There are things I understand about genes, and other things I don't. Like, I understand that I can make a clover with my tongue because I have a pair of recessive genes which allow me to do so, and I also understand that I have hazel eyes because I have one BROWN eye gene and one BLUE eye gene. I understand that each of my children have half their genes in common with me, and so theoretically that means we will have many things in common. I even understand that some recessive genetic things will cause my children to be very different than I am. But I do not understand the recessive bionic...
So, as I may have mentioned, I've been having a little trouble with my neck. On the one hand, it's handy for sniping at the children. "STOP BEING A PAIN IN MY NECK!" I can grouse, pointing at my poor neck, ensuring their therapist can buy a boat as well as a summer home. Sadly, I have only availed myself of that option in my mind, because I fear to do otherwise would be poor parenting. Also, who has time to say such things when the little darlings are busy scrubbing the floor with toothbrushes and need whipping? But, yeah, it's been kind of a drag. I don't know what I did, either. I mean,...
I am a deal-maker. I don't know why. It's just something I'm prone to, and always have been---I can't even blame it on the kids. Life is one big if-then statement, in my world. And sometimes it makes sense, I guess. Some things do logically follow from others, or at least relate to others. But some things aren't even slightly related until I decide that they should be. Other things are related but acted upon in a less-than-logical manner. I may need some sort of support group. Convoluted Conclusions Anonymous, or something. Clearly I need to demonstrate with some examples, because all of...
It's been nearly four months since my daughter went vegetarian, and so far everyone is still alive. I would say our meat consumption as a family has gone down by about 50%, and my love of black beans has gone up about 500%. Chickadee appears to be having no trouble sticking to her new lifestyle, and I have only found Otto hiding behind the house gnawing on a T-bone once. (I'm kidding.) (It was a package of sausage.) Sometimes I make a "meat" entree for the rest of us and a "faux meat analog" for my daughter, of course, but a lot of the time I try to make a vegetarian meal that everyone will...
So, um, I was doing really well with my whole Wii Fit exercise regime right up until I got sick. And then I didn't work out for a couple of weeks, because first I wasn't well enough and then I just didn't want to overtax myself while I was recovering. And then I wasn't working out because I'd just been sick for two weeks and I was verrrrry far behind on work and needed all of my time to catch up. And then I wasn't working out because I was out of the habit and also I prefer being lazy and y'know, I'm pretty sure that Mercury was in retrograde and also that my magic 8 ball said ALL SIGNS...
I took Monkey in for an eye exam yesterday, due to my lightning fast reaction time and the fact that I've been worried about his vision for a few months, now. (In my defense, we were also waiting on some changes to our health insurance coverage to kick in, plus the holiday travel kind of screwed up everything in the entire world.) (Yes, everything. That plant of yours that died? Totally the fault of our recent trip. I apologize.) The optometrist was a kindly older gentleman who couldn't have been a day over 95. I don't really know what it is about optometry that makes a man keep working at...
It seems like just last week when I was singing the praises of my new Wii Fit, probably because that was just last week. I swear this is a product custom-made for sedentary hermits if ever there was one. I continue to be amazed at how perfect it is for someone like me. The Fit commercial should go like this: "Are you approaching middle age? Does your job leave you sitting at the computer for most of the day? Do you hate to exercise? Are you not particularly fond of other people? Does leaving the house during the day seem overrated? Are you concerned that soon your butt might, in fact,...
Well, hey, I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news is that it turns out that I'm not a hypochondriac! That's good to know. But, uh, the bad news is that I'm not a hypochondriac. I published that post a couple of days ago at about quarter after nine in the morning. As I wrote it I was still wrestling with the whole "Am I actually sick or am I just FEARFUL of becoming sick and also something of a drama queen?" Honestly, I was ready to believe I was MAKING myself sick with fear ABOUT getting sick. As I've discussed here before, I'm extremely emetaphobic and easily freaked...
I feel crappy. Of course, this is a total change from the way I normally feel, which is... ummm... mostly crappy. And whenever I travel I usually manage to come down with something, because it's a special talent of mine and also because my immune system is apparently a delicate flower. Also, there is a special circle of hell reserved for the experience of being sick away from home. But the reality is that I'm probably not even sick. (I hope. I hope I hope IhopeIhope.) I'm just being a hypochondriac. A hypochondriac with an upset stomach. Possibly because my poor brother-in-law started puking...
