berkeley

campus:

>>>>rolling down a hill on campus

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Plus, there was this brief and useless stop somewhere else to see the Jelly Belly Factory. Take it off your list, so not worth your time. But if you do go anyway, take a lot of pictures during the tour. It makes them really happy when you do.

pedro the lion

this little guy makes me happy

receive the transmission of my middle finger

Dear Graco,

I hate you. In fact, I have almost always hated you. Even when you tried to recreate the whole cool fabric on a stroller version of your crappy strollers, I didn't fall for it. Your junk falls apart, makes kids bleed, and all around looks like crap most of the time. Yes, I have still accepted this fact and wasted more money on your junk. Why I have is BEYOND me. Clearly your goods are designed to not last so we can keep spending more and more money, instead of making decent stuff that might actually last through kid numero dos at the very least.

This week's waste of money was the last straw. I will no longer spend money on your products.

You see, I am knee-deep in empty boxes, filling them little by little as I prepare to move my family and our belongings to another home in another state. My kids have been sick with colds, coughing at night, needing a humidifier and medicine all night between the moonlight packing extravaganza. You could say it's a time of transition, sleep is expected to be minimal and tension high. I am a little busy these days. So when my old baby monitor busted, I knew I could run to a local store that loves to cram every product of yours on every shelf. I had no time to research and hoped to replace what I had before. But it wasn't there. Turns out, you had the only version under the price of $180 so you won the prize of joining my shopping cart. I loved you for the entire time it took me to drive home, put the baby to sleep, push a plug into the wall, and then turn a knob.

Well, Tune In Tokyo. Not only could I hear the humidifier like it had a full blast megaphone attached to it, but I heard the baby breathing in, then out, then in again, and out. It was louder than it would be if I were to hold him in my arms and squeeze the air out of him quickly into a microphone connected to 15,134,968,056,897 amps. And when he would whimper, I heard that too. In waaaaaaay too loud of volume despite the little nobby thing being turned all the way down. And when the baby rolls over in his crib, it sounds like he is hanging sheets of wallpaper on the wall. I might as well have the kid sleeping on my face all night with his mouth pressed into my ear.

You see, the whole idea of a monitor (to me) is to transition the baby out of your room so you can finally sleep. So these little restless movements don't wake you up all night long. I only want to hear the cries that indicate a leg is jammed between the slats or a bear has jumped through the window and is about to chew off his head. Any other noise, I don't really want amplified.

I had about 4 precious hours of sleep alloted into my crazy schedule last night. Instead of sleeping, I lay awake at 2am listening to a grip of blue paisly print being smoothed out behind the crib by chubby baby hands. All the while I was giving you my middle finger, Graco.

good find

I have held this book in my hands a few times at the bookstore, leafed through it and put it back down smiling each time. Not sure what my deal is, but I have a hard time paying for words when they are all over the place for free on my computer. That said, if you are like me and hold out on book buying because you want to spend your cash on 'really great sushi' instead, you will find this site, stuff white people like, hilarious (freshly forwarded to me from Mike). I imagine the entire book is, too. Dare I indulge in both?

I love the recent entry about bangs. According to this guide: When you are introduced to a group of white people, it’s a good idea to befriend the girl with the bangs. She’s probably the most popular.

What!? I tried the bangs, I looked like a freaking P.E. teacher. For some reason it works on everyone else, just not me. I think it's my facial structure. I will just have to accept that it makes me a nerd. Waaaaaaay better than looking like a man in a wig. Although I like the follow up note: these same things are hated by cooler white people. I guess I just have to pretend I hate things I don't participate in to feel good about no bangs.

p.s. don't to forget to read his post on Whole Foods. I am ready to be best friends now. Officially.

xoxo

Remember in Long Beach when we would look at the adult movie titles and laugh? Remember the title Throbbin Hood? We joked about that one for at least 3 weeks. I miss you.

the fam

Saying goodbye to the golf course behind our CA home.

The one that lovingly provided dozens of free golfballs into our yard every week.

Zane will be so confused when he doesn't have to wear a helmet in the new back yard.

(photos by Beka)

you'll dance to anything

Mike's sister, Beka, is in town. Today just her and I spent time in SF, one of her favorite places. I am still not sold on the head-over-heels love for the S to the F many feel, but I can be persuaded.

We started with time in the SFMOMA, it was enjoyable to peruse the photographs of Lee Miller (self-portrait above). I found it interesting to read details about her history and see how her interest/ life path changed the subjects she shot over the years from people to landscape to death.

I found inspiration in some painters, some items I would love to try to replicate our own version of some of the things we saw for the boys' rooms someday. I think it would be nice to involve them in some drafts and final versions of paint on canvas when they are old enough.



I liked Land's End by Jasper Johns oil on canvas (above), I like the words of colors blended into the work and the lack of perfect order in the way it's put together.

I liked this one, above, too. Frank Stella's Zambezi. It is enamel on canvas.

Portrait de Sarah Stein (Portrait of Sarah Stein) by Henri Mattise oil on canvas (above) -this was the only one I liked by him. I love the way her hair is a crazy circle and how he chose for her collar to turn into the background of her face. Looking close at the eyes it seemed to me he spent a lot of time reworking them, using many layers of many colors. I noticed a perfectly intact thumb print in a sharp blue color on the left near the left bottom half of the painting, it made me wish I had seen it painted back in 1916 so I could ask why what left in its place.

all things suitcase. and more.

Next Stop:

Pasadena. 1 night.

Then The Bay Area. About 2 weeks.

Then back to AZ. For good.

And the next time we live out of suitcases for several days, I hope there is a beach involved. Or mountains with lots of fresh snow on them.

Someday I hope to meet someone who is a ventriloquist.

It always bothered me as a young child to see the puppet get stuffed into a suitcase with no air holes. Probably because every act ends with the puppet not wanting to go back into that stuffy suitcase.

Do you think one could learn to become a ventriloquist, or are you born with that talent? Like those people who can whisper to dogs, or have ESP, or roll their tongue like a taco?

I would end my skit with the ventriloquist begging to get back into the suitcase already. He (I) would talk about how awesome it is in there and how all his friends are waiting for him so they can party in the movie theater section of the east wing.

I want to collect any and all boy dress-ups possible and put them into an old school suitcase that is hard with a combination lock. With letters, the code is letters, not numbers. It will be important for the case to be big enough for a 50's gray felt Fedora hat. No reason. None at all.

say WHAT?

There are only a handful of times in my life that have matched what I could call Feelings Big as a Mountian Moments. Those are important decisions where your life is changing forever in subtle and not so subtle ways. You realize when you make the decision many of the things that are going to change, but also acknowledge there are countless others no one could explain well enough to prepare you for (both in the amazing and hard buckets of life). You know things are going to be different.

Here is a collection of some of those moments:

1) Walking towards that office on a campus while bikes holding older, seemingly smarter, people fly past me in every direction. In one short hour a stranger assists me in choosing those first courses I would officially commit to for what would turn into several years of working towards a long term goal of higher education.

2) Standing above the valley that night, heart beating quickly, while his sweaty hands hold mine. The diamond in his pocket, he begins to bend on one knee. I reply with a magnificent of course.

3) Boarding that plane with our one-way tickets in hand. Taking the leap that we hope will guide us into a success that will make it worth the fear; plus pains of family being so far.

4) Driving home in the rain under the soggy trees on the Bronx River Parkway with our first child nestled and tucked into his infant carseat. Raw vulnerability never meant anything before this 20 minute chunk of time.

5) Peeking over the sterile baby bed as our second newborn is getting his lungs suctioned, my heart begging for the opportunity to take him home safe, healthy, breathing well.

6) Sticking my toes in the grass of what will be the front yard of our very first home (upon the successful conclusion of closing). Watching One checking out what will be his very first back yard. Cinderblock and dirt have never made me smile so brightly. They are the most glorious I have ever seen, because they are on the verge of becoming ours. Seeing The Other crawl on the softest carpet and most delectable tan color my eyes could possibly behold, because it is on the verge of becoming ours.

We are so at that moment in the process where it's like having your first baby. While still in the hospital the nurses are taking care of most of it, so you really don't feel like a parent. People ask you on the phone how it's going, being a parent, but you aren't really doing it yet. You are about to, once you get home, but until then you are waiting to officially push up your sleeves and feel what it's like to be engorged, smiled at, loved, pooped on, nuzzled, etc.

It just feels like a theory right now, but one that's shortly going to become a reality and begin another big section in the Life Changes book.

Tara

These are some favorite photos I took a favorite friend and her fam.

I will miss them.

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