We recently got iPhones–an anniversary gift to each other. One of the apps you can get is a WordPress app to blog from the phone. I just wanted to try it out…
Tomorrow is the big day–the first of two.
Tomorrow Kullervo sits for the bar exam. It’s been two years of dreaming about law school, three years of law school, three months of mad crazy studying, infinite flashcards, and now we’re finally here. It’s the end of an era.
At the same time, he’s super worried, incredibly stressed, and needs a good night sleep and a a clear head tomorrow.
Conner, you’re in my thoughts and prayers.
Hopefully tonight I won’t dream about going over real property and torts flashcards with you.
If you have some good vibes, send them to Illinois!
To My Very Dearest,
Eight years ago we were married. We hadn’t known each other for nearly long enough, and we jumped the gun at nearly every turn with regards to everything to do with our wedding. Anyone who knows us well, with our impetuous ways, toweringly high dreams and ideas, and fearless optimism as a couple, will know that the way we got married suits us. I still think that one of the best quotes for us is this one from The Postal Service:
They will see us waving from such great
Heights, ‘come down now,’ they’ll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
‘come down now,’ but we’ll stay…
When I met you, it was one of my first days in Knoxville, right before classes started at the University of Tennessee. I was newly Mormon, and you were a Return Missionary. The very first time I saw you, I was smitten. Here was a guy who was smokin’ hot, funny, intelligent, and just a really nice guy. You became my home teacher; I lost all ability to speak coherently when you were around.
Still, even with obstacles like my early speech impairment, my kind-of dating your brother, some Shakespearian-type comedies of error, and the fact that I didn’t like Chinese food, we still fell in love. (And give me credit for not going into detail about your poorly thought out “theory”!) Continue reading
Someone found my blog the other day by searching for “Root Canal with Gas”.
I choose to willfully interpret this, and have decided to advise against going to get a root canal if you have gas. Although it’s possible that the pain of the root canal will eliminate (haha!) the gas pain, it’s more likely that you will just have pain in multiple places.
Also, if your dentist has gas, I would also advise against it–because all you have left when they have put the ugly sunglasses on you, pried open your mouth, turn on the drills, and you’re holding on so tight to the chair that your knuckles are changing colors is your sense of smell. And do you really want to have the kind of day where at one time, all of your sense are experiencing unpleasantness?
So, I’m a little bit heartbroken today.
First, Pap, Oliver’s beloved frog, died. We broke the news to Oliver, who cried and was sad, and asked some questions, but is doing okay.
Then, later on, Oliver yelled at me and told me to go away. So I acted extra-sad to let him know that he was saying things that hurt feelings. I asked if he was sorry, and he said that he wasn’t sorry because he was angry with me at the time and wanted me to go away. I told him that we should work on nicer ways to say that to each other then, because we don’t want to treat people that way. He said, “OK, Mom. But that’s impossible. Sometimes I’m just angry and I don’t think then.”
Um, the kid is three. What’s up with the articulation extraordinaire?
And then, to top it all off, Oliver has always called peeing “peeping”, which is adorable. And we have totally taken it on and always ask him if he wants to peep. He sat on the potty before bed, and said, “Mommy, we can’t call it ‘peeping’ anymore. It’s peeing. “Peep” is the name of a chicken. So let’s call it pee, okay?”
Kullervo then tried to say ‘peep’ a couple of times, but Oliver said that that wasn’t right.
He’s growing up much too fast. But in the meantime, he delights me every day.
I have dermatographism. It’s not terribly severe, but enough to be annoying. And to cause great delight to those who find out about it. Oh, and to make massages kind of less fun and relaxing than they might be.
Basically, I turn red, sometimes get welty, and itch like mad after things like rubbing or scratching my skin. In other words, I’m allergic to touch, as the reaction is a histamine one.
My current team at work, when they get bored, like to come over to my desk and rub my arm. And then watch with glee as I try desperately not to itch it to give them the satisfaction.
Kullervo, my loving husband, just did it too. I think he made some sort of pattern on my back. It’s itchy.
The reason I even thought about it–Hazel has a weird rash on her diaper rash, and we were worried she sat down in poison ivy or something. But then I realized that she’s probably just been scratching. Poor kid.
So, like all people, I don’t love public bathrooms. However, they are a necessary grossness–anyone with a toddler can agree (not that I could ever get Oliver to sit on one).
My top complaints about public bathrooms:
1. People who don’t flush the toilet. I mean, seriously. Do you think that the person who uses it after you really wants to see what you just did? Learn to balance on one foot and flush with your shoe.
2. Toilet paper dispensers that like to try to limit the amount of toilet paper you can use. What’s up with that? Why do they think that making it really really difficult to get toilet paper is going to make me use less? Why, when you’re handing out cheap, one ply toilet paper, are you going to try to make it one square? We can’t all be Sheryl Crow, here.
3. People who leave toilet paper spread out all over the seat. Um, gross. If YOU don’t want to touch what you were just sitting on, I certainly don’t.
4. When people don’t dispose of their… feminine hygiene products in a way that makes me not have to see them.
5. Speaking of feminine hygiene, it’s a pain when the dispensers are broken. During emergency situations, I have been known to mangle my hand to steal one when it didn’t like my quarter.
6. Pee on the seats.
So, my conclusion: Make the world a happier place. Before you exit the stall, take a quick peek and make sure you’ve left the place in a decent enough condition that the next person won’t feel like they need to soak their hands in bleach to disinfect them when they’re done.