The other day, a small article in the paper caught my eye. There is no point in spending any amount of time trying to find the link to it, as one now has to register to read that paper and how many people want to read about what is going on in Brabant ? In any case, it was about a new sporting event that was going to take place within the week : computer monitor hurling.

For some reason, I tend to believe that this event was going to take place in the Achterhoek, but I could be wrong and simply very biased. But doesn’t computer monitor hurling sound like something that one should do to the tunes of Normaal ?

Unfortunately, it was canceled by the powers that be, wherever it was. Pity.

Have I mentioned that ‘ someone’ is getting their own computer ? While this means the end of my little-room-of-my-own and the birth of ‘the office’, or perhaps ‘ the computer room’, I shall be very glad when ‘someone’ can fuck their own computer up, day after day, instead of mine.

Yes, Mummy is a wee bit annoyed at ‘someone’.

Head lice are a stubborn problem at the school the kids go to. There isn’t a week that goes by but I receive a flyer telling me that someone in one of the kid’s classes has cooties, so check the family carefully. We have a wonderful and well used set of cootie combs from WallyWorld. Perfect.

This year, the powers that be at the school have decided to set up a Cootie Patrol, in an attempt to banish the creepy crawlers for once and for all. I received three papers- one for each child- explaining how volunteer ‘Cootie Mothers’ would examine each child at the school on a regular basis. The participation of the children as well as that of the Mothers was voluntary, I needed to sign permission slips for the children if I wanted them to take part in this project.

Well, I signed The Boy and The Bay up, but The Girl shivered in horror at the thoughts of someone, some strange ‘Cootie Mother’ going over her hair. She was very upset. So upset that- seeing how this was a voluntary program- I denied permission to have her be examined on a regular basis. I do that anyway, as she had a rampant case of cooties last year and every time her head itches, I have to check her out.

Can you see where this is going ? It seems That The Girl is the only child not signed up for the program, I, the only Mother that has denied permission. And now I am being pressured by the school staff to give in. In fact, just now Baby’s teacher- of all people- tried to guilt me into giving permission: ‘ But’ she said, ‘This won’t work unless everyone takes part’. ‘Well, I thought the paper said ‘vrijwillig’ ? ‘Uh, yes and no’ she said. She also pointed out that they saw it as a matter for the parents to decide, not the children, and obviously I was letting The Girl decide this for herself.

They have come up with a compromise : I can become a ‘Cootie Mother’. Gee, as a small child, I used to lie in bed awake, hoping and dreaming- or perhaps not even daring to dream- that I would grow up and become a Cootie Mother. Anyone here been around long enough to recall that my pet horror is of parasites ?

I will talk to The Father about this. I most likely will cave in and become a ‘Cootie Mother’. But I keep thinking about the special classes that The Girl ( and The Boy ) have had at the very same school, classes in which they were told that they have control over their bodies, that no one can do anything to them that they are uncomfortable with. That children have rights.

We have a cable Internet connection here. Hard to believe, in a town of about 1200 souls, but there it is : we have cable. Now, other people on this earth might have a choice, but we are simply lucky to have cable, provided for us by At@Home-take-it-or-leave-it.

Lately, At@Home-take-it-or-leave-it has not been working very well on Saturdays…or Sundays…or Mondays. But I can find a bright side to this : just think, a few hours ago, I was wrapping presents, taping accordion music and thinking, boy, if I could post now, I would make a sly comment about this year’s favorite pick for Grinch of 2003.

However , I couldn’t post, and someone brought me two very lovely poinsettias. I’ve always been too cheap to buy pointsettas for Christmas.

But I’ve always wanted them.

( Is there a spell check for Opera ?)

Mummy Dearest : What about if I just get a Channel box and put something else in it ? Like a sheep or something ( my ‘traditional’ gift from the kids is a new piece for our manger thing. What can I say ? I hate gifts, but the kids want to give me something, so….)

The Father : Yes, that’ll work.

( Note : save the Channel boxes.)

The Father: So, you promise that when you go to The Big City next week you will buy a bottle of Channel for yourself ?

Mummy Dearest :Father, I have enough Channel to bathe in. Can’t my present just be a couple of used fish tanks ?

The Father : No. If I were shopping, I would buy you a bottle of Channel.

Mummy Dearest : Well, what if I buy something else, equally expensive , something that I want ?

The Father: No. A bottle of Channel .

Mummy Dearest : You do know that my real present is a nice Christmas ?

The Father : Yes.

Mummy Dearest : So, you won’t give me a hard time anymore about how much time Opa’s present is taking, will you ? I mean, I only started a week ago. You knew that it would take time.

The Father : No. It is the perfect gift, I know.

Mummy Dearest : And I want perfect little covers and labels on the CDs as well, you know that ?

The Father : Yes.

1. Mark Opa’s tape, burn it off and then start taping again.

2. Convert the Dylan files from .shn to .wavs, then burn those off. Open file to see if anyone else needs it.

3. Figure out how to convert .flac files into .wavs.

4. Pay The Father’s car tax.

I’m only putting this up because it makes me sound very clever, converting all of these files. Actually, I am a novice at this, and dread trying to figure out how to do #3. I keep telling myself that everything about these torrent files has gone very smoothly, very simply indeed so far. But I dread the thought of having to unscramble some hidden wall of techno-babble.

Well, I’m the one who wanted to learn more about music and computers…on to some more oom-pa-pa music.

Today was my day to go to the Big City. I thought about bringing my camera with me, but it was cold, grey and wet today and since the precise location of my gloves is known only to the powers that be, I figured that I would spend most of my time with my hands stuffed in my pockets- a vague attempt to keep them warm.

I was right.

As always, I enjoyed my time away from domesticity, motherhood. I like looking at the Langstraat villages that the bus passes on the way there, guessing when the houses were built. And I like the Big City, in particular the bridge from the train station into the city center. There are always a lot of students around. I always wonder, do you blog ? Do I perhaps ‘ know’ you ?

But it was a busy, busy day. Shopping took longer than I thought, because I dawdled to my heart’s content, but that has meant that the rest of the day was running from one task to another.

Oh well, ho, ho, ho and all of that.

Rush or not, I’m in for Christmas.

The Father took off this morning for East Germany. He will be back late tomorrow night. I am taping the Ajax game for him right at this very moment. The one second that I looked in on it, the other side scored. Better not check again.

Sometimes, I like it when he is gone for the night. I don’t really know why, for I like him fine and we get along well. But sometimes, I just like being by myself, doing what I want to do.

Well, ‘by myself’ once the dogs, cats and fish are fed, and the children are all tucked into bed. Then it is like a small holiday- perhaps from my self-imposed routine- who knows. Look ! I can go to bed early, stay up late, watch mindless shows, do whatever I want.

Not that I can’t do so normally.

How very odd.

But nice.

It has been one of those days. While certain members of society are changing the course of world history, I find myself bobbing back and forth according to the success of ‘The Christmas Present For Opa’.

Now, be forewarned, I do believe childbirth affected me in a rather unusual way : it slowed down my ‘eureka!’ facilities. At one time, ‘Aha !’ would have come to me in a split second, but nowadays, it…takes a while. Perhaps it is because my attention is always fractioned off into tiny pieces, or perhaps I am simply in the first stages of Alzheimer’s. I’m not trying to be funny there- it could, indeed, be true.

For whatever reason, it means a lot to me to do this whole taping business well. Perhaps because I like Opa fine, and I know what he wants from these tapes.

So, last night, I reported my first ‘ Eureka ! ‘ experience to The Father : I’m working with blocks of 180 minutes and the music….well, I don’t much care for it. After a few days, I noticed that all songs are at least two minutes long, usually more. And so today, I tried it out : once I had marked a track, I forwarded the tape two minutes, and sure enough, after a short while ( except for those bleeding accordion mood-tunes) the end was in sight. This morning, I marked 3 hours of tape in a little over an hour ( thanks to those bleeding accordion tunes which went on ..forever).

But the thing is, while I transferred the music over within a reasonable frame of time, the quality was, well, very bad. I’ve never heard the tapes actually played, so I have no way of knowing if they are intrinsically bad, or if I am doing something wrong.

Well, I told myself, it’s just one bad tape. On-wards. And then I hit a tape that I knew Opa was remembering : it started with a half hour fragment of The Father, as a very very wee boy, talking about Sinterklaas ( he was afraid of the Zwarte Pieten- sound familiar ?). I spent two hours trying to adjust every stinking thing there was, in order to make the tape understandable…but failed. I couldn’t clear out the garbage, no matter what I tried. It left me rather blue.

The next track of the tape was equally bad. I tried to recall that The Father had mentioned that in a 4-track system, two tracks always were a bit weak, but still, I was very disheartened. Especially as at this point I knew that two days ago, The Father threw away all of his reel-to-reel tapes. So, why not just give Opa The Fathers reel-to-reel ? We have no tapes, no use for it any longer.

But the next two tracks came out ok. Not great, but ok. So I shall plog on.

On Thursday, I go to the Big City. Good. I need a break.