Group Costume

Since Girl 1 could partake in trick-or-treating (i.e. walk on her own because I am not carrying her throughout the neighborhood*) we have themed the Halloween costumes. So the kids don't know anything else and dr soc and I will never tell them otherwise. 

*I did not apply the same logic in 2018 and carried 3 month old Girl 2 like a fool but almost 3 year old Girl 1 still walked when we were My Little Pony

This year we were Mario World:

Rosalina, *Power-up, Peach and Luigi
*people asked if they could punch dr soc a lot and he said yes if he could punch them back

One of my favorite Halloween *group costume stories of all time is from my early 20's and I wasn't even a part of the costume.

*favorite group costume in my early 20's was the sins. Yours truly strutted around the party in lingerie* as lust and totally got the boy I wanted.

*once again: early 20's     

Anyway, favorite story: I was getting drinks with some friends who had gotten married in September (I had been a bridesmaid btw). 

Newlywed girl (dreamy sappy voice of smug newlywed): It's our first married Halloween! We have to do something together! 

Newlywed boy (enthusiastically): Let's go as a horse!

Me and everyone else: (laughs)

Newlywed girl: (purses lips, glares at all of us)

They aren't married to each other anymore 🤷

Birthday Present

Last year I set an intention for my 40s: become a published author.  Granted as of today I still have 9 years to make that happen, but I want it to happen sooner rather than later. Because...I wrote a book. Yup, I really did. A whole 105K words and 238 pages of...well, no spoilers. 

Okay, okay, it's a work of fiction covering events that may or may not happened the years prior to this blog starting that also may or may not be NSFW. Please note that names, characters, business, events and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to any actual of the aforementioned nouns, living or dead, are purely coincidental. 

So....yeah. I want a legit book deal. A deal that works with editors, publishers and promoters who do the work of selling millions to book stores. Not to mention they would arrange the book tour because I don't have the energy or time to do that with being a working mom and all. If that doesn't happen I know I could self publish, but I don't want to do all that work either for the same reason.  

If anything this blog and the reactions I receive have given me an overinflated sense of confidence that I already have an audience. But I really do think I have a story and a writing style that people who don't know me would actually want to read.

So for my birthday this year, I'd like a book deal. If anyone can make that happen you'd usurp dr soc as my favorite person.       

Truths

 Welp. As of today I'm 40. (FUCK). I mean, it's great I'm here. My 20s were fun, and I married the love of my life. My 30's I had my children and those two are...my greatest joys and my greatest annoyances. So my 40s...let's see what this decade brings! 

But what kind of milestone birthday blog would this be if I didn't do some sort of soapbox reflection? So I will present you some truths I stand by my 40 trips around the sun

• A good pen will make or break your day.
• A person's use of spell check is a determining factor in friendship levels.
• I loathe text talk.  
• Pandas are assholes.
• The patriarchy sucks.
• There is nothing redeemable about a Tuesday. 
• Glitter is the herpes of crafts
• Never trust a girl without girlfriends.
• Or squirrels.
• Always, always smell the milk first
• Generic applesauce and oatmeal taste like cardboard
• There is no such thing as a "quick trip to Ikea."
• Don't buy generic toilet paper. Ever
• Tupperware is unable to be organized and is my nemesis.
• You can never have too many coats.
• Or chairs.
• Or books! (don't you say a thing dr soc!)
• Removing that stay hair bothering the crap out of you from your clothes is one of life's greatest victories.
• With small children it's best not to ask what a stain is.
• Wearing a dress or skirt with pockets automatically defaults to a good day.
• I cannot please everybody. I am not a taco.
• A taco can fix almost everything.
• I'm very likeable.

Fact Check

Apparently, facebook flagged this:

 as false and decided to shame me by labeling it so. This. A post a few people liked about a custom of women...wearing (1920s) bathing suits...eating pizza to annoy men. I mean I may not don a bathing suit* but eating pizza and as a bonus annoying men? YES. YES PLEASE. But this, this isn't factual? How disappointing. And also, I'm calling bullshit.

*restrictive clothing, duh, no thank you. Also how am I going to control men to not rape in a bathing suit? 

It's not like, a post on the popular custom of, say, racism. 
Or a post on a nonexistent pedophilia ring in a basement (also nonexistent) of a pizza parlor and a white male shot a gun into said pizza parlor. 

Or that the 2020 election was rigged. 

Or something from f*x news that always tells, informs yells, screams the truth vitriol, lies, misogyny, lies, animated, hateful rhetoric, lies, opinions of the fragile white privileged males people. Nothing that harmed or killed people.

No. A post about women eating pizza to annoy men must be fact checked and deemed as false. Because that is the real danger here.

But I suppose if these giant companies are now going to make a valiant effort hold everyone* accountable for their posts they have to start somewhere. 

*Except males, especially the old white powerful *ones. Males will never be accountable for anything.

*Especially them.  

Shame shame on me for not fact checking something that supports my ever growing desire to fuck the patriarchy.

Pick your battles

Dr soc has been on this eating healthy salad kick so ultimately I don't have to kill him for dying on me. Seeing as we've been together* for 11 years as of today I need him to stick around as my partner in crime, parenting hijinks coconspirator but mostly someone I can occasionally talk shit about when I'm deflecting from my own shortcomings. 

*as well as put a ring on it and let him get me pregnant twice 

Anyway, back to the salads, he eats a lot and prefers a larger bowl for his rabbit food. The largest bowls that we have are the mixing bowls, but I have a hard line that you do not eat from the mixing bowls. See I almost killed someone for always eating out of the mixing bowls and I could never use them for cooking when I needed* them. To save my future relationships and myself from heartbreak, I drew that line and decreed it a rule. Dr soc is awesome and obeys and I tweeted how glad I am for that because divorce is a lot of paperwork.  

*that same someone never did the dishes either 

I'm explaining the origins of that rule and a coworker who's been married for longer than I've been alive, and they decide to impart the following wisdom about marriage: pick your battles.

My response: I have! This is one. DO. NOT. EAT. FROM. THE. MIXING. BOWLS! 

Love you honey! Thanks for not making die on that* hill!

*I'm sure there will be others. I just don't have to die on that particular one.

10 years later

So. In 2008, that is 10, yes, 10 years ago, I started this blog with 100 things about me. 
Some things in that 100 haven't changed. Such as: 

• My favorite color is pink.
• I talk all the time unless I am exhausted or mad as hell.
• I do whatever Jeanne tells me (PS: buy her yarn!)
• I'm allergic to cats (including that mother f*cking one)
• Text talk is one of my biggest pet peeves.

Some things are in the past and therefore cannot change. Such as: 

• My appendix ruptured and had to be removed when I was 6.
• I had my belly button pierced until I was 21 when a drunk wrestling match went horribly, horribly wrong. 

Some parts of things have changed. Like: 

• In 2008: I know so much random pop culture stuff, but not as much as my friend LB. 
• In 2018: I know practically nothing pop culture unless I heard it on NPR. LB still knows more than me though so I have her explain things. Or have my (much) younger coworkers explain things to me (occasionally I get to tell them stories of my youth).  
• In 2008: I don't judge my friends. But everyone else is fair game. 
• In 2018: I don't cast my judgement net as broadly. I realized for the most part no one really knows anyone's story. So when I do judge it's typically warranted or I'm just being a bit (or lot) of an asshole.

And some things are just not the same at all. Like: 

• My dad was alive in 2008. He was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia in 2010 and up until he passed away in 2015 it changed so much. It changed my parent/child relationship with both my parents. It lead to some serious crisis's. I found courage I didn't know I had. The fights my mom and I got into. He died right before father's day and while I was pregnant with little turkey I'll never forget being there when he died, and how it it was one of the saddest and strongest moments of my life. I miss him so much and always will. 
• But the biggest most changing thing that has happened in 10 years is that I married the love of my life in 2012 and we have two children! 
• Because when I started this blog I had just broken an engagement. It HURT for a long time. It was hard. I grieved over my could have been, I vented. I cried. I was angry. I wished a lot. I wondered. I doubted. 
• BUT! Ultimately, many, many, much more wonderful things were a result of that broken engagement. Like having an epiphany. Discovering what I truly wanted in a a husband. I celebrated things. And came up with multiple, (often time) hilarious, random lists. So the day came and went and life moved on. 
• And life got better. I met dr.soc and we clicked pretty quick. He had 19 out of  21 of my husband checklist. I was so happy engaged to him and swirling around in the bubble of tulle. Sometimes I'm a great wife and other times not so much. Our marriage isn't perfect (no one's is) and there were tough times I didn't talk about here. But our marriage is good, it's strong, our anniversaries keep coming and I know I wouldn't love him the way I do if I hadn't given back that other ring.  
• AND, dr soc and I created our own family! Which changed everything. Parenting will probably be what this blog will be about more often than not. Sometimes I'm a great mommy and have instagram to prove it. Other times I'm bad mommy and phone it in. It's all about finding the balance. But now my future think is beyond my own lifetime. I'm willing to fight for things, to voice my opinion, and try to make the world a better place now for my girls. Motherhood is hard and very challenging at times, but it's also one of the most fulfilling and wonderful things in my life.  

So. Ten years later, here I am! I hope my life is just as happy in another 10 years. Thanks for reading y'all!  

Go Viral

It's a not so secret dream of mine to have one of my social media posts go viral. Or make it onto the huffington post funniest parents and/or women lists. However nowadays people go viral for the wrong reasons (major embarrassment, social gaffe, racist/sexist/idiotic/etc behavior followed by (hopefully) public outrage), so "going viral" probably shouldn't be on my life's accomplishment's list.
  
Anyway, I'm on my social media a lot right now (I'm on leave, newborns are pretty boring, the toddler is every bit a 2.5 year old so I have to vent and daytime tv sucks). All of those platforms have ads which I normally gloss over and dismiss. But this time I noticed all the ads were for diet products, workout routines, waist trainers, supplements etc, all these...things in an effort to motivate me to become an even "better" me.

And I'm like, I just had a baby. She's not even a week old, we're talking days. I housed a tiny human in me and literally pushed them out of my lady parts. Some might even consider that the epitome of what a lady's body can do. Here I am, sleep deprived, mentally exhausted, sore everywhere, ice packs on my raw nipples, wearing diapers (postpartum life is disgusting y'all), super hormonal, in addition to raising two very needy small humans to not be assholes and I'm supposed to be pretty too? WTF?
   
So I posted this on facebook: 

All the diet ads/products on my feed imply I should be getting back to societal set beauty standards and be ashamed of my current body for producing a healthy baby. 

Guess what world? Fuck off!

Us ladies giving a middle finger to that mindset
I also like the prominence of my double chin and how I don't give a rat's ass 

I tagged my husband (because when it involves the kids that's pretty much what we do), and got a respectable amount of likes and comments applauding my fuck off. In fact, one of dr soc's friends copied and pasted my status and gave me credit on her own wall and she got lots of likes too! So in my own way, I'm going to count that as going viral.

Achievement unlocked!

It's What I Do

For the longest time dr soc wanted a bench for shoe storage in our foyer-ish area for the 4 times a year people use the front door, and for the longest time I resisted. But with 16 people coming for Thanksgiving I finally acquiesced to it, but since I can be very particular when it comes to furniture, it was on me to find one we both liked.
So I found one on Amazon I liked and two days later (love Prime) it was on our doorstep. Dr soc assembled it, we put it in place and...it didn't look right.
Dr soc was indifferent on it but I liked it just enough to think about keeping it. So dr soc found another spot for it in the house because he loves me. But that spot made me indifferent on the bench. And then this conversation happened:

me: I'm fine with where that bench is. But you know that it's just going to become another spot I put stuff* on and clutter.
dr soc: But you don't have to put stuff there...
me: Yeah but I will. It's what I do.
dr soc: Yeah but you don't ...
me: It's what I do.
dr soc::sigh of resignation:: Can we send the bench back?
me: Yes. (once again, love Prime)
dr soc: Ok. Do it.

* he loves me decidedly less when the sprawl gets extra sprawly.

Old Wives Tales

Want to know what Little Turkey is? We do too! But until baby make's it's big debut, we're just going to have to rely on the old wives tales I've been collecting (from the internets, coworkers, and completely random strangers all have opinions) and speculate. So:

1. Sleep position: Sleep on my right side = girl, Sleep on my left side = boy
• I try to sleep on both sides, but I usually start and wake up on my right. Girl
2. Nausea: Sick as a dog = girl. Happy no nausea preggo? (those b*tches!)? = boy
• Ugh, the 1st trimester overall nausea, dinnertime puking, random breakfast second trimester puking, and now the occasional wave of 3rd trimester nausea. Girl
3. Soft or dry hands: soft = girl, dry = boy
• I have both. Dry after washing my hands (which I do after going to the bathroom every half hour. So a lot), but then soft since I moisturize right after (which also happens about every half hour as well). Neutral
4. Food cravings: sweet cravings and citrus = girl. Salty cravings = boy 
• Oh the sweet tooth! The baby does a little happy dance when I indulge (I bought a billion bags of Halloween candy (I had coupons! $2 off 3, you bet your ass I did!)) And I have a glass of orange juice in the morning which is new. But then again, I love pickles on my hamburger and I typically only like a bite of pickle every 3 months or so. And I've selected  salty treats here and there too. But the sweet tooth is the overall ruler. Girl
5. Girls steel your beauty, boys enhance 
• Zits, oh the zits. My normally beautiful, soft, smooth, unblemished skin that is the envy of many is breaking out like crazy (3 zits at one time?!). Solidly girl  
6. Graceful swan= girl. Clumsy = boy
• I'm already a little clumsy, but now I knock myself into everything. I fall over in yoga. And my tummy bumps and gets in the way all the time. And why is getting up so difficult?  Boy
7. A fuller full face = girl. Normal face = boy
• normal face Boy
8. Moody? = girl. Even keel = boy
• People need to stop being so incredibly stupid if they don't want to irritate me. Some idiots can't even breath without showing their ineptitude at life. Which, no. I've been throwing some serious shade (refer back to number 2 if you need further clarification). I spit nails the other night because I couldn't access a silver alert and possibly help someone. My grouchy levels are high and my bullshit tolerance is non-existent. And the feels! Why is anything that is supposed to illicit the feels have so. many. feels?! WHY? So..uh yeah, girl. 
9. How I carry the belly: high = girl, low = boy
• No idea. I have a longer torso and my belly is right in the middle. Neutral 
10. How I carry the belly "sports" edition: cute round basketball shape belly = boy. Not as cute wider pointier football shape belly = girl 
• Adorable basketball belly. Boy
11. Weight gain in the front = boy, weight gain that spread out = girl 
• Considering people figured out I was pregnant before I told them because my ass getting wider, we'll give that one to the girl. 
12. Conception age and the year are both even or odd = girl. An even/odd combination = boy
• I became pregnant at 32 in the year 2015. So even/odd combo is a boy.
13. Internet Chinese gender prediction: enter your age and month you conceived baby and hit the predict button (I don't know the maths/reasoning behind these calculations) They just gave me 
• boy 
14. Heartbeat: 140+ = girl 140- + boy
• All heartbeat readings have been 140+ girl
15. Mommy's dreams: whatever you dream you're having, opposite is what comes out.
• Around 20 weeks I dreamed we were having a girl. Boy  
16. Tie husband's wedding ring to a string and dangle over my tummy. If it spins in a circle = girl. Spin back and forth = boy (This one is the most accurate because we tested this one over my friend's tummy who is also pregnant and we know she's having a girl, and her spin was a definite circle) 
• Back and forth, 2 of 3 times: Boy 

So in the girl column we have: 7
And in the boy column we have: 7
Neutral : 2

So...happy speculating!

Ridiculousness

I'm at work when my co-worker (male, and maybe old enough to be my grandpa) tells me "dear, I think you have a rip in the back of your pants." I had no idea and of course I can't see it, so I'm comically looking over my shoulder turning in circles trying to look at my ass. I asked Nelson where the rip was, but then he said with some embarrassment "well, it's in a spot I don't really want to point it out..."

Upon hearing this, I know I need to go to the bathroom to look. And sure enough, my jeans have thinned so much along the seam there's a noticeable bare patch from ass to lady-parts. Cue the giggling. Fortunately for me, I'm only working a half day, and even more fortunately I'm wearing full coverage underwear. But this doesn't solve the immediate problem of there being a rip in my pants.

Now, the whole time I'm spinning in circles our other coworker could see us on the security camera in the back all he can do is laugh. I'm the MacGyver of our staff so if anyone is going to fix this problem it's going to be me. Plus we are talking about my pants, and the only one who should be taking care of those types of problems is me (or my husband) anyway. While I don't want to put tape on the outside of my pants, I figure I can put some inside just to keep the rip from getting bigger in the next 2 hours.

But then, I couldn't find any duct tape. We had packing tape, sealing tape, book tape, masking tape, double-sided tape, scotch tape and some tacky glue, but no duct tape. I decided that the sealing tape was the next best option since the width of the tape was bigger than the rip, thus I would have to use less of it. I go back to the ladies room, place the necessary amount of tape to keep the rip in place and head back to the workroom. But suddenly I have a different problem: the tape crinkles as I walk. And honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse!

At least I can sit for most of my 2 hours left, so it's really not going to be that bad, just funny. I text my husband about how silly this day has been, and his response is: "at least you are taking it in stride." Which made me realize we would be making a lot of walking/my pants puns. But I figured the whole situation was ridiculous enough, so if a rip, some tape and a couple of bad puns was as bad as it was going to get, it would be fine. But I was wrong, because then the tape starts itching.

At that point I just gave into the complete ridiculousness of the situation and giggled the rest of my shift. Sitting down. 

Helpful

My husband and I met our niece 2 weeks ago and she's absolutely perfect! She's little and snugly and I never wanted to put her down. But as much as I wanted to do nothing but hold and stare at the baby, I also wanted to help as much as a I could while there. So I cooked for 6 people (my parents were there at the same time). Or at the very least picked up fast food lunch for everyone. I went to the grocery store for some supplies and picked up some special tea for my sister. I learned how to change her cloth diapers (fortunately for me none of the ones I changed were gross poopy ones!). But what I didn't expect to do was help with the nighttime feedings. Baby and mommy were having a hard time getting the hang of nursing, so baby had lost enough weight that she needed to feed every 2 hours and to supplement with formula if she didn't latch on.

The night we flew in my sister had 4 guests in her home, her husband is working through that particular night, a baby that needs to eat but is having a hard time, and she's getting about 4 hours total of broken sleep. My poor little sister was just exhausted and stressed. As I listened to her talk about the difficulties of feedings,without a second thought I offered to help with them through the night. While I couldn't do anything with the actual nursing, I could get the supplemental bottle ready while she tried to start nursing, and I could wash anything that needed to be washed so Amy might be able to get a few more minutes of sleep. If nothing else, I could just be company. She did try to give me an out by warning me that it really was every 2 hours, but I was there to meet the baby and to help in any way that I could. So she took me up on my offer, and the look of relief on her face made me happy.

Oh god it was exhausting! I got up at 2, 4, 5 and 7am, got a bottle ready, brought the baby to Amy, fed and burped her if she didn't nurse, and then washed everything afterwards. And I only did this for one full  night! The next night I helped with the 2am, but daddy took over the 5am. I can't imagine how difficult this is every night. But as tired as I was, I wouldn't have changed a thing. And I'm not telling this story for a ticker tape parade and I'm not looking for anyone to give me praise. But it felt so good to help. That's all. It was nice nice to help.

Young Pup

One of my coworkers is very young. Nineteen young. And here is proof of this:

Laura: Have you been to that music shop down the street?
me: No, I haven't. But I'm not really a music buyer in general though.
Laura: they have other stuff there too, a lot of movies. And they have something called...I think it's vee-nall?
me: Vee-nal? --beat-- Wait. Do mean vinyl?
Laura: yeah! those big black disc right?
me: oh. my. god. you are so young you didn't know hot to pronounce vinyl.

And with that, I turn 31. Yep.
Happy birthday to me!!

Stranger Danger

The other morning Mike and I were taking the dogs on a walk when we saw a loose little dog running around. I could see that it had a collar on and Mike had his phone with him, so we decided to try and see if we could find the owner.

However, the dog wouldn't let me come near it, and it snarled and yipped obnoxiously at me as I tried to coax it into approaching me. And also as the stupid thing kept running away from me it ran into and across the street at a time when a lot of people are leaving for work. Eventually the dog took off running into the neighborhood, towards the direction in what we hope was where it lives. Mike and I decided to not go after it since it wanted nothing to do with us, plus our dogs were starting to go nuts from just sitting there. There wasn't much we could do when the dog didn't give us anything.

We're continuing with our walk I turn around and mention to Mike that I'm really glad that when our dogs got out that they were complete trusting doofuses and ran up to a human who called us. It's a good thing for us that they don't have a stranger danger sense.

Then later that day at work someone left a few pieces of chocolate on my desk when I wasn't looking so I don't know who put them there. I probably should have been more wary of the mysterious candy and all stranger danger, but nope. They were wrapped, it was valentines day and I love chocolate, so I totally ate them anyway (and suffered no ill effects). I guess we know who the dogs got their lack of stranger danger sense from.

Depends

It's incredibly depressing to say this, but it's true. I'm never going to be completely independent.
I know it's not a first world problem, and it's a pithy thing to feel down about.  And the fact that I've never been without support (financially, emotionally) is so rare and lucky and makes me seem incredibly heedless for what I do have.
My lot in life is by no means a bad one.  I have a roof over my head, people that love me, and I even have a job.  And my job isn't bad, but it's not my ideal and it's not my career.  The random hours are pretty rough on me, and I like my coworkers and the job itself.  And the glaring fact here is that I have a job which is which is more than many people even have. And here I am lamenting over that I'm not in the career I want and how I can't wait to start graduate school to get there.  A lot of people don't get the breaks I've had in life.  And I'm whining about it.
But I'm nearly 30 years old. And I've always been taken care of. First and foremost by my parents, and now my husband. And I get a lump in my throat when I face how far I haven't come.

Ready

The wedding's tomorrow! The wedding's tomorrow!!!!! SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!
After planning this thing for a little over a year (and a half, but shh, don't tell Mike), I can't believe that this day is almost here.  Obviously, I'm excited. And I'm nervous too, but not nervous to get married. Nervous that everything will go right.  But I'm not worried too much, because I know that at the end of the day we're still married. I'm just ready.
I'm ready to be Mike's wife. I'm ready to stand up there in front of our family and friends and say our vows, telling the world with a ring we will spend the rest of our lives together (if he dies on me first I will kill him).
I'm so incredibly lucky. It's a pretty wonderful place to be!

Too Pretty

Ok, so I'm not tardy to the party or anything, but I'm 5 weeks from my wedding and haven't had time to snark about this until now. The writer who whined about being too beautiful.  Due to her ravishing looks, she's constantly spoiled by unwanted attention and lavish gifts of champagne and caviar that she never asks for, she's never been a bridesmaid, and women won't eave their husbands' sides if she's in the room. And not surprisingly, she doesn't have any female friends.

First: never trust a woman without girlfriends.
Second: to no one's surprise (except maybe her's) the reactions weren't met with any sympathy. And not only was there no sympathy, there was some, shall we say, backlash.

I am under no delusions that I am an attractive woman.  But I have not been showered with unwanted gifts of champagne and caviar, (first, because a gift of champagne is always a welcome gift in my world. Caviar though, I'll pass) nor am I constantly being burdened with upgrades to first class plane tickets. (the only time I have ever consciously gotten the pretty girl discount, was when my $3 and something left on my uk plus account was enough for the $6 something I needed for a pair of replacement lab goggles the one time I forgot them before chemistry lab.)  But you don't see me "complaining" about it like this brittish chick.

It's dirty common knowledge that pretty people sometimes have it a little easier in some areas. But no one want to have that acknowledged. So all she was doing was rubbing the not so pretty people's faces in it it seemed. And pretty doesn't make you a better person. But I guess it doesn't matter if you're ugly (or just less than beautiful) on the inside, because the pretty shell seems to be all you need anyway.

Something Worth Praying For

Part of what annoys me about Tebow is that constant praying.  I'm not bashing his faith, but praying to win a football game is such a trivial matter.  Like throwing yet another erratic pass is going to help the world.   

I'm not really one for praying these days. I've never had a very strong faith base and religion hasn't ever been a huge guide post for me. And to be completely honest, I lost a lot of the little faith that I had when my dad was officially diagnosed. 

Dementia is the most heartbreaking thing.  Everything about it is just so hard.  Slowly loosing someone over time, putting you in a revolving, yet never ending stage of grief.  The helplessness of knowing you can't do anything.  There are drugs out there that slow down the disease, and those are wonderful.  But there's still nothing out there that can repair the damage or that would cure it.

Until soonish.  Because this super pill could be a real possibility. Something that would fix memories and heal brains.  Something to hope for, in a disease that has no hope. This pill, if possible, is worth praying for.

Size Matters

I get a decent amount of comments on my engagement ring from strangers.  The reason, besides it being awesome and from my dr soc, is because it's big.  Carat wise, it's not ostentatious.  But the center stone cut, the setting and my hand shape all work together to really make it a noticeable piece.  Every time someone notices my ring, and says something along the lines of  "lovely ring," "oh my goodness," or my personal favorite "wow!" (my dad!), I can't help but grin ear to ear and puff with a pride a little.  Then I tell Mike about it as soon as I get home.    
I know that the sentiment and symbolism is what matters in an engagement ring. And that I am lucky enough to even one have is nice.  But I am a jewelry kind of woman.  And I love my ring. 

But the moral of this story: Size matters.

How it feels

The knot sends me promotional emails which I normally glance at, say don't drink the kool-aid and delete.  But this was a registry thing at a store I wanted to register at... So, I drank the kool-aid. But not too much.  It was SO. MUCH. FUN. 
Sometimes it's hard to not compare things about this wedding planning and the last wedding planning I did.  But not in a tit for tat sort of way.  It's more of a glance back and marvel at how wonderful this has been this time. Just how much I'm looking forward to everything with him. 

The other wedding....well, I was never this excited about it.  I had moments where I would be all yay! after I did something, Like after I booked the church, but that feeling would quickly fade.  And even though I had the date, the venues, and even a dress, something still just felt off.  I didn't google search 14 different paper vendors to find the best price for invites like I did this time.  I didn't rack my brain for the perfect bridal party gifts.  I didn't realistically think about how many place settings to ask for because I didn't realistically think about hosting the big extended family gatherings. (btw, we now need a table that will extend to seat 10-12)  I never got this far and detailed into the wedding planning before.  Not because I didn't have the time to do so.  I just didn't feel it.

So as Mike and I are traipsing down the aisles of Crate and Barrel (ok, I'm traipsing, and Mike is following and scanning whatever I hold out to him) debating the merits of a lipped or non lipped dinner plate (we went lipped. And asked for 12), I thought to myself: this is how it feels.  This is how it's supposed to feel to be engaged.  Hopeful. Excited. Deliriously happy.  And right.  It just feels right.  It's a pretty wonderful place to be.   

Pet Cause

First: rest in peace Steve Jobs.  I'm a pc girl myself, but your innovation changed the world and you are a legacy. Second: October is breast cancer awareness month.

Breast cancer is bad. No if ands or buts about that.  But it's not the only cancer there is.  There's colon cancer, which took my grandma. There's stomach cancer, which took my other grandma. There's liver, lung, skin, ovarian, prostate, brain, ect. If it's a part of the body, it can get cancer. And they are all horrible.

But, cancer is not necessarily the death sentence it once was.  I'm not diminishing anyone's loss.  Even with the help of modern medicine and treatments, there will be those who will still loose their battle.  Their loved ones will mourn, and awareness is brought up.  But at the same time, there are those who do respond to the treatments, and can live cancer free.  At the very least, there's hope.

But, cancer isn't my pet cause anymore.  You can't cure dementia.  You can't remove the tumor or live dementia free.  You can't have the person you once knew back.  I can't tell my dad that everything will be ok after "this." I don't have the same kind, sometimes any, hope. 

It's not wrong to want to eradicate a disease. But we all have ones that strike closer to home.  And my pet cause, the one that I want cured, is a hell of a lot more important to me than walking to save a stranger's tatas.