But first we had our Christmas party to get ready for and then I got my period.
I know, I know, why should menstruation keep me from blogging. Well, it signaled the close of the first cycle after we lost the baby. I wanted to write about it; I just couldn't find the words. I may yet. Oops, I guess I just did. I do have other things to blog about but the time just gets away from me. Sorry!
Cycles
The bleeding starts
lightly,
thinly.
My body
returns to its normal
rhythm,
cycling with the moon,
the tides.
My mind is also
slowly
returning to its normal
rhythm,
the beat of my heart
being the only
heartbeat therein.
We will,
soon enough,
start searching again,
searching each other
for the soul that will
join us
eventually,
inviting it to
take up a
temporary residence
in my body,
and a permanent
one in our lives.
I am
heartened,
hopeful,
wistful
as my body
prepares a new palette
for the Creator
of Light
to use.
Dec 16, 2006
Dec 6, 2006
3 Weeks and Counting - Thanks
for all your support over the last 3 weeks. Being able to express some of the myriad emotions running rampant in my head helped me a lot through these weeks and knowing I had friends to read the poems helped a lot too. There is a lot more to be said but I know I've healed some because the ideas aren't assaulting me at every turn and I am now able to think about the situation without becoming Niobe.
I would be interested to know if you particularly liked or disliked any of the poems and what your overall feeling about them was. I'd also be interested to know whether you think these might help other women going through the same thing. I have an idea but I'm not sure yet if it's a worthwhile one. So, please don't be afraid to tell me you didn't like them or found them banal or something; I'm just curious and will still love you all, I promise! If you don't want to leave comments publicly - you can reach me at peppypilotgirl (at) hotmail.com or any one of my other email addresses.
I really appreciate your continued help.
I will probably be writing about this (and other things) for a while as, among all the grieving, I seem to have remembered that I *like* to write poetry. (Lucky you... not.)
I would be interested to know if you particularly liked or disliked any of the poems and what your overall feeling about them was. I'd also be interested to know whether you think these might help other women going through the same thing. I have an idea but I'm not sure yet if it's a worthwhile one. So, please don't be afraid to tell me you didn't like them or found them banal or something; I'm just curious and will still love you all, I promise! If you don't want to leave comments publicly - you can reach me at peppypilotgirl (at) hotmail.com or any one of my other email addresses.
I really appreciate your continued help.
I will probably be writing about this (and other things) for a while as, among all the grieving, I seem to have remembered that I *like* to write poetry. (Lucky you... not.)
Dec 5, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 21 | Inseparable / Three Weeks
21. Inseparable
We were the best of friends,
inseparable in
fun, laughter.
I don’t know
when
the drift
began.
It became complete
when her
response to the death
of my child
was a fifth of
vodka
and a stack of
stupid comedies.
Funny how death
separates the inseparable.
22. Three Weeks
Three weeks
have passed.
Three weeks in which I have
eaten (too much), slept (not well),
bathed, run errands, worked, and
watched my daughter.
Three weeks which have seemed
as long as
three years
but which have served
to dull the
pain
somewhat.
Three weeks in which I have
stayed as busy as humanly
possible.
Because to slow down
enough to think
would mean
to feel and
to feel has been
too painful
for words.
I believe
that it is
time
to slow down.
We were the best of friends,
inseparable in
fun, laughter.
I don’t know
when
the drift
began.
It became complete
when her
response to the death
of my child
was a fifth of
vodka
and a stack of
stupid comedies.
Funny how death
separates the inseparable.
22. Three Weeks
Three weeks
have passed.
Three weeks in which I have
eaten (too much), slept (not well),
bathed, run errands, worked, and
watched my daughter.
Three weeks which have seemed
as long as
three years
but which have served
to dull the
pain
somewhat.
Three weeks in which I have
stayed as busy as humanly
possible.
Because to slow down
enough to think
would mean
to feel and
to feel has been
too painful
for words.
I believe
that it is
time
to slow down.
21 Day Challenge | Day 20 | Hope was Born Today
20. Hope was Born Today
A baby was born today.
A baby whose parents lost their
firstborn, stillborn.
A baby who will never know her
older brother.
Hope was born today.
A baby was born today.
A baby whose parents lost their
firstborn, stillborn.
A baby who will never know her
older brother.
Hope was born today.
Dec 3, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 19 | Who Will Care for Her
19. Who Will Care for Her / The Ortiz Stabbings
Her picture is wild-eyed,
frantic.
She stabbed her babies,
three of them,
multiple times.
And called her
boyfriend’s mother
to say,
“the children are dead.”
The tears form a
torrent
down my face.
How can she not realize how
much beyond value,
how
sacred,
each of those fragile
bodies
is?
How can she
erase
those tiny
souls?
The children
will
live
and their
grandmother
will care for
them.
I am
lucky.
Though my pain
will not
vanish
altogether,
I will live
and people
will care for
me.
But who will care for
this girl,
when she
realizes
what she has
lost?
Courant Article re: Ortiz Custody Hearing
Her picture is wild-eyed,
frantic.
She stabbed her babies,
three of them,
multiple times.
And called her
boyfriend’s mother
to say,
“the children are dead.”
The tears form a
torrent
down my face.
How can she not realize how
much beyond value,
how
sacred,
each of those fragile
bodies
is?
How can she
erase
those tiny
souls?
The children
will
live
and their
grandmother
will care for
them.
I am
lucky.
Though my pain
will not
vanish
altogether,
I will live
and people
will care for
me.
But who will care for
this girl,
when she
realizes
what she has
lost?
Courant Article re: Ortiz Custody Hearing
Dec 2, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 18 | All the Right Things
18. All the Right Things
A card came
in the mail.
It did not say “I’m sorry.”
It did not say “you can try again.”
It did not say “at least you have your daughter.”
It said,
“the loss is more painful than
anything.”
It said,
“I know.”
It said,
“I want to cry when my son
wishes he had a brother.”
It said,
“He does.”
It said all the right things.
And I am thankful.
A card came
in the mail.
It did not say “I’m sorry.”
It did not say “you can try again.”
It did not say “at least you have your daughter.”
It said,
“the loss is more painful than
anything.”
It said,
“I know.”
It said,
“I want to cry when my son
wishes he had a brother.”
It said,
“He does.”
It said all the right things.
And I am thankful.
Dec 1, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 17 | If I Were To Look Into His Mind
17. If I Were To Look Into His Mind
He says he’s
fine.
Ok.
Well, sad,
of course.
But ok.
His face is carefully
blank.
I do not
know
if he is
or is not
as
he says.
I wonder what I would
see
if I were to look into his
mind.
He says he’s
fine.
Ok.
Well, sad,
of course.
But ok.
His face is carefully
blank.
I do not
know
if he is
or is not
as
he says.
I wonder what I would
see
if I were to look into his
mind.
21 Day Challenge | Day 16 | Creation
16. Creation
The urge to create is
inexorable, unyielding.
Jewelry, afghans, cookies.
Dinner, ornaments, clothing.
An insatiable craving to bring
something from
nothing.
Art, quilts, poems, notecards.
Curtains, pillows, bookmarks.
Anything
to prove
that this person,
this broken person,
can bring something
into the world.
The urge to create is
inexorable, unyielding.
Jewelry, afghans, cookies.
Dinner, ornaments, clothing.
An insatiable craving to bring
something from
nothing.
Art, quilts, poems, notecards.
Curtains, pillows, bookmarks.
Anything
to prove
that this person,
this broken person,
can bring something
into the world.
Nov 30, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 15 | The Spy
15. The Spy
I hide myself in a cocoon of normalcy,
a veneer impossibly thin
yet veiling efficiently the torment,
the unreasonable guilt.
I am a spy in my own life,
a substitute for myself,
playing a dangerous game of masquerade.
What if the me that is bound
in the closet of my mind
never returns?
I hide myself in a cocoon of normalcy,
a veneer impossibly thin
yet veiling efficiently the torment,
the unreasonable guilt.
I am a spy in my own life,
a substitute for myself,
playing a dangerous game of masquerade.
What if the me that is bound
in the closet of my mind
never returns?
Nov 28, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 14 | There is Nothing Here
14. There is Nothing Here
There is nothing here,
my beloved,
nothing that indicates
you were,
for a small while,
a part of me.
There are no clothes
that must be put away.
There are no pictures,
no birth certificate.
There is nothing here.
No tombstone,
no memorial,
no ashes.
It is as if you never
existed,
save in my
mind.
There is nothing here
but an agonizing
rent in my
heart.
There is nothing here,
my beloved,
nothing that indicates
you were,
for a small while,
a part of me.
There are no clothes
that must be put away.
There are no pictures,
no birth certificate.
There is nothing here.
No tombstone,
no memorial,
no ashes.
It is as if you never
existed,
save in my
mind.
There is nothing here
but an agonizing
rent in my
heart.
Nov 27, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 13 | Hands
13. Hands
Small hands present me
with
a book,
silent eyes begging that she
be picked up and
read “Hippos Go Berserk”
again.
Large hands clutch
their own book,
escape from the
despair that threatens
to engulf me
when I slow
down
enough to think.
Duty forces acceptance,
the child is lifted
and read
to.
It is a struggle,
performing this
duty
without revealing that,
at the moment,
it is a burden
beyond reckon.
It is a struggle,
and not fair to
the small hands
that lift
Hippos.
Small hands present me
with
a book,
silent eyes begging that she
be picked up and
read “Hippos Go Berserk”
again.
Large hands clutch
their own book,
escape from the
despair that threatens
to engulf me
when I slow
down
enough to think.
Duty forces acceptance,
the child is lifted
and read
to.
It is a struggle,
performing this
duty
without revealing that,
at the moment,
it is a burden
beyond reckon.
It is a struggle,
and not fair to
the small hands
that lift
Hippos.
21 Day Challenge | Day 12 | Yarn Over
12. Yarn Over
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
“So do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?”
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
The pause is as pregnant as I am not.
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
“We had a miscarriage that awful Sunday
when everything went wrong and
I was late to rehearsal.”
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
It is clear she doesn’t know what to say.
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
It’s ok. Neither do I.
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
“So do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?”
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
The pause is as pregnant as I am not.
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
“We had a miscarriage that awful Sunday
when everything went wrong and
I was late to rehearsal.”
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
It is clear she doesn’t know what to say.
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
It’s ok. Neither do I.
Yarn over, hook in stitch,
Yarn over, draw through.
Nov 25, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 11 | I Almost Forgot
11. I Almost Forgot
I almost forgot today.
I took a hot bath without
thinking twice,
drank my tea without comment.
I almost forgot today.
I took a regular multivitamin,
and didn’t notice that it
didn’t
smell like vanilla
as do the prenatal vitamins.
I almost forgot today.
I had a glass of wine with dinner,
its ruby tones did not remind me
of the blood that signaled the end
of the life within me.
I almost forgot today
that I had been pregnant.
And the guilt was nearly overwhelming.
I almost forgot today.
I took a hot bath without
thinking twice,
drank my tea without comment.
I almost forgot today.
I took a regular multivitamin,
and didn’t notice that it
didn’t
smell like vanilla
as do the prenatal vitamins.
I almost forgot today.
I had a glass of wine with dinner,
its ruby tones did not remind me
of the blood that signaled the end
of the life within me.
I almost forgot today
that I had been pregnant.
And the guilt was nearly overwhelming.
21 Day Challenge | Day 10 | Second Child
Second Child
My first child is
a daughter,
adorable,
adoring.
She was
unnaturally kind
and good
last week.
She is
social,
and sociable,
and havoc incarnate.
My second child will not scream
or cry
in despair
or hunger
or need.
My second child will not toss
the books off the shelf
over
and over
again.
My second child will not
request milk when
fishy crackers
are desired.
My second child will not
grab my hand
or stand, arms raised, to be
picked up
at the least opportune time.
My second child is dead.
My first child is
a daughter,
adorable,
adoring.
She was
unnaturally kind
and good
last week.
She is
social,
and sociable,
and havoc incarnate.
My second child will not scream
or cry
in despair
or hunger
or need.
My second child will not toss
the books off the shelf
over
and over
again.
My second child will not
request milk when
fishy crackers
are desired.
My second child will not
grab my hand
or stand, arms raised, to be
picked up
at the least opportune time.
My second child is dead.
Nov 23, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 9 | Thanksgiving, Parts I - III
9. Thanksgiving, Part I
My grandmother died
on the Monday before Thanksgiving.
My grandfather died
on the Monday before Thanksgiving
three years later.
My second child died
two Mondays before Thanksgiving
seven years following.
I begin to wonder
for what I should be giving thanks,
I who am bounded on either side
by death.
Thanksgiving, Part II
Much has been given me,
and I am,
indeed,
very grateful.
I am grateful for my daughter,
all blond curls and flirtatiousness,
grateful for my husband,
arms and heart wrapped firmly around me,
grateful for my home, and family, and friends.
I am so angry though,
furious
even.
I am angry that I will be able to eat without nausea,
without stomach roiling in a progesterone-induced tumult,
angry that I will be able to fill my wineglass,
and my coffee cup,
angry that I will be drawn into conversations
that have nothing to do with my lost baby
but everything to do with living
Thanksgiving, Part III
May it be given me,
to be grateful for the
struggles
that I encounter.
May I be granted
the diligence and
faith
to see past the
despair
to the lesson,
whatever
it maybe.
May I surround my companions
with a sense of
love
and gratitude
and be given the
perseverance
to tread
onward
with a lightened step
and loving
heart.
My grandmother died
on the Monday before Thanksgiving.
My grandfather died
on the Monday before Thanksgiving
three years later.
My second child died
two Mondays before Thanksgiving
seven years following.
I begin to wonder
for what I should be giving thanks,
I who am bounded on either side
by death.
Thanksgiving, Part II
Much has been given me,
and I am,
indeed,
very grateful.
I am grateful for my daughter,
all blond curls and flirtatiousness,
grateful for my husband,
arms and heart wrapped firmly around me,
grateful for my home, and family, and friends.
I am so angry though,
furious
even.
I am angry that I will be able to eat without nausea,
without stomach roiling in a progesterone-induced tumult,
angry that I will be able to fill my wineglass,
and my coffee cup,
angry that I will be drawn into conversations
that have nothing to do with my lost baby
but everything to do with living
Thanksgiving, Part III
May it be given me,
to be grateful for the
struggles
that I encounter.
May I be granted
the diligence and
faith
to see past the
despair
to the lesson,
whatever
it maybe.
May I surround my companions
with a sense of
love
and gratitude
and be given the
perseverance
to tread
onward
with a lightened step
and loving
heart.
21 Day Challenge | Day 8 | Pies
8. Pies
I made two pies today,
rolling the dough,
smoothing it gently into the pie plate,
trimming, then pinching, the edge so carefully,
filling them with the rich orange mixture
that smells of
cinnamon and
mace.
I did not make a baby today,
did not carefully ingest the right nutrients,
smooth the lotion on an expanding belly,
nap happily dreaming in the afternoon,
filling my mind with beautiful
thoughts
of tiny warm body and
infinitesimal hands.
I made two pies today,
rolling the dough,
smoothing it gently into the pie plate,
trimming, then pinching, the edge so carefully,
filling them with the rich orange mixture
that smells of
cinnamon and
mace.
I did not make a baby today,
did not carefully ingest the right nutrients,
smooth the lotion on an expanding belly,
nap happily dreaming in the afternoon,
filling my mind with beautiful
thoughts
of tiny warm body and
infinitesimal hands.
Nov 22, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 7 | Wounds, Comparatively
Wounds, Comparatively
The blood of my body
has almost stopped escaping.
The bleeding of my heart continues unabated.
I cannot quite
comprehend
that my body so easily returns
to its prior state.
It seems wrong, somehow,
that the void in my heart seems so much
sharper
than the void in my womb.
There ought to be more balance.
Unless, of course, it is my body that is
balanced
and my mind and heart
are not.
The blood of my body
has almost stopped escaping.
The bleeding of my heart continues unabated.
I cannot quite
comprehend
that my body so easily returns
to its prior state.
It seems wrong, somehow,
that the void in my heart seems so much
sharper
than the void in my womb.
There ought to be more balance.
Unless, of course, it is my body that is
balanced
and my mind and heart
are not.
Nov 20, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 6 | The Unspoken Interrogative
The Unspoken Interrogative
“How are you doing?”
The tone of voice is patiently caring.
The visage is tolerantly understanding.
The unspoken interrogative is neither.
‘Why aren’t you ‘cured’ yet?’
‘Why aren’t you back to normal?’
‘Must you be so overemotional?’
The unspoken imperative is demanding.
‘Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.’
‘You’re dwelling too much on this.’
‘Get over it, already.’
I, as human as any other, am malleable
in the hands of the fates.
I am as my crises have made me.
I have no answer for the unspoken.
Perhaps, the unspoken deserves no answer.
“How are you doing?”
The tone of voice is patiently caring.
The visage is tolerantly understanding.
The unspoken interrogative is neither.
‘Why aren’t you ‘cured’ yet?’
‘Why aren’t you back to normal?’
‘Must you be so overemotional?’
The unspoken imperative is demanding.
‘Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.’
‘You’re dwelling too much on this.’
‘Get over it, already.’
I, as human as any other, am malleable
in the hands of the fates.
I am as my crises have made me.
I have no answer for the unspoken.
Perhaps, the unspoken deserves no answer.
21 Day Challenge | Day 5 | Morning Munchkins
Morning Munchkins
She stands at the table,
writing a nametag for her child and complaining.
“I am tired,” she says;
“I just want this over with.
Being pregnant sucks.”
She is not talking to me.
I had prepared for the woman
with the 3 month old.
I had forgotten the pregnant one.
I look at the ceiling,
willing the wells dry.
I look at the wall,
anywhere but at the evidence of her discomfort.
I do not throw a tantrum.
I do not throw a block or a toy or my purse.
I do not rant and scream what she cannot possibly understand:
Being pregnant is uncomfortable, yes;
but not being pregnant is far worse.
She stands at the table,
writing a nametag for her child and complaining.
“I am tired,” she says;
“I just want this over with.
Being pregnant sucks.”
She is not talking to me.
I had prepared for the woman
with the 3 month old.
I had forgotten the pregnant one.
I look at the ceiling,
willing the wells dry.
I look at the wall,
anywhere but at the evidence of her discomfort.
I do not throw a tantrum.
I do not throw a block or a toy or my purse.
I do not rant and scream what she cannot possibly understand:
Being pregnant is uncomfortable, yes;
but not being pregnant is far worse.
Nov 19, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 4 | Cry Now
Cry Now
"Try not to be too sad" says someone.
What is, I ask you, "too sad"?
(My daughter has taken her shoes off.)
Should I not rend my clothes, tear my hair,
cover myself in ashes for the child that is no longer?
Should I not weep for the life that is gone?
(My daughter retrieves her shoes from the table.)
Is it not disrespectful to my husband, my daughter,
the child that will not emerge from my womb
to fail to acknowledge our loss?
I will cry now.
I will clutch at my husband's shirt,
bringing his arms around me in desperate need.
I will brokenly bemoan the fates
that have taken from us this child.
I will not be too sad.
(My daughter is talking to her shoes.)
No, I will weep with fury and grief and agony.
I will not be too sad.
"Try not to be too sad" says someone.
What is, I ask you, "too sad"?
(My daughter has taken her shoes off.)
Should I not rend my clothes, tear my hair,
cover myself in ashes for the child that is no longer?
Should I not weep for the life that is gone?
(My daughter retrieves her shoes from the table.)
Is it not disrespectful to my husband, my daughter,
the child that will not emerge from my womb
to fail to acknowledge our loss?
I will cry now.
I will clutch at my husband's shirt,
bringing his arms around me in desperate need.
I will brokenly bemoan the fates
that have taken from us this child.
I will not be too sad.
(My daughter is talking to her shoes.)
No, I will weep with fury and grief and agony.
I will not be too sad.
Nov 18, 2006
A Kindred Spirit
I came across these two passages as I was re-reading Anne of Green Gables tonight and they seemed so apropos to my current situation that I needed to share them. The first, I had been thinking exactly this the other day; the second, just struck me as being so... right for where I am...
In this bit of the story, Matthew Cuthbert (the brother of the brother-sister pair that adopted Anne) has just died. Anne's best friend, Diana, has asked if Anne would like Diana to stay the night.
..."I think you won't misunderstand me when I say that I want to be alone. I'm not afraid. I haven't been alone one minute since it happened -- and I want to be. I want to be quite silent and quiet and try to realize it. I can't realize it. Half the time it seems to me that Matthew can't be dead; and the other half it seems as if he must have been dead for a long time and I've had this horrible dull ache ever since."
Later, Marilla (the sister of the adoptive pair) comes in.
"Oh, just let me cry, Marilla," sobbed Anne. "The tears don't hurt me like that ache did. Stay here for a little while with me and keep your arm round me -- so. I couldn't have Diana stay, she's good and kind and sweet -- but it's not her story -- she's outside of it and she couldn't come close enough to my heart to help me. ..."
In this bit of the story, Matthew Cuthbert (the brother of the brother-sister pair that adopted Anne) has just died. Anne's best friend, Diana, has asked if Anne would like Diana to stay the night.
..."I think you won't misunderstand me when I say that I want to be alone. I'm not afraid. I haven't been alone one minute since it happened -- and I want to be. I want to be quite silent and quiet and try to realize it. I can't realize it. Half the time it seems to me that Matthew can't be dead; and the other half it seems as if he must have been dead for a long time and I've had this horrible dull ache ever since."
Later, Marilla (the sister of the adoptive pair) comes in.
"Oh, just let me cry, Marilla," sobbed Anne. "The tears don't hurt me like that ache did. Stay here for a little while with me and keep your arm round me -- so. I couldn't have Diana stay, she's good and kind and sweet -- but it's not her story -- she's outside of it and she couldn't come close enough to my heart to help me. ..."
21 Day Challenge | Day 3 | Lament
Lament
I do not know who
I am.
I know I am
loved.
But this realization comes too late.
I am already
gone.
I do not know who
I am.
I know I am
loved.
But this realization comes too late.
I am already
gone.
Nov 17, 2006
21 Day Challenge | Day 2 | A Fluttering of Dust
Adrift, I float
through
a fog,
a mist so thick, I cannot see the banks,
the trees,
the sky.
There is nothing,
nothing around me,
nothing in me,
nothing of me.
I am transparent,
a fluttering of dust,
and am soon gone.
through
a fog,
a mist so thick, I cannot see the banks,
the trees,
the sky.
There is nothing,
nothing around me,
nothing in me,
nothing of me.
I am transparent,
a fluttering of dust,
and am soon gone.
Nov 16, 2006
21 Day Challenge: Something Wrong
There is something
wrong.
Something is
not right.
Anxious heartbeats expand and flee
into the night.
Though they escape,
I am pinioned.
Trapped by grey walls,
lab coats, sorrowed glances.
Hold me, please, someone?
I do not want to know.
I do
want to know.
I am scared
of the
something
that is
wrong.
wrong.
Something is
not right.
Anxious heartbeats expand and flee
into the night.
Though they escape,
I am pinioned.
Trapped by grey walls,
lab coats, sorrowed glances.
Hold me, please, someone?
I do not want to know.
I do
want to know.
I am scared
of the
something
that is
wrong.
A Decision
I have been mulling doing one of those "21 day chall3nge" things. You know the type... or maybe you don't... well, anyway, it is a challenge where you push yourself to do something you wouldn't normally do for 21 days.
I have been tossing around the idea of forcing myself to write a poem a day and illustrate it with a picture taken that day. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't manage to get the picture uploaded every day, particularly given how difficult Blogger can be with uploading pics. Still, I'm thinking that forcing myself to write will be good therapy for losing the baby. I'm pretty sure it will help me both write more (duh) and work through the emotions running rampant.
So, I am announcing my 21 Day Challenge: Poetry (and photos when I can). The first one will be posted shortly.
I have been tossing around the idea of forcing myself to write a poem a day and illustrate it with a picture taken that day. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't manage to get the picture uploaded every day, particularly given how difficult Blogger can be with uploading pics. Still, I'm thinking that forcing myself to write will be good therapy for losing the baby. I'm pretty sure it will help me both write more (duh) and work through the emotions running rampant.
So, I am announcing my 21 Day Challenge: Poetry (and photos when I can). The first one will be posted shortly.
Nov 15, 2006
Everything We Got, We Got the Hard Way
The hardest part of this entire ordeal, I believe, is that there is no public recognition of the loss. There is no wake, no funeral, no gravesite to visit. It happened early enough for us that we don't even know if our deceased child was a boy or a girl. There is no name to etch into a permanent memorial.
Many people, typically those who have not gone through it, treat it as a medical issue and nothing more. To them, it is no different than breaking your leg skiing. They do not comprehend the agonizing clarity of my understanding that this was my baby. This was John Sevier or Evelyn Ann. This was Katie's sister or brother. John's and my daughter or son.
One coworker emailed me "try not to be too sad". Um, excuse me? And just how would you suggest I go about doing that? It strikes me, too, as being disrespectful to my husband, my daughter, and my baby. On top of that, what is "too sad"? Would she have written someone who lost their 1 year old "try not to be too sad"?
I want to thank everyone here who sent their thoughts and condolences and hugs and prayers; your messages were much more thoughtful and considerate. It makes it much easier to bear when other people are helping carrying the burden and not adding to it. I really appreciate each and every one of you.
Many people, typically those who have not gone through it, treat it as a medical issue and nothing more. To them, it is no different than breaking your leg skiing. They do not comprehend the agonizing clarity of my understanding that this was my baby. This was John Sevier or Evelyn Ann. This was Katie's sister or brother. John's and my daughter or son.
One coworker emailed me "try not to be too sad". Um, excuse me? And just how would you suggest I go about doing that? It strikes me, too, as being disrespectful to my husband, my daughter, and my baby. On top of that, what is "too sad"? Would she have written someone who lost their 1 year old "try not to be too sad"?
I want to thank everyone here who sent their thoughts and condolences and hugs and prayers; your messages were much more thoughtful and considerate. It makes it much easier to bear when other people are helping carrying the burden and not adding to it. I really appreciate each and every one of you.
Nov 12, 2006
Steal Away Home, I Ain't Got Long To Stay Here
Started bleeding yesterday, called the OB's office. On-call doctor tells me not to worry about it and just take it easy. (What a 'tude that guy had too.)
Cramping and bleeding more heavily today. Called my OB's office tonight. Fortunately, he himself was on-call and came down to meet me at the ER.
The baby ... the fetus. The fetus had not developed at all in the last week (should have doubled in size) and there was no fetal heartbeat.
I knew what that ultrasound was going to show. I knew from the time I started bleeding yesterday that the fetus was gone. In reality, I think I knew long before that but didn't really want to admit it. I stood in choir today singing "Steal Away" and I just knew in my heart that I was no longer pregnant.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go bawl my eyes out, take some pain meds, and go to bed and read awhile in a vain attempt to distract myself from the death of my would-be child.
Steal away
Steal away
Steal away to Jesus
Steal away
Steal away home
I ain't got long to stay here.
My Lord calls me
He calls me by the thunder
The trumpet sounds withina my soul
I ain't got long to stay here.
Steal away
Steal away
Steal away to Jesus
Steal away
Steal away home
I ain't got long to stay here.
Cramping and bleeding more heavily today. Called my OB's office tonight. Fortunately, he himself was on-call and came down to meet me at the ER.
The baby ... the fetus. The fetus had not developed at all in the last week (should have doubled in size) and there was no fetal heartbeat.
I knew what that ultrasound was going to show. I knew from the time I started bleeding yesterday that the fetus was gone. In reality, I think I knew long before that but didn't really want to admit it. I stood in choir today singing "Steal Away" and I just knew in my heart that I was no longer pregnant.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go bawl my eyes out, take some pain meds, and go to bed and read awhile in a vain attempt to distract myself from the death of my would-be child.
Steal away
Steal away
Steal away to Jesus
Steal away
Steal away home
I ain't got long to stay here.
My Lord calls me
He calls me by the thunder
The trumpet sounds withina my soul
I ain't got long to stay here.
Steal away
Steal away
Steal away to Jesus
Steal away
Steal away home
I ain't got long to stay here.
Nov 11, 2006
I Was a Jewish Mother in Another Lifetime
You'd think that, this being my second pregnancy, I would be more calm about it. Nope. In fact, I think I'm more nervous this time than the last time. Maybe it's because I know so much more now about what can go wrong.
Somehow, the typical worries of having a second child (how will Little Girl adapt, do we really have the energy to have 2, what if we get a colicky baby this time, etc.) aren't bugging me nearly as much as the irrational ones. I think this all relates to the fact that we had a much easier time getting pregnant this time. It took only a year (and not 3+). It just feels too easy.
Of course, I'm probably jinxing myself by saying that. We'll probably wind up with twins or something (the chance of which goes up as the mother ages). Ack!! Can you even imagine??
P.S.
I worry, too, that my posts aren't more intellectual and are more of an emotional burp. Sorry about that!
P.P.S.
Word of advice: If you are mourning a pet, don't go cruising at petfinders.com until you know you're ready to bring another one home. Or, if you decide to anyway, have a large box of tissues at hand.
- I worry that I'm not queasy all over the place.
- I worry that I'm jinxing my baby by being secretly relieved that I'm not queasy all over the place.
- I worry that, when I went to the OB for the first time, the baby was so small he thinks we were a week off on the conception date.
- I worry that he could barely see the baby even with an internal ultrasound.
- I worry that my age is going to be an even greater factor this time in the prenatal development (I'll be 40 in April).
Somehow, the typical worries of having a second child (how will Little Girl adapt, do we really have the energy to have 2, what if we get a colicky baby this time, etc.) aren't bugging me nearly as much as the irrational ones. I think this all relates to the fact that we had a much easier time getting pregnant this time. It took only a year (and not 3+). It just feels too easy.
Of course, I'm probably jinxing myself by saying that. We'll probably wind up with twins or something (the chance of which goes up as the mother ages). Ack!! Can you even imagine??
P.S.
I worry, too, that my posts aren't more intellectual and are more of an emotional burp. Sorry about that!
P.P.S.
Word of advice: If you are mourning a pet, don't go cruising at petfinders.com until you know you're ready to bring another one home. Or, if you decide to anyway, have a large box of tissues at hand.
Oct 31, 2006
N11J9T, You Are Cleared For Takeoff Runway 31
Take that, Blogger! Be difficult about uploading photos; I'll find a different way to get around you... mwahahahahahahahahaha!!
Welcome to Go Girl Aiation! We hope you enjoy your flight today.
You'll be flying a homebuilt aircraft...
But don't worry, it's been preflighted extensively.
N11J9T is certified for single pilot operations. Your captain today will be Katie Kelly. She may look young but she has extensive time in type.
So buckle up and thanks again for traveling with Go Girl Aviation!
Welcome to Go Girl Aiation! We hope you enjoy your flight today.
You'll be flying a homebuilt aircraft...
But don't worry, it's been preflighted extensively.
N11J9T is certified for single pilot operations. Your captain today will be Katie Kelly. She may look young but she has extensive time in type.
So buckle up and thanks again for traveling with Go Girl Aviation!
Oct 28, 2006
I Will NEVER Do THAT Again
I should warn you right now: I feel a rant coming on. For a rant-free zone, see the last entry (Harriet's Music Meme).
~~~~
I should have known better. I felt it coming -- like fall creeping in around the edges of summer, a hint of flame at the edges of green leaves whispering of crisp days and windy nights. A friend whose desperation to find a "man" became so palpable that I ignored a long-standing rule: Never, EVER hook anyone up (The Rule).
Now, in general, this isn't an issue for me. Basically, I know very, very few single guys and most of the single guys I know I wouldn't hook up with a friend even if it wasn't proscribed by The Rule. Single Friend is 41, divorced, a person for whom sex is almost an overriding concern. She complains. A lot. About being single. About how all men suck. About how she never meets any decent guys. So, when I'm another friend's jewelery store and meet her UPS guy who seems very nice and is single, I get his email addy for Single Friend and pass it along with what information I was able to gather in the 5 minutes he was in the store.
She contacts him by email, he emails back, she emails back, he calls. She complains to me about him on ICQ (while she's still on the phone with him): he seems nice but he's not this, he's not that, he's cheap, he lives with his parents, yada yada yada. For cryin' out loud, if he's not for you, just tell him so gently and excuse yourself. Don't bitch to me about it while he's still on the phone; that's just tacky.
The kicker was when she cast aspersions my way for telling her he was tall when he's only 5'8". Well, excu-u-use me!, he looked tall from where I was sitting! And as for living with his parents, so was John when I started dating him. You know, I understand and accept that people I hook up may not hit it off; it's to be expected. I don't care if you don't want to date him! But don't beg me to hook you up and then beat me up because the guy isn't a cross between Warren Buffet and Hugh Jackman!
I am beginning to realize that her being single has nothing to do with her not meeting guys and everything to do with not taking responsibility for her own happiness.
And I find that very depressing.
Because I can introduce her to guys (although I won't anymore) but I can't change who she is.
~~~~
I should have known better. I felt it coming -- like fall creeping in around the edges of summer, a hint of flame at the edges of green leaves whispering of crisp days and windy nights. A friend whose desperation to find a "man" became so palpable that I ignored a long-standing rule: Never, EVER hook anyone up (The Rule).
Now, in general, this isn't an issue for me. Basically, I know very, very few single guys and most of the single guys I know I wouldn't hook up with a friend even if it wasn't proscribed by The Rule. Single Friend is 41, divorced, a person for whom sex is almost an overriding concern. She complains. A lot. About being single. About how all men suck. About how she never meets any decent guys. So, when I'm another friend's jewelery store and meet her UPS guy who seems very nice and is single, I get his email addy for Single Friend and pass it along with what information I was able to gather in the 5 minutes he was in the store.
She contacts him by email, he emails back, she emails back, he calls. She complains to me about him on ICQ (while she's still on the phone with him): he seems nice but he's not this, he's not that, he's cheap, he lives with his parents, yada yada yada. For cryin' out loud, if he's not for you, just tell him so gently and excuse yourself. Don't bitch to me about it while he's still on the phone; that's just tacky.
The kicker was when she cast aspersions my way for telling her he was tall when he's only 5'8". Well, excu-u-use me!, he looked tall from where I was sitting! And as for living with his parents, so was John when I started dating him. You know, I understand and accept that people I hook up may not hit it off; it's to be expected. I don't care if you don't want to date him! But don't beg me to hook you up and then beat me up because the guy isn't a cross between Warren Buffet and Hugh Jackman!
I am beginning to realize that her being single has nothing to do with her not meeting guys and everything to do with not taking responsibility for her own happiness.
And I find that very depressing.
Because I can introduce her to guys (although I won't anymore) but I can't change who she is.
Oct 27, 2006
Harriet's Music Meme
Alrighty, I read so I got tagged and it does seem like an interesting sort of expose so here it is. Bear in mind, though, that I don't have a whole lot *in* my iTunes yet so there is a significant "skew" factor here.
Alllllllrighty then. Guess the makers of this movie will be taking some significant creative license...
Tag, you're it!
IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD YOUR SOUNDTRACK BE?
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play.
4. For every question, type the song that's playing.
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool.
Opening Credits: Kingston Trio: The Tijuana Jail -- Oh dear, guess I'm not getting off to a good start here, huh?
First Day At School: Mighty, Mighty Bosstones: 1-2-8 -- "They did something which meant something and that got them some attention..."
Falling In Love: Peter Gallagher from the New cast recording of Guys and Dolls: Luck Be a Lady -- Hmph.
Breaking Up: Chicago Soundtrack: Billy Flynn -- I suppose one might need an attorney when breaking up, even in high school these days.
Prom: West Side Story OBC recording: Tonight "Today, the minutes seem like hours, the hours go so slowly and still the sky is light..."
Life's OK: Cassandra Wilson: Solomon Sang "And when he stood up in the temple, Solomon sang." A beautiful song from a stunning album.
Mental Breakdown: Scully's Vision of Mulder from episode 8x14 This is Not Happening, Mark Snow, composer. Very, very appropriate.
Driving: Ella Fitzgerald: Our Love is Here To Stay... ok, nope, except that I do love driving and don't really see that changing.
Flashback: The Proclaimers: What Makes You Cry -- I can buy that one.
Getting Back Together: Mighty, Mighty Bosstones: You Gotta Go! -- ROTFL!!! "... you lost my cat and broke my TV! " You really have to hear this one (YouTube video on the link above), if only to appreciate the incredible inappropriateness of it - that and it's a very funny song worth listening to.
Wedding: Nick Cave: Red Right Hand -- That would certainly have made an odd sermon... "You're just a microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed by his red right hand."
Birth of Child: 3 Doors Down: Loser -- Well, Katie being born did rather make me feel inadequate to the task of being a parent...
Final Battle: Heather Dale: Tarnished Silver Pretty song. More of an "after the battle" kind of thing though.
Death Scene: Wicked OBC recording: Dear Old Shiz -- Note to self: avoid falling houses
Funeral Song: The Proclaimers: The Light -- Actually, not half inappropriate.
Alllllllrighty then. Guess the makers of this movie will be taking some significant creative license...
Tag, you're it!
Oct 24, 2006
semper crescis aut descrescis
I buried Norm's ashes this past weekend. I sprinkled him amidst the loose dirt in a hole I dug to plant the tiny maple tree I grew from seed on my front steps. He's guarding the property now, at the back lot line, as he did when he was hale and in his prime. And, thus, the family decreases.
Yet, the family also increases. We are expecting another baby in June. This child was conceived only a day or two before Norm left us. I can't help but wonder at the timing. Was he here to help us through until our family was complete? Did he hang on until he knew we would be alright? Or is it all merely coincidental?
Fortune wheels us down and up in her capriciousness.
Yet, the family also increases. We are expecting another baby in June. This child was conceived only a day or two before Norm left us. I can't help but wonder at the timing. Was he here to help us through until our family was complete? Did he hang on until he knew we would be alright? Or is it all merely coincidental?
Fortune wheels us down and up in her capriciousness.
Oct 13, 2006
Dire Predictions
I was talking to the girl that sits next to me in choir tonight. She's 22, an administrative assistant for a local manufacturer. She's had 7 or 8 traffic tickets. 7 or 8!! In what can't be more than 7 years!! Holy, freakin' sh*t!!
And I thought my husband was a leadfoot.
(Of course, *he* believes that speed limits are unconstitutional. His argument? "If I can safely drive 85, I should be allowed to." The impracticality of this argument seems to evade him (probably deliberately). Everyone who drives that fast thinks they're driving safely. And, clearly, from the state of our roads today, they're not.)
Her latest ticket is for doing 50 in a 30 zone. She claims she couldn't possibly have been going that fast as she was following a minivan (or an SUV, she wasn't quite clear on which) that was farting along at the speed limit. She claims the officer was headed the opposite direction, saw her talking on her cellphone (sans headset, of course), pulled a u-ie, and followed her for a bit (whilst she was still following the mommycar) before pulling her over.
Her indignance at being nabbed for speeding when she was really breaking another law altogether was really very funny. It scares me though. This bright, and very, very talented, young woman will probably be dead before she hits 30.
I wonder if her mother knows she drives like this. I wonder if she worries herself sick.
And I thought my husband was a leadfoot.
(Of course, *he* believes that speed limits are unconstitutional. His argument? "If I can safely drive 85, I should be allowed to." The impracticality of this argument seems to evade him (probably deliberately). Everyone who drives that fast thinks they're driving safely. And, clearly, from the state of our roads today, they're not.)
Her latest ticket is for doing 50 in a 30 zone. She claims she couldn't possibly have been going that fast as she was following a minivan (or an SUV, she wasn't quite clear on which) that was farting along at the speed limit. She claims the officer was headed the opposite direction, saw her talking on her cellphone (sans headset, of course), pulled a u-ie, and followed her for a bit (whilst she was still following the mommycar) before pulling her over.
Her indignance at being nabbed for speeding when she was really breaking another law altogether was really very funny. It scares me though. This bright, and very, very talented, young woman will probably be dead before she hits 30.
I wonder if her mother knows she drives like this. I wonder if she worries herself sick.
Oct 7, 2006
Survival of the Fastest... or Most Fashionable
Depending on whether you are Katie's age or mine!
I ran around yesterday morning - where are my good jeans?? I need my good jeans!! John, can you watch the baby for a second while I find my other shoes? I need to get some makeup on!! Crap, my hair looks dorky like this -- I guess I'll have to do the mommy ponytail thing. Where's Katie? Oh, ok, she's chewing belts in the closet. Damn, where is the back for this earring?! Mascara, mascara...
John stood there, tying his tie, a look of complete bemusement on his face. Aren't you just going to town hall?
But this is Connecticut - people are very obsessed with appearance here and I don't want to look like a complete dork.
John: You're not a dork.
(patiently - or, rather, as patiently as I can manage whilst imitating a decapitated chicken) Doesn't really matter if I am, only if I look like I am! Katie, please stop chewing the humidifier cord! Now!
~~~~
As sad as it is, I'm glad I took the time to put makeup on instead of going out as the sloven I usually am. I'm glad I took the time to find my nice shoes instead of wearing my sneakers and the nice jeans. The other women were nicely dressed for the most part and they *all* - even the mother of a 2 year old and a 3 month old - were wearing makeup. Connecticut seems much more obsessed with appearance than anywhere else I've lived. I don't know why. I decry it's superficiality and egotism but, ironically, in trying to ensure my appearance conforms, I am just as culpable as the fashion arbiters.
~~~~
The place was a madhouse of small children running rampant. Katie didn't know quite what to do - a lot of stimuli for an only child that stays at home all day with a somewhat taciturn mother. I think she liked it though. By the end she was willing to crawl away from me for a toy she had her eye on. Katie was one of the youngest (indeed, she's barely old enough to be in the class) and the craft was a bit beyond her but she seemed to have a good time anyway staring at all the other kids.
We have 7 more classes or something like that. I believe she'll be a lot more into it by the end of the session. I also think it's good for her to be exposed to other kids and maybe have to learn to share and take turns with other children.
I ran around yesterday morning - where are my good jeans?? I need my good jeans!! John, can you watch the baby for a second while I find my other shoes? I need to get some makeup on!! Crap, my hair looks dorky like this -- I guess I'll have to do the mommy ponytail thing. Where's Katie? Oh, ok, she's chewing belts in the closet. Damn, where is the back for this earring?! Mascara, mascara...
John stood there, tying his tie, a look of complete bemusement on his face. Aren't you just going to town hall?
But this is Connecticut - people are very obsessed with appearance here and I don't want to look like a complete dork.
John: You're not a dork.
(patiently - or, rather, as patiently as I can manage whilst imitating a decapitated chicken) Doesn't really matter if I am, only if I look like I am! Katie, please stop chewing the humidifier cord! Now!
~~~~
As sad as it is, I'm glad I took the time to put makeup on instead of going out as the sloven I usually am. I'm glad I took the time to find my nice shoes instead of wearing my sneakers and the nice jeans. The other women were nicely dressed for the most part and they *all* - even the mother of a 2 year old and a 3 month old - were wearing makeup. Connecticut seems much more obsessed with appearance than anywhere else I've lived. I don't know why. I decry it's superficiality and egotism but, ironically, in trying to ensure my appearance conforms, I am just as culpable as the fashion arbiters.
~~~~
The place was a madhouse of small children running rampant. Katie didn't know quite what to do - a lot of stimuli for an only child that stays at home all day with a somewhat taciturn mother. I think she liked it though. By the end she was willing to crawl away from me for a toy she had her eye on. Katie was one of the youngest (indeed, she's barely old enough to be in the class) and the craft was a bit beyond her but she seemed to have a good time anyway staring at all the other kids.
We have 7 more classes or something like that. I believe she'll be a lot more into it by the end of the session. I also think it's good for her to be exposed to other kids and maybe have to learn to share and take turns with other children.
Oct 5, 2006
Fear of Fridays
It's not a fear of Fridays in general, mind you -- I like Fridays. Just a fear of tomorrow.
Why, you ask? Ok, you didn't ask but you're still reading so I'm going to assume you want to know.
Morning Munchkins
9:30 - 10:15
Mortensen Community Center
That's why tomorrow is filling me with trepidation. What? You don't think a room full of rugrats and their keepers is scary?
Those of you who (thank you!) have been reading for a while know that social situations involving either large groups of people or people I don't know make me uneasy at best. Tomorrow, I'm faced with both. I can't show it either because I don't want Katie to pick up on my nervousness.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
I think.
Why, you ask? Ok, you didn't ask but you're still reading so I'm going to assume you want to know.
Morning Munchkins
9:30 - 10:15
Mortensen Community Center
That's why tomorrow is filling me with trepidation. What? You don't think a room full of rugrats and their keepers is scary?
Those of you who (thank you!) have been reading for a while know that social situations involving either large groups of people or people I don't know make me uneasy at best. Tomorrow, I'm faced with both. I can't show it either because I don't want Katie to pick up on my nervousness.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
I think.
Sep 27, 2006
Sep 22, 2006
Brooke David Rosenbaum
Since I posted my tribute to Brooke as part of the 2,996 Project, I was fortunate enough to be contacted by his stepmother. She kindly shared with me more of Brooke's personality and background than I was able to glean from the online resources I had used. I am pleased to be able to repost my tribute here. Please take the time to read this (you can make it larger by clicking on it) as it is far more representative of Brooke's life than the previous one. My sincere thanks to Fern Rosenbaum. I wish you peace and joy in the happy memories you have of Brooke.
Sep 15, 2006
An Unusual Community
Several years ago, shortly after we moved into our house, our town suffered a microburst (a sort of super-but-very-localized thunderstorm for those who aren't familiar with it) which knocked power out across much of the town. It was probably one of the hottest spells we'd had in quite a while and no one seemed to want to stay inside. I was struck then at the sense of community the storm had created. Everyone was out and about, wandering up and down, chatting with neighbors or perfect strangers.
I have been struck these last several days by the number of people out and about wandering from blog to blog in response to the 2,996 project. I am feeling the same feeling of connection I did after that storm and it is heartwarming, as it was then.
No, the terrorists didn't win. Yes, they slaughtered 2,996 innocent people. Yes, they took our innocence. But, you know, as we gathered in our solitude to remember those 2,996, somehow a more wonderful thing happened than a simple tribute; a sense of community burgeoned, swelling to encompass so many.
You who would destroy any who disagree with you, remember this: godliness is not limited to a single religion. But, truly, there is only one faith: faith that the love that is God will see us through the worst and will cleave us together as surely as the destroyers struggle to leave us riven.
I have been struck these last several days by the number of people out and about wandering from blog to blog in response to the 2,996 project. I am feeling the same feeling of connection I did after that storm and it is heartwarming, as it was then.
No, the terrorists didn't win. Yes, they slaughtered 2,996 innocent people. Yes, they took our innocence. But, you know, as we gathered in our solitude to remember those 2,996, somehow a more wonderful thing happened than a simple tribute; a sense of community burgeoned, swelling to encompass so many.
You who would destroy any who disagree with you, remember this: godliness is not limited to a single religion. But, truly, there is only one faith: faith that the love that is God will see us through the worst and will cleave us together as surely as the destroyers struggle to leave us riven.
Sep 11, 2006
Sep 3, 2006
Vacation
Time's a tickin' down. We leave for the Jersey shore on Monday. Vacationing with a child is so different than vacationing as childfree adults. I was at the grocery store shopping today -- trying to find foods that would work for a nearly 1 year old infant in a B&B setting (i.e., no microwave, no stove). I think she's going to be eating a lot of cheese cubes (and a lot of peaches to counteract the cheese!). It started me trying to distill for myself what, exactly, makes a vacation.
Having come to no satisfactory answer, I'm coming to you all.
For you, what makes the perfect vacation? Traveling? Staying home? Is it seeing new things or visiting familiar places? Is it resting or recreating or accomplishing things you can't during work/school times? Is it eating good food, drinking good wine? Would you have your kids with you? Your spouse? Friends? Or would you prefer solitude? Is the setting important or could you be anywhere?
Now, here's another question... How close are your vacations to your ideal?
Having come to no satisfactory answer, I'm coming to you all.
For you, what makes the perfect vacation? Traveling? Staying home? Is it seeing new things or visiting familiar places? Is it resting or recreating or accomplishing things you can't during work/school times? Is it eating good food, drinking good wine? Would you have your kids with you? Your spouse? Friends? Or would you prefer solitude? Is the setting important or could you be anywhere?
Now, here's another question... How close are your vacations to your ideal?
Aug 28, 2006
On Blogs and Blogging and Being Oneself
I was just reading a friend's blog and she put a disclaimer before her most recent post saying, basically, it's my blog not yours and I'll post what I like.
I've read this a lot throughout the blogging world and what amazes me is that people feel forced to say it. Well, no, that isn't really accurate... what amazes is NOT that people feel forced to say it but at the number of people who launch tirades about what people have written in their blogs. You'd think some of these blog entries were Helen of Troy's face for the number of fiery missives they engender.
Once upon a time (no, not even as far back as ancient Greece and Rome), my mother's inviolable rule reigned: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Personally, I would extend this to "If you can't say something, or constructive, don't say anything at all."
Now, I will admit that, in some situations, keeping my trap closed can be difficult. I am really quite a warlike person when my own or the downtrodden are involved. Not in the blog world though. If I think the person is an idiot, I turn my attention elsewhere. Why waste time responding to bilge?
Some say, and they are partially correct, that blogging is a public forum, akin to standing on a soapbox at the corner of Park and Main shouting one's opinions to the world. Yes, blogging is semi-public (take that soapbox and multiply thousandfold - public but not); yes, people are putting their thoughts out to the world. It's not a soapbox, at least most aren't. Most blogs are simply an attempt to keep in touch with the world. To reach out to someone, somewhere; to connect. To divine the greater meaning in one's words and actions by allowing them to flow onto the virtual page.
The reactive vitriol being spewed is the virtual equivalent of throwing someone's drink in their face at a cocktail party.
It ruins the good time had by all and is a waste of good vodka.
Put that energy into bettering the world, people.
I've read this a lot throughout the blogging world and what amazes me is that people feel forced to say it. Well, no, that isn't really accurate... what amazes is NOT that people feel forced to say it but at the number of people who launch tirades about what people have written in their blogs. You'd think some of these blog entries were Helen of Troy's face for the number of fiery missives they engender.
Once upon a time (no, not even as far back as ancient Greece and Rome), my mother's inviolable rule reigned: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Personally, I would extend this to "If you can't say something, or constructive, don't say anything at all."
Now, I will admit that, in some situations, keeping my trap closed can be difficult. I am really quite a warlike person when my own or the downtrodden are involved. Not in the blog world though. If I think the person is an idiot, I turn my attention elsewhere. Why waste time responding to bilge?
Some say, and they are partially correct, that blogging is a public forum, akin to standing on a soapbox at the corner of Park and Main shouting one's opinions to the world. Yes, blogging is semi-public (take that soapbox and multiply thousandfold - public but not); yes, people are putting their thoughts out to the world. It's not a soapbox, at least most aren't. Most blogs are simply an attempt to keep in touch with the world. To reach out to someone, somewhere; to connect. To divine the greater meaning in one's words and actions by allowing them to flow onto the virtual page.
The reactive vitriol being spewed is the virtual equivalent of throwing someone's drink in their face at a cocktail party.
It ruins the good time had by all and is a waste of good vodka.
Put that energy into bettering the world, people.
Aug 22, 2006
Tempus Fugit... et Fugit, et Fugit, et Fugit
And suddenly nearly a week's gone by since I last posted and people start worrying! Sorry for worrying you, JT, but thank you for being concerned!
My life has been singularly unblogworthy recently. I have been tied up on the devil's own project for work which has involved many extra hours, hours which come very late indeed. The project (a policies and procedures manual) is now up and running and I am doing the happy ThankGodThat'sDone dance whenever I'm not looking at what's accumulated in my inbox over the last week. The manual is a source of some pride, however, in that my co-worker and I won a fight with the powers that be for once. This new manual is, finally, not to be distributed in a paper version but is an HTML document with all the exhibits fully linked. Each chapter is searchable and we will shortly have the entire manual searchable from one location. In my view, this can't help but make a ponderous piece of text a lot more usable (the paper versions never had indexes) and much more easily revised as needed.
As I mentioned at one point, I'm now working primarily from 8 to midnight. Fortunately, I'm a night person. I am much more effective at 10 pm than 10 am. This is a better schedule, I think, in that it allows me to be more fully present with the baby during the day. Unfortunately, it goes against my basic nature. It's hard to play first and work later when one is very solidly in the work first, play later camp. Still, I believe my stress level has gone down. If I can manage to get an hour of work in during the afternoon nap and allow myself an hour's worth of time to play over my work period, I can get through this, I believe.
I have also been busily helping my parents get settled in their new home. In all the time since graduate school, I have never lived less than 350 miles from my parents so it is quite the novelty to have them less than 5 miles away. So far so good, but it's early days yet. Katie is loving the attention and it's nice to have some adult conversation during the day even if it is a debate about removing window treatments and furniture placement. Or a godawful trip to Ikea where I spent the entire day (from 9 am to 5:45 pm plus an hour either side for travel) parenting my mother... "Put that back, we're not buying that. You're supposed to be looking at cupboards." It was a very long and very trying day but we survived. What I may not survive are the constant boxes of stuff that she keeps sneaking into my house because she doesn't have room for them, doesn't need them, doesn't want them, but doesn't want to throw out either.
So, that's my unblogworthy recent life in the cliched nutshell: too much work, too much stuff, not enough time or space. Aren't you thrilled? I know I am. Yeah. That's the ticket. ;)
My life has been singularly unblogworthy recently. I have been tied up on the devil's own project for work which has involved many extra hours, hours which come very late indeed. The project (a policies and procedures manual) is now up and running and I am doing the happy ThankGodThat'sDone dance whenever I'm not looking at what's accumulated in my inbox over the last week. The manual is a source of some pride, however, in that my co-worker and I won a fight with the powers that be for once. This new manual is, finally, not to be distributed in a paper version but is an HTML document with all the exhibits fully linked. Each chapter is searchable and we will shortly have the entire manual searchable from one location. In my view, this can't help but make a ponderous piece of text a lot more usable (the paper versions never had indexes) and much more easily revised as needed.
As I mentioned at one point, I'm now working primarily from 8 to midnight. Fortunately, I'm a night person. I am much more effective at 10 pm than 10 am. This is a better schedule, I think, in that it allows me to be more fully present with the baby during the day. Unfortunately, it goes against my basic nature. It's hard to play first and work later when one is very solidly in the work first, play later camp. Still, I believe my stress level has gone down. If I can manage to get an hour of work in during the afternoon nap and allow myself an hour's worth of time to play over my work period, I can get through this, I believe.
I have also been busily helping my parents get settled in their new home. In all the time since graduate school, I have never lived less than 350 miles from my parents so it is quite the novelty to have them less than 5 miles away. So far so good, but it's early days yet. Katie is loving the attention and it's nice to have some adult conversation during the day even if it is a debate about removing window treatments and furniture placement. Or a godawful trip to Ikea where I spent the entire day (from 9 am to 5:45 pm plus an hour either side for travel) parenting my mother... "Put that back, we're not buying that. You're supposed to be looking at cupboards." It was a very long and very trying day but we survived. What I may not survive are the constant boxes of stuff that she keeps sneaking into my house because she doesn't have room for them, doesn't need them, doesn't want them, but doesn't want to throw out either.
So, that's my unblogworthy recent life in the cliched nutshell: too much work, too much stuff, not enough time or space. Aren't you thrilled? I know I am. Yeah. That's the ticket. ;)
Aug 17, 2006
Quick Book Tag
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
I saw this on Graymama's blog and #5 made me laugh so I'm posting it here too.
None of the books closest to me have a page 123.
The closest book to me is the score of Vivaldi's Gloria which goes up to page 64. The text on page 64 reads: "Cum Sancto Spiritu in gloria Dei Patris. Amen."
What? A score doesn't count as a book? Ok, I'm reaching down beside my chair... I feel a book, I know there's one there... just can't quite get my fingers on it... Aha! Let's see... Oooh, it's Spot Goes to the Farm by Eric Hill. With a grand total of 22 pages. The text on the last page is... "Did Dad show you the piglets, Spot? Yes, and then I found some kittens to show dad!"
Still not cutting it, huh? I think I left a "real" book on the kitchen island... hold on... Oh, I don't have to go that far. On the other side of the room is "Because I said so!" 366 Insightful and Thought-Provoking Reflections on Parenting and Family Life by John Rosemond. I'm pretty sure this has a page 123... Ok... fifth, sixth, and seventh sentences: "The second way of going before is to run interference. The consequence of this is that one's children have no reason to follow. Rather, they have every reason to sit on their duffs and wait for the parent to solve their problems."
Well, that was kind of dull, wasn't it? I'm going after that book on the island after all... It's a mystery and mostly likely a lot more fun.
"Can't wait. Hubba-hubba! Who's the moppet in the tight blouse?" From Something Rotten (a Thursday Next novel) by Jasper Fforde.
Ironically, I really am surrounded by books... just not very lengthy ones where I'm sitting!
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
I saw this on Graymama's blog and #5 made me laugh so I'm posting it here too.
None of the books closest to me have a page 123.
The closest book to me is the score of Vivaldi's Gloria which goes up to page 64. The text on page 64 reads: "Cum Sancto Spiritu in gloria Dei Patris. Amen."
What? A score doesn't count as a book? Ok, I'm reaching down beside my chair... I feel a book, I know there's one there... just can't quite get my fingers on it... Aha! Let's see... Oooh, it's Spot Goes to the Farm by Eric Hill. With a grand total of 22 pages. The text on the last page is... "Did Dad show you the piglets, Spot? Yes, and then I found some kittens to show dad!"
Still not cutting it, huh? I think I left a "real" book on the kitchen island... hold on... Oh, I don't have to go that far. On the other side of the room is "Because I said so!" 366 Insightful and Thought-Provoking Reflections on Parenting and Family Life by John Rosemond. I'm pretty sure this has a page 123... Ok... fifth, sixth, and seventh sentences: "The second way of going before is to run interference. The consequence of this is that one's children have no reason to follow. Rather, they have every reason to sit on their duffs and wait for the parent to solve their problems."
Well, that was kind of dull, wasn't it? I'm going after that book on the island after all... It's a mystery and mostly likely a lot more fun.
"Can't wait. Hubba-hubba! Who's the moppet in the tight blouse?" From Something Rotten (a Thursday Next novel) by Jasper Fforde.
Ironically, I really am surrounded by books... just not very lengthy ones where I'm sitting!
Aug 13, 2006
Toward a Better Calmer Day
I have managed, today, to get the first birthday party invites filled out, stuffed, addressed, stamped, and put into the mail. I also got the paper read and some toys picked up and put away.
I'm out of naptime and into lunchtime now so I may get nothing else done but I figure this is an improvement over yesterday.
Update:
I also got most of the grocery shopping done and the padded part of the highchair run through the washer and dryer.
I'm out of naptime and into lunchtime now so I may get nothing else done but I figure this is an improvement over yesterday.
Update:
I also got most of the grocery shopping done and the padded part of the highchair run through the washer and dryer.
Aug 12, 2006
The Thing I Hate The Most About My Post-Baby Life
is that I can never fucking get anything done.
A list of errands? Forget it - we'll get one (and a half) done in a list of 3 or 4, if that. And the older she gets, the worse it's getting.
Work? Nope. Chances of finishing a project when intended are minimal at best (my apologies to any of my clients who happen across this).
Cleaning? You've got to be kidding me. John (thank God) has taken over much of the cleaning duties because I'm now so ineffectual.
My entire life has been about accomplishment on an everyday scale (we're not talking a Nobel prize here just cramming a great deal into every day and Getting It Done). I'm a work/chores first kind of person. Work hard, play hard. Now life is just plain hard.
I'm having to do my work-work at night because baby is too interruptive during the day, so any downtime I have should be during the day but, funny thing, we're back to interruptive baby again. I look like shit. My brain is rotting. My initiative dissolved months ago. My life has been reduced to an inutterably long series of half-finished tasks and teething rings.
Damn it, I want to Get Something Done!!!
A list of errands? Forget it - we'll get one (and a half) done in a list of 3 or 4, if that. And the older she gets, the worse it's getting.
Work? Nope. Chances of finishing a project when intended are minimal at best (my apologies to any of my clients who happen across this).
Cleaning? You've got to be kidding me. John (thank God) has taken over much of the cleaning duties because I'm now so ineffectual.
My entire life has been about accomplishment on an everyday scale (we're not talking a Nobel prize here just cramming a great deal into every day and Getting It Done). I'm a work/chores first kind of person. Work hard, play hard. Now life is just plain hard.
I'm having to do my work-work at night because baby is too interruptive during the day, so any downtime I have should be during the day but, funny thing, we're back to interruptive baby again. I look like shit. My brain is rotting. My initiative dissolved months ago. My life has been reduced to an inutterably long series of half-finished tasks and teething rings.
Damn it, I want to Get Something Done!!!
Aug 10, 2006
Of Felinity and Things
a/k/a Cat update
We've decided to try a combination of spray on and constant pheremones - Feliway - for a while (probably about 2-3 months). If that doesn't work, I think it will be Time.
Thank you all for your wonderful support and help. I will keep you posted.
We've decided to try a combination of spray on and constant pheremones - Feliway - for a while (probably about 2-3 months). If that doesn't work, I think it will be Time.
Thank you all for your wonderful support and help. I will keep you posted.
Aug 6, 2006
Birthdays
Thank the Lord. The iPod Nano that I pre-loaded with his CDs was a hit. Enough of a hit that he asked me to show him how to use it this morning (normally, his presents sit for weeks before he puts them into use) and then went running with it.
It's always dicey with John - I'm never sure whether I'm getting him the right thing for his birthday/Christmas/whatever. The only other time I remember him being this excited about something is the time I got him an American flag (the kind that stands in an auditorium, complete with pole, gold braid, and brass stand). Mostly, he asks for clothes or says,"oh, nothing," when asked what he wants.
I am beyond relieved; I'm thrilled.
John and I, you see, have antithetical views on birthdays.
His view: You should celebrate everyone everyday and not have a special day for anyone.
My view: There aren't enough celebrations in life and, frankly, I haven't noticed anyone going out of their way to celebrate me in the general way of things. Besides, it's a great excuse to eat cake.
So you can see what a quandary we have.
I honored his wishes this year - mostly - as difficult as it is. No cake. Presents, yes. Dinner out but just pizza like we normally might on a Saturday night. No party. No balloons. No streamers. Hopefully he will remember this come next April and honor my birthday beliefs.
Part of the reason it is so difficult for me to honor his birthday views is that it makes me feel rotten. It makes me feel (a) guilty that I'm not doing for him what I'd want done for me and (b) greedy that I want a fuss made over me.
Part of me can't help thinking that he must think I'm awfully self-centered to want a fuss and maybe that's why he seems to be so reluctant to indulge my birthday desires. It always seems like such an imposition for him.
Still, let the record reflect that despite my guilt and greed feelings, I did what he wanted.
The defense closes.
It's always dicey with John - I'm never sure whether I'm getting him the right thing for his birthday/Christmas/whatever. The only other time I remember him being this excited about something is the time I got him an American flag (the kind that stands in an auditorium, complete with pole, gold braid, and brass stand). Mostly, he asks for clothes or says,"oh, nothing," when asked what he wants.
I am beyond relieved; I'm thrilled.
John and I, you see, have antithetical views on birthdays.
His view: You should celebrate everyone everyday and not have a special day for anyone.
My view: There aren't enough celebrations in life and, frankly, I haven't noticed anyone going out of their way to celebrate me in the general way of things. Besides, it's a great excuse to eat cake.
So you can see what a quandary we have.
I honored his wishes this year - mostly - as difficult as it is. No cake. Presents, yes. Dinner out but just pizza like we normally might on a Saturday night. No party. No balloons. No streamers. Hopefully he will remember this come next April and honor my birthday beliefs.
Part of the reason it is so difficult for me to honor his birthday views is that it makes me feel rotten. It makes me feel (a) guilty that I'm not doing for him what I'd want done for me and (b) greedy that I want a fuss made over me.
Part of me can't help thinking that he must think I'm awfully self-centered to want a fuss and maybe that's why he seems to be so reluctant to indulge my birthday desires. It always seems like such an imposition for him.
Still, let the record reflect that despite my guilt and greed feelings, I did what he wanted.
The defense closes.
Questionable Morality
The cat has again peed in the living room. This makes 6 or 7 times since he started his antibiotics 4 days ago - our last ditch effort to cure the pee problem.
Norm is 17. He has thryoid issues held in check by medication twice daily (crushed and mixed with his food); he also take metamucil (natural flavor) twice daily with his food. He survived having his pelvis crushed by a car and being missing for 6 days 5 years ago. He survived an animal bite and enormous abscess and consequent surgery this April. He is almost stone deaf and I'm pretty sure he's arthritic as he doesn't jump up very well anymore and is stiff about jumping down. He sleeps most of the time and has gone gray on one side of his face. He is curmudgeonly but he always was and, in general, he seems reasonably happy.
Except for the pee problem. He pees where he is not supposed to. We've been dealing with the odor but he's started peeing and leaving puddles where the baby can get into them. (We're pretty good about finding them quickly up here - usually by stepping in them.) We've tested for FUS, we've tested for many things. The tests have all come back negatively. We've put in an additional litterbox; both are kept filled with the only litter he uses and is scooped daily. He goes out on demand so he has additional opportunity to pee if he has to. So the unwelcome conclusion is that the problem is not medical but mental.
We've had this problem off and on over the years and it was almost always traced to some sort of disruption in the house (we've done a lot of renovations and have had workman in and out at times over the last 7 years). We're not having any renovations now (can't afford 'em) but the baby has started crawling. And, soon, she will be walking. Another small being is pacing Norm's floors and the threat isn't likely to disappear anytime soon.
I really don't know what to do. This is easily the hardest decision I have ever had to face. The mother in me shouts that I can't risk having my baby splash her (soon-to-be-chewed) hands in cat pee. The cat mother in me shouts that I can't murder my cat. Particularly since I have such a personal fear of someone unplugging me out of convenience should I ever be on life support.
Is it right to condemn him to die because of a pee issue? Is it right to keep him alive if he is so unhappy about his living situation that he feels he must pee to get his point across? If he is having dementia issues, as the vet suspects given his age, is it fair to euthanize him for that or is it fair to let him live through losing his mind. Am I more afraid of losing him or watching his continued decline and dealing with the pee.
I don't want to be the grownup here. I'm not sure I can make this decision.
I'm really not sure if I can live with either outcome.
Norm is 17. He has thryoid issues held in check by medication twice daily (crushed and mixed with his food); he also take metamucil (natural flavor) twice daily with his food. He survived having his pelvis crushed by a car and being missing for 6 days 5 years ago. He survived an animal bite and enormous abscess and consequent surgery this April. He is almost stone deaf and I'm pretty sure he's arthritic as he doesn't jump up very well anymore and is stiff about jumping down. He sleeps most of the time and has gone gray on one side of his face. He is curmudgeonly but he always was and, in general, he seems reasonably happy.
Except for the pee problem. He pees where he is not supposed to. We've been dealing with the odor but he's started peeing and leaving puddles where the baby can get into them. (We're pretty good about finding them quickly up here - usually by stepping in them.) We've tested for FUS, we've tested for many things. The tests have all come back negatively. We've put in an additional litterbox; both are kept filled with the only litter he uses and is scooped daily. He goes out on demand so he has additional opportunity to pee if he has to. So the unwelcome conclusion is that the problem is not medical but mental.
We've had this problem off and on over the years and it was almost always traced to some sort of disruption in the house (we've done a lot of renovations and have had workman in and out at times over the last 7 years). We're not having any renovations now (can't afford 'em) but the baby has started crawling. And, soon, she will be walking. Another small being is pacing Norm's floors and the threat isn't likely to disappear anytime soon.
I really don't know what to do. This is easily the hardest decision I have ever had to face. The mother in me shouts that I can't risk having my baby splash her (soon-to-be-chewed) hands in cat pee. The cat mother in me shouts that I can't murder my cat. Particularly since I have such a personal fear of someone unplugging me out of convenience should I ever be on life support.
Is it right to condemn him to die because of a pee issue? Is it right to keep him alive if he is so unhappy about his living situation that he feels he must pee to get his point across? If he is having dementia issues, as the vet suspects given his age, is it fair to euthanize him for that or is it fair to let him live through losing his mind. Am I more afraid of losing him or watching his continued decline and dealing with the pee.
I don't want to be the grownup here. I'm not sure I can make this decision.
I'm really not sure if I can live with either outcome.
Aug 4, 2006
Interrupting is Rude; Changing the Topic at the Same Time is Ruder Yet
To any man who happens to be reading this: A word of advice...
When you are with a woman and she is talking, do not just talk right over her, changing the subject. It's rude. And not just a little rude, very, very rude. Ruder than just simply interrupting.
Let me explain why...
1) The first layer of rude is interrupting as it implies her words are not worth listening to.
2) The second layer of rude is the subject change as it implies not only were you not listening to her but were busy thinking of a new topic of conversation instead.
So, men, if you don't want to imply to the woman you are conversing with that she is an insignificant nothing who should just shut up because nobody wants to hear what she has to say anyway (or even if you simply don't want to get hit), don't do it.
This public service announcement has been brought to you by Strings and Sealing Wax and Other Fancy Stuff and the Committee to Civilize Men Who Are Jerks
When you are with a woman and she is talking, do not just talk right over her, changing the subject. It's rude. And not just a little rude, very, very rude. Ruder than just simply interrupting.
Let me explain why...
1) The first layer of rude is interrupting as it implies her words are not worth listening to.
2) The second layer of rude is the subject change as it implies not only were you not listening to her but were busy thinking of a new topic of conversation instead.
So, men, if you don't want to imply to the woman you are conversing with that she is an insignificant nothing who should just shut up because nobody wants to hear what she has to say anyway (or even if you simply don't want to get hit), don't do it.
This public service announcement has been brought to you by Strings and Sealing Wax and Other Fancy Stuff and the Committee to Civilize Men Who Are Jerks
Aug 1, 2006
Because I Got Tagged...
The 5 More Things Meme
Five snacks I enjoy:
crackers and port wine cheese spread
dried apricots
raw almonds
South Beach Meal Replacement Bars
chips and dip (but I only eat those at parties)
Five songs to which I know all the lyrics:
We Didn't Start the Fire, Billy Joel
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, Rockapella
Mr. Moran, The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones
Last Movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony (in German)
I've Never Been in Love Before, Guys & Dolls
Five things I would do if I were a millionaire:
Pay off my mortgage
Build a garage for my husband
Make large donations to Habitat for Humanity, Unicef, and Americares
Build up Katie's college fund and our retirement fund
Travel
Five bad habits:
Lack of self-control in eating
Waiting until all the bottles are dirty before I wash them
Waiting until I run out of underwear before I do laundry
Blogging when I should be working
Buying books
Five things I like doing:
Eating
Blogging
Buying & reading books
Singing
Getting new shoes
Five things I don't like doing:
Doing the money (writing bills, balancing the checkbook)
Cleaning
Dealing with dead things
Fixing The Blue Screen of Death
Exercise
Five things I would never wear again:
My wedding dress (I'd wear the veil again though)
Low-rise undies (they rub my c-section scar)
Horizontal stripes
The shoes from my sister's first wedding (OMG, I've never met a more uncomfortable pair!!
Toe socks
Five favorite toys:
Computer
Vibrator
My daughter's Mozart Cube
Piano (does that count?)
Cellphone
There ya go, LauraJ!
Five snacks I enjoy:
crackers and port wine cheese spread
dried apricots
raw almonds
South Beach Meal Replacement Bars
chips and dip (but I only eat those at parties)
Five songs to which I know all the lyrics:
We Didn't Start the Fire, Billy Joel
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, Rockapella
Mr. Moran, The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones
Last Movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony (in German)
I've Never Been in Love Before, Guys & Dolls
Five things I would do if I were a millionaire:
Pay off my mortgage
Build a garage for my husband
Make large donations to Habitat for Humanity, Unicef, and Americares
Build up Katie's college fund and our retirement fund
Travel
Five bad habits:
Lack of self-control in eating
Waiting until all the bottles are dirty before I wash them
Waiting until I run out of underwear before I do laundry
Blogging when I should be working
Buying books
Five things I like doing:
Eating
Blogging
Buying & reading books
Singing
Getting new shoes
Five things I don't like doing:
Doing the money (writing bills, balancing the checkbook)
Cleaning
Dealing with dead things
Fixing The Blue Screen of Death
Exercise
Five things I would never wear again:
My wedding dress (I'd wear the veil again though)
Low-rise undies (they rub my c-section scar)
Horizontal stripes
The shoes from my sister's first wedding (OMG, I've never met a more uncomfortable pair!!
Toe socks
Five favorite toys:
Computer
Vibrator
My daughter's Mozart Cube
Piano (does that count?)
Cellphone
There ya go, LauraJ!
Jul 29, 2006
Goodbye, My Friend
I have a friend, an e-friend if you want to be particular, whose blog I read everyday. I have found her to be dealing with many of the same issues I am dealing with and to always be thoughtful and well-written, humorous at times -- a person I would enjoy hanging out with in "real" life.
I went to read her blog today and it has been taken down. I wonder if she made the choice to sacrifice a little of herself, a little more of her freedom, to commit herself more completely to the whole. I wonder if she believes it is the right choice. I wonder if they do. I do not know what decision I would have made in her place. I do know I will very much miss reading her thoughts on her world... a world paralleled by my own. I hope all involved will grow in love and kindness, understanding and acceptance. I hope I will one day again read her words to the world.
This is for her:
~~~~~~~
I tried to read your words today
but they no longer echo.
I tried to hear your spirit today
but it no longer remains.
Your voice no longer carries
down the crowded hall.
The voices in your life
converse more peaceably,
perhaps, when your voice
in the ether
is silenced.
The voice in your heart,
I know,
will bring you truth.
Peace be with you,
and all
who surround
you.
~~~~~~~~
Godspeed, my friend.
I went to read her blog today and it has been taken down. I wonder if she made the choice to sacrifice a little of herself, a little more of her freedom, to commit herself more completely to the whole. I wonder if she believes it is the right choice. I wonder if they do. I do not know what decision I would have made in her place. I do know I will very much miss reading her thoughts on her world... a world paralleled by my own. I hope all involved will grow in love and kindness, understanding and acceptance. I hope I will one day again read her words to the world.
This is for her:
~~~~~~~
I tried to read your words today
but they no longer echo.
I tried to hear your spirit today
but it no longer remains.
Your voice no longer carries
down the crowded hall.
The voices in your life
converse more peaceably,
perhaps, when your voice
in the ether
is silenced.
The voice in your heart,
I know,
will bring you truth.
Peace be with you,
and all
who surround
you.
~~~~~~~~
Godspeed, my friend.
Jul 26, 2006
Taking the Bait (Second Post Today)
I did it, LauraJ... sent some pictures to be posted at The Shape of a Mother. It is a wonderful blog and her goals are laudable. It was disheartening to read though; so many of the pictures there were from people who were beautifully slender and still fretting about how they looked. So, rather than just sigh and wish that someone my size would post pictures so I could feel better, I sent pictures in. Maybe I can inspire another larger woman to do that to.
I have to wonder why those slender women felt so poorly about themselves. Is it that they were so perfect before the baby that the least imperfection seems to skyrocket impossibly high on the parabolic curve? Are only those who know, at least subconsciously, that their bodies once conformed to our culture's notion of physical perfection brave enough to put their bodies on display (even on such a supportive site as this)?
I also have to wonder why so many slender women posted and so few larger women. Are the slender women less comfortable with their bodies? Common sense would seem to say no. Are they looking for reassurance that their bodies are still beautiful? That makes me so sad. I can see their beauty easily. I doubt they would say the same.
I will fully admit that I have a hard time listening to/reading about slim women fretting over their baby pooch. I would venture to say that many heavier women do. This is, perhaps, a result of too many sideways glances from too many catty yet "perfect" skinny girls followed by whispered comments. If you are a slender woman, please do not be offended by my comments; I do realize that any change in one's body can be disheartening no matter your size. It just reminds me of another story... I was facing potential thyroid surgery (I didn't wind up having a thyroid problem) and was discussing specialists with another member of the chorus I sang in. She had nothing but praise for her surgeon and said something along the lines of, "and my range is still just as large as it was... oh, but you're an alto so it doesn't matter."
Because my voice was lower than hers, she discounted the importance of keeping my singing voice intact. Likewise, I often feel discounted by slender women saying, in essence "well, you were big anyway; it can't be as hard for you." If anything, it's more demoralizing. The voices of self-doubt and self-recrimination shriek more loudly than ever. Most of us larger women start with a much lower threshhold of self-esteem, leaving us far lower yet after gaining yet more weight.
At any rate, I feel for these poor girls, that they can't appreciate their nearly flat bellies, their elegantly slim arms, their impossibly long and slender legs, even as part of me wishes they could know, just for a day or two, what being heavy is like. I feel for the heavy women who don't dare post their pictures, the ones that dread the mirror even as their psyche draws them to it to pick at their flaws.
But, mostly, I feel tired. And that the fight against my body's shape is futile.
Oh, and I hate that fucking weight routine. (You'll understand that comment if she posts my pictures and comments on the site.)
Update: You can go and read my "story" and see the pictures. They're posted now.
I have to wonder why those slender women felt so poorly about themselves. Is it that they were so perfect before the baby that the least imperfection seems to skyrocket impossibly high on the parabolic curve? Are only those who know, at least subconsciously, that their bodies once conformed to our culture's notion of physical perfection brave enough to put their bodies on display (even on such a supportive site as this)?
I also have to wonder why so many slender women posted and so few larger women. Are the slender women less comfortable with their bodies? Common sense would seem to say no. Are they looking for reassurance that their bodies are still beautiful? That makes me so sad. I can see their beauty easily. I doubt they would say the same.
I will fully admit that I have a hard time listening to/reading about slim women fretting over their baby pooch. I would venture to say that many heavier women do. This is, perhaps, a result of too many sideways glances from too many catty yet "perfect" skinny girls followed by whispered comments. If you are a slender woman, please do not be offended by my comments; I do realize that any change in one's body can be disheartening no matter your size. It just reminds me of another story... I was facing potential thyroid surgery (I didn't wind up having a thyroid problem) and was discussing specialists with another member of the chorus I sang in. She had nothing but praise for her surgeon and said something along the lines of, "and my range is still just as large as it was... oh, but you're an alto so it doesn't matter."
Because my voice was lower than hers, she discounted the importance of keeping my singing voice intact. Likewise, I often feel discounted by slender women saying, in essence "well, you were big anyway; it can't be as hard for you." If anything, it's more demoralizing. The voices of self-doubt and self-recrimination shriek more loudly than ever. Most of us larger women start with a much lower threshhold of self-esteem, leaving us far lower yet after gaining yet more weight.
At any rate, I feel for these poor girls, that they can't appreciate their nearly flat bellies, their elegantly slim arms, their impossibly long and slender legs, even as part of me wishes they could know, just for a day or two, what being heavy is like. I feel for the heavy women who don't dare post their pictures, the ones that dread the mirror even as their psyche draws them to it to pick at their flaws.
But, mostly, I feel tired. And that the fight against my body's shape is futile.
Oh, and I hate that fucking weight routine. (You'll understand that comment if she posts my pictures and comments on the site.)
Update: You can go and read my "story" and see the pictures. They're posted now.
Good God!
Ok, I did the University Quiz... and, without trying to manipulate it at all and on the first run through, came up as my alma mater. Guess I picked right all those years ago!
You're Smith College!
An ardent feminist and generally progressive person, you
seek to defy convention in many settings. You've also stood up for gay
rights and helped influence those around you to do the same. At the same
time, there are aspects of your personality that are quite standardized,
to say nothing of your name. You don't want anyone who's going to spend
time with you to live far away, and this can be seen as either clingy or
simply friendly. Your favorite Scooby Doo character is Velma.
Take the University Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Jul 20, 2006
Dreaming My Life Away
Take a helping of Quantum Leap, a dash of Groundhog Day, and a sprinkle of Stargate SG-1 and you wind up with my dreams last night.
For much of the night, I dreamed I was trapped in time loop. As each loop ended and the next began, I'd jump into a new person/scenario. One thing, however, was consistent. Someone was trying to kill me. For hours, it went on. (It was one of those dreams where you wake up to pee and you go back to sleep and you're back in the dream.) All night, I ran from people trying to kill me.
Finally, about 7:00 a.m., people finally stopped trying to kill me and I got to a nice cozy dream featuring a very snuggly Richard Dean Anderson and the baby starts crying. And then screaming. Now, two things pop into my head here: 1) Where the hell is John
who is on baby duty until I get up at 7:30 and 2) why the hell did she have to cry during the happy dream and not when people were trying to off me??
Enquiring minds want to know!!
Enquiring minds also hope that RDA puts in a repeat appearance tonight but that all dream assassins go elsewhere. Please.
For much of the night, I dreamed I was trapped in time loop. As each loop ended and the next began, I'd jump into a new person/scenario. One thing, however, was consistent. Someone was trying to kill me. For hours, it went on. (It was one of those dreams where you wake up to pee and you go back to sleep and you're back in the dream.) All night, I ran from people trying to kill me.
Finally, about 7:00 a.m., people finally stopped trying to kill me and I got to a nice cozy dream featuring a very snuggly Richard Dean Anderson and the baby starts crying. And then screaming. Now, two things pop into my head here: 1) Where the hell is John
who is on baby duty until I get up at 7:30 and 2) why the hell did she have to cry during the happy dream and not when people were trying to off me??
Enquiring minds want to know!!
Enquiring minds also hope that RDA puts in a repeat appearance tonight but that all dream assassins go elsewhere. Please.
Jul 15, 2006
There's Not Enough Vodka In The World
John's Really Obnoxious Uncle is staying with us. (Which is why I haven't responded to everyone's comments on the last post; I will, I promise.) This guy talks more than my mother.
I didn't think that was possible.
He just doesn't shut up. If there's nothing being discussed in the car, he will read street signs (out loud) a la Billy Crystal's father-in-law character in Forget Paris. He claps loudly to make my daughter blink. He talks over people. He criticizes constantly.
There is not enough vodka in the world to make this bearable.
I didn't think that was possible.
He just doesn't shut up. If there's nothing being discussed in the car, he will read street signs (out loud) a la Billy Crystal's father-in-law character in Forget Paris. He claps loudly to make my daughter blink. He talks over people. He criticizes constantly.
There is not enough vodka in the world to make this bearable.
Jul 10, 2006
67 Trivialities
Willow wanted trivia... blame her!
Day is done.
Gone the sun from the lake, from the hills, from the sky.
All is well.
Safely rest.
God is nigh.
- I am the oldest of 3 children.
- I lost my virginity on November 8, 1984.
- Sometimes I regret Fact No. 2 but only because the sex was so good and my marital sex is so not.
- I got my private pilot's license on April 22, 2004.
- My FAA written examination for my instrument rating expired last month.
- Fact No. 5 annoys the hell out of me.
- I share my birthday with Great Britain's current Queen Elizabeth.
- Despite her poor fashion sense, I'm relieved Fact No. 7 relates to Queen Elizabeth and not Dubya.
- It's been 17 years since I was graduated from college and 21 years since the New York State Board of Regents saw fit to graduate me from high school.
- Fact No. 9 makes me feel positively ancient.
- I like nice shoes and handbags.
- Speaking of shoes, not a single pair of my shoes fit after I had the baby.
- Fact No. 12 still upsets me but mostly because I can't find any cute replacement shoes.
- I went to an elementary school with an open classroom environment.
- I love to wrap presents elegantly.
- I really like to get presents but only if they show the person put some thought into it.
- Sometimes I still make believe.
- I wrote/write X-Files and Stargate fanfic.
- I'm embarassed to admit Fact No. 18 to 3D friends and wouldn't dream of admitting Fact No. 17 to anyone I had to face.
- I am obsessively controlling about my Christmas tree. No one else is allowed to touch it.
- I don't care that Fact No. 20 is true. It's my tree, dammit.
- My 3D friends laugh about Fact No. 20 but admit I have one of the best decorated Christmas trees they've ever seen (even as they are sneakily trying to rearrange ornaments to see if I notice). I do notice. Every time.
- I have met some really wonderful people online.
- I am a good party planner.
- I am a very bad athlete. (Very, very bad athlete.)
- I absolutely hate my exercise routine but do it anyway.
- My sunburn itches.
- I hate it when people are mad at me.
- I am a perfectionist.
- Due to Fact No. 29, I constantly feel I'm not good enough.
- Up until January, I didn't have a single cavity in my teeth.
- I blame the one cavity I now have on having been pregnant.
- I hate my mousy hair and dye it Dana Scully Red when I can afford to.
- I feel guilty when someone is working and I am not (like right now while John is polishing furniture and I'm blogging).
- My favorite comedian is Dennis Miller and I stopped watching Saturday Night Live when he left.
- I like to wear black.
- I figured out how to read at age 3.
- I'm awful at math.
- I bruise easily.
- I like most kinds of music but am not into rap.
- Fact No. 40 aside, I am partial to Baby Got Back because my own backside is large.
- I would look ridiculous shaking that backside unlike the dancers on the Baby Got Back music video.
- I love to tango.
- I love to get very, very dressed up (ballgown, etc.) but have very little occasion to.
- The only way I can remember that there are fewer oxygen molecules per square inch of air when it's warmer is to picture an airfilled balloon expanding as it heats over a candle.
- I really appreciate my flight instructor sharing Fact No. 45 with me.
- I once bit into a creme filled doughnut on the wrong side, squeezing white creme all over my chin in a room full of male pilots.
- Due to Fact No. 47, I am now thoroughly convinced that men's first thought about anything is how it relates to sex.
- I like to drive very fast with my windows and sunroof open and the radio blasting.
- I listen to All Things Considered and Car Talk on NPR when I'm in the car at the right time.
- I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up.
- I always figured I'd've changed the world by now.
- Reading the Alumnae Quarterly makes me feel like a failure.
- Ich spreche ein bisschen Deutsch.
- I am trying to learn French on CD.
- Fact No. 55 is not working.
- I also am trying to learn Quenya.
- Fact No. 57 is working better than fact No. 56 but needs more time than I can put into it now.
- I have my own business but still have a part time job.
- I used to sell Lancome in addition to the jobs in Fact No. 59.
- I love the way the word "linoleum" feels in my mouth when I say it.
- I find flatulence very funny.
- I sing.
- I think most people who believe they have awful voices actually can sing but were convinced otherwise by some jerk earlier in their lives.
- I can't keep a straight face and say the words "prune juice".
- Heck, it appears I can't keep a straight face and type the words "prune juice".
- I sing the first verse of Taps to my daughter as I put her in her crib for the night.
Day is done.
Gone the sun from the lake, from the hills, from the sky.
All is well.
Safely rest.
God is nigh.
The Postponing Post
I will take up that challenge, Willow, but I'm not sure yet how I want to handle it (i.e., a long list at once, random lists of ten doled out equally randomly, etc.)
So, first, I'm going to post about my Day Off. Yes, I got a Day Off yesterday. No job, no baby. The first in the nearly 10 months Katie's been here. John got up with her in the a.m., I had a totally free day. ::dances on the tables in remembered rejoicing::
I tagged along on a friend's flight lesson and then we flew out to Martha's Vinyard and went to the beach. (I, being the dingbat I am, didn't realize we'd be going to the beach and wound up with no towel, no swimsuit, and no sunscreen. Not to worry! Mommy's Day Off was still a success. I borrowed a towel, played in some great waves in my clothes, got enough sand in enough places to fill a small sandbox, and am definitely crispy around the edges.)
I suppose it should concern me that I was able to go off and leave my baby for an entire day, shouldn't it? It didn't and, you know what?, it still doesn't. (Mommy needs a day off too and I was a much nicer mommy today than I typically am on a Monday.) I did call home 2 or 3 times but that was primarily because John worries when I fly. John and the baby did fine and agreed that I should have a Mommy's Day Off once a month. He has his issues, as do we all, but I thank the heavens that this is not one of them!!
So, first, I'm going to post about my Day Off. Yes, I got a Day Off yesterday. No job, no baby. The first in the nearly 10 months Katie's been here. John got up with her in the a.m., I had a totally free day. ::dances on the tables in remembered rejoicing::
I tagged along on a friend's flight lesson and then we flew out to Martha's Vinyard and went to the beach. (I, being the dingbat I am, didn't realize we'd be going to the beach and wound up with no towel, no swimsuit, and no sunscreen. Not to worry! Mommy's Day Off was still a success. I borrowed a towel, played in some great waves in my clothes, got enough sand in enough places to fill a small sandbox, and am definitely crispy around the edges.)
I suppose it should concern me that I was able to go off and leave my baby for an entire day, shouldn't it? It didn't and, you know what?, it still doesn't. (Mommy needs a day off too and I was a much nicer mommy today than I typically am on a Monday.) I did call home 2 or 3 times but that was primarily because John worries when I fly. John and the baby did fine and agreed that I should have a Mommy's Day Off once a month. He has his issues, as do we all, but I thank the heavens that this is not one of them!!
Jul 6, 2006
Total Lust
I love small airplanes. I mean really small airplanes. I did my private in a Cessna 152. (For those who don't know, it's a tiny 2 seater -- basically a flying Yugo -- barely big enough for 2 people and barely enough load for 2 people and a couple of headsets.) I had to move up to a Piper Cherokee Warrior when I started my instrument but part of me still really misses that little Cessna. Yeah, it's a kite in the wind. Trim? Who bothers to trim? With a 152 in *any* kind of turbulence, trim is just about useless. Yeah, you have to get good at crosswind landings because it's not going to land itself. A 152 wants to fly and that's a good part of its charm. The 152 wants to fly as much as I do. But it is pretty much a flying Yugo and is distinctly not sexy.
Enter the
Liberty XL2
I want this aircraft. No, I want this aircraft. No, that doesn't quite do it either... I w a n t this aircraft.
Ok, let's be honest... I am in total lust with this aircraft.
Burn rate similar to a 152 (5.5/hr), almost a 600 lb useful load, all that glass...
my God, the glass.
This is one fucking sexy airplane.
Enter the
Liberty XL2
I want this aircraft. No, I want this aircraft. No, that doesn't quite do it either... I w a n t this aircraft.
Ok, let's be honest... I am in total lust with this aircraft.
Burn rate similar to a 152 (5.5/hr), almost a 600 lb useful load, all that glass...
my God, the glass.
This is one fucking sexy airplane.
Jun 26, 2006
Hormones Suck
No, I'm not on any hormones other than those naturally already created by my body but they seem to be in huge abundance this month.
My menstrual cycle started with a big (1.5") round clot with a dab of white/cream material in the middle. It looked like a fried egg courtesy of Hieronymous Bosch, a pointed and macabre reminder of the typical failure of my body to create and sustain life. And, somehow, knowing that we conceived but miscarried is worse than figuring the sperm and the ova hung out at different bars.
Yet another month.
Yet another failed attempt.
Another discussion on how long we'll "try".
Hormones suck.
My menstrual cycle started with a big (1.5") round clot with a dab of white/cream material in the middle. It looked like a fried egg courtesy of Hieronymous Bosch, a pointed and macabre reminder of the typical failure of my body to create and sustain life. And, somehow, knowing that we conceived but miscarried is worse than figuring the sperm and the ova hung out at different bars.
Yet another month.
Yet another failed attempt.
Another discussion on how long we'll "try".
Hormones suck.
Jun 22, 2006
Does It Say Colonel Anywhere On My Uniform?
Another blow against mommydom, this time by my so-called "family friendly" company. So much for mothers ruling the world!
I work primarily from home. Before I had Katie, I went in to the office one day a week. When I was pregnant, they pleaded with me to keep coming in once a week once I had the baby. I did not think this was a good idea. Still, I agreed... reluctantly.
Last week, my boss told me there had been a complaint and They don't want the baby there anymore. We settled on a much reduced in-office schedule (a couple of hours every other week just after the baby's napped and been fed).
Now, my issue here is not what you would think. I don't have a problem with them not wanting the baby there. It's a business, after all. And while she is a pretty well-behaved baby, even well-behaved babies have bad days. My issue is the way it was handled. I have a real problem with being pushed into doing something and then made to feel like an inconsiderate idiot when I do it!
I didn't think it was a good idea to begin with. I also knew I simply wouldn't be able to do it much longer anyway. Once she starts crawling, there would be no way to keep her safely restrained in an office. But, God forbid I be allowed the dignity of a discussion where I'd be allowed to discuss the situation with my boss.
I also have a problem with the ball-less wonder who tried to let my boss take the flak instead of owning up to making the complaint. (I have a real problem with people that don't have the balls to tell me to my face they have a problem with my behaviour and then to try to make my boss the bad guy/girl? How freakin' rude.) And it's not like we don't know who it was. Oh, he may have tried to stay anonymous but - ha HA! - he was found out by my intrepid coworkers (50-something year old ladies who dote on the baby) and made to feel like an ass. Worse for him, one of my coworkers told one of the senior folks who found it typical and every time he calls for the ball-less wonder, he now asks for the "babyhater". Heh heh heh.
P.S. Ok, so the quote doesn't really fit; I have RDA as Jack O'Neill on the brain. Sue me. ;)
I work primarily from home. Before I had Katie, I went in to the office one day a week. When I was pregnant, they pleaded with me to keep coming in once a week once I had the baby. I did not think this was a good idea. Still, I agreed... reluctantly.
Last week, my boss told me there had been a complaint and They don't want the baby there anymore. We settled on a much reduced in-office schedule (a couple of hours every other week just after the baby's napped and been fed).
Now, my issue here is not what you would think. I don't have a problem with them not wanting the baby there. It's a business, after all. And while she is a pretty well-behaved baby, even well-behaved babies have bad days. My issue is the way it was handled. I have a real problem with being pushed into doing something and then made to feel like an inconsiderate idiot when I do it!
I didn't think it was a good idea to begin with. I also knew I simply wouldn't be able to do it much longer anyway. Once she starts crawling, there would be no way to keep her safely restrained in an office. But, God forbid I be allowed the dignity of a discussion where I'd be allowed to discuss the situation with my boss.
I also have a problem with the ball-less wonder who tried to let my boss take the flak instead of owning up to making the complaint. (I have a real problem with people that don't have the balls to tell me to my face they have a problem with my behaviour and then to try to make my boss the bad guy/girl? How freakin' rude.) And it's not like we don't know who it was. Oh, he may have tried to stay anonymous but - ha HA! - he was found out by my intrepid coworkers (50-something year old ladies who dote on the baby) and made to feel like an ass. Worse for him, one of my coworkers told one of the senior folks who found it typical and every time he calls for the ball-less wonder, he now asks for the "babyhater". Heh heh heh.
P.S. Ok, so the quote doesn't really fit; I have RDA as Jack O'Neill on the brain. Sue me. ;)
Jun 21, 2006
Three, actually.
I was in the post office today picking up my mother's mail (something for which she will not be nearly grateful enough). Our post office is kind of slow. Ok, it's one of the slowest I've ever been to. The line moves at a speed only slightly more rapid than glacial. Grouchy customers are the norm and one, today, stormed out the door, having an outburst about this was the worst post office he'd ever been to and how it had awful, slow, and stupid employees.
Not being the brightest bulb in the chandelier myself, and being possessed of a somewhat irreverent sense of humor, I said (obstensibly to my daughter), "grouchy customers too..."
While several of the customers in line did, indeed, seem to find this funny (it released a great deal of the tension that Mr. Cranky left floating), Mr. I Stood Behind Mr. Cranky And I'm Now Cranky Too said, snottily, "well, some of us have a real job and can't afford to stand around all day waiting for government workers!"
Now, I know that I kind of brought that on myself. I also know that responding to it would do no good; so I didn't. But. Oh, the but...
I wanted to turn around and tell him I have a real job. Three, actually. One which pays regularly, one which pays occasionally, and one (the one he was implying was not real) which doesn't pay at all.
[[Hang on, job 3 is crying and job 1 is on the phone...]]
[[Ok, 3 is put to nap, 1 is off the phone, and, although I really have to follow up with a potential client on job 2, I'm back. (Blogging is much more fun than marketing.)]]
I think I must have been a warrior in another lifetime. I desperately want to strike back at snotty people but I know I shouldn't for any number of reasons, the biggest one being that it never really makes you feel better because you know you're not going to change their opinion.
Having this happen makes me appreciate all the more graymama's forebearance with the unenlightened. I have not that kind of patience but I'm trying.
May God grant me the patience I need to deal with people like that and the understanding to see past their public flaws to the human underneath.
Not being the brightest bulb in the chandelier myself, and being possessed of a somewhat irreverent sense of humor, I said (obstensibly to my daughter), "grouchy customers too..."
While several of the customers in line did, indeed, seem to find this funny (it released a great deal of the tension that Mr. Cranky left floating), Mr. I Stood Behind Mr. Cranky And I'm Now Cranky Too said, snottily, "well, some of us have a real job and can't afford to stand around all day waiting for government workers!"
Now, I know that I kind of brought that on myself. I also know that responding to it would do no good; so I didn't. But. Oh, the but...
I wanted to turn around and tell him I have a real job. Three, actually. One which pays regularly, one which pays occasionally, and one (the one he was implying was not real) which doesn't pay at all.
[[Hang on, job 3 is crying and job 1 is on the phone...]]
[[Ok, 3 is put to nap, 1 is off the phone, and, although I really have to follow up with a potential client on job 2, I'm back. (Blogging is much more fun than marketing.)]]
I think I must have been a warrior in another lifetime. I desperately want to strike back at snotty people but I know I shouldn't for any number of reasons, the biggest one being that it never really makes you feel better because you know you're not going to change their opinion.
Having this happen makes me appreciate all the more graymama's forebearance with the unenlightened. I have not that kind of patience but I'm trying.
May God grant me the patience I need to deal with people like that and the understanding to see past their public flaws to the human underneath.
Jun 16, 2006
A Different Meme For Me
Well, at least it was one I hadn't seen before - interesting too. Thanks, graymama!
I know – that I don't like broccoli
I believe – every child should have a regular chance to play
I fought – with my siblings
I am angered – that some people just don't play fair
I love – standing on a bluff watching the ocean waves sent baubles of water sparkling across the rocks and through the air
I need – music
I take – some solace in knowing my husband loves me
I hear – road construction equipment at 7 AM sharp for the last 2 weeks
I drink – lots of unsweetened herb tea and the occasional vodka gimlet
I hate – feeling unworthy
I use – my computer... incessantly
I want – to be perfect
I decided – that I will die in the house I'm living in
I like – my friends
I feel – tired
I wear – whatever's easily at hand when I get up
I left – being a real estate paralegal... joyfully
I do – adore Reese's peanut butter creations (eggs, pumpkins, trees, etc.)
I hope – to leave the world a more beautiful place than I found it
I dream – of having really good sex
I drive – with the sunroof open, the windows down, and the music blasting when I'm alone in the car
I listen – with my mind but more often with my heart
I type – about 75 wpm (even now) on an ergonomic keyboard
I think – too much
I need - to lose about 60 pounds
I wish – I had long legs and wore a size 8
I am - unsure of myself
I compensate – myself poorly
I regret – not having yet saved the world
I care – a lot
I should – be a kinder person
I am not always - friendly
I said – I hate my life
I wonder –if I am fucking up my daughter royally
I changed – constantly
I cry – at coffee commercials
I am not – the outgoing sort
I lose – my cool when frustrated or overwhelmed
I leave – the spicy pepper thingies in Chinese food on my plate
Tag... you're all it...
I know – that I don't like broccoli
I believe – every child should have a regular chance to play
I fought – with my siblings
I am angered – that some people just don't play fair
I love – standing on a bluff watching the ocean waves sent baubles of water sparkling across the rocks and through the air
I need – music
I take – some solace in knowing my husband loves me
I hear – road construction equipment at 7 AM sharp for the last 2 weeks
I drink – lots of unsweetened herb tea and the occasional vodka gimlet
I hate – feeling unworthy
I use – my computer... incessantly
I want – to be perfect
I decided – that I will die in the house I'm living in
I like – my friends
I feel – tired
I wear – whatever's easily at hand when I get up
I left – being a real estate paralegal... joyfully
I do – adore Reese's peanut butter creations (eggs, pumpkins, trees, etc.)
I hope – to leave the world a more beautiful place than I found it
I dream – of having really good sex
I drive – with the sunroof open, the windows down, and the music blasting when I'm alone in the car
I listen – with my mind but more often with my heart
I type – about 75 wpm (even now) on an ergonomic keyboard
I think – too much
I need - to lose about 60 pounds
I wish – I had long legs and wore a size 8
I am - unsure of myself
I compensate – myself poorly
I regret – not having yet saved the world
I care – a lot
I should – be a kinder person
I am not always - friendly
I said – I hate my life
I wonder –if I am fucking up my daughter royally
I changed – constantly
I cry – at coffee commercials
I am not – the outgoing sort
I lose – my cool when frustrated or overwhelmed
I leave – the spicy pepper thingies in Chinese food on my plate
Tag... you're all it...
Jun 13, 2006
That's the News and I Am Outta Here...
(with apologies to Dennis Miller)
Hello, blog. Sorry I've not been here of late. It seems I'm obligated to... well... everyone which seems to leave no time for me. Or you. Sorry, blog. What can I say? It's been kind of a crappy few days.
I cracked the rear driver's side corner of my car up; car meets tree, car loses. All the damage is contained in 1 or 2 square feet but I figure it'll be a couple grand: new bumper cover (painted), new light lenses, rear quarter panel taken off, beat back into shape, and painted. We have collision but, still, the deductible is $500. And then the rates go up. For 7 years we've lived in this house and I've backed out my driveway and for 7 years that tree has been lying in wait, biding its time. I guess it got tired of waiting. Unfortunately, that $500 was supposed to be my airfare to the west coast this summer.
Then there's Teething. Oh, and a nasty cold, which started with a 102° fever on Friday. To give the baby credit though, she's being remarkably good about the whole thing. She didn't have to have Tylenol or Motrin once today though so I think she's improving although she's still seriously snuffling. Of course, I'm coming down with her cold and feel like shit at the moment.
We had picnics both Saturday and Sunday. I know, I know, picnics are supposed to be fun. The one was John's college reunion and, for the most part, it was fun. Sunday was the picnic for the women pilots' group I belong to. It was fun enough, I guess, although the meeting part seemed interminable. It made me really miss my flying though. It seems like such a dream now, that I actually can fly an airplane. Assuming I still can. I can't, of course, legally. My medical is out of date and I'm waaaaay out of currency. I don't have the money to bring either of those into order at the moment.
My parents came up Thursday and stayed through Sunday. They did babysit Saturday night which was really nice of them. Their house purchase was finalized Monday. Dad will be back tomorrow to start dismantling the pool (removing the "attractive nuisance").
Saturday was the monthly Big O. We took advantage of it but I think I'm giving up. Just not very hopeful this cycle. For the best, I suppose. Although feeling hopeless isn't exactly the way I want to live my life. ((And to all those who've never struggled with fertility: no, sorry, it's not fun trying. It's stressful. It's awkward. It's one of the least romantic things one can do as a couple.))
I really have no reason to be feeling sort of, well, blue isn't exactly the right word. It's not blue, per se; it's more... flat. Like tonic water left open on the counter over night. Flat and sort of oddly flavoured.
Hello, blog. Sorry I've not been here of late. It seems I'm obligated to... well... everyone which seems to leave no time for me. Or you. Sorry, blog. What can I say? It's been kind of a crappy few days.
I cracked the rear driver's side corner of my car up; car meets tree, car loses. All the damage is contained in 1 or 2 square feet but I figure it'll be a couple grand: new bumper cover (painted), new light lenses, rear quarter panel taken off, beat back into shape, and painted. We have collision but, still, the deductible is $500. And then the rates go up. For 7 years we've lived in this house and I've backed out my driveway and for 7 years that tree has been lying in wait, biding its time. I guess it got tired of waiting. Unfortunately, that $500 was supposed to be my airfare to the west coast this summer.
Then there's Teething. Oh, and a nasty cold, which started with a 102° fever on Friday. To give the baby credit though, she's being remarkably good about the whole thing. She didn't have to have Tylenol or Motrin once today though so I think she's improving although she's still seriously snuffling. Of course, I'm coming down with her cold and feel like shit at the moment.
We had picnics both Saturday and Sunday. I know, I know, picnics are supposed to be fun. The one was John's college reunion and, for the most part, it was fun. Sunday was the picnic for the women pilots' group I belong to. It was fun enough, I guess, although the meeting part seemed interminable. It made me really miss my flying though. It seems like such a dream now, that I actually can fly an airplane. Assuming I still can. I can't, of course, legally. My medical is out of date and I'm waaaaay out of currency. I don't have the money to bring either of those into order at the moment.
My parents came up Thursday and stayed through Sunday. They did babysit Saturday night which was really nice of them. Their house purchase was finalized Monday. Dad will be back tomorrow to start dismantling the pool (removing the "attractive nuisance").
Saturday was the monthly Big O. We took advantage of it but I think I'm giving up. Just not very hopeful this cycle. For the best, I suppose. Although feeling hopeless isn't exactly the way I want to live my life. ((And to all those who've never struggled with fertility: no, sorry, it's not fun trying. It's stressful. It's awkward. It's one of the least romantic things one can do as a couple.))
I really have no reason to be feeling sort of, well, blue isn't exactly the right word. It's not blue, per se; it's more... flat. Like tonic water left open on the counter over night. Flat and sort of oddly flavoured.
Jun 5, 2006
The Exercise Mythos
I don't know why I thought working with a trainer would be different, why, this time, exercise would be all that it's cracked up to be. It's been 2 months now of doing an hour + of strength training 3x/week with a spare 40 minute cardio session thrown in once or twice a week.
Let's deal with the myths one at a time, shall we?
Ein... exercise gets easier as you go along. I'm never quite sure whether they mean that the exercises themselves will get easier or whether making yourself do it will get easier or both but no matter! Neither is easier. It still is miserable and hard and sweaty and pretty much the nastiest thing I have to face, including the cat pee in my office.
Zwei... exercise gives you energy. Bullshit. Exercise makes me tired. And I mean that in both the immediate sense and the grand scheme of things. If exercise gave me energy, I wouldn't be constantly fighting putting my head down on the keyboard for a snooze. (Yes, I get enough sleep - 7.5 hours of sleep a night.) Also, if exercise gave me energy, I'd feel less tired than I did two months ago. Not true. I feel more tired, not less.
Drei... exercise curbs your appetite. If possible, this is even a bigger load of bullpucky than the last one. Exercise makes me hungry. And not just a little hungry... run beserk through the kitchen in a ravenous pillage hungry.
Vier... exercise is fun. Ok, this one I'm not even going to deign to respond to.
Fuenf... exercise helps you lose weight. Ok, if this is true, then there is something seriously wrong with me that would have otherwise made me gain a bunch of weight the last couple of months because I'm pretty much right where I started, despite the diet and all this exercise.
Sechs... if you don't like exercise, you're just lazy. Well, I'm doing it, ain't I? And I ain't slackin' off by half-heartedly pokin' at it. Trainer Guy wouldn't let me, even if I wanted to. I guess that's not really a myth though. That's more a common judgment by jocks.
Maybe kickboxing the people who make these claims would make me feel better.
And it'd probably burn some calories too, huh?
Let's deal with the myths one at a time, shall we?
Ein... exercise gets easier as you go along. I'm never quite sure whether they mean that the exercises themselves will get easier or whether making yourself do it will get easier or both but no matter! Neither is easier. It still is miserable and hard and sweaty and pretty much the nastiest thing I have to face, including the cat pee in my office.
Zwei... exercise gives you energy. Bullshit. Exercise makes me tired. And I mean that in both the immediate sense and the grand scheme of things. If exercise gave me energy, I wouldn't be constantly fighting putting my head down on the keyboard for a snooze. (Yes, I get enough sleep - 7.5 hours of sleep a night.) Also, if exercise gave me energy, I'd feel less tired than I did two months ago. Not true. I feel more tired, not less.
Drei... exercise curbs your appetite. If possible, this is even a bigger load of bullpucky than the last one. Exercise makes me hungry. And not just a little hungry... run beserk through the kitchen in a ravenous pillage hungry.
Vier... exercise is fun. Ok, this one I'm not even going to deign to respond to.
Fuenf... exercise helps you lose weight. Ok, if this is true, then there is something seriously wrong with me that would have otherwise made me gain a bunch of weight the last couple of months because I'm pretty much right where I started, despite the diet and all this exercise.
Sechs... if you don't like exercise, you're just lazy. Well, I'm doing it, ain't I? And I ain't slackin' off by half-heartedly pokin' at it. Trainer Guy wouldn't let me, even if I wanted to. I guess that's not really a myth though. That's more a common judgment by jocks.
Maybe kickboxing the people who make these claims would make me feel better.
And it'd probably burn some calories too, huh?
Question?
Does anybody know how to move a post to the top? I started a draft post a few days ago that I just published today which didn't show up at the top but posted where it would have appeared had I posted it when I started.
Whew!
Good thing they didn't move on to high school science...
| You Passed 8th Grade Science |
 Congratulations, you got 8/8 correct! |
Jun 3, 2006
NH3
Did you know the chemical make up of ammonia is 1 Nitrogen atom and 3 Hydrogen atoms? Just in case you were curious.
I have been shoveling!! Shoveling out my closet, shoveling out the baby's room, shoveling out the attic. I have bags and bags of clothes to go to the goodwill, thown out clothes so worn they wouldn't even make good rags, and discovered a few clothes I'd forgotten about. I made some serious progress. Now, I need to haul the family toys up from my office to go into the attic (in the space I created) so that I'm one step closer to getting the cat pee smell out of my office.
Yes, my office reeks of cat pee. Apparently, when we were gone to New Jersey, he got in there and peed up a pissed off storm. Everything's got to come out, the carpet has to come up and get pitched. Then I have to wash the concrete down with as much Nil Odor as I can get my hands on, then seal the concrete and then have new carpet put down. Now, the kicker in this is that I know my desk and file cabinets won't survive being moved. They're those you-put-it-together-particle-board-wonders and are on their last legs already. So, this whole project also involves new office furniture. Can't really afford it, particularly not with having to get new carpet, but I figure I'll hit IKEA and hopefully that will make it more do-able.
And, hopefully, once I get all that done, my mother will STOP COMMENTING ON THE FUCKING CAT PEE ALREADY!!!
Oops... did I type that out loud?
I have been shoveling!! Shoveling out my closet, shoveling out the baby's room, shoveling out the attic. I have bags and bags of clothes to go to the goodwill, thown out clothes so worn they wouldn't even make good rags, and discovered a few clothes I'd forgotten about. I made some serious progress. Now, I need to haul the family toys up from my office to go into the attic (in the space I created) so that I'm one step closer to getting the cat pee smell out of my office.
Yes, my office reeks of cat pee. Apparently, when we were gone to New Jersey, he got in there and peed up a pissed off storm. Everything's got to come out, the carpet has to come up and get pitched. Then I have to wash the concrete down with as much Nil Odor as I can get my hands on, then seal the concrete and then have new carpet put down. Now, the kicker in this is that I know my desk and file cabinets won't survive being moved. They're those you-put-it-together-particle-board-wonders and are on their last legs already. So, this whole project also involves new office furniture. Can't really afford it, particularly not with having to get new carpet, but I figure I'll hit IKEA and hopefully that will make it more do-able.
And, hopefully, once I get all that done, my mother will STOP COMMENTING ON THE FUCKING CAT PEE ALREADY!!!
Oops... did I type that out loud?
May 26, 2006
Rosemary for Remembrance
One Vacant Chair
Words: Henry Washburn
Music: George Root
We shall meet but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him
While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
When one year ago we gathered,
Joy was in his mild blue eye.
Now the golden cord is severed,
And our hopes in ruin lie.
CHORUS: We shall meet, but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him
While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
At our fireside, sad and lonely,
Often will the bosom swell
At remembrance of the story
How our noble Willie fell.
How he strove to bear the banner
Thro' the thickest of the fight
And uphold our country's honor
In the strength of manhood's might.
CHORUS
True, they tell us wreaths of glory
Evermore will deck his brow,
But this soothes the anguish only,
Sweeping o'er our heartstrings now.
Sleep today, O early fallen,
In thy green and narrow bed.
Dirges from the pine and cypress
Mingle with the tears we shed.
To hear a beautiful piano version of this, go to
http://www.civilwarpoetry.org/union/songs/chair.html and
click on the little box with the notes on it.
Have a thoughtful Memorial Day weekend.
Words: Henry Washburn
Music: George Root
We shall meet but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him
While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
When one year ago we gathered,
Joy was in his mild blue eye.
Now the golden cord is severed,
And our hopes in ruin lie.
CHORUS: We shall meet, but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him
While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
At our fireside, sad and lonely,
Often will the bosom swell
At remembrance of the story
How our noble Willie fell.
How he strove to bear the banner
Thro' the thickest of the fight
And uphold our country's honor
In the strength of manhood's might.
CHORUS
True, they tell us wreaths of glory
Evermore will deck his brow,
But this soothes the anguish only,
Sweeping o'er our heartstrings now.
Sleep today, O early fallen,
In thy green and narrow bed.
Dirges from the pine and cypress
Mingle with the tears we shed.
To hear a beautiful piano version of this, go to
http://www.civilwarpoetry.org/union/songs/chair.html and
click on the little box with the notes on it.
Have a thoughtful Memorial Day weekend.
May 22, 2006
Met the Ghost of Stephen Foster at the Hotel Paradise
We are all madly gyrating, a multitude of hula hoops whirling about our hips like electrons circling the nucleus of an atom, each hula hoop representing a social circle in which we travel. If we stand too close to one another, our hula hoops are deflected by the chance blows of our neighbors' hoops.
My hula hoops are falling at my ankles, folks.
Now, before I get accused of being all whiny (which, I'll admit, I am from time to time), I'm just thinking out loud here. Well, thinking in type. (Of course, I type kind of loudly so it could be argued that I'm thinking out loud, I suppose, but that's neither here nor there.)
Let's lay some background... I live at point Alpha, my sister lives 300 miles away at point Beta; our social circles do not overlap except for casual acquaintances from growing up and for family. When my sister was visiting, I introduced my sister to a good girlfriend of mine. They seemed to get along well. My sister visited again for Thanksgiving and I invited the girlfriend to Thanksgiving Dinner. I found out about a year later that they communicate (emails, phone calls) and, to my discomfort, discuss (presumably among other things, please God) me and my mental state. (I found this out through a chance remark by the girlfriend.) This weirds me out a little bit and I decide that, well, if they're going to discuss me, perhaps I oughtn't discuss my mental state with either of them as I'd really prefer they not be comparing notes as to how "off" I am. (Which, of course, leaves me without the two people with whom I discussed things.)
Fast forward 6 months. My sister is inviting the girlfriend to her "very small" wedding. Worlds just are not supposed to collide like that. I mean family is family and friends are friends. I expect to see my family and my friends at my life events and my family and my sister's friends at my sister's life events. This sharing a friend thing is more than a bit peculiar.
Of course, I absolutely recognize that she has the right to invite whoever the hell she wants to. Absolutely. No question about it.
For me, though, there are a couple things going on here. (1) Usurpation of a friend. She used to do this when we were small too. My friends all wanted to play with the cute younger sister. (Common enough, I know.) (2) Usurpation of a sister. I feel like I'm being put at the same level as my girlfriend in my sister's life and nothing more. (3) Frustration. I had hoped to use the wedding weekend, et al, to socialize with the family and family friends that I don't get to see enough; now I have to spend it entertaining a friend and her jerky non-boyfriend that she only keeps around for sex? (4) Guilt. Lots of it for being so selfish. But, damn it all, why am I always the one that sucks it up and makes nicey-nicey for the sake of other people?
Fortunately, it's a wedding, there will be booze. Unfortunately, (a) my mother will be there and (b) we're not made of cellophane.
My hula hoops are falling at my ankles, folks.
Now, before I get accused of being all whiny (which, I'll admit, I am from time to time), I'm just thinking out loud here. Well, thinking in type. (Of course, I type kind of loudly so it could be argued that I'm thinking out loud, I suppose, but that's neither here nor there.)
Let's lay some background... I live at point Alpha, my sister lives 300 miles away at point Beta; our social circles do not overlap except for casual acquaintances from growing up and for family. When my sister was visiting, I introduced my sister to a good girlfriend of mine. They seemed to get along well. My sister visited again for Thanksgiving and I invited the girlfriend to Thanksgiving Dinner. I found out about a year later that they communicate (emails, phone calls) and, to my discomfort, discuss (presumably among other things, please God) me and my mental state. (I found this out through a chance remark by the girlfriend.) This weirds me out a little bit and I decide that, well, if they're going to discuss me, perhaps I oughtn't discuss my mental state with either of them as I'd really prefer they not be comparing notes as to how "off" I am. (Which, of course, leaves me without the two people with whom I discussed things.)
Fast forward 6 months. My sister is inviting the girlfriend to her "very small" wedding. Worlds just are not supposed to collide like that. I mean family is family and friends are friends. I expect to see my family and my friends at my life events and my family and my sister's friends at my sister's life events. This sharing a friend thing is more than a bit peculiar.
Of course, I absolutely recognize that she has the right to invite whoever the hell she wants to. Absolutely. No question about it.
For me, though, there are a couple things going on here. (1) Usurpation of a friend. She used to do this when we were small too. My friends all wanted to play with the cute younger sister. (Common enough, I know.) (2) Usurpation of a sister. I feel like I'm being put at the same level as my girlfriend in my sister's life and nothing more. (3) Frustration. I had hoped to use the wedding weekend, et al, to socialize with the family and family friends that I don't get to see enough; now I have to spend it entertaining a friend and her jerky non-boyfriend that she only keeps around for sex? (4) Guilt. Lots of it for being so selfish. But, damn it all, why am I always the one that sucks it up and makes nicey-nicey for the sake of other people?
Fortunately, it's a wedding, there will be booze. Unfortunately, (a) my mother will be there and (b) we're not made of cellophane.
May 18, 2006
The No-Clever-Title Entry
An info dump of sorts, just to post something, lest y'all think I died or something...
...Discovered today that the grocery store I won't normally shop at has a much broader array of the baby food I prefer. I hate when something like that happens. I hate shopping there because there is always a line at the checkout, I can rarely find what I want but am really good at finding big empty spaces where the product I'm looking for should be, and you just can't get a decent parking space -- even late at night. So, now, if I buy the baby food at the regular grocery store, I'll be thinking, "Oh, I should go to the other store to get ...". Which means more stops. Grrr.
...Have you ever noticed how obsessed guys are with mowing the lawn? It's like a God-given right to mow and heaven forfend should anything get in the way. Honest to God, John, the lawn did not need mowing that badly that I should have to haul the baby all around town to three grocery stores starting at 7 at night.
...Got a very nice "thank you for beta-ing" acknowledgment on a Stargate fic I betaed. It's always nice when that happens. Particularly since I'm kind of a picky beta... Sometimes I think people are sorry they asked me!
...Planted the last two plants (a lilac and a miniature rhododendron) - woohoo!! Now I need to get mulch, window boxes, potting soil, and annuals. Mostly mulch. Lots and lots of mulch. It amazes me how a bag of mulch covers so little ground. Oh, and seeds. I want to put a cutting bed in the backyard (all the work so far has been in the front) so that I can cut flowers for inside without taking all the color out of the beds that people see. I'm just going to put seed mixes in there I think, like I planted when I was a kid.
...Just so's you know, there is a dead skunk under the porch and it reeks. I probably ought to go haul it out of there and bury it. I'm not going to. I'd have to tramp through the flower bed that is finally (after 6 years) starting to take, pry out the nails, crawl the 30' to the other side of the porch, and drag out a rotting carcass. Nope. Not me. It'll stop smelling eventually.
...Oh, and on a smelling note! When I went to get the baby after her afternoon nap today, I could smell her diaper from the doorway (and her crib is on the other side of the room). Whooeey, that was a nasty one...
Some springtime afternoon
You may smell a diaper,
You may smell a diaper
from baby's bedroom door.
Then fly to remove
while baby reproves
and of course he's not home, so you're smelling alone...
(With apologies to Rodgers & Hammerstein)
...Discovered today that the grocery store I won't normally shop at has a much broader array of the baby food I prefer. I hate when something like that happens. I hate shopping there because there is always a line at the checkout, I can rarely find what I want but am really good at finding big empty spaces where the product I'm looking for should be, and you just can't get a decent parking space -- even late at night. So, now, if I buy the baby food at the regular grocery store, I'll be thinking, "Oh, I should go to the other store to get ...". Which means more stops. Grrr.
...Have you ever noticed how obsessed guys are with mowing the lawn? It's like a God-given right to mow and heaven forfend should anything get in the way. Honest to God, John, the lawn did not need mowing that badly that I should have to haul the baby all around town to three grocery stores starting at 7 at night.
...Got a very nice "thank you for beta-ing" acknowledgment on a Stargate fic I betaed. It's always nice when that happens. Particularly since I'm kind of a picky beta... Sometimes I think people are sorry they asked me!
...Planted the last two plants (a lilac and a miniature rhododendron) - woohoo!! Now I need to get mulch, window boxes, potting soil, and annuals. Mostly mulch. Lots and lots of mulch. It amazes me how a bag of mulch covers so little ground. Oh, and seeds. I want to put a cutting bed in the backyard (all the work so far has been in the front) so that I can cut flowers for inside without taking all the color out of the beds that people see. I'm just going to put seed mixes in there I think, like I planted when I was a kid.
...Just so's you know, there is a dead skunk under the porch and it reeks. I probably ought to go haul it out of there and bury it. I'm not going to. I'd have to tramp through the flower bed that is finally (after 6 years) starting to take, pry out the nails, crawl the 30' to the other side of the porch, and drag out a rotting carcass. Nope. Not me. It'll stop smelling eventually.
...Oh, and on a smelling note! When I went to get the baby after her afternoon nap today, I could smell her diaper from the doorway (and her crib is on the other side of the room). Whooeey, that was a nasty one...
Some springtime afternoon
You may smell a diaper,
You may smell a diaper
from baby's bedroom door.
Then fly to remove
while baby reproves
and of course he's not home, so you're smelling alone...
(With apologies to Rodgers & Hammerstein)
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