Monthly Archives: September 2007

day of fuzzybutt foiled!

Thank You Lexie!
My Bumkins arrived! They’re splendiferous:)


I tried them on Her Majesty’s Skinny Ass and they are a perfect fit. I declared today the Day of FuzzyButt dawn til dusk. I happily toted my piss smelling princess to the changing table, where I, deliriously happily, had stacked the cloth cuteness with the colorful bug prints on top. I popped a diaper on the Boue, and she wailed, then she screeched, then she full on bawled. Whaaa? I tried on a sposie: repeat of wailing. Put the cloth one back on. Screaming worse, like she’s under attack.

What is this? She’s in the sposie right now, will try the cloth again later. Her subsequent meltdown: No clothes! No nurseys! Yes Nurseys! No I meant! makes me think the diapers are not the trigger. Hmph. Tantrums = evil. Not the cool sexy kind emblazoned in my 11,000th sidebar, but the really evil evil.



Sweet. Bu bought a point & shoot camera that does video:) I’ll do the first ever DaisyBones vlog post this weekend, after some desperately needed sleep.

spicy pirate smoothie

Into Ye Blenderrrr:

1 banana, minus two toddler bites
about 8 oz orange juice
about 4 oz apple juice
handful of icecubes
shot of spiced rum

Blend until smooth. Pour into a glass, and top the frothy goodness with cinnamon.


Why I love Bu:

-Honey! Come down here! It’s Drink Like A Pirate Day!
-Drink Like A Pirate Day! (Giggles.)
-You made that up.
-OK, I’m in! Pour the rum!


Your favorite rum drink recipe?

fangirl love evil

New layout, inspired by, well, obviously the season that approacheth with all its gothy wonder and scary goodness.

omigod mariachi!

We were serenaded by a mariachi band on our anniversary! Molly was stunned with squee. Her jaw literally dropped; it was priceless! We went to the awesome Mexican restaurant downtown, and it was crazy- they’ve never had a band before. Total serendipity:) Plus very very cheap margaritas.

Lovely anniversary. Now, sleeeeeeepy.

dream of an exhausted mom

If I were a rich woman, I’d dramatically declare myself exhausted and check into a swanky spa. There would be massages and heated stones and reflexology. They’d have a yoga guru who teams with a chiropracter and birth defect specialist to cater to my limb weirdness and scoliosis needs to design my perfect meditative exercise routine. At the Daisy Dream Spa, they have a vegan nutritionist who is an award winning chef. Once a week a sushi ninja master comes in, though, and beats up the vegan and makes me raw fish dishes of mouth watering perfection. (The vegan chef gets to chill with Reiki and hot baths; he’s fine.)

There are natural hot springs so I can soak in bliss without having jacuzzi-induced carbon footprint guilt. There are fresh fruity icy smoothies to sip whilst soaking, and a folk guitarist to serenade me. Neil Gaiman comes to read me stories so my eyes can rest, too. I get foot massages and waxed legs, but only so I’m silky enough to appreciate the 1,000 thread count cotton sheets. Only, wait, they’re finely spun hemp fibers. Yeah, hemp. And they’ve been delicately scented with lavender.

There are nannies onsite who are raised on organic granola and are certified crunchy by the International Association of Mom-Tested Intuitive, Responsible, & Excellent Daycaregivers (IAMTIRED) who attend to my toddler’s needs in a creative and patient way. TV is banned and they have magic food that looks like mashed potatoes and chips but is really fresh broccoli and spinach.

There are boob fairies who bring me the baby to nurse at night and then sprinkle fairy dust on her belly to keep her full and content as she sleeps in a comfy floating crib by my bed- in which I can roll and stretch in any way I please. The boob fairies take all my night milkies and use it to make their fairy dust so I don’t have to pump or nurse.

In the morning, there are mimosas with fine champagne and fresh-squeezed orange juice and as much cantaloupe and whole wheat toast and honey butter (the fairies sneak this in for me so the vegan chef doesn’t know) as I can eat. This is served on a pretty ceramic tray by Maggie Gyllenhaal, who then gives me a full body massage and whatever else I may be needing that morning.

I really only need a few days at Daisy Dream Spa, and I’ll be recharged.


Testament to my need is the fact that it’s taken me a week to finish this post. I did get last night off so I could [sniffle and dribble tears all over] have a romantic evening with Bu. Tearful moments notwithstanding, we had a great day. Spend most of the day together with the Little Bird, including a Quest for the Ultimate Spillproof SippyGrail. (Got it! Kmart, people. Rock on, Kmart.) Then we left her with the grandies. Picked up a bottle of Chardonnay, by Bohemian Highway. Cheap but yum. Tiniest bit sweeter than many Chardonnays. Very chuggable were one wont to chug her Chardonnay while she watched Disturbia, which was great minus one ridiculous detail. (How do you get a copy of your neighbor’s blueprints while you’re confined to the house?) So then I was drunkish and adult things happened. Then we watched the StarWars ‘sode of Family Guy which was freakin’ sweet. My week of guilty TV lust resumes tonight with Heroes and The Alyson Hannigan Show, I mean, How I Met Your Mother.


dig me up from under what is covering
the better part of me.
sing this song!
remind me that we’ll always have each other
when everything else is gone.

This is my song today for my Buddha. It’s three years this afternoon at three, since I stood with him, hands bound with beaded silk, and pledged beautiful vows under a brilliant sun. Fingers encircled with white gold as bright as that sun, hands entwined. Hair falling tangled with ivy to my waist- a different woman than the mother I am now.

He seems the same to me, while I feel like I’ve changed so drastically it’s cellular and total. He’s Bu plus a child, but I feel like he married a caterpillar and now he has a strange new moth hovering around a little flame of newness. I’m in awe that he doesn’t feel a loss as I shift my world to be a caretaker of a wild new life.

He replaced his glasses after we made love, and I said a little sadly that he never sees me in focus when when we’re together like that. He told me he sees me, so close, but nothing else. I welled with tears and told him I longed to feel that. He was so sweet, holding me and loving me and fondly watching me cry. He said he knew there’d be tears, that it was OK, that this life is overwhelming, that there are still hormonal waves washing through me and that I’m still everything I wanted to hear: beautiful, sweet, sexy, loving, wonderful mom and wife.

He is a north star, an anchor, wings, a touchstone. A sturdy web of roots, fertile soil, a home. Laughing eyes, fire, water, sunshine. I’m blessed, and I keep myself too distracted to be aware. My prayer this autumn is for simplicity, to quiet the clockworks of my brain and learn to be in each moment as it unfolds. I pray to answer Bu’s call since we met, to Be Here with him, not a thousand miles away hidden deep inside myself and nowhere.