A handy guide to your convalescence, according to the wisdom of one of the world’s foremost not-quite-eight-year-old melodramatic possible-hypochondriacs.
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Apropos of absolutely nothing, I feel the need to discuss typing. Right here, right now. Can you touch type? I can touch type, if by “touch type” you mean “type rapidly without looking at the keys.” But if you take “touch type” to mean “type the way they teach you in school,” then no, I admit it. I cannot.
I suffer from a rare disorder known as… ummm… Uncoordinated Pinkies.
So I touch type, but I move my hands around too much, because I cannot, in fact, use my pinkies to depress keys. My pinkies are useless. With my current method, I can still type about 80 wpm. Just imagine how speedy I’d be if I typed properly!
Okay, we now return you to our regularly scheduled somewhat cohesive post.
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Oh, whoops. Did I forget to post last night? I did. I actually considered posting, but it kept coming out sort of like this:
Grumble, whine, grrrrr, hate hate hate, WAAAAH.
Fascinating, I know, but it seemed like I ought to spare you.
Today I have about fifty gazillion deadlines looming (yes, I rock at math) and so you will have to find some other way to entertain yourselves. But, because I am all about the love and the sharing, I will help.
Make sure your speakers are on, then go watch this. Very, very cool. (Thanks, Rudy!)
Before I begin, I’d like to let everyone know that the very pretty Shelley is holding a contest called She’s Funny That Way. The winner will receive a copy of Shelley’s book and so you should go read all about it and enter and all of that good stuff. Okay? Okay!
Besides, we all know someone funny we can write about. Except me. All I can write about at the moment is that I am old and stupid. And not a yak.
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I grew up in one of those obstinate climates where it often snowed in May, where the cloudy days stretched on forever (it sometimes seemed), and where the rare perfect day made it all seem worth it.
I didn’t know, at the time, that I was living in the Land of the Parenting Metaphor.
Sometimes, you have days where it seems like a pat on the back is warranted. Just look! At my kids! They are SO WONDERFUL!
Just don’t forget your umbrella.
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After much whispering together, inform me that you’ve both decided to take the entire contents of your “donate” compartments and give it to me for the walk. When the pooled amount is determined to be $10, wait until your brother has wandered off and solemnly pull an additional bill from your “spending” compartment and inform me that “every dollar counts, so take this one, too.”
When I ask how you’d like your donation appear on the honor roll, tell me that “It should say Chickadee and Monkey, OF COURSE,” and after some thought, add, “and we want it to be in honor of your friend Julie, too. So she gets better soon.”
Then rescue me from my rapid melting into a puddle of ectoplasmic goo by remarking, “I bet you don’t want to sell me to the gypsies NOW, do you, Mama!”
I cannot believe so many people are interested in my snot. I don’t know whether to be flattered or horrified.
Actually, I’ll pick flattered, because my mother is horrified enough for most of the world. Apparently–much like my use of “suck” as abhored by my old advisor–my usage of the word “snot” is disturbing. My mother would prefer that I use the word “mucous.”
I think the word MUCOUS sounds wet and squishy and like squids might be sliding around in your sinuses, ready to *plop* into your lap at any moment. The word makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It makes me gag a little. On the other hand, the word SNOT doesn’t bother me at all. But it bothers my mom enough to cause her to tell me about how when she was in college, girls weren’t allowed to wear pants. I’m sure it was related, somehow. (Kidding, Mom! I was hanging on your every word!)
So from now on, for the comfort of all concerned, I’d like us all to refer to THAT SUBSTANCE as “nose pudding.”
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My advisor in grad school would visibly cringe every time I declared “that sucks,” which is (I confess) something that I seem to say quite often. One day he turned to me in exasperation and said, “Do you KNOW what the derivation of that expression is? I mean, do you UNDERSTAND to what you are referring?”
I grinned at his obvious discomfort. He came from a background in linguistics and this was clearly killing him. “Yes, I am aware. But I believe current colloquial usage trumps the original evolution.”
“Well it makes me uncomfortable,” he said. “I’m old enough to remember when that was an extremely CRUDE thing to say. Is there another phrase you might use, instead?”
“Oh, sure,” I acquiesced. “I’m sorry. ” I thought for a moment. “I meant to say… THAT BLOWS.”
(I don’t think he was too heartbroken when I graduated.)
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Hey, know what we haven’t talked about for a while? That’s RIGHT! My BOOBS!
[Don’t you just wish you were me, or at least a fly on the wall for the “Hey, I have to tell you about this website I have…” conversation I had last night? I’m all about full disclosure. Even as I find myself mired in a discussion which I realize makes me sound like a complete freak.
Me: So, I, uh, write about ALL KINDS of things. Like, EVERYTHING.
Him: Okay.
Me: I mean it. Like even stuff most people wouldn’t talk about.
Him: Alright.
Me: Like YEAST INFECTIONS. You might not want to read it. (Thinking to myself: And you might not want to talk to me anymore, either. Did I just bring up vaginal fungus to a man I’m hoping to someday see naked? I think I did. What the hell is wrong with me?)
Him: Ooooooookay….]
So, um, yeah. Where was I? Oh, right! BOOBS!
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I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but Chickadee’s therapist had the AUDACITY to go have a baby, leaving us therapist-less for a couple of months. I mean, there are back-up staff available in the event of an emergency. I’m not sure what would constitute an emergency, really. If she burned the house down? Or held up a fellow second-grader with a pair of safety scissors? Threw her brother down the stairs? Started reading cheesy romance novels?
So, every now and then something happens and I’m left wondering if we’re Having An Issue or if it’s just coincidence or I’m overreacting or what. Like, say, right now.
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