29 August 2008

More on Daycare

On Monday, July 28th, I told Gabriel's daycare provider (verbally) that his last day was going to be Friday, August 29th, because he would be starting preschool. We had a conversation. It was normal and fine. On this Monday, August 25th, she mentioned something about next week and I was like, "Wait wait, this is his last week, remember?"
"No."
"I told you he would be going to preschool in September?"
"I don't remember that."
"Um. Okay?"
"I require four weeks written notice. I guess today would be one week?"
"Well I gave you notice." I need to walk out the door and go to work, so I say we'll discuss it later, but we really never do. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, pass by, and I never REALLY think about it. This afternoon, I realize that we never talked about it again, so I call her (my sister's picking up Gabey this afternoon, so I potentially won't see daycare provider again).
"Hi it's Jennifer. I just wanted to remind you that today's Gabriel's last day, and we never resolved that bit about the notice."
"Oh yeah, I'm kind of busy doing lunch for the kids right now, so could you give me a call when you get off work? We need to talk about you bringing that check by."
Um...what?
The thing is, I went back and read our contract, and it DOES say that she requires written notice. I didn't realize that, and I didn't give it to her. But I DID give her verbal notice, and at the time she said NOTHING about needing it in writing. She's not at capacity right now, so it's not as though she's been turning kids down on account of assuming Gabriel's presence. And she's just one person, so if she needed that in writing I feel like she SHOULD have said something. But I guess if she wants me to pay her, and theoretically this were going on Judge Judy or something, the law would be with her, because I signed my name on that contract. Nevermind not having $600 to spare, I don't think it's the morally correct thing for her to do to charge me because she's forgetful. But I know intellectually that she is in the right. And my stomach's in knots about this phone conversation I have to have today, and I don't know what to say, and I can't decide what's fair. And I really don't want to end things badly because I like her daycare, and it would be great if I had her as a backup for Gabey.
Thoughts?
Ideas?

Putting my ducks in a row

Y'all may remember that on Monday, my daycare provider said something along the lines of, "You never gave me notice! You're responsible for paying for the next four weeks of daycare even though Friday is Gabe's last day!" There were less exclamation points (which I always want to call explanation points) because she's not really an exclaimer (<- hello spellchecker that is a word), but that was the general gist and message. I told her we would talk about it Tuesday morning, and we didn't, and we didn't and we didn't and we didn't, and we didn't today, and my sister's picking up Gabey this afternoon, and I'm just taking him to preschool on Tuesday and hoping for the best, seeing as I'm all paid up, etc. I feel somewhat unreasonably guilty that today is Gabriel's last day in heaven, especially since Magic Lady's grandson is going to be in town next week, and every single night Gabriel has spent about five minutes telling me how Ethan's coming, and Ethan's going to be his friend, and Ethan's going to play with him, and how happy he is. There will be plenty more friends at preschool, but I always fill up and spill over with guilt whenever I change anything about Gabriel's life. Because I'm crazy and neurotic. And also Insane.

Despite this giving-notice issue, if you're looking for a daycare provider in the SC area, I highly recommend this one. Her rates are reasonable, she takes good care of your child, and she'll potty train him for you! Email me for her contact info.

Yesterday I finally firmly committed to going to Chico this weekend, made plans with Gabey's dad etc., and then I got home and Stella backed out on going out with me on Saturday. Sad. I don't want to drive all the way to the depths of hell and not see ALL of my friends who live there, it makes it feel like more of a wasted trip. I almost want to cancel, but I make such a big deal and fuss whenever K changes his plans on me that I have to be really consistent, or else I'll have get down off of my high horse. I like my high horse, and I intend to stay there. And it IS Darci's birthday this weekend, so I'll have fun all the same, but still. Plus we're in the middle of a major heatwave. Fortunately for me, in SC that means that it might top 85 today. Unfortunately for me, in Chico that number's more like 110.

I'm mailing out my mixed CD's on Tuesday, so if you still want to participate, you still have time. Details here. Oh and if you're a part of the actual legitimate CD Exchange that inspired this whole thing, Julia (aka in charge of the August mix) assures me that she's mailing her CDs out today. And that they're not boring to listen to. No offense but there were at least two boring months shuffled in there, just saying.

MY birthday's next Friday, which itself is reserved for hanging out with my family and taking bubble bath(s), but I'm going out (here, obvio) on Saturday, and if you're anywhere remotely in the area at all, you should come. Even if we hardly ever hang out, or haven't spoken for ages, or only know each other through the Internets, even THEN you should come.

I went to high school with Jenn, and I recently put two and two together and realized that Grace, whose blog I read, is Jenn's stepmom, because this is a crazy small world that we live in. I swear this is going somewhere, and while I still need to take her up on her offer for coffee and grownup time, that's not where I swear this is going. Grace sent me an Evite for the Sleep is for the Weak book signing in SF in October. I'm going. View the Evite here. I read all of the contributing bloggers, and I can tell you that, based on my highly sophisticated sense of internet reading, they are all totally awesome. Come. Forward the information to all of your friends. And make them come. Etc.

Oh and I think that The Bloggess might mail me one of her transvestite legos, which would fill my life with joy.

OH OH, and if you haven't been to my CafePress shop, you really ought to.

28 August 2008

Things that occupied my time today

The Bloggess got a bunch of transvestite legos in the mail. For serious. I keep coming back to this same post to read it again because it blows. my. mind.

John McCain's interview with Time Magazine. This is unbelievably entertaining.

Scramble. Just one of the many reasons that I stay on Facebook.

Overheard Everywhere.

That's about it really. Except that I desperately want to buy transgendered legos, and I can't figure out what combination of words to type into the lego website to make that happen for me. Sigh.

Still time for my CD Exchange! Let me know!

Scattered and lazy

I keep half-starting this post and then deleting it because it's stupid and then half-starting it again and then wandering off in my brain to pixie land and then Look! Shiny! And then writing two sentences and then maybe I have to work for half a second and....well it's not working out. As someone who reads FAR more blogs than she writes, I hate it when people write about how they don't have anything to write. Just....don't. So I'd like to clarify that I DO have things to write, I'm just a lazy bitch who can't be bothered to wash her hair, so how can I possibly construct coherent thought patterns? I cannot.

Those cigarettes that I got in the mail? I have to admit that's some effective marketing because I can't bring myself to throw them away cigarettes are expensive, so I'm hanging on to them for the next time I'm drunk and feel any kind of vague urge to smoke a cigarette. Probably this weekend, if I'm being really honest. I'm going up to Chico again this weekend. Debauchery is a definite maybe. My car? The master cylinder of the clutch was leaking, which is cheaper than replacing the clutch, but the fact that it was leaking sucked thousands of miles of life out of the clutch itself, which....will be a lot more expensive. So I've been using my clutch as sparingly as possible, which involves a lot of time spent in neutral. Here's a picture of Gabey at Dolores Park last weekend:

IMG_1381

And here's a picture of Visible Erection Dude forcefully rubbing himself on Visible Butt Crack Girl (that's my awesome silver shoe in the foreground):


Here he is mounting the fat girl. Looking at this picture you can't really tell how fat she is, so I just sound like a judgmental bitch, but she was. Plus, he's riding her. At the bar. And she's okay with that.


And just in case you're about to say that I corrupted your retinas, here's a picture of Gabriel coloring:

IMG_1361

Still time for my CD Exchange! Let me know!

26 August 2008

It FELT illegal....

Friday afternoon I had a package in my mailbox. It contained two unlabeled packs of cigarettes and a "smoking diary." It was from a research company. They will pay me $10 to smoke their cigarettes and tell them how I like them. As I am not a smoker, I don't know how I was picked as one of the test subjects. I live in California, where you can't smoke within a nautical mile of any living creatures potentially breathing air, and you have to sacrifice your first born in taxes for each pack you buy. We have some pretty strict anti-smoking stuff going on here. I'm pretty sure that smoking is considered a bigger deal than snorting coke. So, um....are you ALLOWED to just mail people cigarettes? Please advise.

Still time for my CD Exchange! Let me know!

25 August 2008

How to ruin a day in 15 easy steps

1. When you're dropping your son off at daycare, you notice that your clutch is acting a little wonky. You wonder if you willed this into being by your clutch paranoia, brought about by the time you were stranded in Salinas for 2 hours, and then had to ride from Salinas to Watsonville in the cab of a tow truck.
2. Work for 8 hours. There are typical work grievances, with none of the cheerful bits. Have one of your coworkers introduce you to the new girl (to whom your position is superior) as "the store secretary." Then have that same coworker drop her filing on your desk for "when you get a minute." Note that with the exception of seniority, you are at the same level as your coworker.
3. Drive to pick your son up at daycare. Decide that your clutch is definitely going out.
4. At daycare, your provider will casually mention something that's happening next week. You remind her that this week is Gabriel's last week, as he is starting preschool on the 2nd. Have her tell you that you never gave notice, EVEN THOUGH YOU DID. You don't have time to deal with it right now, so just leave with a heavy weight in your chest over the mechanics of proving that you gave her notice. Agonize over the fact that you cannot afford to double pay daycares for four weeks.
5. Knowing that your car is sucking your will to live, recognize the fact that you haven't been to the grocery store for 3-4 weeks, so stop at Trader Joe's on the way home.
6. The entire time you're at the store, wonder if you'll be able to drive home. It helps if at this point your cell phone mysteriously loses all reception, thus eliminating any and all backup plans. Don't buy a bunch of the stuff that you really need, because you're afraid you'll have to take the bus home and won't be able to carry it all.
7. Drive home with no clutch whatsoever. This is a really educational driving experience, particularly as you can't really stop the car. At all.
8. Get home and agonize for awhile. Call work and tell them you MIGHT be late to work tomorrow. Or not. Agonize some more.
9. Start a load of wash. Bang the back of your head on the dryer. Really hard.
10. Set your son up with a movie and a snack so you can take a bubble bath with a glass of wine. Bring the whole bottle.
11. Halfway through your wine botte bath, lift up your arm, and see two ants on it. You are taking a bath, naked and drunk, with ants.
12. Now's a good time to freak right the fuck out.
13. Turn your bath into a shower.
14. On account of the wine, mix up your facewash and your body wash.
15. When you're all done, it's nice if you can't find your hairbrush, and also if your son pulled all of his clothes out of his dresser looking for a shirt that he left at his dad's house last weekend.

Still time for my CD Exchange! Let me know!

I've gotta stop giving myself skin cancer

I was totally not going to synopsize (yes it's a word, shut the fuck up Blogger automatic spellchecker! Hey! Spellchecker is a word too! Fuck you) my weekend until I uploaded my pictures, because I'm always SUPER lame and writing, "Hey I did this and this and this, pictures to come!" and then either NEVER uploading the pictures, or else a week later adding pictures to some completely unrelated post like here's my kid at The Boardwalk, and now I'm going to tell you something about the BlogHer conference, and I just think that if I read this blog, that would really bug the shit out of me. But what the fuck ever, I'm at work and I'm bored, so I'm going to write this post anyways and hey! I'll upload the pictures later. If you don't like it you can suck it.
Friday night I did indeed go out with Megan and Mira, except that they wanted to go see the Gin Blossoms at the Boardwalk, and I don't like concerts (that is a WHOLE 'nother post that I simply do not have time for here and now), and also I don't really like The Boardwalk (unless I'm taking my child, or I'm in high school, and in this case, neither would be true, and seriously? I don't want to be sandy in the dark), so I called my sister and got her to come out too, so we could meet everyone else downtown, which is what we did. Laura and I decided to go to The Avenue on account of The Asti was playing its jukebox so loudly that we actually couldn't hear each other, and The Avenue is next door (don't you love it when I devote an entire long-winded sentence to vaguely exclusive references to local dive bars? You probably don't love it as much as my long parenthetical notations...). There was this guy with a visible erection mounting a 300lb girl on a bar stool, but I think you may need to wait for the pictures to fully comprehend that.
Saturday I did indeed go to San Francisco. We spent the day in Dolores Park, surrounded by naked gay men and a palsied pug dog. I was telling my mom about it and she asked something to the effect of, "Not literally naked, right?" and I clarified that I only saw one fully naked man, sunbathing....on his back. When he saw Gabriel he put his thong on, which was nice. Oh and I definitely met a man whose long dangly earring, was, no joke, a miniature iPhone charm. I don't have the words. Saturday was the hottest day I've ever experienced in San Francisco, and I got totally sunburned, which just seemed unfair. Oh and I was double-dared (who can resist a dare?) to look in the out of order stall in the park bathroom, which turned out to be filled with used hypodermic needles, shit, and a whole lot of pubic hair. Like a lot of pubic hair. By the time Gabe and I got back home on Saturday we were all sunned out and exhausted, so I think we fell asleep by maybe 9?
Sunday I went to my mom's house, and she made pizza for dinner, and my sister taught me how to play Canasta, and I taught James how to score a game of dominoes on a piece of paper.

Still time for my CD Exchange! Let me know!

22 August 2008

Sigg Water Bottles

I have a Sigg water bottle, I think it's like, night gardens or something as the pattern, but I LOVE it. It's a much better size than my Klean Kanteen. And also? SO pretty. Pretty counts for something. I couldn't find the one that I have, so here are some others that I like an awful lot:

Halter Sundress

I've never really considered Amazon as an apparel source, but they really DO have some cute stuff, and this dress is just $29.99.

It's only been 6 months since I moved here...

I moved here from Chico in March, which, as you may or may not be aware, went swimmingly. Since I've moved here, socializing and making friends and remaking old friends, etc., etc. has not been at the top of my list. I've been fairly happy with puttering around my house, hanging out with my family, and when I really feel like I need to get out, either going out of town or going out with my sister. I haven't made a single friend since I've moved here, and that's 100% for lack of trying. I've avoided all non-family social obligations, with the singular exception of Lisa's birthday party. I rock, obviously.

But. I woke up Monday morning feeling incredibly antsy and friend-deprived, I think because I spent the weekend in Chico, where it was all friends and no family, and I remembered, that hey! It sucked when I lived there and didn't have family, but it sucks being here with no friends! Why am I doing that to myself? That's right, absolutely NO FREAKING REASON, because I'm from this town, and I do in fact know people, I've just been a lazy stick-in-the-mud and I think they all finally got tired of calling me.

So I'm going out with Mira and Megan tonight. These girls were my very best friends in high school, which is one of things that makes me EXTRA lame for not ever making plans with them. It's not exactly like they were some casual acquaintances that fell by the wayside. No no, these are real, honest-to-goodness, genuine friends. And up until now, I have just sucked. A rather lot. Especially since I think Megan's moving to Dubai or something? I still have to get the details on that; I think maybe I'm spouting untruths, but I'm also pretty sure? Megan are you moving to Dubai? But ANYWAYS. We're going out. And don't worry, I have no intention of repeating last weekend, but I don't think that was my plan at the time either.

Saturday, i.e. tomorrow, I'm either going up to SF for the day, or....I'm not. I got an e-vite from my friend Cody that was all, "Hey come see me off before I LEAVE THE STATE FOREVER," and I was all, "Whoa, seriously? Where are you going? I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S HAPPENING IN YOUR LIFE!!!" And then I kept trying to call him and call him and call him and the stupid phone was like, "We're sorry, all circuits are busy" every single time and finally last night I texted every mutual friend we've ever had to ask, "What the fuck people! What is Cody's phone number??" And three different people responded with three different numbers. And then finally I got a hold of him because what I wanted to know was, "Can I bring Gabey? Because I can come up for the day with Gabe, but I don't have a sitter if this is some crazy adults-only thing." And he told me, "Bring him! Unless we're not going to the park, because in that case we're going to a bar. So call me tomorrow! And then MAYBE bring him!" So that's my plan.
And can I just tell you how much I love Cody? I took him as a date to my cousin's wedding in Genoa, Nevada once, and we spent like 12 hours drinking beer and watching Trading Spaces, and we went to the Mormon Pride Museum, and did you know that Genoa is home to Nevada's oldest bar? Oh yeah and our room key was actually like some kind of master key, and it opened every room in the hotel? Including, like, the maid quarters... Except the hotel was actually a time share? But who wants a time share in Genoa, NV? This other time, before he left for Japan and we were both living in Isla Vista, I was working at this restaurant, and I didn't get off until like 3am or something, and Paris bought a case of 40s, and Cody, Ben, Paris and I drank them all, starting at 330 maybe? At Cody's house. And I think we ended up having a headstand contest? I don't think I won. Anyways Cody's been living in San Francisco basically since he graduated from UCSB, and I have seen him MAYBE four times. Despite the fact that we live pretty damn close. Because I suck. And for that matter, maybe he sucks too? I dunno.
So Saturday: San Francisco or....Not.
Sunday: Sleeping, eating, cleaning, restoring order to my life, etc.

P.S. Do you want to participate in my CD Exchange? There's still time!

21 August 2008

YOU LOVE MUSIC!!

I mentioned this months ago: My brilliantly beautiful and amazingly talented love of my life Molly had the gumption and foresight to put together a CD exchange this year (side note: I type really fast so there are certain words that I start and my fingers automatically finish like if I'm typing 'an' my fingers will always type 'and' and I'll have to correct it. I just automatically typed 'foreskin' instead of 'foresight'). What is a CD exchange you ask? There are 12 of us. Each month, one person sends the other 11 a mixed CD, thus submitting their taste in music for judgment by the masses. I happen to love mixed CDs, so 2008 has sort of resembled Valhalla, in that particular respect. So. September is my month. Because I'm me, and also, because being me involves being somewhat obsessive-compulsive (can one be "somewhat" OCD?), I've been working on my mix pretty much since January. I currently have 3 options, each circling a different theme or general style. I have not yet decided what I'm going to be mailing out with the official Grace Stamp of Approval, but today! I had a thought! Thoughts around here are rare, I have to take what I can get. So here it is:

I love mixed CDs. They are my heroin. I can never get enough. I'm constantly chasing the dragon, begging people to expose me to their music. So. In addition to the September CDs I'm already making, I've decided, Hey! Do you want one of my mixes? Simply email me (grace (at) missdisgrace (dot) com) before September 1st with your mailing info, and I'll send you one! What do you have to do? Once you receive mine, please send me a mix of your own making. Do it! It'll be fun!

Branch Shop: One to Bookmark

I spent several years living a life of debauchery in Santa Barbara. One of my near, dear friends there was Alexis. This is her sister Ashley's Branch Shop. Ashley's one of those impossibly well-dressed people who's all style and flare and you just want to take her home and have her redesign your life. My favorites from the online store include
Christopher Deane Minnie Watercolor Print Dress Red (which for some reason that I'm sure the web design gods understand does not have a direct link):
Vintage Reproduction Fabric Pillow:
Porcelain Forest Vase:

Wow. Just. Wow.

"Is that your son? How old is he?"

"Yeah, he's 2 1/2."

"He's so tan! Is he out in the sun a lot?"

"Oh, well, not really. He's half black, so it's not so much a tan as he's just that color."

"Really! I would never have guessed with those blue eyes and that blonde hair!"

"Yeah, well, he obviously takes after me, coloring-wise."

"Were you surprised? When he ended up being that fair I mean?"

"Well, yeah I guess. He certainly wasn't the baby I pictured in my head when I was pregnant."

"And blonde! Where did the blonde come from?"

"Oh I dye my hair darker; I'm a natural blonde."

"Why? I mean, I can't imagine doing that."

"Uh....I dunno, something different I guess."

"Yeah, well you're son's really beautiful. You must be so happy that he turned out the way he did."

"Well yeah...wait. What do you mean?"

"It's just going to be so much easier for him looking the way that he does. And he won't have to associate himself with all of that cultural negativity. This way it will be easier for him to identify with you, and more positive future possibilities, y'know?"

"..."

So, um. Appropriate responses? By the way, we were cornered in the grocery store parking lot, so my response was just to leave. But this lady? Totally normal looking articulate lady.

20 August 2008

How I remember it in my brain (I say 'and' a lot)

Last Saturday, I don't think I ever ate breakfast. Or lunch. At around 4pm, I realized that I was starving, possibly to death, and that if I didn't eat soon, someone might be murdered. You know how when you haven't eaten for awhile the thought of food is actually really unappealing, so you need to sort of ease into it with something "light"? Yeah, so I picked up a salady thing to tide me through to dinner, which wasn't really going to be dinner, but appetizers and drinks to celebrate Stella's birthday, as well as revel in the fact that I was in Chico visiting. So in retrospect maybe I should have eaten more at lunch than just the salady thing. We each had a drink (possibly maybe a larger than average drink) at home so we wouldn't have to spend so much money when we were out. And then we went to where we were going (I want to say we went to Crush? But I could be lying), and we ordered our drinks and asked for an appetizer menu and then it was 30 minutes later and we flagged down our waitress to be like, "What the fuck?" and she was all, "Oh the kitchen just closed, sorry!" SO. Instead of appetizers we ordered another drink, because in such a scenario, a mojito for dinner is the best possible answer. Then we went to La Salles, where my very good friend's husband is a bartender, and it was Stella's birthday! So he made her a birthday shot! And before he made it he asked me, "Do you wanna get her fucked up?" And I said, "Yeah." Except that she told me that no way in hell was she drinking it cuz she couldn't mix her liquors, so then I drank it, and it did it's job in the getting-me-fucked-up department, except that I still had my drink to drink. And then we ran into all these people I know that I hadn't seen in months. I mean, not people that I know well, or even whose phone numbers I have, but people I know because Chico is a small-ass town and if you live there long enough you get to knowing everyone. But I was excited! And yay! I missed Chico! Sad I don't live there! Oh wait. No I'm not. I live near my family now, and I like my job, and I'm not stranded and struggling and alone. So no, no I don't. But I was feeling very nostalgic and chatty. Then it was 1:30 and last call and we gotta go and get the fuck out but I wasn't ready to go to bed yet, and neither was Stella, so we went over to the house of a couple friends we ran into while we were out. And then we got there, and I almost came to blows with some dude over a dominoes game, and their swimming pool was warm, and there was an incredibly sweet dog even though normally I don't really care for dogs. And then I spent oh I dunno 2-3 hours discussing the hazards of coparenting with the guy of the dominoes fight earlier, and I decided that actually, he was a pretty cool guy. And there was this girl there who had been there another time we had been there and I guess she's dating one of the guys who lives there (there, there, how many times can I type there?), only the last time I saw her she was a stripper and was stripping, and if they were dating then, what the fuck? Because even if your girlfriend was a stripper, why would you want her to strip naked (and I do mean stark naked) for your friends? I mean, do you really WANT your friends to actively want to fuck your girlfriend? Especially if it's your girlfriend and not some girl that you're fucking? Anyways she's never cared for me, and I've a couple of times heard her calling me a slut or a bitch or what-have-you, but I haven't gotten in a physical fight since I was about 10 years old, and I've only heard her say things about me and not TO me, so I take the road of being overly sweet to her and making sure that all of her friends are over the moon for me, which, thank you, they are. And then it was 5:30 am and I was lying on my friend's bed watching Olympic Table Tennis, Olympic Badminton, Olympic Women's Weight Lifting, Olympic Men's Field Hockey, The History of Beer, The History of the Sneaker, about 10 minutes of Ladder 49 (which is sort of amazing in how bad it is, considering that it has a decent cast), and a whole lot of snippets of other things. And once when I got up to pee I heard stripper girl in the living room calling me a slut and it was like, whoa. First of all, even if I was doing anything in there, we're both single adults, and that's okay. But second of all, THE DOOR IS OPEN, WE'RE BOTH FULLY CLOTHED AND OBVIOUSLY WATCHING TV. But then one of her friends was like, "Oh I like her" (remember that over the moon thing? Working.). And throughout the day I kept having thoughts like maybe I shouldn't spend most of Sunday lying in bed watching an unholy amount of television. In Chico. Where I had gone to visit my friends. Or maybe I should eat something. Or sleep. Or shower. Or attempt to make contact with the outside world. I was having fun though, and having a lot of interesting conversation, and have we met? I like to talk. But at about 4:30 on Sunday afternoon, I actualized that plan where I wasn't watching TV and talking anymore, and I got myself back to Stella's house, and my car, and I showered and ate an apple and threw all my shit in my car, and I left. About halfway to Sacramento (where I was picking up Gabe), I realized that I was unholy miserable, and I caffeinated. Then caffeinated again. I picked up Gabriel, drove home, got there at 10:58, and was sound asleep by 11:02.

Monday sucked.

18 August 2008

I hate driving

On the drive to Chico Friday night, Gabriel asked to stop and use the bathroom. We waited in line, and then it was our turn. Gabriel had to poop, and he's two, and we were at an ARCO station, so it was taking him a minute to cotton to the whole situation. Then a lady knocked on the door.
Me: Just a minute.
Then just as Gabriel's getting ready to do his thing, she knocks on the door.
Me: Just a minute.
Then just as Gabriel's ready to make magic, she knocks on the door.
Me: My son's trying to use the toilet, you're going to have to wait until he's done.
Then Gabriel's relaxing again, and there's a knock on the door.
Me: You need to wait.
Then, moments later, a knock on the door.
Me: Unless you want to come in and piss in the sink you'll have to wait your turn lady.
ARCO employee: Ma'am I'm going to need you to come out of the bathroom.
So I open the door wide to expose my poor child with his jammies around his ankles: "I'm sorry, but we waited our turn, and now my son needs to use the toilet. The more often she knocks on the door, the longer it takes. He is a child."
ARCO employee obviously was not told that a child was using the potty and was genuinely apologetic. She leaves. I look at Bitch Face Extraordinaire: I'm going to close the door now, and my son is going to use the toilet. You are NOT going to knock on the door again. We'll come out when he's done.

Whole fiasco ended up taking something like 45 minutes. End result? We didn't get to Chico until well past midnight.

15 August 2008

Hotter than Hell

Per usual, starting out my Friday post with haiku:

Preparing to drive
But it's so hot in Chico
I'm so glad I moved

I'm going to Chico this weekend. I haven't been up there since March, so this will cover some important visiting points. One such area of neglect is the fact that my hair is currently sort of an alarming shade of orange, and my bangs are shamingly uneven. Ma belle Stella has promised to fix me up and make me all pretty-like whilst I stay with her. It'll be nice not to look like SadClown anymore. Also, hey, remember my friends in Chico? Yeah. I like them and miss them, so I'm happy to see them. And I'm going to have Gabriel tomorrow morning before his dad comes to get him, so he'll get to see HIS friends too. The last time I was there, it was completely sans baby, but all of my Chico friends are mom friends, so I was all sad that Gabey didn't get to play with his buddies. Also, I'm hoping that I'll have time to rectify my current ghetto-bank situation. You see, I didn't have time to close my account before I moved, and there's money in there, so it's still my primary checking account, which means that as of right now I just mail checks to Stella and she deposits them for me, instead of something normal like, you know, having a local bank. Or a national bank. Or a bank that exists here.

I'm not excited about the fact that it's supposed to be 104 this weekend. Not at all. Fuck I hate that weather. I hate it like burning. Literally.

Complete Embellishing

Complete Embellishing: Techniques and Projects by Kayte Terry. I read a review of this book at Not Martha, and now I want it very, very badly.

14 August 2008

I had a chance to shine, and I didn't

My nephew Simon turned 5 on Tuesday, and we had a party at my parents' house, specifically in the Grape Arbor. This is the general location for birthday parties and bbq's, as it's shaded, poison oak-less, and has a picnic table. A select few My sister's 200 wedding guests may also remember it as the site where I tore all of the ligaments in both of my ankles....because I jumped off the 12' high roof. I was high in so many ways, if you know what I'm saying.
My family throws a good party, mainly because we've been brought up to believe that any party you have will be a success if you feed your guests good food and get them liquored up. This is true. Tipsy people with pleasantly full bellies don't give a shit about the decorations.
Because Simon is five, and because we only allow our 5-year-olds to drink on the weekends, this party was a little more kid-themed, and had a pinata (I cannot get a tilde over that n to save my life, I tried). Simon's wholesome and well-brought-up, so he got the cactus pinata instead of the Spongebob one. Simon's 5, and we're normal people, so we filled that cactus with no less than 5 lbs of candy. Laura thought of all of the food, but none of the things you need to eat food, like forks or plates or cups or napkins, so we were working with what we had. Which means that the kids gathered their candy in Budweiser cups that were so old the edges had started to yellow.
Since Tuesday, I've been systematically thinning Gabey's candy supply, but he's cleverish, so I couldn't just get rid of all of it and feign ignorance, I have to make him BELIEVE that none of his candy is missing. Yeah yeah, I could just deal with the tantrum, but I don't have that kind of sanity.
This morning I had to take Gabriel to the doctor. Even though he's had a hypothetical pediatrician since we moved here (in the sense that I called and made sure he was taking patients) Gabriel hasn't actually been to see him yet, so this was our first visit. My moment to shine. Gabe's new doctor was my pediatrician, and he currently sees my nephews, brothers and cousins, so he knows our family. The first part of the visit went great. Gabriel was in a super good, yet inquisitive mood, which is basically the cutest thing possible, because he asks all these questions and has seems all advanced-like. Plus our doctor told me he was a genius. And even though I disagree, that's nice to hear. I mean, he's smart, because his parents are reasonably smart, but I don't think he's a genius, and even if I did, I would never want him to think he was a genius, because that just sounds like a really good way to ruin a childhood. Anyway my child's obvious genius led the doctor to point out that I should be extra-vigilant, because his natural brilliance and curiosity can lead to a lot of accidents. Gabriel is actually a really cautious child, and he almost never gets banged up. It's Elliot who you might find poised to ride a trike off the roof. That hasn't happened yet, but if it does, I don't think any of us will be surprised.
So I'm telling the doctor that, while certainly Gabe IS two, and necessitates watching, he's not (w?)reckless, and then I was getting a nice little lecture about how you can never be too careful, adn I'm responding by pointing out that I pay very close attention to Gabriel, that's not the point, and then Gabriel sits straight up and says, "Mom, I want my candy."
Me: You don't have any candy.
Gabriel: Yes I do. It's in my pocket. *Pulls a whole handful of Simon's birthday-pinata candy out of his pocket.*
Me:.......
Doctor: I thought you said he didn't eat candy? And this laughy taffy is a choking hazard.

Well. Shit.

Gabriel Sings ABCs

Thursday Morning Early





13 August 2008

Robeez Tredz


Robeez Tredz Toddle Racer Slip-On On sale at Amazon and WAY too cute for words.

I talk to myself in the second person

5:47 AM: Open one eye, look at my clock. 3 minutes until my alarm clock causes me to die of a panic attack. Reach over, turn off alarm. Begin weighing the general merits vs. downsides of calling in sick today.
Every time I call in sick for no reason I ACTUALLY get sick no more than two days later. If I call in sick, it just means that I'm going to get sick on Friday. Do you think that it's a karmic response to my irresponsibility? Or do you think that I'm SO in touch with my body that my brain's all "Check it out dude, you're about to get sick, why don't you call in today?" Either way it's creepy.

6:05 AM: Roll over, Gabriel is in bed with me, all angelic and sweet looking, and
God it's warm in my bed. It's like a cloud, if clouds were warm. You know that part in
James and the Giant Peach where they fly their peach into the clouds and they're checking out the cloud people, and it's like, wow, that's great, cloud people! Except then the cloud people are all mean, and throwing shit at James and his posse of giant bugs? Well to be fair if I saw a mutant centipede my reaction might be similar, especially if I lived in the clouds and their weren't exactly a lot of ground-dwelling bugs, let alone giant ones. Anyways, that part always made me think how great fluffy clouds would be, except I live in Santa Cruz, where it's foggy almost every morning, and I know that the inside of a cloud would actually be a total Joy Suck, all dark and wet and cold. Plus, I would always have to worry about Gabriel running off the edge or whatever. Although on Earth I don't exactly worry about him running straight off a cliff or anything, so maybe I should give him more credit. Except maybe I only don't worry about that because we don't live near a cliff. When I was 7, we were at the Frantz' house, and they had a go-cart, and they were letting EVERYONE ride it but me, I mean, even Duncan, and he's 2 years younger than me, and that shit's not fair. So finally they let me ride it, and were like, "Check it out. Ride towards the hill when you get to the end of the drive." And they meant, the hill going up, so I would stop, but I thought, the edge of the cliff, where I would go careening into a ravine and land 75 feet below, broken and bloody. Well I didn't really think it through that far, but I understood them to mean the hill DOWN and not the hill UP, and then when I did stop half of the go-cart was teetering over the ledge and everyone was like "Holy Hell Jenny this is why we never let you touch our shit or do anything cool." So obviously if I lived on a cloud I WOULD have to worry about Gabe running off the edge, so on second thought, clouds totally suck, what the fuck was I thinking?

6:20 AM: Get up, go to the bathroom, wash my face, brush my teeth, start putting on my makeup.
You know what I always want to do? Just put makeup on half my face. Not like, Two Face style, obviously. But I really want to one day just put eyeliner and mascara on only one eye and not the other, just to freak people out. Plus I wonder who would notice. And of the people who would notice, who would tell me? Maybe that could be like, a test of friendship or something. Except I've been talking about doing that for I dunno 10 years or something and I never do it. God why am I such a pussy that I can't even fuck up my face for one day just to fuck with everyone?

6:30 AM: Finish putting on makeup, get dressed, start trying to wake up Gabey.
Jesus I hate waking this kid up. How am I going to deal with preschool when I have to get him up even earlier? That's gonna be a total suck. Plus I'm gonna have to feed him breakfast before we leave. Now he has breakfast at daycare. I'm gonna have to wake up at 5:30 just to get me ready to get him ready. That's gonna REALLY suck. Y'know, you wouldn't have to wake up so early if you didn't spend so much time dicking off in the morning. Whatever, it just takes me awhile to wake up is all. Jesus I can't wake up at 5:30. Do you know HOW DARK IT IS at 5:30? FUCK. Not possible. Maybe I should get married. That way my husband can drive Gabriel to school in the morning. Or at least make coffee and lunches. But what if he's a total deadbeat and I'm stuck trying to wake him up too, and taking care of EVERYONE? That would really suck. Maybe I should never get married and then I'll just be that crazy old lady alone with her cats. Except I don't have any cats. But I'm starting a succulent garden in my little strip of patio dirt. Maybe I can be a crazy plant lady. And I'll heal people with my wisdom and go on spiritual journey acid trips and shit. That would be seriously cool.

Fuck. I don't know why it's 7:15, but it is, and we gotta go.

12 August 2008

Would you like some Crazy with your pie?

If you follow my tweets, you may have noticed that yesterday I partook in an insane wind-up re: the state of lockedness of my my front door. And if you have ever had a fleeting memory of a thought of a chance to meet me, then you know that I am not one who obsessively locks her door.
It is because I do not necessarily care whether or not my door is locked that I was having such a particularly hard time noting the memory of the action. But I've recently discovered that in my new apartment, if my door is not locked via the deadbolt, it has a tendency to wander open. More importantly, if my door happens to open itself in my absence, I have a pair of neighborhood cats that are wont to sleep on my love seat.
Hence. The need to lock my doors. In case you missed out on yesterday's spiral of insanity, it unfolded thusly:
  • Having an obsessive thought-spiral as to whether or not I locked my door. Is it worth driving home on my lunch break for the peace of mind? 11:38 AM August 11, 2008
  • Thought-spiral re: potentially unlocked front door continues. Must forgo lunch to drive home and check. I'll have Crazy for lunch. 12:31 PM August 11, 2008
  • Door was locked. I'm fired, and now I'm eating CrazyShame for lunch. about 24 hours ago
  • Back at work after lunch: SHIT. Did I lock the door? Do not have clear memory of locking door. Double fuckus. about 23 hours ago

11 August 2008

Your Daily Dose of Adorable

The nice thing about motherhood is that when I'm lacking inspiration I can always pimp the uncommonly cute kiddo.



My Beauty Essentials

These are the girly-stupid things that I NEED TO LIVE!
Stila Eyeshadow Pan: I've amassed enough of a collection that these are the only eyeshadows I use, but if I was going to swear by one color that looks stunning on EVERYONE, it would be Kitten.
Maybelline Expert Wear Twin Brow & Eye Pencils: It used to be a well-known fact that I'm a natural blonde, but now that I've reinvented myself as a redheaded stepchild, people forget that I don't have eyebrows. If I don't color in my tiny invisible hairs every morning, it's a straight shot from my eyeballs up to my forehead.
Biosilk Silk Therapy: I have curly hair. This product saves my life daily.
Braun 5270 Silk-├ępil X'elle Body System Epilator: At some point I'll write a glorifying explanation of why I don't shave my legs, and why that's fabulous, but it involves this piece of equipment. Be aware that if you're not used to waxing (I was), this probably hurts. But it's worth it.
Philosophy The Supernatural: This stuff is magic. Put it on, and your skin just looks heavenly, and healthy, and glowing and perfect, and like it's NATURALLY SO. Cannot live without it.
Farouk 1" Ceramic Straightening Iron: I like my bangs, because I feel they distract from my fivehead. But that curly hair I mentioned? They must be tamed and straightened. I like the 1" size for versatility, and ceramic is a must for smoothness factors.
Clinique Almost Lipstick in Black Honey: This looks fabulous on everyone. It's sheer and perfect. Buy it, use it.

Perfumes that smell like heaven

Meh, nothin really

I had a blissfully uneventful weekend. My mom made pie, and my sister made a couple of crisps. My brothers got back from their insane coastal bike ride. My brother's girlfriend swam the Catalina Channel, which took her 14 hours and cost her about $3000, and I find it to be wholly insane. But then, I would never dream up swimming 20-odd miles as a goal, so I think we're fundamentally different people.
I took pictures of miscellaneous stuff that my mom wants me to sell online for my Grandpa. Like a BMW 750 motorcycle. And an unopened Wolf Salamander grill. And a 9'X12' neon bar sign. And 100 tabletops. And a condiment bar. And two brand new cash registers. I'm not really decided on the appropriate market for these wares just yet. Also? A WHOLE lot of creepy "bar art."
I killed my camera battery in the process of rummaging, so I can't do much about it until I get home from work today. Also I have to figure out how much to charge for all of this stuff. Anyone want it? Are you opening up a bar/restaurant/club/place of business? Let me know.
My nephew Simon's 5th birthday is tomorrow, and then he starts kindergarten in two weeks. I know it's said by thousands of people every day, but I CANNOT believe how old they get, and how fast.

08 August 2008

A Photo Essay of Gabriel's Babyhood

I think the most critical thing to notice in these photos is the evolution of Gabriel's hair.

Librarians are HAWT

1. I just registered for the Annual CLA Conference, via the cheapest "unemployed librarian" option, which is, technically speaking, true.  I'm looking at this as an opportunity to get back in the game, as it were.
2. I found this entry via Ju-Ju Coop! (the indecently adorable almost-librarian I met at the BlogHer conference) and it's so true, and so funny, and so funny cuz it's true.  The comments really make it for me.
3. The lovely piece of librarian hawtness at Librarian Avengers turned me onto Freebase, which is just, I dunno, like the wet dream of open, shared databases.  What's that you say?  Only the world's biggest geeks would have wet dreams about databases?  You are so immature.
4. Hip Librarians Book Blog< 5. Of course, the Hip Librarian, which is an excellent resource (cuz that's what we do, like, duh).
6. Um, so, um.  I'm sort of a member of the web ring for Librarians and Archivists Who Knit....
7. And here's a list of cool librarians, fictional and real.

Hippie? Maybe. Smelly? Never!

First, my Friday Haiku:

Lucky days slide by
Unlucky ones crawl forward
Don't linger today

This is something fun to do with your photos.

It helps that Gabriel is, by his very nature, so darned cute.

I've been spiraling into hippie craziness. After a few failed experiments and strangled attempts to simulate dairy in my coffee, I've finally arrived on Rice Dream as the piece of magic that can help get that vital caffeine into my veins. And you know what? I think I like it BETTER than milk in my coffee. There. I said it. Do you know what that means? With my coffee problem solved I think I could totally give up dairy. There's still the morning granola to consider though. Oh. Yeah.

So here are the foods that I don't buy:
  • Breakfast cereal: My mom makes granola, and it is delicious, plus full of nuts and whole grains and good-for-you things.
  • Eggs: Because we have chickens. And they're the best kind of chickens really, because they live at my mom's house and my sister takes care of them, so I just reap the benefits of free, organic, hormone free, free-range, perfectly lovely eggs.
  • Avocados: We always had a couple, but this year my dad went sorta crazy, and now I think my parents have something like 20 avocado trees.
  • Juice: My dad works for an apple juice company. Personally, I hate apple juice, but I like to have some on hand for smoothies and Gabriel. If I WAS buying juice it probably wouldn't be apple, but this is free.
  • Bread: My sister works at a grocery store and brings home enough bread from the daily culls to keep us all well-fed.
  • Plums/Apples/Apricots/Pears: Grown at my parents' house.
  • Jam: Made by my mom.
  • Blackberries: I pick them wild. They grow all over town, and seriously? Those fuckers are expensive.
  • Lemons: Lemons grow all over everywhere, I pick them when I find them. Also, my parents have a couple trees.
  • My parents also have summer vegetable garden from which I scavenge freely, a peach tree, a nectarine tree, and a sapote tree.
  • Coffee: My grandpa has his own proprietary coffee blend, which he buys in bulk.
So. Not only does all of that ease a considerable portion of the rising cost of food, it also eases my conscious re: harmful pesticides, etc., and berry picking is fun.

The food? That could be considered one notch in my hippie belt. Other things?
  • I don't buy garbage bags
  • Reusable grocery bags
  • Reusable non-plastic water bottles
  • Reusable cofffee/tea cups
  • I don't buy tupperware--instead I reuse yogurt containers, etc.
  • I ride the bus
  • I buy a lot of my clothes second-hand
  • I breastfed and cloth diapered Gabey when he was still breastfeeding and wearing diapers
Things that I still do, even though I'm pretty sure they're bad for me and/or the world?
  • I drink. Not excessively, but I do, and when I drink, I'll also drink soda, which I normally avoid
  • I clean with bleach and all sorts of chemicals. It's just more satisfying that way
  • I use crazy toxic ant killer
  • I use the "dry with heat" setting on my dishwasher instead of the "dry with air" option
  • I have a whole retinue of bad-for-you cosmetics and lotions and hair product and nail polish
  • I dye my hair. Well not since the end of March, but the intention is certainly there
  • I relish in air conditioning
And finally, perhaps (hopefully?) the point of this post, some pretty traditional things that I'm seriously planning on giving up:
  • Shampoo and conditioner. My friend Stella (my cut and color specialist) has advised me to do baking soda cleansing treatments (like once a month or so) to boost my hair health and cut down on grease, but I found this article, which was the push I needed to finally experiment with the baking soda/vinegar treatment as a full-time option. It also helped to hear such rave reviews from Angry Chicken and Evany.
  • Traditional, aluminum-based antiperspirant. My mom has super sensitive skin and is highly allergic to most deodorants, and I think my sister is too? But less so. I'm not, and I've always relished in my Secret-wearing ways. But in all reality I don't really sweat that much, and if I'm in a situation when I would (like at the gym or something) then I sweat ANYWAYS. And I've heard enough about all of the horrible horribleness of applying metals and chemicals to your tender porous skin, and so (deep breath), I'm thinking of buying this, from Lush. I promise if I start to stink I'll switch back, so long as you promise to tell me if I start to stink.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to organize a protest against GMOs and do some volunteer work for Green Peace.

07 August 2008

Rain Boots

I've been hunting for rain boots for awhile not actively hunting, but, y'know, keeping a general eye out. I've narrowed it down to the following:




So. What do you think?

Amazingly Worth It

So this is a video from way back when I went to Philadelphia (and that, apparently is the BEST I could do to summarize my trip, um....sorry?). My friend Kathy is the featured "performer," and after watching her do this? I was already in love with her red-headed hawtness, and the fact that she works for MySpace, and how amazingly sweet and artistic and talented and fun she is, but this? Just pushed me right over the edge. I heart you Kathy. And yes, that is my obnoxious man voice and guttural laugh.

My accidental diet

I have really bad ears. Not as in deaf bad ears, but as in I get ear infections EVERY SINGLE TIME I GET SICK bad, and I often can't submerge my head in water because it janks up my ears too badly. I had to get tubes in my ears twice as a child, and didn't talk until I was 2 1/2 and got the first operation, because up unto that point I was mostly deaf. There's this tape recording that I think my sister made on her Playskool microphone/tape player right before the first round of ear-tubes of my mom, grandma and uncle talking. You can here me in the background, and I sound like a severely retarded infant-child. Actually, I guess I just sound deaf. Because I was.
ANYWAYS.
On account of my suck-tastic ear situation, every so often I have to give up dairy for awhile, the trade-off being the ability to take a shower without shoving cotton into my ears. I most recently gave up dairy on Saturday. My ears will probably clear up in a month or so. Either that, or I won't be able to stay away for any longer than that.
Also, I drink my coffee with milk. And I don't like it otherwise. So when I give up dairy, by default I also give up coffee. And I drink coffee every morning, so that's been tough.
AND THEN, about a year ago, I decided to give up red meat, not for don't-kill-the-cows reasons, or for health-nut reasons, but for hippy-dippy reason that I can't really jive with the HUGE environmental impact livestock has on our planet. I just don't care for pork products, but I'm not enough of a saint to give up chicken. I do LIKE meat, after all. Anyways, that was about a year ago, but then when I moved back here I started being less strict about that, and now I just don't buy red meat. Except that a couple weeks ago I read some other article about it that filled me self-righteous self-disgust, and got back on the bandwagon.
As of today I'm off dairy (oh my delicious cheese!) by health necessity, coffee by association, and red meat by self righteous bru-ha-ha. I feel virtuous indeed.

06 August 2008

MOO Cards

If you don't have business cards yet PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE get these ultra-hip minis. I have and LOVE them. From MOO. Just sayin.

Friday Night Pictures-A Sampling

My official policy is only to befriend people who will look good nekkid:Kendall has EXTREME redhead envy:
On our third take the birthday girl and I got a photo we liked:

I uploaded the rest onto Flickr, they're tagged Lisa_Birthday.

The inner workings of my tiny mind

I guess not surprisingly, my emotional explosion via the blog was ill-received by the other side of my parenting conversation.  Except that I actually am surprised.  I laid out all of the thoughts that I wrote here during the course of the actual, real-time conversation, instead of doing what I normally do, which is say those things in my head, and say something pleasing and peaceful out loud.  
So I was surprised that he didn't know how I felt already.  Because if I hadn't felt like I had already had the conversation with him, I never would have written about my feelings here.  I did that only because I felt that it had already been said in person.  I was also surprised that he thinks I'm mad at him.  I'm not.  At no point have I been angry at him about this.  
It's just that our conversation got me thinking, and I realized that HOLY GOD I have some strong feelings on the subject of my perfectly joyful most beautiful part of my whole life, and I've learned through many years of self-suppression that when I have really strong feelings about something, the best thing for me personally to do is write about them (hence, my blog, ta dah!).  With most things/events/feelings/thoughts/etc., the simple act of writing down how I feel allows me to let it go and move on, and that's really important to me.  Because if I don't let it go and move on, I turn into a very scary obsessive person obsessively obsessing over my obsession.  
So.  Sorry!  But.  Not really I guess, because I wouldn't have done it differently if I had it to do over, and I guess apologizing has to do with regret.

I'm finished with being a joysucker, I think.

I THINK I've recovered from the Angry Defensive Mother feelings stirred up during my weekend. Well. Not recovered, per se, because that's how I feel and I refuse to apologize for it. But they've receded into the background and been taken off the boiler, and I can direct my attention elsewhere without just directing others to buy things on the internet. Now I shall do my best to put that behind me and bring y'all up to speed.

Last weekend was actually quite fun. Friday night I went to Lisa Leuschner's birthday party (visit that link, listen to her music, and then be grossed out when I start telling my "I knew her when...." stories). Because seriously, we went to JUNIOR HIGH together. I am the queen of latching onto friends like a barnacle and then keeping them for decades, just because they can't manage to scrape me off. Just ask Julia. Or Molly. Or Amber.

Because it was Lisa, and because she's awesome, and creative, and "talented" or whatever, it was a goldfish-themed karaoke party. Don't worry. I have pictures. My pictures are (gasp) at home because....well....I talk about it at the end of this post and trust me, 100% legitimate. Anyways, I'll post the pics separately: they're worth it.

Friday I also whoops-a-daisy made out with a girl, but only for a second, and, in my defense, I didn't know I was going to make out with a girl. We were posing all cute and smiley for a picture and then right as the countdown began Kendall hollered HOLD ON A SEC, grabbed my face and stuck her tongue in my mouth. I'm not saying I didn't like it maybe a little, I'm just saying it was totally unsolicited and not my idea. Unless touching her boob earlier counts as solicitation. Personally, I'd say no.

By the time I got home Friday night I knew I was getting sick. Not just drunk sick, or starting to sober up and wish I wasn't sick, or over-tired sick, but sick-sick. Some people chose to think I was whining, or faking it or something, and were the opposite of sensitive, which made me extra grumbly, and made everything we talked about the next day EXTRA OFFENSIVE. Because seriously? I do not fake being sick, and I'm genuinely not a wimp. Especially on the weekend when I just want to hang out and have fun. Duh.

Saturday I woke up achy and sick and sort of nonenthusiastic about the world in a nondescript sort of a way. I'm sure I was super pleasant to be around. But after an hours-long call back and forth veritable nightmare of meeting Gabe's dad so they could spend the day together, Gabriel spent the day with his dad, and I went and saw The Dark Knight, and while I'm the first to admit that I have a weakness for comic book movies and therefore might not be the most objective judge in the world, let me just say this: Damn. It was good.

I spent Sunday relaxing at my parents' house, playing Scrabble with my mom and sister, napping, drinking tea, berry picking; it was idyllic.

Monday...basically didn't happen. There's a huge lapse in consciousness there. I'm pretty sure I spent most of the day being sick and miserable. It was a non-event.

But Tuesday. Beloved yesterday. Do you know what I got in the mail? Yes. You know. I know you know. Because what was it? This. I've been trying to surreptitiously play with my new toys without alerting Gabriel to the fact that they are new, or exciting, or toys. But my newest new baby (as of yet unnamed; my last two Apple Notebooks were named Ambrose and Rufus, but methinks this one is a girl) picked up plenty of neighborly internet signals, and I am very VERY excited for this whole "blogging from home" phenomenon. And I surely did not realize how cool an iPod Touch ACTUALLY IS. It's really cool!

And my new monster has my pictures from Friday. And, alas, I'm at work. But I CAN BLOG FROM HOME NOW. So I'll upload them when I get home. Squee!

05 August 2008

Aerosoles Women's Amusement Park Wedge

I love it in blue, but it comes in other yummy colors too.  Plus Aerosoles?  Totally the most comfortable shoes ON THE PLANET.  $79.95 from Endless.

04 August 2008

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

So I totally meant to blog about this while it was still free, but, um, I'm lame? And I didn't. And now you have to buy it if you want to see it. But I still highly recommend. I mean, Neil Patrick Harris? You cannot go wrong with this.

UPDATE: LINK TO FREE VERSION APPEARS IN THE COMMENTS. You should still buy it though, because it rocks. Seriously. Rocks.

LUSH gift set

$65 at mariwibis.

amalfi Earrings

$19 from Salt & Paper.

Children are people

As part three of my apparently three-part series of things-you-say-to-me-if-you-want-me-to-dwell-on-them-for days, I was told by this same person that he "thinks of kids as a step above pets," and that, while little kids are people, "they're not fully formed yet."  No.  Little kids are people.  Fully formed, perfect little people.  Maybe they get mad about different things, and simpler things make them happy, or sad, or excited.  But those feelings are still there.  Yes, they will grow and change, but that doesn't make what's there now any less valid.  They are still authentic, and human, and legitimate, and worthy of cause.  When you tell me that your parents didn't enjoy you until you were an adult and a "real" person, I think that's literally the saddest thing I've ever heard in my life.

As a disclaimer for this three-part Monday morning rant, I'm not at all angry with this person.  I was verily shocked to find out that he felt that way, but I know he's never been around kids, and I think he's just genuinely ignorant, and you can't get mad at people for what they don't know or understand.

Edited for EVEN MORE CLARIFICATION:  This guy is not a baby-hater.  And he's a fairly decent human.

Your life can't take a back seat when that IS your life

Another conversation point that was brought up over the day:  Doesn't parenting make the rest of your life secondary, and doesn't that suck?

In a word, no.  I am a mom.  And I'm not a mom sometimes.  I'm always a mom.  I'm a mom when I'm at work, I'm a mom when I'm on a date, I'm a mom when out with my friends, and I'm a mom in my sleep.  Every experience I've had since the moment I saw those two pink lines has happened through the lens of parenthood.  
I would undoubtedly be living a different life if I didn't have Gabriel.  I would probably focus more on my career, and therefore have a better job, I would still be traveling, I'm sure I would be spending more time out and on the scene and what have you.  But my life didn't go in that direction, so that's just not my life.  And I'm okay with that.  That stuff hasn't taken a back seat; I'm not secretly yearning for a lifetime of missed opportunities.  The things that you want change.  The things that I still want may have to happen differently, or later, or around a different schedule, but, frankly, I don't give a fuck.  This is my life.  I would be lying if I told you I was unhappy.  
Actually, as a side point, I'm a happy person.  I am content.  I have always been this way.  Growing up, if I would complain that I was bored, my mom would tell me that if I was bored I must be stupid, because if I was smart at all I would find something to do, and I wouldn't be bored anymore.  That's how I live my life.  I'm never bored.  If a movie sucks, I'll leave the theater.  If I'm home alone, I read a book.  I knit.  I go for a walk.  I fold my laundry.  I have never had any trouble occupying my time.  And also?  I'm happy.  There is some SERIOUS room for improvement in many aspects of my life.  I'm not saying that I don't aspire to greater things.  But I don't want to look back on a particular day, or month, or year, and think, God.  That sucked.  Because whatever day or month or year that was?  I only get one of it.  Then it's on to the next thing.  Why would I want to waste my life hating my life?  
Sometimes I'm sad, and sometimes I'm angry, and sometimes I'm so frustrated I want to scream.  But I tend to very quickly come back to regular old me, who has just as much fun staying in and organizing my CDs as I do out on the town acting crazy.  

No, there is NOTHING better

This weekend I had a conversation with a friend that really irked me.  Actually, I had a couple of irksome, parenting related conversations, but for the sake of posting thematics, I'm starting with this one:
We were talking about how my friend Julia really wants to get married and have babies, and I could tell that my friend was a little bit critical of that particular life path, so I quickly clarified that I too would love to be settled and have more kids.  He asked me, "Don't you have anything better to do?"
Well if you put it that way, no I absolutely do not.  Yes, there are other things in my life that are important.  I have goals, dreams, ambitions, etc., all of them unrelated to being a mom.  But are they better?  No.  I can tell you with utmost certainty that there is no experience, in this world or otherwise, that compares to the joy and wonder and (I know this is cheesy but it's the truth) the magic of raising a child.  
Yes, there are times of incessant chatter, and there are naptime battles, and tantrums about what t-shirt to wear, and refusing to eat veggies, and fighting with your cousins over who gets to be in charge of the Legos, and whining for ice cream, and begging for just five more minutes at the park.  
But considering the flip side of that coin?  Blowing bubbles in the park, and baking cookies together, and reading your favorite story, and getting down on your knees to look at the ants crawling in the grass, and running through sprinklers, and falling asleep together on the couch, and the love that's so strong, so tangible, that it could be a palpable substance, a physical cord pulling the two of you together?  
Well then who the fuck cares about the other stuff?