Alive in Wonderland

The Comedy Stylings of My Mom

 

My mom is not what you'd call a jokester. A comedian.  Oh, she laughs easily and has a great sense of humor, but rarely is she the genesis of a wise crack or a practical joke. That's what made the events of this story possible.  We never saw it coming...That's why this is so funny.

The first time Larry, my husband, and I went to Nevada to visit my parents in their new house we arrived and got right to the business of settling into their guest bedroom.  Then we quickly set to playing Mexican Train with my parents in their dining room until late into the night. Late that night, we all went to bed.  

Things happened.

The next morning my mom had our breakfast spread all laid out on the kitchen counter. The sun shone into the picture window and Larry and I cheerfully ate our strawberry stuffed french toast, drank our coffee and chatted. My mom sat down next to us and asked us how we slept, then started talking about the previous owner of the house. 

"Oh, they were so strange," she casually said.  "They had every room equipped with microphones that all pipe into the master bedroom," she slipped her coffee and acted annoyed. "We can hear everything that happens in the house--everything," she said as her eyes peered at us over the rim of her cup.

Larry and I were stunned, caught, silently looking at each other like two guilty teenagers. 

"Sometimes it keeps us up at night," she  smiled at both of us.

Um, please let me just die right here, I thought. Please. Right in the middle of my mom's new yellow kitchen.

"You should see the look on your faces!" she finally laughs and got up to do the dishes. 

Oh, man. Totally punk'd by my own Mom. It was awesome.  

Lunch with a friend

 

 

It's one of those funny ironies in life that one of the most important aspects of our lives, one of the biggest blessings, one of the things you treasure the most--friendships--usually spring from seemly insignificant experiences, inane common interests or sometimes just dumb luck. 

The first friend I ever made online, right after I started my blog, was Lisa Mertins. Our friendship started because of a rock. She posted a picture of a beautiful, dark, smooth rock on her blog. I knew that I would like someone who dedicated a whole post to a rock. I'm the type of person who picks up a pretty rock, puts it in my pocket, takes it home, washes it, and puts it with all the other pretty rocks I've collected and so is she ('inane common interest' illustrated).  That rock was a bridge into each other's lives. 

We rarely get to see each other in real life anymore, but Lisa and I met for lunch at Kimmie's in the Orange Circle on Monday when she was in Orange County for the afternoon. We split a our sandwiches--pastrami and an egg salad if you must know--and as we talked I felt like I could stay there all day surrounded by our friendship, the surly waitresses and the kitsch of St. Patrick's Day decorations.  I felt happy, understood: all because of a rock. 

*****

Lisa is a phenomenal artist. She worked for years as an illustrator for The Orange County Register, so her style might look familiar to you. Now, as an independent artist, her work has reached new heights of  spectacularness! (Oh, yay, made up word).

Happy Birthday Jana and Jill!

 

My best girlfriends are identical twins and today is their birthday.  They're only one year older than me, but I think they look great for their age.

Happy Birthday Girls!

Alright, fine...that's not really them, but here we are, with our friend Vicki at Mimi's. 

Joyeux Anniversaire Filles! 

  

 

Heidi's blog Fancy Feet

 

I honestly can't remember how I 'met' Heidi and started reading her blog, Fancy Feet.  I think she left a comment and I wandered over and started to read her.  I DO remember feeling an instant connection: it was like she was sitting at a little desk inside my head transcribing my thoughts.  It was a weird and wonderful feeling and I devoted myself then and there to her blog. 

Such a great writer.  Heidi could talk about something as simple as a cup of coffee and it would poetry. She kind of sparkled a little in every post. Mostly she wrote about her life in Canada, her family, her restlessness,  yes, and coffee, but then one day she just happen to mention, as an aside, that she had an infection in her legs, which happens when you are an amputee.  

What? She hadn't breathed a word about this in the almost year I had been reading her...Fancy Feet. Fancy Feet **Slap on forehead** I get it. There were hints--like this post about a letter her boyfriend (now husband) wrote her after her car accident, but she revealed her life slowly--she survived a terrible accident that left her severely burned and an amputee--as she says of herself "I'm a reluctant storyteller." But a marvelous one.

After wrestling with herself about it for some time she has finally taken the leap and is now devoting her blog to telling her story. This is how she describes it: 

 

This is an experiment in writing about a story that took my world apart and ultimately changed my life. Many of us have gone through something significant that impacted us and placed us at a crossroads. This is my something significant. I'm delving into a car crash that happened eleven years ago and the long recovery that followed. I can't promise it will all be in order as the events occurred. But, I'm really going to try. There is no agenda to push here. I'm going to write honestly. (My plan is create a book out of all of this.) Everyone has a story and this is mine.

Hers isn't your usual 'recovery' story.  Heidi has a way of letting you feel every little movement, see every fold in a curtain, smell every cup of coffee like it was happening to you.  I'm just going to tell you right now, if you read her blog, you WILL cry, but just because you will love her instantly. But don't worry, she's writing it in quiet dollops. One post at a time and I always leave there feeling hopeful. How does she do that?

You simply must jump in now and start to read Fancy Feet. 

****

Heidi and her family came down to visit Disneyland a few months ago and our families got together for an afternoon. It was just like spending time with an old friend. 

 

Heidi good for you for pursuing your dreams and starting your book. Many, many people will be touched and blessed because of your bravery, talent and that little sparkle. 

India Rose and my friend Suzie

  

I first met Suzie back in 1992 when we worked together at a bar in San Francisco called The Savoy Tivoli.  You may have heard of it--it's slightly infamous. The Savoy, on Grant Street  in North Beach opened its door in 1906 and has been employing art students, struggling writers, lost souls, and future suburbia lovers as its wait staff, bartenders, and bouncers ever since. 

I wrote about my friend Annie, who I worked with there, in this post.  I'm pretty much shamelessly begging you to read my post about her. It involves Adam Ant, a fake Irish accent, and an after-school special called "Because Mommy's Drunk."  Yeah, it's that good.  

 

 Anyway, back to Suzie.  She is pictured above with the big red lips and the gigantic Coach bag.  I was just a junior college transfer student from a suburb of LA called "Orange County" and I had never seen a Coach bag before.   Suzie was born and raised in San Francisco and had a style, a way about her, I hadn't ever come across at The Red Onion.   

Suzie was an artist.  She had the heart of a luminary and the mouth of a revolutionary, and when she stood up to Christophe (the towering Frenchman and the manager) on the left, and told him he treated us all "like dogs," threw down her apron, and walked out the narrow, wooden back door of The Savoy, I'm telling you, she was my hero. All I could do was stand there with my tray filled with Anchor Steams and Jager shots and watch her leave, knowing full well, she was NEVER coming back. 

...and she didn't.  She got herself a studio in the East Bay, which has over the years has become India Rose.  

 

Now, here's the shopping portion of the post, the really good stuff.  As I said, Suzie--who now goes by the name "Carter," her maiden name--has always had style, but talent too.  She's been very successful selling her home furnishings to retailers all over the world.  You may have heard of a little shop I've mentioned here called A.N.T.H.RO.P.O.L.O.G.I.E?  (...moment of reverence.) 

She sells to them...

things like this...

and this...

Oh, and I want this...

 

So great. And because I would always ask her if she wanted a Snapple when I would run across the street from The Savoy to get one for myself, and because I once covered her 9 p.m. to 3 a.m. shift (the most dreaded), she said she would give all the "Alive in Wonderland" readers 25% off EVERYTHING on her site.   

Here it is again : INDIA ROSE!  Just type in promotion code daily25 and you will get the discount I so selflessly earned for you.   

Bustin' Down the Door and The Surfer's Code: Awesome, even if you don't surf

This post is mostly about surfing.  I don't surf and never have, but I grew up in Huntington Beach immersed in the sport and attitude of surfing.  But, when Shaun Tomson, one of the greatest surfers who ever paddled out to catch a wave, walked into our cafe in Carpenteria 8 years ago, I didn't know who he was. 

Shaun and his wife Carla were friendly, gracious, loyal customers.  They would come in with their son, Mathew, sometimes and I would watch them sharing a meal and talking warmly to each other.  I was so saddened when I heard the news of their son's tragic death.  

I mean, really devastated.  

During the time we knew the Tomsons Larry and I were trying desperately to get pregnant, but with no success.  If you've ever struggled with infertility you know, it's pretty much all you can think about.  Babies are flippin' everywhere. Every women you see is pregnant.  Every family you lay eyes on is happy and contented.  

To me, the picture of their family, and especially Carla's tenderness toward her son, were inspiration to keep trying.  She would say things to me like "You're going to be a great mom" or give me the thumbs up when I would hold a customer's baby.  It was what I needed at that time in my life. It's not like we were all chummy or anything-- just casual acquaintances. But, their family was important to me in a way they probably didn't even know.

You know how life is, once I got pregnant (finally) and we moved back to Orange County, I didn't really think about them much...until I heard about Mathew.  I sent Carla a card, but I don't know if she ever received it, but I hope she did. 

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

The other night Larry and I watched "Busting Down The Door," a surf documentary about how Shaun Tomson, Wayne "Rabbit" Bartholomew, and Mark Richards ignited a surf movement in the mid-'70s that has made surfing the professional sport it is today.  Even if you don't surf and know nothing about it, I would still recommend seeing it.    ( Watch the trailer here)  

The love these guys have for surfing, the tenacity they showed as young men pursuing their passion, and the hardships they have overcome, makes this documentary powerful with some intensely personal moments.  

Yes, it does have some pretty bitchin' surf sequences that will make you elbow the person next to you a million times to say, "Did you see that?"  It also will give you a heavy dose of retro '70s surf culture: Lighting Bolt surfboards and puka shells, that sort of thing.

In the last scene of the movie they show the three of them today--Shaun, Rabbit and MR--walking out to surf together again.  As they each ride a wave they cut seamlessly to video of them riding back in the '70s--chills, you'll get chills watching it.  

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

This is The Surfer's Code, written by Shaun Tomson.  Now that you know a little of his story, you'll see it is meaningful to anyone, not just a surfer.

Surfer's Code:

I will never turn my back on the ocean

I will always paddle back out

I will take the drop with commitment

I will know that there will always be another wave

I will realize that all surfers are joined by one ocean

I will paddle around the impact zone

I will never fight a rip tide

I will watch out for other surfers after a big set

I will pass on my stoke to a non-surfer

I will ride, and not paddle in to shore

I will catch a wave every day, even in my mind

I will honor the sport of kings

❃❃❃❃❃❃

Leonard Cohen's "Who by Fire"

 plays at the beginning of "Bustin' Down The Door."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Libby's giving you CREDIT, and no one is doing that these days

 

My friend Libby Spears, who I have talked about before, and who I am beside myself with pride, has almost completed her documentary "Playground." 

Playground is a film born out of Libby's giant heart.  After hearing horrific stories about child sex trafficking in the United States, Libby began the long, difficult process of documenting the practice. The subject of domestic commercial sexual exploitation of children is ugly and despicable and certainly hard to hear about,  but I'm glad there are people like Libby who have made it their life's mission to expose it and in doing so, help extinguish it.

She has traveled the world getting interviews and following leads.  I hardly ever know where she is or where she is going. Sometimes my only clue to her whereabouts is the sporadic  Facebook photo of a plastic bunny in a Tokyo shop window or blurry profile of her named "southeast asia."  Her life has been about finishing "Playground" for I can't even remember how long...and now she is soooo close. 

If you want to help Libby, you're in luck.  She has set-up an easy way to donate that won't take a huge bite out of your recession-weary budget.  You can buy a credit in the film for $25.  Please go to her site here--The Playground Project--and check out the details. 

Thank you, Libby.  You inspire.  I love you, my sweet friend--wherever you are.

We were never being boring

This is a picture of my friend Robin and me in Paris, 1990.  We posed like this for every picture in front of every monument we saw in Europe. We were trying to stick- it to Robin's mom who was a travel agent and perfectionist extraordinaire.   

We thought it would be funny when she meticulously combed through the pictures that there wouldn't be a serious one in the lot.

But, just like all things done to our parents in spite, it turned out only to hurt us...I don't have one good picture of us being serious in front of a monument in Europe, 1990. 

The New Prez

Well, he did it. He took the oath and starting tomorrow he will get to work. There's a feeling of optimism and relief kicking around the internet and surprisingly in the real world as well. That almost never happens. 

 Even my parents, who have a Bill O'Reilly "The buck stops here" door mat, are waiting with hopeful anticipation to see what will happen next. 

The peaceful transfer of power was actually peaceful.  "The birds are signing. It's a beautiful day. We have a new president. It really feels like the dawning of a new day." That's what Larry said when I saw him after he watched the inauguration this afternoon. 

(Can't resist the overwhelming need to remind you he's a tough guy after that 'birds are signing' line.) 

Though it seems so long ago, it was only last November that we elected our new President. I made this video on election day.  In case you want to relive it a little...

Tastes Like Liberty, Election Day, 2008 from Suzanne Broughton on Vimeo.

Do you love the artwork above? You can own one of your very own "The Prez" linocut by going to Three Fish Studio and ordering it from the talented--and I have to add dashing-- Eric Rewitzer.

Marcy and me

This is Marcy and me with our friend Goofy. I really like this picture of us (Marcy and me) because of the story it tells: Two girls of a certain age posing with Goofy at a Mom Blogger event hosted by Disneyland--but that's only part of the story.

I met Marcy online. She started to comment on my blog at OC Register.com and then made it over to my personal blog from there. She would leave looooong, detailed comments, sometimes complete with all the literary elements; protaganists, antagonists (usually some Mom at her kids' school), foil. She had a lot to say and always came to some clever resolution at the end.

She was a natural, prolific blog commentor, which we all know is just another way of saying she was someone who needed to get her own blog. One night, late at night, I emailed her to say I thought she should start a blog. The next morning I woke up and there it was: The Glamorous Life.

We have been good friends ever since. Because of our common love of all things related to blogging, writing, photography, and smarminess we have built a friendship that is familiar and warm, though sometimes we don't see each other for months. We float easily from blog world to real world. Once even having a an incident at lunch which resulted in me telling her to "Zip it." We worked it out on Twitter in our cars on the way home like most people. (What? No?) The whole episode resulted in her famous quote, "A friend should be able to tell another friend to shut up ever once in a while." Wise words, indeed.

Disneyland hosted a party for Mom Bloggers and their families this weekend as a special holiday treat. Marcy and I were there; taking pictures of our food, searching for the bar (which Marcy found in another room), and making wisecracks during the pastry demonstration. Both of us feeling "Disneyland love" deep in our hearts since we were kids, this was an extraordinary weekend.

So we both jumped at the chance to get our picture taken with Goofy. See how happy we look? We weren't fakin' it. That's joy. So when you hear people talk about the "evils" of the internet. How online relationships don't result in anything meaningful just think of this picture of Marcy and me. It's proof good can come from cyberspace...and also that we are four kinds of geeky, but that's another story.

*****

We saw Fantasmic on Friday night and it was Terrifmic! I made this HD video of the whole show.

Fantasmic Part 1

Fantasmic Part 2

Bern and Jen's wedding video

We went to the wedding of Bern and Jen last Sunday in San Clemente.  Bern is the brother of my sister-in-law Angie, who passed away over three years ago from a devastating disease called Scleroderma. She was married to my brother Rob, and we all miss her every day. 

This is Angie.

Yes, she was beautiful.  But, she was also unmatched in her kindness and never-ceasing cheerfulness. And her laugh? She could get a whole room laughing.

Tragedy seems to make the sweeter moments in life more precious and this wedding was proof of it.  Sure, I cried a little when I saw Angie and Bern's parents...and when I hugged Bern dressed in his tux...and when Jen walked out with her dad...and when I saw the little bracelet on the table dedicated to Angie...and when they played "What a Wonderful World," by Louis Armstrong (Angie's favorite song).   

Make no mistake, there was a little crying, but that didn't stop me from having a great time and making this little video. 

The wedding was elegant and beautiful, and so was the bride.

Here are a few quick notes about the video:

Jen asked me to video tape their first dance, and it's a proven fact, that no on can say "no" to those enormous blue eyes of hers.

My brother Randall thinks every girl he meets has a crush on him.

I see every video I make as a chance to flaunt the awesomeness of '80s music.

You have to watch the dance all the way through.

Enjoy.

Bern and Jen's wedding video from Suz Broughton on Vimeo.

We love you guys! Congratulations!

My brother's cheerleader

That's me, about 10-years-old, fully dressed in my cheerleading uniform for the mighty Huntington Beach Tritons. The Tritons were the Pop Warner team of my older brother, Randall.

The cheerleading squads were made up of the sisters of the football players. We were a mixed bag of trunk-legged fourteen-year-old, weepy six-year-olds, and future high school cheerleaders, who saw this as their opportunity to start bossing us future high school yearbook editors around.

I really, really wanted to be a cheerleader, but my fear of competition and inability to master the kick ball change kept me from ever going any further than the afternoon football fields of Huntington Beach that one season.

Truth is, I mostly just liked the uniforms--pom-poms, blue vans tennis shoes, handmade, pleated skirt. I have had a lifetime habit of choosing a sport by its uniform. It has served me well, because now, the only "sport" I participate in is walking my dogs (for which I wear flip flops and jeans).

That's my brother Randall. He didn't look like much of a threat on the football field, mostly because of his pretty hair. Even when it was covered with a helmet, his cute, sweaty blonde strands were still just precious sticking out the bottom.

At thirteen, Randall was already struggling to learn the delicate balance of being honest and sensitive--something most grown men still haven't mastered. I asked him one night after a game if our cheering helped him while he was on the field.

"No, we can't really even hear you," he said casually as he took a bite of his sloppy joe.

Me, with a jittery, pre-cry voice which is recognizable to anyone who knows me, barely got out, "Oh."

I clearly remember Randall looking at me from across our family dinner table and I know he understand that he had thrown a dagger at my inner-cheerleader.

In a clever move, way beyond his years, he recovered quickly by adding, "But we can SEE you out there, and that really helps. Just to SEE you there."

Nice one.

More Randall you say:
Happy Birthday Randall
"Every picture tells a story don' it?"

Dinner with Libby at Hungry Cat in Los Angeles

Last night...another trip into Los Angeles.

With a Mapquest perched on my lap Larry and I hit the 405 to the restaurant Hungry Cat on Hollywood and Vine. We were meeting our old friend from San Francisco, Libby Spears. (Please click here if you want the lowdown on how we met.)

She has completed her documentary "Playground" about the child sex trade in the United States. Libby's now working on distrabution of the film and building The NEST Foundation, an organization that will help raise awareness of the problem of commercial sexual exploitation (CSE) of American children and also create shelters for these kids. I know. I am beside myself with admiration of her sacrifice and commitment to this issue.

It's always fun to see her and don't let the stark, weighty nature of her work let her be mistaken for a "Debbie Downer." (Which she has unjustly been called at dinner parties after explaining what she does. Rude.) Her big heart, quick laugh, and easy, southern temperament makes her a fine dinner companion.

Libby is a professionally trained chef, so when she said Hungry Cat had THE BEST food in Los Angeles you gotta take it seriously. Everyone knows chefs RARELY say that unless it's about their own restaurant, so we were ready to be dazzled.

Hungry Cat is known for its cocktails and Libby and I both ordered this: Hot Tamale. It's like a margarita, but with all fresh juices and a nice big red chili pepper plopped right down in it. If Scott Glenn in Urban Cowboy can make something "icky" in his tequila look good, then so could Libby and I. It was the best cocktail I've had since Bing Crosby's.

Totally organic and earth friendly is Hungry Cat. "We don't kill the fish to get our caviar. We perform a c-secion on them, take the eggs out, sew them back up, and send them on their way," Roxanne, our waitress explained. (Don't worry, totally got that on tape.)

Given the Karma, the food was outrageously scrumptious.

We must have stayed at that table by the front door for 3 hours talking, laughing, enjoying freshly pressed coffee...

(Today's snapshot: French Press)

and me secretly waiting for Craig Ferguson to come crashing in, grab me by the waist and pose for a picture with me. Never happened-- but that was truly the only disappointment of the evening.

Every picture tells a story...don' it?

I have been wanting to participate in "Sincerely 'Fro me to you" blog carnival for weeks, but have simple been too busy. So since I am determined to avoid my responsibilities tonight, I thought this was as good as time as any to join in the madness.

Kristen at "We are that family" puts on a great carnival. We are meant to post a picture from our past and tell a little story about it. So off I go...and thanks Kristen!

This is a picture of my brothers and me.

(Rob, me and Randall, 1969)

See how my brother Rob has his arm firmly around my shoulder? This is the perfect illustration of his character and attitude toward me as his little sister. He was my great protector. Almost every picture I found with the three of us, he has his arm around me.

As a young girl, every night I would slip into my brother's shared room and sleep next to Rob's bed. When I was scared, just having him close was enough for me. I truly believed nothing could "get" me if Rob were there.

When I got older, he didn't shy away from me like most brothers. He would take me down to the Sunset Beach with him in the summer. Drive me around in his bitchin' Plymouth Duster listening to ELO and let me tag along to parties and to school events.

He even bought me a "Cars" t-shirt when he went to their concert, WITH his own money, which I proceeded to wear proudly to the first day of seventh grade. He was thoughtful. He was kind.

Weird--right? For a teenager to care for his little sister so much. He says now it was because I was fun to have around, not a "pain" like some sisters.

Umm, nice try Rob, there was more to it than that...

I didn't have the best dad in the world--not the worst, but sadly, not the a very good one. I think my brothers knew it and took the responsibility on themselves to help me grow up. How I got so lucky, I will never know. What I do know, if I am a happy, productive person now, it is largely because I had brothers who loved me and weren't afraid to show it.

Thanks Rob.

You can read about Randall--here..

LoRee Brooks at the Laguna Playhouse

I had written about going to see LoRee Brooks at The Laguna Playhouse at the Clean Comics Showcase--Here. I promised a video of her performance as soon as Jill got her technical act together--which she did weeks ago.
So here it is. Sound is a little low--so turn up that volume!

Finding a new home for my Uncle Bob

This is my Uncle Bob and me. He is 86-years-old and he is moving in to his new retirement home today in Laguna Woods! My brothers and I have spent the last week getting his new pad ready and I think hope he is going to love it.

Because I have been so busy, I posted "Songs from the 70s rewritten by the artists after they had kids" on the Mom Blog today. This was my list from -McSweeney's Internet tendencies Lists- it might just be a repeat for some...I did add a few new ones.

Lisa Mertins' Story today in The Register

Everyone, this is Lisa Mertins....Lisa, this is everyone. Lisa was the illustrator for "Alive in Wonderland" and, more importantly, is a good friend.

She wrote this feature in today's Morning Read-Help! My Husband Is Despondent Over Lost Love.

It is an amusing tale of being left on the outside of your husband's obsession. I slightly have this kind of thing going on with UFC, but Larry has yet to shed a tear over Chuck "THE ICEMAN" Liddell.

Please take a look and leave her a comment if you like it. She is getting a few people nipping at her heels-- not sure why some have to be so negative, geesh! (Expression Geesh is blantant rip-off from Nik. It's a good one.)

This is an illustration by Lisa of this Favre fellow.

Read it in the Monday paper

Arrrrr so late...

Message from my mom this morning, 7:03 am: "I hon, what do I see here in the paper? Oh-My-Gosh! It is this beautiful (it is my mom), talented young lady...We are so proud of you. I am sending this to all of my friends." And she will too.

The Orange County Register did a feature on The Mom Blog today in the Life Section. It had pictures of most of the bloggers and a little write up. To my mom and dad this was huge. I mean, it was for me too.

Here is Lisa Mertins reading the paper at Mustard's Cafe in the Circle in Orange today. She didn't want her picture taken because she wasn't properly dolled-up, though I thought she looked ravishing in a poncho...

(You might be able to see the Mom Blog illo on the front page...Also appearing on the front page, Keith Sharon's piece: Here.)

Lisa was the illustrator for "Alive in Wonderland" and she gave me this present today (complete with red bow)...

I will cherish it always. When I am hunched over in a convalescent home someday, I will look at it--placed next to my photo of Captain Gene--and remember her friendship (and how lucky I was to be able to write my own column--if only for a short while).

I am sorry now you can't rush out and get the Monday paper because it is officially Tuesday. If you really want one, I am sure my mom has PLENTY to spare.

I choose my (Cyber) friends only far too well: Marcy Photos

I've "met" many people within this "cyberland" of my blog. These "cyber friends" (okay, I'll stop with the quotes, so annoying) I get to know pretty well. One such person is "Marcy Photos" or just Marcy if you like. She is a regular reader and prolific commentator at (Emphasis Mine), which I wholeheartedly appreciate.

Marcy is a commercial photograher in Orange County (Check out her fab site here,) but she also has an artistic flair. She sent me this photo after I posted "My David Lynch Moment."

Seriously creepy, and when I say creepy, I mean brilliant. She educated clueless-about-anything-artsy me on this type of photography--it's called digital composition photo art. She went on to tell me this photo has over 15 images layered within it and sometimes these pieces take over 80 hours to produce! (hmmm...spending hour upon hour on something you are passionate about when you could be watching TV or embracing your responsibilities...sounds familiar...)

More you say?...settle down...I love this one. Would be great on the new OC Moms site at The Register.

Ahhhh so cute...and so true.

I know! She should have an Etsy store, but sadly she doesn't (yet). I also think she should have her very own blog on her "MarcyPhotos" site. She obviously has "the gift" of our special kind of gab.

"Perfect skin" by Lloyd Cole

Meet Little Henry As He Realizes His Lot In Life

My brother, Randall and my sister-in-law, Meghan, had their second child, Henry Norman, on Monday. 

I took this video of Henry just hours after he was born. As we all stood around him introducing ourselves, he looked at us in a way that seemed disapproving and skeptical. I love his reaction when we say, "We're your family." I think the reality of his lot in life becomes just too much for him to bear and he does one of the only things a newborn can do when they have heard too much--lose all control of his neck muscles.

.

View "Hello Henry: We're Your Family" Video here.

(The annoying laughter coming from behind the camera is mine...sorry.)

Isn't he adorable?

I loved that special time in the hospital just after I had my kids.  Everything was just perfect there.   I loved my little nurse’s button.

Buzz..." Can you please bring me a cranberry spritzer?" (Hoag brings them to you by the gallons!)
Buzz... "Can you bring me my baby?"
Buzz... "Can you please come get my baby, I feel a little tired?" (Ha! A little tired.)
Buzz… "I am feeling a little pain, can I have a little something?"
Buzz..."Can you come home with me, please?"

Oh, how I LOVED that nifty nurse’s button!