Wondering if I could cover every wall of my home with this stuff without having to explain it to my husband

Vintage wallpaper is so cool.

I remember my great grandmother having the best cabbage rose pattern in the bedrooms of her little, modest Michigan lake cottage. I loved to lie in the big queen bed with wet hair while smelling of sand and sun and looking for the repeated flowers.

from Secondhand Rose

Scent of mothballs not included.

Future head of mechanical engineering

So you know those clippy elastic things that keep mittens attached to coats? Seems my child has an aversion to stuff she cannot toss to the ground. I purchased a pink pair of them last night and victoriously ratcheted them to her winter coat before we left the house this morning; all the while thinking, "There is no way in hell she will be able to open these. No way." Then in the car on the way to daycare I hear her precisely rip each one off from her purple-sleeved jacket and throw them slowly and deliberately to the floor.
I. Can. Not. Win.

Just browsing, thank you

I often type search words into Flickr and look at the pretty pictures from random accounts. I then say things to myself like, "Oooh, wow," and, "Oh, my goodness," which my daughter now repeats several times a day. It's a weird pastime that I enjoy when I'm waiting for a phone call, trying to ignore someone or, in today's instance, just had one too many caffeinated beverages.

This is a gorgeous lamp post that I'd like to find and stand under if I ever make it to Florence, Italy.

from Flickr account Curious Expeditions

Cats

A little late in posting this, but Halloween was wonderful. A few highlights:

glowsticks as bracelets, Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown (one of my absolute favorites), Hershey's bars, lions and their adorable tails, jack o' lanterns the old fashioned way, cooking pumpkin seeds while sipping hot, spiced cider, carriage rides through downtown with family, fall candles.

That sums it up nicely. Okay, now I'm ready for Spring.

All Hallow's Eve

I love Halloween.
Currently listening to Jill Tracy, drinking Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte, and mentally piecing together my costume for the night's festivities.
Be safe everyone.

Animal lover

This little girl loves her some animals. She talked about this pony for the rest of the afternoon and cried endlessly as we were leaving because we wouldn't spend another 4 dollars on a second ride.

She ran through the parking lot cursing our names and tried to hitch a ride from another visiting family from West Lafayette who were attempting to stuff their small son into his car seat as he was also spewing profanities to his parents about wanting to take another hayride and they were all, no way, mister, hayrides don't grow on trees, to which he smartly responded, but you know what does grown on trees? bad, mean parents, to which they quickly slid their minivan door closed and sped off down the dirt road.

I am liking this necklace and am considering an early holiday present to myself

It's got to be the change in the weather that's prompting me to want to wear something like this. It's feminine and quite kitschy. I love it lots.

from etsy seller lechic

Befitting of her middle name

We enjoyed a really great weekend which included a free children's movie (no thanks to the crabby, grumpy lady who wouldn't move her damn coat for us because she said that someone was sitting there. Um, unless you've got yourself an invisible friend in that fleece jacket there, sweetie, I didn't see anyone come sit in that last empty seat in the theater and my 2-year-old daughter spent every bit of 75 minutes squirming in my lap and grinding buttery popcorn kernels into my crotch, thanks to you), pumpkin spice lattes, a trip to the wind farm in Benton County (look it up, super cool) and many other fun autumnal activities. I'll be sure to remember these days as I'm cursing the cold weather in just a few short weeks.

My dwelling just might look a little like this if I lived in a fancy New York space without baskets of mermaid and animal plastic toys to trip over

I've always had a great appreciation for clever design and color; despite the fact that my own wardrobe is mostly the same 6 colors and none of them are actually all that bright, come to think of it. My chameleon-like tastes include lots of things which could include painfully modern, silly vintage, highly dramatic and heavy baroque; and I'm a Pisces, so it all depends on, you know, my mood.

I also spend oodles of time and brain power thinking about, sketching and looking at interesting shapes and style. This contemporary wall radiator (yes, that slip-n-slide banana-yellow thing on the wall) is a great example of an innovative mind. It kind of reminds me of that sketch on SNL with Maya Rudolph and Fred Armisen where they play a German couple who live in an all white apartment and have unrecognizable modern chairs and she wears a white 1/2 dress, 1/2 pantsuit, has a severely asymmetrical haircut and she and her husband (who wears a lavendar jumpsuit) cannot properly pronounce the very common names of her daughter's dates. Okay, yes, I do need a night out; thanks for asking.

from trendir

Change of pace

I camp with this wonderful bunch every year for a weekend at the Feast of the Hunter's Moon. We sing songs, play music, cook amazing campfire meals and catch up with everyone. I've been going to this event since the early 90s and I'm so happy that we're going to now start taking a yearly group photo like this. Can you spot me, Chris and Rosemary?

Reflection

Without going into too much sap and sadness and kleenex, yesterday marks the eighteenth, I hesitate to say, 'anniversary' of my taking a handful of pills to, um, chase the blues away.
I remember the room, smells, sounds (The Smiths, Strangeways, Goddamn awesome album, by the way) playing on the boom box on the dresser, my depressed state of mind and all of the stupidness of that afternoon's decision. After being rejected from the campus hospital ('Hey, we don't take suicide situations!'), an awkward stomach-pumping, hours of crying, inept hospital counseling, failing miserably at trying to explaining myself to my devastated mother, I never thought that I'd be talking about this on an open forum like this (I mean, this was before Al Gore invented the internet, for goodness sakes); but as I get older, I find that sharing your own difficult experiences makes you confront your own deficiencies, and maybe even help someone else feel less embarrassed by just coming out and saying, 'I've done dumb things, too; and I'm here for you if you need me.'

I have a friend who often says, 'It ain't all rainbows and unicorn farts.' That, my friends, is honest, eloquence defined.

Something for me to remember when I'm resisting the urge to bang my head into a bloody mess on the floor

My little sweetpea turns 2 next week. I'll post more later about her, um, delightful behavior as of late; but for now, I'll just repost this little reminder that someone recently shared with me.

The "Toddler's Creed" appeared in the syndicated weekly newspaper article "Families Today" by T. Berry Brazelton. It is a nice reminder of the stresses we feel with normal behavior of toddlers.

If I want it, it's mine.

If I give it to you and change my mind later, it's mine.

If I can take it away from you, it's mine.

If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.

If it's mine, it will never belong to anybody else, no matter what.

If we are building something together, all the pieces are mine.

If it looks just like mine, it is mine.

Lovely organization

I don't know if it's the picture I like or the actual concept of keeping delicate jewelry from becoming a vining mass of chains with cutesy, bright mismatched china pieces; but this speaks to me.

from martha stewart

Heading out first thing tomorrow to get this dog a chewy, messy rawhide bone

From having pacifiers and sippy cups energetically pushed into her face, to toddler offerings of toothbrushes and mermaid dolls piled on top of her back; Natasha endures countless moments of this sort of canine humiliation without complaint. Go out and get yourselves a dog just like this. She's great.

Although probably not for a Moose Lodge audience

I recently saw the band The Henhouse Prowlers for the second time and it just reinforces the fact that I adore this kind of music. They also sang a song about 'the first train robbery in Indiana' and also boast the alias name of Sexfist to ensure placement in punk/rock venues.
That, my friends, is brilliant.

Helping others

I heard about this story from a fun, little blog I frequently enjoy and I feel horribly for this family. Please visit here and here to help out and score some great stuff, too:

"Nie Nie Day on Thursday.
For those who haven't heard, my blogging friend Stephanie Nielson and her husband were in a terrible plane accident. They are in critical condition and Stephanie has third degree burns covering about 80% of her body. Recovery will be long and very expensive. To help raise funds, Design Mom has declared Thursday Nie Nie Day. Starting tomorrow all over the internet there will be auctions and things for sale--including here on Oh Happy Day. I've heard some whisperings of some of the things that will be auctioned and there is some seriously amazing stuff. Design Mom will post a comprehensive list of all the auctions going on.So tomorrow get your pocketbooks ready...and please forward this information to all your friends."

If there is anything you can do to help, please consider doing so. The internet is a wonderful thing.

Added to the list of a musical chameleon's summer soundtrack

Pandora radio is quickly making my workday that much less productive. Is it overdramatic to say that I think it is life-changing? Yeah, I think so too. I realized just this morning that not only can I listen to my favorite workout stations on my phone (hooray for technology!) while at the gym (Stevie Wonder, Fugees, Erykah Badu, etc); but I can also yank out the cord for my xm radio dock at work and hurredly run back and forth in my heels and flared capris from my work bench and the connected iPhone to see which new artist is currently playing.
I now have a rapidly growing list propped on top of the amplifier and I'm jotting down artists that I'm loving.
Here are just a very few from my first two hours of messing around with workplace music:
Nouvelle Vague (with my love affair of most things French, how have I not heard of them until now?)
Lisa Ekdahl
Emiliana Torrini
Pink Martini
Catherine Feeny

What's on your playlist?

Matching dishes are for sissies

Here's that photo I was looking for last week and if I had my way, this is how the inside of my cabinets would look. My roommate, however, is all matchy-matchy about stuff and would certainly develop an awful nervous facial tic if exposed to this level of disorganization.

Working girl

I'll admit that maybe I have a wee obsession with photos of my daughter; but, seriously, are you stinkin' kiddin' me? She provides the best photo opportunities.

Five things I will not do again, at least for 10 or 11 days

1. Go to the gym, forget to put socks in my bag and decide to run anyway. My heels are a bloody mess. Literally. I mean, Target was like 1/4 mile away.
Upon realizing my amateur mistake, I sheepishly walked up to the counter at the gym with my head down and said, "Um, do you sell socks?'.
To which she replied, "Aren't you the girl who asked me last week if we sold deoderant?".
2. Go to the gym, forget my deoderant and decide to run anyway.
3. Be deep in conversation with my husband at the end of the day and grab the first small tube of 'toothpaste' out of the medicine cabinet that's available. Let's just say that he has a case of The Athlete's Foot and is messy about keeping his junk on his own shelf.
4. Assume that friends are forgiving.
5. Underestimate the vining ability of a backyard pumpkin patch.

What I've loved most about this summer

I've received countless dandelions, leaves, acorns, pieces of mulch, fancy flowers from neighbor's yards, clover and dead tree twigs from her this summer. It's the best.

And yet he's totally fine with his masculinity

I stuck this on the dash of my husband's vehicle one day while we were parking the car to go to the park with our daughter.
Upon seeing it, he immediately swiped it off it's happy little perch and said something like, 'No effin' way!'.
But, then, a transformation.
I can't be sure if the purple and pink glitter mane caught the sun in such a powerful way that he was overcome by the beauty and glow of the tangerine body, but he gently relented to keeping Rosemary's My Little Pony there for longer than about three minutes.
Now I am unable to resist the urge to keep that information to myself.

Things that bring me an unreasonable amount of pleasure

I've always liked old junk.

Not in a greasy, car mechanic kind of way. More of a musty, cedar chest kind of way.

Clothing, jewelry, scarves, shoes, hats, flatware, postcards, dishes, and on and on.

Here's a typical exchange between a man and said junk-admiring woman: "You know what, sweetie, I'd really rather have a $3 rhinestone necklace than this emerald ring." He's a darn lucky man, that one.

I'm just going to come out and say that there's absolutely no money exchange going on here for my review of the wonders of their shop; unless, of course, they want to unload that shoebox of sparkly jewelry behind the counter I eyeballed as I was paying my $7 for three necklaces. Just a thought.

These are some some neat things I saw at my pre-lunch jaunt to the current favorite antique/junk shop. I also had some wonderful photos of stacked pastel dishes and graphic tablecloths, but now cannot seem to find them. I'll just keep you waiting on that and will give you something else to sigh over for another day.

I never get tired of these. Ever.

I love these comics. So fun.

Fellow design aficianados

What do you think of the new site?

Does it make you go cross-eyed? like in a bad way?

Are you glad to have some additional color on the page? but would rather it not be in a fuzzy wallpaper kind of way?

Looking for some feedback here.

I love to hate you

One box of tissue in my truck.

Another on the back of the toilet.

One more on my desk at work.

Picked up another (with cute little blue shells, actually) tonight at the supermarket.

And I use toilet paper whenever convenient.

I have grass allergies, which is so completely cruel as I worship summer and her aromotic river matted hair. She is my goddess and I am merely her pollen slave.

Tonight I thought maybe I should see what the heck is going on in the air around here as my head is a bucket of clear, running snot; so I checked pollen.com and found out that central Indiana is at a 9.6 out of 10 this week. Which means I am doomed to sneezing gluey, sticky snot into my right shoulder for the next several days (not to mention stuffing a twisted-up kleenex into my left nostril to avoid excessive leakage into my pillow tonight. Totally hot).

If I weren't a current member of the 'Freaky Toddler Nursing Club', I'd just go get some dang Benadryl already. Cripe.

Suggestions, anyone?

Five things that are awesome

1. Listening to the new Erykah Badu album on the way to pick up my daughter (and always turning it down as I enter the parking lot as the bass is ridiculous).
2. Iced vanilla chai on a hot July afternoon (however the one I'm currently drinking is stupidly sweet. Damn you, new barista).
3. Rereading this book for my recent book club (good summer read, pretty emotionally draining, though. You've been warned).
4. The embarassed smile on Rosemary's face which is then followed by the squeal of 'MOMMY' when I walk in the door at daycare (this whole situation with her daycare is only newly awesome. It was very much not awesome 4 weeks ago).
5. Lightning bugs.

Thumbs down

You wanna know something that I wouldn't recommend?
Reheating quinoa (KEEN-wa) for a second meal.

Busy bee

Boy.
Have I ever been busy this summer.
I had wanted to post this picture as proof that my child does indeed do things that are totally against my wishes (she's not always the angel that you normally see, her little horn buds are just below skin level). She did this when I brought her in to work with me one day; as such we've since gotten her daycare schedule back in place.

File under: Future Fun Stuff

How fantastic would a fairy party be for a little girl?

I'll have to remember this idea from Cookie magazine.

Right up my alley.

Wonderful

I am so loving this woman right now.
Melody Gardot.
She's 23.
Do not ever ask to borrow it because it is never leaving the cd player.

I have to think that if I had any musical talent to speak of and could do more than play butchered versions of classical tunes on piano from sheet music, I'd very much like to sound exactly like this.

Wanted to buy: heavenly king-sized hotel bed

I'm newly home from our two day mini vacation (can you still smell the chlorine in my hair? Yep, that's right) to sunny Indianapolis, Indiana. We braved the unpredictable weather for the Indianapolis Jazz Fest yesterday; Medeski, Martin and Wood with John Scofield, mainly. The event in general was a colossal disappointment (see forthcoming dialogue for just one tiny example). However, today was spent happily at the Indianapolis Zoo and the butterfly exhibit in the adjoining White River Gardens. To say that traveling with a child under the age of 2 is challenging, is like saying that my red chiffon, thrift shop, senior prom dress that optimistically hangs in the back of my closet next to size 4 sundresses is only a little bit on the snug side.

'Look at the cute sippy cup I got Rosemary! It's got zoo animals on it and a flip top with a straw. You know how she loves that kind of thing.'

'That's kind of neat.'

'Yeah, lots of joy for just six bucks.'

'Six bucks?! That could have almost bought a beer at the Jazz Fest last night.'

'But instead I blew it on a vacation souvenir for our daughter. How awful of me.'

Fessin' up

This little photo was taken just days BEFORE my iPhone broke (had absolutely nothing to do with a 20-month-old girl dropping it 5 feet onto ceramic tile). Anywho, all I can say is that if you've ever owned an Apple product, you will know that their service is amazing; which made almost every bit of the $400 I embarassingly paid them 2 months ago for this product totally worth it.

Looking out for my own best interest

We visited the Children's Museum of Indianapolis yesterday with my friend Jenny and her son (who was born the day after my daughter, weird) and had a fabulous time (thanks so much for driving! with a/c!). That place is just so darned wonderful and I got loads of photos. One spot in particular is their large carousel on the top floor. My initial plan was to take some great shots of the horse's faces to frame and mat for Rosemary's room (easy art, that's what I like); however, when I downloaded them off of my camera, they were just a wee bit, oh, I don't know, creepier than I was expecting. Not really sure what I was thinking as I still cannot identify my own source of intense clown phobia. So I decided that maybe macro images of fiberglass horses above my child's bed probably isn't the way to go as it would undoubtedly resurface in a future therapy session when she's an adolescent and I certainly don't want to be living with that sort of guilt.

The difference between men and women

I showed this picture to my husband and the first thing he said was, "Oh, look. She got paint on the table."

Why we've been together for nearly 14 years

"So I'm guessing you probably want me to go the wedding with you this weekend, huh? I just don't get it. It's 2 1/2 hours away and I won't know ANYone there."

"It's the nice thing to do, and, yeah, I would like you to go with me. You don't get a prize for doing something nice for someone, you know."

"I need to call a guy friend and see what he says. This seems totally unfair."

"While you're on the phone, ask him where you can find a nice pair of pants to wear to the weddding."

You should have seen the other kid

This is what I had going on yesterday.

My daughter slipped on a doormat at our front door and fell face first into a doorstop at our home.

The ones without the rubber ends.

Like the variety without the fun, springy, boingy sound.

The OLD ones that you'd probably find in antique stores today because parents from the 30s were fed up with their kids thinking they were so much fun to play around.

Three stitches.

And that's all I really want to say about it because I was not home for any of it, which was probably a good thing.

Stacy London, I would totally hang out with you

Should I really be feeling this excited about having a weekend to myself? I chose to not attend random folk festival camping event 3 hours away with my husband and a few other mutual friends in favor of staying home for planned pajama pizza party with some moms and their kiddies and to slowly overdose on What Not To Wear on TLC.

Tomorrow? WHO KNOWS. I may fleatique shop with Rosemary all afternoon in search of those great old beady necklaces I like. The cheap ones, because I'm all about quantity with crap jewelry. That and a new thrift shop purse. And tweeze my eyebrows.

Oh, the anticipation.

Uh, so maybe I was wrong

I had planned on posting something yesterday about how excited, and insanely nervous, I was about converting Rosemary's crib into a toddler bed with the two short side rails. I came home from work a little early and decided that maybe it was time for the switch (seeing as she climbed INTO her bed the other day by stepping up onto her kitchen that was strategically placed against the side). I did all of the preparations and exaggerated the fun of the experience.

"Look at the BIG GIRL BED!"

"It is soooo NEAT!"

"Now you can get up whenever you want!" (Oops, probably shouldn't have mentioned that one).

We read books together in her 'new' bed, she did a little jumping on it and we talked about how, now that the side was kind of open, it was going to be different, and way more fun.

Two hours later we heard a significant thud in her room. I thought, hopefully, that my husband had fallen over the dog, again, as he sometimes does; but we found our daughter lying on her back, still wrapped in her Thomas the train blanket screaming, with Elmo next to her on the floor.

After deliberating for about 0.12 seconds (and watching the milk slowly make perfectly formed circles on my shirt from all the crying), the crib rail was back in her room and we fished out the tiny Allen wrench from the Ziploc bag with the other crib accessories.

On the bright side is that no one was hurt (Elmo also received proper medical care, if you were wondering) and that my husband now is trained in the proper installation of a bumper pad with 24 ties at 11:45 at night, should I ever require that service again.

Over coffee Friday morning

"It was so nice going out with you this weekend. Hanging out and having a few drinks together, just the two of us, made it feel like old times again."

"No, if it were like old times again we would have come home smashed and had sex on the kitchen table."

I wonder if Hallmark makes a card for this

I'm still feeling really crummy for not making the drive to see my mom on Mother's Day. She was in town for the two days prior and Rosemary was wiped out from her sleep pattern being unpredictable during the visit (not to mention staying up until about 11 pm during Friday's Gallery Walk festivities).

Man, I must really suck as a daughter and I'm feelin' pretty selfish right about now.

How brilliant is this guy?

I like this kind of stuff. Enjoy.
(ps-try to read all of them, as they get quite innovative)

Five great things I did this weekend

1. Continued to teach my daughter how to play 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' on the piano. With only her index finger.

2. Went to the park 4 times.

3. Met several new mom friends through my mom's group (see number 2, above).

4. Filled a large bag with coats and winter stuff to take to Goodwill; and started some spring cleaning (a little redecorating, moving stuff around and general fancying up) . I am so over cold weather.

5. Sat in the mulch in the backyard and showed Rosemary how to blow bubbles in the sunshine.

Ray of sunshine

A lovely (overexposed, yet interesting) bunch of flowers that I recently received. I like flowers, see.

From the mouth of Generation X

I do not need to see Iggy Pop without a shirt anymore. It makes me feel icky.

Many jokes about blue dresses were heard

Former president Bill Clinton was in town this week to campaign for his wife's presidential campaign and I insisted in joining the throng of Lafayette natives who chose to go check out all the fuss.
We all had initially wanted to attend together (well, I can't speak for Rosemary as I believe that she'll be voting for Ron Paul, and my husband really needed to be persuaded with dinner and potato chips, so I guess I'll just say that maybe I was the only one who wanted to be there). I can't really explain my intense need to be physically near the event as I'm still undecided in my own personal choice for candidacy; but, nonetheless, I noted it in the calendar and off we went.

We had driven to the destination over 2 hours before the actual event and noticed that there was a rather intimidating line winding through the neighborhood of the high school and we spoke at length, and lovingly, about our options.

"There's no way in hell I'm waiting in that line to see Hillary's cheating husband talk poo about how she should get the nomination. Not gonna happen."

"I'm going. Drop me off."

So almost before I could grab my pink mittens and Jimmy John's ham sandwich from the floor of the car, I was promptly left in the cold with nearly 3000 others in the street who were lined up single file in a very slow moving line as if we were going to be duped into falling over the peak of the hill at the other side.
Once I finally got into the school, I was told (along with about another 1000 people behind me) that we'd be directed into the overflow room (so there's going to be beer? was my initial thought, but I was soon to be underwhelmed). So I stood in the junior varsity gymnasium with loads of others and listened to his speech over, what sounded like, $59 speakers.
No video.
Just audio.
Like I could have watched from home and gotten a better experience; but then I wouldn't have had the joy of observing a lovely blonde woman sitting two rows in front of me continually touching up her lipstick, fluffing her moussed hair, and repeatedly adusting her crossed legs in her very short-skirted professional business suit and I could only wonder if she had aspirations of being a white house intern.

I'll have the glazed ham with a side of sarcasm

Easter appeared in it's usual Indiana way over the weekend and brought sleet, snow and general weather unpredictability to the annual egg hunt (my daughter found 17, thank you very much) and carrot cake overindulgence. I spent the holiday with family and friends; because nothing really says happy Easter like an outing to the local gay dance club and getting to bed at 5 am smelling of booze and cigarettes with visions of transsexuals dancing in your head.

Birthday tradition

Every year I'm asked what I'd like to do for my birthday and I spend weeks searching for an acceptable event that costs loads of money and is intended to bring happiness and celebration; and every year I end up wanting to just go outside and hike. This year was no different.

Horticulture Park in West Lafayette still gives me that feeling of beauty and awe after all my years of hiking her trails.