Month: February 2009

Hank is Two!

http://www.db798.com/pictobrowser.swf

And he likes trucks, so we had a truck party. He stayed up all the way through his naptime and didn’t shove a single child to the ground as punishment for playing with his toys. Victory!

As you can tell, we’re big into parties. I’m providing details here, because I suspect I’ll answer lots of questions in comments if I don’t. If you’re also the type who shivers at the smell of hot glue, here you go:

Cone and Truck Garlands They’re made of felt affixed to ribbon with hot glue, and I cut all the little pieces out myself. You can cut four or five at a time.
Labels The cake flags, food labels, and the sticker on the favor sign were all gifts from Jordan who does Stuck Labels, which I mentioned yesterday. So. Cute. I’m suddenly labeling everything I own.
Favor tags They’re just metal-rimmed garage sale tags that I got at the hardware store. I drew on them, and replaced the string with ribbon.
Truck Cake Bryan made that with two pound cakes from the freezer section. He cut one in half and stacked it for the cab, then carved a bed out of other. The dirt is crumbled Oreos and frosting.*

Hooray for two! Hank, you’re my little buddy.

*Update:
Traffic Cone Party Hats are from here.
Handmade Wooden Cars are from Clickity Clack Collectibles.

Fun Things Roundup

Behind the scenes, I’ve still been trying to do a Fun Thing every day. This week was particularly nice, because my life is awesome. A Fun Things recap:

Thursday’s Fun Thing
Alli, my college roomie and partner in crime, went into labor. Alli and I met in seventh grade, where both of us spent lots of time in the library pondering our Welcome to the Dollhouse lives. Things have since improved.

Friday’s Fun Thing
Lisa Stone convinced me that it was bad juju to ignore hot tub access at the Four Seasons. Lisa, if you haven’t met her, is like Den Mom for your life. We had a glass of wine and thirty minutes to decompress before we hit the Mom 2.0 party, where I eventually forced her to put her purse down while we danced.

Saturday’s Fun Thing
I moderated a stunningly informative panel at Mom 2.0. Turns out I’m surrounded by geniuses — specifically Isabel Kallman of AlphaMom, Gabby Blair of Kirtsy and DesignMom, and Barbara Jones of the W.O.M. Mom. All that intellect, and pretty easy on the eyes, if you know what I’m sayin’. We teamed up to fix everything wrong with the Internet. (Watch your back, Scoble.)

Sunday’s Fun Thing
Hank’s truck-themed birthday brunch, which we cunningly scheduled right in the middle of his nap time.

Monday’s Fun Thing
Cooking freezables for the new parents. (How cute are those Stuck Labels? Having a stockpile around is making my life prettier.)

Tuesday’s Fun Thing
Meeting Eli. Hello there, little boy.

Hot Phone-Crush Action

The Mom 2.0 Summit was a very good time.

At the conference party I ran into a group of startlingly fashionable guys:

-Are you from Argentina?
-No.
-Europe?
-No.
-Musicians?
-No.
-Wait. Does Houston have a gay scene?
-YES!

Ahhhh. Texas shorts my gaydar.

Anyway, my new friends (who do work with the Osito Foundation), told us where we could find some good dancing in town, which is how Lisa, Gwen, and I ended up at a gay bar.

I set my coat on a bench, and the bench eventually became a “stage,” which is how a dancing transvestite accidentally crushed my phone. I’m pretty sure there’s a fetish site for this somewhere, so I expect my stats to reflect that shortly.

The phone still works, so props to Apple, because those were some seriously menacing platforms. Still, I prefer it when my iPhone isn’t shedding glass shards into my ear. Le sigh.

In other news, Gwen was wearing Wonder Woman panties, and so it turns out that like her very much.


(Photo from Gillat)

Also, My Jaw Can Walk Through Walls Now

Filling out the paperwork for my oral surgery, I noticed I was signing a consent form for bone grafting. I had some questions for the person at the desk.

-Uh. Are you taking some of my jaw and putting it somewhere else in my jaw?
-Excuse me?
-Where do you get the bone for the bone grafting?
-Oh, it’s a pre-treated crushed bone. Sort of like sand we use to fill the space.
-Is it human bone?
-It’s cadaver.
-So, human.
-No, it’s cadaver. It’s animal bone.
-… Doesn’t cadaver mean “dead human body?”
-No, I’m pretty sure cadaver is a kind of animal.
-…

In the end, she asked the doctor, who confirmed that it was dead-person sand they were packing in my jaw. This made me feel uncomfortable, and then deeply grateful. Signing that donor card is such an act of grace. I never anticipated needing anything quite so personal from a stranger, but here I am. Since the surgery, I’m carrying something sacred around with me — a little thimbleful of someone else.

Also, my jaw is now certifiably haunted. So if I say something insulting the next time I see you, you can’t necessarily prove it was me. Stupid.

My Head is Heavy, Like a Melon

I have problematic teeth. When I go to the dentist, which I do every few minutes, they look at me like I’ve been sleeping with hard candy in my mouth, and waking to a hearty breakfast of dried apricots dipped in marshmallow fluff.

So many hygienists have given me flossing demonstrations that I’ve begun to carry a photo of our medicine cabinet in my wallet:

That’s eleven containers of floss, y’all, not counting the two in my nightstand drawer and the one I keep in my dopp kit. So you see, I’ve become “vigilant” about this issue. I’m the fucking Rainman of flossing.

Anyway, this round of oral surgery was to place two implants, one to replace a baby tooth that I never lost, and one to replace a botched root canal done by a dentist I no longer visit — except in particularly graphic nightmares.

After the surgeon made four unsuccessful attempts at placing an IV to knock me out, we decided it might be preferable to go with the laughing gas. Because I was in fetal position crying at the time, this sounded good to me.

They applied the Vader mask, and I immediately recalled how much I dislike laughing gas. I lost the bit of composure I’d managed to summon, and tears began to pool in my ears. When the Novocain took effect, I freaked, albeit in a very subdued, distant manner. A peek into my gas-addled mind:

It is clear I have no teeth. I am an ancient person whose toothless face is weathered with knowledge.

No. Wait. I am a baby with a round, toothless face, seeing every detail for the first time.

No! Wait! I am uncomfortably high.

To test the latter theory, I tried to lift my arm. Fail. Accordingly, I began to panic.

I am too high to lift my arm. I am entirely too high!! How can I possibly be of use? How can I help the periodontist complete this task? I am useless like this! USELESS!

Then I began to laugh uncontrollably, and my arm floated into view. I tapped the mask and said, “I. Hate. This. Shit.”

And that’s how I ended up having the surgery with a pint of Novocain and very little dignity. I can recall all the details of why my mouth feels like this, which is why I hope to drink heavily this weekend.

Tomorrow, do you want to talk about bone grafting? No? Aw. Let’s do it anyway.

Love,
Maggie

Hello there, Texas

I'm speaking at The Mom 2.0 Summit

I’m headed to Houston this weekend to moderate a panel at Mom 2.0.

Is it possible I’ll still be on pain meds from my mouth surgery? It’s possible. What’s certain is that I’ll be talking around a couple of retainers. So we’ll see how that goes.

The panel is about whether product placement is evil. What’s the subtle difference between paying your rent and whoring yourself? Is it cool to wear a bikini while you’re holding up the Coke can?

There’s still time to sign up to attend the conference, so hopefully I’ll see you there. I’ll be signing copies of my book before the panel. Also, Laura promised to teach me how to spit while I’m in Texas, so the Flickr stream should be worthwhile.

If I miss you this time, future plans include SxSW in Austin and Blogher in Chicago, though I’m not sure I’ll be speaking at either. Hopefully I’ll see you around.

Project! Pretty Lingerie Drawer

As you may recall, last summer I was bitching about uncomfortable underwear. I was feeling globally homicidal at the time, but was unable to stop pulling at my drawers long enough to pull a trigger. So G-strings are useful for something besides sex after all.

Anyway, you guys came to the rescue with a range of good suggestions, which I proceeded to try out.

A while later I saw this gem of an article in Domino (available online courtesy of DesignMom). It’s about organizing your underwear so it looks all fancy. After reading it, my disheveled pile of aging cotton made me feel even more pathetic.

I finally threw out all my ill-fitting drawers and bought a couple of these on sale:

That’s the Old Navy Women’s Mesh Hipster, and just as you promised, it’s a towering achievement in undergarments — cute, flattering, reasonably priced, comfy, no panty line, good at math. Once I’d tried them out, I went online and ordered enough to outfit the Rockettes.

The drawer organizers I found were overpriced, so I bought some ornament storage trays on clearance at the Container Store, because I am a genius.

Anyway, behold!

Are you atremble at the glory of it all? For the record, that glass full of weed is actually verbena leaves. I thought it would make the drawer smell nice, but it didn’t really, so feh.

I redid my sock drawer too:

I can’t tell you how chick-excited I am. It’s like a new-issue-of-People-and-box-of-rainbow-macaroons-from-Miette-while-I-watch-Gossip-Girl excited.

Anyway, do this for yourself. I’m surprised at how calming it is to wake up knowing I won’t have to paw through a tangle of withered elastic and granny wear.

Tomorrow, oral surgery! Enjoy my pain-killer enhanced posts for the next week or so.