A Friend to Comb my Hair

I debated about whether to blog this, because, ew.

We had lice.

If we have seen you recently, and you are itchy. We're sorry.

Virginia said her head itched this summer and I checked her for lice every time she mentioned it. But it wasn't until after we moved and I was doing her hair one morning that I actually saw a couple of the little buggers. Le sigh. Because just moving to a new city and starting a PhD program wasn't enough to worry about.

Lice suck. We bought some of the noxious shampoo (didn't use any on Horatio) and began the tedious daily process of nit picking with lice combs.

My kids don't have tons of hair, so combing their little heads hasn't been the worst thing ever. But then there is my hair. Thick, long, and unaccustomed to having each strand forced apart. (Hello frizz.)

And you're not supposed to just comb the hair. You are supposed to examine the scalp for lice and nits. I can't see my own head. I asked John if he would comb my hair and he said, "It's so long...."

It reminded me of "I Claudius." Early in the series, Tiberius is in the bath with his brother. (It's a Roman bath.) They have the following conversation:

Drusus: A man should keep himself clean, not have slaves do it.
Tiberius: And how's he supposed to scrape his own back?
Drusus: He gets his brother to do it.
Tiberius: If he hasn't got a brother?
Drusus: He gets his son.
Tiberius: If he hasn't got a son?
Drusus: Gets his friend.
Tiberius: And if he hasn't got a friend?
Drusus: Then he should go and hang himself.
Tiberius: I've tried it. Better to have a slave scrape your back. 

[The Romans would put oil on themselves and scrape it off to clean - if you're wondering about the whole back-scraping thing.]

We've just moved away from everyone. I don't have a sister here to comb my head. My daughter is too young. I don't have a close enough friend here yet.

Don't worry, I'm not considering hanging or slavery. Just hoping I can avoid becoming Emperor of Rome.

North Carolina

I don't really know what to say about moving to North Carolina. So, here are some pictures. 

Graffiti seen along a walking/biking trail that leads from near our house to some shops and restaurants. Maybe I can use it in my dissertation. I expect to be referencing McLuhan.

The breakfast table. Notice the kids drinking tea out of tiny mugs.

My school!

I have claimed some desk space in the dungeon. It is where I spend pretty much all of the time I'm not in class.

Train tracks near the house. We hear the train sometimes and have seen it parked down this way.

Our front door.

There are edible things growing in the back yard!

Look for the tiny green tomato.

Neighbor/stray cat leaves paw prints on my car. :3

I finally gave in to the kids sleeping in my bed last night. John has been back in Georgia for a couple days and they were scared/not sleepy/missing Daddy.

Fading Horatioisms and Electra

Horatio is making a real effort to speak better. It is amazing to watch and I'm so proud of his development, but also, I miss his cute mispronunciations and misnomers.

Most notably, he has almost completely stopped calling Virginia "Mine." She is "Ginya" instead. It started about a week ago. At first he alternated the two names, but now she is usually "Ginya" or "My Ginya."

Then, this weekend he said "boo-nana." Instead of "nana."

On our most recent trip to and from Georgia (...since the move to NC. I know I'm not doing a good job of actually blogging what is happening in my life) we listened to a playlist I created of all my storytelling CDs. The playlist just covered the round trip. One of the stories we heard (which I had not heard before) was Jay O'Callahan's "Electra."

We have started joking about the odd neighbor from his story who would ask her dog, "Why does one bark, Bones?"

What if we talked to Socrates that way?

"Why does one meow, Socrates? Why does one climb the door frames? Why does one destroy cardboard boxes? Why does one chew plastic bags?"

But most importantly, "Why does one lick one's own butt?"

Oh woe is me, my children will not be tiny and cute for much longer. And the chorus says, "Woman up, Electra."