9 Crimes

Hi ho! We’re … well, something. Honestly, we’re probably doing what the rest of you are doing, which is merely surviving in this brutal heat. It’s like Florida up in here, which would be fine if I were actually IN Florida, but instead, I’m in Massachusetts, where this kind of thing happens only rarely, and when it does, everyone sort of freezes like a bunch of deer in headlights, and then we bitch about it non-stop. Of course, if the opposite happens, and it is chilly and raining, which is equally possible during the summer, we whine about it like someone ate our firstborn.

We’re miserable people, I guess.

On the Boston front, I’ve been meaning to tell you that after all of that hand-wringing and worry about how I was going to HATE it here and OH, THE STRESS, I … well, as it turns out, I’m home. This is where I think I was meant to end up. For all of its annoyances and failings and frustrations, I really, really love it here. I’d forgotten just how much. It all comes down, I think, to the type of people you can relate to, who make you feel most at home. And, having spent every minute here during the first ten or so years of my adult life, these are the people I recognize the most — the ones who seem like a reflection of myself, and my general outlook.

Oh, and Boston! If you haven’t been, you need to come visit. I am constantly surprised at how lovely it is, and I can say without further qualification that it is my favorite American city, although I may be biased. Maybe.

So there’s that loop. Closed, but in a good way, although I still miss my friends like peanut butter misses jelly. And now! Random bullets!

- What the everloving EFF is going on with True Blood? Look, I’m a fan — a big one — I mean, OBVIOUSLY. But there was all this ridiculous neck-twisting and crazy, upsetting … was that sex? and werewolves with some kind of Nazi tie to vampires and … what? Friends, if *I* am frustrated and cannot, for the everloving LIFE of me, figure out what’s going on, and why any of us are supposed to care, then I fear for the future of the show. Alan Ball, you are on notice.

Speaking of True Blood, you can catch recaps that may shed some light on the subject (or not, as they are probably as confused as we are) on Smart Pop, as done by the authors of A Taste of True Blood (I’ve got episode nine!), and as always, you can catch them on Mamapop, where Kdiddy continues to kill me, season after season. (“Debbie, bless her heart, looks like Tiffany after one too many mall tours.” HA HA HAHAHAHA)

This doesn’t really help me figure out what, exactly, is going on up in here, but at least I can be enterTAINED.

- I became violently, hilariously ill en route to a barbecue this weekend at, of all places, the Natick Mall — oh, excuse me, NATICK COLLECTION, because it is fancy now that it has a Thomas Pink — Adam was dropping his laptop off at the Genius Bar and I took Sam and … oh dear. OH DEAR. And then I ran! To the bathroom! In Lord and Taylor! WHICH WAS CLOSED FOR CLEANING! But I went in anyway and … well, that poor male cleaning guy. And then! There was more! So I went to Macy’s! And my kid SLEPT THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. Apparently high-speed stroller runs through public places followed by the sounds of her mother vomiting are SOOTHING.

(I’m fine now; I think it was something I ate, although I WAS mysteriously queasy on Saturday, too. But most importantly, because I know someone will ask, and then INSIST I AM WRONG: No, I am not pregnant. If I was pregnant, I would not be telling you this story, because I know you’d be onto me with this shiznit.)

(NO, SERIOUSLY.)

(Also, we obviously did not go to the barbecue, which pretty much sucked, but I saw my options as staying home and being miserable OR throwing up at my friend L’s house in front of all of her friends and family. I opted against public humiliation.)

– Sam is at this delightful stage where her version of playing independently means playing with a toy by herself while in my lap, preferably on the floor, although she likes to wrestle on the couch, too. This includes the water table, which means I spent most of this afternoon soaked to the skin, as she found it HILARIOUS to pour water onto herself, and by extension, me. Over and over again. I’d like to pretend I find this irritating, because OH I JUST WANT SOME SPACE!, but in reality, I think it might be my favorite thing ever.

I am acutely, painfully aware at how fast this is all going, despite the fact that she is not yet a year and a half old, and I’m writing this part down for my future self, more than anything: I know people say to appreciate every moment, because it goes so fast and one day, they’re telling you they hate you and asking you to buy tampons, for the love of God, and I have to tell you, I am. I really, really am. I DO appreciate the way her little body feels all snuggled up on mine, and how desperately she wants nothing more than to be with me, her mama.

I have a genuine hormonal reaction when my kid’s all snuggled up in my lap on the couch watching Yo Gabba Gabba (we TiVo it, because I think I’m kind of in love with DJ Lance Rock). I’m just so RELAXED, and it’s not a mental response, it is very, very physical and kind of crazy.

– Speaking of my friend L and the ill-fated barbecue that wasn’t, I was at her house the other day, and PEOPLE! She was waxing philosophical about her Shark steam mop and said (FOR REAL!) that she envisioned her Swiffer WetJet being cast aside, singing mournful tones about a woman from afar, THAT IS HOW MUCH SHE LOVES HER STEAM MOP.

And then Elizabeth wrote about HER Eureka steam mop on Style Lush, and every night, I fantasize about steaming my floors. I have not yet bought either one, but I AM FANTASIZING. A LOT.

I think this means my life is very sad, at least on paper. Very sad, indeed.

*Damien Rice. And did you notice that starting last season, True Blood started naming their episodes for songs? I THINK THEY GOT THAT FROM ME.

26 comments July 12th, 2010