Love My Way

There aren't a ton of positives related to waiting for The Celiac Mister to come home. But there are some that help pass the time.

1. Indulging in gluten, all day every day. Starting with Nestle Toll House cookies, getting a slice for dinner with the Z Master, and not making ingredients for enchiladas entirely from scratch.

2. Uninterrupted viewing of The Alternative on VH1. Tonight's special was Psychedelic Furs with a little New Order. It's amazing how cool those videos seemed back in the day, but now it's like staring at the cardboard boxes I have yet to pack.

3. Getting that tattoo I always wanted!!!!!!!

4. I miss you.

LF + MF = TLA xoxo


ghost of halloween past

Every Halloween my sister and I would race from house to house trick-or-treating with the largest pillow cases we could dig up out of the linen closet. We were experts, strategically plotting out the path and timing it to perfection.

Our final year of trick-or-treating together, I believe it was 7th or 8th grade for me, was a classic.

We had a specific curfew set in place by G The Horrible (step-dad) and in our house breaking curfew by even 1 minute meant being locked in the dungeon with dragons for a month. In other words, no phone and no friends for an unruly length of time.

So there we were, keeping a close eye on our swatches and determining it was the perfect time to set our sights on the nice neighborhood, the one rumored to give out WHOLE SIZE candy bars! We knew the time to get from house to house would be longer as we would need to cover more landscape so we would cut across lawns. We had approximately 30 minutes left until the drawbridge would close. It would be tight, but we could do it.

Stop #1: Gene's house. Oh, he happened to be a fellow student at my sister's high school. He also happened to be a trekkie, into star wars well-beyond necessary, and incredibly dorky. He apparently was also really into lasers and had put months of time into creating a laser light show in his garage for the trick-or-treaters. MAN was I glad my sister didn't date guys like him. But that topic is a story for another post!

My sister leaned in and said 'I feel bad for him, le's stay and watch'. He talked no other trick-or-treaters into staying for the '10 minute' show. I watched the clock as my mouth watered just thinking of gnawing on that snickers bar mere houses away. Oh the glory. The sweet caramel. The leisurely walk home talking about what candies we would be willing to trade for what would be our final Halloween together. She would always want the jolly rancher sticks and I would be able to double my chocolate supply.

THIRTY. FREAKING. MINUTES. LATER. the show is over, the lights are on and I am crapping my pants at how late we are going to be. And he didn't even have candy left to give us at the end! He was all out! GENE! YOU SUCK! Not even a measly tootsie roll or a couple of pennies.

So we were off , running at lightening speed. But not from house to house for snicker bars, mind you, but to the lovely dungeon that awaited us. I think she was dressed as a baby with giant slippers on and I had her Jr. High pom pom outfit on. Complete with giant yarny balls tied to the shoe tops. It's a wonder we didn't fall on our faces we were running so fast, 10 lb candy-filled pillow cases trailing behind. I also remember laughing hysterically at how funny we must have looked as if we were being chased by bees in ridiculous outfits. Nope, just trying to escape any chance of being late and thrown into the pit of despair.

We made it just in time, but Lisa you owe me a king-sized snickers bar for sitting thru that kid's damn light show.


capital letters

* Having a hard time deciding the final song I will be learning from teacher on the drums before leaving NY in 1 month:
-okgo is in the running
-how can i not choose something from the cure or blink 182
-covered a dcfc song already- crooked teeth
-then there is salvation by the cranberries and i want to die my hair blue and join a protest
-ned's: you would be a good place to visit with sticks for a while
-Dance Hall Crashers: the college years of fresh life and furver, your stickers plaster my first snowboard
-white stripes would be too lame simply because she is my idol

* Zane was excited with me to see a dude on a Harley cruise past us on the Hutch with a leather-caped dog riding in the back in an open, custom-built box. If I were a drinker, I would buy that guy (and the dog) a round.

* Cracker and Car escaped my son's mouth today and brought me great joy, with scatterings of 'bubble' and 'oh nooooooooooooooooooooooooo'.

* Seeing an old friend and getting a big, sincere hug is like what years of therapy would do to a person.

* Who thought this little girl from arizona would ever be sad about leaving this crazy place called new york?

* The key to falling asleep when your eternal companion is void is to force yourself to stay awake until you are about to collapse.


indigo or vintage?

As long as I can remember I have always been drawn to shopping in the men's department when looking for a good pair of jeans. Many of the favorites in my history of pants came from thrift stores. I never knew my true size.

I also never felt I was the right shape to fit into girl pants. Funny, I used to run 8+ miles a day in 122 degree weather. I don't think there was a time in my life I could have been more thin. Yet I had a horrible self image, despite my often overly-confident, outgoing surface. I couldn't face the notion of girl pants.

I was a pretty sloppy dresser. Well, I am still a pretty sloppy dresser. Only now I can't really call myself a tom-boy as an excuse cos I am a mom and I own a pink winter coat. I love that coat more than anything else in my uncoordinate wardrobe. If I still had my electric blue etnies I would wear them with the pink coat.

Living in NY forced me to shop in the girls department. Well, getting a real job downtown working with fashionable women is what truly encouraged me to shop in the girls department. I still had no idea what size I was until I started the torture of trying on jeans. Many attempts failed. I gave up in tears many times and eventually grabbed a pair of H&M oversized mens jeans I wore for several years.

I started to develop a love for Banana Republic work clothes. Naturally that led to some feelings towards J. Crew. On a long lunch break I was coaxed into looking at J. Crew girls jeans with a friend and actually tried a pair on. They actually fit! They actually felt good when I sat down and were relatively flattering. This was a genuine first.

I marched up to the checkout counter beaming with joy. I couldn't wait to call everyone I knew! I wanted to ditch the rest of work and walk around town in my new girl jeans! It was like a right of passage.

My stomach dropped when the bill came to triple of what I was expecting. What will I tell the Mister?

Fast forward to last month. I had the same moment of exhilleration at Banana Republic. I used to look forward to the tulips that would bloom each spring. The nice weather, the botanical gardens, the zoo. Now I just can't wait to wear my new pair of girl pants.

A wise friend once told me- a good pair of pants is something to get up for in the morning.
It's like a bright sunny day in the middle of winter.
I like the Christmas Miracle of 2005.

I am going to rock these pant, spring, so watch out!


Kiddie Park Politics

One of the benefits of being 'older' first time parents (as determined by your religious culture) is collecting insight from people around us whom have been doing it several years prior. Best Practices, if you will, right before our eyes.

Today at the park I saw two moms champion their kids from a little bully girl.

Zane was staked out in his usual spot- the little blue coup car, only now it's a convertable and most parts are missing like it was parked in the Bronx overnight. He watched the whole operation go down.

Bigger boys were going down the tunnel slide and some girl threw sand and sticks into their faces as they emerged from the tunnel. The mothers of the victims shot up from their benches and marched their gucci loafers directly to the scene of the crime without hesitation, like a swat team.

I didn't hear what was said, just that the mother of the girl was nowhere to be seen until much later, when her girl was crying cos she felt bad for being yelled at by other moms, not for what she had done.

I wanted to judge and be mad at the little girl and her mom and then I wanted to defend them in the same heartbeat and hoped it would be a learning moment for all involved.

I thought about how I would have handled the situation from either end as a mother. The more I thought about it, the more I realized no matter what the gucci mothers said, the important part of the process was how the girl's mother would handle it from there. Everyone's kid is going to experiement somehow when the parents aren't looking and we can't always be looking.

I determined if I am in that situation, I hope to tell my child what was wrong about what happened and when (s)he didn't apologize to the boys (she did refuse to), I will immediately leave the park and that would be at least one of the negative consequences. From what I saw, she did not have a single negative consequence and was the last kid playing at the park.

If I am the the mom of the victim I hope I do not hesitate, either. I also hope Zane remembers his karate moves his cousin will teach him.

It's probably not all that complicated of a situation, but I just want to do it right when I am on either end of that scenario! And for so many years I thought analyzing data in spreadsheets was complicated.



This one is only $13,000 a month. I love how the dining room barely fits the table and chairs.



pansy division

I don’t change the sheets in any sort of cyclical fashion.
I avoid cleaning the bathroom unless we have visitors.
I struggle following recipes and burn food often.
There is no method to my grocery shopping.
Dinner is rarely made each day of the week.
I haven’t baked cookies in over 12 months.
I hardly ever color-coordinate the laundry.
I will never make bread from scratch.
I wash all our laundry in warm.
I have never used a coupon.
I don’t paint my nails.
I don’t own an apron.
I can’t scrapbook.

I am not the typical mold for housewife, but DAMMIT something about spring made me feel all domesticated and I planted awesome flowers.


How else would you decorate a Pregnancy Cravings themed baby shower?


Victorian Mansion

My new favorite hobby is checking apartments on Craig's List for a new home in SF. Only for fun (I repeat for entertainment purposes ONLY) I plug in $5,000 minimum for rent to see what we get.

This one is my favorite so far- see the pictures:

For $12,950 a month it contains the following:

* architectural detail
* gated garden
* furnished with oriental carpets, paintings and antiques
* handcarved front doors
* large formal living room with a fireplace
* terrace
* eat-in kitchen with a patio
* den
* 3 large bedrooms
* fabulous views of the bay and Golden Gate Bridge and a fireplace
* handcrafted marble, gold fixtures and mirrored walls
* 2&1/2 bathrooms, and a washer dryer
* Parking for 2 cars is available
* close to San Francisco Yacht Club
I love that the 'master' bedroom is as big as the bed.

What cracks me up the most is I know there is this exact home available in Michigan for $250 a month.


Names of my life's pets

Baby or Jackie (she had one eye)
Some Persian that ran away
Princess (cannot take creative credit, adopted her with said name)


Ned (can't recall what we named him, but Ned would be fitting)


Shin Gardens

Some people listen to The Shins. Well, we actually have neighbors that are The Shins. They are awesome and give us discounts at their dry cleaning business. They plow our driveway in winter to rid the snow. Once I brought them warm chili I cooked all day in the crock pot as a thank you, they didn't understand what it was. Mike and I felt bad that night when we were both in the bathroom from the chili. The next time I saw them...they didn't mentioned the chili. We still get discounts. This is their garden.


...so I guess I don't have to have that neck transplant afterall. The MRI results came back clear. Grateful can't stop rattling around in my mind.