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Go Nigel, Go!
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Would You Like To Buy My Monkeys?
Aug
20
We have a new family member. Meet Jasper:
I know what you’re thinking, “Another cat? Don’t you have, like, a million? And aren’t you allergic, you damn fool?”
And I say, yeah.
And you’re wondering how this happened. I’ll give you the short version: I’m a sucker.
That’s also why I’ve let my 3-year old take over my iPod. (Click here for 37 seconds of Julia listening to her new favorite song “Fox on the Run” by Sweet.)
While visiting family over the weekend, I learned that Jasper had been slated for either A) death by gunshot or B) abandonment in the middle of nowhere. My mother and I suggested secret option C) Jasper comes to live in our happy home.
Now he’s here. And he’s wonderful. I love Jasper!
So does Julia.
If you ask Dave about it, he’ll grumble a little. But look at this:
Dave loves Jasper, too.
And yes, Dave is wearing a shirt that says:
The Man. The Myth.
The Legend.
Oh baby, is he ever.
Aug
18
Two
by Leslie
These are two of my cats - Tico (looking at the camera) and Rembrandt (snoozing soundly). They are the perfect subjects for this Photo Hunt theme because these “two” are inseparable. And almost identical.
Aug
16
Blame It On The Rain
by Leslie
Or me. I deserve it. Really, I do.
I even have a button to prove that I am worthy of it. See:
That button represents an award. The Blame It On This Blog Award.
The Blame It On This Blog Award is the brain child of bloggers Jenn in Holland, Soccer Mom in Denial, Jami at Not That Different and Fourier Analyist and is meant to bestow blame upon deserving bloggers for actions that capture your hearts and minds and hold them hostage in a tortuous prison for days, even weeks. You know, things like The Haiku Buckaroo Contest.
I am deeply honored and priviliged to be, not only the recipient, but the inspiration for such an award. Not only does this boost my self-esteem and inflate my ego, it provides me with validation that my blog is relevant. Not so long ago, I posed the question, “If a woman blogs, but no one reads it, does it really exist?” Today, I know it does.
Blame like this doesn’t come easy. There are many people who have helped along the way. I’d like to thank every participant in The Haiku Buckaroo contest. Without you, there would have been no buzz. And without some buzz, there would be no blame. I’d like to thank my family for their encouragement and support, especially my mother for the advice, “You’ve got something there with that haiku.” I thank the poetic genius that gave us haiku and I thank God for giving us so much to haiku about. Most of all, I’d like to thank Jenn in Holland, Soccer Mom in Denial, Jami at Not That Different and Fourier Analyist for seeing fit to recognize me in this way. I dedicate this to you:
Aug
15
I hosted the playgroup today. Did you read that?
I hosted THE PLAYGROUP today.
It went down here. At my house. Where I live. In my very own environment.
Mothers brought their children to hang out with my child in our natural habitat. In our crib. In our casa (they tell me that’s Spanish for house. Or Italian. Whatever you prefer).
Why didn’t I tell you about this yesterday, you ask? Well, you know how much I freak out about playgroup on a regular day. Can you imagine the torture I’ve been putting myself through? Okay, whatever you’re imagining, multiply that by infinity.
Mainly, I focused all my crazy into cleaning. I cleaned every single toy Julia owns. If I couldn’t clean them to my satisfaction, out they went. Just so you know, my satisfaction meant just like new. Then, I organized the clean toys first by function, then size and color. It was very serious business. And I didn’t even consider at 3 a.m. this morning as I was sorting Mr. Potato head parts that I might be going a little overboard. It had to be done. As I washed down walls, scrubbed the floor on my hands and knees and cleaned the windows, my family tried to reassure me that the playgroup members would have fun regardless of how clean my heating ducts were. Deep down, I knew they would. Because they were coming to be with Julia and Julia is fun. But, I wanted to have fun, too. I knew I couldn’t have fun unless my house was so clean we could do emergency surgery in there.
And it didn’t just start yesterday. I’ve had Dave working like a slave out in the yard for five days. All of that so I could say, “I’m sorry things are such a mess.”
Who am I kidding? The house doesn’t get better than this. I had to call myself on my own fib and admit that I cleaned all night because I so wanted them to come and enjoy being there.
In addition to providing the play place, I was also responsible for providing snacks. I bought a fruit tray, a veggie tray, Keebler Snack Stix and offered beverages from my cool-beaner cooler thingy on the porch. I offered juice, water and pop (you know, for the grown-ups). Reasonable, huh? You cannot imagine the restraint it took to keep it that simple. I agonized over the snack decision. In the grocery store. I stood there in the beverage aisle, “Okay, water. I should definitely have water out. And some juice for the kids. 100% juice, though. Apple. Well, maybe everyone doesn’t like apple? I’ll get white grape, too. Hmmm, maybe a fruit punch? I’ll get pop, too. I like pop. I better get something else, though. Not all the moms drink pop. Lemonade! Yeah! And tea. They like iced tea. Hmmm…but I shouldn’t just get one kind of pop. What if they don’t like diet?” Eventually, when my cart was overflowing with drinks, I decided I better tone it down. I needed to make room for the food part. I think I did pretty well, although the fight I had with myself at the IGA was pretty severe. It lasted five aisles and by the time I reached the cashier, she seemed a little scared of me. And when she had to ask me if I wanted the 7 pound bag of ice or the 22 pound, I almost felt sorry for her as I weighed the pros and cons of each as if the fate of the planet would be determined by this decision. All she wanted was to get this weirdo who keeps talking to herself the hell outta there. But somehow, it felt like the most important decision in the world to me. I mean, if I screwed up the ice, they may never let me host playgroup again!
After all the preparation for this day - cleaning the house, organizing the toys, doing the yard work - I thought I’d covered everything. I’d eliminated all evidence that we owned pets - you couldn’t find a single cat hair on the couch or piece of poop in the yard. Then moments after everyone arrived, my cat Emily brought us a snake.
Anyone want a cat? Stinkin’ cat.
But, still. Fun was had. The kids played in the playhouse, dug in the sandbox, bounced balls, slid down the slide, rode the Barbie Jeep, jumped in the baby pool and slipped on the slip ‘n slide. They ate fruit and veggies and crackers and drank juice. They thought the snake was awesome. The played in the play room. They played in Julia’s bedroom. They played all over this land.
And now that it’s over, I suddenly feel the ache in my feet. And my legs. And my shoulders. And my head, too. I realized I have an underboob heat rash. I have a chemical burn on my hands from all the cleansers I used. And dammit, I’m hungry. But it was worth it. I hope they come back.
Aug
14
Last week, Dave revived his blog - My Grimm Reality - after a two month slumber. Once his comeback post was published, he dropped a few hints meant to inspire me to mention his return to the blog here at my place.
I didn’t get the hint.
The following day, he posted again. The subject matter: his lust for my breasts. Then, he quietly asked, “Honey, do you think you can put a little something on your blog to send some readers my way?”
I said okay, but I still didn’t do it. (It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he portrays me as a zit-wearing, wolf bait dropping, bathroom invader in his post.)
The following day, he posted. He asked me for a link. I slapped my head and chastised myself for forgetting and agreed to do it on my next post.
Then, I didn’t.
Today, he posted again. This time he didn’t ask for a link. He is now withholding sex and using farts as weapons (any of you who have experienced a blanket bomb in bed know just how serious this is). He has also threatened to steal all my Diet Dr. Pepper and hide my debit card. And so…
Here is the link to the blog. You know, Dave’s Blog.
I just wanted to make you all aware of the blog. I’m talking about Dave’s blog.
The blog you can read if you click here.
And just in case you missed it, the link to his blog is here. And here.
Aug
13
And The Haiku Buckaroo Is…
by Leslie
Well, I can’t just blurt it out, can I? Don’t worry, I’ll get to it soon. Or you could scroll to the bottom, but then you’d miss out on all the other stuff I’ve got to tell you. And it’d be a little like cheating or something.
First, I’ve got to thank our fabulous judge Laurie who took on the task of choosing one winner from 110 different haiku submitted by more than 30 participants. It was no easy task! As I compiled the lot of them for her to read, ensuring all identifying marks were removed, I started to realize that I’d really asked a lot of her. Still, she took on the job with great seriousness and enthusiasm. Thank you so much Laurie!
And you guys….wow. Your haiku were amazing! What was even better than that was the haiku fever that swept through the internets like a virus. A really fun virus. Haiku entries inspired haiku comments and we were all dancing to the beat of the 5-7-5 drum. What fun! I think we’ll have to do this again. What do you think? Perhaps we’ll make it a semi-annual event. August and February? That would work great for me because that’s when I have to get my engagement ring cleaned and it’d help me remember.
Now, on to the results of the first official Haiku Buckaroo Contest.
First, the finalists. Laurie narrowed it down from 110 to the following 14:
Mmmm. Ribs for dinner.
Fingers are made for lickin’.
Who needs a washcloth?
Wet spot on the floor
Damn dog peed on the carpet.
Bye-bye deposit.
In the dusty room
A broken piano leans.
No more music here.
and
Sky sits on wave tops.
Surf swishes across lands end.
Wind sifts out fine sands.
and
The slowly crawling
Cars, buses, trucks and trailers.
This is called rush hour?
Code cutoff rejoice!
But, wait. It will not install.
Tears drench my keyboard.
Driver talks on cell,
Applies lipstick at stoplight.
Wonders why I stare.
and
Noisy cicada
Hoping to find his true love
Chirps loudly all day.
and
McDonalds Play Place
Sweaty shoes are discarded.
Kids shriek and tumble.
I leave you to cry
Just a tiny helpless boy
Learning to find sleep.
Procrastination.
The reason I am so late
To the haiku game.
My foot is broken.
Can you Bedazzle a cast?
Mamma needs some bling.
Didn’t want to know.
Doctor let baby’s sex slip.
Now my lips are sealed!!
The phone rings again.
I jump up from the sofa.
Telemarketer.
See how hard her job was?
If you are one of the finalists, feel free to proudly display the super-cool Haiku Buckaroo button on your blog or add it to your resume or print it out and post it on your refrigerator - whatever tickles your fancy. You earned it!
And now…the winner, The Haiku Buckaroo is….(drumroll please)…
In the dusty room
A broken piano leans.
No more music here.
Congratulations Jami! You are the winner of a a Magnetic Poetry Haiku Kit, a Haiku Buckaroo Mug and the super-cool button for your blog.
Thank you to all the contest participants. Let’s do it again in February!
Aug
12
Five Reasons This Post Is Short
by Leslie
- I’m sore and tired from doing a freaking buttload of yard work this weekend.
- I’m busy organizing your entries for The Haiku Buckaroo Contest. Holy heck people, did you ever haiku! I’m so glad I’m not the judge. There is no way I could choose a winner.
- I have a date with my husband to watch the Perseid meteor shower that’s going down right now.
- The last time we watched a meteor shower, we did a lot of kissing, so I’ve got to brush my teeth.
- The last time we did a lot of kissing while watching a meteor shower, we ended up having sex, so I’ve got to find the handcuffs and nipple clamps.
Aug
11
A Photo, But Not A Photo Hunt Photo
by Leslie
Normally, I post a picture on Saturday for the Photo Hunt. But, today the theme was “Row” as in, “in a row,” and all I could think about were ducks. I don’t have any pictures of ducks. Or anything else “in a row.” I did have this picture that I wanted to share:
That’s Julia and her kitty, Katie. I just love this picture. I’m not sure exactly why. Maybe it’s because it seems to capture the essence of their relationship - the admiration, the playfulness. Maybe. I just don’t know.
I feel the need to mention that the outfit Julia is wearing was chosen by her.
Aug
9
UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.*
by Leslie
We’re big Dr. Seuss fans in our house. Green Eggs and Ham
Recently, Julia has developed a fascination with the Dr. Seuss book The Lorax
“Read it again.”
And so I read it again and again. We read that book until dinner was ready. While I was getting the food to the table, she was leafing through the pages. After dinner was done, she wanted it one more time. This time, she wanted to talk about it.
“Mom, the Once-ler is so green. He has a scary face.”
If you’ve read the book you know, you never see the Once-ler’s face. Still, Julia went on to describe what his face looked like to her. The story had her wheels turning.
“Mom? Those Bar-ba-loots are hungry? The fish are walking? They’re walking away from the water.”
We talked and talked about what was happening in the story. We talked about the pictures and how the colors change as the trees disappear. She sat in silence, studying the book until her mind filled up and the comments and questions burst forth in a flurry, then it was back to quiet contemplation.
And then I remembered that I had The Lorax on video. I had purchased it long before Julia came along, because I had loved it as a child - I loved it because of those special nights, once a year or so, when The Lorax took the place of regular programming on CBS and the whole family snuggled together on the couch to watch something just for me. So I said, “You know, I have The Lorax on video.”
“Like a movie?”
“Yes.”
She grabbed her book and ran to the family room. I dug out the VHS tape and we popped it into the VCR. She sat on the floor and, just as she’d been during the first read, sat silent, soaking it all up. And that moment - that heartbreaking moment where the Lorax lifts himself up by the seat of his pants and takes leave of that place - the look on her face was priceless. Her eyes were wide and watery, and you could see that this story was changing her, becoming a part of her. I knew then, that even if she doesn’t remember her discovery of The Lorax, at least not like I do, it will be very much a part of who she is, whether she knows it or not.
“Mom, is The Lorax going home?”
“I don’t know where he’s going honey. That was his home, but the trees and the animals are gone now. He has to leave.”
“He doesn’t have a home?”
“I guess not.”
She asked for the video again. While I normally wouldn’t let her sit that long in front of the television, I felt like this was different. She sat there watching, with her book in her lap, working so hard to wrap her head around this story. We talked some more about how the video was different from the book - how they were both The Lorax, but some things were different. But mostly we talked about the trees. I’d never been so thankful for the trees we’d planted on our property this past year. I was glad I could remind her of how we’ve planted trees - trees that give fruit and trees that make shade and trees that will help keep our home healthy. More than anything, I’m thankful that Julia has had the chance to be swept away, challenged and moved by a book like this. I hope this is the first of many.
Aug
8
Do you ever just feel completely inadequate in every possible way? Like everything is just too much and you’re not enough? Physically. Emotionally. Intellectually. Financially. That’s how I’m feeling right now. And it’s ridiculous and it’s completely selfish because no matter what I’m thinking about, it all comes down to me thinking about myself. Obsessing about myself.
At playgroup today, as I looked around at the other moms, I couldn’t stop thinking, “I’m the fattest one in the room. I probably weigh more than any two of these women combined.” I try to console myself by thinking about when I was thinner and cuter, but who cares about what I looked like when I was 17? I don’t even care. Then, I decide I’m going to get back on that diet and exercise everyday…which, I’ve actually been doing for a few days now, the exercising…but, still. I just feel like I’m not skinny enough. I’m not pretty enough.
Then, the kids are playing and having fun. Now and then one of them will do something they shouldn’t and their mother will correct them. I’m in awe of these women who, with their soft and gentle tones, lovingly guide their children toward better behavior. I take notice of their tone because I have just corrected Julia a little too loudly. Too loud and too desperate. I realize I used the kind of voice that might be appropriate when you’re child is in immediate danger - like standing in the path of an oncoming car. But Julia wasn’t in danger. She was just doing something that was annoying to everyone else and was ignoring my request for her to stop. And then I worried - why do I sound like that? Do I sound like that when I talk to her all the time? Am I really about to lose my shit because she isn’t listening, which is absolutely understandable for a 3 year old who is having the time of her life with her friends?
One of my fabulous new playgroup friends is a lawyer and all I can think about is what I’m not. I’m not a lawyer. Hell, I barely completed a semester toward my master’s degree. I listen to the way the moms in the playgroup speak and suddenly I feel very…white trash. I hate the words I choose to use and the sound of my own voice begins to bother me. I realize that, while I’ve been so mindful about whether or not Julia is using her manners, I’ve just interrupted and neglected to say ‘excuse me.’ I feel like a barbarian.
I look around at the house we’re sitting in - at the stainless steel appliances and thoughtful decor. I don’t have stainless steel appliances. I don’t have professional photographs of me gazing lovingly at Julia, of our intertwined hands and her baby feet hung in symmetric patterns around the house. My house has probably never been as clean as this one. At least not for more than twenty minutes. I let Julia eat food in the living room. I even found a piece of peanut butter toast under my hutch last night. It sat there all day, if not for two days. My furniture is not new. My flower beds are in need of weeding. My yard needs landscaped. My piano needs tuned. My counters are not marble.
And while this kind of thinking isn’t the norm for me, today it’s consuming me. It’s eating at my brain and making me sick. While I can tell myself - “So, you weigh more than you should. You have a husband who adores you, who can’t keep his hands off you, who tells you you’re beautiful every day and, more importantly, does all he can to make you feel that way. So, you sounded a little harsh with Julia. She was ignoring you anyway. She just hugged you and said you were the bestest mom in the world. She’s a happy, well-adjusted child. You know that yelling at her isn’t a habit. It was a slip up. Parents slip up. And so, you didn’t complete your master’s degree. So you’re not a doctor or a lawyer. Aren’t you doing exactly what you want in life right now? And your house? Look at it. Look at your home. Isn’t it fabulous? Leslie, look at all you have.” - I still feel crummy.
Pity Party at my house!
Gosh, even I am irritating myself with this.
Ugh.
How can you all stand me?
Oh, and while I’m being all pestiferous - have you entered the Haiku Buckaroo Contest?
*from the 1972 The Cat In The Hat TV Special
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I Write A Haiku Each Day
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Hurts So Good
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Categories
- Daily Haiku
- Mommy’s Stuff
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You Should Do This
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Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
