Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Getting ready for school.

Her: "I really like this outfit, I have to remember to wear it more often."

Me: "Yes, I think you need to have more fun with your clothes."

Her: [with fist in the air] "I need to be a Maggie Girl!"

New Goods @ Mighty Goods Shop

Remember 38 years ago when I traveled to California? And then Maggie and I debated eating each other on our long drive to Portland, Oregon where we were seduced by people who didn't look a lot like me but were among the nicest people I've ever seen?

While in Portland we found some fabulous things and I've been meaning to tell you they're up for sale, but I keep forgetting until another one sells.

You've already missed this and these, don't miss anything else.

I can just hear his Penthouse letter starting now...

What I'd like to say to the snow.

Yes, yes....you're beautiful! Stunning! Amazing! We think you're just breathtaking. But all this clinging to everything and having to be around all the time is making you seem really insecure.

Just think about it. Maybe it's time to give the grass a turn to show off?

=========================

We took the kids to a place called The Great Wolf Lodge as a little end of vacation treat. I worried about wearing a bathing suit in public after this long, long winter. Surprisingly I did not need to worry because the midwest is a pretty fat place and by comparison I felt a little like a spritely gazelle prancing about the water park.

It was a nice little trip and though the kids didn't want to do anything even remotely fun, like ride on a water slide, Logan and I did. We made them wait for us at the end and take our pictures. I'm kidding, but only about the picture part.

The water was so chlorinated I would guess swimming in a pool of bleach would feel remarkably similar. I don't know what the general population has on their skin but I lost two layers of mine in the disinfecting solution of the pool. Ouch.

Of course the trip wouldn't be complete without me making an ass of myself. Water, bathing suit and a public place. The possibilities for disaster are literally endless.

Maddie wanted to spend sometime in the hot tub. There were two of these steaming pools of bleach and one was full of a crowd similar to the population of the state of Delaware. Okay, maybe Rhode Island.

A second hot tub was empty so we headed in. It was awfully private and I thought to myself, "Gee, if this wasn't the least romantic place in the world, this would be a nice place to hang out with your favorite person."

Right then a man and a woman came in and gave me a very dirty look. I realized then why no one was in the hot tub, because it was for adults only. I told Maddie in a tiny-bit-louder than normal voice, "Oops! This is the hot tub for grown ups. We should head out."

As I said this I started doing the side stroke toward the steps. Maddie didn't hear what I said so I tried to tell her as I swam.

This distraction from my stroke, coupled with an unfortunately placed jet stream in the tub resulted in me veering terribly off course. When I finally realized I wasn't swimming straight it was just as I gently glided in between the legs of the man in the hot tub. As if I was swimming up onto his lap. As his wife watched in horror.

Her look of horror was nothing when compared to Maddie's face as she watched me attempting to swim into the lap of a stranger.

Thanks for the memories Ohio!

============================

We tried a Martha Stewart project over the break, I wrote about it at The Buzz Off. I don't think it turned out like they thought but the kids were mostly happy.

You're not kidding buddy.

Max: "Are those lines on your forehead from stitches."

Me: "no sometimes you get them when you're a grown up."

Max: "so you're older than dad. He doesn't have those lines."

Me: "well no. You also get them when you worry."

Max: "oh right and you worry A LOT more than dad."

Me: ......

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Lucky 13

Plus a five and a one.

I want our living room to have orange accents. It's surprisingly difficult to find them.

I found these on Etsy at Aunt Mae's Apartment and got them in about 24 hours. I was stunned.

Things are better now.

I just signed up for the Photojojo Time Capsule email. Once a week they send a selection of your Flickr photos from one year ago.

Here's my first set.

February 2008 was remarkably traumatic I just remembered Max's Super Silver Toenail and the beginning of the wallpaper debacle....the wall paper and kitchen revamp that tried to kill me. I wish I'd known then what I know now.

That house is a fading memory.

I think you should sign up for your own. Hopefully your life is better now than it was last year.

Link via SwissMiss.

If only he'd add me as a friend.

I always knew he had a special place for me in his heart.

"Barack Obama is your new bicycle."

So far he's saved me his dessert and folded my laundry. What a nice guy.

A Restful Night At Sterling Office Complex.

If you follow my flickr stream you may have noticed on Monday night I slept with a lot of wires sticking to my head and one single, incredibly annoying one sticking in my nose.

Surprisingly the wires did not make it difficult to make it sleep. The fact that the sleep clinic was tucked inside an office complex, where the heat goes down to 2 degrees overnight and the night cleaning crew runs vacuum cleaners for several hours in the night, made it remarkably difficult to sleep.

This is probably good for the test, wouldn't have been terrible if I slept like a pretty pretty princess all night and the doctor had to tell me, "I'd suggest you get an office job and sleep there. Why don't you go work with your husband at his office."

No, no, I'm kidding. Logan doesn't sleep at his office. He plays ping pong.

I'm glad I didn't sleep like a baby, but I would have liked the test to more accurately mimic my real sleep pattern. My regular sleep pattern involves me waking up several times in the night but almost never taking more than one minute to fall back asleep.

In the morning, five in the morning, they woke me up. I spontaneously lactated because that was the only reason my body could imagine we'd be up that early. "Must be a starving baby and no bottles! Let's lactate."

The nurse made it clear I was up for the day, she said it several times and I was terrified of falling back asleep I watched the local morning news just to keep myself awake and annoyed. "Let's go to Ann Marie with traffic."

"We're having a smooth ride this morning. No accidents and it's smooth sailing."

Of course the roads are clear, everyone's asleep except you and me. Oh and breastfeeding mothers.

The nurse also mentioned the next nine hours of my day would consist of a "...series of naps".

The base of my brain had it's own private orgasm with those words. A day of naps! I won the nap lottery!

At 7am I finally got my first nap, but I was so hyped up from the morning news and the 2 degree temperature in my room I could not fall asleep for almost the entire 20 minute period. With the second nap I fell asleep immediately because I'd been dozing in and out since the last nap (but trying to hide it from the camera on the wall across from my bed). It was the best sleep I'd gotten all night. The best sleep I'd had in a couple of weeks. It was perfect.

Except it was only 20 minutes.

Someone should outlaw 20 minute naps. There's no excuse for them, they're ridiculous, they're unsatisfying. They have no redeeming qualities at all. In fact I think one of McCain's campaign promises is to ban their existence. I'd be willing to vote for him if that were actually true.

For the rest of the day my nurse came and told me it was time for another nap and then, just as I'd float off to sleep she'd wake me up. Like, on purpose, like she was enjoying my torture.

On the bright side I burned an entire day of Midwinter Break without doing anything but reading and napping. The day before we burned the daylight like this.

It will take two weeks to get the results of my test. Let's just hope he doesn't prescribe 20 minute naps.

Testicular Valentine's

I often do this thing when I'm trying to be funny where I might pretend to speak for an inanimate object or a cat or perhaps my husband wondering where his testicle went.

Last night Logan organized a surprise valentine's day outing with a few of our friends. He got all the guys to organize sitters and we met everyone at a place in town for drinks. Each new arrival wondering if they were crashing a romantic date.

Talk turned to missing testicles, specifically the missing testicle of a friend's son. Talk continued to cryptorchidism and then Logan mentioned how when it's really cold his testicles huddle inside for warmth.

This is where I added my brand of humor to the conversation.

"It's like, "Oh man, it's so cold I think my testicle is in my mouth at this point.'"

Not surprisingly, after reading what I said out loud in a public place, the table kind of stopped. Eyebrows raised and body language reeled away from the table.

In an effort to fix what I'd just said I jumped in with, "Oh! No....ha ha ha.....I don't mean *my* testicle. Ha ha ha. I meant Logan's testicle."

Which didn't actually help because I told a group of people at a Valentine's Day gathering that my husband's testicle was in my mouth.

See also: "Talking With Your Hands Can Be Detrimental."

Happy Valentine's Day

Logan left early for work this morning.

We aren't big on celebrating valentine's day so this was a nice sentiment in my inbox this morning.

Of course the 'HVD' keeps making me think he's trying to tell me he's caught the clap but he still loves me.

"Don't you people use the Internet?"

Logan took one for the team with me away for twelve days. He kept very busy, busy doing things like discovering pooled water in the basement by stepping in it in bare feet. (I'm glad we rent.) He didn't tell me about it until I was coming home because he knows how I get The Insane when things go wrong and I'm away. He also knows how I get The Insane when things go wrong and I'm here.

He also only let Max call me sobbing once at bedtime the night before I returned because he knew the sound of him crying would break my head into two very wet pieces.

He didn't tell me how he had one of those Sunday night episodes where you sit down and realize your career is all about selling shit to people they don't need. And you're not sure you want to be doing that.

I'm glad he waited to tell me all that because if he hadn't I might have been forced to take Heather up on her repeated strong requests to cuddle me.

Here are pictures of my friends Maggie, Alice, Heather, SarahBrown and Mrs Kennedy. Some are from Maggie and I's big adventure in Portland. Some are from our big night out back in San Francisco where everyone (except me) sang karaoke with a live band.

At the end of Heather's song the guitarist said to the crowd, who didn't seem to realize they were watching Dooce perform, "Don't you people use the Internet?"

I like to think karaoke is a leveler among people. Everyone is a superstar at karaoke.

Except me because I didn't do it.

News from home.

This morning I'm talking to Logan, he gives me updates on the babies.

When we put Max to bed each night he likes me to tuck him in and then, as I leave the room, he calls after me, "Send Dad in!" When Logan comes up to say good night Max calls after him as he leaves, "Send Mom in!" This could go on for quite some time, except usually he falls asleep before anyone has to make a second visit.

Last night Logan tucked Max into bed and turned to leave. Max called after him, "Send yourself in!"

I miss my babies.

Portland, Stay Sweet.

Maggie and I are in Portland.

She is much better at relaying our conversations so I suggest you read there. She is also better at taking pictures so you should look at those here.

There are a few things I can't believe about Portland.

1) Everyone here is incredibly attractive, especially at our hotel. Everyone's so attractive I keep waiting for someone to ask me to leave.

2) Everyone is so nice. So nice. On our first night here we were struggling a little with our map. We wanted to ask a girl passing by to point us in the right direction. She was on the phone so we didn't bother her. She turned around and came back to ask us if we needed help. People here like to talk. We've talked to hotel clerks and waiters and store owners (hello, Canoe) and usually? I don't really talk to anyone.

I pretty much love it here. So I'm not coming home, home is going to have to come here.

A day late....

I posted at The Buzz Off this week.

You should read it.

I am literally boarding a plane to San Francisco right now.

Have a wonderful weekend!