Even though that seems to be the case, it is not. Just to clarify…so when I say, “I love my family” you don’t think I mean his iphone, too. Because I really don’t. But when I say something like “tonight I took a walk with my family” or “tonight I ate dinner with my family”, that does include The Other Woman. It’s a very fine line, really.

I love my family.

(But not that other woman.)

Can I just tell you what Hazel is wearing in that photo? A 3-6 month skirt that she’s been wearing for a year. And beads that she took from around my neck on St. Patrick’s day and has yet to return. I am monumentally excited that she likes beads. Gabe’s has a set of chunky Melissa & Doug lacing beads for $5.99 and I very nearly bought them for Hazel today because I’ve been waiting, waiting for her to care about beads.

But I didn’t. I have to pay our cell phone bill. Adding another member to your family is pricey enough to make a $5.99 toy seem like a huge extravagance.

Other things, lately, seem that way – and not because of our cell phone bill (which is definitely a HUGE extravagance that I never would have foreseen – but here we are). Mainly because, you know, we don’t so much have jobs and are trying very very hard to make our money L-A-S-T so Mikey can get as much school work done as possible – while also keeping Hazel out of daycare – before one of us has to find gainful employment besides Etsy and babysitting and such. Not paying any rent is very helpful with this endeavor. And also because I have simultaneously been thinking about two things a lot lately. Not so much worrying about them, just thinking. Thinking about how for the next X number of years we will be – at once – paying off debt from our own four university degrees and trying desperately to save enough for our kids’ future degrees. Especially any sons that we may have, because if we read them The Butter Battle Book enough times they might not be eligible for any kind of government financial aid, if you know what I mean.

So there’s also that.

I guess the big questions are: can I make it basically the rest of my life without buying bubble bath, Coke and flavored coffee (still indulging in those two), contact lenses, razor blades and everything else that I truly do not need?

Could the two liter in our pantry be the last one I ever buy? Of course. I would be without my #1 on a very short list of simple, instant pleasures – it would be much more delicious as a treat on a road trip or from some friend’s fridge, as I know from many previous Coke-fasts. Coffee? Yes – I’ve only been drinking that stuff every morning since the first snow-in. I might not want it on warm mornings anyway. I have not bought bubble bath since I was pregnant. I am out of contacts and do not see myself (har har) spending money on them anytime soon because I have perfectly functional glasses. I’m on my last razor blade and hate buying them so much that I might just stop shaving my legs.

I think by the time Hazel is old enough to start asking for some Coke when I pour a glass for myself (SOON), we’ll stop keeping it in the house, so that will be easy. I guess get what I can now, sneaking hits of it here and there, every time I get in the car it seems, a nice big dose at the end of the day, kind of like Mikey’s Other Woman.

Do I stop shaving my legs, though? It gets so itchy.

“Can we get a dog?”
“Maybe.”
“Can we have a baby?”
“No.”
“Can we get a dog?”
“Maybe.”
“Can we get cable?”
“No.”
“Can we get a dog?”
“Maybe.”
“Can we get an SUV?”
“No.”
“Can we get a dog?”
“Maybe.”

I think I’m wearing him down.

Today: while I was at work, my husband cleaned house in a way that I had no idea he was capable of doing.

This time next Saturday: I will be wedding-receptioning at the Muscar-Kellner festivities, drinking lots of blue moon until I’m tipsy enough to dance, hopefully with one Miss Kelly Strauttmann.

The Saturday after: Angie-in-law will be here for the night with cousins Julie & Tracie. So excited to have visitors & Ethiopian food!

The Saturday after: gaming, I’m sure.

The Saturday after: home again for Jeremy & Rita’s wedding!!!

And then it’s almost December.

Mikey & Drew. Aw.

Contemplating the word “wedgy”.

Me: “It’s spelled w-e-d-g-i-e.”
M: “No… like… that piece of pizza is kind of wedgy. It’s probably a word.”

I hate it when he laughs that “I’m making this up” laugh and then he’s right.

I have no more Lost for a whole year. It was amazing. I cried during almost every episode. I can’t believe the writing talent behind this show… it’s not human. During the last few episodes I had to take several extended breaks to allow my blood pressure to return to normal.

- no more Lost for a whole year.
+ get to see Mario & Jenn tomorrow at the Shakespeare festival in Stratford (and discuss Lost).
+- there will be action figures this winter. I don’t know how I feel about this. Mikey will pout if I have a sawyer toy.
- bread goes bad REALLY fast in this country. This might seem silly, but it’s true.
+ but that’s probably because there are less preservatives.
+ my cousin is mailing me cheese from South Dakota.
- Hershey’s chocolate is not the same.
+ Mikey wallowing on the floor with Dorothy pinned in his arms… “STAY! you aren’t a prisoner, you’re my daughter!”
+ metal-on-metal bang announcing mail arrival.
+ it’s supposed to get warmer over the next few days.

I want to learn how to make handmade books / photo albums. Like… ones that are bound really well. Archival. I also still need glass & metal handling knowledge for some pendant ideas that have been in my brain for months. Why do I have to get a real job. Why?

Also, day 4 sprouts, plus some new babies where we’ve put part of the first batch into salads or pitas or just our mouths:


mmmmmmmm.

How is it possible that I am sitting here, and season two of Lost is sitting on my diningroom table, unopened. Just sitting there? I have such restraint! I wasn’t expecting it until the fifteenth, and when I heard a knock on the door and spied a human with a pile of boxes through my peephole my heart leapt into my throat. I opened the box and shed a few tears (I swear), and then set it down on the table, still in the shrinkwrap. I have a few things I HAVE to do before the insanity begins, and I’m not even letting myself examine the packaging. I’ve had five Etsy orders since I moved here and I’ve mailed out none of them. I’ve been in touch with the buyers so they’re expecting late delivery, but I already feel like a jerk and can’t put them off any longer. I have to package up those things to mail out, which Mikey will have to do for me tomorrow morning because I will obviously be occupied. I was also going to apply for a bunch of jobs this evening, but that can wait. I probably won’t even sleep tonight. Locke-problem first, jobs later. Mikey and I watched the first half of the 9/11 movie on ABC (is that right?) at John’s last night, and the last two hours are on tonight. We were going to go over, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to miss it. I know what happens, anyway.

Yesterday we went to the grocery store and bought tons of food. For two weeks we’ve just gotten a few things as we needed them (two decent grocery stores within thirty seconds of us), but yesterday was The Grocery Shopping Trip. This particular store had vertical poles spaced evenly around their entrance so you can’t take your shopping cart to your car. The spots right by the entrance are designated for parking and loading up your purchases. Strange. So anyway, this elderly woman and myself were waiting for the husbands to get the cars, and she eyed my cart and chuckled and said, “well you certainly did a good job.” I mentioned that we’d just moved here and had to stock up. She asked where from, and I said the states.

“Oh really! My mother was born in West Virginia. Do you know where that is? In a little coal mining town outside of Morgantown. My grandfather owned the company store. She was married there… had to wait for the circuit rabbi to come through town. Then she relocated to Pittsburgh. I was born in Detroit.”

Of course I was on the verge of tears and could barely get the words “I’m from West Virginia” out of my mouth. Then I tried to breathe and told her that my mom was born in Detroit, and she clapped her hands and said, “well we might find that we’re related before these men get back!!” I want this to happen a lot.

Also….

My baby started school today. Don’t you just want to pinch his cheeks?

Our phone is hooked up now. I sent out a mass email that Mikey will forward on to his contacts, and if that doesn’t cover you let me know if you’d like our number.

I can’t believe season two of Lost is right… over… there….

When Mikey and Andy were kids recording in the basement, the in-between-song banter was stuff like Andy’s tiny, high-pitched voice saying “I can’t do it!!” and Mikey’s pubescent impatience saying “yes you CAN, come ON.”… and then they would start the song.

Now it’s mostly belching and profanity, but the songs are exponentially better. They recorded six songs last night with just a microphone between them, each just one track. One of them can be found here, and the rest should be online for the taking in the next week or so.

While they were doing that, I was severing toy dinosaurs and hanging eating utensils from earrings hooks. And watching “Bring It On”. I LOVE THAT MOVIE. I was never a cheerleader, never wanted to be, and I LOVE BRING IT ON. Katie Kosydar, I know you are with me.

Creepy magnets.

Fun earrings.

Some more @ Etsy.

Just uploaded some new things to Etsy. Some wallets & earrings.

Before I did that, we went to Toronto.

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Dear Katherine Hepburn,
Thank you for paying my student loan bill with your face, which I just sold on ebay for fifty-five dollars. 

Dear summertime,
Thank you for finally containing summer-like activities. At least in Ethan’s backyard, where we danced to John Prine songs on an uneven surface of creek rock, dripping cold-beer-can-sweat onto the tops of our feet, spinning and jumping perhaps a little too close to the fire pit. I promise that I kept one motherly eye on him while the other photographed Mikey from every angle.

Dear Lucero,
Thank you for coming back to Morgantown, where I might actually get to see you if these paper dolls keep selling and fate will allow. I love your whiskey and mountains voice, even if you are cocky.

Dear JK Rowling,
Thanks to you, I am going to be in grief counseling with Janet, Cooper, and Maggie at least. How does it feel to know that you are going to be torturing the very souls of MILLIONS? Maybe you really are evil.

Dear Mr. Iafrate,
Thank you for being one of those loathed people who has everything good happen to them with very little effort, because it’s rubbing off on me. I now have a GOOD summer job that I did not even have to apply for – it just fell into my lap. Also, you fell asleep face down on the floor behind me, and now the rest of your beer is getting warm. Wake up and drink up, son.

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