Death and taxes

Since the end of the year is approaching, I was doing some research in preparation for filing my 2007 taxes, and I discovered that I can only file as a widow with a dependent child for the first two years after the year in which P died. What the heck? Two years from now, P will still be dead, and G, at age 10, will be highly unlikely to have a job, so it stands to reason that I'll still be a widow with a dependent child. To everyone but the IRS, that is. I'm sure they've got some sort of statistics in hand that show I'm supposed to be remarried within three years, and therefore not in need of a separate filing status, but that isn't going to do me much good when the time to file for 2009 rolls around.

In book news, I'm finally reading The Golden Compass. I've only just started it -- I think I might have finished the first chapter before I fell asleep on G's bed. (She was also reading, and I woke up just long enough to tell her to put down her book and turn off the light. I don't know what time that was, but it must have been late, because she was not happy about getting up this morning.) It seems interesting so far, although I'm having a hard time controlling my usual reaction to a heavily hyped book, which is to focus on the mechanics of the writing to the point where I can't enjoy the story. One thing I really like is how Pullman just jumps in and starts telling the story without feeling the need to explain too much about the universe -- why everyone has a daemon, what they are, blah blah.

G, for her part, is anxiously awaiting the arrival of her replacement copy of Screaming Mummies of the Pharoah's Tomb II, which is part of the Bunnicula series. It's her favorite book right now, so there was much drama when, over the weekend, one of the cats threw up on her original copy. I heard a scream of "No, Catherine! Nooooooo!" and the next thing I knew, G was howling and Catherine was standing over the befouled book, licking her lips and looking slightly puzzled in the way that cats always do when they've just been sick. ("What? You say that came out of me? Astounding!")

The culprit:



The book:



Luckily for G, I had just gotten a very generous Amazon gift certificate for my birthday, so I was able to order her another copy as soon as I had gingerly picked up and discarded the puked-on one. She was so outraged that I even threw in the two books in the series she hasn't already got as a consolation prize. She still maintains that Catherine did it on purpose, although I keep trying to tell her that it wasn't premeditated and the book just happened to be in the line of fire, so to speak. Or maybe Catherine didn't like the picture of the dog on the cover. Who knows?