Oh, hi there! I was thinking about you all morning. Yes, YOU. Many thanks to everyone who chimed in with suggestions for my daughter's warts (though no one suggested I set aside more money for therapy after discussing her wartiness with the entire internet, interesting). We went out yesterday and got her some Neem soap and some colloidal silver and also some tongue of newt and eye of wombat, plus I ordered some stuff to tape up horses, or something, I DON'T KNOW, it's kind of all a blur, now. But thank you for all of your collective expertise and kind words, it really was very helpful. And...
So, um, it turns out that my daughter has a highly contagious skin virus called Molloscum Contagiosum. She did not appreciate the various jokes I cracked, asking her when she'd become a marine invertebrate, so I switched to shouting "MOLLOSCUM CONTAGIOSUM!" at her with a flourish of my invisible wand, and then asking her why she had failed to levitate. For some reason, Chickadee spent a lot of time rolling her eyes at me, yesterday. I cannot IMAGINE why. But I had to make light, you know, because otherwise I would've had to cry. Molloscum isn't serious---she's not sick or anything, and...
My name is Mir, and although I am nearing 37 years of age, I have never really been on a diet before. Oh, there were a few times when I idly said, "You know? It might be good to lose a few pounds," and I was GOOD and VIRTUOUS for a day or two, right up until I saw something shiny and tripped and fell face-first into a bag of Oreos. I just never really had the need/motivation to diet---I have always been naturally skinny, and--- OW! Stop THROWING THINGS! Correction: I always HAD been naturally skinny. Past tense. Put down your tomatoes (besides, haven't you heard? They're covered in...
So yesterday Otto and I went out to run some errands and go to our first appointment with the specialist Monkey will be seeing, because for the first appointment just the parents get to go. We spent a lot of time sitting in the waiting room, and then a lot of time telling the nice doctor our entire medical history (well, mine and Monkey's, anyway), until somewhere around the "Has your cousin's step-sister's uncle's father ever had bursitis?" question I became sorely tempted to tell him that I had JUST REMEMBERED that actually, Monkey is adopted and we have no medical history on him...
I'm not the sort of person to blog about what goes on in therapy, usually. I mean, why would I tell you about that when there are so many more interesting things to talk about, like mammograms and surly children and such? The point is that I generally consider that to be a situation above reproach and somewhat sacred/private. [Well, usually. There was that one marriage counselor my ex and I saw who sat in an oversize rocking chair, sipping I'm not sure what (tea? bourbon?) from a mason jar and telling us---in the midst of what anyone could see was a badly broken marriage---that if we just...
You people are all so very sweet. Really. I love you all. Here, have a pony. No, wait---have two. But honest to Jesus, folks, you have PLEASE got to stop emailing to tell me that my data is recoverable. As I spelled out earlier today, it turns out that my MacBook had a Seagate drive with a known habit of, oh, BREAKING INTO PIECES. Apparently the heads snap off and scratch the disk all to shit as an added bonus. The result is that yes, I probably COULD pay upwards of two grand to have 20% of my data recovered in fragments, or I could just practice that thing called acceptance and move on with...
There's that old saying---and it's absolutely true, just ask anyone---about how moms don't get sick. We're supposed to be invincible, you know, and failing that, at least uncomplaining. We're one step up from mail carriers; neither rain nor sleet nor hacking cough can deter us from our appointed nagging. Well, I've never been invincible and I pretty much complain even when I'm well. It's not a good set-up for that whole Supermom gig, I guess. Of course it figures that I would be felled by a virus just as the Today Show furor is dying down, and life is feeling somewhat normal... and then...
Every now and then one member of the family manages to visit a proclivity on the rest of us, and before you know it, we're all loving or doing the same thing. Hey, I never used to be a HUGE fan of fish. I mean, I liked fish just fine. I cooked it occasionally. But it was never one of my big things. Back when Monkey still lived on big cups of milk and butter-slathered bread crusts and turned up his nose at nearly everything else, he refused to eat beef. Or pork. Or chicken. Or anything with any protein at all, which caused me to fret that he would forever be just three feet tall and spindly....
Hey, the GOOD news is that I don't have any cavities! That's due to my patented method of brushing often, never flossing, and having good genes. (I should totally write a book. "You Too Can Have Pretty Strong Teeth, Unless You Don't, In Which Case You Can Suck It, But Hopefully Not Before You Buy This Book!") Let's review: I do not like the dentist, Sam-I-Am. After a long dental care hiatus, my return to the dentist was somewhat traumatic, you may remember. But I soldiered on! I kept up with it! Even when I started having cavities and other problems! I'm like a battered woman who's CONVINCED...
