Jan 31, 2005
and he went to the electrical socket, which i have both nailed and taped a tuperware bowel over to keep him from unplugging things, and touched it and shook his head "no." which is what i do when he touches it.
and he kept making this sign and saying "dada" so i repeated the sign and said "does this mean dada now?" and he said "dada!" and ran to the front door and pointed at it and cried-----because that's where daddy goes to work.
and then penn cried because daddy is at work and not at home bouncing him on the bed.
and then we read "mr. brown can moo, can you?" and every time i get to the line "he can sound like a hand on a door knock knock" penn knocked on the book.
and because he and the cat fell asleep on me at naptime and if it weren't for the much needed bath i would have laid there all day holding him. smiling.
i do actually like this one.
though always a fan of the standard silver paperclip, i decided to throw in one of those colored ones. now sing, "one of these things is not like the other. one of these things just doesn't belong. can you tell me which thing's not like the other by the time i'm finished singing this song?"
yeh. we tivo sesame street. at any point in the day when i run out of things to play and nap time is quickly approaching, i play sesame street. sesame street got me a whole extra hour of sleep this morning. does this make me a bad mother? not according to ginger. she used barney, i think.
(drumroll please) the soymilk carton.
next up, the wadded up papertowel that was lying handy on the table.
just for you, ginger! someday i'll have to get down there and photograph you so we can do away already with those, ummm, high school poker night pictures. good thing we had those coke cans to, ummm, strategically place for a kodak moment (proof that drinking definetly impairs your judgement). and, ummm, good thing i was a better player than you. hah!
Jan 30, 2005
i got two:
from cat, a question in three parts: do you speak any other languages than english? will penn grow up knowing more than one? what exactly IS your ethnic background?
-i speak fluent pig latin. i also speak five years worth of french taken several years ago which means my talents are basically only good for translating the back of shampoo bottles now. all of the words still look very familiar but you couldn't pay me enough to remember a definition.
-i will teach penn pig latin.
-i am korean-american, the whitey side consisting of, i think, irish and german with rumors of indian.
from chris: I have a question for you...do you ever visit my blog?
-of course i visit your blog! and to prove it i'll ask you a question: do you ever update? heh heh. (love the pics of you and dale!)
once upon a time i was young and staying up late with my dad watching tv when michael jackson's new video "thriller" came on. it was on this night i had my first reacurring nightmare. in the dream i open the blinds and wherewolf jackson is staring at me, ready to pounce. i crawled into my dad's waterbed that night and he taught me pig latin to take my mind off the nightmare. this is one of those really clear memories in my head.
today at frye's electronics, "thriller" was playing on the big screen. i told penn he might not want to look, lest he have nightmares like mommy. he looked.
in my only other reacurring dream i had sex with kurt cobain. in the last dream i had of him i was sitting on a white plastic bucket and he was sitting beside me, nonchalantly hitting it with a stick. i haven't had another dream about him since high school.
more interesting than my heritage, perhaps is penn's because i am mixed korean and american and benji is mixed black and white with rumors of puerto rican and japanese in the black, and french in the white. penn is the mutt of all mutts. the child of the future. you can see it in his eyes. at least i can.
then again, i'm his mother. i see a lot of things in there.
Jan 29, 2005
that's me. that's me after midnight taking pictures of 31 pounds of tiny bottles full of expensive stuff with packaging that makes promises using words like "radient" and "exfoliating" and "lightweight non-greasy." i'll never know if they work. i hear jessica simpson and britney spears say they work. lots of magazines say they work. but me? i'll never know because the pricetag of one of the bottles made me run screaming into benji's studio saying things like, "just guess how much this costs! oh, come on. try!"
**disclaimer: this should in no way discourage you from shopping at this salon. she is a really lovely woman with, i'm sure, exceptional products, and i'm just being funny and cheap here.
remember when i asked for a heaven? this is it. expensive arctic white paper taped to my wall and kitchen table with a bunch of lights beaming down in an attempt to eliminate any and all shadows, because we all know that good skin care products are shadowless.
the lights are hot, yo. hot and bright. if you could zoom in on this picture you would not only be able to see the beads of sweat across the bridge of my barely existent nose, but you would smell the funk. mmmmm, mmmmm, good.
i took breaks outside on my balcony where it was cold and noticed that the lights were so bright they cast a humongous building sized carissa shadow against the brick wall next door. i should've gotten a picture of that. i was more distracted with the idea that if anything naughty happened to be going down on my balcony right now, with all those lights on, like, totally the whole wide uptown dallas world could see it. like a drive-in shadow puppet movie.
it only took a couple of hours, but they were long hot hours where i congratulated myself on getting the job with every other bag of tiny white bottles i opened. and then i cursed myself and questioned my product photography career with every bag in between. know what?
it's cool. really really cool. i'm able to make in a couple of hours what it would have taken me 40 hours to make at the coffee shop. so cool.
bonus? the proprietor of the tiny white bottles gave me a glowing recommendation to another company and i have thus earned another product job.
more hours baking over an artificial heaven. joy!
(thanks again sj!)
Jan 28, 2005
except for tonight. tonight i was magic-less and advised benji to do what i would do if i failed to seduce my laptop onto the internet. i'd call tech support.
i have been talking to tech support a lot these days as our wireless has gone and grew a brain of it's own.
having much to do tonight i resisted benji's whines about calling tech support himself and explained that the process will be as easy for him as it is for me. you simply answer their questions and type what they tell you to type. he did not even make it through, no exaggeration, 40 seconds of the automated portion of the call before the screaming began and the phone throwing occured and then, for the rest of the night he stomped around and slammed doors and cabinets and dishes and, i swear to you, would not talk to me.
noting that benji had performed his own magic trick, the one where he poofs himself into an 8 year old, i did not try to engage conversation, merely i asked hours later if he wanted to talk about his anger or stay pissed. he didn't really answer my question, but he did say, "you said they wouldn't ask me any questions i didn't know the answers to and they did and so i've decided to stay pissed and curse at you."
ummmmhmmm. there are two babies in the house, and i will admit to you that i prefer the tantrum experience of the one who cries over the one who stomps.
tonight benji also mentioned going to hawaii. see how the love balences out?
Jan 27, 2005
there is the congo. the congo. the congo.
it bears repeating.
enough to stick an image
deep inside the part of your head
that wants to do something. the congo.
because who is doing anything?
what could ever possibly be enough.
there is rwanda.
there is africa.
there is war.
there is genocide.
there is the congo.
and tell me where was the point
it became acceptable for humanity to
over and over
in the forest
in the streets
in the kitchen
on a fear soaked dirt
in the congo.
they are looking for freedom
without consent and
in front of husbands and sons and
in women's vagina's.
there is no hope in rape and
there are women being raped
by tens of men at a time.
forced to spread their mothers legs
and tie them to trees
to let the strangers in.
forced to enter
the door that let them into the world.
there are human beings
as feeling and important
as you and
they are leaving this world screaming
the congo. the congo. the congo.
the jungles of africa are
the villages are painted red.
the eyes of the country are bled numb
and the children cannot understand.
i know this.
not because i was there.
not because i know anyone there.
not because i have ever been violated.
not because my eyes are dead organs
in a living body
trying not to care.
i know because this, the congo,
it hurts too much to watch.
i know this because i am lucky enough
to sit here,
a spoiled american,
in the warm comforts of my home
my husband and child,
nestled together in bed
she who knows she should do more.
when there is the congo. the congo. the congo.
and there are other things. other places. other people.
all stuck inside a thought inside
the place in my head
that knows, more than anything,
that something has to be done.
*photo courtesy of bbc news.
Jan 26, 2005
oh yes. yes he did. he said ball, and his l's sound a little funny, but it was most definetly the word ball, not some weird exaggeration a mother does to make you think her child is smart, and i swear to you my heart almost burst all over the place.
the "words" they are growing more accurate every day. "ish" means "fish." "oosh" means "shoes." shaking his head no means everything and so we have started to teach him to nod his head yes, which looks more like a living breathing pez dispenser dance, but we get it. he can tell you where his head is, in addition to his tongue and my belly button and your nose. he can do that indian sound where you put your hand over your mouth over and over. he can dance. he can give you a high five every which way around.
and apparently. if you hit the bottom of his feet with a pack of kleenex he will giggle like mad. and that giggle, my friend, is more addictive than coffee and ciggarettes on a five minute lunch break from a dead end job.
despite the many cute points penn gets for his "ba bah shi pa da lap shee heeeeeeee," there are words in there. real ones. i can't wait. i think. ummmm, yes. i can't wait.
and although i am terribly interesting, i don't think there will be any "100 things about me" here any time soon.
why? thanks for asking.
because. because i'm not sure i want the internet to know all of the interesting things about me. because the only things i can think about are things that require details that i really don't want to tell the whole wide world and so the item would sound vague and cryptic and your imagination would fill in the blanks with something either horrid or extraordinary or dull and boring, and whatever the case, it surely wouldn't be accurate and if i did make a list of 100 things about me, somewhere, in a prominent place on that list, would be the fact that i do not like innacuracy.
because i have had a wonderful life with exciting moments, but i am far too young to be listing (see: admitting) them all at this moment on the internet.
because, for some reason, if i were to make a list, my head would first begin thinking of a bunch of silly things i've done, rather than character traits or childhood moments. (see first because)
so. there will be no "100 things about me" posts anytime soon. however, i am open to questions.
you'd like to know what?
Jan 25, 2005
i have had magnetic poetry since it was invented. it doesn't get played with much anymore, other than the baby pushing it around. let us all bow our heads and remember the time when penn ate and then pooped the word "to."
but it is pretty, isn't it? all close up like this. so i have decided to bless you with a picture of the fridge lit ever so often.
don't expect much. there are only so many words.
Jan 23, 2005
i enlisted benji to photograph my newly coloured hair. i don't know that the lighting will reflect it's true nature, but the bathroom is as bright as it gets.
i blindly raised pieces to show the shocking color underneath.
and when i do this, it looks a little more punky than it actually is.
and this one, well it just makes my head appear crooked and wonky. "the angle," benji said, "is more artistic." mmmm, i don't know 'bout all that, but it's the only picture of the back of my head.
ha! i can't believe i'm putting pictures of my twice napped in hair right here for all the internet to see.
ah well, ginger did ask . . .
she was a neighbor of ours before we moved across town and she has bestowed nothing but kindness, generosity and creativity upon my head. she is a hair artist. really. long ago, late at night, in her living room, she took my long, boring thick, slightly wavy hair and transformed me into a rockstar. i refuse to go to anyone else.
even though i've been having some very satisfactory hair days lately, i was pleasently surprised when benji came home with news that nathalie the great was going to cut my hair today. she too was pleased at how nicely it had grown out. when she proposed we put color in it for fun, benji said he and brandon would take the baby, and so, hours later, i have beautiful colors in my hair!
brandon also got a cut and immediatley got hit on at whole foods.
a gazillion thumbs up to nathalie. if you live in the dallas area, i just almost insist you go to her and see what your hair is capable of.
more hair stuff: when i ran out of my usual 365 botanical shampoo and was at a store that didn't carry the brand, i opted for garnier fructis sleek and shine shampoo and conditioner. it absolutley positively works. the sleek and shine serum is a little bottle from heaven. i won't go into any silly cosmopolitan details, it just works. period. even nathalie the great asked me what i was using in my hair.
TIDY CAT QUICK SIFTING LITTER BOX LINERS! holy crap are they cool. when i had one cat, the litter box was never a bid deal. but now we have two fat cats. fat stinky poo all the time cats. i took a chance with the litter box liners. too good to be true, i thought. i could not be more wrong. when it's time to scoop you just lift the four corners of the liner, watch the "clean" litter fall out and the poo stays in the liner. throw away the bag of poop. wa-la! i am so sold. i am so sold that i am broadcasting to the world on my personal blog that litterbox liners are cool.
and last, but not least, something more people can relate to: tivo! yay for tivo. i got benij tivo for christmas. it was a splurge. it was unnecassary. but dude. it is so cool. even now i am watching the parts of saturday night live i missed 'cause of babystuff.
now, go out and git yer herr did, clean up some shit, and sit on your butt and watch tv. it's the american way, yo.
Jan 22, 2005
once again i would like to use a comment i made on chuck's post, "Street Smart v. Book Smart: Why I Hate The Setup For The New Apprentice" as a post of my very own.
why? because my other options for discussion involve the turd stuck in my son's ass, a famous opera singer, and supernanny.
if you have watched the first episode of nbc's "the apprentice" you know that the contestents have been divided according to their education level. one team have college degrees, and the other, highschool degrees. chuck? he hates it.
here's what i had to say:
i'm still uncertain as to how i feel about the "street smarts" vs. "book smarts." mostly because i find labels to be too black and white and i live in an extraordinary world of grey.
i went to school for 7 yrs. straight. SEVEN YEARS, my friend, and still, i am without a degree. i could list a couple of really good legitimate reasons as to why i don't have a degree, and although i will own my scenerio and take full blame (in leu of a better word) for this, they are, in fact, pretty good reasons. (okay, let me go elementary for just a second: advisors suck! and so does transferring to different universities.)
would i be more economically sound if i had a degree? who knows. not having a degree has made me not apply for certain jobs calling for that expensive piece of paper. however, i have justified all of this in that i took classes i wanted to take, vs. required classes and in the artistic field no one cares how educated you are. they are rightfully more concerned with how talented you are. or at least they should be. and talent cannot be bought with a 35,000 student loan.
i think the dividing of the teams by education level is controversial, which is good for tv. nothing more. and since my major was film and broadcast television, i will respect the decision and continue to admire that which is tivo.
***note: i would like to extend much gratitude to chuck and his blog for giving me something to think/write about during my blogging drought.
Jan 21, 2005
however----when our third lexmark printer failed us, just as ludwell had given me some new nifty cd insert software, i was more than a giddy school girl when brandon allowed me to use his printer.
no really. i was excited! doesn't take much these days. it turned out great and will be a nice new addition to the package my clients recieve when hiring me.
(front of cd)
(back of cd)
the cd inserts were a nice pick-me-up after feeling as if the baby was angry at me. he's a runny nose lately making it difficult for him to fall asleep. and that snot sucker bulb? yeah. he hates it. hates it alot. but this afternoon at nap time, i couldn't listen to the poor snotty gurgling any longer and went to sucking.
lo and behold it worked and the baby went straight to sleep. so. of course. i tried it again tonight. didn't work so well and it literally, i think, made him angry at me. he didn't even protest when i left the room.
man. those teenage years are gonna suck.
Jan 20, 2005
tell me why, penn, you wake up from your afternoon nap and cry for me to come get you, and then, soon as i open the door, you put those cute little fingers in your mouth and fall straight over---whump!---like dead weight causing me to giggle at you and your narly bed head (best bed head ever, i say). causing me to crawl into bed with you to snuggle and then fall asleep with you for an hour. causing me to not do the sundry of things i would like to accomplish while you're not attached to my leg.
i mean, are you crying for a napping partner? are you crying because you want to get up but my snuggling is just too comfortable to rise and shine? are you crying because your bed head is too embaressing, even for you? are you crying because you secretly hate when mommy does laundry?
and another thing. how come when i stumble into the kitchen half asleep at 7 in the morning in response to your clockwork demand for the morning cup of milk that miraculously allows me to sleep until 9 o'clock, and miraculously either puts you back to sleep with me or lets you happily play by yourself until breakfast, how come on those times when you decide to go back to sleep, you won't let me take the cup away from you? seriously. you're asleep penn. you can't drink when you're asleep. and i'm tired of daddy cursing about his wet back and sleeping in the wet spot.
i'm also tired of changing the sheets.
my suggestion to you, penn, is to keep up that cute thing you got going. it's your superpower. and it works. oh, does it work.
Jan 19, 2005
after watching the retro alternative punk band "freakout" last weekend, i decided to volunteer my services to design them a cd cover. here are three off the top of my head designs. any thoughts? suggestions? favorites? feel free to say you don't like any of them as although these may make it to the final selection for them, they probably won't be the last i do.
Jan 18, 2005
this is the xmas card i made for mary. she's painting now, so i went with adjectives like ethereal, artistic, and old soul. i was never sure if it was finished. still not, i suppose, but i enjoy looking at it.
chuck over at burst transmition posted something entitled "pondering god . . ." i went to comment on it and ended up with something much longer. this "much longer" is a not a bad short version of my take on religion. and you know what? i find myself in these discussions a lot, and becuase i'm so talked out, i tend to only join in when directly asked my feelings, and even then i just sort of gloss over it all.
so. i decided to copy and paste my comment, with the tiniest bit of editing so that it makes sense, regardless if you know me or the big baptist church i mention.
why post my comment? i don't know. because it's relativley precise, and i am never precise.
in my younger youth i would really get off on a good god discussion. the college hippie activists smoking pot and drinking coffee and painting their "energy" and reciting kerouac and d.a. levy around me were crucial to my bohemien debating style.
and now? mmmm, i just don't care, i guess. the beauty of being agnostic, maybe? i have found my "soul" several times. and every time it seems new and improved.
i expect---no, i intend, to find it several more times before my days are up.
the first time i realized my "soul" could stand on it's own two feet was when i was attending the big baptist church all by myself because my best friends went and the cool people went and my piano teacher went and she wanted me to play on occasion. i attempted to lead a good, christian life according to the standards set by this church. i wanted to be baptised and went to talk to the preacher. he explained baptism to me by dunking his index finger in imaginary holy water. i can still remember focusing on that big finger falling back slowly and coming back upright. i can still remember the smell of that musty old church room and my best friend sitting beside me, holding my hand.
and then he explained that he would NOT baptise me because it wasn't god talking to me, but my emotions.
in that moment my emotions really began talking to me, and they said with astonishment: holy shit.
i hold no animosity towards the man, rather i thank him for really opening my eyes. and yes, i rebelled clear to the other side of the spectrum, but ahhh the serene balence that that experience, matched with a little age, has brought me.
i feel most have a little empty space inside them and part of life is having to fill it. what the space is asking for, among many things, is "what is my justification for living and loving?" many have it filled for them with religion, or choose this route on their own. many get confused or lazy and fill it with crap. me? i have filled it with a lot of things, beginning with introspection.
religion and/or god is not for me. it doesn't speak to me. it doesn't make one single lick of sense to me. i repsect it's place in other peoples lives, because i respect other peoples lives. but i can't help but wonder what our world would be like if we offered a happy fullfilled life without a god as often as we offered big baptist churches.
Jan 17, 2005
the falling out of this tooth marks the beginning of a brand new phase for the boy. i'll be pc about it and call it "assertiveness." my kind, sweet, gentle little man, perhaps, received one too many runs over on the playground and one too many pushes out of the way and has thus come to the reasonable conclusion that if someone's doing something you don't want, physical exertion will remove this unwanted person from your space.
well, if only it were that easy.
couple days back we went to play with a friends baby who is a month and a bit older than penn. this child wanted penn's juice. which, umm, i don't know, felt a little weird because this kid had his own cup, he just wanted penn's cool cup with the straw, and well, i'll just say our cup was very clean . . . reluctantly, penn shared his cup.
he then played and explored for about twenty minutes, but not without glances over his shoulder to see if his cup had been released yet. finally he went up to the boy and the boy's mother said, "well, a., it is penn's juice and you have had it for a while. we should give it back to him." and they did. and then penn hit a. on the head.
not hard. no damage. just sort of a baby's way of saying, "it's about time, bitch."
a.'s mother began consoling her child who never even looked up.
i told penn not to hit and that hitting wasn't nice and we told a. we were sorry. and then penn hit me. and i told penn not to hit and that hitting wasn't nice. and then penn cried. and then penn threw a little fit. and so i took him home.
just last week at the pet store penn wouldn't share his space to let another little boy look at the birds with him. he also threw a fit there because i wouldn't let him down to chew on the cat nip.
apparently my son went and turned two without me. "terrible two's," right? isn't when this "me" stuff and "push" stuff is supposed to happen?
so now we're very sensitive to penn's behavior around other children. just today we took him to the indoor playground and a little boy tried to push him away from the round spinny thing on the wall. i quickly removed the offending child's hand from my baby's chest and said, "be gentle, please." his mother came rushing up and i immediatley thought, "oh god, what have i done, she's going to think i was mean, etc."
fortunatley she ignored me completely and scolded her son. she looked embaressed and i reassured her i was just glad it wasn't penn. ha. no. that's not funny.
except that it is. a little bit.
Jan 15, 2005
last night i went and watched the band "freakout" with my friend mary. july alley, i think, is the place we went and it took a good deal of begging for me to get in without my liscense. but, wow, i am so glad it worked! (yeah, i still got it.)
i have been utterly unsatisfied by music lately. i've been craving something new. something worthwhile. something to make me swoon or dance or turn it up. something unique. ani difranco and bob dylan seem to be the only thing i want to hear lately.
ahhh, but by the second song, "freakout" (or maybe they're called "the freakout") had me. perhaps it didn't hurt that the band before them was death metal who sang a very long song entitled "torture." i remember every word they sang. because the only word they sang was "die." perhaps anything would have sounded good after that.
but no. no, "freakout" is just absolutely, 100%, pure fun. there are five members in the band. i don't know what any of them play, really, because they all played all of the instruments at one point. and they all played them well. they passed around tamborines and cowbells to the audience who shook it like mad women.
one of the best parts of this band is their fashion sense. i SWEAR to you they are born to be rockstars. i don't know which outfit is more notable, the stripes on the johnny deppish cutie who i would so have a crush on if that were an appropriate thing for an engaged mother to do, the rolled up orange pants and faux fur vest on the tall man who's dancing is just hilariously perfect, the black vinyl bodysuit on the hand drummer that makes him look like a cute little sparkly spiderman, the one guy who looks pretty retro, and then you notice this weird fabric very cool stuff over his pants, and last, but definetly not least, oh no, i cannot forget the man wearing the floral-type patterened halter topped bell bottemed jumpsuit.
i think i'd call their music alternative punk. and for some reason they remind me of the ramones. they've only been together a year, and the second drummer has only been with them for four months. if they can stick together, they will definetly become a local favorite. i am positive i heard at least three hit songs in the set and by the end the whole crowd was dancing.
at about 2:30 we headed out to ihop for cheese fries and hot chocolate.
i had an absolute blast and didn't get to bed until 4 this morning. i have been tired and lazy all day long and i would like to thank mary for dragging me out, paying eight dollars for parking, and enhancing my vocabulary with the words "cum dumpster" and "whiskey dick."
Jan 14, 2005
usually, when i complain about my blog via my blog , whatever is broken magically gets fixed. it's like the blogger fairy comes by and waves her little wand and abracadabra! so, let me just bitch good and loud right now because i can't see my sidebar and the last picture on this blog is part of it's html, instead of the photograph.
DID YA HEAR THAT BLOGGER? YOU'RE BROKEN! now. go get fixed.
benji's second music video for innersoul records was shot from 7 in the a.m. until midnight. everyone survived, despite the fact that director benji was running on four hours of bad sleep, a coke, and a kit kat. the group is az yet, which strangely enough, i was a big fan of when i was in highschool. i even went so far as to embaress my own self by telling one of the members about this little girls night slumber party we had at my house with facials and boy talk and pictures i have somewhere . . .where we listened to the single "last night" 99 times in a row.
ahhh love. he, ummm, didn't have much to say about it, and i guess, umm, i'm grateful.
it was planned i would shoot the production stills like i did on the last video, but i had no sitter. so, i took penn and my camera and a chance.
penn is really picky when it comes to people, so when he walked up to this boy, climbed in his lap and commenced giggling, well, i knew it was love. i later realized i knew this boys parents and that he was mixed, but like penn, you don't really see the "soul" in him. benji said he had the same thought and hindsite shows that penn has an affinity for mulatos.
gina's hot. gina is what they airbrush models to look like in magazines. gina's legs alone are as tall as me. gina is wearing what i call a miracle outfit. it's a miracle it doesn't just pop off. gina is also a very nice girl. . .
. . .with sexy shoes.
unfortunatley, penn and i were at the shoot while they were shooting the extras and so i didn't get any time with az yet because it is reallyreally hard to keep a 13 month old baby from destroying an entire production set.
i did get a couple of shots of the guys on the sidelines while holding the boy, which means, i got a lot of blurry pictures. *sigh*
but here's one of the members of az yet, also the choreographer.
and so concludes another video by benji. we got lost getting to the studios and we got lost coming back and despite the four hours (i think) that penn and i were there, i didn't get any phenominal pictures of the group.
know what, though? it was really a lot of fun. worth every minute.
penn seemed to find all the energy directed at his father was cool and really wanted benji to hold him the whole time we were there. when ben couldn't and would pass him back, penn would poke that bottom lip out as far as it would go. so sad. but here they are, father and son, hard at work.
although, how hard can it be when you've got hot gina wearing the miracle outfit?
post on the video has begun and brandon, the other godfather, will be here saturday to stay three weeks with us and work with benji.
gonna be so. much. fun.
and he better bring that "speak and spell" toy he promised to penn or he's gonna be sleeping on the couch. oh wait. he's already sleeping on the couch.
Jan 13, 2005
mia, at ciao my bella, does super fantastic work. i can't believe how fast she works! seriously, yo. and she was more than patient with my uber pickiness. not only is she fast and good, but she's an awful nice person, too.
so, three thumbs up! it's cold outside and all you're doing is sitting in front of the computer anyway, so go get you a warm new blog fuzzy!
thanks to a referrel from superhuman sarah jane i have been busy taking pictures of tiny little bottles for a dallas salon. it has taught me that product photography will not be my calling.
i will go to great lengths to get a photograph i want, but i have taken what feels like a lot of tedious energy trying to get these little bottles to exist in a supreme heavenly white world without shadows and with only three lights, because one much needed bulb died on me. know what? it's hard. i don't know why it's hard, but it is.
i do know why. my white balencing isn't giving me pure white, i could put a thousand lights on these fecking bottles and i swear to god it would not be bright enough, and i'm using a macro lens without a tripod. that's why. damnit.
it's quite possible it wouldn't feel so tedious if i didn't know that there are 70 bottles coming. and you know what? 70 bottles may not be coming because i have to make sure she likes these before i truly have the job. so, even though taking 70 pictures of tiny little bottles in supreme heavenly white shadowless worlds isn't disney land, it is a challenge and a job and i am a big ole fan of both of those things.
the first photo you see is one i took for fun, but not one that she would actually use. she's looking for something more like this:
and if you were looking at this picture on an all white background it would pop out as if it were floating there in all of it's beauty promising perfection. it's supposed to, anyway.
the even bigger honor? that super human sarah jane was kind enough to recommend me. *cheesy grin*
it's even harder to take pictures of tiny white bottles in shadowless worlds when i hear deep hard coughs interrupting my childs slumber. with every horrid cough benji and i's face scrunch up into that parental somebody-please-tell-me-how-to-make-that-stop look.
last week he broke out with bumps on his face. then, couple of days ago, there was a fever. and last night he began developing a cough. i called the dr. today. each of the symptoms alone are pretty small, but i needed to know if together they equaled something bad. i told the nurse the symptoms and what i did for each of them. pretty sure i was talking to nurse jemima.
nurse jemima laughed at me. a good pancake belly laugh, and said, "giiirl, wachyou doin' callin' me for! you's know whachoo doin'. dat boy be fine." so i laughed, felt a little better, and went out for robetussin, which penn hates. and understandably so.
so, if anyone out there knows how to fix a cough, let me know. oh, and if you know of any inexpensive heaven's lying around that i could take pictures in, give me a ring.
***update: it's a go! i talked to her this morning and she loves the pictures. challenge and job won.***
Jan 11, 2005
this is a photo i took with benji's camera a good while back. i titled it "ashtray" because i'm horrid with titles. benji called it "hourglass." it was my actual ashtray. an old babyfood jar. i am aware that it is disgusting, that's why i took a picture of it, yo.
somehow, some way (e-mail, but i can't remember why now) i got in touch with katie at 3rd floor project in baltimore. she wrote me back recently asking to publish "hourglass." well, yay! the "subscribe" portion of the site isn't up yet, but when it is, i recommend all getting their copy in support of a dynamic artistic cause.
see here where little p. is taking a shower with daddy? mmmhmmm. i thought it'd be fun for the baby and i'd get out of giving the boy a bath. when i got him out and dried i let him run around naked for a minute. (actually, we just never put clothes on him ever.)
then he grabbed his snackbox out of my bag, opened it and began carefully and purposefully decorating the living room with oatmeal raisin cookies. he sucked on them just a second to make sure they'd stick good, like homemade post-it notes.
i saw him in the corner, naked, eating his cookies.
oh wait. that's not a cookie. cookies aren't orange and cookies don't have the consistency of turds. oh wait! that's an orange turd! my son is eating an orange turd. oh joy.
and so i ran to penn, screaming with delight, "you ate crap! you are eating crap! that is crap in your mouth! why are you eating crap?!" and penn giggled, because it is funny to watch mommy freak out in the living room. we always get a real kick out of it. in fact. everyone tries to do enough things to make mommy freak out in the living room at least once a day because it just so gosh darned funny.
know what else is funny? how penn danced in the pile of orange crap before he ate it. like stomping grapes, maybe. stomping crap into nice big orange stains in my newly steam cleaned carpet. i know! who could ask for more?
luckily, benji was still in the shower. i picked up penn and stuck him back in as i continued uncontrollably yelling with delight, "he ate crap!" benji's arms went into automatic as he tried to de-crap the baby in the shower. but his eyes were lost, confused and panicked. and well, we all try to do enough things to make daddy's eyes glaze over because that's as fun as mommy's freak outs in the living room.
note: carrot apple juice will make your poo poo orange
note: anything my baby does ever can be forgotten over a nice afternoon nap together.
note: the pillow cases are in the washer and that really gross stained up pillow is the work of my child's sweaty sleeping head. i would tell you if we periodiclly pissed on our pillows and then took pictures and posted them for the internet to see. promise.
Jan 8, 2005
it is two o'clock in the a.m. and benji is officially 30!
at least once a year for some grand occasion i write benji a letter. they have, in the past, been wonderful beautiful letters. (note: beautiful does not mean mushy, k?) wonderful clever words used to come to me. unfortunatley, now the only things that come to me are nursery rhymes and "mr. brown can moo, can you?" (i've that book memorized, along with a few others.)
but every year, i will contenuie to try to put into words my adoration and respect for the wonderful man that is benji and who is now also dad.
you see, penn does throw a whole new flavor onto ben. i love nothing more in the world than to watch ben and penn play, run around the house, chase, growl, play hide and seek, eat pickles, play ball and cuddle. and i love nothing more in the world than to know that ben has locked himself away in his room, away from his meddling family (penn and i) so that he can be a genius in peace.
and he is, you know. a bonafide smart man. and some soon day, the rest of the world will believe me because blockbuster or some magazine tells them to.
me? i already know. and i'll work on better ways of showing it. really i will.
i'm lucky, people. blessed, even. there is not a better life i could ask for, and what i have and who i am could not exist without the man locked away in his room right now being smart.
thank you, benji. i love you and appreciate you and adore you and have so much to learn from you. and if you say the word "divorce" one more time i swear something on you's going to get hurt.
happy birthday, baby.
Jan 7, 2005
both of us responded to his drink request. (arm raised towards kitchen, palm up) yes. the boy is likely to drink two whole glasses of milk before mommy and daddy actually rise and force their eyes and legs to work. he also got out of bed to play and got my half full glass of apple juice that i left on the coffee table, brought it into the bedroom, and drank it, messily, from the big glass!
then he crawled back into bed to do more crawling and falling on us. during this falling over the covers and pillows thing, he brought his big fat head right down on my face. a typical painful morning occurence. i swore i felt a piece of tooth in my mouth, but i swallowed it without too much investigation and went back to sleep.
when we finally got up and made breakfast i stuck my tongue on the tooth and it MOVED. it moved really far.
that boy knocked my tooth loose! REALLY loose. wiggle far back and forth loose. gonna come out any day loose. seriously. very loose.
oh well, how many teeth do you really need anyway, eh?
Jan 6, 2005
and when we walked in two of the kids said, "are you the one who took our picture?" haha. yup. that was me. the host asked if i wanted a camera (she just got the canon rebel). i don't think i actually said yes, but my eyes were lit up like christmas trees and i got to play with a cool new camera.
sadly enough the party goers were not hip to having their fun time immortalized in digital goodness. there was one lady wearing high heeled pink shoes and carrying her beer in a fur trimmed coozie. i knealt down to get a shot of her shoes and furry craziness, just as she moved her beer. i asked her if she'd put it back down where it was, just for the picture.
you'd think i had asked her to do a strip tease with the "go sooners" cake. she said, "i don't want to have my picture taken." (see also: scowl, curled lips, furrowed brow, toss of blonde hair.) she also didn't understand why anyone in the world would want to take a picture of someone's beer (ummm, because it's lined with fluffy white fur, that's why) or their shoes, or the two together.
i'm sure she's a lovely girl.
i did take the picture, but the damn thing was blurry and i didn't want to further bother her by taking another.
i don't have the pictures, but the host promises to send them to me somehow. when she does, we will talk more about the heels and coozie girl.
the two children of the household have tons of toys. they have a playroom bigger than our living room and it is jam packed with fun. one of the things they had was a magna doodle board. penn had so much fun with this, so yesterday, as i was trying to decide where penn and i could go where we wouldn't freeze our tails off, but he could still run around i opted for a stop at target to romp through the toy aisle and price magna doodle boards.
ONLY $9.99! we bought one.
best toy ever. he has drawn up a storm and here we don't have those other pesky children who get mad when penn snatches the pen out of their hands to scribble on their drawing of a car.
not only does he love love love to draw, but he also thinks it's pretty cool to drag the board around the house.
and he thought it would be cool to stick it in the toilet, so i drew him a toilet on his board. or i tried to, but he kept snatching the pen away. gonna have to work on that sharing gig.
ahhh, my little picaso.
Jan 5, 2005
and then, then you're daddy walks in and says, "hey, you smell like poop!" and then, then daddy notices i just changed your diaper and says, "wow, hope you didn't poop after mommy just chanaged your diaper."
and i will away the poop. i will it to not exist. i will my nose not to smell the poop that i know doesn't exist. and then i check. just to make sure it doesn't exist. because after all, i have to sleep with your stinky butt.
and of course, there is poop. miracle-squeezed out in seconds-and within seconds of changing your diaper-poop.
yeah. that's really cool when that happens.
Jan 3, 2005
what's it equal for mommy? a big fat "no, turn that right side up, please" and a towel. then a couple more "no's" and then a big fat "give that here, you can't have your drink anymore if you're going to be messy with it." (other obnoxious habit is filling his mouth with drink and letting it fall out of his mouth soaking himself and the carpet below him)
in order to return the rug doctor on time i had to do a hurried steam, pack it up and then lug it down three flights of stairs and through the parking lot with a baby in tow. (i had to carry it up in the rain, so i don't know why i was complaining. lesson learned. nothing you have to carry for long periods of time that practically weighs as much as you is going to be easy.) you can't imagine the groaning and cursing that pulsed through my head with each stupid step.
once through the second gate and into the parking lot i sat the baby down and tried to stuff mr. rug doctor into the trunk of my car. no easy feat. (mental note: don't try to carry bodies in my trunk without help.)
in mid juggle of the rug doctor i saw penn head for the puddle. no way could i get there in time. the baby ran and SAT down in a big deep puddle of mud and water and parking lot grease. deeee-sgusting.
i picked him up, and carried him at arms length to the car where i tried juggling rug doctors again. the baby? yeah. he went back to the puddle.
and so. i had to carry a really really dirty wet baby to the store with me. at arms length and with game face prepared for all of the "i can't believe you let your baby go out like that" stares. i stuck him immediatley in a cart when we got there, but he wanted to be held while we were there and i gave in. we were a lovely muddy mess and yes, of course, i was wearing a light cream colored shirt which now has the muddy imprint of a baby on it.
and you know what? i don't think anyone noticed.
penn officially declares today the messiest day of the year as not only where there puddles, but there were also multiple toilet playing incidents, multiple spillage on the carpet, a little of "hey can i eat your food mom?" lots of poopage, and cat food dumpings. he did brush his teeth really well though!
***sidenote: i can't see the stuff in my sidebar. can you?
we made the normal gas station pit stops for refueling, leg stretching, baby running, and beverage getting. and here is the god's honest truth. you can buy anything in a gas station.
you can buy fishing tackle, 50 pound stuffed animals, great big fat lethal knives, shot glasses, tiny glass teddy bears, t-shirts with wolves screen printed on them, stickers that say: "bet my house is faster than your car", silk flowers, beer huggies, rebel flags, ceramic eagles holding rebel flags, dolphins that light up, plastic cow skulls with indians on them, alligator heads on magnets, and most importantly, 15 inch tall fiber optic angels with mechanical flapping wings.
and here is another god's honest truth: you should DEFINETLY NOT ever EVER buy any of these things. ever. in fact, you should never buy a ceramic statue of a wolf or dolphin or dog or angel or teddy bear or eagle or anything else you might find in a gas staion. period.
it was just as i spotted the awful horrid disgusting 15 inch tall fiber optic angel with mechanical flapping wings and whose face contained the expression that said she was so sorry she was available for purchase that two women, one wearing a t-shirt with a wolf printed on it, the other with really bad bangs, went over and ogled her with serious admiration.
"oooh, ain't dat purdy! eee'd go gud wid dem other purdies i gots own ma trinket shelf." her friend with the bangs agreed. and then her friend with the bangs decided the fiber optic dolphins posed over badly airbrushed waves was of much better taste.
i stood in awe while benji tugged at my arm and repeated, "get the baby and come on." as i was getting the baby and coming on a woman and her child passed me. the woman said, "holdon, let me go luuk over der. i thought i saw me a wolf own sumpin."
inwardly i groaned. i groaned good and loud because i know that this poor tasteless woman's home is filled with wolves. ceramic wolves, wolf t-shirts, wolf flags, wolf pins, wolf posters, wolf mugs, and i wonder. i wonder if she's ever met a wolf. what happened in her life that gave her such an affinity for wolves?
what is it with the collectors? the obsessors? and why do so many of them have such bad taste? why do so many of them have dusty fake flowers sitting in plastic painted gold half pots that hang on the walls? why do so many of them have so many t-shirts with puffy paint kittens on them? how is it that their head just stops on some one bizzarre thing and then suddenly believes it is the epitome of beauty? and why then do they literally drench themselves and their houses in said thing? i just don't get it.
i know. who am i to judge. i know this. i do. but gas stations, man. i just can't help it. if gas stations are going to sell 15 inch angels with fiber optic flapping wings well, i would appreciate a little warning sign or something.