Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

It is 12:31 am....

and I am happy to report I shamed Alice into drinking with me.

shamed her.

And we met a nice person (a local, Logan will be happy to know and it was a much better interaction with a local than this interaction I had the other day. eeeks. Stupid Americans.)

And she took us to a couple of bars

I have pictures

but it's late and I have a lot to pack into the last two days of this trip. I can't believe how fast it goes.

Alice was so eager to prove me wrong about her ability to drink I fear I'll have to leave her here a gutter drunk and she'll be screaming at me, "I can so drink more than 1.5 beers you evil bitch!!!!"

And I will reply, "I don't speak what you're talking."

Really though, Alice realized my trick tonight. If you keep a nice flow of about one drink an hour, you just don't feel like going to bed at 9pm, you feel like staying up all night practicing hugs. I'm really not pushing her though anymore because I really am afraid she'll become like me and I'm not sure she wants to drink to drink that much.

Amsterdam is well known for it's tea choices you know.

For someone who has drank less and slept more than any other time in my life, I certainly am tired.

We're seeing all sorts of things. The museums, the canals, dog crap all over.

I dont' have time to write. I dropped Alice for her nap and headed out on my own for a while. For a suburban girl I'm fairly savvy about finding my way around, I'm impressed with me.

I have some flickr photos up for now and I hope to get some more writing done, maybe tonight while Alice has her tea after dinner and I wish for Logan to be here to head to bar so I can have nice loud conversations and people watching.

The amount I drink is of great interest to the Bradley's. Of course their sobriety is of great interest to me. I had three beers with dinner and the conversation somehow turned to how you can't tell when alcoholics are drunk. Hrm? I am afraid to tell them I can drink far more than that at playdate. I shudder to imagine the looks. Of course, let's hope Alice doesn't read this site until we're home.

Our vacation style in the recreation department are seriously mismatched, I make Alice feel like a teetotaler and I feel like a lush in comparison to Alice and her Dad.

I'm honestly amazed people live lives free of any alcohol, even on vacation. I'm stunned. Utterly stunned. I just don't even want to imagine a life like that. It makes me tear up.

Anyway here are the pictures and I've been keeping notes so I don't forget things. The hardest part about being here is wishing Logan was here with me. It's not that I just miss him, it's that he and I are perfectly matched in the recreation department. In fact if he could just fly over for dinner and drinks each night I think things would be perfect.

Unsolicited.

If you hate your face in general, you may not want to get a haircut less than 24 hours before you leave the country.

Also you may want to tell the nice man doing your hair cut you don't want it to be too, Dutch Boy, because you're going to Amsterdam, in the Netherlands, where they speak Dutch and God how cliche can one blogger be?

It appears that every human being in the world thinks that a 'Stacked Bob' is the most flattering cut for me. I hate the stacked bob more than makes sense.

I just hope Alice and her dad like the stacked bob.

The stupidity continues.

From the Free Press this morning.

L. Brooks Patterson is Oakland County Executive and he's like a politician with a blog who says whatever slips out of his mouth.

Yesterday he said a couple of things which made me laugh (from the Free Press again).

"The people on this council belong in the zoo, not deciding the fate of the zoo."

Of course this comment has the city raging back calling Patterson a racist. Which isn't surprising since expecting the deeply in debt city to turn over operations to the state is called 'racist'.

Never mind that Patterson also said, "If they close the zoo," he said, "we've always got the Warren City Council." Ha! Warren is a predominantly white community so please give me an everloving break.

Council president replied today, "When Detroit is doing good, like the Super Bowl, everybody was rah, rah, rah. The minute that something happened that you don't agree with ... you want to put us in the zoo like monkeys. Well, we're not monkeys.""

Two things: Funny, the council was happy to accept whatever aid from whatever sources for the Superbowl and they never felt they were 'living on a plantation'.

L. Brooks Patterson said you belonged in the zoo, I'm not thinking like monkeys. I'm thinking more like stubborn mules. Do they have mules at the zoo? I propose we get them.

The race game continues to prevent the city and suburbs from cooperating. It's definitely an easy way out of actually dealing with issues.

Don't forget to sign the petition to keep the zoo open, you racist pigs. (You do realize if you question the city council's decisions or spending or anything at all you are a racist suburbanite.)

Tags: Detroit Zoo

Pre Trip thoughts.

Has anyone else pondered how ridiculous it is to send me to a foreign country considering I can't even make a phone call without intensive psychotherapy afterwards?

Have I mentioned how I've had two business calls and one conference call in the last two weeks? Of course I didn't, I've been in recovery since then.

I have so much advice from lovely Internet people about what to do while I'm there. I have the advice in an email folder.

Everytime I'm about to visit a city I'm unfamiliar with my head explodes because I can't even wrap my brain around a city where things are happening all over the place. I just can't even behold it. A place? Where things are happening? And the zoo isn't under threat of being closed because of some stupid city council people?

I just can't imagine it. Is this Disney World?

The advice I've gotten is so good. Not just the places to see but also the foods to eat. I loved the advice to look into the canal houses without shame. Also someone (thanks Amy!) suggested looking at the Hema store which is like Target because she likes to check out everyday life in the places she visits. She said this like it was a 'weird' thing.

(How awesome would it be if I could bring home a cake from Hema for Max. The robot one, no wait, the elephant! perfect.)(I just realized this is like Ikea....only target-ish. I died. I'm dead.) (Don't let me go to this place.)(Then again maybe I have to go to report for the Flog.)(I don't even know what this is but I need it.)(Never mind, don't let me in this place. Seriously.)

I do the same thing except that I end up missing a lot of cool thing while I try to 'fit in' in a city I can never quite get a grasp of. I won't make that mistake in Amsterdam but I have in other cities I've visited.

Sometimes the only way to 'see' a city you're not going to get back to for a very long time is to do the tourist thing. Which is why I am so pleased Alice is bringing her dad on this trip. He's got itineraries and a grasp on what order to do things, whereas I've looked at all the books from the library right before I fall asleep each night for the last two weeks. Then I dream I forgot my camera, which is remarkably upsetting.

There is something very stressful about this trip for me. When I get to do something Logan doesn't, like go to Vegas with friends, and I spend family money to do it I feel such intense pressure to have as much fun as possible. To make this trip worth every single penny: both the pennies from the Holland Board of Tourism and the pennies from our always shrinking savings account.

So here's to me not squandering our family's money and seeing and doing as much as I can in Amsterdam. Also here's to me not smoking pot while I'm with Alice because Alice is very, very funny.

I have smoked pot, maybe two handfuls of times. The one time it really hit me I could not stop laughing until I thought I'd lost my mind and had to go to bed to stop the laughing.

I fear the combination of pot and Alice would actually send me into a manic psychosis and I don't think I want to visit an Amsterdam mental hospital. I mean, ideally, I don't. Soaking in the locals way of life is one thing. Hanging out with the mentally ill: not all that appealing.

Detroit Zoo

My friend sent me an email this morning. The email said something....Zoo closing! Help!

I said, "oh foolish friends. Ron Kagan, director of the zoo, just sent an email and a newsletter telling me (personally. yes personally...) he's got it all under control. You see...the city realizes since it can't collect garbage in an effective manner, it obviously can't afford to run the Detroit Zoo. They're turning over operations to the state but the city will still hold onto the property and animals."

I was wrong.

I uh....just don't know what to say.

I'd hoped that by the time I wrote this I'd have a nice letter I put together about how it's a very bad idea to take away the zoo. Instead, in my email, I said things like, "Hey! What? Don't!"

Which is an incredibly effective method for getting people to listen to you. In case you wondered.

I'm posting this because I'm hoping someone out there has come up with a good letter to send to City Council.

You're going to go here and write a letter. I'm hoping you have soemthing better than I have to say.

If someone has a nice form letter, maybe a little more well formed than mine: "Hey! What? Don't!" please email me or post it in the comments.

This just can't happen. Can not happen. I wish I was smarter at times like this but I"m not, but maybe you can find some smarter people to talk about this with here.

Remember how I said I feel uneasy in this area? Because the automotive industry guides us and leads us into the lows with them? I just. This just doesn't help.

Technorati Tags: Detroit Zoo

I just don't know how you have any kind of meaningful dialogue about keeping a state resource open when you come up with this kind of utter bull shit.

"The symbolism is that Detroit is a black city and that we’re unable to govern ourselves. So we need an overseer, the state legislature, or what have you, to step in and tell us what we must do and how to do it … That is a racist attitude. I resent it very much. I’m trying not to let it color my judgments, but we’re not a plantation, blacks aren’t owned by white folks anymore …"

No one is saying that you short sighted, small minded idiot. THE CITY OF DETROIT IS IN DEBT. An estimated 169 MILLION DOLLARS WORTH. The city of Detroit DOES NOT HAVE THE FUCKING MONEY TO RUN THIS INSTITUTION.

You would rather shut down this state resource than admit your city is in over it's head? Because that's like saying you're on a plantation? YOU DON"T HAVE THE MONEY TO RUN THE FUCKING ZOO.

But when you face this kind of 'us' vs. 'them' mentality, I'm just not sure there is anyway to fix this.

We need out of this state.

Update: Thank you for the emails about this, here is a petition you can sign. Go ahead.

Madison Heights is dead to me.

Yesterday it was 50 degrees and very, very rainy. Logan had to go back to the office for a few hours after we got the kids to bed, so he took my car. My car was already running low on gas so I assumed he'd stop and put some in it before making the 30 mile round trip. But the wind was whipping cold rain all over the place by then and he was going to work at 8:45 and didn't get home until 11:30 (I know, man saving panties) and I'm sure he didn't want to leave me with no gas this morning.

This morning it was no longer spring in Michigan it was 20 degrees with that same wind which had been whipping rain around last night. Only it was daytime, I was wearing my short work out pants, no gloves or hat because I was racing to get my carpool kids to school.

I also didn't grab my phone on the way out the door.

You see where I'm going no?

I dropped the all the kids off, my gauge said I had 60 miles left, so I ran my errands, went to the gym and decided to swing by my house to get my hat and gloves so I could fill up the gas tank without freezing my hands off my body.

About 5 miles from my house, in Madison Heights (which is dead to me), surprise! No gas...when the digital gauge said I had 45 more. But I didn't because the car would not start again.

I sat for a minute and debated my options. Which were (since I didn't have my phone):
Walk the five miles to my house to call one of my girlfriends to help me.
Knock on some doors to see if anyone would let me use their phone.
Flag down a passerby (it was a relatively busy residential street) to borrow a cell phone.

I started to try to walk home, but about one block into the at least 32 block walk my ankles were freezing (I was wearing cropped workout pants and no socks), my ears were about to fall off and the hands in the pocket thing was not going to cut it in this hellish wind.

So I started back toward my car, stopping at doors along the way where cars were in the driveway. This neighborhood is not the 'nicest' area, but I chose 4 houses with cars in the driveways which looked the least like a banjo playing anal rapist lived there.

Not one person answered the fucking door.

I then turned on my hazard lights and began waving at people driving up and down the road. I did this for 40 minutes. I waved at at least 30 cars and not one of those people stopped to offer me any help. NOT A SINGLE PERSON. I am still just beyond awed.

I am a woman, in her 30's standing in workout clothes holding a Kate Spade bag outside a God damned minivan with it's hazards on in a no parking zone in 20 degree weather waving frantically at all the cars passing me and not one of you assholes could stop and offer me a little help? Couldn't call the police? Couldn't stop to offer me a phone?

My faith in humanity has been challenged today by those people on Gardenia between John R and Stephenson. If you were on that road today between 10:15 and 10:50 then you are exactly who I'm talking about. Shame on you.

I finally tackled someone and begged him to let me use his phone. He was just coming home from work and seemed reluctant to let me use his god damn cellphone for 3 minutes while I called Logan for help. I'm glad you decided to help me, Mr Shift Worker, but your kindness would have been more appreciated if you hadn't attempted to WALK AWAY FROM YOU WHILE I ASKED YOU IF I COULD USE YOUR PHONE FOR HELP. If I hadn't had to virtually CHASE YOU I may have better feelings about how you helped me.

Nonetheless, thanks.

Luckily Logan is shooting photography with our friend Joe today and Cari (his fiancee and also assistant) was not too far away getting gas herself when Logan called her. Cari was glad to help and didn't make me chase her to do it and didn't ignore me when I waved pleadingly at her.

Cari is also not from Madison Heights. This is not a coincidence.

Again, dead to me Madison Heights. We thought you were cute before because Madison could drive through and pretend she owned the city...since ever auto shop, liquor store and school has her name on the front. But now, we are changing Madison's name because we want no ties to you and your cold detatched ways.

I really don't talk about Logan's job because well we like paying our mortgage and eating.

But read this. Logan made the cut but quite a few of his friends, some our friends didn't and between my emotional instability, this news and what Madison Heights did to me, I've been crying all morning.

We all know I've been unsatisfied with where our financial life has been going for the last 3 years or so. I talked before about how I'd like Logan to find another job he loves like he loves this one. Where they are able to compensate him for the work he gives them.

With the huge Ford layoffs and the GM layoffs and the automotive industry struggling to thrive in this internationally competitive marketplace, I'm convinced the entire economy of this area is going to get much worse before it gets better.

I really hate to feel uneasy and uneasy is what I'm feeling. I want out.

Hey, Happy Valentines Day

Logan and I aren't particularly romantic. I mean he is but I'm not.

Last night we were talking about what to do for dinner on Valentine's Day and he said he wanted to grill a steak.

He also said, 'Do not buy anything for Valentine's Day. We need that money for your trip."

I said, 'Hey it could be Steak and Blow Job Day early."

Then at bedtime Logan was in the bathroom and when he couldn't lift the soap dish off the sink because it was stuck there because I haven't cleaned the bathroom in...forever. He said, "Do you think you could clean the bathroom tomorrow?"

I said, "It's either a blow job or a clean bathroom."

He chose the clean bathroom.

Well Internet, this figures.

I am in love with so many of your options and guess what? I can't have any of them. It's so nice to have a whole slew of people more inventive and stylish than me to call upon in my time of need but then one has to remind oneself that one might buy a bag for their trip but then one won't have as much spending money at the Ants-Ter-Jam. So I'm hoping to just borrow a bag from a friend. Of course, my sister offered her fancy Wonder Woman bag but if you saw my sister you would clearly see she can pull that off, I can not.

I looked at every single one of your suggestions and I think, I was stupid to ask you all about the bags becuase I was unaware of all the cute bags out there in the world. The only time I've come in contact with really cool bags is whenever I see Mrs. Kennedy so I believed she had somehow mystically made the bags herself. One couldn't actually buy them, they were not for mere mortals.

Since I can't buy them I would like to share with you some of my favorites, but stop sending the ideas because then I'll just have more to add to my list and it's already a depressing list.

I loved this bag from Queen Bee Creations with the birdies on it, I liked the brown one. Or maybe this one.

I also liked this one from Brooklyn Industries. The patterned one I think.

I spent about five hours looking at these from Hervé Chapelier. I really think the 925 and I were meant to be together. I spent another 8 hours browsing Ebay for one.

And then, just when I thought you'd given me every bag I could possibly covet, Crouching Hamster drops off this idea from Holly Aiken. I like the Paspartou/medium tote with the dots.

And just in case I'd decided to convince myself we could actually afford this indulgence, Madison's dentist let me know that she needs orthodontic work. Her bottom teeth are so crowded in they're damaging each other for space. Awesome!

On the bright side, Flogging Baby likes how I flog the babies and so they've promoted me to take over the Co-Lead position left by the obviously robotic Sarah Gilbert. I say robotic because Sarah can blog like I've never believed possible. Karen Walrond and I are joining forces to lead the Flog, but fear not! Karen is similarly robotic and is also reponsible for the commas, as I am a, known abuser, of commas, among other: elements; of the written word.

Let's be friends.

I am a very poor shopper. Since we decided to live debt free and within our means, shopping just holds no value and instead stresses me out. I go to one store and if they don't have what I want, I assume it doesn't exist.

I need help finding a good bag to take to Amsterdam. On longish trips I usually take Logan's very rugged Jeep Gear backpack (guess who Logan does design work for) and my laptop bag onto the plane. For my actual luggage I have a Jeep rolling duffle and a Jeep rolling suitcase. Again, can you guess who Logan does work for?

The backpack works because I can shove my purse in it, the Rebel, books and magazines to read. But you know it's really ugly and awfully touristy.

I need a bag to carry on the plane and through the Toronto airport (hello six hour layover!) and around Amsterdam. I'm open to carrying this bag in addition to my laptop bag, the most important part is that it have room for a book and several magazines, my camera and other purse items (lipstick, phone, wallet).

Won't you help me find something? Remember when I needed shoes and you were all so helpful? Speaking of shoes, I found a pair of Danskos at Nordstrom Rack for $50. (They're like these only with one strap instead of two.)

It could be a messenger bag or a tote bag but it can't be too huge because I'm hoping to use it as an oversized purse while in "Antsterjam" (as Max calls it) so I can easily carry my camera and take pictures of Alice doing things.

Oh and also it can't be terribly expensive because shopping gives me hives as it is. But even if you find a bag that's really expensive, share it because maybe it will lead me to a cheaper version.

Look! I can accept advice!

I couldn't decide if I should turn off comments or leave them up.

I like the interactive nature of the comments and without comments we never would have learned about Moist Pork Panties and I just don't think anyone could live without that.

But on the other hand I just can't accept the nasty comments with grace or aplomb, and you're all right discussing it is kind of a waste of time and just makes the trolls masturbate a little bit harder.

So, I've decided to follow the advice of some nice person and I'm changing my settings (which I wanted to do for a while but couldn't figure out. I'm very smart.) so that you have to have a Typekey account to comment (it takes literally two seconds to set up) and I'm having Logan confirm or delete comments.

So don't send along nasty comments because I won't be reading them. Perhaps someday I'll be able to read the ugly things without having a massive come apart but for now, I'm just not mature enough I suppose.

If this doesn't work out well for us, then I'll just turn off comments all together and you'll just have to email me when you have something to say. I know that's not much fun but one has to protect one's sense of well being you know.

Yes, you can still send me bile via email but most trolls are lazy.

Also, guys? I don't leave for Amsterdam for 13 days and I'm not going to talk about it until I'm there so please stop telling me you're here to read about Amsterdam!

The universe: reacting to trolls with philosophy.

Sometimes I'm just stunned by the universe when things like this happen. This is the fortune Logan got in his fortune cookie last night at his weekly pool league.

Yes, I realize there are women at the pool league. Not to worry I strapped my Man Saving Panties around his head to protect him. He's mine ladies....all. mine. And I am grateful he even came home after wards.

Hey! I thought I was over it but I'm not.

The ironic thing is, Logan is never uncertain about his beauty, he never stops beholding it. But then there's me drowning in self-loathing and doubt and I can't get a fortune cookie like that to save my f-ing life. Life is funny.

I've decided the Internet is having it's period and that is why it's being so bitchy. I was actually sort of surprised at how long the Internet has been kind to me. But then again, the first comment Bethany left about not leaving my husband while I go on vacation because he'd cheat on me, I didn't take as a slam but then it was! Duh!

Look how numb I am to your hatred PMS Internet. I don't even notice anymore when you're slamming me. The part where you said, "Your kids will be happy you're gone." Nice touch I didn't even register until you called me ugly. Woooo! Try some Midol and maybe Yasmin birth control because I hear that's good for PMS.

But I was wondering when the hatred would flare up because a lot of nice things are happening to me. But then when bad things are happening I get shitty comments about gratitude and etc. So hey! I guess I just have to not care anymore.

In California Heather revealed her biggest trick for dealing with the hatred which inevitably comes with writing on the internet. "Ignore and then? Ignore some more."

When she said that I was thinking, "You know, I've really started to get the hang of that." Which was a lie. I don't have the hang of it at all.

But you see the crappiness is not just happening to me. It's also happening to Very Mom. And Amalah's gotten an earful about a particular dress (but don't talk about it....she's over it and you should be too) and her decision to work outside the home.

So my theory holds up. The Internet is having it's period and soon all the raging hormones will stabilize and we'll all get along. Until I go to Amsterdam (the 23rd...we're not all going at the same time...though that would be really funny. A bus tour of nerds!) and then some of the Internet will be jealous, and when some people get jealous they don't understand that feeling and are uncomfortable with it. So they make that emotion about something else and they lash out in hateful ways to make other people feel badly.

On a related note: I've realized how I can't write about celebrities anymore at Flogging Baby. Last week I wrote about Britney's rumored next pregnancy and then yesterday I had to write about the car seat debacle. I've been making an effort not to be judgmental about the celebrities, to not say much because we don't know them. We know them even less than people know bloggers and I know how much it hurts when people say shitty things to me. Even still, the vitriol, hatred and judgements hurled at Britney, Katie and Angelina by the commenters on those posts...it's stomach turning.

Whenever I write about a hot celebrity my email fills with these words and also, I think, bad karma.

The problem is, let's be straight here, Blogging Baby is a blog which is based on good writing and interesting links and news but also as much based on traffic.  But Suburban Bliss is just mine. Traffic is of course something a personal blogger loves...but I loved writing this site when I had 8 people reading it.

You'll note the celebrity and gossip blogs have insane traffic and amazing ad revenue, because people love it. They eat it up like a big fat buttery biscuit. So, it just is a necessary evil at Blogging Baby.

But I think my karma is paying the price for writing pieces which put celebrities up for ridicule and hatred. Perhaps the universe is trying to teach me a lesson for letting people leave comments like this:

"I feel for little Sean. I can't imagine what his life will be like."

Because people have said something to that effect to me on this website.

"Um, wow if she actually is pregnant... her hubby acting the way he does, and she's stupid enough to have another one of his offspring?"

Ouch. I wince.

I won't even go into the Angelina/Brad debacles. Oh the rage the general public unleashes on celebrites who cheat (because you know, regular people never have affairs and start over with new lovers)...I've got a lot of shitty comments coming my way if that comment thread is any indication.

When you look at it that way, that I'm putting out even more opportunities for people to spew hatred and judgements at people in the world, perhaps I don't deserve to expect to be treated any differently in my own public forum.

So no more celebrity news other than birth and pregnancy announcments. And I will defer to the rest of the writers to report Katie Holme's delivery or Angelina's because even just a birth announcement sends people into a judgemental and nasty froth.

And my karma inbox is full.

Oh...things are going to get heavy

I would like it if I were different in a lot of ways.

There are some specific things I'm realizing, over the last two weeks, I need to do for myself.

Being in California last week I realized how far I am from the person I want to be. People had such nice things to say to me and about me. People approached me with such open hearts and yet, I responded to them with my double-chinned awkwardness.

This is not who I want to be.

When I go out with my friends for the night, I always freak out before I go. Because have you seen my friends? They're beautiful people with great taste in clothes. But once I'm actually with them I just feel comfortable, comfortable enough to make my upper lip disappear all night long.

I came home from California crying about all the nice things people said about me. Seriously, I cried in front of Andrew Shue but then I also cried in front of that odd eurasian lady who kept picking at her scalp all through our flight. And the parking lot lady who took my ticket. Then I cried in front of Logan. A lot.

It really disturbed me how much the nice things made me feel sad but happy but kind of really sad because the things people said to me made me want to hurl insults at myself.

I realized then that maybe I have more therapy in my bones.

The comment I got yesterday was so jarring because it's the kind of thing my own internal troll says to me. I have an internal troll who tries to 'keep me grounded' but really the internal troll just hurts my soul.

This is not working out well for me.

I was so jarred because this commenter seemed to have a direct line into my soft spot. I suppose that's because I write so personally, it's not hard to see where my insecurities lie. Also, as a friend pointed out, it's a matter of chance. If 20 people take aim at your heart, your heart will eventually get a direct hit. Unless you keep everyone drunk and then only your eye ball will get nailed.

I should clarify that the comment yesterday didn't change anything about my feelings on faithfulness and marriage. You can't keep anyone was my point. Either you're working at it together or you're not. If one half of the couplehood is ugly, both parties arrived here with that knowledge.

Missteps can happen of course, I've seen enough marriages to know that. But underwear and distrust will never 'keep' a man. People aren't for keeping.

What hurt about that comment was the fact that I'm in a dark self loathing place right now. It's not the bad comments that make me travel to this place and it's not the nice things. Troubling enough, it's both things that make me evaluate this part of myself. The bad things people have to say make me feel shaky and indignant. The good things make me feel like I don't deserve good things.

Nice comments make me question how I'm presenting myself. Mean comments make me question myself.

I've been to therapy a lot of times and I think the thing about therapy is that you can only take what you can take at a specific time in your own personal time line. The last time I left therapy I knew I'd go back eventually but I knew it was silly to keep forcing the issue.

As I process my life and realize how badly certain coping skills are working, I get tired of them and want to rid myself of those hassles.

I'm at a point right now where the self esteem issues are preventing me from doing what I'm meant to do. It's time to fix or heal or patch those things up. There was a time when therapy involved convincing myself to eat actual food to give my body energy. That took up a lot of therapeutic energy so there wasn't a lot left for patching together my overall sense of self esteem.

When your therapy involves learning to eat when you are hungry, self esteem gets lost in the shuffle.

I think it's time to figure out some of what I can do to make myself better. I don't like how I'm feeling right now and it's not because I've gained weight. It's not because I'm going off my medication.

It's also not because my husband loves me in a deep and passionate way I feel grateful for everyday. Not grateful because I'm not as pretty as my him. Not grateful because I don't 'deserve' him.

I'm grateful because people like Bethifer will never know what it's like to be loved like I am loved by my pretty husband.

I promised myself I wouldn't use the C-word but I'm having a really hard time.

"Jennifer" who has the same IP address as "Bethany" who told me I should fear going to Amsterdam because someone might get into my husband's pants.

You are a whore-ish bitch, refrain from commenting here ever again.

Cheating Hearts

Guess what I did last night. I'll give you a hint! It's the same fucking thing I did last Friday!

Guess what I'm doing today? Going back to the Fucking Apple Store to do the same thing I did for 3 hours just over a week ago!

I am so mad right now I can barely breathe. So while I'm mad let's cover some of the comments and emails I've been getting over the last 3 months.

Before we begin, let me first say, 'I know nearly all of you are being facetious when you say these things.'

However, it's also been increasingly grating on my nerves and it brings up my feelings about cheating and faithful marriage.

First a sampling of some of the comments and/or emails:

[Logan's working late, long hours. Calling and emailing me from the office while he's there and excceedingly crabby about working until midnight or 1am.]

Comment: "I hope you have your man saving underwear."

[It's December 2004, we have no money about 2 days after payday every single week. I am applying for every job I can and failing miserably at getting a job. I complain about my husband's lack of advancement in his career because we're all totally freaking out about money.]

Email: "I hope you know you're just tempting every woman out there to steal your husband and show him what it's like to be appreciated."

[Logan makes a birthday cake for his friend Meg.]

Comment: I don't think I'd be comfortable with my husband making a cake for another woman.

[About my trip to Amsterdam]

Comment: I hope you have fun I'd be a little scared leaving Pants at home though, hopefully no one will get in his!

Big Sigh....

I love Logan. I think he's incredibly handsome and also made up of all the qualities I could ever want in a husband and father for my kids. I wrote a lot about that here and also here, and really there are a million other examples of his awesomeness on this website.

But I will never, never worry about my husband being faithful to me. Not because I don't realize people cheat all the time. Not because I don't understand the allure of 'new sex'.

I will never buy 'man-saving' underwear because if I have to buy underwear to save my man, he's not worth saving.

If he's going to have friendships with women which suddenly become torrid affairs? Frankly I don't want him anymore, because what kind of an asshole would do that to me?

If I can't go out of town for six days without worrying about someone getting in my husband's pants, then I'm married to an idiot who doesn't know how to use the word 'no' and I just don't want to be married to a man like that.

I am insecure in a lot of areas of my life, but my marriage is the one place where I'm secure. Secure enough to know that my husband loves me and our family. Also secure enough in myself to know I don't have to 'keep' him, he's here and we're together because we love each other.

My trip to San Francisco or How I cried in front of Andrew Shue

So I'm back from my whirlwind trip to California. I went to the Club Mom meeting, I met with Stefania, JD Griffoen, and Charlene Prince-Birkeland. I saw the lovely Mrs Kennedy. The very tall Heather Armstrong. Also Margaret and Bryan Mason.

Also various Bloggers like Grace and Lisa Stone and Amanda, I'd forgotten how much I liked Amanda. There were many others I'm forgetting off the top of my head.

The meeting went quite well. It made me even more excited for Blogher. I love hearing about why people blog, what their blogs give to them and, because I am an emotional freak of nature, it makes me cry. I just can't say enough nice things about my website lately. What it's given me and my family. I'm crying again.

Anyway, at this meeting we needed to introduce ourselves and we went around the room. When I list the things which make me want to vomit or faint, the list looks like this:

Talking on the phone.
Speaking in front of groups of people I do not know.

So it was finally my turn to tell about myself and why I started my website. I explained how it happened and went on to say that....<lip begins to quiver>....my website has changed my life in such amazing ways and.....I had to stop then because real tears were forming in my eyeballs.

What the ever loving hell?

So yes, I started to cry in front of Andrew Shue.

(Many people had their pictures taken with Mr Shue but the thought of my ginourmous teeth next to his delicate features made me break into hives. So, no pictures.)

Other people sounded smart and intelligent and even witty. I sounded pre-menstrual. Awesome.

The meeting went fine once I stopped crying and when it was over we went into the city to have a quick drink and get Mrs Kennedy and Heather something to eat. I would like it noted at this time I parallel parked my car in only two moves (usually it's like 4-7 moves).

We went to a bar called Blondies where they sell something which will kick your ass called a SIXTEEN ounce cocktail. Whoa. We chatted for a little while and then Mrs Kennedy left to get to the airport. Shockingly I didn't cry. I held tight to the fact that I'll see her in July with Alice.

Heather left and then it was Maggie and I and soon her husband, Bryan. I'm glad the internet is full of nice people, who don't mind spending an hour chatting with a midwestern virtual stranger. I even rode in Maggie's beautiful Karmann Ghia to the restaurant where I was meeting the Floggers.

You'd have thought Jim had two heads for the way I reacted to meeting him. I hadn't seen a picture of him and was surprised he's so young. He looks like someone who would hang out with my little sister...if my sister had a baby. Which she doesn't.

I'd seen pictures of Stefania of course so I wasn't so much surprised but it's always a little jolting to realize the internet is made up of actual people. Charlene I'd never seen a picture of either so although I didn't really know what I expected, maybe someone more typically California? Blonde hair? A tan? Which now that I think about it makes absolutely no sense since the two people I know from California, red haired Maggie and dark haired Mrs. Kennedy, look nothing like that.

Anyway our dinner was very fun, delicious and my sides ached from laughing all evening. Both Stefania and Charlene needed to get home because of sitters and feeding of babies but they held out until 12am, which is 3am my time because I am a rock star. If a rock star starts singing about going to bed on their way back to their hotel. Because I did. I love bed.

Charlene drove me back to the rental car and though I knew the general area where I'd left it, I could not remember where my car was. Thank God I knew the general area and we found it in decent time. But the entire time I had a ball of anxiety in my stomach, would I be wandering San Francisco all night clicking the panic button on my key fob until I heard honking?

I walked away from my trip wishing that how I saw myself matched how other people saw me. This massive insecurity and self loathing is really limiting me. But I don't know what to do about it. Last night Logan said, in response to this latest emotional come-apart: "<big sigh> Okay, well I see what the problem is. You just have to stop thinking about yourself like that." Hey! Great!

Also my period is about to start so that's probably all it is. PMS.

(There are pictures at almost all those links. I didn't take pictures until I'd consumed 1.5 sixteen ounce cocktails...so they're all of my drinks. Nice.)