the longest little string bean ever
February 4th, 2010
My little sis Janel had another baby last week. His name is Jeffrey Daniel – 7 lbs. 9 ozs. and 22 3/4 inches long. Yeah. Seriously. The nurses literally measured him twice to make sure they’d read that right. I looked back over the pile of baby announcements I’ve made over the last couple years and they’re all somewhere between 18 and 21 inches. I’m hopeful this isn’t to scale or something, otherwise this kid might be 8 ft tall when he’s 17. Regardless, he’s super cute and making women coo over him everywhere he goes.
I tell you what. My sisters were born to be mothers. Seeing them with kids just makes sense. I sat in a chair in Janel’s hospital room last week watching her care for this incredibly fragile human being and couldn’t help but feel like I was living one of those perfect moments, the ones that feel like “the world’s all as it should be.” I’m excited to see Jonathan become a big brother to him, and I can’t wait to find out what Jeffrey’s little personality is going to be like.
(Seriously…look at how long those fingers are. They look like they’re made to hold a basketball. I’m just sayin’.)
Oh…who am I kidding? Like I can only post one pic. Here he is the one time I saw his eyes open.
He’s got my sister’s mouth…which means he’s going to have one super fantastic smile. See? Just look at where he gets it…
one small step for my brain, one large step for my checkbook
February 3rd, 2010
Much has been laid forth for 2010, and all by my own doing, I will admit. I’m a woman who likes progress. I thrive on forward mobility. Too much of staying in the same place and I go crazy. Not necessarily in regards to address – more in regards to personal development. I would like to blame my parents for this. Don and Susan are project-ers. I have grown up in a household where “how was your day?” is not answered simply by “good” or “okay”. Time is to be quantified – for task completion and betterment of life. My dad would spend Saturdays improving the house, and evenings tutoring us in math or physics. My mom earned her Masters Degree while working and mothering and wife-ing, all while also assisting with home improvement projects, tutoring us in English and history, serving on church committees and baking for Girl Scout meetings. Every morning as I would leave for elementary school, even through high school when I wasn’t rolling my eyes and tuning him out, I would head off to school hearing my father declare, “Another day in which to excel!” This, I tell you, has simply been a way of life for me.
I guess it’s a bit about nurture, and probably also a bit about nature. I’m a first born, and a meticulous overachiever to boot. I’m wired to be the Jason Bourne of personal growth. I’m kind of a machine. So it comes as little surprise to me I have a five year plan on my fridge, serving as a daily reminder of how I want to evolve and change into a better version of myself over time. Sure, some of these goals might not be seen as such by others, but I say seeing Bon Jovi in concert has vastly improved my life as I know it. I’m in the process of creating a new five year plan, as my last one “expired” in October 2009. I’m open for suggestions should any of you have ideas.
For now, I’ve decided 2010 is going to be yet another example of forward mobility. I’ve set in motion a three-part system for this:
1) Live as a vegetarian for 365 days (it’s true…one month down, 11 to go)
2) Read a book a month
3) Watch BBC news at least once a week (hasn’t really happened yet, but a girl can dream)
Now, these may seem like obscure choices for me as I set out to become a better woman. They all make sense to me, however, and that, friends, is what matters. I will share more later about points 1 and 3. For now, allow me to expand on point #2.
I’ve never been much of a reader. Mostly, I think, because I’m ADD and no one ever told me. My brain just starts wandering when my eyes hit a page, and before too long, I’m creating a grocery list in my head or wondering where I should vacation next. Unfortunately, for as much as I don’t naturally choose to be a reader, I feel like the older I get, the more I get rhythmic in daily routine. Being stuck in routine makes me feel like I’m not growing. And not growing makes me feel stupid. So I, therefore, have decided to become a reader.
As with most decisions in my life, I become a bit OCD. In the month of January, for example, I read three books. THREE. (Anyone hear a pattern here? Yeah. I know. First with quilts, now with books.) Two of them really shouldn’t count, though. One of them was by Nicholas Sparks. Another was a Christian thriller/romance book passed on to me by my baby sis. I will tell you, coincidentally, that reading the Christian thriller/romance book coinciding with the recent attacks in my neighborhood proved not be the best timing.
I wanted to get some practice under my literary belt so that I would be ready for February because my friend Jen and I decided to start a bookclub. I didn’t want to show up at our first meeting – the one we had assembled and called to order – and not be able to answer the “what’s the last book you read?” question with a more timely response. I mean, c’mon. Who do you take me for? So I read. And I read. And I read. “The Kite Runner,” by the way, was the only legitimate read from January. A huge step in the right direction after last summer’s Twilight obsession. Made me feel like a real grown up tween picking up something that an adult could carry around in public without shame.
Our first book for bookclub is “The Happiness Project” by Gretchen Rubin. Jen and I are excited about it. I will admit I was drawn to the book mostly because the cover reminded me of “Flight of the Concords.” In the end, however, it was the favored choice from the dozen options Jen and I mulled over last night at the local Barnes and Noble. In the gloomy month of February, I can use a bit of sunshine – even if it’s just sunshine in the form of bright, yellow font. I’m that desperate.
Tonight, a fantastic group of women joined together in my new living room to launch said bookclub. I think it’s going to be a grand way to spend a couple Tuesdays a month. I mean, other than the unfortunate, unintentional double-booking with the LOST premier tonight, I can’t really think of a better way to spend a gloomy, cold, February Tuesday. Especially if it makes my house a less likely target for the Waldo rapist with a half-dozen cars in my driveway.
I will say, however, that buying new hardback books is definitely proving to be an unwelcome addition to a very tight budget here these days, as my unexpected master bathroom project has literally proven to be twice as expensive as originally estimated. I am planning on becoming a regular visitor of my local public library in hopes these books will be available. I might have to take the city bus to get there, since I won’t be able to afford gas. And I’m probably headed towards an entire year of eating tuna and mac-and-cheese. The important thing, though? I’m not going to be stupid. My reading muscle will be well exercised and my commitment to self-improvement will be nurtured.
reason #134 why i love my dog
February 2nd, 2010
There’s a serial rapist in the Waldo area of K.C. these days, stalking and attacking single women who live alone. He learns their patterns, their comings and goings, and well…sometimes chooses to wait for them in their living rooms upon their return home. Sometimes he waits for them in their backyards, until they open their backdoors to let our their dogs and then, well…forces his way in. It is literally freaking me out.
I haven’t been sleeping very well, waking up to every sound my house makes as the wind blows against my old windows. Even when I am able to drown out the creepy sounds, I have been dreaming about it all. Just two nights ago I woke up from the deepest part of sleep with my heart in my throat when I, in my dreamlife, had been getting ready in my main bathroom (since my master bath is under renovation…entry to follow soon). I was putting something away in the medicine cabinet and closed it shut, only to (as the door was closing) see his reflection appear in the mirror. It was like a scene out of a thriller movie. There he was, propped casually against the door jam, smirking smugly knowing I was trapped. CREEPY DREAM!! I shot straight up in bed, looked at the alarm (it was 4:17 a.m.), and wondered if this was somehow God’s way of warning me the rapist was in my house. Kodak, meanwhile, was peacefully asleep – not that he would hear anything anyway, regarding a possible break-in, since I can only fall asleep to the sound of white noise, so the loud hum of a space heater lulls both of us to sleep each night. Kodak wouldn’t notice anyone was actually inside my house until he was opening my bedroom door. Now, he might rip the guy to shreds once he opened said door, but this theory has never been tested before. It’s a little disconcerting knowing he would probably only raise his lazy head off his dog pillow and sigh, annoyed he’d been interrupted from his sleep, and then roll back over so he would rest more.
My father talked to me tonight on my cell phone as I entered my home after an run to the Plaza with a friend, listening to me as I checked every room, closet, shower, and storage area for creepers. The coast was clear. He did it last night as well. I’m not sure why this makes me feel safe, or why I would choose to subject my father to hearing me freak out at the realization that I wasn’t alone. I am a cruel, cruel daughter now that I think through how traumatic that would be for him. I guess I just think that he would be able to call the cops knowing I was in distress. Anyway…regardless…having him talk me through the rooms of my house every night makes me feel safe – or not alone, which is half of not feeling safe. Weird logic, but perfect sense when we’re discussing a serial rapist targeting single women who live alone.
In all seriousness, I’m a little on edge around here, not sure if I’m really needing to feel fear at this level. I keep almost all the house lights on at night so I don’t have to wonder what lies in the shadows. I’m also thankful for studio props that I can steal for a couple weeks – it’s great having access to vintage wooden baseball bats I can slide under my bed. My dad thinks a gun is a bad idea. We’ll see. I mean, seriously – you get in my house, I will take you down. That is if I wake up in time. This Ambien makes me sleeply.
it’s just plain ridonkulous
January 31st, 2010
Call me a grammar snob, but I’m not the biggest fan of people making up words. Sure, sure, it’s how our vocabulary grows. Whatever. I just think it makes people sound ridiculous. Or, as some might say in current culture instead – ridonkulous. Right. Like that’s a word.
For those of you who don’t know, I named this blog after a long standing frustration with the word “tornadic”. Let me explain the root of my frustration. It’s – Not – A – Real – Word. Well, I guess it is now (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/TORNADIC), but it shouldn’t be. To say “there’s tornadic activity” seems weird to me. Especially when you’re Katie Horner and you say it 8,000 times in the course of an hour when a storm moves through Kansas City. There’s either a tornado or there isn’t. There might be cloud formations. There might be wind. But unless there’s a tornado, there isn’t a tornado. I rebuttal with the claim you should also then say “there’s hurricanic activity”. But people argue there’s either a hurricane or there’s not. It’s just bad logic.
I had a ridonkulous conversation with Jared over this very thing one night. “The weather’s awfully lightastic out there!” “I’ve never seen weather be quite so thunderific!” All things that follow suit in my brain when people start using words like “tornadic” and they catch on and meteorologists across the nation adopt it as a legitimate descriptor. Jared thought I was being, well, ridonkulous. I knew, however, it was a slippery slope. “Tornadic” was but the gateway drug into a future mayhem of vocabulary debacle. Imagine my shock and awe when watching the weather forecast a couple weeks back when Joel Nichols threw out the word “frizzle”…not only in verbal form, but in text on the graphics screen as he showed the cold front moving into our city. What?!? FRIZZLE?!? Are you serious? People, he was referring to FROZEN DRIZZLE. Oh…frizzle. Right. A clear alternative to simply saying frozen drizzle, because saying frozen drizzle is just too many syllables, I guess. Or, well, maybe he’s a big fan of Snoop Dogg and his music has started to take effect as he speaks to the general public about weather.
I’ve been trying to think of stupid words I could make up to write a blog entry out of words that don’t exist, but it’s taking too much time and effort for a joke I’m sure only I will enjoy. Sorry, kids. And while I’m on it, let me just say I feel like my life somehow has become substantially less entertaining since I’ve stopped dating. All I have to talk about is home remodeling and the weather. Man, I’m lame. I’ll try to start living a life full of adventure and craziness again so you have something to read about. Maybe I’ll start taking fencing classes or dressing Kodak up in outfits each Monday and pulling a play on William Wegman or something just so you aren’t subjected to entries like this. Yeah. Maybe I will.
hello, 2010
January 11th, 2010
It’s been way too long since I updated things here at hurricanic.com. My apologies. As I last shared, I had quite the task ahead of me trying to complete three quilts before Christmas. I’m proud to share, however, that they all were finished, wrapped, and given a few weeks back – and as far as I know, they’re keeping my family awfully warm during this tragically cold and bitter winter we’re having.
I’ve also been busy completing my new living room. I had mentioned something in early November about hoping to continue making my home a place I love dwelling solo. Mission accomplished, I will say. And as I attempt in 2010 to become a more proficient reader, this living room of mine is providing many new places to rest my hind parts as I drift off into worlds and times not my own. Ahhhh…
More than one person has realized I have a trend in my life going. Apparently when a serious relationship in my life ends, I buy furniture. Some people eat ice cream. Others drown their sorrow in alcohol. Me? I redecorate a room. I told several people that there’s reason to this madness. The way I figure, if I can’t change the status of my love life, I can at least change the color of my walls.
To justify this, I will share that I 1) have been saving for this, and 2) had my last furniture for 10 years. It was time for a change. Conveniently, that time corresponded with a break-up. Whatev.
So, without further adieu…a reminder of my old living room…
And now…my fantastic new dwelling spot…
Having more seating room? Awesome.
I’m pretty sure my favorite thing in the room is the green lamp.
The shelving unit? I put it together by myself. That’s right. I’m a real man.
And purple shag carpet? Yeah. I know. It’s…amazing.
I also sewed the curtains. But don’t go getting too impressed. I haven’t hemmed them yet. And…the lining isn’t sewn on entirely straight. But they work for me.
Conveniently, my sister Janel finished working on a quilt she had been making me, so I have a new look to my bedroom, too. Thankfully I already had the furniture, so all I needed for this were new curtains and pillows.
This project actually started last summer when Janel told me she wanted to make me a quilt. She’s hoping over the course of her life to make one of her masterpieces for each of her family members. I, luckily, got to be first in line. We chose a pattern together, as well as all the fabrics, which was a ton of fun. She’s got such an eye.
I think at last count she and her husband figured out she’d logged at least 200 hours in this. Yeah. I know. (My quilts?? No where close.)
Kodak’s pouting because there’s NO way he’s ever allowed on my bed again. (Or the living room furniture.) It’s been a rough transition, but we’re getting there.
And yeah…could that new painting be any more fantastic? I acquired it at a recent art benefit for an almost criminal deal. It’s by my best friend from high school, Jeremy Collins. He’s brilliant. I love waking up to look at this piece everyday. It’s entitled “Seeking Balance”. A good message for me.
So, well, there’s the decorating update. More to follow, regarding things less aesthetic. I hope your 2010 is off to a great start. Mine ain’t been too shabby.
I love the living room blue....your shelf is…