Happy House Hunting

It's Friday again, and far from worrying about what other people think about me, I'm now concerned with not having a new place to live yet and our lease being up at the end of October, which will be here in a few days. I looked at a nice apartment yesterday only to find out today that someone rented it after I left. That's how it is down here. There are too many apartments being converted into condos and too many people who need apartments. Good places need to be snatched up right away, but I need N to come with me to look before we decide to rent a place, and lately that has been an adventure in frustration. He's very busy with work (good) and doesn't have much time free to come with me to apartment shop (bad). Hopefully this weekend we can find something; I'm too high strung to be waiting until the last minute to do this type of thing. I envy those people who own houses and don't have to think about moving anymore!!! **Sigh** I know that we'll find something; it's all about persistance. Getting discouraged now is a bad idea. There's a place for us out there.

Sexy Mamas

With all of the sad and frightening things going on in the world today, you would think my mind should be occupied with thinking of things other than sheer vanity. Alas, today what was bothering my noggin was the simple fact that I no longer feel like I have the vavoom I used to have. It sounds so trite and silly, but part of the reason it's bothering me so much is that in my mind I wonder if my husband thinks I still have that little somethin' somethin' I used to have. It's not an issue of weight; my body is pretty much back to what it was pre-baby, and I'm constantly working on keeping it that way. Maybe it's a matter of attitude. Maybe I "feel" too mommy and wife-ish to feel sexy??? No, that's not it, because I think that being a Mom and a wife can be incredibly sexy things. Maybe it's because I live in South Florida, surrounded by plastic surgery mavens and extremely sexy Spanish women. I'm an all-natural, Irish/Jewish girl-fair skin, red hair, green eyes; far from sporting that dark, exotic look carried by so many of my counterparts here in the sunshine state. I don't even like wearing a tan; it makes me feel like a baked chicken. Maybe I need a style makeover, but more than likely it's something in my head that needs to change. I've never been one to follow the crowd as far as what's in fashion. I was an artist at a very young age, wearing funky looking denim sneakers when I was little because I thought they looked cool even though no one else was sporting them, mixing stilletos with different colored Converse high tops throughout high school, dyeing my hair platinum and painting it with pink streaks. Don't get me wrong, I've been known to wear the latest in hip huggers and camisole tops, but I won't wear them unless they look right for me. I never wear anything just because it's all the rage in Vogue magazine or being flaunted on some far away cat walk. In college I went through a Dead Head phase where I wore lots of tie dyed clothing and long hippie skirts. That is probably the closest I've ever come to following a crowd, but, even then, I was in that mode of being because I loved the crowd I was running with and I loved the music. It was more a state of mind than a state of fashion. At that stage of my life I cared very little for fashion and very much for being an idealist. I was just starting to realize that there was more to being a tree hugger than just hugging trees-that my outward actions were what would make my inward convictions actually create positive change. I think that, back then, my outward appearance was a way of rejecting mainstream society for all of it's ills and trying to attract people who were more like me into my life. Maybe what I need to do is stop comparing myself to other women. Yeah, I'm not 20 years old anymore; I'm okay with that. The thing that feels so strange is having stumbled upon that fact so quickly. Somehow, before I carried the responsibility of being a Mom I didn't really feel like my actual age. Now, suddenly, almost overnight it seems, I really feel like an adult, and it' s a little bit scary. It's not bad, but it's different. My artistic soul sometimes has difficulty reconciling the free spirit within with the adult who has to care for a family. WOW. I love my life, though. So so so so much do I love my life. I've never been happier with my family life or with my spiritual life. For the first time I feel like I'm really in touch with who I am on a spiritual level. I think I know what my personal legend is and I'm trying to follow that inner knowledge of who I am to take the right steps and live my life in a way that is compatable with who I am and who I want to be. Being a Mom and a wife and an artist are wonderful, rewarding roles. So, maybe my focus is just a little off. The joy within should contribute to the beauty without, right?

No News is Good News...

I turned on the news this afternoon to be barraged with nothing but sad and otherwise bad news. The top headline was that the body of a newborn boy was found in a canal here in South Florida, complete with umbilical cord and placenta. I will never, as a Mom, understand how someone could just throw away her child. I understand that sometimes women get frightened about the prospect of being a parent; the idea of being responsible for another human being can be overwhelming and quite scary. There are options to leaving a baby someplace to die alone, however. Here in Florida a woman can leave a new baby at a firehouse and at any hospital with no questions asked. Then at least someone else will have a chance to raise the child and to know the joys of being a parent, and the child will have an opportunity to have a life. This story bothered me more than any of the others I saw this evening, because of the sheer tragedy of an innocent little baby being thrown into a canal and left to die. Following this story was a plug about contaminated bagged spinach (apparently someone working at a produce factory someplace forgot to wash their hands after they used the toilet???), which was disturbing considering my husband and I just ate bagged spinach last night. It was organic, so I don't know if we still fall into the cone of risk. So far, so good. Neither of us is experiencing nausea or exploding diarreah. Right after that story came a follow up to inquiries into the death of Anna Nicole Smith's son, Daniel. Imagine waking up in your hospital room, flushed with the joy of recently having given birth to a new baby, and having that joy turned to horror when you realize that your oldest child has passed away just a few feet from your bed. Follow that story up with the disappearance of Trenton Duckett and the suicide of his mother. I pray that this beautiful little boy is found alive, but the circumstances around this story seem a bit suspicious. The only good news was that Clay Aiken has given up his creepy look in favor of a more Beatle-esque style. Oh goody.

9/11/2006

While I was aware today of it being "9/11", I avoided watching any of the many programs about the horror of this day five years back. My only review of the attacks came from a slide show sent to me by a friend. The truth is that I want to move forward. I don't want to forget; indeed, how could any of us forget what happened that day. But, it makes me sad all over again to wallow in the details of the attacks, to look at the pictures, to read/hear about how the attacks were planned out. So many people's lives were effected by this event and I think the way we all look at the world changed after 9/11. No more do we feel immune to terrorism in our country; no more do we take it for granted that our airplines won't be hijacked or worse; maybe we love our friends a bit more deeply and cherish our families all the more because we're painfully aware of the fragility of life and of how quickly our lives can be altered or cut short. I choose not to live in fear, however, but in awareness. Moving forward means we win; it means that our spirits can't be defeated. I think that's the best way to honor those who died that day.

Funny Friday

Okay, AT, I'll bite:

Cruel :: Heart
Jive :: Talkin'
Weak :: Kneed
Understand :: Me
Bum :: Rush
Stairs :: Goals
Tone :: Hue
Quickly :: Smile
Moment :: New York
Beating :: Chicken
Wiggle :: In
Face :: Time
Adjustable :: Bed
Room :: Mate
Easy :: Sunday
Store :: Room
Maid :: Den
9 pm :: Already
Challenge :: Taken
Debt :: Nightmares

Will the Real Anina Please Stand Up

Here she is, my new adoptee. She goes to the vet tomorrow for her first visit. Hopefully she doesn't have worms or anything wrong with her, but tomorrow we'll find out. She seems to be happy in her new home, although the litter box isn't impressing her too much. This afternoon I found three little piles of poop around our bedroom. Unfortunately, my daughter found one of them before I did and had it all over her leg. Gross!!!! Of course, I freaked because I don't know if the cat has worms yet, so into the bath with the baby. This gave N another reason to dislike the kitten which is a bummer because I'm trying to convince him that she's a great addition to the family. Work with me, will ya Anina????

Anina

The Hebrew name Anina means "answer to a prayer" and that's the name of my new kitten. She was dropped off at my apartment yesterday morning by a girl friend who found her shaking and terrified on the engine of her car. Small wonder it is that she wasn't killed; her soft meowing saved her life. Anyway, knowing that I am a sucker for animals she brought little Anina to my house yesterday, which pretty much helped me decide that the condo N and I were thinking of renting was not for us. Beautiful though the condo is, they don't allow motorcyles, nor do they allow private washers/dryers, which for me is a necessity (although I was willing to give that much up for the killer, brand new kitchen that came with the condo) and the place doesn't have a bathtub, which I need for the babe. N was not happy about the motorcycle deal; he would've had to have parked the bike at a friend's house and it would've been a drag to have to retrieve it every time he wanted to riding. I'm not sure the "condo commando" atmosphere would be suitable for either of us; we both tend to balk at people telling us what to do, especially when they are telling us to do stupid things like not park a work truck outside the building. Just where the hell are you supposed to park your work truck, which makes you the money to live in the building in the first place? Oh the phoof of some poeple. Anyway, the kitten was an answer to my prayer that morning when I asked God to show us some sort of sign if he didn't think it would be best to move into that place. It was so gorgeous, spacious and inviting that I personally could not make the decision to say no on my own. God knows that I'm a little dense when it comes to "signs" and so He had to work fast. Had the sign been something other than a living, breathing being who is now depending upon me for her well being I might have decided to manipulate it into a sign that told us to take the place and throw caution to the wind. This picture isn't of our kitten, but she looks very much like this. I have taken a couple of digital shots but neither one does justice to her cuteness, and besides that I don't have time right now to schlep out the camera and download the pictures to my computer. Life of a Mom, don't ya know.