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Did you know that it's been over 3 years since I flew in a plane? You'd think I'd been raised by wolves. Do they even serve food on these things any more? Apparently, you're not supposed to use your cell phone when you're in the air. Do WHA?. The last trip we went on was an awesome combo platter of 4 days in Vegas continuing on to Long Beach, CA for a wedding. We planned this trip before we found out I was pregnant. I can't tell you how bummed I am that my first and only trip to Vegas involved a lot of napping and very little boozing. On the plus side we got to see the General Lee* and the cool car from the Munsters.

And as a public service, here are several things that I learned while travelling.

• Apparently "traveling" only has ONE "L"
  
• Bring your ipod charger, dumbass. Yeah, before traveling, I downloaded 3 Southpark episodes, the season premiere of 24, 6 podcasts and a bunch of music only to blow my battery wad on the outbound flight. Crap. No musica por pagey on the way back!
  
• It would be very helpful if that toothpaste and deoderant you wanted to take actually made it into your bag.
  
• It is NOT necessary to eat and/or drink everything that crosses your path. No matter how wonderful. Vermont has some damn fine micro brews. And damn good food too. Did i mention the yummy beers?
• Security was a breeze. Richard and I travelled two months after 9/11 and were unnerved to see military men walking about with automatic rifles. When we travelled together, if someone were going to get searched it was me. I think he'd agree, he's much shadier looking than me. I was a girl scout, for God's sake. Okay okay, i'll take my shoes off. But this time there were no lines, no zappy sounding wand, no problems! I still advise against making bomb jokes.
• Containers of maple syrup are damn heavy. I like to travel light, baby! But this time I got a little carried away filling up my carry-on for the return trip. I added 4 shirts, 1 pair of pants, 2 cans of maple syrup, 1 package of vermont cheddar, 3 magazines, and 1 jar of fresh apple butter.
  
• Culottes are a perfectly acceptable pants choice. Especially when they only cost $25 at an outlet. Seriously, I never thought I'd live long enough to see culottes come back in fashion. But here I am in culotte-ville. The more I say culotte, the more I keep thinking of those frozen coffee drinks at dunkin donuts. Mochafrappacullotta.
  
• Husbands and children left behind as one gallavants off to the wilderness don't actually tear the house down in one's absense! The sink was empty, the child was well fed and bathed, and the house orderly! woohoo! I shouldn't have ever doubted!

So here I am back home to days of torrential rain and work that has suddenly gotten really busy. wheeee! I am eternally grateful for my hubby planning and paying for my little sojourn, it was most needed and enjoyed!

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* For those more "cultured" than myself, the General Lee was the awesome redneck muscle car from the Dukes of Hazard, a Television show of the early 80s spawning a passion for "Daisy Duke" hot pants and for yelling "yee haw" at unsuspecting officers of the law.

So many things to bring up. Firstly, totally bummed that the US Men's National Soccer team got eliminated today from the World Cup. I blame the refs for giving ghana the free kick. But a good chunk of blame goes to our team for losing that first game to the Czechs. Damn Czechs. Thugs. And they got eliminated too, so neener neener neener. I'm very bummed on my hubby's behalf. He's been looking forward to this for months, and I expect there shall be some ass-dragging about the house in response.

Secondly, I'm doing my Friday Dance a day early as I take tomorrow off to fly up to Rutland Vermont to see my best bud, Amy. I'm flying into Burlington, home of one of the nicest beers ever, Magic Hat's #9 Their brewery isn't all that, but man their beer is good. Up until recently it wasn't available in dese parts.

Despite the friends, the beer, the lack of responsibility, I am, as often is the case, feeling conflicted! This will be the first time that I leave Richard and Ruby on their own! over night! three nights!! Richard is already threatening to call me and ask where the diapers are, or to tell me that we're out of milk. Or to ask if I've seen Ruby any where.

One of Richard's favorite games, which fortunately he hasn't been practicing TOO much lately, is to ask me something patently simple and obvious, which, by nature I feel obligated to answer. If I open my mouth to answer, all I see is his shit-eating grin.

But despite this ribbing, I'll miss them both terribly. I won't be back til long after Ruby's bed time Sunday, so Monday it might be hard to take her to the babysitter's house first thing.

And "whew" by the way. I have been suffering a lack of motivation and inspiration at work, which is double trouble when you're a graphic designer. I've been doing this for nigh onto 20 years and damn, it's not nearly as much fun as it used to be.

I've always been fascinated with people who have had serial careers, as in "artist/baker/pro wrestler" or "accountant/mountain climber/photographer" Me? no slashes whatsoever. Aside from my lottery winning day dreams, I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what I might do next. How far afield to I go from this one. This one is pretty lucrative, but brain-draining. I've been having a hard time being excited to pick out a typeface or color palette. whee? I used to be the extra-effort gal, but minimal effort is all you're gonna get from me right now. Maybe it's the summer? I don't know but I better get motivated again! Soon! Maybe this weekend away will help. I'm already feeling a little less surly.

What do YOU think my next career should be?

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Oh and another thing, I'm fairly nervous about the internet withdrawal symptoms I will start experiencing. Between working on a computer daily and our lovely iBook at home, I compulsively check my email and blogs frequently. I mean FREQUENTLY. A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT. I know they have a computers up in the wilds of Vermont, but I won't be able to sit there and geek out in front of the TV. I better go put more TV shows on my iPod. 

Have a GREAT weekend.  

It’s Monday and obviously a little quiet at work if I’m writing here. I’m pretty sure that despite having been born and raised here, in a unilingual (monolingual?) household that English is my second language. Everything that I’ve written in an email or instant message seems to have the verbs and adverbs flippity-flopped and the word I’m looking for is continually JUST at the tip of my tongue. Soon I will be busting out phrases like “That will sell like warm bread!”

In other news, I just ate several large handfuls of Jelly Bellies and feel oogy for doing so. I prefer to eat them one at a time so as to savor the flavor of each. I tried mixing a grape and a peanut butter to imitate a PB&J’s flavor but got a caramel instead of the PB and winded up with a grody concoction. So I stick to individual beans. But now they’re gone and I really could’ve eaten another handful so I could feel uber-oogy. At home, if I tarry too long before hitting the Jelly Belly Bag, I'm left with some very slim pickings, I was going to list out some of the flavors but it will suffice to say that most of them taste like ass. Although, some of the ones that Richard considers "ass" flavored, I actually enjoy. One man's ass is another's treasure?

Lacking a clever seque, I’ll just mention that I set i-tunes to shuffle today and I’ve gotta say that sucker is no where near sufficiently shuffled, I kinda expected actual randomness . I have 1,221 songs on this here computer and here are the last 15 played:

• Tear Your Love Apart – Gomez
• June – Pete Yorn
• Pecan Pie – Golden Smog
• Loose Ends Feat. Justin Timberlake – Sergio Mendes
• Fixed Bayonets – The Kingsbury Manx
• Hypnotise – The White Stripes
• Drop It Like It's Hot (Extra Clean) – Snoop Dogg & Pharrell Williams
• Track 12
• You're the Reason I'm Leaving – Franz Ferdinand
• Goodnight, Hollywood Blvd – Ryan Adams
• 10:1 – Rogue Wave
• Man-Revolutionary! – Rogue Wave
• Well That Was Easy – Franz Ferdinand
• Baby, Now That I've Found You – Alison Krauss
• Track 12 (NOT the same Track 12)

Two Rogue Wave songs in a row? And two different songs that never got their names entered into iTunes but are named “Track 12” and two Franz Ferdinands? Come’on!

A few notes about the songs listed, firstly, this does give you a view of the eclecticism I practice. The Sergio Mendes is a from a Remix album that highlights the Black Eyed Peas among others. It’s got a swingy Cuban jazz feel with some lovely hippity hop beats thrown in for good measure. Drop it Like it’s Hot is my personal favorite accompaniment to my Friday dance, you can’t help but raise the roof with this tune. I'm only a little embarrassed that I downloaded the "extra clean" radio version, but seriously, I just wouldn't think it cool if the kidlet busted out the "N" word.

And when I complained about the two Rogue Wave songs, it’s not a real complaint as their albums are just such beautiful pop treats. Whenever I’ve got my ‘pod on shuffle, invariably if there’s a song that makes me stop and look to see who’s playing, it’s Rogue Wave. I wish I could describe them better. They’re rather mellow and melodic with a swooopy orchestration that just lifts you up. Please please check out “Descended like Vultures” go get a free download of one of their songs, MY gift to YOU.

I should probably actually listen to the lyrics, though. I’ve been known to hum jauntily along until someone points out how depressing the lyrics are. Wha??? I’m notorious for not paying any attention whatsoever to the words. Ah well. I’ll be perfect in the next life!

Holla back, y'all!

Much like the US Men's National Soccer Team*, I'm a little off my game this week. I lack focus and I'm not holdling up my end of the deal. I'm not taking responsibility for my actions and I'm whiny about it! It's nothing serious, just a general blasé-blasé feeling.

Today is the sort of rainy day that makes you want to go bundle up on the couch with a grilled cheese sammich and some tomato soup. Maybe pay per view some chick flick that you don't want to inflict on your others. It doesn't help that work has been so freaking slow that sitting here. staring at my monitor. is. KILLING ME. Okay, that was a bit of hyperbole but you get my drift. I have read all my blogs. Twice. Which means I'll probably surf them once or twice more before the day is through and the poor writers will think I'm stalking them. Well, I DO need to see if anyone has responded to my comments after all.

On top of the aforementioned malaise, my belly has not had it's usual fortitude. I don't feel really bad, I just don't feel all that good either. just kinda blecky, but fortunately I'm on the upswing now. I hope!

On the positive side, with the warmer weather we've started a new Hayes family tradition; Firefly Watch 4000! Maybe I should trademark that name like all the news channels TM their "DOPPLE 5000 ACCU WEATHER. Anyway, back to our backyard. In the evenings, after we have Ruby pajamied, we sit on the back stoop and look for fireflies and listen to the birds sing their last songs of the day. It's a nice chance to cuddle up the girl and talk about her day and wind down before a book and bed. And speaking of bedtime, all of a sudden, she wants to sleep with her overhead light totally ON, it cannot be dimmed! no siree. And the door open. I wonder what we did? for the previous 2.5 years she's slept with the door closed and just a dim moon-shaped light. I'm sure we damaged her somehow!

Well, that's about it for now, just a bunch of mumbo jumbo without rhyme or reason.  

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* If you're not a total soccer geek you might not know that we lost to the Czech Republic 3-0 in our first World Cup match. From which my husband has yet to recover.

Tikki tikki tembo-no sa rembo-cheri bari ruchi-pip peri pembo.

Yep. Try it again. Recognize it? You should hear it rolling off my little girls 2.5 year old tongue.

My dad brought four boxes of my childhood stuff that had been hiding up in his attic lo these many years. In amongst the Heathcliff books, high school year books (Nice hair!) and prom dresses was a gem of a little book, Tikki Tikki Tembo, the story of two little boys in long-ago-China. Reading it out loud is fun because you get to say "Tikki tikki tembo-no sa rembo-cheri bari ruchi-pip peri pembo" roughly 20 or so times. As you can imagine, you get pretty proficient at pronouncing it.

Any kids' books you'd like to recommend? While you're at it recommend some kids' music that's actually listenable? I'd rather poke a screwdriver in my ear than listen to the wiggles or Barney. We're going on a 7 hour road trip to Charleston, SC and we're girding our loins, I mean stocking up on entertainment for the ABMOD (Ankle-Biting Midget Of Death). Speaking of whom, she's more of a knee-biter now that she's 36 inches tall! Holy Shmoly she's getting tall!

If you know who Bruce Arena is you are either a soccer fan or married to one. If you are married to one, you’re getting ready to start a month-long widowhood.

Have you ever known a soccer fan? Have you ever known an AMERICAN soccer fan? I’m sure in the rest of the world when you say “I like soccer (futbol)” it’s a duh on par with saying “I like food” I mean, come on, what’s not to like. But to love soccer in this country is not just to love the underdog, but to love the under-underdog. In a world of American football, basketball and baseball, loving soccer is like loving science fairs. You get lots of blank looks and raised eye brows.

The rest of the world is winding its knickers into a twist over the ongoing WORLD CUP! Businesses have shut down, commerce comes to a stand still, many a glazed look and slack mouth will come over the world at large. Here? Men will sneak out of work to catch a game at a pub. Sneaking looks over their shoulders to see if they’ve been followed.

You see, Bruce Arena is the coach of the US Men’s National Team and they are currently ranked 4th... Let me say that again FOURTH, they are ranked FOURTH in the world. You probably don’t understand how incredible and meaningless this number is. There are 32 countries competing in this Cup, the favorites are usually Brazil or France and they look at the American team not unlike the way we view Japanese baseball. “good try there, champ!!!” just imagine a lot more patronization and a lot less good cheer! We started to get a little more respect in the last Cup when we made it to the quarter finals. We have an intense first round of competition to get through this time, both Italy and the Czech republic are teams to be mortally feared but we have assembled one of our strongest teams ever.

Today is the first US game against the Czech republic, my husband is so excited he can barely think straight! I’m going to try to keep track online while he will be in the local English pub. He will, of course, drink beer in support of our team. He made of point of bringing to my attention what restraint he had shown by not drinking beer for every game he watched this weekend. That would have been a whole lot of beer!

Something strange and sad happened recently. A former coworker called to give me the news, an old boss of mine had been found dead of a self-inflicted gun wound. I hate the idea of suicide. I can’t believe the type of distress a person must be in to think that this is a good solution. I don’t want to think of anyone feeling so much pain.

He was a very, very talented man. Smart, charismatic, brash. Like many talented people he was promoted out of the illustration job he loved, and spent the rest of his career as an account manager and department head. One day he could be kind and generous. Another day might find your-little-stunned-bunny-self in the path of his Mack truck-sized rage. I have a hunch he was never taught how to deal with his anger in productive or straight forward ways. Often, if you were caught in this tempest, you weren’t the original cause of anger, but a sideways scape goat. He was talented and difficult, with mercurial moods and a sometimes raging temper, but I learned a tremendous amount from him in the 9 years that I worked for him.

He seemed to be searching for something. In his mid-fifties, he seemed unsure as to how he had gotten to where he was. Divorced twice and with a struggling business and going back to the heavy drinking he had avoided for so long, one wonders if he was unable to ask for the help he needed, didn’t want to seem a failure.

The saddest part of all are the four children he leaves behind.

His funeral is this morning. I’ll take a moment of silence and listen to one of his podcasts from a couple of years ago.
This reminds me of so many meetings held in his office. It is a perfect picture of his profanity and his humanity.

I’ve never meant this more than I do now, please rest in peace.

I just can't stop watching this clip. I think I've seen it about half a dozen times now. what's wrong with me?

I’m feeling conflicted today. Guilty. Relieved. Well, mostly guilty, actually.
I feel guilty to be a little relieved to be at work today rather than wrangling a yelly child.

The most interesting stories of parenting are usually the extreme and unusual, which may paint an unrealistic picture of Ruby. She is really so much fun. Silly and playful. She sings a lot, in fact we sing conversations back and forth about using the potty. Mostly she is singing about wanting M&Ms and I’m singing, “pee in the pott-eee and you can have TWOoooooo! Mmmmmmm and Mmmmmmmms” This morning, she turned on some music and asked me to dance – a heart-breakingly sweet thing. But what I often write about here is the yelling and like most kids her age there is lots of yelling sometimes.

And why do I feel guilty? Well, yesterday involved some serious, eardrum-piercing screams. And I got frustrated and impatient. I guess I wish I could be a paragon of patience, an endless well of understanding and fortitude. I’m positive that I contributed to the tantrum with my own stubbornness. We all calmed down and got back to a good place but I still felt guilty and resentful.

I ask myself quite regularly: What kind of parent do I want to be? How do I want my child to see and think of me? What sort of child do I want her to be?

Me? I want to be warm, loving and reassuring, a source of true unconditional love. And I want Ruby to be warm and loving too, and well-mannered and polite. So that means that I have to be firm about some of the rules but flexible when situations warrant it. And I need to figure out how to do this and be a better wife too. I can’t focus so much of my attention on our child that our relationship gets compromised. What a tight-rope!

So back to that first declaration of guilt. Back in the old, non-child days, work was a pain in the ass and I focused way to much time on it and dreaded dragging my sorry butt in on Mondays. Now, sometimes, I’m rather happy to be able to sit in peace and quiet at my desk first thing in the morning. I drink coffee, I read the internet and it’s mellow. There’s no yelling about having a whole waffle rather than this sorry-piece-of-crap cutup waffle.

Ugh. I’ve worked myself up into a lather. I know by this afternoon I’ll miss her like crazy and I’ll melt like sour cream on a hot potato when she wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a “big hug” when she gets home tonight.

Lest you think my girl odious by my previous posts, forthwith, a list of some of the many things I adore about Ruby:

• The big, big smile of hers that lights up the whole room
• Her method of “sneaking” up on her daddy or me “Sneak. Sneak. Sneak.” with little fingers doing little creep motions
• The way she says “I’m all nakee!”
• Her head full of curls
  
• When she cuddles herself up into my arms
• Singing conversations
• Silly voices she uses to sing different songs or say different phrases.
• The way she asks for a “big hog” (when she says this it sounds like the porcine word).
• Racing her across the yard to get a soccer ball.
• Her asking me the names of every single dog or kid we see any where as though I somehow know this.
• Every time she repeats something right out of my mouth.
• The way she sleeps with her little elephant clutched under her chin.

 

I could go on and on.

I guess I'll keep reminding myself that each day is a new opportunity to live up to my own expectations. Or I’ll take her to the doctor to make sure it’s not an ear infection!

In my next life I’d like to come back as beautiful and vapid (okay, okay, vapid-ER). I’d like to casually disregard rules that apply to everyone else and smile beatifically when they’re pointed out to me. I’d like to see that the world is indeed my oyster when I toss my hair over my shoulder with my celly planted firmly to my delicate and delectable ear.

I shall walk meaningfully and with purpose towards the megalopolic coffee shoppe, disregarding that I have totally invented a parking space where there was none before. “I’m special!!!!” shall be on an endless loop in my beautiful and slightly small brain, it shall be accompanied by the tweeting of Snow White’s little blue birds and harpsichord.

Every pair of pants I try on will fit beautifully and shall match my entire wardrobe in an entirely wonderful and perfect way and shall flatter my perfect, pert figure in all the best ways! Should unpleasant things happen to me there shall always be someone there to fix it for me. I shall never have bedhead but rather tastefully tossed tresses. I would speak in alliterations all the time, if I knew what that meant. But I don’t need to know, someone else will take care of it.