The last few days, I have found my lack of income distressing me. I have been checking the web for job-listings which might grab me, knowing full when that I will be grabbing one within the next few months (I'm giving my freelance a few more months - see if I can get any birth photography clients, more teaching and lesson gigs, portrait work, etc, then I'm off to the 9-5s.)
I regret nothing, but I can't say I enjoy using my savings. I don't dig that much.
I just put in my Facebook status, "C. has no income. None at all, poeple. None. At. All."
And my dear friend Amanda responded, "But you have lots of love. L.o.v.e."
Insert grateful sigh here.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Introducing Jeremiah
This morning I came home at 3:30 from attending an at-home birth! Linda and her husband allowed me in their home to photograph the arrival of their son, Jeremiah, in return for copies of the pictures.
I am hoping to start photographing at-home births (I will stay with at-home births because most hospitals won't allow photographers in). It's a great way to document an important event for a client, and for me it's more of what I love to do - be a fly on the wall and document life. In this case, the arrival of one.
I received a call from the midwife's student at 5:20 on Christmas Eve morning and headed to Linda's home. About twenty long hours later, after many stops and starts, Jeremiah arrived after just fifteen minutes of pushing. Linda was incredible! Despite there being at least six people in her home at any given time throughout her labor, and despite the slow progression of her labor, she was impressively patient. I never heard her complain once. She never gave-up, either.
Here are a few pictures from the event. I intend to post more once I edit the shoot and clear them with Linda and her husband.
Breathing through the surges (contractions).
Meeting big brother.
The little man of the hour. Born on Christmas!
I am hoping to start photographing at-home births (I will stay with at-home births because most hospitals won't allow photographers in). It's a great way to document an important event for a client, and for me it's more of what I love to do - be a fly on the wall and document life. In this case, the arrival of one.
I received a call from the midwife's student at 5:20 on Christmas Eve morning and headed to Linda's home. About twenty long hours later, after many stops and starts, Jeremiah arrived after just fifteen minutes of pushing. Linda was incredible! Despite there being at least six people in her home at any given time throughout her labor, and despite the slow progression of her labor, she was impressively patient. I never heard her complain once. She never gave-up, either.
Here are a few pictures from the event. I intend to post more once I edit the shoot and clear them with Linda and her husband.
Breathing through the surges (contractions).
Meeting big brother.
The little man of the hour. Born on Christmas!Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Hanging Billy 'Til He's Silly
What Mom overheard today in the restaurant...
Kid - "Deck the Halls with Joy and Billy!
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Hang them high 'til they are silly!
Fa la la la la la la la la!..."
Mom (not mine) - "You have got to stop singing that!"
Kid - "Why?"
Mom - "Because when your cousins show-up they are not going to like it!"
Kid - "Deck the Halls with Joy and Billy!
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Hang them high 'til they are silly!
Fa la la la la la la la la!..."
Mom (not mine) - "You have got to stop singing that!"
Kid - "Why?"
Mom - "Because when your cousins show-up they are not going to like it!"
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Christmas Tale #2
As a kid, I believed in Santa like many. I was between five and eight when one year on Christmas eve, I was woken up by the sound of sleigh bells. I climbed out of bed and looked through a small window at the back of my bedroom. It was a high window near the ceiling and it gave a view of the sky above our backyard.
The moon was full and huge and sure enough, there flew Santa with his eight reindeer in a silhouette across the bright moon. I remember so clearly the profile of his hat, the sleigh, and the way his arms held the reins.
It was years before I realized I'd dreamt it, but I still love the memory of it and am so grateful I had that dream!
The moon was full and huge and sure enough, there flew Santa with his eight reindeer in a silhouette across the bright moon. I remember so clearly the profile of his hat, the sleigh, and the way his arms held the reins.
It was years before I realized I'd dreamt it, but I still love the memory of it and am so grateful I had that dream!
Cards
My friend Christina sent me this via email. I think it's funny, even if, like me, you don't have a boss anymore.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Christmas Tale #1
When I was a kid, my grandmother used to come and visit for an extended period of time during the holidays. Every year, my brother and I would place bets on which flying outfit she would arrive in at the airport coming from Michigan. It was always either the pale blue polyester jobbie, or the festive green suit with the fur collar and cuffs. We would giggle in anticipation while peeping out the window as the car puled up with her inside.
When I was eight, we had a Norwegian exchange student living with us for a year. He shared with my mom the ingredients to a drink called Glogg (pronounced "glooooog"). It's one of those everything but the kitchen sink kind of drinks; a whole orange with cloves, prunes, nuts, spices, vodka, red wine, a spatula and the tail of a newt.
We serve this drink, much to every one's pleasure, during our annual holiday parties. Well, one year when grandmommy was still visiting and Christopher and I were small enough to not even remember this incident, she scooped out the prunes from the bottom of the finished-off glogg after a party one night. She placed them in the fridge.
To have for breakfast.
To have the alcohol-soaked prunes for breakfast.
You see where I'm going I'm sure.
The next morning my mom came downstairs to find her mother sitting at the dining table flanked by her two grandchildren. Christopher and I were laughing and laughing, and because Grandmommy's back was to us, mom just thought how nice it was that we were enjoying some time with our grandmother. After a little while of hearing us giggle on and on from the next room, she came into join us and that's when she realized, we were actually being entertained by our hammered granny.
Christopher would lean in and say, "Hey Grandmommy, say 'rutabaga'!" and Christopher and I would laugh ourselves into a tinkling frenzy watching grandmommy attempt to form the word and come no where near close in her blathering.
Mom says she just had to jam pillows around grandmommy in the chair so she wouldn't fall over. Then later, Dad helped move her upstairs where she slept off her crazy morning partying over prunes.
When I was eight, we had a Norwegian exchange student living with us for a year. He shared with my mom the ingredients to a drink called Glogg (pronounced "glooooog"). It's one of those everything but the kitchen sink kind of drinks; a whole orange with cloves, prunes, nuts, spices, vodka, red wine, a spatula and the tail of a newt.
We serve this drink, much to every one's pleasure, during our annual holiday parties. Well, one year when grandmommy was still visiting and Christopher and I were small enough to not even remember this incident, she scooped out the prunes from the bottom of the finished-off glogg after a party one night. She placed them in the fridge.
To have for breakfast.
To have the alcohol-soaked prunes for breakfast.
You see where I'm going I'm sure.
The next morning my mom came downstairs to find her mother sitting at the dining table flanked by her two grandchildren. Christopher and I were laughing and laughing, and because Grandmommy's back was to us, mom just thought how nice it was that we were enjoying some time with our grandmother. After a little while of hearing us giggle on and on from the next room, she came into join us and that's when she realized, we were actually being entertained by our hammered granny.
Christopher would lean in and say, "Hey Grandmommy, say 'rutabaga'!" and Christopher and I would laugh ourselves into a tinkling frenzy watching grandmommy attempt to form the word and come no where near close in her blathering.
Mom says she just had to jam pillows around grandmommy in the chair so she wouldn't fall over. Then later, Dad helped move her upstairs where she slept off her crazy morning partying over prunes.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Must See
If you are looking for a good flick to go see, look no further. My friend Helen and I went to see Slumdog Millionaire last night and it was fantastic! Since I'm not a movie reviewer, I won't go on with my "It was really cool and romantic and stuff". I'll just show you the preview and tell you that when my parents go to see it, I'll be going with them to see it a second time. That's saying something considering the prices of movies these days and the fact that I have a limited cash flow right now!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Snuggling
I over-slept this morning. Then, I was very busy and important for a few hours until Mom and I left to see Handel's Messiah at the Boston Symphony Hall with a family friend. By the time I was back from dinner, Oliver was feeling very snubbed. This called for extra snuggles in the evening.
This is something that started about a month after I moved back to MA. I think it's because he's used to having a couch to lounge on while I'm watching TV. The set-up is different here, and there's no couch in front of the TV. So now he's all about my lap. Tonight, Mom took a picture of him in all his drowsy glory...
This is something that started about a month after I moved back to MA. I think it's because he's used to having a couch to lounge on while I'm watching TV. The set-up is different here, and there's no couch in front of the TV. So now he's all about my lap. Tonight, Mom took a picture of him in all his drowsy glory...
Friday, December 5, 2008
Light the Lights and Terrify the Children
Tonight was the Wakefield Center Neighborhood Association's annual Light the Lights event. On the downtown common in Wakefield, the group strings white lights in the trees every year when winter comes. Frosty comes to greet the kids and there are carollers, hot cocoa, munchkins for the munchkins (kids, not little people visiting from the Land of Oz) and a count down to turn on the lights.
This is an event I have always enjoyed since I was a child myself. The organization has been doing this for over twenty years and I have fond memories of it. I remember my boyfriend from high school dressing as Frosty one year. I remember the year when it snowed a lot and when the lights came on it was like something in a movie.
Tonight was different. It seems that in the ten years I have been a way and missing this event, vendors have made there way to the perimeter of the common selling glowing crap to any child drawn in by anything shiny. Which really is every kid. This year, in an intelligent effort to be more economical the WCNA used it's hard-earned funds to purchase new LED lights for the common. Normally when I shoot holiday lights, I have all the light I need once the lights come on, because really those old badboys are bright enough to land a plane (I also normally have feeling in my fingers because I'm shooting them in the tropics. Not so this year!). This time, the lights were very nice but not so bright. As such, taking pictures was a real challenge.
Still, I have attached some of my favorites. Make that, the ones that amused me.
This is just a decent shot which gives you a bit of an idea of the event. Lights, kids, and Frosty.
This is my favorite of the bunch. It would have been better if there were more lights behind these two, of course, but what makes the pic is the kid freaking out at left.
These two are friends of mine, Owen and Pat. What I wonder about is what the woman is saying the child at left, "You will go visit Frosty and you will like it!"
This is an event I have always enjoyed since I was a child myself. The organization has been doing this for over twenty years and I have fond memories of it. I remember my boyfriend from high school dressing as Frosty one year. I remember the year when it snowed a lot and when the lights came on it was like something in a movie.
Tonight was different. It seems that in the ten years I have been a way and missing this event, vendors have made there way to the perimeter of the common selling glowing crap to any child drawn in by anything shiny. Which really is every kid. This year, in an intelligent effort to be more economical the WCNA used it's hard-earned funds to purchase new LED lights for the common. Normally when I shoot holiday lights, I have all the light I need once the lights come on, because really those old badboys are bright enough to land a plane (I also normally have feeling in my fingers because I'm shooting them in the tropics. Not so this year!). This time, the lights were very nice but not so bright. As such, taking pictures was a real challenge.
Still, I have attached some of my favorites. Make that, the ones that amused me.
This is just a decent shot which gives you a bit of an idea of the event. Lights, kids, and Frosty.
This is my favorite of the bunch. It would have been better if there were more lights behind these two, of course, but what makes the pic is the kid freaking out at left.
These two are friends of mine, Owen and Pat. What I wonder about is what the woman is saying the child at left, "You will go visit Frosty and you will like it!"Oh Danny Boy
Thanks to Maureen for providing me with something cool to share on my blog today. I know, it's been a while. I'll try ot be more entertaining soon. In the meantime, kick it, Beaker!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Gramma Dorothy's Hair
When Dad was in college at U Michigan, he would visit his father and step-mother, Dorothy in New Jersey when he was on breaks from school.
During one visit, Dorothy was home to greet Dad with a new hairdo. She had her hair colored red. She couldn't wait for her husband to come home from work so she could show him her new do.
When granddad arrived home, he came into the kitchen where Dorothy and Dad were standing chatting. He looked around curiously, fuddled with the mail, looked around again with a bit of confusion, and left the room. He then came right back and said, "Hey, what's going on here?"
"How do you like my hair, Bill?" Dorothy clarified by asking.
"Oh my god I hate it!"
During one visit, Dorothy was home to greet Dad with a new hairdo. She had her hair colored red. She couldn't wait for her husband to come home from work so she could show him her new do.
When granddad arrived home, he came into the kitchen where Dorothy and Dad were standing chatting. He looked around curiously, fuddled with the mail, looked around again with a bit of confusion, and left the room. He then came right back and said, "Hey, what's going on here?"
"How do you like my hair, Bill?" Dorothy clarified by asking.
"Oh my god I hate it!"
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The Maul and the Green Scarf
Looking for an H&M store in the local mall the other day, I was taken by the desperateness of the sales clerks. Specifically the ones in the kiosks. One woman asked my if my hair was real and that her product could "fix" it. "Fix" it? I know I just colored my hair red, and perhaps my friends here are too nice to tell me if my hair looks like crap, but as far as I know, it looks fine. It doesn't need fixing.
The kiosk girl tried and tried to get me to come sit down so she could run my hair through her electrified Inspector Gadget hair straightener. When I walked past her a second time sometime later, she said to me again, "Can I ask you a question?"
"You already did before." I said to her int he kindest tone possible as I kept walking.
"I know, but..." she pleaded.
I few days ago I paid two dollars for a nice green GAP scarf at the Salvation Army. I wore it in the mall and twice, there were kiosk people who tried compliments to reel me in, "Hey, that's a nice scarf!" one guy said to me, then another later on, "That scarf looks warm!"
Lame.
The second guy was actually hollering after me well after I had passed by his kiosk.
It was actually very creepy. Annoying too, but creepy. I felt like I was being heckled by construction workers. I felt like a child trying to avoid neighborhood perverts. There was a bit of "Hey little girl, I have a piece of candy for you!" about it all.
I don't want your nail cream and I'm not helping you find your puppy.
The place should really be called The Maul.
The kiosk girl tried and tried to get me to come sit down so she could run my hair through her electrified Inspector Gadget hair straightener. When I walked past her a second time sometime later, she said to me again, "Can I ask you a question?"
"You already did before." I said to her int he kindest tone possible as I kept walking.
"I know, but..." she pleaded.
I few days ago I paid two dollars for a nice green GAP scarf at the Salvation Army. I wore it in the mall and twice, there were kiosk people who tried compliments to reel me in, "Hey, that's a nice scarf!" one guy said to me, then another later on, "That scarf looks warm!"
Lame.
The second guy was actually hollering after me well after I had passed by his kiosk.
It was actually very creepy. Annoying too, but creepy. I felt like I was being heckled by construction workers. I felt like a child trying to avoid neighborhood perverts. There was a bit of "Hey little girl, I have a piece of candy for you!" about it all.
I don't want your nail cream and I'm not helping you find your puppy.
The place should really be called The Maul.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Bored and Blue
Today I am feeling a level of blah. Being diabetic is annoying me. My sugars have been quite high for the past few months and anyone who is diabetic...not many of you...can relate to my feeling of self-loathing. 'Must focus on brushing it off and remembering that tomorrow is a new day.
Today, I raked leaves. A lot of them, as you can see (this is pre-raked). The culprit is our massive double trunked tulip tree. Now I am desperate for them to be removed so I can complete the effort to get a feeling of accomplishment.
I also got my flu shot today thanks to my neighbor, Ada who called to let me know there was a free clinic in town today. By the way, Wakefield is the quintessential busy New England town. There is more going on downtown here in this suburb that there was in the middle of the day in West Palm Beach's downtown area. Granted, the main street in WPB was wall-to-wall clubs and rapidly turning-over restaurants, but still. This past Saturday, when Dad and I passed through on our way somewhere, there was a small pack of high schoolers playing on up-turned buckets to raise money for the WHS music department. Dad of course pulled over to give them some money.
When I was a kid, I had auburn colored hair
which leaned towards red. Now, the auburn hair leans towards brown and I have been missing the red for a long time. So, the other day, I decided to dye my hair (it doesn't really show much in this picture, does it?). It's a bit strange though. When I got compliments on my hair, people always wondered if I dyed it. I never had, and now, I feel like a bit of a poser. As though I should tell everyone I make eye contact with, “I know...it's dyed now. It didn't used to be but, you see, I missed the red and so I put some in. I just don't want you to think I'm one of those people who doesn't want people to know I dye my hair even though it's probably obvious, you know? Like, I'm not trying to come across as a real red head...even though I was one. Once.”
The dye I used wasn't much really, and it came out fine. In fact, I feel like it's even faded a bit since I put it in just the other day.
My roommates, Mom and Dad, are gone right now, and I have been in charge of the doggies. If Bootsie had opposable thumbs, I think she would have burned down the house by now. Really, she's not so bad, she's just so busy and into everything. She's kind of a text book juvenile delinquent. When you're not in the room, she is completely silent. Sitting on the floor or in her crate, she seems perfectly content. But, as soon as there is someone around to impress, she's all over the place! I don't know what got into her last night but she took off from one side of the room, charged around the desk in the middle of the room turned on a dime at the other side of the room and did it again. Turn, run, repeat. Over and over, while grunting.
Meanwhile, Oliver has been quite content with the new tradition of getting up into my lap and falling asleep immediately like one of the two old men in The Muppet Show balcony. After being drugged. Last night he actually fell asleep with his head on my shoulder.
Today, I raked leaves. A lot of them, as you can see (this is pre-raked). The culprit is our massive double trunked tulip tree. Now I am desperate for them to be removed so I can complete the effort to get a feeling of accomplishment.
I also got my flu shot today thanks to my neighbor, Ada who called to let me know there was a free clinic in town today. By the way, Wakefield is the quintessential busy New England town. There is more going on downtown here in this suburb that there was in the middle of the day in West Palm Beach's downtown area. Granted, the main street in WPB was wall-to-wall clubs and rapidly turning-over restaurants, but still. This past Saturday, when Dad and I passed through on our way somewhere, there was a small pack of high schoolers playing on up-turned buckets to raise money for the WHS music department. Dad of course pulled over to give them some money.When I was a kid, I had auburn colored hair
which leaned towards red. Now, the auburn hair leans towards brown and I have been missing the red for a long time. So, the other day, I decided to dye my hair (it doesn't really show much in this picture, does it?). It's a bit strange though. When I got compliments on my hair, people always wondered if I dyed it. I never had, and now, I feel like a bit of a poser. As though I should tell everyone I make eye contact with, “I know...it's dyed now. It didn't used to be but, you see, I missed the red and so I put some in. I just don't want you to think I'm one of those people who doesn't want people to know I dye my hair even though it's probably obvious, you know? Like, I'm not trying to come across as a real red head...even though I was one. Once.”The dye I used wasn't much really, and it came out fine. In fact, I feel like it's even faded a bit since I put it in just the other day.
My roommates, Mom and Dad, are gone right now, and I have been in charge of the doggies. If Bootsie had opposable thumbs, I think she would have burned down the house by now. Really, she's not so bad, she's just so busy and into everything. She's kind of a text book juvenile delinquent. When you're not in the room, she is completely silent. Sitting on the floor or in her crate, she seems perfectly content. But, as soon as there is someone around to impress, she's all over the place! I don't know what got into her last night but she took off from one side of the room, charged around the desk in the middle of the room turned on a dime at the other side of the room and did it again. Turn, run, repeat. Over and over, while grunting.
Meanwhile, Oliver has been quite content with the new tradition of getting up into my lap and falling asleep immediately like one of the two old men in The Muppet Show balcony. After being drugged. Last night he actually fell asleep with his head on my shoulder.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Dogsitting
I bought Bootsie a new toy today in hopes of giving her something to do other than sniff me incessantly. Since she's skiddish about everything, there was a bit of adjustment time.
Investigating the new toy. Even Oliver is curious.
Getting closer.
And...friends.
Investigating the new toy. Even Oliver is curious.
Getting closer.
And...friends.Tuesday, November 11, 2008
All Alone
My parents went to Europe and all I got was a spaztic puppy to look after.
It started with an elementary school reunion for my dad in Switzerland, where he attended school. Then, the trip expanded to include a visit to Prague, which it very cool I think. I dropped my parents off at the airport and immediately got on the phone to start the My parents are out of town so let's have a kegger phone tree. Just kidding.
The dogs are a handful and I dislike very much that I am raising my voice so regularly to say things like, "Bootsie, get your head out of the trash!" and "Don't you dare squat there!" and "That was an antique!"
Again, I exaggerate, but still. It's constant. I am determined however, to break her of her jumping habit and her head in the trash (again) habit by the time my parents return. I love my parents, but it appears to me that they think her jumping up on them is cute. It won't be cute anymore when she jumps up on some kid and accidentally bites their face off because she mistook them for beef jerky.
Last night Oliver was disinterested in dinner, so I put his dish up on the counter so I could feed Bootsie. In the morning, Oliver's dish, which was still on the counter, was empty. I will take this moment to mention that Oliver is not tall enough to do that and our house mice are not that skilled. They tend to prefer the left-out butter. It's better for their coat.
This morning, when I took the two out in the yard to "spend a penny", Bootsie got a bit distracted by the activity in the neighbors' yard. They had hired people to come pull out some trees with some massive trucks. I looked behind me to see what had stopped Bootsie (Oliver off a leash, Bootsie is on one), and I saw her standing shoulder to shoulder with Oliver. Who was trying to poop.
I encouraged Bootsie to move it along and do her thing, but since she's a bit of a bumbling puppy, she plowed into and knocked over Oliver who was mid-poop.
Nice bathroom manners.
It started with an elementary school reunion for my dad in Switzerland, where he attended school. Then, the trip expanded to include a visit to Prague, which it very cool I think. I dropped my parents off at the airport and immediately got on the phone to start the My parents are out of town so let's have a kegger phone tree. Just kidding.
The dogs are a handful and I dislike very much that I am raising my voice so regularly to say things like, "Bootsie, get your head out of the trash!" and "Don't you dare squat there!" and "That was an antique!"
Again, I exaggerate, but still. It's constant. I am determined however, to break her of her jumping habit and her head in the trash (again) habit by the time my parents return. I love my parents, but it appears to me that they think her jumping up on them is cute. It won't be cute anymore when she jumps up on some kid and accidentally bites their face off because she mistook them for beef jerky.
Last night Oliver was disinterested in dinner, so I put his dish up on the counter so I could feed Bootsie. In the morning, Oliver's dish, which was still on the counter, was empty. I will take this moment to mention that Oliver is not tall enough to do that and our house mice are not that skilled. They tend to prefer the left-out butter. It's better for their coat.
This morning, when I took the two out in the yard to "spend a penny", Bootsie got a bit distracted by the activity in the neighbors' yard. They had hired people to come pull out some trees with some massive trucks. I looked behind me to see what had stopped Bootsie (Oliver off a leash, Bootsie is on one), and I saw her standing shoulder to shoulder with Oliver. Who was trying to poop.
I encouraged Bootsie to move it along and do her thing, but since she's a bit of a bumbling puppy, she plowed into and knocked over Oliver who was mid-poop.
Nice bathroom manners.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Have I Mentioned?
Have I mentioned how much I love our soon-to-be President? I do. I really do. I love that he read all the Harry Potter's with his daughter. I love that he wants a shelter dog, "A mutt, like me" he said in a press conference the other day. I love that there was a press conference in which a major topic of discussion was what kind of dog they will be getting in the White House. I also love that in an interview he talked about reminding his daughters about the cold weather in DC. Who will walk the dog when it gets cold out?
Um, you live in the White House. I don't think you have to walk the dog in the dead of winter. But, again, that's why I love him - it appears that the fact that he has all the dog-walker hiring power in the world, it doesn't occur to him. Or, he's hip enough to keep a hold on the importance of responsibility, even when it comes to freezing your ass off walking to dog..
I was chatting with my friend and quasi-sister Jen today. We talked about our experiences on election day and I was charmed by her story. She had gone to the poling booths with her daughter, seven year old Lilly (she's the cutie modeling the shirt at right for my etsy site) and at the polling place, there was a booth for kids to vote in. Not for real of course, and the ballot was simplified (good thing, "How did you vote on the legalization of marijuana, my seven year old High School Musical fan with pink sneakers and a collection of Pet Shop animals at home?").
"It was cute though," Jen told me, "I could hear her mumbling to herself in the booth, going down the list....'OhhhhBaaahMaaah...demmmmocrrrraaaat' - because she didn't know who the other people were - 'demmmmocrrrraaaat...demmmmocrrrraaaat'"
She was very proud. And Lilly got a bookmark and a pencil. I wish I got a bookmark and a pencil when I voted.
Um, you live in the White House. I don't think you have to walk the dog in the dead of winter. But, again, that's why I love him - it appears that the fact that he has all the dog-walker hiring power in the world, it doesn't occur to him. Or, he's hip enough to keep a hold on the importance of responsibility, even when it comes to freezing your ass off walking to dog..
I was chatting with my friend and quasi-sister Jen today. We talked about our experiences on election day and I was charmed by her story. She had gone to the poling booths with her daughter, seven year old Lilly (she's the cutie modeling the shirt at right for my etsy site) and at the polling place, there was a booth for kids to vote in. Not for real of course, and the ballot was simplified (good thing, "How did you vote on the legalization of marijuana, my seven year old High School Musical fan with pink sneakers and a collection of Pet Shop animals at home?").
"It was cute though," Jen told me, "I could hear her mumbling to herself in the booth, going down the list....'OhhhhBaaahMaaah...demmmmocrrrraaaat' - because she didn't know who the other people were - 'demmmmocrrrraaaat...demmmmocrrrraaaat'"
She was very proud. And Lilly got a bookmark and a pencil. I wish I got a bookmark and a pencil when I voted.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
More from Chicago
As you can guess from my November masthead and the previous blog entry, I am just back from a whirlwind trip to Chicago.
It is chilly and wet in MA today, but the country is a new place, somehow.
Shannon and I had a most fabulous time in our less-than-48-hour visit in the windy (but oddly warm) city. I am completely exhausted.
It is chilly and wet in MA today, but the country is a new place, somehow.
Shannon and I had a most fabulous time in our less-than-48-hour visit in the windy (but oddly warm) city. I am completely exhausted.
Little Suzy on the left is about to eat mulch. This was outside Navy Pier, which was a disappointment, due to it virtually being closed.
We had to play with the Lego man in the Nordstroms building.
We stumbled on the Chicago Nature Conservatory while trying to find the green market.
Definitely my favorite, aside form the new President-elect; The Orb (or, as the Chicagoans refer to it - the Bean).
The view from lunch on our first day. The top of the Hancock Building.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Obama! Obama! Obama!
I woke this morning in the Best Western Hotel in Chicago, across the street from Grant Park, and I felt a huge appreciation for my fellow American citizens. When Barak Obama beat out Hillary for the democratic candidate I thought for sure it was over. I just couldn't imagine that the people of this country, with all their prejudices and unwavering opinions would vote for a black president. I have never been more happy to be wrong!Listening to him speak, at rallies on TV or during debates, I loved his calm demeanor, his seemingly inability to get rattled. I loved his “concepts”; that parents should stop blaming their child's teacher for their child's failing and turn off the TV, put away the video games, and read to their child. Accountability. He hoped that when he was elected, he could develop a program where college tuition would be paid in exchange for volunteer work or military service.
These are the kind of ideas that one would throw across the table during a chat over pasta with friends at a corner restaurant. Couldn't we do that? I mean, why not? And this man has actually stated them out loud. Not only is he a man with ideas and what I believe is the gumption to make them happen, but he's also a bit of an un-politician. Which I find funny considering how dreadfully hard Palin worked to be a non-politician. I dig it.
I also woke this morning eternally grateful to my friend, Shannon, for inviting me to meet her in Chicago, and attend what is now a historic rally at Grant Park.
Last night, Shannon and I joined my college friend Colleen and her husband, Dan in a line that ran at least seven blocks down Michigan Avenue. It took two hours and two security checks to get into Grant Park. But the weather was balmy and we enjoyed chatting with the people in front and in back of us in line. After an hour and a half, we became a bit of a clan. We would celebrate together when one of us would get off their cellphone after talking with a friend who was somewhere with a TV, updating us as the counts came in, “He just took Ohio!”. Shannon and I were especially floored and impressed by that one...until he won Florida.
By the time we got in, we were really far back in the crowd and watched the events unfold on a jumbotron. I was a surprised and a bit disappointed at how unemotional the people around me were. Somehow, I thought the place would be a weeping mess. But, no, I think the weepers were in line way before us, so they could be right in front of the stage when Obama took to it.
As the crowds made their way out of the park and into the streets of Chicago, the celebration continued. A group of twenty-somethings were wandering down the street, with one of them, a guy with a crooked hat on and some tacky Obama shirt running up to random people, “You made it happen! I made it happen! We all did it! We all did it together!”
Colleen checks-in with friends while waiting in-line to get into Grant Park.
The fraction of the line along Michigan Avenue.
Obama is announced as the next President of the United States!
More celebrating.
Listening to Obama speak.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Boston Parents Paper
I have an ad on boston.parenthood.com! Very exciting. Right now it's linking to the wrong webpage, but hopefully, that will change.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
Center for the Performing Arts
I'm proud of my Mom. I'm proud of my Dad. But Thursday night was one of those nights where I had to concentrate to not blurt out, "I'm Cydney Scott...as in Peter Scott's daughter!" to every person I met.
Years ago, my Dad became the president of the CPA, the Center for the Performing Arts, an organization whose goal it is to build a decent performing arts center for the high school and the community. At my high school, our smaller theater productions were performed in a lecture hall, where there were "butt-pinching seats" as my Dad described them.
I remember being concerned when Dad told me he was becoming president. It would be stressful, I knew, and my Dad never walks away from something until it's done and done right. He said, though, that he would stay on for six months and then pass on the presidency to someone else. Years later, my dad is still an active member of the group.
First, it was going to be a separate building. Dad would go and pitch the project to people in an effort to get donations...preferably large ones. Maybe ones big enough to have the Center named after the donor?
It's been a struggle. Money promised to the group through grants from the government have fallen through. Not just with this group, but with most community organizations who were relying on grants.
The Center is now being built out of the lecture hall where the butt-pinching seats were at the high school.
But with the lack of funds, there will be a lack of completion.
There was a small opening for the Center on Thursday. An effort to show people what's happening there, the progress which has been made, and how they can help to complete it. A $250 donation buys you a seat. The purchaser of the new cushy, fire engine red non-butt-pinching theater seat will not literally go home with said seat. After all, it's meant to be bolted to the floor. But, it does buy you a shiny plaque with your name on it, or the name of you kids, or you dog, or whatever, and the pride of knowing you helped this project come to completion.
To help out, go here!
Testing the sample seat (which is not the color they will ultimately be)
The handicap accessible technical box.
Dad shows off the black ceilings in the theater.
Part of the evening's entertainment.
How the place looks currently. The chairs don't stay (they were there for the event), and there will be risers there. Eventually. If you buy a chair, it may be sooner!
Years ago, my Dad became the president of the CPA, the Center for the Performing Arts, an organization whose goal it is to build a decent performing arts center for the high school and the community. At my high school, our smaller theater productions were performed in a lecture hall, where there were "butt-pinching seats" as my Dad described them.
I remember being concerned when Dad told me he was becoming president. It would be stressful, I knew, and my Dad never walks away from something until it's done and done right. He said, though, that he would stay on for six months and then pass on the presidency to someone else. Years later, my dad is still an active member of the group.
First, it was going to be a separate building. Dad would go and pitch the project to people in an effort to get donations...preferably large ones. Maybe ones big enough to have the Center named after the donor?
It's been a struggle. Money promised to the group through grants from the government have fallen through. Not just with this group, but with most community organizations who were relying on grants.
The Center is now being built out of the lecture hall where the butt-pinching seats were at the high school.
But with the lack of funds, there will be a lack of completion.
There was a small opening for the Center on Thursday. An effort to show people what's happening there, the progress which has been made, and how they can help to complete it. A $250 donation buys you a seat. The purchaser of the new cushy, fire engine red non-butt-pinching theater seat will not literally go home with said seat. After all, it's meant to be bolted to the floor. But, it does buy you a shiny plaque with your name on it, or the name of you kids, or you dog, or whatever, and the pride of knowing you helped this project come to completion.
To help out, go here!
Testing the sample seat (which is not the color they will ultimately be)
The handicap accessible technical box.
Dad shows off the black ceilings in the theater.
Part of the evening's entertainment.
How the place looks currently. The chairs don't stay (they were there for the event), and there will be risers there. Eventually. If you buy a chair, it may be sooner!Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Eye Hate Surgery
Oliver is a bit better today. He's doing far less whimpering, so I'm hoping that means he's in much less pain. I was putting the NeoPolyBac in his eye a little while ago, it helps prevent infection, and while his eye doesn't look like it's infected or anything, only one side of it will open. He does have a stitch in his upper eyelid. I think all the goop made his eyelid stick together. At least, that's what I'm hoping because if the vet sewed his eye shut, we're going to have some words when we go back for the check-up on Monday.
The recovery room
The recovery room
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