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Showing posts from May, 2010

Tattoo You

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So, you may be wondering about the tattoo poll I posted on the blog. Or maybe not. You've never been the curious type, I know.

For years I have toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo. My brain just cannot let go of the thought, even though it always (ultimately) boycotts the notion whenever it bubbles to the top. The idea continues to intrigue me, this thought of making permanent on my skin what lives in my heart.

So, what keeps me from taking the plunge? This may be the oddest excuse out there, but here goes. As you may recall, I have vitiligo and went through total depigmentation when I was 14 (hence the name of my blog). If there is any benefit to being super fair (and also limiting my sun exposure), it's that my skin is completely unmarred. I don't have freckles or moles or anything like that - anywhere. For some reason, when I look at myself in the mirror, I have a hard time imagining myself with a decoration.
The other reason is that I worry about what the future me …

The queen of one-liners

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We had a fabulous weekend. Because we don't believe in happy mediums (media?) around here, the weather went straight from 42 degrees last week to 90 degrees this weekend. Go directly to inferno, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

We did squeeze in a lot of outdoorsy stuff over the weekend, though. On Saturday, we attended an eight-year-old's birthday party in the afternoon. The party was for the daughter of a family friend and was held at our local amusement park. We'd made arrangements for them to take A home with them, as their older daughter had agreed to babysit that evening. P and I were celebrating our 13th wedding anniversary with a cocktail cruise. It was a two-hour tour down the river and back again. Two couples from church came and it was a lot of fun. There were four bachelorette parties on the boat, but they weren't as obnoxious as such parties often are. One of the brides came around with a bouquet of blow pops and I bought one for a buck. I have no idea …

What not to say

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One of the highlights of my weekly routine is listening to the "This American Life" podcast in my car on the way to/from work. I love a good story (even more so when it is true), and I've always enjoyed the way "This American Life" weaves together different tales with a central theme. Ira Glass is the host and he does a great job of narrating the stories and interviewing the storytellers. The fact that I love an NPR program this much . . . it means I'm getting old, right? The other day I was watching a particularly amusing episode of Spongebob Squarepants. It was the one where Patrick is telling Spongebob how to become a mature adult. At one point Patrick says, "And now you have to develop an appreciation for free-form jazz!" I laughed out loud because I have long said that once I start listening to jazz, it's all over.
But, back to NPR. I hooked up my iPod in my car on Tuesday and started to listen to the most recent podcast. The theme was &qu…

You've got what in your what?

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You remember the Peanuts comic strip, right? That not-funny-at-all but somehow endearing piece of Americana? And you remember how Lucy used to hold the football for Charlie Brown and then yank it away at the last second, causing Charlie Brown to fly ass over teakettle across the next few frames? A similar scene played itself out in our backyard yesterday.
After weeks of crappy weather, the universe finally rewarded us with a spate of warm, sunny days. My daughter likes to play soccer in the back yard with the dogs. Our back yard is fenced, but not terribly large. I pick up the poop as frequently as I can, but with three largish dogs running around back there, there will always be a pile somewhere. And A will always step in it. We've asked her to watch out for the dog doo, but her feet are drawn to the turds like moths to the flame. We've even tried a little reverse psychology on her: "Hey, be sure to step in some poop while you're out there!" She scowls and says …

I tried to like him, really I did

I have a profound dislike for my OB/GYN. In his defense, there probably is not an OB/GYN on the planet who could win me over. When you miscarry four times, you learn to hate the stirrups even more than the women who don't have fertility issues. When I first moved to town, I chose an OB/GYN from a list provided by my insurance. At first, I didn't mind Dr. S. But then, I got pregnant and things went downhill from there. I told him that something was wrong, because I had been bleeding. I asked for an ultrasound. He told me that I was worrying needlessly. He said "You're a first time mom! You're supposed to worry!" Then he went on to tell me that ultrasounds weren't shown to have any effect on the success or failure of a pregnancy. He refused to send me next door to the hospital for the ultrasound. A couple weeks later, I began to bleed heavily on a Saturday and went to the clinic. Dr. S wasn't in that day, but Dr. B broke the news to me that I h…

This one is all over the place

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Me and my brown son

I'm having a relatively quiet week and, as such, don't have a lot to blather on about. I am speaking at church on Sunday, so I'm trying to get my act together for that. My friend Beth and I are speaking on the topic of "Building a Family: DNA Not Required." We are actually running the whole service; we chose the readings and the hymns and all that jazz. I'm reading the "Story for All Ages." Well, if the book I ordered arrives in time. It's called "The Red Thread: An Adoption Fairytale."
I've never told A's birth story out loud before, so it will be interesting. My friend Beth adopted a sibling group of three from Poland (all at once). I have a lot of admiration for her, because it was all I could do to handle one child! I mean, mine didn't speak English either but that's because she was a squalling newborn. However, I have been truly amazed at how quickly Beth's children have learned the l…

Summer Goals

When I lost my job at the end of 2009, I also lost all of my vacation time (I was up to 5 1/2 weeks of vacation after 13 1/2 years on the job). I'm exceedingly fortunate to have a new job but am still mourning the death of my vacation accrual. ("Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . .") So, needless to say, I won't be taking any elaborate vacations this summer. But, I do plan to rock the hell out of every weekend. I have just about every weekend planned from now until Labor Day, because you know I like to schedule fun and not leave anything to chance or spontaneity.

Aside from hitting every festival I can find, I also have a few goals for the summer:

1. See a live concert if it kills me. I am always scanning the concert calendars and listings, but when a show comes along that I want to see, it's either two hours away on a Thursday night (and you know I'm way too much of a pussy to stay out all night on a workday) or the ticket pr…

Little Miss Modesty

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My daughter had her five-year exam on Tuesday. She wasn't thrilled to go, so I plied her with a snack beforehand. Needless to say, I didn't tell her that she was likely to receive some immunizations at this visit. In additional to a reluctant child, I also brought along a form from the school district that needed to be signed by the pediatrician in order to enroll A in Kindergarten.
As is the custom, she was weighed and measured before the exam. I can't remember her weight offhand (38 pounds, maybe?) but her height was 40.25 inches. She grew exactly three inches since last year's annual exam. While this still puts her in the 10th percentile, her doctor says she's fine as long as she is, in fact, growing. I did a little calculation this morning. Let's say she will grow three inches per year for the next eight years (assuming she will stop growing when she hits puberty). That would put her adult height at around 5 feet 4 inches. I have maintained all along that ev…

So, have you seen this thingamajig?

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We took the kid to a hotel with a water park inside to celebrate her birthday last weekend. It was a "kid suite," which included a separate area with a set of bunk beds, a desk, and a television mounted on the wall (so that it could be viewed from the top bunk). A was thrilled. The only drawback was that the remote control for our TV also worked for her TV. You can imagine the hilarity that ensued with that. "Mama, turn it back! I have to watch Nick-you-low-dee-on!"

Another feature of this hotel: an energy card. Have you seen these? Basically, the key card that gets you in the door also turns on your electricity. You put your card in a slot just inside the front door (after you enter the room), which then enables the electricity. The goal is to keep you from being a douche and leaving on every possible light and appliance in your room when you depart. In theory, you have to take your key card with you (otherwise, you can't get back in) and in doing so, …

Well, it's an honor just to be nominated

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Many thanks to The Radioactive Vegan for bestowing upon me a Sunshine Award. I tend to be pretty cynical, and this is the first time someone has accused me of casting sunshine about. Next thing you know, I'll be pulling kittens out of sewers and helping old ladies across the street. Wait, I am an old lady. Okay, never mind.

Is that you, baby girl?

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Happy fifth birthday to my beautiful, curly-haired, feisty, bossy, smart, funny girl. I could swear I just brought you home from the hospital, but here you are. Five. Sometimes, even now, I watch you sleep. I listen to your measured breathing and brush a rogue curl from your forehead. I whisper into your sleeping ear; I tell you that I will always love you and that you are my dream come true. I don't know how I got so lucky as to be your mom, but even if I perished tomorrow, I am so glad that I will have known that joy. However, I hope I don't perish tomorrow, because I have seen how your father dresses you when I am not around.

What I want to remember about you at this age:
You still botch just about every joke you try to tell. You tell the first half of one knock-knock joke and then end it with the punchline from a different knock-knock joke. Of course, we laugh anyway.You have started to think outside yourself a bit, and often consider what might make other people happy. The …