Happy New Year!

This fantastic design was created by and stolen from Laurie,
of Leap Design, UpsideUp and Sk*rt. Cool huh?

May your 2008 be filled with family, friends, fun and blessings a go go!

Texas Bloggers Unite! (In Drink, Merriment, Drama and Queso)

(Not the actual logo.)

(Steal this logo)

11 a.m.

Jan. 12.

Find out more here.

Black Eyed New Year's Rockin' Peas

I wouldn't say we're traditional, but we firmly believe that some traditions are sacred. Case in point: the New Year's peas. So if you cook nothing else this year, you only have a few hours left to cook these.

The Peas Stand Alone

Black Eyed Peas
Water
Lean cooked ham (or, even better, bacon)
Onion
Worcestershire sauce
Red wine
Salt/Pepper

Soak 2 cups of Black Eyed Peas overnight in H20. (Or buy them pre-soaked from Whole Foods or whatever). Rinse off and put in large pot. Stir in at least 6 cups of H20, 1 cup diced/lean cooked ham (or bacon) (or bacon + bacon drippings, if you're feeling really crazy), 1 chopped onion, 1-3 Tbs Worcestershire sauce (and/or a generous glub of red wine!), 1/4 tsp salt, 1/8 tsp pepper. Cover, simmer for 2 hrs.

Then eat them for good luck, for goodness sake!

(Anyone have a better recipe? Because I haven't found one. And I can't imagine how you could.)

Merry Christmas

May your day be merry and bright.

From,
The Quesos

*This photo was stolen from my little sister's nourishing blog. A place where you can find a fab recipe for Figgy Pudding. Because we won't go until we get some.

Confession

Over Thanksgiving, my very smart and almost-professor brother-in-law (the only 27-year-old I know who smokes a pipe) and I talked a bit about books. Partially because he drew my name and gave me about 17 books, and partially because we both love them so.

And so we both agreed that there are moments when you are reading something, and you think that you almost can't believe the phrases before you exist because the words are so perfectly arranged. Moments that you almost jump out of your skin because you honestly can't fathom how someone wrote something so right. So exact. So perfect. And at the same time you can't believe that it hasn't been done before. Because it seems so obviously effortless.

That's what happened to me about four times as I was reading Atonement in 2001. Almost seven years ago, and I continue to remember the moments' specifics. I was in Dallas. In the lobby of an old house turned salon. Waiting. It was raining outside. I just had spilled coffee all over myself. And I read the most fantastic arrangement of letters that I had come across in years. Beautiful.

Right about that time, I got so excited about the writing, I started laughing out loud and could no longer concentrate on the story. I lost the meaning in the words. And it was fantastic.

Over the years, I never read the story again but recommended the book a hundred times. Because it held up as a standard of smart writing. So when the movie came out, I was a bit reticent to expose myself to someone else's visual interpretation of the words. Because, of course, that's tricky. And risky.

But last night we went. And what I found was the story that the words were too good to show. The deep-thinking sociology behind the presentation. The heat in England in the summer of 1935. The most fantastic one-shot interpretation of the Dunkirk evacuation and the many distinct reactions it created. The unexpected tragedy at the Balham tube station. Of course, the disturbing story was still there in full force. But this time, I understood a different part of it. Not the words that created it, but the setting that did. The time. The place. The prejudices. A period when passions were damned and brutalities were customary. A place where this juxtaposition didn't seem to occur to anyone.

It didn't occur to me when I read its extraordinary recount, perfectly presented. But I saw it. In high definition.

The absurdity of the wars we create.

Happy Birthday HcQ!

I can't decide if he's the best dad ever, or the best husband ever.
It would really be unfair to be both. Either way, I was really glad to go on a birthday date tonight with my best pal ever.
Happy Birthday, Husband con Queso!!!

Don We Now Our Gay Apparel.

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.

Mark Twain

I once read that Meg Ryan claimed she could best get into character if she was wearing the right shoes. Shoes her character would wear. Meaning, she could become the type of person who would wear the shoes she was wearing at the time. Get it?

I think I do.

Because, as I think I've mentioned before, I often put on the clothes that I need to fit into that day.

For instance, if it's a day packed with client meetings, I like to wear a sharp white button down. Not sure why, but it makes me feel like Nina Garcia. Or Paul Reubens. Depending on the meeting. Then, when I need to write all day, I need to wear squishy soft clothes that squish and bend and squish. Or something. And of course some days require multiple costume changes. To really get into character. And impress ex-boyfriends. And make very sure that your clothes reflect they exact type of person that you are.

Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe you become what you're wearing. In other words, if you change your clothes, you can change your life.

Maybe.

But the problem with this line of deep thinking seems to end up in the shallow end. Because of course, we are more than the fabric we wear. Our personalities can't actually be altered or shaped by something as silly as toggery. Or can they?

Case in point. Matthew.

Matthew is a friend of mine. An upstanding citizen, a wise scientist, a college professor, and a relatively harmless dude. Or so he was. Then. Being an upstanding citizen, he joined a mustaches for kids contest, where individuals grow mustaches to raise money for kids. I'm not sure exactly how that works, but it does, because they just raised some serious cash for Texas Children's Hospital.

But back to Matthew. It seems in growing this mustache, he also grew an odd counterpart and counterpoint personality. The bizarro Matthew. The kind of guy who puts the creep in creepy. The ash in trashy. The phlegm in phlegmatic. You know the type.

The type with the creepy mustache.

The type that wears Christmas sweaters. Everyday. For 15 days.The type that goes to the Quick Mart across the street from the bar and buys Nog.

And drinks it straight from the carton.

The type that jumps on the back of garbage trucks.And sleeps on the streets.That type. That guy. For real.

And then, let's just say, if that usually mildish-mannered guy wears the wrong thing for too long, he might stumble into an imeem studio and sing for the whole world wide Internetss. (Yes world, this is Matthew.)

It can happen. I've seen it.

So I agree with Meg Ryan. You can become the character whose shoes you wear. Or whose mustache and 1982 Christmas sweater you wear.

And I'm thinking you might just be a little more careful when you select your outfit today.

It could happen to you.

All photos stolen from Monica and Matthew's flickr pages.

'Tis The Season

I know. I know. I've been MIA. Well at least I have been at the Queso. But elsewhere I've been everywhere. Running from whatever to whatever. And thankfully, a number of other friendly bloggers have been around to document some of it. Like Gabby/Design Mom and Laurie, who came in town for a super fun visit last week. See? Here they are. (G, then L, then me)
And Jenny and Karen my favorite Chookooloonks who both came over Tuesday along with about 15 other pinks for a fab girls night at my place with Katherine Center. And no, I took no photos of any of it. Good thing Karen took a few, like both of these above.

For some reason, people who plan things cram-packed every holiday event I'll attend in a five-day period. Including a great happy hour, three work events, and the very hunky HcQ's company party. So fun.

In fact, SO fun that it has taken me a few days to recover. But I think I'm back. SO back in fact that I'll be posting everyday this week. I have a lot to share with you. And catch up on.

And, of course, I think we all know that you're just dying to know my thoughts on Christmas sweaters, mustaches, signature scents and reindeer cookies. And that just gets us to Wednesday.

See you tomorrow.

GcQ

Fa la la la la la la la la

Oh it's on. The house is finally well. The Hurricane is spending a few quality days at his grandparents. The Fed Ex Santa delivered my Christmas present. And Gabby and Laurie are coming in town. Whoohoo! A few days of serious fun. Starting tonight at a happy hour. Stop by. Or stay tuned.

Deck the Friggin Halls

If you know me even a little, you know I'm a Christmas Holiday freak. A Mele Kalikimaka. A ho ho ho. So when I noticed on the calendar that this year Thanksgiving landed on the earliest possible date it could ever be, I was super jazzed to have so much terrific tinsel time to the deck halls and fa la la la la.

And now I can say it's a darn good thing we have extra time to get have a holly jolly Christmas this year. Because, so far, we haven't been experiencing anything near comfort or joy.

And we had big plans for the weekend. Haul out the holly plans. Slice up the fruitcake plans. But sadly, we were puking. And not because of any fruitcake. We were home bound, not decorating anything that wasn't porcelain.

That's right, the boys are sick. Both. Of. Them. Sick.

One got sick. And then he got the other one sick. And while I'm great at trimming trees, I'm a fairly pathetic nurse.

So we all sat around and moaned a lot.

And I shopped a bit online. And found the best random holiday tidbits, happenings and goings on on sk*rt. Here are a few of my favorite finds:

1. 25 Days to Make a Difference. A ten-year-old girl and her mom vow to do something everyday in December to help others...like shoveling snow on Day 1 and recycling on Day 2. Check out their inspiration, their doings, and their quest. Very cool.

2. Buy Olympia. I love everything on there. Hear that family member who drew my name?! (See some samples on Cool Stuff today)

3. Design Mom in the NY Post. I love my friends. And I love it that people write about them in giant newspapers.

4. The Perfect Post awards. I haven't checked these out in a while. But this time I gave Jenny one for her Breaking Up w/ My Daycare post. Because I'm a giver. And I totally get what she's saying.

5. Green Vodka. Even vodka has gone green. Which just proves there really is no limit to what Al Gore can do. And you thought that Internet thing was something?

6. Top 100 Holiday Songs on iTunes. Wanting to make a Holiday mix? Well here are 100 tunes to get you going.

Hopefully some of that will make your days merry and bright. Because heaven knows at our place we need a little music, need a little laughter, need a little singing, ringing through the rafter, and we need a little snappy "Happy ever after." We need a little Christmas now.

What Does Project Runway 4 Make YOU Want to Do?

Well, thanks to said Project Runway 4, I've been Bitten with the urge to drive out to the burbs. (That's right. Far.)

See, the closest Steve & Barry's is at least 30 miles from my house. 30 miles. Of course, if it were four miles less, I'd walk it. But instead, I'm going to brave the elements, the traffic, and the giant limos filled with eight year olds going to JonBenet parties, and head out to the ginormall this weekend.
(You know. Just to see.)

Because did you guys see the PR episode last week?
(PR is now the official obsession of our PR department... See, they're the same abbreviation, but different. Get it? Get it?)

Well, guess what, I didn't. Because I was approximately 80,000 miles from any TV that would be broadcasting it. But I did see the repeat this evening, and now I need to see the winning SJP-chosen item in person.
(You know. Just to see.)

I'd also like to see where I can find the shoes that Mrs. Broderick is wearing in this article photo. (And I'm thinking not Steve & Barry's. Just a guess.)

More importantly...and back to topic...are you loving what you're seeing on PR4? Subquestion: Are you also inspired to drive long distances to see what this whole Steve & Barry's thing is all about? Sub-subquestion: Is there anything worth driving 30 miles into traffic to see?
(Not just at Steve & Barry's...but in the world.)

Turkey Hangover

In about six hours I have to board a plane for a business trip, while I'm completely hungover from days of turkey feasting, family greeting, and major traveling.

Oh, and Christmas.

We had our only Thanksgiving and first Christmas of the year last weekend. And I must say, there's nothing like kicking off the Christmas season with, um, Christmas. Full tree. Trimmings. Stockings hung. Names drawn. Gifts opened. Crackers popped. Champagne gargled. And a partridge in a pear tree.

It actually completely put me in the spirit for the next four weeks.

The Hurricane is pretty jazzed too. Plus, the very cool tricycle under the tree got him to thinking that this multiple holiday gig just might be okay.

More photos soon. But know, he's quite content with the fact that he has three more trees to attack before Boxing Day.

God help us every one.

Happy Thanksgiving from the Queso!

Happy Thanksgetting at Sk*rt

I can't believe Thanksgiving week is already here! Oh, and also Christmas week for us. I'm up to my eyeballs in turkey and tinsel. And sk*rt is giving stuff away.

Giveaway #1 – Two year-long subscriptions to Cooking Light magazine. Just leave a comment on this sk*rt Thanksgetting Givewaway post and you're registered to win!

Giveaway #2 – Three signed copies of The New InterCourses, an aphrodisiac cookbook, by Martha Hopkins and Randall Lockridge. Just leave a comment on this sk*rt Thanksgetting Givewaway post and you're registered to win!

Giveaway #3 – Set of 20 holiday cards from Your Every Whim. Just leave a comment on this sk*rt Thanksgetting Givewaway post and you're registered to win!



Giveaway #4 –A personalized Grande Baby Coin from Julian & Co. Just leave a comment on this sk*rt Thanksgetting Giveaway post and you're registered to win!

Fun.

Happy Thanksgetting!

Mixing it Up.

Every year I make a little mixed company mixed tape for Thanksgiving. The Padrino does too, of course. But let's face it, mine's usually better. However, this year, because I'm still without computer and mainly working on a laptop that only runs Linux (which, when translated, means I'm seriously missing my iWorld), I've fallen a bit behind. In other words, I've made five mixed tapes...which haven't yet been narrowed down to one Thanksgiving iMix.

And since everything is all backwards this year anyway, because Thanksgiving falls early and we're having Christmas on Friday following Thanksgiving on Thursday, which comes before New Years on Saturday and Easter on Sunday. (Alright well maybe not Easter. But we'll hit all the others.) It looks like I'll be getting you my iThanksgiving mix next week. But until then, here are a few previews to be on the lookout for...




Irving.









The Cribs.







The Orange Lights.









Film School.






You won't be disappointed.

Go Dynamo!

Sweet.

Dressing Up (with my great grandmother's traditional cornbread dressing recipe)

By popular demand, I give you my great-grandmother's traditional Texas cornbread dressing recipe. Only there's not really a recipe for it. It's just something that every female in my family magically knows how to make....not because we pick it up in utero or anything like that, it's more just because it's just so darn easy. Easy and inexpensive. At least that is the case today. Perhaps it wasn't so when my GGM made it all from scratch, but today's modern version has a lot of inexpensive short cuts that make it oh so easy, just as good as (if not better than) the all-from-scratch version, and less than $3 to make a batch. Seriously. Fast food is more expensive. Plus, people always RAVE. In fact, serving a pan of this is an almost foolproof way to make people think you're awesome. My GGM was really smart.

Grandma Allen's Cornbread Dressing
with Modern Simplifications

1 box cornbread mix
(and whatever your mix calls for: usually eggs and milk)
About 22-26 oz of heated chicken broth
About a half of a sweet onion, chopped
salt and pepper to taste

Make the cornbread mix. Follow baking directions, etc. Once you have created cornbread, take it out of the pan, put it in a large bowl, cut it up into small pieces or just mash it up with a potato masher or something. Add the onions to that. Move over to the stove top, put the chicken broth in a pot and bring it to a boil. Then pour the hot chicken broth into the cornbread mashup. Then add salt and pepper to your liking. I do less salt (because the broth is plenty salty for me) and more pepper (because I like it). But you do what works for you. The cornbread/broth mix should be pretty soupy. That's how it should be. Pour the mix into a baking pan and bake it uncovered at 350 for about 45 minutes. At this point, it should be perfect, your house will smell great, and everyone will think you're fab. Enjoy it while it lasts! And Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm Feeling Daring.

I have 18 meetings to attend today. Okay, so maybe not quite that many. But it feels like it.

I'm wearing a gray suit for heaven's sake.

So while you're out playing in the happy autumn air, frolicking about while you smell the roses and seize the day, I'm in a conference room. Wearing a gray suit. Did I mention the suit already? Oh sorry. It's just that these florescent lights are making my brain shrink.

But if my brain was still large because I was outside, I would be practicing the five karate moves I just learned yesterday. Or the fourteen games of tag. Or perhaps I'd even be doing a back walk-over. Yeah, that's right. You heard me. A walkover. But backwards. Because I just read The Daring Book for Girls. And it's fantastic. And we're giving one away over at Cool Stuff. (Plus, I also found some crocheted eggs, so there's that too.)

However, in the meantime, I'll be inside. Wearing gray. Secretly making the coolest paper airplane ever. Because that's covered on page 134, and I'm feeling rather daring.

Bookish.

I spent the better part of 1998-1999 with my face buried in books. Hundreds and hundreds of them. I could ramble on and on as to why this happened to be the case, but the bottom line is, I currently have loads of very full bookshelves.

During the early 2000s (now, how exactly are we saying that? The early aughts? Early 20 hundreds? Early double zeros? It all sounds weird.) the reading tapered off just a bit, and then when The Hurricane hit our house...well, I almost gave up the books completely, went online, and got sucked into the blogtastic vortex of blogginess. But then my computer exploded. And then this weekend, I read a 638 page book in less than 46 hours.

It all started innocently enough on Friday night. I pulled out this one book by Susan Howatch that I'd been meaning to read for, I don't know, forever, and I started reading...

And I just finished the last page.

Because for some odd reason, I just couldn't put the blasted thing down. I read while I cooked lunch. I read while I walked. While I played soccer and "watched" Elmo with The Hurricane. While I did lunges in the kitchen while making dinner (yeah, you read that right). In fact, besides going in the back yard and for a walk, I didn't leave the house all weekend (oh, yeah, except for the playoff game...go Dynamo!). Just puttered around. And read like it was 1999.

It was incredible. Not so much the book, but just the block of time to lose myself in the reading. I can't even believe it happened. And I'm not sure when it will again. Of course, I have way too many things going on to even begin to think about doing nothing. But reading. And of course, it was incredibly irresponsible of me to be so selfishly book-absorbed for two days straight. But wow, was it fun. I'm thinking of planning to do that again before 2015. Like maybe again next weekend.

Or not. Because I just realized that next weekend I'll be getting ready for Christmas. See, while the big X-Mas may be only 43 days away for you people, it's only 13 days away for us. Don't even ask. So it seems that I'm already in full-fledged Holiday mode (as you will be on Dec. 12), and so I've decided we're celebrating with lots of Holiday inspirations of Cool Stuff from now until your Christmas. Plus, a giveaway today. Happy Monday.

Grocery Store Drama

This morning I went to the grocery store closest to my house to get a few items to make something for lunch. Because I work somewhere where sometimes people all bring gourmet items for lunch and pool resources. Don't ask. I usually bring the drinks. But today I was making one of the few excellent items I can throw together (watch for Friday's recipe) which is what brought me to the store at the dawn of crack. And as I was walking across the tiny parking lot a man and his wife were doing the same. And then he swung back and hit her. Backhanded slapped her. Across the face. In front of God and everyone. And she just took it, and kept walking.

I stopped.

I couldn't move forward, and I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. A man in struck a woman right in front of me, and I was shocked still. I didn't know what to do. So I did nothing. Nothing. I'm still reeling a bit from it, so I can't imagine how much she's reeling. Even if she's used to that. You never get used to that.

Happy Halloween!

May your day be filled with giant spiders.

And cookies as big as your face.

Shots Are For Espresso.

Or bachelor parties. Or gun shows. They aren't however for mothers who are confused by the hype.

And I currently fall into that last category.

I'm talking about boosters here. And not the seat kind. The annual kind. The scary kind. The lifesaving kind. The kind that may contribute to autism. The kind that former MTV game-show hosts now talk about on Oprah.

That kind.

Although frankly, for me to say I'm confused about this topic is probably taking it a bit too far. I'm actually not confused as much as I'm just too damned subconsciously anxious about the possible unknowing, speculated potential, and potentially related or unrelated ramifications to just even deal. In other words, like a lab rat, I'm in unfamiliar territory, so I'm not moving.

All that said, I should know a lot about this topic. Once upon a time in a lifetime far far away, it was basically my job to know this. To communicate it to many. To go on and on and on about the importance of...no, the essential need for... immunizations. In fact, for almost a year I did everything but bribe politicians to get the word out about the need for kids to get shots. Shots. Shots. And a few more shots for luck. That was my job. See, I worked for a really swell non-for-profit organization that educated immigrants about the importance of childhood immunizations. Oh, the importance.

Back then, I knew every reason children should be vaccinated. And I could (and frankly, still can) spout off the many essential benefits of the shot. Shots.

But that was 10 years ago. I was 26. And I knew as much about children then, as I know about Quantitative and Computational Finance now. And you should know, that's less than nothing. More importantly and more honestly, I knew much less about what it was like to be a parent then than I will ever know about any graduate-level mathematics. Or even middle school mathematics for that matter.

I knew nothing. Which is too bad, because if it's true that the first rule of communication is to know your audience, I really should have shut the hell up.

Because as well intended as I was...me Ms. Let-me-tell-you-what-to-do here, it's easy, no biggy, just get the shots...well, I just knew what I knew. And that wasn't everything.

For instance, I didn't know about the whole immunization controversy. Hell, back then, no one knew there would be such a thing. And I sure didn't know what it would feel like to consider that possibility as the parent of a little boy. Because I still don't know what I think about all of it. I don't even feel confident in my ability to explain my confusion and discomfort to a physician with whom The Hurricane has an appointment tomorrow. For a two-year-old check up. And for shots.

So I'm canceling.

Canceling tomorrow's appointment. Not avoiding forever. Just postponing for now. Until I feel like I know more. And more importantly, until I can whole-heartedly understand and explain my discomfort zone well enough to find a comfortable resolution.

And so, instead of going to the doctor on schedule, we're going to the park. At least for now. For tomorrow.

What's the Deal with Veggies in Brownies?

You might have heard a little bit about this book. Deceptively Delicious by Jessica Seinfeld. There's been some buzz on the Internet, and on, oh, Oprah (plus a little controversy, which always spices everything up a bit.)

But the book has a smart concept and a cool design. Those are my two biggies. So I reviewed it today (and I'm giving one away to a commenter) on Cool Stuff.

Plus, the woman has created a Mac and Cheese recipe that includes our ghordtastic friend the butternut squash. Check it.

Jessica Seinfeld's Macaroni & Cheese
(with butternut squash)

1 1/2 cups elbow macaroni
Nonstick cooking spray
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
1/2 cup nonfat (skim) milk
1/2 cup butternut or cauliflower puree
1 1/2 cups shredded reduced-fat Cheddar cheese (about 8 oz.)
4 oz. (almost 1/4 cup) reduced-fat or nonfat cream cheese
1/2 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. paprika
1/8 tsp. pepper

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, add the macaroni and cook according to package directions until al dente. Drain in a colander.

While the macaroni is cooking, coat a large saucepan with cooking spray and heat over medium heat. Add the oil, then the flour, and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture resembles a thick paste but has not browned, 1 to 2 minutes.

Add the milk and cook, stirring every now and then, until the mixture begins to thicken, 3 to 4 minutes. Add the vegetable puree, Cheddar, cream cheese and seasonings and stir until the cheese is melted and the sauce is smooth. Stir in the macaroni and serve warm. Enjoy.

And don't forget to leave a comment on Cool Stuff. To maybe win and all. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Wondering Why I've Been Posting A Little Less Lately?

Well, for starters, this is my computer.

The one that, before it looked like this, was the computer I used to post things on. The one I started this blog with. The one I wrote many sentences in that ended with prepositions before. That one. That computer. That laptop.

And now that laptop is on our kitchen island.

In 47 pieces.

So the posting. It will of course continue. Only in pieces.

But. In a way, maybe that will actually be better. You know. Stolen moments on random laptops. That could spice it up a bit. In fact, that sounds kinda hot.

Or not.

I'll Drink To That.

A few years ago, I helped some very creative friends give another pal an amazing baby shower. Really amazing. One of those that started with the coolest invitation I've ever seen, and ended with award-show-swag-bag-worthy party favors.

I was in charge of beverages. Only. That's it. Easy. Brainless.

But then some smart creative person thought that it would be a good idea--no an ESSENTIAL element--to make "drink tags" that thematically featured a variety of "motherhood" quotes. Quotes like this...

"Making the decision to have a child -- it's momentous.

It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."

--Elizabeth Stone

This was a crowd favorite. The kind of words that when placed together bring out the "aaaahhhs" in everyone. Well, almost everyone.

Not so much me.

Because, frankly, I thought that was the most horridly awful thing I'd read in a while. And I said as much to the group as we were "tying one on" in the less-fun literal way of actually tying these things on to the party glasses.

Then they collectively agreed that I was a robot.

And I collectively decided they were sappy crazy.

I mean, obviously that's a disturbing quote. First of all, it's SO VERY dramatic. And so, I don't know, icky. I mean, how is a disected organ walking around the city in any way sweet, or cute, or aawwhhh-inspiring? I didn't get it.

And I was pregnant at the time. But whatever. I knew I wouldn't be one of those sappy mothers whose internal organs were walking around town wearing ducky and bunny outfits to cozy playgroup teaparties of scrapbooking smocking storytime gatherings. Or something. Really I had no idea. But I'd never been that um, I don't know, sappy and I'd definitely never wanted my heart outside of my body. Not for one second.

And after many many millions of seconds had passed and my son was nearing two, I realized that we hadn't had an organ separation of any kind. Although, don't get me wrong, we've had our moments.

Moments like when the Hurricane and I spent our last few minutes together, just the two of us, in the hospital and I swore to him through intense tears that we'd go on many many adventures together. Or the moments before I went back to work when I swore to him I'd be home in a few hours. And on and on and on. Moments. Profound lifechanging moments. We've got hundreds of them.

And my heart was with him every single second. But it was still mine. It was still in my body. I continued to function. Beat by beat by beat.

And then I went to New York for a few days last week. Not by any means my first trip away. More like my 31st trip away. But something different happend. I experienced something new.

It all started in the plane as I was reading Vanity Fair's feature on Eric Clapton. Know the story? About his son? Well, for some reason, I didn't. And I was surprised by the ending. The horrible horrible ending. And I took that whole "tears in heaven" thing to a whole new level with an honest-to-goodness, whole-hearted "ugly cry" in my first class seat (thanks again to the hard-earned miles/upgrade from my hero the HcQ). This is extremely unusual for me because truth be told, unlike Duckie, I'm not a cryer. But all of a sudden, I was. A big fat cryer. Throughout the day and across the city. Ugly crying at City Bakery. In Scoop. At the end of the first act of Wicked. And later in the street. And even later at Spice Market.

Yes. I did.

Because all of a sudden, I got it. The heart outside of your body thing. And I experienced it. Through the story of a huge rock star, I felt just a twinge of what it would feel like to lose my heart forever. And I got it.

I got the quote.

Between the tears in Soho, I tried to explain this to my dear friend whom I was traveling with, a mother of three boys herself. And she of course understood what I was talking about much more completely than I did. After all, I was just starting to feel this out. She'd been there for many years and told me as much. And she told me I wasn't the only one. And this helped me stop crying. Because for some reason and for a minute, I thought I was the only one. Someone having a psychic moment. Or a complete breakdown. But she knew better. She knew I was just being a mom. And she sweetly gave me a hug. And reassured me. And raised her mojito to toast the heart of motherhood, and the love outside of our control, and the souls that we get to treasure along the way.

So here's to the hearts outside of our bodies.

And here's to us.

Cheers.

Grounded.

Some say you are always learning. And over the weekend I've learned that free wifi in New York City is like a diamond-encrusted 24K gold Rolls-Royce. Only maybe those are easier to find around here.

At least that's what I thought until early this morning.

I was aimlessly wandering around hoping desperately to find a Starbucks, (which in theory are everywhere except when you're looking for wifi. Then, they're like Sasquatch.) when I stumbled upon the most beautiful, fantastic little organic coffee & tea house.

Grounded.

And honestly, it's true. As I type this now, I'm feeling the most grounded I've felt in a while. I'm in the back corner of a beautifully lit spot on Jane Street, surrounded by inspired photography, books and a few seasonal pumpkins. They're playing Elliot Smith and John Lennon and Ambulance Ltd, and I'm feeling incredibly blessed to have found this tiny space in the world.

I have so much to say about my short trip here. So many new discoveries to share. A few short days away with good friends always gives me some serious shot-in-the-arm perspective.

So thanks for letting me take a little break to settle a bit. Just a bit. And to sort. And get things a little more organized on my end. I'm not there yet, but I'm moving in a very good direction.

For starters, some pretty exciting things are about to happen around here at the Queso. I'm honestly not sure exactly what format this is going to take, but I know at least my banner will be back and fixed and reliably more consistent (by the way, do you see the banner? Some do, some don't. I do depending on the hour. To be honest, it's a pretty good reflection and manifestation of how my brain is working these days.) But back to the excitement. I'll keep you posted.

There is much to come.

Sk*rt is Celebrating Independent Artists By Giving Tons of Cool Designs Away. For Reals.

Maker Faire Austin is happening this week, and we at sk*rt are kicking it up a notch and celebrating some of our favorite independent makers and do-it-yourself-ers!!!

Because, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, there are some pretty amazing artists, makers, designers, crafters, chefs, and creative geniuses who hang around there and sometimes even show off their stuff at sk*rt. And we LOVE it!

In fact, we’ve all found some of the coolest independent designers through sk*rt, and we want to make sure you don’t miss them! So we’re going to take this week and this opportunity to highlight them, celebrate them, and give them a little extra love. And in turn, they want to give you a chance to win some of their amazing makes.

That’s right, we’re talking a major SK*RT/MAKER FAIRE GIVEAWAY, people.

Here’s how it will work. We’ll be posting everyday between Monday, October 15 and Sunday, October 21 about the different featured independent makers and what they’ll be adding to the SK*RT/MAKER FAIRE GIVEAWAY! Each day we’ll let you know about new items being added to prize packages. Honestly, the prize packages are so huge, we have to ease you into them. So we’ll let you know one or two items at a time. Because they’re that awesome! And so are the fantastic sk*rt makers behind them.

All you have to do to enter the GIANT SK*RT/MAKER FAIRE GIVEAWAY is to LEAVE A COMMENT on ANY of the sk*rt entries tagged “Maker Faire”….like for instance, any one like this one… The more comments you leave on different “Maker Faire” entry items, the more you’re entered. Cool huh?

You can read more about it and all the featured artists here on the sk*rt blog.

We can’t wait to introduce you (or reintroduce you) to some amazing independent artists and makers. After all, that’s what sk*rt (and Maker Faire Austin!) is all about!

Happy Sk*rt/Maker Faire Week everyone!

Gourd-O

Maybe it's because I've been walking more. Or maybe it's because the weather's starting to change. But I've been so hungry lately for fallish food. In fact, the new issue of Food&Wine has gotten me completely in the mood (and ready to eat) this autumnal season. So to start the week with love, I thought I'd share one of my favorites from Food&Wine.

Butternut Squash Soup with Crisp Pancetta

• 4 medium butternut squash (6 pounds)
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 8 pieces
• Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
• 12 very thin slices of pancetta (3 ounces)
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
• 1 large Spanish onion, chopped
• 6 thyme sprigs
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 quarts chicken stock or low-sodium broth
• 2 tablespoons heavy cream
• Sugar (optional)
  

1. 

   Preheat the oven to 400°. Halve the squash lengthwise and scoop out the seeds. Set the squash on a rimmed baking sheet, cut sides up. Put a piece of butter in each cavity and season generously with salt and pepper. Drape the squash halves with the pancetta slices. Roast the squash for 45 to 50 minutes, or until tender.
2. Transfer the pancetta to paper towels to drain. Crumble and set aside. Scoop the squash out of the skins into a bowl.
3. In a large, heavy stockpot, heat the 2 tablespoons of olive oil until shimmering. Add the onion, season with salt and pepper and cook over moderately high heat, stirring, until softened but not browned, about 6 minutes. Add 3 of the thyme sprigs and the bay leaf. Stir in the squash and the stock and bring to a boil over high heat, stirring frequently. Reduce the heat and simmer the soup for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4. Pick out and discard the thyme sprigs and bay leaf. Working in batches, transfer the soup to a blender or food processor and puree until thick and creamy-smooth, about 1 minute per batch. Transfer the soup to a clean saucepan. Stir in the heavy cream and season with salt and pepper (and sugar if desired).
5. Reheat the soup if necessary. Ladle into 12 bowls. Garnish the soup with the pancetta, the leaves from the remaining 3 thyme sprigs and a drizzle of olive oil.

MAKE AHEAD The soup and roasted pancetta can be refrigerated for up to 2 days. Reheat the soup and recrisp the pancetta before serving; the soup may need to be thinned with stock or water.

Happy Monday. Happy October.

Documentation.

I was always one of those kids who was relatively self aware. I could see the writing on the wall. Plus, I was around adults enough to catch phrases and ideas on how they knew so much more than they did years before. About some things. So even at a young middle-schoolish age, I realized on some level that the cares that I thought about, those that I worried about, and those that completely consumed me, would be things that I'd look back on and be completely mortified about.

That's why I never journaled. Ever.

As much as I loved to write about the fictional pretend, I would never write about the real. It was too mundane. And self-involved. And silly. Because even as I was experiencing the 1984 present, I knew that as real, and exciting, and painful, and wonderful as things were to me at the time, they'd be painful to read later.

But I was wrong.

Now I wish I had the accounts. Because as silly as they may seem, they are my memories. Only they aren't, because I've forgotten them.

So that is another reason I'm thrilled to have this practice in my life. This practice of journaling. And even as I'm typing this and wondering why I spend the time doing it in a public space, the answer occurs to me. It's obvious.

Because it's the only way I'll do it.

I'm one of those people that needs a workout partner, or a trainer, or a scheduled class. For accountability. Because I won't just do it on my own. I have to have a system or a pal or a class I've already paid for to get the job done or the work out.

It's the same with getting the words out. Or the photos.

The most excellent thing about this medium though is that others do it too. So I can know what my dear friends are doing. To see their daughters grow. What they're doing for others. What they're doing in the middle of the night. To know their driving habits. Know if George Clooney is in their neighborhood. Hear that Barack Obama is stalking them. Whatever. I can keep up with the documentation of their lives. And I can even keep up with mine through theirs.

Like last Friday. Without Karen's post and the above stolen photo, a few years from now, I might forget that when we met for some seriously fantastic shrimp with candied walnuts (tossed in a creamy lemon sauce with honeydew melon) on Friday, we were both wearing the same Earth Superhero Necklace. She has several because she's a model. I have one because I won it last month on OMSH after helping rename her mom's fantastic company. See I might have forgotten that. And I for sure would have forgotten, as we laughed and potentially scared our waiter who was meandering through his first day, that we sat next to a very elderly man and his hooker. For reals y'all. And that we saw and talked to another woman wearing a Superhero necklace, who is a reported "huge" scrapbooker. And that we drooled over the autumnal clothes in the window next door. I would have forgotten.

Then Saturday, the Hurricane discovered the joys of the "overblown" giant jump-a-thon birthday party.And there's Jenny documentation to prove it. Also, the fearless Min has inspired Harry to be a Pirate. For Halloween. But also for a living. So now we'll always remember the origin of that decision.

And then, well the whole weekend was documented by a variety of people.

But most importantly, I'll archive right here that the infamous Super Zoe called me very early on Saturday morning with news. She's officially off the market people. She is engaged. And Law Boy is one lucky dude. Although based on his comments, it seems he already knows it. It's documented.

The Longest Happy Hour Ever.

So Friday around four I was looking forward to an open empty weekend when I got an email from Gwen Bell, a fantastic sk*rty sk*rt whom I met in July in Chicago. She said she was going to be in town for a Startup Weekend and that they were kicking it off in an hour at a happy hour, which just so happened to be taking place in a pub across the street from my office.

Sprawling city of 3 million, and they were literally right across the street. Go figure. And go I went.

I thought I'd pop in, stay for a tiny bit, go home, get on with my life. But what I walked into was not what I expected. Because I walked into a business meeting. A three day business meeting.

It's a long story, but to get free beer, you had to pitch a business idea. I pitched. And they voted for my idea. So I spent the weekend meeting some truly talented, fascinating people.

This bloggity blog blog world takes you places you never expected. Places like business meetings. Really fun ones. No, really.

How I Spent My Weekend.*
(From the Eschipul Flickr File.)

Even the Hurricane Showed Up.

(From the Gwen Bell Flickr File.)

I didn't really stay for the whole thing, but enough to get really excited about the product.

Lots of people talked about it.

Someone even wrote a song about it. (And it's true, there was plenty of yoga.)

It was completely bizarre and really cool.

I have to say, if they are holding a Startup Weekend in a city (or pub) near you, you should give some serious thought about showing up. At least for the free beer.

*Oh, also, I got bangs. But that's an entirely different post.

Just a Tip.

If you eat too many cake donuts...

then you will feel like this...


Trust me on this one.

I know.

Let's Face It, Facebook. We Need To Take A Break.

I've been thinking about it. And as it turns out, I need some space. A break. Yes. A break from you, Facebook. For real this time.

And yes, of course it's you.

You're just too damn demanding. And this isn't just coming up out of nowhere...we've talked about this.

Well. For starters, you make plans without consulting me, you want me to introduce you to all of my friends, then you want to know what I'm doing every single second of the day, and I get nothing in return. Nothing. You know it's true. You just expect me to always be there for you, whenever, however, forever. To meet request after request after request after request.

Always!

I mean just tonight I stop in just to hang out for a while, no big deal, low key, and out of nowhere, Bam! you greet me at the door with:

• 2 event invitations
• 2 group invitations
• 4 superpoke friend requests
• 1 what are you wearing invitation
• 7 top friend requests
• 2 tv show trivia invitations
• 2 my questions friend requests.
• 3 likeness quiz requests
• 2 wall post requests
• 8 zombie invitations (What the hell?)
• 1 warewolf invitation (Who are these people?)
• 3 vampire invitations (Um. no.)
• 1 X me friend request (Um. double no.)
• 3 human pets invitation (This is wrong on so many levels)
• 3 cause invitations
• 1 fortune friend request
• 1 mood invitation
• 1 you're hot request (Okay, that one wasn't so bad.)

Hello! I have a job and a family and a life. And I'm just not sure I can live up to your standards.

Face it. We both know I can't give you what you need. Not now. Maybe not ever.

(Plus, on top of that, you scare me. You're reckless. Now I hear you're hacking off the La Leche League and the League of Maternal Justice. And you really shouldn't do that. They'll cut you.)

So I'm out. You keep your billions and don't call me again.

(And if you, dear reader, join the International Leagues in being hacked off about the whole lactation brouhaha, go here and see what these people are doing.)

(Oh, and if you have no idea what I'm talking about, consider yourself lucky. And warned. Run.)

Did I Mention That I've Lost My Mind?

I think I've mentioned that Karen and I are training for next January's Houston Marathon. To walk it. That's right, to purposefully walk it. Because, as I'm positive I've said before, if I run it, I'll still be walking it. So we're being deliberate about the walking from the start. Smart huh?

But maybe not so smart because get this, even with the walking-not-running, we are forced to train. Train! Because that's what responsible adults do when they lose their minds and walk 42.195 kilometers (or 26.2 miles). I believe she is doing better than I am, but I think it's fair to say we both have a long road ahead of us. Figuratively and literally. My current biggest problem with this training is finding time to do it before the Hurricane is awake or after he's asleep. It's a bit limiting, honestly.

However, even though I haven't yet figured out my schedule, I have decided what I'm going to wear. Priorities. Check out my accessory of choice over at Cool Stuff. Plus I give you a little heads up on a giant athletic shoe giveaway. 50 pairs a day between now and October 25. (See, I know about this kind of stuff now because I'm training for a marathon. Which, when translated, means I'm crazy. But still, you should visit the site and register to win some shoes because hello, we're talking shoes here people. )

And have a fantastically restful weekend; think of me walking to Egypt; and while you're at it, consider staging an intervention. Please.

And So It Has Come To This

“Be yourself no matter what they say.” - Sting.

Once upon a land, in a time far far away, I said I’d never come home in the middle of the day to change clothes midstream for different audiences. Because, first of all, who has the time? And seriously, am I that vain, pathetic and shallow? I think we can definitively say the answer to that question is now ‘yes’.

I am.

In days of old, I would always get ready for work in the morning. Business casual. Business formal. Business casually formal. Whatever. I could start with a genre and then shed a coat, change accessories, details, etc. and viola newish outfit that still worked. I had it down. From morning corporate meeting to evening gala with a cocktail party tracer. Just one basic outfit with a few twists and turns in the day. No problem.

But that was then.

Now, I’ve discovered that my genres, my directions and my appointments are too varied and competing and clashing. My morning pre-school class coffee outfit can’t be conformed into my client’s-client’s afternoon meeting. Throw in a lunch with a toddler and a business meeting with an ex-boyfriend, and we’re completely out of whack. Whacked. Which is no good without the crack. So. I went home. And changed.

Three times.

In one day, I changed clothes three times. Who am I? Cher? Or any of those other chicks who only need one name but need seven different outfits in one evening. Yes.

I am like them.

So you can see why I really needed The Little Black Book of Style by Nina Garcia. Which is now officially my favorite book evaah.

"The little black book (which is literally a smallish black book) is itself as stylish as anything else on my bookshelf. So much so, I think it’s starting its own clique that the Jane Greens, Sophie Kinsellas and Candace Bushnells would all gladly give up their dust jackets to get in (while the Sylvia Plaths and Virginia Woolfs are scowling in the corner, Anne Lamott is just annoyed it doesn’t have a chapter on Northern California, and Ayn Rand thinks I’m an idiot.)"

Go to Cool Stuff to read more. Seriously. You won’t be disappointed. (Plus, there's a giveaway.)

“Confidence is captivating, it is powerful, and it does not fade—and that is endlessly more interesting than beauty.”
- Nina Garcia

And the Winner Is....

Instead of watching the Emmy's last night, I drove a few miles from my parent's place to the ACL Fest to pick up the HcQ (that's the husband con queso in case you forgot) after the Wilco concert. And what should have taken hardly any time ended up taking approximately 78,000 hours. Therefore, I missed most of the Emmy's. Lucky for us, the ScQ (sister con queso) came over to my parents to watch the show with me, and here are her takes on the real winners of the evening....

Presenters I’d Most Like to Have Drinks With: Tina Fey and Julia Louis Dreyfus

Presenter That Made You Think: “Why was Seacrest Host?”: Ellen DeGeneres

Best Emmy Mom: Katherine Heigl’s mother

Best Old School/New School Collision: Tony Bennett and Christina Aguilera duet

Best Geek Chic: Rainn Wilson

Best Interruption of the Get off the Stage Music: Tony Bennett

Best Just Had a Baby Boobs: Marcia Cross

Most Predictable Girl Power Moment: Glen Close, Kyra Sedgwick, Mary Louise Parker presentation

Most Well Preserved: Tie…Sally Field and Helen Mirren

Presenters I’d Most Like to Have as Neighbors: Steven Cobert and Jon Stewart

Biggest Rip Off: James Gandolfini didn’t win for dramatic actor

Best Comment on America: Helen Mirren, “You Americans and very generous people. You are other things as well. Some good, some bad. But you are generous.”

Most Needless Rant: Some guy got up, I didn’t catch his name, but he got up and started yelling at TV producers. It was self-important, maybe slightly true, but mostly ranty and loud. When millionaires rant how they’re mistreated, it’s just stupid.

Weirdest Win: Tony Bennett beat out Steven Colbert, Jon Stewart, Dave Letterman and Ellen DeGeneres for an award. Weird. But he gave a nice acceptance speech.

Weirdest Outfit: Seacrest. In a strange Shakespeare outfit. Someone said he looked like a medieval pimp. And he did.

Weirdest Bleep Moment: Sally Field. She got bleeped because she said there would be no war if mothers ruled the world. Or something like that.

Best Geek Rap: Rainn Wilson and Kanye. Like Peanut Butter and Jelly. Or Salt and Peppa. Or Kids and Cows.

Best "Green" Statement of the Night: “If entertainers start publicly congratulating each other, the earth wins.” Jon Stewart/Steven Colbert

Just the Best: Queen Latifa presenting the 30-year mark of Roots

And just like last year, I have to add the category:

Most Fab Emmy Winner Who Was Also in My British Lit After Burns Class: Angela Kinsey. You have to love her.

It Really Does Fly.

We’re quickly approaching the Hurricane’s second birthday as I’m continuing to pack up his babyhood and experiencing all the time flying clichés first hand. When last night I ran across this little idea in superhero journal about timelining your first memories. And I realized that everything that's been so monumentally real to us over the last years--while I've been stretched and pulled and changed so thoroughly that I can't really remember the me of '05 or '95 or '85 or '75--will not be deposited in the Hurricane's cognitive and conscious memory bank . And that's hard to believe. Because so much has happened in this two-year, all-nighter boot camp. And the Hurricane will remember none of it. It's true that I can’t wait to for him to make some memories. And I really can't wait to hear what he reports 36 years from now. But in the mean time, here's my version.

The First Five Memories I Have.

Age 3: One early morning, it was extremely cold outside. It was probably January, and I was suffering a bit from a sinus thing. I hawked up a giant loogie and proceeded to swallow it. Then it occurred to me. That was what they were talking about in the "big church" I'd recently attended. That was sin. I had just swallowed sin, so it would never be a pesky bother to all humanity ever again. I had gotten rid of it. I triumphantly explained the fact that I had conquered sin to my father. Because I honestly thought sin was snot. I have no idea why I thought this would be so.

Age 4: I went to see Elvis in concert with my parents. I didn’t really get who he was or what was going on but I knew every song. I kept telling my mom how much I loved his chicken suit. She finally figured out I thought the Eagle on the back of his Nudie Suit was a chicken. For weeks afterward, I told people I went to see the chicken man.

Age 5: One day I learned how to open a package of individually wrapped crackers at school. I felt extremely talented that I’d figured this out by myself. I was obviously gifted.

Age 6: There was no doubt that I was related to Princess Leia. So the Padrino (The Hurricane's godfather) and I played Star Wars on our monkey bar spaceship at recess. To be ready for the alliance's call. Of course, as a result, I needed to wear my hair in double buns to school everyday. My mom was thrilled about this development.

Age 7: Wrote my first book about The Littles, tiny people that lived in my lunchbox. Loved my idea and was convinced I’d be the youngest author in the world. A few months later, I discovered that a book called The Littles had already been published by John Peterson eleven years before. I was seriously annoyed that he had stolen my idea.

Age 8: Went to camp for three weeks in the heat of the summer, while my mom was at the height of her pregnancy with my younger sister. It all makes sense to me now. But at the time, I was really only concerned about the daddy long-legs spiders in the showers. So I didn’t shower for three weeks. In August. In Texas. But I swam every day, so I thought that counted. It didn’t.

When do your memories start?

In With the New.

I spent most of Saturday packing away the last two years. More specifically, six giant plastic bins and three canvas bags full of clothes, toys, bibs, blankets, rattles, car seat covers and carriers.

In other words, the Hurricane’s babyhood.

I was so tunnel-vision focused on this task… getting it gathered, sorted, and piled for redistribution…that I fell into that middle school syndrome. You know, where you forget that the whole world isn’t experiencing exactly the same thing you are at any given moment.

This occurred to me as I was standing in the grocery line a few hours later and received a call from a number I didn't recognize. I answered it, and on the other end people were screaming and a friend of mine was (very excitedly) saying something about being a few feet away from Matthew McConaughey. And I thought. Wow. Not everyone is cleaning and going to the grocery store today. For some reason this fact reminded me that I needed to call my friend who, around here, goes by the name Super Zoe.

If you read the Queso very often, more specifically, the Queso comments very often, then surely you’re familiar. Besides being a professional blog commenter, Super Zoe is a wonderful person, former teacher, and current curriculum expert. Also, she hands-down knows more about fashion that anyone else in the universe. Plus lots of other stuff too. And she’s a great friend. And I owed her a phone call. So as I was packing up the car with groceries, I dialed her number. And she answered without saying hello. Instead, she started with maybe the best greeting ever…

SZ: I should warn you, I’m drunk.

GcQ: Well hello. That’s an interesting way to answer the phone.

SZ: I’m just saying. At least everyone around me is telling me I’m drunk. So I must be. I’m at a party. And I just want to warn you in case you’re thinking you’re having a regular coherent conversation with me. Because you’re not.

GcQ: Oh. Okay, well should I call back later?

SZ: No. Now’s a good time. I just wanted to warn you.

And then we had a hilarious and delightful catch up, where at one point she began to chastise me because I haven’t been posting oh so much on the Queso and on Cool Stuff and definitely not on Hurricane Tracking. Specifically I believe her issue was with the lack of Hurricane Tracking posts (because seriously, there really can never be enough Hurricane sightings).

But I got the gist on all. And I really agree with her. I’ve seriously been halfassing the posts lately. And I hate that. Plus, the banner keeps disappearing. Weird.

So this September, I’m bringing Queso back. Yeah. I’ll be posting here (at least) every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. And I’ll be posting at Cool Stuff (and yes, at Hurricane Tracking) every weekday. Now that school is in session and McConaughey is back at football games, I need to get back in the rhythm of things. Plus, what the heck else do I have to do after eight when the Hurricane’s nestled all snug in his bed?

And speaking of beds, along with sorting through all things baby blue and packing up and passing on my little love’s babyhood, we’re making some changes around Casa con Queso. For starters, we’re (finally!) starting to think about moving our always-on-11, full-steam-ahead Hurricane to a little boy bed. Read: no rails to keep him in. Imagine: a Hurricane roaming the house at night to raid the fridge for Jello. I’m just saying. I’ll have plenty to blog about. Plus, I will no longer be sleeping.

Taking School By Storm

The Hurricane hit his school full force today "graduating" from the Duckling class to the Busy Bunny class. Well, they've got the busy part right.

Last year, he was only a tad bit beyond clueless on the first day of school. He didn't really know where he was. He barely even knew who we were.

This year, he woke up bright and early, went straight for his shoes, grabbed them, shoved them in my direction and said "Shoes!" like a diva demands diamonds.

He then stopped...he never stops...looked at me sheepishly and said, "I go to school today?" Yes, our non-talker talked. He was that excited about school.

But the stopping didn't last long. We quickly got ready (chanting school! school! school!), made our way up the street, and he literally RAN! (that's right, RAN!) in. He went straight into his new class, made his way to the play kitchen station, picked up a plastic banana and started eating it.

And then it really started. The year officially began when grabbed a Busy Bunny Class hottie and kissed her right on the mouth. He was that excited about school.

It's going to be an interesting year.

------------

And speaking of learning and kissing and kids growing up way too fast, I reviewed a smart book...Girlology: Hang-Ups, Hook-Ups and Holding Out...over at Cool Stuff today. Check it out. It's a really good book. And there's a giveaway. Plus, a few 1980s references. What more could you want? Really.