help Richard Hambleton!

My mother's husband's name is Richard Hambleton, he is a grandfather of three and he has Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia.
He has smoked over 30 years and has tried to stop before, but today he is still a smoker.
This year for mother's day we are buying my mom a treatment program to help her stop smoking and we thought it would only be fair to have them both quit. But we've only got so much cash to push around.

So as you might have noticed, there is a Paypal donate button on my sidebar for those who would like to help him kick the habit.
We all love Rich and want to see him get better.

As they say, no donation is too small.

spring spruce up

As you may have noticed, I changed my banner, but I'm still working on it.
I'm incredibly impatient, so I had to thow down what I had so far.
The banner is frought with symbolism, frought I tell you.

take that, name doubters!

Thanks to Aurora for bringing this validating video clip!

this is not the way it should work

The baby has begun arbitrarily screaming, really loud.
It can mean that she's upset but often it's just a statement as if to say "Hey, I can scream."
I realize lots of children scream. But those kids know the word "no," or the concept of "if you keep screaming, I will _____."
But she doesn't.
I think I'm losing my hearing.

Baby Tuesday

Reuters, SF-
Baby takes bath in tub without assistance of infant tub, say parents.
Baby C (name withheld to protect the innocent) of Sockswithsandalsland, CA has successfully taken her first real bath only days after she graduated from the baby carrier to riding in the shopping cart when grocering. Her mother states that the grocery cart was undeniably unsanitary but insisted that a cart cover is in the works for future visits. When asked which toys the baby prefered, she disclosed that Baby C likes toys that are not toys: ribbons, paper, food wrappers and jewelry.


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photo credit: K. Marie T. 

he asked for it

Yes, I have joined the youth of America 1) with my iPod and 2) with Myspace.

And there's alot of strange stuff on Myspace, and I'm not talking about the obvious scantily clad 15 year olds and satan worshippers.
I've gotten a few "fishes" from strangers that I'd like to lampoon, but I have deleted them deservedly, but now I'm frustrated that I can't make fun of them.
(They were usually trying to sell me on something)
So I'll just have to settle on clowning the latest one:

This is my letter to John. Please click, it's necessary to illustrate my points.

John, John, John, what are you doing? I think you need a therapist. Your friend list is soley filled with hussies or girls that are "needy n' nice." Step back and look at your profile. Do you feel like what the kids call a "pimp," a "G" or "Ladies Love Cool J"? It's not going to make you happy, these strange women. It's only going to waste your time that you could be spending, um working towards goals or something.

And what, may I ask, are you doing sending a message to a married woman? "Truth or Dare?" Tsk tsk. Where's your mother?

John, I won't be your "friend" but I'll be your friend and tell you the path you're on leads to ruin.
Doctor Charlie is prescribing 2cc's of strong male role model and 50mg of cold showers.

Kind regards,
Scatterbrain

Everyone is out to get your coffee!

K and I aren't really coffee drinkers. I like coffee, and I definitely drink it when I'm tired or when it's a social thing, but I'm not a daily java person.
But has anyone (other than my husband) noticed that anybody who's trying to get you to buy something tells you "for the price of a cup of coffee" or "it's the same amount as your cup of coffee." ?
Everyone wants that disposable income from you. I remember there was a less than agreeable patient of ours and she tried to explain how her vitamin sales business was going to make her rich.
She used the "well you know people buy coffee, so they could spend the same amount on daily supplements."
Yeah, they could, but they won't.
Then she tried to use that logic on me. It didn't matter to her that I didn't really drink coffee, didn't have disposable income, and if I had had that extra 50 bucks a month, I probably wouldn't be riding the bus to work.

And I also think, gosh if someone out there really is spending 50 bucks a month on Starbucks, they've got problems. Christian Childrens Fund could actually be part of their detox program, and they should send that money away to a child in Zaire.

Casa de Fritos and Captain EO, sounds like fun

As I was surfing the web and learning about Googie architecture, I came across the "House of the Future" otherwise known as the "Monsanto House."
I thought it was cool until that whole Monsanto business came up...jerks.

Anyway, I found a groovy site called Yesterland.

If any of you remember the rocket jets, the people movers, or the Swiss Family Treehouse, sniff, you'll appreciate this site.

And it's the future already, where's my future-house?

Baby Tuesday

She's six months old! She's moved from all milk to milk and squished up foods. She's less grumpy too, as you might notice in these pics.
This week we have two categories: carpet baby and snow baby.

The video explains this. 

At first glance, you might think a Yeti was holding our baby, but no, it's her father. Snow does bad things to hair. 

So cute, it hurts me. 

Websites say that babies her age "like their reflection," so I got out a mirror for her to play with. Roger that. 

I hope her ears stay that way. 

I crack her up. 

overstimulated? probably. 

ee-igh ee-igh ohh!

We live tucked in the groin of a handful of tract housing developments of the 50s and 60s. Our house, and the houses on our side of the block, are special because all of them were originally built miles away, but when they built the shopping mall 50 years ago, they moved our block to it's current location.
(Do click that link, it's facinating)

To the east we have fancy two story and sprawling ranch tract homes. I like to walk the dogs in that neighborhood, it's well kempt.

To the north we have a dreadful collection of failures of mid century modernist architecture. I think if I had tongue depressers and some wood glue, I could build more attractive houses. It's fun to walk the dogs in that neighborhood for different reasons, to see how many houses have cars parked on the lawn, and play guess the meth-lab.

And to the south and west we have a collection of optimistic "starter homes" of the early 60's. Most have a distinctive farm theme to them. I read about the history of our little town and learned that this was all farm land that was sold to developers by the farmer's children. There was a photo of all of them with shovels and hornrimmed glasses ready to break ground and build some barn shaped homes.

I took some photos and I submit them for your review.
Here is my critique of how people in the 21st century deal with the barns:


Horrible, absolutely terrible. F. They're not even trying, they've given up. I don't know if you can tell but it's the color of maccaroni and cheese with brown trim. No one should be surprised that there's a Buick in the driveway.


Again, low marks. D-. It would be a flat F if it wasn't obvious that they have kept the house in complete original condition. It's almost a historical home.


I think these folks are in barn-denial. They have a nice paint job and go about their lives as if their garage didn't look like it should contain livestock. I give it a B+.


Is this a barn? No one can know. They have decided to camoflauge their home in flora. The biggest crack-up about this house is that come trash day, this place sports FIVE clean green cans. These people might be part mole or hobbit.


I told mi esposo when I first toured this neighborhood that if we were to live in a barn-house, I would need to paint the barn part red and white, like a children's book of Old McCharlie. Now, unlike this fun house (which has a few other red cousins in the 'hood) I would keep the rest of the house a different color, but hey that's just me. Grade A! Good show!

More neighborhood reviews to come in later posts. Stay tuned.

snow 2nd Edition

It snowed in the mountains surrounding our scenic San Francisco Bay area this weekend. For the last two weeks, we here in the valley could see the snow on what are known as the "east hills" and we tried to go see it last weekend and the weekend before that. The first time we tried, they closed the road, and the second time we were too late and it had already melted.
But this time it really really snowed!

After church this morning, I drove up into the mountains via Highway 17 with the baby (and Chris Rice ;) ). I usually try to keep deep thoughts to myself, but it was a majestic drive and all of nature seemed more dramatic, low clouds/fog, and at that magical elevation point, there was snow. I took Summit Road off the highway, which is a large road for a mountain road, but it's more like a generous one-lane road than an adequate two-lane, to venture further into the winterland.

It was on Summit that I found the snowmen being built and the very unhappy snow-laden llamas. I had so much fun, just me, my car, sleeping baby, music and the snow.

I turned on a road that told me it would take me back towards the valley and I slid off into a little ditch. I was a little alarmed, but definitely not frantic. I just didn't want someone to come along and push me off the cliff. A teenager, a snowboarder I'm guessing, was nice enough to stop and help guide me out. I actually could have done it myself, but that guy made me feel better.
We made it safely back to the house where we met up with the husband. Since we had been on wild snow chases twice before, he was hesitant to drive into the mountains again, but obviously from the video, he agreed to go back up there with me.

That's where we took these photos of the snowmen and the llamas.

new side link

Alright, I'll admit it when I'm beat. This guy is a bigger design-hound than me.
And he goes to my church. Well, at least I think he still does.
(We've met he and his wife them on numerous occasions, but I don't think they ever remember us, but that's our fault, we're generally sneaky, silent characters.)
And his blog is very pretty.
So I added the botched blog to my sidebar.

fecal friday

This post goes out to Aurora, fellow baby and dog parent.

This morning was quite pleasant, I made bread and cobbler from scratch, bought the spouse some pants and the baby some days-of-the-week bibs. We arrived back from errands and I smelled a familiar baby odor. I left the groceries on the kitchen counter to attend to the smelly-leaky baby butt.
It was a diaper core meltdown. Worst on record (she really does keep outdoing herself)
I was caught unprepared, and suddenly she had poop on her hands and on her shirt. I went to the bathroom to solve the problem with a bath, but she's outgrown her baby tub and can't sit up, and there was nowhere to set her down.(!)

It was at this point the frenzy began.

I set her in the empty tub while I ran the water, she freaked out. (I would too, that's one cold tub). I decided that the "guest" tub wasn't clean enough for her so I then ran down the hall with a half naked, poop smeared, damp and frantic baby in my arms to "our" bathtub that I had just cleaned hours before. I set her on our (white) bathmat while I ran the water. She was coming undone then, but it only elevated when I stood her under our tub faucet. Now I was in there too, in my underwear, because my clothes were wet and poopy too. This brought her little comfort.

It was chaos.

We both got out when she was clean enough and I let her play with the toothbrushes (her favorite toys) to calm her down while swaddled in our big white bath towel.

I hurriedly dressed her so I could finally put away the groceries.
And then I smelled another disturbingly familiar scent.

And it was not the baby.

Mojito was apparently consumed by the diaper explosion ordeal and thought that poop everywhere was a new trend. While we were in the bath, he marched into the cat's litter igloo and scattered her scat about the house.

I had to put the baby to bed and start dinner so I just closed the dogs in the bathroom. But then the cat meowed and meowed and tried to get crushed beneath me as if to say "the dog messed up my igloo, fix it, fix it, i don't like it, fix it, there's poop everywhere and litter too, eeww, fix it."
So I closed her in another room.

The baby is sleeping peacefully now and Mojito is not allowed to lick me for about five years.

it's a spa, it's a bed, but it is not a chair

Waterbeds are going the way of the dodo, if you haven't noticed. I guess we all realized what a pain in the butt they are if you move alot, have pets with sharp edges, or have any sense of style whatsoever.

I mean what is with those headboards?

But let's be honest, those of us who once had one, were they not the milk and honey of comfort? I was just about to go to bed, but I'm stalling because I know how cold it will be. It's a really good bed, all foam, pillow top, not cheap either. But it's not pre-warmed and jello-squishy like a waterbed.

The only comfort drawback was the outer edge. Weren't you not supposed to sit on that edge? Sit-ability is the whole daytime purpose of a bed. And goodluck to ya' if you didn't have those vinyl pads (or velveteen if you were fancy like my Aunt Dianne) because you were gonna come away with some bruises before the morning came.

My roots show through when I have 400* thread count sheets on a tempur-pedic* matttress on a Macy's bedframe but I long for my 50/50 sheets and the old single-wide Mattress Discounter's waterbed.



*My mom will read this and question the number of threads, and my husband will read this and think that's not the right brand.

how did I get here?

I'm sure anyone past the age of twelve thinks to themselves at different points in their life: "wow, I'm ___[years old]."
I've done it before and now that I'm 25 I'm thinking it.
25 = adult.
When you're 21 (the customary age of adulthood), people generally still think you're an overgrown teenager and probably still live with your parents, which is socially acceptable to most people.
But at 25, you better have your s*** together, and be doin' something with your life.
At 25 you're rarely mistaken for under age and juniors clothes start to look a little absurd.

I took this photo of myself today and thought "I look like an adult."
I look like someone I would have been intimidated by when I was a kid.

I do adult things--
I order cuts of meat from the butcher and look him in the eye.
I call plumbers for gas line relocation estimates.
I cook cornish game hens.
I go to the pediatrican, and I'm not the patient.
I sign mortgage checks.
I am a member of our church.
I go to dinner parties where people eat off real plates and talk about time-shares.

It's all very strange.
I interact with people like I'm standing in my underwear. Like they'll know I'm just faking it and I'm really just fifteen.

I'm accepting it because time is a force not to be toyed with. Anyone who's seen Back to the Future, knows that. Oh no, I bet there's a generation now that hasn't seen it!

Don't get me wrong, I love my life. Love it.
It's the being a grown-up thing that is squidgy to me.
Good thing I still have my freckles.

Baby Tuesday

Humble apologies for all of you east of the Rockies who have had to wait until past two in the afternoon for this week's offering of baby C.


Harry Elephante and the Backseat Baby.



These were CD's that i had in my collection that I was unable to extract even one good song off of. And since they are shiny and smoothe, I relegated them to baby toys. The CD's met a gooey fate indeed. 'Serves 'em right.



She loves chip bags. And bagel bags and donut bags and pretzel bags.


The grandparents T gave her this play wall for Christmas. She's warming up to it. She'd still rather be carried around or go on a walk, but who wouldn't?

stop what you're doing, if you have any reverence for good design

Design Public will make your life better.
It will do nothing to improve your soul, but it may win you more stylish friends.
IKEA prices it has not, my apologies, but those clever people have to make rent, so most of it es muy caro.

it's the simple things

felt rocks

I love them, I really do.

you make me want to be a better blog #3

Cool blog #89 - Not Martha.
If you're like me, which you're probably not, you will love it.
She had me at ice ball mold.

my #1 sin is slander

So I will not say anything about this blog, I will only say in an unbiased way, that the author and I both visited the same locale. I could have run into him.

careful with that camera, you're getting my ugly side

I've been on an impossible craigslist quest to find dining room set. But not just any one will do. No. It must meet the following requirements:
-leaf table, but not drop leaf
-able to seat 4 without leaf, 6 with leaf
-dark stain wood
-contemporary, arts&crafts, or art deco style
-not more than 20 miles away
-less than 300 dollars

Yes, I drive a hard bargain. And I have slaved over a hot craigslist many a month searching for it.
No, this does not end in me proclaiming that I have found the holy grail of dinette sets, sadly, sadly no.
It ends in me ripping yet another twit of a seller.



This set has been on the site for weeks, and the guy/chick will not take less than $150.
Dude! It's friggin' fugly!
I'd be hard pressed to live under it if I was homeless. Just give it away!
The Golden Girls don't have a conference room, so it's only niche is non-existant.
Dump it.

my love/hate relationship with...

I have a dichotomous (I just made the word up, write it down.) association with the following: (feel free to write these down too, you never know when I might test you)

Television-

[heart]I have television to thank for most of my intelligence, social intelligence anyway. It still remains my number one source for information, in the form of info-tainment like NOVA and Modern Marvels, etc

[crossbones] Just like Harry said "No one, on his death bed, ever said, "I wish I'd watched more television."
Oh how true. Kevin and I know that it sucks the life out of our evenings, slowly morphing us into turnips every night. But we still watch it. Because it's there. And it's friggin enormous.


Chinese Food-

[heart] Is there anything more delightful than breaded, deep-fried meat, covered in sweet sauce and served with fluffy rice? No, there really isn't. Don't say puppies or babies, those don't count. It is overwhelmingly cheap and seems to support a local business, in a way that going to say Taco Bell would not. And I cannot forget to mention the cookies with secret messages. Give me a free cookie, I'll listen to your advice, plain and simple.

[crossbones] When I eat chinese takeout, my day is pretty much over. I inexplicably wolf it down (okay, the explanation could be its oily sweet goodness) without really chewing at all, and then feel like a walrus on rock. And I don't know if you've ever observed a walrus, but they don't get much done. They certainly don't empty wastebaskets or sew curtains.


Let me announce here and now, that the cat is snoring. I didn't know cats could snore until this very moment.


MySpace-

[heart] Classmates.com, eat your heart out! I can find almost anyone from highschool for free! mua ha ha ha! I can fine tune my profile page to utter cuteness, let everyone know what music I like, and then look and see my friends' cute pages and what music they like. And did I mention Rhett Miller is my friend?

[crossbones] The obligation to check another site for messages weighs so- very- heavy. I have 3 email inboxes to check, and voice mail which everyone knows is a joke
but I occasionally check that too, and myspace makes 5 communicados that I'm obliged to keep tidy. Achtung: the following statement is guaranteed to offend someone somewhere
The about-me-bulletins are out of control, people. I mean, the bulletins in general are seldomly unique and special, but I can't deal with the answer-50-questions over and over and over. I think this means I won't do them on this blog anymore. I'm burnt out as a cocktail weenie in a jet engine over those.

...more to come as I think of them...

I learned today...

...they make tall swimsuits!
Since the age of 14 I've sworn off one-piece swimsuits because I always felt like I had on suspenders that were too tight. That left me to join the pulling up, tugging down and picking out bikini crowd, also a miserable swim experience.
But now I can wear a one piece again.
However, I did find a misguided clothier on Ebay who claims to be selling a "Petite Tall." Umm, does that mean it's regular, like -1 + 1 = 0?
(I think she means it's a small tall...darn those people)

if you're having a bad day...

...I have a solution:

This will make you feel better.


Full credit for finding this goes to my friend Stephen.
(You may notice I have added his blog to my sidebar.)

a shining example

I have this CD called "Bite the Red Knee" by a Japanese band called The Pugs. I bought it solely for its cover, while playing the "10 CD's for 10 dollars game" at this one CD store in Santa Barbara. (Lacy, you could have played!) The game rules are simple: each person picks 10 CD's by the cover out of the 10-for-$10 bin, both listen to all 20 CD's and whoever amassed the most quality CD's wins.
I don't think this CD counted towards my score.
But I did pull 3 good tracks off it, one of which is their Japanese-psycho-pop version of "Tequila."
Hence, a shining example of how the iPod has rescued me from my own crappy CD's.