big deal, since I'm hardly ever there anyway).

I hope you all find this more amusing than offensive; regardless, honesty is the best policy.

Naturally, during our discussion of 'Mason Dixon: Pet Disasters,' the kids talked about their pets. One child mentioned a dog his family once had that gave birth to pups and then died. Another group member exclaimed, "The dog died of constipation!" I thought that was odd, and said I knew a man who died of constipation. [Note: you might want to reassure your children that almost nobody dies from constipation--the man I mentioned had a cancerous blockage.] This statement caused some confusion as at least one group member thought constipation had something to do with pregnant women only. I then explained that constipation means you can't poop. (My sister was right. I have an annoying compulsion to correct people when they're wrong. I'm sorry I did this in front of your children.) Anyway, after that, I steered our discussion away from the bowels. You can rest easy, knowing I won't be hosting Chat and Chew again for at least 6 years, when my 2-yr-old will be in 3rd grade.

I left out how difficult it was to steer the discussion away from excrement. One kid told us two stories: one about a man who committed suicide by jumping into a pool of manure, and another about a gun that either shoots poop, or shoots out mud that looks like it. And despite all the . . . stimulating. . . conversation, I sent them out to recess 5 minutes early because the time refused to go quickly. The End.