Steve never takes me out. It’s why I’m so cranky. That, and the fact that my children refuse to eat anything besides spaghetti, mac n cheese n pizza and never want to watch anything except ICarly & that idiot SpongeBob Squarepants. Last night… we went out with our friends. Add it up:

sitter: 42 bucks
drinks/dinner at Pause: 50 bucks
attending our friend Tony’s art exhibit: 0 bucks because we are cheap and by we i mean Steven and didn’t buy anything
20 miniature candy bars we scarfed at exhibit: 0 bucks, they were free
drinks/appetizers at the Spaceroom which is remodeled but don’t worry, the light fixtures and murals are the same, they only messed with the back room: 30
watching Tony moonwalk across the Spaceroom’s floor because Steve heard a Pat Benatar song blasting and thought it was Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”: priceless

(Moonwalking? Spaceroom? Get it?)

We had so much fun.

ps steve it’s almost your birthday. i have no idea how old you will be this year, but i want to tell you, Happy birthday, big lover man.

“Don’t surrender your loneliness / So quickly. / Let it cut more deeply. / Let it ferment and season you / As few human / Or even divine ingredients can.”
— Hafez, poet (1315-1390)

* can’t talk about some things because. you know. let’s not get dooced.

* can’t write about other things because. you know. i have a 7-year-old, a 10-year-old and a husband who like their privacy. and would appreciate it if i told their side of things, sometimes.

* i can’t. they can just take comfort in knowing that i try, every day, to NOT talk about them — with co-workers, with friends, with family, with Internets. Years of therapy? I’m paying for my own, can’t afford anyone else’s.

* met with my surgeon/doc today for “pre-op” appointment. For those of you not “in the know,” that means “pre-operation” appointment that you go to before they slice into you, where you discuss pain meds; the need to avoid tylenol and aspirin for two weeks beforehand; how you “probably” won’t have to stay the night; how much better you’ll feel, after; how you’re not supposed to eat anything 12 hours prior to surgery. (This means I’m supposed to stay up til 2 a.m. — doc’s words — to have “a little something,” since the surgery isn’t skedded til 2 in the afternoon.)

* i can barely stay awake past 7:30 p.m. This should be interesting.

* also, if you’re me at least, and i know i am, you will discuss how “great” it is that your blood pressure is only 90/60. Haha! I work out! I take beta-blockers! I am a calm, stress-less person! Pop quiz: which of those statements is “fact”? Give up…????

* Two are fact; one is fiction.

* Now can you get it?

* I am probably one of the most tense, stressed-out people you could ever meet. True. That. True, that. True, that, to infinity and beyond. I am not proud of this, i am ashamed of it. I do not wear it on my sleeve like a badge of courage. It’s the reason why I try to eat right, get some kind of exercise every day, write in my journal, have a job i love, spend time with my family and friends who are all really nice, cool people. I don’t have an addiction to deal with, domestic abuse, a terminal illness. I have lost too many people, but honestly, haven’t we all? We all have had our losses.

* So when the medical assistant took my blood pressure, which i was convinced was going to be SKYROCKETING because i had HORRIBLE DAY — well. SKYROCKETING for me would mean 120/80 or something. Maybe 125/85 if I was just furious or something. I have this super-low blood pressure. Which is why i’m dizzy all the time. Also I take a beta-blocker, because I have funky heart condition. Because the thyroid issues and the girly issues weren’t enough, I suppose.

* Imagine my surprise when it was 88/58. The M.A. was a little worried. Said that would explain why I feel faint sometimes. “This, right here? This is the most pissed-off you are ever going to see me!” i told her. “OK, tell me about your day, then we’ll take it again.” hahahaha. I like that girl, she’s funny.

* “And THEN, and THEN, and SURGERY, and etc….” That’s how we got my BP up to 90/60, folks. It is good to have low blood pressure. It is not good to be close to passing out. i remember after giving birth to my baby girl, my BP went TUMBLING DOWN THE STAIRCASE and hit AN ALL-TIME LOW of 70 or 75 or something, over 47.

* Over 47, peeps. The monitor was all BEEPBEEPBEEPSHESDEADCOMEGETHEROUTOFHEREBEEPBEEPWENEEDTHEROOM
FORSOMEONEELSEGETAGURNEY and Steve kept flashing my pregnancy journal at them, w/ all the doc visit info, and the various BPs from throughout the months (we brought it because it was where we were scribbling, when we were timing contractions, i think? who knows.) And poor Steve kept gesturing, Here, here, and here, LOOK! SHE JUST HAS REALLY LOW BLOOD PRESSURE, SHE’S NOT DYING.

* Did I have a point with this post? the bullets? the ranting?

* Yes.

* Doc says tylenol = bad, bad, bad; morphine = good, good, good. Well. That has always been my motto, so I’m glad the Medical Community is finally catching up. Seriously — the “talk-talk” going around now is that we all, right here, right now, have ENOUGH TYLENOL IN OUR SYSTEMS TO LAST US A LIFETIME. Can i make that any CAPPIER for you? All kinds of people (who shouldn’t be, who are otherwise healthy) are showing up with liver disease and failure, cuz of TOO MUCH TYLENOL.

* interesting.

* But it’s okay, while i’m healing up, if i need morphine. only my BP will probably drop even lower, which could be, y’know. Problematic.

* think they’d let me bring one of those handy little machines home with me, just in case?

love,

wm

ps i always feel the need to give this disclaimer: i am no medical professional, go find yourself one if you need one.

pss — “Now, I’m not a pharmacist…” — comedian Kathy Griffin

ppss just remember: tylenol = bad; morphine = good

I love this video. Brad Paisley, Costanza, Costanza’s ma, Captain Kirk, Marcia Brady… it really does have it all. hahaha. Enjoy.

happy Wednesday to you.

— wm

…hearing these words:

“The role of Lucky Spencer is now being played by Jonathan Jackson.”

i love you all over again, General Hospital.

— wm

ps really missing facebook, just fyi. you know what they say in Texas: que sara sara.

that’s all.

wm

Now reading:

Lots to read this month, and the candy hangover from last night is not helping me concentrate. Self-inflicted torture, I know. Damn you, miniature Milky Ways and Hershey bars. haha.

Veronica Buckley’s new book, “The Secret Wife of Louis IV, Francoise D’Aubigne, Madame de Maintenon” (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, $35, 498 pages), would be a great pick for a book club, but only if your book club actually reads. Do any of you belong to book clubs, out there? I know you do. Is yours more about the wine and the talk-talk, or the books? I like a good mix of both — it’s hard to find. This biography has loads of art, family trees and salacious gossip. Perfect. Buckley’s other biography, “Christina, Queen of Sweden,” also sounds great. Check ’em out.

That one was for the grown-ups, but the next two are for young adults and families.

Marge Pellegrino’s “Journey of Dreams” (Frances Lincoln Children’s Books, $15.95, 250 pages), is one I think more serious students will enjoy. It’s the story of Tomasa, her journey north with her brother, baby sister and father, running away from the Guatemalan army and in search of her mother and brother. Nicely written, with good descriptions and a fast-paced (but not too fast) plot. (Themes of genocide and danger.)

I have to admit, the cynic in me fought a little against opening up “Growing Up Global: Raising Children to Be at Home in the World,” by Homa Sabet Tavangar (a “businesss consultant” and mother of three. I think that sort of got the hackles going, too. Business consultant? Alrighty). (Ballantine Books, $16, 281 pages.) You know who doesn’t fly anywhere anymore? Me. I can’t fly anymore. So long, Caribbean. I probably won’t see you. Paris? Ditto. But I can still venture to Canada… Mexico… anywhere in the U.S. (Love road trips — just have inner ear and motion sickness that prevents me from flying.) But this book has lots of tips and suggestions, even if you’re an “armchair global citizen.” There’s nothing to stop you from learning about other cultures, at school, in your own living room, or at your local library.

* Did you know, for instance, that Papua New Guinea (find it on the globe) contains fewer than six million people, but has the most languages of any country — 832. Mexico has 295 native languages.

* She has to throw in her little promo’s for the Gates Foundation. Blech.

* But then rebounds with lists of movies, books and activities.

* Websites? Sure. With tips on investing responsibly, saying “no” to violence” and information on UNIFEM, UNICEF, Save the Children’s Annual Mother’s Index, Worldpulse.com and the Girl Effect.

All right. It’s worth purchasing, this one.

Happy Sunday!

— wm

i thought it was gone, but it’s not — thursday 13, alive & kickin’… so i’d better write one, eh? In honor of Halloween and my baby sister’s impending nuptials, I present:

The Wacky Mommy Thursday Thirteen, Halloween Edition, with an emphasis on WEDDING DRESSES

1) my sister, when we were in the middle of wedding dress shopping today, “You know who hates shopping more than us? Mom. Mom hates shopping more than we do.”

2) she does. our mom hates shopping. my sister isn’t keen on shopping and i’m not, either. especially since i have more boob, hip and BUTT now. Awwwwwww, it’s the New Old Wacky Mommy Body.

3) Did I tell you Happy Halloween yet? No? Happy Halloween! We’re celebrating by eating miniature candy bars, chocolate chip cooky bars, and later, we will have some kind of non-chocolate related feast for dinner. Steve is drinking a Red Stripe and I’m enjoying my 2nd nice glass of white wine. Abymes Vin de Savoie, 2008, from France. me: “mmm, this is nice!” steve: “honey. it’s cheap white French table wine. you need to branch out from the pinot grigio.” he’s right, i do.

4) My other new favorite: Trevisiol Prosecco Venteto, Extra Dry, from Small Vineyards, Seattle, Wash. We drink it with a splash of grapefruit juice, with a sugar cube dropped in, in a sugared-rim martini glass. (that idea was from Brian Boitano. i love his show, “What Would Brian Boitano Make?” on the Food Network. This Amaretto Prosecco Sour also sounds good.)

5) i believe my mom and sister are coming over to have Halloween dinner with us and take the kids out tricker treating. fun!

6) Do you celebrate Halloween? Day of the Dead? Some kind of harvest festival? Please advise.

7) OK, back to wedding dresses. My sister, just six weeks shy of her wedding date, has been a little nervous about the whole “wedding dress” portion of the occasion. I was, too, after we visited a stuck-up shop (i will not include their name here). (oh, what the hell of course I will. Tower Bridal, not to be confused with Tower Records, at the Water Tower at John’s Landing. Really should have read the reviews first, which included this gem, under the heading, “Don’t Shop Here” — “I will never ever recommend this place to anyone. When I went here looking for a dress they were nothing but rude to me. I didnt have a crap load of money to spend which can become a problem when looking at dresses. Some bridal shops dont like dealing with people on a budget and this is definately one.” I do not care if she can’t spell, that is one zinger of a review.)

8) So. They were rude there. I especially loved when the sales associate sized me up with her eyes, glanced over at the maid of honor dresses, glanced back at me and gave me a look like, “It’ll never work.” Here’s the thing: I’m not a size 2. I’m not even a size 10. The point is, I still like to look good. Who doesn’t? And it’s my sister’s wedding! Outfit us, alright? We went to a vintage place in Northwest Portland. I found two great purses, one for me, one for my sis. Then we went to another vintage place. Neither place carried wedding dresses. “It is kind of a niche,” we were told. A niche. Would it kill you to have a rack with a couple of dozen wedding dresses? Apparently it would. It would kill them, and then they would be dead and they couldn’t sell their moldy fake-fur coats and ’70s retro Marimekko knock-offs.

9) Discouraged and with no prospects, we went to Sushiville and had a delicious lunch. (For those of you keeping score: Tower Bridal: two thumbs down; vintage shops, thumbs akimbo (cuz of the purses); Sushiville: BIG thumbs up.)

10) wandered down 23rd Avenue. saw a wedding dress hanging in a window of a boutique, Cocoon Silk. “Wanna check it out?” “OK.” Full selection of dresses, scarves, shoes, prom dresses, party dresses, dresses for little girls, big girls, mothers of the bride… jewelry… Oh. my God. “Do you have this in my size?” my sister asks, about gorgeous dress after gorgeous dress, each one more spectacular than the last. “Well…” the salesclerk tells us, “Those are samples. We custom-make the dresses for you. It will take about three weeks? That’s how we do it in Cambodia, you make the dress to fit.”

11) That is how we all three, my sister, my daughter and I, all are completely won over by Sovanna Yun, whose family is now sewing our dresses. Black cocktail dress for me, with a blue shawl, decorated with peacocks, sequins and fringe; for my daughter, a blue dress with a matching silk ruffle bolero jacket; and my sister will be the one in white (it is a secret, thus I cannot describe it). The Red-Headed Guy is wearing a vintage suit; my husband and son will be in black.

12) That’s Cocoon Silk, and they have two locations in Portland. You can also just send them your measurements and some cash and they, in turn, will send you a stunning dress. You know how he made me feel about my body? He made me feel beautiful about my body. It’s a good body. It’s not perfect, it’s scarred, it’s too curvy — but it’s what I’ve got.

13) So… no attitude from this place. Just beauty. Go figure.

Happy Thirteen and Happy Halloween, y’all! Best wishes to my sis and her guy.

My favorite Halloween post ever. have a good Halloween, y’all.

— wm

“Any World (That I’m Welcome To)”

— Steely Dan (from “Katy Lied”)

My son is worried I’ll die during surgery. Because he knows that when they give dogs a shot and “make them go to sleep” they stay asleep. They die. I won’t die, I’ll be okay, baby. There’s no other option here. My daughter is worried about garbage. Too much garbage, all piling up.

“What do you think it will be like when we’re grown up, the whole world, piled up with all the garbage? Cars and garbage?”

her: “No, just thinking.”

I wish that Steve, the kids and I were going on a big road trip over the holidays. We like to go to L.A. for Christmas, and San Diego. We have friends and family there — all we have to spring for is gas and admission to Disneyland. Sometimes they’re running a “locals only” deal at Disneyland and our family gets us in for cheap.

Ah, que sera, sera, huh?

Need to work out now, then locate Steve and the kids. They’re in nests upstairs, hibernating. Did I tell you that my sister is getting married in December? (surgery is a few days after. yes, my mom did ask me to resked the surgery until “later.” I wish. it’s not me going on the honeymoon, the calendar is just fine, thanks. wish I could resked but… you know.)

i’m just going to try to think about how nice it is that she’s getting married not only to one of the coolest guys in the world, but one of steve’s best friends, to boot. The Red-Headed Guy. She’s a great girl, he’s a great guy. Mazel tov to them. let’s just think about that and daydream for awhile.

OK, some of you have been reading my blog for a long time. Remember this little post, from four years ago? Yeah. I’m having surgery for Christmas. Because a girl should treat herself once in awhile, don’t you think?

send. good. thoughts.

stupid uterus. it’s just like with my thyroid — broken. had to go. all broken parts must go, especially once they start torturing me. am being tortured by my own damn body. everyone i’ve talked with keeps saying “night and day.” “Afterward, it’s just like night and day, the difference. You will not regret it.”

but still, i feel like a dog who is about to be spayed. that is just a horrible thought, I need to get that thought out of my head. This has nothing to do with my female-ness. My qi. It will be okay. Giving up white sugar, white flour, stress, you know what? It wouldn’t change things. My body just grows strange growths, that’s all. It’s a little trick it likes to play. I have de-stressed a lot, but life just includes some stress. even a hermit in a cave somewhere has stress. (“Cold in here. Out of food. Damn. And I have cramps again. Damn.”) The cramps go with you wherever you go is the thing.

okay i have to go to work now. and my son is playing Wii-Fit Plus (which rocks, by the way — lots of new games, and you can customize the work-outs so you don’t have to start and stop all the time). It’s the woot-doot-doot-do-do-doot music that is making me a little distracted here. that, and surgery. at least we have insurance. stupid America.

love,

wm