Now that Jesus is out of the way, I'll talk about my journal. This is one of those obnoxious sticky posts about how I'm this person, hi, I like long walks on the beach, should we perhaps become LJ friends?

Let's talk about that.

I'm baffled by faith and amused by fundamentalism. Plenty of religious folks see no problem with either, but if you do we're not a good fit.

As long as we're on the topic of religion, how about this? Anyone looking to restrict my (or anyone else's) access to abortion on some bullcrap sanctity of life basis, for example, is a flaming, senseless misogynist in my book and shouldn't bother. Why? Because most members of this breed would allow for a few exceptions, which transforms their stance from "abortion is murder" to "I'm okay with murder if the mother jumps through sufficient hoops to placate my moral sense of outrage." And now that I've said that, I'm not interested in debating abortion in the least; I discuss it sometimes, but pro-life people need not get involved because insofar as I'm concerned they're either very young and immature (and I'm not interested in giving the same Feminism 101 lessons over and over) or too full of the good ol' sense of sin and damn-ye-sluts-hatred for me to think they're anything but hypocritical, selfish and woman-hating.

Ah. And with slightly less venom... this journal is obviously not friends-only. I post some locked entries, mostly on topics that a) involve other people or b) are of a deeply personal nature* read about my partner's butt hair, but the majority of what I've written is accessible to anyone.

I'm always looking for interesting new LJ friends, comment here if you want to play. Like most people, I tend to think that other folks with at least somewhat overlapping/compatible interests are interesting, but honestly? We don't have to be twins. A snarky sense of humour and some empathy go a long way. Or a snarky sense of humour and some perspective. Or, what the hell, just post.

A lot of my journal deals with my day-to-day life with my spawn and partner; that some people might find this domesticity dull goes without saying. I'm making a point of this anyway to deter those who wouldn't be interested, and also because I firmly believe that while being a stay-at-home parent is sometimes relentless and boring, it's certainly not pointless, wasteful or not worth writing about. I resent the implication I should shut up because I'm currently living a 'small' life in a traditionally female sphere of life. I've led the other type of life, too, and it really isn't any better, just different.

In addition to posts of the my-kid-ate-a-toilet-brush-today ilk, I occasionally relocate the mental chops needed to write about other things. These other things include but aren't limited to the science of exercise, how goddamn much I love food and eating, my at times questionable state of mental health, relationshit, freedom from religion, all types of shit that somehow fits under the feminist or pro-woman label, leftist/proggressive politics in general, colourful baby clothing and how obsessed I am with it, the latest in cat macros, motherhood-specific topics like lactivism and birth activism particularly as a part of the spectrum of reproductive choice, etc.

And, yeah, I identify as a woman and not as genderqueer, but restrictive/gender normative crap that's sold as the Only True Way makes me foam at the mouth. In a broader sense, I tend to not to not to give a shit** about how people navigate [insert blank here] and where they live on the spectrum of traditional - what box? but this only works when we all acknowledge there are other ways of being, living, doing.


*) Other people have pointed out that my idea of personal is a little... uncommon... at times. This means I talk about my period a lot.
**) But I am curious, so I'll want to talk about your choices and mine until the cows come home.

Thank you, Stinky, for this head cold.

Yesterday meant Eurovision, and usually I'd be posting about that here in detail. What's stopping me are a) the blandness of this year's contestants, and b) oozing phlegm out of every pore of my being, which makes it hard to focus. I want American drugs! Dayquil!

Not all the entries were disappointing however, and here's one that upheld the Eurovision traditions: Romania's waxed countertenor. I particularly liked the floating red dildos.




Before spending three and half hours in front of the television, we went over to my older sister-in-law's place to grill the hell out of a variety of foodstuffs. Our barbeques are starting to get out of hand with the amount of food involved. I've also got to say this was the first time I saw Moslems toasting each other with beer and Salaam Alaikums. The in-laws of my in-laws do not appear to be particularly devout... or maybe it's a Persian thing, it occurs to me that nearly all of the Persian poetry I've read has tended to deal with drinking wine.

I've spent much of today on the ads we'll be taking to the printer ASAP. I'd gotten around to wondering what's going to happen with dinner -- it's nearly 7 pm -- when the doorbell rang. It was my SIL's boyfriend with a potato casserole. And my other SIL's au pair took Her Cranky But Not Particularly Ill Majesty to the playground earlier, then spent a few more hours playing with her.

This support network thing, it's fantastic.

I could say I resisted the temptation to post about what an uncooperative poophead my spouse was being yesterday but I'd be speaking out of my arse: LJ was down, the moment passed, and then W acknowledged that he's stressed and behaving like a raging bag of genitalia. So enough about that, I have those moments too.

Sort of related, we were talking about how some of my friends think that W is awesome. Well, for all I know everybody thinks that, but the people I'm the closest to certainly seem to do so. He expressed bemusement and pointed out I complain about him a lot; cue my turn to be confused. People are multi-faceted and relationships aren't easy, of course I'm unhappy with him at times. And, being the person I am, of course I'll also express that to people who are near and dear to me with some degree of vituperation and noise, talking is how I make sense of the world. missingkeys in particular hears an awful lot about how I feel compelled to smother my spouse with a pillow at times, and she thinks he's just lovely.

Or have I posted about this already? My brain isn't keeping up.

Lastly, a whine: Stinky's staying home from kindergarten because she's full of snot and unhappiness and intent on sharing both. The next two weeks are vacation weeks in any case, so she'll be staying home. Or, really, we'll be going out together a lot. The birch pollen is supposedly long gone, so we should be able to do some hiking. But why is my asthma still being a dick?

I also have new glasses. The world is not a blur.

I don't do no modellin'!

I wanted to post about how W proclaimed "all you care about are lots of orgasms!" -- it's a good punchline, almost as good as the one in the 0.5 of a joke he knows* -- but I can't come up with what should precede it.

I call Woof The Impregnator now. (It's his goal! I told him pregnancy might make me take up knitting so that I can finally use up all the wool we have instead of buying and reading pricy ebooks. He's very clucky recently, too.) And The Impregnator is almost as good as The Persecutor, as per the Karpman drama triangle. No, no, I don't think that's wholly him, but it's his father to a t, and he does revert to somewhat less than stellar behaviour under duress. Thankfully his sense of humour remains, and I can now call him out for persecution.

No, seriously, think about it-- in the middle of a stressful argument, your spouse exclaims "YOU ARE PERSECUTING ME!" Can you take anything seriously afterwards?

Thought not. At least, we can't.


*) I lie again. He knows 2.5 jokes. Well, he did when we were dating, possibly he has forgotten all but the 0.5 by now. And that one goes like this: sniff/lick arm, growl "MEMORIES OF OLGA!"

Ha, I was looking for rain gear today and gave up in disgust when I couldn't find anything that fit my specific requirements: looks good, doesn't cost an arm and a leg, has good enough specs. No goddamn pink, we have one crap quality rain set in the colour already, and I will not be buying anything with water permeability below 5000 or 8000 mm in the future. The set we currently have is "waterproof" at 3000 mm, and it's not good enough for heavy use. Plus I just realised Her Majesty's softshell jacket (ok for light rain) is just as water resistant but also a) looks better and b) is more breathable. And what do I do with a rain set that won't let my spawn sit in puddles? Nothing.

So, good news, the VV set I bought in a larger size "to be worn in a year or two" fits already. Sort of. It's about a size, size and a half too large still, but it's practically enough designed -- rubber bands at the bottom of the jacket and on the sleeves, the dungarees have adjustable shoulder straps and buttons on the sides for getting a narrower/wider fit -- it can be worn already.

Ordered sandals for Stinky, now I need wellies and flip flops for myself and we're all set.

Ideally I'd also have the money to splurge on a bike trailer and a child's seat, a complete set of rain gear for myself (I only have a rain cape and an umbrella, both very useful but not really practical for half day or day trips outdoors when it's raining), a thinner outdoors jacket (I have a fleece jacket and a fleece-lined softshell jacket, nothing for warmer weather) and a week's holiday somewhere nice. Oh, and a mid priced DSLR camera. And a camera bag. And a new backpack, my old one is falling apart at the seams. And, while I'm at it, a driver's licence and a practical, small, used car!

We may be able to swing the backpack and a child's seat for my bicycle. We will pay for my wellies because I damn well need some. The rest... sigh. I wish I were made of money.

Went looking for some comfort reading, settled on The Lies of Locke Lamora, which was an entertaining romp-- it gets compared to Ocean's Eleven in a fantasy setting, not without undue cause, and it's deliciously profane and gory in addition to this. Also, the main character is as much of a fuck up as he's an erratic genius. Solid three stars: the good bits were very good, the bad was that I did skim some sections because, god, I can't be having it with several pages of description when I want to move on with the story. I call this the Wilkie Collins effect, although surely Scott Lynch wasn't getting paid by the word

And then I read what the author had to say to a disappointed reader and died a little inside, by which I mean I may have pissed myself laughing. I'm definitely reading the sequel.

(Also read Poison Study, which started out as a charming little book. It had the potential to be better than it was, and I don't mean to damn with faint praise: I read it with enthusiasm and did finish it, but I'm not blind to its faults. For one, I didn't like the way the romance was dealt with at the end -- it was out of character and boring compared to what came before -- and as I hear the next book is much worse in this respect and prone to gleaming moments of Mary Sue I likely won't be bothering with it.)

I've been mistaken for the teenaged daughter of the family twice this week. This is even funnier when we consider that W came home fuming today because somebody thought that he's his nephew's grandfather.

Ours is a nine year age difference, obviously exaggerated by my living in my pink crocodile pajamas. That, and some people probably need new glasses-- my skin looks every part of "32 years old, a smoker for half of this duration."

The high point of today was our gospel choir stuffing itself into a baby changing room to practice before performing at the evening's jam session. All the other rooms were taken. I've got to say that "baby, I've been here before/I know this room, I've walked this floor" had new meaning.

And then we got on stage and did four songs, one of which came as a complete surprise to me. Good times!

This weekend, I'll edit photos, clean a wee bit, read and cook. But what to eat?

So much to do, so little... shit, I don't know, that's every day now that I make this complaint. How do other people manage life? I feel like I should be having another baby just so I can scale back on managing 2340980985 things at the same time. Yes, yes, I know it doesn't work quite that way, but I don't remember feeling so torn into kazillion directions when I had my first.

"My first." Right.