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Though we got rid of our old tv back in August 2009, we got a new one only a few weeks ago. And when I say "we," what I mean is that I, personally, had nothing to do with it.
Similarly, I still haven't managed to come up with a persuasive rationalization to replace my wildly outdated cell phone or to get a new camera to replace the one I broke before Ruby was born.
Anyone have a way of convincing myself that it's absolutely necessary that I acquire a smart phone? As in (fill in the blank): Niobe needs to shell out a hefty monthly fee for an expensive new toy even though she seldom remembers to charge her current phone because ______.
On the camera front, I've been fairly happily making do with a teeny tiny Canon Ixus 100IS.
The other day, I was using the macro feature to take photos of various things on my desk (make up, plastic snakes, mini dinosaurs, toy cars), when I noticed something that most of us living in this all-too-unfair world could probably use. See close-up below.
In case you can't make out the label, it reads: FAIR: to use: apply as needed
As, you know, if.
I dropped Ruby off, managed to squeeze a little erythromycin between Cole's goop-encrusted lids and told Gray (who's home for a few days) that, since I was taking the day off, we could do whatever he wanted.
I think we can safely say that Gray is just about the only 18-year-old who would, unprompted, suggest that we reorganize the kitchen cabinets.
But he did and we did, moving boxes, jars and cans to the counter, tossing the stuff that had expired back in 1998, wiping down and repainting the shelves and putting everything back in a new, much more esthetically pleasing arrangement. Including, yes, alphabetized spices.
So you don't get the wrong idea, neither of us is particularly into cleaning and Gray's own room is usually almost as much of a wreck as my closet.
But the beautifully organized cabinets? They make me almost as happy as a clam at high tide. Which is about the best any of us can hope for.
eta: if you want to see far too many iterations of the photo above (plus a t.rex v. vw battle to the death!) check out my flickr photostream.
This morning, I put Cole in his room, in his crib. I handed him his favorite musical pink seahorse, which (among other things) plays a charming, if somewhat aquatic-sounding, rendition of Ode to Joy. I said, "Mama will be back soon" and I carefully shut the door.
I finished my shower about 15 minutes later. Cole had a brand-new bruise on his forehead and a rapidly-swelling bump under one eye. He had a truck under one arm and a dirty sock in his mouth. He spit the sock out, told me "bye bye," and, when that failed to get the desired response, tried "night night."
He wasn't in his crib. He wasn't even in his room.
Houston, we have a problem.
I don't follow sports -- any sports -- not even a little.
Still, I couldn't help reading about the unfortunate Danish soccer player who, during one of the recent World Cup games, deflected the ball into his own team's goal, scoring a crucial point for the opposing team.
Which, in turn, made me think of that most infamous of all auto-goals, when, during 1994 World Cup play, Colombian soccer player Andrés Escobar knocked the ball into the wrong goal, resulting in the elimination of Colombia's team from the tournament.
And, ten days later, resulting also in the elimination of Escobar himself, executed outside a Medellín bar by a killer (presumably hired by drug lords who'd lost bets on the match) who shot Escobar 12 times, shouting "Goal!" as he fired each bullet.
In other words, things could be worse. Much, much worse.
What auto-goals (real or metaphorical) have you been scoring lately?
Or, to pose a somewhat less fraught question, do you follow sports? and if so, which ones?
Not feeling real hopey changey today.
However (or maybe that should be: therefore) here's my submission for Calliope's Photo Friday.
The theme is shoes. The plastic snakes were entirely my own idea.
My immediate and all-too-predictable reaction: introspection expressed through imaginary italics. Am I sad? Am I sad? Am I sad?
I suppose that if you can manage to put the chronic mild dysthymia to one side, I'm just about as happy as I've ever been. Maybe even happier than that. The dead baby thing? History. Ancient history.
Still, as anyone who's read this blog for any length of time knows, there's something, y'know, there. A long, long time ago, my wonderful, perfect best friend started dating my wonderful, perfect boyfriend. They got married and have a big house in the suburbs and a dog and a cat and two adorable children. I haven't seen or spoken with either of them in years.
Have I moved on? Of course I have. But sometimes I don't think I've moved on quite far enough. I was reading a letter sent to an advice column and it sounded awfully familiar. All the responses say the same thing: therapy, self-esteem, a life well lived. And while I'm nodding my head, a whiny little voice keeps saying that they just don't -- won't -- can't -- understand.
Put it this way: you also can't step out of the same river twice. Sometimes you can't even step out of it once.
I think about them every day. Sarah. Steve. Steve. Sarah. I don't want them back, but I can't seem to let them go.
Before we start, let's just stipulate that we all know that the right answer -- no matter what the question -- is always going to be something along the lines of You just need to do what's right for you and your family. Kumbaya. (((big group huuuug)))
But, really, what fun is that? Wouldn't it be so much more, um, educational to stir up lots o' drama and emotions and bad feelings? You know it would.
People emailed me with some great suggestions for a bunch of hot button topics. Let's start with the ever-popular: breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding.
Remember, you don't need to have ever actually fed a baby to participate. You just have to have a view (preferably a vehement one) about what everyone else should or shouldn't do. Or, really, anything even vaguely related to the debate.
Leave your confession below: how does this issue make you feel??
As always, if there are enough comments, I'll add a few of my own anonymous thoughts. Feel free to guess which ones they are.
eta: And one more thing. If you don't enjoy lots of snarky, judge-y remarks and random visits by the typo/grammar police, *do not* read the comments to this post. Just don't. You have been warned.
***comments closed*** -- save your snark for next time round.
While it's not exactly an ecological disaster of cataclysmic proportions, we have our very own mini-spill going on. As in a self-destructing dishwasher gushing torrents of dirty water all over the kitchen and basement below.
Plus, in seemingly unrelated developments, our landline no longer works, the a/c has conked out and my cell phone's reception is spotty at best. Though I'll admit that that last is likely due to my having left it out in the rain overnight.
What minor, um, challenges are currently confronting you?
eta: And, before I forget, the first Friday of the month is quickly approaching, which means it's time to cross over to the dark side for yet another round of fun and educational and (of course) completely anonymous confessions.
Any suggestions for a theme? Bonus points if it's likely to generate venom, vituperation and general internecine strife. Check out last month's edition for inspiration.
