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.

Smelling of chlorine and chocolate fondue

Oh man, I've been really having a rough time with the guilt and doubt associated with child care. I thought all of this was worked out until my daycare unexpectedly closed last month; which has me rethinking everything I once believed was completely sorted out. This feeling is nothing new to mothers, I am sure, but some days it's more difficult for me than others; especially those that begin with giggles, whispered 'mama' and blowing kisses. The mornings where my toddler dumps her bowl of eggs to the dog, sticks her foamy toothbrush into my hair, acts like I'm wiping her butt with 80 grit sandpaper and tosses my hairbrush into the toilet, not near as much. However, today presented one of those moments where nothing sounded better than keeping my monkey-child hanging from my hip for the duration of the day, reading (and re-reading) her favorite books (Thomas flip book, Blankie and her books about colors, among others), following her around the house and redirecting her from pulling every last square of toilet paper off the wall.

It was most certainly a day for hooky.

I sent a few text messages to cover the bases with work and we embarked on our first adventure of the day which was to purchase swimsuits for a wintry dip into the pool at the gym. All I can say is, thank goodness for the color black and those goofy little skirt-looking swimsuit bottoms (and also for animal crackers which kept my little one inside the Target dressing room for 1.46 minutes and not crawling under the door while I was standing there sans pants whilst trying to squeeze myself into a size medium tankini top). Rosemary's suit was much simpler to select as anything that is sized at 18 months is going to be darn cute and I'm pretty sure that she's not the least bit concerned about thigh coverage.

The trip to the pool was exactly what we needed on this cold, January day and I wrapped up my afternoon of hooky by sitting around fondue pots of milk chocolate with a fabulous group of moms; because everyone knows that after shopping for swimsuits in the middle of winter nothing brightens your mood and makes you forget about all of those holiday cookies more than heaping bowls of melted chocolate.

Well, isn't this something

I'm usually not the first one to expose themselves to a stranger, even that one time while swimming in the creek when I did NOT see that fisherman, thank you very much; however, I fairly confidently rose my hand when the local paper recently requested local blogs to feature in their Wedenesday Relate section. I've always been the type of introvert who has kept journals stuffed under thrift shop sofas and hidden in the underwear drawer during my high school and college days; because, you know, if someone was going to snoop for something that was important to it's owner, they would definitely not be searching in a girl's panty drawer. Right? Okay, maybe I was a smidge naive.

I spent a good portion of my Wednesday taking phone calls and answering email from readers who wanted to laugh with me about something that I had posted (mainly my daughter's great use of animal sounds and cutting off hair that had been growing since before the Bush administration meant George W.). I appreciate the feedback that you've given and it was good chatting with many of you about how a simple thing like opening up in such a personal way creates an instant connection.

So, thank you.

Sincerely.

Rosemary's word index

Thus far (and, no, that's not one of them. That's also more of a phrase and less of a 'word', actually).

Dada

Mama

Tata (an abbreviated version of the dog's name; it's a stretch, but I'll give her this one)

Cheese

Bite

Keys

Bye bye

Bath

Kitty

and a myriad of animal sounds; because, well, she's my child and I think it's hysterical when I ask her what a sheep says and she responds with a staccato, 'BAH.'

All apologies to the Target Superstore for our brief rendez-vous with an alternate shopping destination

Having watched an embarassing number of hours of the Sprout channel in the last several days, a trip out into the cold was long overdue. With Macy's gift card in hand, we strolled into the department store to search for some new bedsheets. My eyes darted quickly from one display to another looking for just the right mix of modern, with a brilliant and unexpected use of pattern.

My husband was shopping for thread count.

Like the 800 series.

Like something that feels like sleeping in a box of tissue.

With aloe.

It's a good thing that our daughter was quite easily distracted by the rows of low, soft pillows and packages of lightweight fitted sheets that could be pulled out at the last minute in a toddler maneuver to trip up the parents; as our endless trips around the Martha Stewart line of sheets were nauseating. With greasy fingers from the usual stop at the pretzel shop in the mall we unzipped a few packages to compare the 200 thread count versus the 500. I'll mention that it really goes without saying that there is a definite difference, kind of like cheese cloth versus angora; however, I also used to consider a daily swim in the Wildcat Creek a bath, and I also have one pair of shoes for each season so I may not be the most qualified person to consult about this sort of thing.

Certain that our home will be filled with the neighborhood's unwanted hamsters, fish and birds by 2010

I needed to go to Staples to purchase a new 2008 planner this past weekend and I figured that Rosemary probably wouldn't find the office supply store quite as divine as I do; so, at the last minute, we walked into PetSmart, conveniently located right next to said office supply store. She is very much into animals and their coordinating sounds right now and I really didn't know how she'd react to the customers with their pets walking in and out of the store and the cat adoption that was going on in the entranceway; not to mention all of the store's animals.

I strapped her into the cart and she promptly caught sight of the cats, which immediately forced her into the usual rendition of an unmedicated feline with a case of tuberculosis and untreated mange, 'Mow' (sounds like cow) is her response when she encounters a cat. We passed many dogs which she greeted with an enthusiastic, 'Oof.' Caged birds and feeder fish were just as wondrous.

PetSmart. We're goin' back.

Five things I need to get me through winter (besides hope for an early spring, obviously)

(note: these are merely a few material items that come to mind when I'm thinking about the endless misery of winter. An additional list might include Zoloft or a vehicle full of carbon monoxide, for example)

1. Lotions. I love them; but especially the scent of Bath and Body Works Warm Vanilla Sugar. It's so intoxicating and wintry smelling.
2. Alba coconut lip balm. There are, apparently, other flavors but the coconut one is dreamy and available at the grocery store so I can pick it up when I'm out for dog food or that dry shaved honey ham that I love; the one that's really hard to swallow and you'd need to have a glass of water on hand just in case. Yum.
3. Bencheley cherry almond tea. Enough said. It's very good at the end of the day with honey.
4. Soy candles. Just in general. They burn well and the scent is strong. Balsam, vanilla, sandalwood. Good stuff.
5. Oil of Olay facial lotion. I've used this stuff since I was sixteen; of course now there's a much larger variety to choose from. Not just for the cold cream, Christmas corsage crowd either.

Camera lesson

I received this amazing Canon camera as a Christmas gift and I still can't get the manual settings to make sense in my head.

Oh, and I got it last Christmas.

I even took a 3 week class; which, while I was in the class, I thought I had it all figured out and could take the cute little shots of the teacups all lined up and make that cool fuzzy look with the background. However, when I got home I think my brain emptied somewhere around a curve at Ninth Street as I would try out the same things in my living room and all I got were fuzzy, overexposed pictures. I think the main problem is that I want to photograph a child who doesn't know how to stay still for more than zero seconds.

On the bright side, about every sixth photo of a flower or dead, unmoving tree looks great.

Christmas (or why I'll be leaving the store early today to go to the gym)

I decided to make about 12 tins of homemade fudge, chocolatey bark and the like for my local friends and to deliver them the week before Christmas with Rosemary. I must admit that it was a LOT of fun picking out the goofy snowman and reindeer containers at the craft store as I went in for something other than the usual stuff: watercolor paper, mats, paints, frames, beads, glass and the 70% off aisle.
I chose the recipes pretty carefully as I wanted something that I could make easily as my only prior experience with baking has been adding rotten bananas to a box of Jiffy mix breads. So I opted for a fudge selection that was rumored to take only 5 minutes and a peppermint bark creation that I could make with my eyes closed or while continuously relocating my daughter from the oven light in the kitchen as that is, evidently, the single most fascinating thing in the house (besides her Thomas the train flip book that I recently purchased from Goodwill for 69 cents, which may mysteriously DISAPPEAR tonight because I could probably recite that book backwards if asked).

We successfully made all of our treats and delivered them after dinner one night to many shocked friends; as I repeatedly heard things like, 'You MADE this', and 'Holy shit. You BAKED?', more than once so I guess it was unexpected, no?

We did keep one tin of 'extra' candies in the refrigerator of our house and I ingested a good portion of the fudge before the holiday. Not to mention the massive amount of sugary things at my mom's house for Christmas which led to my current 3-month weight loss/fitness challenge with my husband; and, for the love of God, I had better win as I do NOT want to be doing his laundry for the following three months after.

New doesn't always equal bad

I must admit that I've not had a 'new' kind of haircut for a LONG time. Like maybe since Oasis or Pearl Jam had a hit record. Or maybe since I stopped eating frozen pizzas every single night or since I owned an actual telephone answering machine with the cassette tape (or even a landline phone, for that matter).

I decided yesterday at about 1 pm that I was going to cut off my bangs (maybe 15" of very thin post pregnancy hair, not the thick stuff so it wasn't too traumatic) and at 3:15 pm I was sitting in the chair of a random stylist who happened to be available to meet my whim and was texting my best friend in Chicago the play-by-play of the situation. "Bangs are cut!" and "Oh. My. God. So cute so far". The kind of stuff that men just wouldn't understand because they have to act like they don't give a shit about the way they look or their masculinity comes into question.

So, I now have short bangs that aren't too bad, actually; however, I've got to teach them to behave as they're all over the place and are in complete and total rebellious shock at the recent amputation.