Damn I'm Lazy

Yes, it's been awhile since I've been here, dear reader. I was going to use the excuse that I've been writing my first great novel for NaNoWriMo and must use every single keystroke for the purpose of completing that 50,000 word project. Well, it is now day 11 of the month and I've only got 2,800 words down. AND it sucks. As I'm writing I'm realizing I don't know how to write fiction, how to write dialogue or develop characters. Now if the story involved a report assessing a child's speech and language, I'd do a great job, but sadly I don't think that would be defined as "fiction".

I suppose the novel would be better if a) I had more time to write and b) I made more time to write. See, it's really just Buffy's fault. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that is. This summer I started renting all of the show's DVDs and am now a full on addict. You really should watch some if you never have before. I'm on season six and the good news is that it only ran seven seasons, however, there is a spin-off series called Angel that I believe ran another seven seasons. Gulp.

Hopefully I will kick myself in the rear and get writing and my story will magically get better. But nothing will ever compare to Joss Whedon, so why am I even bothering??

Cyber Stalking

That's what it's come down to. I'm separated from most of my loved ones as I have chosen to reside in a cute Midwestern suburb. I've made a few friends but my old and cherished ones, as well as most of my family, are far away. How do I cope with this constant loss? Well, I peer into their lives as much as possible via social media forums. Facebook is a particular fave. I read it like some read the morning paper - scouring it for the latest news and gossip in my friends' and families' lives.

And then there are the few ex-boyfriends on there that I just can't resist checking in on. I mean, really, when else in history did we have the chance to snoop into an old flame's life so frequently without the cops issuing a restraining order? Most of them (not like there are that many) are leading the same boring life as me - professional, 2.2 kids, living in the suburbs, maybe forming a cover band to play at block parties if they used to be in bands in college; you know the type. But occasionally I get to peer into a life that is way different then mine - the life of the serial monogamist.

Take for instance a past love, I'll call him Rick, whose been engaged 3 times since we broke up in 1994 but never married. I've read his "wall" where he and his girlfriend at the time would exchange lovey-dovey messages, announce that they're moving in together only to post a month later "Rick went from being in a relationship" to "single". This has happened twice in the last two years. I feel guilty even looking at such personal news, but then again, it's out there. Maybe he's even reading this post right now. I guess I'll know soon if I'm "unfriended".

So yes, pathetic as it may be, I do it. I bet you do too - why else would you be here?
Oh and, please don't unfriend me!

Keep On Writing On

Wow - I was just going through my blog roll and I've noticed that many of my friends blogs out there are inactive. Where are you people? I for one know it's mentally straining to maintain a blog, come up with a creative topic that's not going to bore the 5 regular readers you have, then sit down with some free time to actually write the dang thing. But this masochist won't give up, dammit, and neither should you!

Even though my posts aren't that regular, I refuse to admit defeat. I will continue to pick my brain for oh-so fascinating topics such as sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. Oh wait, I'm a suburban mom now so I guess it will rather be subjects like martial hardship, self-medicating with alcohol and singin' the I'm Getting Old blues. And since I really love to torture myself, I've recently signed on for NaNoWriMo and will be writing a 50,000 word novel (that's 175 words, baby) during the month of November. Yeah right, you're thinking. Well, me too but November's a ways away and probably by that time I'll be snowed in the house anyway. Come join me and we'll be novelists together!! I can already tell mine will be somewhere along the lines of Judy Blume's Forever meets Jim Carroll's (RIP) Basketball Diaries meets whoever wrote Bridget Jones' Diary, but a little low-brow writing lightens the soul, right?

Now off to help needy children communicate.

Birthday Parties are Ruining the World!

Look at all that junk up there. It looks pretty for a few minutes but then what happens to it?

Although I've lost my fervor a bit about this issue since my kid's birthday party was a couple of weeks ago, I still want to vent about this. Birthday parties, especially children's, are killing the universe. Strangling it, poisoning it. And I'm just as much to blame as the next schmo or schmoess. Think about, from the balloons to the crappy plastic party favors to the plastic forks and knives used to eat the crappy pizza and grocery store-bought cake, which probably has more plastic crap on top of it, you're doing more damage to the planet in one day than you probably do in a few months. Add some more plastic crappy games you buy for a jacked-up price at the party store, like pin the crown on the princess or Superman bingo, combined with the cheesy plastic tablecloths with pictures of Disney characters you use once since the sugared-up kids get all their pizza grease and cake frosting all over it. All this equals one big earth unfriendly event.

This is why I, most superior mother of the year, didn't really give my son (you know, the one to whom I so lovingly wrote the poem below) a birthday party. Sure, I still contributed to killing the planet by ordering pizza, buying a few crappy party favors and using Superman paper plates, but I just didn't put forth much energy in throwing him a party. I mean really, he doesn't exactly have any friends. Poor kid. He'll play with his big sister's pals and our neighbors, but sadly there are no boys his age around so he spends a lot of time with the ladies. So it was a very simple event with a few neighbors eating pizza and cake and running around outside our house. I threw a few plastic fish in a dirty ole' paint bucket and voila! Fishing game!

Boy am I a bad suburban mom.

My Baby is Four

(Bear with me as I attempt to write a poem. I'm feeling pheklempt).

Four years ago, like yesterday.
I can still feel the burn, still hear the screams,
Coming from me.
(Didn't know I could even make those sounds).
I can feel your warmth and wetness in my arms
As your head bobbed around
Looking for nourishment.
I can smell the yeasty scent in your skin
And my own perspiration.

And later, when your big sister came in
Smothering you with kisses
I was nervous that you were getting smothered
But I tried to let her learn to love you
As I did.

Time went faster with you, the baby brother.
Held you in the sling most of the time
As I followed big sister around.
Soon you were on the move,
And even talking some.
Getting too big for that sling, or maybe I was just too small.

You've turned into a boy,
On your way to becoming a man.
Well, someday.
I guess you need to learn to read and write first.
But everyday you get a little smarter,
A little faster,
A little taller.
I'll try and grow with you.
Try and keep up.
All the while admiring you from a distance.

La Grange named Best Downtown by Chicago magazine

Yes, my town is cute - it's unanimous!

Village named Best Downtown by Chicago magazine - La Grange, IL -

The Art of Tarof-ing

Oh man, it's embarrassing to see the date of my last post. In order for you to forget how long it's been since I've written, dear readers, I will distract you by giving you compliments. You look so nice tonight! Have you lost weight? I love what you're doing with your hair!

Now, on to the topic at hand. What the heck does the title of my post mean? Well, if you know anything about Persian culture, you probably know. Tarof is a Persian word. It's a verb and while it doesn't have an easy translation in English, it basically means being extremely polite and not coming off as a selfish pig. Since I am married to a man who is half Persian and now live close to a lot of relatives on that side of the family, I have had to learn about and acquire many aspects of the culture. I must say, I really do love it, although at times I have put my foot in my mouth. Who me??? For example, one of my hubby's uncles or amoos (he's not really even an uncle but we just call all close family friends that) was telling me that his brother and sister-in-law were coming for a visit. "Oh great", I said, "and how long are they staying?" My father-in-law glared at me and said, "In our culture we don't ask how long our guests will stay. It is considered very rude". Gulp. I guess you're just supposed to buy a month's worth of extra food and hope for the best.

And to tarof is a very complicated interaction between people. It's really a set of rules of politeness that carry over to all sorts of situations. Basically anything that you want, you can't ask for and if it's offered to you, you should act like you don't want it. Now me being a very opportunistic type of person has a hard time with this. So if you go to someone's house and they offer you a very comfortable chair, you should say, oh no, you take it. I'll sit on the floor. If they offer you some tea, you should say, oh no, that's too much work for you. If it's time for dinner and you haven't eaten in a week and you're feeling faint, you must insist on everyone going ahead of you. It's such a civilized concept, huh? I found this adorable video of a man teaching his sons about tarof:



So now you have it. Next time you go to someone's house, try it out. I think you will score major points in your hosts' eyes and they may even look at you as a sophisticated person. So with that , I say goodnight. Go ahead, you close the page first. No really, I insist. Please. Here - just take my computer - I don't really even need it... .