Ten years ago, my beautiful friend Carolyn turned thirty. She had told us that the last party she had was when she was five, and it was such a catastrophe her mother vowed to never throw her another one. So, to celebrate the old age calamity that is thirty, we threw her a six year old barbie party, complete with a beautiful barbie princess cake. I remember that at the time her mother told her something like, "Wow. They must really like you."
Now, her mother is gone. Her mother in law is gone. She has three sweet boys. And she is navigating the slings and arrows of her outrageous fortune with the characteristic grace and charm that defines her.
Happy birthday, my dear sweet friend.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Big Martha and Martha
Today I called my mom.
Me: I find myself thrust on the horns of an organizational dilemma. I have an address book that I love because it is like a little notebook and you can put pages in and out. But it is 10 years old and doesn't have a place for email or cell numbers. And so I went to Barnes and Noble and got another one, and it is great. It has home phone, cell and work and email and birthdays and other notes, but its tabs are AB CD, etc and you can't add pages, so am I supposed to mix up all the As and Bs? Because that will never work. The old one also has AB, CD, but I can put all the As on one pages and the Bs on the other, so I am not sure what to do. Should I keep the old one, although it is clearly outdated or move to the new one?
Silence for a few seconds
Mom: Who gives a shit? (when my mom says shit it sounds like she-it) Seriously, I am hurting all over because I changed the shower curtain and even though I always forget some (I assumed she meant the rings when she said some) , I said I wasn't going to but I did and had to go back and do it over again. And now I am aching all over listening to you tell me the stupidest thing and I am thinking-- "who gives a shit." Like your father says, "Who gives a flying f@#$?"
Yet another reason why there will never be a Stella Stevens omnimedia.
P.s. I realize I seem a tad hyphen-ish, but the difference is, I keep it to myself (for the most part). I can still watch the tv if the laundry room door is open.
Me: I find myself thrust on the horns of an organizational dilemma. I have an address book that I love because it is like a little notebook and you can put pages in and out. But it is 10 years old and doesn't have a place for email or cell numbers. And so I went to Barnes and Noble and got another one, and it is great. It has home phone, cell and work and email and birthdays and other notes, but its tabs are AB CD, etc and you can't add pages, so am I supposed to mix up all the As and Bs? Because that will never work. The old one also has AB, CD, but I can put all the As on one pages and the Bs on the other, so I am not sure what to do. Should I keep the old one, although it is clearly outdated or move to the new one?
Silence for a few seconds
Mom: Who gives a shit? (when my mom says shit it sounds like she-it) Seriously, I am hurting all over because I changed the shower curtain and even though I always forget some (I assumed she meant the rings when she said some) , I said I wasn't going to but I did and had to go back and do it over again. And now I am aching all over listening to you tell me the stupidest thing and I am thinking-- "who gives a shit." Like your father says, "Who gives a flying f@#$?"
Yet another reason why there will never be a Stella Stevens omnimedia.
P.s. I realize I seem a tad hyphen-ish, but the difference is, I keep it to myself (for the most part). I can still watch the tv if the laundry room door is open.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
what I want for my birthday
what I want for my birthday, which is approaching. Please note, only 3 people who read this blog are required to get me a present. okay mom and dad and hyphen here it goes
1. chickens.
2. chicken coop a la Heather Bullard.
2. rain water collection system.
3. a banjo ***.
4, lessons for said banjo.
5. a calico cat (I really want a cat).
6. A cold frame made from windows that are in the rafters of my garage.
7. A trellis made from the extra chicken wire from the coop.
8. a compost bin
see how this list resembles a honey-do list? see the trend here? except for the banjo of course, but I know where one is collecting dust....
so I have a crush on banjo steve martin? who doesn't?
1. chickens.
2. chicken coop a la Heather Bullard.
2. rain water collection system.
3. a banjo ***.
4, lessons for said banjo.
5. a calico cat (I really want a cat).
6. A cold frame made from windows that are in the rafters of my garage.
7. A trellis made from the extra chicken wire from the coop.
8. a compost bin
see how this list resembles a honey-do list? see the trend here? except for the banjo of course, but I know where one is collecting dust....
so I have a crush on banjo steve martin? who doesn't?
Monday, January 16, 2012
corcovado
I went to bed last night at midnight and was really annoyed with myself for pissing away 2 hours on the computer rather than reading my Martha Stewart Homekeeping book or the Scarlett Pimpernel for the 2 person book club of which I am a member.
I woke up with a sore shoulder and then took an advil, peed and couldn't fall back asleep due to the horrible and unceasing snoring of the panzon next to me. I gave up any hope of sleeping in the bed and headed for the sofa.
I cursed the dog, who feels the need to follow me wherever I go and who feels that sleeping is a pack activity when clearly it is a solo endeavor. I tried to get comfortable and had a coughing and hacking fit and was annoyed with the cold I have had for over a month now.
And just when I was drifting off, Tallulah started to cry. And I cursed her for crying, for being sick with a cold and double ear infections and myself for being the horrible mom who curses her baby when she is tired. She was burning up and I took her downstairs and fixed a bottle, cursing H under my breathe because I could hear him snoring from the kitchen and was jealous of his ability to sleep through a nuclear holocaust. I fumbled for tylenol and got annoyed that we have such a tiny bit left and was annoyed at the interminable recall, which no one understands.
Then I went back upstairs and tried to get the pitiful child to sleep.
She had a few swigs of her bottle. And put her little head on my chest.
The room was very quiet. The street was quiet--the world was very quiet. All six billion of its people fast asleep except for me and this poor, poor, pitiful child. And then lyrics from an old song drifted into my weary head
this is where I want to be
here with you so close to me,
until the final flicker of life's embers.
I, who was lost and lonely,
believing life was only
a bitter tragic joke have found in you,
the meaning of existence, oh my love....
I woke up with a sore shoulder and then took an advil, peed and couldn't fall back asleep due to the horrible and unceasing snoring of the panzon next to me. I gave up any hope of sleeping in the bed and headed for the sofa.
I cursed the dog, who feels the need to follow me wherever I go and who feels that sleeping is a pack activity when clearly it is a solo endeavor. I tried to get comfortable and had a coughing and hacking fit and was annoyed with the cold I have had for over a month now.
And just when I was drifting off, Tallulah started to cry. And I cursed her for crying, for being sick with a cold and double ear infections and myself for being the horrible mom who curses her baby when she is tired. She was burning up and I took her downstairs and fixed a bottle, cursing H under my breathe because I could hear him snoring from the kitchen and was jealous of his ability to sleep through a nuclear holocaust. I fumbled for tylenol and got annoyed that we have such a tiny bit left and was annoyed at the interminable recall, which no one understands.
Then I went back upstairs and tried to get the pitiful child to sleep.
She had a few swigs of her bottle. And put her little head on my chest.
The room was very quiet. The street was quiet--the world was very quiet. All six billion of its people fast asleep except for me and this poor, poor, pitiful child. And then lyrics from an old song drifted into my weary head
this is where I want to be
here with you so close to me,
until the final flicker of life's embers.
I, who was lost and lonely,
believing life was only
a bitter tragic joke have found in you,
the meaning of existence, oh my love....
Friday, January 6, 2012
herding tallulah and other general animal issues
1. Herding Tallulah
Tallulah is just at the age Annabelle was when I started to stay home with her and write this blog. And thank goodness for this blog, else I would think Tallulah is a mad demon from hell. Now I know that her behavior is completely normal. Or that I have two mad demon from hell children.
We were at Barnes and Nobles today. And T was "squirming and a'worming" as Annabelle and I like to say. I put her down and she proceeded to take books off the shelves. Another customer saw us and said something like "Oh Lord" and walked away. WALKED AWAY. But I could care less because we were in book heaven--that is until Annabelle realized that they didn't have Peasant Pig and the Terrible Dragon and got huffy and I had enough of saying "no Tallulah" and putting books back on the wrong shelves. So we went downstairs to pay and that's when she started to run off. I tried to catch her and she would just run in the other direction. Now, I figured Mr. Barnes wouldn't mind if the children's books were a tad askew, but he'd probably be real put upon if the mole skin journals and book marks by the cash wrap were rearranged. So I continued chasing her and was wondering where in the hell the back up cashiers were, when Annabelle started to chase her too. "Annabelle you go that way and I'll come this way and head her off at the pass." Like two cowgirls herding a stray. Worked though.
But because I write this blog as a sort of scrap book for myself, I remembered the time Annabelle took all the clothes off the shelves at the baby gap, which, coincidentally, is where we went after Barnes and Nobles.
2. From Strays to give-aways
Annabelle: "remember that beautiful garden we planted last year by the deck."
Me: yeah.
Annabelle: Remember how the dog dug it up? Why did she do that?
Me: well, that's where she has always liked to dig once the weather gets hot. Every year, I think she won't, but she always does.
Annabelle: we should give her away or something like that to some other people who want her and maybe get a cat or some chickens or a duck or a pup, but a small pup that doesn't like to dig. Cats don't dig.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We don't say stupid or idiot around Annabelle, but she realizes that the dog is both! And it was 75 degrees today in Houston. Five more degrees and the dog will begin her annual dig which causes there to be dirt by the back door from the day it hits 80 until the day it doesn't, which is roughly 10 months out of the year, giving us just 2 months to put some pansies and fennel and a rose bush in and watch the fennel get eaten up by swallowtail caterpillars!!
And Tallulah is scared of the dog! But, there has been a rash of burglaries in the 'hood lately and they don't seem to go to houses with dogs, so she will remain with us until the suspects are apprehended.
I am currently on the lookout for a black, late model toyota camry.
Tallulah is just at the age Annabelle was when I started to stay home with her and write this blog. And thank goodness for this blog, else I would think Tallulah is a mad demon from hell. Now I know that her behavior is completely normal. Or that I have two mad demon from hell children.
We were at Barnes and Nobles today. And T was "squirming and a'worming" as Annabelle and I like to say. I put her down and she proceeded to take books off the shelves. Another customer saw us and said something like "Oh Lord" and walked away. WALKED AWAY. But I could care less because we were in book heaven--that is until Annabelle realized that they didn't have Peasant Pig and the Terrible Dragon and got huffy and I had enough of saying "no Tallulah" and putting books back on the wrong shelves. So we went downstairs to pay and that's when she started to run off. I tried to catch her and she would just run in the other direction. Now, I figured Mr. Barnes wouldn't mind if the children's books were a tad askew, but he'd probably be real put upon if the mole skin journals and book marks by the cash wrap were rearranged. So I continued chasing her and was wondering where in the hell the back up cashiers were, when Annabelle started to chase her too. "Annabelle you go that way and I'll come this way and head her off at the pass." Like two cowgirls herding a stray. Worked though.
But because I write this blog as a sort of scrap book for myself, I remembered the time Annabelle took all the clothes off the shelves at the baby gap, which, coincidentally, is where we went after Barnes and Nobles.
2. From Strays to give-aways
Annabelle: "remember that beautiful garden we planted last year by the deck."
Me: yeah.
Annabelle: Remember how the dog dug it up? Why did she do that?
Me: well, that's where she has always liked to dig once the weather gets hot. Every year, I think she won't, but she always does.
Annabelle: we should give her away or something like that to some other people who want her and maybe get a cat or some chickens or a duck or a pup, but a small pup that doesn't like to dig. Cats don't dig.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We don't say stupid or idiot around Annabelle, but she realizes that the dog is both! And it was 75 degrees today in Houston. Five more degrees and the dog will begin her annual dig which causes there to be dirt by the back door from the day it hits 80 until the day it doesn't, which is roughly 10 months out of the year, giving us just 2 months to put some pansies and fennel and a rose bush in and watch the fennel get eaten up by swallowtail caterpillars!!
And Tallulah is scared of the dog! But, there has been a rash of burglaries in the 'hood lately and they don't seem to go to houses with dogs, so she will remain with us until the suspects are apprehended.
I am currently on the lookout for a black, late model toyota camry.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
guess where we were....
1. 1st thing in the morning, she whispered very sweetly "mama can I get in the pack and play with Tallulah."
2. she ate chorizo and egg tacos.
3. she went down to the river to look at ducks.
4. she drew on bricks with chalk.
5. she picked pecans.
6. she had oreos as a snack.
7. she washed pecans. (not sure why other than she wanted to play with water)
8. she complained about being wet and took off her clothes***
8a. she had a minor fit when told to put clothes back on.
9. she examined her broccoli plant.
10. she tried to catch butterflies with her homemade net.
11. she towed her sister in a wagon with her trike.
If you are guessing castroville, you would be correct, sir.
***if you got my christmas card, you probably noticed that my girls were not in flouncy dresses or matching christmas pjs. they were in a diaper cover and underwear, because in the case of the diaper cover there is nothing cuter than a baby in a diaper cover and in the case of the underwear, that is what she likes to wear and in fact had an underwear tan/grime line for most of last summer. And even when it is 40 degrees outside, it is hard to convince her to put pants on.
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