At the beginning of this summer, I decided that I would change my attitude and in some yogic state/trance/Zen moment, this phrase came to me: "embrace the heat." And I imagined myself in the hottest place possible and made myself enjoy the sensation. Lungs full of hot air, heat-induced claustrophobia, perma-sweaty hairline and all. It was a test of will and mind-over-matter that I thought I might possibly win. And, I've been doing pretty well this summer---thanks to my new philosophy---until this week and last.
115 degrees, friends. And I don't live in Arizona. The $7k a/c unit that we were forced to purchase in a similar-yet-way-less-toxic heat wave one month after our move-in date last year, (depleted our kitchen fund in one day) is trying to keep up. But alas, it has gotten up to 88 degrees in my house with the a/c running full blast. Our energy bill last month was $214 for 1780 sq ft. And that was last month. I don't think I want to be around when Mr. S (husband-o-mine) opens July's bill.
Our funky/mod '63 house with its slightly-sloped roof, exposed beams, single-paned 20 foot windows (2 of them west-facing for optimal afternoon sun), lack of attic and insulation are all conspiring against me right now.
Embrace the heat is not comforting anymore.
What are you doing to escape/embrace the heat? The best thing I can think of is a Lemonator Slurpee in a camelback, but then I'd have to get into the 150 degree car and drive to ghetto Sev-Elev....and the camelback would doubtless make me have back sweat in this inferno. No extra layers allowed!
(It's only supposed to be 111 tomorrow. That's comforting.)
7.24.2006
7.20.2006
Allergic
Warning: This post is very self-indulgent/reflective/un-intellectual (not that I'm usually an intellectual power-house, but....) and is probably utterly useless and un-interesting to the general public. But sometimes blogging is all about figuring things out and I've got some figuring to do. So read at your own risk. And please don't say that I'm the most ungrateful and selfish and blessed person on the planet. I know that already and I don't need another stranger to rain on my parade.
I've had an interesting two weeks of many allergic reactions, none of which have included food or pollen. I've basically been allergic to myself and various family members and the world in general on and off---to varying extents and with varying side effects.
I think I coined the term "allergic to myself" once when I was trying to figure out the underlying cause of a certain period of glumness. And there were too many little things that were nothing and everything all at the same time---monumental and minute---that contributed to the overall feeling of angst. Do you know what I'm talking about?
Life is such a hodge-podge of bliss, normal, gloomy, content, anxious, peaceful---repeated ad infinitum. At least for me, and I don't think I'm alone in this category. (But quite possibly on a more extreme side, since I am admittedly a titch emotional.)
Since I can remember, I've compared, evaluated, computed myself with everyone around me. I'm taller, shorter, smarter, fatter, messier, cleaner, skinnier, luckier, less spiritual, a worse mother, more scattered, more daring, whimpier, etc . . . . And I probably was comparing myself to others long before I can remember. Little Leah often makes remarks like, "I wish I had straight hair like ________" and I shudder to think that the self-doubt and loathing (?) begins that early. But it obviously does. And I don't want to blame the media (although I feel it is culpable to some degree), or other outlets in my life or in Leah's or in yours.
I'm beginning to think that self-doubt/"the allergy to self" is an inherent (programmed?) emotion in all people. Adam and Eve didn't have Vogue or Bravo or VH1. Did they always have fabulous self-esteem? Probably not. Does it matter? Probably not. Or maybe so if I'm trying to get to the bottom of this. But that's kind of a diversion....
So back to the specific allergies-----I've been really bugged at everyone (myself included) and I think I need to purge:
Global warming. It's freakin' 112 degrees in my lovely non-deseret and I started getting a little panicky the other day as I was driving and looking at all of the other cars driving
and spewing out toxic emissions. I literally started thinking about 15 years from now and the virtual wasteland my city will be if it just keeps getting hotter. And then I started planning a move to the northwest (I'll be joining you, ph!), because surely it will be the only place to live and survive (or Alaska?)----and I better buy property now because it'll be 6677788% inflated in a few years of increased global warming, when Seattle becomes the new Malibu. And I haven't even seen Al Gore's new movie yet. Maybe I shouldn't.
Husband MIA. My dear Jonnie went on his annual climbing trip with brother, dad, and friend, which left me with 2 rugrats for 4 days. And I am not good at that. I hate sleeping alone, I can't handle 2 kids on my own, and I find that I distance myself from Jon when he's ready to go on a climbing trip because I imagine his head splattered on the rocks below. And if I get the call from the Bishop or the Sheriff and I'm mad at him and distant, than the death blow won't be so deathly. But this brings up larger issues: I feel like an incompetent, whimpy mom and the comparisons sink in. I know many a mother who handles these things in stride, who doesn't skip a beat without her husband helping, who glories in all things domestic and child-involved. There are thousands of "single" mothers due to Operation Crush the Axis of Evil, having babies by themselves, dealing with health issues, the absence and sometimes death of their spouses. Not to mention the single mothers who don't even have any support whatsoever. Furthermore, the fabulous women who would love to have rugrats and make extraordinary mothers, but haven't been able to yet. And then I even feel more allergic to my sorry "A" self. But it is hard to put everything into perspective when Esther has had yet another toilet experience (this one involved the wax seal around the yet-to-be-installed new toilet, a dry erase marker, and another call to poison control, followed by her jurassic screams---all in one incident), followed by peeing on the floor, followed by dumping the remains of Leah's soggy Rice Krispies on herself and the carpet in a 5-minute blitzkrieg of staggering heights. Egads! I love the monsties, but I want to swear out loud about 50 times a day. And I don't think that's normal.
Business Overload/Motherhood Overload. I have loved every aspect of planning and executing darlybird, except for the final push. And now I've become a nazi of sorts with my time and expectations. I think Jon should view my business with equal importance to his job (which in many ways it really isn't--mainly because it doesn't provide for the welfare of our family---yet). A dear righteous mama gave me some sage advice yesterday: "if it's not fun/fulfilling for you right now and is hampering your familial relationships, slow down. something's wrong. don't push too hard." (or something along those lines--don't worry, i wasn't wire-tapping) and so now i'm taking a deep breath and setting realistic goals for myself. and I already have infused more joy and rejoicing into my life in just the last 24 hours. And cutest of cutes, Leah B just showed me a really awesome bracelet that I have yet to photograph, write about, upload, etc, and said, "Mom, I really want to wear this bracelet when I'm a mommy, mommy. Can I?" She loves looking at my products and begs to own all of them. (Yeah right! This is a business, kid!) Last week she told Jon that Darlybird makes her sad sometimes because I don't play with her as much as I used to. Why is motherhood a toxic/magical cocktail of joy, guilt, sorrow, and rejoicing? YIKES! So, I am still going strong on the darlybird front, but I will probably launch post-family-reunion-welcome-home-mom-and-dad-celebration, or in other words, August 15th. And I have to be fine about that. (even though i'm sort of not!?!) And please email me your addresses (rachel@darlybird.com) if you want to do some marketing for me!~ I'll mail you pre-stamped post cards to mail to your friends who may or may not be interested. And thanks to those of you who already have emailed me your info. I just need to make it to the p.o. now to buy scads of stamps. And then they'll be on their way.
And I think that about does it. I've pretty much depleted my allergies. And it's almost 10 and Esther has been in bed for two hours (awake) and is now screaming. This is motherhood. Thank goodness Jon is taking care of it!
A poem, quickly:
Looking up from my book, from the close countable lines,
into the finished-full night outside:
how in starry measure my packed feelings scatter,
as though a bouquet of wildflowers
were being untied:
youth of the light ones and bending sway of the heavy ones
and the tender ones' hesitant curve----
Everywhere joy in relation and nowhere any craving;
world in excess and earth sufficient.
And a fabulous quote, by the same author as the poem (Rainer Maria Rilke):
"I beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer...."
I've had an interesting two weeks of many allergic reactions, none of which have included food or pollen. I've basically been allergic to myself and various family members and the world in general on and off---to varying extents and with varying side effects.
I think I coined the term "allergic to myself" once when I was trying to figure out the underlying cause of a certain period of glumness. And there were too many little things that were nothing and everything all at the same time---monumental and minute---that contributed to the overall feeling of angst. Do you know what I'm talking about?
Life is such a hodge-podge of bliss, normal, gloomy, content, anxious, peaceful---repeated ad infinitum. At least for me, and I don't think I'm alone in this category. (But quite possibly on a more extreme side, since I am admittedly a titch emotional.)
Since I can remember, I've compared, evaluated, computed myself with everyone around me. I'm taller, shorter, smarter, fatter, messier, cleaner, skinnier, luckier, less spiritual, a worse mother, more scattered, more daring, whimpier, etc . . . . And I probably was comparing myself to others long before I can remember. Little Leah often makes remarks like, "I wish I had straight hair like ________" and I shudder to think that the self-doubt and loathing (?) begins that early. But it obviously does. And I don't want to blame the media (although I feel it is culpable to some degree), or other outlets in my life or in Leah's or in yours.
I'm beginning to think that self-doubt/"the allergy to self" is an inherent (programmed?) emotion in all people. Adam and Eve didn't have Vogue or Bravo or VH1. Did they always have fabulous self-esteem? Probably not. Does it matter? Probably not. Or maybe so if I'm trying to get to the bottom of this. But that's kind of a diversion....
So back to the specific allergies-----I've been really bugged at everyone (myself included) and I think I need to purge:
Global warming. It's freakin' 112 degrees in my lovely non-deseret and I started getting a little panicky the other day as I was driving and looking at all of the other cars driving
and spewing out toxic emissions. I literally started thinking about 15 years from now and the virtual wasteland my city will be if it just keeps getting hotter. And then I started planning a move to the northwest (I'll be joining you, ph!), because surely it will be the only place to live and survive (or Alaska?)----and I better buy property now because it'll be 6677788% inflated in a few years of increased global warming, when Seattle becomes the new Malibu. And I haven't even seen Al Gore's new movie yet. Maybe I shouldn't.
Husband MIA. My dear Jonnie went on his annual climbing trip with brother, dad, and friend, which left me with 2 rugrats for 4 days. And I am not good at that. I hate sleeping alone, I can't handle 2 kids on my own, and I find that I distance myself from Jon when he's ready to go on a climbing trip because I imagine his head splattered on the rocks below. And if I get the call from the Bishop or the Sheriff and I'm mad at him and distant, than the death blow won't be so deathly. But this brings up larger issues: I feel like an incompetent, whimpy mom and the comparisons sink in. I know many a mother who handles these things in stride, who doesn't skip a beat without her husband helping, who glories in all things domestic and child-involved. There are thousands of "single" mothers due to Operation Crush the Axis of Evil, having babies by themselves, dealing with health issues, the absence and sometimes death of their spouses. Not to mention the single mothers who don't even have any support whatsoever. Furthermore, the fabulous women who would love to have rugrats and make extraordinary mothers, but haven't been able to yet. And then I even feel more allergic to my sorry "A" self. But it is hard to put everything into perspective when Esther has had yet another toilet experience (this one involved the wax seal around the yet-to-be-installed new toilet, a dry erase marker, and another call to poison control, followed by her jurassic screams---all in one incident), followed by peeing on the floor, followed by dumping the remains of Leah's soggy Rice Krispies on herself and the carpet in a 5-minute blitzkrieg of staggering heights. Egads! I love the monsties, but I want to swear out loud about 50 times a day. And I don't think that's normal.
Business Overload/Motherhood Overload. I have loved every aspect of planning and executing darlybird, except for the final push. And now I've become a nazi of sorts with my time and expectations. I think Jon should view my business with equal importance to his job (which in many ways it really isn't--mainly because it doesn't provide for the welfare of our family---yet). A dear righteous mama gave me some sage advice yesterday: "if it's not fun/fulfilling for you right now and is hampering your familial relationships, slow down. something's wrong. don't push too hard." (or something along those lines--don't worry, i wasn't wire-tapping) and so now i'm taking a deep breath and setting realistic goals for myself. and I already have infused more joy and rejoicing into my life in just the last 24 hours. And cutest of cutes, Leah B just showed me a really awesome bracelet that I have yet to photograph, write about, upload, etc, and said, "Mom, I really want to wear this bracelet when I'm a mommy, mommy. Can I?" She loves looking at my products and begs to own all of them. (Yeah right! This is a business, kid!) Last week she told Jon that Darlybird makes her sad sometimes because I don't play with her as much as I used to. Why is motherhood a toxic/magical cocktail of joy, guilt, sorrow, and rejoicing? YIKES! So, I am still going strong on the darlybird front, but I will probably launch post-family-reunion-welcome-home-mom-and-dad-celebration, or in other words, August 15th. And I have to be fine about that. (even though i'm sort of not!?!) And please email me your addresses (rachel@darlybird.com) if you want to do some marketing for me!~ I'll mail you pre-stamped post cards to mail to your friends who may or may not be interested. And thanks to those of you who already have emailed me your info. I just need to make it to the p.o. now to buy scads of stamps. And then they'll be on their way.
And I think that about does it. I've pretty much depleted my allergies. And it's almost 10 and Esther has been in bed for two hours (awake) and is now screaming. This is motherhood. Thank goodness Jon is taking care of it!
A poem, quickly:
Looking up from my book, from the close countable lines,
into the finished-full night outside:
how in starry measure my packed feelings scatter,
as though a bouquet of wildflowers
were being untied:
youth of the light ones and bending sway of the heavy ones
and the tender ones' hesitant curve----
Everywhere joy in relation and nowhere any craving;
world in excess and earth sufficient.
And a fabulous quote, by the same author as the poem (Rainer Maria Rilke):
"I beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer...."
7.11.2006
Many Random Things
Jon and I just ended a 7-week period of pretty much constant visitors or house-guests. Although I must admit that it does feel nice to reclaim our domain, I also have this feeling of "uh-oh, when are we gonna get more friends in here?" I love friends. I love visitors. So I'm pimpin' our pad out to a few specific individuals (mainly in my family), and you're all welcome, too. Unless you're a greasy 65 year-old cyberstalker on the Megan's Law list.
***************************************************************************************
I also must admit that I almost cried at the end of my new favorite movie. Not because it was sad or terribly moving, but because it was OVER! So I realized that if I liked it enough to mourn the ending, I better plug it publicly. That movie is: LONG WAY ROUND. Let me tell you the general premise:
Ewan McGregor and his buddy Charlie drive around the world on motorcycles. That's it. But it's so amazing to see their adventures and their pitfalls and especially the interesting people they come across---especially in Kazakstan (which I'm sure I just misspelled) and Mongolia and Russia. It is a documentary, essentially, with 7 episodes. I netflix-ed it. You must netflix it. It is freakin' hilarous in many parts. And suspenseful and crazy. But beware---they're from the UK and they drop the f-bomb several times, so if you're language-sensitive, just pretend they're saying something else. It's not rated and even if it was I would deem it worth bending rules.
One more thing: Long Way Round cemented my crush on Ewan. I have been holding out a candle for him since Moulin Rouge (I think Obi Wan is HIDEOUS, so not that Ewan) and I just had to tell myself that the real Ewan wasn't that cool. But he is. He is a sensitive new-age man. Jon knows about my crush and has admitted to having one on him, too. So it's all good.
*********************************************************************************
Random Business Plugs:
My friend Emily Ann a.k.a. Eroo has started making the super-coolist bracelets. She has a blog devoted to them. And I'm going to link to it as soon as I remember the correct url. Just a second. OK. Here they are! I have the vintage luggage tag with gold metallic accents and the comic book one. What's yours going to have?
My sister Susannah is starting a super-cool clothing line called Pronk. You can read all about it. She uses exquisite materials and there is a ton of hand stitching, embroidery, smocking, etc. on the items. They are manufactured in Madagascar. They are amazing. They would fit well in Anthropologie, if you like that style. Not Target. Not Forever 21. Not some hoochie boutique. These are quality items, friends. And beautiful.
And oh yeah, I'm almost ready to start taking orders on darlybird the biz. I'm excited and slightly nervous. But I think it's lookin' good. You can email me product suggestions, or just any other suggestions at rachel@darlybird.com
*************************************************************************************
Lastly but not leastly, my parents are returning from Madagascar via Paris on Thursday after 3 long years there. They did an amazing job as mission presidents and they are DONE! And hallelujah for that!
***************************************************************************************
I also must admit that I almost cried at the end of my new favorite movie. Not because it was sad or terribly moving, but because it was OVER! So I realized that if I liked it enough to mourn the ending, I better plug it publicly. That movie is: LONG WAY ROUND. Let me tell you the general premise:
Ewan McGregor and his buddy Charlie drive around the world on motorcycles. That's it. But it's so amazing to see their adventures and their pitfalls and especially the interesting people they come across---especially in Kazakstan (which I'm sure I just misspelled) and Mongolia and Russia. It is a documentary, essentially, with 7 episodes. I netflix-ed it. You must netflix it. It is freakin' hilarous in many parts. And suspenseful and crazy. But beware---they're from the UK and they drop the f-bomb several times, so if you're language-sensitive, just pretend they're saying something else. It's not rated and even if it was I would deem it worth bending rules.
One more thing: Long Way Round cemented my crush on Ewan. I have been holding out a candle for him since Moulin Rouge (I think Obi Wan is HIDEOUS, so not that Ewan) and I just had to tell myself that the real Ewan wasn't that cool. But he is. He is a sensitive new-age man. Jon knows about my crush and has admitted to having one on him, too. So it's all good.
*********************************************************************************
Random Business Plugs:
My friend Emily Ann a.k.a. Eroo has started making the super-coolist bracelets. She has a blog devoted to them. And I'm going to link to it as soon as I remember the correct url. Just a second. OK. Here they are! I have the vintage luggage tag with gold metallic accents and the comic book one. What's yours going to have?
My sister Susannah is starting a super-cool clothing line called Pronk. You can read all about it. She uses exquisite materials and there is a ton of hand stitching, embroidery, smocking, etc. on the items. They are manufactured in Madagascar. They are amazing. They would fit well in Anthropologie, if you like that style. Not Target. Not Forever 21. Not some hoochie boutique. These are quality items, friends. And beautiful.
And oh yeah, I'm almost ready to start taking orders on darlybird the biz. I'm excited and slightly nervous. But I think it's lookin' good. You can email me product suggestions, or just any other suggestions at rachel@darlybird.com
*************************************************************************************
Lastly but not leastly, my parents are returning from Madagascar via Paris on Thursday after 3 long years there. They did an amazing job as mission presidents and they are DONE! And hallelujah for that!
6.29.2006
30 is bonafide
So yesterday was my birthday. 30. I don't know why, but I felt it necessary to tell almost everyone--including complete strangers--that I was 30. Leah's preschool teacher found out, the bagger at Safeway who wheeled my cart out to the car, and Elmer at DI who tried to console me after the fabulous mid-century couch that I came back to buy had been snatched up just 30 minutes prior. I didn't earn the nickname "emotional slut" way back when for nothing. Actually, I gave myself that nickname, but it caught on like wildfire around the inner sanctum.
I've never really dreaded these turning points. I know people who sobbed on their 30th because they felt some sort of loss and the need to grieve. I am happily saying 'hasta' to the 20s and the many interesting experiences of them. My 20s weren't bad, in fact they were a downright monumental decade (college, marriage, teaching career, two children, homes, starting a business), but I'm ready to settle into the 30s and realize that I probably won't have as many life-altering changes in this decade as I did in the last. And that is comforting, because although I crave and relish the little changes in life (hairstyle, furnishings, restaurant choice, etc.), I could win the WORLD'S LEAST GRACEFUL LIFE CHANGER award hands down.
I have a fabulous friend/soul sister/sister in Zion who turned 30 last month. She made it a beautiful and thoughtful occasion. She thought about what she wanted to do (i.e. have kids, make delicious food, buy a house) in the future and then celebrated each goal symbolically. I didn't have the forethought to make mine so amazing, but that's okay because it turned out pretty great anyway.
Although Jonnie decided that birthday week was preposterous, he surprised me with "birthday 3 days." So I received a beautiful bouquet of roses on Tuesday, a 4 gig nano ipod and the nicest card he's ever written me on Wednesday, and I think today is See's Chocolates. (Hoping, hoping, hoping.) I like 3 days for thirty. Maybe I'll get birthday week when I turn 70 . . .
Yesterday I talked to/spent time with many of my favorite people--you know who you are--and I think I kind of had this little smile inside all day, knowing that I had a secret----actually, it wasn't quite a secret because I felt obliged to tell everyone and their . . . , but you get the picture. It was cause for continual internal smile.
In the spirit of retrospection, I thought about some of my experiences over the last 3 decades and realized that I've experienced some amazing adventures, beautiful friendships, intense trials, hilarious escapades, and the comfort of a wonderful family from whom I came and a wonderful family of which I am co-captain. It's been a good 30 years. I have been abundantly blessed. Thanks!
And so 30. I woke up this morning and felt pretty grown up, but still pretty young. I'm legit, but I still have a few free-passes to be slightly foolish. No longer a 20-something wanderer? I feel re-inspired to live life to the fullest, and be deliberate in all of my actions. It's nice.
So I'm taking a deep breath and ushering in a new decade of renewed and continuing relationships, healthy lifestyle choices (although I don't think I'll be giving up my diet pepsi habit any time soon), deliberate decisions, exciting adventures, and renewed spirituality. It's refreshing. And although I'm perfectly pleased to be living in the here and now, I can't help but look a little forward to "birthday 4 days" celebration and what life will look like from that vantage point. Isn't life exciting?
I've never really dreaded these turning points. I know people who sobbed on their 30th because they felt some sort of loss and the need to grieve. I am happily saying 'hasta' to the 20s and the many interesting experiences of them. My 20s weren't bad, in fact they were a downright monumental decade (college, marriage, teaching career, two children, homes, starting a business), but I'm ready to settle into the 30s and realize that I probably won't have as many life-altering changes in this decade as I did in the last. And that is comforting, because although I crave and relish the little changes in life (hairstyle, furnishings, restaurant choice, etc.), I could win the WORLD'S LEAST GRACEFUL LIFE CHANGER award hands down.
I have a fabulous friend/soul sister/sister in Zion who turned 30 last month. She made it a beautiful and thoughtful occasion. She thought about what she wanted to do (i.e. have kids, make delicious food, buy a house) in the future and then celebrated each goal symbolically. I didn't have the forethought to make mine so amazing, but that's okay because it turned out pretty great anyway.
Although Jonnie decided that birthday week was preposterous, he surprised me with "birthday 3 days." So I received a beautiful bouquet of roses on Tuesday, a 4 gig nano ipod and the nicest card he's ever written me on Wednesday, and I think today is See's Chocolates. (Hoping, hoping, hoping.) I like 3 days for thirty. Maybe I'll get birthday week when I turn 70 . . .
Yesterday I talked to/spent time with many of my favorite people--you know who you are--and I think I kind of had this little smile inside all day, knowing that I had a secret----actually, it wasn't quite a secret because I felt obliged to tell everyone and their . . . , but you get the picture. It was cause for continual internal smile.
In the spirit of retrospection, I thought about some of my experiences over the last 3 decades and realized that I've experienced some amazing adventures, beautiful friendships, intense trials, hilarious escapades, and the comfort of a wonderful family from whom I came and a wonderful family of which I am co-captain. It's been a good 30 years. I have been abundantly blessed. Thanks!
And so 30. I woke up this morning and felt pretty grown up, but still pretty young. I'm legit, but I still have a few free-passes to be slightly foolish. No longer a 20-something wanderer? I feel re-inspired to live life to the fullest, and be deliberate in all of my actions. It's nice.
So I'm taking a deep breath and ushering in a new decade of renewed and continuing relationships, healthy lifestyle choices (although I don't think I'll be giving up my diet pepsi habit any time soon), deliberate decisions, exciting adventures, and renewed spirituality. It's refreshing. And although I'm perfectly pleased to be living in the here and now, I can't help but look a little forward to "birthday 4 days" celebration and what life will look like from that vantage point. Isn't life exciting?
6.26.2006
6.25.2006
Razor Blades and Birthday Week
Just a quickie. I have to capture one of Esther's more insane maneuvers in her whole lifetime from just this week:
I'm working on the computer, Jon is doing dishes. Leah is playing Pollys or ponies or Groovy Girls or making a CareBear motorhome out of blocks, and Esther, who doesn't really like to play, but rather explore and terrorize, was doing the usual. And since the only bathroom that currently has a toilet installed was closed up tight, I thought all was well in the universe . . .
Until I heard Jon scream bloody murder. He never screams, let alone a bloody scream. And then he said, "ESTHER HAS RAZOR BLADES!" My first thought? "What in the hell?" (Long e on 'the'---it sounds more deliberate and white trash.) I ran from the "office" to the scene of doom. Blood pools everywhere. Esther screaming. Four five-inch razor blades, covered in blood, on the floor. Me lightheaded and wondering if my child is going to bleed to death right then and right there. Is this 9-1-1 worthy? Jon says no.
I quickly got some slightly damp rags and we each took a hand and held her in a vice clamp (legs wrapped around her squirrely body) and applied direct pressure to her four bloody fingers. For one whole hour. They would NOT stop bleeding. Somewhere in that process I told Jon I had to leave for a few minutes. (Things like this make my anxiety issues flare--just a tad, let's say--and it brings out the 'flight' reflex in me.)
So, all's well that ends well. Esther's fingers finally stopped bleeding long enough for us to put some bandages on them. She stopped crying, and we were able to get her to sleep. She slept like a rock after the trauma of the incident.
And why, you may ask, did an 18 month old have access to five-inch razor blades? She's a rascal. And we're (Jon?) careless. During our bathroom remodel---which hasn't seen any action in over two weeks---"we" used razor blades and left them in a pretty accessible place. OOPS! Good thing it was just 4 fingers!
Funny sidenote: While this was all happening, our very concerned and very agro Stake Primary President called and left a message asking why I wasn't at a meeting that I was supposed to be at and had NO intention of going to. I didn't take the call because I was preoccupied, but after everything was taken care of, I called her back and left a short message on her cell, which I later realized seemed a little creepy: "Hi, J. I'm sorry I didn't make it to the meeting, but my daughter just cut herself with razor blades and I had to take care of that." Sure enough, I got a consolation phone call a few minutes later, in which I cleared everything up. Made for a dramatic excuse.
And then, because it was 106 freakin' degrees here, we drove to Monterey. Actually, it was just a coincidence that it was 106 degrees and Monterey was a balmy and beautiful 60-80 degrees. The real reason we went to Monterey for two nights? It's birthday week for yours truly. And not just ANY birthday. The dawning of a new decade. I'm turning 30. (Wait, do you not start the new decade until you're 31? I remember the whole Millenium debacle when everyone kept saying, "Actually, the new millenium doesn't start until 2001." I always wanted to say, "who in the--long e--hell cares? Let us have our excitement, ex lax." Or something of that nature. So, if you were thinking, "it technically isn't a new decade until you're 31" (or is it? i'm still totally confused), repeat the question about 3 or 4 sentences back and you'll see how much I care about your trivia.) Wow. That was abusive and downright negative. So birthday week begins, and I think I'm the only one celebrating. I told Jon of my birthday week idea, and he thinks it's absolutely preposterous. Well, too bad, because I'm just going to have to pamper myself since he won't. And I'm decent at that.
By the way, Monterey was beautiful, Carmel? fabulous----if you haven't been there, please GO. And our friends we got to see? Welcoming, hospitable, and very very very fun. (Hi Lolly Girl, miss you already!)
So don't cry for me Argentina, about razor blades or the jon's lack of commitment to birthday week, because I went to Monterey and that will keep me refreshed for about 8.5 hours from now, when I have to wake up and take care of the screaming gypsies (my lovely daughters). Woe is my wonderful life! Waaa, waaaa, waaaaa............................
oh yeah, one more thing: please join my prayers that we didn't get poison oak on our Point Lobos nature walks this morning. Leah and I were touching and naming all of the wildflowers we saw: "puffer bellies," "spikey soft," "purple dragon," "orange dragon," "white dragon," "yellow dragon" (do you see a pattern here?) until the cute little docent man showed us what poison oak looked like and we realized that it was the majority of plantlife on our hikes. I am itching, but praying that it is more of a mental state than a physical one.
*I just re-read sentence number one: "just a quicky." Oops. Guess I'm longwinded tonite.
I'm working on the computer, Jon is doing dishes. Leah is playing Pollys or ponies or Groovy Girls or making a CareBear motorhome out of blocks, and Esther, who doesn't really like to play, but rather explore and terrorize, was doing the usual. And since the only bathroom that currently has a toilet installed was closed up tight, I thought all was well in the universe . . .
Until I heard Jon scream bloody murder. He never screams, let alone a bloody scream. And then he said, "ESTHER HAS RAZOR BLADES!" My first thought? "What in the hell?" (Long e on 'the'---it sounds more deliberate and white trash.) I ran from the "office" to the scene of doom. Blood pools everywhere. Esther screaming. Four five-inch razor blades, covered in blood, on the floor. Me lightheaded and wondering if my child is going to bleed to death right then and right there. Is this 9-1-1 worthy? Jon says no.
I quickly got some slightly damp rags and we each took a hand and held her in a vice clamp (legs wrapped around her squirrely body) and applied direct pressure to her four bloody fingers. For one whole hour. They would NOT stop bleeding. Somewhere in that process I told Jon I had to leave for a few minutes. (Things like this make my anxiety issues flare--just a tad, let's say--and it brings out the 'flight' reflex in me.)
So, all's well that ends well. Esther's fingers finally stopped bleeding long enough for us to put some bandages on them. She stopped crying, and we were able to get her to sleep. She slept like a rock after the trauma of the incident.
And why, you may ask, did an 18 month old have access to five-inch razor blades? She's a rascal. And we're (Jon?) careless. During our bathroom remodel---which hasn't seen any action in over two weeks---"we" used razor blades and left them in a pretty accessible place. OOPS! Good thing it was just 4 fingers!
Funny sidenote: While this was all happening, our very concerned and very agro Stake Primary President called and left a message asking why I wasn't at a meeting that I was supposed to be at and had NO intention of going to. I didn't take the call because I was preoccupied, but after everything was taken care of, I called her back and left a short message on her cell, which I later realized seemed a little creepy: "Hi, J. I'm sorry I didn't make it to the meeting, but my daughter just cut herself with razor blades and I had to take care of that." Sure enough, I got a consolation phone call a few minutes later, in which I cleared everything up. Made for a dramatic excuse.
And then, because it was 106 freakin' degrees here, we drove to Monterey. Actually, it was just a coincidence that it was 106 degrees and Monterey was a balmy and beautiful 60-80 degrees. The real reason we went to Monterey for two nights? It's birthday week for yours truly. And not just ANY birthday. The dawning of a new decade. I'm turning 30. (Wait, do you not start the new decade until you're 31? I remember the whole Millenium debacle when everyone kept saying, "Actually, the new millenium doesn't start until 2001." I always wanted to say, "who in the--long e--hell cares? Let us have our excitement, ex lax." Or something of that nature. So, if you were thinking, "it technically isn't a new decade until you're 31" (or is it? i'm still totally confused), repeat the question about 3 or 4 sentences back and you'll see how much I care about your trivia.) Wow. That was abusive and downright negative. So birthday week begins, and I think I'm the only one celebrating. I told Jon of my birthday week idea, and he thinks it's absolutely preposterous. Well, too bad, because I'm just going to have to pamper myself since he won't. And I'm decent at that.
By the way, Monterey was beautiful, Carmel? fabulous----if you haven't been there, please GO. And our friends we got to see? Welcoming, hospitable, and very very very fun. (Hi Lolly Girl, miss you already!)
So don't cry for me Argentina, about razor blades or the jon's lack of commitment to birthday week, because I went to Monterey and that will keep me refreshed for about 8.5 hours from now, when I have to wake up and take care of the screaming gypsies (my lovely daughters). Woe is my wonderful life! Waaa, waaaa, waaaaa............................
oh yeah, one more thing: please join my prayers that we didn't get poison oak on our Point Lobos nature walks this morning. Leah and I were touching and naming all of the wildflowers we saw: "puffer bellies," "spikey soft," "purple dragon," "orange dragon," "white dragon," "yellow dragon" (do you see a pattern here?) until the cute little docent man showed us what poison oak looked like and we realized that it was the majority of plantlife on our hikes. I am itching, but praying that it is more of a mental state than a physical one.
*I just re-read sentence number one: "just a quicky." Oops. Guess I'm longwinded tonite.
6.18.2006
The REAL Darlybird
I just sent several of you an email asking for a small "business" favor. But I don't have many of your email addresses, so I'm going to post my email here to see if any of you want to aid me in my venture. If you want a cute postcard sent to your home, or you know of someone who would like a cute postcard sent to their home, drop me a line with contact info at rachel@darlybird.com
(Please? Thanks.)
HERE'S the email:
Hi Friends~
I think most of you know that I am well on my way to launching my online business, Darlybird. I am writing for a couple of reasons:
1) To let you know that I'm getting there....my "office" can attest to it---boxes upon boxes upon boxes of merchandise. Really cool stuff. It's exciting.
2) Many of you have been my most ardent supporters along the way and have asked if you could ever do anything to help me. Well, here's where I'm going to ask a small favor. But please, oh please, don't feel obligated or bad about this in ANY way. I detest all pyramid schemes, and I'm not good at fulfilling chain letters, so know that I kind of dread this whole pimping-my-business-out process. If you are just too busy to answer this email, that's fine. I'm cool like that. (in my most gansta accent...)
I just ordered 2500 postcards and I want to start sending them out. I have attached a pdf of the design (thanks, Martha for your hard work!) Basically, I would love to send you a postcard, and either a) get the names/addresses of some of your friends/family/contacts that you think would be interested in fun, funky, functional (whoa, that's a lot of funs) products that are well designed, mostly VERY affordable, and unique or b) send you some pre-stamped postcards for you to send out yourself, if you'd rather do it that way.
Either way or no way, I love you all and hope things are going well for you if I haven't talked to you in awhile.
Take care,
RHS
And the image is actually two drafts of the same thing.....I just didn't have a separated jpg copy to post and I don't know if you can post pdf files on blogger?
Also, Darlybird technically has not landed, so don't be surprised if you go to the url and see "website under construction." Hopefully that will change in a few short weeks. (Fingers crossed.)
And, I assume that I don't know some of you . . . I don't need to know you to send a postcard to you. So email me.
(Please? Thanks.)
HERE'S the email:
Hi Friends~
I think most of you know that I am well on my way to launching my online business, Darlybird. I am writing for a couple of reasons:
1) To let you know that I'm getting there....my "office" can attest to it---boxes upon boxes upon boxes of merchandise. Really cool stuff. It's exciting.
2) Many of you have been my most ardent supporters along the way and have asked if you could ever do anything to help me. Well, here's where I'm going to ask a small favor. But please, oh please, don't feel obligated or bad about this in ANY way. I detest all pyramid schemes, and I'm not good at fulfilling chain letters, so know that I kind of dread this whole pimping-my-business-out process. If you are just too busy to answer this email, that's fine. I'm cool like that. (in my most gansta accent...)
I just ordered 2500 postcards and I want to start sending them out. I have attached a pdf of the design (thanks, Martha for your hard work!) Basically, I would love to send you a postcard, and either a) get the names/addresses of some of your friends/family/contacts that you think would be interested in fun, funky, functional (whoa, that's a lot of funs) products that are well designed, mostly VERY affordable, and unique or b) send you some pre-stamped postcards for you to send out yourself, if you'd rather do it that way.
Either way or no way, I love you all and hope things are going well for you if I haven't talked to you in awhile.
Take care,
RHS
And the image is actually two drafts of the same thing.....I just didn't have a separated jpg copy to post and I don't know if you can post pdf files on blogger?
Also, Darlybird technically has not landed, so don't be surprised if you go to the url and see "website under construction." Hopefully that will change in a few short weeks. (Fingers crossed.)
And, I assume that I don't know some of you . . . I don't need to know you to send a postcard to you. So email me.
6.15.2006
Update on Estie
So, Jon just got home. Estie giggled her little guts out when she heard his voice entering the house. I explained what had happened, and J said, "did she put the whole roll of toilet paper in the toilet? because she already did that this morning." (while I was sick and sleeping.)
and just in case you're interested, here's a link to heath's overstock tile, complete with a listing of colors/sizes/finishes. drool, fools!
http://heathceramics.com/heath_pdfs/tileoverstock.pdf
and just in case you're interested, here's a link to heath's overstock tile, complete with a listing of colors/sizes/finishes. drool, fools!
http://heathceramics.com/heath_pdfs/tileoverstock.pdf
Scuzzy Bathroom #2 NO MORE!
A week and a half ago, my Jonnie got a new job. He told his firm two weeks ago Friday, and they didn't want to talk about it till Monday. On Monday at 3:30, he tracked down the partner he was supposed to chat with to see how long they wanted him to stay, etc. He called me a few minutes later to say that he was packing up his office and coming home from that firm for the last time as soon as his office was dismantled. Hmmmmm, I thought.....what can I have him do before he starts new firm next Monday?
RIP OUT SCUZZY BATHROOM #2, OF COURSE
and rip it out, he did. and now, it's well on it's way to being a muy fabuloso bathroom instead of scuzzy bathroom #2.
Let me tell you a bit about scuzzy bathroom #2:
1) It had carpet
2) No matter what you did, it had a slight scent of pee (prior owners included 4 of the male persuasion)
QUICK INTERRUPTION:
I will now explain to you why I don't blog as often as I used to:
Esther came into my "office" all wet a few seconds ago. Hmmm, I thought. This is fishy. I walked into the family room, and saw an overturned bowl with the remains of vanilla soy milk dumped out if it. Ah ha! You little stinker, you! And then I happened to glance at the floor and down the hall. Wet clumps of toilet paper. Uh oh! I could've sworn that I closed the bathroom door. Nope. Open. More wet clumps of toilet paper all over said floor. And then I peak into the toilet:
A green froggy bowl from Ikea, a stainless steel spoon from Crate and Barrel, and more clumps of t.p. I grabbed the little monsty and set her in her crib. Lucky thing, cause I found the rest of the brand new toilet paper roll, sopping wet in the middle of her little flower rug. And more clumps.
She's still in her crib. With just a diaper. And if things go as well as they did on this day, I'm going to be loving life in a few minutes. But I just can't get her and clean up the mess. I have strep throat (for the second time in 3 months) and I think that earns me a GET-OUT-OF-CLEANING-UP-ESTHER'S-HUGE-MESS pass, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Don't you? Thank goodness Jon got a new job and they're amenable to alternative work schedules. Guess who's on his happy way home right now? You guessed it. He'll have a nice clean-up surprise waiting for his arrival.
Back to number 3:
3) Beautiful faux marble countertop (gray and white) for the "I'm not rich, but I'm trying" effect.
4) A toxic shower made of laminated particle board--or something close to it--complete with orange mold that wouldn't go away, a broken glass door, and the most disgusting track (for the door).
I still think that a carpeted bathroom is about the dumbest thing on the planet.
So now, I'll tell you what we've/Jon [has] done:
--Tiled the shower with white honeycomb tile
--Tiled the floor with variagated seafoom-ish tile from Heath Ceramics (supposedly one of the best and most artistic tile companies in America--I heard it from a very in-the-know realtor)---I went to their factory in Sausalito and bought overstock for $5 sq ft instead of $27.
--Spent a load of moolah at Home Depot Expo on the prettiest, sleekest vanity and faucet and matching showerhead/handle for the shower.
--Bought a new toilet that supposedly can flush 30 golf balls at once. HALLELUJAH!
--Spent hours looking at our beautiful half-finished non-scuzzy bathroom. Even if we never finished it and made it functional, it's still better than when it was scuzzy bathroom #2.
I'll post pictures when we're done.
I better go check on the Monsty. I hear interesting noises from the bedroom.
RIP OUT SCUZZY BATHROOM #2, OF COURSE
and rip it out, he did. and now, it's well on it's way to being a muy fabuloso bathroom instead of scuzzy bathroom #2.
Let me tell you a bit about scuzzy bathroom #2:
1) It had carpet
2) No matter what you did, it had a slight scent of pee (prior owners included 4 of the male persuasion)
QUICK INTERRUPTION:
I will now explain to you why I don't blog as often as I used to:
Esther came into my "office" all wet a few seconds ago. Hmmm, I thought. This is fishy. I walked into the family room, and saw an overturned bowl with the remains of vanilla soy milk dumped out if it. Ah ha! You little stinker, you! And then I happened to glance at the floor and down the hall. Wet clumps of toilet paper. Uh oh! I could've sworn that I closed the bathroom door. Nope. Open. More wet clumps of toilet paper all over said floor. And then I peak into the toilet:
A green froggy bowl from Ikea, a stainless steel spoon from Crate and Barrel, and more clumps of t.p. I grabbed the little monsty and set her in her crib. Lucky thing, cause I found the rest of the brand new toilet paper roll, sopping wet in the middle of her little flower rug. And more clumps.
She's still in her crib. With just a diaper. And if things go as well as they did on this day, I'm going to be loving life in a few minutes. But I just can't get her and clean up the mess. I have strep throat (for the second time in 3 months) and I think that earns me a GET-OUT-OF-CLEANING-UP-ESTHER'S-HUGE-MESS pass, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Don't you? Thank goodness Jon got a new job and they're amenable to alternative work schedules. Guess who's on his happy way home right now? You guessed it. He'll have a nice clean-up surprise waiting for his arrival.
Back to number 3:
3) Beautiful faux marble countertop (gray and white) for the "I'm not rich, but I'm trying" effect.
4) A toxic shower made of laminated particle board--or something close to it--complete with orange mold that wouldn't go away, a broken glass door, and the most disgusting track (for the door).
I still think that a carpeted bathroom is about the dumbest thing on the planet.
So now, I'll tell you what we've/Jon [has] done:
--Tiled the shower with white honeycomb tile
--Tiled the floor with variagated seafoom-ish tile from Heath Ceramics (supposedly one of the best and most artistic tile companies in America--I heard it from a very in-the-know realtor)---I went to their factory in Sausalito and bought overstock for $5 sq ft instead of $27.
--Spent a load of moolah at Home Depot Expo on the prettiest, sleekest vanity and faucet and matching showerhead/handle for the shower.
--Bought a new toilet that supposedly can flush 30 golf balls at once. HALLELUJAH!
--Spent hours looking at our beautiful half-finished non-scuzzy bathroom. Even if we never finished it and made it functional, it's still better than when it was scuzzy bathroom #2.
I'll post pictures when we're done.
I better go check on the Monsty. I hear interesting noises from the bedroom.
6.13.2006
What the heck?
Take a look at this scientific finding:
http://dsc.discovery.com/news/briefs/20060612/sperm_hea.html?source=rss
And I thought they were just dumb swimmers.
http://dsc.discovery.com/news/briefs/20060612/sperm_hea.html?source=rss
And I thought they were just dumb swimmers.
Leah's Prayer
Leah: "Dear H.F., Thank you for this day. Thank you for our dinner----wait, I don't have any dinner yet!"
Me: "Keep praying. It's coming."
Leah: "Wahoo! Thank you for my dinner. Please bless Bryce. Please bless June. In the name of . . . . . . . Amen!"
Me: "Keep praying. It's coming."
Leah: "Wahoo! Thank you for my dinner. Please bless Bryce. Please bless June. In the name of . . . . . . . Amen!"
5.31.2006
And then there were 7s....
I was tagged by the Queen....so here goes:
7 Things I Want to Do Before I Die:
1.Live a long life with my husband and kiddos.
2. Have a fabulously modern home built for me, husband, kiddos.
3. Stay at Hotel Julen in Zermatt again (1000+thread count sheets....and the best fresh raspberry yogurt in the morning)
4. See children grow and raise their own children.
5. Go on a mission with Jonnie.
6. Climb El Cap
7. Go on lots of fun trips.
7 Things I Cannot Do:
1. Do underwater kick turns in the pool. (Ph, when's my free lesson?)
2. Keep my house clean for more than 15 minutes.
3. Feed my kids mac-n-cheese, crackers, yogurt, pb-n-j, string cheese, and most other kid-friendly snacks.
4. Cook a roast (never have, never will).
5. Touch my toes with ease.
6. Drive the speed limit.
7. Stay focused.
7 Things that Attracted Me to Jon:
1. He's cute.
2. He asked me out (to the I.C., no less) the first day I met him, and then asked me to pick him up because he didn't have a car.
3. And he worked at Burger's Supreme for a semester when he first got to BYU. (Numbers 2 and 3 add up to the fact that he was humble and a hard worker, and didn't really care what others thought. That was sincerely refreshing.)
4. He wasn't a hunter and he didn't like beef. (That may seem weird, but my bros. always teased me that I'd end up marrying some meat and potatoes-type hunter because that was somewhat the antithesis of me. I proved them wrong!)
5. He called me cutes and wrote me nice notes. (Note to Jon: I liked that a lot!)
6. He loved San Fran and Havarti cheese and had been to an Indigo Girls concert (he didn't go for the Indigo Girls, but he was at a festival where they played--and even that meant that he was somewhat of an honorary girl--the highest rank any man can ever achieve.)
7. I was super duper comfortable with myself around him.
7 Things I Say Often:
1. What should I make for dinner?
2. 1-2-3!
3. Leah, take that binky out of your mouth RIGHT NOW!
4. Esther, soft!
5. I love you.
6. When are you coming home?
7. I know I say a ton of stupidly weird phrases (heinous and insensitive?), but they're so much a part of my everyday life that I can't even think of what they are.
7 Books I Could Read Again:
1. Crossing to Safety, Wallace Stegner
2. Sun Under Wood, Robert Hass
3. John Updike short story compilations
4. Chrysanthemum, Kevin Henkes
5. I can't think of more right now. I don't read very often because I find that I'd rather be DOING something. I wish I were a more prolific reader, but I think I have adult ADD.
7 Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:
1. Cinema Paradiso (Italian)
2. About a Boy
3. Bridget Jones' Diary
4. The Mission
5. Moulin Rouge
6. 3 Seasons (Vietnamese)
7. I don't know...I don't watch many movies lately, either. I think I'm going to cancel my Netflix.
7 People I'd Like to See 7s From:
1. Tropical Velvet
2. Phoebers
3. Bluebell
4. chrissy
5. Nat
6. geo and cjane, did you already do this one?
7. miss c hopper
8. bek
**Oh yeah, the El Cap thing is just a joke. I did it to raise Jon's hopes. Sorry, buddy.
7 Things I Want to Do Before I Die:
1.Live a long life with my husband and kiddos.
2. Have a fabulously modern home built for me, husband, kiddos.
3. Stay at Hotel Julen in Zermatt again (1000+thread count sheets....and the best fresh raspberry yogurt in the morning)
4. See children grow and raise their own children.
5. Go on a mission with Jonnie.
6. Climb El Cap
7. Go on lots of fun trips.
7 Things I Cannot Do:
1. Do underwater kick turns in the pool. (Ph, when's my free lesson?)
2. Keep my house clean for more than 15 minutes.
3. Feed my kids mac-n-cheese, crackers, yogurt, pb-n-j, string cheese, and most other kid-friendly snacks.
4. Cook a roast (never have, never will).
5. Touch my toes with ease.
6. Drive the speed limit.
7. Stay focused.
7 Things that Attracted Me to Jon:
1. He's cute.
2. He asked me out (to the I.C., no less) the first day I met him, and then asked me to pick him up because he didn't have a car.
3. And he worked at Burger's Supreme for a semester when he first got to BYU. (Numbers 2 and 3 add up to the fact that he was humble and a hard worker, and didn't really care what others thought. That was sincerely refreshing.)
4. He wasn't a hunter and he didn't like beef. (That may seem weird, but my bros. always teased me that I'd end up marrying some meat and potatoes-type hunter because that was somewhat the antithesis of me. I proved them wrong!)
5. He called me cutes and wrote me nice notes. (Note to Jon: I liked that a lot!)
6. He loved San Fran and Havarti cheese and had been to an Indigo Girls concert (he didn't go for the Indigo Girls, but he was at a festival where they played--and even that meant that he was somewhat of an honorary girl--the highest rank any man can ever achieve.)
7. I was super duper comfortable with myself around him.
7 Things I Say Often:
1. What should I make for dinner?
2. 1-2-3!
3. Leah, take that binky out of your mouth RIGHT NOW!
4. Esther, soft!
5. I love you.
6. When are you coming home?
7. I know I say a ton of stupidly weird phrases (heinous and insensitive?), but they're so much a part of my everyday life that I can't even think of what they are.
7 Books I Could Read Again:
1. Crossing to Safety, Wallace Stegner
2. Sun Under Wood, Robert Hass
3. John Updike short story compilations
4. Chrysanthemum, Kevin Henkes
5. I can't think of more right now. I don't read very often because I find that I'd rather be DOING something. I wish I were a more prolific reader, but I think I have adult ADD.
7 Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:
1. Cinema Paradiso (Italian)
2. About a Boy
3. Bridget Jones' Diary
4. The Mission
5. Moulin Rouge
6. 3 Seasons (Vietnamese)
7. I don't know...I don't watch many movies lately, either. I think I'm going to cancel my Netflix.
7 People I'd Like to See 7s From:
1. Tropical Velvet
2. Phoebers
3. Bluebell
4. chrissy
5. Nat
6. geo and cjane, did you already do this one?
7. miss c hopper
8. bek
**Oh yeah, the El Cap thing is just a joke. I did it to raise Jon's hopes. Sorry, buddy.
5.28.2006
More than just a little troubling...
5.26.2006
the virus is no respecter of genders
yeah, it was HIS idea....doesn't he look fetching? (and even though he's man enough to act like he doesn't care about this, i think he'll be squeamish when he actually sees it.)
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