Be quiet and drive (far away)

Yesterday my good friend Davy surprised me with tickets to a Deftones concert for my berfday. I have to say it was a blast and then some. They put on a righteous show and we were right up front, close enough to have sweat spewed on us from above and see the swell Casio Database that Mr. Moreno sported on his wrist.

So God bless you all
For the song you saved us
For the hearts you break, everytime you moan
And God bless you all on the earth.

The other exciting news is that I'm heading off to South Carolina for Thanksgiving with the relatives. It's gonna be a long drive squashed in our car with Justin, Rossi, Anita and Mustard but I'm sure worth it to see all my cousins and bestest friendses. So Happy Holidays to you. I'm sure I'll have tasty treatses for you when I returnses.


Throw down the groove..

I think I speak for most all women when I say that one of the most treasured experiences of newly made motherhood is the prospect of getting back into shape after nine months of slobbiness.

If you're like me, idealistic and ambitious, the first thought through your head when you hear the news that you've got a alien growing in your abdomen, is: "No freeloader will EVER get as excellent treatment as THIS little freeloader."

Massage! (the daily quest to think up ever new and inventive ways to con unsuspecting individuals into performing this service is a story unto itself)
Wheat germ! Spinach and assorted-health-foods-that-have-as-much-tastiness-as-a-sock!


The road to hell is paved with good intentions, my mama always told me -- though probably not in this context.
That wheat germ is still mostly full in the back of the fridge, the vitamins are lucky if I remember to eat them, and the exercise was shoved aside for the much more important task of Relaxing Naps. Hey, you can't cover ALL the bases.

Pre-belly I was in the habit of a vigorous workout as described (I wanted to add a humorous ps here about that post..see where I'm talking about having kids. Haha, I sure showed HER.) earlier with the effect of a rather pleasing 6 pack..of sorts. Observe:
Exhibit A

Post-belly I was lugging around a rather unwieldy keg:
Exhibit B

(Catch this latest craze from Finnish fashonistas! Holding your own breasts! Now you too can attain this stunning look, simply cup your hands over your chest and voila! a simple look that is guaranteed to turn heads.)

As a result, post-post-belly, I am left with a rather creaky and undisciplined amount of muscle and flesh to contend with.
Since our apartment complex boasts a gym, that sadly leaves me with no excuse.

Now here's the part where you all insert the appropriate and stimulating encouraging phrases such as:

You can DO it!
Good work!
Don't give up!

And in my dark moments of self-doubt when I am on the brink of ending it all (the exercise, that is) I will come back and read these softly written words of support and it will give me the strength I need to persevere to the glorious end!

Thank you Jesus!


The Longest Sitdown

I've found a little cranny.
My niche, if you will. It belongs to a coffeeshop. In a warm darkish spot where two walls of dark plank wood meet with a orangish glowing light chaperoning their union, I sit at the small square table facing the door -- desperado style. Mustard and I find ourselves here often to watch the tide of humanity seethe in and out. Their relatively indistinguishable collective buzzes warmly in this atmosphere of hipness and Javatopia.

I order a coffee and water. I get a watery coffee. Perfect.

Connect to the Internet. I have no emails and as a result, I believe, no friends...although a kindly "Katrina" has commented on my blog. Score.

Gangly waiter with pleasing look stalks past. Mustard wakes up and mews.

Mewling turns into all out snarling. I expose myself to the GP for the greater good of feeding my offspring.

SP: You're pathetic.
Liz: I agree.
SP: I'm cool.
Liz: You're right.

I consume a second cup of Cinnamon Hazelnut: A full-bodied blend with a touch of tenderness.

Mustard politely asks for me to, "Pass the breasticle."
He is a lovable baby leech.

Cell phone buzzes across the table.
"Hi. Liz? Just calling to wish you a happy birthday."
"Oh yea? Well it's not for another week, but thanks."
"Is that so? Oops, my bad."
"No problem. I don't blame you, it's not important."
"So uh..how are you?"
"Uh, great..real good."
"Yea, it is. Good, that is..it's good."
Long pause.
Deep breath.
"Okay well thanks for calling. I feel special."
"Oh yea! Sure, uh huh. okay I'll talk to you later then."
"Yup, for sho. Later there dude."
(HA! Bet you didn't know I was gonna add this here. You might have said something like, "I am extraordinarily cool and wonderful." Then, since it's in put down in writing, it would be true down through the annals of history. Maybe next time..)

A darkly, squat girl with a bob and leg warmers is setting up to play a musical set. I'm asked apologetically to move. I'm loathe to leave the saftely of my corner but tentatively venture outwards.

My new table feels like a stranger. And there's no warm light. It's also handicap accessible. Seems about right.

I'm on my third cup. Foggy Morning Brew: Guaranteed to clear your head on the foggiest of mornings.

Leg Warmers bursts into high-pitched, high-stepping song. What balls. The successive 30 minutes are spent in the company of her feminine angsty emotions as she melodically asks me to discover her "under layers" (is that poetic for underwear?), screams that I "move over and give her some room", and tells me that I'm the "best she's ever had (not to boast, but it's probably true), and now she needs me to "help her write the ending"
Well, here it is: Jesus took my whiny, conflicted heart and gave me sunshine all the livelong day.

And then she asks for 3 bucks.
Ha! I give you priceless pearls and that's the thanks I get. So long, girlie. See if I buy your CD or look you up on MySpace.
-- Speaking of that lair of Satan, I flatly refuse to frequent that perversion of webspace. 'Blogger is just as bad' you may argue but I say, these days one must pick their poison.

Yawn. Ooh! an email!!..I still feel rather angsty.

I feel I have just soaked in warm bath of sudsy love.

subject: a real tear-jerker

from: southpaw
to: liz

(composed by southpaw while liz was in the bathroom for the 5th time in an hour)
(liz: that's an exaggeration)

i love you
when your afraid
i love you
faster then a bullet
i love you
longer then a train
i love you
like something out of reach
i love you
and your meatloaf
i love you
twice as often as i say it

i love you
in languages i can't speak
i love you
when you don't love me
i love you
first last and middle
i love you
higher then a bird can fly
i love you
with words i can't spell
and never will know how to
I miss you when you leave
and love you when you stay
i love you
forever and a day

The feeling is slowly leaving my bottom due to poor circulation. Sigh. I think I've milked this experience for all it's worth.

Mustards' diaper is so full it's like a time bomb just waiting to explode, hehe -- a Mustard Bomb..get it? haha. Oh that's prize.

I finally have my fill and leave. 3 cups of coffee fuller and a plethora of visual stimuli under my belt. Till the next time I need to kill a couple hours, this has been fun. Goodnight.


Tsk tsk..

Too many shrink truth to fit the size of their minds.