tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250585602548191052024-03-13T11:35:09.043-04:00dead baby jokesUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1011125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225058560254819105.post-41798071967153976852010-07-09T08:38:00.010-04:002010-07-09T08:44:56.882-04:00closerYou told me I didn't need to stop by, but I did anyway. I sat on your couch while you made dinner. <i>Can I help?</i> I asked <i>What can I do?</i> <br />
<br />
In the kitchen, the radio said, <em>A little bit of Monica in my life, A little bit of Erica by my side</em><em>.</em> You were singing along, in a big goofy voice. <br />
<br />
There was a ballgame on tv and your team was ahead in the first and ahead in the sixth, but you punched the off button on the remote before we could watch them blow yet another lead. <br />
<br />
<em>They need a closer</em>, you said. <br />
<br />
When you walked me to my car, you opened the door for me and then you shut it. You tapped on the window and, when I rolled it down, you put your hand on top of mine. You said<em> </em>goodbye. You said take care. You probably even said see you later. <br />
<br />
I put the car in gear. The road was empty and, as far as I could see, every traffic light was green or turning to green. I didn't cry until I got all the way home.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
As you probably realize, goodbyes are not exactly my strong point. So I'm not going to say it and you don't need to say it either.<br />
<br />
You know where to find me. <br />
<br />
Or, to put it another way, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Winter's_Tale">exit, pursued by a bear.</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<a href="http://ilostaworld.wordpress.com/">Erica</a> (chocolate)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mfamama.typepad.com/">MFA Mama</a> (coffee)<br />
<br />
Email me at like.niobe.all.tears at gmail dot com with an address that I can send your loot to.<br />
<br />
And, because we spent way too much time at the playground this weekend, here's yet another shot of Cole. And, yes, he does carry that little car just about everywhere. <br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/TDMxFvWZ3gI/AAAAAAAAA3A/REqDFJa4Rvo/s1600/car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/TDMxFvWZ3gI/AAAAAAAAA3A/REqDFJa4Rvo/s320/car.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/TDMxdidvEyI/AAAAAAAAA3I/0X9C9tfwmkE/s1600/chalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/TDMxdidvEyI/AAAAAAAAA3I/0X9C9tfwmkE/s320/chalk.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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Although it's technically the first Friday of the month, given the long weekend here in the US (and, I suppose, in Canada as well), I'm going to postpone our regularly-scheduled snark-fest 'til next Friday. Try to bate your breath until then. Or, depending on your view of this sort of thing, you have been warned. <br />
<br />
<s>In other news, there's still time to enter the fun and educational giveaway. Just add your comment to <a href="http://deadbabyjokes.blogspot.com/2010/07/sweet-as-chocolate-light-as-air.html"> the previous post,</a> specifying whether you'd prefer inhaleable chocolate or coffee. A super-secret hint: since I'm doing the two drawings separately and since very, very few people have signed up for the coffee sweepstakes...well, you do the math.</s><br />
<br />
And, finally, the lovely and talented <a href="http://stilllife365.blogspot.com/2010/07/vanitas-niobe.html">Angie</a> is featuring one of my photos today at <a href="http://stilllife365.blogspot.com">Still Life 365</a>, a very cool blog featuring creative works of various kinds focusing on the topic of loss. Check it out -- and consider submitting a work (poem, photo, craft object, painting, whatever) of your own.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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</div><span style="line-height: 160%;">Because I'm all generous and selfless and, most importantly, have finally managed to get my hands on the semi-new product that everyone seems to be talking about, I'm giving away (wait for it) Le Whif. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 160%;">What is Le Whif? Well, the short version is that it's chocolate. That you snort. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 160%;">Learn all the tasty, tasty details at <a href="http://lewhif.com/">lewhif.com</a>. But, basically, it was invented by some biomedical engineer at Harvard and is supposed to give you a calorie-free choco-high that's legal in all 50 states (and likely numerous foreign countries as well). Plus there's a coffee version. And, yes, I'm giving away one of those too.</span><br />
<br />
How does this giveaway work? Just follow (in order) the simple steps below:<br />
<ol><li><span style="line-height: 160%;">Leave a comment to this post expressing your interest. It might read: <em>Chocolate.</em> Or perhaps <em>Coffee.</em> Or even: <em>I just can't decide, so you choose for me, sweet, sweet Niobe</em>.</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 160%;">Get chosen by the random number generator. </span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 160%;">Receive Le Whif. </span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 160%;">Inhale.</span></li></ol><br />
***comments closed ... stay tuned for winners***<br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 160%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px;">Full disclosure: While I wish that Le Whif were subsidizing this post in some way, such is very much not the case.</span></span></li><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="line-height: 160%;">I'm not all that good at actually, um, purchasing stuff that I want -- even stuff I really, really want. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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 <i>needs</i> to shell out a hefty monthly fee for an expensive new toy even though she seldom remembers to charge her current phone because ______. <br />
<br />
On the camera front, I've been fairly happily making do with a teeny tiny <a href="http://www.cameralabs.com/reviews/Canon_PowerShot_SD780_IS_IXUS_100_IS/"> Canon Ixus 100IS.</a> <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
In case you can't make out the label, it reads: <i><b>FAIR: to use: apply as needed</b></i> <br />
<br />
As, you know, if.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/TCs60pbvqWI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/JUE2dcyvoWY/s1600/as+needed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" ru="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/TCs60pbvqWI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/JUE2dcyvoWY/s400/as+needed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="line-height: 160%;">Yesterday, Cole woke up (in his crib, because I'm still dithering on the tent concept) with pink, puffy eyes. Conjunctivitis, said the doctor. Which was no big deal, but meant no daycare. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
But the beautifully organized cabinets? They make me almost as happy as <a href="http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-hap1.htm"> a clam at high tide.</a> Which is about the best any of us can hope for.<br />
<br />
<i>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 <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/21524179@N08/"> flickr photostream.</a></i></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
<span style="line-height: 160%;">This morning, I put Cole in his room, in his crib. I handed him his <a href="http://reviews.fisher-price.com/6194/43203/reviews.htm">favorite musical pink seahorse</a>, 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. <br />
<br />
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." <br />
<br />
He wasn't in his crib. He wasn't even in his room. <br />
<br />
Houston, we have a problem.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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I don't follow sports -- any sports -- not even a little. <br />
<br />
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 <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/06/14/simon-poulsen-own-goal-vi_n_610936.html"> own team's goal,</a> scoring a crucial point for the opposing team.<br />
<br />
Which, in turn, made me think of that most infamous of all auto-goals, when, during 1994 World Cup play, Colombian soccer player Andrés <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9s_Escobar"> Escobar </a> knocked the ball into the wrong goal, resulting in the elimination of Colombia's team from the tournament. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
In other words, things could be worse. Much, much worse. <br />
<br />
What auto-goals (real or metaphorical) have you been scoring lately?<br />
<br />
Or, to pose a somewhat less fraught question, do you follow sports? and if so, which ones?</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="line-height: 160%;">Not feeling real hopey changey today. <br />
<br />
However (or maybe that should be: therefore) here's my submission for Calliope's <a href="http://creatingmotherhood.com/2010/06/11/photo-friday-shoes/">Photo Friday.</a> <br />
<br />
The theme is shoes. The plastic snakes were entirely my own idea. </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
My immediate and all-too-predictable reaction: introspection expressed through imaginary italics. <i>Am</i> I sad? Am <i>I</i> sad? Am I <i>sad</i>? <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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 href="http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/relationships/blog/2010/06/moving_on_from_a_bad_experienc.html">a letter</a> 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. <br />
<br />
Put it this way: you <a href="http://www.quotationspage.com/quote/24078.html"> also</a> can't step out of the same river twice. Sometimes you can't even step out of it once. <br />
<br />
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.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="line-height: 160%;">It's the moment you've all been waiting for: Niobe's (mostly) anonymous confessions!<br />
<br />
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 <i>You just need to do what's right for you and your family. Kumbaya. (((big group huuuug)))</i><br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Leave your confession below: how does this issue make you <i>feel??</i> <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<i>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.</i><br />
<br />
***comments closed*** -- save your snark for next time round.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="line-height: 160%;">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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
What minor, um, challenges are currently confronting you?<br />
<br />
<i>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. <br />
<br />
Any suggestions for a theme? Bonus points if it's likely to generate venom, vituperation and general internecine strife. Check out <a href="http://deadbabyjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/first-friday.html"> last month's edition</a> for inspiration. </i></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
There's a comfort in repetition and, said often enough, any phrase becomes both mantra and penance. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. Words without end. Amen. <br />
<br />
When I'm reminded of what I've lost, I think: <i>I'm better off without them.</i> <br />
<br />
When I wish I were dead, I tell myself: <i>You will be. You will be.</i><br />
<br />
What's your refrain?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
<blockquote>from [xxxxxx] <xxxxx@gmail.com> <br />
date Mon, May 24, 2010 at 11:17 PM <br />
subject Dilema! <br />
<br />
How you doing? We made a trip to London (United Kingdom) unannounced some days back, Unfortunately we got mugged at gun point last night! All cash, Credit cards and phone were stolen, we got messed up in another country, stranded in London, fortunately passport was back in my hotel room. It was a bitter experience and i was hurt on my right hand, but would be fine. I am sending you this message cos i don't want anyone to panic, we want you to keep it that way for now! <br />
<br />
I have been to the police and embassy here, but they aren't helping issues,I have limited means of getting out of here, we canceled our cards already and made a police report, I won’t get a new card number till I get back home! So I really need your help. I Need you to loan me $2,500 You could wire whatever you can spare to my name and Location via Western Union, below is all you need:<br />
<br />
Receiver's Name -[xxxxx]<br />
<br />
Location - 272, Coriander Avenue, Docklands, E14 2AA , London United Kingdom I still have my passport so I can use it as identification,email me the transfer details and the confirmation # would def refund it to you once we arrive hopefully tomorrow.</blockquote><br />
<span style="line-height: 160%;">I guess this is a very common Facebook/gmail scam, though one I've never been the recipient of before. But it strikes me as just about the weakest attempt ever. <br />
<br />
Wire $2,500? Like, what's in it for me? Couldn't they at least offer a 20% share of the proceeds from the under-the-table sale of South African diamonds inherited from an "honored and deeply Christain" aunt or a fee for allowing "over-invoiced funds" embezzled by goverment officials from the Central Bank of Nigeria to be laundered through my bank account?<br />
<br />
Who's been scamming you?</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="line-height: 160%;"> It was more a mistake than a milestone, but, the other day, Ruby rolled over for the very first time. <br />
<br />
She was next to the coffee table, tummy to floor, when her forearms unfolded, her back arced and the weight of her head toppled her with the force of an undertow. She stared at the ceiling. She started to cry.<br />
<br />
Nothing was certain, but this much was clear: something had gone wrong, someone had blundered. Somewhere above her, the lights glared and dazzled. Nothing would ever be the same again. </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
So tired, in fact, that when I try to read, the words spontaneously generate their own anagrams, like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barnacle_Goose#Folklore"> barnacle geese</a>, born of driftwood, or crocodiles spawned from the <a href="http://www.opensourceshakespeare.org/views/plays/play_view.php?WorkID=antonycleo&Act=2&Scene=7&Scope=scene&LineHighlight=1402#1402"> mud of the Nile</a><br />
<br />
And how (or how many hours) did you sleep?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="line-height: 160%;">Fascinating discussion going on in the comments to that last post. Kind of a SAHM v. WOHM inferno cage match to the death! <br />
<br />
I've closed comments, but, due to popular demand,* I'm thinking we'll have another round on a different topic next month. Stay tuned.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*yes, I realize that there's probably a certain amount of popular demand going the other way. But what's that saying about <s>fooling</s> pleasing all of the people all of the time?</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
<span style="line-height: 160%;">I know, I <i>know</i> I said I was going to give up my first Friday confession thing. But I kind of miss it, plus I have my own confession ready to go right up front. <br />
<br />
I'm going back to work on Monday. And (here's the confession part) I'm really, really happy about it. My job has the usual quotient of annoying stuff and people connected with it, but mostly it's fun and challenging and makes me feel that, in my own way, I'm saving a tiny little corner of the world. <br />
<br />
And it's not that staying at home is actually unpleasant -- it's more that I don't see it as the best thing for anyone involved. I have certain strengths as a parent, including a reasonably large vocabulary, an even temper and a preternatural tolerance for repetition. <br />
<br />
But, more to the point, there are a number of lacunae in my skill set, the most gaping of which is my pathologically shy and (let's face it) antisocial nature. If I want my kids to be able to deal with other people, well, let's just say, that's not something that they're likely to learn from me.<br />
<br />
So, in summation: TGI(almost)M<br />
<br />
Add your confessions (anonymously, unless you don't feel like it) in the comments. For example, tell us why you love/hate working/staying home and why everyone who doesn't feel exactly the same way is, at best, sadly misguided. <br />
<br />
If there are enough confessions, I'll add a few more of my own. See if you can guess which ones they are.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
Generate your very own profound insight with (what else?) <a href="http://www.campus-adr.org/fun/Insightgen.html"> one of these </a> profound insight <a href="http://www.reocities.com/HotSprings/1927/intent.html">generators.</a> <br />
<br />
Share your newly-acquired wisdom in the comments, if you're so inclined.<br />
<br />
<i>eta: Clicking on either "one of these" <b>or</b> "generators" will bring you to one of two (similar, but subtly different) random insight generators. If you don't like the insight you get from one, try the other.</i><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
<span style="line-height: 160%;">Just remember: caffeine is a drug. And, like all drugs* <s>can be a lot of fun</s> should be consumed only in moderation.<br />
<br />
Is Niobe been hitting the latte a little too hard this morning? Let's look at the evidence, namely, a few of her recent tweets.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/S9rjkyFqITI/AAAAAAAAAz0/LSL2N3INJe8/s1600/Picture+128.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="47" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/S9rjkyFqITI/AAAAAAAAAz0/LSL2N3INJe8/s400/Picture+128.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/S9rjbKQ4eRI/AAAAAAAAAzs/ws7QDKyrzVc/s1600/Picture+129.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="52" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d6gx9tBJyqo/S9rjbKQ4eRI/AAAAAAAAAzs/ws7QDKyrzVc/s400/Picture+129.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And, moving right along, what's your favorite drink? Check out Calliope's <a href="http://creatingmotherhood.com/2010/04/30/photo-friday-cooking-beverages/">Photo Friday</a> for lots of pretty beverage (and cooking) pictures. Then go ahead and add your own.<br />
<br />
<br />
*NB:I am, of course, referring exclusively to those drugs legal in all 50 states. Don't look at me like that.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/21524179@N08/4563268036/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="driver by nerissa's ring, on Flickr"><img alt="driver" height="400" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3251/4563268036_76f84db003_b.jpg" width="301" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="line-height: 160%;">So, I'm posting these pictures of my two boys and what I'm thinking is mainly how impossibly lucky I've been. Yes, I've been unlucky too and there are lots of reasons that you would absolutely not want to trade your life for mine, but the last two years I've gone through two successful surrogacies, resulting in two perfect babies (a boy <i>and</i> a girl) and let's not forget the extra kid I already had. <br />
<br />
Someone recently asked me how come I'm no longer cursed and while I don't have an answer, it's the kind of thing I wonder about when I have nothing better to do. In other words, far too often.<br />
<br />
Which brings me to the ostensible point of this post, namely that the other day, a, um, friend of mine was googling curses and she found this nifty site enables you to send a<a href="http://www.pinstruck.com/sendacurse.htm"> free voodoo curse</a> by email to the victim(s) of your choice (providing, of course, that you know his/her/their email addresses). <br />
<br />
The recipient will get a personalized picture of a creepy voodoo doll with a creepy voodoo message. Plus the site has bonus features like tracking so you can see if the voodoo curse message has been opened and a selection of (definitely not family-friendly) victim feedback.<br />
<br />
While I don't think I'd want to really and truly curse anyone, I have to admit the idea is intriguing. Considerations of karma and such aside, theoretically, is there a person or group of people you'd kinda sorta like something bad (but maybe not <i>too</i> bad) to happen to? Answer anonymously if you'd like.</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="line-height: 160%;">I'm an idiot for many reasons, not least of which is that I really, really thought I'd already posted this or at least a reasonable facsimile* thereof <br />
<br />
First, because narrative clarity isn't my forte, I was planning to link to <a href="http://livelovegive.typepad.com/living_loving_giving/2010/04/so-many-things.html"> Ruby's birth story.</a><br />
<br />
Second, I keep meaning to participate (And you should too! Participate, that is. Not mean to.) in <a href="http://creatingmotherhood.com/2010/04/16/photo-friday-cooking-oil-and-electric-light-source/"> Calliope's Photo Fridays,</a> a weekly event where Calliope provides a prompt and you provide a photo. <br />
<br />
For example, the picture above was supposed to be my representation of the Cooking Oil theme from a few weeks back. Though the actual theme was Cooking Oil <i>and</i> Electric Light Source, and it only now occurs to me that I'm not entirely sure whether it was a pick-one-from-column-A kind of thing or if photos of both are required. Obviously, if it's the latter, well, that's just another reason I'm an idiot. </span> <br />
<br />
<br />
*Also, because I'm always happy to provide unsolicited insight into the way Niobe's mind works, the word "facsimile" irresistibly reminds me of a sentence from some otherwise-forgotten 19th or early 20th work describing two sofas (or chaises or some kind of furniture) that <i>facsimiled</i> one another, meaning that they were exact duplicates. A usage that struck me as whatever the opposite of an anachronism is, something that seems temporally out of place, but actually isn't. <br />
<br />
Like, for example, the all-too-modern (to my eyes, anyway) umbrellas in Caillebotte's famous Impressionist painting, <a href="http://www.artic.edu/artaccess/AA_Impressionist/pages/IMP_4.shtml"> Rainy Day</a>. Which, incidentally, you can purchase in reproduction, printed on <a href="http://www.artistgifts.com/umbrellas/fine_art_umbrella_7419.htm"> an actual umbrella.</a> If you're so inclined.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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