This weekend we went to LB’s best friend’s second birthday party. It was wonderful. Friends, family, and LB and JB growing up together. *tear* Ahem. It was lovely, this is, until the husband’s dad’s girlfriend, from not-here, asked when I was due. “er.. Due?” I stammered. “What are you having?” she asks. “Having? For dinner?” “A girl or a boy?” “Oh, no, not right now. We’re.. uh.. not yet…” I try my best to hide both emerassment and... Read more
I’m a huge fan of women kicking ass. I think that’s why I love being in computer science. I’m all about women as a minority and rising above the stereotypes. I’m all about listening to some rockin’ song while I work out and pretending I’m GI Jane doing my one arm push-ups like any other man. I like being “the tough one” when I fall off my mountain bike (as I’m wont to do) and take a bump like it ain’t nothin’.
I’m also very very much faking it most of the time.
My Mom, Grandma and I were in Scotland on... Read more
Mr. Flinger knew I hated cooking when he married me. He was OK with this. Maybe I was alluring him with my pre-marital sex. Maybe it was my witty ways and good looks. (snort) Maybe it was my ability to separate darks from whites when doing the laundry. Whatever. He knew I ate bagels, cream cheese and an apple every day for lunch for three years. He married me anyway.
Now I’m all “grown up” and feeding your guests rice with a garden burger patty on it (with a side of salsa) just isn’t acceptable. Apparently, as a mom and a wife you’re supposed to cook?... Read more
We’re not just sex and farts here on Mrs. Flinger. We’re also about depth, and faith, and trying to get The Big Picture while cleaning cheerios off the kitchen floor spilt seconds before having to run to work. We have it all. So excuse the drastic topic change, but we’ve been talking about a few things…
Mr. Flinger and I have been contemplating harmony. It seems a topic we landed on a few days back and can’t seem to put our finger on exactly what we want to say to each other. We both understand one another without having to speak actual words, but being... Read more
You know how people always ask you what book you’d take on a desert island? You know how there’s always some jackass that says, “I’d take how to survive on a desert island.” You know how you’ll never-ever-ever have this possibility so you say something like, “Charles Dickens!” or “Ralph Waldo Emerson!” and you know you never have to actually follow through? Well, I had to make that choice, sordda, and I chose wrong. Very. Very. Wrong.
We’re now living in our “temporary housing” which means... Read more
We’ve been searching for a new home. Lately we’ve gone from “Ohh! hardwood floors! A Jacuzi tub!” to “Well, you can’t really see the seam if you don’t look too closely.” It’s not that I have too much pride to live in a double-wide, it’s just that, well, it’s a DOUBLE-WIDE. The thought of purchasing a home that some trucker guy had to pull over the side of the road with to take a leak does nothing for me. Mr. Flinger was looking at one such home when I said, “Yea, but it faces the wrong direction. No sun.”... Read more
LB isn’t sleeping well tonight. This is a relative sentence as she is a pretty good sleeper for the most part. When she was new, I swore she was doing herself no favors for a sibling because the child didn’t like naps, didn’t like sleeping period. I was dizzy from sleep deprivation and going more than a little nuts. I thought of pulling my ovaries out myself to prevent some freakish “ooops” accident (which I realize can’t happen unless you actually have sex so in reality, there was little worry. Little sleep also does nothing for the libido).
As... Read more
LB and I had a pretty good day. I joked once that naps are like mini-exorcisms. Yesterday Mr Flinger informs me that he’s so thankful for the ol’ Aunt Flo (isn’t that just the dumbest thing to call a menstrual cycle? seriously? But I do it, too. Oh, and I have a hayhay, thankyouverymuch. I’m mature like that.) Like I was saying, so thankful for the ol’ Aunt Flo because it’s an exorcism of sorts for the wifey. That... Read more
My field is dominated by men. As it is, I am not a man. I am a WOMAN. That’s right. I have raging hormones, breasts, a vagina and ovaries. Yes! I HAVE OVARIES. I want to scream this when I walk into the classroom and people think my IQ dropped 38 points because I require a bra. All that work on women’s rights and whatnot, it’s a farce. People still think we loose too many brain cells in our boob tissue when, obviously, it’s much more obvious how men’s brains suffer from blood flow to certain areas.
I am not a man basher by any... Read more
I will do anything for The Schedule. I am not a slave to The Schedule, but rather a willfull employee. I love The Schedule. The Schedule is god. The Schedule is high priestess. The Schedule is the driving force of life.
The Schedule is Mecca.
When we are using The Schedule, LB will wake up at 8ish, play nicely for an hour or two, begin to get pissy and challenging, go for a walk to Starbucks and the park, eat lunch, and nap at 1:00. She will sleep until 3 or 4, wake up and be joyful for an hour or two, begin to get pissy and challenging, go for a walk to the library or the... Read more