Me, Me, MeSince all good things must eventually point back to ME (it’s my blog, it’s Mother’s Day, what did you really expect??), I get to post a poem by one of my favorites, Dorothy Parker. That broad could lay ‘em down like nobody’s business. This one SO speaks to me… *sigh*
Song of Perfect Propriety
Oh, I should like to ride the seas,
A roaring buccaneer;
A cutlass banging at my knees,
A dirk behind my ear.
And when my captives’ chains would clank
I’d howl with glee and drink,
And then fling out the quivering plank
And watch the beggars sink.I’d like to straddle gory decks,
And dig in laden sands,
And know the feel of throbbing necks
Between my knotted hands.
Oh, I should like to strut and curse
Among my blackguard crew....
But I am writing little verse,
As little ladies do.Oh, I should like to dance and laugh
And pose and preen and sway,
And rip the hearts of men in half,
And toss the bits away.
I’d like to view the reeling years
Through unastonished eyes,
And dip my finger-tips in tears,
And give my smiles for sighs.I’d stroll beyond the ancient bounds,
And tap at fastened gates,
And hear the prettiest of sound-
The clink of shattered fates.
My slaves I’d like to bind with thongs
That cut and burn and chill....
But I am writing little songs,
As little ladies will.- Dorothy Parker
And, to top it off, a quiz! (But you knew the result already. *rolls eyes*)
GO
Me, Me, MeMy Aunt Ellen has been posting some gorgeous photos of the things growing in her yard. I have a keen interest in anything in her yard, her house, her life, beause she is family, but doubly because she lives in the house that was my grandmother’s through my childhood. I won’t go all nostalgic on you here, but yes, everything popping to your mind applies. (Except you, and you. Knock that off. This is a family blog.)
This week, she posted a photo of a pineapple plant, with a huge pineapple sticking out of the top, looking all edible and stuff. Being a city girl, I could stand there all day going, “Wow! Cool! Who knew!”
My experience with pineapples is limited to the produce section and hospitals.
Me, Me, MeTomorrow we are hosting two dozen six-year-olds at Happy Hollow Park and Zoo for Logan’s birthday party, and I don’t have the game stuff yet!!!
I have been scouring the internet looking for a template or design or some frickin’ idea of how to make either little Driver’s Licenses or custom license plates for the little tykes. I’ll give them a template and let them go to town.
Anyone have any ideas??
It’s a race car theme.
VRRRROOOOOOOMMMMMM.
Me, Me, MeJust a friendly warning: this topic is a bit strange, and it took most of the day for my scientific curiosity to win out over my wigginess at what it might mean about my current home life.
So. Pheromones. Specifically, releaser hormones. How do I begin? I’ll start by noting that to no one’s surprise, my cycle and those of my office mates have aligned. We’ve known each other for years and work in close proximity, so no mystery there. Same thing happened with my college roommates (and that is ALL that happened, Genuine). So, when one of the girls complained about ovarian cysts while ovulating (yes, we talk about this stuff), it hit me that it could explain why I am so crampy and grumpy this week.
TMI? Yes, but there is a point coming.
I have noticed that for some reason, my two sons are madly in love with me this week. I mean madly. They cannot stop touching me. They want to be in my lap or carried in my arms at all times. They want me to give them their baths. They want to sleep with me. They want to come sit in the bathroom and keep me company while I shower. They play pattycake on my rear end while I am hopping around, trying to get dressed. It’s unreal.
Just last night, the second I walked in the door, Dylan shouted, “I’m so glad you’re home! I love you very much!” And jumped into my arms. He insisted on sleeping with me and was glued to my side all night long. In the morning, he wanted to look into my eyes from two inches away and smile and tell me he loves me over and over. And his pupils? Huge.
And I was creeped right the fuck out, because I knew I was ovulating. Weird, huh?
It shouldn’t be. Pheromones are part of species propogation. The vomeronasal organ or Jacobson’s organ, is specifically designed to pick up chemical signals. There is a lot of debate over whether it is still functional in mammals, but the thing is still right up your nose, adjascent to the septum (specifically, ”it is located in the midsagittal line, and touches the sphenoid, the ethmoid, the left and right palatine bones, and the left and right maxillary bones.").
None of which makes it any less unsettling to know that your 4 and 6 year-olds are hot for you on some unconscious level. I ran it past my husband this morning, who laughed and agreed that it was entirely possible.
While we were talking, I suddenly remembered the last time I thought about the subject. It was while I was going through fertility treatment, and most of our friends were hyper-aware of the fact that we were trying have a baby.
One of my very best friends, a guy I’ve know for years and whom I love as a big brother, asked me to walk with him for a coffee. While we were sitting and chatting, he started looking very uncomfortable. “What? What? Do I have poppyseeds in my teeth?” “Um, no.” “Then why are you staring at me like that?” “Uh, is there any chance you could be ovulating? Not-that-I-could-ever-think-of-you-that-way-I’m-just-wondering.” “Oh, boy. Well, I suppose I could be… wait. Don’t tell me you noticed.” “I didn’t! I mean I didn’t mean to! Oh crap, can we just start walking back now? I’m creeping myself out.”
So what have we learned?
1. My guy friend is a very good friend.
2. My boys are perfectly healthy.
3. I am still hot, even if it’s only once in a blue moon. *wink*
Me, Me, MeLast night, I picked up one of my new books from my spree in Canada and started to dig in. I was scratching my head and putting it down after the first paragraph of the preface! I picked it up again and re-read the paragraph: nope. Still didn’t sit right. Dang.
Did I mention the topic? The book is Epistemology: a contemporary introduction to the theory of knowledge by Robert Audi.
Now, I studied epistemology in school, so I didn’t expect to be stumped right out of the chute. But can anyone tell me what’s wrong with this first bit?
“This book is a wide-ranging introduction to epistemology, conceived as the theory of knowledge and justification. It presupposes no special background in philosophy and is meant to be fully understandable to any generally educated, careful reader, but for students it is most appropriately studied after completing at least one more general course in philosophy [emphasis mine].”
Whahuahafa? One more course? As in one more course than I already have? And then what?
*takes another course*
*goes back to read intro again*
I need one more course??
*sound of head exploding*
Am I the only one who thinks that that last sentence could have lived happily ever after without the “more” bit? Or at least with a comma between “more” and “general?” This is the kind of shit that leaves you just enlightened enough to screw you up for the rest of your life. You think studying philosophy gives you more understanding of yourself and your surroundings? Pbpbpbpbpbpbpffffft.
*goes off to read Dear Abby over coffee*
Me, Me, MeEver find yourself posting a comment that would make a better entry? I do, all the time. In fact, when I find myself laughing and having to pause for clarity, I know I’ve crossed over from snarky comment to something I should really be doing on my own blog if I had any respect for the people around me.
I should also pause to note that I realize that I’ve become sort of a one-topic pony here, and that not everyone is as entertained by the art of haiku as I am; tough noogies. I am a born-again ‘kuer. I may even rename this site to The Mommy ‘Ku. Or The Kuey Blog. Or The Mommy Bore. I don’t know.
So, on that note, I’m re-posting a comment I left at Lee’s last night. He’d posted about winning the Week Eight Grand Master title, and about some other things he’d learned that day. He of course mentioned the Zen of ‘Ku and a bit about the creative process we’d discussed in Denver. I had totally forgotten about this part of my airport exile… perhaps because of the acute embarrassment I was feeling at the time, but then again it could be because it was funny only to me. Never forget: this is my blog, and what’s funny to me rules the day.
Here’s what I learned in my travels that day:
Me, Me, MeYdnim perspective:
I woke up this morning and noticed that the room surrounding me was not the usual room that I awake in. My first thought was, “holy crap is my wife going to be ticked”. Glancing through the fog that encompasses my head, I grabbed my head to make sure that it hadn’t split open in the manner that it felt. I noticed three toddlers, that are not mine - and they’re not on TV, slouched around a couch in various positions. The biggest boy is upside down tossing chocolate chips into his mouth, the youngest girl is perched on the armrest hugging a teddy bear and the middle boy - well, he’s moving a little fast to follow. The familiar “Are you ready kids?!” is heard on the television. The kids shout back “Aye, aye, captain!!!!” HOLY CRAP are they loud. I somehow manage to tune them out and begin searching for clues to my whereabouts. Looking around the room I notice lots of interesting things, including:
Me, Me, MeI told Mindy I would guest blog for her. Starting on the 23rd. Is it the 23rd yet? (Better late than never? Make an entrance? Fashionably late?)
Well, I assume since you are reading this blog, you know Mindy. Or do you? Let’s see how well you have paid attention to what she has told us about her life. Are you ready?
Go take the How well do you know Mindy and The Mommy Blog quiz. Be sure to come back here and post your results. We all want to hear them. If it was too easy, let me know. I am great at making things tougher. I can make one even Mindy can’t pass!
Me, Me, MeSo… I’m sitting here in my room after having awakened from a 3 1/2 hour nap, sipping Veuve Clicquot and sampling truffles. I am planning a jacuzzi soak in a few moments, and will peruse the in-room movie selections after I pour the bath gel.
Help me choose--shall I order:
1. the four cheese blend pizza with mozzarella, pecorino romano, parmesean & fontina;
2. or the flash fried calamari with fig balsamic vinegar and caponata?
Me, Me, MeYou know those little travel features in the airline magazines that describe how to fill three perfect days in a given city? I hate those articles. They set up a rather lofty expectation, and besides, one of the best things about visiting a new city is discovering things on your own.
I arrived here in Canada with the usual conference agenda in mind: show up, mill through the lobby, say hello to colleagues and old friends, go to the lunches, sit through the sessions, eat too much rich food and drink a bit too much at dinner, wake up hung over, stumble around for coffee, and go to another session. Repeat for several days, and then get on the plane for home.
I did things a little differently this time. I ditched. I mean, REALLY ditched, as in went to nothing at all for the first couple of days. I felt OK about that since the official conference did not begin until Monday, but I did not go to the usual affinity group sessions put on by my own professional organization. In other years, attendance at those sessions was more or less mandatory, as I sat on the board or chaired a committee or had something to present. This is my first experience as a strict participant with no other obligations, and it is GREAT.
So great that instead of being a good little worker bee, I went out and had myself three perfect days.
Me, Me, MeAfter several days, it has been my observation that what will settle this ruckus of a blog down is a good Pop Quiz. Yes. Pop Quiz. Pshah. No, I didn’t stutter - A Pop Quiz. Mommy Mindy takes pride in documenting her life in this here blog. This blog that we g u e st bloggers have so totally trashed (and it has been SO much fun). We promise to clean up later (**nudges Gen** yeah riiiight).
Day in and day out she shares the intimate details of her life - the good, the bad and the funny. That’s why most of you love her. It wasn’t until she left that I actually READ her blog - I mean ALL of it. As in, starting at the first post ALL of it. I learned some things. Some things took me to places I really didn’t want to go, places that were waaaaay funnier than I’ve ever been to, and some places that were/are very familiar and feel like home.
Me, Me, MeWheeeeeee! I am just buttoning up my office and getting ready to DITCH this place for a whole week! I’ll be at a work-related conference, two thousand miles away from my family, which will seem like heaven for the first three days and will then be tortuous beyond all reason for the next four days. Such is the Mommy Curse.
In the interim, I will be leaving my beloved blog in the witty and capable hands of Lee, Genuine, Snowball, Cyn, and Jenn. Gil may even join in, if the kids give him two adjacent seconds at a stretch!
So, basically, this is a not-so-veiled disclaimer: anything you read on this blog between the morning of April 23 and the morning of April 30 WAS NOT AUTHORED BY ME.
Do NOT get upset with me for any content during those dates. Please, especially if you are part of the family and only read once in a while, these Guest Bloggers are my friends, good people, and they mean well. They are also very, very funny, and very, very twisted. I have no idea what they are going to do to this place, but it should be fun to watch.
Me, Me, MeWell, you know me: I can never pass up pointing out something funny, even when it may not benefit me in the long run…
Go see Jenn at Mommy Needs Coffee today. Her daughter said something that will forever change the way I look at my own blog…
Me, Me, MeI am getting ready to send out invitations to the several pals who have offered to guest-blog for me while I’m out of the country April 23-29… if you would like to be added and can promise to cause a ruckus without getting me disowned, drop me a line!
Me, Me, MeI have been immersed in thinking about myths lately. Not that I have been poring over texts at the library, or browsing much on the Internet, or frankly, doing much more than watching Disney’s Hercules over and over with my children and filling in back story where needed.
What I’ve been doing is more along the lines of ruffling through my own thoughts, memories, preconceptions, belief systems, lessons learned, behavioral tenets, and other manifestations of Mindy’s personal Weltanschauung (read: that which, at the core, explains why I’m such a wing nut).
There’s a lot of crap in there, but there’s also a fair amount of interesting stuff that, as I grow older and hopefully wiser, only reinforces for me how interconnected we are by a collective unconscious and shared mythologies, and how these shape our wishes and hopes and dreams, which in turn shape our actions. At least, when I examine my own personally held myths, I see how they have either helped or hindered my own psychological, social, economic, and interpersonal development.
(Note to readers: if you were hoping for a meme or dirty joke, I’m terribly sorry. I woke up in this mood and can’t shake it. Try back tomorrow; this pendulum usually swings on a 24-hour arc.)
This morning I came across this discussion of how myths have been variously defined, and quite liked it:
“… Indeed, they often reveal the archetypes of the collective unconscious (Jung). They are symbolic and metaphorical (Cassirer). They orient people to the metaphysical dimension, explain the origins and nature of the cosmos, validate social issues, and, on the psychological plane, address themselves to the innermost depths of the psyche (Campbell)…”
This is sort of what I have been examining—the inner side of personal myth. And then, there is the outer side, which I really don’t have the energy to think about just now, but that last line seemed especially important:
“… Some of them are explanatory, being prescientific attempts to interpret the natural world (Frazer). As such, they are usually functional and are the science of primitive peoples (Malinowski). Often, they are enacted in rituals (Hooke). Religious myths are sacred histories (Eliade), and distinguished from the profane (Durkheim). But, being semiotic expressions (Saussure), they are a “disease of language” (Müller). They are both individual and social in scope, but they are first and foremost stories (Kirk)…”
They are first and foremost stories. So wtf are you getting at, Mindy?
I write. A lot.
I also design stuff and collect funny things kids say. Oh, and please buy my book. It's very funny.
I also review books and keep track of them in The Mommy Blog Amazon Book Store.
There are 25 people reading.
Subscribe to the Feed
- © The MommyBlog.com and Wonderbelly.com
- illustration by TearDrop
- website design by Moxie Design Studios™
The Mommy Blog™, Wonderbelly™, Mommy Confidential™, and PearSoup™ are trademarks of Wonderbelly™. All rights reserved.