kdiddy.org

I am on some like anti-NaBloPoMo business. I am, however, doing a photo-a-day “challenge” (sarcastic air-quotes because it’s not like it’s a triathlon or something) over on yon InstaGram, which I’ve recently become addicted to because oh, hello, 2010. Nice of you to show up.

Backing up just a bit, I would like to inform all of you that I am now 34 years old as of October 31st and am now very mature.

Also on October 31st was Halloween, which was kind of anti-climactic since trick-or-treating was postponed. But having it on Saturday was kind of nice since I didn’t have to rush home from work. My kid went as D.M.C. from Run D.M.C., which a few people actually got, despite the fact that he needs to work on his ability to look hard.

Anyway, moving on… Read the rest of this entry »

Hurricane Sandy is having the side effect of extending Halloween. The city has postponed trick-or-treating to Saturday evening. I can’t say that I’m upset, since I really like Halloween and am happy to be able to fit a few more specific activities in while it’s still technically the season. We haven’t watched many scary movies and our pumpkins are still waiting to be hacked and anthropomorphized. This past Saturday, our neighborhood had the annual parade and the baby debuted his D.M.C. from RUN D.M.C. costume.

He obviously needs to work on his intimidation skills.

Unfortunately, he didn’t win any prizes for his costume. I think it was just too obscure (*coughhipstercough*).

Friday evening, while the baby was at his piano lesson, the husband and I plopped on the couch to unwind. I turned on the TV and was pumped to see that Teen Witch was on. You would think that after nearly 12 years together, there wouldn’t be much that would surprise me about the husband. But I was shocked to learn that he had never seen this masterpiece. But I guess it kind of made sense since, thinking back, all of the girls in my class were always obsessed with that movie and how absurd it was, while all of the boys were fairly ignorant of its existence. I guess something called Teen Witch doesn’t really appeal to boys in their early adolescence? Weird.

At first, the husband was pretty dismissive, but I advised him that he needed to treat this event like the paradigm shift that is. Life can be broken up into to two periods: before Teen Witch and after Teen Witch. There’s just so much wonderful in that movie. Like, where does Louise even find those frumpy clothes to begin with? Why is her little brother…like that? Oh, holy wow, the inappropriate harassment from her English teacher? How Brad is just not quite Tom Cruise but tries so hard to squeeze it out of himself? Remembering how most of the girls gave the side-eye to Louise and Brad’s trip to the abandoned house? NO red flags, Louise? None? And why the hell would you ever take your shoes off in a place like that? The quintessential synchronized dance sequence at the prom? And the kind of completely amazing original soundtrack? And how watching it now I think the whole thing is actually just a metaphor (of course) for teenage drinking and/or drug use?

As we were watching it, I said, “There’s this scene…I can’t remember if it already happened or not. No…wait…here it is. Just so you know? This is the greatest thing ever.” And if you’re familiar with Teen Witch, I think you know that I’m referring to this:

After that final, “Top THAT,” from Polly, the husband and I sat in silence for a moment before he finally whispered, “That was awesome.” Halloween truly is the most magical time of the year.

My kid is a source of many wonderful quotes that range from adorable naivety to developing wisdom to just plain adorable and entertaining. In the past 24 hours, he’s had two that I need to document so that I don’t ever forget them.

The husband’s band was featured in the Tribune-Review on Sunday, so we had a couple copies on the dining room table. Last night, while the baby was doing his homework, he called out to us, “Hey, some guy is planning a comeback in Afghanistan?” The husband and I were both silent for a minute, trying to figure out what he could possibly mean. “What are you talking about, dude?” we asked. “It says here in this newspaper that some guy named Al…Kuh-eee-duh? Is doing something in Afghanistan.”

You know, that guy Al. Al Qaeda. (Note to self: brush up on current events.)

This morning, on the way to the bus stop, the baby and I were talking about the basketball team that he just joined at school. He was excitedly chattering away about the PE teacher who coaches them. “He’ll do this thing where he announces the starting lineup just like at a real basketball game. When I came out, he said, ‘AT 4 FOOT 9, FROM THE BRONX…!'” I chuckled, and the baby continued, “Pfft…I’m barely 4 foot 8!”

I recently lamented on Twitter (twit-mented? lamentweed?):

Literally every weekend for the past month or so has been outstanding. Downside is that they’re making Mondays increasingly brutal. #fb

— kdiddy (@kdiddy) October 14, 2012

This past weekend was similarly excellent, though not because of all of the events going on, but because of the lack of them. For the first time in many weeks, the husband, the baby, and I got to be together from Friday evening all the way to Monday morning.

While the baby was at his piano lesson Friday after school, the husband and I went on a little date to Fuel & Fuddle. We met up with the baby and my mom afterward and then headed to Squirrel Hill to see Samsara, a documentary that I’ve been anticipating for years. I had told the baby going in that this was a different kind of movie: there wasn’t any dialogue or a story, per se, just images of life and the world for the purpose of giving you something to think about.

SAMSARA Teaser from Baraka & Samsara on Vimeo.

He did have a few questions of the, “Where is that? Why are they doing that?” variety during the movie and I tried to get him to save them until after. A film that quiet and atmospheric needs a similarly serene and receptive audience. Overall, however, he handled it amazingly well and even had some really interesting thoughts afterward.

(The fact that a 10-year-old was able to experience it that way should have made the grown people sitting behind us feel that much dumber for talking the whole time and drunkenly getting up and falling down several times. If you’re over the age of say, 15, and you can’t sit still and contemplate life for at least a little bit, you need to just put your eatin’ dress on and stay in the house. We have shit to do out here.)

During our furious discussion of the movie afterward via iMessage, Frank had told me that he felt very grim after seeing it. I can see why, there were some very unpleasant things portrayed. But even the shots of landfills and meat factories didn’t upset me the way that they might normally. I just kept seeing images of chaos and our sometimes precious attempts to impose order on it. It made me feel very serene, like nothing that is happening is somehow surprising or out of turn. Not that we should take that as a reason to be uncaring or cold or seek change where it is needed. But that familiar panic that ordinarily wells up inside of me when I think about all that there is to think about didn’t show up. And it can stay gone, for all I care.

I think this moment is really what did it for me:

Who knows the story of his life and his tattoos? But it seems safe to assume that some chaos, good or bad, led him to mark his body, his method of asserting control where he could. But none of that is relevant here, as he nuzzles his infant daughter. She softly touches his face as the world suddenly becomes very small, a population of 7 billion reduced to 2 in a moment that is repeated over and over again everywhere.

The absence of Big Exciting Things to do this weekend meant that my world got to be wonderfully small for a few days. On Saturday, we went to Trax Farm to re-up on our decorative gourds (motherfuckers). The baby tried to tell us that he was too old for that stuff and after I pieced together the shards of my shattered heart upon hearing of this omen of adolescence, I pushed him into the car with the promise of, “FAMILY TOGETHERNESS AND FUN TIMES GODDAMMIT!” But after we drove past all of the pretty foliage and once we got there and that unmistakeable potpourri of kettle corn and animal poo hit him, he warmed right up.

Adopting Captain Morgan poses on pumpkins and whatnot.

Earlier in the week, he came up to me and said, “Want to do something together this weekend?” And then I died. He does a ton of stuff with seemingly everyone else in his life, while he and I seem to have a strictly business relationship sometimes. Of course, we have moments of enjoying each other’s company, but I realized that very rarely do he and I ever do anything just the two of us. I was trying to think of something to do and we kept shooting down each other’s suggestions. I thought about trying to find a cooking class, since he often wants to help me cook which is hard to do in our tiny kitchen, but I couldn’t seem to find any that were for kids and parents. Finally, I said, “Do you want to cook something together?” He liked that idea and it seemed like the least stress-inducing option. We wouldn’t have to go anywhere or spend any money, and he had an eye on a recipe for mini deep dish pizzas.

So, yesterday I set everything out for us and let him do mostly everything, only helping when he asked me to. “This is so much fun!” he said. And it really was. Plus, those little pizzas were so good. He also helped me to make some applesauce from the bushel of apples that we brought home, which was especially exciting since he got to use the cool apple peeler.

Today, the world is its usual size and its attempts to bring order to everything seem so silly. I can’t wait to get back to my cozy little microcosm.

The husband and I are at an age where we’re attending weddings fairly regularly. We had three this year and have at least one on deck next year. I can’t say that I’m too irritated about it. I really like weddings. In general, everyone is high off of the love fumes of the event and has a great time.

Of course, such blessed events are always so much more special when the marrying couple is dear to your heart. On Saturday, one of the husband’s bandmates, Preslav, married his long-time girlfriend Erin, and we were on hand to witness the union.

An interesting fact about the husband’s band is that all three members have been with their significant others for 12 years and all three initially got together with said significant others within six months of each other in 2000. The husband and I got married in 2006. Adam and Emily got married in 2009. We were thrilled when Preslav and Erin announced last year that they were finally going to make it official in 2012.

Pittsburgh Track Authority: the luckiest guys alive since 2000.

While the husband and I have known Preslav and Adam since Jesus was a boy, the better halves hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know each other until Pittsburgh Track Authority really started to take shape. Then Emily, Erin, and I had a chance to interact more often. We had the common bond of being in long (LONG) term relationships from a fairly young age and supporting in every possible way our respective dudes through their musical odysseys. Getting to know all of them better made me realize that this little group of people was pretty special. Musically, I think they’re on the edge of something big. Personally, it’s always so cool to realize that you’ve stumbled upon some folks who get you in ways that you didn’t even know you needed to be understood.

The husband and I arrived at the Mattress Factory about a half hour before everything was supposed to begin bearing a speaker for the DJ and cookies for the reception. We mingled for a bit before finding our seats. The place looked amazing and as the ceremony began I was blown away by how beautiful everything was. Preslav and Erin were gorgeous and their actual ceremony was short enough that I didn’t get a chance to start sobbing inappropriately like I usually do. I watched these two soulmates promise themselves to each other and grinned at how nervously excited they were. Preslav fidgeted with Erin’s hands and Erin let a few tears escape.

The reception was just one of the best I’ve been to. Everything was so relaxed and just felt like a really special party. Preslav and I noted that everyone looked so nice and I commented that it was probably one of the best looking weddings I’ve seen. Our friend Jim was DJing and he’s especially skilled at knowing just what to play. It was so refreshing to be amongst a group of people who weren’t nervous or shy about dancing, but who were just happy to be there celebrating this wonderful event. Dance music nerds have the most fun always.

The cops came by several times to warn us about the noise but I was glad that the music was loud enough to drown out the fact that I was singing along to everything, especially when Jim played one of my favorite songs ever:

I would never claim to be wise about love and relationships. Each one is so different and has its own unique set of challenges that it’s impossible to even glimpse the contents of anyone else’s heart. But I know what it is to be in the presence of the real thing. I can often step away and see it in the husband and I, and I could definitely feel it all around us on Saturday. If I had to take a guess, I’d say that the secret to making love work is to grab that moment and never let go of it, allow it to always be present in plenty and in want, in sickness and health, in good times and bad. If you follow that, you can never go wrong.

Right after Erin and Preslav were presented for the first time as husband and wife, Preslav fumbled for a second and asked Erin which way they were going. Erin replied, “Straight ahead.” We all laughed at the cute blunder. But to me it was the perfect way to take their first married steps.

Straight ahead. And if you get lost, just ask the amazing person walking right beside you.

Congratulations Erin and Preslav, October 13, 2012

This weekend was so great. So, so great. So great that I’m not even that bitter that I don’t have off of work today like seemingly everyone else.

As I mentioned on Friday, we were going to be attending the VIA festival. I was worried that we were going to be too tired to rally for all of the events, but it turned out that we had almost non-stop fun for nearly three days.

I was late to the dance workshop at the Shadow Lounge on Friday because I had to take the bus over after work. Even though I left my office a few minutes early, the bus was late and I wandered in when there was only under an hour left. But I got to see the husband, the baby, and the sister-in-law, who was in town for the festival, work on their footwork.

I joined in for a bit and felt pretty confident about my new dance skills until Manny, one of the guys leading the workshop, came into the center of the floor to demonstrate what footwork looks like when done well and at full speed.

It was, um, humbling.

We hit up Buffalo Blues for (a somewhat disappointing) dinner before heading back out to see a pop-up arcade. This was a raw, storefront space that had been taken over by Babycastles. The baby got a huge kick out of it and it was cool to see people creating their own video games right then and there. The baby lamented that I don’t let him play games like Call of Duty and such. I consider myself very liberal in what I expose him to via media (read: if you’ve written an indignant blog post about parents taking their kid to an R-rated movie, I was probably the object of your outrage), but there are a few things that I’m just not comfortable with, and some of the first-person shooter games creep me out. When he’s still kind of little and sweet, I just can’t take watching him pretend to be a hardcore assassin. But the pop-up arcade was inspiring because he got to see people making fun games that weren’t whatever is most heavily marketed. Got a fun idea for a game? Make it! Don’t wait for someone to sell it to you.

I could tell that the baby was really happy to be out doing stuff like this with us. He’s intrigued by the fact that we regularly go out to hear music and stay out very late and I hope that his desire to someday do that with us remains intact until he is old enough to do so. In the meantime, he was off to spend the night at my mother-in-law’s house. As we put him in the car, he very sweetly called out to us, “Have fun at VIA!” Ugh, he’s amazing. And the VIA folks need to make that into a commercial.

The musical acts that night were going to be in the old PNC Bank in East Liberty. Zuzuka Ponderosa was great, but we were all pretty unimpressed with SSION. Things reached some kind of weirdness apex when none other than Girl Talk took the stage wearing a Steelers uniform. He played some noise for about 10 minutes tops while some seizure-inducing strobe lights kept up. People in masks handed out and threw Arby’s roast beef sandwiches to the crowd before a confetti blast went out. It was bizarre.

Tiger & Woods got us interested again, though, and Spinn and Rashad took things to a frantic level of fun. I was completely drenched in sweat from dancing so hard. We headed over to the after party to hear Santiago Salazar. We were dancing until 4:30 in the morning. When we finally left, the temperature had dropped at least 20 degrees and it had started to rain. So Pittsburgh. So lovely.

The next night was the highly anticipated performance by Moodymann, who is one of our favorites from Detroit. Nearly all of our friends were out, which made it that much more special.

The hotties from Pittsburgh Track Authority. I’m partial to the one in the middle.

Moodymann played hot and sexy and fun house music and displayed his legendarily bizarre personality, taking the opportunity to talk briefly about the Steelers and hand out cups of Hennessy to the crowd.

He was sitting over near the door when things were wrapping up and I had to go and tell him how much fun I’d had during his set. He appreciated my tshirt, which was from the roller rink in Detroit where he throws a skating party during the festival there. While he chatted with the sister-in-law, I talked to his daughter, who was one of the sweetest girls ever.

One more after party, before we dragged our selves back home at the relatively reasonable hour of 3:30.

Something to add to your list of universal truths? Pizza, even a weird hipster Domino’s pizza, tastes amazing at that hour.

I love that I danced my butt off to musicians from all over the world in old banks and odd little speakeasy-type places and then found myself chomping on nachos at a Steelers game less than 12 hours later.

The sister-in-law and I, wearing a combined total of 57 shirts, 8 pairs of pants, 20 pairs of socks, and three Terrible Towels.

Pittsburgh is just so weird and wonderful.

These past two weekends are causing a bit of deja vu.

Last year, on the last Sunday of September, I ran the Great Race, then the baby had his soccer pictures, then he had a soccer game, then he went to a Pirates game with my dad, and we celebrated the husband’s birthday. This year, on the last Sunday of September, I ran the Great Race, then the baby had his soccer pictures, then he had a soccer game, then he went to a Pirates game with my dad. We celebrated the husband’s birthday a few days earlier.

Last year, on the first Saturday of October, the husband and I were out suuuuuuper super late at one of the VIA events, then got about 30 minutes of sleep before going to the baby’s soccer game at motherfucking 9:00 in the a.m. This year, on the first Saturday of October, the husband and I will be out suuuuuuuper super late at one of the VIA events, then get about 30 minutes of sleep before going to the baby’s soccer game at motherfucking 9:00 in the a.m.

Argh. These two weekends are shaping up to be traditionally equal parts exhilarating and annoying and tiring. However, last year, while lamenting to our partied out friend about our son’s early morning athletics, said friend replied, “I FUCKING LOVE SOCCER!” which was kind of the most perfectly slurred thing to say at that moment. I hope he does it again.

Anyway, if you are in the Pittsburgh area, you should definitely come out to some of the events happening as part of the VIA festival. It’s been going on for the past few days and some supremely cool things will be happening this weekend. We’re taking the baby to the juke + footwork workshop at the Shadow Lounge this evening, then the husband and I will be checking out some music and visuals at the old PNC Bank in East Liberty. Tomorrow night, we’re going to see Moodymann, one of our Detroit faves, which I’m just so, so excited about.

I can’t overstate how fantastic it is that something like this goes on every year in Pittsburgh. If you have some time to kill, check out some of the events. A lot of them are during the day and are all ages, so bring the kids!

So, you know how I mentioned in my last post that I was nervous about running the Great Race? I totally downplayed just how freaked out I was. Friday night I was getting really worked up and thinking that I should just not go. Especially after we drove from around Frick Park to downtown on the way home from a relative’s house and I thought, “This is really faaarrrr. Shit. It took us awhile to drive this distance. What kind of crazy person runs this?” Saturday I was home by myself most of the day, which was good in the sense that the husband and the kid didn’t have to be subjected to my panic, but bad in the sense that I really got down on myself.

I’m not going to be able to finish. Everyone there is going to be a serious runner since it’s a longer distance. I’m going to collapse on the side of the road in tears by mile 2.

I had only gone the full 10k distance once on a treadmill and I had had to walk and stop quite a few times. I was not at all confident that I would be able to go the full distance on the road and the controlled environment of my gym.

But Sunday morning came around and I found myself lined up with about 5,000 other people in Frick Park. I nervously stretched and danced around to keep warm and reasoned with myself.

If I have to walk a little bit, I’m not going to get upset about it. I will finish this.

The starting gun went off and we slowly funneled our way to the start line. It took me about five minutes to finally get there. As I started running, it seemed like absolutely everyone was flying past me. I kept feeling my legs trying to speed up to catch up with them, but I kept telling myself, “You can’t keep up with them and that’s okay. You need to just keep going at a pace you can maintain.”

I felt like I was going pretty slow, but I had put together an awesome playlist that was the perfect tempo to keep me at a reasonable pace. I was surprised to see the first mile marker since it didn’t seem like we had gone that far. When we got to Carnegie Mellon, the second mile marker appeared and I was not ready to collapse. I knew that the halfway point would be smack in the middle of the Pitt campus and if I could make it that far, I would take a walking break if I really needed to.

Close to the halfway point, it started to rain and I realized that I was feeling pretty good and might actually run the whole way. I was wearing the hat that had come in our race packets, and I was so glad that I did since it kept the rain off of my face. I also used it to prevent myself from looking too far ahead and getting worried about how much farther I had to go. Instead I looked at the feet of the people in front of me and matched their steps to the beats of my music. It was kind of hypnotic.

I missed the 4-mile marker entirely, but looked up when we got close to Duquesne because a band was outside cheering everyone on. There was a guy on the other side of the road shouting and cheering and letting us know that we were at mile 5 and only had a little over 1 mile to go.

Mile 5? Whoa, this is almost over.

I also knew that we were past all of the hills and it would be downhill and then flat the rest of the way. At that point, I realized that I could totally make it the rest of the way running.

So I did. I just kept going.

The rain started coming down harder and I laughed when “Just the Two of Us” by Bill Withers started playing in my earphones.

“I see the crystal raindrops fall and the beauty of it all…”

I guess the proverbial runner’s high was kicking in. I felt great and proud of myself and everyone else that was splashing toward the finish line with me. I couldn’t believe how willing my body was to continue. At the Great Race 5k last year and during practically every run between then and now, I had let my brain tell me how I was too heavy to run so far and that I couldn’t finish without walking some. But here I was, just doing the damn thing.

Point State Park finally came into view and I literally could not believe it when I saw the finish line. I ran through and trotted into the muddy area where everyone was meeting up and wolfing down water and bananas.

My legs felt like they were vibrating and when my mom found me I could tell that my eyes were wide and that I was babbling that I had ran the whole time.

I don’t think I can even begin to explain how excited I was to achieve such a goal, even though I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to. I think I’ll let my soggy grin tell that story.

P.S. The title of this post comes from one of my running playlist mainstays, “Running Up that Hill” by Kate Bush:

So it seems like the tea tree oil treatment is helping my face situation, though I think it might have something to do with the fact that it requires me to wash my face more. I don’t know.

I was really hoping to embed that Proactiv commercial featuring Puff Daddy where he says that it “moisturizes my situation…it preserves my sexy,” but apparently he took some kind of legal action and deprived the internet of that joy. Asshole.

The oil itself has a really strong scent that makes my eyes water, which gives me that satisfying, “It hurts therefore it must be working” experience.

It’s also a super effective contraceptive method. When I put it on, the husband goes, “AUUUUGGGHHHH WHY DO YOU SMELL LIKE THAT?”

Speaking of the husband, his birthday was yesterday. The baby and I gave him a book of Kurt Vonnegut interviews and some bougie popcorn. I helped him to devour one of the boxes of Fleur de Sel Caramel and guuuuuhhhhhhh it was so good. We’re going to the mother-in-law’s tonight for his official birthday dinner. I made these Vanilla Chai Cupcakes with Cinnamon Buttercream Frosting. I hope they’re good.

I’m running the Great Race this weekend and I’m really nervous about it in a frustratingly non-specific way. It’s the 10k, which is a longer race than I’ve ever run before, and I’ve only run a 10k distance exactly once. I think I’m scared that I won’t be able to finish and am dreading the shame that I will inflict upon myself if that happens. Sounds healthy, doesn’t it? But it’s clarifying for me why exactly I don’t do too many races. They kind of ruin my weekend. Aside from having to get up at an ungodly hour on Sunday, I have to physically coddle myself on Friday and Saturday. Usually by Friday evening I’m ready to stay up really late and whatnot. But this weekend I have to spend prime goofing off hours sleeping and hydrating. I really wish the husband was into running so that we could do it together. Woe!

The other morning, when the weather was all, “And now…AUTUMN!” the baby and I stood in his room digging through a bin of last year’s school clothes. We were looking for a pair of pants that would fit. His 10 slims were now too short and too tight around the waist. At some point over the summer, my beanpole had gone and acquired a little meat for his bones finally. Those of you who saw him eat, or “eat,” as is more accurate, when he was a toddler will know what a relief this is. I think he consumed a total of 500 calories from the ages of 2 to 4.

But the 10 slims were all that we had and as I looked at his face contorting as he tried to determine if he could stand to wear a pair of them all day, I realized that he was just going to have to wear shorts.

“Well, there are a couple of ways you can play this,” I told him, as we walked to the bus stop, his chicken legs exposed to the brisk, dewy air. “You can pretend to be one of those people who claim that the cold doesn’t bother them and who wear shorts and tshirts in the middle of winter. Like, act super tough. Or just tell everyone that you have an extremely mean/irresponsible mother who made you wear shorts today.”

I forgot to ask which scenario he went with.

The baby is in fifth grade and in his last year at his sweet, little elementary school. I’ve noticed already that the homework is tougher and takes longer and there’s more of it and it makes me sad. The world is demanding more of him and his time now, time that the husband and I have to relinquish so that he can make his way. We don’t have as many spare hours in the evening to spend together because there’s work to be done.

He used to be mine to share with the world as much as I saw fit. Now he’s the world’s to share with me when there’s time.