Obsession Waning

Last month I wrote about how I had become mildly obsessed with Entourage and was so excited for the new season to begin. Too bad it is a big yawner. Maybe it is because Vince isn't looking for work this season. Maybe it is because Turtle has a girl. Maybe it is because Drama has work. Maybe there is too much E. Maybe it isn't more of the same but less of the same instead. I don't know. It seems to have crossed the line from merely mundane (in the vein of a show about "nothing" a la Seinfeld) to really boring. So disappointing after my big build up. Oh - and in case you were wondering about the photo for today (which by the way was not the first photo when I went over to Flickr) - the tie in is that time can change your opinion about things or something philosophical like that (as philosophical as one can get about a television show, anyway).

Photo credit: sciondriver on Flickr

Zoom Zoom

So my Boy is becoming such a real little boy. He loves cars and trucks. He loves balls. He dives head first off the sofa and laughs hysterically about it. Two of his favorite toys right now are a red double-decker bus and taxi that are Matchbox-car-sized. Every car, truck, bus, motorcycle - even bicycle - that we see on the road gets a comment from the Boy. Airplanes and helicopters. Riding lawn mowers. Everything that goes. It is fun and exciting to see him developing an interest in something in such a consistent fashion. I am already contemplating a "big boy" room decorated with some kind of "things that go" theme. There are some great linens out there. Without ever really "researching" the subject I know that I love the clean graphics of the Dwell transportation set and love love love the old-school Marimekko Bo Boo that my little brother had in his room. But I guess it pays to wait and see. Who knows - by the time the Boy is ready to move to his new room he could be into the solar system or Shakespeare.

Photo credit: Martin Pettitt on Flickr

Remnant Memory

This brings back memories. The crunchy piece of carpet my dad and I carried up to my dorm on the first day of my freshman year of college which is longer ago than I care to admit right now! The smell, the creases, the weird plasticy threads that stuck out from under the binding. It was a peachy pink. Not a favorite color of mine, just less ugly than the other choices if my memory serves. I had great linens and art (I think, anyway!) for a freshman dorm room - bright colored fish duvet cover with bright sheets, Matisse's The Goldfish (so sophisticated right?). Thankfully I loved my room (it was a single) because I didn't make a ton of friends the first semester and ended up spending a TON of time in there studying. Later, once I got myself hooked into a group of people I enjoyed hanging out with, I still loved my room as a refuge. It was too small to have people over so it was really my little space. Other than camp, where bunk beds, open cubbies and zero privacy abound, this was my first time having my own place. If I had to do it all over again I wouldn't change a thing - except maybe I would have chosen a darker color carpet - in blue??

Photo credit: hectorir on Flickr

Missing

I am missing bike riding this summer. Until the past week or so the weather has been so mild - perfect for taking a leisurely bike ride. The Boy has become mildly obsessed with bicycles of late and every riding toy whether a stationary rocker or something with wheels is "my bicycle." So I feel terribly that I can't put the kid in a seat on the back (or the front - have you seen those? they seem very cool) and go out for a ride. This is the third summer in a row that I can't ride and next year will probably be the same*. Hopefully by summer 2011 (that sounds so far away!) I will be able to strap Baby Number Two into a seat on my bike and the Boy will be peddling on his own or trailing along on one of those nifty tandem attachments. Watch out neighborhood! We will be coming! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

*My OB/Gyn said Bike riding was not recommended during my pregnancies and also not recommended is children under one year old in a bike seat or bike trailer. I was pregnant in 2007, had an infant in summer 2008, I'm pregnant now and will have an infant in summer 2010.

Photo credit: John Beagle on Flickr

*STRIKE*

This makes me miss our bowling alley. Bowling is the perfect distraction in winter on a Tuesday night when you've got nothing else to do, no where else to go during a desolate beach-town winter. We used to go often when we first started dating, the Man and I. Have a few beers. Make fun of each other's "skills." Unfortunately all that is left of bowling locally for us is memories since our bowling alley is now townhouses. In February 2003 there was a blizzard. A real one. Where the whole state was shut down. And not just my state that doesn't know what to do with snow - the New Jersey Turnpike was closed too. Yes, the whole Turnpike. I remember this storm so vividly because it was also the weekend the Man and I drove four hours from our new apartment to my parents' house where all of the furniture, stuff, and things that were intended to fill up the apartment were stored. We left the day before the storm hit. We were stranded at my parents' house for two extra days because of the storm. And when we returned to our apartment we learned that one of the casualties of the storm was the bowling alley. The snow was so heavy that the roof caved in. There were outgoing messages on the bowling alley number for months that the bowling alley would be re-opening soon! Hooray! Then the building was raised and construction began on just what we needed - note sarcastic tone - more townhouses! Even if we don't have the bowling alley anymore, at least we can look back fondly at that early part of our relationship and still tease each other mercilessly about our bowling prowess. The Man still kicks my butt every time we bowl - on the Wii!

Photo credit: justephens on Flickr

Chocolatey Goodness

So sometimes cruising around the internets leads to strange coincidences. Maybe not earth shattering stuff that keeps you up at night but the kind of stuff you notice enough to say, "Hey, that is kind of weird." That is what happened with today's picture.

This is a photo of a band from Venezuela called Desorden Público playing at an outdoor music festival called Im Fluss in Basel, Switzerland*. It seems like a pretty cool festival - a big barge is moored in the Rhine and bands play out there for two weeks.

The band plays ska/reggae/rock (click here for a live stream of their music). They have been around since 1985 (that is a pretty long time for any band, right?). And like I said, they are from Venezuela.

Now for the kind of weird interconnectedness part of the web. Remember - I warned you that it wasn't an earth shaking thing - just a little weird. One of the articles that popped up in my reader today had to do with growing cacao beans in . . . Venezuela. Hey - I warned you!

But the thing is that when it first arrived in my in-box, I just skimmed the article - and even thought about not going to the full text after reading the scrib on the reader. But after I looked up the information about the band in the photo, I became more interested in the article. And I learned some stuff - cacao in Venezuela is mostly grown on plantations owned by non-Venezuelans but farmed by local (read: cheap) labor. Venezuelan cacao is known for making some of the most coveted chocolate in the world which is what keeps growers motivated to keep growing in an otherwise politically hostile environment - activists do sit-ins in fields (with machine guns), the government requires permitting and inspections out the wazoo (all for big time fees). Venezuelan cacao accounts for only 1% of the cacao grown in the world - and the output of the nation has remained constant for the past 300 years. And there is more.

So maybe I haven't found a new calling in life and my mind wasn't blown but I never would have known that stuff if I hadn't come across this random photo on Flickr. And now I am really curious about chocolate made from cacao beans grown in Venezuela! Me want to taste some!

* Thanks for the correction, knickinoptik - Basel, Switzerland not Bassel, Germany.

Photo credit: knickinoptik on Flickr

Vista

Isn't this the kind of scene you want to jump into and run around in Mary-Poppins-style? And funny enough it brings to mind another Julie Andrews' classic - the Sound of Music. OK, so maybe that isn't exactly the Alps in the background but wouldn't it still be fun to be there to spinning around in a dirndl singing "The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music" at the top of your lungs?

Photo credit: bcran on Flickr

So Where Was This A Few Hours Ago?

The perfect innocuous photo. Nondescript grass. Could be a beach or a dessert. The photo stream owner has the perfect name for what I am writing about lately: Banalities. The photo title "Formentera" did peak my interest though so a-googling I a-went.

This place is GORGEOUS! This dour photo over here on the right doesn't even begin . . . .

One of the websites I found says Formentera is, "one of the last outposts of paradise in the Mediterranean." According to Wikipedia, Formentera "It is known for its many pristine beaches and the fact that nude sunbathing is allowed on most of its beaches. Also, Formentera hosted the 2007 Techno 293 OD World Championships in windsurfing for juniors under 15 and youths under 17.

Fascinating. It sounds wonderful. Once again, I drool at vacations lost!

Photo credit: Banalities on Flickr

No Photo Day

Everytime I have tried to get a photo for today's post Flickr has presented me with a shot of someone's wedding or someone's kid. For some reason it does not seem appropriate to me to write about such intimate things when I have no context for the subject of the photo. I am not saying I will always "reject" a photo that has an intimate or personal subject, but somedays it just doesn't feel right. So this is just a rambling post that once again touches on the oh-so-boring subject I always seem to return to (yet have no expertise or authority in): what is proper to blog about. Yawn.

I just felt like writing today despite the fact that I have nothing in particular to write about. There is some craziness going on with my family today (which I will not write about here) so maybe that is why I feel like I need an outlet of some kind? Also, I do not feel like working (not that that is particular to *today* especially!). Too bad I couldn't wait for a picture that I felt was "safe" to write about. Maybe I will try again later if I still feel like writing.

Obsessed

This post has no relevance to today's picture. Frankly, it didn't really matter what popped up on Flickr today because I need to let it out to the world that I am obsessed with the show Entourage on HBO. We didn't always have HBO so by the time we did get it many of the highly acclaimed* series on that station were so deep into their runs that we never watched them on television but rather only on DVD (hooray for Netflix!). So we watched Entourage on DVD through the fourth season. And I pushed my dear Man-o-mine to watch, watch, watch as much as he could stand because I couldn't get enough of the show. I don't even know what it is. I don't have a crush on any of the characters. I have not been particularly engrossed in any of the plot lines, relationships of the characters. It is, I think, the whole package. It is a thirty minute escape into someone else's (albeit rather fancy schmancy) mundane world. Because really - how many times have I seen these guys sitting down to breakfast, a post hook-up debriefing, looking for work, looking for love. Is it that different from what most people do other than the setting? No. But I am compelled to watch. The new season started Monday and I set up the DVR to record. We didn't get to watch until last night. It wasn't a great episode. Not much happened to establish move any story line along. No major players seem to have been introduced that we haven't met before. But I watched it twice. I think about the show when I have trouble falling asleep. I think about the show when I am driving home from work. When I am bored my mind wanders to the show. I wonder what this is all about? Only five days until the next new episode . . . .

*I don't know if Entourage was highly acclaimed or not but it always looked like a good time when I would see previews.

Photo credit: Михал Орела on Flickr

A Fine Mess You've Gotten Us Into

Every camp mess hall must look exactly the same. I was convinced when I first glimpsed this photo that it HAD to be my old camp. The big mob of campers on the right. The bug juice on the end of the table. The delicious looking food on display. Mess halls have a . . . distinctive smell: old dishwater, over scrubbed stainless steel, bug juice (yes - the bug juice is a recurring theme!), fryer oil due for a change. Kind of yucky - yes. Worth all the other great parts of camp - yes. My first sleep away camp had such a questionable mess hall that it was the reason I became a vegetarian for twelve years. Two surprise health inspector visits. Two cancellations of taco night. One camper who decided she could survive on cereal, salad, and PB&J for the rest of the summer! I know I am abusing the exclamation point in this post but I loved camp - weired smells and risky food all the same.

Photo credit: fujimatt on Flickr

Ugly Duckling

I always loved the story of the Ugly Duckling. I think I identified with the poor little thing. I don't think I was an ugly kid but I think I was something of an outsider. The poor little cygnet. Trying so hard to fit in but never really succeeding. Sometimes I still feel like I am waiting for the day of the transformation - when I will figure out that I have been in the wrong place, doing the wrong things, all this time. And other times I feel gorgeous and glorious - floating across the water with my head held high.

Photo credit: Anyaka on Flickr

Riding, Riding . . . La La La La La La

I used to ride. For fun. For exercise. For a personal challenge. A few years after law school I had a crisis of confidence in the choices I had made up to that point in my life. So I challenged myself to do something that would be - for me - really crazy and out of character and see it through to the end. And I did sort of. I decided to train for the Boston-to-New York AIDS Ride.* Yes, I decided to train to ride my bike (which I didn't have until after I decided to do the ride) over 200 miles (and fund-raise an insane amount of money for someone who hates to ask for favors - I think it was $2500 minimum to participate and that was 10 years ago). All the necessary money was raised. I trained as best as I could considering that along the way (1) my bike was stolen out of my car** and (2) I was in a car accident that put me out of commission for a few critical training weeks. I did the ride as best as I was able despite the fact that there was a huge hurricane that required cancelling the first day of the ride. I wore enormous but cool hot pink feathered wings I made on my helmet. I talked to complete strangers. It was a big deal to me to have done these things. I developed the courage to leave my job and try some new things.*** I am not saying that I ended up happier on the other side but when I have doubts about my abilities to accomplish things, I look back and remind myself that I did (for all intents and purposes) succeed in completing a major personal challenge that not even I thought I could accomplish

* I do not think this event, or the organization that sponsored it, even exists anymore but it was similar to the Avon 3-Day Breast Cancer Walk, except on bikes.

** Funny story - I never ever ever stored my bike in my car overnight but I was plannng to invest in a nice roof rack/bike carrier. I was going to get the rack put on the next day. So I decided to put in the car the night before because I wanted the installer to show me how to put the bike on the car after he installed the rack and I didn't want to get dirty before work jamming the bike in the back of my VW Golf. The rack money was used to buy a new bike - which was never left in the car again.

*** The universe was conspiring against me in part. I took some time off and goofed around at the beach (where I incidentally met my now-husband). When I decided it was time to try getting my act together again, I moved back to New York to look for a job in the city. My return date was September 7, 2001. By the middle of that week, my prospects for work in NY were looking pretty bleak.

Photo credit: k.steudel on Flickr

If The Sun Refused To Shine

Well it isn't refusing to shine today - it is glorious out today. But if the sun did refuse to shine today it wouldn't really matter. I am full of sunshine today. I feel full of light - I am aglow. I am feeling so full of joy right now - my heart feels enormous (flash to images of the Grinch's heart growing three times in size*). It is Friday. I am working close to home. I just got some very good news that I do not feel like sharing.** I treated myself to some yummy yarn that has been haunting me for weeks.*** I found a fun and easy pattern to make something.**** So the long and the short of it is that I feel pretty good today. And I am liking it!

* I really cannot find a video clip of just the heart growing scene from How the Grinch Stole Christmas on youtube.com. I am shocked.

** See earlier posts about on my thoughts about what to share and what to keep to yourself here, here, here, and here.

*** Thanks again for all your help, Allison!

**** For myself! I feel so selfish when I knit for myself but not guilty enough to not do it. This will only be the fourth thing that I will have made for myself in four years!

Photo credit: zoetnet on Flickr

Out of the Clear Blue Sky

The sky looks like this today. Clear. Virtually cloudless. You can see that it is warm but not too humid. Perfect. You want to lie on the beach on a day like this with the breeze blowing off the ocean, tickling your skin and curling up the edges of your towel. It reminds you of being a kid on vacation. There would be a cooler filled with sandwiches - the bread getting soggy because you packed them so early this morning. There would be peaches and plums in that cooler too and their juice would run down your chin with every bite you took. And when you went to lick the juice off your chin you would taste the salt that the air has lifted from the ocean and deposited on you. You would take long walks looking for shells, the cool waves lapping at your feet as you sink into the wet sand with every step. A nap would be in order after that followed by a cold can of soda wrapped in tin foil. Pack everything up and head back to the house after you build a big sand castle and rinse everything off in the water. Wait your turn for a shower - but you don't mind because it feels lovely to sit on the porch and read a few chapters of your book. You know you are going to sleep well tonight.

Photo credit: RichardBarley on Flickr

Reflection

I have stayed up late the past two nights. Like silly late - 2AM and 12:30AM. As detestable as the impact this has on me the next morning (can you say, "zombie" boys and girls?), the deliciousness of being alone to knit and have complete control of the remote is too sweet to pass up.

When I was single I would stay up really late for no reason. I lived by myself so I wasn't avoiding roommates. I think I enjoy being up late for the same reasons I love playing hooky. The day off you have when you ditch out school or work is so much more decadent and luscious than your regular weekend. Being up after midnight on a weeknight is the same - so illicit even if you are just curled up in old sweats watching an Entourage rerun.

Perhaps a night off from nights up tonight. I need to recharge my battery a bit. I'm making good progress on my knitting though . . . . I guess we will see.

Photo credit: A6U571N on Flickr

Green Dreams

I dream (well maybe that is a bit of hyperbole) of being able to garden. We bought our house two and a half years ago - and moved in right before the end of the year so it wasn't exactly gardening time. I was so looking forward to spring - getting out in the garden, moving things around, trimming trees and shrubs, even weeding. Then I found out I was pregnant so no heavy work for me. Then last year, I had this little baby who never napped. When was I supposed to find the time to garden. Okay - maybe this year? Well guess what - knocked up again! I am sure my neighbors hate us. The front yard is a hot mess. There is one tree limb that is so long is touches the ground. We have dead White Pines in the back yard - still with the stakes the tree wench* put in when they were planted over two years ago. The back yard is a mess - poor little boy can hardly go out to play back there. Between the dead stuff, the over grown trees, mulching debris along the perimeter of the yard, sticks, black walnut shells and dog poop we are a mess! Part of the problem is that I work 5 days a week and my husband works 6 days a week and we have no days off together. Another problem is that the Boy still doesn't really nap for long enough stretches to get anything done. Yet another problem is that the Boy is in a very adventurous phase - he needs to be watched at all times so a yard full of hazards is not an ideal place to let him run free. And then there are the mosquitoes who love to eat me up - they come out around 3:30 every afternoon until dark so no after work gardening for me. And the sun - even if the Boy did nap on the weekends for a big chunk of the afternoon the sun in the front of my house is so strong that the door knob on the front door will leave a blister on your palm if you touch it with a bare hand between noon and three in the afternoon. Maybe next year . . . .

*Another story for another day.

Photo credit: CHRISJAZ

According to wikipedia.com:

The term "lemur" is derived from the Latin word lemures, meaning "spirits of the night" or "ghosts". This likely refers to their large, reflective eyes and the wailing cries of some species.

Lemurs are not that interesting, at least not on wikipedia. The most interesting thing that I learned today about lemurs is that they tend to have a female dominated culture which is unusual in mammilian species. The description provided by wikipedia sounds, however, strikingly like most dates and marriages I am familiar with:

where this occurs, adult males exhibit submissive behavior to adult females in social settings, such as feeding, grooming, and sleeping site priority.

Think about it. In most households, who decides what is for dinner? Who spends more time in the bathroom getting ready? And how much of an ass does your man have to be for you to end up on the floor while he sleeps on the couch when you go visit an old friend from high school?

Maybe lemurs seem kind of boring because they are kind of like us.

Photo credit: Robert Zolkos on Flickr

When Words Escape You . . .

Photo title: Oscar Swartz in front of photographic art by Andreas Kock

Seriously, what could I possible add to that? Except that at first glance I thought the photo in the photo was an Afghan hound wearing sunglasses.

That's all I've got. Really.

Photo credit: texplorer

Throw Me To the Lions

So I haven't been here in quite some time. Life has a tendency to sneak in and interrupt the things we actually enjoy doing. Hopefully I will be able to resume my posting on a more regular basis. One of the reasons I stopped writing was that I was starting to feel like all I did was complain and I do not like being that person. One of the reasons for my return today is that Holly has been poking me with a stick for the past few weeks telling me to start writing again. And she "tagged" me with one of those "meme" things.

8x8

8 THINGS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO

- seeing the Boy later

- seeing my husband

- leaving the office at the end of the day

- spending the weekend with my parents, brother, SIL, etc.

- making it to the beach this summer

- getting rid of this cough/cold/nasty sick thing

- finishing this list

- sleep

8 THINGS I DID YESTERDAY

- knit a baby hat

- went to the playground for over an hour

- ate crabs

- took a long walk

- felt guilty while I listened to the Boy cry and moan all through "nap" time

- dreaded the fact that the next day was Monday

- coughed

- laundry

8 THINGS I WISH I COULD DO

- win the lottery

- get my act together

- walk out of work and never look back

- be better at filling out these lists

- be a stay at home mom

- find time for a pedicure

- live closer to my parents

- be better at making friends

8 SHOWS I WATCH

- Project Runway

- America's Next Top Model

- CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

- Myth Busters

- The Fashion Show

- Big Love

- Entourage

- Weeds

8 FAVORITE FOODS

- good bread

- pasta

- sushi

- potato chips

- pizza

- a good burger

- fruit

- cheese

8 PLACES I HAVE TRAVELLED

- Maine

- Cabo San Lucas

- Israel

- Italy

- Germany

- Massachusetts

- St. John, USVI

- Puerto Rico

8 PLACES I WOULD LIKE TO TRAVEL

- Greece

- Arizona

- Grand Canyon

- Virgin Gorda

- Canada

- Russia

- Japan

- Thailand

8 PEOPLE I TAG

- if you are reading this, consider yourself tagged

Photo credit: flyone on Flickr

First Impressions (Day Sixtyone, Paragraph 67)

When I saw this photo, I thought, "That looks like a CLE*." The expressions on everyone's faces are all looks I've seen on faces at CLEs before(from left to right starting with the guy in the plaid shirt):

PLAID SHIRT GUY: I knew I should have brought the New York Times Saturday puzzle instead of the TV Guide puzzle . . . what am I going to do for the next three hours?

BLONDE WOMAN (just behind the guy in the tie): If I put my hand on my chin - like this - and squint my eyes just so and open my mouth as if I am just about to breathlessly say, "Wow, your Honor, that is the most fascinating thing I've ever heard" maybe my Motion for Summary Judgment will be granted on the papers and I won't have to do oral argument next Tuesday morning . . . ."

TIE GUY: I'm going to chuckle at all the appropriate places in this presentation. Everyone needs to be reminded of how clever I am.

ARGYLE-GLASSES GUY: Is my facial hair holding me back professionally?

BLONDE GIRL: This dude is totally trying to see down my shirt. Ewwww. Does my hair look okay?

BEARD GUY: Is that the chick from first year contracts over there? Is it? Dude, I have to poop. God she looks awful.

MR. BIG COLLAR: Oh yeah. You want me girl. You know you do. Stop being coy. I see that look in your eyes. Don't deny it. Everyone can see it.

MS. BANGS: Ugh. I'd rather be at the office. Wow. Too much cleavage, today I guess. Oh well. No one is looking at me anyway.

SLEEPING WOMAN: ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

BLUE SHIRT: Hey! Someone's taking a picture! Why is someone taking a picture at a CLE? Who even brings a camera to a CLE? Where is that waitress with more coffee? Wait, is this my good side?

TAN SUIT: I have to pee but the door is so far away everyone is going to watch me go pee why did I sit so far from the door I have to pee but th edoor is so far away . . .

BLONDE SLEEPER: Must stay awake. Must stay awake. Must stay awake.

And yes, this really is a CLE class. Sometimes the first impression is right on.

*CLE is Continuing Legal Education; most states require that lawyers take a minimum number of credit hours every year or two years to assist in staying current with new developments in the law.

Photo credit: Jesse Michael Nix on Flickr

I Want To Go To There* (Day Sixty, Paragraph 56)

Doesn't that look heavenly? Instead of heavenly, I was going to say sublime but that seemed too corny once I really looked at the name of the photographer for this shot. That got me thinking about the word sublime. It doesn't take much to get my train of thought derailed. So I'm looking up the meaning of sublime. And I'm researching the origins of sublime. But it doesn't really matter what sublime means, or even where it came from, does it? The point is that this was supposed to be a post about how much I am jonesing for tranquil turquoise waters and white sand but my brain just won't focus on that for long enough for me to write something decent and engaging about that. And I think I have recently bemoaned my failure to vacation so I should really hold off on whining about that for a least a month or two. So anyway, I guess what I'm getting at here is that my brain does not process information in a straight line. I generally end up putting on a fairly polished and organized front when in reality I am down a rabbit hole somewhere thinking about whether or not a word means under a citrus fruit.

*Thank you, Liz Lemon, for the title of this post.**

** Thank you, Jenelle, for the asterisk idea.

Photo credit: sub_lime79 on Flickr

Doggy, Daddy, Potty (Day Fiftynine, Paragraph 53, 54 & 55)

Poor Maggie.* The Boy has become obsessed with the dog. He runs around the house yelling, "Doggy! Doggy! Doggy!" Maggie runs around the house looking for places to hide. The only real problem is that the Boy's "doggy" sounds very similar to his "Daddy" which sounds very much like his "potty" as well. This has made it tough to figure out what exactly we're talking about but the past few days it has been getting a little easier to figure out what is going on.

"Doggy" will generally be accompanied by a little bit of running about searching out/chasing the dog and then a sprint that ends in a schreeeeeeeeeeching halt just before the Boy hits Maggie's invisible force field followed by big grin and a chorus of "dee-dee-dee-dee-dee!" (that is the Boy singing and grinning; the dog is looking terrified by now!). Before the rapture takes over and the Boy tries to penetrate the demilitarized zone, I go over to show him the right way to approach the doggy-doggy-doggy and how to pet her with "nice hands."

"Potty" is something the Boy will say when he sees someone headed to the powder room or if he hears a toilet flushing and I think maybe (just maybe) he may say it sometimes when he is relieving himself (how cool is that - I may not being changing his diaper until he is 10 years old!); "potty" is also generally accompanied by the sign as well - so if you are paying attention this one isn't too tough to pick-up on.

"Daddy." Well the "daddy" has been a little rough because the Man is away on a little guys trip for a week. It has been a tough few days for the Boy. He clearly is aware that something is not quite right but he seems to be adapting to the Man not being around. The worst of it was when I ran the vacuum the other night - the Man's job - the Boy was just beside himself looking for his "dah-dee?" Heartbreaking. We will both be glad to have the Man return home - tomorrow night! Hooray!

*Just so we are all clear, this is not a photo of Maggie but this is a very sweet looking puppy!

Photo credit: Threasa Solomon Photography on Flickr

(Day Fiftyeight, Paragraph 52)

Am I an art critic? No. Am I an expert in photography? No. Can I take a decent picture? No. Do I know what I like when I see it? Yes. This photo here to the right is pretty interesting once you stop caring what it may or may not depict. The yellow lights reflecting off the water perfectly mirror the boat*, pole*, and white light in the bottom left corner of the shot. So even though the subject matter is not immediately apparent, there is a symmetry about the photo that is visually pleasing. The lights reflecting off the water create a warm, golden palette. Imagine the image in a large gilt frame at the end of a hallway - it would seem like you could keep walking right into the picture until you reached the water's edge. Lovely.

*If you are curious about what is depicted in this photo, maybe a little detective work in the related set of pictures will help reveal what it is. I'm thinking a bamboo oar on a row boat in India. What do you think it is?

Photo credit: Dainis Matisons on Flickr

Hot-cha-cha-cha (Day Fiftyseven, Paragraph 49, 50 & 51)

I was so hot! I was on such a roll! I was doing so well! What a big shot I thought I was! Writing a paragraph everyday is easy - no problem - heck some days I can even write TWO without even trying! Well I guess I am in a bit of a slump seeing as how I am about a week behind in posts. Which makes this a good time to review how this blog is working for me. Also, we are coming up on the two month anniversary (that makes it sound so important, doesn't it - anniversary!) of the beginning of this whole endeavor.

Is it doing what I want it to do? Am I doing what I want to with it? Am I writing everyday? What can I change to make this better? Obviously, if you are out there, dear reader(s) [HI HOLLY!!!!] please comment on these questions as well as any other thoughts you have about this blog.

For me, for right now, I think that I am letting my life get in the way of the objectives of this blog. I do not have the chance to write the way I really want to (well constructed, fully thought out paragraphs with hopefully no spelling or grammar errors) because I like to write at work and I have to, well, work at work so that is something of an impediment to my writing! I think the format works pretty well - ever changing source material with no limits on how that material is handled. I need to figure out how to write more. Maybe I need to suck it up and sit in front of the computer at night even though I sit in front of the computer all day. Or maybe I need to put a time limit on creating a post. And I could designate a certain time of day to pull off the Flickr shot and write. That could be my designated "mental health" time - like a smoke break for my brain. I need to think about this a bit . . .

Regardless, I do not want this blog to become a chore. I want it to be fresh and fun for me and for anyone who is out there reading it [HI AGAIN HOLLY!]. I also do not want it to become like working out - something that I enjoy when it is a regular part of my life but which also causes stress when I need to figure out how to fit it back in. I don't want this brain exercising to fall by the wayside.

Photo credit: ChrisGoldNY on Flickr

Snap, Crackle, Pop (Day Fiftyone, Paragraphs 47& 48)

There was a "huge" and "crippling" snow storm in my state yesterday. The kind where roads - even major thoroughfares - don't get cleared by the next morning's commute time. The kind where schools are closed for the second day in a row. Pretty serious, right? The snow fall total is under six inches. Pathetic.

Thunderstorms are more par for the course here. And where I live - near the ocean - the storms are dramatic. One side of the street is clear and sunny, but turn to the other side and it looks like night. The lightening lights up the sky like it is day - for just a quick blink-and-you-will-miss-it moment. BOOM. The storms are exciting - you can feel the front come in - one second you are drenched in sweat, struggling to breath in the fetid air and the next you are chilled, breathing in the coolness. BOOM. Electric. BOOM. Rain fills the sky and then the humidity returns . . .


Photo credit: R.P. Piper on Flickr

Old Girl (Day Fortynine, Paragraphs 44, 45 & 46)

Guilty is how I feel most days and annoyed is how I feel most of the other days and nostaligic probably rounds out the group. My old girl Maggie and me have been through so much together. Relationships (good, bad, short, long). Moving (often). Single party girl (whoo hoo). Marriage (still holding!). The "second dog" experiment (failure!). Children (well, child anyway). Always content to be where ever I set her bed down but always a bit of a needler. She was a terror as a puppy but mellowed out as she got older - to the point where I took her to the vet when she was three because I was concerned that she was sick; the vet said, no - she was just three.

She turned 13 this past Valentine's Day. Her black coat is flecked with white. She has a mask of grey around her eyes. Her fatty tumor sways to and fro like a breast augmentation gone awry. She is underfoot when you don't want her around and absent when you wouldn't mind seeing her. She stops on the stairs for a big morning stretch as I'm racing down to get to work. She sheds like crazy. She has weird lumps all over her body. She smells. She won't let me trim her nails. She does not cuddle. She behaves like a cat - affection and attention are on her terms only. Her aloofness has increased a thousand-fold in the last few years to the point that I barely am permitted to pet her.

But she is still my dog. She is still my responsibility. She is still my first dog - ever. I will always remember her as a tiny pup with gigantic ears that didn't grow - they are still the same size now as they were when she was bitty. I know she isn't gone but she isn't the same dog now as she was even a few years ago so when I think of her it is with nostalgia. Maggie will always hold a special place in my heart. My first dog. I will always love her.

Photo credit: tedmurphy on Flickr

Learn Something New Everyday (Day Fortyseven, Paragraphs 42 & 43)

Cool - an engine that looks like a flower! Woohoo - what the heck am I going to write about that. Turns out, though, that the caption to today's photo on Flickr was like a mini-lesson on the engine. I just thought it was cool looking. But it is more than just pretty. It is Innovation and Invention realized.

The engine was designed to be lighter thereby making planes faster. This engine was in the Sopwith F.1 Camel , the plane of everyone's favorite World War One flying ace - SNOOPY! Of course, Snoopy's plane was really his dog house, but no one really cared. Believing in Snoopy's imagined adventures is a much stronger instinct than shooting them down.* Imagination is where Innovation and Invention are born (maybe Necessity is the other parent in that equation?). Do we (that is a collective "we" as humans) do enough to encourage Imagination? I say, "No, we don't." Do we do enough to encourage Innovation and Invention? I say, "No, we don't." Do we stifle our natural inclination to let imaginations soar?* I say, "Yes. Yes, we do." Even if you are too jaded to let your own mind go, open yourself up to someone else's inner Snoopy - let him fly or at the very least, don't try to ground him. You never know what you might learn.

* Pun: optional

Photo credit: cliff1066 on Flickr

(Day Fortysix, Paragraphs 40 & 41)

I opened the Flickr page and started crying. Most of the nonsense on Flickr makes me roll my eyes, not dab at them madly with a tissue. Both the strength of this image and the surprise of something so moving was a shock. We've all witnessed a scene in a public park where the pigeons are swarming, clucking, flapping, vying for position near the food - so much chaos. This image captures that chaos, yet there is a stillness here too. As if the birds are lined up, waiting their turns. As if they have been invited to join this man for lunch and they know they will get some so long as they are patient. As intent as this man seems in eating his lunch, he doesn't look like he minds sharing. Even if he is sharing with pigeons.

I have never been a big fan of pigeons - regardless of how patient they are. I have become more tolerant of pigeons largely because of Mo Willems. I haven't read all of his books, but he has written about the pigeon going to bed, driving the bus, having feelings, and a whole host of other things - including hot dogs. I do not think, though, that he has answered this question: Do pigeons eat bananas?

Photo credit: pedrosimoes7 on Flickr

Drained (Day Thirtynine, Paragraph 39)

I don't really feel like I need to write more than one word to describe how I've been feeling lately: drained. I am worn out. I need some time to myself. I need to feel some more financial and job security (not gonna happen). I. I. I. I. I. Yes, this time it is all about me. Or what is left. I go through the motions every day. My favorite time of the day lately is when I get to knit for an hour or so at night while my husband snores on the couch. Other than the shower and my commute, that is the only time I really have to myself. I'm not sure what to do. I don't have many girlfriends. My primary hobby is shopping and like everyone else, I really can't indulge. A new knitting store is opening in my town and the owner is doing an open evening for coffee and knitting. I should try to do that sometimes. But it is difficult to do something that intentionally takes me away from the Boy. I will figure out the balance eventually. But for now, I feel like a raisin that wishes it was still a grape.

Photo credit: weexpectedthis on Flickr

The Devil Is Among Us (Day Thirtynine, Paragraph 38)

We have, as my husband so perfectly expressed last night, worked very hard to create an "Elmo-free" environment* for our son.

Well, in yesterday's mail, addressed to the Boy was a talking Valentine's card** from his Granny featuring none other than . . . Elmo. We weren't too concerned: the Boy had never been exposed to Elmo before so this "blip" wouldn't have much impact on his delicate psyche, right? Upon seeing the fuzzy red creature and hearing that helium-filled voice the Boy exclaimed, "MELMO!" as if they were old friends. We parents were stunned - stopped dead in our tracks. How had this red devil infused himself into our sweet boy's brain? How could this be? We were so careful.

Getting ready for bed, I decided to do a little test. Maybe the "MELMO" outburst was a fluke - like a little Myna bird mimicking what it hears. I held up a clean diaper which is obnoxiously tattooed with depictions of our furry Satan. "Who is this?" I asked, teeth gritted. "MELMO, MELMO, MELMO, MELMO!" came the enthusiastic response.***

We have officially entered the Eighth Circle of Hell.

*I am not counting licensed character diapers. Sensitive skin has prevented us from using diapers that do NOT depict our nemesis (and his friends) in some form.

** And seriously, U.S. Postal Service - what was the deal with EVERY Valentine card from grandparents arriving at our house POSTAGE DUE.

*** Investigation into the source of this foul affliction is ongoing.

Admission: this post is not within the usual format of this blog but the story was too good not to share and besides, I behind a day and need to make up the deficit somehow!

(Day Thirtyseven, Paragraph 37)

I haven't been on an airplane since January 2006. Airplanes have a distinctive smell that I can recall in my minds nose. The windows have a particular feel as does the upholstery of the seats and the nap of the covers on those teeny-tiny pillows (do they even have those on planes anymore? do they cost an extra $900?). None of these things are very glamorous but they are all associated - for me anyway - with going on vacation. And I haven't been on vacation since January 2006. Maybe that isn't so crazy but seriously - three years is a long time to not go anywhere for more than an over-night (once to D.C. for a concert and once to Virginia for a wedding - both more than two years ago). Part of it is money. Part of it is the Boy and not wanting to be away from him. Part of it is hoarding vacation time for a hopeful second baby maternity leave. My husband is supposed to go away for a few days next month on a guy's trip and I can tell you that I am insanely jealous but I'm just not ready yet.

Photo credit: bonus1up on Flickr

Monkey Boy (Day Thirtysix, Paragraph 36)

The Boy is really becoming a climber of sorts. I fear that soon I will have to make sure that every piece of furniture that has even a remote chance of tipping is anchored to the wall. Not to mention our new ginormous TV. I guess it isn't really as big as big could be but compared to what we had it is huge. The Boy has been climbing the ladder to the slide at the park. He climbs on stacks of pillows to get to onto the couch. He tries to climb up into the corners of the bathtub or over the edge (as an aside, I always wonder where he thinks he will get to by climbing out of the tub - I am right there, the bathroom door is closed, and the whole bathroom is as big as a minute. Maybe it seems like a big adventure when you are under three feet tall. I don't know.) Next will probably climbing out of the crib - I do not look forward to hearing that "thud" for the first time!

Photo credit: Tony Crider on Flickr

"Most of the time is was probably real bad . . . " (Day Thirtythree, Paragraph 35)

. . . being stuck down in a dungeon. But some days, when there was a bad storm outside, you'd look out your little window and think, 'Boy, I'm glad I'm not out in that.'" - Jack Handy (SNL)

How is this for an overwrought metaphor: work is the dungeon (as portrayed in some overly dramatic Medieval movie) and the economy is a bad storm outside. Sure, I am being dramatic - especially in these economic times when so many find out every day that they no longer have work to go to. So inasmuch as I am grateful to have a job to go to I really really really don't like my job. As I've alluded to before, I am "out" in terms of the social scene here - and granted, work is for work and not for play but a huge part of liking your job is the people you work with. I don't really care for what I do for a living and I never really had. A few years ago I took off about a year to see if there was something else that maybe I would rather do but my timing was off and there weren't many open jobs around back then either (it was late 2001 - not a great time to be looking for work in down town New York City) so I ended up where I had started by default not because I found out that I was doing the right thing for me. Now I have a kid and a house with a huge mortgage. I no longer have the luxury of taking time off to explore. So I drag my butt to work everyday and wait and wait for the weekend to come. Every Sunday I have to force myself to not cry - especially when I think about how awesome the time I'm spending with the Boy is and how four other days during the week I have to drop him off at day care. OK - that's it. I have to go because I'm going to cry. And I can't cry here. Crying is not allowed in the dungeon.

Photo credit: steve p2008 on Flickr

Downs and Ups (Day Thirtytwo, Paragraphs 32 & 34)*

Bodhi is gone. Beautiful Baby M is here! This is not Bodhi in the photo. This is not Beautiful Baby M in the photo. They aren't even connected in life through any means but me.

Bodhi was the canine love of my dear friend, Liz. He was diagnosed with lymphoma and had large and numerous masses in his lungs and abdomen. Within a few hours of the diagnosis, Bodhi asked Liz to let him go. [it was his time and he decisively told me so. I wont go into details but if anyone says you wont know when its time, you will. Believe me and trust your gut you will know and they will tell you and you will not doubt it and through your tears you will urgently say "its now, we have to go now"]** I know it was one of the hardest things she has ever had to do. She wrote a beautiful tribute to her boy [I knew we were in trouble. This wasn[']t "I stole too much butter" not eating. This was serious.]. He was a special, goofy, loving dog [- and when we gave him the shot, I told him to go find Dante (his buddy) and then he threw his head back and howled - and I mean HOWLED like we would always "sing" in the car anywhere we went or in my house- you could aroo and he would sing along..... anytime I "arooo'd" he would start in and even match my pitch . . . I just knew it was my boy saying he was ok. "we always sing together like this" I said, and I wasn't just saying that. I knew he was talking to me. His last breath was his singing. It was Bodhi. There was no other way he would have gone.].

At about the same time on very the same day, my friend Holly's baby was being born. Holly and her husband are in the process of adopting a girl. They have been through so much to arrive at this point (read about their journey here). They are the most resilient, level headed, practical people. As far as I know, they are on the way right now to meet their daughter who the nurses have dubbed "Baby Beautiful" pending the parents' (Holly and her husband are parents!!!!!) final decision about the name.

With a heavy heart, I bid farewell to Bodhi Odhi Oh. With a heart full of joy, I say welcome to the world Baby Beautiful. You both are loved.

* This was not the first photo on the Creative Commons page but today's content required a relevant photo. Also, the dog pictured here is not the same breed as Bodhi but he looks pretty darn close!

** Italicized text are excerpts from Liz's eulogy to Bodhi.

Photo credit: Dan Harrelson on Flickr

Orange You Glad (Day Thirtyone, Paragraph 31)

My mother-in-law sent us a case of oranges and grapefruits from Florida - after we told her not to spend the money and besides, we don't even eat grapefruit. So they arrived Monday. I've been trying to figure out what to do with a case of citrus fruit but haven't had much luck in coming up with ideas other than eat it or anthropomorphize it or play with it or maybe learn to juggle. Citrus is tough. Apples, pears, berries - even bananas - are easy to imagineer into tarts, pies, breads, muffins without much effort. It is difficult to use citrus in baked good beyond the zest. Zesting, though, only solves part of my problem because then the protective skin is scraped away leaving an even more fragile and exposed fruity flesh that I can't even juggle with. Maybe my thinking is too narrow - I should do a quick search for for recipes with orange. OK, I'm back - Sunkist has a whole section of its website dedicated to citrus containing recipes. See now why didn't Cinnamon Nachos with Yogurt Cheese and Ginger-Citrus Salsa pop right into my head when I was brain storming? or the Dilly Orange Scramble? I guess I will just eat the dang things. At least I won't get scurvy and maybe I will finally learn how to juggle.

Photo credit: on Flickr psd

Spring (Day Thirty, Paragraph 30)

In the last week Mother Nature has both taken away and given freely. First the Groundhog saw his shadow bringing the promise of six more weeks of winter. The week also brought nasty snow and freezing temperatures that reinforced Puxatawney Phil's prediction making it seem more like a threat than a promise. Then this weekend the sun was shining and temperatures were in the high 50s - walking with the Boy, swinging and sliding at the playground - no jackets required. Winter is far from over though. So was this weekend's weather a cruel tease or a sweet, delicate taste of what is to come in the next few months? Let us be positive today and say that the little glimpse of spring was a joyful reminder of the fun we will have as we leave Old Man Winter behind and welcome the loamy smells of Spring.

Photo credit: acane_s on Flickr

HOT Dog! (Day Twentysix, Paragraph 29)

This picture is awesome. First the subject matter is great - two of my favorite things: hot dogs and 30 Rock. Then - a costume party! Costume parties are a great excuse to wander about and be silly and these guys seem to be doing a bang-up job of that. Do you think these guys even know each other? Where in the party timeline was this photo snapped: (1) eh, we just got here - where is the keg? (2) whoooooooooo! time for keg stands! who remembers where the keg is? (3) I'm gritting my teeth to keep the puke at bay. Hair of the dog - where is the keg? Next the red-eye is reminiscent of my prowess with the camera. And last but not least - the color composition on this shot is amazing. Look at how the red-eye picks up the red highlights in the crazy streamers in the background, the shirt, the hat, and the big wiener. The yellow offers nice bright spots that draw your eye through the photo.

Photo credit: Circa71 on Flickr

Tag, I Am It (Day Twentyfive, Paragraph 28)

Holly tagged me. I don't usually play these kinds of things but it seems at least half-way relevant to this blog and so I will play along!

The Rules of this Game:

1. Go to where you store your digital photos and open the 4th folder.

2. Post the 4th picture in that folder.

3. Explain the picture.

4. Tag 4 people.

Here is my 4th in my 4th photo:

This pic, which I pulled off a long-forgotten blog post, was the first place I saw the poster that was the primary inspiration for decorating my son's nursery. I knew I wanted a modern vibe that wasn't babyish but was still child-friendly (and gender neutral since we didn't know the Boy was a boy until he was born). When I saw this poster, I knew I had to have it. The grey and orange were exactly what I was going for, the alphabet is classic nursery, I loved that the things used for the letters were a mix of traditional and odd - "D" is for dog but "A" is for Ant; "E" is for Elephant but "V" is for Village; "X" is for Xylophone but "I" is for Inch worm. The walls of the nursery were painted white with wide horizontal grey stripes; the furniture is plain and mostly white; the bedding is orange & white; I found cool UFO-looking lamps; and I found some cool orange art for the other walls; and interspersed some classic things that my husband and I had had in our rooms as children. The final result was better than I could have hoped for and I love being in that room.

I tag:

Mitzi, Sue, Erica, and Jen.

Ski Trip (Day Twentyfive, Paragraphs 26 & 27)

Aside from falling, my most vivid memory of my first time skiing is curly fries. My dad took us skiing, my brother and I. The three of us bundled into the car (I feel like it was our orange Beetle but maybe I am just being overly nostalgic? somehow 1983 Nissan Sentra doesn't have the same magic to it and the heat worked well in that car and I remember being cold) on the drive to Hunter Mountain. My dad had been skiing only once in his life and, according to his version of the story (which is corroborated by my mom) he spent the whole trip at the bar in the lodge. My experience skiing that first trip left me with the notion that future ski trips would be spent much the way my dad liked to spend his. I did put on ski boots and skis. I held ski poles. But I could not stay vertical. I fell. And fell. And fell. And fell. My brother skied like an expert right from the get go. My dad waived to us from a bench on the sidelines. When I couldn't take it anymore, we went to the cafeteria and had hot chocolate and the curliest curly fries we had ever seen. They were the kind of fries that look incredible - curlicues galore, golden brown, glistening, steaming - yet taste like cardboard. We ate them anyway because they looked amazing.

Several years later, I tried skiing again on a family trip to Vermont. The conditions were terrible - the instructors and ski patrol people were telling us that it was the coldest winter on record and that even hard core skiers were staying away. Not being one to like failing I gave it a go again. I put on ski boots and skis. I held ski poles. But I could not stay vertical. I fell. And fell. And fell. And fell. My brother skied like an expert right from the get go. My dad wived to us from a bench on the sidelines. When I couldn't take it anymore, we went to the bar and had hot chocolate with Baileys. Who needs curly fries.

Photo credit: Leo-setä on Flickr