It's been a long, cold, lonely winter (in all senses both literal and metaphorical). The arrival of spring has us all but dancing around with cartoon wildlife. Never has a return to normal life and pleasant temperatures been more highly anticipated than this year, I'm thinking. And never has there been a happier canine than one Spoiled Rotten Licorice, who is reaping the benefits of our spring-drunkeness in spades. The nice thing about a tiny little mutt like her---12 pounds of terror, man---is that she doesn't HAVE to have a daily walk. She's not an insane breed whose brain goes berserk...
At first I was going to say that this post was NSFW, but upon reflection, that's TRUE, but an incomplete caution. This post is not safe for work, home, in your car, with a fox, in a box, or with any breakfast product, rhyming or not. Honestly it's not safe anyone at all. If there are small children in the room, do not read this post. If you are of delicate sensibility, please do not read this post. If you are not in the mood to be completely horrified, for the love of God: I'm trying to explain to you that you should not read this post. If you---like me---believe that the only redeeming...
I have a variety of not-long-enough-to-be-a-complete-post stories which are either 1) still interesting enough for sharing or 2) mind-numbingly dull but I don't realize that and insist you must know, and therefore that shall result in this, a disjointed mishmash of unrelated things all in one place. It's just like my junk drawer! Only with more words and fewer pen caps!! (Moral of this story: If you need a paperclip and a button, I'm your gal.) There's a slight twinge of remorse here that I don't have a more exciting life or whatever, but on the other hand, I got up this morning and brought...
I want to say stuff about how it's going with Chickadee, because I am so happy, every minute, and still whispering to Otto, "Is this real?" and surreptitiously pinching myself because it's so much better than I'd dared to hope for, having her back home. I don't want to say anything about how it's going with Chickadee, because if I've learned anything over the last 18 months or so, it's that the things you think you can control or anticipate as a parent can change in an instant, in terrible ways, in ways you never considered, in ways that make people judge your family for things which truly...
As soon as we started having full-cast rehearsals for The Vagina Monologues, most of us noticed something weird: We had a disproportionately high number of redheads in the cast. Now, I'm guessing not all of them were natural redheads, but still. Only something like 1% of the world's population has red hair, and according to Wikipedia ("they can't put anything on the Internet that isn't true"), here in the U.S. only between 2-6% of the population is red-headed. In a cast of 28 women, we had 8 redheads. That's almost a third. Apparently when it comes to talking about their lady-bits, redheads...
One of the things I love about doing a play is that it completely lifts me out of my regular existence of largely being a hermit, spending my days alone at the computer, spending my evenings with Monkey and Otto and then vegetating on the couch in front of some truly horrible television programming. [Sidebar: So now that we all know that Storage Wars is fake you'd think we'd stop watching it. You'd think we would remove it and Storage Wars Texas from our DVR. You would not think that we would continue popping popcorn and plunking ourselves down to watch these shows every week like they were...
To be filed under Things I Never Thought I'd Be Blogging About At My Advanced Age: Breastfeeding. Specifically, I have to tell you something about back when I WAS breastfeeding. You know, a dozen years ago. I have teenagers; let me tell you about my breast milk! That won't embarrass anyone AT ALL. But it's germaine to the topic at hand, which I solemnly swear to circuitously reach in due time. Probably. More specifically: When Chickadee was a wee floppy baby, I breastfed her, and I also pumped now and again because I truly bought the hype that formula was THE DEVIL, as young mothers who know...
I may have mentioned a few (dozen) times that I'm in a play this week...? Possibly? And one of the super things about putting on a production of The Vagina Monologues is that it really doesn't require any sort of set or costuming or anything. Basically the director picks a theme for what the cast will wear and then everyone goes home and pulls something out of their closet and whatever. Boom. Done. Last year we had to wear black, purple and gray, in whatever combinations we wanted. That was really easy, frankly, since I wear those three colors kind of a lot, anyway. This did not stop me,...
So I think I mentioned that I'm doing The Vagina Monologues again, this year. (Do you live in northeast Georgia? You should totally come see it next week!) I love everything about being in this show. EVERYTHING. I love being in a show, period. I love being surrounded by a group of kick-ass women. I love raising money for a worthy cause. I love knowing we're raising awareness. I love the way Monkey's face contorts when he references, "That... SHOW... you're in." (One day I started reciting my lines in the car and he said, "What the HECK, Mom? YOU ARE INAPPROPRIATE.") Basically, it's all good....
