The Policy of Truth

Normally Mikah was the sort of boy who prided himself on his unflinching honesty, but with the cold hard edge of a gun barrel pressed against the thin skin of his temple, he opted instead for discretion.

"I would be delighted to help you," he said, stretching his mouth into a toothy grin.

"Thought so," grunted the girl, but the gun didn't waver.

"Perhaps we can put the... weapon away, and discuss your needs?"

"Gun's not goin' anywhere," said the girl, although she did take a step back so it was no longer directly touching his flesh.  She held it the way other girls might hold a cell phone- like an extension of her body over which she had perfect control.  Mikah briefly considered trying to wrestle it away from her, looked again at the carved muscle of her shoulder, and decided against it.

"So, Miss...?"

"Ms, thank you very much," she snapped.  "This ain't the fifties."

"Of course not, Ms.  Ms...?" he tried again.

"Ms. is fine.  You ain't got any more need for my name than I have for yours.  All you need is to believe that I will pistol-whip the shit out of you if you try to take my gun."

"I wouldn't-" he protested, but she snorted.

"You're a shit liar.  Saw you considerin' it not thirty seconds back."

"Yes, well, you'll notice I didn't do more than consider," he said, dryly.  "Physical altercations don't tend to end in my favor."

"Now that I believe.  Stand up."

Ruby Slippers Galore

I've already shared the roots of my love affair with oxblood footwear.  Today I shall share the story of my most recent acquisition:

Feel free to chuckle whilst imagining the awkward angle I held my phone at to get this shot.

First of all, I didn't have any plans to go shopping today.  My plans were to take Neeps to visit my Katie, and then come home.  But as I was driving back across the bridge the thought occurred to me that a) I do need new work shoes and b) the afternoon is the best time to go shopping for new shoes and c) I'd already gone through the trouble and effort of packing Neeps into his car seat and d) there was a good shoe store between me and home.

And so I took an early exit, found miraculously close parking, and swaggered in as best I could whilst awkwardly lugging a car-seat-full-of-robust-infant.  This less-than-impressive arrival was greeted with a polite smile from the salesman, along with the ubiquitous, "May I help you with anything today?"

"Yep!" I announced.  "I'm here for new work shoes so my boss can stop cringing!"

This led into a discussion about what I normally wear, shoe-wise;

"Doc Martens and hiking shoes," I said, sticking out a foot so he could see my Merrells.  "Oh, those are great shoes," he said, to which I replied,  "I know: this is my second pair.  I think the last they use for this model happens to correspond with my foot."

what I do for a living;

"I'm an office manager for a brokerage company," I explained.  He smiled and said, "Yes, I can see why your boss might be appreciative of a... change in footwear."  I gave him a cheeky grin in return, "Yeah: I'm damn good at my job, so he's always given me leeway, but I thought it would make him happy if I upped my professional style a bit."

and my personal preferences;

"I won't do heels," I said flatly. (sorry)  This did not appear to concern him: "Okay, we actually have a lot of options for that- maybe some ballet flats, or-" I interrupted with, "And they need to stay on my feet while I bike to work," at which point he just sort of laughed.  I joined in and added,  "I know, I know: I'm a challenge."

He had me sit so he could measure my foot.

"You have very strong feet," he remarked, and I preened a bit at that, because of all my (many) vanities, I am The Most Vain about my feet and ankles.  Hells yeah, rock climbing and hiking FTW.

"Okay, I have a few ideas," he began thoughtfully, but I cut in with, "I happen to love oxblood, if that helps," and you'd have thought I'd told him the Holidays had come early.  His face lit up, and he said, "I think I have just the thing, then!"

He disappeared into the back, and came back perhaps 90 seconds later with two boxes.  He opened the first.

"Nice," I said, eyeing the burgundy loafer.  He helped me put them on, and I stomped about and checked myself out in the mirror.  "They're so cute and comfy.  I really like these!" I said.  And I did.  (I still do.  I may go back.)

"And they'll keep your feet protected from the rain while you bike," he pointed out.  I nodded appreciatively, and took my seat once more.

"I also thought these might do," he said, and opened the second box.

"Ooo," was my visceral-girlie response: the shoes put me in mind of tulips, and I could see how perfect they'd be with both pants and skirts.  Clever man.

I tried them on, and immediately realized that these felt even better on my feet: no slippage.  I said as much, and he nodded.

"I'm not surprised to hear you say that; this brand is known for fitting high arches like yours.  Plus you strike me as an artistic person, and the cut on those shoes really lets you play with fun socks."

I grinned at him.  "Good call: I love fun socks."  I sat back down and asked,  "How much will these run me?"

He told me, and I nodded.  Not cheap, but totally reasonable for what I was getting.  "Let's do this."

And that is how, thanks to incredible customer service from someone who really knows his business, I was in and out of a shoe store with a brand new pair of ruby slippers, in less than thirty minutes.  Damned if I don't love professionals.

(and oxblood)

A Mother to Emulate

I'm not totally sure how old I was when I first met my friend Lisa.  I want to say 23 or 24, and I'm leaning towards 24.  Either way, it's been at least a decade since we first became friends while working at Borders.  She'd been with the company longer- had come over from another store, actually, and was a handful of years older than me.  Old enough that I classified her as "adult", but certainly younger than I am now (ironic, that, as I've only just recently started to feel like I might actually be an adult, myself).  She was upbeat and fun and pretty- and she was happily married, with two little kids.

But here's the thing- she also did other stuff.  Yes, she was a wife, and yes, she was a mother, and yes, she had a part-time job at a bookstore.  But!  She also had interests, and she pursued those interests, and quite frankly it was sort of this radical thing for me to be witnessing, because at that point in my life the only females in my peer(-or-near-peer)-group that I'd seen married and with kids were... married with kids.  That's what they did: that was the whole of their focus in life, and the full extent of their identity.

And that terrified me.

So to meet Lisa, for whom I coined the mental category "Cool Mom", was eye-opening, and gave me hope for the future.  She was a good mother and her own, interesting person, and I filed her under "Mothers to Emulate"*.

We stayed in touch through our respective relocations over the years (in fact Nathan and I stopped in to see her on our road-trip back to the PNW, and she fed us breakfast!), and over that time I've had the pleasure of watching (from an admitted remove) the progression of her children into young adults who look like they're set to match or exceed their mother in awesomeness.  Which is pretty much the definition of Doing Parenting Right.

Lisa happened to be in town today, and made it a point to come by and meet Neeps (and also Isis).  We sat and chatted for over two hours, about our kids and their development, yes, but also about our other interests and pursuits.  It was wonderful, and I couldn't help but feel a warm glow of gratitude towards the woman who helped show me that motherhood could be just one more awesome thing about my awesome self.








*(my own mother is, of course, at the top of this list- but I also know I bring a certain bias to my feelings towards her near-perfection.  And on a more serious note, I didn't really become cognizant of her parenting "style" per se, until I was nearly an adult, myself- so I don't have accurate data regarding how she dealt with little-littles when she was in her twenties and thirties.)

On the Hazards of Going Out in Public With a Baby

Turns out I still don't really care about strangers' kids.

Wait, no, that came out wrong.

Turns out I'm still not particularly interested in strangers' kids.  Which is a bit ironic, because now that I've got one of my own, strangers sure are interested in talking to me about their kids.  And because I have this knee-jerk reaction to engage with warmth and enthusiasm, I often end up hearing a lot more than I actually care about.  ::sigh::  Stupid, stupid social skills.

I shouldn't be surprised, really, since a) my mother has told me for years that having kids didn't change her interest in not-her-kids and b) it's pretty much exactly what happened when we got a pit bull (anyone who says dogs aren't like kids is full of it, and also probably has never had a dog).  Still, I was taken off guard when not one, not two, not even three, but four individuals at the grocery store wanted to interact with me on a "We both have children in our lives" level.  One of them didn't even have their (grand)child with them- they just felt compelled to share a text from their daughter with me.  Not a photo- just a text.  Which... okay?  That interaction was particularly strange because I hadn't engaged with them via eye-contact or smile or anything (which is what happened with the others): they just sort of popped up in between another parent and myself.  Like, literally inserted themselves between us.

I also don't really know what to do when strangers* effuse over how adorable Neeps is.  Obviously when someone says, "Your baby is so cute!" you say, "Thank you!" (and if you're me you add, "We think so!") but I... don't really know what's appropriate when they keep talking about how beautiful he is.  Which, yes, doesn't sound like a real problem ("He's almost... too good looking.") except sometimes I feel like they're fishing for me to be equally rapturous over their baby, in a sort of compliment quid pro quo thing, which... no.  Just accept the fact that my baby is better than yours, and move on with as much grace and dignity as you can muster.







*It's totally different when friends and loved ones do it, because they are all lovely, genuine people who are also highly intelligent and discerning and attractive and awesome.

Dropping the Shopping

It's exactly two weeks until I return to work (::whimper::), so today I bit the bullet, packed up Neeps, and went on the hunt for new work clothes to fit my new work body.

Aaaaand that sucked about as much as I thought it would.  I tried to write a funny post about the experience, but every time it evolved into nothing but a bitching rant.  So.

The upside is that Neeps was his typical, delightfully charming self, and only fussed a very little (and was comforted by rocking and a detailed explanation about how many more things Mommy had to try on before we could go).  Thank all stars for my easy-temperament baby, that's all I have to say about that.

I came home with two new shirts and two new dresses (all of which provide easy-access for the Pumping Professional) so all in all, not a complete waste of time.  Just not in any way, shape, or form and enjoyable time.

I said as much on the ol' FaceSpace, and several of my girlfriends recommended StitchFix, so after a bit of hemming and hawing, I signed up.  Here's to hoping it works out, and I never again have to shop for work clothes.

Teasing Spring

I've actually done quite a bit of writing over the past couple of days, but unfortunately I can't share any of it here (yet) because it's all to do with a one-off game I'm planning for some friends.  I'm pretty excited about it, tho', so I do hope to share, eventually.

In the meantime, it is sunny and gorgeous in my neighborhood, and Neeps and I are taking plenty of lovely walks and learning all about things like how pretty crocuses are in the sunshine:

DID YOU KNOW, saffron is a spice derived from the saffron crocus?!

Seed, Sprouted

So after I uploaded yesterday's photo, I had a bit of a brain-wave about a story-seed I planted a few years back, with the working title The Breath Stealer.  The premise was that cats do, indeed, steal the breath of babies (thereby killing them), but only babies that are fated to grow up evil.  I never shared it on here, until now:

When I was very small, eyes still blue and fur still tufted into ridiculous spikes, I lost a brother to a hawk.  I don't remember much of him- I'd only known him a few weeks, after all, and then primarily as a competitor for the most free-flowing of my mother's teats.  What I remember quite clearly, however, was how my mother mourned for him.  There were six of us left in the litter, six tiny lives to love and care for, but still she cried for the one who had been taken.  Sometimes, in my most private nightmares, I hear her crying still, but it wasn't the hawk who killed her baby-

It was me.

There was a bit more, but that was the hook.  At any rate, that's been percolating in the back of my mind for, as I said, a few years, until yesterday when I posted that photo of Krumps and suddenly thought, "But what if, this time, the Cat chooses not to kill the child, but instead to attempt to rewrite it's fate?" which lead me down the rabbit hole of the Cat trying to raise a tiny sociopath to be a force for good rather than evil, and the hilarity that might ensue from that.

We'll see.