Thursday, July 31, 2008


Kids are Tivo. You can't understand it and probably don't want it until you actually have it, and then you can't imagine how you got by without it.

The problem is that women seem to be able to get excited about Tivo just by playing with other womens' Tivos, and this makes them want Tivo, and so they think, all I need to do is get my husband or boyfriend to play with this Tivo and he will totally want one too. And then the guy comes over and politely handles your Tivo and then hands it back like it's made of unstable uranium.

Just get Tivo, people say, you'll see, it will change your life. When are you going to get Tivo? For god's sake, you're not getting any younger, and I'd like to have someone call me Grandma before I die, so will you please, just hurry up and get Tivo!

Well, I got Tivo, and for a long time... nothing. In fact, for the first few weeks I kept trying to find the receipt.

And then the other night, well, like 4 am, I was feeding one of my Tivos, I forget which one, they all look alike, and it fell asleep on my hand, and everything went limp, and it was just breathing on my palm, and well, I became a convert.

I attempted to capture the moment with this sketch-

The point is, I cannot recommend Tivo to you. Nor do I think playing with my Tivo will make you want one. But if you end up with one, it will change your life in a way that you will feel compelled to try to express in a crude drawing in which you have a black lollipop head and one extra joint in your arm.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Are We Home Yet?

We have decided never to leave the house again. Christmas, Thanksgiving, they all have to be held here, in our living room. If you would like us to attend your funeral or the birth of your child, those too will have to take place right here. We'll move the coffee table.

The girls had their first road trip to visit grandparents and so forth and they have revealed themselves to be poor traveling companions. They did three things, and three things only. Screamed, slept, and posed for pictures. I'll let you guess which they did most.

Our plan was to be the sort of couple who traveled constantly with our wee ones. Couple kids? That's not going to stop us. They're smaller than backpacks, and we're already used to traveling with those.

Unfortunately it's more like traveling with rabid animals than luggage. You don't understand the meaning of the word stereo until you've logged an hour with a baby screaming in each of your ears.

As such, if you need us, you know where we'll be.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Gummy Bear Nation

I have returned from a week long hug. If you can arrange one, I highly recommend it. I used to think of LA as traffic, crumbling infrastructure, and smog. Now I will remember it as gummy bears, cupcakes, and smog.

But I am home now and back to my day job as baby furniture. Luckily I am furniture for two very sweet, smiley wonder babies. I would not do this for just anyone.

In 32 meetings I got to shake hands with a lot of people. It was frightening how quickly I felt a kinship with the ones who had kids. How old? Are they sleeping? Names? I used to watch these exchanges between other people and feel like they were talking in code. And now I find myself in detailed discussions of the best swaddling techniques with people I barely know. I was a non parent recently enough to remember how annoying this is, but I cannot stop. I need to be quarantined before I affix a bumpersticker to the car telling you about my children's grades or honor role status.

I wish I could communicate the swirly, weightless feeling of watching personal and professional things change at such a rapid rate. The one thing every parent I met warned about was how quickly it all went by. I'm sure that's the case on all fronts. If we meet soon and I'm too dumbstruck to tell you my name, just know that I'm concentrating on soaking it all in while it lasts.

That or it's the mojitos.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

11 Down 21 To Go

In the past two days I've had eleven meetings, four excellent meals, and shared an elevator with McLovin. Thank god I skipped law school.

Visited my brother on Sunday near Santa Barbara. He and his wife have become master chef/gardeners. They grow almost everything they serve. I'm pretty sure they hand fused the hydrogen and oxygen in the water. In my family we usually evaluate meals with phrases like 'well, no one died'. This is high praise. 'Almost no one died' is more typical. 'I wish I were dead' is not unheard of. Their food produced comments like, 'edible', 'not hurting my pancreas', and 'seriously, this is so good I can't even feel my pancreas'. It made me proud.

Yesterday and today were a long blur of people punctuated by food I didn't have to pay for, which is my favorite kind (assuming it's pancreas friendly). I ordered 10 dollar doughnuts and eight dollar beers and tried to see how many table settings I could fit in my pants pockets. The word you're looking for is - classy.

Somehow they keep finding more hours in the day to put meetings. I had something like 28 when I got here. I'm up to 32 now. Apparently those nights of uninterrupted sleep don't come cheap. I've said the same things so many times that I sometimes begin and end an hour with the same story. A story about a young pancreas, just trying to make his way into every paragraph.

I think me tired.


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