 As a kid, it was easy to understand the 4th of July. It was my Dad's birthday. My mom was born on the 3rd of July, and so - the fireworks were all about birthdays and parental egos. As I got older and learned (from sources other than my parents) that Independence Day was a celebration of something bigger, it became - well, one of those things I guess. Celebrate, grill, be annoyed by bottle rockets well into the early morning hours. Don't think much, just eat, drink, be merry. Much later, and now as I think about teaching my own child about the world, I wonder more and more what we're all about over here. In America I mean. Another holiday to celebrate a victory in war and destruction. We celebrate our "freedom" by a showy display of pyrotechnics, even as we impose our own democratic will on countries around the globe. We display flags and dress in red, white, and blue to show how patriotic we are, but what are we celebrating? The luck of having been born here? Does that patriotism extend to our responsibility as a country for things like extinction of species through our greedy deforestation, our enormous impact on our global climate, or how war is impacting the world wide economy? As someone who was born here, as a person who's ancestors saw opportunities on this soil - I'm grateful for the liberties I have. Those principles as defined by the Declaration of Independence, as pure statements, are beautiful at heart. But I guess what I'm saying is that America today feels to me a lot like the big, bratty, spoiled, child of the globe - and today feels like yet another episode of "My Super Sweet 16". photo: 42-15396303| Value RM| © Anna Peisl/zefa/Corbis
A fresh jar of peanut butter. And a butter knife.
 | T.E.N. | Jul 1, '08 10:04 AM
for everyone |
 1) It's 10 AM, and I don't know where my Californian is. 2) I need a week to recuperate. 3) I wonder what's for lunch. 4) Strapless bras are torture. 5) My nose is shiny with sunburn and it's distracting. 6) Is it weird that I can see my shiny nose out of the corner of my eye? 7) Bing isn't feeling up to par. 8) I need to buy toilet paper today. 9) And milk. 10) And maybe some lettuce. That sounds good.
Boy oh boy. What adventures we're having!! I hardly know where to start with my recap. Together, we've done everything from buy cat food to stand in the bedrooms of the Vanderbilts. Good stuff.  And yes, there's also been some mayhem. I'm pretty sure the trouble started here. Saturday, In line for a tour of "The Breakers" - a must see Mansion of Newport RI. T'was hot. I faded fast as the tour went on and all I could think of was pressing my face on the cool marble surfaces. Somehow - I didn't think it appropriate. We headed for home.  But wait.
A real live New England rocky beach, complete with water breaking on the rocks.
Back in the car, it happened. I smelled what was apparently rotting seaweed.
My stomach flipped. It was all over.
Luckily, Matt can pull over on a moment's notice, and did so sporadically throughout Connecticut as I got an up close and personal view of the side-of-the-road foliage.
Which brings us to Sunday.
 After breakfast, a trip to Old Navy (seriously, nothing fits anymore), and the book store - we were off to the Nature Preserve.
It was very cool to sit in the flowers with a fellow photo buff and chitter chat away.
It was turning out to be a nice walk, sun behind a cloud - decent lighting, a bit of a breeze to help with the humidity.
Eventually though, the sun came out with a vengeance. Hot. Humid.
Yuck.
We trucked back up the hill to the car, eager for air conditioning and lunch.
Uh huh.
Keys, in my bag. In the car. With my phone. Susan's phone - same fate.
I won't go into the complete saga of how we got home, but lets just say that this morning I'm sunburned and thankful that Susan talks to strangers.
Flat Sandy came to lunch with us.
 Having too many choices (not to mention the inability to hold a pencil) Flat Panda took the helm and ordered for her. 
And once she got a whiff of our dessert - the Hot Bag of Donuts?
She was sold.
 Mmmm... Hot Bag of Donuts. To finish out our day we sat out a brief torrential downpour, then headed to a couple of my favorite photo spots.  Today we're off to Boston. I'm packing water, oyster crackers, spare keys, and sunblock! Wheeeee!!!!!!
 All looks well, and the munchkin was an active little bugger. I think it looks like Matt. Or... well, King Ramses - but then, I watch too much Discovery Channel.
 Right. So. Today I found my eyeshadow. It happened quite by accident. My finding it I mean. It was another one of those things where I was putting something away in the bathroom, noticed how unruly my drawer had become... yadda, yadda, yadda... here's my eyeshadow. It's um, a trio of color. I clearly remember it being so. Back when it was purchased for my wedding. in 2001. I've decided that sometime in the upcoming days, I will buy myself some eyeshadow. I will. I will don it with style and grace, and in un-clown-like fashion. But, I'm not going to the MAC counter, my reason is two-fold: First of all, MAC intimidates the bejeezus out of me. I'm not gonna lie. I was friends with a girl who worked there, and she shaved her eyebrows so that she could draw them in with eyeliner until she had the money to get them tattooed on. Seriously. Did you read that? And yeah, we were friends - she was cool. It was like hanging out with a piece of living Pop Art. Thing is, put all that art together behind a counter - and it turns into SOHO. Very cool, but unapproachable and if you don't know what you're talking about, your looked at as if you've mistaken them for "Clinique". Pshaw. Secondly, I really need for Susan to meet my local Walgreens cosmetic lady. Her bright pink scrunci often matches her bright pink sweater, and she's incredibly helpful. I mean... really. Helpful. I'm standing there poking at mascara, and I'm sidled on the left. "Yeah. That one's great. Just so you know, the blah blah is 30% off" "Great" I say, more so in a startled gasp with my hand still over my heart. I head over to the vague area that she pointed. Sidled, on the right. "Have you ever tried blah, blah, blah-blah?" Every time I turn, she's there. Everything I look at, she anecdote-ly tells me about. The other day I mentioned something to Matt while walking through (not stopping mind you) and her head popped up from behind a rack to make a comment. Feel the fear susan. Friday we shop.
Now that it's noon, and I have about 2 things from my 200 point To-Do list accomplished, I sit to reflect. I share my findings.
The Smart Way to Clean a Kitchen:
Start at one end of the room.
1) Pick up clutter, put things away.
2) Wipe surfaces with appropriate cleaner.
3) Dishes, if applicable.
4) Sweep.
5) Wet Swiffer, or use that funky floor cleaning machine thing.
*If time and energy allows, when all other to-do's are complete, return to do some detailed dusting etc.*
The Jaime Way to Clean a Kitchen:
Start at one end of the room.
1) Pick up clutter, put things away.
2) As you put away the masking tape, and notice the Junk Drawer is unruly? Organize it.
3) And aren't the cabinets kinda dirty too? Clean those.
4) Now that you've got a sponge out, wipe surfaces.
5) Don't forget the tops of the fridge, dishwasher door, and oven door.
6) Wow, the oven is kinda gross. You know what to do.
7) Now that rag you're using needs to be washed. Go throw a load of laundry in.
8) You'd work better with music ya know.
9) Un-install the ipod from the old laptop.
10) re-install it on the new laptop.
11) carefully select music of today's taste to go on a playlist.
12) Notice it's lunch time.
13) Check your e-mail while you've got the laptop open.
14) Now that you're finally back in the kitchen making lunch, get started on cleaning it.
1) Why oh why do I love the oyster cracker?
2) Oh right, because they're scrumtrellescent!
3) Hmmm, Matt's not at his desk.
4) Nor his cell.
5) Huh, ditto IM.
6) All this technology makes me appear stalkeresque.
7) How weird is it that Iced T is in one of the most popular TV drama's.
8) The rapper, not the drink.
9) The rapper, not the wrapper.
10) Chris didn't even notice that in my second video yesterday my toenails were painted, and that's just really sad.
Bonus 11) It's even more sad that her opinion of my toenails is the ONLY reason I chose THAT particular clip to post.
Say it with me: Lame, Jaim.
*the author is not responsible for whatever the above photo may or may not say.*
| GACK! | Jun 23, '08 11:23 AM
for everyone |
All the live long day I've been trying to post videos for you.
The blog is written. In draft status.
The videos are uploaded. Also in draft status.
The whole plan has gone to pot. First because of my own doing, and now because of a Multiply glitch that won't allow me to make take my vids out of "draft", ergo you can't see them, ergo I can't paste em in the blog that's just sitting there waiting for them. In draft status.
BUGGAH!
I've written to Multiply, and trust that the issue'll be resolved. Post. Haste.
Stay tuned.
In a blatant yet misguided attempt to entertain you this morning, I recorded not one, not two, but several videos.
As it turns out, they served not only this purpose, but also aided me in organizing myself for the long few days ahead as I get ready to welcome my visitor from California. Turns out, there's a lot to do and in my videos I invite you to come along as I explore the doings that need... uh, doing.
Here's where it all unravels.
After a photo-journalistic tour of my house, and no less than a dozen video snippets (which I FULLY intended on editing cleverly together to form a side splitting montage) I left my new laptop busily about the task of encoding (translating) my video while I ran out to drop off 700 shirts at the cleaners.
It was finished when I returned.
To make a long, frustrating story short, my new computer is smarter than I. It chose to encode my videos to a format that no editing software I have recognizes, and I have no encoder that .... eh. Suffice it to say, I blew it.
So. Here in meager form are but two snippets for your viewing hassle, bah! My brief intro, and but one of my many tasks. Together less than two mins, but requiring two clicks. (harumph).
First, thank you Sandy, for your fabulous flat post that reminded me to put this out there. As I think the universe knows, Susan will be here in less than ONE WEEK for a whirlwind tour of Connecticut and the surrounding area. If all goes according to plan, we'll be in Mass, Rhode Island, and who knows - with my keen sense of driving direction, possibly Vermont! It is with these adventures in mind that I offer up an exclusive opportunity. Join us. That's right.  Via "Flat Stanley" mode of travel, send one of us a .jpg of yourself that we can print and tote along on our journey! Last year, Flat Jaime traveled to exotic locations such as Alaska, Hawaii, Wales, Canada, NY, MA, ... I know I'm forgetting some. So, if you've always dreamt of touring the rocky New England coastline, seeing colonial America, heck - spending an afternoon kicking back with a couple rockin chicks, not to mention meeting your flat multiply brethren... Send your flat selves pronto! You've got till Wednesday, beyond that I make no promises.
Of all spices in the universe, I find myself out of paprika.
I'm pretty sure that in my adult life, I've never run out of a single spice. Most of the time, I buy a jar of this or that for a specific recipe - use my half teaspoon, and there it sits. For years.
Yes, I know - even spices have a shelf life. But really.
So imagine my surprise when I turned my paprika jar upside down to score a whopping 2 tablespoons, and came up with... less than half that. I mean really. What have I been doing? Making deviled eggs in my sleep?
Anyway...
This brings me to today's adventure: the grocery store, which I do find myself frequenting far more often now that I'm uh... with child. I've eaten every bit of peanut butter I can find in the house (even super chunk, which... blech) and I DARE you to find a carbohydrate I haven't devoured.
I'm off.
My class yesterday took a fascinating twist.
No, there was no strange magic teaching fellow explaining his theory of the universe, but yes my inner-nerd busted forth in all her glory once again. This time though, I didn't care as much - I was so wrapped up in the conversation.
Little had I known that the book I read a few weeks ago in preparation for this class is as amazingly deep as it is. We discussed the biblical symbolism, from Adam and Eve to Job that were subtly written into the plot.
We spent a lot of time, however, on a main theme buried within. Two characters - one of whom firmly believes in the divine - God's control of his life - and a contrasting character who believes that humans control their own fate. He plans and plots things down to details.
It came down to this: what is life all about?
- Chance
- Human Choices
- The will of the Divine
Good question, and one for the ages. Now - if you think you have the answer, how do you know? How does anyone know?
I recently read that a person can only know something if:
- the thing is true.
- the person believes it.
- the person is justified in believing it.
So. How much do we know?
As I prepare to embark upon journey of journeys (to my infamous "Book Class") I realize that many of you may not be familiar with my previous adventures. For your enjoyment, I've included them here. (Excluded is the tale of the class that I never got to because I got lost in the school then got a flat, nay - SHREDDED tire on the way home). A Review of my Book Review Class Calm Cool and CollectedI'll let you know how it goes.
I don't think I'd be far off if I guessed that you know someone stupid.
Of course, it's you who thinks they're stupid. It doesn't necessarily make them so - I mean, everyone has something they know well. Everyone has a forte in which they'd be considered "smart".
But man. I know some people with serious education that are dumb. You probably know what I mean. People who can calculate advanced equations, but for some reason when it comes to the rest of the world... forget it.
Here's where I think it's nuts though. Our society totally fosters this. People I know go around quoting political soundbites about serious topics. They have no opinion of their own. People are so wrapped up in themselves, their own lives, that it seems like too much hassle to learn anything new unless it's spoon fed.
The news leads us around by the nose. They tell us what's important in life, they post cameras outside Hillary Clintons house to catch a glimpse of her on her way to deliver a concession speech and cover it as if it's too important NOT to discuss.
Three reporters, on split screen and one live still shot of a front door. Seriously?
I'm ranting, but I'm saying what I've said before. Why don't we think? As a society, as a culture - we don't think. How are we surviving?
In about six months, my very best friend will become a Dad.
It's a new thought for me this Father's Day. In years past I've thought about my own dad, my grandfather, my brother...
This year, I'm thinking of my partner in parenthood. The guy who has some mystical power over little kids that makes them laugh and laugh. The guy that little girls love to antagonize. The man who loves to teach.
I don't know what kind of parents we'll be, but when I get scared about being a mom - I think about Matt being a dad and it makes me feel like things are gonna be okay.
What a journey.
Originally, I was gonna post the lyrics to Karma Chameleon by Culture Club here - but really, they make little sense.
What I'm getting at is the kind of person who bends and flexes to his or her environment. Know any?
Now wait, there's a difference I need to make clear. I fully believe that every person has various facets to their personality. With some friends, I'm goofy and giggly. With others, I have serious conversations. Some people might even be surprised to see me behaving a certain way.
But - the thing is, I'm always ME.
The Chameleon I'm talking about is one who is full of contradictions. They like ABC when talking to one person, but switch the crowd and XYZ is the way to go.
In fairness, I suppose I spot these people because for years, I did the same. I wasn't aware I was doing it - but in an attempt to "fit", I changed my mind with the tides. One person could tell me it was day, and another it was night. Depending on who I was talking to, either argument sounded valid to me.
Oy vey!
I bring this up because I seem to be a chameleon magnet. Possibly because now that I've identified it, I have a strong personality. I find people bending and flexing to what I say, not because of ME, but because of them. I hope that makes sense.
I once had a friend who made up elaborate stories (including the murder of his sister by his father's Mexican drug cartel) just so he could relate to me. Someone close to me died... him too. He laughed at what I laughed at, he liked the food I liked. I didn't realize how different he'd become, I just thought he was amazing.
Only after getting away (things got... strange) did I realize that this guy was just a mini-me. A clone of myself. I was friends with a myth, it was like he never existed. Strange.
So, why does this happen? I understand how it happened to me, but still - I lack tolerance for that type of behavior. I want to shake people and say - "Don't you SEE?" You have no identity! No self. For crying out loud!
*Sigh*
I'm working on having patience, and more so, I'm working on spotting and keeping chameleons at arms length. It's hard though, to be both accepting and cautious at the same time.
photo: AB008015| RM| © Martin Harvey/CORBIS
 For a while now, a strange phenomenon has been occurring in our laundry. Orange-ish splotches that weren't there before, suddenly appear after coming out of the dryer. It's beyond strange. Some are pinprick spots, some are quarter sized swaths. They're not always round, they vary in darkness, and they target everything from undies to dress shirts - but not in every load. I know. 
The latest victim?
Matt's brand new khaki's. That's right, a small, but noticeable spot - right on the keester.
It was determined that the placement on the cheek would indeed draw attention, and that was it. Matt was fed up.
I told him again that I thought it was rust. From what? From where? I know not. But time and time again I've soaked, scrubbed, and re-laundered to no avail.
I decided it was time to bring out the big guns. While wandering aimlessly through the grocery store, I stumbled upon this product. The front says:
"Safely and easily removes stains from: white sinks and white toilet bowls, colorfast fabrics and carpet" I snapped it up.
 Before using it I took a gander at the directions which I looked at in the store, but I'll admit - I didn't read in depth. Just below all the poison information - including a special phone number to call if this product comes in contact with your skin, eyes, hair, internal organs, pets, friends or relatives, there are uppercase directions: "Wear heavy duty household gloves...avoid contact on any surface not included in directions including: bathtubs, countertops, stainless steel sinks, and glass."  Riiiight. It was at that point that I decided the way this stain remover must work is to actually burn a hole through the fabric. Stain gone. However, being determined to beat the rust - I donned a mask (yes, there was a warning about inhaling fumes as well), told my kiddo to hold his breath and look the other way - and found some gloves.  Taking no chances, I opted for the industrial strength rubber-evil-scientist gear.  Even though they're slightly large on me. Feeling prepared, I completed step one: dampen fabric. Done. Step two? Simply pour the dangerous-ass liquid directly on the stain. But wait. Don't get it on countertops, sinks, bathtubs or glass. I briefly thought about heading outside in the 105 degree heat, but then it hit me.  The only waterproof surface in my house that's safe for this product? My white toilet. I'm not proud, but yeah - I did it.  And LOOK! Here's the payoff!! It WORKED! Now I have to wash 'em a dozen times so that Matt's bum doesn't blister and fall off or something. So, in conclusion - I was gonna write a product review for "Rust Stain Remover" - and say that it works like a charm, but I really felt that I couldn't fully capture the experience of using it without a full photo blog. You're welcome.
I've been thinking about this topic for a while now, but hesitating to blog about it. It's controversial - which I've never shied away from - but I'm leary. Maybe I'm a fool, but this is still my blog - and therefore, I'm gonna write about what's on my mind. I ask that if you express opinions, they're respectful of each other. (Deep breath) Here we go.  Regardless of how you feel about this man, I think it can be said that John Lennon was a creative genius.
Skipping over the phenomenon that was The Beatles, I'm writing about the last decade of John's life. The time when he and his wife worked on changing the world.
It's a common thought that Yoko Ono changed John. Made him strange and political. Turned him into something that he wasn't.
Having never known either of them, all I can say is that I doubt it. John himself rebuffed those comments, saying that he was happy just to be with someone as strange as he always had been.
But, that controversy is moot I think. Together, they were what they were, and that's not what I'm writing about either.
What I'm getting at is that as an activist, John simply wanted peace. It caused such a stir in the community, in part, because it was such a simple notion. Just... stop fighting. I suppose it sounded naive, partly because of the voice behind it. After all, did we question the naivete of Gandhi when he delivered the same message?
My question is this: In a time when so many of us want an end to war - where's our voice? Together with other political radicals, John Lennon held demonstrations where millions sang "Give Peace a Chance" in unity. He was so influential that the Nixon administration worked on having him deported.
Where is that voice today? We have nobody urging us to question what we're being told. We believe that we can't "Just Stop" fighting, because that's what the news says, what the politicians say, and what we just sort of nod and accept.
If so many of us are tired of war, sick of the fighting, fed up with death and destruction - why don't we stand up? It's hard to believe that our generation is "lazier" than the one protesting in the 70's - I'm sure fewer of us are constantly stoned, for one thing.
And, what if we DID unite? What if we marched up to the White House, or the Lincoln Memorial and sang songs about peace? Would we be ostracized as a "Ciny Sheehan"? Would they roll their eyes and think us obtuse? Maybe. But if you can imagine a world united in peace - it kinda seems worth it.
Photo: © Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS
 I wouldn't say it's every day that he brings home a "gift", but this year - it's been rare for him to come home without. My demon cat has now polished off 7 bunnies, 3 chipmunks, and a mouse. I'd think him a serial killer, but his MO changes too often. Anyway, that's not exactly what I'm writing about. Through this massacre of wildlife, Bing has begun to change the very eco-system of my yard. That's right. He's bio-Bing. It starts like this. Bing meows in a very peculiar way, and I go to the door to find him with something in his mouth, or at his feet. By that point - if he's interested in consuming any part(s), he's done with that business - and once he leaves his kill, he's done with it. I scowl, let him in - ask him what his problem is - and I leave the creature for Matt to dispose of. It's always been this way. But then one day, I noticed Bing's discarded half-bunny was ... simply ... gone. I quickly deduced that it hadn't hopped away, being - you know - half a bunny. Both cats were inside. Curious. The next day, another bunny AND a chipmunk... gone. The plot thickened.
 If you've ever seen Pulp Fiction, perhaps you recognize this character.
"The Cleaner".
He's called in to "clean" the interior of a car, including the gunshot victim in the back seat.
As it turns out, Bing has a "Cleaner".
Although it wasn't wearing the giveaway "Cleaner bow-tie" I'm still pretty sure I've identified the culprit. A fox. Uh huh - a real live little fox comes around and picks up after my cat. Quite the feast methinks. So. Now, the hawks and owls are gone, since there's hardly any mice or chipmunks to speak of. The bunnies... I can only imagine the supply is running low. AND - the kicker? We've got a lurking fox. Just this morning most of a mouse was gone from the front stoop.  Some times, seriously, I look around and think... "Where AM I??"
| |
