Showing posts from September, 2005

5 reasons why today is marvelous

1. S-Boogie slept in until 9 this morning, so I had a little time to myself to do things like wash the dishes and surf the net with out her destroying the house or clinging to my leg whining like a dejected puppy. And I read her a scripture story from the Friend while she ate breakfast, so extra mom points for me. 2. S-Boogie played by herself for nearly an hour while I read Don Quijote 3. I went to the gym and it's starting to hurt less. Afterwards I tried my new pear-scented deodorant and I like it. Mmm, fruity. 4. Fabulous brownies and cool tunes from editorgirl 5. Tonight I do not have to cook dinner because I am going to a mission reunion where there will be a giant paella

Since everyone else is doing it....

"All of a sudden I felt like I was back in the gym of my junior high school hoping someone would notice me, or, even worse, at PTA night at Skate Palace trying to look sexy on roller skates." 1. Delve into your blog. 2. Find the twenty-third post. 3. Find the fifth sentence. 4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

I'm a big girl

No, not me: S-Boogie. She went pee in her potty for the very first time tonight. I've gotten her to sit on it and try before her bath, since she has her clothes off anyway. So far nothing had happened. But tonight she got up, looked inside, and showed me that she had peed in there! Wow! The truth is, this doesn't really mean a lot, since she still can't get her own pants off or tell me when she needs to go. I'm not really ready to train her yet, either. I kind of like the diaper thing, to tell you the truth. But, this is a step in the right direction. And now I get to go clean the pee out of the potty. Joy.

Kicking against the pricks

I hereby repent of my barefoot ways; yesterday I ventured outside without shoes and I am now paying the price for it. We were at my brother-in-law's house yesterday for a barbecue. Most of us were inside, but S-Boogie and our niece wanted to play in the backyard. At least we made them put on shoes before they went. I was watching through the glass door when I noticed S-Boogie eyeing the neighbor's yard (it's a newish subdivision and BIL doesn't have a fence up yet). I stepped out to try and get her to come back, when she took off running over into the next yard. Following my mother instinct, I ran after her, forgetting that I wasn't wearing shoes. Suddenly I found myself in terrible pain--the neighbor's yard was covered with mats of prickly weeds and my feet were full of little thorns. I grabbed S-Boogie and managed to get back to the grass, where I immediately sat down and started pulling all the thorns out. Now my feet are full of little holes and they hurt li

Easy Rider

When I was a kid, we used to go outside and wait for my dad to come home from work. He usually rode his Harley, so you could hear him coming for several minutes before he actually got home. Then we would jump up and down and shout while he pulled into the driveway. Sometimes he would give us rides on the bike, putting us in front of him with our feet up on the gas tank. We would go around the block like that, and it was always thrilling to get to ride with Dad on his motorcycle. I don't remember riding much after turning 6 or 7, probably because I got to big to sit in front like that. The other week while my parents were here, my mom noted that when they get their stuff out to Vegas, S-Boogie will be able to go for a motorcycle ride with Grandpa. (S-Boogie loves motorcycles and gets very excited whenever one goes by.) At the time I just said something like, "great", but now I'm a little freaked out. I totally trust my dad--he has decades of riding experience and he is

Desocupado lector

The other day in my Don Quixote class we were discussing reading and the relationship between literature and our thoughts and actions. We read a piece from Dante's Inferno about two adulterous lovers, Paolo and Francesca. They were condemned to spend eternity in an embrace, which was torture because they did not have bodies and could not enjoy each other. Anyways, their excuse was that they had been reading the story of Lancelot together and were so overwhelmed by the romance that they begin to kiss, etc. It is very much similar to the whole "don't lay down on the couch with your boyfriend and watch R-rated movies" thing. So as a class we discussed the problems of the media and reading, since Don Quixote read so much that his brains dried up and he thought he was a character in chivalric romances. We also got into the whole "liken the scriptures to yourself thing", at which point Dr. Rosenberg gave me and the guy next to me a dirty look. That was because t

Strong enough for a woman

I went to the gym today. The plan is to go every Monday, Wednesday and Friday during my two hour break between classes (well, I don't have a second class on Friday, but I still have gym time). In the past I have tried working out, but I've never been consistent enough with it to really see any results, and my exercise programs usually end up fizzling out after a little while. But this time I'm not going to let it slide. Today, however I discovered a few important things: 1. Always bring a book. Riding the stationary bike is just torture without a book to hide the stupid little clock that tells you that, yes, it really has been only three minutes. 2. I really need to either bring something else to wear under my gym clothes or else stuff to shower with. Today I had neither, and as I was changing back into my clothes I realized that my underwear was really sweaty. So I just had to go to my next class hoping that no one would notice that I smelled like a locker room. Luckily my

Happy pills

I just took my first dose of antidepressants tonight. I'm a little nervous to see how it goes--I think I'm most afraid that drugs won't do anything and that I really am just a miserable person. The psychiatrist I talked to today was very optimistic that we could find something that will work for me, but now I have to wait a few weeks to figure out if it's working or not. I actually still feel drained from my appointment with him. This is the second time in the last few weeks that I've spent nearly an hour telling a total stranger all about my life. I worry because most of the time I choose to focus on the positive and I don't think my life is all that bad compared to most people I know, but when I'm telling people all the possible reasons that I may be anxious and depressed, their eyes widen a little and they just nod in agreement. Both the counselor I've been seeing and now the psychiatrist I saw today think that I really do have a lot of major "s

A load off

We had the sacrament meeting program today and it went really well. Even when I wasn't serving in Primary I always enjoyed the nice little break from regular talks. Today was a little weird since I was sitting by the stand helping with the kids, so I got to spend the entire program with my back to the congregation. The kids sang loudly, they all did their parts well, and there were very few distracting hijinks from any of them. We even managed to fill most of the time we needed to and didn't come up short. Now I just hope we never have to sing any of those songs again!

We have the same haircut


How to dress your man

We went to the mall tonight and shopped. At the Gap. I generally am not into shopping or very aware of fashion at all, but lately I realized that Master Fob needed some new clothes for his amazing teaching career. This is still kind of weird for me to admit, because I've never really been picky about his clothes. And I feel like he's good looking as it is and does well picking out things on his own. And I feel like I'm becoming too much of a Fascinating Woman by commenting on his wardrobe. But I consulted with my sister, who goes shopping much more frequently than we do, and we got some good ideas for him to try out. So we ended up at the Gap and now Master Fob looks like the hip young professor that he is.

Why are all the single guys unhappy?

So in her blog today Cicada referenced a "happiness survey" that seemed to indicate that single men are the most unhappy of any group (the other options being single women, married women, and married men). Of course there are no statistics to back up these claims, but I have been wondering why it is that single men would feel so much more unhappy than single women. I think a major part of the problem is that our society does little to encourage male intimacy. When girls get together, what do they talk about? Deep, emotional stuff (OK, not all the time, but there is bonding going on there). When guys get together they talk about cars, guns, computers, fishing, sports, etc. I think part of it is cultural expectations and part of it is inherent male reticence. Yeah, everyone says that guys just want to get married so they can have sex, but that's really only part of it. Sex has a lot to do with intimacy and vulnerability, and guys don't have much of an outlet for those

Why I am now a minimalist

Master Fob and I have been stumbling around trying to figure out HTML on our own and last night he decided that my blog needed to look a little more fun and personal. Despite the fact that I am much more green than yellow, the fact that there is no yellow on "Yellow Wallpaper" really bothered him, so we were seeking to find a solution to the problem. We did some really cool things that look great on the preview. But for some reason they didn't stick. It was a little too late to keep going without turning into zombie people the next day, so perhaps tonight we can solve the problem. Until then, it's just under construction.

Reincarnated clothing

I had a weird thought this morning as I was getting dressed for church. I decided to wear one of my favorite skirts, a long, blue number with a flower print on it. I got the skirt a few years ago at DI and have worn it frequently since then. I like it because it matches several different tops that I have, so I can wear it during any season. It is also long enough to wear when I haven't shaved my legs, and it is a size bigger than my usual so the waistband is extra comfy. So this morning as I was putting it on, I realized that I had never thought about the person who had it before I did. I buy a lot of my clothes at thrift stores and I don't think I've ever thought about what they did before I bought them. I wonder if the person who owned my skirt wore it frequently, or if it generally hid in the back of the closet. And why did she give it away? Did it get too small or just out of fashion? I wonder if it did anything exciting, like go on a mission. Mine has gone to Hawaii an

Kid on a leash

My parents were both in town for the weekend, so we went to the zoo today. I decided to try using S- Boogie's harness, since she doesn't like her stroller much lately and it's hard to see the animals when she's sitting in it. If we take her somewhere without having her strapped in the stroller or into a shopping cart, we tend to have the same conversation about fifty bazillion times: "You can either walk and hold my hand or I will carry you." Which means that she either: (1) holds my hand but lets her legs go limp until I let go because I worry that I pull her arm out of the socket, (2) lets me pick her up but then contorts herself like a rabid octopus, or (3) runs away giggling maniacally. Hence, the leash. When I got it out of the bag and put it on her, I immediately felt very self conscious because I know some people who saw us were probably thinking I was crazy. But, it was actually a very nice set up for both of us. She could run all over the place, and

Female troubles

99.9% of the time I am totally happy being a woman. Seriously, I love my gender and I really wouldn't want to be a man, even if I could have the priesthood. There are, however, a few days out of every month where I want to rip my uterus out and ship it back. I don't want to be a woman today, it hurts too much. And today is the day that Master Fob gets to work both jobs and I get to be home alone all day with S-Boogie (except for that one hour of class). Hurray. I think that we shall sit on the couch and watch a lot of television.

Peninsular Party

That sounds a little dirty, doesn't it? Anyways, last night I got to go to a little shindig put on by two of the professors in the department (they are married, to each other). It was for all the graduate students who are studying peninsular literature, which basically means stuff from Spain. The problem is, if you say "Spanish Literature" it doesn't help, since it's the Spanish department and everything we read is in Spanish. So we have "Peninsular" and "Latin American" literature sections. The party was actually pretty fun, and most of the professors were there too. It was a nice chance to just mingle with other people and get to know the newer grad students a little too. I did feel a little bad for the one girl who pointed out that she's the only unmarried graduate student in the section right now, but there are only about 8 of us total so it's not like we totally outnumber her (just 7 to 1, it could be worse). I also found it inter

Knitting up the revell'd sleeve of care

Last night I forgot how to sleep. I got in bed at a reasonable time and lay awake for nearly an hour. Then I got up and took a sleeping pill and spent another half hour or so on the internet until my brain felt like mush. Yuck. Yesterday I got a little email all about "Your toddler's 25th month of life". In it they kindly reminded me that S-Boogie has spent more time asleep than awake during the last 25 months she has been on Earth. Thanks for reminding me of that fact... It is amazing, though, how much time babies and little kids do spend sleeping. We put her to bed at 8 every night and she sleeps until 8 the next morning. Plus she gets a two hour or so nap every afternoon. I know that they think that all that sleep is to help their little brains develop so quickly, but I think part of it is an evolutionary thing. Parents need a break from their children, or no one would make it past 3 years old. When every hour with a toddler feels like an entire day, it's nice to k


When I was much younger, I remember reading a few books about the internment of the Japanese in California during WWII. In one of the books the author described how they were first rounded up and placed in the stables of a nearby race track for a few months, where each family was assigned a stall as their home. For some reason, the description of these sort of living arrangements, where an entire community is transported into a much smaller, camp-like setting, fascinated me. I used to wonder about what would happen if some kind of natural disaster occurred and everyone had to move into my school or to my church. Each family would just camp out in a room and then we'd all eat together in the gym and sit around talking peacefully at night. It's kind of weird that the idea attracted me so much, but I was a fairly little kid and prone to weird daydreaming. I have decided now that that is a scenario that I never, ever want to have to live out. I've been watching the news a littl