To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
Joc, babe, are you still whining and moaning about the pain of having someone clean your house FOR you? I love you, girl, but… Get. A. Grip.
As for my own housecleaning efforts (done by the sweat of my brow and the grease of my elbow, I might add)…it was for nothing because I was trying to get rid of the garbage smell in my house. I was not trying to clean my house. If I’d known that all that cleaning was still not going to help, I would have saved myself the trouble.
And we did have near-strangers victimized by our olfactory pollution. My DH Tristan had a coworker and her husband over for dinner last night. It wasn’t until after we were done eating that we first noticed the problem. I thought Tristan had forgotten to take out the garbage like I asked him to.
I kept jerking my head toward the kitchen, trying to signal to him that we needed to talk privately. The blockhead. (Whom I love with all my heart, but still…) Totally oblivious.
Carla, his work colleague (who happens to have just been made a partner in his firm—somebody he needs to impress), started sniffing the air. I pretended I wasn’t watching. Then she checked the bottoms of her shoes.
DUH—it wasn’t that kind of smell. Anybody ought to have known that!
Then she leaned over, like she was getting something out of her purse, but I could tell she was smelling under her arms.
Tacky. But it was making me nervous. Something reeked. In my house! And one of the partners of Tristan’s company was definitely noticing it!
I excused myself to the kitchen and checked the garbage can. It had a few scraps in it from fixing dinner, but nothing that smelled. In fact, the kitchen didn’t smell as bad as the family room.
By the time the couple left, both of them looked like they were going to pass out soon from trying not to take any deep breaths. They gave us these tiny frozen smiles and scuttled out of the house. I’m almost certain I heard them both gasping for air before we had barely shut the door.
I am utterly mortified! I spent all day trying to track this down and no such luck!
Tristan apparently has a nearly nonexistent sense of smell. He thinks I’m imagining the whole thing—including Carla’s little sniff-check.
Next on my list—bathing all the kids.
Z
From: P. Lorimer
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
A quote, in your honor, Zelia:
“Something is rotten in the state of Maryland.”—slight paraphrase from Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 4
Seriously, I wouldn’t be overly concerned. I doubt it’s as bad as you think it is. And it might be something outside—like a sewer pipe or your neighbors’ trash cans or something.
Phyllis
From: Zelia Muzuwa
To: P. Lorimer
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
Ack! My own Shakespeare predilection thrown back at me. A perfect example of this:
“Hoist with his own petard.” (Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 4) You want to have a Shakespeare war, girlfriend? I’ll win.
And I’m not overreacting. I know a bad stink when I smell it! And last night after dinner, definitely “there was the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril.” (The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 3, Scene 5)
TOP THAT!
Z
From: Brenna L
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
Oh no! Everyone take cover! The Great Shakespeare Quote War has broken out again! Run for your lives!!! Or as the Bard would say: “Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!”
Brenna
From: Zelia Muzuwa
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
Ah, Brenna… I salute you, Mistress Lindburg. You are truly magnificent. Here’s one for you:
“Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit
Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his breast with magnanimity
And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.”
(King Henry VI Part iii, Act 5, Scene 4)
Z
From: Hannah Farrell
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
That’s NOT a real Shakespeare quote! Shakespeare would never have written about naked…people in his plays! That’s not appropriate to joke about! I studied Romeo and Juliet last year in Senior English, and there wasn’t ONE mention of anything remotely risqué!!!
Hannah
From: P. Lorimer
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
Hannah, out of curiosity…what school did you attend?
From: Hannah Farrell
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
South Carolina Crusading Lambs of God Christian High School. Affectionately knows as SCCLOG. Their academic quality is unsurpassable. I tied for valedictorian with my best friend, Krissy.
Hannah
From: P. Lorimer
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
Ah. Congratulations. And you studied the entire play of Romeo and Juliet? The original, unabridged version?
From: Hannah Farrell
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
Yes, the WHOLE thing! Like I said, SCCLOG is a very advanced school academically. Three of my graduating class even went to college! I was going to go to college, but I met Bradley instead.
Hannah
From: P. Lorimer
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This stinks
Thanks for the clarification. I’m just a little confused. How did you manage to study the entire play Romeo and Juliet and come away with the impression that Shakespeare was NOT in any way risqué?
Did no one ever explain to you the Queen Mab speech, honey?
Phyllis
From: Zelia Muzuwa
To: P. Lorimer
Subject: Be nice!
Down girl! Behave yourself. Lest you bring the wrath of Rosalyn down on all our heads.
Z
From: Hannah Farrell
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: [SAHM I AM] Shakespeare
Hi Phyllis,
I’m SOOO like not confrontational or anything, but Shakespeare happens to be something I know about. I got an A+ in that class!!!
I know all about the Queen Mab speech. Mercutio was talking about a dream fairy, like Tinker Bell or the Sugar Plum Fairy. What’s so risqué about that?
It’s impossible for Shakespeare to have written anything naughty. After all, he wrote hundreds of years ago, when people were a lot more pure-minded and innocent. We all should try to be more like that instead of making inappropriate remarks about things that are immodest.
I’m not trying to be a prude or anything. I mean, after all I AM a married woman! But I love Shakespeare, and I don’t like to see his reputation ruined—especially not on an e-mail list of (mostly) Christian stay-at-home moms! I’m sure William Shakespeare loved Jesus—everyone did back then. He most certainly did NOT write about naked people fencing. I’m very offended by the suggestion and by the images that brings to mind.
I’d like to ask the
loop moderator to bring this topic to a close. It doesn’t even have anything to do with stay-at-home mom stuff!
Hannah
P.S. Zelia, your smelly-house problem reminded me of what happened at my school my junior year. Some boys stuffed some tuna fish sandwiches down the air vents and the whole school smelled like rotten fish for weeks.
From: P. Lorimer
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] Shakespeare
Well, Hannah, it does sound like your English teacher did an interesting job with your education. Here’s a quote in her honor, from As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7:
“And in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm’d
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms.”
Love,
Phyllis
From: Hannah Farrell
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] Shakespeare
I don’t get it. But I heard that you weren’t very good with humor, so that’s probably why.
Hannah
From: Zelia Muzuwa
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This Stinks
Before our Beloved Moderator puts an end to this conversation, I just wanted to let everyone know I found the source of our stink problem. Hannah’s comment about the tuna fish sandwiches at her school gave me an idea.
We live in an older house with old-fashioned air ducts. Big enough for food to be shoved through. I had Tristan check the ductwork when he got home this evening, and sure enough, there’s so much old food rotting in one of the ducts that we could start our own compost pile.
At first, I figured Seamus did it. Almost any trouble in our family is a direct result of that boy. But the duct connects to Duri’s room. Duri is one of the children we adopted from Ethiopia about fifteen months ago. We asked him if he knew anything about the food in the duct, and at first he said no.
We showed him the food. He stared at it like he’d never seen it before. Then he said something about “That’s not my food. I’m saving my food.”
To make a very long story about an even longer, depressing evening short, it comes down to this:
Duri has started hoarding food. He sneaks it to his room and shoves it down the air vent.
I don’t get it! We feed him plenty! And there’s always snacks available. I know he and his sister didn’t have much to eat in the orphanage, but they’ve been with us over a year. Why would he suddenly start doing this?
I don’t think he even knows why. He doesn’t even connect his actions with the pile of food in the duct. He says he’s not hungry, and he has plenty to eat. I don’t think he’s really even aware of what he’s doing.
And to make matters worse, Seamus is mad at me now for accusing him of doing it. And he’s mad because we didn’t punish Duri. But I don’t think Duri was trying to be naughty. It’s not the same, but Seamus doesn’t understand.
I’m going to have to call our doctor in the morning and maybe see about taking Duri to a psychologist. I’m more than a little freaked out. And we’re going to have to get our ducts cleaned out.
But after that—what am I going to do? I don’t want to become the Food Police, but we can’t let him hoard food like that. What if he’d eaten it later? He’d make himself sick.
All right, Ros—you got me. I’m answering your TOTW. Apparently, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MEET MY KIDS’ NEEDS! Otherwise, Duri wouldn’t be stuffing food down the air vents, and Seamus wouldn’t be glaring at me as if I’d betrayed him.
Z
From: Iona James
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] TOTW June 15: Meeting the needs of our children
How can I meet the needs of the Angel Child when I can’t even meet my own needs? The poetry that used to flow from me has been replaced by a steady stream of milk that never seems to satisfy a growing boy. He’s growing—but am I? I feel like the host of a parasite— I’m providing nourishment by having the life sucked from me.
I want to write! I want to create. I know the Angel Child should be my greatest poetry, but it’s a poem that drains me. I need something that will refresh my soul so I can keep giving.
In other news, Francine—the homeless woman we tried to help—has gone back to selling her body to buy meth. She was a stay-at-home mom for over twenty years. And I can’t help but wonder if someday that will be me—used up, empty, hopeless.
Whoa! That’s a thought. In fact, I think it might be a poem! I think I’ll call it “Weaning.” Thank God for dark, depressing thoughts! Life has been way too cheerful recently, and I’ve had absolutely no inspiration.
I must be off to my writing corner. Angel Child is sleeping. Maybe I’ll be extra blessed by him waking up crying. The inner turmoil that creates in me is fantastic for truly tortured emotions!
Iona James
From: Rosalyn Ebberly
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] TOTW June 15: Meeting the needs of our children
Are you INSANE? If you want turmoil and pain, I’ll be glad to send you some from our household. I understand your creative drive, but, dear one—you should be glad your baby is healthy, and that there’s only one “angel child” to drain your energy. You’re not going to end up on the street unless you choose to be there. Can’t you find inspiration in a less masochistic way?
Rosalyn Ebberly
“The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish tears it down with her own hands.” Proverbs 14:1 (NASB)
From: Iona James
To: SAHM I Am
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] TOTW June 15: Meeting the needs of our children
You killed it. You killed my poem. It was there, ready to be poured out on the page in all its raw glory. But now it’s gone, slaughtered by your optimistic good sense. First truly promising burst of inspiration I’ve had in weeks. Dead. My poetry, killed by your happy prose. That’s tragic.
In fact…this might work out even better. How about a song called “When the Poetry Dies”? Ooohhh…thanks, Rosalyn, for the inspiration.
But do not e-mail me again, for at least…a few hours! You’re not depressed and twisted enough. You’ll jeopardize the entire work!
Iona James
From: Rosalyn Ebberly
To: VIM
Subject: Iona
How dare she say I’m not depressed enough! When she’s been through what I’ve been through, THEN let her accuse me of having “optimistic good sense”! And “happy prose”? I’m insulted! I am in a very delicate mental condition. What does she know about it anyway?
Poets and their need for tortured angst. So annoying.
Ros
“The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish tears it down with her own hands.” Proverbs 14:1 (NASB)
From: VIM
To: Rosalyn Ebberly
Subject: Re: Iona
Well, sis, you’re certainly twisted enough.
Veronica
From: Zelia Muzuwa
To: Iona James
Subject: Did you get your song written?
Hey Iona,
I just wanted to see if you got that thing written. If not, don’t read any more of this e-mail because it’s supposed to be encouraging! :)
Listen, I know it’s hard to do creative stuff when the kids are little. I’m an artist, too, not that you’d know it recently. But it sounds like you’re doin
g the right thing—grabbing the time and the inspiration as it comes. It won’t be like this forever. Almost, but not quite forever.
E-mail when you get a chance, okay? I’d love to get to know you better. And you already have a big fan in my friend Phyllis. You should share your poems on the loop sometime.
Hugs,
Z
From: Iona James
To: Zelia Muzuwa
Subject: Re: Did you get your song written?
Dear Zelia,
The song is written. I’m attaching it if you’d like to read it, but please don’t feel obligated. Thank you for the sweet words. It’s been a trying afternoon. I’m sorry to hear about the troubles with your children. Makes my “angst” seem petty—as Rosalyn implied. She was probably right.
I hope nobody thinks I don’t love the Angel Child. I adore him. I just always thought that if we ever did have children, my husband and I would share the load more equally—since neither of us have what anyone would consider a “real” career. But he gets so caught up in his music and in the band that the parenting falls mostly to me. He’s a dreamer, and I don’t know how to wake him up. I love him, too, but I feel alone most of the time. That’s why I joined SAHM I Am. I’m tired of being alone—even if it is good for tragic inspiration. :)
Iona James
From: Zelia Muzuwa
To: Iona James
Subject: Re: Did you get your song written?
I hear you, girlfriend! Listen, Phyllis and I and several other gals have a sort of small loop we post on. The main loop is so big, and we needed a way to connect better (and to gripe about one crazy loop moderator). We also chat every Monday night on the loop Web site. You’re welcome to join us. I’ll include you on the next e-mail we send to each other. We call ourselves “Green Eggs and Ham.” They’re the eggs. I’m the ham. :)
You don’t have to be alone, okay? Not sure how this will affect your creativity, but maybe you can learn to be inspired by happiness, too.
Z
From: Iona James
Play It Again, SAHM Page 5
