Friday, March 30, 2007

Ozone Depleter

Although I am quite a tomboy, a guy-girl through and through, I do have a few feminine qualities. Okay, now that I give it some thought I probably only have about two or three. The biggest one I have is that I don’t break wind in mixed company. The Hubs and I have been together for about 7.5 years and I could probably count on two fingers the times I have contributed to ozone depletion in his presence. Last night, however, I think I sunk an iceberg somewhere. Part of the previous night’s meal included beans cooked with garlic, onions, a ham hock and a jalapeno. I also made it a staple at yesterday’s lunch. The time between then and when I went to bed was just enough to manufacture it into toxic gas form. I tucked myself in to bed before the Hubs to read for a spell. He joined me a little while later and as we rehashed how much I hated the movie Borat, an atrocity we had just tried to watch, I released what I thought was a well contained, stuffed under the covers and never to see the light of day, fart but within seconds, his body stiffened next to mine and he waved his hand frantically in front of his nose. “Did you just let one?” he asked in a voice filled with disbelief. I immediately felt my face get warm and I wanted to stick my head under the sheets in shame but I knew that was a really bad idea. “What, are you a trucker? Brutus?” he quizzed. “Who’s Brutus?” I choked through laughs. “That fat guy on the Popeye cartoon!” At this point tears were streaming down my face and I couldn’t stop laughing, the embarrassment was too much to bear. “Oh my God, that’s the worst ever!” he cried out. Yes, yes it was.

I have several girlfriends that have no qualms about stinking up the joint and claiming it. I don’t mind if they do it when I’m around. I just don’t want to share the experience with anyone. But I’ll tell, you about it.

W Needs A Haircut

I whacked on W's hair last night, just a nip here and there. Getting him to sit still for a full on cut would be impossible. I fear taking him to a barber because the styles simply suck...the buzz cut, the crew cut, the Ceasar, the horrendous bowl cut or the little business man's cut. The mama's cut is what he's getting and it's free.

These were taken before the trim and therefore inspired me to get to choppin'...

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Oh Lookie! Two Entries In One Day!

Since the weather has been so much nicer lately and the days longer, we’ve been taking advantage of the new yard (with 6-foot fence to keep the rugrat safely inside) and extended patio area. Last night we grilled out the same meal we cooked about this time last week but instead of vino, we drank cava and some frozen rum/banana/pineapple spooky frappe thing that the Hubs whipped up (needed more rum). I pulled weeds like a normal obsessive-compulsive “I can’t sit still ever” person while W watered the grass, his jeans and his shirt. He figured out that if he touched the end of the hose to his eye he could get water directly in it and this is good for I don’t know what but it amused him and that’s what counts. Since I got pregnant, the Hubs has been the sole meal maker when time allows and this is nearly always. I used to get off on cooking elaborate meals from scratch, spending time mincing, roasting, peeling, shredding but now I’d rather change several dirty diapers in a row. The upshot of the Hubs playing Julia Childs is that his culinary talent has really improved. He dices well, measures precisely and is patient to make sure everything reaches the proper temp but oh, the mess! The mess that looks like W and his entire classroom has been cooking us dinner and not an able-bodied adult! Shiny, sticky spots glisten on the floor, bits and pieces of squashed food frame the cabinets. The countertops become a gourmet landfill. Each evening I have to wonder if he’ll always be more Edward Scissorhands than the Naked Chef. That’s okay though. The clean up goes fast and the labor is worth it because the food is damn good.

While on the subject of food, I am actively making efforts to eat better. I figured since I never had time to eat during the conference and ate vegetarian-only in Marfa that the granola groundwork had been laid. Of course most of my meals are paired with some vintage of wine or other al-kee-holic beverage but I’m not willing to be completely healthy. Besides hooch makes bad food taste better. Earlier today, I forced myself to eat a salad full of weeds. It’s one of those bulk organic arrangements that was put together by the feet of a squirrel. There were giant random leaves and long grasses in there. There were green stems of what used to house cilantro but only suggestions of the leaves remained. Certain bites were pungent and some made me feel like a horse put out to pasture. I started to think that this was a joke package of greens that some funny little field picker had compiled. I do realize that the American edible mindset is a very limited one but I’m trying to branch out. I just don’t want to actually eat branches.

I Am Doll Parts

My nose looks like cleaved tenderloin from the constant Kleenex wiping. Yet another daycare or playground bug W has managed to share with the family. I woke up this morning feeling like my head was stuffed inside a giant sock. While I was gone over the weekend, he shared a little something with the Hubs, too. Instead of returning to a duo as excited to see me as a pair of Lab pups, I got the nipping of the shins from W while the Hubs just looked at me forlornly and with a little blame, I think. I know it’s harder for him to spend large chunks of time with the kiddo than it is for me. He’d rather be playing chess online, watching Mad Money or working a crossword puzzle in peace. Plus he’s a hypochondriac so every sniffle and cough is taken very seriously. Someone please call Dr. Quinn.

I’m wearing this really cute summery top today, sleeveless and all, that I got at Old Navy. Flip flops, too. I like to wear things like this when I know the weather is going to be bad (major thunderstorms on the radar for today). It’s my sort of “eff you, Mother Nature, I play by my own rules” or something like that. The tank top would look awesome on me if I had any boobs. They have completely vacated the premesis and I am as flat as a pancake. Completely disheartening, especially since I found my E cup nursing bras in a box of pregger clothes I lent to a friend yesterday. Her hooters are bigger now than they were AFTER she had her first child and we pointed and made sweeping hand gestures around her giant ta-tas in the front yard for all the neighbors to see. She suffers the same consequence as me after nursing and also ends up with nothing but a breastbone. We often talk about getting a tandem boob job in L.A. and then enjoying recovery on the beach with nothing but dental floss covering our new girls. Should we wear waxed or unwaxed floss?

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Marfa On My Mind

I had every intention of blogging daily during my recent trip to West Texas but I never had the energy or gumption to follow through. I needed more time to process, to weed out, to lighten up.

It’s a six-hour drive to Marfa from Austin. Five of them have to pass before I start to let go of the things that crowd my mind and fray my nerves. The hill country landscape shifts from low-lying mesquite and sage to massive buttes and plateaus as far as the eye can see. Your mind surrenders to the vastness. The road looms ahead of you in an endless straight line and you settle in to autopilot, the cruise control locked in at a legal 80 mph.

We got there in time to freshen up and check out an art opening. The usual and talented suspects were present…Julie Speed, Boyd Elder, Vance Knowles and more. The energy is always lively and friendly at these things. Later, we were thoroughly entertained by a band called Japanther. They began their set by laughing and shoving each other up and down two ramps flanking a small stage, sometimes causing spills and colliding bodies. Two guys and two girls. The girls performed a sort of dance routine that involved lots of jumping, a couple of bananas, hands covering bouncing boobs and disappearing moments into the crowd. You can always count on refreshing creativity here in this strange little town.

The next day we lazily walked our buns to the Pizza Foundation for some rockin’ pie and mild sightseeing. We spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around the casita, reading, napping, and gazing in to the horizon. Pure bliss. I laid out in the tiny yard most of the time and just looked up at the flawless sky while watching crows soaring in long, circular patterns, their wings never flapping. What an opportunity to empty the mind and refill it with things that need serious attention and thought.

Later, we staged a cocktail/nosh hour complete with Prosecco, a juicy New Zealand vino and lots of uppity snacks in our little yard. We invited our hosts to join us but only Tom and his sassy little RCA pooch, Clifford, came. What a fun we had telling tales, sharing a bit of local gossip, and laughing out loud in the open air. That evening we strolled back over to the gallery and watched Sam Prekop and Archer Pruitt perform. Kind, gentle, lovely. We mingled with old and new friends before heading home in a slight wine fog.

Sunday we drove to Big Bend. It was my first time. A Big Bend virgin. Man, oh man, what views! And Texas is freakin’ huge. Luann and I started out on a smallish hike, the Lost Mine trail, but it got cut short due to rain. One minute we were gregariously tromping through the woods and tolerating the droplets but as soon as we reached the edge of the summit, we found that wild weather was just on the other side, waiting like a preying tiger and it assaulted us with strong winds and heavy downpour. We drove further in to the park in search of a dry hike and ended up doing about three miles to what is known as “the Window” or something like that. Getting out, stretching our legs and breathing that sweet air was the best. We journeyed back to Marfa and whipped up a lovely vegetarian meal before heading to a get together on a nearby ranch. We drove in the dark thirteen miles north of Marfa in search of a cattle gate flanked by two reflectors. Looking for said landmarks in the pitch with no streetlights was no easy feat. After finding the gate and puddle jumping the aftermath of the earlier rainstorm, we finally arrived at a lovely house set way back on the land. Its windows glowed with the warmth of the candles burning within. We found dinner to be over and everyone lounging comfortably either at the old farmhouse dinner table or out back around the campfire. It was a motley group of artists, musicians, dreamers and doers. Liz Lambert was our most gracious host. We listened in on tales of her family, life in a small town, and the characters that made it so special to be there. After a while, we all converged in the dining room and cozied up as a guitar was passed. Beautiful songs filled the empty spaces of the room like warm syrup in waffle divots. It was organic, captivating, and just plain wonderful.

Our trip home yesterday was a wet one and we got back to Austin just in time for the drive time traffic jam. Reality of city life came crashing back much too soon as we tried to cling to the mental memoir of our fabulous mini vaca.

I have pics to post but have to find the cord to the camera first.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Running Away From Home

The post-conference recovery has been slow and, thankfully, so have things at the office. We’re playing catch up, billing clients for onsite add ons and trying to figure out which end is our ass and which is our brains. It’s all mush to me (sorry for the mental visual).

W has resumed being totally mommy-centric much to the Hubs' dismay. I heard him mention to W this morning how bummed he was about playing second fiddle now that I’m around. It’s not fair but you can’t argue with a toddler. I get out of eyeshot and W immediately hollers out “Muma?” and goes racing around like a displaced pup. It’s endearing and unnerving at the same time. Last night, the little worm wouldn’t go to sleep so I stuck him in bed with me only to be tortured by his wiggling around and kicking. I made use of the tiny swinging heels by turning my back and letting him pound away. He eventually dozed off but I was left to wonder how other families actually spend entire nights sharing their beds with little people. W flips and flops like a huge mosquito larva and sometimes his giant noggin’ connected with mine. Speaking of melon heads, the doc told us Tuesday that he’s 50% for height, 10% in weight, and 90 for his cabeza grande. We may need those lead shoes I mentioned a while back before too long.

W’s greatest parental weapon to date is saying “Pwease” when he wants something. Works like a charm as we can’t resist the sweetness of the plead. As a result, he’s gotten a squishy car that wasn’t worth the $8, completely soaked himself playing with the water hose fully clothed, played in my truck for at least an hour, and buckets of yogurt. It could be worse, I guess.

Tonight is date night. We're skipping out on the Four Seasons company dinner and spending time with the parents of CaCa (as W calls her) from W's school instead. I have hung out with CaCa's mom only once before and it was awesome. We were the duo sitting at Sesame Street Live with our tots in our laps while sharing red vino out of a large sippy cup. Go ahead, nominate us for Mommy of the Year.

Tomorrow, a girlfriend from SXSW and I are heading to Marfa for 4 days for much needed R n R (that’s definitely NOT rock n roll). I’m leaving the boys behind this trip. There would be no way I could fully recover with both of them in my orbit. I’m taking the computer so the daily blogging will continue. I need the Rx.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007


I sit here and think of all that has happened since I last posted and realize I need to take a serious vacation. 83 parties we produced, people, 83 in 9 days. After several 14 to 17 hour slogs in a row, I wasn't sure I was going to make it to the end. At a certain point, everything became an act of smoke and mirrors, an exercise in digging deep within to muster what was needed to keep the momentum moving forward and clients happy. Freakin’ challenging but we all made it (except for my poor boss who is down and out with the flu). I remember briefly taking a load off in my hotel room, just a mere 10 minutes to rest my bones, and being jolted awake from an upright position by my cell phone. I had just flat out passed out sitting up. I’m still feeling the sting of fatigue as I write this. I never once had a hangover, never had a chance to let it all hang out, but my body is hungover and will be until I can get indefinitely horizontal.

There were many days in a row that I didn’t get to see W and on the days I did, it was only in the morning. I returned home at the end of this conference to find him taller, hair longer, with more teeth, and full of new words. He is also covered in a horrible (but non-contagious) rash caused by a bout of rotavirus (exploding landmines of rocket-like poop with a force that boggles the mind and blasts through clothing) he suffered a few weeks back. He looks like he’s covered in Braille. He has also claimed a level of independence that surprises me. The Hubs tells a funny story of going to pick up W from school one afternoon and trying his best to get W to follow him out the door. His “I’m leaving now,” and “Daddy’s going to go,” had no impact on the boy. After many gentle threats, the Hubs made his way to the classroom patio, just a few steps away from the exit gate. He said he breathed a sigh of relief when W marched in his direction as if his only intention was to vacate the building with him but instead he grabbed the classroom door and closed it in the Hubs’ face leaving him alone on the stoop as W hiked his way back to whatever it was he was doing. What a little fink.

Many props go to Miss Jo who became other mother and not only took care of W but kept the house in order. Gogo came in for the weekend and took up some of the slack as well. The Hubs really stepped up to the plate and I am so thrilled, grateful and happy knowing he didn’t maim W and W didn’t drive him around the bend. I think the two even had some serious fun together.

Now, let’s get back to our regularly scheduled programming, shall we?