Warm Clothes

The recent downturn in temperatures here has us bundling up and trying to stay warm. It's also made Norah a snotty, cold-ridden mess. We've begun to employ her fleece winter sleepers during the night.

Great-grams Mabon sent this one last year after she found it at a post-Christmas sale. It's sized at "12 Months." Oi. Norah's huge...


A warm sweater made by Norah's Great Aunt Marcia:


Good stuff. You're all so appreciated for all of the things you have made and given us for Norah. Thanks for being such blessings to the three of us.

Stay Gold!

MMK

i am not a public display

The following was written by a good friend of ours:

"i received a text the other night from a friend telling me how Taylor Ryan, the tattoo artist working on my left sleeve, will be coming back to Iowa so i could make an appointment to get worked on. Over the past couple months i've sat down with company reps and discussed body modification with my boss and decided i wanted to turn my 3/4's sleeve into a full sleeve and continue it onto my arm, seeing as body modification is pretty accepted in my career, that is by most companies, but maybe not so many clients.

Two years ago i stepped foot into a tattoo shop not realizing that the minute i decided to tattoo my skin i would be losing complete freedom of my body. I cannot count the number of times i have had random strangers grab and twist my arms into positions they do not bend. I also do not enjoy the quiz questions i get that go along with my piercings and tattoos...."do they hurt"...i mean it is a needle so yes..."how long did it take"...i don't know i didn't time them..."how much did it cost"....quality not quantity...."do your parents know"...yes...."do they approve"...it's my body i don't quite care...etc, etc. I really love the question "does your mother accept the way you look", not realizing that i can't even tell you what my mother looks like, but as awkward of a question that is, i will purposely make my response just as awkward in hopes of making that person feel just as little as they tried to make me.

I really, REALLY, do not like when someone asks me to show them my tattoos. I do not ask to see you naked, or to take your pants off, or to lift up your shirt. my tattoos are apart of me, they are permanent. I cannot take my arm off of my body, and i cannot remove the ink that lays upon my skin, therefore i have the right to not show off my tattoos. my body is my body and i am not a public display for anyone to look at, twist in odd positions, and gawk over. favorite example of personal space, i bent over one day to pick something up, i had a lady say "are those hands?"...yes, i have a pair of butchered hands that are on my lower back and bleed onto my ass. after i told her that she proceeded to pull my pants down and lift up my shirt, HELLO PERSONAL SPACE. my ass is my ass, and i do not have any intentions of showing it off, especially not to some random asshole lady who cannot keep her hands off me in public. Of course, if i were to yell or swing i'd be a terrible person because those covered in tattoos are either thugs, drug dealers, drug addicts, sluts, demon possessed, or criminals. I'd love to tell someone who calls me a terrible person for my appearance that i am happily sober and drug free and i did not get my tattoos in hopes of finding men and i do not steal or so i sacrifice animals of any kind, thank you.

It is 2009, i feel as though it is quite sad that my appearance and the appearance of others with body modification can be "offensive". It is also sad that racism, sexism, homophobia, and all forms of prejudice still exist in 2009, but that's a whole different rant and story.

end of rant."

I can relate to the rant. I, too, have lost count of how many people have grabbed and twisted my arm just to see all of my tattoos. At one point, I even had an elderly woman grab my shirt and pull it down just to see more of my chest piece. AWKWARD. I felt so uncomfortable I don't even remember what she said to me...I just wanted to get away from her.

It's funny - most of the time I forget I have tattoos. As mentioned in the rant, the tattoos I have are on my skin, and they have truly become apart of me and who I am. When people point them out, I'm like, oh yeah...that.

Why have I chosen to be tattooed? A few different reasons I suppose...
1) I personally find them attractive or as Marshall would say aesthetically pleasing.
2) I value the opportunity to "wear" my faith. But don't be confused - this is more for me than for those who observe my art...but then, doesn't that benefit those around me?
3) To hold fast to my choices, decisions, and commitments. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am an Iowan. I am a child of God. I am drug free.
4) I enjoy art. And I'm honored to have met such great artists (well, minus one...but that's another story for another blog).

Anyways. You don't have to like tattoos or agree with my decisions, but please...just respect me and my body.

Please and thank you.

Seven Months

Norah turned seven months old a couple of days ago. As is our custom, we took some birthday photographs...

Reading what it's all about:


Waving to people back home:


Annnnd losing it entirely:


It was a solid day overall, I'd say.

If you can't tell from the pictures, she's looking more and more grown up every day. She sits up on her own, can turn around while sitting without falling over very often, picks things up, intentionally reaches for and rolls to get to things she wants, babbles to herself, mimics sounds we make, and laughs a lot. Still no teeth, but she's eating all sort of soft foods and baby cereals. I processed some green beans the other day and she's been eating one or two bean cubes with some apple sauce for her nightly meals lately. We're trying to get her to drink water out of a sip cup instead of a bottle, but she's yet to take too heartily to either the cup or the water without any formula. All in due time, I suppose.

More pictures from the past week:







That's it for now. You're welcome America.

Stay Gold,

MMK

All the Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands

And Norah will now, too. On command. It's pretty awesome that we can just say a word and she'll register its meaning and act in response. Like she's a real person or something.



She'll be seven months old tomorrow. It's hard to believe that it's gone this quickly.

Oh well.

Stay Gold!

MMK

The Genius of the Crowd

by Charles Bukowski -


there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art