John & Belle Have A Blog

Yay!!

It worked!! I went to the embassy and the passport was ready, so then I went right to the travel agent and from there to the airport. I am in the boarding lounge! Do I have enough diapers? Mmmm, prolly. I feel pretty jet set. No hotel reservations, but I figure someone will take pity on us. Thanks for your well-wishing, loyal J&BB readers!

Chun!

As my contribution to the Adam Kotsko-inspired Chun the Unavoidable Festschrift, I would like to tell you all about the most random dream ever. I dreamed I was busting a freestyle rap about Chun. I don't remember how the whole thing went, but part of it was like this: "You thought you could avoid him/but now you've just annoyed him" and then something something "He took your words and destroyed them." Now, John is pretty used to me waking up and telling him I had a very weird dream, but he still gave me a strange look when I said I had been freestyle rapping about Chun the Unavoidable in the land of Nod.

Of course, last night I had a dream which may have been even more random, in which I was a black undergraduate at Harvard, of a sort of BAPpy sort, and this wannabe punk rock white chick was making fun of me because I had so many expensive beauty products in my dorm bathroom. Which made me really mad, because, first of all, I got them all for free because my mother was a sittings editor at Vogue, and second of all, I happened to know that her Harley-Davidson-brand leather jacket had cost $700, so shut up. Chun is invited to emerge from retirement to comment on the complex class issues of this dream.

1st of Tha Month

The magic of iTunes shuffle just rocked me with the Bone Thugs-n-Harmony song "1st of Tha Month", which is all about getting up early to cash your welfare checks and buy drugs. I love this song. It reminds me of these people I knew in Oakland who...wait. This also reminds me that John specifically asked me not to blog this particular funny story. OK, never mind. If you're really curious you can email me. And now that I think about it, maybe it's sad rather than funny.

Word to the 5.1

Wow. I held out as long as I felt I possibly could before "upgrading", but I see here that people are still running Word 5.1 in the Classic environment, on their otherwise OSX machines. Damn, that's really kicking it old-skool. Maybe I should trash the current version of Word and return to the days of old. Probably not without consulting John, though. That's just the kind of thing that causes friction in a marriage.

Playa Hatin'

Jonah Goldberg makes an interesting "argument" to a reader who correctly points out that the Corner's Clinton-bashing of late "undercuts the recent plea made by Bush-defenders about the harsh “tone” of the alleged Bush-haters and how disrepectful, coarse, and nasty our public discourse has now become."

Jonah's response: Bush-haters hate Bush because of his policies, while "those who hate Clinton hate Clinton because they hate Clinton" (?!). Let us gloss this favorably by saying he means they hate Clinton for personal rather than substantive reasons. But, Jonah goes on to say, this is actually a more honorable course. Because hating a political figure because you strongly disagree with his implemented policies is totalitarian. And further, the people who hate Bush don't hate many other politicians who have the same views and support the same policies. So it's not really his policies they hate after all. So, it would seem, they hate him for no reason, but not in the good, conservative way of hating people for no reason, but in a bad, totalitarian, self-contradictory way of hating people for both for their policies and for no reason. All clear? On a personal note, I'd just like to say that in addition to hating Bush because of his policies and so forth, I also feel a deep, visceral sense of loathing for him, much the way John Derbyshire does about Clinton, I fancy. But, you know, in a much more evil and less principled way.

Cookie Monster

Chocolate peanut butter chip cookies, people. This is just basically the recipe from the bag of Reese's peanut butter chips, tweaked slightly in accordance with the patented Ben Waring Scheme of Cookie Improvement. More sugar and butter, less flour and eggs. Works like a charm.

2 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, room temperature
1 c white sugar
1 1/4 c brown sugar
2 medium eggs, or beat two large eggs slightly in a bowl and pour a little out
2 t vanilla extract
2 scant c all-purpose flour
3/4 c cocoa
1 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1 bag (10 oz) peanut butter chips

1. Preheat oven to 350. Beat butter and sugar till fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla and mix well.

2. Mix all dry ingredients together (except chips). Stir into butter/egg mixture gradually and mix well. Stir in chips.

3. Drop by rounded teaspoonfulls, bake for 8 to 9 minutes. They burn easily, so keep your eye on them. They will puff up and then flatten as they cool. Let them cool on the pan slightly, then remove to wire rack to cool completely. You know what's nice? A silpat baking pan liner, like my bro got me for Christmas. Let the pan cool completely before you put the next batch on, or the butter will melt out too fast and you will feel sad. Makes about 5 dozen cookies.

You might wonder what the hell I'm going to do with five dozen cookies all by myself. Not to worry! First of all, I already ate a dozen. Second of all, I conveniently burned a dozen and decided to throw them away. I'm taking the others to a new mother's group. Finally, I'm proud to post a recipe that will bring the ogged and fafnirs of the world together, to chorus in sweet harmony, that these cookies are definitely not pies. Even if I sandwich homemade cinnamon ice cream between them. Not pies. Awww, group hug time. I love you guys.

Things To Do

John is a wonderful, sensitive dad. But he is a guy. I thought of this yesterday when he gave me some advice about what to do now that I was stuck by myself with a two-month-old baby who seemed to be getting a cold. "You could get a lot done on your novel! Isn't that a good goal? She sleeps a lot." Ummm. I invite my fellow mothers to join me in a hearty laugh now.
UPDATE: You know, I really shouldn't make fun of my husband on the interweb in front of God and everybody, when he's such an amazing human being. I love you John.

@$%#&*@!!!!

Some people have their shit together, while others are members of my family. I just did something SO stupid. Since Violet is only two months old, I thought she could travel on my passport. I further thought that travelling on my passport meant just that: I show up with the baby and my passport and her father and the birth certificate and off we go. Ha fucking ha. In retrospect, I have no idea why I thought that would work. Maybe I could have, you know, looked into it a little? So, Tena and my in-laws got on the plane yesterday morning, and John and Zoë and Violet and I went to the US embassy. But they've tightened the rules and will no longer insert a page allowing children under one year to travel on their moms' passport. No, little Vi Mai needs her own passport. And they don't have expedited service or temporary passports for someone who needs a new passport, they way they do in the case of a lost passport. The long and the short of it is that everyone is on the beach in Phuket except me and baby. They might finish her passport in time for me to buy a new, last-minute ticket and go for a couple of days. Maybe. And I'm all by myself and baby is sick. I cried last night. Why am I such a fucking retard? Before leaving last night, Zoë said "Mommy, you're dumb like Homer, but I'm smart like Lisa!" That's right, honey. You are.

Vacation

This blog is on vacation for a few days. Pornographers and professional penis-enlargers are instructed to please not leave comment spam. The rest of you are welcome to chat amongst yourselves, pending our glorious return.

The Children of the Heart

Bits and shards of broken booknotes. Perhaps I will eventually manage to assemble larger critical structures I envision. Or perhaps I will decide it is inadvisable and not poke the rubble, seeking romance.