A Random Conglomeration of Awesomeness, a.k.a. An Excellent Gift Guide

Hurry, folks, time's a-wastin'. By my count, there are 5 more days until Hanukkah, 9 to Christmas.

Were you looking for CHEAP-ASS gifts for your beloveds? Ones that say "Even though I can't afford much, I still think you're worthy of cool stuff."? Look no further, here are four sweet deals for under $20, one for under $30 and one for exactly $40 that was too cool to pass up. Not too shabby.


This poster is about the coolest reference material ever made.


Yarn in beautiful colorways for the peacenik in your life.



A "Rad" tee shirt by rad artist Ray Fenwick.


Foxes in Trees.


A pretty little cardinal pendant, featuring my favorite colors.

I don't know about you, but I feel better knowing that you know about this now.

Fay Four: the Sitar

Not as exotic as a hurdy gurdy, and every Beatles fan on the planet is familiar with it, but who doesn't love a sitar?

This is Anoushka Shenkar, daughter of Ravi Shenkar, who taught George Harrison how to play. She is incredible.

Day Three: The Hurdy Gurdy

We saw a hurdy gurdy in action at Folklife Festival a few years ago, and I fell in love with it.

I've always been drawn to gypsy music, starting with Bartok's Romanian Dances in 7th grade, with my youth orchestra. There's something so complicated sounding about the hurdy gurdy. I think it's the drone strings.

Close your eyes, and you might mistake it for a bagpipe. If you're not Scottish, I suppose.

Day Two: The OUD

My belly dance classes have introduced a whole new world of instrumentation into my life. The oud is very impressive.

Theme Week: Exotic Instruments

Tonight, at dinner, we were (nerdily) listening to a radio program about Nicola Tesla. At some point, there was a theramin theme song. We asked Fezzik if he knew which instrument it was. Negative. We reminded him that he'd played one once, at the Science Center.

He replied, "Am I supposed to remember every exotic instrument I see?"

Yes, Fezzik, yes you are.

I bring you EXOTIC INSTRUMENT WEEK. Don't forget them, these instruments rule the world.

Day 1: Theramin

Project Time

It's that time of year again, when thoughts turn to cheap but meaningful gifts. Using up what I already have is a plus, too.

Spoiler alert: it's rather difficult to make soap with Tiny Viking getting into everything these days.

Knitting projects have their appeal. I have tons of yarn (if not tons, maybe pounds), needles, and there are a million free patterns on the interwebs. I enjoy knitting, the design element, the ability to customize a gift to a loved-one's personality. And most people appreciate the time and effort put into it (and non-knitters are sufficiently amazed by my skills), so it pays off. I wonder if it's a bit hokey, though, and if the actual item is appreciated as much as the sentiment, or in equal relation to the efforts I put into creating it.

I just finished a headband for my friend Heidi's (belated) birthday. It only took about an hour and a half to make. Then I came home from her brunch, and swiftly made my friend Jessica one that she can use for a wedding headband, if she wishes. Then, after I finished that one, I started on a hat for Fezzik. I finished the hat this morning. Now it's time to find a pattern and start one for Tiny Viking. This is appealing, I must say, but perhaps a bit too difficult for this time of year. And, well, it is ridiculous.

Lawnboy's ever-more hairless pate is in need of a nice forest green watchcap, too. Yarn has been procured, all that's left is finding the right pattern.

I know I'm crazy, and what's worse is that these are just the ones I could mention; there are a dozen or so more ideas floating in my head, what to make for my friends. We'll see if I get my shit together in time to pull them all off. Don't hold your breath.

The Never-ending Coral Maze

This post is for Brooks and Dave; I hope you already have tickets, dudes:

http://www.phish.com/news/index.php?year=2008#story409

Timing is Everything

Heh. Right, so the whole family has been running on empty for about a week. I'm exhausted, and I don't know why. I think it's me fighting off the flu (and succeeding, dammit!), but today Lawnboy asked me if I thought I might be, you know, maybe, pregnant?

WHAT THE EFF?! Oh hell no. Lawnboy, have you blocked that trip we took to Dr. Snip? Because even though they weren't my vas deferens, I remember it. Don't get teste with me. (Oh god, I can't believe I just wrote that. It's staying, though. I love puns. Especially dorky ones like "teste.")

Well, this whole post is way more than you needed to know, so I think I'll just keep on going. Here's the deal, the secret behind that question: Dr. Snip told Lawnboy that he doesn't have a green light yet. Something went wrong with that surgery. And he might have to repeat the whole procedure.

If there's one thing that trying to get pregnant for two-and-a-half years taught me, that thing is timing. It's everything. And, since there are only a few live swimmers in any given "deposit" (I'm so sorry, there's no delicate way to put it, and please rest assured I'm blushing right now, prude that I am), we've been mostly careful since his surgery, so the odds are slim to none, so don't get your hopes up.

Although, there's a sick, sick part of me who would really enjoy having another baby in the house. Tiny Viking is not a little baby any more, and holding our friends' baby Sadie last weekend reminded me that I might have agreed to the vasectomy a little too soon. Not that we could afford another child. That's another post in itself, although I'm sure most of you can relate. However, two in daycare almost completely mitigate my salary, so perhaps it's not such a terrible accident after all. Perhaps I'm not hoping I'm fighting the flu. PERHAPS I REALLY AM PREGNANT!

Whoa, is that hormones? Was I just yelling at my audience?!? Time to get an EPT.

Chronic Overachiever

In my endless quest for attention, I've ventured into the world of online craft and vintage crap sales.

Hooray for the internets, and hooray for me!

I need a better camera, obviously, but that will have to wait for a while. Until, you know, we pay off the kitchen remodel. Unless anyone out there has a Canon EOS Rebel they want to get rid of. Anyone? Anyone? Email me & I'll send you our home address...

So, anywhoodle, go here and buy my thing. There are more things to come. But as you know, I'm busy, so please be patient.

The Shiner

My boys have not yet broken any bones, or required any stitches. Before yesterday, in my 8+ years as a parent, I'd only been to the emergency room once, for pneumonia when Fezzik was about 2.

I'm not a freaker-outer, so there may have been instances in past that could have been borderline E.R. material. But my usual routine is to slap some hydrogen peroxide (or magic bubbles) and a bandage on their owies and call it good.

Yesterday, while I was in a meeting (at the job that pays me to stay there and do stuff), I got a call on my cell phone from Tiny Viking's teacher. I knew it would be bad when I saw the caller ID, because they NEVER chase me down on my cell phone. I excused myself from the meeting and picked up the call, and found out that Tiny Viking had hit his face on a window sill and required my attention. Immediately.

These are the moments in which I'm glad we pay and arm and a leg to have him onsite at my work. I was able to run to his class and get there while he was still crying. He had a cold wash cloth on his face, and whimpered when I reached out for him. I pulled the wash cloth back to see the damage, and I knew that it wasn't great. Head wounds bleed, y'all. A lot.

After I saw that the cut was pretty deep, I decided to err on the side of caution this time, and take him to the hospital. I felt a little silly, because there were no protruding bones or hanging body parts, but still.

Do you know that they super glue now, instead of stitching? It's so cool! They washed it out, and glued his face back together, and all he has is a little owie and a shiner now. Very dangerous, very mysterious. See?

Victory is Ours!

Oh happy day!

How Not To Parent

The budget doesn't have room in it for studio portraits of the boys in their (ADORABLE! CREATIVE! MOSTLY HOME MADE!) Halloween costumes, but do you think I could take a damn picture with MY OWN CAMERA? Nope.

Not of both of them, anyway.

I did capture the Tiny Viking in all his precocious glory. This was pre-pillage, so he's not all tuckered out in his stroller like he was when we went trick-or-treating. Fezzik did the door-to-door stuff. I figured we didn't need any more candy, and the small one doesn't know he missed out anyway.

By the way, the small one will henceforth be referred to as TINY VIKING. Because it's cute. And he's Swedish. And he dressed up as a Viking. And it's much, much easier to type than "The Amazing So and So."

Vocab

Ten old fashioned terms I'd like to bring back into our daily lexicon:

1. Shenanigans (My boys and their shenanigans!)
2. Snazzy (Brooke, that's a snazzy top you have on today!)
3. Razzle-dazzle (This power point is boring. Let's add some razzle-dazzle.)
4. Houligan (Those houligans across the street are up to no good again.)
5. Trousers (These trousers are tight on me!)
6. Scram (Here comes Steve, we'd better scram.)
7. Meat hooks (Get your meat-hooks off of me!)
8. Unmentionables (I washed my husband's unmentionables with my red shirt, and now they're all pink.)
9. Davenport (Let me move the cat so you can sit down on the davenport.)
10. Drainboard (I left the banana bread out on the drainboad; help yourself.)

Halloween at the Zoo

We went to the zoo last night for the Pumpkin Prowl, and it was dark and scary for Fezzik, but fun for the rest of us!

We saw this fantastic acrobatics troupe from Portland, Kazüm, performing to The B-52's "Planet Claire." It was amazing.


And the Youth Company from SANCA. No video, but they juggled glowing balls in the dark, and jumped rope (sometimes while juggling). These kids were so composed, even when they missed. I'm always in awe of folks who can pick up and run with it after a snafu, without a hint of poor showmanship. This is the place where we'll take The Amazing So and So for acrobatics classes once he turns two.

Winter Squash Obsession

This is the best thing I've ever done with a butternut squash. The sweetness of the squash melded perfectly with the roasted garlic. It sounds weird, I know, but if you like squash, you won't be disappointed. This recipe will serve 6 as a side dish, pretty easily.

2 or 3 lbs dry winter squash (Butternut, Blue Hubbard or Kabocha would work well. Use any dry squash, but not acorn or Delicata - they're too wet and won't caramelize enough when you roast it)
6 big cloves of garlic
1/4 c. flour
1/4 c. olive oil
Salt, pepper
Preheat oven to 325


1. Peel and gut the squash, then cut it into tiny, 1/3 inch cubes. You can be lazy and cut the cubes bigger, but the extra caramelization that happens when you cut it into teeny tiny cubes is worth every knife stroke. Trust me.
2. Peel and roughly chop the garlic. You can use more if you are trying to ward off vampires, or if you're my friend Anna. I would use more next time, for sure.
3. Place the squash, garlic, flour and salt and pepper in a mixing bowl, and stir it all together.
4. Oil the bottom and sides of a large roasting pan. The biggest you can find. Then dump the squash mixture into the pan and pour the olive oil over the top. You can use more oil if you're not watching your girlish figure. It's good with more.
5. Bake/roast for 2 + hours, until the squash is golden brown all over.
6. Serve. Don't expect leftovers, but if you can't eat it all in one sitting, it's very, very good hotted up the next day too.

Movie Night

New drink recipe:
1 part Stoli Vanil vodka
2 parts root beer
Serve over ice

Had my three favorite belly dance friends over to watch "The Belly Dancers of Cairo" last night, and we finished off a fifth of vanilla vodka. Yummy!

Good movie, too (I think).

It's time for another installment of Things I Own and Love.

My Grandma Bonnie's kitchen timer, from the '40's or '50's. It was one of the three items I claimed from her basement after she died a few years ago, along with her pickle crock and her Staffordshire china dog. There is beauty in the timer's simplicity (and its Bakelite hand).

This timer serves us well. We use it for timing such things as hard-boiled eggs, tooth brushing, time-outs (not often), and clean-up blitzes (not often here, either). Most recently we have been using it to time Fezzik's reading sessions, not because we want to make sure he reads the specified homework amount, but because we want him to have enough time to live a little, too. Kiddo never puts down the books.

Except today, when he strapped his calculator to his belt loop and exclaimed "I know it's weird, but I like doing random calculations."

Awesome Decorating Tip # 42

I'm no Martha Stewart. But every now and then, I come up with a good homemaking idea.

Also, Halloween is my favorite holiday without presents.

And I like to outfit my home very creepily for this occasion.

This year, to build on the interior creepiness, including my handmade shredded muslin curtains, I've decided to print out old photos, portraits, dageurrotypes, and silhouettes, replacing my usual pictures and prints.

I've found some awesome images online, Victorian funeral portraits and antique autopsy photos. These are too gross even for me. But I really like the idea. You out there, yes, you, without the 7-year-old, feel free to make giant autopsy prints.

Most Important Thing I've Done All Year

Values

Overheard at the playground this morning:

Mom 1: You're a shining example. A single mom, with two kids, and no job, yet your kids are still dressed to the nines.
Mom 2: It isn't easy, but I do try to dress them really well. Nordstrom, Baby Gap, you know.
Mom 1: You do a great job of it.

Me (in my head): what does that make me? I'm a married mom, with two kids and a great job. Even so, my kids' wardrobes are about 75% thrifted. Right, that makes me smart.