Moved!

We are now located at:

thehappies.wordpress.com

I think you'll find us hipper, happier and snaffoo-less.

Please join us there, unless you'd rather not which is totally understandable.

then it happened

Its hard to tell a story that's within a story, but I'll give it a whirl. One day a while back, I heard the paper shredder and I ran like you've never seen up the stairs, adrenalin pumping wildly in my chest, nightmares filling my mind. Josiah stood on a pleather chair we have positioned perfectly and stupidly next to a tall bookshelf on one side and an "office" table on the other. We would move the chair, but its the only feasible spot for it in our modest house and the room needs a chair. So there it sits perfect for climbing the bookshelf and ideal for getting into "office" stuff like shredders. We usually have the shredder unplugged, but today someone had forgotten. Of course that's the day Josiah notices it for the first time and wonders what it does. No worries, no limbs were lost or appendages severed and Josiah won't go near it ever again.

Here's a different story connected to the first in a sad twist. Eddy is a Bob Dylan fan of the highest order. To say he's just a fan sort of minimizes his affection for the aging icon. Dylan makes Eddy laugh, pause, think, and yes, even worship God. If Eddy had the resources he'd own everything ever eked out of Dylan's mouth, but such it is. We recently acquired a couch from an alley neighbor who grew up with Dylan's(or Robert Zimmerman's) brother. Our neighbor explains Bobby slept on the couch several times. I wish I could draw you a picture of this blessed couch with halos surrounding it, because that's how cool Eddy thought it was when we put it in our living room. (for further reading on this topic see Eddy's defunct blog) Incidently, in the photo above, Eddy insisted on reading his Dylan book with his Johnny Cash book propped up on the coffee table. I questioned the reasoning and he said they just go together, its the way its supposed to be. Ok.)

So that brings us to this morning when Eddy says, "I have something disastrous to show you." He holds out a completely shredded Freewheelin' Bob Dylan cd, his most favorite of all of the cd's. I kind of felt like crying for him but then he told me not to. Sadness. At least it wasn't the couch.

The moral of the story is not to leave things you love near a shredder. Go with that.

big

Conversations with 3 yr olds are repetitive, mostly unproductive but entertaining nonetheless.

As I heaved my un-potty-trained son up onto the changing table for my least favorite of duties, I remarked on his heft. This is what follows:

J: "I'm getting too big, Momma? I'm getting too big for the changeling(his pronunciation, makes me grin) table? My legs don't fit anymore, Momma?" (questions always come in threes, machine gun style)

Me: "Yup, you are, Siah. Maybe we should start using the potty like Emma."

Meanwhile visions of him at 18 spilling over the changing table (like when Tom Hanks wakes up after making the wish in Big-sorry the only clip of that scene I could find is in Spanish, sort of spices it up though) start making me crazy with determination.

J: "Ok. I'm getting too big, Momma?"

Me: "Yup, you are, Siah. Don't you want to wear big kid undies? Wouldn't that be fun?"

J: "I don't want to. I want YOU to change me."

Me: "I don't want to. I want YOU to use the potty." (3yr old conversation tactics kick in)

J: "Ok. My legs don't fit anymore. Can I wear undies right now?"

We have this precise conversation everyday and have for the last couple months. . . he's still wearing diapers. Today we(meaning he) are going commando. If this doesn't work perhaps we'll adopt the weekend boot camp idea.

ps. we're now on flickr for all those child-photo deprived readers out there.

definitionless

My family; imperfect, loud, messy, real, loyal, unified. . .love.

"thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of tress, & for the blue sky & for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes." -e.e. cummings

other places, other things

I have always been that person who, on the day of a test or before something major, checks out or daydreams about after the stress. Its a form of escapism and its rather enjoyable really. I find I'm always more at ease when I've detached from the crisis and am floating high in the clouds. Even as a child I would hum while my parents would be addressing some bad behavior of mine. Probably not the best way to handle every situation, but it comes in handy when I think I've reached my limit(see virtual cigarettes) and not so handy when Eddy and I are arguing.

All that to say, I stumbled onto a wonderful blog called Journey Mama during a recent escape and what a find! This wife and mother of 3 (with one on the way) recently moved to India with her family. She writes so beautifully you won't be able to stop thinking about her. . .and her journey is so gracefully displayed, you will be inspired. Read the 100 Things About Rae it will touch your heart and make you laugh.

--painting by René Magritte, “Decalcomania," 1966--

celebrate

Come if you're able to a benefit/silent auction for Lora and her family. Its more of a celebration with original music by my cousin-in-law Anna Bailey. Joy for the whole family and special appearences by Baby Ruth :)

meditative hooping

One of the best parts of living in our city is the eclectic residents. I read somewhere that 80% of those living in our county are considered eccentric. I feel at home with this percentage, maybe because it reflects more of who I am.

Yesterday as I made my way home from the whole foods co-op(a place I can't get enough of, due primarily to the interesting people you see and meet there, and secondarily to the bulk section in which I must be torn away from or I'd never stop pulling levers and scooping grains) I drove past the most amazing sight. There poised on a hillside front yard a woman clothed in hippie clothes stood in a trance whilst hula hooping and holding a bong. She just stood there as the hoop went round and round her waist, causing her skirt to flow slightly. Her gaze was intent but peaceful. . .and somehow she appeared stress-free, though traffic zoomed loudly below. This was in high contrast to the day I wanted to run from.

As I browsed the web for photos of such a thing I came across this video that isn't what I witnessed, but made me smile anyway. No inhibitions. Apparently "hooping" is huge, who knew?