A fresh coat of paint

One of the things I like most about original artwork is how it keeps your home feeling fresh and alive*.
Recently (too recently) I started feeling that the giant Merry Christmas chalk picture hanging in the dining room was starting to loose it's freshness. It's March, go figure.
So I went ahead and glopped all of my favorite colors together, and painted this fun one to take its place.
It reminds me of a Michelle Armas painting, although truthfully I like hers more. But it was the night before we were having friends over for dinner for the first time. (Which is the number one best way to get projects done and the house clean.) And there wasn't time or money for buying something fabulously original, so all in all I'm pleased.


* Also, if you do it yourself it costs next to nothing! So it can be fun, and expressive, and not a huge commitment.

We got a walker!

Or how we say it, a Walky Wog!
He's been playing around with the idea for some weeks now. But he's really into it now and walks more than he crawls.
I am SO happy/proud/excited for him. I guess I better get him some shoes!

A shared love.

Today marked an exciting first. I opened my very first brand new record.
There are a few key words in that sentence. New and my.
Although Kent is so kind as to refer to the houses's record collection as ours, most all of the records present have been selected and purchased by him. And although we do honestly and genuinely share some serious favorites, there's a very wide number that are strictly his jam. 
But, there is a little place that I have carved out of my own on the record shelf. (Or maybe it's just mine because Kent totally ignores it.)
The last and dustiest cube, that isn't alphabetized, nor are they wearing protective sleeves. It is home to a great mish mash of WW2 era crooners, international intrumentals, a few oddities and a goodly amount of musical soundtracks like Zorba the Greek and Funny Girl*.
So as you see, I do have a few records that I have purchased or taken under my understanding wing as I would my own. But this is my first new record, that I picked out and paid full price for. Something of the quality that might be seen on the other shelves.
It's The Black Keys album called Brothers. And it's awesome and perfect, and Kent doesn't really like them, which makes this purchase even more awesome and perfect and mine.

 It was my first time taking the plastic off of a record sleeve and finding goodies inside like a bonus cd for the car, and a heap big poster. There was dancing in my jammies. Which is cool, because this isn't why I usually dance in my jammies.
This is a relatively new thing.
Kent of course has always been a purist when it comes to music sound quality, preferring records over cds or digital downloads.
And up until recently I mostly saw record listening as cute on him, and a pain and a nuisance in practice. (With all the little settings to adjust, the bits and bobs to move, the constant flipping, and dusting and putting away just so. Why not just push play on the computer and be done?)
But lately, I'm coming around. I won't pretend that I notice a huge difference in sound quality between digital and analog. It sounds good, and better louder, and that is as far as my knowledge takes me as of now.
But I will say that all the little extra care put into it actually seems to make the music experience richer. You have to be fully present to listen to a record. And that's a beautiful thing!
Or, because the world is better for food references, it's like the difference between enjoying a homemade meal, or ordering in those pizzas. Both are delicious, but I think that there is more satisfaction in the thing that requires care.
Or at least that's how I see it.
It's a new thrill. And it's fun to find a new love that we can share.

 
*Because, please, Barbra Streisand is awesome. Kent and I recently discussed that if we could have any person's singing ability in the whole world ever, that he would choose Freddy Mercury and I would choose my Barbra. This always makes me laugh to think about, because if that actually happened we would be the most hilariously over the top couple that ever sang Happy Birthday to their children.

Zimbags

So, maybe you have (or maybe you haven't) noticed that my author illustrations have been missing from my sidebar the last little while.
And upon further research, you've found that my etsy shop is altogether empty. Well I meant to tell you, I went ahead and put that on the back burner for the time being.
My plate after hours has been full (sometimes heaping) with creative pursuits, that keep me feeling challenged and in a way, whole.
One of which is Zimbags! See that cheerful little orange banner there?...on the right....there.
I've been spending a considerable amount of my time there.
It's an awesome non profit organization working to overcome extreme poverty in The Matabeleland region of Zimbabwe, by helping women earn sustainable incomes.
These women make beautiful handmade bags (or Zimbags as we call them), and then we sell them here in the states and send the profits back to them and their families.
I've been doing design and art direction for them for about a year now*, and it's been such a joy to work with these ladies. They are the funnest group of movers and shakers. They just get the job done. And they do it while working full time, getting MFAs, raising children, and loving on the women around them.
So, if your curious you should stop by Zimbags some time. Check out the blog and see all of the neat and exciting things that are happening around that little orange banner.

*Meg, is that right? How has it been a year?

Monday Again?

It's Monday, and it feels a little like this...

So lets all have a good chuckle. Lately, we've been laughing at:

Goats yelling like humans.

A Dad's list of laws (OT style).

Just about everything Justin Timberlake has done on Jimmy Fallon this week.

And Conan busting a coworker for his elitist espresso machine*.


*(If you are enjoying these with your small children or amish relatives, a fair warning, Conan drops a well timed swear word.)

There are just some things this mama can't do.

And there are some movies that I just don't watch. I've got a bad combo of being able to be totally immersed into a story and way too much empathy on hand. Stories about WW1, and the Holocaust are usually the worst offenders. But there was one I had forgotten about.
Dumbo.
Oh Dumbo, my mother heart absolutely breaks for you. It has always always been the saddest Disney movie, don't try and argue this point, I will refuse to listen.
But now that I'm a mom, and even more so now that Dumbo bears a striking resemblance to Oliver. (Not so much the big ears, but the big blue sad-smiling eyes, that gummy mouth, and quiet innocence) I just. can't. handle it!
Case in point: Greta is watching it in the other room. I refused to watch it with her, so I had my lunch in the kitchen. But just knowing it was on, and hearing the vague hum of Circus music, I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I completely lost my appetite and wasted 75% of my lunch.
To be clear, we do not own this movie. My kindly father has lent it to Greta, and unfortunately she is really enjoying herself. After all, she sees circus, funny mouse, and flying elephant.
But all I can see is bullying, gossiping, abandonment, and exploiting the young. I want to yell like I'm at a hockey game when those little cusses pick on Dumbo for his ears (Well, done Mrs. Jumbo on exacting punishment on their sorry behinds.) I want to say some strong words to those conniving female pachyderms, and I could (and do) fall to pieces when Dumbo visits his mom in solitary isolation.
(If you want to know if you are a human, just watch Mrs. Jumbo sing Baby Mine .)  I have cried three times while writing this post. So, a few things...
Moms! Watch out for this movie! Dad! Take this movie off of the premises!

Roomies

This week Oliver moved in with his sister.
Yesssssss!
When we planned Oliver's life for him, before he was born, we had him out of our room in one month, just like Greta did. But of course those golden plans are really only made so that you can have a rich laugh at them afterward. He was in our room for 10 months!
We had our fingers crossed the first night. Is Greta going to wake him/us up at night howling for a cup of water like she did the night before? Will Oliver wake up at 6:00am hungry and totally destroy Greta's sleep for the day?
Well, it's been two days, and neither of those scenarios have happened so far.
Like so many transitions we hem and haw over, this one has been surprisingly smooth!
The first night Oliver cried a little, and Greta sang him her favorite lullaby in bed with the lights off. (Including the little monologue before it.) My heart grew a little too tight for my chest, it was adorable.
And as much as Kent and I needed a room of our own, like grown ups, I think this arrangement is going to be best for Greta. To be concerned for someone else first, before herself, is going to be so good for her to grow in. For example, she is usually very particular about her bedtime "settings".  Like which night light to use at night (globe? princess light? hallway light?) but on that first night when she noticed that Oliver wasn't used to it, and that it would help him sleep better having no night light at all, she decided in favor of turning them all off.
I love seeing that, and I am hoping that this will be a good experience for both of them. Hey, I know I'm happy!

Oliver: Fast Facts

-Age: 9 months
-Teeth: 2
-Newest nickname: Man Cub (He's a growler!)
-Latest triumphs: He started standing on his own this week! Look mom, no hands! And he learned how to give high fives.
-Prefers: To feed himself with finger foods. (I will not be condescended to with that mush on a spoon, thank you very much.)
-Favorite food: Shredded cheese, and Mushroom risotto.
-Favorite Toy: Greta's kitchen ladle
-Sweetest thing: When he pats my back, while I'm patting his back.

Sweet Friday: Milton Milkshakes

It's Friday! And among the general excitement that comes with seeing the tip of the weekends nose, just around the corner. Today is the day I treat myself to something sweet!
And lately, in our house, when the kiddies go to bed it's time for Milton Milkshakes.

Who's Milton? I don't know, but he makes a damn good milkshake, and I am forever indebted to you kind sir.
Kent and I remember these from a small little coffee shop called The Drowsy Poet, that we used to frequent in college. I had totally forgotten about their existence until recently, when I found out that Kent knows the secret to the recipe!
It's a bit of this and a dash of that, but here's the gist.

Ingredients:
-Espresso
-Vanilla Ice Cream
-Hazelnut syrup
-Chocolate syrup
-Malibu (optional)
-Cinnamon 

Espresso. Brew this first. We've been doing about a shot and a half per person. You could use strong coffee if you want, and in that case, you should have about 2 ounces for each person. 
Glasses. To make it as easy as you can, use the same size glass for everyone.
Vanilla ice cream. Scoop some into one of the glasses until you can push each scoop down as you go and you've got enough for it to just peek over the top of the glass. Then add one more scoop (it'll collapse a little when you blend it). Do that times however many people you're serving. Into the blender. 
Chocolate syrup. The idea here is not to make chocolate flavored milkshakes, but to add some depth to the coffee flavor. Put one nickel sized dot of syrup for each person. 
Hazelnut syrup. One glug for each person. That's maybe... a teaspoon? 
Coconut (extract, Malibu, whatever). If you have some, a little splash is fun. If not, cool.  
Blending. Dump the espresso on top, then blend the whole thing.
 
Pour it in evenly (unless someone has bribed you well enough not to), dash some cinnamon on top, and then slurp it down like it's Friday!


Some of our other favorire household recipes:
Chocolate Guinness Cake,  Lemonade, Vegan Cupcakes, Play dough, tortillas!