Malcontent Mama

I can see clearly now

2008-11-05T09:33:00.001-06:00

Oh happy, happy day!

Rise and shine

2008-10-16T06:54:00.002-06:00

the lights were too bright for Annie this morning.

What not to give your son for his fourth birthday

2008-10-10T10:49:00.000-06:00

Family Music Festival

2008-10-10T10:31:00.007-06:00

Life among the Savages

2008-10-10T10:15:00.007-06:00

They clean up real nice.

Where are we?

2008-10-02T17:07:00.004-06:00

Grappling with growing pains and transitions. Change is hard and our family mobile has been spinning wildly with the unexpected gusts. We're hanging tough but by a thread.

I believed that Kindergarten would be the magical marker when everything would get easier. Instead, we've been weathering the storm that is my daughter (and us by default) as she gets acclimated to her new stomping grounds. Ever brave, my girl bounds in but then blows when she gets home exhausted and overwrought. By bedtime and after some fierce tantrums, she breaks in tears and eventually reveals the seeds of her torment. Last night the issue was being part of the Red Team that lost in PE which has par for course in her litany of slights. We've had to stifle a few laughs too. Annie was absolutely inflamed when a boy chanted "Boys got to college to get more knowledge/ Girls got to Jupiter to get more stupider." But to her everything is a real, immediate heart ache. For the past month I've played therapist as she's effectively sobbed herself to sleep. Even worse, she's started anxiously apologizing over nothing- that is when she's not barking full tilt.

To complicate already complicated matters, we've been patching together the after-school arrangements to the great dismay of my family. I wish I had the where-with-all to be waiting with milk and cookies at 2:45pm but it ain't going to happen- at least at this point. So we scrambled at the last minute to find something to fill the gaps and found "My Friend's House" at a nearby church thanks to neighbor. Initially, it seemed like a good fit but the truth was it was they had a spot open a week before classes start. We had lost our coveted spot at Benshaws so we had to make do. When Annie started singing "Jesus is neato, neato, neato/ He puts cheese on my burrito, burrito, burrito!" I knew it was time to start looking for a more secular friend elsewhere. So we broke up- on Annie's suggestion actually- when we secured a spot in the school's excellent (and more affordable) program. That should keep those pesky chapel questions at bay for the time being or at least until she can read. I welcome the discussion, I'm just not paying for her conversion.

And still we pay- to the PTA, tuition increases, gift wrap sales, etc. etc.- excluding the birthday/charity bleedings, we are only gaining less than $200 a month from AO entering a public school. 2 more years to go until I can really put those property taxes to work when my Fall baby joins his big sis and we head to Vegas. Until then, I'm trying to scratch, scrimp and save (or so to hell with it and use the credit card-again) for my super fabulous forty year spa birthday in Mexico with 12 freaking treatments spread out over 5 days with 4 nights rocking the "decent-sized boat made to look like a New Orleans paddle" I have been assured by their website: http://www.spa.villabejar.com.mx/eng/actualizacion/frall.htm that "It is a blast". After Chicago last year, we all agreed that sun and spas where in order for this round.

So bright things are on the horizon and those butterflies are still fluttering everywhere I go in San Antonio, which is often these days. Deadline has done got me again but it's a sad, sad time to be selling advertising- maybe after the election I can hit my goal? Dispatching from the scratchy sheets at the Quality Inn in Hell-freakin'-otes (where I have trade=free) I'm ready to be back in the ever lovin' arms of Austin but SA has really been getting under my skin with her many charms and drool inducing real-estate market. Like we could ever get a loan or have anyone buy our house. At least we can always have a mobile home to call our very own which we will be returning to this weekend to celebrate Oliver's birthday. Celebrations the following weekend- this trip is strictly for chilling after we pay our respects to the Texpatriate and Co. on Friday.

And then next Wednesday this mellow little fellow will be turning four!

Oliver wants to get him (another) a drum set. I want quiet but now that I have it, I actually miss the noise- just a little.

"No one like me"

2008-09-29T15:51:00.002-06:00

The Many Moods of the Malcontette Kindergartener

2008-08-25T17:25:00.013-06:00

I spent this Summer trying to recreate this photo. That's me Fall of 1972 headed to pre-school with my School Bus Lunch Box which was iconic enough that my amazing sister found a replica for Annie on her 5th birthday and not 2 weeks after she had given birth to my new niece Merritt.

By the eve before the first day I had gathered what I could to complete the look. The dress and red keds were a find from the Patch. I tied it all together last night when I read "Oh my baby, little one" and snuck 4 heart shaped photos in the heart pocket and then eventually a very secret space in her backpack. The morning of the big day, I tried to get her to pose but her nerves got the best of her.

By 2:45pm she was a bit shell shocked- surprisingly closed lip about the day she had. As the evening progressed, she volunteered more as it was processed. It was a good day, all in all, although she didn't like learning about all the rules and found it slow and boring. Hopefully today will be more to her liking.

As you can see, this little apple didn't fall far from my tree.

Until her moods improve, all modeling will be on hold.

My baby is a big girl now

2008-08-25T09:09:00.006-06:00

sigh.

sniff.

sigh.

A Delta Funeral

2008-08-22T09:35:00.019-06:00

The eagle landed just over the Texas/Louisiana border on HWY 79 near Panola. A half-mile ahead of this spectacular casino/cafe/truckstop was a drug checkpoint warning sign which made for some mom-and-dad chuckles as we did the potty tour. By the time we left, 8 unmarked cars, an ambulance and some cuffs across the road indicated the sign worked--they snag the folks turning around. Try explaining all that to pre-schoolers.

By the 8th hour on the road things were getting tense. We wasted about an hour searching for a non-existent Luby's in West Monroe LA to no avail. Barnhill's was recommended at the Walgreens (another potty stop) and we crossed the Ouachita to more familiar turf, aka regular Monroe LA, home of some of the Barham clan.

Still lost, we decided to drive thru for some directions and a little inspiration at a turqoise oasis off the interstate...

Annie's expression (despite the exposure) really captured the mood

Daddy O. drove the whole dang 1000 plus miles while I tuned out on the Ipod.

Anderson was generally cheerful until he decided to amp up the sass and attitude. He even ordered Daddy to "CHILL OUT!" Not cool. Funny, but ... um... OK, yeah, funny. Cool, sure. Whatever. After 8 hours in a booster seat, almost anything goes.

I was torn between the Dirty Mother or Smurf Piss but settled on a Medium styrofoamed frozen margarita for $5 to settle my jangled nerves. At the window we asked for directions to the Mohawk Seafood Tavern (est. 1952). Turns out our "bartender's" cousin was the GM and gave us his cred in case there was a wait.

The Mohawk, where gentile Monroe meets to eat, since 1952. Imagine wood panelling with a coat of grease, men's room outside, black gentlemen waiters in white tuxes. No windows. A few deer and pheasant haphazardly mounted to the wall. A dusty old fishing net sagging in the corner where the roof and wall meet. Neon. Awesome. There wasn't a wait for a table but a bit for the food. But well worth it for the atmosphere and seafood- even with the multiple visits to the parking lot to climb over the mountain of bleached oyster shells while waiting for our share of the delicious fruit de mer.

Next stop, Lake Village Arkansas. Yes, we made the whole 500-plus miles in one day with two kids under 6 and two long stops--one for lunch and one for dinner. (Lunch was at Johnny Reb's Dixie Restaurant in Hearne, Texas. BIG props for the 'nanner pudddin.)

Lake Village is beautiful, and best of all, right across the mighty Mississipp' from Greenville, home of Doe's Eat Place. In Greenville's prodigious crack alley, Doe's is a throwback and a celebrity, kind of a Kreuz's before it moved from the downtown location. Delta tamales and monster T-Bones. I don't think they even offer anything else except for fries and taters. Also yummy shrimp. Of course.

To Doe's (est. 1941) we go the evening after the funeral to feed our grief. Think the original Hoffbrau with the kitchen planted in the center of the restaurant with ram shackle additions radiating from each direction.

If that ketchup bottle would fall it would roll to end to end.

By the way, Doe's was honored by the James Beard Foundation in 2007 for all my foodies.

See the grin? I'm grabbing the last bottle from the sack. FYI it's BYOB. Note a common decorating theme? Only the finest restaurants have greasy wall panelling. That's cousin Laurie with me.

At the end the evening, we found a giggle of well dressed co-eds and their handsome Beaus--all in pressed khaki and white, khaki blazers and dark ties--waiting for a table on our way out.

October 9,1907-August 15, 2008

2008-08-15T08:11:00.006-06:00

Mutter died in her sleep this morning.

From the obituary:

Mrs. Ford was born Oct. 9, 1907, in Boston, Ga. After marrying in 1928, she lived with her husband, the late Lester Lee Ford, all over the United States and the Middle East, settling in Iran for about 15 years, until returning home to Greenville, Miss., in 1970. A world traveler, Mrs. Ford was among the first Americans to visit communist Russia and China as a tourist. She never stopped traveling until a last trip to Italy when she was 96.

Can we fix it?

2008-08-13T17:17:00.009-06:00

YES WE CAN!

I never made the connection between Anderson's beloved Bob the Builder and Obama until this past weekend.

We've been busy fixing all the things we had been fixin' to do for the past few months. And a few surprises. My fat commission check this month has been liposuctioned by a parade of repair men.

Last Thursday came the free energy audit from Strand Brothers, performed in fact by an actual Strand, bearing a curious resemblance to our old pal, John Ratliff. Anyway, this one, the shy Brother, "doesn't do" their dubious Mom-and-the-boys ad shtick. (Surprise, surprise, turns out that one of "Mama's Boys" is not even related!) Poor Shy Strand even opts out of the family portrait! Nonetheless, he's still pretty close to a celebrity in our book. Especially after his assessment indicated that our AC hasn't been behaving very frugally. We gave his siblings/surrogates/mom another call and set up a service call.

Mr. Strand didn't send any blood brothers out for the technical stuff. I blew in from errands Friday to find different DNA AC Dude and the Virgen Car Hood in the carport (see above). Again, my instincts were right and Daddy O. had purchased our yard art as a gift- to me? He met the artist too and got a few lithographs thrown in on the deal. Oliver tried to soften the shock by adding "it was decor at the Spin after-party like in '03!". Woo fucking hoo. We're still debating where it will live; I hope we are in agreement that it will remain out of sight in the backyard. (Behind the shed?)

Strand's results: A lone shot of freon ($200) will hopefully keep us cool for another few months. Now its on to saving ($1000) for next year's coil replacement.

On a homemaker's roll, I called ABC Pest Control and scheduled a consultation at 8:30-10:30 on Saturday AM. After almost 4 years I figured it was time to tend to the creepy crawlies- I just didn't have much foresight in the appointment timing.

Because on Friday 8/08/08 we all witnessed the joyous union of Amy and Ken- and, as expected, it was a grand celebration absolutely in sync with the bride-and-groom's personalities--all the more poignant given the battles they have faced in the last year. Always and forever, as we say around here.

Good to know that the balcony has been rebuilt since our last visit.

Amy's Godson didn't care for sweating through the ceremony but perked up after a swim, french fries and a bit of pogo-ing to Two Hoots (AP's on the left):

The lovely bride cutting a rug with Dante to the delight of the little dancing girls.

Still stinging (pretty hard) from the celebrations the night before, at 8:30am the doorbell rang heralding the arrival of Pest Guy, a dead ringer for Ralph Fiennes. Even more disorienting was that the dude was remarkably sharp when it came to pest control--we were entranced, despite (or perhaps thanks to) our stupor, with tales of bed bugs and farming- and mite-ranching ants. So charmed were we that we gleefully signed on for a full year (another $500 annually). That guy totally earned his commission- maybe I should lure him into the exciting world of selling tourism advertising.

And today we replaced the disposal ($175). Our old plumber retired so I called upon the Bouldin List Serve for suggestions. Straight outta South Austin we got a grizzled old hippie reeking of patchouli and dressing the part with a wornout tied-dyed T.

To off set this spending, we had the good fortune of selling Pearlie the van within 16 hours of posting on CL. She now has a good home in Bulverde with a retired military couple- Annie asked if she could visit. It's been a good run of 40,000 plus miles but it was time for the Mama to ride in a bit more style courtesy of Mama's momma's pimpin '91 Lexus. Is 17 years enough time to be considered a classic? Once the IRS is tended to, her hail damage is the first priority, otherwise Ms. Toliver is perfect.

Two more things: Daddy-O's Dad (Grandpa) spent the night with us, having had outpatient dermatology surgery yesterday. He's fixed up and cheerfully out of the house tonight after a nice visit. And, the lice are back--they didn't quite get fixed the last time. Did I mention Daddy-O's stomach bug? Yep, it caught up with him. But we're all past it and he's on the mend after three days of pain.

And finally, the biggest fix of all: I'm back on the Chatix Choo Choo and chugging (and puffing) towards my quit date of August 25. To new beginnings an the like- please wish me luck (again).

Look what the husband (?) dragged in

2008-08-08T12:54:00.005-06:00

Holy Mother of God!

This is what I found in our carport just now with absolutely no explanation.

It's cool I guess- more than a little menancing with that bomb- but definetly at odds with our 1958 Ranchette- at least in the front yard.

What the hell...?

Welcome to my hell

2008-08-07T16:11:00.002-06:00

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse.

We've been dealing with this stomach virus for 13 days straight.

So I finally get my children healthy enough to go back to school and I head to my doctor to see about a low-grade fever that I can't seem to shake.

The PA chalks it up to the lingering wake of this virus and then I get the dreaded call from Hook 'em Young.

Fully expecting more gastro-intestinal distress, I'm floored to learn that my children's sweet, clean, golden locks are crawling with lice.

And guess what- I got 'em too!

One can only assume that Daddy O. has got the itch as well, although he has yet to be afflicted by the stomach bug.

So we're quarantined yet again- will I ever work again?

It's a sad, sad day

2008-08-06T12:53:00.005-06:00

Luby's has discontinued Kids Eat Free nights.

Curse you Brothers Pappas! First the high chairs, then the "waiters"- now this!?!

Analyze this

2008-08-05T17:11:00.004-06:00

Annie O. got bit by the stomach bug on Sunday and puked on me not 20 minutes after I returned from the Bachelorette weekend. We're going on a week and a half of sick at the Maison de Malcontent. At least she amused me today when she commented that our "new" car, Ms Toliver, smelled like "dead sunflowers". The complicated drawing above shows our boy's artistic leanings...

Fun and Sun with the Slores

2008-08-04T10:39:00.007-06:00

Come this Friday 08/08/08, Amy Sue Rogers (pictured below with her God Son) will be hitched to Ken Knight at the Elks Lodge. Fried catfish, swimming and dancing to 2 Hoots and a Holler to follow with 300 (and growing) of their friends, families and more than a few exes in the mix. Inevitable in Austin if you wait till 43 years old to take your first walk down the aisle. Accordingly, the bachlorette party had to be epic so we all pitched in and rented a party pad in Lakeway for the weekend.

If my 24 hour escape was any indication, this will be one hell of a wedding.

"Why not check it out and lock it in?"

2008-07-29T14:28:00.012-06:00

Pearlie the Sienna is in the process of being replaced by Ms. Pearlee May Toliver, the '91 Lexus my Mother lovingly cared for the past 110,000 miles. If the love continues, she may go as far as 380,000 or more. With a Suburban in the mix by necessity, the utility of having a minivan was moot since Daddy O. squires the Malcontettes to and from Hook 'em Young. Despite her years, she's still very luxe which I will no doubt enjoy on my many commutes to SA. If you are unfamiliar with her namesake, may I direct you to the NY Times obituary for Monroe's "Jewel of the Dial". She passed sadly a few years back from her "high blood" but her spirited style lives on if only I could find a cassette deck to play it on.

We all had a grand time tumbling at Geej's birthday. Annie was so excited about wearing this hand-me-down leotard that she wanted to wear it to sleep the night before so we "wouldn't forget". Come cake time, Karla May captured another classic of Anderson's full body approach to eating.

See that baby gate- that's the door to my "office". Not at all effective when tending to sick children home for school. Poor Anderson awoke us all on Sunday morning with his first "funny burp" since infancy. I myself was a little green from the ample sparkling rose the night before. I'm so happy I got to get my girl time on and whoop it up before reporting to duty.

No rest for the wicked, laundry and carpets demanded my immediate attention. Thinking the worst of it had passed, we feasted at the new El Chile which was delicious and a welcome addition to the neighborhood. While I escorted Annie O. to a going away party at Brushy Creek Lake Park (which one is it?), Oliver got to deal with Anderson's output. The gathering was swell but sad- Gillian has been her bestest friend since the beginning of school.

The kids had a fabulous time with the fountains and I enjoyed chatting up the well-preserved, single mother of 7 freaking children ranging in age from 4-21. Can you imagine?

On Monday I stayed home (where else could I go?) with my little, sick lamb who was an absolute angel, albeit a puny/pukey one. He was sweet and grateful for any attention which I rarely gets when his bossy pants sister is around.

By the time he kept his Bratty meals down, he perked up enough to want to play Rock Band. Anderson loves to bang along on the drum set and still has a marked affection for the Ramone's. It tickles me every time when he sings "Hey! Ho! Let's Go!" which he first interpreted as "Hey! No! Let Go!" He also does a mean pogo to Rockaway Beach.

Rock Band is quality family time, right? Can I chalk this obsession up as a enhancing educational experience? It sure as hell beats Mr. Craig and his corporate music classes that we are finally paying for after much resistance- a tender topic I'll tear into another time.

So Daddy O and his play axe chopped his way through the tour and unlocked all the songs without resorting to the cheat code. I'm thrilled to finally have "Tom Sawyer" and "More than a Feeling" to play with. Rock on!

She smiles!

2008-07-25T17:24:00.004-06:00

and then in an instant:I'm starting to see her Daddy in lovely Merritt.

Uh oh- ovaries are getting itchy.

Wonders of the internet

2008-07-25T11:54:00.002-06:00

and what a lovely web it can be.

I liken the surge (and inevitable ebb) of social networking sites to hurricanes.

In my lifetime, I've been in drenching distance from Camille, Alicia, Danny and most recently Dolly.

So to with Friendster, Classmates.com, Alumni Archive, Plaxo, Linkedin and more forces of networking surely to come.

I've been told I'm a "connector" which I suppose is true but over the years I've become wary of jumping off the cliff with the others.

When Friendster barrelled through I was approaching my 10th month of pregnancy and announcing the status of my mucous plug just didn't seem appealing.

And then the dreaded 20th Reunion clogged my junk email bins with enticements. Classmates.com is the most annoying, but I do know a special someone who found her future husband by coughing up for a Gold membership.

Plaxo annoys the hell out of me- the name alone makes me think of a mouthwash.

Linkedin is fine and dandy for professional posing but I can't see much use beyond that.

I'm still MIA from the Myspace phenomena. Despite my best efforts, I come away with the unsettling aura of a migraine about to blow.

Obviously I'm down with the blog thing but I do this truly for expression over connection. I've had the good fortune of meeting some but that's not the impetus.

Besides, I'm the sort to take my technology in with small, dainty bites. It takes a while and I find that I'm usually about a year or more behind the curve.

In the past month I swatted away the buzz of Facebook with a snort and a "crazy kids these days" dismissal. The dowager Malcontent couldn't cut it on Myspace- why would this be any different?

But then the Old Man joined in and was amazed at how many crawled up from his connections. I couldn't let him have all the fun, or rather have more friends than me.

So I tentatively dipped my pinkie toe in the pool to test the water. And you know what, within 24 hours I got a deluge of well wishes and I was instantly up to speed on what once before distant memory. All the merrier when I found a few long, lost friends who had been in thoughts of late. Indeed, it can be a magical and wondrous tool.

If you are inclined, you can find me here:

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1388576537

until this particular storm passes.

Won't you be my friend?

"A retreat from hectic, demanding urban lifestyles"

2008-07-22T15:03:00.012-06:00

Let's pray that Dolly dodges St. Charles Bay Hunting Club, est. 1923.

Thanks to my father, we enjoyed the absolute best family vacation the Texas Gulf Coast can offer.

When we arrived, Daddy O. exclaimed "Now this is old school!" to which Annie asked, "It's an old school?!?"

It took her a moment to adjust to the decor- a far cry from years past...

but perfect in every way- especially with that window unit cranked on high.

But the best part was the amazing food served up family style.

Breakfast was well worth the 5:30am wake up knock on the window.

After an extremely high-flow shower, Anderson and I headed back to my bed to sleep till 10am while the rest went fishing with great success. Mimi has promised to fry up the 17 trout- 4 of which were caught by Annie.

Enchiladas y mas for lunch followed by futile attempts at napping.

Hard to do when there were kites to be flown, baby pools to be inflated and a new friends to run with. I never expected the Club to be so kid friendly but this weekend we lucked into a brood of about 10 kids ranging in age between 6 months and 13. Within minutes of our arrival, A.O. had introduced herself to all the families and leapt right in with the socializing.

By sundown, the "cocktail hour" begins in which the families amiably go from porch to porch until the dinner bell at 7pm.

According to tradition, Saturday is for shrimp- fried and boiled. Oh my, it was good- so good that my Mii fussed at me today for fattening myself up over the long weekend.

While the enormous melon-hued moon rose over the Bay, the kids went wild on an inflatable water slide behind the cabins.

Papa then held court with his telescope trained on Jupiter and Saturn. Anderson sacked in early as Annie, pajama-clad, ran herself ragged across the lawn playing freeze tag with a flashlight with her new friends.

We soaked it all on the breezy front porch with the I-pod shuffling away our greatest hits.

Sunday was time to get our beach on and Rockport Beach was surprisingly accommodating despite its bayfront geography. We staked a place mid-morning in the shadow of a seemingly occupied public palapa. As the sun rose, we inched our self under its shadow and eventually borrowed the abandoned beach chairs for a picnic lunch of Popeye's.

The remains of lunch made great fodder for the sea gulls as we checked another memory of the list.

(see above)

Hermit crabs were raced, jelly fish were avoided, castles were constructed, public restrooms were explored, play-scapes were climbed, tender young skin was burned by poorly applied sunscreen and the beloved new Parrot kite escaped with great excitement. But she kept flying--what struck me as magical sent Annie in a flurry of late afternoon tears. Daddy O. came valiantly to the rescue by retrieving it! He spotted that the string had caught in some weeds across the lake, alongside the highway. 10 minutes later he was back, paper parrot in hand.

Lumpy Lindsay, relaxed at last:

(see above)

And the Big O. fresh from his appointment at the "Ogre Shop":

(see above- blast you blogger.)

After 7 sandy hours, we headed back to the cuddly chill of the cabin. The little pink children dozed soundly as we nodded off in the deck chairs on the front porch. Oliver roused himself to provide for his family- the kitchen closes after Sunday lunch- and returned with a Tex Mex feast of fajitas (curiously with sausage) and quesadillas.

With the club entirely to ourselves (our neighbors had all departed), we feasted under a bare lamp on the porch. The room's crude desk, dragged outside, served as a table; we sat on the low deck chairs.

Afterwards, we easily fell under the spell of the "DVDVD player" (Anderson's coinage) and bedtime while the window unit lulled us to sleep.

Amazingly, the kids awoke around 8am. Mom and Dad grabbed another hour of shut eye; kudos to Bob the Builder, Barney, Fifi Forget me Not, Thomas the Tank Engine, Et al., for their electronic nannying.

Oliver made another run to the Rockport bakery and nabbed one of their famous and extraordinary Apple friiters, a few "piggies" and some breakfast tacos.

Again the leftovers made for another activity on the pier as the catfish, jellyfish, sea gulls and a lone sting ray jostled for our offerings.

We reluctantly packed it all up and got on the road around 2pm with a stop at the Big Tree- a purportedly thousand-year-old Live Oak which graces the shores nearby. Oliver and I sniffed through the posted poem and gave Annie a couple of dollars to place in the donations box nearby. The road home was uneventful but blissful.

Between Mommy and Daddy's fond memories of beach trips of the past (mixed with Grandpa's tales of Rockport in the '30's and Papa's childhood summers in Panama Beach), we may have found our children's blissful future storybook beach spot. Beats the heck out of condos, video games, loud music and nameless strangers if you ask me.

Summer so far

2008-07-08T15:28:00.021-06:00

some highlights from the past month and proof that I haven't wasted all my time with the Wii.

Introducing my new niece, Merritt Avery Nalle!

The Magic Time Machine trumped our visit to Fiesta Texas.

It was Father's Day. It was very, very hot. It was actually a good time except when we waited for an hour to get on the dinky cars having mechanical issues.

I was not amused. But we all perked up after being drenched at the Power Surge and took a spin on the Ferris Wheel.

And then the lovely Anne Olivia turned 5.

While Mimi worked her magic with the cupcakes/caterpillar cake, I called Popeye's for food and found the ultimate babysitter from Austin Moonwalks. Good thing it was my water day - the Tropical Water slide made a big splash. It was a grand gathering and the potluck approach worked like a charm.

The Birthday Girl recovering underneath her new Fairy Princess Canopy. A find at the Patch for only $36.

Revived, the Five year old is sporting a shirt from my youth. Nice collar, eh? What you can't see is that "Groovy", "Love" and Peace symbols are inter-twined in the acidy pattern. Here's to the Summer of Love.

We waved the flag, marched in the neighborhood parade, celebrated with our nearest and dearest

to be crowned with a fleeting rainbow at Casa Avacado.

I can't complain- which may explain my absence.

How do I love Wii

2008-07-07T13:19:00.003-06:00

I step slowly off the balance board, un-sling the guitar, unclench the steering wheel, surrender the numchuk, unsheathe the remote and reluctantly move my newly found muscles (I have glutes and abs- who knew?!?) towards the keyboard. And then the Siren's song calls me back again and I surrender to another round perfecting Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead or Alive. What a marvelous way to suck away the summer in the relative comfort of my home.

Kuddos to the Daddy O. for being the first in line at 7:30am. We had been tipped by a Target associate that it was to be advertised on Sunday and he made sure that we had a shot to the 100 that each store are allotted. While in line, he got the low-down and decided to get what he could to avoid another trip. And so he did- enough to cover all our birthdays and major holidays combined- but can you really put a price on hours of family entertainment? Well, at the very least, my happiness and overall fitness? The kids are still on the sidelines cheering us on and Anderson predictably loves hammering on the drum set, the TV, the sofa, his sister...

I'm committed/addicted to Fit even if the little bubble baby sounds mildly disappointed each time I step on. I've never been one for exercising communally- well, all exercise in general. A vigorous walk around the neighborhood to scope out the neighbor's gardens has been the extent of my exertion. Gardening counts, right? I once was lured to a yoga studio but spent more time containing inappropriate giggles than finding my center. I liked the tea, however, but not enough to return- much less pay for the experience.

What I do have going is abundant energy (fueled by caffeine) and a flexible working arrangement. So every morning I've been stepping up to the plate in the privacy of my own home. Well, almost- I alarmed a spying neighbor while I was deep in the Hula Hoop Challenge. Besides, where else can I take swigs of coffee in between yoga poses and take a break with a smoke after aerobics and before strength training? Not surprisingly, I suck at the balance games but I'm working on that- I'm not and will never be full of grace. As my many bruises will attest, I'm hopelessly clumsy.

So I'm alive, well, possibly fit and certainly enjoying myself.

Anyone care to join my band?

On the horizon

2008-06-03T15:06:00.002-06:00

Last year was a trip. Anyone care to join us?

Moving right along

2008-06-02T16:21:00.002-06:00

My nutty husband of now 9 years woke me up the other morning singing that song. I love me my Muppets but not until I get at least a shot of caffeine in my system.

Recovery be damned, we enjoyed a lovely anniversary date at Chez Nous on Friday, after a hoppy aperitif or two at the Jackalope. For one night, I put away my ATF badge and enjoyed the pate and a bottle of excellent rose. Three gentile courses followed. Mon marie ended with a lovely cheese plate. All told, it was remarkably affordable, at only $130 with tip, a historically cheap date night. Our new found moderation may have had a hand in that.

Saturday was good too- yard therapy in the morning, a "breakfast lunch" of ranch eggs, then haircuts at Birds, ice cream (and a glace for Daddy) at Amy's, swimming at Mimi and Papa's, easy dinner, and bedtimes.

Sunday was the folding of the laundry to the "Best Week Ever", an unexpected visit from Karla May and the Geej bearing a delicious pasta salad, and a big closet tidy up by Oliver, garnished with a matinee of Sex & the City with the girls. I returned to a house all to my own. Oliver and the Malcontettes had gone to the grandparents for swim time turned dinner time which gave me a blissful few hours to water the garden and tend to my trash TV.

While at the grandparents, Annie O. has fallen under the spell of Wii, which has given me the perfect justification in buying her (really, um, our) birthday present. All I want is Rock Band, which I gather will be released for Wii this month, so I'm using my child's 5th birthday as the grand excuse. Come on, as hot as it has been, I need a few tricks in my indoor bag to keep these savages under control. Deb has already cautioned me to lay the ground rules from the beginning- you can only play standing up. We need this right?

As my mentor of all things maternal, I also ran my grand birthday party scheme past Oracle Deb. Here's my thinking- parties should be fun for kids, certainly, but they should also be fun for us. For the kids, I've committed to making the cushioned leap into the bouncy house- actually a tropical water slide. For the adults, I'm scheduling it on the unhappiest hours on Sunday.

So here's my scheme: in lieu of presents, I would much rather folks bring a contribution to the cooler or table that would benefit the fiesta as a whole. There's a particular rung in Hell waiting for folks with bad Thank you note skills (read: Me). I would also rather bypass that burning guilt this go around. Am I totally insane to turn my precious daughter's birthday into a potluck? I'm planning to have a spread regardless, I was just trying to find a clever way to sidestep the thorny gift issue. I don't want 'em but, say, a plate of devilled eggs or a nice bottle of wine would really come in handy.

And the best for last, I will imminently be an Aunt as my sister is being sent to be sectioned at 8pm in Atlanta. 15 hours of labor and her narrow hips are the likey cause. Leave it her to defy the odds and actually deliver on her due date. Interestingly, we shared the same due date, although Annie waited a full 2 weeks to be yanked from her cozy, gooey nest. I'm looking to meeting my new niece (name to be revealed tonight) very soon!

The pinkies connect us all

2008-05-30T15:55:00.004-06:00

I know Scott McClellan is all over the news, i just wish there was a better shot of him. Oh wait, here he is up in the top right corner , half squatting in front of Will and Ian Moore at the SFA game.
OK, Scott, you can now drink beer with us again...

Loyal forever,
Chris

Chris himself has been newsworthy having created and constructed the giant cactus pollen sculpture at Mueller. Check it out: http://www.news8austin.com/content/top_stories/default.asp?ArID=209952

The wars we wage

2008-05-30T08:34:00.004-06:00

Little Miss Independent is doing her damnedest to send both her parents into cardiac arrest. The horn locking of late usually involves my daughter dressing herself, or not as the case may be.

While I was away on bidness in Beaumont, Oliver had such a struggle that he strapped her in her booster seat in her panties and headed to Hook 'em Young. Following 4.5 miles of wailing, she was eventually convinced/coerced to get dressed in the parking lot.

Personally I find her self-picked ensembles charming, I just don't appreciate the accompanying attitude. For instance, I happily sent her off to school in this outfit of her creation and was amused enough by the daring color clash to make note with the camera.

Yesterday morning we had another battle of wills over her choice of a long sleeved dress she's unusually fond of. I spent about 20 minutes on the kitchen floor trying to reason with her about the season but she wasn't having any of it. I surrendered and sent off her to surely suffer heat stroke on the playground that afternoon. That'll learn her, assuming there was a change of clothes in her cubby. Come closing time at the CDC, we found Annie O. sporting some clothes a concerned parent had donated to her cause. The cubby was bare and her bare feet were blistered from the "new" sandals I picked up at the Patch (along with some darling sleeveless sundresses she flatly refused to wear). Her teacher helped out with a very stern warning that she mustn't wear long sleeves in the summertime and the dressing went swimmingly this morning. Speaking of, Annie "congratulated" from her swimming class last night and is just a few strokes away from floating solo.

How cool is this?

2008-05-29T15:35:00.002-06:00

I grew that big, bad boy cucumber and it was delicious!

home comforts

2008-05-27T12:14:00.004-06:00

Thank you all for your kind thoughts and well wishes.

We got Daddy O. back on Sunday night and he's spent since then on his back recovering from the angiogram. Let's just say that our anniversary plans for this Friday at La Reve and the Fairmount have been put on hold for the time being. We may yet sneak out on to celebrate our 9th at Chez Nous instead. Casa de Luz Bowels just doesn't strike me as babysitting worthy.

In a flash of foresight, I purchased "Diabetic Living Slow Cooker Meals" a few weeks ago. I shudder that it's come to this but I'm willing to give the Provencal vegetable stew and Spanish ckicken stew a whirl. ("Stews" seem to be popular with the geriatric set--go figure). Truth be told, my latest check up indicated that my triglycerides are high too so it's all for the best.

Call it denial, but I still feel entirely too young and vital to be discussing stints with a cardiologist, however cute he may be (and he was). As a dear friend commented, I still feel on the accidental overdose side of the spectrum, rather than in parts-wearing-out territory. What a drag it is getting old. At least we lived hard.

The fridge was purged of the most obvious culprits. I brought the galette and a dozen devilled eggs to a cookout last night- leaving a bowl full of boiled egg whites and the lemon chicken (warning him not to eat the skin) for Oliver's dinner. So far he's been on track having lost a few pounds already while in the hospital. He slipped up at Walgreen's when he dropped a Cookies 'n' Cream Milkshake-in-a-bottle into our cart. I would have slapped him if the kids hadn't been riding along. In his defense, he hadn't eaten anything all day. Bad habits are hard to break- baby steps before the strides. Speaking of, I'm thinking about getting back on the Chantix choo-choo in a show of heart healthy solidarity. Then again, Mama still needs to sneak her "moments" more now than ever.

Serious as a heart attack

2008-05-25T09:11:00.002-06:00

Thankfully not that serious but enough to necessitate a 2 night stay at St. David's.

Daddy O. kicked off our Memorial Day Weekend by driving himself to the ER on Friday morning against the very specific orders from our GP to call an ambulance. Unbeknownst to me, my husband had been experiencing chest pains since Wednesday which had become progressively worse. He chalked this all up to a new leash and walking technique with Ginger. Once the pain radiated down his left arm and numbed his fingers, he made the call.

I had just bopped back from an overnight in San Antonio with a pit stop at the grocery for goodies for dinner guests that evening. My afternoon was clear outside of a much needed cut and color. I got the call at 12:30 and was tipped off by the St. David's caller ID. I grabbed the laptop and the bouquet of sunflowers that my darling had bought for me and bolted to the ER.

The initial tests confirmed that he hadn't had a heart attack but it's apparent that Oliver has multiple risk factors going against him. They decided to wisely keep him overnight for more tests and observation.

Yesterday we got the Come to Jesus about cleaning up our heart clogging ways but it seemed as if the problem wasn't related to his ticker. All good until the cardiologist found an inconclusive area in the scan and wanted to meet with him this (Sunday?) morning.

Just to be safe, they wheeled him off to catheterize (?) his heart and make sure there wasn't any blockage.

And the Cardiologist just visited and everything is fine beyond a little build up of cholesterol!

He's gorked and will need a few hours to recover but it looks like Daddy O. will be coming home tonight!

And so we begin our journey in heart healthy living. I think tonight I'll prepare our last supper I had intended for Friday- lemon chicken with croutons, potato leek galette, brussel sprouts, rhubarb and strawberry sundaes. After tonight it looks like rabbit food for us.

Land of Legend and Lure

2008-05-19T11:17:00.011-06:00

What fresh hell is this?

2008-05-15T13:53:00.012-06:00

My Mother's masterful garden went from this:

to this when all hail/hell broke loose last night:

That's holes in the siding folks and my Mama smiling despite the catastrophic damage. Practically every window on the West side was blown in sending glass up to 20 feet away. Even her 17 year old Lexus, Mrs Toliver, got pocked in the carport. Less than 2 miles away, nary a blossom was bruised by the little hail we received.

Annie-isms in the AM

2008-05-14T09:00:00.002-06:00

A.O. also informed me that God sends the bad people to Louisiana and asked what direction that was. Nevermind that a quarter of her extended family resides there.

Note to self: DVR only Noggin

2008-05-14T08:48:00.003-06:00

With great earnestness, Annie implored me to get rid of the "allergies" lurking in our toilet with some amazing product she saw on TV that presumably kills those pesky allergies and bacteria breeding in my comode.

Now I can't get Carol Channing and this wise little dity out of my head.

You know, there are times when we happen to be
Just sitting there, quietly watching TV,
When the program we're watching will stop for a while
And suddenly someone appears with a smile,
And starts to show us how terribly urgent
It is to buy some brand of detergent,
Or soap or cleanser or cleaner or powder or paste or wax or bleach,
To help with the housework.
Now, most of the time it's a lady we see,
Who's doing the housework on TV.
She's cheerfully scouring a skillet or two,
Or she's polishing pots till they gleam like new,
Or she's scrubbing the tub or she's mopping the floors,
Or she's wiping the stains from the walls and the doors,
Or she's washing the windows, the dishes, the clothes,
Or waxing the furniture till it just glows,
Or cleaning the fridge or the stove or the sink,
With a light-hearted smile, and a friendly wink,
And she's doing her best to make us think
The her soap, or detergent or cleanser or cleaner or powder or paste or wax or bleach,
Is the best kind of soap, or detergent or cleanser or cleaner or powder or paste or wax or bleach,
That there is in the whole wide world.
And, maybe it is, and maybe it isn't,
And maybe it does what they say it will do,
But I'll tell you one thing I know is true.
The lady we see when we're watching TV,
The lady who smiles as she scours or scrubs or rubs or washes or wipes or mops or dusts or cleans,
Or whatever she does on our TV screens,
That lady is smiling because she's an actress,
And she's earning money for learning those speeches
That mention those wonderful soaps and detergents and cleansers and cleaners and powders and pastes and waxes and bleaches.
So, the very next time you happen to be
Just sitting there quietly watching TV,
And you see some nice lady who smiles
As she scours or scrubs or rubs or washes or wipes or mops or dusts or cleans,
Remember, nobody smiles doing housework but those ladies you see on TV.
Your mommy hates housework,
Your daddy hates housework,
I hate housework too.
And when you grow up, so will you.
Because even if the soap or cleanser or cleaner or powder or paste or wax or bleach
That you use is the very best one,
Housework is just no fun.
Children, when you have a house of your own,
Make sure, when there's house work to do,
That you don't have to do it alone.
Little boys, little girls, when you're big husbands and wives,
I f you want all the days of your lives
To seem sunny as summer weather,
Make sure, when there's housework to do,
That you do it together!

Anderson is a punk rocker

2008-05-13T11:25:00.002-06:00

as captured at school with the Sippy Cups "I Wanna Be Elated". He's also obssessed of late with "Bad Reputation" on the Shrek soundtrack. No more mohawks until he's 12.

I love my *$%^ son

2008-05-11T21:32:00.010-06:00

He makes a pretty princes, no? And they always love their mama.

I'm so ready for his rehearsal dnners.

I think I'll keep her

2008-05-10T07:56:00.004-06:00

Oh the things that I grow

2008-05-08T07:34:00.009-06:00

The garden is starting to gallop!

Tulle makes for a trellis for the tangerine cross vine and hopefully purple hyacinth.

Our shady grove with the kumquat and fig tree. The morning glories are starting to happen on the fence.

I found the blue tumbled glass for the busted fountain/mosquito farm at Target in the dollar aisle

A victory with the vegetables!

A few holes to fill and a lawn in need of mowing this weekend.

I'm hoping to get some action out of the Mimosa this year. I love that bloom and thick fragrance.

Sigh...My baby girl is about to make the big leap into Kindergarten this Fall. We got rounded up in the Highland Park cafeteria this past week for the paperwork. I think we were more anxious than Annie O. Now that 7:45 start time is going to take some serious adjustment on our part.

I'm clinging to the little bit of baby left in Mr. Blue Eyes. Mama's boy is finally in the same swimming class with his sister. Poor guy burst into tears when the class ended. I'm hoping Tom and Co. will make swimmers out of them yet. I'm ready for some pool time engrossed in a SPF stained book instead of anxiously averting deadly accidents.

Believe it or not, Ripley's style

2008-05-07T09:31:00.023-06:00

Mama loves her trade at the fabulous Fairmount. Visitors love her product too!

Onward to the show. Riptley's Believe it Or Not's largest franchise IN THE WORLD is now in San Antonio. The opening party lived up to all the unbelievable expectations. Directly across from Mission de Valero, aka the Allamo, this merry go round of hooked hipsters got the party started.

I checked in and queued up in the VIP line roped off from the gawking tourists. Little did I know that I had to step on this living welcome mat. In heels. Instinct tells me this "gentleman" was paid to look up my cocktail dress; pity all he got was a peek at my girdle as I gingerly tiptoed across his belly.

Larry likes leopards and my dear friend Bevin of the Buckhorn. I gather Larry and I used to run in the same circles back in the Amy Rogers' Circle Drive days. At the the time he wasn't faux-furry, though I knew he looked familiar.

Well hello big boys!

When I sat down for the staged photo op the moose above me farted. He's not pictured. As if, after that. May I remind you this is a museum? Note the Mrs. Firecracker cocktail dress got another shot with much appreciation.

Behold the icy luge for the cosmo's! Regrettably, the tube shot more mix than vodka, and on my hand rather than in my martini glass. At least it was cold...

Appetizers in the black-lit hall of freaks. Yum! Though the sweet waiter seemed a bit mystified...

The belly I stepped on earlier did double duty by serving as a bulletin board, on which guests were invited to staple the dollars for an unspecified local charity. (Unemployed Geeks Anonymous?)

Look Ma! I'm drinking a diet coke and hanging by my bleeding flesh 50 feet above a hard tile floor with a smile on my face!
And the grand finale with beds of nails, a cinder block and sledge hammer. Now that's entertainment!

At closer inspection, the blood is fake.

And the freak circus heads back home to Austin. That's the Bed-o-nails dude tending to his adorable 1 year old, Felix, who came along for the ride. I met his Mama too. Did our fore-fathers fight in the dreary dawn for such independence and freedom?

Regardless, it was a hell of a party. Simple minds, simple pleasures!

Travels with the Malcontent

2008-05-07T08:41:00.012-06:00

A luncheon with my best clients:

Si beau, no? The view from my room at the Holiday Inn Beaumont:

The start of the museum crawl at the Texas Fire Museum:

Beaumont's swinging visionaries:

And bird poop:

The centerpiece at the Texas Energy Museum:

And finally the Luau and our coordinated outfits and accessories.

I'm in enough to get the memo beforehand:

After much thought and brainstorming ideas for the TTIA Hawaiian Theme Party, here is what a few of us were thinking: Ladies - White Paints/Capri or Linen White Paints. Hot Pink, Lime Green or Bright Orange tops either tank top or short sleeve Flip Flops

Such is the glamorous life of the Texas Tourism Ad Whore. It's hard work, let me tell you.

Next stop- the grand opening of the largest Ripley's Believe it or Not Museum in the World!

Big boys and their toys

2008-04-10T08:20:00.005-06:00

This magical moment was captured by my Uncle Mack on Black Bayou, Louisiana and won him the grand prize in the National Wildlife Refuge Association's contest complete with a brand spankin' new Toyota Highlander Hybrid and a trip to DC! The Highlander will fit nicely with Easy Rider replica motorcycle in his garage. When he's not coaxing out 14 pound babies, breeding orchids, or collecting Ak47s, Uncle Mackie has always had a thing for photography and now it's paying off as he sidelines as a sports photographer in Monroe.

The lure of the big lens has bit my Dad as well. Thank goodness he's still committed to capturing his grandchildren with his camera but he's now moved into the cosmos with a telescope that's about the same size and weight of the Malcontettes combined. As the ultimate accessory, he also got an adorable Bambi airstream trailer to lug his precious cargo (plus wife, 2 Frenchies and hopefully grandchildren) to the dark side.

It's so freakin' cute and clever. He may have finally found the hobby to end all hobbies that he's been searching for all these years. I hope we can go along for the ride!

Meanwhile at the Maison, Oliver is more car obsessed than ever as his closet bulges with model cars to be sold.

Yep- and we've got a storage building in the same sad state.

What can I say? The boy loves his toys, although I wish he could channel the small ones cluttering things up and move that money into the bigger ones. Lorena the Convertible needs a little lovin' and cosmetic work and I'll admit I'm crazy about that car as is the kiddos. Oliver likens the drive to his mechanical Prozac. We all get by however we can.

What a difference a date can make

2008-04-09T07:55:00.005-06:00

Yes, you read that right- we enjoyed a honest to God date last night and it was divine. Given our limited resources, baby sitting worthy events are usually swirling social affairs where we divide and conquer as is our wont. From our reception almost 9 years ago, we naturally split the room and circulate accordingly, providing back up with refills as needed. Our strategy held true on the Laura's sunset birthday cruise (as captured by Karla May)- which was grand. It works for us but the day to day rarely gives us the face time we need. In turn, the most engaged conversations are more often over the phone and by email during work- without interference from the kids. The best we can do is ask each other "How was your day?" never really expecting an answer over the deafening din and demands of the Malcontettes.

Woe is the life of the museum widow while Daddy O. has been clocking 65-75 hour weeks in service to the Beats- blast those buggers. Guess who got stay all 14 hours of the marathon reading of On the Road?

At least he's listened to a book in its entirety. And his Film Series at the Alamo has been a smashing success, so I'll let him get the glory while I get another night of pizza bites and bathtime/bedtime battles.

Ever so often our professional lives collide, as was the case with the Harry Handsome and the Bureau hosting a reception for the hospitality/tourism community, such as it is. The Bureau and my map broke up in the past year which I liken as leaving an abusive boyfriend. In the end, it was all for the best- one door is left ajar and another one opens and in my case it's even better than before. No ill will, or just enough to prompt me to don my new Mrs. Firecracker cocktail dress to stand out in the stacks. It's my turf and I was damn well going to work the networking in my favor with the darling Curator of Public Programming occasionally by my side, or at least fetching drinks. God bless the recently vaulted Director of Marketing who positioned a stand of my maps squarely by the name tags. Get it? On the road with a MAP- all the better with the etchings gracing our cover. And work it I did, as did Oliver, thanks in no small part to the fire engine scream of my ensemble. Dressing for battle, as it were.

Triumphant, we shook our tail feathers to the Peacock for the Cuisine de Cocktail catered by our family's affair/Cissi's Market. With Mimi and daughters + significant others at the helm, things are starting to pop and we've been plumped in the process at family dinners. Dining out, however, has meant trays and heaping platters- not artfully arranged delectables. So for $120 (which included tip) we sipped and supped through a 5 course dinner. All the more impressive since it was staged outside on a grill in the parking lot. Fortuna was up to her old school tricks- the owner knew me way back 18 years ago as I was raging through my last years of college and we enjoyed catching up and tracing the circles that have connected us over the years affirming yet again how truly small Austin is at its heart.

And, oh my, the menu:

Amuse Bouche
Crab HollandaiseWith fresh Asparagus and topped with Smoked Caviar
Herb-Infused Champagne Cocktail.
...........
Premier
Organic Steak TartarBastrop Cattle Company organic, grass-fed Beef with Shallots, Quail Egg, Capers, andCornichons. Served with Gaufrettes, Herb Salad,Tomato Chips, and Crème Fraiche
Rusty NailGlenlivet and Drambuie. AScottish Classic
...........
Deuxième
Braised house-made BaconWith Candied Carrot Puree & an English Pea Salad
Carrot Juice Cocktail
...........
Troisième
Grilled Gulf FishWith Grilled Leeks and an early Peach Slaw with Local Honey Vinaigrette
The Gin RickeyPlymouth Dry Gin with Fresh Lemon and Lime Juicestopped with Bubbly Water and a Lemon Wheel
...........
La fin
Artisanal Chocolate Candy Bar TrioVanilla & Cashew, Whipped Caramel & Marcona Almond, and Orange & Pistachio
A White Chocolate Martini with a Raw CoacoaRim.

And you know what? We talked! We laughed! We relaxed! And we did our best to steer the conversation away from the children/parents/work stress that's been bogging us down. Now we need to start saving for the second Tuesday of next month.

Let's just say that I relate

2008-03-28T07:31:00.001-06:00

Wouldn't it look great against the shed?

These are a few of my favorite things

2008-03-25T07:54:00.009-06:00

Mistress Lindsay, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

2008-03-21T10:13:00.008-06:00

I made this!

Annie has been indulging me by listening to a chapter from the Secret Garden every night.

But wait! There's more...

2008-03-19T15:55:00.007-06:00

Annie O. and Daddy O. in their matching Lone Star Beer caps. Awwwwwwwww.

Saturday was the day to let the Malcontettes get acclimated to the Monster. Nothing says fun-for-kids like an afternoon spent on tented asphalt while Mommy and Daddy sneak sips of free PBR and catch up with the others isolated in the parent hood. The Pine Curtains joined us at Yard Dog for Mike Hall and his extended family which was lovely and low key. We took the back alleys to Mimi's Market which is in the epicenter of South Congress. It's a family affair now- my stepmother, sisters and respective boyfriends are all part of the show- we haven't figured out a way to work the grandchildren into the act yet. We also caught Papa fresh from a row on Lady Bird Lake where he spied a party boat rockin' with attendees all dressed in black- at 11am in the morning.

Mimi's food was delicious, as always, and we escaped with only a few spills at the kids' table. After the lollipops, the children's mood was getting a bit dicey but we decided to bravely press on to the Dog and Duck for the Pop Culture Press party. Nothing like driving in a convertible on a glorious day to boost your optimism and stamina- unfortunately it didn't have the same effect on the kids. It's always been well worth the cost of beer to have a place that feels like home with friends far away from the strange invaders- the lineup always rocks too.

"See Lucy Pearl's Daddy! Look it's Roxy and Owen's Mama!" only went so far with the kids who needed naps and the Big Kid/Daddy who was restraining them. It's a good thing I've never learned to drive a stick shift, so the Big. O left me to have my fun. And it was, once the weight had been lifted. Nothing crazy, just a lot of sippin' and socializin' on a spectacular Spring Day. I hitched a ride North with super-cool Susan by sunset and settled into a quiet night and early bedtimes.

Could it be that after 20 some odd years I've found the perfect balance? Just wait 20 more until this little fella and filly get their showcase. I'll be the one beaming by the makeshift stage with the oxygen tank and wheelchair--badge or no badge.

And then the Monster came and gobbled up my town whole

2008-03-18T19:07:00.003-06:00

but not before spitting out 95 million dollars on my advertisers, thank you very much- see you again next year!

After my adventures in Chicago, I had begrudgingly resigned myself to a graceful bow out for SXSW this year, outside of the Music Awards which was well documented by Karla May. But, oh my, the Judy's reunion just hit the right nerve to want more despite the reprimands of security. For a brief moment, I was 15 again, bopping at the Opry House in all my geeky glory- and then we got our balloon popped not once but three times. I know it was unseemly and possibly unsightly--but for goodness' sake, let the old broads have some fun. Having hit our high, we retired and made it home by the witching hour.

The next morning I was moody and adrift, with that gnawing "what am I missing?" ache, but launched into a spirited nursery crawl with Chandler as an early birthday gift. We hit Barton and Shoal Creek followed by a delicious visit to the buffet at Indian Palace and then a fat nap while the Malcontettes were under the watchful eye of Hook 'em Young Daycare. By sundown when the kids gamboled in, I had all my new green babies tucked in to their newly-sodded beds and enjoyed a relaxed night of grilling and family. I can do this- at least for one night.

By Friday I was getting smug in my predicament but there was no escape. I went to my hipster coffee house far from the maddening crowd to work on taxes only to find an unofficial showcase staged on the patio. Soured, I slammed my over-priced ice tea and was heading home when I got the dreaded call that Annie had a mysterious rash. Conceding defeat, I scooped up her hivey highness and brother for another "fun" Friday in our abnormal world until, lo and behold, I got word that I might have my turn at the ball after all! An unexpected Badge was waiting for me! Within the hour I had transformed from disgruntled, dumpy Mom to majestic Malcontent Mama all a-sparkle. The Reunion outfit from Anthropologie got another spin but it did nothing to help me blend in any better. I had the uniform, but there must be something about me that shouts "I drive a 98 Toyota Minivan with 2 car seats and I'm not cool despite the "I Buy Austin" bumper sticker" since all the the cool kids seemed wary of me. Not that I can blame them, but once upon a time it was a giddy, joyous occasion where you could actually talk to strangers and newcomers and share in this "isn't this fucking great!" excitement. Maybe because I went solo I was just freaking the tourists out, but hey--I sell a tourist publication--I can't help myself.

So I hit it solo. Not that I minded (or lacked) company but if I had one shot it was best to go it alone to get the fill of what I wanted to see on my own terms. After making a plan at my client the Jackalope, I marched over to Copa to catch Cordero and earned myself some mean blisters with my Target sandals. Enjoyed the sparsely attended act beforehand and chatted up some nice parents from Maine who came to see their daughter-in-law in the April Fishes. Cordero was charming but solo, so I hoofed it back down Congress to be front and center on what I hoped to be my "moment" at the Ale House with Liam Finn. Before the set, I yucked it up with a nice Dad 'n' Son duo - Daddy does a world music radio show in Portland while his son is a nice IT guy who lives in Hutto with his wife and 2 kids.

An oddly appropriate segue to Liam, since I have been hopelessly devoted to his Daddy since I bought Time and Tide at the record store next to the arcade in the basement of North Star Mall in 1981. I had high hopes going in after downloading his new album on e-music but hadn't had the time to let the music marinate in my blood, so I really didn't know what to expect. An Iron & Wine-bearded 24-year-old with a lovely auto-harpist wasn't what I'd imagined--but damned if they didn't blow me, and everyone else in the audience, away. I'm at a loss for words but I definitely had that elusive musical equivalent to an orgasm. Needless to say, the album has been playing non-stop in our household ever since.

Aglow, I decided the Parish would be the safest best afterwards, as did the hundreds of like-minded lost souls in line in front of me. Police-tape notwithstanding, I didn't mind soaking in the grand parade down 6th Street while waiting, but I got increasingly annoyed at the young bucks in front of me trying to be cool by ignoring their mom behind them. Gather 'round children, you might learn a thing or three from me. Good thing the Mama of the nice publicist from LA behind me taught him some manners and to mind his elders, which made the line tolerable.

Once inside, the room was to the rafters with geeks not like me wired from their rapid texting. I caught the last few songs of the Shout Out Louds who were good, but I was unimpressed by She and Him- although many a male in the audience were entranced by the Movie Star/Lead Singers' sway. I babbled with the Croslins about daycare and the next reunion and then wisely called it a night before Destroyer. I had my moment; it was time to go home and listen to Liam's album in its entirety on my Ipod on my back porch, and watch the possums scurry in the moonlight. A lovely way to end the evening.

Allow me to introduce you to my girlfriend sisters

2008-03-18T17:18:00.007-06:00

Lovely Laura...

Awesome Ann (who joined us from the Twin Cities and was better acclimated and accessorized for the weather)
the Mama

and the always delightful Deb

After a long day of shopping, eating, sight-seeing and walking, we got our girl drink on (just one- the cocktails ran $12 and up) at the hip hotel bar which raised customer satisfaction to a new level by carding us. After toasting up at Crimson, we slipped into the adjacent high-toned bowling alley and put our names on the list. After a long wait and an improvised dinner of appetizers, we ditched the lanes and discovered the fancy wine bar/market also in the hotel where we stocked up on Sparkling Rose for a few more rounds of Rock Band. Yet again, we closed the Lounge down at midnight. Once we got the boot, we kept up till the wee hours in the swank suite without unwrapping the minibar temptations.

Cursed by routine, we all were unable to sleep past 8:30am. We arose and rallied for brunch at Kitsch-In which sounded cute in the guide book but was in person a tad contrived. Our old friend Casey joined in our recovery. By the time we made it to O'Hare the weather was downright balmy--in the 40s--but I was happy to get home to the sweet caress of the high 70s with a gentle Southeast breeze, once we shed our many layers.

Next year it's La Costa for some serious spa time for Deb and my 40th. How many days/hours/minutes til then?

Now, where was I?

2008-03-17T16:34:00.010-06:00

We've been swimming in shit since the holidays- literally and figuratively. Between Anderson's potty training, my Father-in-Law's battle with Parkinson's, and Ginger Cookie's recent bout with tape worms, I've seen more than my share. So much shit, in fact, that our beloved Neptune washer just bit it to the tune of $370. Then dump in the increasing demands of our careers, cranky cars and children. Instead of the woods, I headed outside in the backyard and hacked a garden that is starting to bud. I'm looking forward to seeing the blooms of my hard work and, with the Spring, restore my tried and true optimism.

Getting a fabulous girls weekend in Chicago followed by little shot of SXSW in my system did me some good too.

To celebrate the soon-to-be 40 glorious years of Laura (as Deb and I approach our 39th), the girlfriend-sisters gathered in Chicago, where we all once stomped giddily and young through the scene in clunky Doc Marten's some 15 years ago. Early March isn't the kindest time in the Midwest but when your sloshing through the slush in cowboy boots it's kind of fun...for a weekend. Cheap air fares and an unbelievable deal at the hotel helped too.

Thanks to the intrepid Deb, we got the suite deal at the Hotel Sax. Sadly, this concierge didn't come with the package:

Not that he would have been interested in our package. But he brought us a cake, wine and a cheese tray accented with tiny bits of jello. The hotel was trying really hard to be cutting edge but never quite made the cut. Upholstering a wing back chair in snake skin might scream rock 'n' roll but it's not comfortable in the least. Likewise, the Mile High Intimacy Kit positioned by the bottle of Patron and Grey Goose bottles was a nice touch but not worth the $25 we got charged after I moved it. Deb got to explain that one off.

As they say, it's all about location. We were nestled underneath the famous Corn Cob high-rises featured in some old album cover--Revolting Cocks?- and next to the House of Blues- a door we never darkened. Thanks to Deb's connections, we had an open invitation to stop in and pick up some bumper stickers from my new boyfriend/soon-to-be-President at his headquarters only 2 blocks away. Instead of a quick breeze through a storefront, we waited for an hour to get security clearance even though the man was down working his magic in Ole San Antone. It was worth the wait, although we came close to switching sides towards the end of the wait. Once inside, however, the excitement and energy was palpable despite being 6:15 on a Friday night. What was once a dull insurance agency was now a whole floor buzzing with kids committed to the cause. The maps and homemade signs made it all the more festive.

Following some restorative Thai food and white wine, the ladies hit the "entertainment lounge" to shake our lumpy, middle-age asses with Rock Band. We are all hopelessly addicted and I'm itching to perfect my screaming rendition of "Perfect Skin" and get my drumming on "Should I Stay" past a 73.

(grrrrrrr. I can't seem to move the pictures where I want them. To be continued, cross my heart, hope to die, dozen needles in my eye...)

Faux Hawk

2008-01-22T08:06:00.000-06:00

Anderson needed a haircut (and a napkin after Ruby Jane's pizza birthday party).

So we made a family outing to Birds last night to get clipped.

Mama was thinking economy, and weakly suggested something short.

Ask and you shall receive. The boy had more hair at birth. I take comfort that his golden locks will grow back, although I'll admit it's kind of cute...

Scenes from the Victorian Photo Booth

2008-01-17T21:41:00.001-06:00

Little Merry

2008-01-04T08:24:00.000-06:00

Despite the doom and gloom, everything was a little brighter this holiday with baby Abigail's visit. She may be a New York City girl but we're hoping she'll have a little cowgirl at heart.

Stuck in the middle

2008-01-03T15:07:00.000-06:00

You know you're approaching the summit when you try to balance the needs and demands of the very young and the very old. For the past 6 days, I've been been doing just that with my petite savages and my elderly father-in-law who is suffering from Parkinson's. They really aren't that different outside of mobility.

But the bebes are back in school and the Old Coot (as he refers to himself) is now in the competent hands of his primary physician and my sainted sister-in-law. All is quiet, at last. I'm exhausted.

I fear we have a difficult year ahead.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

2007-12-31T22:10:00.000-06:00

The Mama will return in 2008.

(Blank) the Cowgirl-dog

2007-12-03T16:20:00.000-06:00

After spending $350 at the vet, $60 at Target and another $300 to get our new girl fixed (next month: we're not that flush); Santa came 23 days early to the Malcontent household. So much for the quiet, low-maintenance goldfish I had planned as pets.

But she's a love and managed to tug on my lone, frayed thread of warmth and compassion towards animals. Unlike some I know, I'm not particularly a pet person and my experiences up until now have ended badly.

During childhood I had a high-strung Schnauzer named Sophie who was shipped off to rural Louisiana to live with my Grandparents after terrorizing the mailmen. Once I was reunited with my then ungroomed little friend, I had the misfortune of witnessing her demise under a truck while crossing the county road.

After a brief flirtation with a cockatoo named Bert, the family settled on 2 rambuctious Corgis--Rufus and Jamie--over-bred but pretty darned cute. My sister, who has the pet gene, really took to them and eventually went on to stay loyal to the breed by having 2 more as an adult. Now that she's cooking my future neice/nephew, it should be interesting to see how her "babies'"react to the new baby coming in June.

Which brings me around to the sad Ballad of Otto the Schitpoo who staggered into our life as a sad stray/runaway at the start of our fertility years. We wanted a baby and that mop of fur was just the fix we needed. We loved him dearly and tolerated his high-mainatence ways with open hearts and a pocketbook.

But, booom, the babies started comin' and Otto stopped being the cutest thing in our world. He retaliated by becoming a pissy pain in the butt. After we spent thousands replacing and cleaning carpets in the old house I vowed that it wouldn't happen in our new house. Naturally, it did and we were overwhelmed by the care of a newborn, a toddler, and an increasingly passive-aggressive pooch. We literally had enough shit to deal with. Otto had to go. Fortunately, a neighbor of Oliver's Dad in Llano offered to adopt him. The begging might have helped. Apparently he's still alive and doing great with his new family. In truth, it was an enormous relief and we reveled in life free of pets. When Anderson's class requested a photo of our pet, I sent a picture of his sister.

With Otto out of the picture, the children became fascinated by our neighbor's rescued dogs through the small hole in the fence. One of Anderson's first words was "D. Dog!" and later "Hi Ariel! Hi Berkeley! Hi Clay!" Occasionally our accomodating neighbor, Karen, would let us join her on walks. We also had Papa and Mimi's Buster and Sophie the Frenchies to gambol with, as well as a bevy of baby Bulldoggees to play with at my sister-in-law's informal petting zoo at the ranch.

Despite the offer to have a pick from the many litters, we smiled with a smug "No thank you!!!", cute as they may be. We have enough wild animals of our own to train.

Imagine my suprise when I spied a red flash of fur loping across the pasture towards (and then under) Casa Avocado's front porch. It's a wild kingdom of flora and fauna at the ranch, but rarely do you find (formerly) domestic animals. We found a cat once but allergies intervened and we turned her over to wise old Uncle Walter to find her a home, which they did. Sadly, the isolated country road has been a bus stop of sorts for the unwanted. For some it's their Waterloo.

I quietly awakend the nappping Oliver so as not to alert the children immersed in a Disney VCR. ("Honey, sorry to wake you but...there's a DOG in the yard!" That got him up fast.) He assessed the situtaion and was immediately met with a jumping hug and many kisses. Talk about relying on the kindess of strangers... Clearly she wasn't rabid, damaged or starving when she passed on the cold refried beans I offered. While we were keeping our cool, she caught Annie's distracted eye and she dashed out to meet her. All was lost when Anderson followed.

What to do? Leave her to the coyotes and a certain, albeit dignified, death as is nature's way? Out of range buying another stud for their dog farm, Aunt Jennifer suggested just that (sight unseen) but the bonding had already begun. Surely our neighbor Karen the Dog Rescuer, could advise us.

With great effort, we loaded her up smack dab in between the babes in their carseats. No resistance but a fair amount of drool and shedding on the hour drive home--most of which was spent flipping from "Holy shit we have a dog!" to "Holy shit we don't want a dog!" to "Wow, we have a DOG!" Despite my shrivelled, dessicated raisin of a heart, she had me at first sight while Oliver needed some convincing. Interestingly, as Karen pointed out, the dog identified Big Daddy as the Alpha, which he suggests is debatable.

Once home, our girl slipped away. Daddy O. and a host of charmed neighbors and their small children overwhelmed the country gal, who responded to the tsunami of affection by cowering underneath a car. After no success (but much excitement), we summoned the Dog Whisperer herself next door. Karen not only coaxed her out but carried her over to our back yard and then supplied us with a collar, dogloo, chew toy, 2 days of food and 3/4 of a bottle a red wine leftover from a party she threw the night before. We had already hit our own booze by the time she arrived as we tried to comprehend our new life ahead. Meanwhile, the mokeys ran wild as our girl watched impassively (and protectively) on.

By the end of the bottle, it was agreed--unless the vet recomended otherwise. Apparently we would have to cough up the cash to get her immunized and spayed if we wanted to offer up to the more humane society anyway, so we might as well keep her.

How often does a perfectly healthy, kid friendly, infinitely lovable 2-3(?)-year-old Australian Red Heeler wander into our lives? Maybe that's just the gift that we really needed all along.

So allow me to introduce you to:

Ginger Cookie Annabelle Malcontent as christened by A.O.

Just what we always never wanted

2007-12-03T10:01:00.000-06:00

Looks like we might have a new addition to the family.

Living La Turista Loca

2007-11-27T19:28:00.000-06:00

Mama and Anderson are entranced by the sparkling lights on the Riverwalk for the Riverwalk Holiday Parade. Despite the lone rebel cypress directly above our heads that refused to light up ike its proliferate cousins, and the outrageous 2-Benjamin-plus bill for four Tex-Mex prix-fixes featuring jalapeno popper et melted fromage-with-chips, followed by lame fajita dinners waterside (location, location, location...), it was really quite charming...

Still life of Annie O. and queso in her proto-pubescent poignancy...

The next AM, a delicious Brunch at Mad Hatter's, beneath the Whitfield on the wall...Followed by a visit to Madame Tussaut's fiftieth branch location, SA-style...

The final contestants in the Mother of the Year smackdown...(Brittany's got nothin' on me. K-Fed, on the other hand...)....

A very famous butt captured forever in wax. (Who knew bees made J-Lo??? The swelling maybe...) Photo courtesy of Daddy-O (note the artistic cropping...)

Save me, Oprah, you are my last hope ...

and still the world weeps.

To be continued...

(with all apologies to the true native Rose of San Antone, La Turista)

Gone fishin'

2007-11-20T18:00:00.000-06:00

for ads in SA but will return soon once I resurface.

Calling all gypsies

2007-11-10T15:51:00.000-06:00

please take my 4 year old daughter/demon child.

Thanks in advance,

Mama Malcontent

ps. the sooner, the better.

Musical Beds Redux

2007-11-08T11:55:00.000-06:00

I'm seriously considering buying each member of our family a separate bed if it means I can get a decent night's sleep.

For instance, take last night:

Annie was suffering from a mysterious stomach ailment so she turned in early in her double bed with Mama by her side. I, in turn, fell asleep with her after a long day selling in SA, topped off with a few pints at work function at Opal's.

Oliver, after reining Anderson to bed, passed out in the chair beside his bed.

I awoke at some point in the early morning to the warm leak from Anderson's pull-up, he having somehow snuggled up next to Annie and I.

Disgusted, I discarded my now wet pajamas and stripped the bed, rousing Oliver from the chair to get Anderson back down in his own bed. Oliver moved to our bed.

Annie soon ended up in our bed instead of sleeping on the plastic sheet protecting her mattress.

And Anderson joined us again about 5am.

That's over 400 pounds of family fighting for position in a Queen size bed.

Oliver keeps campaigning for a California King but I can't afford to match the investments we've already made (or acquired) in our bedding. I'm a slut for good sheets and linens.

And wouldn't that be an open invitation for the children to join us? More space doesn't necessarily mean a more restful sleep; I'm certain they would be just as magnetically attached to us as they are now.

I know, this is all antithetical to the prevailing Nanny 911 philosophy but damned if I have the wits or energy to fight that fight when I'm exhausted myself. We do the best we can.

This will get better, right?

"...and other things lit'rary"

2007-11-05T10:02:00.000-06:00

Oh, how we love the Texas Book Festival!

We had a grand time 3 nights in a row owing to the army of sitters and the wise application of a bit of restraint, unlike last year. (Whew!).

We began kicking it up on Thursday at the Harry's sponsored TBF kickoff, featuring a stacked panel of friends and acquaintances, discussing Don Grahams Literary Austin anthology. I did my homework on the highways of Arkansas heading back from Memphis. Nothing like child restraints to sneak in some reading, carsickness notwithstanding.

It's a fine collection--heavy on the philosopher's rock circuit, until the more familiar "'Austin is a Happy Place, Sort of' and 'Our Scruffy Eden'" from the 80's, to the present Waterloo, etc.. With the holidays looming, it also makes a great gift as my mother will attest, after buying 7 signed copies for far-flung friends and family. Chandler also made an enthusiastic date since Oliver was busy working behind the scenes.

Mom & I finally arrived late, as the VIP reception was winding down, but just in time to greet our dear old friend Spong who was also fashionably tardy. A quick kiss from husband and a few hurried pleasantries later, we scooted with the other partiers to take our seats beneath the peeling ceiling of Jessen Auditorium.

Steve Harrigan moderated and, after lengthy introductions, stirred it up by suggesting that lassitude should be considered one of the book's--and the city's--recurring themes, the official ones being natural beauty, the university and state government. Now that's a sentiment that I can relate to. When pressed, Karen Olsson expounded on that notion by including sex (I presume incestuous after reading/acting as fodder for her novel). Again, I know more than a little bit about that too. The twitter over that topic ultimately gave way to discussion on Austin as dystopia led by Robert Draper and his "Adios to Austin" piece. God bless John Spong and Marion Winik for providing comic relief. Interestingly, Spong was the most native of the bunch and his commentary, not surprisingly, hit closest to home. He even signed our copy to "the finest people I know". Awww.

The love fest carried over to the beloved Dog, where John was encircled by young lovelies (including a charming new girlfriend). After a few pints and some fish & chips, I passed the open tab onto Oliver who chalked/talked it up till way past his bedtime. Miraculously he managed to rise and squeak out an admirable shine for the author's tour of the HRC the next day, followed by the evening's magnificent Gala. "I'm running on fumes, smokes and Maker's Mark" he always likes to say. Too true, too true. After all, if you are going to blow $150 on a rented tux (plus a sitter) you damn well better have a good time.

And we did, made all the memorable by the journey in lovely open-aired Lorena. By the time we pulled up to the valet at the 4 Seasons (because that's the way we roll, even in a bumperless 1985 convertible in dire need of cosmetic work) my 60's sex-kitten coif had been blown into a Bride of Frankenstein shock of hairspray and highlights. I vainly tamed what little form remained before we made the congested rounds. I also realized that the display of my ample bosom may have been a tad intimidating when a surprisingly short but cool senator kept ogling said assets. I spent the rest of the evening fiddling with my throw, made all more worrisome when we got seated at a table of old family friends, one of which sputtered "you look so, um, glamorous!" which I interpreted as polite for trampy.

Undaunted, we enjoyed the dinner and the speakers, especially Marlee Matlin (whom Oliver now has the hots for and managed later to score a hug from) and Roy Blount (providing yet another signed copy for the more bookshelves we need to build). Afterwards we hit the crowded bar where we yammered along with the Kitchen Sisters and Robert Draper until the 4-inch heels made me beg for mercy and call the car around. "Classic!" exclaimed the valet as we lurched out to relieve the sitter by midnight.

Although the daytime panels all looked inviting, Saturday was family recovery day at home, till we were relieved once again of our duties that evening. Although we arrived at the end of the writer's party (notice a theme there?), we managed a quick tour of the ultrafab digs, shoved in a little food, and garnered a quick introduction to Will Clarke, who seems like my kind. Oliver corralled the strays loitering on the curb and we all headed to dinner at Thai Spice, which was happily capable of immediately seating our rag tag table of 12. Ever expansive, my husband ordered a bottle of champagne and a poopoo platter, after which plates upon plates of appetizers arrived, meeting with my raised brow. Someone got something wrong there, but it made for a hell of a lot of leftovers. And then the toasts began...

In any case, to my right were the funny young ducks from the Onion, facing a sweet English professor at St. Ed's and her husband the Asian country musician about town, next to the charming but exhausted Nawotkas in their 3rd trimester. To my left was a professor of educational psychology who wrote a book on Jasper, another author who has a book out on verbal blunders titled UM... and an arts editor at the Dallas Morning News. Oliver went into overdrive trying to make funny with the Onion boys, who were actually rather amused. It all made for a very interesting dinner and we had the good sense (and limited funds after the $300 tab) to skip along back home rather than show the Onions the town--Oliver's erstwhile plan.

On Sunday we headed down to the Capitol en famille with the double stroller. While Big Daddy hung out with Bernstein and Lehrer, I was stuck in the children's entertainment tent waiting for Joe McDermott. Once we reconnected over lemonade, we met Gordon from Sesame Street and posed with our buddy from HEB. A good day until we ran out of cash for festival fare and had to drive through Sonic to get our corn dog on followed by a big family nap.

My only regret was not attending more of the panels but there's always next year--or really just 6 months, when Oliver will be coordinating the inaugural Austin Fiction Festival at the Harry Handsome Center! No galas but another dress-up cocktail party to look forward to (and a renewed hunt for hot couture in the coming months)!

A gala a go go

2007-11-03T10:56:00.000-06:00

and a very good time!

More mingling in store tonight.

Tricks and treats

2007-11-02T14:23:00.000-06:00

Time to sweep out the cobwebs of my moldering mind. The glorious Fall weather of late has made me profoundly spacey, attributable to the heavy doses of allergy/cold/sinus medications I've been popping. What little spurts of energy I've had have been quickly spent at the demands of the moment, which haven't been all that many. Onward through the antihistamine haze...

It's been a full week of overstimulation at the Maison d' Malcontent, the least of which was Halloween and the attendant celebrations. Months ago Annie suggested an Ant Queen (?) as a costume and I seized upon the non-commercial challenge. An inflatable bathing suit underneath a sparkly, velveteen unitard topped with a tiara/antennae--viola!--which left her brother, whom she suggested be a wasp "since they are enemies." Instead I pieced together an easy Anderson Ant with a pirate costume and a white stripe across his nose. Sadly, I think that 80's cultural reference is totally lost on his caregivers, most of whom hadn't been born in that decade.

For the day at school before the classroom parade, another pair of spirited outfits were summoned up. God bless the Smiths for handing down the Pumpkin sweats, and I owe the cat ears to a long ago birthday party. An early morning shot of the Malcontettes:

Pity the children in Texas who are forced in their plush, synthetic costumes, cute as they may be. Even with the cold snap, I'm sure mine were sweating on the playground.

As you can see, Anderson is a little uncertain about the holiday. When asked what he wanted to be, he cheerfully offered "Princess!" Not until you're 12, son....

As backup, I snagged a stifling bee outfit at the Pumpkin Patch in case his Pirattiude wore thin or it got chilly at night. Good thing I did because the outfit was mis-sized and more suitable for an infant than a strapping 34 pound boy- he was busting out in all the very wrong places (midriff?), so we went with Plan Bee, riffing with a Beat Bee, or Steve McQueen when we suited him up in a turtle neck and velvet pants.

Being the good parents, we left the photography to our hosts, while we filled up on the yummy Tortilla soup, delicious wine and good company. Behold the lone photo of the Ant Queen!

My mother actually wore those glasses- isn't that the fashion again?

Speaking of, I'm doing my best to fluff myself up and keep my nervous fingers out of newly coiffed 'do because we are going to the Gala again tonight on the charity of all things literary! Months ago I hopefully bought my getup at Last Call.

Would anyone really pay $795 for these shoes?

My trusty Lyndon Baines Johnson Library and Museum ruler is illustrating the four fucking inches of heel- grant me grace and balance.

And the dress which was altered at the last minute- the last thing I needed was a red velvet bow to accentuate my prominent pooch, Assests or not.

a little over $200 total for what originally marked at over $2000- wooo hooo!

If Oliver's Literary Austin kick off was any indication, it should be a lively time.

Not so very long ago but far, far away

2007-10-23T15:33:00.000-06:00

I spent most of the weekend at the Ranch devouring this tasty and trashy treat

and then topped it off with this cherry last night

and it was gooooooooooood.

Mama needed a little Princess fix of her own.

Meanwhile, back at the farm

2007-10-22T07:52:00.000-06:00

911 is a joke in Oak Ridge, Louisiana, but someone seriously tried to kill my mother's first cousin, Edwards.

As mis-reported to the Bastrop Daily Enterprise, "I told someone I was going to put a sign at the end of the driveway that says 'Andy Bearhamlet doesn't live here,'" Edwards said, talking about his youngest brother who serves as mayor of the village."

Actually Andy the mayor is his first cousin--my uncle and Anderson's namesake. Sure, being a mayor can get you some enemies but in a half-dead town 142 people? The more plausible theory is that the 4 bullets were intended for his younger brother, the acting Senator of those parts. And who shoots at someone without checking the address first?

Still, whoa. Either way.

For the record, I'm a Democrat.

For a lighter bit of Texas/Louisiana History, check out the bio of the Baron de Bastrop.

In addition

2007-10-16T16:35:00.000-06:00

we also added a few more stops in the reunion weekend itenerary including:

a classroom birthday party for Anderson (he's taken a shine on the Bumble Bee costume in the dressup bin)

I discovered that my husband is really a clown

a 16 hour romantic stay at the Mansion with said clown

some good open air crusing in the convertible

a marvelous 40th birthday party at the Salt Lick with kids

A Day Out with Thomas (TM)

(with no rabid bats)

and an amazing dinner at Mimi and Papa's.

No wonder I'm ready for some downtime. Only 2 more weeks till the Texas Book Festival!

Reunited

2007-10-15T18:08:00.000-06:00

and it didn't feel so good.

Not unlike what I felt in High School, come to think of it.

But at least I looked good and isn't that what really matters?

It wasn't all that bad, but it wasn't all that either. If anything, it was overwhelming in an underwhelming kind of way.

More when I've had a chance to process.

TCB

2007-10-15T15:21:00.000-06:00

The Peabody is also known for their swellegant Sunday Brunch in the de-lovely '40's ballroom on the roof. I wouldn't recommend bringing children under 5, regardless of the waffle station stocked with sprinkles and M &M's. I made do with leftovers and a stop to the Eggs Benedict station; poor Oliver barely ate at all. The waltzing Malcontettes liked the band. An aside, Annie has decided she wants to marry her brother because "he's the nicest boy I know". Here's the lovely couple dancing to Happy Birthday for Mutter's 100th, to which everyone in the room sang along:

Later that evening, Nelson babysat while Big Daddy and I debated the merits of Memphis dry-rub vs everyone else's wet ribs at Corky's BBQ. Close call but homestyle (read: Centex) came out ahead. I liked the locals' traditional sausage and cheddar appetizer, my first introduction to which was our first night's grub from Nelson's grill. We both liked having an unexpected date BTW.

The next morning we shot Graceland out of our system, made all the better without the babies. Annie O. wanted no thing to do with "Elvis Parsley's" house because she was afraid Brother would mess things up, and because the famed toilet (not on the tour) scared her. Turns out half her fears weren't unfounded, for Graceland is just not well suited for kids.

In all my research, nothing prepared me for the ceramic albino monkeys in the yellow and black leather TCB TV room, and the glass clowns in the bar. The tackiness is truly a wonder to behold--Big Daddy marvelled at the still-attached burglar bars--as are the myriad opportunities to spend some more money during your visit. All told, despite the special "jumpsuit parade," as Papa (Mutter's son) said, "I don't need to see what a redneck from Tupelo would spend his money on." Still, the pilgrimage continues unabated, and we felt spiritually revived by the trek.

With that out of the way, we hit the road around 2pm headed to Dallas. Poor Anderson spent eight hours of his 3rd birthday tied to a car seat, the only respite being dinner (at Sheba's, see below) in Hope. He didn't seem to mind. He just liked his new hand me down Thomas shirt, seeing a rainbow in the parking lot, and the chocolate cream pie (sans candle).

To atone the sucky birthday, we decided to say "Howdy!" to Big Tex at the State Fair. Our time was limited but we managed to blow a fat wad of money on corn dogs, lemonade, and a handful of rides. I don't think we could have afforded to explore much more. Again, all the wiser for the next visit.

And finally South toward home with some groceries from the Czech Stop in West.

All in all, an absolutely wonderful vacation.

Presenting Annie the Duck Princess

2007-10-12T08:12:00.001-06:00

The Princess and the Peabody

2007-10-11T16:05:00.000-06:00

Come Sunday morning we did our best to fluff up the bebes for brunch in all their resale shop finery. 'Dressed' in Austin is very different than Memphis, especially when it comes to children. You wouldn't believe the Little Lord Fauntleroy outfits my cousins' sons have been subjected to in their time, made all the more poignant by the de rigeur bowl cuts. They have since graduated to preppy Izod polos and Khakis but the Christmas postcards past will haunt them the rest of their days.

Meanwhile, thrifty Mama has been on the hunt for "special occasion clothing" for many months, and struck gold on the clearance rack at Between Friends. Luckily, the demand for such frippery here in rough-and-tumble Texas is low, and damned if I was going to creak open my coin purse for something that will be worn once.

...Ladies and gentlemen, here we have Anderson, sporting a smart navy sweater vest and shirt with madras shorts by Therese...Annie follows, a pure confection in a frothy and exquisitely smocked organza dress complemented by silver glitter ballet shoes from Target.... I myself made do with a funky black cotton ball gown skirt hitched like drapery with clever ribbons underneath and a tight black sleeveless sweater. Big Daddy got off easy with his funeral suit and the Lucchese boots. Trust me when I say we all looked sharp despite the early hour and makeup applied in the car.

At 10:30 on the pointy dot we careened Nelson's mommy-pimpin Odyssey up to the valet stand, making a mad dash to the famed fountain at the Peabody Hotel. Fortunately, the actual ceremony was at 11am--our mistake--allowing us to push the children front and center, toes to the top of the still-rolled red carpet. Great. Now try waiting for 30 minutes next to a shimmering pool of water with impatient if impeccably-attired children.

Good thing we had the long arm of extended family to reign the Malcontettes in, especially Mimi who took the lead in introducing the enchanting Annie O. to the stately Duck Master, in uniform, carrying a commanding cane topped--bien sur--with a brass duck. Minutes before the appointed hour, he turned to my dear daughter and asked if she would like to be the Duck Princess! This meant following him to the "Duck Palace," and escorting him and the ducks to the famous petit lac. Flummoxed by coy modesty's battle with raging excitement, poor Annie needed us to heartily agree on her behalf. What an honor!

For those of you unfamiliar with the march of the fabled Peabody Ducks, check it out.

Wouldn't you know that her canard-head parents blew the Kodak's batteries on Beale Street the night before. Fortunately we still had the camcroder on the Treo. Even if I could figure out how to transfer it to Youtube, I assure you the footage is not for the faint of stomach. Instead we relied on Papa and his trusty camera who gladly accompanied the Princess up the elevator.

By way of Beale Street

2007-10-10T16:18:00.000-06:00

Still with me?

The next morning was a traditional Southern brunch party for Mutter's 100th, at my cousin Elizabeth's (center) lovely home. Nelson, at whose house we stayed, is on the right. My sister, the other Virginia Ford, is in the red and my cousin Laurie is on my right.

As you can see, I'm the big, swarthy one of the bunch. I must have subconsciously highlit my hair blond to blend in.

From the moment the condensation formed on the monogrammed silver goblet bearing a stiff Bloody Mary, I was at home with my family in its entirety. As was Annie, once she tumbled out of our minivan into the expansive lawn for a go at football with her "boys".

We then all assembled to watch the video tribute that my cousin Laurie had the good sense to prepare from testimonials recorded at Mutter's 98th birthday. God bless the waterproof mascara and the perfectly pressed cocktail napkin (also monogrammed). Nelson responded quickly with a roll of paper towels for the rest of the misty eyed family.

And, oh my, the food. Carved Ham and angel biscuits, dainty cucumber sandwiches, crab stuffed tomato canapes, artichoke dip, spinach quiche.... all delicious--and naturally non-dietetic. While the grownups stuffed themselves silly around the pool at the bedecked, draped tables the children worked it all off on the trampoline and jungle gym. And there was even a band which caught the intense attention of young master Anderson.

Come cake time, all the children gathered round. Annie was fresh as a daisy with her smart chapeau from Mimi as she sang a spirited solo rendition of Happy Birthday!

Anderson liked the hat, too.

After naps, the brave sitters arrived and the grown ups (when did that happen?) got to step out for the night.

Here's the thing--we all really love each other and delight in each others' company despite the blood or marriage. But it's a bit strange now that the next generation is now legal. I remember changing the diaper of the handsome, bearded buck in red and I'm delighted to get know the beautiful (and blonde) Sarah beaming next to her sweet Mama.

From dinner and drinks at Automatic Slim's we headed to Beale drawn by the beat of the drum line playing for tips. 6th Street could learn a thing or two from Memphis.

That's the fetching Melinda peeking over her shoulder

and, well, big old me with Elizabeth and Nelson after we arrived at Silky O'Sulivan's. Dueling Piano Bar inside and a really exceptional party band playing R&B favorites on the ginormous patio. OK, so we go to Beale Street and wind up at a frat club. Go figure.

And I'm here to tell you that Nelson can shake her tail feather better than any white girl East of the Mississippi bar none.

as "Big Daddy" (as dubbed by the lead singer) will readily attest. One happy camper.

The same happy got lucky fellow captured the lovely ladies on our way home in the wee, small hours of the morning.

"I still believe in a place called Hope"

2007-10-10T12:55:00.000-06:00

Bear with me, gentle bleaders, as I try to encapsulate the enormity of our journey to Memphis. What a trip!

Following a full day tending to pre-trip details, we hit the road around 7:30pm on Thursday subduing the children with the DVD player en route to Dallas. A smooth trip outside of a small snarl of construction in Waco, where we spied a 1973 hot rod truck with a lone bumper sticker proclaiming, "I (heart) vagina". We took this as a good omen, even if we couldn't capture it with a camera.

Exactly 200 miles and 3 hours after leaving home, we rolled into the West End Hotel--a dated facility undergoing an awkward transition between a Hampton and a Crowne Plaza. Considering loud, cracked out couple being evicted in the lobby while we checked in, our expectations weren't very high, but the room was accommodating and the King made a cozy fit for the family. No syringes.

The next morning, we gorged on the better-than-expected breakfast buffet and then headed out again on the highway. By lunchtime we hit Hope, Arkansas and stopped a spell to pay our respects and stretch our legs.

First stop was the charming Train Depot turned Visitor Center from which we found the way to the hometown boy's childhood home/museum.

Outside of the modest brick house, a brass plaque welcomed us to the "Presidential Shoppe" as in ye olde, although it was dedicated in 1993. Inside the family was greeted by a lovely grande dame and a younger gentleman with a little lift in his loafers. While we signed the guest book, she offered Annie a push pin for the "We're from..." map on the wall, but retracted the offer when she discovered we were from Austin. Apparently many a dour Central Texas Democrat has made the same pilgrimage.

In the seconds before they melted down, the Malcontettes were each given a button declaring "I Like Socks," with a photo of the famed feline. I made a quick exit with the wild monkeys while Daddy got the grand tour. Too many minutes later, he returns with the Director who he actually knows from Austin museum work! The CP Shades ensemble tipped me off instantly that she wasn't from these parts. We got the extra special private tour of the lovingly recreated birthplace next door, somewhat breathlessly delivered. Unfortunately my hungry, squirming children couldn't comprehend the significance and just wanted to muck up all the antique toys. Again, we headed outside to the sandbox where little Billy played.

For lunch we wisely chose the mainstreet, home-style offerings at Sheba's as opposed to the Interstate's Western Sizzler. The fried green tomatoes were heavenly.

Many miles and some hours later we crossed the mighty Mississippi into Memphis, heeding our soon-to-be hosts' warning to lock up through the rougher areas; apparently Memphis now has the distinction of being one of the most dangerous cities in America. You certainly didn't get that sense at our old friend/relative Nelson's amazing house. It was built in the 30's with exquisite charm and craftsmanship, and overlooks the rolling greens of the Galloway Golf Club. The house and lot are triple the size of our humble home which gave the Malcontettes plenty of room to run wild with their cousins while their parents got a blessed breather. Interestingly, the mini-mob tornado was easier to control than the individuals inside.

As you can see, Annie held her ground with her hands firmly on her hips with the gang of wild boys, and little Anderson was in testosterone-fueled heaven.

From the Front Page of the Chicot County Spectator

2007-10-10T12:06:00.000-06:00

Ford to celebrate 100 years of life, changes

Virginia Ford of Lake Village plans to celebrate her 100th birthday Oct. 9 with a party in Memphis, Tenn.

"I'm just thankful I got here," Ford said of her age.

She has travelled all over the world even living in Iran for 15 years. Her husband did consulting work in Beirut and built a factory in the country. Ford said she toured different areas while he was working. Before travelling to Iran, she took her 15 year old son [my Dad!] to New York for two to three days until she could get a visa to travel to Iran. When she finally got her visa, she boarded a freighter ship and was off to Europe. According to Ford, only 4 to 6 people could travel from New York to Europe on the freighter.

While in Europe, Ford said she visited the remains of Vesuvius in Italy. Vesuvius is the volcano that covered Pompeii in 70AD. Ford also visited Lebanon and Tehran. Ford said she was in Iran at the time the Cold War was going on. She continued to say that there were many earthquakes that happened during that time.

She toured Europe for several months and even rode on the Orient Express.

Ford visited China twice, adding that she was one of the first people to enter China after the country was officially "opened to the public." Hong Kong would not allow the train to come into the city, but Ford walked from the train to the port in Hong Kong.

Ford made 2 trips to Russia during her 15 year stay in Iraq.

Ford said she did not want to ride in a plane on her travels. Instead, she took a bus that was "not very well put together" The bus ride was entirely by compass, she said. "I got a room in Baghdad and it was furnished with a rope and a bucket, Ford said. "Vendors would walk by and if you wanted something, you had to put money in the bucket and drop it to the vendor who would put the item in the bucket" she explained.

Ford described Beirut and Baghdad as being "The Gem of the South".

"I traveled somewhere new each year, " Ford explained.

After the Ford and her family moved back to the states, her husband Lester Lee Ford moved the family to Greenville, Miss. Lester bought and ran a cotton seed plant and soon the family built a home. Ford kept busy with her greenhouse and church activities.

Lester died approximately 2 years after moving to Greenville, Ford said. For a while after her husband's death, she lived in Greenville until her granddaughter, Laurie Bridewell of Lake Village brought her here.

After moving to Lake Village, Ford began giving her collection of treasures away. She gave away dishes, Waterford crystal, china and silver among other things. "I wanted to keep my things in my family, " she said "If someone did not want something, Laurie always said she take it, "said Ford, expressing her gratitude. "My grandmother gave me a set of furniture when I was married and now Laurie has it," she said.

According to Ford, she still has her mother's and her own wedding invitations, a letter of condolence a church wrote to her family after her grandfather died in the Civil War, some of her baby dresses, and handkerchiefs her mother made. "Every time one of my grandchildren gets married, they wear one of these handkerchiefs.

Ford married Lester at the age of 20. "I was old when I was married," she said. She also mothered 3 children. Of her sons, Lester Moody and Joe Moody, one attended Harvard Law School and currently a banking lawyer, and the other lives in Florida. He is retired, but once made yacht parts for a living. Her daughter, Virginia Ford Alexander, died from cancer.

Ford also has grandchildren in Memphis, Tenn., Florida and Texas.

Ford was born in 1907 to the late Joseph and Betty Moody. She has one brother that lives in Georgia. He is 3 years younger than her and said, "A man seems to age faster than a woman."

Ford said her father was a dentist and her uncle was a pharmacist. The small family lived in Boston, Ga. Her mother was a homemaker. She had a form of cancer which she later died from. Ford lived in Iran at the time of her mother's death, but was able to make it home before her mother was buried. According to Ford, her mother and father were married over 60 years and soon after her mother passed away, her father died.

Ford said she has always had good health until recently. She also said she has had pneumonia, but Dr. Russell of Lake Village helped her pull her through it. "I can't praise him enough, " Ford said.

"I am looking forward to my birthday party because I will get to see my children and grandchildren that are coming from all over the United States, " Ford said.

And what a party it was.

Happy Birthday Mutter!

For what we lack in color

2007-10-01T12:34:00.001-06:00

we've more than made up with our potting shed/workshop/stage/possible playhouse. We also lack the creativity to select our own analogous color scheme and let Lowe's do the picking. To the left is a Packard Grill from the 20's and on the right are a grouping of 3 60's hubcaps. The red Pleasure Chest is ready to be chilled and filled. Next trick is the bottle tree. Sanford and Son, here we come!

Jiggity Jig

2007-09-28T12:54:00.000-06:00

Home again from Houston after representing for Texas Tourism.

Curiously, the best attraction I experienced was the sprawling studio of this kooky sculptor at sunset. After making a stealthy escape from the conference, Ed and native daughter Jennifer brought me to this wondrous place hidden among the warehouses. Later, they treated me to a lovely dinner at the Austin inspired Dry Creek Cafe across the street from her families business where she has assumed the helm. She even gave me the grand tour despite the discomfort of her 26th week followed by a visit to their lovely 1910 home in the Heights complete with a tower. Ever so briefly, it felt like home- except for that humidity which magically turned my frog fur into a few curls.

The conference itself was acceptable- I didn't really have my game on and was far more interested in soaking up my time alone in the hotel than mixing with my colleagues.

Next stop is Memphis for the celebration for Mutter's century- with Oliver's 46th and Anderson's 3rd birthdays squeezed in on the journey.

And then the reunion on the 12th. I'm off to get some Spanx in lieu of a crash diet or adequate exercise. At least I found a pretty frock on sale at Anthropologie- now I just need to squeeze myself into it. Gaining 20 pounds since March hasn't helped a thing.

Anne Olivia on Birth and Dying

2007-09-28T12:47:00.000-06:00

pretty heavy for Pre-K, if you ask me...

"When I was a baby I came out of my mommy's tummy. I cried. I can show you the pictures. Then the doctor putted a diaper on me. Then we went home. My mommy wanted to chase me and I thought it was funny to get caught."

When you die...

"You get buried. When they put you in a box, its kinda like a bed. After you are in the bed, you get buried. Sometime after you are in the box, you turn into God. Then you float all over the place."

Traveling Mama...

2007-09-24T20:01:00.000-06:00

will tell some tall tales soon.

Introducing Lorena Malcontent

2007-09-21T18:48:00.000-06:00

I can't argue with free and the wild monkeys love it. I guess she stays.

Anne Olivia on War and Peace

2007-09-21T09:35:00.001-06:00

as dictated at school:

"War is fighting for freedom. Freedom is when you can move away from someone you don't like. War is bad because people die"

I'm perplexed by the rhetoric.

When asked again at home. War was still bad and she clarified that "peace" was when you need some time alone

Like, "Give Mama some peace!"

Oh No!

2007-09-20T19:00:00.000-06:00

Not again.

"International Day of Peace with a Whirled Peace" is upon us.

According to the intstructions, "a pinwheel is a childhood symbol that reminds us of a time when things were simple, joyful, peaceful."

Just like last year, right?

Good thing we had the good sense to replace the table without glass this time.

Wish us luck.

ed. note: Anderson is suffering a sty, the poor guy, hence, the lopsided eye.

"Enough about you- what about the children?"

2007-09-20T17:15:00.001-06:00

Just what I always never wanted

2007-09-19T10:40:00.000-06:00

well, maybe just a little.

Daddy O. is planning on bringing home another baby to the family in the form of a 1985 Cabriolet convertible. For those of you keeping score at home, that would make us a 4 car clan including 2 suburbans and a minivan. Good thing Super Dawg has been put out to pasture at the ranch else the neighbors get hip to my husband's obsessions with all things automotive.

But it is apparently free- a gift from his coworker who wanted to find their trusty commuter a good home.

I've always wanted to have a convertible and it's supposed to be red...

I'm deferring judgement until I've seen it this weekend.

More than you ever wanted to know

2007-09-18T16:58:00.000-06:00

When I was a child, my parents would give themselves a moments peace by sending me off to "check out the bathrooms" when dining out. I'm still doing my duty for you, dear ones. Here for your delectation, the ACL's AC'ed outhouses....

And, yes, it was grand and very cool.

And then I sent this yahoo into the Little Boys Room and I got this back:

Nice hunting scene, tho, no?

Much later in the evening with my bestest girlfriend sister after drinking our weight in free beer.

Putting the Fest in Festival

2007-09-17T16:48:00.000-06:00

and what fun it was!

Did you see me with the 65,000 other indie-kids? I sucked in the lumps of my 38 years with some strategically engineered undergarments, donned some ancient rayon sundresses and a few straw hats tied with a hot pink ribbon. Boring Bjorn sandals did their dusty duty over the many miles of mulch and whatever was left of ground cover.

To keep the fresh glow, I slathered myself with Dreamsicle 60 spf baby sunscreen and packed a frozen washcloth and spritzer soaked in Lavender essential oil. A little aromatherapy goes a long way to counter the sweaty stank of thousands, and the Antibacterial wet wipes proved handy as always--I've become such a mom.

It's not my first time at this rodeo and I came prepared. As of last year, the fickle Gods of Hospitality smiled on the Mama and I owe my allegiances to Miller/Heineken/Centex Beverages and later Itunes. Despite their VIPness, the Bueide and Buehler bunch stuck by my side and we all made happy in our little green Oasis in the lesser Lebermann-fueled Pecan Grove. A mister, a semi-private port-a-potty, some chairs, food if you're timely, and a steady stream of free beer pleases Mama to no end.

The Big O earned his weight and then some by graciously acting as babysitter/chauffeur all weekend. Outside of an occasional whine, he shrugged and surrendered "Mama needs to party". Yes, she did, and she'll be repaying that favor until next year when I'll insist on him coming for at least one day. He even bought roses to show that there are no hard feelin's. I think I'll keep him.

Deb took the reins as our intrepid leader with a neat sheet and more wipes as needed. On Friday we headed in aiming for her dream boy Pete Yorn who didn't disappoint, fire delay notwithstanding. Peter, Bjorn and John was filtered through the green screens and I regret catching only a song from Blonde Redhead en route to see my one true love, Neil Finn. I've been with him since Split Enz and the last time he played at SXSW I was moved to joyful tears--but I may have just been under the influence of 3rd trimester hormonal wackiness. Crowded House was an absolute delight made all the more magical when the rain clouds opened on cue with a cool breeze. They responded with "Wherever You Go, the Weather Follows." My other beau Britt was a bit of disappointment and seemed uncomfortable with the big stage and/or the punishing heat. I had high expectations but he just didn't grab me in that setting- a far cry from the Hole in the Wall back in the day.

By dark we all maneuvered to whisk me into the VIP area surrounded by my better-cred'ed buddies. It worked but I was underwhelmed- it stank of mulch and the offerings were only a small step above the Heineken area, although the Tito's cocktail was awfully refreshing. In my stupor, I foolishly passed on an invitation to see Gotan Project and eventually ventured out to see Bjork which was a bust from our vantage point--the theatricality didn't off set her screech--so we wisely packed it up and called it a night.

Come sunrise, Mama rose and tried to shine through the next-day dull and grimy festival funk. The chlorine of a mid-morning swim helped as did the nap I enjoyed with Annie. Afterwards we all headed to the ville of Pfluger for a housewarming. My quick escape was hastened by my allergic reaction to their cats, which thankfully cleared by the time the Big-O dropped me off at the Mopac footbridge, just as the Buehlers rode up on their bicycles. I took this as a good omen and was thankful I had waited til 5pm to launch Day 2, but I'm a little sad we missed the Sippy Cups who we all enjoyed at SXSW.

As the sun set, we situated ourselves and settled in for an ass-kicking from the Arctic Monkeys. It came as a pleasant surprise although I can't get over what little babies they are! The lead singer needs to get with the Proactiv, and his stage presence totally reminds me of Jennings in the Wannabes, accent or no. My moment came later that evening with the Arcade Fire who staged an absolutely amazing show--wholly engaging even from the sidelines. I was entranced and it was an exuberant end to a beautiful night.

Next morning Daddy O. got to sleep late again (the least I could do) while I squeezed some time in with the Malcontettes. Although I reasoned with Annie that I was "working" by giving my maps out, 2- going on 3-year-old Anderson wasn't buying it, and burst out in tears when O dropped me off again at the bridge at noon. Whatever guilt I felt by my son's wailing quickly evaporated when I made it to Yo La Tengo in time to hear From a Motel 6. How I love them in all their geek glory- enough to stand for an hour in the 95 degree midday sun- thank God for the kindly woman who offered to cover my back in sunscreen.

Floating solo, I headed back to the Heineken Oasis for lemonade and a quick lunch- living dangerously with the Tuna Nicoise which was at least iced. With a brief stop for the Broken West I settled in the shade for Ben Kweller and my appointed meeting place with Deb, bearing her swell absent husband's VIP badge for the day. Kweller struck me as a little cartoonish and was certainly over-dressed but I'm interested to hear his new foray in kids music. By 4pm we gathered everyone up at Midlake, whom I've been digging on emusic of late. It was just the mellow Seals n' Crofts/Fleetwood Macky 70's vibe I needed to carry me over, and the onstage marriage proposal was a charming thing to witness (by me and the hundreds present).

Finally we pinned down the mercurial Bruno Y., who had gathered a fistful of passes from his job at Itunes. Unlike us, he really did have to work, interviewing the artists and being generally accountable to the almighty Apple. Our boy has come a long way since Austin High, but his success has done little to change him. Colorful and wonderful as always.

To the privileged tents we go to find the Southern Belle of the Ball holding court with some familiar faces. Once we made use of the famed facilities, our fate was sealed as we got sucked into the vortex of the sweeter side of ACL. I was happy to surrender to VIP-dom considering I had arrived at noon and settled in for a few hours of spirited shit-shooting fueled by the abundant free beer. All momentum was lost as Laura and I rationalized that we had already seen Wilco and we could barely make out the lyrical Decemberists from our cushy vantage point. By the time Dylan started bleating (sorry Bob) I was pleased that we had held our ground--or at least a round, draped table with a smart cacti arrangement I was tempted to lift.

Whew- I'm worn out just writing this. But you know, I really don't feel as though I've outgrown the festival impulse, just maybe become a little more discriminating as to how I take it all in. Bounce-back is a bit harder but it's worth it in the end.

Until next year!

I've seen fire, I've seen rain

2007-09-14T21:09:00.001-06:00

Bugging Out

2007-09-12T14:52:00.000-06:00

Field mice, head lice
Spiders in the kitchen
Don't think twice 'bout
Whatever keeps you itchin'
Ice water, flyswatter
Gonna get you through
The day

Understandably, "Casa Avocado," our ca. 1971 mobile home, is fairly porous, and I've grown accustomed to the creepies that crawl (or fly) in. It comes with the territory, and we've raised the younguns to identify and avoid the worst of the batch. Over the years, I've learned to accept and even appreciate the wildlife at the ranch, but when it gets inside I have my limits.

Over the past weekend we battled fire ants, carpenter ants, yellow jackets, menacing spiders, red wasps, dirt daubers, 'skeeters and more--all indoors. Fearless husband responded by sealing up holes with duct tape. It's a good look--the passage way between the original trailer and the 10 x 15 "Great Room" addition, already lined with a tacked-up, sun-bleached Mexican oil cloth, is now piped with the dull glint of said multipurpose silver tape. While patching up some pesky leaks (and nearly electrocuting himself), Daddy O. never endeavored to replace the faux wood paneling, and I found the converted table cloth festive. And don't the words "mobile," "home," and "duct tape" go together like meringue on lemon curd?

Come darkness, the real life-and-death drama gets staged against the large, white Christmas lights on the deck. While every moth and flying pest in creation is drawn to the light, the next step on the food chain is reflexively poised, eagerly awaiting the all-night, all-you-can-eat buffet. When we arrived, some smart spiders had staked their spot, but by morning they were ousted by a line of 8 very satisfied Praying Mantises. On Saturday morning it was novel enough to catch one of the walking sticks and a huge moth in glass jars. By Sunday morning, fully 20 praying mantises had busted the spiders' turf. By Sunday evening, I was ready to burn the whole damn trailer to the ground.

Poor Annie got the worst of it and seems to have become Annie the Ant Magnet. As if the peppering of itchy bites wasn't bad enough, she had a mysterious flare-up of hives. Even so, after the Benadryl she was in remarkably good spirits--especially when she eagerly alerted me that she "saw something in the bathroom!". Oliver was roused from a nap to investigate--another mouse dashing about!

I take small comfort in the "country mouse" delusion (as opposed to city rats which really give me the willies) and we've theorized that the allusions to mice in nursery rhymes are indicative of how common they were/really are.

Pesticides have come a long way since then but Daddy O. blew up at the idea of a bomb. After the subsequent row, however, he conceded that if the festering pests destroyed our next visit, we'd blast the little buggers and blanket everything with poison.

All told, I fear we may have exceeded our quaint little trailer's shelf life. After replacing practically everything, our cozy cabin on the creek may be ready to be dragged out to pasture where all things mechanical go to die. At least she'll have some company with the rotted-out Pontoon boat and rusted-out Datsun pickup.

In the meantime, I'm dreaming about weekends in a Lowe's Katrina Cottage--aren't they just adorable! Anyone care to donate $700 (plus a contractor, materials, a new septic system, appliances, etc.) for a good cause? You'll be the guest of honor at the housewarming--or is that "-swarming"?

As I was walking on the Hills...

2007-09-11T13:35:00.000-06:00

... one grey and gloomy day, I brought a camera and Anderson along in the stroller as an alibi to document the little things that make my walk worthwhile. Mind you, this is a document of the ritzier (1B) side of the ravine, but the yard art doesn't disappoint- my side of the mountain (1A) is somewhat lacking in local color.

A nifty mosaic from a bygone era.

I would love to create something like this.

Every mid-century ranch home needs a 3/4-size statue of a rearing stallion in its 3/4-size front yard. My stepmother, who lives in sight distance, is tempted to sneak over and adorn the old nag with a straw hat.

Is a plastic bowling pin overflowing with Christmas lights a sort of pineapple welcome in one's entry?

Flying your true colors is fine but no substitute for drapery.

If you're go all uber-moderne on us, at least freshen up the old chateau door peeling of paint. Despite the fishbowl effect and the fabulous furniture, I have never seen any stirrings of life inside.

The spider web entry rocks-

as does the fair hared Indian maiden smiling around the corner.

Now that's what I call a party pad car port. The trash bins do little to diminish the supreme hipness of that staircase.

This house just makes me happy as does his jolly owner who has a marvelous workshop behind the copper garage doors. A gargoyle is also standing guard by the front door and would that mailbox be complete without the dragon devouring the stick?

The buffalo isn't jiving with the frogs and daises but I appreciate the impulse.

I'm assuming this is symbolic of some team but I'm at loss why they would plaster that allegiance on a fireplace exterior, much less arrange seating around it.

I covet this deer-proofed garden at the edge of the cliff.

"Here lies Jonny the Dead Pig" reads his grave. He was senselessly killed by some "drunk teenagers" according to the kids who live in this swell house. That's OK because they have more including these gorillas:

Something tells me I would like their parents.

The pink flamingos and the artificial flowers by the door aren't adding any cred to this million dollar manse.

I'm intrigued by this 50's gem. The pink ribbons seem to indicate something is afoot yet the only furniture inside are 2 folding camp chairs and a kids collapsible tent. The view must be amazing but this is unfortunately as close as I'll ever get.

The murky life-sized figure is one of those ancient soldiers entombed in China- or just outside of Dallas if my limited knowledge of cultural geography and Texas Tourism serves me correct. Regardless, it spooks me every time-- but not as much as this phallic winged wonder:

What the fuck is that and why would anyone in their right mind step across that creepy threshold?

The watchtower must command one of the best views in Austin. But I bet it gets really hot up there. Curiously it housed a lone spinning wheel up until recently.

And finally the summit at the Reservoir with no water in sight. Indeed, the water is flowing underground. That's the 360 Bridge in the clouds- the view is truly spectacular on a clear day

My handsome accomplice weary of his Mama's antics.

Home again, home again....

Don't get me started on the trash that lives inside this cozy but chaotic house with the rusty bench, gate that needs painting, half-finished shed, and the lawn that never gets mowed. The garden is an improvement...

Forgive me for I have fallen

2007-09-11T13:15:00.000-06:00

but I'm getting back on the wagon.

I promise. After ACL, my Grandmother's 100th Birthday party in Memphis, and my 20th reunion next month.

The demon weed seduced me yet again--this past deadline was nearly the death of me.

When the insurance allows, I'll let the Chantix work its magic again. In the meantime, I haven't surrendered completely. At least I'm walking religiously and I can't handle the Hills huffing and puffing. O, Moderation, please be mine.

One day at a time, as they say.

This could have been the fever...

2007-08-29T16:31:00.001-06:00

but maybe not.

I swear to God (or the Virgen of the Guadalupe, as the case may be) that this sticker affixed to a light pole at Triangle intersection with Guadalupe and Lamar has

MILF

in Gothic letters on the banner below.

Can anyone out there confirm or deny?

You give me fever

2007-08-29T07:21:00.000-06:00

This is the nasty booger bear that's been causing all the trouble around the casa.

Streptococcal pharyngitis struck us down- or at least the girls, mama included.

All this on top of drop dead deadline- no good if you are feeling drop dead.

Instead, I surrendered to the strep and tried to enjoy the endless hours of Candy Land Wheel and the Discovery Channel.

My daughter the model

2007-08-22T06:58:00.000-06:00

Our little ray of sunshine graced the dingy newsprint of my former employer this morning!

The Malcontent Mama is alive and well

2007-08-17T18:26:00.000-06:00

just busy kicking a new competitors ass in Austin, Texas.

She will triumphantly return soon.

Better late than never

2007-08-06T15:48:00.000-06:00

Pity the deprived and woefully under-stimulated Malcontettes. Mama and Co. took their first socked steps into a Gymboree this past weekend. We managed to skip this critical stage in their early development, and bounced in as big kids thanks to friend Dulcie's birthday party.

And it was fun!

I know many a young mother who swears by Gymbo, and I've seen many a bouncy babe proudly show off their stamps after a visit. It's just that we have always spent a small fortune on daycare, so our quality time wasn't spent on colorful mats. Besides, the creeping corporate cross-marketing made my skin crawl, so I kept company with my high-minded ways.

But I'm here to tell you that tumbling with my children to the tunes of Gilberto Gil (smart partnership Putamayo!) on a Sunday afternoon was downright pleasant.

As was the rest of the weekend. Highlights included our first family movie theatre expedition--Ratatouille--which was charming enough for us to consider (briefly) dragging the bebes to Paris. First we'll have to pay off the fortune spent on concessions alone- $27!!--with all still hungry for lunch afterwards. Annie was entranced; Anderson was unconvinced but managed to stay quiet with only a little restraint.

After no naps, we bravely soldiered on for some pool time and "Summertime" drinking. I have no idea what John concocted but it was a little ray of citrus sunshine in a plastic tumbler, consumed belly-button deep in the kiddie pool. Come sundown, we let the savages run wild and stuffed ourselves silly with greasy brats (the sausage kind) and burgers until we lined the kiddoes up for Shrek 3.

Good God, how did we get here?

"More than meets the eye"

2007-08-03T16:10:00.001-06:00

Comet '87 is on loan from Heather so I decided to document my high school demons for the wide world web to see.

"FLOWER POWER. Malcontent Senior dons Hippie Attire for the Homecoming Parade."

Never the embodiment of Maroon Spirit, the get-up was a protest against our class president's edict to wear Animal House togas to represent the 60's, our class' assigned Parade era. Drama geek me instead liberated a lovely frock from the theatre department's closets. I was resplendent in shimmering pastel paisley with a pair of lime green Mary Jane's and a wig from Goodwill (small shudder) to complete the outfit.

"RESPECT" Seniors Malcontent, etc.., ask for a little respect at talent show"

Another wig! And, oh my chin. Michael served as the pimp to Holly's Aretha for this highly choreographed routine- I guess that made us all the whores?

"These are the times to remember"

an ad placed by the "spirit" group A.K.H (All Kinds of Hell, don't you know...) who had no function or unity beyond wearing sweatshirts on game days. I owe my own inclusion to my best big girlfriend-sister who had tagged me the year before. Always the Malcontent, I vividly remember going to Rooster Andrews' with the Powells and getting "Walk on the Wild Side" steamed onto my grey sweat.

"Lending a hand- PALS help young kids"

My only legacy which I gather is still going strong today. I told you I loved that dress- get a load of the sleeves.

Apparently I served as a Student Council Rep too.

And, of course, Drama Club. (Told you).

How about the 1997 predictions?

"Willy" Taylor was right on the money by planning on "performing in a Symphony Orchestra and possibly touring with my original jazz group."

I, however, was off. "So and so anticipates being married to his high school sweetheart. Malcontent Senior will be 'filing for a divorce in my spare time'".

Why the snarl?

2007-08-01T05:44:00.000-06:00

Dear ones,

Damn deadline done got me again.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with this:

I'm eagerly awaiting your Senior portraits.

Much more to follow when I get a chance to surface.

For any expectant mothers out there

2007-07-25T16:18:00.001-06:00

If you want to get a sense of what breast feeding is going to feel like, may I suggest slamming your nipple into a desk drawer.

That's what I did unintentionally today and with enough force to draw blood.

What's with it with my girls? First mastitis on the left and now massive trauma on the right.

I might do it all again if I knew I could get another dumpling as cute as baby Abigail, who arrived yesterday for a visit.

I realized, however, how impossible that would be as I snuggled with her while the Malcontettes made like wild monkeys. Interestingly, Annie was the one who acted out to while Anderson was sweet and curious meeting his new cousin. Over breakfast, Annie sighed and announced that she just loves her "cute, beautiful new baby cousin", as do we all.

While I'm on the too-cute-to-post roll, behold what my sister snapped on her grand tour of Australia/New Zealand.

All together now!

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

In Mirena we trust.

"Let's add a little sparkle..."

2007-07-24T21:06:00.000-06:00

by using this happening font appropriately called "Starbright" (so sayeth Jaye). Now that's a cost cutter...

but it looks a little cheap above the plastic planted in feeding troughs.

My compliments to the landscaper who did an admirable job with the living plants.

but I hope the genius who had the brilliant idea of sponge painting the poolside in the muddy mauve and teal has been put to pasture. As you can see, the pool is quite lovely. The lobby also is showing progress,

but a few flat screen TVs does not a boutique hotel make and the bar stools need to be burned.

What once was the cocktail lounge has since given way to the Christway Church. I love the Regal Begalesque stained glass and brass knocker. The Malcontettes and Mama were intrigued by the tamborine and praise shouting but we didn't have the guts to knock.

Everyone loves a great map!

and then the family checked in...

2007-07-23T21:48:00.000-06:00

and then the camera came out, if only to document the bewildering bits of the remodel. But first, the babies and then bed for tonight.

the suite life

2007-07-23T20:19:00.000-06:00

Hooray for trade! Now if I had coughed up genuine dough for a weekend at this hotel, you'd be reading an entirely different post.

My client, the Clarion, is going through a rough remodel, from the sparkling rhinestone jewel of '63 to a new look for the Big 'Oughts, hoping to swing with the cool cats via a shoehorned boutiquey facelift. It's a painful transition further complicated by a lingering Dynasty-era makeover of mauve and fake flora.

Friday night was Ladies' Night, as well documented by my bitchy brethren. Queen Karla was holding court at the Hyatt, so I booked a room to have some cool, clean tiles close by on which to lay my head after the festivities. Karla offered her luxurious Pricelined pad but some indignities are best suffered in a room of one's own. Or at least a room far, far away with black out curtains. And no early wake up calls from demanding children or husbands.

Karla May checked in across my hall for the adventure; she wasn't brave enough to crash on the pull out in my King Suite. Instead, she wound up with a pre-facelift room, featuring an acidy botanical and a balcony sans door--and a decent sleep without my snoring and sleepwalking/talking/night terrors.

Come 5pm I barrel in with a $15 Rose and $3 of bath salts from Whip In. Primping sucked up about half the bottle, and then Miss Pine Curtain christens the suite with another bottle of Rose. All this before we hit dear ole Opal's, where we regined over the upstairs with our squawks and cackles. Lordy, I love my ladies and I wish we could play more often.

My lazy left eye was going half mast when Marla wisely called it a night. As I woozily headed to the car, I took a tumble when the strap of my platform shoes popped, and found myself surrounded by a handsome clutch of young gentleman to my rescue. I was delighted by the sudden attention, though unscathed outside of a dainty scrape on me knee. The Bloody Mary and multiple pints I downed had nothing to do with this predicament.

Safe if not sound, Karla May and I retreated to the suite for more whine/wine(!). Somehow I managed not to get sick.

Miraculously, I awoke the next morning at 9:45 AM (ahaaaa the angels sang...) chipper--or maybe still buzzin. After a long shower I snuggled back in the window-unit's Arctic blast for some "Snapped," until the knock from my fellow runaway.

It's not everyday you can stay at a hotel with a Malaysian Seafood Restaurant attached. The obvioulsy popular Dim Sum brunch also proved to be an adventuresome but effective way to feed a hangover--provided that you avoid the chickens' feet, pigs' ears, pork intestines and jellyfish. Karla May's dietary restrictions steered us clear of the really hurlarific specialities of the house.

Soon, with the noon checkout fast approaching, KM had to head back to the real world, leaving me alone to wallow away the hours with a remote and the AC cranked down to a chillin 65.

And then, just when I was nice and cozy...I start missing the little savages and call 'em in.

afterall, it's a small world

2007-07-14T09:37:00.000-06:00

Oliver's off in New York to represent at the Sip-n-See for this scrumptious sack of sugar who just turned 10 weeks yesterday. I'm sad that I can't snuggle with my darling niece but hopefully she'll be coming back to the ranch soon.

Presumably the Big O. will be doing enough "museum business" on Monday and Tuesday to justify the hotel room and the ticket for the Big U to pay. Until then, he's gallivanting around with his best buddy T. Tex aka Tommy Joe.

Last night he called from a French Restaurant where his waitress was the best friend of his first cousin's daughter (2nd, right?), who is engaged to Remy in "Syd Matters," who started the minor international incident 2 years ago at SXSW. Whew- got that? I'm not sure I do either but you can relive it here

Truth be told, it's been pretty uneventful around the ole Maison without Big Daddy. Annie got farmed out for a night away at Gran Chan's, so it's just been me and Baby Blue Eyes, who is glazing over with "Charlie and Lola" at the moment. Mind you, this is Day 1 of solo parenting so I may revise my opinion by the end of the weekend. Sure we miss him but I'm glad he's getting a well-deserved vacation away instead of the hell he had the week prior when he stayed at home.