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So a few of you have asked…

… how The Vagina Monologues is going. It’s going! I am rusty, much rustier than I expected. I mean, sure, getting up on stage is just like riding a bike in that I guess you kind of have this kinesthetic memory that doesn’t forget how it all works, but on the other hand, I’m guessing that if you hadn’t ridden a bike for twenty years and then hopped on one, it wouldn’t be the smoothest ride, either. I’m working on it (and feeling ooooold).

But! The people are great, the show is fabulous, and I am having oodles of fun. Also: I now own faux-snakeskin skinny jeans. YES. Purchased specifically for the show, though it is my teenager’s deepest fear that I will spontaneously go all cougar and wear them out in public at random, for the express purpose of mortifying her. (Otto did get a funny little glint in his eye when I modeled them for him, but still, not gonna happen.)

While I’m telling you about the show, though, I’ll direct you over to my post today at Off Our Chests—I’m thinking about the implications of certain words and what it may mean to rethink some of our assumptions. (Hint: female anatomy ahoy, y’all.)

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Comments { 9 }

It’s not contagious

We had a pretty uneventful weekend, here. We watched football (go Patriots!). We grumbled about the weather. I swore I was going to do laundry and go grocery shopping and then I did lots of laundry but neglected to go grocery shopping, which meant that this morning I packed everyone a delicious lunch of various odds and ends, and have hereby sworn that TODAY, no really, today, I SWEAR, I’ll go get groceries.

The kids saw their dad. Chickadee’s quiz bowl team defeated their most loathed rival team at Regionals but ultimately didn’t go on to State. While they were doing that, I was at play rehearsal and Otto staked out the District Science Fair, where all the kids who were busy at the Bowl were winning at the Fair but couldn’t be there. (Chickadee’s project—which was a DRAHHHMAAAAHHH of epic proportions for several months—has now taken first place in category at both school and district levels, and she is now on to Regionals still vowing that nothing less than first place will do. So glad she’s not putting any pressure on herself. Ahem.)

Otto and I didn’t do anything special, really. We shuffled the kids around and worked in our respective offices and played with the dog and ate popcorn and tended to the minutiae of daily life, and never once did I stop to think OMG OUR MARRIAGE COULD IMPLODE AT ANY MOMENT. (more…)

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Comments { 48 }

Picture me holding a lighter in solidarity

Hey, guess what. I like the Internet. I like freedom of speech. I do not like SOPA or PIPA.

Rather than blacking out my site or lecturing you, allow me to refer you to The Oatmeal’s excellent explanation of why this matters. Enjoy.

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Comments { 16 }

Yep, it’s another menstruation-themed post

But at least today I’m not putting it here. It’s actually over at Off Our Chests, because writing about our little saga this weekend got me thinking about various tampon-related issues from my youth.

Or, rather, the youth of those who honestly had no clue what was going on when they finally came of age.

C’mon over and join the conversation. I happen to know from yesterday’s post that y’all have PLENTY of stories to share.

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Comments { 4 }

PSA: Kotex Security tampons

“I would never blog this,” I told her, after.

“What? You HAVE to blog about it!” she said. “People should KNOW. It’s DANGEROUS.” I asked if she was sure, and she said yes. So please be mindful of the fact that my easily-mortified teenager gave me the green light on this one, and let’s acknowledge first and foremost that she 1) is a rockstar for overcoming possible embarrassment to let me share and 2) has delicate little feelings which I would ask you not to hurt if you feel the need to comment. Also, if you are male and ESPECIALLY if you are related to my teenager (Otto, my dad, and her dad who is pretending not to read my blog), maybe skip this one.

To begin our story, let us hearken back to the days of young teenage Mir. It was a different place, a different time. (Namely, it was the Stone Age.) When I got my first period I was ABSOLUTELY THRILLED (why? I don’t know), and I also used tampons right from the beginning and thought it was no big deal.

But my girl and I are a little different in this respect. (more…)

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Comments { 107 }

Blah blah blah new year blah blah blah

Hey, let’s all pretend this is the first day of the rest of our lives in a somehow more important way than every other day is the first day of the rest of our lives. Okay? Okay!

(Probably we should’ve done this on Sunday—the Actual First Day Of The Brand New Yay Year—but I was busy sitting in the car all day, eating all of the potato chips in the world and asking Otto “Are we there yet?”)

I’m over at Off Our Chests, today, pondering new year’s resolutions, and whether they make any sense to me. Do they make sense to you? Come on over and let’s talk.

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Comments { 3 }

It’s… educational!

You guys. I… I can’t even. Because words fail.

A couple of weeks ago someone posted this on Facebook, and I watched it with a mix of horror and delight. Because LOOK:

And I made Otto watch it, too. And Otto said, “No. YOU ARE NOT WATCHING THAT WHEN IT COMES ON TV.” And I argued, and he kept saying no, and then last night I was channel-surfing and it was on and he was upstairs, so I watched it. With Chickadee. (more…)

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Comments { 56 }

My many first-world problems

Sometimes I sit down to write something and I feel like such a colossal douche I consider just skipping the blog entry and ridiculing myself internally, instead. But then I realize that’s no fun at all, and I share it all with you.

YOU ARE WELCOME.

Here at Casa Mir I am fraught with THE BUSY, because time is running out, school vacation and The Big Trek North are almost upon us, and there are a million things I have not done, cannot do, must accomplish, blah blah blahbbity blahhhhhh and all of it is unimportant, I mean mostly, and yet it’s eating up my head space. I’m forever exhorting my children to USE ALL THAT BRAIN POWER FOR GOOD RATHER THAN EVIL, and perhaps I should take my own advice. Except in my case I should probably use that brain power for the betterment of humanity instead of for middle-class minutiae. And I will. As soon as I take care of this other stuff. (more…)

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Comments { 29 }

You’ll shoot your eye out, kid (or not)

Monkey went to a birthday party this weekend. Now, on the one hand: Monkey went to a birthday party this weekend. In fact, Monkey has received no less than four birthday party invitations since beginning his time at Hippie School, and if you’re a longtime reader I probably don’t have to spell this out (but I will, anyway, because saying it out loud makes me marvel all over again), but four birthday party invitations is… oh… roughly FOUR MORE than he received in the previous couple of years combined.

Hippie School is terribly tolerant and inclusive, and I love and cherish that so much, even if it means we get an invitation to a 5-year-old’s party and Monkey’s response is “Why would I want to go to THAT?” (Answer: Because you’re all one big happy family now, DAMMIT.) Of course, this opens up a whole new avenue for us, because now instead of him always being left out we actually have to PICK and CHOOSE from the MANY party opportunities. Which is weird. And wonderful.

Parties can be a little overwhelming for him, so we’ve turned down several invitations. But this weekend was Luigi’s party, so off we went. (more…)

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Comments { 30 }

Actually, right now it’s delighted

So remember how I was all “Grrrrr, people make me mad and we need more girl power in the world!” and so I was going to go audition for The Vagina Monologues basically because my daughter asked me to? And then I didn’t say anything else about it and several of you emailed me and were all “Oh hey, whatever happened with that?” And I sort of did the email equivalent of “Hmmm, yeah, I dunno, OH LOOK, SOMETHING SHINY!” and didn’t really tell you?

I was waiting, see.

The audition itself was quite brief—surprisingly so, I thought—and I was left wondering if I was so awful they cut me off to save themselves or if I was so awesome that they decided to cast me on the spot and no further reading was necessary. (I have NO IDEA where my son gets that whole black/white assessment of the world from. Curious.) I went away and agonized for a few days, then later got a general “welcome to the cast, more info to follow” email.

More info arrived this evening. I read for the Angry Vagina monologue and that’s what I got! Apparently I am totally believable as cranky genitalia. I choose to take this as a compliment.

[Related: HOLY SHIT I haven't acted in two decades and I thought a good way to reacquaint myself with the stage would be to get up in front of a bunch of people and bitch about tampons and pap smears?! Of course I did.]

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Comments { 71 }
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