I Love Kitch Art!

I love kitch art and I'm ok if that makes Jack Dollhausen shudder. I'm drawn to it like Winnie the Pooh to honey and every time I am drawn in that direction my soul cowers a little in embarrassment that I might be letting Jack, my WSU sculpture professor, down; as if he can sense that I have once again been dragged into the junk yard of the art world (my words not his). Jack's point of view was that kitch art was not real art. Kitch art being art that is considered an inferior, tasteless copy of an extant style of art or a worthless imitation of art of recognized value. But that is the art I can afford, like to adorn myself with, and would like to cover my house with. Ooo and in writing this blog entry I just discovered I can buy Kitch Clothing; will have to check it out later. And I have come to terms with Jack, or no Jack, I love Kitch art!

So in my tongue drooling, wanton love of kitch stuff, I was just about blown out of my Birkenstocks when Walter and I were walking through Cost Plus World Imports, looking for a fantastic B-day gift for Jason, and they had these ceramic cups that looked like disposable coffee cups. Halos glowing around them in my minds eye, I made Walter look at their wonderfulness, to which he agreed they looked pretty cool but moved on. Three months later I still was thinking about them and finally succumbed to the need to purchase one.

I love it so much and don't know how people don't stop me at the bus transit center to ask me where I got that fantastic cup! I so look forward to drinking my coffee out of it I think I make out with it a little every time I have a sip.

Huzzah to kitch art! Now if I can just find the retro 30's tile looking one. In this fab print they only have it in orange and blue, the remaining cups are all powder coated in solid colors which rock too but don't have the pizazz of this cup.

Burping in Bed for the First Time

It took me a couple days to realize why Padon was describing throwing up all over his bed and on his blanket as "burping". It wasn't until I was patting Sophia and saying to her, "do you have to burp?" and thinking in my head "please don't let it be a gusher..." that I realized oh, ha! Baby burping was just a pleasanter version of vomiting! Sadly Padon's burping came with a lot of sharp stomach pains and necessitated a night on the living room floor, on an air mattress, near the pergo (?) floor (easy to clean up), with Mommy sleeping on the couch near by for moral support and lots of hugs and kisses.

Funny enough the next morning, after a night of no vomiting, Padon was playing with some bandaids left out by me, and Walter went to take them away saying, "Oh, no Padon, those are only for owies." To which Padon replied, "Tummy owie, have that bandaid?" How can you say no, when your toddler just justified your logic? So out came a bandaid to cover the spot that had an owie. Padon was careful to make sure the bandaid stayed and two days later it was still there until it became the casualty of an exploded diaper.