AND We'rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre Offffffffffff

We head for the Sunshine State today. Kip wants me to mention that we're leaving the usual methods of protection in place at Chez Veasey: two headed dogs, nests of cobras, huge boulders that chase you down hallways-you get the picture.

That well researched Itinerary I swore I would create is now a few scrawled notes on the back of an envelope. Expectations for careful and concise packing went up in smoke as I ran through the apartment at 1 a.m. this morning on a QUEST FOR FLIP FLOPS. And don't even ask about the carry ons--I'm throwing a pack of cheetos and a PEOPLE magazine in the kid's backpack and we're hitting the road.

Neither child of mine is completely well and things have piled up at work BUT COME HELL OR HIGH WATER WE WILL HAVE FUN. Pray for Us.

In my absence, I am going to have GUEST BLOGGERS! Hopefully all 3 of my readers will make a posting! If you would like to be included as a guest blogger-simply send the blog to me at LVMud@aol.com If you'd like to include a picture, please send it in a separate email.

I asked Christine-President of the Our Name Is Blog fanclub-- to do this-and in the 2 years I have been writing this blog this is the first time I have ever gotten such a response to a request to guest post:


OMG!! YES! YES! YES!!! I would LOVE to! I am completely at your beck and call! My schedule is wide open! J

This is just such an honor! This is WAY better than meeting the Queen of England!! WOW!! I am at a total loss for words!

Christine J


I have never met Christine but something makes me sure I would like her. WATCH AND LEARN PEOPLE.

Flemville

Flemville: just to the left of fluville. Life here pretty much sucks eggs. Our entire living room is one giant aerobed. Used tissues, emergency throw up receptacles, and stiff washcloths litter the rug. Spongebob is on 24 hour watch-and a cherry popsicle is what's for dinner tonight.

One of these days I may have to do HARD TIME for truency. In New York City, a child is allowed to miss 18 days of school before they THROW THE PARENTS IN PRISON. Jesse missed 27 days of Pre-K due to my "IT DOESN'T MATTER-IT'S JUST PRE-K" mentality which so easily translated into "IT DOESN'T MATTER IT'S JUST KINDERGARTEN" and has grown to become "IT DOESN'T MATTER--IT'S JUST SCHOOL!!" (Note to Aron: the views expressed here are not necessarily the views of the PTA. The PTA and its members accept no responsibility for the statements made here in this blog nor shall such statements reflect upon the views and opinions held by members of the PTA...The board members of the PTA are fine upstanding citizens who can do no wrong and will never appear in an expose in the NY Times...OKAY ALREADY?)

So here is what happens... We schedule an "unauthorized family vacation" because Kip and I firmly believe that a trip to Disneyland is EDUCATIONAL and therefore worthwhile. We believe in exposing our children to History! Fairies! Rampant Capitalism! Riding the Roaring Rapids is a LIFE EXPERIENCE that you can't get from a book. A tour of Epcot is better than any social studies class. Tink is our greatest teacher.

I don't know what higher power this upsets; most likely one that listens to NPR and only lets their kids eat organic food. But each time we have done this: hording and saving our absences throughout the year ("you'll go in, say 'here', throw up in the waste basket and we're good...") karma has bitten us in the butt with a MAJOR ILLNESS prior to the scheduled trip. Last year it was coxacie (damn the spelling) that kept Jesse out for SIX DAYS before our 4 day getaway to the Contemporary Hotel. THAT WAS SEPTEMBER. I'm lucky I didn't end up in an orange jumpsuit. Now Jesse has gotten the flu that we swore we were going to get the shot for but never quite got around to getting--and as his fever rages 102, 103 and birthday parties get cancelled and absences acrue, I shake my fist at the skies and say "COME HELL OR HIGHWATER WE WILL BE RIDING THE PETER PAN RIDE SATURDAY MORNING NO MATTER WHAT."

Spring Ahead

Dear Powers That Be,

I am writing to officially protest against DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME. If this letter is not 100% coherent it is because I AM TIRED. I knew when I woke up at 6 am this morning that it was REALLY 5 AM. And it was dark. I mean pitch black. So my question to you is: where is the daylight I am supposed to be saving? Because personally: I SLEEP AT NIGHT SO I DON'T GIVE A HOOT ABOUT AN EXTRA HOUR IN THE EVENING. And have you ever tried to put children to sleep while it is light outside?

Sure, sure, I LOVE it when it's October and I am putting the kids to bed at 8 (knowing it is really 9) and sleeping until what I know is seven o'clock even if the clock reads six. So I propose we go THAT way-twice a year. Works for me. Daylight is way over-rated anyway. That's why tanning salons were invented.

Respectfully,
Tired Mom.

Dear Tired Mom-

We would respond to your Email, but we are currently really busy with the Governor of your fine state. He didn't have a great day today, either. We have forwarded your complaint to a Higher Power.

Kindest Regards,
Powers That Be


Dear Higher Power,

Ok-now I am seriously pissed. We were late for school, I had a crappy day at work, and neither of my children wanted dinner at 6 pm BECAUSE THEIR BODIES KNEW IT WAS ONLY FIVE. Everything is totally discombobulated and I don't do well with change. Let me make myself totally clear: THIS SUCKS. Nothing could be worse than this day!

Please respond asap.
Really Freeking Tired Mom


Dear RFTMom,

I have been busy with the whole Governor of New York thing, but did want to stop for a moment and respond to your Email. The stomach flu we sent your child's way is of the 24 hour variety, the repetitive vomiting usually ceases after the seventh hour. Of course, given the time change--it will feel like eight.

All the Best,
HP

The Blog that Never Was

Some topics are just best not blogged about.
P.S. HI DAD

I've Got Friends in Low Places

Behold David Kramer.

You may know him as a WORLD FAMOUS ARTIST. We like to think of him as THE GUY WHO GOT LUCKY ENOUGH TO MARRY SUSAN MITCHELL (Who by the way...is in the Whitney Bi-Annual tomorrow night! Imagine that! Little Susie Mitchell at the WHITNEY! Ummm...what was I writing about again? O yeah...David.)

Behold David Kramer yet again. We also know him as THE GUY WE GET DRUNK WITH QUITE A LOT.

You can get to know him too!! David will be featured on tonight's episode of THE APPRENTICE (That's Celebrity Apprentice!) tonight at 9:00 EST. A team of celebrities will attempt to sell a gallery full of his fabulous artwork. This should have been as easy as selling crack to some of David's former friends--but alas, his team included that dreadful Omarosa--so if this turns out to be THE WORST SLAUGHTER IN THE ENTIRE HISTORY OF THE APPRENTICE I am just saying it is no fault of the artist--whose work is really great. So when the show is over, if you have a few grand laying around, I think you should buy a painting, or two. Daddy needs a new six pack.

Telling The Tooth

I have given birth to two children. Childbirth was PLEASURABLE compared to what I have endured in terms of having two teeth crowned. This is my dentist. I like to call him The King of Pain. He is a sneaky little bugger. Just this morning, during yet another two hour appointment that involved doing horrible things to my gums and sticking plastic goop filled molds into my mouth, he managed to surprise me mid sentence by sticking what appeared to be a caulk gun into my mouth and getting an impression of how my teeth clicked together while avoiding the complaining and fretting over the procedure which would have occurred if he had said: "Now open your mouth so I can stick this caulk gun into it."

Poor Deprived Children

In New York, sledding has always meant that we bundle up, hop onto an expensive piece of plastic and Mom and Dad PULL YOU AROUND AN EMPTY PARKING LOT. Yipee! This has been Jesse's version of Winter Sports for the past SEVEN YEARS.

This weekend we found ourselves IN THE COUNTRY (wayyyyyyyyyy out in the sticks in a little place on the map called Connecticutt.) And in the Great Wilderness that is Hartford-we found these things called HILLS. Apparently they are like these things called Mountains, only smaller--about the size of a Korean Deli actually, if it is a landmark building and the city has not let someone build thirteen stories on top of it... But I digress.

We put the children into snowsuits that were two sizes too small for them ( very short clothing season here in The cit-ay--you can buy snowsuits in September and in two weeks the selection at stores has gone to cruisewear and usually i count on my Sister in Law, Sigy, to send me her boy's cast offs but once they crossed age 9 she has let them run around in windbreakers all year long BUT I DIGRESS AGAIN). We covered the four inches of skin visible over the tops of Jesse's boots with a pair of Kip's socks and we were off!

Here is the DOWN SIDE to sledding in the country on these things called Hills. Someone has to carry that sled BACK UP THE HILL. Thankfully, God invented Fathers for that purpose.

YOUR child

Walking Home From FAMILY FRIDAY This Morning

KIP: Why does Jesse do That Thing at the end of every presentation for parents?
ME: What thing?
KIP: That semi-epileptic fit thing.
ME: You mean where he flails his arms, makes weird facial expressions and takes 20 bows?
KIP: Yes, That Thing.
ME: I don't know. Maybe he takes after his father and is a Relentless Attention Seeker.
KIP: Or maybe he just likes to mimic his mother after a shot of tequila.

Spoiler

I was recently reading an article about how many of today's parents do everything they can to shield their child from life's natural disappointments. Then I Came to My Senses and re-read last month's issue of PEOPLE, which made me feel much better since I AM NOT LYNN SPEARS.

I am an INDULGENT PARENT. I know this, I accept this, and I spoil my children even MORE in an effort to MAKE UP FOR IT.

The other day Annie greeted me at the door sobbing. It seems that during school, she had been chatting instead of listening during a very Important game of Pre K Bingo, and as a result the entire class was given cupcakes while she was not.

Well this just CHAFFED MY ASS. In my mind, the punishment for not listening during Bingo should be....NOT WINNING BINGO. She is 4. Withholding sugar from a 4 year old is like telling someone like me that the liquor store is closed: IT'S JUST NOT FAIR. And so I did what any self respecting parent who wants their child to learn a lesson does: I offered to buy her CASES OF CUPCAKES. But that didn't stop the tears, the sniffles, the PAIN, THE AGONY, and she only settled down after I agreed to buy her a car. And of course--Talk To The Teacher.

I marched into school with her hand in hand the next day, prepared to tell her teacher What's What and How Dare You Not Give My Baby Girl A Cupcake and What's The Big Deal About Listening In School Anyway. The teacher met us at the door. I could tell she had powered up her light saber and her phasers were set to stun. We both took 10 paces backwards.

"Life is HARD" were the first words she said--spoken to Annie but directed at me; "It is HARD, sometimes you will be DISAPPOINTED." I ducked, faked left--the words "Cupcake Police" poised on the tip of my tongue. Then she got down at Annie's level, took her by the arms and said "But TODAY...TODAY you will EARN a cupcake. I know that Today you will be a really great listener, and will be having a cupcake this afternoon."

At this, Annie had an epiphany of sorts; "IS TODAY TOMORROW???" She asked--as if she COULD NOT BELIEVE THAT THIS BRAND NEW SPANKING DAY WAS FULL OF HOPE AND THE POSSIBILITY OF PINK FROSTING. And she put her tiny hand into the hand of the teacher and they went into the classroom together, into the realm of endless possibilities and what could turn out to be a Really Great Day.

Random Thoughts for a Wednesday

Many of you have asked how I balance a demanding position with a Ginormous company and mothering two small children. One of the ways I do it is by making REALLY SMART CHOICES; like becoming President of the PTA. Because if you just keep piling the stress on, at some point it Holds You Together. I'm sure a good pair of Spanx would do the same thing, but I like to think I am a solid bundle of contracted nerves...with the occasional jiggle.

This morning I had a PTA meeting which means I spend about 40 minutes trying everything on in my closet in an effort to find THE MAGICAL OUTFIT THAT WILL MAKE ME APPEAR LIKE I AM NOT FAT. I keep thinking I have found it everytime I visit Talbots-but in the harsh light of the morning before speaking in front of a group of people, it appears that: NO I HAVE NOT.

I don't blog about the PTA because 1) many of my secret readers are members (Hi Susan! Hi Robin!) and also because 2) if I told you what Really went on, I would have to kill you. So while the story of the bi-polar mom who HECKLED ME LIKE I WAS DOING STANDUP AT CAROLINES would have made a really great blog.....I must move on.

Annie has named all of her stuffed animals. Which is cute, but problematic when she says things to me like: "Where is Kapooch? Please bring me Kapooch." And when I hold up the stuffed penguin and she says "KAPOOCH DAMN YOU MOTHER I SAID KAPOOCH, KAPOOOOOOOOOCH, KAPOOOOOOOOOCH" the only thing I can do is frantically paw through hundreds of beanie babies wondering if Kapooch could be the pink poodle or the silver terrier or the "chi-wow-wa." It gets even harder when she asks me to bring her BOB.

Annie has also taken to watching Boomerang in Spanish for half and hour before bed. Boomerang is a cartoon network that plays retro toons; Flintstones, Jetsons, Tom & Jerry, Scooby Doo. The problem is that she asks me to sit beside her and WATCH WITH ME MOMMY which would be hard enough in English, but when you are listening to Yogi Bear hablo with his amigos, it is almost unbearable. Maybe I am just not smarter than the average bear. I knew I should not have taken French. It's not even helpful when Pepe Le Peu is on BECAUSE SHE IS WATCHING IT IN SPANISH.

Pawing through the stuffed dogs, finding Yogi unbearable: I guess blondes really do have more puns.

The Breast of Times

Also: please go to hungersite.com to click for free mamogrammies for everyone.

Resting In Peace

Actual conversation at our house this morning.

Two children tussle over a wii console.

JESSE: MOM! Annie just ruined my game!
ANNIE: I did not!
JESSE: She clicked on HOME in the middle of my game Mom! I AM NEVER PLAYING WITH YOU AGAIN ANNIE.
ANNIE: I'm sorry. (pause) Do you still love me Jesse?
(Long uncomfortable pause in which I realize I should probably step in)

ME: OF COURSE your brother still loves you Annie-he will ALWAYS love you--that's what sisters and brothers do. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER FOREVER, no matter what. They are your family. In fact--one day when we get very old-Mommy and Daddy will die, but it will be ok because you will still have each other.

ANNIE: And we'll be able to do WHATEVER we want! (Jumps excitedly on couch)
JESSE: Can I have your room then, Mom?

Home again Home again Jiggetty Jig

Because every household needs Mrs. O Leary's cow bell.

OFF TO CHICAGO

Kip says not to let you know that I will be away until Friday,
or to tell you my flight number,
or to cartoon my street address
and let you know when my children will be vulnerable,
as well as inform you of the location
of my good jewelry and
my family silver.

HOWEVER, he says, if you want the cat-
he's here at the offices.
He will make you a good pet
if you don't mind that he scratches the heck
out of any piece of furniture you own,
is a cat nip addict and will meow for hours,
and likes to sleep on a computer keyboard.
His name is Lenny
and if you steal him
we really won't be mad.

More REAL Mail

Got this Email this morning:
The following message was sent from ournameismud.com by Emanuele:
Hi i'm italian boy ,can i have the cup with the picture where there's written PRINCESS??

Dear Emanuele,
I don't know about Italy, but here in Chelsea you MOST CERTAINLY CAN--although I have a few friends who do prefer the word 'Queen." Would you like that in pink?
Ciao
Lorrie

We've Got Mail

It's time to roll out the old mailbag at OUR NAME IS MUD.

This month's theme seems to be SHAMELESS BEGGING. Witness the following REAL Email from JL:

Hello,
i'm desperately seeking your "Feline Groovy" cat platter (the one with all the lavendar paisleys on it)...here's the story...YES i know it's been discontinued however i would call just about anywhere and do just about anything to REPLACE mine....my 12 year old daugther bought that for me 2 years ago for my birthday...it's one of my FAVORITE things on this earth!....NOT ONLY because she picked it out and bought it for me but ALSO because it's just one of the DAMN COOLEST and FUNNIEST things i own (right up there with my "Poodle with a Mohawk" poster).... the other day a friend ran into the wall on which it hung right in the center of my diningroom and broke mine....i have spent AT LEAST 18 hours the last 3 days trying to find it ANYWHERE ....from ebay to phoning all the stores i could find that carry the original "our name is mud" pieces.... i'm not rich, i'm on social security disability after a wonderful life as a college professor...and my daughter and i decorate our house with things that make us laugh and smile every time we see them to keep our spirits up... i am DESPERATE to replace this WONDERFUL and SO HIGHLY ADORED platter!!!! do you have ANY suggestions or ANY help for me???..
my daughter is chipping in her ENTIRE piggy bank to help me replace this funny wonderful piece in our home...
can you help?
thank you SO much for your time and consideration!
i am SO hoping to hear from you!!!
(Name withheld because despite what most people say i am a nice person)


I get an Email like this Every Week. Last week, someone's son accidentally broke a dog bowl and DID NOT SLEEP FOR THREE DAYS because they could not find a replacement. Everyone who writes me USES CAPITAL LETTERS SO I KNOW HOW VERY VERY URGENT IT IS.

What most people don't realize is that when they write me Emails like this: I OBSESS ABOUT THEM! THE GUILT!! THE ANGST!! THE SORROW!! Good Lord, God gave me some minimal talent and I am going to use it to make you folks happy. Except now I have a Boss. And Deadines. But forget about that...someone is DESPERATE FOR POTTERY! I MUST HEED THE CALL.

On the one hand: I am so Blessed, because even though they don't Comment On My Blog--MUD does have some true die hard fans who, for example, hang their pottery on the wall instead of using it. On the other hand, I do sometimes wish people saw the Ephemeral Nature of My Work. Don't they realize that breaking pots is part of the whole Cosmic Deal: Otherwise, WHAT WILL THOSE ARCHEOLOGISTS DIG UP? Those guys love SHARDS.

If you are wondering what I do when i get an email like this--here's the truth--I usually make the item for the person, especially when children are involved. Unless they don't say PLEASE. Pottery Breakers who don't use the Magic Word get a Whole Lot of Nothin. This is not the "Returns Dept." of Lands End, ya know.

Fashion with Annie

At least her tootsies are extra warm.

This is a TRUE story

My Hands were Raw.

Happy Valentines Day 2008

LOVE TO ALL!

Angels in the Snow

We took the children
to the park
to play by moonlight
in the newly
fallen snow
Crunching through
the layers
in pink fur lined boots
Annie asks
"What makes the snow
sparkle Mommy?"
She reaches down to
try to capture
the flecks of silver
in a handful of ice.
I tell her:
"The Angels were making
art,
then God cleared off the table:
Everyone likes glitter
Until you are the one
who has to clean it up."

What's on my TO DO List Today

Such Betrayal

I can paint a Rainbow

I thought briefly about naming my children Sienna and Teal

What is Really Happening in the Corner Office?

Most of the time I can't open it anyway.

Public Service Announcement

There is no Celebrity Rehab for unknown designers

The Fabulous Life of a Designer

I have pressure just like you.

I Also Cannot Create a Resin Santa

Moment of Total Self Doubt. Always happens when the design deadline is just days away.

Jesse's Arm

I've gotten a lot of Email asking how Jesse's arm is doing since THE THIRD SURGERY. The answer is; much better, thanks. He can do many things, including type on a keyboard. Unfortunately, he still cannot turn his arm over-which rules out dancing the Macarena and playing golf. He is going to make some lucky lady a FINE HUSBAND one day.

We went for another doctor's appointment and found that he had some free floating calcium deposits in the elbow despite every bargain I tried to make with the Man Upstairs. The Good News is that these do not appear to be bone spurs, so until we get word that they have attached themselves to the radius, no more surgery for now.

The doctor did say Jesse would have to "Go back into the brace." Which was news to us, as HE HAD NEVER HAD A BRACE IN THE FIRST PLACE. Might have been a little medical "oops" there, but we did not pursue it--being all wrapped up in gratitude in the words "Not Yet" which were given in response to "Does He Need Another Surgery?"

So Brace Guy came in and fit Jesse for a custom made cast like thing which will slowly rotate the arm and also attract a lot of attention from the chicks at the same time. Life is Good.

More New Product

I would tell you a really funny story about the inspiration for this frame.........ummmmm............ummmmmm.......shoot, what was it now?

New Product

Personally, I'm not big on desk clutter. It might be that I don't have a lot of room for it on my own desk--what with the jars of peanut butter, empty yogurt cups and dirty spoons. But I am a fan of personal expression at the workplace-so I made these desk signs for like minded people. When we first printed the Enesco version of our catalog, they labeled the picture Desk "Plagues" which of course hurt their initial sales--the average person not wanting to place a little Bubonic beside their Mac.

I myself have several signs in my office including the "Work With Me People" pictured here. My others are:

Go To Your Studio and Make Stuff.

No Matter How Hard You Try You Can't Baptize Cats.

Easy to Please....Sometimes

and

Nobody Likes A Smartass.

You Know You"re A Mom When

You Know You're a Mother When ...

You count the sprinkles on each kid's cupcake to make sure they're equal.

You have time to shave only one leg at a time.

You hide in the bathroom to be alone.

Your kid throws-up and you catch it.

Someone else's kid throws up at a party. You keep eating.

As you cling to the high moral ground on toy weapons; your child chews his toast into the shape of a gun.

You hope ketchup is a vegetable, since it's the only one your child eats.

You find yourself cutting your husband's sandwiches into cute shapes.

You hear your mother's voice coming out of your mouth when you say, "NOT in your good clothes!"

You stop criticizing the way your mother raised you.

You donate to charities in the hope that your child won't get that disease.

You hire a sitter because you haven't been out with your husband in ages, then spend half the night checking on the kids.

You use your own saliva to clean your child's face.

You say at least once a day, "I'm not cut out for this job", but you know you wouldn't trade it for anything".

Start a Business

I receive numerous requests from people for information about how to start a crafts business. I am always happy to help, and I am thrilled to watch people I know become entrepreneurs. Now you can have that same feeling. www.kiva.org is an amazing organization that helps people help other people start small businesses. My friend Susan just gave $25 to three Peruvian women trying to start a grocery store and felt "FABULOUS." You don't need to make a donation: you can make a LOAN--how cool is that?

www.kiva.org

Just Some Stuff I'm Thinking About

It seems that Jesse can only get ear infections while we are out of town, and only after 11 pm at night. It happened again this weekend while we were away in Hartford, and we had to ask the concierge where the nearest Emergency Room was BECAUSE I COULD JUST DIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE FROM THE PAIN MOMMY. Earlier in the evening he had told me he felt dizzy and I told him he was Just Hungry. Put another check next to my name on the Mommy of the Year ballot; I treat an ear infection with a piece of chicken and if you get strep throat I might give you CAKE.

Annie is taking the Big Test on Friday that will determine if she is eligible for the Gifted and Talented Kindergarten class. I am annoyed because her class is having a Pot Luck supper on Thursday, and now I will have to spend all night making sure she lays off the sauce. I'm thinking there is no way she will score in the 95th percentile if she's hungover. Hopefully she will do well-as we have been having her tutored so that she understands some of the foreign concepts on the standardized test. Concepts like a "A Dad in a Business Suit", or a "Backyard".

Things at work have been crazy busy in a "Lay Awake and Stare at the Bedroom Ceiling Wishing your Mind Would Just Shut Up for Awhile" kind of a way. Atlanta was very fun--the eight hours it took me to get home including an unscheduled stop in Norfolk Virginia--not so much. As usual, the people from Enesco were wonderful. I met the artist who makes my favorite line- Pumpkinseeds by Janelle Berryman. If I ever have a house and it comes with a basement or an attic, I'm getting me lots of her stuff. That's another concept for Annie: "Seasonal Decorating."

Who Are You Voting For?

I am drinking out of the one on the right. My tribute to my Brother in Law is on the left.

I am voting for Change.

ATLANTA

Please come and see me in the new Enesco showroom at Americas Mart in Suite 819, Thursday January 10th. I will be kissing babies and signing cleavage as requested. Meet me and be able to say "I had no idea she was so boring in real life."

See you soon!

Bueno New Year!

We just returned from a wonderful week in Puerto Rico. I have decided that the definition of optimism is to pack two books when you are going on vacation with two young children. But the 3 whole pages I read were very good. There is no "me" in "Island" anyway- and the whole trip was about FAMILY--Happy Birthday to my dear DeeDad, who celebrates his 36th anniversary of his 39th birthday on January 9th.

I have resolved to blog more frequently and hope I will be more successful at that resolution than I have been on other promises, she said, taking a sip of wine.

Check out the interview I did for www.creativenachos.com when you get a chance. Thanks Natasha!

Puerto Rico Bound

We leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow for a week in Puerto Rico. It will be interesting to see what I have managed to pack between glasses of wine. My heavy drinking was justified by the fact that trying on bathing suits immediately following the holidays...IS JUST WRONG.

I have left seven Rotweillers, Elsie the fat cat, and a Fur Real pony named Butterscotch in charge of the apartment while we're gone.
Happy New Year All!

Feed The World

Here is a really FUN way to feed the world and improve your vocabulary

www.freerice.com

Grains of rice are donated each time you correctly guess the definition of a word.

Rice plus vocabulary....smart really is the new skinny.

A Very Veasey Christmas

On the way to Nonnee's house, we traditionally pop THE NATIVITY STORY into the DVD player, and call it our version of Sunday School. We have begun this practice ever since the Christmas when DeeDad asked Jesse whose birthday we were celebrating and the child enthusiastically answered; "Mine! Mine!" and we had a Dickens of a time explaining why there were presents but no cake.

This year, as the familiar opening music began to play, Jesse turned to Annie and said "I know how this ends. HE DIES."

Which means Spring is not so far away....

Speaking of Writing Children's Books...

Free Floating Angst

I become too busy to blog. Kind of like the way I put excercise off EVERY YEAR until January. As if, magically, in January I WILL HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD FOR THE STAIRMASTER. Blogging for me is a finger excercise--a way to clear the old creative pipes--because my gosh; those witty mugs don't just make themselves, after all.

My friend Natasha has started a website called Creative Nachos www.creativenachos.com and she SHAMES me because she faithfully creates new posts--like a 9 page hiaku, or an in depth inteview with Neitzche--three days a week, like clockwork, and she has a BABY to boot. Kind of makes my cutting and pasting from Santa dot come look a wee bit lame, no?

And so I am reduced to this post: random, free floating thoughts swirling around in my head like the dregs of Pinot Grigio in a glass...AS IF I would ever leave a swallow. Please...you know I lick the bottom.

This is a TRUE STORY. This morning on my way to the dentist, a man walked up beside me making loud duck calls. He was obviously from Planet Wacko; and wore a jaunty cap with three long Quail feathers. But this is not what was unusual. What caught my jaded New Yorker's attention was the fact that a police car parked two blocks ahead at a corner answered each duck call with short toots of its siren. CAW CAW went the duck man. WEE WEE went the police car. CAW CAW went the duck man. WEE WEE went the police car.

My gosh, I really need to write that children's book one of these days.

Is it Hot or is it Just Me?

In One day Al Gore is going to address the UN Climate Change
Conference in Bali, Indonesia. At his urging, (OK-he didn't call me or anything, but just the same...) I've signed an
important petition showing I support his important call for a visionary treaty to address the climate crisis. I hope you will too.

http://climateprotect.org/standwithal

The world's elected leaders must take the steps necessary to solve global warming. It's not too late. We have the opportunity now to improve the Earth's future for our children, and their children.
Please sign the petition today. http://www.climateprotect.org/standwithal

Santa Blogs about His Weight

Santa's Blog
Milk and Cookies

Posted by Santa 1 day ago

Hello Everyone,

Santa here again, with another quick note about another topic that's recently come up: my weight. A couple of well-meaning letter-writers have pointed out that someone of my size and comportment has no business requesting milk and cookies from every household the night of Christmas Eve. They say (more or less tactfully) that I'm too fat.

To which I say: Thank you for your concern. However...

My weight suits me perfectly, for several reasons. First, it is very cold here at the North Pole. Right now, the temperature is (hold on, let me look) minus 4 degrees -- and today is relatively balmy! I invite any of you worried about my weight to live in this climate for a few days, and then talk to me about insulation. Second, related to this, consider the polar bear: I daresay no one would feel it necessary to point out to a polar bear that he or she could lose a few. (Bear Bryan, our reindeer trainer, weighs in at just under 1,000 pounds! He thinks I'm downright skinny.)

Third, my snack request has been a long-standing one that began back in the days when "milk and cookies" meant milk from healthy cows who ate grass and cookies baked with natural, wholesome ingredients -- that is, long before pesticides, BGH, trans fats, additives, and all the other poisons began appearing in our foods. So it's true that too much of that stuff is unhealthy for me. (And you, for that matter.)

So maybe it's time to update my request. This year, for the first time, I'm asking for healthy milk and cookies -- or, better yet, some sort of nutritious snack you think I'd enjoy. (My suggestion is to ask your mom or dad what they like -- parents have a pretty good sense of what adults like to snack on late at night.) Thank you!

Some other things to consider. One, it really isn't polite to point out to people your opinion about whether or not they're the right weight. And two, consider metabolism: different creatures burn food fuel at different rates, and if it works for them, that's all that matters. I myself have a high metabolism, especially on Christmas Eve. One of the elves, Kevin, is famous for eating two or three times his weight at every meal, and Kevin is no bigger than the average elf.

Oops! Speaking of food, gotta run! I'm meeting Mrs. Claus for lunch in the kitchen.

(I know what you're wondering...tomato soup!)

Love,

Santa

More of Santa's blogs at www.santa.com

Why People Should Help out With the PTA Bakesale

The people I love the best jump into work head first without dallying in the shadows and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight. They seem to become natives of that element, the black sleek heads of seals bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart, who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience, who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward, who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge in the task, who go into the fields to harvest and work in a row and pass the bags along, who stand in the line and haul in their places, who are not parlor generals and field deserters but move in a common rhythm when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud. Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust. But the thing worth doing, well done, has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil, Hopi vases that held corn are put in museums, but you know they were made to be used. The pitcher cries for water to carry and a person for work that is real.

MUD on your TV

Hello MUD fans:

Watch for us on episode 209 of AMERICAN SHOPPER tomorrow at 10 am EST. Well, actually, it will be one of our mugs--not our faces. I'm still holding out for that Pottery Talk Show, though.

We know you love that Fine Living channel!

Things to Be THANKFUL For

Happy Thanksgiving Day everyone! In no particular order, some of the things I am thankful for this holiday include:

1. The fact that they made a MOVIE from the book THE SECRET. Because if I had to READ it instead of watch it, I might have thought something like; 'this is uber boring metaphysical crap" and then BOOM I would have Created My Own Reality and the book would have sucked. Since it was a movie, I was able to get the gist of it, PLUS I had a short nap. Life Is Good. I am Practicing Gratitude. Bring on the Abundance, baby.

2. My son made it through his third surgery in three months and while it looked a bit iffy there for awhile: NO ONE VOMITED. We also discovered that the quickest way to get discharged from post op is to have a six year old throw a big Hissy Fit and claim he is DYING IN AGONY. Poof! Here is your paperwork and wheelchair, good bye. Apparently it is upsetting to the 15 other people in the recovery room..go figure.

3. We are off to Thanksgiving at my Brother In Law's house tomorrow. Or maybe not. Annie has a fever and a cough that just won't quit. I am Thankful for Zicam which promises to reduce the duration of a cold, and I am using The Secret to ensure that it works. I have the Vicks vaporizer going, I filled her with Tylenol cough and cold even though she is four and now you are not suppossed to do that, and I covered her chest in eucalyptus cream. WHERE DID I PUT THOSE DAMN LEECHES?

4. Elastic waist bands.

5. Brownie Mix. Because if we are able to go to Thanksgiving Dinner tomorrow, I will be lucky if I have any of these moist chocolate squares to arrive with. Perhaps we can stop at the deli and throw together a twinkie platter.

6. Elastic waist bands. Worth mentioning again.

7. A Customer by the name of Christine who wrote: "I must say it is truly an honor to hear from you. I admire your work and talents so much. This is like talking to a major celebrity! How amazing!" NO I AM NOT KIDDING SHE REALLY WROTE THAT. Bringing blog readership to an all time high of FIVE READERS.

8. Did you catch where she wrote "major celebrity?"

9. The fact that I have some friends who were given a wii system as a present, but they are totally AGAINST video games..they believe video games are THE DEVIL. So that when we hit Target a few days ago after Jesse made it known this was his biggest Christmas wish, and found out that they are sold out EVERYWHERE IN THE WORLD, I did not panic. I traded a gift certificate with my friends for the wii--they will most likely purchase sporting equipment for their kids, some books, science kits....it's pretty clear that we came out On Top. So now the box is sitting in my office, speaking in tongues and flicking that forked tail. I'm hoping to lose 25 lbs by next month playing wii tennis.

10. My Family & Friends. I am so blessed in so many ways. I love you all, and I'm not just saying that because I'm drunk.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

Looming Clouds on the Horizon

This week has been eventful. On Monday, we found out that Jesse has to have ANOTHER SURGERY on his elbow. The fact that he could not turn his arm over should have been a bit of a giveaway, but I kept thinking: MAYBE THAT WILL JUST GO AWAY. It's the same kind of magical- but irrational- thinking that has compelled me keep my skinny jeans for years.

Jesse handled this news much better than I did. Initial conversations with the orthopedist, somewhat paraphrased:

ME: But he CAN'T have another surgery.
DR: Just what is it that you are so worried about Mrs. Veasey?
ME: This is his THIRD surgery in three months.
DR: I understand that, but what is it that you are worried about...specifically?
ME: His THIRD. That is Lifetime Movie kind of excessive amount of surgery.
(pause)
ME: And really, what if we just don't do it? What would be so bad about that?
DR: Ummmm...I don't know... HOW ABOUT THE FACT THAT HE WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO MOVE HIS ARM?

I can't really explain how much I dread the operation on Monday. Here are some of my fears large and small:

1. He will ask for water the morning of the operation and I will have to say NO. And since I have a hard time saying that word to things like "Can I play with the sharp knives" and "Can we stay up til 11 pm watching SpongeBob and eating gummy bears in your bed" I dread telling my baby that if he is thirsty he will need to suck it up.

2. We will wait for hours before the surgery in a curtained room with a single chair, surrounded by other people waiting for surgery who do not close the back of their gowns when they traipse through the place. Seriously: you will never see as many naked butts as in pre-op.

3. The moment before I put the suit on to accompany Jesse to the operating room when I think O My Gawd this is NOT going to fit over my butt and all these people are watching me put it on.

4. The moment when they place the mask over his tiny face and his eyes flutter closed and it reminds me of what he looked like the very first time they placed him in my arms and why is it is so easy to be overwhelmed by the amount of love you feel for your child WHEN THEY ARE ASLEEP?

5. The WAIT.

6. The Recovery. Jesse's first words after the last surgery were: WHY DID YOU LET ME BREAK MY ARM MOMMY. And if I had not been fighting so hard to hold back tears, I might have told him it was his Dad's fault anyway. This year I'm packing a big red arrow and a sign that says "MOMMY is the one who always says NO to running, climbing, race car driving and risk taking of any sort."

7. The vomiting. Where, by the way, Kip is incredibly redeemed, appreciated, and loved, and I take back all of paragraph six.

8. The pain. And the way I channel Shirley McClane and think IF THAT NURSE DOESN'T GET OVER HERE WITH THAT MORPHINE IN THE NEXT MINUTE I AM GOING TO KICK HER ASS.

9. The vomiting and the pain. The hope that Power Rangers Dino Thunder will distract.

10. The recovery. No swimming, no running, no jumping, no rough housing...just the way I said I liked it. And yet, when he is lying all pale faced on the couch, I would give anything if he could be out running in sunshine.

We are blessed to have such great family and friends. And we are grateful when we can find the humor in a situation like this, knowing that there are many families who everyday deal with situations that are not as easily fixed as a broken elbow. All Will Be Well.

Pretty Bird Woman

If I were a bird I most surely would be a duck. It's the waddle, and the fact that my feet are so wide. I mean REALLY WIDE. When I take my shoes off most people assume I've slipped into some comfortable swim fins.

I just recently acknowledged the fact that I can't fit into shoes made for normal people. I purchased some very expensive, but properly fitting footwear and for the first time MY FEET DON'T HURT ALL DAY and By Gawd, tell the Whos in Whoville that Christmas is coming early!

I gathered up all the toe pinchers in my closet and found a great organization to send them to: www.soles4souls.com And it tickles me pink to know that my gently worn patent leather ballet flats are going to make this world a better place. So if you have some shoes laying around that you are wondering what to do with--send them to these guys.

And speaking of birds, I was also sent a link to a sobering story about a woman's shelter on the Standing Rock Reservation that is in need of help. Pretty Bird Woman House was named after a woman who was the victim of domestic violence. The story of this organization's struggle is very compelling--and if everyone sends just a few dollars it will make a big impact:
http://www.dailykos.com/story/2007/11/9/1544/57273. Thanks in advance to those of you who will take the time to read this story and to help.

Had I been born Native American, I am sure my name would have been Big Butt Duck Feet.

camera test

.Lenny in da house

Finally! A Halloween Picture!

I have been trying to figure out how to get a picture from my iphone onto blogger for two days now. Apple needed to make the idiot version for me: the iiphone.

Ayhow: here are the kids in costume for Halloween. Annie started the day as a Pink Power Ranger. In a class of 12 little girls, she was the only one not dressed as a Princess. At lunch "Ariel" told her that she could not sit with the girls because of her costume. I would like to say that my daughter stood her ground, called upon the feminist ideology I have been crooning to her since birth, and went all Pink Power Ranger on "Ariel's" ass. Sadly, that was not to be--here is Annie as Snow White... who as you know cleans a mean house.

Jesse made approximately 15 costume changes this year, down from 27 from last year. His final choice--made conveniently at 7 PM the night before Halloween, was to be this werewolf--which I sewed myself. Thank Goodness I live in New York City. I don't know what suburban moms do when they need a yard of fake fur at that hour of the night.

And now begins the torture of lying in bed and knowing there is an Almond Joy in a plastic pumpkin in my kitchen.

Happy Halloween

Snow White and a Werewolf/Users/lorrieveasey/Desktop/IMG_0057.JPG

Jesse's new hobby

My son has taken up photography.

Zoo Mail

Dear Wildlife Conservation Society,

I took my two children to the Bronx Zoo yesterday. One of the highlights of our trip (besides THE GIFT SHOP which is a highlight of any trip we take... thanks for having several of them strategically placed near the restrooms) was seeing the gorillas. But I don't just mean the fascinating family of primates you have living behind glass walls in their faux Congo setting.

We stumbled upon the Gorilla movie area--which allowed us a chance to sit down and warm up and watch a documentary about this species. This movie provided us with my children's favorite zoo experience...

"You can learn a lot from scat." says the khaki clad conservationist, happily discovering the steaming pile of excerement. The camera lingers lovingly on a tight close up, while she pulls out a pencil and begins to pick through the pile, exclaiming with each seed and berry how wonderfully "circle of life" it is. From the corner of my eye I am watching both my children watch this scene with eyes as big as saucers; they don't care if the seeds that pass through the gorilla grow new trees--they are wondering what she's gonna do with that pencil when she's done, and MOM DID YOU SEE THAT SHE TOUCHED GORILLA POOP.

And of course, now both of them want to grow up and volunteer on a preserve somewhere.

Please help save our planet. Visit http://www.wcs.org/getinvolved/takeaction

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The Shoe Incident

Recently we discovered that Annie's seafoam colored crocs--quite possibly the ugliest shoes on the face of the planet--had been attacked by a pair of rubber handled safety scissors during nap time in Pre Kindergarten. The perpetrator who wielded the scissors had cut across from each gem hole to each gem hole--a Connect-the-Dots of vandalism. Who did it? "Fabian." The same boy who had terrorized Annie at recess by chasing her across the blacktop threatening to kiss her on the lips.

Blog flashback: I once had a favorite dress when I was Annie's age. It was a soft beige corduroy with a Siamese Cat Pattern. One day I wore it to school and Kenny Farnsworth took a yellow magic marker and drew streams of pee coming from each of the cats. It was a bad day, *shudder, * and I often wonder if Kenny ended up in juvie, or as a contestant on Project Runway. He seemed the type that would get a tattoo across his neck. But I digress.

As luck would have it, I ran into Fabian's Mom at a school event shortly after the croc incident. She introduced herself, I shook her hand.

ME: "I'm Annie's Mom. You know Annie-the shoeless urchin." (OK- I did not actually say the words "shoeless urchin." I said something to the effect of: "I'm Annie's Mom blappitty blappity blah--Your Kid cut My Kids shoes.")

FABIAN'S MOM: I Know. I Got The Letter From The Teacher.

(LONG UNCOMFORTABLE PAUSE. We stand looking at each other. It takes my brain about 2 full minutes to realize that that is ALL she is going to say about it.)

ME: Well, okay then.

FABIAN'S MOM: I asked him about it and he said he did it because your daughter told him to. He said that she forced him to do it.

(ANOTHER LONG UNCOMFORTABLE PAUSE.)

ME: Well-ok--I'm SORRY about that.

Meanwhile my brain is going 60 mph: could this be true? Is it possible that my daughter enlisted the help of this hapless boy in order to obtain her desired goal: NEW SHOES? No, no--that would be manipulative and underhanded--something my son would most definitely do, but not Annie. And while my brain is chewing this over, Fabian's mother walks away. And then I realize that she is Brilliant--because she managed to make ME apologize. When what I really should have said was: "That's a Crock."

Rimshot.

So then I went home and told Annie that if Fabian ever bothered her again, she should tell her father to handle it.

JESSe-ism

Driving in the car- Annie, Jesse, and Jesse's friend Zack.

Me: Why so glum Jess?
Jesse (sulking): You didn't laugh at MY joke but you laughed at Annie's joke and you laughed at Zack's joke. You Don't Like Me.
Me:(Whipping around in seat) Are you kidding me? I love you! I love you and Annie and Daddy more than ANYTHING IN THE WHOLE WORLD! YOU ARE MY LIFE! I ADORE YOU ALL! I COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU!

Jesse (Turning to his friend): You DID NOT just hear that.

CHANGING HANDS

It is my pleasure to announce that OUR NAME IS MUD was acquired by ENESCO last week. ENESCO is a great company with many well known brands and World Wide Distribution capabilities. They also have a kick ass lobby with WHITE LEATHER COUCHES and ORCHIDS. It is like I have died and gone to Giftware Heaven. And hey: God looks like Jim Shore on QVC.

Kip & I will be continuing with ONIM and steering it on it's course to World Wide Domination. One Mug at a Time. The only difference is that now we have paying jobs. Please alert the staff at PayLess Shoes that I'm a'coming.

I am excited for all the opportunities this acquisition offers. I believe under ENESCO's bright green umbrella that I will be able to explore different mediums--to grow and stretch the ONIM brand in many different ways; and to put GOOD THINGS out into the world.

For the first time in a long time I am unfettered by the things that I blamed my lack of flight for. I am free to stretch and grow and soar: if I fail to own the sky I will have no one to blame but myself. I have always had wind beneath my wings in the form of many wonderful, fabulous people-- now I have an engine; A Turbo Powered Super Speed Big Ass Engine.

September 11, 2007

September 11, 2001 was the last day I felt that I lived in an invincible city in an indomitable country. While I did not lose any friends or family that day, I lost-along with millions of other people-my innocence.

There is a lot of talk this year about "Moving On." At 4:30 today I will be filming the Japanese version of Good Morning America, and the producer said to me how anxious they were to show that Americans have rallied and put 9/11 behind them, and to talk about how Positive Things have come as a result of the events of that day. It's a New Day. It's a New Dawn. And I'm Feeeeeling.....well, frankly, I don't feel like "Moving On."

Let me just preface this blog by saying that I am one of those people who feels guilty because Really Wonderful Things have happenned to me as a result of September 11th. You can read about the memorial we created at www.tilesforamerica.com or Google TILES FOR AMERICA and find out more. It's easy enought to feel guilty about the press and attention the project has garnered. And then there is the fact that the project has made me some very, very dear friends and continues on a weekly basis to allow me to have contact with individuals who work on 9/11 projects of their own-photographers, bloggers, poets and artists. For me the irony is that in the wake of seeing the worst of mankind, I have been able to meet and know some of the best people this planet has to offer.

But I don't get all this talk about "Moving On." Where is it exactly we are suppossed to be going?

The events of 9/11, for many of us, moved and effected and changed us in so many ways that there is no way to "MOVE ON, MOVE PAST" any more than we could outrun our own shadows. It's not something we will ever "put behind us" because we allowed it to enter into us-become a part of who we are. Many of us decided on that day to be, forever, witnesses.

Tiles For America has been an interesting project because it has explored this whole "desire to get past this" mentality in a very tangible way. The tiles we received in the wake of 9/11 were made for catharsis--they were full of emotion and passion and often palpable sadness. Just last week I received a box of tiles from a High School in California that worked on the project in their history class. One of the tiles read "Go 49ers." I mention it as an example of how the project has changed over the past six years.

And so what I like best about the project is the way it can unexpectedly slap a person who has "MOVED ON" across their face. I love the unsuspecting tourists who come to the Village to do a bit of shopping, who stumble upon the fence and are drawn in by the raw emotions that are still on display. I love that it shakes them, moves them, makes them remember--because that is what loss itself does. It creeps up on you on sunny days and hits you unexpectedly and you can never ever really Move On, because you carry it with you always.

Our thoughts and prayers are with the families and loved ones who lost people today in the events of 9/11 six years ago, and with the families of loved ones who continue to give their lives in the events that have followed.


(The picture above was sent to me by Carly-whom I have not had the pleasure of meeting, but who took the time to write about how T4A effected her. Thanks Carly!)

True Mug Shot

That's right! Watch LAW & ORDER CRIMINAL INTENT and look for this mug; it will appear regularly on one character's desk. Be the first person to guess which character and win a free PRINCESS mug of your own! Email guesses to Lorrie@ournameismud.com

First Day of Pre-K

My first day of BIG GIRL SCHOOL was not too bad. I was very upset when my mom woke me up this morning because I was under the impression that I would AUTOMATICALLY turn four on the first day of school. But I only cried hysterically for the first hour--I was pretty chill once I had my orange juice. Some mornings you just can't talk to me until I've had my first cup of oj.

I got a New Dress that had LETTERS! NUMBERS! APPLES! Mom got it at a fancy schmancy store called eeebayyy. Tomorrow I am going to ask if I can wear my new blue Dora nightgown.

I made New Friends! And a boy named Samuel kissed me on the nose when we went out to play so I have decided he is my new BEST friend, but this could change depending on if he will agree to be The Daddy tomorrow because today, right in the middle of a great game of house, he went and decided to play RiverBoat Captain, and I am just not having that. Everyone knows Moms are the boss.

We read a book and I had to sit criss cross applesauce on the carpet. Everytime the teacher asked a question I answered with my favorite word, which is "FLAMINGO". I must have called out "FLAMINGO" six or seven times and while it was never the correct answer, I could tell my new teacher appreciated my love of this animal, which happens to be PINK.

My name tag however, happened to be ORANGE, which was a bummer. Oh well-tomorrow is another day of this Pre-Kindergarten thing--and also--it MIGHT be my birthday.

Fan Mail

Not all the Emails I get involve winning the lottery in Nigeria. Here is a nice one we received:


Dear Mud,
My daughter gave my 9 year old son the HERO bowl, which he used EVERY morning, until it BROKE!! Well, it was as if we lost the cat or something. Silence filled the kitchen because the same daughter that gave him the bowl broke it while doing the dishes. I am so glad to see that you still have it to order. Now laughter will return to the home. We love your items so much that I ordered a few extra just for fun, not to mention useful as well.
Thanks so much for putting smiles on the faces of many,
Sincerely,
Cathy

MUD: Saving the world....one pot at at time.

In Honor of School Starting

Random thought

That's Entertainment!

THINGS TO DO TO KEEP YOUR BROKEN WINGED BIRD OCCUPIED WHILE HE IS STUCK IN A CAGE

1. Take your spare change to the bank down the block. It's a very short walk, and if you are lucky, they will be giving away lollipops and free pens. You will have killed 38 minutes of a realllllllllllly lonnnnnnnng day, and turned your silver and copper into crisp green bills.

2. Teach him to play the video games you and your husband took an oath in blood you would never allow into the house in the first place.

3. High School Musical 1.

4. Call every friend and frenemy you and your child have ever known, and beg for playdates. Use the words "desperate" and "bouncing off the walls" at least twice in your request.

5. High School Musical 2.

6. Decide to look in the folder sitting on your desk marked "Summer Homework." Have a mild panic attack. Wonder if he gets extra credit for mastering the video games, as they are sure to improve his fine motor.

7. Take a trip to Whole Foods (also down the block) to look at dead fish in the seafood display and see how many eyeballs you can poke out before store manager asks you to leave.

8. High School Musical: Behind The Scenes.

9. Build the Empire State Building out of a cardboard box and a broken Swiffer Mop. You will have a great piece of art for your living room and managed to kill 23 minutes of a realllllllly lonnnnnnnng day.

10. COUNT THE SECONDS UNTIL SCHOOL STARTS.

Hearts & Bones

One day I will blog about the events of this week; the fall, the ambulance ride, the two subsequent surgeries. I will write about The Guilt, exacerbated by Jesse's first words upon waking-which were somewhere along the lines of WHY DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN TO ME MOM. I will write about my instant dislike of The Toy Lady. I will write about Nonnee's calm assurances, and Kip's stellar performance as the Pee Bottle & Vomit Bucket Holder.

I often joke about my 3-6 faithful readers of this blog. But in reality these words I write are often read by many people; some just once as they stop here at this site to buy a mug or bowl, others occassionally when killing time at work, some, like my father, to find out what is keeping me so busy I can't find time to return a phone call. This week I heard from family, friends, ex employees, old boyfriends, and some kind hearted strangers who sent Emails full of good wishes and happy thoughts. Thank you all. (Oh, and by the way, lead is not an issue in our products--I'm just saying, since this week I got a lot of Emails about that, too.)

Today when you read this blog, Practice Gratitude. There is always so much, every day, to be thankful for.

This Weekend

Three paragraphs sum up this past weekend...............

She lost her sense of humor in the time it took her six year old to fall from the lifeguard chair to the hard surface below-his arm bent at an unnatural angle. She donned a hat of regret and sadness that shaded her from the sun, and realized as the ambulance sirens sounded, that summer had come to a premature end.

The stress of the arrival of all 21 of the summer house's arrivals was exacerbated by her Sister in Law's decision to hand out fireworks to all eleven of the children present.

and...

The deal she made with God regarding how much Pinot Grigio she would imbibe each week was a flexible agreement in her opinion. She figured He was used to Mothers negotiating in the backs of ambulances, and that he would forgive her transgressions.

We Can Be Heros

c d bum

R-Rated Blog

Hopes & Dreams

Under My Skin

So I have finally had my first removal of a "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT--DOES THIS LOOK WEIRD TO YOU" type of skin thing.

The first bit o' flesh they removed was beneath my left eye. When it first appeared on my face two months ago, I chalked it up to being yet another thing that GROWS ON YOUR FACE AFTER AGE 40. (Note to any of you among my 6 loyal readers who are still whippersnappers: IT'S NOT PRETTY...literally. We're talking hair growing out of your chin and other unbelievable places along with recurrent acne that will remind you of the Night Before The Prom in your Sophomore year. )

Anybody who knows me and knows that I proudly wore THE SAME SWEATER for five years running until it literally disintegrated, knows that I am the poster child for Anti-Vanity. How could I find time to dab a little concealer on The Thing On My Face when all efforts were concentrated in finding the t-shirt that covers my hips and makes my huge ass look a tiny bit smaller. It was only when the Weird Thing on My Arm started to grow and change, and become all red and brash and practically scream at me: I KNOW YOU USED TO SUNBATHE WEARING BABY OIL (which is, unjustifiably stupid because if you have ever seen my skin you will know that it is absolutely impossible for me to get a tan unless it comes out of a bottle) that I listened to Kip when he said for the 440th time: Maybe You Should Go See Someone About That.

And so I did, and the first thing they did was cut The Thing on My Face off with a laser. This was my first experience with a laser--and in my mind I was prepared for a burst of red light and perhaps a gentle buzzing sound, not the pain of a thousand bee stings and the smell of my charred flesh. From the corner of my eye I believe I saw SMOKE.

Then they took a melon scoop to my right arm and removed that Nasty Angry Spot and placed both tiny parts of me into little specimen jars which will be sent off to some lab and examined.

So please people: Wear Your Sunscreen. I know a very nice lady named Inga who will turn you a beautiful shade of kumquat with an airbrush for $40 bucks.

I don't know what has made me feel older today: The fact that I had these things removed, or the fact that I am telling you about it now.....

Fish and chips and vingegar vinegar vinegar

ANNIE: Wow-this sure is a big fish. Do you think Mommy will cook it for dinner?
JESSE: Are you kidding? Mommy thinks fish comes out of the freezer in breaded sticks made by a guy in a yellow raincoat.
ANNIE: I'm gonna poke it.
JESSE: Better not.
ANNIE: I am so gonna poke it.
JESSE: DAD! ANNIE IS POKING.
ANNIE: Did not!
JESSE: Did to!
ANNIE: Did Not Did Not Did Not. It felt kind of slimy.
JESSE: I can't hear you-I am busy admiring my hands. Plus, have you noticed I have taken to wearing TWO tshirts at a time? It's my very own fashion statement.

Jesse-ism

JESSE: So, I bet when you and Daddy were younger, you used to have to crank your DVD player.
ME: What?
JESSE: You know--with a handle. You'd have to crank the handle to play your DVD.

Where Angelina Jolie gets her Superpowers From

The middle of the night began like any other. Jesse arrived beside our bed at approximately 2:30 AM and announced, as usual, that he had to pee. Kip grumbled his standard response which alluded to the fact that the bathroom is ON THE WAY to our bedroom, and helpful facts like: " no self respecting boogeyman would hide in a toilet anyway-they prefer dry places like under your bed or in your closet", blah blah, blah while he accompanied Jesse on business, and we began our nightly game of Musical Beds.

I am starting to think that maybe Jesse doesn't have the major sleep issues we have always believed he has. I am starting to suspect IT IS ALL ABOUT THE MATTRESS. Last year, Kip and I did some major wheeling and dealing with a friend of a friend who is Heir to a Mattress Empire, who made a single phone call and got us an INCREDIBLE DEAL on a mattress that is worth a gazillion dollars. We don't own a house; but we proudly invested in one hell of a mattress. Reminds me we need to make a will. There could be a lot of fighting over that thing.

So as I took Jesse's place in his crappy Ikea bed while he snuggled down in my bed on my warm spot no less, it occurred to me that maybe if we got the kid a better mattress he might stay in his own bed most nights. Or-at least I would sleep more comfortably. And with this thought, I began to drift off to dreamland...

Only to be awakened by Annie; who is usually such a sound sleeper we have to hold a mirror under her nose to make sure she is breathing. Nothing will get your heart going faster than a high pitched whine that BUILDS and BUILDS til it is a BLOOD CURDLING SHRIEK. So I jumped over to her bed in the darkness--where she lay screaming and kicking her feet and whaling her arms. I attempted to pick her up-and if you want to know what this feels like, open a blender one day while it's on PUREE and put your face into it. The conversation goes something like this:

ME; Annie-what's wrong honey?
ANNIE: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
ME: Do you not feel well? Are you sick?
ANNIE: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
ME: Annie, can you please stop kicking me in the nose and tell me what is wrong?
ANNIE: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
ME: Do you want a teddy bear (Waaa/Kick combo) Do you have an earache? (Waaaaa/ Head butt into chin) Do you want a blanket? (Particularly offensive--response is a double kick to clavicle) DO YOU WANT ME TO BEND STEEL WITH MY MIND???
(At this point I am thinking; Emergency Room. Because I would love to explain to a group of doctors at 3:20 am that I had to come in because I DON"T SPEAK WAA.)
ANNIE: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
ME: (Head in hands. Bad flashback of Nights 2001-2003.)Annie.....Please. Let Mommy Help You.
ANNIE: Waaa Waaa Waaaa
ME: Wait---did you mean (Hallelujah music plays here) Waaaaaaaa-ter? Water? Is that it? DO YOU NEED WATER? BECAUSE MY GOD---I CAN DO THAT!!!
ANNIE: In my Hello Kitty Cup with ice to the top.

So I ran to the kitchen and Kip met me there and we worked as a team to locate the Hello Kitty Sippy Cup and fill it with the appropriate amount of ice and bring it to her, at which point she insisted we fetch a flashlight so that she could SEE REALLY SEE that we had not been stingy with the ice and that it was, indeed, FILLED TO THE TOP.

Two sips and she was out like a light.

I went to bed thinking that the next day I would work on solving problems that were a little easier: like how to bring about world peace or what to do about global warming.

RenoVaTions

I had 1/4 of Jesse & Annie's room painted when I decided that Kip had been right all along, and that renovating the apartment over the course of two days, in addition to working this weekend on a design deadline for MUD, was maybe NOT SUCH A GOOD IDEA.

So I just painted three walls. Well, really 2 and 3/4 because the side of the 3rd wall was super tricky and involved painting around shelving which i could not take down because I could not figure out how to work the freaking drill-- so I just made a line with some painter's tape and just STOPPED. I was ALMOST at the end of the wall-about 7 inches from it-but who cares. It's mod. Plus, I don't think it is so noticible given the fact that I tried to hang the new curtains before the paint had dried and the large swatches of semi gloss I got all over the striped cotton fabric make an interesting pattern and sort of keep your eyes from going to the curio boxes that I attempted to hang- but again, because I could not work the drill- had to install by hammering the screws into the drywall. Theory is the same right? Nail...screw...whatever. Although, I am thinking maybe I should not put anything heavy into them just yet. Worked til 2:30 am last night, was up at 7 and stepping in random piles of cat vomit that I could not see because most of the furniture in the apartment is IN THE KITCHEN.

And to think I could have just left things the way they were and finished Harry Potter.

PRioRiTieS

So the other night at bedtime, I was tucking Jesse in and our conversation went a bit like this:

ME: Goodnight, I love you.
JESSE: Why do you always say that? Why are you always saying you love me?
ME: Because I do, and i want you to know you are the most important thing to me.
JESSE: Really? (dramatic pause) Because I thought WORK was.

At which point I attempted with both hands to force my heart back into the GAPING CHEST WOUND his words had left.

I told him yesterday that I needed to fly out of town on business today, and that I would be leaving Realllllllly Early but I would be home at bedtime. At 2:30 am he appeared beside our bed and asked if I was leaving yet, before jumping in beside me. At 4:45 he was awake again, watching me get ready in the darkness, and at 5:30 he was clinging to my neck and crying hysterically that he did not want me to leave.

At 6:30 am I was on a plane and sobbing. I was the woman in Seat B2 that sobbed for two hours. Silent sobbing--but the shoulder shuddering, tray table shaking, snot dripping onto your blouse kind of crying nontheless. Which must have made the other passengers on the plane feel VERY CONFIDENT AND HAPPY. And all poor Kip could do was to just keep handing me beverage napkin after beverage napkin.

My two hours of sobbing also completely clogged my left ear and covered my contact lenses with protein deposits, so that when I exited the plane, I was almost completely blind and half deaf. Not to mention VERY PRETTY with my puffy swollen face and snot covered blouse.

So Kip changed our return flight home so that I could be back by 7 pm, which I was. Bearing LOTS OF GIFTS. Because really, nothing says "I feel totally guilty about working instead of staying home and raising my children" like a big bag of overpriced airport toys.

But here's the thing Jesse Bear-should you find this post in cyber space some day far in the future. I have never loved work more than you. But sometimes work has been easier. Sometimes I knew more about what the heck I was doing at work than what i was doing at home. Work has never demanded from me some of the things that being your Mom has asked of me. And here's the thing: I LOVE WORK. One of my greatest hopes for you is that you will see that work can be a joyful thing--that you will find something you love to do and do it with all your heart and soul. That you will remember that WORK IS A GOOD THING. So I hope you will forgive me, and know that I tried my best to juggle it all and to be a good mom. I hope you know that I was ALWAYS CONFLICTED. And that even when I HAD to leave you sometimes, that it verily broke my heart each time.

Where Have All the Bloggers Gone?

Well, as evidenced by the fact that there has not been an update since July 10, that whole "Guest Blogger" thing worked out REALLY WELL. Remind me not to ask you people to feed my plants or water my cat next time we go out of town, I mean, Sheesh.

So here's a quick update of NEW EVENTS on Veasey Street.

ANNIE GAVE UP HER CHOOPA. (Choopa: noun, small plastic sucking device inserted by parents into squalling newborn's mouth and often not removed for four or five years. Also known as Binky, Paci, and that thing in her mouth that makes it impossible to understand what she is saying, and will cause her to need braces when she is twelve--thereby ruining her first kiss at thirteen-- when either a rubber band will fly out of her mouth as the deal is being closed, or she will lock front teeth with the boy who also had a CHOOPA for the first four years of his life.)

And all it took was some DISNEY PRINCESS COSTUMES. Behold the Power of Ariel! Bow down before the Influence of Tinkerbelle! Who knew that offering a bribe of a blue satin dress with white elbow gloves could be so LIFE CHANGING. And before one of the three of you loyal readers points out that the "Princess" way of thinking may not be the healthiest image for young girls today, let me just say that we always make it a big point to tell Annie that Princesses are really very much like the CEO's of companies...like MOMMY. And then we just stand back and let her Order Everyone Around while Stomping her Glass Slippered Foot and Talking About How Much She Hates Math.

The Princess Costume Collection truly rocked Annie's world, but it was nothing compared to an impulse purchase I also made before I left Target. And that would be.....A NIGHTGOWN. Because as Annie said: IT IS A DRESS YOU CAN SLEEP IN? REALLY? A DRESS FOR NIGHT? A PINK DRESS FOR IN MY BED? CAN I WEAR IT FOR THE NEXT SEVENTY TWO HOURS? I LOVE IT I LOVE IT DO YOU LOVE IT? HEY MR. UPS GUY-DID YOU NOTICE MY NEW NIGHTGOWN? LET'S CALL NONNEE BECAUSE SHE WILL WANT TO KNOW ALL ABOUT THESE NIGHTGOWN THINGS BECAUSE SHE MAY NOT KNOW THAT SOMEONE INVENTED A DRESS FOR BED!!!

Which later lead to what will now forever be referred to as: The Great Underwear Under The Nightgown Debates of '07.

Initially, we went commando. Because we love to give her the opportunity to discard as many articles of clothing onto the bedroom floor for someone else to pick up as possible. And because, well, being Lazy Mom, I figured if we always took them off each night we would never find ourselves in trouble during those times where we don't bathe for weeks.

But apparently the BEST WAY to show your BRAND NEW NIGHTGOWN to the man who brings hamburgers for dinner, the super of the building, the son of your nanny, and the odd workmen that come through the place daily is to LIFT IT UP OVER YOUR HEAD AND SHAKE YOUR TUSH. This move was popularized by Kate Moss at some point in the 80's, but Annie is just a natural.

After Much Discussion (and feel free to join in the debate right here--in the comments section) it was decided that what was needed was NEW UNDERWEAR. With Ariel on it. And Belle. And Cinderella..................

MERDY'S GUEST BLOG

The actual move is over--but because there is still so much to unpack I have decided to do the smart thing AND RUN AWAY TO KALAMAZOO. In my absence, in order to maintain my loyal readership of 4, I will have some Guest Bloggers. Guest Bloggers will receive my gratitude and oh, maybe a MUG. Email me your entries people. Just try it: it's like literary skinny dipping--fun to do at least one time by monnlight while intoxicated. So here is MERDY'S BLOG:

As a fellow MudChick (MC), I too have a nickname given to me by Lorrie - it's Merdy. Don't know why or how and along with Peedles, she is the only one who calls me that. And I answer. Because as Peedles said, when someone you respect gives you a nickname you don't ask why, you just answer and sign that name to all your emails to her. I no longer own my PYOP studio so does that make me a former MC or a MC alumni...or maybe I'm a MC for life? Someone recently asked me what my career goals were and I had to think about it for a minute. My response? I sold them along with my studio.

I don't really understand the blogging world, but Lorrie tells me it's the wave of the future, that to be in business you have to blog. So here I am blogging...on her blog. I don't know why people want to put all their thoughts, rants, pictures, glimpses into their lives and the lives of their family and friends in cyberspace for all the world to see. But as a reader, it's a great way to keep up with the lives and mental state of my few friends who have, own or write? blogs. Maybe one day I will see the light and have my very own blog to write about blogging on.

I've been meaning to guest blog for a while now since I told Lorrie about my new business venture. Always trying to help out, she said she would put a link to my site on her website. After a careful surfing session of ournameismud.com I determined that she has no links section! Thanks anyway Lorr. Ah, but then she said I could guest blog and plug my business here. So to all her faithful readers (are you up to 3 now?) it is www.hipflops.com - custom flip flops for any occasion!

I meant to write this yesterday but here is how my weekend went: As a New Yorker, I am always jealous of the people who LOVE Central Park, and can't get enough. Jealous of the rollerbladers who glide by effortlessly up a hill or down a hill and can weave in and out of the pedestrians, cyclists and dogs, stop on a dime. No knee pads, elbow pads or wrist guards, no helmets. Or my friends who enjoy sitting in Central Park on a hot summer day, enjoying "all that New York City has to offer." So this weekend I decided that I would try to be one of these people and I met my friend in the park. Brought my chair, the paper, ipod, the works. It was sorta fun. I caught up with my friend, saw some half naked guy, (who should not have been half naked in public or private for that matter) do yoga, and listened patiently to a grown man argue with the ice cream vendor that his cone broke when he opened the package and wanted a new one (just give him a new one already so I could get my Chipwich dammit). I'd rather be by someone's pool with a clean bathroom nearby and liquor cabinet within an arms reach, especially on a hot summer day.

The following day, yesterday, I went to get breakfast with my cousin. I was feeling dizzy and decided to stop at the Bagel store for Gatorade. As she was handing it to me, I passed out, right there on the table. As my cousin was trying to revive me, luckily a nurse was there and helped her get me down on the ground and elevate my legs. I came to on the floor of this Bagel store (yuck!) and saw some concerned folks looking over me, getting ice, calling 911. I also saw some people going about their business ordering their bagels with schmear not paying me any mind! None of the employees tried to help or offer me water...unbelievable. The ambulance came, I went to the ER and was released within a few hours, all chalked up to dehydration. I am now content to sit in my air conditioned apt. making hipflops, letting everyone else take advantage of all New York City has to offer.

So, sorry this blog is late. I was on the floor of a Bagel store, in an ambulance, in the ER. I gotta take a shower...STAT.

Again, it's www.hipflops.com and thanks for the link Lorr! Love, Merdy

A Boy From Chelsea... OBVIOUSLY

This is Jesse's latest creation from Build a Bear. Obviously, you just can't have too many stuffed animals dressed in pleather.

Again with the boobs thing.

As my faithful readership can tell (all 3 of you that are now left) I have been BUSY BUSY BUSY and unable to blog. But thank goodness my friends continue to send me PSAs about breast cancer and stuff. I mean, I BEG them to send me porn, but I guess this is as close as they feel comfortable getting. Anyway; once again-let's pause for a moment and think about saving second base:

PLEASE TAKE THE TIME AND DO THIS. Thank you for your time!

From a nurse:

I'll never forget the look in my patients eyes when I had to tell
them they had to go home with the drains, new exercises and no
breast. I remember begging the Doctors to keep these women in
the hospital longer, only to hear that they would, but their hands
were tied by the insurance companies. So there I sat with my patient
giving them the instructions they needed to take care of themselves,
knowing full well they didn't grasp half of what I was saying,
because the glazed, hopeless, frightened look spoke louder than the
quiet 'Thank you' they muttered.

A mastectomy is when a woman's breast is removed in order to remove
cancerous breast cells/tissue. If you know anyone who has had a
mastectomy, you may know that there is a lot of discomfort and pain
afterwards. Insurance companies are trying to make mastectomies an
outpatient procedure. Let's give women the chance to recover
properly in the hospital for 2 days after surgery.

Mastectomy Bill in Congress

There's a bill called the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act which
will require insurance companies to cover a minimum 48-hour hospital
stay for patients undergoing a mastectomy. It's about eliminating
the 'drive-through mastectomy' where women are forced to go home just
a few hours after surgery, against the wishes of their doctor, still
groggy from anesthesia and sometimes with drainage tubes still attached.

Lifetime Television has put this bill on their Web page with a
petition drive to show your support. Last year over half the House
signed on.

PLEASE!! Sign the petition by clicking on the Web site below. You
need not give more than your name and zip code number.

http://www.lifetimetv.com/breastcancer/petition/signpetition.php

This takes about 2 seconds. PLEASE PASS THIS ON to your friends and
family, and on behalf of all women, THANKS.

Boobs Mitchell Says....

HELP SAVE SECOND BASE:
http://www.thebreastcancersite.com/clickToGive/home.faces?siteId=2

Here's the dirt

How dirty is Dan's desk, you ask?

Say Goodbye to the Old Studio!

AH the fun we had-the times we shared-the messes we made!