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I just finished a near 3 hour meeting with people from the National Association for the Self Employed. The meeting was incredibly useful informationally. I know a lot more about how the health insurance industry works I’m also pretty convinced that joining NASE is exactly what will fill our family’s needs as we go forward with self employment. We signed up and submited an application to their healthcare program. According to the salesman our odds of being accepted are actually pretty good, because, while our health history has had some really expensive moments, nothing is chronic or likely to happen again.

It is all starting to fit together in my head. Health insurance. Life insurance. Retirement accounts. I’m starting to see how all of it will work in our post-Novell world.

I need to find a good source for fabric. I’ve got lots of sewing projects brewing in my brain, but lack the resources to bring them to fruition. Obviously fabric stores will be quite happy to sell me anything I might need, but they aren’t interesting in providing things cheap or free. See its all part of this new game that I play: “How can I make beautiful and useful things for as little money as possible?”

I suspect that when I truly NEED fabric for things, I’ll find it. Right now though we don’t really need much. Just today I considered taking a child free hour to go to some second hand stores when realized that there wasn’t anything that I really needed. I’d only be using up gas and putting myself into temptation’s path. Instead I used the time to read a good book.

So I guess I’ll take the patient approach and wait to see what opportunities to make beautiful things come to me.

I was in the depths focused bookeeping when Howard called out “Clean up on Child Four!” I looked up and as soon as my brain detangled from numbers enough to decipher what Howard had actually said I busted out laughing. Patches was indeed in need of a clean up. He’d obviously been rolling in our pile of lawn clippings because he had grass everywhere. Since he’d had a post-halloween sucker this morning and a runny nose, much of the grass was stuck. Patches seemed rather bewildered with all the grass and parental attention. But he thought getting to run around in just diapers while mommy found clean clothes was pretty cool. Time to do laundry again.

I’ve been reading a book which is basically a Sleeping Beauty variant. Generally I really enjoy a well done rewrite of a fairy tale, but this time something keeps bugging me and I figure if I write about it in here I’ll purge it from my brain and be able to enjoy the rest of the book.

Why did the parents send away their daughter?

Supposedly sending the baby girl away keeps her safer from the evil which cast a spell on her. But it also deprives both parents and daughter of all meaninful contact during all of her childhood years. Suppose the daughter is kept completely safe and is returned to her parents at age 16. Yay, the spell has been defeated, but daughter and parents are left with no real relationship and no way to make up for lost time. Now suppose that the spell comes into full force when the daughter is 10 and she dies. The parents have been deprived of what might have been 10 years of enjoying the company of their daughter.

Maybe it is because I’m a controlling parent, but I would have a really hard time handing over my daughter. I wouldn’t believe that anyone else could do as good a job as I would raising her and keeping her safe. I would find a solution which allowed me to keep her as safe as possible while still being the one who raises her.

And as soon as I finished writing the above I started thinking about the courage of birth parents who give up their babies to adoptive parents. In essence the dilemma of Sleeping Beauty’s parents happens every day. Every day there is a young mother who looks down at her beloved child and knows she must give the child up to strangers so that the child will have a better future. And these young birth mothers have no promise that the child will every come back, not at 16 or 18 or ever. Such courage puts me into awe. I don’t know that I could be so noble. Especially not if it required me to hand over one of my children.

I had a really wierd moment the other day where Patches did something really cute which made me think of Baby Schlock. Very strange.

The Chaos of Candy which is called Halloween officially began today. Because of the teachers’ convention which begins tomorrow, today was the last day of school in October and therefore costume & party day. I helped out for the party in Kiki’s classroom. Gleek and Patches came along too because in a room full of sugar-high fourthgraders the amount of chaos they added was negligible. This should tell you something about the experience.

All of the kids were in costume. Lots of cute. Some cute trying to be scary. Some grubby trying to be cute. But the most frightening costumes of all were the young girls dressed up as Paris Hilton. Creepy.

Tonight was also our church Halloween Carnival. The teens put on Carnival games for the younger kids. Prizes and candy are handed out like . . . well . . candy. My kids love this annual event. Even Patches loved it. He kept coming to me yelling “Canny!” with his fist around some treasure and then demanding “Op-en!”

We brought them home wired & tired with buckets full of candy. We then sorted through it. They each got to keep 10 pieces of candy and I bought the rest from them. This way I don’t have to make extra trips to the store. The kids get enough candy to be happy and money with which they can buy something else. And no one gets sick. (we hope) This ritual has become an accepted part of the holiday and will be repeated after trick-or-treating.

For tonight they’re all abed. Tomorrow I don’t have to make them get up early. I don’t have to make them get ready for school. I don’t have to make lunches. I think I like days off as much as the kids do. By Tuesday I’ll be ready to have them go back, but a few days break will be nice.

I’ve been pondering lately whether the quality of my Live Journal has suffered lately. Quantity has measurably fallen off, that is obvious, but has the shift in my lifestyle affected my ability to write?

To answer my own question, no I don’t believe the ability is affected at all, but my motivations are different and that has to come through in my writing or lack thereof. On the other hand the principles around which I base my life haven’t changed at all and so any changes in me are surface changes therefore not affecting my writing.

Gah. I can’t be my own observer. Sometimes I wish I could. Mostly I think what a bad idea it would be if I could observe myself objectively. I’d spend all my time observing and studying. I’d never get anything actually done.

Those are just idle, tired thoughts anyway.

The Day of Vomit failed to materialize. Apparently it was upset tummy rather than stomach flu. This qualifies as really good news. I already have more stomach flu stories than anyone could want to hear.

Much of today was frittered away at popcap.com where they have addictive little games to get hooked on. Insaniaquarium caught me in it’s clutches and now when I close my eyes I see fish and coins and stars. I need to go to bed. Tomorrow is the Day of the Halloween Parties because the kids have the rest of the week off and the church party is scheduled for the same day. Sugar highs and crankies incoming. Possibly more vomit too. Whee?

Gleek and Patches share a room. This means that in order to avoid them playing and keeping each other awake I frequently put Gleek to sleep in my bed and move her after both kids are sleeping.

Tonight as I picked up Gleek to move her, she made a funny grunting noise. I got her into her bed, tucked her in, and then heard that sickening “Hoooork” which means I now have vomit to clean up. Hot Chocolate & noodles. Whee.

I’ve changed sheets and sponged mattress, pillow, & carpet. I’ve re-made the bed and tucked Gleek back into it with a pot handy. Now I’ve got to put Patches back to bed since the noise woke him up. And I’m contemplating the fact that earlier this evening Patches told me that his tummy is Owie.

Loads of laundry incoming.