This is 100% my own theory based on my own (still relatively short) experience with pregnancy. So, with that disclaimer – take it or leave it on my theory. Let’s start with “What is Pregnancy Brain” WebMD has an entire article on it, but the jist of it is – pregnant women struggle to continue to function at full use – “momnesia” I never understood how real it was until I was pregnant – nor how early it starts. I always assumed it was a 3rd trimester thing and because you feel so weird and out of sorts. Nope, it definitely started late 1st trimester for me and has only gotten more noticeable as I move through the 2nd trimester. So here’s the theory: Momnesia is because there is a cycle or two of the brain always processing the pregnancy. My brain continuously cycles anywhere from 3-6 different things at the same time. I don’t necessarily control these cycles. On a “normal”
Here’s how it goes (maybe this is only funny in MY head…). This name has two possible conversations when meeting people: Dog growling and snarling. Stranger: Wow your dog isn’t too friendly, is he. Owner: No, my dog is Friendly. Dog growls and lunges. Stranger: Ummm… no, your dog is definitely not friendly. Owner: I’m telling you, the dog IS Friendly. Stranger: That isn’t any definition of friendly I’d ever use. Owner: But he IS Friendly. Or: Dog wags tail and grins at people. Stranger: Wow! What a friendly dog. Owner: Yup. Friendly. Dog wriggles from shoulders down because of that tail-wag. Stranger: I don’t think I’ve seen such a sweetie. Owner: No, he’s Friendly. Stranger: Well yeah, I said that… I’m telling you – perfect dog name. As the owner you could have some damn fun conversations.
Genkii just brought me a lizard. My indoor only -not-a-hunter cat brought me a lizard. A teeny-tiny little thing. I squealed (benefits of being a female, no one is shocked when I react strongly to things like a lizard in my living room). So he drops said lizard (with a look of surprise) and it scurries under the couch (damnit!) Oh and the tail comes off. I know, I know. They are supposed to. My cat is fascinated by tail. Yes, like he’s supposed to be…. but now there is a lizard somewhere in my living room. I am not happy.
Let’s do this! Some of this was inspired by all those books where the hero eats “bread and cheese” for a meal – I was poking in my kitchen this weekend and needed a meal. So I took my last 2 deviled eggs, some grapes, homemade bread and put CHEESE on it. I grew up eating open-faced tomato and cheese sandwiches (kinda like this), but I only had grape tomatoes and didn’t think they would work well. So I toasted my cheese & bread. It wasn’t bad. Like 3.5/5. I knew it wouldn’t be inedible. Some of the problem is my cheese. This is just regular yellow american. Not the most flavorful cheese in the world. As I was eating I was thinking a nice munster or Gruyere would be better. Especially the Gruyere with the white grapes… cheese and wine are nice but honestly – cheese and grapes are better. Something with a little kick would have made this
I have a strange life. Not literally, in a lot of ways it’s very traditional. I’m cisgendered, white, hetersexually-married with the classic “house in the suburbs” (including a white picket fence actually) with a very corporate “normal” full-time job. And yet, I don’t feel like I’m normal. I sometimes feel like at any moment I will step out of my own skin and go on grand adventures with magic and dragons. And sometimes I hate the normality. I want to rebel against the corporate enclosure of dress pants, nice shirts and normal-colored hair I put on every day. I want to dye my hair silver and put on a long dress with a corset instead of a bra. I want to doff the heels (dress flats actually hurt MORE than most heels because they have NO support) and put on boots that lace to the knee – heeled or not! (I know it makes me a “real girl” but I could
I don’t know how this happens, but it is frequent enough that I know it does. The worst I had was a debt collector who just would not believe I wasn’t “Simon.” Pretty sure my voice is not that deep… Someone dials the wrong number and just does not believe the person answering is NOT their local pizza place. I might have been reading Not Always Right and everyone who’s worked in customer service should go there. I have decided how I will handle it. It would go (I expect) something like this: Me: Hello? Lost Soul: Hi, I want to order a pizza. Me: Oh, you must have dialed the wrong number, I’m not a pizza place. Lost Soul: Yeah, Pepperoni and fried pickles. Me: I don’t have pizzas. Lost Soul: Didn’t you hear me? Me: Yes. You apparently can’t hear me. *singing* And he/she was a lost soooooul in the wasteland…. Lost Soul: What? Did you put me
Meaning of “Pacific” – did you know?