So, I take that back about wanting to sleep next to the baby. Yup, he woke up 492350 times last night. What with his first big cold/snot and the travel at Christmas, his somnolence system is out of whack. Its hardly ever in whack, really. I'm hoping that by the time he's 5, he'll be sleeping through the night.
In other news, this bio/fiction about Michelangelo is taking 4-evah to read. I have a terribly delightful book waiting for me, and its getting impatient. Plus, I shelved Michelangelo for a bit while reading Daddy-Long-Legs. I'm getting a bit tired of the Italian Rennaisance. The Popes are a crooked lot and Michelangelo spends great periods of his life in political drudgery. Also, I'm not buying these romances with these whimsical women.
Anyhoo, must get my reading in while I can (naptime). In MY Maslow's Hierarchy, reading is right after physiological needs. Otherwise, I'm not a person.
Good day.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Little Buddy
So, it's bedtime around here. The baby has been asleep for a while and I am already missing him. (don't want to jinx myself and cause him to wake, but it's true.) I wish I could sleep with him next to me so I can put my arms around him and cuddle and smell him and listen to him breathe. But that would require some sort of make-believe land where he sleeps and I sleep and we all sleep all night in the same bed. Psshhyahhh. But he's so cute, dang it. Its hard not to just go sleep on the floor next to his crib.
It must be a primal, instinctive motivation. Feels like a yearning, a temptation. Want want want. Love love love. Care care care. Work work work. Tired tired tired. Frustrated frustrated frustrated. Care care care. Nap nap nap. Want want want. Love love love. Something like that.
That is all.
Good night.
It must be a primal, instinctive motivation. Feels like a yearning, a temptation. Want want want. Love love love. Care care care. Work work work. Tired tired tired. Frustrated frustrated frustrated. Care care care. Nap nap nap. Want want want. Love love love. Something like that.
That is all.
Good night.
Where is MY Christmas Break?!
Right now I'm watching my son standing up with the help of a dining room chair. He is literally squealing, clenching every muscle in his body (including his cheek muscles) with delight. Oh, now he's on tiptoe.
Right now I am also listening to a Rafi cd my friend Meg gave us. I tell ya, it is rather pleasant listening. Right now we're enjoying a song about bowling.
Right now I'm coughing - well, no, right now I'm TYPING about coughing. But one second ago I was coughing. The kind of cough that hurts. I caught the cold that Woodworker and Buckaroo had. I held a moral high-ground for some days because I was doing saline washes (up the nose) diligently, which Woodworker poopooed; yet, I seemed to avoid the yuck. But there are only so many days of wiping your son's wretched snotty face without having some impact on your immune system. Anyway, I feel pretty crappy and this is my first time feeling this sick while parenting. As I've said every day since he was born (practically), I don't know how people do this over and over. But, I'm reminded of what my sister Liz said to me during that first newborn week: all those moments when you don't know how you're going to do it, you ARE doing it.
This year, the holidays have precipitated in me a yearning for my youth. I'm certain this is because my entire reality, my entire existence has been modified by motherhood. And I hope that doesn't sound like I'm resenting my new reality, but that I'm often puzzled by it. Or perhaps I will invent a word: buzzled. Because I'm constantly buzzing around, chasing after the baby and my mind, puzzled and befuddled. I'm trying to remain faithful that future Christmases will have more opportunities for quiet moments by the glow of the tree. Surely. For instance, future Christmases probably won't involve Buckaroo sleeping (sort of) in the pack-and-play while his parents try to sleep (sort of) in the same room - that being my brother Sergei's room at my parents' house. Thank you a jillion times, Sergei, for cleaning your room and offering it to us!
It is becoming clear to me how attached I am to the cozy, sweet magic of Christmas! I think I spent so many years as a single adult with my own quiet independence to embrace the magic moments of the holidays that this very buzzled version seems like an intrusion at times. I'm adapting. Besides, how many of those solo Christmases did I feel the woe of singledom? Now I have what I always wanted!
But it WAS a magic couple of days that we all shared sleeping at my parents' house. So much bounty of love and babies and laughter and snot and presents and cookies and everything! I want to share some of it, but I'm waiting for photos.
In the meantime, here is a photo of me and the Buckaroo from what feels like 57 years ago:
Update: Right now the babe is napping and I'm reclined on my bed. These are my moments of rejuvenation. Resting in the quiet.
Look at this little goofball. Is he not delicious? He looks so little to me here. Look at his teenie fingers curled. So silly. Ahhhnnn. Back when he was a blob and didn't crawl away from me when I changed his diapers.
Currently I'm trying to master how to change a very poopy diaper when the wearer will not stay still. These are the moments that make me think of very cold martinis. But, at the same time, I have a sense of satisfaction for his healthy elimination. How disgusting is that?
Befuddled,
Nellie
Right now I am also listening to a Rafi cd my friend Meg gave us. I tell ya, it is rather pleasant listening. Right now we're enjoying a song about bowling.
Right now I'm coughing - well, no, right now I'm TYPING about coughing. But one second ago I was coughing. The kind of cough that hurts. I caught the cold that Woodworker and Buckaroo had. I held a moral high-ground for some days because I was doing saline washes (up the nose) diligently, which Woodworker poopooed; yet, I seemed to avoid the yuck. But there are only so many days of wiping your son's wretched snotty face without having some impact on your immune system. Anyway, I feel pretty crappy and this is my first time feeling this sick while parenting. As I've said every day since he was born (practically), I don't know how people do this over and over. But, I'm reminded of what my sister Liz said to me during that first newborn week: all those moments when you don't know how you're going to do it, you ARE doing it.
This year, the holidays have precipitated in me a yearning for my youth. I'm certain this is because my entire reality, my entire existence has been modified by motherhood. And I hope that doesn't sound like I'm resenting my new reality, but that I'm often puzzled by it. Or perhaps I will invent a word: buzzled. Because I'm constantly buzzing around, chasing after the baby and my mind, puzzled and befuddled. I'm trying to remain faithful that future Christmases will have more opportunities for quiet moments by the glow of the tree. Surely. For instance, future Christmases probably won't involve Buckaroo sleeping (sort of) in the pack-and-play while his parents try to sleep (sort of) in the same room - that being my brother Sergei's room at my parents' house. Thank you a jillion times, Sergei, for cleaning your room and offering it to us!
It is becoming clear to me how attached I am to the cozy, sweet magic of Christmas! I think I spent so many years as a single adult with my own quiet independence to embrace the magic moments of the holidays that this very buzzled version seems like an intrusion at times. I'm adapting. Besides, how many of those solo Christmases did I feel the woe of singledom? Now I have what I always wanted!
But it WAS a magic couple of days that we all shared sleeping at my parents' house. So much bounty of love and babies and laughter and snot and presents and cookies and everything! I want to share some of it, but I'm waiting for photos.
In the meantime, here is a photo of me and the Buckaroo from what feels like 57 years ago:
Update: Right now the babe is napping and I'm reclined on my bed. These are my moments of rejuvenation. Resting in the quiet.
Look at this little goofball. Is he not delicious? He looks so little to me here. Look at his teenie fingers curled. So silly. Ahhhnnn. Back when he was a blob and didn't crawl away from me when I changed his diapers.
Currently I'm trying to master how to change a very poopy diaper when the wearer will not stay still. These are the moments that make me think of very cold martinis. But, at the same time, I have a sense of satisfaction for his healthy elimination. How disgusting is that?
Befuddled,
Nellie
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Ritual
Nearly every year at Christmastime since I was, oh, maybe 15 I have read a book called "Daddy Long Legs" by Jean Webster. It's certainly a younger person's novel. But I continue to read it nonetheless. I think I received it for Christmas, and now it is part of the delights of the Season. It was first published in 1912 so I always feel old-fashioned and cozy when I read it. It is essentially a love story about an orphan that is sent to college by a mysterious benefactor. I love the descriptions of her college life, her minimal expenses, her clothes, her adventures. It transports me.
This year, however, I had a much different experience with this reading. In all years past, I could collapse into the reading and disregard everything else. Now that I'm a mom, that is not possible, and I found myself begrudging that reality. Then I found myself feeling guilty about begrudging it. Then I felt aged. As with everything in the whole universe that I experience through the new lens of motherhood, I could not have imagined that my beloved yearly ritual would feel so altered. And its not just the lack of feeling carefree as I read it, but how much I feel all the feelings that the story conjures. Oiy, the feelings.
Last night I finished the book. Always bittersweet. Now I return to "The Agony and the Ecstasy" and the drama of the Sistine Chapel. But I might have to wait a couple of days, to let the sweet simplicity of my yearly escapism remain a bit longer.
Loving the magic,
Nellie
This year, however, I had a much different experience with this reading. In all years past, I could collapse into the reading and disregard everything else. Now that I'm a mom, that is not possible, and I found myself begrudging that reality. Then I found myself feeling guilty about begrudging it. Then I felt aged. As with everything in the whole universe that I experience through the new lens of motherhood, I could not have imagined that my beloved yearly ritual would feel so altered. And its not just the lack of feeling carefree as I read it, but how much I feel all the feelings that the story conjures. Oiy, the feelings.
Last night I finished the book. Always bittersweet. Now I return to "The Agony and the Ecstasy" and the drama of the Sistine Chapel. But I might have to wait a couple of days, to let the sweet simplicity of my yearly escapism remain a bit longer.
Loving the magic,
Nellie
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
I Do Love Christmas Cards, I Do
Contrary to a recent post, I do really very super much love Christmas cards. I am concerned because since that post, I've found only one card in the mailbox. Is it that I'm on some holiday blacklist for being such a badmouth? Dear me, no! I apologize. I love Christmas cards. Big time for reals.
Perhaps its that everyone else is just as busy as everyone else is, and it's hard to get the family card out in a timely manner. It should come to nobody's surprise that the card I have received was from Yuki. And SHE has a newborn! One should not compare oneself to Yuki.
Also know that I abandoned the ridiculous homemade mess and ordered my cards from one of the delightful, reputable online retailers. I am reformed.
In other news, its CHRSTMASTIME!!!!! We have our tree; it's beautiful. The living room is aglow. Woodworker risked life and limb to hang lights on the front of the house. The front yard is aglow. I'm constantly yanking Buckaroo away from the tree because he wants to put the entire thing in his mouth. Buckaroo is aglow.
I'm starting to get excited in that difficult-to-describe way. Bouts of thrill, of joy, of contentment, of appreciation, of wistfulness, of romance, of commerce fatigue, of calories, of creativity, etc. There is a legend in our family: my cousin Rachel is about 6 years old, maybe in first grade. She's very excited about Christmastime. One day in class, her teacher hears a noise coming from the closet. It is Rachel, sitting in the closet singing Christmas carols, doing her work. It is just too much for her to contain; she must sing. That's what I'm talking about.
Today we will close with an image of Buckaroo and Woodworker in front of the washer/dryer. This is Buck's favorite location in the whole house. He waves at them when we walk by; he dances when they're in action; he watches with bated breath when I put clothes in or pull them out; he perks up from the far reaches of the house when he hears their f*%#&! chimes (because the f*$@$#!! chimes are so go*$#*?! loud). Also please note the cute blue sleeper he's wearing. Because that sleeper just went to heaven this morning, and Buckaroo took a bath, after an incident that I'll let you surmise.
And I'm off to check the mailbox, as I anticipate the arrival of my own batch of cards from the magical online card place any day now.
Season's Greetings.
Nellie
Perhaps its that everyone else is just as busy as everyone else is, and it's hard to get the family card out in a timely manner. It should come to nobody's surprise that the card I have received was from Yuki. And SHE has a newborn! One should not compare oneself to Yuki.
Also know that I abandoned the ridiculous homemade mess and ordered my cards from one of the delightful, reputable online retailers. I am reformed.
In other news, its CHRSTMASTIME!!!!! We have our tree; it's beautiful. The living room is aglow. Woodworker risked life and limb to hang lights on the front of the house. The front yard is aglow. I'm constantly yanking Buckaroo away from the tree because he wants to put the entire thing in his mouth. Buckaroo is aglow.
I'm starting to get excited in that difficult-to-describe way. Bouts of thrill, of joy, of contentment, of appreciation, of wistfulness, of romance, of commerce fatigue, of calories, of creativity, etc. There is a legend in our family: my cousin Rachel is about 6 years old, maybe in first grade. She's very excited about Christmastime. One day in class, her teacher hears a noise coming from the closet. It is Rachel, sitting in the closet singing Christmas carols, doing her work. It is just too much for her to contain; she must sing. That's what I'm talking about.
Today we will close with an image of Buckaroo and Woodworker in front of the washer/dryer. This is Buck's favorite location in the whole house. He waves at them when we walk by; he dances when they're in action; he watches with bated breath when I put clothes in or pull them out; he perks up from the far reaches of the house when he hears their f*%#&! chimes (because the f*$@$#!! chimes are so go*$#*?! loud). Also please note the cute blue sleeper he's wearing. Because that sleeper just went to heaven this morning, and Buckaroo took a bath, after an incident that I'll let you surmise.
And I'm off to check the mailbox, as I anticipate the arrival of my own batch of cards from the magical online card place any day now.
Season's Greetings.
Nellie
Monday, December 6, 2010
...In a galaxy far, far away...
HUGE REVELATION HERE: So, on Saturday night I was talking to my friend Todd at the gallery reception (ahem, my husband and his business partner own an art gallery just down the block from our house) and he told me something that may change the course of my life:
He traveled to Tunisia and visited the sites where Star Wars was filmed and actually STAYED IN A HOTEL THAT HAS BEEN CONVERTED FROM ONE OF THE SET LOCATIONS. I am still short of breath just thinking about it. How did I not know that this was possible? How is it that I've known all these years that Lucas filmed a bunch of stuff in Tunisia (as did Spielberg for Raiders) but never imagined that actual mortal humans could tread upon the same places? My mind simply could not make that leap. Surely these locations were part of a magical dimension, out of our reach.
But no. People indeed visit them. A lot. The interwebs told me so.
We're going to TUNISIA!!!
Someday. Who knows. But yes it will happen. From my research, it looks like a lovely place. And I look forward to staying here:
...and I'll wear flowing robes (as will husband and Buck) and yell "Uncle Owen! Aunt Veru!!" with the rest of the huge dorks that go there. And I'll sulk atop a dune and stare at the double sunset, wishing I didn't have to stick around and help thru another harvest.
Then, we'll march around the desert, looking for Obi Wan's den, but we'll walk in single file to hide our numbers, as the Sand People do.
You know the exhilaration of having a new goal, a new dream? Ahhnnn. I am invigorated.
Yours with The Force,
Nellie
He traveled to Tunisia and visited the sites where Star Wars was filmed and actually STAYED IN A HOTEL THAT HAS BEEN CONVERTED FROM ONE OF THE SET LOCATIONS. I am still short of breath just thinking about it. How did I not know that this was possible? How is it that I've known all these years that Lucas filmed a bunch of stuff in Tunisia (as did Spielberg for Raiders) but never imagined that actual mortal humans could tread upon the same places? My mind simply could not make that leap. Surely these locations were part of a magical dimension, out of our reach.
But no. People indeed visit them. A lot. The interwebs told me so.
We're going to TUNISIA!!!
Someday. Who knows. But yes it will happen. From my research, it looks like a lovely place. And I look forward to staying here:
...and I'll wear flowing robes (as will husband and Buck) and yell "Uncle Owen! Aunt Veru!!" with the rest of the huge dorks that go there. And I'll sulk atop a dune and stare at the double sunset, wishing I didn't have to stick around and help thru another harvest.Then, we'll march around the desert, looking for Obi Wan's den, but we'll walk in single file to hide our numbers, as the Sand People do.
You know the exhilaration of having a new goal, a new dream? Ahhnnn. I am invigorated.
Yours with The Force,
Nellie
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Lessons Yet Learned
So, I'm feeling that the litmus for having-your-**it-together as new moms is whether you can get a birth announcement in the mail. Well, I sure didn't manage even to consider that. Therefore, Tier 2 of Having-Your-**it-Together is getting a holiday card in the mail. I really really really want to get this done.
But this is where I have a lesson yet learned. Because in my desire to be original, I've made it way too complicated. And today I HATE holiday cards. And I hate my printer and I hate the uncute templates available everywhere and I hate Microsoft Word (most of all!!!) and I hate photography. This is so not the first time I've taken the winding road.
Of course, looking over my mess on the dining room table (which my husband hates) is the adorable - and finished and delivered - holiday card from my sister with a photo of my 2 perfect nieces dressed in their holiday pajamas. The key to her success was forethought. I don't have that skill. I have Forethought Deficiency. It was bad before I was a mom and now it is complete dystrophy.
Of course, if you ask my sister how it all came together, she'd probably say that after that photo, she hates her kids.
Anyway, you may or may not get a holiday card from me and my adorable family. Because my printer just ran out of ink. And acquiring another ink cartridge right away would be a Herculean task for my skill set.
And as you can see, I'd much rather blog about it than do anything about it anyway.
Good night.
But this is where I have a lesson yet learned. Because in my desire to be original, I've made it way too complicated. And today I HATE holiday cards. And I hate my printer and I hate the uncute templates available everywhere and I hate Microsoft Word (most of all!!!) and I hate photography. This is so not the first time I've taken the winding road.
Of course, looking over my mess on the dining room table (which my husband hates) is the adorable - and finished and delivered - holiday card from my sister with a photo of my 2 perfect nieces dressed in their holiday pajamas. The key to her success was forethought. I don't have that skill. I have Forethought Deficiency. It was bad before I was a mom and now it is complete dystrophy.
Of course, if you ask my sister how it all came together, she'd probably say that after that photo, she hates her kids.
Anyway, you may or may not get a holiday card from me and my adorable family. Because my printer just ran out of ink. And acquiring another ink cartridge right away would be a Herculean task for my skill set.
And as you can see, I'd much rather blog about it than do anything about it anyway.
Good night.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Art Outside; Art Inside.
Autumn is my absolute favorite. Blustery and dramatic. Batten down the hatches and get cozy. Bundle up and go for walks. Recently Buckaroo and I took the camera with us on one of these walks. I was struck by this carpet of golden leaves in the lane. (You can't say road; you must say 'lane'.)
The leaves seemed to give off their own light. The world glowed beneath that tree. Buckaroo liked it but wondered why he was left in the middle of the lane. (Again, lane.) Here you see his skepticism:
In other news: I think you should see how crafty I've been recently. Lately, I've been amassing empty baby food bottles. They're so cute! Well. Just look at how cute they are now!!!
Adorable jars for my herbs and spices. Involved were simple address labels and a fine-point sharpie and sheer craft genius. I have extreme geek bliss when I open the cupboard and see all these bottles cozied up in there, waiting pertly to be used. Ahnnn.
Yours in creativity.
The leaves seemed to give off their own light. The world glowed beneath that tree. Buckaroo liked it but wondered why he was left in the middle of the lane. (Again, lane.) Here you see his skepticism:
In other news: I think you should see how crafty I've been recently. Lately, I've been amassing empty baby food bottles. They're so cute! Well. Just look at how cute they are now!!!
Adorable jars for my herbs and spices. Involved were simple address labels and a fine-point sharpie and sheer craft genius. I have extreme geek bliss when I open the cupboard and see all these bottles cozied up in there, waiting pertly to be used. Ahnnn.
Yours in creativity.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Shelter
I looked out my kitchen window recently and saw this:
Aaaahhhgghh!! Yiccchhh. Mushrooms. Zillions of them overnight. Gross. Its like my lawn has a rash. I hate HATE rashes. This is why my son seems to be developing eczema. Yucky.
I ignored the mushrooms for several days. I was reminded of my youth: when we lived on the farm, I remember a ritual of my mother's: we would fly out the back door to play in the yard, Mom would follow us and patiently pace up and down the lawn stomping to nothing any mushrooms she saw. Lest we put them in our mouths, you see. I see her now, head down, strolling, pausing, stomping, strolling.
Eventually, I decided I should ignore the itchies and just go out there and look at them. With much trepidation, I forced myself to look at them. Eventually I realized something very important. Hello. The faeries use the mushrooms as shelter from the rain! Yay!
Here you have my up close examination of the faerie bus shelters:
This one is nice. At a distance from the others, you really have to make a run for it. Tho, I imagine faeries scamper. Or flit. At this age, I don't do these things unless champagne is involved.
These are more like A-frame shelters. The Swiss chalet look in faerie bus stops. Several clustered together, this is a civic gathering place!
Here's another shot of the pointy huts. Imagine you're the faerie and the grass is your obstacle. Its a lot of work flitting around. One must stop and chat and sip faerie champagne frequently.
Finally, the Mall-of-America of faerie bus stops. Here you are, the faerie, looking up the hill at this metropolis. Soon you'll be there, resting your wee slippers on a wee seat, laughing and twirling your sparkly faerie hair, throwing magic dust at unsuspecting passers-by.
Oh no!! In the distance, its the massive Yard Monster!! He seems occupied with a poor ladybug or perhaps a spider. Hurry and hide, before he startles and notices us!
Anyway, last week we had our first freeze and the big snowstorm. Now all the mushrooms look limp and useless. They're sort of back to being gross blobs on my lawn. I continue to ignore them.
Aaaahhhgghh!! Yiccchhh. Mushrooms. Zillions of them overnight. Gross. Its like my lawn has a rash. I hate HATE rashes. This is why my son seems to be developing eczema. Yucky.I ignored the mushrooms for several days. I was reminded of my youth: when we lived on the farm, I remember a ritual of my mother's: we would fly out the back door to play in the yard, Mom would follow us and patiently pace up and down the lawn stomping to nothing any mushrooms she saw. Lest we put them in our mouths, you see. I see her now, head down, strolling, pausing, stomping, strolling.
Eventually, I decided I should ignore the itchies and just go out there and look at them. With much trepidation, I forced myself to look at them. Eventually I realized something very important. Hello. The faeries use the mushrooms as shelter from the rain! Yay!
Here you have my up close examination of the faerie bus shelters:
This one is nice. At a distance from the others, you really have to make a run for it. Tho, I imagine faeries scamper. Or flit. At this age, I don't do these things unless champagne is involved.
These are more like A-frame shelters. The Swiss chalet look in faerie bus stops. Several clustered together, this is a civic gathering place!
Here's another shot of the pointy huts. Imagine you're the faerie and the grass is your obstacle. Its a lot of work flitting around. One must stop and chat and sip faerie champagne frequently.
Finally, the Mall-of-America of faerie bus stops. Here you are, the faerie, looking up the hill at this metropolis. Soon you'll be there, resting your wee slippers on a wee seat, laughing and twirling your sparkly faerie hair, throwing magic dust at unsuspecting passers-by.
Oh no!! In the distance, its the massive Yard Monster!! He seems occupied with a poor ladybug or perhaps a spider. Hurry and hide, before he startles and notices us!
Anyway, last week we had our first freeze and the big snowstorm. Now all the mushrooms look limp and useless. They're sort of back to being gross blobs on my lawn. I continue to ignore them.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
On Gratitude
I feel sheepish about my previous post, which showed what was clearly a case of poopy pants on my part. I thought about changing it or taking it down, but then I decided I should be letting my true colors show - all of them. And sometimes I'm tired and discouraged. BUT!! Let it be known that, on this day of giving thanks, I have a very full life. It is bursting with people who love me and whom I love.
On my birthday I heard from kajillions of loved-ones, and I felt it. I got really thoughtful gifts that I've arranged on the dining table and that I'm looking at right now. I got a hilarious and vulgar e-card from AmyW. I got to hold a beautiful newborn. I had delicious posole soup. And, again, it was heaven to hang out with my family.
Today we were able to go to Woodworker's parents' house despite the icky weather. I didn't have to lift a finger. Thanksgiving dinner was delicious, relaxed, delightful. Buckaroo even took a little nap there. And he was very cuddly with his grandparents.
I'm eating apple pie right now.
I'm reading "The Agony and the Ecstacy" these days. I don't know why this didn't happen sooner. I find it gripping, in an art historical kind of way. Its replete with witty Florentine aphorisms, such as "God bends the back to the burden." Ahhhnnnn.
My husband finally wore the argyle sweater I got him for Christmas last year. Incredible. Yay.
I just finished the pie. Like, the pie pan is empty. Happy Thanksgiving!
Love, Nellie
Pie
Happy Thanksgiving! It is snowing buckets here. So, we're supposed to have a nasty winter this year. And in my never-ending obsession with Laura Ingalls Wilder, I've been thinking of the book "The Long Winter". Remember how they had to huddle around their stove for weeks on end in a scary winter doldrum, sparingly burning clumps of straw? And remember how the town was starting to grow hungry so Pa burst into Almanzo's bachelor pad and insisted he share some of his wheat grain stash?
So, this week we have seen the beginning of our long winter, perhaps you've heard. This is the first winter in our house and we are discovering the MANY drafty spots. Tis an old house. Lots of towels against doors, lots of frosty windows. And, indeed, like the Ingalls family, we stay near the stove.
We are also seeing the beginning of Mr. Buckaroo crawling everywhere. You realize real quick how dirty your floor is. Drats. And we've got the space heaters and the gas stove blazing so I'm constantly running interference against him. Its hard to get anything done!
Yesterday was my 37th birthday. Tho, I told the boys at the bakery that it was my 19th birthday. And I found out that the village patriarch shares my birthday - he turned 95!! Happy birthday Len.
My parents and one of my brothers (Tom) and one of my sisters (Emma) came up to spend the afternoon with me and Buck. They brought delightful presents and we had take-out thai. I had a birthday apple pie, homemade, which was almost unspeakably delicious. We sipped tea and sat around the stove and stared at the baby. He's silly.
I sort of didn't want this birthday. Mom always says that you don't know how you're gonna feel til you get there. I was feeling sort of blue about this birthday, but seeing my family during the day was a pick-me-up. I think (I know) that I'd feel more positively if I weren't so flippin' tired all the time. I have felt the same trepidation about the holidays. They just seem like hard work. Pre-parenthood, the holidays meant fun, busy-ness, joy, stress AND rest. Now it seems that our days might have fun, but there's no rest. Just more exhaustion. More effort. As you can see, I'm still adjusting to this persistent parenthood thing.
But someday, its inevitable, Buckaroo will sleep more consistently. And I will get sleep. It will happen.
I suppose I should mention that we've all got colds. And its made us (me) grumpier than normal. Nevertheless, my husband got me the most thoughtful present (gift certificate, photo frame, baskets), put up with my blues, and hugged me tight.
And I had pie right before I got in bed, and I had pie first thing this morning. Glorious!
So, this week we have seen the beginning of our long winter, perhaps you've heard. This is the first winter in our house and we are discovering the MANY drafty spots. Tis an old house. Lots of towels against doors, lots of frosty windows. And, indeed, like the Ingalls family, we stay near the stove.
We are also seeing the beginning of Mr. Buckaroo crawling everywhere. You realize real quick how dirty your floor is. Drats. And we've got the space heaters and the gas stove blazing so I'm constantly running interference against him. Its hard to get anything done!
Yesterday was my 37th birthday. Tho, I told the boys at the bakery that it was my 19th birthday. And I found out that the village patriarch shares my birthday - he turned 95!! Happy birthday Len.
My parents and one of my brothers (Tom) and one of my sisters (Emma) came up to spend the afternoon with me and Buck. They brought delightful presents and we had take-out thai. I had a birthday apple pie, homemade, which was almost unspeakably delicious. We sipped tea and sat around the stove and stared at the baby. He's silly.
I sort of didn't want this birthday. Mom always says that you don't know how you're gonna feel til you get there. I was feeling sort of blue about this birthday, but seeing my family during the day was a pick-me-up. I think (I know) that I'd feel more positively if I weren't so flippin' tired all the time. I have felt the same trepidation about the holidays. They just seem like hard work. Pre-parenthood, the holidays meant fun, busy-ness, joy, stress AND rest. Now it seems that our days might have fun, but there's no rest. Just more exhaustion. More effort. As you can see, I'm still adjusting to this persistent parenthood thing.
But someday, its inevitable, Buckaroo will sleep more consistently. And I will get sleep. It will happen.
I suppose I should mention that we've all got colds. And its made us (me) grumpier than normal. Nevertheless, my husband got me the most thoughtful present (gift certificate, photo frame, baskets), put up with my blues, and hugged me tight.
And I had pie right before I got in bed, and I had pie first thing this morning. Glorious!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Addendum to Last Night's Post
1. It should be said that the day before yesterday, Mom came up here and had fun with us.
2. Buckaroo slept much better last night. He only woke up twice. And I got actual hours of sleep in a row. Happy Saturday!!!
2. Buckaroo slept much better last night. He only woke up twice. And I got actual hours of sleep in a row. Happy Saturday!!!
Friday, November 19, 2010
Dleep Seprivation
Last night I didn't get much sleep. This has been the theme of my life since Buckaroo was born. He is proving to be a very VERY late bloomer in the sleeping category. Also, he has a cold right now. And I think he was having gas pains.
ANYWAY. Today has been difficult. As have many days since he was born because of the sleep deprivation. I need a lot of sleep. Things had been improving the past couple of weeks so I have a bit more perspective on how the deprivation was messing with me today. I am realizing that I'm not that crazy or miserable by nature, but I've just been very tired for a very long time.
For instance, my sister Liz left me a longish voicemail today about how the lady in front of her at Starbucks paid for the following 3 customers. At one point I forgot I was listening to a voicemail and actually started talking to her like she was on the other line. When I realized I'd done that, I started laughing and then it was laugh-crying. Waaah. My brain is mush. Just fits and starts, I tell ya.
So I called her to make her feel bad about how tired I was, and she was with our Mom on the way to the fabric store to have all sorts of fun without me. (They live well over an hour away, so its not like Buck and I could have jumped on board anyway. Plus, no room with her 2 kids' car seats. But whatever.) So I told her I thought that was bullshit and not fair that they were having fun without me. So she asked me if she should have made up a lie about what they were doing? She and mom thought that was funny so they were yucking it up while I kicked at nothing and tried to find something else to complain about. But she hadn't gotten any sleep either and she has TWO kids, so I had to shut up.
I'm going to bed now. We made it through the day. I have a considerable amount of my son's snot on my sweater. But that's about the worst of it. Nervous about how much sleep I will/won't get tonight. But we must go through the night nonetheless.
Sweet dreams.
ANYWAY. Today has been difficult. As have many days since he was born because of the sleep deprivation. I need a lot of sleep. Things had been improving the past couple of weeks so I have a bit more perspective on how the deprivation was messing with me today. I am realizing that I'm not that crazy or miserable by nature, but I've just been very tired for a very long time.
For instance, my sister Liz left me a longish voicemail today about how the lady in front of her at Starbucks paid for the following 3 customers. At one point I forgot I was listening to a voicemail and actually started talking to her like she was on the other line. When I realized I'd done that, I started laughing and then it was laugh-crying. Waaah. My brain is mush. Just fits and starts, I tell ya.
So I called her to make her feel bad about how tired I was, and she was with our Mom on the way to the fabric store to have all sorts of fun without me. (They live well over an hour away, so its not like Buck and I could have jumped on board anyway. Plus, no room with her 2 kids' car seats. But whatever.) So I told her I thought that was bullshit and not fair that they were having fun without me. So she asked me if she should have made up a lie about what they were doing? She and mom thought that was funny so they were yucking it up while I kicked at nothing and tried to find something else to complain about. But she hadn't gotten any sleep either and she has TWO kids, so I had to shut up.
I'm going to bed now. We made it through the day. I have a considerable amount of my son's snot on my sweater. But that's about the worst of it. Nervous about how much sleep I will/won't get tonight. But we must go through the night nonetheless.
Sweet dreams.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Princess Buttercup!
So, the dauphin is marrying his commoner. (Tho the House of Windsor would surely not approve of my use of a French term.) I am delighted for them and for the Kingdom. I don't know too terribly much about her, but what I see of Kate Middleton, I like. I have to say, though, my heart stopped when I saw exactly what was on her ring finger. Can you imagine becoming betrothed with Princess Diana's very engagement ring? I'm verklempt. Here you see:
From yesterday's announcement. (didn't she have a smashing blue dress on?) I think it's truly heartfelt of William, and freaking brave of Kate. Not just any broad could do this. And you can go all over the interwebs to read what William said about the gesture. You can also read all the snarky yeah- or nay-sayers. But, you know, people are very attached to the memory of Diana. Myself included.
I must tell you, I have always loved this ring. So much so that it is one of the reasons I wanted a sapphire for my engagement ring. I kid you not. Look!
That's really my hand, I swear. Of course, we didn't reveal it at St. James Palace. Being commoners, we and our parents met for lunch at Olive Garden so Woodworker could give me the ring in proper ceremony. I'm not kidding. We met there for brunch so our parents could finally meet. And I had been (im)patiently waiting for the ring to be finished at the jewelers. So we all got to see its premier together. And it was all very splendid.
And, of course, you know what happens when you get rings like this. This:
Oh dear.
From yesterday's announcement. (didn't she have a smashing blue dress on?) I think it's truly heartfelt of William, and freaking brave of Kate. Not just any broad could do this. And you can go all over the interwebs to read what William said about the gesture. You can also read all the snarky yeah- or nay-sayers. But, you know, people are very attached to the memory of Diana. Myself included.I must tell you, I have always loved this ring. So much so that it is one of the reasons I wanted a sapphire for my engagement ring. I kid you not. Look!
That's really my hand, I swear. Of course, we didn't reveal it at St. James Palace. Being commoners, we and our parents met for lunch at Olive Garden so Woodworker could give me the ring in proper ceremony. I'm not kidding. We met there for brunch so our parents could finally meet. And I had been (im)patiently waiting for the ring to be finished at the jewelers. So we all got to see its premier together. And it was all very splendid.And, of course, you know what happens when you get rings like this. This:
Oh dear.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Wasted Resources
Last night I made No Bake Cookies. But they didn't work!!! *&$#@($!poop!! They aren't setting up. They're still mushy. I followed the recipe, dang it. Like, Liz and I used to make these cookies on a weekly basis back in high school. What went wrong?!?!
Buck and I went all the way to the store for ingredients and everything. That's wasted gas, wasted oatmeal-peanut butter-cocoa-sugar-butter, that's wasted time, that's wasted units on Buck's Patience-ometer.
I'm going to mush all the little piles together and try to make a sculpture or pie crust or face mask.
I realize I'm capable of more erudite posts. I'm bursting with important and worldly ideas, I am. But here we are. Cookies and babies.
Today: humbler efforts: folded laundry.
xo nellie
Buck and I went all the way to the store for ingredients and everything. That's wasted gas, wasted oatmeal-peanut butter-cocoa-sugar-butter, that's wasted time, that's wasted units on Buck's Patience-ometer.
I'm going to mush all the little piles together and try to make a sculpture or pie crust or face mask.
I realize I'm capable of more erudite posts. I'm bursting with important and worldly ideas, I am. But here we are. Cookies and babies.
Today: humbler efforts: folded laundry.
xo nellie
Monday, November 8, 2010
Leadership, Averting Disasters
We watched President Obama on 60 Minutes last night. Always a delight to see a leader speak succinctly. Although, I was suspicious of the editing. You just never know exactly what you're getting from a previously filmed interview in relation to the actual conversation.
Also, I would ask that next time another make-up artist be used. I noticed some cake-iness (sp?) in the close-ups that did not befit a president. He's probably dang tired, though, and they needed to conceal that. I hope his sojourn to India provides some R&R.
Its funny, when I began typing this entry, I started to type "Professor Obama". Rather fitting, though. He does sometimes seem to be patiently leading us towards an understanding of something. And I think its usually something he's just recently learned himself during these last 2 years of financial and health care ick. ("Ick" being the Beltway term, I'm told.) And we're all learning that he's learning that there are no clear fixes.
I know I'm not alone in hoping he would be a sort of FDR - coming in with a paradigm shift and confident, if not heroic, actions straight away. But how does anybody compete with FDR's first 100 days? I think fondly of the Civilian Conservation Corps, for one, but I'm a history DORK. And FDR was such an insider, part of Washington his whole career and stuff. And the world was different. I know that sounds sort of pat and simple, but whatever.
I am definitely of the camp that thinks Obama's Administration averted a potentially greater banking and economic mess. We just don't have any way of knowing what didn't happen, so we can't hold that up as testament. I like to think of him as having his finger in the proverbial dike, protecting the weary countryside, but now the weary countryside still has to find a new and better day. That's my overwrought metaphor. I do like my metaphors.
For instance, right now my son is sitting in his proverbial poopy diaper, unaware of its potential long-term effects on his delicate derriere. And I am going to sweep him up like the Coast Guard saves a flailing seaman, and I shall dredge that diaper of waste matter like the domestic engineer I've become. And then we're going to Ross for some afternoon shopping. But we don't have any money because, you know, the economy, so we'll just work on our Christmas Wish List.
Yours in Public Service,
Nellie
Also, I would ask that next time another make-up artist be used. I noticed some cake-iness (sp?) in the close-ups that did not befit a president. He's probably dang tired, though, and they needed to conceal that. I hope his sojourn to India provides some R&R.
Its funny, when I began typing this entry, I started to type "Professor Obama". Rather fitting, though. He does sometimes seem to be patiently leading us towards an understanding of something. And I think its usually something he's just recently learned himself during these last 2 years of financial and health care ick. ("Ick" being the Beltway term, I'm told.) And we're all learning that he's learning that there are no clear fixes.
I know I'm not alone in hoping he would be a sort of FDR - coming in with a paradigm shift and confident, if not heroic, actions straight away. But how does anybody compete with FDR's first 100 days? I think fondly of the Civilian Conservation Corps, for one, but I'm a history DORK. And FDR was such an insider, part of Washington his whole career and stuff. And the world was different. I know that sounds sort of pat and simple, but whatever.
I am definitely of the camp that thinks Obama's Administration averted a potentially greater banking and economic mess. We just don't have any way of knowing what didn't happen, so we can't hold that up as testament. I like to think of him as having his finger in the proverbial dike, protecting the weary countryside, but now the weary countryside still has to find a new and better day. That's my overwrought metaphor. I do like my metaphors.
For instance, right now my son is sitting in his proverbial poopy diaper, unaware of its potential long-term effects on his delicate derriere. And I am going to sweep him up like the Coast Guard saves a flailing seaman, and I shall dredge that diaper of waste matter like the domestic engineer I've become. And then we're going to Ross for some afternoon shopping. But we don't have any money because, you know, the economy, so we'll just work on our Christmas Wish List.
Yours in Public Service,
Nellie
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Baffled
I've just come downstairs. Where is my family? Seriously, at this very moment, I am alone in the house. Its Saturday morn, and we had all been rubbing our eyes in bed, wondering what on Earth caused Buckaroo to have such a rotten night's sleep. Woodworker mercifully took the baby downstairs so I could get a few more minute's rest. So for an hour I tried to ignore Buck's very inconsiderate loudness coming from below, and I got a bit more sleep.
But I've just come downstairs and they're GONE. One minute I'm slipping on my slippers and griping to myself about how loud that kid is, the next minute I am wondering where they went. Amazing. It also looks as if Dadda fed Buck some cereal and changed a diaper! Aren't you fascinated by all this?
So, me and my coffee and you in your virtual company. Hello. Here's a terrible self-portrait of me and the ever-perfect niece Juliana Margaret:
But wait, it gets better:
Aaaahhnnnn. She's so silly. Too silly. And go ahead, say it, she has wacky hair. But its so soft and whispy..... omg I loff her so moiche!!!Little pumpkin pie. Ahn. Other people's kids. Lovely.
Its baffling to me how this all works. How fully occupying this parenthood thing is. Sometimes (very occasionally) I'll realize I've been alone in my thoughts and not really in mommy mode - and its shakes me a little. It feels like 2 states, not integrated. I'm one of those people that needs alone time. It helps me get my mind sorted, to decompress, to - you know - keep my shit together. And I am still very much that person now. Motherhood didn't make that part of me go away. Motherhood did, however, make the opportunities to be alone much MUCH more scarce. That's challenging. I just have to share that.
So, while I have this quiet time, maybe I should shut the hell up and just BE in it. Not that I ever overthink anything and stuff.
xo Happy Saturday.
But I've just come downstairs and they're GONE. One minute I'm slipping on my slippers and griping to myself about how loud that kid is, the next minute I am wondering where they went. Amazing. It also looks as if Dadda fed Buck some cereal and changed a diaper! Aren't you fascinated by all this?
So, me and my coffee and you in your virtual company. Hello. Here's a terrible self-portrait of me and the ever-perfect niece Juliana Margaret:
But wait, it gets better:
Aaaahhnnnn. She's so silly. Too silly. And go ahead, say it, she has wacky hair. But its so soft and whispy..... omg I loff her so moiche!!!Little pumpkin pie. Ahn. Other people's kids. Lovely.
Its baffling to me how this all works. How fully occupying this parenthood thing is. Sometimes (very occasionally) I'll realize I've been alone in my thoughts and not really in mommy mode - and its shakes me a little. It feels like 2 states, not integrated. I'm one of those people that needs alone time. It helps me get my mind sorted, to decompress, to - you know - keep my shit together. And I am still very much that person now. Motherhood didn't make that part of me go away. Motherhood did, however, make the opportunities to be alone much MUCH more scarce. That's challenging. I just have to share that.
So, while I have this quiet time, maybe I should shut the hell up and just BE in it. Not that I ever overthink anything and stuff.
xo Happy Saturday.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Dear Alexa
Happy Birthday!!! Today is your 37th birthday, which means my 37th birthday is 20 days away! I miss you with every minuscule molecule of my being. I'm trying not to let my blubbering ways to get the best of me. You would want me to have a good day! It is a beautiful day, in fact. Very sunny. And I am quite well groomed today (relatively speaking) - you'd be proud of me. And your mom is coming to visit, and we're going to lunch, and we'll try not to cry, but we probably will. She is such an amazing woman. She continues to teach me so much about being a person in this crazy world.
Language is such a limiting tool at times like this. Words are like vessels that just aren't big enough to contain my meaning. Suffice to say, I wish you were here to see Buck. Well, you are here, but I wish I was sharing the time with you. But you already know that, I imagine.
I love you. But you already know that too.
xoxo ciya
Dear Everyone Else,
Today is Alexa's birthday. She's one of my bestest friends. She's been gone a little over two years now. I miss her. It hurts.
Language is such a limiting tool at times like this. Words are like vessels that just aren't big enough to contain my meaning. Suffice to say, I wish you were here to see Buck. Well, you are here, but I wish I was sharing the time with you. But you already know that, I imagine.
I love you. But you already know that too.
xoxo ciya
Dear Everyone Else,
Today is Alexa's birthday. She's one of my bestest friends. She's been gone a little over two years now. I miss her. It hurts.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Moments Hours Days Weeks Months
Today my baby is 8 months old. Pinch me. I'm so (nearly) inexplicably happy about this because in the early months of this journey I did not think I had it in me. But 8 months sounds substantial. An impressive accumulation of parenting moments. Hallelujah! I'm, you know, like, proud of myself. And, oh goodness in breathlessness and joy, is he ever cute. I love the sound of it - 8 months old. "How old is your baby?" "Eight months." See, that's me now.
To celebrate, I made him watch the recording of last night's episode of The Daily Show so he could see President Obama and John Stewart in all their role-model glory. Thank the heavens for both those men.
I can report that Buckaroo is NOT crawling yet, which is fine with me. He makes a scooty motion when he's sort of on all-fours. And he's good at covering some distance when he scoots in a sitting-up position. But that's it. He's so close, its obvious. But we still need to finish the banister upstairs and I really am not looking forward to keeping the floor clean and void of choking hazards.
In other news, October continues to be my most favorite month - hands down. Crisp and blustery weather! Fewer spiders! Coziness! Children in adorable costumes! Adults in inappropriately slutty costumes! Well, not around here, not with the slutty costumes. Farmers and hippies and artists don't do that.
Tonight is a jack-o-lantern party at our friends' house. So adorable. So very much in the land of families and stuff. I feel blessed.
Also, Buckaroo just took a proper nap. That's the best thing ever. EVARHHH.
Boo!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Several Sundays ago, we took a walk along a shore trail. Buckaroo rode on Dadda's back.
He whined himself to sleep, which was cute/funny. Please note how he's grasping the strap even as he sleeps. Pudgy, little, determined hand.
Our little region here is a soil-rich river delta, basically. There are lots of little sloughs that wend their way hither and yon. Quite a considerable network of old dikes were built well nigh a hundred years ago now (old pioneer talk) to create more farmland and keep the Sound at bay. A great habitat for birds, otters, oysters, salmon, ligers, unicorns. Right now is duck hunting season, which is annoying because I feel mortal fear when I walk along the dike.
Not so long ago, all this land was covered in thick forest. Settlers cleared it. Evidently, the first part of the 20th Century saw mostly oats grown around here. Before the railroads established freight ways, farmers would have their own granaries built on wharves at the shore on their property so that boats could pull up to their farm and load their cargo directly from the farmer. (I've been reading local history. This won't be the first time I bore you.)
I can't be certain, but this sure looks like one of those granaries. Neat!
Here's another shot of the granary. Must belong to the Parks Department now. I so wanted to poke around, but I'm a scaredy-cat.
Near the granary, we came across this weathered piece of old-timey machinery:
Some sort of yanky cranky wench thingie. So, Dad, what is it? Uncle Dan, any idea?
We didn't see much wildlife. Maybe they took the day off. We did see some sort of standard-issue wildlife, notably:
Seagulls
Mosquitos
Teenagers
It was a lovely, long walk. We just don't get time to do these things much (hardly ever) as a family because Woodworker is so diligently busy finishing his dream shop down the street. Someday soon they will have their new shop and he won't have to commute up to the old shop up in the woods where we used to live. But, one step in front of the other, a year of Sundays, we'll get there.
Happy Sunday!
He whined himself to sleep, which was cute/funny. Please note how he's grasping the strap even as he sleeps. Pudgy, little, determined hand.
Our little region here is a soil-rich river delta, basically. There are lots of little sloughs that wend their way hither and yon. Quite a considerable network of old dikes were built well nigh a hundred years ago now (old pioneer talk) to create more farmland and keep the Sound at bay. A great habitat for birds, otters, oysters, salmon, ligers, unicorns. Right now is duck hunting season, which is annoying because I feel mortal fear when I walk along the dike.
Not so long ago, all this land was covered in thick forest. Settlers cleared it. Evidently, the first part of the 20th Century saw mostly oats grown around here. Before the railroads established freight ways, farmers would have their own granaries built on wharves at the shore on their property so that boats could pull up to their farm and load their cargo directly from the farmer. (I've been reading local history. This won't be the first time I bore you.)
I can't be certain, but this sure looks like one of those granaries. Neat!
Here's another shot of the granary. Must belong to the Parks Department now. I so wanted to poke around, but I'm a scaredy-cat.Near the granary, we came across this weathered piece of old-timey machinery:
Some sort of yanky cranky wench thingie. So, Dad, what is it? Uncle Dan, any idea?
We didn't see much wildlife. Maybe they took the day off. We did see some sort of standard-issue wildlife, notably:
Seagulls
Mosquitos
Teenagers
It was a lovely, long walk. We just don't get time to do these things much (hardly ever) as a family because Woodworker is so diligently busy finishing his dream shop down the street. Someday soon they will have their new shop and he won't have to commute up to the old shop up in the woods where we used to live. But, one step in front of the other, a year of Sundays, we'll get there.
Happy Sunday!
Friday, October 22, 2010
Did You Watch Project Runway?
Michael Costello is a big blubbery baby. Good LORD. Pull it together, chap. You're a grown man. I've never seen such a case of Poopy Pants. On the runway he couldn't even look up after he was eliminated. I mean, I know, I know, you hang all your hopes and dreams on this and your family doesn't support you and nobody likes you. But, shoot, girl, start paving your own path! Carpe Diem! You're on national television! Composure, girl, composure.
This is easy for me to say. My family loves me buckets and I'm sitting in my pajamas. I'm going to go get Buckaroo from his nap and I'm going to brush my teeth. We may just leave the house today!
This is easy for me to say. My family loves me buckets and I'm sitting in my pajamas. I'm going to go get Buckaroo from his nap and I'm going to brush my teeth. We may just leave the house today!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
I just took a shower. Such sweet ablutions, so dearly needed. And the baby was asleep when I went in and he was asleep when I came out. Even sweeter.
MAJOR DEVELOPMENT: Madame Thorax is no longer in her croft. Hallelujah! Or, does this mean she has relocated to inside the house? lurking like a bully in the shadows?
Here is a pic of me and Buckaroo from the stay at the Mt. Baker cabin a few weeks ago.
I'd like to draw your attention to my good posture. Good lord. And interestingly, it sort of looks like we're standing in front of a photo mural, but I swear we're not. Its real live nature and my big brother Tom took the picture. Our corner of the world is so gloriously verdant and magical.
At this moment, Woodworker and Buckaroo are making pizza dough. And the Seahawks are playing on tv in the background. So, once again, on this autumn Sunday, I will watch my husband's moods swing far and wide as we watch the Seahawks try to find their way out of their own butts. I've learned many many lifetimes ago not to invest my hopes and dreams in the Seahawks. Others are not so wise. And yet, sometimes those others make amazing pizza. Seriously, its such good pizza.
Oh great, the Seahawks just scored.
MAJOR DEVELOPMENT: Madame Thorax is no longer in her croft. Hallelujah! Or, does this mean she has relocated to inside the house? lurking like a bully in the shadows?
Here is a pic of me and Buckaroo from the stay at the Mt. Baker cabin a few weeks ago.
I'd like to draw your attention to my good posture. Good lord. And interestingly, it sort of looks like we're standing in front of a photo mural, but I swear we're not. Its real live nature and my big brother Tom took the picture. Our corner of the world is so gloriously verdant and magical.At this moment, Woodworker and Buckaroo are making pizza dough. And the Seahawks are playing on tv in the background. So, once again, on this autumn Sunday, I will watch my husband's moods swing far and wide as we watch the Seahawks try to find their way out of their own butts. I've learned many many lifetimes ago not to invest my hopes and dreams in the Seahawks. Others are not so wise. And yet, sometimes those others make amazing pizza. Seriously, its such good pizza.
Oh great, the Seahawks just scored.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Madame Thorax
Good Morning. I have to share this. I have to unburden myself of this woe, this stress. I know you can help.
There is a Very Large Spider living happily in the sill of our front window. She's on the outside, thank god. But I really don' t like her. She's exactly the kind of spider that I don't like the most. Because, oh god, I don't know if I can even type this... she is bulbous. Aaaaagghh!!!!! Yuck. I have the itchies now.
Here is our front window. Isn't it pretty? You can see the bucolic scene out front and so forth. The Woodworker made that guitar, by the way. Yes.
Here is an outside shot of the front window. Amazing how much better the paint job looks in a photo. Madame Thorax lives tucked in the sill right were the arrow indicates. For the same reason the paint looks so good, you cannot see the insidious web all over the window. I know she eats a lot because she just keeps getting bigger. Don't even suggest that she's getting bigger because of, like, perpetuation-of-the-species reasons. I cannot bear it.
This is as close as I can get to Madame Thorax, and lordy I am frightfully close. She's really there. You have to believe me. Its just that the sill has a ledge where she can tuck herself next to the window. Its horrid. If you pull back the curtains and look out the front window, she's there like a cruel joke. She loves it, I know. So proud of her Halloween self.
Maybe I'll get up the nerve to take a pic of her from inside. To prove my predicament to you. I just can't right now, though. I need some space.
Yours itching,
Nellie
There is a Very Large Spider living happily in the sill of our front window. She's on the outside, thank god. But I really don' t like her. She's exactly the kind of spider that I don't like the most. Because, oh god, I don't know if I can even type this... she is bulbous. Aaaaagghh!!!!! Yuck. I have the itchies now.
Here is our front window. Isn't it pretty? You can see the bucolic scene out front and so forth. The Woodworker made that guitar, by the way. Yes.
Here is an outside shot of the front window. Amazing how much better the paint job looks in a photo. Madame Thorax lives tucked in the sill right were the arrow indicates. For the same reason the paint looks so good, you cannot see the insidious web all over the window. I know she eats a lot because she just keeps getting bigger. Don't even suggest that she's getting bigger because of, like, perpetuation-of-the-species reasons. I cannot bear it.
This is as close as I can get to Madame Thorax, and lordy I am frightfully close. She's really there. You have to believe me. Its just that the sill has a ledge where she can tuck herself next to the window. Its horrid. If you pull back the curtains and look out the front window, she's there like a cruel joke. She loves it, I know. So proud of her Halloween self.Maybe I'll get up the nerve to take a pic of her from inside. To prove my predicament to you. I just can't right now, though. I need some space.
Yours itching,
Nellie
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Critter
So, why does the cat need to sit Right There? Grrrrr. This damn cat, I swear. We live a very tense cohabitation here, I tell you. This cat has lived with Woodworker since college, through squalor and mayhem. And now this cat is 15 years old and just keeps tickin'. Tick tock. I am allergic to this cat, by the way. And he scratched my baby the other day. Not happy about that. And he waits til the still of night before he begins his operatic wailing. I am so over him. I was never really under him. He came with the marriage.
And I am particularly not fond of him actually in the sink. Putting his butt in there. Gross. Likely depositing trace fecal matter. Furthering the fact that the kitchen sink is the filthiest place in the house, I suppose.
We did send this one in to Catsinsinks. Who knows. Maybe he'll become an internet sensation. Twerp.
I am going to go clean the sink.
And I am particularly not fond of him actually in the sink. Putting his butt in there. Gross. Likely depositing trace fecal matter. Furthering the fact that the kitchen sink is the filthiest place in the house, I suppose.
We did send this one in to Catsinsinks. Who knows. Maybe he'll become an internet sensation. Twerp.I am going to go clean the sink.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Fix Your Face
The dust is settling. All the crap required to go anywhere overnight has been returned to its proper locations here at home. Buckaroo is napping (I hold my breath). And I'm sort of shivering away the frenzy that I seem to acquire as a mom when we stay away from home.
Woodworker and I had a gift certificate to a great rental house/cabin in the woods near Mt. Baker. I invited my brothers and sisters and their little ones to join us. The setting was glorious, the accommodations delightful, and the company sublime. My most fabulous friend AmyW came from Minneapolis to join us.
She and I fell in friendlove several years ago when she was the manager of the apartment complex where I lived for a time in Seattle. She moved to MPLS right after I moved to the north woods to be the Woodworker's wife. That means we haven't seen each other for over two years, which is super stupid. She'd never met Buckaroo; she'd not seen our new house since we moved from the woods to the Skagit Valley. We missed each other tremendously. So many occasions I've wished I had her here to help me make decisions, to help me pull my head out of my butt, to keep me from disintegrating into frump, to celebrate with, to cry with, to create a hangover with, to appreciate with. I've had so many AmyW moments without her!!!
We totally bawled when we met up, and again when she left. I could not control myself. It was one of those hard cries that you can't stop. When she drove away, down the long driveway and out of the woods on Sunday, I wanted to have a tantrum. Instead, I cried into Woodworker's neck. And he, perfectly, said "Amy would say 'fix your face'." I stopped crying but it was before I wanted to stop. I'm still not done, dang it. But I think that is a crucial element of adulthood. Sometimes one must cease crying prematurely. Sucks.
But the weekend was stuffed full of giggles and dumb jokes, new jokes and old jokes, excellent food, absolutely beautiful weather, and a very much needed change of scenery. Plus, it was quite affordable. Now, I must admit, it was a great weekend in the "new normal". Still had crap sleep because Buckaroo has a broken sleepometer. Still constantly monitoring, moving, cataloging, cleaning, kicking, and begrudging the piles of gear needed for the tiny creature's existence. Still missing out on some things because Buckaroo has to nap. Still worrying about potential disasters in unfamiliar surroundings. Still reeling from it, really. So, it was "the new great." My sisters keep proving to me that it gets easier. Or different, in an easierish way. And I will not forget the monitor next time.
Here is a pic of some of us at Artist's Point, the very end of the road on Mt. Baker Hwy. Its the top of the world, seemingly.
L to R: Leo, little Nik, preggo sassy sis Olga, the Woodworker with Buckaroo, moi with dumb hair, fabulous precious AmyW. Various other siblings and babies not pictured.
August and September are full of mementos - miraculous birthdays, tragic anniversaries, glorious anniversaries, holidays and getaways - memories to feel, memories to make. And it ain't easy. Now I look towards October, my favorite month. The visual drama of autumn. We have little planned, which is good. There is always much to do around here in the "fixer upper" department. Also, ahem, the cable guy is here right now. So, there will be football.
I love you, AmyW!!! Thank you for coming and reminding me what I need to know!!!
xo nellie
Woodworker and I had a gift certificate to a great rental house/cabin in the woods near Mt. Baker. I invited my brothers and sisters and their little ones to join us. The setting was glorious, the accommodations delightful, and the company sublime. My most fabulous friend AmyW came from Minneapolis to join us.
She and I fell in friendlove several years ago when she was the manager of the apartment complex where I lived for a time in Seattle. She moved to MPLS right after I moved to the north woods to be the Woodworker's wife. That means we haven't seen each other for over two years, which is super stupid. She'd never met Buckaroo; she'd not seen our new house since we moved from the woods to the Skagit Valley. We missed each other tremendously. So many occasions I've wished I had her here to help me make decisions, to help me pull my head out of my butt, to keep me from disintegrating into frump, to celebrate with, to cry with, to create a hangover with, to appreciate with. I've had so many AmyW moments without her!!!
We totally bawled when we met up, and again when she left. I could not control myself. It was one of those hard cries that you can't stop. When she drove away, down the long driveway and out of the woods on Sunday, I wanted to have a tantrum. Instead, I cried into Woodworker's neck. And he, perfectly, said "Amy would say 'fix your face'." I stopped crying but it was before I wanted to stop. I'm still not done, dang it. But I think that is a crucial element of adulthood. Sometimes one must cease crying prematurely. Sucks.
But the weekend was stuffed full of giggles and dumb jokes, new jokes and old jokes, excellent food, absolutely beautiful weather, and a very much needed change of scenery. Plus, it was quite affordable. Now, I must admit, it was a great weekend in the "new normal". Still had crap sleep because Buckaroo has a broken sleepometer. Still constantly monitoring, moving, cataloging, cleaning, kicking, and begrudging the piles of gear needed for the tiny creature's existence. Still missing out on some things because Buckaroo has to nap. Still worrying about potential disasters in unfamiliar surroundings. Still reeling from it, really. So, it was "the new great." My sisters keep proving to me that it gets easier. Or different, in an easierish way. And I will not forget the monitor next time.
Here is a pic of some of us at Artist's Point, the very end of the road on Mt. Baker Hwy. Its the top of the world, seemingly.
L to R: Leo, little Nik, preggo sassy sis Olga, the Woodworker with Buckaroo, moi with dumb hair, fabulous precious AmyW. Various other siblings and babies not pictured.August and September are full of mementos - miraculous birthdays, tragic anniversaries, glorious anniversaries, holidays and getaways - memories to feel, memories to make. And it ain't easy. Now I look towards October, my favorite month. The visual drama of autumn. We have little planned, which is good. There is always much to do around here in the "fixer upper" department. Also, ahem, the cable guy is here right now. So, there will be football.
I love you, AmyW!!! Thank you for coming and reminding me what I need to know!!!
xo nellie
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I WAS RIGHT.
Aaahhhnnn. All is right with the world. This morning I jumped out of bed, stuffed Buckaroo under my arm, and settled down in front of the laptop. The universe is a just place because I easily found an online version of Joaquin Phoenix and David Letterman's interview from last night. I smiled from ear to ear through the whole interview. Buckaroo was unimpressed as he squirmed on my lap and chewed on my ear. But I felt he should be exposed to this interesting aspect of our culture.
Here he is in all his spiffy, adorable, humble glory. And if you cruise the headlines, ignore the garbage about a lawsuit. They were just joking, obviously. As well, I didn't really feel that Phoenix was apologizing all over the place. Letterman wasn't demanding that in any serious fashion. They simply covered the topic in a fun, Letterman-esque, yuk-yuk, extremely adorable kind of way.
Pretty much I was right about everything and stuff. But I'm lying about jumping out of bed. That doesn't happen around here. Getting up involves a good deal of reluctance on my part. Buckaroo is usually yanking at my face and wanting to play and smiling and drooling. Its a Very Cute Alarm Clock.
And lets get one thing straight. This is my Number One Heart Throb For All Times:
Both of them.xo
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Joaquin Watch
I tell you, I belong to the group of extremely clever people who sort of knew all along that Joaquin Phoenix and Casey Affleck were pulling a stunt.
No way would Phoenix downward spiral like that for reals. And then I watched the preview for "I'm Still Here" and my suspicions were confirmed. Dude, this is a mockumentary. I don't know how smart people like Kenneth Turan (LA Times, NPR) could get all tied up in knots about it. I always like Turan's reviews. But this time I think he wrote exactly what Phoenix and Affleck hoped he would. (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129705971) He's disgusted with the ickiness of it all - celebrity, exposure, reality entertainment, the shame of Phoenix's spited career...
I imagine Phoenix and Affleck spent some time after the preview and reviews came out sitting at home saying "Oh my god, I can't believe how well this worked." And then I think they started to say. "Um, I think this worked too well. I never thought it would work this well." And then Affleck had to get grown up and serious with the NY Times and EXPLAIN it to people. (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/17/movies/17affleck.html) And various and sundry interviews over the last couple of days reiterating the whole scheme. Everyone is still so uneasy.
Well, I'm EXCITED. Because tonight Phoenix returns to Letterman. What will happen?! We all know what happened last time, ending with Letterman's brilliant line "Joaquin, I'm sorry you couldn't be here tonight."Ouch. Letterman cannot be outwitted on the spot. But did he know it was an act? Some say yes, some say no. I imagine tonight Phoenix is going to look gorgeous and use complete sentences and do his mama proud. I hope.
Its too delicious. I absolutely love love love Joaquin Phoenix. He has been on my top 3 list for years and years. Have you seen Inventing the Abbotts? Swoon and hug and kiss Joaquin Phoenix. No WAY would he or anyone around him let him fall apart. I mean, I don't know the guy, but I think he is a bit too ahead of the game for that.
I haven't seen the film, obviously. And I don't know if I could sit through the whole thing. Might be too much to stomach. I might get deeply embarrassed for him and it would make my tummy hurt the whole time. Or, maybe I'd laugh my butt off and be grateful for the mirth. We'll all have the discussion about the importance of mockumentaries; about the grittiness - were the drugs real? was the poop real?; about mocking the hand that feeds you. I think the discussion will continue for a while. Or, Hollywood powerhouses will fervently ignore it so that they don't have to get into the discussion. I mean, we're not going to stop benefiting from the Entertainment Industrial Complex.
On a darker note, it has been reported that Affleck has settled a sexual harassment lawsuit out of court with two women who worked on the film. Yuck. What the heck? I toss my hands in the air. Nobody ever knows the full story.
So, lets close with acknowledging the other two in my Top 3. In order of importance:
Number One: Daniel Day-Lewis. I'm not kidding. He's been in the #1 spot for well over 15 years. Maybe I should have included a more comely picture, but I loved Gangs of New York.
Tied for the Silver with Mr. Phoenix: ERIC BANA!!! Of course! But you already knew that.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Vows
On this day two years ago not far at all from where I sit this very minute, Woodworker and I promised to be together in marriage for ever and ever and ever and stuff. According to the interwebs, the 2nd anniversary is the "cotton" anniversary. Also according to the interwebs, in the Commonwealth, a couple can receive a congratulatory letter from the Monarch for 60th, 65th, and 70th anniversaries and all anniversaries after that! You must apply to Buckingham Palace, but still. Anyway, we're not of the Commonwealth and we've got a long way to go, but we are very self-congratulatory nonetheless.
Last night we left Buckaroo with Woodworker's parents and we walked down the street a whole block and ate dinner at the local tavern all by ourselves. This was a first for all of us. And more than anything, it was an exercise rather than a respite. But now I can say that I left my baby with a sitter and everything went pretty well. It was reported that he did a good deal of crying after he realized our absence, but he didn't cry the WHOLE time. Good! Thank you so much Grandma and Grandpa!
Husband and I did have a few great minutes of being in love and stuff at the tavern. I devoured a lovely steak salad. He had the captain's plate. We put the iphone on the table in clear view. I ate fast. He is a more reasonable person that me and actually chewed his food.
So, my problem is this. I thought tomorrow was the 20th. I thought I had another day. Worse yet, the 20th is also my beloved mother's birthday and I just talked to her at length on the phone about the massively poopy mess that occurred this morn, but did not mention her birthday. I'm such a dumbass. And so is my husband! He's the one that convinced me that tomorrow is our actual anniversary. Maybe he did that on purpose so he'd have time to get something today. Well, whatever. Buckaroo and I will have to go into town and buy something made of cotton. Sheesh.
Also, by the way, today is a very rainy day. And it was a very rainy day two years ago as well. But that's another story. Ech. Rain is good luck, right? It was a beautiful wedding. Seriously, it was a beautiful wedding. Rain is beautiful and stuff.
Ciao.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Dreamish
I had strange dreams last night. I know that nobody ever wants to read about someone else's dreams; and in my opinion, I think they are a cheap literary device. Regardless. I have to say that the last two nights I have had dreams about losing my wedding ring. I told Husband but he told me not to worry and made semi-lewd gestures that I think were supposed to be romantic.
And someone, somewhere must have mentioned Yom Kippur in my vicinity yesterday because last night I dreamt that I was trying to prove that I knew the nature of the holiday, as well as why the Yom Kippur War was called the Yom Kippur War. But I didn't really know and I was just pulling words out of my butt, like Sinai and Moshe Dayan and I don't know. I wish I could remember who it was I was talking to; it was someone important. Anyway, today I'm flipping through the paper and shucks, its Yom Kippur! Weird.
All for now.
And someone, somewhere must have mentioned Yom Kippur in my vicinity yesterday because last night I dreamt that I was trying to prove that I knew the nature of the holiday, as well as why the Yom Kippur War was called the Yom Kippur War. But I didn't really know and I was just pulling words out of my butt, like Sinai and Moshe Dayan and I don't know. I wish I could remember who it was I was talking to; it was someone important. Anyway, today I'm flipping through the paper and shucks, its Yom Kippur! Weird.
All for now.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Addendum
I must clarify something from my earlier post. I mentioned that we don't have cable/broadcast television. And I like that we don't. I want to be the people who don't have t.v. I mostly am that person. I really used to be that person. But then I got married and moved to The Middle Of Nowhere and now live with a man who gets clinically depressed if he can't watch football. I might not like that scenario; I might consider myself too erudite for this arrangement; but I chose it anyway. And it has its pluses.
Besides, I discovered David Bromstad. And t.v. started to feel right. And I learned to expand my life experience. And that's ok.
Then, I had a baby and sort of lost my marbles for a while (I think I'm getting them back.) and having David Bromstad come to me every day on the t.v. via Color Splash, and offer a sunny, adorable, muscular, tasteful marker to each day helped me to become the mom I am. (hah)
But then we moved (best thing ever, after Buckaroo) and we haven't had cable since. Just the netflix. Fine, fine. HOWEVER. Football season has begun and guess who can't handle it? So, my Woodworker has scheduled the cable guy and we will be getting television again. I like to carry on like this is ridiculous and only-neanderthals-watch-television. But I'm secretly very excited. Because we really do have a nice television. Project Runway looks so nice on it. So much better than my crappy, ancient laptop.
Let me also point out that my husband, the Woodworker, the self-employed workaholic who can't tear himself away from his workaday reality to do anything extracurricular (except sushi) is going to be here for the cable guy to follow him around and make sure he does it right. One must have one's priorities.
Furthermore, the Woodworker just came in from working on the new shop to make himself enchiladas from scratch for lunch.
Finally, Buckaroo is napping so I am going to go pluck my eyebrows uninterrupted.
Besides, I discovered David Bromstad. And t.v. started to feel right. And I learned to expand my life experience. And that's ok.
Then, I had a baby and sort of lost my marbles for a while (I think I'm getting them back.) and having David Bromstad come to me every day on the t.v. via Color Splash, and offer a sunny, adorable, muscular, tasteful marker to each day helped me to become the mom I am. (hah)
But then we moved (best thing ever, after Buckaroo) and we haven't had cable since. Just the netflix. Fine, fine. HOWEVER. Football season has begun and guess who can't handle it? So, my Woodworker has scheduled the cable guy and we will be getting television again. I like to carry on like this is ridiculous and only-neanderthals-watch-television. But I'm secretly very excited. Because we really do have a nice television. Project Runway looks so nice on it. So much better than my crappy, ancient laptop.
Let me also point out that my husband, the Woodworker, the self-employed workaholic who can't tear himself away from his workaday reality to do anything extracurricular (except sushi) is going to be here for the cable guy to follow him around and make sure he does it right. One must have one's priorities.
Furthermore, the Woodworker just came in from working on the new shop to make himself enchiladas from scratch for lunch.
Finally, Buckaroo is napping so I am going to go pluck my eyebrows uninterrupted.
Bated Breath
We don't have television channels. We have the big screen and all, but just the netflix. So. When Project Runway airs I have to watch it the next day on the computer. So. This morning Buckaroo and I watched Project Runway. Ohmigod its always so exciting I can hardly stand it. Such sweet torture when the episode ends. And when you don't have commercials it goes by oh-so-quickly. This season has been a delight because I think the judges are more unpredictable. Project Runway is a very important part of my happiness. Now I have to wait a whole week to meet that element of happiness again.
The wait is probably a good thing because it allows for enough time for me to pull my head out of my ass about wanting to be a fashion icon. This is not going to happen. I'm in such a sloppy mom place right now. The height of fashion consciousness for me is whether or not I remember to put pants on. So its just best that I have the joy of the runway every so often.
My son is a bit more fashion-forward. For instance, this morning he was sporting a sleepie outfit that made him look like he was wearing leg warmers. Because he's secure with his sexuality. (Is that ok to say?) And because he wants me to show AmyF that he's a dancer and thus she should move here.
Here he's rockin them in his exersaucer.
Here he's warming up in his jumpyjumperthing.
Here he's on point. Almost.
So, anyway, I'm sad to see the Michael D. guy go from Project Runway. He was sweet and funny and clearly in love with Christopher. I'm happy that Mondo won because I really admire him. He's so VERY comfortable with himself and he's always so calmmmmmmmm. And funny. Sharp funny.
xo
The wait is probably a good thing because it allows for enough time for me to pull my head out of my ass about wanting to be a fashion icon. This is not going to happen. I'm in such a sloppy mom place right now. The height of fashion consciousness for me is whether or not I remember to put pants on. So its just best that I have the joy of the runway every so often.
My son is a bit more fashion-forward. For instance, this morning he was sporting a sleepie outfit that made him look like he was wearing leg warmers. Because he's secure with his sexuality. (Is that ok to say?) And because he wants me to show AmyF that he's a dancer and thus she should move here.
Here he's rockin them in his exersaucer.
Here he's warming up in his jumpyjumperthing.
Here he's on point. Almost.So, anyway, I'm sad to see the Michael D. guy go from Project Runway. He was sweet and funny and clearly in love with Christopher. I'm happy that Mondo won because I really admire him. He's so VERY comfortable with himself and he's always so calmmmmmmmm. And funny. Sharp funny.
xo
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Change of Scenery
This last weekend we went to Winthrop for the Woodworker's cousin's wedding. It was a big blast of an affair at the beautiful Wolfridge Resort. And it was a pretty successful family getaway, as far as parenting goes. Well, except for the Major Poop Incident on Sunday morning. Absolutely everywhere, I tell you. But had I dealt with it more swiftly from the outset, it might have been a Minor Poop Incident. Always learning.
We traveled there on Saturday, which followed a horrible night of poor sleep, so I was on autopilot. In those wee hours the night before, as I was bouncing Buckaroo, I seriously thought that I would not be able to get him and myself in the car, and the Woodworker would have to go by himself. It is truly amazing the bleakness of thought in those wee hours. But by morning I seemed to be moving in a forward motion. Buckaroo showed impressive car skills and took a 2 hour nap. Bless his little chubby heart.
I'm so grateful for the relative ease of our travel, both ways. And the condo we rented with our teammates was awesome, comfortable, affordable, convenient. Winthrop is old-timey and Western all over itself, which is fun. Eastern Washington is so vastly different from Western Washington. The change in climate, flora, fauna happens so fast as you cross over the mountains. I grew up in Eastern Washington, so the scrub grass and tumbleweeds hold a certain nostalgia for me. I enjoy it now because I eventually come back home to the shores of the Puget Sound.
My favorite things about the weekend were:
1. The Woodworker took Buckaroo for a very long walk on Sunday morning and I was able to have a sort of nap in total silence. That is the second time since Buckaroo was born that I have had a silent reprieve with him out the house (instead of me out of the house), and this was much nicer than that first attempt. I want more!
2. The weather co-operated for the wedding. A deep blue sky and blessing sun for the vows. We all stood with the bride and groom with the most amazing backdrop. The officiant talked about the cathedral of the Cascades, and it felt so true.
3. I reunited with a couple of buddies from undergrad days that I had NO IDEA would be at this thing. Such a thrill!!! I never imagined I'd see Tyler again, particularly. Really wonderful to hear about the twists and turns of someone's path since you last saw them. He seemed really great - all growed up and stuff - which warmed my heart.
4. There were a lot of families with wee ones there. It helped me to see other people surviving the exhaustion and complexity of baby-rearing. I try not to be too jealous of families who can enjoy outings with their tiny ones. We just couldn't do anything like that when Buckaroo was a newborn because he was so dang colicky, and he cried his eyes out every time we went anywhere in the car. But anyway, it was a mind-broadening experience to be with our parenting peers in the celebratory situation. Always interesting to watch how others do it, you know?
5. At one point during the wedding evening I was looking for the Woodworker and Buckaroo, and I found them dancing. Ahhnnnn. Eventually Buckaroo fell asleep on Dadda's shoulder. Eventually eventually I talked Dadda into letting me take them home. Eventually eventually eventually I got us all in bed.
Back at home in gorgeous Skagit County. Yesterday and today are misty mornings. Buckaroo and I took a walk yesterday (between lame naps) and I felt like we were subjects of a huge, majestic painting. No wonder there are so many artists around.
Today I seem to be coming down with something. A cough, and my eyeballs hurt. And all our recent traveling has rather undone any sleep training we'd accomplished. So, I'm feeling so scrambled. What to do. It was delicious having the babe in bed with us while we vacationed. So, of course, now he has no intention of sleeping well back at home.
I'm very happy my mom is coming today for a visit. She's the best.
Happy Wednesday.
We traveled there on Saturday, which followed a horrible night of poor sleep, so I was on autopilot. In those wee hours the night before, as I was bouncing Buckaroo, I seriously thought that I would not be able to get him and myself in the car, and the Woodworker would have to go by himself. It is truly amazing the bleakness of thought in those wee hours. But by morning I seemed to be moving in a forward motion. Buckaroo showed impressive car skills and took a 2 hour nap. Bless his little chubby heart.
I'm so grateful for the relative ease of our travel, both ways. And the condo we rented with our teammates was awesome, comfortable, affordable, convenient. Winthrop is old-timey and Western all over itself, which is fun. Eastern Washington is so vastly different from Western Washington. The change in climate, flora, fauna happens so fast as you cross over the mountains. I grew up in Eastern Washington, so the scrub grass and tumbleweeds hold a certain nostalgia for me. I enjoy it now because I eventually come back home to the shores of the Puget Sound.
My favorite things about the weekend were:
1. The Woodworker took Buckaroo for a very long walk on Sunday morning and I was able to have a sort of nap in total silence. That is the second time since Buckaroo was born that I have had a silent reprieve with him out the house (instead of me out of the house), and this was much nicer than that first attempt. I want more!
2. The weather co-operated for the wedding. A deep blue sky and blessing sun for the vows. We all stood with the bride and groom with the most amazing backdrop. The officiant talked about the cathedral of the Cascades, and it felt so true.
3. I reunited with a couple of buddies from undergrad days that I had NO IDEA would be at this thing. Such a thrill!!! I never imagined I'd see Tyler again, particularly. Really wonderful to hear about the twists and turns of someone's path since you last saw them. He seemed really great - all growed up and stuff - which warmed my heart.
4. There were a lot of families with wee ones there. It helped me to see other people surviving the exhaustion and complexity of baby-rearing. I try not to be too jealous of families who can enjoy outings with their tiny ones. We just couldn't do anything like that when Buckaroo was a newborn because he was so dang colicky, and he cried his eyes out every time we went anywhere in the car. But anyway, it was a mind-broadening experience to be with our parenting peers in the celebratory situation. Always interesting to watch how others do it, you know?
5. At one point during the wedding evening I was looking for the Woodworker and Buckaroo, and I found them dancing. Ahhnnnn. Eventually Buckaroo fell asleep on Dadda's shoulder. Eventually eventually I talked Dadda into letting me take them home. Eventually eventually eventually I got us all in bed.
Back at home in gorgeous Skagit County. Yesterday and today are misty mornings. Buckaroo and I took a walk yesterday (between lame naps) and I felt like we were subjects of a huge, majestic painting. No wonder there are so many artists around.
Today I seem to be coming down with something. A cough, and my eyeballs hurt. And all our recent traveling has rather undone any sleep training we'd accomplished. So, I'm feeling so scrambled. What to do. It was delicious having the babe in bed with us while we vacationed. So, of course, now he has no intention of sleeping well back at home.
I'm very happy my mom is coming today for a visit. She's the best.
Happy Wednesday.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Elusive
I'm trying to master Picasa and its late (for me) and I can't figure it out. And now the huge old great dane that lives next door is barking again, which always puts me on edge because what if she wakes up the baby. She's still barking. Its a huge monster bark, terrifying. Stupid dog.
I wanted to blog about some socks, but that can certainly wait. Its been a day. Another day of trying, and stumbling, at wrangling a couple of respectable naps out of my very mercurial child. Please tell me that someday I won't spend 92% of my waking moments worrying, contemplating, studying, willing(not well), wishing, praying, praying again, sighing, praying some more, anticipating fretfully the naps that my silly kiddo undertakes very erratically. That someday I'll have a broader feeling about my own daily life. I mean, he's only 6 months old, we're still working on the basics here. And he was so colicky at first; and that can
oh gosh. He's awake. More later.
I wanted to blog about some socks, but that can certainly wait. Its been a day. Another day of trying, and stumbling, at wrangling a couple of respectable naps out of my very mercurial child. Please tell me that someday I won't spend 92% of my waking moments worrying, contemplating, studying, willing(not well), wishing, praying, praying again, sighing, praying some more, anticipating fretfully the naps that my silly kiddo undertakes very erratically. That someday I'll have a broader feeling about my own daily life. I mean, he's only 6 months old, we're still working on the basics here. And he was so colicky at first; and that can
oh gosh. He's awake. More later.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens...
Sometimes, when I just need to remember that the world is not necessarily a bad place, and daily life is not actually guaranteed to offer stumbles and tribulations, I do this:
1. I go to the interwebs and type www.imdb.com
2. I type the words "Eric Bana"
3. I spend a few minutes admiring one of my favorite things.
4. Yuuusssss, I KNOW that's him in the movie Chopper.
5. YES I know he's married. So am I.
I wonder what its like to BE Eric Bana. Good lord have mercy.
When the Woodworker sees this, he's going to roll his eyes so hard they will be stuck in the up position.
1. I go to the interwebs and type www.imdb.com
2. I type the words "Eric Bana"
3. I spend a few minutes admiring one of my favorite things.
4. Yuuusssss, I KNOW that's him in the movie Chopper.
5. YES I know he's married. So am I.
I wonder what its like to BE Eric Bana. Good lord have mercy.
When the Woodworker sees this, he's going to roll his eyes so hard they will be stuck in the up position.
Fashionable Coincidence!
You know, I sorta followed Gisele Bunchin, Bunchshin, whatever, through her pregnancy because she had her baby a couple of months before I had Buckaroo. I've managed to come across pics of her whenever I'm feeling particularly unsightly. It's a real pick-me up. And whadya know, I'm spending valuable time on People.com this morning and here she is!! In all her gloriously bronzed, tousled, toned, relaxed, expensive short-shortiness. What's funny is that, seriously, I look exactly like that. Except that I wear flipflops with that shirt. Her bootflops look sort of uncomfortable. And my hair is probably a little sexier. Which is what happens when you don't shower. Like, ever.
p.s. my first time inserting hyperlink. Exhilarating!
p.s. my first time inserting hyperlink. Exhilarating!
Functions
Please observe the boy and his cute outfit here in this photo taken several weeks ago.
Because you will never see this cute onesie again. Because yesterday he was wearing it and yesterday I experienced the as-yet most disgusting single episode of this parenting saga. That is all I will say.
Because you will never see this cute onesie again. Because yesterday he was wearing it and yesterday I experienced the as-yet most disgusting single episode of this parenting saga. That is all I will say.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
I, Anonymous
I am enjoying the blogging thing so far. I've figured out how to post images from the web; neato. I promise they won't all be political. Mostly I'm not political. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Actually, I take that back - I am political but mostly I don't go on and on about it. Whatever "political" means, anyway. Really, actually, I'm too cool to be political. But that's not the kind of thing that one points out to people. Consistently, I'm a dork. Just ask Husband. No, don't ask him.
So, about blogging. I can't really decide how anonymous to be. I'm feeling very inconsistent about it. I think I'm going to let it evolve. I'll figure it out as I go.
But, anyway, here's me:
This is the most recent shot of myself that I have. The wee peanut is my new niece Juliana Margaret, via my beautiful sister Liz. She's probably 3 weeks old there? That was a couple of weeks ago. Juliana is totally silly and perfect. It has been reported that she smiles slyly at her mother when she wants things. She moves very slowly, which is completely the opposite of her older sister and of her cousin Buckaroo. I yearn for her. They only live about an hour away. But it feels like a parsec.
In this image I am wearing a beautiful amber necklace. Ask me sometime how my husband bought this for me to hide the fact that he'd also bought a painting that he said he wasn't going to buy. Its an adorable painting, a Ree Brown, and I don't regret that he bought it. Jewelry always works.
-nellie
So, about blogging. I can't really decide how anonymous to be. I'm feeling very inconsistent about it. I think I'm going to let it evolve. I'll figure it out as I go.
But, anyway, here's me:
This is the most recent shot of myself that I have. The wee peanut is my new niece Juliana Margaret, via my beautiful sister Liz. She's probably 3 weeks old there? That was a couple of weeks ago. Juliana is totally silly and perfect. It has been reported that she smiles slyly at her mother when she wants things. She moves very slowly, which is completely the opposite of her older sister and of her cousin Buckaroo. I yearn for her. They only live about an hour away. But it feels like a parsec.In this image I am wearing a beautiful amber necklace. Ask me sometime how my husband bought this for me to hide the fact that he'd also bought a painting that he said he wasn't going to buy. Its an adorable painting, a Ree Brown, and I don't regret that he bought it. Jewelry always works.
-nellie
Monday, September 6, 2010
Feeling Lucky
My husband is a wonderful man and here is why:
These are my new shelves for my shoes!!! That is all it takes. I am happy. But just so you know he also did a spanking great job on the rest of our closet. Do keep in mind, we just moved into our house after a rigorous and vigorous renovation by my husband and his business partner. The entire second floor, where the beds and bath are, was gutted and re-done. Now, for the first time, we share a closet and it is MAGNIFICENT. Here's another picture:
He did all those shelves and rods and everything. Isn't that amazing? Don't look at my clothes. I have dorky clothes. (I need Stacy and Clinton.) But I love my clothes now that they hang in the completed closet.
Its not easy moving into a fixer-upper. The to-do list is endless. I can't talk about it. But slowly the place comes together. How many identities, how many permutations does a 105-year-old-house go through? Lots. That's a lot of years. A lot of spiders.
While we're in the bedroom, let me also boast of our beautiful bed that my husband also made. Here:
Its made from walnut. English walnut? Can't recall precisely. Too lazy to ask. It's a sturdy, manly, artistic bed indeed. And perhaps you can't see exactly, but the side tables are "floating" planks of the same wood. Very dramatic. He just finished with the side tables today. Another thing off the list. Feels very "done" in there now. Amazing how satisfying it is to pull things together.
I made the heart-shaped pillow on the bed. It was a Valentine's present to Husband during our courting days. I stitched "I love bacon" on it. He loves bacon.
Here's another bit of our handiwork:
Oh dear. Look at his little toes all flexed. Goodness. Too much.
These are my new shelves for my shoes!!! That is all it takes. I am happy. But just so you know he also did a spanking great job on the rest of our closet. Do keep in mind, we just moved into our house after a rigorous and vigorous renovation by my husband and his business partner. The entire second floor, where the beds and bath are, was gutted and re-done. Now, for the first time, we share a closet and it is MAGNIFICENT. Here's another picture:
He did all those shelves and rods and everything. Isn't that amazing? Don't look at my clothes. I have dorky clothes. (I need Stacy and Clinton.) But I love my clothes now that they hang in the completed closet.Its not easy moving into a fixer-upper. The to-do list is endless. I can't talk about it. But slowly the place comes together. How many identities, how many permutations does a 105-year-old-house go through? Lots. That's a lot of years. A lot of spiders.
While we're in the bedroom, let me also boast of our beautiful bed that my husband also made. Here:
Its made from walnut. English walnut? Can't recall precisely. Too lazy to ask. It's a sturdy, manly, artistic bed indeed. And perhaps you can't see exactly, but the side tables are "floating" planks of the same wood. Very dramatic. He just finished with the side tables today. Another thing off the list. Feels very "done" in there now. Amazing how satisfying it is to pull things together.I made the heart-shaped pillow on the bed. It was a Valentine's present to Husband during our courting days. I stitched "I love bacon" on it. He loves bacon.
Here's another bit of our handiwork:
Oh dear. Look at his little toes all flexed. Goodness. Too much.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
If you were Chelsea Clinton...
Here is a scene from a couple of days ago: Secretary Clinton facilitating the handshake between Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Palestinian National Authority President Mahmoud Abbas. Everyone is smiling. Pretty flowers on the table. Etc. Etc. Who knows where things will stand between them in two weeks time, but here we are.Jump back how many years - 17 years? - to another White House image, another Clinton facilitating a handshake.
Here we have President Clinton with Israeli Prime Minister Yitzak Rabin and Palestinian Liberation Organization President Yasser Arafat. Its looking to me like the Palestinians smile just a wee bit bigger than the Israelis. But that's neither here nor there. Also, lets remember that Rabin and Arafat (and Shimon Peres) won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1994 for the Oslo Peace Accords that were ratified by the above handshake. Pretty big deal. The whole deal, however, didn't really stick so well. But don't ask me. You'd need to start a think tank to suss out all the details.
I was always a little embarrassed by President Clinton's demeanor during this whole handshake ceremony. He'd only been in office a little while. The actual negotiations didn't really happen in his back yard. And yet he just looked so dang smug, so showy-offy, in all the photos. But that's not important. Perhaps the fact that Rabin was assassinated in 1995 by a right-wing nutbag who didn't agree with Israel's involvement in the Accords is more important.
Anyway! My point is: what if you were Chelsea Clinton? What if these were your parents? What will history make of them? Its just so, I don't know, interesting to me that we see them both do this stuff, this pinnacle of power stuff. I think its a big deal, but I'm not sure exactly why. I have to think about it for a bit longer. I'm no pundit. I just get a kick out of the two photos.
That's enough politics anyway. Whew! Lets talk about religion instead. For instance, who is the more heroic god in our pantheon - Han or Luke? I'm a dork.I'm going to go watch Husband make cinnamon rolls. Its a beautiful day here. Buckaroo is currently napping. Though I probably jinxed it by saying that.
ciao.
p.s. I'm pretty sure I spelled everyone's names correctly. I'm pretty certain on the dates. I'm too lazy to fact-check.
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