Uppercase Woman

Tucson, Days Three & Four: Mountains and Urgent Care

On Day Three, I woke up feeling pretty awful. So I stayed in bed late while Charlie took Tori back to the playground for a couple of hours. It helped, and I was able to roust myself enough to pull my ass out of bed and agree to get lunch and go for a drive. Tori's been avoiding naps except in the car, so we decided a nice long drive up Mt. Lemmon which has a handy-dandy windy road to the peak (which is actually a ski resort) would be just the ticket. So we left the sunny (ok, it was actually beginning to get cloudy) valley to drive to the snowy peaks and it was quite lovely. Tori got a nap for a little over an hour, and once she woke up we stopped at several vistas and took some very short walks to various views along the way. It was extremely windy up there, so it wasn't really safe for toddlers to be walking, as you can see.

God, how I love that photo. The rock formations on the mountain are amazing, and they really took my breath away.

Several folks have asked about the "old timey" look to some of these photos; it because I'm doing something called shooting "through the viewfinder." I'm actually using my digital camera and shooting through the viewfinder of an old Argus 75 camera (with a cardboard tube taped to it to keep light out). That way you get the effect of film without actually using film. Sarah is much better at this than I am, which you would know if you look at her photos online at all (here are her "TTV" shots, and here are her TTV self portraits).  It's really quite fun and makes me feel like quite the  art-eest.

Anyway, the day went swimmingly, until we foolishly went to the bookstore BEFORE dinner (I needed a book, what can I say) and she melted down again at the restaurant. So we took the food to go, and went back to the room. I'm sad to say I actually lost my shit a bit at Tori because when she started standing in the car seat and screaming and refusing to sit down (this is after I left Charlie at the restaurant to bring the food back to the hotel, which is located dangerously across six lanes of careening traffic) and I was just so hungry and frustrated that I said, "You better sit the fuck down right now, missy, or ELSE."

God forgive me, she DID. SO not the parent I want to be. Sigh.

Anyway. Ahem. Last night I was up all night coughing. This morning my chest was so tight that walking to the bathroom (you know, six feet from the bed) caused me to be out of breath. I tried to just wait it out, but then I realized I was being stupid. Tucson has an abundance of Urgent Care centers, so we packed up and took my ass to one. A short wait and quick exam later, I got a script for steroids and antibiotics and GOD WILLING by tomorrow night I'll feel better. We managed to salvage the end of the day (even though the weather was terrible--we brought our Pennsylvania cold, rainy weather with us, apparently) with a little shopping and a nice dinner out and a quick visit to a friend's rather insane art opening, but I'm ready for bed now. I'll end this post with a nice shot of me at the urgent care place, and a very sweet shot of Tori trying to comfort me as I hacked my lungs out.

Tucson, Day Two: Sickness & Meltdowns

So today I'm sick, and Tori melted down.

I woke up after a night of bad sleep feeling tight in the chest; tight enough to call my doctor's office in Philly and ask them to call in a script for a rescue inhaler (I'm technically asthmatic, although I no longer need medication for it) to a local pharmacy (I would have brought one from home, but mine were all expired). Now I'm coughing up a storm and feel kind of run down and while I'm putting on a good face and trying to hide it, it ain't really working. I'm not surprised; I've felt like I was fighting something off for more than a week. But still. Ug.

Add to that the fact that Tori refused to nap today... until we drove to dinner. Oy. Major meltdown at dinner. Her first public meltdown (other than the plane trip out here). She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't drink milk, she wouldn't take a binky, she wouldn't look at the photos of dogs on the wall, she knew the photo of the brunette woman on the wall wasn't Sarah. It was rough. She cleared out the little Mexican place we were eating dinner in. We were supposed to go watch our friend Denni practice for her Roller Derby bout on Saturday (seriously, I know the coolest fucking people) and I thought Tori would be into it, but alas--no.

So I'm going to go take some more cough syrup and lay down. Here's a couple of photos for ya. More are here, of course. Check there throughout the trip.

Yes, those are cupcakes on her butt. They make me squeal.

Gates Pass.

Tucson, Day One

Tucson looks both deeply familiar yet completely alien to me. Because I grew up in the desert in New Mexico (in Albuquerque), I keep looking at everything around Tucson--the mountains, the plant life, even the rocks and the color of the dirt--and feeling like I'm wearing a pair of glasses with the prescription just slightly off. Everything is just a bit wrong. The mountains aren't quite craggy enough, and they are too brown and not purple. The dirt is too pale; not red enough. And it's way, way, way too green.

And then there are the Saguaros.

Standing up everywhere, arms either upwards in prayer or downwards in a beseeching beg, they are so compelling, so incredibly intense, and yet so bizarrely comical that I just can't reconcile them with my memories of the desert (they do not grow in New Mexico, at least not around Albuquerque). They seem like some kind of army of crazed sentinels, perhaps slightly disapproving grandparents watching the approaching development with dismay.

There is so much sun here! I felt drunk with it today by the time we finished breakfast, and after our little hike in the afternoon I felt like I did back in the day when I had the spins and I needed to lie down for a while after boozing it up for hours. I was delirious. I don't remember being able to tolerate so much constant and unrelenting white spectrum light. I've grown accustomed to the softer golden light of Pennsylvania, and I felt like I was being bludgeoned by the sun here, even in sunglasses. I'm sure I'll become used to it by the end of the week--and I shouldn't complain since back home they are in the midst of an ice storm and misery--but it's just so damn BRIGHT. My eyeballs are scalded.

We managed to all avoid sunburn, however, even in t-shirts in direct, unforgiving sun thanks to careful application of sunscreen.

Tori has adjusted brilliantly to the time change, and is sleeping (with a bit of help from melatonin) with ease in the amazingly luxurious hotel we're in. Eating Mexican food that doesn't blow is awesome, I have to say--I'd forgotten what real burritos taste like. I like the car we've rented. But the best part of the trip by far is of course seeing our friends. Seeing Dave is one of the best things that can happen to anyone, and I'm really happy that right now it's happening to us. He's one of my spiritual touchstones, and the first person I've been able to make a long distance friendship work with, and it so easy and awesome hanging out with him. I can't wait to see what he has us do tomorrow.

Most. Narcissistic. Post. Ever.

So, the hair. I wasn't sure when I left the salon. It was a tad... Joan Jett for me, and there really wasn't any pink. My hairdresser gave me "mauve" highlights to go with my brand new bright red hair color--which looks great--and I'd been thinking hot pink. But we figured we can do the hot pink when I get it touched up closer to my birthday.

But, without too much more ado, here are the before and afters. There are two afters: when I left the salon, wearing four pounds of product, and after I showered at home (after the gym, when I was sweaty, had hair dye dripping down my face, and had prickly hairs everywhere--I had to shower). I like it a lot after the shower, much softer and less Joan Jett. But I'm gonna try blowing it out next time I wash it and see how it looks. So, here they are. Before:

After at the salon:

After at home:

So?

Mid-Week Mix-Up

Interesting discourse on the last post; but I have to say I find myself bristling about the folks that say "I want a woman to be President, but Hillary is not that woman." I also feel the same way about the folks that say, "I'm not going to vote for her because the Republicans hate her." Why is she the wrong woman? Because she is loud? Strong? Smart? Opinionated? Are we waiting for a more rational woman? A calmer woman, less divisive woman? One, perhaps, who knows her place?

The Republicans hate her, I believe, for two reasons: one, because she's a woman. First and foremost, I truly believe they hate her for that above all else. Secondly, they hate her for calling them on their bullshit when her husband was President and saying that there was a "vast Right wing conspiracy" against her husband. WHICH THERE WAS. Because COME ON. If you can get impeached for blowing married men, I'M FUCKED (technically, Charlie was separated. I promise he had moved out.).

Anyway. I guess I might be more of an idealist than I realized--I'll vote for her in the primary, but I'll be perfectly happy with Obama if he gets the nomination.

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Liz posted this link, proving why Huckabee scares the living fuck out of me:

"I believe it's a lot easier to change the constitution than it would be to change the word of the living God, and that's what we need to do is to amend the Constitution so it's in God's standards rather than try to change God's standards," Huckabee said.

Holy fucking shit people. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. This man cannot win.  Mitt Romney is scary too, and perhaps I'm naive to say so but Mormons have always struck me as a "Mind you own business while we do crazy shit" kind of religion rather than a "crawl up into my uterus and check out what's going on" kind. Sigh.

Please, for the love of God. The only person on the Republican side that looks like a half-way decent person to me, a total outsider, is McCain. Can anyone tell me anything different?

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Tori is fighting off another bad cold. For the three weeks she was not going to morning care, she wasn't sick. By the second day she was at morning care again, she had another cold.

How long does this go on? A year? Really?

By the way, you were all right. She's much, much happier going three days a week than she was going once a week. Now she runs up the stairs and starts playing before I can even get her coat off. She waves goodbye to me without even looking. It's awesome.

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I am totally obsessed with my 40th birthday, which is happening on April 26th this year. As it happens, that's a Saturday night. I'm going to have to have a party, aren't I?

I do not want to be a woman over 40. My boobs are sagging enough with the number 40 attached to them. It's really bothering me. I know I shouldn't care. I know. I suck. But I do.

I've decided in reaction I'm going to get pink streaks in my hair again. After all, I work from home, I never see my clients in person, there's nothing to stop me. I'll probably get another tattoo as well. So take that, 40, in the ass.

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A couple of links!

First of all, Sarah mentioned this awesome love story that she watched happen through her photography group. They have started their own Cafe Press store as a way to see each other since they live on opposite sides of the country. If you need some Gay Gear, buy it from them, would ya? Help make the dreams of a couple of girls come true.

Also, I happened upon this cool lady while masturgoogling (you know, googling myself). We have the same name! And she makes such cool cards, I couldn't help but share her with you all. Course, I thought when I saw "cecily ink" I was gonna get another highly tattooed gal like myself, but you can't have it all. I'm planning on ordering some of her stuff. Like these. And maybe these.

Also, I can't remember if I mentioned it, but I'm gonna do it again: Sarah put out another book of her photographs! This one includes all of her first year of self portraits. Dudes, you HAVE to get it. It's beautiful. You might have to hide it from your husbands though...she's pretty hot in some of 'em.

Lastly, there's a new post at my work blog. Yee ha.

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That's it from me. Any stray thoughts from you guys?

My Head Is A Painful Place To Live

I've had a bunch of post swirling through my migraine-laden head, and I haven't been able to sit down and write a single one. And I have no excuse, because when we recently decided to replace Charlie's doddering four-year old eMac (it couldn't load any web pages with streaming anything, ever) with a new Macbook, we suddenly decided to also buy a used Macbook (it's technically new, but had been rented out a couple times, much like our new minivan) for me as well. This has allowed me the greatest luxuries;  reading blogs in bed, or while sitting on the porch in this weird warm weather, or best of all--the ability to leave the house to work while Tori is in morning care.

This may come as shocking news to many of you. "But, Cecily," you'll all cry, "you left your wonderful, secure, supportive full-time job so you could be home with your daughter! And now you are sticking her in morning care and taking a laptop into the city and cavorting about in the coffee shops like a free woman! For shame!"

And you know what I have to say to that? HA. You try being home every day with not only your highly energetic toddler, but your dearly loved husband. The husband that you love more than life itself, but the one that will, if left unchecked, hover about your desk and share with you every horror story he's read on the internet (on the slow-loading-non-streaming pages). While Charlie and I are one of the most functional couples I know, we still can drive each other bat shit crazy (although, truth be told, he's way more tolerant of me than I am of him--he has the patience of a saint. I would have thrown me out the window of a fast moving car years ago). So we have decided that we now each get one day a week away from the house and each other. For me, that means going far, far away so that I can really let go.

So on Monday, I took my laptop and my camera downtown and took some photos and did some work and sat in the park on the weirdly 60+ degree day and listened to a jazz sax player and got a really fucking awesome pedicure. It was like having a date with myself. It was lovely.

Next Monday, I'm going to try to see my old chiropractor to see if he can help me shake these migraines. Cause I cannot seem to get this last batch to leave me be.

The Topomax worked great for two months. My migraines went from about 18 a month down to about five. I was living in heaven, with a head I could actually hold up. But then a couple days before New Years Eve I got a migraine that was really, really, really bad--the throwing up, lying in the dark, unable to see out of one eye for hours on end--that kind. And I beat it back with medication, but it didn't ever get better than 15-20% (worst being 100%). FOR A WEEK. I finally saw my doctor who gave me narcotics, and in one of those cruel twists of ironic fate, I apparently cannot tolerate narcotics now (the ex-heroin addict can't take narcotics--go figure). The drugs didn't help my head at all, and just made me more sick to my stomach. I ended up tossing my cookies in the middle of the night, which is just a blast with a migraine.

So last Thursday landed me in the ER, where they gave me the right combo to break the stupid migraine. But I'm still having trouble; every day a migraine tries to creep up. It's like I'm not taking the Topomax at all or something, I don't know. But I'm blowing fast through my $400 worth of migraine pills (that was for FIFTEEN pills) for the month, and I'm seriously considering sawing off my head.

Luckily, I FINALLY have an appointment with a headache specialist. One of those that does the botox injections. So I won't be able to cut my head off, but I won't actually feel it anymore. Whatever works, right?

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So today, I was dismayed to realize that Charlie has managed to curb his cursing habit around the baby. I hadn't noticed this was true, but our friend Fred (the guy that is from my church that has been working in our house for the last six weeks) mentioned that he has never heard Charlie curse. I was stunned. Charlie curses all the time! I swear he does? Wait... Shit. Motherfucking shit.

I really have to change my ways. Because it's probably not appropriate to say "Oh, for fuck's sake!" over and over to the baby to make her laugh. Right?

Another New Year Begins...

I've been finding myself feeling more rueful than usual as this year draws to a close. This is the last year I'll be in my thirties--I'll turn 40 this spring--and while that is generally rather meaningless, I can feel the shadows of a midlife crisis circling.

I have such a good life; I have a man that loves me unconditionally and passionately. A daughter that is perfect, charming, adorable, and enchanting (do you know what she's just started doing? Every time I tell her I love her she comes and gives me a hug. Could she be any cuter?). I have the best dog ever™. A cat the mostly uses the litter pan, and doesn't ever bite Tori, not matter how hard Tori pulls on her tail. A best friend many people would kill for. A mother that loves Tori and lives close by. A new car. A nice house that gets nicer every minute that our buddy Fred keeps hanging around fixing things.

But I find myself feeling a bit sad about stupid things; I no longer have the power to draw men's glances across a bar (OK, maybe it was just the big "slut" sign on my forehead, but I did have that power at one point). I have reached that age where most people see a "ma'am" instead of a "miss." No one would ever card me for beer or cigarettes (and I no longer indulge in beer and cigarettes, which I also find myself missing a bit today). It's unlikely that I'll find myself in the flush of new love again; and while I have something so much more amazing now--a deep and abiding true love that cannot be matched--I sometimes miss the days of burning so hot that I out shined the sun.

I'm firmly entrenched in the middle of my life now. I'm no longer at the beginning. I can see, now, why people have affairs (calm down, Charlie, I am so NOT going to have an affair), or buy fast cars, or take up rock climbing (I might, however, take up rock climbing). It feels a little bit, now, like I've done it all--like there's nothing new to explore. I've already lived six or seven different lives, some of them in different parts of the country. I am now simply placing one foot in front of the other, waiting for the next thing to happen.

There is great joy in this, of course. I now actually have the ability to live in the moment, to find the hope and magic in the mundane. I no longer feel the compulsion to change the world--and, honestly, that is so freeing. Changing the world is a big job, and I don't really want to have to do it. I have the capacity to sit still now, to listen to a piece of classical music and really hear it without the impatience of youth demanding that it fucking end all ready. I can enjoy just laying in bed with my husband, our arms loosely entwined, feeling content to just be. I can sit on the floor with Tori and watch her push the triangle through the triangle shaped hole over and over again and applaud it each time with equal enthusiasm because I have the patience that nearly 40 years of being on this planet has given me.

But sometimes it's hard to just smolder when you used to burn. It's one of the joys of growing old, but one of the big lessons in humility that comes with aging as well. I know I don't want to be like those people you see trying so hard to stay on fire with the surgeries and the crazy hair and make-up and inappropriate clothes. I am trying to let my skin settle comfortably around me, and just trust that it belongs where it falls, even if part of me thinks perhaps it should still be up a tad (ok, a lot) higher.

Because the truth is, as I head into 2008--a number that is as completely unspectacular as my life is--I have everything I want. I have a perfect life. I have become an ember instead of a flame, and I am learning to be content with that. I plan to head into the new year with only this one resolution--to continue to trust that my skin does, in fact, fit me. I wish the same for you as well.

Happy New Year, everybody. May you find happiness in the skin you're in.

New Year Approaches...why am I so tired?

I have been thinking about this great post I want to do, all about cocaine, prison, rehabs, the supreme court and mandatory sentences, but you know what? My cup don't runneth over; my cup is fucking EMPTY. I am drained.

I'd forgotten that one of the great things about my last job was that I got the two weeks directly following Christmas off. This allowed me to spend the day after Christmas laying prostrate on the couch, not even deigning to wear a bra for the day, watching whatever crap the television had to offer me. This was glorious. This allowed the batteries time to recharge after all the cooking and the cleaning and the shopping and the stress of the sobriety anniversary (one tends to get a bit crazy prior to one's anniversary) and the going to church 25 times, the PMS and the oh! thanks! Merry Fucking Christmas! I got my period Christmas morning! You know, all that stuff.

But this year, I have the world's most energetic 18 month old toddler, a job to do, and small construction projects going on so I had to leap out of my bed on December 26 and hussle my ass about trying to DO shit.

It wasn't good.

Within 24 hours, I was finding myself becoming snappish, churlish, and every other word that really just means being a big old asshole. I'm tired, I'm depleted, and I really, really, really want to lay around all day without a bra on and without a husband or toddler or dog or cat NEEDING me.  But of course I can't stop, or slow down, and my body reacted by slamming me with the mother of all migraines yesterday, which I didn't have time for, because I had to write a press release, damn it, and...

I had to take some pills, call my mom to watch Tori, and go to bed.

It didn't last long. I stayed in bed for only an hour, got up, wrote the damn press release, sent it off, we all ate left overs (still have tons--want to come over?) and then I rudely kicked my mom out at 8pm after Tori went to bed so I could watch a stupid crime show and go to bed.

I feel slightly better today. I am taking myself to a movie this afternoon, then Charlie and I are going to dinner and a show tonight which should be great fun. Maybe tomorrow I can lay about without a bra on. Sigh.

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I have two quick items of business to take care of. Charlie and I are going to be traveling (yeah!) in February (we're going to Tucson and Albuquerque, with a stop at the Grand Canyon as well--just a small trip!). We'll be away from February 11 to the 27th. I don't suppose there is anyone out there that is yearning to visit Philadelphia that needs a house to stay in that wouldn't mind feeding a cranky cat and walking Hammer the Best Dog Ever™ once a day? :) Normally, Sarah would watch Hammer for us, but two and half weeks of three dogs (they have two of their own over there) is a lot. If you are interested, email me.

Secondly, as of January 1st, the www.zia.blogs.com/wastedbirthcontrol/ address for this blog will be no more (sob!). Kindly change your links, everybody! You can use www.uppercasewoman.com; in fact, that is what I would prefer, if you don't mind too terribly much. www.zia.blogs.com will continue to work as well, but I'd really like the other one to be used more. Thank you!

Tired. Stuffed. Happy.

So, how was your Christmas? Mine was pretty nice. Much more relaxing than previous years. We cut this years guest list nearly in half; Charlie's mom gets so agitated in crowds now we thought it would help if we kept the chaos low (sadly, she still wanted to leave right after eating dinner and before dessert). Plus with Tori so agile this year we didn't think we could cope with a big crowd.

Sadly, I forgot to tell the menu that there would be fewer people, so now I have enough leftover food to feed half of Philadelphia. If you'd like to come over, let me know. I think I might have to host a leftover party. Seriously.

So you'll never guess what I got for Christmas from Sarah! One of these, with a great big video chip so I can do long video clips! So you know what that means, right? More video posts! Here's the first one; and in answer to your question, yes, I am arrogant enough to use the Charlie Brown Christmas special music as the background to my family Christmas video clip. So there.

...In Which I Ramble Senselessly

Holy Baby Jesus, people...do you all know Christmas is ONE WEEK FROM TOMORROW???

There might be, perhaps, a connection between that little factoid and the reason why I haven't posted in, oh, forever. The rambling today is also related to the fact that Tori has yet another cold and was up for several hours last night coughing. She coughed every two minutes, exactly. She did not wake up. We, however, did. Every two minutes.

Since we last chatted, folks, I have:

1. Had two choir rehearsals, both of which lasted over two hours.
2. Ventured into retail land and purchased some gifts at both Targét and Giant Fucking Book Store (where, funny enough--I couldn't help myself--at GFBS, I helped a customer. You can take the gal out of retail, but you can't take the retail out of the gal, apparently).
3. I finished stuffing a gazillion keywords into a gazillion web pages
4. Took Tori to her final structured playgroup at this awesome place we've been going since summer for the last time (they are done for the year, and in January she'll be at day care instead)
5. Ordered a million online gifts
6. Bought a new living room rug
7. Helped Charlie put the books onto our new, stunning bookshelves our friend Fred built in Charlie's office
8. Cleaned up the house and put up the Christmas decorations so that Sarah and family, plus Sarah's stepson (ha! I'm only calling him that so that Sarah will freak out when she reads that) and his girlfriend, and Sarah's two dogs, and my mom, and Fred the bookcase builder, could all come over to eat Chinese food and decorate the teeny little Christmas tree (that we put on the table, thinking--stupidly--that it would keep Tori from ripping off all the ornaments--HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. The tiny little partially denuded Christmas tree, on a table, is now in a cage).
   
9. Made sweet potatoes to take to my church's Christmas party on Sunday
10. Sang in our church's Cantata (OK, it was a mini-Cantata, but we totally rocked it) and attended my church's Christmas party with the previously mentioned sweet potatoes

Then I came home and took a two hour nap.

So do you forgive me for not blogging? Please? So, what's up with you? How is your plate too full?

By the way; fifteen years ago today, I was stumbling down the street with an early morning hangover headed to a deli for some restorative bagels and lox (mmmm...bagels and lox) and bumped into a certain gentleman with wolf eyes who was feeling rather frisky and who joined me for breakfast. We spent the day together (the man went to the MALL with me, for god's sake) and then the evening together, and by the end of the day I knew my life had changed. The man was Charlie. Happy getting-together-anniversary, baby! I bet his feeling REALLY lucky about now; I haven't showered, I've been wearing the same nursing bra for six fucking months, the living room is strewn with toys and the Christmas tree is in a cage. What a catch! Sigh. Course, I wouldn't have it any other way. :)

And I Didn't Even Have To Post Today

But these searches that led folks to my blog were just too perfect on this, a day I did not get out of my pajamas.

1. sperm survive jeans.   Wow. Wow. Really? If you have jeans-surviving sperm, I know some infertile women that want to meet you.

2. why is birth control evil?   I don't know that it is. Why such a leading question?

3. guys stroking counts.  Wait, I don't get it. Are you counting how often a guy strokes it? Or do you know a bunch of counts that need stroking? And why the fuck did that bring you here? Is it because we discussed Count Von Count on Sesame Street? Does he need stroking? Why am I now disturbed?

4. husband spanks a godly wife.  Well, thank goodness I am not in the least bit godly or I'd be due for a good spanking. On second thought...

5. is puff the magic dragon ok for christians.    I don't have any fucking idea. Is it ok for anyone? Seriously, does anybody know a sadder kids song (drug references or no)?

6. santa fucking mama pics.   Oh, for fuck's sake. Ew. What is that?

7. kind of foods make you strong in fuck.   Dudes! Borat reads my blog!

I'll close with this: proof that Sesame Street used to totally NOT SUCK.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Gone Daddy Gone

Voting is still open until tomorrow on the blog title! Currently, Uppercase Woman and Writ Large are fighting for the top spot. Cast your vote now!

____________________________________________

According to the 2000 Census report, 20 million kids under the age of 18 lived in single-parent households at that time. 16.5 million live with single mothers, and 3.3 million live with their fathers (of that 3.3 million, about a third live with their unmarried partners, while only a tenth of mothers live with an unmarried partner). That's about 6.7% of all children living with a single parent.

In 1970, when I stopped having two parents, about 5% of kids lived with just one parent. I didn't feel like an oddball kid, not having a dad. For a year, my mother and I lived with a group of women who were all also divorced and raising a kid alone, so I was one of many kids without a dad. But once I started going to school, I felt the difference. My mother was treated differently (it seemed to me) by my teachers. Other kids made fun of me for not having a dad.

Of course, part of that was because while there were plenty of other kids of divorce around, they saw their dads on weekends. Those dads showed up at the band concerts and the teacher conferences. But not me, and not my dad. My father simply vanished out of my life.

My childhood memories of my father are nearly non-existent. I have a very dim memory of him visiting once when I was three or four years old, and I thought he was a fireman because he had a huge (to me) red pickup truck. (This is ironic, of course, because my father later went on to become a firefighter, and then died in a house fire he caused). But other than that hazy memory, I don't remember him as a young man.

I had a lot of substitute fathers. There were a few men around my mother and I that were kind to us (not men she dated--she kept her dating habits away from me), like John Pugh, an acupuncturist married to a beautiful Mexican woman and built adobe houses for the poor. But most of my substitute dads were famous--John Lennon (who my father did bear a passing resemblance to), Jim Henson (don't ask me why--it's not like I saw him on television or anything, but I cried like a baby when he died), and other singers like Pete Seeger, and even John Denver (any man with round glasses like my dad was a substitute).

When I was in high school I read an article about the psychological impact of not having a father. Girls who lost their fathers to death tended to be grasping and clingy in relationships with men, and girls who lost their fathers by divorce often push their partners away. Although at that moment in my life I'd only been in one serious relationship (Paul, my boyfriend throughout high school), I felt a chill of recognition-- only two days before I'd dumped Paul mercilessly, then let him walk about thirty feet away before running after him and begging him to take me back.

I've talked before about having a Daddy-shaped hole in my heart, and how deeply the absence of my father has effected me. Now that my father is dead and I'm a mother, that absence has become even more intense and overwhelming. Especially now. Now that Tori is the age I was when my father left.

Maybe Tori is too attached to us--after all, she's home with both of us all day. But if Charlie leaves the house, even if it's just to take the trash out, Tori cries loudly and intensely (although it only lasts a moment). If he's gone for the afternoon, when he comes home Tori's face lights up and she shrieks with joy.

If he was gone--really gone, for good--she would know.

Earlier in my life I comforted myself when I thought of my father by saying I didn't know what I was missing--after all, I didn't remember him. But Tori would know it if Charlie left, and she would grieve his loss intensely and it would effect her for the rest of her life. How could I have imagined that I was left unscathed?

I'm trying to acknowledge and accept the feelings (which have been constant and intense) I've been having about this. The feelings have been coming out all sideways, of course: I've been rotten to Charlie lately, fighting and bullying him for no reason. I did a photographic self-portrait about it for my 52 Weeks project on Flickr, and now I'm writing about it here. But I know I'm barely scratching the surface.

Tori is lucky. There is no way that Charlie would ever leave her. It's why I married him, and why I wanted to have children with him. She will never have a daddy-shaped hole in her heart; instead, her heart will be, god willing, full of love and hope because not only does she have a daddy, she has one that loves her beyond reason.

I wish every little girl could be so lucky. The truth is, there are 20 million other kids out there that are currently running around with parent-shaped holes in their hearts. I don't know what can be done about this--you can't force someone to parent, and frankly, some people shouldn't BE parents--but it makes me sad to think about all of us with our broken hearts, trying to live in this world and be in relationships with each other.

Not to sound like a completely ridiculous and trite romantic, but I do believe that love is possible, and that love can heal. After all, after years of floundering, I managed to find it. And when I watch Charlie with Tori, a little bit of the sadness I feel about not having a father is lifted away. I doubt that I will ever be whole in that way, but I can rest easy knowing that I was lucky enough to stumble on a good man that will love my daughter (and me) for the rest of our lives.

Broken hearts can be mended, after all. Even the hearts of little fatherless girls like me.

Name This Blog!

Alright, folks. The suggestions have been mulled over thoroughly, with the review panel making its final decisions (the review panel consisted of me, Charlie, Sarah, Tori, and my mother).

This was tough, I'll tell you. I liked almost every suggestion, but I had to avoid the fun ones (such as "Cup of Shut the Fuck Up," thanks Jaina) with foul language cause I like to lure folks in first before I start in with the swearing. I also couldn't use some others because there are already a hundred blogs with similar titles (such as any variation of "fat lady sings"). Others, such as "Cec Pool" while cute, have very bad childhood memories attached (shudder--I was called that a lot in school). Still others, like the awesome "Mother of the Universe" (thanks Kim) just seemed too arrogant (not that I didn't think about it for a long time, though).

So, here they are, in no particular order. These are my top five choices, with a sixth runner up choice because Sarah loves it and it's her sober anniversary and who can say no on a sober anniversary (12 years! Whoo hoo!). I will tell you why I like them, and link to the nominator.

And one more thing, before I give you the actual list--please, please, please don't feel bad if I didn't choose yours. Chances are it's because someone else is already using it! Not that I didn't like it. Promise.

OK!

1. Writ Large. This awesome suggestion was from Genie, and I'll let her quote explain why I like it so much: "I found this definition, and it spoke to me: "Signified, expressed, or embodied in a greater or more prominent magnitude or degree: 'The man was no more than the boy writ large' George Eliot)." Plus, it's a George Eliot quote, who is da bomb.

2. Uppercase Woman. That one is all Charlie, baby. I like it because he says it means "bold, yet flexible" and says I am a force to reckon with, and don't we all want to believe we are a force to be reckoned with? Charlie also pointed out that ALL CAPS is how we bloggers shout. I seem to shout a lot. Ahem.

3. A Stiff Think. This one from Veevs (I'm pretty sure she was first). I like this one a lot, being a recovered alcoholic and all. Plus I'd love to believe my posts are occasionally as bracing and calming as a stiff drink can be. You know, if you're not a drunk like me.

4. Three the Hard Way. Ah, hilarious. Not only does it touch on the infertile past and the struggle to make us a family of three, but it has porn connotations. I love me a good pornography reference that isn't out and out lewd. Heh. Plus, Charlie says that it's a term related to playing craps, which is kind of like doing IVF. Heh.

5. Limited Vocabulary. This late entry by 'nolaffing' is quite possibly my favorite. It's from the saying "A foul mouth is a sign of a limited vocabulary" and since I just got yet another "Do you kiss your daughter with that mouth?" comment, it suits me quite well. And yes, I do. I often interrupt the flow of obscenity coming out of my mouth to kiss Tori.

And our runner up: Largely Irreverent. I like the fat pun, and I love the word irreverent, but I worry that it's too close to irrelevant. Of course, that's the point, that pun. So.

There you have it! Six possible names for this blog. I was going to have a fancy linked survey and stuff but you have to pay for those if you want more than 100 responses. So just post your vote in the comment section! Please, please, PLEASE delurk and post your vote!

I promise, I will make the title that gets the most votes the new title of the blog. And the person that comes up with that title is gonna get a prize. I still don't know what, but something!

LET THE VOTING BEGIN!

Contest!

Wow. You guys are just fucking awesome! I feel really excited and challenged. I'm starting to put together some research for an entry tomorrow, but today we have another order of business.

If I'm really going to do this--try to professionalize this blog a bit and challenge myself to write more topical things--then one last little thing has to change.

The blog name.

I've been told that my blog has a great name. But, funny enough, that name--you know, "...and I Wasted All That Birth Control"--came out of my, well, ass. I was signing up for my Typepad account, and I didn't put one second of thought into it. Not one. I actually thought that I would change it again (that's why the blog address is the much more generic "zia.blogs.com"). It seemed like all the good infertility blog names were taken already, and I just typed in "and I wasted all that birth control" as a filler. I never intended it to be the name of this blog for four years.

So.

Since infertility is no longer the primary focus of this blog (not that I'll stop talking about it--you know it will still come up), I figure it should no longer be the major focus of the title either.

I've recently registered the domain name www.mscecily.com, and you'll see that it points you right to this blog when you type it in. But I don't really want that to be the name of the blog. I want something better, something that will perfectly capture the foul-mouthed, liberal, feminist, fat, alcoholic, ranting mother, wife, woman and writer that I am.

I'm drawing a complete blank. Luckily, you are all completely brilliant. So! I'm proposing that you send me your suggestions. I'll pick my favorite five, then you can vote on them and the winner will be the new title of my blog!

Prizes will be decided later (I promise they won't suck). Ok? Let the naming begin!

PS: If you are all thinking that this little contest is just an attempt to trick you into not being pissed off about the name change, you are totally right. Heh.

Mulling Things Over, and Having a Pity Party: Join me?

I know I haven't been blogging much lately. A lot of that is because I haven't been feeling well; I'm still fighting off this damn cold (seriously, still tons of coughing and green snot after more than three weeks and one course of antibiotics; but at least the antibiotics stopped the spiking fevers). Also, my cycle has been such that I'm in peak migraine country these days; I had a migraine every day last week. Toss in the fact that my stupid doctor's office wasn't calling in my prescription refills to my pharmacy (they drive me crazy), and I therefore I spent the week having to ration out my (mostly ineffective) medication, you can guess it was a bad week physically. 

It was fun.

But all my cranky bitching aside, that's not really why I haven't been writing. It might be why, though, I let a recent email I got from a reader get to me so much. An email that told me I was now boring and writing about things that "aren't so terribly intriguing." I don't mean to pick on the reader that said it; the only reason it got to me is that I feel the same way. I constantly worry that I've become incredibly dull, and I wonder if that's why so many other infertility bloggers shut down and go dormant.

Most people, I think, write best from a position of pain or anger--and that's certainly true for me. When I'm in agony, I get very sharp and funny and focused because that's how I cope. But lately, my life is really, really good--so it's very easy to either focus on the small things (like binkygate, as Anne dubbed it) or bigger things that aren't earth shattering, like manners.

What do I really have to complain about these days? I mean, I'm lucky enough to be working from home now so I can be with my daughter; my baby is here, and I'm not planning to get back on the baby making merry-go-round; my husband is sweet, faithful, and supportive; my friends are brilliant and talented. All is well.

Does this mean I should stop blogging? God, I don't know. But being told I'm boring sure took the wind out of my sails.

There are things I could write about. I'm absolutely infuriated at the amount of money we are putting out for our health insurance--for very little coverage (today I'm going to have to put all my prescriptions on a credit card cause I haven't been paid in a bit and we're in a budget crunch, and my insurance doesn't cover them). The impending election is making me crazy already--it amazes me that Hillary Clinton's cleavage got more press than her policy. The Jena 6 story is frustrating and stupid.

But the truth is, when I'm feeling pretty content and happy with life, it is difficult to choose anger and despair just for a good blog entry. In recovery it's said that "righteous anger is a luxury of normal men", meaning that the way we alcoholics internalize anger and channel it into resentment is bad for us. Maybe part of the reason I'm unwilling to take up the flag and march lately is because I've been spending a little more time focusing on my recovery again in the last month or so. I don't know.

I realize that this post is going to come off as a plea for a thousand "oh, you aren't boring, don't stop blogging!" comments. Really, that's not required, and it's not what I'm after (nor do I, as yet, have any plans to quit blogging). If you blog, I'd be interested in knowing how you manage this sort of thing--the negative comments or criticism, and continuing to write when life is just, well, life. If you don't blog, tell me what you'd like to see me write about. Maybe between us we can get me jump-started.

Brain. Fried. From. Work.

I'm sorry I haven't posted again--I've been writing frantically for work. I promise to do Tori's monthly post tomorrow. Thank you for all your wonderful suggestions--I'm going to hit some sales, some thrift stores, and I will be sure to buy snow boots ASAP. I'm off to peruse Ebay for "new with tags" clothes from my fav places like Gap Baby and Gymboree. Sigh.

Today, since I'm totally fried, I'll leave you with this: did you know gremlins are real? Check out the Aye-Aye (here's the wikipedia write up). Freaky. Found from Dooce's link to this cool list of weird animals.

Fall, Input, and Giveaways

There's a nip in the air, the leaves are changing, the nights are shorter... it's fall, right?

Bullshit.

It's still 90 degrees here, the sun is shining down, but we can't take Tori to swim on this picture-perfect pool day because the arbitrary declaration of the calendar has proclaimed it to no longer be summer.

Bah, humbug.

We want to embrace the actual waning days of summer the best way we know--by going to the beach. Here's where I need your input: does anyone know of a reasonably-priced shore rental in New Jersey or Delaware that would allow four adults, an 11-year-old, a 15-month-old, and three dogs to stay for the weekend? Ahem. I've done some Internet searches and all the dog-friendly places don't allow kids, or don't allow dogs Hammer's size/breed, or cost thousands of dollars. So any tips you have would be appreciated.

Although it's still quite lovely here, fall will come eventually, and we have to buy Tori new clothes. She has nothing--zilch--nada for fall or winter that will fit. Well, that's not true--we have lots of pajamas. Her only remaining pair of shoes that fit are sandals, so that's not good.

So the next place I need your input is: where do you buy kid's clothes? I don't want to spend my whole paycheck (after all, I have to spend it all on HEALTH CARE). I'm not opposed to thrift either, but the cool kid's thrift store in my town just stopped carrying clothes for some reason. I'm not that interested in eBay stuff just cause I do prefer to touch it before I buy it. I'm just funny that way. So any tips would be appreciated!

Lastly, I have some stuff to give away! Stuff that was given to me by readers and friends that we don't need any more. I will be happy to send it to you if you are interested! Here's a brief list:

--Not one, but TWO Medela Pump-N-Styles (one was retrofitted by Juls to go in a small lunch bag)
--A glucose monitor (you know, one where you stick yourself and check your glucose level)
--Not one, but TWO hand-held breast pump thingys (both work, but suck ass for more than emergency relief)
--a pretty intact and colorful gymboree

If you are in the area and can pick it up, I also have some other fun baby stuff like baby swings and bouncie seats, that sort of thing.

I know how expensive it is to outfit the house for a baby and I want to pass on my good fortune. If you all don't want it, it's all going up on Craig's List. :)

Fun Days

Why are they fun? Well, let me list the reasons:

1. Tori has a cold and gave it to me.

2. Tori is breaking in not one, not two, but THREE molars.

3. Tori may have decided to switch to only one nap a day. Today she would not go down for her morning nap and wailed and wailed like she was the saddest baby in the universe when we tried.

4. Charlie and I fought over letting Tori cry it out. Wanna guess who was for crying? Clue: it ISN'T the person who is having a birthday tomorrow*.

5. Charlie and Tori's health insurance premium is going up $150/month. Bringing our household total premium to over $1,100. A MONTH. But there's no health care crisis in this country! Everything's fine! Nothing to see here! We have the best health care in the world! Yadda yadda yadda ug.

But it's not all bad. Tori's cold seems to be passing already, although my throat is killing me and my nose is running terribly. We thought her symptoms might have been related to the teething, but I don't think I can catch teething. I know right when I gave myself this cold too--we play a game where I put her binky in my mouth and she tries to pull it out. When I did that the other day, I realized the bink was covered in snot. Yummy. Perhaps we'll stop playing that game soon.

Now she's down for a nap, so at least she'll have one nap today. And if she switches to just one nap a day, she can start doing a lot of activities that start at 10am, which has been her nap time for ages. So that's good. The bad part is that I have a ton of work, and between my stuffy head and her not napping it's getting tougher.

But now I'm off to run and get cold medicine and library books. Life could be worse, eh?

*Charlie turns 45 tomorrow. Head on over to his blog and remind him he's still sexy, would ya?