The New Girl

Fun Fact Friday! (Spooooky Halloween Edition)

* I super-double LOVE getting dressed up for Halloween.  It's only been the last couple years *cough*badbaby*cough* that I haven't gone all out.

* I don't have a very good recollection of my Halloween costumes until I hit my teenage years.  One stand-out from when I was a kid, though, was a Red Rabbit costume that my mother made me, complete with a little hood attachment, with, you know, the long ears and little mitten-like things, for--uh--paws or whatever.  The Little Sister was a PINK Rabbit. Somewhere I have a picture and if I was any kind of blogger, I go rooting through my shit to find it for you.

* My most memorable Halloween as a kid was the year that I was fucking sick and couldn't go out trick-or-treating.  THAT?  Fucking SUCKED.  The Little Sister came through (thanks, kid!) and got me some candy but I KNOW that she was pocketing the Reese's PB Cups.  I stayed home and passed out [my germs, em effers] candy in my pink, flowered, bathrobe.

* I am a staunch eat-the-best-candy-first kind of person.  You save-the-best-for-lasters?  I DON'T GET YOU.

* The last time I dressed up for a Halloween Party, (two years ago) I went as Puss n' Boots.  (Totally G-Rated, you perverts.)  I got pirate gear from a Halloween Shop and bought a sword and ears and a tail and then I made my face up as a cat.  It was a huge hit, if I do say so myself.

* My mom always used to get two big pumpkins: A taller, ovalish one and a squat, round one.  She laid out newspaper and we carved them with the triangle eyes and all that and then put a candle inside.  She roasted and salted the seeds and it seemed like a cool treat.  I remember the squishy, cold feeling of the pumpkin guts.

* Every time I type pumpkin, I put a 'g' on the end.  WTF?

* I despise scary movies, slasher movies or movies that are designed to startle you on purpose.

* I do, however, like psychological thrillers.  Even though sometimes I have to close my eyes.  AND they can't be too gory.  (Think Silence of the Lambs vs. Nightmare on Elm Street.)

* I screwed the pooch this year re: getting decorations for Halloween.  The Decoration Situation is, aah, a Desperation Situation.  For real.  Just a little Pumpkin Family out on the front porch.  Not even carved, man! Yummy seeds still inside!  (Bonus fun fact: I am AGAINST The Painted Pumpkin.) 

* I TOTALLY remember having to Trick-or-Treat in the daytime one year, after someone supposedly found a pin or whatever in an apple that they got while Trick-or-Treating the year before.  HA!  A fucking apple!  Like they were going to eat it anyway. 

* That same year, we had to take the candy to the hospital to get it x-rayed, just to be EXTRA-SUPAH SURE that some double-brazen-daylight-candy-saboteur didn't manage to slip a razor-blade-popcorn-ball past us.  I'm not even kidding.  Incidentally, there were no metal objects of any kind in my candy.  But now, I glow in the dark.  Spooooky.

Happy Halloween!

The Best First Halloween Costume, EVAH.

Check it:

Can you STAND IT??

Quicker Than A Ray Of Light

There is a subjective nature to the perception of time.  For the purposes of this post, I'm talking about the subjective nature of a person's perception of the passage of time, in particular, the rate at which time passes.

Think about it. 

Five minutes is always five minutes.  But 5 minutes of surfing the net or reading an engrossing book is a whole lot different than say, 5 minutes of listening to anguished cries from your baby after an injury or 5 minutes in the dentist's chair, waiting for the drilling to be finished.  So, what makes time pass quickly or slowly to you?  I suspect that it's different for each individual.  I've already listed a couple of mine. 

But new motherhood is an interesting thing.  For me, the time is passing both slowly AND quickly.  I don't remember where I heard this saying, or if it's just a well-known bit of mother-wisdom but someone once explained the quick/slow time phenomena to me like this: 'The days drag on forever but the years fly by.'

I'm finding this to be true.  The Littlest New Girl's development, once so linear and unidimensional as to be easy to catalog and predict, has progressed into multiple planes--moving from simple 'benchmarks' to the unique, individual characteristics that are the true expressions of personality.  It is at once spine-tingling and awe-inspiring.

I find myself repeatedly saying, 'Isn't she too YOUNG for this?' or 'I feel like she's too little to be doing that.'  I don't think I have these thoughts because she's super-wicked-smart (although, I'm SURE she is) or because her development is advanced (which, uh, it's NOT).  I think it's that my perception of the passage of time is that it has been so, so s-l-o-w in the day to day.  I trudged through that awful pregnancy wishing, Wishing, WISHING away the time.  Ditto for her earliest days. 

And then, quicker than lightning, she's turning into a person.  A person with a sense of humor, who loves to be hung upside down and spun around and startled (she cackles after you sneak up on her and scare the bejeezuz out of her.)  She remembers tons of shit.  She communicates.  She also gets supah-pissed and tries to bite you (it's not all unicorns and rainbows at The New Girl, skimmers).  She throws fits and literally rolled across the floor in anger the other day. She's got a lot of love to give, though. She cuddles and pats her babies.  She rubs a soft palm across my face and leans in for kisses.   

So, yeah.

She's totally becoming.

I'm getting whiplash watching it.

 

Cold Weather Smell-Well

Definition:  Smell-Well is what The Man calls anything that, erm, smells good or is designed to make something else smell good.  Candles, perfume, Feebreeze, what-have-you.  Smell-Well is his catch all term for such things.

When the weather turns cold, a few things happen around here.  One, as I've already told you, is that I start bringing all the outside shit into the house.  So far this year, it's been two sweet little Maple leaves:

The second thing that happens, is that I start to make my Fall/Winter Smell-Well. Because this is the current view from my picture window (no shit, wth??):

 

I thought today would be a good day to make it.  And since I was [fresh out of funny and/or creative] thinking of you, I thought I'd share it.  It's easy and I prefer the smell to a candle or a room spray.

Here's what I used:

 

It's one apple, two clementines (I added one later), anise seeds, whole cloves, bay leaves and a cinnamon stick.

I use whatever citrus (orange or lemon) + other fruit (usually an apple or pear) that I have on hand.  You can use fruits that are bruised or that are not long for this world, if you know what I'm saying.  If you have a thing about 'wasting food' for this type of thing...well..I guess you could EAT the fruit and just use the rinds/peels but this way is prettier, I think.  You can also get the cheapie bulk spices (which I usually do for the cinnamon sticks but I ran out of those and so I used one good one.)

Here's what you do (in case, you know, you're a step-by-stepper):

I cut the clementines and tossed them into a saucepan.

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Then, I cut the apples.  I like the little star-pattern that the core makes when you cut the apple cross-wise.

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I have the anise seeds, the cloves and the bay leaves.  The ska-much on my hand there is the clementine.  I'm sure of it.

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The cinnamon stick.  No special reason that it's by itself here.  I just needed two hands to snap it in half and I'd already poured all that other shit into my palm and so--you know--it's by itself.

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Fill the pan to the top with cold water.

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Put it on your back burner and bring it to a simmer.  You can turn it down then and just leave it in hot water back there.  It infuses a large area and it smells great.  You can add more water and use the same pot for a day or two(ish).

Now I want to go bake cookies.  Or make soup. Or just sit here on the computer and inhale deeply the Smell-Well of Fall. While eating all of the Halloween Candy.

Because No Sick-Post = No Post At All

Let me just say this:

I LOVE not being able to breathe out of EITHER nostril.  I DOUBLE-LOVE it.

Because mouth-breathing?

It's so whut.

Place Holder

Oh, HEY!  How are yooooou doing?

I know that you've been ripped off by The New Girl.  I KNOW.  No fun pictures/post of ATL.  No Fun Fact Friday.

When I came back from ATL, it turns out that I had a stow-away.  TLNG was apparently harboring a mystery illness that she took from Drew right before we left (Hey, THANKS, little man!  Finally found something that you wanted to SHARE! Double AWESOME!)

As per my policy against Detailed Sick Posts, let's just suffice it to say that I spent a majority of Thursday night bathing myself and my (newly-full-on-walking Toddler) and doing copious amounts of wicked-nasty laundry.  Couple that with an ENTIRE Friday of Nini-naps, no eating of solid food, mad whining when not directly attached to a nipple and a house that was completely ravaged by [The Man doing NADA during] my absence and re-entry, it was like I flew back from Atlanta in a fucking TIME MACHINE that dropped me off smack-dab in the middle of my kid's babyhood.  Only now, she's got [still only four] teeth and so the all-day-nini-nap?  Not so totally comfy for me.

*sigh*

So, you know.  I'm getting to it.

Swear.

(Edited to add:  Look here, though.  This makes the whole thing worth it.  Swear again.)

Margot Laine--A lot smaller than she looks in this picture, but every bit as tasty.  (And a bit of my boobage, which is, uh, much bigger than it looks here. And also quite tasty.  As you can imagine.) 

Home Bittersweet Home

I'm home.  My visit was short but awesome.  I have pictures and I'll post them soon.  Along with a super-great post about the trip (Oh, shut it.  I WILL SO.)

I am happy to be here.  

But being with my friend, seeing her new baby and the other two kids (OTHER! TWO! KIDS! OMG they have THREE KIDS!) was great.  Seeing her beautiful home and her new(ish) surrounding also felt like something clicking into place.  You know how it is, when you can picture your friend's place in your mind when you're talking on the phone?

P.S. the flights went WAY better than expected, I'll tell you that.  And if I had a dollar for every time I heard the word BABY (pronounced 'DAY-DEE') I'd be able to afford another house, right next to my BFF. That I could fly to on long weekends.  On my private jet.

So, you know.  Glad to be back but sad to be gone.

It's like the title says.

How I Sold My Soul To The Devil For A (Hopefully) Eventless Trip

Okay, so because I'm still [FREAKING THE FUCK OUT] mildly anxious about my upcoming travel, I figured that I'd write a post about the preparations that I've made.  Complete! With Pictures! (You, *sarcastic tone*: oh. goody.)

I'm talking about the 'What The Fuck Am I Going To Do With This Crazy Baby For Two Whole Hours At The Airport And Again On The Plane' Preparations. Hence the title about Selling My Soul.

But first, I heeded the advice from the wise sages, in commenter form, re: getting luggage with wheels that do the full-spinneroo.

Lookey here:

 

Sweet, right?  Got it at TJMaxx. 

Here's a wheel detail (because I'm [FTFO] focusing on details to assuage my Mild Travel Anxiety.)

Oh my WORD.  Wouldja LOOK at that DOG HAIR on the FLOOR?  No!  Wait! Don't! Forget I said anything.  WTF?

I went to the Big-Ass Toy Store, to find some small, fiddly-type toys.  TLNG digs fiddly-type toys and I wanted to get her some brand new ones, so they'll hold her interest for 4.3 seconds apiece, instead of the normal 2.2.

Here's what I came up with:

It's the Original Walking Spring Toy, although, I think that's a little bit of overselling, Slinky.  It goes down stairs, alone or in pairs, of that I'm sure.  But, I'm not totally buying the 'walking', really.  More often than not, mines just roll down after a few hesitant step-like movements.  Plus, the plastic one?  No Slinkedy sound.

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The Nephew has a big one of these and my kid loves it.  She spends some of the time scribbling on the screen and some of the time dragging it around by the stylus thing, like it's a leash.  Whatever.  It's pretend play, people.  Niiiiice square puppy. Good boy!

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I got this little Halloween Book, to give the other passengers a TREAT, folks (pun certainly intended.) During our walks around the neighborhood, I've been [training] teaching TLNG about Halloween.  And now, whenever she sees a Ghost she says, 'BooOOOOoooo' and whenever she sees a Witch, she says, 'Eh eh ehhhh,' and whenever she sees a bat, she--well--she flaps her arms and she lolls her tongue around, trying to imitate the 'flp flp flp' sound I make.  Give her a break, she's only one.  Last Halloween she didn't know her ass from a hole in the ground.  Boy, you guys are TOUGH.

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What?  Elmo is like fucking American Express around here, babies.  We NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT HIM.

So, when do I get to the Selling My Soul part?  Well, my Funk/Soul Brothers.

Right about now:

Oh, yes.  Yes I did.  I got The Littlest New Girl two bags.  These are her first purses, by the way, despite the fact that she slips her little arm into every strap she can find.  I think that she's going to lose her shit when she sees them (one at a time, of course.)  She doesn't know who Dora is but it's IMPOSSIBLE to find a little bag that's just plain.  I mean, there are plenty of cool kid bags but since I was [in denial and avoidance] shopping last minute, I had limited choices. 

The small, erm, glittery number comes from a 'set' kind of toy, with lots of little [evil] goodies. I picked through and discarded the, uh, [really horrific] impractical items and tucked the others right in.

Take a look:

Um. Yeeeah.  So, the cell phone looks pretty real and it beeps but not in an ongoing type of way.  The key doesn't beep but it has a satisfying 'click' sound that TLNG is going to go nuts for. And the sunglasses?  Well.  I have no defense.  None atall.

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Aaaaaand, yeah.  Stuffed into the Dora the Explorah purse are the remnants of the 'B@rbie Fancy-Living Beauty Kit' or whatever nonsense they call it.  I divested the whole hot mess of anything B@rbielicious, hence the peeled-off B@rbie face beside the denuded comb.  I also eliminated anything that was MAJORLY chokable and the little clear top to the pretend lipstick is bad, but TLNG has been taking on and off caps for MONTHS now, and she hasn't ever tried to eat one.  

As an aside, Mothers of Daughters, is it me or is all the fake make-up REAL??  WTF is UP with that?  It was UNBELIEVABLY difficult to find FAKE REAL make-up, as opposed to REAL FAKE make-up, if you know what I'm saying.  It makes me want to say, 'Why, in MYYYYY day, our pretend lipstick was a WOODEN BLOCK and if we got splinters, our mothers said, 'OH. WELL.''

Anyway.  You still here?

Well then, take a look at these little things I got.  Believe it or not, these cute little animals were a last-minute purchase.  They each contained a roll of Bubble Tape (which I removed, obv.) 

Aren't they cute?

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I figured that she's going to LOVE the flip top, that also makes a satisfying 'click.'  The only thing a leetle disturbing is, uh, from where the gum would actually, uh, emerge.

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Yeah. The total ASS-END.  Some gum dispenser engineer is laughing his flip-top ASS OFF, as kids around the nation are eating gum that came out of a farm animal's ass.

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And if all those other things should fail and I am left floundering, with a red-faced, screaming meanie (doctor's office style) I'll do whatever is necessary.

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As long as it's organic and without any creepy dyes.

I mean, I didn't sell ALL the way out.

Fun Fact Friday!

* Yesterday, I got my hair done and it's been SO LONG that my stylist (hairdresser? What's the PC term?) thought I'd LEFT her to go to another salon. 

* The reason that it's been so long is that when I was there last, I forgot to schedule my next appointment and I've just been waiting for the appointment to show up on my calendar.  I usually go every 8 weeks or so and about, oh, 13 weeks later, I checked my calendar and there was, er--NO UPCOMING APPOINTMENT.

* I also realized last night that I've forgotten to renew my professional association memberships.

* AND while I was rummaging around in my paperwork, I found my quarterly income tax thingers there.  Um. Not filled out or submitted.  When did it get to be OCTOBER?  (Apparently, my life is out of control.)

* My mother had incredibly distinctive and PERFECT cursive writing.  Neither The Little Sister nor I inherited that capacity.  Although, mine is MUCH BETTER than my sister's.  Ahem.

* Tonight I'm making Lasagna with Porcini Mushrooms (for the MIL dinner).  It calls for a Bechamel Sauce.  I used the ENTIRE nap time to make it.  (Well, she's still asleep, so I'm banging out a post.  How's THAT for using time wisely??)

* I never, ever, hardly ever-ever carry cash in my wallet.  I've used my debit card for things under $2 because I didn't have enough change.  EMBARRASSING.

* When I was a kid and I got a particularly bad grade (that required a parental signature) I forged my dad's name (see above).  He never, ever really signed a test for me, so all the one's that had his signature on were FAKES.

* I'm still not ruminating about my trip but I am thinking that I'm going to get me some fully-rotating wheeled luggage.  Just in case I need it.  In the very near future.  For what, though, I can't imagine.

* I remember being about 12 and hearing a story on the news that said that one day, we would all be carrying around plastic bank cards in our wallets.  They would be like credit cards but they would be attached to your checking account and so, when you went to the mall or to the grocery store, you'd just whip out this magic card and you'd purchase your items and the money would come out of your account.  The guy said that people would basically never need to carry cash around with them anymore, they'd just use the m-a-g-i-c card.  I CLEARLY remember thinking, 'Y-e-e-e-a-h, sure Buddy.  And I bet we'll ALL BE PUMPING OUR OWN GAS, TOO. Moron.'

Happy Weekend!

Because It's Hard When The Fate Of The Nation Is On The Line AND Your Baseball Team Is In The Playoffs.

So, The Man is making me flipping crazy by flipping the flipping stations back and forth between The Debate and The Playoffs.  And, since it's IMPOSSIBLE to listen to half an answer and then some screaming fans and then half a question and then grumbling and/or elation (depending, obv) I've decided to [tune his ass out, like usual] write a post.

BTW, it's the bottom of the 6th with the score 5-0 (whatever the hell THAT means) and I am WAY sick of hearing about Joe the Plumber, whose website has a graphic of a guy with 'Plumber Butt,' no shit, so tuning out is no big deal.  Plus, I've got the next (and most recent) Sookie Stackhouse book, so I'm looking forward to reading that for a day or two.

Incidentally, have you ever been book-shamed by a book store employee or a librarian? 

It is quite the same feeling as being music-shamed by the cool-goth-punk-emo (or whateverthefuck they're calling it now) kid who works in the music store.  You know the one?  The kid who stands there, picking at his black fingernail polish, looking all kinds of bored.  He takes your cd in hand and then smeeerks when he rings up your [Shakira*] [Shania Twain*] [Justin Timberlake*] less obscure and more mainstream music purchase?

Yeah, it's like that, except the shamer is not cool or punk or emo, he's a little overweight and balding and wearing stripes and docksiders and he's sitting behind a computer and he talks LOUD, even though it's a LIBRARY, for fuck's sake.  And when you tell him that you're looking for the last book in the series by Charlaine Harris (which you pronounce Shar-lane) he bellows, 'OH, ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT CHARLAINE HARRIS? (but he pronounces it, um, Shar-leen, wtf?) And while you are trying concentrate and answer his questions, you're also mindful that it's a public place and so you're trying to hold fast to your tiny-new-zombie-walker, effectively acting as the pole to her tether-ball, going around and around in a circle, but never letting go, so as to prevent her from clearing all the shelves that are only four inches off the floor (I never noticed those before but there are LOADS of them.) Despite the back-ache and the overall foolishness that is your current situation, you try to save a LITTLE dignity and you tell him quietly, yes, that's her (who spells Charlene 'Charlaine'?) he says, 'OH. ARE THESE THE SOOKIE STACKHOUSE BOOKS? in a tone that was a mix of amusement and distaste.  Shamed!  By a guy in DOCKSIDERS.

Anyway.

I'm going away next week, folks.  I am taking a trip.  I am taking the baby with me.  On a plane.  By myself.  I am freaking the fuck out.  For realz.  I always have a touch of 'travel anxiety' but nothing like what I am experiencing right now.  I am worrying in the way that I worry, which is to say that I have not thought at ALL about my trip.  I haven't planned, I have discussed, I haven't printed out my itinerary.  I've completely blocked it out.  Typing about it?  I feel a leetle elevation in the heart rate.  I don't want to think about a bunch of fucked up shit that probably won't even happen.  BTW, I'm not talking about the plane fucking crashing--which is what The Man is afraid of.  I'm worried about things like delays that keep us in the airport all day or taking the shuttle train from the gate to the baggage claim, while trying to carry my bags and my kid or getting kicked off the airplane for nursing. (Don't even fucking THINK ABOUT IT, DELTA. You will see me on the news, I swear.) I am planning on bringing stickers (her new hobby!), some candy (jelly beans--I figure with only four teeth it will take up some time), new little toys that she's never seen.  I'm planning on wheeling her ass around in the umbrella stroller and checking it plane-side.  Other than that?  I got nothing.

Except, you know, The Travel Anxiety.

I probably should've continued the weaning.  Then I could take some XANAX and everything would be F-I-N-E.

*I don't actually OWN any of these cds.  I was just giving some EXAMPLES.