Brain Fut

So today we ventured as a tight-knit unit into unknown territory...a shopping mall. Why, you ask, do we torture our poor sleep deprived bodies like this? Well, Mom, Sister, Sebastien, Rufus, and I were on our way back Town side from the Orchid Show in Wahiawa (which btw was very pretty and smelled nice) and decided that Pearlridge Uptown was a good place to stop and take care of a couple errands. My Mom needed to return an item, and I needed to exchange a gift - a book - that I won't name by name, but if you've ever been pregnant, or bought a book for someone who's pregnant, you probably know which series of books I'm talking about.

I, myself am not a fan of this very popular series of books. My tolerance for books that feel more like an episode of Scare Tactics rather than encouraging you to trust your body is barely visible. Even though this book had more to do with the raising of a child than it did with pregnancy, it still came from the same shitty heritage of books that can suck a big fat one. Wherein lies my decision to exchange the gift. Hence our decision to brave the mall.

There we were, Sebastien fast asleep in his stroller, and my tired, tortured, sleep deprived body, in line, ready to exchange the (well meaning, but sorry I just can't do it) gift for the glorious book of my choosing. The cashier looked at the gift receipt and then back at me. And she looked confused. And I was kind of oblivious (see the part about sleep deprivation). I was trying to return the item to the WRONG BOOK STORE. Not just the wrong location, but the wrong chain of stores all together.

I felt more like an ass than I probably should have. I do realize I've been wrestling a newborn for sleeping rights (and losing horribly) for a month and a half. Oh well...I'll probably never see that cashier again. And if I do, I won't remember her face. I'm so tired I can barely see past my unibrow.

I guess the next book in the series should be "What Not To Expect When You Were Expecting To Exchange This Book For Something Better".

One-Handed

MUSIC: I grew up on piano lessons and Leonard Cohen cassettes. I learned to play guitar because it's easier than piano. I tried to write songs because my insides wanted out. I recorded other people's records because I got sick of my music. I joined a band because I like people. I quit the band so I could keep liking people. I stopped everything because I got pregnant. I am back because I find myself wanting more.

MOTHERHOOD: I recently joined the Mommy club with the birth of my son, Sebastien. Hello diapers and sore nips. Goodbye independence (for now). I had 9 months to prepare to be a Mama, so I got a dog and spent most of it preparing to give birth. The birth was fabulous. No more Mama scrimmage - game time *tsua*!!!

MISC: I have many loves besides music and my family; some of which I may or may not write about in this here blog, and may or may not include the following subjects: photography, sewing, furniture, books, love itself, your mom... You get the idea.

From here on out I will do my best to keep myself entertained while my son falls asleep in my arms, causing my whole left arm and right butt cheek to fall asleep as well. Why a blog? Well, my imaginary friend/reader, it's easier to type than it is to play my guitar with one hand. Mustn't wake the little beast.

Music makes me think. Thinking makes me write. Echo. Heighten. Echo. Heighten.