What We're Up To

The new house is rocking my world. I finally have a patch of dirt to call my own and shape to my liking. And shape I am.

Yes, she had to sample the dirt to ensure its "yummies" for the plants. Thank goodness she didn't drink the liquid fish fertilizer......

Our back yard is the biggest train wreck I have ever seen. According to our neighbors, the previous owners NEVER EVER MOWED THE YARD. Before our house went on the market, our neighbor Jerry helped the house flippers (a very nice husband and wife team), haul about 100 bags of leaves, acorns, sticks and dead grass from the back yard. The previous owners planted all their foliage so shallow that hard rains two years ago washed them into the most random places. In the photo above I transplanted these yuccas from a place in the middle of the yard nearly 15 feet from any noticeable flower bed. 

Liriopes are in random spots all over the yard. I pulled them up and placed them in the front beds. I also planted garlic, fertilized my Brussel sprouts, cabbages and broccoli and dug a trench for my red potatoes. I also have tons of St. Augustine grass runners from my neighbor's yard to plant in the bare dirt mounds dotted all over the yard. Currently we have more weeds than grass, but we are slowly moving along.

Pictures are coming soon of all our progress. Until now, I give you the most gorgeous seven-year-old on the planet:

Face Melting Cuteness (and FB Pissin' and Moanin')

Check out my valentines. They are so flippin' cute! 

Ramona yelled, "Val-bines! Val-bines!" all morning long. Kids love mushy mush holidays. They are softening my cynical heart in so many ways. 

Oh haaaaaaiiiiii! How you been? Remember, this blog will never be the pristine output of someone with oodles of ideas or time on her hands. I always forget to document the living. I promise to be better. For you, me loveys. 

Great things are underway at our house. I plan to document more as I slowly step away from Facebook as an active means of communication. It always felt something of a fad to me, and now it is simply boring. Unless it is cute beh behs or my friends celebrating the great things happening in their lives, or my family keeping in touch, it is all a hum to me. There are only so many feckless "political" rants and somecards a girl can read. I would rather you come over and we eat a lot of cheese and we dance to the Scissor Sisters. Think about it. 

I am waffling about throwing the absolute Facebook kill switch. I will probably keep it around for the family, but not treating the "like" button as actually reaching out to someone. And if friends fall to the wayside, well so it goes. It would have happened anyway if Facebook didn't exist in the first place. Truthiness tastes like burning, and not the campfire marshmallow kind. 

Happy "Val-bines," folks! Hugs to you all. Hope to see you face-to-face soon!

Hair Inspiration

This weekend I got into a major collision. Again. I swear on a stack of Bibles I drive an invisible car. I am always being hit by fucking meth heads/dumb ass college students/yummy mummies. I am a cipher for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or I have magnets in my bumpers.

I don't want to talk about it anymore.

It is time to grow my hair out. I have less problems when my mane is a lightening rod for goodness. It will also provide good cushioning should another rear-ending occur.

Hair Inspiration

1) Growing Out

Jasika Nicole from Fringe. Courtesy of Fringe Bloggers

Songwriter LP, courtesy of American Songwriters

St. Vincent, courtesy of Beggars Banquet Records

May the Odds Be Ever In Your Favor

Remember the summer I had Ramona thought it would be awesome to read some Thomas Pynchon? Me either. I made it as far as the epic EPIC description of the desk, had a baby and all brain power ceased from thereafter.

I am still recovering.

I finally decided if I am to read during times of incredible busyness, then why not delve into some popular culture?

I started reading it on Monday and will probably finish it tonight. It is an amusing read, despite its incredible deficiencies. I completely understand its popularity among teenagers and young adults. I would have eaten this shit up at their age. Rough leading ladies keenly aware of the artifices of contemporary society, peppered with undefined romances and dystopian survival skills. Delicious. I would have probably pretended to be Katniss in the woods around our home. This coming from a girl who learned dance steps to Swing Kids in her free time......

I can't tell if it is so drab because the first-person narrator is sixteen, or it is just flat out horrible prose. It also feels like a smattering of Deliverance, Battle Royale, The Hunter, shall I keep going? Not the greatest, but amusing read before I nod off. I actually like it for what it is. I will give credit to the author's themes of gender as performance and furthering Shakespeare's idea of "All the world's a stage." 

I folded folks. I am reading teen literature to settle my brain after a hard week teaching Aristotle's Poetics to non-majors and production research for my upcoming play. Sometimes you just want an easy read.

Iris-Ramona Penny

Let's have a tangent, shall we? It may come back around. To celebrate ten years of meeting each other, Nathan and I had a gay ole time in San Antonio. Two years ago. I get around to writing about stuff eventually.

We stayed at the supposedly haunted Crockett Hotel, strolled about the River Walk and got a bit hammered at the Menger Bar. That bar is the shizz. Teddy Roosevelt recruited Rough Riders there during the Spanish-American War. I want to live in this bar forever.

Photo courtesy of Readcoco Blog.

As we sorta stumbled about downtown San Antonio, Nathan stopped at Ripley's Believe it or Not and exclaimed, "Let's do it!" I stared at a replica of the Eiffel Tower made out of toothpicks for 30 minutes. Good times.

Oh, and we made asses of ourselves in the Madame Tussaud's wax museum.

Lucky for you, they are on my husband's phone.

Remember that comparison chart of presidents Lincoln and Kennedy and all the eerie/interesting comparisons to their lives? They had a huge replica at Ripley's. It is one finger on the creepy, one finger on the fascinating, a middle finger on WHO HAS TIME TO NOTICE THIS!?!

Apparently I do with my daughters.

Ramona is in that fun, goober baby phase. She can interact, play games and be an overall joy and annoyance to her big sister. Iris is in first grade going on 50. She is testing our boundaries daily in the most joyful and annoying ways. I love noticing the intriguing differences between the two.The comparisons are amusing, mostly trivial, but are fun to notice. All in all, it shows us that each child is a new beginning. One different than the one before. Never expect one child to be like the other--it simply will not happen. 

Oh Hey There

Oh HAAAAIIIII, ya'll! Thought I shucked this two-bit blog, did you? Well I didn't. I took a significant break as I focused on my family, my health and living life full tilt. This blog, its purpose, and regular contribution will always be an uphill battle for me. I live rather than document the living. So if it is ten months since my last post, roll with it. I am.

So, yeah what have I done in the last ten months? A great deal, all in very positive directions.

1) Raising some truly sweetheart kids,

2) Moving into our first house (!).

3) Celebrating Nathan's badassedness with not one, TWO fellowships, allowing him to rock out the dissertation,

4) Identifying and fixing some health issues that have improved EVERYTHING,

5) Doing things that scare me/take me out of my comfort zone.

RELATED TO #1: The kids are doing great! Iris is a snaggle-toothed 1st grader. Ramona is a curly-headed rabble rouser. I spent all summer as a stay-at-home mom so Nathan could focus on his dissertation. I learned two things about myself: a) I am not hard-wired for being a stay-at-home mom, and b) the less employed I am, the more I drink.

I think it was harder being summer, but it felt we needed some activity/outing/project going on a few times a week or we devolved into eating Cheerios off the floor and watching Dr. Oz. And Iris was SOOOOOO BOOOOOORRRRREEEDDDD if we didn't have something to do every waking second of the day. I would notice my house was messy and would clean and (shudder shudder) do laundry more consistently. I IRONED clothes. There is a lot maintaining a house with sparkling floors and no one has to wear their undies inside out if none are washed. Mad props to you all who do this as your full-time vocation. I don't mind the work, but I will definitely do it with a bit of grousing. I would much rather have dust bunnies hopping along the laundry pile trail while I figure out how to build an awesome blanket fort and listen to sketch comedy podcasts.

When you have small children, the cleaning feels so futile. Like Samuel Beckett's Endgame, but Nagg and Nell learned how to get out of their trash bins. One can crawl and will eat coffee grounds out of the trash. I am Clov in this metaphor. Hamm is your inner voice with the incessant desire to gripe gripe gripe. Nagg and Nell will eff it up in 30 minutes anyway. It is all gray. Everything will have to be redone. You never sit down. I am such a effing theater nerd, I even use Beckett to describe how I feel about cleaning.

If she had a drink instead of a cloth in her hand, it would be easier.

RELATED TO #2: The great thing about being at home was all the cooking experiments. I nailed how to make my favorite Southern dish, smothered pork chops. Tyler Florence, you are a golden god.

I also did some canning and freezing and learned how to cook on my super high-tech Stove of the Future. This contraption looks like something Captain Pickard cooks his grits on inside Star Command. It came with the new house. I learned how to cook on a gas stove. Electric ones, especially ones from the future, have a steep learning curve. My poor family ate some sorta burnt chicken a time or two.

UPDATE: I was informed by my husband that "Star Command" is a separate show. The Enterprise has a food replicator that makes food at will for anyone. To which I replied, "As a maker of content on the Internet, it is my job to be inaccurate."

And I enjoyed some delicious libations. It was like a Prohibition speakeasy at least four days a week this summer. It didn't help our new house has a built-in bar and my husband makes one mean homemade margarita. The insight I gained into the summer was that doing nothing is great, doing TOO much nothing leads to alcoholism. And summer is for futility. And of great inward understanding. And smothered pork chops.

I will elaborate on on the change and settling in later posts. I am back, me loves. I will share as much as I can and as much as I want. This private girl will be more public. Promise.

Secret Santa

The names are on a sheet of paper.

The Mistress of Ceremonies is dressed for the draw.

She had big shoes to fill in the style department from last year's Master of Ceremonies.

2010 Master of Ceremonies

And the Gale family annual Secret Santa draw has begun!

Meanwhile, the locals observe the tradition with absolute befuddlement....

...and decide to engage in more amusing activities.

My husband's side of the family is scattered all over the U.S., so each year the grown-ups draw a Secret Santa. We load our Amazon wish lists, set a limit and let the giving begin! This tradition helps us save our money for spoiling the kiddos...

Iris & Ramona

Leo & Elena

Family is the elixir to all life's troubles. May the upcoming holidays bring you abundant joy that lasts all next year!

Finding the Through Line

On the tracks, not off the rails.

Warning: The structure of this post is silly but the ideas are honest. Roll with it.

Exposition

Yesterday afternoon I had drinks with a friend in town for business. We always have a nice time chatting about everything under the sun. During our visit, he brought up a question I also had on my mind. Don't you just love it when you are on the same wavelength of thought with someone? It happens every once and awhile, and when it does I like to run with it.

My friend, whom I've known since grad school in Iowa, felt he's changed so much over the years he was curious if he had an overall through line. What were the core foundations of his personality? What has remained constant through time? Meaty existence questions. 

Inciting Incident Where No Basement Rambles on Contemplation of Self

Giving birth to Ramona forced me to go inward and contemplate the self more than I've ever done in recent years. To borrow my friend's metaphor, I too have felt a quieting of the cages rattling within. And perhaps that is what the through line of any personality truly is: the presentation of your best qualities to others while you have an inward drama unfold, fraught with tumult, comedy, tragedy and sometimes melodrama. 

Rising Action of Understanding the Self

I know the little girl I was is different from the young woman I was, and the young woman I was is different from the older woman I am today. I celebrate the fact I have identified and overcome some ridiculous behavior patterns and kept the ones I think are the basis of who I am. Much like a play, if there is no change, nothing happens. And atrophy is the enemy in the action of a play and life.

We are constantly editing and adding to the script that is our lives. I believe the hardest part understanding ourselves is we hold within us all the drafts of our personality. We have to carry the past, present and future of who we are. If you know someone long enough, you carry many drafts of that person, too. This can be why we get frustrated with people--they might be referencing an earlier draft of yourself and not seeing who you are in the present. You want to say, I've grown, thank you! I am not that person anymore! Can't you see I am an ever-evolving into who I am?!?

Further Rising Action

During drinks with my friend, we were both able to say the things we are not anymore. But the lingering question was well then, what am I after all the things I know I am not?

I know I am not a person who runs away from what is true anymore. I used to feel so unworthy of honest, calm and rational love that I found any and every way to reject it. It was as if I was a moth to the flame and I latched on to anything that would be hot and colorful and scorching to the senses. I would form irrational attachments to people, places and events. I would do anything but actually accept that I was very much worthy of abundant joy and happiness. Don't ask me why, but the idea of a cool, relaxed and mature love was something I simply felt I hadn't earned. 

Climax

But damn it, I have earned every bit of it. My children remind me of it daily. Their love is so overwhelmingly wonderful I have to stop myself from tearing up at least once every day. Ramona tries to say "Ma Ma" or Iris and I cuddle on the couch and everything is right in the world.

Also, I am the luckiest girl on the planet simply because I get to be in the presence of my husband every day. I have tried so many times in my life to not accept the fact he loves the heck out of me. He has seen every part of my personality, all my goodness and bullshit and still says, "yes" to it all. That is exactly what I've always needed.

Denouement

As the drinks ended and I drove my pal to the airport, I thought more about his questions (even though I was singing The Cure and being ridiculous, I was multitasking in the mind). My answer to my friend's questions is he has always been a good person, has always been awkwardly charming and has always been a good friend to me. He's seen some ugly UGLY stuff from me and so far is fine with it. Thanks, friend. That is incredibly important to me.

As a grad student in a playwriting and dramaturgy program, we were always taught to make strong choices with characters in our plays. They must undergo some dynamic element of change or the play's action with suffer. Throughout our lives we will either grab at an earlier draft of our behavior patterns or we rewrite it and move forward. It is that simple.  

I raise my glass to the current draft of my life. Cheers to the draft you are working on or living in, dear readers.

Space Cadet

Have I ever mentioned how lucky I am to have two amazing sisters-in-law? Quite simply, they are fabulous. They both are brilliant, loving, funny, amazing cooks and the best girlie-girl posse you could imagine.

Jeanette & Jeremiah. This photo is from 2007. Jeanette likes to hide from the camera, even though she is incredibly photogenic. ;)

Lisa & Jason, 2007 BC (Before Children)

Lisa is expecting their third child. As they have a son and a daughter, they are having a surprise delivery. I secretly hope it is a girl so it can be Gale Boys=5, Gale Girls=7. For Granny Carla's sake! She needs her turn at some little girls. But, with Nathan and my track record, we might keep the girls kicking in this family.

If you are not reading my sister-in-law Lisa's blog, All Things Gale, you really should. It is our favorite niece and nephew update site as well as a wonderful testament to parenting young children, experimenting in the kitchen and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. 

Lisa recently blogged about her very early morning with the kids, and I immediately thought, Oh what a kindred spirit I have in Lisa today! Last night was a rough one for the other Gale household as well.

It all started when Nate and I had a date night. For couples with children, "date night" is when you promise to take a shower, cuddle on the couch and watch back episodes of your favorite TV shows. Canoodling if you don't fall asleep. Oh yeah, we are talking ONE HOT DATE!

After turning in around 11:00pm (late late late these days), the next conscious memory I had was Iris tapping the top of my head sometime around 1 am. She had a shin splint and was in a lot of pain. I had excruciating shin splints during my growth spurts at her age, too so I could commiserate. I don't believe I truly woke up until Nate handed me Tylenol and a glass of water in Iris's room. When she finally calmed down, she exclaimed, "Mommy, you and Daddy are the best. You never get mad when I wake up in the middle of the night and need you."

Then 2:45am rolled around and Ramona decided to get up and have a little squealing party. It felt as if I slept five minutes between 1:30am to 2:45am. Ramona started sleeping through the night a month ago (I know, right!?! I pleased the universe to deserve such a gift), but occasionally gets up to eat. Of course she wakes when big sister woke us. After a feeding and a cuddle, I hit the pillow around 3:20 am-ish. 

Then the 6:00am alarm. I turned it off and passed out. Nate get up around 5:00am every weekday. He let me sleep in until 6:40am. Screw roses, whispering sweet nothings and buying me crap--letting me sleep is one big wordless "I love you." I really lucked out with this guy.

As Lisa mentioned in her post, "What makes motherhood so remarkable is the almost automatic and willing self-sacrifice. It's involuntary and instinctual!" 

I couldn't agree more. Even a few short years ago I would waste my mental and emotional well-being on people, events and perceived missed opportunities. The person I am today is well past all that racket. I am truly proud of myself--I went from completely self-centered to selfless without a sense of self. The only challenge is I come off as a complete nutter from sleep deprivation, but the people who know and love me roll with it. 

At this moment my brain hurts, I wish I could take a nap and I want a coffee. So long as I don't believe a lobster is chasing me from lack of sleep, I think I will survive. Tired but incredibly happy.

Mixtape Monday (On a Tuesday): Battle of the Supergroups

The last Rolling Stone issue featured two reviews of new Supergroup albums--Mick Jagger's SuperHeavy  and Sleeter-Kinney/Helium/The Minders' Wild Flag. I am very MEH about SuperHeavy, but Wild Flag has some sweet guitar licks and dreamy girl vocals.

I am a fan of Supergroups as they are the emblem of the greatness of collaboration. It is a collision of musical styles and influences: the ultimate postmodern stew. Sometimes it can sound like a hot, messsy tug-of-war for aural supremacy, and yet it often can forge new, undiscovered landscapes of sound.

Below is a little playlist of some of my favorite Supergroups. If you see an obvious omission of a Supergroup, I have a) yet to discover them or b) do not like their mega mush of music. Stop, Collaborate and Listen. (You're damn right...I just quoted Vanilla Ice).

Little Bird Style Files #4: School Supply Shopping

My little lady starts Kindergarten next week, and I am so verklempt! My little baby, my sweet girl who once looked like this,

now looks like this, and is starting elementary school.

Lately, Iris added eye wear to her fashion repertoire. I like to call the fake glasses "practice." My husband and I both started wearing glasses in third grade. Little lady, your days of being two eyes are numbered.

In other news, we are moving right along as a family of four. Ramona brings so much peace in our lives. Since I was pulled away from Iris by grad school and crippling baby blues, I always felt I did a crap job of mothering a little infant. Ramona completely restored confidence in my ability.

Iris loves the fact she now has a dress up partner. Look at the ballerina dress on Ramona. It is so ridiculous, but in the good way. Grandma gifts are so much fun and silly!

Last week I did a serious deep cleaning of my closets and gave Iris all my old formal/prom dresses to wear. She is sporting my freshman winter formal dress from somewhere in the 1990s/Friends/grunge-on-the-horizon era. I am rather certain it is not going to be in style ever again. *Fingers crossed*

Mixtape Monday (on Saturday): The Labor & Delivery Playlist

Of course I made a playlist for Ramona's labor and delivery. Music is what I need to survive, focus, calm down and swoon from love of life. Naturally, all this is necessary to bring a child into the world.

I wasn't sure how much music to put on the playlist. With Iris, I pushed for 2.5 hours before she arrived. With Ramona, I pushed for about 30 minutes before she arrived. I started listening once the labor and delivery nurse said, "Okay, you are ready to deliver this baby."

Once the nurse says "go," the delivery room moves like a pit crew at the Indy 500. Tables, equipment and people bustle in, getting ready for the smack down of life entering the room. It is not a time for the mother to lose her cool. I threw on my headphones and focused. Below is how far I got through the music I created for the playlist.

It should be noted that Ramona came into the world at 6:01am CST on June 22nd. At the very moment she arrived, Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" was playing. Right at the 6:10 mark on the song when Buckley sustains the "hallelujah" for over a minute. Oh yes, I totally cried tears of joy.

They put her in my arms as I listened to Plants and Animals's "New Kind of Love." At the 5:36 mark when the whimsical flutes emerge and the band quietly whispers "new kind of love."

Talk about making an entrance, my dear Ramona.

There is no need for words. No need to describe every detail. The soul of my experience is in the music.

Resemblance

Of all the many comments newborn parents receive, the question of "Who does he/she look like?" tends to dominate the conversation. It is a difficult question to answer as they change so much day to day and week to week.

Ramona is definitely her father's daughter with her ears, her chubby cheeks and her adorably knobby-kneed chicken legs. Her face reminds me a lot of her sister when she was a newborn. And the hair.......well let's just say it is the most surprising thing about her. Our firstborn, Iris, was completely bald until she was two years old. When Ramona's head first emerged during birth, my husband and I said, in unison, "Woah! Look at all that hair!" According to my mom, I had brown hair upon birth as did my brothers. But not his much! Maybe there is some credence to the old wives' tale "If you have bad indigestion during pregnancy, your baby will have a lot of hair."

Have fun trying to figure out where Ramona gets her smashingly good looks.

Iris, 1 month old. 2006

Ramona, four days old. 2011

Eight Days Early

Today is supposed to be my due date with Baby #2. We are so glad she decided to come eight days early.

 

Meet little Miss Ramona Yvonne. She is already busy with baby activities such as hanging out with big sister,

 

Meeting her family,

watching sister dance while breastfeeding,

sucking her thumb,

and doing some light, restorative yoga.

I did not pose her. She is a natural yogini.

She is growing chubbier and more alert each day. We are to the point of bursting with love for her. Having a newborn in the house is the greatest gift--you are reminded of the innocence we all have entering this world.