Now with more nog

A month since my last blog post? Ah life, you son of a bitch. You got in my way of blogging.

We've been transitioning into Christmas mode around here, buying and decorating a tree, hanging garland 'round the mantle and colored lights on our front fence, and reading -nay, singing - Jingle Bells (the book) to Edie. She is really getting into the spirit, and when she sees Christmas lights around the neighborhood, she shouts, "Christmas!" followed by, "I want to see monsters". (Apparently she's still hanging on to the Halloween spirit as well.)

I am now five months pregnant, which is going pretty well. It is safe to say I've adopted maternity pants and elastic-waist skirts, but I still try to look cute for work in blazers, pins, scarfs, and whatnot. I really want to wear yoga pants to the office, but I believe that's frowned upon. I unearthed my former maternity wardrobe, and can only hope that the hormones impacted my fashion judgement during the third trimester. Has fashion really changed that much since 2010? I vow to never wear some of that stuff again.

Pregnant ladies do get a wardrobe pass, however. No one is gonna talk smack if I wear the same skirt twice in one week. If they do, I place a curse on their firstborn.

Speaking of which, have you ever read traditional folktales to your kids? This includes Rumpelstiltskin, Hansel and Gretel, Three Little Pigs, and Rapunzel. My mom has "Three Minute Bedtime Stories" at their house, and I read it to Edie. I was aghast at all the child-snatching, fang-toothed wolves, and lonely cursed lives under the shade of the forest. Furthermore, most villains die gruesome deaths by way of boiling pots of water or being pushed into ovens. Those are some messed up stories, and I'm much happier reading stuff like "I'm Dirty" or "The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry and the Big Hungry Bear". Children's lit has come a long way since 1812.

Edie and I took a road trip to Waltham this weekend for the Edmands' annual Christmas party. (Unfortunately, Dave couldn't join us because he is finishing a final paper.) We got there in 1.5 hours (a personal record, thanks Speed Pass). Michelle had set up a kids' craft table and a spread of holiday food and drink.

The party has been going on for about 10 years now, and it has evolved to accommodate all the families with kiddos. Although we still socialize and have fun, they rule the early evening. Once they tucker out, we drink wine and faux beer, gossip, and eat the most delicious apple dumplings ever! I fell asleep at 10:30. I'm a real party animal, rarr!

We are looking forward to spending our first Christmas in our home, especially now that Edie is excited. She doesn't know enough to ask for presents yet, but she did fancy some Disney Princess sparkly, light-up sneakers at Marshall's yesterday. I tried to get her excited about a pair of gender neutral blue Osh Kosh shoes, but she was not interested at all. She kept saying, "How about these ones?" to the sparkles, and I wondered, Is this when I start bowing to her 2-year old tastes? Luckily, she wanted her own shoes back on, so I dodged that bullet. At least for this week.

Yoga, run, repeat

You all know I've got a thing for working out. A good workout can clear my head, take me on foot to roads and paths I'd never see otherwise, and it's a damn good way to break up the day. I love feeling sore the day after a good workout. It's like I've woken up muscles I didn't even know I had.

Running is getting harder to squeeze in with our schedules and the sun's early departure. However, in addition to some pocket-size cardio sessions at the company gym, I've been hitting up two local yoga studios for my workouts du jour.

I've embraced yoga on and off over the years. I first encountered sun salutations while at a high school arts program at Bennington College in VT. The instructor was a willowy blonde named Willa, and she also served as the art department's nude model. She was a few years older than us, and I thought she was pretty artsy-cool. I then went on to explore yoga in a sweaty basement of UConn (with 150 other co-eds: next!), power yoga at Gold's Gym in Boston (hard core workout), and a prenatal class in Seattle (love you, Yoga Mama!)

I tagged along with a co-worker to the lunchtime class at Downtown Yoga a few months ago and have been going once or twice a week since. The studio isn't any great shakes, although it's nicely perched atop charismatic Pratt Street, with old school floor-to-ceiling windows (read: cold in winter, sweltering in summer). I found a teacher there whom I really like. Her class was gentle yoga, or as I like to call it, Granny yoga. It's more of a massage than a workout, but I don't care, it feels awesome (especially while training for the Hartford Marathon relay - do you know how tight runners get?) She was so calming and gentle, I basically melted into the floor by the the time we did Savasana. As with all teacher-student relationships, some teachers just speak to you.

You can imagine my disappointment when she was scrapped from the schedule without warning. Apparently there was some very un-yogi fall out between her and the owner. Her noon slot was switched to YogaFlow, which was an unexpected sweat fest that made me long for a towel, personal fan, and hair elastic. Part of the reason I like mid-day yoga is because I can de-stress without returning to the office with beads of sweat on my brow.

Fortunately, I've found another couple teachers there that I like. One swears that yoga and music go together "like chocolate and peanut butter", and we rock out to some decent tunes while we go through our vinyasa. We recently did a workout to a mix I swear I created in 11th grade. It was a lovely walk down Tori Amos/Sarah McLachlan/Rusted Root lane.

Well my favorite teacher now subs at West Hartford Yoga (aka WHY), where they also host a pre-natal class (yep, I qualify!) I bought a monthlong trial pass, and have not gone as much as I'd like, but still. I like that they have classes later at night. I went to one class that focused on meditation and began with some low humming, taught by an middle-age hippie spririt named Shankara. Do you think that's his birth name?

I want to get my mom into yoga, and I mentioned bringing her to a WHY class soon. We Leonard ladies are a high-strung, adrenaline-seeking, type-A bunch. The focused breathing and mindfulness of yoga is something I really have to concentrate on, but it is so damn rejuvenating. We could all use the mental and physical unwind that yoga provides. And have you seen any yoga teachers' bodies lately? They are pretty much ripped. I'm trying to get my arm muscles back via chaturangas.

One pretty kitty

Edie really loves our cat. Anyone who knows me or Dave knows that we were not historically cat people. When we moved into our house, Edie would search for cats on our neighborhood walks, so we decided a cat might be a nice, low maintenance addition to our family.

Enter Catsby. (I was reading 'The Great Gatsby' at the time of adoption. And I absolutely love naming stuff).

We all fell in love with Catsby pretty quickly. She's a young curious girl and she loves being outside. She stalks through our lawn as if she's a panther. And yes, she's brought us home a couple birds and a dead mole. Yum!

When we ask Edie what she dreamed about the night before, she says Catsby. When we inquire about what she's drawing, it's Catsby. Apparently all of her teachers know about Catsby too. Based on her love affair, it was pretty obvious Edie should be a cat for Halloween.

I just had to buy these shoes. I wish they came in adult sizes. Edie refuses to wear any other shoes since they arrived.

I picked up a black ballerina dress and a leopard-print sweater, as well as some ears. I drew whiskers with eyeliner and a nose with lipstick for 'catface'. Edie started meowing as soon as the outfit was complete. She had a parade at school, and we took her trick or treating on our street and my parents' neighborhood for her first real Halloween (last year was cancelled because of Frankenstorm, the year before she was only a few months old).

When we returned from my parents', our street was absolutely crawling with children. I've never lived in a place with such a vibrant Halloween street. There were tons of cars parked too, which meant people flocked here from other 'hoods.

Edie loved handing out candy to all the kids. She just waited at the door, candy in hand, and shrieked with delight when they approached, "More peoples! More peoples!" She gave each princess, goblin, and ghoul a hand-picked candy. It was the cutest thing, and I just had to write it down before I forgot.

p.s. I was really proud of her costume last year, and hardly anyone got to see it. She was a garden gnome, and I may recreate it next year. I better hurry before she insists on picking her own costume.

Happy Halloween peoples!

Ode to the Cheapskate

Some people are good a being cheap.

Am I saying that right? Some people just know how to pinch a penny. They eat, pickle, or trade all the food that grows in their gardens. They set a grocery budget and honestly stick to it, and when they decide not to use their credit cards, they forget those evil plastics even exist.

This may seem like a quaint, old-timey scene, back when many women owned one dress and baked bread from scratch. But some modern day folks are budget mavens, and they're great about spending less. I have a girlfriend who would go on haitus from

buying clothes for 6 months or so. By the end of that time, even I got sick of her wardrobe. She rarely bought coffee, and religiously brought her lunch to work. But she bought a beautiful home with some of the money she'd saved. Another family member will wring his hands, heavily debating before buying an album on iTunes.

Honestly, I'm not stellar at sticking to the family budget. I'm not terrible, but it's hard when two adults are sharing an account and able to make spending decisions. Life is expensive. Dave is not a big spender. He shops for clothes about once per year (last week in August), he buys decent beer, and extended cable t.v. is non-negotiable. On the other hand, he recently asked me if I'm single-handedly keeping Zappos in business. Yes I bought a few shoes last month, but they are replacing ones that I've rocked for years. I swear.

There are a few tips I've encountered to cut spending, none of which seem to fit into our lifestyle: carpool ("Anyone else want to swing by daycare for 15 minutes on our commute?"), eat less meat (Dave looks crestfallen if there's no animal on the dinner plate), color your own hair (done with that adventure at age 22), and clip coupons (ugh).

I do succeed in a couple cheapskate ways. I am an avid library book borrower, I get 80% of Edie's clothes at the local consignment shop, I am not too proud to pick up side-of-the-road toys, and I always turn off lights when I leave a room. The most old-ladyish money-saving thing I do? Recycle plastic baggies and aluminum foil.

I like using Peapod for groceries to stick to the budget. Sometimes my strategy to trim costs works, and I spend time deciding which items to put back on the virtual shelf when I've gone over my limit. This is a bit harder to do in a brick n' mortar store. Other times I stick to my budget, and the quantity of food that arrives is so paltry I rush to review the receipt to make sure Peapod didn't leave one of our bags in the truck.

Mint is an online resource that is great for budgeting and tracking spending. Again, sometimes I am right on target, and I spend my set amount on gas, entertainment, or clothing. Other times I blow the budget out of the water and feel guilty and anxious about it until the next month when the numbers reset.

While I will likely never be known as the lady who stretches a dollar, I am also not getting my nails done or driving a car I can't afford. Our laptop is five years old, and our couches are hand-me-downs. It's all about balance. I just need to find that happy money medium.

32 things in 32 years

As I near my 32nd birthday, I thought I'd round up some random things that I've learned over the years. Some of these things were instilled in me from a young age, while others I've picked up along the way. Some are just my opinion, others are life's great discoveries or pieces of advice I try to follow. I had a hard time editing this list, which is good, because if I only had 32 guiding thoughts in my back pocket, I'd be pretty lame.

1. A good mom goes a long way.

2. Everything is better with cheese on it.

3. Saturday morning is the best time of the week.

4. Trust your gut, even when it tells you something you don’t want to hear.

5. My happiness is directly impacted by how much I’m working out (or not). Even a 10 minute run improves my outlook on life.

6. Sometimes, things can be just good enough. It’s okay if the pillowcases don’t match the sheets, or if you use bottled curry sauce rather than make your own.

7. Be a good parent, but don’t forget to be a good spouse.

8. Owning a house is a huge amount of work. Which is why I’ve let our garden go “back to nature” and we have a cleaning lady.

9. Once in a while, consciously be grateful for your health.

10. Don’t buy faux-Tupperware from IKEA.

11. Whether you are looking to buy a mid-century modern coffee table, find a roommate, or unload some extra mulch, Craigslist is an amazing resource.

12. Let your kids eat breakfast for dinner once in a while.

13. Guacamole is probably my greatest adult discovery.

14. If you're not into a book, put it down and move on to the next one.

15. If you get a chunk of money (bonus, tax refund, whatever), spend it like this: half to pay off debt, a quarter to savings, and the remaining quarter on a treat such as a golf trip (Dave’s choice) or leather boots (my choice).

16. Skype narrows the distance.

17. Write and send thank you notes.

18. Take risks big and small. This goes from trying a new recipe to making hard decisions that will significantly change your life, like moving to a new city. You will fail, but you will also grow and learn, and sometimes succeed.

19. Holding a sleeping baby on your chest is the best feeling.

20. If your husband likes spaghetti and you don’t, make him spaghetti once in a while.

21. Contribute money to your employer-sponsored retirement account. On top of getting the free employer match, it is money you won’t even miss from your paycheck.

22. Look people in the eye when talking, and when toasting.

23. Car camping counts as camping.

24. Dunkin’ Donuts isn’t that good and Starbucks is a total rip-off. Make coffee at home, but treat yourself once in a while.

25. If you are over the age of five, don’t ever wear your pajamas in public. Even on exam day. This goes for sweatpants too.

26. Know when to put down your iPhone.

27. In a pinch, it’s okay to distract your kids with iPhone apps when you are trying to complete a task or visit a friend in public.

28. You don’t have to go to college as soon as you graduate high school. Figure out what direction you want to go, at least somewhat, before racking up enormous student loan debt, or depleting your parents’ life savings, on tuition.

29. Exercise is the fountain of youth. Walking counts.

30. Don’t pay a contractor without a contract, and definitely don’t pay them up front.

31. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have. People will assume you know what you're talking about if you wear a suit, or the suit coat alone.

32. Do one thing at a time.

Working Mom's Lament

I'm going to say what I've been thinking for a while now: I don't want to work full-time. I have always been a worker, starting with canvassing Ledgewood Road for babysitting gigs as a tween, then serving meals at the Holy Family Monastery, then slinging coffees and jelly donuts at the Elmwood Bakery. I worked while in high school and throughout college, and secured a full-time job right out of school, and have been employed pretty much ever since.

I pride myself on being a dedicated, creative, and goal-oriented employee (except while working jobs that were so deadly boring that I wrote short stories and long emails while on the clock). I hustled my buns off to get a job here in CT, doing long-distance informational interviews, real interviews, and I even hit the pavement once or twice with my portfolio and good attitude all polished up.

But something got me in the way of going to get 'em, and she's about 25 lbs of pure toddler. It's not that I don't want to work at all. I really do enjoy making coffee and getting dressed, and having a clear purpose to my day. I like socializing with colleagues, throwing new ideas into the mix, and trying to squeeze in a work-out at lunch (too rare these days, if I'm honest). But I miss my girl, and feel that our time together during the week is rushed (mornings) or a cling-fest while she vies for my attention, as I try to make some reasonably satisfying dinner (evenings). Weekends are good, but we are also seeing friends and family, doing yard work (sometimes), and before you know it, getting ready for the week ahead.

Many working moms will agree: it's hard to feel that you're good at either job.

I want to watch her grow and reason and learn how to interact. The closest I got to this recently is our time together while on vacation this summer. She was about 75% less whiny because she wasn't threatened by the thought of me leaving. It was amazing, and I wish I could've bottled it. Furthermore, most parents will confirm, this era goes by fast.

I know Edie is happy at her day care. But I want to have more influence over her, and to do the things we did while in Seattle, like bake banana bread or go on a long walk on a Tuesday afternoon. On the flip side, I don't want to be a full-time stay at home mom. I don't think I'd be fully satisfied with that lifestyle. But the gears are turning, and have been for some time, on how to pay the bills and spend more time with my girl, while keeping a foot in the workforce.

Perhaps I painted myself into a corner when we bought a house, and a second car, and we secured all those expenses that go with modern day home-ownership. But I love our home and our neighborhood, and believe we made the right move. Of the moms I know who are raising young kids, there are many common themes. Those of us working full-time (especially those with more than one in daycare) pretty much sign our paychecks over in tuition, and those with one on the way are in denial about what to do when maternity leave ends. Those who stay home are prepared to eat Ramen three times a week to balance the budget of a single income. And a few of my girlfriends have amazing jobs and bosses, and they are more or less happy working and have found the right balance. My hat goes off to them, for sure.

I look at my dad or my uncles who are very talented workers, who run their own businesses and call the shots. I envy their freedom and authority, and wonder how I can establish a sustainable business of my own. I have lots of great ideas and I do have talent, but I can get distracted, or just overwhelmed by the demands of day-to-day, and my great ideas fall aside.

It's a puzzle I try to solve every day.

A real smorgasbord

I've been requested to hop to bloggin' by one of my faithful readers, so I'm dusting off this keyboard to update the world on Chezmoni status. I don't have anything eloquent to say, so this might be a potpourri of random thoughts. A smorgasbord, a mixed bag. Call it what you will.

Top Five Things I'm Excited About:

1. The Bashan Lake Amateur Triathlon (formerly known as the "Fake Tri"), my mom has organized a ladies' triathlon for friends, with a 1/8 mile swim, 5k run, and 10 mile bike ride in September. I've got the running part down, I've done a few (very non-Olympic calibur) laps of freestyle, and my bike is in ship-shape and ready to ride 10 miles. Interestingly, this is my first triathlon, and upon completion I will feel qualified to put a bumper sticker on my car that says 'I Tri'.

2. Edie's new daycare. I'm loving the activities they do, the walks they take to Bushnell park, the daily reports, and the diversity of kids and staff. Her daycare is in the heart of Hartford, and so far it's been great. True to form, she's just warming up this week. They say her silliness is shining through, and I know she'll feel at home there.

3. Ashley's 30th birthday. My baby sis, all grown up this week. She always had the worst birthday time of year as a kid: end of summer, not yet in school to share cupcakes with the class, and it unfailingly rained on every pool party. However, we're grown-ups now and we throw a mean party no matter what the occasion.

4. Lots of ideas are percolating right now. My sister and I have a business idea, I have a t-shirt design idea, and it feels like we're in some kind of renaissance. It's hard to embrace the renaissance with a job, a kid, a house, and a requisite 8 hours of sleep per night, but I'm jazzed about some promising prospects.

5. Baby Boy Edmands, due in late September!

Top Three Things I'm Over:

1. Humidity of summer. Next season, please!

2. My car. Ok, we've had a great run. Over the past 11 year (6 with me) we've clocked a healthy 143,000 miles on the odometer. It's a fantastically reliable car, a real workhorse, but I am frankly over it and ready for a Toyota Highlander or Nissan Murano. Therefore, I bought a Mega Millions ticket today for the first time ever.

3. My clothes. Again, we've really had some good times together. True fact: I wore a shirt the other day from 2003. It's of the Anthropologie vintage so it's held up well, but c'mon. I bought it with prize money in an art show upon graduation. Furthermore, the temp that works with me lives at home in Fairfield County and wears a different Marc Jacobs watch every day of the week, cute flats to match a library of dresses, and generally has a killer sense of style. I might as well wear a muu-muu and Crocs next to her, I feel that lame. Definitely time for a wardrobe refresher.

Top Three All-Time Favorite Vegetables

1. Zucchini

2. Kale

3. Sweet Potatoes

Top Four Favorite Recent Out-Of-Town Visitors:

1. Jake

2. Becky/Vince (they should probably count as one because they're lovebirds)

3. Adrian

Favorite Summertime Pic of Dave:

The hardest job is the best job

Does it seem like I have every other week off? Because I just read my last blog post, which was a summary of my July vacation, and I was all set to write about my most recent vacation. I had a few days off last week. We went nowhere. It was awesome.

We took a couple family bike rides (one a success by Edie's standards, the other a rainy failure), danced and colored, finally did some back-breaking, sweaty yard work, saw a visually and audibly impressive Wilco show, and watched ample Olympics.

Of course I love watching the standard events, and I don't mind the eye candy in a swim suit (I'm lookin at you, Lochte), but I also love watching the parents of the Olympians. I get choked up whenever the camera cuts to them. They are usually decked to the gills in Americana (flags, pins, anything red, white and blue). Are most of them from middle America? A lot of them have that Glamour Shots look, but I appreciate. Their emotions are usually spilling forth. I can empathize with their agony watching their kids, who happen to be the most elite athlethes, perform on a world stage. So of course, I love all the P&G ads dedicated to the Olympic moms.

This, from the P&G web site: Because moms give everything to make their kids′ dreams happen. They carry us for nine months and then keep on carrying us. Through countless sacrifices, they are not only loving nurturers and selfless prodders and motivators, but also alarm-clock setters, chauffeurs, doers of laundry and dishes and makers of breakfasts, lunches and dinners.

I didn't intend for this post to veer into cheese-dome, and I'm a far cry from Olympic calibur, but my mom attended every swim meet, softball, and field hockey game, packed sandwiches and hand-me-down snowpants into our trusty Volvo for many afternoons at Ski Sundown (yes, after work), and was a dogged supporter of any sport my sister and I ever caught wiff of.

After quitting t-ball (I was 7), quitting swimming (age 14) and quitting field hockey (16), it turns out I'm not the best team player, but I've really embraced being an athlete as an adult. So I raise my glass of chocolate milk to my mom!

Glass half full

We had a fantastic getaway last week at my family's lake house in East Haddam, CT.

Five sun-filled days included working out, reading my book on tape, swimming every day, water skiing, drinking coffee on the deck, getting Moose Tracks ice cream at Harry's Place and lobster rolls at the Blue Oar, and general merriment.

Growing up, we always had a pool. Once Ashley and I moved to college, our parents got rid of the pool. (I don't think it was directly related to us moving out, but rather a tree branch crashed down and ended its useful life). When my aunt and uncle sold their 1992 ski boat, my parents got first dibs, and realized they could use a lake for said ski boat. So now we enjoy the fruits of their labor throughout the summer.

Edie was not a huge fan of the water. In fact she held onto me like a barnacle when I walked in with her chest-deep. She was happier playing on the shoreline.

The Blue Oar: delicious summertime food on the Connecticut River, BYOB. White linen pants highly suggested.

Memere had lots of baby time.

The last day there, my parents, sister and I went on a morning cruise. We all skiied. I was so proud to watch them all confidently cutting across the wake on a pristine morning lake. I don't want to think about aging parents, I want water skiing parents. (I also love that my husband skis - and way better than I do - but he wasn't there that morning).

The lake isn't far, but being away with family, and unconnected was a much needed recharge.

And yes, the '92 ski boat is purring like a kitten.

Summer has arrizled!

If you didn't notice the crippling heat and ice cream truck jingles, summer is in full swing.

This weekend was my first trip of 2012 to the beach with Edie. After hunting and gathering clothing, beach chairs, beach toys, and food all morning, we were ready to hit the road. We managed to keep enough room in the car free to bring along my friend, Kelly, and we drove to Rhode Island where my friend Marge rented a beach house.

We arrived to meet up with Marge, and schlepped about half of our gear from the car to the beach, on foot. Camden was apparently not a fan of the beach ("Sand off?? No like ocean!"), and we passed her and Michelle on our way. Edie also doesn't love the ocean and won't let her feet touch the sand, so she insisted on keeping her Converse on (a real beach bunny, huh?). We hung at the beach for maybe an hour then carted all of our stuff back to the house in time for happy hour.

Talia met up with us, and after putting the little girls to bed, we had a great time drinking beers and eating dinner on the back deck, under the neighbor's amateur fireworks show. We've been friends since middle school, and it's comforting to be back among my ladies. I stayed up late (for me), just shy of midnight. It was novel until Edie popped up in her crib next to my bed at 6am, "Hi, mama, hi!" Toddlers just don't get the word vacation.

We managed to spend about another hour at the beach today, but I realized I had a ticking time bomb on my hands and that hitting the road in time for her nap would benefit all parties involved. Kelly and I packed all of our gear back into the car and headed home.

Planning and actually doing stuff takes work, but I do it in the hopes of stringing together a worthy summer. You have to make these events happen, or else you end up with a few hot months of grilling forgettable hot dogs and weeding the garden. But man, 24 hours at the beach with a toddler...maybe next time we'll stay two nights and get a bit more return on our investment. I came home and took a two-hour nap, I was so wiped out.

Transitions

Change is hard. I should know. If we're taking stock, this year we:

• Moved cross-country
• Left two great jobs
• Started three (and quit one) ok jobs
• Transferred Edie's day care
• Bought a house
• Bought a second car
• Adopted a cat
• Got accepted to grad program (Dave)

Damn, son! Moving alone can test your will (and the best of relationships), so it's no surprise that a day without major upheaval is just fine with me. But, we are heading into one more transition: we're taking Edie out of her beloved day care.

Between Dave and my mom's teaching schedules, they can watch Edie this summer. And they want to spend time with her. Her personality is becoming more apparent by the day; she's excited about the world (the moon, bubbles, our cat's whereabouts), sings along loudly to our bedtime songs, and recently started calling me "Shawna" (cute but strange).

And saving a couple months of childcare tuition is a no-brainer.

I've mentioned our provider Nanny before. She is a wonderful, loving person who's run an in-home daycare for 30 years. She has a system down pat and lives for her daycare kids. Edie loves going to Nanny's, where she plays with her boyfriend Griffin ("Griffy") and Isaac. They ride in the "choo choo car", go to story time at the library, and eat fruit salad like it's going out of style. Beyond that, Nanny has every Little Tikes ride-on toy in their catalog, from 1980s vintages to present-day models. We can't hold a candle to her toy inventory (but honestly, I don't want to).

Dave and I wanted to keep the door open to return in the fall, but Nanny couldn't guarantee our spot would be held without paying for it. It just didn't pencil out, so we're back to the drawing board, looking for caregivers closer to home and open later and more consistently, so that we can accommodate Dave's upcoming schedule, juggling teaching with his UConn program to become a school administrator. Oh yeah, and my crazy work hours too.


I told Edie that we are saying goodbye to Nanny this week. I got sad writing Nanny's last check yesterday. You'd think I'd be used to change by now, but it's hard to say goodbye with confidence that we're making the right decision. To those who don't have kids in daycare, it's hard to fathom what the big deal is, but good care is hard to come by, and good affordable care is elusive at best. I have to believe that when one door closes, another one opens, and that we'll find another great place. Maybe even one down the street?


In a way, I look forward to a time when our life will settle down a bit, but the constant change and commotion that comes with being a parent is strangely comforting, and keeps boredom at bay. Note: these pics aren't from daycare, they're of recent play times with cousin Camden and friend Tommy!

Live Free or Die

My friend Eric owns a frame shop in town. He recently set up the shop's web site, built on my fave software WordPress, and has integrated the current brick-and-mortar art exhibit with his site. Eric did an open call for reviewers, and considering I like art and writing, I dove right in. My family and I rubbed elbows with the punkerati on a Friday night, and here's what I wrote. You can also find this review on the EBK Picture Framing web site, as well as a link to the Hartford Courant's review. If you're a local, definitely check out the show.

Live free or die
Armed with the time and inspiration to create, and angst bubbling forth, Tim Wengertsman presents a body of woodblock prints rich with the iconography of his punk-rock tribe. Wengertsman's steadfast perspective on the world is as black-and-white as the palette of his poster-sized prints.

Wengertsman's take on being hard-working but broke, accepted yet afflicted, and boozy flood the page. No space is left untouched. Try not to get lost in the constant patterns and minute details of his story. The fine linework and repetitive icons bring an assuredness to his raw emotions, worn like a sewn-on patch on his sleeve. Joy may not be apparent in his message, but the act of creating these pieces clearly brings peace. Relying on a catalog heavy with skulls, noserings, dogs, cheap beer, and bikes, he's not afraid to broach the heavier subjects of gender and marriage equality, family, religion, and the disparity between the haves and have-nots. PUNKISM affirms that Wengertsman's been shaping his manifesto, and finetuning his iconography, for some time.

Perhaps fueling his palpable aggression, the artist has a posse of punk rock brothers and sisters, who dress and ride and rock-out alike. Together with his undeclared self-portraiture, they are undoubtedly the subjects of these prints. The opening at EBK Picture Framing was brimming with a tattooed crew, outfitted with ripped tights and studded denim. In a world of No-Smoking on shopping mall grounds, this crowd still steps outside the gallery to smoke a butt, and comiserate. They have each other. They don't need you.

The artist may be broke, but he's young and free. By working a job that provides the space to execute his work and the flexibility to tour with his band, he may not be able to buy much more than a six-pack of Pabst, but at the end of the day, he's free to ride his bike, carouse with his punk rock family, and create a solid, politically-charged show of art.