tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31498076612837542812024-03-04T20:24:52.175-08:00domestic goldthe everyday ponderings of yet another stay-at-home motherMrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-47124341815049638602008-12-18T17:14:00.000-08:002008-12-18T17:37:24.437-08:00snowflakes & sugarplums<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDF21HHMT6T0tWLaaJqEzd6K07a7otWrsqBTMqBj6vX02n391VQWMDjckYwkeGDPWBl9PogdwHCdlCUmG6o0fbmuaK3eR6GSSpvNsvk4nLgDicw72C6VkNaAnZpwQRYiHGVwxae7eTFE/s1600-h/IMG_5831.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 379px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDF21HHMT6T0tWLaaJqEzd6K07a7otWrsqBTMqBj6vX02n391VQWMDjckYwkeGDPWBl9PogdwHCdlCUmG6o0fbmuaK3eR6GSSpvNsvk4nLgDicw72C6VkNaAnZpwQRYiHGVwxae7eTFE/s400/IMG_5831.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281305297008652610" border="0" /></a><br />Jon and I took Mazlyn on our yearly Christmas date to the <a href="http://www.sfballet.org/">Nutcracker</a> a couple nights ago. Just her and us. Which is a nice change of pace, if only once a year.<br />Some snippets: A woman at the door gave Mazzy a little stuffed mouse, and she asked for another one for her baby sister (aaaww). When Clara's little brother broke her nutcracker, Mazzy said, "oh, I've done that before." (too true) Champagne and cookies at intermission (which makes the second act <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> much better). When the snowflakes were done dancing, Mazzy said "I hope they have jackets."<br />When we finally got home and tucked her into bed, she said "I'm going to have so many good things to dream about."<br />And that's why we do it every year.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-37576931002031114532008-12-02T11:50:00.000-08:002008-12-02T12:00:04.257-08:00music to my earsI hadn't gotten very far into angry chicken's <a href="http://angrychicken.typepad.com/angry_chicken/2008/11/items-of-intere.html">music list</a> before I came across this video. Now I'm stuck, because how can it get any better than two Swedish sisters aged 18 and 15 that kick <em>this much ass</em>?!<br /><br />So, thanks <a href="http://www.amykarol.com/">amy</a> for your bloggy philanthropy, and thanks <a href="http://www.myspace.com/thisisfirstaidkit">First Aid Kit</a> for giving fantastical visions for my own daughters.<br /><br />Enjoy. How could you not?<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HMrqBldlqzA&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HMrqBldlqzA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-64564026139801404562008-11-14T10:30:00.000-08:002008-11-14T10:37:00.145-08:00She's Crafty<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268583136120861570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoTqr_3V_dh57z8TeWIabFiJC2tu9fC13DF3iGIbqtbpu7ass-HmxoJTTdjvQk1_esIcptTJ1Dp1XvYLzpn0oH73umCYGS6ajEor4SbkhvhBLRkG7zo7tQLZZKeGPGRBBb5MUqvuyIfqo/s400/IMG_5700.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center">+</div><br /><div align="center"></div><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268583135062614578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7IBSEeAhtDpZUG7ZJQ9LStJAsgwL2EUYehJfUWVk0XfbcnlAjQ30047AsACtOiKyLrFrhIa3jaPBZd6RuKSn6ttQrWsX7WL-jcRJmxlIOl4r_Nxdo_zmi84HvaLoS5vhFKXIjqBoZizE/s400/IMG_5727.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">=</p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268583816860693538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEO9SS0-mIQ1u7DK7f7-C_UjSRX3TVuuTwJH_xKICbqkyNUT9deE5pt3nE9Z8bhRmOFnkj-w_N14B4gXU6nPRH5auoHvQ_Vj44jFBzB_4krrf2w0UJFiKdF-ZSlpw1SENQS5Ly0iG8UNw/s400/IMG_5732.JPG" border="0" /></p>Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-16961307928677827922008-11-09T15:40:00.000-08:002008-11-09T15:42:50.660-08:00GOOD Enough for MeNot that we're in need of a better choice than the guy we just chose, but here's just one more candidate I wouldn't mind getting behind:<br /><br /><object height="264" width="416"><param name="movie" value="http://www.good.is/wp-content/plugins/video/component.swf"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="flashvars" value="video=http://s3.amazonaws.com/www.goodmagazine.com/videos/mosdef&image=http://www.good.is/wp-content/themes/goodv1/images/defaultimg_video.gif&title=If Mos Def Were President&doubleClickUrl=http://www.good.is/?p=12712"><embed src="http://www.good.is/wp-content/plugins/video/component.swf?video=http://s3.amazonaws.com/www.goodmagazine.com/videos/mosdef&image=http://www.good.is/wp-content/themes/goodv1/images/defaultimg_video.gif&title=If Mos Def Were President&doubleClickUrl=http://www.good.is/?p=12712" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="416" height="264" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object>Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-35445052971690560312008-11-08T12:44:00.000-08:002008-11-08T12:49:28.680-08:00Stickers for FreeAre you as happy as I am about our new President?<br /><br />Do you want a free sticker to celebrate?<br /><br />Go get one!<br /><br /><a href="http://pol.moveon.org/shepstickers/" target="new">http://pol.moveon.org/shepstickers/</a><br /><br />I mean, who doesn't love stickers?Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-4166752743027744812008-11-05T11:34:00.001-08:002008-11-05T12:33:09.025-08:00Victory!!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01NExDtnPUbEx_5GVPgqsU18FR5joWTryqkjhrmEyG4TRKHE_4S_KegOKo37QTGt6LTVz8t9nIhEyWWY4pTNatTHsHk2TtTSmITYFgWf2yxVY3x88YsSXjKw2p3oQTiU8w0r4ls7SGqY/s1600-h/grant_park_08b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265259287870006162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01NExDtnPUbEx_5GVPgqsU18FR5joWTryqkjhrmEyG4TRKHE_4S_KegOKo37QTGt6LTVz8t9nIhEyWWY4pTNatTHsHk2TtTSmITYFgWf2yxVY3x88YsSXjKw2p3oQTiU8w0r4ls7SGqY/s400/grant_park_08b.jpg" border="0" /></a> it belongs to all of us.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcd8ksCWPj1iRkNgfLw8U0fm9OEDq0F7M5kXr7HJnDYDIHyCLfBy9qVUr_2jhO1DSid1U30yilGZjYrzeJgkDnTTIy9wYnmuZmFNwa7_ZEiYN2i8s5jNW80gaTl6v0zZh1n9ud0_jukmk/s1600-h/grant_park_16.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265259281967482674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcd8ksCWPj1iRkNgfLw8U0fm9OEDq0F7M5kXr7HJnDYDIHyCLfBy9qVUr_2jhO1DSid1U30yilGZjYrzeJgkDnTTIy9wYnmuZmFNwa7_ZEiYN2i8s5jNW80gaTl6v0zZh1n9ud0_jukmk/s400/grant_park_16.jpg" border="0" /></a> "This victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change.<br />And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.<br />So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other."<br />-<em>Barack Obama, from his victory speech-</em><br /></div><div align="center">After a long dark night, it is finally morning again in America.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">And the coffee never tasted so good.<br /></div><div align="right">*photos by Brooks Kraft for Time*</div>Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-29106842122833936702008-11-04T12:03:00.000-08:002008-11-05T11:34:28.972-08:00Viva la Eleccion!!Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! It was beginning to feel like this day might never actually come, but here it is.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />What do I do, though? I already voted two weeks ago. Carry a rabbit's foot? Do a rain dance? Pray? Make an animal sacrifice (and finally put that damn rooster out of it's misery)?<br /><br /><br /><br />It's a sunny day, but freezing cold. Is this a good or a bad omen?<br /><br />Perhaps like most of you, I'm super anxious (read: equal parts excited and worried) about tonight. I've made my plans to have my best homies around me, either to celebrate or to comiserate with. Is that enough? I feel like I could burst with all my hopes that Obama will win, but I live in California, a state that doesn't really matter, apparently.<br /><br /><br />And since I don't live in Virginia, I guess I'll just have to wait and see...<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264898582587611474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SoTM9112HSoaM4ZQZZxT7G6uo5aG5XO46jUmhYNjNRKokGvNI1hM2Q1edoq-DTBjK_ZMWwRxJqZMaM0OKaVhe8RfLjqliw0vHv2VeHNkUtlOt_li-aouAzfuZJRpr5ebCxRHtEBoOEk/s400/obama+waiting.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center">just like everybody else.</p><p align="right">*photo by Callie Shell for Time*</p>Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-69755333348515183832008-10-20T10:54:00.000-07:002008-10-20T11:12:59.497-07:00three thingsthat made this a great Monday morning:<br /><div></div><br /><div>1. I woke up next to my warm, sleeping husband. This hasn't been happening with much regularity over the last two months, as harvest usually wakes him up long before me or keeps him away all night.</div><div>But yesterday, he had a day off. So he took the girls to the pumpkin patch and made a huge pot of his famous vegetable soup and got to sleep in this morning until eight! Mmmmmm. The vegetable soup leads me to the second thing...</div><div></div><br /><div>2. Pink pee! The soup is always heavy on beets, at Mazzy's request. And there's nothing like a good surprise to get your day going.</div><div></div><br /><div>and finally...</div><div></div><br /><div>3. Coffee. Oh, coffee, I will never take you for granted again.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259300135951753602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1KnqvKpvmLkzQjQCwWRnozeie3GtNQE8c1H4RMfNYUMduVBzKncfMwIL2LX8S6bD0hWuJGTNAb5d_UHAZKizChPD8hNJIbo-W_WnaCYEraKqBMrKF62JotAxkJQffrL71uhWf8xUjFUY/s400/IMG_5638.JPG" border="0" /> Our coffee pot broke at the end of the summer and we endured two confusing months without caffeine. I finally got wise and bought a french press last week, and it's been pure joy ever since. Pure joy and lots of cleaning.</div><div> </div><div>And a happy Monday to you.</div>Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-7376707697774624522008-10-07T13:23:00.000-07:002008-10-07T14:30:34.078-07:00Mazzy's Song of the Week<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ycqhqDKq5a0&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ycqhqDKq5a0&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Mazzy had the pleasure of meeting <a href="http://brettdennen.net/" target="new">Brett Dennen</a> at High Sierra two years back. I'm pretty sure she has had a little crush on him ever since, or whatever the equivalent feeling is for a girl her age. I can see the appeal, what with the towering frame and flaming hair and that voice she's so familiar with (thank you, <a href="http://www.mosaicproject.org/" target="new">Mosaic Project</a>).<br /><br />Brett sort of saved the day with this one, since the new <a href="http://www.crowmedicine.com/freedownload/?gclid=CIDLkZ2FlpYCFRNOagodFC99Ew" target="new">Old Crow Medicine Show </a>album has been in heavy rotation in our house this past week, this video came along just in time to divert her attention before she memorized and started in with impromptu performances of a few of those tunes (Methamphetamiiiiiinnne!).Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-44410473793563231252008-10-01T14:56:00.000-07:002008-10-01T15:28:09.965-07:00wheelin' and dealin'We spent a good deal of last Saturday at our friends' house for Open Studios, which is an annual event here in the Napa Valley where artists invite visitors into their homes/studios to see and buy their work.<br /><div><div></div><br /><div>Our friends <a href="http://web.mac.com/williamcallnan3/iWeb/All%20Media%20Art%20Website/AMA%20Contents%20page.html" target="new">Will</a> and <a href="http://web.mac.com/williamcallnan3/iWeb/NBC%20Pottery%20Website/NBCPottery%20Intro.%20page.html" target="new">Nikki</a> participate every year, and they're the only studio we ever visit.<br /></div><div>Will's art is very touchable and interactive and I like to encourage Mazzy to take part, but her fine motor skills are still being refined and caution is not her strong suit. That along with all manner of long-necked vases and breakable ceramics large and small that litter the yard makes for a good exercise in listening and self-control.</div><div></div><br /><div>This year, though, the Callnans were prepared for kids and had lots of diversions for them. Mazzy had a good long session with the kick wheel and some clay.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252311630335521138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoQkfiUZLGderlNc2Zhj18ZEKmlhqUWT92vjDvjFUR5r4ky0Q9oS49UoihLb030u1peexgcxWsLihHmzuL2EI5E84P8OXTAXlZ1B4ULatdnyJt03I0GQapiW-LSlCwrZV04xikkMfChQ/s320/IMG_5626.JPG" border="0" /></div></div><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252311637267229058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCOfMaEgNJ79QyveqO7Etm1cdyc8xeqQY3RvqBZSoLWl3usggZ5G2zjN-WG8huIhY-uATiCCwpcGE836WEYh9pQA0eO-ffCCdN4daMV5wtLVPZpfi4dhspFyEHjdTL8xC5KQi22L5URio/s320/IMG_5628.JPG" border="0" />Eden was happy snacking on sweet peas and kicking, stacking and knocking down all of the empty paint cans Will had out.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252311649077629666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4FmT_NRxMgehp2PzlLVtCVhaBEwF7dER-Z8ZxAU3QxGgzIetwNAXgC36ue4EsNpYPpGWVptocaCBpovW2IWOZCV2OFxWFggFBHd94Ej6UNZ6JTJmA0ntZsta93hTSngiwu0TYmqc9i8/s320/IMG_5629.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>And no visit to Chez Callnan is complete without a little time spent on the deck on top of the van.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252313306940915778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMQYnX6r_ZhzrFH3SbPtie2eXTHbQJ7Z4QUKljzChGpStp2yYTAQpn-mbsRE_6qYBFrMPNYNOWmJk2IvPTgcG3-uZ9QJH5NM2Fu88_aDd9YIPKH60h7Mt55JsFzODu3w4wMwWDOraG4w/s320/IMG_5631.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p>It was a tough act to follow, but Big Mama (never one to disappoint) showed off some of her own art on our way home:<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252314627254972754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM607Z_oSdnnBABDtvcQLc0AcELi8jdwc8S81hxUUSV0DNMa4HVZkuyzr64ockRgOXqqxyKAEJlmHthLlf-4kJLH39tWm1Ld9JTf1Ngeq-yRx6OLDbh8KTPSRvFqYEIjrvNkw3cGoKtOc/s320/IMG_5635.JPG" border="0" /></p><br />A lovely day.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-69165074148067331402008-09-27T11:53:00.000-07:002008-09-27T12:15:37.198-07:00turn on, tune inAttending to our civic duty, the girls and I (widowed by the grape harvest) packed into the car last night and headed for the hills. Over the river and through the woods to a friend's house to tune in to the first Presidential Candidate debate.<br /><br />We brought the radio into the kitchen, tuned it to NPR and gathered around as we cooked dinner and the kids played and picked teaser bites off the counter.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250778156488965730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LzHQwP7z0HbwPwsOtW56zV4To6CqTshZ4RV2HY6p_5S1-ZrVbIwUKPB1oyIXiHtrx7S0W6eZSaFcPG-tQBz7cByp_tLjUjhQklbgm7JEYVCJ8tDRROeplVuOmRahu3bYIT4S1PU8y4o/s320/P1040670.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p>There was a disappointing lack of details and a few frustrating sound byte repetitions, but neither candidate got cornered or mired down, which was a refreshing change from all the attacks that have been flying around recently.</p><p>McCain highlighted his age when he kept talking about Ronald Reagan and the cold war, and Obama put in a good defensive jab when he reminded everyone about McCain's song about bombing Iran.</p><p>The reception got a little dicey at one point and Matt had to stand in a corner with the radio in his hand in the air like the Statue of Liberty. </p><p>The kids were great, the food was yummy, the drinks were plentiful and we were feeling proud to be Americans, which is a break from the norm. Not the kids part, the Americans part. </p><p>I can't wait until the next one, I think we've come up with a good tradition.</p>Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-87331190907207615172008-09-21T15:24:00.000-07:002008-09-21T15:40:25.634-07:00mmm hmmm.Such a negligent blogger! I've gone and bored the two of you who read this. Sorry.<br /><br />Not that nothing's been going on. The opposite, really. My husband has a new job. My daughter had her first day of her second year of school, a day that passed with very little fanfare compared to last year. A king snake slithered into my front door one night. Our rooster learned how to crow. Every day my littlest girl says something new. Today it was "I'm alright, mama" after she got through a little coughing jag.<br /><br />The thing that finally moved me to sit down and write was the weather.<br /><br />It's perfect outside right now (why am I in here?!) The air is body temperature, not hot, with a breeze that's not cold. There are big fluffy white clouds that are fun to watch change shape. It's the kind of day that makes you thankful for everything that's going right in your life, instead of that feeling I have too often that there's something more I should be doing.<br /><br />My life, and probably lots of you working moms', is so full of stuff that needs to be done. It feels so much easier for me to sweat it all than to relax. It takes a concentrated effort for me to relax. I have to be working with one hand, cleaning with the other, and entertaining and stimulating my kids with my go-go-gadget arms.<br /><br />But not today. All we need today is some fresh air and sunshine, our lungs and hands, some blueberry pancakes, a few sticks and a couple rocks and some little shiny things and we're good.<br /><br />We're good.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-60445428470517304802008-08-08T17:12:00.000-07:002008-08-11T21:48:56.853-07:00move over, carly simonThere's a new girl in town. This is the latest of Mazzy's favorite music videos. Much more modern and um, shiny.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Uk_lZ37bUOM&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Uk_lZ37bUOM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />She asked me to make her an outfit like that. I said, if I could make an outfit like that, it would be for <em>me</em>. And if that happens, I think we've got next Halloween figured out.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-20671774353663834392008-08-05T10:09:00.000-07:002008-08-05T10:21:29.024-07:00and it don't stop...So, the ringing in my left ear is lowering and I'm able to sleep with that side of my face on the pillow, I can breathe fully through my nose and am no longer walking around with my mouth hanging open for air.<br /><div align="center"><strong>BUT</strong></div>now the left side of my face isn't working. I can only raise one eyebrow and wrinkle one side of my nose, and my smile is a little lopsided, to say the least.<br />Mama's got <a href="http://www.uptodate.com/online/content/image.do?imageKey=neuropix/bells_pa.htm&title=Bells%20palsy%20photos">Bell's Palsy</a>.<br />Which has to be the lamest condition ever. Just a temporary paralysis of one side of the face, you know, so you look stupid for a little while.<br />So if you see me, please don't say anything to funny, because laughing is the most embarassing thing I try to do. Oh, and if you come into my house in the middle of the night and see me with my eye taped shut, that was the doctor's recommendation.<br />Come on! Apparently my karma isn't as good as I thought.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-83633879553434318982008-07-26T12:14:00.000-07:002008-07-26T20:31:54.450-07:00InfectedI've been MIA for several reasons:<br /><br />1) there was the whole <a href="http://www.etsy.com/featured_seller.php?featured_user_id=5103439">DamestarBaby Featured Seller</a> weekend, where I think I spent a good portion of three days knitting and clicking between our <a href="http://www.damestarbaby.etsy.com/">Etsy shop</a>, our <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/damestarbaby/">Flickr page</a>, our <a href="http://www.damestarbaby.blogspot.com/">blog</a> and our new <a href="http://www.damestarbaby.com/">website</a>.<br /><br />2) I went camping for a night, thinking that the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaimita/sets/72157606383379756/">moist ocean air</a> would clear up the mild sickness I felt coming on. Not so.<br /><br />3) my mild cough evolved into an intensely painful sinus infection, which then took a nasty turn into a crazy ear infection. I finally drove myself to the emergency room last night, and the doctor all but jumped back when he looked into my ear with his little light probe and saw <a href="http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i160/queenmutha/bullousmyringitis.jpg">this.</a><br />I told him my ear felt like it was going to explode and he said it very well could. Then four nurses came in and asked to take a look, for education's sake. I said go for it, I'm only here to help.<br /><br />Soooo, bursting eardrums! That's exciting!<br /><br />But now I'm on Vicodin (aaaahhhh) and so now the loud ringing and loss of hearing feels kind of like an enhanced state of being, since the pain is gone.<br /><br />If it pops, I'll be sure and let you know.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-22676656369033540892008-07-19T12:39:00.000-07:002008-07-19T12:41:18.172-07:00Keep Your LifeME: OK, Maz, we're going on a boat today, and that means you have to wear your life jacket.<br /><br />MAZZY: So I can keep my life?<br /><br />ME: Right. Exactly.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-48722726386691607552008-07-11T18:36:00.001-07:002008-12-09T16:19:38.500-08:00Mother's Little Helperhere are just a few of the ways Mazlyn has helped something get done in the last month...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLocieRdhMRuVRioiqnf4b5drMelDa3DXHKIHLN-KEle_MfljwPLaHcxE-f5caAZteh-OR-w3nu8tiWkOQNarudKhhvf-vQut850Ubd16G3OPqCJvIQsVLyiqzP4yHawdxCeleSvY0IM/s1600-h/IMG_5406.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221936203259981522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLocieRdhMRuVRioiqnf4b5drMelDa3DXHKIHLN-KEle_MfljwPLaHcxE-f5caAZteh-OR-w3nu8tiWkOQNarudKhhvf-vQut850Ubd16G3OPqCJvIQsVLyiqzP4yHawdxCeleSvY0IM/s400/IMG_5406.JPG" border="0" /></a> she helped her sister get dressed for a play at the Clubhouse, then helped her up the stairs...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsw_xIQ2Y2DX0DFFo9Uy43Wd5cm7CZpQ5r1WXIK5BVkfi4Bn3PBXqajtRCp-AyDJtar_c2yk5sS82MB85JIZQ5GJbMr0FmlP7t4SbBXpF6KAlKc-DTL_f-ZW8uUoni-Yi4OzEQbH9CpJY/s1600-h/IMG_5410.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221936204979082610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsw_xIQ2Y2DX0DFFo9Uy43Wd5cm7CZpQ5r1WXIK5BVkfi4Bn3PBXqajtRCp-AyDJtar_c2yk5sS82MB85JIZQ5GJbMr0FmlP7t4SbBXpF6KAlKc-DTL_f-ZW8uUoni-Yi4OzEQbH9CpJY/s400/IMG_5410.JPG" border="0" /></a> she helped her Dad with the construction of the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaimita/2660144198/">Maximum Security Herb Garden<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221936208096792706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3nk6iVuTh2HKC7QLMVtCVYbO92qS_kGYcv5-AWWspQRBJJ5pAvP8e5Ied6ArYqYpGWQ2IU-fN7yTm319WZ4RKLpdSnmA1jXvM-FvCmzBbb5YzhyphenhyphenVkhlkNas0Rs6gmb1J7nz0opvN_fg/s400/IMG_5421.JPG" border="0" /></a> she drew this ladder in one of her books to span the tragic gap between a kid and his cookies...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqvtBTzN5YOHSh0aGfmU8kFomwBidiRozLVSGwJ1HIYqcJWU0K1XCioQ1MjUUDb2YHCO3bFVGAzLWSbFkgM8XVizjVXsU7M8q-YQ64KadF7Sro5LV0f0CKIt71iKuf1b9KG80Gt60UGg/s1600-h/IMG_5372.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221936211382166002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqvtBTzN5YOHSh0aGfmU8kFomwBidiRozLVSGwJ1HIYqcJWU0K1XCioQ1MjUUDb2YHCO3bFVGAzLWSbFkgM8XVizjVXsU7M8q-YQ64KadF7Sro5LV0f0CKIt71iKuf1b9KG80Gt60UGg/s400/IMG_5372.JPG" border="0" /></a> she established a club: "The Atreyu Girls," it has a theme song and an official costume and I am proud to be one of three lucky members.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-64982500763686955822008-07-06T18:44:00.000-07:002008-12-09T16:19:38.756-08:00Meet Arthur<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFw9d6qe5CUC6nygyL-AqgJKS2ziqvj3VMvJnLNicw9345kiI1MLntdX73LcbPCTaGV1p-bl8ierNZdcUEVEbFiuX-Vk2SIqJafRF0MNBT4mJ2oSAjFRUnyyMjqBZxG-UOj3HEBTqn7uo/s1600-h/IMG_5433.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220082780580436210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFw9d6qe5CUC6nygyL-AqgJKS2ziqvj3VMvJnLNicw9345kiI1MLntdX73LcbPCTaGV1p-bl8ierNZdcUEVEbFiuX-Vk2SIqJafRF0MNBT4mJ2oSAjFRUnyyMjqBZxG-UOj3HEBTqn7uo/s400/IMG_5433.JPG" border="0" /></a> The largest coolest greenest softest weirdest caterpillar I've ever seen.<br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220083233703420754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRcheQa1XYRX6c2JLxv1vWtAbF_vdUH_uSruFsonEl3kziGRE5DUvi84tPRP73KApdinsfAEs4DqmEhnzoMS56sk35MDgl_WOoGZ0VqCXYgoP8_FU2vnx6fjingHH8EHADzTMT6gejt3s/s320/IMG_5443.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>He's as big and fatter than my middle finger.</p><p>He(?) was intercepted trying to make his way into Jon's maximum security herb garden. Mazzy finally worked up the nerve to pick him up and we watched him for a while (it's hard not to)before we put him in his new home in a shrub in our yard. He's now busy wrapping silk threads around a branch and we're all very excited around here to see what becomes of him.<br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220084419306344930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgP8ibli97bvDFuDKYDlkxxY5eZR6f9Ig-_Vy4U5AvKlHOEAiXmkMNRpHr_bQg9fYiX9KQ72_MjdeveZah9CCpYdyOS5G_9Gi1u5n8UtlxAqaannY4sy8uB1SUmCNUY31VeMlTLewo0c/s320/IMG_5446.JPG" border="0" />Crazy.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-3508304980175880812008-06-30T13:17:00.000-07:002008-06-30T13:34:56.209-07:00One TreeMy husband's best friend and his wife were visiting us over the weekend, and late last night we found ourselves deep in an alcohol-induced tell-all session. I love those. They can really go either way depending on what you're drinking and which day of the week it is, but being that it was good red wine on a mellow Sunday night, the conversation turned into a pretty sentimental reminder of what we love best about each other and why we chose to get married. Aaaawww.<br /><br />So, I'll come down from my syrupy hangover cloud to share a love quote from another good friend's wedding:<br /><br /><div align="center"><em>Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like a volcano and then subsides and when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part, because this is what love is. Love is not the breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promise of eternal passion, and it is not the desire to mate every minute or every second of the day. That is just being "in love"which any fool can do…Love itself is what's left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.</em></div><div align="left"><em></em> </div><div align="right"><em>-Louis De Bernieres</em></div><div align="right"><em></em> </div><div align="left">How sweet it is.</div>Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-39215588265685170662008-06-15T09:08:00.000-07:002008-06-15T09:46:16.192-07:00D-O-Double-GKnowing what it's like to have and raise both, I've always been really flexible on the child-dog comparisons. There are undeniable parallels in training a dog and raising a child. Like how you have to punish them for misbehavior within three seconds or they don't understand why you're mad, and how it's better to divert and distract than just to say "no," and how you have to establish your role as the alpha before they're three or else they think they might be in charge. I'm not trying to demean my kids but honestly, the means are similar, though the ends may be a bit different.<br /><br />There are those, though, and some in my own family, who blur or disregard the line between dog and child altogether. The dogs get an open invitation to join the humans at the dinner table, they only get a mild scolding when they accidentally pee on the carpet ("oh, you silly thing"), they make their way into most family photos, and take away a significant haul on birthdays and christmas. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's dreaded getting on a plane with the lady carrying her Pomeranian in a cute little plaid carry-on. I mean, come on.<br /><br />I do feel like our dog has a role in our family: to teach our kids about responsibility and respect, to help me sleep peacefully when Jon is out of town, to clean up spills in the kitchen. But I don't feel bad about shutting her in her backyard, I try not to take her on vacation with me, she is NOT invited to dine with us, and she gets regularly ordered to lay down by every member of our family. She's a dog, and that's her place. <br /><br />We do give her privileges, too. Like big bones to gnaw on and tennis balls to rip in half and baths (which fill her with glee). She gets to go in the kiddy pool, and if she's been really good, we bring her boyfriend over to visit. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aUdxKu4yA-s&hl=en"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aUdxKu4yA-s&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />I think one post about the dog for every eight or nine about the kids is fair. I'll spare you the puppy album.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-84248200282696298122008-05-29T17:10:00.000-07:002008-05-29T17:26:07.454-07:00We're not in Kansas anymore......but we were! For 10 days, the Joneses stormed the Midwest. And the Midwest stormed us back. The thunderstorms were a total perk for me, because I'm not a farmer and my crops aren't in danger. It was pretty funny, though, when a particularly loud thunderclap woke Mazzy up from a dead sleep and she popped up and said, "Mom! Did you hear the funder and the lightming?" And then fell right back asleep.<br /><br />Aside from the memories and the photos, I brought back three things:<br /><br />1) A deeper understanding of my Grandma, and therefore of myself.<br /><br />2) A renewed respect for my Kansan kinfolk and their ways, which are so unlike my own, especially when it comes to their kids.<br /><br />more on these two when I have more time, but here's number three:<br /><br />3) Soulja Boy!<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SsdyDhCh-SU&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SsdyDhCh-SU&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />We managed to miss this movement when it happened, probably because we don't watch TV and I hardly listen to anything but NPR on the radio. So we had to go all the way to St. Louis, "The Lou," to catch up on the latest dance craze. You can see little Aiden's already got it down. <br /><br />Anyhow, there's no place like home.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-28467647349084671442008-05-11T01:17:00.000-07:002008-05-11T02:04:12.256-07:00Fab FourWe set the bar fairly high at her <a href="http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i160/queenmutha/Maziachi.jpg">first birthday party</a>, what with the Mariachi band and the pinata (for a one year old?!). Every year since "Viva la Mazlyn" has had a costume theme. There was <a href="http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i160/queenmutha/MazzyGras.jpg">Mazzy Gras</a> for birthday number two, and the third was a <a href="http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i160/queenmutha/IMG_2311.jpg">Luau</a>.<br /><br />We had to wait until she was four, though, to have the "<a href="http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i160/queenmutha/MazFabFourInvitation.jpg">Mazical Mystery Tour</a>." The ultimate costume party, where everyone dressed as a Beatles song. And even though some weren't that familiar with the Fab Four's repertoire, they all came through in fine style. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaimita/sets/72157604996299375/">Take your own tour of the Mystery Tour on flickr</a>. <br /><br />Mostly we just use her birthday as another excuse to dress up, but come on, it's a brilliant party theme. I don't know how we're going to top this next year.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-58941297525819757692008-04-30T19:52:00.000-07:002008-12-09T16:19:38.971-08:00arachnophiliaWhen you live in the woods, like we do, you have to make peace with the bugs. There are lots of them, all the time, especially spiders, especially in the Spring and Summer, and they might consider your house theirs for a time.<br /><br />If I find one that I'd rather not have crawling around, I usually escort it outside with a cup over<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2uF8W-rPcB0w5SCRUkYHLDg3qXdKOsYaFAMSrrixz0TWKM-3TfJJgeVnSp_uD_zer9k5-9YMyVVITe5IO9UcUjMlWt2CaK5KM28XWWyqmjxETzrthqAGeJb8IIy1W9mrv0Zg9C13dJU/s1600-h/DSC00825.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195237192988037410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2uF8W-rPcB0w5SCRUkYHLDg3qXdKOsYaFAMSrrixz0TWKM-3TfJJgeVnSp_uD_zer9k5-9YMyVVITe5IO9UcUjMlWt2CaK5KM28XWWyqmjxETzrthqAGeJb8IIy1W9mrv0Zg9C13dJU/s200/DSC00825.JPG" border="0" /></a> it and a piece of paper underneath. Fair enough. You can live, just not in my bathroom. Or my bedroom. Or in my laundry basket.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1d4V85U05Ao/SBko3pPzERI/AAAAAAAAAPE/U-auhapmlS8/s1600-h/DSC00825.JPG"></a><br /><br />Spiders can't help being creepy, but it's not the legs or the little hairs or the antennae that I have a problem with, it's their shady demeanor. It's the sneakiness and the lurking in dark corners. That's just rude.<br /><br />I say give me a good old <a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:Daddy_long-legs_spider_1.jpg">Daddy Long-Legs</a>. Any spider willing to install itself on a windowsill, hold itself up to the light and boldly stake its claim earns the right to stay. For a while. They get big points for honesty, and anything that eats mosquitoes and fruit flies is a friend to me. Last Summer one lived in my kitchen window long enough that I named him and fed him by shooing flies into his web as I washed dishes (RIP, Simon).<br /><br />Yes, Spring is the season for cobwebs at Chez Jones. I've changed my dusting habits (?) and learned to appreciate the three-dimensional lace doilies that have taken shape. Even if you haven't seen Charlotte's Web two hundred times, you'd have to feel somewhat guilty for just swiffing away such hard work. Plus, they give any home a genuine rustic feel, and they're way more sightly than those nasty dust-and-insect-carcass dreadlocks that are left hanging around after you try to clean them.<br /><br />I mean, who dusts? Not me, I live in the woods.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-25646791409997390672008-04-28T10:20:00.000-07:002008-04-28T10:23:23.140-07:00InstinctsIf it's not too late already, then hear this: The next time you're browsing the New Releases for a movie and you happen upon <em>The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford</em>, if your instincts tell you that this might turn out to be the most agonizingly boring <strong>two and a half hours</strong> you've spent in a while, trust your instincts.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149807661283754281.post-55693769256034883692008-04-25T10:34:00.000-07:002008-04-25T11:31:58.931-07:00Mama, You Been On My MindMy mom, in a very real and present way, has been hanging around in my house lately.<br />She's never really "visited" me before, in dreams or in waking. She's just been gone from me for the last two years. I've missed her, despite my general lack of crying or dwelling on it. She's missed me, too, ap<em>parent</em>ly. Because she's been jumping out at me from some unexpected places.<br />Of all the knicknacks I have of hers, there are a few gems (literally <em>and</em> figuratively) that I hold very dear. <br /><br />One is a pregnancy book from the seventies that I recently lent to a friend in that predicament. She had it for long enough that when she returned it, it was like getting a long distance phone call from an old friend. I opened it up and saw my mom's signature. "Judy Groves" it said. That handwriting that I knew so well. Her old name from before she was remarried to my stepdad. That signature that I tried so many times to forge, but could never get it right. The pregnancy book was from when she was pregnant with me.<br /><br />I also have these videos that I had converted from old 8mm reels that my sister and I found in the attic after she died. It's footage of my sister learning to crawl and walk, our old dog, birthdays, trips to Kansas, me when I was born, my parents, together, <em>talking to each other</em> (something I never really saw in my lifetime). I can't tell you why, but I've never really watched the videos until a few days ago. I heard my mom talking to baby me in that voice that's so like my own. Heard her laugh at my dad for fondling a snowman I helped him make. Heard her laugh as a new mother, watching my sister make her first cooing sounds. Heard her answer the phone the way she always did, "yyYELlo." It was like she was right there. I don't know when I'll be able to watch those again.<br /><br />Most surreal of all was last week when my dad came to spend the day and we wound up going through "the suitcase." Let me preface this by saying that for the last twenty years, my mom was like "She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" in my dad's house because of my stepmother. She, too, has recently died, giving my dad the newfound freedom to express himself fully. "The suitcase" is full of papers and photos: My mom's grade school report cards, signed by my grandma. Newspaper clippings from when she received various awards in high school. Homework and Essays she wrote in high school and college (she had that same handwriting then, too). Prom pictures, pictures of her and her brothers on the farm, Christmas cards, wedding napkins from my parents' wedding, and long distance letters from my dad from when he was in Vietnam, trying to talk her into staying with him and marrying him. These were why we pulled the suitcase out in the first place. He started reading one and started crying, told me he never stopped loving her, and he put it back with all the other stuff he wanted to keep and said I'd have to rediscover it all again after he died.<br /><br />These are all images of my mom before the ones in my own memory. It's interesting, but not heartwrenching for me like it must have been for my dad. What was heartwrenching for me was last night when I was going through some stuff in Mazzy's room and happened upon a necklace that my mom wore every day I can remember. I had forgotten I had it. I saw it in the bottom of a box and nearly fell over. It's still so sparkly.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaimita/135738360/">Here's one of my very favorite pictures of my mom</a>. I probably don't need to explain why, but she's wearing that necklace, holding baby Maz, right after she shaved her head for the first round of chemo.<br /><br />In a couple weeks is her birthday. She would have been sixty this year. I'll happily drink a couple of "Jack Daniels over with a splash of water"s. You should, too, they're not bad.Mrs. Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10768085834094358783noreply@blogger.com0