My mom the talking head

I am very proud of my mom. She's a health economist and does cool thing like analyzing why Bush's health "reform" plans suck. She was recently taped talking about Health Savings Accounts (bleh). The show airs Wednesday on Southern Cal cable.

Since I don't live in LA, I'll have to settle for staring at this screen shot:



and shouting "My mom's brain can whip your mom's ass!".

No wonder the neighbors won't talk to me.

A few things about me

Things you might want to know about Nonlinear Girl and her family:

Chris is my husband. We met in college and amazingly still get along as well as we did when we first met. Better even, because neither of us are now nervous that the other person will come to his/her senses and dump us. He is smart, funny and beautiful. Plus, he is a terrific cook.

Ada is our first child. She was born in June 2005, after several years of trying to get pregnant the "normal" way and then with the help of doctors. Eventually the expensive, painful way worked and the girl has been strong and lively since she started kicking the crap out of me in utero.

In May 2009 (after a year of failed IVF attempts and one successful try) I gave birth to twins, Mira and Ian. Further proof that sometimes you have to give up before things work out.

We live in Portland, Oregon. Chris and I lived here in college, and left for ten years before returning (thanks to a job offer). We are thrilled every day (even after 73 days of straight rain) to live in such a beautiful, environmentally and socially progressive, crafty, beer-centric place.

We are surrounded by friends and close to family. We finally have what I call furniture friends; we share food (oops, I bought too much at the farmer's market, need some veggies?), borrow books and toys, call at the last minute for baby-sitting, bbqing and commiseration. It is as close to nirvana as a girl can expect in this life. And since I don't believe I'm getting another chance, I am happy to have this one.


And now some things you could easily have lived without knowing:

My toes and feet crack. I think I broke a few bones as a child, and Just moving my foot around makes a terrible crunching noise. It feels good though, so I keep doing it.

I talk to my parents almost every weekend. They tag-team me on the phone, which can be difficult. Even worse, sometimes they'll start a side conversation and need to be reminded that they are calling to talk with me.

As a child I was always tall, wore thick glasses and had buck teeth. The teeth eventually went back to the "correct" position without orthodontia, I got contacts the summer before high school, and eventually at least some of the boys I knew stopped being so short. Still, I my sense of self as the ugly girl was pretty gelled in junior high, and I tend to be a bit insecure about my looks. Despite this, I don't wear a lot of make up and find it is all I can do to blow-dry my hair once or twice a week.

I love bread. I'm one of those people who fills up on the slices they bring to the table at restaurants. Then I eat my full meal and walk out with a stomach ache.

I have a hard time getting rid of books. Even ones I hated get carted across the country with me. Even ones I use as door-stops, they stay. Am I ever going to read my copy Herodotus again? Unlikely. Will I sell or donate it? Nope. We have two copies of Strunk and White, so I will consider tossing one of them. Then again, we've had both copies for at least 10 years.

I climbed my first mountain in 2003. I climbed another one in 2004. Then I was pregnant, and then it was not convenient. I am really hoping to climb again soon.

Give Me. The. Banana.

The First Post

In which we try to figure out what the blog's name should be. Considered:

Poopy Fog
Our friend and neighbor Steven is a columnist for the Oregonian. In a recent column he noted that there were so many babies being born in the neighborhood that our street is shrouded in a poopy fog. I loved this one, but since I didn't make it up, I decided to use it in my descriptive subheading instead.

Aldered States
When I was in college, students named their rental houses. Two of the more enduring house names were "the dustbin" and "the fridge". My first summer in Portland, my best friend and I rented "the disco inferno", and I lived at "the love connection" my junior year. It morphed into "chanel no. 5" after I left. Chris lived in house-a-rama. My senior year we lived with a friend at Ellis Island, a great house with bad carpeting on Ellis Street. Now we live on Alder.

My Baby Can Lick Any Sonofabitch In The House
Well, it's true.

A is for Baby

Funny Bunny
I often call Ada "bunny", as in "oh, you are a funny bunny" or "oh bunny, bunny, bunny"

Mother, there is no other
google this phrase and "Mr. T". The song is so catchy, I find myself humming it all the time.

Alder Street Cafe
Chris liked this one, but couldn't defend it when I asked "why cafe?"

Ada Ada Lemonada
She's as fine as sweet potata.

We finally settled on Nonlinear Girl.
In college Chris baked for the student run cafe. His cookies were these great big, bumpy chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. He branded his cookies "nonlinear chocolate chip oatmeal cookies" so that people would know to ask for them by name. This is what happens when a physics major gets creative.