nina turns 40

Well, Halloween was kind of a wash. The kidlet came home from school complaining of a headache and with a bit of a fever. His beautiful costume (thanks to his Daddy, who, for all his faults, is a kick ass theater artist) shed feathers everywhere: the teachers at the preschool gathered them all into a ziplock bag for me, mostly, I think, to let me know what a pain in the ass I had caused for them. The kidlet still insisited on going trick or treating, and I could hardly deny him at least a brief venture out. He declared he was finished after about 15 minutes, insisted I carry him, and we came home, where he collapsed in bed. Not exactly the joy filled chocolate fest we'd both been imagining, but this means we probably don't have to go to yet another birthday party that is scheduled tomorrow for which I have yet to buy a present. I do still have to go to eVil corp. for a couple of hours though. Being a good employee sucks.

Been seeing this one around my office. Caught my eye because in Mexican folk legends and songs the paloma herida or wounded dove is a common symbol. It's also interesting as it seems to be written in lipstick, indicating a female artist, and I'm always curious as to how many chicks are out there making street art. Finally, what made this particular piece even more fun to shoot for me was the fact that there was a Pi symbol on the same lampost.

I am totally in love with Adam Gopnik, who writes for The New Yorker. Of course, I've never met the man, but talk about a beautiful mind.

Shameless bragging about the kidlet

Talked to the kidlet's teacher today about his reading/spelling skills, and she said, and I quote, "I really like how he challenges the rest of the class." In other words he's the smartest one in there! Ha! I knew it! In other school related news, one of his female classmates has taken a liking to me, and whenever she sees me, she gives me big hugs or otherwise wants to touch and be affectionate with me. When I crouched down to her level to talk to her this evening she looked me right in the eyes and said, "I like you! I love you!" Girly love! Ahhh, melts the heart of this mom who will only ever have a son.

Who says elk aren't hip?

Downtown Sequim is actually getting kind of cool. To wit--a new coffee house called The Buzz, which could have been lifted out of Seattle's hippest neighborhood (Capitol Hill, of course) and plopped down on Sequim Avenue, complete with rotating original art on the walls, vintage church pews for seating, and a non cutesy bee-themed decor has recently opened right on Sequim Ave. I have a thing for bees, and puns for that matter, so I was charmed. Of course, the coffee sucked, but I think that has more to do with the bimbette who made it than with the potential quality thereof. My mom and I also went to a small, local, independent bookstore (remember those?), and it brought tears to my eyes it's been so long since I've browsed around in one. I think not having time to read is one of the biggest sacrifices I've had to make for the kidlet. Finally, there is a new bakery in town, and if the chocolate cake I had for my birthday is any indication, they will be marvelously successful. After eating those horrid Crisco and sugar grocery store cakes at all the kids' birthday parties I've been to of late, having a real, three-layered chocolate cake with buttercream frosting was pure heaven. Yum! Thanks to all those Sequimmers for making my birthday a treat.

good news/bad news at eVil corporation

The good news is that I have a new computer (I was running Windows 95 for crissake), and so I can blog from work again.

The bad news is that the boss has hired her boyfriend (blantantly! we all knew she was doing him before he even got hired--the balls of some people), and I'm on double secret probation, so I have to be a good girl and not blog from work. Except at lunch. Which is where I'm at now. Where you at?

Dear Blogger,

Thanks for the hoodie that you sent trying to appease me for paying for things that you're now giving up for free. I look pretty cute in it, which is unusual for hoodies and me, we usually don't hit it off. But what I'd really really like are some decent templates.

thanks,
nina

If you like drinking Rioja, but are bored with it and suspect that Spain may have more to offer, why, you're just the smartest little wine drinker ever! Why not try something from the Ribera del Duero region? Tinto Pesquera is a personal favorite of mine, but there are others. As John and Dottie always say: go explore, have fun. If you live in Seattle (and doesn't everybody secretly want to?) The Spanish Table on Western Ave by Pike Place Market is a good place to start.

Lordy, I'm one tired mama tonight. And it's not from excessive birthday partying either. Just sort of winding down from a period of intense social activity, introspection, housecleaning (both external and internal), and other sorts of general reclaiming of my life. Feels good, but it's exhausting, especially since I've been sleeping a lot less than usual as well. It's as if a bunch of leaves and twigs and mud had been gradually building up inside the clear river of my thinking, making it slow and sluggish, until eventually only a trickle was getting through. A storm came, bringing wind and fresh rain, and the water rose until it burst through again all pell mell and rushing, but now it's settling back into its banks, and I feel more like myself again. And it's no wonder I'm coming up with flooding river metaphors considering the recent events in Western Washington. And while I was just looking for a good link to send you to that referenced the floods, I went to a local TV station's website and not only did they have an emoticon smiley posted in the story about the weather, but later in the piece they use the phrase "exact same". Jesus H Christ! This is not a high school paper here folks. The weather is the big news in this town right now (they're already calling it the "Great Flood of 2003"), can't you write a halfway decent grown up story about it? I HATE the fucking local news in Seattle, and that is exactly why.

As someone who works in a poorly managed office tower with locked stairwell doors, I found this more than a little bit disturbing.

nina turns 41

happy birthday to me! i am one of those unceasingly annoying people who seems to think that her birthday is more important than everyone else's; like she's the only one who has one or something. I can't help it! I was raised that way. Since my aunt and my grandmother also have their birthdays in october, it was always a HUGE deal in our family to go and celebrate the Libra birthdays together, which we always traveled away from home to do. There are countless wacky family traditions around these birthdays--which I'll spare you--but we didn't go through all of that for my sister's birthday, nor my parents', so i grew up thinking that by virute of having your birthday in october it made you da bomb, and i can't seem to shake it. plus really cool things just seem to happen around my birthday. i've celebrated it in Rome, i fell in love with jerry over my birthday weekend last year, and now moira is here, a rare enough occurence to feel really special.

cliche of the week: love is blind

see also, Sledge, Percy "When a Man Loves a Woman". switch genders appropriately.

So miss moira is in town, and we had a wonderful day drinking coffee in Belltown in the warm autumn sun and then walking along Elliot Ave and over to Palisades, where she treated me to the best salmon either of us has ever had (and as a seattle native, I've eaten plenty). We asked the concierge to call us a cab to get back to my car, and what should appear instead but a stretch white limo. Hysterical. The guy was working his second ever shift driving the thing, and we just laughed at how utterly absurd it was--our methods of transport to and from the restaurant couldn't have been more different. I love that girl!

Last night, as I was getting ready to go over to C's house, my upstairs neighbors/landlords were having a big ol' fight. Not a knock down drag out, fuck you sort of fight, but rather a heated discussion sort of fight. What made this noticeable is that it's the first time since I've lived here that I've been able to make out what they were saying. I hear them stomp around, and play with the dog, and the ceaseless squeaking of the rocking chair has annoyed me on more than one occasion, but I never hear them talking, at least not well enough to make out the words. So it definitely caught my attention. I stopped. I listened. I couldn't help myself. It's not so much that I'm nosy about other people's lives (though I can't deny that I am, why else do I love blogs so much?), but that I'm also extremely interested to find out how married people stay married, as I've never managed to be able to do so myself. I wanted to find out how they negotiated through whatever conflict this was that they were having. And although their voices were raised, they were very calm and rational about what they were discussing. I didn't catch enough to reach any conclusions. And then I started feeling badly for listening in, and it was time to go. So, off I went to C's, as baffled as ever.

warning if you are a member of my family and don't want to know details of my sex life, don't read this post. all the rest of you, i'm assuming, do want to know the details of my sex life, because why else are you on the net?

I miss sex. Or more, precisely, I miss sex that involves another person. Not that it's been that long (yet), but I'm the kinda gal who likes to get laid. regularly. often. preferably with someone who knows how and isn't married, and if it's always nice if you're madly in love with them, too. But as time goes by, of course, your feelings on the subject change and you just wanna get you some, no matter what. And I guess that's really what I'm worried about. The way my judgement slips as the horniness increases. The way that after awhile, I find myself ready to start attacking strangers in the elevator. The way that all you think about when having a conversation with someone is what nice lips they have, and how much you want to bite their earlobe. I've got to find a way to channel this sexual energy into something positive (as I used to tell my ex). Maybe I should take a pottery class--yeah right.

As you can see, I'm messing around with the colors and fonts. Since I don't really have time to sit down and do the whole thing at once, I'm doing it bit by bit, which will probably lead to an incoherent messed up design for awhile. can't be too much worse than what blogger has come up with...

Something's up. I'm not the kind of girl who normally suffers from insomnia. Usually, it's the waking up part that's hard for me. But every once in awhile, maybe once or twice a year at most, I get it for a couple of days, usually starting slowly where it just takes me longer to fall asleep, gradually working its way up to full blown nights like tonight where I give up and find something to do. It seems to be somewhat hormonally related, as it happened when I was so newly pregnant with the kidlet that I didn't even know it at the time; and I'm due for my period sometime this weekend (big things also tend to happen around my birthday, which is next week). I've come to appreciate it, as it usually seems to be my body, my subconscious, and my fairy godmother conspiring to get me to pay attention to something that I normally try to push down or ignore, but it also kind of freaks me out. My brain chemistry feels seriously altered. I had a big burst of energy at work on Thursday and got a bunch of stuff done that I've been putting off at home, too. I have insights about things: my own personality, other people's behavior, the human condition, that normally don't occur to me or that I may have struggled with wanting an answer to for very long periods of time. It's when I feel most in touch with whatever mysterious forces may be out there that are bigger than us. But it sure makes it harder to deal with my everyday life. Luckily, it's the weekend.

speaking of big things that happen on my birthday, one of my oldest and best friends, the talented and lovely miss moira b., will be coming to town and staying right here in arachnilandia (scroll down to the april 16th post, i'm too tired to figure out how to link directly to it now) with the kidlet and I. Can't wait !

I figured out how to make the font smaller!! I'm learning html slowly, and against my will, in other words.

In addition to missing out on the Lucinda Williams concert when I go to woo woo hot springs next month, I'm going to have to figure out a way to get my caffeine fix. The addiction is in full swing (it's been building steadily since the last time I went on one of those caffeine free stints, when I was pregnant) and has been taking on gargantuan proportions. I go through almost a pound of beans a week that I brew at home, and I'm ordering 8oz drinks with three shots in them during my work day. My stomach is none too happy with me, and we won't even get started on what this does to the color of your teeth (why do you think you see so many ads for whitening strips on TV these days?). So I was a bit umm, concerned, when I disovered that on the info sheet from above mentioned hot springs they say to BYO caffeinated beverage. They let you smoke cigarettes at this place--though not inside anywhere--but you can't get a cuppa joe? This is the pacific NW for chrissakes!! But how does one bring coffee to the woods if you can't bring anything electric, and it's not like I'm camping and will have a fire? Luckily, like junkies everywhere, I am crafty when it comes to getting my DOC, and everyone's least favorite corporate coffee giant makes these nifty little espresso and cream mixtures packaged in slim aluminum cans. I figure I'll be knocking back one of those every hour or so.

The kidlet is in the bathtub right now singing, "your umbilical cord, your umbilical cord, your umbilical cord!" to some lovely tune of his own invention. that kid cracks me up. hmmm, i wonder what they talked about in pre-K today?

Not that I like having banner ads across the top of my blog, but I do get a kick out of watching how they change depending on what I'm blogging about. I just might have to mess with them to see if I can come up with really wacked out things that they can't find ads for, or just randomly insert phrases in my entries like skanky porn princess or yogurt wrestling or i love lace doilies.

Good places to cry:

In the shower
Driving
Sitting on the edge of the the bathtub
In someone's arms


Bad places to cry:

In your cubie
In front of the kidlet
Walking down the street
While talking on the phone

You know how it is when someone points something out to you that you never paid much attention to before, and suddenly it's everywhere you look? Well that's how it is now for me with graffiti. And I like finding new ways to pay attention.

And speaking of the graphic arts, go check out this article in the NYTimes (and please just fill out the little registration form, it's free and it's well worth it to have access to a good newspaper) about Art Spiegelman of Maus fame.

Well, it may not get me out of eVil corporation as quickly as I'd like, but things went pretty well tonight at the dinner/interview shindig. Looks like I'll at least be able to make some cash on the side, and I'll have a practically bottomless supply of really fabulous chocolate. Details to follow...

Just found out that Lucinda Williams is coming to Seattle the same time i'm gonna be in the east bumblefuck woods on my retreat. That blows. And sucks.

The October 13th issue of The New Yorker (which has unfortunately already rotated off the website) has a wonderful illustration of dubya in cowboy gear, wearing blinders, and riding on a terrified looking horse. It's called "The Vision Thing". If only my rants about him could be so beautiful and well stated. I just keep calling him a fucktard. I know, I know, I'm overly fond of that word. I'll get over it. eventually.

Some days it's good to just come home and interact with a four year old. After a crappy ass day at work filled with misunderstandings and dull tasks, listening to that sweet voice, even with its constant refrain of "why?", puts it all back into perspective.

Have my "meet the owner" dinner/interview tomorrow night. Takes place at a brewpub. Definitely my kind of company. Wish me luck.

Dear lord, if i never have to attend another children's birthday party again, i'll be happy. of course, this is not my destiny. i've so far avoided giving the kidlet a big party in favor of a low key family thing at gramma's house, but i think that now that he's been to several go for broke type shindigs (you know, with stuff like pinatas, and reptiles, and goodie bags and levels of screeching worse than a boy band concert) he's gonna think that's how it's supposed to be. I'm reminded of why I only have one. One at a time, i can usually deal with. And yeah, i'm too wiped out this evening to capitalize properly, or consistently.

I finally saw The Hours. Wow. Packs quite the emotional whallop, especially considering my state of mind these days. First, let me say it is emphatically not a chick flick (why are stories about women always deemed to be of interest only to women?). It's much bigger than that, and although I was at first turned off by the idea of seeing it because of the movie star vehicle quality it had to it, I was totally engrossed and moved by it. Even if you've never read Mrs. Dalloway (and why haven't you? go read it now) you can appreciate the complex layering of the story as it depicts the intertwining of art and life, and the elusive nature of happiness. One of the better flicks I've seen in a long time.

I realized that I'm in exactly the same place I was a year ago. The turn in the road that I thought was a new path, a big change in the direction of my life, turned out to be a diverson. A highly joyful, horribly painful detour, but just that, a detour, and now I'm back on the same path I always was. Now it's up to me to figure out exactly where that path is going.

At the birthday party I took the kidlet to today they had the reptile man come, so not only did i get to pet a huge 12 year old iguana, but I got to be draped in a boa boa (as oppposed to a feather boa) for quite awhile. Very cool. Not sure when i started digging reptiles so much. I remember when i was teaching in mexico that one of my students brought a snake to class and let me hold it, and i discovered how different the texture of their skin is from what you expect. Plus, they're just drop dead gorgeous, their color and patterns so intricate. I think the kidlet and i should get an iguana. I like them for pets because unlike snakes they're vegetarian--no need to buy baby mice to feed them.

It's called Karma, baby

I'm having a hard time garnering any sympathy for that racist fucktard Rush Limbaugh.

Cyn has a great post today on public transportation and cars. She realizes that the only way to drive is with a stick shift, that owning a car that you have to worry about whether or not someone has their feet on the dashboard is ridiculous, and that good public trans rocks. When we lived closer to downtown and the kidlet went to his dad's during the day instead of preschool we used to take the bus every day, and I miss it. Riding the bus with a kid is a completely different experience, however. Forget getting any reading done.

At the risk of sounding totally inappropriate (the horror!), I would just like to mention that several of the daddies that I see picking up and dropping off their children at the kidlet's school are damn sexy.

Just booked myself for something I've always wanted to do, a personal retreat here. What's a personal retreat, you ask? Solitude, woods, river, hot water, meals cooked for you, classes if you want, nothing if you'd rather, massage, did I say hot water? As in naturally occuring, clothing optional, thermally hydrotherapeutical springs. I can go totally woo woo and do yoga and meditation and drumming, or just hang out with myself in the rain. You know I'm gonna be seeking out the hottest body of water I can find and parking myself there for a good long while. Can't wait.

I got a happy little surpirse today. A job lead that I thought was dead turned out to have some life after all. We'll see how it goes, I get to meet the owner of the company next week. I'm superstitious enough to not want to say too much for fear of jinxing everything, but I will say that the new job would involve one of my favorite things. With thanks to the one who pointed the way.

Well of course the only thing to blog about this morning is California. I guess those fools will get what they voted for. I hate to say it, but this kind of thing makes me question democracy. If it's going to all boil down to a race for the most famous candidate celebrity, then why bother?

Cure for Pain

Making art is always an incredibly healing experience. Something about the creative process, no matter how you apply it, works wonders in curing what ails ya. Me, I tend to write. Write in my journal, write here, write to friends. And then of course, there are the poems. Don't fear, there will be absolutely no posting of nina's poems here. I do have a few shreds of my dignity left. I was thinking that it would be especially therapeutic (not to mention fun) to go bang on a drum somewhere, and there's little doubt that I'll be out dancing before too much longer. Though no, probably not at the salsa clubs. We're moving forward here, folks.

Guess where I've been this weekend! Nothing like an urban chick in the country. She gets so excited when she sees the poultry walking around that she has to snap fotos. The kidlet had a blast running around in the straw maze, decorating a pumpkin with veggies for features, and going on a tractor pulled hay ride. We visited, count 'em, three farms, petted a burro and a bunny, saw where our co-op food comes from, and ate fresh corn with chipotle butter. Not only that, but Gramma & Grampa being, well, Gramma & Grampa, the kidlet copped a new bike AND a some new toys. And nary a birthday or gift giving holiday in sight. The kidlet has got it good. And when he's happy, how can I not be?

Have a new link for y'all to check out, especially you literary types: Craig Clevenger. Not only is he a very talented writer (his first novel Contortionist's Handbook just came out in paperback and the movie rights sold), but he's also gorgeous and a really great guy; pretty much every woman's fantasy lover. I met him through cB last christmas, but unfortunately didn't get to talk writing with him as much as I would have liked. Anyway, boys and girls, he's the real thing. Buy the book, check out his blog, become his groupie.

The kidlet and I are on our way to Sequim after work today to go have some gramma time. Gonna partake of some hydrotherapy, mama love, and probably a long walk or two. Oh, and it's the Clallam County Harvest Celebration, with tours of farms, corn mazes, stuff like that. And for such an urban chick, I really get a major kick out of these kinds of things. I've had a "buy a farm" fantasy since the 9th grade, and the Dungeness Valley farmland, with its proximity to both the water and the mountains, always rekindles that. My particular fantasy involves sheep, fruit and hazelnut trees, and bees. Wanna make cheese and honey. Those of you who know me are now laughing hysterically. But its a perfectly good fantasy, and I'm sticking to it.

Most of my august archives were missing for awhile, but they're back. Had to republish everything in this crappy ass template, though. I know, I know, if i were a truly cool chick, i'd have my own domain name and design and wouldn't need to have my hand held by Blogger. You wouldn't think some decent templates would be too much to ask, though. Especially now that they're Google owned.

On a more personal note, I want to thank everyone who's been offering their support lately. means a lot. october is shaping up to be a much different month than i'd planned. not nearly as much fun either. instead of celebrating the first anniversary of my relationship with cB in San Francisco, i'm grieving the end of it, and i still don't know exactly what happened. i have some pieces of the puzzle, but some key ones are still missing, and i may never have them. meanwhile, i just want to get through this to the other side so he and i can be friends again. real friends. and yeah, couples always say that, but i believe we'll actually do it. and no, i have no intention of making this the breakup blog, so i'll try to keep talk of it to a minimum.

So I see Dubya wants more money to look for weapons in Iraq. That man has no shame, sinverguenza as we say in spanish. He is, to use one of my favorite new words (thanks to go fish), a fucktard.

Nothing gets me in trouble like email. For a girl who normally chooses her words very carefully, there's something about email that makes me just shoot from the hip, and then regret it later. Both at work and in my personal life, there have been times I wish I'd never hit that send button. In the last few days alone, I can think of more than one email I wish I could take back. I think it comes from being very comfortable with the written word. Plus, some things are simply easier to say when you're not face to face. And of course all my good intentions (can you say road to hell?) don't mean a thing when I just start typing away in the grip of some strong emotion and put it out there without thinking it through first. Then, of course, there comes a time when it's just better to say nothing at all. Another hard one for me, when I tend to think any situation can be made better if I can only string together just the right words for it.