two things

a freezing cold day
even Target doesn’t help
I need a blanket

1) So, a couple of days ago I went on about music. Well, my musical taste has abruptly disappeared, as I’m now pretty into Kids in Motion by Greg and Steve. It’s not a great CD really, the music is kiddie stuff and not cool kiddie stuff like TMBG. Yet, there’s something about it. Maybe it’s the fact that it was produced in 1987 so every song has a very faint tinge of Say Anything synthesizer to it. Maybe it’s that a big part of the wee one’s dance class is built around it, so I’m endeared to the music for reasons other than musical ones. Don’t know. But I’m digging in right now. Especially the title track. You can catch a snippet of it on Amazon. Let me know if I’m crazy. This song is totally an 80s movie clone – I can imagine a mall food court montage scene set to it.

2) I forgot what my other thing was. Damn.

visitation

interpreting dreams
something for crackpots to do?
or signs of future?

Last night, Carolyn from the Apprentice visited me. I had a dream that my mom, the wee one and I were out shopping. My mom was helping me find a bathing suit. Suddenly, the bathing suit store turns into a deli-type lunch counter thing. We walk up to the counter to wait in line and I notice that to my left, Carolyn from the Apprentice is sitting on a bench. I get ready to whisper to my mom to look over at the bench, when Carolyn jumps up and greets my mom like they’re long lost friends. And it turns out they are (in the dream only). Apparently in Dream Land, my mom taught Carolyn everything she needed to know about cleaning houses and it changed her life. Carolyn goes on and on saying that even now, when she gets free time, she cleans rooms at the Comfort Inn.

Weird?

It gets weirder.

So then Carolyn starts talking to mom about me – about how I’m mixed up with the wrong people. My mom looks horrified and says, “She is?” and she motions to me, where apparently my face has been hidden from Carolyn because I’m holding the wee one in front of me. Carolyn sees me and smiles and says a name I don’t recognize. Then she pulls out three pictures of the same woman, surrounded by tons of kids. The woman is wearing hideously designed clothes and doesn’t look very happy. She kind of favors Mary Louise Parker. Carolyn points to the woman and looks me square in the eyes. She’s all, “Girl you need to hit that.” And I stare at her like she’s crazy and my mom’s eyebrows rise and I can tell she’s thinking, “Why is Carolyn from the Apprentice telling you to date and/or sleep with this woman? You’re married. You have a child!” So I raise my eyebrows back at mom and I’m like, Beats me. And there’s an awkward moment and then the deli turns into a combination Container Store/grocery store.

So the three of us are walking around, pushing a cart with the wee one in the basket (and he’s sitting there, half-way falling asleep, with an orange juice box on his head). Carolyn keeps putting these big, empty glass containers in the cart and I think, “I hope she’s paying for all this stuff.”

Then it hits me – I realize that the woman she was talking about in the picture is Tina Fey. And I start shouting, “Elizabeth Stamatina Fey?! I love Tina Fey! I want to be Tina Fey when I grow up!” And Carolyn from the Apprentice smiles knowingly and I wake up.

OK.

I usually have weird dreams, but this one was pretty vivid. And I’m pretty sure Carolyn from the Apprentice isn’t trying to get me to come out of the closet. (Because, nothing against Tina Fey – I really do want to be her when I grow up – I just think I might be very uncomfortable seeing her in her underwear.)

I think this dream might have something to do with my writing. But who the hell knows. I really want to go to the Container Store now, though, and buy a lot of glass containers with white lids.

dear god

gazing into “eyes”
erotic beeping ensues
time for robot love

In the car the other day, the wee one was making kissing noises. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that he was making his Threepio and Artoo action figures kiss. It was kind of cute.

But then I started thinking about Threepio-Artoo slash. I’m afraid to google it. It has to exist, don’t you think? Heh. I don’t know what I fear more… tales of robot erotica, or the horrifying grammar that would describe it.

stolen maymay

can’t think of nuthin
must replace any thinking
with high school maymay

YOUR SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

[What year was it?]
1993-94

[What were your three favorite bands?]
Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, Simon and Garfunkel.
Seriously.

[What was your favorite outfit?]
jeans, concert t-shirt, flannel, chuck taylors

[What was up with your hair?]
crazy curly, parted to the side, pretty much your basic triangle hair

[Who were your best friends?]
Kate and Laura

[What did you do after school?]
Theatre practice, moping, crayon melting, tree climbing, and whining about various existential crises like “why do people think they need to be popular?” and “how can you be real to yourself, bitch, when you’re drunk off your ass and making out with my ex?”

[Did you take the bus?]
I walked to school, right past a weird suburban farm where the cows and bulls were always on top of each other, going at it like crazy. It was such a nice allegory for high school.

[Who did you have a crush on?]
the cutest boy ever (who happens to be my husband now)

[Did you fight with your parents?]
Nah. I was pretty easy going and so were they.

[Who did you have a CELEBRITY crush on?]
Eddie Vedder and Holly Hunter

[Did you smoke cigarettes?]
hell no – I was too afraid they’d make me throw-up

[Did you lug all of your books around in your backpack all day because you were too nervous to find your locker?]
I lugged them around all day because I always had 17 tons of homework and my locker was on the other side of the world from my classes

[Did you have a ‘clique’?]
Do theatre geeks count as a clique?

[Did you have “The Max” like Zach Kelly and Slater?]
I have no idea what this is.

[Admit it, were you popular?]
Nah. I knew of people. People knew of me. That was about it.

[Who did you want to be just like?]
Maybe Edward Albee. Even though I wanted to be a museum curator, I had this secret desire to become a famous playwright.

[What did you want to be when you grew up?]
A museum curator but NOT a gallery owner (I had some naive idea that curators could be true to the art while gallery owners how to bow to money pressure)

[Where did you think you’d be at the age you are now?]
Even at 17 I felt this tug between wanting to wear fancy suits and work downtown at a museum, and wanting to wear my chucks forever and have babies and stay at home. I just wanted to make sure I was going to be a happy adult, but I didn’t really know what was going to make me happy.

research

an anomaly
or just no big deal at all
readers are the key

A question for you, dear readers:

Have you ever been stung by a bee? A wasp?

I’m 28 years old and have been stung by neither. I recently chatted with someone else close to my age (the famed dance teacher) who has never been stung, and we thought “isn’t that crazy?” But maybe it’s not crazy. Maybe there are tons of people who have never been stung.

So have you?
Have you not?
Inquiring minds want to know.

music

sometimes it’s painful
other times it makes you melt
a daily soundtrack

Two interesting music notes:

1) While I was in the grocery store yesterday, they were piping in Portishead. Not Celine Dion, not elevator-ized Michael Jackson, not Kenny G… for real and for true Portishead. Just one more reason why I heart HEB. Gosh that’s a great store.

2) You know the soundtrack for Garden State? If you don’t, you should. Right now it’s totally the kind of music I just want to wash over me (and I’m usually a thrashy, Nirvana kind of girl). I want to be IN this soundtrack. Not as a part of a band or anything like that – I want to float in the music. I want to envelope myself in the music. I don’t know what it is, but I guess it really fits my mood these days. It’s not melancholy unless you want it to be, but it’s slow, thoughtful, heartwrenching, lovely music. The Shins, Nick Drake, Thievery Corporation… I have no words. I am obsessed with this album.

yoga

nice, healthy stretching
the chants are pretty fun, too
“leave my mat alone!”

I bought yoga pants. I bought a yoga top. I bought a yoga mat. I bought a yoga DVD. What I should have done was scrap all that crap, put on some old sweat pants, hire a babysitter and take a class at the Y.

Instead, here is a transcript of me trying to feel “enlightened” as I “listen[ed] to my body” and feel “the energy extend from my fingertips.”

ME: Mommy’s gonna do some yoga this morning, then we’ll go to the grocery store.

WEE ONE: Are we gonna yoga dance with the new DVD?

ME: That’s exactly right.

[I lay out mat on the floor, turn DVD on, try to follow instructions]

INSTRUCTIONS: Be aware of your breathing…

ME: Wee One, can you stop playing drums on my butt?

WEE ONE: hee hee hee hee

INSTRUCTIONS: Align your hips and your spine as you—

WEE ONE: Can we watch Dora?

ME: Later. Mommy needs to find her inner peace.

INSTRUCTIONS: For this next pose, you should place your foot—

WEE ONE: Can I have some more milk?

ME: [out of the corner of my mouth, as if the DVD yoga lady can actually see me] In a minute.

WEE ONE: [going all flopping armed and headed while making these “unh” “buh—” “now” noises]

ME: What do you say?

WEE ONE: [unhappily] please.

ME: [pausing the mocking smiling visage of Yoga Lady on my TV, going to get milk]

ME: Here’s your milk, baby. Can mommy do yoga now?

WEE ONE: [grabbing yoga mat] Can I do yoga too?

ME: Gimme the mat back. It is not a cowboy rope. [grabbing mat, placing it back on the floor] OK. You can do yoga with me. [unpausing DVD]

INSTRUCTIONS: Make sure your hips are turned out, your face is turned up, your ass is all clenchy, your armpits are sweating, your anger is welling…

ME: OUT OF MY WAY. I CAN’T SEE THE SCREEN!

WEE ONE: [going all floppy again] UN, buh– I was just. I wanna do the yoga dance.

ME: [calming down]: Can you do the yoga dance behind me?

WEE ONE: [going behind me, pretending to cut my hair with his toy dr. kit clamp] Sure.

INSTRUCTIONS: Now use your legs to lift your spine and—

DOG: whine whine whine whine whine whine whine

ME: What the hell is the matter with you, Newman? [pause] Sorry, Newman. What’s wrong boy? Oh, you’re about the pee on my carpet because I was so concerned with yoga I forgot to let you out this morning? Sorry. Here you go. [pause DVD, open back door.]

WEE ONE: Let’s have oatmeal.

ME: [building to a simmer, talking very slowly, trying to remain calm] I’ll fix you more oatmeal. You watch mommy do yoga. Deal?

WEE ONE: [dances around room, throws one lego, hammers the wall with toy found under sofa] Sure.

[Oatmeal is served. DVD unpaused. I go stand on my mat one more time.]

INSTRUCTIONS: The whatthefuck warrior pose is my favorite. It relaxes me and makes me feel confidant.

DOG: [from outside] whine whine whine whine whine

ME: [gritting teeth, stomping to open door]

INSTRUCTIONS: Can you feel the stretch? Isn’t this relaxing?

WEE ONE: Mommy, I’m booooooooored.

ME: JUST LET MOMMY DO YOGA SO SHE CAN RELAX AND BE ALIGNED WITH THE FRIGGIN WORLD

ME: Sorry. We never never say ‘friggin’ OK, baby?

WEE ONE: [staring at me like I’m crazy, which assuredly I am]

INSTRUCTIONS: As you feel the world float away, let your eyes relax. Your mouth relax. Your whole face relax. Now let your mind relax.

WEE ONE: Can we play legos, mommy?

ME: [big sigh, felt though my rib cage and diaphragm and all that bullshit] Sure, little man. Let’s play legos.

INSTRUCTIONS: Now you can go about your day feeling relaxed and refreshed.

ME: [giving unfriendly finger salute to the TV as I reach for the remote]

INSTRUCTIONS: Namaste.

ME: I got yer namaste in that diaper right over there.

WEE ONE: Mooooooooommy, COME ON.

ME: [turning TV off, walking down hallway] How was your oatmeal? Can we change that diaper?

stupid “acceptance”

how dare they try to
promote acceptance to kids
we want them to hate!

File this under Give me a Friggin’ Break.

bah

TV off limits
at least for this afternoon
I might go crazy

This exact day, in 1997, I was in Washington DC with my boyfriend (now my husband), celebrating the second inauguration of Bill Clinton. It was bitter cold. I mean freezing ass, toes turning black, cold. Something like 11 degrees, not factoring in the windchill.

We wandered around, listened to bands, drank champagne under a tent, ate state fair type food, and capped the day watching some really gorgeous fireworks explode over various monuments.

It’s a great memory. If I had more than five seconds to write this post, I’d fill you on more details. But I can’t. The wee one has smuggled rocks from the playground into the house and is trying to stick them into the computer tower. Not cool.

I’m sure there’s something clever I could write about the passage of time, the changes in my life, the changes in politics, etc. But right now I really, really have to go get the rocks out of the CD burner.

wrong

life ruled by TV
the mood-altering colors
make me so happy

I shouldn’t admit this, but around this time every Wednesday my heart skips a beat because I remember that Lost is on in approximately 6 hours. And now Alias is on after it. And it is as if the world has come into focus for the first time all week. I feel celebratory and cheerful.

This is so wrong on many levels. But it’s true.

Lost is on tonight. eeeeeeeeee.