You all should be so proud of me. I’ve completed so much work-related work in the past few days and have only read a few blogs. Um, except for today. You know, just not right NOW.
For my next trick, I will pay the mortgage and monthly bills using an isufficient amount of money. How will I do it? I… um… don’t have an answer for that one. Act of God? Holiday Miracle? Mysterious Benefactor? I’m entertaining all of these realistic and viable options. Make with the ladies’ mag topics, already!
Having run out of the regular pink-ish eye shadow I’ve worn every single day for, like, three years, I tried some brown-ish of the same brand and have re-arrived at the conclusion that I should not wear eye shadow of any kind of actual color, because by 10 in the morning it has all collected under my eyes and I look like the walking dead, or a prize fighter, or a prize fighter that has not slept in 6 weeks. Does this happen to normal people and is there some kind of trick I’m missing? I find that it is common in my life to have missed a key piece of ladylike information that was passed around during my high-school years, like the existence of eyelash curlers or non-gigantic underpants, as I was busy hanging out with the speech team and the gay boys, and the hot tips weren’t so much circulated my way.
I sat down and turned on the television during Bird’s afternoon nap the other day, which is something I try very hard not to do, due to the time suckage. I watched an early episode of Friends, and all I can say is that if the fashion of the nineties ever makes a comeback, I will spend that period of time retching and gagging and shielding my eyes. What did we have against men’s shoulders, dressing them in shapeless sport-jackets 3 sizes too big? And what of the hair? THE HAIR?!?! And I can’t even talk about THE BODYSUITS! Those are onesies, folks. Onesies. Let’s band together and not let them come back, ever.
I have a fancy hair appointment tomorrow morning. I will be cashing in a year-old gift certificate I received from dear friends to celebrate Birdy’s birth. I am considering a return to the “Short n’ Sassy.” This growing-out is so boring, and I get the feeling it’s a preview of the boring end-result, which will make me, at some point, so bored that I will go for the short n’ sassy anyway. Thinking maybe I should skip the in-between and go straight for the fit-of-madness short cut. But, knowing that I am going to a top-notch salon and that I will probably never be back, is it wise to go for the short-short when it can’t be maintained by its creator? And remember when I said I should write down all the reasons I don’t want to cut my hair short again? I didn’t do that. And now I don’t remember any of them.
Now that I know I shouldn’t buy Horizon Organic milk, what are my alternatives? Kroger carries some Naturally Preferred organic, but I’m 99% sure that’s code for Kroger Brand and I can’t imagine they’re doing much better. Any other ideas, or do I have to schlep across town to buy milk at the fancy store? I don’t even like having milk in the house, to be honest. But the Bird, she has some myelin sheathing to nourish around her little nervies, and far be it from me to hold her back from that.
Yesterday I purchased the new issues of Bust and ReadyMade. And earlier this week found this site and its many links and projects. Can I tell you what happens when I sit down and page through these magazines during naptime at turbo-speed (especially the little ads for hipster-made hipster goods?* FHBH?) I nearly hyperventilate, that’s what happens.
I so miss crafting. I even miss failing at crafting, though cigarettes were a fabulous remedy for crushing failure or hair-pulling-out frustration, and they are, sadly, no longer in the picture. I try to memorize and store all of these fantastic ideas and products in my already overflowing brain, I pine and wish and pray for a Gocco, I get nauseous and panicky trying to remember that one thing I saw that I swore I was going to do because it would just be so easy if I could find space for the sewing machine that used to live in what became the nursery. (and, to take it to the next level, the time and thought spent on the crafting is now spent on the parenting, just like the room-and-stuff conversion). I don’t resent Bird for replacing my crafting, but when I am reaquainted with it in these hurried and sporadic moments it all reactivates and makes my head spin. Error. Error. Error.
I want to stay home all day and snuggle the Bird and make delicious organic food and listen to NPR and make arty things. But you knew that.
*This is two links, folks. I can’t figure out how to separate ’em.
That Bird, though. She is like a fine wine, I tell you. As soon as I think we are at the stage that is the hands-down BEST, and that she should definitely not get any bigger because she could not be any more enjoyable and sweet and hilarious, she ages a little, learns something new (hello, Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes!) and gets even better. She is a silly, silly creature and I still wonder how she found her way to us.