Excellent advice about lice.

Although Quinoa Week 2009 should be over, it isn't. Maybe I'll rename it: The Daily Digress, The Quinoa Period. It ain't over until the skinny lady gets her dessert and she wants dessert made with quinoa, which she attempted to make the other night after rolling in from Goatfeathers, announcing that she was "halfway to drunk" and that she "might as well bring it," as she grabbed a half-empty bottle of prosecco from the fridge.

The dessert was okay, but the texture wasn't quite what she imagined, so you will just have to wait. You'll have to wait a while, too, because I'm in Charleston for Fashion Week - covering it for my other blog - where I had an amazing dinner alone at the bar at La Fourchette last night. Well, not quite alone as the waitstaff and Chef Perig* kept me company. Goshdarnit, do I ever love that place.

Anyhow, so I don't want to talk about the quinoa right this second. I want to tell you something I remembered the other day while discussing lice with my friends. As mothers of young children, we find lice to be a very real threat. My children have yet to contract the vile little creatures, thanks to their buzz cuts or dumb luck. Who knows? I, on the other hand, remember having lice once as a child and the endless hours my mother had to spend removing all traces of them from my head with a fine-toothed comb. Many years ago, I was a guardian ad litem (now referred to as Court-Appointed Special Advocate.) My purpose was to represent a child's interests when they were involved in a court case. Predictably, a lot of parents took every chance they got to tattle on the other parent and make them out to be the devil. In some cases, the other parent was the devil. In one case, the father wanted his ex's rights terminated because she jerked her daughter's arm when the daughter tried to escape lice-hunting activities.

Have you ever tried to de-louse a seven-year-old? After a long day at work? With your mother, the child's adoring grandmother, watching your every move? And, oh yeah, let's say the kid is a little bit hyper on a good day. I can't imagine how un-fun this would be for the would-be de-louser. I would rather stick a fork in my eye than be that woman. Arm-jerking after an hour of trying and failing to complete the process is probably the least of what I would do. Actually, I would scream at my husband, make him do it and leave for Charlotte or Charleston for a few days. But this woman didn't exactly have those options, so arm-jerking it was. Didn't even cause an injury. Pshaw. So, when I had lice, the de-lousing fell to my mother.

Dear Mother,

I know your temper, because I have it. And, should one of my darling yet often filthy offspring ever contract lice, I plan to do exactly what you did to get them to sit still. Do you even remember this? It was brilliant, inspired even. You showed me a picture of a louse in the encyclopedia, blown up about a million times. It looked like a monster. You gave some estimate of how many monsters such as this one were living on my head, even though just one or two would have sufficed. After that, if you had told me the only way to drive them out was by lighting my head on fire, I would have done it. I still shudder. You are a genius and I need to remember to always seek your counsel when I have a parenting dilemma. Just don't give me advice, unless I ask. That never turns out pretty, now does it? Actually, you're pretty good about that. Most of the time.

Love,
Me

P.S. What are you doing for Easter dinner? Are we invited? We'll actually be in town this year. I will order and bring a spiral ham from Simply Savory if you'll let me. Call me!

Namasté, y'all!

* I did take food pictures, of course. They'll be on my other blog. The beet salad was afrigginmazing.