Since I haven't posted in awhile, a few random thoughts. Such as, this was an actual conversation I had this morning: "Mama! This doesn't work!" "I know. That's because you broke it."

Really, I am operating at a high level here. Of course, that could be because I'm facing my midterm exam in my graduate comm theory course. Here are the take-home test questions:

1. Compare and contrast two of the seven traditions [of communication theory]. Explain systematically the traditions, key concepts and applications. Describe advantages and disadvantages of applying the traditions, i.e., what questions will be answered per tradition, what aspects will not be examined, what will be revealed, etc.? Provide examples or proposed case studies to support or illustrate positions or concepts.

2. Identify two to four theories/perspectives discussed thus far in the readings that you find most useful, most insightful, most informative from your perspective about the nature of human communication. They may be within one “tradition” or across “traditions.” I would assume the theories selected address issues of most concern to you as a scholar of human communication. What specific questions would these theories address? Again, please provide examples or case study to illustrate perspectives.

Me, reading through, brow furrowed. "Huh." Re-read. "Right." Type e-mail to professor: "I think I'm going to need to ask a few questions about this exam..." So, hopefully, I will be slightly more elucidated after today. Otherwise, I'll be typing 16 pages of bullshit. Which is nothing new, really.

In other exciting news, I have been living with a pirate for the past few weeks. Because yes, even though that's what she was last year, A is determined to be a pirate again this year for Halloween. I hope this isn't an early preview as to her career interests. (Lawyer? Loan shark?) At least I got her a different costume (although to me, it looks more like she's a gypsy, but hey) which is good, because she periodically strips down and asks us to put it on her. The funny part is that T had the great idea (and no, I'm not being facetious) to get out a pirate game we have (and no, not THAT kind) that we never play. The whole thing comes in a real wooden chest and has a fake cloth map and fake (I assume) gold dubloons and fake (this, I know) diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. It's pretty cool--I'll even volunteer to play pirate if I get to have some of the treasure. Which A is very good about sharing, mind you (and much to my surprise). A few amusing things,though. When she was first explaining what treasures she had, she said, "gold coins, rubies, and maxes!" And she didn't get why I started laughing, poor thing. Also, she can't say sapphires, so she calls them "pacifiers." Why not. Finally, she was showing us where on the pirate map we lived and we said, "But where do you live?" and she said, "I live at WalMart." Um... ha ha?

She has also reached the streaking stage. Which I happen to think is pretty funny, especially because she'll run through the house giggling, "naked baby coming through!" T, however, is not as amused because he thinks it makes her look like a redneck. Whatever, he has issues.

And finally, I've realized that not only do I barely register them anymore, I also have cause to be grateful for the toys that beep and whir and sing. You see, when T is gone, A is alone downstairs while I get ready for work. She's ostensibly watching television but is really doing, well, whatever it is she does. But as long as I can hear Thomas the Tank clacking along or the discordant songs from the Loving Family Car or the steady thump-thump-thump as she hammers... something, I can track her, much like a hunter in the wild. But when I can't, heaven only knows what she's up to. Case in point: This morning, I suddenly realized that, Blue's Clues aside, there was only silence, which any parent knows is something to fear, not embrace. So, "What are you doing down there?" Continued silence. I walked to the head of the stairs and bellowed it more loudly. Finally, "Nothing." Ooh, bad sign if she's lying about it. "No, really, what are you doing?" "Just holding this orange feather." I blinked. "What orange feather?" "The orange feather I got off the table." Now, as far as I know, there are no orange feathers in our house, nor should there be. Clomp, clomp, clomp downstairs...

Turns out there was no orange feather, which is good, but that she was just messing with me. Which is bad. Very bad. This living at WalMart idea might have some merits after all.