FIVE! She was wearing 5 pull ups. Just. in. case.
Normally, she wears one plain 'ol diaper.
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Jul 25, 2008
Sometimes you just need a little more protection
and your brother's shoe...
FIVE! She was wearing 5 pull ups. Just. in. case.
Normally, she wears one plain 'ol diaper.
FIVE! She was wearing 5 pull ups. Just. in. case.
Normally, she wears one plain 'ol diaper.
Jul 24, 2008
Beastly Breast Bashing (couldn't resist...)
Waiting with five other women. About to bare breasts. A club, am intimate club. You'd think there would be more camaraderie, a bit of nodding, smiling. There is none. Surprising that we read our magazines, check our email, write this.
Each woman takes their own seat, one away from the other, of course. Only when every other seat is taken do the other seats begin to fill, carefully chosen, who to sit next to, but not look at or touch. We wait to be squished, bras and shirts folded carefully on the chair, bras tucked underneath, hidden.
I want to question the women emerging. Did it hurt as much as last time? Your breast squeezed between two plates. Did you pay the five bucks for the soft pad? Did it really help? Squished with softness...
I adorn my pink paper vest, listen to the woman repeat "there's a vest on the back of the chair, did you wear any powder, lotion or deodorant today, okay please undress from the waist up and wait right here, someone will be with you in a minute." How many times a day does she repeat that?
New machines, all digital, now the old machines have been retired. I wait, listen, type. There's a mirror so we can examine our reflection in the pink vest, sharp shoulders, the new shoulder pads?
Damn, I wish I had my camera.
Patricia?
My turn.
Done now. Squished complete. Didn't hurt as much as last time. Even though I didn't pay the extra $5 for the soft pad. Wonder what it will feel like next year?
Off for the blood draw. Make sure all the butter isn't raising my cholesterol.
Next.
Each woman takes their own seat, one away from the other, of course. Only when every other seat is taken do the other seats begin to fill, carefully chosen, who to sit next to, but not look at or touch. We wait to be squished, bras and shirts folded carefully on the chair, bras tucked underneath, hidden.
I want to question the women emerging. Did it hurt as much as last time? Your breast squeezed between two plates. Did you pay the five bucks for the soft pad? Did it really help? Squished with softness...
I adorn my pink paper vest, listen to the woman repeat "there's a vest on the back of the chair, did you wear any powder, lotion or deodorant today, okay please undress from the waist up and wait right here, someone will be with you in a minute." How many times a day does she repeat that?
New machines, all digital, now the old machines have been retired. I wait, listen, type. There's a mirror so we can examine our reflection in the pink vest, sharp shoulders, the new shoulder pads?
Damn, I wish I had my camera.
Patricia?
My turn.
Done now. Squished complete. Didn't hurt as much as last time. Even though I didn't pay the extra $5 for the soft pad. Wonder what it will feel like next year?
Off for the blood draw. Make sure all the butter isn't raising my cholesterol.
Next.
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Jul 23, 2008
Blogher The Recap, for me
Nervous Excited Fun Tired
Anxious Inspired Overwhelmed Motivated Impressed
There were so many women, so much noise, so much to take in and absorb. Babies to look at (I even stole Her Bad Mother's son for a bit, with her permission, leaving my conference badge behind, since she didn't know me at all), people to talk to, conversations to have, lunch with Rocco DiSpirito, swag to be had, friends to make, double beds to be shared, rommates to be met, notes to be taken, parties to go to... It was endless. Down time was hard to find. I decided if I were to come again, I need my own room.
I loved my roommates and the noise and atmosphere. I had a great time. Since it was my first year, I think I mostly absorbed it, the pieces that I could. Perhaps another time I'll be able to take more that 9 pictures and really take it all in. Maybe.
And now to address the Closing Keynote.
#1 Vi? Were you there? Did you feel the tension in the room? Or was it just around our tables? And yes, actually, I am a counselor, therapist, trained and qualified. Did I really think I could make a difference? Have you heard the starfish story? The boy throwing them back to the sea...
Here is the scene as I saw it. (I've tried to find a live account, podcast or something, but have been unable) Fabulous interview of Heather Armstrong- Dooce- and Stephanie Klein - Greek Tragedy- by Elisa C. I'm not going to recount the entire interview because I can't remember all of the details, but it was well rounded, talking abut the pros and cons of living their lives and letting parts of it hang out for the internets to see.
At one point, the three women on stage were talking about negative comments, insulting words etc. Heather referred to a post she had just read that was linked to her and that referred to her as a hobbit. She laughed a bit and acknowledged that the woman who wrote the post may very well be in the room and be upset with her for bringing it up. (My words, not hers) One table away sat said blogger, Jenny - The Blogess- . She sat up straighter, tuned in to the words spoken about her, heads swiveled, to watch her reaction. She smiled broadly, pointed to herself, in a 'yeah, that's me she's talking about' kind of way. Not proud, not reveling in the moment, but aware, acknowledging. I watched. And felt the air, the energy, the tension. These two women are strangers to me, I have never met them, I don't read their work... After some processing time, Jenny stood and a microphone wrangler found her. I cannot capture her words exactly, the sentiment was clear. She proclaimed her fascination with Dooce -very famous blogger, 'A' lister, everybody reads this woman- well, except for me apparently- and reiterated some of her post where she had compared Dooce to Santa Claus and Jesus as well as a mythical hobbit. She proclaimed her love for Heather and exclaimed "I even bought your fucking book, I love you" in a nice way.
During the time when Jenny was speaking, Heather hung her head, crossed her legs and arms, and looked at her lap. Jenny finished, the conversation moved forward, no further comment from Heather.
The tension in the air was palatable. What had just happened?
In my view, through my counselor, always trying to help, eyes, I saw two women both hurting. Now, perhaps it was selfish on my part. I'll admit that. I was tense and roiled. And also very aware that this event may be interpreted in many ways, and talked about, gossiped about. I also may have been wrong. I can take that. It was my need to clear the air, or at least try. And as Red Stapler 23 put it I was being a shit disturber. Also very much me- at least if you know me well.
One more thing. A few months back (whoops, last September), I made, what I thought, was a humorous and innocuous comment on a popular blogger's site. My attempt was to point out a possibly outdated and perhaps prejudicial and racial term. My comment did not come across as such. And the next days post was a reaction to my comment. Now, intially I was all like WHOA... and then I stepped back, realized that much is lost in printed words, that which is better conveyed along with facial gestures and body language. Chris reacted to my comment with little knowledge, if any, of who I am or what I meant. Not her fault. Maybe it was the last straw of the day, the month, the week. Maybe she had enough of people commenting on her words, every nuance and adjective criticized. In the end I'm still not sure. I was not attempting to attack and I think she knows that, now- after further explanation. (As a side, I did introduce myself to Chris at Blogher as the 'flesh girl', I'm sure she thinks I'm just a big 'ol whack job).
This experience had a lot to do with why I stood and said
Probably not exactly those words, but close. Heather responded with the question of whether or not Jenny was still in the room- turns out she wasn't. I didn't know that. Heather then said she didn't want to answer with out Jenny there. Understandable. She doesn't owe me or anybody else... I, unlike others (oh, they're out there, you know they are) did not think that was an unreasonable response.
And after, after the keynote was over, I hightailed it up to Heather, introduced myself, apologized for putting her on the spot, and told her where I was coming from... two women hurting and all. She told me it was okay, and alluded to information that I was unaware of, something about the past, I believe.
Later in the evening, Emily introduced me to The Blogess, Jenny, as the woman who got up and asked Heather for a response. Jenny said that she had spoken with Heather since the keynote and that she thought things were better, okay, even.
So there it is, from my perspective to you. Whoever you all are.
Jeeezzz... all those links, whew.
Edited to add: Somehow I posted a portion of this earlier this morning, I withdrew it, but now it's finished. For real. 2:12 PM
I loved my roommates and the noise and atmosphere. I had a great time. Since it was my first year, I think I mostly absorbed it, the pieces that I could. Perhaps another time I'll be able to take more that 9 pictures and really take it all in. Maybe.
And now to address the Closing Keynote.
#1 Vi? Were you there? Did you feel the tension in the room? Or was it just around our tables? And yes, actually, I am a counselor, therapist, trained and qualified. Did I really think I could make a difference? Have you heard the starfish story? The boy throwing them back to the sea...
Here is the scene as I saw it. (I've tried to find a live account, podcast or something, but have been unable) Fabulous interview of Heather Armstrong- Dooce- and Stephanie Klein - Greek Tragedy- by Elisa C. I'm not going to recount the entire interview because I can't remember all of the details, but it was well rounded, talking abut the pros and cons of living their lives and letting parts of it hang out for the internets to see.
At one point, the three women on stage were talking about negative comments, insulting words etc. Heather referred to a post she had just read that was linked to her and that referred to her as a hobbit. She laughed a bit and acknowledged that the woman who wrote the post may very well be in the room and be upset with her for bringing it up. (My words, not hers) One table away sat said blogger, Jenny - The Blogess- . She sat up straighter, tuned in to the words spoken about her, heads swiveled, to watch her reaction. She smiled broadly, pointed to herself, in a 'yeah, that's me she's talking about' kind of way. Not proud, not reveling in the moment, but aware, acknowledging. I watched. And felt the air, the energy, the tension. These two women are strangers to me, I have never met them, I don't read their work... After some processing time, Jenny stood and a microphone wrangler found her. I cannot capture her words exactly, the sentiment was clear. She proclaimed her fascination with Dooce -very famous blogger, 'A' lister, everybody reads this woman- well, except for me apparently- and reiterated some of her post where she had compared Dooce to Santa Claus and Jesus as well as a mythical hobbit. She proclaimed her love for Heather and exclaimed "I even bought your fucking book, I love you" in a nice way.
During the time when Jenny was speaking, Heather hung her head, crossed her legs and arms, and looked at her lap. Jenny finished, the conversation moved forward, no further comment from Heather.
The tension in the air was palatable. What had just happened?
In my view, through my counselor, always trying to help, eyes, I saw two women both hurting. Now, perhaps it was selfish on my part. I'll admit that. I was tense and roiled. And also very aware that this event may be interpreted in many ways, and talked about, gossiped about. I also may have been wrong. I can take that. It was my need to clear the air, or at least try. And as Red Stapler 23 put it I was being a shit disturber. Also very much me- at least if you know me well.
One more thing. A few months back (whoops, last September), I made, what I thought, was a humorous and innocuous comment on a popular blogger's site. My attempt was to point out a possibly outdated and perhaps prejudicial and racial term. My comment did not come across as such. And the next days post was a reaction to my comment. Now, intially I was all like WHOA... and then I stepped back, realized that much is lost in printed words, that which is better conveyed along with facial gestures and body language. Chris reacted to my comment with little knowledge, if any, of who I am or what I meant. Not her fault. Maybe it was the last straw of the day, the month, the week. Maybe she had enough of people commenting on her words, every nuance and adjective criticized. In the end I'm still not sure. I was not attempting to attack and I think she knows that, now- after further explanation. (As a side, I did introduce myself to Chris at Blogher as the 'flesh girl', I'm sure she thinks I'm just a big 'ol whack job).
This experience had a lot to do with why I stood and said
'I'm nervous about saying this out loud and I am doing so because I know words can get misinterpreted when they are written not spoken... I was curious about your response, Heather, to Jenny's feedback for you '.
Probably not exactly those words, but close. Heather responded with the question of whether or not Jenny was still in the room- turns out she wasn't. I didn't know that. Heather then said she didn't want to answer with out Jenny there. Understandable. She doesn't owe me or anybody else... I, unlike others (oh, they're out there, you know they are) did not think that was an unreasonable response.
And after, after the keynote was over, I hightailed it up to Heather, introduced myself, apologized for putting her on the spot, and told her where I was coming from... two women hurting and all. She told me it was okay, and alluded to information that I was unaware of, something about the past, I believe.
Later in the evening, Emily introduced me to The Blogess, Jenny, as the woman who got up and asked Heather for a response. Jenny said that she had spoken with Heather since the keynote and that she thought things were better, okay, even.
So there it is, from my perspective to you. Whoever you all are.
Jeeezzz... all those links, whew.
Edited to add: Somehow I posted a portion of this earlier this morning, I withdrew it, but now it's finished. For real. 2:12 PM
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Jul 21, 2008
The Morning After
So many women got manicures and pedicures before attending the Blogher conference. Not me.
How many women had a pedicure the morning after??? Hmmmmm... ??? Also accompanied by a homeade banner reading "Welcome Home Mama", and breakfast in bed (toast and a glass of water)??
I'll try and sum up the Blogher conference experience tomorrow. Tonight , I'm so tired I can barely form a thought. I sat around in my pj's all. day. long.
Take a look at these babies, why don't ya??
How many women had a pedicure the morning after??? Hmmmmm... ??? Also accompanied by a homeade banner reading "Welcome Home Mama", and breakfast in bed (toast and a glass of water)??
I'll try and sum up the Blogher conference experience tomorrow. Tonight , I'm so tired I can barely form a thought. I sat around in my pj's all. day. long.
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Jul 18, 2008
Blogher #2
In bed at 2- up at 7:30. Managed to ward off an impending panic attack with the help of pharmaceuticals...not sure if it was an attack or just exhaustion. All was well.
Watching, watching interactions, laughing, people, women, talking, gleaning. Should I protect my children's privacy? Is it okay to blog about racial issues, being a white woman? Is mommy blogging radical? These questions and more discussed today.
These women spoke tonight for the keynote speech. Individual women selected and then chose a past post to read aloud. Funny, touching, powerful words.
A few read deeply courageous writings of hurts, depression, body image, suicide attempts- not that the others were not courageous, but these few that I am referring too made me pause and hold my breath. So amazing.
Tonight party at Ruby Skyes- old theatre, beautiful in the inside. Loud, pulsating music, good food, free drinks. More chatting (yelling). So many women, a handful of men.
I crave the quiet, the dark.
Until tomorrow.
Watching, watching interactions, laughing, people, women, talking, gleaning. Should I protect my children's privacy? Is it okay to blog about racial issues, being a white woman? Is mommy blogging radical? These questions and more discussed today.
These women spoke tonight for the keynote speech. Individual women selected and then chose a past post to read aloud. Funny, touching, powerful words.
A few read deeply courageous writings of hurts, depression, body image, suicide attempts- not that the others were not courageous, but these few that I am referring too made me pause and hold my breath. So amazing.
Tonight party at Ruby Skyes- old theatre, beautiful in the inside. Loud, pulsating music, good food, free drinks. More chatting (yelling). So many women, a handful of men.
I crave the quiet, the dark.
Until tomorrow.
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Blogher #1
B.A.R.T.
Rubios for a quick taco and a beer quivering a bit calm the nerves , please...
Luggage spilling-only three bags -just not used to the hustle and bustle. The City. Writing helps - all the concentration shifts to the thumbs, thumbing the ipod touch.
In walks, dark longish hair, nicely dressed, wheeling a pink suitcase- looks out of place- we exchange a smile. She sits, eats her salad, Fiesta salad, red glasses, green tunic- emerald green, brown pants, black shoes, purse atop your bag. Fellow Blogher? I think, maybe.. Will see if I see you later..
9:15 PM I think I saw you in the lobby, passed right by . That was her, but was it?
10:45 PM In the hall, around the corner from the noise. The din of the collection of writers.
In the hall is right where I want to be.
A baby a woman fellow blogher, taking the babe for a walk Mommy Needs Coffee giving birthmom -Mothergoosemouse- I think, or maybe Her Bad Mother- a break. To hold that baby Ohh, I want to hold that baby- can't get away from them.
Anti- social maybe, but good very good place to be.
Like being a fly on the wall hidden a bit behind and between some columns.
To Be Continued
Rubios for a quick taco and a beer quivering a bit calm the nerves , please...
Luggage spilling-only three bags -just not used to the hustle and bustle. The City. Writing helps - all the concentration shifts to the thumbs, thumbing the ipod touch.
In walks, dark longish hair, nicely dressed, wheeling a pink suitcase- looks out of place- we exchange a smile. She sits, eats her salad, Fiesta salad, red glasses, green tunic- emerald green, brown pants, black shoes, purse atop your bag. Fellow Blogher? I think, maybe.. Will see if I see you later..
9:15 PM I think I saw you in the lobby, passed right by . That was her, but was it?
10:45 PM In the hall, around the corner from the noise. The din of the collection of writers.
In the hall is right where I want to be.
A baby a woman fellow blogher, taking the babe for a walk Mommy Needs Coffee giving birthmom -Mothergoosemouse- I think, or maybe Her Bad Mother- a break. To hold that baby Ohh, I want to hold that baby- can't get away from them.
Anti- social maybe, but good very good place to be.
Like being a fly on the wall hidden a bit behind and between some columns.
To Be Continued
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Jul 16, 2008
Sharing
I think it's a result of being the youngest of five children.
I rarely had anything that was mine. Many of my clothes were hand-me-downs. Toys were shared. I can clearly picture myself at the dinner table, arms wrapped around my plate protecting my food. My oldest brother wouldn't so much steal my food, as just screw around with it. My seat in the station wagon was often in between the oldest two boys in order to diminish their fighting- instead they fought over and around me.
Having my own space was rare. Although, as a sophomore in high school I became an only child and that was very strange to have my own space, but that is another story.
I discovered blogs and started my own around two years ago. Blogs and blogging became my thing. The computer became my amigo.
It turns out that Leo also enjoys the computer, and every chance he can get he will ask to use mine. He creates these fabulous spoofs, using Garage Band, editing, adding, generating these amazing pieces of art- amongst other things. Problem is, I don't want to share.
I want this computer to be MY computer. I want to play at my leisure, leave a million tabs open and flood my desktop if I want ,and not have anyone disturb it. Kind of like when I lived by myself in college and used the same utensils, plates, and pots over and over again, using them, cleaning them, and returning them to the dish drainer. No one ever came in and made a mess of the kitchen, turned on the radio, or left their crap all over the couch. The house and it's contents were mine all mine- for a short time anyway. (Inevitably my roommates would return from their summer break and invade my space).
I want to whimper when he asks to use it and sometimes I do. It has gotten so bad that even if I am not planning on using the computer in the near future, I still want to say no- just so it's there, if I change my mind.
I'm at the point where I am ready to by a new computer (the current one is very outdated) for the household, so he can fool around on that, leaving mine alone. Selfish, but true.
Tomorrow- Blogher! And, hey, I get to meet my roommate in real life!
I rarely had anything that was mine. Many of my clothes were hand-me-downs. Toys were shared. I can clearly picture myself at the dinner table, arms wrapped around my plate protecting my food. My oldest brother wouldn't so much steal my food, as just screw around with it. My seat in the station wagon was often in between the oldest two boys in order to diminish their fighting- instead they fought over and around me.
Having my own space was rare. Although, as a sophomore in high school I became an only child and that was very strange to have my own space, but that is another story.
I discovered blogs and started my own around two years ago. Blogs and blogging became my thing. The computer became my amigo.
It turns out that Leo also enjoys the computer, and every chance he can get he will ask to use mine. He creates these fabulous spoofs, using Garage Band, editing, adding, generating these amazing pieces of art- amongst other things. Problem is, I don't want to share.
I want this computer to be MY computer. I want to play at my leisure, leave a million tabs open and flood my desktop if I want ,and not have anyone disturb it. Kind of like when I lived by myself in college and used the same utensils, plates, and pots over and over again, using them, cleaning them, and returning them to the dish drainer. No one ever came in and made a mess of the kitchen, turned on the radio, or left their crap all over the couch. The house and it's contents were mine all mine- for a short time anyway. (Inevitably my roommates would return from their summer break and invade my space).
I want to whimper when he asks to use it and sometimes I do. It has gotten so bad that even if I am not planning on using the computer in the near future, I still want to say no- just so it's there, if I change my mind.
I'm at the point where I am ready to by a new computer (the current one is very outdated) for the household, so he can fool around on that, leaving mine alone. Selfish, but true.
Tomorrow- Blogher! And, hey, I get to meet my roommate in real life!
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Jul 13, 2008
Checks and Balance
Blogher, holy crap, is a few days away.
New wardrobe? Check.
Manicure? Check.
Pedicure? Check.
Hair cut? Check.
New Shoes? Check.
Reality? Yeah, remove all the above checks!
I still have nail polish on my big toes left there from Pamper Mom day in kindergarten two months ago. Please... Jeans, t-shirts, Birks, Keens, my fleece jacket (It's cold in The City in July). Packed, or at least they will be.
I found this on one of the blogs Käri reads. She used to tease me for my hobby, now she has her own computer and her own lengthy list she reads daily, hmph.
I love it. Makes me want to get the book. I assume it's a book, haven't even looked it up. Guess I'll do that before I get in bed.
New wardrobe? Check.
Manicure? Check.
Pedicure? Check.
Hair cut? Check.
New Shoes? Check.
Reality? Yeah, remove all the above checks!
I still have nail polish on my big toes left there from Pamper Mom day in kindergarten two months ago. Please... Jeans, t-shirts, Birks, Keens, my fleece jacket (It's cold in The City in July). Packed, or at least they will be.
I found this on one of the blogs Käri reads. She used to tease me for my hobby, now she has her own computer and her own lengthy list she reads daily, hmph.
"Many stereotypes abound. Most of the time we do not know what others are experiencing deep inside themselves. We see them and their situations and often make unfair assumptions. Sometimes we can control or at least manage our challenges, other times, as much as we would like to, we cannot. I would hope that we would be more sensitive and understanding of one another, of those who are overweight or dealing with other challenges, whether they happen to be "controllable" or not, and whether those trials are visible or not so apparent" -Pamela H. Hansen (Running with Angels)
I love it. Makes me want to get the book. I assume it's a book, haven't even looked it up. Guess I'll do that before I get in bed.
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Jul 7, 2008
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