changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003
ms_pooka

why can't i write in this thing anymore? coffee, pumpkins, poop.

i think the biggest boat in my stream of constant anxiety is the fact that i'm falling farther and farther behind in documenting life.

with the cold weather came pants season. as i still have 10 "postpartum" pounds left to drop, my pants are still unwearable, if i don't want to cause a scene in public. i wore a skirt yesterday and the first mother out of the chute in the school parking lot, one i don't usually chat with, popped out of her car and complimented my attire. "boots are my pants," i had to admit. i mean, it's not any more difficult to put on a skirt rather than shorts, so i don't know why people get all excited. another mother, who is very warm and cold, popped out of her car in the afternoon and said, "HI, BETH." and i was like, man, you put on a skirt.

we ran out of coffee here and work has been too difficult to predict to let me feel comfortable doing things like go to the gym. or, today, to the store to get coffee (and fruit and bread and soy yogurt and eggs from happy chickens). the line at the starbucks drive through extended way up northwest highway and i didn't feel like waiting through all that, so i went to the walk-in closer to home. and i had to stand outside the door for a minute, the line was so long. it was weird looking at all these people dressed to go to work in an office. i couldn't stop checking people out. i haven't been in an office in six or seven years and i wanted to know what people are wearing these days in those foreign places. my personal fashion sense is terribly irrelevant. like, i have great fashion sense in my head. but much like my drawing skills and piano skills, among others, the current is distorted while traveling from my brain to the outside.

anyway. so i was hit on while waiting for my latte by the girl standing in line behind me. i don't know how people do that. just start talking to you. like how charlotte just said, hey...can i join your cooking club? just like that. alright, i actually could see myself doing that and then i would spend the rest of my life assuming they had said, "yes! join the cooking club!" because they had no choice. what, is someone going to tell you no, you can't join my cooking club?

anyway. so there was this nice girl chatting with me all of a sudden and i mentioned that thing about seeing everyone dressed for work and she said i looked nice and i had to admit the pants-boot-postpartum-ten-pounds thing. and every time i looked at her, i was lightly reminded of hydrozoa by the appearance of her head. i could imagine meg being translated from internet photos into something similar in real life. it was oddly familiar. she was nice. my latte called my name. we didn't exchange numbers or join each others cooking clubs.

we went to tyler last weekend for my father's 66th birthday. my favorite pumpkin patch, which we didn't get to visit last year, was closed due to drought. so we went to another with my mother. maybe i'll tell you about it sometime. admission included one pumpkin, so we were coming away with four. i gave two to my mother to put on her porch. later, oliver asked me why she kept two of the pumpkins and i said, "to display on her porch for everyone to enjoy." and we discussed the meaning of display. the next day, oliver got out this tiny pumpkin daddy had let him pick out at whole foods and he had drawn a little jack-o-lantern face on it with a black bic pen and he said, "do you think i should put this little pumpkin out on the balcony for everyone to enjoy?" and he put it out there right up next to the railing, grinning out at the parking lot. and i thought it was one of the sweetest things ever. he also had me do a photo shoot with me, him, violet, and the big pumpkins.




violet's was on a roll last night and this morning with peeing and pooping without using a diaper OR a potty. this morning, she was sitting on the floor of our closet playing and brian said, "OH MY GOD SHE JUST POOPED IN THERE IN THE CLOSET ALL OVER EVERYTHING." and i looked in there and there was some poop on brian's underwear. make of that what you will. he wanted me to throw them away, but i dunked them in the potty and put them in the diaper pail. who wants to make a bet he throws them away later?

someone tell me if i like this pattern. i can't seem to decide. i can never commit due to a fear something more totally perfect will come along. i considered doing mismatched plates, but i have a feeling that will make me feel a mess and i should just wait until i have a house and can just make one of those mismatched plate walls.



oh my god, you guys. qaddafi.
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