A Little Girl-y Girl

Yesterday, Rob and I were sitting on the bed with Butterfly and we were all looking at the new clothes she got for her birthday. [It was Friday...she’s officially one!] She picked up one of her shirts, held it up to her chest, and looked in the chifforobe mirror that was near the bed. Then, she held it up to me and clearly indicated that I was to put it on her. I did, and she looked in the mirror again with a very satisfied expression. It was hilarious.

By the way, if you are not from the south (and the iWeb spellcheck evidently is not), and you do not know what a chifforobe is, it is a piece of furniture having both drawers and space for hanging clothes. It is similar to a wardrobe. Ours has a long mirror that is close to the floor, perfect for Butterfly to use.

Today, I brushed Butterfly’s hair before we were to leave the house, and as usual, she wanted the brush to add her own finishing touches. This time, she took the brush and walked into the bedroom to the chifforobe and proceeded to brush her hair while looking in the mirror. It was SO adorable. Rob got the camera really fast, so we have a little movie of it that I’ll post later.

I guess there some ways she resembles me after all. And she’s only one!

We Are Silly People

The other night Rob and I were playing around with my computer’s camera, which has all these FUN special effects. I haven’t giggled so much in a long time. Here is a mere sampling of the hilarity. Yes, Butterfly, you have silly, silly parents!

Birch

Every year, Rob has given me an anniversary poem written on that year’s symbol: the first year, it was paper - pretty traditional. The second year, it was inked onto a beautiful piece of cotton, and the third, etched leather.

The fourth year, the poetry was an adorable baby wrapped in soft linens.

This was the year for wood, so my gift Friday was painstakingly carved onto a lovely piece of birch. Here’s the poem:

Birch

We weathered a dry summer that’s for sure.
The grass yellowed, the earth began to crack
in places, and the air even felt foreign-
an invader from some remote despot
sent to take our very breath as fealty.

A thirsty tree, the birch, its roots go deep
in such times, but also out twixt others
in its stand, and sometimes you’ll see two fused
seemingly at their base, where some dry time
in treey youth conspired them to join.

Married for five amazing years, to the most interesting man alive...a blessed woman I am!

Leading Up To The Big Day

Friday is our fifth wedding anniversary. Five years is a long time...if you count the blink of an eye a long time. I just can’t believe how fast it has flown by.

Why, I know it was just a few months ago when I was so giddily riding in that carriage, wondering if the horse was going to drag me, my father & brothers, my flower girl and my ring-bearer into the ditch in a desperate attempt to escape the bagpiper summoning me to my groom. I actually tried to get out of the carriage, thinking I could just walk down the hill, across the field and down the aisle into the arms of my awaiting prince-groom. Thank heavens for the prevailing level head of my daddy, sparing me a certain un-princess-like tumble down a sizable slope, convincing me to have patience with the horse, who did overcome his fears and deliver me to the top of the aisle...eventually.

Then, immediately, it seems, there was that first anniversary of paper, at Peacock Hill Inn, exchanging gifts of hand-made art on the porch of our tiny log cabin. And then the second year again with the Peacocks, but in a different room with cotton bearing the poetry. Then the third, shortly thereafter, leather bringing the verse and the fabulous Fluevog boots in Boston. And not five minutes ago, the fourth brought a baby swaddled in soft linens, the most perfect gift of all. Now this year it’s wood...a new house, wood floors, book shelves...what else?

Here’s the poem Rob wrote on cotton for me that second year:

Softer

Soft, your skin next to me,
softer than the Egyptian cotton sheets
so smooth in their threadcount

Soft, your arm wrapped in mine,
clinging like my favorite pair of jeans,
made yet softer by time

Soft, I hear your heart beat,
softer, your heart of love for me, beating
time with mine together

Soft, our home of colors,
from pastel plates to eggplant cotton throws
gives comfort from the day

Soft, your eyes smile at me
gilded with their extravagant lashes,
a spring sunset, shining

soft through young, fresh, wet leaves,
amber through green, rimmed with soft black shadow,
telling of light and hope

Soft, your voice, speaking life
and promise, whispering secrets to me,
secrets of the future

Soft, your skin next to me,
softer still your heart beside me, beating
time with mine together

The Scent of Shampoo

If you didn’t know already, we moved to a new house last month. Except that it’s not new, but very old - built in 1926. We are renovating it, and it’s so cute and clean and cozy...in our mind’s eye.

We were prepared for the significant task of making new the old; we were told that it would cost more than we thought and would take longer than we imagined. Yes, we knew what we were getting into.

But then again...

We were not expecting the burglar who broke our window and took my computer and the camera off the couch (but handily left behind fingerprints that sent him right back to jail because taking other people’s things and trading them for illegal drugs is a parole violation. He obviously does not watch C.S.I.)

We were not planning for the monthly pest control visit (and bill) to banish the hundreds, nay, thousands of creepy spiders decorating the outside of our house like horrific haunting halloween ornaments.

We had not foreseen the need to put out two kitchen fires, dousing one with an over-zealous and obviously malfunctioning fire extinguisher which exuberantly emptied it’s entire contents in our kitchen, creating a terrific yellow chemical dust-covering in the newly arranged and cleaned room.

We did not have a system set up for chopping vegetables while simultaneously keeping tiny sugar ants off the cutting board - the ants, or as Rob describes them, ‘the construction workers of the insect world,’ who have invaded our kitchen floors, countertops, and ingeniously, the dishwasher. What are they building, I ask you, other than resignation and patience in me? (And gratefulness that at least the spiders haven’t found a way inside.)

And most surprising of all, we did not know that Rob would be allergic to the house, having asthma and terrible allergy issues for 6 weeks straight, leading up to a nasty sinus infection for the last 2 weeks of that.

But now, finally, the glorious dawn is breaking, thanks to our new fabulous (and gigantic) air purifier and the volunteer doctor at the free ($40) clinic who prescribed beautiful pricey drugs.

So to my great delight, and even more so his own, yesterday he could again smell the shampoo.

FANCY AIR PURIFIER: $795
FANCY DRUGS: $110
BEING ABLE TO SMELL THE SHAMPOO: Priceless

Happy Father's Day

O, to go through life as happy as a baby girl in her daddy's arms. Or as happy as her mommy beholding such beauty.

A cherub visited my house

...to taste the flowers.

Then she smiled at me and flew away.

Come back soon, little angel.

Where have you been?

I have visited 8% of the earth's countries! See where I've been:



And I've visited 70% of the United States. Looks like I need to make a trip out to the northwest.



You can create your own maps at World66. Thanks to Ethos for finding this site.

The pamperazzi strikes again

OK, so I've been famous for 8 months now, and let me tell you, sometimes it's exhausting. I am constantly stalked by cameras catching my every little move. I can't even eat without them snap-snap-snapping away. And forget about me having ANY privacy to practice my new songs or this new language I am learning. Everytime I utter a syllable, that camera is filming, filming, filming. Sometimes when I see it, I just stop what I'm doing and just look around thinking 'That'll teach them!' but the patience of these people...they are relentless! I wonder if I am to go through life with the glare of flashbulbs in my eyes. Sigh.

Don't get me wrong, being a celebrity has its perks, of course. I have a full-time personal assistant to do all my work for me. I also have a driver and a chef. And I get the 'spa treatment' several times a day (you know....the 'personal' kind) and I always end up smelling nice. My assistant also helps me pick out just the right outfit (she's more of a stylist in that area than I am) to accentuate my natural beauty. And then there's her partner - he's great at all things entertaining and really cheers me up when I am bored. So I guess, all in all, life is good....even for a celebrity.

Link-a-doos

Six fun links for you on a lovely Sunday evening:

1. 'O for cuteness' (said by Mark in his exaggerated Wisconsin accent). For a veritable plethora of so-adorable-you-can't-stand-it, go to Cute Overload.

2. Did you know that everyone can now see Mr. Snuffleupagus? Big Bird has finally been vindicated. (That used to really stress me out when I was little. 'He IS real!!!!' I would yell at my television.) For more info on Snuffy and his friends, visit The Sesame Street Encyclopedia.

3. Are you bored with the way you tie your shoes? To find something more exciting, go to Ian's Shoelace Site.

4. To find out everything you need to know about airline seating, consult the SeatGuru.

5. Do you want to know a secret? PostSecret is updated every Sunday with lots of them.

6. And finally, do you ever wonder what time it is? Check the Official U.S. Timeclock.

Happy Surfing!

Happy Mother's Day!

Isn't this what being a mother is all about?

Happy Mother's Day to all mommies out there. May you have lots of cuddles and lots of sleep (and lots of them together).

(Photograph from Cute Overload. You MUST visit the cuteness!)

My daddy rocks

she knows what's what

No resemblance whatsoever

How is it possible to give birth to a child who looks nothing like me?

Half her genetic make-up is supposedly derived from me. It must have shown up in her personality & her unwillingness to miss anything by going to sleep.

Even her hands and feet look just like her daddy. Good thing he's cute, too.

The little charmer

Life with the charming little Butterfly gets more entertaining and fun with each new day. She is growing so fast and is so interesting!

She is definitely an extrovert and loves to communicate with everyone. (Hmm....I wonder where she got THOSE genes?!!) A couple of weeks ago, she suddenly started waving bye-bye all on her own, so now we've been doing that a lot. (We didn't even realize that she could do things like that...we're such novices!) So now I'm teaching her to clap her hands, which will come in handy when we see Da-da play his concerts.

Her babbles are getting more fun also. She's gone from da-da-da-da, ba-ba-ba-ba, ma-ma-ma-ma, etc. to some really cute sounding gibberish. And her smiles have gotten even more brilliant and heart-stopping. She seems to be in a constant restate of elation (when she isn't tired or frustrated with her toys), and it's such a beautiful, joyful gift to have in my home!

Motherhood is such a delight.

Smoke-free Tennessee...I wish

On Valentine's Day, Butterfly went to her first big concert: Sigur Ros at the Ryman. It was beautiful beyond belief. The loveliness made my chest ache at times, and Butterfly adored it. She sang and sang. Even now, when we play their recordings, she sings along...sometimes she even sounds like the lead singer. (You have to listen to them to understand that...)

Anyway, we were able to do that because they do not allow smoking at the Ryman, one of a myriad of reasons it's the best place in the world to see a band live.

We were also able to go see Rob perform his new stuff at The 5 Spot last night. I was planning on leaving if anyone was smoking, but to my great delight, there were signs on the door saying No Smoking Please. Yay!!!

However, there are a limited number of non-smoking venues in the great tobacco state of Tennessee, and I will be unable to see one of my favorite bands live because of disgusting smoke. Smoke that is dangerous to EVERYONE but especially babies.

Interesting fact: There are now at least 13 states that ban smoking in public places, and more states are considering legislation or have already passed a ban which will be effective at a future time. For more information, go to this site. Also, to see a limited list of non-smoking venues in Tennessee, go here. Do you think Nashville would ever consider a ban?

If the venue for this particular show were non-smoking, I could bring Butterfly, who would undoubtedly LOVE it. However, since I will not leave my baby with a sitter because she still nurses often and at irregular intervals, I will stay home with her.

(Another thing about a sitter: I waited 36 years to have a baby, and I really love spending time with her. I had lots of time alone without her & so far, there's been nothing interesting enough to lure me away from her. Sure, I want to see movies and bands, but not more than I want to see all her smiles and laughs. ALSO....this is no reflection on those who do have sitters - this is just my own personal preference for my own personal life.)

Since I cannot go, please attend on my behalf. You will surely be happy you did. For a preview of their music, click on each name to go to their MySpace pages.

Venus Hum with
The Suns Of Norway
and Timbre
May 6th @ 9 pm
Exit/In $10
GO!

The land of luxurious wi-fi

(I posted this last night on my MySpace page blog.)

Current mood: sleepy

Today was very exciting. We got high-speed wireless internet at HOME! We are now in the 21st century - the Information-fast Age! Yippee!!

I worked in the information technology for over 8 years, and I still had to call the tech support for Comcast and the ridiculous (but beautiful and fast and dreamy) wireless route to 'self-install' the stuff. Why is it that none of their handy little wizards work on Macs? Why? Why? And why do the foreigners I talk to pretend to have American accents and think they are so cleverly fooling me into thinking that I am not speaking to someone in Indonesia or India or Vietnam or whatever? Except that I have to ask the guy if he meant dot when he said dash because IP addresses usually contain dots and not dashes. I think he thought they were the same.

So now I have to instant message my husband who is surfing the net listening to funny new music and tell him that I'm going to sleep. Except the myspace IMer is down. O well.

I can re-watch this entire season of Alias on my computer now, which is very handy since I basically have short-term amnesia from sleep deprivation since the season premiere on Butterfly's birthday.

Yay.

Movie star in training

Butterfly has new sunglasses since her stroller shade isn't too impressive, especially when we are walking into the sun. Aren't they glamourous? Especially with that ultra-fashionable bib....

Since she doesn't even seem to notice she's wearing them, we don't yet have the problem of her taking them off and trying to snack on them. I guess I'll have to make sure she has toys to chew on when she wears them.

On a completely unrelated note, I got 7 inches cut off my hair a week ago and only one person commented. I guess long hair is long hair, even 7 inches shorter.... Either that or I truly am invisible!

Happy MY-birthday to you!

It is because I love you I give you for a MY-birthday present the George Jetson song. To hear it go to my new little website (www.julianalovespy.com) and click on the first link, Come And Get Me, George Jetson.

It is my favorite song I've written, and if you like it, feel free to download it by right-clicking on the link. The only thing I ask in return is that you let me know what you think about the song here in the comments section. And would you like to hear more of my songs? We are in the process of trying to decide what to do with my music - whether to pursue playing out live or record more songs or forget the whole thing, so any opinions you have would be much appreciated! [Please be honest. If you think it's just so-so or that I should just forget it altogether, you don't have to leave your name!]

Here are the lyrics to the song about an optimist living in a world of pessimists. I had a real dream one night about a hotel in the stars, and it looked like a really nice place to go.

Come And Get Me, George Jetson

Yesterday was ok
But yesterday went away
Now they say everyday
Things will fall apart at the seams
Everyone says the sky is falling
But I don't know if it's true

So can you come and get me, George Jetson
In your funny spaceship car
And drop me off at the hotel in the stars
Where I can run around in circles
In my iridescent dress
Until I dance and spin my way back to
Happiness

Well, if I could see what they see
Well then maybe I would believe
But to me, can't you see
It's just not as bad as it seems
I know they tell me that the sky is falling
But I don't think that it's true

So can you come and get me.....

Cause I don't believe the stars are
Just hanging by a thread
They just need some polish, that's all

So can you come and get me....

Cause I don't believe that we are here
Just hanging by a thread
We just need some polish, that's all

I am amazing. Truly.

I am an amazing person. Incredible, really.

Now before you start thinking, 'Wow, she really has a big head', believe me I don't. I've always my whole life felt 'not-good-enough' and just plain inadequate to varying degrees. However, thanks to much LOVE and affection tossed my way throughout the years, I've pretty much gotten that nasty nagging voice down to a teensy-weensy little whisper that only pops up occassionally. Like when I see ridiculously thin super models on the covers of things when I am waiting in line at the grocery with my cart full of food that will get me farther and farther away from ever being truly thin again. And, excuse me - why do they show us these pictures and try to get us to buy lots of food at the same time??? Especially the junk food right next to them. Wouldn't it make more sense to have all the 'Don't You Want To Be Skinny And Beautiful?' magazines for sale at the gym or something???

Anyway, where was I? Oh - No, I do not have a self-esteem the size of Brazil (the 4th largest country....I don't know how I know that. Is it true?) In fact, that love I referred to above made it possible for me to acquire what little self-confidence I currently have. It is fragile, like an African violet, but thankfully my wonderful husband and delightful friends know just how much water to give it so it will grow, and I think it might just show some tiny blooms one day. I hope they are purple!

So...back to what I was saying at the beginning: I am astoundingly incredible. And how do I have enough confidence to know that?

Well, I was just looking down at the perfect sleeping baby in my arms and it hit me: she came from me. This utterly perfect, perfectly beautiful, beautifully happy, happily content creature was formed in MY BODY. She grew and grew and then somehow someway I got her from in there to out here (ugh....there are no words). And every bit of nourishment she has ever received has been from me - every drop. And I can make her smile a gi-normous smile by just glancing her way and saying hello. And I can get her to stop crying better than anyone else in the world. Sometimes I am just the only one who will do. Me. I can do all that. I just cannot fathom it.

So it doesn't really matter anymore that I didn't make a 4.0 in college. Or dropped out of graduate school. Or that I never picked a career. Or that there's all this untapped 'potential' here that may never get tapped at all. Or that I never made much money. Or that my hair isn't brushed or my shoes don't match my purse or I wear white after Labor Day or I don't sit with my legs crossed like a lady or that I have a poochy tummy and my clothes are never all put away at once. So what? I did something BIG. And though she looks little right now, she is huge to me. And I did it right.

(Of course, it was probably because I didn't have any control over any of it, but that's a whole other topic...)

So it is today, the day before my 37th birthday, that I say with the psalmist: 'I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful. I know that full well.'

On mailing a package

My husband just had to mail a rather large package (28 lbs, 44" x 14" x 6") this morning, and when he returned from the adventure, he was compelled to write this 'proem'. I had to post it.

On Mailing A Package

It’s amazing how many things can go wrong mailing a package
how many things you need to remember to bring with you
in order to mail said package.

You need:
• the package
• packing tape (if it’s not already taped shut)
• money (i.e. your wallet)
• the address where the package is going

Without anyone of these things, your attempt at mailing the package will fail.
If you happen to remember that you forgot your wallet (or the package) after driving to the nearest Post Office, consider yourself lucky that you didn’t just wait in a long line at the Post Office only to reach the counter and publicly find yourself to be a complete idiot in front of a long line of people who have nothing better to do than to silently, carefully consider and (clucking their tongues, no doubt) feel sorry for the complete idiot who left his wallet (or the address, or god help you the package) at home, thereby failing the relatively simple act of mailing a package.

When you return to finish mailing the package, perhaps you’ll put your keys in the wrong pocket, and after mailing the package, return to your car and begin hunting for them, only to not be able to find them because devils have caused them to find a small flap of cloth in your pocket where they will be absolutely, ineffably hidden from you, thus making you think you left them on the counter and the horror of facing the postal clerk who just told you you could come to the front of the line when you come back with your package or money or address (even though when you finally made it back to the Post Office, there was no one in line, just the nice clerk grinning at you) the horror of facing the clerk’s grin makes your stomach fall and the skin on your scalp crawl. Or, shock and horror and bloody demons, you may have somehow inadvertently mailed your keys.

At this point you have several options. You can:
• Scream with rage
• Groan with frustration
• Laugh (recommended)
• Attack an innocent bystander (not recommended)
• Rifle through your pockets once again, praying you find your keys.

Hopefully the small prayer will bind the devils long enough for you keys to make a sound, and you will save yourself the further humiliation of not just leaving your keys at the Post Office, but even worse the humiliation of mistakenly thinking that you’ve left your keys at the Post Office after forgetting the package you meant to mail (or the money or address or tape) and confirming to the postal clerk that you’re having a really bad day and shouldn’t be trusted to keep track of anything or anyone.

$1,401,104,263

It's been a while since I've written, I know, but I've been kind of busy with Butterfly. Also, I didn't have much to say, honestly. But I read this article yesterday, and it so perfectly explains a little of why I am so mad at politicians of all types (conservative, liberal, Republican, Democrat, senators, presidents, etc.). I just had to share:

$1,401,104,263.

That's how much of our hard-earned money has gone to subsidize the spring break-style trips and conferences of the federal government over the last five years. Spending on bureaucracy boondoggles has increased some 70 percent in that time period.

We wouldn't know anything about this binge if Sen. Tom Coburn, R-Okla., hadn't asked. Last summer, the pork-busting chairman of the Senate Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs Subcommittee on Federal Financial Management, Government Information and International Security surveyed all federal departments and agencies and directed them to document their conference, meetings and travel expenses since 2000. At a hearing on Tuesday, Sen. Coburn unveiled his findings.

You'll be happy to know that the government junkets your tax dollars have funded include:

-- A Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) trip to the resort town of Los Cabos, Mexico, for a conference on American real estate and urban areas.

-- Another HUD outing to Honolulu -- for the Sacramento, Calif., Home Ownership Fair.

-- A Department of State expedition to Vienna, Austria, to partake in "7 Habits of Highly Effective People" and "Train the Trainer" workshops.

-- A Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) jaunt by 236 employees to an AIDS conference in Barcelona, Spain. Price tag: $3.6 million.

-- A total of 59 HHS conferences around the world with delegations of more than 100 -- including over 1,000 attendees to sunny Orlando, Fla. Employed by HHS? You're going to Disney World!

It would be one thing if all this worldwide travel were actually related to the actual agency/department goals and duties of the federal employees packing their bags and riding off into the sunset. But in too many cases, there is little if any connection between the meetings and the mission.

Read more here.

The thing is this: I would really love to have some of my tax money - that they are spending so lavishly - back so I could buy a Tivo. Our VCR is not recording right (and for once it wasn't USER error...), so all we got of Lost last night was static - Yikes! So I am downloading last night's episode right now from iTunes, but since we have dial-up internet it probably won't be done till next week's episode...tee hee.

Come to think of it, if the government would just streamline the IRS and make the tax code easier so we didn't have to pay all those tons of IRS employees, then maybe I could have some more tax money back to upgrade to cable internet. And then, if they would stop spending so much on bridges to nowhere in Alaska, I could even have wireless internet, the epitome of luxury. (Or they could use that $ on hurricane relief...or better yet, let ME donate MY money to hurricane relief.)

And then, if we didn't go to war with Iraq, I could have my extra gas money and fix the air conditioner in my car before summer gets here and Butterfly learns what sweat is!

[Disclaimer: I am not saying that the war is wrong; I haven't decided yet. Sometimes I lean towards the 'war is wrong under any circumstance' pacifism, but then I think of Hitler and how if he hadn't been stopped, he would have killed even more people. Or Stalin -- if only someone had stopped him before he killed even more people than the Nazis. And was Sadaam Hussein just another Hitler or Stalin in the making? On the other hand, is Iraq - and the world - that much better off because we invaded? How long would it have taken Sadaam to kill as many innocent civilians as have perished because of the war? And more importantly, would Jesus have gone to war?]

Just a little of what goes on in my head.....

Good old democracy at work

As you probably are aware, the radical Islamic party, Hamas, has just won 76 of 132 parliamentary seats in the Palestinian government, giving them a majority rule. The opposition party's Prime Minister Ahmed Qureia and his cabinet have resigned as a result.

What does this mean for the 'peace process' in the Middle East? Perhaps some clues can be found in these quotes from the Hamas Charter:

Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it.

There is no solution for the Palestinian question except through Jihad. Initiatives, proposals and international conferences are all a waste of time and vain endeavors.

What does it mean that the majority of Palestinian voters approve of the annihilation of Israel as a state?

Not every day an aurora borealis

This is for Aurora White and her parents. I think of this every time I see you - hope you are feeling better now!

Not Every Day an Aurora Borealis for Your Birthday

It is because I love you I give you for a birthday present the aurora borealis.

It was a long trip I took carrying the aurora borealis to you. Slippery is the aurora borealis. You think you have a hold of it - but it is sliding away off your hands and shoulders and you have to stop and get a better hold on it.

Many times it came near getting away from me. But I struggled with it and went on struggling...till at last I laid on your doorstep, on your front porch, stretching high into the sky, that fine big stack of shimmering swimmering lights, that good old reliable aurora borealis.

When you want another aurora borealis you tell me and I will go where the aurora borealises grow and I will struggle and go on struggling till I lay on your doorstep, on your front porch, one more aurora borealis, to show I love you.

And if you write to me saying you would like to have a big rainbow fresh off the sky, I will struggle and go on struggling till you see it right there on your doorstep, your front porch.

You can see I am a struggler ready any day to struggle on to show you I love you.

It is the text of a little book called Not Every Day an Aurora Borealis for Your Birthday: A Love Poem by Carl Sandburg. It is wonderfully illustrated by Anita Lobel, and I would highly recommend getting the book if you can find it. It is such a beautiful and delightful work of art, just like baby Aurora.

She speaks (and watches Lost)

Here's a hodgepodge entry today. First, you must listen to the cute Butterfly speak here. Isn't she adorable? These are her happy coos. She also has some frustrated coos, as well.

I read in my baby book (The Baby Book, by William Sears & Martha Sears -- the BEST ever) that if parents respond quickly to their baby's cries and cues, then the baby learns that it doesn't need to cry for it's needs and instead uses other means of communication first. And it is true - if Butterfly is frustrated, she is starting to use her frustrated coos instead of a whine or a cry. Some (crazy) people think that if you ignore a baby's cries, you can 'train' it not to cry (so it won't manipulate you into meeting its needs or something - I don't know). However, if a baby is ignored when it is giving early signals or crying, it will learn to cry MORE and not less. In fact, those babies will start out with their loudest cries immediately when they have a need, probably because they have learned that no one is listening to their other signals.

We have always tried to respond to Butterfly as quickly as possible when she has a need, and she really cries very little. Now that she is becoming verbal, she is really communicating even more and crying and whining even less when she is frustrated. So it really works!

Now on to Lost....does anyone else reading this blog watch Lost? (For that matter, does anyone else read this blog.....?) Since Butterfly can't talk back and tell me what she thinks and Rob is at work most of the time, I have discovered some interesting message boards talking about Lost. I haven't posted anything yet, but it is interesting to read what others think. Here is an interesting and very complex theory. What do you think?

Wednesday night's episode was interesting. People are wondering why Sawyer was calling the 'other' man Zeke. My theory is that when the boat met up with the raft at sea last season, the guy introduced himself as Zeke (before shooting Sawyer and kidnapping Walt). Of course, my memory is not really functioning now after almost 4 months of sleep deprivation, so I could have imagined that. We do have that episode on DVD (we watched it in Hungary after Mike D sent it to us - YAY) so Rob says I should watch it again and see. But it was so traumatic!

(Funny - Rob got me extra memory for my iBook at Chrismas. I asked him if he could also upgrade my brain's memory.....)

Back to Lost, some people think Walt was one of the others holding the torches. Also that there weren't really that many others - it was just a trick of some kind. What do you think? Can't wait till next week!

My baby is made of sugar

This has been running around in my head for weeks and just came together this morning:

My baby is made of sugar
I don't know if you are aware

She has chocolate eyes
And lollipop lips
And strawberries in her hair

My baby is made of sugar
Confectioner's I believe
Cotton candy for cheeks
And a gumdrop nose
It's something you just have to see

My baby is made of sugar
From her head down to her feet
With her licorice fingers
And marshmallow toes
There's nothing on earth that's as sweet!

Candy, anyone?

I couldn't have said it better myself:

"I want to throw a Mexican-themed party and have a giant pinata in the shape of Ted Kennedy's head."

(A quote from JD regarding the Alito confirmation hearings)

Technologically speaking

I have discovered the web browser Firefox (via my husband, who tends to discover the tech things first) and have been using it for the last couple of weeks. And WOW! I love it - much more than IE or Safari. I think everyone should try it and experience these fun things:

Live Bookmarks: Some web pages have RSS feeds that let your browser know when the pages are updated. Firefox uses this & it is my favorite feature. Basically, you bookmark a page and then when you want to go there, you click on your bookmark to see a dropdown list of the new articles, etc. on the page. You can click on one of them & it will go directly to that article. This bypasses the step of loading the page and then going to the new article. For example, instead of going to my entire blog, you could just go to the latest blog entry. And then, of course, if there is nothing new, you can just skip going to the page.

Tabbed Browsing: Within one browser window, you can open up several tabs at once to view different pages (instead of opening new windows). This works with the above bookmark feature - you can open all the updates in tabs & it does it all at once. So while you are reading one, others can be loading.There are other features like popup ad blocking, virus protection, etc. And there are some really neat search features I haven't tried yet, but sound really easy & quick. Quick is important because we have dial-up still, and I wait long enough for things as it is!

So....go here and try out Mozilla's Firefox browser - it's free! Let me know what you think if you try it. Or if you already use it.

Poet laureate of my heart

I guess it's a poetry week. Here's one by the best one of them all - my darling husband. Isn't it lovely?

You I Love

Sometimes I see your smile
your slope I stop I realize the creature
of beauty before me

It cuts me sometimes
the beauty you wear like a jacket
and toss about with as much care
and, wrinkled nose, pose
disapproved
before your gaze

You look a want of new
You somehow, tired of the
You you see, the
you I love

Your skin is its own world
hidden, so much of it, so often
from all but me

A masterpiece given to
me alone, a Sistine Chapel for
only my touch, only my
eyes to touch, a drink of you
solitary
inside my sight

You look alright to me
You see your slouch, I see
You shining, the
you I love

(Rob H)

Introduction to poetry

I was listening to A Prairie Home Companion in the car recently, and I heard someone reading the end of what seemed to be a poem written from the point of view of a deceased dog talking to his owner. It was hilarious. Unfortunately, I arrived at my destination and had to leave the car before finding out who the reader/author was. So I did some research the other day and discovered that it was Billy Collins. Of course!!!

He is one of our favorite poets, introduced to us by our friend Eric. Every time there is a 'reading party' (that's when it's someone's birthday or something and we say, 'everyone bring something to read - a poem, an essay, a short book', and we read aloud to each other), Billy Collins is an absolute favorite. Here's why:

The Revenant

I am the dog you put to sleep, as you like to call the needle of oblivion, come back to tell you this simple thing: I never liked you--not one bit. When I licked your face, I thought of biting off your nose. When I watched you toweling yourself dry, I wanted to leap and unman you with a snap. I resented the way you moved, your lack of animal grace, the way you would sit in a chair to eat, a napkin on your lap, knife in your hand. I would have run away, but I was too weak, a trick you taught me while I was learning to sit and heel, and--greatest of insults--shake hands without a hand. I admit the sight of the leash would excite me but only because it meant I was about to smell things you had never touched. You do not want to believe this, but I have no reason to lie. I hated the car, the rubber toys, disliked your friends and, worse, your relatives. The jingling of my tags drove me mad. You always scratched me in the wrong place. All I ever wanted from you was food and fresh water in my metal bowls. While you slept, I watched you breathe as the moon rose in the sky. It took all of my strength not to raise my head and howl. Now I am free of the collar, the yellow raincoat, monogrammed sweater, the absurdity of your lawn, and that is all you need to know about this place except what you already supposed and are glad it did not happen sooner-- that everyone here can read and write, the dogs in poetry, the cats and the others in prose.

(Billy Collins, from his cd The Best Cigarette)

His website is located here. You can also go here and read a few of his poems. (You MUST do this; they are SO fun. I want to buy all his books, including the new The Trouble With Poetry and Other Poems. By the way, he was once the poet laureate for the U.S.

I will leave you with an

Introduction to Poetry

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

(Billy Collins)

Baby Mine

I have decided that if I never play my songs out live again or never finish recording them, that's ok. I think the BEST thing I could ever do with my voice is sing to this sweet little creature here. Last night, I sang her the song "Baby Mine" when she was crying, and she went from tears to smiles immediately. (I think it's her favorite song currently.) And I realized that there's no audience to whom I'd rather sing.

So I think I'll spend today singing to, cuddling, rocking and loving my adorable Butterfly. It's the most fun I've ever had!

By the way, I saw online that the above song is from the movie Dumbo, so I was thinking that we should watch it because I don't think I ever saw it (or at least I don't remember much about it other than the cute big ears.) Then Rob said it was SO sad because Dumbo gets separated from his mommy! Um.....I think I'll wait a while to watch it. I have too many dreams about being separated from Butterfly as it is!

The truth that lies beyond

Here is a quote from one of my favorite people, my dear (and clever) husband:

There are some ideas and concepts that just punch holes through the web of language and let shine the light of the truth that lies beyond.

To sing of brightness and beauty

Here's a quote from Cancer Ward, by Alexandr Solzhenitsyn, one of my favorite novels (and authors) ever: The author is describing the character Vera Gangart:

Her smile was kind, not so much her smile as the lips themselves. They were vital seperate lips, which seemed about to flutter from her face like a lark into the sky. They were made, as all lips are, for kissing, yet they had other more important work to do: to sing of brightness and beauty.

Everyone should read that book and really anything else by Solzhenitsyn. As you can see from the paragraph above, he has a lovely way with words. I am trying to read more of his work, but he wrote so accurately about the oppression in the Soviet Union that much of his work is very, very sad and disturbing (though Cancer Ward is, surprisingly, not so sad and kind of funny at times).

For his trouble and talents, he was arrested many times, tossed into the gulag (prison camp) and was eventually exiled to Kazakhstan. He also won an Nobel prize for literature, which may have saved his life. It brought him and his work so much attention from the outside world that the Soviets couldn't really kill him without a big uproar. He eventually left (escaped?) the USSR, and he now lives in Vermont. For a brief biography of this remarkable author and man, go here.

Also, if you are an artistic person, you MUST read his Nobel prize acceptance speech located here. Wow.

Now read his books! You can start with A Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich; it's really short and covers one day in the life of a gulag prisoner. Then be sure and read Cancer Ward. (By the way, the author also had a bout with cancer when he was in exile and spent time in a soviet cancer ward. And we think our lives are hard...) For some really sad but true non-fiction, you can read The Gulag Archipelago about life in the former Soviet Union.

Thank you, Mr. Solzhenitsyn, for believing in a better world than the one you saw around you and for persevering to show us that art really can change things. May the rest of your life be peaceful, and may you see as many days of joy as you did sorrow.

You Are More

Here's a journal entry I wrote a while ago that I read at the Crucible once. It's posted for Lauri S - at long last!

You Are More

You are like a bird who soars high and sees farther than I do. You are light and have a beautiful song. Your feathers are made of more colors than I can imagine.

But you are more than a bird.

You are like a lion. You are bold and brave and can find me when I'm hidden. You have a powerful roar and are intimidating to those who are not your friends.

But you are more than a lion.

You are like a horse and can run as fast as the wind. You laugh at fear and carry me far from trouble. You are majestic and beautiful.

But you are more than a horse.

You are like a flower. You are gentle and beautiful and full of sweetness. You can bring smiles to dreary days.

But you are more than a flower.

You are like an ocean and are so deep I cannot reach the bottom of you. You can crush anything in your path. I could get lost in you.

But you are more than an ocean.

You are like light. You can shatter the darkness and chase it away with just a tiny piece of you. You show my path to me when I am lost.

But you are more than light.

You are like music and you can stir my heart, touching it gently or deeply, whichever you choose. You can get past all my blocks and walls and gates with no effort. You can bring me peace with just a whisper.

But you are more than music.

I don't know what you are, but I do know that if you are more than a bird, a lion, a horse, a flower, an ocean, the light and music, you are bigger than my imagination can contain.

You are everything and everything is yours. There is no end to you and no beginning, but with you every beginning starts and we will find our end in you.

You made everything, and you are revealed by your creation and that is so mysterious to me. Everything we discover about it is from you.

Such a magnificent being.
Such a majestic brilliance.
Such a grand and indescribable person.

And YOU saw ME.

You saw me and you loved me entirely. You followed me and you wooed me and you made me fall in love with you. You WANT me. You want ME.

Such things are too great for me to understand, but I will never stop trying.

I will never stop looking at the parrot feathers and knowing that yours are even more full of colors I've never seen.

I will never stop imagining how much more powerful and majestic you are than lions or horses.

I will notice the flowers and thank the merciful heart who gave us such beauty.

When I am at the ocean, I will know that though it is vast, it is but a drop to you.

I will ever be grateful for light that shines and music that melts me and I will know that YOU are HE that chose me.

And for that, I will give you my everything.

When u sing, u begin with DoReMi

My favorite Christmas present this year (except for the Butterfly, of course - though September was a little early for Christmas) was from Rob. He wrote me a song called 'You Bloom'. I talked him into posting the recording, so if you want to hear it, click here.

It is now my favorite song, of course. I can't get it out of my head - good thing it's so pretty! Rob is singing & playing guitar and programmed everything else. He's so smart. And creative.

When u read, u begin with ABC

I just read the most PERFECT description of trying to drive from one place to another in England. It is from a mystery novel my father-in-law gave me. Here it is:

Have you ever tried to find a village in England after dark? Night in the desert is nothing to it. You see a sign at last that says 'Whatsit two and a half miles' and you think: Good old Whatsit! Nearly there! Hurrah for England and signposts! And then half a mile on you come to a place where three ways fork, and there's a nice tidy signpost on the little bit of green in the middle and every blame one of that signpost's arms has got at least three names on it, but do you think one of them mentions Whatsit? Oh, no! That would make it far too easy! ... So you take one of the three roads, and after passing two more signposts that don't take any notice of Whatsit, you come to one that says: Whatsit, six and three-quarters. So you start off all over again, four miles to the bad, as it were, and it happens all over again. And again! And by the time Whatsit has done that on you half a dozen times, you don't care what happens as long as you can stop driving around corners and go to sleep. (from A Shilling For Candles by Josephine Tey)

The same also applies to the Motorways (interstates) in England and all the roads in Germany. They can't just say M-1 North or M-2 South and have an arrow. NOOOOO..... they just put the name of several towns and have an arrow. Heaven help you if you don't know the name of every town between you and the place you want to be! And if it's August, you better have a hotel reservation....as we found out the hard way. Maybe that'll be a blog entry for later.

Josephine Tey is a British novelist who wrote during the first half of the 20th century. She wrote mysteries to support herself so she could write plays, which is what she really loved. It's kind of like Madeline L'Engle acting in plays to support herself while she was writing. Their 'real' jobs sound so much more fun than testing software or building cabinets or waiting tables which are the real jobs here in Nashville.

Back to Ms. Tey...my father-in-law recently discovered her and is reading all her books (and then passing them on to others.) I've read and enjoyed 2 of them so far. The author does not let you figure out whodunit, so there's no point in trying. But the plots and characters are interesting.

A very good place to start

Here's a Christmas picture of Baby Butterfly. She is wearing her new legwarmers - aren't they cute? (If you want some, they are available here.)

She's also wearing her ever-present bib, since she spits up a LOT, something she inherited from her daddy, according to his parents. The biggest problem with that is NOT the laundry it generates or the fact that we need tons of bibs and burpcloths. It's not even having to change my own clothes because neither bib nor burpcloth nor baby caught her milky offering. Those things really don't bother me, believe it or not. No, my ONLY complaint is that her bibs cover up her little outfits, so you can't see them entirely. I'm such a clothes person, and I SO want her adorable tops to be visible and not covered in bibs, no matter how decorative they are! Oh well, the reflux commonly stops by around 6 months....just in time for the teething drool...

On a lighter note...the Butterfly appears to have been born a very SOCIAL butterfly. Hmm...I wonder where she got that! She smiles and coos so much and is SO friendly to people. And she doesn't wait for you to smile at her; if you just glance over at her, she'll stop you in your tracks with her toothless smiles. She has even made friends with the baby in the mirror; they smile and have wonderfullly amicable conversations. I wonder what they are talking about.

Speaking of the Butterfly, I just looked over at her and she was looking at me with the sweetest little sleepy grin on her face. Wow...I love being her mommy. As a former little girl who played with baby dolls all day long, I can say that having her as my own real baby is truly a dream come true! Thanks to God....and Rob!

Let's start from the very beginning

Well, I've decided to start a blog. Why? Here are some reasons:

1. I have not-so-much adult conversation in my life currently since I'm home with Baby Butterfly, and I MUST get these thoughts out of my head.

2. I have discovered the art of surfing the net of late (one of the only things possible to do while simultaneously nursing a newborn) and am constantly finding really interesting things I'd like to pass along.

3. I've always meant to write something - novel, poetry, songs, a memoir, southern gothic short stories - and since none of those are forthcoming, I thought I'd start with a blog.

What will I write about? Thanks for asking! Who knows, really... I'm thinking it will be mixture of things like literature, politics, music, parenting, my cute butterfly, faith, pop culture, whatever. I hope to write something every day or two, so please bookmark the site if you like what you read.

Oh, and please leave comments! It is the closest thing I get to contact with the outside world sometimes. Happy reading.