Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Frugality Diva-Style

Most women don’t realize that you can dress like a fabulous diva without spending much money. I am on a tight budget, but always manage to look Diva-riffic. Trust me. Even when I dress the family all matchy matchy for newspaper photographers.

The holiday party season is all but over, ladies, and my mind is wandering to new outfits for the new year. This year is all about grays. Dark gray, light gray, mid gray, bright gray, and always paired with a candy color.

So you need a new pair of jeans, and you are dreading the dressing room mirror? First of all, always remember to wear the size that fits; if that means going up a size, do it. Sacrifice your pride in your size tag, and you will look all the better for it. In fact, start with the larger size; if it fits, you won’t have to ask for the next size up. If it is too large, you get to ask for the next size down. And, for God’s sake, leave the skinny jeans on the shelf, channel your inner Katie Holmes, and grab the wide legs. SOOOO cute, sooo flattering, and MUCH more comfortable. Trouser cut are awesome, just avoid the pleats.

Things you can still use from last year: anything trapeze cut; soft sweaters and brown pants; babydoll dresses and empire-waisted tops. We are moving into a phase of more layers, but with less extravagant detail on each layer (think large solid bags instead of logo-ed, glitter-ed, buckle-ed and bling-ed large bags), and I truly believe we are only seeing the beginning of the comeback of the chunky heel. I myself am hoping for variation of cheapo Uggs for Christmas, so I will be wearing those all winter/spring.

And the most important rules of being a Frugal Diva…only buy things you love, make sure they go with more than one thing, and ALWAYS have fun with your clothes.

Monday, December 17, 2007

I think I just became Charlotte York.

I finally sent in my wedding announcement today. I’ll post it next week when it is printed, but suffice it to say I tried to infuse as much rebeccy-jasonness into it as possible. Sarcasm and smart-alec comments, in other words.

An hour after I sent it in, I got an email from the Features Editor. Apparently, they pick an announcement to do a feature story on every week, and this week, they pick us.


Good gracious, I hope I am as fascinating on paper as I am on email.



My excitement and nervousness is abundant. I think my wedding story is fascinating, and I hope everyone else does as well.

Jason is home on seasonal leave, playing house husband. He and Violet have spent the entire day cleaning in preparation, and will tomorrow as well. I will be laying out all of our clothes tonight so as not to clash on the FRONT PAGE OF THE LIFE SECTION.

*faints with feverish excitement.*

Friday, December 14, 2007


There is something about a sunny Alaskan winter day.

The sun slowly snakes up between 10 and 11 am, giving me a full view from my office window of purples and oranges against an ice blue sky. It hits the clouds so the edges glow as if electric currents run through them.

The sun glows white up here. Everything is clear and crisp. When you see the sun Outside (as in not Alaska) for the first time after months here, you can see it has a distinctly yellow glow. Alaskan sun burns clean.

It tricks you into thinking it is warm outside; then you step out and the first blow of bracing cold takes your breath away. When you can breathe in again, the cold travels all the way to your stomach. However, instead of horrible, it feels wonderful: like you are breathing your first breath, ever.

Life is covered in freeze-dried perfection. The trees are preternaturally still, all slender branches and waxy winter berries. The roads are packed down from millions of studs from thousands of tires. Telephone poles and street lights glisten with a thin layer of frost. It is preserved in a Currier and Ives picture print.

Night ascends quickly on Anchorage. Light turns to dusk in the blink of an eye, dusk to dark in another blink. The last bits of orange and blue hang on as long as they possibly can, before they are pushed out by the deep purple that will remain throughout the Alaskan night.

These are the days that make Alaska legendary.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Being Jolly

I adore Christmas.

As a child, the tree would go up the day after Thanksgiving. Dad would put the wire branches into the plastic slots of the tree they had had since before I was born, then he and mom would wind colored lights and silver garland around each layer. My parents Christmas records, Rosemary Clooney and Bing Crosby, would take turns with the Chipmunks record I wish I still owned. We would all be drinking Boiled Custard from Holiday Stemware that was purchased from Fast Food Joints in years before.

Ma would sit on the couch and hand out ornaments, while we each clamored for our favorites: the soft ones shaped like Cinderella’s mice; the Styrofoam and sequin balls made by my baba. She would guide us to the spots least populated, and make sure each of the four of us had a favorite in the front.

When all the baubles were hung, Ma would hand out the silver tinsel with the instruction to Watch for Clumping. I pulled the tinsel across the branches and left only a few strings, while my brother favored the toss-at-the-tree method.

The angel was placed on top of the tree by a different kid each year. I remember when I was 16, my father lifted me up to place on the angel for my last Christmas before heading off to college. The Angel itself is a memory: for the first 15 or so years of my life, it was a porcelain-headed beauty about the size of my palm. She wore a filmy white dress and was attached to a plastic star. My Aunt Carrie made us a new one, much taller and more elegant; I still kind of miss the old one, though.

After the angel was placed, we plugged in the lights, and turned off the overheads. The four of us sat on the couch and stared at the tree while my father explained the symbolism behind the tree: the Angel who told the good news; the Candy Canes representing Jesus the Shepherd; the lights for the Star of Bethlehem. It still makes me feel fuzzy inside.

It has been 4 years since I have decorated a tree with my family. The trees in my home are beautiful and coordinated; they light up the house and cause my guests to exclaim. However, they don’t have that soul of a tree decorated by children. Violet is still too young, and though she tried to help this year, she mainly just tore the tops of the bulbs, then demanded to be put to bed. She does love to stare at it, though. I cannot wait for her to clamor for ornaments and throw tinsel at the tree.

Christmases will just keep getting better and better.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Geesh, I am such a drama queen.

I have been out of my blogging loop for a bit. I have been reading faithfully, ya'll, and thinking about commenting or, heck, even posting at my own site. But I have bit a bit too down at the mouth.

I don't talk about my job. It is one of the blogging rules: you don't talk about your job cause you could get fired if the wrong people read. I won't break that rule now except to say I am...unsatisfied. I am taking measures. When I see how those measures work out, I will let you know.

The thing is this: I am smart. Honors student. Creative. Theatre major. Funny. Trust me on this one. And I care about people. And none of those muscles are being flexed.

Instead, I feel like an imbecile. Like a caricature of a secretary. It causes me to doubt my own particular talents, though I know they are true.

I know most people are unsatisfied in their work, and yet are able to muscle through it. I know I am not this type of person. I need to feel I am accomplishing something. That I am an integral part of the team.

So please forgive me for the morose tidings. Please forgive me for not being here. I put so much effort into Happy Family Time in order to combat everything else that I never seem to have the energy for glibness.

Keep me in your thoughts, and know I am thinking about you all. I am here.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Jason's Vows

Because She Likes Purple

There is this blog written by a girl named Jennie.
This blog is hilarious and poignant. This blog makes me laugh and cry. This blog makes me want to steal her post ideas and make them my own. Which I sometimes do. But always give her credit for.

Jennie is one of the coolest people I know. She is funny, articulate, and stylish. Otherwise known as the Fabulous Triple Threat. I want to hang out with her. Of course, her being in Texas and my being in Alaska, as well as the fact that we only know each other through the blogosphere, make that a little difficult.
The other day, the doorbell rang 20 minutes after I got home from work.

The UPS guy stood there with a Crate & Barrel Box.

(Did you think it would be Jennie? This is not a Garry Marshall movie, come on!)

Jennie had sent the most beautiful crystal. The only crystal I received for my wedding.

Picture from since my camera is still broken.

Thanks, Jennie. You rock the hardest.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Goodbye, Yellow Brick Blog

My Blogging Life started the same as a lot of other mommybloggers: through reading a beautiful pink blog.

Amy truly is Queen of Everything to us. You laugh through an entire post; thinking, " This happened to me the other day, and you know what, it is hilarious!" Or you read of her son's therapy and doctor's appointments and cry as you send as many good thoughts as you can her way. She is the original RockStar, and if I wasn't so sure I would COMPLETELY HUMILIATE myself in some devastating way, I would rather meet her than anyone. Even Oprah. (gasp!)

Amy has this little blog called Mom's Daily Dose. She fills it with links to other blogger's posts that she deems worthy. The day she linked to my blog, my hits went from hundreds to thousands. She has THAT kind of power.

Mom's Daily Dose had its last post today. This, for me, is like selling your first car. My experience being Dosed was a confirmation; it was realizing that there are people out there who see what I have to say. People who will get a little ole' piece of my own personal opinion. This was truly the 4th proudest day of my life.

Goodbye, Mom's Daily Dose. You gave me the courage to write, the heart to bare it, the brains to be my own voice, and you made the blogosphere feel like home.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007


When I was 21 and teaching Kindergarten in a small private school in Kentucky, I decided to enroll in the University of Alaska Anchorage.

I had met my best friend at that time during my short stint at a private college. She was from a small town in rural Alaska, and was transferring to UAA. Since I had never been to Alaska, and I was realizing teaching 5 year-olds how to read, write, and behave wasn’t for me, I embarked on the pivotal adventure of my life.

Alaska is state like no other. In the lower 48, there is some rivalry between states, sure; in Alaska, they call everything else “outside”. As in “not in the hip arctic circle”. “Are you staying here for Christmas?” “Naw, I am going outside.”

Local TV ads are filled with hunters, fur coats, furnace companies, and both sides of the oil business. It is not odd to see a commercial endorsing exploration immediately following one condemning it. Our most famous Alaskan to other Alaskans is Ted Saddler, owner of the Mattress Ranch. He does a flailing chicken dance to his theme song. Every single person you meet up here will know the next line if you say, “Get more--sleep without counting sheep…”

I am surrounded on three sides by mountains on my drive home. The forth, way past downtown, is the Cook Inlet - icy and gray, with glacier silt and muck for a beach.

I have been in traffic jams caused by moose calves walking across the road. There were two bull moose sparring outside my office this morning. My office is in midtown, by the way. Not the woods.

In the spring (by which I mean mid May), the ground thaws and brings a pungent smell of dung and fertilizing earth. People who own dogs clean up the masses of poo accumulated over the long winter when it was impossible to get to. If you were so unlucky to have a pet die during the winter, you take them out of the freezer and bury them.

The leaves don’t stay for long, and they don’t change to gorgeous autumn colours. Vitamin D supplements are necessary from November to April so the short daylight hours (I believe there were 6 of them today) don’t cause SAD (seasonal affective disorder) which makes you, well, sad. There are more months spent in my winter coat than out of it.

But when you see the purple sunsets, the baby moose, the fields of wildflowers, the clear mountain streams…it is a little easier to swallow.

Friday, November 16, 2007

You Cannot Get Rid Of Me That Easily, Strep!

Yes, I spent the week on the couch with Strep. At least there was plenty of Law & Order to keep me occupied.

Every once in awhile, I am grateful for a few days of sickness. You sometimes need that time of uninterrupted sleeping that you don't have to justify, because, well, you are sick and you can't be forced to get off the couch and make dinner and do laundry so DON"T EVEN TRY.

I am lucky in the sense that because I work full-time, when I get sick, Violet can still go to daycare. And I can spend a Disney-channel free day completely zoned out. And, also, I have a lovely husband who complained only minimally that he had to drop off Mister Hayden and the Violet in the morning. He also rubbed my feet. For a few seconds. But it still counts.

I am better now. I am resuming normal life. I did try unsuccessfully to justify one more day one the couch. Jason and my conscience said no.

I had to try. I have 6 more Law & Orders on tivo.

Thursday, November 8, 2007


It is 40 degrees.
Since I have lived here in the great norther tundra, I haven't before seen a Halloween without snow. Now it is past Halloween, and though the sky is dark and the day is only 8 hours long, there is still no sign of snow.
Not that I am complaining; when the snow does come, it will be here until May. It is just...disorientating.
And I am wishing for the fresh, clean blanket of white that makes the dark easier to manage. This will be our last winter in Alaska, we hope to be in Florida by this time next year. I suppose I want to squeeze as much snow in as possible.
Says me now. I will be eating these words in January.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

The Hopkins Family Goes To The Sea

Why, yes, those are breasts, why do you ask?

NaBloPoMo Day 7!!!

Tuesday, November 6, 2007


Jason is a computer nerd.
If given the choice, he would play first person shooter games from dusk till dawn. However, when I was pregnant, the very sound of the game would make me vomit. All those footsteps...clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop...blech. even the thought of it it now still drives me insane.
But he loves me.
So when the sound got to be too much, he invested in headphones. When Violet is awake, he puts away the violent games. He instead plays with us. When I tell him I feel neglected, he doesn't play for a few days. And he always turns it off if I need something urgently, like time to Internet window shop.
The thing is, the games focus him. The residual effects of his previous life of addiction leave him with scattered thoughts, and he becomes dull and cranky when he hasn't played for a while. He is honestly a better person when he plays; it is his form a therapy.
He doesn't watch sports, he lets me control the remote, and always listens when I talk.
Game on, baby. Game on.

Monday, November 5, 2007


Last night, Jason’s cell phone rang at 11:50. PM.
As I stumbled through the house to find it, I anxiously debated in my head who it might be. My mother? Did my dad finally have a heart attack? No, she would have called my phone. Ali? Did she throw her husband off the balcony? I don’t know if she has my number in her new phone, but she did call Jason before, so that could be…

Me: He-hello???

Stranger Calling To Bother Me At Midnight: Hello, I am calling about the online ad.

Me: (Stunned Silence) um…What?!?

SCTBMAM: The ad about the Nissan for sale.

Me: It is midnight.

SCTBMAM: Oh, I’m sorry, is it too late to call? I am sorry to bother you.

Me: Um, yeah, just call back tomorrow. (Hang Up)

Me: Jason, if that idiot calls tomorrow, jack the price up a couple hundred bucks.

NABloPoMo Day 5!!!

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Bonnie & Clyde Go To the Pumpkin Patch

Beautiful Bonnie and Clyde

Violet rocks at knock-down-the-pins-with-your-hands bowling.

My Fabulous Flapper

NaBloPoMo Day 4!!!

Saturday, November 3, 2007

I can't make hollandaise.

Granted, it was my first try without using a store-bought mix (don't knock it till you try it, dude!) but it was not encouraging. There were chunks. And it tasted more like a butter-vinegar sauce. Which you won't finds on any restaurant menus. For good reason.
(Jason is watching the golden child on TV right beside me, so forgive me for any disjointed, 80's thoughts.)
A picture from yesterday morning...

NaBloPoMo Day 3!!!

Friday, November 2, 2007


Darn you, Anti-depressants.

Darn you for causing insomnia till 3 am, thus allowing me only 4 hours sleep.

Darn you, minuscule amount of sleep, for allowing me to sleep in until I was supposed to BE at work.

Darn you, sleeping in, for letting the toddlers be fully awake while I was trying to get ready.

Darn you, toddlers, for getting into the trash, climbing into the shower with your toast, finding the toilet scrubber, for losing slippers all over the house, and basically being so adorable that I had to cherish my crazy morning.

NaBloPoMo Day 2!!!

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Stick 'Em Up, and Give Me All Your Sanity!

There is nothing more adorable than my Violet girl in a sparkly purple flapper dress, complete with feather boa, sequined head band, and patent leather shoes. Except maybe ten-month-old Mr. Hayden in a grey pin-striped suit with a purple shirt and tie. Oh. My. Word.
She and her “cousin”, Jenny Jenny Jen Jen’s Hayden, went as Bonnie and Clyde; let me tell you, they were the belles of the ball.
We attended a fall festival at church. There were plenty of activities, but the only ones Mr. Hayden and the Violet were into were a)knocking all the plastic pins for the bowling game over. By hand. And b)being surrounded by cooing admirers taking a mass ton of pictures. Violet was hamming it up Tyra-style. She is so my daughter.
There was also the 20 minutes she climbed all over the indoor toddler playground, even stopping to take off her shoes to get better traction up the slide. Oh, well, at least she kept the dress on.
They were so frickin’ adorable. I’ll post some pictures as soon as I get them, though I must warn you, the sheer adorability may break your computer screen.

NaBloPoMo Day 1!!!

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

SOOOOOOO Scary....

Two weeks ago, I signed Violet’s name on a piece of paper under the word “Cupcakes”.
Yesterday in the grocery store, I debated cake mix flavours with Jason: we knew there had to be no nuts, but were trying to decide if 15 toddlers would rather have Strawberry or Funfetti. We went with the Funfetti, cause, according to Jason, “Nobody doesn’t like Funfetti.” The frosting was easy: Betty Crocker Whipped Cream Frosting…perfect for cupcakes.
I hand-whisked the batter to make it just a little fluffier. I ladled each cupcake paper exactly 2/3rd full. I baked the perfect amount of time to ensure fluffiness without any burnt tops. I let them cool for an hour on the counter. I had mixed red and yellow food colouring into the frosting, stopping every minute or so to ask Jason, “Is this orange enough?” When it finally was, I carefully slathered each cake with the lovely orange frosting so that it had a lovely smooth top, with the edges just peeking out, like they would if you bought it from the bakery. I then sprinkled each one with fine black sugar sprinkles. As I lifted each one into the plastic container, I was so proud of myself. I could picture each toddler’s eyes lighting up when they saw this uber-lovely confection.
I saw Violet yell, “Cupca!!”, reach up higher than I thought possible for her little 18-month-old frame, and grab the entire container of cupcakes. The lid stayed on, and they all survived the trip. HOWEVER. All my careful frosting work and sprinkles are all over the lid. No longer on the cupcakes.
Eh. They are toddlers. They’ll gobble them up anyways. At least I knew how pretty they once were…
Happy Halloween, everyone!!!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Fabulous is Easy: Cause I Want It Thaaaaaaaat Way

We strive to be cool. We want people to think we are cool. But how do you become cool?

I have no clue.

However, I do know clothes.
Clothing is one of those elusive educations. It is not a math formula, where x will always equal…well, whatever x equals. I suck at math. No sometimes, x = q, or 17 - q, or 157 + q in a ski hat. The line between Hot Stuff and Totally Tacky is very fine, my dears. Positively microscopic.

I tried very hard for a lot of years to teach myself fashion. However, it didn’t come to me until I LET GO of my inhibitions, and STOPPED STRESSING. By the time I realized I had natural style coming OUT MY EARS, I was in my twenties. (Yes, I am bragging. There are few things that come easily to me, so I like to talk about them a lot when I find one.)
Anyhow, back to that fine line. You see, fashion is on a 20 year cycle. Which means that what you are wearing this year, you should be able to wear in 2027. And conversely, what you wore in 1987 should be totally hot this year. HOWEVER: this cycle has been shortened as of late. Instead of 1987, we are seeing recyclings of the early 90’s. Chunky shoes and browns and grays; babydoll dresses and even plaid.

(I would LOVE to find an original Backstreet Boys t-shirt from the mid-nineties. Not from anything later than 2000, cause that would no longer be hot.) (Yes, I am serious.)

Anyways, even though things are recycled, you cannot just wear them as you did before. NOOOOO, that would be TOO EASY. Baby doll dresses should be worn with jeans and heels or ballet flats, not tights and mary janes. Chunky shoes should either be worn with knee-length skirts or pants long enough to reach the ground while you are wearing them. Plaid should be done as a shirt, shorter skirt, or top; NOT AS PANTS. And dull colours need to be matched with bright accessories.

And cheezy concert tees should be at least 10 and no more than 16 years old.

And most importantly, fashion is FUN. Wear whatever you wear with joy.

THAT is hot.

Monday, October 29, 2007

conversations with a violet

violet: woof!

daddy: are you being a puppy?!?

violet: woof, woof!

daddy: you are such a good puppy!

violet: ah geh puppa?? (i get puppy??) *follows up with large eyes and innocent expression, lower lip quivering in hope.*

She is only 18 months old, for crying out loud. If she already has the manipulation thing down this well, we are never going to make it through the teen years.

Friday, October 26, 2007


Idea totally stolen from Jennie...

I have two best friends.

I met Jen (Jenny Jenny Jen Jen) when we were assigned as roommates at the University of Alaska Anchorage. We both played shy for the first couple of weeks, then completely and irrevocably bonded over root beer floats and a cardboard cutout of Elvis. She has seen me through countless relationships and their subsequent break-ups; we laughed so hard we cried and cried so hard we laughed.
There have been times when we didn't speak for months. Not because we were angry, but because our lives were meandering down their own paths. But each time we got back in touch, it was like there was no separation. We expected (and received) total straight talk from each other, no matter how disheartening it was. And nothing ever seemed insurmountable, because we each know the other will be there.
Jen is a single mom. Her sweetheart of a son was born with a hole in his heart. He had surgery and is now healthy as the proverbial horse. Violet calls him "Boy" and cannot resist slathering him with kisses every time he comes over. She has been through so much, but has come out of it on top.
She started practicum for Nursing this week. The Boy comes over in the mornings at 5:30 so she can be to the hospital on time. This is the least I can give to her to show her how proud I am to be her best friend.

I met Alison (the incomparable Miss Ali) when I worked for the State of Alaska. She trained me, and we soon bonded over The Office. Before long, we had a standing weekly date to watch the show and fawn over Violet Lynn.
Ali met Violet when she was about 3 months old. Though she is not a baby person (by her own admission), she jumped headfirst into a role of fairy godmother. Violet adores her and her golden hair; Ali always jumps at the chance to babysit. Now, Ali doesn't leave our house without a big kiss from the baby girl.
She was my biggest cheerleader (outside of Jason) during my bad days with PPD. She was sitting on the couch beside me when I realized that THAT was what was wrong with me, and I COULD get help. She has always had a sweet word and big smile.
She is one of the most cynically hilarious people I have ever met. She and Jason have matching personalities, and she has really been influential in drawing him out of anti-social JasonWorld.
I was able to give her some support when her marriage was having issues. This is the least I can do to show her how much she has meant to me.

These girls are the ones who save me from myself. I cannot and do not want to imagine life without them.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Here comes that fabulous bride...

Ominous things you can see: stormclouds.
Ominous things you can't see: 7 black flies biting my ankles through the WHOLE ceremony.

My baby girl didn't sit still for a second throughout the ceremony...but I loved it.

My darling girl...she adored her bouquet, which was a smaller version of mine.

AWWWWW!!!! Gag me.

The motley crew known as the wedding party.


The gorgeous cake my ma decorated

Right before this, Jason said, "Please don't shove it in my face, Reka." Who did he think he married?!?!

We miss you already, Panama City Beach.

On a side note, thank god you are back, Jennie!!!! I missed Purple!!!!

Wednesday, October 24, 2007


Miss Flinger informed me that today is Blog Day for the Mothers Act.

Here is a blog about my Post Partum Depression.

I am doing much better these days. I sing and dance again. I love getting dressed again. I have energy and focus.
Most importantly, I know I am the best mother I can be. I was meant to be Violet's mother, and I know I am not failing. This is not to say I am perfect. I have bad days, I have tense moments, and sometimes it is hard to rise above. But now I know I can.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Fabulous Is Easy

TADA!!! My first Fashion Passion Column!!! Thank you, Crystal, for the question!!!! (Please note my camera is still broken and thusly, I had to employ my Paint Program.)

Okay, I would like advice or suggestions on hair scarves. (Is that what they're called? Shows up fashionable I am.) I have long, curly hair and own one scarfy thing but I think it is too thin to contain my head of hair. Also, when I tie it at the base of my head it always meanders on up and ends up falling off and making me look more disheveled than when I started. Wanna bite on that one??

Dearest Darling Crystal, you are one of the lucky ones in this category. Curly hair is thicker by nature, and can hold its own next to a scarf. Don't be afraid to try bright colours and bold patterns.
On the whole, though, scarves are tough. They generally fall into two categories: Biker Chic and Rhoda.

I personally wear Biker Chic quite a bit. This is not something to wear to the office, mind you, but if you are running errands, doing housework, or hiking and would like to keep your hair back, this is perfect.

You use bandana that looks like this, available at any fine discount retailer:
There is only one acceptable way to wear it if you are planning to see someone other than your immediate family:
folded into a wide headband and accompanying a bun/ponytail.
NOT folded in half diagonally and worn like a Hell’s Angel.
Because this will ALWAYS make you look like a pirate. It doesn’t matter how beautiful you are. YOU WILL ALWAYS LOOK LIKE A PIRATE. If you are a pirate, then go right ahead.

Rhoda is a lovely, lovely way to show the world your bohemian side. (Think Rhoda Morganstern. Yes, THAT Rhoda) This is acceptable for the workplace, and anyplace short of the symphony.
Generally, this is performed with a longer, narrow scarf.
Wearing your hair down with this is completely acceptable, and will help to keep it in place. While your hair is up (which is an adorable look), however, it is going to slip and slide. I wish there were a foolproof remedy, such as hair spraying the scarf before you put it on. Unfortunately, it would have to be glue strength, and I DO NOT recommend that.

Instead, I usually fasten bobby pins in a inconspicuous place, like behind my ears; I put one going forward and one going back. It works fairly well, especially if you tie it a bit looser.
A la Bardot is another option.
See that space in front of the poof? Put the top of the scarf there. It will stay in place pretty darn well. And yes, you can pull it off. This look is pretty darn universally attractive.

And always remember to pair a headscarf with sunglasses when trying to pull off a caper...

Monday, October 22, 2007


Just a few general announcement, darlings.

1) I have a new car. My steady trusty Nissan died 2 weeks before the wedding, so my lovely husband, the incomparable Miss Ali, and her man-servant went on a mission. They came back with a 2003 Kia Spectra and spent less than my maximum. Her name is Rhoda.

2) Tuesday blogs will now be dedicated to fashion. I will let you know my fashion feelings, and will also take reqests and questions. No pressure, and I do not claim to be an expert; I just realized the other day that my blog didn't contain much fashion, and it made me sad.

3) I finally got some of the wedding pictures from my mother in law. I will post ASAP.

4) Violet turned 18 months on Saturday. She is closer to 2 than 1. She is a little person with an enormous personality. I get choked up a little. More on her adorability later this week.

Thanks for reading, by the way. You guys totally make my day. Seriously.

Photo from 11/2006 and way too Freakin Adorable

Friday, October 19, 2007

3 Coins in My Violet Fountain

Thanks to Misguided Mommy for the challenge...

My darling, I believe there is almost nothing you will not be able to achieve on your own. You are independent and strong, and I cannot wait to see what you do with these qualities. I will do my best not to push you to be an artist, and to encourage you even if you decide to be a mathematician. I hope you make your own choices, and never be influenced by what I think you should be. There are some things, though, that I wish with all my heart you experience.

1. I hope you have girlfriends. Boys do make wonderful friends as well, but there is something about a circle of estrogen that fuels the soul. I feed off their energy, they nourish my soul, and because of this, I can be a better mother and wife. A better person. I hope you find the girls that will help you find yourself.

2. I hope you have heartache. Though this may seem cruel, your life will be incomplete if you never have your heart broken. The pain you will have will tell you that you loved. You loved honestly and completely enough to have your heart ripped out. Hopefully, the girls I mentioned in #1 will help you through this. There is nothing like weeping in to a bowl of ice cream with your girls. And there is nothing like falling in love again after the heartache.

3. I hope you fail, and I hope you do it spectacularly. The only way to appreciate your success is to have it elude you. I hope I will teach you to get up after you fall, and to always ALWAYS give it everything you’ve got. Things are so much sweeter if you have to fight for them.

I love you, my angel baby. I know you will become amazing. I know you will have to hurt to do it. I hope you will always know I will be here with a hug and some cookies to ease the pain. I am already so proud of you.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Million Dollar Baby

I know I promised wedding talk, but I got something else on my mind, ya’ll.

Ash has been having trouble with her daughter’s kindergarten bully. She is struggling with what to tell her daughter to do when someone is mean to her. This is making me think of my own daughter.

When Violet moved up to the toddler room, there was a little boy who kept biting her, ramming toys into her, and trying to pull off her pants. I know this is normal toddler behavior, but it still made me mad.

Violet bit him back. Hard.

She got written up, and received a lecture about being nice to others.
But you know what? I am proud of her.

I don’t want my daughter to be mean. I don’t want her to lash out for no reason. But if someone attacks her physically or emotionally, I want her to fight back. I want her to know she is strong and does not have to put up with abuse.

An alarming and unacceptable amount of my girlfriends have been in abusive relationships. This is not right. We need to be teaching our daughters that they are too good, too lovely, and too precious to withstand punishment. I don’t want my daughter to be stuck in a job where she is taken advantage of, like I am. Or in a relationship where she is made to believe she deserves abuse, like my best friend was.

Kick, Violet. Kick, scream, bite, punch, demolish.

I can handle a few detentions.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Back in the Saddle, or What I Did On My Wedding Vacation

That is right, precious readers, I am back with a new last name, a slight tan, and an extra 8 pounds. WooHoo Florida!

Coming back from my wedding, I realize I am in love.

Hmmm? With Jason? Well, yeah, but that is not what I meant. I am married now. No more of that romantic crap.

I am in love with gorgeous beaches containing sand as fine as baker’s sugar and water so salty you shouldn’t have to season any of the creatures that come out of it.

I am in love with my sisters and mother who basically cared for my daughter for two weeks to let me have a vacation. And also still made her sign “please” whenever she wanted something.

I am in love with said daughter, who ran around in as little clothes as possible, knocked down every sand castle, and was basically the cutest thing you have ever seen.

I am in love with discount stores, like TJ Maxx, where I got a full set of designer bedding, new down-alternative duvet included, for less than $150. We have no such creatures here in the frozen tundra.

I am in love with the Seattle airport, where they have a room just for toddlers, with big, rubbery toys to climb all over during 4 hour layovers between 5 hour flights. And also a fabulous food court.

I am in love with all the people at my wedding who took tons of pictures because our camera broke two days before the wedding, and we didn’t want a professional photographer. I will love them even more if they remember to send them to me.

And I guess I am in love with Jason, too, who wore a straw cowboy hat and aviator sunglasses the whole trip; who did not question the mountains of bags brought home from shopping trips with my sisters; who never failed to pick up a check; who wrote his vows to include lyrics from the BeeGees and Dido, chose Peter Gabriel for our wedding song, and cried during the father daughter dance.

Next time: Things I Don’t Love, or What To Do When Black Flies Will Not Stop Biting Your Ankles During Your Wedding Ceremony.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

A Letter to Myself as a Teenager...

Thanks to Amy for the challenge...

Dear Teen Me,

You. Are. Fabulous.

I am proud of you. You are wonderful and friendly; you do not distinguish between the jock and the geek. In fact, you know that you will get more satisfaction out of dating the geek. You are smart, and your grades reflect that. You are fun, and your friendships reflect that. You are brave, and your theatre work reflects that. I would change nothing about you.

Remember that you are loved. Though you may sometimes not understand the ways your parents show their love, it is pure. One day, you will have a daughter, and you will know there is nothing sweeter or stronger than a parent’s love for their child.

Don’t let anyone tell you that you are a disappointment. Every experience you have will lead you to the person you are meant to be. Failing is a big part of that. Don’t be afraid; rather, don’t let your fear stop you from doing something risky. This will result in you moving far away and meeting your soulmate; this will result in you knowing the best love there is.

Fall in love. Yes, it hurts. Yes, you will have your heart broken. 4 times, as a matter of fact. This only makes the REAL THING that much sweeter. This also may result in you finding the job you are meant to have.

Don’t throw away your poetry. It may not be great, but Older You will miss having that glimpse into your mind. And, honestly, it is pretty good.

Pink is your power color. Yes, you look good in red; however, there is hardly anything you can’t have when you are wearing pink. It matches your aura.

I am not going to warn you against anything. I am not going to tell you what decisions not to make. You must make your mistakes to become the woman you are meant to be. I will only tell you that you will be happy. And remember - no matter what happens, the pendulum always swings back.

Oh, yeah, don’t throw away your chunky black loafers. They are back in this season and I can’t find a pair anywhere.

The Amazing Person You Will Become

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Bad Blogger! Bad! No, No, No!

I have only posted once this week.

Oops. Sorry, guys!!

I have been crazy busy, I have been unfocused, I am trying to get everything done for a wedding 3,000 miles away and realizing that there is not much I can do. And Violet has (another) ear infection.

So...thank you, Rima, for making me a Nice Matters blogger. It really means so much to me, I teared up a little when I read your blog. I promise to pass it on soon.

And Jennie, I will answer your questions soon as well. And they are gonna ROCK SO HARD your eyes will melt.

I will be back and Fabulous again as soon as I can hear something other than the BUZZ of un-focus-ey-ness inside my head.

Ciao! (she said in a completely tacky and pretentious way.)
Don't hate my mama cause she forgets to post! Look at how cute I am! Doesn't she deserve some slack since she makes such gorgeous kids?!?

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Prada, Prada, My Kingdom for Some Prada...

When I worked for the Box Store, I wore whatever I wanted. It was usually a form of khakis and a t-shirt. The only stipulation was that I couldn’t wear jeans; this, of course, meant that I only wanted to wear jeans and I was unsatisfied.

When I worked for the movie store chain, we had to wear red shirts and khakis. While it was nice to know what you were going to be wearing every day, and it cut out a large amount of prep time, all I wanted was to choose my own clothes and I was unsatisfied.

When I work as an admin, I wear dress trousers and simple shirts. I mostly wear ballet flats or brown sandals. I try to spice it up a bit with some crazy jewelry, but since my hair has gone metallic blonde, I keep it rather simple. Cardigans, camisoles, buttons, and cuffed pants are the bulk of my work wardrobe; I cannot wear jeans every day, and I am unsatisfied.

I find myself wishing for a job at Old Navy, where you are expected to wear jeans. Or even a place where I have to wear polos with logos on them. Of course, my fantasy is to stay home with Violet and wear designer sweatsuits everyday…

Perhaps I will never be satisfied with the clothing choices I am expected to make. I have heard from somewhere that the grass is always greener on the other side; I suppose the clothes are always better over there as well.
Someday, though…someday, I will wake up and grab whatever speaks to me before heading off to work.

Is it sad that my career ambitions pivot on clothing?

Thursday, September 13, 2007


Thanks to Miss for the challenge...

I am a pretty open person. I have talked about my weight, my depression, my lovah, my baby. What haven’t I talked about?
Me Before Baby.
My secret?

I didn’t want to have kids.

I was a theatre major at the University of Alaska. I wanted to own my own theatre company someday; therefore, I put a lot of time into doing every little crappy job in every little production I could. I would spend 12-14 hour days in the Theatre, not caring, barely stopping for lunch. I loved it.
I was so happy. I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. Even if I was just scraping sticky glass off the stage, I was still there, breathing in the theatre.
I was actually a bit of a rising star, believe it or not. I got parts in some very edgy shows, I was known as a reliable stagehand, and I was rubbing elbows with most of the Higher-Ups in my theatre community.
You would have never seen me on the big screen, stage was my love, but I could have made a life out of theatre. However, this would have involved long nights, long days, little money, and living in poverty. Fun and tasteful poverty, but poverty nonetheless. I knew that if I was going to be the theatremonger I wanted to be, a child would never fit easily into that world. I was willing to make that sacrifice.

Then I got pregnant.

I left school and got a full time job. Jason and I both have been working full time (and more) since we found out we were having a baby. I provide for my child. I am our household’s primary breadwinner. I do not regret Violet; the most important, wonderful decision I ever made was to keep her. She is the best thing I have ever and will ever accomplish. Everyday, I am convinced again I made the right choice. I work hard to make sure it is remembered that is was my choice, and nothing that Jason or Violet pushed me into. They have taken nothing from me, only given me love and pure joy.

But I know that there is no job that I can ever do that will make me as happy as theatre did. Sometimes I feel I doomed to never have job satisfaction.

Violet is worth it, though.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007


Jason got me sick. It is a good thing we are not married yet, or this would be grounds for divorce.
Since I have nothing to say other than, "Oh, man, the smell of (insert any object in the room containing slight odor, eg: computer, shoes, my hair...) is gonna make me hurl," I will use this time to insert old pictures of the baby monkey. Enjoy!

"Ma, I gotsta
call my peeps!"

My angel baby
learning to crawl...

Violet learns to accessorize...

Baba (my ma)
teaches Violet
the true meaning
of Christmas...

Jason's favorite picture...

Tuesday, September 11, 2007


I have been reading my last few posts, and thinking maybe, JUST MAYBE, I have been being a bit dramatic.
What can I say? Sometimes Fabulous = Big Ole Drama Queen. But now I shall lighten up. For a while at least.

I went grocery shopping last night with the lovah and my little angel baby. Though some look as family grocery shopping as a Chore That Is Equal With Chinese Water Torture Only Worse Cause People Stare When Babies Scream And At Least You Are Usually Alone When Receiving CWT, we love to go shopping as a family. Violet will pick up stuff off the shelves, and Jason spends most of the time sneaking them out of the cart and putting them back. If something is on the bottom 2 shelves that we need, we let her get it for us…which usually takes about 7 tries to actually get the one we want, but she feels like she is helping.

Last night, though, she stayed in the cart because her Daddy, gem that he is, had already opened the bag of Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies. She has recently learned the signs for “more” and “please”, and since Jason cannot resist the adorability of Violet Signing and Grinning, she ate about 7 cookies while we were shopping.
7 cookies.
She still ate dinner after that, so it can’t be that bad, right?
(I am gonna use that baby sign language thing next time I go Rebecca Needs New Pretties shopping…)

Try telling me no. I DARE you...

Monday, September 10, 2007


Though it has been regurgitated quite enough already, I have a few thoughts on Britney Spears.
Brit Brit…I grew up with you. I was pregnant with my first child as you were with your second. I was diagnosed PPD as you were shaving your head and trying to find a new identity.
Though I am simply a Fabulous Blogger and you are The Superstar, I feel your pain.
You were so cemented in who you were before, that it is a painful floundering scramble to regain any of that after motherhood. With every child, there is born a new you; you have different habits, different hobbies, different goals. While the New, Improved Mother Version is a wonderful thing, you have to let go of the Original.
This is incredibly difficult when you loved the Original, when the Original was a fabulous, glittery entity.
In reality, it doesn’t matter who you are. The effect is the same whether you were a Dean’s List Theatre Student or The Biggest Celebrity Ever.
There is a grieving process. You shaved your head. I took the more subtle approach of bleaching my hair and gaining 20 pounds. Either way, it is the modern equivalent of sackcloth and ashes.
There will be mistakes. There will be people who judge. There will be rude comments. There will be pain as you try to reconcile what everyone thinks you should be and who you feel you are. Just hold on. It will get better. It will get easier.
For what it is worth, you handled that VMA/Sarah Silverman thing much better than I would have. If she had spoken about my kid, called her a mistake when I thought she may have been listening, maybe even staying up late just to see Mommy on TV…there would have been bloodshed. Much much bloodshed. Good on ya for still performing.
And that is all I have to say about that.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Feeling Rather Hornet-Like

Today, I stumbled across this post at MamaPOP! (is that the correct spelling? It's how it looks in my head...)

I am not shy in my love for Glamour Magazine. I think that there is something truly magnificent in the way the use models from every size in the spectrum, zero to 26 and beyond. I have written poems about my feelings on this subject. I truly felt I had found a publication that got me, who understood who I was, who loved me back despite-and maybe even because of- my flaws.

Now, I am disappointed. Crushed, really. Considering cancelling my subscription.

America Ferrera is simply divine. She is funny, she is gorgeous, and she is real. WHAT would posses the editors of a fabulous magazine to insult her and her fans by changing her body?
To top it off, they put "Ugly Betty is HOT!" by her picture. Yes, Glamour, she is hot, she is naturally stunning, and she does not need you to change her in any way!

This is reminding me of how I felt when Jennifer Aniston slimmed I have been betrayed. Pre-Pilates Rachel was lovely and curvy and looked like a normal, beautiful, healthy twenty-something. Post-Pilates Rachel was still lovely, of course, but we lost some of the connection. Some of the innocence, if I may be dramatic.

All in all, I feel like I am in high school, and the hot guy was being nice to me and telling me jokes, then called me a cow when he thought I wasn't listening.

I am listening, Glamour. Oh, I am listening.

They get one more chance.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Woe is me...I doth suffer

So, I spent the long weekend not feelin' so good...The Cold That Ate My Weekend came on all abrupt-like, and made me a very whiny woman. My lovely lovely boy provided me with ginger ale and chicken soup and uninterrupted Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes. I love my boy.
I did receive a reprieve...we went to the state fair on Sunday. That is a whole 'nother, picture laden post.
I am back to work today. I am feeling much better. By which I mean, my throat was attacked by rabid felines, and icy grips of death keep moving along my abdomen...but the snot is almost gone!

By the way, I may be a bit of a drama queen.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Goin' to the Chapel...

My Google Countdown tells me that there is 37 days till my wedding.

Can I get a holla?!?!

Plans are in full swing. The invitations are still sitting on my desk, but we won’t talk about that.
We are having a tiny beach wedding. I am expecting about 25 people as a high estimate. Everyone will be barefoot, and they will be sitting on beach chairs or towels. We are having a barbecue for the reception, and my dad will be performing the ceremony. I plan to ask both my parents to walk me down the aisle.
With the exception of my two best friends(who I understand can’t make it, and it is ok, I promise, it really is, you two better just give me one kickin’ bachelorette party), everyone I love will be there.
I promise to post lots and lots of pictures. For now, here are a couple of my angel baby to tide you over.

I can’t wait!

"You got out the camera, Ma, you must deal with the hammy consequences!!!"

Wednesday, August 29, 2007


Jason and I talked into the night last night.
It has been a while since a deep midnight discussion did not result in me crying or Jason getting frustrated, because PPD will do that to a person. Last night, though, was sweet. We were both serious; the joke-cracking was minimal, which is a large feat in our house.

Jason is a recovering Meth addict. He has been sober for a long time now, more than five years; however, anyone who has ever had contact with addictions can tell you that the fight never ends - you are never “healed”. Meth has a 6-7% rehab success rate, which means that 93% of people who become addicted will never be clean.
Jason didn’t just wake up one day and decide he was going to stop. There was a long climb back to Sober, and it took years. He went through horrors that I will never be able to fathom, and he came out on the other side.

By the time I met him, he had been clean for a couple of years. He has worked his way up to middle class, earning everything he has. He is the most devoted father I have ever met; his life circulates around his partner and his child. If you passed him on the street or met him in line at the supermarket, you would never be able to see the shadows in his past.
He is my hero. He is my rock. He knows strengths I hope to god I will never have to find. Occasionally, in the dark of night, he will tell me I am more than he deserves.

I really think it is the other way around.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

The Least Mommy-Like Thing(s) I Have Done This Week...

Thanks to CrystalSnow for the challenge...

This. Is. Hard.
Not because I have something I am too embarrassed about, or because I want everyone to think I am the perfect mom.
The truth is, we have been pretty liberal in our parenting style. She learned to play on her own early on, she is HIGHLY independent (and thusly stubborn), and she is super active. We parent by instinct; we have tossed out information gleaned from all kinds of parenting manuals, everything from The Happiest Toddler on the Block to Baby Sign Language. (Note: I have NO PROBLEM with any of these manuals. They just didn’t work for me, Violet, and Jason. Every Family and Child is different, and I applaud those who find manuals that work for them. Thank you. *cue music and public service announcement logo*) Anyways, that usually means a lot of stuff we consider normal falls short of the ModernMommyMark.
So, un-mommy-like things I may have done this week would include…
  • Trimming Jason’s Mohawk
  • Making Violet dance to Journey
  • Trying to teach her that “L” on the forehead means “Daddy”
  • Walking my daughter through the Halloween aisle at Michael’s so she can see all the scary decorations, which she loved
  • Feeding Violet curry
  • Letting her stack dvd cases into different piles, since I still haven’t bought her any blocks
  • Watching Scrubs while we ate dinner (Scrubs has been Violet’s favorite non-handy-man-or-blue-dog show since birth. Yes, we let her watch TV.)
  • Um, we let Violet watch TV

So, there you have it. A partial list of my failings as a mother.

Good thing I am fabulous.

yep. yep, that is chips and salsa I am letting my 1-year-old eat, all by herself. maybe I should add that to the list...

Monday, August 27, 2007

Pumpkin Musings

Here in the Great North, Fall comes a bit early. While the rest of the country is getting their last dregs of summer, we are enjoying (and I use that term loosely) leaves changing colors, crisp sweater weather, and rainy days.
Luckily, I adore the fall. I adore the orange palette, the crisp air, the pumpkins and the gourds, the crisp rustle of dried leaves across the sidewalk.
Whenever I imagine my dream home, I picture it in October. The street is canopied with the same orange and yellow leaves that blanket the front yards. There is a hint of smoke in the air from some neighbor burning his share. There are jack-o-lanterns on the stoops, decorated by the children running wild around the block, savoring the sweet freedom of that space after school ends and before dinner is called.
In my current home, we refer to it as the beginning of “decorative towel season”, those months when the towels hanging from the oven door and the rack in the guest bath are only to be touched in case of dire emergency. (read: in the span of time it takes to get from the closet and back, blood loss will result in death.)
This fall, there are a lot of things to look forward to. I will officially be a married woman by mid-October. My daughter is gorgeous and smart and huge; this will be her first real interactive Halloween. This is also the first year we have not been living paycheck to paycheck, hoping fervently that we will have enough money to get groceries. I am not entirely used to it yet, but I am having fun in the meantime.
So, here is to the new season. I hope yours is as good as I intend mine to be.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Good Mornin'

Rebecca: Did you know that you are the cutest girl in the whole world?
Violet: Yup!

Getting Violet ready for "school" in the morning is my favorite time of day. My princess is a morning baby, always has been. She gets up with a sleepy happy huge grin on her face, and starts babbling, reaching for her clothes, leaning out my arms to shut off her light on the way to my room.

When we get there, I put her in the bed with Jason, where she crawls up and lays on his pillow-the only way I have found that wakes him up in a good mood. (well, the only pg-rated way.) She lays there with him and they chat while I change her diapers and get her dressed. I comb her hair and put it up, then she is off to explore my closet, my make-up, her toy basket until daddy puts her shoes on.

Jason takes her to daycare. As I head out ahead of them, I ask for mama kisses, and she obliges with a loud "MMWWA!" She waves bye bye and blows me kisses until she can't see me anymore.

How did I ever live without her?

Monday, August 20, 2007

Drab is Fab

Fashion has caught up with itself, and now the clothes I remember from the early 90’s are making a comeback. The stores are full of shapeless dresses and thick colors. The question is, how can a truly fabulous Big Girl wear these clothes without feeling like an elephant?
As with all things, we must take it in moderation.
Trapeze necklines are huge, enormous, voluminous this season. Though you will be walking through the store, say Old Navy, and be tempted by something like this, resist!
Instead, continue on down the mall to Torrid, and try for a top as opposed to a dress. This jacket or this shirt are both lovely options, and also fit in with the deep tones of the fall.
“But, Rebecca,” you may say, “why would they make it in my size if it wouldn’t look wonderful?”


They really shouldn’t. But they also shouldn’t still sell tapered jeans a la 1997, or Cosby sweaters, or alcohol based hair products…but they do. We must do our part by resisting.

Old Navy does do some things right, though, such as this little number that I just ADORE. Great saturated color, great shape, kimono sleeves and single large button: this is the epitome of this season. Feel free to drool along. I got this sweater in grey and oh my god, this is the most comfortable shirt in my current wardrobe. Buy it. Wear it. Love it.
Also at Torrid…check out the Into the Woods collection, which has some lovely items, including this dress that I didn’t even want to show you because I want it so bad…

Live in a warmer climate, but still yearning for the yellow and brown color palette of the fall? Try this adorable shirt from

For outerwear this season, try pea coats with interesting details. For example, this one from is made of looped fleece, and therefore much softer that the usual wool. The shape will still be structured, but not quite as militant as the norm.
There is also this lovely lovely plaid mini trench from Torrid that I want to marry. Stupid laws…
And finally, try out some plus calf boots this fall. has a lovely, large selection with sizes from 7 to 14 in widths from M to WW. My favorite is this riding boot in chocolate brown. Embrace the flat boot! Give your feet a break from heels while you can!
Enjoy the brown this fall. And remember, you don’t have to be thin to be fabulous!

Friday, August 17, 2007

I don't know what a Meme is, but here it goes anyways...

stolen from lizarita...

Hi, my name is: Rebecca
but u can call me: Fab-U-lous!! Just kidding. How about Becca?
Never in my life have I: gotten paid for something i loved. It is always just jobs that can support my non-paying hobbies.
The one person who can drive me nuts is: Jason
Second place goes to: my brother
My high school was: Canadian
When I’m nervous: I chew on my hair. i know, gross. and possibly damaging to my lovely head of gorgeous hair.
The last song I listened to was: I Have a Theory from the Buffy Musical Soundtrack.
If I were to get married right now, my maid of honor would be: Both of my sisters. Who actually are my maids of honour for my upcoming nuptials.
My hair is: bobbed and dark brown with gold streaks. will be changing again soon.
When I was 4: I was reading at a 2nd grade level.
Last Christmas: I was sad. I wasn't diagnosed with PPD until late January.
I should be: working.
When I look down I see: My toenails. Which are painted Sinful Apple.
The happiest recent event was: Violet saying "kica" (kitty cat) then "eeow" (meow)
If I were a character on ‘Friends’ I’d be: slightly neurotic but ultimately cool,living in a rent controlled apartment and surrounded by other neurotic but ultimately cool city dwellers.
By this time next year: I'd like to have my real estate license.
My current gripe is: my wisdom teeth are trying to break free on the bottom...
I have a hard time understanding: computer games.
If I won an award, the first person I would tell would be: Jason
I want to buy: a house. and a ford focus 5 door. and a closet organizer. and so many clothes it could choke a donkey.
If you visited the place I was born: you would hear banjo music and squealing pigs.
Where do you plan to visit: my mom's.
If you spent the night at my house: you would stay up all night watching some of our vast dvd collection and drinking wine, then get up noonish for a lovely homemade breakfast feast. but you would have to sleep on an air mattress in the baby's room.
The world could do without: haters
Most recent thing I’ve bought myself: hair bleach. And smokey gray eyeliner.
Most recent thing someone else bought me: Jason bought me cheesy tots. does that count?
Out of my friends, my favorite blonde is: TIE! Not my fault both best friends have blonde hair. so it is Jen and Alison. Jalison.
My favorite brunette is: my sister Bethany.
My favorite black hair is: My sister Mandie.
My favorite red head is: My Ma
My middle name is: Lynn. Same as my mother and my daughter.
In the morning I: am going to watch cartoons with my daughter.
Last night I was:not sleeping cause i was mentally planning my wedding.
The most important thing to me: My family.
If I was an animal I’d be a:(n) elephant. Laid back and takin' it easy.
A better name for me would be: Diva
Tomorrow I am: going shopping with Jen and her Hayden and my Violet...we luuuuv to shop...
Tonight I am: Cleaning with Jason, maybe watching a movie, mooning over my beautiful child...
My birthday is: February 1st. And i am SUCH an aquarius.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

I have a theory...

and it has nothing to do with cheese. or bunnies.

I think airlines are behind America's driving need to be thin.

No, seriously, hear me out.

OK, on order to fit comfortably in an airline seat anymore, you must be under a certain size that i myself have not seen since i was about 5 months pregnant. The seats are this small so that the airline can fit more people on the plane. Thereby making it more money.
A couple of years ago, I got upgraded to first class. I got a hot breakfast, complete with fruit, eggs, roasted potatoes and beverage of my choice. Now, you are lucky to get a packet with crackers and spread cheese. And that is only on long flights. Thereby saving the airlines money.
In order to get onto the plane, you must either a) walk down a 2 mile walkway into the hobbit hole they call an airplane door, or b) walk up a NAAAROOOW rickety little rolling ladder to same said hobbit hole. The point being that you have to be at least a little athletic to get into the damn plane in the first place. Thereby making you a smaller person once you are on the plane, one they do not need to provide snacks nor large seating for.
OK, maybe that was stretching it a bit.
What can I say? It's just a theory.

just a little fun

"I am Ninja Baby! Feel my ninja pain!!"

Monday, August 13, 2007


(Warning: this blog not for the easily nauseated. May induce "gag me with a spoon" reflex.)

I am a lucky, lucky girl.

I have the most wonderful, beautiful, funny, smart man. I worship him.

Jason is a smart ass. If there is a sarcastic comment to be made, he will make it. It is funny, even if it is directed at me. (Though I have to pretend to be totally pissed off. You know, to save face.)

He has hazel eyes. They are sunken, bedroom eyes. In the morning, they are wide and terribly innocent. By night, they are hooded and intimate. They are framed by straight eyebrows that go up in the middle when he puts on his sad-puppy face. I always have to give in at that point.

He is tall, 7 inches taller than me, but you cannot tell because he slouches. His shoulders hunch forward to accommodate for a curved spine; though this should make him look like Quasimodo, he looks instead like James Dean.

He is ropey. Skinny, but with sinewy muscles right under his skin. His body is covered with scars from the lifetime he lived before me. I barely notice them anymore, but when I do - I love them. They tell the story of Jason.

He is sensitive. He cried at The Notebook, at the Bridge to Terebithia, and when Violet was born. He snuggles better than anyone and always holds my hand in public.

He is smart. He is smarter than I am. He gets all my geeky jokes. That may be on the reasons I love him most.

I love everything about him, though. I love the way he eats cereal when he is sick. I love the way he gave me a nickname no one else had ever come up with. I love how he does dishes and cooks and changes diapers without ever insinuating that it is woman's work. I love how he watches HGTV incessantly. I love how he loves animals more than he loves the average human. I love how spoils me and lets me have a clothing allowance even though there is no Jason allowance in the budget.

I love how he loves me. I love how he brings the fan to me every night because I always forget. I love how he goes to the store to pickup flour for me, even though he doesn't want to. I love how he is helping me plan a wedding he doesn't think is necessary because in his head we are already partners for life, but he is still printing invitations and sticking labels and looking at 42,000 dresses.

I love how he is totally committed to me and how there is no part of him that wants any other woman.

I love him because without him, I am just Rebecca. With him, I am Reka the girlfriend, mother, friend, confidante, lover, partner in crime, and so many other things I am still discovering.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Ode to Glamour Magazine

I adore you, Glamour.
I adore you for your honesty,
For your knowledge that we are not all thin,
And for having affordable chic clothing I might actually buy.

I adore you, Glamour.
I adore you for your courage,
For putting real plus-size girls in swimwear,
Though your genre is driven by societally acceptable beauty.

I adore you, Glamour.
I adore you for your consistency,
For never putting a big girl in tunics and leggings,
For actually giving us hope that we are ok just as we are.

(by the way, I don't work for them or anything. i just love their stance on fashion. that is should be for everyone.)

Thursday, August 9, 2007

Love Words and Toddler Leashes

I have been on a steady climb up the Denim Quality Ladder for a long time. I started with "vintage" jeans from thrift stores, moved up to No Boundaries at Walmart, then made the jump to Old Navy, where I have been for a long time.
For a girl from the poor part of Kentucky (read: rilly rilly po'), Old Navy was glamour for me. Jeans long enough to fit my legs (i am like, 30 % torso and 70 % leg), with lots of different washes, and $30.00 a pair?!? Kinda pricey, but worth it. :)
But this weekend...I found a new love.
His name is Z. Cavaricci.
His jeans are like butter. Seriously. So comfortable, it is like wearing sweatpants. So cute, I have no qualms about wearing my "I brought sexy back" t-shirt. Trendy, but still classic enough to last through a few seasons. I want to talk about them ALL THE TIME. Jason says I need to stop.
They were $52 a pair.
More than half my monthly clothing allowance.
I don't care.
If you go by use, they will more than pay for themselves. Within a month, I bet.
Anyhow, enough of that. Onto the next!
While I was in the mall buying the jeans to end all jeans, Jason was watching Violet. Watching her run out of the store and down the center of the mall, then taking off after her. She found her way onto the runway of the Baby Gap fashion show that was going on, over to the kids coloring station, then back to the store. With Jason tailing after her the whole time.
We is time for a leash.
Yesterday, while researching them online, Jason came across this little gem.
The thing is, lady, that my kid has freedom and independence coming out the wazoo. She is smart. She explores. She solves problems when she comes across them. All with a highly-involved mother and father cheering her on the whole way. We encourage her to go on adventures. We wouldn't do anything to squelch her inquisitive, hyperactive spirit. Which is why we don't have a playpen.
Did she go there?!?!)
Yep. I sure did.
I know not to fight bile with bile. I am just trying to explain my point of view. When we are home, the monkey we call Violet has run of the house. She can explore all she wants. We keep the dangerous things out of her reach, we shut the toliet lids, and keep anything we don't want her to break in the cupboards she can't get into. But I never see any reason to keep her in a 3x2 box, no matter what we are doing. She "helps" us clean. She plays. Yes, it is annoying when she turns off the TV in the middle of Top Chef, but that is nothing to make her serve time for. And it has been that way since she was born. We didn't fence her in, and now...she is comfortable enough to explore her surroundings.
This might not work for your kiddo. Some babies want the walls around them. Some need that security to be comfortable. That is fine.
Mine does not. She wants to be free. She worked really hard to learn to run, and now she wants to do it A LOT. The leash is not to keep her from doing that. The leash is to help us keep up with her. We don't want her to heel. We want to be able to follow the monkey tail and know which rack she just crawled under. Or up. And I refuse to feel bad for that.
Plus, as the incomparable Miss A says, it is a lot harder for the pedophile to snatch your daughter when she is attached to you.