Brain Stew

It's funny how I thought that being a stay-at-home-mom would give me more time to blog. But alas, I was wrong. So I must take this opportunity to throw out some stuff that's been stewing in my head since my last post (which I started writing 1/19 and JUST got around to posting!!):

• For some reason, most public restrooms don't have toilet seat covers. Ugh.

• One day, when AC first moved to the Bay Area, we were heading to the City. It was an autumn day, which means that even though the sun is out, there's a nip in the air, especially in the City. But AC refused to believe me. So he left in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts. Needless to say, he learned his lesson. But obviously I didn't, because twice I've looked out and seen the sun shining brilliantly and told little Artie, "we're going to the playground today!" But as soon as we get outside, it turns into a 5- to 10-minute brisk walk around the playground because the wind is blowing and I've forgotten that I'm watching the sun from the comfort of our 68-degree apartment. So when AC asked me what I think of our move so far, I say I can't answer that yet because the weather is clouding my judgment. (And if we base it on the weather, I HATE IT. It's too cold to take the little one out sightseeing via public transportation. And I'm a cold person by nature, so this weather kills me. Sometimes even with the heater on I still sleep in my robe for extra warmth.)
• Up until recently, I was having nightmares about our move. The basic premise of my nightmares was the same: I had to be out of someplace by a certain time, whether it be my office/desk or our apartment. Our move was that bad. I can't talk about it yet without still getting riled up.
  
• We live in the same city as the NECCO headquarters. Did you know that NECCO = New England Confectionery Company?
• The upstairs neighbors sound like they are running a Bela Karolyi camp. You can hear 1 or 2 kids jumping and running around, sometimes as late as 11:30PM. But I can also hear frequent crying and angry stomping (like an adult angrily stomping). And one day AC came into the bedroom and said it sounded like a kid was getting "beat down" (as in disciplined hard) upstairs. So now I'm convinced that there is child abuse going on. Sometimes I lay awake composing a letter to the authorities in my head. But then I wonder if I'm overreacting. One day I took the elevator up there on our way home and walked slowly past the apartment but I couldn't hear anything.
  
• I've started cooking. Yes, ME. The one whose greatest cooking accomplishment was a perfect steamed artichoke and steamed rice in the rice cooker. (The latter is what I made for AC the first time he came over to my place. Just rice.) So far I've become a pro at stir fry, but I've tried other recipes too, which AC has praised. That means a lot, coming from a great chef like him. :)