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July 31, 2007

Salmonella Alert '07!

I'm midway through Salmonella Alert '07. So far, none has been spotted. It's pretty easy to spot salmonella, what with the projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhea.

I'm fine. Really. Last night B. grilled some chicken breasts, corn on the cob, and wee little yellow potatoes, and it was all great. Well, until I got about three bites into my chicken and thought, "Mmmmm ... slick and chewy. Oh my God! Chicken shouldn't be slick and chewy!!!" and commenced spitting chewed food onto my plate and teaching my kid a new way to entertain herself at the dinner table. Sure enough, my chicken wasn't cooked through.

The other pieces of chicken were fine. Mine was the only raw one.

I have the disadvantage of knowledge in this category. In culinary school, they made damn sure that we knew every single thing there is to know about food-borne illnesses and how to prevent them. Generally, I can touch a piece of chicken or a steak and tell you to what degree it's been cooked, which makes me feel particularly stupid about devouring half of a raw piece of chicken.

I'm a bit on the paranoid/hypochondriac side as it is. Being on Salmonella Alert '07 doesn't help. Every time my stomach gurgled last night I was sure This Was It. And my stomach gurgled a lot. Turns out I was just hungry from not finishing my dinner.

It would be so much easier if they made early salmonella detection tests. If you see one line, you're negative. If you don't see any lines because you've befouled the stick, chances are you're positive.

Salmonella generally manifests within 48 hours of ingestion. I remember that from every class I took in culinary school. From my own personal experiences with the disease (two of them, none of them caused by my own food), I tend to develop it faster than that, and in a manner that completely prevents me from functioning as a human being. I become a vomit zombie, or vombie, if you will.

The first time, I was in college, and it hit quick and fast, delivered via a sandwich from Arby's. I was incapacitated enough that my mother had to be called to fetch me.

The second time was from St. Louis' favorite pizza chain (although I have no idea why because my God, they're gross), Imo's. I ordered an Italian sub (the same thing I had from Arby's that made me so ill five years earlier). B. ordered hot wings. I can pretty much guarantee that the genius in the kitchen put B.'s wings in the fryer/oven/delivery car engine block/wherever it is they cook their food, then proceeded to make my sandwich without washing the residual chicken skank from his hands. Not that I witnessed this; I'm just guessing and making unfair assumptions. All I know is I could barely move the next morning, as all of my energy reserves were required for expelling former food items from my body.

Unfortunately, we were supposed to make the 13-hour drive to Michigan to celebrate Christmas with B.'s family that day. He wanted to cancel, but I refused. It was our first Christmas as a married couple and I'd be damned if I was going to ruin it (or have his family think I was wussy enough to be sidelined by residual chicken skank) by staying home. So I puked my way to Michigan.

Also unfortunately, I'm rather fair-skinned, and I tend to rupture every blood vessel in my face when I vomit. By the time we got to Michigan, my face was mapped with every single broken vessel and capillary. A mass of squiggly purple, with bruises around my jaws and the corners of my mouth.

Such a pretty new wife. She's not contagious, is she? Do you have a life insurance policy on her, because I think she might be dying.

So you can understand why I'm a tad paranoid about last night's dinner mishap. Abusing my digestive system with a bottomless cup of coffee all day at Cooperella probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. I feel slightly ill, and I keep thinking, "Uh oh. This Is It," and then I remember the three gallons of coffee and I'm reassured that I don't have salmonella. I have liver failure.

Remind me to tell you about Thanksgiving Rabies Watch '99 and the encore, Thanksgiving Rabies Watch '00. I've discovered that we have a raccoon living in our trees, so maybe we'll do Thanksgiving Rabies Watch '07: The Eighth Anniversary Edition this year.

Posted by Robin at 08:08 PM | Comments (10)

July 29, 2007

The Boob and the Tube

I don't spend much time watching TV. I've got a handful of shows I like - "Scrubs", "My Name is Earl", and "New Adventures of Old Christine". I can easily get sucked into Discovery Channel (especially if there's a "Dirty Jobs" marathon involved), History Channel, and History International if I'm not careful. And while I generally mock reality TV, I get a wee bit obsessive over "American Idol" every year. Then there's the reality shows on A&E and Bravo. Somehow, being on these slightly more highbrow channels removes all reality show guilt. Still, sitting in front of the TV? I'm far too manic for that.

Something's happened to me in this new house, particularly on Sundays. Maybe the precident of severe laziness was set the day after the Boob-Ha-Ha auction, when everyone in the house slept until noon, ate hot wings for breakfast, and sat on our asses staring at either the TV or the various computer monitors.

Oh, so this is why people sit on their asses and do nothing. Because it's fun!

Last Sunday, my ass barely moved from the basement couch. I can't even remember what I watched. All I recall is that it was in marathon form, and on either Discovery or History Channel, so as to make me not a complete slack. I remember - it was nothing but serial killers, all day.

Did I mention that I at least knit or blog while watching hours of TV about serial killers? And sometimes I parent, if necessary. So I'm not being a complete blob. I'm a complete blob with very light yarn callouses on my fingers.

A&E sucker-punched me today. First, with Intervention. By God, I may be a fat, lazy slob glued to my couch and knitting but damn, at least I'm not that woman who goes to sleep with her jug o' Walmart brand mouthwash for easy buzz access when she comes to. Suddenly, I'm feeling pretty awesome about myself. Which is why reality TV's so popular, isn't it?

Even though "Intervention" makes me feel good about my own life, it's still pretty fucking depressing. I turned off A&E and watched a few History Channel shows about the Doomsday Clock. Then, to undo the panic, I took in some Gene Simmons' Family Jewels, which sounds dirty but would require far more energy than I'm willing to exert.

And now, how can I pass this up? It's The Two Coreys! Holy God, how can I possibly look away? It's like every one of my 14-year-old fantasies have come true! Well, not really, since my 14-year-old fantasies didn't involve one Corey being a fussbudget and the other being a jackass. All of this makes me feel even better about myself because 1) I'm not Corey Haim, and 2) I don't have to live with him.

Could someone please jab a sock knitting needle into my eye before "Confessions of a Matchmaker" comes on and completely melts my brain?

Posted by Robin at 08:57 PM | Comments (10)

July 28, 2007

Dance! Dance! Dance!

A few weeks ago I got a slightly unusual comment on one of my videos on YouTube. It came from someone I'd never encountered, whose profile contained no videos or other identifying information. All the comment said was, "This video is a copyright infrigement."

Uh, yeah. Just like 95% of the videos on YouTube. Duh.

The video had been online for well over a year. It's a shaky, barely-audible (except for my stupid giggling) clip of two-year-old Clara Jane, eating a frozen yogurt pop and extolling the virtures of Wilco's "Candyfloss". It's a bad video that would only interest people who dig my kid and people who feel the need to hear the worst possible rendition of "Candyfloss" ever captured.

I chalked the comment up to some geek, probably a Wilco fan pissed off that my video interrupted a stream of a zillion concert bootlegs. I deleted the comment, blocked the user, placed a short little rant about it on Twitter and went about my business.

Later that day I got an email from my blog buddy Eden about how a similar issue with her YouTube account had blown up. I'm not even sure I responded to her email, since this all happened around the time of the Boob-Ha-Ha and I was majorly distracted.

Well, Eden's case has really blown up. So much so that I damn near watched Bill O'Reilly last night to see her talking about how she's suing Universal Music.

Sorry I couldn't watch, Eden. I didn't get the message until after the show. By then I was digesting a lot of curry and while I adore you and love what you're doing, I was afraid Bill would make me vomit Indian food, which is a sure-fire way to take the new right out of a new house. But I was supporting you in spirit. Truly. Because holy shit. I'm a music lover, and I'm so sick and tired of how the big music companies are grasping at pathetic straws to save their asses, instead of evolving with their consumers.

What musicians are signed to Universal? Andrew WK. Ashlee Simpson. T.A.T.U. Saliva. Smash Mouth. Suddenly, it makes sense why they would threaten legal action against a family. They obviously need the cash.

Yes, I'm choosing to ignore that some of my favorite artists - Johnn Cash, Ryan Adams, Amy Winehouse, Sonic Youth, Rufus Wainwright, U2, Drive-By Truckers, and Beck - are signed to Universal.

I'm not going to ignore the fact that really shitty records by the likes of Black Eyed Peas and Pussycat Dolls have brought fistfuls of cash to Universal over the past few years with songs about little more than female body parts. Nice. Way to support the arts and humanity, Universal!

I'm also not going to ignore the fact that Eden's video that's drawing so much fire contains music by an artist who has battled against record companies for the rights of artists and consumers for most of his 30-year career and has been at the forefront of digitally delivering music at a fair price to fans. My questionable video? Song by Wilco, a band that, when they got screwed by their record company, opted to offer their album for free on their website, eventually leading the record company to re-sign them to another imprint. Of course big record companies have to sue people! How else will they ever afford to buy the same album twice?

The whole situation makes my head hurt.

I know that laws are laws, but what happens with the laws are no longer applicable? I guess this is how change comes about. I'd love it if change came about by all parents uploading videos to YouTube of their kids joyfully dancing to copyrighted music that's barely audible in the background. If you've got the guts to do it, send me the link.

Speaking of dance ...

Clara Jane had her first dance class today. It went about like yoga class: she stood nearby and watched while I did the chicken dance, the hokey-pokey, and the shark dance. I drew the line at doing a forward roll, as I can't get into the frog pose without my legs snapping in two, nevermind that there's no way I can get my head on the floor with this spectacular chest of mine.

I try not to get frustrated with her. I don't want to be the pushy parent who badgers her kid into participating in a public class that she might not be comfortable participating in. There were a few of those, and one situation ended in vomiting. Not good for anyone.

Going into the classes, she talks about how awesome they are. Afterwards, she talks about how awesome they are. During, she just wants to stand back and watch me do yoga to kid's songs or wedding dances.

Maybe that's why she likes it: it's more fun to watch Mama look like an ass than it is to risk doing a silly dance in public!

Just for that I'm going to make a video of the silly dance she does in private to "Should I Stay or Should I Go", upload it to YouTube, and let her deal with the embarrassment of seeing her own booty being shaken on a major news network. Joe Strummer will certainly roll in his grave, for oh so many reasons.

Posted by Robin at 01:00 PM | Comments (2)

July 27, 2007

Friday Shuffle - The Same, But Different Edition

I had this pipe dream when we moved. I'd thought that maybe, the massive increase in my panic attacks over the past seven years was in direct correlation to life in the crapshack in the Redneck Jungle, and that once removed, they'd magically disappear.

They haven't.

That said, they're better. When I'm anxious or, on the rare occasion, panicked, my first instinct isn't to run away from home, but rather to stay there. I've always been thankful that my particular version of agoraphobia got me out of the house instead of imprisoning me in it.

I had my first big attack since the move today. Not that it surprised me. It's the time of the month that leads to the attacks. My schedule was thrown off, thanks to everyone sleeping far too late this morning, which always puts me on edge. I woke up with a start at 10:27, terrified because Clara Jane hadn't woken me up She was fine. Just snoozing in after not taking a much-needed nap yesterday. Then Chloe, the Basset hound, had some issues walking up the steps, which sent me over the edge into sweaty, heart-racing fear.

She's fine. She just needs her butt popped again. Anal gland problems. They were full when my pal Jen the Groomer drained them on Tuesday. When they get overfull like that, the fill up again within a few days. It takes a few butt-poppings to get her back on track. Regardless, it's enough to throw me into a spin, especially when the time of the month is wrong, my schedule's off, and I've been over-busy.

We had some errands to run today, anyway, and I was thankful. I know I would have been okay at home, but I was relieved to have an excuse to not be there. We ran our errands and now we're at Cooperella for lunch. I thought we had arrived late enough to miss the bulk of the noisy crowd, but I was wrong. Apparently, today there's a meeting of St. Louis Shriekers Anonymous. I'm just glad that my kid is snuggled up beside me, quietly eating her turkey and swiss sandwich. Oh, and look who just walked in. The dad who, last time I blogged at Cooperella, blew a gasket because his son cast a sidelong, interested glance at a pink tutu. NO! Not for boys! NO! He's been here five minutes and he's already managed to lose the boy, who's probably in the boutique, trying on party dresses. I hope.

It's a good thing one of those errands I ran earlier today was to get my panic and anxiety drugs. Give me enough today to make me able to do little more than shuffle around, staring at my feet in oblivious bliss until the next few days pass.

1. The End of Medicine - The New Pornographers
2. Van Lear Rose - Loretta Lynn
3. Wang Dang Doodle - Koko Taylor
4. Wipe the Clock - Uncle Tupelo (who I've been listening to all day)
5. Something to Brag About - George Jones and Tammy Wynette
6. Take the Skinheads Bowling - Camper Van Beethoven
7. Mama Said - The Shirelles
8. Happy When it Rains - Jesus and Mary Chain
9. Novocaine for the Soul - The Eels
10. All He Wants to Do is Fish - The Replacements

Posted by Robin at 01:07 PM | Comments (8)

July 26, 2007

Robin's House of Fashion Disasters

Oh, the laziness! My parents left this morning and I stayed in my pajamas all day. Granted, I also did six loads of laundry and cleaned, so I guess it wasn't all laziness. I just feel lazy when I stay in pajamas (by "pajamas" I mean yoga pants and a t-shirt; I'm as well-dressed as most people in my old neighborhood on a fancy day).

This isn't a knitting blog, you know. It's a blog by someone who happens to knit. When I'm completely void of interesting stories, you get to look at what I'm knitting. It's socks. All the time with the socks. Did you know I have set a personal goal for myself to knit every pattern in Sensational Knitted Socks. I've already completed a pair for my mom and a pair for a friend from the book. Since the end of Boob-Ha-Ha, I've wanted to do nothing but knit, so I should be finished with the book sometime in 2014 instead of my originally-projected 2016.

See? I don't tell you people everything.

I finished yet another sock last night, in lovely yarn dyed by Rachel. Wanna see?

In my continued learning, I learned to not leave a lone, hand-knitted sock made with expensive yarn within reach of a three-year-old:

Legwarmeresque, with Velcro sandals and a bike short front-wedgie. At least I wasn't the worst-dressed member of the household today.

Posted by Robin at 10:03 PM | Comments (4)

July 25, 2007

Stuff I've Learned

I know, this is damn near the same as those lame-ass posts with dots I often make when I don't have anything terribly interesting happening in my life. Bear with me. Life is good and calm, and it's quiet enough that I can actually hear my brain when it wants to teach me stuff.

I've learned that it's a waste to spend $12 for a yoga class for my kid. Why? Because I wind up doing all the yoga, all while cajoling Clara Jane to c'mon, please be a downward-facing dog instead of standing there, interrupting the yoga teacher with the details of this morning's episode of "Curious George". The after-effects? All the sore muscles of yoga with none of the Zen benefits. Screw that. From now on, I pay $12/class to yoga teachers who don't invite pants-poopers into the classroom.

I've learned that what Clara Jane lacks in yoga ability, she makes up for in descriptive talents. For example: "Murphy throwed-ed up. She went [insert dog-vomit noises here]. It was orange and looked like a cupcake." I've also learned that there is something that can suppress my insatiable cupcake appetite.

Speaking of dog problems, did you know that Scott Wolf from "Party of Five" has a Maltese with fleas? I learned that yesterday. He sought advice from my pal Jen the Groomer. I don't know if the Maltese pukes orange cupcakes, though.

I've learned that, just because my dad complain on the length of our grass, that doesn't mean he's willing to go to the garage, get the mower, and cut it himself.

I learned that, when the local Punkymoms group has a playdate at the same time and location as a local affluent suburban moms group, it's the punkymoms and their children who are better behaved. I'm sure this doesn't surprise a lot of you. Our tattoos were better, too.

I've learned that I really miss Trader Joe's. I went there today for the first time since the move, and I honestly wanted one of everything.

I've learned that "The Grapes of Wrath" might possibly be my favorite book of all time and I was an idiot for letting it intimidate me for all these years. Ma Joad is my new hero. I've also learned that it's scary and sad how applicable the novel is to what's going on in our world these days.

I've learned that my husband can walk down the street while reading the new Harry Potter book. I just looked out the window and saw it with my own two eyes.

I've learned that no matter how much B. and Clara Jane claimed the need for a xylophone in this house, they were mistaken.

I've learned that I'm quite smart these days.

Posted by Robin at 04:09 PM | Comments (9)

July 23, 2007

Dotty Monday

• My parents are coming to visit tomorrow. This will be their third visit in the not-quite-six weeks since we moved. I think they're gradually moving in.
• Guess who's going to see her favorite band in one of her favorite towns, maybe with one of her favorite people (or her spouse)? Yes, me. Thank you. I also might be seeing someone I've known damn near my whole life but haven't seen in at least a decade. And B. might actually go! He never goes to shows with me. It'll be a big night, indeed.
• I haven't spoke much of Wilco since the move. Odd, since you'd think my favorite band would be on my mind now that I live in the hometown of the band's core member. Not that that's why we moved here. It's just a perk that I can drive past his childhood home whenever I go through the drive-thru at Geo's for hot wings. Not that I've done that. But I can. Anyway, the past 24 hours have been Wilcoful. Yesterday, I bought concert tickets. This morning, Clara Jane and I listened to their new CD, which begins with one of my current favorite songs, "Either Way". First I was sad when she said, "Hey! We saw this song on TV!" And then I was verklempt when she sang it word-for-word. Without the VW pimping, even.
• Tonight I finally watched Sunken Treasure. Of course.
• My awesome pal Summer, who takes gorgeous photos, today sent the ones she took at the Boob-Ha-Ha. Wanna see 'em? Have at it.
• That's pretty much it. Really. Basement sequestering. Neighbor stalking. Sock-knitting. Towel-folding. Coffee-drinking. That's about it.

  Posted by Robin at 10:20 PM | Comments (5)

  July 21, 2007

  Have I Mentioned in the Past Five Minutes That I Love it Here?

  Just in case I haven't, let me refresh your memory:

  We fricking love it here!!!

  The fact that I just said "fricking" instead of lobbing a string of obscenities should indicate exactly just how good things are. Nearly six weeks post-move, things are as good as we'd hoped. Better, even, which is why I'm going to belch up the three things I love most about living in Prettytown at this exact moment:

  1. I'm in the backyard! Our current backyard is quite a bit smaller than the one at the crapshack. However, this one isn't overgrown with jungle vines left by the previous owners and impervious to all defoliants. It's also not lousy with neighbor dogs and their excrement, nor is it surrounded by drunk, angry neighbors and the excrement that routinely came out of their mouths. Loudly. Need I remind you of the night we were playing outside while listening to one of the neighbors teaching his toddler the proper use of the word "fucktard"? Not only am I outside, but tonight B. cooked on the grill while I sat on my ass in a resin chair and Clara Jane played. Since I had nothing better to do, I started thinking and reminded, lo! There is a resin table in the garage! Let's set it up and eat outside! And we did! And not once was our food poisoned by the DDT truck!

  2. B. met another neighbor today while working in the yard. She's an older woman who lives at the end of our street. She told him that she's been wanting to catch us outside since we moved in because she wanted to talk about the Nascar stickers on the back of my truck (shut up, you fucking snobs). Turns out she goes way-back with racing, back when it was bootlegging criminals who would smoke while racing and occasionally stop driving to beat the holy crap out of each other. You know, the good old days. How involved was her family? The press box at the nearby track where they're running a Nascar Busch race right now is named after her late husband. B. told her that the next time she sees a blue truck with Missouri plates in our drive, she's got to stop by because my dad might want to run away with her to listen to her tales of the glory days of racing. And, you know, the moonshine.

  3. This is a two-part lovefest. Not only do I love it here, but I love the internet. Earlier this week I staggered into the blog of a local woman named Robin. Another stay at home mom with a toddler. Similar taste in music. Also in the process of moving, although she only moved about 40 feet into the house next door. Did I mention that she lives five blocks from me? That made it super-easy to do some stalking today, especially since she was having a yard sale. I think B. took up with her husband before I'd even said, "Hi Robin. I'm Robin. I'm here to stalk you and maybe buy your cool little convection oven/rotisserie that would totally rock my rumpus room." Before it was all said and done, the kids were playing while the four of us compared tattoos, discussed the importance of letting the freak flag fly, debated the merits and effects of different shades of Manic Panic, shared the best places to buy coffee beans, and fawned about just how fab it is to live here. Because it is.

  On a different topic, I love the "restore session" function on the Macbook, which made this post possible despite an ugly user-induced crash.

  Posted by Robin at 08:40 PM | Comments (5)

  July 20, 2007

  Friday Shuffle - Subterranean Homebound Blues Edition

  I love people. I do. If I didn't, I wouldn't have thrown that big auction last weekend, right? Right now, though, I'm a bit peopled out. I've only had one day this week where I didn't spend time with at least one friend (Tuesday, when Clara Jane and the unholy beast that had morphed from the piles of unwashed laundry begged me to stay home). And that's good. I can say in all honesty that I have the best friends now that I've had in my entire life. I love that my life is such that I can spend a lot of time with my friends. I'm lucky that this shirt applies greatly to my life, and that I get to do the coffee-drinking and slacking with good people.

  I think the past few months have officially caught up to me, because this week, when not out having a hoot, I've wanted to do nothing but sequester myself in the basement's rumpus room. Don't you dare come down here, either. I've got a fridge full of Vitamin Water and beer, nine hours of History Channel shows about doomsday, the antichrist, and Hell on the DVR, half a box of shortbread Girl Scout Cookies, and knitting to do. That's a lethal combination, my friends. Lethal to whoever makes the bad decision to attempt interaction with me while I'm rumpusing.

  I've done some knitting, which I have barely done since we moved:

  

  Pretty, but methinks trouble lies ahead:
  
  My yarnball is puking knots, which I'm undoing as I knit. If you interrupt me while I'm doing this, so help me, I'm taking you down with those wee little needles.

  I used up all my nice with the auction last week. Julie, however, has so much nice that she'll never run out. This week she gave me a copy of the photo I so wanted to buy at the auction. And I would have, too, had Count Sassy not outbid me by $100. Instead I bought a purse and the notecards in the upper left corner. Yeah, you feel pity on me for having to settle for a gorgeous, hand-made one-of-a-kind purse and notecards so pretty I'm considering gluing them to a wall in the rumpus room so I'll have something to stare at while rumpusing and eschewing humanity.

  I feel a little guilty about Julie's gift, as I made quite a display of whining and moaning and threatening to send large Minnesotans (I know a few) to Count Sassy's door to collect what I felt was rightfully mine.

  I whine when I don't get what I want. Therefore, I have grounded myself to the basement to wrestle with yarn puke-knots. Seems fair enough.

  (Julie also took some beautiful photos of the quilt she bought at the auction, made by Granny Viv. They're awesome, of course.)

  Next break in History Channel's Satan Week marathon, I'll shuffle over to the bar for cookies and beer. No, you can't have any. I'm not sharing today.

  1. The Hardest Button to Button - White Stripes(Yes! For I, too, have a brain that feels like pancake batter.)
  2. Maybe Sparrow - Neko Case
  3. The Consort - Rufus Wainwright
  4. Get Up - REM
  5. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots - Flaming Lips
  6. Twilight - U2
  7. The Swimmer - Sleater-Kinney
  8. Head On - Jesus & Mary Chain
  9. The Whole World - Outkast
  10. Saturn - Stevie Wonder

  Posted by Robin at 07:30 PM | Comments (8)

  July 19, 2007

  How to Mess with My Head, If You Want

  It's not hard to mess with my head. I mean, it's already pretty messed up to begin with, especially on days like today when I forget to take my brain pills.

  You know I have a weird thing about dates, right? I have an astounding memory for dates (although I rarely know what the date is). Today, for instance, is the one-year anniversary of that big storm that knocked the fuck out of St. Louis last summer, a situation that I handled not well.

  The fact that a cold front and storms rolled in today in a similar manner as they did one year ago this evening? That's not good for my head. Not at all.

  Turning on my beloved History Channel this afternoon and seeing that today's Modern Marvels is about the Viet Cong tunnels, which was the subject of the book I was reading while exiled by the storm? That didn't do me much good, either. Not that it stopped me from watching it.

  I was almost afraid to start dinner tonight, because we'd just finished eating dinner a year ago when the power went out, so if we eat dinner tonight then MY GOD, THE POWER'S GOING TO GO OUT FOR A WEEK!!!

  I'm obviously not taking enough medication.

  Posted by Robin at 05:32 PM | Comments (7)

  July 18, 2007

  I'm Blogging in Public

  I really don't have anything to say, other than I'm blogging in public for the first time ever. I love you, Macbook, even though I had to break down a few days ago and buy a book with the word "dummies" in the title.

  I'm actively starting the change to WordPress that I've been threatening since last fall. After using it for the Boob-Ha-Ha site, I'm hooked. Unfortunately, my host has other ideas. We're working through it and I'm hoping that within a week or so, this-here blog will have an all-new look. I'm fed the hell up with the current design.

  I'm at CooperElla, sipping an iced hazelnut mocha, watching Clara Jane play, and pondering what to get for lunch. Medeterrainian salad with chicken? Roast Beast sandwich? I so hope this is the biggest delimma I face today. Yesterday's biggest delimma: chasing stupid little Murphy's ass around the neighborhood first thing in the morning. Again. This escape was all my fault, as I trusted her to walk the few feet to the gate, accompanied by me, without running down the block after imaginary bunnies. Stupid me.

  I'm pretty sure my new neighbors refer to me as "that fat gal who never wears a bra and runs up the street screaming at her poor dog." Could be worse. I could be "that jackass with the Rebel flag in the front window".

  Speaking of neighbors, through the magic of the internet I found out there's another Robin with a toddler who lives a few blocks from me. I think we're the same age and we have the same bathroom and the same taste in music. Amazing. I moved to a town where, apparently, I already lived. She's not fat and I bet she doesn't run braless down her street, screaming at her stupid dog. She lives on the nicer side of the street.

  I just taught Clara Jane how to make an L7 with her thumbs and forefingers. I'm the best mom ever. Or, I will be once I teach her the words to "Pretend We're Dead".

  Lunch delimma? Solved. Med. salad with chicken, and an admonishment from the kitchen about my penchant for ordering the same thing all the time. I don't care. I'm glad to be back to normal. Especially since "normal" now includes blogging-anywhere capabilities. Why I waited so long to join the 21st laptop-operated century, I'll never know. Oh, right. The money thing.

  Speaking of techology I dont need, B. procured a Palm Treo for me last week. A nice surprise, but I'm not convinced I'm busy or important enough to merit that much electronics in one wee machine. He bought it from a friend for $65, and I'm pretty sure it was done wholely as a preventative measure to keep me from uttering the term "iPhone" one more time.

  Oh my word. I just watched a father admonish his son, who's probably younger than Clara Jane, for playing with a pink tutu. Enforce those gender roles, Papa! Granted, he's an older dad. He probably would have had a stroke if he'd seen Clara Jane in her skirt, pretending to play baseball about an hour ago.

  You know, one of these days I should just live-blog an afternoon at Hartford or Cooperella. Not today. Raquel just walked in, bearing beautiful sock yarn for me. There's knitting and visiting to be done. And another iced hazelnut mocha to drink, for sure.

  Posted by Robin at 11:56 AM | Comments (8)

  July 17, 2007

  The Redneck Jungle Lives!

  And you thought the stupid neighbor stories would end once I moved!

  This isn't the story, but it relates. A few nights ago I took my first drive past the house we loved and almost bought. First of all, we learned a few weeks ago that the entire block where that house is located is graduallly sliding into an old mine. Bullet? Dodged. But what I saw the other night ... Do you know what those usurpers who bought the house out from under us have hanging in the front window of that beautiful house, next to that beautiful mosaic-tiled fireplace? A goddamn motherfucking Confederate flag.

  Part of me feels absolutely sick that some ignorant fuck is defacing that beautiful house, which happens to be located next door to an African-American family. Another part of me feels like it's just another sign that we got the house we're supposed to have. I don't know how that logically connects, but that's what it feels like.

  I was also a little bit afraid that some of our former neighbors from Breckenridge Hills had followed us to Prettytown. I was pretty sure that hadn't happened, as I hadn't had any 3 AM dune buggy wake-up calls.

  But this isn't about our new neighborhood. I actually have new news from the old neighborhood. Aren't you just dying with glee about that?

  One of my favorite things about the old house was the ginormous 100+ year-old maple tree in the front yard. Yeah, after losing two trees in the backyard in a matter of one month last fall, I had a healthy fear of The Behemouth, even though it shit sap all over the house and our truck in the spring and speared our roof with a branch a few months ago.

  Okay, so maybe the new owners have the right idea. They're putting the beast out of its misery. Which saddens me. They could have just invested in a good trimming, like we did when we moved in, instead of destroying a huge, otherwise healthy source of shade, oxygen and squirrel-housing. I got the same sick feeling when B. told me about the tree-cutting that I got when I saw that Rebel flag.

  How did he find out about the tree being removed? Our old neighbor called us. You know, the one who would call nightly and scream, "Hello?!?! HELLO?!??!" when we'd answered, like she didnt' actually expect anyone to answer her call. Well, I guess that's understandable, too. When we saw her number on the caller i.d. Saturday afternoon, B. and I both scattered and hid like we expected her to climb through the phone.

  B. called her last night out of some misplaced sense of social obligation that I don't understand at all. He told me to make sure I was busy when he returned her call so he'd have a legitimate excuse to keep me from having to talk to her. I informed him that I had a legitimate excuse for not talking to her - I completed my social obligation to her the day I moved and therefore have no need to talk to her ever again. GOODBYE?!?!?!?

  On her message she said she was calling about a "new neighbor issue". I assumed the issue probably pertained to the skin color of the new residents. Remember, this is the neighbor who recently said, "Might as well move. This neighborhood's only fit for blacks and Mexicans." Well, the new residents fall into one of those categories, so it seemed logical that she would be calling to scream at us about this situation.

  No, that's not quite it. Seems that the new owners didn't hire the most experienced of tree surgeons to bring down The Behemouth. In the process, they cracked the massive limb that hangs over the neighbors' house. Tree Surgeon won't continue the job without a huge increase in liability insurance.

  Our old house's new owner? Expects our neighbor to pay this insurance.

  B.'s dying to go over and see the treem and possibly a fist fight between the new residents and our old neighbors. Me? No way. I know that seeing that tree decimated will break my heart. Besides, today a big limb fell off the tree in my new front yard, and I'm pretty sure it's a warning. Again, not logical, but I'm going to heed it.
  

  Posted by Robin at 02:40 PM | Comments (4)

  July 16, 2007

  Grrrrr

  I've twice tried to blog about the past week. Twice, I've had crashes. I'm starting to not like Safari. Or I'm thinking that Moveable Type and Safari don't get along.

  Too tired to see if the third time really is a charm. The short of it: last week involved a blog software meltdown, a truck break-down, a 10-hour loss of electricity, three days without phone or internet (aside from wifi stolen from the church across the street), four days without satellite, the humiliation of having a perfectly good check get declined by a company that couldn't stop an employee from stealing personal info and selling it, a visit from The Cuz, and raising a whopping $2440 via the Boob-Ha-Ha auction for Wendy's 3-day walk.

  Okay, so that last part pretty much compensates for an otherwise super-shitty week. I know I've thanked everyone who donated goods and money, came to the party, spread the word, and such, but really, you can't be thanked enough. This was amazing. Truly.

  I had said that if we raised $1000, I'd dye my hair pink. Give me a month to do that. I want to do it when Wendy shaves her head. That's right. She's met her $5000 fundraising goal and is going to do the 60-mile walk with a bald head.

  And now I'm tired. Too tired to deal with Safari. A little blue from the post-goodtime-let-down that I always get. But that's a good reason to be let down. My house is in great shape. I got to spend time with The Cuz. The truck, utilities, check, and everything got resolved relatively fast. And we raised an amount of money we never anticipated for a good cause.

  Now I'm returning to a life of changing my crappy blogging software and knitting.

  Posted by Robin at 08:21 PM | Comments (4)

  July 15, 2007

  Poppymom Lives!

  No, I didn't desert this-here blog because of all the fervor over at Boob-Ha-Ha. That's only part of the reason why I've been incommunicado. Having a week-long crash of my blogging software didn't help. Neither did being without power for 10 hours on Monday. Or without DSL for three days. That would be a flimsy excuse, since I was able to "borrow" the wifi signal from the nearby Catholic church. Yes, I'm sure I'm on my way to Hell for that one. Being without a phone and satellite didn't affect my blogging, and neither did having my truck break down on Monday morning. Or having 20+ people in my new house last night. Or raising $2400 in the Boob-Ha-Ha auction.

  Basically, I didnt blog because of the software, which we fixed today after dragging our auctioned-out carcasses out of bed at noon today.

  It's 7 PM. Time for lunch. Tonight, I think, I'm going to start migrating my blog to new software. Then we'll be back to normal. Promise.

  Posted by Robin at 06:55 PM | Comments (4)

  July 06, 2007

  Friday Shuffle - Now Actually on Friday Edition!

  Not that there's much to say, since all the action's over at Boob-Ha-Ha. Donations keep rolling in. I keep being astounded. Can't post them fast enough. You know the drill. It's a pretty awesome drill, all told.

  How did I live before I got my MacBook? This auction would be really, really hard.

  Clara Jane and I had a lovely, normal day. We went to the market and the coffeehouse up the street. I'm still blissed about how errand-running can be done in less than an hour now. Clara Jane's been a bit of a terror this week, and having a low-key day with some extra attention did us both some good. We made a Splenda birthday cake for my diabetic dad, which she decorated with lots of non-diabetic nonpariels. We don't know how it tastes yet, but it's definitely pretty. This is what she told me while we were making cream cheese frosting: "When we give Grandpa his cake, I'm going to lick frosting off of it and get it on my face. Then everyone will laugh and call me Frosting Face. Huh huh huh ... It'll be so funny!" Yep, she's definitely inherited our sense of humor.

  Tonight, I'll be leaving the house when the hours are in the double-digits to babysit. I can't remember the last time I left the house after, oh, 7 PM. If all goes well, the babysitee will be asleep and I'll have a peaceful night of Boob-Ha-Ha stuff, knitting, and such. I took a nap. I'm ready.

  I wish I could shuffle from my MacBook, but with the busyness, there isnt' one single song on this machine yet. Can you believe that? So off we shuffle to Beatrice, the elder Apple product of the household.

  1. Good-Hearted Woman - Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson
  2. Ride Along - John Hiatt
  3. The River - Bruce Springsteen
  4. Only in Dreams - Weezer
  5. Hell Yes - Beck
  6. Underneath the Bunker - REM
  7. Tennessee Homesick Blues - Dolly Parton
  8. There is an End - The Greenhornes (which is, like, the third time I've heard them today)
  9. When Something is Wrong with My Baby - Sam & Dave
  10. Get It Get It - Scissor Sisters

  Posted by Robin at 07:23 PM | Comments (7)

  July 05, 2007

  1 New House + 2 Blogs = Huh?

  I honestly don't know which end's up, but in a good way.

  Are we unpacked? Of course not. You don't want to hear about that, I know. I don't want to write about it. We're getting there and making good progress. I just want it done.

  Murphy escaped yet again. This time, she used a depression of mud to her advantage and dug her way under the gate. I'm starting to think she might be more clever than we've given her credit. Next step: doggie straight jacket.

  Oh, I have a Mac now. B. and I rarely go to the mall, but it seems like that's where we wind up every Fourth of July. I guess it makes sense, in my warped way, to celebrate America with an annual blatant foray into consumerism at its worst.

  Did you know that one of the St. Louis malls has side-by-side Apple and Lush stores? It's like the marketing gurus said, "Hmmmmm ... Robin makes a whopping four figures a year. How can we best part her with all of them at once? I know!"

  So we celebrated Independence Day by liberating me from Microsoft and desktop oppression. I now have a wee little MacBook who is just the lightest, sweetest little piece of electronics ever. I also have a wealth of bath bombs. I've been advised to not use my two puchases simultaneously.

  The timing's right. I intended to buy this little machine as a housewarming gift to myself for a long time. Like, seven years. That's a long time spent waiting and hating on Bill Gates. Worth it, though.

  Besides, I'm maintaining two blogs right now. For God's sake, please tell me you've been to Boob-Ha-Ha. Don't make me badger you into going again.

  I had a lovely Boob-Ha-Ha opportunity land square in my lap today. While squatting lunching at CooperElla (It's not squatting if I provide lots of free advertising, right?), the editor of the home section of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch stopped by, hoping to find some crafty types to test drive some Martha Stewart-branded scrapbooking gadgets. Which we did, immediately turning them into things other than scrapbooking gadgets. Beqi and I took the opportunity to accost this poor woman with our current pet projects - Boob-Ha-Ha for me and Craftaostra for her. We shall see if we get the big local media shout-out.

  In the meantime we got a cool local indie media shout-out from Cranky Yellow. Funny thing is, I hadn't heard about them until today. And when I got home, there they were on Boob-Ha-Ha! Sure, probably not a coincidence, but that's fine.

  I'm just blown away by peoples' willingness to spread the word and donate. Oh my God! Now that the auction items are starting to arrive, both physically and via photos, I'm ... speechless. Honestly speechless. The only thing I can say that even comes close to expressing my amazement at the willingness and generosity people have shown in this fundraiser is this: from now on, when I catch myself doubting the goodness of humanity on the whole, and wondering if there's any good left in the world, I'm going to make myself look back on this experience. Even if that means holding onto the spreadsheet with all my donation info and reading it every few months. There are a lot of extremely giving people out there who, when you ask for one, will gladly give you six. Or maybe that's just the kind of people I know. Either way, I'm glad. And holy God, it's starting to hit me that I'm going to have to dye my hair pink in the near future, because at this point I think we're going to clear $1000 if each auction item only brings the minimum bid.

  Oh boy.

  Did I mention that in addition to all of this my parents and grandparents are going to be squatting staying at our house this weekend? You know that's always fun, and I'm sure the blog fodder will finally stretch beyond Murphy escape stories and Boob-Ha-Ha promos. Next up: House Full o' Hillbillies Stories!

  Posted by Robin at 07:31 PM | Comments (6)

  July 03, 2007

  Yo! Button it!

  First and foremost, the first auction items are up at Boob-Ha-Ha, courtesy of Beqi Clothing. Thanks, Beqi!

  Second, you like buttons, right? Of course! That's why I used my hopped-up, mad dezign skillz to make some, well, pretty shitty-looking buttons. Feel free to download them, add them to your blog, Myspace, Twitter, whatever to link to www.boobhaha.com. You have three mediocre choices:

  

  

  

  If anyone asks why they look askew, it's because I'm organizing a big-ass tit auction, dammit!

  Speaking of buttons in much nicer tones, a few weeks ago both Hilda and Dixie bestowed the Rockin' Girl Blogger honor upon me. I've been too much of a distracted asshat to acknowledge it until now.

  

  There are rules involved: "If you get tagged, grab the pretty badge up top (because you deserve it!) and then list five women bloggers who are TOTALLY ROCKIN’."

  Problem is, I've been really lax about my blog-reading of late. As in, I barely have time to come up with a pithy excuse for not reading, much less actually read. My bestowing of the honor will have to come later.

  Hey. Maybe I'll auction off my five honors. Yeah ...

  Posted by Robin at 05:03 PM | Comments (3)

  July 02, 2007

  Boob-Ha-Ha

  You know you wanna know what it is.

  Posted by Robin at 10:18 PM | Comments (1)

  Things That are Funny. Things That are Not.

  Funny: When two unrelated blog entry topics come up in the same search on my log. For example, today there was a search regarding long-haired wiener dogs that originated from Pekin, Illinois. Not only does this make me think of my former neighbor-dog who once got a long-haired wiener dog stuck on his wiener but also of the time Clara Jane explosively vomited all over the Pekin, Illinois Wal-Mart.

  Not funny: The fact that I'm this close to painting the windows in Clara Jane's room black. Not because I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes and I have to turn my head until my darkness goes. I've been taking my medication and that's not a problem anymore. No, I'm going to have to paint her windows black because the two large ones in her room face east. In lieu of room-darkening blinds, B. opted to attach dirty bedsheets to the windows with potato chip bag clips to her windows. I guess the two weeks of filth and grime that accumulates in a 3-year-old's room, in addition to a week's wear on the sheets merits a good washing. Long story short, with nothing but mini-blinds to shield her eyes from the sun, I woke up at 6:30 AM to the sound of my dogs going totally apeshit crazy because Clara Jane was in her room, wide awake, and drumming.

  On a normal morning, she wakes up, gathers a pile of books, and goes back to bed to quietly read. Why today had to be Drumming Day, I have no idea, and I don't find it funny.

  Funny: The phrase Boob-Ha-Ha. You might learn what it means tomorrow.

  Not funny: Well, pretty much everything's funny once you say the word "boob-ha-ha" a few times.

  Posted by Robin at 06:36 PM | Comments (4)