thoughts on prayer and church

It's funny to me when I find out something matters to me that I didn't realize was important. The grandies are teaching Molly to say grace before meals with her arms folded in front of her. It looks like Jeannie before she flicks her ponytail to cast a spell. That reference should amuse me, but it Does Not. It really bothers me in some protective loyal place that they're teaching her to pray in a different position than I do. Whether I'm praying to Mary Queen of Heaven or Innanna Queen of Heaven or Dionysos or Pan or Demeter, I pray with my hands touching or as clasped as they can clasp. It's a very Christian pose, but it's how my mama prayed and her mama, and her mama, backwards for nearly damn ever. It's funny the way some of the trapping of Christianity, especially Catholicism, really resonate with me. Rosaries and genuflecting feel really powerful and beautiful to me, and I'm deeply sweetly in love with Mary. Jesus is peachy keen too, but he doesn't give me the awe thing.

It pisses me off (at myself) that I've found myself addressing spirituality in a defensive way. It really hadn't occurred to me to start creating little rituals with Molly this young, but the tiny thing of her mimicking their prayer shakes me up. I started a bedtime prayer with her and we'll start lighting a chalice and saying mealtime grace.

I felt the same sort of shame-on-me feeling when a coworker and I discussed the grandies' religion. She asked me a bout UUism and I did the crazy new UU thing where we flounder and start defining it by process of elimination and not explaining anything at all. I felt like a shit, who represents my church as a bunch of flakey new agers who piecemeal a religion. I need to get more active now. It's a challenge with the Wild One but just going and listening to the children's stories is good. Just being there is good.

This all stirs up worry though. Will raising a pagan UU kid be so out there in WV? Will we fight with the grandies over the(o/a)logy? Will it confuse her to confront the differences in her mom's UU faith and her grandparents LDS church and most everyone else around being Protestant? I don't ever want to teach her that the Goddess stuff is hush hush but I foresee family or school freaking out a little possibly a lot when they hear my little one talk about many Gods or my someday-tween looking forward to her menarche initiation.

We'll work it out. I do have some pagan mama friends I can reach out to; I'm not alone. I'm daydreaming about making a kids' book for pagan bebes. Fun art, prayers, stories. Would be very sweet.

this is my new book. old stories new pages.

I feel a kind of loud, heavy aloneness. Angry at the universe that took my mama away and is leaving little holes in Grandma's memory and sense. Bitter that I have to mother the baby to sleep while Bu has beers and music at friends'. I said it was OK; didn't know the house would start to shrink around me and I'd feel like I have lead for blood. No more words, just enough energy to scratch my initials in the ether. Reach out to the air with disembodied half expressed thoughts.

Say, I'm here, feeling sluggish and clogged and un-everything, and this is my reality this moment. Dear diary. Dear electronic penpals. Dear other tired moms and Dads:

I'm tired, I'm worried, and I'm scared kind of. I know this, the paralyzing nothing in my hands and toes and mirror. It's worse than the shaking buzzing panic, but it's better than it was when I was half my age and I first felt it. Better because I know I can breathe through it and never lose my center. Better because a tiny child's cry will pierce it in an hour or a few and I'll be a little satellite around her and the tiny new world of her will be my gravity. Better because my husband who has lovely laughter etched around his eyes will come and he will act a monkey fool to make me smile. I have milk to feed my daughter and I can't stuff my holes with drink and pills and we'll all be OK this time. I have a new book, with daisies not demons and people to read it. They leave me notes like little folded greeting cards and they make me know the isolation is in my head where it always was. I know myself better, inside out, and I'm knowing my world and letting it spin. Light after dark, always. Always.

dear "kick ass kundalini" googler

I need some too. Did you find any? Can you share? My xi/prana/inner daisiness is just sitting here. Sad, crappy, colorless. Grey Street day.

meme for the bored

Stolen from Bine. Can't bear to think or be productive, yet not sleepy.

wow: exhausting, worried week

My Grandma has had a couple of TIA mini-strokes. Seems to be having a lot of trouble with recent memories and her perception of time. She tried to take her medicine (diabetes stuff and Aricept for dementia/possible earloy Alzheimer's) twice- eep.

bored now

I'm so very bored right now, with my little family asleep, and my IM buddy lists all empty, that I'm trolling a Tool fan forum reading lyrics and amateur psychoanalysis analysis of MJK's brain. So bored, in fact, that when the discussion somehow landed on whether or not breastmilk tastes vanilla (alarmingly, by way of a much-debated possible Oedipus complex,) that I almost registered a user name just to tell the other Toolgeeks that my breast milk definitely is not vanilla flavored.  

It's a shame, since I'm (shockingly) discussing nursing, that I can't get stoned out of my mind to grok this newest album. (Do we still say 'album'?)

*Sigh* It was only a matter of time before the Tool posts intersected with the milk posts. 

vivid crazy wow goddess dream

Dream last night, and I'll warn you, it gets kinda sexy. And scary. Somewhat weird. *g*

Starts in a cool house, totally a house-lust dream. Huge kitchen. Two refrigerators, and somehow it's in the moment of looking through the kitchen for food, and finding some oatmeal with nuts and honey stuff that the dream switches gears.

trying evening

...In which I learned that the fast, concentrated spray setting on my shower head is not just for masturbation, it's also useful for forcing residual baby shit through the grate over the bathtub drain.

 Yep, we had a Code Brown. Fun.

My household also saw the first use of chlorine bleach by me in over two years:) Oh, no wait: there was a toilet cleanage of critical ickiness. Meh.

Also, the Birdy snatched a muchroom off my plate. My brother's crazy allergic, so I was keeping her away from them. Spent all evening listening to her breathing and watching for hives. Fun fun fun. Good news is bedtime has consistently been between 7:30 and 8:30 for a week at least. She wakes about every hour and half until I lie down with her but still, it rocks. 

mountain = mama

 No, I haven't finished The To-Do List That Ate Seneca Rock, but I wanted to make a quickie post and then wanted to add a photo from Bu's recent WV adventures in landscape photography, and then I had to play in Photoshop because it is teh crack.

I kinda lurv my silly design. I'd buy it in sticker or T-shirt form. Need to do the Zazzle or Cafe Press thing. Anyone have experience? I've heard Cafe Press's merchandise is poorly made. Zazzle seems to be less friendly for shop owners maybe. Thoughts? Experiences?

I'm all over the mountain mama thing these days, y'all.

1. Have had Carrie Underwood's truckbashing anthem of Redneck Grrl Justice, Before He Cheats, stuck in my head for weeks. Weeks! It is awesome. I love the flow of the lyrics. The rhythm of them is just yum. And while I certainly am not the country music fan, I have to disclose that the few songs I do like are really fun to sing because in my voice/twang everything sounds like country anyway. Seriously. It's like Hay-uhd Lahk a Howuhl Y'all when I sing Nine Inch Nails. OK, not that bad. On the scale of twang in the region, I'm low. But it is there. It's more pronounced when I sing or am drunk. *g*

2. I conceded to Bu that his occasional use of um, holler dialect is permissable and will henceforth be a respected cultural tradition that I will no longer correct because a) it is bitchy and condescending, and b) I'm addictedish to the Buffy slanguage-y goodness and get all inventy with my words so it's the same diff. Not that I totally adopted this from Buffy per se. My friend (and proudly loudly self-proclaimed Redneck Woman) who saw it the first time said "They talk like you!" Heh. Me and Joss? We're soooo tight.

3. I have a horse ranch logo to design and I'm itchin' to use some cool western fonts I have had for ages but never needed. Fun. Also working on a quilting and crafts company's site.  Again with the fun fun fonts.

OK, I'm fixin' to work now, really.  

good gay news

Thank you Accuradio>>Flock of Eighties>>No Metal. This is the first time I've heard It's Raining Men outside of a gay bar. FYI, in WV, it does rain men in the gay bars. Cute girls? Yes but considerably fewer. At least that was true in the days before my hugely pregnant breastfeeding constantly too-busy-with-toddler-to-party ass was still going out occasionally.

Join me, people who live on my Blogroll, in a collective w00t for Charleston, WV: the city added sexual orientation to anti-discrimination laws.

incommunicado

Hullo.

I have eleventy-million projects to get through; will be refraining from reading/writing teh blogs until I finish some stuffs. See you next week with a sense of accomplishment and photos of my new cooler-but-streak-free hair.

the first flutters

 Text reads: When I first felt her tiny, fluttering movements I named her Mollybird, as if she had wings shaking me from the inside. My entry for a First Something in the Pulsate Olympics. I wasn't going to enter, but Bine's erntry inspired me. Go see.

garden

Due to the aforementioned disgusting LJ behavior, lots of peeps are abandoning ship. So it goes with my girl:

Heidi (The Coolest Heidi in Europe, and co-holder of The Awesomest Heidi in The World title with some spazzy blogger who likes to call herself Daisy. Or Roxy. Or whatever the hell pseudonym she's half-assing these days) is down with the movement and has started a lovely new blog, Hortus Deliciarum.

She's smarter than I am a little, so I had to beg Wikipedia to explain:

Hortus deliciarum (Garden of Delights) is a medieval manuscript compiled by Herrad of Landsberg at the Hohenburg Abbey in Alsace. It was an illuminated encyclopedia, begun in 1167 as a pedagogical tool for young novices at the convent. It was finished in 1185, and was one of the most celebrated illuminated manuscripts of the period.^[1] The majority of the work is in Latin, with glosses in German.

Here is a picture: It's the Wheel of Fortune. Cool, huh? I love medieval illuminations. I could look at alchemical texts and diagrams all day.

But, yeh, Heidi? She's fucking incredible. She's a mom who writes so openly about her experience with a really high-needs little one that it inspires awe. Yay for self-hosted, er really dear friend-hosted WordPress bloggies:)

anorexia: better than slashy fanfic?

There's kind of a mass exodus at LiveJournal in the wake of a witchhunt in fanfiction communities and promotion (or at least sanctioning) of some disgusting pro-anorexia communities. Oh, my Goddess:

 I felt so intimidated and piggish.  I had to keep touching my bones to make sure they hadn't disappeared while I was walking.  Does anyone else do that?  You see someone who looks way better than you and then to reassure yourself you touch your collarbones or count your ribs over your shirt?  I felt like I was doing that constantly.  Luckily they didn't disappear, but it worried me so much.  I'm glad that my collarbones stick out so much 'cause along with touching them, I could look at my reflection in windows and see them and then I felt better.  I guess I never realized how much I loved my bones. 

/vomit.

You know what? After reading more posts and links, I'm having some mixed feelings. One poster described the community as a safe place for anorexics who aren't ready to recover to say whatever they want/need to, uncensored. I certainly understand the need to reach out without fear of judgement. It's hard to understand, though... having been diagnosed with an eating disorder (the compulsive overeating kind) and kind of shrugging it off. I'm not powerless to rethink my diet choices, but at the same time I do overeat often for non-hunger reasons, and do it even as I'm thinking how gross it is. If I do have an eating disorder, it's mild and on the opposite end of the spectrum- so this mindset is so foreign.

tv free life

...It is boring. We have been reading (Bu & I) The Plug-In Drug. I bought it to pass along to Papaw, but I'm sure it'll be just as helpful to him as the stack of right-wing books of his that sat beside my shitter being ignored for several months. It's fascinating, and validates my TV worry. So we have reinstated our no-tube-if-Molly's-in-the-room-rule. She still watches (well, not actively) 20+ hours at the grandies' each week. That seems kind of obscene now that I count it. She's starting to watch it more intently, definitely. I don't know what to do about reducing her screen time there; it's a really ingrained habit in Papaw's life. I think that having her in a loving family home instead of daycare outweighs the TV time, though.

I was feeling for Papaw yesterday, though. I was bored. The Bird was very fussy and wanted to be held constantly and nursed a lot. Would have been pretty fun to plop down in front of the Style Network and veg out. But when I do, and I see her zone into the commercials, it wigs me out. So we hung out, and it was OK. The adjustment from sort of worrying but watching anyway to zero TV is weird. It's sort of disturbing to me to realize how much I depend on teh mindcrack. I also got really annoyed when Bu went upstairs to watch something and the baby and I were in another room for quite a while. Felt like he was picking TV over us, but he was just following my rule. As the Boue gets older and can play alone more, it'll probably be cooler. I can read, sketch, whatever while she plays. Maybe actually be able to get housework done without her screaming with her little demanding hands up every single second.

omg wtf aaargh

*Update* I did totally fine, remembered to breathe and everything. Then came back to work and submitted my time sheet, estimated my check amount with the new hourly rate, and swooned with glee: sooo worth it. 

If you want to read the original freak-out, feel free:)

sketchbook pages

My favorite part?
"Every book before this book was a prologue."

inspire :: DNA

Inspire Me Thursday's topic this week is Uniqueness/DNA. My first impulse was to repost my digital art piece which features a latticework of DNA.  Then I thought I'd repost this image about my birth defect. Then I decided I'd just link back to that (as I realized it wasn't imported to the WordPress blog) and post the pregnant image. I keep forgetting and re-remembering that I'd made this. (I don't have any prints of my own; I paid my doula with the one framed print I'd displayed at an art show.)

It occurs to me now that I could maybe create some digital pieces or altered digital pieces for that show in October. I've only very tentatively and quietly created real digital work, haven't really emraced the medium as Fine Art (versus Graphic.) Time- and money-wise, it's probably the best bet to actually follow through and create a small series for the show. It's still costly, though: printing and framing.  If we can get caught up a little on bills, borrow what's left  I'll worry about making the art now; buying materials will follow.

 This was the one piece of intentional, "fine" art I made while I was pregnant. It's called MotherLine. It was a pencil drawing, scanned in and painted in Photoshop then duplicated and layered with the (really beautiful) latticework of DNA I pieced together. I love the DNA in it- definitely my favorite part.

how much of our parenting style comes from our parents?

I just found Girl's Gone Child- she has a post recalling that her earliest memories are of nightmares. She says she remembers waiting in her bed for her mom or dad to scoop her up and put her in between them, safe and cozy in their bed. She writes, then, about her little one crying for her from his crib, and her memories flooded back. Reading that, I reacted with two emotional responses and it occurred to me that they're probably deeply linked.

all these birthdays!

 E-card for Vivian, 'Dora's Four Year Old Girl Baby:) Too tired to downsize, so clicky:) Lots of love, mama & Viv!

studio progress * squee!

I'd be so ecstatic right now if I weren't completely zombie-fied on Benadryl. (Dust is  The Devil. My day was (except for the sneezing hysterics and itchy red eyes) sublime. Zha Boue was adorable for her surrogate Grandma, my mom's sister and my favorite aunt. We don't get to hang enough with our work schedules, so it was a treat to spend the afternoon together. Then Princess PinkToes took a wicked long nap and we took her to the grandies for the night. Bu's been practicing his bass and I've been Pow!Pow! Superwomaning the studio mess. 

So, it's functional, albeit piled up and cluttered. But there is actual surface to work on the drafting table.

Got so giddy I had to scribble a big ol' honkin' daisy on the wall. New essential symbol of me, apparently.  It's good. Freshness and simplicity and spring things. And the blog has been a great tool for expression...

i heart gay moms

It's a damn good thing I didn't know Sara Gilbert is gay, because if I had, I'd have never settled for a mere male and would have stalked her until she caved. (I kid; my Bu's gender is peachy and hetero marriage is lovely. Unless Maggie Gyllenhaal ever decides she is open to a relationship with a chunky funky mama with stretch marks, tattoos, and an Appalachian twang.)

That's what I get for getting crushes on actresses but not caring enough to read celebrity gossip rags. But, anyway: Sara's a new mom again. w00t!

Speaking of le gossip, if you're in the mood for some, check out the clean and yummy design of Scandelirious, my friend's new site. She's a massive visual talent, is Miss Emily.

the holy grail of not-mom-hair

The dream 'do. It is hot. It is lurv. I am saving cash as of this moment for an unfrumpification makeover. Now I'm going to crash, and thus endeth the post-a-thon.

toes

I am not thrilled with the grandies, but I am coping:)

Not like they pierced her ears or cut her hair.

the studio mess

thestudiomess, originally uploaded by mollybird.

This is the legendary mess. After I worked on it for two days. I exposed floor! Look closely at the last photo:) Hopefully, there will be progress later this weekend to post.

hair

After the Neicy love, I thought it might be really cool to have a daisy hair clip (to wear with some cool streaks to temper the sweetness) and I found these:

http://www.cliponflowers.com/index.asp?PageAction=VIEWCATS&Category=14 One in every color would be nice.

I'm daydreaming about an asymmetrical punkish-but-soft cut with subtle dark brown or black streaks. Does Manic Panic make semi-permanent black? Is that work appropriate at all? I am jonesing so bad for something funky, anything. New tattoo, cool hair, whatever. I clearly am wasting time at this point, so I'm popping off the net.

dear diary

Inspire Me Thursday's "Dear Diary" prompt made me pine for the art journal I want to start the moment my studio's ready. It's such a powerful ritual, clearing that space. (I tossed into the creek some dried flowers that Mom had recieved in the hospital. It was incredible-like sympathetic magick- as I purge the junk in the room I'm decluttering my headspace too. The sense of ownership I'm getting in the room is helping to bolster my confidence to get back in the creative mode.

new artsy peeps

Welcome to the daisybones Blogroll:

the wish jar
dragonfly for a poet
girl gone feral

Read this post, and be prepared for an emotional jolt. It hurts. And in keeping with the artistic theme, let me say...

voodoo cookies

The two coolest things I saw yesterday: a friend who had a voodoo doll at lunch that was given to her in celebration of a break-up, and cookies that were handed out as refreshments at the governor's proclamation about brestfeeding. The cookies were those ones with a chocolate kiss in the middle? Totally looked like boobs: I died of amusement. Still not sure if that was intentional, but if it was, it was bloody brilliant.

ads: blog whores or business savvy mamas?

Just out of curiosity, what you y'all think about ads & affiliates on blogs? I have mixed feelings. I totally get the people who think they're trashy on a personal blog and that it undermines the integrity of the personal expression. On the other hand, I very, very! much support any mompreneurs and WAHMs cashing in on their creativity. 

intuition & conflict

So I unveiled a Genius Plan for gently tweaking Molly's eating patterns. It dawned on me that she sleeps through with one waking for a sippy when she spends the night at the grandies', so I'm recruiting them for back-to-back sleepovers this weekend. (Yes, this is making a daring assumption that I can stand two nights away. I may crash on their couch Saturday night.)

annoyance in the land of milkies

I've been online seeking out my nursey peeps for advice about night weaning. My intuition's sending me mixed messages. I think the Birdy's still reverse-cycling, meaning she gets the bulk of her calories at night rather than daytime. That was fine when she was only breastfed but it occured to me that maybe she doesn't get that she should eat food during the day. I wonder if she would eat better if she wasn't tanking up all night.

At the same time I have really planned on letting her set the pace for weaning and scheduling. Also, night time milk is higher in fat and calories. What to do...

For my part, I'm getting this icky restless fidgety anxiety when we're nursing in the wee hours. I'm curious to see what info my gurus will offer. Anyone wanna throw down with the mommy advising?

happy birthday!

Hey, Zoe! Happy Birthday:) OhmyGoddess could you look any more like your mom? :)



Pop over to So Anyway... and wish Eden & Zoe & family another good day, and see the precious precious newborn photos! *heartmelt*

well tie me up and beat my britches:

My Goth name is: bitch slave. No capitals, because bitchslaves don't deserve capital letters. That's my first try. When I pulled mistress of pleather hotness rank decided I'd try again, I got Bloody Kisses and a promotion to actual proper noun punctuation. *g* If I were really bored and also knew more coding, I'd make a hippygoth name generator with results like Granola Melancholy, Crunchy McAngstridden, or Rainbow Deathraven.  Heehee. Sunshine Gravedust. Moonbeam Widow-Weeper. This is too much fun.

A quick Daisy factoid: When I was first getting into Wicca I used the magickal name Ivy. I now use my regular given name in rituals because I really like it, my mama gave it to me, and magickal names now seem sillyish. To me.

Whew! I've just had waaayyy to much fun googling images to include in this post, but will refrain from stepping into NSFW or kids territory:)

contest winners

Remember when I promised to mail doodles to whoever made me laugh most? It's taken me eleventy thousand years to get around to it, but I have decided there are three winners. Lexie of This Wabi-Sabi Life sent a great priest/minister/rabbi joke, Bine from  Sleepless in Cologne told me about some boys with gutter brain, and Coffee Betsy, who didn't even enter wins anyway because she actually made my day by referencing the late great and (therefore quite regrettably) formerly immortal Anya Christina Emanuella Jenkins Harris (You don't care if you're not a Buffy obsessed fangirl) in an email.

So my family has crashed, and I'm up- at least until my benadryl kicks in. My right eye has inexplicably decided to swell and itch today. The left one's just phoning it in: no swelling but itchy. With sudden free quiet time, I'm picking up my Sharpie and doodling. Email me your addresses, chicas. I'll mail doodlies sometime. Read on for Lexie's joke.

don't try to kill your time / you might do it

I'm trying an adapted FlyLady strategy: I'm setting timers: In 45 minutes I cleared a whole bookcase, (still 90% keepers and 10% give away- I can't let go of my babies books) moved bookcase to bedroom, dusted DVD's and put in case, hung some art. Go me.  In 15 shit! 20 fuck...30 oh bloody hell, 45 minutes I completed my allotted netjunkie time. Next up: 45 minutes of logo tweaks for client, then yay! 45 more on the house, which is where my heart really lives today. I'm making mad progress, and I may well get a bulk of my studio mess sorted. In a couple of weeks max I can be working on art in a clean neat creative temple of daisiness;)

Part of my online time killing spree: survey from oldest BFF, which I'm posting for your enlightenment. Because if you had to go all day without learning my favorite TV show as a kid your day would clearly be ruined.

the strangest heart i've ever felt

Dream last night:

Bu and I have traveled to Alabama to stay w/ Lexie. The house is long and narrow. Very light in space and aura.

Her whole family is there; it’s a mad zoo. Her dad, granddad, cousins. I feel overwhelmed by them all. They all look like M’s family with his dark wavy hair. Remy = adorable! There is a very complicated diapering with small cut-outs pinned individually into his pants. Emsy likes him. She has a cousin who seems to hate me but then warms up; He reminds me of my step brother, to whom I have never really warmed.

Lexie, her grandfather, M, Bu, maybe more, are all in a line with their hands on each other’s hearts doing some kind of divination or energy reading. I join in with Lexie’s hand on my heart. She looks interested, like concerned-interested. “What is it?” I ask. “This is the strangest heart I’ve ever felt.” I say something along the lines of “Well, it may well have a whole extra chamber. Who the hell knows with this body. I have missing parts, extra parts…”

The end. What a weirdly unsetting but poetic phrase. I woke with it resonating in my mind. I may have to wait ages for Alexis to come back from California to hear her reaction. (Do they have net access where you're staying?)

rock on, NYC & my office:)

Happy Boobie news for World Breastfeeding Week:

The Ban the Bags campaign had an awesome victory in NYC's banning of free formula distribution. The buzz about the new regulations had lactivists, pissed off working moms, and my office* chattering. A coworker is annoyed- "What's next, she wondered, not allowed to feed kids junk food?" I'm (of course) thrilled, because, as I told her, it's a step toward normalizing breastfeeding. I think it's a great step in taking information control about infant feeding away from the formula corporations and placing it in the hands of doctors, nurses, and lactation consultants. I'm not even lying when I tell you that I had a pamphlet on getting started breastfeeding that was produced by Enfamil. Do you think that was accurate supportive educational material? Um, doubt it very much.

Now, I realize that by far most women are intelligent and capable of making informed decisions, and aren't just pod people following commands from Evil Nestle. But it definitely sends a message for a hospital or birth center to distribute these materials. It's a tacit affirmation of the message of the formula companies. My take on that message is this: "Formula feeding is normal and healthy, just not quite as healthy as breastmilk, but totally OK. And you might have trouble! A lot of moms can't nurse; so when you find you can't we got your back, girl." This doesn't seem too insidious and the low rates of nursing after the first few months seem to suggest that problems are pretty common. The truth is that there is evidence supporting the fact that these free samples do correlate with lower rates of breastfeeding. And the real statistics are fairly low for women who truly can't nurse; quick google search shows up with the number 5% but it's not attributed to a good source. To me, the more important issue is that having the samples around helps create the normalcy of artificial feeding. It tells a mom that everyone assumes you'll bottle feed, which means that it must be the norm.

And I'm not an idealistic crunchy cornflake who doesn't know what troubles can exist. Remember Boue has formula for two weeks while we got my milk built up with pumping and  medication. I had no trouble getting formula (free) when I asked for it. (By the way, they aren't banning formula in hospitals or telling you you can't bottle feed your child. You just have to ask for it.)

So, w00t NYC.

*A local breastfeeding support group asked for nominations for supportive employers, so I wrote in and my clinic's being honored. They're incredible**. Pumping breaks? Cool. Uh-oh, Emsy zha Boue won't drink EBM- long lunches to go nurse? Groovy. Papaw brings her for a visit & she wants to nurse while I answer phones? No problem.

 **My enthusiastic infatuation with work is in no way related to the gi-fucking-gantic raise the board just gave me. Not at all:) Plans to babysit a bunch of kids 5 days a week are officially filed under "desperate insanity.

Cutiepatootie nursey graphic from here.