kdiddy.org

Man, I failed at this venture pretty quickly, didn’t I? Well, I’m not ashamed to own up to that fact and get back into it.

I am a little grumpy this evening because I’m out of Diet Dr. Pepper and I need to just own up to the full-blown addiction I have to that stuff. Also, the baby’s school has been seemingly relentless with needing stuff (valentines! valentines box! project for the 100th day of school! baby picture! treats!). And I just can’t deal right now. Everything is converging with work and school and it’s so frustrating to come home wanting to slow down and having to just keep going, with my schoolwork and taking care of my kid and whatnot.

By the way, I think, for the 100th day of school projects, the school had something in mind involving those classic art supplies cereal and/or pasta and Elmer’s glue and posterboard. That’s not how we roll in my house, though. When I remembered tonight that he needed his project tomorrow, I let out a hearty, “Oh fuuuuuuuuuuck,” then went rummaging in the kitchen. We’re not big cereal eaters and I didn’t think 100 stale flax flakes would really cut it. So I plopped the baby down with some sketch paper and bingo markers and he made 100 dots. It’s like the perfect illustration of the looooonnng ellipsis of my brain. Or something.

Onward.

1. The totally sweet card that my kid made for his dad at school today, because he knew his dad would like it. Sniff.

2. Making my co-worker laugh really hard.

3. The MamaPop pool of pictures from Vegas.

4. The trip that made those pictures possible.

5. For once, NOT going on and on about how great the Steelers are and just holding that to myself for now. 😉

1. A cold ginger ale on an upset tummy
2. Buddies who talk you down
3. Watching an episode of The L Word after missing 3.5 seasons and wondering what the hell is going on
4. Nag Champa
5. Hines Ward

Today is supposedly the most depressing day of the year, but I have to say…I’m not feeling it.

I worked and had class today, so it was easy to momentarily forget about all that was going on. Today is, of course, Martin Luther King Jr. Day. The baby asked us the other day if we celebrate MLK and it took me a minute to know how to respond. I mean, we don’t celebrate it like we do other holidays. There isn’t a feast or decorations associated with it, but it is one of those days that we pause to acknowledge that there isn’t just one day for compassion and understanding and battling ignorance, but that we must continue to do so every moment. The husband and I explained this to the baby and told him about other people who have spoken out in the face of injustice, whose words and actions, even their most controversial, we must continue to wear as armor in the war against hate and oppression…Malcolm X, Angela Davis, Nat Turner, Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass.

Tomorrow, of course, we inaugurate Barack Obama. As the hours of George W. Bush’s presidency tick toward their last, I find myself reflecting a lot on how I feel about him as a person. Many times during the last eight years, I said that I hated him, that he made me furious, that he was evil. But I watched video of him the other day in which he answered questions about his presidency and how he felt about it now that it was coming to an end. I realized that I didn’t hate him. I listened to the way he listed the things he regards as “disappointments:” the lack of weapons of mass destruction, never capturing Bin Laden, plastering up that “Mission Accomplished” sign, the extent of the devastation of Katrina, his “inheritance” of an economy in recession. It occurred to me that he doesn’t understand what happened. Thousands and thousands of people died. Whole families were destroyed. These are not disappointments. These are catastrophes that would haunt most people until the end of time. But W., I think, is simply unaware of the reality that we live in under him. He is an unwitting tool of some project steeped in privilege and entitlement, a project that is hopefully gasping its last breaths.

Ultimately, W. is responsible for his actions as president, but the blame (and my rage) can not rest solely on his shoulders. I hope that it will be the legacy of a way of thinking and behaving, that there are people who simply don’t matter, that will die as the books close on W.’s term.

Hope.

It’s such a strange thing, isn’t it? It’s so thrilling but carries with it such an uneasy feeling. Obama doesn’t owe anyone anything and the task of making things right at this time is a job surely far too immense for a couple of measly presidential terms. Honestly, he’s proving a bit too centrist for me and some of his cabinet appointments make me very uncomfortable. But I can wait and see.

That’s my son, right after I let him push the button that cast our vote for Obama and the whole world might as well reside in that blue iris, the same way the President-elect can see the universe in the eyes of his daughters. We have your back, Barack. Show us what you we can do.

With such heavy things pressing on our minds, it’s wonderful to turn to something where the stakes are considerably lower.

Indeed, the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to the Super Bowl. Plenty has been written about how football fans, particularly Steelers fans, are an inexplicably rabid bunch. But I would argue that the anti-football folks are far more rabid. Several seemingly innocent interactions online yesterday quickly turned ugly when folks felt the need to inform me that I am stupid and/or insane for liking football.

I can understand the kneejerk defensiveness. Football is mainstream and we all know how Americans tend to react to behavior that is outside the mainstream. But oddly enough growing up and living in artistic and intellectual circles, my devotion to the Steelers was seen as, at best, a quaint remnant of my blue-collar roots or, at worst, a hint toward my true nature of hideous yinzer Morlock, something to be shed along with my grating and offensive accent and my scandalous desire to simply have fun rather than devoting every waking moment to the elusive goal of enlightenment. This belief that artistic or academic interests are mutually exclusive to football fanaticism is just…stupid.

And besides, I can wax the hell out of some eloquence when it comes to the Steelers and what they mean to Pittsburghers like me. I just know that opening the door last night and hearing the cheers of unbridled joy of people who aren’t even in the game is an amazing experience. And I know that celebrating their Super Bowl XL win on my normally silent main street is something that will flash in my mind right before I die. It’s not really The Win, you see. It’s getting the chance to see people who you normally pass on the street and maybe grunt at just…happy.

I never really thought about it until I started writing about advertising a lot on MamaPop, but I guess I’m rather grossly interested in the stuff and how it drives and marks our culture. Finding old commercials on YouTube shocks me back to childhood just the same way that a familiar sound or smell does. It’s an instant memory of a simpler period in life, when everything was kind of magical and I still felt…safe.

There are three Christmas-themed commercials that I’ve seen nearly every year for as long as I can remember. It’s kind of embarrassing to be so warmed by something as silly as a television ad but, heh, I have no shame.

Anyway, they are the Corona “O Tannenbaum” ad, the Folgers “Peter Comes Home for Christmas,” ad and Eat n Park’s “Christmas Star” ad.

I started this post the other day. Go ahead and read through and then I’ll meet you down at the bottom.

As I mentioned the other day, my semester is finally over. It’s a relief, sure, but I find myself uneasy about my final grade. But there’s nothing I can do about it now, so let’s discuss parties.

The baby had his birthday party this past Saturday and it was rather awesome. The Oaks Theater is available for parties so we booked that and showed one of the baby’s favorite Godzilla movies for him and his buddies. It was especially fun for the kids since they got to talk and giggle and wander around the theater during the movie. A taste of the forbidden! The guy at the Oaks also wrote a happy birthday message to the baby on the marquee, which was really cool for him to see.

It was a small group. The kids in the baby’s class don’t seem too big on birthday parties. But that was fine. Less noise, less stress, etc.

So, I highly recommend the Oaks for special events. I will note that it was a tad pricey (not surprising, really) and I’m thinking this will be our last big birthday party for awhile.

Of course, the baby started feeling crappy right as the party was ending and spent the rest of the weekend fighting off a nasty head cold.

I made cupcakes for the party, continuing in my deranged domesticity. Amber requested a picture of a cake wreck and I’m happy to deliver.

Those are chocolate cupcakes with mint icing, as per the baby’s request. I bought this pastry bag set the other day and it’s one of those crappy home baker sets, not a professional one. I don’t harbor any delusions that I am hiding a cake decorating superstar, but the pastry bag experience was rather frustrating. This is as far as I got the other day.

Anyway, yes, cupcakes. I went at them with the pastry bag set not really looking to make them fancy, but it just seemed easier to ice them with that than a butter knife or whatever I normally use. Not so much. But they tasted awesome.

AND I got my final grade for grammar and it’s an A minus. I’m not really sure how I pulled that off but I will so take it.

The title of this post refers to a story I was going to tell you about this yinzer baby shower I went to on Sunday and how I cleaned house during the loathed shower games. But it’s left me.

In fact, I am totally sapped of writing energy. I had an article due on Monday and I guess that and the usual end-of-semester meltdown have rendered me useless. I’ve been sparing you and subjecting the readers of MamaPop with my semi-coherent rambling. Lucky them.

Aaand I’m out of nothings to say. Instead, I’ll leave you with this clip from Sade’s Lovers Live DVD, which we started to watch last night and were stunned by it’s awesomeness.

Started this last night…

So, first things first: how are you guys? I’m okay. I’m very tired right now. But at least tonight I don’t have to talk myself out of going on a stabbing spree. That was last night, before I remembered that, once a month, my normal, bearable contempt for my fellow humans turns into BLINDING STABBING RAGE FLAMES! FLAMES! ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE! I did teach the baby some new and inventive ways to use the word “motherfucker” in a sentence, so I can’t say I haven’t been productive.

Speaking of the baby, he turned to me earlier and said, “Daddy makes you unhappy and poor.” I laughed heartily and then gave him a raise. He’d earned it…the cute little motherfucker.

Anyway, yes, the subject of this post. I’ve gone wildly Stepford the past few weeks. I think it all started when I said to my mom, “You know, I made some pretty tasty pumpkin puree and froze it. I could make the pumpkin pie this year.” Apparently what is an offer in my world is a throwing down of the gauntlet in the world of my mom and my grandmother. They’ve given me multiple opportunities to back out. Whatever, man. My pie’s going to be fucking awesome.

The last time I made cookies, I noticed that my cookie sheets were pretty gross. I’ve had them about 2.5 years and they’ve seen plenty of mishaps. I’ll still use them, but for more dirty jobs…say, catching whatever bubbles out of a casserole dish. So I bought some new cookie sheets and some of those nifty Silpat thingies so I don’t have to struggle with tearing parchment paper into strips to fit the sheets. Those came yesterday today.

So, to go with my upcoming pie baking and Cookie Baking Extravaganza ’08, I bought some aprons. Oh, yes.

WE ARE THE ROBOTS!

This darling thing and another Christmasy one that reminds me of one that my mom used to wear came from Boojiboo on etsy.

I’ve been on a small etsy/handmade binge lately. My buddy Cristina and I went to the Handmade Arcade a few weeks ago. I got a few Christmas gifts and a few things for myself, most notably this purse:

It’s by these folks, Ray-Min, and I absolutely adore it. It’s made out of vintage upholstery fabric. Know what that means? SCOTCHGARD!

I’m also rocking this necklace from etsy seller HouseThatCrowBuilt:

Jen posted it to We Covet a few weeks ago and I snapped it up immediately. Admittedly, that’s kind of a dick move since I write for that site, but whatever.

To top off my wifey-ness, I made a Bundt cake the other night. A Banana Caramel Bundt Cake to be exact. The bottom (top?) burned a little bit. I don’t know why. But other than that it’s pretty awesome.

It’s the little things. I get out of work at 3 p.m. today, which is awesome, but I noticed this morning that the day or two before a vacation I get very, “Who gives a fuck?” about getting out of bed on time. Like, we’re going to be off of work and school in a day so why bother going now? Clearly, I have some work to do in the whole maturity area. Also, the Boulevard of Allies reopened the other day and our commute is no longer a gigantic joke.

I should probably go take some valium now, right?

There was nothing on TV this morning so I started watching I Love Lucy and while I was watching it, I was looking at Google Reader and there were TWO Lucy-related secrets today. Weird, no?

A friend of the husband’s was in town last night to play records at AVA and he was supposed to stay the night at our house. So, I spent pretty much all day cleaning. Our house is always pretty messy and dusty since we never really have time or energy to clean. The husband is, of course, out of commission with his hand so I was on my own and had a pretty sobering moment when I realized that I couldn’t possibly clean the whole house myself and had to determine which parts were the nastiest/most potentially embarrassing.

About 15 minutes after I finished cleaning the bathrooms and was sprawled out on the bed panting, the husband came home from work and announced that he had to poop. After he emerged, I whined, “I don’t know why you always do that right after I do the toilets.”

“That’s why I don’t like cleaning,” he replied. “It’s a Sisyphean effort. You’re Sisyphus.”

“Yes, and you’re this huge rock that shits all over my squeaky clean toilets.”

And then…THEN. The husband’s friend called and said that he was meeting up with “a friend” in town and would be staying at a hotel, after all.

GAHHHH

Well, at least the house is clean. I guess. Whatever.

In continuing in my Suzy Homemaker routine, I’m baking some homemade Nilla Wafers. They’re my dad’s favorite cookie and his birthday was Friday, so I’m making some for him. I hope they don’t suck.

I was reading about photic sneeze reflex because I sneeze nearly every morning when I wake up and it’s been like that for as long as I can remember. Essentially, I am allergic to being awake and I think I need to parlay this into a doctor’s excuse from, like, life and stuff.

So, dude! I’m turning 30 in less than 48 hours. I feel like I should…I don’t know…squeeze in a couple ill-advised relationships and get some high-interest credit cards and binge drink in the next few days before all of that stuff magically switches from charming anecdotal material to outright stupidity.

I was thinking yesterday about how I’m pretty reserved on this blog. On my LJ, I used to rant often and extensively about anything that was on my mind. I really don’t do that here at all. There are a lot of circumstantial reasons for that, mostly me being busy with work and school and life and just not having the time or energy to sit down and write just for recreation.

I think it also has a lot to do with me just not really knowing who’s reading this and just feeling kind of protective of what I put out here. I will admit outright that I’m insecure and while I definitely feel myself giving less of a fuck about other people’s opinions of me as I get older, it’s a hard habit to break when you’ve been like that your whole life.

And, of course, I have my professional reputation and the reputation of the people close to me to think about. I’m probably even a little too careful about censoring myself in the fear of me doing something that I love to do, namely writing with an (mostly) interactive audience, affecting my life and career. I often worry that my profanity could cause problems, but I honestly don’t think so.

Anyway, I think the space on the internet that is most “me” these days is Google Reader. I subscribe to an obscene number of sites. I’m like Johnny 5 in Short Circuit. I need input. I would read or otherwise absorb information about almost anything all day if I could. One of my favorite things about Google Reader is sharing stuff that I find interesting and reading the stuff that my friends share. I’ve been thinking recently that it would be really fun to post just a list of stuff that I share in Reader on here once a day, since while I don’t always have time to update here, I’m always reading stuff.

In order to do that, I feel the need to sort of re-introduce myself to those of you that only know me from this space and didn’t interact with me on LJ. I’m sure it’s no surprise that I’m a registered Democrat, and I remain so despite having serious qualms with the party and their pussyfooting. I’m actually far more to the left and I wouldn’t bat away any accusations of being, ideologically, a socialist. It’s just how I get down. I will admit that my misanthropy seems to clash with a lot of my politics, but I don’t know. I dislike most people, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want them to have health care or an education or just to be able to live a good life.

I’m not exactly pro-Obama. I like the guy. I think he’ll make a decent president and I hope he wins. I do have serious qualms with his stance against gay marriage and the telecom immunity bullshit. My respect for his obvious intellect and compassion does not erase the fact that I know that he is a politician and is in it to win this thing. But I’m choosing to view his more questionable moves as tactical means to an end.

I really dislike McCain and Palin and just the whole MO of the GOP at this point in time. I know why millions of people will vote for them, but I’ll be frank and say that I think that’s a dumb move.

So, all of that is to serve as a sort of disclaimer that a lot of what I’ll be posting here from Reader will be anti-McCain/Palin and, you know, I’m sorry if you have a problem with that but please don’t see that as an invitation to hit me back with some anti-Obama stuff. Not only is most of that just plumb moronic, but it’s directed at the wrong person.

Besides, I’m turning 30 soon and I see that as my pass to start telling people to get the fuck out of my face with that bullshit.

So, to start off, here’s a selection of what I’ve shared this week so far:

As Abstinence Pledges Falter, A New “Middle Class Morality” Emerges

Economic miracle, environmental disaster

Domestic Violence Awareness Month and the Hudson family tragedy

Irony Overload: Hottie Reality Show Contestant Complains About Sexism

How Media Deregulation Kidnapped Natalee Holloway

Ancient mummy hair suggests drug use (aka ancient motherfuckers be trippin’)

Hooman gets in, goes away, returns with fishez

Excessive water consumption is b.s. My comment on reader: “word. i hate drinking water just to drink water and i’m glad i don’t have to feel “guilty” for not doing so anymore.”

Sandra Schultz Newman and some bullshit

Giant Candy Corn Still for Sale. My comment on reader: “they’re still for sale because that shit’s fucking stupid. then again…I’m actually surprised they haven’t shown up on my street yet.”

Sarah Palin, proud socialist

12 Abandoned Houses, Homes, and Ghost Towns

I should also point out that a LOT of what I share first comes to me via Angela who might possibly be a more voracious reader than I am. She finds the best stuff and she needs to be hired by someone who will pay her obscene amounts of money to do so.

With my 30th birthday quickly approaching (17 days!), I find myself in some sort of nesting mode. Sure, 30 is just a number but if all things go according to the loose plans that we have for life, this next year is going to be a pretty big one. So, in a way, I’m preparing to give birth to a new phase in life…to be all corny and new age about it.

I’m taking baby steps in getting our house in order. I’m taking care of long-overdue tasks, like getting new glasses (which I’m going to go pick up in a little bit eeee!). I’m trying to dig myself out of a stress and depression induced slump in which I totally let myself look like I was stressed and depressed. I bought some new clothes and shrugged my shoulders at the larger size and am also subscribing to the philosophy that a little lipstick can make you feel a lot better. I’m still no big fan of makeup but I’ll indulge it more often.

Am I sounding like a Cosmopolitan issue yet?

Anyway, another big thing is that I’m actually keeping a calendar. I have a pile of abandoned day planners and good intentions. But the calendar on my iPhone is actually the right tool for me. I make note of any event that I need to remember, thereby lessening the strain on my poor brain.

I knew that I had my annual gyno appointment today at 9 a.m. and got myself all prepared. The baby slept at the mother-in-law’s house last night since he is off school today, making our departure much more streamlined. I got to the doctor’s office a good five minutes before my appointment and went to check in, but the receptionist couldn’t find me on the books. That’s because my appointment is TOMORROW at 9 a.m.

I really, really had to restrain myself from asking if I could just have my appointment then anyway, since I was there and ready to face the stirrups. But I guess they don’t cushion the schedule for nitwits who show up 24 hours early.

No matter. I went to CVS and bought Claritin in the hopes of reclaiming my head from the depths of these horrendous allergies. I keep hoping that they’ll just go away but I’ve been hoping that since, like, February.

By the way, if you’re in Pittsburgh and looking for a haunted house to visit, you can go ahead and skip ScareHouse. The wait to get in ranges between 1 and 4 hours and it really is not that scary or even very interesting. There were some parts that were alright, but I really don’t know how it got all of the accolades it did. Tom Savini’s various haunted houses were much better and you’re probably better off going to whatever cheap local thing you have near you.

As messed up as it is, vacation really stresses me out. Well, actually being on vacation is fine, but immediately before and after vacation is a really sucky time for me, I’ve found. Next week, we’re going on vacation with my dad. (One of the messed up “advantages” of a divorce is the multiple attempts at normal family activities.)

So, right now I’m dealing with both post and pre-vacation stress.

I worry about getting stuff done around my house and the various projects I had planned for this summer that I’m probably not going to get to. I worry about how I’m eating and the admittedly unhealthy goals I set for my 30th birthday. I REALLY worry about work and making sure I take care of everything there before taking off. And I’m just generally annoyed at the drama surrounding the vacation with my dad, which has opened up a ridiculous amount of issues with my family…over nothing, really.

It all makes me not want to go anywhere ever, which is messed up since I’m entitled to a break now and then. And I can’t help but feel like no one in my life gets just how much I need a break from everything. I need the people who care about me to be like, “Yes, Kelly, take some time. It’s totally fine and I promise that we will not make any attempts to make you feel bad about it or even give you an inkling that we are anything less than completely enthusiastic that you are taking some time off.”

Alright, I’m whining. I know this. I think I need more fiber, which explains this:

The stuff that looks like hamster food is Nature’s Path Smart Bran, featuring 13g of fiber per serving, and the container underneath has a few dollops of Stonyfield Farm Lowfat Vanilla yogurt. Alternative names for this meal are “Hippie Hippie Hippie Patchouli,” “Move, I Have to Poop,” or “I’m 90 God Damn Years Old.”