Thursday, December 26, 2002

My sister broke her foot, which has her feeling vulnerable--an unusual state for her. My grandmother has had a change of medication and suddenly she's in a much kinder mood. Then cB decides no more holidays apart for us. I'm not sure what to make of this conflict-free Christmas. I could get used to it, though. I guess that's what makes it scary.

Saturday, December 21, 2002

If you're female, or want to understand one better, drop what you're doing right now and check out these photo essays by Lauren Greenfield entitled Girl Culture (also the title of her new book). Bet there's at least one you can relate to, and probably one to make you cry--'cause after all, we are girls.

Monday, December 16, 2002

Ya ever notice how the more mundane the vehicle, the more fanciful the name? What is the most humdrum ordinary thing on the road? Why the minivan, of course, a machine designed expressly for hauling kids around town, or loading groceries, the everyday chores of life. What are they called? Odyssey, Quest, Windstar, Caravan.

In other weird car news, I saw this ugly looking thing on the road today that looked rather like a chrome plated hum vee. Then I noticed it had a big fat Mercedes logo on the front grill. oh god help us, luxury pseudo-military vehicles.

Thursday, December 12, 2002

There have been complaints that I'm not a very--how was it put to me?--umm, frequent blogger. Well, to paraphrase a favorite card that used to always catch my eye even before I became a mom (much less a single one): "hey if the baby's alive at the end of the day, I've done my job." If I happen to get something read, sort through the clutter of papers on my dresser, buy christmas gifts, or get a chance to blog, that's just superfluous. And no, I still haven't bought any gifts yet.

Wednesday, December 11, 2002

I'm currently reading Natalie Goldberg's Thunder & Lightning, I'm A Stranger Here Myself by Bill Bryson, and, since I can't seem to get to the theater to see Bowling for Columbine, I just started Michael Moore's Stupid White Men. They are, respectively inspiring, hysterically funny and depressing. I wish books like Moore's got me inspired, but they tend to make me feel powerless. And speaking of stupid white men, what's up with Trent Lott?

Monday, December 09, 2002

Sometimes you get so used to settling for less than you want, to being in situations where you just sort of skate through life that when finally confronted with something that you do really want and truly matters to you, you forget how to behave, what is required of you. You forget that effort is good and being challenged isn't really about being threatened, but about opportunity for growth. You have to fight the urge to be scared about it all the time, and just trust it and be grateful.

Friday, December 06, 2002

Watch out, she's gonna rant... 

To all you folks in my office building (and office buildings everywhere) who take the elevator up and down everyday to the ubiquitous coffee chain store for their caffeine fix, here's a little environmental tip for ya: buy a mug! Do ya really want to be throwing away a paper cup--not to mention the non-biodegradable plastic lid--every damn day? I think not.

Wednesday, December 04, 2002

Just when I think I am about to completely lose it, I see that the latest issue of Hip Mama is out.
If you need a blog fix, and I'm not posting regularly enough for ya, check out megnut
She is the goddess of bloggers, one of the first, and certainly one of the best.
I'm feeling homesick. Not in the usual sense in that I'm far away from my home and wishing I were there, but in the larger sense of not quite feeling like I have one of my own. For the past two years or so, the kidlet and I have been sharing space in a beautiful old house in a great neighborhood with some pretty cool housemates. It's been the perfect set up for us: the benefits of home ownership (a yard, proximity to parks, lovely trees and sidewalks, a dishwasher) without the expense and responsibility. Out of the blue at a house meeting awhile ago, the bomb gets dropped-- home owners decide they no longer want housemates and we are getting booted (albeit gently) to the street. Never has this single mom felt so vulnerable; never has she wanted more to be able to afford her own place. Instead, I'm over at cB's a lot, trying not to take too much advantage of his hospitality but unable to resist the powerful pull of being with him, and realizing that part of the appeal is that sense of home I feel there.

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