This Week I Will Be Mostly...

Wow! That was the only post I was able to crank out last week! Hopefully I'll do better this week.

...wearing brown
...reading *The Ultimate pH Solution*
...watching nothing
...listening to Christmas music
...eating fruits and vegetables
...shopping for kids and co-worker gifts

Much like last week, really. I suspect it won't really change too much until after Christmas. I've also resolved that even though our local radio station stops playing holiday music on December 26th, I will listen (via Pandora) to Christmas music all the way into the new year. It is so depressing to have a whole month leading up to Christmas and then have it disappear in one day. While I'm near-frantic about cleaning up the wrappings and putting the gifts in their new places, I want some of Christmas to linger a bit.
Also, here's a picture of a snowy Smoky:

This Week I Will Be Mostly...

...wearing my new Little Miss Matched socks
...reading *The Ultimate pH Solution*
...watching nothing
...eating cold-weather goodies
...listening to Christmas music
...shopping for an ornament for my husband's faculty party

It Looked Like a Lumpy Strawberry Milkshake

As I pulled into work this morning, I had to veer sharply to the right and park next to my normal parking spot. "Why," you ask, "was there a bum person in your way?" No, no person. It was vomit. That's right: a big, splashy pile of puke right there in our parking lot. I have often called the sidewalk that runs next to our building the Hobo Highway, because, well, our office seems to be situated in a sort of Bermuda Triangle of homeless hotspots. Not that the homeless people are getting lost; we are just situated on the inside of three great homeless hangouts: a church that distributes food on a regular basis, the library (nice and warm), and the city park. We shall call it the "Tramp Triune." And within the Tramp Triune, we have become accustomed to pulling into the parking lot and seeking various empty liquor bottles and beer cans, but this is a first for the side-effects side of things. I don't know what you should expect out of the rest of your day when the first thing you witness as you come in to work is Vagabond Vomit, but it seems to promise more of the unexpected. We'll see...

Please Look the Other Way...I'm Being Pitiful

It's that time again, folks! An infertility pity party! *sad noisemaker bleat*

Schlepping around in New York a couple of months ago, I spotted this conglomerate of maternity stores and made the boys stop so that I could take a picture. I can't help but think that this area is ineptly named: it should be called "Arrival Maternity," because the merchandise in that store is for women who are mothers, even if their kid is still in utero. No, Destination Maternity is where I live; I would have no business shopping at Arrival Maternity at this point. I could definitely shop at Destination Maternity, though. An appropriately-stocked Destination Maternity should have stuff like Monica and Rachel gave Phoebe in that depressing episode of Friends: stuff pregnant ladies can't use, like leather pants and tequila. Of course, if that's all the store stocked, I still couldn't go there, because I don't drink, and I'm pretty sure if I ever wore leather pants the Fashion Police would jail me in a heartbeat. So we'd have other things, too, like sushi, deli meat, hot dogs, and unpasteurized cheeses. Oh, and a tattoo parlor in the back. And an x-ray machine that you can use free of charge. It doesn't sound like a classy place, I know, but it's the one place I can go and know that I'm not in jeopardy of seeing a plethora of blooming bellies. (Have you been to ikea lately? It's like a Pregnant Lady Convention!) So, if you need me, you know where to find me. I can't wait to be kicked out of the store.

Facebook: Quod Me Nutrit, Me Destruit

 

You know that lovely saying, "Don't hate the player, hate the game"? Well, that's my current relationship with facebook. I certainly don't hate the players. They are people I really care about and love. But facebook itself started messing with my head. An author that I really admire, Byron Katie, talks about the problems we cause for ourselves when we ignore our own business to purchase headspace in other peoples' lives. And that's what I've been up to, thanks to that mastermind of incognito voyeurism, the stalker page. I found myself doing things and taking pictures for the express purpose of putting them on facebook. True silliness. And worse yet, I began measuring my life against the lives of others. I began looking at other people's children and other people's vacations and thinking that my life didn't stack up. If that's not ingratitude, I don't know what is. I've been so abundantly blessed; I have zero right to compare my life to those of others. And I don't like myself as a voyeur. So while I want to keep my facebook account so that I can keep in touch with people that I wouldn't necessarily be able to stay connected with otherwise, I no longer check my page daily. I don't even check it on a weekly basis. And, really, it feels good.

Happy December 1st! 'Tis the Season...

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