My New Image

A lot of heavy stuff going on in the world lately, but I feel like being frivolous. So here goes...

So I'm taking stock of my life lately and seeing what it all adds up to. Breastfeeding, check. Breastfeeding in public places and in front of every male in my family, check. Obsession with knitting in particular and handmaking things in general, check. No makeup and not even a bra unless I'm going somewhere, check. Apparently, I have some granola tendencies. Was I always like this? I guess so. It's just more pronounced now. So I'm trying to punk up my life a little. Show that I still know from style and am more than just your average stay at home mom. But what can I do? Pink dye would only cover up the grey hairs of which I am inexplicably proud. A tattoo is an awfully big step. And for that matter, a tattoo of what? If only they had polls on blogger... Well, I'm taking submissions. My favorite idea is just to get a tattoo of the word "tattoo." Wanna see my tattoo? You get the joke. *I* think it's a funny one. Anyway... yes, I understand what a unique snowflake slash space monkey I am. I just want to tweak my image a little. I just don't know where to start. It's weird. I'm happier than I've ever been. I love my husband. I have a beautiful, happy baby who is (thank you, Jesus) healthy. And she sleeps through the night, too. I just figure... I went through 22 hours of labor AND a c-section and have embraced the resulting adult lifestyle that the aftermath required. I just want a physical outward sign that says I acknowledge all that, and I'm not dead yet, either.

And smoking is out. it's been almost a year since my last cigarette. I can no longer take the guilt with the littering, the harm it causes my body, as another person now depends on it for transportation, hygeine and food. Not to mention the smell on my clothes. And my knitting. Yuck! Stinky knitting. Good thing I quit when I did. But I SO miss it. Like I miss sleeping in positions that deny Lily immediate access to my boobs. There are just things I can not do anymore. So I want to explore those routes that are still open to me. Speaking of that, if you can't donate blood after you get a tattoo, what's the rule on breastfeeding and tattoos? There's a question for the La Leche League. tattoos are probably out. I guess part of being an adult is just learning that it might just be enough for me to be me. As soon as I find out where they sell the pink hair dye near my house.

My new project.

I'm obsessed with knitting. More about obsessions in general, at a later date. But currently, knitting is my thing. I hang out with knittiers, I knit at work when I can and I talk about knitting. to my husband, who know nothing about knitting and several other non knitting friends. I'm considering joining the knitting guild so I can enroll in their master knitter program. Say Master Knitter a couple times. It's fun. So, yeah. Knitting. But tonight, I think I may have gone too far. Tonight, I started plotting out my very own knitting murder mystery. It's a natural extension for me. I have this huge background in books and I love murder mysteries. My parents write murder mysteries and murder mysteries routinely take place inside a small community, not unlike the local knitting community. And they (not my parents) write murder mysteries about freaking talking corgis, so why the eff not a murder mystery with knitting. (And NO, no one will be stabbed with knitting needles) if anyone thinks of a good title, I'm open to suggestion. I know there's one out there, I'm just not there yet. Anyway, it's my first book and Tuesday night I'm going to a writing group with my new friend Mary, so I'm glad that I now have a project to discuss.

In other knitting news, I reached and passed the halfway point on my baby blanket, which is cool. it's all downhill from here. Did I mention that I'm not buying any more yarn until I finish my two prjects I've got going now? I really mean it. And I'm taking orders for knitted goods for Christmas. Anyone who wants a Harry Potter scarf (in your choice of house colors) should speak now. And I've sorted out my next four or so projects. Which I will not ennumerate and describe here, because I have mercy on you and restraint for myself. Sigh.

In other dork news, I watched most of all three LOTR movies yesterday. And then today, I had lunch with Mary and we walked around and talked about things we want to make. What fun!! AND we got to listen to This American Life which was all about profanity and (as usual) fascinating.

Baby news. Lily came through her first round of shots like a champ. I did not break down and cry. I count the day a success. Baby tylenol is a wonderful product.

And, preliminarily, it looks like the Lakers are losing the Finals which does my husband's Knick loving heart good. Though I can't help but feel sad for Karl Malone. I'm not the best sports fan. I lack the killer instinct. At least as far as sports are concerned.

It's like this. Generally, I have no use for celebrity, but deep in my heart, I lust after it. Intellectually, I can coolly disdain the cult of personality that is our nation's adoration of a few blessed, beautiful morons. But put me in a doctor's office and I snatch up the nearest People magazine. And every day, like a robot, I read the celebrity news and gossip page at IMDB. Anyway, famous people, I can take em or leave em, though I tend to embarrass myself and my husband in front of them. But there are some famous people who get on my nerves more than others.

Like Oprah. Daytime television is a big part of my new mother lifestyle. I used to have work and napping to fill up those endless sunshiny hours, now I have talk shows. And who would a talk show junkie be without Oprah. Oprah, who maintains that she's just a normal girl at heart who likes to save a buck here and there. Oprah who has John Travolta give her her 50th birthday toast. Normal girl my aunt fannie. And then today, on Oprah, they're doing cute redecoration things, and one of them requires re-making a coffee table. With plywood. And Oprah asks, "Where do you buy plywood?" Maybe she was just trying to get in an extra plug for the sponsor of the hour, Home Depot. But she looked really dumb. And fake. She's the most powerful woman in the country and she doesn't know where to buy plywood. She doesn't have people to tell her how this looks? And let's not forget that the reason she recommended The Heart is a Lonely Hunter to people is that it was Julia Roberts' favorite book. Don't get me wrong, if I needed advice on how to steal someone's husband, Julia would be up there, but literature? Call me elitist, but she's not high on my list of people who know from books.

Jenny's Rule of Celebrity #1
Know how it looks.

Another celebrity who gets on my nerves is Gwyneth Paltrow, but this needs some backstory. I spent an embarrassing number of years obsessed with a rock band you've never heard of (unless you've heard me mention them. In this case, my apologies.). I was eaten up with the desire to be up there in the middle of that. All that fun and style and inside jokes. To hang out with the cool kids, and what's cooler than rockstars? Anyway... here comes Gwyneth Paltrow, daughter of famous people, Oscar winner, no bigger than a minute and she's the love of this internationally famous musician who doesn't suck (if he sucked, even a little, it would be more forgivable). And THEN, she gets knocked up. And there is no scene. Just a quick, quiet wedding and some fucked up baby namage. This is upsetting a) because now we'll probably have to wade through Apple's movie career, too. And b) Mainly because it proves that to have that perfectlife with the happy family and the rockstar boyfriend, you have to BE Gwyneth Paltrow. Not to mention how she LOOKED while pregnant. Let's not go there.

Jenny's Rule of Celebrity #2
Don't rub it in. It hurts when you rub it in.

Jeremy and I always joke that one day, far in the misty future, we will have a big fight about religion. Me feeling generally positive about the subject and him not so much. Now that we have a baby, I feel the fight is much closer. But before I can argue it out with Jeremy, a fine arguer himself, I have to puzzle out how I feel on the subject. You may not know this (except you, Genny), but I used to be very religious. Highly Christian, in fact. Unbeknownst to me, at the time, I was also mentally ill, so I am reluctant to trust the authenticity of many of my feelings from that time. Does that make sense? I'm unsure which parts of my faith were authentic and which parts were misguided brain chemicals. But this weekend, I decided to at least start actively pondering the questions, if not struggling with the answers just yet. I have very definite ideas of what Christianity doesn't look like, but what does it look like, in real life, in these modern times?
I've been pondering similar questions about parenthood and adulthoodand come up with the answers that they look remarkably like my present life. I wonder if Jesus will be so easily assimilated into my largely domestic existence. That's my problem. I *like* my life now. So much has changed so recently. And some old things, too. How far can I be trusted with religion? Which feelings are mine? Which voices are to be listened to?