By the time I finish writing this, I will be turning thirty-three.
It probably feels a lot like thirty still, which, surprisingly, feels a lot like twenty-three. I will wake up in a few minutes to my sweeting who still wants to nurse, and I will disappoint him when I say no, and instead rub his back until he falls back asleep, then go back to sleep until it is time to  be up, just like I did yesterday, just like I'll do tomorrow, just like I did a year ago today, though I suppose then I was looking to get as many hours of sleep out of the morning as possible. I will wake on a Saturday morning, just like that Saturday morning, all those years ago when I was born, like a baby, as my mother would say, only as an adult with children of my own now.

So, in honor of the close of my second sixteenery and turning thirty-three, I'm going to share thirty-three spiffy things that I've seen, done, been involved with, etc, building on last years list.


1. Created Human Life. Twice.
2. Edited and published an anthology.
3. Sang in an Opera. Twice.
4. Ate dinner with Benazir Bhutto.
5. Wrote a novel in November. Thrice.
6. Wrote a screenplay in June. Twice.
7. Learned to quilt.
8. Wrote a novel in a weekend.
9. Fell in love.
10. Got married.
11. Breastfed my son.
12. Learned how to play the piano.
13. Learned to ask for help when I need it.
14. Sang my way to my AA, studying music.
15. Earned my BA in history, my worst subject.
16. Joined a fraternal organization.
17. Learned to TYPE.
18. Composed music that wasn't awful.
19. Volunteered.
20. Swam in the Ocean.
21. Reclaimed my sense of self.
22. Conquered my fear of roller coasters.
23. Experienced a tornado from the inside.
24. Became a human lightning rod.
25.Learned to ride a bike at the age of:
26. Saw a water spout stop at a stop light, wait for it to turn green, and continue on it's way.
27. Learned to sew.
28. Had my artwork displayed in museums.
29. Survived a mild stroke.
30. Discovered the power of *friends*
31. Saved a life.
32. Taught a new generation how to sew.
33. Learned to sew scary things like button holes.

It's been a great year, I hope yours was too, and that the next one is even better.

A Dream Tale

As a child my parents were frugal. My mother was fond of saying "we're not wasting money on..." and two of her favorite things not to waste money on were cable television and pop. There are a good many other things we didn't waste money on, designer clothes, expensive shoes, hair cuts, and smelly soaps, but these two things on which we didn't "waste money" stand out in my mind.  The one because it surprises me, in retrospect, that I wasn't hopped up on caffeine when I tell you that I was a horrible insomniac as a child.  Falling asleep at night was one of the most difficult things I attempted nightly as though I'd just downed 20oz of  Code Red. The other influenced me in that I knew there was a wealth of entertainment I wasn't seeing, because I heard the other kids at school talk about it, and so when I'd lay down to go to bed, after mom would take my book and my flashlight away from me, I'd hold very still, close my eyes, and construct a story of my own for entertainment in those pesky hours between eleven and three.
I'd create whole different worlds peopled by caricatures of real people I knew, shadowy nondescript people who served functions more than anything else, and dynamic individuals with all the quirks of genuine people. I'd spend weeks and even months in a story line or created world, every night constructing new scenes or re-imagining them until they were just right.
They were like lucid dreams for me, these stories I'd build.
They weren't always worlds entirely of my own creation. Sometimes I'd borrow worlds from the books I was reading, envisioning them clearly in my mind and slipping into the story alongside my favorite characters.  In retrospect, I am surprised that I created sub-stories within and around the plot rather than filling the shoes of another character.
I cherished that time spent in worlds of my own, and eventually, as the insomnia wore down and my time imagining was replaced with watching magnificent fiction on television with my father late into the night, because mom finally caved in and decided that cable wasn't a waste, I didn't have that time and focus,I began to miss it.
I still miss slipping into my favorite stories.  I wish I could do it more often.

A whole year.

It is very difficult for me to believe that this was a year ago.

They grow so quickly. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, that is still one of his favorite toys. Yes, a plastic golf club.

Wordless Wednesdays: Milestones from a Year Ago Today

 Spaghetti, in a high chair.

 Pulling up to standing.

Yes, the picture quality is abysmal, but it was the first time he ever stood up,

and I'm just thankful to have had my phone handy.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday:How they Grow

Wordless Wednesday

Pink Saturday: So Long Ago

About this time of year some 7 years ago, Mongoosine was a tiny little girl who still wore pink for fun, instead of as an accent to black, and her best friend was my mom's friend's 12 year old daughter.
It's amazing to look back and see how little she used to be, then look at her and her brother and wonder how soon I'll look at pictures taken today with the same nostalgic wonderment.

Do you ever look at pictures of friends and family from way back when and marvel at how things have changed since so long ago?

For more Pink Saturday, swing on by to How Sweet the Sound.

Last week I stumbled upon a lovely blog, A Scrapbook of Inspiration, with a beautiful post on daisies.  Check her out for even more Pink Saturday.

Thirty-One Things

By the time I finish writing this, I will be turning thirty-one.
It probably feels a lot like thirty, which, surprisingly, feels a lot like twenty-three.  I will wake up in a few minutes to nurse my nursling, then go back to sleep until I absolutely must be up, just like I did yesterday, just like I'll do tomorrow, just like I did a year ago today. 
But in honor of turning thirty-one, I'm going to share thirty-one spiffy things that I've seen, done, been involved with, etc, building on last years list.

1. Created Human Life. Twice.

2. Edited and published an anthology.

3. Sang in an Opera. Twice.

4. Ate dinner with Benazir Bhutto.

5. Wrote a novel in November. Twice.

6. Wrote a screenplay in June. Twice.

7. Learned to quilt.

8. Wrote a novel in a weekend.

9. Fell in love.

10. Got married.

11. Breastfed my son.

12. Learned how to play the piano.

13. Learned to ask for help when I need it.

14. Sang my way to my AA, studying music.

15. Earned my BA in history, my worst subject.

16. Joined a fraternal organization.

17. Learned to TYPE.

18. Composed music that wasn't awful.

19. Volunteered.

20. Swam in the Ocean.

21. Reclaimed my sense of self.

22. Conquered my fear of roller coasters.

23. Experienced a tornado from the inside.

24. Became a human lightning rod.

25.Learned to ride a bike at the age of:

26. Saw a water spout stop at a stop light, wait for it to turn green, and continue on it's way.

27. Learned to sew.

28. Had my artwork displayed in museums.

29. Survived a mild stroke.

30. Discovered the power of *friends*

31. Saved a life.

Thirty-one? Here's to you.

Mix Tapes and Love Songs

So there's this fabric out there that's a total blast from my past- a bright take on pastels and cluttered with Mix Tapes. 
'80s much? 

Well, I love it.
I love it on diapers. 

Love it on diaper bags.

Love it on blankets.

Love it.

Currently am planning to make a blankie out of it for Jabber Walky for Christmas.  Love it love it love it.

I love it because it reminds me of being a kid and sitting by the radio to record my favorite songs and singing them into the clunky microphone, then erasing them in embarassment. That, and all the mix tapes boys with crushes gave me. ♥

I repeat, I love mix tapes.  I love listening to carefully picked songs designed to tell someone something.

I think, if I had to pick just five love songs to put on a mix tape, they'd be these ones.

Moondance- Michael Buble

Love Song - Tori Amos

Everything I do - Brian Adams

Ich Liebe Dich-  Schubert

Year Without Rain - Selena Gomez (yeah, I've got kids and an ear worm)

What would you pick?

Where's the Sparkle?

Motherhood is great.  I love being a mommy.  Love almost everything about it, but where's the sparkle?
I don't mean the sparkle in my kids' eyes, or the giddy joy of playing a new game, but the pretty sparkley shiny things that made me feel feminine and decorative.  Glitzy earrings and expensive necklaces. Bracelets that the offspring can't teethe on.
I admit it. I miss it.  I miss wearing jewelery that isn't childproof.
There's one piece in particular that I miss wearing.
It's nothing particularly fancy, but it has a lot of meaning for me.

I made this necklace about five years ago.  I made it out of a cheap clasp, some cord that I probably picked up at a local crafts store, beads from two broken necklaces, and a couple extras left over from the last time my mom hosted a "beading party."  What makes it special is the well polished stone hanging in the center.
I don't know what this stone is.  It was some sort of geode my grandmother cut and polished herself many years ago.
She was a stained glass artist, and she also enjoyed cutting and polishing stones and slabs into beautiful jewelry. When she passed after a bitter struggle with cancer, my mother inherited some of the unfinished stone pieces she'd begun, and this one passed to me.
When I first held it up to the light and saw it's swirl of inclusions and imperfections, I knew I had to make a special home for it, and was actually rather pleased to find that the beads of two of my irritatingly broken necklaces serendipitously would work together to make a perfect necklace to showcase this stone.

So yes, some of the beads are glass, some plastic, some wood, some metal.  None of it is particularly worth anything, but to me, it's worth more than a diamond, because when I wear it, I'm a little girl again in her art studio being admonished not to touch anything, because everything was sharp and dangerous, still catching my breath at the way light passes through red and gold glass.


So I miss wearing jewelery too precious to have broken by pulling little fingers.  I miss the sparkle. The sparkle of light bouncing off multifaceted and brilliantly colored gems, and the sparkle of memories far too dear.  I miss wearing this, because when I wear it, she's still alive.

Halloween Then

This year I thought my kidlet might get cold in his costume, so we opted for warm Superman sleeper pajamas over a set of skeleton pajamas and set out with the tween, spouse, my dad, and my grandfather.

That's right, three generations Trick or Treating together. We've been doing this since I was JabberWalky's age.  Every year we'd gather at my grandparents' house and then venture out into the neighbourhood en masse to share in some good quality grandparents time.

Grandpa hasn't changed much. He's thinner now, a bit slower, but his smile is just the same, as is his laugh when the littles get spooked by his neighbours' long planned shenanigans.

One year, when I was young, one of his neighbours had his friends hide in the bushes dressed as were-beasts, and they jumped out as we approached begging for candy.  This year his children had taken over the spooking. 

So much is the same.  I often was wearing a couple sets of pajamas for a costume, though the outermost layer of mine would be my prettiest flowiest gown in stead of the winter equivalent of Underoos.  Don't take that to mean that I didn't have my Wonder Woman ones on under all the princessy nightgownage, because I probably did.

So tonight, I felt a little bit like I was a tiny kidlet again, walking down the street with my Grandpa, rushing up to each house to exclaim "Trick or Treat," just like it was more than twenty years ago.  Halloween now is a lot like Halloween then, just, you know, Halloween then was then-i-er.

For more on Halloween Then, check out TheSitsGirls, because Tiffany is pretty, and unicorns are real.