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Photographic Evidence Found of First Gay Couple Adoption

Marvin Teslavich and Samuel McSmiley announced the adoption of their fourth child this weekend at the monthly meeting of the town elders held at the local one room schoolhouse.

Mr. Teslavich took a moment to remind everyone that "it is love that makes a family and not simply a mother and father."

The elders broke early for an impromptu surprise shower for the couple, both longtime residents of Hollow Falls.

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My Life in Slow Motion

I have been reading nonstop, so thank you for all of your recommendations. I finished Nick Hornby's Juliet Naked, have read several stories in the Stephen King short story collection, Just After Sunset and I have digested the first few chapters of The Outliers. The best part is I have a big stack from which to pick the next.

It's been an interesting week so far, it's only Thursday and I've already told an inexplicable whopping lie to a kind Mexican purveyor of produce and I took a funny pill and almost had to spend a little time in the "bad trip" tent. Is your curiosity piqued yet? I'll start with the whopping lie.

Monday morning I went by one of our local farm stands to pick up pumpkins and inquire as to whether they would be open to selling me their ugly tomatoes at a cut rate. My garden tomatoes are all used up and at 1.99/lb and up, making homemade sauce from pristine store tomatoes would be an expensive venture. My thought was the blemished or overripe tomatoes might be had for a bargain. I told the farmstand man that I'll use them for sauce, that I make a lot at a time because I have a big family. As he considered my offer, I counted family in my head to figure how many pumpkins we would need. Me, hubs, kid 1, kid 2, bebe and visiting Grandma, just as I'm tallying up, the gardener asks me, "So how many kids do you have?"

I answer without thinking, "Six."

"Six?" he asked.

Now, yes, certainly I could have explained, "no, no, no, I don't have six children, I was only half listening to you and counting pumpkins in my head and trying to decide if Grandma should get a larger pumpkin like the husband and I or if I could slide by with one of the smaller three dollar pumpkins because in truth, she has gotten a bit smaller." But just answering "yes" seemed somehow less crazy than my genuine stream of consciousness and perhaps taking pity on me and my six children/mouths to feed, he'd fork over my tomatoes.

This man was friendly, sweet even, so naturally he asked after my six kids.

"Six, wow, that is a big family here in the U.S., in Mexico, where I am from, not so big, but even me, I only have four," he said this almost apologetically. "How old are they?"

Without skipping a beat(what is wrong with me that I can lie this easily) I answer,"Oh the oldest is eleven and the baby is two, and the rest are, you know, in between."

In my head I am quickly trying to do the math: given my age, would I have to have had twins to get all six in or should I just say I'm a few years older than I am? Great, now I am lying about my age too, what is wrong with me?

"Both girls and boys?" he asked.

"Yes, three girls and three boys,"(oh how convenient and seven brides for seven brothers perhaps?)

A spotted teenage cat, not quite a kitten but not yet full grown leapt from a stack of cardboard boxes and I leaned down to offer my hand jumping at the opportunity to change the subject before he starts asking me for names, I tell him I also have two cats and a dog. It's a wonder I didn't lie about them too.

















I will carry this picture in my wallet from now on in case I need proof.


Then yesterday I was getting ready for work running about trying to get out the door. Husband was calling with information I needed to write down, Grandma was asking questions about where stuff was because she was staying home with the bebe, I was trying to, you know, leave the house in something that matched without forgetting any important "foundation" garments, again.(Did she forget something important another time you ask. Yes I did.)

The wind here in my area of Southern California have been whipping around in a frenzy and my sinuses have been going crazy. It's bad to have a drippy nose at work, especially during flu season, especially with H1N1 freaking everyone out, especially when I spend my days touching people(that sounds wrong--you know what I mean). So as I'm leaving the house, I think I have got to take a Claritin or Sudafed or something to dry me up and quell the sneezing.

So I write down my husband's info, get Grandma what she needs, figure out my adult version of Garanimals, pop a Sudafed and fly out of the house. I arrive at work and just a few minutes later, I start feeling very dizzy. Perhaps it was all the flurry leaving the house I tell myself. Then the sweating and nausea start and some little piece of my brain leads me back to the bathroom where I pressed a little pill I thought was Sudafed into my hand and washed down with the last sip of my coffee.

Oh my god, that was not Sudafed, I just took my RX migraine medication, Sumatriptan(see sounds the same no?) This is the med that last time I took it, I felt drunk, slurred my words, thought I might throw up, flopped on the bed and slept for three hours.

And I am at a new job, one where there are coworkers who I am still trying to be professional around, honeymoon period and all. And here I am, I will now be known as the girl who takes pills and gets all funny(half the women in Orange County by the way so not really the stigma you would think it might be, really but so soon?) And I feel like I have to tell at least our receptionist in case I need to make a quick exit. I look at my calendar, too late to cancel my first clients so I sip a diet coke intending to counter the sedative effects and hope for the best.













Something like this is what I was afraid of.


It all turned out ok. I didn't act intoxicated, or throw up on a client, I did nothing weird except ask the receptionist too many times,"I am acting normal right?" The worst part was the headache that came at the end of accidentally taking my headache medication. Still, I did learn two important things, don't take pills in a hurry and Diet Coke fixes everything.

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Read Between the Lines


I think I know why I haven't been writing so much. Yes, I have been very busy lately with a new location, closing down the old location, kids acclimating to school, husband at tail end of huge time-sensitive project, Grandma coming to visit in a few days, Halloween, Mom and Stepdad coming to visit Thanksgiving.........................

But usually these things don't get in the way of pumping out some prose here and there.

I think my problem is I haven't read a book for months. Even my short story anthologies have gone uncracked in the bathroom. Reading fuels my writing. I need to read. Books. No more magazines scanned for some new dinner ideas, or PTA requests to sell this junk or that crap. I need to read fewer School Bulletins and more weighty, inky stinky books. I have culled a few from fellow bloggers mentions and I have perused the NYT Bestseller list only to sigh a resounding meh.

Here's my current list, already on it's way via Amazon:
Under the Dome- Stephen King

Outliers:The Story of Success

Just After Sunset(short stories)- Stephen King(I bought it bundled with his new one)
The Best American Short Stories of 2009- Alice Sebold

I need more fiction. I like Stephen King but it's been awhile. I am feeling nostalgic and figured I would give him a try again. Still, I need more fiction. I don't like "chicklit" if it's fluffy but I have happily devoured some of the Oprah list and other more female centric novels. I want you, my readers and fellow bloggers to recommend some good reads, and it doesn't have to be fiction. It can be anything, even if you aren't sure if I'll like it, I'll check it out.

Here's what I don't want:

~anything with vampires featured prominently in the storyline.

~books about shopping or shoes or purses(I like these things but I don't want to read about them) or anything that might use the non word words fashionista, shopinista, bargainista, maxxanista, barrista, sandanista, you get my drift.

~books either symbolically or literally about an Apocalypse. I read The Road and it gave me the creepies for like three days. Even seeing the previews for the new movie is fueling my stress nightmares. There are at least seven apocalyptic movies out, must be in response to war and economic depression but frankly, I'm over it. It doesn't have to be all Mary Sunshine but no more death and devastation.


~book that are overly maudlin, please don't recommend anything from Mitch Albom or Nicolas Sparks. I don't want to read about dogs dying, or dying teenagers last wishes, or a tree that's dying or a family coming together just in time for Christmas. No life lessons please, not now.


Other than that, throw some recommendations at me because I am finally coming into some time to read.

Postscript:
A long time ago, I read Lovely Bones(Alice Sebold), did anyone else know it's a movie coming out in December?? Looks like it could be good.

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Would I Lie to You?

I don't dabble in chain mail or chain posts or whatever they are called online or even blog awards for that matter and yet, every once in awhile I will get picked for something that is actually insightful and interesting. The Well Read Hostess(and she is and her dad wrote a book and was on The Daily Show so that makes her kind of famous and she teaches 9th graders so she should be given a bunch of humanity awards and probably a big fat raise, she has very nice toes and runs a virtual book club if you haven't heard of it.) picked me for a "Be Honest" post which either means she thinks I am a big fat liar(probably not because she is a very nice Well Read Hostess and I am a pretty honest girl) or she thinks someone who waxes vag for a living and has a super sexy husband might have a few juicy things up her sleeve.


As she related in her post, woman have a tendency to lie. We don't lie to deceive so much as to blend into our environments much like the chameleon changes color. We pretend things are easier than they are because we want to appear to have it all together. Because of course we look around and everyone else seems to be doing okay(see the viscous cycle here??) We leave out details of marital spats, calls home from school, a lackluster job review perhaps out of fear that others will make a mountain out of a mole hill. Maybe it's out of fear that others will offer to help us and we'll feel beholden or looked down upon. But it is important to share the truth, it's one of the things that attracted me to this whole blogging thing in the beginning. I found the virtual anonymity fostered in many, a more honest sharing of the highs and lows of being human in this day and age.

So in the spirit of full disclosure

1.There are very few things I won't talk about. The thing I rarely discuss, at least online, is when my husband and I argue or don't get along. I don't do it to impart an image of perfection as much as when it comes to our conflicts, I have learned a short memory serves me well. Writing about it would leave a record and I am already bad enough about keeping score, I don't need to have the evidence to go back to. The truth is, we argue. Thankfully it doesn't happen too often because he is almost perfect but it happens. One of the last arguments we had was after he let my nine year old buy something before he had saved enough allowance. "He's going to pay it off over the next few allowances," he said. "Wonderful," I replied, "you just taught my nine year old how to use a credit card." Maybe I'll write about that one because it was funny(and I was right and I am much more likely to write about the time I was right than when he was right).

2.Like Well Read Hostess, I wish I were a better mom and wife some days. I wish I didn't crave and guard my personal time so closely. I'm an extroverted introvert and I need that time alone to recharge but it makes me feel selfish.

3.I regret getting a dog. I love her, the family loves her, in time I may even like her again but she is way more work than I bargained for and every time she escapes our front door and takes off running toward the busy street, my heart lurches and I pray she doesn't get hit by a car. All that silent pleading has made me resent her, oh and she won't stop shitting in the house.

4.In spite of all my koombayas about accepting yourself and appraising your body kindly, I think I will always struggle with body image. It's probably why I have written so much about it, it helps me work through it. I intellectually understand but accepting myself on an emotional level is much more challenging.


5.Years ago a bunch of my college poker buddies were all talking about how crazy girls make the best lovers. I took great exception to that because I knew I was a girl with, shall we say, certain talents and I clearly had my shit together. Years later, turns out? Yep, I am the crazy one.


6.I'm embarrassed by how much tv I watch. I go glassy-eyed watching Top Chef and every once in awhile, I uncomfortably contemplate all the things I could have accomplished with that time.


7. I have a nice singing voice but I am uncomfortable performing. Once I start doing it, I'm ok but just beforehand I get severely nauseated and panicky. It's stupid because people always enjoy it but I, ugh, just thinking about it brings on some cold sweats . It took me a long time to even sing comfortably in front of my husband and he's seen me nekkid, in fluorescent and other exposing things. I do not, however, have any hesitation singing to my children, go figure.


8.I am really impatient with my kids. I do things efficiently and quickly and I have never quite learned how to dial it down. They are slowly wearing me down. Truthfully, the bebe will probably have it easiest.


9.When I moved out to California,I quit smoking, I lost a bunch of weight and got healthy. I ate well, I ran, I drank green tea, did yoga, took ballet classes, I was a well oiled machine, I maintained it for 8 years and I promised myself I would never be overweight again. Guess what? (While I fell off the wagon with things like bagels and real, homemade buttered popcorn, I never did start smoking again.)


10.I am outwardly, a very outgoing person but actually, I am very introverted, being chatty and getting to know people is something I do to get comfortable. I hate silences with newish people, it makes me really uncomfortable and sometimes I just talk and talk and the little inside my head voice is begging me to shut up and let someone else talk.


Ok, that's it.


I nominate because I lurvs them:

Rassles(cause I wonder what secrety secrets a wacky twentysomething has)
Blues(cause she lives in Spain and her secrets probably have a spicy, Latin tinge to them)
Ginny(cause she has a life very close to mine)
Gypsy(cause she is so nice, there has to be a little dirt there)

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Big Surprise...Another Rant

I know, I know, I'm not funny anymore, I write like I "want to win some Reader's Digest award", I'm a downer, blah, blah, blah... First of all, yes, I am currently afflicted with some kind of low-grade writer's block and it will pass eventually, just like last night's street taco dinner(I probably just need antibiotics). Second, there's a lot of stuff going on and I am up to my eyeballs in detritus that no one besides me cares about(and sometimes my husband when he gets a free thought moment that isn't clouded with techie engineer crud and paying our mortgage.) Third, fuck you, I am funny and if you waxed vag all day, you'd realize that you can't do that job and not be funny. So, if I want to rant and rave, well as Bobby Brown says(and we know that he is oh so sage and quotable)"It's my prerogative."

So here goes, FormerlyFun decree #213

People, please stop cheating on your spouses.*

Now if me saying that makes you angry, you are probably doing someone something you shouldn't. Knock it off.

Honestly, isn't this kind of like having to tell kids not to wipe their nose on their sleeve? Doesn't it really go without saying? Come on, you promised, the rules were clearly laid out, it's not like the Columbia record club and you just signed hoping for the free cd, never really thinking about the others that would come later.

Grow up. It's unfair. Unfair to your partner, your kids if you have them, your friends and family who have probably made effort and room for this person you brought into their lives. It's unfair to you. You deserve better. If you're not happy, get out, get happy. If you can't get out then turn your energy inward and as Tim Gunn says, "Work it out." Most of the unhappily married people I know can get out. It would just be much more challenging than staying put. Yes, maybe you'd be poor for a while or not have a date for the company function or be the talk of your town or have to go back to work or downgrade your lifestyle or admit you wanted better for yourself or confront your families or disappoint your kids or feel like the latest failure..... But you would be free to figure out what you want or who you are or whatever.

But FF you say, I fell in love, I really love this new one. I call bullshit because love is something you work at and cherish and protect. Love is not some woman in your office that "gets" you or some man who is unable to communicate frustration to his wife and therefore needs you to make it bearable... If you love someone that much then leave them alone you are going to ruin their life(don't care) and probably a lot of other's who didn't get to decide they wanted their families torn apart(do care). And the fun part about marriage is(with very few exceptions), you bring half the problems so they are likely going to trail just behind you right into the next relationship unless you deal with them in the current one.

The grass is rarely greener. That guy who is wooing you now is just someone else's version of your husband that seems better because you don't share the conflicts that come with combining your life with another person. And mister, that twentysomething will get older and nag you just like the one you have now except you are going to have to work even harder to keep her happy because really, she's out of your league. And someday, when you have old man boobs and you are trying to make the last wisps of your hair cover your liverspotted head, she is going to be looking at you wondering whatthe hell she did and hoping the payout is there because there had better be a payout for bedding your old ass.



*I am not addressing any of you specifically, only the current near epidemic of shenanigans I am seeing around me and yes, I said shenanigans because I have the vocabulary of an eighty-five year old woman.

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