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.

The Great Kitzmans and Catsby

We hosted a couple of very special guests recently: Grammy and Papa Kitzman! They stayed with us for the week and doted on Edie from sun-up to sundown each day. Dave and I sat back and enjoyed the reinforcement, taking advantage by working out in the morning and crashing on the couch while our poor guests did the dinner dishes. It was like having two loving live-in nannies.

Unfortunately they didn't get a great taste of East Coast spring weather. However, they were googly-eyed over Edie so I don't think they noticed the cloudy skies. They tried to get their fill while here, snapping as many pictures and stealing kisses at will. They took us out to eat and we brought them to the Bushnell Park carousel, the Capitol, and the Michaud lake house on sunny Mother's Day. All in all, we had a great time with Dave's folks, and they're planning to come back at Christmas.

In other news, we adopted a cat from the Humane Society. Dave and I are more dog people, and have never been into other people's cats. They're so fickle. But we don't have the time or energy to devote to a dog right now, and Edie is a huuuge fan of cats, so we thought, why not? Now that we own a house we can make these kind of grown-up decisions. Uh-huh.

All the cats at the pound have bios that include their name, sex, health issues, etc. They indicate whether they tolerate kids, dogs, and other cats. Pretty much 90% of the cats do not 'like' young kids. If Chairman Meow has sat on Grandma's lap while she crocheted for 10 years, it's understandable that he doesn't care for sticky-fingered toddlers. There were two non-obese female cats that didn't outright detest kids, so we took 'Bubbles' into the adoption room and got a closer look. Bubbles seemed chill, friendly, and curious, all good cat qualities. Because I am the mother of a toddler, I will give her age in months: 17. We filled out the paperwork and promptly changed her name to Catsby. (I was reading The Great Gatsby for book club...the name stuck, but I can't say I finished the book).

I'll spare you all the furry details but this cat is cool. I'm pleasantly surprised that both Dave and I really like her. She tolerates Edie, who's not inhumane, but does chase her and throw treats in her face while she's eating. She sneaks around our yard acting like a little lion, and then comes inside to get a drink and take a nap. And she is cuddly and affectionate. I told Edie her purring means she's happy. Edie said, "Happy? Happy. Happy!".

My secret garden

Anyone within earshot knows that my job has been getting me down. Ever since the new year, our department has been slammed. I work long hours doing a job that generally doesn't fit my skills and interests, and sometimes I don't get a breath of fresh air until 6pm. I often sit and wonder how I landed at such a desk, in such a place, after having a career that I loved so much in Seattle. Well, I met up with some girlfriends for dinner a couple weeks ago. A conversation with my friend about my job led to talk about "The Secret". She went through the gist of the book, and I gathered what I could over the Friday night hoppin' restaurant din. The gist: think positively, good things will come. (I'm sure Oprah, Dr. Oz, or both have exploited "The Secret" and its concepts.)

This isn't news. I've held on tight to my book "Creative Visualization" by Shakti Gawain for about 8 years now. The pages have yellowed. The principles of Creative Visualization are that energy is magnetic, and form follows thought. When I apply myself, the practices outlined help me get what I want. I've envisioned things or events that I want to happen, and made "treasure maps" and wrote out scenes as I want them to unfold. It's uncanny how many things have manifested when I put some time into envisioning my ideal scenario, from giving a work presentation with confidence, to meeting an awesome guy, to being approved for our mortgage.

I haven't read The Secret, but I believe it tells a similar story. After our conversation, I decided I was tired of holding onto a mess of negativity related to my job. It's destructive, exhausting, and unhelpful. I decided to think happy job-related thoughts, and got motivated by putting myself back on the right professional path. I had an upfront conversation with my manager, and contacted some colleagues, mostly people that I don't know, to talk about opportunities. I contacted other people within the urban planning field, both to volunteer and to inquire about their jobs and and the paths that led them there. It's within my reach to write my own story. At the risk of veering into cheese-saturated self-helpdom, I really do believe this.

When we were looking to buy a house last summer, I fell in love with ours, and getting a mortgage was a long, drawn out process that involved a charade of inept lenders on the other end of the line. There were a few months of high stress paper trails, and at times we felt that this house was going to slip through our fingers. To make myself feel better, I wrote out an ideal scene and found it recently. In it, I described our yard as a secret garden, a respite from the world. Do you agree?

I know a place where we can get away

...it's called Brooklyn!

One of the perks of moving back to CT is proximity to the greatest city on earth: NYC. It certainly helps that I lived in Astoria and worked in Manhattan for 3 years, so I have a basic understanding of how it works, and that my sister lives in Brooklyn with her family. It's so good to have a place to visit, and a reason to go. I doubt we'd just ride into the city much without a free place to crash. Before our visit last week, I asked my sis that our trip be on the cheap. She said it was definitely do-able, and was up to the task. You've heard of the $20 New York rule, right? You can't step off your stoop without blowing a $20 on nothing- a coffee, a pack of gum, a subway ride, and a beer, and your money is history.

We were on a relative shoestring but of course had to go to happy hour...

order delicious Indian food...

workout at Prospect Park...

...and eat bagels with lox, and visit the coffee shop a collective three times in 24 hours (no photos to share). Other highlights included not falling asleep during the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, and Edie got her cat fix with poor, unsuspecting Zeke!

We love our Brooklyn brothers and sisters, and can't wait to go back.

Trying hard to feel cool

I don't know if a single part of my life makes me feel lame, or if it's a composite of multiple elements. Living in a suburb, which was our choice, makes me feel displaced from the pulse of culture. To any suburban-raised city-dweller, I'm sure this comes as no surprise.

Here's an example disconnection: when living in NYC circa 2006, I dreamed of moving to a new corner of the country. In my research of the Pacific Northwest I learned of KEXP, Seattle's most robust, alternative not-for-profit radio station. I streamed their station to my PC at work, and fell in love with this faraway city. I envisioned a sleepy, gloomy metropolis with good music pumping from every city bus. KEXP features live in-studios, album reviews, DJ mixes on podcast, and free audio candy on their website daily. They avoid canned radio-friendly hits in favor of a broad range of artists and genres. I mean, I like Adele as much as the next American, but the local radio slaughters her by playing Rolling in the Deep ad nauseum.

When I uprooted to Seattle, the familiarity of KEXP and its DJs served as a bridge as I settled into my new city. KEXP didn't fail to disappoint (except for Wo-Pop, their weekly foray into world music). Since the station is "listener-powered", they don't air car dealership or 5-Hour Energy commercials. Instead, they do quarterly membership drives, and their connection with the community (and Seattle's deep pockets) is broad. I was a happy supporter of this invaluable cultural resource. When we decided to move to CT, the prospect of saying goodbye to my favorite station bummed me out.

As feared, here in Hartford the local radio fails to excite or educate (ok, NPR does educate). My brother-in-law introduced me to "Somebody that I Used to Know" by Gotye this past weekend and it was the most amazing song I've heard in a while (besides The Black Keys new album, El Camino). It brought me back to my two-glasses-of-wine-and-download-iTunes days as a single Seattle gal. This song came out in December, and this was the first time I heard it? I felt late to the party.

Granted, I can stream KEXP at work on my phone, and I suppose I could download their podcasts for my morning commute....maybe that'll make me feel better about driving to work in my Subaru, off to corporate America. My other proposed antidotes to uncoolness are:
a) visit my sis and family in Brooklyn regularly
b) keep reading New York and Bust mags so I know what's up in the greatest city and the world of hip ladies, respectively
c) return to Crossfit and kick the sh*t out of suburban blues

Home Improvement on a Budget with a Toddler: Part 1

Hello faithful readers.

My mother-in-law has put in a request for more Edie photos. I admit that picture-taking (and posting) has decreased by a solid 85% since Edie's first year. One explanation is that so much more time is spent engaging and chasing her and making sure she's not climbing into the dishwasher. We are no longer staring googly-eyed at a cute, immobile, magical baby. Another reason is that Edie's hip to the iPhone and wants it. Most picture-taking ends in a grabby cry-fest. So we keep it to a minimum.

But now that I have my own iPhone I've been messing around with Instagram. With a click of a button you can make your photos look straight out of 1963 (see below) or 1982. You know we like that old timey ass shit. Anyway, I will try to post more Edie pics today.

I've been tackling some small-scale home improvement projects, including painting the kitchen (with my parents), consulting my Aunt Kitty who is making us living room curtains, framing artwork, and changing light switch covers. The woman we bought our house from straight-up loved polished brass fixtures. I do not. And I don't think anyone else in this house cares, so I'm the project designer, manager, and foreman.

I've spent quite a bit of time pouring over magazines like Rejuvenation and Smith+Noble. I mostly order samples because they're free, and I feel like I'm making some kind of progress. I'm a long-time fan of blogs such as Apartment Therapy and DesignSponge. I love collections, color, roadside finds, affordable artwork, modern design, and shoestring solutions (which is why Smith+Noble is more an idea source). Although built in the '40s, our home is in great shape and has been well maintained, but I haven't really dived into making it ours. Here's early Saturday morning playtime caught on camera. I consider this a 'before' photo. Note the lack of curtains, stopgap entertainment unit (made by my Dad circa 1978), and wisp of blue on the walls. Can you spot the kiddo?

Here's a close-up. I love the morning light.

I'll continue to post as we make progress. Next on the to-do list: paint our hallway, which is a grand undertaking that will include painting up a staircase, and installing new kitchen lights (again with the brass- it needs to go!). My Dad is eager to knock down the wall dividing our kitchen and dining room, and we're on board, but we're not yet there financially. In the meantime here's some parting family shots.

Edie's obsession: Daddy

Good night!