1) In every relationship, no matter how much you might like or love someone, no matter how much regard you might have for that person, there is always something that you could do without. Something baffling, irritating and getting-you-to-the-end-of-your-roping. I have no idea what it is about me that does this to my husband because he doesn't talk of such things. He's a burier - covering the negative with so much emotional and intellecutal flotsam and jetsam that whatever it might be will likely never see the light of day.

I, on the other hand, am an obsessor and will give the irritant so much mental bandwidth that it builds and builds, swelling like a blowing-up balloon until POP! it finally bursts and covers everyone nearby with a fine coat of spit.

And so it is now with our clocks. We have Living Room Standard Time, two varieties of Kitchen Standard Time, Laptop Central Time (not to be confused with Desktop Central Time), Bedroom Standard Time and Basement Standard Time. This bothers me To. No. End. I have a deep need to know what time it is exactly. I suppose I'm very American in this regard, but there you are. My husband has an equally great need to know approximately, within three or four hours or so, what time it might be. Clearly this is not a deal breaker between us, as we have been together for almost 14 years now but I am reaching one of my bienniel outbursts on the subject. These are never pretty and my insistence on temporal consistency is not nearly as endearing to my husband as my tendency to drop a bit of dinner down the front of my shirt every night. (Aside: my dearest would like me to point out that part of the problem is that two of the computers in question have their own minds on the subject and resist attempts to reset them to something resembling accuracy. He is right, but that doesn't explain the remainder of the problem, now does it?)

2) The above picture notwithstanding, today (and many days before this) is a gray, cool, rainy, miserable mess. Again. Still. Always. I seem to spend a lot of time complaining about the weather (and, alas, never doing anything about it) so today I decided to try something new, at least for what is ostensibly mid-spring. We are having a pajama day, refusing to change into day clothes and casting about for a few remaining logs leftover from winter with which to have a fire. I am rereading Amanda Hesser's Cooking For Mr. Latte. Although I do not know Ms. Hesser, reading her book is comforting to me because it reminds me of cooking and eating for friends and, especially, the cooking I did for my husband when he was just a guy I was seeing. I haven't found any friends here in Charlottesville who like to shop, cook or eat the way I do. A fun outing for me is to walk around the farmer's market deciding what to buy and eat later that day. I like to buy a vegetable I've never seen before and figure something to do with it, or browse around a wine shop debating for an hour what bottles we should buy to go with dinner. So that's a part of my life that I miss, but reading this book kind of brings it back for me, or rather reminds me of what it's like to be with people who think about food and ingredients and have fun with it all. It's a nice book for a rainy and kind of lonely day.

3) It feels like a baking day to me. I have a pound of butter softening but do not yet know what I'll make. Maybe some cookies or a cake. Maybe cookies and a cake. I've been feeling brioche-y lately but it might be too late in the day to start something like that.

4) Warning: I am about to type what has to be the most obnoxious statement in the English language. Ready? The Boy Wonder has been accepted into our first choice kindergarten. Oh, for the love of God. Not sure if we're going to take them up on it yet, because we have a lot of issues surrounding buying-in to this whole business. Still, I'm a little proud (o.k., a lot) that they recognized his Ability to Engage in Dramatic Play and Creative Expression to be as wonderful as I know it is.

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I have returned from producing the children for grandparental inspection in Buffalo. I am tired (it's a nine hour drive - about 475 miles or so - even when taking the speed limit along I-81 as more a helpful suggestion than mandate) and my fellow travelers are wired. It might be all the cherry licorice I tossed over the seat in an effort to keep them occupied or maybe it's just the entire day spent confined in their car seats but if the day keeps up the way it started I may have to look into padding the living room walls. A goodly supply of bubble wrap would keep them somewhat safe while I see to the distressing amount of laundry that needs attention.

The Boy Wonder and Entropy Girl are both decent enough on long car rides. We have a few toys that are available only in the car, which keeps them special and usually grants us two to three hours of happiness. After that, we break out the home toys and books and start singing songs. The only real disruption was that our satellite radio docking station (our car predates factory-equipped) broke and I had no NPR during the long stretches through the mountains and the kids had no Kids' Stuff. (An aside: when I was a girl my parents used to pack us all up and take two- to three-week car trips all over the country. For every trip my mom would put together little amusement bags to help keep us calm and busy during the driving stretches. One year the bags included Silly Putty - a huge hit with us girls. It was less popular with my Dad who faced picking melted putty off the velour seats after our trip to southern Florida. He still complains about "ruining his resale" as if a while Bonneville with laundau roof and powder blue interior had much resale value in the first place.)

I see that my comments are gone. Obtaining a new comments feature now added to the to-do list. I suppose I could use bloggers, but I hate using it on other peoples' blogs and I'd rather not spread what I see as kind of a hassle. Then again, it's not like I have a lot of time to evaluate the blogosphere's comment offerings.

Before I left last week I found an amazing price on tomatillas which I ground up and froze. With luck I'll be getting canning a couple pints of tomatilla salsa sometime this week. I should have a better idea of what the end of the week will hold tonight, after my husband meets with his students and puts together his own schedule of projects, papers and lab time.

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