Wet Feet

bookin'

i tried to resist facebook. i really did. just like i tried to resist myspace (not like you could tell now, but i totally did). like, "i have my own domain! more than one! why would i need a myspace page?"

well.

i signed up for facebook a long time ago almost by accident. am i the only one who absentmindedly follows buttons until they've clicked their way into a private forum or public humiliation? i hope not.

anyway. facebook frightened me away at first with all the poking and notifications and it seemed so naked, it made me use my last name and it seemed like i couldn't even visit someone's page without my cousin's best friend and my highschool boyfriend being notified. "how am i going to stalk people? get me out of here!"

and then scrabulous lured me back inside, and oregon trail locked the door behind me (high school apple II e flashback! woot!). i've downloaded embarrassing apps like "what color is you aura?" and "what's 1950's pinup are you?" the kinds of things that you can't just do privately, you have to tell your friends you were dumb enough to take the test before it will give you your results. but you can't resist.

i added facebook mobile ("updates on my cell phone? why not?"). i'm not sure how it works. i thought i'd get notified when i've been poked, but so far not. oddly enough, the only thing that's happened so far is that yesterday i got three twitter-style status updates in a row from one person, all worded slightly differently. it left me wondering. "well, did you join a cult or didn't you?"

speaking of twitter, to those of you "following" me there, i am currently in my resistance phase to the crack of social networking sites. i'm sure i'll break down eventually and you'll begin to get twitterings from me in the middle of the day and night: "kateri is catastrophising about tumors. again." or- "kateri is digging for something she needs and will know what it is when she finds it." or- "kateri is very inspired by reading "Armageddon In Retrospect" but finds the images of war too disturbing to read at night". be forewarned.

I'm Back

Dude, where the hell have I BEEN?

1. As long-term readers of this blog know, Jan 6 is E's birthday. This year I made her a scarf, and it's so yummy i want to keep it. It is a seeded rib, which means one row of k3 p3, and one row of k1 p1. Easy, fast, and not too boring.

This year I am including a note that something to the effect of "I'd like to know you better, just so I know what toto knit for you next year". Creaking that door open inch by inch, year by year. I figure I've already lost The Dream. Better work on something real.

This birthday wasn't as bad as last year, but it was still a whopper. This loss is on a cellular level and I have to let my body do what it needs to do. I slept a lot. I cried some. I consoled myself with the thought that with some authentic effort from me, she might learn to love me someday, and we'll have a relationship. I allowed myself to imagine myself with her, which is, believe it or not, not a place I've ever let myself go before. It felt good. It made me smile.

2. I saw Juno with Jul on Saturday. Let me tell you, it was excruciating. Juno believed everything I believed when I was placing, before I knew better. The movie was rife with stereotypes, bad ethics, and common ignorance. Interesting soundtrack, but it wasn't enough to cover up the fact that the lighthearted audience was laughing at things that made me die inside. I think I ruined the movie for the woman sitting next to me. And you know what? I'm glad. I hope she learned something.

3. And, for old times sake, since we've just passed my 3rd blogiversary, my first post to Wet Feet. Ah, naive Kateri. Will you get a troll? Oh yes, you will. But it will all be fine. I promise.

And here's another find, something I'd forgotten that i wrote about the difference it made to be a birthmother in those first months after Naomi was born. I skated through the PPD danger zone on relief and gratitude.

4. Philly area disorganized people: my neighbor Rachael owns Hope and Space, and will help you put all your shit together. If you have any organization needs at all, call her. She is an awesome single mother and a dear friend. And if she could help me get my shit together, she can help anyone. I'll be plugging her again. And again. And then maybe another time. I love her that much.

all souls' night

last year on samhain i did a banishment ritual.

it was the largest focussed spiritual undertaking i had ever attempted, laden with props and symbolism. i was banishing things i had taken for granted as fundamental parts of me: my complacency, my insecurity, my incompetence, my sense of scarcity. each was matched with a direction, a color, a tarot card, a season, and a candle.

the ritual was meant to trigger events that would taken a full years' cycle to unfold. it's the kind of ritual i would have shrunk from in the deepest intimidation during my early days of paganism, when i was looking for easy fixes with no committment (light this candle! find true love!).

the unbloggable dominoes have been falling these past few weeks, in ways i never thought i'd see.

i wish i could say more.

Tis the Season...to knit for others

The weather is briskening and colors are turning and it's time to pick up the needles again.

Every year I mean to start gift knitting in August, but it's just too hot to hold wool in one's lap. And the humidity makes the yarn drag on my fingers. Blame global warming for my progressively later start every year.

Among this years' backlog, I have a birthday gift to finish for Saturday (status: on schedule, provided I spend most of Saturday knitting. If I'm ambitious, I might be able to finish that other thing I wanted to knit for her). I promised to make Naomi some leg warmers out of this soft teal alpaca that I got cheap on clearance last year (does anyone have any pattern suggestions for kid sized leg warmers?) I also have to make her another red fingerless glove to match the one that got lost last spring. There is the gift for the as-yet-unknown pollyanna person (assuming I'm going to find out Saturday, please let it be a woman, they are so much more interesting to knit for). And of course there is the knitting for E I do every year, which I haven't given one iota of thought to yet, except to write this sentence.

Knitting gifts is something I love to do because I can't help but think of the person I'm knitting for. I think of them from a practical standpoint ("will this fit their hand? will the color be something they like? will they care about that reversed stich I didn't notice until I was too many rows past it to consider ripping it out?") and I think of them, personally (remember the time when we taped ourselves making a radio show, and paged though a Teen magazine for ideas for commercials? remember when everything we owned had to be pink and black?)

The downside is that I have all these ideas of things to try for myself (a shrug! arm warmers! a shawl! a little bag!) but by the time January comes I'm sick of knitting. I start a few projects and never finish, so I have a drawer full of halfway completed things for myself. The girls often fall into this category as well, though Naomi is good about making sure I finish whatever I've started for her. I have a soaker for Miriam that's many sizes too small and not worth finishing (maybe I could turn it into a hat?). I have a blue hat from two years ago that should take an hour to complete except there are so many more interesting things to be knitting. Last year I didn manage to eek out a pair of striped fingerless gloves for myself (aka the handsweaters, pictured here at octoberfest, a day of silliness and revelry and dancing. And that lady there is my friend Garland's (ex?) girlfriend, and it looks like she's feeling me up but she totally wasn't), and I wear them to death even though they are not my best work (the thumbholes are loose. the top edge rolls too much, I should have bound off in purls instead of knits. the finishing is sloppy).

If I do manage to finish all my gift knitting without burning out, I want to try something more ambitious, like a poncho, or a sweater. You can't take those kinds of risks with knitting for others.

Happy Birthday to ME

My birthday presents to myself: a secondhand pair of Steve Madden shoes, black high heels with a rockin ankle strap from Buffalo Exchange. And, the new Radiohead cd. Yes, I purchased it, even though I can get it for free. I paid ten dollars. It's what I think a cd should cost. I want to be part of the solution, not part of the problem. And if you're a Radiohead fan, do not waste any more time not listening to this exquisite music.

It's a weird thing to think, but I never thought I'd make it to 30. I know everyone thinks that when they're living fast in their teens and twenties, but I really thought it. I woke up yesterday morning thinking "this is my last day on earth". And here I am, I've been officially 30 for twelve minutes.

there are so many good things about this age, but one of the best is that I've seen the results of these mindfucks I play on myself so many times, I know where it goes, I've seen it before, and I view myself and my mental shenanigans from the distance of experience.

As my neighbor and I agreed late last night over shiraz cabernet, the only thing better about being young is that you look good. Otherwise, you're insecure, judgemental, inexperienced, always out to prove something.

Hitting 30 is deep relief. I am happy in my skin. I can just be myself.

a note to bargain-shopping locals

The Old Navy at the Gallery is purging like an overstuffed bulimic. Half the women's section is taken up by tables of $4 shirts. There is nothing over $13. I bought many shirts, two skirts, a jacket, pajamas, and jeans for, oh, $60 or so. Get down there before the only things left are unflatteringly pleated pants.

This couldn't have come along at a better time, my cold weather clothes from last year, recently unearthed, are just a little too big to not look like pajamas.

the bad reviews are pouring in

Naomi took one look at my hair this morning and her face crumpled. "no more blue?"

"i felt like changing it"

"i liked having a blue hair mommy"

"i liked being a blue hair mommy. i'll do it again someday"

"today?"

"not today"

"tomorrow?"

"not tomorrow. maybe next summer"

"next SUMMER?" she collapsed into sobs.

The Reader Participation Post (from shallow to serious)

1. I am in a hair-related quandry. My Libran indecision is in full flower. My blue hair is fading, and is beginning to take on that look of jeans that should only be worn while painting or cleaning; the fading has moved beyond fashionable distress.

I have several choices before me:

a: dark, dark brown. the dye I have is reddish to counteract the coolness of the blue underneath. Not so red as to repeat the chocolate cherry fiasco of yesteryear. (actually, in digging up that post to add the link, I found it's from exactly a year ago. October 9. Do I sense a pattern here?)

b: black. I have a box of blue-black, but I don't know if my skin tone is quite ready. I need to be paler, and I"m still holding on to some summer color. But, it just occurred to me that it might turn out to be more navy blue, which could be kinda cool.

c. fuschia (don't ask me why I have this. I just do). I wouldn't be doing all-over fuschia, just some ends.

d. blue again. Keep the party rollin, yo.

Bear in mind my 30th birthday is Friday, and there will most likely be pictures taken. This makes me lean toward brown. It is the safest option. But I don't know. All options are on the table. I want to know what you think. So comment, and vote.

2. Speaking of my birthday, I'll be out all weekend. If you're local, you'll be able to find me. Liquid Charm on Friday, Tattooed Moms on Saturday. If you really think you might come out, email me for my phone number. The picture on the left is the flyer for where I'll be Friday night. My old friend Jeremy (and ex boyfriend, circa 1996) will be spinning some techno.

3. I'm on the LLL hotline this week. How do I know? I just got a phone call. But it wasn't the usual Day 5 Panic phone call, it was from a woman at a methadone clinic wondering if LLL is a safe place to refer these women, if they would recieve any judgement, etc.

I said I had no experience with methadone and breastfeeding, but I would read up on it so I could be a valuable resource for them. She started talking about how there's less withdrawal symptoms for the baby, and she took down my address and is sending me some recent research. When I get what she's sending me, I'll do a post summarizing what I've learned, so we can all learn about methadone and breastfeeding.

By the end of the conversation, I had decided to do a book drive for her clinic. I'll be announcing it at the next LLL meeting that I lead, I'll be telling all my friends, and I'm telling you. If you have any books you'd like to donate to a library for new mothers getting back on their feet after heroin addiction, email me and I'll tell you wehere to send em.

Seriously, they have about three books, and one of them is What To Expect. They really need our help!

I'm even boring myself

I've decided to stay on typepad. The move would be such a pain in the ass, and I realized that I can just start a new blog under the wetfeet domain and password protect that one. When I post I can just link back to it here. Or not. Or whatever. We'll all figure it out. We'll manage.

In other words I've decided to stay where I am. You know when you realize that your fussing with the details when the big picture gets ignored? I know there's a more clever way to put that, but i can't think of it right now, the Windex has gone into my brain. But anyway. Fixing up the blog woulnd't fix my lack of direction and drive. Like putting icing on mud. It may look prettier, more snazzy and slick, but it's still mud.

I'm adding a tip jar, though. There goes the last of my pride. And probably a cafepress store too, in time for Christmas, so I can sell one, maybe two t-shirts. In addition to the "gentlemen prefer blondes" one, I want one that says "I look better on myspace" for the days when I look like I've been run over by a truck but my profile pic still rocks.

Anyway, the tip jar. I don't want it to be like I expect people to pay me for what I do here. But I want there to be an avenue for someone who has the urge to be generous to be able to do so.

I blog because I love writing and I love having people who read even my crappiest stuff. I've already been paid. But, y'know, single moms sometimes need money. And if someone wants to give me money, I'm going to make it easy for them. I'd love for blogging to be my job, but unfortunatly there are just too many of us for that to be viable. Writing is cheap on the interwebs.

My next order of business is to stir up some controversy because it's so fricken boring around here. Plus, my hits are in the cellar. My star, it is a fallin'. My statcounter cries.

queching up

1. Judging from my inbox, you need a stern warning about the Quechup scam. This is from an email I received from a friend* a few weeks ago:

"During the registration process, the site asked me if I'd like to see if anyone in my address book was already a member. Stupidly, I said it could go ahead.

Little did I know, the damned thing spammed every single contact I had, from work associates, to friends, to relatives, to even people I don't recall ever meeting. Every single one of them received an invite supposedly from me to join this service.

Now - at 8:50 p.m. at night - I find myself sending apology notes and warnings to the near 1,000 individuals I have in my address book. Very professional looking. Very smooth.

Anyway, if you're one of the people who supposedly received one of these "invitations," do NOT accept it. Delete it. I don't advise that you do any business with these people at all, and finally I am truly sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused for you."

Okay? Okay. Onward.

*This friend of mine didn't actually write that bit (or fall for the Quechup thing), he quoted it from "a random blog". Since he didn't credit the writer, I am aware that I am reprinting without permission. Some digging turned up this site. Yay google!

2. Tomorrow morning the girls leave for a week vacation in California. No, I am not going. I am going to stay home and freak out, keep myself busy by getting a job, continue to freak out, party till I can't think anymore (which will be my only reprieve from freaking out), relive every bad mothering moment of the past six months, clean out my house while listing all the reasons I deserve to lose them in a plane crash, or a car crash, or a freak ocean accident. It's going to be an exhausting week. But, hey, I'll get to sleep as much as I want. Oh, and I plan to knit some hats. And read. And sleep. Did I mention sleep? And write. Hey, I may post more than twice next week.

*NOTE TO CALIFORNIA FOLK* Miriam is very attracted to water!!! And needs to be watched every moment while there is body of water nearby!! She will hurl herself into a pool without a second thought!! She is without fear!! I told this to Josh but I don't know if he heard me!! Please take heed!!And, um, hi! by the way. I've heard that you've read my blog. Sorry I'm so shitty about returning phone calls. Being terrified is no excuse for such rudeness.

3. The new blog is coming along-it actually has a name! and a spot on wordpress!- and I was thinking, if anyone has anything they'd like to post on there that they don't want to post on their own blog, or if anyone here doesn't have their own blog but feels like doing some blogging every now and then, I am taking on begging for some guest bloggers.

I realize that one of the areas that I really suck as a blogger is keeping my content current, and maybe guest bloggers-maybe two a week?-would keeping things moving even when I am experiencing my periods of self-indulgent artistic flux.

My single mom friend (who wants to think of her very own fake name) has already agreed to do some guest spots. She's a poet and a teacher. She teaches in Philadelphia's inner city public schools, elementery school science, and her perspective is mature and valuable. Just the other night she read me a poem she wrote about a fight that erupted in her classroom.

4. I also want to make a t-shirt: "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes [in fancy script], Real Men Love Feminists" [in bold, square letters]. Not an original sentimnet, for sure, but I still want to wear it on a t-shirt.