the blue door

2009-08-28T23:23:00.003-05:00

There are milestones that occur in a child's life that are never covered by the pediatrician, and we experienced one of them tonight: the sleepover. Now, Lil' Puddin' Tater is nowhere NEAR ready to spend the night at a friend's house. But when she and the little girl next door came to me after playing for a couple hours and informed me that "Hey! Guess what! J can sleep over!" my stomach did a little flutter and I realized (perhaps even more than her first day of school) that my wee one, my first born, is growing up.

Of course, she being my first born, my Lil' Puddin' Tater, I should have known that the evening would not go as I planned. Everything began well enough, with the requisite pizza for dinner, then playing, then a movie before going to bed. We made up the couch in gnome sheets, with a girl at each end and lots of fluffy covers. We made popcorn, and I had to tell them a thousand times to be quiet. I went into my bedroom and told D that the midgets in the living room were to be sleeping in 45 minutes. Deviance from this would be acceptable (I'm not some wretched mother) as long as they stayed on the couch. Talking, giggling, etc. were all acceptable behaviors.

Then the shit hit the fan, and I feel like a tool for being blindsided by it. Ok, first a little background: Friday nights are "Girls' Night" in the house with the blue door. Midget 2.0 goes to bed, D is working or out with friends, and LPT and I stay up late and watch cartoons (Ok, we watch Hannah Montana.) and give each other manicures and pedicures and make popcorn and talk. Most importantly, LPT is permitted to sleep in our bed, and D sleeps in hers. It is truly a Girls' Night. In the morning, we all make cinnamon rolls together and bask in the glow of momentarily being a picture-perfect family.

Anyway, when the time came for LPT to actually sleep, she kind of flipped out and wanted to sleep with me. D told her no, that she had a guest and that they could either sleep on the couch or they could go upstairs and sleep in her room. LPT started crying, quietly. I had no clue any of this was going on (maybe I dozed off?) but I heard them go up the stairs. I thought that the girls had gotten up and were going to play. I yelled "Lil' Puddin' Tater?" up the stairs. This was not the correct thing to do. LPT realized that Mom was awake and could save her from mean ol' Dad. So she really loses her shit and cries even harder, and then the inevitable happens. She coughs, then pukes on the floor of her room 4 times. At that point, I hauled her into the bathroom, where she threw up again, in the toilet. D took J home and I got LPT in the tub because she had vomit all up in her hair.

Yes, I hate cleaning up puke. Yes, it still reeks up there. (washing the room down with vinegar is tomorrow) And as soon as I had everything cleaned up and had successfully gotten LPT to sleep (7 minutes! a new record!) and had gotten back into my bed with a book, Midget 2.0 realized that it was his turn. Luckily, that was a brief and not-stinky endeavor. But there's a part of me that is a little bit happy that LPT isn't quite ready for sleepovers yet. I get to hold on to my girl for a while longer.

AND! Reading Rainbow, one of the staples of my childhood and near the top of my list of Favorite Kid Shows, is over. Let's sing the song one last time, and I know that you all know the words:

2009-08-27T12:39:00.002-05:00

I have decided that I'm going to "go green" with my lunches. I found a tutorial to make reusable snack bags here (why can't I reuse regular snack bags, you ask? Because they're thin and they rip and then it's just not worth it, and by that point I'm so frustrated I just need to sit down with a drink.) THEN I found a tutorial for a reusable sandwich wrap and got all excited. I'll post pics if I actually get around to making them. (I know myself. There have been plenty of things I was dying to make that are not in existence.) I'll also post a pic of Lil' Puddin' Tater exhibiting her disapproval of said bags and wraps. She's turned into a teenager at the age of 5, and she can be (forgive me) quite bitchy at times. Oy. And no comments about her being just like her mother, thankyouverymuch.

Going out for the best food ever tonight with the ladies. Mmmm mojito.

2009-08-24T10:19:00.003-05:00

It's fall here. Granted, it will be 81 degrees this afternoon, but the mornings are definitely fall. I actually had to turn off the fan in my office because I was cold. Do you realize how rare this is? I don't get cold. Ever. Usually I sweat.
But! The arrival of the autumnal winds means that there are events on the horizon that will be absolutely gobs of fun: The Light the Night Walk (to benefit the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society), the St. James Art Fair (everything is incredibly expensive, but it's a lovely walk through Old Louisville and St. James Court), A's bridal shower and subsequent wedding! Of course, after that we're thrust head on into The Holiday Season and my head begins ramping up to it's inevitable explosion, usually occurring somewhere around Christmas Eve. This year, though, I get to add the task of providing snacks for Lil' Puddin' Tater's class the week before school lets out for winter break. So, let's see: 26 kids x 5 = 130 little foodstuffs and juice boxes. Jeebus.

Speaking of school, today was amazing. Last week, I was still walking Lil' Puddin' Tater into her classroom, a habit frowned upon by the administration, and rightly so: the kids get more worked up the the farther into the school the parents go. On Thursday, I spent 25 minutes trying to calm Lil' Puddin' Tater down enough to go in and sit down. Now, I am not one of those parents who "need" to leave but then continue to say goodbye for an hour, and secretly love it when the kids flip out. No. However, I am a mom who hates to see her daughter start the day sobbing with a possibility of throwing up. So I let D take her the next day, thinking it had something to do with me dropping her off. Nope. SAME THING. But today! We had a plan! We would wait in a different-from-normal spot for a friend to arrive, then they would walk in together. I was hoping this would minimize the tears, but boy was I surprised when M pulled up, got out, and LPT took her hand and said "Bye Mom!" over her shoulder as she walked in to the school. I stood there for a minute, trying to comprehend what had just happened; did this actually mean that I successfully dropped Lil' Puddin' Tater off with no consternation? No feelings of guilt? I could just leave? It was a heady experience, let me tell you.
See all these vegetables and fruits? Everything except the strawberries is what we brought home from The Farm yesterday. We picked all these ourselves. And see that big tomato in the middle? The purple-y one? That there is the best damned tomato you'll ever eat, bar none. (it's a Cherokee Purple, and I'm going to keep some seeds and see if I can grow some next year. They're that good.)

2009-06-15T08:32:00.002-05:00

This weekend I was able to spend time with J, one of my best friends ever. We're quasi-related (my uncle won't make an honest woman out of her mom) and former roommates, so I kind of consider her a sister. Anyway, we went to the farmer's market on Saturday (a thousand noms, and one of the most influential teachers I had in high school has a booth there!) and then we spent Sunday finalizing an outfit for an upcoming interview on Friday (hers, not mine, and the job is PERFECT for her.) On Saturday she had gone with another friend and tried on an insane number of ill-fitting power suits, cursing the fact that she's one size on the top and another size on the bottom. Basically, buying off-the-rack she could have insanely tight pants and a nicely-fitting jacket, or perfect pants and a jacket that made her look like a little kid playing dress-up. On the other end of the spectrum, one store tried to put her in a short-sleeved/cap-sleeved/sleeveless suit. For an interview! Luckily, she had another friend with her who made her opinion abundantly clear to the salesperson: we don't need trendy, kthanxbai. But Ann Taylor (as always!) came to the rescue. She found a dress and jacket that don't come as a set, and I think she struck the perfect balance between appropriate attire and showing a bit ofher unique personality. Thus, I give you The JH Interview Ensemble:

And she hasn't chosen her shoes yet, but basic black pumps should do the trick. [and i swear that I am a complete tool then it comes to posting pictures. I apologize for the utter wonkiness.)

In other news, Midget 2.0 has officially become a biter. Against all better judgement he bit his sister this weekend, ON PURPOSE and VERY HARD. I'm surprised, frankly, that she didn't whack him upside the head. But there were tears all around, of course from LPT, but also from M2.0 as soon as he realized he was in T-R-O-U-B-L-E. I can't wait for preschool, when I'll get concerned phone calls nightly from parents, wondering why their Little Precious has been rendered nothing more than a teether for M2.0's purposes.

2009-06-11T08:14:00.002-05:00

So one of the significant drawbacks (or benefits? or maybe just facts?) of working for your stepfather while having your mother provide childcare at their home is that when something unexpected comes up (like, say, your 24 year old stepbrother is ill and decides he wants to be with his father, thus rendering the aforementioned residence off-limits to ankle-biters) you have to bring one or both of the midgets into the office with you. Now, in the past, this hasn't been a big deal at all. Lil' Puddin' Tater has lots of "work" to do, and now that she can write and is learning to read, I can give her endless activities to accomplish while I do actual work and speak to actual clients. And for an idyllic, halcyon (my word of the day calendar pays off! finally!) time, Midget 2.0 could come into the office and it was truly like he wasn't even there. But, friends, that time is OVER. He's able to ambulate, get in to all sorts of trouble with seemingly innoculous objects, and yell REALLY LOUD. And he refuses to sleep. I kind of understand, because, hey, if people you like are doing potentially cool stuff, you don't want to sleep through it! You want to be in the middle! Helping!

All of this is made worse when I have to bring M2.0 in unexpectedly. Like this morning - I'm unshowered, I overslept, and my clothes need to be washed again. I feel like ass and someone turned off the a/c in my office overnight so it's humid and hot as hell in here. M2.0 refuses to drink his cow juice or sleep and is now in the boss's office and from what I can hear, he's attenpting to make phone calls while taking the heater/air conditioning unit apart, singlehandedly.

I feel like M2.0 will associate this office with an utterly bitchy version of his mother, since I'm constantly trying to keep him quiet, away from office supplies, and out of the boss's office if there's a phone call.

and I missed my coffee.

2009-06-10T07:39:00.003-05:00

Completely wonderful filing kit from the Office of the Tooth Fairy. Apparently, these "Official Certificates of Record have increased speed and efficiency of [their] filing capabilities by 47%." Good to know that they're trying to keep costs down.

Via Poppytalk (coolest blog ever): three FREE giftwrap designs. Generosity is a fabulous thing. [And you should also check out Poppytalk Handmade, the main website, for all sorts of spiffy finds.]

30 Rock is completely ripping off The Muppet Show. Thank you, Brian Lynch.

It's dark outside today, at 10 in the morning, which gives the distinct feeling that I should not be at work, that I'm actually supposed to be elsewhere, like cooking dinner or giving the ankle-biters a bath. Speaking of cooking, last night we had a couple of friends over (D&S) and we really "put on the dog" - we had pork tenderloin and the best mashed potatoes ever (I can say that because it's not my recipe at all) and green beans, then for dessert we had Boston Cream Pie. NOMS. It's funny; when we have people over, cooking is no big thing. We do it, it usually tastes pretty good, and we clean up after. When it's just us, dinner consists of M2.0 eating some of whatever I'm having (usually cereal), LPT eats a sandwich if I can talk her into it, and D winds up making something completely gross, like hotdogs with cheese in them.

2009-06-09T14:55:00.002-05:00

oh. my. gosh. Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up, are feeling really productive, but then hit a wall around lunchtime? (Maybe I need some Emerald Nuts...) Oy. I've had to be very conscious of the weight of my head, because it keeps gravitating to my desk. It's the kind of sleepy where if you can just close your eyes for five minutes, everything will be fine. Then you wake up two hours later, confused and probably with drool all over your cheek.

Tomorrow I'm going with the ladyfriends to try on bridesmaid dresses for A's wedding. But I'll have to make my undergarment choices carefully. I'll have to wear Spanx (naturally) and possibly wrap myself head-to toe in spandex/lycra, to create a more smooth base so that all the taffeta, tulle, satin and organza will lay more nicely and not cling to every bulge and dimple. Oy again. But, at least I'll have my support group with me, and I am completely confident that no one will let me purchase something atrocious. Right, ladies?

Had a most uncomfortable lunch today with Mother regarding religion and Lil' Puddin' Tater. I'll spare you all the gory details, but the conversation did involve phrases like, "She's my daughter. I will raise her as I see fit," "I know you think you're right, but you're so wrong," and "You're doing Lil' Puddin' Tater a disservice by not embracing this." Yeah. It was unpleasant, but I think the she got the message, and now we'll just have to slink into our respective corners and lick our wounds for a day or so. I won't lie, many things that were said stung a bit.

The new iPhone update comes out on the 17th. I am counting the minutes.

2009-06-08T10:00:00.002-05:00

I have to say that I am quite irritated with myself for not updating this blog a bit more regularly. So, henceforth, I WILL UPDATE DAILY. I can't promise that the posts will be fantastic, or even worthy of mention, but they will be.

First up: I am sick of sippy cups. (see? I warned you...) I will be SO FLIPPIN' GLAD when Midget 2.0 is finished with them. I daresay that I would take a lifetime of bottles to sippy cups. The thing is, sippy cups (the ones that don't leak all over everything, that is) have these little valves. They're clear, with intricate little tubes etc. and they don't come apart. They get lost in the dishwasher (where do they go? no clue. probably off gallavanting with all missing socks) and if you leave a sippy cup in the car, under the seat, with juice in it for two weeks (ahem. it happens.), the valves are impossible to ever get clean again. I'm sick of them and I'll be ecstatic when they're gone for good.

Number two: I have a new car! And it's SO PRETTY. And I would advise everyone to purchase this car, because it is SO MUCH FUN to drive. Along with being fun, it's a blast to drive. And I've found that if I turn the music up really loud, I can almost forget that there are two kids in the backseat. Can your car do that? I though not. (I have the 5-speed manual sport version, which increases the fun factor threefold.)

Pet peeve of the day: Why the hell do they make unlined white linen pants at all? I got a pair at Target (very cute, cloth covered buttons and a drawstring) and when I wear them, I have to put more thought and consideration into my undergarments that into any other element of my outfit. No me gusta.

Jim is the cutest thing ever. That is all. (yeah, that one clip isn't of Jim, so I guess what I meant to say was "John Krasinski is the cutest thing ever." My bad.)

2009-05-11T09:03:00.004-05:00

I've discovered that my average time for going without harming my car is approximately 4.5 years. When I was in high school, I had my first incident. I was coming down an icy hill, and at the bottom was a Volkswagen van, going in reverse, attempting to get up enough of a running start to get up the next hill. Well, I simply braked and my car went off to the right, nearly missing tumbling into Beargrass Creek. This ultimately cost my car its transmission. The second incident (completely my fault) was about three years later, when I went to turn left on to Bardstown Road, crossing two lanes of traffic. I pulled in front of a work van and smooshed my front driver's side. On Friday, I had my third accident, and the entire passenger side of my little Corolla was incredibly smooshed. I'm pretty sure the car is totaled, which in a way is nice, because I can get a new one. But that car has been through a lot. It's been to New Orleans (the last official trip the four ladies took together) then to Tuskeegee (a poorly-thought-out trip for which Y will never forgive me) then to Florida. It's been to Lexington more times than I can count, and has worked pretty hard these past 6 years.
Now, the window is gone, the frame is bent and there's glass EVERYWHERE. From behind, it looks like the car has had liposuction on one side - it's got half of a perfect hourglass figure.

And the completely sucky part of all this is that the police report (with all of the chick's insurance information) hasn't been processed yet, so I've got to wait until that posts before I can even think of getting a rental. And getting the children to where they need to be plus getting the two adults to work with only one car is no picnic. (this is not to say that millions of people do it every day, and without all the bitching. I'm just frustrated and complaining. so there)

And, because I don't want this post to be all gloom-and-doom, Midget 2.0 turned 1 on 30 April. I can't believe it's been a full year since his debut.

2009-04-28T10:33:00.002-05:00

Oh my goodness. The children are killing me. Slowly. Midget 2.0 is a biter without discrimination, Lil' Puddin' Tater is becoming a teenager before my very eyes, and both of them are starting to argue with one another. Granted, Midget 2.0 usually just growls, but it's arguing in my book. AND M2.0 has morphed from pudgy/drooly/sweet thing I can carry with me wherever I go (i.e., out to lunch with the girls, running errands, emptying the dishwasher, etc.) to a little terror who tries to eat everything in sight, becomes attached to things like rocks and will not give them up for any reason, and yells. At me. Frequently. Just last night, I was trying to make sense of the kitchen, putting dishes and groceries away. M2.0 wanted to be in the refrigerator. Then he wanted the knife out of the dishwasher. Then he wanted the banana peel out of the trash can. Now, as you can probably deduce, not a single one of these activities was acceptable. So he proceeds to get stuck under one of the kitchen chairs. When freed, he plops down and begins telling me off. I stood, dumbfounded, and just took it. I'm a total wuss.

Anyway, after I put the wee angerball in bed, LPT, D and I made homemade pizza. And it went perfectly, except LPT ate almost an entire bag of shredded cheese. But she made her own little pizza and D and I made THE BEST PIZZA EVER. Here's how to do it:

Layer the ingredients in the following order:

Pizza crust (store-bought, pre-cooked)
Thin layer of olive oil, brushed on
Pizza sauce
Diced tomatoes (the ones seasoned with oregano and garlic)
Pepperoni (just a few)
Italian Cheese
More pepperoni
Ham cubes
Goat cheese crumbles
More Italian cheese
Red onion slices
Fresh Basil Leaves

Bake at 425 degrees until it looks appetizing.

2009-04-08T19:36:00.003-05:00

My children are destroying the world.

Midget 2.0 is in a general destructive phase. He may not intend to, but the problem is that he enjoys pushing buttons - literally. If there's a remote nearby, he'll find and commandeer it, then proceed to push a button and look at the nearest piece of electronic equipment. Then he purposefully pushes another button, and looks expectantly at the object he thinks the remote should control. If he's permitted near the stereo/dvd player/receiver/tv area, he goes hog wild: each button is pushed repeatedly, ad nauseum, until he is forcibly removed, at which point he protests loudly. He has successfully unplugged and turned completely silent our stereo, turned off the tv while Lil' Puddin' Tater is watching (a very dangerous move on his part - I think he may have a death wish) and rendered useless several game controllers. If he could reach the computer, I'm certain he would casually unleash the next world-crippling virus.

Lil' Puddin' Tater, for her part, is focusing mainly on cars. Today, in the span of a single hour, she succeeded in killing my car battery, shutting the garage door on my purse, and removing the back windshield of Papa's truck, which he then proceeded to drive over and shatter. When she (finally) went inside for dinner, she knocked several items off the end table and began to play with bandage tape. She was headed for Midget 2.0 when I releived her of the offending tape and sent to the bathtub.

This is why I go to bed at 8:30 every night. And why I'm going to have gray hair sooner than later.

2009-03-24T13:20:00.002-05:00

Blargh. Why is it that when your mother says something to you, it is fraught with so many layers of meaning, it's completely insane? For instance, on Sunday, Lil' Puddin' Tater and I went over to Mammy & Papa's house to pick up some things Mammy brought from cleaning out her mother's garage. It was lovely outside not cold by any stretch of the imagination, and I frankly didn't feel like arguing the merits of putting a coat on with LPT. So she wore two t-shirts and long capri pants. And shoes. And she was completely comfortable. But my mother, as soon as LPT gets out of the car, exclaims, horrified: "Where is your coat?" then follows that up with a fleeting glance in my direction. Now, on the surface, this is nothing. It is an adult asking a simple question to a child. However, when you peel back that simple, vanilla veneer (did I just mix metaphors?) you see the jumbled mess of emotions contained in those four little words: How could your mother let you go out in this weather and get cold? She knows you have breathing problems, and you can't convince me that the cold is harmless. And you! You're her mother, and you should make her put on a coat if it's chilly outside! I know that I get cold when it's like this, I cannot imagine how she must feel! I never let you go outside without a coat when you were little. Why don't you care more? You are not a good mother, and I would do so much better.

Now, not a bit of this is actually said, possibly not even thought outright. And perhaps I'm just making it all up, just reading too deeply. And my mother would say I was completely insane if she ever read this. And perhaps this isn't a good example. But there is something to the hidden nuances present between daughters and mothers. A tone of voice, a look, even posture all convey the slightest changes in disposition toward another person, and I think that with mothers and daughters, it's especially true.

Can you tell who I'm dealing with today? :)

Mexico.

2009-03-20T08:20:00.006-05:00

On Wednesday evening, I arrived back in Kentucky from Cancun, Mexico. It was a lovely trip; we stayed here, and somehow were "Club Platinum" guests, which means that the hotel employees will help you get rid of a body, as long as you are wearing your platinum wristband. I got to spend uninterrupted time with my mom, and I discovered that she (and probably I as well) can be very enjoyable when she hasn't had to deal with my children all day. We relaxed, we read anything we could get our hands on, we drank to our hearts' content (all-inclusive is the only way to go) and we slept late. We also took home a bit of a sunburn, but hey, it's the price you pay. This is not to say that I didn't miss the midgets. And I really missed D. There were several couples who were honeymooning, and the king-size bed in my suite was HUGE. I spent most nights with pillows piled around me, I guess to mimic the crowded nature of the bed at home. And Lil' Puddin' Tater would have had a blast at the pool and on the beach. There was even a special "Kids' Clubhouse" right next to the pool. Maybe next time.

And really, the trip was uneventful until the last day. We were packed, breakfasted and ready to go to the airport by 11:00 am. The shuttle arrived on time, and the 30 minute drive to the airport was completely great. However, it was when we were standing in line (it was Disney-world long, I tell you) that a US Air employee made an announcement that we needed to write contact information on the back of our Immigration Stub, and have it and our passports ready when we got to the ticket counter. Since we flew in to Cancun on Mexicana Airlines, all announcements involving customs and immigration forms were in Spanish or broken English over the PA system of the plane, so if they mentioned that you needed to retain this little stub of paper in order to leave the country, I was unaware. But I didn't panic! It was 11:40-ish, our flight didn't leave until 1:40, so I thought I would just go to the information desk and clear everything up. The girl at the desk said to go to the immigration office. Ok, cool. So I leave everyone in line with my luggage, and take off. The Immigration Office is a sad little room in the back of Terminal 3, at the end of a hallway. In it is a desk, piles of boxes, and a chair. No computer, no phone. The officer sitting at the desk spoke only Spanish. So I filled out the appropriate form (designated through gestures and pointing) while she went and fetched "Josh," who could speak English. I did not care for Josh, mostly because he entered the office and confiscated my passport, then told me to go to "el banco" in Terminal 2.

Here is a map of the Cancun Airport. I was at the black dot in Terminal 3 (the orange area) when I heard this. I protested leaving my passport, making "Josh" quite displeased with me. When I realized he was serious, I walked out and took the shuttle to Terminal 2, in search of "el banco." On the shuttle, I met a group of French tourists and I swear, I have never been so happy to speak French. I verified that this was indeed the shuttle I needed to take, and that el banco was in Terminal 2. Apparently, I was being sent to pay an immigration fee of 525 pesos, and all I needed to do was bring the receipt back to the immigration office and all would be well. When I arrived at Terminal 2 (the red area - I'll explain the black route in a sec) I was offered several "extra" visas that various airport employees had on hand, for about 50 bucks. I chose to stay legal (and where did that get me?!?)and queued up at the bank. It was apparently pay day, because the line was forever long, and most of it was airport employees cashing checks. I have always heard that things move really slowly in Mexico. That is 100% correct. I stood in line for about 90 minutes. My mother found me after about a half hour, and progressively became more and more irate the closer we got to the teller window, at about 1:00 pm. (remember, the flight leaves at 1:40.) When I submitted my form (after fending off several instances of tourists in my same situation trying to cut in line) the teller looked at me blankly and said "Cash only. Sorry." My mother is gone in a flash with my check card, and I would up paying my fee in dollars and pesos. I get my receipt, and we dash outside to discover that we've missed the shuttle and it won't come back for another 20 minutes. It is now 1:10. We ask if it's possible to walk to Terminal 3. The porters who keep trying to take our bags for us assure us it will take 5 minutes. The route from Terminal 2 to Terminal 3 is the black line on the above map. It was about 3/4 of a mile, and both mom and I were running the entire way, rolling suitcases be damned. We get to teh terminal, I run to the immigration office, fill out another form and then we bolt to security. Looking back, this is where it becomes amusing.

My mother is in a panic. We have printed our boarding passes out at the hotel, so she is waving this sheet of paper in front of her while screaming "We're about to miss our flight!" and running at the security guards. When she sees that there's a line, she bypasses the line and tries to go around the guard. Naturally, this alarms the guards, and they are on high alert. They detain my mother, as she is still screaming about the flight. To their credit, they listen, then see what she has in her hand. They inform us that electronic boarding passes are not valid in Mexico. This means that we will have to stand in the hideously long line again, and get real boarding passes. At this point, it's 1:20 and there's no hope. We're going to miss our flight.

We descend the escalators and see my stepfather, standing with our luggage. My stepbrother has gone ahead and gotten on the flight we just missed, and now we have to find a seat on the next flight out of Cancun or we'll be there until Thursday. Our luck starts to look up, and we get scheduled for a flight out of Cancun at 3:20, and the US Air employee writes (not prints, mind you) the following for our flight out of Charlotte the next day: Charlotte Louisville Flight 3285 9:10. The rest of the day is uneventful, and we arrive in Charlotte, NC that evening at 8:00.

We have to spend the night there (at the hippest airport hotel ever) and we wake up early the next morning to get to the airport by 7:30. George tries to print out the boarding passes at the hotel that morning at 7, and is told that he can't since it's 90 minutes or less before the flight departure. Turns out when the Mexico US Air person wrote 9:10, that was when the plane arrived in Louisville. It left Charlotte at 7:35. At this point, I want to cry. D is getting more and more pissed, since I've told him at least twice now that I was going to be home, and then was delayed. We finagle three seats on a flight Louisville that leaves at 10. We're at the airport in plenty of time, and all is well.

Then there is fog.

The flight is delayed 30 minutes.

The flight is delayed another 30 minutes.

The flight is cancelled.

Since I'm getting tired of typing, the gist is this: we get booked on standby to Lexington and miraculously make the flight. We rent a car and drive home. I arrive after D had to go to work, around 6 ish. I vow never to travel again.

The End.

2009-03-10T10:49:00.003-05:00

Well praise the lord that Chuck Norris is thinking about the future and what he can do. He's going to run for president! Of Texas! When it secedes from the rest of the United States! But the real question is: will he be wearing these pants at the inauguration?
This week's Modern Love requires Kleenex. I think everyone hopes their marriage (or partnership, which ever the case may be) is that strong. But to know that it is, 100%? Amazing.
And since I can't think of anything else to write, here's a video to make you smile from FotC.

2009-03-06T09:29:00.004-05:00

It's finally (finally!) starting to get nice around here, weather-wise. Today the high is 69, and it's not going to be completely miserable at night for awhile. I wore sandals for the first time this year yesterday, and I nearly blinded myself with the pallor of my feet. Going to Cancun (6 days and counting!) should do me good.
I've had to bribe LPT to let me leave. She doesn't know exactly how long I'll be gone, but she does know that I'm leaving and thus I have had to promise presents (namely a doll and some clothing) wrapped in paper upon my return. This means that I'll be toting a roll of wrapping paper and some scotch tape (not in my carry-on though - who knows what kind of damage I could do with that serrated edge?) because I know she'll ask about it as soon as we get in the car at the airport.

So, on to the real reason for my post: INSPIRATION. I received this book in the mail yesterday (love love love Heather), and the images (and, let's be honest, EVERYTHING) in it are so lovely! Is it inappropriate to bring my sewing machine to Mexico?

Seriously?

2009-02-20T14:06:00.005-05:00

Wow. I certainly hope this runway trend (Isaac Mitzrahi via Jezebel) doesn't catch on. And if it does, and I for some reason lose all sense and try to follow it, I certainly hope my ladyfriends will set a gal straight.

Anyway, life has been pretty quiet at the house with the blue door. I received a new washer for Christmas from D and as soon as we had it installed properly, the dryer, in a fit of jealousy, refused to function. I cajoled it a bit, and now it works - but only if I have a bungee cord keeping the door closed. If not, it pops open and spits out clothing. And yes, the bungee cord isn't the brightest idea out there and yes, it has snapped off and hurt my hand. Thank you for your concern. The feisty dryer will be replaced, just as soon as we get our tax refund back. And friends, I would just like to say that if you are in a situation in which you (a) work full-time, (b) go to school at least part-time, and (c) have two kids, the government gives you quite a few breaks.

So... I'm taking a trip pretty soon. I'm going to Cancun. And there was much gnashing of teeth and pouting on my part (long story: short version is that I wanted A to come with and the parents paying for the trip said no, essentially) but I have calmed down and am actually looking forward to some time away from les enfants. Not that I don't love and adore both of them, but waking at the ass-crack of dawn and demanding food and diaper changes can be a bit much to handle at times. D is staying home with the midgets (cue evil laugh here) and I'll have a condo all to myself with TWO BATHROOMS. I think I'll use them both, just because I can. But this trip brings up an unpleasant prospect: my wobbly bits in a bathing suit. I have a suit that I still wear, but it's a maternity suit and the bottoms don't really stay on and the top tends to balloon out as soon as I get into the water. So, I'm looking at a few things. Let me know what you think.
Option 1: a la Miranda in the Sex and the City movie. Covers all pertinent areas, cool retro vibe.

Option 2: Sporty, basic, racerback tank.

Option 3: Something in a print <shudder> that is inexpensive.

Sorry the pics are so huge. (and, after having previewed the post, wonky.)

If only...

2009-02-16T09:10:00.001-05:00

Yeah, it's a T-Mobile ad. But what a cool way to start the morning.

Snow!

2009-02-04T10:44:00.005-05:00

After a truly hectic week, we are at last snuggled down comfy cozy in our own house. Why would we be out of our house, you ask? Well, let me tell you. A terrible winter storm just attacked Kentucky with absolutely no provocation. There was snow, there was a copious amount of ice covering everything, and as a result, all the trees broke and/or fell over, landing on the power lines. Now, we had a windstorm back in September where we didn't have power FOR TEN DAYS. That was not cool by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it was warm, and it's a lot cooler hanging out without power when you can open all the windows and doors and entertain the children by going outside. When it's approximately 20 degrees out, the house cools very quickly to about 47 degrees, and it's not a suitable environment for children. (ok, not really a suitable environment for adults, either, but D and I probably could have survived with sweaters and blankets and socks.) And I'll spare you the (obviously fascinating but nonetheless interminable) details, but I will say that the tale involves two adjoining hotel rooms occupied by our family of 4 plus my mother and stepfather, in the only hotel in Louisville that allows pets, followed by a two-night stay at the house of a dear friend (nay, saint!) with the most freakish-looking dog I have ever seen. Then our power came back on, and we had to deal with (a) a smelly refrigerator, (b) the residue left from frantically packing clothes (and all the crap you need for a baby) for an undetermined time period in about 20 minutes and (c) finally digging my car out from under the pile of snow and ice.

Then, when everything had settled down, it snowed. Again.

But it was not bad at all, light and fluffy, the kind of snow that's pleasant. Lil' Puddin' Tater agreed with me, though: We're all sick of snow. (but not of Rosemary Clooney!)

2009-01-14T09:55:00.003-05:00

Is it possible for children to remember their lives as babies? I don't mean remembering specific things, like a trip to the zoo or a birthday party, but feelings or senses? Here's the poop: LPT has become increasingly clingy over the past few weeks. So much so that she's actually stressed out when I'm not around, or if I am around, not next to her or holding her. She whines, cries at the drop of a hat, and becomes a different person. Now, I know what's causing this on the surface ( I think): I'm going to Mexico in March with two of my parents and my sister and brother-in-law. D isn't going, mostly due to his crippling fear of flying. So the kids will stay with him for the 5 days that I am gone. This isn't the first time I have traveled without LPT, but it is the first time she'll stay for multiple consecutive days with her dad, in our house, with all my stuff but without me. I'm pretty sure that this is what is eating away at her.

But my mother (bless her heart) can't leave it at that, no, she has to dig deeper! She ties in how I interact with Midget 2.0 versus how I was with LPT, and how LPT watches and observes how I look at M2.0, and frequently asks if I looked at her that way when she was a baby? Now, the crappy part of all this is that LPT could, conceivably, have reason to feel slighted due to a major case of PPD I had shortly after she was born. Also, the life that D and I were etching out nearly crumbled a few times, which (obviously) caused a lot of stress. And I hate that my little girl was around and subjected to environments that weren't nice. And yes, there are and always will be significant (overwhelming?) amounts of guilt on my part, even though I got help and I'm doing just fine and dandy now. And my mother (interior designer by trade and training, psycologist and doctor by will) thinks that this is just now causing problems, causing LPT's insecurity. And there's just enough guilt on my part to indulge her, and now I don't know what to do. Do I not go to Mexico? Do I sit LPT down, all of 4 and a half years old, and explain that Mommy was really sad after she was born, but things are better now? Do I accommodate the clinginess and let her be by my side constantly? Or do I let her know that I'm here now, will always come back for her, and that she's completely safe? And how do I do that without freaking her out more? And speaking of freaking her out, how do I get my mother to stop talking about it?

Oy. I need more coffee.

2009-01-13T10:58:00.002-05:00

Lil' Puddin' Tater loves to change things. Her clothes, furniture arrangement, hairstyle, etc. (and which parent bestowed that? hmmm...) Occasionally, she gets a wild hair (no pun intended) and decides to take care of things herself, if the powers that be are moving too slowly for her liking. Case in point: on Sunday afternoon, D caught her in the office/sewing room with my scissors and shards of orange corduroy. The rule in the house with the blue door is that LPT isn't allowed to even approach the sewing area without prior explicit permission, and even then she must have an objective - she's not allowed to pereuse and see what she might enjoy destroying. So we had a chat and I refreshed her memory regarding the rules (and she's damn lucky it was some old scraps she was cutting - there have been other times when she decided to cut the shoulder out of a dress I needed to hem, for example.)

The next morning as I was putting her hair into a ponytail, I noticed that she had a few shorter stray pieces of hair near her face. Truthfully, I didn't think anything of it. However, when I went to pick her up from my mother's house later that day, Mom pointed out that the front half of her hair had approximately three inches taken from each side, and her those portions were now in the area of her chin. (I use the word approximately because the left side is longer than the right.) So I asked her, "LPT, did you cut your hair the other day in the office with Mommy's scissors?" And she responded with, "Yeah mom [duh implied], I wanted it just a little bit shorter. It was in my way."

So today, we're going to have the other half (the back) cut to match the front, and hopefully have the shorter pieces blended in.

And I told her that if she ever does that again, we're totally shaving her head.

2009-01-07T14:41:00.002-05:00

Man, I'm doing a bang-up job of keeping this blog going, aren't I? My apologies. I've grown unaccustomed to updating daily.

Anyhoo, since the 29th of December, we've had a New Year's Eve party where I had the wonderful pleasure of ringing in 2009 with those I hold most dear. And my husband. [bah-dum ching!] Kidding - shortly after the party (on 3 January, to be exact) D and I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary. Five years and all we have to show for it are two midgets and a messy house. :)

At the party on New Year's Eve, Lil' Puddin' Tater begged me to stay up to see the ball drop. And she didn't nod off even once! She's quite the hostess, and stayed up until 2 a.m. to see everyone off. We negotiated with her after that, and she was allowed to sleep in our bed with us as long as she promised to stay in bed until at least 10 the next morning. But at 8:30, she was up, and yelling for us to wake up, too. Damned kids and their desire for breakfast.

Monday morning, I took (and passed!) the exam to get my license to sell life & health insurance. And really, I don't know how much selling I'll be doing, but this enables me to legally answer questions about the products marketed here at IBP. So I'll really just be doing what I've always done, except I'll no longer be breaking the law. Yay for me!

Thursday, D and I will be going to dinner in honor of the aforementioned anniversary and then going out with some friends to see a movie. It will probably be a scary one and I'll probably scream. After that, on Saturday night, comes the REALLY fun part. Thank goodness for P's birthday!

As far as Midget 2.0 is concerned, things have been somewhat tame. He's gotten another tooth (on the top, this time) and enjoys above all sneezing while eating a banana, and spraying me with goo. Oh, and he likes to eat LPT's toys. There is much screaming on her part.

2008-12-29T10:20:00.002-05:00

Quick hit for B - The Best of WhipUp 2008: Crafting Guides

I'm back in the office again today, and being here makes me identify with the Grinch:

For Tomorrow, he knew... All the Who girls and boys would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys! And then! Oh the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

It just feels like a nice, quiet respite here. And to anyone out there even considering the possibility of having kids, I have one piece of advice: MAKE SURE ALL TOYS ARE SILENT. No jingles, no sound effects, no singing. Trust me. Anything that makes noise (a) usually requires batteries, and the battery compartment usually requires a screwdriver and the patience of Job to open it, and (b) will inevitably cause tears when you chuck the damned thing out the window to preserve your sanity.

I'm currently on my fourth cup of coffee.

And she's back!

2008-12-28T10:19:00.002-05:00

A happy holiday to all. I hope everyone had a wonderful celebration (or distinct, purposeful lack thereof) earlier this week, and that family members weren't too awful. Or, if they were, that you had plenty of alcohol to muddle through.

Lil' Puddin' Tater is well on her way to becoming spoiled rotten, as she received two dollhouses (the Barbie Dream House and the Glitter Suite Dollhouse) from two of her three sets of grandparents. This year it was all about the dolls, and she also got a couple of Polly Pocket playsets, which are the SMALLEST TOYS IN THE WORLD. For Midget 2.0, he got several toys that light up, roll around, and shoot things into the air. Plus, he got wrapping paper, ribbon, and every little plastic bag or accessory that came with LPT's stuff. In order to properly ascertain the merit of these objects, he has diligently been attempting to eat them, one by one.

Hubby really took the cake this year and purchased for me (after saving up for 2-3 months in secret) a new front-loading washer. It's awsome, and it's RED. He rocks. :)

And I tried, really I did, to do an entirely handmade Christmas this year. And I sort of succeeded. I made scarves out of fleece (an excellent alternative for those of us who cannot knit) and I made some homemade tea, and I printed calendars and cards (from Little Brown Pen on etsy) and put together (with lots of help from LPT, of course) a mouthwatering chocolate cobbler dry mix. I actually did sew some stuff, like a pair of pants for my brother-in-law, a twirly skirt for my neice, juggling bags for my father-in-law and an apron for my mom. But I had to buy a few things, mostly because (a) I couldn't think of a single thing that I could make for some members of my family and (b) I completely ran out of time. Literally. I caught my fingernail in the sewing machine on Christmas day while frantically trying to finish the juggling bags as my father-in-law sat in our living room. It was definitely cheaper doing everything hand/home made, but lordy, the stress level increases exponentially and I frequently has to re-asses what gifts people were going to get from me. Luckily, my dear group of friends decided that we would give time this year instead of gifts, and we have a wonderful dinner party planned for New Year's Eve.

And my resolution for the new year is: keep this blog updated. I have lots of exciting stuff coming up and I want to share it with everyone!

mmm hmm

2008-10-02T12:16:00.002-05:00

Eye candy for my homeys. And a great way to waste some time: www.morphthing.com

must...bitch...or head...will...explode...

2008-09-18T11:01:00.002-05:00

Most who know me or are in contact with me at all are aware that there was a storm here on Sunday (a strange one - all wind, no rain. Just sunshine, as all our trees came toppling down) and as a result, we have no power. Now, it's not all that bad. I was fine on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and most of yesterday. But today, I'm completely over it. The novelty of using candles to read or go to the bathroom is gone. The open windows, while at first were nice, what with D's aversion to fresh air, are kind of old, since all we can hear at all hours is the humming chorus of several generators. I'm putting off cleaning out the refrigerator, because I'm a procrastinator and a glutton for punishment. (in my defense, D hasn't made any attempt to do it, either) I've come to work looking like ass every day because I can't see in the bathroom to do hair or makeup, and I'm a little wary of shaving my legs in the dark. Yesterday I took the kids to the laundromat (my first time!) and managed to wash some clothes. Notice I said "wash." Not "dry." The children could only put up with so much at one time, so both loads of laundry are hanging out to dry on our porch. Luckily, I have absolute saints for friends and they offered their washer and dryer for our use. They offered last night, and damned if I didn't take them up on it. Tonight, I will.
The main thing that is so irritating is that I can see where the problem is. There's a pole that snapped in two and the transformer is lying in bits all over the street a block away. It has been this way since Sunday. And there have been no trucks nearby at all. Down the street, a mere block in the other direction, there is power. There are people watching tv, running dishwashers, reading by lamplight, maybe even sewing. Gah.
And I swear, if the power isn't back on by the 22nd of this month, heads will roll. I'll have to move in with B & P.

2008-08-21T09:36:00.003-05:00

So, when I'm bored at work I sometimes look up a random city and see what types of homes are for sale there. Today, my city was Portland, Oregon. People, I want to live there. Badly. Now the only thing I need is about a billion dollars (Portland appears to be pricey) to move my friends and family with me.

The Contemporary One (late 1970s, early 1980s flavor)

The House on a Hill

The Duplex

And then, just for kicks, some European abodes:

Outside of Stockholm: little & cute. And cheap? If the price is listed in Euros, wr're talking $52,018.50. Not bad.

France, gorgeous farmhouse that I must have. Costs a little bit more. Like $631,987.40.

And I've also been sewing recently. I'm going to post pictures for all to see just as soon as I can round everything up and get the camera going. My goal this year is to make all Christmas presents for friends & family. Which is why I'm starting now.

And just so you know: Wilco's Sky Blue Sky is amazing. I love it.

2008-08-13T12:43:00.002-05:00

So I've found another website that is a total time-suck. (but such fun!) You can put together outfits/collages on Polyvore. Mmm. Clothes. My ensembles, below:

nom nom nom

2008-08-11T09:22:00.002-05:00

This weekend, D and I began watching season one of Heroes. (Finally - A brought it over for me to watch when I was on bed rest before the debut of Midget 2.0) And I am addicted. Not only does the show completely suck you in, but you get some serious eye candy with it. My top pick: Mohinder Suresh (that's him right there). One of the other attractions is his (character's) accent: a British-Indian mix. (listen here)

2008-07-30T07:58:00.002-05:00

I don't consider myself squeamish when it comes to things eye-related (contacts, etc.) but this makes my skin crawl.
Another day, another something(s) overpriced and ugly (encore!) from J.Crew. (Ooh! I forgot slightly pointless in addition to the overpriced!) But kudos to them on naming these shoes.
Uhm...what?
On the other hand, these something(s) are overpriced and beautiful. And I want so many of them. Yes, I do.

2008-07-17T09:51:00.002-05:00

So a thirty-something douchebag tries to meet up with a 14 year old girl he met on the interweb, and he shows wearing a "World's Greatest Dad" t-shirt. Priceless.

We have a new definition of abortion, brought to us by ol' Bush himself: “any of the various procedures — including the prescription, dispensing and administration of any drug or the performance of any procedure or any other action — that results in the termination of the life of a human being in utero between conception and natural birth, whether before or after implantation.” (emphasis mine) The pill prevents implantation. So now I am taking abortifacients each time I take a birth-control pill? This is one hell of a slippery slope, friends. Add to that the fact that any entity receiving federal funds is not allowed to discriminate against (read: discipline, fire, etc.) any employee who is opposed to birth control, abortion, or women's general well-being. I'll be so glad when this poophead is out of office.

Worst headline ever: From Fistula to Fab! (and no, it's not a joke) First, do you know what a fistula is? Yeah, makes me cringe just thinking about it. The text reads:

"Lovinsa, mother of two, is recovering from surgery to correct the vasco-vaginal fistula (VVF) that she endured for over ten years. Though she has borne five children, three died at birth because of the fistula. She has been deserted by her husband and is raising her children alone. Lacking self esteem because of what she has had to go through, African Woman decided to lift her spirits. And makeover they did...who knew that behind the facade of a she and depressed young woman was a hot and sexy babe just waiting to get out? Look out world, Lovinsa has arrived!"

Sarah Illenberger makes wonderful organs. Here, have a heart.

Second worst headline: "80 year-old Vegas stripper still does it 'classy'"

2008-07-11T13:53:00.002-05:00

No. They. Didn't. But unfortunately, they did. Folks, at left, let me present to you the Brum. Kind of like the Bro (mansiere?), but for ladies' bums. Apparently, anal cleavage (yes, that's what they're calling it) is the new thing. To me, having pants that go so low as to reveal your crack (or the top of uber-low-rise underpanties) is plain ol' plumber's butt. Not glamourous. Not sexy. And those underpanties (the Brum at left) are just asking for trouble. Can you imagine what your behind would look like after sitting on that for any length of time? Stripey, that's what. No, thank you. (For more cringe-worthy options, go here.) For a slightly different take, try this on for size.

2008-07-08T08:39:00.002-05:00

How do we feel about perms? (as in permanent wave) I had a few when I was younger (much younger) and they looked like poo. But I think it's because I never did anythign with the curls, just brushed my hair a zillion times like I always did and wound up with a huge puffball on my head. But now that I'm older, wiser, I think that I could make the curls work to my advantage. Am I completely crazy to think this (incredibly chemical-laden, thoroughly stinky) action is a plausible idea? Will my nearest and dearest relentlessly make fun of me? Would I make fun of myself? Something to ponder...

2008-07-07T10:10:00.002-05:00

Veto. That's all I can say. Veto. And maybe ick.
And yay for George Clooney not taking himself too seriously.
I find that crap like this makes me all twitchy. Because it's a terrible idea to actually assist in the prevention of a disease. According to the American Life League (real winners there), “They’re pushing pornography and contraception onto young children – beginning in kindergarten. Now parents aren’t even safe to go shopping without worrying Planned Parenthood will pressure their kids into promiscuous lifestyles that will increase their bloated birth control and abortion profits.” Yes, Planned Parenthood is just rolling in the proverbial dough. That's why they didn't need all that Title X funding. To quote Gray's Anatomy: Seriously?
Maybe I should move to Virginia.
The headline says it all: Mother, daughter use beer to escape attacker

2008-07-02T10:18:00.003-05:00

I'm lazy and slightly stressed today, and I'm not in the mood to talk about myself, so you get links! Enjoy.

My face turned bright red as I read this. I think I am a prude at heart. But it is an interesting article.

And I need a vacation, according to The Baltimore Parenting Examiner. And really, I'm not sure I know of anyone (with or without kids) who could take that quiz and not need a vacation, (except maybe my sister.)

And (finally!) an explanation as to why so many children are uninsured!

Apparently, birth order affects divorce liklihood. My dad and stepmom, sister and brother-in-law and my friends B & P and E & T show that the study is correct. But D is an only and I'm an only/middle. Where does that leave us?

2008-07-01T10:16:00.002-05:00

Want to see something creepy? Go to Google Maps and look up your residence. Go to street view. Here's my trash can. (and apparently, it was no longer trash day. we rarely bring the empty can back in on time. busted.) And here's the Barbee House. And here's my car at my parent's house. And my old apartment! Granted, these pics are outdated by about a year, but it's still a little weird that I can see my house (or anyone else's, for that matter) in such detail so easily.

Last night I was at the aforementioned Barbee House and imbibed some (many?) of the finest mojitos I have ever had the pleasure to taste, with some of the finest people I have ever had the pleasure to know. I love that I have friends with whom I am so comfortable; who know my story and still like me anyway. I love that we have jokes that go back years, and that we all have our own little quirks that can always be counted upon to make appearances. My friends are truly like an extended family, and I absolutely adore all of them. Even the ones who moved to Maine.

2008-06-30T09:22:00.005-05:00

One quick note: This is great. Women are victims of domestic abuse because they refuse to be good Christians and submit to their husbands. And according to the op/ed, I'm going to heaven, because I've given birth. So there.

Anyway, this weekend, D was a saint and offered to go to Ikea with me and the midgets. And no, we didn't trek to Chicago, because there's a brand-new store in West Chester, Ohio! And, my friend, that is only about 2 hours away. And how did everything go? Pretty good. Not a total disaster, but the kids will not be going to Ikea again. At least not together, and not with me.

But we got some SPIFFY stuff. The bathroom sink downstairs (a sad little sink, with zero charm, less efficiency, and no storage) in our house was looking like it was about to fall off the wall, was so low that LPT could reach just fine without a step stool, and the handles for the water were so hard to turn on and off that there was a stream of water left running every time LPT washed her hands. Something had to be done. So D and I bit the bullet and bought a new sink, cabinet, and faucet.

And then we decided that we would become plumbers. As a result, the sink is almost functional, (the pipes were just a skosh too short.) and I have a blister on my finger. Good times. But the bathroom already looks 100% better.

Another side note, falling into the "Kids say the darndest things" category: The family is snuggling in (our) bed this morning, and apparently my shirt had ridden up, exposing my stomach under the covers. I feel little feet on my tummy, then Lil' Puddin' Tater says, "Mommy, I can feel your wrinkles. On your tummy. Pull your shirt down."

2008-06-25T12:33:00.003-05:00

On the tail end of my lunch hour, I was looking on the interweb for a birthday present for J when I saw the cutest thing EVAH. Little heart sugars! With a space to hang them on your mug!

And then there's these. Which are just ingenious. Just the other day I sent rice flying when I stepped away from the stove and left the spoon in the pot.

2008-06-25T07:53:00.004-05:00

I've begun to double brew my coffee in the mornings - I think this means that my tolerance to caffeine is growing. But the double-brew method works wonders for my energy levels, and I think there's a psychosomatic effect as well; just thinking about how productive I will be gets me moving. I even got up (not woke up to feed the baby, but actually got myself out of bed and began my day) at 6:15 this morning, leaving LPT and D snoring in the bed.

And then LPT woke up (she could sense, from the depths of her sleep, that I might be doing something somewhere without her, and it might be fun) and we turned on cartoons (well, Noggin. Not cartoons exactly.) And we saw the coolest show! It's called Oobi, and the concept is something I could easily recreate with LPT and some craft supplies.

A side note to Banana Republic: this photo does not make me want to purchase these shorts. At all.

2008-06-13T09:57:00.003-05:00

I didn't feel like posting this with my other post on Michelle Obama - it just didn't feel appropriate.

On Thursday, 29 May, my grandmother died. It was my mom's mom, and being one of the closest grandchildren (one is two hours away, another lives in Tennessee, and yet another in Georgia), and owing to the fact that my mom was the de facto caregiver for the majority of the time (living only an hour away and retired), I saw her quite a bit. She lived long enough to see my wedding, and the birth of my two children, even if she was almost completely gone (mentally) when the second was born. After my parents divorced when I was two, my mom and I lived with her for about three years and commuted to the city every day. She was an amazing woman.

Rebecca Joyce Mattingly (nee Cook)

Born 22 August 1930 to Beckham & Janie Mae Cook; second of three daughters (Joanna & Murna). Married summer of 1948 to Billy McMurray (high school sweetheart). Gave birth to Larry Gean in October 1948, then Rebecca Jo in February of 1951, then Patricia Joyce (my mother) in July of 1952. In August of 1958, Billy died of leukemia (6 weeks from start to finish). Remarries Charles Mattingly in 1961, and gives birth to Michael Owen in August of 1963. Divorced in early 1970s. Worked at Crume Drug Store for the majority of time that I can remember, and had to retire when macular degeneration began the process of rendering her blind in the mid 1990s. Founding member of Parkway Baptist Church. Talented piano player. Immaculate dresser. Generous to a fault.

Wonderful grandmother, loving and kind.

Wow.

2008-06-13T09:52:00.003-05:00

Uhm. Usually I refrain from using that term with highly accomplished, intelligent, admirable women. But apparently, that's just me.

(and technically, "baby mama" doesn't even apply in this case.)

Fox News can suck it.

back to life

2008-05-20T17:26:00.006-05:00

After almost three weeks of the requisite "hiding out" (so to speak), we're finally getting out of the house a bit more. LPT 2.0 will be three weeks on Wednesday (btw: Lucas Alexander: born on 30 April at 3:23 p.m.; 7 lbs. 14 oz.; 20" long. Male. Full head of black hair. Pleasant disposition. See below.) (And the scratch on his face is self-inflicted.

Thundercats are go*

2008-04-30T04:56:00.004-05:00

Well friends, today is the day. Please note the ungodly hour of this post. The rule around here is that is that if LPT gets up before 7, we have a problem. But we had to call the hospital at 5 this morning to make sure there wasn't a rush on the delivery beds (thank goodness for the lack of a full moon, eh?) But I have to say that all this complaining about the hour is kind of moot - D and I didn't really sleep that well (who could?) and we were both up a bit before 5. I need coffee.
My next post should be from the point of view of a mother of two. Maybe I should spike that coffee.
P.S. Dan in Real Life is an excellent movie and everyone should see it with kleenex nearby.
*Since D just gave me a strange look, the title of this post is in reference to Juno.

D-Day is on the Horizon, etc.

2008-04-24T13:23:00.003-05:00

Not to get too graphic here, but I am so happy you may just have to put up with a bit of detail. MY CERVIX IS DILATED. Which means that I will be induced on the 30th of April, officially. Which means there is an end in sight. A light at the end of the tunnel. Ah, certainty. It's a wonderful thing.

On a different note, I've been on bed rest for the past few weeks, and have thus had the privilege of watching lots of tv, and by default, commercials. I love the following:
E-Trade (1 & 2)
Kia (I've done this more than I care to admit)

And I hate the following:
Mighty Putty I think that if I had to interact with this man on a daily basis, I would have to kick him in the shins regaularly. What's with all the shouting?
Trains (!)

and the hits, they keep on coming

2008-04-03T13:17:00.002-05:00

Well, I went to the doctor for my strep test (and they ain't swabbin' the throat for this one) and an initial dialation check (still shut tight), and we discovered the I am borderline for preeclampsia (high blood pressure during pregnancy along with protein in your urine). So what does this mean? No work for me. Lots bed rest. No walks. No IKEA on Saturday. (sniffle) Mostly, I have to lay around a lot of the time, but since it's not a case of "oh, the baby might fall out if you stand up," I can still do stuff around the house. Everything just has to be low-key. Which should be a snap, given that LPT is crazy. Oh well. I'm not that worried about it, just one more thing with this (final) pregnancy. My mother asked if I would be able to do things like answer the phone. I said yes, I would be able to do that and lots of other things, like lift my head and move my arms and legs. D told me I should have said that I can take phone calls from anyone but her - since she stresses me out. If that were the criteria, I would have a lovely little list of no-answers.

Maybe I can use this to my benefit after all.

2008-03-31T10:09:00.002-05:00

I discovered that by drinking an espresso beverage around 5pm does wonders for what I can accomplish at night. Three loads of laundry, plus straightening the house after LPT hit the hay. And somehow, I was actually able to get up this morning and bathe, get myself and LPT dressed, put makeup on and be in the car by 8:20! This never happens. SO I kept it up with the coffee this morning and I am on top of things. Perhaps I'm going into some weird nesting phase, and my impending crash will completely do me in. Oh well.

I'm officially sick of rain. I never thought that I would say that, but here's the thing: I have short legs, and my pants are always a bit long. Which means that they soak up water EVEN BETTER since they are constantly in contact with the wet ground and/or puddles. And the damp makes its way about halfway up my calf, just after the point where my socks end, and then I get that cold sensation every time I sit. And if I want to sit in my chair with my legs crossed beneath me, I can look forward to two wet spots on my ass. No more rain.

And LPT, in all her adorable honesty, watched me get out of bed this weekend and exclaimed, "Mama, you're really BIG." Ah, to be young. And tactless.

2008-03-27T13:25:00.002-05:00

D has promised LPT that, if she can be 100% potty-trained by her birthday, we can get a ferret. My main concern about this is (a) we're going to have something small and needy already, and very soon [the baby], and (b) I lose my keys, wallet, earrings, change, other jewelry, etc. on a daily basis without the help of any furry creatures. (though it has to be said that LPT helps more than I would like.) I don't like cleaning up poo, whether it's the human variety or otherwise - presumably ferrets, if not properly trained, will require cleaning up, or at least their cages will, and frankly, I'm not going to do it. This pet will be the sole concern of D and LPT. Though we'll see how it goes on the fragrance front - ferrets have quite the odeur and must be descented and bathed regularly to not stink up the place.

Of course, it cannot be denied that ferrets are adorable, and very smart, and that I almost got all weepy (hormones, people!) when LPT pressed her little face up against the glass case containing about twenty baby ferrets, and the wee ferrets did the same thing. If this plan goes through, the little addition would be called either Archimedes or Mr. Magoo. (Ferrets don't see so well, but they can smell and hear beautifully. As for the senility, I have no clue.)

Braxton-Hicks contractions = the devil. FYI. (and painless, my ass!)

I survived Easter without any major mishaps, even though my mother had the tastiest non-chocolate cake EVER and there was plenty of sugar-coated ham. Most everyone was sick in some way or another, but we managed to keep the candy consumption to a minimum re: LPT. And I still hate peeps.

What I would wear if I had my body back

2008-03-10T12:02:00.002-05:00

I'm entering the blah phase of pregnancy (though, aren't all stages a bit blah? Discuss.) in which the very act of rolling over in bed takes gigantic effort, and there's not a single piece of clothing that is 100% comfortable and that also looks good. I'm starting to waddle (oh! the indignity!) and even though there's about 6 weeks left, I look like I'm done. The strech marks have shown up, and all the romanticism associated with reproduction is spent. The rose is off the bloom, my friends. And so, since I am a bit bored at work today, I will submit a list of clothing items I would wear, if only my waist would go along with the deal.

2008-03-04T10:41:00.002-05:00

Even though I consider myself very familiar with death and the loss of loved ones, I cannot say that I have ever experienced losing someone with whom I was once romantically linked.

It's a strange feeling to know that you once kissed someone who is now gone.

J was an all-around great guy, and could never fail to make me laugh. He was one of the smartest people I've ever known, and I have no doubt that his life would have been a rich one.

I miss you, buddy.

Obituary

2008-02-25T11:26:00.002-05:00

Not sure if anyone watched the Oscars last night, but I got a wonderful heartfelt thank you from Daniel Day-Lewis when he won for Best Actor.
Here's the video. And Daniel, you're quite lovely too.

2008-02-23T19:50:00.002-05:00

To all you childless folks out there: if you decide to have children, I have a warning. It will be unrelentlessly messy. You will need to develop the indifference of a medical professional (preferably a maternity ward nurse) to ALL bodily fluids. And you will also have to be okay with those bodily fluids covering your person. Lil' Puddin' Tater is sick (...again) and when she is sick with any sort of respiratory infection, she hurls. Lots. And I should already know the signs by now: she looks pained and begins to whimper and cry with no apparent reason. Silly me, instead of rushing her to the bathroom (where she prefers the sink to the toilet for all purposes vomiting-realted, and there's no resaoning with her) when all this began, I foolishly held her in my arms while sitting on our (somehow, it's never hers) bed. And I was promptly covered in dinner and all evening medication, plus mucus and a little stomach acid. She rushes, in the buff, to the sink in the bathroom and throws up again, except that since this throw up contains food chunks, the sink stops up. (usually, it's in the wee hours of the morning when this happens and she's expelling snotty mucus that she had inadvertantly swallowed, and it goes through the literal pipes much easier.) We both hop in the bathtub, since we're both covered in a stinky film, and suddenly she better and asking questions about my boobs. I quickly rinse and se asks if she can play for awhile, and I am left with the disgsting task of cleaning up all things vomit-soiled. My clothing, the towels in the bathroom, our comforter, and the floor. And it's really an interesting smell, that of all-purpose cleaner (method brand, in case LPT wants to inhale too closely) mixed with throw-up. At least there's a 2-foot section of the floor in the bedroom that is REALLY clean now, since usually I cannot be bothered to get down on all fours and wipe the floor down with a cloth. So now, LPT is in the tub, singing happily. Me, I just feel a little dirtier.

P.S. I feel like a complete tool since my post in which I bitched and moaned about having gestational diabetes. I spoke to an old friend and he was very nice in welcoming me to the wonderful world of diabetes. When I asked if he had familiarity with it (since to my recollection, he himself was not afflicted), he responded yes, his wife had type 1. Now, I'm not sure if anyone is familiar with the difference between type 1 & 2 and gestational diabetes, but gestational diabetes is pretty much a cake walk compared to type 1. The way I see it, GD requires slight temporary altering of diet (and possibly exercise) and just thinking a lot more about what goes in (and out - lovely ketone strips!) to your body while still in the family way. Type 1, however, requires (lots of) maintenance to stay alive, and even if you do everythign right, it's still sometimes a little sticky. So I would like to issue an apology (even though I was assured that none was needed) for my petty complaining because I can't eat cookie dough straight from the tube for awhile or binge-eat Honeycomb cereal. I may have to stick my finger four times a day and pee on little plastic strips, but I don't have to worry that if I don't do everything 100%, my life could be in jepoardy. And to L: you are an amazing person.

2008-02-21T10:02:00.002-05:00

So Bill Clinton can be a douchebag. And he's really been flaunting that side of his personality during the current campaign. However, I just caught a clip that makes me respect him a little more. Never have I seen such a big-name politician (or someone so closely tied to a big-name politician) speak that way about abortion. Go Bill. (but I'm still pulling for Obama.)

2008-02-20T10:41:00.002-05:00

All right, kids! I have opinions, and I'm going to share them with you.
First, there's a commercial out right now that I absolutely adore. It's for Tylenol (that I hate), but it is beautifully done. Part of what I like about it is that the people in it are not retouched. We see them, wrinkles, rolls and all, and they are all amazing. (ok, so after searching a bit, I can't actually find it. But if you watch tv at all, I'm sure you'll see it soon.)
Second, the soundtrack to Juno completely rocks my world right now. A, you have a copy coming already.
Third (and finally), D got me a book for Valentine's Day that is so spiffy, I feel compelled to share parts of it with you right now. It's called Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous & Obscure, edited by Smith Magazine. Inspired by (my beloved) Ernest Hemingway's response to a challenge that he couldn't write a complete story in six words, ("For sale: baby shoes, never worn.") the book asked all sorts of people what their six-word memoir would look like. And the book is truly addictive. I finished it in about a half hour, because I could not put it down. I've already dog-eared (the horror!) pages with my favorites. I will now proceed to (a) loan and/or give a new copy of the book to all my friends and realtives who would appreciate such a thing, and (b) reproduce my favorites here.

And he nerded as never before. - Jon Thysell
I wrote it all down somewhere. - Ben Greenman
Verbal hemophilia. Why can't I clot? - Scott Mebus
Artsy married Fartsy, has two kids. - Mary Organ
No shit I'm critical - you're flawed. - Elizabeth Koch
Boys liked her. She preferred books. - Annelise Cuttle
Beat death thrice. Still not religious. - Shan Palmer
Without me, it is just aweso. - Chris Madigan
Hope my obituary spells "debonair" correctly. - Gregg Easterbrook
Underachieving...but willing to overcompensate halfheartedly. - Frank J. Lepaine
Where the hell are my keys? - Brady Udall
Well, I thought it was funny. - Stephen Colbert
Put whole self in, shook about. - Melissa Delzio
God who? Oh, him. No thanks. - Carin Rhoden
Cheese is the essence of life. - Mary Lynch
Maybe you had to be there. - Roy Blount, Jr.
Surname rhymes with profanity. Childhood torture. - Noah Smit

And just a little aside...Obama is leading! w00t.

dy-uh-BEET-us

2008-02-13T09:55:00.002-05:00

When you become preggers and are taking a distinctly non-holistic route to getting the little booger out of you, you go to your OB/GYN about once a month until the magic time of around 32 weeks, when you get to go BI-monthly. (what fun!) Just before that happens, at 28 weeks, you take a test that monitors your blood sugar levels, to see if you might have gestational diabetes. This test involves drinking what tastes like Tang with craploads of sugar added, then waiting an hour and letting them stick a needle in your arm and draw blood. If the blood sugar level is high, you get to come back again and take a three-hour test, where you drink that god-awful beverage again, then let them stick you FOUR DIFFERENT TIMES to get blood. Do they put in an IV for this test? Of course not. You get to leave with a total of FIVE holes in your arms (four from the three-hour test and the one from the initial test). And since the gods really dislike you, you're stuck in the waiting room of LabCorp, along with everyone having drug tests. The bathroom there has no soap, and the back of the toilet is taped down like they're expecting Michael Corleone to stop by. And the magazine selection is limited to Men's Health and two-month old issues of Newsweek.

Well, kids, I've got the dy-uh-BEET-us.

I went to a class yesterday for TWO AND A HALF HOURS and got the poop on just what all this means. I could have a HUGE baby. I will probably (50% increased chance) get type 2 diabetes in the future. I can't eat chocolate for the duration of the pregnancy. It's a special kind of hell.

But ever the optimist (heh heh) I decided that this might be a good jump-start to healthier eating. But I was wrong. The diet I have to follow is like Atkin's on crack. It's all protein and fat. Lots of fat. Fast food is okay (just watch the buns and breading!) and microwave popcorn, movie theater butter lover's is okay. I'm sure that straight lard would be fine too, if I had the inclination to eat it. Why? Because fat doesn't do that much to your blood sugar.

So my daily routine goes something like this: wake up and pee on a piece of paper. (I have to measure my ketones to make sure that I'm not burning too much fat) Then prick finger and test blood sugar. Eat. Two hours later, test again. Eat snack. Eat lunch. Two hours later, test. Eat snack. Eat dinner. Two hours later, test. Eat snack. Go to bed and make sure not to sleep more than 9 hours.

The only perk to all this? I can eat as much sugar-free jell-o as I can stand.

2008-01-19T14:07:00.000-05:00

Ok, I would like to post a warning to anyone who is about to use a depilatory to remove any hair around the bikini line: watch where that stuff goes! nothing bad happend to me, I'm just a little more bare than I used to be. I thought (and still do, I suppose) that using a cream to remove unwanted hair in a region I cannot see (the pregnant belly renders that whole region off-limits to my sight, unless I'm trying really hard in the bathroom by myself, and even then it's difficult) is preferable to just blindly going at it with a razor (a scene in the film La Pianiste has rendered razors even creepier to me). And I guess I can say that this product officially works (Veet, that is) because my bikini line is officially clear.

Hair removal has been somewhat of theme this past week, with D removing all facial hair save his actual goatee (moustache is gone too) and giving himself a thorough haircut, and LPT cutting her own bangs "just a little bit shorter." I fear for the locks of our new addition.

2008-01-18T10:16:00.000-05:00

It's for kids, see? The co-founder of Wham-O, (and co-creator of the hula hoop and the frisbee), Richard Knerr died Monday at the age of 82.

And I am officially a pregnant woman. For breakfast this morning, I had toast with butter and jam, and then, filling an inexplicable craving, I ate more toast with gorgonzola spread. Now I am burping blue cheese. Mmmm.

Has anyone seen Juno? D and I saw it on Tuesday and I absolutely loved it. There's been some talk in the blogosphere (can't believe I actually used that word) about the film's glamourization of pregnancy (big fat HA on that one) and its dismissal of the "smushmortion" option. I went into the viewing with these two issues front and center in my mind, along with a slight loathing of Diablo Cody, the writer of the film. (she changed her name to Diablo. It reeks of...I don't know what. It's annoying, case closed.) First, the smushmortion as a non-viable option: well, the movie is about a pregnant teen. Ending that pregnancy in the first 20 minutes of the movie kind of kills the plot. And there's no part where Juno decries abortion - she even goes to the clinic, confident in her decision to procure a "hasty abortion." But when she arrives, she exercises her choice and leaves. And really, isn't that what the debate is about? A woman's choice? Anyway, as far as the glamourization goes, I personally don't find being pregnant glamourous in any way shape or form, so I have a bit of trouble with this one. One does have to admire Juno for making the best out of a sticky situation; she continues to go to school and toughs it out for the duration of her pregnancy. She endures ridicule, getting the hairy eyeball from all of her classmates, but the character is very strong emotionally. She is confident in her ability to get through this, and she has the support of family and two good friends to help her. So I suppose that if glamourization = not letting your life fall apart, then yes, the film does glamourize teen pregnancy. One could also see it as a form of grinnng and bearing it, and making do with what you have.

That's my two cents. Go see the movie.

2008-01-17T09:33:00.000-05:00

Being sick + being preggers = unhappy mama. But I called the doctor and I can (safely) take any Tylenol product. w00t! So now I have medicine head, but I'll take that any day over coughing my head off (and most likely scaring the bejesus out of the midget hibernating in my belly) and wiping my nose every 30 seconds).

Next week (23 January, to be exact) we can celebrate National Pie Day! All of my cooking friends (and you know who you are, dahlings) need to get hopping so that we can indulge in this most holy of days. (p.s. I like cherry. Just sayin'.)

I'm always a little bit wistful on 17 January. I have no idea how I remember year after year, but today is the birthday of one of the strongest (and longest-lasting) grandfather figures I had during my youth. While my (only) biological grandfather died when I was six, Vernon was around until I was 10. Now, this is not at all to discount other grandfathers I have had (Sweet David, Bobby) but I saw Vernon on a daily basis from the time I was six weeks old until just before he died. He was awesome. He was an adult who would actually play with me, and I recall idyllic days spent exploring his (seemingly) vast yard, helping him in the garden, tinkering in the garage, or just watching the clouds. (I was also allowed to sneak a rose petal or two from the garden if Nell wasn't looking) He was the one who started the yearly ritual of looking for cicaida shells attached to trees, and I took great pleasure in passing this on to LPT this past summer.

I have no idea how old he would be today (probably up there) but I miss him all the time (even if I really only reminisce on one day in January) and I wish that LPT could have had the wonderful priviledge of knowing him as I did. I miss you, buddy.

2008-01-14T09:27:00.000-05:00

Lil' Puddin' Tater has a new word for the week. DAMN. And each time she says it, D and I have to stifle laughter because it's so funny to hear it emerging from her mouth in her little high-pitched voice. Example:

D was in the shower and LPT decided that she needed to get into the bathroom. So while I was putting laundry away in the bedroom, I hear "Daddy! I need to get in there! DADDY! Open this damn door!" Then after that, much later in the afternoon, she was trying to get into the refrigerator for some yogurt. Unfortunately, we keep a child lock on the refrigerator since she has a habit of just leaving it open. So the refrigerator was locked. This caused her to yell, "Somebody needs to open this damn refrigerator. I'm hungry."

And though she's cursing, I can't help but take some pride in the fact that she's using this word correctly, in terms of syntax.

2008-01-09T10:13:00.000-05:00

Since right before Christmas, life has been hectic. And it hasn't all been bad, but there was lots of family stuff (unexpected death, somewhat-expected illness, etc.) and then, of course, the customary craziness that accompanies the holiday season in general, especially when you have [a] midget[s] and everyone wants to see you guys. It kind of doubly sucked this year since D was sick and/or working for at least half of the family gatherings, and I had to go BY MYSELF, knocked up, with a disgruntled LPT in tow.

But all that is over, right? RIGHT?

Not quite. The somewhat-expected illness I mentioned is in reference to my grandmother, who had to be hospitalized on our anniversary (4 years and no murders yet! Woo hoo!) with a raging kidney/urinary tract infection that rendered her completely immobile and everyone thought she had suffered a stroke. (she went from kind of feeble to not being able to feed herself, walk unassisted, or go to the bathroom alone.) Since she was in such a state, my mother was reluctant to leave her at the hospital alone. So, she and her siblings traded shifts day and night while she looked at rehab facilities/nursing homes. The woman never stops.

I tell you all this as an introduction to the main point of this post: I am not a stay-at-home mom. I know, OBVIOUSLY, since I work full-time, but I mean that I have zero desire to be a stay-at-home mom. Basically, since my mother was indisposed this week and part of last week, she hasn't been able to keep LPT. Which means I don't work. And all that is completely fine. My mother does quite a bit for us in the realm of child care, and one of the perks of being employed by your stepfather is that if there's a family emergency, her knows the gravity of the situation and usually won't give any trouble if I need to take off. So I got a taste of the life of a SAHM, and I must say, it was yuck. The last time I stayed at home was when I was in the throes of PPD, so I can't recall much except wishing I could just go back to bed. But this time around, I'm not nearly so bad off! So I thought that maybe this would be fun, a week of me and LPT by ourselves, quality time and all that jazz.

I was wrong. Staying at home with a toddler (who is high-maintenance on a really good day) can make one certifiably crazy. LPT is not happy about having new addition to the family, and she has begun to act out regularly to communicate her feelings. Combine all this with her typical toddler behavior of ignoring me all the time and her incessant questions (Why do we have to have a baby? Why is it a boy? Why do people have babies? Can I have a popsicle for dinner?) And as a little added bonus, we can throw in a few (unintentional) kicks to my abdomen. By the end of the day, I wanted to scream and curl up (as best I could, what with the belly and all) in the fetal position and just be alone for a few days. I wanted nothing more than to get away and have a few moments of peace BY MYSELF. But that was not to be. Knowing there was an end in sight made it bearable, but I have renewed respect for women and men who stay at home (out of choice or necessity) with their kids. I cannot do it.

2008-01-02T10:10:00.000-05:00

Since it's been almost two months, and since a brand-New Mama has asked me to, I suppose I will begin with the posting again.

And since it's a new year, and time to begin anew, I would like to start by listing some things for which I am thankful.

1. Coffee.

2. Amazing friends (the New Mama & SweetBoobs!, each and every person I saw on the 29th, J&N, R&N, D&S and if I left anyone out, it was unintentional and I apologize.). It's a wonderful comfort to know that these are the people who are there for me no matter the circumstance, and who know (hopefully) that the feeling is reciprocal. These are the people who give me the warm fuzzies whenever we are together, and who know me (perhaps a little too) well.

3. My (ever-expanding) family. It's a mixed bag of feelings right now, with excitement topping the list. But also apprehension (how in the hell am I going to manage with TWO midgets? Especially when Lil' Puddin' Tater has made it abundantly clear that she wants no part of any baby. And she wanted a sister, not a brother, thank you very much.)

4. My extended family. (Parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, etc.) I come from good people. And they make me smile, even during the stress of the holidays. This is priceless. I feel very fortunate that though I am related to these people, I would count them among my most dear friends any day of the week.

5. Coffee. (deserves two entries)

2007-11-08T10:33:00.000-05:00

Well, I thwarted Ann Coulter and Tucker Carlson by getting involved in something as stupid as politics and voting. Assholes.

2007-11-05T13:11:00.000-05:00

Ok, before I forget (and this is really because I'm too lazy to write the link down) a really interesting article on doulas.

Now, on with the actual post. Lil' Puddin' Tater had to go to the hospital last night. She was coughing and snotting all over the place all day Sunday, and by that evening she was in pretty bad shape. She couldn't breathe, and none of the emergency medicine we have for that sort of thing seemed to be working. And then, to make things really scary, she went all lethargic on us, not talking moving or anything. Oh, and did I mention that she had a fever? She did. 101.5 degrees. And she does not get fevers. Ever. So we get to the hospital, and they take her to the pediatric emergency wing (bright colors and extra-nice nurses) where the first thign they do is give her an IV. I know she needed it, and with all the medicine she had that night, it was a better that way. But it was absolute torture watching them put it in her little hand, then watching her try really hard not to cry, then just letting go and crying so hard that she threw up. After the IV was in and she had calmed down, they wrapped it up with gauze so that she couldn't see it, and the most sweet/pathetic picture I now have is of LPT attempting to suck her thumb with a mass of tubes and gauze around her hand. But she was a trooper. She had to have a chest X-Ray, and I was unable to go with her (pregnancy and radiation don't mix - who knew?). But she was fine with D, and got a real kick out of being able to see her heart and ribs. She had to have three breathing treatments while in the ER, plus drink a dose of Motrin and she took them all without a fight. Turns out, she has bronchiolitis, and has to be on antibiotics for 10 days.

When we got home, we got her into her comfy pajamas (skiing bunnies) and gave her some cough medicine and then we went to bed. An hour later, she threw up again. But we were prepared! We took some spiffy blue barf bags from the ER, and not a drop got on our bed. And LPT just finished her business and went back to sleep, contentedly sucking her thumb.

What a night.

2007-11-02T10:24:00.000-05:00

Well, I have good news and bad news.

The Bad News:
Apparently, contrary to all logic, contraception is "not related" to pregnancy. Thank you, Kansas.(Kansas City Star)

Robert Goulet died. Am I a terrible person because this is the first thing that comes to mind when I hear his name?

The Good News:
The Good Samaritain is alive and well! After driving by a crime scene where a woman was being raped, the people in the car tackled (and subsequently beat the crap out of) the rapist as he was running away. And now, not only is the asshole is being charged with rape and assault, but with strangulation, too. So these folks pretty much saved the victim's life. (ABC News)

I'm not sure if you've heard of the Westboro Baptist Church (and your browser may not open the link) or not. Basically, it's a church in Topeka, Kansas, that believes everything bad in the world is due to homosexuality. Your son killed in Iraq? Because god hates gay people. Six children burned to death in a house fire? Because of those evil homosexuals! So this church, in an effort to spread the word, uses funerals as their platform. They routinely picket the funerals of soldiers with lovely signs, in order to follow their religious belief that they need to save people from certain damnation by letting them know just how offensive the U.S. is to god. Well, they protested at the wrong funeral. In March 2006, the funeral was held for one Lance Corporal Matthew Snyder, a marine killed in Iraq. Matthew's father, Albert Snyder, was so appalled at the protest that he sued the church for invasion of privacy and intentional infliction of emotional distress. And guess what! He won. To the tune of around 11 million dollars. The church will most likely appeal the verdict, and the leader of the church claims that this will only further his cause by drawing more publicity. And there is the sticky issue of the First Amendment; Congress has outlawed funeral protests at federal cemetaries, but Snyder's funeral was in a public one. And the protesters were 1,000 feet away, and could not be seen or heard by the funeral party. But Albert Snyder stands firm that the group ruined the memory of the funeral, and claims that he is still haunted by the images he saw that day.

I know I listed this under "good news," but maybe it's just okay news. I think everyone can agree that Westboro Baptist Church is horrendously misguided, offensive, and wretchedly inappropriate, but they do have a right to say what they say. And the problem here is that even though nobody likes them, by taking away their right to free speech, it creates a standard. I'm sure there are plenty of people offended by my opinion that abortion should be legal, free, and a private matter for the woman alone, but no one can tell me not to shout it from the rooftops. I think a viable solution to the dilemma is the one posed by a local disc jockey when the horrible fire in Bardstown, KY killed 6 children and 4 adults: when he found out that Westboro had the funeral on their list of events to protest, he contacted one of the leaders and offered an hour on his radio show for them to "spread the message" if they would completely stay away from the funeral. The show, part 1 & part 2. And I have to say, the church kept their word. Maybe we could give them a satellite radio channel or something.

2007-10-30T12:57:00.000-05:00

Have I ever blogged about MSCL before? What? What do you mean, what is MSCL? Jesus, man! It's only the MOST IMPORTANT television series ever. Seriously.

My So-Called Life ran for only 9 months in 1994-5. It was on opposite Mad About You, which was its ultimate downfall, but while it lasted, it was amazing. It perfectly captured the teenage angst/indifference/cluelessness that came with the territory of being an early teenager. Angela Chase was my idol.* And Jordan Catalano? Well, I'll just let the New York Times tell it. A Teenager in Love (so-called)

In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, here are some visuals to get you going:

*And this character has caused me to adore Claire Danes, but not always her behavior. She's with Billy Cudrup, who is the baby daddy of Mary-Louise Parker's kiddo. The thing is, Cudrup left Parker mid-pregnancy to get with Claire Danes. I'm sorry, but that is just not cool. Claire, the girl I knew would not get with a guy who was still with his expecting girlfriend. I'm just sayin'.

**And a special note to Z: I have the series on DVD. I've been meaning to burn them forever so I can give you your own copy (because you MUST watch) but I think I'll just bring the discs to the next gathering and let you borrow them for as long as necessary.

2007-10-29T13:35:00.000-05:00

Hoo boy! D and I have been discussing my previous post (the guy punches his girlfriend inthe face 3 times, the judge refuses to convict because she may have "wanted" it) and frankly, he has made me a bit peeved. Why? Because he sided with the flippin' judge! I won't even do dignity to his arguments by reprinting them here, but rest assured, they were not cool.

Anyway. For the record: I hate that my office is right across the hall from the men's bathroom. I'm sorry, but there are some funky aromas coming from that room.

Activities! Check out Learning to Love You More - it's from author/artist Miranda July and artist Harrell Fletcher. They have issued 65 (or so) assignments to the public for completion and submission, and they'll post the results on the website. Numbers 52, 51, 42, 32 and 26 are on my list.

And here's my complaint (rant?) for the week: since when does Halloween mean you have to tart yourself up? I guess for awhile, because I can recall (all those many years ago...) showing up at school dressed as a (gasp) French Maid (hey, I at least had a floor-length cape I wrapped around myself!). But looking at some costume websites (this one in particular) it would appear that the entire goal of the holiday is to make yourself over into a complete slut. For examples, see the Corrections Officer, the Referee, the Taxi Driver, and the really spiffy one, Texas Hold 'Em. But what's really worrisome is that this sexy-costume thing isn't limited to women. No, here are some wonderful options for teens (Army Brat, Classic Vixen, and Not Guilty Prisoner) and little girls! (Major Flirt, Mega Star, and Pink Bunny) Now, I'm not a total prude (though D would probably tell you differently). There's one costume I find hilarious, and would definitely wear it to a party. Feel free to disagree with me.

And out of curiosity, what's your opinion on using nooses as Halloween decorations? Is it completely inappropiate, especially considering the recent events in Jena, LA? Or are they just wholesome Halloween fun?

2007-10-25T10:46:00.001-05:00

Wow. There are occasions when you can just sit back in utter shock after reading the paper. In Maryland, a policewoman pulling into an Exxon station saw a man hit his girlfriend three times in the face. The cop had the guy arrested (and rightfully so.) But when the girlfriend neglected to show up for the trial (reasons unknown - maybe she was, I dunno, scared?) the judge, in all his infinite wisdom, decided to acquit the boyfriend because the girlfriend may have wanted to be hit. He cited some crap about sadomasochism, and said that in order to convict the boyfriend of second-degree assault, he had to be certain that "the defendant's actions were not consented to by the victim. How do you determine that without the victim?"

An excellent response to this query was given by Byron L. Warnken, a professor at the University of Baltimore School of Law: "What do we do in a murder case?"

Indeed. Because some people like that kind of stuff, and they may have consented to being killed. (The Nation)

2007-10-24T09:11:00.000-05:00

I know I've been posting lost of video clips lately, and I apologize. But allow me just one more day, please? I saw the best movie EVER last night and I'm all giddy and wanting to watch all that I can of it today. It's called Across the Universe. It's a story told entirely through Beatles songs - I know, it sounds a little weird. But it's awesome. And it certainly doesn't hurt that the lead guy is mighty easy on the eyes and can sing. It was a little awkward after the film though (which I saw with D) when he mentioned that he probably didn't get about half of the jokes and allusions in the movie because he doesn't like the Beatles. Who is this man that I married? I'm kidding, of course. Ok, watch. The first clip is my favorite scene, the bowling alley and "I've Just Seen A Face." (and Jude is looking F-I-N-E.)

Eddie Izzard!

The other male lead, Max.

2007-10-23T11:00:00.000-05:00

In a real-life version of Harold and Maude, a 24 year old man in Argentina has become a widower after the death of his new bride (aged 82) from heart problems shortly after returning from their honeymoon.

Why Stephen Colbert should be president

2007-10-23T09:46:00.000-05:00

(or at least Favorite Son) (and he has his own ice cream!)
I love Bush's slow realization that Colbert is actually making fun of him.

part 1

part 2

part 3

2007-10-20T13:41:00.000-05:00

I have to state for the record that I am in complete awe of anyone who actually acomplishes anything while working from home. I had to do it this past week, and lawdy! LPT would not stop talking (screaming) for anything, especially something as trivial as a telephone call. Sheesh. And I couldn't get my work email set up to where I could read it at home, so we had to make these sporadic jaunts into the office with me looking like something the cat dragged in and LPT runniing up and down the halls and ignoring me. Add to that a complete lack of faith from the management and you have a very grouchy mama.

On the bright side, we do have a WONDERFUL friend who helped us out SO MUCH this week; see, our ceiling was falling down. And T came right in and FIXED IT. Apparently, the geniuses who built our house decided to put up the drywall for the ceiling with smallish nails, instead of the typical honking drywall screws. So teh nails had worked loose, and we were all set to have our heads bonked by falling ceiling-stuff. I know that T felt bad for leaving a column in the living room for a ocuple of days, but he's being a saint about cost, and he put up with LPT watching him the entire time they happened to be in the house at the same time and offering such comments as, "This is my doll." T was such a trooper.

And I know this is probably a great indication of what our relationship is like, but I'll go ahead and relay it anyway. The other night, after she spent the day coughing and snotting all over everything, D was trying to get LPT into bed with little success. So I walked in while she was on his lap crying, and suddenly she puked EVERYWHERE. As in ALL OVER HIM. D doesn't like vomit. (Ok, who does? But he gets really grossed out by it, going so far as to attempt to throw out instead of washing anything with vomit on it.) So as I was washing LPT off in the tub, he was cringing and removing his clothes after his "Vomit Bath." Maybe it's because LPT has blown chunks all over me so many times, but seeing him completely covered in the stuff made me smile and get fuzzy inside. Is that wrong?

On a totally unrealted (and wretchedly shallow) note, I found out that a guy I dated ages ago likes his girls to be...on the larger side. So what does that say for me?

2007-10-12T13:59:00.000-05:00

Why does J.Crew suck, you ask? Well, allow me to show you:

The Kerin Dress - $450

Crocodile Ballet Flats - $495

Printed Calf-Hair Sofia Clutch - $350

Distressed-Leather Jacket (for the under 10 set) - $350

Ski-Print Merino Cardigan (again, for those aged 2 to 10) - $78

Who buys a $350 coat for a toddler? Or a frigging merino wool sweater (hand wash only, folks) for someone who makes a habit of getting messy and wadding things up? Does anyone remember the days of J.Crew when things were only slightly out of our price range? For instance, if you saw a spiffy chunky turtleneck sweater, you hoped it would be $50, but it turned out to be $78? Where is all this luxury coming from? And why? I used to look forward to J.Crew's winter catalogue, but now, I find myself disgusted. The impracticality of almost everything they sell is astonishing. I used to be able to get really substantial sweaters and shoes for twenty bucks when their clearance catalogues would come out. (an old boyfrind and I used to have matching rubber boots! how cool is that?) I guess those days are long gone.

2007-10-12T08:32:00.000-05:00

The other day in our local paper there was a reader letter (3rd one down, "Make abortion illegal") addressing the legality of abortion. After reading it, I immediately was incensed at the oversimplification of the issue and pretty much every single one of her arguments. So on Wednesday, I wrote a letter to my editor. I tried to keep it under 200 words as they instruct, but I was a little too fired up - it would up being a little over double that length. But when I opened the paper yesterday, there it was! I know it's just an editorial, but I have never seen my name in anything that is available to the masses (besides this blog? whatever), so I was pretty stoked. Anyway, for your reading pleasure, here you go. (2nd one down, "Women need 'choice'")

And Mr. Gore won the Nobel Prize. That makes me happy.

2007-10-11T10:54:00.000-05:00

As though women don't feel guilty enough about leaving their children at daycare: A 16-month old girl was left asleep in a high chair for two hours after her daycare center had closed and locked up for the night. He mother was able to see her through a window and would up calling 911. Firefighters had to break the door down. The kid was ultimately ok, but JEEZ. I guess that will teach mom not to be late again! The really sad part of this is that, despite the ridiculous lack of responsibility on the part of the daycare, at least one mother is still going to take her child there. Does she enjoy playing roulette with what neglect her kid will endure from day to day? Nope - she just doesn't have anywhere alse to go for childcare. (don't even get me started on what crap that is.)

So I have a friend. (woo hoo! go me!) And this particular friend is a huge fan of home birth; she's a licensed doula, and has tried valiantly to give birth in a kiddy pool in her living room. (there were complications and the midwife made her go to the hospital - c-section) And having a discussion with her about home birth can definitely highlight the perks of participating in such an event. Hey, there have even been nights when I threw my reasoning out the window and actually considered where in my house would be the best place. (fyi: I don't want to clean that shit up anywhere in my house.)

But I read a post today over at Strollerderby. It references an article at Daily Mail about the pros and cons of home births. And I think I have to count myself among the women who will never EVER give birth anywhere but in a hospital. To quote the Strollerderby author (which pretty much sums up my opinion on the whole thing): "I did not have a beautiful, comfortable, meaningful labor. Was that because I was at the hospital? No, it was because my labor hurt like an unholy motherf*cker." Amen to that.

2007-10-10T11:58:00.000-05:00

I have found a chair that is truly me. Granted, I would have added some cushion, perhaps, but overall, the design is perfect. I present to you: Bookinist. It works like a pushcart, and can store around 80 paperbacks in the sides and back, along with all sorts of reading accessories in the arm. The only real problem I can see is the HEINOUS price: 2127.00 euros. Which is about 4254 dollars, give or take. DAMN.

And I think I can safely say that it's finally fall here. We had a chilly morning, the first in months, and instead of putting a light jacket on her, I let LPT leave the house without shoes and only her "bridal" dress on. I am an awesome mother.

D and I watched Superbad last night. It was wonderful to laugh at truly adolescent humor. And my, the film was rife with it. And I completely cracked up just now watching the trailer again.

Good times.

2007-10-08T10:35:00.000-05:00

Oh, what an eventful past few days we've had. LPT has discovered the joys of glitter, and now our house had officially been glamourised. She glittered D's XBox, our TV, the credenza upon which all the entertainment technology rests, my office chair, the bathroom rug, and of course, me and D over and over. She also spilled it on her dress she was wearing at the time (more on that later) so that when you pick the item of clothing up, it acts as a huge glitter-dispersal unit. LPT also discovered the slightly evil side of glitter since she had it all over hands, and thus her thumb, and decided that glitter may be pretty, but it sure tastes like poo.

The dress of which I speak was no average dress, mind you. My mother went to T.J. Maxx and found a bridal costume for small children. It almost looks like a communion dress, but you can tell it's a costume. It white (duh) and the floor-length skirt has a giant hoop in it. LPT refuses to wear it unless she can have her "heels and lipstick," because really, who wants to be all gussied up and short with pale lips? And of course, since we had to run errands yesterday, and D foolishly told her she could wear a dress, she chose to go out and about as a princess bride, calling everyone "her buddy." (Seriously. First it was the Silver Surfer display at Circuit City, then it was a random african american man in the parking lot, then it was a lady in the car next to us at the stop light.)

Then there was the moment in the tub when she responded loudly to an persnickety toy: "I mean SERIOUSLY!"

And my favorite story of all this weekend, and D will probably hold it against me forever that I told, but here goes. Ok, D sleeps (as I am sure many do) in boxer shorts and a t-shirt. And being a guy, when he wakes up...you know what I mean. He usually goes straight to the bathroom without interruptions, but on Friday morning LPT stopped him in the living room. She gave him a once-over, and then asked, "Hey Daddy, what's that inyour pocket?" I was drinking some water at that moment and nearly choked. D turned red and tried (in vain) to get to the bathroom without further comment, but LPT, ever persistent, followed him until he shut the door in her face, asking "C'mon Daddy! Tell me what's in your pocket!" It took a lot of self-control on my part not to let loose with a string of uncouth jokes, but I had to tell myself again and again that she is three and wouldn't get them anyway. I hope.

2007-10-03T10:21:00.000-05:00

Well, I rescind my last post a little bit. HAPPY FALL MY ASS. The high today is 85, and the high this weekend is 90. The leaves are dying, but this ain't fall.

Lil' Puddin' Tater has decided that she wants to be a witch for Halloween. With a green face! And a long nose! And a pointy hat! So, I got her a broom and face paint and a nose from Target, along with a pointy hat with silver stars on it. My mother is firmly in the mindset that she should probably be a princess or something "nicer." She keeps showing LPT all these frilly dresses, but (yay for my daughter!) she's standing firm for dressing up as something not quite so prim.

Have you had the opportunity to see these ads from Dove? There's a bit of controversy about right now regarding the first one (Onslaught), mostly having to do with corporate ties/ownership that has to do with Dove, but I think they're great. We can talk til the cows come home about how everything is airbrushed to death, or that models don't really look like that in real life. But the Evolution ad sums it up without having to say anything. Onslaught personally makes me feel terrible because I know that LPT will be exposed to all that (psh - who am I kidding? She already has) and no matter what I say or do, it will affect her. Hell, she's seen me try on 20 different articles of clothing (no jokes from those who know me well, please!) trying to find something that looks suitable, and she's also heard me and others feeling good when we're told that we look like we have lost weight. Fortunately, right now a big stomach is a novelty for LPT - we guess what "filled it up" (i.e. macaroni & cheese, milk, juice, etc.) and she struts proudly, letting her tummy pooch do just that. But I wonder how long all this will last - when will she start liking the clothes in Limited Too that put more focus on her body? And what reaction will she have if her body doesn't look "as it should?" Below, a selection of items from Limited Too.

2007-10-01T13:58:00.000-05:00

Happy October, everyone! Happy Fall! I think the only time I really enjoy living in this allergy-laden valley is during the fall. Everything is SO pretty, and the air is crisp and somehow smells really good most, if not all of the time. To the left, you can see a very picturesque street in the HIghlands, (backing up my 'pretty' claim perfectly) which is hands-down the best place to live in Louisville. I know this because I left the Highlands when LPT was born (what a fool I was!) and settled in St. Matthews, which is very close to the Highlands, but far enough away from downtown that the yuppies feel safe. I live among yuppies.

We went to the zoo this weekend, and finally got to see Scotty (piss poor name), the baby elephant. Adorable. Although LPT was in a wretched mood - refusing to look at the animals, wanting to see THE ALLIGATOR AND SPIDERS NOW! and refusing to admit her hunger when we went to lunch. Then, horror of horrors, I THREW AWAY HER JUICE. Granted, there were bees all around it and possibly a dead bee physically in the bottle, but to throw it away?! In her words, Jeez, mom! That was MINE! We also got to see all sorts of people, and I discovered that going to the zoo on a beautiful day is kind of like going to the fair. You see exactly who makes up this city, warts and all. Not that I am being elitist here. I mean, we were the group with the squealing kind who would not sit in the stroller properly (feet firmly planted on the ground or on the wheels themselves) and the mother with the huge sweat stain on her chest from where her bag had been slung across her body. We were cute, let me tell you.

And I would like to take a moment to convey just how ridiculous things are: a coke at the zoo is currently $4.99. Yes, you read that correctly. It's about the size of a McDonald's medium, too. What about refills? They're $1.99. The soda and water machines cost $2.00, and there are little traps all around to make you spend more. For example, at the bottom of a very long (very long) hill, they conveniently place the kiosk to purchase Tram tickets. You can purchase these tickets at the entrance, but at that point everyone is happy and confident that they can make it through the tour of animals. Then, approximately every 30 feet or so, there is a Dippin' Dots stand where, for $2.50, you can get a thimble-full of dry ice cream. And all this is in addition to the numerous "DONATE TO THE ZOO OR YOU ARE A TERRIBLE PERSON" boxes scattered about the property.

And, adding to my joy, a large woman happened to be camped out on a bench in the Herpaquarium (I don't know if that is the right name or not - it's basically the building where they have the reptiles and spiders (!) and Vampire bats.) When I sat down next to her (this was after the heinously long hill) she asked me if I was pregnant. I said yes. She asked when I was due. I told her May, and she got all wide-eyed and asked me if I was sure I was having just one (ha. ha.) because I was SO big. I never know quite what to say to people when they ask questions like that. It happened when I was preggers with LPT, too. I guess I should have pointed to D and said, "We grow 'em big like their daddy!" in some backwoods manner. And yes, I am showing more with this midget than I did with LPT. But I was a lot smaller when I got pregnant the first time, and my muscles didn't know what to do or to what extent they were going to stretch, so I was pretty smallish (or at least average) until the bitter end (ugh...July and the attack of the cicaidas) Now, however, my body knows what's up and has decided to let it all hang out, so to speak, like everyone does at Thanksgiving after the meal. The muscles, knowing that they will soon be suffering, have decided to go ahead and throw in the towel and relax while they can. I'm cool with this. But not when it is pointed out to me, overtly and in public by someone with whom I am not on familiar terms. There, I said it.

The complaint(s)

2007-09-28T10:28:00.000-05:00

Will this heinousness ever end? Not only am I queasy half of the time, but now it's my morning shower that contributes to the nausea. And I'm not EVEN going to go into how coffee (my beloved coffee! WHY?) makes the ol' stomach turn. As a result of my stomach's ongoing strike, I think I am actually losing weight (well, maybe not losing...but definitely not gaining either - we'll call it net). My pregnancy jeans that I purchased a few weeks ago are falling down. (oh yes - I look mighty cute. Saggy drawers are in!)

So I have been relegated to...soup. Specifically tomato, but any kind will do. And the soup has the added benefit of keeping me warm, since I have had the chills like crazy recently. (I know - chills? Moi? Poster child for perspiration?)

Ugh. At least I get to leave early today and nap with LPT. Sleep is my only refuge!

2007-09-27T12:59:00.000-05:00

Finally, some retribution! In Virginia, it's a class C misdemeanor to annoy someone over the telephone. (maybe I should move to Virginia - Mom, are you listening?) Using this law, a man was convicted of sending annoying text messages to an ex-girlfriend. w00t.

LPT had picture day at her preschool today. When I asked her if she smiled, she shook her head no, and then made some silly face with her tongue sticking out. I can't wait for those pics to come back. Although, I don't see what the big deal about picture day is - I distinctly remember my mother painstakingly trying to run a brush through my hair and get it to lay "just so" before going to school on those extra-special days. I looked retarded most of the time. More importantly, I looked nothing like myself. I never wore my hair curled. Nor did I go to school in pretty dresses and tights - I was a t-shirt kind of kid. And really, shouldn't that be the goal with school pictures? To capture what you looked like at that moment in time? So I suppose I kind of hope she did stick out her tongue. That would definitely be an accurate reflection of her demeanor right now.

In Tennessee, if a guy gives an engagement ring and then the engagement is broken (no matter by whom) the ring is his. Apparently, it's a conditional gift. That's all fine and good, but I believe that there ought to be circumstantial exceptions to the rule. What if the buyer of the ring was...ahem...stepping out?

I want one of these.

And I'm going to start trying my hand at sewing. In the past, I have had no patience for the task, but I think that I am up to the challenge now. I have lofty plans of hand-making all my holiday gifts (you can go ahead and laugh). But I did find this mega chouette pattern the other day - and the skirt would fit all of my (incredibly small-waisted) friends perfectly.

2007-09-26T11:22:00.000-05:00

I think I can honestly say that I have never wanted a cupcake more than right now. While I was doing my usual cruise for news at the New York Times, I came across this article - Don't Even Think About Touching That Cupcake. It talks about how cupcakes are being banned from some schools due to their distinct lack of nutritional value. However, this cupcake ban has many up in arms - cupcakes are just wonderful! How could anyone say differently?

Well, I went to a website mentioned in the article called Cupcakes Take The Cake, which officially began my downward spiral into Flickr. But I did see some completely wonderful cupcakes, and now I am craving them something awful.
J and I tried to make something like the "Toffee Tumbler" cupcake, except bigger (and thus much messier) around Christmas, and the entire thing fell apart and we were left munching on sticky doughnuts for the rest of the evening.

And LPT is getting more and more upset when she sees me in the middle of the day. Sometimes my mom will stop by and bring lunch, or sometimes I'll go to her house. LPT freaks out whenever I have to leave, screaming "No, Mommy! Don't go!" And every time it reminds me of that horrible scene in Sophie's Choice where she decides to let the Nazis take her daughter. Guilt overload.

2007-09-24T10:23:00.000-05:00

I'm beginning to think that my body is suddenly anti-pregnancy. I'm feeling okay today, but I was hella queasy all last week and the week before, and on Friday I had to leave work early because I had a fever. What is going on? I hope this is no indication of what the actual midget will be like, because I'm not sure I could handle that. AND I've been having some strange dreams. I know that pregnant women often have...(ahem) interesting dreams, but these are beginning to freak me out. They're very real, and they each night they involve someone I have dated in the past.

LPT is driving me berserk. She has morphed into teenage mode, complete with responses like an exasperated "No, mom! Gosh! Jeez!" and slamming of doors. This behavior makes me want to scream. That, and she's figured out that when I'm in the shower is the best time to climb to dangerous heights in the kitchen and scavenge for candy. Though perhaps I should be glad that she's sharing: the other morning, she came into the bathroom during my shower with one Dum-Dum sucker in her mouth and one for me, too.

I have a new theme in my cooking. RUSTICA. E made an onion tart the other day and it was fabulous. When I asked her about how she did it, she informed me it was completely easy, just throw a few things together and do the absolute minimal in terms of making it look "nice" and "neat" and bake the sucker. Less effort for super food? Sounds like my kind of thing.

Oh, and I would like to make a statement regarding the eternal messiness of my bedroom: those piles of clothes have meaning! I'm aspiring to be like Corriette Schoenaerts, who is the creator of this wonderful photo. Look closely at the overall shape of the clothes. Does it maybe resemble a continent?

2007-09-20T12:53:00.000-05:00

I think I have finally found the hands-down UGLIEST article of clothing ever in the world. Allow me to present to you....bikini jeans!

Yeah. I don't think I need to say much more, except that if you go the link, you will see a picture of a very unfortunate woman wearing these in white.

While still reeling from those, I saw the most frivolous lawsuit ever: Nebraska state senator Ernie Chambers (D) is suing God. Now, I'm sure many of you are saying, "It's about damn time! Who does that God fellow think he is, anyway?" The rest may be wondering why Sen. Chambers, once called "the angriest black man in Nebraska," would undertake such a grand gesture. Well, he's sick of everything, that's why!

The lawsuit accuses God “of making and continuing to make terroristic threats of grave harm to innumerable persons, including constituents of Plaintiff who Plaintiff has the duty to represent.” It says God has caused “fearsome floods, egregious earthquakes, horrendous hurricanes, terrifying tornadoes, pestilential plagues, ferocious famines, devastating droughts, genocidal wars, birth defects and the like.” (It's a shame he had to stick in genocidal wars and birth defects. I was enjoying the alliteration!) The suit also claims God has caused “calamitous catastrophes resulting in the wide-spread death, destruction and terrorization of millions upon millions of the Earth’s inhabitants including innocent babes, infants, children, the aged and infirm without mercy or distinction.” Chambers also says that God “has manifested neither compassion nor remorse, proclaiming that [the] defendant will laugh” when catastrophe strikes.

And yesterday was a very long day, even though I didn't have to go to work. A's grandfather passed on Saturday, and the funeral was yesterday. I did not know her grandfather (affectionately called "Dandy") very well, but when I finally drove home alone after the actual service, graveside service, and obligatory (huge) meal at the church, I felt distinctly sad at the passing of someone so wonderful. [cliché alert] He meant so much to (seemingly) everyone he had cause to know, and almost every memory recounted that day involved him giving or doing for someone, no matter the situation. I know that I can be empathetic to a fault,* but Dandy's funeral was one of the saddest I have ever attended, and I was glad to have been there to discover more about a very good man. I love you, A.

*Empathetic to a fault: last night D and I went to dinner and a movie. He had been talking about how he loved the new Halloween movie because it gave a much more psychological view of Michael Myers and his descent into madness than the usual slasher flick. So I thought, why not? Well, I'm not sure if it's because I'm preggers or what, but that movie almost made me ralph. I made it to the gunshot scene (shortly after the fork scene) and then had to leave the theatre. I suppose that now I know that I cannot watch someone being bludgeoned to death without becoming horrified and tossing my cookies.

2007-09-18T09:55:00.000-05:00

Want to shudder? Admit that you are from the same state as this girl. I know that MTV's My Super Sweet 16 is supposed to highlight the bitchiest teens / daddy's girls in the world, but hoo boy! This one takes the cake. I don't know if she makes me mad because she's so awful, or that she's from Campbellsville. Ugh. And you know that at least a handful of people are going to be in therapy later in life because of her. She's that one element of high school - the megabitch cheerleader dating the football player who dumps on everyone because she can.

Ok, I've spent enough time on her. On to brighter topics! I found this wall decal from Blik featured on Threadless - so cool. I love that it isn't that sappy-sweet soft-focus design of so much kids' stuff. And how wonderful to think that giraffes and elephants will save a burning building!

And does anyone remember that incident at McDonald's in Mount Washington a few years ago? The restaurant received a phone call from a man claiming to be a detective, accusing one of the employees of stealing. He instructed the assistant manager to strip-search her in the office, then things went to hell in a handbasket because the manager called her boyfriend in to stay on the phone while she tended to customers. The poor girl had to do all sorts of unsavory things, and then some random customer was instructed to come in and watch (via orders from the "detective"). Get the details here.

Anyway, in the Courier-Journal today, there was a huge article talking about how McDonald's (corporate) knew of 30 other similar incidents occurring at company-owned and franchise stores around the country and did not volunteer this information to anyone before or after the Mt. Washington incident occurred. Excuses ranged from "no one asked for the information" to "legally, we do not have an obligation to franchise employees" to "it was not our responsibility."

2007-09-17T13:45:00.000-05:00

Southwest has a new ad campaign advertising its "Skimpy Fares." Classy.

And now you can buy a veritable Tommy Gun for your little mobster - has anyone seen the commercial for this thing? It makes NO SENSE. (I would definitely post it, but alas, I cannot find it.)

And Greenspan is releasing his memoirs. I love this guy. He routinely made all my economics professors in college have to rewrite their lectures because he continually dropped the interest rate. With every drop, the profs would decalre that it could not possibly go any lower, and then in the next class would scramble to explain why Greenspan had done it again. And really, how could you not love a guy who wrote the book in the bathtub? It's officially on my wishlist.

And to everyone who would like to read more books, but don't have the time to actually sit down and read one: I bring you Daily Lit, a site where you can sign up to receive books in parts via email or RSS. Personally, I'm reading The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald in 160 increments, one delivered to my inbox daily. This may even give you a fighting chance of finishing War and Peace!

2007-09-14T14:03:00.000-05:00

So my friend A has, in the past, had this habit of dating strange guys. They seemed nice at first, then they went all psycho on her, and did things like bang on the front doors of friends' apartments screaming "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" and woke up half the neighborhood in the process. But I now think that maybe A had it easy dealing with her guys. This crazy (lovesick?) imbecile injected a syringe of his blood into his longtime crush after she spurned his advances because, "He thought if he could not marry her, at least his blood can stay inside her body." What a looney.

But anyway, look at these spiffy shoes! They're available on Etsy, from Brooklyn Handmade. Usually kids are the sole recipients of such cool footwear, but these little babies are for grown-ups.

Below you can see some of the other offerings (sadly, only for the midgets) on Etsy. And the Rosie the Riveter shirt is officially on my wish list. (it's for those in the family way such as meself)

2007-09-13T10:14:00.000-05:00

Two items in the news have me ON FIRE. Number one: Southwest found fault with another girl's outfit. This is bullshit. I had a shirt like that in my pre-baby years, and I never got a second glance. Maybe my chest just wasn't ample enough? Number two: If I tattoo DO NOT RESUSCITATE on my chest, I think that is a pretty clear indication of my wishes. Remind me not to have an accident in Iowa.

And finally, an invention I can really get behind: A voice-stress ice-cream dispenser. The machine asks you a series of questions, records your answers and analyzes them for how stressed out/sad you are. The worse you feel, the more ice cream you receive. Why didn't someone think of this sooner?

I had the ultrasound today. I'm not as far along as I thought - only 6-7 weeks. (I think now I can feel less guilty about at least one party I attended.) But as an indulgence to me, I'm posting the ultrasound picture. They labeled the little squiggle that is the baby, so it's not quite as confusing. Just look at the little dot in the middle of the black circle. Otherwise, I'd like to introduce you to my uterus!

2007-09-11T09:43:00.000-05:00

D is out of town and living it up in the City of Sin - I told him that as long as he didn't bring home the clap, I would be cool. While he's gone, A and I had a pathetically short My So-Called Life "marathon" last night. Not to say that we didn't have fun, and I for one relish time spent laying back and talking. But marathon? We got through three episodes. Maybe we're just getting old.

Oy. I don't think I even have the energy to rant about this site. (not Feministing, the other one.) Just know that I am one of many people who are irritated and completely sick of all these utter lies masquerading as facts making their way to teenagers everywhere.

Ok, on a lighter note, I went to the OB-GYN today to see just what is going on with this "baby" business - how far along, when am I due, etc. It would appear that I am between 9 and 11 weeks, and that puts me having a baby in early April. Which means it will be an Aries (scroll down the link page for parent-child relationships). And just a little aside here, I hate peeing into cups. I suddenly become all thumbs, and frequently do what I did this morning: spill it all over myself in the attempt to sit it on the side of the sink.

And here's Modern Love. Read it.

2007-09-10T12:39:00.000-05:00

Ah, Mo Rocca. You never fail to deliver.

Cuppa joe

2007-09-07T13:25:00.000-05:00

I am astonished. Apparently, Southwest Airlines is dispensing fashion advice, and getting all pissy when people don't listen to them. Kyla Ebbert was escorted off her flight to Tucson (she was going for an appointment with a doctor) by a customer service supervisor named Keith because her whole outfit was offensive. Was she dressed in dominatrix gear? No. Perhaps an outfit Britney Spears would wear? No. She had the audacity to wear a white miniskirt, a tank top (with separate bra underneath), a cardigan, and heels. Now, personally, I don't approve of miniskirts with heels, but I'll give a bit of leeway on this one. When she protested to "Keith" that she was only going to be in Tucson for a few hours and thus did not have luggage carrying ostensibly more appropriate clothing, he told her that she should go home and change then take a later flight. It was only when she cited the appointment time that he reluctantly let her back on the plane, but she had to pull her skirt down and pull her tank top up.

On a lighter note, Philippine president Joseph Estrada will have mistresses "from 02 to 08" tesitfy against him in the impeachment trial to discover how he acquired his "unexplained wealth." He apparently was very free in his spending on the ladies, giving a mansion and other properties as cadeaux. And even better, one of the mistresses is named Peachy!

And I am officially a high-maintenance coffee drinker. I always made fun of people who had outrageously long coffee orders, but today as the barista at Starbucks (please don't hate me! it's fall and they have a marvelous drink) handed me my beverage, he jauntily said, "Ok, here's your grande nonfat no whip pumpkin spice latte. Have a great day!" That's 5 specifications, folks. Does that make me a yuppie?

And finally, I have a new goal for myself in the kitchen. I would like to take this opportunity to notify my friend B (spouse of P - yes, that means you) that she is fully expected to make these as well, since she's quite the Martha.

2007-09-06T12:23:00.001-05:00

Well, it's about damn time someone came to a conclusion on this: if a woman gets an abortion, she should go to jail for 15 years to life, taking into consideration her circumstances. And what would those circumstances be? If she is coerced into the deed by a husband, boyfriend, or parent. (Catholic Online)

All this is in response to an article by Anna Quindlen of Newsweek called How Much Jail Time? In it, she poses the very question: if abortion were to be outlawed, it would be a crime to have one. So what would the punishment be for these women having abortions? It's a question most people haven't pondered (I'll admit, it never crossed my mind until seeing a certain video - but more on that later) because everyone is caught up in the (admittedly slightly bigger) question of whether abortion should be legal or not. Is it murder? Is there ever an allowance for it?

There's a video on YouTube that attempts to answer that question of punishment. In it, a man approaches a pro-life protest in Libertyville and asks each of the people what they think the consequences should be for a woman who has an abortion. Their answers are swell - "It's between her and God." "Counseling." But these people think that abortion is murder! What if we sentenced all murderers to counseling? Maybe we should just sterilize all the women who have abortions, so that there's no chance of them doing it again. I mean, if they don't want kids, they don't need the parts, right? Or maybe we could just make them wear a big red A on their tummies, so that the rest of society can throw things at her and forever remind her that she didn't have a baby she could afford, didn't want, etc.

Ms. Quindlen ends her column with a tough ultimatum: "But there are only two logical choices: hold women accountable for a criminal act by sending them to prison, or refuse to criminalize the act in the first place. If you can't countenance the first, you have to accept the second. You can't have it both ways."

How true. But then, Catholic Online contributor Matt Abbott decided to come up with a real answer in his op/ed column titled The abortion-seeking woman: perpetrator or victim? In it, he proposes the sentence mentioned at the beginning of this post. Now, I give kudos to the author for presenting his argument in a rational, non-bible-thumping manner; he even acknowledges that many will probably not agree with him.

He does mention that even discussing the issue is somewhat an act of futility, since "sadly, abortion is still legal." I could not disagree more. The whole muddy debacle that is the pro-choice vs. pro-life argument needs to take into account all possible outcomes of their actions. Myself, being of the pro-choice persuasion, I don't think we should go throwing women in jail because they exercised a choice and decided that every child in their lives should be wanted. However, rallying like the dickens to get the procedure outlawed (South Dakota is almost there, folks) and then to simply shrug your shoulders when asked about the repercussions is just poor planning. In addition to the punishment question, I would also like to see real solutions to the cost of prenatal care for all these women who have to keep their pregnancies viable, as well as the cost of raising a child she may have been ill-prepared to have. And who will pay for counseling if the woman is a victim of rape? Or incest? What happens to these kids?

So the argument goes way beyond the initial moral question. Economics and the legal system have places, too.

Oy.

2007-09-05T09:15:00.000-05:00

So let's just establish right now that giving birth is messy. It ain't pretty, and I don't think I would want to wear (and heinously stain) my own clothes during the process. Apparently, there are those who do not feel the same way.

I found this company, Binsi (via Jezebel) that makes skirts and tops to wear while in labor. They're cute, and I would definitely waer them before and after the deed. And the owners of the company have taken into account the sensitive (itchy as hell) skin that comes with pregnancy, the need for easy accessability concerning your hospital visit (IVs, epidurals, baby monitors, etc.) But precisely because these things are so cute, why the hell would I want to wear them during (arguably) one of the messiest times of my life? That's why hospital gowns are open in the back; I can't really see myself being "so thankful" for the mass of pleats in the back (while still looking chic and streamlined in the front! because that's exactly what is on my mind while having a baby - does my skirt look tailored?)

Then there's the idea that Jezebel brought up: you must be cute and look nice at all times. There is no room for just letting it all hang out, or just saying "Screw you guys, I'm having a baby without makeup or stylish clothes and I am comfortable with that. Now gimme a popsicle."

2007-09-04T10:01:00.000-05:00

I have a new favorite photographer. His name is Matt Stuart, and his photos are quite witty. See all of his portfolio here.

And, in my (never-ending) quest for spiffy design stuff, I found this! It's a stone tile that you can incorporate into any paved area, allowing for a bit o' green to peek through. I think it's swell, and would like to have several to make a patio and border.

And then (can you possibly withstand any more?) I was cruising around the interweb, looking for cheap maternity clothing, and I found this website. And then I shuddered and began trying to figure out (a) how in the hell you are supposed to use the bathroom once in such a contraption, and (b) how in the hell a pregnant woman, out of breath, hot and cranky is supposed to squeeze herself into such a contraption. No me gusta. Although, if it did not cost $120, I would definitely give it to people as a joke at a baby shower. And I can just see the excitement on D's face if I owned one of these things. For this and a matching men's version, go here.

Yay for not working

2007-09-03T11:46:00.000-05:00

Ok, once again - have you all read Modern Love this week? Get on it. And not to further worsen the neurosis of the author, but I tell LPT "I love you" all the time. It's probably because my dad and most certainly my mom told me all the time. Come to think of it, most of the people in all my family extensions have always been fairly frequent with verbal expressions of affection. But it takes all kinds - my friend A's family were never really big on hugs, so when she first started coming to see mine, she had to do some major adjusting, and quick. And LPT has inherited the affection-displaying gene. She will hug and kiss with the best of 'em.

And I was going to save this for post-doctor visit, but I'll just go ahead and put it in writing: there's a new midget on the way. And I'm guessing it'll arrive in about 7 months, but I'll know for sure on the 11th (my appointment).

And now that that's out of the way (thus explaining away my obvious tummy and cranky disposition), I have to go chase the midget (no work = no babysitter = a mom on the go)

movin' and groovin'

2007-08-31T12:23:00.000-05:00

I hate change. Yeah, I may claim to enjoy a dramatic life change, or express a desire to just up and leave one day, bound for Tokyo, but it just isn't in me. I like my house too much, my comfy bed, and my books. However, all bets are off when it comes to changing the interior of my living space. D cannot stand how, around each season change, I suddenly have the desire to rearrange the furniture, "edit" the rooms, or add something spiffy. Well, this season change "makeover" was a doozie. Here is a poorly-drawn representation of the layout of our house. Now picture it with our bedroom where the dining room is. I picked up some old doors at a yard sale last year (two years ago?) and they are going on the two entrances to the old dining room.

Now, this may not look like much, but it involved a crapload of moving (large) furniture. Not only did the china cabinet have to make its way down the hallway and into the study, but our gi-normous bed frame, box spring, and unweilding matress had to come downstairs, with lots of tricky corners. We had our first night in the new room last night, and it was strange to have the ceiling so far away (upstairs the ceilings are vaulted).

But now, our room is so cool! It's orange! And bright! and there is room to move! In a word, awesome. It isn't cleaned up yet, but we're working on it. And last night, D and I installed a ceiling fan all by ourselves. I must admit, I thought I was going to have to slug him a few times (doing that whole macho-I can-do-it-because-I'm-a-man thing) but in the end, it turned out well. (He did, however, pull a butt muscle. Karma ain't pretty.)
And voilà: the photos. (Oh yeah, and I replaced two light fixtures ALONE yesterday, too. My stepmother gave me the confidence to go ahead and do it, regardless of knowing nothing about electricity.)

2007-08-30T13:04:00.000-05:00

I loved mix tapes. They were a perfect medium through which to express all sorts of feelings, and there's nothing better for long car trips. Sadly, the mix tape has gone the way of the 8-track. Now, the big thing is mp3 players, which can be nice, but they usually take all your music and mix it up. There's no thought, no time put into selecting each and every song to describe whatever emotion you wanted to convey.

Well, have I got something for you! (of course I do - don't I always?) A mix tape USB from the (every-lovely) SUCK UK. Yes, one could argue that it's just a regular USB, but I love it. Call me a sucker for packaging. And can't you just see your friends' faces when they open their customized "mix tape?" Priceless. (and while at the site, check out the smoking mittens. Genius!)

2007-08-29T13:26:00.001-05:00

Finally, a picture of Bush (no pun intended) that shows his true colors. The lovely work was created by British artist Jonathan Yeo, in retaliation for the actions of the Bush Library in backing out of a commission for Yeo to complete a "proper" portrait of the president. I think this one is plenty proper, myself. In case you can't make out what those images are that compose the president's face, let's just say that it's a portion of female anatomy. Yeo scoured hundreds of "top shelf" porn magazines to find the perfect images to create the likeness. Hehe. (Much more graphic image here.)

And on a completely unrelated note, let's all breathe a sigh of relief knowing that the Botox needs of the United States are being met. (I know I was worried.) Because nationwide, if you want Botox, you'll wait about 8 days to see a dermatologist. If you need a mole checked out (like to make sure it isn't CANCER or something) you'll wait 26 days, on average. Some waits were up to 35 days.

Did you realize that you can see the inside of lots of people's houses for free if you go to any of the many home-exchange websites? Seriously, sometimes I use them for design inspiration. But I feel a little guilty, like I'm intruding or something. Oh well.

2007-08-27T10:27:00.000-05:00

It's Monday, folks! Has everyone read Modern Love? No? Ok, here's the link:

(why have you not already read this?) The Rubble of My Marriage, Hidden by Katrina's

Anywho, I get to go to the doctor today with LPT. (And you'll have to forgive me because I'm about to go into talk-lots-about my-kid-kind-of-mom mode) See, our Lil' Puddin' Tater has asthma. She has to use a nebulizer (she's nowhere near as happy as the little girl in the photo) twice a day and take a little chewable pill at night. Occasionally, she has to pop a Claritin if her allergies will be on high alert - bad ozone day, dust, mold, pollen, etc. Then, if things get really, bad and she is wheezy and can't really breathe, we have to bust out the nebulizer and in addition to her twice-daily medication, she gets to have a "treatment," which basically opens up her lungs.

Ok, there's the background. Now, to why we're going to see the "gockter," as LPT refers to it. Yesterday, LPT wasn't breathing so well. She was slightly lethargic (read: not enough oxygen) and over the course of the day, we administered three emergency treatments. None of these did quite as well as they should have. As a result, she was wheezing & raspy, and coughing her head off. So D and I spent a fairly restless night with LPT between us so that we could continue to make sure her wee chest was still going up & down.

So we have to see if it's the medication failing to do its job, or whether LPT is just reacting poorly.

Chillin'.

2007-08-24T09:31:00.000-05:00

WE HAVE AIR. I always thought that I could probably just deal with a distinct lack of air conditioning - you know, suck it up and sweat it out. But I was wrong. So very wrong. It hit me yesterday, when the reality of having cool air pumping through our vents was so close; the repairman informed me that he would have to go get another part from some other guy who had kept it in his truck...long story short, what should have taken about an hour took three. And as I sat there, nearly biting the head off of anyone who dared to call me (ok, I'll be honest - just my mom), legs not just sticky but dripping and a distinct scant about me (eau de deodorant-stopped-working) it hit me: I can't deal with this shit. Yes, yesterday was a bit extreme. The inside temperature of our house was a steamy 94, and the heat index (something that has always pissed me off - oh, it feels like 107 outdoors, but really, it's only 98. Who gives a shit what the actual temperature is? If it feels like 107, then that's the number with which I have to contend. Dammit.) was something like 107. So if you combine those two numbers, throw in some irritation and some prickly heat, then you understand why I was slightly irritable.

But now, the house is in the 70s. And nothing is sweeter than waking up dry, and not having to hose yourself down before going to work. I even needed a sheet last night, because I got a bit chilled. CHILLED!

Wednesday was Y's birthday and she is now among the ranks of those in their mid-twenties. Tonight the ladies are going out for dinner at a restaurant that always makes me feel much cooler and more hip than I really am - Asiatique. Just my luck, I'll probably slip and fall or stick a straw up my nose or something.

And even though I cannot afford to get her one of these, I will post below what I believe would be the perfect gift for Y. And while we're dreaming, I'll pick one up for myself, too, and possibly all my friends.
It's a hottub. And it's portable. (!) And on top of those coils there? That would be a wok.(!) It's entirely plausible that you could make an entire meal (a spiffy one, not pb&j) and stay in the tub the whole time. And it comes in 7 colors, I think. The price tag: $6000. But you could easily spend that on a tub that is nowhere NEAR as cool as this one. Check out all the places this dutchtub can go here.

Wretched day.

2007-08-21T09:38:00.000-05:00

So, our air conditioner went kaput. It froze up (literally - I had to knock ice from the pipes & vents) a few days ago and now just refuses to come on. So every morning, we wake up sweaty and cranky and all race to the showers at once in an effort to feel normal again. Today, I should not have bothered with the shower. It's raining like mad and in the process of getting the mail at the P.O. Box, making a quick stop for some caffeine and then walking into the office, I look like a drowned rat, or like I just stepped out of the shower.

My car is also making some noises. I hit one hell of a pothole yesterday and now when I drive there is a lovely little rhythmic purr to accompany me. I asked D to take it to Valvoline today (I needed an oil change) and sweet guy that he is, he called when I got to work and informed me that he would not be driving my car any longer and that he was going to come to my work and switch with me. Because something is wrong with it. So I get to take it to Goodyear tomorrow. I tell ya, how did I get so lucky to have such a swell guy? Always looking out for me, he is.

As far as the air conditioner goes, my stepfather tells me it's probably the compressor, and that to replace one of those costs around $1200 plus labor. And I have no clue what my car will cost.

I think I need to throw up.

2007-08-20T14:46:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure if anyone subscribes to the New York Times, but there is a column in the Sunday edition called Modern Love. It's basically a column dedicated to personal essays looking at the modern relationship - be in familial, romantic, or platonic. (Or any other kinds of relationships out there.) These essays are submitted by the hundreds, and then "rigorously edited." I'm not really sure what else to say about them, short of reproducing one in this blog. (Which I'm pretty sure would infringe on some sort of copyright.) But I advise everyone to read the column weekly, and you can get free access to the most recent one by using the link above. (you have to subscribe to the Times website for earlier columns. At $4.95 EACH! Damn.) So after you read the one from Sunday, you can check these out:

Now I need a place to hide away (warning: have kleenex handy and don't read it at work, like I did.)

What Shamu taught me about a happy marriage

Men don't care about weddings? Groomzilla is hurt.

Going to the state fair with my lady friends this evening. Must remember to ingest only ONE funnel cake/elephant ear.

Summer = suck

2007-08-17T21:28:00.001-05:00

Jesus christ, it's HOT. The temperature yesterday got up to 103, and it felt like 110. I don't know about you, but being in a sauna all day does nothing for my complexion (bright red just isn't in this season) nor for my...aroma, if you will. In short, I'm red, sweaty, and stinky. And that is just walking from my office to the car! I know I've mentioned my inherited trait that I absolutely despise during warmer months, and believe you me, it's in full swing right now. Oy. And I know you were just dying to know all that.

So in an effort to cool myself down through the power of positive thinking, I've been dreaming of Sweden. In Stockholm, the average temperature for this month is around 70. SEVENTY DEGREES. Have you any idea how amazingly good that would feel? I could probably wear a shirt that covered my arms in that weather. And maybe I could wear jeans without having them stick to my butt & thighs. Anyway, enough about temperatures. I found an online course that will teach you basic Swedish grammar and a very limited vocabulary for free! So I've been learning how to say things like

Det är ett äpple. - It is an apple.
Vem är pojken? - Who is the boy?
Bor du i Stockholm? - Do you live in Stockholm?

The only problem is pronunciation. My knowledge of how Swedish sounds extends just to the Swedish Chef of Muppets fame.
And what with all the "Fall Preview" catalogs coming in the mail, I'm really longing for sweater weather. (which makes all this hot-as-balls weather really obnoxious) At the Land's End website, you can make a virtual model of yourself and "try on" clothes. Here's my (very, very kind - I may have fibbed a bit on certain measurements) model, wearing something warm and toasty. (incidentally, you cannot try on shoes - so you'll have to fill in the slippers.) And yeah, if you want to get down to it, my hair isn't black, but the brown looked all wrong.
I will leave you with beautiful images of snow, cold-weather amusements, and bulky sweaters. May all your dreams be frozen.