In Which the Author Does Not Quote Kanye

As I went to write this blog entry about the week of April 16th, I struggled to find an appropriate metaphor. Some people might wax poetic about silver linings and the good to be found in evil, blah blah blah.  The first thing I thought of was a Kanye quote* but that was a little weird. So I contemplated "crap sundae with the best possible cherry" or "shit storm with a fantastic calm". The point is, a lot of bad things happened that were eclipsed by something so awesome that, despite everything, I'll look back fondly on that week for the rest of my life.

Obviously, there was the bombing at the Boston Marathon. This was unacfuckingceptable. Frightening, terrible and unacceptable. Marathon Monday is for two things: running like a crazy person** and celebrating those crazy bastards with day drinking.  I think Colbert said it best:

Then there was my birthday. This was actually not a huge deal. There was the typical angst I've experienced every year on my birthday since I was 7 (I was a real hoot and a half as a kid), one glass of wine (I'm on a damn diet) and some lovely music and friends. There was also lots of looking at pictures of Helen Mirren to reassure myself about the onslaught of aging.

Then came the vomiting. Yup. The vomiting. Two and a half days of it. This was unacceptable.

Finally, I felt ready for solid food. So I ate an apple.

Then came the swelling of the face. Yup. Swollen face. Apparently, I am allergic to apples. As I stared into the mirror, watching my face contort with a morbid fascination, I may have said, "but it wath thuppothed to be my birthhhday!" (my tongue swelled up too).

But here's the thing: it wasn't really supposed to be my birthday. Not this year. There was a much more important birthday being had. That of my perfect, beautiful niece. Meet Calliope:

It's amazing what a birth can do. I mean, how crazy is it that this squishy ball of baby is going to learn and experience everything it is to be a human? Seeing her, I care a lot less about getting older and dying. I mean, I may be gone, but how great is it that she'll still be there to remember me? Babies really do bring all the hope and joy and crap that Louis Armstrong likes to sing about.

And yes, I've already ordered baby's first turban. And no, I'm not kidding. I'm Auntie Mame, bitch.




*Specifically this one: "this week's been a bad massage, I need a happy ending." Ok, so technically I quoted Kanye there, but I think you'll agree I'm still showing real restraint and growth. 
**Did you know that many marathon runners cross the finish line with bloody nipples? BLOODY NIPPLES. 

Happy Belated Easter!

Hope you had a great one with chocolate for breakfast and confused fertility symbols (rabbits. don't. lay. eggs). The Boy and I had a lovely seder with his family, which wrapped up with a raspberry mousse cake we brought. To be honest, we were pretty damn pleased with ourselves about it. Nigh on insufferable, but the delicousness of the cake saved us.

This bunny might lay a chocolate egg. If chocolate egg means rabbit shit

Before the seder, we helped my mom move which was less than lovely given that it snowed. That's right, ladies and gentleman, snowed. As in, white flakes falling to the ground while we lugged furniture all day and slowly got soaked. But all's well that ends well and the move ended well. Mom was happy in her new home, The Boy was happy in a warm bed and I was happy in my hot bath.

Also we all had bourbon and that helps like hell.

After getting home, my life suddenly turned into a Freaks and Geeks episode. Seriously. Plaid pajama pants, pigtails and pink Doc Marten boots on a scooter making a late night fast food run.

And now it's back to the grindstone with loads of emails and photo shoots and trapezing. Yup, trapezing. How awesome is that?

Happy New Year!

The Chinese New Year is coming up, and many celebrated this weekend. Soon it will be the Year of The Rabbit, as it was when I was born.

Image courtesy of CuteOverload.com

I was never a huge fan of rabbits, really. I was a guinea pig girl, and rabbit never seemed to be as friendly or awesome to me. Chalk it up to overexposure to the Tortoise and the Hare stories, maybe.

Don't get me wrong,  they're adorable, but they're also a little weird.  With the beady eyes and the twitchy nose (traits which run in my family, come to think of it).

I wish this was real.

I always wish I'd been born during a cooler year, like the Tiger or, better yet, the Monkey:



But, then again, how cute is this?



 Those twitchy little fuckers are growing on me.