So, for the first time since 2002, I've seen all five of the Best Picture Oscar nominees, thanks to a wonderfully generous friend for baby-sitting last night AND pointing out that Michael Clayton was available on pay per view. So, while Owen amused himself for 2 hours this afternoon -- seeing how many pieces of gum he could chew at once (7), doing somersaults on the couch and discovering that Mommy doesn't like it when crayon gets on the rug -- we checked off number 5 on our list. The crayon is a small price to pay, I figure.
While looking back at previous year's nominees, I realized there were many years, even in my movie-going heyday, when I didn't see all five. For instance, 2003's Master and Commander, or 2000's Gladiator. Heck, in 1999, when I had no excuse not to see movies, I missed The Green Mile, The Insider and The Sixth Sense. Course, back then, I saw movies I wanted to see, not just because they were on some list.
Oh, and apparently I have something against Russell Crowe. The last movie I saw him in was L.A. Confidential...
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
10 Random Things
I'm trying to get back to posting more often, but don't always have a good topic to fill out. So, in the spirit of frequency and brevity, I give you 10 Random Things.
1. Orbit's mint mojito gum is surprisingly delicious. Very much like a mojito, but with breath-freshening capabilities and no rum buzz.
2. Bruised my behind falling down a couple of our stairs yesterday (slippery wintertime stairs suck). Seems to be an annual occurrence, but this time I happened to be holding Nora, who is totally fine, by the way, and said of the incident "fa down?"
3. I felt like I was cramming for a test on Tuesday, except, sadly, I was cramming to vote. I usually know just who I'm going to vote for come primary time, but in what has become a two-way race, I felt I needed to pick one of the leading two candidates, rather than casting my vote for a guy who's closer to my real beliefs but has no shot of ever winning and who's also dropped out.
4. What was up with Heidi Klum's bangs on last night's Project Runway reunion?! You could barely see her eyes. It would drive me insane to have hair in my eyes like that. Guess she's used to suffering for fashion. (And also, when did Rami and Chris so frickin' chummy?)
5. There's a bunch of office shuffling going on at work and I realized that I'm the only one in my corner of the building (16 people) who has never moved their office. And this month, I turned down an opportunity to move next door to one that's slightly bigger and has a better paint job, but I said no because the thought of moving all my crap...well, no thanks. I'll take the cramped office and dingy walls, thank you.
6. I'm currently debating whether or not I should get bangs during my next hair cut. Discuss.
7. Nora makes the appropriate sounds when reading books that involve the following characters:
sheep
horse
cow
dog
cat
elephant
gorilla
fish
vampire
Guess who taught her that last one?
8. I've become very tied to my morning coffee rituals. I love the smell of making it. Love that first cup. Love sitting down at my desk and pouring my second cup. Love discovering that I still have more in my thermos (I often forget if I've used it all). And I get upset when I have to be away from a freshly poured cup long enough that it cools down. Microwaving it is never the same. I heart coffee.
9. I feel like I'm jinxing this for even posting it, but if we're able to get a certain movie at the rental place this week and also keep our plans to see another certain movie at the theater this weekend, it will be the first time since I've had children that I will have seen all five best picture nominees. This is a big deal for me.
10. Last night on the way home, Owen ate an apple that was leftover from my lunch. When we were almost home, he handed it to me and said I could finish the last couple of bites. Sounds like a nice sharing moment, but mostly I think it was his sneaky way of getting out of holding the core of a mostly eaten apple.
1. Orbit's mint mojito gum is surprisingly delicious. Very much like a mojito, but with breath-freshening capabilities and no rum buzz.
2. Bruised my behind falling down a couple of our stairs yesterday (slippery wintertime stairs suck). Seems to be an annual occurrence, but this time I happened to be holding Nora, who is totally fine, by the way, and said of the incident "fa down?"
3. I felt like I was cramming for a test on Tuesday, except, sadly, I was cramming to vote. I usually know just who I'm going to vote for come primary time, but in what has become a two-way race, I felt I needed to pick one of the leading two candidates, rather than casting my vote for a guy who's closer to my real beliefs but has no shot of ever winning and who's also dropped out.
4. What was up with Heidi Klum's bangs on last night's Project Runway reunion?! You could barely see her eyes. It would drive me insane to have hair in my eyes like that. Guess she's used to suffering for fashion. (And also, when did Rami and Chris so frickin' chummy?)
5. There's a bunch of office shuffling going on at work and I realized that I'm the only one in my corner of the building (16 people) who has never moved their office. And this month, I turned down an opportunity to move next door to one that's slightly bigger and has a better paint job, but I said no because the thought of moving all my crap...well, no thanks. I'll take the cramped office and dingy walls, thank you.
6. I'm currently debating whether or not I should get bangs during my next hair cut. Discuss.
7. Nora makes the appropriate sounds when reading books that involve the following characters:
sheep
horse
cow
dog
cat
elephant
gorilla
fish
vampire
Guess who taught her that last one?
8. I've become very tied to my morning coffee rituals. I love the smell of making it. Love that first cup. Love sitting down at my desk and pouring my second cup. Love discovering that I still have more in my thermos (I often forget if I've used it all). And I get upset when I have to be away from a freshly poured cup long enough that it cools down. Microwaving it is never the same. I heart coffee.
9. I feel like I'm jinxing this for even posting it, but if we're able to get a certain movie at the rental place this week and also keep our plans to see another certain movie at the theater this weekend, it will be the first time since I've had children that I will have seen all five best picture nominees. This is a big deal for me.
10. Last night on the way home, Owen ate an apple that was leftover from my lunch. When we were almost home, he handed it to me and said I could finish the last couple of bites. Sounds like a nice sharing moment, but mostly I think it was his sneaky way of getting out of holding the core of a mostly eaten apple.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
First Draft
Indulge me for a moment, while I brag about my oh-so-literate children.
Tonight, Owen wrote a sentence. Nay, a story. First, he wrote "it was sanny" (sunny), then he wasn't happy with that direction so he deleted it (because of course, being a child of the aughts, all this is on a computer). Then, he wrote this:
the Cat Name Was Matthew O.
He live in Wisconsin Work
At a Menards
Brilliant, no?! I helped him spell a couple of the words, and the Wisconsin and Menards were copied from a map and a hat, respectively. Actually, at first, Matthew the cat was from Washington, like "Abraheem Lincoln" he said, who, by the way, is died because he got shot like Martin Luther King. But then it was decided that Washington was too far away. So, he became a Wisconsinite. (And, by the way, I did correct him that Lincoln wasn't actually from Washington -- I think he just had a lot of George Washington and Washington, D.C. spinning around in his brain. He also came home today with a paper ax and the story of the cherry tree. Does any of this stuff ever change?)
Then, there's little Nora, who takes a book to bed with her every night. Her favorite right now is Clifford's ABCs. And as I sing the ABC song at the end, she practically vaults toward the crib with the book and her blanket in hand. Sometimes, I look back as I close the door and she's "reading" the book out loud by the light of her aquarium toy. When left alone in the playroom, she'll often pull down book after book from the shelf and look through each one, talking out loud to herself and creating a growing pile around her.
These things make the writer and former book hound in me smile.
Tonight, Owen wrote a sentence. Nay, a story. First, he wrote "it was sanny" (sunny), then he wasn't happy with that direction so he deleted it (because of course, being a child of the aughts, all this is on a computer). Then, he wrote this:
the Cat Name Was Matthew O.
He live in Wisconsin Work
At a Menards
Brilliant, no?! I helped him spell a couple of the words, and the Wisconsin and Menards were copied from a map and a hat, respectively. Actually, at first, Matthew the cat was from Washington, like "Abraheem Lincoln" he said, who, by the way, is died because he got shot like Martin Luther King. But then it was decided that Washington was too far away. So, he became a Wisconsinite. (And, by the way, I did correct him that Lincoln wasn't actually from Washington -- I think he just had a lot of George Washington and Washington, D.C. spinning around in his brain. He also came home today with a paper ax and the story of the cherry tree. Does any of this stuff ever change?)
Then, there's little Nora, who takes a book to bed with her every night. Her favorite right now is Clifford's ABCs. And as I sing the ABC song at the end, she practically vaults toward the crib with the book and her blanket in hand. Sometimes, I look back as I close the door and she's "reading" the book out loud by the light of her aquarium toy. When left alone in the playroom, she'll often pull down book after book from the shelf and look through each one, talking out loud to herself and creating a growing pile around her.
These things make the writer and former book hound in me smile.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The One with the Screaming
My daughter is a tough cookie. Or maybe "stubborn cookie" would be a better description.
Yesterday, we took a day trip up to my parents' house for their 40th wedding anniversary party. (We'd planned to make a weekend of it, but the forecast of yet another winter storm prompted us to make it a day trip instead. This winter thing is getting old. But I digress.) So, in the rush of leaving, it turns out we forgot one very important thing. Nora's blanket. I realized it when we were about 25 minutes north. And we made the decision to forge ahead. We'd make it through the day without it.
Now, if you've met my daughter, you've probably also met her yellow blanket. Though she doesn't carry it with her everywhere, it's her security and when she needs it, she'll scoop it up, pop her thumb in her mouth, and ahhh, everything's OK.
The day went very well. The kids had fun running around and playing with their cousins. We talked to people we hadn't seen in awhile and we were glad to have made the trip and be there for my parents. Nora missed her usual 2-hour midday nap, so we figured she'd hit the car seat and conk out. I think I even hazarded the thought, maybe we don't need that blanket after all.
But, she did not fall asleep. No sir. My little 21-month-old, who by all rights should have been exhausted, stayed awake the whole way home. And crying. I was able to distract her for 10-15 minutes at a time, but it would eventually end in cries of "mine" and disgusted rejection of any replacement blankets I'd try to offer. Then I'd distract her again -- reading books, showing her pictures from Jon's iPod, playing a game of "where's Nora's nose" -- until she'd eventually remember she still didn't have what she really wanted.
When we got home, I took her into the house and picked up her blanket from the living room floor. In went the thumb and all was right with the world again.
Like I said, one stubborn cookie.
Yesterday, we took a day trip up to my parents' house for their 40th wedding anniversary party. (We'd planned to make a weekend of it, but the forecast of yet another winter storm prompted us to make it a day trip instead. This winter thing is getting old. But I digress.) So, in the rush of leaving, it turns out we forgot one very important thing. Nora's blanket. I realized it when we were about 25 minutes north. And we made the decision to forge ahead. We'd make it through the day without it.
Now, if you've met my daughter, you've probably also met her yellow blanket. Though she doesn't carry it with her everywhere, it's her security and when she needs it, she'll scoop it up, pop her thumb in her mouth, and ahhh, everything's OK.
The day went very well. The kids had fun running around and playing with their cousins. We talked to people we hadn't seen in awhile and we were glad to have made the trip and be there for my parents. Nora missed her usual 2-hour midday nap, so we figured she'd hit the car seat and conk out. I think I even hazarded the thought, maybe we don't need that blanket after all.
But, she did not fall asleep. No sir. My little 21-month-old, who by all rights should have been exhausted, stayed awake the whole way home. And crying. I was able to distract her for 10-15 minutes at a time, but it would eventually end in cries of "mine" and disgusted rejection of any replacement blankets I'd try to offer. Then I'd distract her again -- reading books, showing her pictures from Jon's iPod, playing a game of "where's Nora's nose" -- until she'd eventually remember she still didn't have what she really wanted.
When we got home, I took her into the house and picked up her blanket from the living room floor. In went the thumb and all was right with the world again.
Like I said, one stubborn cookie.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Family Portrait
On Thursday, when Jon picked up Owen from school, he was finishing up this masterpiece.
He was excited to explain the details to us -- like how he added snowflakes everywhere and that the 100s mean we've all read 100 books.
Meanwhile, I look at it and think, this is the first "family picture" he has ever drawn. I've always wondered how my kids would one day represent their lives on paper. In after school specials, the artwork usually expresses some dark, dirty secret about how Mommy's an alcoholic or Daddy can't read. But there we are, surrounded by snowflakes (and apparently quite literate) and we even have the right color hair.
I also can't believe he's drawing this well. A few short months ago, he had just started to draw smiley faces, and now there are bodies and clothes and ears, for crying out loud. He did point out two inaccuracies to me later -- smirking that "Nora isn't really as tall as daddy, is she?" and "we don't have heart-shaped faces, do we?"
Oh, and in case you're wondering about why I'm Mom and Jon is Jon...Owen is always insisting that my name is too long. He'll happily write the others, and even Philo (our cat), but he tends to peter out on mine somewhere around the second H. This is the same kid who can spell Halloween.
He was excited to explain the details to us -- like how he added snowflakes everywhere and that the 100s mean we've all read 100 books.Meanwhile, I look at it and think, this is the first "family picture" he has ever drawn. I've always wondered how my kids would one day represent their lives on paper. In after school specials, the artwork usually expresses some dark, dirty secret about how Mommy's an alcoholic or Daddy can't read. But there we are, surrounded by snowflakes (and apparently quite literate) and we even have the right color hair.
I also can't believe he's drawing this well. A few short months ago, he had just started to draw smiley faces, and now there are bodies and clothes and ears, for crying out loud. He did point out two inaccuracies to me later -- smirking that "Nora isn't really as tall as daddy, is she?" and "we don't have heart-shaped faces, do we?"
Oh, and in case you're wondering about why I'm Mom and Jon is Jon...Owen is always insisting that my name is too long. He'll happily write the others, and even Philo (our cat), but he tends to peter out on mine somewhere around the second H. This is the same kid who can spell Halloween.
Friday, February 8, 2008
My Own Medical Drama
Hi, just call me Ms. Infection.
Yesterday, for the fourth time in a little over a year, I ended up at the walk-in clinic for yet another mysterious and quickly progressing skin infection.
It started as a twinge by the nail of my ring finger the night before, but I figured it was just penance for my bad fingernail-biting habit. (Oh yah, you can stop reading now if these sorts of things give you the heebie jeebies. It's OK, I don't mind.) By the next morning, though, it was still aching, so I slapped on antibiotic and a band-aid and went off to work, hoping that'd be enough to stop it.
Of course not. I was in a meeting around 3 when it really started to get uncomfortable. And when I got back to my desk and removed the band-aid, I could see that it was definitely infected and getting swollen (seriously, I won't be offended if you stop reading. I'm typing now so you know it has a happy ending). Off to the clinic I went.
By the time I got there, all I could focus on was my aching finger. It seemed to throb more with every passing minute. I tried reading and then played Tetris on my iPod. I even resorted to the "imagine you're someplace else" exercises I learned in birthing class. They helped for awhile, but I was pretty happy when they called me back. Course, that meant more waiting, which left me enough time to mentally go over the contents of my purse, trying to figure out if I had the proper tools to poke open my swelling finger myself. (Are you still reading?) Turns out the sharpest thing I had was fingernail clippers, but if I'd had a sewing kit, I think I might have gone for it.
When the doctor came in and said he was going to slice it open, it was all I could do to keep from yelling, "yes, please do it now and use your pocket knife if you have to!" But, sadly, he didn't get my pocketknife telepathy, so he left the room for what seemed like an eternity to get a blade and the necessary supplies. I seriously felt like I was in labor all over again. I was just watching the door (while pacing and taking deep breaths) and waiting for relief to arrive wearing a white coat.
Once the doctor did his thing with the proper blade, it was instantly better and by the time I left about 20 minutes later, I was able to happily chat on the phone with my husband instead of being all grimacy and agitated.
I'm not quite sure what the point of blogging about this whole thing is, other that it was an experience that made me dig deep for strength. I'm really not a wimp (though my husband at times says I am). I think it's just a little breath-taking how quickly it went from a little twinge to pain my brain couldn't avoid. And, I swear fingers must have way more nerves than some other body parts. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Yesterday, for the fourth time in a little over a year, I ended up at the walk-in clinic for yet another mysterious and quickly progressing skin infection.
It started as a twinge by the nail of my ring finger the night before, but I figured it was just penance for my bad fingernail-biting habit. (Oh yah, you can stop reading now if these sorts of things give you the heebie jeebies. It's OK, I don't mind.) By the next morning, though, it was still aching, so I slapped on antibiotic and a band-aid and went off to work, hoping that'd be enough to stop it.
Of course not. I was in a meeting around 3 when it really started to get uncomfortable. And when I got back to my desk and removed the band-aid, I could see that it was definitely infected and getting swollen (seriously, I won't be offended if you stop reading. I'm typing now so you know it has a happy ending). Off to the clinic I went.
By the time I got there, all I could focus on was my aching finger. It seemed to throb more with every passing minute. I tried reading and then played Tetris on my iPod. I even resorted to the "imagine you're someplace else" exercises I learned in birthing class. They helped for awhile, but I was pretty happy when they called me back. Course, that meant more waiting, which left me enough time to mentally go over the contents of my purse, trying to figure out if I had the proper tools to poke open my swelling finger myself. (Are you still reading?) Turns out the sharpest thing I had was fingernail clippers, but if I'd had a sewing kit, I think I might have gone for it.
When the doctor came in and said he was going to slice it open, it was all I could do to keep from yelling, "yes, please do it now and use your pocket knife if you have to!" But, sadly, he didn't get my pocketknife telepathy, so he left the room for what seemed like an eternity to get a blade and the necessary supplies. I seriously felt like I was in labor all over again. I was just watching the door (while pacing and taking deep breaths) and waiting for relief to arrive wearing a white coat.
Once the doctor did his thing with the proper blade, it was instantly better and by the time I left about 20 minutes later, I was able to happily chat on the phone with my husband instead of being all grimacy and agitated.
I'm not quite sure what the point of blogging about this whole thing is, other that it was an experience that made me dig deep for strength. I'm really not a wimp (though my husband at times says I am). I think it's just a little breath-taking how quickly it went from a little twinge to pain my brain couldn't avoid. And, I swear fingers must have way more nerves than some other body parts. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Livin' in a Snow Globe
Since we're expecting 10 or more inches of snow starting tonight, I thought I'd take a moment to remember a time when I actually enjoyed snow. A time when it was beautiful and magical, and not a pain in the rear when it comes to things like getting Owen to school on time or getting to work to make a magazine deadline...
I read in the paper last night that our area has already received over 50 inches of snow for the year, which is our typical amount for the whole winter. No wonder I'm starting to agree with my husband's sentiment, which is "winter is a dick."
I read in the paper last night that our area has already received over 50 inches of snow for the year, which is our typical amount for the whole winter. No wonder I'm starting to agree with my husband's sentiment, which is "winter is a dick."
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