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Sunday, November 30, 2003. And I can SEE! Two-fourteen, I breathed. Could you see it that well when you came in? Doc, I had no IDEA there was a clock on that wall. I know it may seem trivial, because it’s not like I couldn’t actually see before. I had perfectly functional vision with my corrective lenses. But now I wake up in the morning and can see my boys as they bounce on the foot of my bed. I can see in the shower, I can see in the middle of the night. I tear up sometimes, I’m so grateful. Oh, and if...
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Thursday, July 31, 2003. Have I seemed a touch bitchy to anyone today? Those of you who don’t know me personally may be a bit perplexed by the question. Those of you who do know me face-to-face, remember that although you may be reading this August 1, I am writing it July 31. So? Have I been a bit abrasive? I’ll tell you why. Don’t correct me; don’t tell me it used to be my anniversary. Whatever may have happened in the interim, I was married on this day, nine years ago. Uh, uh, uh! Or my ex husband?
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Sunday, August 31, 2003. I was reading an essay from the book Why I’m Like This. By Cynthia Kaplan (wonderful book, by the way. Go thou and read likewise), in which she mentions that once you have been a waitress you will forever after suffer waitress dreams. Oh, so very true. I’ve been both a cocktail waitress and a waitress in an Italian/seafood restaurant. The server gig is probably the best hourly wage you’ll ever make, legally and without an education. But there are the dreams. My point (yes, I have...
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Monday, June 30, 2003. I’m not sure I’m mentally up to a coherent blog, so I thought I’d treat you to a potpourri of musings from the trip. Snapshots, if you will. Wesley did get married. Her husband is not named Jesse after all, but Dustin. He seems like a very nice guy. Cried like a baby when his dad stood up to toast them, and you’ve gotta love that. Wesley was easily the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, and everything was just gorgeous. Classy. Great, he replied, it’s good for spitting in. I thin...
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Thursday, April 29, 2004. Hi, everyone. If you're still looking for me here, please check out my new blog at http:/ kiwords.blogs.com/. Move along. Nothing more to see here. ¶ 4/29/2004 09:00:00 PM. Wednesday, April 07, 2004. It’s raining gently on my tender little lettuce and spinach and sugar snap pea and cabbage sprouts. Could life get any better? Then again, check back in this weekend when it’s supposed to snow. Expect much grimness. I’ve finally done it! Para; 4/07/2004 09:42:00 PM. I looked at him ...
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Wednesday, March 31, 2004. Raphael learned to climb out of his crib months ago. If I were a good mother, I would have switched him to a big-boy bed by now. But I figure, hey, I’d just have to find a suitably sturdy set of guardrails to keep him from falling out of his bed, and his crib already has these bars all aroundsort of like a full set of guard rails! Ah just waked up? I come and stand at the bottom of the stairs and smile encouragingly up at him, You sure did, baby! But ah don’ wanna go sweep.
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Friday, October 31, 2003. Obligatory cute kids in their costumes entry. Wouldn’t that be great? He sighed at me and patted his belly, upon which he already was wearing the Shoopershirt. Mama, he said slowly, as one might to a very stupid child, Ah. Am. Shooperman. So I managed to peel the shirt off him so I could wash it, and tonight he wore it, complete with red cape. Dad kept trying to take pictures of the three of them in their costumes, but Raphael would sing his Shooperman song, Ah’m Shooperman!
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http://kiwords.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html
Sunday, February 29, 2004. How was everyone’s Leap Day? Did you all observe with solemnity the importance of the day? Yeah, me neither. The closest thing to a Leap Day celebration we had around here is when Raphael played with the Leap Pad. William was born March 1, and I’ve never quite gotten over it. I’m still convinced she could have had him on February 29 if she’d just wanted to, but no. And now the day is here againsniffit’s bringing up old woundssniff. Para; 2/29/2004 09:33:00 PM. But of course the...
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Tuesday, December 30, 2003. I went to my favorite weight class tonight, but the instructor was late. We all milled around for a bit, then someone went to ask the front desk what the heck was up. A quick call to his home, and he was there five minutes later. We gave him grief about it, good-naturedly of course, and set to working out. It did seem odd, though. Not like Pete. They told me he’s dead. Just like that. He shook his head and wandered off. Isorry, I said to his back. What do you say? I heard some...
