Category Archives: holidays

party like it’s 1989!

party like it’s 1989!

My birthday is coming!  In honor of this awesome, once-a-year event, I’m having a party in 3 parts.

Part 1: the movie

August 22, 8 p.m., the lawn outside Beaverton Public Library.  Come watch Goonies with us!  For free! More details about the movies in the park program here.
Part 2: the party

August 23, 3 p.m., my place.  Cupcakes, finger sandwiches, (iced) tea, crumpets with clotted cream & lemon curd, and a dip in the pool.  That’s right folks, I’m having a tea party! Pointy hats & side ponytails optional, kids welcome, BYOB.
Part 3: the game

August 24, 2 p.m., PGE Park.  Minor league baseball, concession stand food, knitters.  $10 tickets available here, user: stitch, password: pitch.
RSVP by e-mail: jen[at]gonzopants[dot]com or call my cell if you have the number.  This is an open invitation, esp. open to folks I haven’t seen in a while or only know via ravelry.  Please stay home if your plan is to kill me or my kids.

Christmas wrap-up (get a drink, there are lots of photos, this could take a while)

Christmas wrap-up (get a drink, there are lots of photos, this could take a while)

Thanks to Llamaface’s boss being a total asshat, Llama didn’t get any of his requested vacation time approved & only had Dec. 24 & 25 off. So we had our own little family celebration after he got off work on Dec. 21, in part to reduce the overwhelming nature of the holidays on Boogermonkey and in part so I could find out what Llama got me :) He took the pearl we got from this tourist-trap “tap the oyster & get a pearl” place when we visited San Francisco to Ben Bridge & had them make a pendant. Just a solitary pearl hanging from a white gold box chain, and it’s absolutely perfect. It was a total surprise, and he was worried I wouldn’t like it, but it’s totally perfect. I love it. It’s sentimental & romantic & I wear it every day. He got lots of kisses for that one :D

So then we had 2 days where he had to work late, in which I had to prepare for our trip south. Wrapping, organizing, laundry, everything was on me. It got done, thankyouverymuch. Dec. 23 we headed down to Portland after Llama got off work late, arrived at Llamamama’s house just past 1 a.m. and proceeded to cram the three of us (four if you count my belly) into her full-sized bed. Full-sized beds are, just for the record, too small for two adults and a toddler who likes to sleep on the diagonal.

The Llama family celebrates on Christmas Eve, and normally presents aren’t opened until midnight, but between not having a nap, eating WAY too many M&Ms at Llama’s friend Eric’s house, and it being past his bedtime, Booger was getting far too cranky to keep him up that late.

Booger likes Eric because he gives him chocolate.


Eric had these glasses that, when you looked at lights, turned the lights into snowmen. It was a little freaky, but Booger loved them.

So we acquiesced and started the gift chaos at 9ish. Now, let me start by saying that I love the Llama family. All drama aside, they are a caring, generous, boisterous bunch. But I hate the way they open gifts. It is total chaos, with people opening stuff all at once in rapid succession. Booger got stuff I didn’t even know about until afterward because I didn’t see him opening it, and that makes me a little sad because he finds such JOY in opening gifts. Not the gifts themselves (that comes later), just the tearing of paper. Because he’s two.

Llamabrother LOVED his hand-knit socks.

So once the living room was clean and the family had all gone home, Booger & I went to bed, with Llama making himself comfortable on the floor. We headed out the next morning for Eugene for a much smaller celebration at my mother’s house. My entire family was 1/3 the number of people at the Llama household the day before, and it was nice to not have to explain to a capital-EFF Fundamentalist why using “gay” as a negative adjective was a bad thing. Yes, I really did do that at the Llama house. I don’t think he got it. Of course, his eyes did that “I have no idea what you just said, but I’ll pretend like I understood” thing when I used the phrase “pejorative adjective,” so that could have had something to do with it. I’m glad I had knitting in my hands when he said, “I’m the most persecuted group there is – white, male, Christian. There’s no one more persecuted in this country than I am,” because otherwise I might have hurt him. Anyway, while we waited for dinner to finish cooking, Little Brother entertained Booger. Notice the red Hugh Heffner pajamas Booger’s wearing. They have become his favorite outfit and he insists on wearing the shirt any time he wears the pants.


Booger plays slide guitar while Little Brother jams with him.

Llama went to pick up Nana from her house and we had a late lunch/early dinner of Cornish game hen, potato salad, stuffing, and a few other sides.


Booger ponders the logistics of eating an entire Cornish game hen.


Oh, look! Olives have holes in them the same size as my fingers!


Oh, how I love olives! Nom nom nom.


Why yes, I can fit five olives in my mouth at once. You were concerned I couldn’t?

My grandmother is funny and apologized to Booger for giving him a gift in a sack instead of wrapped in paper. “I ran out of paper,” she said, as though he comprehends that or cares.


Bath toys for Booger!

Once the presents were all opened, we dressed Booger up and he started dancing to the tune my mother’s Christmas tchotchke plays. It’s this wind-up thing with magnets in it and Mr. & Mrs. Claus ice-skate around to “Jingle Bells.” “I like that beautiful song,” he kept saying. You can see the tchotchke on the floor by Mom’s right hand.

He wears that smock now any time he helps me with chores like laundry or getting the mail.


Dance, Booger, dance!


A testament to Little Brother’s horticultural prowess, those miniature pumpkins are just as stable as they were the day they were picked in October.

After bringing Nana home & a brief snooze for Llama, we headed back to Portland to spend the night, then came back to Seattle early the next morning so Llama could deal with all the assholes who shop the day after Christmas. Fucking spend some time with your families, or clean your house, or something, but don’t fucking threaten the retail employee who can’t give you a refund because to do so would be against policy because you don’t have the packaging, you don’t have a gift receipt, and you’re not willing to take a gift card. Get your crack money somehow else, asshole. *deep breath out*

Anywho, that was our Christmas. It would have been nice to spend more time with both halves of the family, at least a full day with both of them, and maybe see some friends, too, but that just wasn’t in the cards this year. Maybe next year. Llama has contacted someone who works at the administrative level for a major company based in Portland (not naming names to avoid jinxing things), and we’re hoping that pans out. This woman is his little sister’s boyfriend’s mom, so it’s kind of a personal contact, in a roundabout way. It would be really, REALLY nice for him to work for this company, given the opportunity for advancement within the corporation.

A MAN WITH A TAPE RECORDER UP HIS NOSE!

A MAN WITH A TAPE RECORDER UP HIS NOSE!

Or: something completely different – verbal snapshots of my life

==========

Boogermonkey: Mama? Daddy!

me: Daddy’s at work, love.

Booger: I miss him.

me: *melts to goo*

==========

E-mail from concerned relative to entire mailing list: FWD – There’s a new type of meth being marketed & handed out to kids! EVERYBODY PANIC!

me: *sigh* No, there isn’t.

==========

Me: Do you know where the Tree of Joy is in this mall?

Security Guard Who Does Not Speak English Well and Is Missing Teeth: The big tree is outside.

Me: *explains concept*

SGWDNSEW&IMT: Let me ask. *Swahili into walkie-talkie* No, my supervisor doesn’t know what that is. He says the big tree is outside.

Me: *facepalm*

==========

Booger: *climbs onto my lap*

my phone: *blideep* “Hello? Andy? Is that you?”

Me: oh shit. *turns off by accident, redials last number* Hi Addie! Your thesis is done! Congratulations! My toddler just called you! WITH HIS FOOT!

==========
Me: Do you know where the Tree of Joy is in this mall?

SGWDNSEW&IMT, but who works at the other mall and is also old: I don’t know what that is.

Me: *explains concept again*

SGWDNSEW&IMT,BWW@TOM&IAO: *Russian into walkie-talkie* There’s a big tree at the Westlake Center.

Me: *headwall*

==========

My ten ok so there are a whole lot more than 10 least favorite Christmas songs, in no particular order:

  1. Blue Christmas
  2. Do They Know it’s Christmas?
  3. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree
  4. Holly Jolly Christmas
  5. Santa Claus Is Coming to Town
  6. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
  7. Feliz Navidad
  8. All I Want for Christmas
  9. Happy Xmas (War Is over)
  10. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
  11. Run Rudolph Run
  12. Jingle Bell Rock
  13. Little Drummer Boy
  14. Do You Hear what I Hear?
  15. Merry Christmas, Baby

you may begin: nablopomo 25/30

you may begin: nablopomo 25/30

Thanksgiving is over and, while I won’t be decorating for Christmas until December 1, I think it’s acceptable to start now, even if it’s not optimal to do so.  My opinions on the holiday are pretty strong, colored by years of weird Christmases, a “broken” home, shitty stuff happening during the season, etc.  For instance, I don’t believe in fake trees, unless one is physically incapable of setting up a real one.  Nana, for instance, has a really cool 1.5′ tall fiber optic tree that she pulls out of a box every year.  Nana is 81.  Therefore, her fake tree is acceptable.  My mother, too, has a fake tree, one she bought when I went off to college because she’s depressed about having an emptier house and doesn’t want to “go all out” for the holidays anymore.  My mother is able-bodied, not even yet 50, and manifesting her sadness by bringing more plastic purchased at the store that shall not be named.  Her fake tree, therefore, is unacceptable.  Chasing lights?  They’d better chase in procession and not be all seizure-inducing with different patterns on each strand.  And wrapping them zig-zag style like my dad always did to “save space,” is SO not okay.  Lights (and garlands, for that matter) go all the way around or they don’t go on at all.  Kitsch is acceptable, and in fact I’d argue that Christmas is the perfect place to go all-out with the kitsch.  This tree, for instance, is the coolest thing ever, if you’re a knitter.  I’m not going to make one because the thought of working with homespun AND fun fur at the same time gives me the heebie-jeebies, but if someone were to make it for me, say in exchange for a pair of hand-knit socks (to be given after the new year), I totally wouldn’t object.

on the road again: nablopomo 18/30

on the road again: nablopomo 18/30

This evening begins the Gonzofamily Thanksgiving Road Trip Extravaganza™.  We drive down to Portland to spend tonight with Llamamama, then in the morning we continue down Interstate Five to Squidmama (my mom), spend Monday shopping & preparing for untraditional Thanksgiving/Boogermonkey’s birthday party on Tuesday.  Wednesday we’re back north to Llamamama’s house.  I’m hoping to get some fiber frisking done Weds. evening.  Any Portland peeps know of a Wednesday knit night that hasn’t been canceled because of Turkey Day?  Thursday is the traditional Feast of the Dead Bird™, whereby I’ll eat the rolls and some salad and not much else (not much of a Thanksgiving food fan *shrug*), then we get to drive home with every other Seattleite who decided to spend the holiday in Portland because Llamaface has to work at 9:00 Friday morning.  Shop at his store on Friday and I will rain holy terror down upon your head.  I fucking HATE Black Friday, and I hate what it does to him.  Anywho, I’m supposed to be packing, but Booger refuses to leave my lap, so instead I’m surfing Ravelry (are you there yet?) and blogging and figuring out what I’m going to order for dinner because cooking?  Not on tonight’s agenda.

Christmas is com…(shut yo’ mouth!): nablopomo 9/30

Christmas is com…(shut yo’ mouth!): nablopomo 9/30

As I said in my 8 weird things meme, I’m a compartmentalizer (which Firefox doesn’t recognize as a word. Fie on you, fickle Firefox!). This quirk extends to seasons and holidays. Meaning, quite simply, that I feel a bit of rage when I see Christmas decorations before we’ve gone trick-or-treating. I would be just fine if nothing went up before December 1, and so would retail, despite what majormegaconglomocorp’s marketing department would have us believe. Yes, I’ve started knitting gifts already, but that is simply good planning, and I one day hope to have, in the spirit of the Yarn Harlot, a “long-range planning” box, a box of knitted gifts that can be dug into & called upon as a resource at the holidays, to alleviate stress and stave off carpal tunnel for another year.

But in addition to the usual flurry of fake white Christmas trees already on display at Target and the dread that “Jingle Bells” will be piped through the intercom at the grocery store long before Thanksgiving has come & gone, I have another Christmas worry: lead. Boogermonkey doesn’t have any battery-operated toys, nor does he have a lot of plastic toys, and his favorite things to play with are the Tupperware from my kitchen and his unpainted wooden blocks, but his birthday is coming and so is Christmas. I’ve told family “no gifts” for his birthday, and we’ve I’ve imposed a “no China” rule for Christmas, but does that really solve anything? If toys are made in Indonesia or Mauritania or Djibouti, are they any safer than the toys made in China? And as WhyMommy over at Toddler Planet pointed out (I didn’t know this, but it doesn’t surprise me), the CPSC only has ONE full-time toy tester. ONE GUY. The neurological safety of millions of children lies in the hands of ONE GUY. That unnerves me a bit.

So what, as the parent bloggers network asks today, am I doing about this? Well, other than the “no China” rule, I’m going to talk to my family about etsy.com. TONS of cool hand-crafted toys, made in fair conditions by parents (and non-parents) making money doing what they love. Hand-knit robots, hand-sewn dolls, carved wooden trains free of lead-based paint, and all without the guilt that a child hardly older than my own son was potentially exploited in the process.

Store-bought toys can be tested with the same lead-testing kits people use in their homes. It’s up to us, as parents and friends of parents, to be vigilant. The Consumers Union, known best for Consumer Reports, has started the “Get the Lead out” campaign, which this post is part of. They want parents to spread the word on being safe shoppers, and I’m doing my part.

Non-mainstream toys, things like play silks, soft dolls, plain wooden blocks, and hand-knit items like finger puppets and tea sets are wonderful alternatives to the branded, marketed, overhyped crap that the kids are inundated with and soon forget about or break. While I don’t agree with the Waldorf philosophy of education, Waldorf-based toys are a great starting place for hand-made, safe gifts. Make your own art sets (because some of those have been recalled lately, too) with high-quality supplies, fill an old wine crate with favorite books from your childhood (thrift stores and second-hand book stores are great for this!), make a dress-up box from an old suitcase & stuff found at thrift stores, make a toy kitchen from an old entertainment unit, or supplement an existing toy kitchen with small pots, pans, wooden spoons, etc. found at a thrift shop or dollar store.

And what about gifts that aren’t things at all? Why not go in with your sisters to get your dinosaur-loving nephew a lifetime membership to the science museum? Why not give your art-loving granddaughter a set of pottery lessons at the community center? Take your kids to a basketball game, treat your niece to a spa day, bring your airplane-loving children to the aerospace museum. Memberships to the zoo, the children’s museum, the art museum, OMSI, etc. would be appreciated far longer than a talking character-of-the-moment doll that will do nothing but annoy the parents and bore the child after a week (or less). Music lessons, art classes, swim lessons, gymnastics lessons, soccer camp, etc. are all things that many parents would love their children to have, but can’t afford. It’s all a matter of ignoring the glossy brochures and toy catalogs, shutting off the commercials that run during daytime TV & kids’ programs, and being creative with it. Yes, it will take more time than popping in to Target on December 21 & grabbing whatever’s on sale, but it will be appreciated more, and there’s no chance of the science museum being recalled for breakable parts.

“Now there’s a bumper sticker for ya”

“Now there’s a bumper sticker for ya”

Welcome to 2007.

I had a post almost done but I decided it was shite.

Instead, I bring you this year’s goals (not resolutions, just stuff I’m aiming to do/complete)

  • Finish my master’s degree
  • Keep a log of & review every book & movie I see this year
  • Watch at least one movie every week & read at least one book every month*
  • Resolve, with professional assistance and in partnership with Llamaface, the issues plaguing our marriage.**
  • Get the “close to the vest” project off the ground.

I started writing this yesterday morning. Life happens, apartments need to be cleaned, etc., so I’m posting it today.

In keeping with #2 up there: The Breakup. Vince Vaugh is Gary, an emotionally stunted bus tour guide director in Chicago. Jennifer Aniston is his girlfriend Brooke, a type-A art gallery manager who just wants him to want to do the dishes and take her to the ballet. Brooke has enough of Gary’s refusal to do anything she asks if it’s not something he wants and breaks up with him, but oh! they live in the same condo! Back & forth immaturity and “getting even” ensues, until Gary’s best friend kicks him in the head (metaphorically speaking – Brooke’s brother does it literally). Do they get back together? (spoiler)I liked the ending because it’s not the typical romantic comedy “all’s well that ends well happily ever after” crap. They really do break up, Brooke really does summon the balls to say “no, it’s too little too late,” but the movie really needed to end there. The very last scene, where they run into each other on the street? To quote Llamaface, “It’s like letting the air out of a balloon.” It was awkward at best, it felt rushed and stilted. The original ending (marked “alternate ending” on the DVD) was even worse, but not by much.(spoiler)

We started watching Brokeback Mountain last night, and we’ll finish that tonight when I get back from Stitch & Bitch (local peeps: join us at Laughing Planet on 8th & Blair from 6-8. We meet every Tuesday!). I’m getting as much of the HUGE order done as I can, because I’d really like that to be done by the end of this month. The lady who placed the order is being really understanding about how long it’ll take, but I’d like to get it out of the way so I can start working on more personal stuff, yanno? In any case, big things are brewing in my brain.

Oh, and for those of you who asked, yes, Llama & I did make it to the Satin Love show. Tonya and her mom entertained Booger (who refused to sleep, little bugger) and fashioned a baby new year toga out of an old t-shirt because I forgot the diaper bag at home (bad mommy moment) and I/we are forever grateful for it.

Also: I want/need one of these hanging over my desk. I’m thinking a large wooden or papier-mache (pretend all the symbols are in all the right places) ball would be awesome. Who wants to make me one? Maybe a trade? I certainly don’t have the time/energy to do it myself, but that would be AWESOME. I think there might be globes at the dollar store.


*Between knitting, Boogermonkey, keeping the house together, my master’s project, the “close-to-the-vest” project, and a potential part-time job, I’m not sure when I’ll get any time to read, but I do want to get Michael Chabon‘s newest book when it comes out in May. I also have three Laurie Notaro books (I Love Everybody, We Thought You Would Be Prettier, and The Idiot Girls’ Action Adventure Club) from Llama, Christmas presents that don’t suck :)
**As one can discern from past posts, Llama hasn’t been the best mate. He didn’t read the blog until a few nights ago, and what I wrote here helped him realize just how much of a shit he’d been being. He has since mended his behavior (brought me flowers last night – pink roses – hasn’t complained about changing Booger’s diapers, and lots of other little changes that add up to him being a recognizable version of his former better self), but we still have a lot of emotional healing to do. The biggest part of that is the lack of attraction on my end – I don’t feel any romantic or sexual or sensual attraction to him (and yes, I’ve talked to him about this, I’m not telling the blogosphere anything he doesn’t already know), and I’m not sure it’s possible to get any of that back. The initial energy between us was really strong, but somewhere along the way it dissipated, and I’m not sure it’s possible to recreate something that was out of my control in the first place. He’s agreed to counseling, which we’ll start next week when the UO counseling center is open again for the term, and we have a lot to talk about. In any case, we’re trying and that’s the best we can hope for right now.

I’M A WINNER!

I’M A WINNER!
Every morning, the local classic rock station plays this game “bundle of Beatles,” whereby they play three Beatles songs and give a prize to the first caller who correctly identifies all three.  This morning’s prize was tickets to see Satin Love Orchestra at the Hilton in Eugene on New Year’s Eve and I WON!  Now, I have to find a babysitter.  Local peeps: want to spend a calm night in my apartment, making sure no one steals my kid?  We’ll provide dinner (chinese?  pizza?  Pita Pit?  You pick.) and a little cash.  Don’t have plans?  Now you do!  Watch the ball drop and fall asleep with my cats curled warmly at your feet.  If you know me well enough to offer up yourself as someone eligible for this offer, you have my phone number.  Call me.  PLEAAAAAAAAAASE.

Oh, and did I mention New Year’s Eve is my anniversary?  Yeah.  It is.

Over the river and through the storm, to mother-in-law’s house we go

Over the river and through the storm, to mother-in-law’s house we go

Oy vey. Christmas Day is here and we drove from Cottage Grove to Portland (approx. 150 miles) last night in the horrid, horrid rain. No white Christmas for us here in the Willamette Valley. Little Llamabrother has convinced me to let him learn how to drive stick on Molly, my poor abused Dodge Neon (Hate. That. Car.). Llama Mama got Boogermonkey this leapfrog caterpillar alphabet toy thing that will be staying here; Llamaface broke the news to her that I don’t “do” battery-operated toys, so she’s ok with that, but man that thing is fucking ANNOYING. And it has a safety feature in phonics mode: if you push the F and the K too close together (so to make FUH-KKKK), it will GIGGLE AT YOU. LEAP FROG CENSORS YOUR CHILDREN FROM FREE EXPRESSION. Ha, just kidding, they’re protecting poor innocent ears from vulgarity and naughtiness and SIN. In any case, it’s been hidden because otherwise I was going to put a hot poker through my eye just to relieve the pain.

I won’t talk about gifts in specifics (tacky), but let’s say Llama’s to me was a 7 on the overall scale and that’s the best I can hope for at this point. Also: Crown Royal makes for a much better holiday, as NASTY as that shit is. Two years of not drinking has turned me into a one-drink drunk, fanTAStic. One shot and I stopped caring that it’s rude to tell your grandmother to stop harping on your mother and just enjoy the damned holiday for once. Yes, that’s right, I told Nana to back off when she kept going on and on (and on and on and on and on and FUCKING ON OH MY GOD MAKE IT STOP) about the size of Mom’s new jacket and how dare she get an XL just because she has boobs, how ridiculous is that and look at those shoulders, they’re hanging off her arms and why couldn’t she just get a medium and leave it unzipped and that girl (me) is smart like the Chinese. After a while, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I love her, but she’s miserable and needs to learn when to stop hurting people with her words. Of course, at 80 years old there’s not much unlearning to be done; that’s just how she is. *sigh*

In the spirit of the holiday…

In the spirit of the holiday…
A week until Christmas, yay.  Gifts are purchased and/or created, all but a few are wrapped, have found a pie variety at Safeway that contains no dairy, have downed 1/2 a gallon of Silk Soy Nog in 24 hours (gluttony is my biggest sin, followed closely by lust, and I’m ok with that), and Disney has claimed Santa belongs to them.  No, seriously.  Now, we don’t do Santa in our house, but I fully acknowledge (and plan to teach Boogermonkey) that Santa is a symbol of the Christmas season, the personification of giving, the anthropomorphization of generosity, etc.  My mother poses as “Shorty the Elf” (she’s 5’2″) every year (except last year because Nana was so sick/I had Boogermonkey at the end of November) and passes out gifts with various charity organizations.  When I was in high school, this was mortally embarrassing, not because of the philantropy – I did plenty of that myself, but because of how short her skirt was/how heavy the makeup was/how jingly her homemade crocheted elf shoe covers were.  Doing this stuff brings my mom all kinds of joy, and every year we give a gift or 3 from the Tree of Joy, even though our own Christmas is usually sparse and gifts often come from the Dollar Tree.  This year, though I could scarcely afford it, I gave to Doctors without Borders and Planned Parenthood.  In doing so, I hope to make life better somehow for someone somewhere, and I’d like to be able to give more next year.  Maybe a small amount each month, or a large amount depending on when I get a job, right?