The tiniest child in our house, at six weeks of age, has done an impressive job of learning the Dance of I'm Not Sleeping, including all appropriate hand motions, facial expressions, and shifts in voice. She has even mastered the art of the incredible Whimpering Yowl, which has a shock factor of x100 and also utilizes a 2 second Full Heart Stop on its victims. There is, unfortunately, no cure nor any immunity available in this or any other of a multitude of lifetimes.
In her honor, I have invented a little song. It sounds like "Are You Sleeping, Brother John?" or "Freres Jacques" but the words have been altered in the general delirium:
I'm Not Sleeping
I'm Not Sleeping
No Way Mom!
No Way Mom!
You can't make me do it
Even if you use this
Silly Song
Silly Song
There are several variations, all along this same theme. It has absolutely no distractive effect or entertainment value whatsoever to the child in question, but yodeling it around her head while her great howling sets off ringtones against my eardrums certainly helps me to pass the time.
I know this is all being done to avoid the pounce of Mr Sleep Monster, though I couldn't say why. It is something all children have in common - and I go to great lengths to avoid the shadowy capture of his dark and distant breath myself...
The Dance of I'm Not Sleeping, as presented by Babies The World Over Dance Troupe:
Opening trill of Nagging Doubt, liberally segued and applied to Parenting Skills; followed by the Body Jump and Forehead Dive, using adult facial features as targets. Scream of the Angry Baby is used as percussion and melodic theme throughout, creating a resonating feedback whine within the ears of all listeners. Quite effective. Next introduced is the Whimpering Yowl, activated at third intervals so as to not render the listener unconscious in a dead faint, which could prove horribly dangerous to the performer. I Refuse To Be Distracted is hammered in to the audience psyche while I Will Claw Your Eyes Out If You Do Not Save Me From This Misery is scratched into any reachable epithelial layers. This is closely followed by several stanzas of Ha Ha I Fooled You in direct counterpoint to Put Me Down No Pick Me Up, played over and over again until at last we reach the crescendo of The Final Movement: I Have Fallen Asleep With My Eyes Open So There, with a tiny coda of It Will Be Time For Me To Eat Again In 15 Minutes, So Have The Bottle Ready, You Mad Fool...
IT'S ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL MOM LOSES A BRAIN CELL.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
...and then there were FOUR
Brief break from thinking clearly to have a baby and bring her home from the hospital.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I am undecided:
There are visits where I find this to be an enormously beautiful website, full of works of art that are immaculately and professionally rendered; and then there are visits where I think it is too commercialized to qualify as representative of art, though there are artistic presences on the site. It really gets confusing in my head sometimes. Either way, I love window shopping here:
The Artful Home
There are visits where I find this to be an enormously beautiful website, full of works of art that are immaculately and professionally rendered; and then there are visits where I think it is too commercialized to qualify as representative of art, though there are artistic presences on the site. It really gets confusing in my head sometimes. Either way, I love window shopping here:
The Artful Home
Thursday, January 21, 2010
New Book!
Finally, it has arrived. My new, used book from Amazon, first misdirected by the post office to the wrong town, then supposedly delivery-attempted twice - while the apartment was full of people - with no notices left. It is FINALLY here, it has FINALLY arrived, and I am RIDICULOUSLY excited.
This book, in keeping with my gestationally diabetic inability to actually eat anything that doesn't resemble rabbit food, is all about PASTRY. It is the second edition of Bo Friberg's The Professional Pastry Chef, and while I the fourth edition is actually available on the market (revamped into separate volumes), this one was under $14.00 (including shipping) and therefore an excellent starting place and completely irresistible.
I have already started prowling through it, trying to ignore my Adrian Monk-like aversion to things actually touched by other people, and in the first few paragraphs of chapter one, I have already found a sentence to make me chortle with joy: "If you make croissants every morning..." well, if I could actually stand up for more than two minutes at a time, believe me, I would try. Homemade croissants? Every day? In my kitchen? Delirium! I must be in heaven.
Well... purgatory, anyway. Pastry, cooking, and baking are in my top ten list of things to do when I grow up. I just know what exquisite torment it would be to try to do any of it right now. Picture the Cookie Monster baking batches of Christmas Cookies that he is not allowed to eat. Hmmm... on second thought, maybe that's more like hell...
(Brief aside from the weird Filing Cabinet of Connectivity: I said that I wanted to be like someone once when I grew up; one person in the room rolled her eyes and in an angry voice replied, "you're 30-something years old, you're ALREADY grown up." Obviously not a subscriber to the 1000-year life plan.)
I'm going to go torture myself by finishing the first chapter. After that I can lie down and spend some time dreaming about all the foods I can't eat. Nothing like a little self-provocation to inspire that happy place inside my head.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
A Plague of Creativity: My Favorites on Etsy
It's like an experimental window-shopping excursion gone completely mad: etsy.com
Images and links and ideas and accomplishments litter the highway of my brain with inspiration and wishful wonder, filling page after page with images I can't bring myself to delete just in case the person who created or posted the item needs reassurance that someone likes it, even if the money isn't there to buy it. This time around, my fetish for favorites is at a downright docile 70 or so pages; there have been times when it has crested the 400 mark. The fun part is going through later and deleting the items that have been sold or removed. It is reassuring somehow that, even though my own items don't sell very well or often, other people's DO. While paring down my list yesterday, I found someone who had over 50 thousand sales completed with a 100% approval rating, which is no small feat!
In addition to the items I find and drool over and enjoy, I also mark shops as favorites. That pile of favorites has over 700 pages accumulated, and is harder to go through and get rid of. It is a good indicator of the state of shopping at the moment, though. The number of shops that are empty or on vacation or simply missing from the ranks is astonishing; two years ago this was a rare occurrence. While I know that it has partly to do with the advent of competitive sites, I firmly believe it has more to do with the deterioration of our economy than anything else. Handmade and homemade are a specialty market, and despite being more unique and attractive to the buyer, they do tend to be more expensive than mass-produced and mass-marketed items. At a certain economic point, handmade and homemade become symbols of what they really are: An art form whose foundation is a labor of love.
Unlike bidding sites like eBay, sales on Etsy are strictly priced according to what the seller wants to charge. A one-of-a-kind hand-cut paper book like Arbouricon I by PistolesPress is priced according to the artist's estimation of value. It is an amazing work of art, valued by its creator, as opposed to being bid on and possibly sold at a price drastically below even the cost of labor and materials. A sculpture set like "How the outside can tell how you feel inside," by ArtMind is also incredibly unique and worth the listing price. These items were among the first I found when visiting Etsy; they are still for sale and probably will be until I win the lottery, at which point I will get to see them in person if someone else has not already done so. But I would not have it any other way; they are constant and reassuring reminders to me of what made me fall in love with this artist's market in the first place.
Another aspect of Etsy that I genuinely appreciate and find causes exponential growth of my favorite lists is the astounding variety of creative endeavors to be found there. Every other item brings some kind of new idea or technique to mind for me to try. I spend a lot of time looking at supplies and thinking about what I would do with them; I spend time figuring out how things are made or simply admiring the fact that someone has the patience and ability to create something I have previously never even conceived of. Really it has contributed rather evilly to my sense of creative failure; I come up with dozens of ideas and methods, and I want to learn how to do all these things that other people are doing, but there are not enough hours in the day and not enough energy in my limbs to follow through. Drifting up from the depths of high school and college memories come those voices that occasionally haunt me, "why can't you choose just one? just pick one to be good at and stick with it..." but I just can't do it. I can't pin myself down to any single method or endeavor; what if I miss something? what if the next thing I try gives me the ability to make something even more beautiful or interesting than I envisioned? how do I possibly say no to that kind of wonder?
Which brings us back to my original lament... too many interests and not enough time. Thus the petition for more hours in the day and the plea for a thousand-year lifespan - hopefully one day enough signatures will accumulate to convince the Universe to grant me my wish!
Images and links and ideas and accomplishments litter the highway of my brain with inspiration and wishful wonder, filling page after page with images I can't bring myself to delete just in case the person who created or posted the item needs reassurance that someone likes it, even if the money isn't there to buy it. This time around, my fetish for favorites is at a downright docile 70 or so pages; there have been times when it has crested the 400 mark. The fun part is going through later and deleting the items that have been sold or removed. It is reassuring somehow that, even though my own items don't sell very well or often, other people's DO. While paring down my list yesterday, I found someone who had over 50 thousand sales completed with a 100% approval rating, which is no small feat!
In addition to the items I find and drool over and enjoy, I also mark shops as favorites. That pile of favorites has over 700 pages accumulated, and is harder to go through and get rid of. It is a good indicator of the state of shopping at the moment, though. The number of shops that are empty or on vacation or simply missing from the ranks is astonishing; two years ago this was a rare occurrence. While I know that it has partly to do with the advent of competitive sites, I firmly believe it has more to do with the deterioration of our economy than anything else. Handmade and homemade are a specialty market, and despite being more unique and attractive to the buyer, they do tend to be more expensive than mass-produced and mass-marketed items. At a certain economic point, handmade and homemade become symbols of what they really are: An art form whose foundation is a labor of love.
Unlike bidding sites like eBay, sales on Etsy are strictly priced according to what the seller wants to charge. A one-of-a-kind hand-cut paper book like Arbouricon I by PistolesPress is priced according to the artist's estimation of value. It is an amazing work of art, valued by its creator, as opposed to being bid on and possibly sold at a price drastically below even the cost of labor and materials. A sculpture set like "How the outside can tell how you feel inside," by ArtMind is also incredibly unique and worth the listing price. These items were among the first I found when visiting Etsy; they are still for sale and probably will be until I win the lottery, at which point I will get to see them in person if someone else has not already done so. But I would not have it any other way; they are constant and reassuring reminders to me of what made me fall in love with this artist's market in the first place.
Another aspect of Etsy that I genuinely appreciate and find causes exponential growth of my favorite lists is the astounding variety of creative endeavors to be found there. Every other item brings some kind of new idea or technique to mind for me to try. I spend a lot of time looking at supplies and thinking about what I would do with them; I spend time figuring out how things are made or simply admiring the fact that someone has the patience and ability to create something I have previously never even conceived of. Really it has contributed rather evilly to my sense of creative failure; I come up with dozens of ideas and methods, and I want to learn how to do all these things that other people are doing, but there are not enough hours in the day and not enough energy in my limbs to follow through. Drifting up from the depths of high school and college memories come those voices that occasionally haunt me, "why can't you choose just one? just pick one to be good at and stick with it..." but I just can't do it. I can't pin myself down to any single method or endeavor; what if I miss something? what if the next thing I try gives me the ability to make something even more beautiful or interesting than I envisioned? how do I possibly say no to that kind of wonder?
Which brings us back to my original lament... too many interests and not enough time. Thus the petition for more hours in the day and the plea for a thousand-year lifespan - hopefully one day enough signatures will accumulate to convince the Universe to grant me my wish!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
My 20 Year Curse
I am a writer. In my head, in my heart, in my speech, in my ADD-like tendency to be distracted and mesmerized by virtually everything that catches my eye, I am a child of the bard, granted the gift of gab, and your basic babbler from day one. Just ask my mother.
So how do I explain my tongue-tied and twisted silence for the last 20 years? What are all of these unfinished things around me? Has life so completely turned me upside-down and inside out that stringing thoughts together makes me feel tired, bitter, and abused?
Pretty much.
So, I'm going to start talking to myself out loud. Maybe someone will answer me; maybe not. At least I'll be talking again. But what about? Well, like most people, I have lots of lists to the side of this page; Some of them are sort of static and boring. What I have decided to do is simply write about each of these things one post at a time, including links and details whenever possible. My interests being legion, I can honestly say that the size of my lists will expand exponentially from time to time, and probably quickly outstrip my actual posts. By writing about each one specifically, I can remove it from the list and make room for more stuff. Kind of like my workspace for crafting, only stuff will actually go back out the door after achieving a state of metamorphosis...
I'd keep my fingers crossed, but I need them to type.
So how do I explain my tongue-tied and twisted silence for the last 20 years? What are all of these unfinished things around me? Has life so completely turned me upside-down and inside out that stringing thoughts together makes me feel tired, bitter, and abused?
Pretty much.
So, I'm going to start talking to myself out loud. Maybe someone will answer me; maybe not. At least I'll be talking again. But what about? Well, like most people, I have lots of lists to the side of this page; Some of them are sort of static and boring. What I have decided to do is simply write about each of these things one post at a time, including links and details whenever possible. My interests being legion, I can honestly say that the size of my lists will expand exponentially from time to time, and probably quickly outstrip my actual posts. By writing about each one specifically, I can remove it from the list and make room for more stuff. Kind of like my workspace for crafting, only stuff will actually go back out the door after achieving a state of metamorphosis...
I'd keep my fingers crossed, but I need them to type.
Friday, January 15, 2010
I hope I live to be 1000...
If I can't die at a reasonably young age, which I consider early enough to avoid internment in a geriatric-care facility as well as avoiding the burdening of my children with my care - coming from a history of Alzheimer's, I've given this some thought - then I would sincerely like to retain all of my faculties AND my physical capabilities and live to be something like 1000 years old.
It's the only way I'll get to learn and do everything that I'm interested in, you see.
For example, today I cut apart a sturdy cardboard box in order to make simple weaving forms to see if I can come up with some jute/sisal appearance miniature rugs. While collecting all of the necessaries, I went to Amazon.com to check on my latest book order (TOTALLY addicted to used books) and ended up spending 2 hours adding more books to one of my 16 wish lists. I am soooooooo glad they finally let us name them to tell them apart...!
So now that I am finished with Amazon.com, it should be time to make the forms, right? Wrong. Now, in my gestationally-diabetic chronologically-chained necessity, I have to go eat lunch. This will entail disturbing the sleeping cat, who has finally decided he wants to be a lap cat and actually sleeps attached to one of the humans instead of hiding under the beds. As I get out of the bed to accomplish this (read: overturned turtle attempting to right itself), I will encounter the bag of knitting projects that are in various stages of incompletion for the baby. The frothy pink and orange boucle blanket sticking out of the top of the bag is deliciously attractive and screams for my attention at all hours.
It's a good thing I'm an insomniac.
It's the only way I'll get to learn and do everything that I'm interested in, you see.
For example, today I cut apart a sturdy cardboard box in order to make simple weaving forms to see if I can come up with some jute/sisal appearance miniature rugs. While collecting all of the necessaries, I went to Amazon.com to check on my latest book order (TOTALLY addicted to used books) and ended up spending 2 hours adding more books to one of my 16 wish lists. I am soooooooo glad they finally let us name them to tell them apart...!
So now that I am finished with Amazon.com, it should be time to make the forms, right? Wrong. Now, in my gestationally-diabetic chronologically-chained necessity, I have to go eat lunch. This will entail disturbing the sleeping cat, who has finally decided he wants to be a lap cat and actually sleeps attached to one of the humans instead of hiding under the beds. As I get out of the bed to accomplish this (read: overturned turtle attempting to right itself), I will encounter the bag of knitting projects that are in various stages of incompletion for the baby. The frothy pink and orange boucle blanket sticking out of the top of the bag is deliciously attractive and screams for my attention at all hours.
It's a good thing I'm an insomniac.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
A Petition to the Universe:
We the people, in order to actually finish, accomplish, refine, and increase our endeavors and capacities for success, do hereby petition the Universe for an increase in the length of our humble planet's Solar Day by 4 hours.
These extra hours are for our personal benefit, and may be used as we see fit. They can be used to do laundry, go to the dry cleaner, eat dinner in a restaurant, exercise, balance the checkbook, sleep, watch television, play a video game, cook, read, start a business, daydream, practice standup comedy in front of the bathroom mirror, eat pancakes, play with the cat, make waffles, lie in a hammock, ride a bike, learn a language, refresh fading math skills, go to church, debate philosophy, take the train to the end of the line, practice a new hobby, plan to take over the world, install solar panels, bake cookies, randomly spread flower seeds through urban areas, teach a parrot to talk, visit the library, watch a movie, build a workbench, catch up with family, finish the honey-do list, complete the 300 unfinished projects stagnating around the house, write a book, post a blog, teach great-aunt edna to use email so shouting through the phone is no longer necessary, &etc as required by individuals everywhere.
Respectfully submitted,
me, myself, and I
**ADDENDUM:
Employers shall NOT be allowed to increase the length of work days, shifts, or to otherwise require the use of these increased hours for company profit; NOR will they be allowed to undercut payment of overtime rates or further decrease the amount of time legally granted to us through applicable vacation, sick days, weekends, holidays, breaks, or meals; NOR will they be allowed to alter the number of days in the work week. These requirements are considered binding, and though individual inclination may allow for temporary use of these extra hours to aid one's employer or earn greater pay, such agreements shall not be considered permanent NOR will one individual's agreement influence or reflect upon the lack of agreement by another individual, NOR will such agreements between an individual and his/her employer be considered binding to any other individuals under employ within the same company.
*****
...while these four hours may not actually be sufficient to finish my 300 incomplete projects, they would certainly let me put a dent in those giant storage boxes of yarn...
These extra hours are for our personal benefit, and may be used as we see fit. They can be used to do laundry, go to the dry cleaner, eat dinner in a restaurant, exercise, balance the checkbook, sleep, watch television, play a video game, cook, read, start a business, daydream, practice standup comedy in front of the bathroom mirror, eat pancakes, play with the cat, make waffles, lie in a hammock, ride a bike, learn a language, refresh fading math skills, go to church, debate philosophy, take the train to the end of the line, practice a new hobby, plan to take over the world, install solar panels, bake cookies, randomly spread flower seeds through urban areas, teach a parrot to talk, visit the library, watch a movie, build a workbench, catch up with family, finish the honey-do list, complete the 300 unfinished projects stagnating around the house, write a book, post a blog, teach great-aunt edna to use email so shouting through the phone is no longer necessary, &etc as required by individuals everywhere.
Respectfully submitted,
me, myself, and I
**ADDENDUM:
Employers shall NOT be allowed to increase the length of work days, shifts, or to otherwise require the use of these increased hours for company profit; NOR will they be allowed to undercut payment of overtime rates or further decrease the amount of time legally granted to us through applicable vacation, sick days, weekends, holidays, breaks, or meals; NOR will they be allowed to alter the number of days in the work week. These requirements are considered binding, and though individual inclination may allow for temporary use of these extra hours to aid one's employer or earn greater pay, such agreements shall not be considered permanent NOR will one individual's agreement influence or reflect upon the lack of agreement by another individual, NOR will such agreements between an individual and his/her employer be considered binding to any other individuals under employ within the same company.
*****
...while these four hours may not actually be sufficient to finish my 300 incomplete projects, they would certainly let me put a dent in those giant storage boxes of yarn...
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