Halloween.

Liam wants to wish you a Happy Halloween.

Because he's the CUTEST. PUMPKIN. EVER.

Also, big news: I did it. The bangs AND the boots.

I am loving both decisions.

all the different ways to see what's right

Four years ago around this time I was confident and happy about the upcoming election. I thought, There is no way he will be re-elected. Just months earlier I had joked to Gabe that if Bush was re-elected, we were moving to Canada.

The week that Bush was, in fact, re-elected, we made our planned move to Texas and all I could think was Uuugghhhhhhhh. Not that I would have stayed put had I had the choice at that point, but it just felt really weird. We mourned that week, really. I cried. Really.

This time, while I am hopeful, I am trying not to feel as confident, I think as a way to detach myself from more crushing heartbreak should the election not swing in Democratic favor. I can't imagine that people have approved of the last eight years enough that we'll have another President who will be much like the last, and a Vice President who I don't think really has a grip. There, I said it.

But polls are showing the gap getting narrower. Less than a week to go, and I am gritting my teeth. My head hurts and my jaw aches. My heart is stretching in all these ways I am not used to.

Four years ago it was just me and Gabe. We had jobs, we lived in a city we loved, and we were moving halfway across the country kind of just 'cause we felt like it. It was just me and Gabe. We weren't married yet but he proposed the night before our drive to Texas began... Just us.

This time we have Liam. The brightest, best and sweetest thing in our lives. He is small still but growing so fast and becoming so much more aware of the world around him. Maybe not old enough to pay attention to this election, but old enough that it scares stuff right out of my pants about the future of this country and the places Gabe will live as he grows and his eyes get bigger and he understands the world better. It scares me that people are trying to keep things the same.

I don't think a McCain/Palin presidency is a good idea. The biggest issue/argument I hear is money, and Republicans keeping theirs. This isn't just about money.

This is about freedom and human rights and compassion and hope and thinking progressively. It's about making things better because, really. We need things to get better.

I don't want that heavy feeling of dread sitting on my chest next week- that heavy dread I felt four years ago.

I want to breathe a sigh of relief and know things will get better.

more overwhelming mommyness

Tonight when it was bedtime for Liam, our upstairs neighbor was partaking in one or more of the following:
- rearranging furniture
- playing with his giant bouncy ball collection
- Irish step dancing
- bowling
All of which are more fun to listen to than falling asleep, I assure you. So, rocking and humming and sweetness ensued, and also a little pissiness because Liam wasn't really feeling the whole sleeping thing at first.

There was a point in which I was cradling him- something we don't do a lot anymore because he's gotten so tall and he's not as comfortable that way as he used to be when he fit so perfectly in the crook of our arms- and his eyelids were growing heavy and he was only fighting sleep a little bit. His arm closest to me found its way around my waist and his other hand held onto mine.

Something came over me (big surprise, right?) and I thought about the fact that someday this boy is going to be a man, and he's going to get married, and I am going to dance with him at his wedding. With an arm around my waist and his other hand holding mine.

AND I DANG NEAR STARTED BAWLING.

Cruelty to Animals

I am not really doing anything for Halloween this year. Gabe and I will maybe be taking Liam around to the houses of three or so relatives for some pictures and that's about it. I am crossing my fingers and hoping some trick-or-treaters come to our door.

But as you know I want to dress up anyway and since I pretty much need to wear a costume I can build from things I have on-hand I thought I'd dress as a cat. Black shoes, black tights, black skirt, black shirt, eyeliner, and black nose and whiskers- I am sure I can dig up the cat ears I wore to work last year.

I did a Google image search for "cat halloween costumes" because I thought I should entertain ways to be creative about cats without going to the default Slutty Cat (never done that by the way but I've been near college campuses for Halloween and I've seen movies) and found these images, unfortunately. So wrong.











I want to set those cats free.

toddler kisses: the hidden sweetness

Because sometimes when he doesn't actually kiss me when I ask for a kiss and I just kiss his sweet soft kissable face anyway, Liam has taken to offering me his cheek when I ask for kisses now. Sometimes he'll close his eyes and lean in and stay to snuggle, or he'll come at me for a second before darting off to do something way cooler, like stack blocks or spin in circles or poke at lint on the carpet.

The other day he surprised me by actually kissing me when I asked him for one. We were sitting on the edge of the couch and I was assaulting him with an overbearing mom-hug, and he turned his face right to me and licked my cheek. I laughed a lot, and he made a face like my cheek tastes bad. Whatever. I still thought it was sweet.

WTF?

Just like last year at this time I'm making a regular past time of scouring the Craigslist ads for Maine apartments. We still haven't decided if we'll stay in this place for a year and the decision will ultimately be made after Gabe secures a new job.

I found this ad today and of course it looks amazing and perfect but. I want to know what's wrong with the place. Because $750? For a house? With a washer and dryer included? I am not too familiar with Augusta but these are my theories so far:

1. It's morbidly haunted.
2. It was the scene of a horrific murder(s). See also: number 1.
3. There's a bug problem. A big one. Like, Arachnophobia big.
4. It's in a bad neighborhood where gunfire, knife fights, arson and break-ins are a regular occurence.
5. The Kennebec River floods it twice a year.

boots, again, and a hallelujah

I mentioned a few entries back that I was aching over a pair of boots that was outside of my price range by about a bajillion dollars.

My heart broke some more when I took into consideration this little tidbit I usually forget to check on right away: most boots, including the ones I loved, are made of leather, and I am vegetarian. Enter me crying a little here.

Now, yes. Some vegetarians wear leather. Some vegetarians even eat gelatin. To some, there are gray areas about the vegetarian lifestyle, and that's fine for them because it's their life- but to me it's black and white. I don't wear or eat animals. Even if it's a beautiful pair of boots. Because ew, you know?



I'd rather that leather stays in the pasture, on the body it belongs to. Not mine. And isn't that a gorgeous cow? Look at that sweet cow face.

So, even though I never would have bought those boots because I don't have a bajillion dollars, I hung my head and continued The Great Boot Hunt of 2008. Which I just thought up the name for, just right now, so uncrinkle your nose. Our financial outlook is bleak, but I figure as I create more items for my shop, I might come up with some boot money- somehow, somewhere.

I saw some nice boots newly listed on the Target website for a very reasonable $35.00:



And by nice, I mean I had a fashion orgasm. Then I read further: LEATHER. Ack. Heartbroken. Fashion orgasm reversed- which is an unpleasant sensation, I assure you. And that was all that interested me from Target.

Next, I looked over a few websites I know of that carry animal-friendly footwear. But their prices were not reasonable (for me at least) and I pouted as I Googled "vegan boots" with very little hope and more than a little bitterness.

Then the heavenly light shone upon me and I heard angels singing as my eyes fell upon these beauts:



*Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh* (That's the angels.)

These boots cost $55. Which is a lot of money for me- a LOT- but very reasonable considering their leather or popular-brand counterparts. I want them. I want them so bad. AlternativeOutfitters.com, I think KNOW I love you. Please don't sell out of size 9's.

Please buy my postcards? Operation Boot Fund is now in action. One, two, three, GO!

You remind me of the babe.

I recently became a genius when I thought of what my family could dress as for Halloween this year.

Labyrinth is one of my favorite movies and has been since I first saw it when I was five years old. I want Liam to be Toby on Halloween.



And I, of course, would be Sarah.



Which means only one thing, and it's brilliant: Gabe would be Jareth the Goblin King.



Despite my deep love for Labyrinth and excitement at the idea of creating and wearing these costumes, my husband has declined to make my Halloween dreams come true. I keep asking though, and he keeps saying no.

Recently I thought to ask him why. His response required no contemplation: "Nora? Maybe it's the spandex?"

Touche.

Tonight, although defeated, I brought it up again. This time he said, "Not to get your hopes up or anything, but where would we even wear these costumes?"

"It doesn't matter, as long as there are pictures," I told him.

Maybe some other year...

an A-HA! moment

It's been driving me nuts, every time I see it- who does the voice of Brother in the Berenstain Bears animated series? I see it a few times a week, as Liam and I cuddle on the couch, blindly watching the Sunny Side Up Show on Sprout as we re-learn how to keep our eyes open and he drinks his milk. Every time it comes on I think, "Note to self: look up who does Brother Bear," because the voice is so familiar. And I always forget because the note gets lost in my mind as I try not to fall back asleep.

I can't trace back my steps as to which websites I visited and what lead me to Michael Cera's Wikipedia page, but I found it quite accidentally and it all makes sense now. MICHAEL CERA DOES BROTHER BEAR. (!!!)

This is of no general importance to anything, but it was definitely an A-HA! moment for me, complete with a pointer finger aimed skyward, because of course Michael Cera does the voice for Brother Bear! Who else's gentle, boyish voice could that have been? (Now, please erase any trace of creepiness about that sentence. It's also accidental. I know he's 20. I know I am 26 and married. I am just a fan of his work, and I am charmed by his demeanor.)


Brother Bear says, "Soccer is how I get my kicks!"
photo courtesy berenstainbears.com



And Michael Cera is all, "Hi, I am ridiculously charming and I should be five to ten years older."
photo courtesy of Radar magazine



Here's an another kind of A-HA! (finger pointed) moment for all of you as well:



You can thank me in the comment section because didn't it make you smile???

And if you haven't already (because who hasn't??) watch Superbad and Juno. I will probably say the same of Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist after I see it. And find Arrested Development on DVD because it's amazing.

two years ago today

Two years ago today, my dreams came true.


Gabe and I had been married for two months, and I had been telling him for a couple weeks that I was pregnant. I just knew it, basically the moment it happened. I just knew. It was hard to explain myself and my instincts and the subtle changes my body was already experiencing so he told me he'd believe it when he saw it.

I took the early response tests. THREE TIMES. I took them defiantly, pissing with pride, only to be slapped in the face with a single pink line when I was so sure I'd be able to show Gabe and say, "See? I knew it! Now, what do you want to name our baby?"

I was feeling dizzy, light headed, inexplicable hungry, uncontrollably tired, a little nauseous, and a little bloated. I went to work as usual, I went to classes as usual, and waited for the entire week to pass when my period was due to arrive. I was determined to wait until the end to take another test because then for sure it would validate me.

I didn't know it until this long, long week, but I was taking the pregnancy tests at the wrong time of day. I had taken them in the evenings when I should have been peeing on the stick first thing in the morning when the pregnancy hormones are most present.

And, like with my driving test, fourth time was a charm.

My alarm went off early on the morning of October 14, 2006. It was a Saturday and I was due to open at work. Gabe had the day off. I moved more swiftly to the bathroom than I do most mornings, and Gabe followed. Our eyes were barely open, but I sat down and held on real tight while I unwrapped the pregnancy test. Gabe sat on the edge of the tub, his tired head in his hands. I aimed and peed. I waited, having promised myself not to look until the time was up. I peeked a little early and there it was.


Yes, I know that's the same photo two times, but I am posting it again to stress to you how elated I was. Not only was there the simple, "I was right, neener neener neener!" but there was the huge, ground-shaking, life-changing, HOLYSHITWHATDOWEDONOW excitement of being pregnant for the first time.

I looked at Gabe. He may have fallen back asleep, right there on his perch on the edge of the tub. "I'm pregnant," I whispered.

And he smiled, and we hugged, and danced around the bathroom, and hugged and kissed, and cried a little. We hadn't been trying to get pregnant but we'd left it up to our bodies to decide for us. I didn't think it would happen right away because I only have one ovary and I'd convinced myself that would matter. But apparently by right ovary is pretty kick-ass.

I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to call in sick and stay home with Gabe, and talk about baby names and birth plans and where to live and breastfeeding and midwives and how beautiful our baby was going to be. But I pulled myself away from him somehow and arrived at work bright and early and smiled like a fool all day.

A pregnant fool.

I was so excited that I started taking belly pictures really early.

This is the first one, taken two and a half weeks later. I know, I don't look pregnant at first sight. But I was unable to suck in that little bump and whenever someone said to me, "What belly?" I pointed at it and said, "But I can't suck it in! It won't move!" This was also right around the time of my first ultrasound, when our baby was still a little bean. His heartbeat was audible, and we were amazed.

A month and a half after that, I was still working on the belly. It just looked like I had eaten a big meal but still, that belly wasn't going anywhere and I was really excited about not being able to suck it in.

That's the time when you can be happy about something like that.

Ok, I've meandered- something that's all too common for me. But today, I celebrate my pregnancy and my body and my breathtaking son. It's been two pretty sweet years.

That's an understatement.

xoxo Nora

Bangs and Serious Boots

I'm not always so sage and wise and quiet like Buddha. (What?) I mean, I'm not always so thoughtfully dissecting the relationships of 20-person families, or the tao of (baby) poo, or the complexities of my celebrity crushes.

**Before I go on, worry not: I don't actually think that highly of myself and my ramblings. It's late, I am overtired and I just ate a few pieces of chocolate. I'm a little on the loopy side.**

Sometimes I think for long stretches of time about my hair, my lack of shoes, and worry over how my boobs and butt look in different bra/shirt combinations and in my favorite jeans.

That's right, I am normal.

So first, let's talk about my hair. More specifically, my bangs. They're getting long. I haven't cut them since the beginning of summer, and they're reaching my lips. I had full intentions of letting them grow longer. The rest of my hair is really long, as I haven't had it cut since the week I gave birth to Liam. It's down to the middle of my back, and I'll be growing it for a few more months before I cut it for Locks of Love. I've been getting The Itch, though, The Itch I always get when I am growing out my bangs. I go back and forth about their future and I thought I had mostly decided to stick with the growing. But watching the series premiere of NBC's Kath & Kim I was insanely bored and not laughing, not even a little inspired by Selma Blair's beautiful bangs. Then my friend Rachel from Texas cut her bangs and posted the pictures of it on MySpace and that was it. She likened one of her photos to me with bangs, and I was convinced.

Hello Bangs, I am coming home.


(January 2008)



(April 2008)

Secondly I am struggling through a serious lack of suitable footwear. All I wore this summer was my black flip flops, and sometimes my white or black flats. But you know how flats get in the summer when you don't wear socks, ever. Stin-Kee! I can't just wear my flip flops all fall and winter. I found a pair of shoes a couple weeks ago at Target that I love, and I bought them for the fall, which brings me up to one pair of shoes aside from my flip flops and still leaves me at a loss for winter. They are cute but I don't think these are a good idea in the snow:



I have a pair of boots I bought second-hand when I first moved to Portland. Let me tell you, they really are something. As my former assistant manager once told me, "Those are some serious boots you have there, Nora." The problem is, since they're so serious and all, they're not good for just throwing on and running errands. They're special boots. They have a thick black wedge sole and they come up to my knees, with a little bit of fuzzy lining peeking out of the top. They are best with long skirts and tights.

I fell in love with a pair of boots recently after reading one of my favorite blogs. You can read about the blogger, Bossy, and see the boots here. The problem is, they are out of my price range. By about $150-170. Yes, really. But I can't stop thinking about them, and their perfection, and how I could wear them for three seasons, which is two more than my Serious Boots. With our current financial situation, there's no way I can justify buying these boots no matter how much my feet need them. My feetsies need to stay warm, yes? Don't those boots look so cozy? I'll have to find something else at Target or wherever.

But I look for boots on Target.com and get all googly-eyed over rain boots, which I would love to wear in the springtime.






I am not going to talk about my breasts and my butt 'cause that's personal! (Plus, um, haven't I already talked about my butt a little? And had the ladylike grace to make reference to "Baby Got Back" in the title of that post?) But I will still think of those things.

...and of my bangs, and of those beautiful, beautiful boots.

......and philosophy and science and mathematics and ancient Greek poetry.

Um, could really drink a root beer right now. I will think of that also.

It's not my business at all, not even a little bit...

and yet here I am blogging about it.

So, I like watching the TV shows about big families on TLC. I like Jon & Kate Plus 8, who had a set of twins and a set of sextuplets by chance because of fertility treatments, and I am in awe of the families where the parents have chosen to have thirteen or more children.

The family I have seen the most of is The Duggars, where parents Jim Bob (yes, really) and Michelle have seventeen children and are expecting another. All on purpose. Yes, really. Their oldest is 20 and the youngest is an infant.

Obviously this is their choice and none of my business but I can't help but make judgmental exclamations about them every time I see them on TV. It's mostly because I feel bad for Michelle. I just don't think the human body was meant to create and give birth to that many children. She happens to have done it, yes, but have you seen the look in her eyes? She's been having babies for twenty years straight and she has not healed! She's always wide-eyed and smiling and talking about how happy she is with a squeal. She is obviously lacking the vitamins and nutrients that she's given to her forty-seven children, and maybe her brain has shrunken a little too. I am not saying that to be snarky!, as I have had just one child and seem to have been afflicted. Yes, really. It's genuine concern, one regular mom to a turbo baby machine.

And things I don't know enough about to judge, but I do anyway out of sheer fascination:
... How do each of those seventeen children feel special, unique and independent?
... How do each of those homeschooled children learn age and grade appropriate material every day?
... Why, when they designed and built their new home, did they only build three bedrooms?

The most recent episode I have seen dealt with the engagement of the oldest Duggar, Joshua (I think?). He is twenty years old and proposed to his girlfriend, Anna, who he met two years ago at a homeschooling convention. Now, the Duggars don't date. They court. They don't have sex KISS before marriage.

YES, REALLY.

Throughout the whole episode, the parents, family and couple were talking about how special that first kiss is, and how wonderful it is that Joshua and Anna are saving it for their wedding day.

Ok. I kind of exploded.

I agree: a first kiss is special. I KNOW THIS more than most, because my first kiss, at age fourteen, was terrible and horrible and emotionally scarring. I am serious. I was so afraid of kissing after that, that I didn't have another kiss until I was 18. I became unshy to kissing after that, and without kissing and telling, let me say this: first kisses should always be special, whether it's the first kiss of your life, or your first kiss with a particular person. I have had sweet, breathtaking, awkward, hesitant, pushy, and unexpected first kisses. I wish they had all been perfect- some of them were, some weren't. That's life. But I am SO GLAD I did not wait until my wedding day for my first kiss, because that would have been twenty-four years of way too much sexual tension, mostly with myself.

My first kiss with my husband was perfect. In all seriousness. It happened three and a half years before we got married and it was the best first kiss in the history of the world. Our first kiss as husband and wife was also really great, for the record.

There's also this: because the first time you kiss someone, ever in your life, you might not be sure what to do. Where does your nose go? Which way do you tilt your head? What if your nose whistles? What if your lips are too tight? Too soft? What if EVERYTHING? Do you really want that to happen on your wedding day, in front of everyone? Or are the Duggars waiting until they are alone? What the frick?

I am glad I kissed Gabe before we were married. I am glad I kissed people before I met Gabe. You learn through kissing. Sure, sometimes there's lessons you don't need. Kissing can be sweet and intimate, though, and can accompany many a romantic moment where intercourse doesn't even happen.

Plus. Dude, it's really fun. And there's nothing wrong with premarital kissing, as long as it's not leading to other premarital things that your family, religion, or own set of morals frown down upon. It's not a gateway drug. It's lips. Soft and beautiful. Or firm and fun. What-have-you.

The choice to wait until marriage to make love is a noble and beautiful. But if you're waiting until you are married to kiss someone, do you also make love for the first time that night? Or do you wait longer, because WHOA you have to get used to this kissing thing first? Do you wait until your first anniversary?

I am just filled with all these questions.

I just think, the purity of kissing lies in your intentions, and if you have pure intentions with it, I don't see the harm.

Oh, also: Joshua flew from his home in Arkansas to Anna's hometown in Florida to propose to her. On their drive back to Arkansas, Anna's sisters tagged along as chaperones to ensure that Joshua and Anna didn't get out of hand with their intense hand-holding. It concerns me that these two have had a long-distance relationship for two years, and from now until their wedding they will spend no time alone.

Then, in Arkansas, when they went out to dinner, names were drawn out of a hat to choose their chaperones out to dinner. Because I guess that from now until they are married, little Duggars will be everywhere, making sure they don't spoil that first kiss by doing it out of wedlock.

As one of Joshua's teenage sisters pointed out, "Being alone can lead to bad things."

They do know kissing doesn't make babies, right? Or is that why Jim Bob and Michelle have seventeen children?

OH NO I DI'INT.

It gets ugly. It gets explicit. I warned you.

I doggone done it, I really jinxed us.

Liam's cold that started three weeks ago went away a little, then came back in the form of Snotgate '08. There were two days there, where there was so much stuff coming out of his nose that I was afraid he'd dehydrate or something. And this time, he figured out he could touch it. Do you know what a sixteen-month-old boy does when he discovers that he can touch his runny boogers? He smears them. He touches his little fingertips to his nostrils, and wipes. Boogers on the cheeks. Boogers on the top of the nose. Boogers on the chin. Boogers in the mouth.

And as it turns out, sixteen-month-old boys do not like to see their loving mother coming at them with yet another tissue or washcloth or any available and expendable piece of cloth, like the sock that was already destined for the hamper or dad's bandanna that's always laying around, because he knows it means I will hold the back of his head and wipewipewipe until his face is no longer glistening in goo.

And in case you think it's gross for me to wipe my son's nose with a dirty sock, know this: it's one of his own socks, and he has sweet baby feet so it's not so bad, plus I only wipe with the top of the sock. And then it goes straight into the hamper, where it belonged in the first place.

Anyway.

I came down with it Sunday night. I lay on the couch with a piece of toilet paper lodged in my nostril to stop the leak. I had to change it frequently. My head was pounding and I couldn't stop sneezing. My throat hurt. When I went to bed I started crying because I CAN'T GET SICK. Who will do the dishes? Who will vacuum the living room? Who will organize the recycling? Gabe comforted me, saying, "Until I go back to work on Wednesday, you won't have to lift a finger. Don't worry about it. Just get some rest." He brought me a cup of water and some nighttime decongestant, and I was out like a light until 10:30 am. Well apparently he had a conversation with me when he came to bed but I don't remember it.

Then later on Monday Gabe came down with it, but less dripping and more congestion. And do you know what it's like to have two sick parents with a sick kid? SUCKS.

Liam's nose is still a little runny and he has volcanic sneezes. Yesterday he had diarrhea all day. Fortunately he has no fever and is not acting sick. This morning, after my nighttime decongestant induced coma good night's rest, Gabe and I switched places and he went back to bed.

And then the Poopsplosion of the Century happened. Liam had been running around, playing peek-a-boo from behind his pack & play with me when I smelled it. I didn't think anything of it, as yesterday's diarrhea was accompanied by a hilarious symphony of fart sounds and this time I heard nothing. I figured maybe his poop was back to normal. I got him, laid him down on his back, and was taking his jammie pants off when I felt it. The wetness. At the bottom of his pant leg. At first I thought he'd spilled Pedialyte from his cup. Then I saw it. The trail. All the way back up his leg. I called Gabe out of bed to come help me contain the mess. Poopsplosions are not a one-person job. It was EVERYWHERE inside his diaper and pants.

By some wonderful luck he didn't even grab at it. You know how babies do that? Awesome.

After it was cleaned up, Liam got a nice warm bath and then some more daddy time as I looked up the doctor we took him to three weeks ago. He goes in later this afternoon. I try not to freak out but I think diarrhea was one of the things the doctor had told us to watch for.

Liam's napping now, and I keep having flashbacks of the Poopsplosion and wondering what I would have done if it had happened while Gabe was at work. Oh the horror!

I don't know what to say in closing now, after all that poo and booger talk. So, um. Have a nice day.

xoxo Nora

train of thought

First: I'd like to point out that my last post, my post about John Krasinski, was my 100th post. What a celebration.

Second: As per my friend Nicole's suggestion I watched Leatherheads on my laptop. My laptop didn't like it at first, and then it started playing- not without a lot of whirring and grinding- and then there was the time when I readjusted the computer on my lap and ejected the disc by accident and had to sit through the previews again. The verdict? Good thing John Krasinski was in it!

No just kidding. It wasn't bad. I just. I don't know. I can't watch Renee Zellweger. I am sure she's a very nice person. But why does it always look like she's chewing on something? And why can I actually see her efforts to become her character? Why can't she just be them?

John Krasinski was his handsome, convincing, good good self, and it was ok that I had to stay up till one to watch it because I forgot about the media player on my laptop until almost eleven.

Oh and then Liam woke up at 3:30. In the morning. Because he went to bed early and decided he'd had enough. I managed to keep him in bed with me, snuggling sleepily for a little over an hour, then we came out to watch Sprout. I sent a text message to Gabe: "Ok gonna need that coffee and stuff." So I got coffee and a blueberry muffin when he came home at 6:30. Then I went to bed. Then Gabe and Liam followed shortly and we slept until 10:30. Well Gabe slept until 1:30 because of the whole 12-hour overnight shifts thing.

And guess what. My ceiling is leaking again. And we got a letter from the demon spawn landlords that our rent is going up $100 to "cover rising costs." Rising costs? Of not turning our heat on? Of not fixing our shit?

Well dang!

We're moving soon.

Dear John Krasinski. I tried.

All I wanted to do tonight was watch Leatherheads. I've been looking forward to it for a few days now, especially since I watched the debate on Thursday instead of The Office. I knew I would return the movie we rented earlier in the week today and rent Leatherheads in its place, and sit on my couch watching it alone in a John Krasinski-induced haze while Gabe is working and Liam is sleeping.

Yeah, I said it. I may have said it before. I will say it again. I have a big silly celebrity crush on John Krasinski.



No really. I only want to see Leatherheads because he's in it. George Clooney? Yeah, he's all right. He's not my cup of tea. Renee Zellweger? I only barely like her as Gina the Turbo Slut in Empire Records, simply because I have a big silly inexplicable crush on that movie. She just happens to be in it.

Ok ok and it looks funny too. But John Krasinski is in it.

I think this is ok as long as I can admit it. I only wanted to see License to Wed because John Krasinski was in it. I didn't though; Gabe wouldn't let me rent it. Not because of my big silly crush but because, something about Mandy Moore. Whatever.

So I rented Leatherheads. Liam went to sleep obediently and early tonight. I put the DVD in the player.

And.

Nothing.

My DVD player does not like Leatherheads, it seems. The screen said LOADING for like five minutes straight. Yeah, five minutes. Or maybe one or two. I wasn't counting. I was staring at the screen as my DVD player failed to recognize the one movie in the whole world I need to watch right now to save me from another long night of staring at the internet.

Yeah whatever I could dig into my wall art again.

Yeah whatever I could write more of my novel.

Yeah whatever I could catch up on some housework.

Yeah whatever I could go to bed early!

But OhForTheLoveOfJohnKrasinski! I don't wanna.

I want to watch a movie starring John Krasinski so I can smile at his wit and timing and handsomeness. Did you know he's from Massachusetts? So am I, originally. We grew up less than an hour from each other until I was nearly six years old, and then when he was in college in Providence I happened to be a frequent visitor of the city. It's meant to be.

Just not tonight.

Oh, hi Gabe!

*photo from Men's Health magazine, not Nora McCourtney-Wolf

blond hair everywhere

I just wanted to show you all the serious bed-head that Liam had going on this morning.



Kid meant business.

xoxo

If you thought the last election was important...

I saw this on my friend Bridget's blog and had to post it here.



When Laura Linney mentioned the voter regsitration deadline, I panicked a little because I was afraid I missed mine. I moved back to Maine this year and have not yet renewed my license, which automatically registers you to vote. Seriously, I almost cried a little. Then I checked, and I still have a couple weeks but I will do it ASAP to make sure it doesn't slip by as the past six months have.

"You can literally register to vote while you're pooping, if you have a laptop."

It's that easy.

xoxo

crickets

Briefly, a few things that have been making me uncomfortable lately:

-- The commercials promoting the consumption of high fructose corn syrup

-- The return of my migraines and other severe aches in my head

-- My compulsion to check my email to see if anyone else ordered something from my Etsy shop

-- Sarah Palin

-- My lower back

-- MY EFFING LANDLORDS. AGAIN. IT NEVER STOPS.

-- The fiery-colored foliage may be gone soon

xoxo Nora

p.s. Happy October!