Cam is officially in a normal bed now.
New Yorkers, while not in cars, are very nice people, especially to women with babies on the train.
What happened to swine flu?
I miss playing golf and volleyball. Sometimes basketball and softball. But I'm enjoying my yoga, just wish I could do it two or three times a week.
Broccoli 1. Chocolate cookies 5.
Had my first go at Guitar Hero -- but on the drums -- and I can hold my own at medium level. Rocked Eye of the Tiger. Nirvana kicked my ass in the final verse. Twice.
Is it wrong that I enjoyed Mother's Day morning because I didn't spend it with Cam? Got to sleep in, go to yoga, be by myself for about 1/2 hour before the boys took me to breakfast. Brilliant! Yet still so very weird I'm included in this holiday.
Why is it impossible to spend less than $200 each trip to Costco?
My friend just had her baby on Sunday in three hours start to finish. Didn't realize that was an option. Please sign me up for that next time.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
In the Battle of Big Person vs. Little Person, Big Person Wins Every Time
I've been debating about privacy and this blog, and just what I was willing to share about myself and others. It's KILLING me right now, as I have one personal tid-bit to share that's slightly embarrassing, and one bit of news about someone who I hate. HATE. that would be so gratifying to share as it's the truth icing on the toxic bitch cake that has nail files in it in an attempt to (off-)spring from jail a waste of a life or two. I have never wanted to be as teeny, tiny, infinitesimal a person about publicizing this news as I do now, but damn it. Morals. Bastard morals. As always, I have to be the bigger person.
What is one to do? If you know me, you know there really isn't much I won't share (sorry about that). But it occurs to me -- as a self-proclaimed and, dare I say it, rather accomplished cyberstalker -- that setting up a blog open to the masses sets oneself up for the possibility of being stalked, uh, oneself.
It's not stranger-weirdos trying to track me down that bothers me. It's the people I know who I don't care for indulging in their own stalkiness that irks. I can only think of a handful of people who would take the time, or who I would find it particularly grating that they were having a snoop and hitting stalking gold. See above about person I HATE.
To the questions. Where do you draw the line on privacy online? Also, when gossiping can go very public so easily, what is there to stop you from doing it? Sub-question: if it's already in the newspaper and on the news, wouldn't one just be disseminating already public information thus providing a public service? Discuss.
What is one to do? If you know me, you know there really isn't much I won't share (sorry about that). But it occurs to me -- as a self-proclaimed and, dare I say it, rather accomplished cyberstalker -- that setting up a blog open to the masses sets oneself up for the possibility of being stalked, uh, oneself.
It's not stranger-weirdos trying to track me down that bothers me. It's the people I know who I don't care for indulging in their own stalkiness that irks. I can only think of a handful of people who would take the time, or who I would find it particularly grating that they were having a snoop and hitting stalking gold. See above about person I HATE.
To the questions. Where do you draw the line on privacy online? Also, when gossiping can go very public so easily, what is there to stop you from doing it? Sub-question: if it's already in the newspaper and on the news, wouldn't one just be disseminating already public information thus providing a public service? Discuss.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Where's Sally Jesse When I Need Her?
Not until after I had Cameron did I understand how women went on talk shows for make overs and said they hadn't looked in a mirror for years. But suddenly, I could relate.
I was going to write something about maintaining a certain level of hygiene (washing, brushing) after having Cam, but now that I think about it, that would be a big, fat lie. Clothes were filthy, either too big or too small, covered in god-knows. As close to a mirror as I got was to vaguely glance to see if I had food in my teeth or mascara under my eyes. Hair was in a perma-pony, or I'd put on a hat instead of makeup.
That phase lasted a long, long time.
Not enough pounds lighter but regularly bathed and maintained, I've returned to fashion (well, returned to effort, success is questionable) but not to one of the mirrors I never used to shy away from: the camera.
I just signed up for something that asked for a recent photo of me -- with no one else in it -- and I couldn't find one. Not one. After quite a search, I found one from September 2006 that I thought was an accurate representation of how I think of myself looking. I look about 12 and 150lbs. Sent that picture faster than you can say DREAM ON.
Alas, sometimes I feel every bit the geriatric mother Welsh hospitals categorize us mothers over 30 as. Seriously? Geriatric?
Kick. Us. While. We're. Down. And fat and swollen and hormonal. Anyway.
My point is, I get why Glamour Shots has stayed in business so long, and I back soft focus portrait techniques! Though I don't see the need for feather boas. That's just more seduction than any middle-aged housewife can handle.
I was going to write something about maintaining a certain level of hygiene (washing, brushing) after having Cam, but now that I think about it, that would be a big, fat lie. Clothes were filthy, either too big or too small, covered in god-knows. As close to a mirror as I got was to vaguely glance to see if I had food in my teeth or mascara under my eyes. Hair was in a perma-pony, or I'd put on a hat instead of makeup.
That phase lasted a long, long time.
Not enough pounds lighter but regularly bathed and maintained, I've returned to fashion (well, returned to effort, success is questionable) but not to one of the mirrors I never used to shy away from: the camera.
I just signed up for something that asked for a recent photo of me -- with no one else in it -- and I couldn't find one. Not one. After quite a search, I found one from September 2006 that I thought was an accurate representation of how I think of myself looking. I look about 12 and 150lbs. Sent that picture faster than you can say DREAM ON.
Alas, sometimes I feel every bit the geriatric mother Welsh hospitals categorize us mothers over 30 as. Seriously? Geriatric?
Kick. Us. While. We're. Down. And fat and swollen and hormonal. Anyway.
My point is, I get why Glamour Shots has stayed in business so long, and I back soft focus portrait techniques! Though I don't see the need for feather boas. That's just more seduction than any middle-aged housewife can handle.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Loathing in The Time of Launderia
Substitute title: Ring Around the Collar-a?
Don't know why appliances are high on my list to write about. It's not like I do housework. But here we are, may I be hounded by environmentalists everywhere: I can't escape energy-efficient washing machines. I love the idea of them, of course (who doesn't want to save the planet one wash at a time?), but I hate the reality of them.
My understanding is they work on less water and use less energy by taking longer per load. But here's the rub: how is it energy efficient when you can only half-fill the damned things thus requiring double the loads, and nothing comes out clean so you have to wash them twice?
Am I high or is that more energy, less efficiency?
They're ever so popular in Europe, where they are rarely accompanied by tumble dryers and located in the kitchen. A kitchen usually located in an apartment, located in a building without access to an outdoor clothes line. What you are left with is airing your (still dirty) laundry from every surface of the house, usually the radiators – which sometimes you have to turn on especially to dry the clothes. Even if you do have access to the outside with a line, what’s the point if you live in a place where it rains, like the UK, 360 days a year?
Now, being Americans with tumble dryers, you might not know that if your laundry is left to dry of its own devices, it can take days, and as time passes, your clothes develop a mildewy smell and you have to start the process all over again. It’s a nightmare.
Doing laundry is the one chore I don’t loathe, but give me an energy-sucking, high-speed, meter-spinning, stain-removing, truly convenient, lovely jubbly machine that finishes a wash in under two hours and I may just be able to focus some time on putting away the clean clothes instead of piling them up on the dresser.
Don't know why appliances are high on my list to write about. It's not like I do housework. But here we are, may I be hounded by environmentalists everywhere: I can't escape energy-efficient washing machines. I love the idea of them, of course (who doesn't want to save the planet one wash at a time?), but I hate the reality of them.
My understanding is they work on less water and use less energy by taking longer per load. But here's the rub: how is it energy efficient when you can only half-fill the damned things thus requiring double the loads, and nothing comes out clean so you have to wash them twice?
Am I high or is that more energy, less efficiency?
They're ever so popular in Europe, where they are rarely accompanied by tumble dryers and located in the kitchen. A kitchen usually located in an apartment, located in a building without access to an outdoor clothes line. What you are left with is airing your (still dirty) laundry from every surface of the house, usually the radiators – which sometimes you have to turn on especially to dry the clothes. Even if you do have access to the outside with a line, what’s the point if you live in a place where it rains, like the UK, 360 days a year?
Now, being Americans with tumble dryers, you might not know that if your laundry is left to dry of its own devices, it can take days, and as time passes, your clothes develop a mildewy smell and you have to start the process all over again. It’s a nightmare.
Doing laundry is the one chore I don’t loathe, but give me an energy-sucking, high-speed, meter-spinning, stain-removing, truly convenient, lovely jubbly machine that finishes a wash in under two hours and I may just be able to focus some time on putting away the clean clothes instead of piling them up on the dresser.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
One Small Leap for Cameron...
One giant leap for everyone around the pool.
Cam took me swimming today, nearly in all my clothes. He marched right through the door, broke free of my hand, and ran and jumped into the pool. Managed to grab him mid-air by his shirt collar, leaving him with two bleeding claw marks down the back of his neck and a red necklace-looking mark around the front. Was he phased? No. Was I? No. Did everyone else -- including the lifeguard who usually spends eight hours a day staring at an empty pool wondering how his life had come to this -- crap themselves? Yes.
Cam took me swimming today, nearly in all my clothes. He marched right through the door, broke free of my hand, and ran and jumped into the pool. Managed to grab him mid-air by his shirt collar, leaving him with two bleeding claw marks down the back of his neck and a red necklace-looking mark around the front. Was he phased? No. Was I? No. Did everyone else -- including the lifeguard who usually spends eight hours a day staring at an empty pool wondering how his life had come to this -- crap themselves? Yes.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Foiled!
Day by day, I'm foiling my own plan. Which was to ruin Cameron for any other woman, have him live with us well into his forties, whilst supporting us from our basement via some Internet money-making endeavor.
Yet I continue to give him the tools he will need to leave me. Take tonight, for instance. After pooping on his potty (it is once again en vogue) and rubbing some amount of soap on himself in the shower, he indicated he wanted to sleep in his bed, not his crib. And there he stayed.
All this independence at 19 months doesn't suit me. At the park today, we met this little boy the exact same age, down to the day. While he sat playing quietly by his mom, Cam sprinted away repeatedly. After the ball, the bird, the dog, down the stairs, for no reason. Bah!
If this is now, what happens at 19 years? I ask you. If you could let me know, that'd be cool. Because apparently I'm also going to need to find an alternate source of income in my twilight years.
Yet I continue to give him the tools he will need to leave me. Take tonight, for instance. After pooping on his potty (it is once again en vogue) and rubbing some amount of soap on himself in the shower, he indicated he wanted to sleep in his bed, not his crib. And there he stayed.
All this independence at 19 months doesn't suit me. At the park today, we met this little boy the exact same age, down to the day. While he sat playing quietly by his mom, Cam sprinted away repeatedly. After the ball, the bird, the dog, down the stairs, for no reason. Bah!
If this is now, what happens at 19 years? I ask you. If you could let me know, that'd be cool. Because apparently I'm also going to need to find an alternate source of income in my twilight years.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Air Force One Giant PR Snafu
Our building was buzzed by Air Force One with fighter-jet chaperone three times Monday. There are varying reports as to why this was, but if they were looking for a PR disaster to take the focus off swine flu for a few minutes they succeeded.
The media reports of people panicking in our post-9/11 world are not over-hyped for once, as it really was disconcerting. The planes were loud and close, and seeing a huge plane with F-16 escort near NYC just makes you think, oh God.
There are pros and cons to living with someone in the airline industry. Plane-related things can be easily explained, but sometimes you don't want to hear the answer. Mitch knew there was something weird before he saw the F-16. Apparently, pilots in 747s don't turn at such severe angles, especially near airports and cities. All I saw was a huge plane with a Top Gun plane following, flying at building level around New York and didn't think that boded well for anyone.
I asked if we should leave our building -- we're on the 14th floor. Mitch said no. The second time around they were so close Mitch could see the Presidential seal, flag, colors and said it was Air Force One. I didn't buy it, even as he was saying there was no chance Obama was on board given how the pilot was flying. By the third pass I believed him and relaxed.
For me, it was scary, bizarre then cool. For NYers, it was just scary. I'm not one to think people should necessarily be fired when there's a publicized mistake made, but for once I hope the mastermind behind this gets a big pink slip for adding plane panic on top of swine panic on top of economic panic on top of existing and enduring terrorist panic around here.
The media reports of people panicking in our post-9/11 world are not over-hyped for once, as it really was disconcerting. The planes were loud and close, and seeing a huge plane with F-16 escort near NYC just makes you think, oh God.
There are pros and cons to living with someone in the airline industry. Plane-related things can be easily explained, but sometimes you don't want to hear the answer. Mitch knew there was something weird before he saw the F-16. Apparently, pilots in 747s don't turn at such severe angles, especially near airports and cities. All I saw was a huge plane with a Top Gun plane following, flying at building level around New York and didn't think that boded well for anyone.
I asked if we should leave our building -- we're on the 14th floor. Mitch said no. The second time around they were so close Mitch could see the Presidential seal, flag, colors and said it was Air Force One. I didn't buy it, even as he was saying there was no chance Obama was on board given how the pilot was flying. By the third pass I believed him and relaxed.
For me, it was scary, bizarre then cool. For NYers, it was just scary. I'm not one to think people should necessarily be fired when there's a publicized mistake made, but for once I hope the mastermind behind this gets a big pink slip for adding plane panic on top of swine panic on top of economic panic on top of existing and enduring terrorist panic around here.
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