Candy Crush / Bejeweled / Time Suck Guilt Juice

I have decided that playing my little phone game (I don't Candy Crush. I have no idea what Candy Crush is. I play Bejeweled. Alas, was there such a time suck?) is akin, to me, to drinking.

Instead of watching my beautiful child's development and how he's basically managed to twist around on his own (this shit is amazing), I played Bejeweled while in the same room as him. It occupies the same indulgent, sometimes guilt, space. And I don't have access to a whiskey sour. If I had a whiskey sour, I would probably be guilty of drinking while in the same room as my beautiful son, as he discovers the joy of cartoon owls.

I could also be using these Bejeweled moments to WRITE or to get decent at the ukulele or blog or call my mom. But my mom is asleep, my ukulele is thousands of miles away, and I WILL write some today, goddammit. I will also watch my beautiful child. And play some Bejeweled.

On my mind:
 - http://www.cracked.com/blog/6-harsh-truths-that-will-make-you-better-person/
 - http://thelastpsychiatrist.com/2012/11/hipsters_on_food_stamps.html

By the end of the year, I hope to take a hip hop dance class. It could be a repetition of two years ago's tap class, but.. NO MATTER!

Ah.. now my child has stuck his foot through the bars of the crib and appears stuck.

Onward.


  

Non-Obligatory Food Post: Salt and Lemon Juice

What I have learned over the last two years: many many things are improved with lemon juice and salt. You might have some fancy ingredient in said something (like tahini or fish sauce), but as long as you add lemon juice and salt, you might look like a genius.

*denotes fancy ingredient, which is often skippable. Take that.

Hummus!
 - Chickpeas
 - Lots of garlic
 - A little bit of tahini*
 - Lemon Juice!
 - Salt!

Potato Salad!
 - Boiled potatoes
 - Boiled eggs
 - Chopped up whatever else is in the refrigerator
 - Mayo
 - Mustard (Dijon*)
 - Raisins*
 - Pepper if you like
 - LEMON JUICE!
 - SALT!

Chicken
 - Chicken
 - LEMON JUICE!
 - SALT!

Zucchini* Carrot salad
 - Carrots
 - Zucchini*
 - Olive oil
 - LEMON JUICE!
 - SALT!

Eggplant/Asparagus/Brussel Sprouts*
 - Eggplant/Asparagus/Brussel Sprouts*
 - LEMON JUICE!
 - SALT!

Fish* .. like.. all fish
 - Fish*
 - LEMON JUICE!
 - SALT!

Pasta with butter

 - Pasta

 - Butter

 - LEMON JUICE!
 - SALT!

 - Parmesan cheese*

Eggs (I haven't tried it but why not!?)
 - Eggs
 - Butter
 - LEMON JUICE!
 - SALT! 

Your mom
 - Your mom
 - LEMON JUICE!
 - SALT!
(your mom = not fancy.)
(Now I feel bad. Your mom is lovely. Please call her.)

.. You see.

Excuse me, is this a food blog? 

The imaginary dinner party in my head proclaims things like, "Oh, how summery!" and "You cook so light!" and again, you will feel like a mad genius. This imaginary dinner party all are wearing hats,  mustaches, and bustles. 

I'm pretty sure it's all about the acid. And I'm pretty sure that this acid could be replaced with just about anything (white wine! vinegar! Win!), but lemon juice gets top billing for the pure food blogginess of it all. You're welcome.

Onward. 

Non-obligatory food post: Blau Milch

Back in 1996, for all the stupid reasons, I was studying abroad (hi-oooh) in East Berlin. In the winter. For all the stupid reasons. (Did I speak German? NO. Did I have any previous interest or knowledge in Germany except for being partially of German descent and I had watched "The World at War" in History class? NO. Sometimes it is better to jump into these things blind. And stupid.)

I lived with an incredibly cheap and angry hausfrau, her nice and removed husband, and her beautiful, PERFECT ENGLISH SPEAKING and racist daughter. This daughter introduced me to my one German friend: Arne. Arne was awesome, and we would go on adventures. And he took me to BlaumilchKanals.

I remember BlaumilchKanals because:

a) It's excellent name
b) I think it was the place that had the wall of Barbies in jars. Thank you, art scene of mid-90s Berlin.
c) It served Blau Milch!!!

Blau Milch (blue milk) is milk with blue berries and blueberry syrup mixed in it. And it was new and weird and delicious, and I felt badass next to the barbies. (90s!)

Tonight, I had Red White and Blau Milch.. Do you like milk? Do you like strawberries and cream? Do you like America (not this week, but the general concept when it sometimes works and isn't full of stupid)? Then you will like this!

 - Take berries (I used blueberries and strawberries). Throw them into your glass.
 - Sprinkle sugar on top. (If you are a super cuisine badass, you have already rolled your eyes at me, as you've cooked up a simple syrup on your stove top. In fact, you even added berries to your simple syrup. It's stupidly delicious. You've already put your simple berry syrup in your glass and are feeling superior. Good.)
 - Muddle the berries in the glass. (i.e. take the end of your potato masher and smash them for about a minute.)
 - Pour on the milk.
 - Drink. And then take a spoon to eat your berries with.

I am putting this picture here so you believe that this is a food blog. 

Delightful. And easy to boozify! (i.e. add some Baileys.)

Feeling the urge to blather about food more.. Onward!

Sapphire bullets..

Man, this kid.

Bullets of pure love. :)

No subtlety in sleep

In my dreams, I keep.. losing the baby. He's there, and pop! Baby gone. Without any build up or explanation. And the world just keeps moving. 

Last night, it was another losing the baby dream. He rolled into a lake, terrifying, but made much less terrifying that, once I looked around for him, it turns out he knows how to swim. (adorable little underwater swimming baby). 

My brain is an Advanced Placement English student, and here is my Advanced Placement English sentence: So rarely are my dreams that blatantly metaphorical. 

Super happy. Seeking normal.

Hey blogfriends.. I don't know if you're still out there.. but HELLOOOO.. :) 

***************

It's a strange thing. 

I tend speak about myself in the plural now, as "myself" is wrapped up and tightly knotted in someone else (who used to be, literally, wrapped up in me). 

We're sort of developing patterns (which will fall away to other patterns - - maybe), and I know when to feel anxious i.e. anytime the house is left and we're to be in a single place for more than 10 minutes. 

Sleep is a mystery: last night was a run of 4 (?!) hours, then 2ish, then 30 minutes, 30 minutes. This, by many standards, is luxurious. Two nights ago, sleep was very sparse and 3 p.m. hit me at semitruck speeds. 

But - - this isn't my normalnormal. My normalnormal is/was running around, working, teaching, playing with people, stopping by random donut shops - - and I could, by many many accounts, still do. 

But I can't. I want to breastfeed. I need to heal. He needs time to get bigger. 

One scheduled "event" on the calendar is intimidating. Kiddo's schedule isn't, and right now, maybe shouldn't be, one. We don't do much, but someone I don't have the time (or focus/concentration) to finish assignment, answer emails, do the things that signify normalnormal. We're awake at 5 a.m., and suddenly it's 7 p.m. and the day's going to sleep and we should too. And I'm so damned lucky to be able to have the flexibility to do that. 

Generally speaking, new dads get to head back to the trenches earlier than new moms (except for the moms who HAVE to head back to the trenches and good god, YOU ARE AMAZING.)  

For me, the trenches I miss are at a certain awesome improv theater located in the LynLake region, and I currently don't know if I'm even currently capable of staying up for a 8 p.m. show. Would that wreck me for the next day? I DON'T KNOW. 

(I also don't want improv or performing or normal to slip away or to become scary. Maybe it's good to let it become scary for a while?)

But - - it's what I'd like. That piece of the new normal. Others have accomplished it! It's not as scary as one thinks! I'm currently covered in breastmilk! And it's all talk until it actually happens. Here's to it. 

Onward. :)