HEELS

Hmmm... what's this?

Oooh... Twisty! Bendy!

What is it attached to?

I know! I'll follow it!

Oooooo... Glowing... Noisy... AWESOME!

Love the Vaccum. Stroke the Vacuum.

(Hello! Cameo of crazy dog.)

Vacuum? You are beautiful. Yes, you! I love the way your attachments snap so nicely to your body.


Vacuum! Where are you going? Come back Vacuum! COME BACK!

Yes, Cole is obsessed with the vacuum. I must admit, it is a rather nice one, but, in my opinion, not worthy of the sort of fascination he has for it. He follows us around the house trying to lick it or stick his fingers in it, which...Ew. To each his own...

Also, check out the mad real crawling skillz.

(Also note: LAST DAY BEFORE VACATION! I'm OUT, peeps... or something like that. Never been so good with the slang. Foul words, yes. Slang, no.)

Regarding the question about whether someone actually peed on my couch, I wrote about it back on August 8, 2003:

**************

On Friday I helped a customer with a pair of Chacos. As she was trying
on the sandals she started wiggling and asked if she could use the
bathroom. Because of previous problems, we no longer allow our
customers to use the bathroom. I told her, as usual, that the bathroom
was out of order. She said no problem, I'll just run over to the
restaurant next door when we're finished here. She paid for her shoes
and left. A few minutes later I went over to the couch where she had
been sitting. This particular couch is actually a rustic wooden bench
with dark blue silk throw pillows to cushion the seat and two big
leopard print pillows- one for each corner. I noticed that one of the
leopard print pillows was misplaced and picked it up to put it back.
But, when I looked underneath, I froze. There was a huge, dark, WET
spot where this woman had been sitting. She had PISSED on my mother-
fucking couch and left it for me to clean up! SHe wasn't old- she
couldn't have been more than 60 (probably in her late fifties). She
wasn't wierd- she was dressed nicely and (mostly)behaved properly. Why,
oh god, why did she piss on my pillow? We will never know, but I'm the
lucky one who got to bring it home with me to see if the dry- cleaner
can do anything about it. I feel so privileged.

****************

There you go. It really happened. You want to know a secret? I never was able to get that pillow cleaned. The dry-cleaner said it would get ruined. So I let it dry, sprayed it with disinfectant stuff, and put it back on the couch. I never sat on that couch ever again. Horrible, isn't it?

I didn't expect questions about painting, yet both questions were (I'll get to the one other question in a moment).

When did I start painting? I've always been into art. My mother is an artist (somewhat) professionally- meaning that she has successfully sold stuff many times. She always encouraged us to be art-y. She used to catch bugs or lizards and trap them in jars so that we could paint or draw them from life. It was actually pretty fantastic. Lizards are surprisingly beautiful, especially their bellys. We always had access to art supplies. We always made our own stuff- cards, decorations, etc- instead of buying.

Then I went to a Waldorf school from 5th grade until I started High School. In the Waldorf school, we didn't have pre-printed text books. We wrote and drew our own from lessons the teacher would give us each day. We did watercolor daily. We had art lessons several times a week. We knitted, we sculpted with wax, we whittled. Art was in everything everyday. It was wonderful.

Then I went to high school. The only art class I took was a Photography course my senior year. I wasn't interested in the other classes. I don't really know why. I was in the art club, however, and ended up with my first real crush... but that's another story.

When I went to college I started as a Child Development major. I wanted to teach Photography to deaf/hard of hearing children. I thought that a child development background would be helpful. But it turns out that it was pretty worthless, for me anyway. So I changed majors and went into Art Studio.

I started in Photography, got bored; went to Jewelry, got bored; spent quite some time in stone Lithography, didn't quite cut it; and then went into painting. I hated it. But it was a requirement and so I did it. Then I had to take another advanced class and so I chose painting because the other choices were sculpture (never been my thing and I HATED the teacher) or Graphic Art (which I have just the tiniest prejudice against).

Well. The advanced paiting class was an ENTIRELY different animal than intro. It was abstract life-painting. We didn't have to use just paints- in fact, we were encouraged to use nearly anything that would stick on paper. It was challenging and exciting and the best class I ever took. So I took it again. It was different, but still marvellous. Most of the real work I've ever done in my life was accomplished in that class.

And I haven't painted much since.

Partly it's because I don't have access to nude models often (or more like ever!). I can't stand still lifes- Just can't go there. And it's really hard to paint from memory.

Partly it's because I don't have the time or the space. I get messy and involved when I paint. I don't have a space in my house where that would be appropriate. My dream would be to buy a house where I could build a little studio or turn part of the house into one. Once Cole is older I may have some more time to myself when I want it. Who knows.

So, to answer the second question of when I might start painting again- For sure? I can only say: in retirement. Unless I get some hugely rich patron who pays me to stay at home and paint. Anyone? Anyone?

That's what I thought.

I do want to investigate the process of professionally reproducing some of my stuff and selling it over the internet. Maybe. One day.

I love art and painting, but I love being with my son and not having him around the harmful chemicals more.

Wait, let me amend that second answer: I'll paint again when Cole does. Finger paints fuckin' RULE, man!

In other words, I've got nuthin' today. Absolutely zilch. Nothing to tide you over for the weekend. Nothing to make you laugh, make you cry, make you wish you never started reading this damn blog in the first place. Now that's really nuthin'.

I'm really glad it's Friday.

In the "nuthin'" theme we have going,  I have to warn you all that I will be on vacation from Thursday until Tuesday. Good for me but bad for having posts up. I'm going to the "wilderness" of no internet connection to camp.

So help me out, lovely readers. I need something! Anything! Hey, how about questions!! You ask me all of the burning questions you have inside about me, my blog, make-up, art, costuming, pop-psychology and I'll answer. If I don't know I'll make shit up and that could be interesting, too.

I have tried this question thing before and got ZERO questions. Do you all already know everything (considering I write about EVERYTHING here, that is a possibility)? Do you not care? Do you not really have the time and energy to do my work for me while also leading your busy lives?

Well, I'd love questions if you have the time/interest/time/time again (I know it's my biggest problem!).

Hit me!

In case you don't go back and read my comment sections obsessively (gosh, why not? You must be CRAZY not to.), I will make a general announcement.

I turned 27. I am now 27. 27.

(Knock, knock, knockin' on thirty's door, Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah, Knock knock, knockin' on thirty's door...)

Actually, I'm not upset about it. I have everything that is really important to me and I feel very successful so far in my life. Plus, have you seen my kid? That gorgeous one? Yeah- I'm cool.

Of course, if anyone wants to offer to be my patron so that I can stay at home and paint and take care of Cole, I wouldn't turn you down. Just sayin'.

**************************************************************
On a mostly unrelated note, but since I'm in an announcement kinda mood:

The picture at the top is mine. Please don't steal it. Please don't make too much fun of me for it, my almost 30 year old feelings are very delicate. It is (sort of) of my sister. I'm very fond of it. And of her, come to think of it.

I will be doing some slow work on the site- mostly just adding some of you lovelies who come here so often and say such nice things to me (you ROCK!!). Many of you have so generously given me some space on your sites and I am happily going to return the favor. Just as soon as I have time.

Adorable little devil.
Charming. Just charming.


What a precious child.

*Gasp* Isn't he just the handsomest?

Of course, he comes by it naturally.




The face he made when he saw me through the screen.

But he still loves me bestest.


Actually, he was laughing his tiny butt off at the faces I was making and at the fact that I was copying him. He just LOVES to smash his face against things- the pack-and-play walls, his crib slats, the wall, my face. I think it must be a teething thing- pressure headaches because of the shark teeth slicing through his gums at a geologic rate. At least I hope it's a teething thing.

Hmmm...

Holy shit- I'm actually facing in the right direction. How'd that happen?

Anyway, I guess this is proof that I actually do things right sometimes. The beautiful, perfect child I created, I mean.

This week... This week will be interesting, no doubt. We have no idea what this hand pain is all about, but I, in my usual fashion, will not go to the doctor for it. Nope. Refuse.

(But damn, it hurts.)

And it's slow here at work. So PAINFULLY slow. Where's all the work we were promised? Where are all the reports to read? Did I hurt your feelings with my red-lines and now you are taking your reports elsewhere? Don't cheat on me like that!

And I gave a particularly idiotic and disfunctional performance in a public place on my birthday last Sunday (that didn't involve alcohol but did involve the abuse of hip-wiggling privileges).

On Sunday, after spending the morning first losing key bits of my sewing machine and then cattily chatting the ear off of the ever-patient (except with kipper snacks) T. Kamice, I shook my fat stuff at an event in a local hotel.

I have been belly dancing a month. Everyone else there has been at it well over a year, and most far longer than that. I was asked to improvise, which has never been something I'm any good at, even with (what I consider) my best skillz. This is not one of them.

Then I was asked to be a part of a troupe routine. That I have done once. In class. Badly.

What I have to say about that is twofold- 1) At one point I was faced in an entirely different direction than anyone else in the group; and 2) O my fucking gawd- it was my fourth grade "talent" show all over again. I have only recently gotten over those nightmares.

The weird thing is I wasn't embarassed at all on Sunday. In fact, it wasn't until the 50 million^100th time I ran it through obsessively in my head that I became completely horrified that I'd ever have to see anyone EVER again.

I never once had stage fright or jitters that day. I wasn't obsessing over my fat belly, thinking omigawd that totally skinny girl hates me right now because she can't even look at flab without wanting to vomit and she was, for once, actually enjoying a bud light without thinking about how she'd have to throw it up later. None of that. I didn't register anyone but my fellow dancers. And I had fun despite forgetting everything I ever learned in class and finding myself doing some sort of retarded salsa move to middle eastern music.

For once. I had fun.

But again, in classic ME fashion, I couldn't let it last. In the version currently playing in my head, I not only turned the wrong way but I also peed myself and then got up in front of the crowd to sing an extended Inna Godda Davida complete with air guitar and head banging.

Why can't I just let myself have a good thing? Why can't it be okay that I got up and fucking TRIED for once, instead of being a chickenshit sitting on the side watching everyone else have a great time? Why can't I allow myself a failure because I'm not perfect at everything the first time I try once in a while?

Surprisingly, and not at all in usual ME fashion, I am planning to go back to class tonight and face the possible wrath of "those who I made look terrible because I suck and don't know my motherfucking right from left." Previously, I would have stopped dancing. And perhaps fled the country.

But I'll go back. Because I'm working on it, this work in progress that is ME.

I could have used a less mortifying birthday, but it will probably be a memorable one. If I get any pictures where I am facing the right way, I'll post them. Especially because Cole looked so freakin' cute in his tiny harem pants and sash. Oh! And he had a bindi on, too (one of the sparkly, stick-on "fashion" kinds that matched mine.). Cutest. Thing. Ever.

I think I have the beginnings of Carpal Tunnel.

I think I should stop typing now.

I'm having a bad day.

The other night I was wandering around the grocery store wondering at all of the adults that seemed so...happy. It seemed like they were all about to go to a really great party, and perhaps had already started imbibing at home. I could not figure out why until I overheard a kid say "It's the first day of school tomorrow, isn't it Mom?" And she said "YES!"

Back to School. By the way, Mervyn's is having a great sale in celebration. Cole now has clothes for a while.

It was funny the other night. Maybe not so much now. I have been a little punchy lately- the lost sleep due to hellacious teething.

Oh, and my Birthday/Housewarming party is now officially off. We'll do something some other time. It's just too crazy/busy/sleepless right now. I don't want anyone in my house at the moment. I might snap and make you clean every dog hair off of the bathroom floor! (My dog stank so badly last night when we got home that I immediately shut her in the bathroom and tortured bathed her. Now the bathroom has a lovely black coat...) I snapped at John last night about how he keeps closing the window in MY bathroom. "Why do you have to close the fucking window? If you don't like it open, DON'T FUCKING GO IN THERE!" And I love him even more than I love you guys  (and I totally love you guys) so I have no idea what I would do to you. Really, you should thank me for not inviting you over. Crazy could be catching. And you might just be forced to take home a teething 9 month old. Scary.

I guess Kermie got a little tired of Cole chewing on his eyeballs.

So he attacked!

Cole was surprised, but Kermit was WAY out of his weightclass and Cole was able to shrug him off fairly easily.

Cole thought it was over, but you should never NEVER turn your back on an angry muppet.

Kermie comes from out of nowhere and tackles Cole!

Cole is almost pushed to the ground due to sheer shock. He doesn't know what hit him.

Cole tries to crawl away, but Kermit is tenacious and he hangs on.

To gain the advantage, Kermie turns to dirty tricks and BITES COLE'S EAR!!!

In his fury, Cole is able to shake the nasty muppet off of his back.
Kermie's in trouble now and he knows it!

Cole pushes off a final attack.




Then he flips Kermie over and gives him a mean mouth stretching that he'll not soon forget.

Match goes to.... COLE!!

***Champion***

Hey Mom, I'm number ONE!!!

Busy today.

Coming tomorrow (I hope): SMACKDOWN!

(No, not like Amalah's. Better.)

Ooh- you just can't WAIT, can you?!

Yesterday, at daycare, Cole climbed backwards out of his sling chair, which he was firmly strapped into, and fell out and landed on his face on the tile.

I have mixed feelings about it. On one side, I feel like screaming "You lazy fucking neglectful abusive BITCH!" and on the other side I realize, hey- it could have happened while he was under my care, too. Shit happens. Babies get bumps and bruises and it's usually their own fault. I'm not going to put Cole into situations that I know are in any way dangerous, but I can't protect him from every ache and pain, either.

It's tough. You want to always be there for your baby, to protect, nurture, and show him you love him every minute. But it doesn't work that way. I'm not ready to give that up, but I have to. He's growing up so fast.

Cole will be fine. It looked for a little while that he might get a shiner, but this morning the bruise color had faded considerably. I'm not really mad at his daycare lady; I know she would die before she let any of her babies come to any real harm. She loves them completely, as if they were her own. I trust her and I don't worry when Cole is there.

But it was still just a little bit harder to hand Cole over this morning.

For the first time last night, Cole pointed at my face and said clearly and decisively: Mama.

After I re-formed from the puddle I had become, I caught him up and cuddled and smooched the heck out of him. He probably won't do it again ever because he thinks he was punished for it!

But what a beautiful word it was.

This weekend was so nice.

Friday night we went to a street "faire" and just walked around. Didn't spend a cent. Even got free champagne! Then we went out to dinner with my parents which is (nearly) always nice.

We also found out that, due to someone leaving the company, my husband may be in a REALLY good position for a nice raise. Gotta love that!

Saturday, Cole, my mom, my sister, my nephew, my sister's friends, their kids, and I went to a blues festival here in town. There was some really good music! Sadly, the kids (not mine) wore themselves out and we had to leave earlier than I would have liked. My sister and I cooked a pretty decent Thai curry stir fry (she sliced up her finger so I ended up doing most of it) and the kids actually put THEMSELVES to bed! Incredible!! (They're 4, by the way)

Sunday, we had a delicious crepe breakfast. It was make-your-own and we had blueberries, mango, nectarines, ricotta, mozarella, basil, tomato, and Bananas Foster-type bananas that I made (First time- no recipe. I'd say that I pulled it outta my ass, but that's never a good phrase to use about cooking.). Then we just lazed around the pool until the visiting folks had to go home.

And my sister brought John a Kermit the Frog doll. We've been trying to find a Kermit puppet for years because John can do the voice so well and the things he says are so funny, but Kermie puppets are nearly impossible to find. The Kermit doll was a very nice surprise. Cole likes to chew his eyeballs. (Damn. I forgot to get a picture of that. I owe you.)

I finally gave him a haircut. A real one, not just a little trim around the ears. While he was asleep.

Here are a couple of pictures from Friday when his hair was still long. You can't see it really well, but you can kinda catch the curls that were starting. He was looking awfully shaggy.

Here baby, try some ice.

Whoa- that shit's cold!

And here are some pictures from this morning- two days, one haircut, and one bath later:





I tried to get a better picture, but this is mostly what I got:

Knock it off with the effin' flash already, Mom.

But he looks precious- trust me. And I'm very proud of the job I did. Even his daycare lady was impressed, and she's never happy with ANYTHING parents do!

What do you think?

So I got this gorgeous new camera, right, because my old camera bit it. I bought a case for it and everything, that's how much in love with it I am. I never had a case for the old one in all the three years I had it (and I wonder why it broke!). This camera is delicious and sparkly and whiz-bangy and good.

And I've taken exactly 7 pictures with it in the two weeks I've owned it.

What the hell is my problem?

Is this going to be like the sticker thing? When I was growing up I had a fascination with stickers. Any stickers. Even the ones off of fruit. But I loved them so much that I couldn't EVER use them.

Instead, they stayed in a paper bag in my desk drawer. I would take them out and categorize them on my bed, occasionally thinking "I could use this one on Grammy's birthday card" or some such thing. But I never did.

When we moved from Pittsburgh back to California, we threw away/gave away/donated/sold almost everything that we felt wasn't entirely necessary so that we'd be able to get everything into one moving truck. I still have those stickers. None have ever been used. Some are the ugliest things you've ever seen. They are all stickers only a little kid would like. I don't take them out any more even. I have no idea why I still keep them.

Anyway, I just don't want the camera to be like the stickers. In my head it's as if I could use it up or something. It's like I can only use it if I have the EXACT PERFECT picture I want.

What a dumbass.

(And don't even get me started about using candles.)

That's IT?! I invite you all into my home to celebrate the 27th anniversary of my birth and I get TWO responses?!

*sniff*sniff*

You guys don't love me at all, do you?

You'd better all have really good excuses for not showing up. Living in another state is not good enough!!T

Sooooo... My birthday's coming up. Just thought that was an interesting little tid-bit. Do with it what you will.

Because my bithday's almost here, I'm planning a birthday party. I would have it on my actual birthday (the 20th), but we have an event the day before and who wants to party on a Sunday, anyway?

So I'm having it on the 26th. It's a Saturday. It's also going to be a housewarming party, though that seems a little silly now that we know for sure we only have about 9 months left.

But whatever- a party's a party!

And did I mention that my birthday is around the same time?

If you will be in central California on August 26th and would like more information about my birthday party ('cause you know you love me and want to bring me stuff come party and eat good food), drop me a comment or an email (my profile has my gmail) and I'll write back with the details.

Please come. Our parties are always so pitiful- we have lots of food and drinks and, if we're lucky, about 2 guests. What's wrong with our parties? Do we smell?

Show up (and try not to barf on the dog) and I'll love you forever. Swear.

Firstly- the questions:

Yes, I still check my Hotmail account, but I hate it. Gmail is better.

Tilapia is fish. The 13 year old part of me just thinks that "fish tacos" sound... icky. And maybe a little bit dirty.

And anyway, Tilapia taco sounds much more fun when you say it. Tilapia Taco, Tilapia Taco, Tilapia Taco, Tee-laah-peeah Taah-coh.

They were bland because I wasn't expecting to cook for company and just happened to have Tilapia in my frige and had never made Tilapia tacos before. I know now what I would do differently next time. The good side of how I cooked them was that I was really hungry and everything went from fresh ingredients to finished dinner in about 15 minutes.

Any more questions? Really, if you have any, ask away! I'm nearly shameless. I'll answer almost anything. And I could use the help for material...

Cole is here at work with me today. His daycare has the day off. As always, it's wonderful to have him near me all day, but it certainly doesn't make it easy to get anything done.

Last night John and I got a call from the owner of our house. He is selling it. We have at most a year and at least 9 months to find somewhere else. It sounds like a long time, but we only just moved in. I'm not ready to move again. I don't want to move unless it's into a house that I OWN, and I don't know when we'll be able to afford a house around here (right now "starter" houses are going for about $350,000. Um, yeah- I don't have that kind of money. Not even enough for a mortgage for that kind of money.)

So, we have to devise a scheme to make the real estate market come down and FAST. Any ideas?

To end on a good note, friends are moving into town and other friends aren't moving away (yet). I see some major creative, productive times ahead of us. It could be really fantastic. I'm so optimistic. I'll keep you all updated.

This totally rocks! I was CHOSEN (Cue:Choir).  I was the blog of the week over at Princess and Johnsy's. I feel like I won something.

I never win anything.

ever.

*sniff*

So it was a really nice way to start my week- coming into the office to find all of the lovely comments. I do love me some comments.

And it was a pretty good weekend, too.

We started it on Friday by playing Bocce ball with my parents and some of their friends. Actually, I didn't so much PLAY as sit around and drink wine and crack dumb jokes all night. But it was fun. And I made brownies.

I love brownies.

On Saturday John and I cleaned and cleaned and I ransacked "Cole's" room looking for the missing crib pieces (they disappeared in the move and so we haven't had a crib since February). I was able to find them and we set up the crib. Or, as I should refer to it, O lovely, lovely bringer of deep baby through-the-night sleep, I WORSHIP you!

Cole LOVES his crib. LOVES IT. He will play in it, stand up in it, chew happily on its railing. And, best of all, SLEEP! Through the night! Two nights in a row!

Of course, I still did not sleep through the night as I had to wake every 15 minutes just to check that he was indeed still breathing and he wasn't too cold.

Also Saturday night (though, I have to admit, somewhat eclipsed by the delicious baby sleep), we had our good friend Ticknart over for pizza and movies. We kicked it old school and watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on video. Cowabunga! It was radical, dude.

On Sunday we saw John's brother (who we haven't seen for 4 years, mostly because he's been in jail and on meth) and his 14 month old daughter (who we met for the first time). His brother has now been clean for 14 months and is trying really hard to regain custody of his daughter (who is totally cute). He's doing great and we're really proud of his achievements.

Then we saw some friends and got some really fun news (not of the baby sort, though that's always fun, too). And I made tilapia tacos which were really bland (so, SO sorry).

And then I came to work and you all were here!

Fantastic all around (though I think I should work on those damn tilapia tacos.)

Cole had his 9 month well baby check-up yesterday.

Stats:
21 lbs., 11 oz (75th percentile)
30 inches tall (95th percentile)
1 ear infection

Yup, he's a big guy with a funky ear.

They gave us a prescription for amoxcicillan (which, by the way, I just spelled right the first time. Am spelling GOD. I should win a freakin' medal.) which Cole took this morning without a fuss. In fact, he was pissed that I wouldn't give him any more. That kid will eat ANYTHING.

Otherwise he was fine. He smiled and giggled at the doctor and all the nurses. Even when the doc had to dig wax out of his ear he didn't cry- he just squirmed a little. When the doctor moved Cole's hands away from the stethescope, Cole just gave him his little crooked grin like "yeah, you caught me. I was going to yank that out of your ears and shove it in my mouth- you're right."

I have the best kid.

Now, can somebody send one of the hotty pediatricians everyone is always talking about my way? Because Cole's doctor? Yeah. Not so much of the hottness.

***Updated to say: Am complete moron and damn google made me not realize it. Can't spell worth a damn, in fact, and should get a boot to the head instead of medal. I apologize for my bravado, especially since I can't spell apologize right the first time most of the time, either.***

Did I show you this one?

Yosemite/Half Dome from Glacier Point

And did I tell you about the tooth? The one that bullied its way through my son's gums? The one that, though not yet big enough to bite, continually scrapes, scrapes, scrapes away at me as he nurses at night?

Why did I want him to have teeth?

When will I stop wishing for things that are going to be bad for me?

***************

(Pre-teeth) Oooh! I can't wait until he has teeth! Oh my gosh- then he'll be like a real person, only, tiny! How cute!! SQUEE!

(At first emergence of teeth) TEETH! TEETH! Aw! Good job, baby! You did it! What a big boy!!

(A few hours after first emergence of teeth) WTF? Teeth! There are fucking teeth in there! That BITE! Like TEETH do! Who told you you could grow teeth? And they're friggin SHARP, like little baby shark teeth. 'Cause they're new and haven't been ground down by all the years of chomping on stuff. But you're making up for lost time, aren't you? What?! More teeth?! Knock it off with the teeth already! Who needs more than two, anyway?

**************

But then, I guess, you get over it. After all, who can resist that goofy, two-bottom-toothed baby smile?