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.

Saccharine Susie

My work event was yesterday, and I had a little helper.

That cup from which he is imbibing contains water - we're still bookending the day with a bottle of milk, then water the rest of the time because that's all he'll drink. I've decided to try the cold turkey cup-only method sometime next week because the Farmer's Almanac says it's the best time to wean. I'll let you know if it works, I mean, who am I to doubt the wisdom of farmers? But I'm still not going to worry about it if it doesn't pan out. Just giving the progress report (or lack thereof).

Anyway, I had to be here on a Sunday and Mike had to go to his own job, so my boy helped me out by being my date and taking a nice nap while we did prep work and being extra charming with the guests at the party, as long as I was holding up my end and letting him eat constantly. Three-inch heels were probably not my best decision as he requires a lot of chasing these days, but it turned out to be a hell of a leg workout. I'm glad the event's over because, though I've proved to be pretty good at planning, it's not my most favorite thing. Plus something about working on weekends doubly wears me out.

Wah wah wah life's hard. Things are really really great, actually. The Sox showed some much-needed sack in the second game of yesterday's double header, and the Bills beat the Pats which happens once a decade I think (disclosure: I could give a flip about football but I'm related to a bunch of rabid Buffalo fans so I'm happy for them). We're heading into my favorite time of year and I've got a couple of lovely weddings to look forward to and the birth of a friend's baby and while I guess I could bitch about technical fall being here while weather-fall is nowhere in sight, instead I'll be Pollyanna again and express my gladness about not having to use the heat yet.

Swings

Sooo... the Red Sox. Do you really want me to talk about the Red Sox? Of course you don't. Even the most die-hard fans need a little break right now. I just have two things to say and I'll be done with it:

1) I know they've been playing horribly, but there was no excuse for fans to boo the team off their own field last night. At the last home game of the year and all. I'm frustrated too guys but come on, how classless! It made me really sad. In my opinion, there's no excuse for that kind of behavior, ever, from people who represent as a team's supporters. I just really hope we can rectify this in the post-season and get that nasty taste out of all our mouths.

2) Oh yeah, the post-season. They still have a shot at the playoffs, so I have faith that they'll start winning again tomorrow and tie up that wild card position. And then, you know, keep winning. It seems like a long shot, but you can do this, dudes.

Polly-Fucking-Anna till the end, that's me.

Quick poll time: how much do you love INXS? A lot, or a LOT lot? Also, what is your favorite of their songs? Dearly departed Michael Hutchence and his compatriots are very important to my work-in-progress so much so that the working title is one of their song titles (not the one below). But they are also one of my all-time favorite bands and if for some reason you think that Kick is the only thing they did, get thee hence and educate yourself.

Gothball?

Thank you all who came to my neurotic rescue re: yesterday's entry. I did not intend to go fishing for reassurance, but I'm appreciative of the catch I reeled in anyway. It takes a village, indeed.

Today's to-do: work stuff, some writing, physical therapy for the annoyingly lingering condition, and feeling pretty good about life in general.

It will spoil nothing to tell you that today's chosen song appears in a pivotal and extremely dorky scene in my book. It also served as the backdrop of Game 1 of the 2004 World Series, and this may or may not have been because I watched it at the dearly departed ManRay-- only one person besides me can tell you for sure.

Mama Drama

Sorry to pop in and leave such a negative post yesterday. It's not my style to take out my frustrations in such a non-constructive and boring way but, yeah, I was frustrated. Non-responsiveness is a giant peeve for me, it seems so needlessly rude. But I've said my piece about that and I won't say any more.

Also unlike me: I had a small mental crisis this weekend when I came to the realization that, out of the many people we know who have had babies in the past year or two, we got the most difficult one. Not that every baby doesn't present his own challenge, and I don't know what it's like to be in anyone's everyday existence, but it seemed to me like everyone got these easygoing babies who just did everything they were supposed to. Our baby is amazing and wonderful and smart and fun and funny and loving, but I would never classify him as easy. Especially when you compare notes on riding in cars and sleeping and such. That should have tipped me off that I was barking up the wrong mental tree to begin with: don't ever compare. But I did. And I felt, like, why can't we ever get him to do one thing without a struggle? After my approximate five minutes of self pity, I checked my delusions at the door, and if you overlook all his most awesome qualities: he's healthy. Bottom line. I can never take that for granted, particularly in my line of work where I'm confronted with the alternative every single day.

Then I thought, even if it's true that he's the most... whatever compared to other babies, who even cares? Who said he was supposed to be easy? He's on his own timeline for things, and I have to give us all a break considering he's only been breathing on his own for shy of 17 months. What's the point of any kind of fretting about what I can't control? I can't change him, and I don't actually want to (OK if a genie popped up I'd ask for consistent 12 hours of sleep per night, but I can't even really complain about the sleeping any more). So it was a dumb parental breakdown, but it's over. I can't help feeling almost embarrassed about it, so maybe that's why I'm writing about it. As a way to chastise myself, and to remember, if I ever make the mistake of feeling that way again. For all the little curveballs we're thrown on a daily basis, they're all just part of him being a baby. It's not personal. I'm looking at his picture right now and all I can think is, "what WAS I on about?" I can't imagine my life without my sweet butterball who fills up my heart like nobody else. So other babies have been sleeping through the night since day one or voluntarily gave up their bottles on their first birthday or whatever (I exaggerate). Each parent can point out a way that their baby falls short of ideal for them. The most rational part of my brain knows that no baby is perfect. But our baby is perfect for us. That should be my focus. Honestly, self!

At the end of yesterday's turd I passed off as an entry I mentioned that there was a theme to the music this week and here it is: songs that either appear in or have in some way inspired the novel I've been working on. I won't say how or why I chose them, just, that's the connection.

Initial Post

Obnoxious PSA (because now that I'm a mother I think I have to be everyone's mother): if you do nothing else today, if you have an outstanding RSVP floating around for anything at all, REPONDEZ, S'IL VOUS PLAIT already. Honestly. You know whether or not you can go to the thing within a day of receiving the invitation, usually, and it takes one second of your life to send your reply. 9 times out of ten it won't even cost you a stamp. And you are seriously affecting someone's life. Just be nice, just be courteous, it really makes a difference.

I can't for the life of me figure out why people don't just do it. It's the easiest thing. Yes, I'm frustrated about the response rate for a work event, but this is just in general.

Back to your regularly scheduled Monday. Here's a song that's starting up a theme for the week. I'll explain tomorrow, when I'm less annoyed.

Yes, That's Totally a Dude Singing

Meetings out the wazoo! My job isn't typically so meeting-y, so these types of days take their toll. It's good to change it up, though. Keeps things interesting. I will reward my busy bee-ness tonight with the season premiere of It's Always Sunny and a tipple or two from my mama-sized juicebox (I want so badly to link the clip of juice-deprived Buster Bluth discovering Lucille's wine stash but youtube is failing me). I would likely reward myself with these things no matter what kind of day I had, but it's nice to think that it will feel really earned tonight. And yes you read that correctly, I do occasionally drink my wine from a box now. I have my reasons.

This weekend is supposed to feel like fall and I am thrilled. Bring on the flannel and fleece! Bring on the apple-and-pumpkin air! It won't last, and then winter will come all too soon, but I'm ready for a taste now. Conversely, here's an extremely summery song I never got around to linking in the thick of it. It reminds me of hanging out in my Memere's tidy trailer listening to my aunt and uncle's 45s all afternoon long. Aunt Patti was the coolest person I could imagine back then, and frankly probably still is.

I Really Miss Brian Kinney

I've finally gotten around to reading A Confederacy of Dunces and it's cracking me up probably way more than it should. Not sure how I'll feel about the whole thing when the book is over, but I can't get enough of the author's ear for language. I could read the dialogue between Irene and Santa forever. "Potatis salad" - just the sound of that makes me laugh. I love that it's set in New Orleans, too. Even though I've never been to the place, I've always felt a connection to it, like it's where I belong with the food and the music and the excess and such. OK so it's in the South and I was born with that Northeast superiority complex, so it's unlikely I'd live there, but I'd still very much like to visit. Someday, someday.

Yesterday my men went to the New England Aquarium, it was HR's first trip and apparently he was enraptured the whole time. It also wore him out enough to take a 3-hour nap when they got home. Note to self: take the baby to the aquarium. As much as possible.

Oh, and congratulations to Timmy Wakefield on his 200th win last night! Maybe now the Red Sox will regain that swagger they desperately need right now to kick butt in the playoffs.

Once again this song has nothing to do with anything except I heard it recently and marveled at what a great song it is. The trouble is that it always makes me think of the stunning Queer as Folk prom episode, but you know, any Brian Kinney on the brain is better than none.

Of An Era

Today I decided to put my other blog on hiatus. I have mixed feelings about it, because that was the blog I started in graduate school and I feel like I poured my best, academic self in there, as well as made some amazing connections. I'm as passionate about its mission as I was the day I started it (if you don't know about my true raison d'etre it's all in the PAQ section), but I'm just not updating it with the gusto of my past years and I think its time has come. Like I say in the last entry, I'm not shutting it down or closing the door forever, just being realistic about what I feel it deserves and what I'm not giving it. So I'm walking away, possibly for good, but hopefully not.

My sincere intention is to live out avengingsybil's purpose by putting the fiction I have always dreamed of writing out into the world. Which could mean that the writing here will suffer even more, but more likely I'll continue to use it as a space to touch base and blow off steam. And share little gems like this'un:



Howard Jones 4-EVA!

Many Years Since I Was Here, On the Street

I'm in a startlingly good mood this morning. It's a beautiful day, we are all here, my baby has been sleeping like the sleep champ of slumber county (for him, anyway) and I've got all these endorphins left over from my run. Plus it was a great weekend full of authentic greek food and playground visits and Pumking on tap the True Blood finale (whoa!) and I'm psyched because we landed the last coveted spot in Saturday morning Waterbabies class. I guess I'm one of those people now who has found this hidden competitive side when it comes to my kid? Not really, it just seems like a great class for HR because he will be in a session with a bunch of little buddies he already knows. Being that he's with adults most of the time, any chance he has to socialize with his contemporaries is so good for him, for all of us.

Il Divo is still giving us a pain with the bottle-to-cup switchover (we've tried every type of sippy, even just going open cup, and no dice) but he'll get it eventually. You think I'd be stressed about this, but the  more time I've had to get used to this parenting gig, the less high strung I've become overall, and this seems like one of those small potatoes kind of worries. I've decided to just let go on this point. One year, two year, it all goes by so fast what's the difference? He still gets two bottles a day, which he will stop getting someday, but I'm disinclined to take something away from him that's so comforting and part of his sleeping and waking up ritual. I know there's the whole issue about jacking up his teeth and whatnot, but we brush teeth after the bottle and half of his parentage guarantees a whole lotta orthodontia in his future anyway, so whatever. I don't even feel defensive about it, it just is what it is.

I heard this on my run this morning and it reminds me that though I am a very shy and somewhat reserved person there's all this STRUT that lives inside me (and it does come out from time to time, sometimes without the aid of alcohol, even), and this song is a type of musical manifestation of that STRUT. I probably already linked it in here because I love it so much, but because I love it so much, I don't care.

Swimming Toward Pie

Today has been a marvel of productivity for me, so I'm taking a few to be slack-jawed and useless. Ahh, that's nice. Tomorrow I go to the dentist for a long-awaited cleaning, my first check-up since last winter's unending suck convention that began as the Great Crown Debacle and resulted in a root canal. I had never really minded going to the dentist before all that, but the experience ruined me and almost totally destroyed my holiday season. Still I'm not really nervous. I'm relieved to be starting over with someone new. I just hope she's impressed with my lifelong enthusiasm for flossing. Yeah, that teacher's pet impulse dies hard.

You know who's really funny? Patton Oswalt. He's been on my radar for awhile as an actor, but I never watched his stand-up until we randomly caught part of a special on cable the other night and Mike and I were both laughing like crazy. His Weight Watchers spiel alone is worth the price of admission. Gold star, Patton: I like you.

Additionally: library books. Remember those? I've been reliant on my Kindle for so long that I found I was missing the charm of a fresh stack of papery goodness, covers all soft and corners worn point-less by stranger after stranger's hands, waiting for my contribution to their unavoidable but dignified disintegration. I'm on an Elizabeth Berg kick, if you must know. It'll pass. I hadn't realized how many books she's written, so I'm catching up even though I'm always struck by how corny I find her plots and descriptions, how stubbornly old fashioned pretty much everything about her books can be. It's like they're set in modern times for the most part but the characters didn't get the memo about that, I'm always distracted by this and compromises my ability to relate. Yet I eat her books up like sugar cookies. They are so comforting with all their domestic details. I'm not really as much of a snob as I sound. As a writer I could do a lot worse than to emulate her career- that woman is prolific, and how, while here I am still plugging away at my novel at negative glacial speed. I AM plugging, though, so I'll pretend that counts for something.

This song selection has nothing to do with anything except that I love it and I thought you should know.

Why to Have Kids

We are now approaching maximum cuteness time in our life avec toddler. He's long demonstrated his ability to imitate an elephant, but he's really into it right now, throwing his arm up and squealing at random intervals, and it never seems to get old. He's masterful at serving pretend coffee to us, and will even take a fake sip himself, complete with a satisfied "mmmm." Despite his few words he's working super hard to communicate, and gets hilariously flummoxed when we don't understand his emphatic "AHHHs" and "DAAAHs." He's also gotten quite opinionated about the songs I sing to him and woe if I start belting out the wrong one - right now the only acceptable option is the one about floating down the Delaware chewing on his  underwear (Note to family members: is this a real song  or did we make that one up?). Most recently he was standing up in the tub and, as it's a known fact that baby bums are irresistible, I was absently patting his little behind like I always do. I went to do something else and noticed him smacking his own booty, like he just noticed it was there.

I should probably start posting video clips. And before that, recording video clips.

Apropos of nothing, this is a really great song for running up hills.

Septembery

How fitting for the first day back after Labor Day: rainy, chilly, bananas like a crate of ape fruit (thank you Lil Jon for that evocative turn of phrase) on the work front. Otherwise, things are good. We passed a very chill couple of days. My parents came for a little visit. HR remembered how to go to sleep and stay that way, mostly, and I hope that my writing that in here doesn't serve as a jinx.We vastly overestimated the amount of Mexican food to carry out and I think I'll be eating tamales until Thanksgiving.

I also got a really, really good hair cut. That's noteworthy for me. It's not like my hair is especially  difficult but I have zero patience for self-maintenance so I need a cut that's wash and wear, and it's hard to find a stylist that can do this for me at all, let alone consistently. I think I found the one. I'm in that fall nesting phase where I look at everything that needs to be done and just knocking it all out. That pesky tendonitis problem that was nagging at me? Being treated. Overdue haircut? Done. New dentist found and appointments made? Done. I have to seize these productive moods when they strike me. It's just how I work. For example, I saw a link to this company that makes a bag o' dresses (three of the same dress in different colors) and I was like, genius! With different leggings and tights and over-and-under tops and sweaters which I already have, that's going to carry me through fall and winter. So I bought them on the spot. I'm really not a big clothes buyer but as I get older I realize the value of well-made, versatile pieces. I've never watched an episode of Project Runway, but I guess that doesn't make me impervious to the expertise of Tim Gunn. Anyway, clothing needs for me, done. The leetle boy needs ur-vry-thing for fall (time to go a' consignin', methinks) but at least procuring toddler items is fun. I still need to box up and figure out what to do with the tons of stuff he's outgrown, but all in good time.

Now you're all up to date on my boring domestic stuff, here's a song I can't get out of my head.

Bye Bye Bye, There

Happy September y'all! Here we are on the verge of another long weekend and I couldn't be happier about that. Unfortunately, even if I were inclined to elaborate, I've got a bum wing and the splint makes the typing a wee bit difficult (don't worry, it's nothing crazy, just a little tendonitis brought on by hefting a baby repeatedly). So I'll just leave you today with a song--and band--that always makes me smile. Next week I'll be back to a theme-less musical free-for-all (and maybe some content if I'm more used to typing in this thing).