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Overheard on Christmas morning:
Dad: When do you think they'll stop putting Tiger Woods' affairs in the sports section?
Me: When it stops being a sport to watch his career self-destruct.
Dad: Ho ho ho!
His friend: Four more hoes and you'll catch up to Tiger!
There were a lot of unnecessary Tiger Woods' jokes this holiday. It was actually kind of hilarious.
Laurie: You got me with your toenail last night!
Dad: Oh no.
Laurie: Really got me. You almost severed my ankle.
Dad: Oh that's terrible. I got you. You know that's why my sister and I stopped sleeping in the same bed as little children: I used to get her with my toenails.
Laurie: You took it right off. My poor foot!
Dad: Was that your foot in I found in the bed?
Laurie: Why yes, yes it was.
Curtis: At least it wasn't some stranger's foot. That would raise a number of questions.
Laurie: Well, I got it fixed this morning. You know, got up early and had it reattached.
Me: That's good. Don't go ruining the holiday by walking around with your stump on Christmas morning.
Curtis holds up the contents of his stocking: But if you did we could clean it up with ShamWOW!
Dad: I had all the bedsheets made of ShamWOW!
Me: Wow! Look at that blood disappear!
Dad: Now I don't even have to get up in the middle of the night to pee anymore.
Curtis: Now extra absorbent! Can hold an entire body worth of blood!
Me: Get rid of the evidence with ShamWOW!
Marika realizes that half of her stocking was made of asinine "As seen on TV!" products: Wow, it's like you walked by a kiosk and bought everything on it. All we need is a SlapChop!
Me: There actually was one of those there.
Marika: What?! And you didn't buy it?
Curtis: Awww.... now who will love my nuts?
Dad: When do you think they'll stop putting Tiger Woods' affairs in the sports section?
Me: When it stops being a sport to watch his career self-destruct.
Dad: Ho ho ho!
His friend: Four more hoes and you'll catch up to Tiger!
There were a lot of unnecessary Tiger Woods' jokes this holiday. It was actually kind of hilarious.
Laurie: You got me with your toenail last night!
Dad: Oh no.
Laurie: Really got me. You almost severed my ankle.
Dad: Oh that's terrible. I got you. You know that's why my sister and I stopped sleeping in the same bed as little children: I used to get her with my toenails.
Laurie: You took it right off. My poor foot!
Dad: Was that your foot in I found in the bed?
Laurie: Why yes, yes it was.
Curtis: At least it wasn't some stranger's foot. That would raise a number of questions.
Laurie: Well, I got it fixed this morning. You know, got up early and had it reattached.
Me: That's good. Don't go ruining the holiday by walking around with your stump on Christmas morning.
Curtis holds up the contents of his stocking: But if you did we could clean it up with ShamWOW!
Dad: I had all the bedsheets made of ShamWOW!
Me: Wow! Look at that blood disappear!
Dad: Now I don't even have to get up in the middle of the night to pee anymore.
Curtis: Now extra absorbent! Can hold an entire body worth of blood!
Me: Get rid of the evidence with ShamWOW!
Marika realizes that half of her stocking was made of asinine "As seen on TV!" products: Wow, it's like you walked by a kiosk and bought everything on it. All we need is a SlapChop!
Me: There actually was one of those there.
Marika: What?! And you didn't buy it?
Curtis: Awww.... now who will love my nuts?
I was link surfing earlier and happened across this post by (ironically) someone I don't know at all and it got me thinking about the same sort of deal.
This has been on my mind ever since I figured out that I somehow attracted a readership of somewhere around 50'000 people a month. You know that LJ stats thing they just introduced? Mine said I get between 2500 and 6000 visits a day. I'm ... okay with that, while somewhat mystified as to how it has happened. I'm not about to do things like privatize my entire journal or scream about hating the internet. To be honest, most of the time it's cool to have a large readership: if I'm curious about something or in need of support, there's always lots of people who can lend caring, and diverse responses. You have to admit that's cool.
When Jericho died I kept all the letters and gifts that came to my house: there were dozens upon dozens, most from people I didn't even know. Some from the parents of readers, writing me letters about their own experiences losing children decades ago... it was incredible. Four years later I still regularly use the shawls and blankets that were very lovingly created for my family.
When I get emails from people who say that something they read here was touching, or new, or obnoxious (but, still made them think), or helped them talk to someone, or reach out, or feel they weren't alone... then that's also really cool. I keep those, too.
That said, it does get weird when I start getting the kinds of emails and letters that aren't as neat, the "I saw you, therefore I have status - do you want to hear about my status?" emails. Or, approached by hysterical strangers on the street.
So, I kind of want to say the same sort of thing, except without being quite so aggressive. There are appropriate and inappropriate ways to approach someone you think is cool on the internet.
Not appropriate: getting 5-8 emails a week that say, "I saw your family walking somewhere, and this is what you were wearing, and you were shorter in real life and omg you're cool and I think I know where you live now. I followed you for blocks! Will you talk to me on the phone?".
Appropriate: Waving and smiling politely, perhaps saying hello if you're not too shy.
Not appropriate: Exclaiming "You're real!" or, "You're BEAUTIFUL". Particularly in public situations like on transit, or while I'm shopping, so that a crowd of other people start staring and wondering who I could 'be'.
Appropriate: "Are you Babs/Heather/Babyslime? Cool. Was nice meeting you, see you later!"
Not appropriate: following me and Curtis for several blocks (and we totally know you're there), then posting about it in your journal. It always gets emailed to me by your friends.
Appropriate: Either actually giving a polite greeting, or turning around and walking the other way.
Not appropriate: Coming up out of nowhere, bursting into tears, and touching me/my children's hair or faces.
Appropriate: Not touching me or my children under any circumstances. If you feel yourself about to become hysterical, please see the nearest doctor.
I could go on, but I won't. Seriously though - I do live in a big(ger) city now, and get way, way too many, "I know where you shop, but I swear I'm not creepy" emails every week. I'm not really the type of person to be scared of people in my bushes, but I must admit this does get unnerving at times - not so much because I think I'm in danger, but because that's fucking odd, dude. I really don't want to start seeing the merit of wearing those giant-ass shades at 11pm at night.
If you want to say hi, please do so. Like a normal person would to another normal person. You may know a lot about my life, but I don't actually know you at all, and you are a stranger to me. I'm happy to meet new, interesting people - particularly if they think I'm cool for some reason (as this is rare in real life), but please act like a normal person.
If you find yourself freaking out, arm-flapping, peeing, or bursting into tears, take a moment to ask yourself: "Do I want to be brought up in someone's therapy session?".
Our house is now a mess again. That was short-lived. Yule tore the house apart, and this morning it's a mess due to packing. We're going up to spend the rest of the holidays with dad (et all).
The kids are knee-deep in presents, even though it seemed at the time like we got them very few. They want to bring everything up to visit Crazy Grampa (as he prefers to be called) and we're having a serious problem paring down the "must have" list of toys for a relatively short visit.
So far we have all the crayons/markers and colouring books, Xan's wooden train tracks plus several handfuls of cars and trains, Tempest's new Berenguer doll with stroller and blankets, her My Little Pony knock-off carrying case with about 12 ponies and brightly coloured mini-dolls, the Invent-a-Tent set, books, and all the presents and stockings we're saving for Christmas morning with the extended family. Our car is going to be fucking packed on the way home.
We haven't seen Marika in over a week: she's been up visiting dad, her friends and her boyfriend for the entire holiday break. Xan has been wandering around the house in a tearful daze asking for, "My Reeka" since she left.
This gave us a chance to do some serious gift shopping for her. We sort of went overboard, considering that she's not really our "kid" and we originally intended not to outdo anyone else (like dad, who has a very limited budget)... so, now we have about half a dozen gifts for her ranging from a lava lamp to professional artist supplies.
So, they are now officially from "everyone".
At the last minute we picked up Daddu a gift card, and I just finished Laurie's "Booga Bag" this morning. Of course, now I feel bad because neither of them had the cash to give us gifts this year and seconds before either of these things were done they had left a message on our machine saying that we'll call it even and a "kids holiday".
Well... I guess this means for the first time in my life, the kid gets to give a present to the parent and they don't get to give one back! That's actually kind of awesome.
I kind of suck at entry writing lately; but I've also been insanely busy. I solemnly swear to go back to normal in the new year.
Quotes of the Day:
Curtis and I discover that our last blanket for the bed has a spot on the corner of it that looked suspiciously like cat shit, and at midnight we move it into the laundry room and start up the washing machine. Only after we start it do we realize that all of our comforters are dirty. However, we have to use something because it's fucking cold in the house and we can't just crank the heat and sleep with nothing.
Curtis disappears into the laundry room and returns some time later carrying a mysterious comforter.
"Is that clean?" I ask with distain.
"I have no idea," he says. "It was on the floor".
"Um..."
"Okay, Heather --" he begins, "Last I knew this comforter was taken off our bed because we just wanted to change it after a few weeks of use. Not because it had been peed on, shat on, puked on or cum on. Like all our other blankets were. In large quantities." He flicked it out onto the bed. "This one wins."
This has been on my mind ever since I figured out that I somehow attracted a readership of somewhere around 50'000 people a month. You know that LJ stats thing they just introduced? Mine said I get between 2500 and 6000 visits a day. I'm ... okay with that, while somewhat mystified as to how it has happened. I'm not about to do things like privatize my entire journal or scream about hating the internet. To be honest, most of the time it's cool to have a large readership: if I'm curious about something or in need of support, there's always lots of people who can lend caring, and diverse responses. You have to admit that's cool.
When Jericho died I kept all the letters and gifts that came to my house: there were dozens upon dozens, most from people I didn't even know. Some from the parents of readers, writing me letters about their own experiences losing children decades ago... it was incredible. Four years later I still regularly use the shawls and blankets that were very lovingly created for my family.
When I get emails from people who say that something they read here was touching, or new, or obnoxious (but, still made them think), or helped them talk to someone, or reach out, or feel they weren't alone... then that's also really cool. I keep those, too.
That said, it does get weird when I start getting the kinds of emails and letters that aren't as neat, the "I saw you, therefore I have status - do you want to hear about my status?" emails. Or, approached by hysterical strangers on the street.
So, I kind of want to say the same sort of thing, except without being quite so aggressive. There are appropriate and inappropriate ways to approach someone you think is cool on the internet.
Not appropriate: getting 5-8 emails a week that say, "I saw your family walking somewhere, and this is what you were wearing, and you were shorter in real life and omg you're cool and I think I know where you live now. I followed you for blocks! Will you talk to me on the phone?".
Appropriate: Waving and smiling politely, perhaps saying hello if you're not too shy.
Not appropriate: Exclaiming "You're real!" or, "You're BEAUTIFUL". Particularly in public situations like on transit, or while I'm shopping, so that a crowd of other people start staring and wondering who I could 'be'.
Appropriate: "Are you Babs/Heather/Babyslime? Cool. Was nice meeting you, see you later!"
Not appropriate: following me and Curtis for several blocks (and we totally know you're there), then posting about it in your journal. It always gets emailed to me by your friends.
Appropriate: Either actually giving a polite greeting, or turning around and walking the other way.
Not appropriate: Coming up out of nowhere, bursting into tears, and touching me/my children's hair or faces.
Appropriate: Not touching me or my children under any circumstances. If you feel yourself about to become hysterical, please see the nearest doctor.
I could go on, but I won't. Seriously though - I do live in a big(ger) city now, and get way, way too many, "I know where you shop, but I swear I'm not creepy" emails every week. I'm not really the type of person to be scared of people in my bushes, but I must admit this does get unnerving at times - not so much because I think I'm in danger, but because that's fucking odd, dude. I really don't want to start seeing the merit of wearing those giant-ass shades at 11pm at night.
If you want to say hi, please do so. Like a normal person would to another normal person. You may know a lot about my life, but I don't actually know you at all, and you are a stranger to me. I'm happy to meet new, interesting people - particularly if they think I'm cool for some reason (as this is rare in real life), but please act like a normal person.
If you find yourself freaking out, arm-flapping, peeing, or bursting into tears, take a moment to ask yourself: "Do I want to be brought up in someone's therapy session?".
Our house is now a mess again. That was short-lived. Yule tore the house apart, and this morning it's a mess due to packing. We're going up to spend the rest of the holidays with dad (et all).
The kids are knee-deep in presents, even though it seemed at the time like we got them very few. They want to bring everything up to visit Crazy Grampa (as he prefers to be called) and we're having a serious problem paring down the "must have" list of toys for a relatively short visit.
So far we have all the crayons/markers and colouring books, Xan's wooden train tracks plus several handfuls of cars and trains, Tempest's new Berenguer doll with stroller and blankets, her My Little Pony knock-off carrying case with about 12 ponies and brightly coloured mini-dolls, the Invent-a-Tent set, books, and all the presents and stockings we're saving for Christmas morning with the extended family. Our car is going to be fucking packed on the way home.
We haven't seen Marika in over a week: she's been up visiting dad, her friends and her boyfriend for the entire holiday break. Xan has been wandering around the house in a tearful daze asking for, "My Reeka" since she left.
This gave us a chance to do some serious gift shopping for her. We sort of went overboard, considering that she's not really our "kid" and we originally intended not to outdo anyone else (like dad, who has a very limited budget)... so, now we have about half a dozen gifts for her ranging from a lava lamp to professional artist supplies.
So, they are now officially from "everyone".
At the last minute we picked up Daddu a gift card, and I just finished Laurie's "Booga Bag" this morning. Of course, now I feel bad because neither of them had the cash to give us gifts this year and seconds before either of these things were done they had left a message on our machine saying that we'll call it even and a "kids holiday".
Well... I guess this means for the first time in my life, the kid gets to give a present to the parent and they don't get to give one back! That's actually kind of awesome.
I kind of suck at entry writing lately; but I've also been insanely busy. I solemnly swear to go back to normal in the new year.
Quotes of the Day:
Curtis and I discover that our last blanket for the bed has a spot on the corner of it that looked suspiciously like cat shit, and at midnight we move it into the laundry room and start up the washing machine. Only after we start it do we realize that all of our comforters are dirty. However, we have to use something because it's fucking cold in the house and we can't just crank the heat and sleep with nothing.
Curtis disappears into the laundry room and returns some time later carrying a mysterious comforter.
"Is that clean?" I ask with distain.
"I have no idea," he says. "It was on the floor".
"Um..."
"Okay, Heather --" he begins, "Last I knew this comforter was taken off our bed because we just wanted to change it after a few weeks of use. Not because it had been peed on, shat on, puked on or cum on. Like all our other blankets were. In large quantities." He flicked it out onto the bed. "This one wins."
Earlier, Tempest said her neck hurt and asked me if she could use the, "Little pink back massager".
"I don't have a back massager."
"The one in your bedroom drawer, mommy!"
... oh. Right. The 'back massager'.
No sweetie and please stay out of mommy and daddy's special drawer.
I'm so proud of all we've done with the kids' room and the house this last week, I feel like showing off. Except no one gives a care except us, which just leaves me feeling empty. Drat.
Regardless, we have done a ton of work. The house is starting to look like an adult's home instead of a home infested with children. There are no longer piles of toys all over the livingroom, puzzle pieces stuffed in corners and cars all over the floor just waiting to be slipped on. We have an entire bookshelf to ourselves - full of books! No toys! We managed to clear Xan's clothes out of our room, as well. The difference is incredible.
There's a certain feeling of amazement when you reclaim your living space as "toy free". I don't think we've had a room that looked like this since we were married.
It suddenly made me realize that we've never spent a night away from the kids since Tempest was born. Seven and a half years. One of these days we need a trusted overnight babysitter (and a bunch of money) and have an honest-to-god date night.
We're alarmingly short on money for the holidays, so there's been a mad dash to the finish line to find some gifts for the family. Getting my brother to go halfsies on an expensive gift for mom was no problem, as he's always trying to edge his way into doing that with me seeing as he can't admit he doesn't spend enough time with her to have any clue what she wants.
I'm getting her two things: a thorough maid service that will deep clean and help her organize her place from top to bottom, and a spa day with massage and aromatherapy, et all. None of this is paid for yet, as it's by far the most expensive. We're working on it.
Brother emailed me and asked if I can take a picture of us together seeing as the last professional image we have of the two of us was from Christmas of 1990. I guess that's his gift.
Curtis and I don't often do major gifts for each other, so I'm getting a bunch of cool plugs (ears) and then planning on a frazzled last minute search for something more appropriate. His birthday is the day before Yule and we're going out to dinner together using his credit for a free evening that he gets as an employee of the hotel/restaurant. It's half cheap (Because we can't afford a nice dinner) and half nice (because it is the best hotel in the city and their kitchen is top rated). However, it does get weird when every little waitress comes by to be cute and say hello when we're trying to have a romantic evening.
(Curtis is forever the "relationship guy" wherever he goes because his workmates always think he's gay - so his female coworkers are always taking him aside and crying about their boyfriends, asking for advice... he becomes that safety guy that they all want to talk to. I find this hilarious because he is the least likely person to give advice, is painfully shy, and always ends up coming home looking like a lost puppy.)
Tempest is getting a really lovely Berenguer baby doll with a crafted doll bed and stroller; complete with clothes and bedding that we're making from crochet and knit projects. Curtis is doing the blanket now.
Xan... we're still not sure on. You'd think he'd be easy but he's not.
Tempest and Xan together are getting an Invent-a-Tent set. I am so freaking excited about it. Dad is also making them a bunk bed with built in shelving.
Marika has a beautiful piece of custom-made jewelry and some books, but I'd still like to get her more.
At the same time I'm attempting to knit two bags and a few pairs of socks as additional gifts. This is not going well.
The last major obstacle are the stocking stuffers and little things. In our family it's tradition to stuff the stockings with a lot of stupid toiletries (mini shampoos, samples, tissue paper, et all) along with silly toys and candy like Jacob's ladder, Terry Chocolate Orange, those little pocket mazes with the tiny sliver balls...
Mom used to hit Chinatown for this stuff and come back with buckets of random stuff.
I'm so out of sorts for the holidays. Even though I'm having an easier time in some ways, in others it feels a little like my perfectly sealed bucket of mental health is starting to spring leaks. I spent most of yesterday and today paralyzed with mysterious panic attacks that seemed to have absolutely no trigger at all. No amount of self-searching is leading me to find any reason other than, "Gee, it must be the holidays".
At the very least, the mania is making me creative: I've stayed up all night long the last week to edit a huge amount of client sessions, written lists of inspirational business notes, ideas, and started revamping my marketing for the new year.
Some more client pictures. ( Read more... )
Links of the day:
Twilight, Disney and the purity myth - a very interesting (if too short!) essay on the obsession of virginity, and how it subjugates (young) women's sexuality.
"I don't have a back massager."
"The one in your bedroom drawer, mommy!"
... oh. Right. The 'back massager'.
No sweetie and please stay out of mommy and daddy's special drawer.
I'm so proud of all we've done with the kids' room and the house this last week, I feel like showing off. Except no one gives a care except us, which just leaves me feeling empty. Drat.
Regardless, we have done a ton of work. The house is starting to look like an adult's home instead of a home infested with children. There are no longer piles of toys all over the livingroom, puzzle pieces stuffed in corners and cars all over the floor just waiting to be slipped on. We have an entire bookshelf to ourselves - full of books! No toys! We managed to clear Xan's clothes out of our room, as well. The difference is incredible.
There's a certain feeling of amazement when you reclaim your living space as "toy free". I don't think we've had a room that looked like this since we were married.
It suddenly made me realize that we've never spent a night away from the kids since Tempest was born. Seven and a half years. One of these days we need a trusted overnight babysitter (and a bunch of money) and have an honest-to-god date night.
We're alarmingly short on money for the holidays, so there's been a mad dash to the finish line to find some gifts for the family. Getting my brother to go halfsies on an expensive gift for mom was no problem, as he's always trying to edge his way into doing that with me seeing as he can't admit he doesn't spend enough time with her to have any clue what she wants.
I'm getting her two things: a thorough maid service that will deep clean and help her organize her place from top to bottom, and a spa day with massage and aromatherapy, et all. None of this is paid for yet, as it's by far the most expensive. We're working on it.
Brother emailed me and asked if I can take a picture of us together seeing as the last professional image we have of the two of us was from Christmas of 1990. I guess that's his gift.
Curtis and I don't often do major gifts for each other, so I'm getting a bunch of cool plugs (ears) and then planning on a frazzled last minute search for something more appropriate. His birthday is the day before Yule and we're going out to dinner together using his credit for a free evening that he gets as an employee of the hotel/restaurant. It's half cheap (Because we can't afford a nice dinner) and half nice (because it is the best hotel in the city and their kitchen is top rated). However, it does get weird when every little waitress comes by to be cute and say hello when we're trying to have a romantic evening.
(Curtis is forever the "relationship guy" wherever he goes because his workmates always think he's gay - so his female coworkers are always taking him aside and crying about their boyfriends, asking for advice... he becomes that safety guy that they all want to talk to. I find this hilarious because he is the least likely person to give advice, is painfully shy, and always ends up coming home looking like a lost puppy.)
Tempest is getting a really lovely Berenguer baby doll with a crafted doll bed and stroller; complete with clothes and bedding that we're making from crochet and knit projects. Curtis is doing the blanket now.
Xan... we're still not sure on. You'd think he'd be easy but he's not.
Tempest and Xan together are getting an Invent-a-Tent set. I am so freaking excited about it. Dad is also making them a bunk bed with built in shelving.
Marika has a beautiful piece of custom-made jewelry and some books, but I'd still like to get her more.
At the same time I'm attempting to knit two bags and a few pairs of socks as additional gifts. This is not going well.
The last major obstacle are the stocking stuffers and little things. In our family it's tradition to stuff the stockings with a lot of stupid toiletries (mini shampoos, samples, tissue paper, et all) along with silly toys and candy like Jacob's ladder, Terry Chocolate Orange, those little pocket mazes with the tiny sliver balls...
Mom used to hit Chinatown for this stuff and come back with buckets of random stuff.
I'm so out of sorts for the holidays. Even though I'm having an easier time in some ways, in others it feels a little like my perfectly sealed bucket of mental health is starting to spring leaks. I spent most of yesterday and today paralyzed with mysterious panic attacks that seemed to have absolutely no trigger at all. No amount of self-searching is leading me to find any reason other than, "Gee, it must be the holidays".
At the very least, the mania is making me creative: I've stayed up all night long the last week to edit a huge amount of client sessions, written lists of inspirational business notes, ideas, and started revamping my marketing for the new year.
Some more client pictures. ( Read more... )
Links of the day:
Twilight, Disney and the purity myth - a very interesting (if too short!) essay on the obsession of virginity, and how it subjugates (young) women's sexuality.