"Things that we learn are no longer enough."

Hoo, boy, I don't even know where to start. Not that much exciting has been happening anyway, so there probably isn't actually even that much to say.

Life has been weird, difficult, trying, unpredictable.

So, you know, pretty much like any other time in my life.

I keep thinking of ways to make things better, steps to take, and I can't seem to muster any motivation when it counts. I'm having a lot, A LOT, of trouble getting things done, finding the persistence to work on my life.

I've been reading a lot, watching movies, the usual modes of procrastination. I've also been using a lot of energy just to get through each day without whacking myself in the face with a hammer, whac-a-mole style.

Again, like any other day.

I really hope I can get things going again on this blog soon. I am really very proud of a lot of the things I've written here, and I don't want to let it go by the wayside. It's been suggested to me recently that this blog has caused me so much trouble that I ought to just take the whole thing down, and that idea made me so sad, really really depressed, so I think I'm going to stick with it a while longer and see what happens. Selfish, maybe; it's just that it has really meant a lot to me, really gotten me through a lot of things to be able to document them here. I enjoy getting it out, working things out in type, and I love and appreciate everyone's comments, advice, encouragement.

There have been times when this blog has been all that has gotten me through the day. I'm just not willing to toss it out yet. Thanks to those of you who are sticking with it with me. I love y'all.

Also...

Today is my mom's birthday.

Tomorrow is Leonard Peltier's parole hearing.

And today through Wednesday Kristi and Chris are taking the bar exam.



Let's think some good thoughts, people!

On Crocs. Of shits.

Okay, so, wait just a minute: has anybody else out there seen this website? It's hilarious! Here are a few of my favorite excerpts:

This is more than a fad and if you would be smart enough to try a pair on you would also understand why smart people were Crocs. Were do people like you have time for creating such stupid websites.

fuck u u fuckin blowjob. i from Korea and i wear crocs. crocs cool!

Nice blog you FUCKIN STUPID ASS DIPSHIT!!!
GET A FUCKIN LIFE!!!
My entire family wheres Crocs. They fuckin rock!
YOU FUCKIN SUCK SHIT!!! WHO GIVES A SHIT ASS FUCK ABOUT FASHION YOU FUCK!!!
FUCK YOUR FUCKIN BLOG!!! FUCK FUCKIN YOU!!!

And let me be clear: I like Crocs. I own two pairs of them. When I worked at the flower shop and had to be on my feet all day long and had to run back and forth and carry 35 pound buckets of water and foliage and the floors were slippery and it was hot in the summer and I didn't want to wear tennis shoes, these were GREAT. I wore them with socks in the winter. I loved them. My feet almost never hurt, and when they did it was only mildly.

But they are some of the GOOFIEST shoes I have ever seen, hands-down, just ridiculous. JUST RIDICULOUS.

Hilariosity.

From this article on this website:

Cats are dangerous in numerous ways: they have sharp claws and teeth; they can navigate in the dark using a complex navigation system embedded in their heads called “whiskers,” thus giving them an advantage during blackouts; and the only flesh they enjoy more than pig is newborn babies. So you make your choice. Will it be Mr. Jangles, or your precious, precious baby?

City Stages.

Lindsey and I will be covering City Stages for al.com this weekend, and I'm very excited about it- Lindsey does write-ups and video, and I do photographs and severe inebriation.

I am particularly excited about the Indigo Girls, Jonny Lang, Guster, and the Pine Hill Haints.

Here's to being ridiculously sweaty and being tossed about by thousands of people!

A couple of things...

My friend Lindsey writes a really neat blog for al.com, and I've been lucky enough to attend a couple of shows with her to take pictures for said blog. You should check it out.

First, here's where we went to see the Ting Tings.

Second, here's where we went to see G Love and the Special Sauce.

YES.

From this post on this blog:

I love the heft of your warm body
your outflung hands
your curious glances
but seriously, kid.
Could you do me a solid
and hang on when I carry you?
Consider the
koala
or perhaps the
tree frog.
Both fine examples
of the methodology I would prefer
that you employ
instead of this business
that involves my left arm
falling
the
fuck
OFF.

It's like she lives inside my head, the head that resides somewhere above the stiff neck and sore shoulders of a person who is still carrying a three-and-a-half-year-old who likes to dangle like a potato sack.

AHA.

I want to talk for a moment about something that's on all our minds: vaccinations.

Okay, so it's not on anybody's minds. It hasn't been on my mind for some time as Reed has been caught up on his shots for some time; I think he was probably around 2 or 2 1/2 the last time he had to get any immunations. But it's on my mind now, and I have a few things that I'd like to say.

When I was pregnant I read a LOT of pregnancy and child-rearing books. I think by the time Reed was born I had read eight or ten of them. Any time I ran across an article or website on the subject I'd read that, too. I was pretty much terrified, and the more knowledge I soaked up about the process of pregnancy, labor, and raising a kid, the calmer I felt about all of it. You can never know everything, but in my opinion you can never know too much, either.

One of the issues that started to stick out for me was childhood immunizations and their pros and cons. This has been a hot-button issue for several years, not least because some people claim that there is a link between these immunizations and the occurance of autism. The link seems to revolve around the use of thiomersal as a preservative in vaccines. Besides autism a lot of parents find that their kids have pretty severe adverse reactions to some immunizations like rashes and bad fevers and whatnot.

Listen, I am no expert, but I have read up on both sides of this debate and I have to tell you by the time Reed was born I was really worried about these vaccinations and what effect they were going to have on my tiny baby. Pregnancy is not a condition that is known for shoving one chock full o' logic and reason which is partly why I did so much reading: I wanted to be aware of what was realistic to be worried about and what wasn't.

My opinion by the time Reed got here was that it was realistic to be worried about it. Once he was here, once I knew him, the idea of something changing him (Jerkface get off my wording here, I know that "something" will eventually change my kid, but I think you get my point here) or of my making a choice that might alter his abilities horrified and terrified and paralyzed me. A lot of this was a result of some severe postpartum depression that I have only recently gotten a handle on. I mean, driving with Reed in the car I would think "What if I get in a wreck and he gets hurt?" and when he slept I would think "What if he chokes or stops breathing and I don't hear him?" OF COURSE after all that reading I was going to think "What if I get Reed all those immunizations and he stops making eye contact with me or stops saying a word that he says now?" PARALYZING.

After talking to Reed's pediatrician about it we decided- the doctor, Jason, and I- that Reed would get his immunizations but on a slower schedule than the schedule recommended by most pediatricians. The norm is to shoot your kid up with a LOT of vaccines in a short amount of time, sometimes four or five in one doctor's visit, and I didn't like that. Reed's doctor was understanding and kind and cooperative, and helped us work out a schedule that made me feel a lot better.

At some point a person who I was very close to judged me, openly ridiculed me for my concerns, and it hurt and embarrassed me and ultimately played a part in my total alienation from that person. That person had no children of her own and was very open about never wanting to have kids. She was also in the medical field which I'm sure is part of what made her so sure of herself in her judgements.

Again, I haven't really thought about it much in past year or so, but then I read this post on Dooce and reading what Heather has to say about it really made me feel good about all of it. I appreciate what she's saying about the real and extreme dangers involved in not immunizing your children. But what I really like in this post is her interest in other people's thoughts and her ability to welcome differences of opinion while still expressing her own.

Basically I am meandering around this point: Please, please, whether you have kids or don't have kids, want kids or don't want kids, know kids or don't know kids, allow your friends to grow and learn and work towards their own decisions without the added pressure of your impending gauntlet-throwing. It is always helpful to engage in discussion and debate on these kinds of topics, and if you're lucky everyone involved will learn something from them. But let's all take the time to either sympathise or empathise with how difficult, how mind-blowing, how crippling parenting can feel for some of us. Please know that when someone you love is trying to make any of the myriad important decisions associated with being a mom or a dad that that someone is probably trying really very hard to make the right decision when there is no right decision there. BE SUPPORTIVE, for fuck's sakes, and if you feel differently about something than your parent friend then talk to them about it. Make it a discussion, not a ruling.

Incidentally, Reed had what I'm pretty sure was an adverse reaction to one of his rounds of immunizations once. It scared the shit out of me. Of course the doctors at the emergency room didn't want to discuss whether or not it was related to the vaccine- they literally wouldn't say whether or not they thought the two things were related. But it made all of my fears and concerns and paranoia feel real, logical, tangible. I am a crazy bitch, but that doesn't mean that every thought I have is crazy.

It's kind of like how Taco Bell is really kind of a shithole, but not everything that they make there sucks. You know?

They call me her.

Tonight it's off to the Ting Tings at Workplay, courtesy of my friend Lindsey and her sweetass blog.

Whatever will be will be.

Oh and here's a blog I like to read, only I just don't read it super-often because she doesn't post nearly enough.

Anyway, I read this post here and it's pretty perplexing, so I clicked on the comments and read through several, and this one made me particularly happy. Good stuff.

Olive oil. Seriously, if it worked for Cleopatra, who are we to argue? This is how I do it:

Pick a night where you're going to stay in anyway. Plan on wearing a button-down flannel or pajama shirt and hanging out in front of some cheesy dvds.

Fill your palm with just about a teaspoon of olive oil, no more. Really you don't need much at all; it spreads like an oil slick (oddly enough). Massage this into your scalp. Don't worry so much about the ends of your hair, but go ahead and dig those fingers into your itchy, grouchy scalp till you start making noises like the lady in that risque Clairol Herbal Essences commercial where she somehow miraculously washes AND DRIES her hair in an airplane bathroom. (Who IS this woman? I can barely manage to wash and dry my HANDS in an airplane bathroom. You should take my advice anyway, though.)

Ok, now it gets weird: take a plastic grocery bag and pull it around your hair till you can knot the handles at the top of your forehead like Aunt Jemima. The heat from your head in that suffocating plastic pretty much melts the oil into your scalp and hair. At first you feel a little goofy, but after a while your head gets all warm and happy and you start grooving with it, especially if you thought ahead and opened a bottle of wine and popped in a movie before your hands got all greasy and now you're watching Roman Holiday through a chianti haze. You want to do this for at least 20 minutes.

Now head to the bathroom, carefully remove the plastic bag, and wash your hair. (This is where the button-down shirt comes in handy, because your hair is a mess and you don't want to try to pull anything over your head. You may also be wondering why on earth you trusted some internet lurker, but it's far too late now so just go with it.) Shampoo twice, thoroughly massaging the scalp again and rinsing the shampoo all the way from roots to ends, and condition once if it's the rinse-out kind. No leave-in stuff this time. (Ok, look, you can always put in tamer tomorrow if it gets out of hand.) DO NOT - I repeat: DO! NOT! use a hairdryer. Towel dry and make yourself a turban and go finish that movie and bottle of wine. Some cheesecake at this point is also nice.

You can go to bed with your hair still wet if you're not particularly prone to cowlicks. Tomorrow morning, after delightful dreams of Gregory Peck on a Vespa, you will wake up with some seriously bodacious cornsilk locks.

Seriously, I might just do this for fun one night this weekend. Anyone who wants to join me, grab a plastic grocery bag and head on over.

I stole- I STOLE- this from Dooce. It's a marriage/relationship meme. Leave your answers in the comments!

Also, in rereading this I realized that this whole post illustrates perfectly the manic, a.k.a. entire, side of my personality.

What are your middle names?
Andrew and Claire.

How long have you been together?
We've been married for a little over five years, and we were together for a year before we got married, for a total of six years.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
I think we'd known each other for about six months, maybe a year, before we started "dating", a term I use loosely because we were horny and broke so there weren't a lot of "dates" there in the beginning- unless perpetual sex with a few cigarette breaks thrown in for good measure counts. Hi, mom!

Who asked whom out?
Hm, who did ask whom out? I can't seem to remember... I'm having these odd flashes of myself standing in a bar asking Jason to come home with me... But I don't think that has anything to do with it.

How old are each of you?
I am 29 and Jason is 14. I don't care, he's 14, with just a little bit of 18 thrown in for good measure with all this motorcycle stuff.

Oh, have I not mentioned that? Jason bought a motorcycle; consequently I've started drinking frequently again.

Whose siblings do you see the most?
I suppose we see my sister the most, on account of Reed's second home is my mom's house where India lives. My mom is Reed's Ma and India is his Da. Ma and Da: So Happy Together.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Money, definitely. It sucks that we let it get to us, but it's all very hard, what with my frequent and painful unemployment flare-ups and habitual money-spending, and Jason's I Never Ever Spend Money Ever Except In Secret When You Least Expect It. I think we've magically found a place where we stress out a little less about it, though, and it's been good for our marriage. Our checking account hasn't fared quite as well.

Did you go to the same school?
No. Jason went to somewhat-ghetto, and then somewhat-ghetto-Christian, and I went to possibly-trashy-redneck-or-maybe-just-country. I'm a little bit country, he's a little bit rock and roll.

Are you from the same home town?
If we were out of town and someone asked us where we were from, I think we'd both say Birmingham, so in that way, yes. But really no.

Who is smarter?
It depends on how you're gauging it. Jason can remember hundreds of bread and pastry recipes he has used at past jobs. I can manage to wait until a shirt I really want is clearanced to about 10% of its original price and still get the size and color I want. When the Wonder Twins unite, we form an unstoppable force that will one day rule the world with all our bread and shirts.

Who is the most sensitive?
Well shit, anyone who is reading this who actually knows me knows exactly who it is. It starts with "ME" and ends with "WHAT OF IT, AND WHY DID YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT IN YOUR SLEEP LAST NIGHT?".

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
The local Mexican restaurant, hands down. Jason's butt suffers as a result.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
Savannah, Georgia, on our honeymoon. But that'll all change in about two weeks when we go to Costa Rica. Have I not mentioned that?

Who has the craziest exes?
Do you people READ this blog? Because the answer is JASON, JASON HAS THE CRAZIEST EX, NO PLURAL NEEDED BECAUSE SHE'S CRAZY ENOUGH FOR ALL HIS EXES PUT TOGETHER AND WHEN YOU THROW HER NEW HUSBAND WHO SHE MET IN THE NUTHOUSE INTO THE MIX THEY CRAZY ENOUGH FOR EVERYBODY'S EXES, EVERY EX I'VE EVER KNOWN, THEY CRAZY MILKSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD AND THEY'RE LIKE, IT'S BIGGER THAN YOURS.

Who has the worst temper?
Jason has an Irish temper that explodes like a bomb when he gets mad, and I have a French and Indian temper that seethes and lurkes just under the surface sneering and smoking cigarettes and drinking a cocktail, ready to just SNAP, CRACKLE, and POP YO ASS. And you just shut your fucking mouth if you have anything to say about it.

Who does the cooking?
We both do, really. I never cooked much before Jason came along, and he always cooked, and cooked well, and isn't afraid to experiment and toss a little of this and a little of that, including my salad. BAH! Now I cook quite a bit, too.

But I don't toss salad.

Who is the neat-freak?
Oh, wow, have I ever written here about socks? The socks, here, there, and everywhere? How the socks whisper to me in the night, how I hear the voices of the socks inside my head, all the live-long day? How I live with FOUR BOYS and that's EIGHT SOCKS A DAY?!? Okay, I have to move on; my hives are coming back.

Who is more stubborn?
I am certain that Jason and I would both say that each of us is simultaneously THE MOST STUBBORN and THE LEAST STUBBORN, about ourselves and about each other, at exactly the same time just as loud as we could force our voices to go.

When Jason and I had been together for about two months I still lived in a teeny, tiny efficiency apartment with a little bitty bathroom, and Jason decided to tell me one day how every time you flush the toilet germs and particles and shit from the toilet spray as far as a six foot radius around the toilet. As six feet was the approximate size of the whole goddamn apartment I WIGGED OUT and decreed that from then on, we would both always ALWAYS put the lid down before we flushed NO MATTER WHAT. From that day forward, I have put the lid down every time, every single bleeding time, that I have flushed the toilet. Jason has not done it once, in spite of my constant nagging, my daily complaints, my frequent prophecies that one day we'll all die and it will be because Jason wouldn't put the lid down. NOT ONE TIME. What does that say about our stubborness?

Who hogs the bed?
Jason's favorite sleeping position is on top of me with 750,000 decibel snores screaming out of his nose. I don't want to talk about it.

Who wakes up earlier?
Jason does. He gets a good night's sleep, lying on top of me with his snore-nose screaming in my ear, and he leaps out of bed revived and refreshed at 6am most mornings to have a nice shit, shower, shave, and fresh cup o' joe, while I stay in bed, covered from the top of my head to the tips of my toes with three heavy blankets except for my lone, tiny fist escaping from the edge of the covers, shaking at him in protest.

Where was your first date?
I think I had a clever answer for this, but I'm just so tired after that last answer.


Who is more jealous?
That would be me, YOU STUPID BITCHES YOU BETTER STEP OFF BEFORE I WARP YOU WITH A TIRE IRON.

How long did it take to get serious?
In the first three months of our relationship, I lost 25 pounds because I was so in love with him, so uninterested in eating, so interested in getting into his panties and then having a cigarette, so consumed by everything about him. It sounds melodramatic, but I was absolutely love sick over Jason. It was very serious very fast.

Who eats more?
That's a toughy; I think we eat similar amounts. Jason's metabolism is definitely higher. We can eat a dinner like pasta with alfredo sauce, broccoli, and grilled chicken, and one hour later Jason will pour himself a huge bowl of frosted mini-spooners for dessert.

Who does the laundry?
I do more laundry than Jason does. He can't seem to noodle the fact that I don't dry my work clothes and my nice shirts. I try to be specific and say things like, "You can wash and dry our socks, underwear, t-shirts, and pajamas, and all of Kane, Jude, and Reed's stuff." And, "The pants that I wear to work are not for the drier." Alas, it's still too confusing. The man can take apart a motorcycle and put it back together, he can clean rust out of the inside of a gas tank with naval jelly (ew!) and screws, but he can't train his brain to look at a shirt and decide if it's one that I wear to bed or one that I wear to work. Science. IT'S FUCK ALL.

Who's better with the computer?
Until about two years ago the answer was a resounding I AM. But now Jason has had all this training in all these programs like Photoshop and Microsoft Word and all that, so I think the playing field has been leveled. I can still type his ass into a corner, though.

Who drives when you are together?
It really doesn't matter. Either way the person in the passenger seat is going to be screaming profanities and clutching the arm rest and Reed will be in the back seat saying, "You not post to say that!"

Six weeks until Costa Rica. Bitches.

Now for movies and crap.

And if you don't know, now ya know.

Happy day, Martin Luther King, Jr.

This weekend was a really good one. It's not frequent that I have the urge to write, hey, things were good, so I felt like I ought to write it seeing as how I thought it. Mexican Train, rap music, and homemade pizza with some of my favorite people- good times.

I'm about to make a whole mess of new jewelry; I'm just waiting on a few slow arrivals, some new supplies, to get started. My Etsy is somewhere around a year old now. Considering the during the first ten months I made something like 8 sales, and then in the last two months I've made something like 14 more, I'd say things are looking up.

I'm about to get in touch with George at Speakeasy and talk to him about having another show like last year's. I'm hoping he'll be cool with it. We had such a great time and sold so much stuff.

It's all quiet on the shithead front right now. If I was stupid enough to think that meant that things were calming down, getting better, I might feel good about it. But I've lived this life long enough to know that it just means there's some scheming going on, and it makes me nervous.

I poop frequently these days.

HA! Snuck it in there on you. I haven't talked about my bowel movements in a while. Gotcha.

Reed has been using the potty most of the time. Once a couple of weeks ago he even went to the potty, used a chair to turn the light on, pooped, and came back and laid down on the futon at bedtime without even telling me about it. I discovered the poop in the potty and asked him and he was like, "Yeah." Like, "Of course I pooped in the potty, Philistine, where else would I have pooped?" I think all we have left to work on is peeing in the middle of the night. It must be hard to train your body not to pee in the night when it's so used to doing so. But we'll get there.

Well, I guess we also have to work on standing up and peeing instead of sitting down, because I have to tell you, more than once in the past couple of days we've had a pee arc that manages to soak everything in the room- Reed's clothes, the bathmat, anything in a three foot radius of the toilet. The child produces a lot of urine, just like his mama.

Finally if you haven't looked yet, you should check out Daily Doo and Talkies Are Dumb.

Spreading it thin.

And now I'm writing a movie blog. It shall be one part critique and three parts ass.

Some new reading..

I've mentioned plenty of times before that I read Dooce.

I've found a couple of new blogs that I enjoy. One is Whoopee! Absolutely hilarious. Makes me want to be British.

Then there is Fuck You, Penguin, which Jason can't stop talking about. He literally spent twenty minutes trying to find it last night and, when I finally found it for him, he collapsed into giggles for the next twenty minutes on the couch.

Ah, a year's worth of posts.

This is my 365th post. If you start reading my blog today and read one entry per day it will take you one year to read the whole thing. Of course, I'll keep posting, so it will actually take you longer, so it's actually meaningless.

Anyways, this post is coming from my Mama's house as our internet has finally disappeared. Phone and cable had been cut off long ago but the internet stayed; I assumed we were picking up someone else's wifi. Alas, no it's gone, so our internetting will be few and far between.

This week I am working on another article for Lipstick and continuing the job hunt.

Also, it appears that my check card has been stolen. I have no idea when it happened as we've had so little money I haven't even attempted to use it in about two weeks. Now it's suddenly not in my wallet.

I'm glad bad things rarely happen to us, so when bad things like this happen I can manage to be all, "Oh, well. It's not that bad. At least the rest of my life is going swimmingly."

Hodge podge.

I have several things I'd like to get to in this post, so this one is going to be a bit all-over-the-place.

First, I am very, very sad and worried for someone that I love who has just experienced a death in her immediate family. This past several months have been overwhelming, I imagine, and this probably seems like more of a load than you can bear. Don't forget to lean on the people around you who love you when it feels like too much for you. I love you so much, and I know a lot of other people who love you so much, too.

Next, I have been without cable for some time, and for whatever reason we can't really pick up any of the local channels either. Besides all the ridiculous sitcoms and out-of-touch-with-reality medical dramas that some people in this house have been despondent to be missing, we also haven't been able to watch many of the current political dramas. I realize that stuff like that can be viewed on the internet, but I spend so much time job-hunting on the internet that I usually am sick of it by the time there is a moment for anything else.

Point is, this post from Dooce contains a video that makes me simultaneously want to claw my own eyes out and throw my computer out the window. Of course I had already heard about most of this, but just now is the first time I've actually watched it. Mind-boggling.

In similar news, I may be going to drink beer and watch the debates tonight. Look at me taking part! I am impressing myself.

Summer lovin'.

Summer is almost over around here in Alabama; usually we're still baking down here, but it has been uncharacteristically cool. Today has been grey, rainy, and dare I say chilly.

We are inching up on the two-year birthday of this blog, as well as my 365th post, which really just means that pretty soon if you start reading my blog you could read one post per day and it would take you one year to read the whole thing. Of course, that will only last for one day; as soon as I make my 366th post it will take you 366 days to read it.

You can see how much time I have on my hands these days.

In other news, I have just finished cleaning a poop log out of the bath tub. This is why you have kids, folks: because without them, you don't get to clean up nearly enough poop. Unless you have Myrna Minkoff. She provides poop to clean up as well.