Recently in And then he called me Mama Category

I was at the library the other day multitasking.
Because that's what libraries are for, right?

Writing recipes, looking for design inspiration while simultaneously reading TITANIC TRUCKS to the boy running through the stacked aisles. I was beginning to think that a vacation might be something to consider when all of the sudden books started screaming and jumping off the shelves -- dangerously missing my head... I grabbed Will and dove under the nearest table. The piles of books surrounded us as one manuscript fell open at my knees... it was Poe, "I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity." It was then that I realized that something needed to be done immediately... Because I have reached the final point, and this is it. I am dangerously approaching the end of my blogging quota.

Visualize this to be like filling a water balloon to capacity or eating copious amounts of McDonald's like this guy did a few years ago... only to result in weight gain, heart disease, ulcers and bad skin.... because what did he think was going to happen? I wonder if he wishes that he could go back and undo -- kind of like going back and picking through - deleting the bad blog posts while copying and saving the good ones for republishing possibilities... revitalizing the QUOTA. But oh the HUMANITY.

I started For the Birds on August 22, 2008. It was a slow start... and, although I never intended for this blog to turn into what it is now... it has been a journey like no other... similar to swimming across the Atlantic or leaving the space shuttle mid-universe to test out that gravity theory... floating aimlessly into DEEP SPACE. And if you know what this blog is about, then you're a hair-slight more genius than I, because I lost track a LOOOONG time ago. But I am missing the point.

What I am trying to inch out there is that I am now starting the tedious task of going back, judging myself and then deciding who gets to stay and who gets to go hang out at the pearly gates of archival heaven. But what do you think? If you are here, reading this right now -- If you wouldn't mind turning time off for a few minutes and letting me know if there are any posts that must stay live... Because beyond self-inflicted torture, I am my own souvenir. And I'm sure that isn't the first time I've said that.   

I want to... Be understood...
Go to Reykjavik. Get my MFA. Drive a Mini like a NASCAR racer and then set it on fire. Talk the talk and walk the walk. Open a gallery. Win some money. Let it all go. Stop the hating. Know why he's crying. Cure things. Start it all over again. Dance. Know how to sit still. Go to the spa. Make it work. Wear flip flops. Have someone take care of it. Broaden our horizons. Go to Block Island. Be friends with Madonna. Cancel the Today Show. Plant tomatoes. Build the perfect playground. Be carefree. Host my own galleried show. Stop trying so hard. Bounce. Find the patience. Love all the sister wives. Take it all back. Move. Finish the house. Publish. Clean up the clutter. Find old friends. Quit Facebook. Bury the keys. Go kayaking. Bake wheat bread. Get the lawn furniture out. Speak. Build a following. Be the guy behind the guy. Hide. Just know. Filter. Damn the man. Buy new clothes. Wait it out. Sit in the sun. Make use of all 24 hours. Stop annoying myself.  

How are you?

I've been thinking about our conversation -- about how you think that Picasso wasn't really a bad guy, he just had commitment issues, and I really have to disagree with your juxtaposition on the Tiger Woods matter -- but you are entitled to your opinion. Is it at all possible that the Olympics have gone to your well frosted head? Too much up close and personal?  Or are you just intimidated by Z-Germans? Because although they are undeniably günter höhne, I suspect they might be all talk and no show. But that's just me.

You know what else IS me? Closing one company and opening another in a span of three weeks... with a 2 year old sitting on my lap, while I design logos with one eye and bake dairy and egg free chocolate cupcakes with the other. Literally. And, as I look out the window I see glops of white starting to mix in with the monsoon. With one office half moved out and the other half moved in and décor resources beginning to haunt. Because Martha I am not, and I'm kinda happy about that. But what about you, Cupcake?

Enough about me. Let's talk about you.

How was your trip to Egypt and your journey to the center of the earth? Was it anything like the movie? And what did you and The Queen talk about? Did you dazzle her with your experience as Gordon Sumner's Sommelier... The Peace keeping battle where you carried Bono to the sidelines in what you panicked to be near death--only to realize that it was nothing but a drunken stupor? Or did you just go on and on about America's Next Top Model like you usually do? You really should allow yourself to take credit for all that you have accomplished... I mean you are only 20 minutes old -- and I know this is just touching on half of the story.

There was the time that Lloyd Dobler stood in the rain in anguish over his broken heart... gripping his pen? One can only assume. But, dear Cupcake, the point of my letter is getting lost in the fodder of "where are we now"? Because to come full circle would require more than a burning flag, James Joyce and the Easter Bunny. No. We need something much stronger and more organized... Something to inject life into the icing on top... Something with promise and compassion... Something for completion... with texture. Beyond all cause, and hold off the guard...before I start to make sense... Because, we need sprinkles.   

It means so many things.

Just tonight, for instance, a dear friend recommended this topic... 20 minutes later and just 5 minutes shy of bedtime, Will ran naked and free through the house like a wild child... Only to face the consequences of such freedom by projectile rocketing his dinner all over the house. He's fine now.... and if I weren't so responsible sitting here with the baby monitor strapped to my head as he sleeps... I might like to throw caution to the wind, taking a glance at the martini glasses..  But no...I'll only feel Plowed later. It parallels to the ad I just placed in the paper yesterday for a part time Childcare/Personal Assistant position... I thought Personal Assistant sounded so much more fun and exciting than "Mother's Helper"... Well - sexy sells because today I had a HUMONGOUS response... humongous being the WORD OF THE DAY.. ringing in my ears. People need work, huh?... kidding. I really just want some overachieving high school kid to play with my son for an hour and then pick up my mail while I work. Because... Yes, before I get Plowed, the work is starting again.

But can you imagine being the snow? Seeing this winter in the forecast and thinking (because we all know snow thinks) This is it! This is the winter that I am going to fall from the sky and do my mighty snow dance all over planet earth... only to fall, settle in a bit, and be unsuspectingly PLOWED... after all that hard work and build up..  It isn't unlike quicksand if you think about it... I mean, what CAN YOU DO? I know snow. My husband owns a plow and PLOWS SNOW... I've been PLOWING... Not so much fun, to tell you the truth... Snow. I've lived in heaps of it throughout many locations and times in my life and this winter has been eternal.. Plowing us under... I can pick snow up and tell you what kind it is... what wine to drink with it... what heel to wear. It's a gift, I know... but I'm getting off track.

This winter, my friends, is the retribution for all of our plowing. While the weather people of the world unite and try to scare the daylights out of us before a flake falls... The snow this year has taken heed. It isn't unlike anything else in life that can't be predicted.. leaving us with our feet stuck in a mess of something frozen, cold and extremely uncomfortable.. I'm spent. Who wants to get plowed?

I wore the Brooch yesterday.

I wore it in the car...

You want to see how my brain feels this week? You should take a look at this rattle over at Small for Big. With a brain that squirrelly, this week's picks are more feel good than ever. When I was a kid I used to say "Simple pleasures for complex minds, we need the break". Yeah, I was a nerd, you hadn't guessed that yet? With the weird prose I write? Regardles, let's focus on visually lovely things that might help my mind rest a bit. Feel free to buy any one of these and send it to me pronto. I'd love you forever.

1. Roost Nairobi Stool, Velocity Art & Design $150
2. Offshore Convertible Top, Free People $48
3. Silver Deer Necklace, Retro Skor, $16.99
4. Built by NYC Shoulder Bag - Girard Collection, Swiss Knife Shop $69.99
5. Woodland Owl Wing Headband, Sleepy King, $16
6. Ry's addition to this week's Random Five -- because we are on complex patterns and she loves to shop for her niece, (slightly obsessed with little girl clothes because she has a bruiser of a boy two year old) -- Check out a new FTB Twitter Follower VYSSAN LULL's Retro Dress Orange by Strömming, $62:

Okay. So today is Wednesday January 27, 2010. I know I ranted a few days ago about things all changing at once but this is ridiculous although I'm feeling less stressed because I think its finally sunk  into my stubborn-never-do-anything-different-or-modify-things-in-an-way-shape-or-form head that nothing is the same, and that's okay. Can anyone out there tell me if something has caused this? Some MOON thing or the tides - or is this the year of the chicken or duck or something? Because it seems like a lifetime ago that things were normal and it's only been a few weeks. And if I could just get an hour at the keyboard to myself then I might be able to retain my sanity because there are four days left in this FORSAKEN MONTH and what else could possibly happen? Because I knew that things would change... but all in a span of four weeks? Here is the run down and I apologize for the repetition:

1. I stopped eating dairy and eggs. I thought I'd try this because Will can't eat dairy or eggs and I wanted to see what would happen. Well, its not that bad, but with the unexpected super fast loss of 5 pounds, one has to worry about what I've done to my body thus far AND none of my clothes fit me -- I'm wearing a bag right now... with a nice belt.
2. The 5 pound loss could also be attributed to the change in dinner routine where we actually sit down by FIVE THIRTY PM as a family to eat instead of waiting for Will to go to bed and then make dinner by  - oh 10:00.
   
3. We started working on THE HOUSE. Which is great but now I'm obsessed with decor and finding it hard to concentrate on most other things including WORK.
   
4. Not concentrating on work is okay since I am a killer procrastinator and started another blog AND was just relieved of my office lease-- which I had another 6 months on. So now I can run free through the meadow in my bag and nice belt, finally CLOSE THE COMPANY and become an Independent Creative Consultant (again).
   
5. Closing the company is actually a huge relief because its been the bane of my existence since co-founding it with that boob half-wit of an ex-business partner. Then there were those people at that magazine which made life just so unnecessarily annoying. Then there were all those other clients that couldn't/wouldn't pay for requested work and others that stole design ideas and found cheaper firms to produce. And then let us not forget the disgruntled employees, disappearing programmers and the freelancers that borrowed things from the office. I did, however, have the opportunity to work on amazing projects with a few amazing people -- but once the economy stopped cooperating and throwing money at us, the daily stress of operation was overwhelming.
   
6. Being an Independent (again) is also a good thing because the nap that moved from the morning to afternoon two weeks ago is now OVER. As I just now say "go lay down" again to the head peeking around the corner as I type this as fast as possible. Because this morning he jumped out of his crib at 6 am. It scared all of us but I got him to lay down again -- only to have him acrobatically leap out again with the grace of a gazelle and land on his feet less than five minutes later. And, after modifying his crib so that he won't break his neck, nap time has turned into a game of "see how many times Mom will tell me to go lay down before she admits that this isn't working and the nap is over". Bedtime will be interesting.
7. I suppose this game of not napping isn't as bad as the DON'T SAY THAT game where he says "f'ing idiot" and I say "DON'T say that" which only results in him saying it like 18 more times with a huge smile on his face. I'm so looking forward to him starting preschool next week so that he can play this with a complete stranger that won't judge me AT ALL. Then there's the whole potty thing which he decided he wanted to try. Damn this PARENT THING IS HARD. And now he's in the hallway rocking chair singing it with pride.

So, given that there are four more days of January, and my sanity is being held up by a thin strand of the ability to laugh at myself in humbling situations. I can only look forward to February where the seas will part, money floweth free and the sanctity of WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN NEXT will remain a game  of "Go Lay Down". Right?

While folding laundry last night, in my pajamas at 7:30pm, the phone rang - it was Amy's Carpet Cleaners wanting to know if they could come over and steam my carpets...

Ordinarily my response would have cut them off at hello and snapped "TAKE ME OFF YOUR CALLER LIST" but I wasn't feeling quite like myself so I listened to his shpeal and then politely said, thank you but we don't have any carpets. He said oh, okay thanks good bye. I felt a little dizzy and hung up the phone when an overwhelming sense of calm poured over me. Almost like none of it matters anyway so why are you so stressed out? And then it hit me -- that wasn't the Amy's Carpet Guy - that was REALITY calling. The Amy's Carpet Guy was really a supreme being that felt my vibrations of WHY IS THIS ALL HAPPENING AT THE SAME TIME and decided to soar in before possible disaster. Because aside from all things career not happening -- everything else is. Since New Year's day a mountain of STUFF found our little lives and thought - hey, yeah, cool. And of course, most of it we've done to ourselves - the house, the blogs, the diet changes, the routine change of eating dinner with Will at 5:30 instead of boozing until 10 and ordering pizza.. well, not quite boozing -- but do you know how fast time flies between 6 & 10 PM? For the first 2 years of Will's life we've been so happy that he goes to bed successfully by 7:30 that we've partied like rock stars for a few hours after... But that isn't all. Will decided, with the event of the New Year, to stop napping in the mornings and, instead wait until after lunch... which is totally fine except that now I have to get everything done errand and house wise with him before noon -- which means that I have to go out. Which means that PEOPLE WILL SEE ME in the morning... which means that now I have to think about that the pile of clothes on my closet floor first thing in the morning instead of around lunch time.

But I can't even go into the torture of what does this all MEAN?!?! Not to mention that the word "shpeal" is in the Urban Dictionary and is defined - someone's repeated talk jabber. mainly BS.... Which insists that the Amy's Carpet Guy was just some guy at a phone center trying to make an extra buck since cigarettes apparently cost $9.00 a pack. And then there's real life out there making me feel bad every time I look up - whining about routine changes and dirty clothes when real disasters ARE REALLY HAPPENING and all I want to do is watch the Food Network so thank goodness Bobby Flay decided to kick some ass and put it back on Cablevision. Can you imagine how mad he gets?

In short, because you know this has to end eventually, the earth might be on this whole rotation thing around the sun because it's used to spinning on an axis in the atmosphere... but just wait until it decides to start bouncing up and down instead... because it just MIGHT.

So...while I was busy planning our spring garden, taking on a huge house renovation, designing a logo for a new Southampton shopping center, chasing after the two year old, buying dog food, making dinner, doing laundry and hiding from reality -- I finally took the initiative and started another blog. Because, you know - I needed something else to keep myself busy. I needed just ONE MORE THING to over complicate the fact that all of my clothes are on my closet floor - and I don't care. One more task to add to the list -- right next to finding my inner light and saving the world. You know...

Because here's the thing. I can't stop.

http://willskitchen.com

Well... we realized last Monday that it was January and that we haven't been on a vacation in over 3 years. Yes. 3 years... So, without hesitation and/or thought, we decided to leave the kid to fend for himself and went here:

Just kidding. We could never get through security without the kid.

Again, just kidding.
And I know - NOT FUNNY. But thank you for asking... especially my Twitter friends that cuddled me through our ordeal. Because... you see, we didn't go there. Oh no. We did not. Instead, we went here:

Where there was this:

And this is just a teaser because I just returned and my mind is still numb from the experience. Jealous much? I think SO!