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.

Must be time for a drink

A wonderful friend of mine gave me a bottle of champagne to celebrate the completion of a large glass project; which had been resting quietly at my desk awaiting the, as of yet, still unfinished business of final payment for aforementioned project. I started to feel a little sorry for the lonely bottle of bubbly who was, no doubt, wondering, 'Hey, is THIS my destiny to be pushed further and further back against the spines of design books and outdated home interior magazines week after week until I'm completely forgotten and ultimately poured down the drain into the city sewer after an undetermined new year's eve soiree after all of the other booze is consumed and I'm looking pretty good to a party guest who'd already consumed 3 gin and tonics, 4 draft beers and a shot of Cuervo?'

Well, since I had a pivotal business meeting with a local, very large and well-known non-profit agency at 3:00, it seemed the perfect time to open the bottle 30 minutes before said meeting and sip from crystal glasses with a couple of close friends.

A lovely day, really.
Until I got home and slammed my husband's head with the back of my Jeep's gate while loading the dog for a birthday hike in the park which sent him tumbling into the mulch holding his head in agony.
Totally unrelated to the midday drink fest. Honest.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a pint of chocolate birthday ice cream to consume.

Five things I'm all about on this eve of my 36th birthday

1. Gratitude. In general, just trying to be more gracious for the wonderful things I have under my wing (family, amazing daughter, comfortable home, really fast laptop, 'Thank you, Jesus.' See post below).
2. Harping on this horrid winter weather and glad to have this season behind me. Hello sunshine, already. We had one afternoon of 50 degree weather last week and I picked up all of the winter's dog poo (I know, it's horrible and I'm an awful person for waiting so long to clean it up; get over it) and I raked out the front beds and obsessively inspected the budding tulips and daffodils and attempted to reassure them that it WILL eventually get warm enough to bust out of the earth in all of their spring glory.
3. Creative outlets. I have many and they are hugely enriching. One example is my mom's group that is surprisingly successful and important to many local parents. I'm honored to be the organizer (see point number one above).
4. My daughter using words as they are intended. She woke me up at 5 am this morning by standing in her crib and saying, 'Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama.' Not cute at all. Holy cow.
5. Joy. I like this word. It's fitting of it's meaning and reminds me that it is indeed attainable on an even daily basis.

Salvation

I've been working on one particular glass project for, oh, I don't know, about 1 1/2 YEARS; like, it was started while I was still pairing maternity pants with tight tank tops and cardigan sweaters that were meant for 14-year-old girls and like before I had so many stitches in my hoo-ha that my doctor wouldn't even tell me the exact number and like before I had to wear a leg bag with a cathether for 3 weeks post-birth because my bladder stopped working as it was mad at me for putting it through such selfish grief with the whole childbirth thing (it has since forgiven me, by the way). This extended schedule is by no fault of my own, per se; let's just say that there were many changes and adjustments to both the design and also the size of the window and all of this had to be agreed upon by many people (with many opinions, actually) on a church board of elders.
The overall process was most certainly a lesson in patience and I'll just say that I'm very pleased that it is finally completed (thank you, Cathy!). It truly is lovely and I'm certain that it is exactly what they had in mind when I was approached in June of 2006 about constructing a large window of The Ascension for their church; and my personal treat for finishing this project will be the purchase of a laptop because I'm very much looking forward to saying that Jesus bought me a computer.

Not half as useful as a cat

My dog is a shitty mouser.
I know this because I stepped into the kitchen yesterday morning to make a small bowl of scrambled eggs for Rosemary, watched a black mouse lumber across the wood floor with a plate of breakfast in it's hands, turn to me and request a spot of tea. Neither scared nor particularly thin, actually.

Which leads me to believe that the mounds of cheese fish and popcorn that have fallen out of the 'no-spill' bowls that we've been using for nighttime snack are being eaten by both the dog and the mouse. Probably even together under the table after we've all gone off to sleep where they both meet and share their bounty of cherry granola bars and bits of Jennie-o turkey franks and discuss how more of the rodent's family who are waiting at the back door can get in on this spectacular arrangement; with Natasha dabbing the mouse's mouth with small bits of the endless stream of kleenex that inevitably pile up behind the bathroom trash.

I will not have any part of the, shall we say, relocation of this particular mouse, as my husband is currently planning because it's becoming weirdly captivating watching this creature slink along the baseboards in the kitchen and now, boldly, the dining room. However, I may need to tidy up the high chair before dinner this evening or Rosemary may be sharing her pizza with our newest, and least picky, tenant.