Sugared Harpy

Saturday, the clouds parted and the angels did sing for three women were able to sneak away from children, husbands, Dysons, and work to meet for a St. Louis micro-BlogHer.

I met Pickleness and Midwestern Mommy.

Why yes, I AM a stud of infinite proportions.

Just by reading their blogs you know they are hilarious, fabulous, brilliant, snarky, amazing women. In real life, they are even better. So down to earth and funny, I felt like I’ve known these guys for years. I feel guilty even being allowed to know women so great. Both are so remarkably cool, I smiled like a madwoman during the entire lunch.

Our four-hour lunch. That felt like thirty minutes.

I met Lisa first. We pulled in the parking lot within a minute of each other and I actually walked right past her as we walked to the door. We met in the lobby and she is so warm and sweet, I loved her instantly. She said something like, “Oh, you’ll know Stephanie because of her great smile.” And I did. When Stephanie walked in, I knew it was her because she just exudes this feeling of being happy to see you.

And oh my god, did I tell you how pretty they are? They are pretty!

They look adorable and I’m sporting a lazy ponytail and a too-red face.

Mama of the Midwest!

Her highness, Pickleness!

One would have thought I was drunk with the non-stop unloading of Unbloggable Baggage, but these two ladies didn’t seem to mind and then did the unthinkable…they related and shared!

Lisa is the kind of person you want to hang out with all the time. She is great at doing the thing I am so terrible at, remembering to ask great questions! (Hey Lisa, I think I asked you like eight questions that I – duh!- already knew from your blog and emails.) I have so much more I want to ask and learn about. She is such an interesting person and I loved the way she talks about her son, her family, her neighbors, and herself. She is just so engaging, bright, and fun that you want to listen to everything. I may have gazed a little too deeply into her gorgeous eyes once or twice. She is darling and polite and then she pulls out a snarkalicious, “What the hell!” and you fall in love all over again.

Stephanie is fantastic and I want to carry her in my pocket at all times. Her job is super cool and one I totally hope I need call upon someday. She has an impeccable sense of humor and a flair for making everyone feel instantly comfortable. I loved just hearing about her little boy (Hugo!) and how he got his name. I am so grateful she shared his birth story because it reminds me just how institutionalized our birthing system is and what I want to think about this time. Stephanie is wonderful at giving you her life and experiences and then really getting into your story, easily going back and forth, laughing and wailing with you. She is a great storyteller with the best smile and a shiny, shiny pair of smartypants.

Thank you both so much for making me into a smiley pile of goo, I adore you both! I hereby announce that I heart you and would like to see what happens when martinis are introduced!

This only makes me want to get together with more of you who blog in St. Louis. I would love to gather with Anne, Theresa, Christine (all three people I loved before blogging and therefore you will too), Raquita, Angie, Jaelithe, Shark-Fu, SarahLynn, Andrea, Stepped on a Crack, and crap, I feel like I’m missing people. It’s like selected friend-making! Stephanie, Lisa, and I commented on how interesting it is to meet people whose blogs you read because you kind of already know how you fit with them and their beliefs, cares, interests, etc. Like a really, really long personal ad. With embarrassing pictures, politics, and poop stories.

I just learned that the next BlogHer will be in Chicago, so yay!

But listen here, my beatiful bitches, I still want to get together sooner than next year. I call a St. Louis blogging ladies’ night out!

The No List entry for Penelope Room.

This is not who I met yesterday.  Ha!  You have to wait for that!

I met people today.

Ladies.

Hot bloggy ladies.

More to come later. Well, unless they get to it before I do.

I know, I’m a blogtease.

We shop at Sam’s. Yes, the super warehouse giantico. Because lo, the toilet paper is cheap and the yogurt is plentiful and the Naked orange juice comes in a gallon jug.

Typically, we buy the Mondo Tampax Box. 100 count.

It took me years to get to the point where I could buy tampons in bulk. I don’t mind buying, carrying, using, or discussing tampons at length. But carrying a box of tampons the full length of my head and torso gives me the willies. Like HELLO! I BLEED! (Which at this point, I’m still totally fine.) (Here is where I lose my shit:) I BLEED A LOT! DUDE, LIKE SO FUCKING MUCH! I’m totally going to use this all in ONE month! I’ll be back in a few weeks! HIGH FIVE!

But now, I’m okay. Mostly. But for a while I’ve been able to purchase the monster box of Tampax at Sam’s. Today we went to Sam’s. I need tampons. But we didn’t buy the ginormous package.

Mike: Do you need tampons.

Me: Yep.

Mike: Okay, we’ll grab some while we’re here.

Me: You know, maybe not. Maybe let’s just get a regular sized box and press our luck.

Mike: * silence *

Goddamn stoic.

—
Renaissance Rivals on Penelope Room today.

You may recall that Mike and I are going to attempt the art of doing it to conceive. I’m overfuckingjoyed and a wee bit obsessed, not because I’m baby obsessed but because my personality is one in which I obsess in general. It’s why I like my work, it’s career-sanctioned obsessing.

Mike is a stoic. I hate it. This is typical of a baby-centered conversation in our house:

Me: OMG! I totally won this childbirth multi-media kit from Cool Mom Picks!! Now we don’t have to sit next to stupid young lovebirds having their first luvmuffinbabydustedembie. The ones who don’t realize their ass is going to be handed to them in a few months. And, that they will lose their shit.

Mike: You’re not pregnant.

Me: I will be, motherfucker. See plan:

Mike: Yeah, but you’re not yet.

Me: I hate you.

Mike also likes to pretend that our babymaking endeavors are five years away and we have all this time to think about it, when CLEARLY there is no more time left and we haven’t lost any weight and are you taking enough vitamins and shouldn’t you at least Google this and why haven’t we bought any books yet? Motherfucker.

This is not a good way to reassure your wife that you really do want to have another baby:

Me: Seriously, are you excited or not? Why don’t you even want to talk about it constantly like I do?

Mike: I am excited.

Me: That does not sound convincing. I mean, no little tummy flip-flop when you think about it? Nothing?

Mike: I am excited. See. Excited.

Me: Stoic motherfucker.

I am pleased to announce that I have cracked the stoic exterior with a single pair of booties.

These booties:

In a previous life that ended about two years ago Mike thought it was super cool to wear socks with sandals. No matter how much we taunted, Mike would pull on his white socks and black sandals every day. Yes, even in the winter. With jeans. Or shorts. And a sweater.

So I’ve been meaning to send him a picture of these, to see if I would get the usual “you’re not pregnant yet,” where I would have to reply with my usual, “motherfucker.”

This morning I emailed him a picture of the sock/sandal booties circa Mike, 1990-2004, with this message:

This is what your baby will wear.

I received this reply (and please note how totally normal this response is):

Those are awesome.

Aw yeah, mofo’s ready to do it.

Our neighborhood is one of those lucky few that didn’t lose power until Friday morning and then got it back Saturday night.  And, Friday and Saturday were nice, cool days.  We dragged mattresses to the basement last night and slept comfortably.

There are still so many people (318, 642) who have been suffering without electricity in the muggy St. Louis heat since Wednesday, after the first severe storm hit the area.  Friday’s storm knocked out the rest, or, it knocked out the power of people who had just gotten it back from Wednedsay.  Some coworkers were told it may be until Tuesday before their neighborhoods are repaired.

When I say those neighborhood are without power, let me add that the businesses have no power, the grocery stores have no power, and?  Water mains are breaking causing flooding and a loss of water in businesses and homes.  Give some love to Theresa, please.

In the tradition of smug white privilege, I overheard this string of commentary Friday after we were released from a powerless museum:

Smug White Privileged Person 1: “I just can’t believe all the people who are staying in their homes and not going to a hotel or to a family member’s house who has air conditioning.  I mean, just get in your car and GO where the air conditioning is.  People are so stupid and stubborn sometimes.”

SWPP 2: “Oh, I KNOW.  It’s just like Katrina.  There’s no reason you can’t leave.”

Go read this: Amy Sohn: Pissing of moms, dads, and Tibetans, immigrants, feminists, women, and also? People who think, you know, complete thoughts with a swish of intellect and a dictionary.

When you are angry, rightfully so, at this uneducated piece of turd that fails to express emotion or writing ability, click this for an excellent response: Mr. Nice Guy’s, “Ok, So I Took the Bait.”

Discuss. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I hope the rest of you in St. Louis and St. Charles county get your power back on soon. I hope I do, too.

—

*I’m hanging out at a place of employment borrowing free wireless. I may or may not be using this wireless for good.

It takes a lot to turn the tractor beam on ourselves.  I salute the Raving Atheist and send many thanks for this new post along the interweb.

Say what?  Click HERE.

Since the beginning of the month, I’ve had the kids start in a little light homeschooling to prepare them for the upcoming school year. Note: I do not homeschool in general; they attend public school. Yet both had forgotten so much and it doesn’t take much out of our day to do it. I think it’s helping them not kill each other as the summer boredom sets in. I think it keeps them quiet so I don’t stuff them in a FedEx box and ship them to Canada. Eh.

Today, Brett handed in this:
(front)

(back)

I can’t sleep.  Again.  Not only does my unmedicated depression drive me batshit crazy, it keeps me awake while it’s dark.  Come light of day, I could fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. Seething hate.