Stream of conscious rambling from a sleep deprived nurse with English degree leanings. Either that or the psychological trait known as flight of ideas...it's a toss up.
24 September 2010
This working thing is really puting a wrinkle in the ol' bloggin'. There are a few posts that have been running around in my head for a while, and if I don't get them down, they will just float off into the dark, cobwebby corners of my mind, and then forget it! No way I'm going over there without a MLB regulation sized bat! I went to get the Glittery Hoohah electrocuted the other day. I just realized I shouldn't call it the Glittery Hoohah, lest readers, all 2 of you, think that I've been engaging in some Vagazzling. Fear not, friends! My September issues have not grown to such proportions that I would stick crystals on my girly parts, thereby rendering the Glittery Hoohah a GLITTERY Hoohah. I can't see where there is anything comfortable, or aesthetic really, about this for anyone. They have to get in the way. Although the dragonfly was cute. But if they are going to post pics, they might want to stick to chicks without razor burn and stubble. That's all I'm saying. Anyway, back to the electrocution.... We were well into said torture(that I willingly pay for. I know: shut up whiner), when I felt a rumbly in my tumbly. Oh, this can't be good. Really, can there be a less opportune or socially acceptable place to float an air biscuit? I think you would be more readily forgiven for cutting one loose on a first date in an enclose car, or ripping a loud one in the middle of your wedding vows than during an aesthetic procedure such as this. And due to the nature of said procedure, there is no way to tighten your cheeks to keep it in until the feeling passes. No, you lay there, praying and sweating like a supplicant in front of the volcano, promising all manner of behavioral and lifestyle changes that you don't intend to keep, if this moment will just faaaaaaddddddeeeee awaaaaaaaayyyyyy.
It's been nine years. In the ensuing nine years, since our view of our world and ourselves changed, have we gotten a little removed from the event? Do we look on it, even in the little time that has passed, as an event as remote from our daily lives as Pearl Harbor? A tragic event that shaped us, but is so far in our history as to not effect us? I believe it continues to shape us; it's an event that causes our future to be incredibly fluid, more so than it might have been otherwise. The images from 9/11 are harsh and still shocking. Seeing them again is like being back on that Tuesday morning, in tears and shaking that such a horrific tragedy could happen. Not just here, but anywhere.
I wish they would make Ground Zero and the field outside Shanksville national monuments. I love the pictures of the twin pillars of light reaching high and brilliant into the night sky. I wish we were not violently changed nine years ago, but since that is futile, I hope we never forget.
My friend posted this on FB and I had to repost it everywhere because it made me laugh. Mostly because the Cat from Hell is named Sylvester and this is the same attitude I get from him every freaking day.
FB spent a week in Idaho with Fun Uncle Chris and the Best Aunt and Cousin Ever. Reminiscent of the summers of my youth where our parents would turf us to our grandparents (11 miles from where FUC [ha!] lives now) for a few months. There we would say goodbye to Grandma at 7 in the morning and she wouldn't see us again until dinner. Sometimes we'd roll around for lunch and grace her with our presence and whatever smells we happen to be exuding at the moment. We ran wild and free; fishing, swimming, biking, growing up. So my bro sent some pictures:
They swear that's a foot and a half long corndog from the fair, but I have my doubts. The least offensive guess I have is a deep fried Geoduck.
FB enjoying a massive jalapeno filled hamburger. Apparently, he hammered this back along with a big order of curly fries and more than one soda. Oh, to be a growing boy.
FB and the Cuz on the beach cruisers, preparing to ride into town. I bit my tongue about the lack of protective headgear. He spent the week with the Cuz (formerly known as PChinkins..now lacking the chins) riding all over the town like some pedal power bike gang. I would like to point out that, despite FB wearing the same thing, these pictures were not taken on the same day. And that I sent him to my brothers with more than his swim trunks and a single shirt.
This may be the closest he came to bathing all week:
My bro assured me they were in the water everyday, and that he took that opportunity to keep FB as clean as the dog. After his shower the night he got home I asked him how it felt to be clean and he said that he had taken a shower that morning. When I said that was because his uncle knew better than to send him home to me without one, he replied, "Aunt Ardie wouldn't let me out of the house unless I took one first." Which frankly, makes more sense. My brother wouldn't have cared if the entire complement of passengers on the plane would need to be revived after being overcome by the miasma of funk from my boy, but the SIL is a little more philanthropic.