Where do babies come from?

When I was small, my Dad carried this photo of me in his wallet. Come to think of it, I believe he carried this photo of me in his wallet until the thing (the wallet that is) disintegrated in like 2001. Or for all I know, he could still be carrying the same wallet from 1980 around in his pocket. It's possible.

I was quite enamored with this photo of myself as a young child. I've noticed that toddlers are frequently excited by the fact that they used to be babies. Why? No clue. But this is a handy trick to be aware of should you be babysitting a 2 year old with attitude. Just whip out a baby picture and -bam- toddler attention is diverted.

Every time I asked to see this photo my Dad would tell the story about how this was the picture he took when he found me in the woods. As the story goes, he was walking through the forest and found a baby (me). He came home and asked my Mom if they could keep me. My Mom, thinking that this lost child of the woods was quite cute said "okay, we can keep her."

That is where babies come from. The woods.

So yes, I fully believed that I was found in the woods on a snowy day (dressed in tights no less) until far past the age where I could really find this plausible.

Other things I believed:
That when my Dad pointed to Massachusetts on the globe we owned that I would be able to see his finger if I looked up at the sky.

I also believed there were half days. Like when I asked what day it was someone was going to say "Tomorrow is Tuesday, bit only 'til noon, then it will be Wednesday."

All the places I've been in the 'aughts

My attempt at a decade long recap of life as it's happened. Also, I feel that there should be points awarded for use of the term 'aught.

2000 - 2nd and 3rd year of college. Seems like a blur. I think I worked at the hospital then, and I'm pretty sure Murph and I went to Toronto in the winter to visit Lou. Upon arriving in Canada, we learned that Lou was in Worcester. It all worked out though because we met Dave, the nicest guy in Canada.

2001 - Still in college. I started working at Filene's in the junior's department. 9/11 happened. I turned 21 the next day. We went to NYC at Christmas time and saw a midnight showing of The Royal Tenenbaums. I may have worked for 30 days or less as a telemarketer. Besides these details this year is even more blurry.

2002 - Graduated from college. Spent several months homeless. Started the very expensive experiment called graduate school. Took a data entry job that weirdly turned into a career in the insurance industry. Likely spent way too much time wondering if Murph and I should live together - because how often do people really marry their college sweetheart? Also took a fantastic trip to California and saw LA to SF while we drove PCH 1. So many great memories.

2003 - Learned that graduate school sucked my will to live. Took my first trans-atlantic flight and went to Paris with Murph for a week. Despite the fact that we were poor, living in a shitty basement apartment and Murph wasn't even working yet, going to Paris was the best idea we ever had. yay! This was also the year we moved out of Worcester -woot! Murph proposed on Christmas Eve after I gave him a matching bath towel set. I also recall whitewater rafting, buying a Jetta and being introduced to Idylwild Farm.

2004 - Got married on my birthday! Went on honeymoon to Las Vegas. I accidentally bumped into Pierce Brosnan in the pool area at the MGM Grand. Moved into my Great Grandmother's house in Auburn so that we could start saving for a house of our own. Other things must have happened, but I probably spent all my time reading wedding-related message boards (read: actually just reading the daily drama of theknot.com). If only I gotten married after wedding blogs really exploded.

2005 - Went to Iceland in February for a long weekend. Best idea ever. No really, it was. Ranks up there as one of my favorite vacations of all time. There was swimming, massages and a wonderful vegetarian restaurant that served chocolate cake every night. We lived in Auburn and I started going to yoga 3 times a week. Also joined Weighwatchers online (which worked!) and started cooking a whole lot more. Murph bought the yellow GTI.

2006 - Went to London with Murph for a week. This decision was made on the fly, but well worth it and conveniently occurred while the boiler in our house was busted in March in New England. Which is a terrible time for a broken boiler. Oh and our bathroom was also torn apart - like down to the studs torn apart. Ah, London, home of tea and working toilets. Then we bought a House and spent 4th of July of scrubbing and painting. I can still smell the vinegar. We adopted Sir Briggsington Neck Beard III. I started this blog.

2007 - There must have been more painting of the house. We adopted Tuckertino Ninja Murphy. Traded in the red GTI for the Forester. Celebrated my Grandparents 50th wedding anniversary by going bowling. Decided it would be a good time to see a counselor and get some of this anxiety in check. Had the worst camping trip ever at Basin Pond. I went to San Diego to visit my friend Heather and then we went back when she got married in November. I missed the work convention but vowed never to do that again.

2008 - Hired a dog trainer after the terrible Briggs-protest-sprained-ankle incident. Murph and I vacationed in Bar Harbor, Maine and I showered at a lobster pound. Joined a gym and also learned how much I HATE exercising in the morning. Murph had his jaw wired shut for 6 weeks. I could have lived without that experience, but now I know how to liquefy a cupcake. My Dad was sober for the first time since I can remember - ever. Birthday re-do! Acupuncture. Snowshoeing! Went to the Blogher Boston mini conference.

2009 - Five Years married! Ate at a raw-vegan restaurant where clove ice cream was the star of the evening. Made enchiladas for the first time ever. Decided it was time to give up real ice cream forever so I bought an ice cream machine and started working on some vegan versions. Went on a cruise. Started a blog at work. We camped in Vermont and visited the home of Ben & Jerry's and Green Mountain Coffee. Murph made a double fire and we ate vegan 'smores. During the summer it rained almost every day for months, which was a great excuse for having a really crappy garden. Then it stopped raining entirely for the next few months, which was also a really good excuse for having a crappy garden. Started going to the gym in the evening and that has made all the difference.

And there it is - my decade. Something tells me the next 10 are going to be even better.

My Teddy Kennedy Memory

It was on my 8th Grade field trip to Washington DC that I snapped this picture of Senator Kennedy. Like so many 8th grade classes before me, I sat on the steps of the US Capitol while he talked to my classmates. We were from Massachusetts and he made time for even the youngest of constituents. What he said that day...I have no idea. All I knew was that it was IMPORTANT that I had photographic evidence that I had met the man. That my Nana would be very happy about such things.

I'm not sure why I have kept this photo all these years. Is it partially based on the fact that I think The Nana would want me to? Yes. Is it because I want to hold on to a little piece of Kennedy lore? Perhaps.

Street Law

This story, about a judge who has been taking the law into his own hands with regard to a certain Toyota Corolla, is just so...so...reminiscent of Worcester.

If you have ever lived in a New England city without the use of a parking spot, you know this dilemma well. Saying that parking is at a premium in most neighborhoods is an understatement, and when it snows it gets MUCH worse.

Parking spots are personal. I understand. Driving around looking for street parking is tiresome and loathsome and awful especially when it's super hot or snowing. Sometimes trying to find a spot where you won't be towed, ticketed, vandalized or stolen is so exhausting that you eventually give up and park on that corner you're not too keen on. If you're lucky enough to snag a spot, you don't just let it go after you've spent a few hours shoveling your car out from under the most recent nor'easter. (of course if everyone with a car just shoveled it wouldn't matter).

People take certain measures when trying to protect a spot on the street. Typically they start by finding some object and leaving it in the spot. Lawn chairs seem to work well, as do the faux-ficial orange cones, old computer monitors and garbage bins. Most people are too lazy to get out and move these items and therefore just continue driving aimlessly until the end of time looking for a spot. I will admit right now to never moving an item out of a spot, as I was always too afraid that a neighborhood spy would rat me out and I would become the victim of some wild yelling maniac.

Wild maniacs are people I typically try to avoid.

Other people take what I'll call the "I own the street approach". They believe that because their house is on that stretch of road, they are the only ones entitled to park there. We once had neighbors move in and post handwritten signs on the trees on the road explaining that they just bought this whole house, there was not any off street parking, and they were reserving the street for themselves by proclaiming "Parking for #32 Only". This basically got them laughed off of the road. I will admit to taking pleasure in parking there at every opportunity I got.

Then there are the people who believe that their longevity in the neighborhood somehow puts their name on the spot in front of there house. I once left on a Sunday morning to go get bagels. I returned, parked the car and headed inside to spend the day toiling away at writing some paper. A few HOURS later there was a knock on my door and a woman standing outside that I had never seen before. She asked if that was my black car. When I responded yes, she said I should move it now, as I was parked in her spot. When I refused, she got quite heated proclaiming her long time residency and the fact that she was at church as her right to that spot. When I tried to explain that it was a street spot, she had been gone for HOURS and anyone could park there, she started yelling at me. I believe I told her "where to go" and did not move my car for the rest of day on principle. Of course I avoided that spot in the future lest she let the air out my tires.

Exciting Suburban Animal Chases

Did I ever tell you about that time a fully saddled horse came trotting down our street without a rider? I swear I wrote about it before, but cannot for the life of me find the story.

It was a Saturday morning and Tuckertino had just escaped out the back door. The dog took off down the road, the husband took off after him, and I took off after the husband holding a bag of treats. Dog treats, that is, not husband treats. Hmmm...Husband treats? (Queue fantasy vignette of me running down the street balancing a platter of vegan cupcakes yelling "Murph! Cupcakes!").

So after a good bit a yelling, the husband cornered the dog in the neighbor's back yard and scooped him up. We walked home, reprimanded the Tino and then probably gave him a treat. The husband then loaded both dogs into the car for the weekly dump trip. A magical place where the Tino would get more treats from the likes of Crazy Dump Guy.

The boys left and I was in the kitchen when I heard the distinctive "clip-clop" of a horse getting louder and faster. As it was daylight, and I couldn't very well turn off all the lights and stare unabashedly out the window, I poked my head out the front door as all good (read nosey) neighbors do in the suburbs.

Fortunately, I timed this perfectly and watched as a riderless, horse came trotting down our side street and took a left onto Plant Ave. A few hundred meters behind the horse a boy riding a BMX bike was peddling after the horse, yelling something to the effect of "please stop him! please stop him!" Behind the boy was an old "grandma-style" sedan of the crown vic, old school Caddy variety following him ever so carefully.

Within a few minuets the boy came back up the street, walking the horse by it's lead. The car followed them slowly still with the BMX hanging out of the trunk. Apparently the BMX boy's girlfriend was getting ready to ride her horse, when it spooked and ran out of the barn and up the road. The boy took off after the horse, and upon seeing something WILD the car just started to follow them figuring they could be of assistance at some point.

I was just happy not to be the only people in the neighborhood having to chase down their animals.

Bed Time Particulars/Neurosis

On more than one occasion I have gotten out of bed to actually make the bed so that the sheets are perfectly straight and not all bunched up around my feet. I am not opposed to doing this while Brian is in the bed. I just make it around him.

The other thing I can't handle is when the sheets get pulled way up and try to choke me out. So yes, I will also re-make the bed if the sheets are too high up.

I also hate light. One time I actually made Brian get out of the bed to help me move the whole thing over 3 feet because the moon light was too bright through the window. Of course, we moved the bed in the wrong direction and within 15 minutes, Brian was fast asleep and I had moon light across my face again.

You Always Knew Hummels Were Creepy

When my brother was about 4 he was probably the funniest person on the planet. He was small, what with being 4 and all, but he could knock the socks off of any comedian out there. In fact, Johny Carson probably should have staved off retire just a bit longer to give my 4 year old brother the chance to host the Tonight Show - then at least we might not be faced with all this Jay Leno Talk Show crap. Anyway, at 4 this kid was a comedic genius. He was also great at amusing himself. He could watch TV, draw a comic book, or stage himself a birthday party to keep himself occupied to no end. I've always felt that these are all good qualities in a child under 10.

My Aunt Ann used to watch him once a week while my Mom worked. Not having children, her house was not exactly childproof, but Bob was not exactly a baby. One day she hoped in the shower while he was there. She figured he'd just watch cartoons, but instead he found something that really seemed to get his imagination going...her partner's Hummel Collection.

Now Hummels are a bit weird to begin with is you ask me. What's funnier is that the Hummel collection seemed very out of character for Ann's partner. Never in 100 years would you think that she would find those doe-eyed cereamic statutes even remotely interesting. Alas, she had several of them on a book shelf. If you have ever picked up a Hummel you've probably noticed how strangely fragile they are. Perhaps this is why I gravitate to Fiestawear which is nearly indestructible. I tend to break stuff.

As Ann tells the story, she was getting out of the shower and heard Bob chatting up a storm as little kids often do. She opened the door to the bathroom and heard, "And then HIS head popped off, too". Throwing on a towel she came running out to livingroom to find Bob surrounded by decapitated Hummels.

This always makes me laugh, thinking of this little kid, trying to entertain himself and suddenly finding himself surrounded by decapitated ceramic figures and a shocked woman in a towel.

And of course what made me think of this? Well, it was these pictures of this guy in the UK who reconfigures old and new figurines into hoodlums and miscreants. My first thought: I wonder if Bob would have decapitated those figures or would he have left well enough alone? I wonder if anyone will post these on the c-space. I sure hope so.

The One Where You See My Underwear

I have been meaning to write about this for weeks but sometimes life has a habit of getting in the way of life. Then I read this post about lost underpants at StopBouncing and I realized I had to tell this story.

Before vacation I rifled through my drawers looking to pack my summery things and decided that I was in need of underwear. I mean, not that my stash of underwear was terrible, but it was time for new. You've been there- don't lie. You know when it is time to put tired elastics to rest and go for new.

Anyway I had a gift card for Victoria's Secret, where I happily purchased 10 pairs of new cotton underwear. Yup- I bought 10 pairs and used the whole gift card. But then I was at Target and started to think that I may need a few pairs that would fall under the "not cotton seamless" category. So I purchased these super sheer and stretchy underwear that would be suitable for certain kinds of outfits that require a more seamless look.

I took off all the tags to all 14 pairs of new undies and threw them in the laundry - washed, dried, the whole bit. Then came the folding of said laundry and the WILD LAUGHTER. You see, the new sheer underwear morphed into doll clothes while in the laundry. If you check out the picture below...that is a new pair of cotton Victoria's Secret (you know - normal underwear) and what became of the sheer and stretchy seamless panties I also bought.

The underwear shrunk to the point of ridiculous. I don't even think they make toddler underwear that small. I laughed so hard I cried and so did the husband. And then I threw them in the bottom of the laundry basket instead of in the trash. Why? Who knows.

I guess they ended up in my drawer during some kind of fit whereby I try to put everything away. Last week I pulled out a pair by mistake before getting into the shower. Without knowing which pair I had in my hand I put them on. And guess what- they stretch back out. They are like an amazing science experiment. I sort of feel like buying more.

moshed by association

when we were at the paradise the other night, the husband threatened to stage dive and then mosh through the crowd if there was an opening band. i told him that being "moshed by association" was really crappy and that he should really refrain from such activities. he laughed when i said "moshed by association" and then i told him this story:

high school flash-back *insert magic time machine dust here*

i was at a ducky boys show in western ma. (yes i understand that there is a lot wrong with that statement to begin with) the venue was some weird coffee house type of place with no stage and several sofas lined the walls. the crowd, while underwhelming in numbers, had several crust punk types, a group of skin-heads and myself and two friends (teenage girls from the burbs).

here is where i should mention that if my mom ever reads this she will say "i never never knew about this" and i will respond using the best 17 year old sarcasm i can muster, "of course you did! i totally told you that i was driving my friends out to springfield in a borrowed minivan to see a band play and hang out skin-heads" and she will the give me "the look" that she now reserves exclusively for my brothers and times when i say shit like that just to rile her up.

that night i was standing off to the side, next to one of the sofas during the band's set. my friend marianne was standing on the sofa next to me. suddenly, the skin-head dudes started using the whole venue to mosh it up and essentially beat the crap out of one another. this is when i was "moshed by association" and got pushed down on the sofa where i lay unable to move while a group of dudes in steel-toed boots moshed themselves all over my feet. eventually, marianne grabbed my arm and pulled me up to higher ground. had she not saved me i think that i would have been "moshed into oblivion" becasue those guys didn't care who they were moshing on. i remember having some seriously bruised and swollen ankles the next day.

10 or so years later i realize that i am lucky that i didn't get hurt in some way (beyond a few bruises). a woman i work with was moshed by association last summer and had to undergo knee surgery to fix a torn acl. i've seen the embarrassment creep over her face when she explains what happened to colleagues and board members. it's especially embarrassing because i know those people probably think it's called "monching".