The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Yikes, 11 days since last post.  Clearly  I’ve slacked off for a little while with the blog.  My house, on the other hand, is looking much cleaner and I got a bunch of updates done on my website.  Everything’s a tradeoff, I guess.

Lots going on this past week.  SB left her first drops of blood on the pavement at Freedom Park.  Kurt and I celebrated three years of wedded bliss.  We all (and I mean “all” as in the whole population of Mecklenburg County)  celebrated another festive St. Patrick’s Day with a crazy long parade in Charlotte and a crazy crowded festival.  Oh, and I got diagnosed with a potentially debilitating disease.  So the week had its ups and downs, I guess you could say. 

Let’s start with the good news.  3 years!  On our wedding day, we had 5 bottles of wine, dated for each of the subsequent 5 years, for our guests to sign.  Each year on our Anniversary, we open up the year’s bottle and toast to our marital success.  Cheers to us! We celebrated at Fiamma (duh, of course) and had a wonderful meal, just the three of us.  Yes, SB joined us for our anniversary dinner.  She loves the pesto there so how could we leave her at home? 

Also in the “good” column:  St Patrick’s Day.  Holy cow was the weather perfect on Saturday.  My parents came down for the celebration and were duly impressed by the 100+  minutes of Irish entertainment that marched down Tryon Street.  Ok, so the Irish origins of certain participants may have been questionable.  Like the African-American Cowboys, for example.  Or the Charlotte Roller Girls.  But they were so cool I don’t think St. Patrick would mind.  There were legitimate Catholic school floats with kids, snakes, and St. Pat himself blessing the crowd.  The Budweiser Clydesdales were there, complete with Dalmatian riding on the horse-drawn truck.  There were also scantily clad women in tiny kilts.  Giant Great Danes (hmmm…”Dane,” not Irish either) wearing green top hats and tutus.  Weird clowns riding unicycles.  Something for everyone at the Charlotte St Pat’s Day Parade.  SB had not been feeling well the day before, but she rallied for the parade, sporting her “Irish Princess” dress and green hair bow.  (I realize that this would be a great place to insert a picture of said outfit, but I am a bad photographer and didn’t bring my camera.  By the time we got home we were exhausted and Mommy discovered that SB had passed along her germs and I was out for the count for the rest of the weekend.  So that’s my long-winded excuse.)

So moving on to the bad news.  First catastrophe:  SB’s face meets concrete at Freedom Park.  I was in the middle of a photo shoot when I got a call from Kurt.  Then I got a second call.  I figured that was not good so I answered, and sure enough, Kurt had taken SB to the park and she took off running down a sloped walkway and hit the ground with her face.  She usually will catch herself but this time the ground beat her to it.  Poor thing had road rash on her face, a bloody nose, split lip, and she chipped her tooth a little bit.  Kurt said she cried for about 30 seconds and moved on.  No lasting scars a week later.  Kurt, however, is still recovering, and he is definitely scarred for life.

And the piece du resistance in the bad news column…

I know I’ve complained on the blog at least a few times about how lugging around a heavy baby is killing me.  I’ve had some joint swelling in a few fingers and some foot problems which I attributed to carrying huge baby and walking around on hardwoods in bare feet.  So this has been going on for about 6 months and I finally started seeing some doctors.  Today my rheumatologist informed me he was 99.99 percent sure that I had Rheumatoid Arthritis.  Great.  Just Great.  Isn’t that a disease that elderly ladies have that turns twists their hands into deformed knots?  Um, yeah that would be the one.  Seriously, I am probably still in denial about this even though the “RA” term has been kicking around my head since I first noticed the joint issues.  So the good news, if you can call it that, is that I caught it in the earliest stages and they can put me on meds to help with the symptoms and prevent permanent joint damage (aka the twisted old lady hands.)  But the bad news is they want to put me on medication for the rest of my life.  That does not sit well with me.  I’d have to be tested every 2 months to make sure the drugs aren’t wrecking my liver.  And I absolutely under no circumstances can get knocked up while on this medication or the baby would have like 3 heads or something.   Oh and it suppresses the immune system so I’d be more prone to infections.  Wow, this is sounding great, isn’t it?  So needless to say we’re not rushing over to the pharmacy to fill this prescription until I do a little more research on my options.  I’ve never ever had a real deal health problem before, so this whole thing of doctors and medications and tests is new to me.  The doctor I’m seeing currently is not the least bit into a more holistic approach to the disease.  I asked about diet and he basically shrugged his shoulders, so I am looking for someone who will not just write a prescription, but look at things like nutrition and exercise other natural ways to treat the patient, not just treat the disease.   Overall, not a great day, I’d say.  But when I got back from the doctor’s office my little girl was delighted to see me and play patty cake with her Mommy’s hands, regardless of what they look like, so I know I’ll be ok, I just need to find the right path for me to take.

Goose Playing Chicken Causes Mayhem

Today as we were leaving Little Otter Swim School we witnessed a car accident.  I was at a stop sign waiting to turn onto a busy 4 lane road, when I noticed two obnoxious geese (as if there is any other kind) walking along the grass by the road.  Of course they waddle off the curb right into the middle of both lanes.  This sassy red Pontiac convertible screeches to a halt and someone following too closely plows their Honda right into the back of it.  Goose walks off unscathed.  Apparently his work was done here.  Off to take a dump on the sidewalk, I suppose.  What they do best. 

First of all, if it were me barreling down the road at 50 MPH heading for a goose, I would most certainly have been picking goose feathers out of my grill rather than standing in the road arguing with the lady that just wailed into my car.  I confess that I also would have gotten some secret pleasure out of creaming one of those bastard fowls that use the world as their outhouse.  I am so sick of going to the park and having to maneuver myself and a stroller through a minefield of poop.  Forget about letting SB roam free - she's a collector, remember?  That's not something I'd want her to hoard in her little fists.  She'd end up with bird flu or e coli...I hate those feathery beasts.  They sneer at me as I walk around the lake, like, yeah I poop on your sidewalk, whaddayagonnadoaboutit?  Man, I'd love to drop-kick one of those sons of...well, I think I have properly conveyed my feelings towards Canadian Geese.  So imagine my shock that this guy in his sports car missed the opportunity to remove one of them from the planet. 

Go ahead, PETA, burn a goose down comforter on my front lawn for this post.  I don't care.  Spend twenty minutes picking goose poo out of your sneaker treads every time you go to the park and see whose side you're on then.

{Please note that no one, including those dang geese, were injured in this accident but it probably caused several thousand dollars worth of damage to both cars.  That's a lot of money for a stupid bird.}

Baaaa Moooo Cockadoodledon't.

Why did I think this would be a good idea?

SB and I were at Bedford Falls toy store the other day where those sneaky bastards have big tables in the back with all these toys out for kids to play with.  SB made a beeline for this puzzle.  Well not this one exactly it was the trains, planes and automobiles version.  You put the puzzle piece in and it makes the sound.  Awesome.  She loved it.  She doesn't own a puzzle.  It was only $12.99.  She should have it, right? 

I pick out the farm animal one and take it home with us.  Big mistake.  First of all it doesn't come with batteries.  Grrr.  It requires 2 "AAA" batteries.  And the battery compartment is screwed on so Kurt has to find a phillips head screwdriver, not to mention 2 batteries, to get this thing rolling.  Well wouldn't you know it, the animal version sounds like a farm hit by mad cow disease living inside a tin can.  It is AW-FUL.  It does not have an OFF switch.  And the best part is, you don't have to get the puzzle pieces in the correct way to make noise. Oh no. You don't have to get them in at all.  You just pass the piece over it and it starts moo-ing or crowing or whatever.  Your hand works too.  Or nothing.  Apparently it's tripped by light, or lack of light.  So last night it was sitting on the piano with some pieces missing (lost under the couch already) and the dang thing starts baa-ing at us for no apparent reason.  Kurt and I look at each other like what the @#^$ is going on?  We already had a smoke detector malfunction that night and start talking to us, and we had just watched a scary movie so it was all a little too much.  Needless to say I think the Sound Puzzle is going to lose it's batteries pretty soon...

Celebrity Sighting

So I'm out running errands with SB this morning, thinking I look all cute and trendy in my cute new skinny jeans and sassy purple top from Anthropologie.  Then I run into drop-dead gorgeous Angie Harmon at Target in her (much skinnier) jeans and sassier top, and suddenly I don't feel quite as cute and trendy anymore.  Dang you, Angie Harmon! 

Well actually I shouldn't say that because I thought it was pretty cool that she was digging through the cheapo toy bins at front of the store with two of her little girls looking for Dora accessories.  (I know this not because I was stalking her but because I was standing there for like 5 minutes wiping down the cart with the complimentary anti-germ towelettes more thoroughly than a haz-mat team before I put SB in the seat.  People are dropping like flies all over this town from flu and stomach bug ailments and we're not going to be victims of disease.)  Anyway, props to you Angie for shopping like "real" people do.  Even if you do negatively impact my self-esteem.

In a side note:  why, Target, do you not sell chocolate chip morsels?  You have 84 different varieties of marshmallows but not one measly bag of chocolate chips?  How's a mommy supposed to bake cookies without them?  Is it a conspiracy to force us into buying crappy store-bought cookies?  Annoying.  And no, it does not escape me that Angie Harmon likely does not bitch about missing chocolate chips at Target which is why she can fit into her much skinnier jeans.  Dang it.

Stuff you never think about when you are blinded by love in the window of a home furnishings store...

A few years ago, when I bought our current house, I fell in love with some beautiful plates at Z gallerie.  Pretty. square. sassy, seafoam-green plates.  And my wonderful parents bought me a set for Christmas.  I loved them.  They were so funky and didn't you hear that square plates actually make you lose weight because you eat less?

Well, soon I found out why God did not intend for us to have square plates.  You knock those dumb corners into everything - the cabinet, the dishwasher, the sink, the granite countertops...it's impossible to put them away without chipping one.  I have dents in my cabinet interiors and a few chips in the granite courtesy of these demon plates.  Oh and the plates fared much worse then the granite.  Half of them had major chips in them, so much so that we'd have to whip out the fancy plates whenever company came for dinner because we couldn't assemble a set of four without major crackage.  Another thing, microwaves were built for round plates.  The square dinner plate was too big and clunked on the door with every rotation so whenever we heated something up we'd hear THUMP....THUMP...THUMP...above the regular whirring microwave sounds.  Third problem was the bowls.  Square bowls.  Ever try mixing something up in a square?  Like Oatmeal for instance.  Stuff gets hung up in the corners. I resorted to beating eggs in a mug because the square bowls just didn't work at all with a whisk.


Anyway, Kurt finally said one day  "I work too hard all day to have to eat off of chipped plates" or some revelation like that.  So now, the infamous plates are half in the trash and half (the good half) in a box on its way to Goodwill.  I did feel a little bit like a hoarder though...thinking, "well I could keep those plates and use them in a mosaic art project someday." Right.  Like that'll ever happen.  I have adopted the mantra if "someday" isn't in the next few weeks, then it needs to go.  So bye-bye square plates.  I will miss your funkiness, but you have been replaced by standard round, white dinnerware from Ikea.  Sometimes it doesn't pay to be different.

Back in the Blog

Long time no blog, right?  I took a little vacation over the holidays from my computer...well I still checked email and facebook on my iPhone of course. I'm not Laura Ingalls on the prairie for crying out loud.  I was getting some serious carpal tunnel from all my typing and photoshop work so it was a nice break.  But I'm back and even better equipped to serve my photography clients since Kurt got me and awesome Wacom Tablet for Christmas.  It is the coolest.thing.ever.  It's a step away from being Tom Cruise in Minority Report, whipping around those computer screens in the air with his fingertips.  Ok, well maybe it's not that advanced, but it is awesome.  It's a wireless pen that you use instead of a mouse but it is so sensitive it's like a paintbrush or an artist's pencil.  I can literally draw in photoshop.  Smooth lines, amazing accuracy.  It's a thing of beauty. And I think it will save my left hand from shriveling up and dying right on the end of my arm.  (I'm a lefty.)  So thanks Kurtie Claus for the new toy.  I love it. 
I had an awesome newborn shoot last weekend.  No it did not make me want to have another one, although he was super-adorable.  (See for yourself here)  It reminded me just how tiny and helpless Little Miss Independent was just 18 months ago.  Now she is running down the hallways, hollering, playing the piano, using a fork to feed herself enchiladas, and voicing her very strong opinion about everything.  She is such a riot.  Grandma and Grandpa picked out the best toys for our little girl this Christmas.  Musical instruments, a set of play groceries...my living room looks like the trashed hotel room of a preschool rock band.  The xylophone is a huge hit.  Even more popular is the xylophone mallet.  She takes it everywhere.  Fortunately it's lightweight plastic.  Otherwise, we'd all be walking around with dents in our foreheads.  Not to mention the furniture.
So I hate to cut this short but I've got to get to bed at a decent hour tonight.  SB has woken up at 5AM the past two nights and partied 'til about 6:30.  Mommy is tired.  Tomorrow's post...why square plates are evil.

Random thoughts

I love emptying my pockets at the end of the day of all the objects SB bestowed upon me:  pebbles, tiny pieces of paper, puffs, crumbled leaves, acorn tops...it makes me smile that she finds me worthy of such treasures.


We finally started brushing her wild hair and she now will take the brush and try it on me.  Yes, she may use the wrong side of the brush, and she has given me a few good whacks in the head, but it's awful cute playing beauty salon with her.

I feel guilty that I haven't come up with some stupendous idea for Kurt's Christmas present.  He wants "nothing" so I got crafty instead and it's not turning out as well as I'd hoped.  First of all, it's difficult to find time to work on my project between baby time and him lurking around all the time.  I'm almost done but I guarantee I will be blowing on glue to dry tonight at 12:30AM.  There is glitter too.  Glitter is highly underrated.  He keeps finding it in my hair and thinks I am dressing up as a stripper for him this Christmas.  Um no.  Maybe for Kurt's birthday. Not for the birthday of our Lord and Savior.  That would be wrong.

We tried crayons for the first time today. She liked pounding them into the paper in pointillist fashion.  Very Seurat.  We'll continue to cultivate her artistic talents.  Her piano lessons are progressing nicely.  I was brushing my teeth the other morning and heard a perfect C chord from the living room.  She's got skills.  Kurt heard it too and thought it was me. Move over, Jackie Evancho, our girl can sing AND accompany herself.

I am procrastinating right now.  I have a zillion things to do.  So, perfect time to sit down and blog, right?  I need to go fix Kurt some lunch.  He actually ventured to the mall this morning (2 days before Christmas!) to look for a jacket for me.  Now he's started his conference call marathon for the day. Again...guilt over my lame Christmas presents this year so I better go and at least feed the poor guy...

Jiffy Pop

The other day Kurt and I were reminiscing about Jiffy Pop. You remember, the popcorn you cooked on the stove top by shaking it back and forth with the little metal handle.  As kids, we watched with excitement as the foil expanded larger and larger until you were sure it was going to explode all over the kitchen releasing its popcorny goodness with a BANG.  Now those were some fun times.  No microwaves floating through those kernels.

I was at the store yesterday and decided to look for a Jiffy Pop to indulge our nostalgia.  There it was, sitting on the bottom shelf, hidden below the dozens of microwaveable versions.  Yippie it still exists!

So we get to the register and the sweet young girl checking me out picks up the Jiffy Pop and says, "oh this is neat.  But doesn't the handle get hot in the microwave?"

I explained to her the whole concept of shaking it on the stove top and no you don't actually put it in the microwave, that Jiffy Pop pre-dates the microwave.  She looked at me like I had three heads.

Ugh.  I am old.