Monday, November 30, 2009

'Tude

 


"Mom, you are so fucking gay." - Cecilia, age 10 months.

Wedding Creepers

Mom and I went to a bridal show yesterday and had some good girl day fun. I met the florist of my dreams, Jay from Golden Gate Studio. My friend Erin used to work for him, but I would hire him even if that weren't the case. I also met some potential photographers. I also spent some time dodging some really creepy DJs and tuxedo rental guys. For some reason, some tuxedo rental salesmen are also self-proclaimed wedding planners, and assure you that they can help you with finding invitations and planning your honeymoon. Really? I mean, some of these guys wouldn't make the guest list if they were my relatives. Why on earth would I pick them to boss me around when I pick out my invites? One guy was standing in the hotel ballroom shouting in capital letters, "WHO'S GETTIN MARRIED! COME GET YOUR FREE STUFF! HEY, YOU, COME OVER HERE! THAT FREE CAKE ISN'T AS GOOD AS THE FREE STUFF I GOT!" Gross.

I was being stalked by a DJ once. I e-mailed his company JUST for pricing info, and wound up on their e-mail blast and calling lists. The worst part was that this retarded DJ wouldn't give me pricing info in an e-mail or over the phone. HE WANTED TO MEET IN PERSON FIRST. That's fucking creepy.

I know what he looks like from his website and I've seen him lurking around dark corners at bridal shows. I ignored him yesterday when I spotted him standing near a really cool photobooth. I wanted to talk with the photobooth guy longer, but when I realized he was part of the DJ's network, I scrammed.

Would you really pay this guy to hang around your wedding? I'm just sayin'...







Thursday, November 26, 2009

A Quiet Grace

We had TG (Thanksgiving) dinner at my future sister-in-law's condo today. She just moved in and it already looks great. We drank lots of wine and ate awesome food, and I didn't even eat too much of it. No holiday over-eating guilt here!

Maybe it's the wine talking, but I am actually feeling a little guilty tonight because I never verbally stated the things for which I'm most thankful. I guess I was waiting for some sort of "Grace" ritual before TG dinner, but it never happened. Everyone started eating, and I just sat there peevishly waiting for someone to speak up. (Peevish! HA!) After like, five full minutes, I picked up my fork as if I hadn't been waiting for anything. I just really like some good old Grace before a holiday meal, but I didn't want to interrupt everyone. I just didn't want to be that guy. Not with my fiance's family, anyway.

So here I am, alone at my own dining table. Beside my laptop is an unopened can of Diet Coke. Before I crack it open, I'll Grace it up real nice.

This year, I am thankful for the intangibles in my life: the people, the love, the health, etc. Like most folks, we haven't had a fortunate financial year. We do the best we can with what we have, and our lives are full and happy despite tough times. James and Cece make each day meaningful and important. I am most thankful for my two wonderful, exhausting, impossibly cute kids. This is Cece's first TG, and I'm thankful that it was such a nice one. She had a great day. I'm glad she has a loving family that gave her such a nice first Thanksgiving. I waited my whole life for Cece, my daughter, my beloved, and she is everything I always hoped I'd have. I am also incredibly thankful for my James. OMG I love him like no mother has ever loved a son. To borrow a quote from the pudgy, intense woman from The Real Housewives of New Jersey, "we're thick as thieves!" That's me and James. Real thick. I love the shit out of him.

And also, and of course, and obviously... I am thankful for Gene, and my parents, and family and friends, and Gene's family, and the Kircanskis, and the good health this year has brought us. Gene's pepere was really sick this year, but he made some miraculous comebacks. He tricked us! I love him so much. I hope he has another eighty-eight years of good health, because I really like it when he's around. He's old, and sometimes he's wobbly, but he always plays with James and Cece, no matter how sick he feels. He's always so nice to them. He's so nice to everyone. He's probably been nice to every person he's met in the last eighty-eight years. My god, I'm crying. I am going to open my Diet Coke.

MMM that first sip feels so good!!

Ok, well, lastly, I'm thankful for you, for reading my blog. So far, I think that's just Erin... so Erin, if you're reading this, thanks. And have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Monday, November 23, 2009

50-something and Fabulous

Before the day is officially over, I'd like to publicly wish my mother a happy birthday.

I love you, Ma.



The Imperfectionist

I've been considering joining my town's chapter of The MOMS Club International.

Yes, you read that correctly.

I went to their open house last week, and felt really nervous about it before I arrived. Here are some reasons for my nervousness:

1. I'm young(ish)
2. The technical term for my socioeconomic status is "broke-ass"
3. I don't have a college degree
4. I'm unmarried
5. My kids sometimes wear dirty socks

I pictured the members of the MOMS Club to be older, wealthier, and, well, classier than me. Need a visual? I shamelessly wear un-hooded sweatshirts that used to belong to my dad. Need another? I let my son look at the poop in his diapers because he always asks to see it. Whatever, it's fine with me.

I guess my point is that I'm an imperfectionist, and this even applies to my parenting style. I love my kids probably more than any other parent in the world, but I really believe that kids (and moms) need some slack.

Thankfully, there are apparently tons of other moms adopting a similar perspective. They're calling it Free Range Parenting. Although I wouldn't use that term to describe my specific (or unspecific) parenting style, I think it's back-to-basics approach is fresh, sensible, and ironically progressive.  It's liberating to know that I'm not the only mom who thinks that baby leashes are kind of fucking lame.

I mailed my application to the MOMS Club today. If I'm accepted, I hope the other moms will give me an opportunity that I did not give them: I hope they get to know me before they make assumptions. I have a lot to learn.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Little Black Book

While I was watching TV the other day, I reached into the end table's drawer to find the remote control. The remote, of course, was not there. I was surprised to instead find a small black book bound in textured leather with a gold emblem on its cover. I instantly knew the book looked familiar. I remember seeing it in my mom's desk drawer when I was a kid. I remember thinking it looked magical.

I didn't have the same sentiment when I saw it in my own drawer the other day. I was a little pissed. My mom just moved and made me take back the hundreds of books she was storing for me for the last few years.  My house is small, so I'd been frusturated about the space I had to give up to accomodate all those books. To be honest, finding the book she'd stashed in my drawer was a little annoying. Until I read it. Then I decided to shut the hell up.

The book: The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.
Who is this guy and how does he know so much about me?
Of course, I'd seen his name before, listed after one of his quotes on a greeting card or maybe on some weird inspirational thing (can't think of a good example?)  Out of context, his quotes are kind of vague and don't pack much punch. In the book, they're beautiful and insightful.

This is one of my favorite passages:

"Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgement wage war against your passion and your appetite. . . . Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas."

Ummm... how did he know that about me?
Also, why am I being so self-centered about it?
More on K.G. later.
I'm looking forward to an early night.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Privates

I was reading my friend Erin's blog a moment ago, and it got me thinking about my blog vs. my life and if it will affect my privacy.

I seriously believe that my mind stopped maturing around age 17. I have been a teenager for eleven years, and possibly forever. I therefore have total disregard for my own privacy.

But, thanks to Erin, it has occured to me that maybe I should approach this blog thing with some caution.

I'm going to a wine tasting tonight (location omitted!) and I will think about it over a few sips of vino and --hopefully-- some free food.

Will report later.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Performing Art

James was about 22 months when this video was taken.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Thanks, Ed.

Headline art credit: Edgar Degas, my favorite painter.

Measures of Central Tendency

For the first time in my life, I’m taking a math class that I really like. It’s Math 139: Contemporary Topics in Mathematics. Contrary to my inital assumption, we do not sit in a circle discussing new mathematical breakthroughs. It’s actually just like any other math class, except it includes relevant applications to its lessons.

Today’s lesson was in Statistics, and it dealt with a term that intrigued me: Measures of Central Tendency. I’m no mathie, but I thought the term was enticing. It actually refers to finding the mean, median, and mode of a set of data. I remember mean, median, and mode from early math classes, maybe in elementary or middle school. To recap: mean is just the average of the numbers, median is the number in the middle of the set, and mode is the number that occurs most frequently. I remember thinking as a kid, Who cares about median and mode?!? The mean is the only important number, anyway. And, in most cases, it really is.

Today I learned a different perspective. Say, for example, a class scored a bunch of different grades on an exam, mostly in the 70’s and 80’s. What if one student scored a 22? If the class was small in size, that stupid 22 would throw off the class’ average score, therefore largely misrepresenting the data. A better way to represent the class’ performance would be to find the median, which would likely be in the mid-70’s.

That phenomenon got me thinking about what interested me in the term Measures of Central Tendency, and how it applies to life.

In math, the median is useful because it is resistant to extremities in data: for example, that stupid 22 doesn’t really matter if you look at the median grade. Therefore, calculating the mean is sometimes a waste of time, when you could just find the median. Finding the median is always easy because you just look at the data’s center, and pick the number in the middle. And life should always be that easy.

If we applied mathematical reasoning to our lives, we might find that sometimes analyzing and calulating is unnecessary because the middle is oftentimes more telling. All too often, we think about our lives in terms of extremities: the breakups, the deaths, the mistakes, the births, the big wins, etc. If we focus on what happens in the middle of these events, the small daily stuff, we’ll find where life is lived. That is the data which should be measured because it tells us about our central tendencies. Look to the middle to find the answers. Make sure the small days in your lives are well-lived and well-remembered.

Starting Point

Hello! Welcome to my blog.

I have been undecided about which blog site I like better: blogspot or wordpress?
I think this site is much more user-friendly. We'll see. For now, I'll have dueling blogs until I figure it out. My other blog is http://www.michaelamae.wordpress.com/

Thanks for visiting my site.

Cheers,
Michaela