I am feeling better today. I am not going to read the first section of the newspaper, & I might just ban the talk radio for a while, after hearing about a toboganning incident between a 12 year old & a 6 year old. However. PBS is still good.
.
Why is PBS good? Well, without it, who knows when I would have heard about the Bohs-Einstein Condensate. It's a fourth form of matter that is former at extremely cold temperatures - we're talking waaaaaaaaay past freezing your tongue to a flagpole.
.
Colder than deepest darkest outer space, actually.
.
Anyways, in a nutshell, skipping some physics gobbeldygook, if certain gases are cooled to almost absolute zero, their atoms become so still & spread out that they overlap. They essentially become one - and what happens to one atom, happens to them all. It's like nirvana in a physics lab.
.
No, not the guys in the lab coats are not listening to Kurt Cobain. Jeez. I'm going to go & get my girl up & we can meditate together. Well, she'll probably have a bottle, but I can try to meditate.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The first section of the paper.
This isn’t a typical, funny, fluffy post. FYI.
.
I hardly ever read the first section of the newspaper. The man heckles me over it, mocking my head-in-the-sand policy, but I just find most of it too upsetting. I found I was especially sensitive while I was pregnant, & renounced the paper as a whole & only read the science & book review sections of the Economist. (Really, the most interesting parts of the Economist. I briefly tried to dredge through reading the whole thing - political & economical junk as well as the interesting new discoveries in tit-mouse reproduction, & the review of the autobiography of the noodle king of China. I read it on the train, & I found that when I got to work, I felt no smarter, could remember none of the thrilling information about the umm… thrilling stuff, and I was groggy from trying so hard to stay awake through it all.)
.
When Amoryn was uh… I’m not sure how old, I realized that I was completely insulated from current events. I enjoyed this for a while, then one day, as I wondered “What stock market crash?” I decided that maybe I should keep up just a little bit. The tactic I chose was to read the verb in each article’s title, & judge from there. It’s pretty effective; you can dodge upsetting or boring things like “Kills”, “Attack”, “Spending”, etc. I also tend to read the little blurbs down the sides – if it’s only a paragraph of info, I can usually deal with it. I usually skim pretty heavily, and if the article is interesting, then I’ll read the whole thing at length. If it’s not, I’ve only wasted a little bit of time & virtually no precious brain power on it. (Yes dear man, I can hear you: “But if you don’t know what’s happening, & you don’t like it, how can you change it?”)
.
I had read a while back of a mother who was freed from wrongful imprisonment for the death of her daughter. The forensic pathologist who did the autopsy & testified is being inquested*. Today I skimmed a further article about this doctor, & the inquest. I wasn’t expecting anything to jarring or new; it’s just one of the things that I recall, because it resonates – how awful for a mother to loose her 21 month old child, and then to have it compounded by being wrongfully convicted in her death, due to the pathologist’s mistakes!** I suppose I was hoping to hear that he receives some punishment that will make things equal, no matter how unlikely that really is.
.
What I wasn’t expecting was to read something that would jar me completely. “A 14-year-old boy who had been babysitting Jenna the night of her death later admitted to an undercover officer that he had killed Jenna. He pleaded guilty to manslaughter last year and is now serving a 22-month youth sentence.” That, coupled with the previous paragraph “Re-examinations of Jenna's file indicate she died of internal bleeding caused by a blow to her abdomen, as Dr. Smith concluded, but that her injuries also included bruising and abrasion to her genitals and anus.”
.
A 14-year old boy. A babysitter. Killed the baby. And now is serving 22 months? Which is ONE MONTH more than the baby had ever been alive? And the 21 month old had been what? And what? And what? This is where my brain essentially shut down completely. This is where I want to never, ever go to work, never leave Amoryn alone with another individual, never ever use a babysitter. Never. She can be home-schooled too. The man & I don’t need to go anywhere without her. Ever. I know it’s all irrational, and it will fade in a day or two, but today, Amoryn gets lots of extra hugs & smooshes.
.
It really disturbs me when I hear of any abuse or sexual assault against children, especially babies. It throws a rock in my pond, and I’m left wondering how a person could ever do such a thing, how a baby, a child could ever be viewed in that sexual way. I really don’t care what people do for their kicks, as long as they’re doing it with other consenting adults. Straight? Okay. Gay? Sure. Like dressing up in mohair animal costumes? I don’t get it, but whatever.
.
I feel tainted by even hearing about any child abuse cases, because inevitably, as I’m bathing or changing my girl, I will find myself wondering how on earth anyone could do such things to babies, and how I can protect her. It also brings up memories – the ex in Moose Jaw who was a pedophile that I turned in to the police. The months I spent not really sleeping or eating, trying to deal with everything. Some of the things the ex told me – things that happened to him as a child. Things that he did as a youth, to other children. The images that I found on his computer that started it all off. All that messy, unpleasant craziness. It’s awful. As one counselor told me “It’s okay to feel sympathy if the dog was kicked as a puppy. But that doesn’t change the dog being rabid now.” What about all the children out there being bit by the rabid dogs?
.
It makes me brood. Sometimes it makes me cry in anger & sorrow. And I don’t want to be a weeping, brooding, overprotective mother. But really, when I read the paper, how can I not be? Where is the solution here? How I control the world so my baby, all babies are protected? What is the answer? Have I benefited anything by reading today’s paper?
.
The only answer I have is that no, the paper did me no good today. I was already aware that the world contains pedophiles & abusers & liars & cheats. I guess all I can do is try to be a protective, smart mother, who doesn’t stifle her child, or leave her open & available to any kind of abuse. It’s tough as someone dealing with this all in a hypothetical way; I can’t imagine trying to survive any of the abuse.
.
.
This is today’s article, if you’re interested; there are links to other articles in the case at the bottom of it. It’s not something I’m going to recommend or suggest; it’s just there if you’re curious as to what set me off.
http://www.nationalpost.com/todays_paper/story.html?id=241805
.
.
I hardly ever read the first section of the newspaper. The man heckles me over it, mocking my head-in-the-sand policy, but I just find most of it too upsetting. I found I was especially sensitive while I was pregnant, & renounced the paper as a whole & only read the science & book review sections of the Economist. (Really, the most interesting parts of the Economist. I briefly tried to dredge through reading the whole thing - political & economical junk as well as the interesting new discoveries in tit-mouse reproduction, & the review of the autobiography of the noodle king of China. I read it on the train, & I found that when I got to work, I felt no smarter, could remember none of the thrilling information about the umm… thrilling stuff, and I was groggy from trying so hard to stay awake through it all.)
.
When Amoryn was uh… I’m not sure how old, I realized that I was completely insulated from current events. I enjoyed this for a while, then one day, as I wondered “What stock market crash?” I decided that maybe I should keep up just a little bit. The tactic I chose was to read the verb in each article’s title, & judge from there. It’s pretty effective; you can dodge upsetting or boring things like “Kills”, “Attack”, “Spending”, etc. I also tend to read the little blurbs down the sides – if it’s only a paragraph of info, I can usually deal with it. I usually skim pretty heavily, and if the article is interesting, then I’ll read the whole thing at length. If it’s not, I’ve only wasted a little bit of time & virtually no precious brain power on it. (Yes dear man, I can hear you: “But if you don’t know what’s happening, & you don’t like it, how can you change it?”)
.
I had read a while back of a mother who was freed from wrongful imprisonment for the death of her daughter. The forensic pathologist who did the autopsy & testified is being inquested*. Today I skimmed a further article about this doctor, & the inquest. I wasn’t expecting anything to jarring or new; it’s just one of the things that I recall, because it resonates – how awful for a mother to loose her 21 month old child, and then to have it compounded by being wrongfully convicted in her death, due to the pathologist’s mistakes!** I suppose I was hoping to hear that he receives some punishment that will make things equal, no matter how unlikely that really is.
.
What I wasn’t expecting was to read something that would jar me completely. “A 14-year-old boy who had been babysitting Jenna the night of her death later admitted to an undercover officer that he had killed Jenna. He pleaded guilty to manslaughter last year and is now serving a 22-month youth sentence.” That, coupled with the previous paragraph “Re-examinations of Jenna's file indicate she died of internal bleeding caused by a blow to her abdomen, as Dr. Smith concluded, but that her injuries also included bruising and abrasion to her genitals and anus.”
.
A 14-year old boy. A babysitter. Killed the baby. And now is serving 22 months? Which is ONE MONTH more than the baby had ever been alive? And the 21 month old had been what? And what? And what? This is where my brain essentially shut down completely. This is where I want to never, ever go to work, never leave Amoryn alone with another individual, never ever use a babysitter. Never. She can be home-schooled too. The man & I don’t need to go anywhere without her. Ever. I know it’s all irrational, and it will fade in a day or two, but today, Amoryn gets lots of extra hugs & smooshes.
.
It really disturbs me when I hear of any abuse or sexual assault against children, especially babies. It throws a rock in my pond, and I’m left wondering how a person could ever do such a thing, how a baby, a child could ever be viewed in that sexual way. I really don’t care what people do for their kicks, as long as they’re doing it with other consenting adults. Straight? Okay. Gay? Sure. Like dressing up in mohair animal costumes? I don’t get it, but whatever.
.
I feel tainted by even hearing about any child abuse cases, because inevitably, as I’m bathing or changing my girl, I will find myself wondering how on earth anyone could do such things to babies, and how I can protect her. It also brings up memories – the ex in Moose Jaw who was a pedophile that I turned in to the police. The months I spent not really sleeping or eating, trying to deal with everything. Some of the things the ex told me – things that happened to him as a child. Things that he did as a youth, to other children. The images that I found on his computer that started it all off. All that messy, unpleasant craziness. It’s awful. As one counselor told me “It’s okay to feel sympathy if the dog was kicked as a puppy. But that doesn’t change the dog being rabid now.” What about all the children out there being bit by the rabid dogs?
.
It makes me brood. Sometimes it makes me cry in anger & sorrow. And I don’t want to be a weeping, brooding, overprotective mother. But really, when I read the paper, how can I not be? Where is the solution here? How I control the world so my baby, all babies are protected? What is the answer? Have I benefited anything by reading today’s paper?
.
The only answer I have is that no, the paper did me no good today. I was already aware that the world contains pedophiles & abusers & liars & cheats. I guess all I can do is try to be a protective, smart mother, who doesn’t stifle her child, or leave her open & available to any kind of abuse. It’s tough as someone dealing with this all in a hypothetical way; I can’t imagine trying to survive any of the abuse.
.
.
This is today’s article, if you’re interested; there are links to other articles in the case at the bottom of it. It’s not something I’m going to recommend or suggest; it’s just there if you’re curious as to what set me off.
http://www.nationalpost.com/todays_paper/story.html?id=241805
.
Time to go & wake the girl; morning naptime is over.
.
.
.
*As far as I recall, & if I can actually use “inquested” in a sentence.
.
**The initial blurb mentioned nothing of the suspected child abuse; only the wrongful imprisonment. As I read more, I learn that perhaps it was understandable that the mother be accused; but I still have that first emotional impact coloring my reading.
*As far as I recall, & if I can actually use “inquested” in a sentence.
.
**The initial blurb mentioned nothing of the suspected child abuse; only the wrongful imprisonment. As I read more, I learn that perhaps it was understandable that the mother be accused; but I still have that first emotional impact coloring my reading.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Like a chorus of angels, but with Lycra.
Sooooo.... I went to the mall last night. I was feeling pretty darn groovy, as a) I had parked the girl with the man, b) I had Sar & Coreen with me (or rather, Coreen had us, as she was driving), & c) I had just booked the family a cheap Cheap CHEAP direct flight to Nassau in April. Oh yeah, we're going to the Bahamas for my daughter's birthday. How oil-trash nouveau-riche do we sound? Anyways. I was hitting the mall to 1) return jeans & 2) try some jeans on with a proper audience.
.
In the change room: "Interesting.... not sure about the front pockets... turn around." I complied. "No! Bad butt! Bad butt! No!" "Oh thank god," I said, "Honesty. I knew I was right to be skeptical of the commission sales-girls."
.
As I was walking down the mall, I was hit but a sudden shock of horror. Literally. I don't think I'd ever had one of those before. Sudden. Shock. Of Horror. Yup. I need a new swimsuit. Gyarrrrrgh... my last “new” swimsuit is actually Sarah's swimsuit that she bought for $10 at the Army & Navy in Edmonton.* It’s cute, but it's old... and getting that translucent butt-wear thing that swimsuits get. Ladies, I know you know what I mean. Men, are you reading this? Really? Wow. Well, don't worry your manly heads, it's endemic to Lycra swimwear. (If you wear Speedos, then you know what I mean.)
.
Realizing my shock of horror, I immediately threw myself on Sarah & Coreen’s mercy. “Okay! Let’s go swimsuit shop.” I thought it was best to get it over with – quick band aid rip style. It wasn’t until I was in the dressing room, struggling into the first of the bikinis that Sar helped to pick out, that I realized… I was wearing comfy underwear. Big, cute, comfy underwear. At least, they were cute by themselves or with a t-shirt to sleep in while camping. But hanging out over the swim bottoms? A little ugly… A lot ugly.
.
I persevered. Sarah gladly fumbled through millions of swimsuits for me, & Coreen sat in the fitting room area, & was the voice of reason to Sarah’s “Hey! It’s got stripes AND polka dots! How cute is that?” It wasn’t even that demoralizing- the ugly underwear, stuffed not-so-subtly into the swim togs, let me externalize my natural swim-wear anxiety on to them. Good sports, those knickers. I was a good sport, too, & tried everything on. Coreen & Sarah were incredibly sporting, by putting up with & encouraging the whole deal.
.
Weirdly enough, I found two swimsuits that I liked. I liked them enough to buy them both – after Sarah & Coreen both said “Buy them both – you’re gone for 10 days, when did you last buy a swimsuit, prorate them over five years.” I realized they were right, & did so.
.
No, you don’t get to see pictures – you'll have to wait for holiday pics. They’re cool though – one is a retro-50’s-ish bikini – black top & bottoms, with a wide red polka dot belt. The other is a black bikini with a lighter snake-print trim, & make me think of the booty girls in the music videos. Not that I’m built like a booty girl, or can even move like one, or anything. I think it’s the snake-print that does it.
.
The man is plagued & opted for the out I gave him – namely – I will try them on for him this weekend, when he is feeling better, & can muster the appropriate lustful response.
.Hmm… lacking an appropriate segue, may I insert here my list of things to do today: I) vacuum II) bank app’t III) grocery shop IV) make supper, after deciding WHAT to make for supper. I’m frankly out of ideas. Even if I listen to my instincts & eat the rest of the bag of Oreos, I still have to feed the man & Amoryn something….
.
(Incidentally, I am INCREDIBLY excited about our vacation! So excited! I'm really just burbling incoherently & waving my arms, which is why the bulk of this post has been about the swimsuits, which are cool, yeah, and easier to articulate, but eee!! Bahamas! International tax-haven, here we come!)
.
.
*She had fortuitously packed two swimsuits because I had neglected to pack ANY when we went to the Middle East. I also didn’t pack any bras. Let me tell you, bra shopping in Syria, she is a strange, strange thing.*
.
**I’m a much better traveler now. Honest. I can even make it to Ikea without locking Amoryn in the car.***
.
*** Although I did lock her in the jeep the other night. But the jeep was off, & in the garage, & the spare key was to hand. Easy mistake to make. Easy mistake to fix.****
.
****Hard mistake to believe or forget, if you’re my husband.
.
In the change room: "Interesting.... not sure about the front pockets... turn around." I complied. "No! Bad butt! Bad butt! No!" "Oh thank god," I said, "Honesty. I knew I was right to be skeptical of the commission sales-girls."
.
As I was walking down the mall, I was hit but a sudden shock of horror. Literally. I don't think I'd ever had one of those before. Sudden. Shock. Of Horror. Yup. I need a new swimsuit. Gyarrrrrgh... my last “new” swimsuit is actually Sarah's swimsuit that she bought for $10 at the Army & Navy in Edmonton.* It’s cute, but it's old... and getting that translucent butt-wear thing that swimsuits get. Ladies, I know you know what I mean. Men, are you reading this? Really? Wow. Well, don't worry your manly heads, it's endemic to Lycra swimwear. (If you wear Speedos, then you know what I mean.)
.
Realizing my shock of horror, I immediately threw myself on Sarah & Coreen’s mercy. “Okay! Let’s go swimsuit shop.” I thought it was best to get it over with – quick band aid rip style. It wasn’t until I was in the dressing room, struggling into the first of the bikinis that Sar helped to pick out, that I realized… I was wearing comfy underwear. Big, cute, comfy underwear. At least, they were cute by themselves or with a t-shirt to sleep in while camping. But hanging out over the swim bottoms? A little ugly… A lot ugly.
.
I persevered. Sarah gladly fumbled through millions of swimsuits for me, & Coreen sat in the fitting room area, & was the voice of reason to Sarah’s “Hey! It’s got stripes AND polka dots! How cute is that?” It wasn’t even that demoralizing- the ugly underwear, stuffed not-so-subtly into the swim togs, let me externalize my natural swim-wear anxiety on to them. Good sports, those knickers. I was a good sport, too, & tried everything on. Coreen & Sarah were incredibly sporting, by putting up with & encouraging the whole deal.
.
Weirdly enough, I found two swimsuits that I liked. I liked them enough to buy them both – after Sarah & Coreen both said “Buy them both – you’re gone for 10 days, when did you last buy a swimsuit, prorate them over five years.” I realized they were right, & did so.
.
No, you don’t get to see pictures – you'll have to wait for holiday pics. They’re cool though – one is a retro-50’s-ish bikini – black top & bottoms, with a wide red polka dot belt. The other is a black bikini with a lighter snake-print trim, & make me think of the booty girls in the music videos. Not that I’m built like a booty girl, or can even move like one, or anything. I think it’s the snake-print that does it.
.
The man is plagued & opted for the out I gave him – namely – I will try them on for him this weekend, when he is feeling better, & can muster the appropriate lustful response.
.Hmm… lacking an appropriate segue, may I insert here my list of things to do today: I) vacuum II) bank app’t III) grocery shop IV) make supper, after deciding WHAT to make for supper. I’m frankly out of ideas. Even if I listen to my instincts & eat the rest of the bag of Oreos, I still have to feed the man & Amoryn something….
.
(Incidentally, I am INCREDIBLY excited about our vacation! So excited! I'm really just burbling incoherently & waving my arms, which is why the bulk of this post has been about the swimsuits, which are cool, yeah, and easier to articulate, but eee!! Bahamas! International tax-haven, here we come!)
.
.
*She had fortuitously packed two swimsuits because I had neglected to pack ANY when we went to the Middle East. I also didn’t pack any bras. Let me tell you, bra shopping in Syria, she is a strange, strange thing.*
.
**I’m a much better traveler now. Honest. I can even make it to Ikea without locking Amoryn in the car.***
.
*** Although I did lock her in the jeep the other night. But the jeep was off, & in the garage, & the spare key was to hand. Easy mistake to make. Easy mistake to fix.****
.
****Hard mistake to believe or forget, if you’re my husband.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Dun, dun-dun, done!
A whole bunch (well, three pages) of new pics up on Flickr!
Clearly unimpressed with a prairie winter.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Oh, the mall, the mall…
I just watched a 20 minute thingy called “The Story of Stuff” (watch it here http://www.storyofstuff.com/ ). It was very interesting, and all mostly things I knew, but things that I don’t usually think about in that particular order, or even particularly often. You should maybe watch it if you have been mulling your consumption of things, or you feel consumed by your things, or if you want to reinforce your re-using & recycling. If the mall is your happy place, maybe not so much.
.
I try not to consume too needlessly… I believe that I’m not shopping to fill some greater void in my life… I think my shopping excesses are mostly driven by my inner crow (ooo… that’s SHINY… we likes it…we wants it…). The man & I were just having the post Xmas discussion about how much stuff we seem to keep buying, & do we really need it? Really really? In some cases (bigger clothes for Amoryn), yes we do. In some cases (new ipods or tv’s), no we don’t. Some cases are arguable – for example: new pants for me. I have one pair of work pants that fit me & that I feel good in. At what point do I balance my desire to have pants that fit me & make me feel good against my budget, my actual need for work pants, and my wariness of consuming for the sake of consumption?
.
This is why I often buy things, take them home, & then return them. It’s hard to take all of those points into consideration when you’ve been looking for some damn pants that don’t give you muffin top & the baby is getting fussy & the mall music is too loud & can I get some decent service here? It’s not that I’m having underlying ego issues about whether I deserve new things. It’s not guilt over spending. It’s not consumption-bulimia. It’s plain old being overwhelmed by stimuli, and using the system (I can buy this & return it up to 30 days later, no problem?) to avoid the system (naaaaaaasty dressing room mirrors). As well, I can’t always shop with my girls, for their informed opinion on important things such as: how does my ass really look in these?
.
Which brings me to jeans… Yes, I am going to return those jeans. The waist is too high. I was rethinking what I really want from a new pair of jeans (dark wash, no pre-fading, wide legged, not super high waisted), trying to decide if I was looking for too much from a single item. Am I investing some kind of secret emotional agenda on these pants? Am I attaching too many things to these? Is there really some insecurity I want these pants to cover up? (The mall, it really kicked my butt on the jean hunt, it did.).
.
No, I want dark pants so that I can wear them to the office. I want wide legs because I like the silhouette and they’re comfortable. Ditto the waist. I want jeans, not dress pants, for the comfort, durability, & washablilty. I think I’m just feeling beleaguered because I’m NOT going to spend more than $120 MAX on jeans and what I want is not what anybody else anywhere seems to be making or buying. (I walked into one jean store – and I swear to god – there was the “$125 jean SALE” rack. As in, look, amazing, only $125!!! As opposed to $250+!) I’m even willing to flex on one point – I could like with a little fading, or I could live with a different cut, but there was nothing! Nothing!
.
So you know what this means. This means… I start eyeing up my sewing machines. Genghis & Lil, how are you two feeling? Should I take you in for your yearly tune-up, & exchange my not-right jeans for some dark-wash denim material? Or make cords out of material that I already have? Hmmm?
.
It certainly would tie nicely into the documentary about the Stuff, at any rate.
.
PS: I love the g-diapers, but I think I need to try the medium size - Miss Amoryn is right between sizes, so I opted larger, because that works better for disposables, but not so much for these, apparently. The man figures we should just wait & keep using disposables, but I'm keen! I'm focused! I'm eager! I know I'm still consuming, but it's in the name of less consumption.... gosh, this is all so confusing. I'm going to go & knit something to clear my mind.
.
I try not to consume too needlessly… I believe that I’m not shopping to fill some greater void in my life… I think my shopping excesses are mostly driven by my inner crow (ooo… that’s SHINY… we likes it…we wants it…). The man & I were just having the post Xmas discussion about how much stuff we seem to keep buying, & do we really need it? Really really? In some cases (bigger clothes for Amoryn), yes we do. In some cases (new ipods or tv’s), no we don’t. Some cases are arguable – for example: new pants for me. I have one pair of work pants that fit me & that I feel good in. At what point do I balance my desire to have pants that fit me & make me feel good against my budget, my actual need for work pants, and my wariness of consuming for the sake of consumption?
.
This is why I often buy things, take them home, & then return them. It’s hard to take all of those points into consideration when you’ve been looking for some damn pants that don’t give you muffin top & the baby is getting fussy & the mall music is too loud & can I get some decent service here? It’s not that I’m having underlying ego issues about whether I deserve new things. It’s not guilt over spending. It’s not consumption-bulimia. It’s plain old being overwhelmed by stimuli, and using the system (I can buy this & return it up to 30 days later, no problem?) to avoid the system (naaaaaaasty dressing room mirrors). As well, I can’t always shop with my girls, for their informed opinion on important things such as: how does my ass really look in these?
.
Which brings me to jeans… Yes, I am going to return those jeans. The waist is too high. I was rethinking what I really want from a new pair of jeans (dark wash, no pre-fading, wide legged, not super high waisted), trying to decide if I was looking for too much from a single item. Am I investing some kind of secret emotional agenda on these pants? Am I attaching too many things to these? Is there really some insecurity I want these pants to cover up? (The mall, it really kicked my butt on the jean hunt, it did.).
.
No, I want dark pants so that I can wear them to the office. I want wide legs because I like the silhouette and they’re comfortable. Ditto the waist. I want jeans, not dress pants, for the comfort, durability, & washablilty. I think I’m just feeling beleaguered because I’m NOT going to spend more than $120 MAX on jeans and what I want is not what anybody else anywhere seems to be making or buying. (I walked into one jean store – and I swear to god – there was the “$125 jean SALE” rack. As in, look, amazing, only $125!!! As opposed to $250+!) I’m even willing to flex on one point – I could like with a little fading, or I could live with a different cut, but there was nothing! Nothing!
.
So you know what this means. This means… I start eyeing up my sewing machines. Genghis & Lil, how are you two feeling? Should I take you in for your yearly tune-up, & exchange my not-right jeans for some dark-wash denim material? Or make cords out of material that I already have? Hmmm?
.
It certainly would tie nicely into the documentary about the Stuff, at any rate.
.
PS: I love the g-diapers, but I think I need to try the medium size - Miss Amoryn is right between sizes, so I opted larger, because that works better for disposables, but not so much for these, apparently. The man figures we should just wait & keep using disposables, but I'm keen! I'm focused! I'm eager! I know I'm still consuming, but it's in the name of less consumption.... gosh, this is all so confusing. I'm going to go & knit something to clear my mind.
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