Month: April 2008

Swarm, the Quickening!

When we last left Mighty Girl, she was breathing into a paper bag and assuming yoga poses while Melissa gave her instructions on killing the hungry bugs in her hair. What will happen next?

Next we spent hours and hours and hours and hours washing with chemicals, combing with olive oil, blow drying with Cetaphil, rinsing with tea-tree oil, emptying our closets, washing and dry cleaning every fabric item we’ve ever owned, bagging everything else, vacuuming the entire house a hundred times, and smudging.

Bryan wouldn’t let me vacuum Hank’s head because he was all, “psychological trauma, blah, blah, blah,” but Bryan and the baby fortunately were not afflicted. After countless nights combing, and rocking in fetal position, we appeared to be bug free. Free of bugs at last!

It was about this time we decided to head up to the cabin — the blessed, lice-free cabin. We packed our lice-free clothes, invited our lice-free pals, and piled in the lice-free car.

We arrived to find the cabin infested with giant flying ants.

Flying ants chaining down from the ceiling! Flying ants, congregating on the moisturizer bottle! Flying ants playing poker and smoking tiny cigars!

I hung my lice-free head in our ant-infested living room. And after that I don’t remember anything, because I was drunk.

OK, I made that up. It took at least twenty minutes for the vodka to take effect, and in that time, Bryan suggested we crawl up in the attic to see if the ants were nesting up there or something. I nodded, considered that calmly, and then responded.

“Icannothandlethis! Icannotdealwithanymorefuckingbugsinmyhair,ormybed,orcrunchingundermyfeet! Iamcompletelylosingmyshit! I! Am! Losing! My! Shit!

…I will be out on the deck.”

So Bryan husbanded up and drove to the hardware store to explain our situation:

-We have a bunch of flying ants in the living room.

The counter guy nodded.

-Do you have anything to kill them?
-Yep. It’s that time of year.
-What the hell are they?
-Flying ants.

Bryan nodded.

Bryan returned home to kill all the crawlie things with hippie, don’t-kill-the-baby spray. It was made of organic lavender and vegan DEET. I downed a pitcher of greyhounds on the deck and apologized repeatedly to our eerily understanding guests. In addition to being extremely polite people, Bryan slipped some Valium in their drinks. Just to take the edge off.

Thanks to Bryan’s efforts, we ended up having a pretty relaxing weekend overall. And then, a few hours after our guests left, Bryan came in from the deck holding a plastic deli container.

Inside the container was a scorpion he’d found on the deck, where the baby had been crawling around all weekend. If you’ve never seen one in real life, they look kind of like this:


photo source

I’ll tell you what, friends. It’s becoming clear that my karma is aaaaaall out of whack. I clearly need to spend the next month meditating on wrongs I may have committed in past lives. It’s possible I offed some prophets or something.

Anyway, when we got home, we found our apartment had been overtaken by locusts and frogs. Weird, right? I guess it’s that time of year. Fortunately, I hear tea-tree oil is a natural repellent.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Swarm!

So, there’s this thing going on where I’m allergic to everything. For the last year or two, I’ve been dealing with many bumps that look and itch like mosquito bites. Sometimes a few of them pop up on my face! It’s fun. It’s a 24-hour party with go-go dancers, and laser effects, and shirtless men who bring you martinis.

Unfortunately, we’re not here to talk about my allergies — mostly because I’m not 122 years old, and therefore have not yet exhausted all other avenues of conversation. I mention the allergies story as a precursor to the real story. The story about the bugs in my hair.

Yeah. You heard me.

A mom friend recently sent an email letting me know that a kid at school (probably a nasty, horrible bully who enjoys name calling and stealing decorative erasers) had given one of her utterly adorable, perfect children lice. Since we like to cuddle her adorable kids regularly, she thought we should check our heads. Of course, my head began to itch upon reading the first sentence of her email, so I asked Bryan to check my hair whilst I shuddered uncontrollably.

Nothing, he said. I bleated with anxiety. Please check again, I said. He agreed. Nothing, he said again, rather more impatiently.

The next day, still obsessing and still vaguely itchy, I insisted Bryan check my head again. He did. This time he did it with the forbearance of someone who must regularly deal with hysteria-induced itching. No, he said wearily. There are no bugs in your hair. I skulked away — a pouty, bitter, hypochondriac.

Over dinner that night, I grew reflective as the itching grew more intense. Clearly I have begun to get allergy hives on my scalp, I thought. I may crawl out of my own skin with the discomfort. Perhaps, I thought, I should stop eating all the things to which I am allergic. Farewell, booze. Goodbye caffeine. Wheat? No more wheat for me. And then I sobbed quietly over my pasta. My teardrops made concentric circles in my red wine, and be-salted my after-dinner tea. My desert, garnished with a fine dusting of crushed Vivarin, went untouched.

A while later, I was washing my itchy hair, and looked down to find bugs on my hands. Exactly two bugs, in fact. They were each 4 feet long and had jaws like Drill Baboons.


photo source

I’ve no idea how they’d been hiding so successfully. Perhaps I have a very large head.

I emerged dripping from the shower to email Melissa, whose kids had lice a few years back. I told her I planned to strip the family naked and use a flame-thrower to destroy our apartment and everything in it. She noted that using a flame-thrower without protective clothing was imprudent, and might raise eyebrows, even in San Francisco. I agreed naked flame throwing was more of a Burning Man thing.

So what happened next? You can’t wait to hear all about it, can you? Well you’ll have to, because I’ve been spending a lot of time with the washing machine lately. Not to mention all the hours I’ve wasted scrubbing my skin until it was raw.

Tune in tomorrow to hear more exciting adventures! To whom did I loan hats? The baby! Good lord! What about that innocent baby? Is this where the swarming ends? Don’t miss one action-packed minute of infestation!

Mighty Life

I just put my Mighty Life list over there at the bottom of my links, as a reminder to get started on the important stuff. I mean, I could be hit by a bus any moment without ever having rewired a lamp.

Just by putting the list into words, I find myself working toward the goals without thinking. I’ve accomplished so much already without even consciously trying. It’s also eerie how situations are just popping up that help me cross something off the list. A friend wants to practice his portrait-taking skills, and voila! We have a family portrait. After the presentation in Austin, a woman approaches to ask if we’d be willing to do one in Canada. Voila! I’ll be crossing the Canadian border in the near future. I want to own land, and this anonymous benefactor leaves me an acre along the coast of Northern California.

That last one isn’t true. But still, eerie, right?

Anyway, here’s the other progress I’ve made so far:

-Identified the violin busker to whom I’d like to give $100.
-I’ve started the first baby steps on a novel. Also, I’ve taken up pipe smoking.
-Have the infrastructure in place to launch a new Mighty site! Awww yeah.
-Purchased the Apartment Therapy book so I can do the home cure for my “Make a peaceful living space for our family” goal. I’m starting with de-lousing.
-The friend who took our family portrait said he’d help me try to do one in the style of my grandmother’s photo. Except she was sixteen when her portrait was taken, so I may also need someone who has excellent Photoshop skills.
-Started putting aside baby clothes for a quilt. I have trouble letting go of anything, actually. Little, tiny footie pajamas! Eeeny beeny socks! Soon our house will be a solid wall of our possessions with only a tiny path leading to the bed, where I’ll be chortling over one of Hank’s old onesies. With a robot on the front!

Have you done anything because of your list? Do! Then tell us, immediately.

Chug-a-Hugs!

And in the category of Ads that Would Never Fly in the States:

I took that in Argentina, it’s an ad for Tang featuring two young children who have fashioned a beer bong for Tang delivery. Madcap! Bong imagery aside, to my jaded eye, it looks like they’re pouring vodka and Kool Aid into the funnel:

What are we teaching the children?

Kids, listen to Aunt Maggie.That’s no kind of way to treat vodka.

19 Days Without Yeti

It’s been 19 days since the last Defective Yeti update, and that can only mean one thing. Matthew Baldwin is being held hostage on a secluded island, with no access to a keyboard, and enemy forces on all sides.

That or he’s playing, like, the world’s longest game of Werewolf with an inconceivably large group of friends. (So two things, I guess. It could mean one of two things.)

Anyway, Rob of Cockeyed has assembled a crack team of Internet search-and-rescue operatives:

I will be hiding here in my closet, in case the bad guys are coming for me next.

As for you Matthew, you stay alive. No matter how far, how long it takes…

We will find you.

7 Things to Taste in Argentina

As some of you know, we lived in Buenos Aires for a month last December, and I still have lots to tell you. Here’s a primer on some of the more traditional foods you should try if you plan a visit:

Seven Things to Taste in Argentina

Seven Things to Taste in Argentina _ Mighty Girl
Toast spread with dulce de leche.


Churros at the Recoleta fair.

1. Dulce de leche Fresh dulce is practically sexual. You’ll be tempted to pinch a bit to slide between your thumb and forefinger. Instead, may I suggest pouring a gallon or so on the bed sheets and rolling around in it naked? …No? Well, you can also use it on ice cream, fruit, or toast if you’re concerned about the cleaning bill. Be sure to try a slightly crisp panqueque swelling with warm dulce filling. (Miranda’s makes a great one — calle Costa Rica 5644.) Also seek out the fresh, dulce-filled churros dipped in chocolate, which are available at the Recoleta fair on Saturdays and Sundays.


Matambre

2. Matambre is a stuffed flank steak often served cold as an appetizer. The one we cooked was prepared and wrapped by our neighborhood butcher. It was rolled around carrots, onions, potatoes, a few hard-boiled eggs. Consequently, it looked like a severed limb wrapped tightly in plastic (for freshness!). The flavor was similar to corned beef, but with a more dense texture. Try it after midnight, when you wake up ravenous and still a bit fuzzy from the wine you had in lieu of dinner. One slice straight from the fridge is an excellent restorative.


Alfajores with various tea pastries.

3. Alfajores These small sandwich cookies taste nostalgic, like a part of your childhood you don’t quite remember. The fresh ones collapse in your mouth, giving you more time to ponder the slightly chewy dulce center. Each one is a small moment of peace, so have a cup of tea handy. Buy a few from the bakery on the corner of Santa Fe and Oro.


Mate gourd.

4. Maté A traditional warm beverage made by steeping dried yerba maté leaves. In the afternoons, Argentines gather on balconies and lawn sipping shared cups of maté through bombillas (straws with filters on the ends). I found it bitter and grassy, but soldiered on anyway. Mate is the national drink, and these are the things tourists must do. We are also duty-bound to attend an overwrought tango shows wearing white sneakers, but I digress.

5. Chorizo Stop at every corner carnecería and ask for a bit chorizo. Every butcher has a different take on this deep red pork sausage colored with peppers. For breakfast, fry it with some cubed potato, or add it to an omelet. You’ll find yourself reconsidering your blind allegiance to bacon. If you don’t have a stove, or the inclination to cook for yourself while you’re on vacation, the house chorizo at Don Julio is excellent.

6. Chimichurri This sauce is usually served alongside steak. It’s a mixture of parsley, oregano, garlic, peppers, and vinegar, and is best if prepared fresh. However, many restaurants simply add oil to a dried spice mix. Should you encounter the latter, politely scrape it from your tongue with the side of a fork.

7. Steak As you may already know, the cows in Argentina are grass fed, and their flesh is rich with the happiness of grazing on open hillsides. The steak here is so savory that it connects with the base of your brain, releasing a hormone that makes you instantly indifferent to the plight of cows. Argentine steak is the very best reason to have teeth.

Worth Repeating

Catching up on a year’s worth of old magazine subscriptions. Some snips:

Julie Morgenstern in O Magazine — “If I ran out of time today, what would be the one thing that, completed, would give me the greatest sense of accomplishment and contribution?”

New Yorker Mar. 20 article “Pretty Things,” about Hedi Silmane models — “They seemed in imminent danger of getting laid.”

Dave Grohl in Esquire Nov. 2007 — “Anybody who has to focus on being real has a problem. It’s like having a panic attack over how you’re prone to panic attacks.”