hanging with drew!

Nathan and I hung out with Drew, the coolest person I know. She made some delicious vegan foods like grilled asparagus and seasoned tofu and pasta salad.

I should mention that the original photo above showcased way more of Drew's cleavage, so I did a re-shoot. However, if I were the subject of this photo, I would welcome any coverage my boobs receive. After breastfeeding a hulking child, bad boob press is good boob press. Actually, any boob press is good boob press. When I talk, I make it a point to gesture wildly toward my chest, as if my hands are saying, "Hello! My eyes are down here!!"

no meat for old mona

Last week, I took a radical step and cut dairy and meat out of my diet completely.

Long before that move, I had been experiencing varying levels of crappiness--from end of the workday fatigue to what it must be like to wear Rachel Ray's underwear as a ski mask (for 30 minutes! Blecch!). My schedule is tight and goes like this: I wake up between 5:30 and 6, get ready, and make Nathan's breakfast. Then I make breakfast, let the eagles soar, dress and run out the door to catch the bus. After work, I come home to a little boy who wants to eat chicken nuggets and be read Where The Wild Things Are. And then there's Nathan!

I am exhausted by this time and this early evening lethargy cancels out any hopeful plan I had that morning like, "Hey, maybe when Nathan goes to sleep, I'll go to the gym!" or "Hey, maybe when Nathan goes to sleep, I'll catch up on my correspondence!" But sadly, when I put Nathan to bed, I fall asleep, too.

I know my diet is a huge factor. Groundbreaking, right? All those powdered and dried pasta sides and chemically-engineered tater tots are affecting me, turning me into the female version of Chunk from The Goonies because my body jiggles so much that every step I take is the Truffle Shuffle.

In this past week of eating bean burritos with avocado, tomatoes, cucumber and tofutti sour cream, baked potatoes with salsa and kashi cereal and soy milk, I have noticed significant changes. My energy level has skyrocketed. I can stay up past 8 PM! No more asking Mike what happened in the last five minutes of CSI Miami!

I have attempted and failed at diets in the past, as is my pattern with many novelty experiments, like the time in eighth grade when I decided to become a reggae singer, but quickly realized that I didn't want to sing reggae, I just wanted a legitimate reason to shout in public: LAWDA MERCY!

But this time I'm not looking at this as a diet or even as a "lifestyle" change. Every time I have the chance to eat, it's a simple question: Will this make me feel crappy? I'd rather spend three dollars on an avocado than on a burger, fries and shake (even though in the dark crevices of my brain, I am screaming, "WHAT THE HELL WHOLE FOODS?!? THREE DOLLARS FOR A DIGGITY DANG AVOCADO?").

I am fortunate to live in a city where there are a plethora of vegan options. I'm probably going to go buy Veganomicon (thanks Ashley) because there are 118 holds on the cookbook at the public library. Though, since I am still Seattle's fattest vegan, I could just bodyslam my way to a copy.

thar she blows

thar she blows
Originally uploaded by kirida.

I'm blowing air into Nathan's face. I didn't have any garlic so he doesn't mind.

My friend Rachel's in Cookie Magazine!

THANK YOU COOKIE MAGAZINE!!!
Originally uploaded by rasputina1.

If you haven't seen Rachel's awesome house, click on the photo to start your clickety-click technicolor tour!

Also, there are photos of Liam, the adorable boy wonder.

My genius, more heartbreaking than staggering

why i won't be working at a coffee shop from mona on Vimeo.

Definitely not awesome.

Earlier this week, the eight year old kid who lives next door took a rock from our garden and carved a long scratch on the hood of Mike's trunk. We wouldn't have known about this had another neighbor of ours not watched the whole incident. The kid left just as Mike was walking back to his car to pick up Nathan from daycare. When Mike returned, our neighbor approached him, holding the rock the boy used to scratched the car.

Mike asked if he knew who it was and he explained that it was a boy in a yellow shirt.

Just then, the yellow shirted boy appeared with his brother, both of them walking their bikes down the sidewalk.

"That's the kid!" Our neighbor yelled out. "That's the kid who did it!"

The boy dropped his bike and fled to his house. Mike and our neighbor followed, knocked on the door. The parents answered and Mike explained what happened, that their son had scratched the car. As as sure as that little shit did it, he cowered and denied any wrongdoing.

Thankfully, our neighbor was there, rock in hand, and confirmed that what Mike said was true. Mike showed the parents what he had done and they shrugged out an apology and offered to pay for it.

Mike's not going to make them pay for it because there were other--albeit smaller--scratches on the car and had this been a fresh paint job, he would have given them an estimate.

And tonight, the kid's out on the street again, riding his bike as if nothing had ever happened and Mike and I discuss what we would do with Nathan had he committed the same crime which would probably be cleaning the car with a toothbrush, but one of those finger toothbrushes you use on a baby.

What would you have done?

Not your father's Father's Day

It's Father's Day, so that means that this is the time of year that I pull out the Breathe Right strips and perform the longest BJ ever. And since it's Father's Day, I'm not even going to time this one.

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to talk once again about Swingtown: my favorite show about swingers who also live in a town. (I bet they were going to originally call it Swingyurt, but it wasn't as sexy.) So the more I think about group sex, the more I think that it's just practical. Ladies (and some dudes--heyyy!), have you ever given a blow job that seems like it's taking forever? And worse, the TV's on and you realize that you're missing Mythbusters? If you had someone else there, it could be like tag team wrestling and you could just yell, "TAG ME OUT! TAG ME OUT!"

Happy Father's Day!

more mona minutiae

I'm digging the show Swingtown, the new CBS series about swingers that gives you everything but the swinging! COME ON! It's like someone brought me to a Las Vegas buffet but I can only smell the food. Or someone plopped me into the middle of a fancy dress shop but I can't fit any of the clothes. Which is more of a real life scenario than bloggy analogy, sadly. But even with that egregious error, I tune in so every Thursday I can ask my husband questions like, "Do you wish I was your age so we could discuss where we were during the Bicentennial?"

I can see how cliche this show can be: a couple gets all freaky deeky and formerly secure wife now experiences the WHAT DID I DO? epiphany whenever her husband even breathes in the direction of another woman. But maybe I'm so desperate for something good on TV that even stock characters with predictable dilemmas are appealing to me.

This jealousy on screen makes me think about the early days of my relationship with Mike. We started dating when I was 19 and my relationship baggage was packed with afterschool special jealousy and frantic communication via phone, pager and ICQ (does anyone even remember ICQ?). I dated this one guy who would point out the skankiness of my clothes or how I never returned his pages quickly enough. And after that relationship fizzled, I thought that was how relationships functioned--with tearful pleas, whywere you talking to him/her accusations, and other exhaustive bull.

But I'm 25 now, with a son and a career and I can firmly say that my husband isn't going to leave me for Beyonce. But man, if Beyonce were into Mike, I would totally give the green light as long as he tells me what she looks like without her weave.

Also, I've turned what would be jealous moments into comedic gems. There are some moments when Mike will reveal something and I take that sacred information and throw it in his face whenever I can. Like, once he said that Geraldine Ferraro was HOT when she was running for president, but I didn't listen to the qualifier and instead heard only SHE and HOT and since then, whenever Geraldine Ferraro is running her crazy old lady mouth on the morning news, I have to run and shake my husband awake, saying, "Honey! Your favorite person in the world is on the news! Do you want me to get you some tissue and hand lotion?"

Thanks for joining me on this long climb, short slide blog post but hey, it's Friday and tomorrow I'm going to see The Happening with these fine ladies. Jealous?

How to listen to gangsta rap with children around

Awesome. Not awesome.

In another edition of Awesome. Not Awesome (shamelessly pilfered from the best show on the AM dial, Too Beautiful To Live with Luke Burbank), I categorize recent happenings in my life into the only categories that matter: awesome or not awesome.

Awesome: I met up with the ladies from Seattle Mom Blogs last Thursday at the Purple Cafe where I saw the light and it was wine.



Not awesome! I went into a liquor store recently and as I pulled out my driver's license to show the cashier, he shooed it away, saying, "Don't worry. I know you." And this was weird because I had never been at that liquor store before. So, how bad is my alcohol problem if my reputation enters before I do?

Awesome! My friend Deece sent me a care package from Saipan filled with items like ice keki (translates to "ice candy," and it's a better, dare I say awesome version of otter pops), Botan rice candy (which Nathan ate), dried mangoes, and ingredient for "salt." Salt is a salty dipping mixture made from soup base, kool aid and Tabasco if you're not a wuss. I had to explain this to my husband, White-Man-in-Residence and 1970s Senior Swingtown Analyst (his take: none of that happened in Belleville, Illinois), who doesn't understand why islanders would voluntarily eat something like this or why they think that visiting relatives on the mainland means staying there for three weeks.



Awesome: My Flip Video Camera. It's perfect and lightweight. I reviewed it over at The Full Mommy, but I want to add that it's also a great idea for Father's Day. Or Mother's Day. Or Make Me Feel Better About Myself Through Material Goods Day. We attended a birthday party on Sunday and my Canon was too heavy to lug around along with Nathan's massive body. Thanks to my tiny Flip, I was able to capture the following videos. Can I get an awesome?


Sliding take 2 from mona on Vimeo.


High five. Low five. No five. from mona on Vimeo.

airborne

My photo of my friend Kathy's husband John throwing their son Jack in the air was chosen as today's Parent Dish's Image of the Day!

Wednesday Why Is it

Why is it cellphones are so complicated? My cellphone contract is up for renewal which means I can upgrade to a phone that wasn't invented right after people stopped calling them "mobile phones," or waved them around like little flags of "Hey Look At Me" self-importance. Wait, they still do that? I know I would like to be able to take photos, listen to music and keep a calendar. I'm thinking of holding out for the 3g iPhone coming out next week, or the BlackBerry Curve or just chucking all cell phone upgrades in favor of yelling really loud. The last option would work, but I bet I'd get poor reception.

Why is it that everyone's life easier than mine? Whenever I have a particularly stressful day at work or a commute that annihilates a hairdo that I had carefully created that morning, I look around me and see all these people who seem to have it together and my mind starts drifting into their lives, how the women in the clickety-clack high heels have never imagined how wide their feet become after giving birth or the college student taking up two seats on the bus with his bag and schleps his laundry home on the weekend.

Maybe it's the rain that makes turns my head into a free verse LSD trip, the way I am when I drive through a rich neighborhood and am struck with the powerful need to park my three-hub-capped car behind the elegant shrubbery, gallop across the lawn and press my face against the cool window panes in hopes of stealing a glimpse of Viking subzero refrigerators that never house takeout containers from Denny's and the room where the rich people swim in their money like Scrooge McDuck.

How many penis euphemisms can I use in one post?

Saturday night I went to a bachelor/bachelorette party. It was not called a "Romeo/Juliet" party and thank Jennifer Hudson's Bad Weave, because I get irritated whenever that label's used to describe a coed pre-wedding get down because, hello, didn't anyone read the play? Or watch the Claire Danes/Leonardo DiCaprio movie past the part where they make out? Most people know how it ends, right? Without wikipedia-ing it? I don't know if I want to live in a world where people think Romeo and Juliet are the latest additions to the Gossip Girl cast (I say this after raving about Sex and the City. That's right! I own my rave. No shame in my game.)

The party was wild! People stayed up after 9 PM! No one talked about Andy Rooney's desk or agreed that rubber bands are the best invention ever. There was a game where the women were given rice krispie mix to mold into an anatomically correct wang. (New from Parker Brothers: Wang Games!)

Guess who won?



I took home two pairs of his and her chocolate thongs which is just great because I plan to wear them while singing the Willy Wonka theme song, only I'm going to say Willy Wangka! Because every day I ask the question, "What would a 12-year-old South Park fan do?"

I might not wear them at all and simply top them off with a pint of Ben and Jerry's. How raggedy am I to look at chocolate panties and wonder how they'll taste stirred into a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough?

The BlogHer Community Keynote

Sadly, I will not be able to attend this year's BlogHer conference in San Francisco because we are attending the Mona's-Family-Reunion-Con '08 in Disneyland. However, I am very honored to be participating in the BlogHer Community Keynote committee with these poignant, prolific, priceless and perky ladies. I am judging the rant category, so if you know of an powerful rant post (especially if the blogger is attending BlogHer), please read Elisa's post for rules and instructions and nominate away!