I'm Two!

At the point when I become fully menopausal, must I change the title of my blog? Oh, my, it has just occurred to me that today is my blogiversary! For two years I have been casting my thoughts and questions and ponderings out there for anyone to read. I'm not quite famous but I do have some regular readers. Most of you are silent readers who have never commented but have let me know via other channels that you enjoyed something you read here. Thanks to La Guera and Ed who comment frequently, I like and appreciate the conversation. Writing in one way or another has been a part of my life for a long time, and I was reminded of that this afternoon. I've been cleaning out the former computer lab downstairs and am in the process of turning it into my office. The 16yo and his computer have been kicked out to another room and I am left in the midst of piles of stuff and dust bunnies. Figuring out what to keep, what is trash, what can be recycled, what belongs elsewhere. I found the original first manuscript of my novel and found it hard to believe that I printed it out nearly ten years ago. I saved my daily writing on a floppy disc! I have years and years worth of journals that I can't decide what to do with. I'll finally have all my writing efforts, including poetry and notes and character development ideas for possible future novels, all organized in one place. In a week or so, my computer will be at home in another room! I'm going through a teensy bit of separation anxiety, but I need for my bedroom to be a room for just sleeping, reading, and relaxing. Perhaps even entertaining. Well, I figure I ought to not just wait for my ship to come in, I should be prepared for when it arrives! So all the office stuff and notebooks and the cute little desk are moving to another room. Leaving just a journal and a pen on the nightstand. Now that I'm two, I think I'm ready to give the writing a room of its own.

Bellona's Belly

What makes an otherwise mostly normal woman get her navel pierced? Particularly when she's reached an age, for me it was 47, where she's beyond wearing midriff-baring tops. Why? I can only answer for myself. When I was in my twenties, I had a fabulous looking tummy. Flat. Firm. Not an ounce of flab peeped out over the waistband of my jeans. Then I had two babies, which involved gaining over 45 lbs each time, ballooning my previously 26 inch waist to over 40 inches. Both of my sons were born ceasarian, leaving me with a ridge of scar tissue at my bikini line. Even when I got back down to an acceptable, comfortable weight range my tummy never was quite the same again. And let's face it, there was no way I was motivated enough to do the ab crunches or sit-ups to regain a semblance of my earlier abdominal glory. I pouted a little. And mourned the loss of a physical attribute I didn't quite appreciate enough when I had it. Then I would look at my two handsome, bright and wonderful sons. And I'd think, what a tiny price to pay. In order to truly accept my now less-than-perfect belly, it was obvious what needed to be done. Decorate it! Poke a hole in that navel and dangle something bright and shiny on it! So I did. And today, after four and a half years of living as a belly-pierced woman, that reign came to an end. To my great surprise, the ring fell out this morning. I was at work, concentrating on putting retest stickers in numerical order, and plink!, there it was, my cute little 22k white gold ring on the counter in front of me. I self-consciously raised my shirt and peeked at my navel. Nothing dramatic, no blood or riven flesh, just a little pink area where the piercing used to be. I expect in a few days my navel will appear pretty much as it did before. I feel less exotic. Sigh.

At Least It's Not On The Floor

Isn't this lovely? It's the back of my bedroom door. If you put up hooks, stuff will appear and ask to be hung. If I can't locate a purse or an article of clothing, this is where I look. I usually don't look for the pink feather boa, I know where it is and haven't felt the need to use it since my 50th birthday party. If anyone has creative suggestions for using a pink feather boa, I'd like to hear them. I may even be willing to loan it to the right person. A fashion archaeologist might find this interesting, there are layers dating back to perhaps the Cenozoic Era. Now that's what I call retro.

Thumbs Up!

Good job, Dad!

Ladies and Gentlemen, the 44th President of the United States of America!

Does anyone else feel inspired? We watched the entire inaugural ceremony while we worked this morning. On the big tv screen that normally displays our barcode scanning and watering table temperature. I must say that it was not even close to being there, but it was warmer and more convenient. I was inspired, moved, and hopeful. The absolute best moment was daughter Sasha's thumbs up for her Dad with her little, orange gloved hand. And may I say that it is truly wonderful to have a president who can speak English in complete and correct sentences! And, yes, I voted for him. The Obama/Biden ticket did not prevail in SD but I'm still taking credit for my part in it!

Reader's Digest Redux

Summer of 1968. My mother had packed up us four kids and moved us back to North Dakota, leaving her husband and our father behind in Las Vegas. Purportedly to sell the house, tie up loose ends, take care of other business, and would soon follow us back up north. I didn't expect to see him again, I had learned to have few expectations where my family of origin was concerned. The funny thing is, it didn't feel dismal, it just felt normal. Trading the blistering heat and sand of the Nevada desert for the bitter cold of the northern plains. The five of us moved in with her parents, the duration of these living conditions unknown. My brothers occupied the basement bedroom. It was musty and smelled of moth balls. I'm not sure, but I think my mother slept on the couch in the living room. My sister and I took up residence in the upstairs bedroom. It was bright and sunny with slanted walls that echoed the roofline. I was ten going on eleven and my sister had just turned six. We had shared a bedroom in our house in Nevada but we slept in twin beds, here we were obliged to sleep in the same bed as well as the same room. I didn't mind, I felt safe and above the growing household tensions below. If we had been in twin beds, I think I might have crawled in with my sister just for the comfort of not feeling alone. We had lived in Williston twice before, when I was a baby and when I was in second grade, but to me it was just another new town, another new school where I would have to start all over again. In the fall I would begin sixth grade, but it would be my fifth elementary school in six years. To escape the current state of my life, I read. Anything and everything I could get my hands on, and the upstairs bedroom at Grandma's house was lined by years of back issues of Reader's Digest. I think in the two months we lived there I read them all, six or seven years' worth. And I don't think I picked one up since then. Until last month. My friend Sandy gave me a gift subscription, and the first issue arrived in December. The magazine looks different, brighter and thinner than the sixties version, but the cartoon on the last page looks somehow familiar. And the Word Power feature is just as much fun as I remember. I never would have thought of subscribing to Reader's Digest again, but I'm enjoying having it on my nightstand. Thanks, Sandy, for teleporting me back to an earlier self, to that sunny upstairs bedroom at Grandma's house, where I first realized that reading was fun.

Cat & Mouse

My cat, Einstein, has taken a fancy to my wireless mouse.