mrtl

Tits

Censorship. It's struck me lately, realizing I've been free sharing my blog with others. I suppose since I post so rarely these days I've distanced myself from it. Whatev. This was all good. I just had to bite my tongue on the great blogging material.

A local friend recently had a double mastectomy as a preventive measure. Not being the novice knitter I was when Kranki went through hers, I was prepared and confident to knit this friend some replacement parts.

::tangential rant::
AM is smirking at this. I know it. She picked up knitting needles and practically instantly was making fair isle hats. She made some tits, too, and had them stuffed, blocked, dried, and packed to be delivered several weeks before I even figured out how to start them. They looked so much better, too. Don't mind me; I'm just jealous of her fabu tits. Look at them! Look at these beautiful tits!

Compare those beauties to mine. Lumpy, mishapen and deathly pale.

::end tangential rant::

While still in the planning stage, I considered using an extremely soft, albeit acrylic yarn for the tits. I ended up opting for cotton, which is much gentler on tender skin, but the thought of so soft tits was amusing all the same. I knew her husband would be all over those bad boys:

"Honey? Have you seen my tits?"
"What tits? I haven't seen any tits. Why do you think I'd know where your tits are?"
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"In the crack of the chair. Next to you. You shoved my tits in the crack, didn't you?"
"Ummm.... uhhh... Of course not. Hey! What are your tits doing in my crack?"
"Were you fondling my tits? I can't believe you were fondling my tits when they weren't even in my bra! You bastard!"
"But honey, they're SO SOFT!"

It's a good thing we gave her two sets so there's that option.

Where's Santa?

According to NORAD, he's in Spain.

The bonus is calling their toll-free line. He told Bug to get to bed before 9, since Santa usually hits Alaska before the rest of the country.

To You and Yours

Now for some discussion. I've been working on a theory and would like to bounce it off of my visitors. (Lurkers, too. It's my holiday wish for you to say at least "hello.")

Theory: Santa Claus. God. Same dude.

No? Hear me out here.

1. Santa knows who's been naughty and nice. How could he know that stuff? Totally God's area of expertise.
2. Santa is everywhere on Christmas Eve. Everywhere.
3. Santa is acclimated to the cold. Hello? You tell me a better opposite of Hell than the North Pole.
4. Despite the cold, both can warm hearts.
5. Not everyone believes in Santa Claus.
6. Santa Claus doesn't mind that.
7. Both use threats to try to make people believe in them. Santa: No Gifts for You. God: Burning in Hell.
8. Many parents totally try to force their kids to believe in Santa. And God.
9. Santa brings presents. God, presence.

I'm sure there are other good comparisons here, but this is what I have so far.

With my religious background, I'm drawn to this theory. I've thought for so long now that holidays like Christmas and Easter were Christian constructs built around existing Pagan holidays. This helps to bind the two.

Of course, this theory will need to be expanded to include connections with other belief systems. I'm pleased with its progress so far.

That Kind of Day

It's been a rough one in mrtland, yo. Let's recap.

After going to bed late last night (besides still being on Alaska time, Jem refused to sleep and insisted on screaming just before I hit the shower, so she screamed while I took my shower and then settled right down afterwards - WTF?), I woke up early this morning to go into the office.

Tired, I chased my smoothie with three cups of coffee (the first of which with straight sugar before finding the sweetener) and a Boston Cream donut. (Shut up. We don't have Dunkin Donuts in Alaska and I was weak.)

On my first (of several) potty runs, while wrestling Spanxy back up, I realized that I had somehow neglected to change out of my eva-so-unsupportive sports sleep bra. This prompted 1) a constant self-consciousness that the girls were cross-eyed, 2) and staring at the floor , and 3) a fourth cup of coffee.

Work in itself was a study in duplicative effort and and in self control not to bitch slap the first person who tried to cheer me up. Hello? I'm trying hard enough to stay awake and focus on redoing all this work; nothing's going to make me smile, especially with the added distraction of GBT (Granny Bingo Tits). (To whit, duplication was not my error. I'm just saying. Perhaps I'd be more annoyed were it my mistake, but it was a really, moronically, stupendously idiotic mistake.)

Then at home, once the girls --- my daughters, not my boobs --- were in bed, I was back to my big knitting project...

::tangent to describe big knitting project::
I've been thinking of doing this since May. MAY! The planning that went into making my own pattern, with a splended monogram on the opposite side! This knitted bag was to be felted and gloriously displayed by the recipient FER SURE!
::end tangent to describe big knitting project::

... Yeah, "was." After taking all the time and getting damned near halfway through the project, I realized the monogram was not only backwards, but BACKWARDS. That is, a mirror image of non-palindromic letters, IN THE WRONG ORDER. So what do I do? Frog it? Finish it with the error and tell her to always look at the bag in a mirror? GAH! There is no way this is going to be finished for Christmas because I am SO OVER YOU STUPID FELTED BAG, and now I'll have to go shopping to find something else to give the recipient.

grrrrrr... I am so going to sleep now.

----

Wait a minute. In the spirit of balance -- I am a Libra after all -- I will say that today brought wonderful news as well. For one, I got an unexpected call from mister mrtl. Squeeee! Second, I heard the other night that one of my favorite Marines (the one that intended to be strapped to my back) had perished in Iraq. After hearing conflicting information and not being able to find his name on casualty lists online, I sent some emails today. A colleague iinformed me that he had spoken with the Gunny minutes before and could thus confidently assure me that he was still with us.

Ok. I am so going to sleep better now.

Dr. Phil, He Mocks Me

Catching up on Thursday's episode about obese children, Dr. Phil talks of a mother whose "problem" is that her obese child refuses to eat anything but orange chicken. Dr. Phil tells the mother to stop giving the child orange chicken. Bastard! He should have told her to send it to me.

::tangential tangent::
The "mrtl tangent" has really gone out of control. As little as I blog these days, I still see it being used in other blogs. It's taken on a life of its own. The nods are flattering, but they make me a wee self-conscious about my home page -- am I tangential enough? -- and moreso about the fact that my claim to fame in blogland is in being so scattered.

::tangent of self-awareness::
My old friend's mother used to call me "dipstick." It never bothered me until just this moment, because I never saw any truth in it. I was silly, sure, but not stupid.
::end tangent of self-awareness::

::end tangential tangent::

I know that my own relationship with food has got to change. I can't get my head around the words to describe my thoughts here. ... For as long as I remember, my relationship with food has been centered around finding happiness, eating emotionally. Most of my childhood (and not so childhood) memories are very focused on food. However, I'm finding a higher level of psychological satisfaction when I eat nutritiously and find myself more alert, energetic, and motivated.

There have been several examples over the last few days in which I've caught recent errors in judgment, lapses in memory, and losses of common sense. Along with such feats of mental prowess I have also managed to become a bit of a Wonder Woman (not to be confused with Wonder Yoshi). I credit these realizations with my newfound "Popeye Smoothies" (as AM calls them). Like today? Today the bugs and I went on a playdate to make gingerbread houses. We left after breakfast and didn't get home till early afternoon, having to make a stop at the grocery store. Still, today I managed to make a monster batch of smoothies (one generous helping for me and 18 1 1/2-cup servings in the freezer for future drug fixes), carrot and yellow squash purees (yes), clean up the public areas downstairs, and entertain guests (including cooking dinner). I also finally figured out why I was having so much trouble starting my recent knitting project and got a half bit (hee - will have to explain this joke later since the recipient may read this and the surprise would be lost) done. There's hope now that I'll actually be able to finish them before heading back to Maryland.

Even still, old mrtl-who-wants-food-to-please-her isn't out of the picture. The smoothies, made later in the day, HAD to be tested. Several tests, a large glass, and eight hours later, I'm still awake. I did say the other day that I shouldn't be drinking them so close to bedtime. I didn't learn. Dipstick. If I make this mistake again, I shall have to try exercising to see if that helps me settle more quickly. I've always had such a hard time getting off my ass once the kids are in bed, so maybe a boost would be a good thing to encourage a round on the treadmill.

What ho? A yawn? A yawn! To all a good night.