I was mowing earlier, and -- as I'm wont to do when I'm stuck with my own thoughts, enveloped in a haze of mosquitoes, pollen, and gas fumes -- I started thinking about the word "the." More specifically, I was thinking about how the word "the" relates to each of us. We all have a "the" or three attached to our names. And those "the"s define who we are to other people, and can change throughout our lives.
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Today, after a half-day at work, began Billy's first vacation in about 4 years. I pray to whichever invisible deity is listening that today's 8-hour kerfuffle isn't a sign of what the next 9 days are gonna be like.
I had the best dream that I never wanted to wake up from...I dreamed that somehow I was able to afford a really nice telescope, and I set it up in the yard, and everything I pointed it at was breathtaking. I saw a beautiful golden spiral galaxy near Cassiopeia, and a jaw-dropping purple and green nebula within Ursa Major...and then I was awoken from that wonderful dream by a text from my husband that simply said "LA face with an Oakland booty." (Photo of Owl Nebula borrowed from HERE.)
It's been a busy past few days, and I hadn't had the time before now, but I was gonna tell you all how much fun I had at the Pride Parade on Sunday!
A couple of years ago, I walked with the Oklahoma Atheists in the Halloween parade. We were mostly well-received, but I was shocked at how many people acted ugly to us...spitting at us, saying awful things about us burning in Hell, telling their kids not to take the candy we were passing out...even the children were spitting venom that night. This may come as a shock to you men -- it's not the job of me, of my sisters, of my friends or relatives or of any other woman on this planet to make sure you never see another boob, OR that you're always up to your eyeballs in them.
Penny Viriapah and I opened a salon together. I was doing a manicure on an Alzheimer's patient who kept trying to stand up and walk away. Her daughter kept getting really frustrated and said her mom liked music if I had any. I put my phone on shuffle and the first song to pop up was one by The Birthday Massacre. I was surprised to discover that the daughter was a fellow fan and knew all the lyrics. So we sang while I finished her mom's manicure.
My 8 year old daughter is telling me all about her favorite Magic: The Gathering cards. Billy has been teaching her to play, and the two of them have been battling it out just about every afternoon for the past few weeks. "This one is a +2 to fire power..." (as you can tell, I have no clue what any of this shit mean) "...and deals 3 damage against spirit monsters if they're in a grassland."
Uhhhhhhh...this one has a pretty picture on it. I'm so, so glad she and Billy have so much they can connect with. This is gonna be a heady bit of Toni insight, so bear with me here...
I grew up in a pretty typical Baptist home in Pink, Oklahoma. I had two younger sisters, a mom and a dad, a parakeet and a couple of dogs. We were poor in the 80's because of the recession, but we had love...and food stamps, cuz love doesn't buy groceries. We were taught about the Bible from an early age, and about God and Jesus and all the angels and the ten commandments and the cross; the usual religious fare. I wrote this several months ago for Invisible Illness Awareness week, in hopes of maybe helping out someone who's struggling with undiagnosed symptoms.
After years of searching for answers and being blown off by doctors, my husband Billy was finally given a diagnosis of Gitelman's Syndrome in June 2011. His very first clue that something may be wrong came from an incident when he was in 3rd grade. I get asked a LOT by friends and strangers alike online and elsewhere if I think they should get a rabbit for their kids, or how much work it is to take care of a rabbit, or what KIND of rabbit they should get. So, in response to that, I wrote a "bunny parenting guide" of sorts to answer all the main questions and hopefully help people to understand what they're in for when opening their home to a bunny rabbit. So, here goes! |
Don't Pick Your Nose at the Dinner TableAuthorWife. Mom. Atheist. Photographer. Science and History enthusiast. Categories
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