January 25th, 2010
The people have requested MORE TITUS PHOTOS, so I’m trying to appease. I mean, come on, he’s the second kid, how many photos do you need? You see one baby, you’ve seen them all. And how much time do you think I have on my hands these days, anyway?
Here are my boys. Have I told you how much I love my boys? I love them sooooo much! (said in my best Ed McDunnough voice) I was kinda worried for Titus, that I had used up all of my love on Waits; I mean, how can my heart be given over like this, all over again? I need not have worried. It’s hard to explain, but somehow, having Titus around makes me love BOTH boys even more.
Last week, Waits accidentally kicked Titus in the head. Three or four times, and hard. Waits was wearing shoes, and hit Titus right in the soft spot at close range. The pediatrician sent us to Children’s ER — our 2nd emergency room visit for a head injury in less than 3 years. So, at the ripe old age of 4 months, Titus underwent his first CT. Screaming bloody hell.
Poor little guy is totally fine. I should have advised the doctors: if he’s anything Waits, he has a remarkably resilient skull. Turns out, he’s also about to get his first tooth. Now I’m gonna pull a mommy moment here and weepily exclaim: They grow so fast!
Titus seems to be more laid-back than Waits in some ways. He doesn’t mind being bathed or changed, and he will actually take a bottle from someone else besides Mama. (All of which blows my mind — I’m like, really? I can change your diaper without having to wrestle you? He actually giggles when I change his clothes. Amazing!) He happily resists all scheduling, and doesn’t really see the point of sleeping through the night. He has been perfectly healthy, with not even a diaper rash or the slightest bit of reflux to complain about. At the same time, he’s louder than Waits was at this age (the ecstatic growling! the enraged screaming!), and he’s bigger, too. I’m wondering if we have a little Rooster on our hands.
Posted in Family, Sights | 3 Comments »
December 21st, 2009
Four Walls Down
There are certain among us who inevitably wind up at most social gatherings standing in the corner, clutching beers to chests, and pontificating about musical trivia. Some of us also happen to be damn good writers. I think you know where I’m going with this. I know, it’d be way cooler if we just got into fistfights or picked our boogers and posted the videos online, but instead we’re going to bore you with outrageous claims and exquisite prose. Because the world needs to hear exactly why Cracker is still relevant, why Van Hagar deserves some credit, and why we should listen to Ryan Adams in spite of his persona.
Thought For Food
Back in Asheville, I worked at a renowned ceramics supply store and art school. About three or four times a year, the community would gather for a potluck to celebrate whatever season it happened to be. The biggest of these was centered on Winter Solstice / Christmas / Whatever-You-Celebrate-At-Year’s-End. And for me, the word “potluck” was forever transformed into something glorious. Dude, potters can cook. The spread would always be magnificent, with only the best culinary efforts on display — not a single serving of neon-green, marshmallow-bedecked ambrosia or chicken casserole to be found. Best of all, us vegetarians didn’t have to push the food around on our plates and pretend to eat (can you imagine a world where folks don’t put meat in everything?). People, it’s what potlucks in heaven are going to be like. It made me realize that the quality of the food offered at a meal really does make a difference — good food brings people together in a way that lackluster food can’t ever hope to. No matter how well meant or spiritually inclined.
If you too have a fondness for food par excellence, you should read my friend Katy’s blog. Thing about Katy is, she loves food. Of course, she prefers it fresh, in season, local and organic if possible. And she enjoys figuring out the best way to prepare anything. She also happens to be a pretty good writer. An irresistible combination in my book. Even if you only have the slightest interest in good food, Katy’s blog will both entertain and inform you, plus! she also occasionally gives away fun kitchen gadgets like milk frothers. Here’s to good eating.
Posted in Elsewhere, Sounds, Tasty, Words | 2 Comments »
December 7th, 2009
Hello, interwebs! I’m baaaaack.
Look who arrived while I was away:
Internet, meet Maxwell Titus; Titus, meet your rabid fans. Titus will be three months old this week. He is one of the happiest babies I’ve ever known, but he only shows me his happy face. If you met him on the street, he’d give you a Very Serious Look, more like this:
We spent Thanksgiving in Charleston, SC, and Titus maintained his serious face for pretty much everyone except for Grandmom. He beamed at Grandmom. Smart kid.
He also did a lot of this:
Waits, on the other hand, did not sleep much at all.
(last three photos by my brother Toby)
Posted in Family, Sights | 1 Comment »
August 9th, 2009
Sitting in the doctor’s office the other day, I read about Amos Kennedy in Thicket Magazine. I love his work! I have a poorly cultivated but rampant affection for the art of letters and typography and I’m a sucker for letterpress designs. I also really like his tone.
From the “Buy Posters” page of his website:
Printing is what we do. You send the text and a check, and go home and pray. We do not know what will happen until we are at the press. The design of your poster is determined in real time. Sometimes we produce beautiful posters and at other times we produce BEAUTIFUL posters.
Love it.
Totally unrelated: I cannot wait to see this movie. Nor this one. Two of my favorite stories, ever. So exciting.
Ah, friends. Pregnancy sucks my brain. I have quite a few posts in the works — on the art of wabi-sabi, on missing my dad, on how much I dislike pregnancy, and on a music blog that a few friends are starting (and about which I’m pretty excited) — but for now all I got is this: pointing at random things and grunting, “Me like!”
Posted in Elsewhere, Sights | 6 Comments »
May 14th, 2009
An eerie resemblance:
(Left) One of our favorite photos of Waits.
(Right) Tom Waits album cover art.
One evening last week, after Scott got home from work, Waits started turning somersaults on the bed. We’ve never taught him how to somersault. He just stood up and hurled himself head-over-heels onto the bed. “Hurled” in the true sense of the word — pitched his body into the air, a fast arc of flying limbs. He didn’t need any coaxing or encouragement; he didn’t start off slow and easy, crouched low to the ground. No, he just took off jumping headfirst at the bed — fearless, reckless, with great abandon. Repeatedly.
Later, Scott and I watched Quantum of Solace and there went Daniel Craig as James Bond hurling himself through the air, crashing his boat headlong into another boat to make the bad guys stop, and I thought, there goes Waits. Indomitable.
Waits is at my favorite age yet, and being pregnant I haven’t had the energy to document it, so I’m trying my best to just soak it up and take it in, so that I can remember. The way his mind works: fascinating and fresh and wonderful. His sense of humor, his belly laughs. His endless commentary on whatever wondrous thing lies before us, whether it be a snail on the front steps, or how the water pipes travel in and out of the wall. His infectious enthusiasm. His unpredictability. I feel like every day with him is a sweet golden gift, teaching me to be more observant, patient, open; to go more slowly. He tries my patience a hundred times a day, but he also opens my eyes to the deep wonder of the world. I feel so lucky to be his mom.
Posted in Family | 4 Comments »
May 5th, 2009
What a fun day that was! Happy anniversary, my love.
Posted in Family | 4 Comments »
April 28th, 2009
- So apparently, I’m a bit of a recluse when I’m pregnant. Right now, I’m really into eating and sleeping and being with Scott and Waits. I mean, gosh, I’m making a baby up in here. As for the rest of you, I beg your patience. I’ll be back soon.
- Moonbeam is a boy! Oh my.
- I’m more excited about having another son than I expected to be. But how can I not be excited when I look at Waits and think, another one of those! I know that Moonbeam will no doubt be very different from Waits, but still. It’s pretty thrilling. I can’t wait to meet him. Speaking of which, have I mentioned how much I dislike being pregnant? Subject enough for another blog entry. Which you should anticipate with great dread.
- Neko Case is awesome. We saw her live for the first time a couple of weeks ago. I’ve never been so physically uncomfortable at a show [insert yet another complaint about being pregnant here], but I still loved every minute of it. What a fine, rich voice, like smooth apple butter. Especially loved “This Tornado Loves You” live. Before the show, the song didn’t really stand out to me on the album, but her live performance was kick ass. May be my favorite song at the moment.
- Mogwai is also awesome. I love me a good, thick wall of noise. Especially interlaced with tender, anthemic melodies. We made the mistake of getting there early and grabbing seats facing center stage. Apparently all of the amps were aimed directly at my belly. The term “loud” doesn’t really do it justice. We were being pummeled with sound. Of course, being pummeled with beautiful sounds can feel really, really good.
- My favorite laundry scent is Mrs. Meyer’s Geranium. OH MY GOSH I just want to keep my face buried in these clothes. Please, Mrs. Meyer’s, how do you make them smell so good?
- Spring is not my favorite season, not at all, but I do like it when I come home to find flower petals stuck in my hair. I also love showing Waits how things grow: buds bursting into bloom. He is awestruck.
Now for a nice, bitter poem about spring, by Edna St. Vincent Millay:
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Posted in Family, Smells, Sounds | 3 Comments »
February 6th, 2009
I know, things have been all quiet on the Pretty How Town front, but I have a great excuse: there’s a baby in my belly! Here’s the first picture of the wee one. Yeah, the ultrasound tech had to interpret it for me, too. Moonbeam is the little amorphous grey blob floating inside the dark oval. Upside-down, and facing in the other direction, spine toward us. I’m about 8 weeks along. Doc says everything looks great, and that she’s glad I feel so sick. Um, yay little baby.
We like to nickname our fetuses. “Moonbeam” seems a nice follow-up to Waits’s in-utero moniker, “Rainbow” (thusly named by our 3-year-old friend Isabel). Don’t worry, we’ll lose the nickname when the wee one is born. Maybe.
Posted in Family | 5 Comments »
February 4th, 2009
According to Stephen King: “Both Rowling and Meyer, they’re speaking directly to young people … The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can’t write worth a darn. She’s not very good.”
(Anne sent this quote to me today, and I love it. It’s always nice to have my own opinions backed up by an author I admire. Thanks, Anne!)
Posted in Words | 3 Comments »
February 4th, 2009
When Mother Theresa was criticized for not battling the root causes of poverty and instead “only” treating its symptoms, she quoted the Indian poet Tagore: ‘Let me light my lamp,’ says the star, ‘and never debate if it will extinguish the darkness.’ (via my father-in-law)
…
… A scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty … Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.
In a few breaths’ time I will speak some sad words to you. But you must hear them the same way we have agreed to see scars now. Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means, this storyteller is alive. The next thing you know, something fine will happen to her, something marvelous, and then she will turn around and smile. (from Little Bee, via Elisa)
…
The interior life is often stupid. Its egoism blinds it and deafens it; its imagination spins out ignorant tales, fascinated. It fancies that the western wind blows on the Self, and leaves fall at the feet of the Self for a reason, and people are watching. A mind risks real ignorance for the sometimes paltry prize of an imagination enriched. The trick of reason is to get the imagination to seize the actual world — if only from time to time. — Annie Dillard, from An American Childhood (via Erasing)
Posted in Words | No Comments »
