are you sure???

dear chef 1, i know how to cook beans.

dear chef 2, i know how to cook beans.

dear chef 3, i know how to cook the shit out of some motherfucking beans now shut your trap and leave me alone so i can cook some goddamn beans.



thank you.

support veteran artwork

this blog is usually a place for me to talk about myself, my feelings, my experiences. 

today i want to talk about someone else, my brother. 

my brother cory is about a year and a half younger than me yet has had life experiences the likes of which i will never know for myself.  he is an iraqi war veteran who was divorced before i even got married.  i remember distinctly the thought occurring to me at his wedding reception that, at the time, he wasn't even old enough to legally have a drink to celebrate his nuptuals.  

he now lives across the country from his family and girlfriend. 

when my dad died in february he couldn't even make it home in time for the memorial service because he got stuck in about three feet of snow for two days. 

but he wouldn't say he's had a rough life.  his nature is to accept his past choices as part of the path that have led him to today.  he is more comfortable letting things unfold before him and listening to his instincts than anyone else i have ever known.

and just where is he today?  today he is living in a new city, going to a new school, and making a name for himself as an artist. 

his first showing yeilded him several offers from galleries, an invitation to a trade show, an offer for designing an album cover for a recording artist, and much more.  as he develops his website and merchandise lines, he is also selling poster prints of his original drawings. 

the following is from an ad he ran last week in a local artist community:

These drawings are all inspired by experiences in life. I recently moved to the area and wanted to meet a few artists,so I figured putting some pics up here would help. The drawings are 21 x 14 so they are pretty large, and they are all done with bic pens. I always felt as if they could be reprinted and sold for around 10$ as posters. There has got to be a market for people wanting to support veteran artists, right? All constructive criticism welcome, as well as pure unbridled hatred. I have plenty more of these, just not any that have been professionally photographed like these four. So sit back and stare at them, and enjoy...

(click pics to enlarge)

if you're interested in any of his work, or just want to see some different pics, please email him at corwyn.mansfield@gmail.com for more info.  if you live in the greater denver area and are interested in the upcoming trade show on sunday april 18th he can give you details for that as well. 

my brother's dream for a career as an artist is not about making money but more about sharing his passion and finding an audience that he can relate to, and that is something i will always support. 

hey guess what!? uh, nevermind...

this past weekend at work was kind of a blur, all the days seemed to blend into one another.  i remember at one point there were bag pipes in a cafe (which sounded amazing), ancient books in the new york historical society, and lots and lots and lots and lots of onions.

i almost cried tears of pain for the blister developing on my right hand, but then i didn't want the onions to think they were getting the better of me so i stifled my tears out of sheer stubbornness.

by saturday afternoon i had experienced such a range of randomness that i got the brilliant idea to start another blog dedicated solely to my stories of working in a kitchen, or 'cooking room' as i was once dumb enough to say when i couldn't think of the word kitchen fast enough.

but by sunday evening i had already talked myself out of that idea for several reasons, not the least of which being that it would be harder to keep up the veil of annonymity regarding my place of employment when all i did was talk about my job.     

then i realized that i tend to do things like that a lot.  i come up with ideas or plans for things and then give myself time to rationalize my way out of following through.  i don't know if i think this is a good thing or a bad thing, but i can say that it's definitely a pattern.

yet sometimes the opposite type of characteristic can also be true.  if i find myself in a particularly spontaneous situation, i have a hard time saying no to pretty much anything.  lucky for me b is slightly more grounded or else we could have been married by a dancing elvis in vegas.

what that all amounts to is basically i give myself liscense to bullshit about anything at any time and just blame it on being wishy washy.

maybe i'll start a cooking room blog someday, or maybe i'll just talk about the time that i thought about doing it.  either way, i still have a full-time schedule ahead of me loaded with the promise of interestingness to come. 

i'd say call me the white rabbit, but i think rabbits smell bad, so don't

i am somewhat obsessed with promptness.  being made to wait for someone or making someone wait for me i consider to be a serious insult. 

it's not that hard, just get your shit together and get there on time.  which, by the way, is a trick because if you're on time you're already late.

right.

and then i had a baby.

and then i turned thirty and got even slower.

the discomfort i feel with being late unfortunately doesn't lessen even as i know rationally that there's not much i can do about it sometimes.  in one way or another i am aware that my tardiness will affect someone else in an unexpected way, which i always feel guilty about.

this morning, for example, i experienced the perfect storm of incidents that led to my being about a half an hour late for my target date with kristine. 

the landscapers with their multitude of leaf blowers and lawn mowers made such a frightening racket that my silly monster was literally scared shitless.  it took an extra long time and a lot of coaxing to get him to proceed with his morning poop. 

which in turn delayed my shower, and made my coffee cold.

which made me forget that i was carrying coffee (as i tend to be much more careful with it when i know it's scalding hot).

which led to the sublime moment of spilling said coffee on my daughter's head.

which led me to grabbing the first travel mug i saw (after cleaning my poor kid's coffee hair) forgetting that the only clean one was the leaky one.

which led me to proceed to spill the freshly poured coffee down the front of my white shirt. 

but then i remembered that i was going to target where there's a starbuck's.  i knew i could save a few precious minutes by just wearing the coffee shirt and then getting a venti drip at target to walk around with.  anyone who noticed the stain would be sure to see the big ass cup in my hand and think that it must have just happened. 

and because i needed more coffee.

pretty clever, i thought.

and just like that, i have become the ragamuffin mom that i never thought i'd be. 

not about sailboats, although now that you mention it i'd love to have one

hi blogland, it's me, lana.  i've had a lot on my plate lately, literally.

yesterday i ate poison at work. 

it wasn't as bad as i would have expected it to be, although the taste took a few hours to fade away.  but at least i saved some people from potential death and their relatives from the hassle of a lawsuit, not to mention my boss's job.

i was just commenting to a friend recently about how much i enjoy having a career that always offers something new and different with each day, as opposed to sitting in the same desk in the same office.  i would have never experienced how easy it is to confuse a chemical de-greaser with cooking oil had i chosen a different path.

additionally, i am now realizing that my miniskirts from six years ago might still fit, but that doesn't mean that i should be wearing them.  this does not upset me, however the fact that i kind of want to keep a few of the nicer ones for my daughter should she ever want to wear them some sixteen years from now is quite bothersome.  am i a hoarder in the making? 

it's almost too disturbing to think about.  instead i think i'll go marvel at my amazing natural wonder, a siamese strawberry i found like a treasure hidden amongst all the regular berries.  behold:

you know you want one too.






ps.  where did my spell check go? 

pps.  and what is with all the spam?  have i really been gone that long?

like mucus

i was going to start this post off with a story about a nickname but unfortunately i can't because i'm too busy being mad at google.

i don't even want to ask what the fuck is with this new buzz bullshit in my gmail because i'm afraid of my head exploding and leaving tiny bloody brain bits on my nice clean carpet when i hear some asinine response.

there is such a thing as being overconnected, google, and your determination to attain global domination truly frightens me.

and that's all i'm going to say about that.


oh, and also, i love my new android phone that hanukka harry gave me.


in other news, my dad died last week and i'm pretty sure he's the one who dumped that shitton of snow all over the east coast just to throw a wrench into our plans for his memorial service.

typical.

maybe i can tell that nickname story now.

so my dad's best friend stood up to give a eulogy and while i was appropriately sad and emotional, i definitely heard derek zoolander saying 'ya-googalie' in my head.

this friend began by sharing how he and my father met when they were five years old in kindergarten. my dad says 'hi, i'm rob mansfield' and the friend says 'hi, i'm mike lucas.'

my dad says 'no, from this time forward your name is like mucus.'

also typical.


on that note, i want to send a very heartfelt thanks to all my wonderful family for coming together from all corners in the midst of a blizzard to listen to me ask mulitple times if my eyeliner was running as i cried.

you guys are the best, thank you!

be still my beating heart

the blue-green sparks were enough to illuminate almost a whole corner of the dark room. crisp crackling was the perfect accompaniment to their bright display.

small wisps of my hair remained standing on end a second or two longer than i thought they would have. removing my heavy sweatshirt made me warm and cold at the same time.

laying down between the clean sheets had a similar effect.

i've heard of certain concierge services at fancy hotels that include a human sheet warmer. i wouldn't want anyone to take that moment from me. that special minute where the cold clears your mind and helps you prepare for sleep is so integral to me that i don't think i'd be able to settle without it.

eyes closed, the sounds around me became amplified. the whir of some digital device somewhere nearby, and the soft hum of the heat blowing through the vent were the most noticeable.

that was, until i nestled my head deep into my pillow. then the thud of my pulse began to pound through my ear, dull at first, then louder and more consuming.

i thought of the raven and the heart beating under the floorboards.

but that only distracted me for a brief moment. then it was back to only hearing the whooshing of my own blood in my ear.

switching sides didn't help.

we battled this way for what felt like hours. i tried to ignore my pulse, my basic life function, and it became the only thing i knew.

------

waking up the next morning, i had no memory of the struggle. it was only later that night, when the scene began all over again, that it came back to me and i knew what i was in for.

and so it's been, night after night, forever and ever, i am sisyphus and my heartbeat is my boulder. it sustains me and drains me.