Zelda's sensible sibling...

In order to up the my volume of freelance writing work (and maybe design work if I can stomach it), I've set up an account on Elance...

Dear imaginary reader, I introduce you to Jane:
http://www.everydayjane.elance.com/

(My occasional REAL readers are also welcome! They, however should keep in mind that I've yet to finish my profile or add in any of my past work. Once that happens, I assure you, I shall post again...)

Barenaked Ladies

These are some of the long poses (1.5 hours) from my spring life painting class at the Greenwich Art Society. The first one on top is also the first thing I painted for about ten years before taking this class. It took a few sessions and some work at home before I had my confidence back. Sadly, I stopped taking the class in June and haven't been painting much at home. By now I'm probably quite rusty again!

take that Kafka!

After an eight year struggle with the bureaucracies of the New Jersey, New York and Connecticut DMVs, I am now legal to drive.

Soccer mommydom here I come!

Please don't assume that I'm a drunk driver or other derelict. My great sin was going to the store to get a birthday present for my then fiance (now an ex, thank God!) while I was sick with the flu. I fainted while in line to pay for the gift and the checkout clerk called an ambulance while I was still out cold. This was back in 2000 and I was living in New Jersey at the time.

A word to the wise: If you happen to faint in public and aren't actually dying, never, never let an ambulance cart you away. The medical authorities are legally required to report any fainting incident to the DMV. The DMV then follows up with your doctor to find out if you are ok to drive. In an ideal world your doctor would promptly send the DMV a form back, clearing your name. I've learned, however, that when dealing with the DMV and the medical profession, you assume for an ideal world at your own risk.

My doctor was moving to the UK. Once he was gone for good, his office failed to follow up and send the DMV the form that could clear me. Before I was even aware what was going on, they had suspended my licence. To get it back I had to pass a medical review.

I failed the review. The tilt table test was my downfall. A close cousin to the dunk test for witches, the tilt table test involves being strapped to a table that is tilted back and forth like an amusement park ride. If you faint you fail. I fainted in the first 30 seconds causing the technician to later exclaim, "I think that was a new record! You're a fainter all right!". Um, thanks.

Since I'd failed, I could only prove myself worthy of a licence if I was able to provide the DMV with forms filled out by a doctor indicating that that I had not fainted for a year and was deemed safe to drive. Not only did that mean waiting a year, it meant tracking down a doctor that was not afraid of getting sued if I ended up having an accident. This of course is impossible.

After many doctors and many fruitless attempts, I was able to trick a particularly flighty physician into filling out the paperwork for me and clearing my good name (this good doctor would also give me a Rx for any medication I requested, no questions asked. If you give me twenty bucks I'll give you her name.) Anyway, I excitedly submitted this precious paperwork to the New Jersey DMV.

My name was cleared! I no longer had a suspension!

There was only one problem. I now lived in New York. New Jersey was obligated to report my "condition" to New York and New York required different paperwork proving I wouldn't faint behind the wheel and endanger their good citizens. My doctor was flighty, but not that flighty. When I came back to her with a new set of papers the red flags went off. She would fill them out, but only if I passed a medical review.

You guessed it, the tilt table test!

This time I demurred. Failing that test would mean at least another year of waiting and I didn't have much hope that I'd pass. After all, last time I'd set a record. Plus I was a New Yorker and didn't really need to drive anyway.

Turns out I should have tried my luck with the test. Time passed and I procrastinated in my search for a new naive (or just nice) doctor. In the meantime, my licence expired. To drive I would have to now retake the driving test as well. Accepting defeat, I lived as a happy New Yorker for many years, very little inconvenienced by my lack of licence.

Then I met and married a wonderful man who swept me away to Connecticut and to a new struggle with the DMV. In Connecticut you really do have to drive to get by.

As luck would have it, the Connecticut DMV considered a cleared medical suspension in New Jersey to be good enough for them. No tilt table test needed!

Now I just had to pass the driver's test. Easy, right?

Well I hadn't driven for eight years. Lets just say I was rusty. Plus I was stupid. I attempted my first test using my husband's little red stick shift. I'm decent at stick shift, but in retrospect I didn't stand a chance to pass. I failed in the first two minutes. I never even made it out of the parking lot. The tester had me back up into a parking space that was at an odd angle and on an incline. First I stalled and then I revved way, way too fast.

Take two was even more pathetic. We borrowed a automatic car. Problem was it was out of state and we brought the wrong paperwork. Oh yeah, we also showed up on the wrong day. They didn't let me take the test at all. Opps!

The third try was the charm. My tester, the nicest man in the world, declared me to be "an excellent driver, but a nervous Nelly".

"You seem pretty happy to have passed", he observed.

He had no idea.

"the bean"

We call our baby "bean".

On our first ultrasound, long before he revealed himself as an alien, he looked like a bean. The name has stuck and I'm a little afraid that It's going to be difficult to transition to the baby's given name when the time comes.

Is it cruel and unusual to call your baby "bean" once he's born? My hubby's parent's nickname for him was a chinese phrase that means "small fat" (he, he!!). That's worse!

I think the kid's just lucky that we didn't see that alien ultrasound first...

Aww...he passed his first test

The results are in and our baby has only a 1 in 50,000 chance of Downs Syndrome! GO BEAN! An amnio has a 1 in 200 chance of miscarriage, so we're going to pass on taking that test. (Ok, the real reason that we are skipping the amnio is that we heard that a friend's baby was nearly stuck in the head with the needle during theirs. I got freaked out and have lobbied against the test ever since. )

Anyway, three cheers for the bean!! Keep up the good work little fellow. Mommy and Daddy are praying for you!

Oh also, I use the term "he" only in the most general of ways. I'll get more specific on the 15th when we have our next appointment. Should our child cooperate, we'll find out the gender then.

While I'm doing show and tell ("The Winner")

This is the painting of my super-sexy husband that won an award!! yay!!

For the record, It never crossed my mind while painting this that people might see the lighthouse in the background as an er...phallic symbol. They did. (embarrassing.)

and ("The Reject")

This is the illustration that was rejected from a local exhibit of work for children.

She WAS beautiful...

Today's Sitter

Perhaps she wasn't beautiful,

Today's sitter, in the patterned hippie dress
my husband, who prides himself on his eye for that sort of thing, thought not.
But I was fascinated by her nonetheless
by her boyish half sentences
and her frizzy hair.
She smelled of smoke.
A pity, I thought
it will one day wreck havoc on all that translucent skin,
then maybe the lines on her face will match it's wizened expression.
She was going to Thailand,
or Vietnam.
Or one of those places young people go nowadays
instead of France.
Perhaps she wasn’t beautiful,
but I prefer her to the photogenic blond from last week
with the carefully applied make-up and the complacent smile.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(I started this painting and later wrote the poem in the hopes of retrofitting it to work for a juried exhibit of "art based on poetry". Sadly, I was unable to finish the painting in time to enter. (This photo only shows the finished part - it's full length but the bottom still a sketch.) From what I could tell jurist was a thoroughly modern gal so it may have all been for the best anyway. Who knows if she'd have chosen a portrait. And a rejection would have crushed my soul.

To date I have entered two other juried shows. In the first I won an award for painting of my dear hubby. The second was a show of children's art and I was rejected. Yes, my soul was crushed... )

"Twenty-Year-Old Brother Marries Girl He's Known Three Months" or "Yes, My Family is Mormon"

Ok, I exaggerated, but not by much. He'll have known her six months on the day of the wedding (Aug. 22nd). They were engaged after three months and he's been in the UK on a study abroad (without her) for the last three.

I would chock the whole disaster up to sexual desperation, but it's more complex than that. Right before meeting this girl he was desperately in love with another - but she dumped him on his butt while he was away on him Mormon mission. So the prognosis: sexual desperation AND a bad rebound case.

I feel sorry for his bride. She's a very nice girl and looks like she's about ten years old. Fifty bucks says that she'll be pregnant within a year.

My shocked husband tried to talk some sense into the boy but was ignored. I tried too and ended up yelling over the phone, "YOU ARE GOING TO WRECK YOUR LIFE AND HERS!". Nice.

Once it was all a done deal and he'd proposed I designed their wedding invitations in order to kiss and make-up. (Shown right).

I was also pressured to write a poem to read at their reception and that's also below. My other brothers all all writing poems too. Such a pity for us all that it's a dry wedding. Actually, the timing really isn't that bad. It's not like I would get smashed anyway. Not with my alien child to consider.

Anyway, here's the (sappy but true) poem:

No Longer Three

My memories have faded, as I left when you were young
But in my early teens, I cared for you like a son
Your first word was "Nanny"
an accurate description,
as well of your rendition of, "Mandy".

One phrase you always hated was "Oh, that was before you were born".
You wanted to be a big kid, and I wanted you to stay newborn

Or at the least a toddler, of one or two or three
Chasing down the cat or bouncing on my knee
But you grew up too quickly
Or at least too quickly for me.

But don't worry, brother mine, I know that you're all grown
I'm proud of you for many things (though of others make me groan).
It shocks me to see you married, but it's clear that you choose well.
I hope she'll teach you to stay young at heart your brand new bride, your Holly belle.

Just please forgive me in advance, cause when you are old and bald,
And no longer go by Rob or Hal -- "Daddy" is what you're called.
You can still count on me
To be oblivious, to the fact, that you're no longer three.

Hire Me

Pregnant lady with poor social skills seeks creative, meaningful work where she will not have to attend meetings, interact with co-workers, present to clients or email anybody at all. A talented writer, artist, and designer she lacks the motivation to finish most projects and would prefer not to alter anything to accommodate the client's comments. A terrible manager, she has extensive experience redoing subordinates work so she is not forced to mentor them -- or even speak to to them at all. If a new version of software is introduced she is unlikely to learn the features. She finds the small vintage toys that decorate your desk trite and does not want to hear about your new Mac. If hired, she will soon go on pregnancy leave, never to return.

I'm pregnant with an alien spawn

The truth isn't out there...

It's right in here.

(Lord save me, I'm so creeped out! Maybe it's just a stage or something....)