The other night, I was teaching at the women's college and so Monstro had charge of the boy, who wanted to watch Raffi. We only have a Raffi videotape so Monstro had to switch the cables from the DVD to the VCR and set the television accordingly. Whenever this changeover happens, the words “Hi-Fi” appear on-screen.

“Fi,” the boy said.

Monstro wheeled around. “What did you say?”

“Hi-Fi,” said the boy.

Dumbfounded, Monstro pointed and said, “what's that letter?”

“Eff!” he said.

I came home at nine that night. “How old were you when you started reading?” Monstro asked.

“Two-something,” I said. “Why?”

“Because your son can read!” he told me.

Pretty cool new trick, huh? Thank you, Sesame Street!

Oh boy. Thank Christ I'm not single.

Our boy used to answer any question with “No.” Then we'd ask, “Are you sure?” He'd reply, “Okay!”

Now, in order to save time, he's developed some verbal shorthand. “Do you want a waffle for breakfast?” I asked him this morning.

“Nokay,” he said.

Verrrry helpful, that boy of ours.

Our two-year-old is getting cantankerous about things that never used to bother him. He'll fight us pretty hard when we try to put his jacket on. This morning was no exception. A little Mommy-channels-Amy-Winehouse did the trick:

They tried to make me go to preschool,
but I said, “No, no, no.”

Amy Winehouse put in a spectacular performance via satellite at last night's Grammy's, and I could not be happier about that fact. Do you suppose they showed her the Britney VMAs performance as a cautionary tale? Seventeen days sober and man, that girl rocked it. Woo hoo!!! See it for yourself by clicking here.

I have to say, it's great to be teaching again. I am so lucky to be teaching subjects for which I have genuine passion — which isn't to say I wouldn't be happy to teach composition, but teaching media writing and digital photography makes the time go by so quickly! I had my adjunct orientation last week and the woman who ran it wasn't happy to hear I teach each class one day a week, rather than breaking it up. She seemed miffed that my boss let it go through without talking to her about it. Said boss wasn't going to let me do it, but I made a very convincing case for it in both classes, and viola!

I just finished grading the first batch of digital photography photos, and, with one exception, they're better than the first batch I got last year. I'd say they're off to a good start, though some will be surprised I took points off for insufficient captions. Hey, that's what happens when you take photo from a writer. They'll learn, though, they'll learn.

Every weekend, either Friday night or Saturday night, we have six people around our dining room table, basically geeking out and eating food that's generally too rich but never too thin. The first couple of times we hosted (and, as the only couple with a child, we always host, rather than pay a babysitter), I freaked out and spent hours cleaning the house. I've got it down to a mellow routine now, one that I thought I'd share with you:

Step One: get the Ryobi dustbuster and suck away all the cat fur from the hardwood floors in the kitchen, hallway, bathroom, dining room, and living room. I would use our regular vacuum for this, but our regular vacuum doesn't work at all on hardwood or lineoleum. Any tips for a vacuum that does work for these surfaces? I'm all ears.

Step Two: Wipe down all bathroom/toilet/sink surfaces with Lysol disinfecting wipes.

Step Three: Clear off the dining room table and wipe it down with disinfecting wipes.

Step Four: Empty all garbage cans. Ask Monstro to take out the garbage.

Step Five: Empty the dishwasher (having run it earlier in the day) and put the remaining dirty dishes in it.

Step Six: Wipe down kitchen countertops and stove with disinfecting wipe.

Step Seven: Use a lint roller on the upholstered chairs to remove cat fur.

Step Eight: Change out of yoga pants, put on a bra, and welcome guests as they arrive.

Viola! Nothing to it!

…which of the Project Runway Season Four designers showed at New York Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week this morning, this guy did a liveblog of the event: Check it out here.

The book I allude to in yesterday's Project Runway Liveblog is The Book of Ruth by Jane Hamilton. If you see it in the bookstore, even if it is in the remaindered pile, run away! Run away very quickly with your eyes closed, perhaps knocking down bookshelves in your path, to punish the bookseller for displaying such a horrible, horrible book. You should also do this if you see Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All and She's Come Undone.

Don't say I didn't warn you, y'all.

Project Runway: Wrestling Mania. Or maybe it's Jump-the-Shark Mania? It may just be that I'm in a terrible mood because the novel I finished reading 15 minutes ago was resplendent in its worthlessness to humanity.

Ricky pretends like he's not going to stick with his model, but he does. His acting skills are on par with his design skills.

Speaking of resplendent, heeeere's Tim! Time for a field trip.

Omen: We hear shrieks from within the Runway room, and thunder booms outside my window. The door opens and it's a six woman wrestling free-for-all. It's the WWE Divas. Tim rings the bell, climbs into the ring (with difficulty). The ladies introduce themselves and their personal styles. Ricky chooses Layla; Chris chooses Maria; Jillian chooses Michelle; Christian chooses Crystal; Sweet P chooses Candace; Rami chooses Torrie. They are given thirty minutes to consult with their Diva, and then they get 30 minutes and a hundred bucks to spend at (wait for it…) Spandex House! Thank you, Spandex House!

Chris says they're designing “stripper tranny-wear.” SP, Rami, and Jillian look terrified. They'll work till tonight and all day tomorrow. Rami is, no surprise, draping his hot-pink spandex.

DAY TWO: Sweet P is thinking “Pin-up Girl.” Jillian is making a bra top and short-shorts. Chris is going for “caged jungle animal.” SP and Christian arm wrestle; SP cheats. They hug.

In come the Divas for fittings. Chris's is delighted. SP's is not. Tim's concerned about Ricky's choice of orange. Christian's Diva loves the outfit and proposes marriage to him.

SP, Chris, and Christian discuss their wrestling alter-egos in a conversation too stupid for public consumption.

Tim's concerned about Rami's choice of hot pink. Dude, there's 45 minutes left in the last day. What can he do?

Tim thinks SP's is “Eva Gabor in Green Acres.” SP's in tears at the sewing machine.

RUNWAY SHOW-DAY:

SP thinks she's out, which means she isn't. Candace is happier than expected. Ricky's outfit is an orange bathing suit. Jillian's Diva is thrilled, though Jillian is, as always, the last one out the door.

Heidi looks like her dress came from Sparkly Spandex Haus.

The bottom half of Jillian's shorts is missing. Chris wishes he could wear the outfit he made. The judges look charmed by Sweet P's. Rami's is gross and makes his Diva look like a blonde Mack truck.

With all the Divas on the runway, Michael Kors feels “like the Pope at a sex club.” They hate Rami's; they like Christian's and Jillian's. Candace turns on SP on the runway.

They LOVE Chris's. “Looks expensive.”

Nina likes Ricky's as a bathing suit but they all hate the cover-up. They all leave the runway and the judges dish.

Heidi: Ricky missed the boat.

Kors: The tunic looked like a disco haircutting smock.

They bitch about Rami and SP, too.

My prediction: Chris to win, Ricky to lose.

What happened: Chris wins! Ricky loses! No more stoopid hats. Whoot! Christian's all like, “finally!”

They bit