Jessica Jill Brooks

Happy Valentine's Day, Matt...

2012-02-14T20:08:00.000-05:00

Quads 21st Birthday Bash

2012-02-14T09:48:00.001-05:00

We celebrated the adorable quadruplets' birthday last Saturday night in Broad Ripple. We met at Union Jack's for some intensely yummy pizza, and Matt was sweet enough to stay home with Sam so that Deb--our favorite babysitter--could join us.

Deb returned home, but my dad stayed with us, and we felt that a ripening experience in Ripple would be a quick shot at the Alley Cat Lounge. I always loved the Cat. I maybe or maybe didn't play pool there with several bands over the years...

Saturday night, Whitney Houston had just been pronounced dead--no real surprise to us--and some big, loud, weepy girl at the Cat (also drunk and stupid) went up to my dad and asked if he was a Republican. My dad, meekly, answered, "Um, no, I'm not a Republican," (fibber) to which she said, "Good, because if you were I'd punch you in the face."

She continued walking around the bar crying, so I had to make fun of her, just a wee bit. I said, "Oh, are you all right?" to which she replied, "No. Ronald Regan killed Whitney Houston, and if I find any Republicans here tonight (shew, I was safe) I'll f*@#ing punch them in the face."

We left the Cat pretty quickly. It was getting weird earlier than I remember back in my days. We walked down the alley (you see the significance here) to the Vogue Nightclub. My favorite place on earth next to my very own family room.

Our entire bunch: Jason, Angie, Nick, Tyler, Lauren, my dad and I got jiggy with it for hours. We all knocked back some tasty beverages, and none of us were feeling any pain...until the next morning.

Chocolate milk definitely cures a hang-over.

Matt's Birthday Party

2012-01-31T17:31:00.001-05:00

I really must desist in surprising Matt each year, because by the time he's 40 there will be no more tricks up my sleeve. And I've already told him...we're going somewhere hot for his 40th.

We had a surprise party open house this year. I told Matt that our neighbors previous and past would be joining us, which was fine with him, but people kept coming, kept coming, more people. We realized that we are still friends with almost all of our former neighbors. We're very fortunate with that.

I made a bunch of very yummy soup for the occasion:

bought him the perfect cake with our likenesses :) (and broke the "H"candle):

and his friend re-gifted this hideous thing from Christmas:

Another party snaps to attention. I'm on break until Valentine's Day.

Do What You Like

2012-01-24T21:07:00.001-05:00

I shared the best "secret" moment with Sam tonight...and then ran to tell Matt about it.

I have kept a journal since the 7th grade. Thank you, Mrs. Blaylock.

Sure, at many points it has saved my life. But my most extensive, serious journaling has been since the day I found out I was pregnant with Sam.

I journal all the time, and many days--most days--after Sam has said something funny, interesting or mean, I'll say, "Oh, Mommy needs to write that in her journal."

Tonight, Sam said, "I want to journal. I love to write."

I replied, "Well, when you learn all of your letters you'll be able to form words, and then you'll...oh, Sam! You'll be a writer. Mommy always wanted to be a real writer, but Mommy lacks some discipline, but if you want to be a writer...write! You can write a book!"

Sam's face burst with a smile. He couldn't contain himself, and he threw himself forward, hugging me, and simply said, "Mommy..."

Sam loves praise and nurturing. I followed it up (because of the parenting books) with, "You can be anything you want to be. Even a Senator. Mommy will still love you."

Sam said, "I want to be a writer."

I expounded to Matt. Matt's response: "Well, better than a lawyer..."

Apple Pie and Amoxicillin

2012-01-23T20:04:00.002-05:00

Not since I was in Madrid, Spain, searching for a 24-hr RX, have I been so greatly disappointed. In Spain, lovely Spain, there are roughly 3 drug stores per any metropolitan area. They open at 9, close at 5, and none of them are open weekends. This goes for France, too, come to think of it. While walking what seemed the entire country of Spain, back when I was still "fashion over function," I had at least 15 blisters on my feet from walking in clown shoes all day.

I searched for hours, not speaking a word of Spanish (5 years of French has really come in not handy), for a freaking drug store! To no avail.

But I will say this: at least in Europe you understand. They're purists. They don't like neon. They don't like advertising and marketing. They won't allow "box stores." Bless their hearts, I love Europeans.

But when Sam got strep throat over the weekend, and I had to call my always-there-for-me stepmom to find an open MedCheck (at 6 p.m.) I was pissed. We live in Carmel, for God's sake. Strip mall capital of the world, right?

And then to fill a prescription? Forget about it. One open. ONE. Oh-my-high-price-of-gas-God.

I called Matt after I'd already driven at least 12 miles around in a circle, asking, "Please hold dinner for me, I'm at CVS on Rangeline" (my third attempt at an open pharmacy). Matt said, "Better you than me, because someone would already be dead if it were me..."

There were actual tears in my eyes.

So, Sam's better. God bless America and amoxicillin.

We took him to see Beauty and the Beast 3D the next day. Ten minutes into it I spoke over Sam's head to Matt: this is a horrible message, if you really think about it. Matt nodded.

When we left the theater, Matt said, "So, Sam, the message is that if you hold a girl captive for long enough, she might fall in love with you."

Oh, the truth does sting.

People in my hot tub

2012-01-12T12:46:00.005-05:00

The "people in your hot tub" idea is a theory that allows you to entertain famous people who you may not--and probably are not--married to.

My neighbors, Kelly and Mike, and my husband all chose sex symbols, television personalities (if you can call it having a personality), and moviestars. OK, OK, I gave Kelly "Dennis Quaid," because I rather like him, too. And, honestly, I'm probably too old to know her other choices. I think both husbands chose Megan Fox, because, you know, they're guys.

Except for Jon Stewart, a highly sexy, funny and intellectual television personality--with tons of personality--I had a difficult time coming up with people who are actually still alive. Kelly thinks I'm nuts. She lets out screams regarding my choices.

I've spent a lot of time with Shakespeare. Old Bill would be in my hot tub, for sure, and now Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald.

I've been on an F. Scott Fitzgerald kick, of late. For those of you who may have only referred to the Cliffs Notes for Fitzgerald or, who, like myself, didn't completely 'get' him at age 16...reread! I just finished This Side of Paradise, and it's as if time stood still since 1920. Highly intellectual and philosophical, mildly political and greatly FED UP with humanity.

I'm walking on a cloud, having just laid the book down after a heavy sigh.

On to revisit the works of George Bernard Shaw. If you have ever seen a photo of him you may already know that he won't be joining my party.

Work, no sleep and a big smile

2012-01-08T17:49:00.003-05:00

There's something in the water around our neighborhood because everyone seems to be inexplicably happy these days. I know I am. I love life so much that I feel a little guilty for loving life so much. Shouldn't I be hating the world along with everyone else? Oh wait, that's only "as seen on Fox News."

It's the fact that I'm working. I'm working a lot right now and that makes me extremely happy. Sure, I tell Matt and Sam to "get out of here - give me some peace for the love of God" now and again, but that's my perfectionist calling card, not unhappiness.

Matt's been very supportive, and when he lets down his guard I think I even see a shimmer of pride on his face. : )

Sam, well, Sam is the greatest kid on earth. I sometimes wait for a specific measurement, some conclusive allotment that will be filled and I'll be content to love him on that level without possibly loving him more...and then he smiles, or laughs, or farts on me and I love him even more.

I made up this little song, Sam and Mommy Are Best Friends, when he was wee, and he still sings it to me occasionally. He's just the coolest little guy and I am so grateful and extremely blessed. Matt and I ask him all the time, "Do you even know how much we love you?" and Sam smiles, puts his hands as high as they'll go, and says, "This much, right?"

But, the kid still sleeps with us. He always begins just fine in his you've-got-to-be-kidding-me comfortable bed, but around 2 or 3, sometimes 4, he comes into our room. My eyes fly open like broken spring window shades, and I'm up the rest of the night. Last night, Matt slept in Sam's room because he was sick, so Sam and I watched Batman Forever in my bed until way past his bedtime. He fell asleep in 14 seconds, but then his snoring began. I turned our fan to level two, suffered for at least another hour, and then turned on a humidifier, as well. The bedroom sounded like a vortex into which we were about to be sucked, so I finally surrendered to half of an Ambien.

Snoring that trumps insomnia is never good news. Tired, bags under my eyes, I made him a quiche for breakfast and kissed him multiple (hundreds) of times throughout the day.

Matt dropped me at the Cheese Shop today while he waited in the car with Sleeping Boy. I bought a sliver of goose liver paté (where my PETA membership from college hits a snag), a bigger sliver of Stilton cheese, and of course, our favorite, Fol Epi (mais oui!). Sam and I made our first batch of cake balls today. It's the new thing, or maybe it's the old thing - I wouldn't know. They are not very pretty, but we did it together, like we do most everything. Now he's cooking dinner with his dad in the kitchen.

What can I say, it's love.

Party at Our House

2011-12-29T11:22:00.000-05:00

Matt and I love to entertain. We both love cooking, and I like making sure everyone's glass is full, all the candles are lighted, not one spec of dirt lingers anywhere, and that the music is spot on.

We're having a New Year's party, so come on over!

We had the greatest Christmas ever. It will be difficult to top in the coming years. We went to church--pretty much the entire Brooks clan, Matt, Sam and I--and allowed Sam to stay with us for the candle-lighting ceremony. It was beautiful and moving.

The Brooks gang joined us for Christmas Eve dinner and festivities, which warms my wee heart when we all can be together (but we were missing Jason's family, sadly).

Santa came, of course, and brought Sam everything on his list. Matt and I exchanged presents...one highlight is my retro Schwinn bicycle from the late 1960s - perfect!

But my favorite gift of all, from Matt, was a huge box filled with canned and dry food. I want to get involved--really, really involved--with Gleaners Food Bank. I have a plan I've been working through for a while, and when I opened the box, Matt said, "This is to help you start your mission."

I almost cried. This guy, this husband of mine, the onion...oh, I love peeling back new layers revealing what a sensitive guy he is.

So, he can't fix much around the house. That's all right. He's a good guy, and I knew that the minute I laid eyes on him.

With every great year and wonderful Christmas we have, we know that the most important part is giving to those in need. I hope to end all of my nights wide awake at 2:00 a.m. worrying about the children who didn't get dinner. And all it takes is a plan...and some serious driving around.

More to come - Happy New Year!

Say, what?

2011-12-13T07:03:00.001-05:00

In all of my geekdom, I discovered my new favorite website: Forvo.com. All of the words in the world. Pronounced.

It has over 6,000,000 people pronouncing words that might typically throw you, like Aeschylus (that one always gets me) or Jeffrey Eugenides (also had a really hard time getting that one down).

For this website you will need:
1. A computer
2. Volume turned up on said computer

You type your word in, and then click on a little arrow icon and voila: someone says the word correctly!

It even gives you a "Language of the Day," which today is Flemish, in case you want to practice your Belgian Dutch.

I'm searching the house for words I can't pronounce...I might play on this all day!

Shrimp & Grits

2011-12-11T08:19:00.004-05:00

I'm in the South. I've been in Charleston, SC for three days for a little break; a calm before my three writing jobs kick my ass in January. The 3rd South Carolina city I've visited, it's by far the most grand. Not quite Atlanta, GA, but for the South, it's really good. Strangely, it's a blonde town. I've met several great locals, and tonight a Charlestonian woman said, "I like you. Blondes have to stick together." She wrote down her phone number and told me she hoped to hear from me very soon. Funny, as that's something I'd probably do.

I've had some very quirky things happen since I've been here, and I'm shocked at how many 80s preppies are still living that dream. Whale and duck pants, bright green and bright yellow pants and shirts. I think the stores simply haven't restocked since 1985.

Charlottesville was chock-full of preppies with Daddy's money, seeking a degree in philosophy or poetry; The Charlestonian accent, however, doesn't give me the shivers.There was a sardonic quote once about how Southern people never sound like rocket scientists, even if they are rocket scientists.

Charlestonians deliver diction, syntax and annunciation with a soft undulating way of conveying their "inna-most" thoughts. It's sweet, sophisticated sugar. I told Matt that I could live here (if we ever move from Georgia, cough cough), and he said that Ruby Sue would likely turn over in her "grave" if he ever moved to the South. We simply won't tell her.

I met a couple last night who started off fun, but I quickly left the jazz bar via a ride from their "bike taxi" son, who'd recently graduated from the Citadel. I was afraid I'd either be sold off to slavery, or chopped into bits (worse yet, grits) if I played with this crazy group any longer. The wife, a Charlestonian, told me her "ugly" secrets and dark thoughts, her husbands miscomings, and her son's quest to marry the daughter of his dad's (her husband's) ex-wife. It was all too "Bravo" or "Oxygen" channel for my liking, so I left before they locked me in a trunk.

I had some damn good wine and mussels before I left, though. I held my arms way up in the bike taxi, laughing at the experience.

I took a wonderful walking tour of the historic downtown given by a 7th-generation Charlestonian and two dry old women from deep-Virginia, whom I could not comprehend at any corner. Although it's fascinating to learn about history--the 1860s were sure good--I noted one little thing that I don't think the rest of the group was following, something that was wearing on me like moss on a myrtle tree. The Civil War ended. There is no more Confederacy. You can talk about palmetto trees and artillery all you want, winning battles at Ft. Sumter, and decorated generals, but the Conferacy is not coming back. Charleston seceded first--and that's cool--but the Yankees won the good fight. And there's no sweet-tea-sipping glory-day-remembering under a magnolia that's going to bring it back. It just...poof! Went. In smoke, nonetheless.

But my stay at the Francis Marion Hotel (Revolutionary War "Swamp Fox") has been wonderful. My calves are killing me from walking...and I've done my share of eating and drinking. The icing on the piece of cake I did not order was Indiana beating # 1 rated Kentucky while I sat tasting my first-ever shrimp & grits.

I'm really looking forward to scooping Sam into my arms today, and kissing my husband hello. I miss them!

The Importance of Being Noticed

2011-12-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

One of the best quotes I've heard in a long time came from my friend, Doug, who tells his dates, "Can we please not record this night on Facebook?"

Hilarious.

Today Sam had a playdate with a good friend, whose mom--a wonderful mom--is very young. She added to her Facebook page "where we are having lunch and what we're eating" and I gave earnest consideration to ever posting again.

This younger generation keeps record, by God. I'm astounded at how many accounts they need to tell and show the world just what they've been up to. Is it ego? Is it trying to fit it, or find their place in the world? Is it necessary?

I'm waiting for an answer. I'll check Twitter and see what I find out.

A Fond Farewell

2011-12-03T16:04:00.000-05:00

We said farewell to our loving gerbil this week. Gertie died November 30 at 8:11 p.m. Her services were held under our Evergreen tree in the front yard.

Gertie spent many of her days being completely ignored. During those times she enjoyed chewing through toilet paper or paper towel rolls, hiding in one of her many "huts," and running on her obnoxious, loud, green wheel.

She leaves behind her family: Matt, who told Jill "Yes! Let's get a gerbil! Gerbils are fun! I always had gerbils when I was a kid!"; Jill, who fed her, talked to her, held her although Gertie made her sneeze, and cleaned her cage; and Sam, who once took her to preschool for Show and Share.

Gertie died with a full belly, and both Jill and Matt got to hold her for a while until that fateful moment when she decided to lie on her back. Sam seemed unphased by the situation, as it was bathtime, but he did kiss her a couple of times before she passed.

When told that Gertie was now in heaven, Sam smiled, and said, "My next gerbil is going to be name Tutu. And my dog is going to be named Fafa.

Peace Out, Gertie.

Brining the Bird and Other Disgusting Measures

2011-11-23T09:53:00.000-05:00

In a few moments I have to walk into my kitchen and stick my hands down the turkey's underpants and pull out stuff that no one in their right mind would actually use to make gravy, let alone eat.
My brine is cooling, Sam is coughing his head off in his "office" playing video games (it has begun...video games), and Matt fled for work (a short day, thank goodness). His parents have been with us for two weeks, with one more week to go! There is plenty of body heat in our house.

We took them to the Jazz Kitchen, which is one of my favorite places, and scored some bonus points for doing so. They're in Chicago today, so I'm going to whip this place into a Christmas wonderland since they leave next week, and will miss the transformation.

Thanksgiving tomorrow with Matt's folks, my mom, sister and niece. Big Brooks bonfire on Friday with the entire clan. Matt's parents want to join the bonfire, but I neglected to tell them that they might have to pee in the woods. This should be interesting.

Until then, happy Thanksgiving!

School Pictures

2011-11-12T21:01:00.000-05:00

I got behind a Chevy Malibu on Tuesday and it almost ruined my day.

Kidding.

Sam had school pictures taken on Thursday. We arrived to school early (we're almost always the first ones there because we drive 15-20 minutes to school, so it's difficult to time).

The director said we could "go right in" for the photo session since we were early, and she handed Sam his "paperwork," which she even called "paperwork." I waited. Sam sat in a row created just for picture day, little orange and blue chairs the height of small trash cans. I combed his hair and waited outside. I peeked a couple of times while he waited. He had this huge piece of paper gripped in one fist, and with the other small fingers he waved to me. He grinned. He was knocking his legs together and occasionally swinging them. He kept giving me big grins like he was very patient but couldn't believe how long he was waiting in line since he was the only kid there.

Or perhaps that's what I was thinking.

When his name was called, I vanished. I didn't want him performing for me, looking my way, or making goofy faces. I hid in the bathroom.

When he finished I walked him to his room. I asked how it went. He said, "It was fun, Mom. I was just getting my picture taken."

I cried the minute I got to the car.

This needs no formal introduction...

2011-11-01T15:12:00.000-04:00

Fresh Beats

We're people people

2011-10-25T20:35:00.000-04:00

Oh man, oh man, the blog. I think about writing, but I always feel so busy that I wonder how I can possibly boil down the facts. I can truly piss away my free hours like nobody's business, too. It's a balancing act.

Good words to describe Sam could be over-indulged child (like the fact that he owns at least 10 costumes and yet I spent my entire evening tracking down a "Dark Knight" costume because he'd rather be that than Ironman, which we bought 3 weeks ago), but somehow he keeps his sunny, friendly, highly-positive, sweet disposition, so Matt and I shrug and say, "Eh, hard to deny him." That kid always has plans. He's 99% Matt, with my social spark: he finds people wildly entertaining and enjoyable. He's knows all of his letters and numbers (up to 40) by sight, and is starting to relay his feelings/desires in fluent Spanish. His teacher said that he's definitely the most direct and assertive (albeit the youngest), and one of the smartest in the class. Let's hope he doesn't blow it all by voting Republican. ; )~

Winter is approaching. I can hear it in Matt's whimpers and sighs. My biggest winter challenge won't be shoveling all the snow, but keeping Sam in line. My flowers are dying, the grass is trying to choke out one last meaningful burgeon, and I've decided that I'll never dwindle time again with the fool-hardy mums. They last but a week or two. Hopeless.

We're heading down to French Lick Springs Thur-Fri for Fall Break, because preschoolers who are only in school 15 hours a week need respite from their harrowing schedules. The timing was perfect for Matt's CLE class (snoooooooze to the commoner), so Sam and I can get in some good swimming time at their wicked indoor pool.

Matt and I are going to a Halloween party with our friends Kelly & Mike on Saturday. The photos from this evening should be cracking. I'm just sayin. There have been a lot of trips to Goodwill, and I got to shop at stores like Wet Seal, Forever 21, and Deb! Whoa, enlightening. I cannot believe I've been wasting my time online ordering from Athleta and Title Nine.

Wal-Mart Bingo

2011-10-10T16:46:00.000-04:00

I have not been to Wal-Mart in over 6 months. My heart rate is back to normal, and I don't care if I could save $2.45: I will never return.

I will never drive behind another dump truck, a Mercury Sable, any type of Buick or Toyota Corollas. These are the slowest cars out there, and it isn't worth the aggrevation.

I seriously wrapped a gift at the corner of 96th and Keystone the other day, so I'll never take that route again, either. I'm simplifying my life.

This bingo card fully explains my recent, necessary actions.

Spooky Corner

2011-10-06T20:52:00.000-04:00

Our latest creation...it's killer.

Matt's Terrarium

2011-09-27T20:04:00.000-04:00

Sam and I made this for Matt's boring office...

note the tiny surf board.

4th Birthday Bash

2011-09-22T20:24:00.001-04:00

The sound of 30 little feet running around our house. We threw one killer 4th birthday party for Sam. 41 people in our backyard...awesome. And I KNOW there's no time clock in baseball...Angie was being creative. The scoreboard was the best part of the party!

Lordy Be

2011-09-06T17:24:00.001-04:00

We camped in Yellowwood State Forest for Labor Day - beautiful. Two men occupied the site next to us: one looking like an intern pastor at the local Church of Latter Day Saints, the other covered in tattoos with beady eyes and a crooked face. The kind of face you get when you bust out of jail.
We couldn't figure them out, and they kept shouting the Lord's name--not in vain, mind you--at the top of their lungs. Things like, "Glory be to God for fishing!" and "Praise be to Jesus the almighty, let me shout it to the world!"

Matt, hmph-ing, said, "Something ain't right with them." But we camped on. Tyler Brooks joined us, that cute little college kid.

Another guy was walking around the grounds carrying his bible. He smiled wide at me, and said, "You sure have a good looking family there." I could tell he was looking for fellowship, so I kept my nose down and kept camping.

We think we might find another place to camp next time. We keep to ourselves, usually.

Preparations are underway...

2011-08-24T16:53:00.001-04:00

I'm preparing for Sam's 4th birthday party. So far, there are 14 kids on the list, with parents, and my entire family. Matt makes the best margaritas, after all, and adults love drinking at kids' birthday parties. It's baseball-themed this year, and I'm creating a score board as the backdrop.

Sam and I practiced making baseball cupcakes. They were very tedious and we stopped after 5, but I am his mother for God's sake; I cannot buy store-made cupcakes!

I was just about to OK an order of personalized M&M's that I created for $52 online, but I had to stop myself, click off the site and hide the address. I thought, "Does he really need these?"

Definitely when he turns 5.

I should be in the party-planning business. I'm over the top - the guest room closet is already full of "birthday stuff."

Someone stop me. "Please," says Matt. : )

Super Fan

2011-08-19T21:50:00.000-04:00

This week has been a surfeit of stress. My dad would describe it as low level continuous stress, such is Katie's life. People who do not grab hold of what they have, who find fault and factor in the teeny cracks of their lives (I've been guilty myself), should rejoice that they are still living, still able to complain.

A good guy died this week, along with 5 others at the Indiana State Fair, who I'm sure were good, as well. At first, before I realized I knew one of the victims, it was hard for me to validate the feeling of loss and anguish the families and friends were experiencing. When I knew it was someone I'd known for so long, someone who had always been so wonderful to me, so happy and full of life, it was difficult not to imagine the horrible last moments of life he experienced. Glenn, who worked security at the Vogue Theatre, was a jovial, happy spirit. He spoiled me in my twenties and thirties, experiencing many concerts for the first time with me on the front row shouting, "Glenn, this is a really important band. They're from _____ and they have recorded ____ records." He would just laugh and smile. He didn't care. That wasn't part of his job. He was there to protect us. He knew I was all about the music, and any time I "wished" a nettlesome guy to disappear (which was sometimes), he would wisk said guy off into the darkness of the Broad Ripple, Indiana streets.

Perhaps 3 guys were kicked out of shows in those days, just for messing with me, for trying to push me somewhere I didn't want to be pushed. I should feel guilty, but I don't feel guilty. Glenn would laugh with me now. They all had it coming. I was Eric's girl.

Don't let me confuse you. I never had a boyfriend named Eric. No, no, much better. A best friend named Eric. A guy who would stay after hours--if, let's say, I was passed out in the Vogue's bathroom--for me. If I was heartbroken, or if I wanted to meet--let's say, The Tragically Hip for the first time--a band. Eric was there for me. Eric grew up at the Vogue Nightclub - it was his first job in high school. He stacked chairs in the evening. Now Eric is one of the most sought-after production managers (perfectionist and obvious Capricorn) in the country. Yep, the country.

Eric has come to my rescue more times than I care to remember, and Eric was standing next to the Indiana State Fair stage when it collapsed last Saturday evening. My husband and our neighbors were sitting on our deck 10 miles north saying, "Ooh, isn't this a scary sky?" Little did we know the aftermath that followed these comments.

So tomorrow I'll attend Glenn's funeral, and I'll likely tell him something funny that will always remain between the two of us. I'll thank him for all of the years he took care of me, and how he helped mold me from a starry-eyed fan...into a real fan. He taught me through his sincere laugh, and I taught him through my sincere devotion to music.

What can I say, I'm a fan. A fan of Glenn's and--thank god, still--a fan of Eric's. Without such friends, my life would simply have been a series of random concerts.

Lake Tippy

2011-08-09T19:34:00.053-04:00

Our goal is to vacation as much as possible before:
1. Summer ends
2. The United States careens further into financial disaster.

Matt says, "Not to worry, the stock market has crashed before!" I told him to please buy stock in Marvel Comics while it's down. ; )

We went to Lake Tippecanoe (Battle of Tippecanoe, if you know your Indiana history) over the weekend with our super fun, super nice, fast-becoming-our-best-friends Kelly and Mike, and their friends, Jason and Sandy (lest we forget the 5 kids in attendance). Lake "Tippy," as one would say, was very pretty, very Hoosier. It was in the town of Leesburg, which was near the town of Wabash (which I thought was only a county), which was accessible only via small town after small town on State Roads 37, 15 and 13. I'm maybe a little more comfortable on 465. I have definitely been to more places outside of Indiana than in Indiana. Shame on me. Better brush up on my Indiana history.

Once we arrived, once Matt and I stopped arguing over directions, once I had a PBR in my hand, it was bloody awesome:

Sam tubed.

Sam soaked up rays.

Sam drove the boat with Mike, drank a beer with his dad, and swam with his (previous lifeguard) mommy.

Sam...did crafts? Whoa.

...and Sam did NOT sleep in the room deemed "for children." Oh, that little mama's boy.

What a great mini-vacation.

Next up: The Outer Banks!

The Wood Pile

2011-08-03T12:14:00.002-04:00

Summer was rolling on nicely; M's garden was growing with few weeds:

Sam's playset was finally finished:

Sam learned how to swim (pretty well):

And then M bought a chainsaw:

...now it's back to work for us all.

Indians Game

2011-07-20T22:01:00.000-04:00

Today I attended a staff outing for Indianapolis Monthly. Given that I only knew one person there, my editor, who hired me over a beer at the Broad Ripple Brew Pub, I appreciated being included as "staff."

The outing was an Indianapolis Indians baseball game, and it was 95 degrees.

I changed outfit ideas a few times, finally leaning on one of my Title Nine skorts to get me through yet another day (best purchases I've made all summer), and a cotton "ruffle" top (so far from my daily gardening tee), just in case these business people were wearing suits. I considered a quick pedicure touch-up for those who might look down at my feet. No time.

I got Sam to school, got back home and took a shower, was having a perfectly good hair day, and allowed myself 45 minutes to drive downtown, park, and walk to their elite offices on the Circle.

It took me 50 minutes just to get downtown. I was starting to sweat, but that's mostly because of the temperature. I walked into the lobby 5 minutes late and several cute women were dressed in shorts, T-shirts and skirts, so I knew this must be my group. I introduced myself and they phoned my editor to meet us.

I walked with a large group of journalists to the game and, quite literally, I could feel the sweat beading on my lip and occasionally dripping down my back. By the time we got to the game--hadn't even taken our seats yet--my shirt was wet, my deodorant was "pilling," and I had severe "shine face." The perfect hair went up in a ponytail

We sat in our seats--right in the sun--for about 30 minutes. I could feel sweat running down my bra...eww. No one ever mentioned a beer. I couldn't be the leader on this one (although, typically, I like being the suggester when drinking is involved). A few times I thought, "Is there a hidden camera? Is this some kind of a joke?"

I ran to the bathroom and used 35 paper towels to wipe sweat. Other women were doing it, too, so I didn't feel so weird. I returned to my seat. I baked. Finally, my editor said, "Let's go get a beer!" Oh, thank God.

I stayed for two + hours and I was the first one to leave. I'm certain no one ever saw my toes. I held my arms tightly to my sides so that no one could see the huge sweat rings, and I ambled back to my car.

What I brought home were some new acquaintances, an official baseball for Sam, and knowing that I'm not really a spectator of sports.

I have no idea if the Indians won; in fact, I don't even know who the Indians played.

For those who still keep datebooks

2011-07-10T13:50:00.003-04:00

The magazine shot. How hilarious. "It looks like a dating site photo," my mom told me.

Well, it isn't from a dating site...it's in Indianapolis Monthly this month as there's a wee feature on me being the new Datebook Editor. I seriously love my job. It causes me to be even more of an insomniac because I'm constantly playing over the words of my Top Ten write-ups each month. I choose my words carefully, mull them over, sleep on them, change their order or relevance, and do this for about 3 days each. It's neurosis. I love writing, and I feel very privileged to be writing for the Monthly.

Matt is also acting as my agent trying to land me my second law firm book deal. Ooh, that would be nice. But when would I write...in my sleep? Oh yeah, I don't sleep.

Sweet.

I mean, who's complaining?

2011-06-26T19:25:00.004-04:00

Seriously, there aren't enough words to describe the evilness of edging a lawn. I edged one very long stretch of ours today and I was cussing, bitching and calling all of our neighbors racial slurs (ok, that part is untrue). Matt and Sam came outside to check on my progress, and I said, "Probably not a good time to talk to me." Matt knows exactly what this means.

Because we live on a corner we have one freaking big yard, which, God knows why, I happily claimed as "mine" when we moved in. I'm minutes away from calling a lawn service. The only bright spot of this torture was 1) The fact that Sam did help me early on, before the name-calling, and he was so darn cute about it, and 2) Sam got bored with helping pretty quickly and 3) Sam hosed the middle of the street and said, "Mom, I'm being evil (this was preliminary, way before I'd decided that edging was the devil's work)." I asked why. He replied, "Because I'm making the street slippery for cars that pass." I said, "Ooooh, good one, honey."

But how can I really complain? Matt has spent the last 3 Saturdays putting together Sam's new totally-awesome playset that I picked out. Matt is far less dramatic or bitchy than I, and he--this will blow you away--never really complains.

DAMN IT. That pisses me off!

Our neighbors were over last night, and the wife (my friend) of the family said, "Jill's a work horse." Oh, man, I love her. FINALLY someone recognizes my efforts! I am a work horse. It's a Brooks thing. I take after my dad, who took after his dad, who took after my great-grandfather, who could apparently put a fence post in the ground without ever first digging a hole. We have brut strength, it's weird, and I love physical labor, even when I'm complaining.

Our old-guy next door neighbor told me a few weeks ago: Let me know if you ever want to get rid of your husband. Hahaha. He's a strange chap with a mysterious motorcycle alter-ego, which wouldn't interest me on any playing field. He wants free labor.

Sidebar: Sam dunked his first Oreo in milk this week. I think that's a rite of passage in the South.

Redbuds of summer

2011-06-13T21:24:00.002-04:00

There's a redbud tree in our front yard-a giant, well-nutured, mature one-that's my favorite, next to the weeping cherry we got Matt last Father's Day. The redbud, though, is growing low, touching the ground in places. It's difficult to mow around.

Tonight I sacrificed a few branches, hated cutting them off, but it's really a giant sacrifice for our family. Every branch that goes into the trash opens up a little window into our lives for our nosey neighbors, the Kravitz family. Gladys Kravitz inspects everything we do, who comes and goes, what time of day we're coming and going, and if she can't figure it out she asks us.

It was a field day for her when I came home early from California; my brother picked me up at the airport and spent the night at our house. I worked in the yard everyday, and kept driving back and forth to my dad's house, helping out with Kate.

Gladys marched over-literally marched-and said, "Where have you been???" I told her and she continued, "Well, where were Matt and Sam???" (always three question marks after her sentences.) I explained the situation. "Well, whose car was in your driveway???????" (big question.) Damn it. It would have been the perfect chance to say, "My boyfriend's," but I'm weak, and she scares me. I explained further, wimping out completely.

Gladys said, "Well, I had Mr. Kravitz look over your fence one day to see what was going on!!!"

When my mouth finally closed, I slowly walked away from her, saying under my girl-who-got-her-ass-kicked-in-dodgeball voice, "You can think those things, Gladys, but please don't ever say them outloud."

There's a kind of hush

2011-06-02T20:46:00.005-04:00

It's incredibly quiet. I've been home alone for nearly 24 hours, with nary a sound in the house. I am so loving this. I miss Sam and Matt, and we talk so frequently that it seems they could be watching Spiderman in the other room, allowing me some time to think and write. I'm drinking wine, eating olives, and baking bread. It's a Little Women moment. I'm smiling. Did I mention that it's quiet?

I had to leave them in California behind my airport tears, but they'll be home in two more days. I was "randomly selected" for a hand-check (a sexual term, actually, that our neighbor claims his parents used on him often, as a teenager watching television on the couch with a girlfriend) at John Wayne airport. My sad emotion quelled, and became rage.

My brother, Jason, picked me up at the airport. He took my picture as I walked off the concourse, and said, loudly, "Jill, how was China???" He then whispered, "I wanted to make it seem big." He's a funny guy. I told him my hand-check story and he said, "You were crying...and about to board a plane? I would have checked you, too!" He and I stayed up drinking wine and talking until 2 a.m. He was leaving for...California this morning to, crazy guy, participate in the "Escape to Alcatraz and Try Getting Back Amongst Those Sharks and the Cold Water Triathlon."

I mean, really, he's a machine.

And now I'm home. I'm going to soak this in while I can. No TV: heaven. Lauren and I are picking Kate up at camp tomorrow morning, and we're going to find the little Southern Indiana breakfast nook of which my dad spoke, and turn up the dial on fried eggs and bacon. My step-mom has ostensibly asked be to "kid sit" while they are on vacation in Long Boat Key, although she's completely allowing me to shirk responsibility, for the most part.

We had a wonderful trip to California. My mother-in-law and I are two peas sharing one pod. We are both a little about the gossip, but she generally wins if she's talking about anyone in Hollywood. I just...don't care. We laugh a lot, though, both free-spirits.

We drove back to Santa Barbara County, where Matt and I honeymooned over three years ago (Sam's age math quiz!). This time we took Matt's parents and Sam, but it was still quite lovely. We hit a few good wineries, bought some killer wines, and Matt's dad ordered a case of the 2007 (Sam's year) Alma Rosa pinot and shipped it to us! YEEEAH! We ate at the "Sideways" (our favorite movie) restaurant we'd missed the first time, the Los Olivos Cafe & Wine Merchant. My god, but the Californians know how to cook. We walked around a million shops, bought fudge and fridge magnets.

We hung out on Newport Beach a couple of times, Matt and Sam surfed, and we saw the "bearded lady" hanging out at Perry's Pizza. Later, we drove down to Dana Point. Matt asked if I'd like to see "the scene of the crime," and I replied, "Of course!" Beautiful place. I thought maybe it would be a little weird for Matt, but he neither hesitated nor hurried, because now it's just another place. Beautiful place.

Did I mention that it's quiet here?

We rented a camp site at Doheny Beach, and Sam and Matt surfed some more. Matt and Sam hung out on the beach at sunset, playing "Tell me another truth about you." Sam is the most darling, dear-hearted child in the world. He and I were standing on the beach watching Matt surf, and he said, "Thank you for buying that hot chocolate for me this morning, Mom." I knelt down and gave him a huge hug, he touches my heart so easily. I said, "Sam, you're the best person I know." He said, "Yeah, and I'd really like the Buzz Lightyear bike for my birthday." Perfect.

The three of us built a fire and sat around until well past dusk. Sam fell asleep in the car in about 15 seconds. Matt and I kept smiling at each other. There are not always perfect days.

The final day, I wrote out my "Sam list" (eye drop (he's had pink eye), brush teeth, don't forget his DVDs on the plane), and they took me to the airport. It was crushing. Sam called me later and said, "Mom, you must come up to the "coozie" (jacuzzi)!" I explained how I was in Minneapolis now, and that my toilet at the airport, while I was organizing my suitcase, flushed 5 times. Sam said, "Mom, I'm really serious. You must come up to the the coozie." Heartbreak.

I noted four types of people now on planes: The workers (Matt-types, always on their laptops), the game players (also on laptops, but mindlessly), the book readers (me, and a handful of others left out there who read actual books), and the parents flying with children (staring off into the distance).

I miss my boys. I cannot believe they haven't called during the construction of this blog.

It's too quiet.

Oh, gee, thank you!

2011-04-28T22:31:00.003-04:00

I just watched Sam sleep for about 20 minutes, which is what I do every night for about 20 minutes (sometimes 50 minutes, when insomnia kicks in). Matt came in and we held hands in a little Sam-cradle. Awww, we're good parents. : )

I received a thank-you note today from my step-grandmother (my awesome step-mom's mom) for showing up at her house with my family for Easter, and eating all of her food. I'm ready now. Bring it, Louise. Next time I see you, no matter what the reason, I'm sending you a thank-you note. Sam and I stop by to play pool in your basement: you're getting a thank-you.

I love the thank-you note generation. I'm the last of the thank-you note generations, I'm afraid. Although I may not thank someone for coming over and eating, I certainly send thank you's, and I'm teaching Sam, with his little S. A. M. handwriting, to send them, too. For a little boy, he has beautiful manners.

Sam got his hair trimmed the other day, and I noticed another little boy doing the same. His mom allowed him to play on his DS the entire time. The stylist worked away, and the child (older than Sam, maybe age 8), never looked up. I was appalled. I told my dad the story and he said, "God forbid the little boy learn anything from that lady." So true. He continued, "Someone will ask him someday who cut his hair, and he'll say, "What? Someone cut my hair?""

I got my hair cut last weekend by a guy, and when I told him that my son has beautiful manners, he asked, "You say that to him?" I said, "I sure do, because I'm raising a sensitive, wonderful child who happens to love guns, swords, daggers and Spiderman."

My "stylist" seemed affronted. Sorry, dude.

Wine Wonderful Wine

2011-04-17T13:39:00.006-04:00

I felt self-conscious returning the 23-wine bottle stand to the store, explaining that we needed more wine space in the dining room, and that my husband had found a lovely 47-bottle, iron stand online.

A lady standing near me chimed in: Can we come over to your house?

Our next house--and the way Matt likes moving, that'll be in a year--will have a wonderful little nook in our basement for proper wine storage. Falling short of my friend's that has a 9,000-bottle wine cellar.

I chime in: please don't forget me in your will.

Future Memoirs

2011-04-15T18:27:00.006-04:00

I found a fork on the kitchen floor while I was sweeping today, and I vaguely remembered Sam dropping it about three days ago. I shuddered at the new me. When I was dating one of those other guys, we once visited one of our few friend-couples with kids, and I noticed a piece of hotdog on their floor. I couldn't believe that a mom would allow a hotdog to linger like that, and I most certainly judged her.

It's no secret that I clean constantly. We have two spiders--big fat-bellied things--living on opposite sides of our front French doors. I vacuum there at least once a week, and I always clean up their piles of other dead, weaker spiders and bugs, but leave the two motherships in peace.

I've always had this soft spot for bugs and animals, although I eat animals, crave eating animals, and don't hesitate to feast upon them regularly. When I was a child, my parents tried, in a vain attempt, to save baby possums (these were regular possums, not opossums) whose mommy had been run over by a car (probably my great-grandfather's). I bawled every time one died, and they all eventually died.

So now, I love when Sam yells, "Mom, get a cup...there's a spider in my room!" I just hope that none of his friends end up mentioning us in a memoir.

Wow, I'm easy to please

2011-04-15T17:07:00.004-04:00

Matt handed me $400 from the sale of his 1971 Mercedes that was rusting in our driveway, from the money I gave him to buy the 1971 Mercedes that was rusting in our driveway, and I bought a new lawn mower. Nothing runs like a Deere.

Richard Russo Lecture

2011-04-13T19:26:00.007-04:00

I'm impressed with Butler University's Visiting Writers Series. It had been quite a while since I'd stepped foot in the Atherton Union, but my mom and I saw Richard Russo "speak," which is to say "read" last night. He mixed his non-fiction essays with his fiction—-my favorite, Empire Falls—-for which he's so well known, and it gave the audience an in-depth look into his childhood hometown of Gloversville, NY. The town is Empire Falls, from the Pulitzer Prize winning Empire Falls, and Bath from the book-made-movie Nobody's Fool (Paul Newman). His essays were amazing, and I came home and regurgitated them verbatim for my husband, the biology-major-turned-attorney, who has a flare for the creative, or at least for creative people. : )

But here were the weird points of the evening:

1. When Richard (Rick) finished reading, and said we'd all "be done" after a session of Q&A, I heard a cacophony of car keys being pulled from women's purses. Women are weird, and there were plenty of them there. When women hear "the end," or even "it's almost the end," they get those damned car keys ready. I, so sensitive to sound, took notice.

2. My mother was appalled by the attire worn by the bookish women in attendance. She could barely get the word "clog" out of her mouth when she was trying to describe the outfit of the quote, unquote freebird sitting next to me. Mom and I went for a glass (or two) of wine after the lecture, and she admitted that she'd been shaking her foot the entire time, trying to get the poorly-dressed women to notice her leopard-print shoes. Oh, how this woman makes me laugh.

This is why I'm earthy. This is why I read great books and don't give one hot damn about whether or not I'm wearing make-up. I'm at home with fellow English majors in Atherton's Reilly Room, even though I'm a Hoosier through and through.

Showtime

2011-04-03T18:36:00.002-04:00

Ken Bethea and me before the show.

Bowling for general realization of the world

2011-04-02T21:32:00.003-04:00

Matt took Sam bowling today, and text-messaged me this: I now know where to come when I'm having a low self-esteem day. That's how I feel about West Lafayette. Hooray Bulldogs. Matt doesn't realize it, but we're getting a damned bulldog soon.

U.S. Mail

2011-04-01T20:34:00.002-04:00

We've been getting our neighbors' mail all week, as they are sunning themselves in Florida while we rot in the snow and rain. They get home tomorrow, so I have to re-seal all of their letters, and make sure to smooth out the creases of their Details magazine. I'm writing like crazy and this job is piling on the hours, but I love it. So happy to be creative.

'Gans

2011-03-26T21:12:00.006-04:00

Matt and my dad are on their first official date: the Willie Nelson concert at the Murat! I stayed home with Mr. Sunshine and we're watching lots-o-Backyardigans adventures. I recently "friended" Evan Lurie, musical genius of the 'Gans, as we like calling them. We own 8 Backyardigans DVDs, and Matt and I sing the music all day long in our heads.

Evan used to be in a NYC band called the Lounge Lizzards - remember them (kind of) well. I absolutley love social utilities. I don't go backstage anymore (although I am having lunch next Sunday with my friend Ken Bethea, an Old 97), but I still have the need to talk me some music with the professionals. After all these years, music is still my passion...I've simply added a few more.

My delicate little flowers are covered outside with bed sheets (what else?) because we're expecting spring snow, but the Bulldogs beat the Gators in overtime, so it's a good night. Sam and I want a slobbery bulldog. We're trying to convince Matt of their charm. I grew up with an English Bulldog named Sophia of Downey; she took a nap against me every day of my life until 5th grade, and I want to create such fond childhood memories for Sam, too. Matt grew up with a Domerman. Nothing cuddles like a Doberman. Whatever.

Time for the Swamp Creature. Some seriously good music. Thank you, Evan.

Spell Check

2011-03-23T11:53:00.003-04:00

I'm loving this new writing gig! I've spoken to 10 PR people already this week, and I've let a couple know about the grammatical errors on their websites. ;)

I've already logged many hours, written many "pieces," and I can't get enough. Go English!

My schedule is beginning to need some juggling.

Old 97s

2011-03-16T17:28:00.003-04:00

Old 97's are coming to town in early April. Here's a review I wrote in 2004!

PREVIEW
The Old 97's
The Vogue
January 19, 2004

Come see the first good show of the year: The Old 97's. The hypersonic genre-mixers play the Vogue next Monday to their "we've been waiting two bloody years for this" fans. Once Dallas-based, the band now collaborates via 3 cities: lead singer and guitarist, Rhett Miller, is in New York and bassist, Murry Hammond, in Cali, while lead guitarist Ken Bethea and Philip Peeples hold down their Alamos in Texas. Rhett Miller recently chatted with me and, glutted with vigor and warmth, expressed the band’s hullabaloo for their upcoming album, touting a couple of songs to pique our interest. "Murry's chord progression is the cornerstone to the song "The New Kid," which, ironically, isn’t about my 2-month-old son, Maxwell," he said. The tune "Won’t Be Home No More," from the Ranchero Brothers (former Miller & Hammond band) is being brought in from the pasture and added to the kitty as well. But with five albums, they’re sure to play the old favorites Doreen, Big Brown Eyes, 19 and Timebomb too. Miller stated, "The audience often stands slack-jawed when they don't hear old songs; it's tough to try new songs out on the road, but playing them isn't so much for the audience as it is practice for the band."

Cowpokes with brains, the 97’s are all avid readers and the band’s eloquent writers, Miller and Hammond, construct most of the songs. "I sing the songs that I write and Murry sings the songs he writes—we're even getting Ken to sing a song which he's never done in his life," said Miller. Their catalog casts the net wide, bringing in styles from the Ramones, Jason and the Scorchers, Hank Williams and the band X. Miller's former band Killbilly purveyed his "deliverance" of Bluegrass and they all retain their native y'alt-country style. Hammond named the group from a song sung by Johnny Cash, The Wreck of the Old 97, though "accelerate" seems more their nature. Their music flies open like unfastened shutters in a Texas tornado, executing precision and flare with double-time alacrity. You arrive at their show tired and return home unable to count any sheep.

Miller, rock-n-roll's haute du jour, is the type of guy who answers, "Ah, shucks" to a compliment. Any girl who's ever had an interest in their music has secretly hoped he'd turn up as her mystery date, though he recently became Old 97s-number-4 to marry. Raised in a family of music lovers, he began playing guitar at age 12 and was playing Dallas gigs by age 15. Known as the "weird kid who played folk songs" (or so he said), he opened for the Pixies' Frank Black when he was a mere 18. He opened for Hammond’s band Peyote Cowboys in 1986 and the Old 97's was born. Collectively, the 97’s have all had solo or side projects; most notably, Miller recorded a 2002 solo album on Elektra, The Instigator, that won high acclaim as the perfect pop album. Several local radio stations picked up the single "Come Around," and I spun it a few thousand times myself. The album's infectious lyrics and charm are unyielding and frustrating to critics who love to pan, and its danceable mixture of rhythms forces even the most stubborn toes to tap. Miller should be performing surprise (oops, sorry) solo acoustic songs off Instigator at Monday's show (or so I asked).

The 97's have new management: Vector, to be exact (Lyle Lovett, Emmylou Harris) and after their January tour lite the band will begin recording their sixth album in February. It will arrive mid-summer 2004 on the New West label. Miller's next solo album, also on Elektra, will fall on the heels of the 97’s’. For now, Miller's greatest ambition and achievement are simultaneously the birth of his son. He sang me Maxwell's favorite song, the backwards alphabet, saying, "We call it his ZYX's – he loves when I sing to him." Ah, the beauty of rock-n-roll.

--Jill Brooks

Inevitable Vulnerability

2011-03-15T20:03:00.006-04:00

The Ba-Ba Beenie Club was at our house today: Sam, Cole and Teddy. I made pizza for them, but Cole suggested "sugary cereal" instead, so they had Fruit Loops, with a chaser of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. I want them to like me.

Yesterday, I had a flashback of the time at the Blue Point Bar when Steve Simon said we should all tell of a time when we were the most vulnerable, an embarrassing moment in our lives. For me, these moments, these chocolate-sauce-dripping-down-a-new-white-shirt occurences are frequent, and I had one yesterday.

I'm very organized, but hugely impatient. Do it now, talk about it later. Go on, do it. Get it done.

Sam's teacher--the kind of person who deserves a "bless her heart" after her name--puts her "all" into Sam's class. She writes down everything the kids do each month, prints the reports out in color and does not leave one Painted Rock Day unturned. Sometimes I'm too busy for these lengthy accounts.

She sent a sheet home last Friday explaining that the kids would be making vegetable soup on Monday. Bring a vegetable. This is all I needed to know. I did notice an italicized "bring ONE," and I moved on to my next project after marking it in my brain index. One veggie. Monday. Next.

I thought it was a little weird, one veggie, and I even commented about it to Matt over the weekend. "Isn't that strange...one veggie? What if it's a mushroom? One mushroom? What about a green bean? One? How weird."

Never thought to re-read the teacher's three or four paragraphs because I already knew it all: Veggie soup. One veggie.

We bought fresh French-style green beans over the weekend, and I put two in a plastic bag. I took them into to Sam's class on Monday, telling the teacher and her assistant, "Well, they're French, so we brought two," as if we were being somewhat generous. The teachers looked at me incredulously.

I noticed that other moms were bringing in entire gardens of green beans, peppers, mushrooms. I drove my 8.5 miles home and re-read the memo. It read:

If the chosen veggie is a carrot, please bring ONE carrot, because I'll also be bringing carrots to class.

So, poor Sam represented two small French green beans in his class soup and, from what I hear, he ate most of it, too.

Matt almost choked he laughed so hard.

A spoon full of medicine ball

2011-03-09T17:13:00.004-05:00

I've been steadily working out now for nearly three months at my little gym where nobody knows my name. I love that. Cheers in reverse.

On the days Sam doesn't go to school, I've been trying to get up around 6:30 am and get my workout in before Matt and Sam even roll out. All other days I go right after I drop him off at preschool, and right before my venti latte and a stroll around Clay Terrace mall. JOKING.

The "trainer" at wee gym said that I should always begin with weights, but I begin with a run. I have to, otherwise the A.D.D. kicks in after weights and I can sometimes be found walking to my car. Gotta get the real sweat out of the way...the weights feel like pencils when my heart's already pounding.

I want to choke those people with 13.1 and 26.2 stickers (except my neighbor, who is very nice and therefore allowed to put any sticker she wants on her car). My brother's sticker would read 140.6. Go to hell with that kind of attention span.

But, strangely, I'm loving the treadmill. I can zone on a treadmill unlike on the street, where I have to keep track of my footing vs cracks, rocks, twigs and ants (I cannot kill anything). I can finally watch Fox News, which we all know I just wuv, or Kathy Lee and Hoda, equally as news-filled, without interruption! (Trainer Boy said that they once put CNN on, and two extremely old people never came back...haha).

My favorite part, though, is the Core. I love Dead Bugs and Mountain Climbers. I'm having a little love affair with the medicine ball. I don't think Matt minds this affair, either. : )

When I was sick a few weeks ago, Sam said, "Mom, use your medicine ball!"

I love that kid. True love.

Cookin'

2011-03-04T19:17:00.002-05:00

I do amaze myself. This week I cooked rack of lamb crusted with coriander, stuffed steak pinwheels, and chicken carbonara.

Luckily, I worked out at the gym every single day.

I'm enjoying the tone, especially since we're gourmands. My sister calls to see what we're whipping up each day - she said it's like calling a restaurant.

Weekenders and Anniversaries

2011-02-28T20:58:00.006-05:00

My husband, what a guy. He told Sam and me to pack our bags because we were going to Chicago for a the weekend! He booked a room at the Palmer House because he knows I'm an old-fashioned girl who is a sucker for Art Deco and Grecian frescoes.

Jason and the boys met us up there. We spent several hours at the terribly expensive and super marginal Shedd Aquarium, where a "snack" cost each party $30. I kept asking where the big sharks and some whales could be seen. No such things. Such a big city rip-off.

We grabbed drinks in the Palmer House's lobby, and had an amazing dinner of Spanish tapas at Mercat a la planxa, a restaurant that Matt had discovered through being a total foodie. It was really a sight to see the three young boys devouring filet, lamb, scallops, sausages and flatbreads. We loved it, until the bill came. ;0

Liam and Finn gave at least 10 dollars to the homeless on our walk back to the Palmer, and we were scolded by a little Chinese man when we brought our 3 little bulls into his china store after dinner. Jason even said, "You look really nervous, sir." He had no idea what that meant; he just kept saying, "No touch...no touch!!"

In the morning we toured Millenium Park, which is far more inviting in the summer, grabbed breakfast at the West Egg (sweetly reminiscent for me and my many hung-over mornings after concerts back in my singlehood) shopped at Burton and Jonathan Adler, and ate pizza at the ever-famous Gino's East. Sam fell asleep at the restaurant, which he never does - those little legs were tired.

It was a perfect trip, and I'm so glad that Jason made the effort to join us. The real treat: Matt's and my anniversary! Let's toast to that!

There is definitely a saving-of-one-another involved in marriage. I was so independent that I never wanted to be saved, never thought of it that way. I never in my life "looked" for a husband, but I see more and more how Matt swooped in and took me into his life, and I'm so very grateful. And I saved him, too. Oh, how I saved him. When we talk about it, Matt just wipes his brow. ; )

Happy Anniversary, sweet Matt.

The Party Nook

2011-02-20T19:24:00.003-05:00

No matter where you have a party, everyone ends up in the kitchen. Matt and I had a few neighbor friends over the other night and, not only did we all congregate in the kitchen, we stayed in the kitchen nook the entire night! What a waste of a perfectly clean house (Sam mopped!).

If I'd put the beer and wine in the mud room, along with our gerbil, that's where were would have gathered. Next time, as a test, I'm going to put all of the alcohol on top of the washer/dryer and see what happens. Maybe I can get guests to help fold.

Mrs. Clean

2011-02-01T17:38:00.002-05:00

Matt says I just look for shit to clean.

Celebrating the Birthday Boy

2011-01-30T17:44:00.005-05:00

I surprised Matt with a getaway weekend in ... Louisville, KY! Who says I'm not a great wife? There were lots of "y'alls" and thick country accents (no one ever sounded smart with a country accent...I stole this line from a comedian), but it was extremely charming.

The best part: Matt's friend, John, from UVa and his wife, Jacquie, drove up from Chattanooga, TN and surprised him. John and I set this up in November, so we've been scheming for months.

We took Sam with us a). because John & Jacquie wanted to meet the fine fellow, and b). because we take him everywhere.

We stayed at the 21c Museum Hotel, which had a modern art gallery in it. What a cool place. Outstanding. Matt, Sam and I went out to dinner Friday night, as we had a much shorter drive and J& J hadn't yet arrived. I was trying to keep everyone awake, kept texting John about his ETA. Our plan was for them to knock on our door when they arrived.

After dinner, the three of us went back to our hotel room, and Matt changed into his comfy clothes. I was chuckling at the thought of him being in his underwear when they finally got there, but that didn't happen. J&J knocked on our door at 10:30 pm--SURPRISE--and I made Matt go out and get drunk with them. Good wife!

Matt was completely surprised, and it entertained me as much as seventh-grade socials to witness this. : )

John suffered from his Friday night martinis the rest of the weekend, but we ate a delectable lunch at Ramsi's "Food of the World" on Saturday, and ate dinner at Proof on Main, which was noted in Esquire magazine as one of the best restaurants in the country. Oh, it was good. They made Matt cotton candy!

Sam was the only child in the hotel. Sam was the only child dining at Proof. They asked if he needed a straw, and with a tsk, I replied, "He's fine, thanks."

We "hit" the Louisville Slugger museum for good measure. A lot of baseball names were brought up...all flying right over my head. John loved it, because he's a New Yorker. They eat baseballs for breakfast.

Now we're planning a weekend trip to Nashville, TN (Dede, can you babysit?), and a ski trip with J&J. Quickly, I need some snowboarding lessons.

Matt, Sam and I ate lunch at McAllister's Deli, somewhere off 65 N. in Clarksville (Clarksburg--Clarksomething) and: oh, my. That's all I have to say about that.

Birthday Boy is having a great day...he's cooking dinner for us, of course! He is allowed to listen to whatever music he wants...just this once.

Happy Birthday, Matt! xo

Super Heros

2010-12-22T19:30:00.002-05:00

Sam has gotten some awesome presents, and Santa hasn't even been here! Dede got him some great costumes: Superman, Batman and Robin.

Last night, Sam said, "Pick one, Mommy!" I chose Batman, because he has the best song. : )

Sam was Superman.

Sam said, "Here, Daddy, you're Robin." Matt said, "I don't want to be Robin - being Robin blows!"

I begged Matt to allow me to photograph him in his Robin costume. He kindly said: No "Freaking" Way.

Santa comes tonight, a night early, and then we're off to the O.C. Rainy, high 60's, but it beats the snow.

Merry Christmas.

Living the dream

2010-12-14T11:50:00.003-05:00

I'm about to wrap-up my final story for the sizable writing project I've been working on - and I'm over a month ahead of schedule!

Poor Sam has spent some pretty boring days around the house, when he's not at preschool, with Mommy typing away on her computer. I'm about to make that all up to him as we're going to spend the entire week next week going to movies, Monkey Joe's, Chuck E. Cheese--whatever he wants!

Matt and I asked him what Daddy does for work. Sam shrugged and said, "He works in a tower." We asked him what Mommy does, and he said, "She's a writer." He's a good man, that Sam.

Even Matt tells Sam to play guitar!

We're heading to California next week for an entire week of sunshine. It's been 87 degrees there all week. I cannot wait. We're going to take a trip up the coast again, and take Sam with us this time. There's so much adventure waiting for us. Sam has definitely had more life experiences than most children his age, and he's absolutely wonderful to hang out with. Whenever I pictured the type of child I might have someday, Sam was definitely in the dream.

Sam slept between us the other night, and Matt said, "Can you imagine how comforting it is to be sandwiched between your parents like this? Sam will never feel as safe as he does right now."

This was also part of my dream. : )

A Visit to Santa

2010-12-05T07:38:00.006-05:00

After a day of sledding on the "Carmel Hill" yesterday, we took Sam to meet Santa at Clay Terrace. They had a pretty swanky set-up, as Santa rested inside a little gingerbread house that had a Tom Roush car give-away parked right in front, insuring that no one could take a decent photograph.

Sam had a runny nose all day, which should have been red flag enough to postpone this event. He fell asleep in the car on the way there (5 minutes), so we took him into the sporting goods store to liven him up a bit -- his sleep coma remained. We decided to forge out into the snow and wait our turn to see Santa, with the shiny new Chevy parked outside the gingerbread house. There really was no line, just us and the Chevy.

After a few moments, I rapped on the door (because, after all, this is a Christmas story), and Santa's grouchy, middle-aged elf, let's call her Sheila, came outside and snarled, "It'll be a few minutes!"

We hadn't planned to purchase photographs, given Sam's slight cold and physical torpor, but I knew that Sheila was really trying to say, "We have paying customers in here!" I told Matt to get his credit card ready.

We decided to walk across the street and grab two coffees and a hot chocolate while we waited. While in the store, Matt realized that Sam's gym shoes (I completely forgot to buy the child snow boots!) were caked in mud, which was now covering the floor of the Gelato boutique. I tipped the guy three dollars because I knew he'd be responsible for mopping after we left.

We could see the paying customers leaving Santa's house, dressed in red sweaters, smiling as snowflakes gently landed on their faces. We gave Sam's nose a good wiping and headed back to wonderland.

I'd dressed Sam like the little brother wearing all the winter gear in the movie A Christmas Story. Layers upon layers I'd layered, and it was beginning to hit me that this might be causing Sam's state-of-mind. "He's hot!" I said to my husband, and so right there in front of God and everyone (Santa, Sheila, two girls taking expensive photographs), I began stripping Sam down.

Sam had no interest in Santa after he'd told him about the big green gun and fishing pole that he wanted, but we tossed him on Santa's lap, anyway. Sheila tried using some kind of baby rattle to entice a smile from Sam, but he wasn't having it. "Snap, snap, snap!" Three horrible digital photographs. The girl turned her computer screen so that we could see how awful the photographs were, and she knocked my large coffee off the table, and onto Santa's floor.

Sheila seemed really pissed. We were down $11.00 at this point, and still had to buy a picture.

Sheila threw Matt and me into the frame along with Santa and Sam and yelled, "Smile!" We heard one more snap, and that was it. That was going to be our Christmas photograph, no matter what.

"It's terrible," Matt said, "We're not giving this to anyone!"

We shall not speak of this experience again.

Studying Keats

2010-11-21T11:21:00.002-05:00

It's a gray day, the Indiana gray that makes us all begin to deteriorate until Spring arrives. I've been writing a lot lately, 3 stories per day for my project. I love working! My hair has to be in a ponytail when I write, like the girl on Harry Potter. It helps me think, pulls out the ideas.

The house is quiet, and I've settled with a cup of green tea, and some Keats. I once knew Keats, I believe. I was once more romantic.

How many bards gild the lapses of time!
A few of them have ever been the food
Of my delighted fancy,—I could brood
Over their beauties, earthly or sublime:
And often, when I sit me down to rhyme,
These will in throngs before my mind intrude:
But no intrusion, no disturbance rude
Do they occasion; 'tis is a pleasing chime.
So the unnumber'd sounds that evening store
The song of birds—the whispering of the leaves—
The voice of waters—the great bell that heaves
With solemn sound—and thousand others more,
That distance of recognizance bereaves,
Making pleasing music, and not wild uproar.

Boyhood Games

2010-11-03T20:59:00.005-04:00

We had to fill out a sheet at Sam's school that his teacher posted on the bulletin board. It included our favorite foods, places we like to travel and things we like to "play." A lot of the other kids' moms wrote things like "Tag," "Get You," and "Hide-n-Seek."

Our list was similar, because I couldn't bring myself to list our real games:

Kill All the Bad Guys
Shoot the Enemy Dead
Gross You Out
I Think I Can Do This
Jump and Crash
Let Me Go

I swear we're good parents, I swear.

High School Reunion

2010-10-18T21:24:00.003-04:00

Saturday. 6 pm. Sunny. Gorgeous. I was dressed a little bit like Johnny Cash.

My friend Mary picked me up, and we planned to ditch her car and cab it home. She had a pile of cds in her car as she'd driven down from Chicago earlier that day. She said, "I brought my 'Jill' music." Tragically Hip, Cake, Liz Phair, some standards. I was impressed.

Really overheating in my black sweater.

We met up with four guys we've known since the 7th grade, our best buds, and we all piled into a small BMW (back in the day it was probably a large Toronado) and headed to the reunion. Mary said, "Grab that Tragically Hip cd!" Mary and I were sitting on the laps of our friends, and I handed the cd up to the driver, Dave, whom everyone knows. ; ) (Hip lyric.)

Mary said, "Jill, have him play that r o c k i n g song," and I'm thinking, "Um, um...they all are." She said, "That one. That one that makes you dance in your seat." So, I cleared my throat and said, "Dave, please, track 6."

We had the poor car speakers screaming as loudly as they could possibly go as we drove down the street listening to Locked in the Trunk of a Car.

We played it about 4 times ... I mean loudly ... I sat in the middle of the backseat with an itchy sweater and a huge smile on my face. I'm so easy.

Three of my guy friends said things like, "Who in the hell was that? That was f***ing fantastic." My friend, Alex, said, "....Jill's gift to every person she knows...The Tragically Hip."

I got home around 3:00 am.

Matt took Sam and let me sleep it off the entire next day. What a cool husband.

2010-09-30T19:27:00.002-04:00

Sam and I went to lunch this afternoon and Lauren was our waitress. She did a great job, and when she brought Sam free dessert, he said, "Oh... My... Gosh. This is delicious."

I took him to the park afterward, and there were two weirdo kids there, one who kept chasing Sam, and one who kept hitting him. The chaser was wearing a blue sweatshirt, and when Sam woke from his nap later at home, the first thing he said was, "That blue guy was chasing me."

But lately Sam uses "actually," "seriously," and "precarious" correctly in sentences. We never really talked baby-talk to Sam, and it shows. Matt was commenting last night on how he made a giant leap of maturity from age 2.5 to age 3.

On the way to school Monday he said, "Daddy really wants me to go surfing with him, but I don't want to use his big white surfboard, I want my own surfboard." I agreed. Sometimes he's scary smart. He listens to NPR on the way to and from school (16 miles round trip), and he's started repeating, or, better yet, commenting on the commentary!

In other news:

Jason came in 335th in the Madison, WI Ironman. Angie and I both took walks that day.

I went to Chicago for the weekend and danced in really super-high heels. I was able to walk again today, for the first time.

I contributed to the Democratic Party yesterday, and again today, because I want my voice to be heard.

Matt is buying another old Mercedes. That will be two in our driveway. My family thinks he may need psychological evaluation.

Kate is in the hospital again, and we all hate that very much. : (

Matt and Sam are going surfing in November. I mean, how cute is that?!

All for now.

I'm all tingley

2010-09-22T15:18:00.004-04:00

Sam went with me to my doctor's appointment yesterday for tennis elbow (caused not from playing tennis, but from landscaping every square-inch of our yard). My arm is so sore that it doesn't even seem like pain anymore, it just feels like a constant tingle. Not the kind of sense and sensibility that I'm used to.

Samuel has become a daredevil. Usually, when he is risking life and limb, either skateboarding or riding his Razor down the middle of the street (yeah, just turned 3 and has been really good on it for months!) -- oh, and now jumping on the trampoline -- we tell him to please be careful so we don't have to go to the hospital.

He started blending the words "doctor" and "hospital," and came up with the term "hot doctor," asking us if that was where he'd end up if he didn't wear a helmet.

We were the first ones at the doctor's office yesterday. People began filing in, the nursing staff busily preparing for their day, and Sam said with almost an echo, "Are we seeing your hot doctor, Mommy?"

There were plenty of snickers and chuckles, and I gasped out an "Oh, honey, yes, we're here to see the doctor, not the hospital doctor..." but the damage had been done.

I'm sure the staff told my doctor, who actually is a pretty handsome man. : )

We are still recouping from the birthday bash. Matt did a terrific job getting the trampoline up (after... 6 hours? haha), and every single beautiful Spiderman cupcake disappeared. Matt bought me my second original painting from a local artist that I love, and even stopped at Sakura and picked up soft shell crab for me. What a man.

I start physical therapy for my arm next week. Ugh out.

The last 4 digits

2010-09-03T19:06:00.003-04:00

I just found myself at Lowe's on a Friday night. I was buying wood filler, charcoal, Folex carpet cleaner, and about to have an out-of-body experience. I realized that I know the last 4 digits of our credit card (7143) without looking.

I felt depressed.

I came home and found Matt cleaning the car (the earth's axis tipping simultaneously), and Sam running down to me, yelling, "I wanna ride in there with you!" So I did our favorite thing to freak out our neighbors, besides that thing where we walk around with full wine glasses: I allowed Sam to climb in on my lap, and we did a quick tour around the neighborhood in our cool Volvo stationwagon...with no seatbelts!

The year of living dangerously.

But I found a new street, one we'd never ventured down before, where people were outside with beers in their hands, and they were dressed well! A couple of them smiled and laughed when they saw my blonde bombshell driving the car, and for that brief moment I was filled with hope.

Tomorrow I'm planning a full-on escapade. We're going to walk down that street and talk to people.

The Red Balloon

2010-08-25T20:36:00.003-04:00

I almost forgot that I had a blog.

Sam and I shopped for his Spiderman birthday party supplies today, and I bought him a big, red helium balloon at his request. Last night we read the French book, The Red Balloon, that I remember from my childhood. It's really some of the best photography I've ever seen, as the red balloon follows young Pascal around Paris. Sam loved the book (apple not falling far), so it made sense for him to say, "Please, Mommy, a red balloon."

Sam's red balloon disappeared into the afternoon sky after he went in the backyard (by himself) to water the flowers midday. He came inside bawling, the words so meek that he could hardly get them out. I said, "Honey, what is it...what is it?" "My...my...BALL...oooooon." The sadness was unbearable.

Later, after he'd calmed down, he explained how the balloon was up in the sky with the baseballs that he's hit over the fence, and that it's following people around town. (If you're unfamiliar with A. LaMorisse's The Red Balloon, might I suggest it.)

This, my (nearly) three-year-old. As Debbie put it: He's going to do very well in school.

I returned to the store later and bought him another red balloon...and a blue one, too, just because I love him so much.

Gingery

2010-07-06T18:35:00.003-04:00

Sam and I went to our local water park today in Hamilton County, the freebie one where I don't have to deal with so many kids, like at the Monon Center. There were lots of pretentious kid names there, my favorite being Carlson, and my least favorite being, ok, I'll do this phonetically, "Aa-ahna." Aahnna. That's a name? Apparently it is, because the mom wouldn't stop saying it. These are my least favorite types of moms: those who name their kids pretentious names and then say them loudly in public so we can all get familiar with them.

"Carlson, Carlson, take that diaper off your head and put it back onto your sister!"

"Aahnna, come here! Aahnna, Aahnna, I'm going to count to three!"

Sam and I just do our thing. I never yell (certainly never in public) because there is no need.

So, we played most of the day and then I painted the dining room. It was already painted, but not to my specifications, so I did it again. I'm loving decorating this new house, and I'm very excited to finally go back to work someday very soon doing what I've always wanted to do: decorating! I can never again sit at a desk, ever, ever, ever.

Ah ha, Matt is home and off for a run in this 90 degree heat. I still have the color "Gingery" on my knees and elbows. The sign of a good woman. In fact, our handyman told me last week that I'm extraordinary. Kind of creepy, to tell ya the truth.

Planting the new house

2010-06-21T20:31:00.004-04:00

I touched a cat tonight. I'll never do that again. I have welts all over my arms from the vile creature. Truthfully, I like cats, but I can't be near them, so I hate them.

Jason rode his bicycle from Ft. Wayne to Indy to surprise my dad for Father's Day. 120 miles, that crazy nut. He's a machine; he's always been a machine. At age 5 I saw those machine eyes. I run 3 miles up hill and I feel accomplished. Phooey. He was sitting on the couch at my dad's when we arrived, drinking a beer, all "Hey guys." He's lucky we still speak to him.

Of late, I chopped down a Hawthorne tree; hack-sawed a crab apple tree; helped plant the weeping cherry that Sam and I got Matt for Father's Day; stood on a ladder whacking bushes; planted rhododendruns, hibiscus and tons of perennial flowers, and I'm just getting started.

Chabon

2010-06-03T20:31:00.003-04:00

Wow, a free moment.

Just got back from sunny, wonderful California. A little different this time, but still great. Sam surfed with Matt at Newport Beach. There is little this boy won't try, doesn't know, or doesn't figure out in about 2 minutes. He not only talks in complete sentences, but complete concepts, too. His grandparents were amazed at his progess since last time.

I'm unpacking boxes in our new house, and reading Michael Chabon's new book on fatherhood. If there is one person I'm allowed to be in love with besides Matt, it's Michael. Matt is allowed to love the spokeswoman for Electrolux (at least she's blonde); I would never settle for an actor...gotta be a writer. Every word of Chabon draws me in.

We're busy growing a garden, playing with Nerf guns, and I bought Sam his first (as if there will be many) sword yesterday. Life is pretty simple. Matt is proving to be the best dad ever. I mean, really, he's pretty darn good.

I'm so sick of airplanes, layovers and flatulence surrounding me with no hope of an escape. God, it's a long way to Cali. We're tired (except Sam!) and must go to sleep early.

Photo Booth Shots

2010-05-02T15:11:00.008-04:00

John & Jaquie's wedding in Florida last year...I particularly like the one where John is kissing me and Matt is trying to run a block. : )

Scream Machine

2010-04-26T22:31:00.004-04:00

Met with the contractor, the electrician, the flooring guy, the butcher, baker and candlestick maker all today. I'm loving this. Matt shakes his head at my decorating budget.

We let Sam scream it out tonight because he won't go to sleep in his bed. I've been dealing with it since Matt's been visiting his mom in the hospital, so he was on duty tonight. I had to go outside and do yoga in the yard so I didn't have to hear him screaming for me. An episode of Super Nanny! It's so hard, but we have to do it. At least I keep hearing that from others. God, I hate to hear that cutie pie cry.

We all watched UP tonight. I teared-up, of course. Love my boys.

A Moment

2010-04-17T17:19:00.004-04:00

Sam told me that he walked through "waddy mutters" today in his Crocs. I used to say "rabby barrit" for bunny rabbit when I was his age.

He's on a Spiderman kick.

We move into our new house in T minus 34 days. I've been on weekly decorating binges, my absolute favorite pasttime. Matt buys something from Miller Nurseries online every week, too. We're a good mix.

There's so much going on, so little time; I read books in front of the oven at night, usually while I'm stirring someting, trying to keep up.

My writer buddy invented the best name: The MELP.

Gord Downie has a new record coming out. Ahh. I emailed him on his birthday - he spent it cleaning closets with his kids. So respectable.

I hear Sam's footsteps coming down the hallway...

Fantastic Day

2010-03-22T17:47:00.006-04:00

Yesterday, what a day. I began by running 2 miles then swimming a mile; it was my mom's birthday; I played outside with my 2 sweeties; we put an offer in on a new house, and the health care bill passed the Senate. Avengers of change!

Change is frightening, I guess for some, but I can't see past those 32,000,000 (so many zeros!) people who will now not live in fear of visiting a goddamned doctor. It's time people stopped rocking in their front porch rocking chairs wondering what's on the other side of the hill (or in Indiana, the street). It's called the world: better wake up and join it.

For my single-mother friends raising kids alone; for the people I know who lacked sufficient coverage or had pre-existing conditions; for my friend who died at age 24 from testicular cancer because he couldn't afford health insurance; and for my dad who, by proxy, visited him several times in the hospital, even though he'd never met him, simply because I couldn't bare to see a friend waste away, this day was for you.

And as for the Republican naysayers, you can kiss my grits.

Rent the Rug Doctor

2010-03-14T19:45:00.003-04:00

Swam 1.25 miles today, which doesn't sound like a lot more than 1 mile, but it was an additional 8 laps, down and back (16 laps). I was feeling competitive with Speedo Girl next to me, who was actually a much better swimmer...at first. She gave up at a mile, so, of course, I had to continue.

I need to find a new swim cap that holds all of this hair! I pulled it off several times during my swim, and I tried to swim without it, but so much hair in my eyes. Finally, I pulled it over my head leaving my locks flowing out the bottom, kind of like a mullet. I looked like a pro, for sure.

I've noticed that swimmer girls have short hair. Me no like short hair. Moms also have short hair. I like throwing it all into a ponytail, which I suppose means I should just cut it all off. But no way.

I went to Walmart today (God, I hate that place) to buy a small swimming pool for Gertie to run around in once in a while. I asked a lady who worked there for help. She said, and I'm NOT kidding. "That's a great idea. Maybe I should buy one to use as a littler box for my possum" (Or is that opossum?). She told me that it was blind in one eye. I ran to my car... fast.

I Rug-Doctored the entire house today, too...just for fun. Matt just handed me a glass of wine, he's cooking dinner, and Sam's hanging onto me hoping to watch Youtube. Life's good!

Swim Fatigue

2010-03-09T15:50:00.002-05:00

I ran three miles yesterday, and swam a mile today. Sam and I both took 2-hr naps today. My brother told me to buy blue goggles, after I bought black ones. I like them, they're very clear, but both of my eyes look bruised after I've worn them for a while. You can't swim and plan on going anywhere important right afterward. My swim cap won't stay on because of the mass of hair I have, either. I need to work out these kinks.

Swimming kicks my butt, and I love it. Back Thursday.

New Sport

2010-03-07T16:58:00.004-05:00

I pulled out my old one-piece swimsuit last night and tried it on for Matt. Some laughter followed. It's at least 15-years-old (maybe more) because, who wears a one-piece? Well, I do now that I'm swimming at the gym! I ran 4 miles yesterday, and that glistening 5-lane lap pool was calling me. I bought some new black swim goggles and a black cap last night to match my 15-year old black suit. Matt said, "You look really cool."

Well, I did look pretty cool once I was swimming. As my brother says, "Muscles have memory." I swam 3/4 of a mile, which is no small feat after at least a 10-year hiatus from serious swimming (splashing around with Sam at the Monon Center and drinking margaritas in Matt's parents' pool notwithstanding).

I loved it. I swam pretty fast; swam right past the girl who chose to wear her bikini, right past the lady who swam with her head out of the water and never once cupped her hands. My heart was racing...and no sweat! I'm thinking a Masters competition is in my future. I wish I liked riding bicycles (I really don't), because maybe a triathlon for this old lady is in order. I must always keep up with Jason.

My two new favorite words from Sam: Lassy Tappy (Laffy Taffy) and Dunk Trup (Dump Truck).

Ma Bell

2010-03-03T15:03:00.003-05:00

Sam's sick, asleep on the couch. I've already done a million things today and I found a free moment. "Well, hello, free moment," I said, and then WHAM! The phone rang. Every afternoon, right at the start of my free moment, the phone rings.

I hate the phone. I want the phone out of the house. I never answer the phone.

We have a new gerbil named Gertie. Sam's a little fearful, and he says, "Tiny toenails, tiny toenails!" She's really Matt's pet (oh, man, I thought I was!).

She's asleep in the cage next to me.

I'm unplugging all of the phones and going to greet that free moment with a smile.

All in the sauce

2010-03-02T18:17:00.004-05:00

I'm cooking stuffed chicken with homemade bechamel sauce, drinking a glass of champange... and it's only Tuesday.

Matt and I celebrated two years married (five years total), and I'm sitting here thinking that life's pretty grand. I consider every other relationship such a waste of time, but that's because I hadn't met Matt yet. We all make stupid mistakes, I just dated more than he did. : )

I've found a friend in the neighborhood who can transfer old videos onto DVDs, so we've been having some fun with this! Except that I learned that Sam's first birthday party DVD wasn't properly formatted, and blank thusly (nonstandard variant, just like 'thusly'). Matt just shakes his head at me.

Man, this champagne is spectacular.

I'm planning my next trip, planning my next trip, gotta go, gotta travel, planning my next trip. Matt just went to Miami Beach (rotgut, been there a hundred times), but I'm focusing on the magnificent. I also have enough miles on my credit card to go around the world...maybe twice. I've NEVER used my miles. I'm sickeningly patient. But no more waiting. And no more jaunts to Chicago or DC...I'm over those. I want Europe. I want Envoy Class and Five Stars. I want a captain, a chef and a maid, a sommelier, five-course meals and champagne for breakfast.

Oh golly gee damn!

I want to go put my arms around my sick little boy, and stir my bechamel sauce, keep dreaming...

Careful

2010-02-28T15:33:00.000-05:00

I'm easily amused.

Ooh, ooh Dreamweaver

2010-02-15T17:27:00.002-05:00

I'm sitting at my desk watching the snow fall, which is what I feel like I've been doing for about 6 months. Next time I'm heading East into a blizzard, I'll heed the advice from which I usually run.

Evan Bayh isn't running for re-election? Jon Stewart's analogy of the Republicans moving to the next grade while the Democrats are stuck in the nurse's office with their balls glued to their legs could have some validity.

If I hear Jack Johnson one more time I'm gonna puke. It's true, children love Jack. Sam turns it on and turns it UP by himself now. He calls it "Cool loud." Here we go...

I was thinking, if Jesus had children, besides all the children of the world, and he took them to work on "Take your kids to work day," would it really be "Take your children to Jesus" day?

We took Fredders to the Rathskeller, the place where we had our first date (5 years ago!!) on Valentine's Day. That was a great day to have a first date with the guy I ended up marrying.

Yesterday, after I yelled at Sam for...well, something I can't even remember now, he said, "I'm mad." I asked, "At me?" He said, "Yes, Sammy is mad because you pushed me." I said, "Well honey, thank you for telling me."

Sam slept in his big boy bed for the first time last night and he did GREAT. I'm so proud.

I bought the program Dreamweaver. I'm gonna teach myself. I'm a quick study. Help pass the winter...

California!

2010-01-14T16:07:00.006-05:00

We just returned from sunny, best weather in the country, SoCal. We missed the snow here, missed the bitter edge, hung out on the beach watching Matt surf on his new board. He's amazing...ahh. Sam got his first taste of whale watching off of Balboa Island...he's quite the natural seafarer.

And what are we watching now that we're back? The Backyardigans' Surf's Up!

New Year's Day

2010-01-01T12:29:00.002-05:00

It's that day again, that calendar date that says, "Let's try this again..." The day when people budget for their new gym membership, only to quit by mid-February.

As Sam gets older, creeping into ownership of his own thoughts and actions, I'm trying to decide what I want to do with ME, for ME, next. For someone who was once told, "You're independent to a fault!" I can say that motherhood and marriage have had their challenges. Not because I don't love them, but because I feel that I've given up my identity and dreams in order to make sure lunch is on the table each day for Sam, piping hot and nutritious. It gets tedious.

I was thinking last night, as I was dancing to the band at the Doherty's party, how I've probably seen over 700 live shows in my lifetime. At least. I was dreaming about the day soon when I'll buy a last-minute ticket to Paris, or fly out to see my favorite band play the Fillmore in SF. When I can be a little more like the old Jill, resting assured that Matt and Sam are waiting for me back at the ranch. That is what a good marriage and a good life are all about: having time to be yourself along the way. I'm very lucky to have the support system that I do, a husband who says, "You're great at everything you do - go do it!"

And as for New Year's Resolutions: we are buying a treadmill for the house! God, we're so suburban.

My Calling

2009-12-16T14:36:00.003-05:00

I'm so proud of my hubby: General Counsel! He's generally very intelligent, and incredibly deserving. Wow, he's amazing.

Sam's on day #5 with a fever. I had to hold him down and administer Amoxicillin today. Ugh, hate doing that. He's missing school this week because of it, and then out for two weeks vacation. Calgon!

We're off to California in two weeks, but first: Christmas with the Brookses this weekend! I get to play hostess again, hooray! I have all of the wine glasses lined up already. It's my calling, what can I say?

Another Brooks Blog

2009-12-05T18:23:00.002-05:00

Jason's at it now.

http://jbrooks2010.blogspot.com/2009/12/2nd-saturday-workout.html

In the Dining Room with a Chair...

2009-11-23T11:22:00.006-05:00

I also bought a new dining room table and chairs "for Thanksgiving" while Matt was away surfing. I had it set up for him, and said, "Hi, honey, look what arrived when you were gone!"

My friend Mimi said that she once did this, but that she didn't tell her husband. It took him 6 months to notice.

Matt loves them, so I'm safe.

What's for Lunch

2009-11-23T11:07:00.004-05:00

Sam's teacher once told me, "Your child comes to school with the best lunches! All of the teachers like to see what he has." I told her that this was mostly my husband's doing, that he's a gourmand dressed in a lawyer's button-down. But I do feel the pressure now. Sam's never had a "regular" hotdog, not yet. Only organic and uncured (again, mostly Matt's influence). He hates PB&J.

Today, in his lunchbox, I served him roasted pork tenderloin with raspberry confit, glazed carrots, fresh green beans and grapes. I think I may start including a menu just for laughs. ; )

I sent my family a spreadsheet for Thanksgiving (also for laughs) on how the day will "go down", and I've made out my entire schedule at home for my workload. For example, tomorrow at 5:00PM, I begin by brining my bird (oh, I love when alliteration comes together so unexpectedly), and the list goes on from there...

Today, I rest, especially since Sam woke at 5:30. Matt and I are closing in on trying each beaujolais nouveau.

Lucky 13

2009-11-22T10:18:00.002-05:00

I spent all of yesterday shopping for Thanksgiving, the first official Thanksgiving where I'll be the hostess, and not just the person who brings wine. But I can't take all the credit, as most of the side dishes will be brought by other participants in the family. Thank God.

I bought a turkey at one store, a ham at another, Williams Sonoma for cheese cloth, and even made a trip to Crate & Barrel for more dishes and two more place settings of silverware. We had 10, but need at least 12.

Matt and I have the same silverware he once had, before his ex burglarized his place. When I told him that we now have 12 settings, he reminded me that we have 13 forks: when his ex stole everything, she forgot to check the dishwasher, where one lonely fork remained.

Matt said, "That punctuated our entire relationship." Lucky 13!

I'm a kindred spirit of the girl practicing for Thanksgiving in the Target commercial. I'd love to invite her to our feast and get her opinion.

The Men In My Life

2009-11-13T18:44:00.003-05:00

Matt loves the ocean and I love the sky, but we both love the movement of life. Stagnation wears us down. There's so much out there to see...

My dad and I were chatting the other day and discovered that besides Mr. Flood's Party (his favorite poem by Edward Arlington Robinson) and Advice to My Son (my favorite poem by Peter Meinke), our second-favorite poems are The Ruined Cottage (Wordsworth, my dad), and Ode to Immortality (Wordsworth, me).

Sam and I both love singing, and catching spiders.

Eh, Just Bag the Leaves

2009-11-10T14:41:00.003-05:00

Matt's back from Rincon and Sam and I welcomed him with a rake. We missed him a lot though, and he's a bit bruised and bloody from scraping against coral several times. He called me every night from some cool bar that Esquire voted one of the best bars in the world, sipping his margarita and watching the sunset. I was sincerely happy for him. A few days of absence makes us live large on love soon after.

I had a fun-filled week of going out for dinner and drinks almost every night he was gone. I really do not miss the crowds at Sullivan's or Ruth's Chris. Yuck. So not my thing...

Sam and I delivered all of our food to Gleaners Food Bank from our food drive last week. Sam was thrilled about all of it, and I can tell that he's a giver at heart. He gave an old man one of his crackers today at Target, and the man said, "What a good boy - that's a good sign." Sam's the best.

I helped serve food to 200 homeless men on Sunday (while Matt was home cooking our London Broil) at the Wheeler Mission. Talk about putting it all into perspective. I went with my dad and brother, Nick. I would like to say that it was a fantastic experience, but it was a rather sad experience, overall. I'm going again this Sunday, though, and Matt's going soon, too. I felt very nervous and shy being there, but my dad and Nick are anything but nervous or shy, so Nick got me playing Jenga with a couple of the guys, and it turned out to be fun. I had to hold back my competitive nature when the poor old man got Jenga-ed...I was hoping to let him win. He was very smart, but I think he'd suffered a stroke at some point in life. He told us about once taking a jet with a friend from Florida to West Virginia, and how he once went scuba diving (scuba dove?) in Key West. It was nice connecting about life outside the mission - I told him that I went diving in Grenada and got very, very seasick. Nick is an incredibly mature young man - he made me so proud. : )

No joke: I've bagged over 50 large (paper) lawn bags, and the maples are still going... I'm in great shape, though, and an elderly neighbor lady yelled over to me today: You have great posture! That made me laugh.

Sufing vs. French Fries

2009-11-04T18:03:00.003-05:00

My husband is surfing in Rincon, Puerto Rico, and I miiiiiiiiiiss him. It is a great feeling to miss your husband, who hasn't raked but one bag of leaves all fall. We've been texting and calling each other constantly, like those dating people do. You've seen them, sitting in a bar constantly smiling, texting, receiving texts, texting, receiving texts. That's dating.

Sam definitely notices that he's missing, and says, "Daddy home..." a lot during the day. He even napped on Matt's pillow this afternoon.

Matt said he's been surfing with a lady from New Jersey, and I said, "Have fun!" I doubt he got such coolness from marriage #1. ; )~

Took Sam for his first official hair trim today (still long, still looks kinda like a girl), and then to the Gap for some clothes and Cheesecake Factory for lunch. Big suburban day!

Milling About

2009-10-15T14:42:00.005-04:00

Poor Sam fell this morning, just before school, cut his lip with blood gushing everywhere. It's a hard-knock life when you have to take Motrin for pain at 7AM.

Matt and I met for lunch (a rare treat) at Pancho's authentic Mexican restaurant, then I met my favorite writer friend for coffee at Monon. I'm beginning to really like school days...some time off for good behavior.

Good thing I didn't go to Hubbards & Cravens this afternoon, so I heard. Yikes.

Being around a writer makes me want to write. Time to dabble in some fiction...

Oh, my, it's October 15th!

Ripple Night

2009-10-08T17:38:00.002-04:00

Me mum's in town all week, so I've found my feet propped up a lot more often. Matt and I are having another date tonight...hooray. Hitting Ripple, and hopefully meeting up with Mary and her 3 brothers later.

Sam's school sent a letter home saying, "We're going to start working on potty training." I read it in the classroom and told his teacher: No need, it's done. I loved how her mouth dropped (especially since Sam's the youngest in the class). My mom can't believe how Sam helps cook every meal. You think I'm kidding. He is so incredible, just like I knew he would be.

Ask Sam what you do with mushrooms and he answers, "sauté mushrooms." Classic.

Off to my date!

Dating Again...

2009-10-06T23:05:00.002-04:00

Matt and I went running together on this windy, balmy night. All elements point to the romantic. Matt with his flashlight and pepper spray (I'm kidding, I made him leave it home), and me whistling Dixie. No two people have ever been so opposite, and gotten along so well.

My mom is here all week from sunny Florida (she's lying around reading books, asking us how we live in such cold), and Sam is loving the bonus attention. He's potty trained (except not completely at night) and he's only been two for two weeks. Not only does he go in the potty, but then he flushes it all down the big potty, and cleans it out with water. Everyone just shakes their head in amazement.

Matt and I had a great date last weekend: St. Elmo's and Nicky Blaine's, and it makes me miss living downtown. Oh, the stories I have about downtown... Wow, several just came to mind. I think back to Matt courting me in my downtown flat while he was still living at Geist. I still cherish that entire time in our lives. Up, down (sneak, sneak), bad, good, great. I knew the minute I saw Matt that we'd be riding out a few storms together. Don't all the romantic relationships begin in crisis?

Going out Thusday night on another date while grandmom stays with Sam. Matt and I are dating again, and I love it! It's good to date your husband. He's leaving for Puerto Rico soon to surf. I gave him permission to surf with the hottest blonde babe he can find, just so he doesn't surf alone. I noticed "Surfing" magazine show up in our post today - he's a kid - I love it.

I'm planning a trip back out to Colorado, and gonna try to catch the Hip...maybe in Dallas. I really hate Texas, but I must do what I must do when completely committed to music.

Loving life, and currently decorating Sam's big boy room.

The Adorable Factor

2009-08-31T16:55:00.006-04:00

If it were not for my husband's charm and good looks, I might think he was rather an oddball. The Adorable Factor takes him far.

To wit, he will not sleep with any sheet/pillow/blanket/comforter that is not white. White, I tell you. I bought very nice cappuccino-colored sheets, which he hated, and when we were drifting off to sleep, he said, "I can almost feel the brown in these..."

Today I bought an artsy, chocolate duvet, and since he hates most things French (except French wine, which he wisely loves), namely things brown and French, he's going to have an absolute fit when he sees it. (Definitely when he feels it.)

That damn duvet smelled like hell out of its plastic casing. So horrible, that I tossed it in the dryer for 30 minutes with a stack of Bounce. Still smells bad. I sprayed some air freshener in our bedroom to disguise it. The only kind I had: French Vanilla.

He and I had a cook-off yesterday. We spent the entire day in the kitchen, taking turns watching Sam. We had so many leftovers today that I had my dad over for lunch to help eat them.

Birthday month starts tomorrow! September is so gorgeous.

Shots and Themed Parties

2009-08-26T18:33:00.003-04:00

I called Sam's pediatrician this morning to get his updated medical profile for school, but they refused to send one until I brought him back in for more shots. Our pediatrician is very good, very old school, but she doesn't realize who she's messing with. She wanted to give him 4 shots, and was quite surprised when I said, "No thanks." He got another Dip-Tet, only because I loved the tender way Francis McDormand spoke of it on Raising Arizona. I'll take my sweet time getting him another.

Because he was such a brave boy, I took him to McDonald's, and just like the last time that I treated him to McDonald's (for his last shot, whenever that was), he hated it. Sam is a veggie eater. He prefers broccoli to hotdogs, edamame to chicken nuggets. I'd say about 75% of his diet is true organic (the FDA has changed the requirements for "organic," so don't be fooled), and he's on the 95th percentile for height! And get this: he loves brushing his teeth.

Matt took him to the grocery, and I'm home alone for a bit. Time bandit. Matt's going to whip up something for dinner, and when you ask Sam if he wants to help Daddy cook, he replies, alongside a nod, with: Sea Salt. He sits high on a bar chair next to Matt, close to the oven, and they cook away.

One thing I must mention, because I get so carried away with my devotion to Samuel, is that I have the absolute best husband. I do. Matt makes me laugh even if we're arguing. He's an amazing dad and an amazing person, and he saved his company $10,000,000 last week because he's also brilliant!

And, Matt and I are equally addicted to the Backyardigans. We sing the songs in our heads all day, and Matt will come home from work saying, "Damn the Backyardigans, damn them all." We all sit on the bed together and watch at least one episode a day, for our health.

I'm planning Sam's second birthday party. It will, of course, be hosted by Pablo and Tasha. I've given into my first "theme," damn it all to hell, something I said I'd never do! We're going to have an Elsie, Ella and Elle at the party, just to add more chaos.

But I do make the most amazing treat bags. : )

Terrible Twos

2009-08-17T19:28:00.004-04:00

I'm supposed to be writing an article right now; I'm supposed to be editing a novella; instead, here I am.

Sam wrote on my computer screen today with a pen. I Googled it immediately, and I got it out with Colgate toothpaste and a baby wipe, so Sam can remain living here. He's really entered the Terrible Two's lately, testing me and finding that last button to push each hour. I have no idea how anyone with children can work from home - it's impossible. Oh, but he's so darn gorgeous (I'm his mom, I can think this all I want); I forgive him easily.

Everyone who meets him thinks that he's three, and he's not even two. He's freakishly tall. Everyone stops to say hello to him, comments on his "pretty" blonde hair or big blues. Friends tell me all the time to get him into modeling. I dunno. I don't want a stuck-up kid, or a kid that worries about his looks all the time, or spends hours in front of a mirror. I want a kid who plays in mud and rides horses, like the kid I've got! Matt especially doesn't want him "modeling" because vanity pushes him over the edge...but maybe we could pay for his college? : )

Eh, I'll think about it. So much going on right now. Angie & Ev are living in Atlanta now (soooooo much cooler than Florida). I'm going down there soon. Matt and I are both so busy we're ready to scream, but we love it at the same time. I cannot believe how much I accomplish in one day. And no more desk jobs! Whoo-hoo! God, I could never be an attorney - I'd blow my brains out. I need freedom and rhythm.

Matt's going surfing in Puerto Rico, and I'm gonna go on my own jaunt. Then, well, big plans for us. More soon on that!

Westward Ho

2009-07-26T16:24:00.002-04:00

We had another superb vacation with our traveling toddler. We loved Colorado Springs and the Broadmoor - wow. I truly could live with the Royal Family and feel quite adequate. I love Sterling tea sets and sugar cubes. ; )

We hiked and toured all over the place; I especially liked Manitou Springs, a little artsy village at the foot of Pikes Peak. Boulder was gorgeous and Denver too - it'd had been a while since I visited those parts. Still not sure how or why the University of Colorado is CU, but I'm sure they have class outside there a lot.

Last night, Matt and I drank wine and talked in our hotel bathroom while Sam slept in his wee crib. We were laughing at how much life changes once you have a little one, but we really enjoy including him and taking him everywhere. He's already had so many life experiences, and he's not even 2!

Girls Weekend

2009-07-19T10:59:00.005-04:00

Were my friends surprised that I drank nearly 2 bottles of wine by myself at Girls' Weekend at the lake? Not really. It's always fun cruising on a zip-line with a couple of drinks in me, too. Marta's place is amazing. What a nice getaway, and a lot of talking about hair products. ; )

We're off to Colorado this week for some serious hiking and viewing. I love my new Keen kicks - I could sleep in them. I love being a tomboy.

Just watched my friend Melissa's 9-yr-old daughter in the Ironkids triathlon. I'm jealous. I'm going for a run now...

We joined the Monon Center today, too! Looking forward to watching Sam glide down the "slow river."

Sports, sports and more sports.

Article about my brother, Jason

2009-07-12T11:09:00.002-04:00

http://www.news-sentinel.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090710/SPORTS/907100321

New Book Assignment

2009-06-22T18:22:00.001-04:00

I finally got it today! Argh, not allowed to talk about it yet. I can say this: it will take a year to do, and I'm the sole author - right on!

Dad was right: the money will follow...

Writing and Rain

2009-06-14T10:37:00.002-04:00

I feel disciplined. I'm trying to write at least 400 words a day, and the story is developing. It's still inchoate, but the characters are coming together, because I already know them.

Wonderful is writing. Wonderful is Matt, who lets me write. He and Sam are at the saddle barn right now; Sam's on Rooster, his favorite pony.

One hell of a rainy spring.

California!

2009-05-17T19:47:00.003-04:00

We're off for a week, and Matt and I get some time alone. Hooray! We're going to take Sam to San Diego one day, and I think Matt and I are heading up to the Hearst Castle. I'm thrilled. I'm tired, need wine. G'night.

Art Museum

2009-05-12T19:10:00.002-04:00

I had the best Mother's Day! Matt always makes sure that Sam is included, that it's mostly "Sam's idea" for every little thing. I'm still smiling, and it's Tuesday!

This and That

2009-04-03T20:58:00.003-04:00

I have a new secret blog somewhere else, but I'll keep this one alive too, for my peeps.

Matt's friend is getting married at the Fort Lauderdale Yacht Club in a coupla weeks. We're trying to think of a funny way to send him a fake "message" from this yucky girl he once hooked up with in college, just to freak him out before he takes his vows. Matt tells me the stories and I shudder.

Love

2009-02-08T20:44:00.003-05:00

My God, Matt and I did laugh at "Appalachian Emergency Room" on Saturday Night Live. It was just ... so real.

Sam is beginning to sound out a lot of words, and he studies things with true intent and concentration. He's a smart little guy, and so sweet. When we put him to bed, we hug him and hum a little sing-song: Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm. Now he does it too. We do group hugs a lot too.

I went running tonight and I was thinking about Sam the entire time, thinking about something funny he did today. I giggled and said aloud, "My sweetie!" then looked around to make sure no one had heard me.

It's almost our wedding anniversary, and Matt and I just celebrated our fourth year together. How wonderful is love.

Cracker

2009-02-07T19:47:00.006-05:00

Written Any Good Books Lately?

2009-02-07T15:14:00.007-05:00

I unofficially have my second book deal. They're drawing up the paperwork now. I love the company, love the people already. I can write at the office, at home, on the moon, doesn't matter. I'm so excited, and the subject of the project is captivating, historical and moving.

I'm on a cloud right now. Matt took Sam out for the day so that I can begin research. I got in a half hour of banjo, too. : )

The Taj Mahal

2009-02-04T19:15:00.006-05:00

So, I spend at least 20 mintues a day on the current zeitgeist Facebook! It's ridiculous. I have an interview with the publishing company on Friday, and I'm really hoping to be writing again soon ... and getting paid for it. It's looking very positive, and they are a growing company, and publish lots of books.

I took Matt to see the band Cracker last night in the intimate setting of a couple's home in Meridian Kessler. This is the 4th band they've had play at their home, and with only 60 people there, it was pretty spectacular. Matt said it was the best birthday gift he ever got. He had such a good time, and he's really been enjoying meeting so many people lately. He likes my choices in friends. We hung out with David Lowry and Johnny Hickman, and I was right back in my element!

Speaking of elements, Mary, Monique and I are going to see the Hip in Chicago in May. : )

I took Sam to the library today, where there was this self-righteous, caucasian geek "library" mom with two kids, to whom she paid no attention. Every now and again she'd go looking for them, and she would literally cluck her tongue, and they would answer in cluck. This was their call. My brother does this great whippoorwill call (as a joke) to his kids when they're hiking in the woods and he knows exactly where they are. Matt and I adopted this, also as a joke. But this woman was serious as a heart attack, and terribly awkward.

I'd say that her kids were around the ages of 4 and 8, and she kept bringing her little girl books on India, saying, "Look, sweetie, this is the taj mahal -- look at it. I said, look at it!" Instead, the little tike prefered taking things out of Sam's hands, and running around with a sweet little black girl whose parent had also left her. The sweet girl was well behaved, not creepy, and she shared with Sam and asked me where his sister was. Eek.

The mom came clucking for her weirdo little taj mahal-hater, and yelled at the little black girl right in front of me, shouting, "I'm going to say this. You do NOT yell or run in a library!" and then went clucking off to find her daughter, who'd run away yelling.

I tell ya.