Sunday, January 30, 2011

Martha, You Sassy Wench

If you told me ten years ago I would be reading Martha Stewart's website and cooking her recipes, I would have laughed hard enough to choke on my bong. But here I am, thirty-four years old, happily cooking Martha's food while my husband tickles the baby in the next room. And this sausage tomato risotto is good. Like, really really good. It's good enough that Matthew reluctantly admitted that Martha has some tricks up her sleeve.

Frankly, I'm not sure why he has a grudge against Martha, because I cooked Martha- inspired fish tacos for him on our second date, and he loved that shit. I just tried to find that recipe on her site, but it wasn't there so here's my copy-

And yes, it is written on a beer-stained bar coaster. So what.
I like Martha, she inspires people who don't craft or cook to craft and cook, and that is cool. Maybe someday there will be a "Julie and Julia" type movie about her. Except it would have to be a bit freaky just like Martha. And I'm not talking about tax evasion or whatever. I read an article about her after she was released from prison, and she told the reporter that everything in her country house is black and white, including her animals. She admitted that she never let her black horses out in the light of day, because the sun might bleach their coats to red, and then THEY WOULD NOT MATCH HER HOUSE. Holy Moses. It's hard not to picture wine-drunk Martha, riding her horse through the dark Connecticut night, laughing as her mom hair blows in the wind.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Nervous Anticipation

Sometimes I look at my daughter's face and I catch myself in a terrible thought- 
"No one has hurt her yet".
No one has ever hurt this girl with their words, hands, actions, or even indifference. It's funny but sometimes indifference hurts the worst of all. 
She lives in a world made entirely of love and security. This moment, it feels so fleeting and fragile that it scares me to death. When I look at her I feel a great nervous heartbeat in my stomach. It's like a bird's frantic wings are beating in there. 
I don't want these great, heaving bouts of anticipation to floor me. But they do almost every day. It has everything to do with me and who I am. I want to trust the world to treat her gently, but I know it won't. It upsets me, and I'm not sure what to do about it, because I want her to love the world, in all it's painful glory. I want her to love it all.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

The Post Where I Whine About Being Broke

Well hello again. I guess I've taken a small break from blogging in the last week. I've thought a few times about posting but I am terribly distracted with banal things like my personal finances.
Money money money. I'd like more of it.
This money thing has me so distracted I've cut back on doing things that I like, like writing and taking pictures for this blog.
I'm back at work making money after 10 weeks of baby bliss. But the bills have been weighing me down a bit. I'm not sure why I didn't get paid for pushing a chubby baby out of a small orifice. I should have. It was an amazing feat and she adds beauty and charm to the world. But apparently the hospital expects ME to pay THEM for that incredibly painful experience. Go figure.
So now I'm forced to reflect on one of the facts of life that I like the least, that my husband and I work too hard for not very much money. And that blows.
So I've been brainstorming ways to supplement my income a bit, and I have a few ideas. Here we go-
1. Highly paid professional blogger (I should join the club, right?)
2. Dominatrix. But I'm not willing to spank or touch anyone. I'm only willing to insult men. And I want to wear my own clothes because pleather looks uncomfortable, and I bet it causes yeast infections.
3. Restaurant reviewer.
4. Book reviewer.
5. Professional lady-about -town. And no, not a hooker you pervert. Just a paid companion who tells jokes and drinks all your wine. I can also cook if you provide the groceries.
6. Personal trainer. My methods here are alternative. Mostly I will just pop "30 Day Shred" into your DVD player and then loudly agree with whatever Jillian Michaels says while I drink your wine.
What do you think? Any takers?

Friday, January 14, 2011

Mommy Likes

I've got a bit of a wall hook fetish. I think it comes from living in a one hundred year old house with teeny tiny closets. You're forced to get creative storage- wise. I'm obsessed with these DIY wall hooks from Bloesem kids. It's been a while since I've gotten crafty and now I'm feeling insprired...

Sunday, January 9, 2011


My parents drove up from California with a whole slew of children's books for Ceci that have been mouldering in their garage. The publishing dates range from the 1940s to the 1970s and again I am amazed at all the stuff my Mom has held onto from my (and her own) childhood. 
I haven't actually read any of them to Ceci yet, but this morning I started flipping through them. 
So far I'm more excited about the ones from my childhood, although frankly I don't remember reading them. But some have amazing illustrations- 

Like this one from "The Secret of Beaver Valley".

And this one from a "Little Golden" book. I like the illustrations so much I'm tempted to tear some out and frame them. 

The jury is still out on the books from my Mom's childhood. 

Some of them are kind of neat in a chirpy, sing-songy way.

But some of them are poorly disguised Jesus propaganda!

And some of them appear to be erotic fiction. Which I can get into, but it's hardly appropriate for a 11- week old baby. 

Thursday, January 6, 2011

The Walking Dead

Returning to work has been very challenging. Thanks to coffee, I am dragging my corpse to the office every morning, but just barely. I'm not going to be winning any performance awards either. I sort of feel like I spend all day every day at the bottom of the ocean, weighed down with large sandbags. All sound is muffled, I feel heavy, and it's dark.
I've tried explaining to Ceci that mommy needs more sleep now, but she laughed at me, and then she pooped herself.
I know women all over the world return to work after having a baby, but how do they do it? I'm barely scraping by here folks. What amazes me is that our workforce is filled with these re-animated corpse/ new mommies and society still functions. I'm reminded of a history class I took in college, where the professor talked about how China basically fell apart when the British introduced opium to the country, because everyone was so high all the time that nothing got done. That is basically how I feel about my job/ house/ life. Except I am sober. So that sucks.
But at the end of the day I get to come home to these two, so I feel lucky.

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