clickmom

how I know things are going to be just fine

My therapist was too sick from allergies to hypnotize me today.

They still don't have the kind of paper I want for printing class at the not so local but I drove the 20 minutes to get there anyway art store.

I bought out whole foods in preparation for a national swine flu related quarantine.

The hardware didn't have the kind of scrub brush I want for my solar prints.

Evan came home with a less than stellar report card today.

Then I had to drag him to religious school.

Josh jammed (I hope, I hope, please don't be broken!) his thumb real bad.  It's totally swollen.  If it's purple when he wakes up I'll see if I can get him an appt. with an orthopedist and miss my appointment with Bubbles.

Oh yeah, Bubbles is moving to California.

And then I was following the ice cream truck down the road.  He slowed down to let me pass, so I asked him to follow me home.  He obliged.  I opened the front door and screamed ICE CREAM TRUCK and all three of my boys got ice cream.  Summer is here!  

the party

I happen to know that one of neighbors has a bomb shelter below her house.  I kind of want to buy canned goods grab the family and hide us all in there until this whole swine fu thing blows over.  I'm kind of scared about it.

Also, did you hear about the low flying plane over Manhattan today?  If I had been there I would have for sure fear induced peed in my pants, which I have personal experience in.  Once, back in the early 80's when Chinese gang wars were all heated up, I was walking through China town with a friend and we were discussing the gang wars, and 4 cop cars came roaring down the street we were on from both directions, screeched to a halt in front of us, pulled out their guns, ran directly into a building on the opposite side of the street (while the friend and I huddled in a doorway on our side of the narrow China town street), and then the cops dragged out a young gang guy, stuffed him into one of the cop cars and sped right away.  When it was all done, a mere eternity heart attack minute and half later, somehow my jeans were soaking wet.  It was an embarrassing subway ride home.

Speaking of embarrassing, tonight there was a preview on the tv which asked what you would do if you knew you only had hours to live.  Josh said he figured Evan would kill him, and I said "Nooooo!" so I asked Evan and he said "I'd have sex with everyone I saw" which was creepy since it was 9 o'clock tonight and he was in the house with me, Josh and Matt, but I figured Evan imagined his last hours taking place in the hormone cess pool some call middle school, and some of those 6th grade girls are totally women already, but in any case, there goes any thought of me ever babying my baby Evan again.  I guess it's about time I think of him as the manly man he was born as.  Maybe I can fixate on keeping Josh young for a while.

Here is a shot of my manly man Evan yesterday at his surprise paint ball birthday party that wasn't 100% a surprise since one of his brilliant buddies asked him "What kind of gift would you like if someone as throwing you a surprise paint ball party?' last week.

There was smidge of father son bonding going on.

Matt and I opted out of the faux violence and we got to wear beautiful neon yellow vests and face masks when we were near the field.  It was hot. The husband got shot during the first round and he was very proud how he took one right in the forehead.

There was a tree decorated with blue bottles.  I wondered about it.  Then a guy from the place told me something about Weird NJ magazine and a guy from Virginia who said that the blue bottles trap evil demons in them.  I'm not sure why you'd want a tree full of trapped evil demons in a place where other people are pretending to kill each other with paint that is actually colored fish oil.  These were slipperiest woods ever!

And if you look closely that is a deer skull in the lower left corner.  Go bones!

As usual I confused the size of a whole sheet cake with half of a sheet cake and ordered way too much cake.  But you know, it was a good cake, (they told me) and I like to please the crowd.  Plus, I was sending home large chunks of cake with anyone who take some.

If the cake looks odd that's because Evan thought it would be funny to blow out his candles with a super soaker.  Hahahaha Evan!  We all loved that joke!  NOT.  I re-lit the candles and made Evan pose with his cake, but what you can't see is the stoolie kid's adorable three year old brother blowing the candles out from the side.  I gave him a big piece.

Holy cow! Evan is 12.

Evan turned 12 on Thursday.  

For some reason I can deal much easier with Matt's birthday and Josh's birthday.  Sometimes I wonder if it is because Evan was so very difficult to conceive.  Well, actually I had no problem conceiving babies when I wanted have a second child, it was losing them that was my issue.  I call Evan my miracle baby.

Maybe it's because Matt is forging new ground and that is exciting, and Josh growing up means I can reclaim time for my own, but Evan getting older doesn't really have any thrill factor or life recouping benefit for me.   I want Evan to shrink back down just a little, or maybe a lot, just for 24 hours here and there so I can pop him into his old sling and I carry him around and smell his downy soft baby hair and gaze into his huge brown eyes and keep him close and know that even if I think about something else for a minute or two he is right next to my heart safe and sound.  And that would feel very good.

Or maybe it's because Evan came into this world totally like a grown up serious guy in adorable packaging and no matter which cutesy little outfit I put on him he was still this very grown up little kid who wanted have an in depth conversation with you and talk about something relevant and got pissed off when you or anyone else told him he was just simply darling and visually appealing, because he just wanted to be appreciated for his superior intellect and deep thinking abilities and not for his dashing good looks.

goodbye Flat Stanley

Josh's class is doing a Flat Stanley lesson.  Flat Stanley is a boy who was flattened and sent to California in an envelope for a little adventure.  The kids read the book and then each decorated their own Flat Stanley and mailed them off to someone who was instructed to photograph FS and send back the photos with a little story about FS's adventures.

Josh sent his FS to his aunt (my step-sister) in CA and she has been very generous with the FS photos.  The most recent set of photos were of FS at some kind of performance art dig.  Step sister even made it seem like FS had a little accident and assured Josh that she had bandaged FS's hand and be was recovering nicely.  It was all very cute.

And then the emails stopped.  

My step-sis called me today to confess.  After the hole was filled in step-sis and the other artists searched and searched for FS to no avail.  They think he may have been buried alive.  Which to me puts a whole different spin on their hole digging experience, burying an innocent children's book character and all.  My step-sis admitted that she had blown up an image of FS from one of her photos and was planning on using the photo of FS in lieu of the real one but was afraid that Josh might get suspicious.

I can't wait to tell Joshs's teacher.  She looks like she needs a laugh.

enlightened

All of my kids are kind of freakishly mature for their age.  And sometimes not.  Today 8 year old Josh told me he had been reading a book at school about the 17th and 18th presidents. Being a complete failure in social studies I responded "Oh yeah?  Who was that?" to which Josh promptly replied "Andrew Jackson and Useless S. Grant."

no discretion

I'm sifting through the last 4 years of landscape looking for some more shots that might work with my new exciting printing technique, (get up and boogie!!)  and I remembered that this winter I was going to write a humorous post about how the dog always seems to mess up a good shot.   She doesn't seem to understand that she needs to stand behind me at all times.  Like this day when we were having an otherwise perfectly pleasant time wandering around on the frozen tundra that is the lake at utopia.

Sometimes, when the tundra hasn't frozen yet the devil tries to drink my subject.

The devil has even been known to leap like the goodnight counting sheep right over my subject.

The hills are alive with the sounds of barking.

still dancing

I met my editor at the local public gardens this morning for some early AM shooting.  I got a few more shots that I think might translate well to my new printing technique!  Still excited!

I tried to find a video of a chubby chick leaping and jumping but the honest truth is that I am a completely lame searcher, so here are some trim thrill seeking kind of guys leaping over angry bulls instead.

the sound of his voice

Last night in my dream I heard my dad greet me.  I know for sure he said three words, maybe "Hi there, Amy" or maybe something else, but in any case my dreaming came to a screeching halt and I luxuriated in the sound of his voice for a while.  I was able to dream rewind and re-hear his greeting a few times and the effect was like showering in a soothing scented waterfall.  And then I was dream sad because I knew I wasn't going to hear his voice ever again and I tried to think if there was any way I could some how hold on to Dad's voice and the safe and secure way it makes me feel for longer.

I look like this today

I've been doing the one legged happy wiggle for 24 hours now.  

I met a photographer last December who used an etching technique to show (I can't say "print" because the photos aren't printed in the traditional sense) her work.  I took one look at this ladies work and went crazy for it.  SHe told me to take a class to learn this procedure and I immediately called the place she recommended to sign myself up.  Only one bad thing ... the class didn't start until the last week in March!  Yesterday was our fourth class and I finally got to make my own start to finish looking good images.  I floated home on a cloud.  I woke up on a cloud and I limped on that very same cloud all day long.

This is still how I feel.

Seriously!

I'm thinking of maybe (when I get things rolling in this arena) of opening an etsy account.  I just want to keep on going with this procedure.

I was so excited that I stopped by the office to pay an in person visit to my editor today and the women who work in y office all gathered around and Oooohed and Aaaaaahed over my two tiny little print samples.  I love working with women.  The head honcho editor came over to see what was going on and 

Sorry I'm not showing them to you, but I want to get it all just right before going public.  In the mean time wiggle shake it jiggle.

P.S. In my dreams THIS is how I sing.

you can ask

Go ahead, ask me.  "How is your ankle spaz?"  Well, funny you should ask.  

It sucks.  While all of the other bumps and bruises faded away within a week of the incident the ankle did not.  I ended up getting it x-rayed about a week after the incident but the thing is that I actually went to a place that I saw advertised on my local diner's disposable placemat.  tsk tsk tsk I know, I know.  

Once I got to the spots medicine place, it was like greeting the cast of Animal House 10 years later if they all had decided to go into sports medicine.  And they all were still partying the night before.  Otter took an x-ray and then Bluto told me that nothing was broken but he tried to pill push some prescription pain killers on me.  In the mean time, I went back a few times for ankle electric shock therapy and sonograms with the very thoughtful and kind Boon, but I am pretty sure that my own personal thrice daily ankle icing was what was doing the de-swelling trick. 

I couldn't go to animal house last week when the kids were off from school, and I thought that maybe despite the soft incredibly SOB excruciating when I touch it  painful blob of swollen mooshiness that is desperately clinging to the outside of my ankle that I could take a slow rambling amble with the devil today.  Not a good idea.  30 minutes into my stroll the blob of pain took on a hot stabbing heart beat of it's own.  It was a heart beat that clearly shouted "sit down and elevate me!"

Now I am considering going to see a real orthopedist.  I dunno know what to do.