- Can we band together to make oil pulling go away? Even though it's technically right up my alley given my propensity towards things like vinegar as a cure-all/do-all and food being medicine and all the other hippie stuff, I just abhor it as a concept and it makes me want to curl up and die like an inchworm each time I see something about it. Today a marketer sent me something about it and...no. No, Marketer of Oil Pulling, no.
- We visited Santa (at Macy's 8th Floor Display in Minneapolis, per usual) and I decided that Husband-Raj-Max (this new name is not working out for anyone, is it?) and I should jump in the picture to keep Lily appeased and that was a mistake. I now don't like this picture at all, especially because I made the poor fashion choice of a white top (am lumpy-looking like Cream of Wheat) and I'm sitting (so further lumps) and I'm angled towards the front so extra large compared to all and womp, womp. So this years Santa picture will remain Secret Santa for now, only to be exposed on our fridge.
- Back in high school, when I was a senior and my brother was a sophomore, we often arrived very early to school, like 45 minutes early. This seems like an odd phenomenon in retrospect, but I also used to wake up at 4:45 AM to do AP Biology homework my junior year of high school so I guess it was just how I was? Which seems so strange. (Related: I thought high school was a far bigger ass-kicker than college. High school was multiple hours of school then hours of homework PLUS multiple extra curriculars and jobs and such. College was a handful of classes and lots of napping and one easy-ish job and extra curriculars that involved wooing boys and eating pizza.) ANYWAY! The point. So my brother and I were dropped off so early that we would be the first to make footprints in the snow as we walked in. (There was always new snow. See: North Dakota winters.) We would either choose: The Ethan Frome (drag one leg behind you while maintaining regular footprint with opposite leg) or The Alternating Pigeon/Ballet (a few steps with your feet aggressively pointed in and then a few with them dramatically in first position). Then we would get inside the school and not talk to each other for the rest of the day.
- It occurs to me now that while I was playing snow games with my younger brother as a senior, Husband-Raj-Max was being voted prettiest or most sporty or biggest womanizer or something. It is best that we met later in our lives for all involved.
- I have another story about the high school. In 1996, when I was a sophomore and my sister was a senior, there was a terrible blizzard and school was cancelled midday. My dad came to pick us up in his Lincoln, a car which he had super randomly purchased from a used car lot. The entire inside was covered in a one inch layer of royal blue velvet. Apparently that was his mid-life crisis car. Again, I am losing track of the story. Okay, so it's horribly snowy and it's the kind of snow that is actually tiny pellets of ice that attacks everything and turns the world into ice. #YesVeryArendelle I saw my dad pull up to the roundabout and I carefully made my way to the car, grabbed the door handle and then straight up slipped and slid UNDER the car. One second I'm a normal high schooler wearing my best Calvin Klein jeans and nowhere near enough winter gear and the next second I'm laying on my back under a car. I was totally fine but HORRORS HORRORS DID ANYONE SEE ME DO THAT ZOMG. I scrambled into the car in a cloud of shame. Two minutes later my sister came out and did the exact same thing. It was the best of times and the worst of times and it was G-D funny, for sure. Then we drove home and probably slid into the ditch a few times because that was how life was for us country kids in the winter. No stories about uphill both ways because Fargo has nary a hill to be seen for miles around.
- This seems like a good time to tell you that I'm so un-used to any variation in elevation that I get very scared about parking on any sort of an incline and I can barely handle driving up anything mildly steep and HOW DOES SAN FRANCISCO EVEN WORK?
- This morning Oliver told his preschool buddy's dad that his dad is a fire fighter. That is not true.
- Also this morning, we were looking at baby pictures of each of the kids (somehow there was a spare hour of time to fill this morning before school drop offs...sigh and also: why?) and we got to a picture that was just of me. Bella stopped Oliver from advancing to the next picture and turned to me and sweetly said, "I know you will want to look at this one for awhile." LOL
- Let's talk about periods. You: NO. Me: YUP. Okay, so I recently became a woman. I mean, my period is back. This is months and months earlier than with either of the first two (maybe because of my copper IUD? Or because Lily is just smaller and less night-needy and therefore less nursing?) and I can't say I'm a fan. Of course, 8 months out is pretty good so I shall not gripe further. Since I've only had about 5 real periods in the last six years (insanity), I have not branched out to the new fangled diva cups. Dare I give them a go? Feedback, SVP. In then meantime, every kids favorite forbidden toy, tampons and other feminine supplies, are back under the sink, ready to be unwrapped by the dozen, doused with water and tossed about. Modern day pig bladders, I guess.
- Ok, must wrap up this finely crafted piece of literary brilliance as I have some Shutterfly calendars that won't make themselves. No siree, they won't.
- SHIIIIIT. Lily is done napping and the calendars have not been calendared at all. Ruh roh.
(Mr. Frome if you're nasty)