“When you see someone putting on his Big Boots, you can be pretty sure that an Adventure is going to happen.” ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
J. and I have been married for three years now and according to an increasing number of people, we’re supposed to start having kids. Preferably we’re supposed to already have one and be ready to pop out another.
This casual attitude towards our personal choices, from a few close friends and relations but mostly perfect strangers, gives me more angst and headaches than I can successfully convey, but that’s another post entirely. Needless to say, it gets me riled up. These talks, whether instigated by friends, family, or total strangers, leave me feeling very misunderstood, very talked-down-to, and very angry. J.’s aware of this and luckily he and I are on the same page when it come to the timing of such things.
So you can imagine the heights reached by my left eyebrow when glancing through all the treasure to be found in Cecil Court, J. suddenly froze, pointed to a shop’s (Marchpane) displayed wares and declared, “We need that for Stormageddon’s room.”
Stormaggedon being the nickname we use when discussing our future child.*
“Did I miss a very critical conversation?” I demanded.
“Look,” he insisted excitedly.
I looked, and beheld some original, hand colored prints from the 1926 first edition of Winnie-the-Pooh.
This tale only makes sense if you understand that J. loves Winnie-the-Pooh. It was his favorite character as a child, his favorite movies, you name it. My six foot, broad shouldered, grown man, all-American husband loves Pooh. And here were original prints from £15 a piece.
We bought three.
Stormageddon may be years off yet, but he is going to have a fabulous nursery when he shows up. Courtesy of his father.
“Ahh, what a day! Up at 6:00, a 10-mile run in the sleet, and NOW a big bowl of plain oatmeal! How I love the crazy hedonism of weekends!” – Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes
I indulged this past weekend, minions. I may have overindulged, in fact!
Let’s burn plastic and worry about doing penance on Monday.
I’ve had a self-imposed shopping ban in place for months now, saving up for a major shopping trip, and I finally took it. Woof. There was carnage, kittens. And then I went to a movie and dinner with my godfamily to round off my weekend of hedonism, because between weddings and assorted craziness we haven’t been able to play as much lately and that needed to be rectified.
Now the Small Dog clan is going on austerity measures until the holidays – Germany would adore us.
J.’s back in town tonight, permanently, no more cross continental marriage! And immediately I drag him to an out of state wedding this weekend, we have another godfamily dinner at the start of next week, I head out to the Flyboy’s Wedding Part Deux in Louisiana the Saturday after, and the next day is our three year anniversary. Life events are like buses, none come for huge stretches and then they all come all at once!
“I even made him eat healthy food. Mostly.” “Bless you.” – Peregrine, C.
I was lazy all weekend, and I regret nothing. Long phone calls with some of my the girls (although Scarlett still owes me one), biking, Thai food – bliss.
In the meantime, while I was being a loungey housecat, Peregrine took a long vacation to the UK to visit some friends in Oxford and frolic in her former home of Scotland. Naturally she crashed on J.’s couch in London from and to the airport, which meant I got to Skype with two of my favorite people at the same time. My brain nearly shorted out from glee.
My only quibble is that I was not there too! This will be rectified in July.
“The name of a man is a numbing blow from which he never recovers.”
~ Marshall McLuhan
Look, we’re sorry, but your pseudo aunts and uncles took all the good stuff. Alright, Tidaporn Nebraska Agnes*, we get it, but you’re really going to have to get over it.
I have no intention of spawning soon, but several of my mates have already kicked off that great adventure. And I’m starting to get a bit anxious…because I realized that some people are protective of what they name their little darlings. Most nerve wracking, apparently some of my friends and I have similar nominal tastes – leading me to discover that I am one of those said protective types.
So either we’ve got to start having kids to get the names we like…or we’re just going to have to tick off an awful lot of people and be accused of copying them.
Parenthood seems fraught with unforeseen perils. We might just end up pulling the Roman thing and name them all the same thing with different numerals: Puer Primus, Puer Secondus, etc.
*All names that have recently crossed my desk. Parents can be cruel
“The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaiety, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it.”
~F. Scott Fitzgerald
I’m bone tired. The other night, well, you know sometimes how youtube happens? Youtube happened until 1am and I’ve been out of whack ever since. Last night, after treating myself to This American Life’s live show in movie theatres, I was off to meet Margot to work out together…when I got a text from her. She’d been in a car accident. Luckily she was fine, but I had a pretty horrible moment there.
This weekend I’ve got Trixie’s bacherlorette party with the girls from my godfamily, but first of all I’m going to the funerals for my brother-in-law’s parents and niece. Love your people extra hard this weekend, ducklings. Here are your links:
Sad though it may sound, I have not had to hunt for good reading for years – I have a battalion of unbelievably intelligent friends feeding me recommendations, links, articles, and books. Here’s a fascinating read, hat tip to Peregrine.
Not quite as fun (to a history nerd like me) as Kate Beaton, but I quite like Gemma Correll‘s puns. Like this one.
I have instituted a shopping ban that will remain in place at least until after my birthday, and probably until J.’s graduation, but that doesn’t stop me from looking. At this, for example.
Recently I had an interesting conversation with a friend who asked me, “Do you think we need feminism anymore? I mean, aren’t we past it?” Quite admirably (for me), I didn’t do a double take, I didn’t roll my eyes, I kept my eyebrows wrangled, and did not demand, “Are you serious?” I live in a fairly conservative place and work at a religious university, so I am routinely subjected to nonsensical sentences that start thus: “I’m not a feminist, but…” and usual end with some statement of equality or common sense. It was a matter of some joy, when J. said something similar in conversation once, I could retort, “I hate to break it to you, love, but you totally are.” After a pause, he laughed and said, “Yeah. You’re right.” And now, he occasionally tells me that once you have seen sexism, you start seeing it everywhere. Which is a long way of me saying that people (and in my experience, mostly ultra conservative men) can say we’re post-feminism, or that women don’t need it anymore, but I believe they’re irrevocably and world-without-end wrong. Here’s a recent example as to why.
It’s true. If you ever go to Pisa, you will see legions of tourists trying this very thing. And the next time I’m in town, I’m going to take a leaf from this gentleman‘s book.
This site is hysterical, if occasionally crude (warning, pearl clutchers). This one and this one made me snort I was laughing so hard, because living alone with Margot gone and J. back in London, I have experienced both these sensations. Mostly on account of the fact that I’d seen The Woman in Black and scary movies stick with me and make unsettling appearances in my head at 2am.
Maurice Sendak passed away this week, and I was surprised at how affected I felt. I admired so much of his work, not just Where the Wild Things Are, but the Little Bear books and the tale of Pierre, who could only say, “I don’t care.” But one of my favorite of his projects was his creative work on the Northwest Ballet Company’s brilliant motion picture adaptation of The Nutcracker. The only reason I have a VHS player is because the powers have never seen fit to turn that beautiful piece of art into a DVD. Here are some excerpts of interviews he had with NPR’s Terry Gross.
Want this. Want it so hard. Want it with all the yearning of my geeky soul.
J.’s transformation from steak and potatoes eating, jeans and ball cap wearing, all American male to Brit is almost complete. Not only does he refer to delivered/carryout food (properly) as takeaway, he drinks tea daily. Ha ha! He also passes on a recommendation for this tea if you need to fall asleep, apparently it knocks him out like Tylenol PM. Quoth J., “Tea over here is just better.”
“Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality.”
~ Emily Dickinson
Death is funny to me. Not funny ha-ha, funny strange. I don’t have a lot of experience with it, most of the deaths that I have been connected to have had the buffer of one or two degrees of separation.
As a child, the only death I remember was my grandfather’s when I was eight or nine. I felt badly, I remember crying when my mother told me, but feeling oddly detached at his funeral. The truth is I have never been extremely close to either set of grandparents or my extended family (extenuating family issues, coupled with the fact that growing up we were seldom on the same continent for more than a few days at a time). My grandmother was (understandably!) distraught, and my mother was unbearably hurt, but the distinct memory I have of that day is feeling scared that I didn’t feel sad enough and wondering if something was wrong with me.
The trouble is that as I’ve grown up, death has become more and more frequent. In this last year alone I’ve mentioned a few, but sitting back to run the tally, I’m a bit taken aback. I have been vaguely connected (second and third degrees of separation with friends and coworkers) to three suicides, three automobile accident deaths, one passing from old age, two accidental deaths, and worked on two death cases at work. It’s everywhere. And I’ve felt as oddly detached from all of them as I did to my grandfather’s.
I wonder if this is because I’ve never been touched directly by death. I have absolutely no idea how I would feel if either of my parents passed away, probably as if part of the ground had suddenly fallen away from under me. If any of my siblings died I suspect I’d feel something beyond rage and pain – they’re kids after all, they aren’t supposed to die (even though I know kids die everyday). Gio nearly drowned once and the sensation I felt was terrifying panic and corrosive guilt (I was his big sister and I hadn’t been paying attention to him when he went swimming in the deep end of the pool – I’d actually told him to leave me and my friends alone. The next time I saw him he was being pulled from the water, blue and lifeless. That horrible feeling has never left me). If J. died… frankly I’m not sure where I’d be. He teases me that he needs to die first so that I have to clean up after him and deal with the damage, I counter that he’s being a rotten selfish punk to leave me to do the emotional heavy lifting, and he comes back with, “You could handle it. I couldn’t.”
I’m sure he means this as a testament to my personal strength of will (or something), but the first time he said something like that my first thought was, “Great, even my husband thinks I’m emotionally stunted…”
The funny (not funny ha-ha) thing about death to me is that life keeps going for those you leave behind. Standing still has never seemed to be an option to me for survivors, and yet I have seen people brought to a crashing halt from personal loss and pain. I have no idea what that must feel like. I have no idea if my attitudes and detachment from death stem from genuine sangfroid or lack of personal experience, but either way I know exactly how lucky I am never to have been put in a position to find out. Most people have casualties behind them. I’m still waiting for my first massive personal loss, and just hoping I’ll be able to bear up and keep going when it does.
*Many thanks for your kind words towards my brother-in-law’s family. Many of you are able to speak from a personal and authentic place that is truly compassionate and experienced. None of us get out unscathed, and I think the only true balm is the wisdom and care of friends.
“…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.” – John Donne
I had a lovely weekend with my brother, even though it was a bit rushed as I needed to get back for our new nephew’s christening on Sunday. I’m very sorry to say, the day ended really sadly. On the way home from the post-church family party, my brother-in-law’s (the husband of J.’s sister) parents were involved in a car accident and both passed away. Two of their grandchildren were in the car with them and were very badly hurt.
I did not know them extremely well, but I saw them about every other month at extended family gatherings and they always greeted J. and I with smiles and hugs. They were kind and gentle people, with a big family which they were the center of, and beloved grandparents.
Life is stunningly fragile, darlings. I don’t know if we’re truly ignorant of it (until it hits us) or if we just choose to ignore the fact for the sake of our sanity, but there it is. None of us are immune.
Please think of your own loved ones today, and please spare a kind thought or prayer for mine.
“Pretend it’s the weekend…we could pretend it all the time.” – Jack Johnson
And I shall stay here. While I can.
I just got back in town, ducklings, after visiting Gio at his university. We were celebrating his successes, meeting the girlfriend, and generally goofing off. Which is how Fridays should be spent, offices are dreadful places on a Spring afternoon. This Sunday I’ve also got a new nephew’s christening. Family is fabulous, if a bit hectic. Come Sunday evening I shall be tired.
But as always, I’ve found some fun things for you, well beloved minions, to kick off your weekends.
I am an unabashed Whovian and Sherlock lover. The fact that J. gets to see them months before they debut in the US drove our marriage to the brink (not true, but there was a great deal of disgruntlement on my side and malicious glee on his. He’s very good at not giving up any, “Spoilers!”). Here’s a NPR interview with the evil genius behind both revitalization of older brands, Steven Moffat. Also, Sherlock resumes this Sunday on PBS, all minions are required to report for viewing duties. There will be a quiz.
Chocolate. Do you really need any more information?
Newt Gingrich is (finally…dear heavens, finally) gone. Luckily for us, he’s just as ridiculous and easy to mock now as he was campaigning. Mind you read the sidebar carefully.
My godfamily always throws fabulous parties (GS in particular is famous for her “bars” – hot chocolate bars, drinks bars, and her latest triumph, lemonade bars) and Trixie and Drill’s couples shower was no different. The presents were lovely, Trixie has excellent taste, and unfortunately now I have a strange urge to redecorate everything. Luckily poverty prevents me. Here’s a fabulous online shop specializing in housewares and unusual plants. I’m particularly loving this reclaimed wine barrel cheese tray, and want to defy nature by putting these all over the house. Weddings are dangerous, kittens!
I’m not a huge sports fan. Naturally I root for my alma mater’s teams, and I have my English and stateside football teams (which I’m not mentioning, since I don’t want to drive any of you away/to drink, football being next to religion for some of you), but other than that, meh. The only use I have for professional American Football is Superbowl parties, and much to J.’s annoyance, basketball doesn’t do anything for me. But even I could get firmly behind this story.
No plans of spawning for a few years yet, but many of my friends have cranked out bundles of joy recently, and a couple have found really nifty things for bringing up baby. Here’s a fun tool, and here’s a lovely shop for the mums out there.
The weekly sheep. I know they’re cultural or whatever… but rodeos (and frankly most of the American West) baffle me.
Speaking of mums, Mother’s Day is coming up. Does anyone have any creative ideas?
“I hate cameras. They are so much more sure than I am about everything.”
~ John Steinbeck
Husband in town = neglect of minions. Aunty C. is sorry, but she still love you all and trusts you forgive her as long as she promises to remember you in the will.
We’ve been playing hard. Lots of movies, lots of eating out (which I will atone for once he’s gone by not setting foot in a restaurant for weeks), family time, and Easter celebrations.
Unfortunately almost none of this is documented. Some people take pictures of everything (looking at you, godfamily) and they have so many fun memories locked away in photos and online. J. and I? Well, pretty sure the last time either of us actually tried to take pictures was at our wedding, almost three years ago! If anyone asked us to prove we exist, we’d have a devil of a time trying to.
The trouble is, I’ve never been a photo taker. I prefer writing things down to remember them and I am one of those women who can’t take pictures. No, really. I can hold a smile until the very second the photographer presses a button somewhere – most pictures of me feature my face mid expression change. To say that this is unattractive is a gross understatement. There is also that sneaky problem of me looking very different in my head than I seem to in pictures. In my head I am taller, more fit, and my skin is flawless.
Ah well! We’re going to try and be better about snapping pics from now on, if for nothing else than to prove to perfect strangers that our respective spouses aren’t only to be found in Facebook profile pictures.
Here, see? J.'s real, not the deluded imaginings of a Dickens-esque spinster with far too many cats.
And this is what he, understandably, is looking at. The desert selection at our favorite place to eat. Come visit us, we'll take you there. And may I recommend the Banana Cream Cheese Pie (also known as the ambrosia of the gods!).
“O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?”
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
It’s the first day of Spring and J. is here! There may have been a freak snow storm last night and it may be freezing outside (after the most mild winter in recent memory), but I’m happy as a clam! We’ve got plans to go to all our favorite places to eat, catch a few plays and shows on campus and around town, visit our new nephew (born yesterday!), and spend time with family.
More practically, I’ll have to relearn how to share a bed with another person who’s got over a foot on me, I’ve liked sleeping sprawled in the middle for the last few months. I may have also taken over his old side of the closet… Luckily he’s still too thrilled to see me to care. He’s going to spend his break studying for his finals, then return to the UK to take them, and graduate in July. We’re nearly done, kittens!
Small Dog Syndrome 
