I'm Going on a Picnic, and I'm Bringing a Bouncing Baby Boy...

Okay so that title is a total lie.  We brought grilled chicken and roasted veggies.  And a pig bull.  It was my sister-in-law who brought the baby.  But when you're playing the "Going on a Picnic" road trip game you don't say, "My sister-in-law is going on a picnic," because that's just awkward.

We went on a picnic today!  It was great.  We drove up to Olympia to meet up with Chelsea and Eaglet, and had a lovely walk around the lake, and then an equally lovely picnic.  Family time is good time.

This is how Nathan wants the world to think he reacts to babies:

"What is it?!"

But the reality is really a little closer to this:

Just some dudes hangin' out with a pig bull.

And if he thinks no one is watching?

Look closely at the fingers- he is totally tickling that baby.

Yeah.  Pretty awesome.  Anyway.

On our way home from Oly, we saw a sign for Rainbow Falls State Park, and made a "why the hell not" decision to go investigate it.

Investigations Galore

The falls weren't actually all that impressive, but it was a nice little side trip, and a nice little reminder that we are adults, and we do whatever the hell we want**.  Also it's just possible that Nathan managed to get a good shot or two out of it.  Proof of that particular pudding will have to wait, however, until he's caught up on today's sportball happenings.






**(just so long as we're not out too late because bedtimes)

This is Just to Say

Plums were on sale the last time I went to Chuck's, both red and black, and so I loaded up on the red ones, and that was on Wednesday and now it's Friday night and I've just eaten the last one (my fourth of the day) and all I can think is that I need to go get more plums like literally right now.



(Seriously you guys, it's been like eating succulent rubies imported directly from Bism.)



(Also, if my husband had eaten the last one before me I'd probably have murdered him, no matter how excellent a poem he left on the counter to replace it.)

Gaining Momentum

It's not just writing that I've been slacking on, lately.  I've also been slacking on eating right, riding my bike, and climbing, which has had certain, shall we say squishifying results on my body (not to mention unhappy results in my brain chemistry).  But I'm getting back in line with all those things- Nathan and I are teaming up with a friend of mine to do a (relative) Whole30 this month.  I say "relative" because we're electing to keep dairy in, and Nathan said the only way he'd do it was if he was allowed beers on Saturday, because it's football season.  To which I replied Deal, because moderation in all things, right?  Right.

So that's eating right.  Riding my bike took a hit when I jacked up my ankle back in June, but it's been feeling much better, lately, so back on the bike with me.  It's pretty much the same story with climbing, only with the added disincentive that was my climbing bros having had weird schedules all summer, so pretty much any time I was at the gym I was alone, and that just sucks and leads to limiting myself to like three routes before I give up in a bored and sulky pout.

Today, however, KB and I managed to hook up and I had the best day of climbing that I've had in a long-ass time- basically since my last outdoor trip, to French's Dome at the end of July.  (yeah, I know- I should have blogged about that at the time.  Sorry...)  And that little trip resulted in an elephant-looking ankle, which today did not, so all in all, today wins.  Yay winning!

Of course, now my hands are too shredded to practice the guitar, which I have also been slacking on, but still... one step at a time...

Tooth for a Tooth

So I've basically spent the past two months wandering around in an uninspired wasteland, and while I feel like that was maybe somewhat justified, that time has passed and it's time to get my shit together and be a writer again.  Which includes blogging, because seriously- how lame is it that I only had one entry for the month of August?  Pretty lame, I'm just saying.

Today is Wednesday, which means Errands Day, and I conducted myself accordingly.  First things first, I took Kink back to the vet, because two weeks ago he had a tooth extracted and apparently a fortnight is the amount of time one waits before following up on these sorts of things (Houston we are cleared for crunchy food- praise Sekhmet!)  The girl behind the desk mentioned that it had been a weird morning- "We had so many appointments scheduled, but two were no-shows, and one called to cancel- and then you were pretty early, which actually worked out really well!"

"Yeah, I tend to be early," I said.  "I have to factor in Jenny O Gets Lost Time."

Puzzled head cock from the tech.

"See, I'm really, really bad about getting lost, even going to places I've been a billion times," I explained**, "So I always have to plan in extra time- which generally ensures that I will not get lost, but if I don't factor it in, then I will."

Of course, "generally ensures" does not equate to "always ensures", and thus a few hours later I found myself sitting in a parking lot, calling my new dentist's office.

"Yeah, hi- where are you guys, exactly?"

As it turned out I'd actually already been in the correct parking lot a few minutes prior, but somehow missed the entire building (don't ask) and so moved on to the next (incorrect) parking lot in an attempt to track it down.  It also turned out to be less of a hassle to walk back to the correct location than to attempt to drive back to it, so that's what I did.  And thanks to Jenny O Gets Lost Time, I still managed to arrive on schedule.

Word of advice?  Don't let four years go by between seeing a dentist.  That being said, expect more Thrilling Dental Adventures next Wednesday, when I return to get my two cavities filled (and cracked filling replaced).  ::sigh::





**Our first Christmas as a couple, Nathan bought me a Garmin.  Because he'd been on the phone with me one too many times when I said, "Huh.  I wonder where I am..."

Words and Gods

I am a man, and men are animals who tell stories.  This is a gift from God, who spoke our species into being, but left the end of our story untold.

                                -Sacrament, Clive Barker

I disagree; I feel certain all animals must tell stories- because we know animals dream, and we know animals communicate, and what are stories but communicated dreams?  It's just that ours is the species who writes them down.  Perhaps, then, the Gods' magic resides not so much in the Words themselves, but in the letters used to Shape them...

So You Married a Feminist

It's no secret that I'm a feminist.  I'm not quiet about it, and I never have been.  Momma done raised me right, and all that.  So, of course, Nathan was fully aware that he was marrying a feminist- and he may even have had an inkling of what that meant.

Me, on the other hand?  Well, I had my suspicions (in fact they were more than suspicions, or I wouldn't have married him) but it wasn't until the other day that I had the chance to make my pronouncement...

"I watched Mulan while you were gone," he says absently as we flip through Netflix options.

"Yeah?"  I perk up.  I love that movie.  Generally speaking, I will love any story that involves a protagonist who gender-bends to get what they want.  Especially if what they want is to be a warrior.

"Yeah.  I don't get why she wasn't more angry."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just- she saves the entire friggin' army and China all by herself, but when that guy she likes finds out she's not a man suddenly she's not trustworthy anymore?  And at the end of the movie she just forgives him like it's no big deal!"  His voice is full of disgust, and I cannot help but laugh.

"So you're saying... she should be treated the same regardless of her gender?"

He makes a noncommittal grunt, and I smile sweetly.  "You are so a feminist," I say, and kiss him on the forehead.

On Being Okay

I am a writer.  It's what I do.  I write.  It's how I process things.  So when I found out I was pregnant, I wrote about it.  And the day after my miscarriage, I wrote about that.  And I'm still writing, about both those things.  Because I'm still dealing with them, and I expect that I will be for a long time to come.  And while it's true that there's no actual need for me to post what I write for the world to see, I've come to the conclusion that if there's any chance that what I've written might help someone else process things, well... why not?

It took me a bit to come to this conclusion.  If you'd asked me, a year ago, if I'd ever post in a public forum about having had a miscarriage, my answer would have been the cliched, "Not no but hell no."  Grief has always been a fairly private thing to me.  I don't want it on display; I don't want people feeling sorry for me; I want to deal with my shit and move on.

But.

Then the hypothetical became reality.  And I suddenly realized that by not talking about it, I was be making it more dark and terrible than it actually was.  That's not to say it wasn't terrible- it was.  It is.  It will be.  But by being able to talk to people about it, it helps me feel like it's going to be okay.  After all, I don't hide the fact that my father died- why should I hide the fact that our baby died?  To hide that it existed in the first place, to deny the joy that we felt over the burgeoning possibilities hidden in my womb- that, to me, seems more unbearable by far than to admit to people that now I'm sad.

I was still on the fence about it until a chance encounter this afternoon.  I ran into a friend of mine, and when he asked me about climbing, I hesitated, took a deep breath- and admitted that I'd just had a miscarriage.  And do you know what happened?  He didn't feel sorry for me- he gave me an understanding look, and then told me about when he and his wife went through miscarriage.  And then we made jokes.  And it was okay.  I was okay.

Sad, but okay.  So I got home, and I decided to post all these little writings I had laying around, so that the world can see how happy I was- and how sad I am.  And how okay I'll be.