Friday, June 29, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
"Coming to you live from her desk, here's Heather with the Sertraline Update. Heather?"
It's a week and a half into this crazy SSRI experience, and my moods are already more even. I'm less anxious, less worried about little things. I actually feel like getting up in the morning, even if I haven't slept a wink. Oh yeah. That sleeping thing? I went from sleeping 10+ hours a night to lying in bed tossing and turning. I think I've had approximately 10 hours of sleep in the past week. I hope it will even out soon, all the Experts say three weeks is the time when you see the "big changes".
I've also lost my superpower. I can still function as a "normal" person would on that front, but not like usual! Some people have been telling me that losing my superpower isn't worth not being depressed, but I beg to differ. I'd much rather be "normal" on all fronts.
So, other than needing a nap and wishing I still had my superpower, it's going well. I see my primary care doctor on Friday for a weight and blood pressure check (it was high at my annual) and a dosage adjustment, if necessary. Thankfully, all my other labs came back normal - no pre-diabetes, normal cholesterol, etc.
So, that's all for the sertraline report.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Friday night, we stayed at my folks' house overnight so we could go to the renfaire on Saturday near their house. While we were there, we broke in my mom's new blender with frozen margaritas and BS-ing around the bonfire (no margaritas for Freyja, she was already in bed). Nice time. Glad I get along with my folks! I also did a little baking for the Midsummer ritual our group held on Saturday and the picnic afterward.
Saturday dawned hot and sunny, and we suited Freyja up in her garb (I didn't take any pictures, I know I'm a schmuck) to head over to Derbyshire. Kerwin and I, unforutnately, have grown too soft and large for our garb, but here's a picture from six or seven years ago of me at another festival:
I make a sexy wench, no? I still think my shirt is too high in that photo.
They had this nice little event called "Soak a Bloke/Drench a Wench" to raise funds for breast cancer research. Freyja and I both got in on this fun. We threw water soaked sponges at a group of blokes in garb - several knaves, a couple peasants, a few dirty pirates - and got kisses in return.
Freyja was apparently the only little girl all day who "permitted" herself to be kissed! My girl was trying to kiss all these guys on the lips - hilarious. I don't know if the Jack Sparrow lookalike was TRYING to kiss me on the lips or if he just missed, but da-hamn. Swoon! It is well known around these parts that I am a "kissing whore"- I'll kiss anyone, given half an excuse. This, thankfully, amuses Kerwin instead of infuriating him. Freyja got lots of attention in her little Irish dress - she got a rose from the wandering rose guy (he was cute, too) , a necklace from a merchant who said she was "too cute", and "jewels" from the Queen of the festival. Next year we plan to take her one weekend, and go by ourselves the other weekend. Next year I also plan to fit back into my garb. Rawr!
We had a nice Midsummer ritual on Saturday as well, and a picnic with friends at a local park.
Sunday was uneventful - we got a nice afternoon nap and Freyja and I hit the grocery store, where she proceeded to tell me how to choose a watermelon - "Daddy says you gotta THUMP it!"
I'm still thinking about Jack Sparrow's twin. . .swoon!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
So Kerwin asks her, "Freyja, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
"Wanna be a PIRATE!!!!" She growled, brandishing her cereal spoon. Now, this is not surprising in and of itself, since we've been talking about a pirate birthday party for some time now, but what she said next was classic.
"What did she say? Did she say she wants to be a pirate?" I said. "Freyja, if you're a pirate, Miss Chelsie (our DCP's 14 yo) won't like you anymore. She's scared of pirates, remember."
She thought about this for a minute (and I wondered if I'd gone too far with "won't like you anymore", then pointed her finger at me and shook it - "Well I will just tell her to GET OVER IT!!!"
I almost choked on my english muffin. And this was after she climbed up into my bed at about 7:30 and said "Mumma, I have a question." all matter of fact and oh, so grown up. "If there are spiders on the wall and they don't stay in the corner, and I don't like them and they scare me, will they bite me?"
It slays me just how much she sounds like a KID these days. My baby is almost gone.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Freyja refused to take a nap. Flat out refused. Threw herself around. Acted up. Jumped on the bed. I told her "If you don't take a nap, we don't go to the beach."
She still acted up.
So here we sit. Maybe most parents would have backed down on that, gone to the beach anyway.
I can't. She's a monster lately. Nothing we do or say has any bearing on her behaviour. I had to stick to my guns, even though I'm missing out on my fun, too.
It sucks to be a mom today.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
I really like to sing folk songs and ballads, "Irish" pub songs, sea chanties, old-school torch songs,blues, and anything else that stays in that middle to low register where my voice really shines.
As I noted a couple posts ago, if I had the wherewithal, I'd love to be in an all-chicks "Irish" pub band (and I'd call it Mad Morrigan. There'd have to be three of us). I think to do that, however, I need to learn to play an instrument. My rhythm isn't bad and I could possibly learn to play the bodhran, with practice (of course). I don't know if I can play the bodhran and sing at the same time, though. I can dance and sing, walk and sing, type and sing...you get the idea. I've also been kicking around the idea of taking guitar lessons for a while, but I don't know if I'm "too old" to pick up something new like that. I haven't gotten any further than drooling over pretty guitars on that, though.
I also think that Kerwin and I (he sings too, a lovely bass/baritone) could make decent money singing together at weddings and events. We'd be a cute double act, plus we're both fairly talented - then I think that he only plays saxophone, and I play nothing. We'd need a band.
It all comes back to needing instruments. Anybody else that plays an instrument want to be in a pub band with me? If you're local I'd love to get together just to jam. I miss real singing (in the car doesn't really count).
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
There are questions:
What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was still in high school, languishing in teenage hell.
What were you doing 1 year ago?
Pretty much the same thing I'm doing now - AmeriCorps, parenting. My life is just not interesting.
Five Snacks You Enjoy
-string cheese with Pretzel Goldfish
-bagels with cream cheese
-strawberries dipped in brown or maple sugar
-gingersnaps and ice cold milk
Five Songs That You Know All The Lyrics To-
-Whiskey in the Jar
-Happy Phantom - Tori Amos
-The Wizard and I - WICKED soundtrack
-Hunter - Dido
Five Things You Would Do If You Were a Millionaire
-half away for investment/college funds
-send my friends to their Stonehenges (that one place in the world where you think you would feel the most enlightened and connected)
-beautiful wonderful home of our own
-start an Irish pub band, all chicks.
-hire a house staff - maids, trainers, gardeners.
Five Bad Habits
-I bite my nails
-I don’t exercise.
-I like yelling
-Eating cheese fries at every opportunity
-Spending too much money on stupid shit.
Five Things You Like To Do
-cuddle with my toddler (when she lets me)
-read Fantasy/SciFi novels
Five Things You Would Never Wear Again
-tapered leg jeans
-anything velour and form fitting
-ugly tee shirts
Five Favorite Toys
- Game Boy Advance
If you want to do it, do it. :D And let me know.
Friday, June 08, 2007
I know it is hard to believe, but fat chicks like to swim. Not sit by the pool, not try to cover up all the rolls, chunk, and cellulite you seem to think we should be covering with the ugly-ass bathing suits you have on offer this year, but swim. To do so, we need to not be encumbered by swimsuit skirts that are reaching lengths not seen since the Victorian era. And would it be too much to ask to put some decent support for the girls in there? The half shelf bra with wimpy foam cups is just NOT cutting it here.
Also, please get a reality check on the prices. I just paid $13.84 for my husband's brand new board shorts, and there is more material there than in a lot of womens' suits, yet it was a quarter of the price of many suits I tried on yesterday. What the hell is going on with that? The last bathing suit I purchased was about $25 and I wore it for five years, so it's obvious that I'm not going to get higher quality with the higher prices, unless I'm looking for a competitive swimming suit, which I'm not. To be fair, there were some suits for $17 or so at the Evil Store, but they were ugly.
I did purchase a suit yesterday despite my annoyance with the industry. Wonderful Target came to my rescue as usual. I think $25 is plenty to pay for a swimsuit. I bet a LOT of other women feel the same way.
Get a clue,
When half of all americans are likely to use food stamps at some point in their lives, it is no longer a welfare queen problem (not like it ever was one), but a shitty economy problem.
Your "tax dollars" are more likely to go to funding that war in the big sandbox and paying for police and fire services to keep you safe than to government aid programs.
Die in a fire.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
I walked into my mother's house today and smelled Paganism. My mother is Lutheran, and as far as I know holds no Pagan leanings - but the smell that wafted into my nostrils as I set my things down was unmistakably the smell of the small hole-in-the-wall shop where I conducted my spiritual awakening over the course of a couple of years. The shop is out of business now, and I'm not sure what, if anything, resides there now. The smell of the store (and my mother's house today) is the same as any new-agey or occult store that sells incense in a small space - exotic woods, musk, eucalyptus and who-knows-what-else all mixed together, but that smell will always remind me of Wings and the incredibly kind and patient people who worked there and answered my questions, let me spend entire afternoons picking their brains, and tolerated my endless browsing to only walk out with $5 worth of merchandise. There's a shop in the town where I now reside that smells similar - but they sell mostly beads and bohemian hippie clothes, so it's not quite the same.
That smell takes me back to when I still looked for the wonder in everything, and anything seemed possible. It was a time of transitions, leaving the trappings of childhood behind and figuring out what to take with me into adulthood. It's the smell of a few poor decisions mixed with a lot of great ones. It's comforting to smell, yet bittersweet - the reminders of those wonderful people who were so good to a girl on the verge of discovering herself, who reassured me that as long as I "checked my gut" and remembered "why my friends call me 'Mama Heather'", that everything would work out in the end.
It did. It has. It continues to. For the smell of awakening, for the time, talk, and wisdom you shared - thank you Dawn and Sherri, and all others whose names I cannot remember. Blessed be.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
I listen to NPR on the drive in, which consists of a half hour or so of Michigan Radio's morning program including the Marketplace and Environment reports and a half hour or so of "Newshour" from the BBC. This means I usually hear absolutely nothing relevant to what other people are talking about on a daily basis, although I do know quite a bit about the Six-Day War now. The podcasts I download don't help (Wait, Wait - Don't Tell Me; Science Friday; and RadioLab). We don't have cable anymore, so I can't get my hour of news and snark via Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert.
What's a busy mom to do? I've tried watching Headline News at lunch, but people come in and go "Ughhhhhh, are you WATCHING this? Millionaire is on!" (seriously), so that's out. We don't subscribe to any newspapers, although that may be the most cost-effective solution.
Monday, June 04, 2007
I only like comfortable shoes. I have a couple pairs of heels - plain black pumps with a 2", thick heel, and a pair of 4" "stripper shoes". The rest of my shoes, including the dressy ones, were chosen for cuteness and comfort level. This whole flats trend that's going on right now makes me a very happy shoe slut.
Most people can't tell, since in the summer I wear Birkenstocks or Birkie-fakes - clogs when working, sandals on my free time. I have a lot of sandals. I have cute toes, so I feel I'm entitled to show them off.
I scored on shoes this weekend, though. I went into Payless after my pedicure and found the best pair of "athleisure" shoes. They're mary-jane style,(and apparently vegan, too) with black nonslip soles and brick red uppers. The uppers are a sueded material and very soft. $9, marked down from $25. Score!
They're definately not Sex-In-The-City approved, but they're Heather-approved - and that's good enough for me.
Friday, June 01, 2007
I've never had one before, and I don't know what to expect. I made sure to shave my legs, I don't know if a leg massage is involved and I didn't want to gross any nail techs out. Well, that and I'm wearing capris. Hairy legs and capris, they don't mix. But this pedicure thing is new. I was sitting with my feet in the pool at the daycare provider's house one afternoon after work last week while Freyja swam (okay, she didn't so much swim as float around in a blow-up dolphin) with Kerwin. DCP and I were chatting and she said she had to go get a pedicure before her son's open house (which is tomorrow). I mentioned that I had never had a pedicure (GASP), and the next thing I know we have a date.
I am just NOT the "type" (is there a type?) that gets pedicures. I paint my toenails, sure. Myself. With strange, bright colors. I haven't worn makeup since January, and the biggest concessions I make to my girly side is a haircut every six weeks (and this is not even a year-old ritual) and a dye job every four. The haircut I get at BoRics, and the dye I do myself. Low-maintenance.
But as I think about that seven pound weight loss and the next three years (my conservative estimate) that it will take to lose the rest, I think that it might be fun to do some things that are considered "girly". It might be nice to buy some more feminine clothing (once I can fit into it). I've always been that chick in jeans, a ponytail, and birkenstocks. Girly was never my M.O. I got my man by my brains, personality and my persistence (becuase DAMN was that boy an internet ho!), not with perfect hair, pretty makeup, and ladylike manners.
I kind of want those ladylike manners. I kind of want the girly stuff - for me. Not for anybody else, but for me. Yet I don't want to lose myself, nor can I get past my desire to tell society at large to eff off. It's a fine line. Maybe I'm just "growing up".