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Showing posts from January, 2014

hustle

C says Bette Davis looks like a sock with eye holes but I think she's grand. *   *   *   *   * nite art owl business a cigar-tin fox i'll show you the past black is the new black dead beautiful on audio A snow storm this morning. The kind where people stand there and go – Wow, look at this snowstorm . Couldn't see a block. But really, it was fine. Warm, snowy. The only problem was cars, especially super-cab trucks, because you have to be a special kind of jackass to drive a super cab, and having made that mental backflip, you're not going to let some teenie tiny peasants walking on the road get in your (very important, go go! ) way. *   *   *   *   * Saw American Hustle this weekend. It's the second installment of the series, where the Empire destroys the rebel base on Hoth. And oh, that Christian Bale can grow a tummy, can't he? And he can really act, too, without having to yell at anyone. Jennifer Lawrence was good, Bradley Cooper

good times

So. First big snow (you know – you shovel twice the same day and then give up) and now a cold snap settling in. Why do they call it a cold "snap"? It's not so much snappy as freeze-y. Or even bite-y. Part of the winter happy magic time is getting Oona properly dressed and out the door in good order. I can lay it all out – snow pants, parka, mits and scarf on the carpet – and leave her to it while I go make coffee, pack my lunch and carry bag (like a satchel, I'm always carrying too much damn stuff), tidy up the kitchen, get dressed myself, and *still* come back to her only half into her snow pants, and staring dreamily into outer space. Goofball. So this morning I told her, in the firmest way to date, that she's too slow. That she's not doing what she needs to do, that she's not really trying. And that trying was important because someone won't always be there to do everything for her. But mommy always does it for me , Oona said. Well, that w

some humiliations, lately

stuff, lately humiliations ambient sounds of kingston edna st. vincent millay another exquisite corpse

the fox whisperer dislikes winter

Poor Oona – she's had to walk to daycare in some truly egregious weather (they just called off the wind-chill warning this afternoon) and conditions (snow plow, meet sidewalk plow – now fight!). Yesterday I had to threaten her with frostbite just so she'd keep the scarf over her face (her: "I can't see!", me: "I don't care!"). Trying to get her up this morning was like a trip to the post office: forced smiles, mediocre results, occasional fart smell. But at least she fought me a little less on the scarf issue.