Possible Snozberries

Those little cutey clementines are wonderful for the kids and I keep them in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator so that Jack can get them out whenever he needs.  He just peeled one all by himself and brought it over to feed me slices of it.  It was so sour I realized I hadn't had one for a long time, then I wondered if I was in danger of getting scurvy then I let Jack feed me another slice and remembered he'd been picking the dogs nose just before he peeled that cutey. Yay for parenting.

Chevron Says it's Not Their Problem

After THIS POST  about Chevron marketing porn and drug magazines to little kids, I emailed them a second time and said "I didn't get a response, what's up with that? " Chevron sent me a letter that essentially says 'We are sorry, but it's not our problem, we handed you off to someone else, there's nothing we can do even though our name is on the door':

Station Name & ID#:       Merchant Group Inc  -  207269

Facility Address:                   8301 Eldridge & West Rd Houston, TX 77084

Operator:                              SUSSER PETROLEUM CO LLC

Dear Jennifer,

Thank you for taking the time to contact Chevron regarding your visit to your local Chevron-Texaco service station located at 8301 Eldridge & West Rd Houston, TX 77084.

Please be informed that majority of our Retail Operations are independently owned and operated & these operators/retailers are the one in-charge in maintaining their facility; manning their Station Operation, hiring-training of station personnel and also in the implementation of policies. Kindly direct your concern to the station operators/owners of the facility involved for any point of clarification that you may have. As much as we would like to assist you with this one, this department cannot gain access to the station’s database nor interfere with the owners’ business operation.

We sent your comments to the Station Retailer who owns and operates this station to make him aware of the incident so that he can take corrective action. We know that as a business owner who values customer goodwill, he will counsel his station management to ensure that this does not happen again. 

Chevron is committed to providing excellent products and services to our customers, and when this does not happen we are very disappointed. It is very difficult to be knowledgeable of all events at all stations, however, customers such as you enable us to take corrective action when we are able.

Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention. We apologize for the inconvenience that it caused. 

Contrary to the incident that you described, we sincerely value you as a customer and hope this incident will not keep you from patronizing stations in our retail network in the future.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Willy John Avilla

Consumer Connection Specialist

Consumer Connection Center Chevron Products Company 

Lizard Hunter

Home Shopping

I'm calling around for houses to rent and inquiring on some through Craig's list.  At least 50% of the Craig's List ads are some asshat claiming to be a missionary from South Africa who's a good Christian and can't so me the house on account of they're in South Africa and all but they assure me the house is sheer perfection and I should fill out the credit report and send them a deposit so they can send me the keys.  This scam must work some of the time because they are still running it.

The other scam is the company that says "Give me $250.00 and I'll set it up so you can buy this dream house that is in fore closure with no down payment or credit check, you just take over the payments and move in."  I read about it and what they actually do is take your $250.00 and give you a list of places in foreclosure and you do the rest of the negotiating with the homeowner who is so crabby about his house being foreclosed on he doesn't want to deal with you and won't call the company to tell them no, so you can get your money back guarantee.

I've talked to a few homeowners/landlords who seem serious and have said they can't get a renter who can pass a background check or a credit check which tips me off about what sort of neighborhood I may be looking at... or no longer looking at.  They can't pass a back ground check? ug.

So if you know of a cute little three bedroom bungalow with hardwood floors, a basement, a garage, front porch, and a fenced in yard in a good neighborhood, tell me about it.  White picket fence and lilacs seal the deal.

What's New and What Will Be

I'm not actually going to write much about the ending of my marriage.  It's just all so typical and embarrassing and boring and maddening.  It's juicy gossip but not a very original story.  The bigger story is, string of tragic events and life changes, meets midlife crisis and it all falls down. The end.

I am looking forward to quite a few things now. The first thing being a new house where we can settle in and stay.  This will be the 5th time we've moved in 3 years and I'm aiming for it to be the last time we move for a very long time.  Like the end of The Professional, we are going to plant green things where we are going. I'd like lilacs. We're looking forward to an end to the bugs.  My babies look like they have chicken pox between the ants and the mosquitoes and the other day I read a facebook post from someone who caught a scorpion in their house.  A Scorpion!... A...Scorpion!    F*^% that!

We are planning Jack's second birthday party already. It's in July and we want to invite all the friends and family we have in the Midwest and have water balloons and balloon balloons and helium balloons.  Jack loves a balloon, they make him laugh. We'll make a giant cake and cook out and reconnect with people we've missed outside somewhere where there are no scorpions.

We are excited about the water slide park, children's museum, Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles and Cousins, t-ball or ballet - maybe both, and a possible hamster.  The hamster is agreed to only after an extensive one page report on how to take care of hamsters is turned in. We are excited about boating and the fourth of July and music festivals and apple donuts and cheese curds, pasta and pizza and autumn camp fires and sledding equipment for Christmas.

I have lots of things on my list, mostly boring things.  The two that are important to me and I feel like I want to say out loud are this; art & bed.  I am going to make a go as a serious money making artist.  The last time I did it I was in my early twenties and all bushy tailed and dumb like all doe eyed twenty year olds.  This time I have life and experience and desire behind me.  While I was mildly successful the first time, I intend to be wildly successful this time.  I'm going to go about it a little differently.  I'm sure you will read more about it later.  I'm going to do all that while sleeping in a beautiful new bed. I think it's called for. That is all.

If you are here in Texas reading this, we're leaving at the end of May.  If you are in the Midwest, we are coming home at the beginning of June.  Yes, I need help moving, yes there will be beer, no I don't really want to talk much about what happened, and yes the kids would love a play date.

Smut With Your Candy?

I stopped at my local Chevron station (8301 North Eldridge Parkway Houston, TX 7041) yesterday to grab an Orange Crush and stood in line behind a nice lady getting milk and this little girl getting candy. It took long enough that I naturally started reading the magazine covers at the stand. To my surprise the ones at eye level for the kiddos were all tits, ass and drugs.  I patiently waited my turn.  When I got to the checkout I asked the man pictured below if he was the owner, he said he was the manager.  I told him the magazines that were at eye level for little kids up front were not appropriate, and in fact most of them should be in a brown bag.  He shrugged his shoulders and said that was how "they" set it up. I told him he should move them, it wasn't right.  He told me again that was just how it was set up.  I squinched my eyes up tight and pointed at him and said "It's not right" before leaving.  Thankfully I didn't have my kids with me.  I'm dropping Chevron a note to see what they say.  I'll let ya'll know if I get a response.

Little girl buying candy from the open smut peddler who claims he can do nothing about it.
Go ahead and click to enlarge the image.

Link!

I have art HERE go see it!

Stellar Advice from a Boss

"Fall small, know when to call it off.  Life lessons from the track"
-Shawshank, Houston Roller Derby & Boss

"and every once in a while you should pass the star!"
- BabyFace Assassin, Texas Rollergirls & former Boss

Late Onset Group B Streptococcus Infection

I am a person that has to put distance between a terrible event before I can comfortably talk about it.  When Jack got sick, he wouldn't eat all afternoon.  This from a baby who never missed a time to nurse.  He was crying and crying a terrible little cry that was weak and moany.  It was Friday afternoon and the doctor's office was going to try to fit us in at 3:05.  I called twice to see if they had anything sooner, his little sounds were so torturous and two hours was too long to wait.  His fever worsened and by the time we got to the doctor I was scared.  I was glad I called the doctor instead of trying to wait out the fever. At 103° the pediatrician insisted we go straight to the emergency room.  She said the odd cry was because he was struggling to breath.  I rushed Ella into the car and drove as fast as I could three blocks and found a parking place.  Inside the triage nurse just asked us our names and ran us into the back where doctors swarmed and poked and scratched their heads.  Jack's neck started to swell up as he was going septic.  He was six weeks old.

This video is what it sounds like when a sick infant is having a hard time breathing. This was just before we left for the doctors office.  



I tested negative for Group B Strep (GBS) at the end of my pregnancy so antibiotics were never given.  In fact I've had occasion to be tested again and I'm still negative.  It's a bacterium a good amount of people carry on their skin, it's something you can get from a grocery cart, a handshake, a library book, a baby present.  Most people never know they carry it, because it's a wimpy bacteria killed by penicillin.  For babies it can be deadly.  That is what Jack had.  Babies usually get it when they are born, it's very unusual for a six week old to get it, but it happens.  Late onset Group B Strep can lead to meningitis, brain damage, hearing loss, life long handicaps or even death.  Jack escaped all of those things.  He's scrappy like that.  I stayed in the NICU with him for 13 days while he received intravenous sterile antibiotics. He responded well to them in the first few days and so doctors were optimistic.  I lived in dread of his IV falling out again.  His veins were so small and hard to find to get it back in was a delicate catastrophe of blowing out vein after vein, searching under the skin with a needle and holding him down.

Leading up to the day Jack wouldn't eat, he had a rash.  It looked like a heat rash all over his face, I called ask-a-nurse and she suggested if that was the only symptom he had that is was likely baby acne and I should just keep a close eye on it.  It was hard to tell if he was sleeping out of the ordinary, or acting differently, we just met and I wasn't sure what the usual Jack behavior was yet.  Once he was in the hospital and on the antibiotics the rash went away, almost immediately.  It wasn't baby acne, heat rash, 'stork bites' or sensitive skin, it was infection running all over his whole body.  By the time Jack got a fever, the strep bacteria was winning, his white blood cell count was in the hundreds.

This was Jack's rash

I still wonder how his stay at the hospital effected him, how it may or may not have shaped his personality or pain tolerance or zest for life. He is so much like my littlest brother who was born with a club foot and endured similar poking a prodding and even surgeries.  He's spirited and particular, funny and bright, he figures a thing out quickly and is awesomely coordinated - both Jack and my brother. 

This is strong, scrappy Jack now.

July is Group B Streptococcus Infection Awareness month, the same month Jack was born.  I'm posting this now though because it's important and I was finally ready to say it.  One in four pregnant women carry it.  All doctors here in the U.S. test for it.  It's not something most people need to worry about, just something you should be aware of.  It's far scarier and more dangerous to put our baby in the car and drive everyday.  I have only this advice, wash your hands often, if your baby is under six months old and has a fever - see a doctor right away and if you feel something is "off" or "wrong" follow your intuition, it's hardly ever wrong. 

A Change is Gonna Come

Dear friends and family, after 19 years Dan and I are splitting up. This is very difficult for both of us. Together, we decided at the end of this school year, the children and I will move back to the Midwest. We know it is better for them to be near their extended family. All of us are looking forward to new beginnings and happier days.

Deviled Dish

I noticed yesterday Jack would only eat fruity Cherrios if they were lined up in a row.  He likes his food to be orderly.  Today at the resale shop, I picked up the best dish ever, for .49¢.  He ate everything on his plate.   

Remind me later to add this to my resume under "Can solve difficult problems efficiently and in a creative way."

Living in Toddler Land

While everyone else is drinking beer and cheering on our home town Hockey players, I am in the lobby holding a sugared pretzel and the hand of my son.  To his squealy delight, we are riding the escalator for the fifteenth time and flirting with the ushers on two levels, flashing them tiny smiles and bashful waves.  I can hear the crowd cheer for fisticuffs on the ice and I am getting a high five for successfully jumping at the end of the moving stair-ride.  It's odd to exist in an alternate parallel universe and when I see other parents on the same plane as us, we smile at each other in exhausted recognition.

In Toddler Land, loud noises are scary, anything mechanical and near the floor demands ample time for inspection, there are only a few good foods (cheese and macaroni and cheese,) you never have a clean shirt, and nobody speaks the language.  Time is fluid in Toddler Land; a simple wait in line at the grocery store is long enough to attempt to juggle a TV Guide, Bubblelicious and Carmex into the cart, cry about the grapes going into the bag, get tangled up in a purse strap, make new friends and wipe something sticky on the lady behind you and demand to hit all the buttons on the check out key pad.  A single stop light can last five years if there is crying involved and alternately; seventeen  hours can't possibly be enough time to play trains, nor is three months enough time to hear that one song.  Luckily the free flowing Gift Economy is solid and fueled with sticky kisses, pearly smiles and tight hugs which is why everyone in Toddler Land is rich.

Saturday Roller Derby Recap

Via Kiki @ I Still Hate Pickles.  I'm in there!

Cartoons

Go see THIS and THIS. I have art there!

day three

The real hair-do test comes the first day you don't have the stylist's magic and the expensive potions in your bathroom and you don't have time to blow dry.  So here it is air dried, like it would look after the pool or at the beach or any busy morning.  Yay for genius stylists.

The Kilted Coiffeur

A guy at the copy shop said to me, "Wow you have such long hair, let me guess, your husband won't let you cut it."  I took immediate offense as I realized I looked like a person who had no control over how I wear my hair.  I replied "No, I'm just lazy and haven't had it cut in three years."  I started looking at it in the mirror, all the heavy locks that I usually just put in a bun every day.  The same long, heavy, dark mane I had in college.  I once read that people keep their hair in the style they had when they had the most fun in life. I think about this when I see women with the big bouffant feathered hair from the 80s, I think about it when you see comb overs and mullets and I was thinking about it looking in the mirror.  Just six years ago I had a pixie (see profile picture on the right) so clearly I'm not hanging onto the past.... or am I. "Oh no" I thought.

So, I looked online for a hair cuttery close to home, I read reviews and perused a few websites before I found The Kilted Coiffeur who said "Love Your Hair, Every Day"... Nope I didn't love my hair, not any of the days.  Sometimes I loved it just after I blow dried it and flipped it upside down and was standing in a certain light, just slightly to the left, but only for about five minutes and I wanted to love it every day now that I thought about it.  I stalked The Kilted Coiffeur on Facebook, carefully looking at all the hair and eye-balling the stylist to see if it was someone I thought I might want to talk to while being coiffed.  Dark thick nerdy glasses, asymmetrical hair cut, standing next to Rachael Ray smiling - yep, that was the guy.  That was the guy I wanted to save me from being a dowdy housewife, the guy I could trust to figure out what I needed.  I called him, he was out of state teaching a class solidifying my choice.  I booked an appointment online.

On this St. Patrick's day morning I got up early and ran out of the house while the children slept, not knowing what I wanted my head to look like.  Michael, quite literally, Thee Kilted Coiffeur, walked in for his first appointment (me) wearing an actual kilt and carrying bagpipes slug over his shoulder, no I'm not even kidding.  He has an event tonight where he'll play bagpipes, but I like to think he wore the kilt in recognition of my new do.  We talked about my hair and I explained the last cut (years ago) wasn't my favorite and how I'm scared and hyper critical now.  I think I mentioned I was going blog about it too so really no pressure at all (haha!) Michael made his suggestion and I said "do it." I trusted him. He chopped a big hunk off the bottom and held it up like a savage Celt who just got a rabbit.  I was happy to see it go.  Then scissors were flying.  I felt the weight coming off and off and off and off and finally an hour and a half later...

What I'm not sure you can see is how freaking soft and bouncy my hair is.  Get ready for the slew of photos of my head so I can show it off and try to convey how awesome it is.  I keep shaking my head like some kind of Prell commercial just to feel it move.  On this day I love my hair and I think probably I will tomorrow too and when I'm not feeling the love so much, I'll just call Michael again.  

The Kilted Coiffeur Studio Salon

12010 Jones Road Suite 105

Houston, Texas 

713.518.2173

KiltedCoiffeur.com

Two Wheels!

Not to be outdone on milestones this week, Ella and Grandpa perfected bike riding on two wheels!

Curls

I was afraid to get his hair cut because I didn't want his little curls to go away so I just cut the bangs hanging in his eyes.  Then someone mentioned "his cute little mullet" and that was the straw that broke the mother's back.  I took him to the hair cuttery while Grandpa is visiting.  Sitting in the little car went a long way and the barber was fast and efficient.  She was used to getting her photo taken and said often times she has the whole extended family circling and taking photos like paparazzi.  She did a wonderful job, the curls are still there and Jack looks less like a chubby toddling baby and more like a tall scrappy boy.

Woman

Happy International Women's Day.  On this day, I propose we redefine feminine. Let's get rid of ridiculous societal gender constructs, it would solve a lot of problems.

currently:
fem·i·nine/ˈfemənin/

Adjective:	Having qualities or appearance traditionally associated with women, esp. delicacy and prettiness.
Noun:	The female sex or gender.
Synonyms:	adjective.  female - womanly - womanlike noun.  female

I propose:
fem·i·nine/ˈfemənin/

Adjective:	Having a vagina.
Noun:	The female sex or gender.
Synonyms:	adjective.  female - woman  noun.  female

Just Words

It is believed if you know the name of a demon, you have the power to summon it with a simple utterance. We wait with tender hearts over our babies singing and cooing until they call upon us with one sweet word.

We pledge our allegiance; we pray; we vow; we debate, sway, teach and command; we change the world with words.

Mr. Limbaugh let slip his loathing of women by flinging around the word "slut", with such ease that he mistakenly used it. He assigned this word such little importance, it accidentally fell from his face, as if he, who makes a living on the backs of words, didn't understand its power.

The ease of which profanity slips from swirling frothy hate filled mouths like fouled laundry slopping out the front of a broken washing machine door, offends humanity.

Some words come with a history, they are sacred or profane and if your business is words, then you should know which are what, like any decent preacher, legislator, poet, or tattoo artist.

What About the Mens?

From Bill modeled after similar legislation to help women make informed decisions

"..."By implementing more intensive screenings before prescribing the medication and requiring outpatient educational services, we can do more to prevent the potential side effects linked to PDE-5 inhibitors," Senator Turner explained. "We must advocate for the traditional family, protect the sanctity of procreation, and ensure that all men using PDE-5 inhibitors are healthy, stable, and educated about their options--including celibacy as a viable life choice. This legislation will do just that."

more posters at Strollerderby

GOP's War on Women

Every time I start to write the post I end up sputtering a string of expletives and there are so many that have said it far better, so for now, I defer you to where my art is on the subject.

photo

SPARK 15

In the midst of moving and all the children being ill and having a house guest, I decided to join a new art project that had a deadline.  Because I was feeling relaxed about my days and thought I'd ratchet up the expectations.  Actually it was super fun.

Spark is "Open to writers, musicians, and visual artists of all kinds, SPARK is a participatory creativity event that takes place four times each year.

During each 10-day project round, participants create a new piece of work using someone else’s art, writing, or music as inspiration. All resulting work is then displayed online, alongside the piece that inspired it."  

I sent in a little ink from a few months back and received a poem from Amy Moffitt. The pieces are starting to get posted this week, I just put mine up today and am excited to see everyone's work. I find it interesting to see what inspires people and try to understand what their process is. 

go see SPARK 15  and leave a comment.

Calling In

I totally don't feel like doing anything today.  I don't want to unpack any more stuff, run any errands, do any physical therapy, wash, brush, clean or cook anything.  I just want to continue sitting in front of this screen with my fuzzy little dog at my feet, while one baby sleeps and the other is at school.  I want to stretch this morning out into a whole day of eating Girlscout cookies and drinking French press coffee while reading blogs in my pjs.

Almost There

We're almost settled in.  I have all the pertinent items for everyday living unpacked and today I moved on to artwork and serving plates.  We finished another ten day round of antibiotics and the children are ill again and I want to say to all of the parents of sick children in the world  "Keep your little pie faced germ factories at home like the rest of us sensible people.  For serious. If I hear that you have taken your children out and about, even to the Walgreens to get a prescription, allowing their plague ridden sticky fingers to touch the shopping cart my son will later lick, I will kick you in the shin. Hard."  That is all.

Pics of the new house to follow.

Found

We're moving again, just up the road this time.  Our lease was up, the landlord decided to sell and we have to get three years away from our short sale* (June 2010) before we can get a home loan again.  We are staying in the neighborhood, switching grade schools and moving to a bigger place (ART STUDIO!)  Today is the day we are packing up dishes and the very last bits before the movers come in the morning.  I keep shoving things in my pockets that I find around the house.  When I started packing I was finding hair ties and hot wheels all over but now I'm really digging into the corners of our lives and today's haul of pocket novelties for your consideration are; a tiny nickel belonging to a magician, a brown penny from 1969, an orange paper-clip, a die, a paper hedgehog, a pink Lego flower and the bebe from last year's Mardi Gras King Cake.





*I want to explain we sold short but were not underwater.  What does this mean? The house sold for less than we owed after the bank agreed.  After making two house payments for a year, it was better than us just walking away from it.  The house was appraised for double what is sold for, it was just such a depressed market, nobody was buying.

Are You in an Abusive Place?

We know that people stay for a lot of reasons—for financial reasons, out of love, because they feel pity, because they’re too afraid to leave, because they can’t afford to leave, because they have children, and so on.

Have you heard yourself say any of the following phrases?

• "It's not Rockford's fault."
• "Rockford is trying to be better."
• "There were some bad choices in the past and we're working on it."
• "It's a good city in it's own way, really."
• "Stop criticizing and and ease up, Rockford is trying hard."
• "It's not that bad, at least we aren't Detroit."
• "Rockford is actually really creative and misunderstood."
• "I don't know what I'd do if I moved."
• "It's better for the kids to stay."
• "You don't understand the way it is."
• "Being in Rockford is tough, but a few times a year it's wonderful."
• "It's hard to get Rockford to see that anything is wrong."
• "I'm strong enough to weather the tough times, I belong here with family." 
• "It's up to me to make it work."
• "It's my fault, I just need to try harder."
• "It's just a small problem with drugs and alcohol."
• "It's not really that violent."
• "It's fine if you just stay away from Rockford's bad side."
• "You should've seen Rockford back in the day."

(Yes, I know I still choose to visit a few times a year.  Rockford, it it weren't for the people I love still there, you'd be history!)

Where I'm from.


****


In all seriousness if you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship there is help.

Where I'm from

Forbes Magazine: Rockford is the 9th Most Miserable Place to Live

Rockford in the Top 20 Most Dangerous Cities

Rockford 15th Highest Jobless Rate in the Nation

Rockford Register Star Responds: More Than a Set of Statistics

Our City Our Story - Rockford, IL

When I was fifteen, I went to the hospital for my appendix, upon release the next morning I discovered someone had stolen my boots.

Heart Attack Jack

A fellow blogger and I were discussing the virtues of a weekly top ten feature when I jokingly mentioned I could do one called "Top Ten Most Dangerous Things Jack Does on a Daily Basis" and then I startled myself by rattling off the following list without having to think too hard about it.

#1 Try to eat tacks, paper clips, pennies, and/or staples from the desk drawer, and/or the sidewalk
#2 Roller skate on the end tables
#3 Pull the dog's ears until she gets mad and yelps
#4 Get knives out of the dishwasher
#5 Try to plug things in
#6 Reach things by standing tippy toed on the seat of his tricycle
#7 Throw a kicking, screaming fit half way up the stairs
#8 Run, laughing manically with a mouth full of food
#9 Stand up in the high chair and jump towards me trusting I will see him in time to catch him
#10 Be Jack

Of course, you may be reading this thinking "Why would you let him do those things?!"  to which I say, I don't!  The kid is fast. In the time it takes to put newly confiscated pair of scissors on top of the refrigerator, my son can balance a skate board atop a step stool to reach the car keys and hit the fun red button of car-honking. It's a diabolical thing to do to a lady who's first child has the concentration and patience of vulture.


Just last week I was in the kitchen finishing chores watching Jack play on the patio through the open door when I reached down under the sink to get the dishwasher soap.  When I stood up I didn't see him, instead I heard the side gate rattling.  I ran to the side yard and found Jack hurriedly closing the gate behind him, with his sister's two dollar allowance in his hand. Thank God he's polite enough to close the gate behind him or I'm pretty sure he'd have caught a cab to the zoo.  Let me remind you Jack is one and a half year old. (I can't even make the word "year" plural yet!)


So I try to keep a steady stream of new toys for Jack coming through the house.  It's enough to buy me time to help with homework, fill the washing machine, or chug coffee in silence while staring off into space. A new toy arrived in the mail yesterday in exchange for all those diaper reward points turned in from the club thing on the side of the box (like frequent pee-er miles.) I saved opening the box, until I needed to cook dinner, figuring the new toy would buy lots of time and dear bloggies, they sent my son this... 

No seriously, did you see that?! Oh yeah! Melissa and Doug and Huggies taught my son in less than ten minutes how to undo any lock, latch, or clip.  Thanks guys, thanks.

Republican Coyote Fables

Ella: A lady came up to our school and told us three stories about coyotes.  They had a lesson at the end.

Me: Did the lady belong to a tribe?

Ella: Yes, I think she was a Republican.

Cessation

I stayed up while the girls giggled late into the night.  I checked often to make sure nobody was homesick and all the barbie shoes fit.  I laid out a fine bed of pink comforters and fuzzy blankets, in a queen sized pile on the floor, just before I put the last movie on and coaxed everyone into pajamas.  I delivered pickles and fresh band aids, iced water and hugs and finally, I demanded everyone just be quiet and lay still for a minute, because I knew if they did, they would sleep.  A request for a glass of ice water came in and by the time I reached the top of the stairs again she was snoring.  The last child peered through heavy lids and blinking eyes wanting a banana.  She found four bites sufficient fuel for whatever dreams awaited.

At 2:40am I steal these last quiet bits of the night for myself. Like the last few minutes before getting out of the shower, where all the pertinent jobs are finished but I stand there letting the water fall down over me in white noise. Or when I pull in the driveway and the baby is sleeping in his car seat and I listen to the last part of Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 3 in G Major before jumping out to hike the groceries in the house.  These stolen minutes are the spaces in between the chaos, the long quiet corridor that leads from the rumpus room to the family room. Those stolen instances of calm, when everyone is taken care of and I stretch time slightly just for me, those minutes are sweet and they are mine.

This!

Zombie Logic Press Blog

then this!

The Poetry Daily

Grateful Heart

The Houston Roller Derby Awards Ceremony was Saturday night.  It was a formal, at the very elegant Nouveau Antique Art Bar and everyone looked stunning.  When you are used to seeing people all sweaty and with helmet hair it's amazing to suddenly see them looking like Ginger on Gilligan's Island. I wish I'd taken more photos.  Even the referees wore tuxedos.  I was excited to hear the awards, as people I voted for won things.  Notably my team mate and pal, Shocker Zulu won most improved.  She's gone from not being able to do a cross-over to pure blocking menace.  I love watching her play.  Shank, also my team mate and friend, took MVP because she is an amazing unexhaustable triple threat.  The award was accepted on her behalf as she was home getting ready for a marathon on Sunday morning - yeah, she's awesome like that.   Yours truly won the Purple Heart award for getting hurt this season and though it's the part of the ceremony where we give out the not so serous awards for things like Best Rack and Miss Congeniality, it meant a lot to me to know that people missed me and recognized such a tough event in my life.

Order Now!

Ella is selling girl scout cookies.  If you needed a reason  to buy them beyond tasty tasty exclusive cookies, click on THIS LINK.  Seriously everything I read made me say "Oh, good! I'm glad." Thank you Girl Scouts for being the kind of organization I'd always hoped for my daughter to belong in and for propelling society forward.

Tex

I've often wondered how long one must live a place before you feel like that's where you are from.  I've spent three Christmases in Texas and welcomed another child.  I have a library card, a voter registration and a drivers license that all say I'm a Texan. I rub my arms and make an effort to dig out socks when the temperature dips to only 65°. I like to let the ocean be my therapist, the briny water washing troubles from me with every visit. I use "ya'll".  I know that brisket is more than something you corn on St. Patrick's Day and I've tried five different kinds of tamales and seven different bread puddings. But today, I sat down at my computer with a coffee, saw a post from a place I used to work, and heard my first Midwestern accent.

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Avoid Unnecessary Furnace Service Calls - Axberg Heating from
Axberg Heating on Vimeo.

I'm a Picker and a Grinner

I went to the out picking on Sunday and found:
- Two designer dresses one vinatge  = $30.00  --- VALUED $150.00 & $320.00
- One antique two-pint pottery bed warmer = $6.00 --- VALUED $80.00
- One tall mocha coffee = $0.00* --- VALUED $3.30

Total spent $39.30 TOTAL VALUE --- $403.30
I came out $364.00 ahead!

Mike and Frank would be proud.

*They keep messing up my order and giving it to me free! Best coffee place ever.

Take Your Medicine!

Day three of antibiotic slinging and I have no idea if any of it is making it to the designated target.  I do know Amoxicillin smooths fly-aways when applied directly to the head after scraping it off one's tongue with flailing panicked hands. I just hope the pharmacist puts a little extra in there.

Wonder Child

Happy 8th birthday to my green eyed baby.  

Striped

A Bad Case of the Stripes
By David Shannon

For a bout of Bronchitis, I managed to cajole the children through a round of Godzillomiacin.  Just in time for them to contract what Ella refers to as striped throat.  Since Jack never eats what I cook; but only what he can find on the floor of his sisters room or bite off the end of a writing utensil (see pencil eraser, crayon, and marker felt,) I've given up on making antibiotic frosting and have opted for going in quick.  I get that dropper in there and squeeze with as much force as one can exert whence pinching a squishy little rubber dropper into a squirmy toddler's mouth.  Then I blow in his face, hard, until he swallows and offer his bewildered demeanor an M&M.   After I've used my super ninja medicine giving skills, to get ten days of Pinkacyllin into Jack's tightly pursed lips, we're going to pretend we're cowboys for a while and wear bandannas over our faces when we go out.

Santorum? I Barely Even Know 'Em.

Quick facts:

Budget busting tax plan
Pro foreign aid, including troops
Against gay marriage
Intelligent design
Wife and seven children
Pro life
Google rank problems


Thirty year time line:

Graduated High School 1976
BA in Political Science at Penn State in  (Tau Epsilon Phi Frat) 1980
Master of Business Admin 1981
Law degree, Pennsylvania Bar, Kirkpatrick & Lockhart 1986
Married 1987
House of Representatives 1990
US Senate 1995
Re elected US Senate 2000
Google Bombed 2003
First Book 2005
Unseated 2006
Second Book 2006

Changes

Blowing my ACL and giving up skating was a shock to the psyche. Unlike when I was just pregnant, I needed to be cautious with my leg and let it heal, I had to relearn how to walk up and down steps and make it to physical therapy three times a week.  It takes up all of my energy chasing a fraggle haired, little danger man around the house while also being mindful of the gentle feelings of a drama loving seven year old.  Hiring a sitter and going to derby practice once a week over November and December to stand in the middle of the track I so desperately wanted to be on, seemed like it would be torturous, both physically and mentally even though I missed it so much.

In January I hope to be cleared for endurance skating and would like to start attending Houston Roller Derby's Recreational League on Tuesday nights. I want to have a little of it back, with less of a commitment, at least until I'm done healing.  Then I'll reassess my situation and think about what is next.  I'd like time to plan and dream and anticipate what's next.  I'd like to be able to have a little control back even though I don't know what will come of it.  I just want it to be on my terms.

I miss skating until my legs are numb, my lungs burning with lactic acid and ego. I miss celebrating and being proud about the little accomplishments, both my team mates and mine.  I miss being soaking wet with sweat and delirious with happy.  I miss having all sorts of interesting people in my life every week and knowing who is ill, in love, has a blister and what people are seeing, eating, reading and listening to, what their goals are. I wasn't ready to give it up so abruptly.

I am used to living along side an army of diverse, tough women. It's hard when life changes without permission. Sometimes it takes a long time to adjust. I'm just now feeling like I live in Texas, despite my third Christmas in the Bayou.  I still feel like I can't buy expensive jeans because I just had a baby, though Jack is looking towards age two and riding a trike. Though I don't see my skatey-mates enough to tell you what color their hair is any more, letting go of these women and the derby community may take a lifetime.

Middle of Book

Woody Guthrie's New Years Resolutions 1942, stolen from Boing Boing.  

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.

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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

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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.