Why Do The Heathen Rage?

Finished up my passport stuff this morning. In a little while, I'll scan my picture for you all. It's brilliant, it really is. The guy took three shots. Two of them were normal looking. But on the third, somebody'd dropped some glass just before he took the picture and I was in the middle of registering a look of shock when he snapped it. So my eyebrows are up really high and I have a stupid sort of semi-smile, and an oddly cocked head angle. You guys will love it. It was terrific too, because, considering that there were two normal pictures and only one really awful one, the guy chose to print out the awful one. While I tried to act annoyed for my father's sake (he was with me, and it's only fair that he got to make fun), I was secretly pleased that they picked the worst one. If I'm ever arrested for international terrorism, or killed as the result of such or something, the picture splayed all across the news will be utterly atrocious and snicker rather than sympathy inspiring.

But then, it's no secret that I'm abnormally fond of incredibly bad pictures; check my photo in this blog. Someday my kids will screw up their little faces at me and say: "Momma, how come you were cute when you were little, and then you turned into that? I'm cute and little, am I gonna end up funny lookin' like you?" And being the sympathetic mother that I will undoubtedly become, I will respond: "Yes, dear, I'm sorry. Puberty does really awful things to the children in our family. Enjoy beauty while you're young, darlings, it fades before you're old enough to start dating."

April told me last night that I have no motherly qualities at all. The comment was inspired by my dislike of the birthing process. People often call birth beautiful; I do not see it as such. I appreciate the miracle of life and all that. It boggles my mind that one tiny little cell turns into billions of them. I'm totally appreciative of the growing child in the womb. But that whole pain of expulsion bit, and the placenta, eahh, could do without it. I may have natural children yet, but I doubt the fact will change my view of the birthing process. I was present at the birth of a child once, and I did not appreciate it then. And I appreciated his circumscision even less. What's the point of that? Who originally thought up the practice? I guess it's okay enough for Jewish or Muslim folks who have religious obligations; though I'm not sure I like it even then. But for good Christians, or agnostics or atheists, what could possibly persuade you to maim your infant son's penis?

I have to go to the bank today to transfer funds to my checking account to afford my passport and credit card bill. I don't want to go to the bank. I wish I could do it online. Why can't I do it online, darn it? Getting out of the house is all hard and stuff.

Oh yes, and it sucked waking up at seven today.

My mom and dad are driving to Columbus as I speak. Hopefully the date for mom's surgery will be set. I hope it's soon because I'm sensing she could use a bit of a vacation from work. Being sick isn't worth anything at all, except the right to stay home. So I hope it works out well for her. Sister still remains undiagnosed. There's a distinct possibility of lung cancer. There's a minute possibility of Tuberculosis, still. There's a chance that it's next to nothing at all. The doctor's being super thorough, which is as comforting as it is terrifying. You want to doublecheck before you tell someone they've got cancer. But then, you probably want to doublecheck before you tell someone they don't, too.

Time is moving quickly today. I can't believe it's already noon. I swear the earth's rotation picks up speed on weekends.

posted by Sarie @ 11:56 AM >Comments: 0