Friday, March 26, 2010

I can't get this funny thing to embed properly, so you'll have to go here and watch it.

Please do.

via @scottmccloud

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Friday, March 19, 2010

You can read it in the Sunday Papers...

So a blogger I enjoy, Alice, who writes Finslippy, now has a regular column in the women's magazine Redbook and at Because I find her to be a stitch - does anyone say that anymore, to characterize someone who is witty? I bet not even old people say that anymore - at any rate, she's just a stitch, so upon seeing that she was writing for a real live magazine, I surfed right over to read her first column.

It made me laugh out loud, and was a fitting evocation of an experience I had all the time when Ian was younger, when, out of sheer exuberance and poor depth perception, he would routinely smack us. Really hard!! With no aggression or malice - more as a greeting! Or to say thank you! My dentist informs me that one of my teeth - the one that still tingles randomly, a year later - bears the marks of 'trauma'. Perhaps a head-butt. I can't even remember an impact from around that time, but it wouldn't surprise me one bit.

Dude, the day I have to get a root canal, that child had better be hand-puree-ing my food, fluffing my pillows and standing at the ready with the Percoset 24 hours a day.

Anyway, I'm an older lady now, and occasionally I need things like moisturizer recommendations and slow-cooker recipes, so I poked around the Redbook website for a few minutes.

Something I didn't know: Redbook is a veritable fount of, get this, sex advice. (They just don't put it on their cover like Cosmo does.)

I noticed this, since there's a block of links at the bottom of this page, and the first category is "sex and love". But the second link stopped me in my tracks:

"New sex positions".

REALLY? Are there really literally new sex positions? Are they new to the editors? New to (gulp) me? They might be, but I cannot imagine that there are actually any NEW sex positions.

And of course, being a new-wave girl, I now have Joe Jackson poundung in my head.

The volume's a little low on this clip. So, um, pump up the volume or whatever.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

fainting from the lovliness:

and if that wasn't enough:

via @knitthecity, via adfreak

Monday, March 15, 2010

Dinner tonight - a pretty, good salad.

We went out to breakfast today, and Eric and I each ate a huge plate of SOMETHING NO ONE SHOULD EVER EAT - mine included cheese, bacon, sour cream, potatoes, and 2 fried eggs with runny yolks.

It was absolutely delicious.

I spent the day mentally running through the signs of stroke and cardiac arrest.

So for dinner, we had a really pretty salad.

Microwave a huge sweet potato for about 8 minutes. It should be cooked but not totally cooked.

dice a red bell pepper.

peel a carrot, discard the peels and then keep peeling, so you end up with wide, translucent ribbons of carrot.

Once the microwave dings, leave the sweet potato alone for a while. Then, holding it with an oven mitt, slice the peel off and carefully dice the sweet potato. Throw all those veggies in a bowl.

Make a vinagrette. Mine contained apple cider vinegar, olive oil, orange juice, salt, pepper, sugar, and a squirt of Dijon mustard.

Pour the vinegrette over the red and orange veggies in the bowl; add the green parts of 2 spring onions, clipped small. Let this sit for 5-10 minutes.

Open a can of chick peas and rinse and drain them.

Using dinner plates, plate some butter lettuce (mine was a Salad Express bagged mix, and it was really good!) Add a large portion of chick peas, and a couple serving-spoon-fuls of the red and orange mixture. Serve.

It's gorgeous, and a great mix of textures and tastes, plus it's a really balanced meal because of the chick peas.

How my life has been for the last 4 years:

I sat down after dinner, in the comfy chair in the living room.
I closed my eyes.
40 seconds or so went by.
I could feel my son crawl up into my lap.

He crouched on my left thigh, and, very gingerly, with his thumb and forefinger, and pulled my eyelid open, so he could stare into my eye.

"Um, hi," I said.

"Hi, Mom." He said it in a heartfelt way, as if he'd been expecting me, as if I had just arrived to visit him at his apartment.

And I thought, there is it. There is my life, the last 5 years of my life, and presumably the next 15 or 20, all condensed into a single minute.

I was awful to him today - short-tempered, sarcastic, crabby. To be fair, he was pretty obnoxious too; as much as we enjoy cartoons together, he's picking up some phrases and inflections that are pretty unbecoming for a 4-year-old. I think we need to cool it on the animated smartasses.

I love him. I'm so proud of him, so fascinated by him, so astonished by him, and so so so so sick of him.

I'm embarrassed that I'm not more embarrassed by that. But not enough to backspace over it.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

Confession Time:

would you believe that I am fb chatting with my bff ABOUT CELEBRITIES STRETCH MARKS?

I am ashamed.

Jesus loves me anyway, but jeez.

Friday, March 05, 2010

I am now 48.

Or, as I said to Carl the other day, 18 - with 3 decades of experience.

Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come - just in the past 5 or so years, in fact - and I think that, including everything, I am probably the happiest I have ever been.

Tomorrow night - a movie, in an actual movie theatre! With my actual husband!

And then dinner! A dinner at which no one will offer us a paper placemat or a package of cellophane-bagged crayons. No juice boxes will be produced from my giant, magical carpet bag.

In fact, I will leave my tiger-striped Mary Poppins bag in the closet. I will carry a tiny clutch. With no plastic dinosaurs in it.

(and I will sit at a table in a restaurant, mooning over some stranger's baby. Just watch. I can practically guarantee it.)

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

graphic c. 2009, core77, from here. All rights reserved, I'm sorry, please don't sue me.

My birthday's coming up this week, and I just wanted to commemorate this aspect of my life.

I started journaling in earnest - after a few false starts and assigned class projects in high school - on my birthday, 15 years ago. I don't write every day (by a damn sight) and I don't write in tremendous volume, but for the last 15 years, I have never been without a notebook to catch my most boring, mundane, totally-not-worth-sharing thoughts and feelings, sketches of outfits I've seen, designs for bags, sweaters, and completely unwearable tops, jokes, book titles (ones that I want to read and ones that I want to write), notes about great dishes I've eaten, indecipherable diagrams, sarcastic cartoons during sincere ministry meetings, and the fortunes from a hundred cookies.

I was about to write about how 'journaling has kept me sane."

But, since I filled my prescriptions today, I'm reminded that that would not be technically true.

Nonetheless, I want to say that there is something of inestimable value is honoring your story by writing it down, especially if you expect that no one else will ever see it. That, in this world, someone cares what you think - even if it's just you.

So this is my advice to you. Get a notebook. Get a decent pen. Carry it around. Write shit down. Process stuff on the page. Bitch about your spouse. Worship your dry cleaner. Write about your sex life. You don't have to be fair, and it doesn't have to make sense, not even to you, if you were to read it later. You don't have to read it later. Draw your terrible, terrible pictures that would mortify your elementary school art teacher. If you're really into it, you can carry colored pencils and a glue stick, like I do.

It really will make a difference.