I Wrote This

I wrote this. No, I didn't. I didn't? Wait, I didn't write that? Oh. Because I could have sworn I wrote that.

But justice will prevail. Someone will hire me...eventually. I will go back to work, someone will pay me for it, and it will be amazing.

2012. Bring it.

Things I Love: Kitchen Edition

I am not a kitchen appliance person. I don't own a food processor or a microwave. I don't have special gadgets for frying the perfect egg. I don't even have a garlic press. But I do have one thing in my kitchen that I never thought I needed but absolutely love: a salt devil. What the hell is a salt devil? Well, it's this:


What do you do with it? You put salt in the mouth and scoop it out with a spoon when you're cooking. Simple, yet awesome. I use it every single day. Plus it looks supercool on my counter. I love mine so much I've taken to giving them as wedding presents. No one else will get the bride one of these, I promise you! Plus they are lovingly made by hand by two of my favorite people on this earth. Two artists you'd most certainly want to support if you met them in person.

Now through January 10th, Flinn Family Pottery, makers of salt devils and other fine ceramic wares, will give 10% off to anyone who knows me, on the Internets or in real life! Just use coupon code ALANASENTME at checkout.

And don't expect this "Things I Love" gimmick to become a regular thing. I don't do that.

The End.

Merry Christmas!

Mixtape

Every year for Xander's birthday, I make him a mixtape. Well, okay, it's not a mixtape. It's a playlist. For his iPod. Because it's 2011, and we don't even own a tape player. One of Xander's greatest fears is that he'll get old and not know what music is popular anymore, and his children will make fun of him. I mean, they will make fun of him anyway, but I guess he'd like it to be for reasons other than not knowing who The Decemberists are. The Decemberists? Damn. That's Old People Music, isn't it? We're screwed.

(Side note: Remind me to tell you the story of the Adele conundrum.)

(More side note: Xander, if Adele shows up on your playlist, it doesn't mean anything. I swear.)

I can never make a playlist without thinking of the movie High Fidelity, which was apparently also a book. A book? But who played John Cusack in the book? Anyway, there are rules to making a mixtape:

To me, making a tape is like writing a letter — there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again. A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do. You've got to kick off with a corker, to hold the attention (I started with "Got to Get You Off My Mind", but then realized that she might not get any further than track one, side one if I delivered what she wanted straightaway, so I buried it in the middle of side two), and then you've got to up it a notch, or cool it a notch, and you can't have white music and black music together, unless the white music sounds like black music, and you can't have two tracks by the same artist side by side, unless you've done the whole thing in pairs and...oh, there are loads of rules.

I gotta admit that I actually find myself following some of these rules. Although you can totally have white music and black music together now thanks to Eminem. Oh right. And also thanks to the fact that white people have been listening to and ripping off black music since they dragged Africans across oceans without any of their belongings and left them with little to do except work and, well, sing. The only real rule I follow, though, is that every song on the playlist has to have been released in some form that year, and the songs have to be reasonably representative of popular music.

What I love about this annual mixtape ritual is that it causes me to really take some time to think about my husband and who he is. Sometimes the playlist I make caters to his tastes. Other times I deliberately throw in stuff that I know he wouldn't buy for himself. It's a really fulfilling gift on all sides, especially since I then get to enjoy all of the new music I buy for him.

Anyway, Xander was feeling a bit stressed and annoyed from end-of-the-semester exam grading, so I gave him his mixtape--er, playlist--early. I have to say, I'm really proud of it. I think it's one of the best playlists I've made, yet, which came as a surprise because when I initially started putting it together I was skeptical that I would find enough worthy popular songs to fill it. (I mean, I'm sorry, but I'm so over Beyonce and Britney this year.) The next question was whether or not I'd be able to combine so many different songs into a smooth-flowing playlist, but I think I did it! So without further ado, here is the 2011 Birthday Mix lineup:

Rolling in the Deep, Adele
Born This Way, Lady GaGa
What I Do, Chris Webby
E.T., Katy Perry
Make Some Noise, Beastie Boys
Hustle Hard, Ace Hood
New Direction, Black Lips
Up Up Up, Givers
Bad As Me, Tom Waits
Stone Rollin', Raphael Saadiq
Down By the Water, The Decemberists
Shake Me Down, Cage the Elephant
Lonely Boy, The Black Keys
Someone Like You, Adele
Second Chance, Peter Bjorn and John
Little Talks, Of Monsters & Men
Konami, Apparat Organ Quartet
Pumped Up Kicks, Foster the People
Ladder Song, Bright Eyes
Good Feeling, Flo Rida
In Your Eyes, Peter Gabriel

What about you guys? Favorite songs from 2011?

New Things

Speaking of new links, a few days ago I Googled "preschooler behaving like an asshole" and came across this blog. I don't like the title, but the blog posts are pretty damn funny.

And no, I didn't search "preschooler behaving like an asshole" for any particular reason. The phrase just popped into my head, suddenly, for no reason at all. What? You never Google random phrases just to see what you'll find?

Happy Birthday, Everybody!

One of the things I'm going to miss most when the kids get older is my daughter using the phrase "happy birthday" like a compliment. When she's feeling particularly cheerful and loving, she'll look at me and very sincerely say, "Happy birthday, Mama." And I'll say, "Happy birthday, Sistergirl." And we both know that what we really mean is, "I love you."

Roll Call

Hey, folks. I figured if I'm going to be back here again, I should probably update some things...like the links that I haven't updated in about five years. Who's still here? Say hello and post a link to your blog, Etsy shop, or anything else you like, and maybe I'll put it over there for everyone else to see. Bonus points for the best Rick Roll.

Apologies to all of my Internetland buddies that I've been neglecting, by the way. I'm sorry. I've been busy. Really, really, really busy.

Insecurities: An Update

Clearly I do have some insecurities. Last night, I dreamed that Xander left me for Zooey Deschanel.* I woke up from this nightmare, thankfully, but then proceeded to fall asleep again and dream that I dropped a bag of eggs and broke them all. Gosh, do you think I might be worried about my ticking biological clock? What does it all mean? It's just so hard to read dreams like these...


*My subconscious's choice of seductress was clearly prompted by a recent discussion about She & Him's version of The Date Rape Song.

Big Butts

Well, I must be feeling super contemplative right now. I went over to cuz' Brie's blog a few days ago, and she's got this funny bit up about how she's feeling post-pregnancy. And after I finished chuckling, because I can totally hear her saying all that stuff in my head, I started thinking about self esteem and women and big butts and all the associated stuff. So I posted this comment:

Do you think being open about physical insecurities helps our self-image? Or do you think it hurts? On one hand, I think maybe it makes other women feel better to hear that they aren’t the only ones who have insecurities. But then I wonder if hearing other women worry prompts further scrutinizing of ourselves and others? I remember my mother used to talk very openly about how she felt old or had wrinkles or had gained weight in her thighs, and I remember being insanely obsessed about these things while I lived at home. I’m not [lacking confidence] now, but I wonder if I would have been more confident if she had displayed more confidence? (Just to be clear, this is not a comparison to Brie, who is awesome and a fantastic mom.) I’m also thinking of a work party I went to where a woman walked into the bathroom and said to me, “Don’t you just feel like a fat pig sometimes?” And the truth was no, I didn’t. But I felt very aware of the fact that female culture dictated that I was then supposed to say something like, “Yeah, my ass is huge!” Do you think this is a culture we create? Or do you think it just IS no matter what we say and do?

(Just for clarification, my mom is a wonderful person, and I don't at all blame her for how she was feeling back then. I just think she was subject to all of the insecurities that women are subject to, especially when they become mothers themselves.)

A few weeks ago, I went to this hippy-dippy pole dancing class at a studio here as part of my exploration of all things circus, and it turned out to be very stripper-ish in the name of improving women's self-image. I shouldn't have been surprised, since the studio is called "Fit for a Goddess." The class was actually kinda fun, but I wasn't expecting it to be so blatantly geared toward women who are feeling insecure about their bodies. On one hand, it's great that people are aware of this and are looking for ways to counteract negativity. On the other hand, it made me sad that there's a need for this at all. That just the exercise of it and the necessary physical awareness required for any athletic endeavor isn't enough to give women confidence.

So since I'm still thinking about this, and since I know most of you wonderful reader people are ladies--although the menfolk are welcome to chime in--I thought I'd post it here, too. What do you guys think? Does being open about physical insecurities help women? Or does it hurt?

Yule Tide

It's holiday time in Hawaii. This past weekend, we went downtown to Honolulu Hale for the tree lighting. It was great fun. The atmosphere was a lot like a carnival, complete with kiddie rides and food vendors selling impossibly unhealthy (and delicious) snacks. The Christmas decorations around downtown are fantastically tacky. We'll have photos at a later date, but for now I will just say that I've never seen anything like it. It's wonderful.

In other news, a Hawaii broadcaster just announced the Obama family's plans for their Hawaii vacation. Yes, they broadcast that here just as soon as they know. And you might think it's frivolous, but when there are only about three or four major highways to get people from point A to point B, knowing the Obamas will be occupying the windward transit routes is valuable information.

Here at Chez Cole-Faber we're all decked out for the holidays, much to the twins' delight. Of course they helped decorate. It was pretty cute watching them agonize over which ornament to put on the tree. "Should it be the heart, the snowman, the bell? The universe hangs in the balance..." Our tree is a small artificial one, which is just perfect in our apartment. And boy are we glad we brought it with us! It turns out real trees, most of which are brought over from the mainland, go for anywhere between $10 and $20 a foot. A foot! A woman told me she paid $40 for one that isn't even three feet tall. No, thank you. I will continue enjoying my plastic tree for free. (Not really free, you say, but if we use it for enough years the price eventually becomes free. So says a mathematician.)

Despite successfully resisting mainland Christmas trees by carefully avoiding places they are sold, I admit that it is really hard not to fall victim to that enticing evergreen scent. While walking through a store to buy soy milk the other day, I got an unexpected whiff of forest. I couldn't even see what was producing it, but I smelled my way down an aisle and landed upon a display of Christmas wreaths fresh off the boat. They smelled wonderful, but I knew buying one would go against my commitment to use only Christmas decorations I already had or that were produced locally using local materials. So what did I do? I bought the wreath! I set aside my morals right then and there and snatched one up, then felt remorseful as soon as I left the store. But it's not my fault. I was ambushed! No one could have survived that! For the record, my entire apartment smells like woodland, so I am no longer sorry.

In my opinion, our apartment is missing just one thing: a roaring fire. I have been trying to talk Xander into getting a yule log DVD instead. Those must exist, right? He says it would be funny for about ten seconds. I think having a fire roaring in your television when company comes to visit in Hawaii is hilarious anytime. Readers? Opinions? I'm right, aren't I?