In regard to this previous post:
A letter to the Producers of our Yummy Mummy Segment:
Dear K****** and L****,
I need to write in to tell you how much the experience of being a part of Y*Yummy Mummy has hurt our family.
What began as an attempt to treat my husband to a good experience, with it clearly stated that the only "change" that was needed for him to feel good about himself since he had been working so hard for our family and needed to present himself well for job interviews, became a humiliating ordeal that has only become more embarrassing with time.
I very clearly conveyed that I did not want my husband's dignity to be assaulted in any way, and feel that was ignored for the sake of a pre-determined agenda. The 1970's Era Elvis postcard shown to him at the spa was a poor joke - not only an incorrect period reference, but also a cheap shot at his expense. I was unaware of that until the show aired. Shame on you. He was a good enough sport through silly outfits and painful treatments, and all you could see of this wonderful guy was an inaccurate Elvis reference.
I now see that the eleven hour-long day of disorganized filming was mostly unnecessary. What made it to air was twisted and truncated to fit a pre-determined format. The two hours I spent sitting at Bymark, unable to order food because we couldn't afford to was a waste of my time; and that time spent crying there at the table because it was the first time I'd left my baby alone for that long was justified. Did you know that the manager, ******, felt so sorry for what you put us through that she sent us home with a complete meal, dessert, and wine - as well as inviting us back for a complimentary good experience another time, simply because we were "nice" about everything? She had never seen a professional so unable to handle a situation such as that, L****.
Beyond what Steve told me of the difficulties of his day, such as simply organizing lunch and the camera operator's admitting that it should have been a two-day shoot, there has been the dismay subsequent to finding that our disappointment with the production seems to have no end. Lindi, we are finding at every turn that your unprofessionalism causes us to be uncomfortable with what we did.
An old friend of Steve's from high school happened to see the work in progress during editing, and got in touch to comment on what he saw, expressing his horror at Steve's experience. When Suzanne King, a friend I referred to be in a segment (and who is not entirely thrilled about her experience either) updated me as to when hers would air, I then got in touch to find out about ours since we hadn't received that courtesy. Lindi, you then forwarded my email to someone who left your private title for it attached - "Daddy Makeover Gone Wrong". I'm sure it seems like a cute reference, but it went wrong because you treated him badly - not because, as it appeared on the show due to editing, I simply wanted him changed and he was so thoroughly resistant.
And so I will end by saying that post-airing, we have received too many comments from our understanding friends along the lines of "How could you do that to Steve?".
Here is part of one email I received this morning: "And they really made a mess. Poor Steve. I ran into him a million years ago and he'd said that the whole thing had been awful. But I had assumed that they would have cut and pasted the sequence in such a way as to give it a positive spin. But I guess they would have had nothing to show if they'd done that."
Another friend wrote this: "Having just watched The Steve Show (a.k.a. Yummy Daddy), I just want to say that Steve gets the best sport of the year award for 2005." It is too bad for us that people actually watch the show.
Yet it still hasn't ended. I just received this from Steve, who since filming the show has been in a long-term freelance engagement at a top agency. Our family's entire financial existence depends on this, you know.
"In front on me in the line up is one of (X)'s top copywriters. He turns around and says,"I saw you on TV last night..." And then it starts. He comes into the studio, my work place, and says, "Steve was on Yummy Mummy's TV show last night, I'm going to try and get a screen shot from the show." The entire studio is now piqued about the show, questions, questions, questions. He (the copywriter) did say, "That's really insulting the way they treated you!"
As for me? You made me look like a jerk for wanting to change him. Not one bit of how much I love him and how much I appreciated him working so hard for us made it into the final product. Only that his look hadn't changed "one iota" in ten years. That was never the case - all of the questions that were asked garnered honest answers that stressed that I did not want to change him entirely, but to make him FEEL better and look great so he could present himself well when out searching for employment - but that didn't fit the pre-planned agenda. In the end, he felt like the butt of a joke. And now, he feels that he cannot trust that I would never do something hurtful like that again. He expected to be treated somewhat badly - but it still stings.
As Steve wrote this morning:
"Might I remind you of the scene in Notting Hill when Julia Roberts
encounters the sea of photographers at Hugh Grant's front door.
To paraphrase:
"It's just one day," he says.
"No," she says, "the have my image now, it's my whole life. It's forever."
L****, the way you treated my family was horrible. Your lack of sensitivity showed itself in various little ways on the day we filmed the episode - but that combined with your inexperience in dealing with people truly manifested itself when you couldn't manage to put a positive spin on what we were able to offer - and so we are now just feeling the salt in our still-healing wounds.
I am sorry that your interest in producing a specific product couldn't jibe with the reality of what was, actually, our reality. You didn't have to maltreat us to get a good storyline - the true and honest one was better.
Sincerely,
Marla Good
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
From This Angle It Was Pretty Funny Too.
Now just imagine, when we visit my parents' home, how frequently we get to witness my father's naps on the sofa like this...in his underwear.
Monday, September 26, 2005
How To Get Free Dishwasher In 47 Easy Steps If You're Marla
1) Remember your father-in-law's birthday is coming up about a month beforehand.
2) Think about how nice he and your mother-in-law are, and how sad it is that nobody else has offered to do anything yet.
3) Thoughtfully offer out loud to host a brunch on the Sunday his birthday falls on.
4) Realize that people heard you and that you really have to do it.
5) Forget all about it for the most part for a few weeks.
6) Except when you can't sleep at night, then lay awake and think about all you have to do to get ready for this.
7) Which includes renovating the entire house.
8) About a week before, ask your mother and father to come, because they'd love a visit and it's far more tolerable to have them around when there are others to distract them.
9) Accept their offer to bring a seventeen pound ham, and ask them to bring your favourite coffee, some Jiffy corn muffin mix, and some of that FABULOUS new underwear you got at Target on your last trip, and two more of those bras that fit really well.
9 1/2) You couldn't know that you would love that underwear and those bras so much until you got them home and wore and washed them a few times to see if they'd stay wonderful. And they did!
10) Don't care that your Father went to Target to buy your underwear and a few bras.
11) Refuse everyone else's offers to bring things, because they're always things that either don't go with the rest of the meal you've prepared or they require cooking upon arrival when the oven and stovetop are already full.
12) Decide the first priority is buying decorative cabbages and flowering kale for your flowerpots. The back yard looks so dingy!
13) Be glad the neighbours on both sides have the most amazing Morning Glories that cover the fences, so it looks like WE have the nice garden!
14) (Edited in later, thanks to a gentle nudge) Remember to let it drop during the party how much you like the "patina" the vintage metal outdoor furniture has developed and how much more valuable it is because of it; because really there just wasn't time to sand and touch up the rusty spots. Also buy larger serving dishes from the Dollar store, because your mom said she's making her cream puffs, and since there are never cream puffs in your house, you have nothing sufficient to put them on. Also, wonder why people like your mother's cream puffs so much. They're just wads of dough she bakes the night before and then they are stuffed with canned vanilla pudding and crappy store bought chocolate frosting both of which are sold in unrecyclable containers. Think back about how she used to make every componant of them from scratch and how good they used to be back then, and now she cheats on everything. She won't even bake real yams for holiday dinners any more - she uses canned stuff there too. Mourn the loss of more things from your childhood.
15) Let lots of dog poo accumulate for a week, because you're going to have to do a big good cleanup the day before anyway. Then make your husband do it.
16) Decide when it gets dark the night before that it is the perfect time for your husband, who is hosing off the poopy deck, to try that Windex stuff for outside windows that attaches to the garden hose and pray he don't break any panes with it. It looks like it works fine...until you look at them in the morning. Think about calling a window washer some day.
17) Buy a 1959 Westinghouse refrigerator to replace your 1954 Frigidaire, and have to clean it, replace the cord, and re-fill it within the week before the party.
18) Have trouble finding any friends to help you move the old fridge out of the kitchen.
18 1/2) Because after you move one of those old fridges, you have to let it sit for twenty-four hours before you plug it in - so they friend who helped move it there isn't around to do it. But the two fridges in the kitchen are taking up too much room. One HAS to go.
19) You and your husband get the old fridge stuck in the stairway to the basement, and realize it will have to sit there through the party because the two of you are too weak and uncoordinated to move it downstairs yourselves; and the men who are coming to the party are either fourteen, the birthday boy who is seventy-five and only has one lung and diabetes, newlywed to Steve's cousin and having a bad back, or your teenaged niece's new boyfriend who is an unknown entity - or your father, who will be depicted unflatteringly later in this post.
20) Cut your daughter's hair in bangs so that the large yellow bruise that remains from the goose egg she got a week ago Monday doesn't show so much. Remember to remind your mother-in-law that she's babysitting Monday night for your infant and toddler first aid class at the Ella Centre.
21) Go get your hair cut into a really short, but really peppy and swingy bob the day before, for only thirty dollars from the nice lady named Orchid at the barbershop near the store you work at - and don't cry about it! Hooray!
22) Go and buy a crazy amount of groceries, sneaking in things like mini bagels and mini croissants supposedly for the party - but really because you've been dying to try them because they'd be so easy to feed Josephine. Throw in some raspberries for yourself, and pretty napkins.
23) Realize it's probably going to rain, so you'd better make plans for eighteen people to spend a few hours in your living room.
23 1/2) Your living/dining room is less than 400 square feet.
23 3/4) And it's desperately in need of renovation, a sickly green colour you half-sanded off in a fit of pique during your pregnancy, and attached to your gross hallway with the dirty stairs.
24) Realize that dramatic lighting and flowers is the best way to not have to dust. Smoke and Mirrors! Smoke and Mirrors! That, and spike the orange juice.
25) Place your awesome birthday present from your husband where everyone is sure to see it and compliment it, making him look like a great guy in front of his family, especially his sister who just broke up with her boyfriend of six years.
26) Be grateful that it stops raining just in time to shoo everyone outside.
27) His sister arrives with an appetizer (um, chips and dip) and asks where the microwave is so she can cook the dip.
28) Explain smugly that we don't have a microwave. Have the reason that "I always cook fresh healthy meals for my family and turn leftovers into other delicious fixin's instead of reheating them" ready, because it's not the time to explain your beliefs that microwaves alter the molecular structure of food and may be doing us all great harm.
29) Be glad that the house is clean enough, the backyard is dry (enough, with a few vinyl tablecloths) and the food is delicious and everyone is having a good time.
30) Except for your father, who with his bad back claims he can't sit anywhere but this one chair, where he spends the afternoon napping while everyone is outside having fun. Beauty naps beside him, stuffed full of all of the food she has been given "just one bite" of (ham, bacon, sausage, eggs with cheese, eggs with cheese, red peppers, jalapeno peppers and green onions, crossants, bagels both wheat and plain, banana muffins, chocolate chip muffins, coffee cake, mesclun salad with mandarin oranges and raspberry dressing, sliced watermelon, fruit salad, Krispy Kreme donuts, and a strawberry-chocolate charlotte); her bloated carcass off-gassing it fitfully.
31) Realize that the reason Josephine is afraid of your father is because she has probably seen him napping. Sweet Jesus! He looks like a CORPSE!
32) Speaking of Jesus, make sure the Louvin Brothers "Satan is Real" CD is in rotation, and feel smug when the supposedly religious microwavable dip bringing sister is a little freaked by it.
33) Be glad when everyone is finally leaving. You've been looking forward to this part ever since the words "We'll host a brunch for Glen's birthday" left your mouth a month ago.
34) Run the dishwasher, but forget to put the soap in.
35) Let your husband and mother empty it, even though the dishes are not clean enough and should be run again, simply because you get creeped out by your fingers squeaking on clean glasses. Avoidance is cheaper than therapy.
35 1/2) Let your mother observe your husband washing the dishes, so that she knows he is a good husband, even though he only gets the dishes "boy clean" and not "girl clean". Tell her you value his help, and that you wouldn't diminish his efforts by criticizing him. (Silently thinking, "in front of them...I'll get him later!")
36) After everyone has gone, sit around with your parents and watch Josephine open her new present - of course it is the kind that only grandparents would buy.
37) A kid-sized Hoover vacuum cleaner that really sucks up stuff and takes four batteries that cost a quarter of what the toy retails for - sheesh.
38) Wonder when household drudgery became "fun".
39) Try not to cackle with glee or feel bitter due to the association when it is pushed into my hands by Josephine, who proclaims "Mommy a-cuums." and takes off to go play with the box, ignoring it for the rest of their visit.
40) Say good-bye to the parents, unscrew the cap from the warm white wine and pour a glass to be consumed while doing the rest of the clean-up.
41) Immediately get a sulphite wine headache.
42) Listen to all of the gossip I missed during the party, including the part where my mom told Steve my father had another "spell" (where he gets dizzy and passes out) at the track, and this occurred three weeks ago.
43) Don't care that I wasn't told, but care that I don't care, that he gets right back in that car after his hospital visit, and so does she - and he continues to drive a liveried car with passengers as his job despite his condition.
44) Go to bed early in order enjoy reading the magazines we subscribe that are delivered to Buffalo (because it is So. Much. Cheaper. to do so than it is to subscribe or buy them individually in Canada). Notice how much new haircut looks like Paris Hilton's nice bob!
44 1/2) Try not to wet the bed with glee when he casually mentions by the way that my mother privately offered to buy us a new dishwasher, because ours obviously doesn't work anymore and it's so important that we have clean dishes for Josephine.
45) Remember to have him wash dishes at her house on our next visit, just in case she forgets, or in case perhaps it was an idle promise.
46) Give Steve a kiss and a snuggle and settle in to sleep.
47) Smell the pungent odour of Rottweiller farts, and prepare for the first of three visits outside overnight that will re-poop up the back yard, and no doubt end up in another sixty-seven dollar tummy ache.
But hey! We're getting a new dishwasher!
2) Think about how nice he and your mother-in-law are, and how sad it is that nobody else has offered to do anything yet.
3) Thoughtfully offer out loud to host a brunch on the Sunday his birthday falls on.
4) Realize that people heard you and that you really have to do it.
5) Forget all about it for the most part for a few weeks.
6) Except when you can't sleep at night, then lay awake and think about all you have to do to get ready for this.
7) Which includes renovating the entire house.
8) About a week before, ask your mother and father to come, because they'd love a visit and it's far more tolerable to have them around when there are others to distract them.
9) Accept their offer to bring a seventeen pound ham, and ask them to bring your favourite coffee, some Jiffy corn muffin mix, and some of that FABULOUS new underwear you got at Target on your last trip, and two more of those bras that fit really well.
9 1/2) You couldn't know that you would love that underwear and those bras so much until you got them home and wore and washed them a few times to see if they'd stay wonderful. And they did!
10) Don't care that your Father went to Target to buy your underwear and a few bras.
11) Refuse everyone else's offers to bring things, because they're always things that either don't go with the rest of the meal you've prepared or they require cooking upon arrival when the oven and stovetop are already full.
12) Decide the first priority is buying decorative cabbages and flowering kale for your flowerpots. The back yard looks so dingy!
13) Be glad the neighbours on both sides have the most amazing Morning Glories that cover the fences, so it looks like WE have the nice garden!
14) (Edited in later, thanks to a gentle nudge) Remember to let it drop during the party how much you like the "patina" the vintage metal outdoor furniture has developed and how much more valuable it is because of it; because really there just wasn't time to sand and touch up the rusty spots. Also buy larger serving dishes from the Dollar store, because your mom said she's making her cream puffs, and since there are never cream puffs in your house, you have nothing sufficient to put them on. Also, wonder why people like your mother's cream puffs so much. They're just wads of dough she bakes the night before and then they are stuffed with canned vanilla pudding and crappy store bought chocolate frosting both of which are sold in unrecyclable containers. Think back about how she used to make every componant of them from scratch and how good they used to be back then, and now she cheats on everything. She won't even bake real yams for holiday dinners any more - she uses canned stuff there too. Mourn the loss of more things from your childhood.
15) Let lots of dog poo accumulate for a week, because you're going to have to do a big good cleanup the day before anyway. Then make your husband do it.
16) Decide when it gets dark the night before that it is the perfect time for your husband, who is hosing off the poopy deck, to try that Windex stuff for outside windows that attaches to the garden hose and pray he don't break any panes with it. It looks like it works fine...until you look at them in the morning. Think about calling a window washer some day.
17) Buy a 1959 Westinghouse refrigerator to replace your 1954 Frigidaire, and have to clean it, replace the cord, and re-fill it within the week before the party.
18) Have trouble finding any friends to help you move the old fridge out of the kitchen.
18 1/2) Because after you move one of those old fridges, you have to let it sit for twenty-four hours before you plug it in - so they friend who helped move it there isn't around to do it. But the two fridges in the kitchen are taking up too much room. One HAS to go.
19) You and your husband get the old fridge stuck in the stairway to the basement, and realize it will have to sit there through the party because the two of you are too weak and uncoordinated to move it downstairs yourselves; and the men who are coming to the party are either fourteen, the birthday boy who is seventy-five and only has one lung and diabetes, newlywed to Steve's cousin and having a bad back, or your teenaged niece's new boyfriend who is an unknown entity - or your father, who will be depicted unflatteringly later in this post.
20) Cut your daughter's hair in bangs so that the large yellow bruise that remains from the goose egg she got a week ago Monday doesn't show so much. Remember to remind your mother-in-law that she's babysitting Monday night for your infant and toddler first aid class at the Ella Centre.
21) Go get your hair cut into a really short, but really peppy and swingy bob the day before, for only thirty dollars from the nice lady named Orchid at the barbershop near the store you work at - and don't cry about it! Hooray!
22) Go and buy a crazy amount of groceries, sneaking in things like mini bagels and mini croissants supposedly for the party - but really because you've been dying to try them because they'd be so easy to feed Josephine. Throw in some raspberries for yourself, and pretty napkins.
23) Realize it's probably going to rain, so you'd better make plans for eighteen people to spend a few hours in your living room.
23 1/2) Your living/dining room is less than 400 square feet.
23 3/4) And it's desperately in need of renovation, a sickly green colour you half-sanded off in a fit of pique during your pregnancy, and attached to your gross hallway with the dirty stairs.
24) Realize that dramatic lighting and flowers is the best way to not have to dust. Smoke and Mirrors! Smoke and Mirrors! That, and spike the orange juice.
25) Place your awesome birthday present from your husband where everyone is sure to see it and compliment it, making him look like a great guy in front of his family, especially his sister who just broke up with her boyfriend of six years.
26) Be grateful that it stops raining just in time to shoo everyone outside.
27) His sister arrives with an appetizer (um, chips and dip) and asks where the microwave is so she can cook the dip.
28) Explain smugly that we don't have a microwave. Have the reason that "I always cook fresh healthy meals for my family and turn leftovers into other delicious fixin's instead of reheating them" ready, because it's not the time to explain your beliefs that microwaves alter the molecular structure of food and may be doing us all great harm.
29) Be glad that the house is clean enough, the backyard is dry (enough, with a few vinyl tablecloths) and the food is delicious and everyone is having a good time.
30) Except for your father, who with his bad back claims he can't sit anywhere but this one chair, where he spends the afternoon napping while everyone is outside having fun. Beauty naps beside him, stuffed full of all of the food she has been given "just one bite" of (ham, bacon, sausage, eggs with cheese, eggs with cheese, red peppers, jalapeno peppers and green onions, crossants, bagels both wheat and plain, banana muffins, chocolate chip muffins, coffee cake, mesclun salad with mandarin oranges and raspberry dressing, sliced watermelon, fruit salad, Krispy Kreme donuts, and a strawberry-chocolate charlotte); her bloated carcass off-gassing it fitfully.
31) Realize that the reason Josephine is afraid of your father is because she has probably seen him napping. Sweet Jesus! He looks like a CORPSE!
32) Speaking of Jesus, make sure the Louvin Brothers "Satan is Real" CD is in rotation, and feel smug when the supposedly religious microwavable dip bringing sister is a little freaked by it.
33) Be glad when everyone is finally leaving. You've been looking forward to this part ever since the words "We'll host a brunch for Glen's birthday" left your mouth a month ago.
34) Run the dishwasher, but forget to put the soap in.
35) Let your husband and mother empty it, even though the dishes are not clean enough and should be run again, simply because you get creeped out by your fingers squeaking on clean glasses. Avoidance is cheaper than therapy.
35 1/2) Let your mother observe your husband washing the dishes, so that she knows he is a good husband, even though he only gets the dishes "boy clean" and not "girl clean". Tell her you value his help, and that you wouldn't diminish his efforts by criticizing him. (Silently thinking, "in front of them...I'll get him later!")
36) After everyone has gone, sit around with your parents and watch Josephine open her new present - of course it is the kind that only grandparents would buy.
37) A kid-sized Hoover vacuum cleaner that really sucks up stuff and takes four batteries that cost a quarter of what the toy retails for - sheesh.
38) Wonder when household drudgery became "fun".
39) Try not to cackle with glee or feel bitter due to the association when it is pushed into my hands by Josephine, who proclaims "Mommy a-cuums." and takes off to go play with the box, ignoring it for the rest of their visit.
40) Say good-bye to the parents, unscrew the cap from the warm white wine and pour a glass to be consumed while doing the rest of the clean-up.
41) Immediately get a sulphite wine headache.
42) Listen to all of the gossip I missed during the party, including the part where my mom told Steve my father had another "spell" (where he gets dizzy and passes out) at the track, and this occurred three weeks ago.
43) Don't care that I wasn't told, but care that I don't care, that he gets right back in that car after his hospital visit, and so does she - and he continues to drive a liveried car with passengers as his job despite his condition.
44) Go to bed early in order enjoy reading the magazines we subscribe that are delivered to Buffalo (because it is So. Much. Cheaper. to do so than it is to subscribe or buy them individually in Canada). Notice how much new haircut looks like Paris Hilton's nice bob!
44 1/2) Try not to wet the bed with glee when he casually mentions by the way that my mother privately offered to buy us a new dishwasher, because ours obviously doesn't work anymore and it's so important that we have clean dishes for Josephine.
45) Remember to have him wash dishes at her house on our next visit, just in case she forgets, or in case perhaps it was an idle promise.
46) Give Steve a kiss and a snuggle and settle in to sleep.
47) Smell the pungent odour of Rottweiller farts, and prepare for the first of three visits outside overnight that will re-poop up the back yard, and no doubt end up in another sixty-seven dollar tummy ache.
But hey! We're getting a new dishwasher!
Friday, September 23, 2005
Image From February 10, 2005
Thank you all for the nice comments on the last post. I am truly ashamed of the typos and crappier-than-usual grammar. Instead of fixing it, I'll post this as both an apology and reward for the faithful:
(and just because I detected some doubt as to whether it was believable that I'd let my sweet baby play with a decapitated rubber rat and an empty beer box)
(and just because I detected some doubt as to whether it was believable that I'd let my sweet baby play with a decapitated rubber rat and an empty beer box)
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Everybody Loves A Challenge.
I don't feel much like posting today, but I am tired of looking at the previous posts, and she is napping on my lap right now. So here are two challenges that are floating around (and I'm flouting blog etiquette by not linking to the blogs because I don't have a lot of time this morning and because most of you know of each other anyway):
Seen at Beanie Baby, who got it from Mystery Mommy.
Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
I don't care much for the fifth sentence, and don't like the "or closest to" part of this challenge, because that's wishy-washy. So here's the link. I like the whole post.
For the record, this is from way back when - when I just posted because I had a sleeping baby on my lap that felt like a warm blanket I never wanted to crawl out from under and thankfully there was the whole world on a screen in front of me. It's not much different now, except that instead of resounding echoes, I hear little voices and see tiny figures waving back, and my back hurts more.
Here is a picture that I love from within a day or two of that post (the one I have from that day exactly has her playing with Beauty's chewed-up rubber rat and an empty beer box. I don't really want to share that one, because we look trashy enough most of the time.):
It makes my heart ooze into a puddle of something not unlike all the melted chocolate chips in a freshly baked perfectly crispy yet chewy cookie that's the size of Texas.
There's one. And because I couldn't resist, and thought about this one all night:
From Postcards From The Mothership, via A Peek Inside The Fishbowl (Nancy over at Blog Pourri did a great job with this one too!):
"about how we all have those little somethings in our houses that we love - things that give you a little ping of joy when you look at them."
Now, I've shown a few of my weird things that I find likeable before here:
But, hidden amongst the bizarre and twisted objects are the things people might think are really nice if they were in a grown-up's house with real furniture and neutral paint colours:
This is a bowl/vase thingy I've had for a dozen or more years. I love Sascha Brastoff's pottery, and this is a fine piece. It's as thin as porcelain, a complex shape to throw, and the glaze is lovely. It's a night time city scene, and I sometimes like to imagine that it is a world within a world, and that I might get to visit it some day. I would like more of his pieces, but I don’t really need to own them at this time. This piece is very satisfying.
And this tryptic by Kris Knight is something I'm very fond of. It's in our bedroom, although the three paintings are not hung together. They are wonderful things to lay eyes on as the last things I see at night or the first things I see in the morning. That is, when there isn't a sweaty-headed toddler curled into my side.
The paintings were hanging at the Cameron. I saw them during one of the then regularly occuring matinees with the Backstabbers, which were a big part of our pre-baby life. Because I'd had a few beers and maybe a bourbon or three, I spent a lot of time on that dingy Sunday afternoon watching "doe" morph into different things. What I kept seeing was a small child in a hooded cape, with a red scarf around its neck. Steve thought it looked like a tied up bag or sack. It never occurred to me that it was a dress, and I never thought about the title, or it in conjunction with the other pictures, because I'd only focused on how a simple line drawing could appear to be so many different things. I couldn't shut up about it, perhaps due to the Cameron's Auburn Ale. I received it for Christmas, and it so happened to be the Christmas just before we decided to pull the goalie and see if we'd have a baby.
For the following Valentine's day, which was is also an anniversary for us (the first kiss after a few dates one), I received the other two components. Now it made sense, but I still like "doe" best and I still see that child:
The funny thing is, when we first hung it, I put "buck" and "doe" on the wall near my side of the bed, and "faun" hanging on the chimney on Steve's side. When I got pregnant, I kept "doe" and "faun" on my side, and "buck" on Steve's. Now they're back to the original positions.
Other things I love? I have a very few pieces of jewellery that make me feel great when I'm wearing them. My wedding band is a treasure, and I feel joy every time I look at it. I love my home and family, and have filled it full of objects that I'd miss if they were gone. But when I look at the bits of photography and art that others have put so much of themselves into, I am inspired to think that one day I may leave behind a creation of my own that might give some frisson of joy to someone when they behold it.
In case I don't, I've helped to create a beautiful human being who might do so in my stead.
Seen at Beanie Baby, who got it from Mystery Mommy.
Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
I don't care much for the fifth sentence, and don't like the "or closest to" part of this challenge, because that's wishy-washy. So here's the link. I like the whole post.
For the record, this is from way back when - when I just posted because I had a sleeping baby on my lap that felt like a warm blanket I never wanted to crawl out from under and thankfully there was the whole world on a screen in front of me. It's not much different now, except that instead of resounding echoes, I hear little voices and see tiny figures waving back, and my back hurts more.
Here is a picture that I love from within a day or two of that post (the one I have from that day exactly has her playing with Beauty's chewed-up rubber rat and an empty beer box. I don't really want to share that one, because we look trashy enough most of the time.):
It makes my heart ooze into a puddle of something not unlike all the melted chocolate chips in a freshly baked perfectly crispy yet chewy cookie that's the size of Texas.
There's one. And because I couldn't resist, and thought about this one all night:
From Postcards From The Mothership, via A Peek Inside The Fishbowl (Nancy over at Blog Pourri did a great job with this one too!):
"about how we all have those little somethings in our houses that we love - things that give you a little ping of joy when you look at them."
Now, I've shown a few of my weird things that I find likeable before here:
But, hidden amongst the bizarre and twisted objects are the things people might think are really nice if they were in a grown-up's house with real furniture and neutral paint colours:
This is a bowl/vase thingy I've had for a dozen or more years. I love Sascha Brastoff's pottery, and this is a fine piece. It's as thin as porcelain, a complex shape to throw, and the glaze is lovely. It's a night time city scene, and I sometimes like to imagine that it is a world within a world, and that I might get to visit it some day. I would like more of his pieces, but I don’t really need to own them at this time. This piece is very satisfying.
And this tryptic by Kris Knight is something I'm very fond of. It's in our bedroom, although the three paintings are not hung together. They are wonderful things to lay eyes on as the last things I see at night or the first things I see in the morning. That is, when there isn't a sweaty-headed toddler curled into my side.
The paintings were hanging at the Cameron. I saw them during one of the then regularly occuring matinees with the Backstabbers, which were a big part of our pre-baby life. Because I'd had a few beers and maybe a bourbon or three, I spent a lot of time on that dingy Sunday afternoon watching "doe" morph into different things. What I kept seeing was a small child in a hooded cape, with a red scarf around its neck. Steve thought it looked like a tied up bag or sack. It never occurred to me that it was a dress, and I never thought about the title, or it in conjunction with the other pictures, because I'd only focused on how a simple line drawing could appear to be so many different things. I couldn't shut up about it, perhaps due to the Cameron's Auburn Ale. I received it for Christmas, and it so happened to be the Christmas just before we decided to pull the goalie and see if we'd have a baby.
For the following Valentine's day, which was is also an anniversary for us (the first kiss after a few dates one), I received the other two components. Now it made sense, but I still like "doe" best and I still see that child:
The funny thing is, when we first hung it, I put "buck" and "doe" on the wall near my side of the bed, and "faun" hanging on the chimney on Steve's side. When I got pregnant, I kept "doe" and "faun" on my side, and "buck" on Steve's. Now they're back to the original positions.
Other things I love? I have a very few pieces of jewellery that make me feel great when I'm wearing them. My wedding band is a treasure, and I feel joy every time I look at it. I love my home and family, and have filled it full of objects that I'd miss if they were gone. But when I look at the bits of photography and art that others have put so much of themselves into, I am inspired to think that one day I may leave behind a creation of my own that might give some frisson of joy to someone when they behold it.
In case I don't, I've helped to create a beautiful human being who might do so in my stead.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Newsflash...
It Turns Out There Was A Big Post In Me After All.
How am I expected to post when all I do is diaper inanimate objects around here? Diaper Fest 2005 continues...
Oh, there have been other diapering incidents, but really, that's enough bandwidth. What else is happening Chez Good?
When Steve and I each have some one-on-one time with Josie, it seems we do variations on a theme. On Saturday mornings, while I make coffee and breakfast, Steve takes Josie to get the papers and experience nature in the city. They chase pigeons in the park and come home with pockets full of cracker crumbs that get gummy in the laundry. (Have you ever seen a raisin that's gone through the wash? They're like slugs!):
On Tuesdays, she and I go to Riverdale Farm and experience nature, albeit in a more refined setting, and in cuter outfits; and we bring home beautiful food with which to nurture our bodies and senses:
What we have here is yet another illustration of how Daddies parent differently than Mommies do. And if you need one more example, here it is:
See that? The spider? I don't love our new porch-dwelling friend. Once when I was working at a drycleaning plant, a spider fell from the ceiling into my hair and I squished it when I tried to brush it off. Then I somehow got the idea that some bugs release their eggs when they die, and that I'd have a nest of baby spiders in my hair if I didn't wash it out well enough - which is impossible when you have a tiny bathroom sink to do it in and there are customers waiting. I still get the heebies about bugs in my hair. For the record, the proper name for the feeling of having bugs crawl all over you is formication (yes, it does sound like the word that means something much nicer!) - and a little Midol can help it when you don't really need super strong drugs to control minor obsessive tendencies. I try to get over it, I do, for Josie's sake. But then my problem is that I can decide not to touch bugs, but they don't always have the same inclinations. So, when I pass by the spider with Josephine, I keep my distance and point to it and describe it and we sing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and I tell Josephine about how we'll read Charlotte's Web one day. When Steve and Josie are near the web, he'll grab an ant or a moth, stun it, throw it in the web and they'll watch the spider run over and wrap the bug in its silk and Steve will describe how the spider will sometimes just paralyze its prey to eat later. See? Different.
At any rate, Josephine is being so DARN CUTE these days that I just can't stand it. Aside from the nurturing diapering behaviour, there's the chattiness, the love of nooks and crannies, the reading of booksh (independently!), and the PLEASES - all the time with the pleases!
Here - see?
Sitting in a corner with a soon-to-be-diapered bear. She climbs up on this step stool and reads booksh here and talks to herself. I was like that as a kid too. I wish I had more time to just enjoy the cuteness, but I am being run off my feet, there is just so much to do. We bought a new (vintage) fridge that needs cleaning, we're finishing the porch, we're entertaining next weekend, we're both working a lot, and I have to do boring grown-up stuff like find new car insurance and deal with some other paperwork - and the fact that I still haven't picked up Josephine's birth certificate. OOPS.
The weather is perfect, the days are getting shorter, we're all healthy and Steve and I can't believe how time is flying by. So I'm going to relieve myself of the burden I put upon myself regarding the long post about how we didn't wean Josephine by attempting brevity. (Hahahahaha!) (And I'm tired of linking and she just woke up so I've got just finish this.)
What happened is that she had her eighteen month shots the week before, and she came down with a fever on the Sunday that was supposed to be cold turkey day. DAMN. How could I do that to us under those circumstances?
But what happened as well, was that we realized we needed a family re-vamp. I've posted before about how much we love to do weekend road-trips out to the Blossoms Motel in Canandaigua. We realized that's not working for us any more. They're not as fun. Surprisingly, it's not because of Josephine. We love the drive, the time together, and the fun things like getting some nice snacks and having late-night picnics.
The other parts of the trip we still adore as well - the Estate sales were awesome that weekend. Look at the great booksh we bought for Josephine:
And I found what was one of my favourite childhood toys. It needs a few more things, like the horse, cow, dog, and farmer, but they're available. It's the 1967 version that I remember, and I'm so glad that she loves this!
But we don't need to go quite so far to have this kind of fun. The East Avon Flea Market that we usually enjoy hasn't been so great the last two trips. Three of the antique stores that we frequented along Route 5 have changed. Two really suck now because the contents have changed dramatically, and one I realized I've NEVER purchased anything from. That's a long way to go just to look at a booth in a co-op that has some great primitive things that I can't afford. We don't stop for a beer and a snack in neat towns like LeRoy any longer, because Josephine's usually sleeping and we just want to make our destination. In fact, we didn't even try to hit more than a few Estate sales on that trip because we realized it would be more fun to take Josie to the Buffalo Zoo. Which, by the way, was awful for me because it is such a small, old zoo that the animals are in dismal settings and I cried. But I saw the funkiest acorn ever:
It's from the Bur Oak, and it looks like an acorn with an afro! Josephine got to run around unfettered in the fresh air, and we loved watching her see and recognize animals that were previously only in books. That was great, even though we know she won't remember the visit. At one of the Estate sales I bought a nice old print of the Buffalo Zoo to frame for her room one day (too big to scan and I don't feel like trying to take a picture of it. My, by my shots are all artsy/blurry these days!).
What did we learn from it that was a call for a big post? That the myriad changes in ourselves and in the places we traveled to mean that we need to create new memories - not just revisit old ones. That we need to make a lot of little changes, not just a few big ones. None of those changes that have occurred or that need to be made can be attributed to any one thing or person - there have been a series of minute shifts and a flurry of little alterations that are almost undetectable - but they have changed us all perceptibly.
Like a spider sitting on its web, trying to decipher the vibrations of a stunned ant that Josephine's Daddy flicked at it and knowing that something's up - it's not necessarily bad or good, just different - I need to use my spidey sense to determine what's happening in our family.
And so we didn't wean not just because Josephine was feeling punky - we didn't wean because the family just needs a bunch of minor adjustments and not a complete change. And I didn't really need to do a big post about it, but I guess I just did.
Oh, there have been other diapering incidents, but really, that's enough bandwidth. What else is happening Chez Good?
When Steve and I each have some one-on-one time with Josie, it seems we do variations on a theme. On Saturday mornings, while I make coffee and breakfast, Steve takes Josie to get the papers and experience nature in the city. They chase pigeons in the park and come home with pockets full of cracker crumbs that get gummy in the laundry. (Have you ever seen a raisin that's gone through the wash? They're like slugs!):
On Tuesdays, she and I go to Riverdale Farm and experience nature, albeit in a more refined setting, and in cuter outfits; and we bring home beautiful food with which to nurture our bodies and senses:
What we have here is yet another illustration of how Daddies parent differently than Mommies do. And if you need one more example, here it is:
See that? The spider? I don't love our new porch-dwelling friend. Once when I was working at a drycleaning plant, a spider fell from the ceiling into my hair and I squished it when I tried to brush it off. Then I somehow got the idea that some bugs release their eggs when they die, and that I'd have a nest of baby spiders in my hair if I didn't wash it out well enough - which is impossible when you have a tiny bathroom sink to do it in and there are customers waiting. I still get the heebies about bugs in my hair. For the record, the proper name for the feeling of having bugs crawl all over you is formication (yes, it does sound like the word that means something much nicer!) - and a little Midol can help it when you don't really need super strong drugs to control minor obsessive tendencies. I try to get over it, I do, for Josie's sake. But then my problem is that I can decide not to touch bugs, but they don't always have the same inclinations. So, when I pass by the spider with Josephine, I keep my distance and point to it and describe it and we sing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and I tell Josephine about how we'll read Charlotte's Web one day. When Steve and Josie are near the web, he'll grab an ant or a moth, stun it, throw it in the web and they'll watch the spider run over and wrap the bug in its silk and Steve will describe how the spider will sometimes just paralyze its prey to eat later. See? Different.
At any rate, Josephine is being so DARN CUTE these days that I just can't stand it. Aside from the nurturing diapering behaviour, there's the chattiness, the love of nooks and crannies, the reading of booksh (independently!), and the PLEASES - all the time with the pleases!
Here - see?
Sitting in a corner with a soon-to-be-diapered bear. She climbs up on this step stool and reads booksh here and talks to herself. I was like that as a kid too. I wish I had more time to just enjoy the cuteness, but I am being run off my feet, there is just so much to do. We bought a new (vintage) fridge that needs cleaning, we're finishing the porch, we're entertaining next weekend, we're both working a lot, and I have to do boring grown-up stuff like find new car insurance and deal with some other paperwork - and the fact that I still haven't picked up Josephine's birth certificate. OOPS.
The weather is perfect, the days are getting shorter, we're all healthy and Steve and I can't believe how time is flying by. So I'm going to relieve myself of the burden I put upon myself regarding the long post about how we didn't wean Josephine by attempting brevity. (Hahahahaha!) (And I'm tired of linking and she just woke up so I've got just finish this.)
What happened is that she had her eighteen month shots the week before, and she came down with a fever on the Sunday that was supposed to be cold turkey day. DAMN. How could I do that to us under those circumstances?
But what happened as well, was that we realized we needed a family re-vamp. I've posted before about how much we love to do weekend road-trips out to the Blossoms Motel in Canandaigua. We realized that's not working for us any more. They're not as fun. Surprisingly, it's not because of Josephine. We love the drive, the time together, and the fun things like getting some nice snacks and having late-night picnics.
The other parts of the trip we still adore as well - the Estate sales were awesome that weekend. Look at the great booksh we bought for Josephine:
And I found what was one of my favourite childhood toys. It needs a few more things, like the horse, cow, dog, and farmer, but they're available. It's the 1967 version that I remember, and I'm so glad that she loves this!
But we don't need to go quite so far to have this kind of fun. The East Avon Flea Market that we usually enjoy hasn't been so great the last two trips. Three of the antique stores that we frequented along Route 5 have changed. Two really suck now because the contents have changed dramatically, and one I realized I've NEVER purchased anything from. That's a long way to go just to look at a booth in a co-op that has some great primitive things that I can't afford. We don't stop for a beer and a snack in neat towns like LeRoy any longer, because Josephine's usually sleeping and we just want to make our destination. In fact, we didn't even try to hit more than a few Estate sales on that trip because we realized it would be more fun to take Josie to the Buffalo Zoo. Which, by the way, was awful for me because it is such a small, old zoo that the animals are in dismal settings and I cried. But I saw the funkiest acorn ever:
It's from the Bur Oak, and it looks like an acorn with an afro! Josephine got to run around unfettered in the fresh air, and we loved watching her see and recognize animals that were previously only in books. That was great, even though we know she won't remember the visit. At one of the Estate sales I bought a nice old print of the Buffalo Zoo to frame for her room one day (too big to scan and I don't feel like trying to take a picture of it. My, by my shots are all artsy/blurry these days!).
What did we learn from it that was a call for a big post? That the myriad changes in ourselves and in the places we traveled to mean that we need to create new memories - not just revisit old ones. That we need to make a lot of little changes, not just a few big ones. None of those changes that have occurred or that need to be made can be attributed to any one thing or person - there have been a series of minute shifts and a flurry of little alterations that are almost undetectable - but they have changed us all perceptibly.
Like a spider sitting on its web, trying to decipher the vibrations of a stunned ant that Josephine's Daddy flicked at it and knowing that something's up - it's not necessarily bad or good, just different - I need to use my spidey sense to determine what's happening in our family.
And so we didn't wean not just because Josephine was feeling punky - we didn't wean because the family just needs a bunch of minor adjustments and not a complete change. And I didn't really need to do a big post about it, but I guess I just did.
Friday, September 16, 2005
D to the I to the A to the P to the ERS.
Just a warning. If you come to our house these days, you might get diapered.
Steve, who really is the funny one around here, likens it to the Mason Hornet episode of Gumby and Pokey. I laughed at this once he explained it to me, because sometimes that four year age gap doesn't make a difference and sometimes it does. My grasp of obscure cultural reference points has butterfingers compared to his.
Josephine has been taking many of her stuffed animals to her diaper change bin, getting down a changing pad and a diaper, and trying very hard to put them in a diaper herself before asking for help. So we've been obliging, because it's pretty darn cute.
Poor "Ditty":
Dinosaur was feeling pretty sassy in his diaper (damn, the threshold to the mudroom looks bad in this picture - but I'm just documenting this, not staging it you know!):
Until his Dinosaur friends caught him pimpin' his Huggies:
(Kids can be so mean!)
Then, when we came home from work yesterday, we found that Josephine had enlisted Grandma Joan (who spends time with Josie on Thursdays so I can get stuff done at the store - or eat Rolo ice cream bars and read the Halloween issue of Country Living, whatever) to help diaper her friend the moose.
Oh, Schmelvin:
It is only a matter of time before we'll be attempting to diaper Beauty for our daughter's amusement. She has already offered to help me to put a diaper on, but I've declined for the present. And depending on my mood, if someone were to come for a visit and Josephine should want to diaper them, I might comply, for her amusement and mine. The humour around here is rather base these days you know.
Steve, who really is the funny one around here, likens it to the Mason Hornet episode of Gumby and Pokey. I laughed at this once he explained it to me, because sometimes that four year age gap doesn't make a difference and sometimes it does. My grasp of obscure cultural reference points has butterfingers compared to his.
Josephine has been taking many of her stuffed animals to her diaper change bin, getting down a changing pad and a diaper, and trying very hard to put them in a diaper herself before asking for help. So we've been obliging, because it's pretty darn cute.
Poor "Ditty":
Dinosaur was feeling pretty sassy in his diaper (damn, the threshold to the mudroom looks bad in this picture - but I'm just documenting this, not staging it you know!):
Until his Dinosaur friends caught him pimpin' his Huggies:
(Kids can be so mean!)
Then, when we came home from work yesterday, we found that Josephine had enlisted Grandma Joan (who spends time with Josie on Thursdays so I can get stuff done at the store - or eat Rolo ice cream bars and read the Halloween issue of Country Living, whatever) to help diaper her friend the moose.
Oh, Schmelvin:
It is only a matter of time before we'll be attempting to diaper Beauty for our daughter's amusement. She has already offered to help me to put a diaper on, but I've declined for the present. And depending on my mood, if someone were to come for a visit and Josephine should want to diaper them, I might comply, for her amusement and mine. The humour around here is rather base these days you know.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Not For The Squeamish.
It was a rainy afternoon here in Toronto, which kept people off the streets and out of the tiny little store Josephine and I work at three days each week. I love it when that happens. We puttered and dusted and read books, and finally, she napped on my lap. And Lo! And Behold! As her head tipped back, and I was gazing lovingly at her peaceful countenance, I saw them...
Two perfect boogers. They were ripe for picking - and clearly visible in the centre of each nostril, much in the way of how you'd hold a blade of grass between your thumbs to make it whistle. In fact, her exhalations HAD been a bit noisy earlier. But what to do? She was sleeping peacefully!
They were greenies. Dark, flat, semi-hard with lighter edges. Like flattened sunflower seeds, but moist. And they barely moved as she slept, letting me know I'd have to wrestle them out. Or, wait for her bath and hope the nightly splashing and washing would dislodge them later. Naaah.
Oh, if I had only a pair of tweezers - I could pluck them out a la Operation! But no - the desk at the store did not contain tweezers. I examined many many objects, and weighed the options - a pen, a roach clip, a bent paper clip, a safety pin, my fingers. Hmmm. What to do, what to do. How to explain any "accidents" to the emergency room personnel...
Of course, since she is a toddler and has the accompanying tiny nostrils, there was no way I could stuff a finger in there, not even a pinky, for a good old sideswipe. A twist of Kleenex was weak and useless. The foil wrapper from my gum couldn't detach them enough. Checked the diaper bag. No Q-Tips. No Saline, as if she'd let me use it. They were too dry for the bulby thingy, which I didn't have anyway, and who could wait one more minute when she was sound asleep and they were RIGHT THERE. The agony. The desire to just use all the tape on the desk and a few staples to restrain her in case she woke and just go for it was mounting. She gave a tantalizing nose whistle with lefty that said to me "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaaah!"
So I gently nudged one nostril shut. She stirred, but didn't wake. I did it again, to see if it would move the nose goblin at all - and it did. A few more, and I'd wiggled it forward to where I could almost hook it out - but no. It was still attached at the top part. I persevered. She slept on. Within about ten minutes, with great concentration and utterly dedicated to the cause, I'd worked it free. Then, patiently, intently and with great caution, the other one.
There they were, two perfect nostril shaped snots. And still she slept! I silently rejoiced. There was me, in the tiny funky shop with the world streaming by, alone in my triumph. And then me, on the phone to tell Steve all about it (he called to say he was leaving work and I told him - I would not make a separate call, despite what this post might indicate). Welcome to my day!
Hey, I know mucuous is yucky. I wouldn't pick just anyone's nose. When have I ever, in thirty-six years, had such an opportunity? I have come to know that the output of your own child is not as gross as if it came from another human. Even if that another human works an incredible amount of time to provide for you and you love him with all your heart, he still would not let you perform this loving grooming service. I will not confess to excessive picking of my own, but of course we all have had to, and sometimes it can be pretty interesting! But my goodness - it was ever so much more difficult than picking my own nose, whether she was awake or asleep. And I know I wasted an insane amount of time doing that and then again by writing this. And I know that this shouldn't fall under the sunshine and roses column when ticking off the pros and cons of motherhood, but it made for a pretty good day!
What I'm saying is that getting those two boogers out of her nose gave me a bigger feeling of satisfaction than selling an expensive piece of jewellery ever did. And I'm savouring it, because I may not get such a frisson again for quite a while.
And, just because I have the sense of humour normally reserved for eight year old boys, here they are:
Two perfect boogers. They were ripe for picking - and clearly visible in the centre of each nostril, much in the way of how you'd hold a blade of grass between your thumbs to make it whistle. In fact, her exhalations HAD been a bit noisy earlier. But what to do? She was sleeping peacefully!
They were greenies. Dark, flat, semi-hard with lighter edges. Like flattened sunflower seeds, but moist. And they barely moved as she slept, letting me know I'd have to wrestle them out. Or, wait for her bath and hope the nightly splashing and washing would dislodge them later. Naaah.
Oh, if I had only a pair of tweezers - I could pluck them out a la Operation! But no - the desk at the store did not contain tweezers. I examined many many objects, and weighed the options - a pen, a roach clip, a bent paper clip, a safety pin, my fingers. Hmmm. What to do, what to do. How to explain any "accidents" to the emergency room personnel...
Of course, since she is a toddler and has the accompanying tiny nostrils, there was no way I could stuff a finger in there, not even a pinky, for a good old sideswipe. A twist of Kleenex was weak and useless. The foil wrapper from my gum couldn't detach them enough. Checked the diaper bag. No Q-Tips. No Saline, as if she'd let me use it. They were too dry for the bulby thingy, which I didn't have anyway, and who could wait one more minute when she was sound asleep and they were RIGHT THERE. The agony. The desire to just use all the tape on the desk and a few staples to restrain her in case she woke and just go for it was mounting. She gave a tantalizing nose whistle with lefty that said to me "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaaah!"
So I gently nudged one nostril shut. She stirred, but didn't wake. I did it again, to see if it would move the nose goblin at all - and it did. A few more, and I'd wiggled it forward to where I could almost hook it out - but no. It was still attached at the top part. I persevered. She slept on. Within about ten minutes, with great concentration and utterly dedicated to the cause, I'd worked it free. Then, patiently, intently and with great caution, the other one.
There they were, two perfect nostril shaped snots. And still she slept! I silently rejoiced. There was me, in the tiny funky shop with the world streaming by, alone in my triumph. And then me, on the phone to tell Steve all about it (he called to say he was leaving work and I told him - I would not make a separate call, despite what this post might indicate). Welcome to my day!
Hey, I know mucuous is yucky. I wouldn't pick just anyone's nose. When have I ever, in thirty-six years, had such an opportunity? I have come to know that the output of your own child is not as gross as if it came from another human. Even if that another human works an incredible amount of time to provide for you and you love him with all your heart, he still would not let you perform this loving grooming service. I will not confess to excessive picking of my own, but of course we all have had to, and sometimes it can be pretty interesting! But my goodness - it was ever so much more difficult than picking my own nose, whether she was awake or asleep. And I know I wasted an insane amount of time doing that and then again by writing this. And I know that this shouldn't fall under the sunshine and roses column when ticking off the pros and cons of motherhood, but it made for a pretty good day!
What I'm saying is that getting those two boogers out of her nose gave me a bigger feeling of satisfaction than selling an expensive piece of jewellery ever did. And I'm savouring it, because I may not get such a frisson again for quite a while.
And, just because I have the sense of humour normally reserved for eight year old boys, here they are:
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
I mentioned in my Blogger profile that I like to go to sleep each night with a clear conscience. Would you believe that I STILL feel guilty that I pooped on the Book Meme party? So here's the quick and dirty version. These are the two shelves of books that are in the current reading rotation upstairs, although some tomes are dustier than others. Currently, Martha Stewart Kids is on my nightstand and the current Oxford American music issue is on Steve's (and I'm very politely and patiently waiting for him to finish reading it before I do, because he has a great big love for music writing). More music biographies, vintage crime and mystery writers and assorted Willa Cathers and old Harry Potters in two full bookcases in the basement, along with coffee table books and old jewellery and antique reference books in boxes somewhere. Will that do?
Altogether, these books probably qualify for a Self-Portrait Tuesday entry. But this one is better:
When I'm not looking at the screen, this is what I see.
Boy, I'll do anything to put off the big post won't I?
Altogether, these books probably qualify for a Self-Portrait Tuesday entry. But this one is better:
When I'm not looking at the screen, this is what I see.
Boy, I'll do anything to put off the big post won't I?
Monday, September 12, 2005
My Cooler is Cooler Than Your Cooler.
Allergies are getting me down, and it seems that the crusty-nosed toddler is suffering from them too. We have been working (I have a little side job, and you would laugh your bums off if you knew what it was!), enjoying the last of the good weather, and are continuing to declutter in order to make room for stuff like this:
Oh, there have been a few opportunities to post. But, you see, Steve had a couple of evening obligations on Friday and Saturday, and Josephine went to bed by eight-thirty most nights, and well, when faced with the choice of spending hours writing some self-absorbed drivel and all the linking, linking and linking, or watching this with some of my best friends - well, I ask you: What would you have chosen?
PS -
Of course I READ some blogs too. But blogging and giving oneself a pedicure do not combine as well as trashy movies, the heady scents of Sally Hansen Kwik Off and liquor, and the taste of cookies. And quite honestly, none of you are Dermot Mulroney. (Are you?)
Oh, there have been a few opportunities to post. But, you see, Steve had a couple of evening obligations on Friday and Saturday, and Josephine went to bed by eight-thirty most nights, and well, when faced with the choice of spending hours writing some self-absorbed drivel and all the linking, linking and linking, or watching this with some of my best friends - well, I ask you: What would you have chosen?
PS -
Of course I READ some blogs too. But blogging and giving oneself a pedicure do not combine as well as trashy movies, the heady scents of Sally Hansen Kwik Off and liquor, and the taste of cookies. And quite honestly, none of you are Dermot Mulroney. (Are you?)
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
We're Back, But I'm Not All There.
We're back from our little road trip, and brought a few souvenirs with us - new sneakers for the whole famn damily, a groovy cooler, lots of vintage booksh, and a fever for Josephine and a head cold for me. The post that's forming in my hot, stuffy, sore head is about the end of an era for us. It's awfully long and deep, and I've been mining it for what's compelling but keep coming up empty handed.
Truthfully, the getaway was a bit on the unsuccessful side in some ways - yet a revelation in others. Perhaps you'd have to have been there - perhaps I can make that happen in my next post.
Later.
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