Puzzling parables

You guys ever get tales, or parables, stuck in your head? I’ve got a few that recur. The one about a frog in boiling water, that one stuck with me, especially when I was pregnant. There is no “one day” where you have to stop wearing your regular jeans. But there absolutely comes a time when you should not be wearing them.

The current one that keeps going through my head is that little puzzle they told us in grade school about the fox and the chicken and the grain. (See, Chicken, I do to reference you) — And the farmer has to ferry them all across the river but his canoe only carries one other item. How does he do it, yada yada, because if he leaves the chicken alone with the fox, he’ll eat her, and the chicken will eat the grain, etcetera.

I always think about that one because it’s how it is with a baby. You have to puzzle things out. Like, I have to take the folded laundry basket and carry it to the car, but if I leave the baby with the cat food, she’ll scatter it across the floor. If I take the baby and leave the laundry and come back for it, she will become enraged. So you end up taking the cat food and laundry to the car, then bringing back the cat food and putting it down and taking the baby to the car. That took a long time to write.

Anywayz. There was another thing I was thinking about, but it’s gone now.

I’ve FINALLY got another book to read! It’s that bestseller from a few years ago called A Short History of Nearly Everything. Many thanks to Briana for making me read it. (You probably don’t remember hounding me, Bri, because it was more than a year ago. But I didn’t forget.) So far it’s slow going because I’m still in the bit about how gigantic space is, and I have to go slowly to assimilate the numbers. I love it. I liked the bit about supernovas and the vicar in Australia who’s found forty-five or so just with his little telescope! “Quiet and unassuming.” And the fat cats with their fat cat telescopes have only found sixty, all told. Americans. We like the underdogs.

I finished that sock I was knitting. Oh, the other saying I was thinking about at the beginning was when old people upbraid you for going out in the cold “without a stitch on you.” As in, no clothes. Well, it really hits home when you spend four weeks knitting one sock. The stitches are so small, but each one takes some time, of course. Small amount of time, but still. It’s just a really vivid image. In knitting, a stitch is that little V that you probably think of when you think of a knit sweater.

Enough about knitting. It’s not very glamorous. Iris is going to show me how to crochet Wild Thing hats, which is way cooler.

On the news today was a Scottish journalist who’d paid ten grand to get a hair transplant, and he was being interviewed by Robin Lustig along with a Nigerian who was bald and proud of it. I thought it was sad. Why can’t the journalist get a hair transplant if he’s got the money for it? Why does he have to be paired with an underprivileged African who’s very secure with an enchanting accent? Well– they’re about even on the accent score, actually. But really. An unfair pairing.

I’m very happy right now because I’ve got glasses again. No more tape! Medicaid will pay for one pair per year. Minus two dollars copay, which is so cheap that it’s a delight to pay. This means no more cornea scratches from wearing contacts too much. After all, I’ve got these beautiful optic nerves. Better keep them in good shape… for all the nurses and doctors who might look at them… Ah well. At least I know they’re there.

Goodnight!

3 Comments

  • You probably shouldn’t leave me alone with the baby.

  • Emily Wimbish wrote:

    When I was in the Astronomy Club with Mr. Phaneuf, over the course of the years I saw the same Stephen Hawking video two or three times. I was always fascinated by black holes.

    Also, Scottish accents are terribly enchanting. I hope to marry someone who has one.

  • I know, Chicken. You and Fox.

Leave a Reply

Your email is never shared.Required fields are marked *