Thirty Voices

plus equals better times.

Thought I should pass it on!

Not Goth, 34, Redondo Beach.

My son is old enough now to produce some art–on paper, on our walls, and anywhere else he thinks he can get away with it. It’s mostly just scribbling at this point, but recently I bought him a crayon carousel and we’ve been coloring and drawing a lot. We also play with a Doodlepad, and he just took an art class at Gymboree where we got all dirty with orange paint. And then it hit me–somewhere along the way, I totally forgot how much I liked doing that sort of thing. Working with crayons and paints, sewing, cross-stitching, scrapbooking. I don’t have any time for arts and crafts. Life just keeps getting in the way. (more…)

Last week, after almost 4 years of marriage, the dreadfully charming Mr. Right and I stood before a judge in Seattle District Court after listening to small-claims-”this woman harrassed me”-hell for over an hour (but that’s a whole ‘nother story) and had our names officially changed. I tacked on his last name as my last name and he took my last name as his second middle name. Hm, that’s confusing. To make things clear, now our names are something like this:

Dreadfully Charming Mr. Right becomes: Dreadfully Charming Cawrse Right
Janna Marie Cawrse becomes: Janna Marie Cawrse Right
And kiddo is: Bungleofjoy Cawrse Right

It’s an unusual solution to a humdinger dilemma. And we’re still trying to figure out the details.

On the bright side, here’s what I love about our new names: (more…)

Pregnancy can be a very trying business. Your body feels like its one big science project. Every day brings some new wierdness or challenge. I won’t give details here (although please feel free to refer to my previous posts for some illustration) because I don’t want to scare those of you who are yet to embark on this biological rollercoaster. Suffice to say it can be quite tough to deal with at times despite the joy that also goes with it. You’d think that the last thing that friends, relatives and indeed complete strangers and the government would want to do is make things more difficult for you. But they do – and how.

It’s often the case that’s the strongest opinions on how you conduct yourself whilst incubating the next generation are proferred by those who have yet to become parents. Take for example the following comment directed at me by the man who unfortunately looks like he’s likely to marry my sister in law. As said sister in law and her intended arrived home for the weekend my very lovely father in law was doling out the gin and tonics and, at my request, had given me a glass of tonic water only accompanied by the usual ice and slice. When blokey saw my drink he immediately greeted me not with the traditional “Hello, how are you?” but with a “I hope there’s not gin in that.” Sadly he wasn’t kidding around. It took every ounce of self discipline I had not to respond with “Hell yeah, its my fourth. I’m just nipping out for a fag actually would you like to join me?” Because I love my husband dearly I avoided creating a scene but I’m sure you can see why I was tempted. (more…)

People who know me well know that I’m not much of a “girly-girl”. I can get up, have a shower, get dressed, eat cereal and be out the door in 30 minutes, sometimes 20 minutes if I oversleep. I only get haircuts that can be combed and will dry on the train and not look too terrible (thank goodness I don’t live in Detroit anymore so I don’t have to worry about walking into work with icicles in my hair!).

Last weekend I had a few girly moments – I found that dress that fit perfectly and wore a dress for the 1st time in months and that pair of pants that was perfect. Maybe it’s just quitting my job and starting a new one in a few weeks but it felt nice to have the occasional girly moment…

Melissa, 35, Sydney

I’m the daughter of a crafty lady. A lady so crafty that when I was a child and both my parents had CB’s in their cars, my mother’s handle was “Crafty Lady.” To this day I can hear my father’s voice coming out the speaker as my mother drove out of the dance class parking lot, “Crafty Lady, Crafty Lady – this is Long Shot – got a copy?” And my mother would grab the speaker module and say, “This is Crafty Lady – go ahead…” And my father would say, “This is Long Shot – did you get the daughter picked up from class? Come back.” And with a flick of her finger my mother would press the button and reply, “Indeed, I’ve got the daughter and we’re headed home…”

At any rate, I inherited almost no skills from this crafty lady. She’d try and teach me to do a hundred different crafts in an attempt to find just one I was good at…all to no avail….but then early last year I discovered this great book, “Subversive Cross Stitch” and just like that, I’d found my niche. Something that not only was I good at, but something I enjoyed. So today I present one of my favorites:

This is Sage, 31, aka Daughter of Crafty Lady in Iowa. Got a copy?

This past week, while riding the bus, I witnessed two separate sets of kids being escorted after school by their guardians/parent. The first set of kids, aged five or so, each had in her hand, pastries she’d half-devoured. The little brunette, with large, blue elfish eyes, had a half-eaten chocolate glaze dusted in nutty bits, and her friend, the small blonde, ate her raspberry jam cream cake, covering her chin and cheeks with whipped cream.

Something instinctual within me curled my upper lip when I saw each child sidle into her seat, and eat away at the adult-sized pastry. Kids and drippy sweet things offend my idea of cleanliness and hence I recoil in horror. It’s not the child’s fault, and having never been a parent, I reflected on how little concern and consideration the adult escorting them had given, especially with the way these kids were eating in a public space. It also caused me to wonder at the level of indulgence the adult gave to these two little girls: the sugar intake of just one of those cakes on her pint-sized system would be enough to send the girl over the moon and come crashing down again. Not to mention setting a standard of gluttony for her later (fat-inducing) years. The whole public space situation drives me nuts, especially after I watched the little blonde vigorously wipe both hands, palms-down on her dress and all over the fabric of the bus seats in an attempt to rid the sugar and cream from between her fingers once she’d finished eating. I felt sorry for whomever’s clothes sitting down next. The parent never said a word about that, but instead reached over to unevenly wipe the child’s face with a small, rumpled piece of napkin. No baby wipes, no disinfectant, nothing. Only a positive compliment for having consumed a sweet pastry that added nothing to the child’s nutritional value. (more…)

A year after I donated my left kidney to my dad, I was convinced by coworkers that I HAD to join them in an insane effort. We joined the AIDS Marathon training program which is a 6 month training program which allows you to learn how to run a marathon while raising money for a worthwhile cause.

So in 2003, I ran (well, jogged) the Honolulu Marathon. I didn’t have the best time (10 hours, anyone?), but I finished. It was a massive accomplishment for me after going through a major surgery. My friends and I were able to raise thousands of dollars for AIDS services within Los Angeles and I had some killer legs!

I have decided that I need that “push” again to get myself back in shape. I went to the doctor’s office yesterday for my first physical in over two years and was freaked out by what I saw on the scale. I know the past few months have been extremely hard on my mental state (loss of job, girlfriend, home, etc), but I don’t have these setbacks anymore (well two out of 3 aint bad ). I need to get myself back in working order for many reasons, including the number one reason, my health.

There are two marathons that you can choose from the Chicago training program, Florence and Las Vegas. I have been to both places, and while I would love to go to Florence, I know that I can’t take that much time off work this year, so Vegas, here I come!

so i’ve been really, intensely sick. i got Strep Throat from a little girl, that morphed into Strep with a side of Scarlet Fever. i couldn’t swallow or breathe, i have a rash that itches to infinity, and merely moving at all sent me into the most major joint pain imaginable. it has not been pleasant.

i have, however, got a couple of positives out of the situation. first – for the first time in my life, i’ve been shown familial love when i was down. the couple that adopted my son have been amazing during this time. yesterday, i woke up to her being there to check on me and tucking me tighter into my blanket. she told me, “i brought you some surprises…” and she had peppermint patties, Dreamgirls on DVD, soup and a pair of tall, striped socks with rubber duckies on them.

to understand how awesome this is, you’d have to understand how different they are than me. whereas i’m a liberal Democrat who volunteers at Planned Parenthood and is going to marry a black man, they are conservative Republicans who listen to Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity and live in the whitest neighborhood around (and they always, as their big joke, serve me my coffee in a Rush Limbaugh mug)…so when i first came here and would go to ball games or events with them, she said, “what is this, with all of the tall & funky socks?” and i said, “they’re my thing, my fetish. i love tall & funky socks!”, to which she replied “okay. then.” Her tone telling me that she, once again, thought i was a total weirdo but she loved me enough to not talk about it.

(more…)

My little boy turns two tomorrow. And I can’t call him a baby anymore, now that he’s sleeping in a real bed (well, actually, my twin-sized futon from when I first moved to Chicago) and saying things like tattoo (I showed him pictures from a tattoo convention online yesterday). He got on the phone with my sister and proudly told her he was going to be eight on his birthday because he got that number, which is his bedtime, mixed up with his age. (more…)