Spin Cycle: There is No Write Way

The written word and I have a love/hate relationship. Hand me a pen and paper when I'm in the depths of despair, and the perfect muse will speak through me, scrawling poetry in shining lines across the page. Should I try to write something involving plot or character, however, the experience becomes not unlike attempting to drain the ocean with a sieve. I've had a blank Word document saved on my desktop for the last 6 months titled, "Here is where I will write a bitchin' story". I'm tortured, really. Very sad.

Despite the horror, I have selected three pieces to post for this spin. The first is a picture book that I wrote when my husband wanted something new in his portfolio. I wrote this, and then he put our niece Codi's tennies on the deck railing and drew the accompanying illustration:

The Walk
I was walking 'long the sidewalk
not much looking where I was going
when I slowed to inspect an anthill
and some flowers that were growing
inside a fence, around a tree
and as I bent to sniff a leaf
I felt a tapping on my shoulder,
turned, and to my disbelief
saw a magic little man
mouth agape in obvious surprise
"You have lovely, dainty shoes, " he exclaimed,
"and they look just about my size!"
Now I loved those little shoes,
they had sparkles and red laces
and with a marker on the toes
I'd drawn two funny little faces
(so that I'd never be very lonely
with my shoes to share the view)
but when I looked apon the gnome
I thought, "Might he be lonely, too?"
So I untied my loopy laces
and comforted him, "There, there,
you may have my friendly shoes
as I can make another pair."
Well that man was so ecstatic
you see, he was so very glad
because, he explained,
the holey shoes he wore
were the only shoes he had.
And then he thanked me most profusely
as I reveled in bare feet
that scrunched in spiky, greeny grass
as he skipped gaily up the street.
So I headed for home and saddle shoes
that have been quite transformed, I think
by the sequins and the sparkles,
purple laces and the ink.

Illustration by Jesse Mohn 2000









I'm a huge fan of Jane Yolen, and in her book Here There Be Dragons, she writes about how she was invited to join a bunch of writers that were contributing to a book made up entirely of 100-word stories. I have a hard time with editing, and so tried my hand at writing 100 100-word stories as an exercise (I wrote 8-lol!) Here's my favorite one:

Genie

Yuck. Only the love of her man would lead her to make baked beans. Taking up the can opener, she held her breath before continuing. When she resumed, thick white smoke poured from the can, spilling downward to roll along the floor. Yelping, she cleared the kitchen floor in one bound, head turned, looking fearfully over her shoulder. From the smoke emerged a small man. Hours later when Jesse came in the door, he didn't seem to notice the new palatial size and furnishing of his apartment. Lifting a silver dome from a platter he said, "What, no baked beans?"

This last is a work-in-progress, a romance/murder mystery (I think.) I'm kinda unsure as to which direction I want to take with this and my sister Natalie has been less than helpful:

Me: "What if Maribeth finds a body in the freezer? Or wait! What if she kills Cade and puts him in the freezer!?"
Natalie: "No! What's wrong with you?! The heroine can't kill the hero!"
Me: "Okay, what if they fall in love and then she finds out that they didn't meet by chance, he planned it because he is looking for his biological sister and she may or may not be it?!? Then she kills him."
Natalie: "What?! No! No incest!"
Me (in a last ditch effort): "Okay, I've got it! He's a recovering meth addict!"
Natalie: "No, Angela! We're supposed to like him!"

Clearly, I have issues...anyway, here it is:

Untitled
On a particularly lovely April morning, love found Maribeth Hoyt as she stood unsuspecting beneath a broken umbrella waiting for the bus that would take her to the restaurant that employed her as their associate manager. The moment was lost on her initially, as she was busy lamenting the ruination of her new heels, now standing in a puddle the size of Canada that would, she was sure, prove to be much deeper in the middle. For a second, she imagined that the water would swallow her up, closing over her head for a count of eternity when she tried to board the bus and feed the correct change into the correct slot with cold, wet fingers. Overwhelmed by the thought, Maribeth did not notice that the bus had arrived and the other passengers begun to stream toward the open doors until she felt a hand close over hers, and the handle of the umbrella she held.


Instinct caused her to pull away from this intrusion, until she found herself staring into the face of a man that she’d never met before that looked, on top of amused in the area of his eyes and grim around the mouth, like he knew things about her that she’d never even admitted to herself.

"This is garbage." He said matter-of-factly as he twisted her functionless rain gear out of her fingers so quickly and deftly that if he hadn’t addressed her, he could’ve made the switch (for that is what he had just done she realized) without her being any-the-wiser. The umbrella that her fingers now curled around was of a much higher quality than she was accustomed to. "Oh no, I couldn’t!" Maribeth tried to laugh, but her breath caught when he turned her masterfully and, with a hand at the small of her back, marched her through the puddle-of-death and up the steep corrugated steps of the bus, paying for both of their fares effortlessly, with one hand and no counting or groans of impatience from the peanut gallery. "You can give it back to me tomorrow if it’s stopped raining. The umbrella, not the change. No arguing." Maribeth tried to summon the outrage that came so easily to the heroines in romance novels but could only gape and then blush when he winked at her. He looks slick, she thought, but in a really appealing way.

The next morning, he met her at the bus-stop. Handing her one of two insulated cups from Starbucks, he took a sip of his own coffee before accepting the umbrella that she held out to him. He tucked it under his arm before assisting her up the steps with a hand on her elbow, again paying her fare and sitting reassuringly beside her before winking as she got off at her stop at the restaurant.

"What’s this guy’s name?" Denise demanded, standing in the closet that the restaurant boasted as its office. Denise’s hair was currently red and worn in a spiked fan at the back of her head, held in place by bright lacquered chop-sticks. She wore a skin tight black t-shirt with the store’s logo on it, a black denim mini skirt, and rainbow striped tights along with her steel toed work boots and air-brushed acrylic claws that were currently brandishing a gleaming spat for emphasis.

"How in God’s name do you cook with those damn things and where is your hairnet?" Maribeth asked for the millionth time, and smiled to herself as she sat back to appreciate Denise's ability to escalate.


"I told you, these nails are…stop evading the question! Seriously, spill it! Where did you meet him, what’s his name, and when do we get to meet him?"

"And I told you, ‘at the bus stop, I don’t know and shortly after never! Break’s over, Niecy."

Denise narrowed her eyes and pointed a talon in Maribeth’s direction. "Well that’s just fine. You just remember that while you’re back here playing with inventory and schedules, I’m going to be informing the girls up front and I swear in the name of Prince and the Revolution that I will get the details from you eventually and eviscerate this guy if he harms one boring hair on your head. He sounds like a total psycho, take it from a girl who knows!"

Maribeth raised a hand self-consciously to the mahogany chignon she preferred for work as Denise stomped toward the cook’s line . Her hair was too coarse, too curly to be given free reign while at work. Soon she would be finishing up morning numbers and calling them in to her regional manager and then heading to the floor, where she would likely find herself carrying at least a few trays on her shoulder out to tables before making rounds to the guests and letting the servers go one by one as the day went on. She glanced at the right shoulder of her new suit jacket ruefully, resigning herself to the likelihood of scorch marks from the trays before the day was out, thinking for the thousandth time that the company should either allow uniforms or offer a clothing allowance in addition to management’s meager salary.

By the time Maribeth made it to the front of the house, breakfast was in full swing. Servers swung in and out of the pantry, twirling through like modern dancers in a careful ballet to choruses of "Food up!" "Tray in!" and "Behind you!" Maribeth watched a server named Julie swipe a fry from a plate that showcased a gigantic omelet. "I’m starving!" Julie grinned. "Knock it off or I’ll break your fingers!" Maribeth smiled back, "Now get this food out of my window!" "You know you love me!" Julie sang as she carried the tray as big as she was out the door like it weighed no more than a feather. "And that will be the death of me!" Maribeth quipped.


Hours later, exhausted and trying to talk herself into being enthusiastic for the remaining three hours of her ten hour shift, Maribeth gamely tried to count down the drawers from the morning while her assistant manager smoked a cigarette and grilled her. "So basically what you’re saying is that you don’t know this guy from Adam, and that he could, for all you know, conceivably be a mass-murderer learning your typical movements before snatching and killing you." At this point in the conversation, Sarah offered her boss and friend a cigarette, eyes laughing as she watched Maribeth’s internal war with good and evil.

"Sixty, eighty, hundred, knock-it-off-I-quit-smoking, one twenty, one forty.."

"Is he hot?"

"One six…" Maribeth looked up, "Gorgeous. Mysterious. Exciting. Which is a problem, because as you know I am average, ordinary, and boring. This is the kind of thing that happens to Denise, which is why we need her. So we can live vicariously through her while the rest of us go home to an empty apartment and a cat or a husband and several children that need to be fed, the irony of which should not be lost on you. Now I need you up front, and I need to count this drawer so that I can make the deposit and take your place up front, thereby allowing you to go home. Or is that not the goal?" Maribeth stared at Sarah’s little face pointedly.

"We’re not done talking about this, and you are not ordinary and boring you are sneaky and scary smart, which is why we’re all so worried that you’re being so dumb about this. It’s almost as bad as flying to Alabama to meet someone that you met over the Internet. We do not approve." And then as Maribeth resumed counting, Sarah leaned in to whisper, "Seven, fifty-two, eleven!" before scooting out on a laugh as Maribeth gave a deep sigh and started counting over.

***************************************************************

Cade Nelson pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, turned off the engine to his car and wondered why the hell he had driven here after the bus had dropped him off near the park-n-ride. So what if she hadn’t been on the bus for the ride home. What if she had only headed into this restaurant for breakfast these last few days before going to work somewhere else nearby? Why hadn’t he at least gotten her name? He sighed and started the ignition, and then turned it off again. He’d been trying to play this cool. Having learned early on that if you said as little as possible and looked agreeable, most people, good people, when left to determine whether they liked you or not generally decided to like you on very little evidence. He figured that it was because they could imagine that he thought the same things that they thought, which he sometimes did. The stutter and speech impediment of his early years were long gone, but the lessons he’d learned to cope back then were more than useful all the way up to the here and now. What the hell. Worst case scenario he could eat a dinner that he didn’t have to make himself.

"Omigod, omigod!" teenaged server Emily burst into the office as Maribeth zipped the deposit bag closed and slipped one arm into her red overcoat. "There is a really cute guy asking for you at the register!"
"Me me, or manager me?" Maribeth asked, trying to prepare herself for the worst, like being yelled at for forty-five minutes over a serving of lukewarm corn.
"Neither!" Emily crowed. "He described you. He asked if you were a regular customer or an employee. Sarah’s giving him the standard, ‘We can’t give out information about our employees’ spiel! Get out there!"

Maribeth fought the urge to bolt down the hall, telling herself, "It isn’t him. Who else would it be?! No, it isn’t him." Reaching the front counter she asked Sarah, "Did someone ask for me?"
"Uh-huh!" Sarah’s arms were folded and she nodded to the table she’d sat last. "Mystery Bus Guy?"
"Mystery Bus Guy." Maribeth realized that she was fighting for breath only when Sarah slapped her hard between the shoulder blades. She could just turn and walk away, she thought, and as if he’d heard her, Mystery Bus Guy lifted his handsome head from the shadow of his folded menu, met her eyes and half rose to his feet. "Excuse me," Maribeth reached for a normal voice before turning on her heel and clipping back into the pantry.


"How did he describe me?" she asked Emily who was even now half over the cook’s window relaying details to Denise. Shit.

"Really pretty girl who only wears black, white and red. Marginally prepared for disaster." Emily’s wide mouth managed to look mocking while her eyes sold innocence.

"He did not say that!"

"I swear to my mother!" Behind Emily Denise’s face looked like a thundercloud, and Maribeth could hear her acrylic nails tapping menacingly against the cutting board.

"Em, get back on the floor! Denise…" Maribeth tried to think of something managerial to say and then decided against it. Denise was one of the few that never needed babysitting. She always did her job and Maribeth considered her a dear, personal friend. Besides, she didn’t believe in being bossy for the hell of it. "Neicy, don’t look like that!" Maribeth scooped up a carafe of coffee and two mugs in one hand, a dish of creamer and 2 small glasses of water in the other. The familiar weight of the drinks on her hands steadied her. "I’ve still got it." She murmured to herself before heading toward her mystery man and some answers.


Cade felt himself vibrating in his seat as he watched her speak briefly to the tiny woman at the register and disappear back into the unknown bowels of the restaurant, only to appear minutes later, hands full and headed his way. She walked…efficiently, he decided. She seemed different here than she had during their short acquaintance on the city bus, more deliberate, less anxious. It suited her, he decided. He appreciated facets. He smiled as she slid a coffee cup his way, poured it half full and then set the cream and ice water in front of him as well.

"So now I get to buy you coffee," Maribeth announced in what she hoped were round, dulcet, non-insane tones. He nodded sagely, silently. Well, fine. Two could play at that game. Maribeth took a sip of hot black coffee, telling herself that it would weaken her position were she to fuss with little packets of sugar and non-dairy creamer. Rather than grimace at the bitterness of the strong brew that her patrons either loved or hated, Maribeth watched his face over the edge of her thick white cup. Finding his eyes steady on hers, she set down her coffee and laughed softly.

"What?"

"I feel like we’re playing a game of mirror gone bad. Did you play that game as a kid? You know, I raise a hand and you copy?" Maribeth mimed several exaggerated movements for him to demonstrate.

Smiling, Cade ran a hand though his hair. "Uh, no, I didn’t play that game, but I think I know what you mean. What is your name, Umbrella Girl?"

"Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. Maribeth." She slid her right hand toward him for a handshake and wasn’t too surprised when he held it instead. Pulling her hand from his, Maribeth added with a definite edge to her voice, "Do you have a name, or should I just call you ‘Stalker’?"

Hiding the alarm he felt, Mystery Bus Guy asked, "Is that something you have to worry about often?" He meant it as a joke and was surprised at how serious his voice sounded.

"Only once." Maribeth shrugged.

"You’re kidding."

"No, no kidding. A boyfriend of mine had a friend that didn’t understand…boundaries. After my boyfriend went to college, I’d just turn around and he’d be there. At the grocery store. At the library. At my college dorm. He drove right onto the lawn at my parents place and got out of the car with a huge vase full of roses, a big smile on his wide-open face. He scared the hell out of me. Luckily, my dad scared the hell out of him and that was that."

"Christ. I’m Cade, and I promise not to stalk you."

"Fair enough." Maribeth took another shot of caffeine and noticed Denise coming toward them. "Danger, Will Robinson! This girl’s always loaded for bear."

Cade looked to see a young fury bearing down on them and had just enough time to recall one stanza of the wicked witch of the west theme before she was upon them, sliding smoothly into the booth beside Maribeth, displacing her with apparently little to no effort. The baby-faced medusa bared her teeth at him in a flash of pseudo-friendliness before speaking in a dangerously sweet sing-song, "I’m Denise. Who are you and where do you live?"
Maribeth wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. So much for a beautiful, mysterious romance.


"Denise! You don’t have to answer that, Cade. Denise, what are you doing here?"

"Checking with you before clocking out, of course." Maribeth narrowed her eyes, as both women knew full well that this was something neither of them had bothered with once they’d determined the other to be trustworthy. "Seriously. Steve came in late so I need your key card to authorize being on the clock past my scheduled time out. As for you, I suggest that you do answer my questions. Less painful that way, you know. That is, unless you enjoy having a hostile chaperone while attempting to get the girl." Maribeth shook her head ruefully and made a small strangled sound.

"Cade Nelson." Cade reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and handed Denise a business card. "There’s my work address and phone as well as home phone, cell and email address. Maribeth, " he handed her a second card, "you should have at least as much information as our friend Denise."

Satisfied that she had enough information to give to the police should Maribeth turn up missing, Denise reverted to her usual darling self and said goodbye.

"I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking you to dinner." Cade smiled at Maribeth ruefully.

"No, but you can stay and have dinner while I run to the bank before it closes. If you want to stay until eight we can take the bus together."

"Actually, I brought my car. I usually drive my car into the city and then park it and take the bus. That’s why I’m here, really. I hadn’t realized that I was looking forward to seeing you until you weren’t there tonight. I’d seen you head this way the last few days when you got off of the bus and so…I could drive you home when you’re done with your shift if that’s okay with you."

Maribeth thought for a moment and then decided that if this guy was going to break her heart, he would at the very least be a very good time up until that point. It had been a too long since her last very good time. "Deal!" She stood and reached out a hand for a menu from the dinner hostess just coming onto the evening shift. "Dinner’s on me," she said, and felt a curl of anticipation twist low in her belly. "I’ll be back."

For more creative writing spins, visit Jen at Sprite's Keeper!

Cute Kid Interview Meme That I Hijacked From Jen@Coconutbelly

I asked the kids seperately, and was surprised by how similar their answers were:

1. What is something mom always says to you?

Winter: "Rise and Shine!"

West: "Um, behave?"



2. What makes mom happy?

Winter: "Flowers."

West: "Um, gardening with me?"



3. What makes mom sad?

Winter: "When I don't sift the cat litter."

West: "Um, me not paying attention? Me not spending time with you."



4. How does your mom make you laugh?

Winter: "Dun-hammm, dot com!"

West: "Um, doing silly things like going, 'Doing!' (rolls eyes)."



5. What was your mom like as a child?

Winter: "Older. The oldest."

West: "Uh, Pokemon? You was silly? Uh, mom, I really don' know!"



6. How old is your mom?

Winter: "36."

West: "32. I learned that from Sissy."



7. How tall is your mom?

Winter: "Good question. Taller than I am just by a bit."

West: "42 inches."



8. What is her favorite thing to do?

Winter: "Garden."

West: "Um, garden! Plants."



9. What does your mom do when you're not around?

Winter: "Sleep."

West: "Um, I, you, come to me or I come to you?"



10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?

Winter: "World's Best Gardener."

West: "Um, you will be famous for having your own garden store?"



11. What is your mom really good at?

Winter: "Reading! and gardening."

West: "You're really good at...singing?"



12. What is your mom not very good at?

Winter: "Um, singing the theme song for 'Tokyo Mew Mew'."

West: "Um, you're not very good at doing magic?"



13. What does your mom do for her job?

Winter: "Go to Nana's and help clean."

West: "Um, she gets money? She pays money!"



14. What is your mom's favorite food?

Winter: "Ummm, hm. Good question. I really don't know. How about...pierogies?"

West: "Um, lasagna?"



15. What makes you proud of your mom?

Winter: "That she cares and loves me."

West: "Um, proud...proud...proud...getting a new toy for me."



16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?

Winter: "Probably not the road-runner, I can tell you that! Serena's mom Ikuko (from Sailor Moon) Actually Usagi's mom. Usagi means "moon rabbit."

West: "You would be uh, Garfield or um, Nermal."



17. What do you and your mom do together?

Winter: "Watch movies, garden, cook."

West: "Um, we garden?"



18. How are you and your mom the same?

Winter: "We both have brown hair, glasses, brown eyes, and we're both tall."

West: "We both have brown eyes, we both have the same color hair (he's blond-lol!) and we like to sit together in your chair. We're not the same tall, I'm only twenty inches and you're twenty-nine inches."



19. How are you and your mom different?

Winter: "I'm ten, she's thirty-six, I mean thirty-two!"

West: "I dunno."



20. How do you know your mom loves you?

Winter: "Easy, she always says!"

West: "That's easy. You always say so!"



21. What chore does mommy not like to do?

Winter: "Do the cat litter, clean."

West: "I just want to skip this question."



22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?

Winter: "Hunh. A flower nursery."

West: "Uh, go buy a flower. I mean buy some."



23. How do you know mommy loves daddy?

Winter: "Easy, she always says!"

West: "You always say so!"

Random Tuesday Thoughts: Paddy Cake

I hate the power cord for my laptop! The stupid thing keeps falling out and I keep shoving it back in and no amount of swearing corrects the problem. I've considered making it snugger (it's a word, shut-up!) by placing aluminum foil on it like 40 gazillion times but then I remember that I'm pretending to be classier than that.

Yes, Katie is my dog. She does super cute things like hoover up dropped fruit snacks at the speed of light and crawl into pillowcases to nap, but she also does things like show me how dumb I was to push the dining room table against the back of the couch (by walking along the back of the couch and onto the table at dinnertime.) Also, she would sell me up the river in exchange for any processed meat-product in a heartbeat. Really. She is a Processed Meat Whore.

Unassembling, washing and reassembling car seats is a pain in the ass! Also, cleaning a car seat + giving your toddler chocolate ice cream in the van the very next day = STOOPID.

WTF is wrong with Culver's?! How hard is it to add the words "Custard:" and "Entree:" to their billboards? Grosses me out every time I see them...




























I am not convinced that Half Price Books saves me money. I used to think that I just bought twice as much, but yesterday I took the kids there and only allowed one book for each of us. Fifty dollars later, I'd like someone to 'splain this to me, Lucy!

The warm weather has resurrected the feral gardener in me. It is taking all of my power as we speak (as I type?) NOT to start my plants indoors. It's TOO EARLY here, even if all the seed packets and websites say otherwise.

Am I the only one who can't resist buying new cleaning products and is then shocked that they don't actually unpack and apply themselves? Because I am disappointed, every time.

I got my kids St. Patrick's Day bug-style head bands (shamrocks on top that say, "Kiss me, I'm Irish!") West, who is just learning to read out loud, said, "Kiss my...thingy?" I'm going to put green dye in my husband's beer and call it a day.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! You Sham-ROCK! (I'm so sorry, I just couldn't help myself!)

For more festive random posts visit Keely. Do it. Now. I'll wait here...

Spin Cycle: Exit, Stage Left...

In the spring of 1994, I was just shy of turning 18 and had been anorexic on-and-off for 6 years. All seniors at the Arts High were required to complete a "senior project", so in addition to academics, senior class theater rehearsal and daily out-patient treatment at the University of Minnesota, I had agreed to be in a musical directed by my dear friend David.

By that point, I had reduced my intake to 6oz of water a week, which I used to take either a box of diuretics or a box of laxatives (I alternated every other week.) I remember throwing up the blue dye from the pills and mornings spent crawling to the bathroom in order to pull myself into a hot tub , the only thing that helped the pain. My dad told me that several doctors instructed him to start choosing a casket. Nice, huh?

The day before the first performance of David's show, I had some sugar-free jello. You know, for energy. When the time came, I stepped onstage and sang and danced my heart out, until a segue halfway through the show where the cast turned it's back to the audience and sang while a video montage played overhead. To relay what happened next, I must rely on the accounts of friends and family to round out the few details that I remember:

When we lined up, I stood next to my best friend and room-mate Kristen. In that moment, I knew that I was not okay but had only a split second to think, "Oh, shit." before the world swooped around me. As I lost consciousness, I reached for Kristy and my hand slid into her back pocket before I fell off of the stage and into the orchestra, almost taking her down with me. I'm told that my mother came flying up the aisle from the audience before anyone else realised what was happening, and that she just missed catching me. As it happened, I took out the percussion section and my mother caused further destruction on her way to my side.

I remember crawling toward the lights beneath the stage and hearing my mother screaming my name. She says that she yelled for someone to call 911 as she shook me, held my face in her hands, tried to get me to respond. I remember a flash of Kristen's face as she ran alongside the gurney as the EMTs rolled me to the ambulance. I pressed her hand in mine and made her promise to sing my part for me. (Incidentally, my solo in that show began, "Can your God love me? My life of such debris, this mess of my own making?" Scarily fitting...) I remember drifting in and out while the guy EMTs discussed how I was probably just a dumb pregnant slut. (Really?! Assholes.)

At the hospital, tests showed that my white blood count was so low the doctor said that by all rights I shouldn't have survived, and my blood pressure was that of an infant's. They pumped me full of fluids via an iv before sending me home to sleep it off in my mother's bed. Someone (my mother? my boyfriend Ryan?) talked me into eating some kind of cream soup and...happily ever after.

Years later, as I reminisced with my mom and a friend that was in the audience that fateful night, I mentioned crawling under stage toward the lights. When they exchanged a look, I asked, "What?!" It was then that my mother told me what she hadn't been able to tell me at the time: namely that there were no lights under the stage. Good news, everyone! Dying doesn't hurt. Good news! I grew up, I healed, I survived.

For more survival spins, visit Jen at Sprite's Keeper.

Random Tuesday Thoughts: PBS is trying to tell me something...

I smoked my first cigarette in over three years at my mother's last night. (I know, I know! Don't start.) The thing is that by my fourth drag the migraine that I've been fighting for 3 days didn't hurt at all! Which just goes to prove that no good deed goes unpunished and only the good die young.

I made hard-boiled eggs this morning, and as I was shelling (de-shelling?) them, my daughter said, "Aw! I wanna peel them!" I told her no, I was peeling them, go eat. I then proceeded to mangle each and every one of the remaining eggs. Figures.

I have a terrible weakness for baby jade plants. I bought another one yesterday, but happily my husband cannot possibly notice the new addition nestled amidst my indoor jungle. (He doesn't read my blog, so I'm safe!)

Dear Katie,
I know that it's cold and wet outside, but if you pee in the kitchen one more time, Daddy just may punt you! He loves you, but you are roughly the size of a football, so I wouldn't chance it. (As for me, all I have to say is, "Thank you, thank you for peeing on the tile!" Sometimes good enough is good enough.)

My littlest sister just had her ultrasound yesterday and she's having a boy!!! My BFF Teressa is also expecting, so I'm having a Marisa Tomei moment or twelve. ("My biological clock is tickin' like this!") I tried to convince my husband that one more little baby really wouldn't be much trouble at all, but he said, "No! That's another 18 years of parenting!" so I said, "No it isn't! It's only an extra two years (our youngest is two), and if we kick the fourth kid out at 16, it'll work out fine!" He said that he might actually consider it if he thought for a second that I would allow that...the tables are starting to turn. Excellent.

I am totally useless today. I'm off work, and SITS is throwing it's Spring Fling (literally hundreds of giveaways, check it out!) I am hosting my first blog giveaway, too, so go enter (you know you wanna!) Is it really that wrong of me to leave PBS on all morning? Also, am I the only one that is concerned by the fact that Sesame Street could, at any time, decide to brain-wash our children and we would never know because we've been lulled into complacence by twenty-some years of award-winning programing? I'm just sayin'...

I really should figure out what day Easter is this year, hunh?

I can't find my W-4 forms, but I did find a bumper sticker that I bought myself awhile back. It says, "You're wrong for thinking I'm wrong...so that makes you wrong twice!"

Jesse and I watched a PBS documentary called Alone in the Wilderness the other night. We'd seen it once before a few years ago and it just blows my mind. Basically, in the 60's, this guy named Dick Proenneke hiked into Alaska's untouched country and built himself a log cabin. By himself. With no power tools. In ten days. Srsly. I now have absolutely no excuse for not getting things accomplished.

I had a bunch of random thoughts that I'd planned on posting as I drifted off to sleep last night, but they elude me now...for more randomy randomness, visit Keely at the UnMom!

Welcome to my SITS Spring Fling giveaway!

UPDATE! THE WINNERS ARE (drumroll, please!):

For the coveted purse set: Sassypants Wifey!

For the book/journal set: Just A Chic!

For the scrapbooking set: Dee!

(How I determined the winners: I listed all applicants, in order, for the set the applicant requested. I then added new and old followers to the appropriate list(s). Last, I hopped over to Random.org and generated a random number for each giveaway item. Voila'! Congratulations to the winners! I will be contacting each of the winners in order to get the information needed to mail the prizes out. Winners have until 10pm Friday to respond, after which I will be forced to generate a new winner.)

So here's the thing: SITS is having it's Spring Fling today! They are giving away prizes every hour, so head over there and comment on their roll call and check out the blogs of the AWESOME SITStas over there and all of their giveaways! But not yet-lol! Stay and gimme a little love first! (I am stupid excited about this, because having a giveaway makes me feel like a real blogger that knows what she's doing! If you've ever checked out my blog, you know that isn't true, but if you're willing to suspend belief so am I!)

First up, we have a beautiful set of Victoria Robert's purses! Since they have a paisley pattern, they just aren't my bag, baby...but they can be your bags!













Next we have an awesome bookish set: The new Laurell K. Hamilton hardcover Blood Noir, a black "Anything Book" journal and two sets of twelve book labels.













Last, but not least, a darling scrapbook with ten gender-neutral pages and a cute footprint kit to preserve baby's tiny toes!

























To enter my giveaway, simply leave a comment telling me why you need the set that you want. (Originality totally counts!) For a second entry, follow my blog! (If you already follow my blog a) I heart you in your face and 2) you automatically get one entry for each item.) Be sure to enter your email address into the comment form so that I can send you an email if you win! (Winners will be determined by 10am Wednesday the 11th.) Good luck!

Quotable Sunday: Kindness

Three things in human life are important. The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind. ~Henry James









My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness. ~The Dalai Lama









Kind words can be short and easy to speak but their echoes are truly endless. ~Mother Teresa

Spin Cycle: Adventures in Babysitting

Does anyone else remember this movie?! It came out in 1987, so I must have been at least 12 when I saw it (on VHS) for the first time. Yesterday's (okay, this morning's!) post had me copy-and-pasting embed codes like a mad-woman, so I can't help myself: I'm including some of my favorite scenes in this post (and then I'll stop adding a ton of video to my posts. Honest. You, however, can watch all of Adventures in Babysitting, parts 1-10, on YouTube if you wanna!) I highly recommend watching it with your favorite preteen! I remember the adolescent thrill I got when a pre-Leaving Las Vegas Elisabeth Shue cried, "Don't FUCK...with the babysitter!" Brad, his pervy friend Darrell and the cutie little girl, the boyfriend's vanity plates proclaiming him, "Soooo cool!" Thor, God of Thunder! Brenda without her glasses at the bus station mistaking a rat for a kitten?! Awesome, awesome, awesome! For more adventures, visit my pal Jen at Sprite's Keeper!

Love Thursday: I Love Lucy

I love Lucille Ball. She didn't have to be a comedienne. She was absolutely beautiful!





Unbelievably glamourous,

but chose to make us laugh! Happy (Belated) Love Thursday!

Wordless Wednesday: Hedgehog

Random Tuesday Thoughts: A Rainbow of Ineptitude

My toddler grew overnight. Srsly, he climbed into bed with me this morning and he was bigger, and definitely speaking more clearly. I need another baby, now.

You'd think I wouldn't be able to say a lot about soup (but you'd be wrong.) Last night I came home from work late feeling clammy and sickish, so I stood at the bottom of the stairs and told my husband that I was going to go straight to bed. He looked at me and said, "You haven't eaten. You need to eat first." He knows me too damn well. I agreed to a bowl of soup, mostly because I figured soup would be better than a Lean Pocket if I tossed my cookies. That guy heated up my favorite soup (Campbell's Italian Wedding) which I love for more reasons than the fact that it has the word "Italian" in it. It has spinach and little meatballs and teeny pasta thingies and I didn't even hurl-points for me! My littlest guy LOVES soup, which is a surprise because his siblings won't touch it-mostly because it's easy to make and has more than one discernable ingredient, I think.

I'm a sucky mom. I feel like hell, and kept my daughter home from school today because a) she said that her bruised arm hurts b) I was too sick to roll out of bed on time and c) I really like her and miss her when she's gone.






Whoever invented, manufactured, marketed, distributed and sold these farking Sesame Street K-nex needs to rot forever in a pit full of hellfire and damnation. My son is completely obsessed with the damn things, and screams like a mental case every time his creation falls to pieces, which is like, every 1.6 minutes. Kill me now.

Spring Hill and Breck's sent me their gardening catalogs, which is terrible because I promised myself last fall that I was only going to buy three plants this spring: this one and this one and this one. Breck's is offering 3 free Switzerland Begonias in a wooden wheelbarrow with ANY PURCHASE! Bastards. Speaking of wooden wheelbarrows, these are NEVER okay. Along with artfully arranged old rusty farming machinery and wagon wheels leaning against boulders, that shit just needs to go. Ditto for half barrels "spilling" petunias. If your landscape sports any of these things do not pass go, do not collect a hundred dollars, just get outside and burn that shit! You'll thank me later. You're welcome.

My daughter wants to type her story and my son wants to play Spore. Clearly, this supercedes my right to blog (to hear them tell it, anyway-lol!) For more randomness, visit my coolin' pal Keely at The Unmom!

Monday's Muse: My Bella Figlia

When you're raising a bunch of little artists, you tend to find lots of little drawings and notebooks full of elaborate storyboards lying around. This week, I commissioned a piece from my greatest creative inspiration-my beautiful daughter, Winter. Here is her take on my extended bloglessness, due to a computer virus and then connectivity problems (I'm so glad to be back!) Kudos to my husband and our pal Lucas for breathing life back into my pretty pink laptop-I love you guys!

For more creative inspiration, visit Monday's Muse!

Spin Cycle: Christ Chex and Ass Master

Here are two of my favorite comedians, doing two routines that make me laugh until I cry. I grew up Roman Catholic, and spent a lot of time at my Nana's opera company (can you say divas in tights and sequins, people?!) Needless to say, organized religion and gay men are part of my paradigm. Enjoy!





For more funny spins, visit Sprite's Keeper!

Wordless Wednesday: Jack Frost

Random Tuesday Thoughts: My Laptop Needs Penicillin

Computer viruses blow. More than that, backing up all your shit before wiping your hard-drive blows chunks. I'm not even supposed to be using my laptop right now, but 1-800-I-DON'T-CARE.

My dog doesn't seem to understand words like "budget" or "recession". She is refusing to eat anything but her soft food, so I hope she understands when we move into a cardboard box down by the river!

The new Jenny Crusie book Dogs and Goddesses was cute, but I really need her to write another novel without co-authors (unless she and Bob Mayer can re-create the genius of Agnes and the Hitman.)

I missed posting on Monday's Muse. I was gonna refer people to this site, because it rocks.

I have so much to do today: a mountain of laundry needs folding, my kitchen floor awaits attention from the new mop that's been languishing unused this past week, and the kids room...*shudder*

I really should put the nativity that I bought on clearance for $4.00 from Michael's away with the the rest of our Christmas stuff, although it does make the hedgehog's cage look particularly festive.

Speaking of the hedgehog, it's basically like having a pet towel. She sleeps under her towel 23 hours a day, waking only to eat, drink and search her cage in the hopes that Daddy bought her some crickets to pounce on.

Jesse and I swore that we would never be the kind of couple that called each other "Mother" or "Father" because that's just yucky. We've recently discovered that we occasionally call each other "Mama" and "Daddy" even when there are no children present. Not okay!

Walker calls Jesse, "Gaka!" We don't know why he won't say, "Daddy" (because we know he can.) The whole family is slowly reverting to "Gaka". Jesse wants a t-shirt that says, "Who's your Gaka?!"

I asked Jesse last night while washing out the garbage can why women get all the gross jobs. He said that he thinks it's because guys can carry heavy stuff. Does that even apply anymore?! It just doesn't seem fair.

The baby just threw a book at me. He said "Catch!" after it hit me. Ouch.

I need to change that stinky baby and apparently read him some stories. For more randomness, visit Keely at The UnMom. I can't wait to catch up on my blog reading tonight and leave you all lots of witty comments. Okay, frankly, that's already too much pressure. I'll comment, but I can't promise quality today, people!

Spin Cycle: A Letter To The Girl I Was

Dear Angela,

I am writing because there are some things I know that I want you to know, too. I know that you are really angry, and feel really alone. I'm not going to tell you to eat, or to stop lying, or stop shoplifting, or stop taking boxes of diuretics and laxatives. I just want you to know that everything is going to be all right.

You know all the nights that you lie awake in bed, reliving something stupid that you said or did, sure that you'll never stop feeling embarrassed and ashamed? Unfortunately, the adults are right about this one: you will not only not care, you will not remember what, specifically, made you feel like crap.

I know that you truly think that no boy will ever want you or love you. You are going to look back on all the guys you're messing with now and feel so sad, because you are going to eventually realize that even the nice guys didn't give you anything meaningful to take with you.

You're looking for Dad's approval when you seek out those guys, and you have to let that go for awhile. Eventually the two of you will make peace with each other. He'll tell you that he's always loved you, always thought you were beautiful. You will never really understand one another, but you will know that you were looking for something hidden, not lost. Someday he'll even buy you a water heater. I know that doesn't impress you now, but believe me, when the time comes it's gonna rock your world!

I also want you to know that you're right about Jesse, he IS the one. You're going to have three amazing children with him, and your kids will be the kind of people that you'd choose to be friends with, even if they weren't yours. I know what you're thinking. Chill out, because you can handle it, and more, you're going to be really, really good at being a mom. Better than anything else you've ever done. Jesse will propose to you while you lay on the couch with him, in an apartment you'll share with him, while your daughter sleeps in the next room and a son grows in your belly. You'll be watching the movie The Thirteenth Warrior. It hasn't been made yet, but it will have Antonio Banderas in it. In short, you have my permission to stalk Jesse at will.

You're going to graduate late, while you spend the summer at Nana's. Jesse is going to follow you to Milwaukee, share a flat with a guy named Johnny, and support himself by drawing basset hounds, of all things. Do me a favor and work harder at the opera company. Go out of your way to please Nana and Grandpa. You think putting Sylvester to sleep was devastating? A cakewalk compared to losing Nana and Grandpa.

Mom and Dad will lose the house. Both of the girls will live with you and Jesse at some time during their junior and senior years of high school. You'll be really, really sad when they get lives of their own. Lisa will surprise you by growing up to be an amazing woman. Natalie will surprise you with her ability to hide pieces of herself from you. They will be your best friends, so try really hard not to be jealous of them. They're jealous of you, too. Seriously.

You are going to fail. You are going to despair. There will be days when you can't remember a moment of happiness. Those days will amount to nothing in the wake of the joy that your family brings you. You will laugh in the sun and banish the dark, kid. (Trust me, it happens. I was there.)

I miss you sometimes. Your funky clothes, your big mouth, your awe-inspiring rages, your cigarettes! In fact, what I really want to tell you is, "I love you." There are days when I parent my daughter knowing that I am making things right for you, too.

I love you, love you, love you~A

(P.S. I lied: Eat something, stop lying and quit stealing and taking that shit-it's killing you. Try to love yourself, honey.)

Love Thursday: Love is...

Love is...


A 5th grade girl sharing the cookies that she bought at school with her greedy little brothers.

A mother that offers a piece of her blood orange to her 32-year-old daughter, watches her lick it experimentally, and accepts it back as if her daughter were still a toddler.

A husband that comes home with arms full of groceries fifteen minutes after his wife realized that the next morning was going to suck because they were out of milk.

A sister that drops everything on one of her few days off to watch her nephews.

A dachshund in your lap.

Making meatloaf with a five-year-old.

Laughing at an episode of The Muppet Show as a family.

Being exactly where you're meant to be.

Happpy Love Thursday!
(For more love, click here.)

Wordless Wednesday: Dreaming of Dahlias

RandomTuesday Thoughts: I'll be brilliant tomorrow.

I am seriously irritated when a Blogger's comment security asks for "word verification" and then lists nonsense like 'shiboozle' and 'goktraw'. Just say "verify characters" like everyone else, for God's sake, and quit making me doubt my intelligence. ("Is that a word? No, of course it isn't. Then again, there are a lot of words I don't know...")

Bagelfuls and Classic Coke= breakfast of champions.

The baby just wafted by. He definately needs a fanny change! I always spell "definitely" incorrectly the first time. Dammit. Hold on...(Roughly 20 baby wipes later, cleanliness has been restored. Yay, me!)

(Note to self: Clean the van and paint the bathroom already, you slacker!)

I am not looking forward to dragging the boys out with me to buy a white button-down shirt for Sissy to wear at her choir concert. I remember being disappointed when my parents weren't overly enthusiastic after my band performances. I understand why now-the whole process (from bullying your kid into something they don' wanna wear and chanting, "Hurry!
We're going to be late!" to feigning interest in every child but your own) is basically parental torture.

My husband has been at work for all of an hour and a half, and has already called home twice. Sweet. Co-dependant. Disruptive.

My neck feels weak, like my head is too big for my neck to support it. Or maybe I'm just re-healy tired. That's probably it.

(For far more interesting randomness than I'm capable of providing today, visit Keely @ the UnMom.)

Monday's Muse: Ethics and Artistic License

My sisters and I went to an arts high school. There, I met and married an artist and went on to create three beautiful children (who are also, not surprisingly, artists.) To say that I denounce censorship is quite an understatement.

The largest bedroom in our house is "the art room." It houses my husband's art desk and computer and 9, 457,943,167 art supplies (I counted.) I sew and knit and make dolls while my daughter draws incredible manga art, my boys shock family friends with their budding abilities, and my husband works as a professional illustrator in the gaming industry.

My middle sister has always been a dancer, and always loved paintings by Degas. I'm posting this image for her (I searched for-evah online to find this piece, kid!) Nudity, when done right, is beautiful art that celebrates the human body. Images that degrade and are used without a model's consent are not art. Unfortunately, my sister ran afoul of an unethical "artist".

Today my sister is my muse, the perfect example of the strength, courage, and endurance that the creative process demands. May this image bring you comfort, baby.

(For other participants in Monday's Muse thread, click here.)

Spin Cycle-Money Matters

Okay, so it's Saturday. I officially suck. In my defense, I was unable to post yesterday because I was out playing sober cab at a birthday party for one of my dearest (I won't say oldest) friends. I spent half of the night going through laptop withdrawal and wondering why the hell bars don't provide WiFi. (A sad commentary on my social life, I know.) I hadn't posted on this spin earlier in the week because money is a huge, complicated topic and I capitulate between resignation and paralyzed fear when I think about our country's (and my family's) economic state.

I have always been a "more is more" girl. I've always openly admitted that I have caviar taste and a bologny budget. That said, my main strategy for surviving lean times is, "Appreciate what you have." I don't know about you, but I have cupboards full of nice things that I don't use; occasionally I come across something I didn't even know we had. If I take the time to take really good care of all I have (clean and detail the vehicles, scrub and organize my home, take care with my clothes and my books, my yard and my plants,) I have far less time available for coveting what I don't have. Besides which, do I deserve "more" when I don't appreciate what I've been "given"? I'm thinking not so much!

I'm big on re-purposing things: posting items that we can't use on Freecycle and Craig's List, bringing used kid's clothes to Once Upon A Child and books to Half Price Books to be exchanged for cash (that will be used on new ,or "new-to-us", clothes and books. I've looked into coupon clipping sites, fascinated by the concept of double coupons and coming close to receiving money back after a grocery trip, but always feel that I'm in way over my head, like they have some kind of hive mind packed with knowledge incomprehensible to me. In the end I always fall back on something that my husband first said to me ten or more years ago, "As long as we're together, we can get through anything."

Here are a few links to help get us through the hard times:

Foxway Budgeting Plan

The Tightwad Gazette by Amy Dacyczyn

Appreciate What You Have

Money Makes The World Go 'Round

Love Thursday: A Song for West

Mama and Westie in 2004:



(A bit of the Song Evermore by Alison Krauss, from Dog Train)

Evermore songs

Wordless Wednesday: Haircuts

Random Tuesday Thoughts: "Is it just me, or is that fishbowl half full?!"

I tore a quote out of O Magazine while at bella figlia's hair appointment last night. It reads, "I dreamt--marvellous error!-- / that I had a beehive here inside my heart. / And the golden bees / were making white combs / and sweet honey / from my old failures."~Antonio Machado
I love the quote because it reminds me of The Secret Life of Bees, and the theme of the movie Meet the Robinsons, and it gives me hope that my epic failures are redeemable.

It's really fun to make pancakes with little kids (but make sure that you use the bathroom first, because it's really hard to man the grill while doing "the potty dance!")

I'm sick of customer service. I don't care how good I am at it, I don't want to spend the rest of my life telling people that they're right when they're wrong and apologizing for sh** that I have no control over. I need to find a new job. I picked a great time for that, don'cha think?!?

My mom ran to the store and offered to pick up a few things. One of the additional items that she picked up is a deodorant called Teen Spirit... get it?! Well, I think it's funny.

My cell phone is lost somewhere. I can hear it ring, but haven't worked up the motivation to go find it yet. So far, I'm okay with that.

Our goldfish really needs new water in her bowl. The kitten keeps drinking it ("Mmm-m, fish soup!"), and I keep forgetting to bring in the jug of spring water that I have out in the van. The fishy is spending a lot of time close to the water line. Let's think positively and assume that she prefers it there (rather than is gasping for oxygenated water, screaming at me in Fish.)

So in short, I need to stay positive, go to the bathroom, find a new job, keep my sense of humor, find my cell phone, and save the goldfish. I can do that.

For more randomness, visit Keely at The UnMom.

"They like me, they really like me!"

Okay, Peoples!

I'm just going to be up front and tell you that I was a theater major, and I pretty much live for applause! Srsly. It's emotional crack. Mental methamphetamine. On a bad day, applause when I walk into a room can fill my horizon with sunshine and rainbows and I just found out that there is a bloggy equivalent for it. The blog award. *insert swell of music here*



I got it from my dealer pal Ginny Marie over at Lemon Drop Pie. Isn't it beauteous? What's even better is that all I had to do to get it was yap about myself when I should've been sleeping! Dat...is awesome!

I've been instructed to share five things that I am "into" right now, so here are five things that I totally dig (other than applause, blogger awards, and recognition-induced endorphins) :

1) I know that I've mentioned this before, but honestly I cannot plug Jennifer Crusie novels enough! Especially Agnes and the Hitman.

2) Cleaning. Lately I'm taking an unreasonable amount of pleasure in doing things like scrubbing the grout on my tile floors and sterilizing my sink with bleach before scrubbing it with cleanser and then polishing it with glass cleaner. Crazy.

3) Songs that make my blood pump faster and can only be sung really loudly, like this one, and this one. Try not to judge me too harshly.

4) Sorting through old pictures, poems, letters and journals. When I look at the big picture, I can't miss how unbelievably lucky I've been and how blessed I am.

5) Chatting with long-lost friends and family members on Facebook. My sister and I even call each other up so that we can stalk our loved ones together, saying things like, "Did you see what I commented on dad's page? You've got to go look!" ("Hang on, I'm getting there!") "Hurry up! Should I just tell you?!" "No! I see it!!!" *insert gales of laughter*

I would now like to pass this award on to some of my favorite bloggers:

• Jamie Lee at Stepping Off
• Jen at Coconut Belly and finding the beauty in the breakdown
• Ana at Finding Bonggamom
• Sarah at Sarah's Blogtastic Adventures
• Casey at Half As Good As You

Reading their blogs is really a sixth thing that I'm into, so take a minute to check out their latest posts and leave a comment-you'll be glad that you did! :)

Monday's Muse: Knitty Gritty

I've been meaning to write a post on this subject for a month or more, pretty much since the snow came. In the spring and summer, I tend to channel my need to create into my gardens. With autumn comes the drudgery of fall clean-up, digging and storing tubers in preparation for the coming spring. I usually finish that just in time to handle baking and cooking for the holidays, but...when all the hoop-la dies down, my sewing machine and knitting needles begin calling to me.

I'm not a knitting guru by any means. In fact, apart from learning the garter stitch from by Nana and Auntie Mary as a kid, I learned almost everything I know by reading The Knitting Goddess by Deborah Bergman, and then gamely jumping in to try my hand at new stitch and garment patterns. I've graduated from misshapen baby blankets, to respectable baby sweaters, hats and more. This year, it's all about the dog sweaters! Honestly, it doesn't matter what I make-just holding soft, warm yarn in beautiful colors, choosing stitch patterns and color combinations that make my heart sing is enough. Transforming a skein of fiber into something that will keep someone I love warm, and allow me to send a piece of me with them when they go is enough.

Here are a few pictures of the things I've made so far this season, and a few links for anyone who wants to try their hand at my favorite cold weather pastime:

Make a Smilebox slideshow

(The two sweaters shown were made using the Wylie's Sweater pattern found online. In addition, the hounds tooth knit was made using the stitch pattern I found online here.)

Other coolin' knitter sites:
KnittingHelp.com
Knitty.com
Stitch Diva Studios
The Shizknit

Happy Knitting! :p