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Happy Halloween Folks!

It was beautiful.  We had the pumpkins carvedDsc00715 and the fog machine up, fun lighting (not too scary for the little ones), and plenty of candy.  Then me and the kid donned our outfits and cruised the streets, chatting with the neighbors.  Since it's a pretty small neighborhood (only four streets) we really only get the neighbor kids, about 30-40 max.  But we're lucky to live in a place where people get into the holiday spirit and like to decorate, so it's always fun even if we don't get that many kids.   

Hope everyone enjoyed the night!    

Dsc00703


A Small Rant Regarding Tutus

You know, just because someone puts on a tutu or a crazy wig does not mean they are good at entertaining children.  Seriously.  And… I think what offends me most… not only are they not very good at entertaining children (I swear to god some of these people are failed rock bands thinly disguising their previously original, though crappy, rock songs as “children’s songs” in an attempt to “make it”.  Well hey, I’m gonna tell you, just because you put the word “dream” in the lyrics doesn’t make it especially child-centric, OK?) …but they’re really BAD dressers as well!  I understand how a tutu can be seen as funny and frolic-y and childlike, but that doesn’t mean you just throw it on over any old shit you pulled out of your closet.  Some of these people look like they’re still doing the metal/grunge look, only they’ve added one item in a primary color and a tutu.  Or there are those who just throw several items in primary/vibrant colors together, all mishmash.  Again like they pulled crap randomly from their closet, looked at the pile on the floor, said, “Hey, that looks bright” and put it on.  Shirt, pants, stupid wig, two different colored socks, tutu.  I don’t have anything against people dressing “uniquely” (trust me, I’ve put some unique outfits together in my time) and I don’t think everything has to match but, christ on wheels people, have you ever heard of a color palette?!  Punky Brewster is no longer around for a reason (and I still think she put shit together better than these people).  If you want to pick a look, if you want to wear a costume, pick out a costume… but stop offending those of us with some color-coordinating sensibilities, OK?  Kids have eyes too!               - the weirdgirl, an offended viewer

P.S. That little bee girl from the Blind Melon video did a tutu beautifully. Take a clue.


Closet-Diving

I haven’t tried on any of the skirts I own in months.  Let’s just say the last time I tried this experiment it was a dismal failure.  In 20-20 hindsight, it was probably a little too soon after having the kid (you moms out there know what I’m talking about – jiggle tummy... and jiggle everything else, too).  But… I had started to lose a little weight, at the time I needed a skirt ensemble for going out to dinner, and I was hopelessly, sadly optimistic about the entire venture.  I thought that because some of my skirts were on the large size pre-pregnancy I might be able to still get into them.  Boy, was I wrong.

However, today is a new day and another new weight and I’m feeling up for another dive into the old closet.  With the coming of fall I’ve been feeling very collegiate goth lately –  you know, black tights, chunky sweaters, boots – and I’ve got a little black plaid number in there somewhere that would just do the trick.  I’m also 34, you know.  And I KNOW the What Not To Wear rule, “no miniskirts after 35”.  That only gives me a year to cram in all my miniskirt-wearing adventures.  And yes, you can have adventures in miniskirts, usually proceeded by one-too-many drinks.  (Stacy and Clinton would probably frown on the thigh-high stockings as well.  I guess I should retire those.)

SO!  If this next closet-dive turns out fortuitously, here are the questions for which I am in dire need of answers… If I don’t look 35, can I still get away with wearing miniskirts?  (I’m just trying to extend the adven… ahem, lifetime of the skirts, you see.)  And, if I do wear a miniskirt while pushing my stroller down the street, will that only make me look like a hoochie mom? 

(Classy MILF is OK, however.  I trust you all understand the distinction.)    

         - the weirdgirl


Food-Stream-of-Consciousness

This Friday night I am going out to a fancy-schmancy restaurant.  One that is well-known and gets kick-ass reviews.  One that I have to dress up for, without a burp rag or formula stain in site.  One that will, hopefully, serve things I have never tasted previously.  I love fancy-schmancy restaurants.  Me and Keen Dad are what are known as “foodies”.  Or actually, he’s probably the foodie ‘cause he truly knows how to cook and what goes in everything and all the techniques.  Whereas I just like to eat… and I always mangle the French words and turn all the Italian words into Spanish (Keen gets really exasperated when I do this) and so on.  So maybe I’m more of a foodie groupie.  Anyways, let’s just say we have epicurean tastes.  Some people will spend their money on electronic gadgets or designer coats.  We spend our money, joyfully, on food.  (On any given day you can open our fridge and find at least one packet of prosciutto and several types of cheese among other goodies.  Keen Dad can whip out an anti-pasta plate at a moments notice.  Really.  I’ve seen him do it.)

(Can you believe that Word spell check does not recognize the word prosciutto?  WTF?)

I was thinking about this as I scarfed down a lasagna Keen’s grandfather had dropped off for us. (They’re Italian. They do things like drop off food unexpectedly.)  It was very nice of him to think of us in conjunction with lasagna, however, he is also getting on in years.  This means a very sweet tomato sauce because he can’t taste it unless he adds a ton of sugar.  Tomato sauce with sugar.  This would be absolutely unheard of in the house I grew up in.  I have crazy hippie parents who were into “natural” foods and flavors, such as tomato sauce that tasted like tomatoes, even if those tomatoes were at the end of the season and a bit bitter, or strawberries fresh from the organic garden with the added protein of bugs as you crunched into them.  They also loved experimenting with foodstuffs and made everything from scratch.  (This included the strawberry tofu ice cream experiment which they made with hard tofu, not the soft stuff, so it had lumps.  They couldn’t understand why us kids, who were SO EXCITED when they carted the ice cream maker home from the latest garage sale, wouldn’t eat the strawberry tofrutti they cooked up.)  Not that every experiment was bad.  Some were fabulous.  My parents had a huge garden and raised their own chickens (for eggs), and to this day I grow heirloom tomatoes because you just can’t eat the cardboard tasting stuff after being raised on homegrown food.  Did I mention this was all in the suburbs?

Coincidentally, now that my parents are older, even though they still love home-grown veggies they’re not so strict on the natural foods anymore.  My mom often comes over for Chef Boyardee for lunch.  Next they’ll be putting sugar in the tomato sauce.

Anyway. That was very roundabout and meandering. What it means is: even though I do not cook, I have a very great appreciation for food.  The above examples – sweet lasagna, hard tofrutti – are not-so-fine dining.  They’ll do.  I don’t mind eating canned and easy to prepare foods on a day-to-day basis.  As I said before, I don’t cook and beggars can’t be choosers.  However, when it comes time to go out, especially considering we don’t get out nearly as often as we used to (like practically never), then I want fine dining.  Layered flavors, presentation, expensive ingredients.  Ooh, and wine pairings!  My mouth is watering just thinking about it! (I often catch myself doing the redheaded chick version of Homer Simpson’s drooling.  Mmmm….classy.)  The menu is California Fusion, but I hope there is a lot of French influence.  (I fucking love French food.  It blows my mind.) 

We used to go out to these fine dining experiences a lot more often.  But we have the kid now and it’s hard to leave him just to go to dinner when we could be having strained peaches with him.  Honestly, I really do enjoy watching him eat.  (And no one delivers in our neck of the woods.  Not that these type of restaurants would deliver anyway.)  One of my mom wishes is that Chance turns out to be an adventurous eater.  Or at least, maybe just not a picky one.  I really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will like nuanced flavors and new foods and behave like such a little gentleman that of course we could take him to a fancy-schmancy restaurant if we wanted to as he tries everything with gusto.  I know better (I mean, I didn’t even like pizza when I was a kid).  But I can dream, can’t I?         

Long and rambling story short, I am really looking forward to this night out.  Even though it’s hard to leave the kid at home, the lure of really great food is just too powerful to resist.  It’s been too long.                - the weirdgirl


Scary Spam

Does anyone else get spam that says nothing?  I mean, no subject line, no text, no anything, just a “from” address and that’s it?  They’re very mysterious sorts of spam... and a little ominous.  It’s kind of like getting an anonymous, cryptic postcard in the mail.  My blocking controls don't seem to work on them either.  Maybe they are vehicles for the government to spy on us.  Maybe they’re portals to a spam-controlled universe.  I don’t know.  But they kind of freak me out.  I’m almost even superstitious about deleting them.  Except for that whole portal thing… just in case.         - wg


A Treatise Concerning the Nature of “With It”

I’ve been seeing a lot of hullabaloo over the stroller controversy, i.e. which ones are “in”, which are safest, most versatile, which is a statement and what that statement means, etc. and the debates that rage about each and every one of these points.  My reaction to these debates just go to prove how much of a nerd I really am.  I just… don’t… care.  I’m not “with it” concerning strollers and I have no plans to become “with it” in the future.  I don’t even have an opinion about people spending money on the more (or less) expensive units; it’s your money, blow it on what you want, just don’t run me off the sidewalk with what you bought.  I’m sure there are people out there who will take my disinterest in the debate as a sign that I’m a bad, “uninvolved” mom.  Well, here’s more of a shocker… this is a debate I wasn’t even aware existed until I started trolling the parental blogs.  I’m not surprised it exists, and I’m not disparaging anyone who is participating in the debate... it’s just not the kind of thing I get or follow.  Sort of like celebrity marriages and going-ons.  I don’t follow any of those either and I really can’t discuss them at any length at all.  I do follow fashion a bit, because I really like clothes and shoes.  However, if the newest trends in fashion don’t look fucking fabulous on my body personally, I aint buying ‘em.  I definitely don’t go for the “what everybody is buying” trend just because it’s what everybody is buying, regardless of what label/item/statement is hot at the moment.  I have to like it first.  I’m more interested in styles that look good (in my subjective opinion), are comfortable, and fit my life.  (yes, it’s a whole different kind of vanity) 

Obviously, I am doomed to be hopelessly out of step because I can’t muster the interest to learn what’s cool or not.  I recently asked in the comments section on someone else’s blog if I was a hipster and didn’t know it.  But… after thinking about it, I don’t think I am a hipster.  At heart, I’m pretty sure I’m a nerd.  A bad mommy nerd.

I think I’ll live.           – the weirdgirl


"The distinction between children and adults, while probably useful for some purposes, is at bottom a specious one, I feel. There are only individual egos, crazy for love."
-- Don Barthelme (1931-89), American author

My son is so much fun.  (I haven’t written a gushy post in a while.  Forgive a mom’s need to gush.)  He is at the age where his personality is really starting to show.  Chance is turning out to be quite a character.  It’s the little things that get to me (and I suppose, at this age, all their personality is about the little things anyways).  He sucks in his cheeks when he’s really enjoying something he’s eating and he waggles his fingers.  He looks inordinately pleased when I hand him something that he actually wanted, like the cat’s toy (as compared to the bait and switch toys I’m usually feeding him).  Of all the songs I sing to him his favorite is “A Bicycle Built for Two”.  He’ll throw his arms around mine or Keen Dad’s neck and butt foreheads, or do the open mouth slobber-sprawl “kiss” across our faces.  He seems to really love people, even when he’s being shy.  And he already seems to be developing a sense of humor (OK, maybe I’m reaching for that one a bit – who can really tell yet?); he loves games and quickly recognizes when we’re playing or even just smiles when we do something he finds amusing (which is often). 

This is my favorite part of being a parent – watching him be himself.  Watching him learn is wonderful too, each new discovery and milestone.  But it is in the moments when he is just his silly, little character self that I feel my heart do that swollen, happy, heartbreak thing. 

So here is 20 seconds of my son, Chance.  Download MOV00664.MPG

- just another mom crazy for love


Degrees of Seven

I was half-pinged for this meme by Dutch (though he DID officially end it, wise gypsy man) and decided to pick it up because it’s interesting to think some of these things through.  I mean, how often do we think about what we can’t do or really set down on paper some goals to do before we die?  And the “things we say most often”?  That one was tough, ‘cause I’m not really listening to the shit coming out of mouth, you know what I’m saying?

Anyway.  Anybody I pinged at the end please feel free to play or not, at your discretion (but I would love to hear what you have to say). 

7 Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

  1. write and publish a book (or several) – (just like every other blogger; why don’t we set up a writer’s group so we’ll all actually start?)
  2. travel a lot more
  3. learn to weld
  4. learn to play drums
  5. go on an archaeological dig
  6. take my son hiking on the secret trails in Yosemite 
  7. start dancing again

7 Things I Cannot Do:

  1. cook
  2. not be a smartass
  3. ski
  4. get excited about cleaning the bathroom no matter what new gadget they have
  5. give up on friends (even when they might deserve it)
  6. understand why the line, “Let’s not start sucking each other’s dicks just yet,” doesn’t translate to an office setting ( I could have used it SO many times!)
  7. put up with incompetent people in the workplace (I have some issues; it’s why I freelance)

7 Things That Attract Me to the Opposite Sex:

  1. intelligence (such a turn on!)
  2. confidence
  3. ambition/drive
  4. sense of humor
  5. ability to have fun (doesn’t take himself too seriously)
  6. good with kids/animals
  7. well-dressed (not all the time, but looking great every once in a while is very, very sexy… now you just sit there and look pretty)

7 Things I Say Most Often:

  1. Come here, you
  2. What are we doing for dinner?
  3. meow (this is a code word in our household)
  4. I’m sorry
  5. Umm…
  6. damnit!
  7. What’cha doin’ (insert baby or cat name here)?

7 Celebrity Crushes:

  1. Harrison Ford
  2. George Clooney
  3. Neil Gaiman
  4. Edward Norton
  5. Charlize Theron (she is such a strong chick!)
  6. The Rock – yum
  7. punk boys… so cute!

7 People I Want To Do This (Because I Want to See What They Say):

  1. Sandriux
  2. Finding Zen
  3. Childbearing Hipster
  4. The Phoenix
  5. The Ledge
  6. Chocolate Makes It Better
  7. and… OK, I can’t think of anyone else

Alright, I decided to add my own section.  Because I wanted to and because there should be seven categories, shouldn’t there?  If it’s gonna be all about sevens.  I mean, that’s just basic mythos magic. So here you go.

7 Things I’m Thankful for:

  1. getting to watch my son everyday grow into a person of his own
  2. my babe, Keen Dad
  3. growing older (and maybe a little wiser)
  4. how great the kitty cats are doing with the baby
  5. school
  6. having a plethora of great music and books in the world
  7. the best friends a girl could have