This Post Makes No Sense.... You Are Welcome.

What is it that makes me want to blog?  I think that all the time.  Why do I have to write something and put it out there?  Why can't I just think a thought and idea and that be enough?
Because I'd go crazy that's why.
I have this insane....or inane....desire to put what I think and feel out into the universe.  I wonder if that is how you define an artist.  Anyone can paint a picture, an artist puts it out there.  Anyone can write a song and play it, and artist makes it heard.  Anyone could write a story, an artist lets his/her thoughts be known to the masses.
Now I feel kind of vain calling myself an artist.
Whenever I hear the song "You're So Vain" I always think what if they are not vain, what if they are just paranoid?? What if you sing that song they think anxiously 'What if this song is about me?  What did I do wrong??'  And that kind of makes Carly Simon a non-understanding bitch.  It's called paranoia and it can be debilitating and just because you were married to James Taylor and were really cool in the 70's you think you can judge people, well fuck you Carly...FUCK YOU!!!
That is all....

This song is so old but when I have a rift with my hubby I sing this song.  I don't know why.

Torn up Piece of Paper.

*I love the movie Stealing Beauty.  It is one of those movies that I watched over and over and still watch when it comes on T.V.  When I was younger I wished my mom had died and my father had sent me away to an artist commune in Italy to smoke pot with Jeremy Irons and swim topless with Rachel Weisz and lose my virginity to an adorable pubic-haired Italian boy.  These were my selfish years.
Now I watch the movie and I just want to run away to an artist commune in Italy and lose my virginity to an adorable pubic-haired Italian boy.  A girl can still be a little selfish no matter what age.
In the movie Liv's character eats her words.  She always writes on small scraps of paper, tears the paper and sticks it in her mouth.  Or sometimes she burns the paper.  I love this part of the movie because I know I am not that girl who runs away to an artist commune in Italy but I am that girl that hides her words.
Half the stuff I write does not  get posted.  The words sit as drafts burnt and torn and swallowed never to see the light of day.

*“I love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else.”
― Jonathan Safran Foer

This is a quote I have on my fridge, the quote is printed on a torn up piece of paper framed on a piece of scrapbook paper.  I love this quote about love.  I put the scrap of paper at eye level so I can always see it.  It's so much better than a picture of a pig telling me 'oink'.
Actually the quote isn't for losing weight, when I read it I think of my kids.
I don't have a favorite kid, as some people say.  I don't love my kids in the same way but I  do love them both just like the quote says- which I guess is loving them in the same way.
I think people get the 'favorite' and the  love mixed up.  Our kids need our love in different forms.  My girl needs cuddling and affection.  My boy needs tons of high-fives and an affectionate headlock.
One is more willing to help me on a daily basis, the other works to surprise me in amazing ways on a less frequent measure.  One curses and swears like a sailor when they are mad, the other is prone to fits of crying.
One is not my favorite.  I never mix-up these feelings up.  The torn up piece of paper on my fridge is a reminder of those feelings.

*When you  are working with your fancy scrap-booking paper it is important to remember to tear the piece of paper towards you.

Random Thoughts on Verbage Filters and Opposites Attracting

*I promised my sister my verbage filter this weekend.  Not that it's a very good verbage filter, word that are better left unsaid are always slipping through.  My mom has issues with my sister and I be out alone together.  Something always seems to go awry.  Like the time my sister called one of her teachers a Nazi at her boss' daughter's Bat Mitzvah.  Or me making obscene comments about people and those people being right behind me.  And we go home and laugh about our social defectiveness and my mom shakes her head and says "I can't let you two out of the house together."  And then we laugh some more. 
Sisters.
Hopefully her verbage filter and my verbage filter will equal a somewhat workable, functioning filter.

*I am having a hard time being a mother to an 8 year-old boy.  You know the direct and total opposite of a 34 year-old woman is an 8 year-old boy.  Sometimes I'll turn on his favorite T.V. show and watch it with him and laugh at all the part he laughs at, even though I don't really find it funny.  And I will purposefully say poop or pee or farts just to make him laugh, even though I hate the words poop and pee and fart.  Those words are tops to an eight year old.  And I make his favorite meals and snacks all the time and tell him I made them just for him.  Because you have to always find a way to connect.

*Being a mom to a 5 year old girl is easy, clear sailing, although I imagine the complete and total opposite of a 15 year-old girl will be a 44 year-old woman.  I have no idea what I will do to connect.  I have 10 years to figure it out.

*My husband is working out.  With weights.  And while he works out I mix his protein shake.  As I am making his shake I always wonder if making a protein shake for a 'weight-lifter' ruins my street cred.  It can't be helping it. 

Random.

*I have mad love for Elmo.  It wasn't always that way.  I catered to the masses and spread Elmo hate all over this great nation.  Then I saw this....

Any red furry monster who can hold their own against Mr. Gervais is alright in my book.  Elmo has humor.  Elmo can ad-lib.  How can a hater hate?
If that wasn't enough to convince me, I saw this is clip about the man behind the muppet...

Is your mind blown?  Mine was.
Then I read more about Kevin Clash, the man and voice behind the red furry cutie.... 

"(Kevin) Clash began building puppets at the age of ten. Clash's parents were supportive of his interest in puppetry, driving him to puppet shows, allowing for his love of television and craft...."(source)

Kevin was teased because of his passion, bullied you may say, but he persevered.
You still hating?
This fall, for their season premiere episode, Independent Lens will be featuring 'Being Elmo'.  If you watch this and still hate on Elmo, well you are just a heartless person.

*My husband and I are very different creatures.  This debate on Sammy Hagar vs. David Lee Roth points out our differences perfectly...
Husband: "Sammy can't touch David."
Me: "Everyone knows the Van Halen brothers are major douche bags (old news). Sammy is like the ugly step-child of rock-n-roll, always looking for approval. Plus Sammy's hair looks like the pubic hair on an old french whore's vagina."
We say the exact same thing.  Him simple and to the point.  Me in a total round-about, totally inappropriate way.
Well like the great Paula Abdul once said: "It ain't fiction , just a natural fact we come together it's opposites attract."


*We had our yearly birthday bash, and not to break from tradition, I forgot to take pictures.  This is why the rich hire photographers.  Between rolling forty wraps and making sure everyone had a drink in one hand and a plate in the other, no pictures were taken.  Maybe next year.


*Due to birthday party prep I read no books, so I am still working on last weeks to be read pile.  
Do you have any good book suggestions?

Random

~In an animated discussion, when is a discussion with me not animated?  Anyhoo I was going into a verbal diarrhea fit about neighbors and my keen observation of the burbs when my mom stated, "You know who you are?  You're Gladys Kravitiz!"   Don't know who that is?  Look it up.
And so what if  I am?  I am outside wrangling my kids everyday, it isn't hard for me to notice you in your bathrobe, getting the mail, at 2:30 P.M.  I'd be blind not to notice. 
Really Gladys was misunderstood.   Much like myself.
Cue the violins.

~I am getting pretty perturbed over the music choices lately.  Top 40 is a cesspool of sex and stupid choices.  Case in point:  I couldn't help but notice the lyrics in a song called "Take it Off" by Ke$ha...
"And now we lookin^, like pimps  In my gold Trans-Am. Got a water bottle full of whiskey. In my handbag."
Okay I don't know if you have open container laws in your state, but we do.  And a water bottle filled with whiskey would be an open container.
What is this teaching our kids??
Whiskey is a brown liquor, easily noticed in a water bottle.  Now vodka or a certain translucent type of tequila would be a wiser choice to store in a clear container.
If you are going to influence my children to break the law, I rather you not be stupid about it.  Thank you very much Ke$ha.
Okay serious now.  Drinking and driving is as about as dumb as they come.  And although I get that the bottle is in her handbag, not in her mouth, it still is a horrid thing to sing about.  Especially since people still don't get that driving drunk KILLS PEOPLE EVERYDAY!!!

~Of course I realize the obvious here, that I am complaining about my kids music.   Nothing says "old" like complaining about your kids choice in music.
And gray hair.  I has one.  Right up front.  It's short.  And it sticks up.  I pluck it.  But it is a magic gray hair.  It comes back.  With a vengeance.  So I gave up the battle.
Gray hair is now my friend.
I call her Gladys.

~Talking about old, after complaining about certain womanly issues I was told I was peri-menopausal.   Excuse me while I go cry now.  Not because I am sad, I am just so god-damn hormonal.  I just don't know why I am crying, I just am.  What's it to you anyway?
How long will it take my husband to figure out that the best cure for a peri-menopausal woman is chocolate?  I think a pool is in order.  Any takers?

~I have a sick kid today.  I sense puke-detail.  Say a prayer for me.