Saturday, April 9, 2011

When I think about you, I text myself...

I just went through all of my recent text messages to myself, because I knew I had written down some blog ideas in there. Those ideas, like the middle-of-the-night poem fragments I jot down in a fit of creativity upon waking from a dream, don’t hold up to the light of day. But the journey—the navel-gazing archeology of a month’s worth of notes and reminders to oneself—is a journey worth taking.

* Pandora stations: Iron and Wine, Horse Feathers

* A “review” of Sam Adams Infinium during my informal craft beer sampling with @TheHopLocal and his beautiful wife (my very close friend). I will not post the full review here, because they are her words, not mine, but it contained a lot of profanity and compared the nose on the beer to “rotten banana, feet, and f***ing balls.” In case you’re wondering, no, we didn’t like it.

* A reminder to buy my son a particular truck from Pixar’s movie Cars, because he doesn’t have enough trucks and Disney doesn’t have enough of our money yet.

* Possible blog title brainstorming session. Most are terrible. None contain “ding dong,” so they are all clearly inferior to this one. Best of the rest was “Bikini Wax Poetic.” Imagine the logo possibilities. No really, take a moment. Imagine them. Um, yeah.

* List of stuff to bring to the multi-family yard sale at my friend’s house. Libations and snacks figure prominently on the list. Singles and quarters to make change… not on the list. Oops. Also missing: sunscreen. Priorities.

* Car locations, car locations, car locations. “Garage 2, zone 4f, purple.” “Straight back from the C in Children’s Place.”

* Author and book recommendations. Which I may look into as soon as I finish reading the Outlander series… again. Mmmmm, men in kilts.

* A list of makeup products recommended by the fantastically talented Isabella Bastien, who recently came to speak to our mothers of multiples club about how not to look like we had two or three babies at once and never quite recovered. In a frenzy of self-improvement, I jotted down brand names of things like eye primer. Eye primer? Why did I think I needed this? I was not drunk when I wrote that note to myself, but I must have been intoxicated by how gorgeous the makeup model’s eyes looked when a semi-famous makeup artist worked her magic, because seriously? Eye primer? My lip gloss is Burt’s Bees lip balm with the silver shimmers in it. I do not need eye primer.

So there you have it. A month’s worth of me talking to myself. Apropos for a first blog entry, methinks.

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