I see you!

Friday, May 30, 2008

Isn't that the cutest, most precious little blob that you've ever seen?!

Today we met our new doctor, who has the mouth of a sailor, and must have felt comfortable enough around us, to use the word "shit" at least 20 times. Finally, a human doctor. The reason our baby is so blob-like, with no visible body parts, is because I have an oddly shaped uterus that didn't feel like participating with the ultrasound. And because of the combination weird shaped uterus, and narrow pelvis, its been both advised and settled upon that I'll be having another c-section. This time without going through 20 hours of labor first, 12 of those being without pain killers (ouch!).

A strong heartbeat, and visible embryo dancing, has me feeling officially pregnant.

So, freaking, cute.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

My daughter Eleanore is so anxious to be a big girl. If she sees my wallet, even for a second, she screams "waldet-waldet-waldet", until I hand it over and give her the chance to unzip each compartment, and pull out every single card. Cute at first, but now more annoying than anything. I don't know how many times I've found my Sally card under the couch, or my drivers license mysteriously to have vanished. She does the same thing while I'm trying to put on my makeup. She gets in my lap, blocks my head sized mirror, and says "meekup, so pwetty" while running an old makeup brush that I've donated to her, over her cheeks. And like I said before, its super adorable... until I've got 5 minutes to finish getting ready and, where on earth has my eyeliner gone?! I look over at the kiddo, who has run off towards the hallway. Whats all over her face? *squints to see*... oh, there's my eyeliner. By this time, I barely have enough time to chase her down, cause a tantrum, and smear the remainder of my liner onto my upper lids. And you can forget about getting a clean face kid, the entire world will just have to know how horrible of a mother I am, letting my child draw all over her face with god knows what. Oh who am I kidding? They're too busy looking at all of my tattoos and my obviously un-brushed hair.


So. While there's nothing I can do about the makeup, I did stumble upon the cutest solution to the "waldet-waldet-waldet" problem. frankandme. While pouncing on etsy a few months ago, I came across "my first wallet". At the time, I simply thought to myself, "oh that is cute", favorited it, and pounced on. I rarely check my favorites, so by the time I do, its like I'm finding it for the first time all over again. And when I re-found my first wallet, I knew it was going to be well worth the $5.00, and Eleanore was going to love it. I bought it immediately. Ya know how sometimes when you buy something online, how you never get any kind of confirmation email, and you end up emailing them, trying to find out when you'll get your order, of if you'll get it at all? frankandme was the opposite. I got a super friendly convo from her right away, which was one less thing to worry about, and one more thing to look forward to seeing in my mailbox. Today it finally came!! I didn't hear the mail come at first, and was sad that maybe we hadn't gotten anything. Around 4:00 I checked anyways, for the heck of it, and to my surprise my mailbox was actually packed. Bill... bill... not-a-bill! Waldet-waldet has arrived! Oh and it was packaged so nicely too. It was probably the most pleasant package opening experience I've had in some time. And, AND, she included some super cute and adorable "Little Swipers". Which are like mini burp cloths, and so dang cute! These will come in super handy when new-baby gets here this winter. In fact I might have to purchase more of them. Because as I learned with baby Eleanore, you can never have too many burp cloths. Or ponchos. Or smocks. Or anything else that could, would, or should repel projectile baby fluid. Gross. But at the same time, awwww.
And speaking of new-baby. We'll be meeting he/she for the first time on the small screen tomorrow. I'll make sure to come back and post a picture of the adorable tiny blob.

From top to bottom:
-"my first wallet", by frankandme, $5.00- thats the one I bought :)
-"Little Swipers", by frankandme, $10.00.

The ants go marching two by two...

Saturday, May 24, 2008


So there I was, peacefully sleeping in, like I get to do on the weekends when the Mister gets up early with Eleanore instead of me, when suddenly I'm awaken by loud slapping noises and heavy breathing. I open my eyes, to see Christopher standing at the end of the bed, swatting himself repeatedly. "Whats wrong?" I ask. No answer, just more slapping. "What are you doing?", I pry. Still no response. I can tell it has something to do with some kind of bug. Or, a bugga bugga, as Eleanore likes to call them. After another 2 or 3 nagging questions, I finally get a one worded response. "Ants".

...Since when do we have ants? We've had scorpions in the kitchen. We've had giant tarantula sized wolf spiders in the bathroom. We have crickets, pill bugs, and pincher bugs everywhere all the time . But ants? They usually stay outside. So he opens up the closet, to find small, medium, and large ants swarming all over his clothes. They're not sugar ants. I don't think they're fire ants. What other kind of ants are there? Army ants... what do they do? Maybe that's the kind. Where did they come from and why are they there? Kitty Bomber has not been doing her job as bug exterminator. When I picture ants, I usually picture them invading a kitchen, or living in dirt. Not hanging out on my husbands collection of t-shirts. He sprayed around the outside of the closet door, to kill the ones that had wandered away from ground zero, and to keep the rest at bay. While he was kneeling on the ground they covered his legs. This he must not have felt, because when I cleared my throat and said "your legs are covered in ants", he freaked out, and started all over with the self slapping.

...Any ideas on what to do from here? Because as of right now, the plan is to take out every piece of clothing, re-wash it, and then poison the bunches with ant bait. I bet etsy user weirdbuglady would hate to stumble upon this blog.

From top to bottom:

The return of Hey Lady!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008


Long before ChristopherAndTia, there was another. An etsy shop that kept my hands busy, and my brain scrambling. There was a website, there were business cards, the whole shabang! After this past Christmas, things started to die down, and I got bored, fast. Not only bored, but discouraged (?) I guess. My items quickly got buried immediately after listing, and people were going more in the direction of fancy letterpress and gocco printed paper cuts. So I bundled up my sorrows, backed away from my paper loaded craft table, and took a long hauled, much needed break. My hours have been cut back at work, and I've found myself bored and in need of a creative outlet. The other day when I got back from swimming, I had made sales in both of my etsy shops. ...Both? I hadn't touched the other one in months. So I mosey on down to the login screen, click on "my etsy", and head to the sold link to see what all the fuss is about. A very loyal buyer, olioolio, who has purchased from me at least 5 times, had made a purchase and already payed. I stared at the screen blankly for a few seconds, blinking almost rhythmically. Without my attempt at typing it out, do you know the feeling I'm trying to describe? It was almost like she came through my computer screen, in a non horror movie kind of way, and hit me on the forehead with the donk sound used in the V8 commercials. (Ok so I guess I tryed typing it out afterall). So I'm proud to announce that I spent awhile this afternoon tweaking a few things here, a few things there, and I think its time that Hey Lady! has returned. I've got drawers full of vintage paper scraps just dying to be cut up and glued back together.


From top to bottom:

The longest game of tag I've ever played.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

So really, I've been needing an extra push to get anything done lately. I haven't been crafting, or listing things in either of my etsy shops. Yesterday when we got back from swimming with the beautiful Kristen (where I jumped off the edge of the pool into 8 feet of water, a huge step of bravery for me), I discovered that I had made sales in both shops, HeyLady, and ChristopherAndTia. That was just the push I needed to get my creative paper-crafting gears in motion. This morning when I went into the kitchen to unload the dishwasher, I saw that Christopher had already done it. Rather than going back into the living room and taking a nap while Eleanore watched Dora (which is what I really wanted to do), I decided it was finally time to scrub Eleanore's artistic crayon drawings off of the walls, and Windex the windows so that they might actually be used for looking outside. Christopher leaving me with nothing else to do, pushed me in the direction of the magic eraser and paper towels. And finally, as I mentioned in a comment that I left in Diana's blog (a muted palette), I've been pushed to blog. A few things have come to mind in the past couple of days, but there haven't been any real visions of the kind of typing wisdom/sarcasm that I prefer. Well now that I've been tagged, its like I've been given a homework assignment to blog, which means my writing will turn out less than original, but will be so much easier than trying to think of something clever to say, when really all I want to do, is lay on a giant shark shaped floaty in the middle of a crystal clear pool in the 100 degree sunshine, and fall asleep thinking about kittens and rainbows.

OK... so how does this tagging thing work exactly? I'm supposed to write about "seven random irrelevant facts", and then pass on the assignment to 7 other bloggers who may or may not be in need of something to blog about. Well, because I'm both dehydrated and sleep deprived, I'm going to list my 7 facts alright, but they're going to be a warped version of whatever it is that Diana wrote about. For her number one, she wrote about how she hates seafood. I'm going to try to do this in a word association kind of way. Lets see what I can come up with...
Seven random irrelevant facts:


1) Christopher and I got married on the Oregon Coast. It was kind of a Goonies themed wedding, in a non-decorated sort of way. We stood barefoot on the sand in Seaside, surrounded by close friends and family. Whoever could attend on such short notice really. After the ceremony, at which I began crying like a baby as soon as Kim, the lady that married us, started talking, we all headed to Dooger's, a seafood restaurant down the street. My dad had payed for our dinner that night. I ordered the smoked salmon alfredo. It was the best pasta of my life. That night we put our leftover wedding cake and my leftover pasta into our mini hotel room fridge, only to find out a few hours later that fridge was not turned on. The woman who had switched our rooms from a basic room to an oceanfront suite, had forgotten to turn it on. Me, being 4 months pregnant, I cried hysterically at the thought of my smoked salmon alfredo that my daddy had bought for me, being gone forever. We went the next night and ordered more. And, because I had cried so hard, we had got that night of hotel stay for free.


2) When I was in the second grade, my teacher was constantly having everyone in my class write stories. The pages would be lined at the bottom for our words, and there were large blank areas for our illustrations. We were supposed to include so many vocabulary words, and have so many pages. The covers that we made were then laminated, and the books bound together. I've got about 100 of these books up in my parents attic. One day I dug them out, only to discover that every single story I wrote was more or less the same. "The fox baby fell and broke its arm, but then it was OK, it grew up and had babies, and they died, but the fox ate a sandwich. The end". ...Or, "The princess was in a coma, with a broken leg. When she woke up, her parents were dead. But then she had a baby, and they ate cake. The end". My mom watched too many soap operas.

3) Anyone that has died on my Dad's side of the family, is at rest in a crypt in Hayward California. My Grandparents are right next to each other. My Uncle around the corner from them. My Great Grandmother across from him. I haven't been there since my Grandpa died when I was 15. Its all very emotional and creepy. But I'd like to be buried there too.

4) I had never seen an episode of Seinfeld until Christopher and I moved in together. And even then, I refused to watch it. I managed to avoid viewing an entire episode until a few months ago, when I had lost the remote, and was far too tired to get up off the couch and change the channel. Christopher wasn't even here. I'm still not a fan.

5) Ghosts, ghosts everywhere. Shortly after my grandmother died, my Aunt found out she was pregnant, after having IVF. The night she went into labor, I was staying at my Grandmothers old house. I had an unexplained urge to look up, and over at a stack of storage containers in the corner of the bedroom. After looking at it for a few seconds, the stack fell over. I immediately got up, turned the light off, and dove under the covers, not to emerge until daylight. That was just the beginning. A few years later I was on the computer at my parents house, very late at night, maybe 3am. Out of nowhere, I got smacked in the head. So hard that I could hear it. I didn't even bother turning the computer off, just ran straight downstairs to my creepy basement bedroom, and threw the blankets over my head. Later on my ghost encounters started to become less scary, and more exciting. One of the more recent ones, was when Eleanore was a few months old. I was pumping breast milk in the bedroom. Christopher was just leaving the room, and as if it had to fly around him, a brightly colored orb came shooting down the hall, and hit me in the chest so hard it knocked the wind out of me. I started screaming for Christopher to "get it off!!". I couldn't move my arms, because they were supporting my pumps, and I was not about to waste that milk that I had been working so hard to make. He came over to a frantic version of me, and kept saying he didn't see anything, and asking "get what off?!". I handed him my pumps, ran into the bathroom, and examined myself. Nothing had fallen off of me when I stood up. There were no marks on my body. I had Christopher search every inch of the room for a possible anything, that could have been what hit me. Nothing. I could on and on, but I'm starting to creep myself out.

6) When we lived in our last apartment, I would always have overactive imagination type visions of Aliens swooping down from the sky, and attacking the Air Force Base, which you could see from our 2nd story balcony. One night while I was in bed, I saw a bright neon light shoot across the sky. It was so fast, and so bright, that I thought for sure it was aliens, and started crying hysterically, thinking that we were going to die. The next day I googled it, only to find out that it was probably a meteor. But still, I constantly think about an Alien invasion, Independence-Day-Will-Smith style.

7) My almost two year old daughter points to pictures of Bettie Page on my bathroom wall, and says "Mama!". Aww, good baby.


Thanks Diana. These fingers sure needed some typing.


And now I have to tag 7 other bloggers, who may or may not be thankful for the writing assignment. If you decide not to participate, no feelings will be hurt :) So, that being said, I choose...
I'm going to assume that you all know how to play. Don't forgot to tag 7 other bloggers.

From top to bottom:
-Christopher and I right after our wedding in Seaside Oregon.
-"Two Cute Ghost Corpse Skull couple", by lovelydiy, $15.00.
-"Haunted by Lucielle - PRINT 5 x 7 by Bee Joynes", by Witchetty, $7.00
-"Echo8 Space Shuttle Sighting number 005ST - 8x8 TTV Photograph", by echo8, $15.00.

Here I am.

Monday, May 19, 2008


Please forgive me, for I've been slacking so terribly when it comes to updating my blog. I've got so much to say. Plenty to talk about. Hours upon hours of embarrassing and horrifically real stories to type out. Its just that, well, I feel like crap. My morning sickness has completely taken over my body at this point. And just when I begin to regain my steady stomach, I've got that little devil seen in the above photo to chase, entertain, and clean up after. We took her to the doctor today, and now we've got some sinusitis that needs tackling too. We won't let an infected nose or roller coaster nausea get us down! Its 99 degrees outside, and we've got swimsuits to wear, and water to splash in. Really, how can you say no to a face like that?

Things I used to do on purpose.

Friday, May 16, 2008

I don't know if any of you ever did things like this as a kid, but, well I sure did. I was screaming for attention, in every way possible. When I was 5 years old, my parents moved me away from my family in California, to an unknown world that I like to call, Washington state. My cousin was 6 months older than me, and more like a brother than a cousin. Leaving him was like being separated from a sibling. I was also parting from my grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, ect. And while this is all starting to sound sort of depressing, its going to end up funny I promise. Earlier when I asked you if you ever did things like this when you were younger, its because I don't know much about what other kids feel. I was unpopular, with usually 1 or two friends at a time. My parents were distracted and occupied, and for the most part, I grew up alone. I remember my thought process was something like this. "That girl broke her arm. And now everyone loves her. If I could just break my arm, I would have all the attention in the world, and soon the world would be mine, MUAHAHA!". Do you see where this is going? I tried to break my own arm. Several times. But, picture this. I'm seven years old. I'm living in a trailer home out in the middle of nowhere. My parents aren't home, who knows where they are. I figure, if I bang my elbow up against the doorway enough times, it will just... break! So I do this until I can't stand it anymore. ...Is it broken yet?? *sigh* yeah doesn't look like it. Dangit. Ok what else can I do. I have to be wearing a cast by tomorrow, or I'll never have friends. I could put something really heavy on it. Yes. That's what I'll do! My dad has lots of heavy things! I'll just take something, put it on my arm, and it will break under the pressure. Yes! Lets start with... this bucket! Not heavy enough. This chair! No. That's not working either. Maybe if someone sits down on it though! Okay, so, that's it! I need someone to help me. ...Sure enough, I recruited my only friend at the time, Lindsay. She rode her bike to my house from down the street, we put the chair on top of my arm, and she sat it in. Ohmygosh ouch! "It hurts! Get off!" I yelled. Well of course it hurts. We're trying to break my arm here. A few years later Lindsay broke her ankle while we were roller blading in her back yard. ...Bitch. She got a wheelchair and everything. Can you imagine the jealousy? I never did end up breaking my arm and getting the attention-drawing cast of my dreams. But that's OK. Because as I got older, I just thought of more things to do for attention.

Dramatic haircuts. Coughing. Sunburns. Every time my skin turned pink, I got attention from everyone. Soon this was drilled into my head. If I went outside without sunblock, my skin would burn, and my mom would have to help me rub Aloe Vera gel all over me, at least twice a day. Not only that, but in general, she'd be nicer to me. Bring on the sun, and bring on the burns! I always seemed to forget how bad the sun burns actually hurt, until that first night when I'd try going to sleep. The pain was outrageous. But I knew that the next day, It would all be worth it. When I was in the 9th grade, my school's band took a trip to Disneyland. For whatever reason, my way of thinking still hadn't evolved, and when we went to Sea World, I purposely denied my skin the sun block that it so honestly needed. Boy did I burn. Like a marshmallow on a stick over a fire. My skin literally bubbled. And I asked for this? By that time, it was just habit. This time my mom wasn't there to baby me. Nobody was. So I suffered. The seat belts on the rides killed me. And even though every day after that, I practically showered in the thick white protecting lotion, every time the sun touched my body I cringed with pain. I got one hell of a tan out of though. I should be grateful for that. And for the record, that was the last time I ever burnt myself on purpose.

Oh, my first tattoo. I'll admit it. At the time, I wanted anything. It didn't matter what it was. I wanted to be noticed. When I was 16, there was only one tattoo shop in town that agreed to do it. Which was illegal, but they probably needed the money, and what did I care about the law anyways? So the whole family, both of my parents and myself, went down and we all got our very first tattoos together. When I tell you what I got, you'll probably laugh. Actually, you can probably guess what I got, and where I got it. ...I'll wait until you've got an idea in your head. ...Ready? Yes, you were right. A butterfly, on my upper back. Shush! At the time it has absolutely no meaning. I was that girl, I went in, pointed to the picture, and said "I like that". Its true. But now, that same tattoo is exploding with meaning, seeing as how its the only thing that my parents and I have in common. I remember that day like it was yesterday, and I always will. I couldn't wait to walk down the halls at school, showing off my fresh ink. When someone would ask me "is that a real tattoo?", I'd light up like a tree on Christmas day. In my "Beavertonian" class, which was the school newspaper, one girl was complaining about the shirts I would wear to show off my tattoo. "She just wants people to see it", she whined. Was she jealous? I wasn't used to anyone being jealous of me, ever. So while I loved the attention I was getting, I also felt guilty? Now I know better. Now I only have tattoos with extreme meaning, and I proudly show them off, especially when I put so much thought and money into them. I didn't take proper care of my butterfly, imagine that, and now its old and faded. People have suggested that if I don't like it, I should get it covered up. I always think back to that day, when I was 16, and remember how badly I wanted it. I'd never be able to cover it up or remove it, because as embarrassing as my past might be, its a huge part of who I am.

Cleavage, drunk behavior, big hair. Later on, these were my more mature attempts at attention, that all worked in one way or another. However with those ones, I didn't usually realize what I was doing until I looked back on the particular day. I'm sure there are a billion more ridiculous things I've done on purpose, but I can't seem to remember any of them right now. They come to me at the most random of times. Something will trigger a memory, and I'll say "Oh wow, you know what I did one time?". Yep, I mainly use this blog to get embarrassing secrets and stories about myself off my chest. Please tell me I'm not the only crazy that has tried to break their own arm...

From top to bottom:
-"I'm the center of attention", by Meghcallie, $23.00.
-"adorable sad pink zombie teddy bear with scars, tears and broken arm", by JodiVonRotten, $50.00.
-"Stencil painting Dumplings original - no.4 of 6", by pamglew, $39.00.
-"Vintage TATTOO WOMEN Art Glass Pendant", by
ArchipelagoArts, $10.00.
-"Pink Tattoo Butterfly Wooden Pendant Necklace", by LiiLii, $9.00.

Pass the tissue. I'm watching Lifetime.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Last night I stayed up watching a movie on Lifetime. Homeless to Harvard, something like that. Starring Thora Birch? I should have known better. I did know better. I knew I'd probably end up crying, with puffy eyes and a pile of tissues next to me. But I watched it anyways. Christopher would pop his head around the corner, into the room off and on, just to make sure I wasn't drowning in a self-made pond of tears. My hormones have kicked in full throttle, and it looks like its going to be a bumpy 7-8 months. I cried for probably an hour. What a good movie though. I could connect with the character in a few ways, but not nearly on the same level. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. But make sure you watch it with a big box of Kleenex, or ghetto-style roll of toilet paper. Ghetto-style is my tissue of choice. And when I'm done blowing my nose, I stuff the crumpled up balls of tissue inside the cardboard tube in the middle of the roll of toilet paper. Does anyone else do that? Its so tacky. I used to get chronic sinus infections when I was a kid, so I was always carrying around toilet paper with me, with nowhere to toss my "snot rags", as my mom would call them. Gross. I'm going to have to try really hard not to call them that while my kids are growing up.

So in conclusion. The only show I should be allowed to watch on Lifetime, is Still Standing. Everything else will make me sob.

Pink vibrators and adult stores.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

In downtown Portland, there are adult stores galore. Porn stores, for the less conservative. When I first turned 18, I'd go there with my girlfriends and giggle uncontrollably. There's one in particular that always comes to mind. Fantasy Video on Burnside. ...Anyone? Oh the memories. I bought my first toy there. An inexpensive pink vibrator, that would remain my close companion for the next 4 years. My best friend at the time, Cara, had bought the same one. Pedro and Pablo, we named them. I don't remember who was which, or which was who, but I know that like most immature girls, we joked about them at the most inappropriate of times, constantly. Only a week into mine and Christopher's relationship, I had to move out of my apartment. It turned out that my roommate and her boyfriend, were coke dealers. ...Ok. Well, for obvious reasons, I could no longer live in the apartment that she and I shared. Which is a shame, because just a month or two before I found out this illegal and disturbing news, my dad had helped me paint my amazing room, in bright neon's and pastels. I felt guilty for needing to move, to both my roommate, and my dad, but had to do what was best for me. Luckily, the studio apartment directly above my room was for rent, and the landlord so graciously took a chance on renting it to a 20 year old crazy, with no previous rental history. When I got off work, I picked up Christopher from his house, and brought him to my skid row. While I showered, he started moving things from my downstaris room, upstairs to my new studio. As I'm lathering my hair, I silently remember "Crap, Pablo is under my bed!". Well, the chances of Christopher getting to the point of moving my bed, are very unlikely. I have nothing to worry about. After my shower, in the filthiest bathroom you've ever seen, which is basically a giant cat box complete with litter covering every square inch (just another reason I needed to move), I go into my empty room, and think frantically "...shit". The bed is gone. ...Pedro is gone! Or was it Pablo? Dangit, which one was mine?! Well, its gone, and I'm standing there with my towel wrapped hair, not only embarrassed that Christopher is about to see me without my bouffant for the first time, but mortified that hes come across my probably less than clean and worn out vibrator. I stand there embarrassed, cold and wet, freaking out in my head over and over again until he comes back downstairs, and acts as if nothing has happened. "How can he be smiling?", I wonder, as I myself force a nervous smile. "...Must... remain... calm", I convince myself. The rest of the night blends together with other memories, none of them involving my vibrator, but all that you will hear in future blog entries. Pablo went un-talked about for at least another week. Maybe two. I eventually got the nerve to tell Christopher how embarrassed I was about the entire situation. His reaction to my flushed cheeks and lack of eye contact over Pablo, was the opposite of what I had expected. But because sisters read this here blog, both nuns and in-laws, I'll accidentally on purpose leave out the unnecessary details. Your welcome Sisters Mary Steph and Jessie.

When I was 20, my friends and I went to another Fantasy Video, just outside of Portland, where we met Ron Jeremy. He was dirty, felt me up, and tried to stick his tongue in my mouth. Ugh. There really isn't much else I can say about the experience. I had originally gone there because of a commercial I heard on the radio, and left slightly traumatized, with an ink smear on my chest. A lady that I work with down at Lane Bryant, Amanda (40-ish), told me the other day about how she made out with Vanilla Ice circa 1987. Weren't those two boys on the surreal life together? Gross.

Another sort of funny story. I've traded someone on etsy for sex toys. Yep. What a deal right? She contacted me via convo, and asked me if I'd be willing to do a trade. Either from one of her etsy shops, or "for a super fun trade", from her private business. My immediate reaction... "you're willing to trade me greeting cards, for a vibrator?! OKAY". She got some fantastic recycled storybook cards for her neice, and I got a silver bullet. I told you it was sort of funny. Also sort of creepy. It depends on how you look at it.

I don't know how the topic came up, or what stirred around the idea for us to go, but as soon as our shift was over last night, me and 2 other girls from work went to the porn store. I didn't even know Abilene had one. And to my surprise, it wasn't dirty. It wasn't full of cocky tattooed greasy jerks complimenting my jaw structure (Fantasy Video on Burnside again). It wasn't in desperate need for cleaning supplies, and it wasn't full of raunchy posters and life size cardboard cutouts. It was almost church-like, if you can imagine that. At least, thats how I described it to Christopher. There was an older black man sitting at the front desk. Grey hair, very in shape, perhaps retired military? All of the toys and accessories were locked up in glass cases. The videos were off in their own room. My friends and I looked around at the vibrators first. Its been over 2 years since I've been in an adult store, and my-my have they come up with some fancy new gadgets. After circulating through the store, we decided on what we were getting, asked the boss to pull our picks from the cases, and proceeded to check out. As we're doing so, he starts telling us stories. The girls that had checked out right before us, had gotten stories too. And while hes talking, all I can think is, I'm pretty sure we're getting the same story that the chicks before us got. Does he just repeat the same thing to everyone? And here it comes. Wait for it. Wait for it. ...Oh there you are, dirty porn store employee! You have to talk about sex don't you? Being surrounded by buzzing bunnies and leg-sized dildos for hours upon hours isn't good enough. You have to tell us about how men "just love to watch", and how some guy bought his wife a bullet and then ... ew, I can't even finish. This seemingly nice gentlemen, turned out to be a dirty old man, just like the rest of them. In the funniest way though, really. He would start to say something that I really wasn't interested in hearing (maybe because of my worsening heartburn, maybe not), and I would keep quiet, thinking he would stop if nobody responded to him. But Markisha, one of my coworkers, would jump in and get all of the details. My nausea grew worse by the second. By the time everything was bought and payed for, I was so ready to leave. I wanted to go home, take off my too-tight-to-be-wearing bra, and eat dinner. As soon as we stepped outside, I smelt pot. Great. My super sensitive pregnancy snout has me breathing through my shirt every 5 minutes. I bury my face in my sleeve and yell "Pot! I smell pot!". At first the other girls don't smell it. And maybe they never smelt it at all, and just said they did a few seconds later to humor me. Anyways, pot is just another thing I'm allergic to (this I found out after eating some of my dads home made brownies, this we'll talk about another time), so I quickly ran for Kristen's car, and was happy when fresh air returned down the highway. Christopher was a little mad when I came home late, but quickly changed his mind when I presented him with my half-birthday present from Kristen, "the pink ladybug". Unfortunately, all I could think about was that old man telling me how men "just love to watch", so, it was right to sleep for me. Well, it was a combination of that, and my baby-filled uterus remembering the "hot pregnant porn" that I saw on the shelf. *cringe*.

From top to bottom:

Meatloaf rocks!

Friday, May 9, 2008


...I ate meatloaf. With meat. The real kind. And I didn't die. Christopher and I have been vegan since last fall when my body decided it no longer wanted to tolerate meat of any kind (along with every other food I've ever loved). Well I've been wanting it. And unlike the cheese incident, we went and bought the best for this experiment. Grass-fed, no hormones, organic, Angus beef. The most expensive beef I have ever eaten in my life. I took 2 pounds of it, and made a delicious meatloaf. But if you know me, you know I'd never be able to eat just meat. I had to pack it full of fresh vegetables. And speaking of fresh vegetables, the farmers market opens up tomorrow, yay! So, for those of you who are looking to try a healthier version of meat loaf...

Tia's craving meatloaf!
-2 lbs natural grass-fed Angus beef
-1 cup mushroom pieces, chopped
-1 large celery stick, chopped
-2 carrots, peeled and chopped
-1/2 large onion, chopped
-1 radish, chopped
-garlic, however much you prefer, I like a lot (which is probably why I got such bad heartburn)
-1 cup bread crumbs (we use gluten free white rice bread)
-1 tsp cumin
-1 tsp curry
-1 tsp sage
-1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
-pinch celery salt
-salt and pepper to taste

The reason you won't find any tomato products in this recipe, is because my beautiful daughter Eleanore Sue, is allergic to citrus. We add our organic ketchup afterwards. Feel free to add some fire roasted tomatoes or ketchup into the mix. mmm.

*Preheat oven to 350.

Directions:
-Put your 2 pounds of meat into a large bowl. Break it up.
-Mix up all of your veggies in a blender (or magic bullet if you're a big nerd like me). It will be very watery. Strain it through a fine wired colander, until all you've got left is pulp.
-Pour veggie/pulp mixture in with the meat.
-Add bread crumbs.
-Add your spices.
-Gently stir with fingers, so that the mixture stays light and fluffy.
-Set mixture into your loaf pan, and gently mold it to look how you prefer.

Cook for about an hour. Serve with mashed sweet potatoes. This is heaven on a plate for a meat-craving preggo like me.

Gifts galore.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

I've been working on this black and pink zebra print box for a friend of mine, when I've found the time, for the past week-ish? I finally finished it yesterday, and I think it turned out pretty darn nice. Its easy to buy someone a gift and hope that they like it, but its much harder to make someone a gift, and worry that they won't. You might remember a little while back when I did a blog on candles? Well for mothers day, I just had to buy this mothers day candle for dear ol' mom. See it there on the right? Isn't that perfect? I had featured a candle by
MrsTattooedGeek in the before-mentioned candle post, and ohmygosh, her candles are amazing. And so is MrsTattooedGeek herself. She sent me a complimentary "mom" candle upon hearing my recent good news on being pregnant. Thank you lady! Its sitting right here on the desk next to me, burning away. What did you get your mom for mothers day? If you haven't gotten her anything yet, you should consider having one of these candles sent to her. Theres nothing like a tattoo style tin full of something that you can light on fire!

Am I more than you bargained for yet?

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Oh Eleanore. I love the kisses out of you. And I don't care that we had to wake up with you 3 times in the middle of the night because you weren't feeling good. The 3rd time wasn't your fault, it was Daddy Rockstar's fault. But in his defense, he was very tired, and didn't realize he was locking the cat in your room with you. Kitty Bomber just wanted to be close to you while you slept. But not too close. She kept her distance by snuggling up at the opposite end of your crib. I know you're only used to sharing your bed with Blanky and your pillow-doll Mimaw, but sometimes its OK to share your bed with Mom, Dad, and Kitty Bomber too. Please forgive Mommy today, for not commenting on Dora's latest adventure. I'm much too tired, and will be napping on the couch with one eye open, to make sure that you're not coloring on the walls again.

-Click the above photo to visit our flickr account.

The best birthday present ever.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Well. Its my birthday. I'm 24. No shame in that. Next year my insurance will go down by nearly half. I can't wait. It used to be, that the night before my birthday, I wouldn't be able to sleep. I'd toss and turn, thinking about all of the exciting thing the day ahead of me might hold. But nope, not last night. Last night I think I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow. Want to know a secret?

...I'm pregnant.

So I guess my recent period post is temporarily obsolete. It still doesn't seem quite real, to be honest. Christopher and I are already blessed with an adorable 1.5 year old, Eleanore Sue. Shes an angel, that little devil (yes, that was an Alkaline Trio reference. Say hello to my half assed attempt at trying to be clever at 7 in the morning). We've been trying to get pregnant for the past 12 months, and were just about ready to take our thoughts on fertility treatment to the doctor, when we got a + instead of a - on that expensive tiny plastic test. If you've ever tried to have children, you know the aches and pains of charting your reproductive system's every move, right? You know exactly when you ovulate, right down to the minute. Your 2 week waiting period seems longer than a year, as you examine every tiny symptom wondering "does that mean I'm pregnant?". You've spent literally, over $100 (easy) on pregnancy tests in the past year, because even though you know its a waste of money, you always break down and buy a test anyways. And then every time the test comes up negative, you beat yourself up, because you know you shouldn't have bought it in the first place. Not only do you and your significant other feel the pain of not being able to conceive, but so does your check book. You promise not to buy any more tests. You're constantly feeling yourself up, because if your boobs feel sore, then you must be pregnant. They weren't sore the last time you squeezed, so next time you'll squeeze just a little bit harder. Ouch, it hurt that time! Am I pregnant yet? Your husband is sick to death of your "I think I'm pregnant this time" comments. And so are your friends and family. And you're sick of leading everyone on. And you're sick of being disappointed.

So last week, when I was just one day late, I casually say to the Mister, "Go get me a test". There was no please, because I thought he'd shoot me down. Rather than being mean about it, even though I knew it was the last thing he wanted to do on his Sunday afternoon, he said "okay", put his shoes on, and away he went. While he was gone, I guzzled a tall glass of water. By the time he got back, I had to pee so bad I almost couldn't get the wrapper off of the test in time. So I pee on the stick, set the stick on the counter, and watch it like a hawk. I don't let the slow moving blue line out of my site. Within seconds, there is a blue plus sign. I rub my eyes, because like an older lady with bifocals, my eyes refuse to focus, and I'm in desperate need of glasses. The plus sign is still there. There's a little sprinkle of pee on top of the test. Maybe that's just blurring the line so that it looks like a plus sign. I dab the fluid with toilet paper. Wow, the plus sign is still there. And its not going anywhere. I've seen at least 20 negatives in the last year, and never once has my imagination stirred up a plus sign that clearly. Whats going on? I pick up the test, walk slowly out to Christopher (who is on the computer), and set the test down on the desk beside him. ..."Is that? ....Oh. ...Wait. ...Is that?". Yes sir. It sure is. We call everyone immediately. We take another home test later in the day. Its positive. And a blood test at the base hospital the following day. Its positive. I'm pregnant.

The plan for my birthday, was to grab some of the gal pals, and get our drink on. Well with the news of my poppy seed muffin (at 4 weeks, the embryo is the size of a poppy seed. I'm 5 weeks now, and its the size of sesame seed), my birthday got lost in the mix, and this year will be another year without a celebration. Unlike much of the rest of the country, I don't have the opportunity to go out to dinner, or the option to pick up a cake at the store. I have enough food allergies to fuel an allergen free rocket. ...Yeah I'm not sure what that means either, haha. I've heard rumors of pregnant women being able to magically digest lactose when their bodies craved it. Well I've been wanting cheese so bad I think my eyes turned orange like cheddar. Last night I broke down and made the most delicious quesadilla the world has ever seen. And even though 2 hours later I got so sick I probably could have died, I didn't care, it was worth it. Best dilla ever. However, it looks like I will not be eating dairy like these miracle women I've heard so much about. Nor will I be eating any of the other things my body has said no to in the past.

From top to bottom:
-"Double Vanilla CakeCup (TM) with Confetti Sprinkles", by TheSweetSpot, $7.00.
-The first time I held Eleanore Sue after my C-section.

Trailer homes, birthdays, and 80's movies.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

We only got two channels when I was growing up. We lived in a trailer home out in the sticks, where cable wasn't an option. Every weekend one of those channels would have an afternoon matinee time slot, where they'd usually play 80's movies, followed by Baywatch. This is how I was introduced to my two very favorite movies. The Goonies, and The Legend Of Billie Jean. My mom rented movies a lot. Never the new releases, because they cost way too much, but the cheap ones by the dozen. Her and her friend would have "video dub parties", where they'd rent a ton of movies, hook their VCR's up together, and gossip while they illegally copied movies for our collections. They could usually fit 3 movies per blank tape. Our video cabinet was loaded with handwritten labels, which made it really difficult to find what you were looking for when you wanted to watch it. I never thought this was tacky, until I started gaining friends with more money than us. When I'd spend the night at someones house, and they had a collection of real movies, with real cases, I always thought they were such high class, which then made me feel like low class. While we were able to rent the Goonies, and copy that one, The Legend Of Billie Jean was nowhere to be found. As I got older, I began to cherish and regain things from my childhood. I started collecting the old Fraggle Rock figurines that we used to get in our Happy Meals. I got a half sleeve Rainbow Brite/Shirt Tales tattoo on my left arm. And I hunted for my favorite movies when video stores would have going out of business sales. I'd always ask for The Legend Of Billie Jean, but nobody ever had it, and the man at the desk would always tell me "good luck", with a hint of sarcasm. Thanks guy. It didn't exist anymore, and this broke my heart. One time while I was visiting my parents, who now lived in a house with satellite TV, it came on one of their Showtime-type movie channels. I silenced everyone around me, and cursed the me that ever thought copying movies was tacky. Because right then, at that moment in time, I would have done anything for a blank tape. Tomorrow is my birthday. Cinco de Tia I like to call it. Christopher has never been good when it comes to surprises. One day I was checking my email, and found a few Amazon receipts, and immediately thought someone was hacking into our account. I clicked on them, and saw that he had ordered me The Legend Of Billie Jean on VHS, Solarbabies on DVD (I already own an original VHS copy, big nerd right here), and a Solarbabies poster. The night before my 5th birthday, I couldn't sleep. At the time, we lived in Hayward, California. I remember very clearly, that it was a warm night. The window to the left of my parents bed was open, and my dad was standing outside watering plants with the hose, even though it was dark and felt like midnight to me. I was sitting on their California King sized bed, watching Solarbabies. It was the first time I had ever seen it, and I remember loving it. Later, that would be one of the videos my mom would copy. For my 19th birthday, a friend of mine presented me with an original copy. I remember being so happy that I wanted to keep it in the plastic wrap forever and ever. One day I came home from work, I worked full time at the Subway in town, my mom didn't work at all. She hadn't worked for a few years. I came home from a 10 hour shift, to see my mom watching my movie. She had unwrapped it, even though she had her own copy, and was just sitting on the couch watching it and eating chips. I was so angry. And I don't think I was just angry at her for watching my movie, I think it was more about the silent problems we had with each other. Typical mother/daughter issues that never got resolved. Our anger towards each other simmered down once I moved out on my own, but still flare up any time we're around each other for more than a few hours. I'm sure most of you can relate in one way or another. So tomorrow is my birthday, and I'll get to open up my Solarbabies DVD and poster. I can't wait. Last night Christopher and I watched The Legend Of Billie Jean. When it first arrived, he had taken it out of the box to make sure that it worked correctly, and it turned out that the seller had given us a bootlegged copy, with almost impossible to watch quality. Christopher emailed her, and got our money back, so no harm was done. And we watched it anyways. He had never seen it. Hes just been listening to my rave reviews for the past 4 years hes known me. He admitted that he thought it was going to be just another cheesy 80's movie, but when it was over, declared it totally badass. Fair is fair!

From top to bottom:
-"Trailor 1 (pink)", by veronicapress, $80.00.
-"Fraggle Rock-4x6 photo cards, Set of Four Photos", by unicornkidsstudios, $12.00.

Soda fountains and lemon juice.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Yesterday was the first time I've felt "normal", in at least 8 months. The girls I work with are always going out to eat. Or always ordering in. Pizza. Burgers. Steak salad. Whatever they want. I've never lived a life where I could do that. Not even when I could eat those foods, was I able to eat them without feeling guilty for not treating my body better. I have to keep in mind that I don't work every day, and I'm sure there are days when they bring their own lunch or dinner, I just rarely see that. I love these girls, its just hard for me to be around food that I can't have. So yesterday there were 4 of us working, and they're all talking about what they're going to go get. Whenever they do this, it kills me, but I have to accept that people do eat. For those of you who are confused as heck right now as to why I care so much what other people eat, I have food intolerance's. Severe food intolerance's, that prevent me from eating anything that most people eat. I haven't been to a restaurant since August when I went back home to Portland for a visit. And even then, I got horribly sick. But as I was saying, the ladies all decided they'd order sandwiches. I went with one of the girls to pick them up, and while she was paying, I filled up their drinks. Do you have any idea how much fun a soda fountain is?! Oh my gosh, so much fun. I enjoyed every second of pushing the buttons and watching the fizzy drinks fall into the big plastic cups. Amongst the rest of the condiments, were tiny packets of lemon juice. I picked one up, examined both the front and back of it, and then set it back down. "Why do they have lemon juice?" I wondered. After I set it down, I picked it back up. "Do they have fish sandwiches here?".... "Maybe you mix it with your lemonade?". Well, it was time to go, so I'd have to ponder the many purposes of the lemon juice packets later. I completely forgot about my curiosity until we were closing the store after dark. "They had little packets of lemon juice at Subway... isn't that weird?", I say to my bosses. They give me the same look they always give me when I don't understand something obvious, smiled real big, and said "You put it in your tea". ...really?. Why is Texas so big on tea? I never saw that back home. I was going to grab a couple handfuls of the packets, along with some handfuls of sugar, and make lemonade. Too bad they didn't have real sugar. How funny. You normal folks are weird.


From top to bottom:
-"Lemon", by GoBuggy, $15.00.

Its just not a blogging kind of day, ya know?

Friday, May 2, 2008

Sometimes I just get really bad writers block. And sometimes I'm really just lazy. There are countless things I could write about. Like how last night we went to the Grace Museum and Eleanore climbed inside of a tree, or how tomorrow is the air show on base and my house will sound like the inside of an airport terminal. But really, all I can think about, is how nice it is outside, how I can't stop sneezing, and how badly I want a chocolate chip chocolate muffin. So while I'm playing outside in the sunshine, tossing chocolate chips in the air and catching them with my mouth, you're more than welcome to view this photograph of Bomber trying to sleep on my lap, while Christopher nerds it up on the computer behind her. See all that junk next to him? Yeah that's my craft space. I promise an excellent story is on its way. In the mean time, make sure and check the post below to win some free handmade recipe cards!