multiple choice.

the laundromat.  you are here doing your laundry, of course.  five minutes left on your dryer.  to your left stands a man, staring at his load of laundry (also drying).  he proceeds to take out of his pocket a small video camera and begins to video tape his personal effects being tossed around in the machine.  this makes you slightly uncomfortable, but things really start to get interesting when the man starts whistling, "if i only had a brain," from the wizard of oz, wrapping up the performance with a simple jig.

you:

A.  applaud.

B.  ignore him.

C.  pretend to be completely engrossed in your book, but secretly and cautiously watch him out of the corner of your eye.

D.  quickly run your hand through your bag to make sure you brought the mace.

E.  run.

stop-motion movies are righteous.

thanks, audrey, for sending this to me.  this little film is my new favorite thing.

my dear friend sara and i once made an animation film for a school project.  it was a lot of work, but it was so cool and rewarding once it was completed.  and wouldn't you know, i don't think either of us kept a copy of the film.  sara, if you ever read this, what happened to that thing?  i have a feeling it was swallowed up by the inner-bowels of crowthey's lair.  sad.  

on this day, one year ago...

you were born.

did i tell  you how you refused to come out?  when time came for birthin', you were not interested.  so as to expedite the process, i hiked around and down a mountain, then walked up 20 flights of stairs.

nothing.

it was cute at first, this clinging to the womb bit, but your apathy towards birth started to get old when your estimated weight approached nine pounds.  the doctor decided to make it uncomfortable for you in there by draining you out.  didn't take long after that.

you were big and blond.  you had funny long hairs on the right side of your head.  your hands were, as one doctor put it, like saint bernard paws.  your toesies were long.  when the doctor broke my/your (our?) water, he accidentally scraped your little head, which actually turned out to be helpful... if we lost you in a nursery full of black-haired, five pound chinese babies, all we'd have to do was look for the guy with the lacerated scalp.

did i tell you how happy you made me?  how happy you make me?  everyday?

oh how i love you, sweet little eggroll boy.

happy birthday, chief.

photo by kathryn whiting

wise old soul.

it was just one of those days, and my tears hit hard and fast.  neither fox nor i saw them coming.

this picture may mislead you.  rearranging books doesn't phase me in the slightest and did not trigger said meltdown.  this happens everyday at 9:00 AM, 1:00 PM, and sometimes 5:00 PM... you can almost set your watch by it.  instead, this picture portrays almost exactly the state foxman was in when he realized i was losing it: half-clothed, re-cataloging our church literature, pausing from his work to study the strange noises coming from his mother.

he stared at me.

i waved through my tears and told him hello.

he stared at me.

i sobbed.

then i watched out of the corner of my eye as he abandoned his project and crawled towards me.

he climbed into my lap, wrapped his short, pudgy arms around my neck and squeezed.

more tears.

more sobbing.

more of this, please.

close encounters with famous people, no. 1:

i'm banking on the hope that i see famous people while i live here in new york and taking the risk that this kind of thing may make me look extremely shallow and pathetic. if i don't run into the cast of "gossip girl" or "the city" really soon, this may the first and last post of its kind.

jimmy fallon.

a good place to start (i've decided to not count the disputed bernie madoff sighting... feels like i'd be starting things off on the wrong foot).

the encounter:

last night, amidst great company, matthew and i went to a test taping of jim's new show.  my fallon fanhood increased sevenfold, and i eagerly anticipate the show's debut in march.

bonus:

jim and i touched hands. the magic was palpable.

encounter rating:

4/5 stars.

jiggity jig.

my brother-in-law, kit, hipped me to one of the most recent "where the hell is matt?" videos.  i'm sure many of you have seen matt in action before, but as i watched this tonight, my heart started to feel things and i almost shed a tear.  i guess it made me realize that we silly humans have far more in common than we realize.  i think it's simple moments like these when The Man Upstairs looks downward at us all and smiles.

and i hope my husband's teammates don't see this next clip and give him a swirly or something equally harsh, but i thought it funny that matthew, while dressed for rugby, a sport of brute-like masculinity, starts channeling a light-hearted michael flatley.

?.

i do love him and his legs in those socks. i do. xo.

the people in your neighborhood.

although my address is in manhattan, i don't wake up every morning, roll over and high five regis and kelly.  i like our neighborhood, a lot.  it quiets down at night, it feels safe, and the streets and business owners are starting to feel familiar to me.  but over the past few days i've had a few moments where i've stepped back and realized just exactly where it is that i'm living.

moment 1: just going to the local anthropologie i pass by rockefeller center and nbc studios.  

moment 2: for a sunday afternoon walk with friends, central park is just down the street.

moment 3: bernie madoff at the grocery store.  is that possible?  matt asked me if i looked for the ankle bracelet -- not exactly the first thought that came to my head... more like, is it safe to be standing this close to you, mr. madoff?

and, okay ash, i'll do it, i'll do it for you. the fourth picture from the fourth album in my picture file:

yours truly, circa 1983. chubby arms, grubby cast correcting a gimpy right foot, homemade dress... we was po' folk. i haven't done a tag post in a while for a number of reasons. one, i start the post and never finish; two, i sometimes feel like i'm trying too hard or don't have anything great to say or that people will thing i'm blagging (thanks amy for the term), then my weird social anxieties start to smolder... you get the idea. i thought since this picture happened to be the winner i'd throw it up to perhaps quell any lingering doubts that i am fox's biological mother:

bread and buttah.

chocolate chips + animal crackers = keebler elf cookies

chocolate chips + tortilla chips = trail mix

shredded wheat + skippy = crunchy peanut butter 

rice + chili sauce = stir fry

bisquick + freshly squeezed lime juice = matthew makes pancakes (matt sometimes forgets we don't live in mexico anymore where lime juice is drizzled on everything but milk)

those are just a few of the food combinations that have been floating around our place lately due to student budgetary constraints and laziness.  anybody out there have any peculiarly tasty duos?

i haven't yet had the heart to try out some of my family's artery-friendly favorites:

grandpa #1: cooked, cold hamburger + ice cream.  yes.  together.

grandpa #2: glazed doughnut + 1/3 cube of margarine.

totally normal.

it makes me more stupider.

meaty discussions regarding our nation's crumbling economy,

doctrinal insights into the purpose of man,

constructive debates on the role of government in education,

no.

expensive clothes and trendy restaurants,

beautiful trust fund kids living unrealistic lives,

der dee doo der der blah blah blahhh...

yes.

'the city' is not brain food, but i figure by not reading the vampire books i've stored up enough entertainment empty calories to burn on half-baked, pseudo-reality television programming. now, by saying what i'm about to say, i may lose the respect of some, but it's a risk i'm willing to take. whilst online browsing through UOs hip headbands, i came across a model who i strongly believe is 'the city' cast member, allie. i've consulted a few close sources, but i still have a few doubts... so tell me blogworld, what sayest thou:

mystery model.

whitney's boyfriend's bestfriend's girlfriend, allie.

(slightly embarrassed how easily that rolled off my tongue)

same girl?  pointy chin, thick brows, eyes half-way rolled back into the head... 

i'm off to read an ayn rand book (and by that i mean the biggest loser is on, and i'm weak).

l.o.v.e.

with valentine's day approaching, i thought this would be a fun and interesting quiz/waste of time. matt even did it.  we counted it as our friday night date... we are wild, right?

i'm a negotiator/explorer which means i'm intuitive, i need to have meaningful connections with people and love new experiences.

matt is an explorer/director which means he is highly independent, he doesn't tolerate boredom well and is very goal-oriented.

pretty accurate.

and if you dare, check out to see if you and your love muffin are compatible.

i think matt and i are gonna make it.

what are you?

to the dog owners of new york city:

i am now numbered among you, so i feel like i can say this with a bit of credibility:

PICK UP THE POOP.

when we first got here, this didn't seem to be a problem.  i don't know what has caused the recent onslaught of feces-pocked sidewalks, but it seems to me to be correlated with snow and ice accumulation.  well, guess what folks... we broke 40 degrees yesterday, and things are starting to melt around these parts.  do you think the turd magically evaporates with the snow and ice?  hint: rhymes with no.  and don't kid yourself -- you are not going to come back and pick it up later.  you think it's nasty now, well it's not going to freshen up after marinating there on a wet sidewalk for a day or two.  then try navigating a stroller through that veritable BM minefield.

if i catch anyone doing a dump and run, i may be forced to capture the crime on video and lovingly upload you to youtube.  you've been warned.

please and thank you.

and while we're on the subject, this this weekend's SNL clip on pampers had me rolling.  anybody?  anybody?