1. Making an appointment to finally use the gift certificates Mike gave me for Christmas. It’s high time and much needed.
2. An I Heart My Dog picture frame early birthday present in the mail from my MIL.
3. A sweet birthday card from my sister.
4. Six weeks before the ‘average last frost date’ (when I can plant some of my first flower seeds) is only two weeks away!
5. Coffeecake shared by a coworker.
But I just have to gloat.
I have somewhat recently engaged in a mind-numbingly immature blog war on meatspace. You may recall the whole “porch people” debacle. Speaking of being the bigger person…I was not. But that’s not what I’m gloating about. You can totally stop reading this now if you haven’t already, because I’m sure nobody cares. I just have to express my glee at the resolution, over which I had no control. Almost makes me believe in karma.
In a nutshell, one of my very best friends in the whole world has one of the craziest psycho exes on record. He put her in financial and emotional peril, cyberstalked her, plastered incredibly personal details all over myspace, and even engaged in physical violence with her current boyfriend. Nobody ‘wins’ a fistfight, but the ex was certainly more bruised and bloodied than the current. The really sick thing about the whole situation is that he also has a new girlfriend. She doesn’t seem to mind at all that her boyfriend is totally consumed with his ex-girlfriend. It boggles the mind, but…whatever.
His new girlfriend is pregnant. He took it upon himself to assume they were having a girl so that he could steal the rather original baby name that my friend had picked out and set her heart on since age 14 or so. She of course shared this with him while they were together, thinking optimistically that their problems would work themselves out and that they’d have kids together. Now, of course there is no law governing the possession or use of names for hypothetical children. But given that she has loved this name since adolescence, well before she met him, it was really an asshole thing for him to do. He was just trying to hurt her even more than he already had, and he almost succeeded.
But guess what. It’s a boy. I’ve been saving a cigar for just such an occasion.
I don’t know if it’s incredibly childish or fiercely loyal of me to hate that guy so much, but I really do. It started out with me just defending my friend and poking some fun at him and his friends, but at one point he actually stooped to making fun of my skin coloring. At that point something in my psyche reverted to the age when I last tolerated such ignorance, probably about second or third grade. The gloves came off and I decided that in dealing with him, there was no point in reserving a sense of respectful argument. I totally stooped to his level, but I think my friend would do the same for me if the shoe had been on the other foot. Of that part, I am proud.
1. My first day of half-caff isn’t going to kill me. I might even stick with it.
2. It’s 50 degrees outside.
3. My brother-in-law emailed me another “helpful” news article and I didn’t lose my shit this time. At all. Look at me, I’m growing!
4. Not freaking out over turning 29 in a few days. I don’t know if I’ll truly age gracefully, but I am going to make a concerted effort to not fall into the youth = beauty obsession or needlessly amplify the sound of my ticking biological clock.
5. Dexter is still a big lovebug.
So. Nadya Suleman. She had eight babies at once. And she already had six. No job, no husband, no income, etc. Taxpayer burden, selfish, crazy, blah, blah, blah. You can probably guess where I land on this one. Heather at dooce.com took up the issue with another few bloggers in a momversation video.
I agree with Heather. You can’t attack reproductive rights on a case-by-case basis just because she made what most would deem a bad personal medical decision. I question her mental acuity and think her choice was likely made with selfish motivations, but it is the doctor who transferred so many embryos who is at fault. His ethics failed. It is not unethical to be crazy and a parent. It is not my place, or anyone’s place, to judge what she wants for a family.
What bothers me the most is people calling her Octomom and referring to her children as a litter. That only serves to dehumanize her so that people feel justified in spewing out vitriol on her and judging her fitness to parent these kids. The intense hatred that is being voiced says way more about our attitudes about race and class in this country than it does about her or her parenting skills. The idea that octuplets would be more socially acceptable if she were white, married, and rich is despicable. The doctor who transferred so many embryos without first getting her to agree to selectively reduce should all implant is the one who should be up for judgment professionally and in the court of public opinion, not her. As for the cost of rearing them, I fail to see how it makes much of a difference whether taxpayer support is given to eight children in eight different families or eight children all under one roof. People saying that the children should be removed from her care without any evidence of abuse or neglect for her other six children would quickly change their tune if that type of reasoning could be applied to them based upon, say, how many drinks they have with dinner out and then drive their kids home, or whether they smoke around their kids, or whether they force their kids to sit in proper car seats and buckle up. It will be interesting to see how public opinion on this issue changes over time, if at all.
1. Isaac Mizrahi on UGLY BETTY: “I am this close to throwing a tantrum right now!”
2. Watching Dexter go full speed to fetch the ball when Mike throws it.
3. Tiny fuzzy buds popping out on the clematis.
4. Vacation plans.
5. Procrastinating something pleasant rather than unpleasant for once.
I haven’t really revisited politics much since the election and so neglected to mention how cool I think this is:
Madame Secretary (via Shakesville)
1. A few potential big hits at work.
2. Dexter’s non-dramatic transformation to a truly good, good dog.
3. Getting over the pet peeve of mixing navy and black wardrobe-wise. It gets more shoes into rotation. Lets get some shoes!
4. Tom Petty’s song Wildflowers. Sweet nostalgia.
5. Leftover danish from a meeting I didn’t have to attend. Mmmm….cheese.
