What Helps You Sleep Better At Night?

I have a friend. And this friend happens to be an extremely renowned designer. She also happens to be brilliant. Fun. Great at parties. A world traveler. Tells incredible true stories. Funny as hell. A committed Christian woman, who makes great martinis, knows everything about design and fashion and can do a mean swing clap.

Basically, I think she’s perfect.

And this perfectly incredible friend of mine is expecting her first little offspring to arrive on my birthday. Yet another reason to love her. But since this mothering thing is new, more specifically this buying lots of mothering gear thing is new, she emailed me with a baby stuff buying question. And here it is.

Did you buy an organic crib mattress? I need to pick out a mattress and besides there being way too many to choose from, now I'm reading that getting one that is organic might be a better choice b/c of some of the chemicals used in normal ones. Am I starting to buy into some of the craziness, or did you do any research on this pre-Hurricane and find that there is some truth to the matter? Somehow we survived lead paint, flimsy carseats and playpens that have openings the size of a child's head - so perhaps I shouldn't worry about it...

The thing is, I can’t remember what the Hurricane sleeps on. I’m sure I thought about it at some point, but now I’m so fixated on him sleeping later than 6 a.m., that I can’t really focus on his sleeping accoutrements. Although, hm, if there is a mattress that helps the little buggers sleep until the sun comes up, well then I’ll immediately invest all of my considerable fortune…

But back to my favorite part.

Have we all gone crazy?

Are we body slamming ourselves to offer kids a world that is so safety padded, so harnessed for their protection, so choosy mothers choose organically delicious, that they’ll never know the joy of eating dirt, scraping knees, and licking things they shouldn’t. Things like French Fries. Or beer bottles. Or Fun Dip. Or sidewalks.

Or are these changes for the better?

Because, really, the world seems to have changed overnight. I mean, wasn’t it just a few years ago that we all rode in the back window of the car (squished up against that window space right above the backseats, the backseats that had no car seats or seatbelts anywhere to be found), while we stuck our tongues on the window and waved at the cars behind us. And, more relevantly, if you saw someone doing that today, wouldn’t you call the cops?

Would you get all sanctimommy on someone’s ass if you saw a kid sporting a leash? A kid left in a car? A kid not potty trained? A kid being rowdy in music class? Would you look down on a mom drinking at a playgroup? Is there such a thing as too much safety? Is McDonald’s the devil? And more importantly, should my friend buy an organic mattress?*

Discuss.

*I think the moral of this story is that my friends will no longer email me. Ever.

A Morning in Austin.

This morning I spent a few hours in Austin visiting the Padrino, who was in town with K and A and B. (Jenny was in town too, but my time there was too brief to track her down. Plus, she was romatic getawaying; and really, who wants to be around shiny, happy, romantic getawayers? Um, get a room, people.)

And, I must say, although I've been there countless times, I'm always thrilled by something new. Or several things.

Because Austin is a place like no other.

A place where hippie, meets yuppie, meets country, meets rock and roll, meets traditional, meets progressive, meets collegiate, meets fanatic, meets laid-back, meets latino, meets tex-mex, meets politics, meets creative, meets corporate, meets organic, meets queso.

I've been in and out of it my whole life. I've lived there twice as an adult, two different times in two different decades. My little sister grew up there. My family originated there. It's home. And it's obnoxious. And it's fantastic. And it's proud. And it's insecure. And it's amazing. And it's annoying. And it's wonderful, just wonderful.

And it's wonderful to see it for the first time with a few new friends.

K, B, SRV, A and the Padrino

And it's really fun to be there for the millionth time with family.

The Padrino and me.

The Gorey Details

A while ago Laurie* posted this fantastic quiz where you can determine which ghastly Edward Gorey death you will die.

You know, the tragic fates of The Gashlycrumb Tinies.

Honestly, I had forgotten about them. But since then, just as things happen, I’ve seen them everywhere. On a poster in Starbucks. At the Library. At the Village. On a random loud kid’s tshirt. People were talking about them in the grocery line at Whole Foods. At the bookstore. At the Hurricane’s hair cutting place.

Everywhere.

So when a friend asked if the HcQ and I wanted to go see them, I said sure. And it was really great. (If you live in Htown and can make it to the last performance this weekend, you should go.)

But much more importantly, I must know, Quesofarians, how will you kick it Edward Gorey style?


Me? I'm steering clear of rugs.

*I stole the lunchbox photo from the great Upside Up.

Thursday Things.

There's a lot and I mean a lot going on at the Casa right now. Too many things.

But for starters, and through a course of unexpected events, we are going to need to buy a new car. Fairly soon. Like maybe today. Well, maybe not that soon, but maybe.

So a friend asked me yesterday, "What would be your ideal car situation?"

My answer: No car.

My ideal situation is that I live somewhere, Park and Fifth would be fine, where you never ever need a car. Ever. Ever. Somewhere you can walk anywhere and everywhere and never have to drive a car again. The end. Amen.

"Really? You want to walk everywhere? Even with two bags of groceries, and the Hurricane, and all his stuff?"

Yes.

But that's silly in our current location. Because you can't walk anywhere and everywhere where we live. And even though I can walk to work, if I need to go anywhere else during the day, I must then walk back home to get a car to drive to wherever it is I need to go. No car is currently not an option.

So, we're looking. And I have no idea. And almost no opinion.

If you had to get a car, what kind would you get and why? Shoparound asked this same question recently. And I didn't answer, because I don't care. And now I have to. So what do you want? Your thoughts are very much needed and appreciated. In other words. Please. Help. Me.

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On another note, several people asked me about the desktop photo on my desktop. It is from Deviant Art, a place chock full of free art of all flavors. I like photography, abstract. But there's something for everyone on there, even scary people. The typewriter photo above is also from Deviant Art. So's this fantastic shot. I love this shot...

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Oh. And Design Mom is giving away Handsome Devil Press Valentine Cards today. Check it.

And a big shout out to all my Boos. Have a Happy Thursday.

And give me your car.

Viewpoints.

Vickie asked some of us to share some of our viewpoints.
Our front door viewpoints.
Here's what it looks like out of the front door of Casa con Queso.

And here's my viewpoint when I cook up something for the Queso.The Betty pajama and tennis shoe combo is my favorite and my best.


And here's my favorite view inside Casa con Queso.

The sandbucket helmet is for his protection.
As you can see by his right eye, he's all boy.

I took these photos this morning and they all look a little gray.
I think I need a better flash. Or some mad photoshop skills. Or a more colorful environment.

So what are some of your viewpoints?
You're all tagged.
You're it.

Open to New Ideas.

1 little boy + 1 giant left molar pushing though + 1 giant right molar pushing through + 2 earaches + 103 fever + 2 clueless parents =
4,873 massive fits of crying misery

Does anyone have any ideas, tips, remedies or drugs* to add to the equation?

*The drugs would be for me.

A Few Choice Words.

My dad got out of the hospital last night.

And I’m thinking, we live in an amazing time and space in history when someone can be extremely close to death on Saturday and released to go home on Wednesday. Amazing. A modern-day miracle. (I think now’s a great time to say thank you again for all your thoughts and prayers.)

And although no one, most especially my dad, would have chosen to go through what occurred over the last 100 hours; in this case, our choices are largely what got us here.

Love them or hate them, pro them or anti them, the thing is, we can’t escape these choice decisions. Because, as a result of our blessings, we’re completely surrounded by them.

Photo from Shutterstock.

And this abundance reality became especially obvious when I stepped into the Whole Foods headquarters mothership, a mile from my dad’s hospital bed. Because it’s really hard to describe the amounts of consuming choices anyone can stroll through and find themselves surrounded by there. I aimlessly popped in to grab a few quick lunch items and found myself in freaking food mecca. The fruit section alone is bigger than my house and my neighbor’s house combined with extra space for an additional family of four. I picked up a perfect batch of blueberries for us all to share and then went to a fancy meat bar section to get the HcQ a fancy beef plus organic equals love entrée. I cruised past the fish, barbecue, wine, cheese, chocolate, dairy, bakery, specialty cuisine and rhythm sections, plus about 17 other sections, complete with a variety of themed tasting piazzas that I can’t recall right now, and into the salad bar section where I grazed tiny scoops of pulled chicken, edemame, roasted tomatoes and organic pasta for our Hurricane. And honestly, by the time it was my turn, I was over it.

Like a child with too many toys, the many options were no longer interesting to me. I wanted simple, easy. I walked over to the pre-made, pre-wrapped cold sandwich section and picked up a turkey on wheat. Done.

As I distributed the comestibles, I tried to explain to those who spoke a language, what I’d just encountered. And I couldn’t. Or I didn’t. Or I didn’t care. I can’t remember. All I know is that I was overwhelmed by this single choice selection experience, it made me think of the thousands we all regularly have, face, get, and ignore each day. In our world of plenty, we have so many options of curried summer squash soup here, or roasted duck with the mango salsa there, it’s sometimes just easier to settle for easy, for good enough, for cold soggy turkey.

Not to swim too far to the deep end here, but it seems I’m noticing my blessings lately. And I’m looking forward to celebrating them. Instead of being overwhelmed, or annoyed, or exhausted by the options, I’m going to attempt to seek them out, recognize them, and celebrate them.

Because I think I’m tired of cold soggy turkey. And I think I’m going to like looking out for that organic radicchio and spinach salad with grapes, walnuts and blue cheese around the corner. Because that’s the new pink. At least for me. And I hope it lasts.

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On a completely different note, today's the last day to enter Mark's coloring contest. It goes like this, Mark's upstairs neighbors (the guls) try to steal all the space in the garage, and he's not settling for that kind of cold turkey anymore. So he's created the Dirty Uncle Mark remedial guide to parking for them.And this was the inspiration for the first ever DUM coloring contest complete with great prizes. Check it out.

Oh Happy Day!

Hooorrayyy! My dad is out of ICU!

It's snowing outside, but he's warm and cozy in his own room with a great view. A great, not ICU view! Thanks to all of you for all your words, encouragement, thoughts, prayers, all of it. I'm passing it all on to my family, and we're thankful for all the goodwill and good tidings. Thanks. And even though he has a ways to go, we're already celebrating the progress. And since I personally think that lemons are the happiest of all the fruit flavors, I'm celebrating the happy with lemons. So here's to a continued easy peasy lemon squeezy recovery for Pops!

Expect the Unexpected.

This weekend, we were looking forward to spending some low-key quality time with my sister-in-law, who was braving the freezing weather to visit us. It was early Saturday morning, and I expected any minute I’d hear from her to say she had started the five-hour drive this way.

But the phone rang with different news.

A very close family member had a very close call, and my entire family was at the hospital.

Time stopped.

No one was exactly sure what was happening or what would next. The HcQ was at the gym, his sister was on her way, we were hours away from the emergency room, and everything had just changed with one phone call. I immediately started packing.

Thirty minutes later, we were on the road. However, because there was talk of a life-flight city change, we didn’t know exactly where we were going. My brother was calling every 30 minutes with updates. I was scared, the HcQ was safely driving like Andretti, and the Hurricane was blissfully asleep in the back. We connected with my wonderful sister-in-law to cancel the visit, and she went online for us to find the closest hotel to the new hospital. We heard updates of potentials. Potential surgeries, potential causes, potential outcomes. But no one really knew.

When we arrived, my mom (who is beyond amazing in any crisis), my brother and SIL, and the Cambridgians (who happened to be in town), updated us on everything that had gone down. They were all shaken (from witnessing a couple of code blues) but hopeful. And throughout the next few hours, thankfully, the hope turned into relief.

We’re still not exactly sure about the specifics that got us here. And we’re still not out of the woods. But things are better. Much better.

So last night, I was thinking about how I'm always extremely surprised when I land in an unexpected place. An entirely new place. A place I couldn't really have understood or appreciated before. Because even if I can comprehend the idea of it or the potential for it, I can never really know what it will be like to experience it, to live it, to feel it.

And it’s amazing to think, especially on a day like today, how so very often it can take years for our perspectives to change. And then sometimes it happens in an instant.

Things do not change; we change. ~Henry David Thoreau

Books are Fun. To Throw.

Photo from Shutterstock.

First of all, thanks to all of you who visited in this week and especially to all of you who delurked. You're all winners. But especially one of you. Keep reading.

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If you've ever been to our house, you know that it's filled with books. Every room has giant bookshelves chock full of them, including a floor to ceiling number (with a cool library ladder) that takes up an entire wall in our bedroom.

And it's true that all these shelves became even more crowded when I discovered I was pregnant with the Hurricane. Because I immediately ran out and purchased piles of baby info lit in order to understand why heartburn was taking over my body. And for other things too. Probably. But as it turned out, even though I was way too exhausted to do anything productive, I found countless hours to read about which part of his spine was forming, how his eyebrows were lining up, why he kicked more at night, why I was turning into a mean lady. All of it.

Because I needed information.

I was craving it more than mac and cheese with mayo and peanut butter mixed in. And while I loved the books, even the bad ones, some of my favorite informational treats were those weekly progress emails that came to my work email address. They served as a gentle reminder in the midst of meeting requests, copy changes, event updates, et. all, that I was growing a person.

The thing is, I still get these weekly developmental updates. And what used to be my favorite e-read of the day, now gets deleted faster than Prozac ads. Because I might need Prozac. And also because the older he gets, the lamer the updates get. Something that used to be brimming with fascinating tidbits and trivia now reads a lot like this:

“Hey you, person with the 15 month and two week old person, your kid is probably doing some general things, maybe, and he’s potentially and likely not doing some other things, but then he does do some other things, so don’t forget about those things. And all babies develop differently anyway, so he may not be doing some things and some other things that other people his age are doing extremely well and often. But hey, more importantly, buy all these developmental toys, shoes and other things we offer here and here and here. If you do, then you’re a good parent. So stay classy.”

I’m not really sure why this encyclopedia of knowledge has slowly turned into a shopping channel of crap. Because it seems to me that there would be many more specifics to cover once he has emerged. Right? Well, apparently that’s not the case.

However, this last week, they actually mentioned a specific, suggesting that el Hurricane should be extremely interested in books. Which, of course, is so not the case. In fact, whenever I try to read to him, he waits approximately one second to grab the book out of my hand and throw it down. Because currently, as far as he’s concerned, books are for throwing, and really only good for throwing when you can’t find anything else remotely more interesting to hurl across the room. In fact, he firmly believes these book things should probably just be avoided all together because they are definitely the low men in the toy world behind well, um, everything.

However, apparently other babies across the universe are taking to them like candy. Because seventy eight percent of parents surveyed reported that their boy child is fascinated with books and often picks them up and pretends to read them. Right. Well, in our world, that has happened exactly, um, never. The Hurricane might have accidentally picked one up to throw it and destroy something. But that’s as close as we’ve gotten.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, he was sitting around on his little singing training potty, when he realized things weren't completely right. The potty was good and all, but it just seemed something was missing. He paused. Put a finger to his face cheek and thought.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.................

Then he got it.

He stood up, went over to his bookshelf, dusted some cobwebs off the never-before-used items. And behold...

We have ourselves a reader.

Um. Kind of.

Close enough. I'll take it.
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And so again, a big thanks to you readers for six months of quesotastic fun. This morning, the Hurricane drew Lisa V. Clark's name out of the sandbucket to win the Darlybird fab folio. So Lisa V. Clark, contact me at helloqueso at gmail dot com to claim your lovely Queso treat. Thanks to everyone for playing.

Happy reading to all and to all a happy weekend.

A Party, Some Conversation, and a Gift.

While I was reading the entire Internet last night, I discovered that it is National Delurking Week. A week when all people everywhere comment on blogs.

Not so into commenting on blogs?

Believe me, I understand. It's a slippery slope. But to help you help celebrate this incredibly important holiday (I think it's right up there with Talk Like a Pirate Day, which is HUGE around here), I've come up with some ideas for you. Plus, you could totally win something. (Keep reading.)

Don’t know what to say?

Do what Sweetney suggested. Reveal the best movie you saw in 2006. Or the best book you read. Or the best music you purchased. Or the best grand scheme you plotted. Or something.

Or, here’s another idea. The other day, Kim asked me to share six weird things about myself. I said, okay. Here’s my list.

Six weird things about me.
1. When I was little, I thought there was a good chance I could grow up to be a Martian.
2. I often concoct random and inaccurate stories to answer personal questions asked by strangers on planes.
3. Cats completely freak me out.
4. Frozen food sections at grocery stores make me sneeze.
5. I literally cannot say no to any kid selling something. So I sometimes do crazy things to avoid Girl Scouts.
6. I know the words to Elvis songs that I didn’t know existed (as proven by a stint in the ICU, when I was knocked out, borderline unconscious, yet singing the correct lyrics to random Elvis songs.) (My first concert: Elvis. I was 4.)

So, there you go. And by all means, feel free to share your favorite weird thing(s) about yourself. I mean if you can’t tell us, well then, who is it that cares? Really.

Still not interested?

Well, I just realized, I’ve been Quesoing now for six months. A six month celebration of cheese. And to thank you for lurking, reading, commenting, telling your friends and quesoing right along with me, I give you the chance to win some Darlybird.


Just comment with a name, any name, it doesn’t even have to be your own name, and the Hurricane will pick a random winner to win this dandy Stationery Folio from Darlybird. Celebrating six months of the writing, the comments, the smorgasbord, and the party that is the Queso.

Cheers.

*Photos from Shutterstock and Darlybird.

iLikey

A lot has been said today about Apple's new iPhone.
I only have two words to add.
Yes, please.

If It's Pink, I Drink.

A few years ago, my sister coined the phrase, “If it’s pink, I drink.” She means it. And it makes complete sense to me. Pink lemonade, cosmopolitans, watermelon margaritas. All of it. And honestly, I’ve never been able to think of one good reason not to drink any of those things, so I’ve also made it a policy to never refuse the pink drink; and in doing so, I’ve completely stolen the phrase for myself. After all, my sister lives 2000 miles away in Cambridge, and really, people in Cambridge don’t listen to what any of the rest of us say anyway.

However, when I said that January was completely pink, I wasn’t really thinking about my sister’s phrase. And I wasn’t thinking that I’d actually only be consuming pink for the next few days. But as it turns out, if it’s not pink, I currently won’t get near it.

I’m sure you’ve heard all the diet talk this week. In fact, there are some excellent online ‘new year, new you’ support groups that many fantastic people are leading and joining. They’re all good. But what’s buzzing in my world is the “cleansing” diet. Where you only drink pinky limey syrupy liquid for something like 27 days in order to “cleanse” your system of anything not pinky limey syrupy and/or liquid. Well, a few friends I know are doing this because the “cleansing” is so trendy that seemingly sane people everywhere are choosing to forgo their individual rooms and spend the night in the fantasy suite where there is NO FOOD FOR 27 DAYS!

At first, I couldn’t get my brain around it. But then one person at my office said she’d lost seven pounds in her first two days of “cleansing”. And that sounded pretty good. Then I started thinking, if you do this, then you don’t have to worry about cooking anything, you never have to concern yourself with what you’ll have for your next meal, you never have to dig around in your car for Taco Bell change, none of it. Because you just drink all this pink stuff all day long until you’re thoroughly, totally, and completely “cleansed”. Plus, it can’t be all that bad for you because the Whole Foods near my house has a whole big display on it. A giant colorful be-good-to-your-colon display with a looped-video playing on the flat-panel, high-def monitor. So it must be super healthy, right?

Well, I have no idea. Because there’s no way in heck I’ve even been able to think about any of this because I’ve caught a mild virus, and all I’ve wanted to consume for the last few days is Pepto. Pink Pepto. Pink Bismol.

Because I’m sick. And I’m sick of it. And my incredible HcQ is sick of it because he’s doing almost all the heavy lifting. Believe me, it’s annoying for all of us. The thing is, I’m only sick enough to where I’m nauseous every minute of the day (and sometimes puking), but mainly completely functional and nauseous. I was even pretty well able to fake not sick at an incredible Indian dinner last night that a friend’s incredible Indian parents made for a fun group. It was completely amazing. And I really couldn’t stomach any of it. And I swear to got, I’m not pregnant. I checked. I’m not. It's a stomach virus. So that means I should be eating solid foods again eventually. Hopefully. When I said 2007 was the year of pink, this is not what I had in mind.

*Above photo is the cover of Pink Drinks a great book that can be purchased many places including here.

Tickled.

I used to often say that January was the brown dress in the back of your closet month. That it represented this brownest, most boringest clothing item you owned because it was hands-down the most boringest month of the year. I'm pretty sure I even wrote about that when used to write a fashion column (Because, apparently, you can use words like boringest in fashion columns.) (And Ha! I used to write a fashion column. Super Zoe can you even beeelieve that?!) back in the day, before gum was invented.

But that was long before brown became the new black, and orange became the new brown, and pink became the new orange. So, really, when you think about it, by the laws of transverse property, the laws of boomerang trends, and the laws of the state, this clearly means that brown is the new pink. Which means, January is all about pink. And if you followed that, then you're completely drunk. Cheers.

And cheers again. Because it's 2007.

And just as fashion has changed a bit, I guess my mind has changed too. Because I no longer think January is Boring McBrown. I think it is fantastically pink. It's new. It's fresh. It's clean. It's basically like calling do-over in a game of Go Fish. You totally get to start over. If you want to. And in some ways, I think I do.

Like with my closet for instance. This is another post entirely, and so it will be. But it's a work in the works. Oh and I'm taking up green tea as a coffee replacement. Or at least a partial replacement. And for sure I'll be eating more oranges. And smiling more. Those aren't resolutions, per se. They're just things I'm thinking on and starting up again. Or starting over on. Or with. Or in. Or whatever. But the reality is, they're my new things. They're soooo 2007.

And so is pink. Because it seems there are a lot of new and fantastic pinks being born to some of my favorite pinks around here...like baby Lydia, baby Tate, and the anticipated (and sassy) baby Flossie and baby Smith. (Of course, baby Atticus and sweet new baby Finn are the exceptions, but seriously, someone has to date all these little girls!)

Oh and Liz/Mom101's new baby. In fact, she wrote about her little one here, and I thought her recount was so good, I nominated it for a Perfect Post. And it totally is.

New babies (and before you get too excited mom, let's be clear, there are no new baby announcements being made around here), new boots, new ideas, new goals, new possiblities. You have to admit, that's totally pink. And that's totally 2007.

Happy new year, people.

Photo credits include: Me, my closet. Okay, just kidding, Container Store dot com. And the great Wilder Design.