Tag Archives: cloudmakers

A Wee something special…

So, yeah. This is totally happening. Due May 23, 2012. Everything (praises upon praises!) is going smoothly and my doctor gave us the okay yesterday to finally exhale. So now I’m exhaling all over the place.

Two lines!!
Yep. That’s a photo of a pee-covered stick. It makes you go AWWWW and EWWWW simultaneously.

Daniel and I have spent this time bouncing the gamut between, “OMG. We’re having a baby.” and “OMG! We’re having a baby!” Which is to say the shock of it actually happening is finally starting to wear off (it’s actually not as easy to get knocked up as countless teenage horror stories would have you believe) and we’re getting the planning in motion. Also, there’s been a lot of talking and singing to the my (quickly expanding) belly, which is pretty sweet.

Myself, I’ve spent this entire trimester feeling all the punishments you’d normally encounter after one-too-many vodka tonics. Nausea, headache, bloating, weird taste in my mouth and the overwhelming desire to crawl back in bed and sleep it off. I considered changing the name of this blog from inkandvodka.com to lowgradehangover.com but I figured it would make me the scourge of mommy bloggers everywhere so I didn’t. It hasn’t been that bad, but I’ve be lying if I said I didn’t have a few NOTHING FITS ME closet meltdowns tempered with a whole lot of MUST EAT NOW moments. (Connected, those two.)

So yes, there’s a little baby bean quickly growing inside me. And from the looks of the ultrasound yesterday, it’s an active baby, drumming the air like its grandfather and dancing around like it’s still onstage at ACL. I’m excited, y’all. We’re starting a family and there’s nothing, nothing at all, quite like this feeling.


The humanizing of idols.

I had a discussion with a new friend of mine last weekend. It started off harmless and ended up explosive, as I said things that weren’t taken how I meant them to be and he said things very loudly and defensively. I hit a nerve, I guess. Or I touched on a raw issue. Whatever it was, it was ugly, and it ended with me feeling as if I misjudged the situation and took a liberty with our new friendship that I shouldn’t have. And feeling, with a certainty, that this happened too soon to take back.

Not that I would. See, I mulled this around and around for a week in my mind. Replayed it to see if I would react/question the topic differently if it were anyone else (No.); if the questions were addressed to me about touchy topics in my life (No.); and if I felt the reaction fit the conversation. (No.)

I thought about reaching out to apologize, but decided that I still don’t feel like I have anything to say I’m sorry for. I wasn’t judging, even though that was the contention accused of me. I was asking questions that came from an honest place, in a space that I felt I had the freedom to.

Maybe my fault was asking someone to hold up under the weight of my expectations and idealisms when they never asked for that task. That’s not really fair, is it? That’s not even a question. That’s too heavy a burden to carry, especially for unwitting heroes.

Which brings me to humanizing idols. When you meet the people who blow you away —people you idolize for their work, their art, their insights — how close of a friendship, if offered, is worth risking? How do you blur your vision of them again when the idol part gives way to ugliness of humanity? Where do you find the respect to see them again as teachers and leaders?

Is befriending your heroes ever worth the sadness of watching them fall?

Brave New Me

I’ve spent a lot of time in headphones lately. There’s nothing like a sound chamber to tune out the every day and heighten … every thing else, really.

I know I posted this practically everywhere already, but right now it’s my favorite piece of transient art.

Someone tagged it on the back stairwell at work. I stumbled across it on accident (I use this spot to get some warmth outside when it’s too cold indoors) and have been sitting vigil with it daily. I don’t often get all !!!!! about scrawled tags on the side of buildings, but this one is hitting a chord with me.


I’m on self-imposed house arrest this weekend. This ridiculously! beautiful! weekend! so I can Spring Clean and social-media strategize until my floors are clean and my presentations primed.

What I would love to be doing, of course, is sleeping in, baking and having a Doctor Who marathon.

I mean … come on!

Hmm … okay I see how the initial “I want to be outsiiiiiiiide!” got completely eclipsed by the Tenth Doctor, but when stumbling across videos like this, it can’t be helped.

/12-year-old fangirl


Editing this to say that since posting this, I’ve rewatched this ridiculous Doctor Who video more than I want to admit and EACH TIME I remember why Matt Smith will never be David Tennant *while also* reminding myself that women my age shouldn’t fangirl like this but a least it’s not fucking TWILIGHT.


So I’m playing this game called Majestic — ever heard of it?

It’s supposed to be this conspiracy theorist’s wet dream — completely interactive through instant messenger and emails and phone calls.

The phone calls are the best.

When I signed up for it (the demo — it’s free, btw) I figured it would be a lot like The Game — the movie with Michael Douglas. But now that I’ve gone through the whole “Who Killed Evan Chan?” A.I. game, I figure it’s going to be a lot like this one.

I’m excited — I’m a dork — but this is a blast so far!

There’s nothing worse than the smell of fried bologna…

Except for maybe a post that says nothing.

I’m having an incredible day — much like yesterday — hopefully much like tomorrow.

Yep — I found me some joy folks. Call off the dogs.


My boss is out of town so it’s me me me slack city. Love. It.

I’ve spent the latter part of the day on Cloudmakers.org trying to keep up with posts documenting a zillion calls to an actor in NY playing the part of a half machine half human ex-football hero guarding the statue of liberty while 2 bad guys were “taking apart” Red King. Searching for clues. I don’t think the question is even “Who Killed Even Chan” anymore.

Nanites, baby.

Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday,Saturday,Saturday,Saturday…

Amazing how that can get you a Chart Topping Song.

It’s Saturday and I feel like a normal human again.

Question — if you could implant a chip inside you to make you see, think, hear clearer —- would you?

I would. At least, I think I would.

It’s not fair that we don’t have a way to put machine parts in us like tattoos and piercings.

Maybe I’ve spent too much time on Cloudmakers.org.

Maybe I’m just tired of these human parts wearing out so easily.

Ah well.

Poker night tonight — I’m off to Wally world for the table.

Big scary Wally world. I bet I hear a minimum of 9 screaming kids while I’m there. Anyone care to wager?