Do I...get a really cute bag that screams out to me that, oh, you just have to have it because the outside is lovely but it's bigger than I want? Bag screaming "Mel!! Pick me!!"
or
Do I get the practical bag that would be more organized and the right size? Practical, organized Mel
Which, btw, so happy I'm not a shoe or bag or clothing fiend because HOLY HELL some of that shit's stupid expensive. And me being my mother's daughter, I only like the expensive stuff.
I'll stick with my books and occasional Apple products, thank you very much.
If only they could tell me which bag to get....
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Thursday, March 08, 2012
3 weeks later....
The country is still debating women's reproductive rights. Ugh.
How about I worry about my uterus and my uterus alone and everyone else can do what they want with theirs?
And if you have a penis instead of a uterus, close your mouth.
Whew, just solved that problem!
Next....
My birthday is in about 11 days. And I want the day to mean something again. I know, as a child, birthdays meant gifts and parties and ponies (ok, maybe no ponies, but you get my point). Years after the giggling girls and painted toenails or whispering silly stories, I'm beyond wanting gifts. However, my birthday should (hopefully) still be important for the people who care about me. It's not like I'm asking for a crazy weekend trip to a far-off destination.
An unexpected phone call, card, or text is lovely. Just to know that you remember me and the one day of the year that is, in a sense, "mine". If I know someone's birthday, I make a big effort to let them know I'm thinking of them on that date, and wishing them well.
If you're close enough to where I am, a hug is the best gift.
In other news....
The Mister is still looking for work. Really REALLY hoping it can be found here because I REALLY really don't want to move. I love the life we have here, even if it means me joining the workforce again.
Thankfully, while he's home, we've really had no major irks or irritations with each other. We're so comfortable around each other, it's odd. Then again, we've never had a particularly volatile relationship.
Amber has an ear infection. Again. I think we're nearing the number 30 here. She hates the ear drops, I hate giving them. Because, first, I have to manage to get Amber to lay down--on the correct side, so I can get the correct ear. This means trying to direct her, which she thinks means "Play, yay!". And when she starts dancing around, Lily really gets going. So when I finally manage to Amber calmed, on her side, and I'm trying to put drops in, Lily is prancing, dancing, and hopping all over the place because Mom's on the floor! Play!
Apparently neither of them have caught on to the habit that when Mom says "ear drops" it doesn't mean the same as "play time".
Oh, to have the seemingly unlimited joy and playfulness of a dog...
And finally....
I haven't run in a few weeks. The shin splints were too painful. I'm disappointed and bummed out, but the weather's been freakishly warm, so I'm hoping to start taking the dogs to the park again. Once everything melts and then dries out, because bringing home muddied dogs ain't my thang.
How about I worry about my uterus and my uterus alone and everyone else can do what they want with theirs?
And if you have a penis instead of a uterus, close your mouth.
Whew, just solved that problem!
Next....
My birthday is in about 11 days. And I want the day to mean something again. I know, as a child, birthdays meant gifts and parties and ponies (ok, maybe no ponies, but you get my point). Years after the giggling girls and painted toenails or whispering silly stories, I'm beyond wanting gifts. However, my birthday should (hopefully) still be important for the people who care about me. It's not like I'm asking for a crazy weekend trip to a far-off destination.
An unexpected phone call, card, or text is lovely. Just to know that you remember me and the one day of the year that is, in a sense, "mine". If I know someone's birthday, I make a big effort to let them know I'm thinking of them on that date, and wishing them well.
If you're close enough to where I am, a hug is the best gift.
In other news....
The Mister is still looking for work. Really REALLY hoping it can be found here because I REALLY really don't want to move. I love the life we have here, even if it means me joining the workforce again.
Thankfully, while he's home, we've really had no major irks or irritations with each other. We're so comfortable around each other, it's odd. Then again, we've never had a particularly volatile relationship.
Amber has an ear infection. Again. I think we're nearing the number 30 here. She hates the ear drops, I hate giving them. Because, first, I have to manage to get Amber to lay down--on the correct side, so I can get the correct ear. This means trying to direct her, which she thinks means "Play, yay!". And when she starts dancing around, Lily really gets going. So when I finally manage to Amber calmed, on her side, and I'm trying to put drops in, Lily is prancing, dancing, and hopping all over the place because Mom's on the floor! Play!
Apparently neither of them have caught on to the habit that when Mom says "ear drops" it doesn't mean the same as "play time".
Oh, to have the seemingly unlimited joy and playfulness of a dog...
And finally....
I haven't run in a few weeks. The shin splints were too painful. I'm disappointed and bummed out, but the weather's been freakishly warm, so I'm hoping to start taking the dogs to the park again. Once everything melts and then dries out, because bringing home muddied dogs ain't my thang.