Because it can produce a few notes, tho they are very flat; and it is nevar put with the wrong end in front!. Lewis Carroll.
Because it’s satisfying to be in the presence of both. Me.
I have the use of a lovely antique writing desk thanks to my parents. It’s a happy little desk, about three feet wide, with a fold out writing surface, spindly long legs, and a number of little nooks and crannies within it for my ink and pens. It inspires correspondence and brings a sense of peace to me when I sit down to it of a morning. I have paired it with an antique wooden chair with a soft cushion on it and it sits beside my bed providing constant temptation for letter writing.
So if you want a letter, send your address to email@example.com.
Two years (and a day) ago Otter entered the world after a glorious, and screamy, natural birth. I will never forget waking up that morning, about 5:30 a.m. with the feeling that this time the contractions were different. I sat on the bed watching the light begin to filter through the little wholes left by the lace pattern in my curtains and listening to my husband snore as they got stronger and stronger. Finally, around 6:30 a.m., I woke Lee up and told him it was time. He, very sensibly, suggested we go back to sleep for a while, but really, there was no way that was happening.
We got up, called the doctor, and went in to see him before I even got a solid breakfast under my lack of a belt. He checked me out and encouraged me to go to the hospital. I calmly explained that we were going to go home and walk around for a while first, because I wanted to be home as long as possible, per my doula’s instructions. He encouraged me to go to the hospital. I told him I would begin to head over there after I had a nice leisurely breakfast with my family, so I had the energy to sustain my labor. He told to me go the the hospital right away.We left his office around 8 a.m.
We began to head over, and halfway there my contractions had sped up to five minutes apart. By the time Lee got the birthing tub set up, they were under four. The hot water felt so good and relaxed me considerably. Over the next nine or so hours I spent most of my time listening to music, soaking in the tub, and dancing in the hallways with hubby as we waited for Otter to come. I stole some of his chinese beef sticks, drank some water, and got increasingly interested in what was happening “downstairs”.
Finally, I was sick of the tub, sick of the music, and generally sick of everyone, a clear indication it was time. I got up on the bed, and after a very long, to me anyway, period of time I managed to deliver an 11 pound, 6 ounce Otter. There was screaming and cursing and breathing, requests to turn on/up/off the music, and one awful moment when the urge to push stopped just as he was crowning, making me completely aware of exactly how much my body was going through. There was also this absolute certainty that every woman who had birthed a child before me was lined up behind me, stretching back to the first mother, urging me on. All my ancestors, all my sisters, all the women in time. I let go in that moment, felt lifted beyond my stressed out body and pain, and out he came. He was born a little after 5:30 p.m., twelve hours after I began to suspect his imminent arrival.
When they put him on my stomach I “oof’d” just a little at his weight. I remember thinking what a solid little guy he was. He didn’t have piles of babyfat, like he would develop later, but seemed to be all strength and muscle. A little man on my tummy, purple and wrinkly, waiting for his blood flow to pink him up. We got to cuddle for over an hour while they cleaned us up, then he was wheeled away for baby testing stuff and I was wheeled away for a shower, a meal, and recovery. Lee, bless his heart, was left to clean up the birthing tub.
Another memory of that day, clear as glass, is our first night together. Lee had taken Marlena home and Otter and I were in the hospital room, each in our little bed, side by side. I could look between the handles on my bed and see into his cradle. We lay there for hours, staring at each other through the glass, hand in hand, simply gazing. I fell in love.
Now, this little man is two years old. He can sign in full sentences, having decided that speaking, though possible, isn’t nearly as cute and effective as sign. He can eat perfectly with a fork and spoon, knows how to work the remotes on the Apple TV, and loves anything with buttons. He is a vendor of kisses, and will sweetly pat me on the head when he hugs me, just to tell me how much he cares. We celebrated his birth with a few family and friends, a strawberry vanilla layer cake, a balloon forest, and a ball pit. (Oh yeah, and I spiked the grown up’s punch.)
There were so many wonderful people there, and I have about 200 pictures of the blessed event, but as time and interest are in short supply, you get the above! It was a successful party for my little man, so much bigger than he was two years ago. I am so pleased to have him here with me, as his innate sweetness brightens up even my hardest hours. Before I had him, I couldn’t imaging sharing my life with any child other than Monkey, now that he is here, I feel as though our family has been made complete.
Seriously, may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your genitalia forever, OU-fucking-CH!!
This morning, when I managed to dislocate my pinky toe on the doorjamb to my bathroom, I hopped about with my foot in my hands cursing a blue streak, once I got my breath back sufficient to form curses. It came out of no where, that doorjamb, I was minding my own slightly hungover business when SLAM!, that fucking doorjamb jumped right in front of my foot.
After two hours of intense, it goes to 11, pain I went to the ER and was subjected to x-rays from a very apologetic tech. At some point during the trip to the ER the toe was relocated somehow, reducing the pain to about a 4, and leaving behind swelling and bruising. So I get tape, and a very fashionable shoe, for a week.
Thanks a lot doorjamb, see if you get anything in your stocking this year!!
What a way to start year 33!
Last night, which we shall call pre-toe dislocation, was wonderful though. I got to celebrate my birth with many lovely friends at the Rock Bottom Brewery, as the bar I had chosen has been closed for renovations for about three months. (oops.) I was gifted with chocolate, beer, shirts, lotions, motherpucker lip gloss, garden grown squash, and handmade cards. Best of all I was gifted with time. Many of the people I love took the time to come and toss back a drink with me. Given how busy everyone is, I count myself blessed beyond imagination. We tossed a few bucks in the jukebox (okay, the computerized music player) and danced between pool tables to some old school hits, we reminisced about parties we enjoyed over 17 years ago, and we made fun of Sarah Palin (the ultimate liberal party game. Come to think of it, the ultimate anyone’s party game.)
I even got to hang all night with Coni, who had just finished her national exams and needed to unwind. It was a true gift, as she and I hadn’t had the time to swill away an evening together in over a decade. An hour or two a month at the most, that has been our time for each other over the years as work, school, and family filled in the spaces between dawn and dusk. Last night I got her for 5 hours. It was awesome.
I think I have throughly celebrated my palindromic birthday. I look forward to the year to come.
I find this holiday t’ be one o’ th’ silliest in existence, which makes it by far one o’ th’ best.
So, may ye ‘ave th’ chance t’ drink, be merry, ‘n make someone who annoys ye walk th’ plank!
Happily, Otter nodded off better last night, so I snored meself some too. Thank ye all fer yer suggestions. I shall ‘ave t’ ponder th’ various options ‘n choose wha’ seems right fer us. He be teethin’ right now so me hopes ’tis a situational thin’, nah a habitual thin’.
On a funny note, Tailed imp (Monkey) ‘n I played school today. Th’ name she choose for teacher wa’ Miss Triss. Tee hee…. I had a really hard time keepin’ a straight face whilst we played. “Miss Triss? May I be usin’ the outhouse?”
Well, I be off t’ cook grub for me shipmates, a pirates work in the galley is never done!! Toss back some grog fer me!!
You know that point in character creation when the very patient person helping you create a new player character says “Now the only thing that’s left is for you to draw your character!!”?
Well, historically I hate that point, mainly because I can’t draw. At all. However I love being original, so I don’t like to just go online and get a picture for my character. I want my own!! In the past I have rendered sad little sketches of 2 dimensional creatures. (Okay, mostly elves.)
This time around I used Photoshop to render a Tiefling version of myself. Might as well be me, even when I am not being me. This is the result:
Note the horns, and the funky forhead, and the eyebrow and nose modifications. Don’t forget to look closely at the eyes either, they have been altered in shape and color to better “creepify” my character. I have to say, I had so much fun rendering this image that I am tempted to offer similar work up to the other players.
I love photoshop! For the first time ever, I have a really cool character image to go with my really cool character! (Okay, it’s 1st level and I will likely die soon, but hey! Another chance to make another picture!!)
…instead of getting more resumes onto the desks of overwhelmed HR personnel whose first reaction will be to scream and shove my resume into the circular file!!
I am up playing World of Warcraft.
(Okay, it’s only one of my addictions, I spent some part of the day organizing the gallery page on my blog and photo shopping all the pictures I want to put on the gallery page. Blogging and Photography are two more of my addictions. It’s a long list.)
But still… here I am, at 11 p.m., running through Dustwallow Marsh in Kalimdor on the back of my striped kitty steed. (Can a kitty be a steed?)
It’s only been 5 months since I last logged on to play! (Sadly, I am not exaggerating. Boy I’m getting a lot out of that $14.95 a month!!)
I am hunting firey dragonkin, and helping an ogre revenge his slaughtered clan.
Clearly this is more important than performing another job search.
Managing life with chronic illness requires savvy spoons