Colorless Green Ideas Unintentionally Amusing In Person
Thursday, September 11, 2003
I suppose I could say something about The Anniversary, but I’m not going to. Lots of other people have things to say about it. I think I like this one best—because, let’s be honest, finger pointing about who did what to whom when and deserved what is not going to help make this world the kind of place it should be, it is now?
And that’s all I have to say about that.
Mimi, who is very, very funny, is a new mother, and LT is a father. This makes me happy, because I have been worrying lately about how my Grad School Plans are going affect our ability to be parents. I decided a while ago that if we mess about long enough that a traditional pregnancy is hard to conjure (and, realistically, if I’m 33-37, it probably will be), then adoption is the way to go. And, really, adoption might be the way to go anyhow.
I mean, I am curious what it would be like to be pregnant, but it sounds, you know, hard. And inconvenient.
And I have to pee urgently often enough now, not pregnant at all, so the mind boggles at what it would be like if there was someone kicking me in the bladder. I’d have to wear Depends or something, I’m sure. Not sexy.
And, clearly, you’re just as much a mommy if you are the mommy to a baby that someone else cooked for you. Which makes me happy, because it’s one more reason why I should just go, just do grad school and not be afraid that I am going to ruin my life, because there are alternative options to pursue for all of my little side goals, and I can be a happy and creatively-fulfilled mid-thirties-mother, rather than a frustrated early-thirties mother.
I keep forgetting, during the summer, when it’s nice and sunny and beautiful in the Pacific Northwest, that I hate the weather here.
This summer was gorgeous—hot and full of sunshine, and 80-to-90-plus degrees for most of June, July, and August. Wonderful. But on Sunday the rain started, and it’s been mostly gray and rainy ever since. Blech.
I know that nothing is really any different than it was on Saturday in the sunshine, but everything just seems worse in the rain.
It makes me want to go limp and lie huddled under a blanket with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in my hand (and extras in the freezer, for when I run out), and watch movies on dvd, and maybe play video games, and then eat a whole bag of Doritos, and then moan about how fat I am, so that my husband has to rally ‘round with moral support and emergency backup supplies of ice cream.
I recognize, on some higher-brain level, a level that mostly keeps working even in the rain these days, that the above-mentioned plan, while attractive, is not the most appropriate choice, and will not really benefit me in any way, and may in fact cause me to further depart from my on-again-off-again goals, which include physical fitness and personal fulfillment, because even though Ben & Jerry’s makes a lot of wonderful flavors, they do not have New! Personal Fulfillment! With Caramel & Fudge Swirls & Brownie Pieces! even though, clearly, they should. And Doritos, while tasty, will not improve my GRE scores in any way, and will eventually cause a rather unpleasant chemical sensation in my mouth, which I do not like.
What I should do is buy the darn GRE book and study, and also I should go to the gym after work, because T.H., quite rationally, thinks that we should get back with the program, and get into shape, and I suppose he has a point, particularly since I was shown the costume that I may be wearing at the Museum of Horrors next month, and, my god, that skirt is short, which makes the gym a slightly more urgent issue than it would be otherwise.
What I want is to have all of these things, these goals, just materialize for me, and fall, gracefully, into my lap, which will be slimmer and more svelte, because one of those goals is me losing a bunch of pounds from the excess seat padding that I currently cart around. And, yes, you who are thinking that, boy, complaining about it, and whining about how I need to lose weight is sure helpful, and I’ll sure lose tons of blubber if I just keep bitching long enough—yes, you’re right, I will, actually, and if I can’t whine here, then where can I whine? And I certainly can whine here if I want to, and, who knows, maybe getting this all out of my head and into the whooshy binary of the Internet will make me less bitter and more willing to actually go to the gym after work, instead of just thinking about it.