zoomaru

See Richard's response to my post "Seven Things My Husband is Wrong About"

If you didn't know we were geeks, this little exchange should seal the deal. I will say, however, that despite his getting a brand new laptop, we have NOT instant messaged eachother from across the living room. That's just... weird! 

I’ve mentioned that I’d like to lose a little weight, but I hadn’t even heard of the Podiatric Diet. “What?” you say, “I’ve heard of the Atkins diet and the South Beach Diet but what is this Podiatric Diet?” and I will have to explain that is where you keep sticking your foot in your mouth so much that A) you can’t put food there and B) your foot is very low in calories.

I guess we all feel socially awkward now and again. I can say with assurance that on the scale of Socially Awkward, I am neither Computer Programmer or Dungeons and Dragons awkward nor am I politician or minister smooth. This morning, everything I said to the coffee shop owner sounded like a criticism of his choices. I certainly like the choices I have made, but I don’t want to fall into that horrible close-minded habit of deciding that my choices are the only RIGHT choices. The owner and his wife have done everything differently, and I think that’s JUST right. For them. But the way I responded, I’m sure it sounded snotty. We had a small wedding, they had 250 guests. We were in our late 30s when we had a kid, they were 23 years old. Because we don’t know each other well they don’t know that I probably would have rather been a young parent, but I was not emotionally mature enough to be in a relationship solid enough to produce a commitment or children at 23. Now I made it sound like I had a choice about waiting until I was 38! I wonder if they have a series of greeting cards, next to the sympathy or get well there would be “sorry I sounded like an asshole.” HUGE market for those. I’ll give Hallmark a call.

I’m sure if I HAD gotten married at 23 that I would have wanted the whole glass slipper treatment, magic pumpkin and 12 white horses. By 36, however, and i’ve learned that money doesn’t just magically appear and it would be damn near impossible for me to host “the wedding of the CENTURY!!!!!”. I’ve learned my limitations when it comes to selecting wedding favors, place settings and table arrangements.

I also know that I hate pompous know-it-alls. I guess I’ll just chalk this up to something to work on. Note to self: don’t be a judgemental asshole.

The song of the day shall be Oasis’s “Champagne Supernova”. I know it’s been out forever, but it’s a perfect pop song. Swirling and lovely. Go listen to it now!

Firstly, I am NOT ALLERGIC TO CUPCAKES. This would be an injustice of mammoth proportions, if it were true, which IT’S NOT. My little allergy to preservatives has intensified lately and just because I was itchy last night, don’t believe for a minute that those cupcakes would betray my love.

Secondly, when I trip while walking it appears that it is a result of my clumsiness, but NO, I swear, it’s either my silly girl shoes or the floor has some grippy surface tension going on. I am not graceless. Stop laughing. Seriously.

Thirdly, eating all the yummy jelly bellies and leaving just black and brown and popcorn flavored ones is poor form. I will eat the popcorn ones because it is a strange thrill, but I’m not sure that I enjoy them. I have to move pretty fast if I’m going to get some of the strawberry margarita ones.

Fourtherly, I may squint at my computer, complain that I can’t read street signs and read fine print old-lady style, but this does NOT mean I need glasses. I have them, after all, I just don’t happen to know where they are right now. Maybe if I feel around for them, I’ll find them.

Fiverly, it does NOT take me 30 minutes to leave the house. It’s true I may look like I’m heading for the door, but invariably I’ve forgotten something. Door locked? Lights off? When I say “I’m ready to go” this means, I’m ready to go through my invisible checklist of to-do’s. But you are wise to stay seated until you see me open the door...

Sixish, taking my top off will NOT help your soccer team win or solve the middle east conflict.

Sevenly, you’ve totally underestimated how crazy I am about you. You’re the bestest and I love you!

um. i don't even know where to start with this latest search string that landed someone here

"french couches and culottes for boys diapers" 

um. okay. Culottes? For boys?  

note drippy chocolate ice cream cone... life is good! 

What was that? Twinge! There it is again. Oh that. Smells like guilt. Guilty-freshness. About what, you ask? That time I forgot to change that typo they asked me to. For leaving my girl at a child care center rather than caring for her myself (where there are two meanings for “caring”). For being short-tempered. For not being perfect. You name it. Sitting here in front of a computer those little twinges alight on my shoulder like the dust motes that casually float through the air. Flit. Off they go to land on my soda can. Oh crap, I kicked at the cat when he got in my way. Mote mote mote. Flit flit flit.

Maybe it’s just a poignant kind of song that pops on. Sniff. That’s kinda... sad...Flit!

Little heartbreak
From afar, I see Ruby sit down next to girl a couple of years older, watch the girl wordlessly get up and move 12 feet away. Ruby seems unaware of slight, but it takes a chunk of my heart. Even now remembering it tears me apart a little. I’m sure this is the first of many. Flit.

I thought of Sean the other day. I wish I could remember what brought him to mind. In high school he was among the dreamiest. Dark-layered-Vinny-Barbarino-hair, tall and slender with the widest of smiles and so freaking talented. He seemed to pick up any instrument and play flawlessly. How else to explain his being able to play trombone, drums and guitar - by ear? I wish that I had made out with him in high school. Well. To be honest I wish I had made out with everyone in high school. Seriously, I think I missed a lot of sloppy kissing that was going on.

Back then it didn’t matter what kind of car you drove. Even if you were driving the biggest beater on the block, the fact that you could load it up with a pile of sweaty kids made you golden. While my dad will be glad to hear that I was entirely too intimidated to follow through on much of my spit-swapping ambitions, I’m kinda bummed! We were all so SLIM!!! None of us were burdened with debt or questionably conservative politics yet. None of us had to worry about the Swarsky account or the car payment. Or how early we had to get up the next day or the fact that more than 3 beers makes us feel like shit. Ignorance is bliss and a beer bong, right? Did I just share too much?

So there was a certain amount of unrequited crush-ness going on for this Sean fellow. As often happens, I was the gal pal. Wheee! I know for a fact that my lovely husband has also been the male version of the gal pal. What would you call that? “Just friends” “I don’t like you in that way” “STOP TOUCHING ME!” – I joke, I never actually heard that (and of course Richard never did either), as a gal pal. Although there’s nothing quite like risking it all, going in for the kiss on the lips and realizing.... fucksticks.... he is SOOOooo not into me. It’s that amazing, little, TINY recoil.

Fortunately, being a complete wuss, and very seldom having risked it all I didn’t have to suffer that indignity very often, and never with this Sean fellow from whom I keep digressing. A few years ago I went back to my hometown to visit. And actually caught up with old friends there. They’ve all dispersed recently whether geographically, philosophically or through assery. But I used to do a better job of catching up with the homies and at least catching a beer with them. I hadn’t expected to see Sean, so was surprised to see him at the bar slash sub shop. And it wasn’t the physical changes that threw me, cause lord, we’ve all changed, (thanks for not pointing it out to me repeatedly), but his LACK of change in behavior. At some point during the evening, in front of 4 or 5 of our friends, apropos of nuthin’ he asks if I want to make out with him. ?????? What? Let me repeat that “Wanna make out? We should make out!” My other friends seemed less stunned than me, perhaps they’d seen him pull this stunt before, but I remember them acting as though nothing had happened. I guess that’s what you do, ignore awkward momentness. “Let’s make out!” When is that EVEN the right thing to say? When you’re 14? No, it’s still pretty awkward, even for a 14 year old. It’s just rather inexplicable.

It was a true life example of how what is appropriate as a teenager is not so charming in a 30-something year old. Do YOU have any examples?

Who’s that guy on NPR that talks us so gently through All Things Considered on the way home from work? You know the one with the sonorous voice? Ah, let’s look him up on NPR.org, oh yes, that’s him, Robert Siegel. Yesterday he was wrapping up a story about the song by Nelly Furtado “Promiscuous Boy” and how popular music affects the morals and actions of teenagers. Fun eh? This song also features the singing of a very well known producer and I can only imagine that Mr. Siegel read the name of this producer and thought “surely this is a typo” I can almost hear him say “timBUR land-uh” no one could logically be named “Timbaland” seriously!

Apparently I’m listening only to songs that start with the letter C. Should I keep on alphabetically? THAT is the question:

• Com’n – The Village Green (vintage sounding rock)
• Cada Beijo – Bebel Gilberto (mmm trancey remix !)
• Calendar Girl (oh so lovely!) – Stars
• California – Low
• California (also so lovely) – Rogue Wave (yeah yeah, I'm beating this one in the ground)
  
• Call to Arms – Timesbold
• Callin’ Out – Lyrics Born (hippity hop deliciousness)
• Calm - Maritime
• Call Me On Your Way Back Home – Ryan Adams
• Can I sleep In Your Arms - Willie Nelson (classic Red Headed Stranger!)
• Canadian Song – Matt Pond PA
  

Man, there’s a lot! I won’t bore you with the complete list. If you’d like some new, lovely shoe-gazing music check out Stars album “Set Yourself on Fire”. I totally forgot that I've been meaning to tell you about 3hive.com, several of the links above will take you there. They post links to legitimately free songs to download, FREE! lots of different independent genres. Also check out download.com, they also post legit songs for download, SOoo if you're looking to stock up on some new music you hae no excuses!

Stepping outside to a cool fall day surprised me. What is it about September that makes it stop being summer so abruptly? It’s like a switch was thrown over Labor Day. The lovely thing about living here is that you can continue wearing short sleeves and opened toe shoes well in to October. Today, though, my toes are a little breezy. Time to start thinking about buying a new pair of go-to shoes for the non-summer months. And time to buy new cool-weather clothes for Ruby. Every 4 or 5 months, it seems we must totally replace her wardrobe as none of her long-sleeved panted items fit any more.

It’s funny, sometimes, how I’ll suddenly really LOOK at her and realize how much taller she’s gotten. She long ago shed her babyness and is just a spitfire of a little kid. She used to have such a large pumpkin of a noggin, and now she’s more kid-dimensioned.

She’s so full of that toddler-brand of piss and vinegar. It’s a very good thing that Richard and I manage to take turns getting impatient. If we both got twitchy at the same time, it could spell disaster, beer and an early bedtime for everyone involved. She also has a lovely way of playing pretend and she makes up great songs that involve “everyone’s FWY-ing....” (as in crying) among other things.

She has taken to trying to cause me injury, though, lately. Quick as a wink, I’ll find myself in a head-butted stupor, which is bad enough, but then I see her sly smile of satisfaction. That’s the fast track to Page-pissed-off-ville. She has knocked me in the chin, leapt into me brandishing both pointy knees at my delicate bits, and she’s bitten me, not always ungently but hey! Quitit!!!! I know she loves the reaction, but, in pain, it’s hard to NOT react.

And it goes without saying that as an almost 3 year old, she wants to do everything by herself. She is THAT grownup and all. And this is often fine, except for the many things she hasn’t quite mastered. And despite all this independence, she knows when I’m unhappy with her and wants nothing better than to curl up in my lap and make it better. Except, of course, if she’s caused me physical harm, in that case she’s got this little grin....

Are you starting to think this is some kind of photo or design blog? What can I say? I'm broadening my hobbies!

Here's an untouched version of a recent photo:

A few photoshop layers and brushes later and you might end up with something like this:

I know it doesn't look "authentically" old but think it has a little more vavavoom.

UPDATE: meant to thank Dooce for the link to these cool brushes