I am starting to love settling into my Saturday night ritual. For years we would be out until dawn partying on the weekends, hitting up concerts anywhere within 10 hours driving distance, working our press passes, VIP passes, partying on a level that hasn't been socially acceptable since Michael Alig and James St. James brought it back for a brief revival. Not bad for Tulsa. So it's been hard in all honesty for us to settle into domesticity, but I am getting there. Now Saturday nights mainly consist of a project or two w/ the three amigos, early dinner and baths, and then putting Stormageddon Dark Lord of All to bed and letting the boys check a little VHS action in Arthur's massive bunk/fortress while I hit up the Ion Psych marathon, wash and fold a dozen loads of laundry and tidy the house, and settle into a glass or two of wine and my hidden stash of Twizzlers. With hubs at week and the house quiet, vegging out and watching TV is just the ticket for my laundry-folding home-grown utopia.
Anyway, this Saturday I am particularly relaxed because our hours rolled over at work and I took a short little staycation (ahem...cleaning staycation, but whatevs) and don't go back until Tuesday. I've cleaned the hell out of everything, dyed my hair fish bowl blue, and organized the boys' closets to get them ready for school in a month. In a month I say!!! My little chicken nuggets are growing into full-fledged chicken wings!
Today's greatest triumph was pre-Christmassing. Hubatronic 1.0 is always perplexed by how parents pull together decent Xmases for their kids. The truth is that we all think the whole thing is just a massive commercialized clusterf*ck, but we want our kids to be happy and not be like those poor Waldorf kids who get tree branches and sh*t for Christmas (not that I am dissing Waldorf, just those extremist parents like the douchey hippies in Lilyhammer), so we go for a moderate lifestyle, which I've blogged about before. Plus, we're damned poor, primarily because I work as a teacher and I am my family's main financial supporter until I sell a screenplay or book or establish a super popular online publication. So anyway, we're poor.
But I like to have nice things and I like my kids to, and I am smart and also awesome, which is why Arthur got like 350 bucks worth of He-man toys for his birthday (thank you, Craigslist).
Here's how it works: Our family looks for things in good condition that our kids (and other people we plan on gifting) like ahead of time...way ahead of time. I keep a little list and it's important to know if someone's interests change or if it's something they are really, really into (like Arthur and Tim Burton films). Then we keep on the lookout for second hand items in good shape at thrift stores, flea markets, garage sales and online and get them months in advance and put them away for later. For example, Arthur has been asking for a Mermaid Barbie for ages. Today, I found him a Magical Mermaid Barbie which I will be stashing back for Christmas. She lights up and usually comes sold in a set that is available for $85 plus shipping all the way to $135. I got her for $1.50.
I also picked up a 1960 vintage Barbie Allan doll along with some other friends for the mermaid.
But that's not the coolest thing I got!
I picked up the following Generation 3 My Little Ponies:
Star Dasher
Summer Berry
Denim Blue
Golden Delicious
Precious Gem
Rainbow Flash
Lolligiggle
And I picked up a pink G4 pony, but I haven't looked her up yet. Anyway, all the ponies together were 4 bucks.
While there, I picked up my own cute Vera Bradley two-piece set. Yes, old ladies love them. But I've always had a little Grandma Bessie May Crow in me.
Anyway, that's the beginnings of some solid Christmas gifting. Reduce, reuse, recycle is nice on the pocketbook too.
7.7.12
13.6.12
I haven't blogged in a very long time, or at least, I haven't actually finished and subsequently published a post in a long time. A lot's happened. I started my own awesome wedding business, accidentally got into marketing and PR, and began building a national wedding web site. (tba)
And then my little brother, Jeff, became sick.
It started as a really scary car accident that we were grateful he survived. A few broken bones, a swollen leg, nothing too serious. Then the swollen leg required surgery, and he contracted a vancomycin-resistant infection in the hospital. We spent weeks taking turns with the kids going to visit him, taking him magazines, books. His condition was said to be improving, but the infection got into his bloodstream and then around his heart, and then he suddenly died.
There are a million things I could say, and for the past two weeks I've thought of them all. I could write something beautiful about how many amazing memories we had as kids, how our relationship became more complex, about all the things we overcame together, including, at the very end, how Justin and I worked with Jeff and his fiancee to get him away from the opiate dependence he had picked up after years of living with chronic pain, about how proud I was of him for getting his life together, about how he'd finally met someone who could keep him in line and how he had a plan for his life and was helping with his son so much. About the day I came home and found him playing T-ball in the front yard with Noah and Arthur, or the times he sat with me and talked about his hopes for his son, the times he suddenly appeared at my door with ice cold Mexican cokes (because they don't have high fructose corn syrup and they come in glass bottles), the times he brought paletas. Jeff was the only person on the planet, my husband included, who remembered my very peculiar likes and dislikes when it came to food: how I prefer coconuts and creams in paletas but preferred fruit desserts over chocolate in everything else, how I don't like cake that much but like tres leches because it's moist, how I love strawberries but don't really like strawberry ice cream or love watermelon flavored candy but not watermelons. I could write volumes about how volatile our relationship was and how deeply we loved each other and how Justin thinks the two were inextricable. How he was the only person I know besides Justin who I have always felt was intellectually my better, and how nearly every single night since he died I close my eyes and he wakes me up to tell me I am doing a good job and what he wanted with his funeral and with his son and keeping everyone together.
I want to write everything I can remember about him, every moment, every expression, every detail of him, so I never forget over the coming decades of my life I will have to live without him.
But I am not ready to write all that yet. I just want to say that there is no relationship in my life that will ever be like my relationship with my brother, and that my brother and I had a very deep powerful connection, which sometimes made us absolutely despise each other, but always loved each other, and that no one in my whole life, not even my husband, has bragged about me or adored me the way he did, and that my heart is broken for his little boy, who I pledged that I would care for no matter what, and that I want my children to love and care for each other with a sense of responsibility and true devotion the way I loved my brother.
I miss him so much, and I will probably miss him every day for the rest of my life. He was an incredible, often completely douchey, absolutely insane, hypersensitive, quirky, brokenhearted, brilliant, beautiful soul who left this earth too soon.
I miss you so much, Jeff.
And then my little brother, Jeff, became sick.
It started as a really scary car accident that we were grateful he survived. A few broken bones, a swollen leg, nothing too serious. Then the swollen leg required surgery, and he contracted a vancomycin-resistant infection in the hospital. We spent weeks taking turns with the kids going to visit him, taking him magazines, books. His condition was said to be improving, but the infection got into his bloodstream and then around his heart, and then he suddenly died.
There are a million things I could say, and for the past two weeks I've thought of them all. I could write something beautiful about how many amazing memories we had as kids, how our relationship became more complex, about all the things we overcame together, including, at the very end, how Justin and I worked with Jeff and his fiancee to get him away from the opiate dependence he had picked up after years of living with chronic pain, about how proud I was of him for getting his life together, about how he'd finally met someone who could keep him in line and how he had a plan for his life and was helping with his son so much. About the day I came home and found him playing T-ball in the front yard with Noah and Arthur, or the times he sat with me and talked about his hopes for his son, the times he suddenly appeared at my door with ice cold Mexican cokes (because they don't have high fructose corn syrup and they come in glass bottles), the times he brought paletas. Jeff was the only person on the planet, my husband included, who remembered my very peculiar likes and dislikes when it came to food: how I prefer coconuts and creams in paletas but preferred fruit desserts over chocolate in everything else, how I don't like cake that much but like tres leches because it's moist, how I love strawberries but don't really like strawberry ice cream or love watermelon flavored candy but not watermelons. I could write volumes about how volatile our relationship was and how deeply we loved each other and how Justin thinks the two were inextricable. How he was the only person I know besides Justin who I have always felt was intellectually my better, and how nearly every single night since he died I close my eyes and he wakes me up to tell me I am doing a good job and what he wanted with his funeral and with his son and keeping everyone together.
I want to write everything I can remember about him, every moment, every expression, every detail of him, so I never forget over the coming decades of my life I will have to live without him.
But I am not ready to write all that yet. I just want to say that there is no relationship in my life that will ever be like my relationship with my brother, and that my brother and I had a very deep powerful connection, which sometimes made us absolutely despise each other, but always loved each other, and that no one in my whole life, not even my husband, has bragged about me or adored me the way he did, and that my heart is broken for his little boy, who I pledged that I would care for no matter what, and that I want my children to love and care for each other with a sense of responsibility and true devotion the way I loved my brother.
I miss him so much, and I will probably miss him every day for the rest of my life. He was an incredible, often completely douchey, absolutely insane, hypersensitive, quirky, brokenhearted, brilliant, beautiful soul who left this earth too soon.
I miss you so much, Jeff.
14.5.12
EVOfest 2012
EvoFest is a pretty cool little festival put on by some locals based on the ideas of sustainability and bartering in a place where people can enjoy music. We made it out for a terrific set by Aaron Hale and the Human Beings. Here's a pic of Lucy enjoying the music on the lovely cool spring grass.
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13.5.12
holi
Apparently, being a working mom with one's own business and a part-time teacher while raising one's autistic/R.A.D. nephew, an often less well-behaved and insanely precocious other four-year-old, and an infant is a very busy line of work.
(That's me accounting for my lack of posting to my 20-some odd readers of friends, family and former students. Please do forgive and also forgive my acknowledging this in my blog which is apparently blogger taboo, although to be frank since this is a family blog and not a monetary blog I don't really see as it matters that much.)
Also, I am ashamed to say that since Picnik closed I've been far too lazy to edit my photos for the web. It's so sad and so true. Have Photoshop, can use Photoshop, have janky computer that runs like sh*t when Photoshop is open and little patience for remembering how to do the things I want to do in Photoshop. I know, so so so so so lazy.
Now to business.
What have the Owens been doing lately?
I've been wanting to check out Holi festival for ages, and the Indian Association of Greater Tulsa (IAGT) put on a heck of a party at Haikey Creek Park.
Holi is a festival of color. The point is, as the adorable Yorkshire Deven's adorable Indian mom explained, to celebrate the beginning of the farming season. Or something. She told me in India it gets crazy. It wasn't crazy, but it was fun. Bright colored powders were painted onto us by giggling little girls.
(That's me accounting for my lack of posting to my 20-some odd readers of friends, family and former students. Please do forgive and also forgive my acknowledging this in my blog which is apparently blogger taboo, although to be frank since this is a family blog and not a monetary blog I don't really see as it matters that much.)
Also, I am ashamed to say that since Picnik closed I've been far too lazy to edit my photos for the web. It's so sad and so true. Have Photoshop, can use Photoshop, have janky computer that runs like sh*t when Photoshop is open and little patience for remembering how to do the things I want to do in Photoshop. I know, so so so so so lazy.
Now to business.
What have the Owens been doing lately?
I've been wanting to check out Holi festival for ages, and the Indian Association of Greater Tulsa (IAGT) put on a heck of a party at Haikey Creek Park.
Holi is a festival of color. The point is, as the adorable Yorkshire Deven's adorable Indian mom explained, to celebrate the beginning of the farming season. Or something. She told me in India it gets crazy. It wasn't crazy, but it was fun. Bright colored powders were painted onto us by giggling little girls.
22.3.12
21.3.12
what the kids are up to
Lucy loves peek-a-boo.
Lucy's baby. She looooves her. Her name is Tiny Tina, and I recently found a bunch of my old jewelry from when I was in a kid hidden in her head. Seriously. It was nice to know she wasn't supposed to rattle like that.
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Lucy, rocking the cutest outfit on the planet, which unfortunately you can't see very well thanks to her car seat.
Arthur loves the gothy stuff. We were on a vintage loot quest and found this cemetery in the backyard of an estate sale...he had to have his picture taken.
Noah has the best smile ever!
Finally, Arthur got a pirate's treasure's worth of Masters of the Universe toys for his birthday. Even Lucy loves them!
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