dear cow goddess & mamas of the world

*sotto voce squeak*

Hathor, yes I am too special. I did too need my hospital and my doctor on call and my episiotomy and the Pitocin and even the little dose of Nubain I took when they ripped open my cervix. I did, and I'm glad they were there. I'm glad that at 19 I was so priveleged to live in this crazy, brilliant time when a gynecological surgeon can give the capacity to bear a child to a woman who, in ages past, may well have been killed at birth for the strange body into which she herself was born.

And my knowledge that I'm really one of a small number of women who really can't just trust her body to birth a baby without help does not change the fact that after I breathe out this little manifesto of me, I can then cheer loudly that you are mostly right.

So scaredy cats of the world, if I can do the warrior birth I did and do it without being numbed from the waist down, you can do it too. And unless you too have had an extra set of all your mama parts choped up to make one good set, and are riddle inside out with tough scar tissue (or other rare complications), your birth will not be as scary as mine. I promise:)

your a.m. dose of geekery

My breakfast time web surfing is occupied today with sussing out the difference between my beloved Century Gothic and Futura. I had always meant to examine them more carefully. Futura has a lower x height (the height of lowercase letters that don't ascend or descend) which makes it a touch less playful and youthful than Century G. Futura is the yummiest for a little bit more of a professional feel. Here is a story of Futura.

Previous to my typophile reading, I was wandering around Hill House Publishers (via that splendiferous Neil blog) and leaving puddles of drool on their website floor. If anyone's feeling like a little giftie, I'll take the 900 freaking dollars, signed, numbered limited edition of American Gods, plz. Thx.

Hopefully knocking out a zine or two will help sublimate these bookmaking urges. Someday when the Birdy's a big girl and we are not flat broke, I'm going to run away to Penland School of Crafts in the mountains in NC and learn bookbinding. *sigh*

a darker colour

Neil Gaiman* posted on his blog an email that included a reference to a T-shirt that reads as follows:

I'm only wearing black until they invent a darker colour**.

Fanfuckingtabulous:) I wonder if slogans are copyrighted. The only version I found is here, and the font is blegh. That tee needs a font like this. In very dark grey***.

*I cannot get over the coolness of the fact that I can read my favorite author's journal. Go blogosphere.

 **And yes, I'm British today. If Robert DeNiro can have an American accent in Stardust, I can be a Brit in my blog.

***See? Still British. Can't help myself; they spell more prettily. Plus there's Neil.

black humor & killing the perfect

We delivered the babe to the grandies so I could sleep. Usually one great night recharges me and I'm OK. (This is, in fact, the case this a.m.) We started to attempt to dig our home out from the chaos, and I was just spinning. Anxiety attack over nothing/everything. Bu was coaching me through it and keeping me focused enough to help him clean the kitchen, all the while clowning and goosing me and trying to keep my head above water. In response, I was annoyed and terse.

Our stove is a hateful 80's electric glass topped thing, and it had crud caked on it. Bu turns to me and asks, "Do we have razor blades?" I deadpanned "God, I hope so," and looked sorrowfully at my wrist. Perfect beat before bursting into hiccuppy crazy laughter. We made Daisy-on-suicide-watch jokes all night long, and it was the perfect tension breaker. Oh, twisted lurve.

Bu also observed that I am really an extremes person. I've had that insight but was kind of impressed the way he was analyzing me. I don't know whether to try to emrace it or "fix" it but it's nice that he discovered my utter inability to understand moderation. I.e. there is no "house is in decent shape" for me. There is beautiful shining order or evil soul killing chaos and so why fucking bother? I can't stand to clean a bit at a time. If I start I take all day and the whole house is perfect.

I'm trying to destroy the idea of PERFECT because I know it's an illusion but it hangs over me everywhere and keeps me in a constant pressurized not-good-enough mindset. I'm journaling a lot on actual paper, trying to symbolically kill Perfect. I wanna make a zine so bad. Maybe I can get started this weekend.

zines, cookies, & an early bedtime

Laura, I got your beautiful card and the zines! Thanks so much. I'm taking them to bed, belly fulla cookies, to crash blissfully. The grandies are giving me a late present of a night of unbroken sleep after several insane nights of constant nursing bordering on mommy torture.

interesting: nasal congestion

...is the leading cause of undereye circles. The culprit isn't, as I believed until 30 seconds ago, nursing a toddler. I'm not super vain, but I like to be on my prettier scale when there's a lot of visiting and photo snapping happening. This means that I have been plastering makeup under my eyes the past few days. I seriously look like hell under there. My eyes look like the gothgirl eyeliner morning-after party night eyes I used to have after coming home at 6 a.m. and waking up still drunk to go to class. I look rough. Feel 'bout the same today. I'm having a day of chugging coffee, googling night-weaning and herbal anxiety treatments (sonzabitchez keep telling me to nix the coffee) and bursting into sudden inexplicable tears.

I need decongestants and a Birdy-at-the-grandies night. We have movie passes, so maybe we can have a date too. So: cinema, sex, decongestants, sleep. We have a plan. I wanna be cute well-rested again.

an aftermath post

Some highlights from Christmas:

• I nearly die from the restraint when my cousin shows me his stash of Buffy comics but I don't want to start reading because of the clingy chocolate covered toddler.


• Bu delights me with his givingness when he puts our Amazon gift certificates together so I can go a little over my share for shipping on my own Buffy* fangirl stuff. The first season's on its way on DVD (yay! completion!), as well as the eighth season in graphic novel form**. And Bu anticipates a new photo book.


• Molly gets my old death trap rocking horse from my Dad and I practice the restraint thing yet again by not gaping and asking him when the hell he got possession of it because I don't remember it leaving our house during Le Divorce.


• My stepmom got me a bunch of pagan parenting books from my Amazon wishlist. Oh how I lurve Amazon. 


• Have a weird little twinge of envy and retro-Daisy Xmas hating when I read Lexie's "just a Tuesday" post. I can haz Hanukkah? lol... Then realize I can choose to be immune to the pressures I allow to creep in and create my own experience. So yay.


• I lie in bed trying to wake up Tuesday morning worrying how to integrate Santa into a UU/pagan upbringing. Worry into a tizzy of religious confusion then decide to be here now and enjoy the moment of my baby girl discovering the wealth of fun things under our little silver laden fake tree and latch on desperately to the fact that most of it is from FreeCycle and it's a tiny step away from consumerist frenzied hell.

*I should troll some BTVS forums and try to get them to read my blog so I can know that someone besides me & Betsy gives a flying stake about my references to Her Chosen Blondness.

**You know how random junk just gets lodged in your consciousness sometimes? Melissa's weird things meme included her aversion to digits in sentences, and ever since reading that I feel a vague twinge of need to write out "eighth" and "first" instead of 8th & 1st like I probably would have done previously.

super quickie stardust review

Copied straight from reply to a Lexie question:

I had a hard time with it. I usually really am OK w/ adaptations- like Harry Potter- they always do great... But ouchie, this is my favorite novel which I've read 100 times (read to Molly in utero!) and it was pretty much assfucked.

There was such subtlety in the book within the plot points and the mood, and the film just really doesn't give the audience any credit. There's a really annoying device in the beginning that tries to be Princess Bride story-within-story that is never even completed and is completely infuriating. But, the casting is good. DeNiro is prrrrretty good, but his gayness is borderline frat boy offensive or something. Claire is great, and her accent is spot on:)

I'll give it another few looks before I write it off. I think a book-less viewer would think it is OK. I also think the dead princes are hilarious but I missed part of that- we did have the Birdy in the room so I wasn't 100% focused.

adult christmas fun

• shots of rum before departing to the grandies' place.* 


• took AAA's out of the vibrator, which I finally found, for the baby's crazy Meowing kitty.


• played all evening with her new phonic teaching toy, making it say dirty words one sound at a time. Fah-Uh-kah.


• now watching Kill Bill Vol. 1 as we bring the Funky Pagan Santa Magic. The setting up of the toys is awesome. (Santa doesn't wrap in our families.)

*We're a little pissed, as we have to head up there first thing in the morning because they are doing Santa for her there, too. She, um, lives here. With us. Who are her parents. Not you, who are grandparents. Stop taking all the shit. Leave us some shit. Dammit.

tina fey

is on Sesame Street. As a pirate. A Book-a-neer.

*dies*

So if you're keeping track, my updated celebrity lesbian love list is as follows, in no particular order. Except #1 Maggie, of course:

• 
  
  teh mags
  
  


• 
  
  Kat McPhee
  
  


• 
  
  Alyson Hannigan
  
  


• 
  
  Tina Fey
  
  


• 
  
  Sara Gilbert
  
  


• 
  
  Claire Danes
  
  


• 
  
  the Kates (Hudson & Winslet)
  
  

Hmm. I know there are more, but I'm drawing a blank. Jodie is awesome but inspires no tinglies per se.

Edit:

And, yes: Drew Barrymore, Portia DeRossi (from way back in Siren...), and Genevieve Gorder.

oh the cheer

Actually, beneath the snark, I'm happily looking forward to tomorrow. My solstice will be spent baking with my mother in law, who is a sweetpea, with toddler underfoot. And we have to shop. We've arrived at a modest budget for the 3 of us and a few selected others and I'm happy with this. Molly also has a good stash of second hand things that are swoon-worthy:)

And I'm getting a chunky razor cut pixie thing tonight-w00t!

buzzkill

Last night:

 Bu is in outer space, being a sexy freelance space ship captain. I sneak upstairs. Very quiet, baby sleeping. Make it to bed victoriously. Sigh and relax and revel in the quiet and having a few minutes of alone time. Begin fervent prayers for the Bird to sleep 10 or 15 more minutes.

Reach out in the dark for my fabulous little Magic Bullet vibrator. Sweet! I have it! Pull it off the night stand, untangle the cord and realize-

It's my fucking breastpump.

Reach for the other device, knock the baby monitor off the stand, curse quietly, wait for baby to wake... OK. I'm good. Now have completely lost the Johnny Depp Jack Sparrow Captain Mal Reynolds whatever story in my head. But I recover, take care of things the non-battery way with a strangely random Katherine McPhee (shut up she is pretty!) and Bu photoshoot fantasy and sleep a while before I'm summoned to the baby's room.

Aaaaaaaaah.

ground me

I feel like a re-entry syndrome thing trying to get back in the routines of life. The week before Christmas is hectic anyway, and the off-kilterness of a couple of trips to That Sterile and Beeping Hell is meshing with a fucked up sleep schedule and a messy home and I feel the exact opposite of grounded.

Tomorrow, with a regular work day and a Solstice Ball at church, I hope to feel like I'm on terra firma again. Meanwhile, Bu and Papaw have Molly's bug, as does every other mom's kid that I speak to today. I remain (knockwoodsprinklesaltgenuflectcrossfingers) un-pukey but my whiny-making cold is back.

******

I missed the blog. It's weird but not weird how much this is part of me and my consciousness. I think of angsty teenege me screaming via scribbles and black paint into my spiralbound notebooks and then I think of me in Women Writers studying the undervalued journaling of women throughout written history and somehow it's just this crazy beautiful miracle that I can put things Out There and they are read. It's so wild.

'nother update

Edit: she checked out fine. Even gained a few ounces- wtf? My milk is actually heavy cream apparently...lol. And she was hilarious with her silly active playfulness all evening:)

So the doctor's office finally called back. They sent us back to the ER, who kept us three hours then sent us home. The snarky highlight of the day: the nurse who tried to get us to pop her off the boob to take a popsicle, because "we need to get more fluids into her," and my milk, apparently is what? a solid? gas? sand from the Ghobi Desert? (Gwen & everyone, that's so not a slam on the popsicle idea- it is a great plan, but she's having none of it. The timing/wording was just hilarious.)

 At any rate, she wasn't really dehydrated and she's kept her nummins down all day. We have a check up tomorrow afternoon but hopefully things are back to normal, or at least SNAFU/toddler normal.

fun with snail mail & birdy update

First, I want to mail you a holiday card. Email me your snailmail addy:)

Second, we're still worried about the Birdy. She's feeling awful- very listless and insanely clingy. Puked again during the night, but just once. Not taking in anything but breastmilk in little bits, not peeing enough. Her mouth is whitish inside, which some lay person told me is a sign of dehydration. So I'm waiting for the doc to call back. The thought of checking her back in to the hospital makes me wanna cry, but if she needs IV fluids again, what can we do? Fuck.

spewapalooza

We spend Friday night and most of today at the hospital. Molly was vomiting explosively the whole time, like several times an hour. Dehydration and IV's ensued. There was a quiet arguement about whether breastmilk is a clear fluid diet approved thing- it is but I lost. Nursed her anyway. Realized this only meant a higher volume of puke.

 Anyway, we're home. She nursed like crazy and had one sicky, but I think it was just too much too fast. Still, I'm going to actually follow orders and do Off Brand Infant Electrolyte Drink with small amounts of teh nummins as demanded by the Boue for lovies.

Oh, and to add to the fun fest, she fell out of her metal baby cage crib of death. On my watch, of course. So they freaked and did little eye and motor tests. She's fine. It was just a head bump.

Molly is supergirl. She is the bravest, sweetest child ever. I'm exhausted.

authentic

Nag Champa incense is the scent of my authentic self. I didn't realize this until Marianne's beautiful package arrived from Sonoma. This mama is an incredible gifter. I'm so floored by this stuff I can't believe it. And it all smells like the Nag Champa she included:) This is the secent of my mom, of my first apartment, of dating Bu and sex and stoned immaculate moon-eyed wild new love. I have been in a radically different mindset since her package arrived. Also included is an adorable little tin with homeopathic stress gummies! These little darlings are wicked- seriously, they are rocking my crazy parts like a swaddled baby. I'll post photos soon of the three of us in our compliments-of-Busha-hats:) Molly and me have hats she knitted for us and Bu has one from Nepal. Bu loves Nepal. His fascination with the region is partly why he's my Buddha. (Again, it's not about the belly.)

Along with general creative mojo flowing

thinking less would be a Good

but I can't seem to stop second guessing every little thing. Is it un-empowered or something to crybabyblog about having a horrible period and how I feel like Jekyll/Hyde chick when I menstruate? Does it negate the Goddessy love I have for the idea of my bloodcycle? Is it antifeminist to say chick? Is it anti-crunchy to bitch about how the baby always does the 24 hour a day leech nursling mommy torture when I'm on my period? Is it culturally/linguistically responsible to use the word bitch in a negative sense?

Does anybody give a shit? More importantly, does anyone have any fuckin' chocolate?

jodie squee

She's out, finally. Of the most transparent closet in recent lesbian history, but still. It is my second favorite coming out story ever. And amen like crazy to this:

Perhaps, though, we should cut Jodie some slack. I don't recall Nicole Kidman, say, having to "announce" her heterosexuality. The fact that the grand gesture of "coming out" is still a big deal just shows that most straight people still assume everybody else is heterosexual. The advantage for Jodie is that she only has to come out once. Non-celebrity lesbians and gay men have to do it every time they meet someone new.

...or you could just pull a Daisy & wait until people ask you point blank and then say that yes, you are unstraight. Granted, this is a priveleged and blase attitude that really only applies to a heteromonogamous but bisexual married mom. So, to recap: Jodie, you rock like Barney Doogie Neil, and vaguely queer mamas with wedding bands = straight privelege + mild guilt.

please forgive any blips or glitches...

as I refine my working layout of images from The Great Doodle Scanstravaganza. Or Sketchapalooza. Or La Dia De Los Skully Lurv. Or whatever. The skeleton (har har har..) is still from Not That Ugly.

Also, for testing purposes, I am needing of the block qoutes and the bulleted lists. So, I give you superfluous Buffy stuff:

My Top  5 6 Buffy Episodes:

• Once More With Feeling


• The Wish


• Dooplegangland


• Hush


• Smashed


• Selfless

And the best Xander moment ever, also the best lyrics from OMWF, and also my favorite Wicca reference in series history:

"It could be witches, some evil witches,
which is ridiculous 'cause witches they
were persecuted Wicca good and
love the Earth and woman power
and I'll be over here..."

As always, thanks for indulging me.

the l word

Just so you know, I did not spend my lunch googling Shane from The L Word because of lesbian lust.* I covet her hair. And I haven't even seen the show.

 *OK, so there is a little bit of that now. I saw this icon on LJ; it rocks:



(Which is funny on another level, too, if you know Bu's real name.) Maybe I need an icon that says "I'm straight unless you're Maggie." But I feel squicky calling myself straight even though I'm so very, very married and breederish.

just so you know

the holiday template is by not that ugly. not by me. because she (? he?) rocks hard and needs credit. no time to make new graphics, so i steal. borrow. give link love. whatever. will try to sleep now k bai.

what is better than valium

Draw a warm bath. Fill with lavendar bubbles. Plop in there with your cutey freakin patootie nakey baby. Put bubbles on your nose. Carefully transfer bubbles to baby's nose a la "eskimo kisses." Watch her laugh. Repeat until giddy and you have forgotten all about everything that saps your giggles.

for bine and anyone else wondering why the hell

The circular part is confusing people. One person in my graphic design forum says it looks like birth control pills...lol. It's already, in our minds anyway, an established part of our brand so I think it stays. Maybe I can do some fun easter eggy hidden page about the symbol when I redo the website. Bu actually named the company after our dog Dharma:) I love it. The transcenant Buddhist thing meets the earthy grounded animal world. And alliteration is yummy.

yay. ear infection. two of them.

The Scene: A crowded doctor's office full of a stuffy, cranky, clingy Mollybird and similar peers.

Daisy: I'm worried about her congestion. She's rattly. And her dad says she pulled at her ears.

Dr. Who Reminds Me of Wendy, an old friend: Let's see here. *looks in ears* Ouch. Oh yeh, they're really bad. I'm going to give you some amoxicillin.

Daisy: *granola and college credit hours oozing from every pore* I just read that most ear infections are viral (nod @alexis)... I hate to use antibiotics we don't need. Can you culture her ears to make sure?

Dr. Wendy-esque: We don't do that culture here because you have to stick a needle into her eardrum and

Daisy: Yeah, nevermind. Antibiotics are fine. K Thx Bai. *slinks away, granola left scattered on the floor pouting. Then baby freaks out, and the boob is out, and the granola puffs up a little bit again as Proud and Yet Not In Your Face Public Toddler Nursing Mama takes over.*

So we are doing the antibiotics and I'll get some yogurt for her yoni and the gawdawful rash that will probably ensue. And now I'm off to another doctor visit, this time for my yoni, for Ye Olde Pap Smear and probably me losing even more crunchy points by begging for birth control pills that will make me be not a demonic bitch-face for 25% of my life. And also assure that the reign of the Triangle Family can continue inhindered by extra accidental babies happening.

the pittsburgh sketches #3 (stonehenge)

(Click thumbnail)

*Edit* You'll see in the sketch a note-to-self to "google Steve Stanton, Largo FL discrim case." I saw this in a Newsweek in the lobby of the (crazy high security because of awesome-if-you-are-a-geek communications technology which is sold to NASA) building where Bu taught.

Stanton was fired from his city service job in an unfuckingbelievable blatantly discriminatory vote after his announcement that he is undergoing sexual reassignment surgery. The comments everywhere by some council members are so goddamn stupid my brain sobs with it.

the pittsburgh sketches #2 (self portrait)

(Click thumbnail)

new logo. thoughts?

Critique?
Reactions?
Sabine?
Kathy?
Melissa?
Other keen-eye-for-design-peeps?

I'll go ahead & link you to the vomit that is the former company ID, then I'll get real-me-in-the-real-world paranoia & remove it later:)

handwritten post + bonus mousies!

from Bu's class in pgh:

the pittsburgh sketches #1 (frida)

(Click thumbnail)

molly guest post

best artsy gift idea, evar!

Laura and I were goofing off at work having a very productive meeting of the minds yesterday* and the subject of zines came up. I'm dying to make one and get into reading them. I've seen a couple in actual real life and perused a bunch online. She linked me to Sweet Candy Distro, and then told me about their Candy Cluster Club, which is the freakin' sweetest thing I've seen in a while. I'd totally start up my own thing like this if I had unlimited time & cash. They call it their Candy Cluster Club, and you pay $50 to join. For a year, they send you a handmade object or zine eaach month- tailored to your tastes from a questionnaire. Is that fabulous or what? If I had some cash I'd get this for um, everyone. I don't, of course, so I share the giddy link love.