190/364 - JG
You had picked out one of each color because you didn't know which kind she wanted. This kind of thoughtfulness is just who you are, just what you are, and I am so sorry you and your wife are going through all of this awfulness.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Random Book Review
I have a recurring nightmare about the time my mom and dad were arguing and just as my dad was going to shove my mom, I stepped in between the two of them in a stupid attempt to get them to stop yelling. At this point, I accidentally got hit, I fell behind this ugly, beaten up couch, and my parents finished yelling at each other before my mom eventually came around the couch to see how I was doing. My sister, meanwhile, had hidden herself under her bed, as close to invisible as she could make herself.
I just finished reading dreamland, a young adult novel by Sarah Dessen, one the many books given to me by my bestest friend to take home with me after my visit with her. For the most part, it's kind of a meh book about dating violence. But there is a powerful scene in which the main character goes to a place that has become her sanctuary and finds that her sanctuary has been essentially destroyed. She takes a small keepsake from the sanctuary to help her remember what it once was like.
And as I read that scene, I remembered that couch. It was brown. The material was a teeny tiny plaid and the up and down stripes were raised, making it rough against your skin. The mattress that unfolded from it always had sheets on it. The cushion on the right side was not as stuffed as the others and you could always feel the springs poking at you, although when you looked down, you could never actually see a spring.
Behind that couch, I'd rub my cheek up and down that coarse material as I hid. I hid there regularly whenever things were too much for me. Id' But that day, the day I was accidentally thrown behind the couch, it stopped being my sanctuary. But I still have that memory of my cave behind the couch, rubbing my face raw, reading a book, feeling safe, feeling like no one could touch me back there.
Isn't it crazy how words, intended for a completely different purpose, can send your mind into a tailspin of memories you can't stop?
It's not the best book in the world, but I hope it gives comfort, in some small way to any adolescent going through a rough patch.
I just finished reading dreamland, a young adult novel by Sarah Dessen, one the many books given to me by my bestest friend to take home with me after my visit with her. For the most part, it's kind of a meh book about dating violence. But there is a powerful scene in which the main character goes to a place that has become her sanctuary and finds that her sanctuary has been essentially destroyed. She takes a small keepsake from the sanctuary to help her remember what it once was like.
And as I read that scene, I remembered that couch. It was brown. The material was a teeny tiny plaid and the up and down stripes were raised, making it rough against your skin. The mattress that unfolded from it always had sheets on it. The cushion on the right side was not as stuffed as the others and you could always feel the springs poking at you, although when you looked down, you could never actually see a spring.
Behind that couch, I'd rub my cheek up and down that coarse material as I hid. I hid there regularly whenever things were too much for me. Id' But that day, the day I was accidentally thrown behind the couch, it stopped being my sanctuary. But I still have that memory of my cave behind the couch, rubbing my face raw, reading a book, feeling safe, feeling like no one could touch me back there.
Isn't it crazy how words, intended for a completely different purpose, can send your mind into a tailspin of memories you can't stop?
It's not the best book in the world, but I hope it gives comfort, in some small way to any adolescent going through a rough patch.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
45 x 365 #189
189/365 - KG
A brave woman. A tumor in your brain sapped your strength, stole your hair, and hurt your soul. A recent recurrence of this aggressive cancer has left you unsure if you'll live to your thirtieth birthday. But you still always ask how we are doing.
A brave woman. A tumor in your brain sapped your strength, stole your hair, and hurt your soul. A recent recurrence of this aggressive cancer has left you unsure if you'll live to your thirtieth birthday. But you still always ask how we are doing.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Things I Learned On My Trip
1) Barns that are not red are an abomination. They should be outlawed.
2) The grocery store in Smalltown, Ohio has no polenta, flat leaf parsley, or any other items that start with the letter p.
3) When an almost two year old screams "you guys are mean" when getting buckled into his car seat, you will convulse with laughter.
3.5) The fact that you laughed at the poor child ensures that you are indeed mean.
4) This is not a fun way to wake up at 6:30 in the morning: "Mess," screamed by an almost 2 year old cringing in his crib in a failed attempt to avoid his own vomit.
5) Cloying means causing or tending to cause disgust or aversion through excess, not whatever weirdness my bestest friend thought it meant.
6) Big bottles of water are cheaper than small bottles of water at the gas station in Oberlin, Ohio.
6.5) These big bottles of water do not fit in the cupholders of a Dodge Neon.
6.75) You may be somewhat terrified that you will run into your ex-boyfriend who now teaches at Oberlin. You may scuttle about to avoid being in Oberlin longer than 2.2 milliseconds.
7) Sometimes ravioli is a code word for a delicious Mexican dish that will make you poop out your intestines for the next two days.
8) You can never talk about poop frequently enough. Or, frankly, go poop enough.
9) Teaching an almost 2 year old to say Go Falcons results in some interesting locutions. (Go Fuckins!!)
10) Young adult books about the supernatural are an acceptable genre for 30 year old women to be obsessed over.
11) United Airlines not only breaks guitars, but also fucks with my perfectly thought out travel plans. I have a difficult time being flexible, it turns out.
12) Best to wear appropriate footwear when your layover is in O'Hare. You're gonna have to run and then you'll miss your connection anyway. No matter how long you leave for that layover.
13) Little kid germs are evil.
14) BGSU rocks. And is beautiful.
15) There's nothing more frustrating than getting a voice mail on your cell phone detailing the itinerary changes to your delayed flight only two hours after you have already arrived at your destination four hours late.
2) The grocery store in Smalltown, Ohio has no polenta, flat leaf parsley, or any other items that start with the letter p.
3) When an almost two year old screams "you guys are mean" when getting buckled into his car seat, you will convulse with laughter.
3.5) The fact that you laughed at the poor child ensures that you are indeed mean.
4) This is not a fun way to wake up at 6:30 in the morning: "Mess," screamed by an almost 2 year old cringing in his crib in a failed attempt to avoid his own vomit.
5) Cloying means causing or tending to cause disgust or aversion through excess, not whatever weirdness my bestest friend thought it meant.
6) Big bottles of water are cheaper than small bottles of water at the gas station in Oberlin, Ohio.
6.5) These big bottles of water do not fit in the cupholders of a Dodge Neon.
6.75) You may be somewhat terrified that you will run into your ex-boyfriend who now teaches at Oberlin. You may scuttle about to avoid being in Oberlin longer than 2.2 milliseconds.
7) Sometimes ravioli is a code word for a delicious Mexican dish that will make you poop out your intestines for the next two days.
8) You can never talk about poop frequently enough. Or, frankly, go poop enough.
9) Teaching an almost 2 year old to say Go Falcons results in some interesting locutions. (Go Fuckins!!)
10) Young adult books about the supernatural are an acceptable genre for 30 year old women to be obsessed over.
11) United Airlines not only breaks guitars, but also fucks with my perfectly thought out travel plans. I have a difficult time being flexible, it turns out.
12) Best to wear appropriate footwear when your layover is in O'Hare. You're gonna have to run and then you'll miss your connection anyway. No matter how long you leave for that layover.
13) Little kid germs are evil.
14) BGSU rocks. And is beautiful.
15) There's nothing more frustrating than getting a voice mail on your cell phone detailing the itinerary changes to your delayed flight only two hours after you have already arrived at your destination four hours late.
45 x 365 #188
188/365 - JL
The toddlers crave your attention. You love them, you teach them, you play with them. You go home to your boyfriend, a man never to be your fiance, dreaming of a day when you have one of your own to cuddle and teach silly songs.
The toddlers crave your attention. You love them, you teach them, you play with them. You go home to your boyfriend, a man never to be your fiance, dreaming of a day when you have one of your own to cuddle and teach silly songs.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
45 x 365 #187
187/365 - MI
Dark circles under your deep eyes, hair always in wild disarray, and a tendency towards hyperbole in describing your state of stress. I find your control freak tendencies incredibly endearing. Minutes after being in your presence, you make me see how silly we both are.
Dark circles under your deep eyes, hair always in wild disarray, and a tendency towards hyperbole in describing your state of stress. I find your control freak tendencies incredibly endearing. Minutes after being in your presence, you make me see how silly we both are.
Monday, July 20, 2009
45 x 365 #186
186/365 - JI
A child adopted by two people who were so obviously not meant to be parents. You bring your childhood scars to parenthood by so obviously doing the exact opposite of anything you remember your parents doing with your or recommending you do with your daughter.
A child adopted by two people who were so obviously not meant to be parents. You bring your childhood scars to parenthood by so obviously doing the exact opposite of anything you remember your parents doing with your or recommending you do with your daughter.
Friday, July 17, 2009
45 x 365 #185
185/365 - TE
Only a few years younger than me, but it seems like significantly more. Immaturity is the mantle you use to hide behind. A rocky relationship built on mismatched goals. Married too young to a woman I once adored (now a shadow of her former self).
Only a few years younger than me, but it seems like significantly more. Immaturity is the mantle you use to hide behind. A rocky relationship built on mismatched goals. Married too young to a woman I once adored (now a shadow of her former self).
Thursday, July 16, 2009
45 x 365 #184
184/365 - JN
Everything you do is one step better than the way I do it. Smarter, more athletic, better job. I love you because you don't seem to notice it. Not many can be both self-confident and self-deprecating, but that's you. Doing it better than anybody else.
Everything you do is one step better than the way I do it. Smarter, more athletic, better job. I love you because you don't seem to notice it. Not many can be both self-confident and self-deprecating, but that's you. Doing it better than anybody else.
Don't Ever Go To Jail, Girls
I volunteer for an organization that sends volunteers out into the county courthouses to monitor cases involving domestic violence and sexual assault. I go, armed with a red clipboard and lots of papers, and watch what happens. Uh, yeah. This is what I do for a good time. So. I went yesterday.
I find myself in felony arraignments a lot. I like being in felony arraignments. If you go to watch pre-trials and trials and other things that sound sexier than arraignments you end up sitting there staring at the second hand on the clock go around and around and around (and around some more). If you are a super experienced volunteer, and I'll go ahead and give myself longevity in my volunteering career at WATCH, you might even have remembered to bring a novel and you will inevitably be able to read over 100 pages of said novel before you see a single freaking thing worth noting.
But felony arraignments. The calendar says these proceedings start at 1:30 and they usually do. No book! No clock staring! Plus, it's in the same building as the jail, so defendants are right there, they don't have to be transported eighty million blocks.
There are apparently A LOT of folks committing felonies in Hennepin County so lots of folks need to be arraigned. The calendar may have anywhere from 15 to 25 cases on it (I've personally never seen more than 25 cases, but I guess the Wednesday after the fourth of July there were over 40 cases which is insane). The judge wants to get his or her ass out of there before 4:30, so this means felony arraignments haul ass.
The folks in the gallery in felony arraignments are usually perfectly respectable friends and family members of the defendants in custody.
(Parenthetical paragraph: I have gone my entire life without knowingly committing a felony. Some of these defendants have criminal histories that make me exceedingly proud of my good citizenness. Sure, I may be a grad school dropout who is underemployed and not living up to my potential, but damn it, I've never committed a felony. Or been charged with one. And I vote regularly. So I win the game of life? No, I guess not.)
Yesterday, a woman sat next to me in the gallery. She had four little girls with her. They ranged in age from about six to maybe ten or eleven. They were adorable girls, well-dressed except for their flip-flops which are footwear that should be legislated off the planet, well-behaved except for the occasional snicker when someone said something dumb in the courtroom, and they made me smile when I sat down.
But they stayed in the courtroom the entire two hours I was there. Whatever case they were there to see was the last case heard. Those four little girls heard details about kidnapping, rape, murder, burglary, and assault charges. Those four little girls saw defendant after defendant in orange jumpsuits courtesy of the jail. Those four little girls saw someone they know behind that glass, heard someone they know answer questions about a crime he may or may not have committed.
Yes, those little girls made me smile when I first entered the courtroom. But by the end of the session, those girls made me sad. I'm sure it wasn't that woman's fault that she had to be there to see her boyfriend/father/husband/baby daddy/uncle/brother. I'm sure it wasn't her fault that her boyfriend/father/husband/baby daddy/uncle/brother probably committed some heinous crime. I'm sure it wasn't her fault she couldn't afford a babysitter. It wasn't her fault she couldn't leave them home alone while she did this bit of business on her own. But I certainly faulted her.
It pained me. I looked at them, innocently poking each other and picking at their nails. I looked at her and my anger simmered.
I followed them out of the courtroom.
She turned around. "Hey, excuse me? Can you tell me what just happened? What does $15,000 bail mean?"
She could only be talking to me.
"Um. That's the bail amount he needs to pay to get out of jail until his next court appearance?"
"So he only pays part of that, right?"
I shuddered. My knowledge of the bail process is sketchy at best. I hugged my clipboard to my chest, not wanting her to see my notes about the four little girls who shouldn't have been allowed in the courtroom.
"Um. Well if you go to a bail bondsman, they ask for a certain percentage of the bail in cash and collateral for the rest of the amount. Usually 10% in cash I think."
"So 10% of 15,000 would be a couple hundred dollars?"
My jaw dropped. "$1500. You just move the decimal over once." You can't do this simple math!! WTF?! How do you balance your checkbook?!
"$1500! So much!! Poor thing. If he doesn't pay it, he sits in jail?"
At this point, my rage with this poor woman boiled over. "Poor thing?! He broke into someone's house WITH A GUN and stole stuff. Stuff that didn't belong to him!! Yes, he sits in jail."
We walked out in silence.
Just before we parted, she said, "He said my address is his. It's not. My girls," she nodded at them, "I need to keep them safe."
"I'm sorry." I had no idea what to say. But I couldn't leave it like that. I look at the girls, "You guys did well in there. I know it was boring."
They smiled at me. And then, as if there was a devil on my shoulder, urging me to be the world's biggest bitch, "don't ever go to jail, girls."
I crossed the street. Crossed into my privileged, felony-free life with my judgmental comments all over the paperwork I had in my hands.
I'm sorry girls. I let you down just as much as your mother did.
I find myself in felony arraignments a lot. I like being in felony arraignments. If you go to watch pre-trials and trials and other things that sound sexier than arraignments you end up sitting there staring at the second hand on the clock go around and around and around (and around some more). If you are a super experienced volunteer, and I'll go ahead and give myself longevity in my volunteering career at WATCH, you might even have remembered to bring a novel and you will inevitably be able to read over 100 pages of said novel before you see a single freaking thing worth noting.
But felony arraignments. The calendar says these proceedings start at 1:30 and they usually do. No book! No clock staring! Plus, it's in the same building as the jail, so defendants are right there, they don't have to be transported eighty million blocks.
There are apparently A LOT of folks committing felonies in Hennepin County so lots of folks need to be arraigned. The calendar may have anywhere from 15 to 25 cases on it (I've personally never seen more than 25 cases, but I guess the Wednesday after the fourth of July there were over 40 cases which is insane). The judge wants to get his or her ass out of there before 4:30, so this means felony arraignments haul ass.
The folks in the gallery in felony arraignments are usually perfectly respectable friends and family members of the defendants in custody.
(Parenthetical paragraph: I have gone my entire life without knowingly committing a felony. Some of these defendants have criminal histories that make me exceedingly proud of my good citizenness. Sure, I may be a grad school dropout who is underemployed and not living up to my potential, but damn it, I've never committed a felony. Or been charged with one. And I vote regularly. So I win the game of life? No, I guess not.)
Yesterday, a woman sat next to me in the gallery. She had four little girls with her. They ranged in age from about six to maybe ten or eleven. They were adorable girls, well-dressed except for their flip-flops which are footwear that should be legislated off the planet, well-behaved except for the occasional snicker when someone said something dumb in the courtroom, and they made me smile when I sat down.
But they stayed in the courtroom the entire two hours I was there. Whatever case they were there to see was the last case heard. Those four little girls heard details about kidnapping, rape, murder, burglary, and assault charges. Those four little girls saw defendant after defendant in orange jumpsuits courtesy of the jail. Those four little girls saw someone they know behind that glass, heard someone they know answer questions about a crime he may or may not have committed.
Yes, those little girls made me smile when I first entered the courtroom. But by the end of the session, those girls made me sad. I'm sure it wasn't that woman's fault that she had to be there to see her boyfriend/father/husband/baby daddy/uncle/brother. I'm sure it wasn't her fault that her boyfriend/father/husband/baby daddy/uncle/brother probably committed some heinous crime. I'm sure it wasn't her fault she couldn't afford a babysitter. It wasn't her fault she couldn't leave them home alone while she did this bit of business on her own. But I certainly faulted her.
It pained me. I looked at them, innocently poking each other and picking at their nails. I looked at her and my anger simmered.
I followed them out of the courtroom.
She turned around. "Hey, excuse me? Can you tell me what just happened? What does $15,000 bail mean?"
She could only be talking to me.
"Um. That's the bail amount he needs to pay to get out of jail until his next court appearance?"
"So he only pays part of that, right?"
I shuddered. My knowledge of the bail process is sketchy at best. I hugged my clipboard to my chest, not wanting her to see my notes about the four little girls who shouldn't have been allowed in the courtroom.
"Um. Well if you go to a bail bondsman, they ask for a certain percentage of the bail in cash and collateral for the rest of the amount. Usually 10% in cash I think."
"So 10% of 15,000 would be a couple hundred dollars?"
My jaw dropped. "$1500. You just move the decimal over once." You can't do this simple math!! WTF?! How do you balance your checkbook?!
"$1500! So much!! Poor thing. If he doesn't pay it, he sits in jail?"
At this point, my rage with this poor woman boiled over. "Poor thing?! He broke into someone's house WITH A GUN and stole stuff. Stuff that didn't belong to him!! Yes, he sits in jail."
We walked out in silence.
Just before we parted, she said, "He said my address is his. It's not. My girls," she nodded at them, "I need to keep them safe."
"I'm sorry." I had no idea what to say. But I couldn't leave it like that. I look at the girls, "You guys did well in there. I know it was boring."
They smiled at me. And then, as if there was a devil on my shoulder, urging me to be the world's biggest bitch, "don't ever go to jail, girls."
I crossed the street. Crossed into my privileged, felony-free life with my judgmental comments all over the paperwork I had in my hands.
I'm sorry girls. I let you down just as much as your mother did.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
45 x 365 #183
183/365 - KM
You kept sending us cards and letters, but he kept refusing them. I invited you to our wedding and there you whispered, "you are everything I dreamed you could be." You didn't say it, but I could hear "despite the monster he was" added silently.
You kept sending us cards and letters, but he kept refusing them. I invited you to our wedding and there you whispered, "you are everything I dreamed you could be." You didn't say it, but I could hear "despite the monster he was" added silently.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
In Which I Come Clean
Last month I didn't ride my bike much. There was no good reason for this. I am quite definitely underemployed this summer. I am in reasonably good shape considering I am a lazy dope. My bike is well maintained thanks to being married to boy genius. He put new cables, new brakes, and a new chain on it sometime in May. The boy and I went for a ride around the Lakes (Harriet, Cedar, Isles, and Calhoun if anyone cares) early in June and afterwards I simply put the bike up on its mount in our living room and ignored it.
I made excuses. It was too far to ride my bike. It was raining. We had gone for a run that morning. The bike path along that area was in bad shape. I was hungry. Excuses, excuses, excuses.
Then I thought about it. It was the last decent riding weather last November when I was an idiot and fell on my bike and broke my hand. And that was my last experience with my bike until that day we went around the Lakes. I thought I was over the fear that the accident of stupidity caused, but when I was honest with myself I knew that somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind there were some issues. The first time I rode somewhere for the first time by myself, I was convinced that something awful would happen.
I was scared.
I vowed that July would be different. I'd ride everywhere. I was going to fill up the gas tank only once and drive only to places far away and not in bike riding distance (and the grocery store, which...we probably should ride our bikes to the grocery store, but we just got ourselves some reusable bags so we're going to save the planet one behavioral change at a time people!). I didn't mention this to the boy because I didn't want him to know that I was harboring a fear of my bike in the first place.
So. That's what I've been doing. The truck has moved exactly four times since July 1. Twice to go to the grocery store (I know, I know), once for me to go teach a class in Wisconsin (which is another state, so definitely not bikeable for me), and just today the boy took it to go to a pseudo- job interview (he has the job, it's mostly a formality). Tonight I will be taking it again to Wisconsin, but I am a two wheeling fool.
And guess what? I am still a bit scared I am going to do something stupid and injure myself again.
So. What's a girl to do?
I made excuses. It was too far to ride my bike. It was raining. We had gone for a run that morning. The bike path along that area was in bad shape. I was hungry. Excuses, excuses, excuses.
Then I thought about it. It was the last decent riding weather last November when I was an idiot and fell on my bike and broke my hand. And that was my last experience with my bike until that day we went around the Lakes. I thought I was over the fear that the accident of stupidity caused, but when I was honest with myself I knew that somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind there were some issues. The first time I rode somewhere for the first time by myself, I was convinced that something awful would happen.
I was scared.
I vowed that July would be different. I'd ride everywhere. I was going to fill up the gas tank only once and drive only to places far away and not in bike riding distance (and the grocery store, which...we probably should ride our bikes to the grocery store, but we just got ourselves some reusable bags so we're going to save the planet one behavioral change at a time people!). I didn't mention this to the boy because I didn't want him to know that I was harboring a fear of my bike in the first place.
So. That's what I've been doing. The truck has moved exactly four times since July 1. Twice to go to the grocery store (I know, I know), once for me to go teach a class in Wisconsin (which is another state, so definitely not bikeable for me), and just today the boy took it to go to a pseudo- job interview (he has the job, it's mostly a formality). Tonight I will be taking it again to Wisconsin, but I am a two wheeling fool.
And guess what? I am still a bit scared I am going to do something stupid and injure myself again.
So. What's a girl to do?
Monday, July 13, 2009
45 x 364 #182
You married young to a man who would be sent away to prison for thirty years. You stayed loyal to him through all of that and now that he's out of prison and living with you, you spend your days wondering where your freedom went.
Friday, July 10, 2009
45 x 365 #181
Thursday, July 09, 2009
45 x 365 #180
180/365 - RO
When I think of my ideal of father, you are who I have in mind. Patient with your now adult kids. A booming laugh that comes easily and frequently. I really would try and steal you from your wife if you were thirty years younger.
When I think of my ideal of father, you are who I have in mind. Patient with your now adult kids. A booming laugh that comes easily and frequently. I really would try and steal you from your wife if you were thirty years younger.
Things I Love
Today Abby at Bright Yellow World did a list of 10 things she loves. I thought it was genius, left a comment that was longer than her original post (sorry!), and promptly decided to steal her idea. I am brilliant that way.
1) The first minute laying down in bed, when the physical exhaustion meets the mental exhaustion and I can turn it all off and relax.
2) A kiss on my forehead from my husband.
3) The raft of baby pictures hanging on the front of our refrigerator.
4) Starting a walk at 8:00 in the evening and knowing it will still be light out when I’ve finished.
5) The feel of wind buffeting me as I ride my bike.
6) Listening to country music cranked up loud in my truck, driving fast on a back road, windows rolled down, air conditioning turned up as high as it will go.
7) The sounds of kids laughing, screaming, and playing in the park.
8) An evening curled up in a ball on the couch, reading a Sookie Stackhouse book.
9) Knowing I can pay for my bills and maybe even a pedicure, too.
10) The days of freedom that summer gives me.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
45 x 365 #179
179/365 - AO
You had panic over turning thirty. Even though you love your job, there's no room for advancement in it. You don't have a steady love in your life. Despite your brash, loud exterior, you are a sensitive soul who is nervous about your future life.
You had panic over turning thirty. Even though you love your job, there's no room for advancement in it. You don't have a steady love in your life. Despite your brash, loud exterior, you are a sensitive soul who is nervous about your future life.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
45 x 365 #178
178/365 - RL
You threatened to kill me if I didn't stop checking up on her. She was my best friend and no arrogant wanker like you could change that. You used her, abused her, and I am not in the least bit sorry you're no longer around.
You threatened to kill me if I didn't stop checking up on her. She was my best friend and no arrogant wanker like you could change that. You used her, abused her, and I am not in the least bit sorry you're no longer around.
Monday, July 06, 2009
45 x 365 #177
177/365 - MP
On the outside, soft and fluffy, the perfect grandma, the nicest woman on the block. On the inside, a tough old broad who teaches moral lessons with every cookie and a past with enough drama to make those of us from a certain generation cringe.
On the outside, soft and fluffy, the perfect grandma, the nicest woman on the block. On the inside, a tough old broad who teaches moral lessons with every cookie and a past with enough drama to make those of us from a certain generation cringe.
Updates on this and that
1) In late May, my niece and nephew arrived a bit earlier than expected. It was a scary experience for all of the family, most especially my sister- and brother-in-law. The babies are now both over five pounds and are doing pretty well. Baby K still has some trouble digesting, so she gets some help with eating and Baby O has a brain bleed that is pretty severe, but seems to be repairing itself on its own. Both babies have been transferred to a new hospital in their hometown, so now everyone in their family is in the same zip code (yay!). They are in a twins room, so they are together all day, and they have been moved out of warming tables, out of isolettes, and now they are in cribs. They will potentially be in the NICU for another six or seven weeks, but we're keeping our fingers crossed that their progress will continue to stay on this upward course.
2) While we were in Chicago, my best friend gave me the first book in a series of books by Charlaine Harris. These books are what the HBO series True Blood is based on. (If anyone has any doubts as to what kind of people we are, you should keep in mind that we would go back to the hotel room after a long day and read quietly for an hour or two. So we're nerds.) I gobbled that book up. Then, when I got home, she sent me a box filled with rest of the series. I am addicted. So there's that.
But, the thing is that the main character in this series, Sookie Stackhouse, is a telepath. She can hear thoughts of people around her. Since I started reading these books, I am terrified that someone nearby will be a telepath and will listen to my thoughts. So I am trying to think only nice thoughts. And I had no idea until this started that my thoughts were so negative!!
3) We're still running 30 minutes three times a week. My calves are really showing results. I still look like hell when we're done (red face doesn't begin to describe it - more like purple face) and I'm still straining for breath after about two minutes in, but the results are worth it. I feel stronger and it makes biking all the more straightforward. I just started taking regular allergy medication this week , so I'm hoping that I'll see some additional progress with my breathing because of that.
In addition, let's talk about my hair. For a long time, I've been reading that people with fine, thin hair should not be washing their hair every day. And I was like, uh huh, my hair is disgustingly oily if I don't wash it everyday. Then one day I didn't have time to properly shower after my run and my hair? My hair was wonderful. It was full of body and did what I told it to do. So I now only wash my hair every other day. Because I run. Weird, huh?
4) I've been cat sitting for the last two weeks. The cat, Sally (I refuse to give her a nickname - her name is Sally), is a touchy thing. Sometimes she loves me. Sometimes she hates me. I have only been scratched once, but her family is coming back in three days and I really can't wait!! It's been nice riding my bike to feed her (it's probably a 6-7 mile ride there), but it ends up taking all afternoon, with the going downtown, spending time with her to make sure she doesn't turn feral, and the riding back. So, if you're wondering what I'm doing with my time, wonder no more. I'm cat sitting.
2) While we were in Chicago, my best friend gave me the first book in a series of books by Charlaine Harris. These books are what the HBO series True Blood is based on. (If anyone has any doubts as to what kind of people we are, you should keep in mind that we would go back to the hotel room after a long day and read quietly for an hour or two. So we're nerds.) I gobbled that book up. Then, when I got home, she sent me a box filled with rest of the series. I am addicted. So there's that.
But, the thing is that the main character in this series, Sookie Stackhouse, is a telepath. She can hear thoughts of people around her. Since I started reading these books, I am terrified that someone nearby will be a telepath and will listen to my thoughts. So I am trying to think only nice thoughts. And I had no idea until this started that my thoughts were so negative!!
3) We're still running 30 minutes three times a week. My calves are really showing results. I still look like hell when we're done (red face doesn't begin to describe it - more like purple face) and I'm still straining for breath after about two minutes in, but the results are worth it. I feel stronger and it makes biking all the more straightforward. I just started taking regular allergy medication this week , so I'm hoping that I'll see some additional progress with my breathing because of that.
In addition, let's talk about my hair. For a long time, I've been reading that people with fine, thin hair should not be washing their hair every day. And I was like, uh huh, my hair is disgustingly oily if I don't wash it everyday. Then one day I didn't have time to properly shower after my run and my hair? My hair was wonderful. It was full of body and did what I told it to do. So I now only wash my hair every other day. Because I run. Weird, huh?
4) I've been cat sitting for the last two weeks. The cat, Sally (I refuse to give her a nickname - her name is Sally), is a touchy thing. Sometimes she loves me. Sometimes she hates me. I have only been scratched once, but her family is coming back in three days and I really can't wait!! It's been nice riding my bike to feed her (it's probably a 6-7 mile ride there), but it ends up taking all afternoon, with the going downtown, spending time with her to make sure she doesn't turn feral, and the riding back. So, if you're wondering what I'm doing with my time, wonder no more. I'm cat sitting.
Friday, July 03, 2009
45 x 365 #176
176/365 - GP
He doesn't say much, but looks at his wife with all the love in his world. He's the guy who looks at his ill-dressed niece, shivering in the cold, and immediately wraps his coat around her. A guy you love to have in your life.
He doesn't say much, but looks at his wife with all the love in his world. He's the guy who looks at his ill-dressed niece, shivering in the cold, and immediately wraps his coat around her. A guy you love to have in your life.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
45 x 365 #175
175/365 - MP
A young man suffering from anxiety and depression, always sitting in the corner, smiling through the fog. A talented writer, writing a screenplay based on an obscure, lonely comic book character you feel more of an affinity for than any other person in your life.
A young man suffering from anxiety and depression, always sitting in the corner, smiling through the fog. A talented writer, writing a screenplay based on an obscure, lonely comic book character you feel more of an affinity for than any other person in your life.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Chicago Trip
I know I mentioned it earlier, but my best friend and I went on a trip to Chicago a couple of weeks ago. Here's what we did.
1) Walked a lot. We were relying on public transit, which was fun and educational. Part of the fun was walking through a parking garage to get to the nearest train station to our hotel. There was a sign that said, "CTA here," but, ummmm, the station was actually quite far away from the sign. Here's some graffiti from that famous parking ramp.
2) Whined about the weather. It was either blistering hot or freezing cold and raining. You pick. It depended on the day. This one was taken on the cold, rainy day. Here I am, not using the umbrella. Because it is kind of a crappy umbrella and couldn't cover both of us, so I martyred myself. I will not use it either!!
3) Posed cheesily on the beach. Wearing an Elvis shirt. Apparently the Elvis shirt is tacky. I guess I didn't know. But! Look! I am at the beach. For the first and last time in the calendar year of 2009. I mean, gross. Sand. In your shoes. I think I have a sensory disorder.
4) Laughed. Oh, how we laughed.
1) Walked a lot. We were relying on public transit, which was fun and educational. Part of the fun was walking through a parking garage to get to the nearest train station to our hotel. There was a sign that said, "CTA here," but, ummmm, the station was actually quite far away from the sign. Here's some graffiti from that famous parking ramp.
2) Whined about the weather. It was either blistering hot or freezing cold and raining. You pick. It depended on the day. This one was taken on the cold, rainy day. Here I am, not using the umbrella. Because it is kind of a crappy umbrella and couldn't cover both of us, so I martyred myself. I will not use it either!!
3) Posed cheesily on the beach. Wearing an Elvis shirt. Apparently the Elvis shirt is tacky. I guess I didn't know. But! Look! I am at the beach. For the first and last time in the calendar year of 2009. I mean, gross. Sand. In your shoes. I think I have a sensory disorder.
4) Laughed. Oh, how we laughed.
45 x 365 #174
174/365 - CR
Strange. They call you strange. Your eating habits appall them. Your inability to count by twos shocks them into silence. Your naivete floors them. Yet when I talk to you, one on one, you seem normal to me. Age appropriate and quirky, yes. Strange, no.
Strange. They call you strange. Your eating habits appall them. Your inability to count by twos shocks them into silence. Your naivete floors them. Yet when I talk to you, one on one, you seem normal to me. Age appropriate and quirky, yes. Strange, no.
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