Question of the day

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Why is so much of women’s underwear shaped so it wears like a V in the back? Seriously, whose butt is shaped like a V? And/or who is making underwear purposely designed to not cover your ass? I’m not even talking thongs here, people, or frilly lace deals, I’m talking regular ol’ cotton briefs. I used to get fantastic non-granny looking cotton underwear from Victoria’s Secret, and now I can’t find anything that is actually designed to CYA. Why is it sexy to have your ass hanging out of your underwear? What brain-dead scum-sucking genius thought THAT was a good idea? We have underwear hanging out of pants and asses hanging out of underwear. What is this world coming to? Have we all gone clothing dyslexic? Do we not understand proper layers of coverage?

I am not trying to seduce anyone in my everyday panties. I am not advocating for underwear that goes past my navel. I am just trying to wear something comfortable under my clothes, something with a logical, all-encompassing form to it, something that doesn’t scream “Ah, this one’s given up.” Grr.

Zombie Apocalypse Skills

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Tonight Max Brooks spoke at the uni about how to survive the zombie apocalypse, and my two office pod-mates and I went to go hear him, our copies of World War Z in our hot little hands. Max Brooks is hilarious! I don’t know when I’ve had such a good laugh for only ten bucks. Here are a few pointers on things you will need when the zombie pandemic starts:

  • water
  • some way to purify more water along the way (die from the zombie plague if you must, but not from diarrhea)
  • a bike, because they’re easy to fix and don’t need gas
  • a “melee” weapon: something probably handheld that does not need ammunition (try your local hardware store for inspiration)
  • a team of people to diversify your accessible survival skills
  • ability to live in a somewhat harsh environment to escape the hordes from the big cities

After the talk we waited about two hours in line to get our books signed. If he’d been a jerk it probably would have taken less time, but he talked to everyone and (much to the annoyance of one of my companions) took pictures with everyone who asked. When I got to the head of the line I gave my cell phone to my friends and told them just to snap some while he was signing my book (pics coming soon). I walked up to the table with my book open, and he asked who to make it out to. I said and spelled my name, and after writing “To Laura-” he looked up at me in my Turkish dress pants and red knitted scarf on my head and asked, “Are you Jewish or is this just what you’re wearing today?”

I laughed and said, “No, I’m Catholic.”

“Because you could totally pass for someone in my neighborhood.”

“No, this is just- I knit this,” gesturing to my head scarf, “so I’m just showing off my post-apocalyptic skill.”

“Ah! That’s good! You can use that.” Then he bent his head and finished the dedication in my book: To Laura, who actually has usable skills. 

I might not be so great at brilliant strategy or braining zombies, but I could garden, knit, sew, cook, start a fire, and ride a horse. I’d surely be an asset on SOMEBODY’s team for surviving the oncoming hordes of living dead. I just gotta find a guy with a machete…

Knitivity project

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In the interest of keeping busy post-breakup, I’ve decided to get started knitting potential Christmas gifts. I picked up a book called Knitivity, which has knitting patterns for little stuffed nativity characters. I saw it last winter after a book club meeting and just had to get it. Too cute.

So far I’ve knit the donkey and have come to the realization that I hate knitting flat and then seaming. My seams are worthy of Frankenstein. So now I’m starting on the generic people-body pattern (now that my flesh-colored yarn has arrived), and I’m trying to convert the pattern to something knit in the round. It’s a fun challenge, and the little toys are small enough that it only takes days instead of weeks to make one.

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Ill thrift

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Ill thrift is actually the veterinary term for what’s known in wee little humans as “failure to thrive,” wherein said living thing is not meeting expected standards of growth. I rather like the term “ill thrift.” It has a certain mysteriousness and old timey-ness to it. It’s much more exciting than saying something just didn’t grow as you expected it to. And sad to say, TDH’s and my relationship has finally succumbed to ill thrift.

It’s been months and months since things started feeling like we weren’t moving along on the right track or we weren’t a good fit, but I’ll be darned if I didn’t try and try again to give it more time to develop or try to find something that could be done to better things. There were several talks through these nine months trying to remedy things and several times I almost broke it off earlier. Not that I was unhappy here at the end, because I like hanging out with TDH, and he was overall a great boyfriend, but I did not feel really happy being with him, the way I think you should if you want to spend the rest of your life with someone. I didn’t want to write bad poetry, and I didn’t want to have his babies. I didn’t have his voice in my head, his name on my unconscious breath. We just could not manage to connect on a deep enough level. For all the years of grief Whatshisface put me through by how poorly he managed our breakup, and for all the disagreements and drama sean and I have had over the last decade plus, I at least know what kind of connectedness is possible between two people. Once you’ve had a deep connection with someone and know what’s out there to be had it’s just so hard to settle for merely existing side by side, even if it’s amicable. Even if the other party is fully satisfied and can’t see that anything is wrong. TDH was really happy, very satisfied… which I guess just shows how not on the same page we were.

Allow me a demonstration in pictures.

Sparkler Wedding w Savino

This is us in early February at his friend’s wedding. When he thinks of our relationship, he probably sees a picture like this.

Bluebonnet Camping '12 w Savino

This is us on a camping trip with a bunch of Catholic people in late April. I think this photo unintentionally captures how our relationship often was for me.

When I first saw the second picture (many moons ago) I almost felt embarrassed at how accurately it captured how it felt to be in this relationship. I mean, do we look happy to you? Do we even look like a couple? We are there together physically, but not engaged mentally or emotionally. We are at most sharing oxygen. And even though he appears to be looking at me, he’s sitting back a bit and he’s not going to approach, not going to pursue, maybe not even conscious of there being a significant lack of happiness. And me, I’m tired of struggling to make a connection and have pulled back into my own mind. We aren’t looking at each other, and we aren’t looking together at something else. We just happen to be sitting around in the same place.

Le sigh. Better now than when he proposes, right?

If you pray, spare a prayer for TDH. This end was certainly not what he wanted, and I wish more than believe that this is going to be an easy break for him.

Poem found between some grad school notes

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3-14-05

O my beloved
How inconstant is my love
And how I wish it were not so!
Your pure heart is to me
Like sunshine in Tift Park;
A bright breeze on Sunday afternoons,
like talk of porch swings,
like tomato plants, sweet tea,
and spaghetti on Wednesday night suppers.
“No, you ha-ha-ha” my heart.
And yet sometimes I forget
looking at the distance
between now and us together
why it is I’ve gotten so entangled.
O, but when I remember…
I wish I was as constant
as His love for us,
as your love for me.

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It’s just sitting there like this big dead end

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A few quotes rolling around in my head lately. I was on the train on my way to work sometime last week and it suddenly just hit me… “Holy frak, I’m 32!” And of course this is what popped into my head next:

Sally: No, no, no I drove him away, and I’m going to be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it’s there. It’s just sitting there like this big dead end.

And speaking of dead ends, I found out this week that Whatshisface is married. He got married in September. Cue the next WHMS quote.

You should never go to bed with anyone when you find out your boyfriend is getting married.

Okay, so sleeping with someone not really going to be an issue, but DEAR LORD the crap this revelation has drudged up. I know I should be a big, grown-up, mature person, but I really want to kick him in the shins, still, for a whole myriad of reasons. If I hadn’t given up drinking things other than water for Lent, I’d pour myself a good, stiff drink. Alas. In some ways, it feels like going through the break-up all over again, as the theme is the same: He’s happy without you. Ouch. Which brings us to the next quote:

…if you don’t grab him someone else will and you’ll have spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is married to your husband.

This is somewhat the theme of one of the last books I read: “Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough” by Lori Gottlieb. The author is 40-something and trying to fix her dating life, so she consults matchmakers and life/dating coaches and does interviews with people in happy marriages. The gist of her message is that sometimes people are picky about things that don’t really matter, and if you keep rejecting good guys because you’re looking for the perfect man you’ll end up with nothing. So find out what really matters, give people a chance, and give relationships time to develop “that feeling.” That’s the positive slant. The negative is this– basically, the older you get 1) the less selection there is and 2) the less other people want you. So in a nutshell, young women should learn not to be too picky when they’re younger and have a better selection, because if you don’t find someone you connect with when you’re young you will be left in a position where the only men who are interested in you are men 10-20 years older than you who are looking for someone with a viable uterus. Take that out of the picture and you’re pretty much screwed. Oh, and whoever else is out there to be had is almost guaranteed to be more boring and even less of what you want than the person you’re with now. You will experience diminishing returns.

RHETT: You know, I’m sorry for you, Scarlett.
SCARLETT: Sorry for me?
RHETT: Yes, sorry for you because you’re throwing away happiness with both hands. And reaching out for something that will never make you happy.

While you figure this out, the men you had relationships with before are getting married to women who have figured it all out quicker than you, so you have no chance to go back if you realize that at some point you made a mistake in not scooping someone up.

This is not good news for someone who makes crucial decisions with the lightning speed of a three-toed sloth. It just makes you feel like you suck at life. And to compound these mental issues, I think the honeymoon period with TDH is pretty much over, and we are entering a period labeled “Hard.” :(

I haven’t died, I just got a boyfriend

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…and apparently this takes up a lot of your time. Who knew? Well, probably people who have had a non-long-distance relationship. Things with my Italian Tall Dark and Handsome (here on in, TDH) are going well. I guess we’ve been dating almost three months now. It is sometimes quite an adjustment to actually be in a relationship. Man, I was just getting REALLY good at being single, too. Feeling all healthy and crap. Ain’t that the way things go?

Anyway, it is Fat Tuesday over here and I’m trying to put down in writing my commitments for Lent this year. So far I have decided on the following:

  • 1 hour of adoration per week (spiritual health)
  • abdominal workout 3x per week (physical health)
  • Vegan Fridays (to make Abstinence on Fridays more of a sacrifice)
  • giving up drinks other than water (personal sacrifice)

I also considered the following:

  • going all vegan
  • Vegan Wednesdays
  • giving up chocolate
  • giving up candy at work
  • situps every day (okay, this was TDH’s idea, not mine. Not because he thinks I’m fat, but because he’s doing a daily exercise one too.)
  • daily prayer with TDH (this just struck me during my shower- will have to propose it to TDH tomorrow, who almost fell asleep on the phone with me before aforementioned shower time.)
  • dumping my loose change collection into the Operation Rice Bowl box– this is a one-time thing, though, and not an ongoing sacrifice. I rarely use cash and don’t accumulate a lot.

I didn’t want to take on too much. Gotta ease my way back into these things. I hardly did anything last year, what with being stuck in a Muslim country where I couldn’t get to a church without a 4 hour bus ride (one-way) to a strange city. It was hard to get in the spirit when my whole professional life over there seemed like a daily penance. (Perhaps I exaggerate a bit. Maybe just most of it, not all of it.) And in the name of emotional health, I think giving up the chocolate and candy at work could actually be detrimental to me. ;)