I'm So Tired

Cue the Beatles' song of the same name. I am just having one of those very sleepy weeks. I suppose it could be the rip roaring weekend we had. My father's band, Intraction, had its debut gig. Dad was calling it a "coming out" party until we recommended that he use some different lingo to describe it. Anyhow, it was very cool to see my dad wielding a 1971 Fender Precision bass and making music. They were good, too! It's always a little awkward when you invite over a hundred of your family, friends and acquaintances, but the band proved worthy.

Dad said one of his friends left him with the comment, "It's great to come to an event like this with low expectations...it's really easy to be blown away. You were great!" Not so sure that's the highest compliment I've ever heard, but hey, the rockstar liked it, so that's all that matters. (There was actually a little discussion in the family about that comment. The crux of the contention was: Would it make you happier to hear that you did a great job in comparison to low expectations or high expectations?) No matter, though, a great time was had by all. See what you think...

Momzilla Archive

Since I figure I may always be posting stories about my ex-mother-in-law I would like to reprise some previous tales of Momzilla from years past. I am so looking forward to the day when my divorce is final and I can get (somewhat) free from her double-taloned hold and screeching voice...So, without further ado, I give you Momzilla:


Originally posted in August of 2006...Momzilla Comes for a Visit

My mother-in-law is Momzilla. She's just horrid to her son. She's alright to me because she believes I am "a bit of a take-charge girl." I'm sure she talks about me behind my back, because she does that to everyone. She is just really unhappy in her own skin, so she has to come down on every other living soul around her. The only one in our family who is exempt is Elena. Thank God, because if she ever levied a blow at my baby, I would tear Momzilla limb from limb.

Last night they came over to visit the baby. By the time I got home from work, and they had only been there one hour, poor Patrick was a complete frazzled mess. The average person pushes Patrick's buttons. His mother plays ragtime on his. She knows every weakness and insecurity and preys upon them like a velociraptor. She frames lines of questioning meant merely to back him (or me) into a corner. An example would be these exchanges from last night:

MZ: "Patrick, you're working now?"
P: "Yup."
MZ: "What days?"
P: "Not sure, it changes every week."
MZ "You have to be more clear with them. They will take advantage of you!"
P: "No Mom, they know what times I can work and what times I can't, they are setting the schedule up to accomodate."
MZ: "Why are you not the one setting the schedule? You should be managing that store!"
P: "I don't want to manage the store."
MZ: "I don't understand why you could be so unambitious and lazy."
P: "Mom, I am not lazy. I watch Elena."

Then later to me:
MZ: "Does your mom come down to help Patrick out with watching Elena?"
Me: "Yes, most days she comes for a few hours in the afternoon."
MZ: "Why?"
Me: "To give Patrick some time off and to spend time with her grandaughter."
MZ: "What does he do while she is watching Elena?"
Me: "He'll run errands, do a project, take a nap...I don't..."
MZ: "WHAT!? A nap? I watched three children and never needed a nap. What is wrong with him? He's soooo lazy!"
Me (warning: I LOST MY SHIT!): "Mary! Please don't put your son down anymore in front of me. I love him dearly and I want you to know that he is an excellent husband and father."
MZ: "But...I don't put him..."
Me: "Yes YOU DO! You roll your eyes. You call him lazy. You say he is not using his schooling. You put down the fact that he is home with Laney. I love him and you are hurting my feelings. Please, please stop."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...AND BOY DID IT FEEL GOOD!


Post Date: SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2005
Mary Popped In
Yesterday, Momzilla (my mother-in-law see previous post here) called around eleven in the morning to see what we were up to and to see if she could come visit "her" baby. Well, I said, you can, but I have a friend coming into town and we are going to go shop, walk, eat, so if we are not home, we should be back by three or four. Oh, she said, I'll call you when I know if we are going to take a drive down or not. OK, I said.

Fast forward to 4:40 PM. I am feeling safe and sound. Melissa and I are sitting on the couch sharing the laptop screen, looking for boutiquey costumes for Elena. I decide that in order to be a good hostess, and to have an excuse to break my diet, I will prepare a peach cobbler. Being a very good wife and mother, a few weeks ago, I peeled and sliced about twenty ripe, sweet fleshed, local-grown peaches and froze them. I pulled them out, made an oat and brown sugar topping and put it in the oven. Fifteen minutes from peach cobbler showtime, I heard a horrifying sound.

It was a loud knock at the door. I was secretly hoping it was the pesky UPS man who annouced his arrival in that same manner. My hopes were dashed when the door opened on its own. My in-laws had popped in. Despite the fact that I was in pretty good shape, awake, showered, dressed, baby dressed, baby not wearing ugly stained outfit, baby napping, coffee brewing, sweet smells filling kitchen, peach cobbler timer dinging...I was still put off by their showing up unannounced. I knew there was a "chance" of them taking a drive down to our neck of the woods, but I kept playing the earlier phone conversation over and over again in my head to see if I had missed when she said they would be down and that they would not call first.

My mother-in-law prefers the pop-in. The pop-in should be outlawed. Pop-ins are always unwelcome. Today, for example, I stayed up late with friends last night. We even slept over at their house and then got up early and, although it was fun, I was completely bankrupt of all energy. As we were all crawling out of the car and into the house and into our napping positions, Derek-from-down-the-street came riding by on his bike and shouted to us. Please GOD, let him just be saying hello. Please GOD, make him stop talking and GO AWAY. I had three bags of overnight luggage and groceries hanging off my arms, one half-asleep trundling baby and one grouchy husband at the self-proclaimed "end of his rope." We finally herded the whole family inside, sans Derek and I wanted to cry I was so happy to be home.

I had a sudden need to use the bathroom (the kind that being back in your own home will inspire) and proceeded to spend some time in there. DING DONG...OH NO!!! Yes, the doorbell. It was Derek. "I can pat your dog?" Damn pop-ins.

Post Date: SATURDAY, MAY 13, 2006
Big Underpants
This one goes out to my friend Tiff. She's had a bit of a rough month, so this story is dedicated to her sense of humor. She once told me that mere mention of the word underpants can send her into hysterics. It comes from a high school variety show where one of her peers did a comedy act centering around the word "underpants." Classic Tiff. This is the story of some underpants...some BIG ASS panties.

So one day, my in-laws came over. They come over a lot and visit with Elena and help us out. My mother-in-law is a primo bargain hunter so she always has a few gifts to share. This particular visit, she had been to the local Filenes which was closing. They had "slim-pickings," but she was able to find a few things. She brought me a bra that could have doubled as a baby sling for the new baby. I think it was a 44 DD. I may be a bit more buxom while pregnant, but no where NEAR that size. I politely declined saying that lace bras with padding make me itch. Phew...that was a near miss.

She rummaged in the Filenes shopping bag some more and produced three pairs of underpants. I was looking down at the time, going through some pictures. She annouced that these were for when I "get big and pregnant." They were a size 12. Well, size 12 is smaller than my regular size of 16...in pants. Apparently, underwear are sized very differently. A size 8 is the equivalent of a size 16 pants size. So, a 12 is a touch bigger...Here is what a size 12 in underpants looks like:


Post Date: SATURDAY, MAY 20, 2006
Painting the House
I don't really know if it's appropriate that I write a vent here about my in-laws, but I've done it before, so why stop now?

Anyhow, for awhile now the in-laws have been making their visits when I am at work. This is nice because I either don't have to see them or I get to come home for a short visit, which is just enough. Well, Momzilla is on a campaign to get us to move out of this house. She is convinced that we have to paint the house if we ever want to sell it. So, she has offered to pay for the painting of the house, inside and out. Very kind offer, right?

Well, you would think so, wouldn't you? There are parameters to the offer:
1) It must be done by THEIR painter
2) It must be done quickly
3) We will owe them the money or it will be a gift depending on the conversation

The conversation we had yesterday went like this:
Me, "$7000 is too much money. We can't be on the hook to you for that much money. We'll never be able to pay you back."

MZ, "It's a gift to you. You don't have to pay us back."

Me, "Well, if it's a gift, I would rather we take the money to use for maternity leave, so I don't have to sell my car to pay for my time off."

MZ, "We don't have $7000 just floating around!"

Me, "Then don't paint our house for us! I would never ask you to! I haven't even talked to Patrick about it, so we will have to discuss it and decide, but I do not think I can accept it...it's just too much."

MZ, "Well, I have to tell the painter NOW. He would come and do the painting in two weeks."

Me, "If the answer has to be today, then it is no."

MZ, "When can you have an answer? Maybe we should just do the interior stuff, that's only $1200."

Me, "Maybe, we'll see. I have to talk to Patrick and I would want to get another quote."

MZ, "Well, this guy was going to do a lot of repairs."

Me, "I was wondering because $7000 seemed like an awful lot for a little house. I would rather paint it ourselves or give a credit to a buyer when we do go to sell it. It's seems frivilous to do it at this point. It's not urgent."

MZ, "Oh! You have a lot of rot and mildew! It's in bad, bad shape."

Me, "I just don't want to think about this right now while I am 8 months pregnant! I can't imagine cleaning the house to be able to enable ceiling painting throughout. Just let me talk to Patrick about it."

MZ, "But, I want you out of this house and neighborhood."

UGH!! Yes, I know you want us out of this neighborhood. I know you don't like diversity and want us to move away from it. I know you look at our neighbor, who is a 16 year-old hispanic girl and imagine she is a crack whore. She's not, she's a good girl. "But, I saw her hanging all over BOYYYYYYYYS," you hiss. That's what 16 year-olds do!

OK readers, what the hell do I do?

Momzilla Behind the Wheel

Momzilla, Magilla, the mother-in-law still drives. She has had cataracts removed recently which SHOULD, in theory, have alleviated some of the seeing issues that have made that pesky chore of driving at night NEXT TO IMPOSSIBLE! Ugh...How do you stop someone who is super stubborn and bossy from driving? That, my friends, is the question.

One day, I was driving with the soon-to-be-ex-husband and we came up to an interesection. Across the way was Momzilla, edging out into the intersection, looking ticked off that the cars speeding by didn't part like the Red Sea for her. We watched as she inched forward more and more until she was hanging out in the interesection. It was frightening. It was devestating when we realized our daughter was in that car with her. I would argue with her, but honestly folks, that requires some degree of fortitude I just don't have in me right now.

Elena has only twice gotten car sick. Both times in her car. You know why? She has a lever-foot acceleration problem. Have you ever driven with someone who you figure must have a hinge in the middle of their foot because they push down on the accelerator, only to back off again, push down again, off again. It makes for a ride far more like a boat on rough seas than a Jeep riding down a smoothly paved highway. It makes me instantly sick.

And yet, this woman is the world's best projector of EVERY driving issue. It is not HER fault, it's that idiot or this moron who has no idea how to drive. It's that car up there going so fast, weaving in and out that made it hard for her to merge onto the highway (not, of course, the fact that she freaks out merging onto said highway and backs off the accelerator). She's highly critical of anyone else's driving. Suffice to say, I cannot drive her anywhere without her gripping the dashboard, drama-style, a panicked, incredulous face turned towards me, "You ALMOST didn't make that turn!" Anytime I coming up to their house, it is a game for me to figure out when to call to make it appear as if I drove the speed limit or under the whole ride, or I will get an earful. "You must have drove like a bat out of hell to get here!" "My goodness!!! How fast did you go? You're going to get a ticket."

To all that I reply, people in glass houses...you know the rest.

A Few Funnies

Liam has a car toothbrush. I thought this was a great idea, initially,, until you focus on the fact that my son likes to brush teeth IN the bathtub and gets confused as to whether it is a toothbrush or a car. I got kind of grossed out tonight as he was "driving" it the grout of the bathtub.

I was sitting doing work today in my room. Elena was jumping on my current "bed." I put bed in quotes because I am currently sleeping around at my parents' house (where I, embarassingly enough, live)...the bed, to which she was referring, is the playroom futon where I logged a few nights this week while Sissy was in town. This futon broke a few weeks ago, so "futon" isn't the exact right description of it, no, it more like a floor pad. Anyhow, I was sitting at my computer doing my work and I heard, "Mommy, I peed on your bed last night, but that's ok, wight?" Sigh...I suppose it's fine, Elena. Here she is, snuggling in my "bed":

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Must publish...eighteen-month-old attack...............ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Commemorating Sister

Today my sister is 32. She was a bicentennial baby. I remember well when she came to live with us. She was hardly impressive at first, just stealing Mom's lap and attention, but over time that all changed. We became friends.

When she was born, I was just going to kindergarten. Soon after, I would learn to read and read books to her all the time. We would take our evening bath together at night and she would laugh at my splashing silliness. So many pictures snapped over the next years would capture her beaming face, squished in the crook of my arm or squeezed in a sideways hug. On Saturday mornings, we could be found making graham crackers with peanut butter for breakfast and trying to avoid waking our parents as we would sneak down to watch our favorite Saturday morning cartoons. (Anyone remember Fred and Barney Meet the Schmoo?)

She would always be up for my games and shenanigans. She was a captive audience when I wanted to sing, dance or put on a show. Then, she would become the best at putting on shows ever, far surpassing her less theatrically-inclined sister! She and I would seek out fun wherever we went, swimming in the Lake, sliding down the stairs on a crib mattress, playing with Dad's microphones, destroying the house with "Mandy and Jenny" and their escapades. She was the best gift my parents ever gave me!

So, this weekend as we celebrated her birthday with a big karaoke bash, I watched with pride as she put on a show for us. As she had done for me, so many times before. I was proud. She was gorgeous and talented and it was wonderful.

We were sisters before we were friends, but friends we are and friends we will always be. Happy Birthday, Sissy!

I Knooooooooow, Riiight?

I have a new visitor. It's kind of like a disease. It's contagious like a yawn or a childhood illness.

It's a simple, three-word phrase I picked up after spending time with a friend who uses said phrase...

I know, right?

It came on like a pox. First once, then twice, then several times. As I got tired, and over stimulated (not that that happened at all, what with going to Foxwoods, getting no sleep, partying in Boston...nah...), it came on full force, a full-blown infection.

Every conversation I have had for the last two days has been interrupted by this new invader. Apparently, my tired, involutary mind is convinced that, "I know, right?" is the perfect insertion into any conversation. My voluntary mind, however, is warring against it. So, now, I sound like I have Tourettes Syndrome.

My sister: "We have to do another song...how about Buttercup, it rocks!"

My Involutary Mind: "I know, right?"

My Voluntary Mind in my head: OH NO! SHUT UP! There it is again. I totally wish I could stop saying that!

Me, out loud: "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."

My sister: "Eventually, you will give it up, it can't go on forever!"

I know, right?

When Beaches Attack

You know when you have a really bad cut or scar and you can't stop staring at it, desptite the fact that it nauseates you? That's sort of what our tv selection has been like this morning. We just spent an hour of time, we will never get back (mind you), watching When Beaches Attack. It was entertaining. Apparently, I should never go on a beach vacation again, due to the potential sea lice infestation waiting to pepper my bathing suit area with embarassing spots, or the rip tide lurking just offshore.

The show was entertaining. From the man who talked about drowning in deadpan monotone, to the guy who described a jellyfish sting as a "jack-in-the-box which, instead of holding a fun little puppet, holds and surprises with a venom-filled harpoon." (I'm paraphrasing here) He actually mimed spinning the handle on the side of the jack-in-the-box and sang the song...doo, doo, doot, doo, doo, doo, doo, doot, doo, doot, doo, doot, doo, doot, doo, doo, doot. It was great.

My favorite part of the show, though, was the expert who was featured giving his opinion on every hazard. He was the voice of gloom and doom, mixed with a firm mastery of the obvious. He cracked me up. First, he was so boring. How can you take someone seriously when they are talking about how beach pollution can kill?

I found I spent the whole time imagining how little fun all these experts would be on a "beach vacation." Can you imagine the scene with their families? I can imagine being the wife..."OK hon, that is ENOUGH about the damn e coli! You're scaring the kids!!"

Feeling Like a Real Growing-Up

I cannot tell you how incredibly free I feel today. I am in Boston WITHOUT THE KIDDOS!!! Thursday night, I dropped them off with the in-laws and their dad. They happily separated from me. There was only one, possibly even imagined, moment when Liam came at me as I was leaving and seemed sad to see me go. He had his arms outstretched and hugged me, leaned against me, and said, "Nooo" in a quiet little voice. He then tried to throw himself out the door with me, but other than that, it was a smooth getaway.

I went home, had a night of sleep. I cannot say a GOOD night of sleep. I awoke at one thirty and could not fall back to sleep until four. I think I was mostly excited by the prospect of time alone, a business meeting three hours away in the morning and a weekend of fun with my sisters, celebrating the middle one's birthday. It made me realize how important it is to refuel now and then with some ME time.

I got in the car the next morning at seven thirty and hit the road with a new music mix. It was darn near heaven. The weather put on quite a stunning show for me, it seemed. First, everything was shrouded in a high fog, hills and trees coquettishly showed their outline, like a women in fine cotton sans slip. Then, the sun began to break through in motes, rays that look as close to a manifestation of the Holy Spirit as I could ever imagine. By the end of the trip, there was a blinding sun in a cheerful blue sky. It reminded me of a six-year-old's depiction of "sunny day."

The meeeting went well. Met Sissy for lunch of sushi, other Sissy joined us and we got the hairbrained idea to head out to Foxwoods. Not so much hairbrained as AWESOME. It was so fun. Broke-even in the end, but that was after four hours of playing and lovely dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe. I feel like such a "groing-up" (which my sister has just informed should be "growing-up").

So, I leave you to continue my growing-up weekend with a karaoke birthday party. What song shall I sing this evening?

Liam's Road to Nowhere Part II

See the first blog for the story, but here is the video:

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Splish Splash

Liam was taking a bath...

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God Validation

I love the moments in my life of God validation...when instead of imagining God as an overarching ruler hanging out, separated from me by a universe. In these moments, I feel Him here, close, reaching down and stroking my hair as my mother would. It's a wonderful feeling, to be open enough to feel a moment like this. It reminds me of the warmth and elation associated with the first days of spring, when the sun is warm on your face and the breeze still refreshingly cool. These moments say, "Do not worry, I will provide."

My first God validation was when I was about twenty-seven years old. I was working for a company in Manhattan and it was my first real, groing-up job. (groing-up is what my three-year-old calls grown-ups and I just love it!). About four blocks South of my office was a church called Grace Church. I found it, by the grace of God, starting attending, by the grace of God and rediscovered the Christian part of me that craved church. I found community and a spiritual home there. These, however, were not my God Validation moment. My moment came one day, during a Good Friday service, where the ministers of my Episcopal church, and several others in the city, were preaching on the various Lenten readings.

One of the readings, was the story of Jesus' baptism. The minister talked about how we are loved by God and repeated the line, "You are my beloved, in whom I am well pleased." And, for the first time, I felt this unconditional love. This was my first time God was validated for me. This moment was spiritual, logical and emotional, all at once. I ended up in tears. Crying for the grace of a God who saw me, His broken little beloved, as pleasing to Him.

Fast forward to last night. I promised a friend of mine, who is going through some difficulties, that I would pray for her at this lovely little healing service I attend on Wednesday nights at St. Stephen's Church in Ridgefield. I went up for healing, was annointed with oil, and I prayed for her heart to heal, for her boys, for her anger to dissipate. It was today that the validation came. I almost broke into tears, as she relayed the story to me of how she had had a turnaround evening last night. I said to her, "Oh my! Remember when I said I would pray for you? That was last evening." He is good. He is there. God Validation.

Antique Dress-Up

The other day, I came down to find Elena wearing a dress that my grandma had made for me when I was three or four. She had it on in, um, her own style as only Elena can do.





Then, in preparation for Easter, we pulled out some of the family smocked dresses and tried them on for Easter. Elena fits in about four of them at present. Here she is now and in the dresses in the past...I even found one of her aunt wearing one of the dresses!

Elena at one in a dress:


Elena at two in a yellow one:


Elena yesterday:




Aunties in dresses:




I just love these dresses and I have so much fun imagining my great grandmother (the original Grammy) making and hand smocking these dresses. I picture them sitting in a fancy living room, rich, Easter-egg colored fabrics draped around, cutting out little-girl shapes and hand stitching them together. What conversations might they have had while they sewed? Was it a "stitch and bitch" session about husbands who irritate and annoying housework? Were they in quiet reverie? I long to be there for just a moment, to peek into the past. But alas, I am relegated to fingering the soft, aged cotton and imagining.

It's 9:14 AM and 20 Degrees Outside

And I'm contemplating taking the kiddos out to play. I just heard my sister call from upstairs, "Are you losing it?" which was evidence that I am, indeed, losing it. The kids are at such difficult stages. Liam is fully in that pre-two-year-old-wants-everything-and-wants-it-now stage and Elena has lately completed all the requirements for her sibling rivalry badge.

The day goes something like this. Wake up. Get Liam up. While I am getting Liam up, Elena comes into the room, shouting "NO WEEUM, DON'T [fill in the blank here with ANYTHING he is doing]." I have to keep them away from each other to keep her from hurting him and keep him from bursting into huge fits of rage, tears and screaming. He's my vocal child. Crying for him is not a quiet effort. It's a cacophony of screams and wails. You would think someone had parked a pick-up truck on his foot with the amount of noise he makes.

Eventually, something will trigger the screams, and being non-verbal (although very LOUD in his non-verbalness as I may have mentioned), the fit will ensue. This when I pretty much want to check myself into the looney bin. Then, Elena decides it's time to throw in her two-cents. I think she is actually picking up on my distress and trying to stop it, but in her three-year-old brain, the best way to stop it is to yell, even louder than Liam, at him.

So, I now have one screaming child and one bossing screaming child competing for air space. Sometimes, I can tune it out and sing "la la la" in my head. Other times, and I know full well that this is NOT the best method for curbing the behavior, I yell louder than all of them.

My lungs are bigger.

My voice is louder.

And, I am scarier, so they cry...and I cry...and then, the air is cleared and things seem to right themselves.

Does everyone have these devolultions?

There's Just So Much about Autism...

...that we are still learning. Great article here.

I, Me, Mined

All through the day, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
All through the night, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
Now they're frightened of leaving it
Everyone's weaving it
Coming on strong all the time
All through the day I me mine

I-I-me-me-mine, I-I-me-me-mine
I-I-me-me-mine, I-I-me-me-mine

All I can hear, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
Even those tears, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
No-one's frightened of playing it
Everyone's saying it
Flowing more freely than wine
All through the day I me mine

I-I-me-me mine, I-I-me-me mine
I-I-me-me mine, I-I-me-me mine

I am constantly getting this song wedged in my head. It's mostly because this is my life now. Having two kids, two years apart, makes everything, be it toy, scrap of paper, piece of trash, unwanted bread crust, errant newspaper, clipping of toenail, or A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G, a precious commodity to be battled over. Elena can be seen streaming through the house screaming at the top of her lungs, "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! THAT'S MINED!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (I have to spell the way she says, because it makes her serious emphasis of it that much more ridiculous. She continues, "LIAM, THAT IS MY NAPKIN! YOU CANNOT HAVE IT!!!!"

I have not found a magic solution for this behavior yet. My parental instinct is to heave a huge sigh and look crestfallenly (if that can be an adverb) at these two little cherubs whom I birthed. Can you two do nothing but snark at each other? Can you not don a sharing spirit and love each other? Can you not..........siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh?

Need I even report that Liam has mastered the words, Me and Mine already at the age of 18 months? I don't know if it's early or age-appropriate or late, but I do know that there was no escaping these words. Verbally labelling is means of survival in this house.

And you know what? I bet "NO!" is next. Oh joy!

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Liam's Road to Nowhere

When Liam was six months old, he started growling. It was frightening how much it sounded like he was auditioning for a bit part in the Exorcist or chanting REDRUM over and over again. It scared the bejesus out of me. When he was about a year old, his father finally realized he was making that horrible sound whenever he heard an engine, be it a jet in the sky, a boat on the lake, or our own car downshifting. Ever since we realized that, it has been like a lightbulb went on...OUR BOY LOVES CARS.

As is the case with most toddlers, love of cars, has spread contagiously to love of trucks, trains, wagons, bikes, motorcycles, basically anything with wheels. And now, at a year and a half (I almost typed 18 months, but read something recently about how people HATE it when you give them your child's age in months), has started to name the various vehicles...

BOOOOOOOOOAT - this is the latest addition and is, by far, my favorite. Lest you miss it from my spelling, he draws out the O for a very long time and his little rosebud lips form a tiny o themselves...awwwwwwww)
TRACTOR - nobody but immediate family could recognize that he is saying tractor, but, it's contextually correct
CAR (sounds like he is from Boston as he drops the R sound and shortens the A)
Train, which he calls TOOT TOOTS
TRUCK - Sounds an awful lot like sock
BIKE - Sounds suspiciously like BYE
Just recently he's starting saying BEEP BEEP CAR...which I almost want to call a sentence until my mother reminds me that it's really just two nouns hanging out together...oh well.

Since everybody latched on to Liam's love of vehicles, he has been getting wheeled gifts. Planes, trains and automobiles aplenty. We are running out of room at the house which must be makeshift roundhouse, hanger and garage. (And, if one considers his sisters obsessions, jungle, barn, zoo and kennel as well). It's mighty crowded over here.

So, anytime of day, Liam can be seen with a wheeled vehicle in each hand. Whenever his mother, grandmother, aunt or Boppa (grandpa) sits still for a moment, we become his road. He rolls his train or car or truck all over our legs. Some more compliant relatives stretch out yoga-style on the floor to make a full clover leaf of roads for Liam. Others of us require him to use JUST our legs...NOT on our hands, faces, breasts please, Liam.

Liam is not yet a big talker. He's going through a stage where he makes this rather annoying, insistent question noise, but it's always the exact same noise with the exact same intonation. No words. It's almost a whine, unfortunately, so he doesn't always get the answers he desires. But, this morning he would not stop grunting and non-verbally prodding me until I spread the red cozy blanket, which we keep on the couch, over me...Once I did this, he started running his cars up and down my blanketed legs, smiling and growling peacefully. Apparently the cars run smoother on fleecy asphalt.

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Peeping Time

I found a really neat site some time ago. I am thinking I might have even found it through someone's blog, but I honestly can't remember. Being a shutterbug myself, I love to look a photographs. I will sit on Flickr and refresh the "interestingness" button for hours and hours for entertainment. But, I digress and make it about me as usual.

This about a this really neat site I found. It's called timetales and it's a home for found pictures. In some cases, these are lost pictures. In other cases, abandoned. In a rare few, destroyed and restored. I am not one of those people who finds old pictures creepy or depressing (though I have met many who do). No, I find them interesting studies in what people chose to photograph in various time periods. What's nice about this site is the segregation by decade (so if you really aren't into creepy old pictures, you can look at the most recent categories).

As I scrutinize each one, I find myself trying to give the characters in each photo a story, and therefore a home. I even find myself swearing I know them, have seen them before, know a relative of theirs, or insist that they are a long lost relative of mine. In short, don't I know you from somewhere?

Shadow Theatre

Framed Shadow Portrait, originally uploaded by Kikigill.

Let me explain how I took this one. Liam is on my back in the Ergo carrier. The sun was behind us and there is a fence behind us which you can clearly see. The sunlight was streaming in between two trees. We were standing on one side of the street and there is a very steep bank on the other side. The bank on the side of the road provides the leafy backdrop of our shadow theatre.

I just think this shadow portrait is special in its symmetry, patterns and light. I fell like I am on stage in this one. Are the curtains parting or closing?

Did I Already Blog this one?

Botantical Garden 08 053, originally uploaded by Kikigill.

I sure hope not. OK, maybe I am super corny or maybe I am going crazy or maybe I am just falling hard for a flower (or my own photography), but...I think this flower is praying to God. See the light in the top left quadrant? it's God and the flowers are paying Him homage. They are facing His light and basking in His glory.

Liam and His Web Child Ticket

Botantical Garden 08 261, originally uploaded by Kikigill.

I don't know why I thought it funny that the ticket said "Web Child," but I did. It conjured up some platypusian image.

See Post Below

Botantical Garden 08 230, originally uploaded by Kikigill.

This is when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the white door. Zoomed in and...read post below.

There's Kiki!

Botantical Garden 08 235, originally uploaded by Kikigill.

I just love this one. For one reason, Liam was sick, so he's just completely limp and relaxed on my back. He did not pick ONE piece of flora while we were at the Orchid Show! For another reason, I love catching a glimpse of myself "in context."

I still remember the first time this happened. I was walking through a new grocery store (well, new to me) and I saw this long and lean girl walking towards me. I experienced that split second delay between recognizing that it was, in actuality, me in a giant, wall-sized mirror. Turns out I look pretty good out there in the world at large, "in context." It's just when I squeeze my round face into a small mirror that I feel pretty bloated and big.

This was especially cool because I was photographing something in the foreground and then I noticed the reflection behind. Hey, that's a cool-looking nature girl over there...

Spotty Character

Botantical Garden 08 248, originally uploaded by Kikigill.

I was struck by how each and every orchid has its own personality and charm. This one was almost speaking to me, I swear!

Ghost of an Orchid

Botantical Garden 08 251, originally uploaded by Kikigill.

We went to the NYBG this weekend for the 2008 Orchid Show. I will post a few of my favorite pictures on the blog using Flickr. Apparently Flickr and Blogger are now smart enough to speak to each other without my help...ahhh machine to machine communications, isn't technology grand?

And one of Liam...

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

I Had to Make One for Elena!

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Liam the Little Ham

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Freecycle Boycott

Sad but true, the woman who once wrote this:

Friday, October 06, 2006
One Woman's Trash is Another's Treasure
Well, it's official, I have found the best way for me to clear out my closets. I am a freecycling fool! I love to feel like I am giving and, with Freecycle, I get to give away all things individually. My beloved possessions, of which I have so many that I am inundated and drowning and, therefore, no longer "beloving." In the past week, I have given away ten bags of clothes, two bags of books, one dirty toaster oven, baby clothes and bedding, and more I've probably forgotten. For me, Freecycle is the perfect blend between charity and classified ad. I end up feeling that I am giving away to the needy that which they actually NEED. It's pretty cool. So...here it is...

My Ode to Freecycle

Treasure my trash I whisper as I hit send
My smaller size days have come to an end,
So have the bigger ones, no longer with child
I post OFFER: Maternity and the responders go wild.

Most of my items are popular and taken fast
I have yet to see anything out there really last.
You have a broken remote or ancient pair of shoes?
An old pitch fork? Post it! What have you got to lose?

But what about this iron bed I can't seem to get rid of?
Where is the person who will give it some love?
Sure it's broken and needs a little TLC
But, come on folks, it's a an antique, come see!

The irony is I am not a taker, only a giver
The idea of picking up others' clothes makes me shiver!
So, come take my trash and make it your own...
you too can dress yourself and beautify your home!!

Has now had an experience that has soured Freecycle for me. Sad, but true...here is the whole email strand. See what you think:

My request:
A friend of mine has just taken up spinning her own yarn. I am putting this out here on the off chance that someone has an abandoned spinning wheel. I would also love any orphaned knitting supplies! Thanks in advance. Kristen

Her response:
WE NOTICED THAT YOU HAVE NOT YET POSTED AN OFFER TO THE GROUP. PLEASE TRY POSTING AN OFFER BEFORE POSTING ANOTHER WANTED. WE ENCOURAGE OFFERS 2:1. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING.

I sent this back to her:
When I moved last year I posted about 25 offers. I don't have anything to offer right now. Can you please post my wanted?

And then, I forwarded her a copy of an OFFER I had made of a van that she, herself, had responded to at one point.

I then asked:
See...remember me? I freecycled a van! So, will you post my WANTED? In light of the fact that I freecycled for years OFFERing only and now am asking for a few things as I have fallen on hard times?

She responded (longwindedly):
First, We just want to remind you that Freecycle(TM) is not designed to be a wish list or a charitable organization. We are not here to take care of needy families and/or provide gifts to others. Though this may occasionally be the result, it is NOT our primary intent. There are many other organizations in the area that are specifically designed for this. Messages asking for help for
families, etc. will not be approved. This includes all requests for help from/for other charitable organizations.

Freecycle exists as a forum to help people give away items that they would otherwise be throwing away. We are here to OFFER things that we have but no longer want or need. We do not object to wanted ads, but we all need to consider what we are here for and use them wisely.

Second, You just stated that you are asking for a few things because you have fallen on hard times - How is asking for a spinning wheel for a friend a necessity?

My final note back to her:
I thought if someone had a spinning wheel sitting around that I could help them by giving it a home. No big deal.

I think if you look at my history, though, you will see that I have used Freecycle in its intended spirit for years. Sorry, I had no idea I could not post WANTEDs as freely as OFFERs. Sorry.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Well, as I find myself frequently doing, I am using my blog to tell another tale of customer service woe. I almost feel as if I could start a blog expressly for this purpose since the world is rife with poor customer service experiences waiting to grace my phone, email, broadband chat connection...But, UGH!

This time, the customer-service-sucks-ass award goes to HP/Compaq. I had completely planned on coming on here three weeks ago to write a stellar tale of my experience with them repairing my machine. I chatted with a gentleman named Morrie, told him about my broken laptop hinge, cd-drive issue and a couple other little annoyances and they sent a box for my machine, shipped it away, fixed everything, and in fewer than five business days I had my machine back good as new. I was thrilled and patted myself on the back for choosing to buy a Compaq laptop in the first place.

Well, that pleasure was to be short-lived.

When I had the machine fixed, I had on the list of complaints, a loose AC power adapter that seemed fine, but was clearly bordering on dangerous and could they please include a replacement when they returned the machine. I was assured that yes they could and I didn't worry. The machine came back and the AC adapter was the one thing that was not replaced. Unfortunately, as these types of cord injuries are wont to do, it progressed rather rapidly from a state of working to working in only certain positions, to working only with a mug slammed up against it, to working with only a mug and a pile of books pressed against it, to not working at all within a matter of days.

It was on the machine's swan song of battery life that I was able to send out a feeble SOS. Here, wait, I have the chat transcript here in my email box...Let me dig it up:

Thank you for your recent use of HP Real-time Chat Support. For your
records, we have provided a complete transcript of your chat session
below.

NOTE: Please do not reply to this automatically generated message.

For information on keeping your HP and Compaq products up and running
please visit http://www.hp.com/go/totalcare.

Chat Transcript Begins Here
--------------------------------------------------------------
Hello Kristen.

hi there

Welcome to HP Total Care for Presario Notebook. My name is Morrie. How may
I assist you today?

Well, I just got my machine back on Mon

And I had asked for a repair to the cord

and it didn't get fixed

and will not charge the battery due to a loose connectino

can I get a new cord through you?

my order number for the original repair was MSN867-01

Model number is EE394AV

Just to confirm, are you experiencing the problem with DC Jack(point where
we connect AC Adpater to the notebook) or the AC Adapter itself?

DC Jack and it's not the machine, but the cord itself

the connection is loose inside wire

At the terminus right where it connects into the machine

does that make sense?

I understand that you are experiencing the problem with AC Adpater.

Am I right?

yes

Thank you for confirming.

Let me check the warranty status of your notebook

ok

ty

Could you please provide me the serial number and product number of your
notebook?

CND601129K

EE394AV

Thank you for providing the information

I see from our database that your notebook is underwarranty.

Thank you, yes it is

it was just repaired last week

and this was the one thing they forgot to fix

I see.

I will be glad to arrange for the shipping of new AC Adpater free of
cost.

Terrific!

You guys are the best!

Thanks for the compliment.

I mean it! This has been the best experience...every step of the way

Our primary goal is Customer's Satisfaction!

I was just so impressed with how quickly the machine was picked up, fixed
and returned

And I am loving having it fixed

Please provide me the following details

* Name:
* Mailing Address (No P.O. Boxes):
* Apartment/Building/Mailstop:
* City:
* State:
* Zip/Postal Code:
* Phone Number (including area code):
* E-mail:
* Call back time(exact time with time zone):

Kristen Gill

2 THE RIGHT STREET

The Right Town, CT 06The right zip code

Phone number

Name, etc...

1PM ET (If call back is required)

Thank you for providing all the details.

Please provide me few momens while I create the case.

Thanks for your time and patience.

I have created the case and forwarded to concern department.

Here is the case number: 8007726033

You will receive new AC Adapter within 4 business days

Is there anything else I can assist you with today?

Just to make sure, are we still connected?
--------------------------------------------------------------
Chat Transcript Ends Here

Four days went by...no cord and no word. I called the 800 number. I talked to a woman named Sarah who needed me to spell the word Connecticut, Millers and couple of other words that had me a bit scared. Anyhow, the most important part of this conversation was that I THOUGHT they had updated my address in their system.

Chat Transcript Begins Here
--------------------------------------------------------------
Hello kristen.

Welcome To HP Total Care for Presario Notebooks. My name is Kate. How may
I assist you today?

Hi Kate

I am STILL waiting for a cord for my laptop

Could you please provide me with a detailed description of the problem,
which will help me assist you better?

sorry

I was on a business call

OK

Customer service order number: MYQ902-01

I was sent a computer cord, but not to the address where I live. It was
sent to an address where I lived two years ago

I need a new cord sent out ASAP as I cannot power up my laptop and I have not been able to for the last 10 days

Thank you for the information.

Model Number:EE394AV

Could I have a few moments of your time while I search the information for you?

Serial Number: CND601129K

yes

Thank you.

Thank you for sparing your precious time.

Sorry for the delay.

you're welcome

Kristen, I see that the ac adapter is shipped to the following adddress:

GILL KRISTEN
3 WRONG STREET ADDRESS
WRONG TOWN CT WRONG ZIP USA

Yes, I have not lived there for over a year and a half

Please confirm me whether that was the exact address to be shipped.

it is not the address I gave in the chat

Oh I am sorry to hear that@!

the address should have been: Kristen Gill - RIGHT ADDRESS ETC…

Could you please provide me the exact addres for me to ship the part
again?

Kristen Gill

2 CORRECT STREET

CORRECT TOWN

CT

CORRECT ZIP

PHONE NUMBERS, ETC…

Thank you for the information.

Kristen, I will create the case once again and the acadpter will be
shipped with 2-3 bussiness days.

I was told that on Sat

so, can you be sure to email me this time?

Kristen, i will make sure that you will recive the part within said time.

Is that ok?

Is there anything else I can assist you with today?

That's fine
--------------------------------------------------------------
Chat Transcript Ends Here

I was feeling all smug and excited until...I just checked the tracking information for the latest order online and guess where it shipped? Yup, you guessed it...the WRONG STREET ADDRESS, THE WRONG TOWN, THE WRONG ZIP...AGAIN...Now what do I do?

If I Had Three Thumbs...

I'd give them all up for Once.

Indie film. Yes.
Difficult to understand (at times) accents. Yes.
Love story. Sort of, but not really, well, perhaps the love of music.
Amazing film. Phenomenal soundtrack.

I will let you know how enamorate I was with the music in a short story. Immediately after we watched the movie (rented from Netflix), I streamed to my computer to download the soundtrack. I currently have a loose connection on the AC cord that plugs into my computer that required me (for weeks) to twist it just so, then (for days) to slam a heavy object up against it and now has devolved into not charging my laptop unless I am physically holding the connection together. This requires a lot of strength, and hand and finger strength at that. I held the connection together for ten minutes straight and completed the entire iTunes transaction (through numerous unknown error #5002 messages...grrrrrr) with my left hand. I had marks on the hand that was hold the cord and carpal tunnel ache in the left hand, but it was SOOO worth it.

Here, here's a little taste. See if it whets your appetite. And, comment if you saw/like this movie/soundtrack.




(this song is up for an Oscar this year: Best Achievement in Music Written for Motion Pictures, Original Song)