Archive for January, 2009

Man, the state of my shoes these days. 

I come from a long line of shoe-loving women.  It’s one truly girly thing I can claim for myself.  I love shoes.  But in typical Mox fashion, I love shoes that are supremely comfortable.  This of course lets out the many upon many styles of high heels and pointy toes which are so fashionable these days.  Give me a sporty shoe and I am a happy camper. 

My work shoes fall into the “practical” category, which is to say, they are mostly preppy-style loafers.  I am old enough to remember when “preppy” was the fashion of the day, and I embraced that look back then.  Nowadays that look is labeled “classic” and I do like that look, though I find that there is a fine line within that look between “conservative” and “dowdy.”  Since I work in a creative field, I don’t have to be ultra-conservative, and because of that I like to wear clothes that fall into the “Classic” category, but with a twist, a wink.  But I am at the point in my life where that fine line can get a little blurry, and it’s hard not to step out of Talbot’s sometimes dressed exactly like my mother.  Whom I love dearly but is nearly 30 years older than me. 

But the shoes.  As I said, I like loafers.  I like flats.  I like, at most, a little bit of a stacked heel.  I’m tall(ish) so height isn’t an issue with me, and I can move on down the street in a pair of flat shoes.  Which I like to do, since I am usually running late for something.  But after I wear a pair of shoes for a while, one of two things starts to happen — either the shoes start to wear out and look dumpy, or, because I have sweaty feet, they start to smell.  I’m told that this isn’t much of an issue when you buy high-end shoes, but this is me we’re talking about here.  High-end shoes would be nice but I can’t seem to wrap my mind around actually purchasing some. 

I am at the end point with my top three pairs of shoes — the black ones, the navy ones, and the brown ones.  And if you haven’t bought shoes lately, take it from me that three pairs of shoes can get into some serious denari.  So I have been watching sales and frequenting sale racks.  But of course what’s on these sale racks are shoes that are an affront to feet everywhere.  It’s been depressing. 

I am bound and determined to find myself some shoes that are comfortable, stylish, and reasonably priced, and I expect them to last me a while.  Something tells me I might need to take up shoemaking. 


— Mox

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— Mox

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Ok, here it is.

My belated but official rant about people who do not understand what “RSVP” means. 

Maybe they do understand, but they just don’t care.  No matter.  I’m here to sound off about it. 

Spawn’s party was quite possibly the best party we have given thus far.  And I say the best because I was not in charge of it.  We had the party at the zoo, and the zoo provided a party host who took the little hooligans and orchestrated the whole party.  I happily trailed along behind, making sure no one got separated from the group.  There was a zoo tour, a chance to feed some of the animals (have you ever seen a hippo eat apples?  it’s not for the easily nauseated), a chance to meet and touch some animals, and finally a party room with cake and drinks, which were provided, served and cleaned up by the zoo staff.  At the end I pulled out my checkbook and wrote a check and everyone went home postitively thrilled with the party.  Including me. 


My past experience with RSVPing has led me to adopt an attitude of “if they don’t call and say they’re not coming, then I plan on them showing up.”  Since of course most people assume that RSVP means they only have to call if they’re not coming.  (If you think this is what RSVP mean, let me assure you that you do not have it right.)  I err on the side of caution.   This stance eliminates a lot of angst on my part, and believe me, I need to reduce the amount of angst in my life. 

I’d had enough response to at least feel comfortable with the number of children I definately knew would be there, so that Spawn wouldn’t have to suffer a party with no guests.  But there were three children whose parents I never heard from that I, using my formula, thought would show up. 

Not one of them showed up.  My mother, bless her soul, even waited for them to straggle in at the front gate for half an hour before deciding to give it up and join the rest of the party in progress. 

If you’ve been reading this blog any length of time at all, you know that I have zero patience for people who are rude.  As far as I’m concerned, Rude is one of the Seven Deadly Sins.  A certain amount of social ignorance I can handle, because hey, I’m just as guilty of ignorance as the next guy sometimes.  But to not reply to a RSVP when you know damn good and well you aren’t coming?  RUDE. 

These people have been duly noted in my File of Rudeness and it is entirely possible they will not receive another invitation from me, ever.  This may not be any great loss as far as they’re concerned.  But I am at least giving myself the satisfaction of a preemptive snub.  Because that’s just the kind of person I am. 


— Mox

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Feeling a little flat today.

I can’t say for sure what’s up with me, but I’m feeling ambivalent about just about everything today.  Could be the fact that I haven’t seen the sunshine in about a week, save for a few peeks in between the clouds.  Could be the friggin’ cold, which is cold indeed.  Thank heavens I don’t live any further north than what I do. 

Whilst I wait for the weather to break, I’ll be clearing out closets, literally and figuratively.  Keep checking back. 


— Mox

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Hi, I’m new here.

When I pause for just a little bit and think back to what I was doing eight years ago today, it feels like it’s both ages ago and also yesterday. 

The thing about parenthood, at least for me, is that every age and stage is totally new and different.  I mean oh, sure, there’s a lot of stuff that feels like old hat, but there’s also just enough of the new that it keeps me on my toes.  I now understand why my mother didn’t sleep complete nights until well after I was out on my own. 

Spawn remains just enough of a puzzle for me that the kid is endlessly entertaining.  But where I once was able to almost see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, now I’m starting to see a curtain coming down over the coming attractions.  The kid is starting to learn how to mask motives a little better. 

In the past eight years I’ve been parenting, I have officially lost my cool so many times that by the time Spawn reaches puberty, I will already be a tragic embarrassment.  So I guess it won’t be a really big loss.  Already we’re seeing rolling eyes and hearing exasperated sighs.  Just little glimpses of the teen to be. 

What an adventure thus far. 


— Mox

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Just… not feeling it.

So I got some more responses to Spawn’s party invitations yesterday, and that pushed the response rate up past 50%. I’m just going to assume that the non-responders are coming anyway and if they don’t then more cake for me.

I just don’t have the energy to rant about it today. In fact, I’m feeling sweet, sweet relief that at least there will be someone in attendance at the party. Having a kid in January was probably not the best plan, because weather tends to wreak havoc during this time of the year. That fact, coupled with my own admitted neurosis about no one showing up at a party I’m giving, plus the fact that it’s three weeks after Christmas… the whole thing just drains me.

Why no, I’m not much of a social butterfly. I’m not even sure I’m a social caterpillar.  Why do you ask?

I feel pretty confident that Spawn will be pleased with the gifts, though. The only two things the kid has really asked for are Bendaroos and a Pokemon book, and though I think both things are some of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen, I am not on the cusp of being eight years old. Obviously I’m not in a position to judge.

My lack of high anxiety over this party could mean that after eight years, I’m finally starting to get the hang of this mom thing. 


— Mox

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Today is the deadline I set for people to RSVP to Spawn’s birthday party. 

Ordinarily I would be full-out ranting at this point about response rates and the lack of knowledge about what RSVP means but this is 2009 and I’m attempting to be a kinder, gentler Mox.  Which is giving me a toothache but I’m trying.  I know this form of self-improvement can’t last too much longer, anyhow. 

I did some quick figuring just now and right at 40% of the invitations sent out have been responded to, both in the affirmative and the negative.  Not the rate of return I’d like to see, but knowing what I know about what others know about etiquette, I have to take what I can get.  I mean, hey, at least some people can translate French.  Right? 

Spawn’s party is at the zoo this year.  I must say, the zoo offers a great package for birthday parties.  You provide the guests and they do the rest — a mini-tour of the zoo, private party room, an animal ambassador or two for the guests to meet and touch, cake, party favors, and clean-up.  All I have to do is write a check for it, and for the price it’s about the same as what we spent last year to have a sleepover party.  Two hours and it’s over and my sanity is not at stake.  A win all the way around. 

And barring a blizzard, it looks as though we’ll have a few guests, which is always my main concern.  I’m always afraid that I’ll plan a party an no one will show up.  As hard as that would be on an adult, for a little kid that would be devastating, and most any parent wants to avoid that sort of heartbreak for their kid. 

I have to give my party count to the party coordinator tomorrow, so there’s still an opportunity for 60% of the parents to Répondez S’il Vous Plaît.  If those parents don’t follow through there is a good chance that this space will be filled with ranting tomorrow.  Because at that point the kinder, gentler Mox will have been replaced with the truer edition. 

Stay tuned. 


— Mox

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