Baby Love

I had two days in a row off this week, something that hasn't happened for a while, so I tripped it out to Ortonville for some Mimi time.

She is staying with my parents while her parents are in Ethiopia going through court to acquire two more munchkins. We did our best to stay busy, but with the chilly, rainy, epically windy weather it was challenging. Our activities included baking...

karaoke...



playing puppy...



and a great deal of our time was spent with this little guy...



That is the cat formerly known as Toby. Due to a hilarious mispronunciation by the little one, we now call him Toady. My grandparents found him in their garage, and my parents got him by default.



The addition of Toady into the household meant that I spent most of my relaxing time off chasing my niece around the house saying "Don't squeeze, Mimi. Remember to be very gentle with Toby. He's just a little baby. Meron! Meron! Don't squeeze him!"

But Toady was far more patient about that then I was.

Holy overflow, Batman!

It started innocently enough. I thought I should spiff up the ol' place, what with having extended an open invitation of visitation to the whole of the metro area. I thought "I'll just fill the sink with soapy water and start scrubbing the kitchen, top to bottom." Well, a word or two of advice. If, while waiting for the sink to fill, you decide to put in a load of laundry, don't then think "I'll just fold these freshly dry clothes. And while I'm at it, I'll start cleaning the bathroom, too. And then I'll put all these other things away." If you do this, you will return to a kitchen sink that looks not unlike a giant, microwaved marshmallow.

You know. Like this:


The Boy Wonder looks pretty concerned about all those soapy enemies, doesn't he?

Art Crawling

I am feeling wicked uninspired. This is bad. It is especially bad because I am in the throes of preparing for the St. Paul Art Crawl. It's making me crazy insecure. This is the first time I've done something like this, and while it's not even a big deal (because anyone can sign up to do it), I am, after reviewing all of the photos on my computer, fairly confident that none of them is good enough to show to anyone, ever. Because it's one thing to show work to your friends and family. They have to be nice to you. It is an entirely different thing to show your work to strangers. And, well...balls.

This new found insecurity in my photography abilities was exacerbated by me making business cards, at the behest of my mother. So thanks for that, Mom. *wink

I have nothing to do but stare down the imminent failure heading my way. Oh, and also I have to mat and frame a bazillion photos. And thoroughly clean my whole apartment. And rearrange the furniture. And some other things. But other than that, nothing.

My framing/matting system could be improved. I am not really a naturally tidy or efficient person. For example...

That semi circle in the middle? That's where I sit...

And really, I'm probably worrying about nothing. All these visiting strangers I'm concerned about will probably just be two random people who are on their way out and happen to walk past my open door. At least, I kind of hope that will be the case...

fretfretfretfretfret

Faces

It would be fair to say I am obsessed with my own face. Actually, not only would it be fair to say, it would be a totally accurate statement. Mind you, when I say obsessed, it does not mean that I am overly fond of my face. I don't think it's an exceptional face or anything. I just mean that I can spend hours at a mirror practicing raising one eyebrow or trying to make my smile less crooked. This inexplicable fascination has resulted in an onslaught of extensive self-portrait photo shoots, often ending in ridiculousness such as this:




And, yes, I know the Velcro rollers are in upside down. I was experimenting.

Memories in 140 characters or less

So, Twitter has been having some issues with people's tweets displaying correctly. For example, in July, I went from having 65 tweets, to 35 tweets, to 17 tweets, to 10 tweets. Well, now I'm back at a solid 102. Mind you, I only have 10 followers, so I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who noticed. I was reading through them, and they made me laugh out loud. And they kind of broke my heart. Because, you see, lots of them are quotes and musings from my job at Seeds and they made me miss my kids so much more than I already do. I still think about those munchkins everyday.


Serious little Mateo. Chloe the diva. Mo the whiner. Slowpoke Eme. Brilliant Olive. Orin the Star Wars expert. Wild Mhina. There were some others before them that I got to say my goodbyes to. Huey, Kian, Cecil, Rosey, Makai, Ana, Henry. But I ache for the ones that I didn't get to hug goodbye. I didn't get to tell them what absolute pleasures and delights they were to take care of. Oh, I miss them.


When she fired me, did Chrys know what she was taking away from me? For not giving those kids, or myself, any closure? When you're one or two or three, the people at your daycare are a sizable portion of your acquaintances. What did those kids think when I just suddenly wasn't there anymore? Will I always cry when I think about them for more than a few moments?


I mean, I seem to have A LOT of emotional baggage about this (obviously, what with this whole thing being about six months in the past). Like, more than is normal, probably. But maybe not. I loved those kids. I still love them.


Another level of complication is added by the fact that Chrys and I were good friends. I mean, I thought we were (well, that was melodramatic). And there are some days when I want to see her and ask her "What the fuck were you thinking?" There are other days when I really just kind of want to be her friend again...because I miss her, too. But not enough to forgive her.


Perhaps what I need to do is to turn this heavy baggage into something else. Maybe I should just be grateful that I had these kids in my life for a couple years. I had the privilege of taking care of them, playing with them, kissing their owies, and holding them while they slept. That transition may be easier said than done. I think my baggage is lost at the airport right now.



Sigh. Sweet dreams, always, kiddos.

Weekend Part Two: Renaissance Festival

Ah, the Renaissance Festival. I freakin' love it. I am generally pretty selective about the things I will TOTALLY nerd out for, but the Renaissance Festival is way up on the list. Other things include "Doctor Who", The Dark Tower, and any show associated with Joss Whedon.

It is a funny thing, the Renaissance Festival. I mean, it makes the 15th century seem like such a lovely, carefree time. But then, I suppose that would be the bit where it's a "festival" comes into play. Also, every year, every damn year, I get lost on the way. I always end up taking a wrong turn somewhere. Sometimes I take the 101 and end up at Valley Fair. Sometimes I take the exit for Canterbury Road and end up by the race track. But I always go somewhere wrong first. I should just get "Stay on 169" tattooed on my arm or something. Luckily, we had a good early start, discount tickets from Super America, and a full tank of gas.

grapey goodness

We rolled in around half an hour after the gates opened, 9:30 or so, and did a lap before catching The Danger Committee's (juggling/knife-throwing) first show of the day. One of the performers puts on this accent that sounds exactly like Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. I don't even know where that accent is supposed to be from, but it's still pretty funny. And in breaking news, as I just now Googled this guy to make sure his accent was fake, I found out that The Danger Committee was recently well received on "America's Got Talent". Good for them.

Then we went to the longbow competition. It had potential, but was poorly executed. They had to have a lot of long, awkward breaks so they could count the arrows that had hit the targets and open the gate to let people in and out. But it did sort of make me want to take up archery anyway... My main complaint is that I was standing next to a lady that seemed to have some sort of plague.






Also, it was held very near the place merchants/performers park ye olde caravans...

Purple leggings!

Giant turkey legs always look better than they taste. It's the same every year; a little dry, a little tough, and all the very visible connective tissues freak me out...And I wonder what they do with the rest of the turkey.


I get excited about the hobbit hole every year. It's not even that impressive, but for the 14 seconds that it takes to walk through the little house, I can pretend that I live in the Shire. By the way, feel free to add The Lord of the Rings to the list of things that I can nerd out over.


We walked around a bit more, on an epic search for kettle corn, and by the time we found it, the place was getting a little crowded and some of us (all of us) were getting a little tired of crowds.
On our way out, around 1:30 or so, we had to pause by some tailgaters, who then accused us of being "wimps" for going home so early. But I wasn't really bothered. It was definitely nap time.

Weekend Part One: Courtesy of Luke and Talia

Due to an unfortunate combination of illnesses, my brother and sister-in-law had to give up their State Fair tickets. They kindly gave them up to me.


It was a lovely, cool evening, right around 5:30, when I picked up Em and we headed down good ol' 35W towards Roseville to find a place to Park and Ride. Em saw one and the resulting excitement nearly caused an emergency situation. Luckily, we merged off of the freeway unscathed, and into the parking lot of Broadway East & West. They offered free parking and a nice coach bus to the Fair.




As Em said "A footrest? Carpeted ceilings? What more could you want?"


Emily looked up at this and said "Hey! We're on TV!" Then she immediately apologised for making a terrible joke.


The Fair was like this. Everywhere.


We went in with some specific food-related goals. Our first stop was for fries. We opted for the regular size, as opposed to the "Barrel." They were amazing.


On our way to find cheese curds, we walked through the horse barn and met this fella. He's called Pinky.


On our way out of the horse barn, what should we find but these:


With our need for curds fulfilled, we continued towards the Midway, but didn't venture any closer than this.


We then, very inefficiently, went to the Dairy Building for a chocolate malt, walked through the International Bazaar, and then went back to the Midway to find the cream puff stand, after a quick call to Ortonville to ask for directions.

The sun set, and it was back to the parking lot to wait for bus.


Em suggested that we get a TARDIS so we could teleport back to my car, and I suggested that if we did indeed have one, we could actually just teleport it to my apartment, as opposed to teleporting to my car and then driving home.

The bus did come, so despite our lack of time-traveling spaceship, we made it back to Frodo, who was waiting faithfully right where we left him.


Coming soon- Weekend Part Two: Renaissance Festival

complaints

I know that I've only had this job for about two weeks. I know that a lot of people don't have jobs. And I know that I am lucky to have one that is, albeit slightly, related to something that I enjoy doing. But, nonetheless...this job sucks. I thought about not going public with this fact, lest I seem like an irritating little bitch-face, but in the interest of keeping this journal that is about me and my life and my thoughts, well, about those things, I'm doing it anyway. I don't want to pretend that I am excited anymore, because I'm just not. It's not that I'm ungrateful. It's that, apparently, I'm demanding, have high expectations of and am exceptionally picky about my job and the people with whom I work.

So, the novelty of being employed has worn off very quickly. It's not that I don't like or am resistant to work (by work I mean putting effort into things), it's just that I don't want to work at selling people shitty little picture frames and key chains. I would love to work at getting a beautiful photo of their kids or family that they can hang in their home. I would love to work at helping them design a baby book. But the "sell, sell, sell" mentality of retail is ridiculous. I have little tolerance for the corporate mentality. Especially when the corporation does really silly things. Like not telling us our schedules for the next week until the Thursday before. How is anyone supposed to plan anything? And putting their training course online, so that for the first 40 hours of work, all you do is sit on an uncomfortable stool and stare at things like this:



I knew going in that this was a retail job, but I was hoping there would be something greater at its core. I don't think there is. And, well...shit. Still, a shit job is better than no job. For now.

Am I the only jerk that feels like this within a week (OK, really within about seven minutes) of starting a new job? I wonder, does the shine wear off that quickly for others?

Mariposas

In the greens and golds of a late summer evening,

the monarch butterflies are readying themselves for a flight to Mexico.

Kind of miraculous, isn't it?