July 2005 Archives

Change is in the air. Today I cut my hair the shortest it's ever been. Ever. Look!

(Thanks to Dri for the pictures.)

So short! So curly! So bouncy! I think I can even rightfully claim, so cute! It's hard to get used to the feel of hair brushing against the back of my neck, of air moving along the tops of my shoulders. It doesn't even all go up into a ponytail (though the back does). Two ponytails would probably work (and look even cuter).

I've been thinking about this bold and daring move (well, bold and daring for me, the queen of the never-changing hairstyle) for the last couple weeks. There was much to recommend a change: for one thing, half my hair (no joke) has fallen out since I gave birth to Isaac (an irritating, but fortunately, temporary side-effect of pregnancy) and what was left was getting simultaneously limp and frizzy; for another, the baby has been grabbing my hair, and long hair is an easier target than short so I was always putting it up anyway; for yet another, it was just damn well time for things to get shaken up a little in my own personal style (stay tuned...next week I will probably get new glasses...I'm on fi-yah!).

Now mind you, I'm still a fan of long hair, and I intend to grow it back out. But a change is good. I feel all excited and bouncy. I can use a little fun.

(Huh. Did anyone notice that I'm wearing the same shirt in both hair pictures? Coincidence? Or is there some deeper meaning here? Beats me.)

Spurred by a generous gift of new music from my friend Ian (who really should be a DJ), I just spent hours and hours of precious non-kid time over the last few nights fooling around with my iPod (and iTunes)--loading music on, taking music off, renaming tracks, remixing the iPod playlist, cursing the fact that I can fit "only" about 850 songs on there, downloading individual songs from the iTunes music store (really annoying interface, I have to say) with the intention of making a "Best of" mix, etc etc. And I could easily blow a few more hours doing this (I haven't yet finished the mix, for example.)

I'm beginning to suspect a massive case of novel-avoidance/writer's procrastination. (Atchoo!) Watch out you don't get infected.

The chiclet is back! The chiclet is back! Actually, the chiclet was returned to me yesterday (yes, folks, that's a 3 day turnaround. I have to hand it to Apple, that was MIGHTY fast) but I was too pooped to blog last night. I wrote about 3 sentences more on the essay entry I've been trying to finish and then decided I'd rather just spend my valuable time f***ing around on the Elfquest website. Nostalgia? Inertia? Procrastination? I honestly don't know what posessed me. And tonight it is still about a gazwillion degrees outside and after a day full of blasting heat (my car thermometer said it was 108 degrees in downtown San Rafael at 3pm today. Seriously) I am just in no mood to actually, you know, think. I can barely drag my ass to the freezer for another popsicle.

Anyway. Back to the chiclet. The coolest part of this whole sending-the-beloved-computer-off-to-be-repaired thing (other than the unexpectedly rapid turnaround on the repair, and the fact that it was all free because I have 3 year Applecare, yay me!) was that Apple not only replaced my failing hard drive, at my request, but also while they were at it, they replaced my keyboard. (For those keeping track at home, I'd already had the keyboard replaced once because most of the letters wore off the keys, and they'd already worn off again but I'd given up. Good thing I'm a touch typist.) Apparently I was not the only one to have had the "vanishing letters" experience, but I'm glad that they replaced it proactively (I didn't have to specifically request it)--given that it was their own bad design that caused it, this pretty much amounts to an owning up to the problem, which I approve of. And they must have found something wonky with my CD-ROM drive, because they replaced that too. Again. (I'd already had them fix it once, I seem to recall. Wonder if this was another one of those quiet "replace a known problem before it happens" things, or just a coincidence?)

There are still a bunch of little adjustments that need to be made, mostly involving restoration of data from my now defunct hard drive as well as making the leap to the Tiger OS (well hey, as long as I'm at it...). But I'm a happy chiclet mama. Who knows, maybe by tomorrow I'll be back up to speed.

On a final note, I have to say it was an interesting couple of evenings sans-chiclet. With no photos to process, blog to update, novel to (supposedly) write, or any of a bunch of other projects to work on, there wasn't much to do but read. (It still really never occurs to me to watch TV. I'm just increasingly out of touch with that entire medium.) I did use Josh's computer one night, just to do a bit of web browsing, but mostly I read, and even went to bed relatively on time. Once.

Speaking of which...

...but I just had to say that I seem to have done nectarines wrong when I posted so glowingly about peaches the other day, to the neglect of the equally praiseworthy nectarine. I had one sitting innocently on my desk earlier, minding its own fruity business while I workworkworked away, and it smelled so divine (even from a distance) that I finally couldn't take it anymore and had to fall upon it and eat it. And woah. What a summer fruit treat that was.

So let me set the record straight. Nectarines: also the fruit of the gods, also summer in a (non-fuzzy) package. Yum.

I've started another chunky blog essay, but haven't had the time or the will to finish yet. And as of tomorrow, my chiclet is once again being ripped away from me and sent off to Apple (this time to replace an ailing hard drive), so I don't know when I'll get to finish it.

Oh, my dear chiclet, what will I do without you? The horror! I hope it's as short a separation as last time--I'm actually *not* sure what I'll do without it, since most of my hobbies and downtime occupations center around the chiclet these days. And in some weird and clearly hostile twist of fate, Josh has to send his Powerbook in too, so I won't even be able to borrow his work computer like I did last time. I think I hear a message from the Universe, and it goes something like this: "GO TO BED ON TIME, YOU STUPID GIT." Ahem.

Speaking of sleep deprivation, may I just say for the record that I'm really running ragged these days? I'm starting to understand now where all this stereotypical marketing stuff that you see around Mother's Day ("give Mom that well-deserved break she's been wanting, buy her xyz" or "pamper Mom with a relaxing spa treatment") comes from. The baby has been waking up twice a night, so I never get more than 3 or 4 hours unbroken sleep; work's in extra busy mode, no wiggle room there for life admin or even mental breaks; juggling two kids and accompanying family logistics is still somewhat new and therefore requires extra energy and attention; and even the goddamn novel, which I was just starting to think I might have the bandwidth to buckle down on again, has sadistically revealed in all its glory another huge plot hole, which has sucked all the joy out of Mudville and left everything in my creative bits, well, muddy. So I'm feeling a bit, shall we say, overwhelmed and underinspired. At least Josh isn't leaving on another trip for another, um, week and a half.

So yeah, unless I can arm-wrestle Josh for access to the single laptop that will be all we have here, or find the time to surreptitiously squeeze something out at work--you know, on a break (and Mr. Bossman, if you're reading this, of COURSE I would never waste company time doing anything as frivolous and clearly non-work related as blogging)--I won't be blogging for a few days. But maybe if I do get that extra sleep I'll feel perky enough to write that next long entry when I do get the chiclet back. A girl can dream (and, apparently, delude herself for long periods of time).

Tired. Want to write. Eyes are burning, shoulders are knotted. Want to write. It's still so hot in this house from a day full of 98 degree weather, and having a toasty warm laptop on my legs isn't helping. Want to write. Brain. Is slowing. Down. Want to...write?

Aw screw it, I'll just lie on the couch and eat a couple popsicles and read blogs until I fall asleep. Now that's a wild start to the weekend.

It's finally quiet here tonight, both inside my head and outside it. After a long day of single-parenting wrangling and paid work and then more single-parenting wrangling, both kids are asleep in bed, and I'm left here on the couch with a whole hour (!) to spare before I once again quixotically attempt to goddamn go to bed on time for once. It's juuuuust finally getting dark now at a few minutes past 9pm, and the temperature is still somewhere in the 70's, I'd bet (it was a roasting day today--after weeks of anemic summer weather, all of a sudden we're back in the fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk game). All the screen doors and windows are open, and I can hear the sound of people playing around at some healthy outdoorsy sportsy thing in the field just in back of our house, as well as the occasional airplane buzzing overhead. But the rest is blessedly quiet and still, the earth exhaling the last of its heat before things settle down for the switch to night time.

So today seems like an appropriate day to talk about summer fruit, a topic I've been rolling around in the back of my brain for the last few months. Now first off, let me say that summer fruit is one of the main reasons why I like this season (another major one being that even after years of being out of school, I still feel like the summer is when I get more time to play, even though sadly that's not really true anymore). Yeah, the weather is nice (I do prefer the sunshine to the rain, generally) and having extra hours of daylight is good too, but really, its alllllll about the summer fruit for me. Peaches. Strawberries. Cherries. Nectarines. Blueberries. (Even heirloom tomatoes, which technically do count as fruit, not vegetables, thankyouverymuch.) Oh sweet heavens, I love them. Especially the peaches. Peaches are special to my heart (and, of course, my mouth).

For me, a truly great peach is right up there near the lead on my list of top favorite foods/foodie experiences ever. (I think I've mentioned some of my other food indulgences before...but this is a different, and healthier one.) I can eat at least 3 or 4 a day, if they're good. The best ones are intensely peachy smelling, and not too fuzzy on the outside (even before washing), with a soft, not crispy orange and yellow skin, and dense, juicy flesh underneath. (Isaac the humongonaut plumpy baby is a lot like a good peach, come to think of it...) I prefer yellow peaches to white ones (I like that extra tartness), and freestone ones to cling. Huge is good too, maybe even the size of two fists together. (Although believe me, if I could get a good one in a James-and-the-Giant-Peach size, I'd eat myself sick.) Bonus points if I can get one that fits all these criteria AND is organic, although that seems harder to do. Oh man. I want one now. Be right back.

Ok (she says, wiping her sticky fingers off before resuming typing again), that one was decent but not great. As the season gets into full swing, I become pickier--what would have delighted me and practically brought tears of joy to my eyes in the middle of January becomes merely humdrum tastiness in mid-July, the fruity equivalent of, say, a decently cooked hamburger (or turkey burger in my case). I have GOT to get off my overwhelmed ass and get to the farmer's market this weekend--I am going to be pissed if this summer fruit season slips by without me truly experiencing peachy nirvana at least once. At least once, I want to gorge myself on as many perfectly delicious peaches as I want.

Summer fruit, and especially peaches, is one of those few remaining things that is still truly seasonal, in this day and age of everything-available-all-the-time-to-the-spoiled-American-consumer. (I'm sorry, but those Chilean peaches they sell in the winter here? Not. Even. Worthy. I mean really. Feh. And winter strawberries or tomatoes? Nice on the outside, worthless on the inside.) As such, every time I eat a peach (or other summer fruity goodness), I not only get a happy mouth, I also get one of those nostalgic pleasure hits brought on by another successful enactment of repetitive ritual that I'm so fond of in all aspects of my life. This peach now reminds me of last year's peaches, and of the peaches of my childhood, and of the peaches I had (or didn't have) in every place I ever lived. It makes me fondly anticipate next year's peaches, as well as reminding me of all the other fun things (yes, in addition to eating) that did/will take place during the summers I've already seen or have yet to see. So a peach is a trigger for me--summer in a round, faintly fuzzy package.

Given the above, I want to end with a quick reminiscence that took place a few months ago, in May, to be exact. On a Tuesday, my Mom's traditional day to come watch the kid(s). I was still on maternity leave so I was home too. We decided to go for a drive somewhere so that both kids might get a nap in, so for no particular reason we decided to drive up to Sebastopol and get some homemade ice cream at Screamin' Mimi's. Well, while we were there Eli had to go potty, so we zipped over to Whole Foods, which was located conveniently nearby. On the way in to the store, I noticed that they had put out a display of peaches (and other summer fruit like plums and nectarines...but really it was all about the peaches). They were the first ones I'd really seen this year, and they smelled pretty good. I was excited and pointed them out to Eli, and he got excited because I was excited, and to make a relatively long and rambly reminiscence shorter, we bought a couple and tried them. They were pretty decent, for May peaches, as I recall. But the fond memory part for me was sitting on a bench with my kid, both of us with a peach in hand, and toasting each other and the "first peach of the season!" by gently bonking our peaches together before eating them, dare I say, almost reverently. And of course, being the nostalgia/memory junkie I've become lately, I took a picture:

Happy summer, everyone!

A couple of brief smorgasblog thoughts is about all I can manage tonight, but still better than nothing.

1) I added a site counter to my site. Why? Because I could (and because there were easy instructions for total duh-heads like me). Now I will know for sure just how many hundreds and hundreds of lurkers are out there slurping up my every run-on sentence. Uh-huh. Ok, you five faithful readers, stop laughing.

2) I found a couple new blogs I adore: first, there are not enough glowy adjectives to describe the delightfully hilarious Tomato Nation (thanks Dri!). I scared the baby, who was nursing at the time I was reading it, because I was shaking with laughter. Dri also turned me onto Knotty Yarn, a personal blog by her friend Danielle who lives up in Alaska. (How can you NOT write a great personal blog when you live in Alaska? I'm just sayin'...great source material.) Then, there's the always thoughtful and often funny and unexpectedly poignant Waiter Rant, which The Attorney Wrangler turned me on to. Next, a couple I found by wandering around the links on Waiter Rant: Clublife (a terrifically written and endlessly fascinating blog about a bouncer in a Manhattan nightclub--the ex-sociologist in me LOVES this guy), The Gas Guy (a fabulous writer and modern-day philospher finding inspiration in a most unexpected, "Clerks"-like place), and The Family Man (a nicely written personal blog from a dad of two young boys). Truly there is some quality programming out there, folks. I could blogovate all day.

3) Josh is at Comic-con (what Dri calls "the nerd prom"). I'm not. I'm pretty sure that this sucks, but I'm trying to make the best of it. Hopefully I'll at least wind up with some good new reading material out of all this. But I miss "my people".

4) Holy crap it's way past my bedtime, again, and I've got to quit fooling around and go to bed or I will RUUUUUUUUEEEEE the day tomorrow. In fact I think I already have a whole bucket full of rue stored up waiting for me. Sigh.

I'm pretty sure no one has really missed me (you know, with that prickly sort of longing you only get when you're jonesin' for some interminable run-on sentences and parenthetical asides). But I've been missing this outlet, so back in the babbling saddle I am.

I have many blog topics stacked up in the back of my brain, thoughtful and occasionally nostalgic essays waiting to be written on summer fruit, old friends, fireworks, the role of ritual in my life, parenting kid #2, hostessing, the writing process/Madam Muse, and of course that old favorite, whale cheese. (Go on, Google "whale cheese"...would you believe there are already 5 pages of links? The mind boggles. Or should I say, the mind Googles. Anyway.) But I also have a head cold, no doubt brought on by the problematic cocktail of too much to do, too little sleep, and being around too many random people over a holiday weekend.

So once again I will break my promise to write a long, interesting blog entry "soon." On the plus side of the ledger though, getting some sleep is probably a good first step towards actually writing something one of these days. At least now I have a list I can reference.

In apology for not getting my shit together to write something good, I'll offer several thousand words of pictures:

^ Stars and stripes, little brother and big brother.

^ The rare and elusive mama-and-baby photo.

^ Eli on the ferris wheel at the Marin County Fair.

^ More cute brotherly love. I adore the mood of this shot, even though it's blurrier than I wanted.