Poolside

I watched it. So what.

The Victoria-Beckham-Coming-to-America thing on tv last night, that is. I don't know if it's going to be a weekly show or not based on the spanking it took in the early show reviews.

Having not knowing really anything about her, besides being British and the ridiculousness of the Spice Girls, I was kind of charmed by the show. Not charmed in the way that I would be if, oh, I don't know, SIMON LE BON of DURAN DURAN walked up to me during one of my walks with the dog and baby to offer me a chilled Evian right out of his backpack and to say that he's been thinking of me ever since that letter I wrote to him in 1985 where I said that I was his biggest fan and that we should get together and have lunch sometime in London when he gets a break from his hectic tour schedule; but charmed, nonetheless.

Having done it three times, it's now a habit

For the last week or so I've been sliding into this bizarre routine of swinging by the drive-thru window of Wendy's for a small frosty (I hear it's made of soy, which I don't really believe), stopping the car somewhere (Friday it was in the parking lot of the state tax office) and sharing it with Rosemary.

Then upon entering the house proclaiming, "This is not frosty on her shirt", when it very clearly is just seems to crack me up.

Family camping 101

The family (dog, babe, husband) and I spent three days and two nights at Shades State Park recently with several friends and three campsites to accomodate the pack. This being Rosemary's first camping trip, we spent most of the week prior to the event researching family tents via the internet and local shops.
Our previous tent had been of a small two-person, lightweight backpacking variety, which was perfect for our 60 mile trek though the Washington mountains a few years back. Ready to purchase a new sleeping abode, we confidently strolled into Sportman's Warehouse (there isn't actually a reputable outdoor store here for hiking and the like, to my dismay; but, hey, if you want guns and reloading gear, they'll hook you up) the night before our trip and were ready to shell out the cash for a 4 person tent. After looking around the tent area for several minutes and a few too many uncomfortable glances at photos on the oversized bulletin board of local folk with bloody deer and turkeys in the back of their pick-ups, we noticed that they were out of the smaller sized tent and we were promptly offered the larger one. Some discussion ensued.

"A 6-person tent for two and a half people, and maybe the dog if she hasn't spent too much time in the creekbed smearing the decay of animal carcasses into her hide? Seems a little large to me."

"Come on, we'll grow into it. How big can it be?"

We purchased the tent; and after setting it up at the campsite and having to stand in the poison ivy ten feet away with tent poles that extended to an embarassing length, I'll still say that I very much prefer an air mattress with fitted sheets and room to stand over pumping and filtering a mud puddle for drinking water and pooping behind a tree.

My favorite season

I really can't get enough of summer.

Just when I think it's gonna last all year, I start seeing fall junk in the stores and flowers go on clearance. Shit.

Summer girl

Five things of moderate annoyance

1. Nearly every last one of my nighttime tank tops (especially that dark gray one that I loved so much and reluctantly tossed out onto a heaping trash can full of dirty diapers this morning) are devoid of elastic in the straps and are destined for the garbage. From breastfeeding a grab-happy infant. Enough said.

2. Losing so much hair post-pregnancy that I now have a head full of 3/4" hairs and it looks like I'll be sporting some sweet mini-bangs in no time.

3. The size of my left arm in comparison to the right.

4. Solicitors. I swear that I'm going to put a sign up at the shop that says 'No Solicitors. We will not buy your shit.' Everything from windchimes to radio ads. Seriously, if I wanted to buy your crap, I would have found a way to get it that didn't involve your interrupting my day to do it.

5. Shoes. Kind of in general, really. I will wear one pair of shoes all season (right now it's a pair of black high-heeled sandals), every season and until they fall apart. Well, spring is barely over and my shoes for this season are already breaking down. I get attached to one pair of shoes at a time. Really attached.

Lovely Mother's Day bouquet that smelled of rotten organicness by Wednesday

Mother is a verb

My first mother's day will be spent outside as much as I can stand; planting flowers, avoiding picking up dog poo, hiking in the woods, not weeding.

Stupid event of the week

Spending 7 bucks at Jimmy Johns on a to-go lunch (Vito sandwich, large diet, bbq chips) and strolling out empty handed.

Darn carseat over my arm throws me off every time.

Happy Valentine's Day

We've gotten about 16" of snow in the central Indiana area and have had two days off of work due to the weather (and being a business owner, this merely means that I was too lazy to get my own ass out of bed and pack up my stuff to head downtown).
I'm very much looking forward to enjoying a fancy dinner out tonight.


Have a lovely holiday.

Not the way I remember seeing Pink Floyd

After a long work week, my husband and I decided to go out Friday to see a newly formed local band who play the 'entire Dark Side of the Moon album' (can you still use the word 'album'? hmm) at an all-ages venue.

My first thought was, 'Do the kids still listen to the Pink Floyd?'. I mean, I know that you can buy a 'concert' t-shirt at Target these days for about $12 (unlike the days of actually having to scour the thrift shops looking for someone's unloved Cure or Depeche Mode tee in the .49 rack at St. Vincent De Paul's shop and praying that you didn't get impetigo again because you didn't want to wash your clothes before wearing them to school); but is this album still a rite of passage? I wanted to know.

So we packed up our 5 month old baby and hit the road to the coffeeshop about 20 minutes away. We listened to the first few songs at the back of the room and I started up a conversation with a women standing next to us who also was holding a young baby.

We chit-chatted about random topics (the volume of the band was rather comfortable, considering) and I had questioned her about the earplugs that her baby was wearing. Pink and squishy, like play-doh, it appeared. She asked me if I wanted some and I momentarily flashed back to that summer day in 1994 when I saw Pink Floyd in Indianapolis and, literally, couldn't find my way out of my own vehicle because someone had asked me if I 'wanted some' and I enthusiastically nodded my head in agreement. So when I said, 'yes' to this woman and she carefully reached into her purse and pulled out a clear plastic container with about 10 pair of pill-like pink earplugs, I started laughing at the absurdity of the moment.

I then pushed the little discs onto my daughter's ears and danced with her in my arms at the small coffeeshop to a cover band playing the second side of the Dark Side of the Moon album and wondered how I could have gotten so lucky.

This is how it's done

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Bill Lester and I have your business card here and wondered if you had a minute to talk?"

"Uh, sure. What about?"

"Well, I'm contacting you because you're a business owner and I've found that entrepreneurs are an ambitious bunch. I'm looking for someone who is interested in making $250,000 this year. Do you know anyone who would be interested in an incredible opportunity such as this?"

"Um, how 'bout YOU, Mr. Bill Lester? Don't you want to make a quarter-million dollars this year so you wouldn't have to make these dumb phone calls to people you don't even know? Seems pretty simple to me."

click.

Coal in my stocking

I'm gonna spill it and say that I very much dislike Christmas and all it's dumb crap; however, being in the retail business, this sentiment doesn't sit well with the clientele. Just today I selected some holiday music (never mind that it's 55 degrees today, which I love, by the way) to lull shoppers into the buying mood. I just cannot imagine spending money for the Christmas holiday while in short-sleeved shirts and open windows.
It just ain't right.

This Just In: necessary edit!

At risk of being pummelled by overworked mamas everywhere, I must interject and say that we will NOT EVER be meeting at Chunky Cheese.
That is all.

Startin' a Mama's Group. Are You In?

So due to the disappointing number of hip mama's groups (mainly, monthly get-togethers and sanity support for new and experienced mamas), I've decided to do a bit of my own organizing.

If you're a mama and would like to participate, post a comment with your thoughts (and/or send an email) and we'll get things rolling in the new year.

I'll get things started and say that I'd like to meet the first Wednesday or Thursday of every month from 6:30-7:30 or so at a location yet to be determined (something informal, a rentable meeting room or a kid-friendly, inexpensive restaurant, etc); we can discuss the direction of the group at that time. When spring arrives, we can meet up for outdoor events (walks, parks, hiking, you get the idea).

Let's do it.

Cool.

'How Do I Look In This Hat?' or 'What Day Is It? I've Been Awake Since Sunday.'

I'm lovin' this motherhood thing. Seriously.

I've never really been much of a mall-rat (well, except for that one summer with my mom when I couldn't get enough of The Limited and their uber-contemporary chrome and glass store displays); but, believe me, when there is a newborn involved, anything that makes you feel like a normal woman and not just a walking breast, you gotta get down with it.

So we're (me, Rosemary and her daddy) strolling through the mall via LensCrafters (my obsession with the perfect pair of eyeglasses continues. Why is it so damn difficult to find a pair of black-framed slightly upturned cat eye frames that don't look like I'm going to a Mardi Gras party? Pisses me off). Anyway, after spending over an hour trying on frames (Prada? D & G? Armani? Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? It'd be a cold day in Maui before I'd lay down $300 for frames, despite how desperately the sales clerk stroked my ego by telling me how 'Hollywood' and 'modern' I looked in them), we head on over to the mall pizza spot (complete with framed photos of the customary b&w shots from 1973 of open-shirted Guido and Tony holding a hand-tossed pizza and looking like they finished doing laps at the corner Rollerama to the 45 of Billy Joel's 'Movin' Out'). Then off to Old Navy to take a peek at their baby section, as Rosemary is in dire need of some sleepin' clothes and I'm attempting to clothe her in as many 'non-pink' items as possible (brown? blue? bring it on. I'll deal with the gender identity issues later).

It's gonna be a long winter.

Good Christ Almighty

Well, jumping Jesus.
It's been ages since my last post.

Flowers have come and gone in my yard (I view the seasons and overall passage of time in terms of which flowers are in bloom, ridiculous, I know) and the leaves are a' changing. As we head into my very least favorite time of year (winter, ick) I've decided to get the blog churning again.

First and foremost, my beautiful daughter was born in mid-September.
Rosemary Autumn is an absolute joy and I couldn't be more in love with her adorableness and sense of wonder. I couldn't wait to kiss her little feet immediately after she was born and I gotta tell you that, thus far, motherhood is everything I had hoped for (my opinion is likely to change in about 14 years) and the sleepless nights will be merely a memory soon enough; so I'm trying to appreciate even the difficult aspects of raising a newborn (diaper rash, sore boobies, nighttime feedings, adjusting my previously selfish schedule to allow her to come to work with me, did I mention sore boobies?). Anyway, she is joyous and will provide years of easy conversation and amusement.

Isn't she a peach?

At This Point in the Season, the Only Flower in my Yard That's Worth Photographing

Sad Little Pansies