every day's a holiday

the wolfeinelli's and our entourage of friendly beasts had quite the holiday this year. we embarked for west virginia on december 21, all presents and pet carriers. my sister was in with her husband, the inimitable matt, and my two little peanuts of a niece and nephew.

sadie and the biscuit seemed to carry on quite the love affair; much kissing ensued (after all, le bisquit *is* french).








jasper and i roughhoused. we spoke in robot voices. we acted in all manner of silliness (from jasper: "why did the spider crawl across the computer? he wanted to get to his website!"). i was declared his favorite aunt (take that!).






every family member was accounted for, if only for a day or two or even an hour or two in some cases. as we all create our own families (both chris and jay are recently engaged! woot!) and there is more distance between us, i do not take lightly the opportunities for us to be together. bdub and i did spend a couple of days here and there with our respective families of origin, but save some last minute changes of venue and work schedules, we balanced the tight rope of splitting our time without much ado. here we are listening to my FIL's band at the moose lodge:




(moose prices for a beer, an absolut and soda, a shot of maker's mark and a coca cola: $6 total. i am not kidding.)



we returned home to brooklyn on the 27th. on the 28th, i spent most of my actual birthday with the dean-assaels, where they fixed me a delicious dinner of thankfulness for our friendship (mock turkey, mashed potatoes and deanie's amazing green beans), and we opened our christmas gifts to each other. so fun. i love them dearly.

on the 29th, we convinced bdub's bff keith to come up to ny for the remainder of the holiday festivities. after hardly any arm twisting at all, keith changed his return ticket to L.A. and is currently chillaxin' on my couch. nothing could make me happier, truth be told.

that evening, my birthday party was held at the gutter bar in our 'hood, a bowling alley/bar with some serious old skool charm. rumor has it that the lanes and all bowling accoutrements were imported from an alley in the midwest. we arrived around 5 pm, decorated our little corner with streamers and balloons, laid out the beautiful cake that bdub got for me, and had some jack and gingers. aside from the alcohol, i felt about ten years old and i liked it! we bowled a couple of rounds and then ended our delightful evening with pizza and cake. it was truly the perfect birthday.












and on to new year's eve....we'll see what transpires. bdub's gig was cancelled at the last minute, so we actually have a new year's to do whatever we wish! i am pooped, so being lazy sounds very appealing right about now, but we will probably spend the evening with a couple of friends. my lovely friend, kelli white, has invited us over for what she describes is to be "a very mellow evening of good wine and good rock 'n roll" at her apartment. sounds perfect.

resolutions to come in a later post, but for now i feel only thankfulness for time spent with my family and loved ones, for another year and the wisdom it will (hopefully) bring, and for my love who truly is my most precious gift (so cheesy, so true).

hot dog

this afternoon, the biscuit and i were running some errands in our neighborhood. a group of 'tweens passed us and one of them took a look at the biscuit and exclaimed,

"DID YOU SEE THAT DOG?! YO, THAT DOG WAS HOT!!"

word, son.

christmas, christmas time is here

the christmas spirit is alive and well here at wolfeinelli inc (despite most of our decorations, such as our tree, being artificial in nature) and as for me, i have been a bit of a busy bee. which is nice. of course, most of my jobs have been editorial (read: low-paying) and i have been working almost entirely with the 8 months to 6 years old set, but i am not complaining. it is nice to be working again after an unexpected and unwanted hiatus.

during my downtime, i quite enjoyed doing a bit of christmas baking.






on the platter, clockwise from the top, we have peanut butter kisses, saltine toffee with pecans, buckeyes, chocolate cookies with white chocolate chips, macaroons, saltine toffee with almonds and walnuts, and mexican wedding cookies in the center. all have been taste-tested by bdub and given his stamp of approval. in fact, bdub was crucial to transferring the cookies into their containers, and taking care of any cookies that just weren't going to quite fit in their tupperware. come to think of it, i wonder what happened to those spare treats?

the biscuit developed a nasty case of hives on thursday afternoon...angry red spots on his bum, his ears, his muzzle. we made a vet appointment for friday morning and gave him a benadryl (which you can totally give to dogs: 1 mg of benadryl per pound of your dog's weight ). by morning, he was hive-free, so we cancelled the appointment. less than an hour later, the hives sprouted up again, but this time on his side and along his back, underneath the fur. another appointment was made for today, and again, the hives are gone. we went to the vet anyways, and are awaiting the results of blood and fecal tests. $245.00 well-spent? we shall see.

today is my catch-up day so as to feel released from holiday stress (ha!). we are doing laundry, and i am hoping to finish up some shopping, and prepare for our annual company party (our "company" being the two dudes bdub plays with regularly--chris "hotface" tarry and steve "stevie e" elliott and their lovely ladies).

the tradition of the musician's company party is a few years old, as we were all sitting around after a gig one december night circa 2005 and lamenting the fact that the boys have no corporate holiday party to attend, though they had many where they were to provide the entertainment. thus, our company holiday party was born.

this year, the party is tomorrow evening at wolfeinelli inc. and should prove to be a good time (hot buttered rum is on the menu). tomorrow afternoon, i am busting out the old flute for meredith dean-augustin's christmas concert. after a traumatic four and half years under the tutelage of this lady i have not played my flute in public since 1996, so this should prove interesting. i am confident, though, as i took the old girl (my flute, not my professor) out of her case and was pleased to discover that i can still rock some debussy! a true christmas miracle indeed.

i think i have a crush on garrison keillor

q: what passes for "aromatherapy" to norwegians in lake wobegon?
a: bacon and coffee

the 'rents came into town and brought with them much ado (fun, chaotic, at times exasperating and publicly of the "i am trying to act casual but new york scares me a little" ado)...plus tickets for us to go to a live broadcast of a prairie home companion at the town hall theatre. dad did us a solid and managed to somehow finagle seats that were about eight rows from the front and five seats from the middle aisle, with the sound effects guy smack dab in front of us!



fred newman was able to extract from his mouth the sounds of horse's whinnies, prowling tigers, even the notorious alligators of the new york city sewage system. his arsenal held telephones, deadbolts, creaky doors, a pair of shoes hanging around his neck. for me, he was definitely one of the highlights, though i really felt as if i had experienced two hours worth of good, clean, american music and humor. seriously. i felt down-right patriotic....and not patriotic in the bushie "i'm an amerikkun- freedom ain't free" kind of way. it was more a feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket of the familiar. the entire production completely sucked me in. i was entranced.

thanks, dad.

afterwards, we walked north several blocks (through times square--always fun eye candy for the tourist) to rockefeller center to behold the tree:


now that's something.

so it begins again: my love affair with where i live. there is something magical (or atleast fun) about a place where you can stuff yourself with a plate of pierogies, a bowl of borscht and fried dumplings for $7.50 (what can i say? dad had a hankering for polish food. and yes, i know that pierogi ARE dumplings...i just wanted fried dumplings too), experience a magnificent show, trudge through the masses at times square, and take in perhaps one of the most iconic of all holiday spectacles..all within a matter of hours.

being as the broadcast was from new york, garrison keillor sang a little ode to west 43rd street to get the audience warmed up, and the program contained a short essay from one of APHC's writers on being a new yorker (almost). an excerpt:

I Might Have Been A New Yorker
Laura Buchholz- December 2007

When I moved to New York in 1996, I came with the "let's give this six months and see what happens" attitude. I lasted for 11 years, almost 12, having just moved back to the Midwest in August of this year.


And while I throw back my head and laugh every time I think about my new spacious two-bedroom apartment with high ceilings and hardwood floors and lots of closet space with a garage and NO ROOMMATES for $900 a month, I am concerned about my membership in the New York club. If indeed I was ever a member in the first place. Leaving New York feels an awful lot like going all the way through medical school, and then the internship and the residency, and taking on all the debt, and then deciding-you know what? I think I want to raise chickens.


When I announced that I was leaving New York, my friends tended to have one of two reactions. The first, delivered with an incredulous sneer, was one simple word: "Why?" The second was a bit longer, but still sounded like one word:

"ohmygodyouaresoluckyyouaregettingoutof
hereIwannagetoutofheretooIamgoingtodiehere
ohmygodIamgoingtodiehereinNewYorkifidon't
getoutofheresoonwhenamigoingtogetoutof
hereyouaresolucky!!!"


Both of these reactions are correct.


How long does it take before a person qualifies as a New Yorker? Some say 10 years. Others insist it's 15. I tend to believe that however long you are in New York, add another two or three years and that's when you qualify for membership. 21 years? You're not really a member until you've been here 23. And if you leave--the clock probably goes back to zero. I don't want to believe this, but knowing New York, it's probably true.


......


But there are things I miss. Alot of them. I miss how easy it was to meet up with people. New York is like a giant dormitory for ambitious adults. A giant dormitory with a rat problem.


But I have suspended my membership for now, and that is okay. If the clock goes back to zero, so be it. I can take it. Because I was a New Yorker, I think. Or at least I was two years away from being one.


......

and a p.s. on my new apartment 'tude

i almost forgot that i would like to share my thoughts on our apartment situation:

while i have been quite dismayed by the piles (literally, piles) of mouse droppings, the cracks where walls meet floors, the wobbly front gate and crooked front door of our abode.... upon perusing the craigslist apartment listings, i have discovered that for the amount of space we have in the neighborhood where we live, even despite our recent and sizeable rent increase, the dub and i are STILL paying a monthly rent that is waaaay under market value. like anywhere between $250 and $400 per month under market value.

to this i say, "let me furnish and improve upon our space with these massive savings that have been cast before me"! i figure this allows me a monthly sum of $200/month to put towards beautifying our space. FLOR tiles? why not? we can take 'em with us when we leave! wall art? again! an investment! poppytalk has examples galore of affordable art!

i can see it now:






i see the addition of the indoor lap pool as completely within my space and budgetary constraints.


also, i am still all ears for any green, non-chemical, and somewhat cruelty-free methods of dealing with our mouse problem, so please leave a comment with any suggestions. so far i have heard only of kitty litter ("used" kitty litter...clearly this doesn't work as we still have both a litter box and mice in our basement), moth balls, and peppermint oil. soon our house will be smelling of my nana's closet and a winter wonderland. mmm....old lady scent....

a serious attitude adjustment

this nowlze has had a change of direction since her last blog post. after a day or so of wallowing in self-pity, i have done the following to get back onto the path of self-improvement:

-gone to the gym
-put up the holiday decorations
-put down some new rugs (always a sure-fire mood lifter)
-cleaned up a few piles of mouse poop
-sent out emails to my work peeps hoping to get a bite or two of a good test (test in the sense of "test shoot", or a collaborative photo shoot resulting in a few good prints for my sorely lacking portfolio).
-organized some inspirational makeup and photography looks to refer to at the above-mentioned impending tests.

what else can a nowlzie do?

le dub and i are going on a date tonight as well. this always perks me up. we're going to the mermaid inn. it's one of my all-time favorite date spots. i am already thinking about what i'd like to eat: probably some oysters, maybe the lobster chowder or yellowfin tuna tartare, and the grilled mahi mahi or spaghetti with shrimp and scallops. YUM.

i also love that they give you complimentary pudding for dessert (not that i ever leave room) and a fortune telling fish:



maybe mine will provide some insight as to when i will be busy again. natch.

we are also on the hunt for a fun post-dinner activity. there's not much in the way of music happening tonight, aside from the music of bdub's work-friends (fellow musicians), and to be honest, while i love to support bdub's peeps, it can be a lot of pressure and not totally relaxing (can you talk during their set? when is it ok to leave? is this work or is this fun?).

apologies for the most boring blog-post ever. for some better reading, allow me to link to the wonderfully insightful maiden voyage post of my sister's blog! i LOVE that i can keep tabs on my favorite west coast family (and learn a thing or to about not sweatin' it).

to bring you some holiday cheer...

this is the best thing ever.

i would give anything to embed it into this blog, so if anyone knows the code, pass it along!

i could use some holiday cheer, to be honest. i have been feeling "blah" since upon our return to new york. i think it has to do with-- despite woobie "the destroyer" and one less mouse in our house-- the suspicion that there are many more hiding in the walls, scurrying around. i am discovering mouse poop in abundance now that my eyes are prone to look for it. it disturbs me. it's along the wall near our bed (on my side), on the carpet in the bathroom, but mostly in the corners of our kitchen, on the shelves. it smells like a guinea pig's cage in there. no joke.

the more i hole up in our apartment, the more i notice its flaws, and the mice are just the tip of the iceberg. i haven't dragged myself to the gym in a couple of weeks. my last haircut was, to put it kindly, not so good. i am majorly disappointed in what i have to show for my work, and i fear for the winter months.

and not to get too personal, but has it ever made you more annoyed when your complaints are followed by less commiseration and more problem-solving? i need commiseration, people! i know how to solve the problem...that's not the point. i know that i need to shower, to clean, to drag myself outside and do the crap-ton of christmas shopping that lies ahead or atleast try to make a dent in my never-ending to-do list. but somehow, it's 4:43 PM, dark outside, and here i sit--in my pajamas.

sigh.

he is the hunter

at six this morning i heard it. it wasn't the cry of "i'm hungry- feed me" nor was it the disturbing, warbling cry of "look out--i'm going to puke up a hairball now".

this was a battle cry that said (to quote bjork): "i am the hunter. i'll bring you the goods."

i poked my husband and said, "either woobs is hurt, or he's gotten the mouse". got it he did. he got it good.

shortly before we left to return to new york from west virginia, the woob went missing for a good twenty minutes. just as we were about to give up and say au revoir to him until our return at christmas, bdub found him in the basement. i gave woobs what-for and we both warned him that he'd better catch that mouse to make it up to us.

so on this thanksgiving, i am grateful for the woobs. i am grateful for all creatures who share their love with us so freely and who trust us and forgive us over and over again; i think of dogs and cats and shelters who want nothing more than to learn to share their love again, and i am especially grateful to the lessons learned from them. i am thankful for my husband who willingly got up at six am --despite having to get up to play a church service at eight-- and scooped up our dead friend and placed him in a baggie (which just the thought of having to do myself fills me with sheer terror and nausea).

i am thankful for family and inlaws in west virginia. for the relaxation, the time spent together, the exhaustion of the travel, the old members (and the new)...the drama, the ties, the bickering, the forgiving, the annoyances, the love, the rediscovery. somehow i am thankful for it all because i feel as if there can't be one without the other. as my mother in law said, "better out than in"...and i hope we all hold each other to that and mark our own words.

yo yo yo---let's take that back a minute

i realize that in my mouse-induced insanity i managed to gloss over the greater half of my week! plus, i need to clear up something: it seems that my friend ehrrin believes i have defied her, and i need to set the record straight.

pre-sickness, i had decided that should i not be booked for any jobs on wednesday, i would attempt to drive to pittsburgh and see the dub perform with my brightest diamond at the warhol museum. this has been mentioned in previous posts. though i was no longer a twisted ball of achiness by wednesday, i was still in.....gastrointestinal distress. the thought of driving seven-plus hours was not appealing. plus, i was booked for a great job with this guy--amazing photographer who is sweet as apple pie.

so alas, da burgh was not to be. however, my dear friend katie schwartz came a' calling, asking if i was interested in recuperating at her beach house in stone harbor, nj. now THIS i could handle. after my job was over, the biscuit and i headed south, and were greeted by katie and her st. bernard, gus.

we shopped. we cooked. we ate...or atleast, i ate some of katie's delicious treats some of the time. the rest of the time i attempted any and all variations on the BRAT diet (Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, and Toast) so as to soothe my stomach. i substituted cheerios for toast most of the time, and katie accused me of smelling like a baby. plus, we picked out a christmas dress for me at tj maxx, and i think i officially reverted back to two years old. it was odd.

but back to the fun and less wierd stuff: the dogs cavorted on the beach. we chilled on the soafs and read magazines and watched the premier of project runway. katie and i booked massages with this guy, nick. nick gave me the best massage ever. my knots were untied...my muscles were unlocked...even my lower back, which feels pretty constantly inflamed and sore, was loose as a goose. as katie and i compared our blissful, noddley states, she asked me, "when nick massaged your scalp and then let your hair fall until every last stand was hanging, didn't you just feel like he loves you?" perhaps it's a "had to be there" moment that doesn't transfer well to the blog, but it's absolutely true. our massage therapist loves us.

post-massage, katherine had booked a couple of other spa treatments at a spot nearby. many dollars later, katie returned from her salt scrub and tanning treatment looking a little spotty. a little....streaked. and definitely not amused. luckily, much of it rubbed off, but in yet another "would only happen to katherine" moment, the poor thing was quite a scary shade of orange blotchiness for the better part of the afternoon, and kept repeating, "LOOK AT ME!!! I LOOK CRAZY!!"

by friday evening, the biscuit and i were prepared for a relaxing, easy return to brooklyn. instead we were scared shitless by insane drivers: on the BQE, a crazy driver decided it would be a great idea to swerve into the lane to his left. the motorist occupying that lane swerved into mine, and i in turn swerved to my left. thankfully, i did not hit the guard rail, but the biscuit flipped in his bag and hit the dashboard.

i panicked a bit. i unzipped his overturned sherpa bag, and a shaken bisquit crawled over onto my lap. his left ear was a little bent, but he was otherwise no worse for the wear.

drive carefully, my friends, and please watch out for "the other guy". from here on out, le bisquit will be belted in in his bag. and we move forward, thinking not of what could have been on the road, but thankful that we were spared (and maybe in a bit of karma -induced guilt, this is what i get when i defy ehrrin?).

the mouse diet

yes, i am trying this new way of (not) eating. i call it the "mouse diet" and it consists of avoiding your kitchen due to THE GRAY MICE THAT DWELL THERE!!! AND POOP ON YOUR STOVE!! AND CRAWL AROUND ON YOUR STUFF!!! AND CREEP YOU OUT WHEN YOUR HUSBAND IS AWAY!!

i just saw him. he looks like this:


but the more i creep myself out about him, he looks like this in my head:


in other news, le dub played with my brightest diamond last night here in nyc! it was, of course, great to see the dub, whom i have missed terribly. the opener, tim fite, deserves special mention, as he is, like, my new hero. i love him.



unfortunately, pms-nowlze was on the scene. i would say that she made her appearance shortly after my job du jour (which was reshooting a portion of leah siegel's video for her amazing song "a day at the river"-- see previous post).

currently, menstrual nowlze has come to stay for the better portion of this week. to steal a line from my dear ehrrin keenan, this evening my uterus has been shouting, "DO NOT DEFY ME!", and sadly, it yearns for food which my wuss self is unable to access from my kitchen. perhaps i can muster up the courage to venture in for some mango sorbet, so long as the woob continues to stand guard. he is on night watch, and lemme tell you, a finer feline cannot be found. my cat rules. he's not just a pretty face; few know that the woobens is a born mouser.

and for all my talk of the biscuit, isn't it sad that the woob only gets the occasional mention when i am in freak out mode and depending on his ninja-like skill to help me out of a bind? i feel guilty. i am a bad, bad kitty mama. i love you, woob. my first son. the wind beneath my wings.

i am sick.

sick. sick. sick.

yesterday, i went over to kara dean's in the afternoon to make soup. we chopped a bit, sauteed our veggies and poured in our tomatoes. deanie and dyl finished the rest of the pot and about ten minutes after i sat down, i found it difficult to move off of the couch. no good.

i slept for three hours at their place and then managed to drive home and watch bad tv. still today, my joints ache...from my neck to my wrists to my ankles. i go from burning hot to shivering in minutes. my stomach hurts in waves that trickle down from around my chest area to my belly button. my hair even hurts when i try to put on or take off my sweatshirt (which i feel like i have been doing every five minutes).

the biscuit has yet to leave my side, though. bless him.

bdub is on a little tour with my brightest diamond this week. they are en route to louisville from chicago, and he will be playing in new york on saturday! not long now. i had seriously considered making the trek to pittsburgh for their show at the warhol museum this wednesday, but since brushing my teeth seems like a major accomplishment today, i can't imagine making a seven hour car ride. who knows? maybe i'll feel lots better in a day, and i do love my pittsburgh peeps, like this girl and this girl. the best.

and look at these cute photos of the sweet divines! this is the girl group with the retro style that i mentioned way back in this post. aren't they cute? see if you can spot the wolfe in there!

my favorite things

to counteract the piss and vinegar of my last entry, i thought that i would post some of my favorite things. for those of you with blogs of your own, i'd love to hear about your favorite things, too! this time around, mine will be purely material, because my favorite sentimental things would be the cozy nook of bdub's neck, the biscuit's frito-licious scent, my hands side by side with my mom's (they're the same, and i can see the future. which makes me smile and feel connected to this lineage of short, ballsy, fiercely-loving women)...

but that's for another post. for now, allow me to pretend i am oprah and share my faves.

le sportsac bags:


i have been loyal to these for years. they have amazing patterns and they last forever. when they start to get dirty, you can throw them in the washing machine and they look good as new.


dc apres-ski boots in chocolate:


lemme tell you what, these boots were one of my all-time best shoe purchases. i think they are filled with that memory foam stuff in the bottom, because every step i take feels like i am walking on tiny little sole-shaped pillows. cute with jeans, skirt, dresses, cords. totally waterproof and very warm. i made a promise to myself a couple of years ago that i MUST HAVE warm, waterproof boots for the slushy new york februarys, when the snow melt is dirty and extra cold. these have fit the bill nicely!


graftobian high-definition cream foundation:


this is what i use on photoshoots and on myself. i use it with an alcone non-latex sponge (my favorite makeup wedge--the best) that i wet and then wring out. this "sheers" the foundation to perfection. amazing finish, nice range of shades, good pigmentation, great coverage, and long-wearing. probably my most recommended product (and the most asked about, as people always want to buy it).


the bubble roome 3-butter creams:


i have never met a bubble roome product i didn't love --and it was hard to choose just one-- but these body butters are simply perfection; the best incarnation of their body butters yet. i got to try them out when deej (their creator) was testing them, and i was blown away.

they're made of good stuff, too, which is getting to be more of a concern of mine, especially the use of parabens. paraben is a controversial preservative that's in everything and may be linked to breast cancer; all bubble roome products are paraben-free. they smell amazing and the price point is right: no $32.00 nonsense for a sugar scrub, like some high-ends brands, but every bit as good. better, in fact.


smith's rosebud minted rose lip balm:


a classic. but dude, now it comes in a minted version. i just worked on a job with my friend, jules, and she turned me on to this. i am now obsessed. it's not a strong, overly-tingly mint, either; it leaves just a hint of subtle, minty-rosy freshness on your kisser.


the garmin nuvi gps:


truth be told, this was a gift for bdub's birthday, but the gps has become one of my favorite things. there's an amazing sense of security that comes with knowing you're not going to get lost (or if you do, you will easily get back on track). plus, it points you to the nearest starbuck's or lunch spot, and estimates your arrival time. i love it.


sherpa original bag deluxe


at first i thought that the price for the sherpa bag was a little high for me, but the quality is outstanding. it's comfortable, you can wash the inner liner, and the biscuit loves it. he crawls right in as soon as he sees me grab my keys! plus, the sherpa is designed to fit under and airline seat and is the only carrier approved for in-flight use by all of the major airlines.


dwell bedding:


i heart dwell bedding. karadean and i like to hit up their annual sample sale and clean house. i love the color pallette, the patterns, the quality, the feel of the cotton. "playful yet minimalist" is a fitting description. plus, it cleans up well when the biscuit pukes on the bed.


trader joe's


i seriously had to wrack my brain to think of a product at trader joe's that i don't like. i honestly can't think of one dud. i can think of many, many favorites, though: the dried white peaches, the flattened bananas, the cheese and green chile tamales, the spinach artichoke ravioli, the gorgonzola and walnut tortellini, the chili-lime cashews. all amazing and less expensive than the nastiness that passes as consumables at our local key food.


sudoku:


i had to fit my puzzle nerd in somewhere on this list. i really, really enjoy sudoku (in case you are unfamiliar, an explanation is here). i wouldn't call myself "obsessed", but i quite enjoy the satisfaction of completing a puzzle before i get to my subway stop. aahhh...

VERY put off!! (or the following can suck it)

it is friday. over the past three days i have been working for a bunch of ingrates, busting my butt to make the precious client happy.

let me rewind a bit. i received a call from a production company whom we will call "crappy production services". CPS, as they will herein be known, is a production co. that essentially whores out their crew to the lowest bidder. they pay a flat rate for makeup (which is ridiculous, as rates vary from job to job), and then charge the client a markup of who knows how much.

for this particular job, i was to be working on an infomercial for a major retail chain that likes to move into poor communities, destroy small businesses, is anti-union, and sells a bunch of gross crap. additionally, i can now say with certainty that the execs at walmart (oops--did i just say walmart?) are rude, pompous, and extremely cheap.

CPS whored me and my makeup artist friend out to an even crappier production company who then whored us out to walmart at half of our normal day rate, not telling us that this job would last for three days until the day before we started shooting (i was on a "light hold" but never given any information as to whether they would be honoring that hold until the eleventh hour. this makes for a stressful predicament for a freelancer). we were also not told whether or not this would be on national television. we were also not given an address or call time until the evening before shooting (after business hours, i might add).

i was only told that my friend and i were to do makeup and "very light hairstyling" for four women. this turned into full hair and makeup, and it was to look consistent over the course of three days. i immediately knew that it would be necessary to have my friend booked for the additional two days. my queries to anyone who would listen about this or provide me with any information (including my contact at CPS) fell on deaf ears.

someone took pity on me and directed me to the client, to whom i introduced myself and then asked, "do you think it would be possible to hire the second makeup artist for an additional two days? i don't know if you are the correct person for me to ask, but if you would know whom to speak to, that'd be great!" they peered up from their laptops, and mumbled that they weren't sure about the hiring, but directed me to the production manager...i had no clue as to whom this was, as i was not given a call sheet, a schedule, or anyone's name (nor did anybody introduce themselves).

i finally located and went to the production manager with whom they recommended that i speak, and she immediately drilled me:

"DID YOU ASK THE CLIENT ABOUT HIRING ANOTHER MAKEUP ARTIST?

THAT WAS A BIG NO NO!!

THEY WERE VERY PUT OFF BY YOU!!"

i could have punched her. i almost did, actually. when i told her that someone pointed me to the precious client, she jumped on me again:

"WELL, WHO TOLD YOU THAT??"

i refused to engage in her madness. i explained that i had asked my contact at CPS, who could not tell me if it was possible. that i did not discuss money with the client- that i simply asked them a question.

towards the end of the day, my completely useless contact at CPS said to me and my friend, "good night girls" to which i replied "bye" and then stopped for a minute and asked "are we wrapped now?" (usually you don't say your goodbyes until the day is done. duh.)

production manager, again, chimed in and said to me, "I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'RE WRAPPED! I DON'T THINK YOU'RE WRAPPED! YOU NEED TO ASK THE DIRECTOR THAT!"

suffice to say that over the course of the next two days, word must have spread from this psycho of the horrible diva-like makeup artists(!!), as the director, producer, production manager and client completely ignored us (even when we said hello and goodbye, or "how ya doing?" or other various things, like "thank you" at the end of the shoot). the only bright spot is that they finally did agree that it would be necessary to hire my friend for the additional two days, which was a good thing, considering that on day two we had an ADDITIONAL 19 actors, and on day three an additional six actors portraying walmart employees as well as atleast ten extras (i lost count).

i have worked with major companies and brands in every capacity during the whole of my career, several retailers (such as kmart, macy's, belk, marshall field, you name it) as well as huge brands such as pepsi, visa, the nfl, and american express, and i have NEVER experienced a client being less than gracious to me. ever. i have also worked with television producers for major networks, and all of them have been kind, complimentary to their crew, and effective communicators. before this job, i had never been yelled at by a director, scolded by a production manager, or ignored by my main contact.

i am seriously considering writing a little paragraph or two about my experience and sending it to walmartsucks.org, but i think i'll wait until i'm paid.

on a smaller note, it is also nice on jobs to get a break to eat (usually one hour, which is required by unions--but what does walmart care about unions?). it is nice to be provided with water so as to remain hydrated. it is lovely, when working your butt off, to be given your space, rather than to be hounded every five minutes as to when you will be done and told, "just fix them up to about 80%". that is a direct quote from the director of the project (whom they scabbed in from michigan, as they're clearly too cheap to hire any number of talented directors from new york). i held my tongue and did not ask him which 20% he would like for me to omit (covering up the bags under their eyes? giving them powder? should i line both eyes, or just one?).

therefore, the following people can suck it:

crappy production service
whored out production company
jerk production manager
talentless director
walmart
walmart execs
the 100 or so crappy actors who don't know when to just shut the hell up and realize that no, it's not all about them and their incessant need for attention.

my husband is a superhero

i planned on posting about how my husband is a superhero long before today, but something happened. in my last post, i was merrily boasting of his skateboarding prowess in the face of the terrible 'tweens, which made me think of many of bdub's superhero encounters in our fair city.

but then the unthinkable happened. the next day, just blocks from our apartment, my skateboarding hero hit a bump and he stumbled, hand over hand, foot over foot, knee and palms first into the gravel. he limped home and, like a good superhero wife, i helped to clean him up and bandage him. this made me momentarily reconsider the notion that he is indeed a superhero, until my good friend mags pointed out that even superheroes get hurt. it's the recovery that counts, as they retreat to their superhero caves or lairs only to return stronger than ever.

she's right. and thus, i would like to share two examples of my sweet husband's superhero powers in the face of adversity on the streets:

in our fair city, there seems to be a trend among motorists, one of honking horns and riding bumpers despite traffic lights or stop signs that make such behavior completely illogical. hurry up and wait! be the first to sit at the stop sign! oh look! you made it to the red light first! here's your cookie.

as bdub was rambling along one sunday in our car, approaching a red light, he was being tailed by some nasty fellows, honking and riding his bumper. my hero had had enough. he coasted to a stop, and waved them forward.

"is there a problem?" he asked.

"sunday driver, mang" they replied in monotone.

"excuse me?" he asked.

"you a sunday driver, mang" they repeated.

to which he replied, "my grandma always said that people in new york are in a hurry to get nowhere".

they paused. there was a brief second or two of a stare down.

they laughed. they chuckled, "yeah..". they shifted their car into drive, grinned, and all went along on their merry ways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in an unrelated event, my hero was unloading his equipment at his rehearsal space. he signaled to the car behind him (which was filled with a posse of scary gentlemen) that he was going to back up into the loading area.

this made the villains very upset, as they honked and carried on and called my hero a "f**king a**hole".

upon hearing this, my hero approached their window and tapped on it. they exchanged looks as if to say, "who does this guy think he is?"

as they rolled down the window, bdub said to them, "i'm sorry to have made you wait, but i really don't think it's necessary to call me a f**king a**hole".

to which the driver sighed, and then replied: "i know, man. i'm just really stressed out. i'm sorry".

and all went along on their merry ways.

to some, these may not seem like superhero maneuvers, but to me, they are signs of greatness. for i have heard tale of people tapping bumpers, kindly rolling down their windows, and forthwith getting punched in the face at the white castle drive through (just ask our friend nate-- true story!) or of innocents getting in fights over nothing but puffed up male testosterone-fueled aggro bullshit.

my hero has never engaged in fisticuffs. he chooses his words carefully. he shows nor possesses any fear. he is not willing to suffer fools gladly, nor will he back down in the fight to make his neighborhood a better place.

he will correct children who are cursing, ask people blasting music on the subways to turn it down, call after people who litter and have them pick up their garbage. as his wife, i fear that someday he may run into the wrong kind of fellows and his vigilantism may get the best of him, but i know, like any true superhero, that he would need only to retreat to our lair for a bit to emerge stronger than ever.

my hero.

halloweeners

this post is dedicated to my favorite halloweener, bdub.

today bdub, dressed as disgruntled vietnam vet (as he is every day), had forgotten his stick bag at his rehearsal space...for those of you who are unfamiliar, let me dumb it down a shade: le dub's stickbag is the container in which he carries his sticks, mallets, brushes and various accoutrements that are needed for playing drums. his rehearsal space is about a fifteen minute walk from our apartment, just passed our old place.

le dub was in a hurry and running late for a rehearsal. to save time, he hopped on his skateboard and whizzed by on the streets, feeling confident, breezy, and quick like a bunny! as bdub apporached our old building, he realized that he was under attack. eggs came at him from all sides, smashing to the ground like gunfire.

however, these wayward tweens were too slow for bdub!! while we both can understand that a 35 year old man on a skateboard would be a reasonable target for these bad seeds, this matters not. what DOES matter is that le dub was too fast for 'em!

the boy's still got it!

in my fantasy world, i believe that the kids in our old neck of the 'hood saw bdub coming....and that one of those (now) tweens was a kid we used to refer to as "young man". it seemed that whenever we got ourselves into awkward predicaments, this rather chubby boy used to saunter by on his bike and stare at us, slack jawed, only to inquire, "wha happen?"

...to which an annoyed bdub would reply "what are you talking about?"
...to which young man would reply with things like "you know...with....tha one?"

bdub would then say, "young man...." and follow this address with your typical, "this doesn't concern you" or "you ask a lot of questions" or "why do you ask?".

i would like to believe that young man saw le dub coming, clenched his egg tightly and tried in vain to pelt the dub. sucker.

cuteness alert

"uncle" bdub recently did a recording session at this spot called frisbie in tribeca. they had the cutest kid's t-shirts and onesies, so of course he had to get a couple for our favorite niece and nephew.

and just look at what was in my inbox!



i think those two need to start a band or something. they already exude such 'tude.

beezie also emailed me this--from sadie's first birthday (and really, what good is birthday cake without a handful of goldfish crackers thrown in?)

ah, time... she flies...


in other news, this weekend was pretty relaxed once i got through my 12 and a half hour day at cstv on saturday (ouch). on sunday, bdub and i went to visit kurly, dyl, and wiles for some halloween festivities at fort greene park. we were a bit late for the activities, but were in the spirit regardless.

the assael's costumes: kurly as bearded lady, dylan as fortune teller (complete with giant 'stache and turban), and wiles as strong man.

i swear, had there been a baby costume contest, that kid would have won first prize. he was dressed in a striped sweater, red knit pants, boots, studded black cuffs, a studded black belt, and, to top it off, his hair was slicked over and he had a penciled-in curly black moustache. he also carried (or, played like a guitar, rather) a big dumbell which dylan made out of a black plastic handle of some sort and two big, black styrofoam balls on the ends with "100" stenciled on them. genius.

i will definitely post pics when i get 'em! i dressed as rosie the riveter (v. easy last minute costume, should you ever need one) and the biscuit went as himself, as he was not digging his dinosaur costume. it so messed with his balance, in fact, that he was falling flat on his face (which is flat enough). here's my last minute rosie:


bdub went as "disgruntled vietnam vet"...which, actually, isn't a costume at all but rather bdub's "uniform" as of late: brown hooded sweatshirt, olive drab army-ish coat, jeans, and brown chukka boots. to get into character, bdub was saying things like, "i gave it all for my country, man! when i came back, they called me a baby killer, man!".

good stuff.

so goodnight moonlight ladies....

i readied my ingredients and got set to chop some onions for lasagna. my ipod shuffled to "sweet baby james" by james taylor...a lullabye that immediately makes me think of my nephew (james "jasper" laster). which makes me think of my sister.

which makes me think of the fact that she lives on the opposite coast. and that i see her but maybe three times a year at best. which makes the lump in my throat grow.

because it makes me think of the decisions we all make...of how when i was a teenager i formulated a life plan that included the eventual purchase of a home with a guest house for my brother jay...because he would have to live with me so we could never be apart (duh). which makes me realize that we, too, are far away from each other (in a couple of ways).

kurly and dyl are going to portland next month to check things out...will they end up across the country? as they told me of their plans, i nodded and was truly excited for them, and i understand, and i know what it means to need to move. but the lump....she grows.

i know that this is what it means to grow up. and this is what happens as we become who we are to become and meet our spouses and figure out what and where we would like to be. sometimes it feels cruel and unfair (i can only imagine how this must sometimes strike our parents, like a sucker punch in the gut when they look around and realize that their babies are gone).

sometimes it feels like an impossibility to strengthen our ties to our families, both those that we were born into and those whom we have chosen. so please, forgive me if i haven't done the best job of this. i fear that i will become worse at it as life changes and grows. that my niece and nephew won't really know me beyond the kooky aunt who sends them weird things in the mail and kind of sounds and looks like their mom.

that eventually as we shape shift into moms and dads and other forms of grownups ourselves we will all morph into other people, letting those threads of home and youth slip from our fingers, take a backseat, turn into a name on the christmas card list. and that makes me sad beyond words.

zen eatin'

i know that this is usually the topic of foodie blogs, such as that of my friend ehrrin's "now that's good eatin'!". but i must gush about my delicious dinner last night.

kurly and dyl procured a sitter from their baby sitting co-op (isn't that a rad idea? that kurly is an innovator) and we met for dinner and sake at zenkichi.

zenkichi is an intimate and beautiful ninja lair of a restaurant in our 'hood, marked only by a glowing orange light on the outside of a building with a wooden facade (a very strange, organic contrast to its industrial surroundings). as you walk in, you give your name and then are directed to a rock garden waiting area, complete with bamboo stalks in the center and smooth gray stones underfoot.

the roped-off dining room is up a set of stairs, and each booth is sectioned off with wooden slats and a rolled shade for total privacy...should you need anything, you buzz a little buzzer that is attached to your table! radness.



here's what we had (all tapas-style, for sharing):

miso soup for kurly and dyl
sake sampler for me, bdub and dyl
tuna carpaccio
miso roasted eggplant
shrimp tempura with camembert
scallop tempura with green tea salt
grilled rice ball
wild mushroom gratin
truffled egg custard
age tofu in broth
black miso cod

everything was fantastically fresh and delicious, like a little japanese tea party in my mouth! an explosion of flavors! a plethora of harmonious new tastes! as we descended the stairs, we were met with many gracious bows from our hosts, a welcome change from the too-familiar uber-hip restaurant staff brush-off one can encounter in our little hamlet (i'm not hatin', i'm just sayin'...). places like zenkichi definitely heighten my enjoyment of where we live.

as for tonight, the word on the street is that shoop is in town with his lady! hooray! hopefully we will get to hear the lovely sounds of rosie thomas (aka shoop's lady) and hang with our delight of a friend.

the hair that beat me

it started out like any other job. i received the call sheet, which provided me the following answers to my questions of how many people are we talking here? what all will we need to do?

24 models.
4 makeup artists (to do makeup and hair).
two assistants.
one makeup artist doing just body makeup.
one photographer shooting for PR things, one shooting for web. plus some models will be in a green room.

i received a call from the booker for the job. i asked if i needed to bring anything special and was told no. i asked what this was for and he told me "PR photos...billboards and the website...things like that".

i arrived with minutes to spare...we were told to make them look pretty and fresh, and that we were to have just twenty minutes to get each person ready and to work FAST.

fine. we got to work. i completed looks on three models and was working on my fourth when all hell broke loose.

"they need to look just like they looked yesterday" (yesterday? what the hell were they doing yesterday?)
"they need to be really stylized, edgy, and modern" (the complete opposite of the 'pretty and fresh' we just spent the last hour perfecting....and i HATE the term 'edgy')

one of the artists asked:
"do you have photos to show us of what they did yesterday?"

"no! just ask the models what they had! we don't have forty five minutes to find you pictures!" snapped some fat ass queen with a little dog.

(of course, i consulted with the eighteen year old girl from wisconsin who was sitting in my chair about her look, and she replied to me, "i dunno....i guess my eyes looked kind of black....")

great.

once we convinced the producers that we needed photos, they downloaded some to a laptop--candid shots from the day before, some from far away, some of people just hanging out....not the best of scenarios from which to replicate a hairstyle or makeup look.

and those with the most extensive, tricked-out, and, dare i say?, complicated styles seemed to gravitate towards me (or maybe it just felt that way).

i decided to be up for the challenge. after all, i can do "photoshoot hair": a million pins in the back and tons of spray. it needed to look good enough that they could work it from the front to almost profile.

the first girl who had sat in my chair (whom i had just spent twenty minutes curling into a fresh, tousled 'do) required a very sleek twist up into a mohawk with the ends sprayed out onto her forehead. i did my best. i determined that it was not my best work, but passable.

another girl slunk over towards me and....what was this?? oh no.

it seemed that yesterday her hair was styled with rats, these spongy things that one can put into one's hair to create the illusion of...well...more hair:


it seemed that yesterday, the hairstylist had pinned these rats all along the nape of her neck, and rolled the ends of her hair over them. this created a modern bettie page-ish look. she also had rolled bangs like this:


needless to say, these types of styles are not exactly my forte (and that's putting it mildly). i did the best i could. i pinned some rollers i had thrown into my bag underneath and brushed her hair over top of them to create the rolled illusion...i figured (though i never like to rely on retouching photos), that they would retouch the hell out of these and they only had to stay in as long as it took her to shoot the photo.

i went onto the set. my heart stopped, as i realized that by "green room", they didn't mean the typical "green room" (as in, waiting area....like on david letterman, when they refer to their guests as "waiting in the green room"). they meant, instead, "green screen".....which is a very different concept. a green screen is the backdrop to a video shoot, wherein the subject will do their thing, and later a background will be superimposed in, like this:



i was in some serious trouble. my "photoshoot hair", with it's hundreds of pins in the back, was not going to cut it. this model needed to be prepared to twist and turn, to strut and twirl, in front of that green screen.

so i started again. i removed my temporary "rat rollers". i curled. i pinned under. i thought it looked great.

i was asked to change it. they wanted it to look "exactly like yesterday....more 'fashion'" (which is a not-so-nice way of saying, "this looks cheesy and not as hip as when the other person did it"). i went back to the rollers. another artist helped me, but it still looked like crap. of course, everyone gathered around and had to throw in their three cents:

"it's too short"
"it's not even on the sides"
"it was fuller on top yesterday"
"the bangs are lopsided"

finally, it was passed along to yet another artist, who made it look perfect in about five seconds.

live and learn.

and that evening, my first in over a week where i could relax and not set my alarm, i marched post-haste to huckleberry bar, where i downed three harvey wallbangers and was consoled by a good friend.

checkin' in

i just realized that i haven't posted an entry since the infamous lemon lady! now that's just sad.

of course, my absence here is due to an overwhelming amount of work. since the job with the mysterious lemon lady, i have done makeup for:

-ms. leah siegel's music video, using stop-animation done by these amazing peeps. here's a sample of the director's work (and how cool is it that he loves daniel as much as i do?):



-a long-ass day at CSTV, the home for college sports (and bane of my existence),

-a photoshoot for "the sweet divines" , a new quartet of lovely ladies who sing in the style of a late sixties girl group and fancy their hair and makeup done in the same manner. hello, hairspray and liquid liner!

-more music video shooting

-and tomorrow: a shoot for tommy hilfiger kids, and then on wednesday: makeup for the finalists of a new reality show involving supermodels (or atleast supermodel wannabe's)...

whew! i'm exhausted just typing about it all!

the biscuit (whose eye is completely healed, by the way) has resorted to keeping me up at nights and giving me the brush-off when i return from work. it's really quite exhausting; bdub isn't half as demanding! i've never been in a relationship like this before! the guilt is enormous, but he is managing without me and resorting to snuggling under bdub's armpit when necessary.

the lure of the mysterious lemon lady

it should have been an easy enough shot to get, really: the story is about "teasing". two two-year-olds. kiddie model one, in the back, was to play the role of the teaser ("stick out your tongue!" "put your hands on your hips!" "shake your finger!"). kiddie model two, in the front, was to play the role of the wounded child.

a problem arose when it became clear that kiddie models one and two adored each other. it was simply not in one's nature to be mean to two. two couldn't stop flirting and grinning at one. we tried to throw in a stuffed lion for them to play tug of war...but they just hugged the lion and each other.

enter the mysterious lemon lady. the photographer, alexandra, prefers lemon in her tea. naturally, her loyal assistant, todd, purchased the cutest little lemon for her this morning on the way to the studio. being the artiste that he is, todd scribbled a face on the tiny lemon and gave it some fringed masking tape hair. we chuckled for a minute at the lemon lady. as we reviewed the shots we had so far, we showed the lemon lady to kiddie one.




one loooooved the lemon lady. she loved to hold her and breathe in her lemony scent. the lemon lady was irresistable.

and then it dawned on me: i would introduce the lemon lady to two.

of course, one wasn't giving up the lemon lady so easily. she first looked at two with confusion. "et tu?"

two clung to the precious lemon lady for dear life. he had her, and he wasn't giving her up without a fight.

we had our shot. the wails, the faces streaming with tears and flushed skin of pink. the grabbing, the crying. good people that we are (or atleast, we would like to think, not completely heartless), we couldn't take it any more. it was too upsetting. we took them off of the set and tried to console them with tangerines and apples that we had sitting around. but what to do with the lemon lady?

of course, we took the only logical course of action and we hid her. we reattached her hair and wiped her smeared face. i sat on the couch with one and showed her that her tangerine smelled and TASTED terrific-- much better than that sour old lemon! she seemed pleased. we colored. we were friends again. she changed her clothes and toddled off with her mom.

as i rose from the couch, much to my dismay, i discovered that i had sat in something wet. karma had literally gotten me in the ass. two people who happened to walk by the studio laughed at me as i blowdried my butt.

all in a day's work, i suppose.

the biscuit's got the crazy eye!

poor little biscuit. since friday evening, his left eye has been red and cloudy. we took him to the vet today (we saw dr. eisner, and dr. zamata popped in to say hello...no dr. mann this time) and, as much as it pains me to say so, the biscuit was not very well-behaved. he wasn't having it with the eye stain, and thrashed and wailed like an alien banshee. he was rather out of control, and i don't think dr. eisner was amused (but you know what? bdub and i weren't very amused with her either, so there) .

as for the diagnosis, they really aren't sure why there is inflammation and redness. he doesn't have a scratched cornea, though, which is a relief. now we must administer two kinds of drops as well as some chinese herbal medicine to the biscuit three times a day. we check back on thursday with them, so i'll post an update then.

my daily outrage...and maybe a little enlightenment?

this article made me cry:

"Is the 'Mom Job' Really Necessary?"

apologies if you need to register for the ny times online and are unable to read it...allow me to summarize:

we now live in an age where, after months (or maybe years?) of trying to conceive, of breastfeeding until our nipples are sore (i speak hypothetically- of course, i have never breastfed, though i did once have a dream that i was breastfeeding and it freaked me right out. but i digress....), of working one's ass off on little to no sleep to tend to another human being's every need and desire...we are now to feel like an "abnormality" for having--dare i say?- saggy boobs and paunchy stomachs. the horror!

no worries, though. lucky for us, the "mommy makeover" (a procedure combining a tummy tuck, breat lift/implants, and lipo) is now available for women whose bodies have been "ravaged" by motherhood.

from the article:
“Twenty years ago, a woman did not think she could do something about it and she covered up with discreet clothing,” Dr. Stoker said. “But now women don’t have to go on feeling self-conscious or resentful about their appearance.”

In 1970, “Our Bodies, Ourselves,” the seminal guide to women’s health, described the cosmetic changes that can happen during and after pregnancy simply as phenomena. But now narrowing beauty norms are recasting the transformations of motherhood as stigma.

here's another zinger from the article:

"There is more pressure on mothers today to look young and sexy than on previous generations, she added. “I don’t think it was an issue for my mother; your husband loved you no matter what,” said Ms. Birkland, who recently remarried.

wow. just....wow.

i must be a relic, for i guess that i'm an idiot for believing that love is unconditional, atLEAST in terms of "babyweight". i mean, if i'm a big floozie and a constant nag, then i can see where love may wither and die. but not because i have a "paunch" and "deflated boobs", the last item being what cookie magazine describes as "the ultimate indignity".

"the ULTIMATE INDIGNITY"?? can they be serious? funny, because when phrases such as "the ultimate indignity" are thrown around, i think of rwanda, abu ghraib, somalia. saggy boobs (a result of providing one of nature's greatest miracles...life-sustaining nourishment) don't really pop up on my radar.

i think what i find the most disheartening is the scope of thinking, from these women, from their doctors, from the gossip rags and cookie magazine. i have been struggling a bit (or maybe a bit more than a bit) lately with the idea of aging...of feeling (knowing) that one is becoming physically less attractive, what with the gray hairs, the extra fluff around one's middle, the lines. feeling that i should be above this. that i know better. that, atleast, i am confident now, fully-realized (as if).

and sometimes, all i really wish is that i could go back to being twelve years old, pre-boobs and boys, and rediscover all that lies ahead (and know how to work it out), and let that girl know that she should always carry that confidence and desire in her heart.

because, despite what we try in good faith to believe--that we get better with age, that what we may lose in our youthful appearance we gain in confidence and wisdom, that we release these petty insecurities--i sometimes wonder if what is within us sits like a stone, or festers, or eventually grows like a cancer. that these negative messages and feelings become more of who we are rather than less. that they fill us up until we can't help but believe them, even if just a little bit.

i wish i could close on a more hopeful note, that i could think of things like compassion and freedom from attachments and other more buddhist thoughts that have been in my noggin, fighting the good fight (the unrelenting battle) against the message of the mommy makeover. perhaps i can instead focus on a program i saw about the buddhist mandala, a meditation aid that results from the practice of creating a beautiful sand painting.



the true beauty of the mandala is that it is destroyed upon completion. the hours, days, (weeks?) of tiring work swept away with little brooms, sifted into a vase and released (with flower petals) into a body of water. to free ourselves from attachments, however beautiful (or ugly), being the course to our enlightenment.

bookmarks--a memoir

i was organizing my bookmarks, and some of them are pretty funny. for example: "Ridding Your Home of Fleas" (self-explanatory) and "Ecure me: T Flava", from when bdub had mysterious red and white spots up and down his back. others conjur up memories i'd rather not revisit for too long, like "Pilling Cats" or "The Animal Legal Defense Fund: Winning the Case Against Cruelty" or "LA Daily News- Tahoe Blaze, Homes Evacuated" (...the fire is unrelenting...you are forced to evacuate your home...it's the stereo or your son's darth vader mask that he just got for his fourth birthday. you go for the mask. you're his father...you lose everything else but none of it matters, really...).

still others, such as "Small Space Entertaining" bring me back specifically to a time and place: our tiny apartment, last thanksgiving, eight people for dinner. it's chilly and raining, so we can't eat out on the patio. i want us to sit down and have a nice dinner together. after much deliberation, we flip up our mattress against the wall and cover the whole shebang with a white sheet. we put out card tables and borrowed chairs, make gingerbread martinis and drink champagne and eat roast turkey and seitan with a red wine and mushroom sauce (for the veggies) and stuff ourselves with pie and bread pudding.

"njtransit.com/pdf/bus" is the schedule of buses from new york to atlantic city. while bdub was on tour last winter-into-spring, the biscuit and i boarded a bus to atlantic city where we met my friend katie. we spent the weekend at katie's family's beach house with her and her st. bernard, gus.

the biscuit got sprayed by a skunk that was making his home underneath the back porch...as long as i live, i will never forget his soaking wet, tomato juice-pink mug as we bathed him to rid him of the stink. he was such a trooper, and katie didn't even mention how much the smell permeated the house, the towels, everything. she made tuna noodle casserole and we chilled with our dogs and got caught up on each others' lives. it was a great weekend.

there are even bookmarks that give me hope for the future, such as "Good Questions: How Small An Apartment Can You Have a Baby In?". an awkward sentence, to be sure, but a good question indeed. i've read it again and again, and it gives me hope to hear of people's babies all over the world sleeping in dresser drawers and salad bowls. i like that. it makes the future (*ahem*, the very distant future--not the near future, thankyouverymuch, mom) seem not so impossible.

september love...

my friend janice -aka "girlbomb"- pretty much rules. though i haven't seen her in ages, i occasionally check in on her via her blog. i found this post, a brief retelling of her and her husband's "how they met" story, to be particularly good:

"His personal ad said: 'I will be a good boyfriend. I will rub your feet, and tell you you're pretty, and put up with your shit'.
And I thought: Bingo."

i challenge you to find one woman who can't get behind that. the best part of the story, of course, is that the reward of her fella's precise way of summizing in 25 words or less exactly what EVERY WOMAN WANTS was the jackpot he hit in janice.

and to my love, here is what i love about you and the wonderful things that you have done for me and for us throughout this september:

-of course, like mr. girlbomb, rubbing my feet, telling me i'm pretty, and putting up with my shit.
-helping with my passport shenanigans
-your support with the big agency switchover of '07
-wading through the high waters of our patio during the flash flood
-seattle tokens of love
-fantastic anniversary surprises
-all of the arrangements you made in order to make my trip to europe as easy as possible with what you had to work with
-appreciating my skillz as your drum tech!
-making our trip so fun, and helping me to feel comfortable.