How Now Brown Cow

Kiss My Ass Direct TV

Dear Direct Tv and your sleazy subcontractor Premier Communications,

Thanks for making me wait for over two weeks to receive your overpriced service and then to find out that there is "no line of sight" when you've already installed one dish on my house years ago(and I've had your service) is a total crock of shit. Nevermind that when you were supposed to show up btwn 12-4 it was 5:15. Dickheads. I hate you. I hate you for making me wait and then pissing out on the deal. If I could, I'd smack your docile customer service reps that say "uh huh and I'm sorry you feel that way". Fuckers.

I realize it's winter, but if your lazy 'roid ridden ass won't scale a ladder to do what's right then look for another job. Pissheads. Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

Mandalay Prefers Lavender

Electric Nest Warmer

by Mary Robinson
you can just barely see the three prong cord to the right...

D Day

I feel like a filthy, dirty whore. Tomorrow is the day when Direct TV HD gets piped in to the casa. Only one receiver and no Tivo. I have to draw the line somewhere. I do have my pride. If you're looking for me, I'll be over at Bravo.

Paunch & Cookies

Yesterday my mom and I stopped at a little place for some thrifting. We were downstairs looking at glassware when I was reminded of the fact that I'd make punch for SF's birthday. My mom used to have a cool punch bowl but got rid of it over the years.

A sweet lady overheard us and chimed in, "I have a punch bowl. It's antique and it's just sitting there."

"I'm sure you'd want more than I was willing to pay," I smiled.

"No, you can have it" she said.

We live in the same town so last night, by the time the front doorbell rang I had already forgotten about it and thought 'who the hell would be ringing the front doorbell?'

It was her with my new old punch bowl. I thanked her and she saw SF. He said thanks too. I washed it and it's cool, heavy glass. I told my mom I was going to bring back the adult punch bowl party. But I really don't need anymore punch in my paunch.

Why can't I just be slim and happy and brainless...switch to autopilot and become almost zombie like in my weight loss approach? The answer is very, very simple...I like food.

Crazy (by crazy I mean train...)

This is me flying down Grand Ave shooting pictures at 35 MPH. This guy lived downstairs from my friend. He's given to whimsical moments of kicking his bike out in traffic and bitching aloud about nonsense only he understands. Poor fella. She said he was faking it.

I had a few glasses of vino and about five or six dark chocolate fake De Met's(by fake I mean Nestle) turtles. Thanks for fucking up a good thing Nestle. Snowflake(by SF I mean me) had to do a "Peace Report" featuring a country of his nationality. He won't tell you that he picked Poland. He'll say he picked "Polish". He ( I mean me) had to take a cereal box and decorate it with fervor. I put SF shirtless in goggles wearing his striped pants standing in front of the Polish flag (using CS2) and listed famous Poles, including the North and the South. Har Har. (and Hot Lips Houlihan). On the reverse is Falat's self portrait from 1896(on the side he's with SF conferring).

Getting to the point, tomorrow we are invited to come and view the cereal boxes at school. Yes, my hair bristles at the thought. If I had a big fattie (by big fattie I mean marijuana joint, by joint I mean cigarillo, by cigarillo I mean cigarette), I might have just indulged myself before school. Something I have never done. I think Julian(by Julian I mean Falat) is sexy and says, "why not Ms Mamma, why not?" Keeess me you fool. Maybe I will Julian, maybe I will. XO


ps...this weekend my mom said I looked like "that rock star, oh you know... the one...the rock star she said, married to Sharon, you know" with my round sunglasses on.

Little Blue Dreamers

Erehwon in Winter

My English Love

I finally bought something I blogged about. Instead of procrastinating and dilly-dallying, I went on a hunt. I always thought I wanted a Dualit toaster. They're classically cool looking and world famous. But unlike days of old, their parts are now outsourced and then they are "hand assembled" in the UK. Well, that's just not acceptable, bub. I wanted the real deal. So after weeks of searching, I found it. It just magically appeared.



I found a brand new commercial Rowlett toaster on Ebay. The starting bid was higher than most Dualits but no one else bid on it. Happy Friggin' Birthday to Me! If I actually had to buy this from a company that shipped them from the UK to the US it would have cost me around $500 for this hunk of chrome goodness.



OMG. I love it. It's totally gorgeous and unlike the 'other inferior English toasters' this is actually handmade.

The slots are so wide I can put whole English Muffins or Bagels in! It toasts to perfection. I love the cool Nixie tube it has just above the dial when it's working hard to complete my order. It has a pleasant DING! when the item is done. Unlike regular toasters, your stuff stays down in the innards of the toaster until you push the plunger to retrieve it.



Talk about warm fuzzies. I've got 'em.

There's a flashy little brochure the toaster came with plugging the Rowlett 'lifestyle' complete with quotes from famous English writers like George Bernard Shaw:

"There is no love sincerer than the love of food." Don't I know it.

My Funny Valentine

Sincerely, MsMamma

Maybe I've been in denial that I've had another birthday. Thanks for the good wishes. My friend Dennis said I didn't look a day over 32. Beggars can't be choosers so I guess I'll take that. I've been preoccupied with maybe buying an LCD TV and then I think 'what the hell are you thinking' when I could really use a new Mac more than anything. But still, eventhough I don't have any "services", I'm sick of the 13" Sponge Bob and it's ugly twin, a big black 20" Sony from 1991. Such is the life of the enigma MsMamma.

Maybe a new tattoo is in order. 'Scuse me. I have some paint I have to watch dry.

Don't Lick Me

She is like the sacred truffle sniffing pig of Fronce. Yes, Fronce! As she clomps through the fresh deep snow like an aimless tiny landship in search of buried treasure, she finds her joie de vivre in the tiny caper like orbs left behind out of the behind of some rabbit's ass. She delights in its pungent aroma(its secret known only to her) and simplicity(she hasn't gagged on one yet) throwing caution to the wind as she gobbles it down.

Friday Night Birthday

Snowflake had a really great day at school. I was so happy, especially after spending the morning reading "Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Lives of Boys". It's an amazing book. My friend had seen the PBS special and said it was really eye-opening. So far it seems essential to anyone who wants to really understand the difference in which we treat boys and girls from birth. It makes sense. I can see the lives of my brothers in this book. Especially my brother who is no longer alive.

I had bought a new DoughMakers 9" square baking pan. Why? When I showed it to SF he suggested we make a birthday cake and celebrate. That sounded good to me. Together we made an Irish Butter Cake with Irish Cream Cheese Frosting.

We had to go to the store because the only baking powder I had was from my polish granny circa early 90's. The hilarious thing is that she gave it to me in 1994 and it expired in 1989. It's in a cool old metal can. I ended up buying more Kerrygold butter and some Droste Dutch process cocoa because I'm feeling very epicurian lately. It's nice to have with my Madagascar Bourbon Vanilla. Whatev.

It was delish and the first cake I've made from scratch(or in my home for that matter). Love the new pan. He put the candles on and I lit them up. He blew them out with gusto as we celebrated his third birthday for the second and probably the last time. Afterwards I sang Happy Birthday to him and he blushed. Happy Birthday my creative, curious and boistrous babe. I love you my sweet little baby boy.

I Am Flower* (hear me roar)

But not a meercat.

I wish I would have looked more closely at the books I bought at B & N on Sunday. Unknowingly, but knowing, I bought two books by Dr. James Dobson- The New Strong Willed Child and Bringing Up Boys. I started with TNSWC and found SF isn't really what he classically describes(thank Allah). Last night I turned to the chapter in BUB on The Causes of Homosexuality and then The Single Parent and Grandparents.

OMG. My blood just started to boil. Little did I know I purchased books from a man who thinks homosexuality is a treatable 'disorder'. And rather than giving real solutions for single mothers, he goes into a story about how his own wife came from a broken home. He continues on by saying that his wife's mother prayed for a good man to come along and take care of them. What do you know? It happened and he's been a loving father-inlaw for over 40 years. Apparently if SF spends too much time with me, that's unhealthy and he really needs a man to show him the way in the world.

There are even a couple of pages he devotes to some reformed liberal now confirmed right wing dipshit who finally relented and let her boys play with toy guns after a bonding trip to Gettysburg. I could go on and on, but why bother? According to Mr. Dobson, I am royally screwed. With these odds I'm sure SF will be a flowery flouncing homo if I don't get a good man into his life soon or he'll be in prison eventually. Well Mr. Dobson, I disagree. Focus on my middle finger.

Blue Italian

I just hate it when people I like get involved with assholes. Assholes who take advantage of their ideas, their hard work and claim them as their own. These are the same assholes who want everything for free and when you expect them to pay for something they usually exclaim "non profit". Assholes.

Italian Blue

A little late night madness.


A message to Snowflake and his sassmouth.


Now, that's better.


Next: some new mod furniture to funk the joint up...

Green

This afternoon I went to open the refridgerator for the pizza from last night. I ate a piece and I sensed a weird astringent scent. Ick. I opened the frigidare(my polish granny's usual name for it) and investigated. Cabbage was firm and fine but I tossed it anyway. Romas were alright but being paranoid I threw them away. That left the crisper... There in the twilight of its age sat a deflated clementine hiding its hideous secret. It was green, GREEN! Green like only freakish mold can be and it smelled like, like the sterile vault of some Doctor's office from childhood. Swabs...the most pristine Q-Tip imagined...almost like the liquid nitrogen they freeze warts off with. Mmm...

On Sucking

It's amazing how not working takes away from my blogging time. Seriously. The last thing I feel like spending time with is the computer, even though it's my sweet ancient baby in terms of its age and speed. I've had every intention of writing about the wonderful and beautiful scarf I received from LaLuna and the cool recycled bags Chrissy sent from the real Northwoods. I will get to it with pictures, I promise!

Bah. I spent the weekend painting my mom's living room. It's a big bastard of a room with 12 ft ceilings and we're both short, so it was a taxing nightmare. Special thanks go to GlamGranola for borrowing us her six foot plus ladder/husband. We couldn't have done it without you, Pedro!

Beyond the blue was a seriously demanding Sunday with SF that left me spending the $100 my mom gave me for helping her on parenting books from Barnes & Noble. No, I don't want your damn discount card for $25. You'd save $6...no effing thank you. But really, I'm okay.

I have figured the trick to controlling SF's behavior is via his access to the vacuum. Yes, the vacuum. He knows the difference between a Dyson, a Hoover, a Cone, a Shark and an Oreck. And he loves them all deeply. For good behavior he gets to vacuum after school. And if he isn't a good little drone, he won't have access. For him it will totally suck. How ironic.

One (of the many) Thing(s) I Hate About You

I knew it was premature of me to go to an employment service with the hope of being referred to a job that I thought I'd be perfect for. Instead it just crystallized how much I despise this shit hole that I reluctantly came back to after college. People can beam on and on about why they love it here and all of that quality of life bullshit, but the fact remains that this is a cliquey little berg and if you're not an ass kisser, forget it.

It's like the movie "It's Pat"-

Access Denied. Access Denied.

(Think fat ass office casual wearing a turtleneck and nails that were just too long for a man.)

Horses Whisper

I Was Happy, I Was Sad

It was a day of cleansing. I bought a vaccum and scoured the house. Then I scrubbed. I felt good because I took the dinero from my Saab and paid off my credit card en toto. That's right, no more 22% interest compounded daily. Adios, assholes. I was happy.

I lit a few candles waiting for my friend to come over. I had PBS on and the BBC World News. I just caught the bit about Heath Ledger. He was brilliant. I was sad.

Maybe it's cruel, but why is it always someone TALENTED, and not like Matthew McConaughey for example? Too sad.

On the Dole

Here I am all out on the dole and I find myself spending money that I shouldn't. It all started on Friday at the artist's reception for the Midwest Winter Exhibition. My photo looked so glam and gorgeous. But...I saw this cool quirky little sculpture and I fell in love and decided to buy it. It's called "Electric Nest Warmer." It's a crazy little copper wire bird embellished with found objects(the beak is a two pronged coat hook, it's feet: two forked serving utensils) and sitting on blue wire nest. There is a big three prong cord sticking out from under the nest. Why, Heidi, why?

On Saturday I felt compelled to spell out Snowflake's full name in adorable letters from tatiri at Target to the tune of $50. WTF. It looks great though. In a flash of buyer's remorse it made me wish I hadn't given him two middle names. Oy.

Today I scored some gingerbread Wiltonware baking tins at a local cook's shop for $2.50 each(normally $10.99). I bought two. Now I can make 18 gingerbread men out of jello, brownie or cookie batter at the same time.

The hilarious bit? I've lived in my house for 14 years and I have NEVER made cookies ONCE.

Then it was on to Target to look for a decent stick vac. I'm sick of lugging in the Shop-Vac from the garage and then hulking it upstairs to get the daily infestation of boxer and pug hair sucked up.

I left without a new vacuum. I came home with a really cute red Isaac Mizrahi party dress($49.99 now only $12.48), a really cute camisole by the same($27 now only $6.98), a Bodum hot chocolate maker frother pot($29.99 now $7.48), four dark chocolate candy bars to make said chocolate and a couple of insulated covered cups to put that or whtaever SF drinks in the livingroom so it doesn't spill all over.

I can see myself now, all June Cleaver in the kitchen, apron tied on to protect that fancy dress as I toil away baking gingerbread man shaped chocolate chip cookies. Man, I love unemployment! It's definitely not pineapple. But it's sweet.

I'm a Member

After waking up at an unusual time and feeling nauseous, the morning progressed into a panicky state of breathing and substances exploding out of both ends. Well Annie, it looks like I've finally joined The Club.

Wisconsin Christmas Tree

Shake Your Tail Feather

Ghost in the Machine

I hate feeling stupid for something I thought. Tonight I told my mother that it sucks when there isn't one person in the world that totally digs you. After my Christmas party I found a shirt that reminded me of someone. I inquired if it belonged to anyone and no soul claimed it. It smells so good. As I was driving home alone, I thought about how lovely gray flannel is and wept. In the background:

Just between you
Just between you and me.

Street Urchin Scrounge

This afternoon while I was looking for 'jobs' I ate some raw sugar snap peas. It must have been a shock to my system to have all of that greeness come down the pipe. That, or the Guatemalan poop used to fertilize them at 6000 feet. I was nauseous. I ate a cracker. I watched part of the movie "Thirteen".

Suddenly it was time to pick up my little sprite and I dashed out the door, ready to spew at any second. On the way there I noticed the debris of some expunged renter. A mountain of cast-offs piled the boulevard. I spied a Red Wagon and thought hmm...

As SF's teacher was buckling him in, I urged him to quickly cooperate so we could check out the curbside treasure before someone else snatched it up. I hopped out and it looked nice, almost new. Damn, one front wheel was missing! Consulting SF, I asked him if we should take it anyway and try to find a replacement part.

When we got home, I flipped it over and discovered a 1-800 number on the bottom along with the model and date of manufacture. Sure as shit, we have a new wheel on the way for $9.57 including shipping. The gods are smiling on me today. Perfect cure for nausea.

Woobies and Such

I usually only wear cashmere sweaters. Years of shopping at TJ Maxx after Christmas have allowed me to acquire a nice assortment. However, my favorite charcoal gray v-neck had been forgotten in the bowels of the basement for too long. I wore it so much that it now has a Tom Waits in The Fisher King kind of look to it. At the cuffs are tears that allow me to stretch them, hook them, around my thumbs lending a nice ragamuffin flair.

Well, I finally picked it up off the floor and washed it. The unseen and mysterious fabric eating creatures of that familar dungeon have left their mark by eating a nice grouping of holes at the midsection. I'll still wear it though. I don't give favorites up easily. Sometimes never.

Freaking Out = Stocking Up!

The morning of week #2 started well enough. Drop SF off and go to the Y. Worked out and decided to go to 'Big Lots' for 'reasonable', almost expired foodstuffs. I spent about $46 and got a plethora of organic food including Muir Glen soup and Barenaked Granola. Then I went and got a large size vanilla iced coffee.

I decided I should check out "Aldi" since I've never been and I'm watching my cents. Not the store for me. I didn't buy a thing. Then it was on to WalMart's evil seductor, Sam's Club where I bought water and some other things that totalled $136. Hmmmm, yeah. Thirty tablets of Airborne and the Princess Bride...

It was on to the grocery store for a few small things like chocolate Silk and fruit. The cart was full of perishables and came to $116. I did get a big bottle of zinfandel(not the girl drink drunk kind...this is RED, RED, RED).

I'm stocked up. Now all I gotta do is cook! Uh oh.

When You Have Water

You may as well make snow.

This was from last week. We're now in the middle of our annual January thaw. Total weirdness for Wisconsin. Usually we're wearing shorts when it hits 40 in the Spring.

Saab Story

Last Friday I sold the Saab to a friend of mine. I suppose it couldn't have happened at a better time. I loved that car, but gone with it goes all of the memories almost forgotten. I borrowed that car to SF's other person a few times and there was a cigarette burn(yeah, thanks for being so careful...) that I looked at every time I drove the car. Boo Hoo.

Well, here I go again(on my own) to take SF to school in my 'jamas. I think I'll get some Joe and drive around for awhile. Good morning! Good morning! Good morning, morning, morning, to you! (sing it with me)

Getting Dressed

Well, I'm off to take SF to school. Today I actually have to make myself presentable and drop off my photo at The Center for Visual Arts. I had a dream last night that I was late in getting it to them and I couldn't be in the show. I think I'll come home take a quick nap and then get going. Maybe I'll make some coffee. Annie, get your gumption.*

*note to self

Dressing

You know what I love? That tasty crazy salad dressing you get at a Japanese restaurant on plain old iceberg lettuce(okay maybe it's just Japanese restaurants in Wisconsin?!). You know, it's like pumpkin colored and it probably has ginger and garlic in it. Does anyone know how to make this? I'll love you long time, if you do.

I Don't Know

...if it was a combination of the leftover brandy slush, one Drixoral and three Excedrin PM's, but I slept for 12 hours. I haven't done that in a bazillion years. My mystery illness has vanished upon waking, more so, no more sore throat! I could cry out of sheer joy! A miracle! I have to say, the sun is shining(for reals), the laundry is done(and folded and put away) and the trash is thrown out. I feel so rested and refreshed. I'm going skating. Happy New Year!

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.

SK8R BOY

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!

A Deep Cleansing Breath

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

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.

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.

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.

Free Trade

I traded this t-shirt:



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!

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!

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.

Oh, the NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

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

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?

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.

Today I Feel...

Winter Flowers

Doh!

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.

Thursday Morning Spew

Maybe it's assy of me, but I despise Dreamcatchers. I find them so unattractive in their dust catching design. I dislike the 'mini' ones hanging from rear-view mirrors. Earrings and the like make me gag. Don't EVEN get me started on the big fake wall hanging size 'made in china' ones with the faux turquoise beads you find at a Liquidator store(right next to the resin headed bust of a Navajo Chief). They're just a more elaborate version of all the feathered roach clips I got at the county fair when I was a kid.

On Rear Ends & Happy Dances

See Snowflake. You can tell he's psyched because his gorgeous bedding showed up from Boodalee. It is so cute in fact, that I couldn't wait for him to get a twin size bed. I have to thank ModMom once again for her sumptuous and cool giveaways! And for reminding me to squeeze los limones on a regular basis.



I was so excited about making my Christmas cards on Monday that I rearended someone on the way to the printer. I just tapped him though. Just enough to dent the tailgate on his vintage '92 Cabriolet. FVCK.



Fast forward to today and I just had a large size image matted and framed of the devil in disguise. I completely changed what I'm submitting to the Holiday Show. I think I might be winning some monet, monay, mooooaaaaannaaaaaay! Then again, maybe I just got rear-ended.

Christmas Card?

An Angel when he sleeps.

Where Snowflake Got His Wings

I Dreamt of Bedford Falls

And decorated streets lit after midnight
whispering
In the quiet hush of swirling snow.

Run for the Hills

Happy Thansgiving! Open season on Insanity starts today!

What You Can

Alone, I indulged in the virtues of an empty house. Indulgence can take many forms and afterwards I felt like taking in Tideland. I began to watch. But something was missing and my mind kept wandering across the house to the lonely new cartons of Vanilla Hagen Daz hibernating in the freezer just waiting for their Thanksgiving debut with Pecan or Apple Cranberry pie.

Ice cream needs chocolate. I have no chocolate, I thought to myself. Wait, what about the Nutella? Yes. What about the Nutella. I took a huge, mountainous spoon of Nutella and dropped it into a shiny blue Le Crueset pot. I added a pat of salted butter and some Chocolate Silk soy milk. Whisk! Whisk! Whisk! Soon it was one smooth, satiny warm velvet river of wanton lust.

I poured it all over the pristine creamy white round scoops. Wait, more, more, something more. Yes! The fresh new can of cocktail peanuts sighed in ecstasy as I peeled open the cover and dropped their salted bodies liberally into the love.

I turned Tideland back on and as I ate that improvised Sundae(seriously mmmmmmming and ooooooing all the while), I realized that it was better than ANY sex I've ever had. EVER.

Which brings me back to Tideland. This film really didn't need the directors "Gentle Viewer" message at the beginning. This was a period piece. Hardcore 1970's, combining a stunning visual experience with a touch of the macabre. Could this be what it's like to be in a Wyeth painting? Only sometimes. There are elements of Alice in Wonderland combined with a little human taxidermy. Flannery O'Connor could have wrote this had she lived in Haight Ashbury in the late 60's and sucked on a sugar cube.

Like it or not, it's all about coping mechanisms. So when life hands you lemons, make a Sundae. Improvise.

Bound & Gagged

And headed your way.