We'll always have awkward laughter

So on the phone the other day, The Archaeologist suggested that my near solitude may be affecting my sense of humor. He's been up in the mountains for 1-2 weeks at a time, coming home for 2-3 days and then heading back up. I watch The Daily Show now and then to keep informed on U.S. current events, and had hoped that as a by-product, my gauge for what's funny would also be up-to-date. Apparently not (though I in no way blame Jon Stewart). After finishing what I had thought was a funny story, The Archaeologist kind of laughed, but I'm pretty sure it was solely meant as a leavening lead-in for the above comment. Upon quick reflection, I consented that yeah, the story wasn't actually that funny and laughed at what was now funny - me. But I figured the situation couldn't be that dire if I could so quickly realize that I strayed. I wasn't in denial - no intervention necessary - just a simple outside observation to set me straight.

Then today Half-O was watching some YouTube videos of classic sesame street and animated songs meant to teach her the letter sounds while I read an e-book on the other side of the screen. When her video ended, I saw a link to a video entitled "Flashcards for Kids...", and thought Half-O might find it both interesting and informative, so I clicked on it. After about 30 seconds I was dying laughing.

Have I lost it? Is this funny? It's been viewed a ton, so I thought maybe it had been one of those viral videos that lots of people found funny, but all the comments talked about how much their kid liked it - and to be honest, Half-O did like it (though not for the whole 7 min). But seriously, tell me if this is funny:

If you can make it to 2:29, you get George Michael.

Now, I don't find it the most hilarious thing ever, but if you just clicked on it looking for another educational distraction for your child, you'd laugh too, wouldn't you? The background music is awesome (Striesand's Woman in Love??), and a lot of the words unintentionally (I assume) come out sounding sarcastic/mocking/chiding.

But please - what do you think?

Her Father's Daughter

A story:
When The Archaeologist first left for the mountains, Half-O and I decided to entertain ourselves with a trip to the zoo (it's a pretty cool zoo, but we'll save that for another post). While at the zoo, I misjudged the wetness of the dirt/mud in front of the tiger cage (eager to get us a good view of the huge pacing cat) and subsequently ended up with stroller wheels and red mules encased in sticky mud. Upon realizing the extent of the caking, I let out an "oh, shoot". Half-O saw the mud-covered wheels, heard my "oh, shoot" and thought it all hilarious. She mimicked the "oh, shoot" and laughed and laughed. When she noticed me trying to scrape my shoes off on a step, she said "oh, shoot" and laughed again. As I'd periodically try to dislodge the chunks of mud from the stroller wheels, she'd repeat "oh, shoot" and laugh some more. This continued for much of our zoo day with an encore performance when I hosed off the wheels at home. But while we were still at the zoo, and my annoyance at the mud began to extend to my daughter, I found it was an all too familiar feeling. Had he been there, The Archaeologist would have found it equally hilarious. He too would have recommenced with the laughter at each recollection. Though "oh, shoot" may not have caught his fancy, previous exclamations have, and he too appeared to enjoy repeating them at the launch of each laughfest. So, somewhere not too far from the tiger, I told Half-O that she was her father's daughter. She liked that, and she repeated it almost as much as "oh, shoot".

But that, of course, she gets from me: in addition to our zoo trip, we ate tuna patties and listened to Neil Diamond that weekend.

Happy Father's Day to The Magnificent Archaeologist and to my Fabulous Father as well! Half-O and I are two of the luckiest ladies around.

Emerging Patterns

Half-O and I have fallen into a bit of a routine. Each morning, after we've awakened, had some milk, and read a book or two ...or the same book a few times, we put on our shoes and head down the street for these:

and these:

and these:


We get 2-3 avocados, 12 or so rolls, and a bunch of bananas. All of this:

cost less than $2. The rolls are delicious - they're crusty like good baguettes. The avocados are like butter - no smooshing required; you can just spread them right onto the rolls. The bananas are good as well ...I don't know that there's a wide spectrum for bananas.

Then Half-O matches me sandwich for sandwich.


Afterwards, we sweep - partly because crumbs are everywhere, but also because Half-O has discovered a love for sweeping (let's hope it endures).


Next I start a load of laundry and do the dishes from the night before while Half-O places her lego animals on the window sill (sorry - I forgot to get a picture of this) and watches the action on the street - or foregoes that to make a general mess of the place.

Turns out that hanging the laundry on clotheslines in the sun makes the chore surprisingly more enjoyable for me - some sort of Peruvian pastoral. Initially Half-O will help by handing me pieces to hang, but is soon distracted by lines of ants on the brick wall or clovers in the grass or putting a bucket on her head (sorry, I should have a picture of that too, but was too concerned about her running into a wall or falling on the cement to run and grab the camera).

We eat more sandwiches. Half-O takes a nap. We have a post-nap banana in the backyard shade.

That's as far as the pattern goes. Late afternoons and evenings are less predictable.

But today was different. Today I got to cash in on my postponed birthday. So after milk, I deposited Half-O in The Archaeologist's care and went back to bed for a couple hours. It was wonderful. I am a morning sleeper, but since being pregnant - plus the years of working prior to that - I haven't been able to sleep in much. It was very depressing to realize that I would rarely be able to sleep in again - to realize that adults are rarely able to sleep in - to realize that I'm an adult. But when you've got an awesome Archaeologist, there's respite.

Speaking of The Archaeologist - and speaking of patterns - I've noticed that being around The Archaeologist is especially fun and joyous just after he's completed a paper (yeah - I don't think I'll win any awards for that observation). On our way to Miraflores this evening (where we'd be eating my birthday dinner at Calle de Pizzas because he knows how much I like pizza), he was cracking me up. He commented on how tan I've gotten since we've been here, and I mentioned that he actually looked pretty tan as well (I have olive skin and tan easily; he does not). He scoffed at that, and replied that he looked like a Scotsman who's been slapped around.