Some people.

Some people need labels, titles, boxes, tiny compartments with a tie for each. Lists, lots of lists, with a check mark. A mark checked off.

Some people need options, they need words in their heads, they need space. Don't ask me what I do, don't ask me what I do. What do you do?

Some people need stories, the same story, over and over, the same story. It's my story. It's your story. What's her story?

Some people need friends and followers and hits, unique hits, I said unique. A day. Every day.

Some people need answers. Not your answers. Their answers. So why are they asking you?

Some people need colors and light and shadows. They need to be touched. They need to be told what kind of people they are.

Some people are good people. I don't believe in bad people.

Some people don't even know they are people. These people, they smile, they suck, they taste, they watch, all for the very first time. They don't care about people. I like these people.

A Good Guest

A Good Guest

(According to Tiffany & Co.)

Arrives slightly late. And leaves on time.
A good guest brings energy and charm and a small present.
A dinner guest engages the person on his right and his left.
A party guest mingles and meets everyone.
A house guest is self-sufficient, not needing constant entertainment.
All good guests write thank you notes.
Very good guests also call the next day.

My guest room is not yet completed (waiting on two more items!), but here's a little peek:

Martina Bench

Books on the bedside table

Fine, I'll blog. (Part 2: Where I've Been, What I Do)

I need to be honest. I don't like coming here. I'm not pregnant anymore, so I'm not sure why there's a big pregnant lady up in the header. And the name? Does it confuse people? This place feels stale. I have a lot to say, but then I think, I'll just wait until the new design goes up, then the posts just pile up in my head and I get anxious and mad and worried. (Seriously? It's just a blog. And seriously, I'm very excited to introduce a new look and feel in the coming weeks.) You know what's awesome? The woman designing my identity is pregnant. I'll introduce her to you in the coming weeks, too.

I visited some of my favorite blogs this morning. They inspire me, they really do, so here is Part 2 of Where I've Been, What I Do. (Read Part 1 here.)

My sweet, beautiful daughter, Elise Lumina (we call her "the girl") is 6 1/2 months now. She's doing all the cute things a 6-month-old should do...sitting and rolling and eating solids and cutting teeth. My first career was a journalist, my second a consultant and my third a Mom. This is by far the best, but I'm working long hours and it's constantly changing. CONSTANTLY.

I've been having a lot of bad dreams lately. For instance, the first owner of my cats, the fat cats I adopted 10 years ago, visited me in my dream. He was trying to break into my home and when he was unsuccessful, he took a drill and unbolted the door.

Last night I dreamt about breastfeeding. I put a lot of time and energy into thinking about breastfeeding. You know, I breastfeed a different way, one that doesn't get talked about a lot. I get sad and jealous when women (and men) talk about the subject of breastfeeding in public. Sometimes I just want to tell them that they're lucky their baby latches on happily. We rarely hear in the mainstream news the struggles that many women have with it. See, I've been pumping four times a day for the past six months to feed the girl. Most of the time it's OK, in fact, it works out great. Other people help me feed her and we can measure her intake. Other times, I want to cry. I want people to tell me that I'm doing an amazing job, that I'm selfless and that I'm sacrificing time and pleasure for the girl. I want someone to tell me that it's ok to stop if I want to. My dream last night? I decided I would stop but then was overwhelmed with guilt. You're not working fulltime right now, what do you mean you're going to stop? I'm not sure what to do with all of this, so for now I think I'll pray about it.

I'm working on a couple of pro bono projects right now. One is an awesome working women's workshop to be held in Chicago this September, the other is a website for my awesome hair stylist. (I know I just used the word awesome twice, whatever.)

I'm also redecorating my guest room/office. These "before" pictures are really embarassing...1. Because I'm a bad photographer and 2. There's nothing on the walls and there's so much clutter. I'll post the "after" pictures on Monday or Tuesday.

So, what are you guys up to? Will you do me a favor and leave a comment? Even just a quick hello. If you blog or you visit other blogs you like, leave the URL so I can visit them. And thanks for reading....

On Going Home (and random thoughts)

The land between Illinois and Ohio is flat, but I saw a lot of beauty in the wide open spaces. Red and white barns with peeling paint, the silos (were they empty?), a tractor that looked so tiny in a field of green. People in the Midwest must live a simpler kind of life, I think.

The girl and I traveled home, just the two of us. At one point we did a dance with a Harley biker, swaying in and out of lanes together. We showed each other respect and trust, and then all of a sudden he sped off and I never saw him again.

What do you call home? I live in Chicago but I say I’m going “home” to Ohio, where my parents live. The girl got to meet her great grandmother for the first time, I was so so happy for that. I took lots of pictures and when I showed them to my husband last night we realized that there’s about 84 years between them. A little baby who loves to smile and eat, and a grown woman with four children, eight grandchildren, three great grandchildren, a career as a nurse, a lot of life experience and opinions. Her life is so full and the girl’s life has just begun.

We also played with cousins, we went to the zoo, I attended a wedding, spent time with friends from high school. One day when my sister and I were sunbathing in the backyard, we saw a deer eating my mom’s daylilies. I'll never know what color they were, my Mom said. A few days later the deer was back with her fawn, her sweet little baby with brown fur and white spots. We understood then why the deer was so hungry.

Going home isn’t a rare occurrence. I’m home a few times a year. This time felt different. I noticed that photo of Neil Young on my closet door. Still there. I thumbed through some mixed tapes…Joni Mitchell and Michelle Shocked. Maybe it felt different because while lying in bed, staring at the blue walls of my bedroom, I could see little fingers and little toes stretching up from the crib against the east wall of my room. I assure you that I dreamt of that baby back in high school. Now's she here, sharing a room with me.

My Mom has been asking me for years to clean out my closet, but I just can't do it. I think the task would be fun (and funny), but it's time-consuming. Let's be honest, too. There are a lot of memories in that closet, and these days I find myself asking questions like, What kind of person was I back then? Did I make time for people? Am I a different person now, or just a different version?

A few minutes before we packed up the car to head home (our Chicago home) I grabbed a stack of letters and cards, most of them postmarked 1996 or 1997. I guess I'm searching for answers to my questions.

Summer Smoothie

Summer, welcome back. I missed you.

Now that you're here, I've been thinking about what you mean to me....fresh fruit, flip flops and smoothies. Mmm, smoothies. You can make this smoothie any time of the year, of course, but nothing says summer to me like a smoothie with fresh, simple ingredients.

What you'll need: 1 cup of orange juice, a handful of fresh spinach and 1 cup of frozen blueberries.

What you'll do: Blend well. That's it. This smoothie is sweet but so good for you. Only 185 calories, no fat and 4 g of protein.


What does summer mean to you?

Depth of Field

I had so much fun last week participating in Beth’s You Capture challenge. I received such a warm welcome from other bloggers and photographers. (I put myself in the blogger category NOT the photographer category, by the way.)

I love this blogger because she has photos of KITTENS! Who doesn’t like kittens? (Only mean people.)

And check out the awesome frog photo on this blog.

Anyway, thanks for all the comments. I love reading your blogs. Seriously, I could spend all day and night reading them. My friend Dave makes fun of me for my love of two things – surfing the Internet and shopping at The Container Store. Both true.

Here’s my sad attempt of a depth of field photo. Have you ever tried Terry’s Toffee? Um, amazing. All that stuff in the background is my life – my laptop, my pump, my remote control, my migraine medicine and my bowl of cereal.


Here’s another photo. It’s not using the depth of field technique (at least I think it's not), it’s just a really cute photo of my baby doing what I call a forward fold yoga pose. Seriously, isn’t she the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Tweeting in my head

On Thursday morning, Baby Elise and I began the eight-hour trip to visit family in Lexington, Kentucky. On our way home, we stopped in Cincinnati for the night and stayed with family friends. We're home now, safe and sound, and I can't help but share with you what went on in my mind in the car for the many, many hours I wasn't singing Ba Ba Black Sheep or Baby Mine.

See, we're a family of worriers. I touched on this briefly during an interview with my Mom for Mother's Day. What I left out was the part when she said, Can we talk about something else? I'm trying to work on the worrying and this is not helping. So it makes sense that a road trip (and its anticipation) is filled with anxiety. I am very afraid of a car accident that would....I can't even go there. These thoughts sometimes wake me up at night.

Speaking of driving, I'm a pretty goody goody too. When I see people jaywalk or talk on their cellphones while driving without a hands-free device, I call them out like the bratty older sister who tells on her brother. That's why I was so happy to learn about Oprah's No Phone Zone campaign. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not perfect. I break the rules, too. In fact, a nice young man named Trooper Collins pulled me over about 20 minutes from my sister's house for speeding (yes, Mom, that's right), and a few times during the trip I talked with friends using my hands-free. But never once did I text or tweet while driving.

This is where I get preachy. I don't care how funny or witty or quick or famous you are, texting and tweeting (and reading your phone, for that matter) while driving are outright dangerous and selfish. You are putting lives, including my child's, at risk. A lot of you have children, too. What you want to tweet or text or post, it can wait. Perhaps any use of the phone (including hands-free talking) while driving is dangerous. I'm willing to consider that, and I know that I'm at fault too.

This is where the preaching ends. On the drive home I stopped at Starbucks just north of Indianapolis to change and feed the baby, and met some nice folks who wanted to know, How old is she? How is she in the car? I got a few tweets in before I hit the road and was SO tempted to pick up my phone the last two hours of the trip. I didn't. Instead, I tweeted in my head and decided to post them here. I know, it may be lame, but did I mention that we're home, safe and sound?

Just met such NICE people at #starbucks in Lafayette, Ind. Had three great conversations with people passing thru just like me.

But why don't all #starbucks have a changing table? Restroom was huge and nothing to put baby on.

(These first two are actual tweets, posted before I turned on the engine.)

@starbucks you could commit to outfit every bathroom with a changing table and get MAD free press from Mom bloggers.

Burger King has a country pork sandwich. Gross.

Wait, country pork sandwich. With onion rings and Dr. Pepper? That actually sounds good.

I'm bored. Seriously.

I love Chicago. Seriously.

Oh, look, @jenniferhgc's hometown. we love you!

If I called @jenniferhgc she might talk me into visiting. I really want to.

I wonder if I'll ever live in a real house again. Like not with stupid boys who live upstairs and take down their xmas tree on March 1.

Hello Chicago, come to mama! I am home.

You can follow me on Twitter, not while driving, here.