JP. OUT.

Ah, my last entry of the year. How anticlimactic. I hate writing retrospectives, and since this is my blog and all, I usually just don't. Not that anything major happened in the last twelve months, I mean, HR only learned to walk and feed himself and turned one and gave up nursing and started talking and a million other huge small things. No big deal. But though it's a constant marvel for me how he grows and becomes more of a functional human being by the minute, I know that's just life, it happens, and it happens fast and looking back on it in year-sized portions only makes it seem crazier.

As for the coming year, I never make resolutions. I'm one of those jerks. The truth is, life is pretty great and if it didn't change much outside of the wild unpredictable biteable-cheeked change machine that is our son, then I'd be more than OK with that. I know when I'm sitting on a pile of gold.

I assure you, it's not as painful as it sounds.

All right, so maybe the coming year will bring some actual writing from yours truly. Maybe it'll be the year I get a full night's sleep. Maybe my muffin top will vanish into the ether, or we'll win the lottery. Who knows what's coming? Not knowing is part of the fun. So I'm just going to be over here keeping on doing my thing. And you just be safe and happy as you close the books on 2011. See you on the other side.

One thing for sure about this year: I've really been into Les Miserables for whatever reason. So ending with this selection seems fitting.

However Do You Want Me?

I was firmly entrenched back in reality yesterday, but with work catch-up the entire day got away from me. So, hi! And welcome to the post-Christmas world. I am that idiot who actually starts getting sad on Christmas day because it means the wait is over. Yes, I have lots to look forward to, with New Year's weekend, and second Christmas with part of my family the following weekend. Not to mention the year ahead with my loved ones and all it will bring. But I still lament the loss of pre-holiday time. Phooey.

HR is back to sleeping like hell, but I believe it's a temporary condition brought on by 1) two massive bumps under his bottom gums; 2) acclimating to sleeping at home after sleeping away for a few nights and 3) the huge developmental leaps he's making. Suddenly, his mimicry is off the charts. I'd give you some examples, but they're really only impressive in person. Plus, maybe he can't stay asleep because he's thinking about the tons and tons of new toys that he got for Christmas and wants to be up playing with them? Oh my spoiled little boy.

Anyway, my blues and nighttime woes, like everything, will pass soon enough. I'm grateful to have spent another terrific holiday full of food and games and toddler delight and whatnot with my awesome family. And I've got piles and piles of stuff to get done at work before we can put this year to bed. So, on with it.

Bring Out Yer Chex Party Mix

I have a few hours' worth of work left to do, then I'm off through Christmas. I'm so very thrilled about this, both the time-off factor and the holiday itself. I think I'm finally starting to get in touch with my inner elf, which is a lucky thing because I have a bit of wrapping to do tonight and that's just a boring chore if you're not in the right mood. So I haven't bought all my presents. So my chocolate-covered peanut butter balls failed, big-time. I'll get gifts to people by the time I see them most likely, and really, do I need to add my sugary fatty contribution to an already overflowing buffet of party food happiness? We'll all pack on our little Christmastime food babies without that particular bit of help from my kitchen.

Hmm, this attitude is pleasing me. We'll see if I can keep it up when we really get into the holiday swing... chances are good I will because I have a secret weapon called booze that generally helps in those situations. I don't want that exactly to be the lesson that HR takes away from me (like I said, it's my "secret" weapon), but I'll do what I can to show him that these joyous occasions don't also have to be associated with stress. Not that he'll notice anything but himself for years to come, but you never know what these munchkins internalize. I'm just looking forward to getting to the homestead, stuffing my face, and playing my part as new traditions mix with the old ones.

Good times. Back to the last bit of nuttery to be dealt with until next week. Happy every little thing to every single one of you!

Ooh La La En Francais

This day is kicking my butt. And my brain's butt. And my soul's butt, to a lesser extent. It's all good though, the day's flown and I'm glad that it's nearly quitting time, so I can go home and do a million more things I need to get done. Or pass out, whichever comes first. This year I'm not even remotely stressed because, eh, it's just Christmas. Some things might be late or whatever, people will understand. I'm in good shape at work, so that's the important thing. What concerns me, though, despite my harping on it at every turn, is that my holiday spirit has actually been downright MIA and at T-minus FOUR days to Christmas, I've got to start psyching myself up. So here is where I decide to just let go and let it wash on over me because if I don't do it now, it'll pass me by. So let's go, Christmas guy. Let's do this thing.

Here's a song I've already posted here like 100 times, but come on. You can see why this made the cut.

Pop Pop!

The reverse tooth fairy stopped by last night, making me eat my words about the boy's return to normal sleeping. Poor boo. Tonight should be better, but if not, tomorrow. It's always a day away, as that annoying ginger orphan keeps reminding us.

Otherwise things keep moving along, the pace is a bit too rapid for my taste as it always seems to be this time of year, but I can't give you a single complaint, if I'm being honest. Maybe if I have time tomorrow I'll touch upon the underlying wistfulness I usually experience during my favorite season. But for today, all's just as it should be.

Now light them candles and pop a 40 of Manischewitz because it's the first night of Chanukah!

The Life

So busy! So happy! Work life is on full tilt until I get to make my Christmas escape at the end of the week, and home life is packed too, but there's all good stuff in the mix. To wit:

-#1 son has gifted me with a four-nights-in-a-row return to normal sleep habits (no jinx!). Don't know if my midnight patience paid off, or he just remembered how to sleep on his own but either way it's awesome.

-Mike and I finally invested in a treadmill as a our present to ourselves and our future selves, and I put some happy miles on that baby first thing this morning. Running outside is always better, but when the weather report is saying 19 degrees I'm content to stay inside and get my sweat on, robot-style. Plus the overachiever in me gets a thrill from being able to chart my progress so easily.

-Man we have good friends. Just in general, but we also cherish them in a special way when, say, they'll assist in the daunting project of getting said treadmill into our house when the delivery guy bails. Thanks, dudes! To more friend time in 2012!

-I have a date with the final Harry Potter movie tonight, I've been looking forward to it for so long, and though it would have been better in the theater, nothing sounds more delicious to me tonight than kicking back on my couch and seeing off my Hogwarts friends in the comfort of my home and stretchy pants.

Major Holiday Preparations commence tomorrow. For now, I'll be taking advantage of a chance to chill.

Crammed

Did I sound ungracious enough for you yesterday? After reading it over, I decided I need to take a moment today to say, first, that when I spout off like that I'm in no way representing the opinions of my employing agency, just my own, and most importantly that we are truly grateful for people's constant thoughtfulness. There are some things that come through the door that are patently bizarre, but overall we are treated so well by our donor base and I don't want anyone to think I'm less than thankful for the outpouring of generosity I am privileged to witness year-round. I'm not apologizing for yesterday's entry, but I do think it can't hurt to make it extra clear that I only wanted to give potential givers the perspective of someone inside the charity and not bash people for what amounts to their own business. I've always wanted to state my peace on that, and this is my forum. So there.

Time's short, but I have two movies I want to talk about real quick:

1) the mini-series adaptation of Stephen King's Bag of Bones on A&E. Anyone but me watch it? I loved this book so much, and expected to be disappointed anyway, but mah. gahd. it was terrible. Clunkily adapted, unbelievably overacted and miscast like crazy. Melissa George, for whom I have an inexplicable distaste to begin with, was wayyy wrong for Mattie Devore. Pierce Brosnan, though I give him mad props for aging realistically and still looking Le Suave, is too glamorous to be a King hero. I'll spot them Anika Noni Rose because she's bad ass, but damn, it was... not good. So I can't recommend this unless you want to view it for trash-talking purposes. With me.

2) Did I talk about White Christmas last year? I feel like I did, but no matter because here it is again. It's a movie that, for all intents and purposes, I should love. A musical. About Christmas. With Danny Kaye, who is super fun to watch. But no, I don't love it. I find it sort of boring, truth. And I know this is mean but I have to tell you that Vera Allen freaks me out. What is up with her waistline? It's like looking at someone who got wrung to death in the midsection. She's like a cartoon, or a fetish dream. I just can't take her seriously and it ruins the viewing. That said, I'll never see the day where I can get through the General scene without bawling my eyes out. I have a wicked soft spot for that type of WWII camaraderie hoo-ha. Greatest generation, indeed.

Well that surge of semi-negativity was energizing! Back to the pure love part. I'm a long-lapsed Catholic, but back in the days when I went to church, I always loved the solemn beauty of this carol. It's no surprise that Christmas Eve mass with the choir was always packed because in addition to the full-time faithful, it attracted the part-time practitioners, and even people like me now who don't do religion but do beauty instead.

In Which I Boss You Around

What's the best nation on earth? DO-nation!

It's no secret that I work for a nonprofit organization. I have worked for this one for nearly 15 years, and before that I was a volunteer so I guess you could say I'm committed to the mission of this particular charity. I love what I do, and for whom I do it, and I'm very proud of not only of our reputation, service-wise, but because it's public record that nearly all the money that comes into this place goes to the program. The percentage of funds that go to payroll and fundraising is about as small as we can get away with. I'm just saying if you're looking for a place to give money, this is a good one and it makes a huge and immediate impact.

But this isn't a shill for my place of work. It's just that this time of year the spirit of giving is everywhere, not just limited to friends and family. Everyone feels compelled to do more, (and many also try to get a tax break before time is up, while they're at it). I don't have a problem with the whens and whys, the fact that people give at all is enough for me. That's not where I get all judgy. This post is for people who want to give and maybe don't know where to start, or already give but want to know how they can be most helpful. Here's a hopefully useful little guide that is admittedly colored by my many years in the business.

1) It really is all about the cha-ching-cha-ching. I have not come across a single charity that would refuse a monetary donation, or that doesn't need money above everything else. At this time of year, everyone wants to buy toys for kids, I get that, it's sexy and it hits right in the heart. And there are many charities specifically designed for this. But no matter what the organization, your best contribution is the kind that comes from your wallet. This is not cynicism, this is how it works. As far as I know, even food pantries would ideally be happier with the funds to replenish their stock than to try and use up 100 cans of asparagus before their expiration. If you insist on donating in-kind, ask the organization if they have a wish list, and stick to the items on the list. Really though, I'm not sure why people are so turned off by giving money if they're really informed about where it's going. And though I am guilty of this as the next person of waiting until the last minute, do consider making your gift before December, when the bulk of donations come in. If it is that late in the year, please be understanding that you might not get a receipt right away. If you're the kind of person who procrastinates on your gift, you're not doing your taxes in January.

2) Volunteering is great - but be realistic about your reasons. We get many, many calls here from people who want to give time, but they want to do it on their terms for their reasons, meaning, they have a picture in their heads about what it means to volunteer and when you let them in on the realities of it, the bubble is burst. I'm lucky to work with many awesome, amazing volunteers, and though every one will say that what they do here is rewarding, they've all at one time or another given their time in unglamorous, boring ways. There are some times where a volunteer can go months without seeing an actual child, or have shifts where they're taking messages nonstop, but they don't bat an eye because they're in touch with the organization's actual needs vs. some romantic vision of making a difference in a child's life through copious craft-making. Coming in with expections often makes more work for the staff, too. Just be thoughtful, is my point. If you don't want to do what the organization asks of you, you're just not a good fit. Also: if you want to volunteer on a holiday, try to find out earlier than the month before if you can help and how.

3) Be informed. By law, any charity's 990 is public record. If you want to know anything about how a nonprofit does its business, get the 990. If you don't like how they handle the funds, move along sister. See also: what I said about volunteering and giving. If you're serious about being a donor in any form, really listen to the charity's wishes. I can't stress this enough.

4) Consider a donation as a holiday gift for loved one. Most adults you know really don't need another thing at the holidays. I often make donations in people's names, and it's always received happily. I'm not talking about "Human Fund" cheapo bullshit, I'm talking about taking what you'd normally spend on that person and showing them how you used it to help someone in their name. And they don't have another figurine to dust. It's win-win! It's a great lesson for kids too, but that's a whole other entry.

After all this, you're probably wondering, do I give? What kind of asshole would I be if I didn't? Without going into uber-detail, the bulk of my donations go to this place, because it's the charity closest to my heart, but we also like to make sure we give a bit to services we think are essential: animals, elder care, GLBTQ rights, Planned Parenthood. Everything we choose has been carefully researched so that we feel confident that the money isn't going back into publicity or keeping the fundraising machine going. We eschew just about anything that sends huge bundles of perks - address labels, cards and wrapping paper, the like. Guilt-buying is the surest way to turn me off as a prospective donor.  We'll also give to any one of our friends raising money for just about any reason, but that's just good karma. The point is, we are not rich, and it's not like we give a ton, but there are many places where even $25 a year can do something. Just about anyone can give in some way.

I'm not trying to show off or be sanctimonious. I know I probably come off sounding that way, but if it helps one person help another person, then I don't care.

Now as a palate cleanser, here's an awesome holiday tune from the least charitable character this side of The Grinch:

Now Bring Me Some Friggin' Pudding*

I'm super busy processing gifts which is probably the best part of my job, and my favorite way to be overwhelmed here. It reminds me that I've been meaning to talk about charity, and share my strong opinions about the best ways to make an impact through charitable gifts, both at this time of year and (ideally) throughout. So... that'll be tomorrow.

Today though, while I've broached the subject of giving, here's a little carol I enjoy:



*My Gram thinks these are the lyrics, for real. My Gram is awesome, in case you didn't already know.

Realizations

This weekend's early chanukah gathering was off the proverbial hook. All children and adults were shamefully spoiled, present-wise, but more importantly, it was a nice day of visiting and playing and sitting by the fire and plowing through some serious food. Latkes, am I right? I have to blaspheme and say they were overshadowed this year by steak sandwiches with an out-of-this world homemade chimichurri. But potato pancakes, still, are one of the best things of earth (and possibly earth 2).

HR idolizes his big-boy cousins. He wants their attention so badly, I could see him pulling out all the stops (doing his burping impression, laying it on thick with riotous laughter), looking for acknowledgement, some kind of reaction form them. What goes on in these little toddler heads? The boys are great with him, and it was so fun watching them interact. As for his four-months-younger cousin, I think the two munchkins are more content to move in orbit around each other than have a real back-and-forth. They were pretty good at sharing toys though, so that bodes well for future friendship. The excitement of the day was actually a bit much for both little ones, they were adorable, but overstimulated, so much so that our chowhound even refused dinner. We had to stick him in the pack & play a little earlier than usual which allowed us to have a leisurely grown-up dinner while he got some much needed shut-eye. Maybe next year is when the little 'uns will really, really get the whole concept of holiday parties and of being cousins I guess? But any way you look at it, it's all good.

Yesterday was a great day. Sundays have been bringing it as one of my favorite days lately, it's when I have my alone time with HR and we've sort of developed a nice easy schedule for park/lunch/nap/play/walk Dada home from work. When we retrieved Mike in the late afternoon yesterday we lingered at his place for a drink and looking outside at the darkness all dressed up in lights for the holidays it all finally gelled for me the way it does about once a year, that feeling of warmth and anticipation and mostly appreciation. Just savoring the moment with myself and my family. And then on the walk home we took the long way so we could check out Somerville's finest light displays, and I pushed the stroller while HR walked, holding his father's hand. I was a bit ahead so I stopped and waited and as I watched them come toward me I realized OHMYGOD he's not a baby any more. Just like that. He looked so grown. And it broke my heart in the tiniest way, but more than that it filled me up with pride and gratitude, you know? That there was my own little big boy, so healthy and strong, so sure in the knowledge that he'll always have a hand to hold. Even if our sleep woes never change, he's thriving in pretty much every way. When I look at him, I no longer see the helpless squalling bundle we brought home 19 months ago. All of a sudden he's his own person and that person is the bees knees.

Just saying.

Anyway, I've always liked this song. In my head it's being played at the coolest holiday parties that I'll never be invited to, or only exist on TV.

Deal With It

This weekend we're doing chanukah-in-one-day with Mike's family, and I'm really looking forward to getting together with the whole family. I'm especially anticipating seeing HR and his little cousin interact, they're finally at the age where they get interested in other little ones and don't just play side-by-side. This is the stage, too, where they're starting to enjoy the gift-exchange portion. They were both too small last year to even notice what was going on, and to me the unbridled excitement of kids opening presents is the best part of any gift-giving occasion. We'll make sure to have the video recorder at the ready.

I find myself wishing I had my own Christmas tree at home, but there's really no space. Besides, there's a small magpie who lives with us for whom fragile glass bulbs and shock-y things are irresistible. I've got a lovely tree to gaze upon at work, and there will be at least one when we go up to Maine so that ought to fulfill my craving. Still, there's nothing like sitting in the evening in your own home and admiring the festive ornamentation. Maybe next year, or when he's five.

I don't mean for every entry to be the blog equivalent of Hallmark channel sparkle holiday unicorn mistltoe magic pants from November to January. But it just comes out. No apologies. While I'm being unrepentant: here's quite possibly the dorkiest thing I've ever liked.

One of Those Interactive Dealies

In case anyone is keeping score, though HR ended up in the big bed at 3 a.m. again, the first wake-up took 4 minutes of soothing instead of 45 before he went back to sleep. I'm calling it progress.

Real quick, what are your favorite holiday-related movies? Not specials - that's a separate post. I'm talking feature films here. In no particular order, here's my top 10.

Let's get the obvious ones out of the way:
-Elf
-A Christmas Story
-It's A Wonderful Life

I also adore:
-Auntie Mame - the original with Rosalind Russell, not to be confused with the yucky musical version with Lucille Ball.
-The Sound of Music - there are no holidays in this, but it makes me think of the holidays regardless.
-Love, Actually - it just gives me that feeling in the bottom of my soul, you know?
-The Ice Harvest - for those who like a little darkness with their string of lights. Super funny, excellent cast.
-Scrooge, the musical, with Albert Finney.
-A Muppet's Christmas Carol, natch.
-Trading Places - if you have to ask why, you have to watch it. Now.

As with all lists, I'm sure I have left off something big and obvious. But they are all movies that I cherish, especially this time of year. Which do you love the most? Or hate the most? Sometimes that's even more fun to discuss.

As emo holiday music seems to be my theme this week, let's go all in with this classic (which is also from a great movie to watch at Christmastime).

Fie! Etc.

Sugar cookies with tea and clementines is a perfectly acceptable lunch if it is December or if you were up a lot with a regressing toddler. Meaning, I double earned that deliciousness.

Yep, obviously the sleep fairy has rescinded her blessing upon our house and we're once again finding ourselves in the throes of one of the least pleasant tasks associated with parenting a healthy child: sleep training. Not just regular sleep training either, but middle-of-the-night sleep training. We had it so good for awhile, we finally got it so HR would go to sleep and stay asleep for a reasonable amount of time. And it came and went but mostly stayed that way. I could count on him staying in his crib until at least 4 a.m. for a good six month period. I was at peace with the notion that my boy would never be a great sleeper, but hey, good enough. And then this thing happened where he was up earlier and earlier and we got tireder and tireder and just took him into bed with us, which, as it turns out, he loves. So now when I try to resist bringing the monkey child from his bed to ours when he's having a screaming fit in the early a.m. darkness, it's a THING. And I don't want that, I think it's for the best for us all to put a stop to it. Last night's initial attempt was semi-successful-- I got him to put himself back down at the 1:00 wake up within (the longest ever) 45 minutes, then gave in and brought him in bed when he woke again at 3:30. I know I need to be tougher than that if I want it to really work. The problem is, my resolve weakens considerably as morning approaches. I've decided I'm giving myself this week to take a decent shot at breaking us all of the bed sharing habit. If it doesn't work, then we'll co-sleep until he's 15. I don't care, at least we all sleep pretty well.

It's so frustrating because I really thought we were done with this, and we got used to being able to count on a certain type of behavior from HR. A taste of honey and all that. Anyway, I had better get going and capitalize on the energy I built up on this morning's surprisingly cleansing run before the lack of shut-eye comes back around with the clampdown.

I don't like many holiday songs that were written after the 1980s, but this is one of those exceptions. It's long and it's a sad bastard to be sure, but the holidays are for the melancholy, too.

Narcissist-in-Training

Once again I stand before you with an empty hand. Tomorrow should allow for more time to produce content. Or not. But who says you need to write to be a blogger, anyway? Am I right? As a sort of apology for my extremely boring phase, here's a glimpse of what life is like in my home, for the most part. We don't have the giant mirror, but we have the giant un-self-conscious ham going to town in front of it.



This is pretty much why we keep him around despite his latest round of sleep shenanigans.

Todays pick is to be filed under "yet another song I can't actually listen to as it results in bawling":



The implication that it's a song told from the point of view of a soldier at war is too much for me to handle, emotionally, so I only indulge if I'm in need of a good cry. If you're made of stronger stuff, however, have a listen for me.

Stick to Not Writing Metaphors

Busy-ness is my business right now, so my posts are suffering. Someday I'll do some for-reals writing again, but that someday is not today. I will however regale you with a holiday tune. I posted this one last year by a different artist, and I'm sure it won't be the last time, there are lots of stellar versions and it's my favorite non-secular carol. Josh Groban is one of those dudes that I came around to in a backward manner, I had never heard his music, but he kept popping up in comedic cameos, making fun of his image, and it made me like him. Though I'm wont to go out and purchase a Groban CD for every day listening, I think what he does here is breathtaking.

We can still be friends even if this is the straw that broke the back of the camel of my not-lameness.

I Also Read Books

Last night, between deciding that George's daughter's wedding dress on Bored to Death was the exact dress I'd choose if I had it to do over again, and unhealthily obsessing over Amy's plaid frock on Enlightened (seriously, anyone know where I can buy it?), I realized that I'm way into clothes. I guess I was as a younger person, but by senior year of high school, which conveniently coincided with the grunge craze, I became all about function in how I chose to outfit myself. I've had fits and starts of being into personal fashion here and there, but these efforts were smothered in a closet full of jeans and hoodies before they could really take off. For some reason I'm getting all up in it again now, choosing signature pieces, paring down the rest. I'm far from stylish, but I'm developing my own style for real. I know what I want and I'm willing to wait for it to come along instead of buying cheap things willy-nilly. The jeans and hoodies will always be there for me, but they are no longer my uniform. I'm sure you're thrilled to know all that. It's just sort of baffling to me how I couldn't have cared less for so long, and now I'm all, "yay clothes!"

Last night I dreamed that I made out with Ed Helms. I'll spare you the nonsensical build-up to the event, the point is I never thought about him in that way before going to sleep last night, but now I realize I'd probably make out with the Nard Dog if given the chance. I've always been attracted to comedians. Ask my parents, until I was in college I was pretty sure I was going to end up marrying Jerry Seinfeld. I changed my mind about his marriage potential at some point, but he's an early example of how funny sells as much as sexy. Not that I'm buying right now, but hey, I can't help my dreams.

In conclusion, I probably watch too much TV.

Do you love Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers? That's not really a question. Of course you do. (Keep in mind that while the clowns and snowman plushies in this clip are a bit disturbing, they're not as disturbing as what poor Kenny's since done to his face.)

Sigh

See? Wasn't that ridiculously fast? Didn't I just write that post about time about five minutes ago and here is a week gone by already? Dang. At least I still have the rest of the holiday season to keep me buoyed up, but I have to say I hit a pretty low point yesterday when my house cleared out after the extended weekend of family, food and games. Thanksgiving happened! There's no more Thanksgiving to anticipate this year! You know? Sure you know. Anyway. The return to quiet and relative order was nice after a bit, but I was feeling a smack of depression that I recognized well. It's the kind that lets me know I just had a great time because I get a homesick feeling when it's over. What a luxury to realize that when I'm feeling down, that's almost always the reason, and after a little taking stock and adding some distractions (escapist TV such as Once Upon a Time and various Hallmark channel holiday movies that shall not be named, or more accurately cannot be named because they are all comfortingly the same; thoughts of what's to come, and of course my increasingly hilarious 19-month-old pal), it's easily remedied. As ever, I am so lucky.

Also I'm bombarded at work, as will be the norm for awhile, so that's all I have time for today, except to say, bring on the rest of the winter holidays! Just not too quickly.

Oh, and here's the first pick of Joyberry Pie's second annual holiday music free-for-all. Starting off on a very mellow tip.

TG IN YOUR FACE

I think I might love TG eve more than Thanksgiving. If you've known me or read this thang for any amount of time, you probably already guessed this. The point is, I'm all a-hum with merriment, even as I'm a little bummed out because a snowstorm up north will most likely keep my family from getting here until tomorrow morning. I'd much rather they travel in safe conditions, but nature can be a real pain in the tuchus sometimes.

Anyway, as I stated earlier, I'm monumentally thankful for everything in my life. I have more than anyone has a right to, and I know it. But it wouldn't be like me if I didn't jump on an opportunity to make a list. Below are ten things for which I'm currently especially thankful that aren't big things like family and friends and health and job, not because I take them for granted, but because those are always at the top of my list and I imagine it gets a bit boring to read about year after.

1) The Minuteman library network, including the new electronic borrowing system. I am never sans reading material. It's a dream.

2) Music - old stuff, new stuff, I'm all about it. We try to keep the TV off and music on for most of the day at home, and I've been really digging the Stage & Screen station on Music Choice. If HR doesn't grow up to be a Broadway nerd, it won't be from Mama's lack of trying. Plus now that it's nearly December, it's full license for holiday tunes all the time.

3) Beans. All the kinds. They are a totally awesome cheap and nutritious food staple in our house that all three of us love. Coincidentally (?) the little boy is starting to appreciate fart humor.

4) Sleep. It's still not perfect, but we've come a long way. Maybe this time next year I'll be even more thankful for even more sleep, but if this is the best it gets I can deal.

5) Coffee.

6) The return of Beavis & Butt-Head. No further comment needed.

7) Photographs - I love my phone camera and digital camera, but there's nothing to me like a picture in a frame. We just hung a few new ones this morning, and I love having the visual record of our lives. We'll run out of wall space by the time the kid is three, but we'll deal with it then.

8) Cheese. Food in general always gets a shout-out, but I'm ridiculously glad I'm not vegan or lactose intolerant. I could give up meat rather easily but cheese? That'd be a struggle.

9) Dates! Not the fruit (though they are not without their charms), but the time I get to spend with my husband, just the two of us. It's become a rarity, and maybe that's what makes it so special, but any time we can get to be grown-ups together, away or at home, is rad.

10) Even with that said, and even if it's cheating given the preamble to the list, I can't not mention our little big boy, who will turn 19 months old in a couple of days. Because he is the best thing of best things ever. He is such a loving monkey, free with his cuddles and kisses, and I can't help melting when he says my name, "Mmmumma." He is getting to be so smart, learning so much that I can't even keep up. Part of me wishes I could keep him at this exact stage, but the biggest part of me is so honored, so excited to be able to share in what's to come. I know Mike and I made him and junk, but he's undeniably his own person now and he's the person at the top of my list.

So there you have it. Happy Thanksgiving to all, hoping all of you loves (for whom I am super thankful, every one) are celebrating in the way that means to the most to you! I wanted to end today's entry with a song in honor of Thanksgiving. I chose this one, though it's not strictly a song about the holiday, it's a song about gratitude in its own way. I can't actually listen to it because it makes me bawl uncontrollably, but it's super beautiful and moving.

Sweat is Gonna Fill Your Head

This year I'm most thankful for Frank's Red Hot. Everything else in my life can go eff itself. Not really, durr, I just can't imagine what I'd do without Frank's. It elevates just about everything, I've yet to come across a bland food that can't be rescued by its flavor-y heat. I love sriracha, Tabasco's OK, there are various other hot sauces that get my approval, but for every day excellence, it's Frank's all the way.

If I were smart I'd find a way to get them to advertise on this thing, but I guess it's too late, I already gushed for free. If they want to send me a case though for my trouble, I wouldn't turn it away.

I know I'm weird, but it's not like I'm the first person to compose an ode to a food item.

But I Like You

The wonderful thing about this time of year is that every day for me is, in its own way, a minor holiday, a series of tiny celebrations. The not-so-wonderful thing is how quickly it all passes, and more quickly every damn year. To wit: I had so been looking forward to this past weekend, and it was a true blast with eating and drinking and swimming and an impromptu appearance from the newest newlyweds in my family. But it was over in a flash, and it was like, did it even happen? It did indeed, as did the official passing of another year in my life. Yep, no denying I'm in my late thirties. I'm ok with that too, I don't fear aging or try to fight it in regard to my person, but I can't help but feel like time itself is a treasonous, kidney-punching dickface. I'll wake up, seemingly tomorrow, and realize that everything to which I've been building up with such giddy anticipation will have passed.

All the more reason I guess to give in to the "hey, it's one big party" mentality, to, say, take your lunch hour to buy a couple of new tops and get a gingerbread latte. Just for example. Anyway. It's busy bee time up in this piece and I've got to get back to the hive. Apropos of nothing, here's a song I just really love.

I'm in Love (with the Black Keys) and I Don't Care Who Knows It

Busy day! Thursdays have been especially packed lately, last week I didn't even get around to writing an entry and I'm sure you all noticed and were very sad.

Next week is the greatest of all weeks: Thanksgiving week. And believe you me, you're gonna hear about it plenty from me so I think we should both start conserving our energy. Speaking of energy: everything about this--song as well as video--is so friggin' great.

Handy Hints and Highwaymen

Remember when two martinis was considered pre-gaming before a night out, and not a recipe for conking out on the couch at 10:30? Ah, youth. It was nice knowin' ya. On the upside, having my partying days mostly behind me saves a lot of muh-neh that I can put toward organic milk and the occasional night in a hotel, just because.

My two favorite joyberries and I will be taking a little overnight roadtrip this weekend and I've so been looking forward to just chilling out and bopping around one of our favorite little cities. I got an amazing rate on one of those residence-type hotels that has a separate sleeping and living area (fine, the unheard-of rate was the impetus to book the room in the first place, since we could easily make the hour drive twice in one day). If you have little guys, these are the bomb because you can stay up and observe a dignified adult bedtime and they'll be snoozing just as comfy in the next room with the door closed. That's my number one tip, so far, when it comes to traveling with a baby - try to get a suite whenever possible. Also: Cheerios. Make sure you have Cheerios with you at all times. Trader Joe's O's and generic forms are also acceptable.

And so, in honor of hitting the highway... (I've been waiting for the right time to post this, when really it's always been the right time.)

The Lucky Ones

I just totally ate pumpkin pie. It was the right thing to do. It's no secret that I'm absolutely mad for Thanksgiving, and this little preview got me especially pumped for the holiday. Lucky then that tonight is one of my very favorite nights of the year: the Annual Thanksgiving Pow-wow. Ever since we started hosting TG dinner at our home, Mike and I pick a night during the preceding week to plan the menu and start making shopping lists. Tonight is that night, and it will be done over martinis and crab cakes. I pretty much like my life.

I didn't take part in the "grateful challenge" thing that's going around this month, but know that, even when I don't say it, I'm rather in touch with my inner gratitude. I'm well aware that I've got it super good on just about every count and I feel thankful for it on the regular. But it never hurts to make a point of acknowledging it, and I love that there's a holiday dedicated to the concept. Maybe the intention has come to take a backseat to the food, but not entirely. Most people take the day to appreciate their personal blessings rather than a treating it as just another big meal or as a springboard to Christmas.

Don't get me wrong, I look forward to the food starting the moment my leftovers run out every year, but I just get this feeling that if I'm doing one thing right in my life--I'm doing plenty half-assed, believe me--but if I'm killing it at one tiny aspect of the living business, it's in embracing my family. Of course they tend to make it easy on me, in that I genuinely like the whole lot of them. But if I'm ever going to have regrets, may none of them be in terms of time I could or should have spent with loved ones. So far, so good, so let's keep it up another year.

Muh-neh Changes Everything

As weekends go, this one was rather capital. For starters I had my much-anticipated concert date and it didn't disappoint. Not only was it great to connect with a friend I haven't seen in too long and meet some chill new people, but Fitz and the Tantrums were so, so good. They just put out so much delicious energy. I'd go see them again in a heartbeat. On the whole I'm not a good live music fan because my distaste at being told what to do extends to concerts. It's like, no, I'm probably not gonna put my hands together because you tell me to. I'm just not gonna make some noise. But I have this involuntary dance thing. I can't NOT get down when the music is that good. And I got down, lots. It was a dancing crowd. Happy times for this mama.

The rest of the weekend continued on a similarly great trajectory with a pub lunch and a baby-and-parents playdate and gorgeous weather. We have a new word from the young man and it is: "money." Rather his version of it, "muh-neh." I'm not sure what to make of his awareness of money one way or the other. But it's a word he knows and there we are. Soon they'll be popping up so fast that I most likely won't get to give much attention to each new one as it comes. Pretty awesome times.

The opening act at the show on Friday made a real impression on me. Usually the opener fails to get my attention, but I thought these kids, Walk the Moon, were just swell. Look at that lead singer go to town with that floor tom!

Nothin' But Love

I'll counteract the verbosity of my last few posts with a short, sweet tribute to the Overweight Lover, Heavy D. I'm probably way sadder about his passing than I have any right to be, but from the first time I saw him get down and embrace his big persona on "Yo! MTV Raps", I was a fan. I haven't seen or heard much from him since his turn in The Cider House Rules, but man, what a loss.

Heavy D, gone too soon at 44.

By All Means, Speak Your Mind

Bullets time!

-I usually stay away from the name "Duggar" because it gives me hives. I've never watched their show for the same reason. But a 20th baby? On the heels of that poor little one who by all means shouldn't have survived? Obviously it's wonderful that she did survive, and medical science is awesome but what are these people thinking? They'll have a lot of competition in this category, but I nominate Mr. and Mrs. Duggar for the "Most Selfish American" award. Lifetime achievement, even. I like to give other parents a break and try to check my judgmental tendencies, but there's a limit. Oh, to go back to the time before I ever heard of them and started imagining what J-name they'd take liberties with next. 

-On the heels of what I just said, clearly babies are rad, and I can see why people want to keep having them. Not 20-freakin'-kids understandable, but I wanted to talk about HR's latest cute thing so I needed a segue. He's started putting his hand up to his head and saying "D'oh!", just out of the blue. Not that he's ever seen The Simpsons, but we do have a lot of Homer-related ephemera lurking around the house and it's a big wake-up call about what the little sponge is capable of internalizing.

-I am going to a real music show on Friday! Fitz and the Tantrums at the House of Blues! I'll be exhausted after the first set--I'm so out of live-music shape--but I don't care! I'm so excited to be doing something like this I have to write in all exclamation points!

-I forgot to write about this yesterday, but another thing I really enjoyed was last week's episode of Parks and Recreation. That show trades honors with Community as the consistently best thing on TV, and last week it went ahead one square. I love every character, and last week to me really belonged to Andy and April. Chris Pine is a revelation. And Aubrey Plaza really brought it at the Grand Canyon, that's all I'm going to say. The way that a show can be capable of this range of subtlety and emotion, the quality of the writing and acting, it's inspiring to me that such care is taken for a TV comedy when the creators could get away with so much less. I understand that people are gonna love their 2 1/2 Men and go to their graves defending its pleasures, but to know that there can also be... this. It's sort of frustrating, but I can't be a jerk and say that everything I don't like shouldn't exist, or stand on my stop-rewarding-mediocrity soapbox. I won't even say it's just a show and nothing to even put much thought into, because while 20 minutes of television is nothing in the face of natural disasters and hunger and atrocity, it's important in its own way. I'll keep to my philosophy of avoiding negativity, instead focusing on championing the things I believe deserve attention, and treasuring them as such. In conclusion, Parks and Rec, be my valentine.

-You fortunate dudes don't know the extent of your luck in me not being able to find a clip of Zoe's "Sippy Cup" song from Sesame Street because it's in my head and I wanted to put it up in hopes of exorcising it. I don't mean to wish this ear worm on you if you happen to know the song, but if I did, I apologize and allow me to replace it with my favorite song of the moment:

It's All Such A Laugh

My life is bringing the entertainment these days, mainly in the form of HR. Despite the havoc wrought upon him (therefore all of us) by daylight savings time ending and the continuous fountain of snot he's running due to a maybe cold/maybe teething/maybe both scenario, he's still been really ramping up the delight factor. 18 months is THE BEST. He's capable of making me laugh at 6 a.m. and I don't think I've said that about anyone, ever.

That said, I've also taken in some amusing bits on the telly and whatnot. For one, we finally watched Bridesmaids. The Wiig deserves a special Oscar for perfectly faking the reaction to pounding scotch in the airplane scene, and it's not news anymore that Melissa McCarthy is fearless and amazing in everything she does. But I'm going to come right out and say that this movie did not deliver like I expected it would. I barely laughed out loud. I don't know if it's a case of it collapsing under its own buildup or what, but I was kind of disappointed. I think it's my fault that I wanted it to be the best movie in the world, so I was unfairly over-critical. Maybe I need to watch it again. Or maybe it just is what it is. I liked it, but didn't love it. I think I'm really just tired of the conventional narrative formula that applies to every movie - down up down. Stasis followed by a high, the inevitable crash, the rebuilding. Every story needs conflict, but does it have to be so predictable, the way in which it plays out? Again, not the fault of the movie, it just called my attention to something that's been frustrating me for a long time.

I also watched Jumping the Broom which was a like-not-love for lots of reasons, but I liked it more than I thought it would. There's this one scene where the groom's cousin tells the best man in his gawdawful prepster top, "Shut up! Look at your shirt!" and its delivery was so good-- I can so see myself using that line to make a point. I realize I do sort of love Mike Epps when he's not being a clown. And it was amazing to be reminded that Gary Dourdain is a dude that exists. Remember Skye when we used to watch like 20 CSI episodes a week? How could I have forgotten about Warrick Brown when he was once such a part of my life? Good to see him getting work. It made me cry once, and not even the part where I realize that there's something called "The Cupid Shuffle" and I lived my whole life until now not knowing about it.

And then Charlie Day hosted SNL, which I hardly ever watch, and his Freakasaurus might have been the best non-baby thing I saw all weekend. Basically it made me so thankful that he's spawning.

Unrelated to any of this, this song came up on my shuffle the other morning and it occurs to me that, though it couldn't be more British, it's really the original 99% anthem.

Sometimes, I Rant

I have a love-hate relationship with Shape magazine. Mostly hate. What I love about it is that every time I flip through an issue, it does rekindle my love of running and yoga and whatnot, in a way that has nothing to do with shame or conformity. I can usually find at least one article that inspires me to stay fit for fitness's sake. It reminds me of how I like the way that exercise and eating well make me feel, how I want to be strong, and though I do catch being critical of my body from time to time, it's not in service of an unattainable goal, let's say, looking like someone else. So how can that be bad, right? However, there's so much more to not love, from the undeniable focus on appearance (when the magazine claims to tout health first) to its gross celebrity--more accurately pseudo-celebrity--worship (Wow, the skinny chick from Laguna Beach got skinnier! See how she did it!). I don't want to know how a rich person with dieticians and personal trainers lost weight. Oh right, by hiring dieticians and personal trainers. Plus it just bugs me that the covers are often completely interchangeable. Overall it's a snooze of a read. I can go through an issue in 10 minutes.

So I got my November/December issue yesterday and without fail it delivered the biggest offense they commit, the obligatory "how not to gain weight during the holidays" article. Every. Damn. Year. And there's never anything new, it's always:- shop at the mall, that burns X calories. Take time for yourself. Alternate cocktails with water. Pick the most special treat and focus on that. Make yourself vomit after dinner.

Ah, it's so stupid! And just sets people up to feel even worse about themselves when they fail, once again, to get through the holidays without overindulging. We've all read it, we've all been indoctrinated  with the notion that there are "good" and "bad" foods and that the price of pleasure is always guilt. For women, at least. OK, only women.




My point is that, at the end of the day, Shape is just another manipulative ladeez magazine. There are token shout-outs to overall health, but mostly it's another way to tell women that if they're not a size 2, they should have the decency to want to be, and that appearance is pretty much the only reason for women to take an interest in fitness. It's part of it for me, I won't lie about that, but it doesn't mean I can't be totally insulted by the insinuation.

Obviously if it makes me so miserable I should unsubscribe. The world could do without that much wasted paper from my household, at the very least. However I don't have a record for paying for this  subscription from, well ever.  I have no idea how it's still being delivered to my door every month. I've just been waiting and waiting for the subscription to run out and it never does. Of course I could just... not read it. But I'm weak, and kind of a masochist. I'd just be happier if I didn't have to see it at all. (WHITE WHINE!)

I don't think it behooves you or me to continue with this rant. But I will leave you here with something to ponder, re: advice on navigating once-a-year splurges. If there are restrictions on your indulgences, are they really indulgences at all?  Discuss.

 

Thumbs Up for Family Nap

Way in which I'm probably screwing up my child #554: napping. But I'm OK with it. I'll explain. HR has a spotty history when it comes to napping. There was one really good stretch when he moved down to one nap and would stay out cold for 1 1/2 to 2 hours every afternoon. It was awesome, and so nice to have a consistent pattern on which to rely. Of course this has been a thing of the past for months now. He'll occasionally nap like his napping salad days, but that's not the norm. Instead he'll wake up after 40 minutes and that is not a long enough nap for a child his age, nor his parents. Enter: family nap. We found that if one of us (on those rare days when we're both home, then both of us) takes him to lie down in our bed vs. trying to wrestle him back into the crib, he'll easily go back to sleep for at least an hour. I have a bittersweet relationship with family nap, but frankly sweet has the edge. Because though it's nice to have a chunk of time to be productive or just have some quiet adult time while the little one rests, it's hard to pass up an hour of guaranteed cuddling. Usually I'll make sure I have a book so I can read while he's snuggled up to me, but often I drift off too and that's OK because everyone in our house can use all the sleep we can get. So yeah, it's always a bonus when I'm on baby duty and he keeps his end of the bargain by getting a full nap, but I never get upset when I hear him squawking before the approved time because family nap is kind of the bomb.

I acknowledge he'll probably never nap normally because of this. But in the long run, I'm not sure how much that matters. Realistically he's got maybe two more years of napping left anyway (with this kid probably less) so as long as he can still nail the nighttime sleeping gig (knock wood), I don't see a good reason to change up the nap method.

Ah acceptance, that great mitigator of parenting stress. It's impossible to be a saint at mama-hood, just as it's hard to be a saint in the city. This guy knows what I'm talking about.

What a Heavenly Way

So the weekend! What serious fun. It was, as always, too short of a time. We were in and out of the city within a 24 hour period. But the wedding was a blast, we enjoyed our friends and our grown-up time, we danced, we ate, we drank, we after-partied, we "slept in" until 9 (even though my body clock had me up a couple of times before that). HR did great on his overnight with grandma, and even though we found out that her power went out on Saturday afternoon, I didn't worry about him at all. I was dying to see him by the time Sunday morning rolled around, but I felt we made the most of our freedom.

Oh yeah, there was that matter of the ridiculous early winter storm that made our ride from Connecticut to New York a white-knuckler and certainly made a very memorable day more memorable for the wedding couple. And as I said it knocked out my mother-in-law's electricity, leaving her with, among other things, no heat. But she's used to outages due to her power-loss-prone location and she's resourceful - plus my boy happens to be a champion cuddler. They kept each other warm and entertained, and it was a true gift to his parents. Upon our return home in Boston we found we were lucky enough to have barely been touched by the storm, and it seems that fall has returned, at least temporarily, so most things have been set right (even though MIL's power was STILL out when last we heard).

Regarding Halloween- Mike decided that after everything, he couldn't bear the thought of our boy going costume-less, so he came up with... this:

I think the consensus was washed-up rockstar? Works for me. He was already scrubbed clean by the time I got home last night, but there was a photo-op and that's what counts.

Now it's November, my favorite, FAVORITE month. And though I won't torture you with holiday music until December, it doesn't mean that I'm not-so-secretly listening to it. But aside from that, yesterday my sister-in-law posted "Strangers" by The Kinks and lamented that most people knew about it because of its inclusion in The Darjeeling Limited. I love that movie, and the song, but I understand how you can feel like something that's yours has been tainted somehow when the rest of the world gets their hands on it in a seemingly unpure way. I feel that way about how my favorite Smiths song got corrupted by 500 Days of Summer, a movie I do not love even though I think I will always love Zooey Deschanel despite the fact the she's the poster girl for the latest made-up term I despise, "adorkable." It's not her fault. I realize I already posted "There's a Light That Never Goes Out" in its original form so here's a cover of it that is super.

A Machine's Doing That For You

I'll write about our (mostly) very awesome weekend of wedding fun and weather adventures tomorrow, when I have time to do it justice. For today I'd just like to wish everyone a Happy Halloween even though we're humbugging the shit out of it this year. It just crept up, calendar-wise. Plus nobody we know was having a party, and HR doesn't eat candy yet so trick or treating wouldn't do much for him. This is my roundabout way of saying the second Halloween of HR's life will pass without him wearing a costume, and though I'm missing out on the chance for a even-cuter-than-usual photo op, I don't harbor a drop of mama guilt. I'll be observing on my own terms, while Mike is at work and the boy sleeps, with some decidedly non-scary books and DVR'd shows and a beer. I'll make it a pumpkin beer at least-- I have to make it different from other nights somehow. We've never gotten many trick-or-treaters, which is usually a disappointment, but now I don't need to worry about being the dark-house candy scrooge just beggin' for an eggin'.

In honor of this scariest of nights, here's the spookiest song of all time:

18!

Here's something deserving of a real, written paragraph: baby boy is 18 months old today. That's a year-and-a-half, for those who don't like to do math in their heads. I can hardly believe it. He had a fitful night's sleep last night, and awoke with a runny nose so I guess his little body's celebrating with either a new tooth or a cold - time will tell. But all in all though he's the best. Snuggling and reading together before bed is the highlight of my day. Seeing him smile just kills me every time. Yeah he's still taking his time, verbally, but added a new word, "another," pronounced "an-nud-DURR." Not sure what he thinks it means, but it makes me smile every time I hear it come out of his mouth. This weekend he's being left with grandma for a full 24 hours while we go to a wedding in Manhattan. This is only the second time I've spent a night away from him and even though I'm looking forward to the prospect of a full night's sleep, I am a little nervous. I'm sure he and grandma will do wonderfully, but you know how it is with your babies, even grown-up 18-month-olds. Anyway, that's the big doings round our house. Those 18 months sure flew, they brought so much with them. I can't even imagine the crazy joy awaiting us.

Everything else gets a bullet:

-Mike managed to locate and procure a pint of Ben & Jerry's Schweddy Balls ice cream. Verdict: awesome. It's worth seeking out.

-Last night I watched Battle Royale which I've been meaning to see for ages and it was a blast. For a violent, gritty, distopian film, it had a lot of heart and all the kids were so, so cute. I enjoyed it on its own merits, but it also really whet my appetite for The Hunger Games films, which I've decided to think of as more of an homage an less of a rip-off. I recommend it especially for HG fans who haven't already seen it.

-Back when I was writing my hair critique, I forgot to mention the biggest current offender: Laura Dern in Enlightened. Cut those bangs, girl! If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people with hair constantly in their eyes. How can they function like that? Get off my lawn! But seriously, the show's growing on me - last week's final scene made me bawl. Just cut the bangs and I'll be even more of a fan.

-I really am looking forward to our whirlwind trip to New York, getting dolled up, dancing and partying with good friends and getting the night off from being parents. Mike and I will do our best to not let our good time be spoiled with senseless worrying. I think alcohol will come in quite handy, there.

Life - she's-a pretty decent. And I'm choosing to close out my week's musical theme on this note. Jennifer Holliday, my word.

Too Old to Just Break Free and Run?

I'm lucky in a billion and ten ways, but one of my special blessings is genetics. I'm not talking about the cute genes (though a quick look at my family photo album on either side would attest to that), but about longevity and health. I never met my paternal grandfather, he died when my dad was a teenager, and the other one I was privileged to have in my life until three years ago before he passed away due to Alzheimer's. Other than that--though of course we have had some devastating losses in the immediate and extended family--I, in my mid-to-late 30s can make the remarkable claim of having two grandmothers. And unbelievably robust grandmothers they are, let me tell you. Plus a lot of great-aunts and uncles who are mainly 80 and older, with a fair handful being in their 90s. I'm thinking of this because I saw a picture from a surprise 90th for my great-aunt--my maternal grandmother's sister--that took place this past weekend and two of her even older sisters were in attendance. They all look amazing for any age, and for the most part their health has been consistently great. My paternal grandmother, who will turn 90 this March, just as she is scheduled to become a great-great grandmother, takes one baby aspirin per day at last count, and that was it.

So what I'm getting at, I guess, is that as long as I continue to look both ways when I cross the street and eat the minimum of leafy greens, I have a fairly good shot of being a proper old broad. Nothing's guaranteed, obviously. But it's cool to have empirical data on my side. Not that I want to live forever or even until 100, but I have a lot I want to do still in life and it's a true comfort to have the conceptual luxury of time being on my side, as much as it is for anyone. Of course to a lifelong procrastinator (also genetic, on one side) this is a dangerous concept to have in-pocket, but if it's delicious enough of a thing I can usually go against that nature and do what I want to do as soon as possible. Like go to Mexico next year. And take breakdancing lessons as soon as time and finances allow. And yes, be a writer. But most importantly spend time with and cherish the people I have in my life, the 90 + ones, and the wee squishy ones, because I bear witness every day to how there are no guarantees.

I guess this is ending a positive entry on a maudlin note, but really I want to celebrate one example of a life cut short. There are so many Jeff Buckley performances that go beyond beyond (it's practically cheating to add him to this category) but his voice was from a different planet and this is my favorite example of how pain can translate beauty and how a brilliant vocal can transport the listener.

Sooo Not Proud

I've been watching a lot of TV lately, judge away I don't care. The point I want to make in relation to that is that I realize I'm very opinionated about hairstyles. I don't have great hair myself, I mean it's OK and I'm glad I have it at all, but I am not exactly an exemplary headsuit-wearer. I dust off my hairdryer approximately twice a year. Still I feel qualified to get involved with the follicles of fictional characters and the actors responsible for growing them.

To wit, on Dexter: Deb Morgan, you are awesome, I love you and I love your new professional wardrobe now that you've been promoted but for the love of GAHD you've got to cut that hair. It's pretty and shiny and all, but you could stand to lose a foot of it, at least. Nobody needs hair that long, particularly not grown women (this is one of my own stubborn biases) and in practical terms, in your line of work it's actually a liability. You could get it caught in the trees while chasing a perp! One false move and you're scalped, you know?

Gossip Girl: This show has gotten turrible this season, and if you don't watch it you probably guessed it was turrible all along. I used to get a kick out of its ludicrous plotlines because I thought the overall writing was pretty sharp. Now it turns out the only reason I still watch is so I can see if Dan ever gets rid of the animal that died on his head. You're walking a fine line of attractiveness to begin with lonelyboy, don't think that bringing back the male perm look is doing you any favors. For all I know it's intentional that he's looking so rough, since he's on a downward spiral of likability, but more likely it's an experiment gone wrong. Lily - you're kind of a bad person but I love you nonetheless and your hair, as always, is perfect. If I had your money, I'd have your stylist.

When anyone inquires about the progress of my novel, do you think I can just point them to this entry and they'll understand why it's not getting done? I'm not proud, really I'm not.

So I find I'm missing yoga again. I know I am capable of getting my practice back, particularly now that my wrist is better, it's just a matter of doing it. You'll know if and when I do because I tend to not be able to stop babbling about it when I find my groove.

Today's auracular spectacular: U2's "Red Hill Mining Town." Full disclosure: I'm not a U2 fan, I like some of their songs, but eh. I feel like this performance is just really out-of-the-park. I heard on the radio that this was supposed to be the second single from the J-Tree but they scrubbed it, publicity wise, because Bono couldn't consistently hit the notes and they decided it wouldn't be worth it to bring it on tour. So there you go, if that's true.

By Which I Mean TOTALLY

Ah, fall in New England. This past weekend was the first one where the nip in the air could really be felt, and I swooned as I chose a sweater before leaving the house. Not that we went leaf peeping or pumpkin picking or cider tasting or anything, we didn't even check out the regatta on the Charles, but we did get outside a lot, to the park and such. Mike roasted a chicken (such a lovely thing in chilly weather) and we went to swimming lessons and had an out-of-town visitor and now suddenly it's Monday, as that tends to happen. I'm anticipating a chill but productive week. We'll see it that comes true in any way.

In my mind there's a category of music that I call "impressive vocal performances." They're just that: some kind of vocal that impresses me in a particular way. This one I like so much because, though I know Boz Skaggs wrote the song, I grew up with the still nice but unremarkable-to-me Rita Coolidge version. It takes on a whole new interesting life, to me, with the male vocal.



What? I'm old. I totally embrace it. So much so that it doesn't bother me AT ALL that someone Mike knows told him that The Velvet Goldmine was her favorite movie when she was, "like, 12." AT ALL.

Buddy Report

My favorite thing these days is observing HR while he plays independently. The fact that he plays by himself at all for a sustained amount of time is relatively new, and I find myself sort of holding my breath as I watch him, not wanting to disturb him by reminding him of my presence. He's been really into gathering up all his little people and cars and putting them on a table, then arranging and rearranging them and putting them on the floor, then back up. Sometimes he just knocks them all to the ground. I realize it doesn't sound very entertaining but watching him use his imagination--to know that something is going on inside that little brain that is not transparent to me--is amazing. He is becoming a real person, so fast, right before my eyes. He's still a boy of few words (the latest is "magnet" which brings us up to five, maybe six in his repertoire?) but he understands commands and requests, and he can point to any thing or person when asked. Today he apparently pointed to the phone repeatedly and said "Dada" until Mike surmised he was asking for me. So they called me at work and he got on and said "Mama."

Obviously I'm not saying I have a wee genius here, just that my baby is leaping into little-boy-hood and I thought I was ready for that but it is going a bit too quickly for my taste. In some ways of course he's still very much a baby, and quite the mama's boy at that, but I'm finding I'm not so anxious as I used to be regarding what he should be doing and when. He's my baby, he's going to be how he's going to be, and of course he needs our guidance and discipline and Mike and I are doing our best to do what we think is best and important, but I just feel OK about it all in a way I certainly did not a year ago. Above all I want him to be secure in the knowledge that he's loved, and at this point it wouldn't occur to him to think otherwise, so I guess we're doing our jobs. Through it all, this little life is my privilege to witness and have a hand in shaping. Just in case you were wondering.

The F-Word

You may have noticed that I'm going through a decidedly un-writerly phase. These are the times when it's most important to buckle down and force the writing, of course, but it's the least fun. Any successful author will tell you that this is 99% of the deal when it comes to writing, it's what I knowingly signed up for the second I identified as a writer. So I won't complain about having the blahs today, or deflect with links and space-fillers. Instead I'll blather on until I feel I've warmed up my creative muscles. I'm not saying it's going to be pretty or any good, just that I'm going to keep going until... something.

I've been reading a lot lately, which is great. I'm most of the way through Jean Thompson's The Year We Left Home which is excellent, and I just started Aimee Bender's The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake as well. I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes. Before that I finished off yet another Elizabeth Berg, her newest called Once Upon A Time There Was You. I went through my usual push-pull with it, but I mostly enjoyed it. Not for nothing: the book's publication date is 2011, who knows how long ago it was actually written, but there's a part in the story where she actually uses the phrase "joy berries." I'm not crying plagiarism, especially since I think five people read this and they're all my relatives, but it's a mighty interesting coincidence.

My real point though is that in their own way, each of the books I've chosen recently is about family. I always marvel about how unique the treatment of family is with each author, even from book to book in their respective catalogs. It amazes me in real life as well as fiction how the concept of what constitutes family is ever fluid. The word seems inadequate as a catch-all, it can mean so many things. There are so many ways to be someone's family. I know about mine, (the one I grew up with, and the one I married into, and the one I've made of friends, the one I've made with my husband and son, and the way all the different ones overlap and bleed into each other) and I think my experience has colored how I create families when I write about them (close, loving, reasonably exasperating but always in a positive light), but it doesn't necessarily mean the family in my novel represents my own. So it's unfair of me to assume that the other authors came from families like the ones they write about, even though I sometimes do. And then I get to thinking, are all stories about family in one way or another? Probably not, but I guess I just seek them out or am drawn to them above all others.

Now the word "family" just looks and sounds funny to me, I've used it so much. So I'm going to stop. But I'll just keep thinking about it, I suppose. I'm always thinking about it.

I don't much care for "children's music." But this is an exception.

Glorious Cop-Out

I've got a belly full of Thai food and too much to do so for today, here are some randomly remembered credits to some shows I have loved across the ages.

And As Promised - Bowtie Baby

I say this every time, but every time it remains true: I'm useless when it comes to writing about the good times in life. I can't wrap my brain around these happy events and frame them in a way that translates into something that might interest a person who wasn't there. Time and reflection might help in this respect, I could probably look back on some joyful events of my past and make a nice blog entry about it but the fact is my brother's wedding just happened and it's still so excitingly fresh in my brain that I want to write about it so I'll co-opt other media to tell the story. Pictures and music, where would I be without you?

Here's the happy couple on their recessional walk. 

Professor HR decked out in his best nerd-chic finery, getting some love from his grandfather.

When the boy wasn't chowing down on cupcakes, he could be found on the dance floor with his new girlfriends. Sorry Mike, all signs point to this kid being a Perry to the core.

As a nod to the obsessions of our childhood, the reception couldn't go by without a Pee Wee Herman dance to "Tequila."

Did I mention there was dancing?

What a family, I mean, who enjoys each other's company this much? We're not rich, we're not industrious, but we will have a legacy and that is LOVE and FUN. We're like the Rockefellers of celebration. I marvel at the luck of my birthright every day.

All in all, the day was beautiful, the bride was beautiful, the groom was beautiful. It was a great party, a wonderful time and just day one of what I hope will be a long and love-filled marriage. Congratulations Nick and Whitney, I love you.

I have no explanation as to why, but based on the last two weddings, here's one that always packs the dance floor.

Lunatic Fringe May Be a More Fitting Choice

SERIOUSLY. The continual full moon at work needs to just get to waning already. As of yesterday I've moved beyond whatever was making me sad and into a straight plea to the universe for the increasingly bizarre madness to dissipate before we all lose it. We've had some times here, oh children, but this week takes the cake. That's a lot of mental stress packed into three days. Lucky for me I am off tomorrow to begin the second stellar wedding weekend of '11. And I've got an all-important mani/pedi appointment in a couple of hours, if I can just make it until then. I'm holding out hope for me as well as my coworkers that we've seen the worst of it, but I know better than to rely on that idea.

I will now attempt to shift my focus to how excited I am to get up to Maine tomorrow and get the festivities started.



Better, or at least happier, entries next week. You may even get a glimpse of HR wearing a bow tie, stay tuned.

Circle Game

These are some bittersweet times. I have so, so much for which to be grateful and to enjoy. My little brother is getting married this weekend and he and his fiancee will be joined in matrimony and I'll get to see pretty much my whole family and it'll  be an all-out Perry-style dance party, which is about my favorite thing on earth. HR is not only thriving but he's getting to be such a personality. He's a lot more of a different kind of work as he gets older and his mischief quotient goes up, but he's so much fun and so happy and loving, I'm truly digging this stage. I got to hold a one-day-old baby this weekend and though the baby fever spiked like crazy--I was suddenly so nostalgic for the wee diapers and receiving blankets and nursing and teeny tiny toes--I remembered all the decidedly non-magic parts of having a newborn and felt pretty good about where we are right now. The idea of getting another shot at labor and of trying the infant thing again when I would halfway know what I'm doing and would be therefore less stressed is tempting, but not so tempting that I want to shake up what's really, really wonderful right now. What I'm saying that personally, it's all about as good as can be and as always I feel incredibly lucky.

Then there are some really painful things going on that don't involve me directly but are affecting some people I love dearly and my heart goes out to them. And work, the job itself is just fine, but we have some kids who are having a really rough go and it's impossible not to grieve for them and their families. It's enough to make me feel guilty about the relative ease and happiness of my little life, but I know that's useless. I'll get my turn on the wheel, I have before, it's just the way it is. Just be thankful, just be mindful, just be. It doesn't help any of the bad go away, it can't ward off any unknown future hurt and sadness, but it's a way to process it.

My pick today represents the kind of explosive joy and catharsis that helps me in the down times. It might not be for everyone, but boy howdy it's for me.

Thirteens Across the Board

I have a wicked, wicked lot to write about today and wicked, wicked little time in which to do it so I'm focusing on one thing and it's this: Happy 13th (!!!) anniversary to my pal, my best friend, my partner-in-crime-and-baby-rearing and the greatest guy I ever met. Marrying you was one of the top two decisions I've made in my life, and in my advanced years, that encompasses a LOT of decisions.

Love you, Mikey.

It is So Choice

This is my favorite kind of morning, the kind when you need a sweater and hot coffee is just *the* thing, cup after cup. The only thing that could have added to my bliss would be more time to snuggle up to my boys. Maybe tomorrow.

Date night was a huge success, we got to sit out in the patio and because it was a nippy evening we were nearly the only people out there, happily chowing down between the breeze and the heat lamps. It felt like we were miles from the city, talking and enjoying some seriously great food. Yes, I got the baked alaska. No, I did not get a picture because it got in my belly too fast.

Today is my last day in the office until Tuesday and the long weekend before me is a stretch of promise, a tease of unclaimed time waiting to be filled. Here's hoping we do it justice.

As for today's selection, some of you may know that I have a wee obsession with Steely Dan, and I only recently realized that Michael McDonald jammed with them on occasion. This revelation could be a dealbreaker for some people who not only think that Steely Dan is lame, but that M McD is even lamer. To those people I say, YOU are lame. This musical partnering is sheer bloody brilliance. For me, Bad Sneakers is the golden apple of their combined labor, but youtube let me down in this regard. So here's Do It Again, which is OK for a stand-in, but do seek out the album version of Bad Sneakers if you get a chance.

Without Love, It Ain't Much

I'm very excited because tonight is a long-awaited date night and we got a babysitter and everything. Mike got a very generous gift certificate to a neighborhood place we love (but are unable to frequent due to us not being millionaires) so we decided to just use the thing already before the romantical patio closes for the season, and we're so fixing to get down with some crazy good food and drink and adult conversation. I mean we'll probably talk about farts like always, but we won't be doing it amid doling out cheerios so that makes it adult. Plus there are no nachos on the menu and I'm planning to put on jewelry and mascara so you know this is not our typical date. Depending on how much room I leave, there could also be a baked alaska involved! Actually I don't care if there's room or not - how many baked alaskas come into your life in this day and age? It's not like it's the 1950s. I'll be sure to take a picture.

In all actuality, I'm really just looking forward to having an unbroken amount of time to spend with Mike, where he doesn't have to be doing any kind of work. Because of the choices we made to run our little family the way we do, these times are so few and far between. It's been worth it, absolutely. But Dada really deserves a break and a little decadence, and I'm happy to be along for the ride.



As an aside, never forget that Sheila E is the bomb bomb bomb.

Hooray! For...

I'm compiling a little hooray list, and so far I've got:

-Workdays like this one that fly by because they are filled with the best kind of work (writing original content, in this case).

-Getting apples in our farm share tomorrow! Truth, I sort of hate apples, but this time of year I always revisit that stance.

-Dexter starting up again. This is the first season I've watched in real time, and the suspense of waiting a week really adds to the appeal.

-My baby boy feeling better, thus sleeping better, and getting to spend the day hanging out with Dada and his favorite stuffed pals. It took us awhile to find a toy to which he made a true attachment, but I think we've found him.

So hooray for Bert and Ernie! (Ernie not pictured, except for his shoes.)

And of course, hooray for Peter Pumpkinhead.

Not-So-Secret October

October, you're the best. So happy you're here again! Bring on the mums on the doorstep and tea and blankets on chilly chilly nights, I'm more than ready. Not to mention the mellowcreme pumpkins and pumpkin beers and pumpkin pie and assorted gourd themed loveliness specific to the orangey-brown months.

Our weekend was rather packed, with the celebration of Rosh Hashanah and HR's first trip to the pumpkin patch with aunt, grandma and big cousins, then a Saturday full of swimming lessons and a first birthday party for a special baby friend. I'm not surprised, following it all, that HR was under the weather yesterday. We spent a not-so-fun night last night soothing our feverish boy, but he seems to be doing lots better in the light of day. I'm faring amazingly well for running on so few hours' sleep and worry fatigue... obviously the the crash is imminent so I'd better keep in making hay.

But like I said, it's October, time to hunker down and sweater up and let your musical selections take a decidedly melodic turn.

Apple Honey Happiness

Oh, the Red Sox. I am very disappointed. But I'm not into dwelling or negativity so I'll leave it at that.

It's Rosh Hashana and I'll be taking off early to celebrate with my 1 1/2 Jews and some of Mike's family. It's no secret I'm a big fan of this holiday - it's like extra Thanksgiving (which is my favorite, favorite of all). I'm looking forward to reflecting on what was another altogether good year and eating some delicious foodstuffs. 

Here's some of The Sweet for a good, sweet New Year.

Get Lowe

I don't have much to say today, so here's Nick Lowe to say some things in my stead. In case you didn't know this, he's super great. But I'm sure you already knew.

Face Value

I want to rant about something but I'll have to start by writing a spoiler about Gossip Girl (for the person besides me who still watches it): so Blair is pregnant. I don't care about that storyline really, I know it's just to keep her linked to Chuck forever and ever. The part that irked me is that, when she was getting her wedding dress fitted the seamstress blew up her spot because she had gotten her measurements, but she noticed they had changed. That in and of itself isn't unrealistic (like I watch this show for its realism in the first place) but they lost me when she said, "let me guess, you're about six weeks along?" Bull. Shit. Many people, particularly those who aren't trying to get pregnant, don't even find out they're pregnant until after the fetus is considered six weeks. And if you start counting fetus weeks from the date of the start of your last menstrual period as anyone who has ever been pregnant does, it's actually been growing for closer to four weeks. Which is a baby blob roughly the size of a freckle. The point is, there's no way Blair has started packing on any weight.  It just reminded me that Hollywood thinks people are stupid, and that, truly, we are. Because if I'd never gotten pregnant, I'd never have realized that there's this myth of pregnancy that exists out there in the cultural ether.

The truth is, you don't start showing for months and months, especially in a first pregnancy. Hormonal fluctuations and cravings are greatly exaggerated, and the number of women whose water breaks spontaneously, let alone breaks before there is a single contraction, is extremely small. But as far as I knew, the movies and TV knew what they were talking about. There's no such thing as subtleties when it comes to the portrayal of one human gestating another. I know, I know, subtlety is not physical comedy's best friend, it's not the point. It's just amazing to me how in the dark I was about this aspect of owning a woman's body until it came my turn to put it to use (at a rather seasoned age, I might add) and people who never have or want kids will never know the truth about this. I don't know why that bothers me, but it does. A recent re-watch of Look Who's Talking actually prompted me to start writing a dissertation on all the ways it was messed up before I decided I needed to back away from that ledge.

I'm all for escapism, but it does make me wonder what other parts of life that get re-invented or glossed over by the fantasy machine. Like, do koalas exist? Come on, have YOU ever seen one? Even documentaries have to employ a certain amount of manipulation and truth-massaging in order to be compelling. But eh, when it comes down to it, maybe I don't really want to know. I do, but I don't. But I do.

Here's the amazing T-Rex, which is a thing I believe really happened in the 1970s and I'm just sad I didn't get to be a part of it.