How Long Gone?

It hasn't quite been 6 months since the last post, but close enough. Thanks to Mike C for missing me!

Well, things here in Friedmopolis are as crazy as ever with Lennie either at school or studying 18 hours a day... Every day... For the last half year. How is it that some people can survive on 5-6 hours of sleep? For me, anything less than 8 1/2 and I'm like a creature from the Thriller video. But he's goal-oriented and focused. He wants all A's. I want 8 1/2 hours of sleep and a cookie.

Anyhoo, these paintings are how I've passed the long lonely hours. Sorry Ella, you're cute and all but you can't even say the word, "Milk." Our conversations aren't as stimulating as I'd like. But when I say you're cute, I really mean it. Now practice, "Mmmmmiiiiiillllk"


Seahorses, 36x36. So much fun to paint this one!

Lennie's portrait, 24x36. Much more labor intensive, but there is a plus side. Lennie is totally humiliated by the fact there is a portrait of himself hanging in our living room. Next time, I am going to transpose his face onto a centaur (just like Alex Rodriquez's girlfriend claims he has in his house) and title it, "Oh Mighty Beast."

This last one is just me playing with pretty colors (36x48). This one has so much paint on it that I might have been high on the fumes -but hopefully the brain damage was minimal. But really, who can tell?

I hope everyone who still occasionally checks in to see if I'm alive is surviving their own busy Decembers. Have a great Holiday Season!

I Kiss the Hand that Smacks Me

I've come to the conclusion that carrying around an almost-one year old on your hip all day is the equivalent to having sprouted a small, but mischievous and uncontrollable third arm. This little arm spends it's day reaching out to ensnare any passing object. I am no longer alarmed when large things come crashing to the ground directly behind me. I just know the arm did it.
For example, this morning while walking out of the laundry room, a large basket of neatly folded clothes jumped off the top of the dryer, dumping the formerly folded clothes all over the ground. And there was my little third arm, waving excitedly at all the action.

Have you ever tried to type an email while your crazy third arm randomly hits computer buttons? The results are quite interesting, I assure you. This is usually when I tuck the third arm under my chin in an attempt to pin it down for 15 seconds so I can not hit "Reply All" when I don't mean to.

This arm can also inflict pain. My little arm likes to grab hair. Most especially short people between the ages of 4-6, who like to follow me around and whose heads are right at my third arm's-height. My little arm also grabs my own hair, and/or earrings and so I spent a significant amount of time with my head cocked to one side, muttering, "Oooo oooo ooo!"

Sometimes, my little arm can be helpful though. It does a good job holding car keys while I load up groceries into the trunk of the minivan. It is also pretty cute and dimply. All in all, I think I'll miss my choas inducing havoc wreaking little third arm once it develops some common sense.

And then he smoked a cigarette.

Aww, isn't it so cute? The doggy wuvs the baby. Aren't they so sweet together? Look at how precious! Nothing could spoil this moment of cuteness. Nothing at all.





Ew. I take that back.

Wordless Wednesday...almost

Here's to hope

Hershey and Smuckers, no no no

Thanks for all the well wishes! Little Ella finally seems to be on the upswing. We took her to the doctor on Saturday and it turns out she has bronchitis. I swear, this time of year I just want to pack everyone up and go live on a 1000 acre ranch somewhere, where the only viruses that can find us are viruses that can crash my husband's Blackberry.
Ok, instead of blogging, I really need to be running off the chocolate bar dipped in peanut butter I ate for second dinner last night...and possibly again tonight. Damn you, Lennie, for buying 32 Hershey bars from BJ's. I know you called to ask me if I really wanted you to buy thirty two chocolate bars, and I said, "No problem, I have willpower when it comes to chocolate," but as it turns out, I don't. And, I blame you. After 14 years together, you should know these things.

The best part about growing up is the access to NyQuil

You know, I've been thinking tonight about Ella. She has a nasty cold, and it really has to suck to be a baby with a cold. All she wants out of life is to just suck her damn thumb and go to sleep, but she can't. Everytime she eagerly slips her tiny pink thumb into her mouth and starts to contentedly suck away, the picture of perfect blisss, her moment of peace is abruptly destroyed by the startling lack of air when she tries to breathe in through her plugged-up nose. Damn. That's like having to pee really badly, and you just get a good stream going when all of a sudden someone busts down the door and you have to try to stop and grasp frantically at your pants. It's just not natural. I think we take complete peeing for granted, just like we take being able to breathe out of our noses for granted.

Also, she can neither blow her nose nor snort all the goodies down her throat. I have to suck the snot out for her with the bulb of torture, while HOLDING HER ARMS DOWN. The only way she can express her frustration is to cry, which also hurts because she has a sore throat from having to breathe through her mouth all the time.

That pretty much sucks and blows. Poor baby Ella, Mommy understands.

What is Light without Darkness?

I've just figured out that Wednesday is the evil but necessary glue that holds the rest of the week together. It's putridness makes us appreciate the sweetness of Saturday so much more. Not to mention the fact that every damn newscaster on CNN keeps saying, "Happy Hump Day." It makes me want to die every time I hear it. Remember 'Legend,' that awesome Tom Cruise movie from way back? Yeah, well, Lord of Darkness = Wednesday.



Also, it's about 42 degrees and rainy here today and I am generally feeling a little tired of all the Wednesdayishness.

So, here are some fresh young things that are helping to tide me over until Spring, or at least Saturday.

A lemon blossom from my kitchen (which smells like a drop of heaven)


Pumpkin seedlings.


Strawberries


Begonias, which unfortunately is on the decline because I haven't yet figured out how to care for a begonia.

I said "young and fresh," didn't I?

Almost (but not quite)

A mousetrap.

Sitting up.

Excited.

Gentle.

Sorry.

Remember that time I almost killed you?

So this week, Ella taught herself how to suck her thumb and OH MY GOD. Why didn't she figure this out as a fetus? What a difference it has made now that she has a way to calm herself down. She is an all-natural child who hates pacifiers and is enraged by bottles, so the discovery of her thumb fits in perfectly with her organic preferences. This, combined with the little bit of baby food she is eating now, and retirement is on the horizon for my poor tired boobs. They're so excited, they're already heading South for winter.

Anyway, in the car on the way home from Aunt La La's house last night, Ella did not appreciate being in her carseat. And, by unappreciative, I mean she was red faced, toes pointed, fists out, eyes clenched, SCREAMING. Rolling down the windows and driving at high speeds did nothing, and for some reason she could not find her thumb. This prompted back seat Mommy Sayde to shout "SUCK IT, ELLA, SUCK IT! SUCK IT, ELLA, SUCK IT!"

On a totally unrelated topic, I've been "shushed". Yesterday, for the first time ever, we had a photographer come to the house to take a family picture. And while we were discussing what options we might want, Lennie said we were not interested in Christmas cards. As I began to interject that yes, we are interested in Christmas cards, he gave me the old shusharoo gesture with his hands...twice. Fuck. Now I have to go to prision for murder.

Today if you asked Lenie why I have matching zits on each side of my forehead, he'd say they are Devil Horns.

In other news, it is my birthday today.

A Brief History of the United States of America...Just Kidding, sorta

Did you know that the Democratic Party was at first called the Republican Party? It was founded by Thomas Jefferson, who was in favor of a Republic, as opposed to strong monarch-type federalist governments. Yes ,you heard that right, the Democratic Party was originally for smaller, weaker federal government. It took the name "Democratic-Republican Party "during the French Revolution and it wasn't until the election of 1824 when it finally split into the two party system we have today, with the Democrats backing Andrew Jackson, and the Republicans backing Henry Clay and John Quincy Adams. Don't say I never blogged about anything besides spiders and crack.

George Washington, however, was opposed to political parties and in his farewell address to the nation upon his leaving office, he stated:

"...the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it. It serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another, foments occasionally riot and insurrection."

Yeah, I know, I should have warned you to start taking shots of whiskey before reading my post today (well, I kind of did). I had to read Washington's words like 4 times to understand them. But basically, Washington thought political parties inspired anger towards the opposition, mischief and distraction from the real issues at hand. Pretty relevant for something written in 1796.

212 years later, it has devolved into this: While waiting in the check out line at the grocery store, the clerk said they were giving out free baby bibs. She held up two choices and asked which one I wanted. I chose this:





And then was simultaneously boo'ed and cheered by the people in line behind me. Somehow, I think this is exactly what George Washington was worried about. And this?

Most likely not what Thomas Jefferson had in mind.

Tweestie Schmeetsie

Remember when I told you how much fun Ella had on the Tweetsie Railroad?

Tweetsie

Hmmm, that's an odd title for a post. It's also an odd title for an amusement park in the Blue Ridge Mountains, but it exists nonetheless. Tweetsie is "famous" (famous as in I've never heard of it before this weekend) for the Tweetsie Railroad. It's a 3 mile train ride through the mountains on this old timey coal burning train, complete with Cowboys and Indians . It was the only ride Ella got to do the whole time we were there, and she took advantage of this opportunity by being scared shitless every time the Tweetsie whistle blew. It blew quite often, unfortunately. I got pretty quick on the draw at cupping my hands over her ears to block out the LOUDEST FUCKING WHISTLE EVER, but alas, it didn't seem to help. She spent the 45 minutes of train riding fun alternating between being startled into red faced wild eyed screaming, and then panting her way back to being just calm enough for the whistle to blow again. Of course, we were right in the very front of the first train car because Sayde has a superiority complex. If I had a matchbox car in my purse, as I usually do, I would have whipped it at this grouchy lady who was giving me the stink eye as I bounced Ella as fast as my knees could go. Instead, I just smiled at her, and to my delight that really seemed to piss her off.
I'll have to post the pictures later because Lennie brought his old film camera as a backup.

It wasn't all bad though. We enjoyed Dr. Peppercorn, a teenage magician with 6 daily shows at Tweetsie's. He pulled a couple of kids from the audience to be his assistants for his various card tricks. Connor frantically waved his hand every time Dr. Peppercorn needed a volunteer. At one point, he turned to me in desperation and pleaded, "Mommy, when is it going to be my turn?" The chances of him getting a turn weren't very good since he's only 3 (well, almost 4), so I just said, "Let's see", which is Momish for "No f'ing way". But, Dr. Peppercorn must have descended from Heaven that day because he did pick Connor on the very next trick. Connor scrambled up to the stage, told everyone that his name was Connor and that he was from North Carolina, and then held his card on the table just like he was instructed to do. Then, my proudest Mommy moment ever occurred. Dr. Peppercorn asked Connor what the magic word is, and Connor said Please. I could have died right there. I wish the bitch from the train was there to see that.
Connor, you make a Mommy proud. Ella....oh Ella. You're good for kissing, but not for train riding.

Meet Ella

Her real name is Eliana, but we just call her Ella. She is my youngest, born in June '08. So far, Ella is brave, she loves the action in our home, she craves the attention of her older sis and bro and gets angry when she doesn't have it, she smacks the table with her palms when she's hungry, loves to bounce, she smiles easily and touches my face when she's happy. She is my joy and she knows it. Ella wants to be the Queen of Sheba when she grows up - oh no wait, that's me.