When I Grow Up

I love being a SAHM (despite the occasional moments of complete insanity). However, I've been thinking a great deal recently about the fact that a time will come when my little birdies fly off to kindergarten and I'll have huge chunks of time to fill.

Mind you, I have all sorts of ideas about how to spend that time. Reading science fiction, sleeping, getting regular mani/pedis, sleeping, watching trashy daytime TV, sleeping -- you get the idea.

By the time the girls hit second grade, I think I might be bored with this schedule. Maybe. I'm going to need something to fill my time, and it would be helpful if that something contributed to the family finances. So I've been going over all possible options for future paths/occupations that would make me a productive member of society rather than a total couch potato (with a fab manicure). What do I want to be when I grow up? The options:

Freelance editor. It's what I do now. I'm trained for it. It pays the bills. But I'm not exactly passionate about it.

Writer. I would really love to have written some fantastic, best-selling novel that people will still be talking about centuries after I'm gone. (Did you catch that? I want to have written it. I don't so much want to write it.)

Culinary/pastry school. I've long wanted to be a baker. However, I'm not so keen on early mornings.

Opera singer. I love to sing. I love opera. I love to be a diva. Why not combine those passions in a lucrative and glamorous career? However, opera divas have to stay up pretty late. Those Wagner operas are often five hours long! I can't stay up singing until midnight! I'll fall asleep on stage like Bryn Terfel.

Astronaut. What? Being an astronaut takes years of training, lots of specialized knowledge, advanced degrees in aerospace engineering, and bones that won't snap like twigs at 3 Gs? Whatever.

Professional reader of science fiction books. Sure, careers sort of like this exist. Editors of science fiction books, reviewers of science fiction books, agents for science fiction writers, etc. However, I don't really want to do anything other than read them. I don't want to write about them, or fix them, or even have a very clear memory of them once I'm done. I just want to read them.

Circus contortionist. Oh, I've got the ligaments, my friends. But I don't think I'm quite cut out for life on the road.

Professional sleep-study participant. YAWN. I think I could handle this one.

Somewhere in here are the seeds for my as-of-yet-undiscovered dream-come-true future job. Hmmm.

• Baker of space-ship-shaped cakes and breads?
• Singer of space operas?
• Writer of circus-themed cookbooks?
• Editor of over-long Wagner operas?

I think we might be on to something here.

Let the Mermaids Flirt With Me

Here's what I've been listening to this afternoon.

Found here at Mark Dvorak's site. Talented man.

Exploration for Exploration's Sake

Neil deGrasse Tyson is the new Carl Sagan, picking up that great man's mantle and continuing the fine work of making complex scientific issues accessible to schmoes like me who would otherwise have no idea what causes the phases of the moon or why Pluto isn't really a planet. (And he's just as hot! Va-va-voom!)

Mr. Tyson has written an article for Parade, Why America Needs to Explore Space -- I urge you to read it. If you don't think the space program is productive, if you think NASA is a big waste of money, or if you just don't have an opinion on the matter either way, please read what Mr. Tyson has to say. He does an excellent job of explaining two things: why NASA's budget is a drop in the bucket when it comes to our national budget, and why space exploration for its own sake is essential to the continued success and prosperity of our nation. And he says it far better than I ever could, so I'll shut up now. Go read the article already.

Found at Bad Astronomy.

Me Me Me(h)

A pox on Ann-Marie, who tagged me with a meme. So here goes: Eight random facts about myself and/or habits I just can't break.

1. My mother claims that my first word was an expletive, although that account is in dispute. (Me, utter an expletive? Never!)
2. As much as I love opera, I've fallen asleep during almost every opera I've attended. (Exceptions include the time my mom was in the chorus for Carmen.)
3. I can recite most of Hamlet's To Be or Not To Be soliloquy. (But, seriously, who can't?)
4. When I'm alone, I talk to myself almost constantly.
5. I can put both ankles behind my head. I've long wanted to run away with Cirque du Soleil. (Wait, does that count as two?)
6. I have absolutely no willpower when it comes to food, so it's a good thing I'm naturally blessed with a small appetite.
7. I have a knack for remembering song lyrics, but somehow that doesn't help me when playing Songburst at Game Night.
8. Every afternoon, when I put the twins down for their nap, I turn on Spike and enjoy a few hours of Star Trek reruns. I love naptime.

And now, rather than tag eight of you with this meme, I send it out into the blogosphere. Feel free to take it up if you like.

Photo Diary: Life With Toddlers

Today, and every day, this is what my living room looks like. Oh, how I long for a home with a playroom.

General chaos.


They're two, they're four, they're six, they're eight, dumping tracks all over the place, on the floor and jamming into my instep, Thomas and his friends.


Specific chaos.


Notice how the Drop and Roar Dinosaur curls protectively around his treasures. Baby Tad (behind, left) is conspicuously excluded.


Stop by the castle, where King, Merlin, Knight, Squire, and Dragon enjoy crumpets and tea at the round table.


Twin sentries.


The gallery.

Harry Potter and the Oh My God I Can't Believe That Was the Last Book

Finished. Let's discuss. I declare the comments thread for this post to be a Harry Potter Spoiler Zone. If you haven't finished the book and/or don't want to know, don't read the comments for this post.

A Book Reading Meme

While I read HP7 and neglect a) the blog and b) my children, consider this brilliant book reading meme. It sums up my thoughts about memes quite nicely.

(Five of you are tagged. But you'll never know who. I'll carry the secret to my grave.)

Harry Potter and the Impending Neglect of My Children

Don't expect to hear much out of me for a few days.


Sophie is almost done with the book. I hope she'll let me borrow it when she's finished. And I hope she doesn't tell me how it ends.

Slowly Through the Desert

Hey, remember that sweater I started knitting back in March? Here's how far I've gotten. I think it'll be done in time for Christmas 2010.

Spoiled

What is wrong with these jerks who are leaking Harry Potter spoilers? I'm mystified, befuddled, and infuriated. What kind of person a) wants to know what happens without reading the books for themselves and b) thinks its funny to spoil the books for everyone else? I'll tell you want kind of person: A jackass.

I think of my poor friend Jill's experience with HP6, when her 12-year-old neighbor spoiled the entire book with three little words (I'll keep those words to myself for those of you who haven't read HP6 yet). I'm telling you, if someone does that to me, blood will be shed.

So far, I've avoided all spoilers for HP7. I'm hoping to keep it that way. Please, if you know anything at all about HP7, DO NOT TELL ME. OR ANYONE ELSE.