Tonight I took the recycling out to the curb, and then I was walking through the back yard so I could dump today's compost goodies onto the heap. It's a fantastic night out there. Light jacket required, air is crisp and quiet, and the crescent moon is bright. There are also a lot of stars visible. The sky is that dark, almost pitchy midnight blue. Just beautiful. I love stepping on the ground on a night like this, because I can actually feel nature. Aaah. I had fun.
* Great Lake Swimmers, Your Rocky Spine.
I first heard this song on Weeds, one of my favorite shows. It reminds me of Frank. See it performed live here, and try to ignore the doofy host... although I like how he describes GLS's music as "ambient folk". Touché, marble mouth.
We've got womens aplenty going on this round of Challenge. Everyone's taking inspiration from their favorite songs, and this one is definitely on my top ten. Hey, I have an idea, let's count how many days it takes someone to whip out the Simon Le Bon. Keep tabs on all the lovelies... sisters, cousins, friends... Liz, Jennifer, Toni, Darcie, and Jen.
Wednesday, April 29
Tuesday, April 28
Self sufficience please! And get to work
Big news. Nico is now going pee pee in the potty. It's the moment I've been waiting for after two months of him standing in front of the kiddie potty, shrugging his shoulders and saying, "Mommy, it's a no come-a out..." Finally we have liftoff, and he's been fairly consistent the past two days. Once again, I am all swelled up with pride. I love seeing the kids taking charge of what needs to be done. Go, babies, go! Okay, now grow up smart and get to college!
One other big happening is my decision to return to work. Again. I kind of miss it. Like Toni, I've been wrestling with which next step to take. I know I want to return to school, but I would also enjoy a normal paycheck. Since one of my more immediate goals is to get us back into our own space, job wins out and school will get its chance once we decide where to live. Job hunting (uh, especially now) just takes time and effort, both of which I have plenty, so bring it! Exclamation point!
* Bjork, Army of Me
One other big happening is my decision to return to work. Again. I kind of miss it. Like Toni, I've been wrestling with which next step to take. I know I want to return to school, but I would also enjoy a normal paycheck. Since one of my more immediate goals is to get us back into our own space, job wins out and school will get its chance once we decide where to live. Job hunting (uh, especially now) just takes time and effort, both of which I have plenty, so bring it! Exclamation point!
* Bjork, Army of Me
Monday, April 27
Your scarf it was apricot
My cousin and sister have given props to my Twitter profile photo. This has made me happy, thank you, and I'm going to tell you the secret to that photo right here and now. While, much like yourselves, I am just naturally good-looking, I credit the high degree of goodness of that photo to fortunate wardrobe selection and interesting backdrop. Also, it was taken during lunch at a Steven Starr restaurant, so I was in a particularly good mood with the yummy food and cocktails and whatnot.
Completely unrelated, Frank found some scrapple in the freezer and he had no idea what it was. Seriously. His mom is a butcher, and he hadn't heard of it. I explained it's kind of breakfasty and mysterious.
Karen: It's meat... along with whatever other parts were around... picture that all ground up together and pressed into a loaf -- so it's meat only in the technical sense.
Frank: Is it good? Would you eat it?
Karen: Yes, actually, it does taste good. I have eaten it, but I don't anymore only because I know what's in it. I also stopped eating it because my brother calls it "scrape-ple" and that grosses me out.
Frank: Sounds good! I'm gonna fry some up.
* Carly Simon, You're So Vain.
** The frying wasn't properly done; I forgot to tell him to dredge it in flour first. He thought it was gross, but he said he'd try it again if I will cook it. **
Completely unrelated, Frank found some scrapple in the freezer and he had no idea what it was. Seriously. His mom is a butcher, and he hadn't heard of it. I explained it's kind of breakfasty and mysterious.
Karen: It's meat... along with whatever other parts were around... picture that all ground up together and pressed into a loaf -- so it's meat only in the technical sense.
Frank: Is it good? Would you eat it?
Karen: Yes, actually, it does taste good. I have eaten it, but I don't anymore only because I know what's in it. I also stopped eating it because my brother calls it "scrape-ple" and that grosses me out.
Frank: Sounds good! I'm gonna fry some up.
* Carly Simon, You're So Vain.
** The frying wasn't properly done; I forgot to tell him to dredge it in flour first. He thought it was gross, but he said he'd try it again if I will cook it. **
Friday, April 24
The night is dark but the sidewalks bright, and lined with the light of the living
I just have to say this so everyone knows. There is important news to be heard, and La Rivera is about to speak it!
1. Bangs are my thing. I think I may have bangs for the rest of my life. Short bangs, swoopy bangs, even sheepdog bangs for a minute. I'll try anything. And usually I'll try anything several times before I decide whether or not I can really groove with it. Have you all seen my cousin Jennifer's post from the other day with Joni Mitchell on the Johnny Cash Show? All I can say is, guess who is going blond on her next trip to Salon Rouge. Come on, guess!
2. This is the actual important thing I want you all to remember. When I die, I would like to be cremated. If, sometime in the future, you are attending my memorial service and you are seeing my actual dead body and admiring my still-fabulous hairstyle, then you know somehow, somewhere, someone has royally fucked it up. All you should be seeing is a 20x30" photograph of me in my late 20s or early 30s, preferably one of those chic silver gel prints. I'm not even sure I want the simple yet beautiful urn present at the party, because I ultimately want the ashes scattered over a yet-undecided location. My husband, children and any other family member who wishes may keep a small vial (preferably necklace pendant size) of me, which I will order to be buried along with them when they die, or cremated along with their own remains when the time comes.
I'm really glad we had this talk. Sleep well!
*Bruce Springsteen, Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out. Released August, 1975.
1. Bangs are my thing. I think I may have bangs for the rest of my life. Short bangs, swoopy bangs, even sheepdog bangs for a minute. I'll try anything. And usually I'll try anything several times before I decide whether or not I can really groove with it. Have you all seen my cousin Jennifer's post from the other day with Joni Mitchell on the Johnny Cash Show? All I can say is, guess who is going blond on her next trip to Salon Rouge. Come on, guess!
2. This is the actual important thing I want you all to remember. When I die, I would like to be cremated. If, sometime in the future, you are attending my memorial service and you are seeing my actual dead body and admiring my still-fabulous hairstyle, then you know somehow, somewhere, someone has royally fucked it up. All you should be seeing is a 20x30" photograph of me in my late 20s or early 30s, preferably one of those chic silver gel prints. I'm not even sure I want the simple yet beautiful urn present at the party, because I ultimately want the ashes scattered over a yet-undecided location. My husband, children and any other family member who wishes may keep a small vial (preferably necklace pendant size) of me, which I will order to be buried along with them when they die, or cremated along with their own remains when the time comes.
I'm really glad we had this talk. Sleep well!
*Bruce Springsteen, Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out. Released August, 1975.
Thursday, April 23
Can't say much of anything that's new
So I'll bore you with one more thing about one of the kids. At night I always put Liv to bed first, and then Nico goes to sleep about 20 or 30 minutes later. I pick him up and hug him, wrap him in his blanket, and lay him down in his bed. He gets himself all comfy and then I sit next to the bed for a few minutes and pat his back. Then I kiss him on the cheek and say, "Goodnight, Mommy's special boy." He then repeats, "Mommy's special boy." He turns his head the other way, snuggles his blanket, and closes his eyes. Done.
Tonight was a little different. I was patting his back, and before I could say my usual line, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Then he put his little hand on the side of my face and whispered, "Nico's special Mommy."
All the stress of two kids in diapers... all the frustration of the terrible twos... the gray hair, the imperfect body, the short term memory loss... all completely worth it. 100%.
One little side note. I love Carole King, and I will always remember one day at Mom-Mom's house when she and I both lived in that building in Collingswood. I must have been about 25 years old. Mom and Aunt Jean were at Mom-Mom's place, so I went over and Mom-Mom put on Tapestry. The three of them sang most of the words to the entire album. I'll always remember that day, and think of it whenever I hear Carole King.
* Carole King, So Far Away. Released March 1971.
Tonight was a little different. I was patting his back, and before I could say my usual line, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Then he put his little hand on the side of my face and whispered, "Nico's special Mommy."
All the stress of two kids in diapers... all the frustration of the terrible twos... the gray hair, the imperfect body, the short term memory loss... all completely worth it. 100%.
One little side note. I love Carole King, and I will always remember one day at Mom-Mom's house when she and I both lived in that building in Collingswood. I must have been about 25 years old. Mom and Aunt Jean were at Mom-Mom's place, so I went over and Mom-Mom put on Tapestry. The three of them sang most of the words to the entire album. I'll always remember that day, and think of it whenever I hear Carole King.
* Carole King, So Far Away. Released March 1971.
Wednesday, April 22
Love can mend your life but love can break your heart
It's true. Love can break your heart. In a good way. My kids do it to me almost every single day.
So in case you didn't guess, I'm super in love with my little family. So many surprises are happening with the kids. Nico says new things every day. Full sentences. Just... blam! sentences! And jokes. And observations.
Then tonight, lo, there was much cheering. Olivia and I were sitting on the floor, and she looked at the soccer ball, and then back at me. "Ball." I handed it to her. She stood up and walked with it, then put it down, and then... she kicked it. On and on she went for 10 minutes or so. "Ball." and then kick. As for Nico, he is the best game watching buddy now that he knows when to throw his hands up and shout "Gooool!" and when to look confused and say "Oh no, soccer ball." He came up with that line all by himself.
These things might not sound that earth shattering from the outside, but trust me when I tell you I feel my heart catch fire with every step those two creatures take. I look at them and I'm amazed. I love them so much, I could just crumble. They are monumental, and they are my world. I gave them life, and they returned the favor.
* Police, Message in a Bottle. Released 1979.
So in case you didn't guess, I'm super in love with my little family. So many surprises are happening with the kids. Nico says new things every day. Full sentences. Just... blam! sentences! And jokes. And observations.
Then tonight, lo, there was much cheering. Olivia and I were sitting on the floor, and she looked at the soccer ball, and then back at me. "Ball." I handed it to her. She stood up and walked with it, then put it down, and then... she kicked it. On and on she went for 10 minutes or so. "Ball." and then kick. As for Nico, he is the best game watching buddy now that he knows when to throw his hands up and shout "Gooool!" and when to look confused and say "Oh no, soccer ball." He came up with that line all by himself.
These things might not sound that earth shattering from the outside, but trust me when I tell you I feel my heart catch fire with every step those two creatures take. I look at them and I'm amazed. I love them so much, I could just crumble. They are monumental, and they are my world. I gave them life, and they returned the favor.
* Police, Message in a Bottle. Released 1979.
Non-challenge question, re: Jackman on Leno
Q: Could Hugh Jackman possibly be any tastier?
A: I do not know, but I fully intend to find out.
A: I do not know, but I fully intend to find out.
Tuesday, April 21
Who are you?
Frank was born and raised in 1970s Peru. To hear some of his childhood stories really drives home what a cream puff life we're handed here in the USA. He is tough as nails, which makes it all the more endearing when I see him turn to mush over the kids. He recently spoke the following words, and I just about fell over.
"I'm going to get Livi a little purse. I think she would love that."
Listen, stranger. I don't know who you are, or what you've done with Frank, but I am crazy about you.
* The Who, Who Are You. Released August, 1978.
Remember... read Liz, Jennifer, and Toni.
"I'm going to get Livi a little purse. I think she would love that."
Listen, stranger. I don't know who you are, or what you've done with Frank, but I am crazy about you.
* The Who, Who Are You. Released August, 1978.
Remember... read Liz, Jennifer, and Toni.
Monday, April 20
Well lay back and relax while I put away the dishes
Last night I endured the painful slicing open of my left index finger in the crease where the digit joins the palm. It healed up well overnight, but it's been re-opening all day long and is now a moist valley of open flesh. In reality it's only about 1/4 of an inch long, but still. Ouchies. How did this happen, you ask? I was trying to pry the cap off the cocktail shaker, and the edge of the lid turned out to be a lot sharper than I expected. One good twist and oops!
This morning I was washing the dishes and encountered my nemesis among the suds. I picked it up, scowled at it, and gave it a good once-over with the sponge. Then I rinsed it and placed it gently in the dish rack in such a way as not to anger it. I can only hope that in the future, the cocktail shaker lid recognizes me as friend-not-foe, and lets me escape unharmed. If this happens again, I'll either have to a) give up cocktails or b) stop washing dishes. I think we all know which is more likely to happen first.
*Anita Ward, Ring My Bell. Released 1979.
This morning I was washing the dishes and encountered my nemesis among the suds. I picked it up, scowled at it, and gave it a good once-over with the sponge. Then I rinsed it and placed it gently in the dish rack in such a way as not to anger it. I can only hope that in the future, the cocktail shaker lid recognizes me as friend-not-foe, and lets me escape unharmed. If this happens again, I'll either have to a) give up cocktails or b) stop washing dishes. I think we all know which is more likely to happen first.
*Anita Ward, Ring My Bell. Released 1979.
Sunday, April 19
To avoid complications, she never kept the same address
If you looked through the stack of unopened mail I keep in my top dresser drawer, you'd find me with two lasts names at two different addresses. The "mail that matters" has the correct information, and the rest of it can get lost for all I care. I don't command the mail to do as I wish. I kind of let it hang out there, and if it finds me then great. If not, it's probably something I pay online that simply doesn't come with a paperless option. As for whatever falls through the cracks, I'm oblivious.
The past few weeks have been coated with a very transitory feeling. I am thinking a lot about moving. Regardless of whatever the current buyer's market is doing, I have no interest in getting buried under another mortgage right now. The key words for this situation are as follows: new address, minimum stress.
* Queen, Killer Queen. Released November, 1974.
The past few weeks have been coated with a very transitory feeling. I am thinking a lot about moving. Regardless of whatever the current buyer's market is doing, I have no interest in getting buried under another mortgage right now. The key words for this situation are as follows: new address, minimum stress.
* Queen, Killer Queen. Released November, 1974.
Saturday, April 18
Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile
Welcome, dear readers, to the Quad installment of Blog Challenge between me, my sister (one of them, anyway) Liz, my cousin Jennifer, and our friend Toni. Read their entries for this, the 70s Lyrics edition of (echo voice) Blog Challenge.
Unless you've been living under a rock, sans internet, you know I am appreciative that my husband has returned from Peru in one piece. I'm also thankful for the return of my camera's rechargeable battery (thank you, Lauren) and have been snapping away. This morning after my knitters' meeting, Frank and I were goofing off on the patio. We were looking up at some clouds and chemtrails, and both said "you chemtrails, bastards motherf***ers" at the same time. Frank was serious, and I was seriously mocking him. Damn it, Franky, I missed you, and I'm glad you're home. Only you would sit through The Graduate with me, comment on how Dustin Hoffman looks like Alan Cumming in that one shot, and then Netflix me some Blade Runner.
*Paul Simon, The Only Living Boy in New York. Released January, 1970.
Unless you've been living under a rock, sans internet, you know I am appreciative that my husband has returned from Peru in one piece. I'm also thankful for the return of my camera's rechargeable battery (thank you, Lauren) and have been snapping away. This morning after my knitters' meeting, Frank and I were goofing off on the patio. We were looking up at some clouds and chemtrails, and both said "you chemtrails, bastards motherf***ers" at the same time. Frank was serious, and I was seriously mocking him. Damn it, Franky, I missed you, and I'm glad you're home. Only you would sit through The Graduate with me, comment on how Dustin Hoffman looks like Alan Cumming in that one shot, and then Netflix me some Blade Runner.
*Paul Simon, The Only Living Boy in New York. Released January, 1970.
Friday, April 17
Gifted
For her first birthday, we gave Livi an awesome Custom Amigurumi Barrette Doll from my friend's Etsy shop, HVM Designs (for the love of fiber, indeed!). It is the sweetest girly item, and I am a huge fan of handmade goods. HVM has lovely things aplenty, and you should see them and treat yourself or someone you love. Or both! Livi did most of the unwrapping on her own, which took me by surprise. She pulled the bow off the box, ripped the paper (we helped her open the box), and picked the doll up by the braids and carried it around the house. I do believe it was love at first sight. As for myself (and since I am a grown-up), I am eyeing up the Aurora Freeform Cuff. *drool and gurgle* Cuuuffffff...
Oddly enough, Olivia drooled and gurgled over her birthday gift. The gurgle was due to much excitement and lack of true vocabulary, and her drool was mostly from teething. But still.
Wednesday, April 15
Funny ha ha
A little Tuesday night humor...
Frank is playing with one of his favorite iPhone apps, composing a series of beeps and boops which he plans to bounce out into the solar system.
Frank: I'm about to send a message into space.
Roe: I hope they have AT&T.
Frank is playing with one of his favorite iPhone apps, composing a series of beeps and boops which he plans to bounce out into the solar system.
Frank: I'm about to send a message into space.
Roe: I hope they have AT&T.
Monday, April 13
Lucky 13
Today at 8:58am, Olivia Rose turned one year old. Happy First Birthday to the sweetheart who made my little family complete.
Livi was an early bird by almost two weeks. Eight pounds, three ounces of cuteness right down to those black cherry eyes she uses to look right into my soul. Livia Lou, you give the best hugs and your cry sounds like the voice of Billie Holiday. I've never met anybody like you, and that's only one of the million reasons I love you the most. I kiss a Chibby Lou! *mmmwah!*
Picstures
I'm having art troubles. I may have to beg science to take me back, unless I find something non-production related that I can live with. Art history, maybe? We might be pulling everything out of storage pretty soon, so once I can bury myself in Janson's History of Art again we'll see if I can live with that. I don't want to say this out loud, but, people, I've lost my design groove and I'm afraid I may never get it back. Directing the art was glorious, but making the art is painful. Anyway, here are some photos from this weekend. See? I can't even deal with color right now, that's how bad it is. And I know the cropping on the first photo is off, but the actual photo is weird since it's a self-shot portrait. Sorry if you're a photo-clicker-onner, but I'm too inartistic to re-size images tonight. Try to enjoy, regardless.
Me and Frank and a lot of diapers. That just about says it all.
If you ever want to see Frank in a good mood, put him in the same room with Olivia.
I never thought having a little boy would be so wonderful.
My kids refuse to sit still and purposely smile for the camera, but I love this photo.
Me and Frank and a lot of diapers. That just about says it all.
If you ever want to see Frank in a good mood, put him in the same room with Olivia.
I never thought having a little boy would be so wonderful.
My kids refuse to sit still and purposely smile for the camera, but I love this photo.
Sunday, April 12
Holiday. Celebrate.
I came into the bedroom to be alone (foiled!), watch part of the Barcelona game, eat my noodle soup, and write about how my kids have next to no idea who the Easter Bunny is. This is a triple egg hunt weekend. One at Nico's school (La Petite throws a mean Spring Fling), one at Herb's son and daughter-in-law's, and one here later today. I will never argue with the kids going on a little discovery mission, but I have no intention of ever telling them a giant rabbit in a bow tie is the one responsible for the fun. Nor will I ever have my children tugging at my hand begging to know if Santa Claus really exists. And the Tooth Fairy? She's a waste of my time.
I don't feel that great about faking out my kids around the holidays. It's just not that much fun for me. At the same time, I don't plan on raising them to spoil the illusion for other kids. They'll just learn that some people believe in certain things, and that they aren't expected to automatically follow along with the crowd. Husband dons a black "Fuck Columbus Day" t-shirt in mid-October, and that's fine. He agrees with me on the pointlessness of a lot of the exhaustive commercial hype surrounding what really should be a simple celebration of the Earth at certain times of the year (or every day, for that matter). If religion happens to come into play for some people, then that's great. That's just not where we tend to put most of our emphasis, which I think is also fine.
On holidays, while we enjoy festive decorations and a nice meal with our family, our private ritual is more of an explanation to the babes about what's happening in the natural world. Later at night, after the kids are asleep, hubby and I crack some beers and chat about which trees and flowers are blooming, or admire the loveliness of the harvest moon. It's sweet, it's simple, and to us, it matters. I think that's really where the joy is found. It's in creating the kind of relationship you want your kids to have with what's going on in their community and the world around them, and then savoring your own appreciation in your own way, together.
Among my circle of friends, there are many who feel the same way. The importance of showing our kids what is real and what is fake, sparking a year-round interest in nature, and guiding them in the direction of a more universal truth... those are the things that matter the most. ** Late note... when I say this, I mean letting kids know there's more to holidays than gifts, that it's more about people and what matters to you and your own family ** As for the candy-filled eggs hidden out back and the two buckets of goodies out on the living room table... the kids know that is the work of the master spoiler, Grandmom. I don't mind. I will never, ever argue with jelly beans and Snickers. Oh, and fuzzy bunny ears? Acceptable and adorable year 'round.
I don't feel that great about faking out my kids around the holidays. It's just not that much fun for me. At the same time, I don't plan on raising them to spoil the illusion for other kids. They'll just learn that some people believe in certain things, and that they aren't expected to automatically follow along with the crowd. Husband dons a black "Fuck Columbus Day" t-shirt in mid-October, and that's fine. He agrees with me on the pointlessness of a lot of the exhaustive commercial hype surrounding what really should be a simple celebration of the Earth at certain times of the year (or every day, for that matter). If religion happens to come into play for some people, then that's great. That's just not where we tend to put most of our emphasis, which I think is also fine.
On holidays, while we enjoy festive decorations and a nice meal with our family, our private ritual is more of an explanation to the babes about what's happening in the natural world. Later at night, after the kids are asleep, hubby and I crack some beers and chat about which trees and flowers are blooming, or admire the loveliness of the harvest moon. It's sweet, it's simple, and to us, it matters. I think that's really where the joy is found. It's in creating the kind of relationship you want your kids to have with what's going on in their community and the world around them, and then savoring your own appreciation in your own way, together.
Among my circle of friends, there are many who feel the same way. The importance of showing our kids what is real and what is fake, sparking a year-round interest in nature, and guiding them in the direction of a more universal truth... those are the things that matter the most. ** Late note... when I say this, I mean letting kids know there's more to holidays than gifts, that it's more about people and what matters to you and your own family ** As for the candy-filled eggs hidden out back and the two buckets of goodies out on the living room table... the kids know that is the work of the master spoiler, Grandmom. I don't mind. I will never, ever argue with jelly beans and Snickers. Oh, and fuzzy bunny ears? Acceptable and adorable year 'round.
Tuesday, April 7
Closest I will ever get to moving to the west coast
Due to a swift (but kind) double-pouncing regarding my recent blog deletions, here's one more tonight for ma' ladies. I feel guilty for messing with your reading. I'm sorry. And you know I don't apologize for much. I write this with extra lovin'.
What makes a good night even more gooder? Cocktails. I know you feel me.
At the end of last year, we had a 40th birthday party for my sister. Please note, I have three older sisters and only one of them got a party because I totally play favorites. (I also have two younger sisters from another mother -- my poor brother, he has six sisters! -- and I'd also throw them parties in a heartbeat.) At said party, my sister made me one of her favorite drinks, a Washington apple martini. Now I'm not big on martinis in general, but I have made an exception in this case. Me likey. Tonight I decided to make myself one, and looked up the recipe. The page to which I was led had a special little note to rim the glass with cinnamon sugar. Ohhh yes.
So there I stood in the kitchen, neatly rimming my glass, my family busting on my skills the entire time. Ouch, being teased for rimming a glass too well? I've heard worse. I made my drink and sat down at the dinner table, only to have Godzilla knock over my martini with the salt shaker. Grr. Wait, correction, he put the salt shaker into my glass, realized the mistake, and continued to insult me by just saying fuck it and pulled the whole thing over sideways. Grr, grr! Needless to say my dinner was cut short by pajama time, and when I was done with that I made a fresh round of drinks. Please see below. Candle in the background was just mood luck.
Due to the fact that the apples are from Wegman's, the garnish is Gala from upstate NY. Trust me, though, if you're here to taste one on Saturday, you'll forgive me.
What makes a good night even more gooder? Cocktails. I know you feel me.
At the end of last year, we had a 40th birthday party for my sister. Please note, I have three older sisters and only one of them got a party because I totally play favorites. (I also have two younger sisters from another mother -- my poor brother, he has six sisters! -- and I'd also throw them parties in a heartbeat.) At said party, my sister made me one of her favorite drinks, a Washington apple martini. Now I'm not big on martinis in general, but I have made an exception in this case. Me likey. Tonight I decided to make myself one, and looked up the recipe. The page to which I was led had a special little note to rim the glass with cinnamon sugar. Ohhh yes.
So there I stood in the kitchen, neatly rimming my glass, my family busting on my skills the entire time. Ouch, being teased for rimming a glass too well? I've heard worse. I made my drink and sat down at the dinner table, only to have Godzilla knock over my martini with the salt shaker. Grr. Wait, correction, he put the salt shaker into my glass, realized the mistake, and continued to insult me by just saying fuck it and pulled the whole thing over sideways. Grr, grr! Needless to say my dinner was cut short by pajama time, and when I was done with that I made a fresh round of drinks. Please see below. Candle in the background was just mood luck.
Due to the fact that the apples are from Wegman's, the garnish is Gala from upstate NY. Trust me, though, if you're here to taste one on Saturday, you'll forgive me.
Back
I've been... not quite myself for a few days. Been feeling overwhelmed (like, heavy, heavy overwhelmed) by just about everything under the sun, but this morning I cried on the shoulders of my BFFs, and now I feel new again. Oh, the healing power of salt! Making me feel even better is the fact that both Jen and Liz called me out on deleting recent posts. Big sister is watching. I deleted two posts, and I had two that I never put up at all. Listen, I'm not perfect. I act on raw emotion from time to time, and I say and do plenty of ridiculous things. But I cannot recall another time when I just plain felt like I wasn't saying anything good, and I hated that. It has to feel like me when I am letting other people read, and it just didn't.
Business:
1. Olivia turns one year old on Monday. I will officially be the mom of two toddlers. What?!
2. It would seem I have lost (perhaps temporarily?) my passion for design production. It's so forced right now that I can't do the smallest job without hating every last bit of it. A fellow designer once had an Art Directors Club flyer on his cubby wall, and it had an amusing photo with this caption: Creating is easy. Just stare at a blank piece of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead. That is exactly how I feel right now.
3. I'd love to once again have a regular job. See above to explain why this causes so much conflict.
Business:
1. Olivia turns one year old on Monday. I will officially be the mom of two toddlers. What?!
2. It would seem I have lost (perhaps temporarily?) my passion for design production. It's so forced right now that I can't do the smallest job without hating every last bit of it. A fellow designer once had an Art Directors Club flyer on his cubby wall, and it had an amusing photo with this caption: Creating is easy. Just stare at a blank piece of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead. That is exactly how I feel right now.
3. I'd love to once again have a regular job. See above to explain why this causes so much conflict.
Friday, April 3
Holy shirt
Please see below, the gift my mother-in-law sent me from Peru. I worship it.
Caption is "Peru Fashion". It's a bald alpaca scowling at an Inca (who's wearing a chullo, no less) who has seemingly made a sweater from his rich, luxe alpaca fur. This shirt is hilarious to Peruvians, to those who love them, and to people who knit and/or love alpaca sweaters. Oh, and those who love it as much as I do when a cartoon animal makes an angry face.
This little number had me cracking up on and off for at least 20 minutes. Don't get me started about the bird (cockatoo, parrot maybe?), or about what is up with my pose. I'd like to think we are both just mixing it up a little.
Caption is "Peru Fashion". It's a bald alpaca scowling at an Inca (who's wearing a chullo, no less) who has seemingly made a sweater from his rich, luxe alpaca fur. This shirt is hilarious to Peruvians, to those who love them, and to people who knit and/or love alpaca sweaters. Oh, and those who love it as much as I do when a cartoon animal makes an angry face.
This little number had me cracking up on and off for at least 20 minutes. Don't get me started about the bird (cockatoo, parrot maybe?), or about what is up with my pose. I'd like to think we are both just mixing it up a little.
Thursday, April 2
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