Chipped Nails and All

January 31, 2011

In an effort to spice things up in my life, I’ve decided to paint my nails. Far less drastic than a tattoo or new hair color, but still it is something. I used to shy away from nail color because it would chip and I never felt like I got that blush paint off my fingers.

Now I wear that deep wine color, shades of gray, and this week Little Brown Dress. I once chose a gray based on its name, Smoking Hot. With the polish nearly dry, I received a compliment from a 24 year old.

It took me a little bit of time to adjust to the polish on my normally bland nails but now I am not as distracted by the color specks in my peripheral vision. Today four fingers are completely painted, three are mildly chipped and the remained are in worse shape. Even if I attempt to remove the polish myself I always feel like I leave a trace of color on the edges. So at this stage with polish approaching a week old, I must decide if the color should stay or go. Five less than perfect nails should be my tipping point.

And so I bid adieu from the dustbowl of my apartment to the bathroom to remove my little brown dress of color.

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I Want One!

January 29, 2011

Look at this cool bike with a kid attachment. That’s the Zigo and the company is giving away three new bikes. And I get three entries into the contest by blogging about it here.

I can’t remember how I first heard of the Zigo but last year I entered another contest. I had to write a short essay on why I wanted one. The deadline was January 1st PST so after celebrating New Years Eve I returned home to polish my essay. After all one of my resolutions was to write more so it made sense to spend the first few hours of the new year entering a writing contest.

I wrote about biking with my dad, hanging with my kids, missing my mom, coping with my dad’s health issues and my big mouth which I would use to plug the Zigo. I did not win. A parent of a handicapped child in Australia won one bike which was okay. A New York family won as well which was less okay, but still fine in the end. I have my kids, my health and have somehow been managing to get from Point A to Point Z without the Zigo, although it would make things more convenient. But this new contest is not why I *should* win the Zigo, just about my entry. So wish me luck. And if I do win, you will definitely know.


Dusty Impatience

January 28, 2011

I’ve been talking about building a bathroom for the upper level of my apartment for so long that even I was sick of hearing about it. After meeting with nearly half a dozen architects, I was so unimpressed I assumed I’d meet with the next dozen parsing each one for an idea and then draw the plans on my own. Then I found a *fabulous* gay couple and hired them.

Picking out the tiles for a 5 by 7 bathroom is daunting. I’m not sure the last time you have gone to a tile place but the choices are overwhelming. My gay crew helped me actually make a decision after one day of visiting several tile shops, not an easy feat as I’ve been debating what type of drain to buy for at least a week.

The entire renovation process reminds me of my mom. We designed my downstairs bathroom after at least five trips to the tile stores. She loved decorating, remodeling, renovating and had definitive opinions that she would share even when unprompted. Perhaps this is why I do not trust my taste. And so I defer to my architects on everything.
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Naked vs Naked

January 25, 2011

The other afternoon my husband wooed me into having sex. Having been married for four years, and together for seven his version of seduction involves him stroking his penis and saying, I have something for you.

With this prompting I’m supposed to strip down and suck his cock. At least in my husband’s fantasy. If my lame excuses of headache, just showered, have my period, all dressed up, running late, not in the mood — all of which I’ve memorized and can recite in one breath — then we do it. Another seducing technique involves the location of the kids, this time they were playing nicely or watching television.

So with nominal objection from me, he pulled out my silver knee high boots with a three inch heel to wear. Ten minutes later the kids run into the bedroom laughing. My husband, for a reason still unknown to me, decides it is okay for the children to see me naked with metallic boots, but not him and runs to the bathroom. The kids, ages three and just shy of two do not ask questions of my appearance, just wonder where dad is. He shouts from the bathroom for them to listen to me, still shielding his nudity.

Not sure where the story goes, we finished up after I set the kids up in front of the tv, just a funny anecdote of a married mom of two trying to stay relevant.


Fingernail Fairy

January 18, 2011

The transformation of normal human being to a doting mom is rapid. I am no longer repulsed my poops or vomit and rather expect to find said stains on any given outfit. As a proud mother, I enjoy almost all things related to My daughter, even folding her miniature clothing. Some activities such as trimming her nails pose a challenge, but I nonetheless motherly duties call.

One night, my daughter was so content naked on her changing table. I gathered my nail clippers and began snipping away. Never had I been so successful and confident in trimming her delicate nails. She would not be able to scratch herself for weeks. Then, as I was about to remove the sharp corner of her index finger’s nail, she jerked. I snipped. There was blood. Perhaps I put her finger in my mouth, I don’t recall. Once the pain traveled through my daughter’s nervous system to her brain, her mouth fell agape. Her eyes squinted and her face turned a shade of red found only in lipsticks. She stayed frozen in this position as the pain registered.
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Just because I’m Wrong Doesn’t Mean you are Right

January 17, 2011

I’m loathe to admit that I made a poor choice, but when called out on it, I confessed to my friend that I did smoke a jay in the bathroom at the gallery hosting her lovely birthday party.
Mea Culpa.

I owned up to it and offered to cover the fine, which I later learned included mistakes by a caterer and was covered by the excess liquor and she subsequently refused.

This was the first party of hers that I brought my own joint, at every other function someone has shared one with me. This doesn’t dismiss my behavior. Nor does the fact that I did stop taking my medication and have not been acting like myself. It was not a reflection on her, just me.

If only I lived in a state where I could consume medicinal marijuana without inhaling.

The exchange ended with my friend, telling me via email and citing a stupid comment I made five years ago during a bridezilla moment that led to us not talking for a few years, this is a big deal and she wants to put our friendship on hiatus. “I need to prioritize and focus on some of the very important relationships in my life, and that means recognizing those in which there has always been mutual respect.”

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Don’t Try This At Home

January 16, 2011

Without considering the consequences, without consulting a professional, without enough thought I stopped taking a medication.

Two years ago this week my son was born. Two years and six weeks ago I lost my mommy.

While never verbalized, I kept thinking, you took the wrong parent. As if life were a chess game and I could will my opponent to take the knight. Save my queen. A girl needs her mom.

My sister and I would communicate this thought. An alternative loss, another person whose demise would have been more manageable. No less painful, just more manageable. But life does not give you that option.

Man Plans; G-d Laughs.

I know it is supposed to be hard. Aren’t I luckier having had a mom whose absence is so pronounced and devastating than recovering more quickly?

My Sister and I shared a secret satisfaction in discovering other people’s tragedies. John Travolta, Natasha Richardson and one’s within our community: cancer, wrong choices or bad luck, another family suffering reminded us life is equally unfair.
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