After a long non-blogging/non-internet period, do you ever feel strange about starting up again? For the last 10 days, I’ve been outside every day for hours on end, and now I’m back to my windowless office with plans to stare at a computer all.damn.day. It’s hardly inspiring. So I’ll dip my toe into the blogging with a vacation list update & an interview.
1) finish the grape arbor/pergola before Little Man’s birthday party on the 27th.
2) spin every day (i.e. zen it up)
3) work on the Dale
4) photograph the stash for Ravelry
5) work on the downstairs bathroom before visitors arrive and need to use it (eek!) — finish painting walls; paint ceiling; paint beadboard; disconnect the toilet, remove remnants of old flooring & replace wax ring; sand & paint floor (a stop-gap measure).
6) post an update to the upstairs bathroom saga (since I’ve heard from more than a couple people that they’re anxiously awaiting the end of that story — who knew?)
7) post the “dick swinging at the plumbing supply house” story.
Despite the sad 43% performance, my moleskine houses 4 pages of lists, starting with a master vacation list, followed by smaller daily lists. And only 3 items were not completed! Yes!
Photos tomorrow, I promise.
Way back on Mother’s Day, Roro answered a series of questions and asked for other victims. I decided to play along, because I was dying to see what questions Roro would pick for me. Here they are, slightly tamer than I expected:
1. Your mom is visiting and stumbles upon your enormous stash of whips, riding crops and various studded leather items. What does she say? What do you say?
Mom: Ummm … Maaaafiiiiiia!? [giggle giggle] What’s all this stuff?
Mafia: MOOOOOMM! Get out of there! Good lord woman, have you no boundaries?
Mom: I’m just glad to know that my daughter has an active and imaginative sex life. Clearly Wifey is hiding a wild side behind that Martha Stewart exterior.
Mafia: Mom. Seriously. Just stop talking. I’m either going to die of embarassment or puke. ssshhh … ok? please?
Mom: Oh this is nothing. Did I ever tell you about my patient with the penis piercing?
Mafia: [covers ears] LaLaLaLLLLAAAAAAAA!
2. If you could have one do-over, what big or small choice would you go back and change?
I would’ve been nicer to my family during my 20s. I believed that “chosen family” was possible, and now I understand that blood is indeed thicker than water (even if the blood isn’t exactly genetically linked).
3. What’s the thing you’re least excited about having to explain to your son as he grows up? Will there be handpuppets?
I’m totally fine with the sex talk. Wifey — not fine. She’s lucky that I’m around. But I’ve recently realized that Little Man and I need to discuss privacy and boundaries and inappropriate touching, and a part of my heart is dying at the thought. My sweet little boy needs to understand that people aren’t always kind and generous, and the loss of his innocence is breaking my heart. And what do I say? How do I balance being informative and not scary? How can I be sure that he’ll come to me if something horrid happens? Stranger fear is important, but all the stats say that abuse comes at the hands of someone he knows. I can’t tell him that his penis is 100% private when teachers and other caretakers need to help him with the potty and bathing. How do I teach him the right boundaries? “If it makes you uncomfortable, you need to tell Mommy” - but what’s uncomfortable? Seriously, my chest tightens every time I think about it.
4. If you could instantly master one skill, what skill would you choose?
Spinning.
Weaving.
Blacksmithing.
Remembering song lyrics.
Singing.
Painting with abandon.
The ability to convince my department that I should work at home.
Break dancing (come on! it would have incredible shock value.)
5. What’s been your proudest moment so far?
Graduating from college.
Because my parents finished their undergraduate degrees later in life, and beyond that, no one in my extended family went to college. But I went to a fancy college, a fact that created both real and imagined distance between me and most members of my extended family. And I paid for college. The first month of every semester consisted of begging the financial aid office, begging my parents, finding extra work, applying for every loan imaginable, signing countless forms, explaining to professors why I didn’t have the books yet, and avoiding those supposedly voluntary dorm-related fees. There’s nothing quite as charming as a poor girl detailing her financial woes again and again to a rich girl, who arrived at college with a brand new Volvo, and can’t comprehend why a “payment plan” for the house kegger fees just won’t work. In the end, it all worked out, and I’m a devoted alumna.
If you want to play along, leave a comment saying, “Interview me, please.”
I will respond by emailing you five questions of my choosing.
You must update your blog with the answers to the questions. Whether you like them or not.
You have to include this explanation, and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
