the open road. the very boring open road.

O dios mio! I made it.

I've been in CA for two weeks now. And my, what a journey it was.

Thank you I-80. I thoroughly enjoyed the the complete nothingness of Wyoming. 

That was only topped the barren wasteland that is Nevada. In fact, Nevada was so fantastic that Mr. Pickles decided to leave part of his side-view mirror somewhere along I-80. Yep, it just blew right off. I guess he decided he'd rather fall apart than continue through Nevada. Oh Mr. P, you so silly!

When all was said and done we spent 1395.2 miles on the road. I learned a number of things. 

1. Letting kitty be free in the car = no bueno. Apparently Storm, the wonder cat, likes to go down by your feet and hang around the pedals that make the car go vroom.

2. Baby will NOT just cry herself to sleep.

3. Battle Mountain, NV. Don't do it. 

4. Multiple days of McDonalds does not a happy digestive track make.

5. Mr. Pickles, aside from literally falling apart on the road, could stand to have cruise control. A sore calf from 3 days with a manual tranny really makes me feel like a wuss.

Other than that, we're here. Back in the land of the white fire hydrants, serious highway congestion, sunshine, earthquakes, and loads of family who make this journey and move worthwhile. Or at least they better.

migrating west

So this is about to happen. In nine short days.

What's happen you ask? 1300 miles.

One thousand, three hundred miles of highway. Of time to remember my 5 years in Denver with love. Of time to think about the next chapter. Of sadness to leave a city that made me who I am today. Of excitement to live closer to my family for the first time in 9 years.

One thousand, three hundred miles to yell at the damn cat who gets anxiety in the car. And meows. A lot.

One thousand, three hundred miles of hoping the beebee stays asleep most of the day. Of hoping Mr. Pickles enjoys his first major road trip. Of pee breaks and beef jerky.

Ahhh, California. How I never I thought I'd go back to you. It's adventure time.

Jobless and babyfull....talk about your leap of faith. I guess I better start packing.

can't argue with facts

Yep. On my journey to a milfy bod, I gave in and had some cookies today. Two, to be specific. Fresh, warm, chocolately, melty, chippy goodness.

I planned to take a picture of my sinfully delicious treat, but when I looked down, it was gone. Gone to the safety of my tumtum.

So that's that.

back at work, fat squirrels, wieners.

I've gone back to work this week. Maternity leave is over.

And my work computer has been officially dusted off. Emails have been sorted (AKA deleted). Small talk has been made.

And these two images were re-discovered on my computer's desktop.

 

What kind of life do I lead?

Apparently one where I find humor in chubby animals and vintage hot dog ads.

PSL in my belly!

Ohhhh mouthgasm. Pumpkin. Spice. Latte.

I effing love Fall. This afternoon I ordered my first PSL of the season. Overpriced, pumpkin-y goodness.

As soon as it was in my car, it filled Mr. Pickles with an aroma that comforted me like a hug. My smell-memories associated with PSLs are all good. All of them. It made me think so many conversations. Giggles with my cousin while lounging around. Important chats with important friends, lovers, acquaintances. Hellos and goodbyes.

And, no. I don't think it's a coincidence that in the picture the cup appears to be glowing in all its glory.

Sometime in the process of ordering my tasty treat, removing and replacing baby carseat in the car, and driving home, I cut my knuckle open. It bled all over my finger. And I didn't even notice until about ten minutes ago.

THAT, my friends, is the power of PSL.

so today i colored my hair

I'm coloring it as we speak. It sits atop my head in a big, tangled, chemically-smelling mess. Actually it's toppled slightly forward into some weird punk 'do.

I'm going for some extra sass with color number 53. Medium Golden Brown. waaa-waaaaaaa. There is absolutely nothing exciting about that name. Aren't they supposed to come up with clever names for colors to make them more appealing?

I shall rename it Budget Brown (also not exciting, but true to the reasons why I purchased it).
I've never used this brand of box color before. I've never tried to color grown-out blond highlights on my own before. And I've never used a foaming mousse type of dye. So I guess we'll just see what happens to my hair.

Fingers crossed it doesn't fall out! But, budget-friendly Montastic can not only NOT afford to go get her hurrrr did, she can't afford a box of hair color that ISN'T on sale. And this one was.

Anyhoo...that's what I'm up to today, whilst the beeb is asleep. It's my last week home with the lil porkchop. Then, it's back to work I go on Monday. It's truly amazing how little you can get done in 9 weeks at home while trying to keep a baby human happy.

I'll see you soon, and I'll be Budgetly Brunette.

what's in the case?

Another walk. Another sign.

This one intrigued me. Is this for real? It's quite a nice sign. It even has a suitcase graphic. 

But seriously, who carries a red suitcase anymore?  And what's in it? It makes me think of the bat phone---red and signifying trouble.

I wonder if it was lost at the show club in the background. That might make sense. Questionable characters carrying questionable suitcases. Sigh....if only my curiosity could be satisfied.

read what?

I've been walking. A lot. Most of the time, like today, I walk on a trail that runs along a creek.
This means two things:
1. My ass is toning nicely, obviously.
2. Not much changes when it comes to the scenery.

 

Today though, I saw a sticker on a sign. From far away it read "READ BOOKS." Upon closer inspection it turned out to be something much more fantastic.

 

 Point taken. And bravo the good use of profanity--I'm a fan.

Also,  I don't remember the last time I read a really good book. Or read any book for pleasure for that matter.

Rats! So much for the intellectual persona I try to maintain. Better head to the bookstore.

the maiden voyage, 51 pounds, hot flashes

Today I took my sweet new kicks for their maiden voyage - a jog at the gym. I had planned to be on the treadmill for 30 minutes, with baby by my side (sound asleep in the carseat). Well, that soundasleepness only lasted about 17 minutes and then apparently it was time for a change of scenery.

So walking we went. Me. Babe. Roboknee. Aforementioned sweet new kicks.

Here's the deal. Montastic ballooned while pregnant. A jollier 51 pounds in fact.

Granted a lot of that was gone once the baby made her great escape. So we're looking at about, oh...hmm.. 19 pounds left to go to pre-baby weight. 30 to wedding weight. 40 to happy Montastic weight. And 110 to Kelly Ripa weight. Seriously have you seen her? Skeletal. No thank you. I like hot dogs too much.

Anyway, I don't think anyone tells you about the ghastly trainwreck of a body you are left with after having a baby. For the delicious details of the destruction...go somewhere else. This isn't that kind of blog. As much as most new moms enjoy the oversharing of deets (of which I've heard plenty), I'm not most new moms. Suffice to say that swollen extremities and stretch marks aside...you will be destroyed.

Oh and you get hot flashes at 27 years old. So while I'm plodding along with SNK (sweet new kicks), my newer, spongier belly jiggles in the summer breeze, and a trail of hot-flashy sweat is left in my wake.

So here's to you SNK. Help me clean up this trainwreck and get back to the glamorous. Ooh the flossy flossy.

MUST. GO. BOOGYING.

I'm starting to feel the itch. The itch to go boogy.

If my calculations are correct, I have not been boogying in oh...10 months?

Better start practicing my sick moves in front of el babe.

oh that's right, i had a baby.

Appropriate that my last post was about my post-baby body. That same day I went in for a routine preggo appointment and came home 4 days later with a baby. I ended up needing to be watched overnight that night at the hospital. The next day I was told I would be induced. And the next day I had a baby.

No big deal.

Crazy to think I wasn't even due until this past Sunday. Instead, I have a 3.5 week old. Wowie Kazowie.

So, motherhood you ask?

Not what I expected. Then again, neither was the whole having-the-baby process. Minor medical complications and a 4-night hospital stay coupled with the abrupt news that the baby would be here 3 weeks earlier than planned pretty much threw me right into the gauntlet.

Thank goodness she's OHMYGOSH soooo cute!

Annnnnd, now I'm on maternity leave for a number of weeks. Admittedly, I've become a regular dairy farm. And amidst the lactose-o-rama and hundreds of poop-bombs...Montastic needs a new a hobby.

Requirements for said hobby:
1. Can be done in 2-hour increments (or less).
2. Can be paused at any moment.
3. Is really inexpensive and/or free.
4. Is preferably creative (reading books, for example, is a terrible suggestion.)
5. Requires me to use my brain.
6. Is something for just me, unrelated to babyness or motherhood.

Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions?

the plan for my post-baby body

obvs.

via Copyranter

Avoid the cavity creeps!

Easily my favorite line on this poster. I'm pretty certain this isn't nor was it ever a real poster for safe sex and condom usage. However, I rather enjoy it.

I also enjoy The Pleasure Graph...as I very much enjoy visual data. It turns on my nerd receptors. Ooooh yes. That's the stuff.

And if some presumptuous guy were to get called out by a girl for carrying a condom...and he replied with "I take it everywhere I take my penis," well, he pretty much deserves to get some action.

Bravo.

Mr. Pickles, decent once again

Oh my, Mr. P! How dapper you look.

Sorry it took so long to replace your hub caps. I know you were naked for way too long.

But now.....now you are dark and mysterious and more glorious than ever.

It's no wonder my mom always liked Cinderella.

 

Good ol' Walt... starring go-getter women since way back when. 

Longer I Run - Peter Bradley

it's a beauty.

summa!

Happy first day of Summer!


I guess that means it's time for me to expose my pasty legs to the world. And to start sweating even more. And it means it's ALMOST time for baby to burst out. Yikes.

I don't know about you, but it has definitely been hot, hot, hot in D-town. It's been hangin in the 90s and let's just say Montastic is not a fan this year.

Something tells me there is an excessive amount of icy cold popsicles in my future.

Leonid Afremov - my new favorito artist

I wish I could buy them all.
Here are just a couple of the amazing paintings by artist Leonid Afremov.

I can't get enough of the colors, the imagery, the awesomeness. He sells hundreds of prints on his Deviant Art page. And larger scale images on his personal site. 

Man oh man...I want want want waaaaaaant these. I've been scrolling through his prints for about the last 45 minutes. Each one offers something slightly different from the next. 

Well, it IS my birthday this weekend. And I was going to get myself a new pair of purple-framed glasses. But alas, when I went to buy them they were out. Perhaps it's time to invest in some of this fantastico art.

Hope you enjoy these even half as much as me.

miscellanity

- no matter how good i am with my other 8 digits, i always bite the nails on my thumbs. i wonder what i have against them.

- i'm pretty sure that being almost 27 means my life-changing year was 3 years ago. and i'm pretty sure that means that my arthritic knees are getting closer to being age-appropriate.

- lately, OMG DONUTS.

- in roughly 9 weeks i'm going to be in charge of another human's life. shouldn't there be some sort of prerequisite for this responsibility? besides sex.

- it's been way too long since i purchased some new jams. any suggestions? i'm open to any mind-blowing, leg-boogying tunes.

- also, this:

- and this:

drink it through a crazy straw

What song are you listening to?

Such a simple question, and so revealing of people. LOVE this idea.

Walk around your city (New York in this case) and ask people with headphones what song they're listening to.


Some people are listening to what you might expect (the guy listening to Marley for example). And others are surprising (the Gaga fan).

It's so interesting to me to see what soundtrack people are giving their day-to-day life. I don't ever wear my headphones as I walk around town. Unless I'm exercising, crankin on some work at my desk, or on an airplane (to distract me from my anxiety of flying) my headphones stay at home.

I generally feel like they block out the experience of your environment. I guess that's why this video double interests me...people who choose to block out some external noises for other ones that they choose.

Hmm. It begs the question---what song are YOU listening to right now?

Me? I'm listening to Mike Doughty - Rising Sign.

can't wait for this weekend

Montastic is headed off to CA to see some fam and friends...and likely experience awkward bump-touching.

writing snobbery and bbq ribs

Let's just say I've had a chance to look at some resumes/portfolios/etc from up-and-coming writers.

And I don't mean to be a snob, but...I kind of do. Here we go.

First, let me start by saying that writing this makes me feel like some old, washed-up veteran of the industry. After 5 years in it, I think I've earned that crotchety title.

If I could offer a few pointers to those out there, wanting to be the next me (professionally speaking, that is), I would suggest the following:

- Don't get crafty with your resume. Horizontal type. Black and white. Nothing too long.

- Include important information. For example, if you list a degree...please list where it came from.

- Google yourself and see what comes up before you start applying. Remove any not-so-charming content from the internets. Because I've googled all y'all.

- If you list links to your social media sites on your resume, make sure you don't have a blog post about how you don't want to be a *%$!@#$! writer.

- Address your cover letter to the right name.

- Please please please pleeeeease don't improperly capitalize headlines. And watch your punctuation. This is a writing job after all.


Ok...enough snobbery. Let me see how I stack up against my own suggestions.
My resume is short and to the point. It does have some gray on it. BLAST! But all pertinent info is there.

Upon googling myself I find my Linkedin profile, links to my Facebook fundraising pages for the 3-Day Komen walk for breast cancer awareness, and some other random links that are no longer active.

However, if you were to search my maiden name, this blog comes up. As does a recent post about how pregnancy makes me wet myself. Well...I've been bested by my own system. That's what I like to call "keepin it real gurrrrrl."

On a related note, I tripped over this in the blogosphere this morning and can only hope to receive such a letter of interest.

Oh, and the bbq ribs? We made some this weekend and they were amazing.

Seven Deadly Princesses

Artsy fartsy time. I stumbled across these a while ago, and then re-found them this morning. 

The 7 deadly sins as inspired by Disney princesses. Check them out. So cool. 

My favorite princess was always Jasmine. Not because I spent time trying to decide which princess was most like me or most wonderful. I'm not girly enough to do that. Plus, let's face it, the princesses of my growing up days (before the empowering-women craze and political correctness overkill hit the children's movies industry) were all pretty useless and dependent on men. 

Anyhoo, Jasmine was my fav because Aladdin was my favorite Disney movie. And Aladdin is a hottie. Om nom nom.

Of these pieces, however, the Snow White one is my favorite. The colors and design--swoon! Now if only I had ivory skin, a 7-man harem, and a penchant for apples.

How To Creep Me Out

I don't feel like this picture needs much explanation. Let's just set the scene.

It's time to celebrate a special event. You compile the guest list, send the evite, plan a lovely evening of of good food, good friends, and good wine. As everyone arrives, you make sure to bring out your finest drinkware for the occasion.

Don't have doll-head wine glasses? Just make them. You creep-o.

Nothing screams horror movie baby shower to me more than these wine glasses.

Well...not true. Maybe these do:

Fetus-shaped cookies of course. Courtesy of the best cookie cutter ever.

Consider this a warning if I ever host a baby shower for you.

i'm a hater

of cilantro, that is.

And being part mexican, and loving all things salsa and mexican food-y...I often feel misunderstood.

Oh well. Yahoo understands me. Today it featured a little sumpin-sumpin about cilantro, and how polarizing it. Apparently I'm not alone-- people either love it or they hate it. Haters unite!

So take that cilantro. You smelly, creepy little bastard. I am justified in my lack-of-love for you. Now, please join your other evil pals. I call them "The Three Cs" as they are three things whose taste I despise, and whose flavor I feel takes overs the taste and aroma of anything they are used in.

Cilantro, obviously.
Cucumbers. Ugh. Don't get me started. These things are disgust-a-mundo.
Celery.  Do you WANT me whine anymore? I didn't think so.

Happy Cinco De Mayo, as a staple of mexican cuisine takes a verbal lashing from Montastic. Adios muchacho.

I got your pregnancy glow right here.

When I sneeze, or even cough, or slightly lean forward...it's very likely that I have peed myself.

Like an excited pup. Except I'm not usually excited. I just have a wonderful glow in my pants region.

Adorable.

In other news, the best book cover I've ever seen ever ever ever. Maybe it's the laser beams. And definitely that subtitle.

Brilliance. Even more of such geniousness at Let's Panic's website.

One of the sections I found most enjoyable was Pregnancy Through the Ages. I mean with gems like these, how could you argue?:

"50 B.C. Julius Caesar is allegedly born by his-own-section; his mother, Aurelia, survives the crude operation while simultaneously inventing a salad.

1 A.D. An alleged virgin gives birth, claiming that the father is “God.” Zeus and the Holy Ghost have a good chuckle over the futility of paternity suits filed against supernatural entities.

1806 A.D. Doctors begin to think about washing their hands before attending to birthing women. It’s not so much to kill so-called “germs” as to drown the “infection fairies” and “puerperal fever pixies” in basins full of tainted well water."



Thank you to the glorious creators of this site, as I'm completely sick of people talking about pregnancy like it's some magical beautiful passageway to womanhood.

The bottom line is that I have a mutually beneficial relationship with blob-like creature inside me. And I love her very very much.

some wordy things I like

While I haven't been too wordy myself these days, I certainly find wordy things that inspire me, make me think, take me back, or bring me home.  I'll let you decide which type these qualify as.

Todd Thibaud - Suppose

le sigh.

bye-bye diagonals

Well, a great change as home to the streets of D-town. The elimination of the diagonal crosswalks. Sigh. My world is changing around me.

I guess I should have seen this coming. Change, that is. 

June marks 5 years that I've here. Five. Whole. Years. 

I remember when I first moved and was unhappy since I didn't know anybody...and I was hopeful to make it one year here before I moved. Then, something happened. Something I like to call enamorment. Is that a word? I don't care. I fell in love with Denver, from top to bottom. From buildings to diagonal crosswalks.

Anyone who visited me was so thrown off by the diagonal crosswalks that a conversation about them has happened on multiple occasions.

Ahhh, the memories of past visitors, youthful city nights, and crosswalk confusion.

You will be missed my cherished crosswalk friends. 

And with your disappearance from this city, I suspect mine will soon follow.

My hoopty.

Mr. Pickles is missing a hubcap.

I have no idea where he lost it. All I know is that he has also lost some self-respect, as he is partially nude.

Poor Mr. P. We'll find you some knew hubcappies soon.

children. sleeping. a different perspective.

Via Awesomenator.

Even though I'm not a child, this seemed rather appropriate today. You see, I only got 4 hours of sleep. Not intentionally. I went to bed at a normal time, which would have allowed for 7 hours of sleep. But I was restless. So now I'm running on minimal caffeine and excitement for that wonderful moment when my head hits the pillow again tonight.

That being said, this photo series by photographer James Mollison is lovely. They are part of his book Where Children Sleep and show images of children alongside a picture of where they sleep and a blurb about them and their life. From the US to around the world, it's amazing how different each child's environment and culture shape the way they live, they way they grow up, and what eventually become their hopes and dreams.

Homeless in Italy.

Pageant girl in Kentucky.

Young worker in Nepal.

It's worth checking out. And thinking about next time you lay down in your comfy cozy bed. Even if you DO only get 4 hours of sleep.

those XX chromosomes

Ohhh....to dream of Dos Equis beer in my tummy.

That will have to wait as the only XX in there are the chromosomes for my future baby girl. That's right folks. Montastic, the antithesis of pink, is having a little miss thang.

And I couldn't be more excited!

4 more months before I get to meet her, and 4 months to fend off the suffocating waves of pink that will inevitably drown me.

I mean, I'm not entirely opposed to the color. After all, it IS a little girl. I mean, I am currently working through a stack of neon pink post-its. So that's gotta mean something. Right? The problem with pink is that it has its pastel-y little hands gripped tightly on the baby industry. And it doesn't plan to let go. Pink is a bully.

I mean, of course future-baby can wear pink. She's a girl. Other people like to give pink things... And I'm sure that's all we'll get...as it's mostly what they make for baby ladies.

But the way I see it, it won't be for a while that she's able to tell us what she likes to wear and what color she likes. So until she can enunciate "pink," mama will opt for purple. or yellow. or green. or the rest of the rainbow.

Um, wants it.

via the internets

Before I die...and things I wish that were.

Gulp. Inspiration, at last! Thank you Candy Chang. From her website, "Candy Chang is a public installation artist, designer, urban planner, and co-founder of Civic Center who likes to make cities more comfortable for people."

Well, pretty much I fell in love with her installation "Before I Die."
She covered this ramshackle building:

with this brilliant fill-in-the-blank stencil:

And three short, humanity-driven days later, it filled up with magic.

Responses range from "have fun" to "create a life" to "go 200 mph" to "understand." 

HOW. EFFING. COOL.

Her site details the project. Please check it out, as it's wonderful. She says that once the board fills up, they wash it clean and the process starts again. It's no surprise that other people have shown interest in her installation and putting it up elsewhere.

I'd love to have this on my wall, so I can add to it as I discover new life goals and desires. That being said, I really should start a list...mental or otherwise.

Another project of hers that is similarly interactive is her "I Wish This Was" installation.

Also simple, thought-provoking, and lovely.

What I love about this project, is that it's taken on its own life. Go to the site. Buy stickers. Stick 'em places. Use 'em. Love 'em. 

Candy was inspired by her neighborhood in New Orleans, that still has many abandoned buildings and storefronts. Her installation helps give people a voice, and helps give us an look into the simple things people wish that were.

The nerd in me wants to point out that the grammatically correct sticker should read "I wish this were" as it's the proper subjunctive case. Yet she manages to even address that on her site, saying that she feels "was" is more conversational. Agree to disagree Candy, though I do agree that it's more conversational. and I heart you even more for acknowledging the grammar nazis. 

Briangasm on a Thursday.