Author Archives: Naptimewriting

IJ quote of the day 7

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Cop-out quote all of note 304, sub.

Slightly less cop-out, since it picks a favorite passage: all the anti-academese of note 304.

actual quote of the day, unofficially, according to only me and nobody else at infinitesummer.org:

“‘…the prenominate oversized infants reputedly do exist, are anomalous and huge, grow but do not develop, feed on the abundance of annularly available edibles the overgrowth periods in the region represent, do deposit titanically outsized scat, and presumably do crawl thunderously about, occasionally sallying south of murated retention lines and into populated areas of New New England.'” (1056)  [within the spolier line limits because it’s a note referenced way back in the 80s. As in page 80 or so, not as in pre-subsidized time 1980.]

Come on, folks—giant babies depositing gargantuan shite in the area forced upon Canada in order for Americans to export refuse? It doesn’t get much better. Except in this book.

Oh, the fans. If only we had the fans, those of us who do encounter such outsized scat…

Blue, cloudless sky

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You wanna know how lucky I am? (Since I mostly post snark about loathing parenthood despite loving my kid, i figure today is the perfect reason to tell you why I totally lucked out, in spite of the whole “not  cut out for this job and seriously considering running away from home” technicality.)

In Trader Joe’s, which, in addition to tasty, affordable loveliness, offers kids stickers and balloons, and P was in fine form. “May I have a bar?” Nope. Already had one today. “Okay……May I have some juice?” Nope. Yesterday was juice day and you had lemonade at the party. “Yeah. That was good lemonade.”

He helps the checker by handing over groceries. She gives him stickers. “May I have one balloon?” Sure. We ask. They’re out of helium.

“Oh, bug, I’m sorry. They’re out of helium, the special air that makes the balloons.” Breath held, calm distractions planned, explanations of world and its unfairness and yet relative goodness calculated.

“Well. Stickers are nice.” Proceeds to decorate his shirt and mine with stickers.

Seriously, does it get any better than a three year old who can shake off balloonlessness?

Seven years, almost

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Overheard in L.A.

Peanut: I love you, friend.
Friend: [whispering] I love you, too.
Peanut: [louder] I said, I love you!
Friend: I said, I love you, too!
Peanut: I didn’t hear you.
Friend: [louder] I said, I love you, too!
Peanut: Oh. I didn’t hear you.
Friend: [shouting] I said, I love you, too!

Lucy and Ethyl, ladies and gentlemen, at ages three and three and a half.

IJ quote of the day 6

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Eeking in just below the spoiler line today:

“The thing with Schtitt: like most Europeans of his generation, anchored from infancy to certain permanent values which—yes, OK, granted—may, admittedly, have a whiff of proto-fascist potential about them, but which do, nevertheless (the values), anchor nicely the soul and course of a life—Old World patriarchal stuff like honor and discipline and fidelity to some larger unit—Gerhardt Schtitt does not so much dislike the modern O.N.A.N.ite U.S. of A. as find it hilarious and frightening at the same time” (82).

Dang, man, ain’t that the truth about subsidized time and Entertainment.

Go read Ininite Jest.

Marital hope

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According to a fluff piece over at CNN (sorry, Ms. Stinchfield, but it is pretty fluffy), marriage is better before kids and after kids leave.

My takeaway:

“A 2008 study found that marital satisfaction actually improves once children leave home. Female participants reported spending equal amounts of time with their partners both while their children lived at home and after, but they noted that the quality of that together time was better once the kids were out of the picture. “Suddenly the tyranny of the children controlling the household is relieved,” says Dr. Robbins. “You don’t have to have dinner at 6, you don’t have to spend Saturdays at the soccer field, and you don’t have to be so responsible all the time.”

So I’m putting out a call to all landlords, employers, and colleges who will take a 3 year old. Please.

IJ quote of the day 5

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The entire section with Kate Gompert is really the quote of the day, in part for its humor and in part for the intense psychic pain. Jesus this is a great section.

“The doctor tool an early clinical gamble and asked Kate whether it might not be easier if she rolled over and say up so that they could spea with each other more normally, face to face.
‘I am sitting up.’
The doctor’s pen was poised. His slow nod  was studious, blandly puzzled-seeming. ‘You mean to say you feel right now as if your body is already in a sitting-up position?’
She rolled an eye up at him for a long moment, sighed meaningfully, and rolled and rose. Katherine Ann Gompert probably felt that here was yet another psych-ward M.D. with zero sense of humor. This was probably because she did not understand the strict methodological limits that dictated how literal he, a doctor, had to be with the admits on the psych ward” (71).

And the parenting award goes to…

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Kid, in a 60 degree house, is intoning, over and over, “I’m hot. I’m hot.”

I just hollered “Stop saying that; I don’t care.” Roll out the red carpet, I know I’ve been nominated.

Come on. He’s wearing shortie jammies, he’s on top of the covers. He’s fine.

And he’s been up no fewer than three times (next time gets the door shut completely, so he won’t be up again) to tell me that his friends don’t all fit in the bed. The whole day was about how they, they being Clementine the rabbit, Oliver the dog, Pizza the zebra, Uncle Bear the bear, Madeline the monkey, and Biff the Billy Goat, don’t fit in the dining room chairs and in the small table’s benches, and in the small orifice where I crammed them all by about 5pm.

Now he’s intoning, “Where’s Daddy? Where’s Daddy?”

Man, that kid knows on which side his bread is buttered.

IJ quote of the day 4

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Infinite Summer is not even one week old. We’re barely 50 pages in. Join us in reading David Foster Wallace’s novel this summer.

“He [Gately] kept his big square chin up and his smile wide, but he bowed neither toward nor away from any man. He took zero in the way of shit and was a cheery but implacable exponent of the Don’t-Get-Mad-Get-Even school” (55).

Ah, Gately, I’ve missed you.

There are days…

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Oh, boy, here comes my most boringest post ever. But if they still don’t like me, boring or funny, serious or ruefully tongue in cheek, then f— ’em, right? Okay, then, here goes:

There are just days like this. When I’m up late worrying or grousing or fretting or frenetically doing, and when I wake up slowly and painfully at the ungodly hour my kid demands (and he read in his bed for an hour before dragging me into the kitchen today, so yay four hours instead of three).

Today’s one of those days. And we can’t go anywhere because they’re ripping out a window in Peanut’s room and making it much bigger so it’ll meet fire code. Yay fire safety.

So I made a huge pot of play dough, and we’re going to town. Because all those things I worried about last night—all those people I wanted to excise from my life—they don’t matter. This little whirlwind of learning and growing does.

Plus he kisses me when he’s been rude, which is more than I can say for the rest of the planet.**

in a big pot stir:
4 C flour
1/2 C salt
1/2 C cream of tartar
then add
4T oil
4 C water

Cook on low/medium until it’s not sticky.

**You’re damned right. I just got all perspective-y then posted a playdough recipe. I’ve gone soft in the head. So? Ya wanna fight?

So yo then man…

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I’m having a seriously hard time returning to Infinite Jest.  I know I love the book,  for the same reason Dave Eggers urges us— in the 2006 edition— to read it:  “There is also a very quiet but very sturdy and constant tragic undercurrent that concerns a people who are completely lost, who are lost within their families and lost within their nation, and lost within their time, and who only want some sort of direction or purpose or sense of community or love.”

But this reading is different.

The reference to Hal’s father’s umbrella early on made me cry, as did the harried but attuned orderly’s “So yo then man what’s your story?” at the end of the first chapter. More tears as Orin introduces us to the howling fantods.

Damnit, what kind of genius brackets his novel with a traumatic scene in which our hero is pinned to the floor of the men’s bathroom then fastened into a psychiatric gurney and asked to tell us, the psychically incomprehensible and strapped  down, the rest of the novel? Tell me.

This reading is infinitely depressing, people. His writing is so amazing, but it didn’t make me cry in 1997. Now he’s dead and I have a kid, and I can’t take it.

Health care

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The New Yorker has an amazing piece on health care. Read this article by Atul Gawande, a Boston surgeon if you are interested in health care costs, health care reform, and why we should talk about health care not health insurance. If you can only read one page (which I never recommend, but I’m realistic), skip to pp 6.

Short version: the point isn’t who’s paying. The point is whether profit or care is privileged. Comparing apples to apples of population demographics and socioeconomic factors, too many tests and surgeries, mean higher costs to everyone—insurers, patients, and government—which actually makes patients less healthy. The more we spend, the worse care gets. Sometimes because docs are padding their wallets. Sometimes because the medical culture’s priorities are wack. Not because of malpractice or technology.

And the best health care? Collaboration and best practices seem to be key. In one case, the Mayo Clinic, salaries help keep costs way down because docs focus on getting people well the best way possible. And their quality far outstrips those hospitals, towns, and cities that cost the most. Ditto elsewhere that docs simply come together and agree to collaborate and root out poor care, though they’re not salaried.

So are we going to focus on patients or revenue? Read the article and help your national representative decide.

IJ quote of the day

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In honor of infinitesummer.org, I feel like posting the most awesomest Infinite Jest quotes as I come across them (all within the rules of Infinite Summer, for I will not post a quote before the online world reaches the week’s requisite pages.)

“Uncle Charles, a truly unparalleled slinger of shit, is laying down an enfilade of same, trying to mollify men who seem way more in need of a good brow-mopping than I” (13).

Come on. Go read it!