Tag Archives: This Book Will Change Your Life

The challenge today is shut the fuck up, in so many words… This isn’t something I’d likely be capable of under the simplest of circumstances.  But today I had a billion people to call and it wasn’t an option.  However, to those who know me even marginally it is likely  a surprise how often I am quiet for most of the day.   At least a couple of days a week I don’t see a soul in my office and it’s just me and the tunes… if I was so inclined I could probably get away with Do Not Disturbing my phone and enjoying a day of solitude while in my office but I’d struggle with explaining to my daughter that I’d not be opening my mouth all day.  Not that she can’t appreciate some quiet.  She can see the need for quiet spread across my face and she’ll ask “If you want me to, Mom, I can just be silence?”

She hasn’t yet come to understand that sometimes “being silence” is not a means to an end but the goal in and of itself.  I’ve always enjoyed the quiet of my own mind.  And I am more than pleased to see that Emily is content to go up in her room and busy herself quietly.  Coloring, puzzles, looking at books…. she can give quietly entertaining herself  a pretty good run most days.  I like that she’s inherited this.

I could go on and on about this…. but that kinda defeats the purpose, huh?

So here I am being “silence.”  Sadly, I can not seem to communicate to my forehead the need to keep a lid on it. My forehead has tons to say….

If you have a particular faith or religion, that is good. But you can survive without it. ~ Dalai Lama

Today’s challenge was to determine what you’d like to come back as in your next life and send a note to the Dalai Lama.  To begin with I am, as my daughter would say “a fan” of the Dalai Lama.  Any religious leader that seems to understand that “religion” is a vague term at best is an admirable creature.

If I could come back again as an animal…  I think I’d like to be a dog.  But only if I could pick my family.  I’d love to be a dog in a house with children.  I’d like very much if my primary responsibilities were doling out love and making funny faces.  That sounds like a helluva way to live.

Long before I was a mother, I had a baby.  Here he is the week we brought him home.

Dear Fisher,

I miss you every damn day.  I know you’re happy at the beach.  And I know you’re where you belong.  But I know the smiles that you’d have brought to Emily’s life would have just grown exponentially.

The last time I was at your house I snapped this picture really quickly and it makes me smile.  You’re smiling.

You are always smiling.  I look at your face now and I think “where the hell did you get those gray hairs?”  This is much the same way I feel when I look at my own face.  So many nights I held your sweet face in my hands and wept.  Did you know that everyone thinks you stink like “dog” but I think you smell like Fritos.  Perhaps that salty smell is all the tears you absorbed in your youth.  Or maybe it is the ocean that is so deep in your mangy ass that it will never come clean, no matter how many times you’re sprayed with a hose in the driveway.  Either way, I think you smell delicious.  Just like Fritos.

Love,

Kel

Yeah… if I can come back…  I wanna be a dog.  My dog, to be exact.

I love this. I was pleasantly surprised to see that their were a few things on the list that I realized I really ought to add to my “bucket list.” And really very few I ruled out. I’m a try Anything Once, Never Say Never kinda gal…. so this was a fun exercise.

So to begin-

Things I will Never Do Before I Die:

Go to Heaven – Can’t go if you don’t believe in it

Become insensitive to Suffering – This just goes against the grain of who I am. I don’t see this ever happening, unless I get a lobotomy.

Become Pope – Nah. I don’t think you can become Pope against your will, so I can comfortably say this won’t happen.

Smoke a Cat – Until it got to the “cat” part I was ready to say “yup, already tried it.” But nope, I won’t be smoking a cat for pleasure. And if i had to eat one, I’m fairly sure I’d BBQ.

Become a Muslim or a Christian – Nope. Just can’t wrap my mind around either belief structure.

Catch that bird that pooped on you – Every time I have ever been pooped on by a bird I get hysterical, like laughing beyond any ability to continue riding my bike, walking, carrying on a conversation. I’m certain I’d not be able to keep it together to attempt to catch it.

Lose Your Mojo – Again, goes against the grain of who I am. If there’s one thing i’m certain I’m not letting go of… it’s my mojo.

Get fired for being truculent – I wish. I am non-confrontational by nature. And nearly spineless in a work setting. So, truculent? I don’t see it.

Change astrological signs – Nope. I’m a Taurus through and through.

Rule the World – No thanks. I am barely interested in being in charge of myself.

Things I never Realized I Wanted to Do Until I Considered the Possibility of Never Doing Them &/Or Things I’d DO If Given The Chance But Would Not Make my Life’s Mission:

Volunteer for a dangerous mission – Yes, please. I’d love to think there was something only I could do that woudl help people. This is kind of how I view getting pregnant, actually. A wild, potentially dangerous mission that only you can accomplish.

Loop the loop – I’d love to fly a plane. And I’d really, really love to loop the loop in a little open cockpit bi-plane.

Crush grapes with your bare feet – I’m ashamed of this. Watching Housewives of Dc the other day I was reminded of watching the I Love Lucy episode where they stomp grapes. I really, really wanna do this. I desperately wanted to be Lucille Ball as a little girl. She was funny, she was wild and free to be exactly who she was without any apologies. And best of all, Ricky loved her madly, not in spite of her foibles, but because of them.

Understand Einstein – Yup. I wish I had some time to devote to understanding higher scientific principles.

Have Sex With your Clone – Are you kidding? To be clear this is technically masturbating but with a live human being, right? ummm… perfect.

Get drunk on denatured alcohol – Just so I can say got blind drunk… if I was sure I wouldn’t die, and if I knew already I was going to go blind…. then yeah. sure, why not? It would make a helluva story at cocktail parties.

I learned a little bit about myself doing this. I have a better idea of who I am than I give myself credit for. The only things I could comfortable say I’d never do are things that really go against the very definition of Kelly. Hmm. Good challenge.

Today’s challenge was to barter for something.  I had prepared another response to this barter challenge, but was negligent in getting it written up…  and then yesterday something happened that was really quite possibly the biggest offer of a barter to the Universe I may have ever offered.

So here goes….

Dear Universe,

Today I offer you one used IUD.  In addition to my used IUD I will provide daily temp readings and diligently record my fertile periods in the hopes of carefully tracking my luteal phase.  In return I ask one very small thing.  Please do not let me get pregnant any time in the next 8 months.  May 1, 2011 sounds good to me.  A perfect day to get knocked up.  I haven’t really asked a lot of you, Universe.  For the most part I try to take responsibility for myself.  But for this one small thing…. I know I need you behind me, if you’re out there.   Please, forgive me, Uterus, whom I have scraped with creepy copper arms for the last four and a half years.  I am giving you almost eight months to get back in fighting shape.  I promise I will feed you good food, and probiotics and folic acid and everything you could possibly ask for … if you’ll give me just one more chance.  To grow just one more…. but not yet.  Please.. ..

Mr. McGuire: I want to say one word to you. Just one word.

Benjamin: Yes, sir.

Mr. McGuire : Are you listening?

Benjamin : Yes, I am.

Mr. McGuire : Plastics.

Benjamin : Just how do you mean that, sir?

Good question.  Today’s challenge was to make a no-obligation appointment with a plastic surgeon and find out what they think you could stand to improve.  This is a recipe for disaster even for a person with HUGE self-esteem to spare.  For me?  I might as well go lay down in traffic.

I could write for ages about how my pregnancy and Em’s birth changed how I felt about my body.  But so many women already have…. If you’ve never read The Shape of  a Mother, I think it should be required reading.  A peace can be found in discovering that you’re not the only one. And after that peace, if you’re lucky, comes a sense of pride.

Sometimes I think about the difference between plastic surgery and tattoos…  I am content to adorn my body with images, an artist’s work… and I guess those women and their plumped up lips might think they are sporting another’s artistry.  But I can’t wrap my mind around it.  It’s not for me.   So for now… I’ll not be taking Mr Mcguire’s advice.  Check back with me in a decade.

Today’s challenge was to exhibit a sense of patriotism.  While I am “Proud to Be an American” I must admit I didn’t realize I was born south of the Mason-Dixon line until I was almost twelve year’s old.  Growing up in Northern Virginia renders you somewhat cut off from the rest of the United States, oddly.  So close to our nation’s capital I was raised on national politics and the “big picture” and somehow missed the boat altogether on small town americana, apple pie and lemonade stands.

Whenever I think of “Patriotism” I am reminded of elementary school and how disturbing I found the Pledge of Allegiance to be.  The inclusion of the phrase “under God” in the definition of being an American has bothered me since I was old enough to know what it meant.  If I am not “under” any “God” am I still American?  Too big a question for me to contemplate in this time where Americans are being disallowed their religious freedoms left and right…

So, I’ll leave you with this… long before 9/11 I knew I was an American.  A little girl sang “This is My Country” on television  on January 28, 1986.  It made me cry.  We were watching the news in school.  I was ten years old.  Something about that simple little song and the way that little girl sang it as though it was the only thing in the world she knew to be true… it really moved me.  So when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded a couple of minutes later… I was already crying.

Meh.  This is another page in the book with the goal of driving traffic to the website, i am afraid.  And yet, it is an amusing challenge.

It kind of reminds me of  a significantly less awesome version of Shelley Jackson’s Ineradicable Stain.  Shelley Jackson, a Brooklyn based writer, wrote a short story, “Skin.”  It is 2095 words long and then she placed an open call for applicants.  One word at a time her story will be tattooed on 2095 people in her chosen font.  And only the 2095 partcipants will ever get to read her full short story.  Very clever.

This, the longest iambic pentameter poem ever.  Eh.

“Mercy, cried the popinjay to the pope”

Your clatter’s near as false as mine, you see.