Meet Eddie

If it doesn’t look like one, is it still a minivan?

The Mazda 5. Or, as I call him, Eddie. Why? Well, follow the bouncing brain of Bedhead and you shall see.

Because it really doesn’t look like a minivan. And the car websites call it a microvan. Which makes me think of these:

Which then make me think of these:

And those always make me think of him:
And that’s always a good thing.

Bullets Over Bedhead

Stuff I need to write posts about, in no particular order:

  • Bruce Springsteen and the bookends.
  • Emma Thompson and how much I love her. Because I do. Love her. Especially after this comment.
  • The play I went to the other day and what constitutes private and where to draw the line.
  • The women I saw the play with and the hysterical round-about of conversation we had over falafel and diet sodas. At a brew pub. And the raspberry fleece jackets.
  • The Trinity Rep theatre and how fucking gorgeous it is and how come I didn’t discover it until I moved almost 2 hours away.
  • A conversation with a friend, who discussed her boyfriend and his body image issues and how every word she used to describe him I could use to describe myself. And how weird that made me feel.
  • The fact that I have *gulp* bought a mini-van. And how any little smidgen of a modicum of a soupcon of cool that I ever had is now blown all to hell.

A Wreck On The Highway

Driving home on the highway from Providence tonight, after spending the day with three very cool, very funny women. I was smiling, remembering our laughter-laced conversation over dinner when I saw, on the crest of the hill, a police car, lights flashing. Great, I thought, he’s got someone pulled over.

Then I realized the police car was in the median. And traffic was slowing down. Way down.

Last night I was out driving
Coming home at the end of the working day
I was riding alone through the drizzling rain
On a deserted stretch of a county two-lane
When I came upon a wreck on the highway

I saw snow on the highway, like it had been tossed there by kids having a snowball fight. A crumpled guardrail. An ambulance, lights whirling red-white, red-white.

A small red car, crumpled. A slightly larger blue car, in the median. Sideways. More police cars.

There was blood and glass all over
And there was nobody there but me
As the rain tumbled down hard and cold
I seen a young man lying by the side of the road
He cried Mister, won’t you help me please

People and cars, huddled together, against the guardrail. A paramedic, hunched over the passenger side of the blue car.

A gurney. In the road. On it, a white sheet, covering a body.

In an instant, someone was gone.

An ambulance finally came and took him to Riverside
I watched as they drove him away
And I thought of a girlfriend or a young wife
And a state trooper knocking in the middle of the night
To say your baby died in a wreck on the highway

Maybe someone’s wife or mother.

Maybe someone’s father or husband.

A brother, a sister, a cousin. A friend.





Sometimes I sit up in the darkness
And I watch my baby as she sleeps
Then I climb in bed and I hold her tight
I just lay there awake in the middle of the night
Thinking ’bout the wreck on the highway

In Which I Beg For Advice

About 16 months ago, my hair looked like this:

Cute, kind of flippy, but a pain in the ass to do, even to get that little bit of out flip on it. I’m taking 45 minutes with a round brush. I do not have that kind of time, even if I did have the inclination. Which I don’t.

And I haven’t had a hair cut since then. And now it sort of looks like this:

(Only longer. And minus the beard.)

And I think I’d like it to look sort of like this:

What do you think? I’m worried that the bangs might get in the way of the glasses (which are an almost-black tortoise type now – very librarian). And I’m worried that I don’t have the cheekbones to pull it off.

I hate hair. I obsess over my hair almost as much as I obsess over my body.

And can I just add, I have such a girl crush on Dawn French. I luuuuuuuuurve her and it pisses me off to no end that the stupid PBS station out here Westa Wistah doesn’t show The Vicar of Dibley.

And while I’m begging for help, I need some serious hand cream help. I have tried just about everything. Aveeno, Eucerin, Aquaphor, Vaseline (straight and in lotion form), Shea Butter, and some expensive shit by Shikai called Borage. Nothing worked. My hands are so dry that they peel and bleed. I’m allergic to lanolin which leaves out a lot of lotions (like Udderly Smooth, which my mother swears by) and I don’t want anything too scented because those can affect my skin too. I put lotion on my hands constantly. I need to get gloves, I suppose, for when I wash the dishes, because I’m sure that doesn’t help. But I need a good, heavy duty lotion. Any ideas?

And it other news, this is, quite possibly, the coolest staircase ever and I want one.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

Do you read Kevin Charnas? If not, why not? He has a great blog. It veers from the sublime to the just plain silly. This? Would be the latter. Do not drink beverages while watching this video. You have been warned.


I have a new post up over at dLife on a topic I have pretty strong feelings about. Go check it out. If you’re not outraged, you’re not breathing.

Does Keith Olbermann…

…read my blog?

Ok, so I’m not so vain to think that he does, but it was surreal to watch his special comment last night and hear him say practically the same thing I wrote last week.

That whole comment by Bush, threatening to stay home rather than go on a planned trip to Africa sounded so much like “If you don’t behave, I’ll turn this car around right now!” How many times can he pull that terror threat?

Now This Is A Giveaway

ModMom is having a huuuuuuuuuge giveaway. Take a look.

enter my fabulous valentine’s giveaways worth $3500+
whole foods :: $100 gift card +3 heart gift baskets $250
tots-on-the-go :: 1 inline stroller with doubles kit $700+
kideko :: 1 mod luxury bedding set $260
blurb :: 10 publish-your-own professional books $300
global exchange :: 11 organic fair trade chocolates $250
itzbeen :: 6 digital baby care data trackers $150+
divvies :: 10 dozen vegan cupcakes $240
green works :: 12 green cleaners gift baskets $300
barefoot books :: 12 eco books/cd + 1 grand prize $240
roxio :: 10 mac digital burning software suites $1,000

You can go sign up, too.

A Question For The Experts

I have a post up over at New England Mamas, in which I piss and moan about the commercialism that is Valentine’s Day.

In other news:

That Canadian Boy I Married (TCBIM) has been working for the same small company for two years now. There are about 8 employees, including the boss. The boss belongs to an uber-Christian church – I don’t know what denomination, if any – and several of the employees also belong. Others, like TCBIM, are quite happy in their godless heathenism.

Ever since he started working there, he’s felt a slight favouritism towards the employees who are church members. Mostly he was able to brush it off and it didn’t impact his job that much. The last few months, though, he’s felt a distinct coldness directed at him by the boss. He tried speaking to his boss about it, but that man is one who avoids communication and confrontation at all costs. So TCBIM decided the time was right to start looking for a new job. No rush, he didn’t feel as though he was going to get fired or anything, he just felt like things were a little off kilter and wanted to work for a company that had better management/employee communications.

He interviewed at a company based about 40 minutes from here. Because he’s in sales, he can work from home a lot, so this was OK. Plus the company is offering $10K more a year in base salary and another percentage point in commission. They also said they’d provide him with a vehicle and a gas card. Yippee! He was still waffling about taking the job when he got a phone call at work the other day.

The phone call was from a financial institution that manages IRAs. They had questions about the IRA accounts for three employees plus the boss. Questions about the money the company was contributing to these IRAs. The little alarm bells started going off in TCBIM’s head.

At no time was he given any information about any kind of retirement plan – in fact, he asked about it and was told that the company didn’t do anything like that. To suddenly find out that yes, they do do that, but only, apparently, for fellow church members, was the nail in the coffin. He’s taking the new job.

Is this legal? I thought if a benefit was offered, it had to be offered to all employees. Does anyone know the deal on that? Not that he’s going to do anything about it since he’s taking another job, but I do think he’s going to mention it in his exit interview.


…these stupid internet quizzes are scarily accurate.

Maybe it’s just because I’m so fucking tired all the time and the thought of being able to sleep late (ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!) is like a siren call to me. Maybe because I’ve developed a serious caffeine addiction due to this whole lack of sleep bullshit. Maybe because the idea of snuggling back into the covers is just. so. appealing. right now. Maybe because I’ve started to dream about huge expanses of bed, covered in white sheets, white duvets, white, downy pillows and billowing white bed curtains (it’s like a cross between the Pottery Barn catalog and Remains Of The Day) and a soft-footed maid to bring me tea and the Sunday New York Times. That last fantasy has replaced Johnny Depp AND George Clooney as my lust du jour. That’s how tired I am, people.

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