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.....