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Thursday, March 27th, 2008
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If there was one thing I might want to say to Thomas Beatie it would be: come to Portland. It is by no means a utopia, but dude, if you want people to shrug their shoulders and say "Oh, cool" it's either here or Olympia, WA. I know my GYOBN would love to have you as a patient. Also, don't believe all those people who seem agast that you would alter your body so drastically to have a baby. Women have been fucking with hormones and risking all sorts of nasty outcomes in an effort to reproduce, and that has nothing to do with being female. How many fathers have risked their health for the well-being of their children? So, If you get sick of all the people who tell you that you should be acting like a women because you are pregnant you just give them my information and I'll hand them all the gender books I have so they can finally get past the boobies-mean-girl and pee-pee-means-boy mentality. I'm a pain in the ass, I'll get through to them.
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Thursday, April 12th, 2007
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"And of course literature is the only art that requires our audience to be performers. You have to able to read and you have to be able to ready awfully well. You have to to read so well that you get irony! I'll say one thing meaning another, and you'll get it. Expecting a large number of people to be literate is like expecting everybody to play the French Horn. It is extremely difficult. And as I've said in this book here [Timequake], when we think about what reading is...it's impossible. Literature is idiosyncratic arrangements in horizontal lines of only twenty-six phonetic symbols, ten Arabic numbers, and about eight punctuation marks. And yet there are people like you who can look at a printed page and put on show in your head-- the battle of Waterloo, for God's sake-- The New York Times says that there are forty million people in the United States who can't read well enough to fill out an application for a driver's license. So our audience cannot be large, because we need a highly skilled audience, unbelievable skilled....Thank you for learning how to do this virtually impossible thing."
-Kurt Vonnegut Jr. November 11, 1922 - April 11, 2007
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Friday, January 5th, 2007
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Today has been full of good stuff except that two minutes ago I dropped a glass, dove to retrieve it, and jammed my finger in a slightly open cabinet door. The result is pretty bloody and pretty bloody painful.
This morning I was extremely glad to get back to work. The Larsons brought me presents from Mexico and I got two huge smiles and baby hugs* from Soren and London. At three I came home via the MAX and my own feet (I love how much walking I'm doing to and from work). Then I proceeded to do half an hour of yoga. I really need to start lifting weights if I'm going to be able to carry around two thirty-pound kids at once, but I'll start with yoga and work my way up. Just as I rolled up my mat I got a call from John's car insurance people saying they somehow finished fixing his poor little Honda days earlier than expected and he could go pick it up. I feel so lucky today, you know, except for that whole finger jamming thing, but if I got to pick where my luck ran out, I think my finger is the right choice.
* Similar to kid and adult hugs, except they include some face slapping and lots of drool.
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Wednesday, October 11th, 2006
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The largest selection of Rembrandts ever to come to the U.S. is stopping in Portland next Summer. I've been pretty ecstatic about this since my sister told me last week. Today I looked it up, though, and found out that they're only coming to three U.S. cities: Portland, OR; Phoenix, AZ; and Dayton, OH. What? Why isn't Chicago or New York interested? San Fransisco? What's going on? Of course I asked John what he thought and he said:
"Maybe Rembrandts have trans fats... or maybe Amsterdam refused to export the Rembrandts to NY, and now NY is looking into a large-scale suit against Amsterdam. Who knows?"
He's such a clever one.
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Tuesday, October 10th, 2006
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Oh, shut-the-fuck-up about your foie gras. If you can't live without it, then perhaps we should stick a tube down your throat and grow us a nice fat liver, so you won't suffer and we can give this delicacy at try. Eh?
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Friday, October 6th, 2006
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I biked to Goodwill. That was dumb. Do you know how hard it is to get two sweaters, a pair of boots, two very large books, and a sheet home with you on a bike? I had to buy a laundry basket and bungee cords. Then I got stuck on the North side of Portland because of all the construction on Sandy. It was ridiculous and a bit funny.
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Monday, September 25th, 2006
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John and I asked this question recently: Is it actually that common for people to yell out one another's names during sex? Are we (who think the last thing we want to think about in the moment is ourselves and our names) in the minority on this one?
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Monday, September 18th, 2006
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My presents:
* Mushrooms (Chicken of the Woods and Chanterelles)
* A colorful bug with a long stinger they found dead and stuck in a tree
* Various sparkly or deeply-red rocks
* Alaskan cedar bark (it's red and silver)
* Him, home, in our bed, warm, injured, extremely toned, tanned, and just as beautiful as he left me.
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Wednesday, September 13th, 2006
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Hey bookworms! Want to make a book last a long time? Like a really long time? Read it in a language you haven't been fluent in since the seventh grade! My brain is so tired already.
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Saturday, September 9th, 2006
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| Time: | 12:41 pm. |
| Mood: |  sad. |
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A week of silence, starting now.
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Wednesday, August 16th, 2006
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Guess what makes me smile today? This is what's on my screen at work!
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Monday, August 14th, 2006
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Do you know why twenty-one hours a week answering a phone seems like a great deal?
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Tuesday, August 1st, 2006
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So, I've been reading Chocolate & Zucchini a lot, and thought I might use it to brush up on my French, and I've been trying to read the comments. Of course, I have the vocabulary of a a fifteen month old...if that. This means that I've been looking things up a lot, but the problem is that slang is often absent from the dictionaries I can find online. I did manage to figure one out: Aprem. I looked and looked, but without success, so I had to sit there, rolling it aroud in my mouth until it hit me, "Apres-midi"! Afternoon. Aprem would be a perfect way to say afternoon quickly, and the French are all about shortening their words.
First French lesson word is....
Aprem: A shortened version of Afternoon, "Apres-midi". It is an "apocope", a shortening or abbreviating of a word by ommiting the last portion.
I would like to keep posting my french slang finds...anyone else interested?
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I like to type "kittens" into the search engine of the free section on Craigslist and then look at pictures of all of them. We are in no positions to get a cat (or two), but I just about explode with cuteness that I find there. Oh, man. I've showed John this strange habit, but all he says is: "You are such a girl". Yup.
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Wednesday, July 19th, 2006
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Israel: Lebanon hit me first!
Lebanon: No, I didn't. Look, there's nothing in this hand.
Israel: You're hiding it behind your back with Iran!
Lebanon: I don't know what you're talking about...but Israel stole land from my friends!
Israel: Yeah, well, we didn't have a country...and we wanted one. I'm going to bomb the shit out of you! Neener, neener, neener.
US: Um, we're neutral in this, but Israel and Lebanon should really stop, uh, bombing people. Yeah, especially our people, and, uh, we should get our people out. Uh, yeah, so stop fighting, you two...um, where do you keep your oil?
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Let me tell you about my day. Ellen, Desiree, Nathan, Karen, and John. Dusty fields, cowgirl hats, tiny frogs, warm breezes, and berries. Lots of berries. And happiness. Lots of happiness.
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You know what I find really irritating? I'll tell you: When a quiz about body image uses pictures of really thin women in the results page. I can recognize when I'm being pandered to by stupid influences. Also, I recognize that I find plus size models much more attractive than the clothes-hanger variety, and thus do not agree with the voices that scream at me from magazine pages. It still pisses me off, though, that they can tell me I've probably got a "rockin'" body, and then put a skinny stomach up in front of me. Because, guys, that does not look like my stomach. Just so you know, this rockin' body is a bit more flared, flushed out, and going off to eat ice cream (and yes a bit in protest).
| Your Body Image is 36% Unhealthy, 64% Healthy | 
You're body image is quite healthy, though you're sometimes a little bit too hard on yourself.
Chances are you've got a rockin' body - so enjoy it! |
By the way, I'm healing quickly from the mouth surgery. My swelling (and pain) peaked yesterday and now things are just getting better and better.
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So, at eleven this morning I got my wisdom teeth pulled. Both John and I remember during my consultation that the doctor said John could be in the room, which was a relief since I have this phobia about being under anesthesia. But of course, when we got there this morning they said he definitely could not come into the room. I bawled. They took me back to the surgery room, which did indeed look like a torture chamber. They set me up to the IV, talked me through how it was going to feel and then I woke up, screaming, and crying, in a wheelchair. I breathed through a paper bag, and they walked me out to the car, where John was waiting. I cried almost the whole way home. I fell into bed, relaxed, and we napped a bit. I have eaten yogurt, two otter pops, and some mashed potatoes, next I'm going to try the cream of broccoli soup I made yesterday. I talked to my mom on the phone around six and she was amazed that I was cognizant and that I remember every moment after waking up from the anesthesia. Apparently, it's genetic. She's woken up in the middle of every surgery she's had (3).
Overall, I'm feeling pretty damn good, but we'll see how sore I am tomorrow. John's taking excellent care of me. Also, I took a picture to share just how swollen my face is (note: the right side is so much more swollen than the left).
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Otter pops take too long to freeze!
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Saturday night, while visiting John's mom, we heard the news that Duckie, a sweet, fluffly, squeeky, little cat was hit by a car and died. I miss that cat. She and her sister, Rhea (who were inseparable at times) are probably the most mellow, loving, and fun felines I've ever met in my life. They have always been cuddly, and talkative, and playful. Becca, they're caretaker, has been receiving calls ever since it happened by distressed friends who are in tears over Duckie's death. I'm telling you that cat fucking rocked.
Saturday night Becca stayed up making a video montage for Duckie. And I love it so much, I decided to post it here.
I hate it when pets go, but even more I hate it when there's one left behind who's lonely. I hope we can fill that gap for Rhea.
This is a picture of John with Duckie taken this winter, click on it and you will be sent to YouTube to view the montage:
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cranky_cakes's journal
chipper.
productive.
Overwhelmed with cuteness.
frustrated.