Spring miscellany

It's hard not to be upbeat in the middle of an Austin spring. The whole city is abloom with wildflowers and greenery, and there's a pervasive mist that blurs the edges of plants and trees, creating a sort of Middle Earth effect (though I talked to Agapito about this the other day,  and it turns out I might just need to wear my glasses. Details).

The shoe above is one of a pair I received as a gift for dissertation defense from my mom and Patrick. They are the first pair of fancy shoes I've ever owned--they are Fryes, ooh la la. And they just so happen to look extra superb against the backdrop of bluebonnets (please ignore the ugly thick cuff). Below is a photo of Agapito and me after we took pictures of the girls in the bluebonnets. 

As I've mentioned before, spring is also the time when we have to get all of our outdoor fun in, before evil hot comes. Although we've tried to go hiking in the past, I gave up after causing Agapito to have an allergic reaction at The Wild Basin trail (it's amid the notorious Cedar trees).  

So, why not make things easy and get our outdoor fun in over at Amy's Ice Cream? We met up with Gloria, who's started blogging again over at Mama Tejana, and her sweet kiddos.  The picture of Rosie and Ben kind of breaks my heart. It's so very Texas, in the best way.

Family Style SXSW

I forgot to post these sweet pics from the last Sunday of SXSW. My step-brother, Davis, played a gig at Uncle Billy's BBQ on Barton Springs. It was the perfect way for Agapito and me to experience some SXSW action with the girls--eating BBQ and drinking Shiner on a patio while listening to Davis play songs from his latest album. The older girls are huge fans, and they can even sing along to some of his songs. In addition to playing his own songs, he played a number of New Orleans R&B classics. Too fun.

Dedicated to my friends spending their spring in France

...of whom I am terribly jealous. My friends, Lars and Karen, and their sweet toddler, Naomi, are spending the spring semester in France while he teaches at a university there. He is a linguist and she is an artist. And they make a very attractive couple, and their little girl is beautiful. Really, it's just too much. I bet they'll spend part of their April in...where else...Paris.  *sob* 

I just want to remind them (and myself) of what they are missing by not being in Austin right now, dammit.

So there. And we have vineyards too! :)  See you guys in not too long, I hope!

Take this dorky journey with me.

What got me into linguistics, you ask? The history of English. Actually, it was even earlier, when I was in middle school. One day I was looking up a word in my parents American Heritage Dictionary, and I came across this genetic tree of Indo-European languages.

http://www.best-infographics.com/indo-european-family-of-languages-tree/

I think I sat pouring over that tree for a good hour. But it wasn't until my last semester as an undergrad English major that I feel in love with linguistics, while reading Baugh and Cable's A History of the English Language. So what a treat it was when a couple of my fellow word nerds posted, on FB, this awesome video of people reciting Shakespeare using the Renaissance English pronunciation they have reconstructed. Enjoy! 

Vanity post

I'm doing cartwheels today, because my dissertation revisions have been approved and even complimented. I kinda feel like this dude:

One of the theoretical chapters needs just a little spiffying to be more journal-ish, but it shouldn't take too long. And I'm working on a very fun article on dialect and socio-historical residential patterns in New Orleans. It's due today...it's gonna be a long night. Still, linguist Jess is a happy camper!

In celebration, I am sharing two non-academic beauty-related items: coral lipstick and caring for curly hair! (note: these are just personal endorsements. I get no money for them.)

1. I finally found a coral lipstick that I love. Last year I found the perfect red in the Sephora Lipstain 'Always Red.' The perfect coral has proved more elusive. Beware Pepto Bismol-Pink lips! After a couple of misses, the right coral for me turned out to be L'Oreal Colour Riche in 'Volcanic.' I like pairing it with minimalist eyes: light yellowy gold shadow all over, no eyeliner, and lots of mascara--I love Maybelline Falsies. (For what it's worth, I've got a ruddy complexion, which my friend Melissa generously calls 'English Rose.' On a bad day it's more 'Drunken WASP.')

2. I recently got directed to this excellent website on curly haircare, naturallycurly.com. If you've never visited, it can be overwhelming. Here is a link to a summary of methods. Even better, here are the tips that have radically improve my curls. I have loose curls/wavy hair that curls up with product, and relaxes into waves easily. My challenge, besides frizz, is the lack of body at the root. Too often my hair is flat on top, and drifts outward, creating an isosceles triangle head and a very sad Jess. No es bueno. So here's the new regimen:

• I wash my hair no more than 3 days a week with a sulfate-free shampoo. Sometimes I just scrub with brown sugar. Currently I'm loving Jessicurl. The maker has a really informative site, and her products are awesome and fairly priced. (Some folks use a baking soda scrub followed by an apple cider vinegar rinse, but I found my hair smelled too much like vinegar-soaked ass afterward to be down with that method.)

• I apply conditioner (either lightweight Aloeba by Jessicurl or the richer and floral-scented Honeysuckle Rose by Aubrey), leave it in while I shave or whatever, and then, here's the kicker, I rinse it out with my head upside down! That's when you can comb it or brush it downwards with a denman brush or any other plastic many-bristled brush. 

•  Add some product, either gel or curl cream, to your very wet hair with your head still upside down. Comb through.

• Plop! I lay a pillowcase on the counter or toilet seat, lower my inverted head down so that the wet hair "plops" down into the fabric, and then roll the sides around and tuck. Here's a better explanation with diagrams by the pros, if you have no idea what the hell I was just saying: plopping. 

•  After 10-15 minutes, remove fabric, fingerstyle part, add a little more product of your choice. Either air dry or diffuse. 

It's been a total game changer! Body at the root? Check. Bigger, fatter, shinier curls? Check. Let me also add that my sister totally told me to do all of this last year, but did I listen? No. I owe you a drink, Patina!

Stealthy SXSW

Given that we literally live down the street from where a lot of the SXSW action happens, I feel like a loser for rarely attending events (seeing Big Freedia at the New Orleans Sissy Bounce Show a few years ago was a glorious exception). But, the prospect of schlepping my 3 daughters downtown and seeking out decent free shows is a little daunting (as my step-brother, Sims, puts it perfectly: Somebody always has to poop). So, I cheated and got a little SXSW action in mama-style. We parked in the parking lot of Book People and Anthropologie, which is cater-cornered from Waterloo Records, where bands play non-stop through the festival. First we did a little window shopping at Anthropologie-- which I typically treat as a museum housing expensive artifacts that I really want but can't have--and then we bought some books, gummy bears, chocolates, and beverages at Book People. We took our goodies outside to the picnic table in the parking lot, from where we could hear the band playing across the street and see all the festival-goers walking about (you can see a live stream of musicians playing at Waterloo on their website). It was perfection. I also got to avoid standing around a bunch of 22-year-old hipsters trying to act all mama-chic in the Waterloo parking lot.

p.s. How about that war on women? Kind of a bummer, no? If you've had your fill of the fluffier Jezebel fare on the topic, here's a headier piece, Birth Control McCarthyism, sent to me by my friend Brian.

Cursive

http://www.etsy.com/listing/38164588/cursive-vintage-typewriter-olivetti-for

Did you know that most states have adopted a non-cursive curriculum for our kiddos? A little sad, but I see the sense in it. Cursive is intended to help one write faster. Now that most communication occurs via computers, cursive is an art rather than a necessity. Still, nothing beats the handwritten letter from an old friend. 

Maybe I will tutor my girls in penmanship. Lucero already received some instruction last year (in 2nd grade), but she hasn't done anymore. And I might as well teach them old-school cursive, given that one of my life goals is to master the art of a spidery 19th script. I found this awesome website that has all sorts of examples and practice exercises to master Spencerian penmanship, which is the classic old school handwriting American kids learned in the 19th and early 20th century.

No child steps in the same juicebar twice.

Yesterday, Agapito and I took the girls on a leisurely walk from our apartment down to Juiceland on Town Lake. Walking in urban centers is one of my top favorite activities, and if there's one thing that I like least about Austin, it's the lack of opportunity for city walking. But the day was everything that's best about spring in Austin: flowers in bloom, balmy and breezy, and a smattering of clouds to lend dimension to the sky and filter the light. 

I know, it's boring to go on about how pretty the day was. But you gotta understand, spring is very precious to Austin residents! Just as mid-westerners know that fall heralds bleak days of frigid darkness, we know that spring is the prelude to 5 months of infernal heat, blinding light, and brown dead plants that might ignite at any moment and set your house on fire. One friend likened stepping outside in an Austin summer to standing behind the exhaust pipe of a running car. Austin summers offer few options in the way of family fun: splash parks worrying about skin cancer, lakes and rivers worrying about skin cancer, walking around the mall worrying about the death of your soul, and playing Wii in your apartment having surrendered to the death of your soul. I know, it is sad. I suppose I should be putting on children's plays and reading Dickens aloud as we cozy up next to the freon-scented AC vents. 

So anyway, yesterday was a lovely spring day and we went for a lovely spring walk. It took us about 45 minutes to walk from our place to Juiceland. How far is it, you ask? Well, it probably takes about 10-15 minutes at a normal adult stroll. We took the following picture of the girls in the spot we took their picture a few years ago. Here they are.

Yesterday and a few years ago.

Baby Clingons

Sometimes spending all day with a 9-month-old is really, really boring. Take yesterday, for instance. It was gray and yucky, and we were stuck inside our tiny apartment. To make matters more claustrophobic, Mags didn't want me to put her down, like, everrrr. So not only did I not get to take a shower until 4 pm when my dearest neighbor offered to hold Baby Clingon...not only that...but also, every time I needed to use the bathroom I had to bring Mags with me and set her down on the floor a few feet from the toilet. I found that the weird factor of peeing while a baby stares at you is greatly mitigated by staring back and singing, with feeling, the chorus to "I Always Feel Like (Somebody's Watching Me)" by Rockwell.

So anyway, as I was saying, sometimes it's really boring spending all day with a solipsistic mute. But then there are sunny days, like Wednesday, when you get to spend the morning working on an article about language in New Orleans; and, having stimulated your intellect (or poked at it, at least), you get to spend the afternoon with your cute miniature humanoid, basking in the sun on your porch. And if you're lucky, she doesn't just agree to look at the phone while you take her snapshot, she actually makes these faces.

Needless to say, I spent the minutes subsequent to these pics smothering her beautiful fat cheeks with kisses.

Rosie wants me to adopt her.

The other day Lucero and Rosie were sitting at the table eating tacos with two of their friends who live in our building, who I shall call Hope and Mila. Hope is adopted, and her family is very open about it. Mila is not adopted, and I don't know how familiar she is with the concept. I was standing by the stove heating up tortillas, and I got to listen to their conversation. 

The four girls were laughing and talking, when Hope brought up the fact that she is adopted.  Lucero tells her that she, too, is adopted. From the stove, I chirp in with, "Yep, by me!" Next, Mila, who is just 6, says in the not-very-nice sing-song voice that little girls have been using since time immemorial, "I'm not a-do-opted! Hoo-ray for me-ee," ending with a final cheer, "Woohoo! Not adopted!"  So I butt in with, "Adoption is awesome! When I adopted Lucero we got a stuffed animal, and Lucero got to sit in the judge's chair and hold the gavel!" Lucero says, "Yeah!" Then she adds, "It's not our fault, she's still my mommy!" I overlap with, "Yep, it was one of the greatest days of my life." Then Mila says, "I'm glad I'm not adopted because I love my mommy." I then realized that Mila wasn't gloating about the fact that her relationship to her mom was biological--which still would have been completely understandable because after all these are kids--she was just happy that her mom hadn't given her away. I couldn't very well say that Lucero's first mom had not, in fact, given her up for adoption, but had died. Because then what about Hope, whose biological mother is still alive? So, I try to smooth things with a spiel about how families come in all shapes and sizes, and what matters is the love, etc., etc.

Just when I think we've gotten back into the safe zone, I see that Rosie is sulking, looking sort of like this:

I say, "Rosie, what's wrong with you?" And she says petulantly, "I want you to adopt me, Mommy." I started to counter with why that wouldn't be necessary, but it just wasn't the time. So, defeated, I said, "Okay, honey."

Maybe Magdalena will be the judge, and she'll sit in a chair like this:

You really can't win for trying. This incident was proof that no matter how much you ruminate on all the possible scenarios in which you will have to run interference on the topic of a blended family, you can't anticipate what kids will hone in on. I've always feared a day would come when Lucero would say, "You're not my real mommy!" or "You don't love me as much as you love Rosie and Magdalena!" Or the day that Rosie says, "Ha, ha, Lucero, I was in mommy's tummy and you weren't!" Oh, don't get me wrong, the girls already have their measuring sticks and scales, and are ever vigilante of who gets more of what, but it's just in the way that all sisters do. I can handle that. It's never about one child being more truly mine than the other. 

I know that the future has many adventures in store for us, and I also know that my daughters will manage to create excitement that all of my various contingency plans won't anticipate. In fact, remind me to tell you about Rosie's questions and conclusions about Vanessa. It's kinda beautiful and deserves its own post.