The Pale Wisconsinite

Random thoughts from the week:

- It’s my year to catch up on old books that I ought to have read, but haven’t. I finished Nickled and Dimed this weekend (holy krap, what a read) and I’ve started in on The Handmaid’s Tale. Also on the docket this year are Ender’s Game, My Antonia, Love in the Ruins, and Another Country. My brother in law and I have started a challenge to read 20 books each this year. I suspect he will beat me. I go days without having enough time to read. Are you on Goodreads? Let’s be friends!

-Rhianna is a boring, boring singer. She’s really bad, okay? She makes me yawn. But her songwriters are fabulous. I’ve been singing we found love in a hooooooopless plaaaaace for weeks now. And now you’re singing it too.

- We have a youngest feline child who’s decided that he’s much more comfortable without his collar. We’ll put it on him and release him to play and 15 minutes later he’ll saunter up naked as a jaybird. It’s funny, until it gets aggravating. Mr. PW and I say it’s like putting a toddler to bed before your fancy cocktail party, only to find him, an hour later, cheerfully making friends in the midst of the crowd, sans pjs and diaper.

- We have two lovely friends coming to visit us this weekend, so I’ve been working to get the house in order so I’m not to embarrassed by it. I’m self-conscious because not only do they keep an immaculate house, but theirs is about four times bigger than ours. In my saner moments, I realize they’re the last people in the world who care about such things, but it’s a hard feeling to shake.

- in August we’re going to Seattle to attend our best man’s wedding. His fiancee is a Russian girl who only speaks okay English (he’s Russian too, no mail-order bride shizz here). All I can think is how much I want her to be welcomed and how I’m the only one of the four of us that doesn’t speak a lick of Russian! I’m going to be so left out of any conversations.

- I’m waiting for an exciting package from Amazon, and I can’t wait to show you what it is. It’s something I’ve been hoping for for a long time!

Do you have anything random you want to tell me about?

 

 

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This made the rounds a few months ago, but I keep coming back to it because it absolutely takes my breath away. Nature is beautiful and terrible and frightening and amazing.



Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.


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So, I know it’s January, and everyone’s setting resolutions and goals, and this post is when I’m supposed to set goals too and declare that I’m Starting! Fresh! and Making! Myself! Over! and Changing! My! Life!. I have done it before, even to some success.

But this year, I just can’t. I’m not going to set myself up for failure. I’m too tired. I’m too aware of how I measure up to “normal” people – right now my goals are to sleep through the night and not poop myself in public. Am I a Crohn’s patient or a six week old baby? YOU DECIDE. Right now my mom is cringing that I’m talking about that on the internets. Sorry, Mom. I never could keep my mouth shut.

So this is the year of no resolutions. No goals. I’m going to keep my goals very close to realistic – “today I’m going to do two loads of laundry” kind of realistic.

There’s some possibly rather large things happening this year, some that I have to be vague about, sorry. I know how obnoxious that is. But, we both turn 30 this year, Mr. PW may go on a cool trip in May, we both may go on a cool trip in August, we’ve got two wonderful weddings for two very dear couples (on the same weekend in June, eep!) and both brides have asked me to do their makeup (HALP HALP HALP).

Besides that, I just want to live, day to day, take good care of my family, and not screw up too badly. That’s not unreasonable, is it?

 

Leaving you with one of my favorite moments from our subdued holidays: my lovely Papou, who’s too old to have a cat of his own but still loves them dearly, having a moment visiting with our youngest, Charlie, who obliged us by sitting still and purring in his particularly loud and rattly way, and making Papou’s day.

Hello, folks.


I hope you all had lovely holidays, whatever and however you celebrate.

I’m not going to lie. it’s been a long, sad month for us. Ten days before Christmas, Mr. PW’s stepfather was killed in a workplace accident. The past few weeks have been a blur of making arrangements and shaking hands. If you recall, Mr. PW’s father died in April. So we’ve buried two parents in eight months.

Christmas was understandably subdued. Cookies were baked, presents were exchanged. But no one’s heart was really in it.

Mr. PW was in the midst of finals week when it happened. Again. So he’s picking up those pieces. The house is a mess. We have no food in the fridge. I’m behind on bills. The stress of the past couple of weeks has thrown my Crohn’s into a tailspin.

I will see you after the New Year. I am happy to see 2011 in my rear view mirror. It’s been a long, sad, demoralizing 365 days. After the New Year we will try again, because that’s what we do.

Because it has to get better sometime.



 

 

This Veteran’s Day, I’d like to thank my husband. Not only for his service, but for what he’s taught me since then. Before Mr. PW, I thought that everyone in the military was the same – right wing, fundamentalist Christian nutcases with racist views against brown people. After Mr. PW, I’ve met enough veterans to realize that that view was incredibly sheltered and naive – the kinds of people in the military are as varied as the kinds of people in the civilian world. There are indeed some of the people as described above (just like there are in my office), but there’s plenty of people with the opposite views, and plenty of people who fall somewhere in between – and all of them are just doing the best they can under very stressful circumstances.

Also, in the past couple of years we’ve become immersed in veterans’ issues, specifically the special issues that Vietnam Veterans face, and it’s become something I feel deeply about. The fact that we may see the same – and worse – happen with our Iraq and Afghanistan vets is something that seems unavoidable yet wholly preventable.

I hope you’ll take the time to get to know a vet in your community. They’re good people, with strong hearts. My vet certainly is.

(Dear male readers, should there be any: this is an entry about shopping. And boobs, but not in a fun way. Feel free to skip this one.) (It was also written last week… so pretend it’s Thursday, or something.)

Lunch hours are dangerous.

I took the rare lunch hour today and went to Kohl’s, meaning to buy a bra. ALL I WANTED WAS A BRA. I wasn’t even going to buy a fun one, either. No pushup, no leopard print, no plunge. I just wanted a smooth, nude-colored Old Lady Bra that wouldn’t dig into my ribs halfway through the work day. Is that too much to ask?

Well, apparently it is, because despite the 975,049,857,339 bras crammed onto the racks in the lingerie section, and three separate handfuls I took back to the fitting rooms, not a single bra fit. And I have it lucky, too – I’m exactly average in cup/band size, both my boobs are the same size, I’m not plus size or too broad shouldered or anything. I should be the easiest person on the planet to fit.

AND YET.

There are so many aspects of bra-buying to consider. You’ve got cup size, cup shape, the circumference of your rib cage, the distance between your boobs, the distance from your boob to your shoulder, the thickness of the straps, headlight dimmers (you know what I mean!), padding, whether it makes your boss look at your eyes or your chest while he’s talking to you, if you can see it through your favorite sweater… car buying, estate planning, and childbirth are all a breeze compared to this.

So, no bra. What’s a girl to do? Consolation shop, of course. I wandered over to the shoes and found some flats for $12. Score, except I bought them in three different colors, so maybe that cancels out the savings? And they don’t help you at the register either. The perky girl who tried to push a credit card on you prints our your perky receipt and grabs a perky red pen and circles a number at the bottom and perks out “You saved $90 today!” No. I spent $50. Stop enabling me, chickie. I have more free time than I do either money or closet space and you are not helping.

Whatever, dude. Me and my pancake boobs at least have cute shoes.

 

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The new kitten, Oakley. Right now he’s sequestered away from our two boys while we tame him a bit.

Fer real, how do y’all do this every day?

I know you don’t have better phones than me, because that orange, jack o’lantern-bedecked beauty up there is my very own brand new iPhone 4S. I do know you have better work bathrooms than I do. Mine is busted and dark. I also know the rest of you are much less spazzy than me and you know how to hold the phone and how to pose.

My first smartphone ever! I’m finally part of the cool clique. Siri is just as fun as everyone says she is. Mr. PW and I spent the weekend asking her questions like “What’s the meaning of life? How cold is it in Moscow?” and telling her we loved her. She’s got some pretty funny built-in responses to dumb questions. We also spent a lot of time Face-Timing each other from across the room.  Because we are dorks.

We’ve had an incredibly eventful week, not all of which I can discuss (NO NOT PREGNANT) but the highlights were our anniversary, a great dinner with friends, iPhones, and a foster kitten!. The house is a mess and I need sleep but dangit, our lives are fun right now.

Let me set the scene for you.

Maybe you’re driving home from work. It’s a lovely day, but the traffic is ridonkulous. You’re backed up for miles, creeping slowly forward. Everyone around you in the other cars is tired, hungry, and impatient to be home.

Or maybe you’re zooming down the highway at 65*, passing a car full of a mom and her kids on one side, and a semi with a burly driver on the other.

Now imagine that an awesome song comes on the radio, or cycles up next on your iPod. This song RULES. This song makes you sing along and dance in your seat every. single. time you hear it.

 

Maybe you brush your shoulder off with Jay-Z.



Maybe you’re being a pretty girl with Keri Hilson.



If you’re my mom, you’re wailing about a bridge over troubled water.



Or maybe it’s your (ahem, my) favorite song of all time:



And you are boppin’, jumping around and drumming on the steering wheel and singing along at the top of your lungs.

And out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of the person in the car next to you, and they are watching you.

I’m going to ask you a favor at this moment, one that might be scary, and might be hard.

Don’t stop.

Don’t stop dancing. Don’t stop singing. If it helps to pretend like you don’t see them watching you, do that. But don’t stop. If you have an extra bit of courage saved up, maybe even you could sing to the person in the other car.

Here’s why. That other person in that other car – maybe they’re having a hard day. Maybe they’re worried about money. Maybe their back hurts. You know that they hate being in that traffic jam as much as you do, at the very least. And I’m telling you, seeing you dance and sing is one of the best things that’s happened to them all day. It’s making them smile. It’s lifting them just a little bit. They’re not laughing at you, I promise. They’re not thinking less of you. They’re happy to see someone happy, even a stranger. Joy is infectious. So keep bopping, and don’t be afraid.


 

 

*what? I totally go the speed limit and no faster. Don’t you?
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The iPhone 5.

You’re either squeeing or rolling your eyes at this point. If you’re rolling your eyes, perhaps you should move on. If you’re squeeing or at least halfway interested, help me think out loud.


Right now, we’re with Verizon and we’ve got crappy little LG phones that came free with our plan. They work well enough…. as long as you’re outside…. and have enough battery….. and are facing the right way… and it isn’t storming. We can’t talk on the phone inside our own house. All the other person hears is scattered syllables, and then the call drops. I’ve gotten used to calling people on my drive home from work, which honestly is not the safest habit I’ve ever cultivated. And we’re paying almost $130 a month for this. I’m feeling a teeny bit ripped off, to be honest. Our contract was up in May, so we’re month to month while we figure out what to do.

When Mr. PW got his bacherlor’s degree, his graduation gift was going to be an iPhone. We didn’t have enough money then, so it got pushed back. And pushed back. And pushed back. And now, while we’re still poor as all heck, we’ve worked really hard to get our bills under control. We’ve turned down a few social opportunities that we knew would cost us money. I got a (small) raise at work. And (full circle) the iPhone 5 is going to be announced on October 4. Seems like this is the perfect time to take the plunge and switch over to AT&T, right?

Except that I’m dithering, like I always do. Dither dither dither.

- It’s a luxury. It is. We really haven’t done anything to earn that luxury. Our current phones do work most of the time, even if we hate them.

- Depending on if AT&T changes its plans, we may not end up saving anything on our monthly bill.

- No guarantees that AT&T will work any better in our house than Verizon does.

- (I can’t believe I’m admitting this to the internets) I had to borrow money from my mother to help pay medical bills this summer. She’s going to continue helping until I get my current round of symptoms cleared up. Kind of a slap in the face for her if we got iPhones, no?

- There are “better” things this money could be going to, like paying down debt or building our savings.

On the other hand:

- they’re a luxury, but they’re alos the way our peers are headed. Our heavily involved in politics peer group is online almost 24-7. They’re also de rigeur for grad students, and Mr. PW is at a distinct disadvatage without a smartphone, especially while teaching.

- The reception in our house might not get better, but it can’t get much worse. Neither can our monthly bill. And past the inital capital output, they’re not any more expensive than any other phone.

- Smartphones has apps. Lots and lots of apps. I can get one to track prices at the grocery store, one to connect to our Mint account, one to track our calendar. Hell, just in the iTunes store, there’s over a half-dozen just to track my Crohn’s symptoms! My life’s basic functions are simply to take care of my health, take care of my family, manage our (scarce) money wisely, and take care of our household. There’re apps for ALL of these functions. The potential for organization has me chomping at the bit.

-  I’m not even going to lie: they are a shiny toy and they are very cool and I want one, the end.

I’ll take any thoughts or comments, harsh as they may be.