NaBloPoMo Day 7: Back to Bibliophagery!

One of the best compliments I ever received came in December of 1996 while I was in Los Angeles visiting my friend Doug. It was the day after Christmas, we were sitting in a bar, and my navel piercing had just been reworked with a dangling sun. As we finished our first pitcher of beer, Doug looked at me and said, “You’re one of the most well-read people I know.” I’ll never forget that, because those words are So Much Better than, “Nice chest.” or “Good work with the liquid eyeliner, Cleopatra!”

It has been a few years since I read a book that made me feel smart. And I realize that feeling smart while reading isn’t necessarily a goal shared by many. BUT, to me, feeling smart while reading is sort of like drinking the perfect salted caramel hot chocolate while strolling around after dark wearing my favorite shoes and coat and heading toward an old movie theater with Jeff to watch Amélie. And, what was that? Oh! It’s just starting to snow!

(Side story: I just reached up to scratch my neck and found that it had been bleeding. So now I’m sort of living a Flaming Lips song, and that hardly ever happens. (Words begin at 1:18, and although I really love the song, I wouldn’t advise you to watch the video if the sight of blood makes you feel oogey.) )

A few months back, Jeff and I attended a wedding where I bonded with a woman over tattoos and vodka. Last month, we serendipitously ran into each other again as I was working in the yarn store. As strange as it sounds, we sort of knew that our friendship was meant to be, so we traded information and have now formed a book club. And I’m feeling very enthusiastic. And if you know me at all, you know that I’m rarely turned up to Enthusiastic.

Yesterday I took an hour out of my day to fill up my Facebook “Books I Have Read” page. As I filled it out, I started feeling sparked to free up some time for reading. This morning I read this article, and now I’m roasting. Broiling, even. In fact, tonight just might find me putting the vampire books aside and diving into something more gristly. And I think this phase will be kicked off with more David Foster Wallace. Because, seriously. Read the article.

Today: Cleaned the family room a bit, took Harper to The Little Gym, shared a bowl of lima beans, type type type type type for Day 7, will clean some more, perhaps knit a bit, get Meredith from the bus stop, go to Target to search for chocolate brown sheets, celebrate Meredith’s month of reading with a free pizza at Pizza Hut, knit a bit more (I’m really focusing on this and this right now.), and then in bed by 9:30 to read!

I’ll be back tomorrow. In the meantime, spark me. Let me know what you’re reading! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

NaBloPoMo Day 6: But enough about these tranquil parts.

NaBloPoMo is tricky when everything is going well and you haven’t really left the house in a few days.

Do you care that a constellation has formed on my neck?

Do you care that a group of people on Facebook really angered me, and I did absolutely nothing about it?

Do you care that I found my journal from 2000? Do you want me to share some lines with you?

Wait. You do?! Well, okay then!

These are not in any type of order, and I refuse to provide context. Here goes.

It’s the equivalent to grabbing a burger with Jesus.

I’m not ready to wipe my rear with a stranger’s discarded Kleenex.

Jeff is moving to Nashville in a little over a week, and I need to remember how important communication is to a healthy gastrointestinal tract.

The drinking of Chardonnay reveals a lack of imagination.

My words are being twisted and molded like a soggy kneecap or a scrambled egg sitting on top of a pancake sausage sandwich.

I am swamped and bewildered.

Parker Posey doesn’t recognize the past tense.

When we got to the house, we found sixteen strangers writing messages to one another on the walls. After reading random messages for nearly an hour, I found a line that someone had written to me about my four kidney infections and how they corresponded with my four failed relationships and how I should look into purchasing a rototiller to prepare my dirt for seed. I left the house feeling confused and immediately headed to 7-11 where I purchased a family-sized bag of Funyons and some chocolate milk. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

NaBloPoMo Day 5: I think we’ll stick around for this one.

When the 2004 election results were announced, Meredith grabbed her hot sauce and started planning her relocation to Canada.

Ready to Roll

Suitcase Around the Neck

This time around she’s quite pleased with the outcome, and she firmly believes the world is about to change in a really great way. (With that said, she would move to India in a heartbeat if she had the chance.)

Harper is happy because Meredith is happy.
AND, she’s been calling me Barack O’Mommy all day.
I’m cool with that.

P.S. I cleaned my room today. Floooooorboards?! Dusted!

P.P.S Um, yeah. Apparently, I have no idea what a floorboard is. What I meant to say was: Baaaaaaseboards?! Dusted! Okay then. Back to work. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

NaBloPoMo Day 4: Memories of Voting

I voted for Michael Dukakis when I was eighteen years old. Shortly after returning to my dorm room that afternoon, the college radio station announced that they were offering three potluck CDs to the first person who could name all three Beastie Boys. Obviously, I won the CDs. (Obviously!) To this day, I associate the 1988 election with the Beastie Boys.

In 1992 I voted for Bill Clinton. After voting, I drove to my part-time job at Olan Mills where one of my co-workers gave me an order of bread sticks from Pizza Hut, a big silly can of Foster’s, and a CD single of “I Will Always Love You.” This set of gifts was unexpected and strange, and I’m still a bit confused about it all.

In 1996 I voted for Bill Clinton. After work that evening, Jeff and I went over to my friend Carole’s house and watched a movie. Before leaving, I called home and was told that a pack of wild dogs had attacked and killed my neighbor’s dog in my parents’ front yard.

In 2000 I voted for Ralph Nader. And I had a migraine. And the production manager where I worked (in Nashville) made fun of the Ralph Nader thing so much that I actually used the migraine to go home early from work simply to avoid the maddening Green Party jokes.

In 2004, my mom came over to watch Meredith so that Jeff and I could go vote for John Kerry. And I’ve never felt so completely positive that my candidate would win. And when he didn’t? I got all lactational and weepy. I don’t want to talk about it.

So, here we are. 2008. I took my place in line at 5:10 this morning, and arrived home just in time to pass the voting baton to Jeff at 6:30. After he voted, he discovered that the battery in the car was dead. A very kind gentleman jumped the car, and Jeff drove it to McDonald’s to grab a coffee. While there, the car died again, and the girls and I were able to rescue him before my biscuit got cold. And by Biscuit, I mean Biscuit. Other noteworthy items of the day? Harper ordered a corn dog for lunch. She didn’t eat it, but she DID order it. (We’ll talk about her resistant eating some other day.) And the car doesn’t matter, and the eating doesn’t matter (today, at least), and the fact that I’m once again feeling the beginning of a migraine doesn’t matter. What matters? Today we’re making history. And I know you’ve heard that at least thirty times already. But, really. Something amazing is about to happen. And I’m feeling sort of giddy and hopeful. And I hope you’re feeling the same way.

Enjoy your evening. Really enjoy it. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

NaBloPoMo Day 3: I despise the phrase Super Fling Boogie, Fly Lady.

Our house is not clean. Seriously. (That’s why you haven’t been invited over for dinner or coffee.)

Our house is very small. We have more stuff than storage space for that stuff. And I know we need to either look inside ourselves for some motivation to release Stuff, or else we need one of those television crews to come over and humiliate us into The Disposing of The Stuff.

We have lived here six years, and we haven’t yet hung anything (except for a few photos here and there) on the walls. Our family room carpet is disgusting, and we haven’t yet been able to find the cash to rework it.

With all of that said, I’m supposed to be making a video of our bedroom sometime in the next seven days. I’ll leave it at that, because the ideas stirred up in your imagination are surely more dazzling (and Marvin Gaye-ish) than what is actually taking place.

I’m feeling surprisingly shamefaced.

I guess I just need you to tell me that your place is a dump, too. Or, better yet, motivate me to step away from the kids, the computer, the knitting, the muffins, the whatever, and Beautify. I dream of entering a fresh-smelling house with zero clutter, clean carpets, and kids who eat anything I put on their plate. Right now I’m 0 for 4. (My mother-in-law just returned my copy of Sink Reflections. That stinkin’ bright pink book has been screaming and following me around the house spiderwalk-style for the past 48 hours.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

NaBloPoMo Day 1: Both share the possibility of projectile flight, I suppose.

Flying Fairy

Last night the fairies went flying.

First we bend down really low, and then we fly away!

(Their landings may lack grace, but they more than make up for it with cuteness and vivacity! Hello there! Welcome to my mommy blog where I sometimes post photos of my kids and then I go all verbal about how cute I think they are! I don’t normally choose this path!)

Today found the fairies camped out on the family room couch. According to Meredith’s teacher, there is a puking epidemic making its way through the kindergarten. Meredith is not a puker (do you hear me knocking on wood and setting herbs on fire over here?!), but, where am I going with this?! It’s flipping Day One of NaBloPoMo, and I’m sitting here with three hours left until midnight—drinking my eighth (and final) glass of water for the day (because I’m back on that kick again), watching sour-faced Zellweger in Bridget Jones, and searching for a ridiculous metaphor to splice fairies and vomit.

I’ll be back tomorrow.

And you can’t wait. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Don’t say booze and nudity.

Can you read with your eyes closed?

Okay, then. Close your eyes and picture yourself as a knitter who is trying to finish some knitted gifts before the holidays. Also, it’s snowing and you’re in your pajamas drinking coffee and watching Season Two of Gilmore Girls. Wait! What’s that noise? Oh! Because the mailman has a bit of a crush on you, he’s delivering the mail to your door instead of making you trudge to the box. Okay. Hidden in that stack of bills and holiday cards is an invitation to a late-night knitting party!

What would make that party The Perfect Party? ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

My arm hurts at the injection site. And that is normal. And so am I.

Thanks so much for your laundry advice. (I have never typed that sentence before.) As I sit here at the computer, I can smell the vinegar slapping those towels around in the washer. The spores are screaming! And, I will NEVER be a fan of Marcia Cross. Marcia Cross, you may now enter My Room of Unloved Ladies. Please take a seat next to Ashley Judd. Enjoy the anise cookies. And the Jägermeister.

This week is sort of whirlwindy.

Tonight? Dinner with the friend who once decorated my rehearsal dinner space with gourds. She’s also the friend who introduced me to Dorothy Parker and Fran Lebowitz. In other words: Parker and Lebowitz, and creative with gourds. This is a friend I shall keep.

Tomorrow? I’m filling in for a co-worker’s knitalong! And we’ll be casting on a sweater using the Elizabeth Zimmerman Percentage System. (I’m sure I’ll be telling you more about my job next month during NaBloPoMo. Maybe I’ll do a Day in the Life of a Part-Time Employee thing complete with photos! Wait. Why did 17 of you just leave the room?)

Wednesday? Nothing on the calendar, and Harper wants a pair of Halloween socks to match Meredith’s. I might devote that day to speed knitting some ankle socks. Luckily, her feet are the length of HoHos.

Thursday is going to be good. I’m volunteering at the school to register the kindergarten kids for their mock election, I’m attending Harper’s Fall Pre-School Party, and I’m lunching with Harper’s best friend and her mom at Blueberry Hill. Thursday night? Knitting with the gang and then finishing the party prep for the kindergarten party on Friday.

Friday? Kindergarten party, where I will be playing the role of Head Room Parent! After the party, we’re taking the kids to St. Charles for trick or treating, since our subdivision has pretty much crapped out on Halloween participation.

Also on my To Do list for the week is “String 42.” I just made the list yesterday afternoon, and I have no idea what String 42 means. I recently learned that 42 is the angle of degrees for rainbows. Also, God once sent bears to eat the 42 kids who made fun of a bald guy.

I got my flu shot yesterday, and I am very much looking forward to voting. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Greetings from Putrid Pudding!

So, I just signed on for NaBloPoMo again, and I’m trying to figure out if or how to shake it up a bit this year. I do know that I’m going to be crying on November 4th. And if those tears aren’t of the happy flavor, well, I just might throw in my stinkin’ towel and post stink-eye photos for the remainder of the month.

Speaking of stinkin’ towels (sadly, my transitions lack imagination), I’m currently suffering from a case of the stinking towels. I’m not sure if this stems back to our Feces in the Basement (!) problem or the fact that I sometimes let things sit in the washer too long, but our towels smell like mildew. I dry my face with one, and then I spend the night smelling my soured fetid face. And I dry the kids’ hair with one, and then I send them to the car for the night so I don’t have to breathe in their rancid tresses. And when your friend sends you some incredible soap and then the smell of your supposedly clean towel completely chews up the good scent and spits foul yuck all over you, well, something has to give because it’s starting to affect my mood.

As I type this letter to you, I am using (for the first time ever!) fabric softener laced with Febreze to try to kill the stink on the towels. Think happy thoughts. Also, Dear Jeff: Your underpants (for the first time ever!) are going to be surprisingly soft (and lavender scented!) tomorrow. Let me know if you need me to knit suspenders to hold them up.

So, anyway, yeah. NaBloPoMo. Join me. (I don’t say it enough, but I love reading your words.) Let me know if you’re signing up, and I’ll be your stinky St. Louis friend. (As Wurocher once said, “Everybody needs a stinky St. Louis friend.”) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>