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If I could have, I certainly would not have chosen this particular form, given the bony ideal of our society.  Mine would have been taller, leggier, skinnier-armed.  But since I wasn’t consulted in the matter, and since I walk around in these curves every day, sleep with them every night and wake up with them again, I’ve had to make peace with them.  Consequently, I’ve come to think my body is quite lovely and womanly.
— Geneen Roth*

Today’s Writing Group prompt: Tell us about a skill (other than writing) that you’re currently working on building in your daily life.

So many.  Mostly, or most importantly, I’m working on my health habits.  This means that I’m trying to make making healthy choices a habit.  This means that I’m tracking my food intake and trying to pay attention to my hunger cues.  This means I’m going to the gym or otherwise exercising more days than not (right now it’s 4, so I’ll take it), even when I really don’t want to.  This means I’m learning to recognize that surge that happens after something stressful that automatically makes me think, “I must eat to fix this thing I don’t want to feel anymore, and don’t give me any of that carrot stick shit.”

This also means that I am exhausted.  And resentful.  And hungry. But I keep trying.

* I’m not there yet, but this kind of acceptance is what I strive for.

“Place settings (not plastic; all forks must have four prongs).”
– Van Halen 1982 tour rider, via The Smoking Gun

Today’s Writing Group prompt: Name 5 items you’d demand to have everywhere you went if you were famous enough to do so.

How fun is this?  I love to read the stars’ riders and I wonder if it’s really true that, for example, Jennifer Lopez demands an all-white dressing room, right down to the flowers, or whether there’s any truth to the “only ___ colored M&Ms” rumors I’ve heard about any number of people.  So, let’s see – what would I demand?

1. Cheese, obviously.  Lots of cheese (I’m a simple girl – cheddar, smoked Gouda, Swiss – nothing too smelly or soft) and assorted crackers.

2. Champagne.  Ever drink champagne straight from the bottle?  Try it – it’s SO fun.

3. Chocolate fountain with assorted things for dipping – pretzel rods, strawberries, marshmallows, graham crackers, etc.  I once went to a conference with one of these and a huge buffet of stuff to dip.  It was, uh, not my finest moment.

4. Massage table with warming device and a massage therapist on call.

5. Game room – ping pong, pool, air hockey, puzzles, board games, cards, etc. – fun for all ages!

(I write each day’s post without looking to see what others in the group have said so far so as to avoid any undue influence.  This was the first day I was sorely tempted to look first.  I didn’t, though, and so I suspect my list is a bit pedestrian, but I’m really looking forward to seeing what everyone else came up with!)

I’m not afraid of heights, but the idea of falling from them, well, that I’m afraid of.
–– from Cerulean Sins, by Laurell K. Hamilton

Yesterday’s Writing Group prompt is a visual one (I have no idea why it’s so small; click to enlarge):

I’m not a big fan of heights (though I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of them), so this kind of freaks me out.  It’s Photoshopped for sure, right?

I don’t know what it is; maybe because I’m clumsy and fear that I’d make one wrong move at the top there, trip over myself, and fall all the way down.  I do love scaring myself by thinking about it, though – that sinking feeling in my stomach imagining the free fall. But the crunch at the end makes me shudder.

I’d love to go skydiving.  Well, I say I’d love to, but I wonder if I’d chicken out before I ever got in the plane.  I think if I got in the plane and up in the air and strapped to the tandem guy, I’d do it for sure.  If I made it that far and chickened out, I know I’d regret it.  I know a bunch of people who’ve done it and they all say it’s amazing.  Maybe one day.  With a friend (David will never, ever go, and might disown me if I do).

(Sorry this is late and so lame.  Yesterday was my birthday so I was busy having a great day!)

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint. 
— Erma Bombeck

Today’s Writing Group prompt: Next to godliness, or just keeping yourself off of Hoarders?  Where do you fall on the cleanliness/organization spectrum?

Well.  I’m not that married to clean, so much as I am neat.  I actually actively dislike the idea of cleaning, especially dusting, though I love the end result.  But clutter makes me crazy, which means David often makes me crazy.  Look, I just took these pictures of our respective desks, no staging involved:

And so it goes.  If I took pictures of our dressers, the level of clutter would be comparable.  Basically, this is a thing I’ve just come to accept.  I more or less ask him to limit the clutter to these two areas (and his half of the closet) and keep the rest of the house clear, and that works for us.  When it starts to bother me, I remind myself that company doesn’t spend time in our bedroom and we can always close the door to the office if need be, and when it’s just us, who cares?  Relax, lady.

God made the world round so we would never be able to see too far down the road.
— from Out of Africa, by Isak Dinesen

Today’s Writing Group prompt:  If there was a tattoo ink that disappeared after exactly one year, what tattoo would you get today?

I don’t have any tattoos.  When I studied in Spain in college, my friend Lisa and I had appointments to each get a tattoo on her birthday.  We had gone in a few days beforehand to check the place out (on a recommendation from a local) and look through the books.  Lisa decided to draw her own, but I found the most perfect one ever for me.  It was two dolphins, one larger than the other.  The larger dolphin made the top of a half-circle and the smaller one was underneath, facing the other way with its nose close to the other’s belly. To me, it looked like a mother and baby.  Dolphins, to me, are nearly perfect creatures, and at the time, I thought, the most important (although not the only) thing a woman could be is a mother, so the tattoo seemed to marry those two ideas perfectly to my 19-year-old self.  I showed the owner the picture I’d chosen and she quoted me a price equivalent to about $60.  Then she marked us down in her book for a few days later with a notation about what I had picked.

When we came back, she went about her business, then pulled my picture out and said, “Ok, so this will be $110.”  I was basically broke all the time in Spain, and at nearly double the price she’d originally quoted me, I balked.  Lisa and I told her that’s not the price she’d said a few days before and it turned into an argument (in Spanish, because we were awesome) about how she only wrote down  “dolphin” instead of “dolphins,” and so obviously we were wrong.  Whatever.  In the end, I refused to pay what she was asking and she got nasty with us, so we both left tattoo-less.  It was a sad day (until we went out drinking and dancing that night).

A little more than  a year later, I had an appointment to get a very similar tattoo, drawn by a friend, at noon on my 21st birthday, but we all went out drinking at midnight the night before and I ended up sleeping through it and never rescheduled.

Since then, I’ve never really seriously considered getting a tattoo.  The only thing I can  ever see myself getting at some point in the (knock on wood) way distant future is a memorial tattoo in my Dad’s writing.

But, if I could get something that would disappear in one year?  Based on the madness I feel creeping in more and more often lately since I went off my anti-depressants in September to try to get pregnant, I’d pick “Hold on.”