http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EMlDf_cH8Y&feature=player_embedded#!

Alice, who is turning 107 this month, is the oldest living Holocaust survivor.  Her love for people and vitality is remarkable.

Matty used his nose to nudge open the bathroom door.

“Um, dude…”

He sat there with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, and his tail wagged so hard he thumped the wall with it. He was utterly delighted to have found me.  I put down my magazine and sighed.

“Can Mommy poop in peace?”

In response, he sat down in front of me and rested his chin on my bare knee.

Mommy cannot.

Really, America?

SunChips biodegradable bags are being recalled because they’re too loud.

Come on. I’d rather have a loud bag for a few minutes than a plastic piece of trash that will gunk up the earth for a thousand years. Right? No?

Rob and I adore having overnight guests but we don’t do guest towels. I feel that if there’s a towel in our bathroom that’s not good enough for a guest, it’s certainly not good enough for our family. So, since all of our towels are identical, there are minimal used-towel hanging spots around our not-so-big apartment, and life is way too short to give any brain space to remembering which door or piece of furniture you flung your damp towel over 24 hours ago, mix-ups are easy.

This week, though, Rob came up with an awesomely simple way to mark everyone’s towels – write their name on a clothespin with a Sharpie and clip it on. Like, duh! He did it earlier this week when the Pyes were here, and it was a total “Why didn’t we think of this before?!” moment.

Plus, coming across “Dan” and “Kim” clothespins while doing the laundry is going to make me really happy for a long time.

Over the weekend I watched 2 Days in Paris, written, directed by and starring Julie Delpy, the blond above.

I’ve already been shopping for new specs, and this movie inspired me.  Between Julie’s glasses, this photo from Le Blog de Betty, and this photo that Zan posted of herself in her “new” vintage French frames, I’m thinking bigger! Darker! Fencher!

Que pensez-vous?

Apropos of nothing.

This boring tee shirt rocked my world.

1. My haircut is amazing. I called Rob walking home from the salon and lamented about dropping a good piece of change on a haircut, only to come out looking like a poodle. Once I styled it my way, though, it rocked my world.

Wahoo for my hair.

2. My necklace is also amazing. It is my new favorite thing.  (I was shooting my self-pic into a mirror – I know what way the globe goes!)

3. I went to buy new tee shirts, nothing unusual, and could not figure out what the heck was wrong with them. They fit before, and now they were… baggy and lumpy and odd. It turns out nothing is wrong with the tee shirts, and nothing is wrong with me. I’m just a size smaller.  Do you know how rad it is to buy smaller sized shirts?!

Holy cow.

Oh, it’s one of those periods where I can’t get the blogging mojo up off the ground. Here are some bits.

**

I got a new camera. It was time for an upgrade to something professional, so I got the industry standard for commercial photographers, as well as a few good lenses. It was hours of research to figure out exactly the set up I wanted, and the results have me blissed out and really excited. With the right gear in my bag, the only thing standing between me and making a decent living as a photographer is myself. Knowing this is a tremendous relief, and also a great big burden: now the only thing standing between me and making a decent living as a photographer is myself!

Ah well. Bring it on.

**

I wonder often if have something wrong with me, like Aspergers. My brother-in-law made ridiculous statement the other day, and I was all wide-eyed going “REALLY?!” while everyone else laughed at his joke. When I was about 14 I kept a list called, “Words and Phrases people use when they are being sarcastic”, and I really needed it. I don’t now, but only because I have it memorized. It’s just not something I instinctively pick up on. I also don’t do “nice for nice sake”. I say things that are honest, and then realize that they aren’t spectacularly kind, and I always want to be thought of as spectacularly kind.

**
Poor Matty’s ear infection is better. It was 10 days of squirting in a wash that made him dizzy, and then some medicine, and then at night more medicine and a pill. Now it’s just pills, which is easy since he likes anything if you glob peanut butter on it.

Clearing it up by keeping on top of his treatment was very satisfying, and I am proud.

**

I skipped blogging about Weight Watchers last week, because I was tired of thinking about it. It is exhausting to think of every single thing you put in your mouth as a matter of course. My leader said something so wonderful last week, that deserves writing down: 98% of plateaus and gains are a result of loosened efforts and are, therefore, controllable. Usually that control looks like stepping up the workouts or cutting back further on calorie intake as your body adjusts to your previous efforts. That sucks! It’s like, work hard, then work harder. But it’s the way it is.

**

Bronwen is an internet-turned-real-life friend from Australia and HER friend was visiting New York. She asked if we would meet her for dinner, so Naomi came out to Brooklyn and we ate. Then we drank, and then we had drinks in our living room until 2 am. I explained how Fahrenheit degrees work, and we both agreed it was stupid and confusing and that Celsius is superior.

We all liked each other, and Naomi promises that I can crash on her couch if I ever want to trek over to the other side of the world.

This is why I love the internet.

This morning I had this heavy metal song stuck in my head:

“Poundin’ down the walls!
Pound-in’ down-the
Poundin’ down the walls
WITH THE SLIME KINGS!”

The true beauty of it is in the singing, and if you ever get a drink or two in me, I promise to sing it for you, and with gusto.

I did not know from whence this song came, and it bothered me for a few hours until I Googled it. The Slime Kings are a fake rock band made up by Ann M. Martin, writer of the Babysitters Club books. In the book, “Claudia and the Phantom Phone Call”, the babysitters rig their stereo up to start playing loudly if an intruder broke into the house. They set the tape (awww, mid-80′s technology!) to the song “Pounding Down the Walls” by The Slime Kings.

The lyrics were never spelled out in the book, but that didn’t stop 9 year old me from trying to come up with my own version of the song. Now, years later, it was stuck in my head, a monstrosity of my own creation.

I wonder if Rob will lend his talents to recording it?

“Happy Father’s Day.”

“Thank you for making me a daddy!”

“Well, it’s nothing to do with me, it was you who ejacula… you’re welcome.”