Maybe?
Monday, February 01, 2010
small stirrings
It has happened, I have felt the first stirrings of excitement about our adventure to New York next week (!). Yes, the baby may go boneless and scream for 7 days straight; yes, we may all get chapped and dribble snot and contract airport viruses; and yes, I may be defending my bottom against commentary about my need to still eat - but there may be a moment where I can close the door on it all and stand outside at night and let the snowfall stir that small still bit of me that I left on Black Mesa. Maybe revert for just a minute to the girl in pink rubber boots and a too-small blue parka who searched the close emptiness and imagined towering beasts just out of sight, enjoying being right there inside herself for a little bit.
Maybe?
Maybe?
Monday, January 18, 2010
winter weekend
No food. Rummaging in the backs of the cupboards, we pulled together bits and scraps and forgotten boxes.
I made cereal candies, which the kids poked at suspiciously. Gavin opted for back-of-the-fridge yogurt, Leif ate a butt wipe.
Covered up the smell of the neighbors' ciggies and spliffs with a loaf of beer bread, made with the new batch of home-brewed honey beer.
Slim pickings are good eating.
Knitting occurs in the in-between bits, amidst mid-morning coffee and evening popcorning. Yesterday, a mitten was born.
Then I remembered that I hate double-pointed needles. Also the thumb is too stubby. Mittens are stupid and I WILL NOT MAKE ANY MORE MITTENS. Pulled out the super-squashy Dark Horse yarn to soothe mitten rage, despite the fact that it was an absolutely hideous color.
variegated yarn = gross
Knitting not doing so well. On to sewing instead.
To Do List
As soon as these illustrations are done, I will run back to the embrace of my sewing cupboard. There are several pregnant women who have been holding in babies while I stall for time.
Realized that I forgot to show off the manly quilt, which has already been in use since Halloween, and blessed with cat barf. Thrice. But you can't tell, because it is black! I win!
Still needs some more quilting.
In the works: the Deer Valley blanket. Has been basted and slowly hand-stitched for ages now.
note: these are the stairs of doom which we keep cartwheeling down. Points detracted for endangering my first-born offspring by perching him on the landing.
Nowhere near finished: the Anna Maria Horner quilt - last year's Mother's Day gift to myself. But the top is done!
Yes, will be very productive when I get a break from all this stuff I'm doing.
I made cereal candies, which the kids poked at suspiciously. Gavin opted for back-of-the-fridge yogurt, Leif ate a butt wipe.
Covered up the smell of the neighbors' ciggies and spliffs with a loaf of beer bread, made with the new batch of home-brewed honey beer.
Slim pickings are good eating.
Knitting occurs in the in-between bits, amidst mid-morning coffee and evening popcorning. Yesterday, a mitten was born.
Then I remembered that I hate double-pointed needles. Also the thumb is too stubby. Mittens are stupid and I WILL NOT MAKE ANY MORE MITTENS. Pulled out the super-squashy Dark Horse yarn to soothe mitten rage, despite the fact that it was an absolutely hideous color.
variegated yarn = gross
Knitting not doing so well. On to sewing instead.
To Do List
As soon as these illustrations are done, I will run back to the embrace of my sewing cupboard. There are several pregnant women who have been holding in babies while I stall for time.
Realized that I forgot to show off the manly quilt, which has already been in use since Halloween, and blessed with cat barf. Thrice. But you can't tell, because it is black! I win!
Still needs some more quilting.
In the works: the Deer Valley blanket. Has been basted and slowly hand-stitched for ages now.
note: these are the stairs of doom which we keep cartwheeling down. Points detracted for endangering my first-born offspring by perching him on the landing.
Nowhere near finished: the Anna Maria Horner quilt - last year's Mother's Day gift to myself. But the top is done!
Yes, will be very productive when I get a break from all this stuff I'm doing.
Friday, January 15, 2010
The power of trend
Finally bought a drapey cardigan, as per insistance of women's fashion magazines.
It is too long in the front and too short in the back and tries to hang in the toilet, but has garnered praise and fanfare from co-workers (who said I looked "very Esquire" - slightly worrisome), and caused three still-acne-pocked college tourists in backwards caps to follow me like ducklings while picking up the post. I may have to start wearing winter boots over my pants and cinch enormous belts over my t-shirts.
In other news
* Paid for the meat-hammer threats by getting my heel stuck in my pants and falling down the stairs, flinging my keys up over my head and into the banana trees in attempt to free hands and grab railing.
* Sub and janitor have begun saying "bah-rah?" in response to everything, including my threats to bludgeon them with a stick.
Pet Project cont.
Step 2: wiping clean the ipod. GONE are the wailings and gnashings of my youth, GONE are the landmines that stud the landscape of my shuffle, GONE are things called love and presences still lingering and standing by you. I am reloading Pinkie with upbeat hipster librarian tracks - Gogol Bordello and Modest Mouse and the Decemberists and Franz Ferdinand and the like. Will brainwash self with barrage of perkiness.
Recap: Step 1 is adrenoline and excitement; have decided this will be our trip to New York in a few weeks. If the drive to Washingtonville with the speedy [ex]mother-in-law through New Jersey traffic doesn't do it, a ride on the subway with a child and a nazgul should. There is also IKEA, Anthropologie, Trader Joes, and the Lindt store to fall back on. This failing, we can go to the grocery store and get goose-bumpy about gallons of milk for under $9.
come to me
It is too long in the front and too short in the back and tries to hang in the toilet, but has garnered praise and fanfare from co-workers (who said I looked "very Esquire" - slightly worrisome), and caused three still-acne-pocked college tourists in backwards caps to follow me like ducklings while picking up the post. I may have to start wearing winter boots over my pants and cinch enormous belts over my t-shirts.
In other news
* Paid for the meat-hammer threats by getting my heel stuck in my pants and falling down the stairs, flinging my keys up over my head and into the banana trees in attempt to free hands and grab railing.
* Sub and janitor have begun saying "bah-rah?" in response to everything, including my threats to bludgeon them with a stick.
Pet Project cont.
Step 2: wiping clean the ipod. GONE are the wailings and gnashings of my youth, GONE are the landmines that stud the landscape of my shuffle, GONE are things called love and presences still lingering and standing by you. I am reloading Pinkie with upbeat hipster librarian tracks - Gogol Bordello and Modest Mouse and the Decemberists and Franz Ferdinand and the like. Will brainwash self with barrage of perkiness.
Recap: Step 1 is adrenoline and excitement; have decided this will be our trip to New York in a few weeks. If the drive to Washingtonville with the speedy [ex]mother-in-law through New Jersey traffic doesn't do it, a ride on the subway with a child and a nazgul should. There is also IKEA, Anthropologie, Trader Joes, and the Lindt store to fall back on. This failing, we can go to the grocery store and get goose-bumpy about gallons of milk for under $9.
come to me
Monday, January 11, 2010
stashes, wool, and bruises
The latest from my needles:
The incognito cowl from knitty.
red stickers
It is with sadness and resignation every year that I watch the winter wear pass through the clearance racks and away from my life without justification to savage the racks of delicious squashy sweaters with consumerist abandon. Not this year! Feeling wanton and unburdened after hefting two garbage bags of old clothes into the thrift store donation bin, we became addled by the "oh please just take them!" sales in Old Navy, piling ourselves with two dollar winter wear and slavey-children hoodies. I pulled a lovely black woolen pea coat from the rack and gasped when I saw it was the last one in my size, then gasped again when I put it on and looked like a tired starlet from one of the library's trashy magazines, then gasped a further time when I saw that it was down to $19 from $90, then hyperventilated all the way to the register.
Must never confess to my mother that I am wearing asthmatic-murdering wool, but can't help myself. If the children start gasping like fish around me, I will put on a plastic garment bag and pretend it is a stylish dampness repellent. Got home and realized that the infink still does not have a pair of shoes. If this continues, we will have to rubberband his pant legs shut over his feet when we get to New York. Poor little shoeless child.
Also he is very pathetic because he toppled off the bed in his sleep and gave himself his first goose egg.
And Gavin says I don't post enough pictures of him, so here is the boy not eating his dinner of cheesy broccoli, chicken in balsamic reduction (boiled salad dressing), and garlic sandwich bread (the french bread burned into charcoal while I was making iced coffee):
The incognito cowl from knitty.
red stickers
It is with sadness and resignation every year that I watch the winter wear pass through the clearance racks and away from my life without justification to savage the racks of delicious squashy sweaters with consumerist abandon. Not this year! Feeling wanton and unburdened after hefting two garbage bags of old clothes into the thrift store donation bin, we became addled by the "oh please just take them!" sales in Old Navy, piling ourselves with two dollar winter wear and slavey-children hoodies. I pulled a lovely black woolen pea coat from the rack and gasped when I saw it was the last one in my size, then gasped again when I put it on and looked like a tired starlet from one of the library's trashy magazines, then gasped a further time when I saw that it was down to $19 from $90, then hyperventilated all the way to the register.
Must never confess to my mother that I am wearing asthmatic-murdering wool, but can't help myself. If the children start gasping like fish around me, I will put on a plastic garment bag and pretend it is a stylish dampness repellent. Got home and realized that the infink still does not have a pair of shoes. If this continues, we will have to rubberband his pant legs shut over his feet when we get to New York. Poor little shoeless child.
Also he is very pathetic because he toppled off the bed in his sleep and gave himself his first goose egg.
And Gavin says I don't post enough pictures of him, so here is the boy not eating his dinner of cheesy broccoli, chicken in balsamic reduction (boiled salad dressing), and garlic sandwich bread (the french bread burned into charcoal while I was making iced coffee):
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Hopes Fulfilled
Not even a week into the new year and already one of my wishes has come true; rabid media obsession. Having watched all 6 seasons of Peep Show within a 5-day span, the man revealed that he had uncovered movies and an entire other series starring my new boyfriend Robert Webb (sorry, Jack Black, you're out), and I just about had a stroke.
In further rolling-over-of-the-yearness
My new ambition this year is to stop being a hedgehog and force myself to uncurl, even if it means being jabbed in the underbelly by the sharp finger of love. Step 1: trick myself into falling back into school-girl-type love with the man, instead of just the comfortable limb-type love one grows into after 13 years. According to a new self-help book I have flipped through, this can be accomplished by adrenaline-producing activity within close proximity to the intended object d'affection, causing the brain to associate the hapless bystander with crazed excitement. Activities like sky-diving, or rolling a hobo. Neither of which I can do with a man who has fallen down the stairs and is limping around howling like a big ginger wookie. Maybe I can threaten him with a meat hammer to the knee to get things going.
Gossip-ish
"It's called 'misinformation'," Officer Cleanshaven said, tapping his nose at the wary teenagers loitering outside. He came in and crouched down to eye level to whisper across the desk with me about breaks in the Case of the Grievous Graffiti, and I did my usual cop-induced transmogrification into Happy Cat, unburdening every rumor and suspicion I had heard rumbling around the library for the past week pertaining to the vandalism. He gratified me by making scandalized noises and a little dance of excitement before running out to follow the new leads. Felt like fast-living C.I. in a crime drama. Spent the rest of the afternoon scanning barcodes. Oh, well.
In further rolling-over-of-the-yearness
My new ambition this year is to stop being a hedgehog and force myself to uncurl, even if it means being jabbed in the underbelly by the sharp finger of love. Step 1: trick myself into falling back into school-girl-type love with the man, instead of just the comfortable limb-type love one grows into after 13 years. According to a new self-help book I have flipped through, this can be accomplished by adrenaline-producing activity within close proximity to the intended object d'affection, causing the brain to associate the hapless bystander with crazed excitement. Activities like sky-diving, or rolling a hobo. Neither of which I can do with a man who has fallen down the stairs and is limping around howling like a big ginger wookie. Maybe I can threaten him with a meat hammer to the knee to get things going.
Gossip-ish
"It's called 'misinformation'," Officer Cleanshaven said, tapping his nose at the wary teenagers loitering outside. He came in and crouched down to eye level to whisper across the desk with me about breaks in the Case of the Grievous Graffiti, and I did my usual cop-induced transmogrification into Happy Cat, unburdening every rumor and suspicion I had heard rumbling around the library for the past week pertaining to the vandalism. He gratified me by making scandalized noises and a little dance of excitement before running out to follow the new leads. Felt like fast-living C.I. in a crime drama. Spent the rest of the afternoon scanning barcodes. Oh, well.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
New Year 2010
On Oahu, the boy was dashing through the smoky firecracker-riddled streets with his cousins and waving sparklers beneath the blossoms of the neighborhood's illegal aerials; on Maui, the infink snoozed peacefully and the cats tipped their ears at the distant pops of the odd firework while we curled sleepily together like hamsters in front of a terrible action film. Mike called his family as the ball dropped in New York, and we admired the blue moon from the front patio.
We were too drowsy to fetch the champagne, but flipped to the rerun of the Times Square countdown, gathered ourselves up in the couch blanket, and for the first time in 4 years I was properly kissed as the clock struck midnight. That's good for a start.
Pau vacation
The man flew off for the weekend to fetch the boy back from grannie. As he left, I dragged myself from my bed of pain (the bathroom - yay food poisoning) to wave goodbye. "Be safe!" "I will!" and he fell down the stairs.
While I have been trying to apply the burners and attempt to meet my illustration deadline, the infink has:
Stripped off his clothes and dunked them in the Physics Bucket (cat litter tray with an inch of water)
Learned to ask for water with a sweet lilting "baba?"
Dumped the water on the downstairs neighbors
Peed on the couch
Gone into a frenzy of gollum dancing
Laughed maniacally singing "Willaby Wallaby Woo" for every animal in his books while he mimed smashing them to death
Eaten part of a used diaper
He also escaped via cat door,
and then tried to bash in my head with a jug.
He's a deliciously wicked little nazgul, and I loves him.
Will be happy to get the security-man back so I have a human shield between me and the axe murderers again.
We were too drowsy to fetch the champagne, but flipped to the rerun of the Times Square countdown, gathered ourselves up in the couch blanket, and for the first time in 4 years I was properly kissed as the clock struck midnight. That's good for a start.
Pau vacation
The man flew off for the weekend to fetch the boy back from grannie. As he left, I dragged myself from my bed of pain (the bathroom - yay food poisoning) to wave goodbye. "Be safe!" "I will!" and he fell down the stairs.
While I have been trying to apply the burners and attempt to meet my illustration deadline, the infink has:
Stripped off his clothes and dunked them in the Physics Bucket (cat litter tray with an inch of water)
Learned to ask for water with a sweet lilting "baba?"
Dumped the water on the downstairs neighbors
Peed on the couch
Gone into a frenzy of gollum dancing
Laughed maniacally singing "Willaby Wallaby Woo" for every animal in his books while he mimed smashing them to death
Eaten part of a used diaper
He also escaped via cat door,
and then tried to bash in my head with a jug.
He's a deliciously wicked little nazgul, and I loves him.
Will be happy to get the security-man back so I have a human shield between me and the axe murderers again.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
The Year in short
In 2009, I:
* Lost my Great-Grandma.
* Gained 2 nephews and 2 boy cousins. Developing suspicions about nationwide epidemic of male sperm. (fault = corn syrup, probably.)
* Had one close call with death.
* Lost 10 lbs. Gained 4.
* Went to the opera with my mom.
* Was on the news; apologized to Anchorman McHandsomepants for 'turning into a squirrel'. (Smooth)
* Signed two book contracts, produced 42 illustrations. Did not work on graphic novel.
* Took up quilting and sewing, in continued efforts to Keep Busy and Not Think About Things.
* Knitted two cardigans and several useless hoodies for the baby, ripped out the fingerless gloves I discovered myself making for someone I oughtn't. Also knitted tiny mouse sweaters (ornaments) for mother-in-law, and retracted all the bad things I said about knitting scarfs.
* Slapped ex-husband in the face twice, cried 4 times.
* Learned to remove graffiti/skin with exciting chemicals.
* Made a new girlfriend. Womanfriend. Pal. (Why do men get "bromance"? "Ho-mance" is not so good.)
* Reconnected with cousins and uncle.
* Turned 30, with sense of relief. And bad hair cut.
* Ate terrible ceviche.
* Ate fantastic quail eggs.
* Read 3 books. Partway-read another 30 or so. Wrote a few chapters of 2.
* Accidentally weaned infant from just one side of my bosom.
* Cheered infant's learning to crawl and walk.
* Cheered Gavin's first ride on the motorcycle (no cheers for the second ride, when he tried to fall asleep and slip off).
* Enjoyed 8 different kinds of home-brewed beer.
* Didn't throw up.
* Resisted making an ass of myself on the internet. Pretty much.
* Caught poop with my hand.
And look! One of my hobos gave me a muu muu.
And now I can add "got body lice" to that list.
Hopes for new year include:
* No family or friends dying.
*Finding something on tv that ignites hysteria and obsession, the way Battlestar did for the first 2 seasons.
* Losing last 5 lbs. Ok, 9. My aunt sent a box of Big Turk, it couldn't be helped.
* Seeing old friends and family on the mainland, buying overpriced crap from Purl Soho and that fish & chips place we saw on the food network.
* Finding self back on Oahu during bronze-casting season.
* Working on book #4. Maybe effing GRAPHIC NOVEL.
* Getting back into yoga.
* No, fuck yoga.
* Using my bag of plastic eyeballs and noses.
* Finishing the UFOs in my sewing cupboard; actually trying projects from my collection of craft books. Probably not the one for menstrual pads, though.
* No more babies. At least not until mankind learns to produce female sperm again.
* Eating a new food. Maybe some exotic cheese, or grits.
You get the idea.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
happy knitmas
While picking up my mom on Wednesday in Kahului, we passed a teen clothing store with a bulky knit scarf draped around a pointy headless mannequin. "That is backwards. Can't they see it is backwards?" We marched into the store and informed the tiny surprised salesgirls that the scarf was displayed backwards. They did not care, but reversed it anyway. I actually wanted to buy it, but my mother said, "A knitter does not buy a scarf! You will buy yarn and knit it yourself!"
So I did.
So I did.
Knitting with size 13 needles is like knitting with the legs of a small animal. That is probably how bulky knitting was invented.
The infink and I have been left alone while my mom and the kiddo are dropped off at the airport. Suddenly Leif has stopped screaming and going boneless and refusing to eat, and is dancing and laughing and slurping noodles again. I guess he hates holidays and family togetherness.
I'll keep him anyway.
criminal masterminds
Vandals possessed by the holiday spirit decorated the campus last night. I drove over this morning to assess the damage to the library.
Our windows got the worst of it. Tagging your own name is just the funniest shit ever.
Our windows got the worst of it. Tagging your own name is just the funniest shit ever.
Hurr.
The front door was also pretty specific.
The front door was also pretty specific.
And signed. With a handy zip code.
I knew a guy in high school who claimed he was a Crip because he met a black person once. Mm hmm.
Waited around for the cops for a bit.
Waited around for the cops for a bit.
Got bored and went to find cops. Found a small one who sniffed my fingers.
Waited to give Officer Snifferdog my number.
Helpfully searched for clues.
Conclusions: the perps hated toilet paper, and were probably not trees.
Tomorrow I get to play with the special cans of ultra-caustic chemicals in the back room which I have been forbidden from touching up until now - yay!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Christmas 2009
5:00am. After a night of coughs and crying at 30-minute intervals, the baby flipped in his sleep to nurse just as Gavin's feet sneaked into the hallway. I listened from the bed as the family whispered in the livingroom and the light of the tree illuminated the doorway, and Gavin came tiptoeing in to hop eagerly at the edge of the bed and run out again. When the baby was asleep again I popped him off and rolled off the smushy new mattress topper with barely a creak. The family quietly cheered for me. We watched the boy rip into Santa's gifts, opening up the treats tucked into our stockings. When Leif made an angry noise from the bed, I picked him up and waved him at his pile of goodies until he was confused into silence.
The next few hours were the same as millions of Christmas mornings over the miles and through the years, and we were laughing over our coffee cups as we picked through the wrappings to sit at the table with steak and eggs and mimosas.
We shredded potatoes with the new attachments for the kitchenaid I found under the bathroom sink (sent on a hunt by a clue and a piece of the machine in a small jewelry box), my mom stomped around in her new Harley Davidson motorcycle boots, Gavin set up a motion detector to startle the cats, and Leif cooked with his new plastic mixer and microwave. In the afternoon, we ran outside to push Gavin around on his new bike, my mom took off on the motorcycle for a joyride, and Leif ran up and down the driveway until his knees were scratched off.
In the evening we threw together a meat pie and sat around the living room to watch Rudolph while the cats rolled drunkenly in catnip. The baby was grouchy and snorgling on snot as he fell asleep on my chest, so I committed a parental sin and laid him on a pillow to keep his head tilted. And then a Christmas Miracle: Leif slept through the night without waking once. For 12 hours. I'm still happy about it.
And now the year rolls past us again, and the days will grow longer. Time to pack up the lights and put away the music and get back to life. Well, it's alright. Every day is just one day.
The next few hours were the same as millions of Christmas mornings over the miles and through the years, and we were laughing over our coffee cups as we picked through the wrappings to sit at the table with steak and eggs and mimosas.
We shredded potatoes with the new attachments for the kitchenaid I found under the bathroom sink (sent on a hunt by a clue and a piece of the machine in a small jewelry box), my mom stomped around in her new Harley Davidson motorcycle boots, Gavin set up a motion detector to startle the cats, and Leif cooked with his new plastic mixer and microwave. In the afternoon, we ran outside to push Gavin around on his new bike, my mom took off on the motorcycle for a joyride, and Leif ran up and down the driveway until his knees were scratched off.
In the evening we threw together a meat pie and sat around the living room to watch Rudolph while the cats rolled drunkenly in catnip. The baby was grouchy and snorgling on snot as he fell asleep on my chest, so I committed a parental sin and laid him on a pillow to keep his head tilted. And then a Christmas Miracle: Leif slept through the night without waking once. For 12 hours. I'm still happy about it.
And now the year rolls past us again, and the days will grow longer. Time to pack up the lights and put away the music and get back to life. Well, it's alright. Every day is just one day.
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