Monthly Archives: April 2006

Proof that I look like Niels Bohr

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Rockstar Mommy linked to this thing called MyHeritage Face Recognition. What an entertaining idea: You upload your picture to find visual matches for your face from a bank of celebrity possibilities.

I uploaded two, for variety: b and e, as seen below. I got, in return:

  • a. Liv Tyler say what?
  • c. Jennifer Garner (shah!)
  • d. Niels Bohr hrrmph
  • f. David Fucking Schwimmer
  • g. Sean Astin as a hobbit
  • i. Edith Piaf. (who?)

I added h., Harry Shearer, to prove my earlier point.

celebrity face mishmash

Physical conclusions

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  1. Owen had his 15-month well-child appointment today. He’s 31” tall and almost  22 and a half pounds. He’s got an astounding vocabulary [now including “shoes,” “dinosaur,” and “nose”] and is well on his way to understanding the mechanics of fork usage.
  2. If I were a man I think I’d look like Harry Shearer circa Spinal Tap.

I need a meme, or something.

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Two disparate topics about which I considered creating complete and individual entries, but in laziness chose instead to combine into one superlame conglomerate post that doesn’t make any sense:

  1. Wanting a dog the way some women want babies, with a yearning, aching need. I mean, I do yearn and ache for more kids, and I think Owen kicks major infant toddler ass, don’t get me wrong — but right now I am yearning for a dog. A dog! Imagine the joy! He’d bark and sit and fetch and eat kibble and pee on the rug! a dog! I could pet him and brush him and give him a witty, faux-regal name and a corresponding vomitous nickname! Mister Farley Von Snugglesworth, Snuggsy for short! A dog! We’d get a vet and buy a leash and stock up on worm pills! A dog, oh to have a dog!
  2. The first concert I ever went to was Rage Against The Machine, Cobo Arena, Detroit, 1997. It was pretty cool. Half a dozen of the Churchills Gang, including me, squeezed into Ben’s ‘84 Chevy Nova and put-putted up I-75 to see the head-banging righteousness of Zac and the rest of the Rage. I got a kickass poster, the image of which I cannot seem to find on Google, and then we drove home, the end. I am also remembering other concerts I have seen, and that list shamefully, embarrassingly includes: The Verve Pipe, Moby, Bush, Barenaked Ladies, Squirrel Nut Zippers, the Lilith Fair thing, and Earth Wind and Fire [let’s hear it for municipal concert series!]. Also, can you tell precisely what year I stopped attending live shows? I bet you can!

And … that’s it? That’s all I got? One, two, buckle your shoe, this entry smells like poo.

I’m all in the mood to blog, and that’s the best I come up with? Shameful. It’s like, I put my cozy blogging sweater on, and my trusty nerd cap, and I got out my inkwell and blotter and quill, and I’m up here in the garrett with fucking writer’s block. WTF, writer’s block! Nerd cap, do your business! Make some words!

p.s. atomictonic ladies don’t have to answer, but the rest of you: What was your first concert? Was it better or worse than Earth Wind and Fire?

Back in black

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Crazy delicious new theme, courtesy of the uber-talented Derek Punsalan. I just want to eat it up, or maybe plant it in the backyard.

How I spent my internet vacation:

  • Sleeping
  • Making myself a dang quesadilla
  • Going to the zoo (see the Flickr set)
  • Hiring our first baby sitter ever. She only had one facial piercing and was sweet as pie.
  • Going on the first date Iain and I have had in over 365 days.
  • Watching television and perusing the J.Crew catalogue.

I now have a very close relationship with several members of Verizon tech support as well as a new, functional modem and detailed knowledge of the inner workings of life in a big house full of models and Tyra Banks.

I’ve missed you all, but to be frank, it was kind of nice to have the pressure off.

Anyway, enjoy the whimsical, fancy-pants new environs for Supafine and rest assured I’ll start posting more often than once a fortnight.

A little Owen action before I go

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  • He walked out of day care for the first time yesterday. It broke my heart, y’all. Every day until that point it was me hoisting him to my hip and throwing the diaper bag over my shoulder. But yesterday … yesterday he simply held my hand and walked out. Crushed my heart, a little.
  • The vacuum obsession is intensifying. At least three times a day we walk to the closet and say “hi” to the “vac.” Er, “bac,” as he calls it. Hi! Hi! Hi! Then we shut the door and stand there saying Bye! Bye! Bye! Bac go night-night! Night-night, Bac! Rinse repeat an hour later. It is just so WEIRD. Cute, but weird.
  • Holy crap, he’s got words. Truck, car, vac, juice, book, bird, squirrel, dog, duck, bath, belly, button, booty, more, done, broom, outside, no, and I swear he said “yes” yesterday. And Iain swears he said “dinosaur” once.

There’s just so much stuff; he does something new every day. I can’t even catch up. But the fact that he’s got such a personality, such likes and dislikes and interests of his own — yeah, it’s a little disconcerting, but it’s definitely cool. He’s like a Polaroid, slowly coming into focus. Shake it, little Owen, shake it.