My Oprah-related theory...

For those of you who watch her show on a regular basis, pay attention to this little detail (only a diehard Oprah watcher would ever pick up on such a thing). When Oprah has your run-of-the-mill guest on telling their account of some amazing/horrific/incredible story, she always looks nice, great hair, great makeup, etc.

BUT

When Oprah has a celebrity on, or someone who has some sort of power or influence, she ALWAYS has fake eyelashes on. ALWAYS. She'll sometimes have them on for the average Joe Schmoe guest, but ALWAYS for people she views as important in entertainment or finance.

Give it a couple of weeks and test my theory. Get back to me.

A direct quote from my husband:

As said to my dog, Murphy, who had a Lego in his mouth at the time:

"Murphy, a Lego is a Lego. It is not a toy."

Here I thought that's why we'd bought them for Avery.

Getting your hair 'done' and getting pedicures/manicures/massages...

Are those events where you go to 'chat' with the person performing the service, or do you go to relax?

I personally go to relax. I don't want to sit and talk to my hairdresser for 2 hours. Sorry, but I just don't have that much to say to her. And we've been friends for like 12 or 13 years; she went to 'beauty school' after I met her.

Tonight, I went to the Minute Massage place near where Avery goes to Gymboree (on the way out of Gymboree I informed my husband that he'd be taking Avery home and I'd be going to get a massage). Once there, I had to wait for 25 minutes, so I soaked my feet and used this lavendar-filled heating pad type device on my neck.

When I was called in for my turn, I was all geared up to more or less fall asleep on the table and have the masseuse work on my shoulders. Apparently, she had other plans.

She talked to me the entire time. I wasn't even really reciprocating much -- but she pressed on, like she was going to talk to me no matter how uninterested I seemed (and I did seem uninterested, or at least I tried my best to).

If I were in one of these service type professions, I think I'd figure out when someone is there to socialize and when someone is there to relax. If I felt like chatting, I would have let the woman know that by talking back and seeming genuinely interested in what she had to say. I didn't do either of those things, yet she squawked on.

It was the least relaxing massage experience of my life.

I must go get another tomorrow with a different masseuse. Now, I've only to figure out how to explain that to my husband.

"North Country"

Well, because I love Charlize Theron, and my husband does too, we decided to see "North Country" for our date last Saturday night.

First of all, I was astounded that, given the subject matter, this 'based on a true story' took place in 1989. Yeah, I was a sophomore in high school and women were being treated like second-class citizens in the same country I live in -- and it was accepted/acceptable.

Charlize's character, Josie, leaves her abusive husband and travels to northern Minnesota to move back to her hometown and live with her parents. She hears about the pay at the mines, and although women aren't exactly welcome there, she gets a job and starts work with a few other women. They give the women the least desirable jobs at the mine, and the women are expected to work just as hard as the men, in addition to having to fend off the sexual advances from men all day long.

Eventually, Josie gets tired of the treatment she receives there and does something about it. The chances of her winning a class-action case against the mine look bleak at first, because she's a lone defendant (the others want to keep their jobs so they don't stand up for themselves), and because the women even sign an affidavit saying the things Josie has accused the male miners of never occured.

By the end of the movie, one woman, who is on her death bed, decides to speak up, and sways other women (and some men) to stand with Josie in the class-action lawsuit. Josie and the others win the case, and corporations across America have to follow suit.

When I left the theater, checking my mascara to see how much of it had run down to my neck (yes, parts of it were a real tear-jerker) I thought about how my life might be different if I'd been 10 years older than I am and had entered the work force without no real protection against sexual harrassment.

I also understood why the Anita Hill vs. Clarence Thomas case was such a big deal during the late Nineties, as I paid it no attention while the case was in court and splattered all over television and print media.

I remember vividly that there was a lot of talk about sexual harrassment when I was in high school and in my early years as an employee of various establishments. What I never knew was how I'd just missed the era of being able to say whatever you wanted to a woman (or man, I guess) at the workplace, and there was no real protection under the law against unwanted sexual comments and advances.

It boggles my mind that 15 years ago, these things were still taking place, when truly, women went to work en masse during World War II, when many of their male counterparts were overseas.

So, in short, women had to deal with this treatment (or a lack of protection from this treatment) for no less than 45 years as a true subgroup of working America. It baffles me that this wasn't addressed sooner than 1989. That seems like so few years ago, yet look how far we've come.

What's sad is that now, men all over the world are afraid to tell their female coworkers 'you look nice today' for fear that their comments will be misconstrued and taken as sexual advances.

I guess we're (the collective working world) making up for lost time, huh? Or maybe it's just further proof that sue-happy America is what (unfortunately) sets the precendents for the rest of us these days.

Anyway, off my soap box long enough to say that "North Country" was a great movie.

I told a lie.

Yesterday I went shopping for a possible outfit for a wedding we're attending in two weeks. I was telling the salesgirl about how I hate buying clothes because I am trying to lose weight after having a baby. She said, "Yeah, I know what you mean. It took me 6 months to lose all of my baby weight." Then she promptly asked me how old my baby was.

"Six months," I answered.

I am going to hell for sure. I lied to a saleswoman in a clothing store about my child to make myself feel better about being 10 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight. Dr. Sears must have some section in one of his books dedicated to the wickedness of mothers who lie about their babies to save face in the presence of complete strangers.

A small part of me reveled in the moment, though, because both the saleswoman and the woman behind me in line said that I looked good for just having a baby six months ago.

I wonder what they would have said if I'd told the truth?

Videos from today...

They're linked on Avery's blog.

And while we're scanning pictures...

how weird/gross/stupid is this?

I think it's safe to say that we partied like it was 1999 that night. Of course, that wasn't the first and it won't be the last time I've licked her face that way.

There is something about pumpkins and fall...

that I just totally adore. Fall is my favorite season and it holds my favorite holidays. As I made Avery's first Halloween costume (I don't think last year's Halloween pajamas really count) I reminisced about all the costumes I've created for myself in years past, and thought I'd post a few pictures just to show how creative I really can be.

First was 1994, Bartles and James. I don't quite remember how this costume came to be, but I'll tell you, it was funnier than shit. I think we might have even downed a few wine coolers in homage to our namesakes.

Then came 1997, the year of Tweedle Dee or Dum, not sure which.

Next was 1998, the year of the Crack Ho.

The following year we were the "Three Blind Mr. T's" -- there were three of us, so we justified it by all being blind. I'm not sure how that makes sense, but it did to us then. We won the costume contest as well.

Lastly (or at least the last year I really tried to be creative and create a costume) was 2003. Oh hail the Oompa Loompa.

I fear it's going to be a few years before I can devote this kind of time and energy into Halloween again -- or, for myself anyway. It makes me a little sad, I admit, that now Halloween will be more for Avery than for me... sigh.

Earl Hickey, I heart you...

I feel the need to express my L-O-V-E for the new NBC show "My Name is Earl" -- GOD I TALK ABOUT TELEVISION A LOT. Seriously though, this show is actually based on an original though of some genious sitcom writer who'd clearly had enough of the same old mundane pseudo-comedy.



So, what can I say about Earl to prove that I, too, have an original thought in this narrow-minded brain of mine?

Well, the first thing that struck me about the show is how much it reminded me of "Raising Arizona." I actually searched on the internet to make sure the Coen brothers weren't involved, and they're not. I could actually see Jason Lee (the actor who plays "Earl") running down the road with pantyhose on his head and a package of diapers under his arm. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but it's something.

It's just so -- silly... yet it's actually got a positive message. Earl learns about good and bad karma (not the true Buddhistic karma -- is "Buddhistic" a word?) and realizes he's created a lot of bad karma for himself in his lifetime, so he goes through a series of 'do overs' to try to right all of his wrongs. The "wrongs" he's committed are quite amusing -- Tuesday night's episode was about admitting he'd faked his own death to get out of a relationship with a crazy girl to the crazy girl herself. Because of his admission, the crazy girl is able to grow a backbone and stand up for herself, and eventually fakes her own death in return to show Earl just what it feels like.

Pretty funny stuff. Explaining it here just doesn't do it justice. It's worth watching.

I have awesome cyber-friends...

...some of them more sincere, caring, and thoughful than my friends 'in real life.'

I just received these flowers from a bunch of cyber-friends. I know I said I was going to move on and blog about something 'different,' but I had to stop and acknowledge how 'real' my non-'in real life' friends are.

Thank you girls.

Keep it moving, nothing to see here.

I haven't blogged in a while. I'll be back though. Typically, the throws of depression make for some good writing, but I just couldn't muster the energy to think of anything to write about. For anyone who doesn't know, I did have a miscarriage.

I'm ready to put it behind me and get back to living life.

Just a minor set back.

Be back tomorrow with something else to talk about...

I just can't shake this feeling...

After bleeding and cramping and clotting for three full days, today I am pretty sure I lost the baby. I don't really want to put all the gory details here, and I don't actually have confirmation from the doctor yet, but just suffice it to say that that whole 'women's intuition' thing was working overtime for me today.

Physically, I feel a hell of a lot better. The cramping is pretty much gone now, I'm just sore from having terrible cramps for three days. What kills me is that 36 hours prior to the moment where I felt an 'it's over' feeling radiate throughout my entire body, that baby had a heartbeat. It's just weird to me that it was alive so few hours ago.

Anyway, I'm not the type to do the 'poor me,' 'pity me' thing, so I am going to try to move on and be thankful for Avery, who I'm sure was worried about what was going on since I was in so much pain, lying on my side on the floor with her for the last three days was about all I could do. My mom and sister have been here to help out -- I can't thank them enough.

Once my suspicions are confirmed, I'll update my blog, but I might not be in the blogging mood for a few days.

Time is standing still.

For me, anyway. The rest of the world carries on like normal. In my next life I will be an OB who has some sort of bedside manner and actually gives a shit about the patients.

My husband, AKA Arthur Fonzarelli...

My mother in law shared a story with me once, and it was a HUGE mistake that she did so. I went on to share it with pretty much everyone else I know that also knows my husband. He still gets mad if I bring it up. It's just the cutest story, though -- I can't help but spread the love.

Apparently when he was in first grade, his teacher called home because he had been exhibiting some strange behaviors at school, and the teacher wanted mom and dad to know. He had all but abandoned his real persona and had taken on the Fonz's -- he went as far as to write "The Fonz" on his papers instead of "Jed."

Now, I thought this little story was cute, and couldn't wait to share it. My husband doesn't see it that way -- for some reason he's very embarrassed by it, even though it happened almost 25 years ago.

Today, however, I had to bring it up one more time. I was watching an interview with Henry Winkler, "The Fonz" from "Happy Days," and he was talking about his children and how proud he is of them. He mentioned their names, and I had to do a double take on the TV (thank God for Tivo) because had called his oldest son "Jed."

That's right, the Fonz's son's name is Jed.

Coincidence? I think not.