My Manolos

So, I'm in love with Sarah Jessica Parker. I know guys think she's a horse face, and she's so little in every way, which usually creeps me out, but since I've never seen her in person, I go on thinking she's my height. Even back in 1985 when Girls Just Wanna Have Fun came out, I idolized her. Square Pegs--well, not so much. Anyway, I, of course was a huge Sex and the City fan, and wanted to own every outfit she wore on the show. In my world, I also assume I will look the same as she does in it. I had a secret fixation with getting a tutu to wear it much like the opening scene of the show, but at least had the sense to know in reality I would not be able to pull this off.

I may be making that mistake again, but I have ordered the very blue Manolo Blahniks featured in the movie. I'm still not sure where I'll wear these yet, since I can't just throw them on with a pair of boy shorts like SJP does with every shoe. In fact, on anyone but her these shoes may look like Dyeables, the very gross and very uncomfortable shoes you get forced to wear to match someone's hideous bridesmaid dress or your electric blue prom dress. Yes, ladies and gentleman, my maids had to dye, but let me say, this is before you could just wear gold or silver shoes with stuff. I don't even think they were available then. So, shut it. If I were getting married again, which I very much want to do since I ended up hating my botched dress, that I would wear these shoes!

You may think I'm crazy, but really I'm buying a piece of history. Lyla will some day get these shoes. Maybe she'll wear them to her wedding. I loved my Moms shoes and dress. Of course, I could never fit my fat ass into her size 2 dress, but that is another matter. I've recently started saving nicer pieces of clothing and shoes for my little fashionista. I know it's all so Lauren Hutton of me, but some things just shouldn't be cast off. A few things have memories, and credit card bills associated with them, so I have to save them. One day, when I have a huge walk-in closet where I drink martinis in my underwear and smoke long cigarettes to the sound of Judy Garland's drunken/drug-induced melodies, I will look upon the treasures I have saved, and maybe even wear them again.

Until then, I will instead shove them into my ridiculously small bar I call a closet, with no rhyme or reason. My wedding dress is squashed between a pair of tuxedo pants from about '98 and a pair of fancy jeans with a promise note that I will fit into them again some day again, and to just be patient. Sometimes things go in there, and come out with tags still on six months later.

So, please free to send your photos and suggestions as to what I can wear my life savings with. I will post your suggestions right here on this blog. Maybe we'll even vote. This blog is starting to get really sophisticated.

Comings and Goings

I am back from my recent trip to NJ to meet my new niece Piper Grey Berkowitz. She was nine pounds, 12 ounces. A little bruiser just like my own. Here is a shot of her in the nursery getting the business done by one of the nurses. She's a real cutey, and holding her brings me back folks, it really does.

Lyla didn't get to meet her because they only allow siblings in. So, we tag teamed in and out to entertain the wee bean while we tended to the wee-er bean. She had a grand old time in the hospital waiting room. As you can see by the picture, she was laughin' it up with the expecting grandparents. This is all a good thing, because the week before Miss Lyla decided to give up bottles completely. She refused any bottle, at any time. We've been weening for a while now, but she quit cold turkey on us. She would wail at the site of it. So, we were just feeding her, and giving her YoBaby to supplement for the ba. Doc said she'd be fine, and that after a week she'd probably take the bottle back. We felt better, but it had been so hot, and Lyla also wanted nothing to do with any sippy cup. I think I'd bought every one on the market. Finally, we gave her a straw cup (thank you Leslie Wagner), and she gulped it down like Bear Grylls in the Serengeti. For a week, she was hogging food, just stuffing it in. Then, suddenly, she cried with the food instead, wanting the damn bottle. Just like that the tables turned back, and now she's all about the bottle again. A little too much now. Can't win. I also think she's either teething, or a little under the weather this week, because upon our return from NJ she's been a bit fussy most of the day, which is totally unlike her. She usually fights through anything, but she's been a real baby the last few days. Meal times are a crap shoot. She's either smiling and giggling, or in hysterics. Last night, our painter came, and at the site of him she went nuts. I don't know what it is about him that sends her off the deep end, but it's something. Then she screamed through the feeding of bananas and rasberries (usually her fave dessert). There were rasberries all over her, me, Filo, and the wall. I was feeling a bit fluish anyway, so hauling her in and out of the high chair was quite an undertaking last night. I'm hoping it's the teeth, or a passing virus, and not the start of a trend. We've been blessed with this unbelievably happy, good kid, I don't want her to go Chuckie on me now. Especially since we're trying to get a new babysitter. Which reminds me that last night, the second babysitter in a row flaked. The first one, never called or showed up the night of my birthday when she was supposed to sit. This new one was supposed to come last night to meet Lyla before babysitting tomorrow, and she never came. I left her a vmail last night, and an email today, and I haven't heard anything. What the H? What's wrong with these people?

Back to Lyla

Since this blog is supposed to center around Lyla, I will pull away from my recent rant regarding robbery.

Lyla is moving quickly into kidhood. She is truly no longer a baby. She crawls, and picks herself up to a standing position, and even side-steps. Yesterday, she was tackling stair climbing. She's like a boy, fearless. I have a feeling dainty dolls and tea parties aren't in her future. If she takes after her mother she'll be playing bricks in the dirt or racing bikes with the boys down the street. Fortunately, she doesn't have an older brother like mine who ran over me on his bike at the trails down the street from our house when I was assigned to find him for dinner. Sometimes, the regular routine of screaming down the block for your kid didn't always work, and the young sibling was sent to fetch the others.

I always try to catch her doing her funny stuff on camera, but she goes WB on me every time. I have included a few of her recent doings, but you have to wait it out until the end before she gets to it.

Oh, the humanity.

No, I'm not talking about the Hindenburg burning, but my street going to pot. Last Monday my car got robbed. I say robbed, not broken into because it wasn't locked. Normally, this would be another thing I forgot to do being me, but actually Trent went to grab the Chick Fil'A that I bought out of the car, and didn't lock the doors. I can't blame him. One whiff of that chicken sandwich would send anyone into a daze.

My stuff was all over the car, and I could see they went through the glove box and consoles. They only got an old iPod, our Garmin, some CDs, and some wires and change. I know these must have been punk kids, because anyone with any sense of what had value and saw the Bugaboo in the back, would have gone straight for that! That's what I would have taken. I also had a purse with the receipt in it in the back, but I'm guessing they didn't want to go through the trouble of returning it, and
potentially getting caught. As a sidebar, when I returned it the next night, I showed her the receipt and she said, "Don't worry I trust it's you." So, robber, if you are reading this, you could have taken and returned it to South Moon Under in Towson, no problemo.

All in all, I felt pretty good nothing big was taken, and that they didn't have to break my windows to get to my precious Baby Einstein's Driving Songs CD (which they took).

However, the very next night we were awoken around 12:45 a.m. by what sounded like a car with a dragging muffler and a back firing problem. Trent jumped out of bed, and looked out the window. Turns out, they were smashing back windshields and mirrors up the entire street. All of our neighbors were outside trying to exchange siting stories, what happened to their cars, and report it all to the police. I think they got about 10 cars on our street alone. They also hit two other surrounding neighborhoods that night, and it sounds like they were doing more car and basement robberies in the houses. It was pretty shocking, considering we all leave our doors open all the time, and rarely lock-up even on walks. Well, let's just say the place has been like Fort Knox since last week.

The whole neighborhood is trying to solve the case, and I'm sure someone will be planning a Take Back the Night rally within days. This may end up initiating my first appearance at our community association's meeting(s). They probably staged the whole thing just to get people to show up to talk about lawn ornaments. Apparently, their threatening newsletters weren't enough.