Merry Merry

I  hope whatever it is you celebrate this time of year was as awesome as ours.

What is Art?

Do you think accessibility to material dilutes art or inspires new talent?

I say both.  And sometimes one has to sit down and play Heart and Soul with their best pal to realise the genius of Bach.

***

Need to find out who did that peice of work you grabbed from timblr, pintrest, facebook but can't find the original?  Check this awesome tool out!    ?¿ src-img

***

Improv Everywhere is making a film.

Whiff

I smelled the live oaks on cool humid air and was reminded of vacations in New Orleans. If I had a recording of it I'd hit play, right along with the radio on Saturday mornings.  I'd invite listeners to take a breath while I am retelling about visiting the City of the Dead.  I'd play it on quiet nights when it is too much to open the windows.      

Bleachable Moments

I've gone on before about gender in casting and this commercial surprised me enough to share.

Oh My Darlin'

Tonight I was peeling another clementine for Jack when he started playing with the peel.  Because he has the ability to find the most dangerous thing in the room in three seconds or less, I was powerless when he maced himself in the eye with the twist of the rind.  I'm sure it stung, as I look into it on wiki, I see those oils are used for stripping varnish and garnishing things that have vodka in them.  I washed his eye out and put some saline in it, which also pissed him off, but I figured the more he cried the better it would be for his eyeball.

From the Daily Painting Blog
Postcard from Provence
by Julian Merrow-Smith

This Bird is Half Empty

Some folks miss the magic in life, it goes right over their heads.
(Listen up at 48 seconds)

Wish List

Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year, please bring toys that occupy my kids.  Also I'd like a black cover for my phone, booze, and a very expensive hair cut.

Love,
Jenny

One and a Half Jack

Jack is sleeping or he is a whirlwind of chaos.  He likes all things little boys are supposed to like; cars, sports, playing ball, whacking things with a sword, running after women with his wolf claws out and growling,  climbing and jumping from the top of things and most of all pretending to be big.  His dark eyes glower when he's told "no" in a way that assures me he'll have to get some sort of fight training in life, both to back up his uncontrollable glare and to rein it in. His laugh starts with squinched up eyes, and a wide smile full of pearly teeth, one already chipped from a mishap while running on cement.  He'll give you five if he likes you and he feels like it, and sometimes he'll put his whole open mouth on your face and give you a kiss.  He speaks in song; though he doesn't always get the consonants or the vowels right, he does match syllables, cadence and melody.  We have a joke we tell when we're in the middle of a project and Jack runs into the next room, you say "What can he possibly get into in ten seconds?" and you laugh maniacally while setting the project aside in a hurry and giving chase.  Because soon he will be naked and shaking a lamp, or moving the dog food, or buttering someone on the head.  He's hopelessly devoted to his big sister who loves him enough to afford him all the patience a seven year old can muster.  Under a layer of baby chub, he's sinewy, independent and determined.  He's almost one and a half.

Important Link

SWAT Raids, Stun Guns, And Pepper Spray: Why The Government Is Ramping Up The Use Of Force By Radley BalkoSenior Writer and Investigative Reporter The Huffington Post 

Trophies of 2011

I gold medaled in momming.  I silvered in housewifing. I got the bronze for getting crayon off the wall of a rented house.   After winning the UHaul-Grand Prix for moving an entire household while eight months pregnant, in June, in Texas last year, I went on to win the Illini-1000 in November, when I drove to Rockford for Thanksgiving with two children, a dog and a hip to ankle leg brace.  I got the Rubberband Prize for outstanding efforts in the categories of super cute hair braids and piggy tails that aren't lopsided and I was awarded the Mrs. Mathews Sash and Crown.  Consistantly when I wake up in the morning, the Worlds Best Cup of Coffee is found in my kitchen.  I got the Runneth Over Cup for breast feeding Jack back to sleep, Rookie of the Year for chasing ten month olds who can run, and of course the Hindend Trophy for changing a poopy diaper in a truck stop with one baby wipe.  I was MVP of derby skaters named Bombadee.  I swept the National Championships of Long Black Dog Hair Removal from the floor and couch. I garnered a blue ribbon in Tiny Drawings for the second year in a row and I think I won some sort of certificate for being consistently under-rated and under-collected in the art world, but I'm sure it got lost in the mail. I got my merit badges in grocery shopping with a toddler, reupholstering an ottoman, repairing laptop keys pulled off by children, and blowing out a tire at 75 mph on I-290 as well as waiting two hours for a tow truck by myself on a Saturday night. I also made employee of the month at ZLP at least twice this year and for the seventh time in a row I received Blogger of the Year from Bombadee's Garden. Also, I was gifted the Star of Gratitude for having amazing family and friends. I did not win any awards in modesty nor can I seem to land a spot on My Morning Hair.

Seven Weeks After ACL Surgery

Doctor Lowe said I have the knees of a teenager.  I'm healing up nicely and should be back to at least endurance skating in January.  I still have some swelling and some bruising and my thighs are different sizes, though I don't think it's terribly obvious.  I'm doing physical therapy twice a week and I'm able to stationary bike and get on the elliptical and some basic squats and stair step things.  I have a little spot that remains numb and the scar isn't terrible, you can click on the pic and zoom in to see.  I'm able to get around pretty well and I no longer have to wear what affectionately became known as the iron maiden on my leg.  I'll get a smaller one just for exercising, late next week.

Projects from the Home Sick Department

She put  four stuffed animals under the cardboard box on the living room floor, a cat, a whale, a frog and Charlie peacock.  She put a sign on the box that said "Chaos" and then announced to the room there was a terrible animal fight going down inside the box.

Adventures in Momming

My very good pal Kiki over at I Still Hate Pickles said "Sharing struggles doesn't mean that your struggles don't matter. It helps to know that you aren't alone, and that you always have things to be thankful for!"  I am thankful she said it, because here I go sharing:

Today, I am home with two sick kids, a fever, no voice or groceries and a dog with a flea.  When a toddler that is still nursing gets a sore throat, do you know what happens? He wants to nurse non-stop.  So while I am trying to clean up the dog barf resulting from the hair ball the dog pulled from the spot in her hind quarter where the single flea that she's very allergic to bit her, my son is frantically yanking on my shirt trying to get things out, and the harder he cries the more snot pours from his face.  I am thankful Ella is content to lay about on the couch and overdose on cartoons, but a few times she's had some odd requests; "I need to put pockets on the inside of my robe so I can whip out tools and weapons like a spy, where's the tape?"

At some point this afternoon, I need to pack everyone up and their snot and venture out to the grocery store because we were in Illinois last week and the ice box has in it: tortillas, clementines, old lunch meat, pickles, a half bottle of wine and ketchup. If I can get my boob back in my shirt long enough to get shoes on we'll go get supplies and maybe plumber will finally call me back.  While we were gone, the odd smell in the master bathroom's toilet room, that didn't go away when we bleached everything in there, got worse.  I think an animal expired in the exhaust vent, Dan thinks there could be something wrong with the pipes, so I need a plumber who knows ducts and won't hang up on me when I say "dead animal." So far I've called six and only one called me back.  He wants $120.00 to walk in the door.  Also before he walks in  the door, I need to put the dirty laundry away, empty the diaper pail and wipe the toothpaste off the mirror. In the mean time, I've shut the door and am pretending that room no longer exists. Which brings me to being thankful for having a second commode.

Four Things

I've lost all hope in ever getting any sort of customer service from a store with more than 2,000 square feet. I'm shopping, hence forth at small stores, literally.

***

A first grade boy told me a story in the car the other day, it started with alien robots and wrapped up on Mars with farting and dinosaurs.  I encouraged him to make it into a comic book.

***

That all said about small stores, this presumably big store makes a wonderful commercial :



***

Jack needs these pants

***

Another Cherry Vale Mall Response

Jenny - I am not clear what your intended use is. Many uses can be acceptable if cleared thru the mall management office. Feel free to contact me as the need arises.

 Mark Peterson
 General Manager
 CherryVale Mall
 815-332-2451 x.228

***

Mark, I was at the mall on Thursday, November 25th with my mother, a friend, and my two small children. I was using my iphone to record people singing an impromptu version of "This Land is Your Land" when mall security approached me and said policy was "No filming" and I must stop or leave. It was confusing because several other people were recording this event, but I was the only one with several shopping bags, strollers, coffee, phone, and children in hand. The rest of the people recording were men with nothing in hand but a camera. The video of the incident is here    http://bombadee.blogspot.com/2011/11/occupy-cherryvale-mall-rockford-il-on.html    I was unable to find any mention of this strict policy on your website in the Cherry Vale Code of Conduct, so I was looking for a clarification of your use of cameras.

Awaiting your reply,
Jenny
Houston, Texas

***

Jenny - mall security is correct in speaking to you regarding filming as prior authorization thru the mall management office would need to have been granted.

Thank you for shopping CherryVale.

***

First post here
Initial response here

Occupy Cherry Vale Mall Response

Original Comments:
To Whom It May Concern;
re: http://bombadee.blogspot.com/2011/11/occupy-cherryvale-mall-rockford-il-on.html
What exactly is the policy on using my camera in your facility? Thank you.


***

from CherryVale Mall  malls@shopcherryvalemall.com
Tue, Nov 29, 2011 at 9:53 AM

Hi Jenny, the mall's policy is that if you are taking a picture of your family, there is not an issue, multiple pictures or trying to "sneak" a picture at Santa's set are when there are issues, either store proprietary information or the fact that the pictures are sold with Santa visits. Thanks very much for asking and have a wonderful holiday season.

***

On Friday November 25th I was singled out and asked to stop using my camera by two security guards. I was told it was "Mall Policy" and if I didn't stop I would be asked to leave, while the security guard had her hand on my iphone. I'm confused because several other people were also using their cameras, but I, having my mother, a friend and two small children in tow, one in a stroller, seemed to be an easier target for enforcing the imaginary policy. I was not trying to take a photo of Santa, nor was I stealing any proprietary information. The link to the video of the security guard claiming it is policy and putting her hand on my phone is here http://bombadee.blogspot.com/2011/11/occupy-cherryvale-mall-rockford-il-on.html Awaiting your response.

Sincerely,
Jenny
Houston, Texas

Occupy Cherryvale Mall, Rockford, IL on Black Friday

Shortly after eating lunch and taking the children to see Santa, we heard people yelling in the town square of Cherryvale Mall.  We stopped just past the elevator and looked around.  A few years back someone lit themselves on fire in protest at the very same mall so of course like a true American I got my camera out.  I was face to face with the Occupy Rockford movement.  People strolled in calling and responding "Occupy Rockford!" They hung a banner from the second floor mezzanine and read a short paragraph just feet from us.  We were unable to discern much over the din of the holiday shoppers, other than "...We are your friends and neighbors!..." Next the police rushed up and confiscated the banner and stood very close to our neighbors who started to sing "This Land is Your Land."  Then I raised a camera to capture what felt sort of patriotic and sweet and this is what happened.

Other full video here.

Way to welcome out of town visitors Cherryvale Mall!

UPDATE: There is nothing in Cherryvale Mall's Code of Conduct that says anything about taking a video.

Camping for the Future

I got a new phone.  I love it.  Dan gave it to me right before I left on the long drive to Illinois for turkey, with two kids, a decrepit old dog and a bum knee in the car. I like to think he gave it to me so that if the car broke down I could tell Siri "I need a tow truck" and she would order one up for me, like a small computerized body guard or an obedient domesticated pocket robot assistant.  The idea of domestic robots is exciting to me.  Ten years ago, I named my first robot; Algernon will never know how to do more than vacuum a room, much less tell me what a Wappy Dog is or where to locate one but he is still monumental to me.

I want to keep my new pocket assistant safe, so I decided to find a case, or as I like to think of it a tiny little toddler proof vest.  I went to Best Buy.  To my surprise, there were people in tents on the side walk.  I got excited about talking to some Occupiers; maybe they would ask me not to patronize the corporate box store, maybe they would tell me about all the things in there not made in America, or about how none of the people working inside have the leverage to negotiate decent health insurance.  As I saw the camper's smiling faces, the realization they were camping in preparation for black Friday descended.  It was the exact opposite of what I was anticipating.

I thought about it the whole time I was shopping.  Protesting campers are maced and removed from public space under the guise of safety, but these voracious consuming campers preparing days in advance to storm the gates and trample people, possibly to death, in hopes of consuming more plastic electronics assembled by impoverished children in other countries, the very same items that will later be obsolete and occupy landfills also in other countries, leaching mercury and poisons out into the dirt, washing into the ocean and riding out on the winds young developing lungs breath... these campers are welcomed. (Ok, maybe I didn't think all of that at the time, maybe I was just trying to keep a one year old from falling out of the cart and the brilliant consumerism commentary was discussed and read later on Facebook) but, while I was shopping there was the echoing question of why these campers, but not those and as a result I couldn't buy anything.  I just didn't want to.

Breakfast at Bombadee's V

Jack's snack.

  

Breakfast at Bombadee's IV
Breakfast at Bombadee's III

Breakfast at Bombadee's II

Breakfast at Bombadee's

Breakfast

Jack bounces out of bed and climbs upstairs to wake Ella who is already sitting on the side of her bed rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I hobble up the steps as fast as I can to keep anyone from going back to sleep or eating any leggos. After we pick clothes, we all rumble back down to the dining room and eat cereal in various dampnesses while I sip instant coffee. Everyone is officially UP and I lament running on five hours of sleep.  I am a notorious insomniac. While we wait by the window for the neighbor to pick Ella up for school, I peel the tape off my knee and we all peer at the scar underneath. Ella asks me if I am all right and I say the truth, "No it hurts, and it's going to hurt for a while, while it heals." Then her ride is here and she is off to school.  She is bursting about her first Girl Scout meeting and I can hear her already telling everyone in the carpool it is tonight.

Jack sits down in the living room ready to watch his favorite show while working at peeling the tabs on his diaper. I finally help him and upon feeling the open air on his hind side, he takes off running through the kitchen. He makes six or seven giggling laps around the island before he comes back to the living room dancing to the music from the television.  I turn towards the computer to see if I have any e-mail and turn the volume up on NPR. I tune in WNIJ, because I like to hear the news and the voices from Illinois, the same people that have told me things every morning of my adult life, it makes me feel stable.  I hear water hitting the floor behind me and remember Jack isn't wearing anything on his bottom half. I grab a paper towel, wipe up the little puddle and explain to my son again, that if he has to pee he should go to the potty in the bathroom. He seems to be telling me something, perhaps explaining his reluctance, but I don't speak seventeen month old as fluidly as I'd like so I just nod and say, "I see."

He runs to the kitchen and pulls on the refrigerator handles telling me he's ready for something more exciting than dry cereal. I open the door for him and he peruses the eye level shelf where I keep all the Jack friendly foods. He hands me a small crate of blueberries and an avocado. "Good choice" I say and cut a slice of avocado into little squares and put them next to the berries on a plate. While he munches, I get my bagel out of the toaster and spread butter on it. I think; butter in Texas spreads so easily, you don't have to fight with it like you do in Illinois. Up north the butter is never warm enough to spread and you are trying to shave a millimeter from the top so you can put a thin curl of it on you toast to melt and you have to do it while the toast is still warm, so there's a time factor.  If you say, screw it and get a solid square from the end you end up with big divots in your toast as you try to drag the chunk across your breakfast.  This must be why that southern lady, on television, likes butter so much; she never had to fight with it in the morning.

I wonder how long it will take before I stop comparing here and there when a quiet knock at the door drags me from my thoughts.  The neighbor lady I like so much is standing there with a Starbucks in her hand. I say "Come on in" and she says she doesn't have time, but she was having a tough morning and stopped for coffee for herself and thought I should get a fancy coffee too. She hands me a mocha and smiles. I tell myself again, I must do something amazing for their family on Christmas. I'm not sure what, as she out housewives me on a regular basis, so I consider doing a small painting of their house. She compliments my pajamas and I become hyper aware of the fact that I only seem to see people around here when I have no bra on.  I thank her and say we should go to lunch sometimes soon, again vowing in my head to buy lunch for her and she agrees we should go sometime soon.

Next, I'll get dressed and drive to my physical therapy appointment.  I'm hoping there will be a nap after, in which Jack and I snuggle up into a tight knot of chubby limbs and soft curls. I'll lie perfectly still trying to will Jack to sleep while he squirms and kicks and fights off missing a minute of the waking world. When his blinks get longer and longer, I'll know it's alright to drift off.  But first I'll set my alarm for 2:30 to ensure I don't miss picking the children up from school, knowing Jack always wakes me far before the alarm does.

The Prefect Car Seat

I'm going to buy a new car seat today.  A front facing one so Jack can sit up high on longer drives and see the world.  I went and looked yesterday for one that reclines so when he falls asleep his little head isn't lolling about with every bump and the one I liked was the most expensive one in the store - damn.  So today I'm going over to Once Upon a Child to see if they have that model or one similar, for less.  It needs to be side impact tested, have a five point harness, and recline slightly.  It would be awesome if it also had a cup holder and easy clips so getting Jack in and out isn't always a yoga experiment.  While I'm at it, it'd be stellar if the thing could;
-have a heated and cooled seat depending
-clean itself of crumbled gold fish and raisins
-be antibacterial
-have a vibrate to sleep setting
-only use up the space of one seat
-fold into something portable on wheels so I could take it to the airport
-have quiet little speakers on each side so Jack can listen to Justin Roberts while I listen to NPR
-be less than $100.00

Stupid Yesterday

Yesterday was stupid.  After closing out the day with three beers, I just don't have the energy to write the narrative, so let me just give you this list of things that yesterday brought to my house in no particular order; dog pee, a broken glass, tiny shards of glass in every corner of the entire kitchen and dining room, poo on the floor (not the dog's,)  dog food scattered across the dining room floor, robot head making instead of homework, three different dinners nobody liked, flying macaroni and cheese, almost non-stop nursing, dog pee, small leggos under my feet, 4 baths (not for me,) a soaking wet bathroom floor, an astonishingly refreshing five minute nap at bedtime (again, not for me,) two bedtime snacks, late night beat-boxing from bed, clean laundry on the floor, broken dishwasher, and dog pee (yes, again!)  All I have to say now is good riddance and Yesterday better run and hide, because if I ever see it around here again I'm going to slap the crap out of it and sick my dog on it and my dog will totally pee all over Yesterday's feet.

We Like the Biz

Ella: "You know Biz's Beat of the Day on Yo Gabba Gabba?"

Me: "yeah, what about it?"

Ella: "I was thinking his mom must be very proud of him."

Me: "Why is that?"

Ella: "Because he's such a great beat boxer."

Me: "I'm sure she is, Sweetheart."


 

Steppin' Out Art Gala

November 3rd 2011 at the Houston Museum of African American Culture, the Steppin' Out Art Gala and Silent Auction.  

Sixteen out of two hundred and fifty artists showed and auctioned their work, proceeds went back to the museum.  Two pieces were chosen to represent Houston at Art Basil in Miami.  Al Saulso was the photographer selected and the artist selected was Rachel Stephens. The party was sponsored by Rush Philanthropic Arts Foundation and Bombay Sapphire Vodka who entertained us with masterful drinks all night.  There were lovely horderves too, though I never made it close enough to pick up anything other than a grape off the table, instead I just stole all the snacks Kiki had on her plate. Also, thank you Fred or Tiffany for taking the first picture (above,) I really adore it. 

I showed two pieces (below) and chose not to sell them, mostly because I like them and I want to keep them.  I think I also gave the worst interview in the history of ever, stuttering something about "liking the exposure because I liked it" or some such awfulness, oh wait... I should know I give bad interview and subsequently only offer them in writing (see "Certain Searches for Certain Subjects")  Later after a few drinks seeing all the art, I got quite obsessed with people's shoes.  I took about a dozen pictures of shoes, (maybe fancy shoe post coming.) I wish I'd taken more photos that made sense, but you add vodka into the night and suddenly I'm all magpied up and wandering around blathering about shoes. 

The dress I wore with the iron maiden on my leg

Hi Mom!

"Kiss" & "Prime Rib" by me

Sam, Kiki, Christine, & Erin

Tiffany & Fred

Sara

More beautiful people

My eyes are open!

Clapping for the winners

There's my name on the glass!

Gratis drinks

The band who's name I don't know

more pretty people

"Supertheory of Supereverything" - by Rachel Stephens

"The FBI is Hiring Con Men and Sell Outs" & "Ilham" - by Michael Carter

Highlights

Out of the blue, the neighbor kid turned to me and said "Sometimes I get wedgies."

Jack whacked me in the cheek bone with a ukulele, I'm putting it in the baby book under first shiner given.

Ella is working on her beat boxing skillz, she's pretty good.

I spent the equivalent of a grocery bill at the book fair, (you're welcome grade school.)

Me and the kid joined Brownies, I refuse to wear a sash but I will sew patches.

One of my favorite artists was inspired by a Vachel Lindsay poem and I want to show it to you (below)

Halloween on My Street

Spring Heeled Jack 2011

 The neighbors have been getting together for a street party for fifteen years here on Halloween.  Everyone brings their best crock pot of chili and we all turn our house lights off and put all our candy at the candy table at the end of the cul de sac.  The kids run wild in the street and the adults taste everyone chili and potato salad and eyeball shaped cupcakes and drink beer.  At some point we gathered up kids and walked a few blocks trick or treating.

On the next block over the neighbors turned their garage into a haunted house and it reminded me of the many times my dad and uncles turned a basement into a haunted house.  Usually there would be a scarecrow at the end who was holding perfectly still but then jump at you once you got close to see if it was real.  I think we may still be a few years away from doing that in our garage, but it is now on the list.

The kids had a blast.  Even after Jack fell on the sidewalk and fattened his lip, he didn't want to go home.  It was lovely to meet all the people on our block and only have to walk two houses home and even better that I didn't have to answer the door forty times with the dog barking each time.

Mail Time

I Guess it Wasn't Such a Long Way

I turned the car radio up and exclaimed "I love this band!"  My seven year old replied "Ug, Mom.  Are you kidding me? It sounds like muppets trying to rock n roll."

Even When No One is Looking

It bothers me that during these protests everyone is filming things. The idea that we have to film for any story to be believed absolutely floors me. It is another way we are sapping the humanity from the world and handing it over to an impartial machine. This is scary because integrity and judgment is what makes us civilized. When we flatly legislate instead of using our best judgment, we create loopholes that allow a person to feel good beating The System, forgetting that the system is us. Laws represent the hopes we hold for society and a dollar represents a human's time and effort on the planet. Circumventing one to take the other isn't beating a system, it's beating people.

While it is easier and faster to present irrefutable video evidence, it makes me utterly sad we need it, like a giant global nanny cam. It is impossible to legislate everything, there is always a horrible way to exploit while staying within the law and always some place a camera is not. We have to put the value back into personal honor.  It's what every one of those signs at Occupy Wallstreet demand.

"I can't cover all the rules for how to treat your brother. They do include; no hitting, stop poking him when he cries, don't pull him around by his arm, don't put playdoh in his hair, help him get a drink and don't let him break his neck climbing the bookcases. But I can't think of all the things you and he haven't though of yet, so lets just say this; Even when I'm not looking, I expect you to use your best judgment and be nice to your brother." -  Everyone's Mom

Fashion Emergency! Help, Advice Kneeded

On a whim I entered a contest I saw advertised on Facebook.  I picked a tiny drawing I liked and submitted it. You can still go vote for it here http://bit.ly/oYozZj  voting continues through 11-13-11 so you can keep going back every day and voting if you like.  This lead to an actual show at the Houston Museum of African American Culture.  I submitted two pieces. Bombay Sapphire Vodka Artisan Series is sponsoring the show and the afterparty in conjuction with the grand opening Gala of HMAAC.  It's a juried show and two artists will be selected to participate at Miami Basel this December.

These are the two pieces I submitted

06.02.11

04.24.11

They are from the Tiny Drawings series and the only way to appreciate exactly how small they are it to see them in person.

I think I'm going to go to the after party.  The question now is; what does one wear to her first show, down-town, in the Museum District, in the fourth largest city in the nation, where people are likely to be wearing sparkly evening gowns, and the party is thrown by a vodka company, and the prize is an entrance into the biggest art show in the country, and she is wearing a leg brace hip to ankle?  I mean really? What the hell do I wear? Do I get all Lady Gaga with it or just opt for a quiet little black dress cut very short?   One thing is for sure, high heels are out.

Socks

This brace covers my whole leg.  I'm waiting for the stitches to come out before I attempt to wear pants under the thing. I'm trying to figure out a way to wear tall warm socks with shorts that doesn't look ridiculous or inappropriate (so far, unsuccessful.)  That or I think I need to go over to the goodwill and get a pair of jeans to cut one of the legs off.  The second option sounds good, but I can't try pants on with the thing on my leg.  I hope it warms up today.

Jack is wearing socks for the first time he can remember.  He thinks they are great, he socked around the wood floors for a bit this morning dragging his little heels all over and he keeps looking down at them and wiggling his toes.  Yep, your toes are still there.

Frankenee

In which I talk about my surgery (not very exciting unless you've googled ACL injury/are about to have the same proceedure.)

The bone patellar bone ACL reconstruction surgery I had after the complete tear in ACL from playing roller derby, performed by Dr. Walter Lowe in Houston, TX, went very well.  I've relied on wonderful friends and neighbors to get through the first week despite my desire to do everything on my own.  So, if you're at this blog post for insight before you have it done,  please get someone to help you for the first week, you will need it.  I had the proceedure on Thursday I went back to the doc today and they gave me a 60° bend in my brace and unwrapped the gauze.  It feels wonderful to be able to bend it some and even better to have all the wrapping off.  It wasn't as scrambled as I expected it to look under there and I'm a week away from getting the stitches out and being able to have a good soak in the tub.  Here's what it looks like 5 days after surgery (today) while the brace is off.  You can click to embiggen.

Thank you Kiki, for going with
 and taking the gross photo.

The pain of the first two days after surgery are something to sleep through.  The physical therapy regime is full and difficult but will get me back up and going fast so I'm eager.  In an earlier post, I misspoke, I do have two screws in there, one will turn into bone eventually and the other is titanium and MRI/metal detector safe.  I'll keep posting the progress and the evolution of the scar that I don't think I'll mind.  I'm viewing it as one would view a tattoo, it's a permanent reminder of a time in my life that I loved (more on that later when I can wrap my head around my gratitude.)

"Then The Dam Broke, The Whole World Recognized It"

Tiny Matadore

This morning Jack is chasing the dog around the house with a tiny baby doll stroller.  The dog is rearing and jumping and running and Jack is squealing and doubling back to get her.  At times the dog is wild eyed with almost getting rammed and dodging out of the way at the last moment and Jack is perfectly giddy running as fast as he can and barely missing.  In my head he is yelling "Olé!"

Penny Commerce

Ella will remember the Ice Cream Man.  We never had one, because I grew up on the edge of the hood, in the 70s, where a fella with iced goodies and a pile of money might get shanked.  We did have a little convenience store up the street called Park-It-Market and someone tried to rob it once but the owner was a black belt and he beat the crap out of the robber and held him until the police came and nobody ever tried it again.  The place is still there, though I don't know if John still owns it.  In grade school, I used to get $1.00 every day for an .85cent lunch.  I'd save the other .15cents ever day and on Friday I'd take my .75cents up to Park-it Market and pour over the candy.  I could afford two .35cents candy bars or one candy bar and six smaller candies.  A Peppermint Patty was always in there, and the smaller stuff was crap like Bottle Caps, Laffy Taffy, and Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum.   But on very rare occasions, I'd buy just one whole bag of circus peanuts using up all the money.  I never could save up two weeks at a time.

Childhood Memory

Goody Two Cups

I was supposed to take a photo of a bad habit. Since it seemed too difficult to capture myself yelling "Shit!" in front of the children, I opted to turn to the few cups of coffee which without, I get seriously crabby. (I know lame, but the truth is I'm too tired to try to make a habit out of things that are bad for me.)

Ambushed

Hey you! Other Mommy Blogger! I surf the blogosphere between the wee hours of 'The Baby Finally Fell Asleep While Jumping on the Couch-O-Clock' and a 'Quarter Past I Can't Keep My Eyes Open Any Longer'.   So if I click on your blog and suddenly Shania is singing about how Today is my Day, loud as shit because the last person to use the computer was a seven year old who thinks the volume should always be on eleven, then you are ensuring I can never read your blog.  Because, like a jack in the box, something you thought was totally cute popped out of it's box and scared the crap out of my kid.  Stop it.

The One Year Old Blues

In the Key of A

Fruit

I've taken soo many photos, my old Casio Exilim 7.2 is busting at the seams.  It doesn't always turn on and the battery only stays in when the little door is shut because the piece that holds it in broke off.  I always liked that it fit in my pocket and turned on super fast allowing me to get pretty good pictures because the action is fast and even the flash is pretty fast.  But I've always thought the quality was sort of poor.  I think I was spoiled by my clunky old Fuji.



My Fuji Finepix 4700,  I pulled it back out to take photos of my dying camera, and I snapped this one of Jack and confirming it's quality is better.  It uses hexes instead of square pixels and creates a clearer image with less computing (2.4MP.)  It also has a higher ISO which I love, especially snapping a busy toddler.






I took today's photo with my phone but I intend to do some wonderful things with my trusty hex-pixeled Fuji.

First Plumb

Art Cars at Trader Village

From a low angle

 

Little Jack Corner

Jack likes to sit on my art box and look out the window.  It's his quiet thinking spot.  It's not often he is still and reflective.  Like his uncle Joe, he is usually either going full blast or sleeping.  I like that he has a place he's decided is his own.

Partly Sunny

Something Green

Because of the drought, there is a lawn watering restriction in effect.  I don't mind, it's less lawn maintenance when the grass doesn't grow.  Though playing in the yard worries me because it's not as soft and lush as I'd like.  Oh, the sad problems of the first world I deal with.  I hope for rain.

I only have one thing I do in the day that is imperative and scheduled.  I mean of course it's important to upkeep the household and the health and well-being of the children, but if I skip folding the laundry there is none to yell at me but me. My only Monday through Friday must, is picking up the kid and the neighbor kids from school in the afternoon. It only takes ten minutes, unless it rains.  On days it rains, apparently, everyone runs around the school asking each other if they should let the kids go or not, despite the form I signed that said "the kid will not melt in the rain, nor will she shrivel up in the cold and I'll let her outrun the tornado if need be, just let her go out the door at the end of the day" or something like that.

Today I stood under a tree in the school yard trying to shield the baby from the freak ten minute monsoon blowing through by wrapping my body around him and his shivering blue lips while the grade schoolers peered out the window and across the field at their waiting and drenched parents.  After which they only released kids to the parents who trashed their shoes trudging across the big field of mud, with baby in arms and mascara running down their cheeks like a Tammy Faye Baker.  Yes, there was more than one of us that said to each other while walking up to the school "Oh look at this freak little grey cloud." "Maybe it'll rain for five minutes or so." "This could be fun!" and "Shouldn't be too bad.  Good for the plants."  

***

Middle Class Problems
First World Problems
First World Problems Rap