No Wardrobe

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Verboten

I am a terrible singer.  TERRIBLE.  But I am an enthusiastic singer.  ENTHUSIASTIC.  I'll sing almost anything anytime anywhere, but some songs are just too good to sully with the absolute embarrassment that is my earnest, off-key warbling.  Some songs I know better than to ruin for myself by singing them.  So, go ahead and listen to these in their best iterations.  They're wonderful and wholly without the taint of my voice.

Jeff Buckley's cover of "Hallelujah."  Beautiful, haunting, wrenching, and far too good for these pipes.  Also, I don't know if I could get through it without weeping.


"Time Bomb" by Old 97's (and the video is local!).  Uncle Damon and I once tried singing this as a duet in his parents' red station wagon in college. It was painful.  We declared our eternal ban on singing together forever after.  I have extended it into a song-specific, personal ban.  Good song to listen to, GREAT song to drink to, bad song to sing along with.


"What Sarah Said" by Death Cab for Cutie.  Because it's the saddest song I've ever heard and because I can still smell the exact scent of the hand sanitizer used in the hospital if I try hard enough.  Listen at your own risk.


"It's the End of the World As We Know It" by REM.  Yes, it was the final song at our wedding reception, but, no, I did not sing along.  Why?  I don't know the words. Only douchebags memorize the words to this song.  Sad, sad douchebags.  I will not be counted as one of your number!

Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom

Ever hungry for attention, the wily Livy spots her prey lounging on the bed.

Stealthily, she approaches the side of the bed, moving slowly to avoid startling her target.

Accidental eye contact established, she deftly sinks below the horizon of the linens to give the appearance of indifference and to put her victim at a false and deadly ease.

Finally, with the brutal alacrity of a lion and the insatiability of a plague of locusts, she pounces.  Her cuteness has rendered her quarry helpless against high-pitched cooing and giggling.  Where once was a moment of calm leisure is now a bright spotlight of attention bathing the victor in glory.

Livy, red in tooth and claw

Buy Him That: Havarti Shirt

Because we're bootstrappers, SLB and I both attended excellent state schools before launching ourselves toward majestic debt by going to fancy graduate schools.  Although he was accepted into a number of very fancypants law schools, he chose not to attend an Ivy League school.  I, on the other hand, did besmirch an Ivy Leage institution with my attendance, and whenever it looks like he's about to win an argument, be smarter than I am, or even just take a breath, I like to remind him of this.  And that's why someone (hmmmmm Santa?) needs to get him this shirt for Christmas.

Yes, it's a little cheesy (BOOM!), but it's awesome.  Get one here.

No, it won't stop the torrent of arbitrary academic abuse, but it might make me giggle enough to throw me off my game a bit.  That brief reprieve alone makes this shirt truly a gift that promises to keep giving.

A Pride of One

It sounds like a tagline for the Marines, doesn't it?  Instead, I mean this:

One more in the name of love.

After weeks of actively hating the headpiece to her lion costume, weeks in which she'd cry when I put it on her and crawl away quickly whenever she saw it in her toybox, Livy has had a dramatic change of heart.  She found this while playing the other night, brought it over to me, said "hat!" in her most imperious tone, and wore it until bedtime.  She even cried when I took it off of her to put her to bed.  So this Halloween, unlike the last when she was a headless monkey, she may actually wear all the parts of her costume.  And then, friends, she will ROAR!

Friends, Lawyers, Countrymen

Lend me your souls!



Yes, the humor relies on some pretty low-hanging fruit, but it's funny because it's true.  This is also true:  I was all set to take the LSAT (read it out loud, it's funnier that way) when I visited one of SLB's law school classes.  I happily blew off the test after seeing what it really meant to go to law school and never looked back.  No, instead I looked forward to A) being an academic, and then B) being a teacher, both of which commonly twist fresh, young idealism into virulent, filthy cynicism.  Oh, and I make less than a quarter of what SLB does when I'm able to find decent work.  So... I win?

Maybe this stay at home mom gig isn't so bad after all.

Time Off

My mom is recovering from surgery this week, and I'm going to be too busy helping her to blog this week.  I'll be sure to give your love to Spanaway, where rapists and child molesters thrive! 

Buy Her That: Maternity Skeleton Shirt

This one goes out to our fair Mrs. Weaver, who is currently getting plumper by the day carrying Livy's future partner-in-crime.

Skeleton baby by Suburban Belle.  Real baby by Mr. Weaver (gross).

Peek-a-boo!

Livy has finally mastered the concept of Peek-a-boo, if not quite the practice.  Practice makes perfect, though, and like lady on the video says, "We strive for perfection."



And, yeah, I know I sound like a chipmunk who got a hold of a helium balloon.  But so would you if you had a sweet baby playing adorable tricks on you.

Buy Me That: Mike Monteiro Print

How on earth did we survive Livy's first year without this nugget of inspiration on our wall?

It's available in two sizes at 20x200 and is much edgier and more unique than the "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster all of your twee hipster friends have.

Rock Stars

Left Coast Melancholy

My lady love...

Today is exactly the kind of day that makes me miss living in New York the most.  It's clearly autumn; the air is just a little crisp and the most peripheral leaves are starting to turn orange and red on the trees, but the sky is a cartoon blue and the sun is shining.  This kind of autumn day is rare here, where things turn gray long before they turn cold, but it's typical of New York.  Those were always my favorite days.  If I were back now I'd do my favorite weekend trek and take the subway from our apartment in Brooklyn Heights up to 116th St., stop in at Labyrinth and Bank Street to fill up my backpack with treasures, and then wander my way downtown and across the bridge back home.  It's an all-day adventure, which is part of its charm.  It's like taking a little trip without being more than a long walk home, but the effect upon arriving home is that of having been gone, rather than just out. 

So Seattle is home now, and that's good.  But some days it just can't hope to be good enough.

EXACTLY

So, you know how at every park there is at least one mom who sticks to herself at the periphery of the playground and talks mostly to her child and maybe that child's playmates while all the other moms are clustered in a group chatting?  That's me.  And it's because I fear this.