Federal proposal - submitted
Life - moving on
Zac- still not sleeping worth a damn and stands, mesmerized, when the face of Elmo appears on the TV screen and starts talking to him during, "Seaseme Street".
Elmo - oddly talks in third person. "Elmo's happy today. Are you happy today? Elmo is veeeerrry happy today because Elmo is going to go see his friend."
Me - doing better, thanks. Still just so unbelievably tired. My apartment looks like I've been letting Zac run around unfettered for two or three weeks (not true) and not picking up after him (true). Earlier in the week, I had to say to my friend Lars, "Don't worry about that mess on the couch. It's just dried banana. It won't get on your pants or anything." Lars, who has no kids of his own, looked at me like I just grew a second head. I followed up with, "Umm..you also shouldn't get too close to Zac because I think he just pooped and I'm waiting for an e-mail from my boss before I go and give him a bath."
After I got him out of the bath, he sat down on the living room rug and pooped (again). Then stood up and quickly moved away from the offending mess, laughing, while I groaned inside and went into the kitchen for paper towels.
Nothing says, "Thanks for being the friend of a single Mom" like a fresh pile of shit.
Friends, Family, Bloggers, Commenters, and Lurkers - all and all: amazing.
Showing posts with label Uncategorized. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uncategorized. Show all posts
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
1/22
Thoughts in vignette:
Last night I dreamt that I was helping Mr. Tugboat complete an on-line form at an internet cafe. He wasn't able to submit the form and I offered to help him. I spent countless dream hours inserting and reinserting the CD that he had his information on. My Dad walked up to the computer we were at and saw me franticly trying to help Tug. I was stressed because I needed to go somewhere, maybe it was just anywhere off that computer and away from him. I left the cafe and later met up with my Dad in basement, oddly reminicent of the intersecting Lego-land basements at the house I lived in at college. My Dad told me that Tug was dating the woman at the cafe with him, who I knew from high school. He also said that Mr. Tugboat was thankful for the rainy weather because it increased his chances of getting laid because Stacey wouldn't want to drive home in the rain. I told my Dad that it made me want to punch Mr. Tugboat.
Zac has been imitating me in amazing and unbelievable ways. I was sitting on the corner of my bed, with my makeup bag in my lap, putting on makeup - foundation, eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick. Zac stood up next to me and grabbed each item of makeup as I dropped it into my bag. Instead of taking the small piece of foam out of the complicated compact case, he rubbed the entire compact around his smiling cheeks and forehead. The mascara tube was dutifully seized and applied, unopened, to his small eyelashes, while I tried not to laugh. He twisted the lipstick tube over and over, trying to get it open. When he couldn't, and when I eventually took the lipstick away from him to avoid a laundry-catastrophe, he fell onto the floor in a fit of dismay and began crying. I think he wanted the full Mauve Colorstay Lipglide experience. I love him for that.
Depression, by definition, causes people to withdraw into themselves. Even the most outgoing of individuals will seem shut-off and unable to access the love and support around them. I'm essentially an extremely honest, blunt introvert by nature. Even under the best circumstances, I will feel awkward in a social setting and will do better talking to someone one rather than in a group. When I'm dealing with depression, writing on this blog is an act of will. It forces me to continually reevaluate where I am emotionally and what I want to share. There are many days when I just want to write, "AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH" then silence.
My friend in East Texas will think twice before inviting a toddler up to her apartment again. She's in graduate school in a rural town about 3 hours north of Houston. After an evening of whole milk and fabulous Tex-Mex food, Zac threw up all over her queen-size bed. I was able to control his spray to the back wall and her pillow. She handed me the last clean towel she owned (she owns three) and looked perplexed when I asked for clean sheets so I could change the bed for her. She told me that she only owned one set of sheets. I looked at her, in a 4am haze, and tried to remember my life before I had a child. I think even back then, it wouldn't have made sense to only have one set of sheets. That's even before I had a puke-o-matic lying next to me.
Last night I dreamt that I was helping Mr. Tugboat complete an on-line form at an internet cafe. He wasn't able to submit the form and I offered to help him. I spent countless dream hours inserting and reinserting the CD that he had his information on. My Dad walked up to the computer we were at and saw me franticly trying to help Tug. I was stressed because I needed to go somewhere, maybe it was just anywhere off that computer and away from him. I left the cafe and later met up with my Dad in basement, oddly reminicent of the intersecting Lego-land basements at the house I lived in at college. My Dad told me that Tug was dating the woman at the cafe with him, who I knew from high school. He also said that Mr. Tugboat was thankful for the rainy weather because it increased his chances of getting laid because Stacey wouldn't want to drive home in the rain. I told my Dad that it made me want to punch Mr. Tugboat.
Zac has been imitating me in amazing and unbelievable ways. I was sitting on the corner of my bed, with my makeup bag in my lap, putting on makeup - foundation, eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick. Zac stood up next to me and grabbed each item of makeup as I dropped it into my bag. Instead of taking the small piece of foam out of the complicated compact case, he rubbed the entire compact around his smiling cheeks and forehead. The mascara tube was dutifully seized and applied, unopened, to his small eyelashes, while I tried not to laugh. He twisted the lipstick tube over and over, trying to get it open. When he couldn't, and when I eventually took the lipstick away from him to avoid a laundry-catastrophe, he fell onto the floor in a fit of dismay and began crying. I think he wanted the full Mauve Colorstay Lipglide experience. I love him for that.
Depression, by definition, causes people to withdraw into themselves. Even the most outgoing of individuals will seem shut-off and unable to access the love and support around them. I'm essentially an extremely honest, blunt introvert by nature. Even under the best circumstances, I will feel awkward in a social setting and will do better talking to someone one rather than in a group. When I'm dealing with depression, writing on this blog is an act of will. It forces me to continually reevaluate where I am emotionally and what I want to share. There are many days when I just want to write, "AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH" then silence.
My friend in East Texas will think twice before inviting a toddler up to her apartment again. She's in graduate school in a rural town about 3 hours north of Houston. After an evening of whole milk and fabulous Tex-Mex food, Zac threw up all over her queen-size bed. I was able to control his spray to the back wall and her pillow. She handed me the last clean towel she owned (she owns three) and looked perplexed when I asked for clean sheets so I could change the bed for her. She told me that she only owned one set of sheets. I looked at her, in a 4am haze, and tried to remember my life before I had a child. I think even back then, it wouldn't have made sense to only have one set of sheets. That's even before I had a puke-o-matic lying next to me.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Monday, October 30, 2006
10/30-2
I always knew that I was special:
According to the website: How Many of There are Me there is no one else in America with my first and last name. There are 0 people with my first name (thanks Mom and Dad!) and 224,976 people that I share a last name with. I wish I knew about this website in college when a lot of drunk women kept asking me if a famous movie star was my Dad (he's not). Nor do I have any 1980's rockstars, guitar makers, or ceramic potters in the immediately family. So stop asking.
There is one other person that has the last name as me, that includes an extra "n" in her name. There are 16 people that were fortunate enough to spell my first name with an "i" instead of the non-vowel known as "y" that populates my first name.
Personally, though, I love the y in my name. I guess now I have definitive proof that that different is sometimes better.
According to the website: How Many of There are Me there is no one else in America with my first and last name. There are 0 people with my first name (thanks Mom and Dad!) and 224,976 people that I share a last name with. I wish I knew about this website in college when a lot of drunk women kept asking me if a famous movie star was my Dad (he's not). Nor do I have any 1980's rockstars, guitar makers, or ceramic potters in the immediately family. So stop asking.
There is one other person that has the last name as me, that includes an extra "n" in her name. There are 16 people that were fortunate enough to spell my first name with an "i" instead of the non-vowel known as "y" that populates my first name.
Personally, though, I love the y in my name. I guess now I have definitive proof that that different is sometimes better.
10/30
I was tagged by Caroline in the City, who asked for me to write about five truths in my life. The only problem with this assignment is that I have very few absolute "truths". The things that I think are constants tend to shift with time and my perspective on them. So, I'll write what is true at this moment and be content with that.
1) Zac was in a foul mood this morning because I couldn't play with him and get ready for work simultaneously. If I could have one superpower, it would be the ability to blow dry my hair/brush my teeth/ make oatmeal/ put together a bottle or do any other assortment of tasks while magically giving Zac what he needs to stop tantrums in their tracks at 7:15am. For those of you that suggest that I just walk away and let him find something to entertain himself, well, I've been trying. He's patient enough to throw a pretty decent tantrum. By the time I dropped him off at daycare, I was in a foul mood: angry at him, at myself for being angry with him, and frustrated in general.
2) I'm considered selfish by my family members. That knowledge affects my decisions and actions on a daily basis.
3) Diet Coke tastes better out of a bottle than it does out of a can. American Diet Coke even tastes better than the sickly sweet French version, "Coca Lite".
4) I left Peace Corps, on my own terms, after they threatened to investigate a potential medical fraud claim. I saw a therapist in college my senior year and didn't disclose that in my "Health Screening Questionnaire". I went three times to go and talk to a graduate student who really didn't help much, so I didn't really consider it "therapy" as much as "a waste of time". After keeping me in a hospital for seven days, I was told that my depression was a known condition that I had willingly try to hide from the U.S. Government. They said that if I left, they would not pursue the investigation and I could apply for a Workers' Compensation claim that would cover my medical expenses and treatment for depression. I left on November 9, 2003. I still dream in Mongolian and in my dreams I can see the village where I lived for over a year.
5) This time of year is always hard for me because of #4. I dated a man in Mongolia, another Peace Corps Volunteer. He called me this weekend and we laughed. He's coming to Dallas soon and I would like to drive up to see him. I haven't seen him since I left Peace Corps. He's married now and I have a child. We are still the same people, though. I guess not all that much really changes.
I now tag the IPJ (who would see that food CAN BE art if he checked out my new Flickr photos), My New Shoes (because I think she's great as well), Aunt Jen, Pamyllia, and Blakken
1) Zac was in a foul mood this morning because I couldn't play with him and get ready for work simultaneously. If I could have one superpower, it would be the ability to blow dry my hair/brush my teeth/ make oatmeal/ put together a bottle or do any other assortment of tasks while magically giving Zac what he needs to stop tantrums in their tracks at 7:15am. For those of you that suggest that I just walk away and let him find something to entertain himself, well, I've been trying. He's patient enough to throw a pretty decent tantrum. By the time I dropped him off at daycare, I was in a foul mood: angry at him, at myself for being angry with him, and frustrated in general.
2) I'm considered selfish by my family members. That knowledge affects my decisions and actions on a daily basis.
3) Diet Coke tastes better out of a bottle than it does out of a can. American Diet Coke even tastes better than the sickly sweet French version, "Coca Lite".
4) I left Peace Corps, on my own terms, after they threatened to investigate a potential medical fraud claim. I saw a therapist in college my senior year and didn't disclose that in my "Health Screening Questionnaire". I went three times to go and talk to a graduate student who really didn't help much, so I didn't really consider it "therapy" as much as "a waste of time". After keeping me in a hospital for seven days, I was told that my depression was a known condition that I had willingly try to hide from the U.S. Government. They said that if I left, they would not pursue the investigation and I could apply for a Workers' Compensation claim that would cover my medical expenses and treatment for depression. I left on November 9, 2003. I still dream in Mongolian and in my dreams I can see the village where I lived for over a year.
5) This time of year is always hard for me because of #4. I dated a man in Mongolia, another Peace Corps Volunteer. He called me this weekend and we laughed. He's coming to Dallas soon and I would like to drive up to see him. I haven't seen him since I left Peace Corps. He's married now and I have a child. We are still the same people, though. I guess not all that much really changes.
I now tag the IPJ (who would see that food CAN BE art if he checked out my new Flickr photos), My New Shoes (because I think she's great as well), Aunt Jen, Pamyllia, and Blakken
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
10/24
Every morning, I come into work, put my bag down, put my lunch and snacks in the refrigerator (yes, I am a six year-old who needs snacks throughout the day to stay reasonably sane), and turn on my computer. From there, I heat up my oatmeal and log-on. I go to my blog first (to see if I have any new comments. Did I mention that I'm obsessive about comments?) then I click on the links on my blogroll to catch up with the lives of other bloggers that I've come to know and depend on.
Without fail, I always check the bloggers that I know update every night. The Sarcastic Journalist, Officially a Mom, and Woulda Coulda Shoulda are perfect examples of that. They complete my morning with their regularity because the Good Lord knows that nothing else is regular about me or my blogging. After reading them for awhile and checking the blogs of my college friends: Wildflower, My New Shoes, Voluable Brat, Horn Dog, and Stone's Throw (and a couple of secret blogs thrown in for spice) to see if they've updated, I start to compose my own blog entry.
Some days, I've been thinking about something to say since the afternoon or night before. Just storing up, thinking about what I'm going to blog about.
Mornings like this, though, I've got nothing.
Sometimes I write only because I want to provide the same satisfaction that I get when I read other people's blog (even if they are only talking about writing on their blog). Later on in the day, when my isolation at work starts to get under my skin and I'm looking around for someone, anyone to talk to, I'll toy with the idea of posting again. Those posts would all sound something like, "HHHHEEEELLLLLPPP! I'm going insane! I want to throw my stupid computer across the room and curl up in a ball under my desk!" (At this point, you should be thankful that I resist mid-afternoon blogging).
So, that's all I've got this morning. Just wanted you all to know that I am thinking about you as you sit down in front of your computers with your coffee, Exotic Chai Tea, Diet Coke, water, or English muffin. Hope you are having a great day!
Without fail, I always check the bloggers that I know update every night. The Sarcastic Journalist, Officially a Mom, and Woulda Coulda Shoulda are perfect examples of that. They complete my morning with their regularity because the Good Lord knows that nothing else is regular about me or my blogging. After reading them for awhile and checking the blogs of my college friends: Wildflower, My New Shoes, Voluable Brat, Horn Dog, and Stone's Throw (and a couple of secret blogs thrown in for spice) to see if they've updated, I start to compose my own blog entry.
Some days, I've been thinking about something to say since the afternoon or night before. Just storing up, thinking about what I'm going to blog about.
Mornings like this, though, I've got nothing.
Sometimes I write only because I want to provide the same satisfaction that I get when I read other people's blog (even if they are only talking about writing on their blog). Later on in the day, when my isolation at work starts to get under my skin and I'm looking around for someone, anyone to talk to, I'll toy with the idea of posting again. Those posts would all sound something like, "HHHHEEEELLLLLPPP! I'm going insane! I want to throw my stupid computer across the room and curl up in a ball under my desk!" (At this point, you should be thankful that I resist mid-afternoon blogging).
So, that's all I've got this morning. Just wanted you all to know that I am thinking about you as you sit down in front of your computers with your coffee, Exotic Chai Tea, Diet Coke, water, or English muffin. Hope you are having a great day!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
10/17
I'm going to take a couple of days to step back and re-evaluate parts of my life that I'm sharing on the internet and the ramifications from that.
I had two phone calls and an e-mail from someone that could potential hurt Zac or I and I can't let that happen. Protecting my family is of utmost importance. A case worker at HPD has been notified. That's the good thing about working where I work with the people that I work with.
I'll be back on in a couple of days. Your thoughts and support would be appreciated.
I had two phone calls and an e-mail from someone that could potential hurt Zac or I and I can't let that happen. Protecting my family is of utmost importance. A case worker at HPD has been notified. That's the good thing about working where I work with the people that I work with.
I'll be back on in a couple of days. Your thoughts and support would be appreciated.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
9/19
For Jenna, an update:
Major problems with my work computer. The desktop kept shutting off at random and my lap top that I brought from home couldn't connect to the wifi.
I'm having dental problems and a mouth full of pain right now. I'm headed to the dentist this afternoon.
Turmoil and drama in my romantic life. It causes me to cease blogging, especially when I know who's reading.
Zac is good. He took two steps on his own this weekend (WHEN I WASN'T AROUND!!) in between my Mom and Dad. They are the first official steps on record and, again, I DIDN'T SEE THEM!!! After carrying his growing body for 9 months inside my body and 14 months outside my body, I don't think I'm being unreasonable for getting a little fired up about the whole thing.
Major problems with my work computer. The desktop kept shutting off at random and my lap top that I brought from home couldn't connect to the wifi.
I'm having dental problems and a mouth full of pain right now. I'm headed to the dentist this afternoon.
Turmoil and drama in my romantic life. It causes me to cease blogging, especially when I know who's reading.
Zac is good. He took two steps on his own this weekend (WHEN I WASN'T AROUND!!) in between my Mom and Dad. They are the first official steps on record and, again, I DIDN'T SEE THEM!!! After carrying his growing body for 9 months inside my body and 14 months outside my body, I don't think I'm being unreasonable for getting a little fired up about the whole thing.
Friday, August 25, 2006
8/25
I NEED HELP!
You know - I give, and give, and give until I can't give anymore. It is time for you, oh readers of the blog, to help me. Basically, I've been feeling really isolated since moving to my new job. It's not to say that I don't love my new job (because I do, so far, at least). I just like the idea of change much more than I actually like to experience it.
One of the most annoying parts of my old job was that my boss would come running in and out of my office, to get his documents from the communal printer. The printer was located behind me and my boss would take his papers, put his hand on the back of my chair, and stare into my computer, just to see what I was doing. Sometimes, if I was really into something, I wouldn't even hear him come in until he was standing beside me. It was awful and I total invasion of any and all personal space.
Yet, I find myself missing him and the constant hum of the printer. I miss all of my coworkers flitting around the office, sticking their head into my cubicle to ask if I had seen X file or Y grant. I haven't even seen my boss today. I've heard her down the hall, I think. I can't be sure though. I would have to actually stand up to go and investigate and that would involve moving the blanket from my lap. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment this early in the morning.
I was trying to build a relationship with J., which meant that I stopped talking to some of the other people from the internet that I was talking/flirting/laughing with almost every day. My friends from college are busy and I have this one year-old (maybe you've heard about him?) that takes up most of my evening, so it's hard for me to find time to call.
It's my fault. I know, I know.
Here is where you come in. I have this Yahoo toolbar that stares back at me from my computer. The mail icon just sits there, like a bastard, waiting for me to cave in and click it, only to find out that I don't have any messages.
I'm asking anyone who has ever read a post on this blog to give back. To break my cone of silence and isolation. I don't care if you have ever commented before or not. I don't care if you hate me and wish that I would stop talking about my kid so much. Cool. Tell me about it. Tell me a funny story. Tell me about your kids. Tell me that about the last lie you told someone. Tell me about the last time you wanted to cry, but couldn't because you feel so numb.
Write me!
notsopregnantintexas@yahoo.com
Please.
You know - I give, and give, and give until I can't give anymore. It is time for you, oh readers of the blog, to help me. Basically, I've been feeling really isolated since moving to my new job. It's not to say that I don't love my new job (because I do, so far, at least). I just like the idea of change much more than I actually like to experience it.
One of the most annoying parts of my old job was that my boss would come running in and out of my office, to get his documents from the communal printer. The printer was located behind me and my boss would take his papers, put his hand on the back of my chair, and stare into my computer, just to see what I was doing. Sometimes, if I was really into something, I wouldn't even hear him come in until he was standing beside me. It was awful and I total invasion of any and all personal space.
Yet, I find myself missing him and the constant hum of the printer. I miss all of my coworkers flitting around the office, sticking their head into my cubicle to ask if I had seen X file or Y grant. I haven't even seen my boss today. I've heard her down the hall, I think. I can't be sure though. I would have to actually stand up to go and investigate and that would involve moving the blanket from my lap. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment this early in the morning.
I was trying to build a relationship with J., which meant that I stopped talking to some of the other people from the internet that I was talking/flirting/laughing with almost every day. My friends from college are busy and I have this one year-old (maybe you've heard about him?) that takes up most of my evening, so it's hard for me to find time to call.
It's my fault. I know, I know.
Here is where you come in. I have this Yahoo toolbar that stares back at me from my computer. The mail icon just sits there, like a bastard, waiting for me to cave in and click it, only to find out that I don't have any messages.
I'm asking anyone who has ever read a post on this blog to give back. To break my cone of silence and isolation. I don't care if you have ever commented before or not. I don't care if you hate me and wish that I would stop talking about my kid so much. Cool. Tell me about it. Tell me a funny story. Tell me about your kids. Tell me that about the last lie you told someone. Tell me about the last time you wanted to cry, but couldn't because you feel so numb.
Write me!
notsopregnantintexas@yahoo.com
Please.
Monday, July 10, 2006
7/10
You know I got in trouble for this photo, don't you? Thank God it was before the days of digital cameras when my petulance would have been immediately noticed. No, I got an eye roll and a huge sigh when the photograph was developed.
That is my Grandma G. on the left, then me, my Mom, and my sister. I'm not really sure why we appear to be standing on the side of a freeway, all I can tell you is that we were in Canada, at the 1988 EXPO, and something had made me very, very mad.
I think this expression has been on my face for most, if not all, of the past weekend. Zac and I finally made it back to Houston after an exhausting four days. He didn't understand why he was castigated to a corner of the hotel room with an uncomfortable crib. I didn't understand why he needed to cry for 45 minutes everytime I tried to put him down for a nap or bedtime. He decided to try out his new standing skills by standing up in his crib, rattling the metal bars, and screaming as loud as his one year-old body could manage. It was an impressive sight to say the least.
The funeral itself was a small service at my Grandma's church, about an hour east of Pittsburgh. Not much has changed in that town since my Dad grew up there. My uncle has never lived more than five miles away from the hospital where he was born. My aunt made the move to Pittsburgh, but traveled frequently back to the town to see my Grandma with her husband and two children. Somehow the young, female pastor managed to say, "in the green Lutheran Book of Worship" at least ten times during the service, as if we needed to be reminded of the color or name of the book we were holding and following along in.
The most touching part of the week came when we watched an amazing video of my Grandma performing a flapper dance routine for a Mom-Daughter tea at her Lutheran Church. It was one of those videos where I expected her to speak directly into the camera at the beginning and announce, "If you are watching this, then I have passed from this Earth onto a better place because there is no way in Hell that you should be watching this if I'm still alive". Oh, it was so good to see her in her youth (at 70!), kicking, dancing, lip-synching, and playing to the crowd.
That is what I will remember about her. Well, that and the really good chocolate-covered peanut butter balls that she always sent us at Christmas.
Monday, July 03, 2006
7/03
When I first found out that I was pregnant, sitting in a Planned Parenthood examining room in early fall 2005, my whole body started vibrating and all I heard was a loud humming sound in my ears. It was like in the movies when the main character stops hearing what the person sitting across from them is saying, but they can see their mouth moving and forming words.
As the weeks and then months went by, I started feeling the changes in my body progress. A deeper, primal sense of understanding began to dawn on me. If I had to put it into words, it might sound something like: "Women throughout history have gone through these same changes, felt what you are feeling, and have been just as excited and scared as you are." I imagined women in Elizabethian robes, pregnant and round, wondering what their little ones would look like. I tried to imagine women in the time before we started wearing clothes and using fire to cook, fiercely protecting her swollen belly from predators.
My experience connected me to the line of women going back beyond any timeframe that I could even contemplate.
I imagined my mother, pregnant with me.
I imagined her mother.
And the mother before that and then, again, before that.
All of us connected through our bodies that produced the spirits and minds of those that would come after us. Early in the morning on July 8th, before the doctor decided to retrieve Zac through the road less traveled under my belly button, I suddenly understood how women could die in childbirth. My body was in pain, even with an epidural. I was afraid and tired. Zac couldn't descend into my birth canal. For all practical purposes, he was stuck, as was I. Before the practice of medicine, before Ob-Gyns, C-sections, and intensive care units, both he and I might have died that morning.
We didn't. We continue on.
The memory of Zac's birth and my part in the continuation of the generations is what I keep thinking about as I try to understand and grapple with the death of my Grandma.
My Dad's Mom, Freida, died early this morning. Although no one has told me what from exactly, I know that she refused to go to the hospital for pneumonia late last week. She slipped into a coma this weekend and passed away surrounded by most of her family. My Dad and Mom flew separately to be with my Dad's family today and Zac and I will be going on Wednesday for the funeral.
Every kid should be so lucky to have someone like my Grandma G. We talked once a week to her on the phone, even though as kids my sister and I never, ever had anything to say. She baked us our favorite cookies, breads, and chocolate during the holidays and marked every occasion with a card and a $5 or $10 bill. I saw her infrequently growing up - our family didn't have a lot of money and her health rapidly declined in my junior high and high school years. She lost some of her mobility, but I swear that woman never lost her fight. She would say that she wasn't too old to give us (usually my Dad) a good whippin' if we (or he) mouthed off to her. When you asked her how she was feeling, even in the nursing home she hated, she would answer: "Still kicking. It's better than the alternative." She could beat the pants off of a whole room full of seniors at Bingo, laughing while she told you the story and how lucky she was.
Last week I got a birthday card for Zac from Grandma G., written in my Uncle's handwriting. He had even included a $5 bill and as soon as I opened it, I started to cry. That she would be facing so much, yet still remember her "little man and her dolly" was too much for me.
I'm going to miss her and the little reminders that she loved us all so well.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
6/29
Now, I don't know who wrote this comment (the anonymous part leaves it up to my imagination), but I'm guessing it is someone that doesn't regularly experience fear and humiliation while walking down the street.
My anonymous commenter said:
"Not to inflame the comments here, but in terms of judging a group of men hanging out as a potentially great enough risk to force women to stay indoors, I agree with the email. I know there are lots of reasons that make it smart to err on the side of caution, but one must be careful that caution doesn't turn into unreasonable fear because, as yoda points out, that leads to some bad places ;) just food for thought - the rest of that email was out of line. "
Yes, Do's e-mail was out of line. Thank you for recognizing that. Here is my reply to your other point, which is something that I didn't touch on in yesterday's post. It's interesting to me that both Do. and some of the people that read his e-mail yesterday assumed that the group of men I was referring to had "just gotten home from work" or were " just hanging out relaxing". I happened to know that a number of men in and around my apartment complex are unemployed. I know this because my next door neighbor asked me to get him an application for where I work. This is the same man that came over to kill a half-dead, enormous cockroach from my kitchen floor because it was making me so squemish that I couldn't even go into same room with the bug. He is a great guy. He always asks about Zac and I truly believe that he would defend me or change my tire if I needed him to.
Why the hell, though, would I assume everyone in the world (or even north Houston) was like that? What confidence do I have in machismo to trust that a group of men, or even a solitary man, won't emotionally or physically harm me? I don't. It doesn't keep me indoors. It keeps me safe. Big difference.
This is the kicker, the part that some of the men reading this site clearly don't realize: fear is a subjective emotion, which means that there is no logic behind it. I become afraid when a man grabs his crotch and yells nasty shit to me on the street the same way that I become afraid when I walk down a dark street at night or pass a group of "harmless" men. There is no reason to it, other than I FEEL unsafe. On a daily basis I am physically intimidated and objectified by strangers for no other reason than my biological sex and stature.
Here is the other part, the reason that I choose not to run at night: If something were to happen to me, who would take care of Zac? If I were beaten and raped, how long do you think it would take me before I recovered enough to be the best mother I can be to my young son? Where would that leave Zac in the meantime? I can't put my safety in jeopardy for an ideal that 'it should be safe for a woman to do this'. I just can't.
My anonymous commenter said:
"Not to inflame the comments here, but in terms of judging a group of men hanging out as a potentially great enough risk to force women to stay indoors, I agree with the email. I know there are lots of reasons that make it smart to err on the side of caution, but one must be careful that caution doesn't turn into unreasonable fear because, as yoda points out, that leads to some bad places ;) just food for thought - the rest of that email was out of line. "
Yes, Do's e-mail was out of line. Thank you for recognizing that. Here is my reply to your other point, which is something that I didn't touch on in yesterday's post. It's interesting to me that both Do. and some of the people that read his e-mail yesterday assumed that the group of men I was referring to had "just gotten home from work" or were " just hanging out relaxing". I happened to know that a number of men in and around my apartment complex are unemployed. I know this because my next door neighbor asked me to get him an application for where I work. This is the same man that came over to kill a half-dead, enormous cockroach from my kitchen floor because it was making me so squemish that I couldn't even go into same room with the bug. He is a great guy. He always asks about Zac and I truly believe that he would defend me or change my tire if I needed him to.
Why the hell, though, would I assume everyone in the world (or even north Houston) was like that? What confidence do I have in machismo to trust that a group of men, or even a solitary man, won't emotionally or physically harm me? I don't. It doesn't keep me indoors. It keeps me safe. Big difference.
This is the kicker, the part that some of the men reading this site clearly don't realize: fear is a subjective emotion, which means that there is no logic behind it. I become afraid when a man grabs his crotch and yells nasty shit to me on the street the same way that I become afraid when I walk down a dark street at night or pass a group of "harmless" men. There is no reason to it, other than I FEEL unsafe. On a daily basis I am physically intimidated and objectified by strangers for no other reason than my biological sex and stature.
Here is the other part, the reason that I choose not to run at night: If something were to happen to me, who would take care of Zac? If I were beaten and raped, how long do you think it would take me before I recovered enough to be the best mother I can be to my young son? Where would that leave Zac in the meantime? I can't put my safety in jeopardy for an ideal that 'it should be safe for a woman to do this'. I just can't.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
6/15
It could be a bad sign that I had to check what today's date was. I'm having one of those days that never end: "This is the day that never ends, oh yes it goes on and on my friends. Some people, woke up this morning, not knowing what it was, and now it keeps on going forever just because. This is the day that never ends...."
Brief Updates:
Second interview was just with the President of the Board. I think it went well and I should hear next week one way or the other.
My current job evaluation went fine. They rank us on a scale of 1-4, and then tell us that we can never get a 4 overall. Pretty funny if you think about it. Why even have a scale at all if you can never reach the highest point? I got a 3 on most things and a couple of 4s. The only areas I got 2s in were "interpersonal relationships". Basically, I need to play nicer with others and not instill in them enough rage to cuss me out in front of other coworkers and get fired. Oh, I also need to stop "stealing" unmarked chicken from the refrigerator and causing my cubicle mate to stop speaking to me for three days. My boss suggested that I attend a couple seminars next year to learn how to "interact with coworkers more productively." Check.
Still trying to figure out why corn doesn't digest in a person's stomach. Why does it come out whole on the other end and why do I continue to eat it (especially with macaroni and cheese), if I always have this reaction to it?
P. is coming over for dinner tonight. He offered to buy groceries this time, but still left me with the decision on what to make. I'm pretty sure he might end up eating stale Cheerios with milk and Splenda. That's what you get for making me cook after a long day, especially when you can't come over until 7:30pm.
Z. is doing well. He *FINALLY* has one tooth that has broken the gumline on the bottom. It looks like he is working on a couple more, if his exploration of his mouth with his entire hand and thumb is any indication.
Brief Updates:
Second interview was just with the President of the Board. I think it went well and I should hear next week one way or the other.
My current job evaluation went fine. They rank us on a scale of 1-4, and then tell us that we can never get a 4 overall. Pretty funny if you think about it. Why even have a scale at all if you can never reach the highest point? I got a 3 on most things and a couple of 4s. The only areas I got 2s in were "interpersonal relationships". Basically, I need to play nicer with others and not instill in them enough rage to cuss me out in front of other coworkers and get fired. Oh, I also need to stop "stealing" unmarked chicken from the refrigerator and causing my cubicle mate to stop speaking to me for three days. My boss suggested that I attend a couple seminars next year to learn how to "interact with coworkers more productively." Check.
Still trying to figure out why corn doesn't digest in a person's stomach. Why does it come out whole on the other end and why do I continue to eat it (especially with macaroni and cheese), if I always have this reaction to it?
P. is coming over for dinner tonight. He offered to buy groceries this time, but still left me with the decision on what to make. I'm pretty sure he might end up eating stale Cheerios with milk and Splenda. That's what you get for making me cook after a long day, especially when you can't come over until 7:30pm.
Z. is doing well. He *FINALLY* has one tooth that has broken the gumline on the bottom. It looks like he is working on a couple more, if his exploration of his mouth with his entire hand and thumb is any indication.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
5/31
The good news:
I got a flat tire yesterday (one of the downsides of living/working/commuting in a rough neighborhood - screws and nails all over the freakin' place). I fortunately managed to make it to work when my coworker called me to say that I had a flat tire in the parking lot, I quickly called roadside assistance....in the rain. "Roadside assistance" came (read: one man, two kids in a hatchback Volvo) and changed my tire. I went to Discount Tires where they (and this is the part that kills me) FIXED MY TIRE FOR FREE! Yes, I had to wait an hour and embarassed myself horribly during that time (I asked the guy working the counter if he had, "gotten someone pregnant", when he mentioned that he hopes he has a boy. I realized as he sputtered, "Yes, my wife is pregnant" that I should have asked the more genteel question: "Are you expecting?". My bad. I guess getting knocked up does have lasting consequences on my social graces), but they fixed it. That's all that matters.
The bad news:
Still managed to overdraft my checking account because (ha!) Washington Mutual put a hold on my check that I deposited and (ha!) wouldn't credit my account (ha...ha....ha...). That's manical laughing your reading there....as in, "I can't win and maybe I'm going to stop trying". When I called WaMu to ask about what had happend they told me and then informed that I was qualified for the triple platinum Master Card that could help solve all of my financial issues. Right.
The ugly news:
Stress has caused my entire face to breakout. The last time I looked this bad, I was in Mongolia and didn't have access to hot water. Speaking of the 'golia, I got a beautiful package from my friend that included a jacket for me and a(nother) vest for Zac. Pictures will be forthcoming shortly. I have the best non-Central Asian-dressed baby this side of the Pacific!
I got a flat tire yesterday (one of the downsides of living/working/commuting in a rough neighborhood - screws and nails all over the freakin' place). I fortunately managed to make it to work when my coworker called me to say that I had a flat tire in the parking lot, I quickly called roadside assistance....in the rain. "Roadside assistance" came (read: one man, two kids in a hatchback Volvo) and changed my tire. I went to Discount Tires where they (and this is the part that kills me) FIXED MY TIRE FOR FREE! Yes, I had to wait an hour and embarassed myself horribly during that time (I asked the guy working the counter if he had, "gotten someone pregnant", when he mentioned that he hopes he has a boy. I realized as he sputtered, "Yes, my wife is pregnant" that I should have asked the more genteel question: "Are you expecting?". My bad. I guess getting knocked up does have lasting consequences on my social graces), but they fixed it. That's all that matters.
The bad news:
Still managed to overdraft my checking account because (ha!) Washington Mutual put a hold on my check that I deposited and (ha!) wouldn't credit my account (ha...ha....ha...). That's manical laughing your reading there....as in, "I can't win and maybe I'm going to stop trying". When I called WaMu to ask about what had happend they told me and then informed that I was qualified for the triple platinum Master Card that could help solve all of my financial issues. Right.
The ugly news:
Stress has caused my entire face to breakout. The last time I looked this bad, I was in Mongolia and didn't have access to hot water. Speaking of the 'golia, I got a beautiful package from my friend that included a jacket for me and a(nother) vest for Zac. Pictures will be forthcoming shortly. I have the best non-Central Asian-dressed baby this side of the Pacific!
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
5/09
I would like to start using phrases like: "You are the first person in the history of the world to...." more often. Or even better yet: "I am the first person in the history of the world to....". That phrase is sticking with me today, as I'm feeling melodramatic and sorry for myself. Wildflower told me that I was the first person in the history of the world to comment on her blog. I still smile to myself when I think about that. What a great feeling....the first in the world.
Here are my firsts today, which of course aren't really firsts. I'm hoping that as I write them, I will realize how mundane everything truly is, as all experiences are shared equally among sensitive creatures (especially insecure ones)
I am the first woman in the world to feel that I'll never find someone who will love both Zac and I.
I am the first woman in the world to question trying to date as a single Mom.
I am the first person in the world who gets excited by the thought of starting a new craft project after seeing an overpriced piece of art work on the CB2 website.
I am the first person in the world who actually knows what CB2 is and is excited.
I am the first woman in the world to look down at her flabby, distended stomach and rolls of skin and wonder if bringing life into the world actually ended my social life.
I am the first woman in the world to cry when I think about starting this next chapter of my life, alone, again.
Here are my firsts today, which of course aren't really firsts. I'm hoping that as I write them, I will realize how mundane everything truly is, as all experiences are shared equally among sensitive creatures (especially insecure ones)
I am the first woman in the world to feel that I'll never find someone who will love both Zac and I.
I am the first woman in the world to question trying to date as a single Mom.
I am the first person in the world who gets excited by the thought of starting a new craft project after seeing an overpriced piece of art work on the CB2 website.
I am the first person in the world who actually knows what CB2 is and is excited.
I am the first woman in the world to look down at her flabby, distended stomach and rolls of skin and wonder if bringing life into the world actually ended my social life.
I am the first woman in the world to cry when I think about starting this next chapter of my life, alone, again.
Monday, May 01, 2006
5/01
What a freakin' week this has been! Z got his ear tubes last Monday and things seem to be going well. The little ear plugs that they gave us when he left the hospital will only stay in his ears for .05 seconds before he rubs them and they pop out. He seems to be a bit cranky now a days, however, and I'm not sure if that is caused by his silly Mom getting water in his ears or the teeth that never seem to want to come in. Either way, there is quite a bit of ear rubbing, thumb biting in the Not-so-Pregnant abode, and not all of it is done by the Z man. In other baby news, Zac took off his pants last night (he was wearing a new two-piece pajamas set) and once again pooped in his sleep. The whole, pooping in the sleep thing normally doesn't bother me, but it was upsetting that he had done it sans-pants. The next step is a whole fist full of poop smeared all of the crib. I can see it coming.
I think I'm starting to adjust to life in the apartment. Last week, after a major rainstorm, I walked down into the kitchen and realized that it was raining indoors, through the kitchen light fixture and onto the ground. Turns out that the rain actually didn't cause the problem at all, but that a toilet had exploded in the upstairs bathroom (it's a two-story townhouse/apartment) and leaked through the floor and down to the kitchen. Good times, I tell you. I called maintenance and left the house, thankful that I didn't actually own the stinkin' place. By the time that I had come back from work, they had repaired the toilet and replaced the stained light fixture. Whether or not I will one day I will be cleaning said toilet and fall through the floor, landing on the kitchen linoleum remains to be seen.
S. and I are still hanging out. We had a long talk on Friday night about everything and he asked me not too worry so much. Me....not worrying so much! I'm a born worrier. Everytime I've felt confident about love or friendship, it has spelled the end of that relationship. I guess the best part about me maturing a bit more is that I don't feel compelled to air my insecurities to him or constantly have him reassure me about everything. I realize that I'm dealing with my own issues and I, instead, rely on my support system when I start to have a panic attack. I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to the aforementioned support system for crazy phone calls that you have gotten and will continue to get in the future.
I think I'm starting to adjust to life in the apartment. Last week, after a major rainstorm, I walked down into the kitchen and realized that it was raining indoors, through the kitchen light fixture and onto the ground. Turns out that the rain actually didn't cause the problem at all, but that a toilet had exploded in the upstairs bathroom (it's a two-story townhouse/apartment) and leaked through the floor and down to the kitchen. Good times, I tell you. I called maintenance and left the house, thankful that I didn't actually own the stinkin' place. By the time that I had come back from work, they had repaired the toilet and replaced the stained light fixture. Whether or not I will one day I will be cleaning said toilet and fall through the floor, landing on the kitchen linoleum remains to be seen.
S. and I are still hanging out. We had a long talk on Friday night about everything and he asked me not too worry so much. Me....not worrying so much! I'm a born worrier. Everytime I've felt confident about love or friendship, it has spelled the end of that relationship. I guess the best part about me maturing a bit more is that I don't feel compelled to air my insecurities to him or constantly have him reassure me about everything. I realize that I'm dealing with my own issues and I, instead, rely on my support system when I start to have a panic attack. I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to the aforementioned support system for crazy phone calls that you have gotten and will continue to get in the future.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
4/04
So, lately when I've talked to my friends on the phone or over e-mail, I've been getting, "Oh my God! Really!! You didn't even mention that on your blog," which makes me wonder if I should stop communicating with all my friends, or stop writing on the blog.
Clearly, the blog posts are slowing down as Zac is speeding up. He is scooting across the floor on his elbows, dragging his legs behind him. If I had to gauge his speed, I would say it was somewhere between a three-legged dog and turtle, until he sees cat food. My child loves nothing more than putting his whole hand in cat food and scooping up five or six pieces to thrust in his open mouth. I know when he's trying to sneak over to the cat food bowl when he suddenly goes quiet. He's going after cat litter when he shrieks with joy. Lately I've been contemplating fencing him in in the middle of the living room so I can make dinner without wondering which orafice he's going to try to put something.
The big news is that I moved all of the major pieces of furniture this weekend into my new apartment in north H-town. I signed the lease and put down the deposit back in March and somewhere along the way, I neglected to post on here that I was preparing for the big move out on my own. S. and two of his friends, all with pick-up trucks, came over on Saturday to help me move my furniture. Is it odd that not only S., but his two closest friends would have pick-up trucks? I guess it's only odd in places other than Texas.
After four very hot hours, we finished the move and went out to sit in air conditioning and drink beer. I should be more grateful that these large men, who I barely know, came over to help me dissemble my son's crib and carry a very heavy, old dresser.
Things with S. are going....well, they're going. I would say good, except that we had a long conversation last night about "our relationship". I would normally rather chew nails than talk about "our relationship", but a few of the more aggressive people in his life had really been getting under my skin lately: primarily hordes of needy women. Literally, his phone rings off the hook. If he doesn't answer his cell, they'll call his house phone and keep calling until he picks it up. If someone did that to me, I'd answer the phone with a growl and an expletive, if I even answered the phone at all. He doesn't seem to see a problem with this behavior, nor does he seem to see a problem that he and his ex are taking a "break" from friendship (they broke up six months ago).
I'm afraid to care about him. Afraid to get involved with someone that has emotionally shady people in their life and, although I'm inherently trusting, I'm afraid to trust someone. Will I ever fully trust someone again? I feel like the FOB broke me.
P.S. - The lack of comments have really hurt lately. I didn't want people to stop commenting, just to respect that I didn't want my name up here. I LIKE hearing from those who read this piece of myself.
Clearly, the blog posts are slowing down as Zac is speeding up. He is scooting across the floor on his elbows, dragging his legs behind him. If I had to gauge his speed, I would say it was somewhere between a three-legged dog and turtle, until he sees cat food. My child loves nothing more than putting his whole hand in cat food and scooping up five or six pieces to thrust in his open mouth. I know when he's trying to sneak over to the cat food bowl when he suddenly goes quiet. He's going after cat litter when he shrieks with joy. Lately I've been contemplating fencing him in in the middle of the living room so I can make dinner without wondering which orafice he's going to try to put something.
The big news is that I moved all of the major pieces of furniture this weekend into my new apartment in north H-town. I signed the lease and put down the deposit back in March and somewhere along the way, I neglected to post on here that I was preparing for the big move out on my own. S. and two of his friends, all with pick-up trucks, came over on Saturday to help me move my furniture. Is it odd that not only S., but his two closest friends would have pick-up trucks? I guess it's only odd in places other than Texas.
After four very hot hours, we finished the move and went out to sit in air conditioning and drink beer. I should be more grateful that these large men, who I barely know, came over to help me dissemble my son's crib and carry a very heavy, old dresser.
Things with S. are going....well, they're going. I would say good, except that we had a long conversation last night about "our relationship". I would normally rather chew nails than talk about "our relationship", but a few of the more aggressive people in his life had really been getting under my skin lately: primarily hordes of needy women. Literally, his phone rings off the hook. If he doesn't answer his cell, they'll call his house phone and keep calling until he picks it up. If someone did that to me, I'd answer the phone with a growl and an expletive, if I even answered the phone at all. He doesn't seem to see a problem with this behavior, nor does he seem to see a problem that he and his ex are taking a "break" from friendship (they broke up six months ago).
I'm afraid to care about him. Afraid to get involved with someone that has emotionally shady people in their life and, although I'm inherently trusting, I'm afraid to trust someone. Will I ever fully trust someone again? I feel like the FOB broke me.
P.S. - The lack of comments have really hurt lately. I didn't want people to stop commenting, just to respect that I didn't want my name up here. I LIKE hearing from those who read this piece of myself.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
2/23
It's not that I don't want to write in my blog....it's that I'm finding a hard time carving out a chunk of time to write that doesn't involve strategically moving my computer screen so my boss can't see it or juggling a baby that thinks pulling my hair out from the root and putting his ENTIRE mouth on the side of the head is the funnest thing EVER.
It was so much easier when I closed my office door twice a day and twenty minutes of private time. My ability to pump and type only made it that much sweeter for me (and tended to lead to more interesting blog entries). Now, I'm stuck.
Let me do a quick update, Aunt Jen style:
1) Zac is finally better. He lost 10 oz from the whole illness, but no hearing loss. I, however, am thrilled that I'm no longer being vomitted on.
2) Trainer said that he wasn't interested in me. I said that I had invited him to Mardi Gras (in Galveston, TX - I didn't end up going) as a friend, not as a date. He said that maybe we could be friends, then. I told him that we shouldn't push it.
3) Went out on a casual date last night. The guy was such a shmuck that mid-way through a story that he was telling to me and his brother, he stops to stare at a woman walking by. He turns to his brother and says, "Oh, yeah. I'll be seeing her this Saturday," and then they high-five. By the time that he turns back to me, he's forgotten where he was in the story and I have to remind him to finish. I cut my losses half way through the night and started talking to a woman that goes to a church that I'm interested in checking out.
4) Spending most of my time thinking or researching apartments for Zac and I. I've given up my dream of home ownership after finding out that to qualify for down payment assistance you have to agree to live in the house for five years. Five years sounds like a prison sentence to me. So scared and excited about independence that my stomach gets upset whenever I think about it, which I do quite a lot.
It was so much easier when I closed my office door twice a day and twenty minutes of private time. My ability to pump and type only made it that much sweeter for me (and tended to lead to more interesting blog entries). Now, I'm stuck.
Let me do a quick update, Aunt Jen style:
1) Zac is finally better. He lost 10 oz from the whole illness, but no hearing loss. I, however, am thrilled that I'm no longer being vomitted on.
2) Trainer said that he wasn't interested in me. I said that I had invited him to Mardi Gras (in Galveston, TX - I didn't end up going) as a friend, not as a date. He said that maybe we could be friends, then. I told him that we shouldn't push it.
3) Went out on a casual date last night. The guy was such a shmuck that mid-way through a story that he was telling to me and his brother, he stops to stare at a woman walking by. He turns to his brother and says, "Oh, yeah. I'll be seeing her this Saturday," and then they high-five. By the time that he turns back to me, he's forgotten where he was in the story and I have to remind him to finish. I cut my losses half way through the night and started talking to a woman that goes to a church that I'm interested in checking out.
4) Spending most of my time thinking or researching apartments for Zac and I. I've given up my dream of home ownership after finding out that to qualify for down payment assistance you have to agree to live in the house for five years. Five years sounds like a prison sentence to me. So scared and excited about independence that my stomach gets upset whenever I think about it, which I do quite a lot.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
12/21
A joke from Grandpa:
For My Politically Correct Friends (READ: Everyone I know and love!):
"Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, transgender celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. We also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. And without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee. By accepting these greetings you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for herself or himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher."
For My Other Friends:
Here's wishing all of you Happy Holidays!
Zac and Grandpa came to my work today on their way to the airport to pick up Great Grandma. Last time G-ma saw Z he was three weeks old and I was barely walking upright. I'm looking forward to seeing her and possibly taking some more naps! Oh yeah!! NAPS - that is what I want for Christmas, just a nice, long rest.
For My Politically Correct Friends (READ: Everyone I know and love!):
"Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, transgender celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. We also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. And without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee. By accepting these greetings you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for herself or himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher."
For My Other Friends:
Here's wishing all of you Happy Holidays!
Zac and Grandpa came to my work today on their way to the airport to pick up Great Grandma. Last time G-ma saw Z he was three weeks old and I was barely walking upright. I'm looking forward to seeing her and possibly taking some more naps! Oh yeah!! NAPS - that is what I want for Christmas, just a nice, long rest.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
10-30
The World Series are finally over, but here is a look at Zac and I, dressed and ready for a party. His Grandpa got him that "Take me out to the ballgame" outfit when he went to see the Astros play with Aunt Jen.
The party we were going to was at my Mom's friend's house from work, for a Hurricane Katrina survivor. The hurricane survivor was the aunt of someone my Mom works with. She is 85 years old and was moved from the Superdome to the Astrodome and then lost for a couple of days. My Mom's company took up a collection for her, donating clothes, food, and money: giving the words "hurricane survivor" a face and name. The party was in her honor.
Can't say that I'm that sad about the Astros, however. At least new episodes of "House" and "Lost" will air this week. Good God! I have an extremely pathetic life...
More pictures of Zac's first Halloween to come.
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