I've Exhausted Non-Anonymity

I have always prided myself on my dedication to honesty. I believe that, for many years, The Adventures of Zube Girl was home to lots of honest blatherings, uninhibited by the judgment of others. Actually? I think I welcomed the judgment of others. I thrived on being honest about hard shit. And was humble, or at least accepting to people who called me out on the hardness of that shit or whathaveyou.

Recently (I mean, if you consider three years recent) I've come to realize that non-anonymity is impeding my inner-writer. I have been fighting going underground vehemently, but I see no other way around it. I have a million fucking things to say, but they've taken up residence in my head, and won't GET THE FUCK OUT, because I have strictly adhered to this honesty (more like, everyone knows who I am and everyone I know so I don't want to rock the boat) policy.

I've got to stop. For my own sanity. I mean, I've got to stop lying for the sake of being honest.

Which is to say, I must write elsewhere. Elsewhere, where I'm not known (Hi, Mom! I promise I won't talk shit about you! I won't talk shit at all, really. I just need to be fucking honest for once in three years). Or my writing will forever suffer.

If you're so inclined to follow along, drop me an e-mail at zubegirl at gmail dot com. I have not set up this Honest Liars Lair just yet, but will in the next day or so. I might ask for a bit of backstory if you ask where to find me. Just fair warning.

It's been real and it's been fun. Even really fun sometimes. But now it is time to call it quits here. Sorry folks.

Flying the Friendly Skies

On my recent sojourn to the Land of Zubes, AKA Jersey, I learned many, many things.

-If your kids are crabby for the first hour of a flight? And then angels for the remaining three? People will still give you the old stink eye as you wrestle your children off the plane. That first hour makes a lasting impression, it would seem.

-If your kids are angels for the first three and a half hours of a flight and then lose their fucking minds a half hour before landing and then crash out of exhaustion as the landing gear goes down and you're left in a quandry wondering how on earth you are going to unload two sleeping children, a wheeled suitcase, a diaper bag, a single stroller, to get to baggage claim with only two arms? In this event, people can actually be pretty goddamned nice. One will offer to carry your bags and another will offer to carry your baby and they'll give you a sympathetic smile as you swagger off carrying your previously screaming, now sleeping toddler. They'll take turns helping you push the toddler in a stroller to your destination.

-If you also happen to disintegrate into a puddle of tears at the sight of your honey upon exiting security and then stand sniffling and red-eyed at baggage claim? People are EVEN nicer. They'll tell you how great your kids were the whole trip and how they just must have been tired at the end and how you were such a trooper.

Sometimes traveling alone with the two kids reaffirms my theory that people are inherently good. Sometimes it doesn't.

I had an awesome fucking trip. Totally awesome. And also? Us Zubes make some damn good looking children.



Though said beatiful children will most certainly test your patience and instestinal fortitude in any attempt you make to capture their beautifullness on film. This photo was finally snapped after two hours of diligent cajoling, bribing, and tear-wiping. The photographer was a saint. Truly. The Zubes had actually given up. We were willing to settle for individual shots of each. I'm glad we were persuaded to give it one more go.