Archive | January, 2010

Contacts and kitties and baths, oh my!

I know, I know; I completely missed Love Thursday this week. In my defense, I spent most of yesterday trying to figure out how the heck I sprained my ankle doing nothing. (What can I say? I’m unbelievably klutzy fragile talented.) You can read about that and my general hatred of everything fitness related this week over in my weekly post at Five Full Plates, but here is the summary: WAH WAH WAH THIS SUCKS.

You’re welcome.

One spot of good news, though, is that Dr. Fancypants came through and supposedly a contact lens prescription has been faxed to our local place for Chickadee. Is it true? I have no idea. I’m headed over there this afternoon to see if we can actually get her some contacts. I’m hopeful, while still poised for crushing frustration, you understand. (more…)

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Can you see me now?

My baby would forgive me if she ended up going blind because I couldn’t figure out what the hell her various eye care professionals were smoking, right? I’m sure she would. I mean, it’s not like she’s ever mad at me about things that aren’t even my fault, or like she overreacts to the smallest provocation, or…

HAHAHAHAAAAAAA.

Holy crap, I’m doomed. I may as well hand her a voodoo doll and a white cane for her birthday this year, I think.

Perhaps it’s my fault. (Oh, who am I kidding? OF COURSE it’s my fault.) I should’ve taken her to her last eye appointment. But the yearly trek into Atlanta to see the Pediatric Wonky Eyes Specialist involves, you know, driving into Atlanta, and I try very hard not to do that if I don’t have to. So I’d suckered Otto into taking her, and I thought everything was all set. (more…)

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The wind beneath my things

After a week of having a bookcase sitting squarely in the middle of my office (don’t ask), yesterday the Grand Office Redesign of 2010 was completed. Basically I spent half the day wallowing and the other half realizing that my aversion to the work of getting reorganized was steadily being outweighed by the annoyance of HAVING A BOOKCASE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM OH MY GOD.

Plus, you know, it was really stressing out the dog. The bookcase was creating a wall between the futon where she likes to snooze all day and the chair at my new desk, so she couldn’t BOTH be a slug AND keep watch over me, so she was spending the day bouncing back and forth between the futon (comfort! but lack of watchdog capability!) and trying to sleep directly under my feet (cramped! and with accompanying cranky human!).

Anyway, it’s all done. I mean, it’s mostly done. Look, if you walk into the room, it totally looks like we set it up this way on purpose, and there aren’t any extraneous pieces of furniture hulking aimlessly in the middle of the floor for no apparent reason. That has to count for something. (more…)

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This too shall pass

I spent much of the weekend licking my wounds, except it was figurative, of course, which was a good thing, because if I’d been trying to LITERALLY lick anything on my body I might’ve screwed up my neck more than it was already screwed up.

[Typical conversation with my chiropractor over the last few days:
Her: Does this hurt?
Me: IT ALL HURTS.
Her: But does it hurt MORE?
Me: Maybe. Can you make it hurt LESS? Or could you maybe just KILL ME?]

So my neck was hurting and my ego was hurting and my everything-is-going-to-be-fine meter was freaking out and I figured I would just sulk for a few days and then come back and tell you a funny story about the dog, because HEY! Everyone loves funny stories about the dog!

It was such a good plan, too. (more…)

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That’s what she said

It’s Friday, and that means I’m over at Five Full Plates today. If my neck wasn’t so jacked up I might be talking about exercise or even bemoaning my current weight, but as it is I’m nearly immobile and so have resorted to telling you about what I put in my mouth this week.

Insert your own jokes. You know you want to.

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Love soaks up the sun

I spent most of yesterday feeling very sorry for myself, and have a good head start on doing more of the same, today.

My neck is out. This used to happen with a fair amount of regularity, but it hasn’t happened in a long time. I think I thought I was “over” it; that whatever was injured in that long-ago car accident had finally been healed or at least cracked into submission by the chiropractor. And here as I stand on the brink of what is perhaps the healthiest period of my life—I am eating a high protein, low fat, mostly fresh, antioxidant-rich diet, and exercising daily for the first time since my childhood—I managed to wake up yesterday morning almost unable to move.

When I commented that “this sucks” to Otto, Chickadee wagged her finger at me and told me to “find a nicer word,” and I told her that I most certainly would not, because it DOES suck. Winning parental moment, right there. I am a role model for the ages, no? (more…)

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Sense of self

I used to say that everything I ever needed to know about having good self esteem, I learned from my son when he was not yet 5. His continual belief that he was, in fact, all that and a bag of chips AS WELL AS a chocolate milkshake and TWO cookies, has long since been the stuff of family legends. And while Monkey’s particular road has been a little bumpy of late, his essential belief that he rocks seems to be inborn.

Chickadee, on the other hand, is more delicate. Part of it, I’m sure, is that she’s a girl and girls are relentlessly cruel to one another in a way boys seem far too busy rolling around in the mud together to bother with. Another part of it is simply that she’s of a different constitution; it has always mattered to her that others affirm her worth, her beauty, her purpose.

This makes my heart ache for her. The world is a harsh place for those who need reassurance from without rather than finding it from within. I know this because I used to be the same way, and it’s taken me half a lifetime to thicken up my skin. While I won’t deny that it “builds character,” it’s not the sort of thing I ever would’ve wished on my child. (more…)

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There’s a hole in my desk. . .

… dear Otto, dear Otto… a hole in my de-esk, dear Otto, a hole.

Dear Otto. Dearest, darling Otto. He’s the one putting holes in my desk, by the way.

Okay, I probably need to back this up.

When I first started freelancing, I marveled at the wonder of being able to make a job out of late nights spent hunched over my laptop in the middle of my bed. This is GENIUS, I thought! Who needs an office?

Eventually, though, I moved operations down to a desk in our family room, lest I end up a chiropractor’s dream. And as time went on, I dreamed of having an actual office; a room where I could concentrate on work and close a door between the children and myself when necessary. Surely THAT would be perfect.

Then we moved to this house, and I got my office. And I shared it with Otto, and I liked that, because I am rather fond of that guy. But Otto is tidy and I am perpetually disorganized and eventually he moved out of our office in a snit. (more…)

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Dubious praise

Me: So now that I’m putting this stuff in her water, have you noticed a difference in the Death Breath? I mean, do you think it’s working? I think maybe it is.
Him: Well, I think now it’s more like Terminally Ill Breath than Death Breath. That’s an improvement, right?

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Read my hips

It’s Friday, and that means I’m over at Five Full Plates with support and inspiration for this whole “getting fit” thing.

Or maybe I’m just gnashing my teeth and rending my garments.

Or maybe I’m still coming to terms with the reality that it may be time to pony up and buy a decent scale. Does anyone have a recommendation for a good scale that’s not too pricey?

Alternatively, does anyone have some chocolate they’d like to give me? I’m just trying to keep my arteries clear, people.

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