introducing kalani

Dave and I are the proud uncle and aunt of a new nephew! Dave's brother Mick and his wife Donna welcomed a new little baby boy into the Rowley fold about three weeks ago. Kalani John Rowley is his name! He is terribly cute.

I think. I haven't seen any pictures of him but I will wager that he is cute because he is a baby and he is a Rowley. This doesn't feel like a giant gamble.

I have made some hypothetical images of Kalani with which to celebrate his arrival.



Baby chicks = adorable. We will adopt this theme. Kalani has hands, though. Not stumps.



Kalani was named after a famous surfer. Named Kalani. Here are Kalani and Mick surfing already. Except that's not Mick. But that's Kalani. Isn't he adorable? Just like a baby chick! Who can surf!



Kalani is also a brand of coffee based here in Seattle. Here's a pound of our new nephew! What a cutie. Smells like coffee, but also yellow and fluffy. This is him in French Roast. He's organic.

Hurray for Kalani! Hurray for Mick and Donna! Hurray for Daniel and Bryson and Brodie, his older brothers! When we have some real pictures of him, we will post them.

P.S. If you think we're crazy for just assuming that this brand new baby is cute, look at one of his older brothers. This is Brodie a couple of years ago.




See? We're not as crazy as you initially thought. You were like, babies, I don't know. They're okay I guess. But now you're eating humble pie. And now you're like, baby chick! That is apt!

P.P.S. I posted twice today now so it's okay that I failed to post yesterday.

my strategy failed

My last post was all I'm beating the system suckers but then my system beat me. If you wait until like 11:30pm to post BUT THEN YOU FORGET then you have missed the day! I missed yesterday by like twenty minutes. I will post twice today. But it won't be the same. My record will be blemished. If I manage to not miss a day again this year, I'll at least hit the Blog 365 number. But who am I kidding that I will never forget again?! Dang.

if you're posting every day for a year

What you have to do is post just before and after midnight. Do two posts in the one sitting. LIKE I'M DOING! SUCKERS! 366 posts in 183 sessions! (Yes, Blog 365, I'm taking it to the limit and posting on the 29th of February because the day off would make it feel like I missed a spot.)

Something good comes out of doing something every day for a year, I believe. "Except heroin," pointed out my friend Kristen. Except heroin and murder and some other things. Yes.

Whoever ends up googling "heroin and murder" and arriving at this here sort of mommyish blog, well, hello! You have dialed a wrong number.

you. say it!

So, I'm still breastfeeding Finn. And I used to use these great Danish wool breast pads but I don't know where they went so I've been using tissues or paper towels because that's the kind of guy I'm. (That's half of a Will Rogers rhyme which I love. I'm biding my time 'cause that's the kind of guy I'm.) And so recently I was using some folded-up Kleenex for a breast pad - and this was in the dark, putting Finn down for his night's sleep --

Look, this might be a little bit...well, gross is too strong a word, but unsavory in some way. Mildly icky. You're free to go if you want. I won't know. You can go see if they're having a sale at Macy's online or something. It's okay.

If you are still here, don't get mad at me if you feel ultimately that you would rather have been shopping at Nordstrom or whatever. Only you know your ick quotient, and where it falls.

So it was dark, and there was the folded-up Kleenex preventing leakage on one side while Finn nursed on the other. And then it was time to switch sides and I took the tissue away and Finn went to nurse but then he wouldn't do it. He kept popping off and saying "No." And eventually I figured out that there was a little wet bit of tissue that had stuck to my boob from the leakage LOOK I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A LITTLE ICKY DON'T COMPLAIN NOW and Finn understandably didn't want to have it go in his mouth. I removed it and made a big deal of showing him that the little bit of tissue wasn't there anymore and he was free to go about his business and everything was okay. I assured him that I understood that it must have been weird, and he agreed. "That was weird," he said.

But this Kleenex business has haunted him. And now when he goes nurse, he must always affirm, "There's no Kleenex there" before he begins. He says it before each boob. "There's no Kleenex there on Mommy's boob." Yes, there's no Kleenex, I say. That will never happen again. I pledge to you. Never again.

This morning he took it to a new level. Before he nursed he said it again as usual, "There's no Kleenex on Mommy's boob." I said, "That's right." And then he said, "Mommy. SAY IT." I obediently repeated, "There's no Kleenex on Mommy's boob." Then he pointed to Dave and said, "Daddy. SAY IT," and Dave had to say, "There's no Kleenex on Mommy's boob." And only then did Finn take the proceedings forward.

I wonder how long this will last. And a quick question: does anyone else call them "Kleenexes" instead of "tissues" normally? I have to make myself use the word "tissue". I have been deeply branded by the Kleenex people. Congratulations to you, Johnson and Johnson.

a nice picture that i didn't make with a lame post that i did

Blogging every day for a year! A person can forget until ten minutes to midnight. And so normally, faced with an uninspired ten - and now nine - minutes, a person would throw in the towel for the day.

But I SAID I WAS GOING TO BLOG EVERY DAY AND I'M DOING IT.

SEE YOU TOMORROW.

self portrait: my caucusing powers of february 9th. "no problem, barack."

South Carolina! The dream is aliiiiiiiive! He's going to give his speech soon. Gotta go. Woo!

my heart can't take the playoffs

This political season is going to leave me needing blood pressure medication. It's like your team is in the NFC championship game and the game going to last for months and months and your heart is in your throat and your foam finger is trembling in the air until your arm wants to fall off and then it's the Super Bowl which will also go on for something close to eternity. The suspense and the worry are killing me. I can barely watch any more.

A big amen to this bit from The Daily Kos which I found via Mike Daisey's blog.

Where the hell has this red-faced, angry, combative Bill Clinton been for the last eight years?

Did Bill get angry and demand that wrongs be righted after the Florida miscount? After Bush v. Gore? After Bush, Cheney, and Rice blew off his concerns about terrorism for 8 months? After Bush's unpreparedness for, inadequate and incomplete response to, and unconscionable exploitation of 9/11? After the unfair media and GOP attacks on Al Gore, Howard Dean, and John Kerry? After Katrina? Plame? The US Attorneys? The "lost" emails? The countless other mistakes and malfeasances of the Bush administration?

Sorry, Bill -- by remaining silent in the face of so many grave catastrophes, you forfeited your right to attack Obama. You forfeited your right to be taken seriously as someone concerned about defending the principles of the Democratic Party -- or of the Constitution, for that matter. You, more than anyone on the entire planet (with perhaps the exception of Colin Powell, who's beholden to neither the Democratic Party nor Hillary Clinton) acquiesced in the American disaster that is the Bush administration by your silence. By your lack of outrage. You could have spoken when it mattered. But you didn't.

And now, by speaking out against Obama, you implicitly argue that he is a greater threat to the Republic and the Democratic Party than anything or anyone over the last 8 years.

So shut the fuck up, Bill.

This reminds me of how I feel about the possibility of Nader entering the race. Dave made this point earlier today. If Nader had been out pushing green issues for the last four or eight years, I might still be upset about his presence in the race, but it would be a little more meaningful at least. Instead he's just popping up at election time, all "Look at me!". Oh, damn it. I have like four minutes to get this posted. That's good. I want to shut up anyway. I can't even watch myself type. It's all too stressful. My heart. Agh.

fall of lemonface!

Project Runway! You made me hang around with this lemon incarnate for too long. But you have finally redeemed yourself! Victorya Hong - of The Many Bad Moods of Victorya Hong, of The Many Condescending Exchanges of Victorya Hong, and the Many Boofy Unflattering Minidresses of Victorya Hong - has been auf'd. PH balance has been restored. Alkalinity returns.

I will dissolve the ruffled thing with my sour gaze before it can win.


My body language explains why children flock to me, Nina Garcia.


I 'm at my warmest when explaining my competitor's failings to them.

Au revoir, lemonface! Adios, Lemony Snicket! I dance on your puckery grave!

P.S. All hail Sweet P! She's a downy comforter, a stiff drink and a fuckin' bouquet of daffodils all wrapped up in one. I love her. She must win.

self portrait: practicing not thinking so much

let us be the first parents to not screw up

Hi Finn. Hi, you. Love you in the Harry Potter glasses your uncle gave you. You've also recently sussed out smiling for the camera. That's the way, sugar! Leave no square millimeter of enamel hidden. And everyone, behold the view I get when my boy's heading in for a smooch. Ideally I'd like his face to remain within three inches of my face at all times. He also smells good.

So, I don't mean screw up like in the small ways we have already screwed up nine million times and will screw up thirty trillion more before we're dead. I don't mean that. I mean that I was just thinking the other day that the possibility exists that we can hurt him. We can do something, knowingly or unknowingly, that makes him feel smaller inside.

It hit me - boof - in the gut, this possibility. We could bestow on this tiny man that we love more than anything some creepy, slow burning gift of self-doubt or self-loathing or shame or something else that we don't even know to watch out for. We, by not knowing ourselves properly, can slice off little pieces of his well-being day by day.

Don't get me wrong. So far I think we're doing pretty well. Nobody can accuse us of not loving Finn. We shower him with love and we laugh all the time and we keep the small things small and the big things big and we're fairly sure we know which is which. I'm not crippled with self-doubt about our parenting. We're all right. We're good.

But chances are good that we're missing something because most parents do their best and feel this way and love their children and try not to skip the big beats. And most people have some kind of goddamn wound courtesy of Mom and Dad. So, the math, do it and weep.

Wish us luck. We really want to crack this thing. It's our Apollo mission. Let it not be the one that ended up with the Tom Hanks movie.

i have a new band again

This is truly a great pastime, this meme that I posted about two days ago.

This album is dedicated to my husband, Dave. Today is the third anniversary of our tiny little courthouse wedding, our first wedding. We had three friends there holding two cellphones connected to two loved ones. One friend played the ukelele, he played the Beatles song "Things We Said Today". I carried a bunch of irises and dahlias from Larry's Market. The bulk of our little wedding party then retired to the Four Seasons for tea; that was our reception. Then Dave and I went to the Kingfish for dinner. We told the hostess we'd just gotten married. The bartender made us fancy little drinks with raspberries and champagne and then in the kitchen they wrote Congratulations on the plate that held our big slice of red velvet cake. Before we went into the Kingfish, we called my parents and I unknowingly had the last conversation I would ever have with my dad. He said, "You've been spliced" over and over. He sounded like he was smiling. Whenever I hear that Beatles song now, I think of Dave but mostly I think of my dad. After dinner, Dave and I went to a movie - we saw "In Good Company". That was our miniature honeymoon, the dinner and the movie.

This album is also dedicated to Finn, who turned 21 months old yesterday and has his pronouns and maybe some other things confused, so he'll walk up to me and say, "Mommy loves you" or "I love Finny." He'll also walk up to me and press a book into my hand saying, "Absolutely read it." Will do, my dear. Fuckin' totally will do.

I am Tina. You will have heard of me because of my band, Lamporrecchio.

murmurers

Sometimes it's enough just to listen to the classical music station DJs talking. You don't even need the actual classical music to come on.

That was Mozart's Early Symphony No. 46 in C, the Consentus Musicus Vienna there....

Very good, my calm nasal friend. Keep talking. I like it. You're better than Xanax.

i am up for about 300 more memes this year

I would like to extend my thanks to the estimable Shannie Shoo Shoo for my discovery of this meme who saves my posting ass today. I quote the whole thing verbatim. Bless you, Shannon Kipp, though you may not have sneezed.


*************


Album cover meme...

Here are the rules:

Go to this website:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random

The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3

The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/

The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.You then take the pic and add your band name and the album title to it, then post your pic.

*************

And here is my result:

we in the fast moving checkout line are on our own

The Cosmopolitan magazine was right there, and the guy in front of me had a small but densely packed cart so I thought I had a shot. I flipped and flipped but all the perfume ads and subscription cards and other cover story poaching guards blocked me until my time ran out. I would have had 10 subliminal tricks to make people adore me. Also, I could have found out why John Mayer says that all men aren't assholes. But it's the tricks to make people adore me that I would have liked.

Maybe I've stumbled on one. Put make people adore me in italics whenever possible, and that genie from The Secret will do it, he will make people adore me. (Yes, I watched it. I watched The Secret. I know what it is. Riches and bliss are mine, clownfish.)

But even if I have stumbled on one, I am without the other nine. I am going to make them up because I don't think it's fair that we in the fast line, we non-Cosmo-subscribers, we non-Cosmo-purchasers should have to shuffle around all unadored. I am going to use the penetrating power of my mind to determine what these tricks are for us. I am going to drill my way into a psychic Cosmo and unearth them. I will unearth all ten. The italics one is free. It is the thirteenth bagel. Enjoy it.

Ten Subliminal or Not Subliminal Tricks to Make People Adore You

1. When you speak to people, have your default mouth be a pucker, like you are about to lay a smooch upon them. And raise your eyebrows to make sure that you aren't conveying some kind of lemon-in-mouth message. Smile with your eyes.

2. If you are walking down the hallway with a colleague, slip your hand into theirs so you are walking hand in hand. (Let me know how this works. I don't have any colleagues.)

3. Mouth "I adore you" a few times when you want to take a break from puckering your mouth in a conversation.

4. Carry some cash in your hand, and casually dangle it towards people like you aren't aware you're doing it.

5. Say "bless you" to people when they did not sneeze. Just say it.

6. Sigh blissfully while people are speaking.

7. Do a miracle in front of the person whose adoration you would like.

8. Go around with a little bag and say you're collecting adoration for needy children but then when people give it to you, keep it. Keep the bag. (Don't tell anyone you kept the bag. This is very important.)

9. Post to your blog every day for a year. People adore this! Especially people on Facebook whose newsfeeds are clogged with your imported notes. What I mean to say is do not have a blog.

10. Carry around this month's issue of Cosmopolitan and people will assume you know the tricks, and then that will be a trick, they will think they're already being tricked into adoring you, and it will work. Even if they are aware that it's a trick, they will not know how to defend themselves.

We're in like Flynn, suckers!

to have to post every day feels like this today

eureka! maybe

Oh my god. Am I the first person to be drawing this analogy I'm about to draw?! I feel like Benjamin Franklin discovering electricity or something. I'm probably not the first. I'm surely the fiftieth. I thought I was the originator of "_________y Mc _________erson". Without a doubt I was not.

Nonetheless!

It's perfect. It's not perfect. It's almost perfect. I think it's good. It's good. It's good enough.

During the Democratic debate last night -- now I'm Isaac Newton -- an apple fell on my head and I understood that:






and also - Oedipal, but






so naturally








and for extra credit we feature








which leads to





and since the lily has already been gilded to within an inch of its life and the idea is getting sort of cheapened and diluted from the first relatively pristine group of three you might as well but I'm sure I'll wish I didn't just because it's not very elegant or surprising






Yeah. Three is way better than six. Unless four through six are totally out of left field.

today's bad math

+



=







The next step is to bring Larraine* over here as soon as possible on a permanent basis. We can't be putting her on any more planes to leave us. It's just wrong.

*Dave's mama, for those just tuning in.

**********************
THE MORE UPLIFTING PART OF THE POST

Overheard in the house just now, as Finn is wandering around in a too-small hat that culminates in a mouse head...

Dave: Finn, I forget. Are you a pixie or an elf?

Finn (bored): Pixie.

A few minutes later, as a still-behatted Finn wanders up to a hatless me...

Finn: You look cute in that hat.

hasty self portrait in before midnight...

...which looks more like Leslie Caron but whatever. I posted!

of late i am cranky

I don't know who or what is retrograde where but whatever you say to me, whoever you may be, I am liable to take it wrong and stew about it and make up imaginary scenarios that take it one step further and get all worked up - until I catch myself. And then I practice this idea I've been reading about and say to myself, I'm not angry. My mind is angry. Look at my mind. Look at that. It's angry. Hmm. Hmmm. I see. I see it.

And then I'm able to understand that the person crossing in the crosswalk who has a walk sign but who's crossing when I'm waiting to turn left over that crosswalk, that person isn't fucking with me. That person is all right. Free to go. And so are you, whoever you are. You're free to go, too, you person who accidentally with your mouth stepped on a landmine in my head.

But I'm a teeny tiny cranky time bomb/minefield of late. Go figure.

it is tutta bella

Please enjoy some Hanne Hukkelberg while we go and eat some pizza at Tutta Bella. "And see the lady," adds Finn. Yes. We're going to eat pizza and see the lady. I bet you wish you were going to see the lady. You should totally go see the lady. Watch the Hanne Hukkelberg video then go see the lady. The lady at the pizza.

stream of consciousness

exhausted from rehearsal got stuck in the half-elevator at Ross Dress-For-Less with Larraine we had to yell down we're stuck to the cashier like we were juliet and juliet calling down for romeo all the customers poking their heads over the racks watching the cashier was like don't touch that button and I was like I just touched it and she was like well don't turn that key and I was like I just turned it and then she finally got us out and bargains sort of abounded sort of rehearsal weird sort of performing into a bit of a vacuum as no time for notes or commentary and impassive faces chinese food is on the way and a cupcake is already down there waiting for the chinese food to join it in my stomach I mean that's what I mean Finn calls everything lovely today my shoes are lovely this shirt is beautiful these door knobs are wonderful Finn is satisfied I however am exhausted good night I will join you again tomorrow try and sleep well what with all the excitement waiting for the post of january 12th

i forgot to tell you about christmas

It was truly the best Christmas I've ever had in my life. Magical, seriously, from top to bottom. The concept of Christmas kicked in for Finn this year and it was so, so good.

Also, beautiful Larraine (my mama-in-law) was with us from Australia again, and she and Finn have become thick as thieves. We're going to nail her feet to the floor. It'll hurt, but she'll get used to it. The plane back to Australia on Tuesday will have to live with an empty seat. And she'll have to live with some flesh wounds. It'll all be all right.

And it snowed! On Christmas! In Seattle! I've lived here since 1978, and that's maybe happened 3 or 4 times, tops. Larraine had never seen it snow. So, you know, sweet! She was amazed that it came down so slow. She thought that it would rocket down a little faster, being all icy and whatnot. She wasn't prepared for the slow, silent, stealth factor of snow. And the snowflakes started tiny but grew to the size of cookies, cartwheeling their way to Earth in slow motion. We were dying with pleasure.

Usually we do our presents on Christmas Eve, and just have stockings on Christmas morning, and then we either host or go to someone else's house for dinner on Christmas day. This year we had our favorite ancient couple over for dinner on the afternoon of the 24th, and just stayed at home in our pajamas, essentially, for rest of the holiday. Sweet fruit, fruities! Uninterrupted leisure. Snow. Fire in the fireplace. Stellar moods. Extreme relaxation. Finn all, WHAT IS HAPPENING, WHO IS THIS SANTA, WHY DO I HAVE THIS UNBELIEVABLE NEW VACUUM?! (Don't ask. He loves vacuuming. I don't know.)

And then there were all sorts of synchronicities and magical things afoot. Books being open randomly to incredibly meaningful passages for the book openers. Departed loved ones making their presences felt. And also SNOW! And French toast and chocolate and wine.

Come and behold it.