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file under s for strange (or skin tag)

Ever since he discovered them during a wrestling match a month or so ago, Jack has been fascinated by the two skin tags clinging to the outside periphery of my right armpit. The other night I agreed to let him cut them off. What? Why would he want to anyway? At my direction he got the cuticle scissors and a Kleenex to stop whatever bleeding there might be. After two unsuccessful and painful tries, I bade him turn the scissors over so the blade curved against my skin, rather than away from it. He cut off the little one first, then the big one. The big one he rolled between his fingers like a booger, than deposited it in a carefully crafted paper towel envelope. The next morning I threw it away, but then fished it out of the trash when he threw a fit.

What's up with that? I mean, I'm glad to be rid of those freaky little blemishes without paying a doctor to do the surgery, but why was Jack so interested? And why did he insist on saving the big one?

Last night I threw it away again. We'll see what happens.


At the advice of a friend, I tied a string around a skin tag on my armpit, and it fell off in one day. Only really I used a piece of waxed dental floss, because string was too wobbly to manipulate. It worked. I've been meaning to draw a cartoon of the process.

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wotd: temporize

temporize \TEM-puh-ryz\, intransitive verb:
1. To be indecisive or evasive in order to gain time or delay action.
2. To comply with the time or occasion; to yield to prevailing opinion or circumstances.
3. To engage in discussions or negotiations so as to gain time (usually followed by 'with').
4. To come to terms (usually followed by 'with').

It's easy to tell yourself that you'll write a daily blog entry using the word of the day from dictionary(dot)com as a prompt, and equally easy to temporize your daily entry by waffling over what to write about, or evading your obligation by procrastination. There. Bedtime.

expanding my culinary horizons

After last night's culinary debacle, today's culinary surprise was particularly welcome. My dear friend Rukmi brought me lunch! Rukmi is Sri Lankan. She cooks the best food. I ate a fish and egg croquette, lentil curry, saffron rice, all with delicious chicken and what I thought might be tuna. I asked Rukmi what the meat was, and she told me it's all chicken. "The flat, triangular meat? With the spices? Is it tuna?"

She laughed lightly. "That's a wegetable," she said, in her lovely Sinhalese way.

"Oh, yeah? Like a beet?" That made sense, because it flaked like tuna steak or like beets might.

"It is jackfruit."

Jackfruit? Jackfruit! I ate jackfruit today. Rukmi told me all about it: she used canned young jackfruit she bought at G & L Market on 22nd St.; fully grown jackfruits are gigantic and if one fell on your head it could kill you. When fully ripe, jackfruit is full of big pods that each have a seed in the middle, like a po…
Jack doesn't have many "activities." I don't relish the thought of driving him to soccer, piano lessons, gymnastics, tae kwon do, KidzArt, swim team, T-ball, so on, and so forth. Not to say that I don't recognize the value of these activities, but I witness firsthand the toll a full schedule takes on little ones. On Monday nights Jack and his cousin participate in Young Champions of America Karate, which is more about learning discipline, respect, and self defense than it is about martial arts.

Recently we've picked up a new activity, which is also about learning discipline, respect, and creativity: Tucson Lego Club.

He was invited to join by Nathan and Lucas, friends from church who also attended the preschool a few years ahead of Jack. Here he sits between them, at a table surrounded by 6 other boys, each of them building a lavish Lego creation.

Members spend an hour building and fraternizing, sometimes more fraternizing than building, but at the end of the h…