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Posts Tagged ‘postaday2011’

I am at a loss as to what to say about the recent tornadoes that carved a path of destruction throughout north Alabama. Our home is fine, but I have the same feeling that I had after multiple hurricanes took aim at Mobile, Alabama, when we lived there: It’s as if Mother Nature has drawn a bead on me and the people I care about.

But whining and worrying don’t do anybody any good, and they’re both really just luxuries when my own home remains standing. There are entire communities of people and animals that need help, and helping others can be so exhausting that you don’t have the energy to wallow in your own fears.

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This New York Times story on the non-standard sizing of women’s clothes pretty much outlines why I hate shopping for clothes.

I have literally four different sizes of clothing in my closet. I can try on two pairs of pants, in the same brand, make and size but in two different colors, and one pair will be ridiculously large or small. I rarely order clothes online because I dread the trip to UPS or the post office to return the items that don’t fit.

I can reliably buy the same size jeans every time at Gap. Everywhere else is a circus of ill-fitting clothes, and it’s almost like taking on a second job sorting through them all to find something that fits.

Grrr.

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Successful weekend: Overloaded on Doctor Who reruns, saw Source Code (because I am apparently a total Duncan Jones fangirl), researched apocalyptic science fiction and had Easter calzones.

I seem to be living the idealized life of a nerdy 12-year-old boy. And it’s rather awesome.

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Ah, the Easters of yesteryear, when parents dressed and primped their children for church like prize hogs at the county fair.

I recall that this dress was not as itchy as other Easter dresses I was subjected to.

I still think that a plaid vest calls for a bow tie, whether you’re a toddler, a time lord or a literature professor.

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This is Cocoa. Just looking at her, you wouldn’t guess that she scared the Easter bunny away one year.

My brother and I woke up early that Sunday morning, expecting to find full Easter baskets on the dining room table and undoubtedly making plans to skirt the no-candy-before-breakfast rule. Alas, there were no full baskets. There were no baskets at all.

I don’t remember if we woke Mom up or if she stumbled out of the bedroom around the same time, but I do know that she thought pretty quickly for somebody who had just woken up. She immediately shuffled us back into a bedroom, explaining that Cocoa had barked at the Easter bunny and he was afraid to come in, but was waiting outside.

Five minutes later, we were released to find our baskets filled with candy.

I don’t remember if I bought the story — at one point I started having doubts about such things but didn’t let on because, hey, free candy. I do remember that we weren’t mad at Cocoa; instead, we were a little proud.

Hell YEAH the Easter bunny was scared of our dog.

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Pinkeye? Really, springtime cold? This is your next move?

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Some people would call these Carrot Cake Balls, not Carrot Cake Truffles. These people are also desperately trying to come up with a reason to make a batch.

Once again, Serious Eats completely undermines my low-sugar eating plan.

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Oh, Internet. Without you, how would friends ever let me know that Yumbot Robot Cupcake Molds exist? Not to even mention Rabbit Ears Salad Servers.

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Days of Our Lives

Two people, working at home, in offices that are side by side. One likes to have a ham sandwich during a quiet, thoughtful lunch, while the other likes to surf the waves of Internet hilarity while dutifully downing leftovers.

They take turns playing butler for the resident cat.

Will it work?

Doesn’t it have to?

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When I was in first grade, I spent almost the entire school year battling recurring bouts of strep throat.

I don’t know how much effort anyone put into researching the cause of these continual infections (paging Dr. House); all I remember is going back to the doctor again and again to have my throat swabbed and get another round of pink, icky-sweet, chalky liquid antibiotic.

The source of the strep bacteria was revealed after school let out for the summer: When my teacher underwent some pre-surgery blood tests, she discovered that she was carrying the bacteria. No symptoms. No clues, except for one otherwise healthy little girl missing a lot of school — and not being altogether that unhappy about missing school.

I still attribute the ultimate demise of my tonsils to this epic battle with the strep bacteria. (And I don’t hold a grudge against Mrs. Buffington. I DO hold a grudge against the series of doctors who, over the next 14 years, refused to consider taking my tonsils out as they slowly rotted away.)

You obviously can’t launch a full-fledged medical investigation of everyone your child comes into contact with (although, again, Dr. House seems to get away with such antics quite frequently), but the link seems obvious now. I don’t even know that anyone could make the connection today — although I do imagine that such a discovery today would involve litigation.

No matter how careful you are, or how protective you are of your children and loved ones, there’s always one thing that you don’t see coming. Expect the unexpected. And insist that the tonsils come out NOW.

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