This pink ball will someday be kicked by...
this little foot (my friend's baby Lauren).
Here is a sunny chair by the local yogurt shop,
and my little pillow (from IKEA of all places).
I hope your day has been rosier than mine; despite all the pink, it has been full of disappointment.
Good morning Yellow Wednesday!
Hey Jaden, thanks for spilling your pencils this morning.
Mama's got a brand new bag!
Santa Jeff brought these to me.
This photo was taken en route to the Cupertino Whole Foods, where I learned about their photo policy while photographing purple produce: NONE allowed -- not even of one's child! So you are all stuck with one photo for today. Tomorrow will be better!
Okay I've been offline too much lately so I'm too late to get on the roll call, but I wanna play anyway!
this weekend, new blocks eased the pain
the precious handwriting of a kinder
Thank you Sue for the heads up this time and thank you Leya for hosting another!
I've been going to acupuncture for about two months I'd guess. Right away, Dr. Kuchi Kuchi (my nickname for him) told me to start juicing. I juiced when I was originally diagnosed with NHL (non-Hodgkins lymphoma) in 2000. But then I stopped. And now I've started again...
Thank you Costco.
Thank you Pink Lady.
Thank you Pulp Collector.
Thank you Jack LaLanne.
Fountain of youth?
Now that is fresh-pressed AJ!
Got Juice?Okay this one should be titled "Friday Prose" as I'm going to share an actual dated piece from my dad for a change of pace. I only kept one bin of his writings out of storage so this Friday space will host a variety of things from photos, poems, prose and a few of my childhood drawings and stories too.
This one is dedicated to my cousin Scott, who recently moved to San Francisco from Los Angeles. To North Beach no less!
6.26.93
Dark nights in North Beach, streets full with people roaming thru neon lights, drinking themselves to the heights of thoughtlessness. Knock yourselves out my young, energetic friends, continue on your road to self-annihilation, for life never ends. Does it?
You'll never see forty or so you believe. Why not raise some hell, create a shell to live in and lie and deceive?
We call it the decade of the nineties as if every ten years, all the mistakes of the past just up and disappears. I visit the bars & cafes; sit alone at a table. I listen to the words being spoken although I'm unable, to find anything that brings life to my ears, just noise of the carefree, with calls for more beers.
I want to remain at my table a bit longer to see what I hear, in say, twenty years. American life, that's all I know. Americans, Americans, everywhere I go. Spanish Americans, Italian Americans, African Americans and so on and so, who are the Americans the Americans so proudly claim to be and know?
It's just another Saturday night, so follow the urge (it's really a matter of habit you know) but hang with your group, don't dare mix & merge. You might find some conversation, some words to say and realize that people are only people and have always been that way. No matter what they look like, clothes they wear, or in what tongue they speak the words they say.
Dad, I loved sitting in some of those cafes with you, people watching and eavesdropping together. I wish you had gotten your twenty years at the table, instead of only the five years after you wrote this piece. Did you somehow know you would die five years and five days later?
I picked up Jaden from school this afternoon and was chatting with another mom while lots of kids were playing after school. After awhile, I did my standard transition announcement; today's was "Two more times across the monkey bars and then we're leaving."
I proceeded to get knee-deep in conversation about spirited kids with the other mom, and I heard Jaden say, "okay bye Mama!" So I looked up and said, "one more time ok?"
Okay so I was actually waist-deep in the conversation and so we repeated that scenario one more time. I wrapped it up at that point and as we walked to the car, I thanked him for trying so hard to stick to the agreement as I had originally asked.
"Yeah Mama, looks like you really spit out your bubble gum this time, " he said to me.
"Oh yeah? What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means it looks like you really 'unstuck the agreement'," he explained (with air quotes no less.)
Here is "Ribbons 101," the post I promised to deliver!
I love ribbons but you sure wouldn't know it by the way I treated them: shoving them all into one, too-small, plastic bin with no room to breathe or mingle with friends or have a family reunion.
Exhibit A: too-small, crammed plastic bin
1. curling variety A; 2. curling variety B; 3. chiffons
Exhibit B: how to treat ribbons well.
Exhibit C: two ribbon dispensers filled to their brims.
(or how I spent January 1, 2009):
1. Wake at 7 as usual but actually manage to fall BACK to sleep until 10.
2. Go to your two favorite stores all by yourself.
(Container Store and Paper Source)
3. Get organizational goodies at said stores.
(Pictures of the goodies are coming soon to a blog near you!)
4. Take yourself out to lunch at The Counter.
Get a kid's meal by smiling real pretty at the manager.
5. Go to the spa for two hours.
(courtesy of your son's birthday gift months ago)
The past 30 days have been an exhausting, emotional whirlwind of moving, holidays and sickness. If I have any readers left after my long absence here, thank you for your faith and loyalty.
To close the year, I would like to share a video performance that combines two musicians with meaning from different periods in my life: Tracy Chapman and Bob Dylan.
Because people?
In 2009, the times ARE a-changin in many ways and not a moment too soon for me. Happy New Year to all and to all a happy new year!
a classic Dutch Tilt by Jaden
In the midst of all the hustle and bustle of moving, we celebrated Oma's 91st birthday on Friday, December 5th. Betty served her favorite birthday dinner of cold crab, homemade cocktail sauce and deviled eggs. For dessert, a traditionally delicious scoop of vanilla ice cream with a butter waffle cookie.
More photos in my celebrations set on Flickr.
Betty has a set of little wooden houses and I found myself drawn to them the other night.
I find myself in a little "house" trying to make it into my home. I close my eyes and I am back in my house that is not my house, clearly was not my house and yet IS MY HOUSE.
Yo!Today was Jaden's inaugural visit to SF MOMA. On the drive up to San Francisco, he was clearly unsure about the whole thing. "I thought we were going to an aminal musuem" (love his scarce few mispronunciations left). "Is there going to be art for kids to look at?"
Once we got inside and conquered the very kid-UNfriendly menu, we sat down and munched on a panini. Jaden had a great view of 3rd Street and lots of things going on like ambulances and a tow truck taking a motorcycle away. Then he led me on a tour of the museum.
He knew instinctively what to do and would walk into an exhibit and be drawn instantly to one piece or another. He mostly kept his hands in his pockets after an early scare in the Caffe Museo where he ran to "test" whether a large piece of art was canvas or glass. Holy 8-thousand bucks later, I didn't have to remind him too much not to touch.
He kept wanting to go up up up to the top and the 5th floor held the fascinating work of Martin Puryear. Jaden had one and a million interpretations of every piece and darned if I wanted to take a picture of each one so I could remember what he called each one. But no photos allowed on that floor. Never fear, there were plenty of pictures and you can see them all in a new set I created because I plan to have a lot more SF fun with him in the near future.
On the way out, we stopped at the Museum Store. Jaden was tired, and they were showing an old film on a blank wall which captivated both of us instantly. So without thinking too much, I gleefully said, "Yes!" when Jaden asked me to buy it. It's a rare thing for me to experience that with him, so much no no no all the time. After a brutal drive home in traffic, we picked up Jeff and went home and all watched
Jamie tagged me and it is my first time being tagged on a blog so here goes.
Six Quirky Things About Me
1. I don't have a middle name so I've spent my life giving myself different ones including Emily, Rebecca, Erin, Lauren, and Keiko (during a Japanese phase of life). Then I found out my grandma Rose's given name was actually Rosina, and I knew I couldn't find a more perfect name than that so the naming business ended in 1999.
2. I love crummy kid cereal including Lucky Charms, Captain Crunch, Fruit Loops, Sugar Smacks, etc. I will not do Cocoa or Fruity Pebbles though, they annoy me and always have.
3. If my blanket is not evenly distributed on my bed, it will wake me up. So often in the night you will find me dashing around adjusting the blankets and then hopping back in bed. I dash so as not to lose my sleepy spirit. It doesn't often work out.
4. I love the "boing" sound that TiVo makes when you've gone as far in a menu as you can. So Jeff will have to listen to me play my "instrument" (the remote) for my own amusement. But I do it in a certain pattern:
boing!
boing boing!!
boing boing boing!!!
and if I'm feeling especially inspired,
boing boing boing boing!!!!
5. I alphabetize my receipts which do not include what I call perishables (groceries, eating out, or fuel). I also save way too much email. I have 18,602 sent emails alone in just one of my seven email accounts. YUCK. GAG ME. Email Whore that I am!
6. I do not know how to back up my computer by myself and therefore all of my prized photos do not get backed up regularly. This from the woman who saves emails and receipts like her life depends on it. Talk about quirky!
Okay this game of tag makes me feel more OCD than quirky. I'll spare everyone pictures of my receipt files and perfectly balanced blanket distribution. However, someday I may treat you all to an audio file of my Tivo Tunes.
© Old NavyI am really drawn to this color lately. Too bad it looks like ap-cray on me. It does come in dark brown at the store though. And they say after I buy it I can add "vintage cute" to my wardrobe description. Ha, vintage cute newly made in China. But, it is cute and I can't stop thinking about it since I saw it on Friday. Even though I'm allergic to wool. Go figure.
I'm going to depart from the usual Dad collection of poetry today and share instead a beaut from Langston Hughes. Words, how I love thee.
During this dark time of my life, I have sifted through my photos desperately seeking color. I found a little to share. I am trying, trying to get through. No sneak peeks for you here, it's a must click.
Evil of me, huh.
Art for the big-hearted, radiant woman who is ready to immerse herself in beauty.
