Odds and Ends Much?

I think everyone should know that I was disappointed with what I saw of “Camp Rock”. I mean… it was no Cheetah Girls movie, let alone High School Musical. What’s the deal with the disparity in lip syncing performances? The kids are either over-performing (a la Jonas Brother who thinks it makes him authentic to have weird mouth contortions and full body shudders because the song is that intense) or have not been properly shown what to do with their hands or feet (a la Will Ferrel’s first interview in the Ballad of Ricky Bobby). Sweet Lord, it was annoying. To be fair, I didn’t watch the entire movie but… to be fair, I found the episode of Hannah Montana that followed to be much less annoying. …. You may be asking yourself why I was watching Disney Channel last night with my husband and aunt and Ezra wasn’t even in the room… *wanders off*

Anywho! I had some awesome dream wherein I realized everything I need to compose for the upcoming MacDowell and Fulbright applications. Both of which I promise only to speak of in the shallowest of terms. Mostly because… who are you people. But I digress. What is it with me and these dreams? You know I once had a dream where I wrote an entire book and absolutely loved it and told myself to remember it when I awoke only to realize upon waking that a) that doesn’t ensure memory collection and b) well, the book kinda made less sense than the second version of Planet of the Apes. Whoa and that one time I dreamt about being on the set of The Wonder Years and that if I left my fan letter to Fred Savage on the kitchen table, he’d get it in real life?? Despite the fact that by the time I was obsessed with it, there’s a good chance that it was not even being filmed anymore?? … Well, I guess the first point would be that I wasn’t really in the house. What? I got to it!

Le sigh… so … what’s up with you guys? Oh, nevermind. I have to go with my in-laws to see Wall-E.

 

We will, in fact, rock you.

Well, I couldn’t very well post about the opening day of Morrowpalooza without pictures, could I? And seeing as I’ve only gotten the ones taken by my father (leaving two people who shouldn’t bring a camera if they’re not going to upload the pictures!) …. we’re not even halfway done.

SO! Ezra’s birthday party was this past Saturday and, as you should know, the theme (chosen by his princeliness!) was Rock-Out. Incoming pictures!

There are a half million pictures yet to acquire - more of the pinata bust, the concert (including the crowd surfing), the cake song… now that my brain is no longer trying to keep it all in list form… I kinda can’t remember a lot of it.

Um… this is the worst post ever, aside from the pictures. But I’ll just keep writing. That’ll save it! Josh has about a month left of his UC Center in Sacramento summer, which also means we’re moving closer to Fulbright/grad school application deadlines! After a rocky beginning - feeling displaced by the back and forth to Santa Cruz - I’m calm and productive. Fun times, friends.

 

I’m here, I’m here. Settle down.

And I refused to get upset with the AT&T customer service phone-jockey. Because Jesus, that’s why. I just know I’ve disappointed my family and friends. In fact, I felt that had any of them been beside me they would have been excitedly anticipating the moment where I put the verbal smackdown on the guy. Increasingly more amped, they would have whispered, “here it comes, *giggle*, here it comes” and then dropped their shoulders in disappointment and confusion as my voice suddenly lost all aggression and I switched subjects. Even the guy on the phone seemed confused. I. Refuse. To argue with a stranger today. Sorry. Even though a feature I put on when I first ordered the phones was mysteriously taken off back in February and I’ve been paying by the text until I realized. Then, when he reverses the charges, which somehow don’t cover this month’s bill and are suddenly just $30 here and there? Not how I remember it… ANYWAY, when he reverses the charges, he starts out by telling me how I never had that feature but no biggie, here’s the favor he did for me and I was all, “mmmm, no mon frere, we don’t play that game”…. and that abruptly stopped and was like, “but you reversed it so the rest is moot at this point” and he got all silent ’cause he’d apparently been ready to puff out his chest and get the fight on. Why? I no know. I don’t know the guy. Ask him.

Anyway, other than that, I’ve just been working on me and Josh’s Fulbright apps for this year, his McGill app to go with, throwing my son’s Rock Out 4th B’day Party (this weekend) and living in a strange situation that puts Josh at my Dad’s house and Ezra and I all over the road… but mostly at Auntie’s. *Whew* But I’m getting stuff and junk done so. I feel like I should take pictures of the freakin’ awesome stuff I’ve been able to get for Ezzie’s big shindig but… you’ll no doubt see a buttload of pictures after this weekend. BUT I’M SO EXCITED ABOUT THE FREAKIN’ GUITAR PINATA I FOUND! It’s sweet, I’m not gonna lie. (And apparently, the dumbest dogs ever don’t think people are allowed to walk on the sidewalk in front of the house. Idiots.)

Sooo… now I’m off. To. Do. Stuff. (Too much to list, sorry, mes amis.) But here’s what the backstage passes will look like. Well. Ezzie’s, anyway.

 

L’hopital

I’m a bit fraggle-rock lately - ie since moving my hubby to my Dad’s house and my Ezzie and I being elsewhere and my commuting back and forth from SC and back - so I thought I’d come and comment later about the beautious and exciting wedding I attended this weekend. Or how after I’d gotten an awesome position that could only be improved upon because more money is always useful… now I get a call from the DA’s office. Totally forgot about that application. Since it’s been a year. But now that I’m here in the Emergency Room with Joshua - having inexplicably wanted to cry the whole drive to pick him up and no not because he’s a baby and I’m a protective mama… but kinda because when he hurts himself I wanna beat him… does that make sense? - where was I?

OKAY! So we’re here at the ER which is actually pretty tame. Like, my childhood/college memories of the ER were per-ty rank, mon frere. So, the only thing is that this woman is talking really loudly on the phone about some pretty skerry stuff, yo. Like this blog I found of a woman who called herself HOPE who basically kept a blog as a means of people finding her (turns out she was homeless and also CRAZ-TY!!%$!). So, funny story/true story: the woman who’s talking about how she’s not a criminal and that’s why she’s here and not in the big house? Well, as you probably guessed, she’s not talking on the phone! Nay, mon puce, nay. She, indeed, is talking to herself. Well. One of her selves. And that diatribe that was so animated the first time around? Turns out she’s running on a loop. No. Joke. I’ve heard crazy rants. But I have NEVER. NEVER. Heard one on Tivo. Yeeeeeeah. When it was our turn to go to window four, I mentioned to the woman that we might need security. Jk. That’s my much-used Jamie Foxx reference. No, I was all, “Has um…anyone noticed the 5150 walking about?” And her eyes got kinda wide as she explained that they usually keep those patrons in another hall while they wait, but that the hall…is full… so we have no idea what the staff is really dealing with. Huge lol.

The thing about hospitals is that. No one likes them. I mean, duh, no one loves going to the hospital unless it’s a pregnant woman who feels drawn to the Labor and Delivery wing before she actually needs to be there. But seriously. I get that no one likes them. But not every one has the same level of dislike/fear of them. See, I have this crazy thing where every time I go to the hospital for something I’d like to rationalize, they tell me something’s actually wrong. Jerks. So, I’m in the hall waiting for Josh. And they - for whatever sadistic reason - have this fake wind/hallow voices record playing. And believe me: it must be a record because this is not a natural sound. It sounds like howling wind but there’s no breeze… and it also sounds like sighing voices. Why, friends? Why must you psychologically assault me every time I step into your unnecessarily and unconvincingly “sterile” halls? And those bowed mirror things? They’re not really for safety. They’re to freak me out.

And so, now that we’ve been here for a while, Josh’s pain (on being touched, mind you, not on trying to move or rotate his ankle or apply pressure to his foot) is at a 1 or 0. Loverly. But you just know if you didn’t go in, there’s be fluid build-up and then clotting and then the clot would travel to his heart and then I’d turn into the Hulk. Anywho, he can’t walk so I guess we should figure this out before he needs to work tomorrow.

So. What else? How’s your day gone? (Oh wait, someone’s trying to fight a triage nurse!)

 

The Artist, Ezra

I completely intended to write this down last night. Which is hilarious because I didn’t get in until the evening and my Ezzie was waiting to see me! How about he’s running up to me with his Bandad’s country behind sun-hat hanging down his back (apparently, he was a turtle) and saying, “I LOVE YOU THIS MUCH! I LOVE YOU THIS MUCH!” He then proceeded to hug my legs (individually). Yeah. No writing was to get done.

So during our hours long kissfest, Ezra began singing to me. The thing is. He’s still three. And my son. Ezra. Sometimes sings to explain something to me. I’m serious. There are times when he gets overwhelmed (whether upset or happy) and he has to explain it to me in song. I’m. Not. Joking. (Example: when he’s trying to drag something across the bed of (my, not his) Auntie-Mom’s pick-up truck. He’s teary-eyed because he’s not doing it. He stops and turns to me with watery eyes and sings, “Keep trying. Keep trying. Never give up. Never give up.” It’s a song from Yo, Gabba Gabba. It pretty much kills me.) So the song he began singing almost immediately after saying how kisses make us all feel happy again? (Yeah. He said that. Josh and I could only stare at him and then at each other. Our son. Wow.) “I miss my mommy. I want my mommy. No one will get her. No one.” Those are the words I remember verbatim.

O_O

Yeah. First, let’s consider the fact that in telling me how he felt, he’s being completely cerebral and using the present tense. You can tell by his arched eye brows that he wants to express how sad he’s been for the past couple of days. But did my three year old write those lyrics?! YES. It went on beyond that, too. It went more into how much he “misses” me and more disappointment at how no one “will find her”… always repeating “no one”, more slowly and drawn out. It followed not only a melody but also a stanza composition. ARE. YOU. SERIOUS. Add this to the way he dances as though he has to because the song moves him that much, especially when he does his “sad song” (which he determines by the voice singing not by the tempo) dance that kinda resembles some sort of morning martial arts routine, complete with closed eyes occasionally… I think he got his mother’s artist soul. And because I had a million siblings, who knows if he’s years beyond my expressiveness already. Lawd.

He slays me.

 

UPDATE:Words Like Violence

I know you’re all expecting another pissy post, and rightly so since I’m still in Santa Cruz (hans) solo. And yet. Today just wanted to be the most beautiful Sunday ever. Verily I say unto thee. It has been magicalness.

So I seem to have this thing about reluctantly (crouched at the starting line…sorry) traveling sans ma famille. And at some point in the unhappiness I have this wonderfully quiet day where I speak only into the telephone with Josh and not to anyone else. Mmm silence. We (silence and I) took a lovely long relax in bed this morning, working (for work) and writing (for me… and someday, work) and listening to musica. Insert the part where I thought my phone was working and apparently it wasn’t so that’s why I had no ringage this morning! But I didn’t know this until about an hour later. At about two pm, I remembered that if Josh were there he’d be telling me to eat something and decided, since Josh wasn’t there, to wear the dress that Josh bought me last week. (I tried to find the likeness on the JCrew website but can’t. Suffice it to say, it’s a strapless - surprise, I know! I never wear strapless. - bright green dress that can be worn three ways. This last little fact has been his obsession since he first saw the dress in Portland.) But this brings up another little quirk of his. The whole dressing me like a “native girl” thing. He’d never said it before and I was presuming to tell someone this had to in fact be his mindset because it was getting a little ridiculous. Just as I’m telling her my summation, he walks in and starts cooing about how I look like I’m from some small town in Brazil or some such nonsense. Case closed. Mystery solved.

Anyway, I did wear it today (to try it out before being around him in it and defiantly saying it’s not the bestest dress ever). And I love it. It moves so much. I felt so delightful. That and I love when other people (you know, people who don’t love you so you can trust their anonymous opinions?!) make you feel beautiful. It’s just the way they look at you. So I was being fabulous driving from lunch with the top down and with my recovered sunglasses (shout-out to Sabieng Thai Cuisine for keeping my oversized sunglasses in their lost and found for TWO. WEEKS. while I cried my eyes out trying to remember where I’d last worn them!) and my senior year anthem-album, Blue by Third Eye Blind. It was so (citrusy, dude, you’ll freak…..sorry again) California.

So when I got back to campus, I didn’t feel like wasting my lovely dress and writing material inside my house so I walked over to College Eight and settled on the top of a picnic table to write and listen to my loverly I-hate-Mac shuffle. Breeze, perfect. Sunshine, perfect. Ensemble, perfect.

Mmm, silence.

UPDATE: I changed my mind, Josh. Here’s the picture. I call it: “All alone in Brazil. Wait, I mean Santa Cruz.”

 

Still By My Lonesome

Night two of solo Santa Cruz time. Well, to be honest, I spent the evening at Katie’s bachelorette party. Trying not to be preoccupied and most of the time, achieving it. Although I went through all the pictures in my phone. And also hate when I party with people now. Mostly because it doesn’t change my behavior but they assume it does and then they reference when you partied for like the next two years, while I’m like. Yeah, it’s done. Let’s move on. Anyway, I’m trying not to be a wet blanket. But seriously. I feel like it’s so overrated. I can have the exact same experience sans the obligatory round of shots. Plus, come on. It’s Santa Cruz. Was there even one remotely not “meh” looking person? Nay. Did I come home to an empty house? Yes. Am I not interested in ever seeing the night’s pictures again? Yep. And maybe that’s just me being a party-pooper. But I don’t think so. It’s just, once the night’s over, I’m over going out. Le sigh. Whatever.

So I had to come home because I don’t wanna have to be “on” tomorrow. If we hang out tomorrow, cool. If I wake up and don’t wanna talk, then I’d rather be home than on someone’s couch. Plus I feel like I’m too old to sleep on couches. It’s bed, communal pallet on the floor or nothing, people. Seriously. Isn’t there some rule about that?

This is totally a pissy post. I should probably go. And not work on anything unless I’m gonna snap out of this.

 

Happy Times with Sadface McGee

Fun times. I just got home to Santa Cruz about twenty minutes ago. Alone. Yeah, my family’s in Sac. Just me here. By myself. For days. It’s pretty cool. As was the drive back down. Good thing there’s bugs on all my light fixtures. …

So, I’d mentally composed this blog when I was at about Vacaville and again at about Campbell. Too bad it’s entirely gone. That and I really don’t like Robot Chicken all that much. Squidbilllies. Now that’s a freakin’ hilarious if oft-too-gory show!

Um. I’ll be back later. This sucks.

 

The Celtics Justify My Love

I’m so tired of headaches/migraines. For real, for real. Oh and the title shall be the only reference to tonight’s game.

So, Ezra tells us tonight that he’s going to be a farmer when he grows up. Because he wants to have cows. It’s in the blood that deep, huh? Well, at some point Pop-pop will have to sit him down and tell him the detailed account of growing up on a dairy farm. But honestly, I don’t think people should present their experience as evidence that you won’t like it - or that it’ll be like that for you in the first place. But would I prefer Ezra continue his wildlife/foreign language interest and not move “back” to the family stead in Wisconsin?  Yes. Yes, I would.

What else? Tomorrow I move Josh back up to Sacramento for his summer internship/course… and then go back and forth myself like gas isn’t $4.49 here. Because it totally makes sense to do so to go physically in to work like three hours a week. But the alternative is to live separately for the summer. Yeah. Meanwhile, doing a bunch of paperwork to prepare for September deadlines. Tra-la-la-la-la.

Other than that, Ezra is just continuing to grow into the absolute sweetest thing ever. Almost anything I say to him lovingly, he alters appropriately and says back to me. Before he went to bed, I whispered in his ear that I’m so happy to be his mommy. He responded, “I’m so happy to be your son!” He also does the “awww” a lot when I say something loving to him. The cognitive development is sometimes ridiculous, awe-inspiring to say the least.

 

Please Fire Erin Clark.

Morals and ethics and carnal forbearance. - Marge Simpson (sung)

Freakin’ hilarious. Best opening lyric to a song EVER.  But you know what’s even better? Ezra’s one painted fingernail. Painted at his behest, bien sur, when he saw me painting my toes. So I painted his pointer on his right hand a beautiful bright red. He’s completely forgotten about it but I’ve been watching the one red nail all day. So far it’s helped elephants leap over dinosaurs, stood out beautifully as Ezzie gingerly picked up a napkin and is presently getting greasy with taco juice. Delightful.

What. Else.
My family now has our own friend site. It’s hilarious. My dad is obsessed with his background.

Gawd, this summer is going to be (already is) busy!