Thursday, November 20, 2008

Like Common People



So people who live with me know that recently I have become obsessed with the song "Common People" by Pulp (and when I say "recently" I mean within the last few weeks, since I have gotten behind on my blogging again. Really, really behind yet again. I'm working on it, though). I decided to examine my life to see if I, indeed, live like common people. I seem common enough. So I have examine bits and pieces of my life over the last couple of weeks to see if I indeed live like "common people." So, let's examine this, shall we?

First thing in the morning I am greeted by sounds coming from the boys' bedroom. I open the door and the lamp is on and both boys are in the crib. Jude has grabbed a book from the dresser and is lying down on his stomach, telling me he is reading. Sully is laughing and trying to crawl on top of Jude. Mornings are always hectic, but at least they (sometimes) start with a smile.

Jeff helps me wrangle the boys as I shower and get dressed and then off to day care. Jude sings a song from the back seat. The whole song is "I like to burp. I like to burp. It is fun. I like to burp." He laughs and then interrupts himself to comment on the traffic on the road in front of us. Jude is most helpful in pointing out red lights and such and this particular morning, he was obsessed with a large pharmacy delivery truck in front of us. "Why is that truck there?" he asked. "It is in my way."

Sully walks away from me at daycare. He is walking now and it is wonderful to see his independence but there is always a slight sadness at this, knowing that he isn't a baby any longer. He toddles over to his favorite shelf of toys and ignores me as I kiss Jude goodbye and he, too, runs off to play.

I arrive at work. I learn something new at work every day. It is a busy, busy, busy (did I mention busy?) office, but as always I am overwhelmed to be in such a beautiful building. It has heating issues and creaky stairs, but the gorgeous hardwood floors more than make up for it. I learn something new every day. Today's lesson is: holy crap, there is another bathroom back by my office that I had never knew was there. And I have been here over a month! Of course the heat doesn't seem to flow into said bathroom (which I always thought was a closet!) but still. It is good to know the option is there if needed. I hope that I never grow accustomed to the beauty in this office. I know getting jaded is inevitable; I just want to postpone it for as long as possible.

After work, a quick jog to the post office. I try to go three or four days a week to take mail for work and mingle with other common people.

Home again, home again. I usually arrive home just before the bright smiling faces of Jeff and the boys. Jude runs into the house first with a loud "Mom!" He has been making Thanksgiving Day projects at daycare and when he brings one home, it is generally with a flourish. He will hide his hands behind his back and say "I don't have nothing." Usually, I don't believe him. Then he will show me the "nothing" and then finally I can have the hugs and kisses that I have been craving. Sully isn't quite as easy. You'd think he would be. He's smaller. Easier to catch. But now he fusses if I try to kiss and hug him when he wants to be down and walking and playing. I am an interruption to his schedule.

There are phone calls to return and if I am lucky, Jude won't notice I am on the phone. If he does, then it is harder making payment arrangements with the hospital or whatever I happen to be doing. This is what common people do, I think. Common people need to work and when they are out of work for a few months, things pile up. But common people cope as best they can, using whatever rudimentary talents they possess to increase cash flow. Or, maybe that is just me.

Dinner time is always fun. Sully will now eat whatever Jeff and I are eating. Jude still will not. He will, however, reluctantly eat one of the four dinners we have on rotation for him.

There is an inevitable post dinner clash with Jude over the television. We (Jeff and I, united) argue with him that he watches too much television. Then we stand firm on the issue, not giving in. Jude argues his points with all of the determination and skill a four-year-old can muster. He still loses.

After dinner there is play time. Generally this involves the boys trying to beat up on Jeff. One night, post-Jude-clash, I have an epiphany so profound that I don't think I will ever see Jude the same way again (more on this in my next, eventual post). Then off to bathe Sullivan. Sully had developed a charming habit of crying each time he had to take a bath. Somehow I managed to disarm him and trick him into playing and laughing instead. I will take credit for this, though it is also likely that Jude and his smiling face had something to do with it.

Sully's bath and bottle. Then off to bed. He shares a room with Jude. Do common people have a two bedroom house? Because we do.

Then it is Jude's bath, evening snack and story. Jude and Sully have an extensive little library, yet we seem to read the same 10 or so books over and over.

Once Jude is in bed, my mind starts focusing on all the things I need to do tomorrow. And thus the cycle begins again.

I still haven't decided whether we are common people, but I still really dig the song.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Another Thursday Night

So I have no clue what "normal" couples talk about, but Jeff and I talk about topics like these. Who are the five celebrities that we would allow each other to sleep with should the chance ever present iteself? My list expands and evolves through the year as I am exposed to new and tasty treats and it is always a challenge to narrow said list to five. So, without further ado (I always ado way too much), here is the five as of Friday (yeah, I know the title says Thursday. I am tardy.):

1. Jake Gyllenhaal. A hold-over from last year. Still so adorable and buff and vulnerable and sweet. A wicked combination of sweetness and darkness that just begs for a bit of corruption.

2. Chase Crawford. A choice based solely on looks. So sue me. This year's Tom Welling. For those of you (everyone who reads my blog) who don't watch "Gossip Girl", he is the tasty nugget that I refer to as "the really ridiculously good looking one" so that Jeff can reply "Which one is that again?"

3. Seth Green. A choice based solely on a wicked sense of humor he seems to possess, as I think that he would be incredibly fun and . . . experimental. 'Nough said.

4. David Duchovny. It feels opportunistic now, but witness the following excerpt from a conversation between Jeff and me while he was watching "The X-Files" a couple of months ago. Me: "I would so sleep with David Duchovny." Jeff: "Really?" Me: "Oh yes. He is smart-hot (one of the best kinds of hot) and underneath that there is something more going on. That man has a huge kinky side. I can tell by looking at him." Now I look like a freakin' genius because not two weeks after this conversation, Duchovny went into treatment for "sex addiction." Okay, I feel a bit bad about this inclusion during a painful moment in his personal history, but I would be looking to have an experience, not start a relationship. I think he would definitely be an experience.

5. Sendhil Ramamurthy. The lovely Mohinder Suresh of "Heroes." Just don't expect me to call out his name during coitus.

Honorable mention: Zachary Quinto. Oddly drawn to him, but he barely misses the list because of the rumor that he is gay. I hate to waste a spot on someone who wouldn't want to do it with me. If he isn't gay, though, I'll have to reorganize.

I know it is a sad venture to have to leave celebrities off of the list, but there is only so much room. If you are a celebrity and would like consideration for next year's list, please submit an application and photograph to this blog. Thank you.

Oh, and, as always, thanks for reading, Mom.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

One Is The Sulliest Number

Saturday was Sullivan's birthday. He is one year old, but wearing it well and he doesn't look a day over 10 months. We celebrated here with a small party with family and it was a gorgeous day so we were able to have an outdoor party. We have more family than living room so this arrangment worked out well.

Sully is actually getting more adorable every day. This is not just a mother's prejudiced opinion; I have photographic evidence:



Jude is doing well, too. He is ever-inquisitive and is being a very good big brother. He has taken to playing with his brother. Yesterday he was walking quickly from room to room and Sully was crawling behind him, right at his heels and they were both laughing. I love that laughter; I wish there were a way to bottle it.




I've been at work for almost 2 weeks now and haven't cried on the job -- not even once! I hope that is a good sign :)

Song of the Day: "Central Reservation" by Beth Orton.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Music To My Ears

Sitting at my desk at work today, I was approached by a coworker inquiring about the music I was playing (a CD; I wasn't strumming a guitar at my desk or anything).

This is not uncommon. Generally when I am approached, the next words I hear are "What is that atrocious noise? Please cease playing that vile crap immediately as our ears are bleeding."

But today's exchange was different. Unexpected. The words were "You're a Tori Amos fan, too?" This lead to an actual conversation with a coworker regarding Tori Amos and music. I was very excited about this.

Do you realize what this means? If you just said "You're a geek," then you are correct.

Speaking of music, the music from Halloween (the movie) is the spookiest music there is. That John Carpenter created theme always makes me think of watching the movies and October is my favorite horror movie watching time.

When I was much younger, I was lying in bed and I heard the strains of the Halloween music. It was dark in my bedroom and late and I tried for three or four whole minutes to ignore the sounds, but I couldn't, so I wandered out of bed into the living room. A family friend named Scott was living with us then and he was lying on the couch watching Halloween 2. I told him I wanted to watch the movie, too, even though maybe I was a bit (okay, a lot) too young to be watching it and he told me no and tried to send me back to bed. But I didn't want to go to bed. I wanted to finally see Halloween 2. Eventually, he relented and I sat on the floor and watched the movie. It scared the crap out of me.

So, now whenever I see Halloween 2, it makes me think of Scott. He died this week. He was 48. It is a sad time for my family.

Song of the Day: "Northern Lad" by Tori Amos.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

You've Got To Be Starting Something

Under some serious pressure from Jeff at Dung! I am doing my list of 5 must-watch shows. In keeping with my infamous gift of procrastination, I have been mulling over the list and still haven't been able to narrow it down. So I will go with whatever is in my head tonight and then will revise it later as necessary.

I actually started this blog about four days ago but I plan to finish it tonight (Sunday).

In no particular order, here are my five favorite shows to catch every week:

1. Pushing Daisies. It is so pretty to look at and I love the narration. A very sweet show that appeals to my sweet side. Quirky. I am a sucker for quirky. And I love Olive. And the aunts.

2. The Office. This is one show that Jeff and I watch together every week. Love it. Funny stuff. And yes, I love Creed. Blah, blah British version is better and all that. I still love it.

3. House. Hugh Laurie is awesome. Interesting medical mysteries and a twisted, conflicted main character. Definitely on my must-watch list every week.

4. Psych. Hilarious. Love it. It has some of the best lines on tv, lots of silly little inside jokes. My favorite show to quote. And since it is not currently on the air until January, it shouldn't even count as a choice, leaving room for:

4.5. Robot Chicken. I laugh myself silly at the idiocy of this show. I love it, though I feel immature for loving it.

5. Skins. I was actually torn between two shows, but this show got bumped up onto the main list due to last week's episode, which actually made me say OMFG outloud. I even had to describe it in detail to Jeff who doesn't really watch and who doesn't even know the names of the characters. So when I said that Tony finally told Michele that he loves her and that she is the only one for him after all of the horrible stuff he did and then he got hit by a bus, Jeff actually said, "What?" He translated it as such: "About a Boy guy (since the guy who plays Tony is the same kid from the movie About a Boy only grown up now and quite nicely) told Cute Girl With Accent (they all have accents, Jeff!!!) that he loves her. . . " And there is a beautiful scene at the end with Sid and Cassie finally meeting up again (translated by Jeff as geeky guy with glasses and hat and girl who almost died). Well, I guess Jeff watches it more than I thought.

Reaper also shouldn't count as a selection because it isn't currently on. Not until mid-season. So, it doesn't count, but I would definitely throw it on the list, too. Sock is very funny and Andi and Sam are both cute, but the show belongs to Ray Wise. He is so funny and seems to enjoy his role so much that he is half the reason that it will make my list when it reappears on air.

Apparently I have to pick my favorite show because the Nazi I live with is insisting upon it, which is totally bogus. If I only could choose one to watch every week, it would definitely be one of these five. Yep. Definitely one of them. How about making me pick my favorite child next? I think it might be The Office, though. Hilarious. But all the other shows are good, too.

There isn't room for them on the list but How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory would likely tie for a spot if something else fell off. They both make me laugh and I really like the casts of each.

So, there it is. My tv list (for now).

I have also recently started a new writing project. I love new writing projects, especially a new novel. I love the idea. Yes, technically that brings the grand total of novels I am workng on in one way or another to four (4) and none of them ever seems to get finished, but I am great at starting them.

Now, let's see if I can see one through to the end.

Song of the day: "97 Bonnie and Clyde" The Tori Amos version of Eminem's song is very eerie.

It is mid October so movie reviews for the rest of the month will be horror movies. Go Halloween!

Monday, October 6, 2008

I Have Found Me A Home

One of the benefits of being so behind in my blogging is that there is a never-ending amount of material from which to draw.

When we last left me, I was working for therapists and telemarketers. Those jobs last three days and two days, respectively. I quit when I was offered a full time job at a law firm. Despite my rather vocal reluctance to work in the legal field again, I couldn't turn down the chance to quit being a telemarketer. I was offered the job last Wednesday and started last Thursday.

My new place of employment is in a beautiful old house converted into an office. The entire top floor (upstairs) is attorneys' offices and the bottom floor (downstairs) is the staff area. It is a big open area (living room?) with many desks and files. I love the office. I have my own work space, a big desk sitting out in the open, but not touching anyone else's desk. And files. There are files everywhere. But organized neatly.

There is a tiny kitchen, functional but not fancy. Beautiful hardwood floors in the main reception area. And a tiny little staff bathroom with a blue toilet and a blue sink. I must say, that makes me feel like home. (Except at home I have a pink sink.)

I love the building. It is downtown, but not part of a fussy new downtown infrastructure. It has history and beauty. Oh and people. There are people there, too.

They seem nice.

Song of the Day: "I Have Found Me A Home" by Jimmy Buffett, not that it is a favorite song because it is just an okay one, but because I stole the title for my blog.

DVD Review of the Day: I'm watching the first season of Dexter and am really, really digging it. Yes it is morbid, but so clever. Plus, I like morbid.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

What's My Age Again?

(This post is a week overdue, so if it contains old info, that's why.)

I started a new job -- two actually. One is a day job, working as a receptionist for an office of therapists. (Please feel free to insert your own "need for therapy" joke here.) I like it very much. Two whole days in and I haven't cried on the job once. (That's not my only qualification for enjoyment of the job, but it is a definite bonus!)

My other job is a night job that I am in training for currently. I am/will be in telemarketing. What fresh hell is this? Most of the people I am training with are significantly younger than I am. A handful are exactly half my age. I am trying to approach this job training as an anthropological experiment instead of the sad mid-life setback that it is. I am an observer, watching lives unfold. I'm even witnessing a possible budding romance between a cute emo kid and a very cute (and slightly out of his league) preppy girl. They sit. They flirt. I observe (as a writer, not as a voyeur).

I'm 34, surrounded by 17-year-olds (or is that old's -- what do you think, Brian?) and I have no idea how to talk to them. I'm even less sure than I usually am about the adults who surround me. I prefer my teenagers in fictionalized form. On television, I have become enamored of those kids from "Gossip Girl". It is definitely a guilty pleasure. I can't help it; I really like that darn show. I got sucked in and now I watch every week. I've also become quite involved in the lives of the fictitious British teens on the show "Skins" on BBC America. Now that show I really love. I'm not sure why; maybe some bizarre vicarious thrill. I would never want to be a teenager again. I wasn't good at it the first time. I think I make a better adult. But lately I have been surrounded by teens in fiction and I am enjoying it. I even read "Twilight" last week. For those of you living in caves (and thus without the required internet connection to access this-here blog) it is the story of a teenage girl, Bella, who falls in love with a vampire. I was filled with a little bit of self-loathing as I read it because I really enjoyed it.

Remember Rob Lowe's character from "St. Elmo's fire"? No? I do. I don't want to be that person. I want to be the grown up, surrounded by other grown ups.

Song of the day: "What's My Age Again?" from Blink 182 because I stole their song title for my blog title.

Movie Review. . . . "Clerks 2" A funny movie about growing up. I love the end shot of that movie. Some funny and immature stuff in the film, but ultimately about growing up. Perfect movie for someone in his or her 30s (or was that 30's, Brian?)

Monday, September 8, 2008

Why I Can Never Go to the Bathroom Again



Two Saturdays ago, Jeff was working and I was alone with the children. I snuck away for a very necessary brief moment of privacy and was gone approximately 35 seconds when Jude pushed the door open and said "Mom, can you make me a new sandwich?"
"Sure, honey," I replied, nearly weeping with joy that Jude actually finished his whole sandwich. "In a minute." Jude turned to leave. "Oh, Mom, I left it on the floor and Sully ate it."

Now Sully has had crackers so I didn't worry about it until I realized that Jude's sandwich also had peanut butter on it. Peanut butter! I ran into the living room and began following Sullivan around as he crawled around the living room, watching his face, looking into his eyes for any reaction. He just smiled at me. Well, I guess he isn't allergic to peanuts. One less thing for me to worry about.

Sometimes when I steal away for a moment, I return to the living room to find Jude being sweet, sharing a grape popsicle with his brother, Sully's tongue and face stained purple. I watched from the doorway, amazed. They're really quite beautiful together playing, sharing. Jude actually shares with Sully. I love that.

What I love much less is walking out of the bathroom to find Sully purple. Not purple from a popsicle, but purple from lack of oxygen. It is horrible. Sullivan holds his breath when he gets upset (or angry or really tired). It is awful to witness. He will hold his breath until he passes out. Last Saturday, Sully did it four times in one day. Four times he stopped breathing long enough to pass out, falling limp, eyes rolling into his head and then he started breathing again. The doctor says that it isn't uncommon for babies to do this and apparently there is a genetic component; my brother, Ryan, did it and my Uncle Dennis did it. Of course, Ryan was 14 when he did it (no, seriously, Mom assured me that he outgrew it before he started school. High school). Still, no mom should have to see a purple child, feel a lifeless body cradled in her arms.

Movie Review of a Movie You've Already Seen or Never Plan to See: Clerks. After all, there's nothing more exhilarating than pointing out the shortcomings of others.

Song of the Day: "Whole Wide World" by Wreckless Eric.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Welcome to Casa Chaos



Well, the news is that there is no news.

This blog is just an excuse to show the mass destruction that two wee beings can cause.

Song of the day: Well, I am tempted to go with "Engine Driver" again because I am still going through a Decembrists thing, but I'll go with "Karma Police" by Radiohead because that is stuck in my head right now.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The Skinny of It All

A quick update on Drama King and Biter Baby. After a serious parental discussion, we decided to go back to Jude and Sullivan. Jude -- doing well, big dramatic gestures and all. Jeff is in the process of introducing Jude to the Star Wars films. Jude is 4. He asks 10 questions every 4 seconds (yep, he's that quick). Jeff is a masochist. But daddy and son both seem to love Star Wars and Jude even has a favorite character: Okey-wan-adobe.

Sullivan has another new tooth (five in all now) and an adorable habit of standing up in the bathtub mid-bath. When I gently set him down, saying "No, Sully. No standing in the bathtub," he looks at me as if seriously considering my proposal before pulling himself back up to the standing position. It has become a wrestling match just to give him a bath.

On the job front, I am hopeful because I have spent too much time being not hopeful and that isn't helpful either. I have prospects. I even applied for a job at a local college and felt a bit lost as I wandered the campus. The students there had something that I haven't felt in my own professional life in quite some time: a sense of purpose. The thrill of something new. In college, "they" tell you crap like "What would you do if you didn't have to work? Well, that's what you should do for work." My first choice of non-work activity would be sitting on the couch watching movies and that isn't realistic. But there is a second choice, something that I could totally (maybe) do for a living, something that I am actually really good at and I am trying to figure out how to expand upon that, turn that into something that pays well (enough). I've even gotten serious enough to make inquiries about starting a website for said project and a friend was kind enough to provide me with some information on getting a website. I've done research until my eyes are crossed and I must ask: is there anyone who knows how to start/maintain a website? I have gotten good advice on how to do it myself, but let's be honest here: it is likely I would screw it up myself. I'm quite serious. I want to purchase (very cheaply) a domain name, etc. Tell me what you know. Tell me how you would do it, step by step, treating me like I had no clue what I was doing (because I really, really don't). I can't even make my blog any prettier than it already is. There are people with talents for things like that; my talents (I think) lie elsewhere. So I am begging. Pleading. Tell me what you know.

I know what else I know: apparently I am hanging on to baby weight from my sweet boys out of some bizarre sentimentality. Well, that ends now. My husband has this habit of taking my picture, despite my threats to do him bodily harm. Now, it speaks volumes that I would rather injure Jeff than let him take photographic evidence that I am here, so it is time to do something about that and I have. Jeff has his gym schedule and I have started my own exercise program here. I will monitor my progress here in the same haphazard way that I monitor everything else on this blog. I have this love of ice cream (and ice cream merchandisers), but I miss my pre-baby body and want to see it again in this lifetime.

Oh, and to the dear reader who thought it would be fun to send me an email that sent me off to google a quite nasty picture, thank you. I have printed off said picture, framed it and put it on the fridge. I haven't been able to eat ever since. Best. Diet. Ever.

Song of the day: (yes, it is back!) Engine Driver by The Decembrists. I choose this song simply because I can't get it out of my head. See, Jeff has this cool habit of downloading songs and making up CDs for each writing project that he does and I have this habit of stealing said CDs to listen to in my car. So, thanks for your hard work, Jeff. And no, I haven't seen your CD. Why do you ask?

Movie Review: The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford. Jeff asked me to watch this with him today. It was long (nearly three hours) and really, really good. It has a wonderful screenplay and great dialogue and it is a pretty slow-paced movie but I just loved it. Terrific performances by Casey Affleck and Brad Pitt. There is even a scene with Nick Cave singing. There is great narration as well and I suspect that those passages were lifted directly from the book. Loved it.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

A Tale of Two Kiddies

I have had to rename my children. It isn't that I don't like the names Jude and Sullivan anymore; I still do like them very much. However, the four-year-old (previously known as Jude) shall now be known as Drama King (maybe Drama Prince, because of his age) and the ten-month-old (previously known as Sullivan) shall henceforth be known as Biter Baby.

This weekend, I was able to see Drama King in all his glory. DK, who used to be able to share tv/movie time, has now decided that he does not care to do so anymore. Whenever he is called upon to turn away from his special television time (time which consists of putting in, but never actually sitting down to watch) a movie or television show (and, yes, I would much rather he play than watch tv), he does not share willingly. After a few episodes of SpongeBob SquarePants, I calmly explained to DK that although the exploits of an under-the-sea dwelling anthropomorphic sponge are entertaining, it was time to move on to something else. DK then raised his arm in -- what else? -- dramatic fashion and boldly declared "You never let me watch anything." The drama. The pathos. For a moment, I was touched by his plight.



Then, my attention was diverted by the baby. He crawled by at top speed, pausing to look up at me and smile. He then plopped down on his diapered rear and reached out his hands to me (I love the reaching out of the hands). I extended my two index fingers and he used them to pull himself up to a stand. He grinned, showing off those four teeth, which he promptly sunk into my forearm, catching me just right so as to draw blood and leave a fairly sizable bruise on my arm. Now he is known as Biter Baby. Biter Baby has also developed the charming habit of pulling himself up, which is very cute and a good developmental state but which makes bathtime very challenging. Biter Baby used to be content splashing in the water, but BB now has to try to stand up in the bathtub. When I say "no" and sit him down, his lip quivers at me.



Biter Baby has been able to chew more than forearms; he eats pretty well. Drama King, on the other hand, is just as difficult regarding food as ever. At dinner, DK will get his food and immediately ask for a snack, to which mean mom and dad tell him "You need to eat your dinner." He will then give us his most pitiful look and sigh "You say that every night." You'd think he would get used to it.

Ah Drama King and Biter Baby. What can I say? I love them.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Blogs About Books (and Stuff) Part 1

This is the part 1 of a planned two-part series of blogs on the subject of books. Part 2 is in the planning stages; expect it in time for your Christmas stockings.

I was moved to write this when I received my water bill this month. Usually, receiving bills in the mail prompts me to put them into a large folder and ignore them, but this bill had a letter from our local mayor included. Generally I skim such letters before recycling them into a large box I call "Stuff I don't care about" but something in this letter moved me and I knew I had to write about it.

There is a spot on the form letter that deals with recycling various household items to local nonprofit agencies -- an idea I fully support. There is a subsection "BOOKS" that reads as follows: "only morally appropriate books accepted".

I've been mulling over that phrase; I can't stop myself really. Do I even own a "morally appropriate book"? I don't know if I have read a "morally appropriate book" since third grade. I'm not sure I would know what a morally appropriate book is and whether I would want that poison in my home.

I'm fairly certain that this blog (and all of the shit contained herein -- see, there I go) is not "morally appropriate". I'm writing a book -- yeah, I said it, I am writing a book and I am really, really certain that it is not "morally appropriate". I hope that it is funny (above all) and maybe a pinch thought-provoking about matters of love and sex and friendship and sex and a bit of sex, but I certainly hope that should it one day grace the shelves of our local bookstores that it will not be picked up, browsed and purchased because it appears to be "morally appropriate".

I know, I know, I am treading down well-worn paths here since I already did a blog extolling the virtues of porn. Still, if there comes a time that one of the morally inappropriate books currently on my shelves needs a good home, I shall not donate said book to the local nonprofit agencies. Oh, no. I will lovingly stick it in an envelope, carefully address it and mail it off to you, dear reader.

You will take good care of it, won't you?

Friday, August 8, 2008

I Asked for the Green and Got the Pink

So my last blog left off with my asking my boss for my paycheck and my not being able to get a response from him. Well, late Sunday night I received a call, not from my boss, but from his wife, informing me that they would have to let me go. Well, that's some kind of record, isn't it? I worked there for a whole week. Then, apparently, my boss decided that I was the kind of pain-in-the-ass employee who expects a paycheck for work I've done. I was informed that my check would be mailed to me. Day after day after day passed and no check. On Thursday, Jeff said that he would "take care of it".

Jeff drove to the office. As soon as my former boss was informed that "Kimberly's husband" was there to see him, he actually issued the check, asking Jeff how our last name is spelled. He then launched into this big story about how he has a small office and that I was a good worker but that he just couldn't afford to keep me on. I am so happy that I went through the interview process, got hired, attempted to implement a new filing system, learned a new computer system and got let go all in the same week.

I am left scrambling around, trying to find a new job again. Needless to say, I am done with lawyers. Done, done, done. No mas.

Anybody hiring? I am a good employee. I have skills.

I do expect to get paid for working, though.

Will that be a problem?

Sunday, August 3, 2008

One Week, One Post

This morning it was very difficult to get out of bed. Let's examine this past week and see if we can't find a cause, together. I have so many blog topics spinning around my brain that I am trying to fit into this one blog, so if it gets too long, feel free to skim ahead.

MONDAY: I have an appointment at 11:00 a.m. with an office that has offered me a job. I get to the office and it turns out that my "appointment" means that I am starting work. I immediately get to answer phones from angry clients. I meet "L", the other legal assistant and I immediately recognize her. We worked at an office in 1999 (three jobs ago for me) for two weeks. She put in her notice just as I started, though I wasn't hired to replace her, but to replace someone at the office who had already left. That was a large office and two people were hired right after I started to replace L and another girl who had been fired during my first week at that office. L worked for Jon and I ended up working for Jon as well a few months later when the person hired to replace L quit as well. (More about Jon later).

TUESDAY: A very crazy day work-wise. My boss, true to his word, is not in the office very much, but spends much of the day in court and otherwise occupied outside the office. L leaves to go to the courthouse with a client to file some paperwork, so I am left alone on my second day to meet with walk-in clients and to answer the very crazy phone lines. I am supposed to leave at 5:00 (and will not get paid for working past 5:00) but there are clients with appointments at 5:00 and 5:30 and still, no boss and no L. Finally L returns at 6:00 and my boss a few minutes later. I don't get home until after 6:30.

WEDNESDAY: Jude's 4th birthday. The birthday is most important, so whatever happens at work that day doesn't matter. After work, I run home quickly so we can eat a quick dinner, give Jude his present and get ready for the fair. Yes, readers, it is fair time again. A really wonderful way to spend Jude's birthday. This year the heat is not nearly as oppressive (as I am not nearly as pregnant). I am able to ride on rides with Jude while Sully and Daddy look on. We all share a very tasty elephant ear. Well, Sully eats some fruit puffs instead, gnawing them with his four(!) teeth and seems very happy with them.



THURSDAY: Showing what a dedicated employee I am, I work only half a day. In all fairness, though, I did tell my boss that I would need Thursday afternoon off since I had to take Jude and Sullivan to the doctor; Jude has his four-year check-up and Sullivan has his nine-month check-up. Jude is 36 inches and 28 pounds and Sullivan is 30 inches and 20 pounds. Both boys are very healthy. We talk to the doctor about possible emotional/learning situations with Jude and agree that we will test Jude for ADD if needed when he starts school. Tough to say whether it is normal enthusiasm or something more than gets Jude moving every moment of the day that he is awake.

After being assured that the children are fine, I go downtown to the office of my old boss, Jon. Jon has ruined me for bosses forever; I know that. No other boss will ever be Jon. I was spoiled. We worked together at the big ol' law firm where I toiled for 6 years and we got along well. We had a whole team that actually worked well together and we would ever all go to lunch together sometimes. Jon and I even shot a commercial together, though it was one that would never air. The camera crew was there and it was meant to be just a quick shot for a montage of lawyers and legal assistants. However, we could not get through the shot without laughing. I think the advertising people hated us. It was his fault. I was sitting at a desk and he walked over to me, handed me a file and said in a low voice "Here you go, dummy." There was no microphone, so no one heard except me, but we couldn't really be serious after that. The shot never made any of the commericials that air ad nauseum during daytime television. (Seriously -- sit home one day and watch tv and see how many ads for lawyers there are.)

That was just one day, but that was Jon. He is a lawyer, a good lawyer, and he has his own office. We worked well together and he works well with the woman that he hired at his new office. It had been a couple of years since I had seen him, as he left the firm three years ago and I left 2 1/2 years ago -- left because I was escorted out, but let's just say it was my choice to leave.

So, I go to see Jon on an actual business matter (a question about incorporating a business) and our visit extends beyond that to play catch-up on the last couple of years. I realize then that I had missed him. It is weird, that feeling. It didn't happen when I first saw him after all this time. It is when he mentions someone we both know and we start really talking and reconnecting. It was the same feeling I felt when my friend, Brian, visited a couple of weeks ago. It didn't happen when I saw him or even when we started talking, but the first time Brian laughed, I realized that I had really missed him and I silently cursed him, wishing again that he and his wife lived closer so that the four of us could spend more time together talking and, yes, laughing together. We could always crack each other up, so laughter was a strong reminder of our friendship.

When I ask Jon about the lawyer I am working for, the first thing he says is "He just got his license back after being suspended for 6 months." This is not news to me, as Wednesday I had found paperwork in the filing that basically gave me that same information. What an exciting adventure this job is turning out to be.

FRIDAY: Back to the grind of work. A very busy day that culminates in my driving downtown to the courthouse (across the street from Jon's office) to file an emergency petition for a client. Then, I come back to the office to the sight of L and T (T works in the office part-time) waxing one another's mustaches (no ephemism there -- there were really waxing each other's mustaches with an over-the-counter wax). Very interesting. I hang out until 5:00, then ask L if she has received her paycheck yet. She says no, but that we get paid every Friday and sometimes it is really late in the day. "How much later can it be?" I ask. "It is already 5:00". I wait until 5:30 and then must go to the post office so that file-marked papers from the court go into that day's mail, but I tell L that I will be back. I get back to the office before 6:00 and the doors are locked. When I get home, I call the office and L is still there. She seems shocked that the doors are locked and double-checks. Sure enough, our boss is gone and he has locked the doors and we never received our checks. L gives me our boss's cell number and I call and leave him a message, asking him to call me about the paycheck. He doesn't call me back. Late Friday night L calls and tells me that she talked to T. T talked to our boss before she left work on Friday and he says he doesn't have the money to pay us but that he will pay us on Monday. T says that she is okay with that and she thinks L will be okay with that, but that he should talk to me since it is my first week. But he never said a word to me, even though I was at the office until 5:30. Bogus.

SATURDAY: I wake up this morning to discover that I cannot get out of bed. My back is sore, spasming and I can only hobble around. We go to a graduation party and I sit in a chair in the shade, trying not to move. No medications are helping; pain is strong. Twice I had needles inserted into my spine (for my c-sections) so I know a bit of what back pain feels like. This hurts.

SUNDAY: Back pain no better today and I struggle to get out of bed. Jeff is working and I cannot pick up twenty-pound Sully without pain so I call my dad and stepmom and they drive down to help. Jeff gets home and he takes me to an urgent care center. The doctor prescribes a muscle relaxer, which I took before I type this (which accounts for any misspelling, Josh!).

I can hardly wait to see what tomorrow holds. I do hope it holds a paycheck, though . . .

Sunday, July 27, 2008

So Much to Say, So Little Blog

So, I have been away again. It turns out that finding a job is a job in itself. It has been a wonderful four (4) weeks with no work, but it turns out that my theory that I don't really need a paycheck was, in fact, completely wrong.

A lot has happened since my last blog. I am sure I will be forgetting something (and, if you read Jeff's blog, then you are likely already caught up. If you are Jeff, you are likely already caught up as well). And these topics may or may not gets blog postings of their own, depending on whether I actually write them.

First: a new job. I just got the call this past Friday, informing me that they wanted to offer me a job. I go on Monday morning. It is an office job. I will elaborate more after my meeting on Monday.

My friends, Brian and Ashley, visited last Friday on their way back home to the almost-deep-South. It was great to see them, even if our visit was too short. Four adults. Three children, all under the age of 4. No one wanted to sit by our table at the restaurant; I don't understand why. I admire them for traveling with a little baby. Even a brief trip to Michigan to visit with my parents can sometimes be a trial with the two boys. We've never attempted a multi-state trip. We will, though; eventually we'll just have to suck it up.

We've been trying to soak up as much sun and pool time as possible. Jude and Sully are both naturals in the water, so we spend lots of time in our little pool. Jeff has designated himself the "pool boy" and he does a splendid job keeping it in shape (just as he does with the house, so thank you, Jeff).

Jude's birthday is coming up this week. We had his annual party with family and friends at that place where grownups can be kids. Seriously. My brother took off as soon as he got there to go beat out some kids at skee-ball and I didn't see him again for a long, long time. When he returned to our tables, he did so bearing an armful of tickets, which we promptly used to buy stock in the restaurant. With the leftover tickets, we "purchased" stuff that we could have purchased outright with actual cash, but it always seems more fun to do so redeeming tickets. Plus, we were able to spend time with our new "friend couple" and since we don't have many (okay, none) local friend-couples, we were very excited about that.



Why is it that other people are allowed to bring their children to such places? I thought it would be so fun just to let Jude and his cousins and friends have free reign over the place. As I have mentioned many times in this blog, I don't consider myself a great mother, but I do think I am a good mother. Good. Not great. Still, it is tough some days to see other children running amuck (I just like that phrase) with no apparent parental figure around. Jude does plenty of amuck-running, but there is always a parental figure around. He is boisterous, always ready to run and full of way too much energy. Any suggestions on how to properly channel that energy into something positive?

Yep, while I was unemployed, I did so many productive things: I got papercuts from sending out resumes, I became addicted to eBay, I watched my son learn to crawl (and to figure out that he can move from the living room into the bathroom all on his own now!) and I watched Sweeney Tood: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Would you like this film? If you are the sort of person who reads a title like "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" and decides you must see it, then you will probably like it. I loved it. Dark and bloody. And a musical. Good times.

There's more, but I will save that for another blog. So, brace yourselves.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Like A Buffett

Warren Buffett is rich. I mean, really rich. I've heard his name in connection with finances. He is a millionaire. Or a billionaire. I'm not sure which without doing actual research, but the exact nature of his "aire" doesn't matter. Just know that he is loaded.

But, this post isn't about financial-whiz, rich Warren Buffett. This, my friends (and random stranger who happens along this site and reads down this far before realizing he/she is totally lost) is all about the Jimmy.

It is summer, so my mind naturally turns to the sounds of summer and one undeniable sound of summer is the music of Jimmy Buffett. Like it or hate it, it is out there, all summer long. (But, really, even if you hate it, put down this blog now and go.)

If you are familiar at all with Buffett, it is likely for two or three songs that he recorded back in the 70s (yes, the 1970s). But, he still records new music and has just a ridiculous amount of albums put out. Seriously: it must be around 30 or so (again, not willing to do the actual research). I admire that. Not only do I like the music (which is summer encapsulated into little stories), but I admire the man himself.

Well, there is something really appealing about someone who just sets out to accomplish something and then does. He decided "Hey, I want to write and record albums" so he did. Then, eventually he bought his own label to put out his albums. There seems to be a "balls to the wall" (and I love the sheer masculinity of that term, though there is no female equivalent, nor should there be as the possibilities make me shudder) quality to him, just tossing himself into one project after another. He wanted to fly airplanes, and now he does. He decided to write a novel and he did -- and "Where is Joe Merchant?" is really funny and pretty good. Of course, there have been subsequent novels he wrote that I also enjoy. Entertaining stuff. He turned me onto Herman Wouk after he read Wouk's "Don't Stop the Carnival" and decided "Hey, that would make a nifty musical. I think I'll write and produce a musical based on that."

Sure, I am a Jimmy Buffett fan and admit that I like the wide array of songs from his career, both originals and covers (I particularly like the covers of The Grateful Dead's "Uncle John's Band" and Crosby, Stills and Nash's "Southern Cross"). But I digress (heck, this whole blog is a digression -- that's just the way my brain operates). The point (if I have one) is that Jimmy Buffett, the man who is the poster child for laid-back living, is amazingly productive. I am trying to adopt more of that into my own life, trying to throw myself into more projects, take more risks (all well within the confines of first taking care of my babies) go all ballsy (see, again with the masculine overtones without a female counterpart) and dare to dream.

So, I am daring to have a vision and trying to see it through. Of course with my astigmatism, my vision isn't always too clear. Still, no matter what, I will be just fine. After all, I'll always have Jimmy and for now, I have this beautiful sunshine as well.

Friday, July 4, 2008

You'll See Me -- At the Movies

What is this? You ask. Two posts in one week? Why, it is almost as if Kimberly just quit her job and didn't have another job and has time to spare to write blogs while she is job searching. And, if that is what you're thinking, well, I spend too much damn time talking to you. And that is all true.

I put in my two weeks' notice at work, a polite letter to break up a work relationship that just wasn't working for me anymore. Full of platitudes, and "it isn't you job, it's me." No, it wasn't me at all. It was totally job -- specifically, my boss. Said boss decided that he didn't want the full two weeks, so I just finished out the week instead. Rather than feeling panic right now, I feel very calm, like some very good opportunity is just waiting for me to spring on it. Mostly, I feel pretty good.

So, this past week has been filled with job interviews, but no job offers yet. I think that will happen very soon, though.

I did take some time off on Thursday to take Jude to the movies. A local theater is playing children's movies on Wednesday and Thursday mornings at 10:00 a.m. with free admission. A pretty sweet deal, and now I had the chance to take Jude. This week's offering was "Alvin and the Chipmunks".

I drove Sully to daycare since there is no way he would be able to sit through a movie and drove Jude across town to the theater. He was bouncing in his seat in that hyper way of his and I looked in the mirror at him. "Mom," he said as he was bouncing, "I am doing my happy dance."

The movie experience went pretty well. The theater was pretty crowded and for a time the familiar guilt crept in when I realized that most of the moms in the theater were likely stay-at-home moms. And, sure, if I wanted to give up the luxuries like food and shelter, I could be a stay-at-home mom, too. And usually it doesn't bother me anymore, but sometimes I still feel the guilt. Still wish every Thursday morning could be Jude and Mommy movie time.

Jude was bouncing in his seat, chowing on popcorn. Yep, the really "good" moms all brought healthy snacks for their spawn, while I bought popcorn for mine. Popcorn is essential to the movie-going experience. Carrot sticks might be healthier; but I was determined to give Jude the whole experience.

We both enjoyed the movie (though we did have to get up twice to go to the bathroom). Jude sat in his own seat for much of the film, but eventually climbed over into my lap. About fifteen minutes before the end of the movie, Jude climbed over to me and whispered "I love you. Can we go to daycare now?" When we got back into the car, he said "I hope Sully had fun without me there."

I took Jude back to daycare so I could continue my job hunt. I know he doesn't love me any less because he goes to daycare. I know that ultimately I am doing the best that I can for him, making sure he is raised in a loving environment, but also making sure that he is in a great daycare where he is taken care of and where he has friends that he loves. I watched him run into the fold of kids, his skinny little legs pumping down the stairs and I couldn't help but wonder Was Alvin and the Chipmunks for me or was it for Jude? Ultimately it doesn't matter why we went, only that we went.

And ultimately what matters most is that I have a little boy with skinny legs and a big heart who loves his little brother and who shakes my whole car -- and my whole heart -- whenever he breaks into his happy dance.

Movie Review of a Movie You've Already Seen or Never Plan to See: Alvin and the Chipmunks (naturally). A cute little children's movie. I enjoyed it. Jude enjoyed it.

Song of the day: "C'mon. C'mon" by the Von Bondies. The theme song for the excellent tv show, "Rescue Me". I rewatched season 1 and have just begun season 2. Just a very well written show. Great complex characters. Excellent drama. And a kickin' theme song. Watch it -- from the beginning, of course.

Monday, June 30, 2008

Trash

So, finally I have made it to the "Trash" post: a counter-point to my "Treasure" post. Of course, I likely have forgotten half of what I was going to write about, but such is the nature of my blogging.

This post was inspired by my severe dislike of a couple of movies that I saw in the past few weeks. Over the course of a year, I see a few movies that I love, many that I like, several about which I feel ambivalent and/or completely forgotten and just a very few that I down-right loathe.

One movie that falls into the "loathe" category is "Superman Returns". If you are inclined to watch superhero movies, chances are that you have already watched or decided not to watch this particular piece of dour filmmaking. I don't think that there was a single thing that I actually liked about this film. I tried to pick something positive, but this was an absolutely unfun film. I can appreciate a serious drama, but, really, should Superman be such a serious drama? If the main cast members look as though they don't want to be in the movie, why would the audience feel any differently about watching the film?

As much as I disliked this film (I am trying to eradicate "hate" from my vocabulary, as I don't want my little ones using it), it was a gem compared to the steaming pile of yuck known as "The Last Kiss". Wow. I haven't disliked characters this much in a long time. And what a fun genre, one of those films with the message that all men are just immature babies and it is a woman's job to be mature and to drag the man kicking and screaming into adulthood. How fun. Basically what I got from this movie is that men can do whatever they wish while women should stand by and be infinitely patient and wise because eventually said men will grow up and realize that they want the dull, staid adulthood that the women already occupy. Did I mention that I didn't care too much for this film.

Speaking of things that I would like to toss onto a big pile of dung (not to be confused with Dung!), I got sucked into watching an episode of "The Moment of Truth". And now I feel really dirty. And not the good kind of dirty either.

Song of the day: "Ceremony" from New Order. No explanation, just a song that I like. Nothing trashy about it.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Kids

So, of course this blog was supposed to be entitled "Trash" and would be about a bunch of stuff I am disliking at the moment. Then, that idea got sidetracked and I wanted to blog about George Carlin because, hey, he was really smart and funny and thought-provoking. But, I don't have enough Carlin-related material to last for a whole blog and another thought came and pushed that thought away.

This morning as I was taking Jude and Sully to daycare (so I could head off to Satan's Den, where I am employed), Jude noticed a huge tent on top of a local grocery store. To be fair, it was very large and obvious, but had it been much smaller, Jude still would have noticed. Jude always notices.

"Mom, what's that?" Jude asked. "Why are people up there?"

"They're trying to raise money to help kids," I said. A local radio station does a "roof sit" to raise money to help prevent child abuse.

"Oh. Kids like me. Right, mom?"

That's when my heart just clenched up in that way it does when completely unwelcome thoughts invade. I looked into my rearview mirror and saw those hazel, not-yet-brown eyes with the long eyelashes looking at me.

"Yes, honey. Kids just like you."

Stories of child abuse have always been horrible and hard to hear, but now the thought is totally unbearable. I can't listen to stories about abuse on the news. I can't read about it in newspapers. It is too much to take.

And how will it be when I have to elaborate some day? When I have to tell Jude that not every little boy has parents who love him so much. That some moms and dads hit and hurt and worse. How do you say such things to an innocent little person who loves with his whole self and sleeps in monkey pajamas, dreaming his sweet dreams with his head resting on a Spiderman pillow?

When we got to daycare and I hugged him too long, he indulged me as he seldom does, resting his head against my chest like he did when he was a baby before he had to pull away to go "play guys" and show off his new Incredible Hulk figure. I know he doesn't understand why I pulled him so close and held him so long, wanting him to know that I love him. He doesn't understand, but I know he will. Someday. And even though maybe it shouldn't, that thought makes my heart ache. But, someday is not now. Not for a long, long time, Jude. Not for a long, long time.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Treasures

Last weekend, we had a garage sale (though, I think, technically, it would have to be considered a driveway sale). It was my first and an altogether interesting experience, laying out our belongings in the hopes that someone who needs these very items will happen along our sale. It was a positive experience and I will definitely be doing it again.

The biggest net of the day, however, came when I was looking through boxes in the basement. I opened a picnic basket (one of two that we own) and inside found not one but two lost treasures: a skirt and some CDs. When we moved almost 6 years ago, I thought I had lost my favorite skirt. It is a multi-color wonder, a skirt I purchased for $3.00 at a Goodwill store several years ago for a Jimmy Buffett concert. It is the most colorful skirt I own and I was so bummed when I couldn't find it after we moved. The CDs were a box set of Harry Chapin, the very music I had been listening to when I moved, so one of the CDs was in my car and, after a year, I misplaced that CD since I had already misplaced the case. It was a rare look into me of 6 years ago.




I came across another treasure over the weekend that I just had to share. I don't often recommend movies because well, I don't see many movies worth recommending, but any movie that makes me feel genuine affection for Steven Segal is a worthwhile movie in my humble opinion (the only opinion currently featured on this blog). I would highly recommed The Onion Movie. If you watch the film expecting supreme silliness, you will not be disappointed. Unless you will be. I can never gauge anyone else's sense of humor. There is such a crazy variety of things that make me laugh, but I never know if someone else will enjoy the same lunacy.

This week's movie review of a Movie You've Already Seen and Don't Plan to See: Dead Ringers. What a freaky little experience. Excellent performance by Jeremy Irons and a wonderful look into madness. Not a fun movie per se (unless your idea of fun is freaky twin gynecologists, in which case you should definitely call me so we can talk), but definitely a good one.

So, this week was a celebration of treasures, of skirts and CDs found, of trying (and mostly failing, but still trying) to push out negative thoughts and focus on more positive thoughts. (Oh new glorious job, you are out there somewhere. Just let me know where and it would be so much easier to find you.)

Song of the day (well, song of the week since this post has taken me about a week to finish): Harry Chapin's "Taxi". It is my favorite song of his, just a wonderful example of a "story/song" and one of my favorite song endings ever. Love it and love him. To completely veer off the topic of this week's blog, it occurs to me that if I were a princess (a big if), I don't think I would fall for a prince. The minstrels and court jesters have always been the ones to capture my heart (and anyone who can sing and be funny -- and yes, Jeff, I mean you -- well, how could a silly ol' prince ever compete with that).

Thursday, June 12, 2008

The Three Faces of Me

Typically, I will start a blog in any given few spare moments I manage to steal, write a few sentences and fully intend to go back to the blog to finish what I started when I get a few more moments. Sometimes a whole week will elapse between these events, but such is the schizophrenic nature of writing. (Unless, of course, you are a professional writer, getting paid to do your work, with a set writing schedule and all that. Then you are more apt, I think, to finish something relatively close to the time that you began it.)

Let me begin, then, backwardly with this week's Movie Review of Movies You Have Already Seen or Don't Plan to See (or whatever it is that I call this feature). This week: Sybil. I refer to the television movie that played on CBS last week (I think it was last week - I lose track of time). Awful. Awful. Awful. I had the misfortune of watching this movie just a couple of weeks after the original mini-series (I really miss seeing mini-series, don't you?) finally made its way to the top of my Netflix queue.

The newer Sybil was four hours of material crammed into two hours, terribly rushed and the writing was awful. I know the source material intimately, having spent many hours of my childhood reading the book Sybil, one of the first thick paperbacks I would carry with me when I was likely too young to be reading about such things.

(Sidenote: I went through a period where I was obsessed with books about women and mental illness in various incarnations. I read every book I could about multiple personality disorder and anorexia and various other maladies. Insert your own joke about me here.)

The mini-series, Sybil, however, was slower paced (in a good way) and nuanced and featured wonderful performances by Sally Field and Joanne Woodward. Joanne Woodward was also so brilliant in The Three Faces of Eve. I adore her.

And that brings us to the three faces of me. For those who aren't aware, Sybil is the story of a woman with multiple personality disorder (now known as dissociative identity disorder) and who had 16 distinct personalities. The story also really fascinated me, but as I got older (as opposed to growing up, which I am still not sure I have done), I see that most people have so many different aspects to their personalities that it seems that we all have a bit of dissociative identify disorder (such a fancy name for a disorder). People adapt as they must to various social situations, relating to different groups of people in different ways (and yes, I have touched upon this in my blog before, but it interests me).

For me, I find that it is difficult for me to answer questions like "What is your favorite [insert item here]?" I used to think I had trouble answering this question because of my indecisive nature, but as I get older, I tend to think that it is more that different things appeal to different aspects of my personality. I've found this very true with movies: a list of my favorites changes pretty frequently because different movies speak to me in different ways. This week (last week?) I enjoyed Sybil, and then the next evening sat down to watch Tenacious D in the Pick of Destiny and I laughed. Yes, it was silly and juvenile, but I still laughed. I have a soft spot for Joanne Woodward and Jack Black equally -- though not the same.

Dealing with an almost-four-year-old requires me to use nearly every aspect of my personality (along with brains and resolve) because preschoolers are strangely intelligent creatures for people with little real-world experience. Let me preface this next part by saying that I do not, in any way, endorse cannibalism. However, Jude and I play this grotesque game where we pretend to tear each other's limbs off and eat them or discard them on the floor. I like to rip off his elbows and hide them behind the couch, while he likes to pull off my ears and throw them onto the top of the television set. Earlier this week he was struggling with his pajama top and I offered to "rip off his arms" to help him out. So, I did, tearing off his arms and setting them on the floor. Instead of laughing and reciprocating as he usually does, he just looked at me very seriously and said "Mom, that wasn't nice. How am I supposed to get dressed with no arms?"



Sully still has less moods. He is pretty much happy all the time (unless he is over tired), smiling and laughing which is really great. I think he must get his disposition from his dad. In other news, Sully has officially been introduced to all of his fruits and veggies and has just celebrated his eight-month-anniversary of birth with a simple ceremony in which I said "Hey, Sullivan is 8 months old today" and everyone else in the household nodded and smiled.

In other other news (or maybe I am up to other other other news), Dung! is revamped and running again. Of course the blog's owner refuses to burn his feed, but you can check out the link here if you're so inclined.

Today's song of the day: "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead. It came up today when I was driving in my car, using my poor-woman's Ipod (a burned CD of various songs, set to play on "random" on my CD player) and I shrieked a little, excitedly, even though:
a. I burned the CD;
b. I only burn songs that I like.

Some times it takes so very little to amuse me.

Saturday, May 31, 2008

Let Me Entertain You

Finally, a chance to sit and update the blog. Things are moving right along in the Barefoot universe, now that it is actually warm enough up here in the tundra to walk around barefoot without looking like a psychopath.

Sunshine isn't the only thing entertaining these days; though the warmth is inviting and butterscotchy, I wouldn't recommend staring up at the sun for entertainment. One pair of burned out retinas later and I have learned my lesson.

I think my constant need for entertainment has leaked through my genes (even spelled that way "leaked through my genes" just sounds horrible, doesn't it, like some disgusting olestra-related accident?) I know many people have kids who don masks and run through the house loudly declaring "I'm Batman. I'm Batman." (They do, don't they?) My child takes off his mask, runs around the house yelling "I'm Bruce Wayne. I'm Bruce Wayne."

I try, sometimes too hard, to control my inner geek, but then, out she comes. She just cannot be contained. The women where I work were briefly discussing movies they had recently seen and I unchained myself from the medieval leg irons that generally bind me to my desk long enough to insert myself into the conversation. I really had just intended to listen, to soak up a bit of actual human interaction before immersing myself back into the 47 pounds of paperwork threatening to buckle my otherwise sturdy desk.

During a lull in the conversation, I opened my mouth and where I had meant to just nod and say "Yes, that it good" I actually said "My latest obsession is watching all of the episodes of Mystery Science Theater on DVD". Yep. In those words. The room grew quiet and I could feel the looks upon me. I know those looks; those looks usually precede restraining orders. But, bless J, who looked up at me and said "I remember that show. Very funny. I love the robots." Her validation was the only thing that prevented the remainder of my coworkers from turning on me with their pitchforks.

But, as the sun shines brightly in the sky and the days are longer and gorgeous, and the television season is, at last, over, it is time to pull my loved ones close and reflect on that which really matters more than silly tv time: movies.

This week's Movie Review of Movies You Have Already Seen or Never Plan to See is Office Space. One word: hilarious. I admit that I have seen the movie several times, but it never gets any less funny to me. I wish I could affect such a cavalier attitude toward work instead of being a stressed out knotted-up ball of neuroses, but, alas, have never been able to mutter those immortal words: "I don't like my job and I don't think I'm going to go anymore". There are many movies that I love, Office Space, but you hold a special place in my heart.

Song of the day: "A Girl Like You" from Pete Yorn. I have a thing for guys and guitars and I tend to listen to everything with my heart and not my head. As my husband says, that is a Kimbers song if I ever heard one. Just a very sweet little song that doesn't try to be more than it is and is all the more beautiful for that.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

This Just Isn't Working/Day of Memorial

Originally I had conceived these ideas as two different posts, but as time is limited (as it is, I am practically typing this while giving Sully a bath), I am combining two topics into one mega-blog.

First, there are the work woes which, instead of subsiding, have only grown worse. I won't go into detail, as I have already verbally bitched the topic out. Instead, I want to focus on the broader topic of work. It occurs to be that I have been working on and off (though mostly on) for 20 years. That feels rather like a prison sentence (and, given some of the jobs I have had, a prison sentence might have been less painful). A root canal and colonoscopy combo deal might have been less painful.

If I were still at my first job, well, I couldn't still be at my first job because when I was 14 I worked bussing tables at a restaurant (which has since burned down -- not while I was still working there, though). Of course at 13 and 14, I was a babysitter, but the job at the restaurant was the first where I had my own time card. Then, a job waitressing at a chain pizza restaurant. I am insanely polite to wait staff because I know how hard that job is. I was not a good waitress, based on the number of drinks I spilled on people, said number being more than the number of fingers I have on one hand. That same summer, I also worked the late shift at a sub shop and was equally good at that. My first night, a guy from my high school came in. I tried to cut a piece of bread, cut my own finger instead and ended up bleeding all over his sandwich.

Then, college, where I worked for four years as a library assistant. This was a standout job for me, in that it was actually a job I was good at. And, except for the instance when the county sheriff's office was called (I wish I was making that up), I was a good employee there. I know and love books. My first summer I spent as a counselor in a summer camp for inner-city kids. Then back to school where, in addition to the library job, I also worked as a tutor and in my last two years worked in the school cafe, slinging hash. I spent a summer working in a fudge shop on Mackinac Island. Then, graduation.

After graduation, I put in some time temping. I worked at one office where my sole job was faxing. I was actually engaged to that fax machine for a brief period and, it turns out, that was the most satisfying relationship of my early twenties. I worked as a tutor at the local community college. I spent evenings doing telemarketing (which is every bit as heinous as it sounds). I worked as a clerk in a furniture store. I prepared titles and abstracts at a title company. I worked in a hospital doing patient registrations. While at the hospital, I spent evenings working at a gas station doing second shift. I worked at a law firm as a legal assistant doing personal injury cases (a job I did for nearly 7 years). I cleaned offices during the evening while at that job -- my shortest-lived job (I discovered that the employees at the office where I was cleaning routinely left full cups of coffee in their trash cans and I ended up getting coffee all over myself one too many times). I worked as an assistant to a rabbi and at a private Jewish school. Currently, I work at a legal assistant in a law firm.

The point of that (pointless) work history is to illustrate that I have had jobs. Loads of them. And, I know when a job just isn't working and when I just can't stay. That's where I am now. In not one of the above-listed jobs did I find myself actually crying in the mornings because I dread going into work -- an uncomfortable position in which to find myself. I feel terrible for Jeff for having to listen to my misery every day. So, wish me luck (seriously. Just say it. Please. I need you).

The past three days, in contrast, have been wonderful. Jeff and I have actually both been off of work for three days in a row and have been able to spend time with Jude and Sullivan, quality time, as opposed to the time during the week that translates into my saying "We have to go. We need to hurry. Blah. Blah. Blah." (Half of whatever I say to Jude, I think, automatically sounds like "blah" to him.) Today is Monday, Memorial Day, and I am cognizant of the fact that I am cramming memory--making experiences into these three days. I want to freeze time, just for a little while longer, not only because I am enjoying just being here with my family but because things change so rapidly. Yesterday I had a baby and now we're looking at preschools for him. Three is such an awkward and wonderful age. Jude is getting to be so independent, pulling away from us, boldly declaring he is a "big boy" but then still depends so much on us. I love his freedom and try to foster it as much as possible by letting him make decisions. He sometimes uses that freedom to deliberately disobey. He has decided to share his beloved Mr. Pooh with his younger brother, such a generous act considering how attached he is to that piece of golden fabric.

And Sullivan? I swear that just last evening I was pregnant and now, my baby is over 7 months old. He is rolling over and sitting up and even has a tiny tooth that looks adorable in his perfect grin. How can I stop them from growing just a little? How can I get more days like these last three, days when I can soak up their tiny perfection and their individuals imperfections? More days of picnics and shopping, of going to the park and building sand castles in a little tiny sandtrap.

Okay, now that I have depressed myself on Memorial Day, it is time for an upbeat new feature to the blog which, like newly introduced features in the past, will likely appear in a few blogs and then never be mentioned again. It is time for Movies Reviews for Movies You Have Either Already Seen or Never Intend to See.

This week's Movie is Moulin Rouge. Jude "watched" this with me (he "watched" about half an hour while playing with his pirate ship) and his review is as follows: "This movie was boring. You should throw it in the trash." Now, my take on the movie (and I actually watched it) was a bit different. I loved it (this is my third or fourth viewing of it). It is bold and color, beautiful to look at and to listen to. I love the singing and the dancing, the theatrics and drama and it speaks to my inner bohemian. I fancy myself a bohemian with a full time job and a family and a bedtime of 9:30 p.m. And, of course, Ewan McgGregor, who does love-lorn with the same ease that he does drug-addled and Jedi Knight. If there ever is a film that stars Ewan McGregor as a love-lorn, drug-addled Jedi Knight, I will toss that to the top of my Netflix queue.

Song of the day: Pepper from the Butthole Surfers. Not a song about summer, exactly, but a great song to play with the windows down. I just love it.

Now, I am off to make a few more memories before returning to the work week . . .

Monday, May 12, 2008

Quick: Hide the Porn!

Caution: the following blog contains references to porn and to "The Boy Who Could Fly."

I am having woes at work once more and I want to write about that just as much as you, dear reader(s), wants to read about it. So, let's talk about something that interests me much more.

When I was much younger -- far, far too young to have anything to do with such books -- I happened across the book Xaviera This book, as the cover indicates, is the follow-up to The Happy Hooker. Holding the book in my hand, I was certain that I should not even have it in my possession, so of course, I read it. I had to.

It has been decades (yes, decades plural) since then and all I can remember of the book is thinking "Of course she's happy. She has lots of money and has lots of adventures." Those are my sole memories of the book. The sense of "I shouldn't be reading this" has stayed with me through the years and I find I am still drawn to the books and movies that, for whatever reason, I shouldn't see. Any book or movie that causes controversy or -- better still -- has for some reason been banned or otherwise restricted draws me in.

My lastest "you shouldn't be watching this" experience was "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer". And how jaded I have become from my years of pushing that entertainment envelope. Of course, I already knew about the two controversial scenes in "Henry", so when they rolled around, I wasn't shocked or offended the way that maybe I should have been. Still, my curiosity as always got the better of me and I had to watch it.

Curiosity has lead me down some pretty interesting paths of entertainment. A chance discovery at the local library netted me The Sensuous Woman when I was a teenager and, of course, I had to read Forever as a teen because "some people" (and there are always "some people") complained about the frank depiction of sex between teenagers.

As soon as I read about the controversies created by books like Lolita The Story of Oand 9 1/2 Weeks, I knew that I had to read them. More than read. Devour. Discover what it was contained within those covers that "some people" thought that no one should read.

Ah, and some people shall always have a field day with porn. Porn. Porn. Porn. It is a silly word for what, more often than not in my own humble experience, manages to be silly iteself. I admit to a certain curiosity about porn as well. How could I not be curious about something that is so taboo? My local video store in my tiny home town years ago had the littlest "adult" section possible, a small room with a polite home-made sign reminding customers that "adults only" were allowed in there. What was all the fuss about? I wandered in there, as more often than not I would be the only person in the entire video store, browsing and snickering at the absurd pictures on the boxes. Perhaps I was just too young. But there came a day when I was not too young anymore, when I could actually rent some of this porn I had heard so much about. And, I must say, my initial impression was pretty accurate. What I saw was funny and absurd and it managed to take away everything sexy about sex and turn it into a laughable, poorly acted joke. I saw a porn movie once that contained a scene with a guy pumping away at some gal right on their dinner table -- and right on their dinner. So I was looking at this guy's naked hairy ass, watching him thrust away as peas and pork chops were flying all over and I just could not appreciate the ridiculous grunts that came from him and from her. All I thought about was why they would ruin a perfectly good dinner like that. There was nothing exotic or wonderful about the porn I saw; it was common and ordinary, bodies thrown together in sweaty masses that somehow managed to not be remotely erotic. But the beauty of porn (of course there is a beauty side) is the sheer variety. There are so many different tastes, different fetishes, different desires that I wonder whether there are even two people on this whole planet with the exact same sex drives, exact same sexual desires, exact same sexual preferences. There are so many variables to consider that it the fact that two people can ever align their sexual schedules and interests enough to engage in coitus (or not engage in coitus, depending on their preference). I have seen the women in movies and in magazines (ah, the magazines that are also so forbidden that of course I had to study them) and my overwhelming thought is "Wow. I don't look like that at all." But then I don't resemble the impossibly busty lasses from most of the porn films either.

Speaking of not even remotely erotic, there is that classic film "Caligula" that I just had to see and which I cannot remove from my brain -- though I have tried. I had read enough to be intensely curious and the best I can say is that I never have to see it again. Any movie that can suck the erotic out of an orgy scene doesn't deserve to be controversial.

I just can't seem to say no to controversy when it comes to books or movies. Sometimes, the decision is just a bad one, such as the aforementioned "Caligula" or "Crash." Don't even get me started on how awful I thought "Crash" was -- this being the "Crash" that involved people getting sexually amorous because of car accidents, not the overrated Academy-Award-winning film. Sometimes, though, such as in "The Last Temptation of Christ", I can discover something interesting and thought-provoking. I like having my thoughts provoked. A random, unrelated thread on a movie message board sent me straight into the cinematic arms of Michael Haneke's films. Much has been made of his film "Funny Games" -- particularly after he remade it recently with an American cast. "Funny Games", in particular, is an interesting study in psychological torture. Not only does the movie focus on the torment of the family, but on the audience, turning the voyeuristic quality of such films back on the audience, daring to ask "Why would you watch this?" And it was awful and wonderful at once to wonder why I would ever watch such a film and I was hooked on Haneke's daring, his way of saying "I shouldn't -- but I am." Then, I saw "Benny's Video", an earlier Haneke film and I was disturbed. Again, the voice within me asked "Why would you watch this?" And I knew that my own answer was, of course, because someone said I shouldn't. Then, "The Piano Teacher". Again, I was shocked and saddened for the main character, a women whose masochistic desires lead her down some seriously dark corridors. She made me feel positively well adjusted.

Jeff has watched me wach some of these movies and I must say that I don't drag him down with me (mostly). He has asked me how I can stand it -- particularly a grisly, stark film like "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer". I reply that it is fiction. I want to absorb fiction -- books or movies -- that emigrate from the darker recesses of someone's mind. Fiction. I want no part of reality intruding on my entertainment, though Xavieria is autobiographical debauchery and the book 9 1/2 Weeks is purportedly also autobiographical. I had seen the movie and thought for certain that the book would prove to be tame as well, but there were passages of the book that haunted me. Crept into my brain and took up residence. I took a brief foray into nonfiction crime stories based on the movie "Blind Faith", which I only watched because the movie had Jay Underwood in it and I had liked him so much in "The Boy Who Could Fly".

Of course, these passages were pushed out by later readings of books like American Psycho. When I read that book, I was knocked out. Brilliant satire and disturbing, graphinc images. Of course, "some people" thought that the book was misogynistic and I think "some people" missed the point (and, of course, only made me want to read it more). The main character was misogynistic; that's rather the point of the book, a theme if you will. That, and identity. Oh, and a rather nasty bit with a nail gun and a mouse.

So, I say, if you can't warm someone's heart with a movie like "The Boy Who Could Fly" (which I saw a dozen or more times in my youth), then make something that provokes some other kind of reaction. I would rather be disturbed by the most graphic fictional account possible (and that award goes to you, Chuck Palahniuk, for your book, Haunted) than be indifferent. I want fiction to move me with its beauty or with its ugliness, to shake me to the core with its truth or to make me laugh until I am certain that I will vomit. Anything but indifference. "Some people" say that it is better to be indifferent, but I am just not listening.

Oh, and I have finally decided to do some research for the sake of my blog, so, sitting in the front seat of my car is the same well-worn copy of Xavieria from so many years ago. Yes, I managed to procure it so that I can read it and critique it as an adult (though the status of my adulthood is always subject to debate). Anything for you, dear reader(s).

Monday, April 28, 2008

Making it All Better

There is a need to improve that is universal and ever-present in today's society of bigger and better. I have found myself tapping into my own need to make improvements in my life, internal and external.
Finally, finally the mint green walls of my living room are gone. Though I had toyed with the idea of actually knocking down the walls, it turns out that load-bearing walls are sort of a necessity in a home, so the walls were painted instead. I had auditioned a whole rainbow of colors and found myself addicted to the websites where I could go and test out colors on the walls of someone else's virtual home. Finally, I decided on a bright (warm) color called Sassy Peach. Light doesn't just reflect from the walls now, it seems to come from within the walls. My momma and her good friend, Bev (both suddenly unemployed after 30+ years of working for the same company) drove down while Jeff and I were working and spent the whole day painting for us. (This was a week and a half ago -- I am terribly behind on my blogging.) Then, at the end of the day, we decided to rip out the carpet and got to see the hardwood floors that had been hidden underneath our pathetic, stained carpet. The hardest part of not having carpet is the realization that every piece of furniture in our living room -- including the chair in which I am sitting -- has wheels. So, consider this a big "thank you" for the paint job. Of course, making one room better has fueled my need to do the same to the other rooms in this house.
Better. That's a concept that I -- like most people, I suppose -- have been surrounded by since very early age. Trying to do better. Trying to be better. Trying to make things better. (I know, I know: Do or do not. There is no try.) And having children fuels that desire to not only do better, but to be better. In fact, when one's baby is crying, it is natural to run to the baby, to pick up him, snuggle him close and gently shush him, soothing him with "It's okay. Mommy's here." And sometimes just the nearness of Mom does make things all better.
The need for improvement in my life resulted in my taking a new job a couple of months ago. I don't write about my job much; for me, it is a way to make money -- nothing more. I've found that more money means more stress, though, even to the point of causing insomnia. It seems selfish to complain, though, in the current economy when there are many people without jobs (see above) so I will just leave it at that.
And here they are, the reasons for making it all better.



And, speaking of bigger and better, little Sully Bean had his check up this week. He is up to 17 pounds and over 27 inches. Growing at a great rate and looking very healthy. I am always relieved to hear so after having problems during my pregnancy.
And Jude . . . ah, Jude. What a kid. I didn't realize the impact that all of this love of superheroes was having on his ever-developing mind. Earlier today we turned on the tv and there was a horse race on. Jude glanced at the tv, then looked at me and asked "Which ones are the bad guys?"
It doesn't get much better than that.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

What is the Purpose?

I have discovered my purpose in life: I am here (here being anywhere I physically happen to be) to make other people feel better about themselves. Not, so much in a motivational-speaker kind of way, but in a wow-am-I-glad-I'm-not-her kind of way. Why would I ever say that about myself? Well, let me provide an example.

I work in a professional office and strive to project a very professional image (those who know me can stifle their laughter right now and wait until the end). Earlier in the week, I drove home for lunch so that I could pick up a package I have been expecting for Jeff's birthday. I enjoyed a leisurely lunch on a very pleasant afternoon before driving the 20 minutes back to my office (I have an hour and 15 minutes for lunch, so going home is something I can do now and then when I need to).

I got back to the office parking lot and as I was getting out of the car, became overwhelmed with an I-can't-believe-this feeling. I glided across the parking lot and sat in my chair (which is nearest the back door by the parking lot) and immediately got back to work. A few times I had to get up to the copier or scanner or fax machine and I ran downstairs once to the kitchen to refill my glass of water, all the time, shaking my head. After a couple of hours, I said to the coworker who sits closest to me, "I can't believe I did that." "Did what?" she said, seriously. She really hadn't noticed -- nor, it seems, had anyone else in the office. I pointed to my feet. "I forgot my shoes." I really wish that I was just joking about this, but, sadly, am not. I always drive in the spring, summer and fall (any non-boots months) without my shoes on and I tend to keep my shoes in the car for when I get to my destination. But, when I went home Monday, I must have taken my shoes with me and left them right on the living room floor. So, there I was, not wanting to leave work to go back home (another 40 minute drive) and I didn't exactly want to be barefoot (well, not at work anyway). At least I had my blackest tights on so my legs and feet weren't entirely bare. Still, quite humiliating.

I choose to think that this type of forgetfullness is actually a sign of genius. In fact . . . what was I talking about?

Song of the day: Red House Painters "Have You Forgotten" Because, apparently, I have. I shouldn't, though. Great song.

Sullivan's purpose: to read big books



Jude's purpose: to conquer the world (a little at a time).