fat and happy.

my chunky chinaman adjusting to life in the dirty south; i think it agrees with him:

air-drying, 

skyping,

sunbathing,

merry-making (i can't believe i'm putting this up after knocking scarlett for her singing talents),

and if dad gets home at a reasonable hour, some light excel-modeling.

more help for the socially retarded.

maybe some of you remember this post.  welp, here's another tipping question: what about the bag boy?  the one who helps you out to your  car?  i'm sure most of you are perfectly capable adults and have never needed to asked for help out, but this suburban motherhood gig is a little new to me, and i feel accomplished if i get out of my pajamas by 8 PM.  

i had just purchased my weight 10x over in foodstuffs and had fox, et al. in tow, so when the checker asked if i'd like help out with my groceries, i thought about it and said, why yes, i think i will. i could tell that they don't often get that response because the checker was taken aback and had to call someone over the intercom to come shuttle my business. "attention, there's an able-bodied woman up here who says she needs help..."

so while i hauled my boy and his accessories, the nice yet awkward emo kid pushed my cart and loaded up the civ.  i panicked for a second... should i tip?  maybe i'm a little over-sensitive to the subject these days--you don't tip anywhere in hong kong, but i thought it would be better to err on the side of caution.  as he finished up i thanked him and gave him $2.  shocked, he thanked me.  even if helping scrubby suburban mommies to their vans is in his job description, i don't feel too badly that i tipped the poor kid.  i was grateful for his help, and it only set me back a cheeseburger's worth.  but for future reference, what say you?

record deals are the new black.

simply stated, i am of the mind that you shouldn't be making records unless you can sing.  who's with me?  newsflash young hollywood: just because you're rich, attractive and occasionally grace the silver screen does not mean you automatically have a talent for crooning.  if you weren't who you are, there's no way in this life or the one to come that anyone would be offering you record deals with those pipes.  but guess what?  it's perfectly okay that you can't sing.  me neither!  by all means, feel free to work on your craft in the privacy of your car, the shower, or at the karaoke bar--i do; but don't insult my intelligence by trying to sell it to me.  no amount of lipstick-and-rouge computer magic will help that track of yours to sound any better than a wounded cat in heat.  it's like you just woke up one day and said, "i'm bored.  maybe i'll make an album today."

i'm a bit saddened by the most recent starlet-wannabe-popstar victim, scarlett johansson.  she's not your typical lindsay/paris party girl... she does woody allen films for crying out loud.  scarlett, i thought you were the kind of girl who knew when to say when.

let's hear it for nerve damage!

i've got a raging case of carpal tunnel. haven't been able to feel my fingertips since fox started developing rolls on his back, but i can't completely blame it on my husky chief and his entourage. i'm sure my years of drawing, typing, and guitar-heroing lobbed the ball right over the plate, and fox just smacked it out of the park. i purchased this fetching wrist brace cos i didn't know what else to do. i can't do a dang thing when it's on, so i only wear it to bed, like on the third thursday of every month. i don't want to go to the doctor cos i don't want him to tell me i need surgery. anyone got any home remedies?

the big, delicious apple.

to greta and rosie: how did you ever leave? after having lived in nyc, anything else has got to be a serious let down. granted, it's probably much different living there rather than visiting for a weekend, but still. just curious.

that said, we had a fabulous weekend. a pretty high bar was set for subsequent mother's days. i love you matt and fox; good luck with next year. we stayed on the 51st floor at the W hotel in time's square and hobnobbed with some pretty serious stars, like this guy:

georg listing, bassist for the biggest rock act to ever come out of deutschland, "tokio hotel." there's your random trivia for the day, and don't ask me how i know this cos it's embarrassing and i'll never tell. what a dreamboat though, eh ladies? yep, all 5' 2" of him. he shared an elevator ride with us, and i eavesdropped on his conversation with what little german skills i still possess. and that was our brush with fame for the weekend. i feel hugely satisfied.

fox is a good sport.

besides georg, we saw some artwork at the met, wandered through central park and the upper east side, ate, explored a street festival in east village, went to church in the bronx, ate, took advantage of the grungy new york subway, breastfed in a taxi, and ate. now, some people have lists of things to do before they die; i have lists of places i want to eat at before i die. if you're not a fellow foodie, you can stop reading.

if you're ever in new york, please consider the following:

frank restaurant. www.frankrestaurant.com. homemade italian in east village. tiny little place with a lot of character, and the pasta is insanely fresh. i had some killer gnocchi, and we were serenaded by the sounds of a gospel choir practicing up the street. very cool.

sarita's macaroni and cheese, or s'mac. www.smacnyc.com. i have to thank the lovely lindsay southwick for the heads up on this one. personally, i think if you don't like macaroni and cheese, you should have to relinquish your american citizenship. and the dudes at s'mac take mac 'n' cheese to new and exciting levels. i had the garden lite nosh, but don't be fooled, there was nothin' lite about it, and i refuse to feel guilty. i love the breastfeeding caloric burn.

pinkberry. www.pinkberry.com. it's not unique to new york, but still a great place for a decent froyo. it's no senate froyo, for those who are in the know, but still worth a go-around.

rice to riches. www.ricetoriches.com. nothing but rice pudding. HELLO! probably my favorite part of the weekend. i stood there staring slack-jawed at all the wonderful flavors they had to offer. we ordered three kinds, just to be safe. in-credible. i highly reommend the cinnamon sling with raisins. but the best part? they ship overnight to anywhere in the united states. have mercy.

sarahbeth's. www.sarahbethscps.com. mother's day brunch on central park south. best apple cinnamon french toast i will probably ever had the pleasure to have met.

max brenner, chocolate by the bald man. www.maxbrenner.com. we went to the location near union square where they also serve real food, not just chocolate (although i oft times consider chocolate a meal in itself). the pulled pork crepe was really quite good, but i don't have a dessert recommendation. they serve chocolate everything: beverages, cakes, ice creams, fondues, waffles, sundaes, you name it. how could you go wrong? i'll be back.

i love this city.

i'll have a steak, medium rare.

the proof is kinda fuzzy here, but old man rivers is sprouting a tooth already.  won't be surprised to see his first tuft of chest hair at age 3.

off my chest.

1. www.hulu.com. my new favorite website.

2. babies are people too. i got the stink eye and a snide comment when fox and i boarded our flight from nyc to dallas this last weekend. you know what all you haters? don't judge. you were once 2 months old. and how do you know that the 52-year-old passenger seated next to you won't have some serious personal hygiene problem? you should be so lucky to sit next to us, cos fox was an angel. the woman seated next to us wanted to give him a gold star.

3. indiana jones. when i was a little girl i used to pretend that i was the love child of indy and that lounge singer andi from temple of doom, and i'd get stuck in burning planes or runaway tanks and he'd save me. totally excited for this next adventure.  who's with me?

4. the other day i remembered how much i love that one-hit-wonder 80's song "break my stride" by matthew wilder, so i youtubed it, and i'll be jiggered. i had always envisioned this dude to be some michael jackson look-alike (or more frankly stated, black), not one of the mario brothers.  and i have to wonder if any of these back-up dancers regret their decision to participate in this performance.

everything's bigger in texas.

the picture from my previous post was from zimbabwe; this one is from my apartment window in irving. i dare say the view we had in hk was slightly better; what say you? i usually hate spiders, but in this case she appears to be the lesser of two evils.

afternoon delight.

i thought i was the only person here at the apartment complex during the day, but here it is, 2:30 PM, and my upstairs neighbor is cranking "smooth operator" by sade. a little early in the day for soulful r&b, don't you think?

welcome to the jungle.

are we back in africa??

i really like our new apartment. it's definitely an upgrade from the kitchen-less pillbox in the sky we called home in hong kong (my new appliances are totally righteous); however, we keep getting a lot of unwanted visitors. one of the first things matt told me upon my arrival at our new home last week was not to worry about the big garden spiders. um, right. then the other night when fox woke up for a feed, i noticed a big black beetle-like dude (i refuse to believe it was a cockroach) chillin' on my nightstand. five minutes later, a small spider wanted in on the breastmilk and dropped in on one of its threads. last night a freakishly large swarm of blood-sucking mosquitos was hovering over my patio (which, incidentally, is the only place in our apartment where i get cellphone service). that was one breed of vermin i was hoping to escape from our last texas apartment, but it looks like our problem just got exponentially bigger. whenever i see mosquitos, my hypochondriatic sirens start wailing. and finally, it looks like one of charlotte's daughters has set up shop in my window -- big ol' nasty black spider with a web to boot. i fully expect the web to sprout a "some pig" at any minute.

while telling some friends of our invasion, they informed us that our apartment complex is camped on top of an old swamp bed from the dirty trinity river. super. so it looks like we are the unwanted visitors.

excuse me, have you seen a waistline? i seem to have lost mine.

fox eats his feelings.

he takes after his great-grandpa talmage, who coined the phrase, "i just don't feel good until i'm uncomfortably full."