Category: My Life

Taking This show on the Road

About two years ago, Bryan and I traveled constantly, in anticipation of never, ever being able to travel again. We knew we wanted a baby, and everyone very helpfully told us our lives would suck afterward. Also, that we’d never have sex again. Or read a magazine all the way through.

As it turns out, Hank is a happy, flexible guy. He was born that way, so we can’t take much credit, though we’d clearly blame only ourselves if he convulsed with fury at any deviation from routine. Such is parenting.

Fortunately, Hank is so mellow that our largest concern is whether he’ll just hand bullies his lunch money and sigh when he’s older. He doesn’t cry much on planes, or have trouble being in new places. We’re able to put him to sleep even out in the world (thanks Happiest Baby on the Block
!), and he often seems even more content when we travel because he has constant access to both of us.

It’s true that in some ways, traveling with a baby isn’t as much fun as traveling on your own. Especially at first, it was frustrating being unable to go wherever we wanted. In Amsterdam I worried excessively about getting lost and running out of formula or diapers. Of course, Amsterdam has drugstores every three feet or so, but apparently I thought the Dutch allowed their children to crap in the streets and fed them only chocolate until they were old enough for unpasteurized cheese. Live and learn.

At any rate, even when I’m up at 3 a.m. with a wide-awake Henry who hasn’t adjusted to the time change, traveling is still so much fun for us — I can hardly complain that it used to be 10 percent easier. Also, there are so many things about travel that are better with a baby. Hank definitely notices the stuff we’d speed right past, like friendly dogs, or cigarette butts. People are incredibly kind to you, and you waste less time sleeping off hangovers or wondering where the hell you just woke up.

One of the places we visited on our whirlwind pre-baby tour was Argentina, and we fell in love with Buenos Aires. Today, we fly back to live there for a month. (Bryan’s company closes for a couple weeks in winter, and he’s tacking on a couple weeks of his remaining paternity leave.) I’m so excited my stomach is actually flipping every time I think of it. Of course, it’s possible I have some kind of flu, in which case the fifteen-hour flight is going to be even less pleasant than I anticipated.

Anyway, now’s the time to flood me with Argentina tips if you missed your chance last time. We’d like to do every fun thing available, so don’t hold back. We’re also talking about arranging a meet-up, so let us know if you’ll be around too. You can even meet Hank. He’ll be the one eating cigarette butts out of the ashtray.

Morning Coffee

First lines from a sampling of flyers selected from the window ledge to my left:

-“Gibson Pearl’s unique fusion bellydance roots from her extensive background in tribal, as well as the influence of both traditional folkloric and contemporary modern dance.”
-“LE NOIR ET ROUGE, A sexy black and red festivity where scarlet matches the energy and passion of the females and the black color of the night compliments the men of fashionable character.”
-“International CLITORIS DAY CELEBRATION, A celebration of female sexuality that is appealing to all!”

I can’t believe we’re not gonna be home this weekend.

Happy Trails to You

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

So, I have a thing about travel plates. I love the hopefulness, the nostalgia, the sweet things they highlight that would be of little or no interest to the modern traveler (University of Mineral Mining! Deer!). When Melissa and I were shopping, we found someone’s old collection of plates, many of them marked with bits of tape indicating the year and the person who gave the plate as a gift. The plates were scattered all over the store, and we’d shout to each other victoriously every time we found a new one.

I like them grouped in with clean-lined modern objects on a shelf. Something about the kitsch factor really pops against more spare objects. They’re also sweet hung in a personalized grouping on the wall.

Anyway, some (but not all) of them made their way to the Mighty Goods Finds shop. See if we have one to mark your hometown, birthplace, favorite vacation, or fantasy trip. My dream is for this woman’s collection to inspire dozens more.

Up Yours, Cracker Jack

Non-choking Cracker Jack toys make my soul sad. What the hell, Cracker Jack? You seriously expect me to convince my kid that a half-inch square of paper with cartoon drawings of centipedes is mind-blowing fun? Do you think my kid is stupid, Cracker Jack?

While American kids are clapping and mewling over paper “pencil toppers,” German kids are ripping into the hearty intellectual challenge that is the Kinder Egg. Their candy toys are so formidable they require assembly. Do you hear that, Corporate America? German kids are learning how to build things. Our kids are scratching their heads over your three-point connect-the-dots, and then apparently stuffing them into their windpipes.

I will not allow you to stunt the fun-center of my child’s brain, jerkwads. More kids choking, fewer crap-ass toys!

Personal Timeline, Continued

This is from the prompt on page 49 of No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog. The first part of my timeline is here.

Age 11: When I babysit, we pretend there are refrigerator elves who will leave toys in the cripser if you put raisins out for them.

Age 12: At the end of the last slow dance, I receive my very first kiss. His lips touch the soft skin just below my right eye; I can feel my pulse there for weeks afterward.

Age 13: A product of Nancy Regan’s most agressive “Just say no” campaign tactics, I puffy paint “PARTY SOBER!” among the other exclamations on my plastic Sports-A-Rama visor. The upperclassmen follow me around laughing and pointing.

Age 14: One of the girls decides that the cheerleading socks with the school’s initials on them make her legs look fat and refuses to wear them. The squad is soon locked in heated battle — initial socks vs. scrunchy socks — with no one willing to wear socks that don’t match the other girls’.

Age 15: In an effort to be more likeable, I decide never to get mad at anyone or say anything negative about anyone ever again. It is the most stressful, frustrating few months of my life.

Privacy

Logan: I hope you don’t mind, I made you a “friend” on Flickr.
Bryan: I don’t know if we’re close enough yet.
Me: I don’t really use those features. The only person who can see my family-only photos is Bryan.
Melissa: So you upload a lot of personal porn.
Me: Totally. Personal porn for Bryan and the entire team at Flickr, who we have brunch with once a month or so.
Melissa: Heather’s like, “Maggie! Someone hacked your account!”
Me: Uh… No. That’s my bush. It was supposed to be private. But… I guess you can look at it, or whatever.
Melissa: And you’ve tagged it maggiesbush.
Maggie: Oh yeah, all of them are tagged and cross-referenced. Like you have a personal collection of porn so huge it needs to be easily searchable.
Melissa: There’s like 400 tags on each photo.
Me: A lot of them are in Japanese. Korean. Like, “Is that… Hindi? Huh.”

Whew!

I’m always mildly freaked before I present, and then surprised afterward by how much fun it is. This time around I was presenting some new material, and I was really happy with the result. This was in part because of the extra-welcoming crowd — a few people even drove well out of their way to come say hi, which made me feel all aw-shucksy.

Anyway, it’s time to start taking this show on the road more, we’ve been having a blast. If you missed us this time, but want to come say hi, the next place I’m scheduled to present is at SxSW.

Now I’m going to bed. Tomorrow, Detroit! I’m hoping they’ll have cocktails there.

Indianapolis

My presentation is tomorrow, and then we’re headed to Detroit for a few days.

Best thing we’ve seen here so far? A girl in her car using the cigarette lighter to plug in her hair crimper. Not nearly enough hair crimping going on in parking garages these days.