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I know music hipsters are over Adele (if they even admitted to listening to her), but I’m a sucker for all versions of this song.
Every once in a while I mungle on to my blog and think about writing something. But with each passing year I’ve noticed my thoughts becoming truncated down from thoughtful post to clever Facebook status to clumsy tweet. Luckily I don’t have the patience for Twitter, or my brain would be reduced to a vacuum of white noise.
Part of the reason I haven’t blogged as much as I used to is that I don’t have the luxury of time like I did when I stayed home with the kids. When my days were mostly homebound with Jack, and my thoughts were mostly centered on new motherhood and the universe we lived in. It was a blissfully innocent time then, despite wading through the world of autism, and on my most mentally tired days now I sometimes find myself wistful for the simplicity I had then. Which, please don’t mistake for me saying I want to go back – I don’t.
Had there been any doubt in my choice to leave (and there wasn’t), it was brick and mortared this last year. And then soldered in adamantium and buried in the middle of the earth.
No, what I wish is that this wave would stop fucking moving, so that I could finally slow down and try to find that focus again; figure out what percentage of me can be devoted to what and whom, and then settle back down again. I miss the freedom I had then to feel passion about parenting. Or anything to be honest. I want to think about my family’s nutrition again. I’d like to maybe take a cooking class – I’m about a decade too old to cop-out on my inability to cook functionally. I want to read books and participate in my book club more than perfunctorily. I want to be able to invest time in being a doula again. Or find a writers group or volunteer program or anything that I know I once had the energy for, and would be something that makes me feel less like my days are spent just trying to focus on the next bright spot.
I know that part of the reason I don’t write more is that it’s harder to know where I stand with my audience. A good friend is going through a messy divorce, and I’m reminded again that everything involved in that – whether there’s drama tagged along or not – is like being turned inside out for all to see. (And evaluate and opine on.) A time when people will call you for coffee just so they can look you in the eye and tell you what a horrible person you are. AS IF the previous 10, 20, 30 years of being an acceptably good person suddenly carries no weight once you cross a line they draw in the sand. I still can’t get over the entitlement, and it’s been years since I separated. I had a blog for years before anyone gave much of a rats ass about my choices, and the self-centeredness that is inherent in blogging was fine then, because I obviously didn’t have as much to worry about. And aside from the ongoing legal shit
(because hey, let’s drag this out for another year! Let’s make attorney fees in the TWENTIES OF THOUSANDS, SHALL WE? Hooray!),
I don’t have anything to hide now. But I am tired and wary. And unsure if I even WANT to entertain anyone with my thoughts, if doing so leaves me open to the same criticism now that I apparently didn’t deserve then.
Except I need to, because when I do every once in a while mungle on the blog, I read old posts I had totally and utterly forgotten about. Things I simply would not have remembered had I not written it down out of SAHM boredom. So even though my life is infinitely busier and more stressful, I know I will regret it if I stop writing altogether just because it takes energy and time I may not have currently. If I were to create a timeline of my real life vs what you’re seeing on the blog, it’s ridiculous how much is missing. I think 11 posts in all of 2011 demonstrates that. Hell, I got married in July and am just now mentioning it. Why? Because I couldn’t decide whether to shit or get off the pot with this thing, as it limped along not being anything real.
Therefore I am officially, publicly committed to writing more. My family deserves it as an amazingly technological record-keeping tool, if nothing else. Plus my memory is beginning to suck, and though I may not have the luxury or innocence to while away my days like I once did, it doesn’t mean life isn’t going by just as quickly and without worthiness of preservation. So at least twice a week. To start. And that makes me excited, having an excuse to make myself do something that once brought catharsis if not happiness.
The gossip fodder is just an added benefit of course, but mostly it’s about the kids. Our family.
Welp, my ability to come up with post ideas has officially dried up methinks. The only interesting thing I can think to say is that I need to get a day planner, b/c I actually have a ‘schedule’ now. Things are falling into place at work, the kids are falling into place at our daycare lady, we’re hitting a groove with the bus and therapy and kindy, and… that’s it.
I can say that I am (secretly and guiltily) excited to come home every day to a relatively clean house. It’s amazing how even someone who would never call themselves a neat-freak feels peace at things not looking like a tornado ripped through. My time management has clicked into place, and I feel like I did in college when I was on the crew team and had to plan ahead for things like laundry and term papers and even showering to be honest (hence my feeling like I want a day planner – though not for showering, obviously). I’m one of those who need structure and deadlines to be the most efficient.
I enjoy my 10 minute drive listening to music – that is probably in my top-three favorite things to do – and the busy work I do at the office. It’s literally mindless paper and computer work, but it’s sweet relief because there is ZERO pressure for me. I can wear jeans and flip flops and a hat (and often do) and the ladies I work with are funny and easy to get along with – which is good considering we’re crowded into a room that should not have 4 desks, a copier, two printers and three file cabinets. I like it.
[There is however a micromanaging bosshole currently skulking around since we’re getting ready to move buildings, but he’ll lose interest again and go back to hoarding his dollar bills eventually. Have I mentioned my feelings for this guy yet? Huh. Remind me to tell you someday..]
Today was the very first day my heart broke, though. Lo was tired, so when I pulled into the driveway of our daycare lady’s house, she burst into tears. I cuddled with her when we got inside, and she was happy again in two minutes flat – waving over her shoulder to me as she ran off – but it was enough to tap into the guilt all parents (though truthfully mamas more, I honestly believe) feel when you’re leaving your child for someone else to care for. And I know that it’s only for like.. 5 hours a day. And that she loves the gal and the kids at the house, and she’s old enough and ready for a preschool-type environment. But I chose to stay home initially to avoid this very sadness. So, I bawled like a moron for a bit on the way to work, got it out of my system, and went about my day. And considering how well my kids have taken the transition like champs, I know that that’s getting off easy. Shrug.
Besides, she’s been there a little over a week and the other little girls there have all-but potty trained her. And our day care lady (I hate to minimize her by not giving her a name, so I think I’ll start calling her Day Care Goddess in lieu of that, for pronoun props.) is an awesome mother who serves organic food and doesn’t bat at an eye at my crunchy leanings or autistic child. She’s the bomb.
And.. that’s it. I’m reading a couple books, am almost finished with the show Extras (if you liked the British Office check it out) and am enjoying the changes going on for the most part. Here’s a beautiful Ani song called “Both Hands” I’ve apparently had in iTunes forever and never knew it. It’s my song d’jour.<3
Ciao and happy Monday!
..When you are leaving to walk to school to pick up your kid and he shows up on the bus, instead. 15 minutes earlier than you thought school even got out. <<scratches head>> So yeah, Jon’s at back-to-school night, and I’m hoping we can go ahead and pin down exactly when school gets out. Seems to be a minor detail we should probably get straight.
[ETA: Turns out they yanked him early to get on the bus with the pre-school kids who get out earlier than regular school. So take that, parenting insecurities. I wasn’t wrong after all.]
SO. I had a good weekend. Went out with a couple friends for a birthday night out, and spent a lazy Sunday relaxing. Thanks for the well-wishes here and elsewhere, this year was significantly better than last. Snort. And actually, it’s curious to me just how apathetic I was about it yesterday. It wasn’t the same.. eh.. validating need like it was then. Maybe that’s what old age does for you?
Next, the good news is I’ve started the job. Sort of. In spurts. I’m trying to ease the kids into going to daycare – which they love, HALLELUJAH – but after Jack’s meltdown when the bus showed up to take him to school today, here, at the house, I know I still need to take it slow. So, slow we’ll take it. But I tell you what, I wouldn’t be able to do any of this if I didn’t have flexible bosses and daycare providers and bus coordinators and speech therapists and occupational therapists and friends..
Right now this is my village helping me raise my child, and I am incomparably grateful. I want to acknowledge that.
And finally, random addition #1: A picture I just got of the float trip, taken with a cheap and foggy underwater camera. We called the (unknown and sort of.. green looking) kid posing in front ‘Minnow Man’, b/c he was hellbent to catch a minnow, and he had some serious ‘tude.
Random addition #2: While listening to Pandora, I was literally floored to discover I liked a song by a band I previously thought totally blew. The Get Up Kids are hometown KC darlings, and I’ve always hated their music (which strangely enough, diverged further with the side projects. I almost violently disliked Reggie and the Full Effect, but liked the New Amsterdams well enough). I thought they were overrated and monotonous. However, I have to humbly admit that I do like this song. It’s not mind blowing, but it’s definitely better than I thought they could do. It’s called “Is There A Way Out”, and in fairness to them as a mea culpa I figured I’d share it.
Happy Monday, everyone. Hope life is well.
I didn’t have much to say earlier, and I still don’t, but I figured I’d marry the Monday and Tuesday entries into a single Mueday one (or Tonday, I suppose. Whichever, the puns still fit.) since I feel neglectful and I know tomorrow will be busy.
So, had a fun, busy and game-filled weekend. Kickball on Friday, Olympics (GO PHELPS GO!) and poker game on Saturday and the Royals on Sunday. Thank God Jack was mungly and we had to leave early, because that game went into TWELVE innings. Crazy.
We found out that a friend of ours is Jack’s teacher for this year, which is great news. I really think she will be firm enough with him and honest enough with me to continue our success. Also, the transition should be easier since he knows her. But, whenever we’ve talked about it, he’s proclaimed that he will definitely go to Kindergarten, but not school. So we’ll see what that really means on Friday. Send some relaxed vibes this direction, por favor, because I just have a feeling it’s either going to be awesome or simply horrible. There’s rarely an in between with Jack. Sigh.
Let’s see.. I’m sort of bummed about Bernie Mac, but the Isaac Hayes news means virtually nothing to me. And that actually kind of makes me feel guilty, since really, I knew neither, so whatever feelings I have seem arbitrary anyway. Odd how that works, eh? I mean, I don’t know Matt Damon either, but it’s a safe bet I’d be more than ‘sort of bummed’ if he died.
Good thing he’s invincible.
So here’s the latest Teen Girl Squad entry on Homestarrunner. Be aware if you’ve never gone there that the humor is.. particular. We giggle like idiots, but that’s because we’ve watched enough to anticipate the characters.
Oh, I know! My birthday is in SIX DAYS. I will be thirty…. one. Not very exciting. But regardless, mark your calendars for August 17th. I was born a day after Elvis died and my mom said that the gal in the hospital room with her was distraught, and named her kid Elvis. Poor guy. I think of him every year.
Finally, the YTT(M) installment is a DJ called Girl Talk. He has mashed some of the coolest songs* evar, and I picked the section that seemed the most accessible here. I totally love it, but I think it’s probably not up everyone’s alley. At any rate, if you do dig it, go here and download it for free ala Radiohead. Good times.
*If you go to Youtube you can see the lists of songs used in each section.
Things I could tell you about for this stupid NaBloPoMo:
I finally got my head out of the sand and have started some therapy. Things are currently both more clear and much more difficult for me. I’m really not liking that she’s pulling out some old things I’d like to stay buried, but I think it probably is necessary. It takes courage to do this stuff, and I’m not always sure I’ve got enough in supply.
I can admit to you how much I want to eviscerate this man; how primal the feeling is. But I acknowledge that if mental health really is in question, it can’t wholly be black and white, no matter how disloyal that seems to that innocent girl.
I can tell you how much that song I posted a few days ago actually makes my heart hurt, even though I don’t connote it with any particular situation – it’s just that beautiful of a song to me. And again, I don’t understand people who don’t like music. It’s completely antithetical to me.
I can talk about how my next birthing mama called me yesterday with what ended up being false contractions, and I couldn’t go with her to check it out, and I felt like a horrible doula. It’s been a long time since I’ve attended a birth, and I’m so ready for this one. Birth is miraculous, and everything comes down to simply that.
I can remind you that today Jack starts riding the bus home, and even though it’s only a block and he’s been in ‘school’ for two years now, the thought makes me cry. He is my baby. My almost-Kindergarten-aged sweet boy, and he’s riding a school bus. It’s inexorably linked to growing up in my mind.
I could attempt to describe the stupidly-delicious burgers we had last night when Brandon came to watch some more Wire, but words fail me. Best burger ever, I promise. Really. I told him I was going to steal the recipe and add it to my three-dish repertoire.
Likewise, this song played on rotation during dinner, and has been in my head since.
Polyphonic Spree’s “Light & Day/Reach for the Sun”
So that about sums up what’s on my brain today.
Have a good day everyone. 😉
Because I’m so (sortofnotreally) self-deprecatingly open about not knowing how to cook, I’ve been asked many times how my family eats. The answer is piecemeal, really. Lots of raw fruits and veggies. Nuts, cottage cheese, beans. Things I can handle. But when it comes to actual dinners or meat H.Pimp does it, because he has a flexible-enough job that he’s usually home early, and he does enjoy cooking. He’s good at it. For the most part it works – and really, if it weren’t for gender stereotypes, it wouldn’t be as big of a deal.
It’s just a fact that I’ve never really liked cooking or baking. But the older I get (and the more research I do regarding Jack) the more I’m realizing a factor could be just how my brain works. I’ve tried to explain before that when I’m trying to do math problems, my brain.. slows down, like your computer when the tower starts whirring and your page loads slowly. I can actually tell that I’m unable to process the information. And I’m talking about the things that are usually logical in-your-head kind of things. The things that you realize after graduation really are applicable to everyday life. It’s those multi-variable equations that my brain can’t do.
So last night we had my parents and a family friend over for dinner. And despite feeling relaxed, I still managed to become overwhelmed with figuring everything out. All the things I needed to attend to (various stages of food preparation, kids, drinks, socializing) sort of canceled each other out in prioritization, and I ended up not doing any of it well. And sometimes I feel like a stupid deer in the headlight, unable to snap out of it enough to just tackle one thing at a time. Too much input. I mean, I made cookies the other day and somehow messed up the butter. Or I wasn’t paying attention and put the double amount of flour in. I dunno, but I have a whole bag of very sweet pieces of concrete. And that doesn’t happen to people past 5th grade. Most people can do that by their 30s.
I’m sure some of this is just my impatient nature with small details like, oh, measurement specifications. And also the fact that I’m just not an intuitive cook, which doesn’t bother me in the least. But I promise there’s more going on beyond my control, because there are times when I really do want to try and cook a wonderful meal, and I still can’t do it. There are some serious synapse mis-firings in the part of my brain that assimilates information and prioritizes. I notice it every once in a while if I’m driving in an unfamiliar area and I need to make quick decisions before I feel like I’ve figured everything out. But for some reason it’s the kitchen that this is most prevalent, oddly. And I’m sure practicing that will help, and I bet I can find exercises to strengthen that part of my thinking, but boy do I feel for those who are destined to eat at my house.
(Sammy, you and Matt and Cyndi are lucky you had to eat the same meal every week for 4 months. It’s one of the few I can do. 😉 )
Standards are very low in Denver apparently, because this saccharine crap won me an award in the county arts contest. And there’s no real point to this post other than I saw this picture and was thinking about my childhood. So enjoy the poem and 80s fashion shot of me getting my ski on.
As I watch the sun disappear behind the mountains
I think how beautiful it looks
With radiant colors, gleaming in the light
Red, Orange, Yellow, setting before my eyes
Now that it’s dark, I have to go in
Maybe another time, I’ll see one again
(Whooee we are only a week into this! Tired of it yet? Because you know my cleverness knows no bounds, right?)
1. Favorite movies
2. Favorite songs
3. All the names starting with J that we could have named Lorelei if we hadn’t luckily realized with Jacoby we were starting a matchy-matchy name theme.
4. People from my past I’d like to catch-up on now.
5. Theories why when you cross over State line from KS to MO the drivers somehow get dumber, if that’s possible.
6. Why the following people must be in on the joke, because there is just no way in hell they could be taken seriously by anyone, ever, they are so ridiculous: Britney Spears, Mariah Carey, Ann Coulter, Andrew W.K., Keanu Reeves, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Michael Moore, Tucker Carlson – just to name a few.
7. Why I love Matt Damon.
8. Words I can never remember how to spell correctly.
9. Words I just can’t remember the definition of.
10. Truths and misconceptions of autism as I know it.
11. Why simple math eludes me completely.
12. Why giving 26 vaccines in the first 6 months of life may not be a good idea.
13. Foods I love.
14. Theories on what’s genetically missing from me that I love to eat and hate the kitchen.
15. Books I love.
16. Best fictional characters of all time in the media.
17. Songs I like to karaoke, or at least watch be sung by drunk people.
18. Ways I wish I would be a better person.
19. Reasons I think I should give myself a break.
20. People I admire, and why.
Because y’know, I have a lot, and can actually narrow them down to just five.
5. At my uncle’s wedding when I was 12, I had on a cute little dress with flowers. And if I pushed my (totally at the time non-cushioned) stomach out, I could slide the belt(!) until it basically came undone. I thought that was a clever trick and did it many times. More important to this memory though is when I came out of the bathroom at the reception, pranced by the 5th cousin-once removed I thought was so hot, and was only then told the back of my dress was tucked up into my pantyhose. Awesome.
4. In 6th grade I was waiting outside school one morning, lined up with my class and waiting to go in, when a karmically-large snot bubble billowed out of and back into my nose. And if that weren’t bad enough (in preadolescent life), the only person who saw it was Kristi, one of earth’s most obnoxious creatures. She instantly squealed and tolled the bells to alert everyone of the now-hidden offense. Despite my attempt to deny it, that wench spent all day telling everyone about it. Man, she was reason enough to move from Colorado.
3. Once in high school, during an incredibly crowded passing period, I tripped off the top step of the stairs and fell into the person in front of me. That person promptly fell into the next person, and sure enough – I created a veritable angry avalanche all the way down the staircase. Truly, it was bad. Luckily I had the wherewithal to spin around and glare at the person behind me to exonerate myself (hey, we all know the rules to survive), but I was still shaken.
2. In college I had my futon set up as a couch once when Jon came over, and he was sitting on it while I farted around the room cleaning up or something. I was playing music and some old love song came on that was cutesy, so I started absently lip-synching it to him. I leaned in to kiss him and, well, my knee slipped. I bet you can figure the rest out. The bad news is that we’d been dating maybe a month, and I’m pretty sure that was his official announcement of my presidency of Dorkdom. The good news is obviously it didn’t leave any permanent damage. Sorry, HP.
1. The hands-down most embarrassing moment of my first 30 years was in high school during a crowded study hall. The cafeteria was split by one of the accordion walls, and my chair backed up to it. Study halls are obviously historically quiet, and cafeteria floors are historically linoleum. So I really wish I had thought about logistics as I doodled on my paper while simultaneously tipping my chair forward a little bit. I mean, is anyone surprised that it slipped out from under me, crashed into the wall behind me and then clattered to the floor? No. But I was. And despite the fact that I tried to hide under the table for a minute or so in the hopes that short-attention spans would lose half my audience, I was actually gawked – nay, rubber-necked – at when I picked up the chair and sat back down. This is even more embarrassing because I had just moved to Kansas and knew very few people. I had been friends with the guy who shared the table with me, but coincidentally he stopped talking to me after that. And if you think this is me being dramatic, let me add as an addendum that years later I actually dated one of the guys who was in that study hall. A fact I didn’t know until one night when HE TOLD THE STORY TO EVERYONE with no realization that it was, in fact, my dumbass he was talking about.
Hey, everyone wants to be memorable somehow, eh? I just found my niche early.
I may try and get my bum in gear to be more creative here. I’ve always missed the NaBloPoMo dates, and this next month’s theme is LISTS! I heart lists. So, I’ma try to attempt it.
Surely you’re not as excited as I, but you’ll still come check, won’t you?
Until then, (which is when, tomorrow? Hmm) I hope everyone has a great weekend. And thanks, AGAIN, to Jen-Nay for the idea spark. You all know we have the same name and college major, right? Surely there’s a reason we bounce off each other. 😉
(Idea stolen directly from Jen-nay. Gracias.)
OK, the assignment is to give yourself practical advice from a time in your life you might have been lost. This was interesting to me, because there are a couple time periods I could think of to reference. Ha. But high school was probably one of the times that most shaped how I began to think of myself. Soherego:
1. Don’t become friends with Sarah Bradshaw. You had fun with her, sure, but she was not a healthy person, and was a really bad influence. You’re lucky you graduated, you skipped so often. If nothing else, your non-existent study habits kicked your ass in college, where the literal and figurative cost was so much higher. Plus she totally went over the edge in the dorm and stole all your Hormel chili before you moved out.
2. Turn in the guy who owned the Baskin Robbins to OSHA and CPS. He had no first-aid kit and had you working until 11:30 on school nights when you were 15. That’s illegal and he was an ass.
3. Don’t let Jaime Grace get to you. She’s mean and not worth it.
4. Make a commitment to choir. Don’t skip that concert as a Sophomore so you can go with your dad to a band practice and meet a cute boy. You could have been in Chambers if Solley could have trusted you. Don’t be stupid, you love choir.
5a. Try and get a scholarship. They have scholarships for everything, if you’ll just look, you idiot.
5b. Study and try harder on your ACTs and SATs. Don’t fall asleep in your SATs, because even in the reading section, it doesn’t bode well.
6. Do Not date Andy again. The first go-round should have given plenty of warning of character. You will lose years to this guy, and the fallout will set a pattern you fight forever.
7. Get involved with drama earlier than Senior year’s Jesus Christ Superstar, it would have given you confidence. You obviously have an inner actress you’d like to tap into (snort), since you asked the student director if you should act unsure when the crowd is calling for blood. You were follower number 12. Your job was to fill the stage. She barely contained her laughter.
8. Find a way to hang out with Faye Biggerstaff more. She was one of the few genuinely kind people in a sea of sharks, and I think she would have kept you grounded a bit.
9. Hang out with Nammere more while you have the chance. Don’t misplace the story you wrote about her life, there is nothing more fascinating than living history, and you will always regret it deeply.
10. Talk more to Kate.. whatever-her-name-was. She knew she was different than everyone, and suffered as an outcast of sorts. But it takes courage to be that way – specifically in high school – and she was very interesting. Decide to remember her last name. She deserves it.
11. Don’t go to Homecoming with Matt Ross. It will be a freaking nightmare. Dinner, the dress, his stomping on your two-hour-old broken toe, his crying over his ex. NIGHT. MARE.
12. Give yourself permission to acknowledge this is just a shitty time of your life for reasons beyond your control. You’ll get through it and will be more sure of yourself.. later.
For the first time since high school the weight on my driver’s license is not a lie.
I’ve been tagged again. 8 things you don’t know. Seriously, in about 6 months you’ll probably know my SSN – I’ll have nothing else new for you.
1. Apparently my love for M.Damon has been around longer than I thought. Yesterday when looking up my credit report, my secret question was favorite movie. Usually I pick the obvious question like maiden name or school mascot – if nothing else so H. Pimp could answer also. But that was my question and I blanched, trying to think of what I would have chosen back whenever. Goonies? Karate Kid? Some Kind of Wonderful? But when I asked myself honestly, the answer was Goodwill Hunting. And tadow! That was the answer.
2. [Warning: Parenting TMI. Stop if you’ll get grossed out. ] Yesterday I put some baby oil on Lo’s head and let it sit for a while, then while she calmly watched some Sesame Street I combed out most of the cradle cap she still had left. It was both repulsive and compulsive.
3. I really don’t like Christmas music a whole lot. Maybe because it’s the same songs again and again, but I usually want to stab myself in the ear by December 31st. The two exceptions, without fail and in perpetuity, are Carol of the Bells and O Holy Night. I get chills every single damn time I hear those songs – if they’re actually people. No muzak, thank you.
4. My mom unknowingly bought Lo an outfit from Jay Z’s Rocawear children’s line, and as truly adorable as it its, I simply cannot stop laughing when she wears it. I’ve been trying to teach her to brush her shoulder off, to no avail.
5. We’re pretty close to selling our dust-catching elliptical in the basement, and the thought of someone bringing me cash to take clutter out of my house is filling me with a profound excitement. I’ve noticed the last two days that I’ve subconsciously been scrutinizing items all over the house. No wonder people get addicted to this process. Watch out, dog. (I kid! I kid!)
6. We’re still debating whether or not to put up a Christmas tree. Truth is, we don’t really have room for it anywhere, I’m not looking forward to a climbing toddler or asshatcat, and it just doesn’t do much for me. Jack’s never known or cared, so it’s been a few years since we’ve done it. But apparently we are horrible parents. I’m shocked at the number of people who have openly told me it’s not cool to Jack. My MIL told me that Jack told her “our Christmas tree is outside.” She acted hurt, like maybe we were so cruel as to put it in the landscaping, laughing maniacally and dancing around it while Jack looked out and cried with his hands on the windows. Gimme a break. I don’t know what in the hell he was talking about. He could have been scripting from Charlie Brown Christmas for all I know. He hasn’t said anything to us. And it’s not like we’ll never do one again (though really, it’s a stupid pagan ritual anyway and I could forgo most of the consumerism of this holiday and still give the kids tradition, but I digress). Sigh. We’ll see.
7. One time a few years ago one of Jack’s lashes fell out and when I taped it and measured it, it was an inch long. Fo’ real. The kid’s got creepy long lashes. Well, somehow – despite the fact that I for once was truly not trying to exaggerate – when it came up I told people it was two inches long. I can’t think of the number of people I swore it was two inches long to, before finally realizing this past Thanksgiving how patently absurd that is. It just never occurred to me that the number I had been throwing out was impossible. And now I wish I could remember how many people I’ve told that to so I could send out an addendum with the real number – which is plenty impressive without the need for exaggeration. Man, I can be such a moron. For the record my name really is Jennifer.
8. When Jack stands up to pee in the toilet he leans forward but throws his arms straight back like a ski jumper. Give him some goggles and he’d be good to go. Funny little dude.
So there ya go. Not all about me, but new info nonetheless. I tag Tuck, Tracy, Lauren, Jamie McJ, H.Pimp, Jen-nay, Casey and Mads.
So surely you’ve seen the meme game where you list obscure things about yourself. I totally dug them when they were running around myspace, b/c how fun is it to talk about yourself, er, well, you know. However, I’m seriously running out of things to say, especially since I talk so much there’s nothing you guys don’t probably know about me. But I like Alissa, so I’ll do it. I *refuse* to create a meme tag, though.
1. I have no waist (or hips), and pants are forever falling off me. Most of my clothing will slide right down my bum if I run long enough. I am literally a box.
2. To steal Alissa’s thought: I too love eating out of all kinds. I associate it not only with the luxury of frivolous money, but also a release from my dreaded kitchen. I’m a snob about organic food until you offer me some Taco Johns. YUM.
3. Sometimes I entertain the thought of moving away with my family so I can start over. Like I could shake off the old me and start new. I think it’s a valid idea for some people, but for me it would just be running, and that’s not going to solve anything, so luckily I’m (somewhat) wise enough to realize that.
4. You know the blackness behind your eyelids when you close them? When I can’t sleep at night I take the covers off for a bit to get chilly, then re-cover myself and try and visualize going down a slide tunnel (think tube slides on the playground) or a galaxy wormhole with that blackness. If I concentrate long enough to actually visualize sliding down the tunnel, I will be out immediately.
5. I have such a stupid sweet tooth I will eat things I don’t really like just because it has something sugary on it. Like cheesecake. It actually skeeves me out, but put some chocolate and toffee bits on it? By all means gimme some! Blech.
6. I love the smell of tequila. I’m at least grown up enough that I can’t just drink it (alone) for fun, but I still love the smell. I know most of you are retching, and I agree. I’m like that will all other alcohols. But something about tequila, I dunno.
7. I talk a big tomboy talk, but really I’m a kinda-poser. My friend Cyndi is a fo’real football fan, but I learn just enough to sound smart (I have to. My husband was a sports writer. Our first fight was why I didn’t understand the difference b/w a baseball hit and run. Jerk.). But we’ve been watching HBO’s Hard Knocks about the Chiefs*, and I’m actually really stoked about this season. I tell you, add some music to make it montage-y, have Paul Rudd narrate and I’ll love anything. Yum.
8. I have an old, curmudgeonly cat named Lucky. He’s so obnoxious (….how obnoxious is he?!) that in college we had a sun-tea pitcher on the TV by the front door and it was labeled the ‘Lucky De-Claw and Neuter Trust Fund’. I raised like, $80 with that thing, seriously. But now that we have the little guy, I have taken serious karma-pleasure in seeing Lucky get SCHOOLED by Oscar. It’s great. He’s not getting hurt or anything, but it’s still great to see him get attacked as he walks around a corner. What goes around comes around, buddy.
And yeah, I know that last one isn’t about me at all, but really, I stretched to do this list anyway. As far as who to tag? Uh.. I don’t know, lots of you don’t have blogs. Maybe Mads or Casey. Lauren, Lawson, Misty or Tracy. Sugar! I tag Sara.
Get listin’ everyone. Ciao.
*But I know enough to trash talk, and I’m not kidding Laws you better hope your boy Brodie Croyle is worth his rep or I’m going to give you crap the entire season. I mean it.