The Internet Gripith

So this is what has happened...I finally joined Facebook about two weeks ago after resisting with every ounce of marrow in my core. For those who don’t know (“Hi Dad!”) it’s that social networking site that, without warning, shoves you right back into ones childhood of passed notes (“Will you go with me? Yes…no…maybe. Check one.”), roller skating with your crush, science fair mishaps, skipping school to swim in a boyfriend’s pool, weekend campouts, high school days, college days…you get the idea. Thankfully my rendezvous with Facebook was like a summer romance. Initially I was wooed, excited and smitten. I hadn’t seen nor heard from SO MANY PEOPLE from my past and it’s been amazing to reconnect but, as I hoped, I don’t feel the need to constantly lurk and post comments and such. I am grateful to now have this huge virtual rolodex and a way to reach out to everyone, make plans for visits and catch up on the last 20+ years. It is remarkable to see how everyone has aged, how some people changed so drastically and some barely at all. And let’s not forget their own children, the offspring of tin foil apple core bong makers and once drunken water skiing slalom competitors.

Oh, and I just joined Twitter last night. Let the wild rumpus start!

Yesterday was a much deserved day off after the success of a huge Mardi Gras condo topping off event I coordinated in downtown Austin the day before. I decompressed while doing yard work and W deemed it warm enough to do this…























Love Texas in February.

Hello.

Working like a beaver here (Speaking of beaver, I remember when I was about 12 and living in far east Texas, my best friend’s dad has a CB radio in his RV. We would hang out there, drink pink champale we swiped from her mom's secret booze hiding place and eat our way to the bottom of a hot sauce jar and bag of tortilla chips. That was pretty cool but the best part was talking on the CB to truckers. We never said dirty or bad things to them mainly because we didn’t know how to talk that way yet but we did say these two things often, “Breaker one nine for a west bound, you got an east bound a-lookin.” and “Hey, any you truckers want a commercial beaver…come back.” We had NO idea what a commercial beaver was.) Seems some event planning business has come my way along with a lovely little sponsorship sales position for this sweet film fest . We are currently looking for all sorts of sponsors for the 5 day hoo-ha so if anyone is interested, drop me a line and I’ll send you one of the most impressive decks I’ve ever seen. Will make you want to jump right in pronto. The work has encouraged me to start my own business so I’m going thru the motions of getting it all set up. VERY exciting and momma totally needs some scratch y’all. Plus I LOVE planning and participating in events, parties, shindigs, whatever you got. It’s in my blood and I feel blessed to be here. The timing is perfect as well.

W is going through some super-duper hardheaded phase that makes me want to send him to boarding school. Is there such a thing as a boarding school for belligerent tots? How about baby boot camp? Seriously, his scowls, pursed lips, folded arms and defiant attitude is making momma nutters. I thought backtalk happened at 16 not 3? Much too early for this nonsense. He does have his unbearably sweet moments where he “wubs” me and says, “I want to give you a big hug” and goodies like that but, man, he’s been a little challenging lately. Please tell me it’s temporary.

Oh, the other day the Hubs and I made la bomba shrimp and corn salad. This is serious goodness with the right collaboration of flavors, textures and color. I like to add chopped tomato, too. This is not a meal we would eat with friends because we literally stuff it in our faces like participants at a pie eating contest. There's just something about it. Give it a try for sure.

Hells Yeah

Well folks, you know sometimes dreams do come true.

I’ve blogged about that little speck on the map of Texas called Marfa many times, yearned to be out there and be a part of its great vastness/artiness/solitude. Well…careful what you wish for. I’ve landed a gig “managing” a campground/yurt/Spartan trailer community there this summer, a project that needs a little kick in the Toughskins so it will be up and running soon (of course, “soon” in Marfa is a relative term). The details are still being fleshed out but the plans are coming together. In the meantime, I’ve set the course to become a seasonal employee at my current place of employment (thank you, thank you, thank you) and am gently and thoughtfully unraveling our roots here to take up temporary residence there. It’s a little scary making these changes…taking W out of school for four months, cobbling together a network of toddler-friendly resources for him out there, setting up camp in the middle of nowhere…but it will be an adventure and it’s not like I’m harnessing up the mules to the covered wagon and heading west to look for gold with the fear of starvation and Indian mayhem looming on the horizon. The tot and I have a home to live in while there and the Hubs will be with us when he’s not playing shows (and with two booking agents making those calls there seems to be plenty of shows) but everyone should put this funky, fabulous part of our fair state on their radar for the summer and come see us. It’s pretty awesome there.

Hump Day Catch Up

Monday morning at the office began with a power surge so strong it knocked out our email until just this morning. Several client emails so far have alluded to the fact that I “must be on vacation” and they hope I’m having fun wherever I am! But no, I’ve been sitting here for the past 2 days twiddling me thumbs. Boring. The office did take a field trip yesterday to the Shoe Pavilion. What a collection of ugly shoes, or so I thought.

So here’s a pile of the latest news:

-Went home this past weekend to attend my grandmother’s funeral. Tons of family there and folks I hadn’t seen in ages. Everyone’s either gotten much older or has procreated and both are interesting phenomena to me. The faces of the elderly have changed dramatically but their eyes and the sounds of their voices reveal who they are so clearly. The faces of the children resemble their parents in an almost cartoonish but beautiful way. We all had a good laugh at the little people we have brought in to the family over the years. I had volunteered to do a reading at the service and it turned out to be the lengthiest and verbally challenging. I had a few minutes to read through it but was a bit nervous knowing I’m terribly Bible verse challenged. When cued, I wandered up to the pulpit, bowed as instructed, positioned the mic (which promptly flopped forward and thumped loudly on to the actual Bible) and took a deep breath. I started off smoothly but soon the words began to swim together and I stumbled over the big ones never used in the English language and barely made it through. As soon as I joined the Hubs back at my seat, he leaned over and whispered, “Sobriety test.”

-W got to spend lots of time with his two cousins from Kentucky. The girls flank him in age on either side and so they made for a mighty team. Meanwhile the rest of us played Wii ‘til our arms hurt. What happen to working on a puzzle as a family activity? Lo impact, less cursing in front of the children.

-On Monday evening I relinquished my beloved Xterra to CarMax. It was a bittersweet separation but completely necessary knowing that the mileage was high, that it needed some pricy repairs and that I had a car payment due on Saturday. W and I hung out there for nearly four long hours. Thank goodness they are cool with tots running amok and keep in mind, too, that every time I test drove a car, I had to reinstall the carseat. Nice. The Volvo wagon I had my heart set on turned out to be junky and worn out cosmetically. The newer Xterras seemed so cheaply manufactured compared to my solid ’01. I was still totally in love with a gas guzzling SUV (I know, it’s so wrong) and ended up driving a Pathfinder off the lot. It’s like an Xterra with chest hair…leather, deep tinted windows, all power, 4WD, Bose system, etc. Crappy gas mileage so I guess I’ll forgo all overpriced franchised coffee stops and buy some carbon credits instead. Totally serious about that.

-The Hubs is in the studio again all week so W and I are an exclusive duo. Tonight we’ll be heading to the rock n’roll chop shop to get W’s ‘do done. He looks like a Monkee band member reject. Pics to come.

La Vie en Chaos

Why did I ever stop blogging? How am I going to remember all of the details of W's last three months? Remember all of the ugly and beautiful minutiae of life leading up to now? I felt uninspired after Christmas, overwhelmed by my job, bored by the monotony of the week’s routine. But wonderful things happened and sad things happened and the hardest part of my job happened and here we are now.

The holidays. I have to look at my calendar to remember. Family came together for the celebration in my hometown. My granny surprised me with a visit from West Virginia, my father surprised me as well and I got to spend some time with my grandmother in her majestic home not knowing it would be the last time I’d see her.

New Years. The Hubs played a gig in Arkansas, outside, in 20-degree weather. I, very smartly, chose to stay home and watched the fireworks at midnight from my bedroom window.

January. Worked hard and prepared for the events that happened in March.

February. New York for Fashion Week with my sister-in-law. Backstage at the Diane Von Furstenberg show, front row for the Angel Sanchez show, gazed dreamily at the jaw-dropping collection designed by, crap, I can’t remember his name, and stood across from Tyra Banks and Nigel Barker (who is stunning in person, ladies, edible) at the Jill Stuart show. The month ended with hour-long conference calls and a workload from hell. And there was also a totally fun Oscar party, a Pillow Fight Club match at the Beauty Bar and Friday evenings at Salvation Pizza with the foxy collective of parents and tots from W’s school.

March. 98 parties in 9 days, high profile clients, low profile me, keeping my nose to the grindstone and my poor crippled feet under the faucet in the tub. Hotel living is for the birds, especially when you have to do it in the city you live in but it’s a necessary evil. Life gets in the way of work during this time. My deepest regards to all the family and friends that helped me, the Hubs, and W get through it all.

My dear grandmother passed away last Thursday morning. It was good I was the first warm body to the convention center office so I could grieve alone. She was an amazing, caring woman with a heart of gold. My fondest childhood memories are of her and the home she opened up to us and the neighborhood rugrats we brought to her door. Her last words were, “Where in the hell’s that orange juice?” Grandmother, you are truly missed.

So this weekend I am off with the fam to the beach. I need some serious RnR but I promise to keep blogging, to keep up with the details of W’s milestones and happenings in our little world because lord knows I can’t remember it all. Afterall, this is for him.

Arugula

Lordy. Where do I start? Let’s see…Britney Spears ran over another photographer’s foot? Amy Winehouse gets booed off stage? W kicks his paci addiction? Umm, yeah, let’s start with W. Way more compelling than Winehouse and Spears.

So W and I talked about a paci intervention for several days. I told him that intervention meant that the pacis go in the trash and he gets a big surprise in return and on a designated evening I presented him a toddler racetrack with all sorts of bells and whistles. His paci fell to the floor as his jaw dropped open. He gathered up the pacis I had collected and stuffed them in a paper bag. We both walked over to his trashcan and tossed them in. Simple. As. That. Sure, he mentions his long lost pacis on occasion and has been staying up in bed with me 'til about 10:30 p.m. but he also says, “Pacis in trash, pacis bye-bye.” I think the fact that we talked about paci rehab prior to paci disposal helped so it wasn’t a surprise to him that it was going to happen. Now it’s just a boy and his blankie and I couldn’t be happier.

Last weekend, our neighbors got their door kicked in and much stuff stolen. Curiously enough, we had just had a conversation with some other neighbors (they live next door to the ones that got robbed) about the abundance of break-ins in our cozy little ‘hood just the day before. After some research on our end, we found that our general area has been hit 80 times in the last month by thieves. Yeah, for real. They kick in your door, take your stuff and haul ass out. 80 times this has happened. Are we paranoid? You bet. We have since put in another deadbolt on our each of our exterior doors and installed a security system just this morning. Next up, a dog. One thing about situations like this is you really get to know who your neighbors are. We’re forming a small army. I would hate to mess with us now.

Y’all, next week is Thanksgiving. Now how did that happen?

And you know what’s better than chocolate? Boggy Creek arugula. I’m not kidding. Either on Saturday morning or Wednesday morning, get your buns in your car (or on your bike) and head over to the east side to get you some. If you haven’t been to this small farm, you have to indulge yourself. Take the kiddies, too, if you got’em. The produce is still warm from the sun and there are some free samples of different stuff to nibble. Lovely chicken coop and a tempting sand pile, too. It’s all I can do to keep from eating a whole pile of the veggies before I can get them in the fridge. Please go. It’s local. It’s fresh. It’s supportive.

How’s work, you ask? Crazy, nutso, insane. Remember that conference that we work on once a year while doing other events throughout the year? Well, last year we knocked out 80+ parties in 9 days and we’re already working on double the number of parties we were working on this time last year (cue Psycho shower scene music here). My Christmas list includes much wine and Valium.

Monster In Our Midst

We found out over the weekend that W’s favorite band is the Pixies. We put on Surfer Rosa and for 20 non-stop minutes, he ran in circles swinging the two t-shirts he swiped from the laundry pile on the couch and bobbed his head. He was intense as he bounced around in his imaginary mosh pit. He seemed possessed by the music, determined to elbow anyone in his way. I was grateful when he ran out of gas and plopped down for a drink of water. The dancing/thrashing/smashing was funny at first but then started to creep me out. Too reminiscent of teen angst already. Lordy, what we have in store for us.

W latest milestone is to defy being buckled in his car seat. He goes rigid with resistance as if I’m strapping him in the electric chair. It’s really frustrating to have to climb in the truck to secure his rigamortis frame. Today he was anti-blue or black Crocs so I chose the black ones for him. They were airborne as I was leaving the driveway. Thank goodness they’re not clogs. At the moment I can appreciate their foamy softness. What to do with the little devil…

My work hours recently changed from 9 to 5 and that’s kinda thrown things off a bit. I’m still trying to figure out how to divide the day so I get things done and take care of my mind/body/spirit somewhere therein and heckling the Hubs does not count as health care. I’m considering taking some yoga classes but the fact that I will probably die of muscular shock a third of the way through the class is discouraging. And if I don’t die in the class, I will definitely die of muscular soreness the next morning. I cancelled my gym membership Sunday after they called to tell me I owed them some money. I got so frustrated I just told them to stick their membership. What happened was that the Hubs changed the credit card number for billing but forgot to include my joint membership on the switch so suddenly I owed them $80. Fine, whatever. I can’t get over to your stinky, germy facility to work out anyway. The guilt of not going has now evaporated. Poof.

I Saw It Before It Was There

Last Wednesday, I was drinking sake in Marfa. That Thursday, I cured a slight hangover by building a Mongolian yurt. On Friday, my bottom lip looked like a botched botox treatment courtesy of the West Texas altitude and sun. Saturday, I was rockin' and rollin' with the guests of El Cosmico and Sunday we put the whole thing to bed. Monday, my travel companion and I filled up with on a heavy duty country breakfast in Ft. Davis and promptly sank to the bottom of Balmorrhea Springs upon impact.

This is the last 5 days in brief. We were hired to work this amazing event. What a time. Here it is in pictures.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7852978@N08/sets/72157602138131992/?page=2

More to come…

Shame On Me

Sorry about the absentee-ism, y’all. I’ve been busy and lazy and uninspired. Working on 4 MAJOR events at the job with all but one of them happening before my sabbatical starting on June 16th. All of my creative juices have been dumped there. I also worked an event this past Saturday night for a set of twin girls that turned 25. Mad Hatter theme at a local bar and let me just say that when the DJ played the much requested Sweet Home Alabama, the group of 35 went wild…and most were barefoot…in a bar. ‘Nuff said.

We decided that since I am taking W out of school for eight weeks, we should keep him in the infant room instead of moving him up like he was supposed to do. In August he will make this transition over to the bigger kids room. Several of his buddies are moving on without him though. He will see them beyond the chain-linked fence and they will touch fingertips and toss toys back and forth like a sad, romantic movie. It’s better this way.

And for your reading pleasure, here are the latest escapades and highlights of W’s world…

-First off, poop in the tub is the grossest thing ever and W thinks so too. Yes, it happened one evening and I could hear W exclaiming “Yucky!” over and over while I went to get his pajamas (for you parental watch dogs out there, for the record, W’s room is practically IN the bathroom so I wasn’t out of his sight for less than 5 seconds). At first I wasn’t so sure what the “yucky” was as the tub was filled with foamy bubbles like a giant latte but the truth was soon revealed as he recoiled on his tip toes at one end of the tub and pointed to the tan turd breaching like a baby whale at the other end. I now have OSHA on speed dial.

-W is big into giving hugs and will come at you mid-play and say, “Hug” like it’s a military command. He leans in a little, gives a noncommittal squeeze and then resumes play like it never happened. Occasionally though the hug is accompanied with a kiss, the awkward preteen, open mouth sort with eyes wide open that even gives me pause.

- His vocabulary is huge, people, and it’s totally freaky that he can actually tell me stuff now, in complete sentences and with complete meaning. He might even be keeping a journal. He’s growing much too fast.

-He now sings Melmo’s World and Old MacDonald while playing the piano. So gotta get this on film. He also counts to 5 and can say the first 5 letters of the alphabet as well. Little genius.

-Memorial Day, I awoke at 9. 9! In the a.m.! We usually are up and at ‘em no later than 7. W had gone to bed at his usual 8:30 p.m. I was certain he was either ill…or dead but the god of parenting was smiling on us and neither was true and we were all getting some freebie Zzzzzs. In fact, the last time W was sick was on May 16th so we are fast approaching a record of healthfulness but I have probably just jinxed us by writing this.

More to come…

Commited

A sickly sweet stench fills my truck. I can smell it each time I climb in. It’s origin is a mystery but I’m sure W has something to do with it…discarded fruit roll up, half emptied apple juice box, baggie of orange slices stuffed in a crease in the seat. Must dig around before it evolves into a homemade penicillin specimen.

Communication with the sprout has been so delightful lately. Seems like just overnight his infantile babbling has shifted to subject-verb or subject-direct object with real meaning and desire. “Larder (water), pwease.” “Hep up!” “Mumma big truck.” “Raycar fast, varoooom!” The other evening I was enjoying some soup that the Hubs had made earlier in the day and I was telling W that it was hot soup, yummy soup, that Dada made the soup, etc. W chimed in saying “Soup hot. Hot soup. Mama soup. Hot mama. Hot mama.” Fantastic!

Lately I’ve been more torn than usual between my responsibility to my job and to my son. I think all working moms go through this. It might have more to do with the longer daylight hours, that childhood sense that school will be out for the summer, and wanting to climb into a car or plane and go away with the family for a long while. Realistically though I feel like I’m missing out on so many small things that he’s doing now in leaps and bounds. Everything he does is like receiving a little gift, each one different and unique from the other. I want to be there for as much of it as possible. His teachers are the main recipients of said gifts and although they love and adore him, he’s not their child so they don’t reel with wonder and amazement at his small feats. Tearing myself away from him each morning is still just as heartbreaking as it was the first time I took him to daycare except now he says my name and runs to attach himself to my legs like a baby octopus or just flops in defeat into the lap of Miss Amy and sobs. In the mornings, I can hear his little voice calling out my name like an urgent request. He immediately heads upstairs to find me getting dressed for work. The sight of me is a relief to him. I can see it in his lit up expression but I hate knowing that his lovely squinty-eyed smile will soon be replaced with tears.

Then there’s the other side of the coin, the one that makes me wonder if I could actually spend all that time at home and surrender my professional self…and sanity. I go stir crazy when I don’t have projects of some magnitude on my plate. There’s only so many weeds, so much laundry, grocery shopping, tiding up and isolation one can experience before the mommy madness sets in.

I guess I’m looking for some flexibility but what I want to ask for I need to be committed to like a religion to make it work. It’s all a balancing act, a very complicated and stressful balancing act.

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.

Whoa.

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?

Hiatus

Well, dang it. I'm just too busy to post so I'm going to take some time off so I can focus solely on work, work and more work. I will return March 19th or so, if I make it through.

Take care!

Nurse Nurse No More

A weekend in LA was exactly what I needed more than I could’ve ever imagined. After many days of ice, rain, cabin fever, not to mention16 months of raising W, a flight headed west to hook up with the Hubs couldn’t have come at a better time. Like a CODA candidate, I sat by myself at the airport coffee shop wrestling with feelings of child abandonment and unwelcomed inactivity. I imagined my son’s busy little body running between the tables and chairs of the groggy coffee campers awaiting their flights. I missed his energy and smiles already. He would be in the safe arms of his Gogo at the end of the day and I really had nothing to worry about. It was our first time apart with great distance in between and I wasn’t dealing with it too well. It probably didn’t help that I was reading Alternadad by Neal Pollack, a hilariously raw writer whose blog I read on a regular basis. The chapters were filled with the trials and tribulations of raising a youngin’ and many things hit home. On the plane, I sped through the pages, Bloody Mary in hand. No one sat on my row. I was completely alone and was quickly beginning to love it.

Laurie plucked me from the airport and we caught up on the details of her life…filmmaking, dating, living in LA and missing Austin... while we drove to Santa Monica. She took the scenic route to the beach (translation: sorta lost), which she apologized for, but I completely enjoyed the extra girlie time. We met the Hubs poolside at the hotel and dined on overpriced nibbles while soaking up sunshine. It was wonderfully warm and somewhere other than home. In a word…awesome.

That evening Laurie and I went to see the Hubs play at the Mint. They opened for the kick ass band, the Mother Truckers. I barely made it to the end of the Small Stars set before I was begging a cabbie to drive me back to the hotel as fast as he could. I had been feeling nauseous and it wasn’t letting up. Work-related stress, fatigue (of course W had to get up at 5:30 a.m. this morning…3:30 a.m. LA time), and the anxiety of leaving W behind had caught up with me. I barely made it to the hotel room before arfing in the loo. I curled up in bed in the fetal position and passed out with relief.

Saturday the Hubs and I walked down to the beach for some breakfast. He rented roller blades and I chose to sit on my duff and chill. Dolphins swam in the distance, surfers negotiated small waves and sailboats silently outlined the horizon. A sense of complete calmness easily washed over me, an unfamiliar sensation in the hustle bustle world of parenting, event planning, penny pinching and so forth. I wanted to just sink into the sand and disappear. Bliss.

We attended an amazing private party at a recording studio that evening. The Small Stars knocked the soiree out of the park. Guy Fantasy made every off color joke about LA that he could and made some new friends despite his salty rants. Jackson Brown was there. So was Lisa Loeb. The guy who wrote “Let’s Get Physical” was there, too. We mingled our minglers off and headed back to the hotel. We had an 8 a.m. lobby call. Yuck.

When we got home, W had just gone down for a nap so of course I woke him up. He looked at me squinty-eyed as if to say “Oh yeah, you’ve been missing, haven’t you?” When he finally came to, he repeated “Mama” over and over again and pointed at my face. It was so heart-warming. The rest of the evening was “Mama, Dada, Mama, Dada,” as if he had just learned how to say it. We could’ve eaten him with a spoon. I was concerned about how the next morning would go. In the past, that was the nursing hour. Leaving him for the weekend was dubbed “Project Cold Turkey” and, surprisingly, it worked. After retrieving him from a cozy night’s sleep the next day, we sat on the couch in preparation for “Melmo’s Wurd” as W calls it. He looked at my boobs and patted one of them as if to say “Thanks for all of the good times, old buddy, but your work here is done.” He then turned to watch his show and that was the end of that. 16.5 months later and the nursing is over. My nips are mine again! And the angels sang.

I’m back to the wildest time of year at work and it’s the best we can do to maintain a safe level of sanity that still borders on manic. The postings will be sporadic but I will do my best to get something in here daily.

Onward!

Tardy, Tardy, Tardy

It's been over a week since the last post. The last time I took a break was when I had just given birth to the spawn. It's not my intention to be breaking now but I barely have time to write. Schedules have changed since the first of the year. Work loads have increased but that will only last until March 20. Between now and then let's just say I'm fucked. All is well in W's household 'tho. Well, mostly. W is sprouting the rest of his teeth which is the equivalent to all of them. He gnaws his fist constantly, moans in agony hourly and wears a 99.8 fever like a woolly sweater. Uncomfortable. The Hubs is working on a record release scheduled for early next month and me, well, let's just say I am sprouting an average of 3 grey hairs a day. It's the time of year when I am my busiest and such is the nature of the beast that is my job. I will write more maybe tonight, or tomorrow, or Saturday. Definitely by Saturday. Much to tell. Pictures to post. I miss reading everyone else's blobs.

Besos.

Yabba Dabba Do

No one is in the office right now. I’m here an hour earlier that I’d normally be. I look at my iChat list and it flatlines. Not a soul to bug. Everyone is dragging ass on the day before our time off begins. My breakfast is a dark chocolate pecan chunk cookie because I didn’t plan the morning so well and I’m tired of my routine. Couldn’t bear to go to the coffee shop again and have the barista looking at me expectantly like I’m going to order something different than I normally do. “Large latte, bottle of water, and a breakfast taco with sausage, potato, egg and avocado. Pico and salsa, too. Thanks.” I needed to get in the orifice early anyway. I don’t want to be checking email over the holidays and finding work to do. I want it all done today. Happy Holidays and good riddance until next year, ‘yo.

Effin'

So. Effin'. Busy.

More to come.

xo

And Away We Gooooooo!

Hey all! Wanted to drop a line here in the blogosphere before getting on the wild bull ride that is my job this week. We’ve got another vendor fair to do over the next four days at a company whose name rhymes with “Bell”. It’s a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade theme this time and I’ll be spending most of today inflating animals and Spidermen and dinosaurs. Thank God we found an electric inflater so I don’t have to blow myself until I pass out (Yikes, that sounds SO dirty!). Anyway, just want to give a shout out to all of the local blog girls, some of whom I haven’t met but will do so on Friday when we will get together for a bitchin, drinkin’ and visitin’ session. Can’t wait! Also want to briefly point out that this here bloggin’ activity has been an amazing way to reach out and make some pretty amazing friends, most of whom I never hang out with but care dearly about and I really appreciate the shared stories, words of wisdom and support. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Anon.