The Skinny

From time to time, I'm pretty sure I made some comments about skinny jeans and how I'd never wear them. You see, I try to live by this motto:

If it's already been in style once in your lifetime, you're too old to wear it again.

So you'd probably be surprised that yesterday I got a package in the mail from J Crew with a pair of gray matchstick cords. And they fit. No spillage over the top. This may be some kind of miracle.

I wore them in public today. With motorcycle boots. And my big sunglasses. That's how I roll. If I'm wearing something that I'm unsure of, I rock the glasses. To hide the fear in my eyes.

Also: I purchased skinny jeans about a month ago, and they've been seeing regular rotation in my wardrobe. Unbelievably, they are comfortable. And, most of the time, skinny jeans are NOT low rise. Which I'm SO over. Nobody needs to see my crack when I bend over - which is all the time, wrangling the toddler.

To wear said skinny pants/jeans, there are a few rules, for me at least:

1) Under no circumstances shall scrunched down socks or puffy Reebok Freestyles enter the equation.

(True story, my cheer leading coach in high school had a pair of these babies to match every outfit. However, she was totally allowed because she was in a Paula Abdul music video - I think. And she taught us some sweet 80's moves. I can totally kick ball change like Pat Benetar in Love is a Battlefield.)

2) The correct size must be purchased. Trying to squeeze into too skinny skinny jeans is absolutely not a good idea. Unless you want your uterus in a vice.

3) I always wear my skinny bottoms with long tops. At least past the hips. On that note, if anybody ever catches me in a half shirt, have me committed because I've gone insane.

I still have not succumbed to acid wash. And I saw a photo of HAREM PANTS the other day and yeah, I can pretty much guarantee I'm not going there. I'm just not that cool. Um, I was NEVER that cool.

And they better not bring back the Hypercolor. Because I'm a heavy sweater and nothing is more uncool than drawing attention to the fact that you are sweating like a hooker in church.


The Shape of Things

One of the best things about being told to go out, get behind a camera and LOOK for shapes? All the sharp points and curves and slopes you've walked by a million times before and never noticed come into brilliant focus.

The square benches at the park.

The gentle triangular curve of the rings.

The sloping, steep bowl at the skate park down the street.

The leaf imprint in the sidewalk that you've walked over again and again but never saw. Till today
For more shapes, head on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry.


A Few Notes on Facebook

My name is Heather and I'm a Facebook addict.

But over the last few years of using it, certain things have gotten under my skin. Here are a few:

* Do not post creepy, suggestive things as your status to your spouse and then go back and forth with naughty banter. That's what text messaging is for. I don't need to know how you 'can't wait for the hot tub this weekend, wink wink' or anything of the sort. I'm not kidding. You just made me throw up in my mouth.

* While I'm impressed that you pressed a button and joined a group, or cut and pasted and reposted a status about how you hate/support [fill in the blank], that doesn't mean you've actually DONE anything. Once and a while, fine, and hooray for showing support for X cause. But once in a while, it's good to put your money (or time) where your status is and actually do something. And yes, I'm completely targeting this at one person. And I'm pretty sure she doesn't read this. Whoops if she does.

* Those applications who are supposed to tell you who is looking at your profile? Yeah, pretty sure they don't work. And if they do, it's probably not something you want to know. That hot guy from college? He's not looking. The guy who wrote you lame poems that were totally copied lyrics from The Cure? More likely.

*Doppleganger week? Wishful thinking for most. I did have a friend who was dead on (ANDREA. Good call on Fairuza Balk!). I'm guilty too. I look like Elisabeth Shue...in an alternate universe.

* Please post at least ONE photo of yourself somewhere in your profile. Your shots of your kids are precious, and I really love that one of your dog dressed up like Yoda, but I like to see a face - YOUR face especially because I'm not sure I know you.

* There is this one guy who friended me over a year ago. For the life of me, I can't remember him. I have chatted with other friends who have accepted his friend request too, and they can't place him either. No photos, no identifying information. Never updates status. Why do you have a Facebook account if all you do with it is join groups/take quizzes? I'm kind of creeped out by the fact that you joined the 'I Love Morning Sex' group. That's nice. Thanks for sharing. Plus, there is no photo of you. Are you real?

* For the love of God, before you repost things about Facebook being a pay site, or that someone by the name of 'X' is really a pedophile trying to get pictures of your kids - check Snopes.com. Great site, and can really save you from looking like a jackass. Has saved MY ass many a time.

* If someone you know is pregnant (or has other personal news) - LET THEM BE THE ONE TO LET THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG. Maybe they want to wait till they're out of the first trimester. Maybe they haven't told other people in their life that will be hurt they didn't hear it directly from the source.

* Status updates about poop, pee or any other bodily function are always hilarious.

What drives you bonkers about Facebook behavior?


Let's Call A Spade a Spade

Generally speaking, I don't get too much into current events on this blog.

But really, I just have to say something after that train wreck press conference Tiger
douchebag Woods held this morning. I mean, awful. I had to turn the channel about half way through.

What I need to say is this: PLEASE STOP ATTRIBUTING YOUR BEHAVIOR TO SEXUAL ADDICTION! What ever happened to accountability? Do you mean to tell me your penis is magnetically attracted to the same type of woman, over and over and over again? If you were a little more, say, diverse with your 'indiscretions', I'd be a little more inclined to believe you. But continuously choosing women with implants, lucite heels and drawn on eyebrows leads me to believe you have a distinct type porn stars - I don't think sex addicts have a 'type'. I think they'll pretty much nail anybody with a pulse.

Come on, now.

You are a man whore. You were caught. Back when I was in college, we had a name for you: an asshole.

End of story.

Your poor wife is standing by while you pretty much place blame on something other than yourself.

Shame shame shame.


A Kiss is Not Just a Kiss

I don't remember a lot from kindergarten. I vaguely remember a few outfits I liked to wear (a Little House on the Prairie pinafore comes to mind) and the way we couldn't have our coats in the coat closet because someone always had head lice.

Itch. Itch.

And a day that caused me major anxiety. The day Mrs. Campbell announced during circle time she was going to give each of us a kiss.


I remained composed (or as composed as a 5 year old can be) and waited. Was she going to make us line up for the kiss? Was she going to kiss us on the lips or the cheek? Time dragged by - even though it was probably only a minute - it felt like forever. I was one freaked out little kid.

Finally, Mrs. Campbell reached under her chair and pulled out a brown paper bag.

And proceeded to give each of us a kiss.

That kiss was a kiss I was okay with.

For more kisses, head on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry. Today, Beth's fabulous link up turns one! Happy Bloggy Birthday, Beth!



I Can't Stop

For Valentine's Day, my very sweet husband brought me flowers. Which is a very big deal, because:

a) My husband is one of those guys who doesn't 'do' Valentines, because it is a commercial, Hallmark holiday (likely story)...


b) Being in the nursery business, he thinks cut flowers are a waste.

But darn it anyway - he done got me flowers!

Okay, not real flowers. They ARE fake, but they are apparently a very huge seller. And, they light up.

Here they are in the light...

And the dark...

(P.S. I'm REALLY hating my new camera, so excuse the out of focus-ness. I'm working on it).

So, two years in a row, he has come through on Valentines, being all super sweet and thoughtful.

What he didn't bargain for, I'm pretty sure, is the crazy ass redecorating bug I caught as a result of his gift.

For some reason, the colors of the flowers (red with brown stems), really spoke to me. As did the Pottery Barn catalog.

I love our new bedding SO MUCH. Of course, my bedroom looks nothing like the catalog, but it sure beats the tired old sage toile bedding we had. Which was nice, but I was freaking tired of looking at it.

Now, I'm kind of obsessing over painting. I'm thinking chair rail. Or an accent wall. I brought home a bunch of paint samples. The red and the chocolate brown were not well received. I can't bring myself to do the gold...or maybe I can...

Today, the new decor received the toddler seal of approval. He climbed right up on the bed, grabbed a book, got under the covers and pulled them up to his armpits.

He's reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Such a literature fiend.

But most importantly, the bedding passed the jump test.

This was imperative.

So, that's the story of how a thoughtful little gift snowballed into a full on redecorating frenzy.

Yeah, I'm not done. I'm eying G-Rex's room and the kitchen. And the bathroom...


Shrinking Jeans Olympics

Today marks the start of the most revered, gut wrenching sports event in the world. Yes, the Olympics...THE SHRINKING JEANS OLYMPICS.

We just wrapped up our Rethink Your Shrink challenge (bye bye five pounds and HELLO to normal BMI!) and during the next two week, we will test our athletic prowess (and yes, we're totally doing Wii Fit Hula Hoop) in many feats of strength and endurance.

This mini challenge is open to everybody! If you've never joined us for a challenge, this is the perfect time to hop on board. You can participate in all events, or just a few. You are driving your own bus.

So, head on over to The 'hood (You haven't joined? Dude. It's free. DO IT.) and sign up for some events - and for a broader outline of how this mini challenge works, read this.

Today, I am participating in both the Three Mile Run and the Wii Fit Hula Hoop. So, I need to get going! I hope you take the chance to go check out this super fun challenge...and join in!


Here I Am

One year ago today, I was laid off.

I won't lie and say I knew it was coming, because I didn't. I knew it was a possibility, but I also knew that my job was between me and another person - and logically, I was the better choice to stay. I was better at the job. I had a better attitude. Period.

She also knew I was the right person to stay. After I covered her to go on a month long vacation (which meant I couldn't use my vacation days - so they were forfeited upon my termination. NICE.), she spent the last month before I was laid off looking for jobs. While she was at work. While I covered everything else. While I trained someone new that was brought in from another region so they could go back and do their job effectively. I listened to her whine every day about the lay offs. I stayed positive and did my job. It wasn't just a job to me, either, by the way. I truly enjoyed it - I felt like I had actually found a career where I could grow.

How naive. Seriously.

I should have kept my job, but that's not the way things worked out. I have since found out there was nothing I could do to keep my job.

Certain things I didn't want to believe about the company I had (HAD) so much respect for turned out to be true.

For a long time, I was really angry. REALLY ANGRY. Okay, I was sad first. Then I felt rejected. Then angry.

I slowly started to feel normal and actually relish being a stay at home mom. I won't lie and say I didn't (don't)miss my income. Being supported by someone else takes some getting used to. As does going days without real adult conversation. Though Thomas the Train and Diego and saying 'no' ten thousand times a day is lovely, the urge to talk about something other than kid stuff is still there.
Which led me to make several new friends - here - of all places. If you can't get out and meet people, I say bring them to you - via the internets.

Summer was amazing. It was the first summer since I was a kid that I remember playing outside every sunny day. Going to the beach. Gardening.

Then, at the end of summer, life happened, in a bad way, in a cancer way, and everything that had made me feel so hopeless and rejected all of the sudden seemed minuscule.

How I embrace my life and what I have been given has greatly changed. Priorities have shifted.

Things I thought I understood,ideals I'd embraced, definitions of normal - all those things have been obliterated. Some in a good way, some in ways that are so ugly and disturbing that getting my head round them has been difficult.

But. Here I am. One year later. February 11, 2009, I sobbed hysterically. Asked myself why. Sat in the dark and worried.

Today? I don't even think I'd cry about losing that job. There has been a tremendous shift, I have been forced to be an adult - REALLY be an adult. Not just a girl posing as one.



Last night we had a little photo shoot at bath time.

Getting smiles out of this kid (at least on demand) is a nearly impossible feat.

We can do 'surprised'.

He'll give me profile (work it).

He'll give me somber (and the signature 'I will not make eye contact' shot).

Oh! Almost a smile. Not quite.

Mom...really? I'm trying to take a bath here. I have serious water pouring issues to attend to. And squirty toys. Lay off.

Okay, fine. Here you go. Happy?

And there you have it. At the age of two, he has mastered the completely fake, almost painful photo smile.

No matter what he's doing, he's my favorite face to capture.

For more faces, jump on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry.



Like, Totally

We're working on his 80's vocabulary.

He already knows AWESOME! And GRODY!

Next up? I'm thinking gnarly...