hotness

Maybe it's the weather, being on match or going to celebitchy every friday to check out their hot dong friday but I keep thinking of what men I find physically attractive (ooh and especially at the gym when my favorite is getting his sweat on). Sure, there are men that I find physically attractive that I'm sure I would have felt the same way about twenty five years ago and then there are those that I find attractive that I probably wouldn't have looked at twice ten years ago. But this weekend I'm thinking of hot Scots (James Mcavoy who is lovingly covered in the hot dong friday link) and the very very young (20!) Aaron Johnson, who's engaged to someone older than me (Sam Taylor-Wood). At first, this seems a bit creepy, but then I'm like fuck it more power to her. I mean, God knows I'd be happy as a clam to have that face and body lying in my bed. And there are so many men that date people where the age difference is even more than twenty-three years between them. I mean my personal rule tends to be I want someone who can at least recall bicentennial because I remember leapfrogging over the fire hydrants in my town that were painted to resemble midget pilgrims. But I see that for the very arbitrary line drawn in the sand that it is. And, really, if James McAvoy (32) or Aaron Johnson (20) decided they simply must be with me I'm sure I'd be jumping right over that line in the sand in a heartbeat.


So James Mcavoy (above) is better known than Aaron Johnson. He was in Last King of Scotland, Wanted (which I rented just to watch his loveliness) and Atonement (which I own because I loved the book and the movie isn't as great as the book but the book didn't have James Mcavoy in it so it's sort of a tie). And, yes, I'll admit to renting Penelope under the guise of it being a family film I could watch with my kids when really it was all for me to lust after James in all his hotness.

Aaron Johnson was in Kick-Ass, which was actually a pretty good movie, and he's such an adorable goofball in it. I also watched Nowhere Boy over my break in April, which is where he met Sam Taylor-Wood since she directed the film. It's about John Lennon's years as a teen and the very very early start of his music career. She got amazing actors for her film, Kristin Scott-Thomas, who is always so incredible and James Mcacvoy's wife, plus that cute little Boy that played Liam Neeson's stepson in Love, Actually plays Paul McCartney in this (and he's actually older than Aaron Johnson in real life, wow this boy is crazy young). Aaron Johnson does a really good job in this film, it's a small film but I thought it was very well done (some of the shots in the film are stunning). And, so I guess the perpetual nineteen year old in me finds Aaron Johnson incredibly hot and just wants to have a makeout session with those full lips of his and run my fingers through his goregous curls (just look at how flipping lovely they are in that last shot of him with his fiance, how does she not have her hands in his hair?!). Okay, I'll stop panting now.

dilemma

I don't know how to even go about explaining what happened today. I picked my kids up early and took them to the place we usually go to so they can play for an hour or so before dinner. One of the parents I know, it's not like we're tight (I'm not really tight with anyone) but we talk when we're up there, wound up backing into my car. I saw the whole thing from a distance of about 50 yards. The parent got out of there car, looked at my car and then got back in their car and drove off. Now it's not like my car sustained major damage, hardly, the paint got scraped where my bumper was tapped. It wouldn't be a big deal if this parent had bothered to walk over and say something to me. But they didn't. I don't know why I didn't get up, maybe I assumed they would come over to me? I honestly can't say. But it makes me feel so crappy. And I don't even know what to say to this person next time I see them. Thanks for the hit and run on my car? I avoid conflict like the plague, so I'm obviously not going to say that, but what would be a way to politely get the point across that it totally wasn't cool to back into my car and then drive off hoping that I didn't see what I did?

study break

Damn, where has May gone and how did it get to be the twenty-second all of a sudden? So I'm doing my usual panic/procrastination dance. Have a test tomorrow morning and I really need to study but then I decide I need to recycle my glass and plastic even more, and it's off to construction junction. Or I simply must stop at Anthropologie NOW and buy a scented candle (oakmoss, it's yummy) to get rid of the spunky smell in my house (a fetid attar of stinkbug, cat, and rotting bananas). And can someone please explain to me just who is buying the handsoap at Anthropologie that's selling for twenty-fucking-two dollars?! So I ponder that insanity for a while and the unfairness that all I can afford is a scented candle, even their sale stuff is pricey. But right now I have a home and health insurance, I'm more fortunate than many in this country, in that I can afford an overpriced candle. Then when I get home and sit down with all my powerpoints, well, of course, that's when I notice how filthy the house is and start cleaning like a madwoman trying to atone for the vacuum neglect this house endures during the week. And just to go off on a side note I really need a new vacuum, like the perfect vacuum (I'm on a quest for the perfect vacuum, pillow, pair of jeans to make my thighs look slender, oh and man). Speaking of which, man have I had quite a few responses from match. It gives me faith that there are other intelligent, kind, educated people in Pittsburgh and they get bonus points for good spelling (you can't imagine how many people on match have trouble even constructing a sentence). Who knows how it will pan out, fingers crossed I can get a couple free meals at Umi if nothing else. I know what I want but if it doesn't happen on match, well at least I met some nice people. And I have to give my Mom (who is also on match) a special thank you because I can't just outright reject people I'm not interested in by ignoring their emails and I figured she would have a kind diplomatic way of saying 'I'm not interested' and she did. Plus we had a giggle about some of the stuff we've seen on match, she has a 36 year old who keeps writing to her that she's had to block. I was like 'imagine if we wind up having the same guy hitting on both of us?' I go out to dinner with my mom and the kids every week and we have some good laughs, in between my having to take Oona to the bathroom. The girl has a thing for public restrooms, it really pushes the limits of the latent germphobe in me.

Okay, now to find something to eat, I absolutely have to fold the laundry and then back to studying. Really and truly this time. Wish me luck.

biting the bullet

Much like someone who holds their nose when taking a vile medicine I'm deciding to dip my foot back into online dating with match. My mom was the real motivator. She keeps emailing me profiles of men with graduate degrees and nice smiles that she notices on match. These men get bonus points, meaning my mom comments even more about them, if they are superb spellers (they've got spellcheck on match now so it shouldn't be that difficult). My mom means well and she knows I'd like to share my life with someone so she keeps trying to nudge me back into online dating, even offering to pay for my subscription, if money is what's holding me back. It's not the money that's kept me out of the dating pool. The whole internet dating scene is pretty much anathema to me but I'm looking at it as a necessary evil towards meeting someone, since I'm not getting any younger and I'm pretty much sick to death of spending all my free time alone. In some ways it's easier than meeting someone in person because I have no clue when someone is interested in me, I need the romantic equivalent of an anvil dropped on my head to get the hint. So in virtual dating I can get winks or emails and that's a hint even I'm not obtuse enough to be puzzled over. It's also much easier for me to flirt through writing than in person. But not on the phone, and unfortunately, some guys like to preemptively screen potential face to face dates with a phone call and if that happens I'll quickly fall out of the potentially date worthy pool. Phone calls when I don't really know someone make me feel as awkward and uninspired by just what to say as I was when I was middle school and the silences on the phone with boys I was 'going out' with would make me blush and stammer to find something (anything!) to fill that gap of nothingness between our ears. But another really tough thing with online dating is the need to sell myself in writing and, you know, if your skill is to pick yourself apart that isn't the easiest thing to do. So what do I write? How do I make myself date worthy? Well I can always hold off on that until I get a decent profile picture to put up, and with the way my hair is looking lately it might be months until I can put a decent profile up.

think up

My forties have not been a decade that's welcomed me with open arms. I've gone through a separation, lost my father and grandmother, am reinventing myself as a nurse, which is no easy task in your twenties, let alone at twice that age. The past couple of years have been a bit of a suckfest for the most part. Financial struggles? check. Uncertain future? check. Middle aged and without health in 2012 if I don't find a job in the two months after I graduate? check. It is enough to keep me up at night and has sucked the fat right out of my face (but not my thighs, it's so not right). But there are a couple of things that continue to go right for me. In spite of me really. Owen and Oona. As bad as things get in every fucking arena of my life, my children are the bright spots in my life. The other day Owen heard me talking to his Dad on the phone about Oona's behavior at school. She is very bright and, I suspect, very bored, and winds up talking constantly in class. The teacher can't control her and I think it's gotten to a point where the teacher has sort of tossed up her hands and Oona controls the class. We get daily behavior chart updates and there are days where the teacher makes sad faces in the row 'I will listen quietly when the teacher is talking' that drawn so violently I'm surprised it doesn't go through the paper. What can I do? I've met with the teacher. I've suggested using Oona as a helper, which I think Oona would love, she plays teacher all the time, and with 25 other students in the class it might be in Mrs. M's best interests. I've said to send her to the principal's office when she acts out (if she isn't going to positively reinforce her than send her to a place she's terrified to be sent to) but the teacher does none of this. Just puts her on sad face and I get the daily update clearly showing how taxed the teacher is by Oona's loquacious nature. So after I got off the phone Owen looks at me and it's like I can see the lightbulb over his head. He says, 'I've got an idea for how to help Oona. Why don't we send her to the talk doc.' The talk doc being a absolutely wonderful children's therapist who helped out Owen when he was having a tough time this fall with all the changes that have occurred in his life over the past year or so. It just made me want to cry it seemed so sweet of him. Just like the fact that ever since I've been able to ask Owen what his favorite color is it's always been the same answer, 'all of them' because he doesn't want any of the colors to feel left out. I kvell over that sweet little heart of his. Or Oona coming over to hug me and pat my head, she can be the most maternal five year old, when I'm lying on the couch and can barely talk my head is hurting so badly. I love that my children are such kind loving souls. I just would like to find an adult version that I could wake up next to. It's not something I need but for fuck's sake it certainly makes life much more enjoyable.

hello, my name is

Loser? Actually it's Kim, not Amelia, and I get that that might be a bit confusing with the blog name but that isn't really the issue. The issue is that I've had this lovely two and a half week break and just the word break, it usually implies all the fun things you'll try to fit into that precious amount of time, activities, seeing people, you know, something to make the transience of it jam packed with fun. And my break has just sort of stung for the most part. I had a couple days that I got to spend with two friends and they were really lovely days. But one friend I had to import from Philly and I wind up sucking the marrow out of my time with them like a starving person because I have so few friends and therein lies the problem. Now I'm not a person that needs to have five hundred close friends, or even fifty, I'd be elated with five people that I could consider true friends, but I'd be lucky if I had half that. My phone hardly ever rings and when it does it's either my Mom or my ex, who's usually calling to speak to the kids. So there's truly only one person who calls me on a regular basis and I love my Mom but I'd sort of like to have someone else calling to see how I'm doing, or want to do something with me. And even my Mom is counting down the days until I graduate so she can leave Pittsburgh because she doesn't like it here and then I won't even have her to go to the diner with on Sundays, which is the extent of my social life. And yes, I'm well aware of how cringe worthy that is. I know that I can be quiet and shy so I'm not one that people naturally gravitate to. In fact I seem to be the type of person that gets reintroduced to people because they just can't remember meeting me. But I have actively tried with some people, to get together for coffee, or a drink (I've extended invitations to my house since I'm a bit of a lightweight with alcohol) or dinner. And 99% of time I get blown off. Which really makes me feel crappy, like I must be incredibly boring or just not worth the time. At the start of this break I asked one Mom for her phone number because Oona loves playing with her daughter, she'll scream her name the way Marlon Brando screamed 'Stella' in Streetcar Named Desire when this girl isn't at the farmhouse to play. The mother wouldn't give me her number, which struck me as odd, but she put my name and number in her cell phone and said she'd get in touch over break. And I never heard from her. I just don't get it. Not only am I not friend-worthy but I'm not even playdate worthy for your child who, ostensibly, could have just been dropped off and it would have given the mom a free afternoon? I mean I don't think I look like a pedophile or otherwise sketchy and I just thought it would be fun for Oona. So I spent my break going to the gym a lot, which isn't out of the ordinary, since that's one way to pass the time. I watched season five of Lost and am almost done with my book, which is sort of petering out of its initial promise but I can't not finish a book. I start school again on Monday and my high from having done well the previous term is long gone, having a break without anyone to really talk to I quickly start feeling that I'm not really nurse material but just what material I am I don't know.

those pesky details

Last week I decided to treat myself to having the interior of my car professionally cleaned and detailed, because the seats, which I've talked about in previous posts, are tan cloth and, impractically enough, get stained with water. The carpet is also tan and was pretty wretched looking and the car had an odor of dirty, sweaty child that always made me want to apologize when I drove other students to the various hospitals that we'd go to on clinical days. So the fellow that did the work on my car was super friendly. He even brought the car to my house when he was done with it, since it was pouring and I didn't want to walk with the kids in the bad weather to pick it up. I tipped him and thanked him and, at first look, everything looked really good, although I immediately saw that the major stains on the passenger seat weren't going to come out. The stains on Owen and Oona's seats, that I yell at them about for getting mud all over, those stains came out fine. But the passenger seat, the stains that I made by using that seat as a makeshift dining tray, were unfortunately permanent, and, also unfortunate, the stain really looks like someone urinates on that seat on regular basis. So I was doing this internal fight of, well it does look better versus maybe there was a better way to have spent $110? Although, to be fair to the detailer, the carpeting really looks amazing, it's just the passenger seat that still looked bad. And the driver's seat, where the right side is stained from my wiping my (coffee or cookie covered hand on the seat, in lieu of napkins, because I feel compelled to expose how filthy I am to you and how someone, my children perhaps? should yell at me). Honestly the amount I eat in the car is saddening and, frankly, disgusting. I've had to ask another student (female, I assure you) in the wee morning hours, heading to the hospital before light has touched the sky, if I have chocolate stains on the ass of my blindingly white scrubs (and how practical is white as a scrub color?) because I eat so many cookies in the car. Fortunately the answer has been no but I seem to have a problem walking in my shoes that causes me to kick back dirt on rainy/snowy days severely enough that I wind up with spots up to my ass, it's like I need mud flaps (chaps?) on my uniform when I'm outside.

But back to my clean, but not clean enough, car. It looked much better, although the seats were still damp from the cleaning. The detailer told me to just leave the car on and blast the heat but I felt really bad doing that on Earth day so I just turned the car off and cracked the windows a bit. I had brought in the car mats to dry in the hallway but after a half hour I realized I couldn't deal with the smell of them in the house. And that's when it dawned on me. The inside of my car reeked from whatever industrial crap he had used to clean the carpet and upholstery, an awful, cloying perfume smell that was ten times worse than the child spunk of before. So for the past week I've been driving around in my Mom's Civic while leaving my car with the windows at various stages of open depending on the weather (and the weather has not been making this easy, what with all the frequent showers) and time of day. I also put a box of baking soda and an odor absorber in the car. And the car still reeks, in a super strong, permeate your clothes, headache & nausea inducing way. Granted, I am really smell sensitive to begin with. Nothing like a bout of hyperemesis gravidarum in pregnancy to give you the nose of a bloodhound. I can't deal with my laundry detergent being scented and the only dish soap I can use is Ivory (Ecover's lemon verbena dishsoap is heavenly smelling, my favorite, but too pricy to justify using and Method's lemon verbena cleanser is horrible smelling, like it's hard to believe they're both aiming for the same scent). When Oona was a month old Toby decided to paint Drylock in part of the basement and the smell was so strong I stayed in a hotel for the night with the kids and then insisted we go to his parents for a long weekend because I was convinced the VOC's were going to permanently damage my children and their vulnerable, developing brains (this became an ongoing joke with Toby's friends that he played video games with online, where they saw the opportunity in it, a cunning way to carve out time for themselves, away from family, by offering to Drylock a basement). Yeah, so I sound more and more like Julianne Moore in Safe and I'm sure you can sort of sympathize with my ex at this point.

teeth

I just went to the dentist and it made me sad. Don't get me wrong, needing a crown, a filing replaced and a new filing made definitely caused me to feel like my mouth might be comparable to Martin Amis's. And, yes, that was a bit disheartening. But the really sad thing is that my dentist retired (due to ongoing back problems) and has been replaced with a new uper-competent woman. There's nothing not to like about the new dentist. She was friendly, liked the title of the book I was reading (White Teeth, I know it seems like a joke that I would bring that to the dentist but I'm smack dab in the middle of it) and was lightning quick to work with me on any payment plan I might need to cover the expenses hemorrhaging from my mouth. No, the problem was that she's redecorated the place. Now my former dentist was in no way a bang up interior designer. His proclivity was to maximize the space of the place by packing as much crap as was possible to fit in it. The waiting area had at least 3 years worth of magazines, and you never have to even wait all that long there. The hallway wall was festooned with various diplomas and awards he had received in his career. The far room, where you got in depth work on your teeth, had professional portraits of him with his dogs. There was an honorary portrait of a cancer stricken dog, now deceased. And, my personal favorite, one of him on a motorcycle with one of his dogs in the sidecar and for some bizarre branding reason, 'Pupperoni Pizza' in a corner, what pizza snacks for canines has to do with motorcycles and sidecars I'm sure I don't know, maybe because I have two cats this photo passion with pets escapes me. But I loved the way his dental practice looked. The fact that it was such a cluttered mess and sort of reminded me of the benign chaos in some establishments I've worked at, people I know, Indian restaurants I love to eat at. There's something wonderful about the so not caring what the interior decoration rules are. And he had a massive wheel that you could spin if you recommended a new patient to the practice and you could win cool stuff, like a gift certificate to Barnes and Noble for $10. The new dentist has made things completely tasteful. The new waiting area has a cork floor with blue leather chairs and actually interesting small paintings of Pittsburgh. The hallway is clear of any clutter and was painted a pale neutral-ish yellow. The dental rooms no longer have tons of crap posted to the walls. I totally get why she did this. If I were her it was the first thing I would have done. But it makes me sad. All the front staff and hygienists wear the same ensemble of black pants and dark grey lab coats, nipped in at the waist. Even the dentist wears the same uniform. I just miss the clashing scrub tops, items I will never ever wear as a nurse but I secretly celebrate that lovely tackiness. Most of the staff stayed but one hygienist left, I think it was the one that dubbed herself 'the small fry' and had her room pretty much wallpapered in newspaper and magazine cutouts referring to small fry related stuff, like 'small is the next big'. I'll keep going to this new dentist, unlike my ex who was really rubbed the wrong way by her, but I so miss my old dentist, the eccentric Dr. Melnick. I can always keep my fingers crossed that he has some great recovery with his back issues and misses practicing dentistry so much he comes out of retirement. Here's hoping.

easter break

This week the kids have had off and the week has pretty much sucked weather wise. One beautiful sunny day yesterday, although a bit chilly, drizzly every other day. So we have gone bike riding twice, gone to see Hop (a big hit with the kids, I liked hearing Hugh Laurie as the paternal bunny, imagining lurid fantasies of Hugh talking dirty to me as both a demeaning House and a bunny that will give me all the candy I want, I'm concerned that I find Hugh the sexiest when he plays an asshole doctor), Oona's made a mess load of Easter cards and drawings, and Owen has begged to go on the computer and watch TV daily, I've had to try and keep both to a minimum, which is no easy task with the crappy weather. During the times Owen isn't pestering me about the TV/computer he has been rereading these Translucent books which he loves (he's read each half a dozen times) and I find it sort of adorable because the books are manga romance. He's also been teasing his sister and refusing to play with her, typical sibling stuff but it drives me crazy because I was an only child and it just seems mean so instead of ignoring it I point out how nasty he's being to Oona. I don't know what to ignore and when to intervene, I don't have history with the sibling rivalry stuff. Elise came out to visit on the mega bus (which I keep calling in my head the magic bus but correct myself before saying it). Oona loooved Elise and was trying to craft a way to enjoy the girls weekend with us. Elise and I both had a religious experience going to Umi, which is the best sushi restaurant I've ever eaten at. It's the only place I want to go for sushi, the toppings they use, looking at their website is like food porn for me just fantasizing about the red snapper, salmon, sawara and tuna. They have really good riesling too. I'd just like to have a lost summer of sushi and riesling, mmmmm.

Elise with a recently converted acolyte, my daughter, just wait until she's old enough to read Elise's book, there'll be no bounds to her admiration.
Owen with his invention, the submafish
One of the bike days, Oona fell and scraped both knees shortly after this picture was taken putting an end to the biking for that day. At least she didn't knock out any teeth. I always see my kids falling off their bikes and knocking their teeth out. It's causes a physical reaction in me, like nails on a chalkboard, when I think of this, my mind is a horrible instrument of self torture.

vacation

I'm done with my critical care term! I not only passed, I got high honors and I got the highest grade on the final! This is one of the advantages of having no social life to speak of, all I did was study, go to the gym, and rent movies. By the way can someone tell me what the end of Inception means? I have a feeling it's sort of like the end of Momento where I'm left wondering about the reliability of the film's narrator. I actually got a really nice final clinical evaluation too, where my instructor was proud of me considering how far I'd come this term what with dealing with my anxiety (she did tell me the first time she was my clinical instructor, way back in week five, that I should take a valium before coming to clinicals). I finally got to a place where I not only didn't cry but actually started feeling comfortable in the ICU setting. I loved the ICU in the not so great neighborhood, commute aside I'd love to work there. The environment with the nurses was really wonderful. I had two nurses thank me profusely for my help, the one I worked with the last week said it would be great if I wanted to work there. Oh and I got to change my patient's surgical dressing last week, she had gone to surgery on Tuesday for removal of a PEG tube due to infection (necrotizing fasciitis). I removed the original dressing, there's a pretty distinct odor that comes with an infected wound, but I felt like Jodi Foster in Silence of the Lambs when her fascination overcomes her initial squeamishness at seeing a dead body fresh from the water. The smell didn't bother me because I was fixated on treating the wound properly. I pulled out the original packing, which was purulent. I saw another piece in the patient and my instructor said, no that's her insides (because, yes, you could see her insides) but it turned out to be more packing, it resembled a shoelace, so I took a hemostat and pulled that out as well. And then I cleansed her wound and repacked it with gauze and an abd pad, using sterile technique. And I absolutely loved doing it, like I could totally see myself enjoying being a wound care nurse. When a wound care nurse came to speak to our class, way back in Basic II almost a year ago, I could never imagine doing that as a job because wound care nurses work quite a bit with ostomy patients which, when I first learned about ostomies, I didn't know how I could handle that, I had a hard enough time bathing patients and not feeling invasive. But after you have cared for a patient that has a urostomy or colostomy, well, it doesn't freak me out at all. And this tough as nails female surgeon once told me I should consider becoming a wound care nurse, that it pays well and you get to establish long term relationships with your patients. I have no idea why she told me this last summer, when I showed interest in an abdominal X-ray of my patient's that she was looking over.

One thing I'm puzzling over is that all my instructors write about how kind and caring I am in my clinical evaluations and I'm always wondering, do they really mean that or is that just the nice thing to say about someone who doesn't seem to have much else going for them in the clinical environment, aside from a propensity for tears? It makes me think of when I wanted to work for a magazine, back when I was twenty-five. I met with Marin Hopper at Elle (somehow my Dad knew her) and she was like 'You seem like a very nice girl, why do you want to work at a magazine? You are too nice for this business.' Sometimes I get that same feeling reading my clinical evaluations and then I'm like 'What the fuck am I suited for?' and, alternately, 'I'm not that nice. Just ask my kids or anyone who pisses me off while driving.' I still want to do psychiatric nursing first and foremost. But for PNR, my practical internship where I shadow a nurse for 120 hours before graduation, I'm not allowed to do psychiatric nursing (or, for that matter, OR or ER nursing ) so I'm thinking of the neuro ICU or possibly the NICU, I'll have to see what that's like this coming term. I'd almost like to work in the ICU just to prove to myself that I am capable of that type of nursing. And it's the best experience if I ever decided I wanted to become a nurse anesthetist (and if I became a nurse anesthetist I might finally be able to stop worrying about money). In terms of critical thinking, ICU nursing is the best specialty out there. Okay, but I'm officially done with thinking nursing school until May 1st. It should be a blissful couple of weeks. Hopefully I can sleep away the bags under my eyes that have been a fixture since October.

So during my 'catching up on chores whilst studying for final' today i decided to put my down comforter in the wash. When I opened the washer there was a horrible smell and pulling out the comforter my basement quickly became a hen house, there were feathers everywhere. Nothing like catching up on chores to put you back in your studies. I think I'm quitting down comforters, the smell of those liberated feathers was too much for me.

The past four days I've been studying for my final, which is tomorrow. I haven't spent every minute of the past four days studying, don't get me wrong. I'd intersperse it with going to the gym, renting movies each night (four! more than I've seen in the past four months) and catching up on errands I neglect while in school but I've looked over all of the eighteen powerpoint lectures I'll be tested on bright and early tomorrow, with such diverse gems as trauma, esophageal cancer, neuromuscular disorders, all things renal and disaster planning (if this last lecture had been given with the same passion that my favorite fire safety lecturer puts towards his work it would have been awesome, alas, he's a tough act to live up to). So today, my day before the final, I get to panic in earnest. To be fair my body is well acquainted with that panicky feeling, in fact it seems to be the mode it operates on most days. But what better way to calm that vertiginous feeling than with a little procrastination by blogging? So my friend Elise turned me on to celebitchy and I have to admit, I agree with her about how refreshing it is to come across a website that totally objectifies men with such gems as hot dong friday. They'll also have very funny posts like Michael Madsen owes $750k in child support, deadbeat Dad or victim of the economy? I am a sucker for a headline like that. It's a very nice place to click over to and indulge in all things insipid and celebrity oriented for a bit. A few weeks ago Elise and I were talking and she asked who my top five guys be. And I seem to be very uncreative because my mind won't even let me imagine random flings with famous hot guys. My fantasy goes poof if I can't realistically (well, really, unrealistically) see myself being able to get along with this person. But so here's my list of the top five famous people I lust after and it seems to show just how bad I am at this game, or perhaps what a geek I am.

No real surprise here given my Hugh wishlist that resides permanently on the right side of this blog. The past couple years of House have disappointed me but I still would rather watch Hugh Laurie in not so great House episodes than basically anything else on TV. If Hugh could just talk dirty to me with that British accent I'd swoon.

The real life doctor I fantasize about. Atul Gawande is my hero; he is just so smart and such an amazing writer and he's actually interested in making the world a better place. I mean he's a surgeon, he could just rake in the money and live some nice upper income life and not be bothered (trust me I see enough doctors like that at the gym I go to). But he wants to do more with his life and it makes him infinitely cool to me.

My dirty little late night secret. I do not get to see enough of Craig Ferguson because I can't stay up that late and I don't have Tivo (I don't even have cable, I just have basic access to get my public channels in clearly). But this man is so sexy with how funny he is. He's unbelievably clever and he has a good heart (this clip of him discussing his alcoholism is great) and I love how he flirts with the camera when he talks.

I don't know if Ralph Fiennes is clever or funny (hell, just pronouncing his first and last name properly is questionable) but he's sexy in spades. He is great at playing evil characters but equally good at playing tragic heroes. He is even sexy bald, noseless and snake-like as Voldemort. I might need to rent something with him in it soon.

Michael Chabon is the nice jewish boy I wish I married but Ayelet Waldman got him instead. I can't even fault her for it because their marriage seems so enviably beautiful I can't imagine wrecking it. Just thinking of Michael Chabon makes me smile. His writing is so exuberant and if you listen to him that exuberance comes across with every word he says.

team kathleen

I don't have many friends in Pittsburgh. It's my own fault, I'm pathologically shy. But one person I am friends with is, Kathleen. Kathleen has a whole slew of friends. She is just one of those people that has a way about them that people gravitate towards. I think it's because she is one of the easiest people to talk to. She's smart, funny and incredibly creative but she never takes herself too seriously. It's a modesty that's baffling when I see some of the artwork she just tosses out so easily. Kathleen was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer this past summer. She's gone through a masectomy, chemo and radiation with a spirit and humor that is unlike anything I could imagine being capable of. She will make numerous jokes (very funny, very dark) in reference to what she's going through, but I never hear her complain. I honestly don't know how she does it. I mean look at the poster she made in an hour of goofing around on photoshop, it brings me to tears when I look at it and think of what she's been through but, at the same time, it's funny. It has an unsinkable spirit and that's Kathleen in a nutshell. She has one particular friend, Karen, that has gone above and beyond what one might expect in terms of help from a friend, Kathleen no longer considers her a friend as much as family because that's just what she's been to Kathleen. But there are others, so many others, that have helped her throughout the past nine months. When I see the love people have for Kathleen, it makes me think of Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life. She truly is rich with the friends she has. And her family is pretty great too, I love her parents. There is a group of us that is running for Kathleen this Mother's Day. I loathe hitting people up for donations, where you click on everyone in your email address box and send the prewritten spiel. And, honestly, I'd rather raise money to give directly to Kathleen than to Susan G. Komen race for the cure, not that I don't think they deserve money, they do, and I know it helps with research and all that, I get it. But I want to help my friend because she's incurred a lot of financial costs (those co-pays add up quickly) in addition to the personal costs she's faced with this health crisis.

So, if you are so inclined you can either donate here or contact me at plumamelia@gmail.com and I can give you Kathleen's address. The two images below are a couple bookmark ink drawings that Kathleen did. I so wish she would become the art instructor where our children go to school. She would be perfect. At the very least I'm strongly pushing her towards starting an Etsy site.

in the pink

Back in early October of last year, after Oona's incident with 'the lice' she dyed her hair blue over at Toby & Sara's. Sara is Toby's fiance. She is smart, kind, pretty, incredibly funny and, most important to me, absolutely wonderful with Owen and Oona. So yes, this is a huge thing I've avoided posting any reference to but there's nothing really to say about it. They're happy and I'm happy for them (honestly). It's one more person to love my children and they adore her and her Mom, who might qualify for favorite Grandma, Owen calls her 'Grandma Awesome'. I just wish I could meet someone to share my life and be happy with too because it's sort of the whole point of life. But back to Oona. I guess Oona had been talking to them about dyeing her hair blue like Katy Perry for some time and after 'the lice' incident, and my horrible job of cutting her hair, and the beauty salon making the best of the hack job I'd done, well her hair was short and it seemed like a nice thing to do for the suffering she'd gone through because of 'the lice' (Oona always called them 'the lice' and that's stuck in my mind). Her hair actually looked quite cute blue. Especially as it was washing out, it became this pale teal that looked really nice with her eyes. So this weekend Toby called to see if I had a problem with pink, I said no, after all it washes out and she can dress however she wants as far as I'm concerned (especially since she needs to wear a uniform at school). As long as her clothes are seasonally appropriate. And hopefully this indulging in the hair colors might dissaude her from a future facial piercings, facial tattoos, or, god forbid, those earrings that stretch your lobe WIDE. And has some dermatologist/plastic surgeon found a way to remedy that yet because I think there could be a potential goldmine there in another 10 years or so? So she got deep pink hair and I think she looks adorable, it totally suits her personality and the best thing is it washes out after a couple of months, so thank you manic panic for letting my five year old realize her inner chameleon.