Seething...

I'm at the library.
Seething.
Katy sent me out of the house to write.
Tonight I had a crazy thing happen on the way home from day care.
... Some kind of bullshit...
I'm so upset, I can barely make sense of it.
I am still tachycardic and breathing heavy.
I barely understand what is going on in my body...

I picked up the boys from day care. I was in a pretty good mood. It started pouring when I was about 2 miles away from them, but no big deal. Then JB decided that he didn't want to hold his lunch bag and somewhere in between, "I don't want to hold it," and "I WANNA HOLD IT RIGHT NOW!!!" (He has some "normal" 3-year old mental block(s) when it comes to decision-making) He lost his shit.

I found myself saying, "That's not how we get things, by crying and screaming..." This is our mantra some days and Katy and I try hard to not cave in. Like, these kids have to learn that they can have whatever they want (pretty much) but not if they are screaming and shouting and crying to get it... He wanted to HOLD HIS BAG... Not a big deal, but I didn't want to let him because "screaming and crying is not a way to get what you want". But then I got a "get out of jail free card" because he wanted to "HOLD HIS BAG- THE FIRST TIME".
(That's JB speak for "I changed my mind, and even though I said no when you offered that option, I want to do it. But I don't want to do it NOW, I want to do it THEN, as in- Can you please re-wind the tape and send us back in time so I can do it 'right' the first time?!?")

No, son. I cannot.

Cue hysteria.

These little fuckers don't know anything about quantum physics or the lack of advances in time travel.

So.

Pouring rain. Driving in traffic- headed to the grocery store. JB just screaming and crying in the back seat. I pull over and try to reassure him and reason with him. I try to wait it out a bit- sometimes a change of plan like sitting in a parking lot instead of just driving on, snaps him out of it. While we pulled over, i washed his face with a pre-moistened towelette. I tried to get him to take a sip of water. I am really really frustrated, but I am actually doing the right things, not screaming, not outwardly over-reacting, trying to find some way to distract him.

I start driving again... I'm a little raw and jittery... I almost have him calm- we are at a stop light and I am flipping though iTunes on my phone trying to get the Disney play list on for little mister "losing-my-mind" in the back seat.

This guy in the right lane next to me (but diagonally in front of me) in a big red pick up is trying to say something. I don't know what he is saying, but he is animated. I roll down the window and hear "light". I'm thinking It's something about my tail light... I panic a little in reaction to how he is gesticulating, like maybe my taillight is on fire or something. Then he's like shouting at me about how I have two kids in the car and I'm on my phone....

I'm not on my phone.

He's still shouting.
My blood pressure is rising.
JB who has stopped crying is like, "Why that guy is yelling, Mommy?"

I'm about to flip out on this guy- I don't know what he is talking about, but HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE IS TALKING ABOUT. He has no idea what has just been going on in this car, and he is giving me some "I'm-a-white man-in-a-pick-up-and-you're-a-female-driver" kind of reprimand. The light turns green. I lock eyes with him when i finally realize what is going on and curse him out to the tune of "YOU fucking ASSHOLE!!!"

Oops.
Kids in car.
I have never done that before.
I'm shaking. Trying not to cry. At wit's end. So mad I could spit. He pulls out in front of me and goes straight, even though he's in the right turn only lane. I stall the car. Restart the car. Try to stay focused through the rage. I expressly concern myself with not tailgating him or smashing into him. I am as mad as I can remember being.

Mistake #1: What kind of truck is it? Didn't notice- red, shiny, new-ish looking... that's all i know
Mistake #2: What is the plate number? Fuming... Didn't notice- there are some chains hanging near the plate.

He turns right, into the grocery store parking lot.
That is where I'm going too. I had briefly considered following him where ever he was going- to give him a piece of my unstable mind, but then discarded the notion. I take the right turn as a sign from God that I am suppose to follow this guy and tell him exactly how much or an !$#% *%^&@# he really is...

I park 4 cars away.

I leave my kids in the car and approach him. It is still pouring:
"You are some kind of !$#% &@#!!!"
I don't even know what I said, but he blew up at that point.

Me: You have no idea what was going on in that car!
Him: You ran a red light!!!

(I did not run a red light but I seriously would never say that b/c maybe i did... I have no idea what this guy is talking about. If I ran a red light, when was it? Where was it? Whoa! that's pretty scary... an Hour later I realize he is talking about the stale yellow light that I took a little liberty with when JB was freaking out)

Me: Who do you think you are?!?!?!
(I start to back up away from him, I want this conversation over)

Him: What would your husband think?!? You driving like that!!!

Pause for my brain to explode.

The world goes quiet for a minute. I see plastic bags blowing in the breeze, but hear nothing. There's an echoing whooshing sound in the distance, that i realize is the sound of air moving in and out of my lungs. Somewhere, on the other side of the parking lot, I hear a Qtip fall onto the pavement, and then sound rushes back into the world. My pulse is pounding in my neck. My mouth is dry. I am shaking.

Pause again to consider whether or not something in my brain might have actually exploded...

This guy looks to be about 40 to me (give or take 5 years.) He's got chiseled features, and looks fit. He's wearing hunting pants or army fatigues and either has 2 day's growth of stubble, on his face, or is one of those wolf-men that needs to shave twice a day. Though he gives the general impression of a redneck "fisherman", he does not give off a "psycho" vibe, just a self-congratulatory "asshole" vibe. This is not a grouchy, old man. This is not a plucky, young punk. This is the worst kind of arrogant adult male- who thinks he is in charge of personally reprimanding a total stranger in traffic. Who thinks he's somehow in the right when he decides to berate a women who is carting her two kids to the store in the middle of a rain storm after a 9 hour work day.

So, in my head I'm like, "YOU'RE going to determine some safety violation and create a situation AT A STOP LIGHT that is truly UNSAFE!?! YOU think I was the person that created an UNSAFE SITUATION back there?!? Oh, and this is the best part... YOU THINK THE BEST WAY TO "MAKE ME FEEL BAD" about something that I might have done wrong is to bring up my HUSBAND?!? The supposed man in my life that is in charge of me and makes sure I'm taking good enough care of HIS CHILDREN?!?

Oh Buddy, you are so barking up the wrong tree...

I wished I had said so many things. I wished I had just been calmer and more "ON" my game, I could have been all like:

• My husband died tragically when I threw him from the car while texting in a pizza order and running a red light.
• My husband doesn't care at all about these kids- they look too much like his brother, he encourages me to drive recklessly all the time; just hearing about how upset you are will please him very much!
• My WIFE... (If there is any karmic justice) is in a parking lot somewhere on the other side of town, doing EXACTLY what you are doing: verbally assaulting your gay lover with a barrage of loud, self-righteous, misogynistic, uninvited commentary dripping with contempt and condescension.
  

INSTEAD... I go with the truth:

Me: Yeah, I don't have a husband. I'm married to a woman.
Him: (silence)
Me: You've got a lot of nerve and no right to speak to me about this.

He's close enough for me to smell the smoke on his breath and he doesn't back down a bit. He is completely unapologetic and he suddenly shouts that he is a town police officer.
HA! (that almost sends me into orbit). I swear if this guy is a cop, i might have to move.
Also, if he's an asshole cop, he wouldn't have waited this long to bring his occupation up.
And, if he's a good cop, he wouldn't be doing this in the parking lot.
So he's either in between an asshole cop and a good cop OR, he's NOT a cop at all.

Me: You're a cop?!? Great. What's your name?

Mistake #3: He TELLS me his name (supposedly) and once I hear the name, I immediately forget it. Like, I don't have any clue... Maybe it was Mark... Maybe it was Dan... Maybe it was Janet Jackson... It could have been anything...

I don't even remember the rest of the conversation. But I know when he starts going overboard with the "hand quotes" gesturing, saying something homophobic-sounding about "your partner", I better walk away before I end up in jail.

The rest of the shopping spree is a blur
The rest of the dinner hour is a bust. I am wiped out. Scared. Feel threatened and unsafe. I get home and send the kids in the play room, and cry as I tell Katy the story. She tells me I did not do anything wrong. I seriously consider calling the Police Department in town to report the incident and to tell them that either they have a very inappropriate cop on the force, OR they have a guy IMPERSONATING a town cop... Katy advises against it (see Mistakes 1-3).

I spend the time up until now trying to figure out why this has caused such an emotional reaction from me... It is hard to put my finger on. There are a lot of things- the assholes always seem to win; justice is rarely a possibility; I feel shamed (even though any mistake I made was unintentional); I feel "in trouble"; I feel the weigh of the absolute plausibility that the people that are supposed to be "the good guys" are more than occasionally not actually all that "good"; I feel I was put in a position where my safety and the safety of my children was tampered with; My parenting and intention to keep my kids safe was called into question...

But mostly I realize, I am angry because I am very disappointed in myself.

I consider this whole scenario an epic FAIL:

1. I lost complete control of my emotions
2. I lost my sense of humor completely
3. With my sense of humor gone, my ability to come up with snappy one liners disappeared also; if you are going to lose your cool, at least win the debate...
   
4. I totally forgot to remember the important stuff - as a nurse... as a women who has always been taught how to stay safe and how to report breaches of this safety, I don't remember what he looked like, what his name was, his license plate#, etc, his height, hair or eye color... I"m not sure if i would recognize him if I saw him...
   
5. I forgot the number one rule about being a woman: No matter how much of an asshole another person is being (especially another man), you should just walk away/ turn the other cheek. You should assume he's armed and dangerous; Even going up to this guy in the parking lot was "my mistake". If you are a woman and a man, a stranger, is acting like he owns you (or has a right to berate you), your job is to just quietly let it go, be non-confrontational, and let him go on believing he does
   
6. I was unable to disprove #5
7. This blew my day apart
8. I'm sure this wasn't even a blip on his discomfort radar; his sense of entitlement and certainty in the notion that he was right is just too high.
   

I am seething still. I am actively working on letting it go...

But the audacity and hubris of this guy. The general lack of compassion and the blatant aggression. The pretend concern for my offspring when really you are putting them in danger...
These are just a lot of really sensitive buttons to push on a Tuesday...

The last monday in June

I know it has been a dog's age since I have posted...
Sometimes keeping up with this here Gin-Soaked Olive is all I want to do and when it isn't caught up, I get tense and then I think, if I could only get back to writing I would feel better, but then there are so many things that NEED to get done, that it seems selfish and silly to not do the things you should do and so you avoid spending precious time doing the thing that you WANT to do... and then when you can't do the things you need to OR the things you want to, you start to punish yourself further by imagining some large scale strategy for re-creating the stories that you have failed to post in the time you've been away...

Maybe it's just me that does all this.

Anyway, Since I've written last, these are the things I want to catch you up on:
- Josh (Katy's brother) and Linda's wedding
- Our trip to Seattle and Portland (for the wedding)
- Summer fun at the Ta-BAR pool
- Status update on the new day care
- JB's first trip to the ER and stitches
- My birthday

All in good time.

It has been an interesting few weeks (if you can't tell from that list). It has also been a HOT summer so far. We are without central air for the first time in 5 years and trust me when I tell you, we have gotten weak. I swear that JB was sweating himself awake and then hallucinating because of the weather. ML gets really red when he is hot and it looks like he has a sunburn on his face, but when you bring his body temperature down, he color returns to normal.

So just because my eyes are burning too much (fatigue and I think from all the sweat that has run into them in the last few days) I am just going to give you the highlights from today:

2010 - the last monday in june:

8:01 AM - on my way to work, it is already 85 degrees F. Katy and I have agreed that she needs to spend part of her day off bringing the boys to their doctor b/c JB needs his last stitch that hasn't disolved out of his face yet to be removed (it's been 12 days); and ML seems like he has another ear infection: slight temp, tugging at ear, tell-tale cough.

8:03 - i realize I forgot my sunglasses and go home to retrieve them

8:10 - I've made it to the highway; I look at the dash, the temp is up to 87

8:36 - at work, check voicemail: that girl we need to fire if she calls out one more time, she's called out. Check email: very angry and obnoxious email from clinician/employee

9am - text from katy: the boys have an appointment at 10 am

10 am - Meeting

11 am - call from Katy: ML does have an ear infection- his second in 6 weeks

11:30 - another email from disgruntled clinician

1:30 - meeting

2:30 - another meeting

3:30 - 3rd email from (this time) an IRATE clinician who has apparently "nothing to lose." [The bitches I work with have no problem spewing out emotional emails to the very people that sign their checks -it never ceases to amaze me... Oh, and also, being a manager in this economy is fun. Everyone assumes you are stupid and out to get them before imagining there might have been a worse option on the table that you rejected to protect them... and keep the company doors open.]

3:40- insanely awesome 15 minute downpour

4:49 - abandonment of attempted email responses to irate/disgruntled/obnoxious clinicians

5:01 - in car; temp 92 degrees

5:40pm - arrive home. ML hasn't really slept all day. Has had 2 doses of antibiotics and looks like a kid that someone left in the sun all day without sunscreen; JB tells me he "laid on the table and let Dr K take my stiches out with no fuss or moving." excellent job, baby!

6:10 I give ML a bath

6:17 I dress ML in the cutest short-pants PJs

6:20 Katy and I give ML some motrin

6:22 I give ML a bottle

6:26 ML gives me a dubious burp

6:27 ML projectile vomits all over my shirt and the family room; into my purse, splatter on the wall and the TV table

6:30 Katy comes to get ML so that I can clean up a little and get him back in the tub; i strip down to my lady skivies

6:33 I go to get ML in time to see him projectile vomit all over Katy and the upstairs bathroom; I undress him and take him in the shower with me... he falls asleep in the shower. I dress him and hold him in the glider for nearly an hour to calm both him and me. He is coughing, twitchy, and looks so tall to me, but so tiny at the same time. I meditate on all the scary times we've had with him- worrying about his health, even though for the most part he is so healthy. I do some reiki on him. I do this "forgiveness" meditation that I learned in grad school that is mostly about forgiving yourself for not being perfect. I take time taking him in and feeling the heat rise off of his body- it is 86 degrees in the room, and he has cool cheeks and forehead, but a very warm torso and noggin'. He is the sweetest kid and I can't imagine how I would handle it if something were ever seriously wrong with him, this little illness almost seems too much to bare. I like just sitting there with him, alone together while JB gets to watch another episode of Handy Manny with his mama.

7:45 I head to the store to buy air conditioners. Katy and I have toyed with the idea of installing central air, but don't know if we can really afford it this year. We haven't purchased any AC units b/c i hate window units (they block the windows ALL summer, and can ruin the windows); and b/c we think, "summers in New England" are not all that hot... just a few weeks total all summer long... and b/c we are each still holding on to the dream that one of us will produce a compelling enough argument to "bite the bullet" and hire the HVAC guy to fill our house with ducts carrying magic/cool air. June is not over and this is at least our 7th night of >80 temps at night. I speed off to keep my sweet wife and my baby boys protected from the crankiness that comes with narrowly avoiding heat stroke on a daily basis.

10pm I finish installing an AC in the boys room and an AC in our room.

10:30 I toy with my iphone for a while- the new itunes upgrade is cool and allows for me to have a little fun grouping apps into "folders"

10:48 I skip a rational bedtime and ignore the burning in my eyes to write this down for all of you.

Soon: I go to bed.

Wow.

This might be the most interesting and informative site I have ever visited.

For all of you out there that might think this information is boring or superfluous, I don't even know what to say... except um... YOU HAVE NO BALLS BOOBS!

The internet is truly miraculous!
One time, I fixed our AC by googling "puddle of water on floor in basement" and "central air conditioning," literally saving us HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS in equipment and the butt-crack fees of a visiting repair-person.

Today i googled, "bra straps falling down" and learned more about bra sizing and support than I have been able to glean in my 16 plus years of big-bustedness.

Thanks, God.

There might be an essay idea brewing about how the internet is everything we've come to believe about God: Invisible, Omnipresent, Seemingly all-knowing, You can't see him/her/it but you know s/he/it's there, Sometimes you ask a question or start out looking to find one thing and are surprised at the answers you get or come upon something completely new or unexpected... I could go on and on with this analogy.

A week of winter weather, lies, and mayhem

Katy, and I spent the better part of the last 5 days (well really, the last 1.5 months) alternating between "preparing" hard-core and "sweating bricks" about my mom and dad's 35th wedding anniversary party which was a surprise that we (just barely) pulled off last night. There was a messy house to clean and decorate, a lot of food to prepare, and the weather forecast kept us on our toes until the last minute.

My sister and I make quite a team and are a force to reckon with if you are in trouble or if we are in "party-planning" mode. When my parents had been married 25 years, Web was just out of college and since we were both gainfully employed and proud of our financial self-sufficiency, we threw them a surprise party for about 120 at a popular restaurant. We paid for hot and cold stationed and passed apps and an open bar. I can't believe that we did that, paid in cash, and also- I can't believe that was 10 years ago. (Sweet Lord, how the time flies by.)

This time around I asked to have it at our house (trying to save a little dough, ray, me.) I admit that if I was in this alone, the party I planned would have had a lot more potato chips and frozen food. My sister pretty much insisted that the food be "gourmet" and "made from scratch." (She a little crazy, but I have to pick my battles.) Once I was "on board" with the food plan, it was quite fun. I made homemade egg rolls and west-coast-weber bite-sized crab cakes. She made risotto cakes and tri-colored polenta squares (well really they were heart-shaped.) We had shrimp cocktail, chicken satay, scallops and bacon, and prosciutto-wrapped mesclun greens. There was bruschetta, a cheese and fruit spread and a fresh veggie basket that could have been photographed for a magazine. (She has mad food design skills.) There were 5 kinds of dessert tartlets, frozen oreo balls, tini eclairs and mini cream puffs (these last two were the only "store bought, defrost and serve" items we passed; and I made that purchase without telling her until after the guests of honor had arrived.)

The night was almost thrown into chaos when my parents got stranded at the mall 10 minutes from my house and wanted to come over 2 hours before they were scheduled to arrive.

That's right... there were so many people shopping at the mall yesterday (likely because the forecast today sent 2 days worth of shoppers to the mall on the same day, one week before Christmas) that the parking lot was completely grid-locked. It was "mall parking lot exits shut down," "people running out of gas b/c their cars were idling for too long," "security guards stationed at the doors telling people to stay in the mall and not go to their cars" grid-lock. When my dad called to tell me (2 hours before they were scheduled to show up) that they were going to start walking toward my house and I should get as close as I could to the mall to pick them up, I told Kt to turn on the TV b/c I was sure they were being lied to by the mall security guards and there was actually a hostage scenario going down. I had to make a quick decision to either let the cat out of the bag, or stall and so I told them I was also "stuck in traffic" and I would call to have them "start walking" when I was 20 minutes away.

Web said it best when she gasped, "If I had a dollar for every lie I told today, I would never have to work again." In the end, they arrived at our house a little harried, but only 20 minutes early and about 1/2 the guests were there to yell "Surprise." They were indeed surprised and the party organizers exhaled for maybe the first time in 36 hours. The guests were fun and complimentary. We heard all night long that we should consider opening a catering company... Which I think Web, Kt, and I would do in a heartbeat if it didn't involve working the worst schedule imaginable for the next 10 to 15 years.

We didn't take nearly enough photos of the event, but we had about 35 in attendance- people I've known my whole life (mostly) but rarely get to see. JB was passed around like a joint at a Dead concert and he didn't fuss even for a minute!

My parents were married when they were 19 years old and it is not only amazing that they are still married, but you should see them together. They are appropriately, but not unhealthily co-dependant. They are kind and respectful of each other, generally enamored with each other, and best friends. As they advance in age, they could maybe work on rolling their eyes at each other less, but for the most part, they have created a marital relationship that is honest and enviable. They found each other in high school and were perhaps well on their way to "forever" before they even thought about having kids, but they have made me proud to be the "bun in the oven" that sealed the deal. (Not that we need to talk about that publicly.)

Happy anniversary, Ma and Pa. We love ya!
:)

I finally get it

Yesterday, I ran to the store to "get going" on the holidays. Katy had come home from her teaching gig and offered to watch the kid so I could "pound out" some shopping before the snow really started and before she had to go to job number two.

SIDE BAR: Yesterday, job number two involved going to a Christmas party with her office staff. I'm blogging about this even though I made her promise not to tell our parents that we went out into the storm to get ourselves to said Christmas party... Since we all got home safe and sound, I'm hoping it's okay to admit that we made such a stupid decision (one that put us on the road for 4 hours to travel less than 10 miles. When we could have been sitting home drinking cocoa and tea, we ventured out to eat a crappy, comped meal in under 30 minutes b/c we were late and everyone, rightfully, wanted to hit the road and get home out of the storm.)

So, before the party, I left the baby and my Boo, to shop. Even though the snow had all ready started coming down pretty hard, I was all relaxed and "happy-adrenaline." I was psyched about the snow storm, about our all wheel drive vehicles, about being alive. I was drunk on love, on purchasing power, on the blessings of the last few months. I was also pensive and feeling cosmically lucky; like a woman who has landed safely after jumping out of a plane and spending several moments in panicked free fall unable to open the parachute.

I am lucky. LUcky. LUCKy. Lu-u-u-KEYYYYY.

I was thinking of the juxtaposition of our life now and of the summer. Of the people that are not here to experience Christmas this year, and the childless dad they left behind. The sad insanity of that paradox made me wanted to run outside in the blizzard until there was a snowbank to stick my head into. I turned the radio on and Katy had this song cued up on her CD player.



And.
I.
CRANKED.
it.
up!

I turned it up so loud, the pavement under my tires vibrated and my ears strained to hear all the sounds at once. The reverberating beat was healing, cleansing, and the tiniest bit painful.
It hurt so good.
I don't even know what the hell that song is about, but it was the right song at the right time, and I felt no conflict in the complete self indulgence of the moment.

Later, I thought about all those times I've been at a traffic light and someone else's music was vibrating my tires and hurting my ears, and how cranky that made me at those moments.
I kind of smiled at my cantankerous, too-young-to-be-acting-this-old self getting all, "TURN DOWN YOUR MUZACK, SONNY!!!" And I was glad to gain a new perspective: Maybe what I have considered "noise pollution" all this time has been a necessary outlet and expression of emotion for those drivers/ disturbers of my peace.

Another day, another fucking growth opportunity (AFGO.)

ugh...

Today is one of the first times I feel truly uNcOmFoRtAbLe... There is simply not enough air.

The bean seems to have (again) crawled into my rib-cage and is playing footsie with my lungs.

I went to gap to try to find a few more maternity options, and a dressy outfit for next weekend's wedding adventures. I brought as many things as I could carry into the changing room, and after a few costume changes, I was sweating like a farmhand. It was air conditioned in there. I could feel the breezy draft, and still, several times a minute, I had to use my forearm to wipe a layer of perspiration off my brow. I was panting, dripping, and then I started to sugar crash. I quickly mobilized my credit card and purchased a huge arm-load of stuff. (I figured I could determine from home whether or not some or all items should be returned) Tunnel-visioning to the only logical cure for a my current jitters, I waddled across the street for a milkshake. But the line at StoneColdCreamery was too long. I was desperate and so I pit-stopped at KFC. It was nauseating but necessary. It was, perhaps, life-saving.

Anyway, that was hours ago. I am now at home, wearing non-restrictive clothing. I tapped the thermostat down to 71 degrees and still can barely breathe. Not to downplay the increasing hugeness of the bean inside my body, I am sure that this is at least 15% psychological. Feeling short of breath can easily initiate an unconscious sense of panic. Just the feeling of not being able to breathe can make it harder to breathe. (DAMN YOU, Biology AND evolution!!!) Plus, anxiety on the Sunday night after a vacation cannot be ruled out as a cause of breathlessness. Also, some bad news about my father's mom and worrying about her health, her future, and the affect it will have on the emotional well being of my parents and extended family is undoubtedly contributing to some of the physical distress.

Ruffles and ginghum and flowers, oh my!

A word about maternity clothes:



There seriously needs to be a butchier line of maternity clothes...

Not just for the lesbians, either. I know a lot of people that don't wear any more floral patterns or ruffles than I do - it's got nothing to do with which gender makes your mouth water. There will be a perfectly reasonable maternity shirt or pair of band-waisted pants that will come only in totally insane fabrics or with a jacked up, femmed-out, or silly-ruffled collars!



I just can't partake... I just can't suddenly start doing the ruffle thing. It's not in my nature.

Question: Are there pregnant women that work?
Finding appropriate corporate wear -who am I kidding?- "corporate CASUAL" is difficult. It seems most women buying maternity clothes need to only dress for long walks in the park and/or play or study groups.

Here's a little something listed under "work wear":



True, this is a little fancy for a walk in the park. But what is her line of business? Selling perfume?!?

I'll admit that some of my trouble stems from the fact that my favorite place to shop is off the boys sales rack at Gap. Still, I maintain that the fact that my uterus is stretching to planetary proportions is enough to prove I'm a girl... I don't need to cultivate a botanical garden on my chest, and it is equally unnecessary for my clothes suddenly sprout ruffles.



Gingham... I'm trying not to even go there.
I haven't seen gingham on anything other than pocketbooks or shower curtains in the mall in the last 20 years. But every maternity department so far has a little section that looks like Dawn Wells' dressing room.

One more: Peasant blouses.
I am not a peasant. I've worked hard, as did my parents (and my parents' parents before them) for me to be able to report this economic reality. I have no animosity toward peasants of any kind. I do find myself holding in comtempt the maternity wear industry who seem to be disproportionally interested in supplying peasants with blouses.

I have to ask... when they are pregnant and shopping, Where do all the cowboys go???

Pocket Change

You read about my recent shopping extravaganza at GAP.

Since then, I have felt so much more fashionable, but wonder why it has taken me so long to make this leap... To boy jeans.

First of all, why has this sensible sizing (waist/length) not ever been given over to women's clothes. I've been told: b/c women have different sized hips and butts and thighs. But um, yeah, so do men- We can still have different "cuts" and "styles" of pants and still start with a more logical system of sizing like "waist/length." These boy-jeans, they just fit me better- it's like wrapping up a tiny package in a large box: What's under these boy jeans? Whoa! A pretty girl.

Last boy-jean observation: So much more pocket space! I'm not kidding. The pockets on these things go halfway down my leg. What's that about?!? The other day, there was something on my chair hurting my thigh (very close to the back of my knee) and I realized it was my wallet (which sits high up on my ass, just under my belt in my girl jeans.) Is this really safe? I try to put very little in these pockets, b/c I'm just vain enough not to want to look "bumpy." But I am a SERIOUS pack rat. I could see over time all kinds of shit getting stashed. It would start innocently enough, gum, cell phone, lipgloss, lists, receipts. But then it would advance to maps, ipods, cameras, wrenches, lightbulbs, magazines, paperback novels, and anything I think I might "need later" in these pockets. A slippery slope, my friends... a slippery slope.

Purchasing Power

Today, kt and i flexed our economic muscle.

Some of it was planned: Holiday shopping kickoff.
(Bench press: 3 reps of 10)
Some of it was spur of the moment: "But Katy, I really NEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed some new jeans and shoes..."
(Bicep curl: 3 reps of 10)
Some of it was inadvertent. Like when Subaru whistled over at us, "Show me what you've got..."
(Squats: 2 reps of 15)

What we had were 2 cars due for oil changes both of whose "check engine" alerts decided to light up as if they were the tree in Rockefeller Center. Two oil changes, 4 rotors, 1 set of brakes, 1 inner and outer CV/axle boot, 4 spark plugs and wires, 1 light bulb, and 1 drive belt later we had officially kicked off the season of spending...

While Suburban Subaru assessed the needs of our cars early in the morning, we ventured out on a day of shopping in style- we had a rental car from the dealer. They gave us a 2007 Legacy which they ended up comp'ing after I signed over my last 2 weeks take home pay for the parts and labor on our wagons. Katy damn near fell in love with the Legacy... she's like a fish around shiny, new objects.

Our first stop: Gap. Once again, they have changed all the color schemes in Gap. The new style is just what I've always loved about Gap- earthy, durable, cool.

Another (not-that-new) change is the "fit" rooms are no longer segregated by gender. THANK YOU, LORD! Just briefly let me expound on the several reasons this is a great move:
1. No more waiting in "women's" lines when there is no one in the "men's" line at the dressing rooms.
2. No more waiting for young boys to run out to show their mom's the outfits they are trying on.
3. No more waiting for women/men to run out and show their opposite sex partners the outfits they are trying on.
4. No more having to get sizes and advice from only the female sales reps, when the guys are getting all the great advice and help from all of the seriously talented and interested Gap-gay-boy-employees club.
5. No more seeing trans folk get dirty looks or harassment in the dressing rooms of one of the few places in the mall with a truly androgynous look.

The other really awesome thing about Gap right now, is the shop red campaign which supports fighting AIDS in Africa- They had us at 'hello'... then they gave us all kinds of large, glossy PR photos of hot (and often respectable) celebrities wearing the goods.
Inspi(red), Admi(red), Desi(red)

Since we were at Gap several hours before we were informed about the acuity of disease experienced by our vehicular children, we felt free to really spend ourselves silly at the clothing store. We needed to support the economy, didn't we? And some of it was for charity, after all! And let's face it, my ass looks good in a $50 pair of Gap jeans.

Once we broke the spending seal, we moved on toward our goal- Christmas shopping at "Bag Day" in North Hampton. This is a traditional gimmick to spur the local economy: you get a free shopping bag and you are allowed to take 20% off any item in pretty much every store in hero-township. A lot of the businesses do 20% off store-wide, just to make it easier. It was a perfect day to be in No-Ho: Not too wet, not too warm, not too cold. We dropped a couple bills in town and were eating at Teapot when we got the news our cars would both need surgery. I would highly recommend the setting and the food for any event, but for receiving less than positive news, it was ideal!