For Jennie

Did I mention they had magnets in their little hats?

Photo by superphotosleuth Peter Johnson. Thanks Pejo! 

Aaaand, while we’re at it. . .

In The Spirit of the Season

The Days Go Marching One by One

I have very few memories of childhood, especially before age nine, but the ones I have are vivid as daylight. My mother kept the sugar in the largest of five porcelain graduated canisters shaped like mushrooms. The second largest held flour. The middle one held old necklace chains, reading glasses, and other miscellaneous items that needed repairing. The second smallest was always stuffed with the bright pink packets of the artificial sweetener that my mother dumped into her coffee in pounds, back before saccharine caused cancer. The smallest was perpetually empty.

In the largest, the sugar mushroom, there lived a small bluish-green plastic teacup from the tea set that my mother played with as a small girl. I remember it whole and complete, but when I found the cup recently, now safely ensconced in the large Tupperware canister full of flour in the fridge, it was torn down the side, soft and pliable and irrevocably discolored. I felt myself frown at the state of disrepair in which I discovered this relic of my youth while a thousand fragmented memories tornadoed through my mind with startling clarity as I slid a finger along the tiny broken handle.

When I was a little girl, very few things delighted me more than feeding the colony of ants that lived underneath my grandmother’s flower box on our front porch. I remember doing this well into my teens but my mother says that I began around five or six. As she narrated, an image flooded my mind’s eye: a five year old version of myself, with lighter, platinum hair, the same chunky thighs and endless curiosity. She would have carefully maneuvered a brown steel chair away from the kitchen table and leveraged her entire body weight to shove it over to the counter that remains, to this day, covered with bright orange Formica. She would have awkwardly climbed onto the chair to bring herself to enough height to lean across the counter to reach for the largest mushroom canister and life the lid. Knowing better than to plunge a tiny, germy hand into the whole of the sugar, she would have artfully scooped up a heap of the stuff and poured the entire contents directly into her hand, most of it simply overflowing and landing back in the canister, germs and all. Then, she would drop the blue/green teacup and clench her chubby fingers around her prize as she jumped from the chair with more confidence than she should have and ran, trailing sugar from her eager fist, all the way out the door and to the flower box on the front porch.

From there, I filled in the images with real memories from the later years that I can recall. I would deposit the loot in a small pile near the bottom of the flower box and then lie on my stomach, prop my chin up on my hands, and wait. On the best days, the sun would drizzle down as a warm, buttery glow that would cast a cool shade over me as it set behind the house. The bobwhites would coo and I would think about my grandmother, who simultaneously taught me to braid my hair and imitate the bobwhite in one afternoon. The mild summers were clean and comfortable, leaving the air so weightless that nothing stirred. Soon, the ants would discover the unbidden abundance and the fascinating ritual would soon follow. I would watch them for hours on end, each one carrying one single grain of sugar back to his colony. Often I would fall asleep there on the cool concrete and in the still air and wake up when my mother would call my name at that magical moment just before day becomes darkness. And all the sugar would have gone.

Those were good days.

As a sad smile played on my lips, I scooped and measured two cups of flour for the recipe in progress. Before I put away the canister, I turned the teacup over in my hands a couple of times. I looked at my mother and considered the gray that would fleck her hair if she didn’t fastidiously combat it with color and the lines that grace her face and the resigned mixture of sadness and wisdom in her eyes. I wondered what she remembered when she touched this cup.

Along with the cup, I put away thoughts of woebegone memories and rooted myself back in the present. In this life, a million miles away from the girl whose greatest happiness was feeding the ants, and in this world where people don’t live on curiosity alone. Glancing at my flour-covered hands, I started toward the sink to wash them. Then stopped. And dusted them off on my new jeans instead.

There are still good days to come.

The Un-Epidemic

I’ve been cleaning and putting away laundry all morning. Whilst putting away some clothes, I decided to try on some of the stuff I haven’t been able to wear in quite a while due to fatness, and to my surprise, everything except one jacket fits. I was damn pleased. But then I started thinking about things.

I read a lot of Kate Harding’s stuff over at Shapely Prose, and I agree with a lot of what she has to say. I haven’t experienced a large degree of fat hate projected towards me, but I have seen and heard it projected towards others, and I like Harding’s take on “fat acceptance,” which is a concept that I never knew existed until this past January. Her site encourages people to accept their bodies as they are, fat or not. It’s a good concept, and I agree with it wholeheartedly, but people often stumble over the health implications of it. Strange as it may seem, there are people who eat right for the most part, or at least, not any worse than skinny people eat, and are active and get plenty of exercise, who are still chubby. And really, it’s okay to accept that. Their heart rate, blood sugar, cholesterol, blood pressure, etc. may be perfectly fine (such as mine), but they just don’t seem to shrink.

Now me, I used to eat way worse than most people do. And I thought I was just fat, and that’s the way I was supposed to be. But since I’ve been working with my doctor and eating normally, I’ve dropped some weight. This is good, and I’m happy about it, but the point is to get healthy, not skinny. No desire to be one of those plastic-looking praying mantis/human hybrids.

Which brings me to the point of this entry. Where is this obesity epidemic that’s sweeping our nation? Because everywhere I look, I see people getting skinnier and skinnier. Of course, every so often you’ll meet someone who is obviously at a huge health risk due to their weight, but honestly, I’m the biggest person in most every room that I enter. So where are all these fat people who are driving up our healthcare costs?

Then I realize that the problem is the BMI, which I’ve begun to refer to as the Bullshit Medical Instrument. Shapely Prose has a whole section devoted to this. See, the BMI is currently THE tool that the medical community uses to determine if a person is normal, overweight, obese, or morbidly obese, whatever the hell those mean. Even worse, it’s a tool that those in the medical community even ADMIT is outdated, imprecise, outdated, incomplete, and outdated. See some examples, courtesy of Shapely Prose, below.

Shauna, Laurie, and Pippa are overweight:

Mindy is normal:

Fillyjonk is obese:

Robin is morbidly obese:

So is Moxie:

So, we’re all supposed to look like Mindy.

It’s bullshit. None of the girls in the pictures above are obese, or a health threat, but they’re included in the whole “1 in 4 Americans are obese and our country is a huge steaming pile of fat people that are costing us healthy people our healthcare dollars OH NOES THESE FAT BASTARDS MUST BE STOPPED!!” bullshit that is so often spat out by those outside of the supposed epidemic. I highly doubt Robin is at a huge risk for a heart attack or pigs out on pizza and donuts every night. I doubt that Shauna, Laurie, Pippa, or Fillyjonk are a huge strain on our healthcare economy. You know who DOES drive up the cost of healthcare? People who believe, because they’re skinny or otherwise, that they are “healthy,” (and therefore invincible) and do not even HAVE health insurance. Then they get hit by a bus or find out they have cancer, or break a leg or collapse a lung, and all of a sudden there they stand at the ER, wondering who’s going to pay for all of this. You know who pays for it? I do. I pay for it because the hospital has to cover the costs somehow, and a small portion of that is offloaded onto the patient, a large portion is eaten by the hospital which means they drive up their costs which drives up what they bill the insurance companies, which drives up the premiums that people who actually have health insurance pay.

So, this is my official declaration that I refuse to monitor, care about, know, or try to lower my BMI from this day forward. If I continue to lose weight in my new lifestyle, that’s just grand, but where I end up is where I’ll stay. I hope to god that I never live in an America where everyone weighs the same, looks the same, and thinks the same.

End fat rant.

This is Why I Loathe Dating

Don’t Blink

My mind gravitates toward anniversaries. Six years ago today, I went with two people I barely know anymore to get my tattoo. Most times, I love it. Today, I despise it. Nothing about life today even remotely resembles the life I was living at that point. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it isn’t.  Sleep awaits.

Self-Imposed Six-Word Sentence Soiree (with optional alliteration)

I’ve always liked the rain better. I open shades during the rain. I close them against the sun. Sunny days are way too common. Beautiful, but they get boring fast. Especially in the hot, sticky summers. We forget that there’s a balance. Rain makes sunny days more beautiful. It takes sun to make rain. But we see clouds differently now. Adults see thunderstorms in ominous clouds. Children still see shapes in them. The smell, though, is most beautiful. The sweet, metallic smell of rain. The cleansing absolution that they bring. And the comforting humidity they hold. I feel the rain completes me. What is without now reflects within. A puzzle piece locking into place.

When sad, the sound comforts me. When I’m happy, it caresses me. The drops pound windows and walls. A rhythmic cadence, calming and pure. I listen, wrapped in a blanket. Soon, I’m lost in it, euphoric. Reality fades away, replaced by simplicity. Tears no longer seem the enemy. But they don’t hurt, they heal. As cleansing as the rain outside. With every drop, sleep approaches fast. Cradled in nature’s music, I succumb. The soothing thunder sporadically envelops me. Aware, but drifting and blessedly numb. Hours pass, thunder fades, rain subsides. In the morning, I am reborn. Refreshed, resolved, and languid with satisfaction. Smiling contentedly, I close the shades. I step outside into the sun.

It’s always nicest after a storm.

More X-Files 2 Info

I know most of you aren’t interested in this, but I’m'a keep posting this stuff here just to make it more accessible to Phellow Philes trying to find information about the upcoming sequel. Just for reference, my main source of information is X-Files News.

• I should have mentioned this previously, and I’m pretty sure it’s general knowledge by now, but the working title of the film is Done One.  Popular X-Phile phraseology around this is “Done one. Make another!”
• Scully is a pediatrician working in a general hospital and is no longer employed by the FBI. This is not exactly a surprise, since we’re assuming that she and Mulder are fugitives on the run from the US government at this point. General assumption is they have taken up residence somewhere in Canada. No info on Mulder’s status.
• BTW, how effing cool is it that they’re shooting the movie back in good ol’ Vancouver?! Effing SWEET!
• The film MAY have undertones along those that we saw in season four, and includes quite a bit of blood & guts. As one poster on the XFNews forums pointed out, we can only hope these undertones run along the lines of the goriness we saw in “Home” and “Leonard Betts” rather than those we saw in “Memento Mori” and the cancer-arc. *crosses fingers*
• According to one extra’s experience, there has been some filming done at an old hospital in Vancouver. My assumption is that this is the hospital where Scully works. And it sounds effing creepy and I must go there.

My observations/insights so far:

• I still can’t shake the apprehension I have about this movie being filmed as a MOTW.  The series finale left way too many questions unanswered and the story way too open-ended to try to nonchalantly explain everything away through seemingly mundane conversations (a la Fight the Future) and/or flashbacks. But, I was always kind of partial to the Mythology in the day, so maybe it’s just me.
• I’m not liking the long hair on Scully, and I’m seriously disturbed at how much it bothers me, because it makes me feel very immature and it’s obviously NOT the most important thing going on in this film.
• It will be interesting to see how Carter handles the fact that, for all we know, Mulder and Scully (and Skinner, who is also back, WHOO HOO!) are essentially criminals wanted by the very institution that appears to be asking for their assistance in this film.
• Amanda Peet? Srsly?

More to come. Trust no one, and all that.

Damn Sexy

Oooh, yeah. Finding myself snowed in for the day, I be lounging around showerless in my favorite four-sizes-too-big floppy t-shirt and purple socks up to my knees. Hawt. Even *I* want me right now.

Six Word Memoirs

Stumbled across this site tonight and thought about it for a minute. Could I write my life’s story in six words? I didn’t want to register on the site, so I’m posting my attempts here. If you’re up for the challenge, I’m very interested to read your attempts as well. Of course, every time I call for audience participation on this blog, no one ever jumps in. Oh well.

“It’s always something. Better than nothing.”

“The parking garage makes me smile.”

“My ass belongs in the Bluegrass.” (Admittedly, not mine, but still applicable.)

“Nothing extraordinary, but always something extra.”

“My best investment was my tattoo.”

“Still looking. Not sure what for.”

That’s all for tonight, kids. I’m off to watch the heap of snow atop my car climb higher and higher.

I can has your soul?

Thanks to Pejo for this unbearably adorable photo of my wittle fwuffy baby!!

Wittle fwuffy Fancy goes to the salon on Monday for her semi-annual haircut and spa day. She’s not nearly as excited about that as I am.

Lesil’s Unintentionally Hilarious Quote of the Week

Setting: Fourth Street Live Food Court, lunch hour

Topic: HR people who leave HR to go into the business, but come back within six months

Fellow HR associate: “Like Associate X. Who didn’t see that one coming?”

Me: “Yeah, stick with what you’re good at. If you’re good at sucking balls, maybe you just focus on sucking balls.”

Fellow HR associate: “Wow.”

X-Files 2 Teaser Trailer Leaked!

Some sly fan snuck a video of the teaser that was shown at WonderCon. Listen to the crowd go wild at the first glimpses of Mulder and Scully in seven years!

Waaay much more than you ever wanted to know about me

Let’s start with love…

• Would you rather have a fun fling or a lasting relationship? I’ve had my flings. Ready to move on.
• What was your longest relationship? Sadly, I don’t even know if one could call it a relationship, but two years. Equally sad, one of my better experiences.
• What is your favorite personality trait? Sense of humor
• What is the most romantic thing a significant other could do? Sincerely *want* to be with me. Beyond that, I’ll take a back rub.
• When you are dating someone, what is the most important thing to you? Clear/compatible expectations of the relationship
• Do you like pet names (ex: baby, sweetheart…)? I’m indifferent to them personally. They nauseate me when used by other couples.
• What is your ideal night out with a significant other? Walk in a park
• What is your ideal night in with a significant other? Without getting too specific, it involves massage oil and a previously-designated safe word
• Would you be able to tell someone you love them, even if you didn’t feel it? Absolutely not
• Do you like relationships that involve serious commitments? Well, I’d have to actually be in one to say for sure, but I think so, probably.
• If you ever got engaged, how would you want it to happen? At home, just the two of us. No big fanfare or surprises or events.
• If you were engaged, would you want a wedding as soon as possible? Not at all
• Do you like to talk about the future when in a serious relationship? Not at all. Ever.
• Do you prefer a sensitive open relationship or a strong silent type? Strong silent type who knows when to open up for the benefit of the relationship
• When in a relationship do you have to have contact with your partner on a daily basis? Maybe a daily phone call.
• Do you like public displays of affection? Sure.
• Is there anything you won’t tolerate while in a relationship? Physical abuse and disrespectful behavior towards my family and friends
• What is one thing that you value most in a relationship? Companionship
• Would you ever be able to handle a long-distance situation? Not again.
• Do you believe in moving in together before engagement or marriage? Would you buy a car without test-driving it?

What would you do if. . .