Arrivables!
Today I left the house for a while and went out and wandered aimlessly, because it felt like I’d been in the house a few too many days in a row. I went out to a store and tried on some clothing that didn’t fit. It reminded me that I’m still a citizen of the world. The world which has been designed by and for the assless, in fact.
When I got home, two important things had happened. One: My mail had come, and with it, a small package from the excellent and very pretty Joshilyn. I love her so much that I’m not even upset that it wasn’t a gibbon. She had TOLD me she was shipping me a gibbon and I’d already planned to name him Mr. Jingles. So, well, I was almost a little bit disappointed, but in lieu of a gibbon she sent something EVEN COOLER which is not the point of this entry, so I’ll tell you about that tomorrow.
The second important thing that happened was that I was finally out of the house long enough to reset my nose.
read more…
Espresso chip as panacea
Y’all are so nice. And pretty! So pretty! Thank you for indulging my tantrum yesterday, for a tantrum is what it was. I’m better now. I mean, yes, WAH WAH WAH I DON’T LIKE THIS, it sucks to be told that something is wrong but they don’t know what or how to fix it. But in the grand scheme of things, I should shut up already.
Because, basically, there are three possibilities:
1) I have something awful and/or terminal, in which case I am wasting this period of blissful ignorance with worrying when I should be either shopping or eating chocolate.
2) I have something fairly run-of-the-mill and they’ll figure it out and fix it shortly, in which case I’m wasting this interim period with worrying when I should just go take a nap.
3) I have a little nothing that will be gone in another couple of antibiotic-saturated days, in which case I should drink a nice big cup of STFU and move on, already.
Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see which it is. Until then, come on over and have some ice cream with me!
read more…
Which part of this is priceless?
I’m breaking it down by the numbers, folks, and there is no redeeming bottom line (yet) that I can see. I mean, I’m looking for it. I am. But mostly all I’m finding is that I’m crabby. Which is not, strictly speaking, a discovery.
On the one hand, everyone keeps assuring me that I probably don’t have cancer. Which is great! I mean, I’m PROBABLY not going to get hit by a bus today, either. Or come down with a flesh-eating virus. Just knowing that these things are IMPROBABLE is enough to keep me from worrying about them. And so it ought to be with this, except that the whole slightly-puzzled expression that tends to come with this assurance is throwing me off my game just a tad.
The surgeon I saw this morning was a pip, though. After she’d finished her poking and prodding and hrming and drawing pictures (another one that draws cartoon boobs! perky! excellent!) she said, “Well, I don’t think you’re dying.” And that was… probably reassuring.
read more…
I wish I’d saved it for you
First things first: I am continuing my deep and abiding love for Tae Kwon Do. Not only did Chickadee crane around and flap her belt at me in excitement today (“LOOK MAMA,” she mouthed, “ALL MY STRIPES!”), but I arrived for pick-up in time to watch the class go through a short routine where there was punching and positioning and HI-YAing and it was really quite impressive.
And not just because MY wonderful and talented child (who is, by the way, one of the youngest in the class) was one of maybe only 5 (in 30 kids!) who had successfully passed both memorization quizzes and earned maximum stripes. (Aren’t you glad I’m not one of those moms who brags on her kids?)
Anyway. Likely I cannot, you know, form a fulfilling relationship with Tae Kwon Do wherein it brings me snacks while I’m watching television. For that, I may need one of those, um, you know. Man-things. A guy. But you KNOW how I feel about the whole guy thing. So I thought I’d get some perspective from a friend of mine who is perhaps not as jaded and cynical and I am.
read more…
Mommy Mnemonic
I had about a million things I needed to do this weekend.
Fortunately, the kids were spending the weekend with their father, which theoretically freed me up to get lots of things done.
Unfortunately, I’m fighting a whopper of a cold.
Fortunately, I didn’t let that stop me from beginning my training on Saturday morning. Said training being heading out BEFORE DAWN like CRAZY PEOPLE to see how far we could walk before our noses succumbed to frostbite and fell off. (Answer: Farther than we’d thought.)
Unfortunately, I seem to be sicker today, after having done that. Go figure.
All of which is to say, I’m not feeling particularly productive or bright these last few days.
read more…
A fond look back
Sometimes you have to look a bit deeper to really understand a word’s true meaning in context. In this case, I don’t so much mean “fond” as “horrified,” but it’s an irony thing, you see. We writers do that, sometimes. We say one thing in order to imply another. It’s crazy! What’s next? I don’t know! Perhaps utter chaos!
A couple of women whom I admire greatly have recently bared their sordid pasts just to allow us a few moments of hilarity. First Jenn got out her big mall hair and hoop earrings, then Holly showed off her purple Disney glasses and Coolio hairdo. It’s a thing of beauty when us gals can share this way, don’t you think?
Well, I started digging around. You may wish to avert your eyes.
read more…
You don’t say
(Special! Bonus! Friday! Mini-entry!)
Me: Hey buddy, I hear you got a time out at recess.
Monkey: … yeah…
Me: Wanna tell me what happened?
Monkey: No thank you!
Me: Yeah, um, it’s not really optional.
Chickadee: Yeah, Monkey, that was a returgical question.
Me: Rhetorical. And not exactly.
Chickadee: That’s what I SAID. *huffy sigh*
Me: Okay. Monkey? What happened?
Monkey: We were playing a GAME.
Me: And…?
Monkey: Miss Teacher thought I tackled C.
Me: Did you?
Monkey: No!
Me: Okay. Did C… fall down? And then maybe… you fell on top of him?
Monkey: It’s not like he was CRYING or anything.
Me: Oh, well then.
Totally not thinking about that other thing
In case you haven’t noticed, The Sarcastic Journalist gave birth to a scrumptious little boy this week. I want to bury my nose in his little neck folds and breeeeeeathe for a while. Stop looking at me like that. Go tell her congratulations and pretend I don’t have a weird baby fetish.
My own children, well, they won’t do at all. They are big(ish) and no longer all that cute and they often SMELL and also they know how to irritate the living crap out of me. I’ve decided it’s time to institute some changes around here, for sanity’s sake.
read more…
You people ROCK
I just got back from a meeting to discover that I have officially crested the $3,000 mark.
In case you’re interested, I’m currently in second place overall for funds raised for the Boston event.
Thank you all so much; it means more to me than I can say that the response has been so amazing.
It sort of rhymes with Barcelona
Are we sick of talking about my breasts yet? It’s an epidemic, spreading like wildfire. My rack is the new bird flu. Seriously. My father called me on the phone this evening and we had an entire discussion about my boobs, including–as Dave Barry would say, I SWEAR I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP–his detailing for me a specialized kind of 3-D mammography machine that can perform tissue sampling without a doctor present.
Yes. A boob biopsy robot. Thanks, Dad! Guess who I’ll be calling tonight when I wake up screaming with nightmares about C-3PO coming at me with a hollow needle?
I would like one for the family room, I think, just to keep things festive around here. Unfortunately, they cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, so I will not be getting one. But I will be sure to tell the surgeon I’m seeing next week that MY DADDY SAID they should get me into one of those machines where you walk out 15 minutes later with a band-aid instead of getting knocked out and having day surgery.
read more…