More Questions, With Answers! Woohoo!

Going to be doing some stuff and thingies this week, in different places and locations. Heh.
So, busy busy busy, go go go, this that and the other = I’ll be Away From Keyboard a LOT.

To keep all of You Wonderful People entertained and amused, I’ll be slinking a little away from Lazy Douchedom again this week by FINALLY answering more of the questions you asked forever ago!

Then, later, I’ll also be asking YOU some questions. So get ready, my pretties.

Previous Posts Containing Answers:
Answers to “food-based” questions
Second installment of answers

Today’s Installment:

Dawn asked: “If you could snap your fingers and change one part of your body, what would it be?”

Well, if you had asked me that as a child, my IMMEDIATE response would have been,”My ears.”  I got made fun of A LOT for my ears.

Being called “Dumbo” was not unheard of.

Bastards.

A year ago, I’d have asked for someone to zap my Muffin-op away.

But bah.  I’m pregnant now, so the Muffin-Top is just providing the rounded-out icing on top of my bulbous cake of a belly.  Yay and shi.

What I’d really like is thinner, smoother thighs.  The junk in my trunk I can handle, but I HATES DEM OLE JELLY LEGS.

******

Kat asked: “What do you want to be when you grow up (you know, figuratively speaking, who wants to grow up anyway!)”

When I was a little kid (yes, I’m going to start off that way again) I wanted to be an astronaut.  AND a ballerina.  Yes, at the same time.  And, uh, I TOTALLY could have done either or both, but I changed my mind.  So there.

Years ago, I thought I wanted to be a research psychologist and professor.  I burned out on that idea in Grad School.  Oh, Grad School, how I look back at you with much fear and loathing.

Nowadays, I’m focusing more on how I can make today and tomorrow better for my family and myself, and less on “when I’m all grown up.”  And busy learning that might be the best thing for me mentally.  And maybe partly because of my tendency to be in denial about my aging in the first place.

******

Katie Ann asked: “What made you choose a chihuahua?”

Honestly?  I HAVE NO IDEA.  I have always thought Chihuahuas are HORRIBLE little pests of dogs!  That they are annoying and really begging to be kicked across the room at any given moment.

And you know what?  I WAS RIGHT.

Heh.  Okay, the little jerk IS cute.  And sometimes he doesn’t suck.

******

Veronica asked: “When are you going to fly over and visit me?”

Tomorrow, Honey.  Better get your ass to the airport and pick me up. With chocolates in hand.

I WISH!  *muah*

******

Marylin asked: “Hmm, where and what would you do in your dream holiday?”

Anywhere I can Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleeeeep.  SleeeeeEEEP.  SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

And have wine.  Chocolate.  Cheese.

Then more sleep.

See?  I’m easy.

******

That’s it for today!  Stay tuned for more… and be ready to answer my questions, too.

I like banana wheat, with syrup.

Fat floats.

We all know this, right? Fat, a lipid, is less dense than water… so it floats.

I know this. I really do.

But I was still excited at the astonishing sight I beheld in the bathtub Sunday night.

I filled the tub higher than usual, and sunk myself all the way in, hoping that the water would wash away all the deadlines I’ve been facing lately…

Or maybe just drown me so I didn’t have to meet them?

I had my eyes closed… and when I opened them, I saw that part of my body was not submersed entirely.

Two parts, to be exact.

AND THE HEAVENS PARTED AND A GLORIOUS LIGHT SHONE UPON THE EARTH, AS THE ANGELS SANG!

What a vision to behold! It was like seeing my perky, 2005 BEWBS! I wanted to say to them… “Oh, 2005 bewbs, how I have missed you! The way you didn’t drag on the floor and bump against my ankles, it was like magic. You knew how to make a girl feel young… with your distinct ability to not have gross stretch marks and your complete lack of loud, slapping noises when I ran or jumped without a bra on.

Oh, pre-pregnant, pre-nursing 2005 BEWBS! Where have you been all this time!?”

But it was just a façade.

Please, make sure you try this yourself. But don’t be the fool that I was.

DO NOT LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND CATCH A GLIMPSE OF THE FREE-HANGING-MEAT AS YOU’RE GETTING OUT OF THE TUB.

Just hold onto the vision, the memory… the floaty, fake-perky boobies. It’s okay to pretend.

Ah. Think I’ll make pancakes for breakfast… for some reason I can’t get the thought of flapjacks out of my head.

If I iron them out, can I smooth back over time?

Today’s Photohunt theme is “Wrinkled.”

And that’s how time feels to me, suddenly. Like it’s been wrinkled. Or folded like an accordion.

Like it is filled with the skips in an old, worn record. The vinyl spins over and over and the details of the songs are faded; sometimes, even large sections of lyric are missing. I’m left with sudden, blurted words and jolting rhythms that hop from one point to the next…

Photo by Athena Carey, lifeprintsphotography.com

Will the folds between the wrinkles be deeper the older I get?

Will the skips in the record become so broad that the melody is lost almost entirely?

Have to find a way to hold on to the details… I like this song too much.

A slice of being, time-travel style.

Quick run to the store
after dark. Moon-roof open.
Windows down, driving.

Alone, I glance back.
Car-seat is empty. Not one
passenger. Alone.

The night is pulsing.
Lights fly by; I slice through them.
I lick my lips, drive.

Maybe a little
too fast? Wind licks the side of
my face, hair swirling.

Fingers tapping the
wheel. Foot tapping the floorboards.
Body keeps rhythm…

Loud music playing.
Perhaps, a little too loud?
Feeling young. Alive.

My eyes flash to the
rearview. My high school self looks
back at me, grinning.

Just for a moment.
Then she vanishes. But I
am left with her smile.

I shall have her back again.

Emotionally, I’m flighty, prone to daydream. Victim to whim, impulsive.  Gripped by a
logical mind but owned by a heart that believes in magic,
fiercely. Taken to believing in miracles. Wanting to see
past the black and white edges of things, searching for
the blur. I am between the lines, but not inside of the
box.  If you look deep enough, you will see me peeking
back at you. When the wind blows, my body is fixed, but
my dreaming soul is caught easily, and stirred in that
direction. Moved by the ethereal, I often close my eyes
and imagine I can feel things that don’t touch me, hear
things that make no sound, and taste things depending
on their color.

This is the part of me that is squelched more and more nowadays. This is the nimble of spirit little nymph caught in the net of the goblin called Everyday Life As A Mother. I find myself thinking nothing but rational thoughts all day long, being practical over and over again until the day has gone and I had no time to even appreciate its beauty. I find myself lingering on the fantastic less and less until it’s hard to remember the person who used to do so with such ease it was as second nature as breathing.

Once upon a time, I regularly dreamed of flying because I fantasized about it daily. What would it be like, with the wind in your hair and no traffic to slow you or physical law to bind your body to the earth? It would have to be the ultimate liberation to lift off from the terra by will, to fly for real, instead of being trapped against the hard surface of the earth, unable to soar without mechanization.  What the soul knows the body yearns to hold; longs to savor.

I bathed in the moonlight. I sat, wrapped in the glow, lost in my thoughts. I shared company with it – just me and Mr. Moon, white fire in the sky. Have you ever been alone under the moon, in a place where it is otherwise quiet and dark? I challenge you to isolate yourself thusly, and stare up into that great, white orb, inviting it to open itself to you. I dare you not to feel the beauty of its presence, not to sense the magic of it.

Thunder and lightening are thrilling… like musical theatre, they beg a rapt audience. How is it that any of us carry on with dull and dreary chores and errands while this is to be seen and heard? I used to celebrate such a show, no matter the time of day or night. When did sleep become more important? To be shamed.

And a rainstorm with no lightning… well that is clearly meant to be played in. Not hurried past or hidden from, not feared or hated or cause for curse. There was a time when I went outside on purpose when it was raining. My wet, dripping locks would sway and slap at my neck as I twirled, dancing in the rain. My muddy toes skipped under and past wet leaves as each saturated blade of grass tickled my soles for a second before I brushed past and onward. The smile never left my face.

I’m reflecting quite often, lately, on this person that I miss. Life happened, it crept up on her over time, and drew her away, so slowly that I didn’t even realize she was gone before she had been absent for too long.

I shall have her back.

They reflect times we may have forgotten.

Kids, that is.

I’ve been spending more and more time with my son outside lately, as the weather has improved steadily.

I love being outside in the warmth and the sunshine.  It makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else does.  In Spring, it is especially enjoyable.  I can look around and see the green of the grass and the trees, the blue of the sky; I can feel the warmth of the sun, and I can smell that sweet scent that wafts on the breeze that tells you things are growing and blooming all around.

Braden feels that joy, too.  Nothing excites him like the prospect of going outside.

Today after his nap, still groggy and clinging to my side after coming downstairs, he said to me, “go ow-sigh.”

And so we did, again.  And I watched him play and enjoy himself.  And I wondered if he would always like being outside like this.

And I thought about why I like being outside so much.

And I remembered.

Sometimes, they reflect things.

Life is good.

Butt In The Air

31 years ago today, at 2:47am, I was born in breech position.

I came into the world showing everyone my bootay.

Not much has changed since that first day.

Thanks to all of you who have been reading and replying.

You make every day my birthday when you’re willing to look at the ‘butt’ I’m always shoving in your face, and smile about it.

Reflection

Tomorrow, I turn 31.