Catching up

Seriously blog, I really didn't think I would spend less time with you but I guess that's what I get for thinking.  I'm not sure if it's because I have less time alone and I tell other people the things I used to write here or I always have homework to do which makes me feel like I shouldn't use my mental energy writing, or it's just a dry spell.  I come up with things on my walks with Baloo that perish before I can get inside to write them down.  Vignettes will have to do.

Corey

Corey moved in last week while I was ovulating.  Ovulation is a woman's beer goggles and in my advanced childbearing years, I swear on a puppy paw I've noticed a difference in how I look at men when I'm being drugged by my body to consider mating.  Corey has an action figure body and the first time I talked to him at length was in the elevator.  He was wearing combat boots, black cargo pants and a holster and I totally drank him in from the floor up.  It was almost harassment.  I kept running into him that night and by the time I went to bed, I had already texted my sister, e-mailed a friend, and wondered how he kissed.  I was on fire in class the next day, full of that radiant heat of possibility. My teacher said whatever he was doing to me, it was definitely good for my head. Less than a week later, he's dead to me and I couldn't be more pleased with myself.  If he's not the first guy, he's the first guy I can remember ever forcing out of my daydreams into my real life.  I'm an awesome daydreamer so naturally he didn't stack up but I still invited him over for dinner and got his number.  I got semi-dissed in that he stopped by for a plate only and didn't return the plate for 3 days but that's all good to know.  He made the dead to me list because of what he is, not because I imagined him out of contention.  And I lived even though he's not interested in me.

Babies

Is there anything better than someone else's baby?  I guess if you have kids of your own you might choose them over someone else's baby but since I don't have kids, someone else's baby is where it's at for me.  I love the potential of infants, the knowing them before they know themselves, the stupid joy that comes from seemingly figuring something out like their bowel movement face versus their about to get upset face.  They are an enigma wrapped in a riddle and they are tiny terrorists, bringing full grown rational accomplished adults to weeping and gnashing of teeth all before they are even aware they exist.  Babies are horrifyingly powerful and frighteningly fragile.  I'm sure if I ever have children, they will be a tremendous time suck and I will miss my life before them at the same time I become overwhelmed with how much I love them and how nothing in my life matters like the tiny non-person person who looks like me or their father torturing me through sleep deprivation and the mindless worry that plagues a fatigued mind.  That day may or may not come.  I've been passive on the subject of children as my biological window narrows.  If I'm honest, I'm probably distrustful of what God would allow/send if I forced the issue with reproductive medicine.  My sister is strangely bothered by my attitude.  She thinks I should have kids.  She's offered to carry them for me if I can't even though I never asked or expressed an interest in forcing the issue if nature's window closes.  That messes with my head a little bit every time she says something like that.  But sitting here, thinking through my to-do list with only me stuff on it, this is okay too.

Random

It angers me that Burn Notice is still on the air when no one I know has ever watched the show.  Saturday Night Live even did a sketch on it: