I Pooped.

Today was hard.

The plumbers never came to fix the running toilets, my paycheck was a week late and bills are days overdue. I had more projects on my hands than I could manage, too many emails to answer. I spent most of the morning crying, feeling like I was drowning, or maybe wishing I could.

By lunchtime I’d pulled myself up by the bootstraps and was plugging along the best I knew how. Slow and steady, slow and steady, chipping away at the list.

My favorite part of the day, every day, is getting Landon from school. No matter how my day was, or how his day was, our reunion is always the same. When he sees me from across the playground, his face breaks into a wide open smile and he yells “Mommyyyyyyyy!” as he sprints toward me, arms spread wide to hold me. His dirty, sweaty head digs into my thighs and we squeeze each other. It fills me with the brightest sunshine, every single time.

Today we got home and brushed the sand from his toes, went inside and greeted Howard, whose tail beat rhythmically against the tiny chairs that surround Landon’s little table. After about three minutes in the door, Landon releases a puddle right in the middle of the living room rug (the only rug in the house that hasn’t been peed on at this point). I disconnect the call with my sister, exasperated that we are doing this YET AGAIN. He’s been having accidents after school all week, and I’m so frustrated.

I quickly strip him down and carry him at arms length to the empty bathtub. “Stand there for a second until Mommy gets back.” I grab an old towel out of the laundry room on my way back to the pee puddle and cover it, to sop up the brunt of the mess. As I return to the bathroom to run Landon’s early bath, I’m greeted by a new surprise.

“I pooped.”

He is looking up at me with wide eyes, uncertain of what’s coming next. I close my eyes, and I want to scream at the top of my lungs. What else could today possibly throw at me?

Then, I surprise myself by letting out a soft chuckle. I lift him out of the tub, again at arms length, and perch him on the toilet, which has almost no water in it, as the plumber never came.

I scoop, bag and wipe. Dump a splash of bleach in the tub, plug the drain and turn on the water. When he finishes his business, we move bathtime to the master bath. It’s more roomy anyhow, and Landon loves how he can “swim” in the deep tub. A quick scrub and rinse, a few giggles and we’re out.

Suddenly I remember the running water in the guest bath, and run in a panic, leaving my naked toddler dancing with a towel in his room. Too late. The tub has spilled over, and the water is gushing into the hallway like a corridor on the sinking Titanic. I throw every towel we own at the problem, and return to Landon’s dimly lit room.

After coaxing his busy body into a nightshirt and undies, I exhale heavily, sitting on my knees and mentally exhausted from the day’s assault. I haven’t even started dinner yet.

Then, behind closed eyes, I feel two tiny, chubby hands grab me just below the ears. I lift my head and open my eyes as Landon smiles wide. He plants no less than ten soggy kisses all over my face. “Silly mom!” He says as he finishes and jumps back.

I smile and let out a laugh, choking back the tears that are so hot in my tired eyes. This is what it’s all about. 

Perspective.

Who cares about a turd in the bathtub, or some water on the bathroom floor? At the end of the day, we might be tired, dirty, sad and at our wits end. But we are together. When the hard day comes to a close, I am snuggling my sweet baby, warm in his bed, when so many others out there are not.

The way Landon laughs in the face of the things that make me want to cry… it reminds me that I am taking it all for granted. It’s not that bad. Yes, it runs me down and makes me feel like I can’t do it for another second. Sometimes these days make me feel like I am failing as a mother, as a wife, as a friend.

But then I look into his beautiful face, or smile as I wipe his chubby little bottom, and I’m reminded that I am among the luckiest people in the world.

I have a perfect, earthside angel who calls me Mommy. I have tiny hands to hold, a soft-haired head to kiss as he drifts off to sleep. And I remember to breathe it all in. This joy, this happiness that fills me fuller than that damn bathtub… it could all be gone tomorrow.

So I kiss my baby back, “Silly Landon!”, I squeeze him tight, and I go mop up the floor as he dumps blocks all over the hallway. And I’m happier than I’ve ever been to have a mess to clean.

Really Living for the Weekend

Going out of town for a weekend sure makes Monday hard to come back to. This is especially so if you weren't ready for the weekend to end. 
This past weekend, I spent some time in Melbourne, Florida. I know, on the surface that doesn't seem all too exciting. And to be quite honest, I didn't get into any shenanigans crazier than usual, but it was nice to experience a little bit of "out of the ordinary." I didn't know the streets, the bars, or every other person I encountered. Being away from your familiar is a great way to clear your mind, if only for a few days. The only familiarity I needed this weekend was the company I was keeping. Really, that's all I think I needed for the weekend; face time with someone who reminds me of a time when life was simpler. For a few short days, I remembered what it was like to feel as if nothing matters but the beer I'm drinking.
We spent Friday night ignoring the rain, bar hopping down the main strip in downtown Melbourne. After what was definitely enough dark beer, we got the most awesome ride home ever, from a Zingo designated driver. These guys hang out by the bars with scooters that they can fold up and stick in your trunk. They drive you home in your own car (eliminates the annoying task of retrieving it the next morning), grab their scooter, and scoot away. Coolest ever. A little pricier than a taxi, but definitely worth it, if for no other reason than to say it happened. I think scooters are hilarious. I would never drive (ride?) one myself, but I draw more amusement than I should from seeing someone else buzzing around on one. I guess the last laugh is on me though, because they're getting better gas mileage. 
Since the rain continued well into Saturday afternoon and evening, I got to spend an entire day and most of the night doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. When you're used to constantly having something on your to-do list, sometimes it's good to kick back and watch TV until your eyeballs fall out. It's also nice to just sit and enjoy the company of the person you're with. 
I got to experience quite the assortment of at home cinema. First up was a little bit of Stephen Fry in America; a BBC television series which taught me that the Brits think all Americans like to dress up as chickens. Thanks, internet.
I got more of a culture shock than I could've hoped for with this next one though. A documentary exists on Netflix called The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia. And holy mother eff. I ain't never. I guess I'm a lot closer to that culture than I know (hello, Ocala National Forest), but it was for real some shit. If you want to feel better about yourself, watch this. It's no wonder the rest of the world thinks Americans are a bunch of lunatics.

Will Ferrell in Elf. Way too funny. image from imdb.com

30 Minutes or Less was up next. Nothing to write home about, but I always enjoy a little Danny McBride action. Elf and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation made their appearances; standard toppings for holiday-time cable, but always enjoyable. Both of those movies are so stinking hilarious. Throw in a little eggnog, and it's a guaranteed good time. Good clean fun. Up until then at least...
Long story short, I've found a weekend formula that makes a lot of sense. Get out of town + 1 night out + 1 night in + the best company = a solid, well balanced weekend. Just be ready for reality to hit you extra hard on Monday. 
I'm already looking forward to a repeat.


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A Slyce of Down Home Dirty Blues

Last night, three well spent, musical hours at Slyce Bistro may have changed my life forever. So much of my southern rock’n’roll world was turned upside down, I’m still feeling dizzy. I might believe it’d been a wonderful dream, were it not for the very real red saucy stain left on my sweater (from an out-of-this-world slice of pizza).

Steve Vest is a quietly kept legend of southern rock, as we all know it. Put it this way: when you think “southern rock,” what bands come to mind? Skynard, The Allman Brothers, Grand Funk Railroad, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Steve has played with them all. 

At first, of course I was skeptical that his claims were true. We’ve all met someone who claims to have played with Elvis, or Led Zeppelin, or some other awesome rock your face off kind of gigs. But in the end, it often turns out these guys are full of it, and can’t let go of their garage band glory days. 

This is definitely not the case with Steve Vest. As I sat in the little bistro, he regaled stories and details that could only come straight from a valid source. “We weren’t at the Little Brown Jug the night Ronnie had the gun put to his head,” he told me, of Van Zant’s inspiration for Gimme Three Steps. “We were at the Westside Tavern. But they were close enough together.” He followed this with tales about Gregg and Duane Allman, his days living and playing with them in Daytona, and lots about the Comic Book Club in Jax. Vest even wrote a song about the old bar, which he enthusiastically played for me.

But what was even more convincing than his stories was the way he played his music. Goddamn, can that man pick a guitar. A self-taught player, his fingers still dance nimbly across those strings with the same skill and ferocity of the young man who once opened for Ted Nugent (along with his band, the One Percent).

At the same time, Steve played a few riffs on the harp that’d throw you straight back into the late 60s, when rock’n’roll was making its transition from jam fests in to the mainstream. The passion and honesty that he played with left me with no doubt that this man was for real.

The cheesy grin plastered on my face only became cheesier when I decided to indulge in some of the cuisine offered by chef and owner, Morgan Stringham. And when I say cuisine, I mean I kept it simple and went for a slice of cheese pizza. Why not start with the basics, eh?

Now, I like to consider myself a professional pizza connoisseur (I make a pretty damn good one myself), but WOW this stuff is good. I’m talking full slices of fresh garlic, and what I can only believe is uber fresh cheese, kind of good. Cooked to crispy, melty perfection.

This place is on point, and this girl is in love. Pizza lover though I am, I’m definitely going back to get in on some of this bistro action. The too-sweet and gorgeous girl, Melissa, who waited on us informed me that they’ve got pumpkin-ricotta ravioli. I’m not sure that combination is even legal.

So, do yourself a favor this weekend. Stop in at Slyce Bistro and Pizzeria, grab a bite to eat (or a glass of made-from-scratch eggnog!) and take in the tunes and tales of Steve Vest. You can find him jammin’ out at Slyce (just off NE 25th Street in Ocala, behind the old Albertson’s) Every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night from 8 til midnight. He’ll rock your socks off with some classic favorites and his own originals. You’ll leave with a happy belly and a satisfied soul, guaranteed.

Find Slyce online at slycebistroandpizzeria.com or go to their Facebook page.

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Repurposedme: why you could use a really good fork

In my last post about the Kiss the Horse fundraiser, I promised you all a piece on Repurposedme Silverware Art. Here it is, in all it's glory. I'm excited about it, and you should be, too.

Reduce, Reuse, Repurpose

Reusing old materials to make something brand new, is not a new concept. Lots of people, including myself, recycle paper or plastic materials they use everyday. It helps me rest peacefully at night, knowing that my box-o-wine shell may be put to good use as a Starbucks napkin sometime in the near future. 

We've all heard the saying, "one man's trash is another man's treasure." Many people scoff at the generic and fable-esque meaning, not realizing that it is the very idea behind the idea of recycling. Most of the details of "reduce, reuse, recycle" go on out of sight, and we fail to apply the concept to anything other than household garbage. 
 
Truth of the matter is, many objects and materials you encounter every day have the capacity to function in more ways than what they're originally designed for. Sometimes it just takes a creative mind to harness the hidden power of an everyday object.


Jody Schaible is the genius behind the art at Repurposedme. He takes forks, spoons, butter knives, and the like and transforms them into stunning pieces of jewelry and other functional household items. 

"Silverware is something you handle about three times every day," he says. "Most people never think of it as anything other than an eating utensil." And he's right. You ask anyone on the street what they'd use a fork for, and about 95% of them will tell you it's used for eating. I save that five percent for guys like Jody, and for any girl who still clings to the Little Mermaid's fashioning of the device.

The idea for the silverware art first came to Jody when he and his wife, Elaine, found themselves needing some tie backs for their curtains. Jody twisted a couple of spoons to the shape of a curtain hook, attached them to the wall, and BAM! Repurposedme is born. 
The way I've just described that event makes silverware art sound simple, but let's be real. Anyone can bend a spoon into a circle and call it a curtain tie or bracelet; but what Jody is doing here is truly turning the material into art.
 
These Aren't Your Mother's Spoon Rings

What makes Respurposedme so inarguably cool, is that it combines old-fashioned and modern art into a single piece with massive appeal. Jody considers the decoration and qualities of his materials before his own designs, fashioning each piece to display the intricate carvings or pattern of the original piece. Each handle and prong is then precisely flattened, twisted or tweaked to produce a watch, money clip, or wall hook that is flat-out awesome.

A lot of his designs have clever or witty quips engraved onto them, which I find both amusing and irresistible. Elaine sports a bracelet that reads "smooth like butter." Appropriately enough, the bracelet is fashioned from an old butter knife. How clever is that? The irony of it all is too fantastic. 

Aesthetics and decoration aside, what I really dig about Repurposedme is the way it's so "green," and so unconventional. Jody is taking materials that most people would chuck in a dumpster (and subsequently a landfill), and he's turning it into functional art that nobody in their right mind would toss. He's saving waste and rescuing innocent flatware from an eternity of non-compostable damnation. This stuff doesn't just look cool, it is cool. I haven't been able to eat a meal the same way since I first discovered Repurposedme. Many mornings, I find myself wondering how my Coco Puff laden utensil would look dangling from my left earlobe.


Repurposedme has been in the works for about a year now, but has only been making rounds on the outside for seven months. Jody brought the brand to it's first craft fair at the First Friday Artwalk back in May, and hasn't looked back since (lucky for us!). On most Saturday mornings, you'll find Jody and Elaine set up at the Ocala Farm Market (which takes place each Saturday from 8am-1pm on the Ocala Downtown Square). 
 

 All of Repurposedme's pieces are original and unique, and Jody will customize or size any piece to the perfect fit. Keep an eye out, you're guaranteed to see something you like, that you'll eventually grow to love. I haven't taken my spoon ring of since the day I bought it.

You can count on hearing more about Repurposedme Silverware Art from me in the future; I want to decorate my entire self and house in this stuff.

Look for Elaine and Jody on the Square this Saturday!

Find Repurposedme on Facebook by clicking here --> Repurposedme on Facebook!



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Kiss the Horse Fundraiser

 “To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.” 

— Victor Hugo

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to attend a local fundraiser; the Kiss the Horse for Literacy event was held at Hennessey Arabian farms, and was the biggest and most successful horse kissing fundraiser yet. 

Mojo's catered the event for the second year in a row, and I spoke briefly with one of their staffers who told me this year's event was easily three times the size of the last. "Last year, there were about 40 people here," she told me. "This year, I just hope we have enough food!" Last year's low attendance is probably due to poor timing and planning. It was held during the week, as an after-5 event; and as the general population of Ocala is either at Bingo night or preparing children for bed at such an hour, it's no wonder the turnout wasn't fantastic.


Saturday, however, proved to be a much greater success than its predecessor. The event ran from 11 to 3, and raised a hefty helping for the Literacy Council. 

The Literacy Council had a few tables set up to offer entertainment (and moderate supervision) for parents' little ones. The purpose of the Kiss the Horse event was to raise funds to promote and enhance literacy, especially among young children; a great cause, considering the shocking amount of children, and even adults, in Marion county who are illiterate (and unable to read this blog!). Learn more about the Marion County Literacy Council, and how you can help here.

But the kids enjoyed a reading station that featured lots of activities to keep the tots entertained, while parents perused the vendors' stable booths.  I honestly feared the kids would pee their pants when the horse-to-be-kissed was paraded over to the reading station for a visit. I'm not going to lie, I engaged in a little nose-petting myself. It's easy to forget the wonder and excitement you feel as a child, when you're presented with something so grand as an award-winning horse. Really, it's still intimidating as an adult.

Each of the events' merchants had their own confine within the cleaned out horse stable, where they displayed hand-crafted jewelry, quilts, candles, and a whole slew of Ocala country-favorites. Many of the featured vendors regularly set up booths at Ocala's Downtown Marketplace on Saturday mornings, so if you missed out this weekend, never fear.

Vendors set up inside this stable. No room at the inn!

My personal favorite of the day was Repurposedme Silverware Art - a crafty setup, taking commonplace silverware and turning it into literal works of art, that are both functional and fashionable. I'll have a seperate piece detailing Jody's work later this week, but if you haven't seen him downtown yet, make it a point to look for him and his wife Elaine when they're on the square next Saturday. It's really phenomenal. 




Stay tuned for the Repurposedme feature - it's gonna be good!
















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NOOOOO!

There are no words to express the pain and distress I am feeling right now. Somehow, all of my posts that are more than a week old... GONE! I'm not sure if my account got hacked, or if I got some kind of virus, but all of my hard work from the past few months has disappeared. 

Don't fret too much, I still have much of my old content backed up either on my thumb or hard drive, but unfortunately, all of your comments are lost forever :(

It's going to take me a while to put all of it back together with the correct photos and original publishing dates. For this reason, my regular Monday post is being postponed, pushed back possibly until next week. I'm really sorry for all of this, especially to the artists I met this weekend who were looking forward to my new features! 

Hang tight, y'all... I'm working as fast as I can. Thanks for your patience. 

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home again, home again.. jiggity jig.

This past spring, I graduated from college and immediately moved on to doing a whole lot of nothing. The job market sucks right now (as many of you well know), and my English degree didn't prove to be as immediately useful as I'd spent the past four years promising my mother it would. So, as a last ditch effort to avoid selling my body to pay off a hefty helping of student loans (money well borrowed... pffft), I moved back to my home town. 

Coming back to this lil' old town, I was immediately faced with a grim reality that I'd known long ago, but forgotten thanks to four years of collegiate recreation: I don't exactly belong here. 

The majority of this town's population is either over 55, or knee-deep in mud and Toby Keith albums, proudly sporting Florida Gator gear from head to tailgate (I am the living, breathing example of a gator-hater; you'll soon find more of that). 

True, there are still plenty of kids around here I went to school with, but they're the poor souls who never left, and have never experienced life on the outside. They believe the earth is flat, and drops off into oblivion at the edge of the National Forest. Many of them are huge, married, or pregnant (even the guys - it's weird), and completely static. We don't have much in common. 

For this reason, I'm forced to closely monitor my contact with the town's citizens, lest I get sucked into their cult of crazy and wind up pregnant; I treat my harem of sisters like my own mini-sorority, and bring my mom out to bars and introduce her to strangers as my roommate. She enjoys this slightly more than I do, but it makes for a good time.


Similarly, my love life is non-existent; I'm not interested in rednecks or jailbirds. 


The activities I've undertaken to quell my extreme boredom outside of work include, but are not limited to, the following: I'm coaching high school girls' sports, becoming a master hula-hooper, reading until I'm nearly blind and watching way too much television (to further exacerbate the blindness). I get out of town every chance I get, spinning myself out at music fests so I can temporarily discard my reality until I'm ready to deal with it.



So, despite the unstable conditions of my current situation, I'm just going to start blogging the hell out of it. Because I can make a party out of anything - I want you all to see that, and follow suit. 


If anyone has any suggestions for improvement, my comment box is wide open. I'm constantly on the lookout for new things to get involved in, and I'd love to disprove my notion that I'm alone here, and that nothing exciting goes on. I'm convinced that there's a little culture somewhere around here, I'm just at a loss of where to find it. Help me out, yeah?


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