Tiffylou

Maya's poem revisited

2008-10-06T11:12:00.001-07:00

I've probably posted this poem 2 or 3 times on a blog. Today the poem was forwarded to me by one of my best friends in Toronto. And it came through the wire at a moment when my heart was clenched and my head was pained with confusion and unfinished to-dos. So I am posting it here to remind myself of the simple wisdom contained in the poem's stanza. Simple, honest and full of a plain strength:

'MAYA ANGELOU'S'

BEST POEM EVER

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..
enough
money within her control to move out
and rent a place of her own,
even if she never wants to or needs to...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .
something perfect to wear if the employer, or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..
a youth she's content to leave behind....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a past juicy
enough that she's looking forward to
retelling it in her old age....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
one friend who always makes her laugh.. and one who lets her cry...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems,
and a recipe for a meal,
that will make her guests feel honored...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a feeling of control over her destiny..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to fall in love without losing herself..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to quit a job,
break up with a lover,
and confront a friend without;
ruining the friendship...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
when to try harder... and WHEN TO WALK AWAY...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that she can't change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that her childhood may not have been perfect...but it's over...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW....
how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW.. .
whom she can trust, whom she can't,
and why she shouldn't take it personally...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
where to go...
be it to her best friend's kitchen table..
or a charming Inn in the woods....
when her soul needs soothing...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..
What she can and can't accomplish in a day...
a month...and a year...

Sun Salutation

2008-09-25T21:13:00.000-07:00

Candyland Time

2008-09-25T20:52:00.001-07:00

If I lose enough weight I will exchange my wardrobe for fantasy land (Betsy Johnson style).

Amazing glamour shots

2008-09-25T20:19:00.000-07:00

I'm slightly obsessed...

2008-09-25T20:13:00.001-07:00

with Muse, they rock!

P!nk, "So What?"

2008-09-25T19:19:00.001-07:00

How great is this video??

Artist Site

Decor ideas for my house

2008-09-25T10:51:00.000-07:00

I am collecting pictures of household decor that I like, in order to fully remodel my house within my budget. Here are today's picks.

This recycled fence is adorable:

I like interior colors and lighting of this building:

I love these dishes:

I love these french doors and the side windows, perhaps in my kitchen:

I like the bed linens and the headboard:

I like the sectional sofa:

I like the green bookshelf:

I like headboard and the oversized picture on the wall:

I think this picture is awesome!

Love the random picture assortment and the wall color:

That's all for today!

The Badlands

2008-09-20T15:15:00.000-07:00

Six photos from our trip to the Badlands August 2008.

Clair Voyant's Photo Stream

2008-09-20T15:11:00.000-07:00

Clar Voyant has a beautiful Flickr gallery with an unusual collection of photographs.

Yahoo Pipes

2008-09-19T14:43:00.001-07:00

On friends, wine, careers, and blessings

2008-09-14T18:03:00.000-07:00

Friday night I met 2 old coworkers for chips, salsa, beer and pool at Baja Bean, and, later, dinner and wine at Avalon. Vivian charmingly gauked at the fru-fru entrees, chilled watermelon soup, duck confit with pesto, cuban corn with ancho aioli...not sure what that is...and I nearly licked the tomato base off a plate of roasted risotto. Karen, full of gracious energy that she portrays as tough and honest, but is more accurately described as beautiful and radiant, turns and says to me "I am happy now, because I am with you." And I am happy too, as we gush over a bottle of merlot/shiraz blend poured in white wine glasses, clanking against platters of fru-fru tapas. There are so many things to catch up on, a status update of an old workplace that hasn't changed, a campaign of tricks and celebrities, men who arn't man enough, and men we can not resist.

I drove home giddy, full of nostalgia of friends forgotten and then found. I have become an entirely different person in the 4 months since starting a new career. I am more thoughtful, careful, slower, happier. I am a professional, I have hope. Everything is sweeter, these last days of summer when the leaves on the tree are ripened green with maximum degree of verdigris before exploding into the red and oranges of fall; the soft humming of Chloe as she colors a Tinkerbell book laying on the carpet in the living room, her feet kicking up in the air; I am happy, extraordinarily happy. And the more satisfied I am with this house, this job, this family, the more satisfied I am, the more I am given...so that I don't understand it anymore. Why am I so blessed? What have I done to deserve such a wonderful life?

And the only way I know to give thanks is to give what I have to others. To smile at the clerk who sends me through the car wash, to add an extra $10 to the church where my daughter goes to daycare, to make mini lemon tarts for the guys at work (even if the tarts go untouched).

Sunday night creeps up quickly. I am drinking whats left in the bottle of Smoking Loon. I am closer to finishing one of the few websites I still have in my queue, and thinking about what assignment to accept next. I have become selective about what I will create, and while this seems arrogant, it provides me with a sense of control and artistic specificity that can only come from a job that is not a necessity.

Now the children are snuggled up, Payton with her American Doll named Josephina, and Chloe with her blanket tied in a knot under her arm as she sleeps in my bed on my pillow. I can still hear crickets chirp. I think I will miss the sound of crickets when winter comes.

Greetings From Point Pleasant

2008-09-10T09:47:00.000-07:00

I'm siiting in Jersey Mikes, the lunch establishment choice of the day. They are playing "Tequila Love Me" as I stare into a faded postcard sign of 1950s bikini model "Greetings from Point Pleasant New Jersey!" Diet Coke bubbles up my throat, the radio begins playing James Taylor and a pretty black girl drops her entire sandwich on the floor at my feet. I bend down to help her, as the deli guy starts preparing her a new meal.

There are too few tables here, a line of students and suits creates a U on the wooden floor. It's chilly in here and my nose threatens to start dripping. Philly Steak hisses on the grill. Two men debate the negative aspects of owning a Prius. One says its worse that you have to wait 8 years to recoup the savings on gas versus the extra expense of owning a hybrid. "No no whats worse is what happens to all the hybrid batteries, when they are no longer useable." They conclude that biodeisel in heavens solution. I'd like to get more foot power technology in my life.

My mind wonders into future seas: What will become of me when I am too old to be a hip young designer? how do I become Betsy Johnson, Anne Lebowitz, or Barbara Berry?

Can my waistline afford that cookie I want so badly? I suppose I better get up and share this table for four.

The speakers are playing Jimmy Buffett's "Last Mango in Paris", one of my top 10 songs of all time: "I ate the last mango in Paris, took the last plane out of Saigon, i took a first class boat to china and jimmy there's still so much to be done."

I'm packing up and staring intentionally at a blond across the restaurant because she looks like my cousing Katie, and I think she might be, so if I stare at her maybe it is Katie and she will recognize me and wave....or maybe she'll think I have no manners.

"Greeting from Point Pleasant"

Tuesday Lunch Time Rambling-Ons

2008-09-09T11:43:00.000-07:00

Im sitting in Harrison Street café, I love this place, so inspirational so motivational hmm not sure motivational is the proper word here….I am thinking, first, about Stephanie Meyer and her Twilight series, thinking, hey that could be me, I can write, I could come up with a sappy plot about teenage Romeo vampire meets normal Juliet human girl. But I didn’t come up with this. Stephanie did. I read she is 34 and suddenly I have a clock ticking in my head as though all good ideas, inspirations and will-to-finish will evaporate at a certain point. As though my time and ability in that time to create is limited. I am rushed and panicked. Or am I procrastinating, wandering until I stumble on the perfect conditions for writing. Perfect conditions such as the Harrison Street Café? Vegan menu, delicious ice tea, mild conversation from 20 somethings, and a dark booth staring out the enormous row house front. This place is marvelous. And how great would it be for Harrison Street Café to say “Tiffany wrote that big novel here in booth 24”. I could make this place world famous. Or perhaps their delicious tofu barbeque will do that for them before my fame.

Secondly I am thinking Sarah Palin. She has pulled a lot of thoughts into my head lately. Thoughts that I like McCain, I like his integrity and his war heroism. I like less taxes and smaller government. I like that Palin is a working mom, just like me. But I also feel tremendous pressure to cast my vote carefully for the good of all women. And her pro-life agenda does not support women. It shames them and puts them in situations of desperation. Because the facts are, whether abortion is legal or not, women will be seeking to terminate unwanted pregnancies as they have since the beginning of time. We women have such a burden in motherhood, one that society judges us constantly. I don’t know Sarah, I just can’t take the future from women across our country. I just can’t deny them the right to succeed in life. As if our population wasn’t robust enough without unwanted children raised by unwilling, or poor, or young mothers. I just can’t condone any belief that would limit women’s ability to have choices.

This place is dark, dimly lit, and I just heard the word “creativity” and “your making choices when your creating even if your imitating it will always have a different voice”, the top parts of the wall are painted terra cota, low hanging lights, dark wood paneling up to a chair rail, and the blissful light shining in the warehouse tall windows from Harrison Street. Magazines and books for review. Hooks for bags. Low harmonic music. My fullness overcomes me. And it is officially time to return to work.

Twilight

2008-09-03T07:59:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading "New Moon" the second book in the Twilight series. Even though the book is written about teenagers I can't help but love the characters. It's a Romeo and Juliet story. Juliet is a normal girl like we all are, and Romeo is a hotty vampire. I like the book a lot and I think it's well written (slow in parts) but thoroughly enjoyable. This is the actress who plays the main character, Bella Swan. I like her hair color in this picture.

And the vampire, Edward is played by the cute guy from Harry Potter, he is British and apparently had to dumb down his accent to sound like a yank. yeehaw.

But what excites me most is the typography on the logo (yes, always the geek).

Can't wait to see movie. 12.12.08

Sculpture Park

2008-08-17T19:41:00.000-07:00

And we're off!

2008-08-15T14:45:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning at 4am I will packing my two little people in the car for a cross country excursion. I can't wait.

We've been looking forward to this for weeks now, driving west, getting out into the open, visiting the wilderness of South Dakota, Wyoming, Utah... I can't believe the day is almost here. And I am so moved that I am able to show my children these things that my father showed me as child. The mudpots of yellowstone, the fossilized bones of the badlands, the great salt lake mountains. But best of all, is our planned stop to Nebraska City. I nearly tremble thinking about it! I grew up in Nebraska and we spent many days at the Arbor Farm in Nebraska City making cider, learning how bees make honey, and presenting our own shabby quilts at the 4-H fairs. And now I, as a full on grown up, get to revisit these warm spots so rich with memories. And I get to share this with kids of my own! I can't wait.

Two fantastic websites

2008-08-14T14:56:00.000-07:00

I adore these designs....feminine yet sturdy.

I especially like the use of mixed media in this design. Hand drawn elements are the future for web design. They add a personal quality to an impersonal, over saturated internet.

Sunday Evening Update

2008-08-10T16:35:00.000-07:00

It is Sunday evening and I am listening to Howard Shore scores. It rained for a few minutes, heavy thudding drops, the thick full plops burst against my skylight, leaving a dramatic splatter, and an even more dramatic echo throughout the loft area.

This weekend was surprisingly normal. I am working on making peace with normal. I doubt that all this self-induced drama is good for my future or my complexion.

Yesterday I had my hair thinned out, still trying to recover from helmet hair courtesy of my last hair dresser. I have tragically perfect hair, how hard can it be to cut?

I've nearly finished reading Twilight, which is fairly good for a teenage saga. I'm getting too old to read these sagas, and perhaps too old for the Miley Cyrus song I just uploaded to my iPod.

Today I took a lovely picture of a pinecone in the grass. It was staring at me. Saying "wouldn't I make a lovely image?" and I said "I've heard that one before, and then you switch the lighting and textures, by the time your image gets onto my computer it's unfixable." But something told me to try once more. And I am glad I did. I'm rather happy with the outcome.

Tomorrow means RedDot, and a full day of work. I'm excited to go in. I love my job. I only hope my boss thinks I am progressing as he hoped.

One more week then it's road trip time. I am looking forward to the open road and the peace and quiet of the Black Hills.

Payton's Birthday Cake

2008-08-10T08:28:00.000-07:00

Though we had her "friend's party" a week ago, today is the actual day of Payton's birthday. Today she is 10 years old. Double digits. She is the brightest star in my life. She is so full of natural kindness and selfless goodwill. I have never known a soul so pure. And I, at the age of 21, was entrusted to care for that angelic soul, and to try my best to keep the world from hardening her. A decade has past since her birth. I can't believe how time passes. And I can't believe how a beautiful child can become an even more beautiful person.

Chris baked her a cocoa cake and made butter cream frosting. Payton decorated the cake herself and it was lovely!

Happy Birthday Payton!

Splendid Garden

2008-08-09T16:22:00.000-07:00

I am astounded, nearly to tears, seeing food grow from the soil in my backyard. Real, edible, plump vegetables. I watched them from seed to bloom, and I never tire of watching the tomatoes ripen on the vine. This display of nature bursting forth with and without the aid of a caring hand and plentiful garden hose, is a true miracle which our family has brought to life.

The Wheelbarrow Fire

2008-08-08T16:17:00.000-07:00

We had a bonfire tonight, in a wheelbarrow in the backyard. Chris says we are true rednecks now! The fire burned up some brush I pulled out of the garden and lasted about 30 minutes.

Payton's Party

2008-08-06T16:13:00.000-07:00

Payton had her 10th birthday party at the park with 500 of her friends this past weekend. It was a luau and so fun!

I tried to boil eggs for the potato salad, but alas even this can be screwed up!

The luau begins!

Ryland, my nephew

More Flowers!

2008-08-05T16:08:00.000-07:00

A trunk full of flowers!! (and a new garden hose!!!)

Oh the joy of black eyed susans! I saw a yellow finch perched on the bud of my flowers, feeding on the seeds.

This weekend I sprayed painted my lawn chairs to match the house! They turned out fantastic!

These violent delights have violent ends

2008-08-05T15:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had to say goodbye to a huge part of my life. Something that brought me immeasurable joy has come to an end by my own doing. It was, in fact, a violent delight, but as is often coupled with such intense emotions, it frequently found me sobbing in private moments, circling parking lots in my car.

It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden.
Romeo and Juliet, 2. 2

The love which I loved with was not matched by my object of affection. It felt for me, the minimalist love to bring me hope that someday the bud would bloom. But such buds that lie dormant 3 years later wither in their bud state, and eventually turn towards a brighter sun.

And I couldn't bear to see that happen.

Tempt not a desperate man.
Romeo and Juliet, 5. 3

It seemed if I loved well enough, if I fed with the deepest waters of my soul, perhaps the object of my affection would agree that a garden could, no, should grow in a love-luster world. But mine was desperation of the heart, and his was pragmatism of the mind. And of course, his heart never got to the place mine was.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Romeo and Juliet. ACT II Scene 6.

And the light went out when I realized I was boxed in with a shelf life. I could not convince myself that portioning the heart was ever a good idea. Because I was taught when you love something, you love it all the way.

For stony limits cannot hold love out.
Romeo and Juliet. ACT II Scene 2.

Therefore I killed it on a hot August evening, when I would have preferred drinking lemonade and watching the children ride bikes in the driveway. In my car, circling parking lots, I killed us, past and future.

And though I protest it, I'm fairly certain tomorrow the sun will rise and another day will begin.

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
Romeo and Juliet. ACT I Scene 4.

David Eatock's Mini Manifesto

2008-08-01T10:27:00.000-07:00

David Eatock's Mini Manifesto

Begin with ideas
Embrace chance
Celebrate coincidence
Ad-lib and make things up
Eliminate superfluous elements
Subvert expectation
Make something difficult look easy
Be first or last
Believe complex ideas can produce simple things
Trust the process
Allow concepts to determine form
Reduce material and production to their essence
Sustain the integrity of an idea
Propose honesty as a solution

Pondering life...and garbage

2008-08-01T08:47:00.000-07:00

I adore working in the city. While walking into work I make a mental note of the trash on the street. It's typical to see beer bottles and pizza boxes. But ever so often I encounter an odd piece of trash which is fascinating enough to record in my Moleskine. So far here is a list of the interesting trash articles I recorded.

broken hot pink flower barrett
DeLux DuRag
icy pop sleeve
plastic shower curtain ring
crushed cigar case
barbie doll head

In June a squirrel died on Gilmer Street. I don't know how it died, the body was pretty well intact. Perhaps it ate bad trash and died of a stomach bug. The squirels in this town are ragged with shredded tails and caved bellies.

The squirrel died right on the side of the street, little paws reaching towards the curb. I saw the squirrel on a Thursday. I was looking for parking but refused to park on top of the dead squirrel. By the Monday the corpse was covered in flies, steaming in the summer heat. Again I would not park here, and it appeared, nobody else would either. By Thursday the squirrel had decomposed, it's canine teeth showing long through the decayed upper lip. Just a few flies circled the squirrel now. It's ribs showed through the translucent dead skin. Only patches of fur remained on it's head and tuft where his tail once was. By the following Wednesday the squirrel was only bits of bones, garbage and street grime burned into the blacktop. Then the sweeper trucks came around on their monthly clean up, and all traces of the squirrel were washed away.

I apologize for the morbidity of that story. It struck me deeply, how science ultimately conquers the art and love we create in life. Perhaps in the end, all this heartache is nothing that can't be cleaned up by a city street sweeper. I realize I know nothing about my great great grandmother. Does anybody?

Because as I am living this life, as I am experiencing miracles and blessings I want it to make a difference in the universe. I fear that the only traces of how we lived our life is the trash blowing down Broad Street on a July morning in 2008.

All this trash. What can we contribute to this macrocosm that will be tangible but not material. How will my great great grandchildren know I was here and that I loved and lived and achieved?

Oh it tickles me fancy

2008-07-31T19:51:00.000-07:00

I am a massive fan of this woman's art:

My particular favorite

She and I have the same drawing and mixed media style. I am going to learn her process right now.

A-Z Gratitude

2008-07-31T18:44:00.000-07:00

I was reading a chapter from The Creative Family about gratitude. I love the idea of remembering my blessings, as sometimes I can be greedy and grouchy at my lack of...

The author suggests using a scrap of brown paper to write the letters A-Z and then by each letter, listing something your grateful for. I thought I would try this quickly before my laptop battery dies:
A-Amazon.com, B-Blueprint Magazine, C-Cascading Style Sheets, D-Domino Magazine, E-Etsy.com, F-Family, G-Goodwill, H-Heather (my sister), I-Ice Cream, J-JQuery (opens a new world of interactivity), K-Khakis (they match everything), L-Love (I've got tons and tonnes), M-Money (it smells good), N-Namaste, O-Onion (favorite satire), P-Payton (my first daughter who made us a family), Q-Quality Time (alone or with friends), R-Rest (from negative thinking), S-Samantha (who got my old job and was excited about it!), T-Tiffany&Co. Turquoise boxes, U-Umbrellas, V-Venus, W-Windsheild wipers, X-X's and O's, Y-Yangtze River, Z-Zebra stripping.

Now let's flickr it:

Wow, really?

2008-07-31T05:20:00.000-07:00

So I went online to Macys.com to check out Coach's flower print tote, and I received this message:

We'll be right with you. It's a little crowded in here right now, and to make sure everyone enjoys shopping with us, we're asking new visitors to wait here for a few moments...we'll refresh your browser and welcome you momentarily...

Ha! I guess they figure if you wait in line at the store you can wait online to access their website.

The nerve!

As if I can't buy this tote from 20 other places online, including ebay! I'm sure the volume on ebay is MUCH higher than Macys.com and I've never been told to take a number.

Maximalism

2008-07-30T06:38:00.000-07:00

I am such a massive fan of maximalism. It started in my subconscious, I didn't recognize it as love, only a general fondness of new design ideas.

I've always been a tremendous fan of magical realism, and thinking about it now, magical realism is just form of maximalism, excess and decadence.

In the 90's I rested with the simplicity of zen design, scrubbed my bamboo floor, whitewashed my walls, pulled the shades tight over my windows, and disposed of all my possession except a solitary bonzai in the corner of an empty room. Even my design was as simple and white as possible:

But one day a couple of years ago, someone had slashed holes in the zen wall and it was bleeding a rainbow of vector curves, and I LOVED it.

The catholic church will not be happy with my indulgence!

I remember buying the first version of Maximalism: A Design Study in 2006. What a great concept!

As design trends do, that concept was worked on, deconstructed, remolded, and reproduced in it's final sleek form.

Here are some websites to love, which represent two of my favorite design tricks: maxamilism and mixed media.

Free People

Spring Time in Tennessee

But how does someone create a maximalist design without it looking like it was thrown together?

Even maximalism has thresholds before it turns to chaos. Pushing those boundaries and still staying orderly is what successful maxamilist artists have mastered. And a proper grid always helps things stay in place.

Lipton

But alas, this is yet another trend like mehndi which will soon find it's way on the out list. While it's here I will lick it up like ice cream and indulge in it's layers of chewy goodness.

Meat Packaging

2008-07-29T08:56:00.000-07:00

I ran into this image:

on a website talking about texture. The website article was horrible,but the image was right on. How clever! Now get me a cleaver! Yum...meat.

Okay, so even a vegetarian can find cuteness in this slab of meat peeking through the cut-out shape of a cow. Who knew meat could be marketed in a fancy way that makes us all laugh saying "Yes it's dead animal flesh, but look at the darling package!"

This has got me thinking that maybe, just maybe, a company who would take such care in the image of their product may also take care in the preparation of that product. For instance Tiffany & Co jewelery comes packaged in a small turquoise box with a satin white ribbon. Opening the Tiffany & co. box is a treat, what a presentation! And you know the quality packaging is to protect and display the quality of the article inside.

So maybe, the quality packaging of this beef also symbolizes the quality of life the cow had before it was put down. Maybe it signifies the cleanliness of the slaughterhouse, and the sanitary conditions of the factory line and processing departments.

But is it true then, that quality packaging will reveal a quality product? Do companies with high standards open their pocket book more to get a quality designer? Or is this just a gimmick to get the consumer to buy a cheap cut of meat?

Either way, this package is clever and the designer should win awards.

One of My Favorite Photographers

2008-07-29T05:13:00.000-07:00

His name is Miles Aldridge. And you won't find much about him on his home page since he reserves this space for a simple slideshow of his portfolio.

A little warning however, he photographs a woman's body without conventional modesty.

His photographs are juicy and colorful, the models are whimsical and almost surreal. But he has a definite understanding of fashion, and portrays slick glamour throughout all of his photographs.

I love his use of contrast, focal point, and texture. And of course the pairing of unlike objects to create striking patterns of deeper meaning.

Hey lady, don't catch your hair on fire!

Slimquick Buzz

2008-07-28T13:44:00.000-07:00

Today I learned a few important lessons:

Importing pdfs and docs into CMS is easiest if you use a text editor

Placing a lemon wedge below the ice in a diet coke results in maximum citrus flavor

Most heart attacks occur between 10 and 11 AM

Thank God it is nearly five. Today I ate lunch with Angelica at Qdoba. While sitting there 4 out of my 7 workmates walked in one at a time. Apparently it was Qdoba day for the office. And even though I did not get the memo, I looked as if I knew the deal.

Angelica and I shared a brownie which was delicious, and in my opinion, the taste of chocolate soothes my soul, and therefore is health food.

This morning was mysecond week on SlimQuick. Last week I took one pill in the morning and one pill in the afternoon. The second week you double up, two pills in the morning and two in the afternoon. No problem right? Well, actually.... Each "serving size" has the amount of caffeine as two cups of coffee. I was buzzing a caffeine high even before I arrived at work. And when I got in I realized that Fritz had brought in my favorite Vermont Free Trade coffee from Ellwood Thompsons. And he had just brewed a fresh pot. So I drank three cups of the Vermont coffee. By lunch time I was spastic, like the boy who was raised with the bees. It only made sense to drink 2 glasses of fully caffeinated Diet Coke.

Angelica "How was your weekend?"
Me "Myweekendwasgreatwehadapartyforpaytonandallherfriendsbroughthergreatgiftsandthenweatepizzaandwatchedamovieandthenwewentswimmingandthenitwaslateandchloewasstungbymosquitosandcriedandthenmyinlawstookthemtotheirhousefortheweekend..."

PHEW!
By 2pm I hit the wall, had a massive headache, and a stretch of yawning that I couldn't shake.

Did you know noon is the best time to push through a deal? Or sign a house? Or come up with a creative idea?

So I decided I would skip my second dose of SlimQuick as I still have energy enough to make it through the night.

Some folks from NYC are coming down to Richmond to hold a training next week. They sent me an email asking if we had a projector. One of these?

No dummy, one of these:

Don't you miss those transparency projectors?
I learned about Sex Ed and Chlorophyll on those projectors. One year in school I sat next to the projector and could smell the white board marker my teacher used to write notes directly onto the glass of the projector. I thought those machines were the coolest. We borrowed one from the YMCA to project a Winnie the Pooh picture onto the wall and trace it for a mural. I remember learning with glee that you could run transparencies through a copier. I bought 4 boxes of transparencies for work. And I never used any of them. I'm sure they are sitting in some file drawer over there on Franklin Street.

Speaking of that old job I realized what the ex-monster reminds me of. You know when you borrow a jacket from a friend whose parents are chain smokers, and then you put that jacket in your dirty clothes and it smells up all your laundry? Thats what that monster reminds me of. Hubby said she had a picture of my BFF on her wall. Not sure what thats about....she sucks.

At 5pm the liver metabolizes alcohol most efficiently.

Tonight my in-laws have the kids so we will be eating chocolate for dinner.
Maybe we'll watch a Rated R movie. Haha. And wash OUR clothes instead of the kids. I can't wait.

Another site to be addicted to....

2008-07-28T10:36:00.002-07:00

Some developers are so clever!!

Here is what I did with text from "Love in the Time of Cholera":

Create your own at Wordle.

Photo Funia

2008-07-25T17:29:00.000-07:00

Here's Payton! How cute is this? Or maybe creepy with those old lady hands!

I'm addicted to Photo Funia!!

Here is Coco.

This is way addictive.

Mixed Media Quilt - Too Cute!!

2008-07-22T18:01:00.000-07:00

Aunty Cookie from Australia created this adorable quilt.

Apartment Therapy featured pictures from her house on their blog. This chick has style! What I love about her quilt is the mix media feel, the terry cloth fabric, adjacent to the quilting squares of unusual fabric, and then what looks like 3 measuring tapes side by side. Que Bueno!

Bluelines...Argh

2008-07-22T14:24:00.000-07:00

I found these lovely banners on the now extinct Bluelines blog.

Aren't they just fantastic!!

Bluelines is a blog spin off of my favorite ever magazine: Blueprint. This magazine is gorgeous. And it's also recently discontinued! Sob. It's a Martha Stewart magazine and I suppose she determined it was just too fluffy for her starched back style.

The typography and images (and content too) were breath taking.

I wrote a letter to Martha asking her to reinstate the magazine. I hope my letter convinces her that there are some desperate women with newly formed hole in their heart.

New Furniture!!

2008-07-21T15:38:00.000-07:00

I remember reading in a Martha Stewart catalog that Pottery Barn sold classy looking furniture for a price that middle income Americans can afford. The funny thing is, I thought Pottery Barn was way expensive.

And I still do.

So I finally have nearly enough funds (minus those I owe in back taxes) to buy the two items I've been wanting for 2 years.

The couch:

With this throw:

And the chandelier:

The couch we have now is so country its scary, red white and blue plaid with X's and O's. Omg. I saw the couch on that 1980s movie "Overboard" in the nasty redneck house occupied by dirty, tasteless men. But it's comfortable. We bought it in 1997 from a family member who had it handed down to him from someone who had it handed down to them. There is no telling how old this thing is, but I'll peg it at 30. Manufactured the year after I was born.

A couple of years ago I worked at Pottery Barn for a second Christmas job. I enjoyed working there. The best part was that employees got a 40% discount off of everything at Pottery Barn, Pottery Barn Kids, William and Sonoma, and West Elm. I spent twice what I made. I wanted the couch then, but couldn't afford. Now I wish I still worked there!!

Hello, this is Harold

2008-07-21T10:53:00.000-07:00

Harold just called. Who is Harold? Harold is the guy I left a message for 3 weeks ago. And apparently he took his sweet ass time calling back.

Harold is a CTE certified personal trainer at Wolfgang's gym. "I just got this message," he says, "I look forward to meeting you and offering any information that can help you with your marathon training."

Harold, I can probably guess the first tip you would give me: "Get up off your butt and run a mile."

Good lord of thunder thighs...Is it fair for a vegetarian to have cellulite? Shouldn't that be reserved for people who scarf fried chicken and T-Bone steaks?

But these chubby cheeks arn't a sign of physical fitness, even though once upon a time I was capable of running a 10k.

I am learning something about myself. I fear letting go. But once I do I realize that I don't miss what I let go if I rearrange my habits to fill that void that is left behind. Take myspace...I thought I would miss myspace like my left arm. But then I started this blog and I found dozens of new friends and worthwhile blogs to read. It was as if by letting go of my dependency I opened up a door to room full of miracles. Now I must remember this, when I make my next drastic cut from the negative parts of my life.

Because shouldn't our focus be making ourselves and our friends happy during this short life?

Shouldn't I swallow the pill that Harold took 3 weeks to call me back, and find hope in his reassuring kind, confident voice?

Shouldn't I stop hating all men? Shouldn't I stop hating my body, and ruing the fact that I don't have my sister's body type?

Ugh but getting off the chair to run a mile, can I really muster up the energy to do that?

Can I let go of my lazy Sunday mornings in exchange for a hard core 10 mile run through a humid downtown street? Can I give up my grilled cheese in exchange for celery and asparagus? Can I really be expected to wake up at 4:30am in order to make this dream of finishing a half marathon a reality for me?

Saturday Chore Time

2008-07-19T12:21:00.000-07:00

So this morning I thought it would be fun to torture the children.
My weapon of torture = chore list.

That's right, every Saturday morning I pull down the Chore Board and review all the incomplete chores of the week.

Funny enough, every week the children are able to complete the same number of chores before Saturday. Zero. So Saturday mornings have become a bonanza-fest of choredom. Today I took 2 colored index cards, wrote Payton and Chloes name on the top of their index cards, and told them each chore would earn them one smiley face sticker. If they earned 20 stickers we would buy them the plastic fish pool on sale at K-Mart. Ready, Set, Go. And Payton ran off to clean her room (which was worth 2 stickers since it was pretty messy).

Chloe on the other hand, could not be convinced away from pulling the paint off the walls. "Come on Chloe, you can earn smiley face stickers for your card!" I tried to encourage her. "Stickers! They are glittery! And if you earn enough we'll get you a baby pool to play in!"

Six threats and 2 timeouts later her room was clean enough, which is to say my encouragement was in the grey level where anything goes. For goodness sakes, she is only four! ( I use this line when my patience has run out)

Chloe's chore list became sparse. While Payton was dusting the furniture and watering the garden for 1 sticker, Chloe was putting one piece of clothing in her dirty clothes. Good job! Here is a sticker. Now put your shoes on and that's worth 2 stickers!

I even gave the lazy bones husband 3 stars for pulling himself away from WoW long enough to vacuum the floor.

After 3 hours of cleaning, encouraging and bargaining with the children to pitch in, I left the house for a break to clean my car, wash, vacuum, amoral, even new coconut air freshner!

When I got home they were all huddled up around the TV watching Drake and Josh. "Seriously?" I said, "Did you finish your chores?" I was not happy. How did I get blessed into this task master role??

At the end of another hour, the girls racked up enough stickers to buy the pool. I gave myself 15 stickers for cleaning the mildew out of the shower because that was wretched. My reward was lunch at Chili's.

Chili's....I ask the waitress, do you have any vegetarian dishes? "Vegatarians dont eat at Chili's" she said. "Well I'm here, and I was planning to eat!" I said. "You could get the nachos," she suggested. "They don't have meat?" I asked. "No, they don't." "Okay, I'll take them," I said.

30 minutes later I bite into a cheesy jalapeno ladened nacho chip. What is that chewiness? None other than hamburger meat. Ick. "Excuse me this has meat." "Oh I told them no meat, I'll get new ones." Hmmm, turns out the meat is in the cheese. So I ordered veggie fajitas and took them to go. I was totally traumatized by my meat encounter. What was worse, the waitress didn't comp the meal. Did you hear about that guy in India who sued Taco Bell for giving him a beef burrito instead of a bean one?

Then we drive to K-Mart to get the baby pool for the kids. Chris takes one look at the pool which is sitting outside of K-Mart's entrance. "That isn't going to fit in the car." "I'll carry it home," I said because I told the kids they could have this pool and I was determined to keep my word. Chris drives off with Chloe, and Payton and I carry the pool inside to the register.

"How much was this pool?" the cashier asks.
"Um, it said $15.99."
"$16 is too much to pay for this. Good news, its on sale for $11," she says.
"Cool!"

Then Payton and I start the mile hike home, holding a gigantic plastic pool over our heads. We must have looked super redneck carrying that thing down the streets. Children pointed, old people on their porch shook their heads. A couple of times the wind caught the pool and sent it flying into neighbor's yard. But overall the walk was fun, despite the 100 degree heat, we were in good spirits when we got home.

The kids played in the pool for an hour, then went with Chris to Brewsters, where he brought me back a much craved mint chocolate chip ice cream with peanut butter cups, whipped cream and cherries. I ate 3 bites and was done. Though it was right delicious, I am curbing the calories and the eating out.

Full Moon Tonight

2008-07-18T13:29:00.000-07:00

Tonight is a full moon. No wonder I have been utterly unproductive today. Everyone knows that a full moon means strength for people of the water tribe. And guess what? I am the queen of my own mythical water tribe called "Yada Yada".

Anyway, this means four things:
1. I can't be bothered to pay attention
2. I need a paint brush and an avocado
3. I only prefer the taste of orange flavored trident
4. Chris is taking me out to dinner tonight

Everything I have tried to accomplish today has been completed with smashing success. Thanks moon!

However, usually, sliding down the full moon's ray comes Aunt Flow for her 5 day visit. Maybe she will take a vacation this month, it is summer after all.

New Blog Design coming

2008-07-18T09:07:00.001-07:00

I feel tremendous pressure to get my blog layout developed. I am, after all, a web designer and creative genius. So why do these personal projects take so long to start and are almost always abandoned before completion?

I know the design I am looking for...the theme is "good typography"...the end. The whole site must contain nothing but fantastic wizard fonts and spacing.

I use the word "wizard" to mean stellar not like wizard font:

...shudder....

I see potential in this page layout though it doesn't much look like anything yet. Maybe mixed with a little of this page's ideas as far as structure (not a fan of the minimalism), and with all the elegance found here. I want to have the feel of a 19th century newspaper, cleanly updates with breathable class. Oh and I am keeping my dreamy images. And I am using a splash of orange here and there. So who knows how this will turn out. Lemme at the Moleskine.

Quick look at above links:

I also am flirting with starting a separate blog for my design chatter, and keeping this one personal...I've yet to find anyone interested in reading both aspects of my life. :)

The Big Migration

2008-07-16T07:05:00.000-07:00

Sometime early July, I thought it would be fun to cancel my myspace account and start fresh on blogger (where stupid mind games and friend ranking bullshit does not exist). My favorite part of myspace was blogging, and I had a small but faithful following of readers who were very kind. Well now baby, I am out in the big world of the web. I am no longer hidden behind a password protected, friends-only blogsphere. But upon canceling my myspace I also lost all of my readers, so that sucks. Nevertheless, I am a military brat and I love starting over.

The day I canceled my account I tried to save my blogs. I only saved about 200, the other 1,000 or so are gone gone into the oblivion of 2005-2006. Ho hum. I am saddened, but still 200 blogs is quite a task to move.

So it's taking me a while, between work and work and the kids, to get all these old blogs online. No I haven't been here since January 2007. I just got here July 10, 2008 but my history is moving with me.

Hello to all my new friends, a new life of living out loud on blogger. Shia shia.

Someone fix the system so I can get back to work

2008-07-15T08:24:00.001-07:00

I am back at work today after a brief fairytale stint in NYC. With all my fascination and last minute trips to this city, one might ask, why don't you just move there? I am afraid to. Like a boyfriend you adore until you marry him and find out he doesn't wash dishes and leaves his clothes on the bathroom floor.

What if New York leaves it's clothes on the bathroom floor? What if this magical land of endless wonder turns out to be nothing more than pollution, foreigners and rats? As long as I dip into New Yorks pool just up to my ankle I will never be saddened by the hard truth of commitment.

I am impatient today, mostly because I have more to-do bullets than completed check marks. The CMS program isn't running properly and I have a presentation I need to get done. I want it working now now now. Don't those server gurus understand the gravity of my situation?

One of my must-dos during my 24 hour trip to the Big Apple was visit the danish artist waterfall display. "Take me to the Brooklyn Bridge waterfalls on the Seaport" I asked the cabby. Twenty minutes later I looked out the window of the taxi and caught my first glimpse. Wow. My skin turned into a mass of goose pimples. Really one must see this art in life, hear the water rushing, feel the rumble of the traffic above. Art? So this is how art is supposed to make you feel. Like a miracle just occurred in your heart but you can't define how it will change your tomorrow. Like two things which struggled (man and nature) have finally found peace right here in the busiest metropolitan. Olafur Eliasson, you can never imagine what this display has done for a big minded but closed-in Virginian girl.

Airports are icky

2008-07-13T06:44:00.000-07:00

Airports make me gross and sweaty. On the other hand, I find airplanes harsh, cold and frigid. And airline staff, irritable and hostile. Passengers are stuck, victims, in a chlosterphobic space with airline employees who hate you, they do hate you, why do they hate you? That’s a damn good question. Sure you paid $500 for a 1 hour flight but you, sir, will wait for your Fresca until the cart comes (10 minutes before landing).
Stewardess hate you, it’s part of the package, free drinks, peanuts and scowls. And what happened to the myth of the “hot stewardess”? Because for the last 5 years I have seen grandmothers, fat bald men, and a handful of witch school rejects. All scowling. Like sandpaper to the eyes.

Like this one time, a passenger asked for a puke bag, the stewardess scowls, says “Ya alright, just wait a minute” (Apparently she had important things to do on that 60 passenger plane. Well guess what? She didn’t come back for 10 minutes. By then his neighbor had given him his puke bag, and it was well used. The woman next to him offered some of her water, and I gave him a piece of gum. Lesson from US Airways: you are on your own, if you don’t want someone else’s puke on you, share your bag…
Then there was this one time the loading crew threw my suitcase out of the cargo area 30 feet to the cement below, upon which my suitcase wheels shattered resulting in 40 minute hold on the phone to customer service and a $100 voucher that is essentially useless since flights cost $400+.

Regardless of the lack of manners of the staff, the pilots on this flight were surprisingly funny. There is a difference between “staff” and “pilots”. The staff include the guys who waive the glow sticks, empty the toilets, work the call center from India, and serve the inflight coffee. These are a bunch of angry hateful individuals. The pilots however, tend to be professional and humorous. Today’s humor: “This is Steve from the cockpit flying with copilot Marie. She is a little nervous as this is her first flight. And I am a little nervous as this is my first flight too.” Hardy har har.

As soon as I found out the Marie was a virgin pilot, I immediately became a critic. The bumps, the accelerations, the landing she completely fumbled. But I wouldn’t have known the difference had her mentor not outed her.

But I’ve yet to get to the most fascinating part of this flight. There was a couple I simply could not keep from staring at. A Japanese business man in his late 50s and his wife? Girlfriend? Mistress? A 6-foot, 20 something, Russian speaking, blonde, Uma Thurman look-alike. She was knitting (OMG give me an f***ing break) and chatting about her country. He had his hand on her thigh, because at that age who can wait to touch a hot chick younger than your daughter. One word: MailOrderBride

But they looked happy. Like they really liked each other. And who am I to deny Fukiyaki and Uma of their happiness?

Depending on which side of the plane you are sitting when flying into New York City from DC, you either have an endless view of the ocean or an impressive view of America’s eastern coastline. I was on the coastline side, which meant I also had a perfect view of the city as we approached JFK. The virgin pilot graciously leaned the plane towards the sky affording my side of the plane a full arial view of this fantastic city. What a majestic view. I adore this area of NYC.

I always think this, until I am offended by the dirt on the sidewalks, the stench rising from the subway, the crowds of tourists…Get me out of that area into a borough or someplace less spoiled with flashing lights and theatrics.

Off topic: how old are girls wearing eyeliner these days? Because they look awful funny with all that charcoal on their baby face.

Right now I just finished eating a shrimp salad at Applebees in Time Square, I’m looking out the window at a 2 story high Panasonic Screen braced against the side of the building. All I can think is how many rooms lost their window light for that display? The hotel is nice, chilly, but comfortable. I am waiting for the bellboy to bring my bags “Please bring my checked bags to room 2511.” That’s the life for me. In India, normal suburban families have a “driver” who packs your laptop and carries it to the car for you. He picks up your dry cleaning and take-away food. He is on call 24/7 in case you want a pint of chunky monkey at 2am. Yay for population 1.3 billion.

Speaking of charcoal face I think I keep MAC makeup in business, I’m learning to overdo it so that I can eventually get a job at a MAC store in NYC.
Ciao mi bellarosas!

At pool party with kids....

2008-07-08T17:49:00.000-07:00

Me: Chloe do you have to go potty?
Chloe: Its okay mommy Ill just go in the pool

Meanwhile payton is eating her 7th piece of pizza. A word about payton, she eats 2 combo meals and ice cream then a banana because she is still hungry, yet she is 10 and less than 60 pounds, about the weight and height of a 5 year old. In fact she still wears a kids 6!

There are all types of parents here, some swimming with their kids some letting their kids eat pizza in the pool, some eating pizza in the pool while their kids go MIA, and then some typing on a blackberry...

We found a life jacket for chloe so she can go in the deep end with her sister. I'm not sure she needs it. The kid has no fear.

The sun has gone down behind the trees. Its actually chilly. A cold day in july.

Chris wants more kids, but I can't stand the thought of going 9 months without wine.
Nah, two is enough until I'm bored of being an alcoholic...

Peabody Peabody Peabody!!

2008-07-03T17:51:00.000-07:00

I am at the Hotel Peabody. Peabody's "thing" is ducks. Their marketing cheif should be fired for his shameless use of duck imagery. Duck toothpicks, duck shaped soap, they even have, and I swear I am not making this up, real live ducks feeding and swimming from an enormous fountain situated in the atrium. Somehow the ducks are trained not to leave the fountain. They eat corn, splash in the water, and shit all over the floor. The fountain-poultry display serves as the centerpiece for the atrium restaurant, where I am sitting now drinking a glass of cabernet and sweating, because omg, "atrium" is code for sauna, all this garish unnecessary heat has me wondering…is it all for the ducks?

Ever so often a man, wearing a black apron with long tie strings that drag behind him like a wedding train, passes by with a squeegee and a yellow bucket. He is on duck poop patrol. He follows the ducks around the fountain cleaning up their green runny poo with his squeegee. Don't feed the ducks he tells a kid. Why have a duck display if you can't feed the damn things….they are so cute I want to let them sip from this wine glass.

I am reading this book called "100 Years of Solitude" but it might as well be called "THE MOST AWESOMIST BOOK IN THE WORLD". (I think it goes by that title in Calcutta and Singapore).

Anywho, I bought the sucker for a buck at a used book store. The book is yellowed, browned and tore up on a number of pages, which makes the reading a challenge.
But I adore a challenge as long as I can make shit up in the process. "Jose Arcadio Buendia ran into the room where his wife…" Hmm…cant read the text…"where is wife was….stripping the yellow wallpaper from the wall as she drooled puddles of blood from her mouth, carrying on her back a miniature portrait of Satan and his 12 illegitimate children."

(Another glass of cabernet? Um, no maybe some water at this point. Oh the poop guy just passed me and he smells really good, like honeysuckle and amberbach)

Why do old people do yoga? With their flatulence and gnarled feet? It ruins the experience for us young people who go to show off how hot we are in lotus position.

There are two old women with yoga mats who are stalking me. They keep circling the atrium, seriously what? What? WHAT? They know I am typing about them. Why do only old people have money?

The duck poop guy is back. "Please don't touch the piano" he says to the kiddos. Why have a piano feature if the kids can't bang on it? I think I may play on it later, I know how to play that song from Ameile.

Ameile was a fantastic movie.

When I was 6 my cousins from Mexico came to visit us in Texas. The oldest had never eaten waffles. He filled each hole with syrup, ate the waffle, and then puked on my mother's sofa. Then we played monopoly, and my brother, sister and I made fun of our two cousins because they said "yellow" like "jello". Hahaha you retards. Say it again say it again! Yellow! Yellow! Yellow!

Ah, childhood.

Now those two retards live in Europe, both have published books, one is finishing up his Ph.D. in architecture and the other is an attorney at law. And I am typing a meaningless blog to entertain you people. But I knew those fuckers when they thought yellow was jello…"Say yellow jello, say yellow jello" we would shout at them. And then they cried. And I felt bad. But not anymore.

BTW there is a wikipedia site on the Peabody Ducks. I was thinking about starting a wikipedia page on myself. How fun would that be? Like this dude..sure he invented AJAX but still, what else makes him so special that he needs his own wiki page?

Graphic Obsession with Graphic Novels

2008-07-01T17:52:00.000-07:00

I have found a new obsession in life.

comic books and graphic novels!!!

One day, during lunch, I went for a walk and passed Velocity Comics on Broad Street. I peeked in the windows and walked by.

The next time, I was with Chris during lunch, and feeling braver with him there, I decided to go in the store. The door wouldn't open. "Oh, you have to turn the handle up not down." I was in. I never made it passed the first rack of magazines before purchasing the most lovely zine I'd ever seen...a spin off of the comic book Kabuki.

Ay Dios Mio! What a miracle I have found. For 2 bucks this little mag was all mine. I am in mixed media heaven, a scrappy project, quirky quips and an unseeming plot. Bliss.

After devouring this bit of honey, I found myself desperate for more fan books. Today I spent most of my lunch hour feasting on hyper-illustrated covers, and storylines communicated with the briefest dialogue.

I bought two very girly books. The first was a graphic novel called Embroideries. The novel is written by the Iranian author who wrote and illustrated Persepolis.

This book was hysterical. Sort of the Joy Luck Club meets Sex in the City - except in Iran. Oh - and "embroideries" refers to women stitching their vagina to make themselves tighter in that area...perhaps even virginal again.

I also bought a quirky self-portrait comic book by Gabrielle Bell called Lucky. Gabrielle's abbreviated script often references her thoughts which can be somewhat melancholy and sarcastic, pointing out her feelings of self-doubt. But overall the comic book was amusing and bizarre. In Lucky Volume 2 Issue 1 she creates a most unusually random story including a giant, a cussing bird, a dog, a rat trap, some peanut butter, and that old familiar desire for the bad boy.

Before her main story begins she adds a few "diary pages" complete with illustrations. In these she tells about her fear of public speaking at comic book conventions, and her obsession with drawing.

All these fantastic ideas have me wanting to start a comic book of my own. I'm not much for drawing, but I have an eye for art. I think I can come up with something interesting and yet full of artistic merit. I'll keep you updated.

I'm for Hillary

2008-06-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

Today I read an article entitled "Women's group slams Kennedy for 'betrayl'".

Here are some of the highlights:

In a sharply critical statement, the New York state chapter of NOW took aim at Kennedy Monday for what it called an "ultimate betrayal," and suggested the Massachusetts Democrat "can't or won't" handle the idea of Clinton becoming President of the United States.

"Sen. Kennedy's endorsement of Hillary Clinton's opponent in the Democratic presidential primary campaign has really hit women hard," said the statement. "Women have forgiven Kennedy, stuck up for him, stood by him, hushed the fact that he was late in his support of Title IX, the ERA, the Family Leave and Medical Act to name a few."

"And now the greatest betrayal! We are repaid with his abandonment!" the statement continues. "He's picked the new guy over us. He's joined the list of progressive white men who can't or won't handle the prospect of a woman president who is Hillary Clinton."

But the NOW state chapter suggested Monday Kennedy's decision was a larger representation of society's ongoing disrespect for women's rights.

"This latest move by Kennedy is so telling about the status of and respect for women's rights, women's voices, women's equality, women's authority and our ability – indeed, our obligation — to promote and earn and deserve and elect, unabashedly, a president that is the first woman after centuries of men who 'know what's best for us.'"

This woman named Clara summed my feelings up perfectly in her response:

I am so dissapointed by the news media, particulary CNN and MSNBC…especially the news anchors Wolf and Chris…it is unbelivable just to feel the bias that exists against Hillary…it is ok when she is attacked ; but whenever she responds its not ok with you people…I think you guys have the fear of having someone who can actually change things when she gets there…so you have decided to back Obama because you know he wont get things done, that way nothing changes for you, which is what you want, with your fat paychecks…I just hope American people will wake up on this one…inspiration is not going to feed my kids or guarantee a better future for them..in Africa we say, when you aducate a woman you aducate the world…and this scares the hell out of you guys…for two hundred years we have men in the leadership and its time for a woman, because all these men including you, have been raised by the good women to get where they are and it just make sense to have a woman up there…God I hate Politics.

I have nothing more to say on this right now.

Am I a fraud?

2008-06-27T17:54:00.000-07:00

After a few days of creative block I start to believe that I am a fraud. I can't make gray go with black, too many things align, and this design looks like the last 10 layouts of 1993. I surfed the web for inspiration. Inspiration? Thats such a fuzzy concept. Also known as stealing others brilliancy...navigation structure, textured background...my God I am a fraud. An Andy Warhol. A Google ganker...

My head was stuffy, so I took a walk during lunch. Up and down Marshall Street, crossing the road here and there and then turning around and retracing my steps. The mechanic working on the Saturn VUE asked me if I was lost. "No not lost, just going nowhere."

Who is going to clean up all that trash on Marshall Street? Trash blown out of the garbage truck, dumpsters carelessly losing their cargo, vile filth, broken Barbie dolls with knotty hair, greasy pizza boxes, stray walmart bags. All this trash collecting against the temporary walls of Goshen and Gilmer Street. And these plastic bottles...when will those degrade?

My brother's wife had their third child last week. His name is Isequeal...I don't know how to spell that, I like the name, it rhymes with MySQL. After the baby was born my brother bought a motorcycle and today he took his 5 year old daughter fishing.

Back in the office I had a leak of ideas. Just a leak mind you, no waterfall. {consequently did you hear about the $15million waterfall feature some danish artist built in Manhatten?} The leak was enough to get underway with a design...my design. A design I designed. Now tomorrow I'll need to get in early to get ahead of that design...

Tonight I cooked a pound of scallops. I picked two warm cucumbers from Chris's garden and chopped them with some fresh basil and oregano. I marinated them in balsamic vinegar. Then I ate the whole pound of scallops with a glass of red wine.

Tomorrow I will organize the pieces of my world, I will get them all in the designated cubbies. But for tonight I have enough energy to read 1 bedtime story to the girls and fall asleep with my makeup on.

The Garden

2008-06-15T17:57:00.000-07:00

Hubby says "I'm going to plant a garden right here."

Me: "Yeah okay, nothing grows in this clay. You'll have to use store bought soil."

Hubby: "I am going to use this soil. And I am going to till the soil with my own hands" (Literally)

Me: "Ha Good luck!"

6 weeks later:

Cherry tomatoes:

Roma tomatoes:

Green beans:

Cucumbers:

Cucumber tendrils (aren't they cute!!):

Beautiful:

My contribution: the herbs. The parsley at the bottom of this picture has died :(

So if your tomatoes have salmonella in a few months, give me a call, we should have plenty (organic too!).

Bodega del Vino

2008-06-09T18:17:00.000-07:00

Oh good lord, I have come across a culinary miracle.
Who's idea was this? Who could have thought up such a delicious treat?

So I am sitting at Bottega del Vino on 59th and 5th and they bring out bread, seasoned with parsley, and a small dish of black goo.

I think, wtf is that? Caviar? Yuck, because you know caviar is fish eggs and I am a vegan (um, mostly…at least on Mondays).

But I figure I'm spending my first paycheck on this dinner I might as well try the fish larva…so I dip the miniature spoon in the black substance, and spread it across a small piece of bread, lift the bread to my mouth and….

Holy holy holy, this was NOT fish eggs, it was olive pate. Who thought of olive pate? Because I'm pretty sure he is the smartest most compassionate man alive, and deserve to win a Nobel Peace prize for this invention.

Too bad I'd already ordered a $20 antipasto and $40 mushroom tortellini because I could have made a night out of chowing on that olive pate.

Olive pate, yum, are you kidding me? It was heaven.

Oh and if you are looking for a vino in the price range of $5,000-$20,000 a bottle you can find it here as well. They also have Tiffany-priced wine which is delicious at about a $15/glass.

9 PM from the Big Apple

2008-06-08T18:19:00.000-07:00

I am in New York, again, this time on a business trip. The weather is brutally hot. I ate lunch at a small expensive sandwich shop on the SeaPort, the restaurant was crowded, the server sat me on a corner of an already occupied table. My dinner mates were from Ireland, but I was weary and not in the mood to hear tell of their family vacation so I opened my computer and did an impressive job of acting occupied through lunch.

But there was one thing I couldn't help but notice. The young girl (she was probably 15) was wearing a shirt with her bra showing in the back. The straps of her bra were twisted. It looked painful to the point when I couldn't stop myself from offering to straighten her out. "Would you like me to untangle your bra strap?" I asked her. She laughed and said yes. It was a strange thing of me to ask, and a strange thing for her to accept. But it didn't seem to bother either of us, as two women who have to deal with these inconveniences in life. I fixed it, she was grateful, I paid my bill and walked out onto the boardwalk.

Along the way back to the hotel, I stopped in Borders bookstore on Wall St and Broadway to get out of the oppressive heat that had settled over New York. I ordered a Dean and Deluca large ice tea, I drank the entire cup without stopping to breath. I would have asked for another but there were no free refills and the tea had cost 4 bucks and tasted old and filmy.

Borders was a fitting place for me to spend an afternoon. I collect books in the manner that some women collect shoes. I adore books, but more like a piece of art, rarely finding time or patience to read more than a few lines.

For this reason, and because I commute 40 minutes each way to work, I greatly enjoy books on tape. My all time favorite is a delicious little novel … Eat, Pray, Love.

Though I obviously own this book on cd, I like typography, oh and cracking book binds. For months I've wanted to buy a paper copy of that book, for a specific purpose that might make some cringe, cover your ears at this part, I want to own a paper copy of this book so that I can cut out pages and post them in my journal. Really I need two copies, in case I cut one side but needed the text from the other side of the page too. Throwing myself in front of the morality book train a little more forcefully, I admit to you that I have already cut up a number of well written book passages that have made my heart patter, including, sigh, a couple of passages from Genesis out of two gently used Bibles.

So I'm looking at Eat, Pray, Love, and it's $15, no discount. And I'm thinking about my favorite passage in which she describes a beautiful Venetian woman who fell in love with a man who left her with three children and a broken heart. The author describes the woman as saying "He was powerful, and I died of love in his shadow."

This passage makes my intestines wiggly. It moves me profoundly into a state of sad irrepair. I want to cut this passage out and paste it in my journal so that I can mourn with this woman, in an emo trance I'll call poetry.

But $15 just to mutilate this book for a passage… is that sound commerce?…. I pick up the book, fan the pages against my palm, (this is a strange habit I have which allows me to feel the energy of the book without reading it, quacky I know, bite me), and then I bend the paperback up and down looking at the cover. I opened up the book somewhere in the middle of the tale, and am baffled to look down at the words "He was powerful, and I died of love in his shadow." By dumb chance I'd turned right to the passage that I'd been mulling over for the last 15 minutes, and honestly I'd been mulling over for the last 15 months since I initially heard those words.

I don't need to tell you folks, that's some kinda magic.

Nevertheless, I didn't buy the book. Instead I picked up 2 books on graphic design and the latest Chuck Palahniuk novel.

I opened the 15 foot high doors, with relative ease, and walked out on the Manhattan streets, shoving the Borders bag into my massive yellow tote. And then I realized it was raining, pouring rain, and the road was steaming from the days heat. Street vendors quickly wrapped up the watches, t-shirts, and handbags on their tables, and replaced them with umbrellas and rain ponchos. Witnessing this efficient crossover of goods, I concluded that New York street vendors have perfected the art of opportunism. Wall Street indeed.

Back at the hotel I ordered an overpriced Margareta pizza from a local pizza oven, and cuddle under the covers to review my new books and tomorrows agenda. It's fairly quiet here, just the hum of the AC units, and distant murmur of traffic. I miss my kids. I call Chris for the 4th time today but he gets annoyed so I leave him alone and decide to live here in this hotel room for the next 2 days easing into my loneliness… After all, I've been away from home before. I can do this.

I'm still in bed now, next to an empty pizza box, trying to hack into some locals wifi so that I can post this blog. I haven't hacked in yet, but I did find out that Microsoft Word can spell check Palahniuk's name…impressive, eh? Goodnight everyone.

Life on My New Planet

2008-05-28T18:20:00.000-07:00

I started my new job Tuesday. So far I only have one reaction: I love it here. The ship has landed. I am home.

Yesterday I arranged myself in my new cubical. A cube! How exciting! Since starting at VCU 9 years ago I have moved from job to job and always had my own office. Now, I have a cubical. So does my boss, and my boss's boss. I have come to understand that in the techy world we all have cubicles. And my new cube is magnificent. A large clean workspace. One wall made of white board backing. Two built in bookshelves, and my own locker area. I also have a trash can and a recycling can that are emptied every night. At most VCU offices the trash cans are emptied once a week.

My monitor is enormous, I unpacked it yesterday in the same way Nigella Lawson might unpack a sleeve of butter. My computer came in this morning, sexy gorgeous beast of a computer. Connecting the apple monitor to the apple laptop is like pouring honey into milk. Together they form the most beautiful miracle since the birth of my daughters.

Yesterday was my first staff meeting experience. 9 people. I should say 8 men and me. The only girl. Excuse me, woman. Let me introduce the ones I remember.

Don Hu - The work horse/guru of the crowd. Speaks english but I can't understand a darned thing he says. When watching President Bush give a speech he seems really entertained. Not sure what this means yet. I will keep you posted.

Jim (aka Boss) - Smiles a lot. Sandwiches thoughts between anecdotes. For instance: "This friend of mine sells foam to spray on military tents in Iraq which would cut the energy costs by 95%. Make sure you call Tim about that glitch in the LDAP system. I golfed at the most expensive golf course in Richmond this weekend. Let me tell you, that was a rip off."

The Borg - This consists of two people. For purposes here I will call them The-Man-Who-Collects-Dancing-Hampsters and A-Guy-Whos-Desk-Defies-Gravity. Collectively they call themselves "The Borg". "Well actually," they say taking turns between each word, "we are quasi-borg. You don't know what a Borg is? Star Trek. The Borgs share a brain. Their slogan is 'We will assimilate you' and ours is the same, but quasi because it's also 'We will assist you'". I am amazed but try to be clever in my response: "You assist them in assimilation?" They thought this was quite funny. Score!

Attitude Man - You know that guy....that guy when you say "Biology called, they need a new server" who follows that up with "Thats because they blew the last one with their so-called Science." Or "Humanities and Sciences needs assistance with their DNS change." And he quips "That's not all they need. They need to clear out those morons that work there." Yeah, that sums him up pretty well. Not sure what this means yet. I will keep you posted.

Two Nice Guys - There are two very nice guys. They are the closest to my age. Everyone else is in their 40's plus. These two are early 30s and they are nice. Yeah. That's all I have on them.

Right now I am eating lunch in the massive kitchen in this building. It's gorgeous. Every wall in this building is painted a different (normally offensive) color. Puke green. Violent orange. But together the ugly colors work together creating an energizing environment. The ceiling in open. Air vents hang above. I love this place.

What is your Salary?

2008-05-20T18:21:00.000-07:00

I am eternally curious about how much money people make...my neighbor, my car salesman, my dermatologist. I am so curious (one might call it intrusively nosey) that I feel required to spurt out to my hairstylist: "So exactly how much of this sixty bucks comes back to you?"

It's a shallow and crass habit, I accept that judgement, I wear that letter.

I blame it on consumerism, capitalism, and an insaitable need to know how business works. What is skimmed off the top? How much of my $60 goes to the hairstylist? how much to her boss? and how much to the man?

How much of her money goes to rent? Does she have a roommate? Children? What are the mechanics of her day to day? How much debt does she have? What kind of assests has she secured against her debt? What are her future goals? Does she always want to be a stylist or maybe one day own her own salon? And then of course there is the question, why is she giving me that I-am-going-to-slap-this-intrusive-bitch look?

This thought train started from a CNN article explaining the Clinton vs. Obama voting pool. Median household incomes under $50K per year go to Hillary. Above $50K go to Obama.

So what does that really mean? How many households are under $50K? Basically, are there enough poor folk in Oregon that Hillary could have a chance of winning???

I wiki'd it. (because university professors all agree that wikipedia is the most reliable source of information in existance...that was sarcasm, please don't spam me).

The average household income in the US is.....drum roll.....$48,201. (Go HRC!)A household income means total earners in house over 15, so in my house that would be the combination of 2 salaries. (Well three salaries if we convince Chick-fil-a that Payton is 15, and not 9 years old, and fully old enough and intelligent enough to fry chicken.)

The average household income in VA? $55,368. Such over-achievers!

So broken down to stats that matter more to me.

Male with high school diploma: $28,763
Female with high school diploma: $15,962
Male w/ bachelors: $50,916
Female w/ bachelors: $31,309

(Dude whats up with the men folk making so much more than us women??)

I am pretty shocked, given my collected data from real world cases, that with a college degree women only average $31,309. Even with a doctoral degree women still average about $53K. Wow.

I'm not going to share the men's salary, let's just say it's nearly double in some areas to the womens...you can see it for yourself here.

So the next time I break the language barrier to ask my asian dry cleaning lady how much of that $1.95 shirt cleaning charge goes into her personal pocketbook, I'll be sure to impressed when she tells me her annual salary is $92,000 and she is in the top 5% of women earners in Virginia.

And I am not.

Shia Shia.

Last Tuesday at SOE

2008-05-19T18:23:00.000-07:00

Today is my last Tuesday at my current job. A random Tuesday would appear insignificant but then I think about the number of Tuesdays over the last 3 years that I was late to work because I spent 30 minutes looking for a parking spot near my building, and I get a little sad knowing that next Tuesday I'll be circling around another block a half a mile away.

All that nostalgia aside, I am so darned stoked that today is my last Tuesday in the School of Education. The thing is, I am kinda scared. I am not just switching jobs, I am changing careers totally. Luckily I am only 31, but unfortunately I am 31. 31 with a mortgage, 2 car payments, 2 children, and an (out of control) equity line. So this job has to work...it has to be my ticket to the big cash pot at the end of the suburban rainbow.

Boy, did I eat out this past weekend!.

Friday lunch my office took Karen to Maggianos in Short Pump. I nearly cashed out my children's college fund to pay for a luke warm plate of eggplant parmesean and a bitter piece of dry bread. Total bill = $32.

Friday night I hung out at Stool Pigeons with, my latest favorite person, Dana. She ordered some gross animal remains (also known as hamburgers) and I ordered a totally untasty plate of nachos. Total with beer = $25.

Saturday morning I was cleaning the house for mother in laws visit. Breakfast was a bagel and latte from Starbucks. Total = $8. Kids and hubby ate donuts (yuck!).

Saturday lunch was sushi at Wasabi. Total = $12. Kids and hubby ate Burger King (yuck!).

Saturday Dinner was pizza from Papa Johns. Omg, I ordered the 6 cheese pizza and I nearly fainted, it was so tasty. Total = $32.

Sunday morning Payton and I woke early and took pictures in Shockoe Bottom. Quick Starbucks munchies and latte = $13.

Sunday lunch with Chris's Dad and future wife at Buffalo Wild Wings = $75.

Okay I need a break. I can't believe the money I spend on eating out. And the calories!!

There was also CiCi's Pizza on Thursday and Little Mexico yesterday for lunch with Maggie. (Love ya Magster!). Oh and the latte with Karen yesterday afternoon at Crossroads.

I'm starting to think I have issues. That is only 4 1/2 days!

No wonder my equity line is out of control.

Yikes.

Sunday Quiet

2008-05-11T18:24:00.000-07:00

Right now the children are snuggled under layers of freshly laundered quilts. Chris is watching a TV show about Frito Lay's assembly line. Therefore, I am blessed with a quiet handful of me-time hours.

My first task was to look through the dozens of picture I snapped this evening. Boy did it rain tonight! Our skinny ditch quickly turned into a wadding pond. When the rain slowed, the air filled with a beautiful ethereal light. A green freshness mirrored from tree to tree and then across the street pavement casting a lovely brightness against the dark clouds. A bit of sun helped form gentle shadows of dripping trees down onto the wet grass.

What a sight! So I grabbed my camera and started shooting...the sky, the trees, the water droplets on the deck...I wanted to capture that light. But I quickly realized that unless I master aperture and f stops, I'll only produce black and blurry photos.

Rather then reference the seventeen books that I own with names like "How-To-Use-Your-$1000-Camera", I used my misplaced sense of expertise to determine that a tripod would cure all my photography woes. So Chris and I searched the house For something that would hold the camera steady. We settled on a ladder, which would have been ideal, however one rung was too high, producing pointless pictures of tree branches in the sky; and the next rung was too low, producing what you see below:

Now, this picture isn't going to win me any awards, I posted it mainly because I took 62 pictures and, dammit, I was going to post at least one of them!

Oh I also have to post this picture:

I have to post this picture because of this conversation:

ME: Look honey we've got marijuana growing in our yard!
HUBBY: That isn't marijuana, its a weed.
ME: Baby that isn't just any weed, it's THE weed, mary jane, the good stuff
HUBBY: No it's a weed...now you are going to blog about how we have weed growing in our yard
ME: Of course I am! It's right there!

I have a new obsession. This is scary for me to admit, but I have to put it out on the table. First let me say I rebel against Vera Bradley purses, I mean seriously? Those are totally frumpy. This, too was the way I felt about Yankee candles, but more because the store's smell sent me into mini convulsions. However, I learned that Cracker Barrel (Geez thats another place I swore I'd never visit or be seen visiting) sells Yankee Candles, and on a whim I purchased one. And I burned it for 4 days straight. Thats almost 100 hours! And I fell madly in love with the comforting smell of my house. In fact I fell in love with my house again, because of that $25 candle. Today I am on my 3rd Yankee Candle. This one is called Dune Grass:

Oh it's yummy. yummy. yummy.

Here are two more pictures I retouched tonight of my restful buddha bookends:

Now I am contemplating bed. I am reading "100 Years of Solitude" and I'm at the point where 10 people are name Jose Arcadio Buendia. I'm confused who is the great-great-grandfather and who is he shagging. You know, because it's the parts with the shagging that really hold my attention.

Tomorrow I get to tell my boss I found another job and I QUIT!

Ah, just another day. What a blessed life I have.

Whine...

2008-04-08T18:29:00.000-07:00

Sunday night my husband forced me to watch Extreme Home Makeover. I hate that show. Especially when Ty starts crying. I wanna shake him and say c’mon you ADHD basket case, hold it together. He irritates my most inner being. And he needs a throat lozenge.

However, the house they built Sunday night was dreamy. And the wife was presented with her very own soaking tub. So I started thinking. Why don’t I have a jetted step-in bathtub? How come I only have a sucky stand-up shower stall in my bathroom? Why am I so deprived in life?

I’ve decided my 2009 goal will be to get myself one of those fancy soaking tubs. I don’t know where I’ll put it, but I want one. Even if it’s outside in the shed.

This is the game hubby plays.

Me: Do we have any strawberry ice cream? I really want strawberry ice cream!

Him: I think I have some in my shed.

Then he grabs his keys and goes to the store, buys the ice cream, comes back and declares "Yes! There was strawberry ice cream in the shed!"

It’s all very cute.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes there is no strawberry ice cream in the shed. And sometimes there is no shed at all.

But strawberry ice cream aside, the really important question is.....Is there a hot tub in that shed? And when is the soonest he can get it hooked up in the house?

Number 18,861

2008-04-07T18:32:00.000-07:00

Saturday I ran the 10K! I came in 18,861st place. I did it! Woohoo. I rock.

I ran most of it. It poured rain. I became a bit emotional at the finish line. It’s the farthest I’ve ever run. 6.2 miles. 10k. I’m thrilled! After the race I walked a mile and half to my car, so lets call that 8 miles total. Then I passed out on the couch and woke up two days later. :)

I trained for 3 months and now I am never running again. Haha just kidding. Training for the 1/2 marathon in November...that’s 13 miles kids. Who’s with me?

I kinda like it but I kinda hate it

2008-03-20T18:33:00.000-07:00

Early this morning, I wrote a well thought-out blog on racism in America. I let it live for an hour on myspace, then I deleted it. I decided that this space, my blog space, should not be a place of heavy left-ism thought. While indeed I am a liberal gal, there is no need shoving my agenda in anyone’s face when they’d rather read about how many times I hear the toilet flush from the crapper adjacent to my office. Anyhow, I’d rather consider the implication of having an office so close to the bathroom, than wage heavy political battles amongst my friends.

My how far I’ve come from those feminist days in college. I’ve traded Wollstonecraft for Austen. In my defense, didn’t Wollstonecraft try to drown herself in oven gas?

Here in this school of education, our firecracker Dean hired 2 somewhat questionable Assistant Deans. Wait, make that 3 questionable {This part was edited out, c’mon guys I don’t wanna lose the paycheck}

And the third. The "absent minded professor". How this ditzy woman made it through college we will never know. Although I am convinced she uses her stupidity as an excuse for breaking the rules. "Oh, I can’t take my family out to eat on VCU money? I didn’t realize that. Well, just see what you can do to fix it."

She just poked her head into my office and said in her light airy voice (which is a long description for totally fake) "There are donuts in the Dean’s Office. Krispy Kreme." I believe she was expecting me to jump up, grab her, kiss her flat on the lips, cry a bit, and dash for the donut box. She was rather disapointed in my reaction which was simply "No thanks." She frooze, gave me a weasel stare, then click-clacked off to the crapper.

Meanwhile my coworker, freshly returned from a root canal, is flying high off pain medicine. She is literally dancing in the hallways. She is a child of the hippy generation and I am slightly worried she may strip and run naked down the hall.

I want what she is having.

I went out to eat with Angelica a couple of days ago. She says "Oh you got your haircut. I like it, but I kinda hate it too." Bothered by this, I say to hubby, "do you like my haircut?" He says "Yeah, it’s okay." I said, "Angelica said she kind of hates it." He says "Well, I liked it better long." So I ask my coworker Heather, "Was my hair better before?" She says "Noway, it’s a change, change is good." I say, "Yeah but I don’t get hit on anymore." She says "That’s precicely why I cut my hair. I was tired of the Bubbas hitting on me." I say, "Yeah, thats true it was always the Bubbas when I had all that hair." She concludes, "Long hair makes the Bubbas think you are young, silly, and impressionable. Men can get in the pants of the long-haired girls." So I am left wondering, at almost 31, do I really care if I am the type of girl men want to get in the pants of? I mean shouldn’t that ego-stroking end at some point in a womans life when they decide to get serious about being a person and not just a piece of meat? Uh oh, I’m philiospohizing on a liberal platform again. But let me say one last thing, most women over 30 love short hair, and I get it. It’s easy to do. professional. and confident. Just like me...with the exception of easy to do, I mean seriously...

My coworker, Dana (the-hot-one-men-drool-over-that-also-sits-beside-the-crapper), is in Vegas right now loving life. I was supposed to be in Vegas next week. But I couldn’t pull it together. So instead I will be at home watching 1970 Oscar films. Honestly they should have shut Hollywood down during that decade.

So now just 2 more fake and bake hours left of this state-employee’s day. And then I’m off to pay my state-employee-fine (aka parking), then to the shrink, then to a dirty kitchen and two children who are bubbly no matter if the kitchen is clean or not.

One of those Deep Blogs

2008-03-18T18:35:00.001-07:00

I’m melancholy right now. I try to avoid that feeling, running in these size 9 heels, chasing bliss as it settles on the horizon. Bliss is fleeting. It passes. And behind it leaves melancholy in that vast spot. The funny thing, bliss is so wonderful that I open up my heart and stuff as much of it’s light into me as possible. Bliss makes me rotund, I fill each crack with little glowing hearts, and puree the scraps of love into a paste that I paint on the walls of my being.

I love bliss. I consume it. Gobble it up. Until I am so fat with bliss my cheeks threaten to take off like hot air balloons.

And then suddenly it vanishes. Everything. The tiny hearts, the glowing pureed paste of love, it’s all gone. One Friday afternoon the bliss is there and I’m fat dumb and happy, then Monday morning, it hits me, something is missing. I search the curves of my cheeks and the pit of my belly. Where did it go? When did it leave? I did not see it leaving. But I know for sure it is gone. And then the melancholy whooshes in, flooding waters, filthy mud waters. Melancholy finds much room to steal in my expanded frame. My gluttony with bliss has left gigantic canyons for melancholy to fill.

And melancholy rides into my fingers, down my shins. Melancholy pools at the back of my throat, I cough, melancholy bounces, but does not dislodge.

I am melancholy for the world. The entire fucking world. So much melancholy from China and Isreal. So much melancholy in the lives of my dear friends. You don’t have to be sad friends, I still have space inside to take your melancholy too.

ask the universe for what you want

Dear Universe,

I do want to live with this melancholy. It is more than I can bear.

(no wait, that is not true)

Dear Universe,

As long as I have this big ass hole left by that bastard bliss, I want you to fill it to the brim with everyone’s melancholy. Why should everyone carry even the slightest bit of sadness when I have the room for it all here in my chest.

Oh, and while you are at it, can you please give me all those things that I pray for, you know, the job, the house, the perfect relationship with my family.

Signed with love and melancholy,

Tiffany

I ran 4 miles today!!

2008-03-09T18:37:00.000-07:00

I know what you are thinking...woman do you do anything other than run?
The answer is no. Not right now at least. The 10K is less than a month. And for the first time since I started training I believe that I can, with certainty, finish the 10K, and maybe even run the whole thing.

I was running up a menacing hill today when my mind wandered....how do I prepare stuffed grape leaves; I'll need grapes leaves, that's obvious, rice and garlic, red peppers, olive oil, capers? I bet that salty flavor is capers, no maybe diced greek olives. Or capers. Or both.

And then it hit me. I just ran a whole stinkin' 5 minutes without thinking about a pain in my knee, how far I have left to go, how slow I'm going, how sweaty I look. It's almost as if I was a natural runner. One of those gazelles that pass you blessed by the wind, the kind that make you spat on the ground and say to your Big Mac ass "Well, arn't they lucky to be born fit".

Admittedly running for five minutes and thinking about something other than being in pain may not qualify me in the "gazelle" category. But I'll take a seat somewhere between total newbie and 10K runner.

Yesterday hubby and I went to Ellwood Thompson (march out the dollar signs...$$$$). Eighty bucks will get you roughly half a bag of groceries. Mind you, a fancy half bag of groceries. Among my delectables: okra patties, mock tuna salad, soy green tea ice cream, italian tofu, vegan spinach pie, and stuffed grape leaves.

Mmmm stuffed grape leaves.

I'm a Trainwreck in the Morning

2008-03-07T18:37:00.001-08:00

Chloe (shreiking): Mommy! Theres a scary mean spider.

Me (shuffilling through my bag to find my keys): That's not a spider, sweetie, its a piece of string, just pick it up and throw it in the trash.

Chloe: No it's not, it's a yucky spider.

Me: Okay, just don't touch it.

Payton: Chloe, its just a string. See?

(Payton picks up the string and dangles it in Chloes face)

Chloe (shreiking): Ahh! Payton get that out of my face. Mommy Payton put the spider in my face.

Payton: It's not a spider!

Me: You two wait outside while I find my keys.

(I turn over the couch cushions while Payton and Chloe walk to the door)

Chloe: Mommy there is a kitty.

Payton: She looks hungry.

Chloe: Mommy the kitty wants to come inside.

Me: Don't let that cat inside!

Chloe: But she is huuuungry!

Me: Don't let that cat inside!

Chloe: The kitty likes me. Mommy I want to sit on the porch.

Payton: You don't want to sit on the porch, you just want to play with that cat.

Me (searching my coat pockets for my keys): Go on outside. I'll be there in a minute.

Payton: I'm going outside too.

Me: Okay don't let that cat inside.

Payton: Okay....oops Mommy! The cat got inside.

Me (frantic): Get him out, shoo shoo.

Payton: Look Mommy I found your keys in the door.

(5 minutes later dropping the kids off at daycare)

Chloe to daycare provider: Ms. Sheila, we got a new kitty.

Ms. Sheila: You did? What did you name it?

Chloe: Brewster

Payton: We didn't get a cat.

Chloe: Uh-huh, we did so.

Me: Chloe we found the cat on our porch, it isn't our cat. I have to go now, eat all your lunch today.

Chloe: I'm saving the peas for Brewster.

It's a Good Hair Day

2008-03-06T18:46:00.000-08:00

Every morning I run in the same outfit. Gray sweatpants 2 sizes too big, baggy around the legs. And the blaringly bright yellow-orange t-shirt with black VCU logo on the front. This shirt puts bicycle reflectors to shame. I'm thinking about expanding my running outfit to include a pinwheel hat with a hershy kiss ribbon that says MASSIVE DORK!

This morning I ran 2 miles in my garish outfit past groups of middle school kids waiting for the bus. I'm sure they mistook me emergency road crew. Or perhaps a singing VCU telegram. Go Rams. Thankfully none of them threw rocks.

Hey notice me!

The shirt is bad of course, but the pants are worse.

They are so baggy that when i sweat the fronts cling to my thighs, while the back of the pants go flapping in the wind like two long gray colorguard flags. The extra fabric catches the cold air and streams it up the back side of my legs. This is not comfortable.

My neighbors kid came over this past weekend after I came home from an especially productive run. She took one look at my get up and said "Are you still wearing your pajamas?" I've become THAT mom of the neighborhood.

At least I never go anywhere without lip gloss.

I ran about 2.5 miles this morning. My new pink watch should arrive tomorrow. It's so adorable. It does all this gadgety stuff like measure your heart rate and distance, and it also shows the time. I hope this watch cures my 15 minute mile syndrome.

Today is Wednesday which means three things.
1. Trash day
2. Piano night for Payton
3. Date lunch with Chris

It is rare, when you have 2 children and no family in town, to get dates with the hubby. We both work at VCU now. So we have instituted date lunches. They are awesome and he always lets me pick the restaraunt. Today = Crossroads (notorious for their vegan cookies). I ate Mock Tuna salad with vegan ceasar, a glass of water, and a cafe au lait with soy. Yum. However my lovely onion breath has brought a rather unpleasant aroma into my window-less office.

At least I am having a good hair day.

Big Hair

2008-03-06T18:40:00.000-08:00

I went to get a hair cut.

I asked for this:

Isn't she cute?!!

But they hacked off too much in the back:

I'm sure it's lovely and fine, but I'm used to this:

(Why do I look so sad in all these pictures???)

I was able to donate 2 healthy chunks of hair to Locks of Love.
I think I need to grow into it, I was expecting to have Mandy Moore's face too, not just her hair, and I thought I made that point pretty clear to the stylist. I want her hair, naturally green eyes, a small frame, and cuteness that makes you pucker. All I got was a close mockup of the hair.

Oh well.

Now how do I make the top look less like a helmet?

This morning I ran 2.75 miles.

2008-03-04T18:46:00.000-08:00

This morning I ran 2.75 miles. I was aiming for 3 but completed 2.75. After running, I climbed into my car to realize my 2.75 mile run took me 45 minutes. Using my stellar math skills, I realized that was roughly 15 minute miles. 15 minute miles. Are you kidding me? I can walk faster than that. The 10K is exactly 1 month away, thats 4 weeks, worse yet 31 days. I have to kick it up a notch here, I should be running 4-5 miles at no more than 13 minutes each. OMG no wonder this exercise thing takes up so much of my friggin morning. At this rate I'll be running 105 minute 10K. Again, I'm no math genius but thats like an hour and fourty-five minutes!! The monument 10K is hosting 2 Kenyans who run 4 minute miles. Let's see thats 25 minutes for the Kenyan and nearly two hours later, what is that rounding the corner? Oh it's the crippled guy on crutches, not bad. Wait whats that behind him? Oh it's the 90 year old woman carrying her grandchildren on her back. But wait. I see yet another coming around the bend. Could it be Tiffylou? No it is the cleaning crew picking up debris, the race is over. Hopefully she will finish before it gets dark tonight.

Wait. Let me start again.

This morning I ran 2.75 miles. OMG 2.75 miles is great! The End.

Oh How I Love NYC

2008-03-03T18:47:00.000-08:00

Without NYC is there really any point to human existence?

NYC embodies the essences of humanity. Art museums, green spaces, wall street, graffiti, poetry, cafes, Metro Cards, sweet roasted peanuts, buildings of mirrored glass, yellow taxis, knee high boots, double decker tour buses, Juicy Coutre windows, gothic cathedrals, and the f word in 25 different languages.

This city is owned by students, playwrights, business men, tourists, artists, and rats, oh the rats. Gum spots splatter the pavement in Time Square, thousands of sticky carcasses once sloshing around in the wet mouths of children, adults, foreigners, now permanent black dots along the sidewalk.

But get me out of Time Square. That's the stuff of high school band trips.

Let me rest on the cold green benches in Bryant Park. A week ago starved models gathered at this park, yanking magnificent sewn fabric over their boney frame and intentionally-tousled hair.

Or let me run my hand down the frozen stone siding of Parson's School of Design, baffled by the gravity of creative minds fostered in this building.

In New York, I am part of everything. I am passed by hundreds of people with cell phones cocked between their shoulder and face. I am part of everything. Yet, among strangers I am part of nothing. I like the ying/yang of this metropolis.

A month ago Heath Ledger's life ended here.

As I stand in front of the Trump Towers a motorcade passes me. Security and flashing lights, this is obviously somebody important. A foreign diplomat? Trump himself? (It was actually Hillary Clinton, on her way to a guest appearance on Saturday Night Live)

I dine in an upscale restaurant in Pershing Square. It's near closing time, the guests filter out laughing off bottles of wine. From my booth I examine the impressive John Donnelly sculpture at the top of Grand Central Station. A healthy male figure enveloped in fabric reaches outward. Two smaller figures lay by his feet, a man preparing for combat, and a woman heavily contemplating the effect of men's hasty actions. I later found out these three figures were Mercury (God of commerce), Hermes (God of boundaries and interpretation), and Minerva (Goddess of many things, among them commerce and crafts).

And then snow falls. The city becomes quiet, with an occasional splash from passing taxis and the click of pedestrian lights, as they change from "Walk" to "Do Not Walk" and then back again.

There was much to think about. The failing war in Iraq, the democratic party destroying itself, the 16 year old who killed her family over some guy, never ending budget cuts at work, a new bed for Payton, losing weight, the pooling condensation at the bottom of my water glass.

Here I am nothing. Here I am everything.

Aww Rats....

2008-03-02T18:51:00.000-08:00

Critters in the NYC Subway

Holy Tamale!

2008-02-27T18:57:00.000-08:00

After work I went to therapy (yes I see a shrink, get over it) and then to my favorite Chinese nail salon (which actually happens to be Vietnamese - go figure) to get a manicure and my brows waxed. Lovely. Then I drove home and guess what! Waiting on the kitchen table was a present from hubby!!! None other than a $1,400 Nikon D80 SLR Camera with 8GB Memory Card and 18-135 mm lens. OMG I'm so happy I could poop. I am so happy that I can not bring myself to open the damn box. This camera was $1,400. Thats a lot of money. Especially for someone who hasn't bought a new pair of shoes in nearly a year. Of course a camera is so much cooler than any heels...oh and I did buy some Uggs at Christmas, so thats really like 2 months not a year, but still, $1,400 is a lot of money. So I ate dinner with the box on my lap, carried the box with me to tuck the girls in, and then also into the bathroom (TMI) and now the camera box is sitting here beside me on my desk. Unopened. I can still return it for 14 days for a full refund. What to do? What to do?

First Pictures with New Nikkon!!!

2008-02-27T18:54:00.000-08:00

Parking Paranoia

2008-02-26T18:58:00.000-08:00

I'm late (everyday) and I decide to make 1 loop around Cary Street looking for free parking. Usually I give in and park in the $5/day deck. (Don't you just love paying to come to work!)

This morning as I was circling the block guess what! a car backed out of a spot RIGHT in front of the building. So I pulled in carefully. Put the car in park. And spent the next 5 minutes walking up and down the street looking for "No Parking" signs. No parking on Thursday...okay it's Tuesday. Is it Tuesday? I think it's Tuesday. What are those cones a quarter mile up the road? Could those have blown down the street? Was this spot supposed to be coned off for sewer line mantainance? Are there any of those flimsy street cleaning signs that may have blown over? Am I far enough from the crosswalk? The fire hydrant? Could I be towed or booted? Do I have any outstanding parking tickets? Hmmm, I think I'm okay. But am I? Am I sure? Let me turn around and look one more time. Could it be possible that I was able to score this good of a parking spot?

God, I hope my car is here when I come out of work this afternoon.

I'm too much of an Aries to be Invisible

2008-02-25T18:59:00.001-08:00

Saturday I pushed myself. I was fed up with hitting the wall at mile 2.5. Unacceptable mediocrity. I aimed to run at least 4 miles. Nonstop. And I did, mostly. I ran 4 miles. Though it turned in to an awkward jog/hopping/hunched over debacle towards the end.

I went out, again, on Sunday, and I stiff and achy. I could only walk 2.5 miles.

I took off my headphones and listened to the wind blowing through the tree's upmost limbs. The temperature was 50 degrees, I reminded myself that this is winter. The branches are bear. The water is cold. I noticed a certain type of bush that was still clinging onto yellow flaky leaves, as though autumn had not come and gone. The trees, the moss, the squirrels, and I... we are waiting for snow.

I didn't go running today. The weekdays are tough for running. I leave early, come home late, and it's all such a waste of time, you know, this work thing. What a fucking waste of time.

It's all really pointless. I think the word "administrator" is a catch word for "person who occupies their time with busy pointless paperwork".

I should have been a folk singer. I really wanted to do that.

I really wanted to do that.

Why didn't I do that?

Friday means NYC. I need NYC right now. MoMA. Time Square. 5th Avenue. With my Nikon D80. (The one I don't own yet). Maybe I'll stay in the hotel and look out the window all day. People watch. Maybe I'll ride the subway for 4 hours, take pictures of the tube rats. Maybe I'll sit on St. Patrick's church pew and light a candle for my grandfather and all the people in the world who need someone to pray for them.

Obviously, it was Party-time

2008-02-24T19:00:00.000-08:00

Who would have thought something so sweet:

could be such a little devil??

The neighbors spent the night. Sometime in the middle of the night the two girls woke up, snuck into the kitchen, and had their own personal party time.

And I mean like jungle hurricane wild party time. Here is a brief list of the midnight party activities that darling Chloe and Gracie enjoyed:

1. glued sparkles to the floor
2. stuck stickers to the wall
3. wrote on my kitchen table with permanent marker
4. pulled out a pack of pipe cleaners and bent them all in squiggles
5. pretended a large bag of glitter was fairy dust and sprinkled it all over each other
6. pulled pictures off the fridge and cut them with caterpillar scissors

The whole time they were enjoying this midnight party I was sleeping just a few feet away on the couch in the living room. Oblivious.

So I woke up this morning, walked down stairs, around the corner, into the kitchen, and OMG!

It took 2 hours to clean up, with the help of Payton and her friend Cayle, AND hubby, AND the two little demons. Towards the end of the clean up hubby says "I bet that was a lot of fun." Yeah, probably. A once-in-your-lifetime-if-you-dont-want-to-suffer kind of fun.

Then we made vegan waffles with princess sprinkles and sugar peaches. Yum.

Amazing Mother-in-law Never Dissapoints

2008-02-18T19:05:00.000-08:00

Mother-in-law, Beth, is starting a children's birthday party business. She brings the party to the child's house, sets up a fancy table with decorations, provides costumes for the children to play in, bakes a cake (Beth style which puts Martha to shame), provides treat bags, plays games, etc etc etc.

As with everything this woman does, these parties will be over-the-top spectacular. She has employed me (free of charge of course) to create her site. Her business color is lavender, her theme, victorian. These two components are something I've never worked with before. So far I've created this:

The roses are a bit gag-ish, but she like them, and it does help the overall Victorian-esque feel. I'm rushing to finish the design base so I can start the CSS tomorrow. Still a long way to go. I'll be up for a while yet.

As preparation for the business, Beth asked me to bring the kids down this past Sunday so that she could take pictures for the website/brochure. Beth charged hubby Derek to work the camera. Tamara (my sis-in-law) and I chased the kids around yanking off their clothes and putting on the costumes. I managed to snap a few pictures with my [crappy ass] camera.

It's a Saturday

2008-02-17T19:13:00.000-08:00

I watched Resident Evil with hubby, and suprisingly, it didn't totally suck. I'm pretty sure this is the most beautiful woman in the world.

And then I changed my mind when I saw a picture of her at the movie premiere. She doesn't look as hot all dressed up:

Kind of like Viggo Mortensen in LOTRs - hot as Aragon

Mmmmm.....

But nowhere else:

Today I ate a bag of Lays Potato Chips and drank a half a bottle of Smoking Loons Merlot. It's all good, it's all vegan. Now tell me again how a vegan can be chunky??

I ran forever today... Maybe as much as 4.5 miles, and hell, it was pretty damn cool that I was able to do that. Unfortunately now I am up all night finishing a website. The site is massively flowery, but it's for a special client, so what she wants she gets.

Yada Yada Part I

2008-02-15T19:21:00.000-08:00

Just got back from lunch with Angelica where she fed a stray dog her entire lunch - a lunch I paid for!

I ordered a tempeh wrap which they made with Fakin' Bacon - tasted awful. I fed half my wrap to that stray dog, too.

I found this great site: I Can't Believe it's Vegan: a list of vegan food one might not know is vegan, such as Oreos, Fritos, and cake frosting. Yum.

In other news, this morning I ran an astonishing 1 mile (that's sarcasm kids). I was faced with two major contraints, one in my thigh, and the other was the man. You know, the man at work who fires you when you are repeaditly late.

My thigh is much better, though "the man" still gets me down from time to time.

Here is a totally unrealted random story.

1. I applied for a web design job.
2. I interview. Rad.
3. I wait.
4. Posting for position is cancelled.
5. Posting revised at higher pay with additional duties.
6. I pass on applying, assuming they want someone more qualified.
7. I receive email from man who interviewed me, says "position reposted" and "feel free to reapply"

I am trying to decide if I should reapply. He did take the time to send me a personalized email. But is reapplying an effective use of my time? Funny thing is, I was just thinking about emailing him and asking him if there was something in particular lacking from my portfolio.

I am listening to this conversation:

Ph.D. 1: I made my lunch and left it on the counter and it's Friday so I can't bring it tomorrow.
Ph.D. 2: Well eat it for lunch tomorrow.
Ph.D. 1: Nah, I can't do that. It's a work lunch. Not a Saturday lunch.
Ph.D. 2: Yeah, that's too bad.

And for faculty at VCU these type of things ARE too bad, like way bad, like devastatingly write a paper get a grant to study the long term psychological effects bad. Oh and then there are environmental impacts, and time conflicts, and tax inflation in restaraunts in Metro Richmond. All which could have been avoided had that Ph.D. remembered his damn lunch. Hell, Dr. So&So look what responsibility you have on your shoulders as the foremost human being on planet earth.

If I were a diva, my name would be Ferosh

2008-02-12T19:22:00.000-08:00

Me: Chloe, I said put on a scarf, that is a feather boa

Chloe: But it's warm and soft, I wanna wear it

Me: Fine, but when you get to school you have to take it off

Chloe: But Mommy, I have to wear it, I want to be cheetalicious

I dropped the kids off early this morning so I could vote.

I walked into the voting room which doubles as the school gym 364 days of the year. One table was set up for Republicans and the other was set up for Democrats. As a testament to the type of people congressing from my neighborhood, I made a mental note of the line that had formed across the gym floor, and curled out of the door. All these folks were waiting for one thing. A Republican ballot. Those in line for a Democrat ballot? One. Me.

The ballot was fairly straight forward, but I had to read it 4 or 5 times because, as the only apparent Democratic voter for 5 square miles, I did not want to make a mistake. I nearly broke the ink pen pressing down hard to make sure the entire oval was filled.

The man by the ballot-collector-machine leaned way over to read which bubble I had filled in. I saw him peering, so I stopped feeding the ballot, held it up close to his nose and said "Hillary", then I fed the paper through the counter. In retrospect, feeding the 8 ½" by 11" paper ballot into the counter felt a lot like shredding a document_

After successfully completing my civic duty, I called hubby to remind him that if he would like to vote for Clinton, the voting booth was open until 7pm at Payton's school, otherwise, if he choose to vote for Obama, he would find that the voting booth location had changed, and was now located somewhere in the Appalachian.

With my spare 15 minutes, I went for a run in the park. (Oh man am I gonna be late to work today). The weather? A cloudy 22 degrees. I tightened my shoelaces with numb fingers, grabbed my iPod shuffle with the little clippie backing (too cool), and set off to conquer the mostly flat course at Rockwood Park.

Somewhere between mile 2 and 3 my pace slowed and I knew I would soon be walking. My joints were achy and my heart was racing too fast. So I made a deal with myself. I would run the entire song, whatever it was, just one song, and then walk the rest of my course.

Dear reader, you will never believe what song was next. The soundtrack anthem from Rocky. You know, the one that's playing in the background in the movie while Sylvester Stalone runs across the Brooklyn bridge, and up some monumental steps, and through fields of grain.

So there I am, pounding the pavement, and this song lifts me up, tall and gazelle-like. Off in the distance, on queue, a flock of birds takes to the winter sky. And the chorus of women sing "Getting Stronger".

I'm running, and drooling, my ski cap fell off my head about a quarter mile back but I leave it where it fell.

"Getting Stronger" the chorus keeps singing, and I feel like a real superstar. My heart is racing and I'm thinking, um, maybe this isn't a good idea, I'm probably hitting my 90% heart rate max. But I just can't stop, after all I'm "getting stronger" and you know what? I want to be Rocky. I fucking become Rocky. I am running, and it hurts, and I've never been more ferosh.

FYI, I happened to download the extended orchestral version of this song. A full agonizing 7 minutes long.

Around minute 6, I forgot the pain and my heart rate steadied. My body said "Okay girl, I'm done trying to stop you, you ain't quittng are you?" I shook my head. Hell no.

And I didn't, until the song was over. And when it ended, and I slowed my pace, shot my arms up into the sky and said right outloud "I'M GETTING STRONGER. WOOHOO!"

"Alright!" said a little black man who I hadn't noticed sitting on the curb. He gave me a big warm smile, as if to say "You go girl." And I smiled back and said "Thanks!"

You Appeared in my Car like a Stowaway

2008-02-11T19:24:00.000-08:00

You appeared in my car like a stowaway today. Reclining the passenger seat, soiling the leather.

I didn't realize you were there at first, beside me as I drove southbound on I-95. I suddenly felt your sarcasm burn my right cheek. Your abusive exploits pinching my arm.

You sat there, like undigested meat, a 3 foot clump of red clay, Mississippi mud. "This car won't hold both of us," I warned you. But you didn't listen, instead you became denser, substantial, and ponderous.

I rolled down your window, and you whined at me about the wind. I complained about your vulgar stench. "You can not exist without me."

The air in the car turned wicked. My spirits absorbed your sticky goo. I stopped breathing and curled inside myself, toxic, melting, miserable.

I reach out for you, "If I suffer from you, we suffer together." But you laughed and said "I'm only given you the rotten stuff, babe, I sent the good stuff to Switzerland for vacation."

My heart foiled in my chest, my breath constrained. "Ugh, you make me sick sometimes," you spit at me, "pathetic".

"Yes, pathetic," I think.

I reach out again, and feel your wet sloppy clay. I dig my fingers into you, feel your cold useless form. When I pull out my hand it is covered in your muck, lodged deeply under my fingernails. I reach again, into your soil, and grab a clump, holding it firmly in my hand.

"You know what? I want the window down." I say out loud, and before you can protest the window is down. The freezing wind rushes into the car, washing out your heavy stench. With the strength of Nolan Ryan, I squeeze your uselessness in my palm, and give a most impressive overhand delivery, right out of the passenger window, smacking into the back of a pick up truck. I watch your muck form into an image of you, with your face, and your arms, your torso leaning against the back of the cab, you smirk at me, as I drive past you and your new chauffeur who is oblivious to your presence. "There!" I exclaim, "You've always said you wanted to travel!"

And then I lean over and grab more of your gunk, now settled into my leather seat. I form a nice handful and toss it with an impressive curve, landing you on the Phillip Morris tower. You twirl into your man form, skidding to a seated halt, lay back against the tower, admire the stars.

I grab another handful of you, and pitch you out of my window, like a coin skipping across water, you hop, hop, hop, on your tush till you find a green place amongst the pine tree forrest. I see you rise up, taking your familiar shape, turn to smile at me, and then disappear in the woods.

I throw you into the James, where a boat magically forms beneath you on the river.

I hurl globs of you against the bridge and watch you grab on to the cement and climb up to the overpass.

I attach bits of you to an arrow and shoot you off into the distance where you find an outdoor cafe with a starbucks latte and wired laptop computer waiting to amuse you.

I open my door and shove the bulk of you onto a Wal-Mart parking lot, where you assemble into 50 identical men, all rising into form from chunks of clay. All 50 of you walk off in different directions like a starburst. Your mass exodus in all directions centering from my car must resemble an impressive firework display from Heaven's view.

You are gone. But left a fine dust behind. I sweep the dust bits into a zip lock bag, but they are resistant to containment and rise up into the air, disappearing into the sun. I can not take the chance that you will come back here. I am done with your evil intent. I grab a can of hairspray and spray the air. Your dust particles cling together, and fall heavily downward, where I catch them with the plastic bag.

I seal the bag and roll it into a ball. I secure the ball into the hug of a rubber band sling shot, with all my well intent and hopeful wishes, I pull the rubber band back using the strength deep inside my shoulder socket. "May you land where you will find peace and never again hurt another," I whisper curtly, snapping the sling shot into the air. Your bag flies into the sky, fierce, spinning into a fireball, your dust beams over the atlantic, twirls over europe, and slows, half way around the world, dropping as ash from the sky, somewhere over Asia. You appear out of the ground, kneeling in exhaustion, looking up from where you fell, and smile fondly. "What a quirky girl you are, my Tiffylou!"

Yes, fine, thank you very much, now if you would be so kind, please stay where I flung you, do not find your way back into my personal space.

Is this me??

2008-02-08T19:32:00.000-08:00

I saw this picture on Magster's page and I thought "holy shit is that me?" because I'm pretty sure this image captures everything about my life: house, children, and of course, alcohol. Oh, and I also own that outfit in white, red, black, and leopard print.

I feel like I am typing sideways today. Physically slanted. I'm having to lean to one side because I feel like my ship is sinking. Literally. I am literally typing at an angle. I would love to photograph this, only my camera is in my purse and my purse is way far away at the bottom of the steps.

Sometimes I wish that I didn't have to share my iTunes library with hubby. Let's be honest, his music really sucks. Here is a sample of some of his faves:

Rose of Sharyn - Killswitch Engage
Whitewash - Buckethead
Needled - Children of Bodom (wtf?)
Satch Boogie - Joe Satriana
The entire collections of GNR, Beastie Boys, and Buckethead

Of course while typing these I clicked to play "Through Fire and Flames" by DragonForce, one of hubby's theme songs (Thanks Guitar Hero). And I have heard this song so many times against the click click click of the plastic guitar remote buttons. Sporting an 80% on expert level. Rock on.

Mi Alegria Muerde tu Boca Ciruela

2008-02-03T19:35:00.000-08:00

(I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth)

What treat I enjoyed, sitting on my front porch wrapped in a thinning afghan, I have emptied the universe to focus completely on the children, playing with intense consideration to their imaginary games.

The young one falls, walks to me for comfort, her stunning blue green eyes become liquid, and she stumbles the words "being mean" and "pulling my hair"

Thats not nice. Tell them absolutely not.

She leans, birdlike, gracefully brute, and yells to her mutual companions "ABSOLUTELY NOT"

My job on the porch is complete, I enter my house, the air feels delicious, a left over aroma of sautéed cabbage and portabella mushrooms.

A Vegan Menu

2008-01-28T19:39:00.000-08:00

I am by no means a vegan expert. But I do get the question "What do you eat?"

Here is a sample of what I ate today:

Breakfast:
Apple
10 almonds
1 cup of chocolate soy milk (yum)

Lunch:
Edamame
2 vegan sushi rolls (cucumber, carrot, avacado, rice, algae wrapper)

Snack:
Orange

Dinner:
Steamed broccoli
Whole wheat pasta (vegan)
Tomato based sauce

It's all quite delicious and filling, though I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't found out first hand.

I find it important to always have fruit everywhere I go. I am a snacker so I keep apples in my desk and a pouch of almonds in my handbag.

I'm also fond of http://www.vegweb.com for great receipes from real people.

I bought this book once called "Nobody Cares what you had for Lunch". This book was about blogging and gave the reader 100 blog themes to write on. I never used the book, I mostly purchased it for the clever cover. However it occurs to me now that I have violated the first rule of thumb = "Nobody Cares what you had for Lunch".

Training Update

2008-01-27T19:39:00.000-08:00

So after yesterday's smack in the face, I was out hitting the pavement this morning. I managed another 1.5 miles, but was done after that. I didn't feel like dying or hurling or sinking to the bottom of a deep fryer, but I wasn't all shits and giggles afterward either.

The month of February means no eating out. It's a fun lil experiment hubby and I thought we would try. Of course when you spend $500 a month on eating out and another $450 on groceries you start to really question your budgeting skills.

I also have 6 more yoga sessions to use in the next 4 weeks, so I'll be hitting the studio 2 times a week now instead of just once.

I'm still eating vegan. It's great. I feel fantastic. I have started incorporating non-vegan bread into my diet, mainly because vegan bread is dry, expensive and pointless. I read a couple articles about "almost" vegans who splurge on salmon because the Vitamin E in salmon gives a "healthy glow". So I decided to get sushi Friday with raw salmon. I nearly ralphed after the first bite. That $7.50 sushi roll now resides in the dumpster waiting for Ducks Disposal to remove it from my property. Now you understand the whole $950 food expense line....what a waste!

No eating out, so I need to figure out how to roll an algae leaf around rice and cucumber. Time to scour the database of vegweb.com for some cheap meals. I'll keep you posted...

This is gonna be harder than I thought

2008-01-26T19:40:00.000-08:00

Gee, imagine that.

FYI Apparently running 3 miles on the Precor FX is not the same as running 3 miles in REAL LIFE.

I went to the park, measured out 4.5 miles (I was feeling ambitious), grabbed my ipod and JEEP sweatshirt and started out for a little jog. After less than one mile I was pretty sure I was going to die. It was cold, my lungs burned, and the fat on my ass itched like a parasite infestation. But I forced myself to run 1.5 miles, mostly because running would get my pathetic body back to my car the quickest.

I can't believe I could only complete 1.5 miles running! Its such a breeze at the gym to go 5 miles even. I'm starting to feel the fear.

Only 2 months until the 10K. OMG I need to go for another run right now!

Poems that Don't Rhyme

2008-01-23T19:44:00.000-08:00

I cooked vegan eggplant parmesean which was delicious.

Here is a picture of Payton eating vegan pancakes. Yum.

I'm greatly bothered by the turantulas running across the banner ad at the top of my screen.

I decided that if I were Pochantas I wouldn't have left the teepee this week. My heater is barely managing these cold nights. It's made my morning workouts a challenge.

Last night Chloe gave me a popsicle stick with one google eye glued to the top. I asked her "What is this?" She said it was baby jesus' eye. "Where is the other eye?" "He lost it." "We should find it then!" I said. And she replied, "No, he didn't like it so he rubbed it off." I'm tempted to see if this is in the New Testament somewhere as a show of how Jesus is capable of seeing without sight.

In the car this morning Payton said "I know how to tell good poetry from bad poetry." I was intrigued. "How's that?" "Good poetry doesn't rhyme." I remember learning that in school too. So in honor of that rule that teachers try to convince us of, I am posting a good rhyming poem to prove them wrong:

..>..>..>..>..>..> ..> ..>..>..>..>..>..>..>
SONNET 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

And that would be pronounced "loouved".

So it's been determined by a group of my closest friends that I am emotionally unavailable. I avoid attachment and I'm easily smothered. This bothers me, and Rachel Angel says "of course it bothers you, because it's the truth and the truth is hard to hear." Then she tells me whenever we have a deep conversation I won't talk to her for two days afterward. I'm not sure how that fits in with vegan parmesean and poems that don't rhyme, but this is my blog and I'm letting it flow.

Oh and btw, if you are contemplating buying "The Secret" (a book about the law of attraction) take my advice and don't do it. You can have my audiobook copy. It's awful. And the author reads it as if she were Chef Tony trying to sell Nylon Kitchen Lids.

BTW, if myspace could add one thing for me it would be the ability to save a blog as a draft. Please see to it Tom. Thanks.

Tagged

2008-01-08T19:46:00.000-08:00

I was tagged!

Here's how you play: Once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 10 weird, random, facts, habits or goals about yourself , at the end choose 10 people to be tagged, list their names and why you tagged them. Don't forget to leave them a comment saying '(You're It!) and to go read your blog. You can not tag the person that tagged you so since you can't tag me back let me know when you are done so that I can go read YOUR blog answers.

1. I really dislike intense situations. I run, I move, I quit my job or relationship when it causes me distress. I leave a trail of unfinshed business. I never get attached to people. I am sorely independent and fickle. Oh wait that was like 6 things and I'm only on number 1.

2. When I was a kid my parents would empty the money from their pockets and leave it on the kitchen counter. I would steal a quarter, a couple of dimes, or if I was feeling bold, a dollar. Then I would take the money to Rite Aid and a buy Metal Edge magazine. At one point I covered every inch of my bedroom walls with posters of my favorite rock bands. I taped a four page spread of Brett Michaels on my ceiling above my bed so I could stare at him every night while falling asleep. He was my first love.

3. In 9th grade Jess and I dated the same guy. He was cute but embodied every stereotype of his Polish heritage. He was as dumb as a brick. The first time I met his mom she asked me if I was catholic. I said yes, and she sighed and said "Thank God! Much better than the last girl Jerry dated, she was Lutheran trash."

4. Yes I was raised a Catholic. The only thing I really learned from that experience was how to feel guilt, hold on to guilt, and make others feel guilty. Amen.

5. I love sushi. But I only like rolls. I'm not sure if those are even considered "real" sushi.

6. On my 18th birthday my mother baked me 18 birthday cakes. They were all decorated differently, some square, some round, some chocolate, some yellow. I ate cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner for almost a week.

7. I can't seem to organize myself enough to start my own business. I work hard but totally lack self discipline. I love my art, but I find myself watching TV instead of painting or drawing. My underachievement and wasted potential is my biggest dissapointment in life.

8. I'm 30 and I've been married 10 years.

9. My starbucks drink of choice: grande iced soy peppermint white mocha no whip

10. I am addicted to cheese and rotten relationships. I gave up cheese completely to save my heart. Now for the relationships....

Who am I tagging? Anyone who thinks this would be fun, as all my "regulars" have already been tagged by someone else.

I Don't Understand Americans

2008-01-07T19:48:00.000-08:00

How can I be so out of touch with my fellow Americans? I simply can not understand what they are thinking.

Why? Why are Democrats supporting Obama? Was it Oprah? Is it his promise that his smile can make the world a better place? Do we really trust that this man has any clue how to run the country? Can he really win this? Do we want that?! Wouldn't the ideal thing be to vote in the most qualified candidate? A candidate who has a good plan and the balls to execute it?

I watched as my country elected Bush for another 4 years. And I just didn't understand. Angelica says "He got us in a mess, now he needs to fix it." But he didn't fix it. And I didn't like Kerry. But thats who the Democrats picked. What a waste!

Now look at our country. It's pitful. We've lost the Iraq-gusto. We've lost any interest in the environment. We've lost countless jobs. And guess what's ahead? A recession. Do we really think someone with little experience has the skills to get us through a recession? Can Obama reach out to all the countries that Bush has offended? Would old people vote for Obama? He is so young, old people don't like youngings running the country.

OMG, the silly youth vote. Uninformed voters who vote like their husbands or their parents. Or "He is the best looking." Or 1 issue voters: "He is pro-gay marriage so I'm not voting for him". Or "I'd never vote a woman or a black man as my president." All of these people should not be allowed to vote unless they can prove that they have more than 1 deminsion.

Hillary may seem like a bitch but look how CNN, Fox, MSNBC is portraying her. Her photos show her scowling or lecturing the crowd. I'm so tired of the media.

I care about the environment. I care about my children's future. I care about stability in Iraq. I care about fiscal responsibility. Hillary knows these things. And she has a plan. And she has a pocket of gold in her husband whom the rest of the world adores, even if us good Christian Americans think he lacks integrity.

I have grown to hate the democratic process. It infuriates me that people can run so blindly into the voting booths. And I feel entirely helpless. As if our country of gluttons and morons is destined to implode on its own ignorance.

No my Children are not Malnurished

2008-01-03T19:49:00.000-08:00

So you tell someone your vegan and that you've started using soy milk and eating tofu...many people immediately say "Oh, did you hear the study that soy is bad for you/causes cancer/makes men grow boobs?" My friends are fantastic that they care enough about me and my children to warn me about anything that could negatively affect my health. I really appreciate their forewarning. However, because I have children whom my lifestyle rubs off on, I have been researching soy's nutritional pit falls myself.

What I've concluded is there is no clear evidence against soy. Most of the studies that "label" soy as a bad food were funded by the dairy community. Further all foods should be consumed in moderation, soy should too. Nothing is good in mass quantities.

I found this blog post interesting:

"According to Christiane Northrup, MD, phytoestrogens have nothing to do with the sort of estrogens the human body produces, they are NOT estrogen. She said that there are SOME components of soy phytoestrogens which connect with human estrogen receptors, but definitely not the way that human estrogens does.
What intrigues me about this soy argument is the lack of thought behind it. When one eats dead cow, they consume a LOT of estrogen and of a type much closer to that of the human body. Consider the hormone replacement drug Premarin (it derives its name from PREgnant MARe urINe). It is horse urine collected under truly cruel conditions and given to women to replace their own estrogen. Cattle are not that far off of horses and I can't see why eating their flesh which contains estrogen would be beneficial over a phytoestrogen, as it IS the real thing. Estrogen from cows is present in dairy products too. And pig meats and even chickens. Anymore, many farms routinely give cows hormones to stimulate milk production and I don't care what they say, these are also present in cow's milk.
When I started to think about soy versus animal protein, phytoestrogen versus actual mammalian estrogen, I laughed at the ignorance of this soy-estrogen argument!
There are a couple of things a woman gains from going vegan. One, because she CONSUMES less estrogen, she is reliant on what her body produces. Often, this leads to a lengthening of the menstrual cycle, which means fewer cycles over her reproductive life and thus less of the ebb and flow of estrogen and other hormones that happens over the course of her cycle. This is known to DECREASE breast cancer. Because, overall (though not true for many of us) vegans tend to carry less body fat, and women's bodies store estrogen in fat, they have fewer estrogen-related problems. More body fat, more estrogen storage and more effects from that estrogen. Weigh less, store less, another known influence over breast cancer."

So I am going to believe that the pros out way the cons, and you know what...I feel better on this meat less diet. I have energy and I'm not hungry, so I'm not eating as much. If I felt worse, I would stop it immediately and go back to eating steak and cheese, two foods I adore.

If you find articles about veganism and health please pass them along.

I have the Unique Privelage of being me

2008-01-02T19:50:00.000-08:00

For all my disasters in life, I am acutely aware of how blessed I am. I'm a pretty cool chick. I have great friends. A steady family base. Decent spirituality. I'm artistic. I'm creative. I'm encourageable (which I find a postive!). I love to laugh. And I can admit I cried the first time i saw Titanic. I own 2 Celiene Dion cds. I have 12 journals of which I have written in 5 pages or less. I constantly have dry scalp, but hell, I've got good hair. I enjoy eating seaweed, and I think that makes me down right cool. I've lived in a few states, I've visited all of them except Hawaii, which, strangely enough, I have no interest in. I am really smart. It's pretty amazing actually. And I love my smile. My sense of humor is great, and I can laugh at myself, because honestly I can get a bit loopy sometimes. But it's an honest loopy. And I love people with such compassion, I would never hurt anyone, whether I care for them or not.

I own my home. At the age of 23 or 24 (I can't remember which) I decided I wanted a home. And I went out and bought one. I have such determination. I don't plan well, but I always make it through with tremendous sucess. I am lucky. For Christmas Viv gave me two scratcher tickets and both won! I have some of the most amazing coworkers who have incredible life stories. I make decent money and I can provide for my children (who, coincidently happen to be extremely healthy and robust).

I am blessed to understand and appreciate our planet, and feel as though the small contributions I make (brining my own bags to the grocery store or buying eco-friendly produce) really do make a difference, because I have to believe small things matter. For instance think about how powerful being in love feels, and how that eminates between only 2 people outward, spilling blessings and positive energy throughout the world.

I have made so many good choices in my life. Having Payton and Chloe. That was the best choice. Trading in my Prius for the CRV. Marrying Chris. I really lucked out on that one, though I didn't know it for a long time. Moving to Richmond. Learning to pray.

Yes, I can be silly, obnoxious, moody, and irritable. I can be selfish and heartless and stand-offish. But I love my friends and pretty much everyone else to. And I am proud of who I am. And feel so blessed to be quirky in a sea of normalcy.

Anyhow, thats it.

Forrest for the Trees

2007-12-30T19:53:00.000-08:00

Today was a whole revolution of mood swings. I started out feeling like the word "linguine" feels to say out loud. Linguine. Liquid. Full of movement outward, searching for that slightly downward sloping direction to roll into. But soon the surface was flat, and I was still. Angrily still. I was in a hole. And then the word became something closer to "stagnant". I adore the word stagnant, because it sounds like the inaction of it's definition. Similar to stop.

Sometimes when typing the word stop I pause for a second afterwards. Stop has a definite end, stop demands to be recognized, stop conveys an attitude of absolute authority.

By 11:30 I was "stagnant". Which frayed into "frazzled" after leaving the parking lot of the gym, without ever going into the gym. My being encompassed "frazzled". My hair frizzed out into the rainy climate, uncooperative to the effort of my hands constantly mashing my bushy mane back down to a respectable shape. Frazzled. Fumbling. I ran a red light because I was reaching down to pick up my phone which I had dropped when putting a cd into the disc player while driving 52 in 45 mph zone.

By the time I made it home, un-exercised (please allow me to make up that word), my "frazzled" mood swooped down to "dull" and curled up in bed at 1:30pm. My husband, bless him or beat him, will not allow me to sleep during the day. And he comes into the bedroom and rips off the covers and says "Get up! Let's go get a snicker's blizzard." Mmmm, snicker's blizzard. My happy food. And totally non-vegan. But let's not think about that right now.

So I'm in the car with the kids, the neighbor's kid and we are munching on snickers blizzards and I'm feeling unsure, but reluctant to let go of the power that "dull" held over me for the last hour. Because "dull" was intense, with it's brute hands pushing my shoulders down, squeezing my face, telling me not to breathe. But then we head to Barnes and Nobel and before long I have abandoned "dull" though his residue is still on my hands and my cheeks.

And for a bit I am in the rare moment of "me". An hour roaming the shelves of Barnes and Nobles, reading Vegan cookbooks, counting the classic literature novels I own and those I hope to own, learning new positions from the cosmo sex books, and gasping over breathless poetry. But "me" is gone as soon as Chris announces he is tired of following the kids and it is now my turn. And then I become "no we arn't buying that", "don't whine", "be nice to your sister", "come back here", "no I said we arn't buying that", "because i said so".

By 5:30 I am "drab". Will I fall asleep before 8:30 tonight? What will I make for dinner? Do I have to go back to work next week? Why can't I finish anything I start? Where is so and so and what are they doing right now? Can I bare this baseness tomorrow?

All these words and questions and feelings and obligations.

When I got the chance
I asked them a slew of questions.
They offered to burn me.
It was all they knew.

How can I expect so much from just a word? How can I expect salvation by simply running towards the word "peace"? Surely once I capture that word it will be fleeting, like type on the page, jumping from word to word, barely noticing the paragraph for my obsession with the descender on the letter "g" in the word "unchanging".

You are my Heroine

2007-12-29T19:56:00.000-08:00

As with most scheduled activities, I was 5 minutes late to my yoga class this morning. But I made it, breathless as the class was beginning pranayama exercises. I have to admit I haven't been to yoga for maybe 8 months, and saying I was "rusty" is a dramatic understatement. Into the second down dog my wrist were shaking, and my back was saying "hey lady, if you want me to stretch out, then those legs down there are gonna have to stretch first". The triangle pose required me to hold my arms straight out from my sides for 10, maybe 20 minutes, leaving them feeling lifeless, like I'd been balancing a barrell of whiskey on the left, and basket of wet grapes on the right. I was so grateful when the instructor turned down the lights for savasana, I nearly started clapping. I laid there, in my corpse pose, staring at the white ceiling fan, and it occurred to me, I have never "cleared" my mind, even though the train of yoga instructors encouraged me to "be in the present". I think it's kinda funny for someone to say "don't think about anything" because I immediately start thinking about how I am not supposed to be thinking about how Payton needs a new pair of jeans, and I need to stop by the market and pick up sweet potatoes on my way home, and how this or that is such a disaster right now, and how I absolutely can not forget my therapy appointment at 12:30 today. Basically, it's an elephant in the yoga studio and the instructor is saying "yes I know its an elephant, and the elephant is stepping on your feet, and it's tail is tickling your nose, but DON'T pay attention to that elephant". Um, yeah, okay.

After yoga, I drove over to Ellwood Thompson Natural Market. Three years ago I would take Payton to a kid yoga in Carytown. While she stretched into the caterpillar and the iguana poses, I would browse the stalls of Ellwood Thompsons for the freshest organic fruit available that day. She would run out of the studio saying "What fruit today?!" And then smile her very Payton smile, a smile which stretches across her face lining up directly under her doughy gleeful eyes, and she would grab the nectarine or bunch of grapes from the bag and munch on her treasure during the drive home, stretched, relaxed, and healthful.

So I was in Elwood Thompson's this morning, adoring the ripe strawberries and golden pears, all natural, all organic, all very very expensive. In a market like this, with fresh locally grown produce, my relationship with food becomes sensual. I looked at each bit of produce like a jewel, like a gift which I glorify myself to be worthy of consuming. I held them like I would my favorite wine glass, with care and adoration. And I placed them gently into my brown sack, choosing only what I need to make Butternut Squash and Pear Soup for dinner. 1 sweet potato. 1 butternut squash. 2 pears. 1 red pepper. 1 onion. A small can of coconut milk. A container of earth balance. Oh, and a slice of vegan zucchini bread as my own personal treat to enjoy on the ride home.

So I made it home. Chris gawked a bit at the $15 bill for food to make yet another vegan dinner. His patience is wearing, though this meal will feed us for 2, maybe 3 meals. Payton and Chloe wanted to make chocolate chip cookies, so I employed their help in the kitchen cleaning, decluttering, and then finally the baking. Below is proof of our endeavor. I discovered a new faux-egg mixture, a powder that combines with water to have the same congealing properties of real eggs. Payton's friend came over and we served the kids chocolate chip cookies with soy milk, but they weren't fooled, and the soy milk was quickly exchanged for regular old skim milk.