Archive for February, 2010

My jumbled brain

Things I’m looking forward to:

1a.       Finding out Floppy’s gender (one week away!)

1b.       Spring/warm weather

2.         Green grass

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Or, if I’m truly honest, I should rename that list: “Things I am waiting for so impatiently that each day crawls by like Christmas Eve for an ADD kid.”

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Have you seen Marley and Me? There’s a part right around the middle of the movie where the main guy character (Owen Wilson) lists things he and his wife have been experiencing. I’ve grabbed the quote and pasted it below.

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Since it’s so long, I’ll just say my piece first and then sign off: this quote is what my brain has felt like recently, and it’s been kind of nice and kind of overwhelming and kind of entertaining/amusing. There are lots of things running through my mind, lots of things to plan, decide, think about. Lots of things to forget. Lots of things to worry about, pray about, wonder about… The list continues… and so I bring you the quote:

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Woke up to a kiss from Marley. Went for a walk that turned into a run.

Took an airboat ride. Wrote a column about the death of the Everglades.

Planted an orange tree in the backyard.

Threw sticks for Marley in the park. Watched him swim in the bay. Watched him steal some guy’s Frisbee. Bought a new Frisbee for the guy.

Gave Marley a bath.

Went to work with writers’ block. Hoped for inspiration to strike.



Got a new shirt.

Got a new keyboard.

Got the same old paycheck.

Went wind surfing with Sebastian.

Met his new girlfriend Sasha.

Met his other new girlfriend Angie.

Watched models posing in the surf.

Wrote a column about the growth of South Beach.

Interviewed Gloria and Emilio Estefan at the Cordozo Hotel.

Introduced them to Jenny, who gushed like a teenager.

Went shopping at the mall.

Bought a Sharper Image pillow.

Slept like a baby.

Caught Marley eating the pillow.

Hid the evidence from Jenny.

Cleaned up Marley’s vomit in the kitchen.

Helped Jenny make dinner.

Overcooked the spaghetti. Got into a food fight.

Proofread Jenny’s column.

Read Sebastian’s latest opus.

Went running with Marley to burn off frustration. Didn’t see him chew through the leash.

Chased him 15 blocks. Had to call Jenny for a ride.

Wrote a column about gas prices.

Wrote a column about water prices.

Found one tiny orange on our tree.

Jenny very pleased with herself.

Found my first gray hair. Found Jenny’s first gray hair.

Bought Jenny flowers.

Rescued our new mailman from Marley. Rescued a U.P.S. Guy from Marley.

Invited my parents to visit. Took them out to dinner at a cool place on South Beach.

Got into a fight with Dad over the check.

Got into a fight with Dad about money. 

Got into a fight with Jenny about all the fighting. 

Drove my parents to the airport. Listened to them complain about not having grandchildren.

Tracked a hurricane heading for south Florida.

Hid in the bathroom during the hurricane.

Sat in the dark for three days.

Wrote a column about looters.

Wrote a column about volunteers.

Wrote a column about the beauty of air conditioning.

Watched Marley dig for buried treasure.

Spent Christmas with Jen’s sister and her family in Orlando.

Left Marley at their house to go to Disney World. Had to buy ’em new baby furniture.

Saw Jen light up around the little girls.

Got a flat driving home.

Wrote a column about state troopers.

Wrote a column about toll booths.

Went to dinner to celebrate Jenny’s raise.

Tied Marley to the table.

Chased Marley and the table.

Caught the table.

Wrote a column about Marley pulling the table.

Tried to write a column about anything but Marley.



Picked oranges from our tree.

Made orange juice.

Drove down to Miami for Bark in the Park Night at the Marlins game.

Brought Marley, who turned out to be a real baseball fan.

Tried to stop him from chasing a foul ball in the stands.

Tried to stop him from chasing a foul ball on the field.

Wrote a column about the ball game.

Took crap from Sebastian about it.

Met his new girlfriend.

Can’t remember her name.

Went snorkeling with them. Cut my leg on a piece of coral.

Went to the emergency room.

Wrote a column about hospitals.

Went to an Easter egg hunt at Jenny’s boss’s house in Boca.

Drank mimosas.

Met a doctor who does three liposuctions a day.

Wrote a column about nannies in Boca.

Wrote a column about the women of Boca.

Wrote a column about writing columns.

Came home to find Jenny dancing with Marley.

Tried to think of reasons not to have a baby now.



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I must be part feline. It seems the only way to properly explain my feelings of people touching my stomach.

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Cats don’t like being rubbed or touched on their bellies. You know a cat trusts you if he/she rolls on its back and extends the belly for some rubbing action. That’s love.

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So, when I say I don’t like/want people touching my pregnant belly, I feel cat-like. It feels very private for someone to touch my stomach, and I don’t like it. So when random people try to do it, I kind of want to claw their eyes out, cat style.

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I wondered aloud yesterday whether I might feel differently once my stomach is much larger, and therefore further away from the rest of my body. Will it feel more separate? Because right now, it’s only about 3 inches north and south of two no-no zones, and that’s too close for comfort.

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It’s a vulnerable thing, having this belly sticking out for all to see/stare/gape/ooh/ah/coo and, gasp(!), touch. Blech.

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This stomach? Mine. You didn’t touch it before. So don’t touch it now. Or I might hiss. Or scratch. Or bite. And that would be SO unladylike. So please don’t force me to do it. Hands off, world!