I write this post as my almost-17-month-old daughter continues with the going-on-ten-minute screaming session in protest of being put down for a nap. She is already well past her usual naptime, so I thought she would have been happy to finally settle down to rest, but instead, she continues to warble and trill her notes of disagreement.
I write this post as I wait for the call from Adam that my car, which has been in the shop (for the third time in as many months), is ready to be picked up. I've been without my car for the last four days, and because we live in an apartment complex with no sidewalks leading away into the rest of the world, and the main road might as well be renamed "Texas International Speedway," Bryony and I have been confined to these four walls all week. And of course, since we will have to walk to the mechanic to pick up the car, today is the first day in almost two months to have rain.
I write this post as the cat, who went to the vet twice in two weeks seems to finally be letting his latest self-inflicted wound heal, as the steroid injection that calms his autoimmune disease works its way through his poor little system. Kika, our 15 1/2-year old terrier, is slowly descending into the downhill spiral of old age toward the end. She now even has the "old dog" smell.
I write this post today thinking that perhaps I should change the name of my blog to something like www.lonely-unemployed-biologist-and-inadequate-mother.blogspot.com or perhaps www.texas-aint-my-thang-yall.blogspot.com or maybe even www.why-dont-friends-pick-up-their-stupid-phones-when-i-call-dammit.blogspot.com. Yes, I'm "a little" insecure, depressed, lonely and a smidgen sad here. And yes, this has all manifested into me getting angry when the rest of the world has lives that keep them too busy to talk to me on the phone. I miss daily adult interaction and conversation. I hate that Facebook is my immediate source of contact with the outside world. I hate seeing friends who have owed me phone calls for months are posting status updates about the latest party they went to, or about how much beer they drank with friends at the bar the night before. Don't they know I read that crap? Don't they know how lonely I am? I feel really pathetic, to the point that I've actually contemplated unsubscribing from Facebook so I don't have to be angry about other people's good times anymore...but that would be ridiculous, right?
So now, I write this post as Bryony, after screaming for over 20 minutes, finally settled down into nap-mode upon receiving a little time on the breast. She and I leave tomorrow for a couple weeks to visit family we haven't seen in nearly a year. It will be a nice respite from the loneliness of here, but as always, I will miss Adam dearly. Now that baby is sleeping, I can finally get the shower I haven't had the opportunity for all day.
And with that, I end this post.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Universal Language
I don't know for certain that Blogspot is telling me the truth about all of my international readers, but just in case you really are out there, this is for you!
Buenas dias! Muchas gracias por visitar mi blog. Yo espero que usted lo piense interesante. Por favor, deja un commento si quiera Ud. Gracias!
Guten Tag! Deutsch ist meine Lieblingssprache, aber ich spreche es nicht besonders gut. Aber, hoeffintlich, Sie werden es verstehen. Vielen Dank fur lesen mein Blog. Wenn Sie wollen, Sie konnen hinzufugen einen Komment fur mich. Danke schoen!
Zdrastvuytya! Ya gavaritya mala po ruskii, po spacibo za chitatb moy blog. Yesli Viy xochyt, poslat kommentarii. Bolshoi spacibo!
I can also say this in sign language, but...well, I can't really write that out (smile).
Buenas dias! Muchas gracias por visitar mi blog. Yo espero que usted lo piense interesante. Por favor, deja un commento si quiera Ud. Gracias!
Guten Tag! Deutsch ist meine Lieblingssprache, aber ich spreche es nicht besonders gut. Aber, hoeffintlich, Sie werden es verstehen. Vielen Dank fur lesen mein Blog. Wenn Sie wollen, Sie konnen hinzufugen einen Komment fur mich. Danke schoen!
Zdrastvuytya! Ya gavaritya mala po ruskii, po spacibo za chitatb moy blog. Yesli Viy xochyt, poslat kommentarii. Bolshoi spacibo!
I can also say this in sign language, but...well, I can't really write that out (smile).
Lauren, In Real Life
This past weekend I caught a broadcast of "Top Gun" for the 20 millionth time. I have no shame in admitting that I LOVE that movie, I love Tom Cruise in it, and I can recite much of the script by heart. Oh, and did I mention I love Tom Cruise?
What I don't love is Goose's untimely death three-quarters into the film. Whenever the flight training scene where his character dies begins, I always get a tight feeling in my chest, wishing (hoping) that somehow, this time, he won't die. But he always does.
I started to realize that as much as I think of myself as a pragmatic realist, in many ways I am very much an idealist. I watch movies again and again, hoping that certain scenes won't happen (this was particulary the case with "The Lovely Bones," even though there would be no film if the protagonist wasn't murdered). But, even outside the fantasty-world of the movie theater, I hope that certain parts of life are just a nightmare that I'll wake up from. As you might remember, several months ago an old high school friend of mine died tragically in a rock-climbing accident. Even though I haven't seen her in 15 years, her death hit me hard, and I think about her and her family all the time. I often check on her Facebook page, which her family maintains and posts to regularly. And I always think that perhaps her death is really just a bad dream...she can't really be dead...surely I'll wake up soon. But I never do.
It's not just the bad stuff in life that I hope to escape from. There are many wonderful things in life that are so incredible that I still can't believe they're real. My daughter would fit that bill. Everyday I look at her and am reminded that I never thought I'd be a parent, but now I am to this beautiful, wondrous creature. And then I wonder if the past 16 months (or maybe 26 months, if I count the pregnancy) have just been one long dream that I'll wake up from. And my heart breaks to think of waking up from the joy I have right now.
When I was in high school, I had a choir teacher who was pregnant with twins, and she continued to teach right up to her due date. She used to joke that she "could go into labor at any minute!" and I used to think how cool it would be if that were to happen. What if she went into labor and we choir students had to help her deliver her babies? The thought was so thrilling I used to imagine being the hero student profiled on the nightly news for delivering my teacher's babies. When a little voice asked me, What if something went wrong?, I realized that I never considered complications, because on television things always work out okay...I actually had the thought everything would work out okay if she gave birth here in school because that's the way the script would be written. I surprised even myself by the realization that television and movies had had a very negative influence on me, by making me think I could escape from the realities of life if it didn't turn out the way I wanted.
I visited my friend's Facebook page for the first time in weeks this afternoon. Her mother had posted an account of how her very young son had been calling for her one day, then remembered she was gone and said, "Oh, I mean, Daddy!" My heart broke for him and the entire family. Instantaneously my mind swivelled to thoughts of Bryony, growing up without me and the hurt and confusion she'd feel. It was too much to think about and I had to escape. I picked up the dog and ran outside for some fresh air, my heart heavy. I wanted my friend to be alive once more.
But she was still gone.
And outside, the sun was still shining.
And life--real life--goes on.
What I don't love is Goose's untimely death three-quarters into the film. Whenever the flight training scene where his character dies begins, I always get a tight feeling in my chest, wishing (hoping) that somehow, this time, he won't die. But he always does.
I started to realize that as much as I think of myself as a pragmatic realist, in many ways I am very much an idealist. I watch movies again and again, hoping that certain scenes won't happen (this was particulary the case with "The Lovely Bones," even though there would be no film if the protagonist wasn't murdered). But, even outside the fantasty-world of the movie theater, I hope that certain parts of life are just a nightmare that I'll wake up from. As you might remember, several months ago an old high school friend of mine died tragically in a rock-climbing accident. Even though I haven't seen her in 15 years, her death hit me hard, and I think about her and her family all the time. I often check on her Facebook page, which her family maintains and posts to regularly. And I always think that perhaps her death is really just a bad dream...she can't really be dead...surely I'll wake up soon. But I never do.
It's not just the bad stuff in life that I hope to escape from. There are many wonderful things in life that are so incredible that I still can't believe they're real. My daughter would fit that bill. Everyday I look at her and am reminded that I never thought I'd be a parent, but now I am to this beautiful, wondrous creature. And then I wonder if the past 16 months (or maybe 26 months, if I count the pregnancy) have just been one long dream that I'll wake up from. And my heart breaks to think of waking up from the joy I have right now.
When I was in high school, I had a choir teacher who was pregnant with twins, and she continued to teach right up to her due date. She used to joke that she "could go into labor at any minute!" and I used to think how cool it would be if that were to happen. What if she went into labor and we choir students had to help her deliver her babies? The thought was so thrilling I used to imagine being the hero student profiled on the nightly news for delivering my teacher's babies. When a little voice asked me, What if something went wrong?, I realized that I never considered complications, because on television things always work out okay...I actually had the thought everything would work out okay if she gave birth here in school because that's the way the script would be written. I surprised even myself by the realization that television and movies had had a very negative influence on me, by making me think I could escape from the realities of life if it didn't turn out the way I wanted.
I visited my friend's Facebook page for the first time in weeks this afternoon. Her mother had posted an account of how her very young son had been calling for her one day, then remembered she was gone and said, "Oh, I mean, Daddy!" My heart broke for him and the entire family. Instantaneously my mind swivelled to thoughts of Bryony, growing up without me and the hurt and confusion she'd feel. It was too much to think about and I had to escape. I picked up the dog and ran outside for some fresh air, my heart heavy. I wanted my friend to be alive once more.
But she was still gone.
And outside, the sun was still shining.
And life--real life--goes on.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Galveston, Auf Deutsch
Adam, Bryony and I just returned from a pretty amazing weekend. About a year ago, we were invited to the wedding of Adam's brother's best friend from college...okay, I'll give you a couple seconds to dissect and digest that one. It was a really nice gesture, considering this friend is Adam's brother's friend, and while Adam has known this guy for a long time, they are not particulary close and don't routinely keep in touch. However, the wedding was to take place in Galveston, Texas, and knowing that Adam and I would be living only 3 hours away, the friend and his intended very generously invited us to take part in the festivities.
I didn't have a lot of faith in what Galveston was going to be like. This weekend was a continuation of "The Education of Lauren on All Things Texan," because I ended up being really pleasantly surprised by what a nice coastal city it is. Walking along the beach, jumping in the waves, looking out for bull sharks (hey, I watched "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel this summmer; I know what to watch for) and watching my young daughter have the time of her life running zig zags up and down the coastline...it was all so amazing.
Other than getting to spend a long weekend at the beach and hanging out in a nice swanky beachhouse, we also got some quality time with Adam's brother Scott and his wife Christine, who just happens to be my BFF in addition to my sister-in-law. In fact, the lovefest between us was obnoxious as we recounted how happy we are to be sister-in-laws, and I complimented her on her very nice boobs. Scott just about wet his pants when Christine--thinking she had busted a seam in the back of her skirt--bent over and asked me to see check out her rear end. Ahhh, girlfriends and good times.
The other high point of the weekend was that the bride is German, and so a large contingent of her family and friends made the trip from Germany for the occasion. You may or may not know that I speak German to some degree and am always anxious to test out my speaking abilities. My first victim was the bride's elderly uncle, who was sitting quietly with his wife not far from me after the wedding. We got to chatting and before long, I was filling him in on my time spent in Germany in 1997 and how my father was stationed there with the army and my brother was born there, blah blah blah. He very sweetly corrected my grammatical and vocabulary mistakes along the way, but paid me the great compliment that my German was good enough that any native speaker would understand what I was saying. I was on a high the rest of the afternoon. The last night, the wedding party and guests had cleared out, leaving only Scott, Christine, Adam, Bryony and me to hang out at the beach house. Oh, and the bride's best friend from Germany! I was a bit shy trying to test out my language skills with someone my own age, but soon enough, she asked me which foreign language I spoke and I couldn't say "German!" fast enough. So she encouraged me to speak and speak, I did! It was exhiliarating, remembering sentence structures, vocabulary and expressions on the fly. She smiled approvingly and told me that my pronunciation--which I've always been very self-conscious of, the damned umlauts!--was right-on. I could hardly believe it. I didn't want the night to end. I was on a roll.
But all good things must come to an end, and now we're back home and the work week has commenced once more.
Schade.
I didn't have a lot of faith in what Galveston was going to be like. This weekend was a continuation of "The Education of Lauren on All Things Texan," because I ended up being really pleasantly surprised by what a nice coastal city it is. Walking along the beach, jumping in the waves, looking out for bull sharks (hey, I watched "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel this summmer; I know what to watch for) and watching my young daughter have the time of her life running zig zags up and down the coastline...it was all so amazing.
Other than getting to spend a long weekend at the beach and hanging out in a nice swanky beachhouse, we also got some quality time with Adam's brother Scott and his wife Christine, who just happens to be my BFF in addition to my sister-in-law. In fact, the lovefest between us was obnoxious as we recounted how happy we are to be sister-in-laws, and I complimented her on her very nice boobs. Scott just about wet his pants when Christine--thinking she had busted a seam in the back of her skirt--bent over and asked me to see check out her rear end. Ahhh, girlfriends and good times.
The other high point of the weekend was that the bride is German, and so a large contingent of her family and friends made the trip from Germany for the occasion. You may or may not know that I speak German to some degree and am always anxious to test out my speaking abilities. My first victim was the bride's elderly uncle, who was sitting quietly with his wife not far from me after the wedding. We got to chatting and before long, I was filling him in on my time spent in Germany in 1997 and how my father was stationed there with the army and my brother was born there, blah blah blah. He very sweetly corrected my grammatical and vocabulary mistakes along the way, but paid me the great compliment that my German was good enough that any native speaker would understand what I was saying. I was on a high the rest of the afternoon. The last night, the wedding party and guests had cleared out, leaving only Scott, Christine, Adam, Bryony and me to hang out at the beach house. Oh, and the bride's best friend from Germany! I was a bit shy trying to test out my language skills with someone my own age, but soon enough, she asked me which foreign language I spoke and I couldn't say "German!" fast enough. So she encouraged me to speak and speak, I did! It was exhiliarating, remembering sentence structures, vocabulary and expressions on the fly. She smiled approvingly and told me that my pronunciation--which I've always been very self-conscious of, the damned umlauts!--was right-on. I could hardly believe it. I didn't want the night to end. I was on a roll.
But all good things must come to an end, and now we're back home and the work week has commenced once more.
Schade.
Friday, October 1, 2010
This Is What I Should Have Had
GoGirl
Ok, so what’s a GoGirl?
Simply put, GoGirl is the way to stand up to crowded, disgusting, distant or non-existent bathrooms. It’s a female urination device (sometimes called a FUD) that allows you to urinate while standing up. It’s neat. It’s discreet. It’s hygienic.
GoGirl is easy to use. Just lower your panties, and put GoGirl against your body, forming a seal. Aim and, well, pee. Pretty simple, huh?
GoGirl fits easily in your purse, pocket, or glove compartment. It’s a must for travel and sports. And it’s great for everyday––no more crouching over or trying to cover up an unsanitary public toilet.
While the concept may be new to you, European women have used female urination devices for years. GoGirl’s not the first device of its kind. But try it. And we think you’ll agree it’s easily the best.
Only GoGirl is made with flexible, medical grade silicone. Dispose of it after use. Or clean and reuse as you like. (Urine is sterile, but the product can come into contact with contaminates during use, so take precautions when cleaning.) Our patented splash guard eliminates messing and spilling. Once you practice a time or two, using a GoGirl is going to feel like second nature. You won’t be like a man. You’ll just pee like one.
Check out the GoGirl Tour!!
Ok, so what’s a GoGirl?
Simply put, GoGirl is the way to stand up to crowded, disgusting, distant or non-existent bathrooms. It’s a female urination device (sometimes called a FUD) that allows you to urinate while standing up. It’s neat. It’s discreet. It’s hygienic.
GoGirl is easy to use. Just lower your panties, and put GoGirl against your body, forming a seal. Aim and, well, pee. Pretty simple, huh?
GoGirl fits easily in your purse, pocket, or glove compartment. It’s a must for travel and sports. And it’s great for everyday––no more crouching over or trying to cover up an unsanitary public toilet.
While the concept may be new to you, European women have used female urination devices for years. GoGirl’s not the first device of its kind. But try it. And we think you’ll agree it’s easily the best.
Only GoGirl is made with flexible, medical grade silicone. Dispose of it after use. Or clean and reuse as you like. (Urine is sterile, but the product can come into contact with contaminates during use, so take precautions when cleaning.) Our patented splash guard eliminates messing and spilling. Once you practice a time or two, using a GoGirl is going to feel like second nature. You won’t be like a man. You’ll just pee like one.
Check out the GoGirl Tour!!
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