Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Virtual Vacation

I added a link to the Burj Al Arab the other day. Someday Snowflake and I will book our trip to Dubai, flying first class, woops, I mean on our own private jet and stay in one of the penthouse suites. Burqa free, too!

I am a serious freak for architecture. If you like design, you will drool uncontrollably, witnessing the opulence of ancient days in the palaces of the Sultans reinterpreted for the modern sophisticate. While you're at it, hop on over to the not yet built Hydropolis for some underwater adventure.

Enjoy your little escape! See you there. Sincerely,

-MsMamma, directly from the wi-fi lounge at the Holiday Inn (Airport)

The Gap

Two weeks ago:

"Your grandmother asked me if you were still nursing and I told her not really."

"What do you mean 'not really'? Why'd you say that? I just nursed him over here last night!" I said to my mother in disbelief.

"He only nursed for a few seconds and he fell asleep and you really only nurse him at night"

"Well, mom, that's still nursing! You're wacky. You must be embarassed." Silence.


"Do you sleep naked with the baby?" she says initiating another classic conversation.

"What?!? Why?" I say stunned. I mean where did she come up with this idea?

"Well, I was trying to make him take a nap and we were laying down and he pulled up my shirt. Then he poked my tummy and my bellybutton. When I asked him what he was looking for he said 'butt'. And he's always grabbing at my skin".

"No, I don't sleep naked with the baby! He's very tactile and curious. I think he's most attracted to flab, it fascinates him the way it bounces and ripples when you touch it."

"Just what are you saying?"

"Nothing, he just likes skin alot," I say steering away from my faux pas.


In another life I was a graphic designer. I love to play with Photoshop. Changing my blog header is like re-arranging the furniture, it's a compulsion that I have and it must be done frequently. I can't seem to find my perfect expression so I will keep on playing. Playing is what it's all about at this point in life.

I've said it before, not having a significant other allows me to focus completely on Snowflake. He is my attached co-sleeping breastfeeder. I agree with Dr. Sears that life is a series of weanings... from the womb, from the breast and from the family bed. I can't imagine what it's like for a couple that practices this. I suppose you can get very creative. I can't wait to sleep alone. Snowflake is a complete bedhog, somehow managing to stake the entire queen size to himself whilst leaving me a sliver the width of an ironing board.

Let the broken record play once again. They are little for such a brief period of time, I feel that it is my duty to be beckoned by his every reasonable whim. It has been worth it. I don't believe he has had a real meltdown, YET. He likes to share with others. He is not attached to material objects in any way. It's amazing the impact you have. One day he is going to be someone's partner and I hope I served them well.

I read him a spanish language storybook called "Frida", all about Frida Kahlo. It's his current favorite. Last night while I was doing the dishes he was leafing through it and I heard him say "Chihuahua. Chihuahua. Chihuahua. Chihuahua." I was floored! He said it so perfectly and it sounded so damn fricking cute I almost wept tears of joy. Calmly I assured him he was doing a great job. Internally I was screaming and doing backflips.

When I was younger I thought I would get married out of college and have lots of children. Time passed and I did pretty much everything I said I wouldn't do in life(another post for that one). I thought I would never be a mamma. I became one of those people that gave dirty looks to parents with those bratty screaming "creatures".

That changed and here I am. It has been the most amazing experience. Now I just feel sorry for them, wearing their black turtle necks and fitted leather jackets as they look down from their lofty modernist mid-century perches. Sure, their furniture will always be impeccable, but who are they going to leave it to?

A pity they may never know the sublime joy of having one of the greatest gifts life can bring you.

Monday, January 30, 2006


After snowblowing, I found Snowflake curled up on the couch lounging with his crackers and pepper jack cheese.


I asked him if I could take his photo. He said "Ya!"


Then he became squirrely, grinning mischieveously.


Having had enough, he made like a snobby movie star and harassed the paparazzi.

AM Frolic with The Chidler

Yesterday rain. Last night, snow. Our weather has a little split personality.

Fun this morning, sniffing for bunnies...

Looking very noble in the snow.He just needs a rustic booze barrel around his neck.(for me)

The little trike in the backyard

Waiting to go inside

For my morning chow.

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Drizzle on my Psyche

This weekend has been like living in the Pacific Northwest. Temperatures in the 40's and it's raining and gray. Sometimes I can be easily influenced by the weather to feel blue for no particular reason. I ignored the urge this morning.

Snowflake and I were up at the crack of dawn. He was excited to take a bath with his new giant rubber duckie. After bathing and breakfast we went to Target where I set out to buy only diapers and garbage bags. I ended up with three hats, a cashmere scarf, some Ghirardelli milk chocolate caramel squares, four long sleeved t-shirts, two mini notebooks, a stainless steel mixing bowl w/ rubber non-skid bottom and a fake pair of Robeez. God, I'm thrifty and frugal!

Driving downtown on the way back to the casa in the rain, I did a double take. I do believe I saw Snowflake's Y walking down the street. Pony tail, bucket hat, clean shaven, looking in the record store window. My heart sank.

The weather, along with a lot of other thoughts came pouring down. I didn't cry, but I felt so sad. I never thought in a million years I would be a single mom. I was thinking, WHY? Why did things have to turn out this way? Snowflake is such an amazing, sweet and loving little boy, my heart breaks when I think I have no one to share him with. I know I am enough, but there is no one that cares about him like I do.

Damn, the rain!

Thursday, January 26, 2006

The Effect of Sunlight

Today was a beautiful and gorgeous day. Thanks to global warming, it was a balmy 41 degrees here, just south of the Yukon. This is January! When it's this warm, you see the locals busting out from cabin fever and going coatless, or jogging in shorts. Silly, but necessary. The winters can be so long. Gray endless sunless days that start in October stretch into March and sometimes April. Not on this day, though.

The sun was bursting through the sky, warming everything with it's golden honey dripping dazzle. I saw a tiny young Redheaded Woodpecker in one of the Catalpa trees this morning drumming away. It was a day that could bring the crocus' up through the frost. Hope was blooming.

Snowflake and I went to visit a brand new baby girl that was born just over 24 hours ago. She is perfectly exquisite, a full head of downy brown hair, a button nose and pink rosy cheeks. She is so so tiny compared to my Jolly Green Giant. Life changes so quickly.

I see a mother and her firstborn toddler son walking through the park together, alone. Delighting in eachother's presence, enjoying this precious moment of time. You can tell she is not a good, but a great mother by the way she responds to him, by the way she anticipates his needs. He in turn has prepared her well for the baby that's not seen but on the way.

Next year everything will be different. Different but just as beautiful as today. Hope will still be blooming.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Peeping for Jesus

A few minutes ago I was lounging on the living room floor, nursing a sleepy Snowflake when all of a sudden The Chidler starts going really berserk. I'm thinking someone is walking their dog on the sidewalk.

Tap Tap Tap Tap From an unfamiliar place. Someone is knocking on the door inside of my screen porch that looks right into the living room where I'm currently splayed out half topless. God! They must have seen what I'm doing. No one in their right mind would walk onto the enclosed porch and knock on the interior door.

I quick get up pull down my shirt and see two dark shapes standing on the other side of this all glass door. I turn on the red exit light that serves as the porch light and find two well dressed young men. Yeah, you know the ones.

I motion through the glass pointing for them to go to the regular door. They nod, obligingly. Sticking my head out the back door as one of them pops into the entrance I ask if I can help them. I'm a little pissed and feel slightly exposed.

"We're from the Church of Jesus Chri..." he says as I cut him off and say,

"Thanks, but I'm not interested", shutting the door.

I have lived here 12 years and no one has ever knocked on that door. It just freaked me out a little, I guess. Never say never or ever.


Evolving from the Pioneer's Conestoga, the modern mobile home is more than affordable housing on semi-permanent wheels. Some are cute little weekend cabins. Some beaters are actually used for chicken coups. Our office is one such tubular ground hugging structure.

Let me say a little about airflow in a 1992 14 x 70, there isn't any. What there is, is the stagnant recirculation of the same old air over and over. This particular dilemma is the catalyst for cerain bathroom dynamics between coworkers. To some, this may be in bad taste, but to me, it is a matter of survival.

We call this 'shitiquette'. We have the follwing rules between the two of us when you have to take a dump in the office bathroom.

1. If the furnace or central air is running, SHUT IT DOWN. If one skips this crucial all important step, the entire office ends up smelling like an airplane bathroom on the way back from Mexico. FOR HOURS! This is completely unbearable in winter as we cannot open doors or windows.

2. ALWAYS double flush. The first flush should occur as the majority of the mother lode is coming out so as to eliminate any noxious hangtime. We all know what happens when the furnace kicks on.(see #1)

3. Spray lots of citrusy or lineny air freshener LIBERALLY. I cannot stress this enough. Also, avoid any air fresheners that smell like something you actually eat, cinnamon immediately comes to mind.

When a customer comes in and asks if they can use the bathroom, we give eachother a nervous look. Will they drop a bomb? Once someone emptied their colostomy bag in our bathroom while the cental air was on in the humid high 80's.

That was enough for the two of us to pick and choose who actually gets access to the bathroom and shitiquette was born.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Doodie vs. Duty

I breathed a sigh of relief returning my dad's dog yesterday. I thought The Chidler would be ecstatic to see him go, but none such luck. I think I felt his heart sink when he saw me put ol'snaggle tooth into the car, his huge glassy Milk Dud eyes begging to come with as he stared out the window watching us leave.

When I returned home I was greeted by a couple of stale turds on the kitchen floor and a small puddle of pee. Naughties! I know he might have thought this revenge was sweet, but it was short lived when he realized I was not going to give him his evening cup o' chow. The war was by no means over.

Two weeks ago I bought Snowflake this damn charming little goth bandana to wear. It was black with the Jolly Roger and hearts where the crossbones meet. He wore it once and it will never grace his neck again. I came downstairs this morning and found one teensie shred on The Chidler's fainting couch.

Where did it go? Somewhere I am all too familiar with. That's right, it is peristalsing it's way down through The Chidler's bowels. With no Catalpa leaves to serve as paper towel, I am praying that it works it's way out of his asspipe without any assistance from me. My anticipation is palpable. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

On top of this duty, this is my week in the pool for jury duty, that civil doodie everyone seems to love to hate. I was not selected this morning but have to return up to three more times this week.

I was thinking, hmmmm, you never know, I could meet some cutie. Ah, WRONG! I sat next to a gentleman in the gallery who was wearing a tight green stretchy vintage like work ensemble. Scruffy, thick oily hair with full on bedhead and reeking of cigarette smoke, the bailiff asked him if he needed a work excuse to which he replied in that scratchy whiskey drinkin' voice,

"Nope, I'm self employed."

I mean there is duty and then there is doodie. I have my hands full of it.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Friday, January 20, 2006

Bathroom Confession

This morning after brushing Snowflake's cute tiny teeth, I put him down and gave him the usual I love you and he says,

"Wuv you mommy"


My heart stopped. That's me over there on the floor in a little puddle, he melted me. Forget all of our battle of wills this week, it was the sweetest thing I have ever heard, EVER. As far as I am concerned, he is absolutely, one hundred percent perfectly and positively angelic! Was that me whining earlier this week? I must have been experiencing delirium leftovers from Sunday night.

Being a parent is so amazing if you truly embrace it for everything it is. It feels like being the first and only person to REALLY know what it feels like. These moments in time are so sweet and so brief, I feel I have to grab on to them, cherish them. I'm sure this little love high will wear off, like the next time he bites my leg and I'm not expecting it.

Right now, life IS beautiful, Mr. Benigni.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Catching a Snowflake

In a parallel universe, Snowflake and I live in the panhandle of Idaho. We have an organic farm where we raise free range chickens, alpacas and pugs. I have a great affinity for spinning and a talent for growing hydroponics in my greenhouse.

Along with knitting chunky, funky sweaters for Snowflake, I paint landscape portraits featuring pug bacchanalias. Snowflake is the ever obedient child who attends an exclusive pre prep school for pre preschoolers just a spell down the road. Fluent in Japanese, he has just mastered the art of Origami and is proficient playing classical harp. Ahhhhhhh. What a sweet, sweet child I smile to myself.

AHHHHHHHHH! Today I felt like Sara Goldfarb in "Requiem for a Dream". Instead of being in Idaho, I was confined to a tin can loaf pan with no escape from the Non-Napper. The only free range was the office oven whose pilot light went out thus causing a noxious stench to fill the air until a sweet old man came in and offered to light it for me.

Snowflake was more than creative today in his mischief. The mini blinds hanging from the office windows all have knotted cords so that the aforementioned doesn't somehow strangle himself. Leave it to Snowflake to find a new hidden danger. Sticking the cord into his mouth and leaning backwards, he managed to lodge the string's last knot behind his two front teeth.

Strung up like a fish and half dangling from tippy toes he says,"Mom? Mom? Mom!"

I actually had to lift his body up to get some slack in the cord so I could pull it out.

It was like REALLY catching a live one.


Photoshopped Onlooker Eyeballing Interesting Stranger NYC 2001
(Onlooker's Face Courtesy of American Ex-Pat Dude Living on Vancouver ISland)

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

When MacGyvering Fails

Bringing Snowflake to work has been a bit challenging. So far I've had to put all wheeled office chairs behind closed doors. If he has access to them, he pushes them over to the counter, scales the cupboard and turns on the faucet in the kitchen area. He has figured out what the spray attachment does. It's definitely not a lo-flo nozzel. He completely soaked me twice.

I've had to MacGyver the oven door. I cut the cord off of an old telephone and wired the door shut. If the door is not tied, Snowflake's main desire is opening it, standing on the door and jumping on it like a trampoline.

Other amusements include sticking forks into the back of the copy machine, spraying various chemicals at himself, dropping coins, keys, gourmet jelly beans and pens down the heating vents, pulling plaster bits out of a crack in the wall and stuffing other objects back into the gaping fissure he's created, pouring his drink all over the floor or spitting it on himself, and pulling and tearing posters and photos off the walls.

On a more positive note, he likes to Swiffer.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

The Shark

As I was leaving the office today, I saw "The Shark" pull out from the credit union. That's what he called his car. There was no mistaking that two tone blue 1987 Chevy Caprice Classic, a black and white skull sticker on each side of the front fender panels. I nostalgically longed for the cool baby blue crushed velvet upholstery in prime condition. Could it possibly be HIM?

My co-worker dubbed him, "The Play-ah". So let's just call him that. The Play-ah would never be caught dead wearing pants. The day I met him, February 1, 2002 he was wearing some army green cut offs with some ripped long underwear. This was topped by a grey flannel button up and a well worn leather motorcycle jacket, a "Motorhead" pin on the lapel. Maybe it was Grunge At First Sight. The way he looked at me made me feel like I was 22 years old again.

My ex-boyfriend Todd, and I went out that evening to our favorite blues dive and when we walked in and sat down, my eyes hit The Play-ah's and it was like that old 80's tune "Magnet & Steel". That was the only time I've ever met someone's eyes and felt like I was struck by a lightening bolt. I still feel tingly just thinking about him.

I fell hard for him and he was moving to the hill country of Tennesse, just west of the Smokey Mountains to blow glass in a few weeks. This is sounding like a hillbilly love song. I still have a sticker on my back door that he sent me that says "Protected by A Glass Blower". I however chose to cut out the "Gl" for some reason and it now says "ass Blower". We had a crazy exciting intense whirlwind fling.

He moved away and called me all the time. I sent him nude photographs of myself! Believe me, I'm not that kind of girl. Twice he showed up for no reason. He brought me beautiful quirky trinkets and flowers. He gave me a real Munachi Love Charm. I swooned. It's sitting on my kitchen windowsill. In August he showed up again to tell me he was moving back.

Strangely, we couldn't seem to pull it all together. We just faded away, quietly and never attempted to connect. The last time I saw him he came to a rummage sale to pick up a rug my mom gave him. It was a cool handmade carpet made by my now deceased uncle in Portland Oregon. He brought his dowdy girlfriend along and her eight year old son.

It wasn't as bad as it sounds. Snowflake was five months old and we were ancient history that really never was. I still have this feeling he might just show up on my doorstep one day.

I see a man in plaid flannel, very much past prime, wearing a baseball cap and sporting a fuzzy mustache and thick glass block spectacles. He's commanding The Shark and he is definitely not the recipient of my photos.

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Feeling Funked Up


Sunday night at about 10pm all hell broke loose biologically. Snowflake sleeping peacefully at my side, I sprinted to the bano and began an evening of body shaking wretching. The yaking continued well into the next morning although there was nothing left to hurl. I forgot what it felt like to be out of control in that way, just perched over the loo letting your body go to work, ridding itself of some Godforsaken poisonous mystery. I don't think I have been that sick since I was a little girl.

This morning brought relief, I finally started to feel "normal" again, except for the jack hammer splitting pain rocking my head. That too, now is fading. Thanks be! I think Snowflake has been spared the misery!

Sunday, January 15, 2006

A Cowpoke and his SideQuack


Here's the lil' cowpoke this morning, all fresh and fruity after a bath.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Cheesy but Real

Tonight Snowflake and I ordered a thin crust cheese pizza for din-din. We hung out and shared, cozied up on the brown leather nailhead loveseat in the living room. We were in such a harmonius little sync, our bond is so strong.

Putting the rest in the 'frigidaire' as my polish granny would have said, I noticed the pizza box had tips for parents and children encouraging them to ask one another questions, thus sparking a meaniful attempt at true interaction. At first I thought, has it come to this? Some people are taking the advice off of a pizza box because they are so out of touch with one another. That is so pathetic!

Snowflake and I have a symbiosis of mutual respect for one another. I can't imagine ever being out of touch with him, even though he's just a wee sprite. I thought of my dad. I read those questions again. Maybe if my dad had read a pizza box like this, everything would be different between us.

My dad won't buy shoes that lace up because he has difficulty reaching over his old school beer belly. He is easily irritated by computers, cellphones and dvd players and he uses them habitually. He shakes his head 'no' alot, rolls his eyes and humphs. Yet, I do know how he would answer all the questions I would "ask" him. He wouldn't have a clue to mine.

I'm waltzing here, but then I thought if this sparks some absent or aloof parent to intereact with their child, or the child, rebellious or content to return to the bonds of family, fantastico. Everybody needs to know they are truly loved and respected in this world by their nearest and dearest.

I feel this with Snowflake and it is powerful. Warm thoughts tonight courtesy of Pizza Hut. I can't gag, it just gives Snowflake bad ideas.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Just You & Me, Kid

Tomorrow everyone begins to desert us. Our entire teensie familia is going south of the border. It is a company trip and everyone is going. Big Pappy just kept drilling it over and over into my skull how he thought it would be a bad idea to take Snowflake. "What if he gets sick? You wouldn't want a sick baby in Mexico! I don't want to hear about it if he gets sick." He's so child friendly, bless his heart.

Snowflake and I are taking care of his psychotic, snaggle-toothed lhasa apso while they're gone.

Sid and Nancy asked me if I would assume the responsibility of raising their five month old bambino in the case of their untimely demise since they decided not to take him. Of couse, of course.

"But we would want him to eat meat, okay?" Sid said.

He can eat whatever he wants, I assured them. Then they gave me a notarized copy of a living will. It's queer to imagine myself, as a single mother of two and no immediate family. I would definitely have to move to Miami to be by my best friend or start a boarding house for wayward orphans and pugs.

Everytime my parents go away this conversation always occurs:

"You have the keys to the lock boxes, right?"


"If something happens, go down there immediately!" (With this type of urgency it can only be weapons grade plutonium)


"You know where my jewelry is, right?"


"Okay, good. Maybe you should just stay here while we're gone."

My mother worries that Snowflake's Y is going to show up and wreak havoc. She thinks we'd be safer at their house. We can even bring The Chidler, she entices. As dangerous as her worrisome mind thinks it is, I am happiest sleeping in my own comfy but apparently bacteria laden, may as well be a thousand pound flophouse mattress.

With everyone leaving, it is like life flashing before my eyes. A mind wanders when left alone. It is a mini lesson in survival, I mean what if?

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Rigor Mortis & Tenderness

Like an addict for smack, I headed back to the closing bookstore today to make absolutely sure I left no curious tome unfound. I grabbed an interesting volume by Dr. Miles Bader entitled, "10,001 Food Facts, Chef's Secrets & Household Hints."

Being a vegetarian I found it oddly provoking that the page I flipped open to was in the "Meat" section. My eyes were immediately drawn to a paragraph, "Rigor Mortis and Tenderness".

"The process of rigor mortis occurs in all animals and is characterized by the stiffening of the meat and occurs a few hours after slaughtering. If meat is not consumed immediately after it is slaughtered then you should wait at least 15-36 hours which gives the enzymes a chance to soften the connective tissue."

I never really thought about this happening to the meat we eat(or used to eat). Instead, I associated rigor mortis only with the death of a human being.

My mother found my brother after he died. She stopped at his house on the way back from their cottage to check in and instantly thought it was odd that just the screen door was closed, the front door open. He was laying face down on the rug, like he had just gotten up from the sofa and fell flat forward.

Five years have gone by and I still cannot even fathom the scene. The shorts he was wearing, his legs blue, his shoes neatly placed to the side of the couch. His body stiff and cold to the touch. None of this I saw with my own eyes. My mother, running to him and crouching down, lifting his head up as fluids fell from his nose. "Oh Thommy, get up! Oh, Thom! Thom!" She rocked and held him, her lifeless first son.

My father called me on very sunny and beautiful summer Sunday. Wincing he told me he thought we had "lost" Thommy. What do you mean lost? He was headed to my mother. To pick her up.

Calling my mother's cell phone the voice of a man I did not recognize answers.

"Who is this?" I say, pissed off.

"This is Officer Blahdiddy-Blah. Who is THIS?"

"Let me talk to my mother!" I heatedly reply.


She is not there. There is nothing but the sound of primal, gutteral sadness, horror, loss and disbelief. There is really no way to describe it. It was the deep and soulful wail of a mother in dire distress. Gurgling, groaning and grunting and then, a few almost undiscernable "Oh, Thommys", sporadically.

The image I live with is one I never witnessed, only imagined. The feelings I have are so painful and horrifying they make me feel like I am suffocating. My mother, how can I even begin to know what she felt and still feels like? The bleak and unbearable image of my mother holding and gentley rocking my brother in her arms back and forth, over and over, there is nothing she can do but grieve and wail. Wailing to will the life back into her baby.

There is nothing more tender and heartbreaking to me.

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Tuesday, January 10, 2006

The Chidler Bejeweled


Tonight Snowflake and I found this cool Isaac Mizrahi rhinestone leather collar for our furry family member on clearance at Target.(Yes, yes, I have a thing for Target). Snowflake calls him "Charles", but it sounds like "Chaahhs". Too precious. What a proud, regal and handsome pup. You'd never guess his breath smells like assrot!



My beautiful Snowflake this morning before we headed off to work. I wish he could stay this size and this age forever(almost 22 months). I get so misty when I think of my only bambino growing up at warp speed. Where is the emergency stop button?

The Ugly Side of Cute

Snowflake is on the fast track to becoming the world's most famous baby bulimic, at least in my book. Sunday we went to Target where we indulged in a feast of popcorn, craisins and V-8 Fruit Punch.

After wandering for awhile he begins to stick his hand in his mouth. I ignore it. However I cannot ignore the gagging sounds coming from his mouth. People are staring. They hear this wretched sound and they look, horrified at this cute little demon smiling at them, drooly spittle running down his chin. He laughs wickedly right at me as I attempt to chide him. This energizes him.

I am getting a little embarrassed at this point and whisk him away to the check out so we can hightail it the F out of there. Big mistake. He feeds off my recoiling negativity. He is reveling in his purging. The girl at the check out says, "Awww, he's so cute!" And then her gaze turns to disbelief as he horks up his snack with an evil giggle.

I look at it running down his red corduroy coat. I mumble that I don't know why he does this and tell Snowflake that everyone is going to think he's freaky.

He smiles sweetly and squawks "Freaky! Freaky! Bye-Bye" as I quickly swab him down with a fresh baby wipe and we exit the scene.

Monday, January 09, 2006

Twats in Paris

A new season of The Bachelor started tonight. Snowflake and I only get five local channels on our bright yellow 13" Sponge Bob and it happened to be on ABC as I placed my last post. Yes, we's livin' lage! You may guess we're a very TV oriented twosome.

While Snowflake slumbers I hear the whores of America shrieking and cooing in disbelief that they are oh-my-God-in-Paris and he's a (BIG-HYPERVENTILATING-GASP) doctor! Doncha think there has to be something wrong at the very CORE of these people? Amusing and hideous. As they say, there cannot be great beauty without ugliness. In France of all places! They just LOVE us there. Goodluck, dipshits!

Confessions of a Former Mall Rat

In this average size midwestern town, city planners talk of downtown revitalization. They try, but a few ecclectic shops can't make up for the massive mistake so many towns their size made in the 80's: knocking down the core character of a cool place to build a mall.

I spent every Saturday at this place when I was in highschool cruising the circuit with my girlfriends. Claire's Boutique sold jelly bracelets. I actually worked at THE LIMITED! I can still remember everyone wearing their Forenza V neck sweaters backwards. It was the era of "Weird Science" and "Sixteen Candles".

I went to that same mall today with my mamma. She was looking for some things to take on a trip. I NEVER go to the mall. Unlike malls in major metropolitan areas, this mall is a dinosaur, a ghost-town of it's former glory days. There are so few stores it's almost pathetic. There are even fewer customers.

The majority of the stores, minus The Gap, cater to teensie tinsie weensie woo woo's. Hollister, Aero Postal, AE, everything is the same, the only difference is the logo. I really wanted to gag myself but had to hold back so Snowflake wouldn't follow suit.

It's strange getting older. You think you're somewhat hip and then you go to this mall-shanty and realize you are on the downside of our insane youth culture. OUCH! It kind of hurts! Sometimes I just want to go and get a chemical peel.

Maybe a little ass & thigh suck. Why not a great boob lift to take away two years of breastfeeding?

Then I think NO FORKING WAY. I LOVE my thirties! And I love me. They have been the BEST years yet. This is coming from a single mother, all! The mall will always be a shrine to little titties and small waists. I wave goodbye and say thanks for the memories, but NO THANKS.

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Sunday, January 08, 2006

Fried, Too

I completely spaced. I also watched most of "Kill Bill Volume 2". Although "Resevoir Dogs" is my favorite Tarantino film, there is something beyond delightful about a woman just kicking pure ass. Thumbs up, fo' sho'!

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Extra Well Done

I used to consider myself highbrow when it came to film. Until today, I hadn't seen a movie in almost two years! Well, today was a day of complete laziness and film debauchery courtesy of satellite tv at the padres casa. I was skeezing, slumming and thoroughly wasting the day. What fine contributions to the world of entertainment did I entrance myself with? I am almost embarrassed to say!

I started the afternoon with "Wedding Crashers". I used to love Owen Wilson and now I am beginning to think I must be losing my sense of humor because I just didn't find it that pants-splitting. The funny thing is, I realized the end of his nose really looks like a penis.(I'm not just saying that because I've been in the convent for so long! Look at it sometime!)

Falling further down the trail of indulgence, I watched "13 Going on 30." This starred Jennifer Garner in a poorly written but happy go lucky formula film with a heavy nod to the 80's and all of it's glorious music. It was all saccharine sweet. Can I have a slice of cheesecake?

Next was "The Butterfly Effect". This was quite the load of butterfly guano. It's amazing the way someone can lose all of their sex appeal when they don't have all their parts. Of course there is NO WAY Hollywood would let Ashton remain a skanky handless disabled shell of a hero! All's well that ends well. More cheesecake anyone?

I finished out the evening watching "Fargo". I've always liked the Cohen brothers films and I think this is definitely the best. Has there been a more spineless cad in a film since William H. Macy's Jerry Lundegaard? Francis McDormand as the pregnant midwestern lady cop as hero was a refreshing change. Or it could be Steve Buscemi's foot sticking out of the woodchipper. Maybe I'm just partial to that sexy Minnesotan dialect. Ya. I think it's more the common bond we share living in the frigid tundra.

I feel over exposed, satiated and bloated from a 36" Sony flatscreen Wega. I'm seeing trailers, tracers and little flying dots. Stick a fork in me, I am DONE.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Ahora Mismo


The simple joy of silence, the tone of the furnace running. A fruity tasty glass of cabernet, slowly sipping. A candle burning, soft and glowy, the scent of creme caramel. Twilight fading, fluorescent grey. Violet, periwinkle, a burst of vibrating electric neon watermelon as the sun melts away. A child sleeping peacefully, rosy flushed cheeks, as in a stillife. The twinkly magic sparkle of any natural diamond. Black soft cotton tshirt so velveteen and suedey against skin. Skin against skin. The hum of a body in sync with the moment. Like the vibration after a great massage or a relaxing soak or amazing sex. A beach with southern exposure at approximately 7pm in the summertime. A night overlooking and being a part of NYC from a rooftop. A sweltering crowded evening drink in Little Italy at 11pm. Feeling energized and completely alone walking down 42nd Street at a ghostly 5am. Snuggling down into sumptuous silken gazillion thread count sheets. Hearing the bustle of life awakening again, it is the same hush tone of the furnace. The vibration of the Earth. You are a part of it. This is the moment.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Turning Japanese

Ever since I was a wee sprite I have always been fascinated by Orientalia. My brothers and I watched kungfu movies with wild abandon and re-enacted each scene in our mother's bath robes in the living room using wrapping paper tubes as our honorable swords. We watched dubbed Bruce Lee movies over and over, developing and perfecting the art of talking when your mouth wasn't moving and vice versa.

A child of the 80's, I could never forget Richard Chamberlain(aka sexy Father Ralph of the Thornbirds) in the miniseries Shogun. I loved the scenery, the kimono, the society steeped deep in their ancestors traditions. It is elegance in simplicity. Happiness in simplicity. Or stabbing yourself simply.

So the other day I picked up a Pimsleur's Japanese CD. Snowflake and I are listening to lesson one every morning on the way to Nana's do-jo. Pimsleur is the same method they use in the FBI & CIA.

Already I'm asking Snowflake if he's American and if he understands Japanese. Of course he nods "HI" like good little baby sumo. That is progress! I'll have Snowflake post in Japanese when we're fluent. Or when were in deep cover at the sushi bar.

PM update: Snowflake is enthusiastically pronouncing ee-ay, which he now knows means NO in Japanese. I asked for it.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006


Reflecting on New Year's Eve, I am so thankful that I'm not "out there" anymore. That was only the second time in two and a half years I've gone out and it was my first night away from Snowflake! It was fun for a carefree night, but I'd rather be holed up in our swanky cozy casa. I'm not missing anything except being hit on by damaged alcoholics.

Speaking of -ics and -isms, I have passed one on to Snowflake. He is a certifiable BIBLIOHOLIC! Yesterday I went loco and bought a bonanza of gorgeous hardcover books from a bookstore that is closing. I felt like a crazed pirate who had just found booty galore! Lovingly perusing pages, flipping and fondeling, drooling over make believe, I could imagine my little Mini-Me combusting with excitement as he dove headlong into a treasure trove of new fantastical worlds.

"Tommy DoLittle" is the laziest boy in the world and now he is Snowflake's constant companion. We must have read it thirty times last night. Switching to "My Car" didn't last long.

"Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom!" Snowflake sweetly chirped.

How could I resist? It brings absolute joy to my heart when Snowflake gets so excited and turned on by books. I read "Catcher in the Rye" aloud when I was pregnant and I have read to Snowflake everyday since he was born. If that translates into a life long passion for books I am beyond words, beyond proud.

Monday, January 02, 2006

One Night StandUp

My friend Marilyn is hilarious with a capital H, so when she said she'd go out on New Year's with me for awhile, I was thrilled. Marilyn is a very petite, stacked and vivacious fortysomething who definitely doesn't look a day past thirtysomething(and we know all of us beautiful thirtysomethings REALLY look twentysomething anyway). Confident in her sexuality, she makes no apologies for her tigress-like libido.

She has been hanging out with this guy who just isn't for her. The night before New Year's she had him over for dinner. Although she didn't buy him a Christmas present, she was the lucky recipient of a maple cured spiral sliced ham. How romantic, I thought. If someone gave me something like that I would definitely have to cannon ball it right up their ass. I suppose there may be some sort of primitive charm in this gesture.

Ms. Marilyn made this delicious feast and he ended up staying over night for the first time. I guess that's what men expect when they give you a ham? Anyway, she commented that he was less than stellar in the boudoir and I could tell she was disappointed.

"You don't snore", he said the next morning.

"You don't either, you ERUPT!", she non-chalantly said.

Then she told me how she imagined him wearing one of those creepy sleep apnea masks when he's at home alone.

"You know, alot of guys in their forties wear them. You'd be suprised," she told me.

I never really thought about it, I guess. Is this what I have to look forward to? Interesting. Creepy is right on the money.

Creepy, cramped, smokey and dark, we began our New Year's at a local blues pub turned alternative for the night and skee-daddled after just one drink. Ms.Marilyn suggested we head to the new funky jazz bar. It was a smokeless hip little joint with a granite U-shaped bar, italian pendant lighting and Vodkas galore.

It was here we met Dave, a chap who was in town closing his seasonal store. After a few Ciroc screwdrivers and lively conversation, the three of us went to a different skanky subterranian grotto. It was here that I knew I was the third wheel. No, they never made me "feel" that way, I just felt weird standing there as they tried to "stealthfully" dry hump one another in the dim light.

I got home at about 2:30am and felt pretty good.


"Good morning! How are YOU this morning?", Marilyn chirps.

Man, she's so chipper and she was just so buzzed, "I'm great", I say, "You?"

"I just had WILD MONKEY SEX with Dave!" she laughs giddily.

"Good for you. He was cute and funny", I say.

"Yeah, we started making out on the couch and I wasn't about to take him into my bed and have him smell aftershave from the night before so we stayed in the living room!"

I laugh alot. We agree that Spiral Sliced is no longer curable.

"You know, I should really call family planning and get myself some EZ-EC! My doctor told me that women in their forties are always shooting off eggs and that's why you see all of these older women with happy accidents. I'm either going to wind up pregnant or with an STD", she says.

I agree with her and laugh some more. EZ-EC, is that just funny to me? That's like EZ-Cheese.

"Can't you just see it? Good Morning America... a midwestern woman is going to be a mamma with twins and a grandma! She and her 23 year old daughter both got knocked up New Year's Eve,"she rattles.

"Yeah, and if you're shooting off all of those eggs, it could be like puppies, you know, a different sire for each pup", I say, "What a scandalous paternity nightmare!"

We laugh some more. She says she could never do it, be a mom again. I personally think she'd be an amazing mamma again, but I think she'd miss her cocktails too much.

She has this really nice next door neighbor who is always doing little things for her. She won't take a chance on him. He brings her bottles of his homemade wine and shovels for her sometimes. An hour into our conversation she mentions that he just brought her some cookies.

"I guess I better go and fuck him", she deadpans.

I laugh so hard I ALMOST pee my Nick & Nora's.

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