Question 4: Who is your best friend in the whole world, other than Mr. Spock, and why?

I have several. Y'all know who you are! Some of you I've never met IRL, others I've shared curry with or gone to hear play at little funky venues.

But if I must pick one, I think it has to be This friend, who I've known now for almost 6 years. Oh my god, the hours we've spent laughing over misery. Not to mention the hours I've teased her about this. She's in school for her undergraduate degree, doing it online while working full-time at a company that sucks all the joy from a job (I should know, I used to work there). She's one of my heroes.

Question 3: How fulfilling is your current education path and what is your ultimate goal with it?

I love what I'm doing at school. LOVE. IT.

I wish I could do the school thing forever and yet will be very glad to see the end of the undergraduate thing next May (a little over a year from now!)

After I graduate, I'll be going to grad school for an MSW (er...Masters of Social Work). What I'd really like is to be a family therapist in private practice. That means I need to get an MSW and then do 1000 supervised hours. I should reach my goal about the time MM starts High School. (That bang you heard was me falling over in a dead faint).

I'm still swooning

Someone in my house made samosas from scratch this weekend. And it wasn't me.

These samosas were the best I've ever eaten. Crispy outside, lovely flavorful spicy filling inside (who would have guessed that the crisp outer coat comes from a generous dose of butter?).

I ate too much, but oh! it was worth it.

Mmmmmm...samosas. My man can cook.

Two sides

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM NOT PREGNANT NOR AM I TRYING TO BECOME PREGNANT.


Danigirl has a post up which led to this post.


Eighteen years ago I peed on a stick. "One line, one line, one line." I prayed.
Six years ago I peed on a stick. "Two lines, two lines, two lines." I prayed.

Dani, I hope next time you get the answer you hope for.

Censoring myself

I censor myself. I do not say what I really feel. I know that saying the words that boil inside me will render my argument meaningless, that others will hear only the bile and not the truth behind it.

I censor myself. I type a rant and delete all but three sentences. I make personal remarks and backspace over them. I bite my tongue.

Hold that thought

Follow-up mammogram and ultrasound have been postponed for a week, because the doctor couldn't come into the office today.

I see this as a good sign and a confirmation that there is no reason to panic. If there were anything at all to worry about, they'd be much more aggressive about getting these films ASAP. Right?





And thank you all for your good wishes. I do feel less nervous because of them!

Absolutely, positively, completely, totally calm

I have fibrous breasts. I've known this for years. I have magically appearing and disappearing lumps and bumps that are as predicable as a solar eclipse. The ninth day after my period, my right breast will have a small lump two inches down from the birthmark below my armpit, the next day it will have moved about an inch forward and then it will disappear.

This means that when I got my mammogram a couple of weeks ago, I was pretty sure they'd have to call me back for another look, and indeed, that is what they've done. I'm going back tomorrow for another more squishy mammogram and an ultrasound of that there right breast.

I am not freaking out about this. This was completely expected and predicted by me. I am pretty fireplacing sure that I do not have cancer.






But I'm still posting this because I'm just a tad wee smidge nervous that I'm wrong.

Three things I do do that many other people don't for whatever reason

1. Get my eyebrows waxed (though not while I'm not earning money). and just eyebrows people, that hurts so much I wouldn't like to try it elsewhere.
2. Bite my cuticles. and beyond, to be honest. It looks awful and I really need to stop.
3. Wear white socks with black hightops. And I'm truly, truly sorry. I know you hate it. But the white socks are so comfy. If I'm not stopping biting my cuticles, I'm certainly not stopping this.




And re: the post below. Except for smoking, which I try to convince everyone who does it to stop...I mean, it can kill you, the fact that I don't do it doesn't mean I think others shouldn't, it just means it's not for me. I like my grey. I'm wishy-washy about my look (although I've worn the same brand of black hightop for over 20 years), my ear piercings always got infected when I first got them so I can't imagine what that would be like on a place more intimate, etc.

I'm loving your lists!

Three (No! Four!) things I have never done or wanted to do that other people do.

1. Smoke cigarettes. Family history. Plus they're stinky.
2. Get a tattoo. Yeah. Right. You know me. Long hair, short hair, long hair, short hair, glasses, contacts, glasses, contacts, makeup, no makeup. I would get sick of a tattoo within a year.
3. Get anything other than my earlobes pierced. And I hardly ever even wear those.
4. Dye my hair. Perms, yes (but never again). Dyes, no.

What about you?

Amazingly, I'm not going to mention the "D" word

Question #2: what was the most significant event in your childhood?

Again, not mentioning the "d" word, though that was pretty fireplacing significant. But it was so significant and happened so early that there's no way I can cover it here. My whole life would be different. I'd have half the family I do now. I can't even imagine it.

Instead, I'm going to talk about Grandma Sylvia. Did I ever tell you about my Grandma Sylvia? My step-mother's mother (I wouldn't have known her if not for the "d" word!)

She had beautiful long silver hair that she kept up in a bun. She taught me to play "The Bear Went Over the Mountain" on her piano. She baked the most wonderful chocolate cakes. She taught me to braid hair and let me do hers. I loved staying with her in her little house in New Jersey. I would eat windmill cookies and drink weak tea in her kitchen. My cousin and I would white wash her basement (such fun!). I would cozy up in her recliner. She was so playful and charming and fun to be with.

One weekend...near my birthday...she and I were staying at her sister's (Aunt SoLittleAndCute) apartment as a special birthday treat. I went next door to the neighbor's apartment to practice the piano. When I came back, Grandma Sylvia was sitting stiffly on the couch. Unconscious. Aunt SoLittleAndCute had just finished calling the ambulance. Grandma had had a stroke. A neighbor came and sat with me while Aunt SoLittleAndCute went to the hospital with Grandma. I remember spending some time in the waiting room with my step-mother (Grandma was her mother) and my father. I never saw my grandma again. She died a few days later. It was the first time I'd ever seen someone so close to death. The first time death really touched me, though my grandma Hilda (of the bosoms) and my Grandpa Jack (step-mother's father) both had died a few years before I wasn't as close to them and, also, I was younger and didn't really get it. For years my memory was that she had died that day, that very day, it was only later that I really remembered that she hadn't.

I still miss her.

Last quick note on Virginia Tech.

I don't attend Virginia Tech. My school is in the northern, more urban part of the state, just a few miles from the heart of Washington, DC. But...

So many people I know either went there or know someone who went there or have kids there or have siblings there or taught there or know someone who teaches there.

Thank you to those of you who thought of me when you heard about it, knowing I attend a Virginia school. I hugged those thoughts to myself and then sent them, along with my own, downstate.

Eva says I'm a blog thinker.

Actually, she said it over a month ago (thank you, Eva, I really did and do appreciate it - I feel all verklempt about it actually) and I've sat here and done nothing about telling you about 5 people who I think are blog thinkers in turn.

This is mostly because I already have a list of people who I think are blog thinkers and they're listed here to the right --> along with a few others like Snickolet, who just lost her husband to cancer, is taking care of infant twins, and is still blogging with such evocative language and real beauty that I'm ashamed of my everyday pettiness. And Leggy (whom I won't link to due to her wish for privacy), who blogs about ca.nce.r, 1nfert1l1ty and 1nlaws. And some others who don't blog regularly. How do I pick just 5? Many have already been picked, too.

Here's the thing, all of you - Each and Every One - is a blog thinker. Each of you makes me think something new everyday. Each of you teaches me, reaches me, informs me, makes me laugh, and cry (sometimes in the same post) and get angry. I can't pick just five. And if I were to link to each post that I've read that made me think, well, I'd never be done.

I can't thank you all enough for being out there. Writing your lives. You make me feel like part of something big. A huge community of loving, caring, intelligent individuals who are all looking out for one another, sharing pain and joy and outrage and faith that somehow the world can be a better place.

Angry

Seriously angry.

I agree with Phantom. Cecily should be the go-to blogger on this subject.

YT's questions (one at a time)

YT has sent me some great questions, which I'm going to answer one post per question so as to fit it into my studying/paper writing/parenting/class-going/interning schedule.

Question #1:

If you were to choose right now the perfect profession for Muffin Man in 25 years, what would it be?

Well, he loves to color...so maybe an artist or graphic designer? He loves playing with his knights and horses...so maybe a F&SF writer? He loves swimming and running and riding his bike...so maybe he'll be a triathelete? He loves to eat sushi and pho and ice cream and shrimp and beet greens (along with the usual beige, white, and yellow foods 5-year-olds adore)...so maybe he'll be a famous food critic or a chef. He loves putting together puzzles, playing on the computer, learning new things at school...so maybe he'll be a scientist or an academic. He loves "reading" and being read to. He loves writing. Maybe he'll be a blogger!

He's somewhat bossy...so maybe he'll be a CEO. He's VERY silly...so maybe he'll be a stand-up comic. He's kind and loving...so I know he'll be a good man. Please, God, let him grow up to be a good man.

I'd love for him to become the first Jewish (ish) President. I'd love for him to become the first person on Mars.

I'd love for him to just be happy - raising a family, doing something he loves to do.

33

I did my own hair!

You may not know this about me, considering the photo over there --> but I stopped cutting my hair when I started school. I want an updo at graduation, y'know? My hair's now just a bit below my shoulders, just long enough all around to put up in a pony-tail and not have to use barrettes to keep it all tidy.

So we were going to this black-tie shindig and I went to the hairdresser's to make an appointment to get my hair put up. And they wanted forty-five dollars. (gulp). And we're going to another event in 2 weeks. Ain't no way I wanna pay a hundred bucks on just putting up my hair for a few hours.

Anyhow, I had to go to the mall to pick up my new skirt from Nordstrom's (they'd hemmed it for me), and to buy an evening purse and a shawl. I figured, while I'm there, why don't I look around for something with which to do my own hair?

After looking here and there, I found a shop called "Pretty Pretty" that was selling hair accessories of all sorts (including wigs), and they had some beautiful crystal pins for $9.50 each. "How do these work?" I asked. She showed me. I watched. Then I undid what she did and redid it myself. It worked. I bought them. "You'll need hairspray to keep it together," she said. "Come on back in if you need help."

Fast forward to evening. I'm getting ready. I dampen my hair. I pull it back, I twist it. I shape it into a bun. I put the pins in. I let go. It all falls apart. I curse. I get my hair a little wetter. Pull back. Twist. Shape. This time I put in the first pin at 9:00. The next pin goes in at 3:00. The next at 1:00. At 11:00. The last goes in at 6:00. I let go. Everything stays. I check the mirror. It looks mahvelous. I call MS in to spray the bejesus out of my hair. He does.

I put on my makeup. The hair stays put.
I put on my clothes. The hair stays put.

I put on my shawl. Kiss Muffin Man. Say goodbye to the sitter. Gather up MS and drive to the ball. Hair. Stays. Put.

Come home several hours later. Cannot believe that my hair has stayed put.

Total for the evening (not counting shoes and jewelry which I already owned):

Fancy top: $47.50 (love it!)
Skirt: $55.00 (+ $15 for alterations 'cause it was on sale)
Bra: $75.00 (GAH!)
Shawl: $17.00 (JC Penney, beautiful and WARM)
Evening bag: $7.50 (Sears! Plain black faux silk)
Crystal hair pins (5 large): $50.00
Hose: $4.00
Hairspray: $5.00
-----------------------
Total: $276.00

And I get to use it all again in just two weeks which comes to $138.00 per evening. Not bad for an emergency get-up for a black-tie affair.

I'll get MS to take a picture of me from the back next time.

Things I'd Rather Do Than Go to the Dentist's.

1. Go for my annual gynocological exam
2. Get a mammogram.

I just got my first mammogram, and it was surprisingly not unpleasant. I didn't get much more mushed than I often do to myself just sleeping on my stomach or side and it was over quickly (this visit and the gyno visit together took less time than a dental cleaning).

So, if you've been putting it off because you're afraid it'll hurt or be horribly unpleasant (like I was), just go do it.

Oh! And I found a new bra yesterday, one that doesn't make me feel like a cow! In this brand I'm an FF, not a G. I also found a Wacoal that fit (G), but didn't work under a top that was the whole point of the shopping expedition. I'll go back to buy some of those next month as a Mother's Day present to myself.*

I'm wearing the top to a black-tie event this Saturday night. Never been to one before, very exciting!

*Reminder for you bra-wearing folk: different brands have slightly different ideas about what constitutes a 34 or a G. If you aren't finding a bra that fits, try different combinations of band and cup-sizes that are one up or down from what you're measuring. I tried on a total of 43 bras to find 2 that fit, and 5 that almost fit (one of which would have fit in a size that they were out of).

G whiz.

Thank you, thank you Grandma Hilda.

I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow I feel like a cow

Butter

There's an album...quite a good album...by The Four Bitchin' Babes. On that album is a song...quite a good song...called "Butter".

"Butter" (by Megon McDonough) is a country-western love-song style ode to all things we're told not to eat. Those luscious, delectable, sinful, gloriously seductive treats we'd rather not share with anyone else thankyouverymuch. She sings lovingly of butter, of pasta, of coffee ice cream from Haagen Daz, and of chocolate - sweet, sweet chocolate.

And that, my dear Magpie, is why all my chocolate posts are labelled Butter.

Her version on the Four Bitchin' Babes album is better than the one on her solo album, IMO.

Lindt Excellence Extra Fine Dark Chocolate (70% Cocoa): A Review

Whoa nellie! That is some bitter after taste!

Darn! I missed it!

Yesterday was my two-year blogiversary and I missed it.

But I have a good excuse!

We went to the circus! With tigers! And elephants! And house cats! And dogs! And a high-wire artist! And clowns! And Acrobats! And jugglers! And acrobats who juggle other acrobats!

And then we walked around Nearby University's campus and played tag. And I introduced MM and MS to my Abnormal Psychology prof. ("What is she, twelve?") who gets embarrassed by my calling her Professor since she's at least 1o years younger than me and knows it.

And then we came home and I crashed into bed and woke up for dinner and found out I had a fever and crashed again and now I'm all better and there you go.

Thank you all for being here for me and for letting me ramble on at you.

Mwah!!

donor

Moreena just reminded me that April is National Organ Donation month. I'm an organ donor.

My husband knows I'm an organ donor. My mother knows I'm an organ donor. My father knows I'm an organ donor. My step-father knows. My step-mother knows. My sister knows. My sister-in-law knows. My doctors know. Heck, my 5-year-old son knows!

If you are not an organ donor, please sign up to be one right now. It just takes a minute and could save 7 lives. And once you've signed up, tell everyone you know. And get them to sign up too.

But I'll let Moreena tell you more, okay?

Bullets of a deadline-intensive week

• Monday: Computer shuts itself down without warning while I'm in the middle of writing a paper due yesterday. I finish paper on one of MS's numerous computers.
• Tuesday: Pig practical originally supposed to be on real pigs done with photos in a regular classroom due to unhealthfully high levels of formaldahyde in labs.
• MS fixes computer (dust blocking fan and all the lubricant has dried up).
• I have to study for an exam I'm taking tomorrow.
• MM had a 3-mile Island sort of day, I'm hoping tomorrow is better.
• I ate all the dark chocolate last week and I really, really could use some. RIGHT NOW.