Know Your Meme: Meh

Recently, I stated that I was feeling "very meh" in a Facebook status comment. That's not incredibly surprising, as I typically feel meh about a great deal of things. Certainly not blogworthy. It's the response, the only response, to the status that got me.

"Meh? What does this mean?"

O.O God bless her, she's a really kind-hearted person, and was asking in complete honesty. The interweb elves must have missed a few neighborhoods, I guess. But it got me thinking for a moment: how do you qualitatively define something as broadly encompassing as 'meh?' It's like trying to explain the therapeutic benefits of bubble wrap popping or why this is so entertaining. Harder, really...

I guess with something like 'meh,' it'd be easier explaining what it is not. Basically, it's when something (including your mood) is not funny enough to laugh at, not sad enough to frown at, not crazy enough to shout out about, and not urgent enough to warrant getting up and doing something.

For example: imagine someone you are acquainted with lost something trivial. A quarter, let's say. And let's say, for argument's sake, that they have no internal monologue, no concept of cognitive relevancy and no social filter and blurt out to you that they have lost said quarter. What would you do? You probably wouldn't smile or laugh. Even considering this person is one step up from a complete stranger, that's still kind of rude. You probably wouldn't laugh internally either - it's just a quarter, after all. Same reason you wouldn't frown or be sad for his loss, at least not with any degree of sincerity. You likely won't call your best friend/spouse/mom and dad to let them know about this poor, strange schmuck loosing his two bits. Lastly, you're not likely to drop what you're doing (likely much more important than a quarter) to really scour for his missing coin. Oh sure, you might look around your feet for a few seconds, but then you'd probably shrug your shoulders, give him the obligatory "Wow, that sucks" to give that small, if not unenthusiastic, impression of sympathy and be on your way.

And I guess that's really the best definition of 'meh': the verbal equivalent to a shrug of the shoulders.

Ain't Life Grand: Pop and Walk-off

An update on how much of a bitch payback can be:

Clara had a really hard time getting up this morning. I tried the usually gently calling her name and rubbing her back to wake her up, but she just wasn't having any of it. Just when I was about to give up and bodily haul her out of bed, I noticed her corn popper leaning against the post of her bed...

>.>

<.<

>:D

After quietly clearing some of the clutter out of the way, I proceeded to run around her room, pushing the popper and laughing, finally bursting out hysterically just before ramming that damned thing into the bedpost at the head of her bed.

She sat up, glared at me and said, "OK, Daddy. I awake."

Ain't life grand?

Weekend Intelligence: Pop and Walk

Since the daycare and schools were closed for Battle of Flowers, I took that Friday off to spend with the kiddos. Seriously, Texas is looking for ANY reason to close up shop for the day. I wouldn't be surprised if kids will get the first day of school off as a holiday in the near future. LOLs and lack of sleep, BBQs and Corn Poppers: this weekend had it all. And let's not forget the return of this classic tag line: So, in typical weekend intelligence fashion, here are the highlights.

I swear Clara has found a way to break free of the need for sleep. She sleeps maybe 3-4 hours at a time, and then is up for hours. This includes overnight and means she's up well before the crack of dawn most days. D still had to get to work on Friday, and shortly after she left, Clara got up to let me know "Momma gone!" D:! She was upset! I spent the rest of the morning chasing the kids around and generally just trying to keep the house from falling apart. We got a chaotic lunch in with D over near where she works. As crazy as they are, she was happy to see them and get away from work for a few.

We were invited to a Saturday BBQ that one of my wife's coworkers was hosting. After watching Colin school 3 grown adults at Texas Hold 'Em and a massive potty training failure courtesy of Clara, I was voluntold by my lovely wife to go get the grilling started. I didn't mind, really. Truth be told, I get nervous around large groups of people I don't know or don't know very well, and being the 'Grillmeister' at a BBQ is something of a social crutch for me:

• People are prone to be friendly to the cook - something about subconsciously not wanting scorched food.
• I have something to talk about with random people. "So, I see you have a fire there? Yup. Fire sure is hot. Yup."
• I like alcohol, and if there is going to be alcohol, it generally gets to the people around the grill first. See first item in the list.
  
• If everything else fails me, I can just be too absorbed in the act of cooking to really interact with the crowd.

Luckily for me, only the first three of that list applied. People hung out and brought me a beer, we chatted it up and had a great time. Sooo much food, I hear that there was quite the spread of leftovers.

Sunday morning started with a BANG. Literally. See, Clara was doing her "I don't need sleep" thing, and decided that it would be an excellent idea to get her corn popper push toy out at 6 in the morning and start running around the loft with it, laughing maniacally and running into walls and doors.

My door.

Did I mention it was B.F. of early on a Sunday morning? Just making sure. Anyway, she ran headlong into the bedroom door with the corn popper while screaming/laughing at the top of her lungs. And through all of this, D didn't budge an inch. Not even a skip in her snoring. I opened the bedroom door as Clara was backing up and preparing another charge. Very surprised that her unholy ruckus would wake anyone, she took an off step back and fell over. I don't think she'd ever been hauled to her room so quickly. I set her on the changing table and had a few words with her:

"Clara, what is wrong with you?!" I asked in a forceful, yet whispered tone.
"I dunno!" she replied, also whispered.
"Clara, what is Colin doing?"
"Colin sleeping."
"What is mommy doing?"
"Momma sleeping," she said as she started to grin. She liked this game.
"What does daddy wish he could be doing?"
"...sleeping?" she whispered nervously. This one stumped her, apparently.
"THEN WHY AREN'T YOU SLEEPING!?" I asked as loud and forcibly as a whisper would let me.

She jumped down off the table and into bed, I tucked her in and she let me sleep for another hour or so... I figured I'd just go get donuts and start the Sunday Morning routine, then snuggle with D for a bit until it was time to really get up. Didn't work out so well: the whole sleep deprivation thing over the course of several days at the hands of Clara meant I didn't just snuggle, I crashed until 11. Clara cried about something, prompting D to launch from bed in a frenzied panic, going off about how late it was. Suuuuure, NOW she hears Clara... -.-; Somehow, we still managed to salvage the day - did our shopping, got the kids their summer haircuts and knocked some laundry out before calling it a weekend.

I could use a day off to recover from my weekend. A work week will have to suffice, I guess.