Archive for June, 2008

I <3 Moo

my moo cards, in preparation for BlogHer

Now all I need is an eyebrow wax. If I run out of time I’ll resort to eau de cashew like the Planter’s Unibrow girl.

Personal Shopper

(C) 2008 Photonburst

Photo (C) 2008 Photonburst.

This is us at Laura’s perfect wedding. This is me in a dress that I loved. This is Peter thinking, “oh shit – now I have to shop with her ALL the time.”

HE chose the dress. The three that I chose? All no go. The wedding was at 6:30pm, that dress became mine at 5:00pm. I think this is what happens when you don’t have children in tow, you can have thoughts that don’t revolve around snacks and puddles and rocks and touching things. Well, I did think about touching things … like my new dress.

We took complete advantage of attending a grown-up event, going so far as to get an overnight babysitter. We started our 20 hours sans children by going to Denver, checking into the magnificent Magnolia and then having a late, small lunch in LoDo.

As we headed back to our hotel I decided I needed something different to wear to the wedding. The three choices I had brought were insufficient. We stopped in Dress Barn (and yes the name of the store is unfortunate, but it is what it is), I found a few things to try on and we headed into the first changing stall. After trying a few things a sales lady rapped on the door and told Peter he had to leave the stall. No inappropriate noises were coming from the stall. And, I purposely chose the first one, the one that was nearly in the store so it would be clear we weren’t being inappropriate. Nevertheless, they have a “policy” against men in dressing rooms or so we were told as we left with our hands empty. My biggest question is, what about transvestites? This part of Denver is ripe shopping ground for men that like women’s clothing. The Payless Shoesource next door is the only place that I know that carries a wide variety of size 11 womens dress shoes.

We walked across the street to Ross where Peter found the perfect party dress. I tried not to think about how much I wished I had Purell with me at that moment. The store is a little skeevy. Although, every time I go in there I find something fantastic. Or in this case Peter finds something fantastic.

I knew he wasn’t just being nice when a stranger on the mall shuttle (a little bus that runs the length of 16th Street) complimented me on the dress. I think it all came together with the shoes he bought me for Mother’s Day.

Maybe I can make a few extra bucks pimping out my metrosexual husband as a personal shopper?

Laundry Weather

Friday was the sort of weather that I wish would last all summer. It was warm, but not hot. Breezy but not windy. Perfect for hanging clothes, and a kitty, out on the line.

I like hanging our laundry out on the line. But not in the winter. The idea of frozen stiff blue jeans doesn’t appeal to me. For half a year our dryer gets a break. It makes up for our A/C use, keeping our electric consumption pretty steady throughout the year.

Also, it’s a few minutes outside by myself. No kids want to come with me because they know they’ll be put to work. It also keeps the laundry sane for me. You can’t do marathon laundry when you hang clothes on a line. There are only so many clothes pin and so much line.

Last year when we decided to get a clothes line I read and read about hanging clothes out. There’s one thing everyone agrees on: use fabric softener. Your ass will thank you when your underwear don’t feel like sandpaper. I use a fairly standard “tops from the bottom, bottoms from the top” approach. Few of our clothes require ironing after hanging out. I think our clothes launder better too. The sun helps bleach our whites. And since I have to touch each article as its being hung, I can see which shirts of Audrey’s need to be re-washed. (How is it the girl child stains more shirts than her brother ever did?)

A laundry line is good for the environment, our clothes, our electric bill and my sanity. I’m glad we do it. I’m glad our neighbor with the split rail fence tolerates it. And I’m glad I live in an HOA-free neighborhood. It feels good to do something simple. Simply.

One Face Among the Many*

My friend Laura is fantastic for a million different reasons. Among them is that she’s six feet tall and still wears high heels. Her wow factor is high. And because I lack any true creativity I always think of her while listening to Scissor Sisters’ Laura. I think to myself that when I one day make her a mix cd, this song will definitely be on it. (She made a cd for me for my birthday where the first line from the first song is, “I am an old woman.” She claims it was unintentional. She’s crafty, so I don’t know whether to believe her.)

She got married this weekend! The ceremony was lovely, her father officiated. The ceremony and reception were both at the Wnykoop Brewery. It was a great venue. It was casual and fun and warm and inclusive, just like her. Also, it’s owned by Denver’s mayor, John Hickenlooper (that’s your trivia for the day, you’re welcome).

It couldn’t happen to two nicer people. Congratulations to you both.

And just so I don’t blow my blog-fodder wad all at once, I’ll save the details of the non-wedding specific events for tomorrow.

* blog titles: Must they reference the content of the post? Follow up question, if they do reference the content may they be enigmatic or must they be straight to the point? This title is pulled from the Laura lyrics. So it does tie back, but not in crisp straight lines.

Father’s Day

My kids totally scored on receiving a high quality dad, and for that I take all the credit. Finding and convincing him to marry me was tough work. I should be getting a gift from my kids on Father’s Day thanking me for giving them their awesome dad. Instead, I let them play with my our Wii.

And then I let Peter take us out to dinner.

Wii May Not Sleep This Weekend

Serendipity is my bitch today.

Walking into Target a woman was leaving with a Wii Fit. And I thought, WHAT!? Quickly I ran the possibilites … did they have Wiis? Should I buy a Wii Fit if they have another even though I am Wii-free?

I threw kids in the cart and briskly booked it over to electronics. On our way there I passed an employee with a flatbed cart with three Wiis. I asked if I could have one. She said, “I can sell you ONE.”

I assume that’s because I looked manic and she was afraid for her well being.

Then, I found the last Wii Fit. Total score.

I knew I needed another controller, so I asked for one of those. I was asked a series of important questions to which I replied, “I don’t know, do I?” Apparently a nunchuck is an important part of the Wii world.

Too bad I have eleventy million chores to do, I can hear the Wii calling my name.

Thinly Veiled Privacy

I was told yesterday that if I think I have any privacy I am sorely mistaken.

There are lots of reasons this could be true. I haven’t gone to the bathroom without an audience in 4 1/2 years. My age is no longer a closely guarded secret, as my children will tell anyone within ear-shot not only how old I am but that I am older than their daddy. I work in a relatively small office space with an open-floor plan, nearly all phone calls can be heard by everyone else. I have a loyalty card with my grocer.

Specifically though, I was thinking about my work’s blog uses our names in their full real-world glory. Google my name and I’m not on the first three pages (I didn’t go further than that). Add some details and you’ll get much warmer. This led to wondering about my kids and their online identities.

Should I be using their real names? I did. And then I didn’t. And now I do again.

I’m not concerned about a classic stranger kidnapping situation. We can rule that out as a reason for pseudonyms.

As Elliot nears elementary age he also nears having friends with computers. And google. Is it fair to him to have his friends read about his toddler years? Or is it fair to me later on that I can’t blog about my life because it is too intertwined with his? Where are the lines between these being his stories and them being mine? Do I have the right to tell the world he was busted for mooning the teacher? (He was.) Or that when at home he like to wear my peep toe red patent leather shoes? (He doesn’t. Or at least he’s not allowed to, those pretties are mine!)

Pseudonyms might provide the ability to write about our children without it being too obvious who they are. Granted, anyone that wants to search about my kids can and will. And things will turn up. I’m pretty well convinced though that they shouldn’t be coming from mommy’s blog.

Peter’s argument is that that’s not who we are. We live our lives online.

We do. We’ve made that choice. Elliot hasn’t made that choice yet. And I’m not convinced its my choice to make for him. There are other choices that are easy for me to make for him. He’s not old enough to make this choice whether I use his real name or not. Hell, there are people that grew up online and their not old enough to make that choice either. I would never forgive myself if he didn’t get some great opportunity|job|girlfriend|boyfreind|house|trip because when he was 2 years-old he licked his underwear.

What do you do? And what’s your reasoning?

Here’s to hoping that by the time it matters, blogs will be old-school and all kids will say, “my mom is so lame, she has a blog – I could like DIE.”

Brainache

Is that a real thing? Not a headache. But you know those days where you really flex your brain muscle? Is it an organ? Gah, I’m going to have to revisit basic anatomy & physiology before the kids need to know these things.

Our technical blog at work went live today with my inaugural post. It was oddly exciting even though it lacked fanfare. I’d link to it but

  1. it’s a Sharepoint blog
  2. it’s about a product at work
  3. it’d leave a trackback and I’m not sure I’m ready for that

You’ll just have to take my word for it being fantastic.

Maybe a picture from vacation will distract you?

Movin On Up

Well we’re movin on up,
To the east side.
To a deluxe apartment in the sky.
Movin on up
To the east side.
We finally got a piece of the pie.

Welcome to my new deluxe blog, PinkAsparag.us

Why PinkAsparag.us? I honestly don’t know. Peter kicked me off his domain, something about I was messing up his traffic counts. I went through a lot of words that end in TLDs. All real words were taken. I did find that WomanWithABayo.net was available. But, I traded in my bayonet for patent leather sandals some time ago.

So, PinkAsparg.us, it doesn’t mean a thing. And yet, I’m going to make it my new home. I hope it’ll come to mean much.

Please update your readers & your bookmarks, I’ll redirect for awhile. There’s a lot of housekeeping to do in the new place. While it’s brand spankin’ new, the contractors left some debris. Some links might be broken, some colors might be wrong, the theme might hurt my eyes, etc.

Thanks for helping me move in.

The 80s Called

It wants its fashion sense back

Too bad. She’s rockin the look. I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am that this is coming back. Because I too rocked this look back in the day.

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