Uppercase Woman

Teenagers & Sex

Before I start writing this post, I'm going to put in two important disclaimers:

1) I am not currently the parent of a teenager considering or having sex.

2. I personally happily engaged in teenage sex.

So there is no doubt that both of those details are going to strongly inform what I'm about to say.

.   .   .

A few years back I took several really wonderful anthropology courses from an amazing teacher and one of the many interesting things I learned from her is that the idea of adolescence--a period between childhood and adulthood--is relatively new in the million or so years of human history. In fact, it's basically been just a blip; only in the last two hundred or so years has there been this idea of an in between time, a not-quite-a-kid, but not yet ready to engage in adult behavior period.

Of course, it's really only been in the last two hundred or so years that humans have lived long enough to be able to have the luxury of five or so years of young people with grown up bodies but undeveloped, immature minds and hearts. Prior to that, people (and when I say people I mean women) had to start having babies when they were teenagers so they could maximize their fertile time since only about a quarter (or much less) of their children were likely to survive to adulthood.

In other words, no one really had time to go around saying things like "dry humping only" and "save it for your wedding night!" because girls were being married off even before they menstruated and were unlikely to have spent much time thinking about sex prior to their weddings. (There was a whole other cultural dynamic going on for boys during human history prior to oh, the last thirty years or so, that I am not going to get into here).

Now, of course, it's very different. We do live 80 or more years, we do have time to wait five years or more to enjoy our youthful bodies without engaging in sexual behavior if we choose. But here's the thing; we have not yet evolved to the point where our bodies don't want to have sex when we're fifteen years old. Nor have young women begun to menstruate later and later to accommodate the cultural idea of adolescence (in fact, the opposite is true).

Additionally, up until the last two hundred or so years, young men and women were not at leisure as teenagers. They were working hard in fields and villages. They did not have a lot of extra energy to devote to pursuing each other to get all hot and heavy. I'm sure some kids managed--but were also probably married off in short order.

So what we have now is a bunch of young men and women with nearly grown-up bodies basically at leisure with plenty of time and desire for sex, sex, and more sex. We culturally impose this idea of "rebellion" on them and then tell them NOT TO HAVE SEX.

So we have horny, restless, bored, and rebellious young people. What the fuck else are they going to do?

Obviously, parents can impress upon young people cultural and religious beliefs and hope and pray that they honor the tenets of those beliefs, and wait until marriage. And many do. I'm not saying it's impossible; I merely think it's unlikely. Unrealistic.

I think the best plan is to arm kids with all the information about how their bodies work that they can handle (for instance, I wish I'd known about shit like cervical mucus prior to when I started trying to conceive), arm them with all the information that is available about birth control and diseases, teach them how to make safe, smart choices, how to trust their instincts, perhaps some self defense tricks for girls and some caution for boys (like how to tell if a girl doesn't really want to have sex, how to protect himself from being accused of assault, that sort of thing), and then sit back and hope for the best.

My mother did that with me (maybe not all of it, but a lot). I had sex very early; I was (OK, sit down, conservatives) 14. But! I was in love, I stayed with that boy for nearly five years, he was very, very kind to me and I'd carefully researched birth control and had already been on the pill for a month before we went ahead (believe it or not, this was all pre-HIV--that's how fucking old I am). I do not feel like I made a mistake, or feel traumatized. In fact, I view it fondly and am still in touch with the (no longer so) young man (I could link to his web page, but I'm not sure that would be nice--heh) and we are still friends. I had the best possible first experience that a young woman can have--I truly believe that.

So. Let the comments fly--but please, be respectful at least of each other, even if you aren't going to be respectful of me. OK?

Those Topics You Wanted Me To Write About

We're nearing the end of NaBloPoMo, and I haven't covered nearly all of those topics you were kind enough to suggest I write about last month. And since you've been so kind and helping me with work stuff (if you are in the mood, you can go again and Digg this NEW article for me, thank you ever so much, I promise not to ask again for a while--you have no idea how much this is helping me with work), I figured I would take this next-to-last day and answer all of them.

Yep, all of them. Ready? Speed topics!

1. Susan asked what I think about the Canadian health care system. Frankly, I know fuck-all about it except that you lucky bastards have one where the government pays for basic medical stuff and then if you have a nice employer they give you additional coverage that pays for things like chiropractic care, and that every time I talk about health care here someone from Canada complains about waiting six hours in the emergency room in Canada. All I can say is, I'm totally jealous. As a privately insured individually here, I've waited 6+ hours in an emergency room many, many, many times--so it's not just a problem of socialized medicine. It's a problem with emergency rooms. So you guys have it gooooooood.

2. Melody asked how I feel about the Duke Lacrosse story now that the dust has all settled. I know this is a leading question on her part because she has always believed that the Lacrosse players were innocent. All I can say is, only the woman at the heart of the story knows what happened, and if she says she was raped, I believe her and I always will. One out of four women in this country is sexually assaulted at some point in their lives. I am one of those women; I was not believed; I will always believe the others.

3. Jenn asked me about sex after having kids. Since I have no idea what she's talking about, I'll let that one go. Oh, and if you see my sex drive? Send it home.

4. Wordnerd asked me about plus-sized pregnancy. This really deserves its own post, and I'll come back to it another time, but I wanted to link to this most awesome site that has some great support and suggestions. That site gave me the frame work for interviewing obstetricians, and really gave me a self-esteem boost about the whole process. The good? Not looking pregnant (I just looked fatter), and not getting a lot of inappropriate public touching and advice. The bad? Not looking pregnant and getting the accolades, and of course, the fucking clothing issues (the only place I found decent clothes is J.C. Penney online).

5. Kristin asked many things, one already addressed above, but I will answer just this one: no, no more kids for us.

6. Laura asked how I got my name. My mom grew up in the tiny little town of St. Joseph, Illinois (outside of Champagne-Urbana) and her best friend that lived across the street was named Cecily. Cecily is, ironically, a lovely amazon of a woman that is nearly six feet tall. Since I am only 5'2", Cec calls me, fondly, a dwarf. Cecily, if you were wondering, means blind.

7. Mimi asked what I think about politicians and celebrities popping into rehabs whenever they get into trouble for anything (including Larry Craig and his gay-bathroom-sex thing). All I can say is, rehab centers are a huge for-profit industry. They never turn anyone away--unless, of course, they can't pay.

8. Vita asked several questions. First about the Dutch health care system; see my answer about Canadian above--in short, jealous! Secondly, what would I saw to Tori at 16? I would say this: Tori, you aren't as fat as you think you are, I promise. Third, the only thing I miss about my life before Tori is the easy belief I had in God, and that was really before I lost the twins. Fourth, what we hear about Europe in the news varies drastically by medium. In print, you get a decent amount; maybe 5% of all coverage is about the rest of the world (I know; but 20% is advertising, 20% is fucking sports, 10% is movies/tv/gossip, and the rest is local and domestic stuff). On the radio, well, if it's NPR, you get plenty of information about Europe. If it's talk radio, you get almost nothing (talk radio is primarily focused on one end of the political spectrum or other and simply hammers home one message per show). On television, major network news may give a minute or two to Europe a night, but it's not much (however, some shows that devote an hour to news may give that full time to one European issue occasionally). CNN/Fox/et all, which run news 24 hours a day, you would THINK would provide extensive and insightful information about the entire world, but they don't. They run the same twenty minutes or so worth of information over and over and over endlessly, or will spend three hours on a police chase in Alabama. I (not to sound sanctimonious or anything) get a decent amount of information about Europe by listening to the BBC's News Hour every day on my local NPR station.

9. Chickenpig asked what I think about the various political candidates. Sigh. Here's a brief rundown on the two front runners; I think Giuliani is a fraud (did you know that the communications issues that caused the death of so many in the second World Trade Center tower was well known since the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, and in fact Giuliani's office repressed that information for three and a half years?) and I think Hillary Clinton is hardly ideal. But I know who I'll vote for, and who I hope will win. I'm sure you all know who that is.

10. Laura asked if I've ever considered writing longer works, like a book or a novel. The short answer? Yes. What? You wanted more?

11. Lauren asked me about my views on sex, drugs, rock and roll, homosexuality, babies, and religion--basically, she said, anything I wouldn't discuss at the dinner table.  Clearly, Lauren, you have never eaten at my table.  And I am for all of the above (yes, even the drugs--she didn't specify legal or illegal!).

12. Ang asked what it's like being on the "other side" of infertility. It's funny--it doesn't feel like a different side--but infertility no longer feels like a crushing weight. Seeing pregnant people no longer bothers me, holding babies is fun, I no longer long for anything baby-related (except maybe the younger Tori and the easier non-toddling days). That is nice. The funny thing is, those still struggling for their first child often feel like I no longer understand. But I do, I really do.

13. Ellen asked about teaching Tori about having a healthy sexuality. I promised you all I'd get to that, and I will--tomorrow (hey, it's a great way to close out the month!).

14. The Aitch asked about sex, how it compares now to my younger years. That one's easy: then, I had it. Now, I don't. Heh.

15. Hetty asked me if there is anything Republicans and I agree about. I almost didn't want to answer her cause then she dissed one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott (who is, admittedly, rabidly anti-Republican). Heh. Truthfully, there just isn't very much. Perhaps on tort reform there might be some common ground, but that's it. Basically, I'm totally a tax-and-spend liberal; I think government exists to help provide for and protect its people. So it's not likely we'd have much in common.

16. Ashley asked if I've had any arguments with people in my real life about things that have come up in my blog. Yes, but not about things like politics. I've had posts I've written about family backfire and really hurt people (I've since removed them); I've had one post about my dog lead to a long email discussion with a friend. But mostly it's been very, very positive.

17. Liz asked about the migraines. You already have heard a lot about them this month, but she asked if I had more money if there is anything else I would try. Yes! I would get a massage and a chiropractic adjustment every week if I could afford it, and I would also do weekly acupuncture. Both of those alternative medical treatments, I have found, are amazingly helpful and effective. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to be able to do them regularly. Sadly, going once in a while offers some help but not the improvement you see with regular treatment. Oh well.

Whew! That's all of them. Aren't you glad? One more day. One more day. One more day.

Bizarre Info For The Day

So, today we took Tori to a local church's Nursery School for their Parent's Morning Out Program (one morning a week, 9 am to noon, $60 a month--awesome!) so I could have a few toddler free hours to get work done. It's a lovely, huge place, with each room for the kids large and sprawling, and a nice, warm feeling that I just loved. Tori promptly forgot we were there when she saw the toys, so I left her in their capable hands to go fill out the paperwork with the director and she told me the most interesting thing.

You know the rabbits on the Teletubbies? Well, it turns out that they aren't normal. They are FUCKING HUGE. Apparently the director's father is a biologist and he became a tad obsessed with the fact that if the people inside the Teletubby costumes were adults, the rabbits were not the proportional, so he did some research. It turns out that they Brits (ok, some sites say they are Danish) breed this huge four-foot long bunny special.

That is all.

PS: Digg this?

Things I'm Thinking About (Or, one of those list posts cause I'm busy as fuck all)

1. Julie's possible good news. Squee!

2. This makes me very sad. For some reason, mostly because I haven't been to the Smithsonian in years, I had no idea they were all free admission. Last year they collected only $90,000 in donations at the door. This is just embarrassing. Sure, there was mismanagement and all (it IS government run, after all) but this is our heritage, people. Step the fuck up.

3. Five of my 12 pounds came back, courtesy of Thanksgiving and too many meals out. Eh.

4. Funny how everyone thinks Tori looks like me when she's screaming and crying. Why is that? I'm always smiling in the photos I post here. Maybe it's the double chins? Speaking of that, I have a post brewing about projecting my weight issues on Tori (I've been worrying about her pot belly; it's fucking me up). Will get to it this week.

5. New post up at the work blog (or will be very, very soon). Oh, and would you guys do me a favor? Can you all go and "Digg" this article for me? It's a work thing. I know you have to register, and if you don't want to, I totally understand. But thank you anyway!

Santa!

It worked out so well last year; the Monday after Thanksgiving we trekked out to the mega mall and dumped Tori on the lap of some strange man dressed up like an old elf.

So, we did it again. Same Santa. Not quite the same results.

Dealing With The Grieving

Tertia recently got an email from someone that was similar to emails I get now and again; the email basically said, "I know someone just lost a baby/pregnancy/child/husband/sister, and I don't know how to approach them, but you lost your kids, so what do I do?" This inspired her to ask a bunch of us who've been through something similar to write about their experience with grief and dealing with other people. Here's my take.

Many of you were around during the worst of my grief and sadness in losing my sons when I was 22.5 weeks pregnant. What can I say about it? It completely fucking sucked. It was like having the rug pulled out from under me, like finding out that God was dead, and like, well, losing a fucking pregnancy nearly two thirds of the way through it (it was a twin pregnancy, so by twin pregnancy standards, I was two thirds through). There was such a sense of being fucking robbed; it was just awful.

But I got through it, and you know what? There is no way out but through. You can not beat the grief, hide from it, will it away, eat it away (although I sure tried), drink it away (would have loved to give that one a go, but I know better) or anything it away. Grief is just a process that has to be slogged through. It doesn't, in my experience, really ever end--it merely reaches a level of manageability and tolerability that means you can eventually get to a point where taking a deep breath doesn't make you cry and seeing a twin stroller doesn't feel like an actual blow to the chest.

I think that is one of the things that surprised me the most about grief; it is damned physical. I felt heavy, like my limbs all had 100-pound weights attached to them, and each memory or moment of painful sadness ranged from a dull throb to an actual needle-sharp stabbing agony. It is not all in our heads; grief permeates our cells and fills us  head to toe with dread and sadness. If it were a color, it would be gray shot through with the colors of flames, burning as much as it left dry, dead ash in it's place.

It is no longer as acute, the pain of losing my sons. And I now have much more perspective on my loss. This week I'm getting together with a woman who also loss twins on the anniversary of her loss. She delivered her sons and had to watch them die. I am so fucking blessed that I was spared that; she is so much stronger than I am to have endured it. Tertia is stronger than I am to have been able to hold Ben and lose him anyway, but a terrible part of me is horribly jealous that she got to see his face. That is what grief does to you; it makes you alternately gracious and kind, and also small and mean.

I'd had other losses before that hurt badly. My dear friend Web who killed himself, and my grandparents. Other losses of places and people that didn't involve death but were agonizing all the same. But nothing like the loss of my boys. Nothing like that. That was horrid.

Since Tertia led this charge to help people know how to offer comfort to the grieving, I will first say this. A lot of people said a lot of things to me after I lost the twins. By some miracle, I didn't kill any of them that said things like, "They are in a better place," or "God called them home." (Although I did say to someone, "Well, then, God's a selfish bastard.") The best one? "I'm so sorry." There is nothing else to say. If that was accompanied by a hug, or better, some chocolate, that was great.

The only other thing that someone told me was the Buddhist theory on stillborn and miscarried babies. I've mentioned it here multiple times, but it's so good, I'll say it again. The Buddhists believe that babies lost before they live are souls that have already taken many turns on this earth, and they have already endured all the suffering they needed to. They merely needed to touch on this earth one last time long enough to be loved, and they get to stop being reincarnated and go straight to Nirvana. I love that. I love the idea of my boys in Nirvana. I hope they are happy.

I think the biggest thing about grief is that when someone you love is experiencing it, you have to be PATIENT. Some days they will laugh, and then they will spend nine days in row where they won't put any clothes on or bathe. Just accept this. Don't cajole. Don't force. Don't go out and buy them antidepressants (unless they want them, or they are doing harm to themselves. Nine days without bathing is not harm). Let them BE. Or, if they want to get drunk and pick up guys, DON'T let them be. Go with them! Just allow them to go through the process they need to go through. I am so glad I had this blog; without it, I think my friends would have found me unbearable. I've been reading Patty's blog and she is struggling so hard with the holidays. It's painful to read her blog, but I won't turn away. She needs to be hear. That's what all people grieving need.  Or at least, that's what I needed.

Patience, love, kindness. Those seem to be the basic watchwords with grief (or, with all, actually). I am so grateful people did that for me.

I hope this helps people. I'm not an expert, at all. But when Tertia says jump, we jump. :)

Migraines and Medication: Update

I know I've been updating about this constantly, but it's NaBloPoMo so give me a break, alright?

So, two weeks into the new Topomax regimen and I got my first real migraine today since I started that new drug. I thought I had a migraine last week, but then that headache didn't respond to migraine meds and I realized it was a sinus headache connected to my cold and it needed some elicit (had to beg the pharmacist and get my driver's license scanned to buy it) pseudoephedrine instead. But today's migraine was a doozy, with nice visual disturbances (the ceiling was covered with vibrating black spots) and pain like a knife in my skull.

But I was grateful. You might find that hard to believe, but you have no idea how long it's been since I've gone two whole weeks without a migraine. At least a year. Maybe two. This one responded nicely to meds and I felt pretty good for the rest of the day.

The other bizarre thing is that the appetite/weight loss side effect has finally appeared. Truthfully it doesn't feel like my appetite has been suppressed, but it does feel--for the first time in my life--like my stomach finally has a natural OFF button. I don't know how else to explain it. This must be how normal eaters feel; when they are full, they stop eating and push the plate away. This never happens to me. NEVER. Really. I always--always--have room for more.

Last night I opened a small snack bag of dark chocolate peanut M&Ms and ate one and realized I didn't really want them--so I put them away. Perhaps you didn't hear me; I PUT THEM THE FUCK AWAY. This doesn't happen to me!

Throughout my history with food, I have sometimes--with vigorous work and discipline and much self-denial--managed to eat only half of what's on my plate, or weigh and measure my meals, or refuse certain kinds of food (say, food with sugar or flour). But it has always--ALWAYS--been a huge, immense struggle. It's been painful and excruciating at the worst times, and a mere a pain in the ass at the best. It never becomes habit, it never becomes easy, and it always leads to misery and, eventually, failure.

And the pounds always come back.

But now, with this drug, my eating habits have just suddenly and easily changed; at first, I hardly even noticed (in fact, my habits had begun to change when I was still denying it). Now, my weight has dropped. I've lost 12 pounds. Now close your mouths and remember that this comes with migraines and don't get too excited. Plus, 12 pounds for someone my size is like a half pound for a normal weight person (OK, maybe a whole pound).

I don't know if this side effect will last, or if I will continue to need this medication. But for now, I am enjoying the freedom that I feel not being a slave to the food. It's just the oddest thing. It really is. Is this how the rest of you live?

Even that new car smell can't keep me awake

So, it turns out buying a new car is EXHAUSTING. But we did it.

:)

We are now the proud owners of a blue 2007 Hyundai Entourage GLS. It's lovely. We did pretty well on the deal, not as well as some of you sharks would have (I'm sure) but better than we would have without your advice. It took fucking forever, and Tori nearly wiped out poor Sarah back at the house while we were at the dealership, but it's over.

And the best part? I NEVER HAVE TO SEE THAT STUPID SUBARU EVER AGAIN. EVER.

There are a million reasons why the minivan is awesome, but can I just gush about the cup holders? If you don't know this already, the 1999 Subaru Legacy Outback has a "pop out" cup holder between the middle air vents and the radio. Not only is it the flimsy plastic equivalent of one-third of six-pack ring, but once you put a drink in it--even a tiny, itsy bitty little Red Bull--you cannot access the radio or the climate controls or see what the fuck time it is. This, as you can imagine, DROVE ME NUTS.

The Entourage, on the other hand, has roughly 432 cup holders placed every two or three inches throughout the van so that you never have to fully extend your hand to reach a drink. OK, that's a slight exaggeration. But there are two below the gear shift, four on that cool little center "table" between the drivers and passengers seat, and the front doors both have accommodating bulges in their side bins for large bottles of water. There are an additional six or eight cup holders for Tori to use in the back seat, plus I'm sure if I hunted for it, a secure place to secure Hammer's dog bowl.

IT'S A MAGIC MINIVAN, PEOPLE.

We are so happy. And tomorrow, after we've rested, we will drive it with great joy.

T-Day

Stuffed. Content. Grateful.

As it should be.

Five Reasons The World Has Gone Stark, Raving Mad

1. Today, a nun called me a saint. It involved a traffic accident (I wasn't in it, she was, I witnessed) and I feel like the accident was kind of my fault (I told her she could cut across in front of me, and neither she nor I saw the speeding maniac that came out of nowhere and t-boned her) but it was sweet of her and I'm glad I could help a bit.

2. My favorite 6'2" transgendered stripper-turned-strip-club-bartender is now working at the customer service desk at the K-Mart a few blocks from my house.

3. It nearly December and it was 62 degrees and sunny here in Philadelphia after TWO WEEKS of fucking freezing cold rainy days; tomorrow is expected to be the warmest Thanksgiving Day on record.

4. For the first time in nearly a dozen years I am heading toward Christmas and NOT WORKING IN RETAIL.

5. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, and I have more to be grateful for than can fit into 24 hours.

MotherTalk Book Tour: The Daring Book for Girls

I didn't take part in the kerfuffle about the Dangerous Book for Boys when it came out, but I couldn't help feel a twinge of "why is it just for boys???" irritation, even though all of the reviews were positively gushing about the books fabulousness. OK, maybe it was more of a serious feminist flare than a twinge. When I looked at the book and couldn't see a single thing in there that girls couldn't do.

However. That was before Andi Buchanan and Miriam Peskowitz (both Philly authors so they are my neighbors--holla! OK, I can't believe I just typed that) wrote the amazing, the fantastic, the beautiful, the wondrous, the absolutely fucking perfect The Daring Book for Girls, which I am blessed to be reviewing for MotherTalk.*

Oh, how I love this book. From the sparkly NOT PINK cover (bless you, authors, for that) to the retro-layout (it's very much like the old Girl Scout handbook of my youth, and I am not the first person to note that) to the magnificent content, you must--MUST--plan to purchase this book during your Christmas shopping for any girl on your list.

I knew I was going to love this book when I turned to the section about hiking and the authors not only discussed the basics (animal tracks, how to find a trail head) and poison ivy. They also included a photograph of the plant that works as a natural antidote to poison ivy (jewelweed; it also works wonderfully for stinging nettle burns).

But it's the sections on slumber party games and jump rope rhymes that makes it a book for girls. But it doesn't stop there. There are also math tricks, instruction on how to paddle a canoe, how to build a scooter (like, from wood), how to do a two-fingered whistle (a skill I personally learned in Girl Scouts), and so many more cool things that I wish I were ten again and could do them all. It's just chock-full of awesomeness.

Just reading this book makes me feel happy and relaxed. I find myself picking it up and reading it again and again and discovering new charming sections that I didn't notice previously. I can barely put it down. I can't wait to buy copies for girls I know this Christmas! It's just such an original (OK, so the boy's book was first, WHATever), quirky, cool book. I adore it. Seriously love it. Can you tell?

*I have chosen to not be paid for my review. OK, I don't want to violate my contract with BlogHerAds. Heh. I'm declining the standard gift certificate, and donating my copy of the book to my local library. Just so you know.

Points I Need to Make Cause I'm Still Too Sick To Do A Real Post

1. Cigarettes. I do not believe cigarettes are evil because I do not believe inanimate objects are evil. I do think the people that took a plant, refined it, added chemicals, packaged it, marketed it, and lied about it ARE evil, however. Also, as Jen pointed out in her comment, cigarettes are addictive and therefore are in and of themselves a stupid choice, but no one ever got raped, robbed or beaten because of smoking a cigarette, so they come with a different discussion than booze and drugs do.

2. My stupid illness. I have been battling kiddie diseases since September 1st. I have been sick pretty much non-stop since then. I'm very fucking tired of it. This particular batch of illness comes with horrific, non-migraine headaches. How do I know they aren't migraines? Cause they don't respond to migraine medication; they do respond to fistfuls of advil and sudafed. Fuck.

3. The migraines. Until this cold got worse, I had six headache free days. Six! For the first time in over a year! I increased my topamax dose yesterday and have not had any side effects so far (including the suppressed appetite; oh well).

4. I don't remember what number four was supposed to be.

____________________________________________

Good news! The planets have aligned in such a way that for the first time EVER, we are going to buy a new car. And by new, I really mean NEW, like NO ONE EVER OWNED IT. Do you want to know the last time this happened in my life? 1969, when my parents bought a 1968 Volkswagen Beetle.

My mom gave me that car when I graduated (by the skin of my fucking teeth) from high school. Sadly, I ruined it in three months. Two accidents killed it completely. After that I didn't have a car until, hmmm... let's see. Right before Dick and I broke up I bought a 1982 Datsun. This thing was baby-shit tan and weighed, at most, 30 pounds (seriously--I had trouble parking it one night and a buddy picked up one end of it and fixed the angle). That car was reclaimed by the Philadelphia Parking Authority for something or other (I think it was about the 87 unpaid parking tickets I had. No, not exaggerating. The parking authority dude called me "the biggest scofflaw he'd ever seen." I'm very proud of that.). After that, I got a 1987 Mazda. Had that for six months and the timing chain broke. Apparently, they put the timing chain in that car in a place it cost $5000 to reach, so bye-bye went another car.

I remained car-less until we got sober and I got a job that required driving. For $500 Charlie and I bought a 1976 Ford Maverick. This car was so sweet; it ran pretty damn well, considering, and actually brought tears of nostalgic joy to the eye of every mechanic I had to bring it to.  But I had a couple fender benders in it (it's amazing how that happens when you don't drive for a few years) and it was hard to find replacement parts, plus it couldn't pass inspection, so we had to replace it. For a brief period we had a 1988 Toyota Celica (god, what a piece of crap) then Charlie's mom gave us her 1990 Toyota Camry which was in excellent condition and was a great, great car. We ran that car into the ground. We had that car until Charlie's mom couldn't drive anymore and gave us her 1999 Toyota Corrolla (not a bad car, but another one that weighed about 30 pounds), which was too small for us (and our camping gear), and we traded it in for the 1999 Subaru Legacy Outback we have now. The one that we paid $10K for and have put in $7K worth of repairs into.

We are so excited about getting a new car.

So, what are we getting? We are getting one of these. I know some will think we don't need a minivan with just one kid. But toss in camping equipment and 100 pound dog, and there is no car that is better suited for us, I assure you. We've done the research. This model we've rented for a long trip before, and it drives like a car, has tons of space, and lots of little things that make it perfect (like the middle windows go down).

We are hoping to get a 2007 model. The 2008 list price for the maxed-out model is about $29,000. We are going to be paying cash and not financing. We are hoping for the following (feel free to laugh): to get a 2007 model for about $25,000 and to get $4,000 trade in on our car (the blue book value, with our mileage, is $3,700-4,700). We don't really give a shit about color (although we prefer not black or white). We'd like to leave with a car the day we walk in.

Since we've never bought a car before (we did buy this car from a dealer, and there was some negotiating, but it was minor), tell me... is this possible? We're planning on hitting up Sarah's dad for advice at Thanksgiving dinner, but I'd love to hear your experiences as well. Advice? Suggestions?

OK, maybe I did have a post in me after all.

Still UG

So sick. Went to church and left half way through. So awful. Thought I had a migraine, turned out it's just a head full of snot. Sigh.

I'm very tired. I'm so totally blowing the Nablopomo thing. Sigh. And I have stuff to tell you! Tomorrow. Promise.

UG

This stupid illness keeps waxing and waning. I felt much better Thursday and Friday and now I feel like death. I feel TERRIBLE. No energy to blog. So sorry.

I'm gonna go lay down.

That Question

In light of my posting about the behavior of alcoholic women, someone asked me again the big question: what will we tell Tori about alcohol and drugs given our history?

I often hesitate to answer the question because I always feel like what I'm really being asked is "How can you tell your daughter not to use drugs or drink without looking like a total hypocrite?" The answer? I can't.

But the real reason I don't want to answer the question is because I know my answer won't be popular.

Although I, personally, am an addict and an alcoholic, I do not believe that there is anything inherently wrong, bad, or evil about either alcohol or even most drugs. I do not feel that it is imperative that I impart a strong "Just say NO!" message to Tori. My feelings? She's probably going to get drunk. She'll probably smoke pot. She might smoke a cigarette or two (I'm on the fence about whether or not cigarettes are evil). She might eat some 'shrooms or drop some acid. I generally hope she steers away from the big guns--cocaine and heroin--the same way I hope she steers away from conservative politics.

My friend Sandy had a great philosophy with her two sons. She told them not to put their penises anywhere without putting on a condom first, and to not get behind the wheel, or get into a car with someone else behind the wheel, intoxicated by any substance, even cold medicine. That was it. I think that makes a lot of sense, except, of course, that Tori doesn't have a penis. Of her own. Yet.

Ahem.

We will, however, be honest about our history. We will, OF COURSE, discuss the fact that most things on that list of drugs above are clearly illegal and that to partake of them is to risk considerable consequences. We will highlight, in depth, the fact that alcoholism is a genetic disease and her chances of having it are extremely high and she should approach alcohol and other drugs with great caution.

I will talk to her about how you become stupid and make dumb choices when you are intoxicated, and that you often put yourself at risk when high or drunk. I will talk to her about how often sexual assault happens to young women in those circumstances.

I will talk to her about how much I love her, how smart I think she is, and how much I wish for her to make good choices. But I will not behave like the world has come to an end if she gets drunk or high. I know lots of people will disagree with me on this, but there you go.

Now, do you want to know how I feel about teenage sex?

Television Dreams **Edited

So last night I dreamed that Hiro (from Heroes) and Lt. Uhura (originally on Star Trek, but now woefully underused on Heroes) were starring in a musical episode of the superhero show. It was oddly touching. So I figured that's as good a reason as any to talk about TV again. How are you all liking the fall season so far? I'm enjoying several new shows still (Pushing Daisies, Chuck), some old shows still (Ugly Betty, Gray's Anatomy), and not liking some new shows as much (Private Practice--although each episode has one moment that makes it almost work, plus Taye Diggs--nuff said; and Journeyman). I'm sad that Californication's season is over, but I loved the ending so completely that I almost wish they wouldn't bring the show back and ruin it.

Now they are bringing in a bunch of new shows I don't care about (October Road, ug) and where the fuck is Lost already? Plus the writer's strike is making me seriously miss Jon Stewart in a big, big way.

Also, Chiara asked me to talk about Abby's current storyline on ER. If you don't watch, you need to know that her hot hot hot hubby had to go home to Croatia for some reason (like he's filming a movie), so she felt the "pressure" of being a "single" mom; then her nanny let the baby fall off the playground equipment or something and he hit his head and bled a whole lot. So the night they came home from the hospital, she decided to blow her sobriety (she's established as a recovering alcoholic on the show) and get trashed.

In short? There is NO way she would have gotten drunk the first night. In my limited medical experience, any time a child is injured--especially a head injury--they need to be checked throughout the night carefully. Abby is a DOCTOR so she would have been all over that shit. Two or three nights later? Sure.

However, I love that her sponsor said she couldn't help her if she didn't think she was an alcoholic. That was dead on.

So, there you go. Another boring NaBloPoMo entry. Now I must go because Tori is clinging to my leg and weeping inconsolably. Sigh.

**EDITED TO ADD**

I did not realize this, but somehow (something about the CSI/Without a Trace double episode) I missed ER last week and apparently didn't DVR the episode. So I missed a LOT about Abby's storyline.

Oh Abby. Abby, Abby, Abby.

We--and by we, I mean married alcoholic women--are just one drink away from what she's doing. All the time. While her sleeping with the new boss was shocking, it doesn't really surprise me. It's just what I'd do (calm down, Charlie) if I started drinking again. Tonight's episode, ending with her sobbing as she cleans up the spilled vodka on the carpet of her son's room. Shit, shit, shit.

In some ways, that was better than a meeting. It never hurts to have a reminder about what is out there for me if I drink again--heartache, misery, and pain. Nothing else.

Photo Post

Busy week; work is busy (I keep having to do the same project over and over cause my supervisor and I aren't communicating), and Charlie is finally selling his mother's condo Monday so I've had full time baby duty. So you are stuck with photos. :)

Drinkable yogurt, my ass.

Tori plays in a puddle.

So maybe I went a tad nuts with photoshop on that last one. Heh. More here.

Sick, AGAIN, for fuck's sake

Yep, another cold/flu thing going round these parts. I have a head full of snot and lovely spiking fevers, and Tori is wandering about giving the animals snot-filled kisses. It's adorable, in a disgusting kind of way. You can see where she's been by following the snot trail.

Luckily, she has embraced "blowing" her own nose, meaning she accepts a kleenex which she then happily rubs all over her face. This has led to a charming glaze of snot covering her entire face that I, frankly, feel too sick to bother washing off repeatedly.

The good news is that last night she slept through for the first time in a week. I did not, of course, because I was too busy worrying that she was dead (I was not alone; her only wake up involved Charlie having to check on her). I was also awake because I was waiting to feel the side effects of the Topamax I finally started taking yesterday.

Do yourself a favor. If you are finally taking the migraine-prevention medicine that you've been waiting a year to try--you've finally spoken to many experts, including your doctor and the pediatrician and determined that the minor amount of nursing the baby is still doing is not a problem--do NOT google the side effects. Because then you will be faced with page after page of anecdotal reports of the one thing you fear more than any other as a fat woman (you know, if you were me: I think my example is getting away from me): HAIR LOSS.

Ye gods. I have few vanities. OK, that's not true, I have plenty of fucking vanities. But I have lovely hair; thick, wavy, and easy to care for (all I do is wash it--OK, and dye it). I do NOT want to lose it.

After sorting through the responses, it seems that a) it doesn't start for a long time after people have been on it, and seems to be confined to high doses and b) it is actually probably related to the weight loss that every claims happened with the drug.

Rapid weight loss can cause hair loss. It appears that working hard to maintain proper nutrition can help prevent the hair loss on Topamax. I have taken exactly one tiny little dose (you start low and work up to prevent the 'dopomax' effects that many have warned me about) and my appetite is unmoved, thank you. I'm not surprised; I may be the only woman who compulsively overate while shooting heroin (I just ate a bit more slowly). Anyhoo.

The good news is, I do NOT have a migraine today. I've had one almost every day for a week, so that's progress, and most likely a placebo effect. We shall see.

__________________________________________

Two quick notes; Sarah is having a rough patch, so if you can spare some prayers for her, please do. Secondly, I finally put a post on the work blog. Yee-ha!

Scary Shit

This pisses me off.

Why? Well, it seems obvious to me, but I'll elaborate anyway, since I have to blog today. Heh.

Personally, I would opt, if I could, to ban all campaign advertising. I would prefer that all information about individual candidates have to be discovered by actually reading/listening to what the candidates have to say for themselves. Then, I'd like to have unbiased media do research to find out if they walk the walk, or if they are just talking the talk.

Since we DON'T have an unbiased media (Fox News, you know I'm looking at you), I don't mind if people use resources other than the news media to determine a candidates stance on issues that matter to them.
What I don't want is what we have now. Misleading ads put out by the candidates themselves (either about their own record, or their opponents), and the advertisements that are so completely dishonest, so completely full of shit and spin and downright fucking LIES that are created by organizations that are not directly affiliated with any particular candidate and don't have any oversight.

The ads wouldn't be a big deal, if we were, oh, an entirely different culture. You know, one that read up on shit and was careful to not buy the load of shit that most ads are selling. But it seems to me that most of us are influenced by the hateful ads we see, even when we try hard not to be.

I'm not just talking about Swift-boating here, although that is by far the most heinous example. Liberal organizations can be just as awful; I don't really want Moveon.org representing my liberal ass either (not that I disagree with what they say; I just don't care for their tactics).

The idea that it is going to be even WORSE this year than it was in 2004 infuriates me. Completely. I do not want to spend the next year fast forwarding through angry, hate filled advertisements while attempting to watch my favorite TV shows. A year of it! Arg.

It angers me that the politicians have loosened the controls on these groups instead of tightening them! Clearly it's helping more of them than it's hurting (I think John McCain and John Kerry are the only ones in office that felt the full brunt of the assaults), so I shouldn't be surprised. Most of them probably have their seats thanks in part to negative ads.

But the idea that these idiots can just say shit, without it being verified in any way, and not get fired drives me batty. I mean, look what happened to Dan Rather! That should happen to any idiot that doesn't fully check his or her facts before stating something as true. Even idiots running advertisements.

Boy oh boy. This election season is so gonna SUCK.

Memorial

For Sandy Crimmins... written at the memorial reading given in her honor.

It has been so long
since the words came to me
like this
in small, tight doses.

As I age, I need
more room
paragraphs, not stanzas
pages, not line breaks

I am no longer content
to be obscure
Now, I want to be clear.
Understood. Not mysterious.

But here, at your memorial
as I listen to everyone
singing your songs
the short lines have again found me.

Because I find that
I cannot
say too much
without weeping.

Lions for Lambs

So, this afternoon I snuck away from the family to catch a movie and because I'm an idiot I went to see Robert Redford's latest. It's quite good, of course; it's a talking movie, and I love a good talking movie (but MAN I wish Tony Kushner had a crack at the script). But there is such a pervading sense of hopelessness--that the media is bought and paid for, that the government has no idea what to do next, and that our best and brightest young people are either dying in war or totally and completely disaffected and apathetic.

Sigh.

Between the points the movie makes and the obvious overtures from the government that we "need" to invade Iran (seriously???), I am so going to move to Canada. I'm not kidding anymore. If by the time Tori is school age and this country continues down its current path of unbridled consumerism and fundamentalism, I'm out of here.

I realize I'm being a hypocrite, at least to some extent. I fully intend to buy a new car soon. I went to BedBathBeyond today. I am an American, a shining example of its hatred, anger, and obesity (at least one Canadian reader of this blog has emailed me to tell me they aren't sure they want me; I can't really blame them). But with each passing day I feel like more of a stranger in my own country--and an unwelcome one at that.

Just for the record, while Lions For Lambs is clearly coming from a liberal bias, it does not let us liberals off the hook at all. It reminded me that rattling sabers on my blog is not political activism (well, it might be, to a point) and that there is more I can do. Lord knows the marches my mother took me on when I was a kid shaped me; it's time to teach those same lessons to Tori. There is no point just sitting here.

I'm not sure you can call this a movie review, but I am sad, angry, and prompted to action. And that can't be a bad thing, right? Even if that action means moving to another country. I don't want to; I love my country and I love my corner of it passionately. But I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

God Bless the Meme

One good thing about memes (meme's? memes'?) is that they fill the posts during NaBloPoMo. God bless Moo for tagging me with this one. I don't know if I'll tag anyone, cause seriously, someone will be mad that I didn't tag them specifically. So, if you read me and you blog, you are tagged!

List 7 Random or Weird Facts About Myself (god--there is so little left!):

1. Tonight, for the very first time in my life, I'm making a roast. I have a gazillion veggies and potatoes from the local place we shop, plus a big ol' slab of roast, so I hunted the internet until I found a recipe that worked with what I had in the house (I didn't have parsnips, but whatever). I even wore an apron while I did it. I am officially a housewife.

2. I do not shave my legs in winter if I can help it.

3. My drug overdose before I got sober caused me to have symptoms much like a stroke (I overdosed on cocaine) and has left me with odd lapses of memory loss. For instance, although I sang in choirs most of my childhood and played the flute from 4th grade to 9th grade, I've completly lost the ability to read music. I could probably get in back with work (and being in my church choir has helped), but I look at a measure of music and could not tell you to save my life what the notes are.

4. I do not wear a watch, nor have I for most of my adult life.

5. Since I've been working from home and have stopped wearing earrings every day, the holes in my ears are starting to close. Well, not close, but they don't like my thicker earring, um, stems? Also, since I've stopped wearing makeup every day, my eyelashes are getting thicker again, like they were when I was younger.

6. I almost never wear foundation, but I look like I do. Many people hate me for that.

7. I do not have any idea how to operate an iPod, which I discovered to my embarrassment at a board meeting on Wednesday. Since Charlie and I are both part of this magazine's editorial board, we had to bring Tori, and another member offered her iPod with some Disney tunes on it to entertain her and I couldn't figure out what the fuck at all. Seriously.

That's all I can come up, mostly because I did one of these a while back. So, there's 13 weird things, if you read both posts. Heh.

Better Late Than Never: Video Post

I thought I'd make my life easier by doing a quickie video post. Sadly, Google Video wouldn't load it for hours and hours so I had to settle for YouTube. Hopefully this will work at some point.

Sigh.

17 Months

Just like that, another month has gone by. The weather has finally changed and the leaves are turning brilliant shades of gold and red, and you are changing just as fast. You are a miracle.

This month you have learned a lot. My personal favorite thing that has changed this month is your speech. You have finally  uttered your very first sentence, and to my utter and complete delight that sentence is NOT "you asshole!" as predicted, but "Thank you." Which you say "danku." You don't really know what it means, but it does show that we have gone a long way toward politeness in this house, because you say it when you hand us something (because, of course, when you hand us something we take it and we say, "Thank you!"), and today at story time at the library you said it to Miss Virginia the librarian as we were leaving. It is awesome.

This month also marked your second Halloween, and unlike last year where you were completely unaware, this year you were much more involved. You liked the candy quite a bit, but mostly while it was still in the wrapper (you love chewing on wrappers), but you did not understand why we were forcing you to walk around outside after dark and go up the steps of everyone's houses, especially since during our walks we spend most of our time STOPPING you from climbing everyone's steps. We dressed you as a Hershey's Kiss, which was unbelievably adorable, but you did not like keeping the hat on AT ALL.

Now that the weather is more bearable, your mom and dad have decided to get off their asses and try to do more exercise, so we've been going hiking. Miraculously, you love hiking, and both "big" hikes we've gone on in the last couple of weeks you've walked a lot--a mile the first time, and a mile and a half the second time. It was amazing to watch you learn why hiking is different from regular walking; in the course of a half hour, you learned to watch for tree roots and to balance on one foot instead of both when you wobble. It was really amazing. We are so happy about that we bought you little hiking boots, but we had to shop in the boy's section of the store for them since apparently girls don't hike according to the sexist assholes that make toddler shoes (sorry; Mommy goes on tirades sometimes). We will hike again very soon so you can try them.

We shouldn't be surprised at your hiking ability. On our daily trips to the playground you have abandoned the "baby" equipment and insist on climbing the stuff meant for older kids. You now happily plop yourself down at the top of the slide and skooch your butt forward until you can fly down it. You love sliding, and always say "Whee!" as you get off the slide (it's so funny, how you wait until you are getting down to say it). You can do the whole thing--climb the stairs, sit down, get in position, slide down, and get off the slide to do it all over again--all by yourself. Pretty soon, I'll get to be like those moms I see at the playground with a book.

You are such a happy kid. Like every child before you, your favorite game is "gonna getcha!" No matter what is  happening, if we stomp our feet and slowly "run" toward you, you shriek with happiness and dash away. It's the perfect way to fix any bad mood--for all of us.

You love to give kisses. You kiss on demand, and often kiss spontaneously. You kiss the dog and the cat whenever they sit still long enough, and come and give us kisses all the time. You also chase down kids at playground and storytime to give them kisses, particularly the babies that are younger than you, which is adorable (even when some of the baby's moms wish you wouldn't give their kiddos slobbery kisses). You do, thankfully, close your mouth now when you kiss.

This last week you had to deal with your first time change, which you dealt with quite rationally--in other words, you pretended you didn't know it had happened. Why would you, after all? Time is a rather arbitrary thing, and if the grown-ups want to go and just change it all of a sudden, why should you care? It does bother you that we can't go to the playground right before dinner, though, since now it's dark there and the neighbors might find it odd if you were sliding down the slide in the dark, even if it is only 5:30pm. So now when we walk to the park, you have to squint against the sun.

The other thing that's changed this month is that you are beginning to learn, just a tiny bit, about staying out of stuff we ask you to. You even occasionally respond to a verbal cue from one of us, although usually only when it's said REALLY REALLY LOUDLY. We don't want to yell at you, we really don't. But sometimes cranking up the volume gets the desired response and we find it difficult to resist. We promise to pay for your therapy later.

You are showing us more of your personality this month. You've developed an absolutely hilarious fake smile that you often run around with for no reason we can see (and is featured in the new masthead of this blog). It cracks us up. You've also started doing this weird laugh/chortle thing when you are happy where you go "hehehehehehehe" in a low voice almost like a sheep baaing. You have become incredibly attached to certain toys, such as "babir" (big bird) and OH MY GOD how you love my Pee Wee Herman doll from the 80's even though it no longer says anything other than a high-pitched squealing and it's full of sharp, pointy parts that hurt you when you insist on laying down with it. You also, for some reason, love my empty energy drink cans and will carry them around and pretend to drink out them for hours (I am so fucking happy that I don't drink beer anymore and have to watch you do that with my beer cans--sheesh). If we take away any toy you have deemed to be critically important in order for you to survive you give a piercing shriek that makes my migraine-laden head explode and then you cry and cry until we give it back. You also get very angry sometimes, often for no reason we can see, and will throw that same beloved toy down with such vehemence it bounces. We try (and mostly fail) not to laugh at you when you do that, but it really is pretty funny. More therapy, we know.

You do still run us ragged, however, because you have more energy than any other three kids put together. But you nap well, you sleep (mostly) pretty well at night, and you go to bed easily. Most other parents don't have that kind of luck, so we'll take the high energy in exchange for the good bedtime behavior any day.

Tori Anne, each day there is a moment (often more than one) where my heart swells so huge with love for you I feel like I might just burst. It's an amazing experience, and a great way to go through life. I can't believe no one ever told me this is what being a mom would be like--that along with sleep deprivation and crazy toddler chasing would come these glorious moments of happiness that are perfect and almost too much to bear. Thank you so much for giving me that, my darling girl. I love you so very, very much.

Must. Blog.

I'm sorry; it's already 9pm and I can't seem to think of anything to blog about.

Perhaps it's because Charlie and I finally got some quality time (a meeting, a movie, and then some hubba hubba) and I'm too addled.

Tomorrow I promise to go  back to that list y'all gave me and blog about something good. Really really good. I hope. Heh.

Meanwhile, to continue our boob theme, enjoy this group of photographs of topless women. Really, it's very cool. Tana sent it to me, like, forever ago and it appears her blog is defunct which is too bad. But thanks anyway, Tana!

Closing Down The Boob

So, I've decided: it's time. Time to lock up the breasts. Turn off the tit tap. Time for Tori to stop nursing.

If you all remember, nursing was not something that came easily to us. Tori didn't latch until she was two and a half months old, and didn't nurse without a nipple shield until she was nearly three and a half months old.

I took drugs to help make more milk when my supply wasn't meeting demand. When I went back to work, I pumped. Tori was exclusively breastfed until she was not quite six months old (at which point she had a bit of cereal mixed with breast milk).

When Tori was a year old, we slowly introduced cow's milk over a period of a month. I was working from home by that point, and once she was drinking cow's milk, I was able to finally stop pumping. Over the course of the last six months, Tori's nursing demands have decreased significantly, but have still been an important part of our lives.

I had planned to try to go two years or to let Tori decide when she was done. I still, to a large extent, wish I could do that.

But my migraines are so bad now. I'm getting 12-14 a month, and they seem to be increasing. The medications that help migraines the most are not available to nursing mothers. I want to try a few of them--hell, I'll try anything--to stop being in pain. In the last two or three months, I have had a headache of some kind every single day. Luckily, only about half of them escalate to migraines.

I can't take it anymore.

At this point, Tori nurses only a few times a day. She nurses in the morning when we get her from her crib and bring her into bed with us. She might nurse during the day, but only if I lay down on the couch (then she demands service bar nursing ). She used to nurse before bed, but mostly just plays now. She does nurse when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

I feel pretty confident that we can stop the before bed nursing right away, since that's her least favorite time anyway. Daytime nursing is easy to avoid as long as I stay upright on the couch. Mornings will be a bit more of a challenge, and I think we'll have to work on that one slowly by decreasing the amount of time she gets to nurse (she usually latches/plays/latches/plays/latches/plays, etc for about a half hour; we can stop that just by getting up).

But I'm really worried about the middle of the night nursing. She doesn't accept Charlie in the middle of the night without a huge (totally not worth it) fuss. She never nurses for long--really, two minutes max--but she seems to need it, although I suspect it's really because she's thirsty more than anything else (I'd think it was comfort, but I'm not allowed to touch her anywhere while she nurses when she's half asleep or she gets mad and wakes up too much--it's quite funny, actually, the way she pushes my hands away). I might be able to give her a few sips from my bedside water bottle (it has one of those silicon straws and she loves drinking from it) and just cuddle her instead. I don't know.

So, my dear friends, this is one of those times I could really use your experience and wisdom. If you have suggestions, I'd love to hear them. I'm thinking I will wean her over the course of the next five weeks or so, with her 18-month-birthday being our target stop date. So, tell me how you did it and what worked for you. Remember, play nice--share your experience or other good advice you've heard but let's all refrain from judgment, m'kay? Thanks!

All Saints

Today was All Saint's Day, and we honored the day at my little church. We lit candles for the people we lost this year, and prayed and sang. The person I chose to mention was my dear friend Sandy Crimmins, who I miss every day still. Her loss is even more acute this week because I have my first editorial board meeting for Philadelphia Stories, the literary magazine we worked on together (with lots of other people), without her on Wednesday.

But it's not just Sandy we lost this year. I thought of so many others. I thought of Patty's husband Dan. I thought of the people that have been murdered in my city this year, the most recent a police officer (we currently have a murder rate of about one person a day). I thought of all the women who lost children this year.

One of the things I love the best about going to church is the fact that it provides both place and ritual to things like grief. Without church, I wouldn't have a place to stand up in front of people and say the name of someone I loved and lost this year, and then light a candle in her honor. It's a small gift, but an important one.

Who have you lost this year? Who would you honor in this way?

Dumbledore is GAY

So, perhaps you haven't heard that J.K. Rowling has decided to "out" Dumbledore, of Harry Potter fame. Turns out that he was madly in love with his friend Grindenwald, the dude that began the descent of magic into the dark side. Apparently, Dumbledore was blinded by love, hence the bad choices he made, and his decision to "repent" by teaching future young magicians.

The response to this has been pretty typical. First, of course, the religious right--much of which already pretty much hated the Harry Potter series--just considers this to be fuel for the hell fires. Most Harry Potter fans are reacting with cautious support (most don't think it really matters).

My opinion? Well, frankly, it's pretty fucking safe to make that announcement NOW, isn't it? All the books are published, she's already made her millions, the contracts are signed for the last couple of movies--what harm can it really do her or the series?

But, of course, if she had acknowledged it earlier it could have helped shaped the attitudes of an entire generation of children to be gay friendly and gay tolerant--and maybe even helped young people that are struggling with their sexuality.

I'm having trouble finding much in the way of linkable reactions in the gay community (which tells me that I really need to be reading more queer blogs). If you know a gay blogger that has commented on this, please post a link in the comments section!

What do you think? Too little, too late? No point? What's your take?

_____________________________________

On a mildly related note, I've gotten a couple of forwarded emails dissing the movie version of one of my favorite books, The Golden Compass. This is what the email says:

You may already know about this, but I just learned about a kid’s movie coming out in December starring Nicole Kidman. I believe it's called The Golden Compass, and while it will be a watered down version, it is based on a series of children's books about killing god (It is the anti-Narnia). Please follow this link, and then pass it on. From what I understand, the hope is to get a lot of kids to see the movie – which won't seem too bad - and then get the parents to buy the books for their kids for Christmas. The quotes from the author sum it all up.

Here's the real deal, folks.

The author IS an atheist. He is a believer in secular humanism. He did not like the Narnia series. He wrote a series of books that share his philosophy. 

But ultimately? This book is no more about religion or "killing God" than the Lord of the Rings books are.

It's a little something called a FANTASY NOVEL (or movie). Your kids will not rise up and try to kill God if they see this movie. Seriously. Get a grip. The "ultimate authority" that is killed off in the book is more like Big Brother in 1984 than it is God. It really isn't directly analogous.

Sigh. We can all get so worked up about stuff, can't we?

Fall

I've been living in Pennsylvania now for 21 years. I followed my mother here from Michigan after she finished her PhD at MSU and got her first teaching job in Philadelphia. I was 18 years old, had just survived a sexual assault, and didn't see a great future for me in East Lansing, so I decided to come along (I did panic right at the end and try to change my mind but my mother convinced me to come anyway).

For my first 10 or so years here I still felt like my home state, New Mexico (where I lived until I was 13) was Home with a capital H. Eventually, however, this little corner of the world grew on me, and now feels like capital H Home.

Philadelphia is a great city that has no idea that it is a great city. I've never before seen a town with a self-esteem problem. In the shadows of New York and Washington, DC, Philly is an east coast city that has managed to barely hold its own using blue-class ethics and mafia bullying. But it is still a historical city, steeped in culture, and best of all, surrounded by trees.

I think it's the trees, ultimately, that will keep me here. New Mexico had mountains, and Michigan had, well, snow, but Philly and the surrounding counties are full of big, old, happy trees. Trees that blast into spring with beautiful flowers, and then blast into fall with all the colors of flames. Driving around the outskirts of town with the lovely rolling hills that tend to be around these parts gives you vista after vista of pretty fall colors this time of year.

Today we decided to toss everyone in the car and drive a short distance to get to a state park (another great benefit of this area--lots of parks nearby) and go hiking. Tori, miracle that she is, walked for about one and a half miles. Even Hammer got tired before she did.

We've been pretty dry here this fall and thought that we wouldn't have much color when the leaves changed. What do you think?

The reds are really dramatic this year, with the oranges and golds just as stunning.

It was so lovely to be out today. I've been feeling a tad crazy; the anniversary of the loss of the boys has hit me harder this year than it did last year, and instead of feeling appropriately sad, I've been raging. Raging at Charlie, raging at the dog, raging even a little bit at Tori. But it's mostly been at Charlie.

When Charlie and I argue, and I start to get loud (what, you thought I was a quiet fighter?), Tori laughs and laughs. I've always felt kind of protected by that, and thought that she wasn't bothered by the arguing. But it occurred to me yesterday that, perhaps, she's actually just coping with her fear by laughing. When I'm faced with someone else's anger, I often laugh. I can't control it, not really. It's a nervous habit.

I don't want Tori to have to witness my anger anymore. Or, at least, not as much. So getting outside and getting some fresh air and exercise is a much better way to cope with my sadness and anger.

Fall used to be my favorite time of year back when I was drinking. I loved that it got dark earlier, because for some reason I felt like you could only drink after dark, and if it was dark earlier I could start drinking sooner. Living in the city, early evening never really meant true darkness; in fact, it meant bright lights and colorful urban noises and sights. It meant theater performances, happy hour, and full restaurants. When I was drinking, I'd leave work and head straight to the bar, giddy with the lights and sounds of a city settling into night.

Now that I live in the suburbs, am sober, and have sad anniversaries at this time of year, fall has become much more bittersweet. It means the long, busy slide toward the hard work of Christmas and the darkness and cold of winter. I've come to resent fall.

But today I was reminded that this time of year is full of its own bright lights and beauty. It feels good to remember, just like it feels good to finally let go a little bit and cry for two lost little boys. I'm glad we went out today.

I needed it.

Presenting...

So, how was your Halloween? Were there lots of kids coming to your house? We had a crazy night here; turns out Tori didn't like her hat much (I forgot to take pictures--luckily, Sarah didn't).

Oh, I'm sorry--did you want to discuss something else? Like the new title of this blog and the new masthead?

Heh.

If you can't see it, hit the shift key and the refresh button.

As you can see, Charlie was the winner. He is being awarded, I assure you. Thank you again to everyone that suggested names and voted! I was rooting for "Limited Vocabulary" but it was clear early on that Writ Large and Uppercase Woman were the favorites (with a Stiff Think a strong third). But I'm thrilled with the new title!

It's funny--the new blog name has made me think about the idea of being a woman. Growing up with a strong feminist mother gave me a different sense, I think, about what it meant to be a woman.

My mom made it clear to me that we had to fight to make sure women had the same rights as men. I wasn't allowed to play with Barbie dolls because they both reinforced negative female stereotypes and they also contributed to a negative female body image. I knew the women could drive cars just as well as men did, no matter what the comedians on TV said. My mom told me that women could be astronauts, lawyers, doctors, and even president of the United States. She pushed me to think hard when it came to women's rights; for instance, when a friend in Middle School turned out to be a Mormon, my mother spoke at length about the sexism of that faith sect. When I protested that my friend's mother worked as a dental hygienist, my mom said, "Why not a dentist?" I was encouraged to really GET how women had been held back, and was taught to fight to change it.

But it wasn't until later I realized that being a woman wasn't all about fighting and scrambling to get a fair share. It's about so much more than that. And I don't just mean the obvious things like being a mother or having sexual organs on the inside of your body (although that does ROCK). It's about the fact that as a woman, I can choose to be pretty. I can also choose to be strong. Being a woman, I get to sometimes be pretty AND strong. Men don't really get to have that option (not without great difficulty, anyway).

The pretty and strong thing might come off as simplistic or trite, but I think it sums it up well. Having the freedom to explore my female-ness is a wonderful thing, and makes me glad to be a woman (even with all the crap that comes with it).

The "uppercase" portion of the new blog title is funny. I love the fact that it plays on "upper class," and that it refers to my tendency to SHOUT. But Pete, Sarah's husband, told me last night that the reason capital letters are called "uppercase" goes all the way back to Gutenberg's invention of the printing press. Since lowercase letters were used much more often, the actual lead letters were kept in a case at the printer's feet, right in handy reach. But the capital letters were kept in a case overhead because they were used much less often--hence, "uppercase" letters.

I love that. I love that after years of this blog being about my infertility struggle, it's now moved to a different place--a different case, if you will.

So, my dear friends and long time readers, welcome to my new blog "Uppercase Woman." I will shortly have the domain name uppercasewoman.com hooked up here, so feel free to change your favorites or your blog reader subscriptions. But don't worry, your current way of finding the blog won't change. But if you get the chance, change it up, would you?

And thus begins my month of daily posting. Yee-ha!