(Of course I immediately entered every contest I could think of, just in case I was temporarily, what do you call it, lucky.)

The iPod itself came all the way from Canada. Did you know that they put French directions in Canadian iPods?

I’m seriously in love with it. Seriously. And unlike the Android, there are TONS of great kid apps that Ellison has decided mean it should belong to him. Not a chance, kid. (Except that he’s so cute all curled up on the couch with his little tech gadget, just like mommy and daddy.)

So, yes. I am a winner. I win things.

*Not actually a fact.

• Beignets from Violetta
• Mallhopping with the kid, who insisted on getting a plush Koopa Troopa (he’s been on a Super Mario kick)
• Ice cream using the gift certificate I won in the Metro Parent drawing
• Dangling our feet in the fountain at Director Park

It was a pretty good day.

Apparently, left to my own devices and devoid of outside influences, the stuff I choose to listen to is…pretty goddamn emo. Not that I’m downloading emo crap from iTunes or anything, it’s just that apparently the songs I like are all full of hopelessness and despair. And occasionally elephants.

The lineup: OK Go, Evelyn Evelyn, The Postal Service/Death Cab for Cutie (Death Cab for the Postal Service? Postal Service for Cutie?), Steve Burns, Tegan & Sara, Glen Phillips, Iron & Wine (I have not made up my mind about Iron & Wine), Cat Power, the occasional Tori Amos, a smattering of Pink Floyd. An appearance by Stabbing Westward (oh 90s, you made stalking sound so romantic). That one Nirvana song I like ( – no, the other one). Shuffle. Repeat.

The inclusion of Evelyn Evelyn is predictable enough, at least – there is no possible way that I could not love something which involves circus freak cabaret. By conjoined twins. Who sing about a two-headed elephant. It’s like they made the album just for me. Also: listen to the song Evelyn Evelyn and tell me you’ve never had a relationship like that. Go ahead. I will wait.

The OK Go thing is a little more abstract, but for serious, you guys: Of the Blue Colour of the Sky is amazing. White Knuckles is the danciest song about having your heart ripped out that I’ve ever heard, and the muted refrain at the end of Needing/Getting (“When? When? Why not now? Why not me? Why not me?”) devastates me, even though the song itself is my least favorite on the album. (I know, people really like that song. I just can’t fully endorse anything that uses the word ‘dumber’ in a non-ironic way. Also it reminds me of something, but I can’t remember what. And yes, that is my reason, shut up.)

But add that to Death Cab for the Postal Service and stir in a little Glen Phillips and if you’re not reaching for a Prozac cocktail, you’re clearly dead inside. Or else you’ve been listening to the playlist for so long you can’t drag yourself out of bed. Because the common element in all the Death Cabs and New Explorers and Dust Mites and what have you: loss. A chasm of loss. (And also circus freaks.)

Steve Burns has this great album – this great, underrated album that no one I know has listened to because, Steve Burns, that’s the guy from Blues Clues right? And is pretty much as far as those conversations go – that he described as ‘songs about science and love.’ Which is the absolute perfect balance. All songs should be about science and love. Anything and love, really. Cooking and love. Shuffleboard and love. Debilitating arthritis and love.

Sidebar: I’m not talking about love songs. Love songs are totally different beasts, and while not all of them are utter crap, well. But instead of writing about love, instead of making love the focus, give it to me as the backdrop. Give me your rage or your despair or your disenchantment and then slip in that one line, the one that breaks my heart because I didn’t see it coming.

Of course, I have to also consider that both Songs for Dustmites and Of the Blue Colour of the Sky were produced by Dave Fridmann, so there’s always the chance that the thing that I love isn’t any of the above but is simply the Fridmann’s influence – a theory which I reject on the basis that I’ve never liked the Flaming Lips and also because it’s not like those are the only two albums I’ve ever fallen in love with, obviously.

To wit: Glen Phillips. Glen Phillips has had a place in my geeky heart ever since the days of toad the wet sprocket, and it’s there are days when he’s all I listen to, from Abulum to Secrets of the New Explorers. Songs about space travel? Yes please, as long as they are as hauntingly beautiful and immediate as The Spirit of Shackleton.

there are droplets of crimson
they surround me as they drift
bonding together
or bursting into mist
so i open up my mouth
and i offer out my tongue
they are salty and sweet
like the memory of love

See what he did there? That one line: salty and sweet, like the memory of love. You know that taste. I know that taste. And it breaks my heart.

Back to Steve Burns for a moment: one of my favorite songs is the unreleased demo version of Mighty Little Man, the one that doesn’t try to tell a story but instead is full of nonsense and revelation. I love it because it’s random, like doodles, and because in the midst of all the randomness he says “I have my mother’s eyes,” and it’s lovely and intimate and it doesn’t matter, not to anyone, but it’s true. (Or at least I assume it’s true. For the sake of argument.)

Burns didn’t like the demo of the song. He said it was too personal. (I would do a quote here but steveswebpage.com is down, so you’ll have to rely on my precarious and malleable memory.) But here’s the thing: the album version of Mighty Little Man? Does nothing for me. It might be a better song. It might have stronger lyrics. But it doesn’t make my eyes spark with sudden tears the way that line does. Also: shut up, I totally wasn’t crying.

I don’t want to hear a story. I want to identify. I want words to put to the things that have only ever existed inside my head. And yeah, it’s too personal. Anything worth doing always is.

I haven’t gotten the little icons back up (and I don’t even know if I’m going to bother with them, except that I love my lovely icons and will miss them if they are not there) and I may still re-code the site because I’m like that. But at least my sidebar isn’t sad anymore.

Here’s what I told Twitter:

Apparently my problem isn’t depression, it’s the fact that every 6mos or so I have a good day. The day after that? SUCKS.

Which pretty much sums it up, so I’ll just move on to the related subject of my sidebar, and how it doesn’t so much have anything in it anymore. Like my head. But unlike my head, the problem lies entirely at the feet of Yahoo! Pipes. You know, a service wherein I painstakingly set up a series of feeds and did magical linking things to make them output a certain way, and then even more painstakingly hacked my way through several PHP tutorials in order to display that output on my site? Yes, those pipes. The ones that are now outputting nothing.

I know, I know, it’s my fault for relying on a third-party service. And clearly I’ve learned my lesson and have not spent the entire night trying to bend Tumblr to my will in order to maybe use it to display my feeds in my sidebar (which…just in case anyone is deeply curious, does not work).

SO NOW I am going to need to re-code my entire fecking theme since I no longer have a lovely and clever lifestream-y sidebar. I WILL GET RIGHT ON THAT.

Anyway I crocheted this great neck warmer using the Unisex Neck Sock pattern by Wendy C. Brown (add it to your Ravelry queue, for serious). I used Cascade- hey, y’all, if you’re not into this sort of thing, for the love of god, stop reading now. I’m not going to talk about anything else in this post. Anyway: Cascade 220 Superwash in this fabulous slate heather that’s almost black & is just crazy cute. As is my husband, amirite?

Anyway he loves it, and can often be seen wearing it on his head. Because he’s a maverick, see? (Also it keeps his ears warm.) I’m really happy with the way this came out and am totally going to make one for myself. Except with buttons. Because how cute would that be?

So yes, there’s that. And also, I will.

Anyway: the party was a success, if a little under-attended (one group of guests had apparently been sure it was the next weekend, at which point they e-mailed me going “Um, did you know that your party was a week ago? You probably did.” Which was funny, and I may have LOLed, but only very quietly and to myself). The kid had a fabulous time. He helped me decorate the littlest cupcakes (which he decided were meteors). No one else had any idea what the cake/cupcake spread was supposed to be, which was fine. I guess.

Also a (qualified) success: the rocket softie. I made some modifications to a pattern I found in One Yard Wonders (which is a pretty fabulous book, if you’re into that sort of thing) and it turned out kind of awesome. The kid likes it, which was the important part.

In other crafty news, I finally slipcovered the Fabulous!Rocking!Glider! (the exclamation points are to emphasize the fact that I love the lovely glider and am not going to get rid of it despite the increasing impracticality of having it in our house). A favorite snuggling spot for both kid and cats, the F!R!G! was sort of disgustingly stained and matted with cat hair, and since the cushions were both a) cream-colored and b) upholstered, cleaning it was a pain. ENTER CRAFTY MAMA, with her IKEA fabric and her barely-passable sewing machine skills! Given that I don’t have the first clue what I’m doing, I think it turned out pretty well.

All those other grand ideas I had? Not going to happen. I was totally going to make garland, and ornaments, and stuff. But what did I do instead? I caught a cold. (I did make gingerbread men. I’m not dead.)

This year is no different, except for the part where the kid is SUPER EXCITED!!! about all of it. Last year? Meh. This year? OMG birthday! OMG Christmas! Is it Christmas yet? CAN SANTA BRING ME AN INSECTOSAURUS TOY?*

But I? I am a shopping master this year, and am already done with gift acquisition, thanks to the glory that is the Internet.

And we got a tree! A real tree, made of wood and green stuff. Someone brought it to us on a bicycle. (Have I mentioned lately how much I love Portland?) We decorated the other day (the tree, not the bike messenger) and I took one look at the finished product and OF COURSE decided I need to craft various felt-based ornaments to pretty it up. (Still talking about the tree, here, people. Keep up.) I’m thinking garland, for one thing (found a super-simple tutorial on Anna Maria Horner’s site – the kid could even help, which would rock). Also various and sundry hanging decorations (like the ornaments featured on Fantastic Toys and the Felt Circles ornament featured on Craftzine, which purports to be much easier than it looks). Someone also mentioned Shrinky Dinks, which – I love Shrinky Dinks, and how much fun would that be? And I totally got the kid a Shrinky Dink set for his birthday, because nothing says Christmas like robots, amirite?

Speaking of, I’m making a crapload of felt toys for the kid’s 4th birthday party, which we are hosting at our miniscule apartment because we are crazy people. I figured I didn’t have enough to do, what with Christmas and the business and the book release and all. Why not also make the solar system out of baked goods (related: I still love you, Pluto) and hand-sew a huge rocket pillow to give to the kid (and miniature versions thereof as party favors)?

Aside: party favors? Did not exist when I was a kid. Or else I just went to the wrong parties. Because I never got swag, and now everyone does it and I totally can’t be the only mom who’s all ‘hey, I gave you cake, what more do you want?’. But then I get all psycho overachiever and decide it would be so much cooler if I made favors myself, and that’s where you get the pre-party mama meltdown. Which is not going to happen this year, FYI. It’s totally not.

*He’s decided that an Insectosaurus toy is the most exciting thing anywhere ever, and every time he mentions Santa Claus he asks if Santa can bring him one. Which was a little dicey for those of us who do Santa’s shopping for him, since the damn thing’s apparently a collector’s item or some crap. Thank god for eBay, is all I have to say.

Not So is watching Ghostbusters. This is what we do. We watch things.

In other news, I was really sick a couple of weeks ago with what may or may not have been swine flu (take that, specificity!) and realized one night I forgot to take my prozac. Since then I’ve continued to not take my prozac and I’ve felt kind of fabulous, so I’m counting that as a win. The prozac was great, actually, but it made me so freaking tired I could barely keep my eyes open, except at night, when I would just lay in bed with a million ideas running through my head. I enjoy my sleep, but I also enjoy not sleeping at appropriate times, kwim?

Speaking of sleep, I’m tired, and I have a TON to do tomorrow.