Miss Grace's Disgrace

09 March 2010

Celebrity Identification

Last weekend my mom and my sister were trying to talk me into coming up to my parents' house and my sister was like, "Jenny I have a really good fluffy young adult fantasy book*. And the latest People Magazine with that ugly woman on the cover."
Me: Kate Gosselin?
My mom: That horrid woman with 42 babies?
My sister: No, no, the whole reason she's famous is that she's ugly.
Me: Tori Spelling?
My mom: Sarah Jessica Parker?
My sister: No, the singer
Me: Celine Dion?
My mom: Kelly Osbourne?
My sister: No the horse-faced one.
Me: Mariah Carey?
My mom: Amy Winehouse?
My sister: NO. She's old. And crazy.
My mom: Barbara Streisand?
Me: Courtney Love?
My sister: NO. Reality TV.
Me and my mom, simultaneously: Susan Boyle??
My sister: YES.
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*Fluffy young adult fantasy book IS good, in a fluffy young adult way. I read it in a day. Graceling (<--affiliate link).

BlogHer 2010 WHUTWHUT

I got a BlogHership (mic wrangling).
I have some very pretty roommates.
And a room at the hotel.
I have an airplane ticket.
I'm going.
Are you?
Let's hug.

08 March 2010

Red Love Seat

I graduated from college, my mom asked me what I wanted. I didn't even pause when I asked her for my her necklace. My grandfather had given it to her, but I've been wearing it whenever I got the chance since I was about three years old. If you've met me, you've seen me wearing it.
My sister got a car when she graduated, so I figured my chances were pretty good.
She gave me her necklace.
She also helped me pay for my trip to South Africa that summer.
She also bought me a couch for my new house.
My mom is very, very good to me.

A red love seat from the Opportunity Shop in Santa Barbara, second hand. It went into our house downtown. Living like grown ups and acting like children, drinking too much, staying up too late, still getting used to the idea of paying our own bills.

Later, it moved into my apartment, the first place I ever lived without roommates.
My glorious, legendary apartment. Two-bedrooms, nice neighborhood, downtown Santa Barbara, off-street parking, ocean views, $500/month. I know. I KNOW. I don't know why I moved either. I KNOW.

When I started grad school and left Santa Barbara, it went into my old bedroom at my parents' house. It was a big fight to get it in there; the upstairs bedrooms have narrow, non-standard doorways.
It didn't go to Chico with me. I moved to Chico alluva sudden, in the midst of a hormonal pregnant temper fit. And the couch was too hard to move. And I was too mad. And insane.
It stayed in my room when my room became Duncan's room, James' room.
Still my love seat though.
Still mine!

When I moved back to Santa Cruz, when I moved out of my parents' house, then it came with me. Perfect for my little one bedroom apartment with my baby in the living room.
Small and perfect.

It's mine again.
It's little, but boys still manage to sleep on it.

It's little, but there's still room enough for friends.

It's a good little couch.
--
This post was inspired by this exercise, though I didn't follow the directions exactly.

Today is the first day of the rest of my week!

Hey!
Oh Em Gee!
I'm not sick! No more runny nose! No more chapped, cracked skin! Hello world! I woke up on time this morning without muttering 'fuck you' under my breath!
Gabriel's not sick! Slept in his own bed! Didn't pee in his pull-up! Ate breakfast! Got dressed! All with minimal whining!
The skies are blue, the sun is shining!
I got to work on time!
I'm wearing green tights which exactly match the green in the print of my dress, and that makes me happy!
Hey! I've lost 10lbs since I started trying to lose weight! (It's been 4 months! But I'm still happy about it!)
Today!
Good!
Fuck it up and I will kill you! With knives! You could not begin to imagine the power of my vengeance!
Today!
Good!
Whee!
--
I wrote about some jewelry! Here! It's pretty!

04 March 2010

me plus sick plus sick kid minus sleep plus noise equals me on video

There are some protests happening very near my front door.
Well.
Here's what I have to say about that.

Class Pictures!

Check it! Class photo time! Some of these I've posted here before (probably), but I was flipping through my flickr stream the other day and MAH GAWD, I didn't realize I had such quantity all up and available on the interwebs.
So! Class pictures (not comprehensive but in chronological order)

Kindergarten! My dad works the swing shift, so he used to get me ready and take me to school every day in kindergarten. Which involved brushing my hair and asking if I was wearing underwear. I was always pissed that he would ask because OBVIO I was wearing underwear, but in retrospect I'm thinkin' maybe there was one day that he didn't ask and I wasn't, which would explain the vigilance.

Second Grade! The year of my infatuation with NKOTB. Check out my hair! Ill-advised bangs were a result of my best friend having bangs. They didn't work out. I also dig the lace get-up I've got goin' on.

Fifth grade! (Also Superjules). Man oh man. Check out my HAIR.

Now let's move on to high school shall we?

I think my hair is like, shellacked with gel? It's an awesome look, to be sure. God don't you remember being 14 and thinking you were SO grown up? Look at me I was just a little girl!

Tenth Grade! God that's so Bershon. I'm pouty cuz I got carted off to crazy hippie private school but ALSO, I'm not smiling cuz I broke my front tooth on a rafting trip days before and it was filled but all wonky and I hated it and I hate my life and OH THE PAIN THE CRUEL CRUEL PAIN.

Eleventh Grade! I decided to smile again, even at the hippie school with the broken tooth (which you can see, but I shall live). My great-grandpa made those bracelets, the bigger one was engraved from him to his wife nineteen thirty something with love (he was a jeweler). I don't know where they are. I mean, I'm sure they're SOMEWHERE. Don't tell my dad.

03 March 2010

We can't all be winners, or CAN we?

And let us never forget:

(Awards compliments of Jenny, who makes my life worth living)

Diptych - Rough

I do my diptychs in collaboration with Kellee.

Explanation here.
That's the top Gabriel's play kitchen in my shot, which has been absolutely ravaged by being out on our patio. If anyone wants to help me lug it to the dumpster, I'd appreciate it. For reals.
If you are working on your own, feel free to add to the Mr. Linky.
Next week Kellee and I are working with 'shine' as our theme, or you can choose your own.

01 March 2010

Ugh I already regret writing that. Let's push that post down a bit. Here's a picture of me hiding in my living room. Did you know that I found this chair on the side of the road? In Chico? Four years ago? It has MORE than paid for itself. Especially since it was free.

Stress Stress

Money, sick family, the usual.
--
Gabriel has Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. Which is blisters on his hands, feet, and on the roof of his mouth, plus extra bonus of contagiousness! He's been out of school since Tuesday, which is starting to wear on us both. My mom is helping me out with childcare this week, but I've still missed more work than I can really afford to miss, and I'm a stressball.

Which of course stresses me out about money, or what if I get sick? I don't have enough sick hours right not to cover me getting sick with all the time I've spent off already, nor can I afford to not get paid for the time I'm out. I recognize that I'm lucky to get paid time off, but the benefits are one of the reasons I take the lower wages.

Speaking of money, I've known since I moved in that my time will run out on this space in May of 2011, but somehow it only just occurred to me last night that I don't have any dollars set aside for a security deposit in a new place. And in a town were you're often asked to fork over first, last, AND the deposit on move in? I don't think I can scrape together what could very easily turn into $4K in a year's time. So that sucks.

I HAVE been doing a very good job of leashing my consumer whore. Instead of buying things from Anthropologie, I've stuck with meticulously updating my wishlist and pretending very hard. It's surprisingly satisfying. I've become a big fan of carefully building online shopping carts and then closing them out instead of entering my info.

And I got a BlogHership for Blogher10! Which is handy cuz otherwise I DEFINITELY couldn't afford to go. Say hello to your new mic wrangler! But. Ugh. There's still all this "lodging" and "airfare" to fuss over. I know in my brain that lots and lots of bloggers somehow get companies to sponsor them for stuff like this, but my marketing know-how is less than zero, and selling mahSELF as product? I wouldn't even know where to BEGIN. Oof.
I'm totally going tacky as all get out, and I added a paypal button under my face over there on the right. Its existence doesn't mean that I expect you to give me money, obviously. But, what can I say? I'm not rejecting anything either.

My throat is sore. So of course I'm paranoid that it's about to be covered in blisters. And I'm pretty sure that if I worry about it enough? It'll happen. So I know I should stop, but I can't.

In sum? I need a nap, probably. A nap would likely make me feel much, much better.