Wrap your head with this material...

This morning I woke up fine. I showered and did all my boring morning crap. Including starting laundry. And for some reason, as the my to do list got lighter, the rest of me felt heavier. Heavier and sadder and sadder. Inexplicably sad. Some mornings are just like that though. They come with a heaviness of immobility. A desire to just sit there. Inside the sadness. Let it engulf you and let the tears come. But then I got up and saw a picture of a friend's baby in our papasan chair. And I thought of all the places that papasan has lived. I got it free from a boss I had when I moved into my first apartment. Something like 10 years ago. When we first got it, we had no cushion for it. So as we unpacked, it collected newspaper and tissues and other crap and that's what we sat on. Until a friend gave us a real cushion. Which years later got pretty much destroyed by a cat I had. And then it had no cushion again. Until we got one with a gift certificate when Rob and ...

My husband sings this song to the baby all the time with the modified lyric of "and would you cry, if I stole your pacifier?" You don't have to listen to the whole song, this is just to get you the right tune. In other news, here's Magnus at Halloween. Ridiculous, how fun it is to dress up a baby for that holiday. This is what he wore underneath the pea pod It glowed in the dark, a fact I noticed in the middle of the night when I got up to feed him and saw that he'd gotten a glowing arm out of his swaddle.

I couldn't come out for National Coming Out Day. You know, because I'm not gay. I like ladies. Just not their lady parts. Well, boobs are nice. Everyone likes boobs. Anyway, I did get a pink triangle rattle, which we've dubbed the gay pride toy for Magnus. Oh and name him after his gay grandad. So I guess that was good. Anyone notice that National Coming Out Day was the same day as Columbus Day. That makes me happy. Because I think it would make him turn over in his angry whiteman grave to know that homosexuality is accepted and welcomed on his day. Because Columbus was a douche. Which reminds me of that time in Chile when my homework was about Christopher Columbus but I didn't know his name was Colon in Spanish so I wrote a sentence about the colon. Ha ha, what a douche. When you're on maternity leave, is it like vacation where if you want a beer at an odd time of day, say like 2 pm, you just have it? How about just because its Tuesday? I didn't ...

See how puffy my face was? I thought the swelling had gone DOWN. I forgot what my own face looked like. But who the hell cares when this is what you're holding. Rob and Swedish Magnificence. This is how the midwives weighed him. I had asked folks to send candles with positive thoughts/prayers/meditations/intentions/energy for the birth. I got candles from all over. So Saturday we had birthday cake with some friends and lit all the candles in celebration of Magnus's healthy and safe arrival. I can't thank everyone enough for all the support. It just doesn't get any sweeter than this.

Know what's awesome about birthdays? Um, everything. I went for a morning swim today. For my birthday, I allowed myself to be late to work and staff meeting so that I could be weightless and wonderful for a half an hour. It was worth it. I thought about all the birthdays I've swam on. Which is most of them. (My birthday's at the end of freakin July. Its hot. And I love swimming.) The year I swam hard and fast laps in St. Louis before I ended up getting drunk enough to ask my husband out. Before he was my husband I mean. Before he was anything but my friend. And being my friend was huge. But friend crushes are scary. I remember I heard a song in the gym pool that morning that made me think of him. I had planned to out myself and my crush and the morning swim helped me fortify myself in my plan. Or the years when I was a kid and would go to the town pool. I remembered the year I went with girlfriends to a water park. Its been a lot of good birthdays. I have s...

Know that scene where the Grinch's heart grows 3 times its size? That's what my belly did this month. Its obscene. My mom took one look at me and said she wasn't this big when she had my brother. Which is frightening since I'm not due until 9/9. Come to think of it, the grinch has a decidedly round belly. Wonder if that's what made his heart grow? Having to pump a shit-ton of blood to something taking over his abdomen. Oh well, at least I'm enjoying mine. Mine moves. My dad felt it today. Happy Father's Day!

Last night my husband decided it would be funny to call me a snuggle whore. I was all, "Did you just call me a whore?" And he was like "A snuggle whore." "So, you're seriously calling your 6 month pregnant wife a whore?" Then he looked even more pleased with himself and has now decided to call me a "pregnant, snuggle whore." Speaking of whores, when I was a kid they were everywhere. Gypsy whores specifically. I don't know where my mother and grandmother's obsession with gypsy whores came from, but it was the reason to tone down your fashion a lot. As in, you can't wear dangly earrings (my favorite to this day) because those are for Gypsy whores. As in, little girls shouldn't have red nailish polish because they'll look like Gypsy whores. As in, red and pink or red and purple don't match and if you wear that outfit you'll look like a gypsy whore. As in, Gypsy whore bath, which is where you take a bird bath in the s...

I bought my dad a robe for Christmas. It was the softest, warmest, snuggliest robe I could find. My dad lives in his robe. He just retired. He'll be living in his robe even more. Not in a crazy, don't-do-anything-but-crosswords-and-yell-at-the-neighborkids sort of a way. Just in a finally-have-some-time-at-home-after-travelling-nonstop-for-the-last-15-years way. As a little girl, I remember my dad would always make dinner, clean up, and change into his robe. We'd all go downstairs to play or draw or whatever and my dad would settle in to watch TV. Some nights, he'd make popcorn and I'd snuggle into the side of him. It was the best feeling in the whole world. It didn't matter what we watched. (Except the news. Or football. Those were not snuggling up programs. Those were stay-out-of-dad's-way-while-he-yells-at-the-TV shows.) I'm a little hyphen-happy in this post-for-some-reason. So anyway, I found this super snuggly robe and bought it for my dad. I w...

I just slid across my kitchen floor in stockingfeet. I love sliding. If I'm walking and there's snow or ice on the ground, I will take a few hurried steps, rushing into a slide. The only thing better is when there's that skin of frozen that you can jump on and crunch beneath your feet. Oh, and crunchy, squeaky snow under sneakers: the really cold kind. In my first apartment, my roommate and I pledged all the floors and wouldn't let people wear shoes. I loved skidding across that floor. I remember sitting on a pillow and her pushing me around from room to room like a hockey puck. It was hard to stay on the pillow but worth it if you managed it. But nothing but nothing is better than sliding on snow. So I'm off to ski. Cross country that is. Too crowded for downhill today. Downhill'll wait till tomorrow. Nice and early. And on new snow. Happy New Year to you and yours. I hope you remember the little things you love, spend lots of time with people you l...

So I was talking to my father-in-law the other morning over breakfast about the insane level of rednecks living in his area. Aside from a love of burning things in his yard, he's very NOT rednecky. Anyway, we were talking about the "these colors DO NOT RUN!" and "Palin" and other eagle/flag related stickers that are more prevalent than liquor stores in the ghetto when he told me about the newest in Redneck Halloween trends. Pumpkin throwing. You can just throw regular, or shot put style or OR you can use the catapult. Yup, I said catapult. First reaction: AWESOME. I want to do this. How fun would it be to catapult a pumpkin and watch it smash against a target or a building or a truck with a fucking Palin/Eagle decal on the back window! Second reaction: There are people starving in the world and we THROW. OUR. FOOD. In your face, starving children! *hang head* That said, I'd want a slingshot. But not like this guy. He seems like if he lets go, he'll be e...

Really? I have to do this? The whole what'reyouthankfulfor? Fine, but I'm not going to like it. Here goes. Every year on Thanksgiving I go for a run. Always by myself, and always a wonderful introspective full lunged run. I love it. So I'll start there. My nephew, Collin and really my entire family of in-laws. A girl just can't get luckier. They let me cuss and be obnoxious and weird and have my wedding my weird way and be a ski bum or a writer or a delinquent or a teacher or a social worker and not only accept me but seem to like and be proud of my quirks. But back to my nephew. My family's all girls. And I'm a busy girl. I like to run and play and rough house. He does too. We went to the City Museum yesterday and played and chased and ran ragged. I'm glad I get to have a relationship with him where we do that. Get each other. His dad and my husband stood around holding coats and meeting up when and where we were supposed to. I'm thankful for them doin...

If yous been wondering, I am hiding. Shhhh.... Rob and Karin took me to Utah and as I got closer to my home, I became very homesick. I missed my wives and my prophet. But then those bendejos turned north and I never got to visit my families. I sought comfort in food But that got me in trouble. Banished, I turned away from the path of righteousness and meat. I drank and sponsored others' as well. The path became unclear and before I knew it, I saw death in every corner. But especially in the upper right hand corner. I found out what it felt like to be upside down in your mortgage... I did things I'm not proud of That was when I decided it was time to go into hiding. To search out the path of righteousness and meat again. To be continued...

My mom has this really weird friend who acts super tweaked out and really she probably is, but also she's just weird. This is the series of things she put together to give my mom for a 60th birthday present. Also, the dumb meth head was in front of the restaurant waving wildly when we arrived for my mom's SURPRISE 60th birthday party. Dumb bitch. So even if she weren't weird, I'd probably find a way to work her over on my blog. Since she's weird though, it works out nicely. This is the hideous bag she gave my mom her birthday present in. Notice how stylishly he sports it with a kitten inside. Did I mention he knows how to keep the cat in the bag, even if the crazy meth lady doesn't? Not one Not two But four Calendars in the Christmeth present bag Don't forget the sea salt, And my mom's house key back Just cuz. Making her this week's Wednesdays Weirdo: Christmeth Present Giver

So at Christmas with my in-laws we played Dirty Santa/White Elephant/Screw Your Neighbor... wait, scratch that last one, that's a drinking game. The present I ended up with, was a 3 foot tall, skinny, glass vase. I had no way to get it home, even if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to. Instead, I decided we should put beer in it. This seemed totally appropriate at the time. I started us off. Then Rob got into the game. (Sorry for the blur. All technology hates me and I am incapable of buying a decent piece of anything but shit.) Finally, my mother-in-law, Sheila, proved once again, how freakin' rockin' cool she is. You didn't know it at the time, but this was your elementary school counselor. Or could've been, if you were lucky. I love Christmas with the In-Laws

I promise I will post Wednesdays' Weirdos again next week, but the pictures for this week got trapped on my camera with a dead battery. Sorry. I suck. Instead I'll tell you a drinking story. We were in St. Louis visiting for the holidays and a rare opportunity to get annihilated with my girlfriends presented itself. I started out with two beers while I was waiting for the girls with Rob's friends. Then, when we got to the fancy-pants bar I switched to whiskey on the rocks. I'm at sea level so I think I can drink like a champ. Hmmm. After about three of these and I-don't-remember-how-many shots, I switched back to beer. Damn, I'm bright. At some point in the evening I realize that we're in a bar that used to be my favorite bar in the whole world. It was called Tangerine then. They had Go Go dancers on the bar and let you climb on it and had hand shaped chairs so your butt got held. They had trucker night where you got your drinks in mugs. They ha...

I can't sleep My mind won't Sshhhhhh... It flits from problem to solution thoughts' corpses pile up ideas dismissed and dead to-do lists and inspirations alike layered, litter the same p i l e . Some flicker so shortly they're hardly formed before miscarried away. The best poems' lines d r i f t by in invisible ink. They float off to dreams to die, beautiful thoughts stolen away. The night nabs it all Takes my broken to-do list and why do I not shake its hand? when I wake to a blank day, why am I not grateful when the clock crows "Merry Christmas" and the phone rings says "I fixed your list! It just needed some fleshing out and more time." Instead, I stuff the pillow over my head and look for the snooze button.

Yeah Presents!!! Merry Playing Why yes, yes I am a fantastic wife. Feliz Navidad AND HAPPY SKIING!! (Aren't those the baddest ass, most sexiest skis you've ever SEEN!!!!) Look how bad they want to be on my feet. Yes, I am a snowtard.

The last day of the camping trip, right as we were getting ready to leave, I walked up and said, "Hey Dean wanna hear something funny?" "Karin, I'm so ready for your something funny." "Check out my pants. They were Kelley's. She wore them as jeans." I laughed. (Kelley's 4'11", thus the funniness.) Then came his monumentally stupid response. "What were those her maternity pants or something." He said chuckling. "JESUS DEAN! Why don't you just kick in the face and call me a fatass." These are the pants. Ha ha, Kelly wore those as pants. And I am clearly not fat. So there must be another explanation for the astronomical level of stupidity of that comment. Who fucking says that? I back tracked in my mind and began to piece together the previous 24 hours of Dean's. I remembered the hornet's nest and how the boys had thought it was a good idea to throw rocks at it. Then, I surv...

Friday, July 4th we flew to St. Louis. Our plane began its descent about 9:15, just after sundown, when everyone set off their fireworks. We saw pockets of fireworks all over the city. They poofed apart in little confetti bursts for forty minutes before we landed. No crowds, no traffic, just quiet firework bellies and a smooth, smooth landing. Wonderful.

So when my brother was in high school he and a friend wondered aloud about Flag day, a day marked only in name on the calendar, celebrated by none. Unless... So they started celebrating Flag Day by eating burritos, drinking beer, and most importantly watching B movies. Over the years they have honed their flag-day-movie-detection-skills. And this year, well... *tears* it was so special. Matthew prepared my niece Linnea well. Matt "What does a doggie say?" Linnea "Woof" Matt "What does a lion say?" Linnea "Roar" Matt "What does a gramma say?" Linnea "Yes" Matt "What does a Buddhist say?" Linnea "Namaste" Matt "What does a zombie say?" Linnea "Brains" Excellent! But don't worry, she spent the day with a far safer, less gore-obsessed person, her mom. In addition to preparing Linnea for the event, he prepared the man-basement. He added an extra couch an...