Monday, April 30, 2012


I'm a working girl.

I got a part-time, mostly weekends job at Casey's running the register. It isn't glamorous, and most days I come home exhausted with garbage "juice" all over me, but it's helping us make it to our goals, and for the first time in a long time I feel like I'm contributing and that we're on our way to where we want to be.

In other news, JP has an interview tomorrow for another security job, but here in town, which, even though it's less per hour, would save us $40 a week on gas, plus he'd get an extra 2 hours that he's not driving to spend with us! Hopefully he gets it.

Willow's freaking adorable. Every day I love this little girl more and more. She's the cutest, funniest, smartest little girl. She's the best thing I ever did.

In other happy, funtime news, I'm seriously looking into becoming a doula. I've actually had becoming a doula and a lactation consultant on my bucket list for a while and it just hit me about a week ago that I can actually do those! So, I'm going to be looking into training for those so that I can talk about lactivist/intactivist stuff with someone other than JP (who's heard it way too many times to care anymore!).

That's about it. This tired girl should go to bed.


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

back to basics

Just a poem. First draft. Written forever ago. I wrote one today for my yiayia (grandma, in Greek) who died yesterday. I'm not quite ready for that one, so, enjoy.

You snort roofies through a paper cup
Hoping to drown yourself and let the
Numb rape your existential memories
Into dumb creatures staring at you like sheep.
Let the cavernous hole in your brainheart
Be filled by the smoke of the bubbler
Crowd surfing over your larynx and
Into your lungs. Let it make you forget that
There is hunger in the world and in
The pit of your stomach.
Shoot powder mixed with liquid life
Into your aorta and watch it bring
Color back into your cheeks and
Wonder at the thumpcraziness
Of your crazy beating heart.
Bake dreams into chocolate chunk cookies
And let the newness register in your
Stomach lining until you become
Happydrunk with the concept that
You can escape from the reality
That you have so carefully tried to
Avoid by using excuses not to face your
Biggest mistakes.


PS. I'm blogging more. Aren't you happy? 

Monday, April 23, 2012

6 months and a few odd days

My nibblet's half a year old. Seriously. Here she is, in her JSB owl dipe, smiling at something hilarious I said. We went to the zoo on Sunday with some new friends and their son. She wasn't too interested, but she did seem to like the monkeys. Since then, we've been making monkey noises and she thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. :]

She: says mama, babababa, still blows raspberries, fake laugh/coughs, once said "gu day" on accident, and loves things she can't have. Her favorite parts of her toys are the tags, she's tried apples, bananas, carrots, and a bit of watered down apple juice but her favorite thing is still boobie milk. She loves banging her toys on the floor/table/surface of anything, throwing them, chewing on them and waving them around. Her favorite person is still JP, with my mom as a close second. She's given JP kisses, tries relentlessly to eat his tattoo, and likes dancing and talking with my mom. She loves walks, and trying to eat sticks, grass and flowers. She likes cuddles, tickles, Baby Einstein, taking baths, napping in our arms, when we sneeze and trying to steal our food.

This kid. . I love this kid so much. She's the best. Right now she's making a surprised "Ah?!" noise at her toys. . and yelling at them. She's the coolest. I could snuggle her all day. She's my favorite reason to smile, and making her smile and laugh is my mission on earth.

She's the perfect baby and I couldn't imagine life without her. <3


Thursday, April 19, 2012

ode to the girl in somber

 I wasn't going to post this. It's a first draft.
But today would have been Raven's 20th birthday. This is my present. It's all I can give. 


You never looked at me without looking deeply.
Piercing through me, your eyes made a beeline for my heart,
And there- you found something that belonged to you.

Passing notes and pictures back and forth
While the preacherman soliloquized about hope,
We found it, buried among ferns and thorns.

“Softly,” you said, “don’t break my consentration”,
But I barreled through your brain on awkward stilts
Just to press my lips to your consciousness.
I call this place home.

I’ve never eaten ice cream with a fork.
I have never attacked it, forced it to bleed before
Letting it drip through my lips like pearls of butterscotch.
You were a huntress.

I was far away the day you set sail,
Singing noisily, breathing through your nose,
Holding flowers to lay at your gravestone.
I would have stayed and sang with you.

Lately, every breath has a silver lining,
And this frigid winter may be ending
But I find no solace in this.
Winter is where I have made my home
And I have never ventured into spring.
You were my first reason.