Can I get my fucking period already?

office periodLook!  Even Lumbergh gets it!  The only thing worse than getting your period is not getting your period.  The only thing worse than not getting your period is not getting it after you’ve had intercourse and there might be a fertilized egg clinging to the uterine wall that is supposed to be being shed.

Thank god I’m experiencing the former and not the latter.  But it’s still fucking annoying to have a constant rage monster in your abdominal region and zero fucking results.  Amanda Palmer wrote a song about this once.  Ok, technically the song is about New Zealand, but it’s really not so secretly about not getting your period when you’re meant to be having your period.  Or, worse, you’re meant to be over and done with your period already and it still hasn’t fucking come.

Here, enjoy Amanda.  She’s fucking delightful.  Unlike not getting your period.

Oh, and there’s the whole thing where I’m writing a two-woman play about menstruation and suddenly I’m stricken with being late.  What the ever loving hell?

UPDATE: Yes, already.  My body was just waiting for this public post about menstruation to go up and BAM! bleeding.

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The Very Real Conversation That Occurs Between Brain and Uterus Every Month by Me, Rebecca

Brain Plushie available at IHeartGuts.com

The Very Real Conversation That Occurs Between Brain and Uterus Every Month

Most days the two organs don’t speak to one another, though they are actually very close friends. One is too busy managing the rest of the body that it just doesn’t have time to chat. The other is often too busy socializing with the various other bits that want the same things in life that she wants. She and these others agree Brain sometimes needs reminders of what’s what and, as she is the loudest of them, they have elected Uterus their spokesorgan.

Although, sometimes, I suspect Uterus is merely Vagina’s puppet.

  • Five days before menstruation

Uterus:

Heeeeeeyyy!!!! Brain! Guess what’s coming!

Brain:

I’m in the middle of something important, Uterus. I’m going to have to get back to you.

  • Four days before menstruation

Uterus:

Heeeeeeeyyy!!! Brain! Guess what’s coming!

Brain:

Uterus, I’m still busy.

  • Three days before menstruation

Uterus:

Brain! Guess what! Guess what’s almost here!

Brain:

Dude! Back off. I’ve got work to do.

  • Two days before menstruation

Uterus:

pssst! Brain! Brain! Brain!

Brain:

What?

Uterus:

Guess what? Guess what? Guess what?

Brain, sighs:

What, Uterus?

Uterus:

Guess what’s coming!

Brain:

Gawd, you’re annoying.

Uterus:

heheheheheeeeee

Brain:

I hate you.

  • One day before menstruation

Uterus:

(poke, poke, poke, poke, poke)

Brain:

Stop Poking Me!

Uterus:

(poke, poke, poke)

Brain:

Uterus! You little fuck! Stop poking me! I fucking know what’s coming!

Uterus:

Yeah, but, Brain, wouldn’t it be awesome if this didn’t have to happen every month?

Brain:

You have no idea.

Uterus:

Hey, I have to go through this too.

Brain:

Oh, yeah, sorry.

Uterus:

No problem.

.

.

.

.

But, imagine, how awesome would it be if we didn’t have to do this every month!

Brain:

Yeah, that’s be pretty great.

Uterus:

No lower back pain, no cramps, less grumpiness….

Brain:

Yeah, that’s be pretty sweet. But those meds that fuck with your hormones scare me.

Uterus:

Oh, no, yeah, fuck those.

Brain:

If only there were another way to make menstruation stop.

Other than menopause. We’re way too young for that.

Uterus:

For sure. We should take our minds off of this thing that’s coming. I think it’s giving you too much anxiety.

Brain:

It always does. But what can I do about it?

Uterus:

Wellllllll…… I can think of some things we could do about it.

Brain:

Like what?

Uterus:

Mmmmmmm, let me just move some blood around down here. See if that helps.

Brain:

Ummm???

Uterus:

Yeah, that’s right. Feel that? Doesn’t it feel gooooood?

Brain:

Mmmm…. Yeah… obviously. I guess.

Uterus:

Yeah, it does! I’m going to move more blood around down here.

Brain:

Dude, seriously? Come on. I mean, thanks and all, but I’ve got other things to do right now.

Uterus:

This is more fun.

Brain:

You are not wrong, but wouldn’t this be more fun with another person involved.

Uterus:

Hands down! Best idea you’ve had all day, Brain!

Go find someone else who can rearrange their blood flow.

Brain:

Uterus! You know it’s not that easy!

Uterus:

Bollocks! We’re young, all the people we know are young, they shouldn’t have any trouble getting it up!

Brain:

That’s not what I’m talking about!

Uterus:

You can find someone, I’m sure. You’re clever.

Brain:

Thanks, but that’s also not what I mean. I can’t just “go find someone” to have sex with!

Uterus:

Not with that jive-ass attitude, you can’t!

Brain:

You mean “realistic”?

Uterus:

I mean “stupid”! Let me move more blood around down here; it’ll help you relax.

How’s that? Now you can do it. Go find someone. Go ahead. Someone long and stiff!

Brain:

You’ve got to stop doing this, man.

Uterus:

Go ahead, you can do this. I believe in you!

Brain:

No. I can’t. Because it doesn’t work that way.

Uterus:

Fine, whatever… pussy.

.

.

.

Ok, fine, if you can’t do that, then let’s do the other thing.

Brain:

Ok, yeah, sure. I can do the other thing.

Uterus:

Won’t be the solution to our problem, but at least it’ll be something.

Brain:

Ok, let’s do this.

Uterus:

Mmmm, yeah, baby!

OH YEAH!

YEAH!

YEA–AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

  • Day one of menstruation

Brain:

OH MY GAWD, THIS IS THE WORST THING IN EXISTENCE! WHO CAME UP WITH THIS CRAPPY METHOD OF TAKING CARE OF THINGS!

Uterus:

Um, muthafucka, I told you it was coming!

Brain:

YOU ARE THE WORLD’S BIGGEST BRAT! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!

Uterus:

Look, this isn’t my fault. This happens every month. It’s been like seventeen years. You knew this was coming.

Brain:

THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT ISN’T COMPLETELY AWFUL!

Uterus:

Yeah, true: Abdomen is cramping; Lower Back is in mild discomfort, Upper Back ain’t too happy, neither. Got an ache up in your region. Yeah, this sucks, doesn’t it?

Brain:

THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING, YOU BITCH!

Uterus:

Not need to get snappy. I gave you a solution to this problem; you decided not to pursue it.

Brain:

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Uterus:

Last night. I made a suggestion, and you shot it down, as usual!

Brain:

YOU DIDN’T GIVE ME A SOLUTION! YOU JUST MADE THE NIPPLES ALL SENSITIVE AND SENT BLOOD RUSHING TOWARDS YOURSELF, YOU SELFISH CUNT!

Uterus:

Yeah, snobby-pants, so you would go out and find a dude to play with, but you wouldn’t do it.

Brain:

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Uterus:

I’m just saying this could be easily avoided if we were pregnant.

Brain:

OH MY GAWD, WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING MEAN?!

  • Day two of menstruation

Uterus:

Hey, Brain.

Brain:

I hate you.

  • Day three of menstruation

Uterus:

Hey, Brain?

Brain:

I still hate you.

  • Day four of menstruation

Uterus:

Brain?

Brain:

Yeah?

Uterus:

Are we cool?

Brain:

Yeah, we’re cool.

Uterus:

Ok, cool.

Brain:

Sorry I yelled at you so much. I know you don’t mean anything by it.

Uterus:

I’m just trying to help.

Brain:

I know. It’s who you are. I was grumpy. I shouldn’t take that out on you.

Uterus:

It’s ok. I get it. I was grumpy too.

Brain:

Still… it’s not your fault. I’m sorry.

Uterus:

Thanks. It does suck, a lot. I know. Sorry the first few days are always awful. I’m not sure what to do about that.

Brain:

I don’t think there’s anything we can do. It’s just how we’re designed.

Uterus:

Yeah, I suppose so.

It’s almost over.

Brain:

Yeah, I’m really excited about that.

Uterus:

Me too.

  • Day five of menstruation

Uterus:

What do you want to do tomorrow night?

Brain:

I don’t know. I sort of want to go out.

Uterus:

That would be so much fun!

Brain:

Whoa, maybe, Uterus. We’ll see how we’re feeling tomorrow night.

Uterus:

Come on! Let’s make a plan! It’ll be so much fun! Besides I think the rest of the body could use a night out. It’s all stiff. It needs to move! It needs to dance!

Brain:

It definitely needs to stretch. Maybe we’ll do some yoga later.

Uterus:

That will be great. But we should also go out dancing tomorrow night.

Brain:

I’ll think about it.

  • Day one post-menstruation

Uterus:

Dancing? Tonight? Yes?

Brain:

Maybe.

Uterus:

Come on, Brain! You love going out dancing!

Brain:

Oh, yeah, loud music making me hurt and cheap alcohol making me fuzzy, what’s not to love?

Uterus:

Cut the sarcasm! We’re going dancing!

Brain:

Maybe.

Uterus:

There’ll be lots of stimulation for you! You’ll get to see all sorts of interesting things; there’ll be people there you can make fun of! I know how much you like doing that!

Brain:

I do like that…

Uterus:

And there might be some pretty people we can stare at.

Brain:

True…

Uterus:

Think about it. Ok?

Brain:

Ok.

  • Day two post-menstruation

Uterus:

Last night was fun.

Brain:

Sure was!

Uterus:

We should go back in a few days… or tomorrow… or tonight.

Brain:

Tonight might be too soon.

Uterus:

We could go somewhere else. Like that place that one dude said was good.

Brain:

That place is trashy.

Uterus:

Yeah, but that dude might be there.

Brain:

He was cute…

Uterus:

Yep.

Brain:

But a little skeevy.

Uterus:

But hawt.

Brain:

You only think about one thing.

Uterus:

Usually.

We’re going, right?

Brain:

Unlikely.

Uterus:

We can go somewhere classier.

Brain:

I’ll think about it.

Uterus:

You should. Because we should go out tonight.

  • Day five post-menstruation

Uterus:

Hey! Hey, Brain!

Brain:

Yes?

Uterus:

We haven’t gone out in a couple of nights. Want to go out tonight?

Brain:

I don’t know. Body is a little tired.

Uterus:

Body will rally! Let’s go out!

Brain:

I don’t think that’s the best idea.

Uterus:

What? Come on! It’s the weekend!

Brain:

It’s Tuesday!

Uterus:

That doesn’t matter!

Brain:

Yes, it does! We’re not in college anymore.

Uterus:

That’s why we should go out tonight. We are a grown woman! We can do whatever we want!

I’ll show you!

Brain:

Stop rearranging blood down there!

Uterus:

You need this.

Brain:

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon!

Uterus:

Yeah! Ain’t no time like the present!

Brain:

Uterus! You’ve got to behave yourself.

Uterus:

I’m bored! You never let me take control!

Brain:

That’s because you make poor decisions when I put you in charge!

Uterus:

I won’t do it this time! Promise! Let’s go out!

Brain:

No.

Uterus:

Relax, Brain. Feel the blood flow down here. Come on, enjoy yourself.

Brain:

Uterus! Stop it! I’m busy!

Uterus:

But it feels good, right? Just let it feel good.

Brain:

Why do I even talk to you?

Mmmmm…

Uterus:

That’s right. Just relax.

Brain:

No! Stop that!

Uterus:

Just a little more.

Brain:
You are actually the worst.

Uterus:

Let’s go find a dude.

Brain:

NO!

  • Seven days post-menstruation

Brain:

Uterus. Stop it.

Uterus:

I wasn’t doing anything!

Brain:

You know what you were doing. Stop it. Now.

Uterus:

Is this not the appropriate time for this? It’s after work, we’re free from responsibilities, we’re out… mingling…

Brain:

Not gonna happen.

Uterus:

But, it could

Brain:

No, I’m sure it could not.

Uterus:

We really can’t rule anything out, now, can we? The night is young and that one smells good.

Brain:

Stop being creepy.

Uterus:

That one over there smells good, too. And he’s cuter.

Go talk to that one.

Brain:

No. Stop it.

Uterus:

Come on! I can sense him.

Brain:

No, Uterus, that’s not why we’re out.

Uterus:

What? We’re out for a quiet drink?

We’re drinking vodka! That means this is a fun night! Let’s get us some fuuuuuuuuunnn!

Brain:

It’s just one drink with some friends.

Uterus:

Yeah, some friends who wouldn’t stop you from flirting with that hottie!

Brain:

The one that smells good?

Uterus:

The one with the hair. Damn, yeah; that’s nice. Take a second look.

Brain:

Gawd, he’s hot.

Uterus:

YEAH!! LET’S GO MAKE SOME BABIES!!!!!

Brain:

OH MY GAWD, UTERUS, SHUT IT! WE DON’T WANT BABIES!

Uterus:

No, YOU don’t want babies. I want babies! Let’s get some babies inside me! STAT!

Brain:

Do you even know what “STAT” means?

Uterus:

Like I care! LET’S GET THAT DUDE AND DO IT!

Brain:

Seriously, man? What the ever lovin’ hell?

Uterus:

Babies.

Brain:

Stop saying that.

Uterus:

Let’s make some babies.

Brain:

You are seriously creepy.

Uterus:

Come on! I want to do things that might result in babies.

Brain:

Calm the fuck down, dude. Babies might happen one day, but they’re certainly not happening now.

Uterus:

BABIES.

Brain:

Settle down! Not now. We are in no rush.

Uterus:

No rush? Wait! Did you say NO RUSH?

Brain:

Yes.

No. Rush.

Uterus:

Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?

Pfft, “no rush“.

Brain:

What? We are not in any rush!

.

.

.

are we?

Uterus:

OF COURSE WE ARE!

We are in the very middle of our child-bearing years, man! We are in the rushiest of rushes! It all goes downhill from here! We are beginning to lose our eggs even faster than we already were! It is going to become increasingly more difficult for us to conceive! We might have to take (shudder) fertility drugs if we wait much longer. Or, worse, freeze some of those little buggers. They’re only babies, they can’t handle all that cold! Don’t make them leave their warm, loving home, for that cold, indifferent freezer before they are granted the opportunity for true life!

Brain:

Dude, you are seriously dramatic tonight.

Uterus:

OF COURSE I’M DRAMATIC YOU WON’T LET ME DO WHAT I WANT!

It’s been so long. I just want a stiff penis to come over for dessert!

Brain:

Look, I know it’s been a while…

Uterus:

It’s been forever!

Brain:

Not exactly, but I promise it’ll happen again sometime.

Just probably not tonight.

Uterus:

I FUCKING HATE YOU.

Brain:

Of course you do.

Uterus:

When we don’t have anyone to take care of us when we’re old and senile it’s going to be your fault.

Brain:

Wow. Uncalled for, dude.

Uterus:

Whatever.

Brain:

Wouldn’t you rather we did it with someone who actually likes us, rather than some rando dude we pick up in this place? A man who respects and admires us for who we are, rather than what we are endowed with? Wouldn’t you prefer it if he cared about our well-being more than he cares about our width and volume? Wouldn’t that be so much nicer? Why don’t we just wait for one who feels this way about us? It’ll make the entire activity more fun, don’t you think?

Uterus:

I don’t care about any of that shit: I WANT ONE AND I WANT ONE NOW!

Brain:

Hey! Veruca Salt! Calm your ovaries! It’s not happening tonight!

Uterus:

BABIES!

Brain:

We really don’t need to concern ourselves with babies, man. You’ve got to believe me!

Uterus:

IT IS OUR JOB TO CREATE NEW LIFE!

BABIES, NOW!

Brain:

Ok, Uterus, there are seven billion people on the planet right now. It’s actually OK if we don’t make any. The species will continue without our contribution.

Uterus:

Babies.

Brain:

Not. Fucking. Happening.

Uterus:

Bay-Bees.

Brain:

I’m not talking to Hair Guy with the nice cologne.

Not doing it.

Can’t make me.

Uterus:

Ok, ok, so you won’t talk to Hair Guy, what about him?

Brain:

Who?

Uterus:

To our immediate left.

Brain:

Him? No. Not at all.

Uterus:

Why not?

Brain:

Because he’s a friend!

Uterus:

Right! He already loves us and he’s probably bomb in the sack. Best of both worlds!

Kiss him!

Kiss him now!

Brain:

Dude, ew, NO. He’s like our brother.

Uterus:

Babies!

Brain:

No, Uterus, no. We don’t want him. More importantly, he doesn’t want us!

Uterus:

Babies!

Brain:

Get a grip, Uterus.

Uterus:

BABIES!

Brain:

Gawd, I hate it when you get like this.

Uterus:

BABIES! BABIES! BABIES!

Uterus and Brain do not speak for the next ten days.

Not until…

  • Five days before menstruation

Uterus:

Hey! Brain! Hey, Brain, guess what?!

Uterus Plushie available aslo at IHeartGuts.com

Kids are Weird.

Especially when they only see adults in one context and they make all sorts of assumptions about them.  This week my students asked me the following questions:

+ Have you ever worn a dress?

+ Do you have a boyfriend? (Standard question; I was actually asked this twice this week by very different children.)

+ Do you like boys?

+ Who do you have a crush on?

+ What do you think is an inappropriate age to have a baby?

+ Wouldn’t she [a 13 year old mother] die because she’s too young to have a baby?

I can be such a miserable cow sometimes.

Recently one of my very best friends got himself a new girlfriend.  (I am in no way bitter or angry or upset that he has a new lady in his life, believe me.)  But finding that out rubbed me the wrong way.  Then, a few days later someone posted pictures of another pal and his girlfriend on the FB and that irked me.  (I am not at all upset or irritated by him being in a relationship either.)  There was a college-aged couple on the bus the other day and their canoodling was equally off-putting.  (I don’t even know them!)

Lately, I’ve just been a right miserable bitch.  Everything from celebrating New Years, making New Years Resolution, forcing reflective thoughts, new beginnings, being “profound’, to shiny happy couples have put my teeth on edge.  Now, this isn’t because I begrudge anyone their season of hope, but more likely because I feel as though I am not living my own life at the moment.

Lately I have been living with one of my sisters and her family.  She just last week gave birth to their second child and I have been helping out around the house.  I’m happy to do it, but it also means putting my own life on hold for a spell.  I am unemployed, living in someone else’s house, and doing things to make their lives easier.  There is almost zero personal meaning in my life and I’ve been taking it out on other people.

(Here I could get whiny; but I’ll try to spare you readers.)

I am very happy for my friends newly in relationships; I am happy for my friends recently engaged; I am overjoyed at the birth of my nephew; I am glad people have new jobs.  I am.  But I am also frustrated and irritated with my own financial situation and unemployment.  I am started to do my off-season freak out where I can’t afford to pay my bills and I haven’t found work yet.

Piling on top of that my recent decision to stop working at my seasonal job (unless I can’t find anything) and recent trouble finding myself replacement employment (which is due to the fact that I am, by nature, lazy).  So really my personal insecurities are racking up and creating all sorts of internal turmoil that I find I am incapable of expressing to others.  (I literally had to walk out of a conversation over diner tonight about income, jobs, social security, and health insurance — I was too afraid I was going to burst into tears at the table if I sat there and listened to any more.)  I don’t mean to be horrible to other people and I think I am doing an excellent job of not actually saying anything to anyone else, but I am having difficulties keeping my calm that I’m so famous for possessing.

Hopefully I find some sort of shitty employment to give me something to focus on other than my lack of life direction and inability to send anything out to publishers.

Oh, yeah, and my fucking broken computer that houses all of my writing.

Professional Aunt

Image

I have an uncle who is, I swear, a Professional Uncle.  My other grandmother (not his mother) even calls him “Uncle B”; his email address is “uncleb***@”.  He IS “Uncle”.  Sometimes I feel like I am following in his footsteps and becoming “Auntie”.  I mean, it’s not that far a step away from my usual role of “Little Sister”.  But now that I’m so close to having one foot in thirty, I should probably stop being everyone’s Sister and start being everyone’s Auntie.  I mean, I’m already likely to slip you some coffee after 6pm and feed you meat if you ask for it.

And I bake some killer cookies:

I can't believe I'm sharing my recipe.

I can’t believe I’m sharing my recipe.

As I said the other day, baking makes me happy.  Give me some butter, flour, sugar, vanilla and baking soda and I can probably whip something together.  Chocolate is a good addition as well.

We’re waiting here for my new baby nephew to grace us with his presence and some days in the past week have been longer than others.  The other day I decided to make some Chocolate Chip Cookies for my very pregnant sister, bro-law, and little nevvy (the two year old, not the fetus – although when mommy eats them so does he).

Ever since I lived in Vermont and we didn’t have any sort of mixer, I’ve had this inkling to forego electric mixers most of the time when I am baking.  Through doing so I have found a strange kinship to my foremothers who had no other choice, but to mix by hand.  In my Romanticized view of women from the Great Depression and further back in History, they all resemble my image of Antonia at the end of Willa Cather’s My Antonia: a solid, strong, buff Earth Mother, made strong from all the hand kneaded bread and home ground grains; tough women with strong arms from mixing dough with spoons in bowls and tired backs from standing over fires to cook and lifting solid farm babies.

It’s a mite ridiculous, I know, but my Romanticized vision of the women who came before helps connect me with the past.  My own grandmother (the Professional Uncle’s mom) said something to me once that I found very profound at the time.  We were talking over the phone about pie crust:

Gram: Now, are you sitting down?
Moi: Yes?
Gram: I use lard.

Ok, that’s not the profound statement, but it was awfully funny.  Her profound statement to me was essentially this:

Gram: It takes practice.  Just keep trying it.  We all had to do it.

Suddenly I was them and they were me.  They.  The women who came before me.  Just like me, they weren’t born knowing how to make the perfect pie crust or cake or cookie, they learned through trial and error.  Years of practice and perfecting has made my grandmother a world class baker and cake decorator.  Born before the Crash, my grandmother grew up the second oldest, and only girl, of five children.  She learned how to cook and bake and take care of her brothers and father.  She’s been doing this thing since the ’30s.  She raised three boys who each love them some sweets; made my parents’ wedding cake; and taught me to love Squash Pie and Date Nut Bars (note to self: get that recipe).

I am relatively young and still have time to perfect my baked goods.  The best part of that is even if I totally mess up my baked goods I have brothers and sisters, and nieces and nephews that will happily eat whatever I ruin.  But not my chocolate chip cookies: those things are Magic.

Magic

Magic

I made the cookies while the nevvy was at daycare so he couldn’t help me make them, but hopefully, what with Christmas nipping at our heels, I’ll be making more baked goods and he can help me with them (especially if that keeps him out of Mommy and Daddy’s hair while they tend to Baby Brother).

I'm telling you: magic.

I’m telling you: magic.

I can’t really say why I love baking so much.  It could be a control issue.  I have control over the entire kitchen for roughly an hour and a half (depending on what I am making) and after that time is up, I have delicious treats that other people can eat and enjoy; treats that will make them happy and make them forget about their stress and complaints and bullshit for awhile.  Because a good piece of pastry can do that.  A well cooked meal, a delicious piece of chocolate, a slice of pie, a piece of cake can make a person forget their worries while they marvel that anything can taste that good.

But no one is born knowing how to create this sort of magic: it takes time and practice (I’ve been baking chocolate chip cookies for nearly sixteen years).  I laugh when people tell me they can’t cook or bake because that statement is bullshit.  If you can read and follow directions, you can cook or bake.  It’s the easiest and best chemistry, right up there with blowing stuff up and setting it on fire.  Men and women have been cooking forever; that a modern person can’t boil water for pasta or make a cake from scratch is laughable.  If my nieces and nephews can assist me mixing together my ingredients then a full grown adult can make spaghetti and meat sauce.

Even though he didn’t get to help me make them, the kid sure has enjoyed the fruits of my labor.

That’s him saturating his cookie in a glass of milk. Kid knows his stuff.

Now, if only his mom would go into labor….

I NEVER go out.

But yesterday I actually had plans to go up to my oldest friend’s place and watch James Bond movies and drink martinis.  Then, my very pregnant sister decided she was having Real Contractions.  I’m living with them at the moment and am “on call” to do stuff for her and watch their kid while they focus on birthing the new one.  I cancelled my plans and stuck around their place and made soup for dinner (I am not a soup person unless it’s chowder or chicken noodle or pureed — ok, maybe I do like soup, just not tomato-based soups).  And our older sister came over, ready to take care of the nephew with me and have a slumber party, but then it became very obvious that she wasn’t going to be birthing the baby that night.

She still hasn’t.  And I can’t help but be amused that I could have gotten sloppy drunk on martinis last night while viewing a Bond Marathon, but instead I made minestrone and danced around in my sister’s kitchen.

Haven’t gotten any writing done either, but that’s slightly neither here nor there.  What is prevalent is that it’s fucking cold in Boston at the moment and I actually sort of miss Tucson (no one should miss Tucson… unless, like me, there’s someone there worth missing or if you, also like me, prefer hot sun to clouds and freezing rain).

Link

Oh, hay, Will and Kate are preggers.

Well, Kate is preggers.  Hopefully because of Will.  You know.  Not to be a jerk, or anything.  They seem like the Real Deal.  Poor kid, life is going to be weird.  Maybe the United Kingdomites will abolish the monarchy before you have to have your face on the pound note.

Also: Why is my WordPress Dash experiencing flurries?