Monday, December 31, 2007

Finding a Happy Place


Goodbye, 2007. It was an interesting year and as I stand here on the cusp of 2008, I'm trying to find a happy place. With the New Year comes unemployment and uncertainty. Now is not the time to upgrade my internet service. I'm a little scared. Trying to find a place in the world even at this age. How ridiculous! Absurd! Whatever. Bring it on. As long as I'm breathing, I suppose that could be considered success. Happy New Year.

Sunday, December 30, 2007


Since just before Christmas, Snowflake and I have busy digging out of endless snowbanks. Yesterday I went on a mission to find us some skates. We went to Play It Again Sports and I found a kickass pair of black leather skates for me made in "West Germany". Hell yeah, they're cool. I want to find some skull and crossbones patches and have them sewn on. Snowflake wasn't as lucky. Or was he?

Hockey skates were too big and they didn't have any regular boys skates. I finally found a brand new pair that fit. The problem...they're totally white. I bought them anyway and we went skating 'downtown' on the lovely and charming city square. Think Norman Rockwell or Thomas "Buttfvck" Kinkade and you're there.

Snowflake had a blast. I was just relieved I didn't fall and crack my noggin' open or break a tooth. When we got home, my friend brought over a case of acrylic paint and I let Snowflake paint his skates. When he was finished I decided to embellish them a little more. Who am I to waste good paint? The result: custom blades of glory. Look out girls, hot feet coming through!

That's SF in the background on his new Gary Fisher bike.


I Ripped My

I can't believe I cut my finger on a pair of Snowflake's Sponge Bob Underpants. Mother fvcker. I was pulling off a dangling string from the electric blue elastic waistband. I give it a good yank and as I watch it slicing through my finger I think, damn you synthetic fibers, damn you Sponge Bob!

Friday, December 21, 2007

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Time for W(h)ine

Some days I just want to chuck it all and run away. I dream of the hardcore style of my exit in which I just jump in the car one morning after Snowflake has gone to school and burn rubber. I say fuck it all.

The past two days have been shitty. Super shitty. I don't know if Montesorri is for Snowflake. When I pick him up, he fights leaving, always wanting to finish his task. Then his 'teachers' get stern and reiterrate that it's time to go.

They've told me he needs to stop calling kids names. Recently he's picked up HATE from one of his classmates. Yesterday when I ppicked him up, this little girl, whom I have seen act like a spoiled shitface(yeah, I'm name calling) said, "Snowflake calls us names!"

I said, "Yeah, I've told him that's not acceptable, but I also think it's his way of being creative with words". While I'm talking, SF wrinkles up his nose and contorts his face at her.

"And he makes that face at us too!" she squeaks.

"Yes," I say, "he's a crazy little guy" and we leave.

This is the same girl I've seen hoof and stomp around saying in a waaaaaa waaaaa voice, "I'm a BAAAAAAAAABBBY! I'm a BAAAAAAAAAAAAABBBY!" Whatever.

From there we went to the dentist where he freaked out by wailing and crying the entire time they filled his cavity. He DID however listen to them and kept his hands on his tummy. When he was done, wet tears streaking down his chubby cheeks, he said he wanted a surprise(junk toys made in china in plush puppy shaped basket). No one said anything. He said it again. His dentist then starts in with,

"Surprises are for good boys and girls who listen and you didn't listen very well, did you?" More crying. We eventually leave. I don't even know if I want to go back there. Fuck.

Today when I picked him up I was informed that he had a really bad day. He didn't cooperate at nap time and he called everyone names. Miss A said she actually had to take a few minutes in the bathroom to regroup after he said "I hate you" repeatedly. It just really pisses me off because I don't even READ the word hate to him if it's in one of his books(for example "How the Grinch Stole Christmas").

Miss A who is sweet and helpful then started to tell me what the another teacher did with her son(yeah, the one who taught the word hate). Something about writing all the bad words down on slips of paper, letting him say them as many times as he wanted and then putting them in a jar, symbolizing that they can no longer be said because they are "bad" words. I honestly think it's too primitive for my kid. He knows better. And let me just say his name calling usually amounts to some suffix added like pat, cake, pit, etc.

In punishment that doesn't equal the crime, I told him when he has a bad day(if he calls names, etc) at school, he will have dinner and go to bed. I hate it. How am I supposed to punish him for something I'm not witness to? It sucks. I've been warning him for weeks, telling him that Santa isn't coming. I've thought about saving his toys for his birthday and just let him open presents from other people. I don't want to have an assy brat. At the same time, this town is so full of cliquey assiness that I wonder if it isn't just the kids of the totally assy. FUCK.

I almost want to say FUCK SANTA. How ironic is it that I bought him a gigantic lump of coal at TJ Maxx today? Poor fella. I love him so much.

This is Christmas

Last week, I was tagged by the beautiful and bookish J, who was tagged by Scarlett(this has always been my dream name!). It's a lovely little original Christmas meme. Grab some eggnog and bring on the cheer!

Please share 12 of your favorite Christmas things: they can be memories, traditions, songs, presents, beliefs, whatever it is about this season that you love.

Send it to 12 people, and be sure to link to them so that everyone can enjoy the many variations!

1.) I LOVE snow! I love winter! As much as it can be depressingly draining the way it seems to carry on forever, attitude IS everything. Skis, snowshoes, we've got 'em!

2.) A real, made from scratch "Tom & Jerry". They are so de-lish! and just the right thing for a cold winter's night.

3.) Christmas tunes. I sent my fave mix that was given to me by The Godfather to a few special people this year. I hope they enjoy it.

4.) Wrapping Christmas presents. I like to make everything look amazing. So usually when you get a Christmas present from me, it will be wrapped uniquely and adorned with sumptuous ribbon and a neat tag.

5.) This is my most favorite Christmas song, EVER.

6.) Or maybe this one because it makes me want to kiss someone:

7.) When I was a little kid, Santa knocked on our door one winter night and visited us. It was mindblowing because he gave us each a stocking filled with goodies, WITH OUR NAMES WRITTEN IN GLITTER ON THEM! It had to be Santa! Such a wonderful memory. It was my Uncle Nick who played The Claus, authentic belly and all.

8.) A year later, I hid under my brother's crib one Christmas Eve and watched my parents carry all of our presents downstairs.

9.) One year, I think I was about 11 or so, I meticulously unwrapped each of my presents and wrapped them back up, unbeknownst to my padres. I then casually mentioned to my mother how I didn't want 'this or that' for Christmas. What a rotten little girl! Who says we're all sugar and spice?

10.) I love mulled cider. It reminds me of my friend Heather Bauer who I haven't seen or talked to in years. I miss her.

11.) We have a home movie somewhere where my little brothers were both wearing these red and white striped pajamas. The youngest, Jimmy was digging through his stocking and found some of those Brach's Christmas taffy/mint candies with the tree shape in the middle. My dad pans the camera to him and says, "Jimmy, what'd you get for Christmas?"

He holds up said candy, one in each hand, eyes as big as saucers and says,

"I got TWO candies!"

12.) My mother made each of us a stocking when we were little. They're white with a blue calico lining that folds over into a wide cuff and have cut out cats sewn on them(we never had a real cat though). We could tell them apart by how many cats were on them. Mine has four. It is so great to have hanging by the fireplace. I love my stocking.

So now I have to tag 12 others to share the Christmas love. So let's see:

1.) Lisa
2.) jMO
3.) Jimmy
4.) Dino
5.) Maggie
6.) Nutrix
7.) Nina
8.) Northwest Observer
9.) Glamgranola
10.) Rachel
11.) Unrelaxed Dad (I know how much you love memes and you're so idle these days)
12.) 180/360

Whew...that's alotta linking! If you don't want to do 12 or don't have 12, no worries, just share a little cheer! XO

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Neti, My Love

Last Spring I had a wicked sinus infection combined with the feeling of a million tiny daggers stabbing my throat and tossing sea salt on top of the wound for good measure. OUCH. This fall it has been back. I happened to be chatting with my really hot and crunchy friend, Annie, when she mentioned that she bought a Neti Pot for her hubs, Pedro.

Then I remembered the suggestions I got from Unrelaxed Dad and Dino last Spring when they swore by them. I went to Walgreen's and purchased one for $9.99 including 50 premixed packets of solution.

I'm now totally in love with my Neti Pot. I feel so good about it.

God, I feel fresh!

Maybe it's because I've been so sexually barren, but I'm almost tempted to say I'm more enamored of it than my trusty stealth Oral-B. When I think of sex, I think of wild tumbleweeds twirling across the lonely abandoned highway that is my womanhood.

Can you hear the wind blowing? I can. Thanks to Neti, my love.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Cloud 9

This past weekend, the "Peace on Earth" show at the New Horizons Gallery was judged. The idea of this show is to present your work along with words that inspired it. I submitted three pieces, including "Guarding Our Roots".

Turns out, that piece was the highest scoring work out of 97 pieces. I won "Best in Show"! The actual piece is approximately 20" x 30" and framed in a kick ass galvanized, corrugated frame. The judge was from the LYWAM and said that my piece was one she would actually buy for her own home! Not only that, but my piece beat work from a "Birds in Art" artist. I am humbled by that and completely jazzed. I want to yodel from the mountain tops. After all, my name IS Heidi.

But wait, there's more!

Another piece won an Award of Excellence. I'm still a little shell-shocked and amazed and feeling floaty.

My brother started calling me an "arteest". Can I really call myself that? It's just weird.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Guarding Our Roots

(My Christmas Card to You)

Christmas Trees by Robert Frost

(A Christmas Circular Letter)

THE CITY had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country to the country;
When between whirls of snow not come to lie
And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove
A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,
Yet did in country fashion in that there
He sat and waited till he drew us out
A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.
He proved to be the city come again
To look for something it had left behind
And could not do without and keep its Christmas.
He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;
My woods—the young fir balsams like a place
Where houses all are churches and have spires.
I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas Trees.
I doubt if I was tempted for a moment
To sell them off their feet to go in cars
And leave the slope behind the house all bare,
Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.
I’d hate to have them know it if I was.
Yet more I’d hate to hold my trees except
As others hold theirs or refuse for them,
Beyond the time of profitable growth,
The trial by market everything must come to.
I dallied so much with the thought of selling.
Then whether from mistaken courtesy
And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether
From hope of hearing good of what was mine,
I said, “There aren’t enough to be worth while.”
“I could soon tell how many they would cut,
You let me look them over.”

“You could look.
But don’t expect I’m going to let you have them.”
Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close
That lop each other of boughs, but not a few
Quite solitary and having equal boughs
All round and round. The latter he nodded “Yes” to,
Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,
With a buyer’s moderation, “That would do.”
I thought so too, but wasn’t there to say so.
We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,
And came down on the north.
He said, “A thousand.”

“A thousand Christmas trees!—at what apiece?”

He felt some need of softening that to me:
“A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.”

Then I was certain I had never meant
To let him have them. Never show surprise!
But thirty dollars seemed so small beside
The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents
(For that was all they figured out apiece),
Three cents so small beside the dollar friends
I should be writing to within the hour
Would pay in cities for good trees like those,
Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools
Could hang enough on to pick off enough.
A thousand Christmas trees I didn’t know I had!
Worth three cents more to give away than sell,
As may be shown by a simple calculation.
Too bad I couldn’t lay one in a letter.
I can’t help wishing I could send you one,
In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.

christmas tree farm

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Free Trade

I traded this t-shirt:

little brother

For this print.

I'm feeling all groovy after a totally de-lish! and gourmet Tom and Jerry from this place:


Then I had two hot buttered rums( and a Spotted Cow). On Wisconsin! This is how we roll.
The guy that I'm trading this with lives in Santiago. Maybe I'm just all happy/tipsy from my evening out with my pal Dave. Or maybe it's that my sore throat is no longer feeling any pain. Here's to my friends!

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

I'd Drive a Vulva


Last night I did a favor for my mother by venturing into Wal-Mart to get XBox 360 games for her. She's totally hardcore into the scene buying them for my nephew for Christmas. SF conveniently fell asleep so I had to do her dirty work. I pulled in next to this heinous beauty. Some beotch actually beeped at me to get the fvck out of her way so she could get into the parking space. I just smiled and walked into Hell.

Seriously, you couldn't pay me enough money to drive this Pepto-Bismal dismal bismark. I'd rather drive a Hunter Orange Pontiac Aztec. I think the slogan for this should be,

"Wouldn't you really rather drive a vulva?" or

"No, it's not a Volvo, it's a vulva!"

YAY! YIPPEE! YAHOO! As I was typing this I received a phone call from the CVA and they accepted one of my pieces for their Midwest Winter Exhibition! So, what I'm saying is, under the right circumstances, I could be persuaded to drive ANYTHING, even this dog dick wonder. YIPPPPPEEEEEEEEE!

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Be Back Soon

I just wanna say, I love the fact that Markie Post has just said no plastic surgery and looks fvcking fabulous. Brava, sister. I also wanna say that a few glasses of Gallo Twin Valley Cabernet, can make me melancholy to the point that I enjoyed "Holiday in Handcuffs" and found Melissa Joan Heart as my hero, and Mario Lopez a dreamboat. Jeeeeeeeezzzzzzuuuuus. I'm a sick, sad puppy. Thanks for letting my dogs out.

Friday, December 07, 2007


Have you ever blown the whistle on a steam train?
I highly suggest it.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Kiss the Baby, Daddy


'Tis the Season

I found this on Autumn's Mom's site:

I will send a handmade gift to the first 3 people who leave a comment on my blog requesting to join this PIF(pay it forward) exchange. I don’t know what that gift will be yet and you may not receive it tomorrow or next week, but you will receive it within 365 days. That is my promise. The only thing you have to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog.

This shouldn't be to hard for me to fulfill. I'm a giver. Any takers?

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Less Ass, More Breath

Sweet Little Ass Breath is getting his teeth cleaned today.
I hope it all goes well. I just love my lil' Chidle.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Sunday, December 02, 2007


Tonight was the night to drop off and hang our work for the Holiday Spirits show. On Friday, my friend told me drop off was 'five to seven.' The Polish girl in me translated this as 6:55 PM. Well, of course she meant BETWEEN 5 and 7 PM. FUUUUUUUCK.

Oh, and it's in a liquor store. So if you're looking for my angel, he's hanging above the 'mass produced beers' cooler and guarding the Miller Products. I guess I shouldn't have dissed those fvcking dustcatchers.