We'll just call this one a (failed) color study

Hoooo boy. The baby that gets this card better have sunglasses. Learning a lot about how not to color something. I think sans border is the way to go, but it's still garish. (doesn't keep me from sending it, though)

Keep sleeping, Gus

Learning about colored pencil and marker layering. And wishing for a really fantabulous scanner.

Happy Birthday, Super Z!

(edited to protect the innocent)

Percolating

A lot of birthdays for really wonderful folks are on the near horizon. We're sketching out ideas so that good things arrive in their mailboxes.

Taking back the living room

When Gus was born, I lamented (and did my best to prevent) the plastic objects that found their way into our home: Garishly colored toys that took up space and had no design sense. Why does a bouncy chair, for a baby whose eyes do not even focus, feature such horrible art? Who decided that Disney is better for babies than Picasso? I made rules: Wood only. Handmade only. Quirky only. But those rules quickly went the way of the "my baby will never use a pacifier" and "my baby won't dictate my schedule" platitudes. For the sake of sanity and Gus's entertainment, I've grown rather lax in my toy standards and now my interior decorating is pretty much a Plastic Ugly Party juxtaposed against Tibetan cabinets and Nepalese rugs. And darn it if the baby doesn't love each and every rainbow colored item.

But, there will soon be a change. Thanks to some fantabulous inspiration from Sarah Wandering, I will no longer be tormented by the colors on the foam alphabet rug (for which I do dearly thank Grandma M--it is beloved, needed, and well-used--just poorly colored) occupying one third of our living room. I've got Acrylic Primer ready to slather on that eyesore and painting schemes a-brewin'. I hope Gus likes it.

 

 

P's Big Day

If you're a very good birthday boy, you'll get to have breakfast with the king.

And, you'll get TWO kinds of cupcakes.

And with any luck, not too many people will show up to your party, so you won't have to share the largest bag of chips Prague has to offer. Good thing we didn't make much salsa.

 

Happy Birthday!

My very best friend is 35 years fabulous today. May his year be full of delicious pints and lots of laughter. And a bit more sleep.  I'm so grateful for you, Buddy.

The Pretender

There was a time in my life when I made bad mix tapes (last March?). Now I make bad mix cards. Grotesque or not, I draw each door with love and hope they convey far more interesting messages than the Jackson Browne songs I used to send people.

It's a measure of people who don't understand

We must be on the mend. I baked a batch of ginger molasses cookies (we need iron, you know) and did not cry once. After 12:00pm. But really, we are better. We woke up fever free; gone are the fevery no-sleep/half-sleep delusions that tormented us most of the night for the past five loooooong sleeps. Last night's was actually enjoyable: I was having a conversation with myself using only lyrics from Waylon Jennings' songs. When I finally found myself in a lucid state, I wondered if I'd really used WJ lyrics, or if I'd deluded myself through them. This Christmas, one of our travel buddies, BW, dreamt he was rapping up a storm. He wondered that if he had the capability to rhyme like that in his sleep, then surely those same words are in his daytime head, right? P disagreed. He said BW only thought he was rapping well and that it was probably all gibberish. So today I tormented P with a full playing of WJ's album to test my fever-time skills.

Turns out I was SPOT ON. Not sure that proves BW's point (as I have an embarrassingly large supply of WJ song lyrics memorized).

Special thanks today to Upstairs Neighbor for taking Gus all afternoon so these ramblers-on-the-ridiculous could finally catch some sleep. He came home totally blissed out and bonkers. That boy sure loves a crowd.

Oh, I sing the praises of the Usborne Doodle Books. I don't have the energy to draw or read---but I can turn pages.

Coping with the temperatures

104 degrees is too high. Fevers are running amuck in this house, and as adults, we feel that we should protest. Fevers are for children. Not 35 year old peeps with jobs to do and hallways to vacuum. There were five free days of vacation that got all swallowed up by tissues and Panadol and achy legs. And the end is not in sight! We're trying not to dwell on our disappointment and are focusing on being grateful the baby is feeling better. But this means that a wild Gus is on the loose while his parents huddle in and out of sweats and chills.

We're also grateful for a country where house calls are the norm. Hooray for doctor home visits! The nicest doctors came today to examine the fam. We were able to stay in pjs, ignore the rain, and keep the trams safe from sickness.

The rest of the day seems a little daunting. P and I are trading naps and allowing our parenting to grow so lax that we're completely ignoring the driving while talking on the phone. 

Feasting in Italy (perhaps the worst photo collection ever)