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Monday, April 30, 2007

What do you still wear from 1994?

That is an easy question with an easy answer: nothing. I know that I still have a few items from the 1990s, but I can't seem to think of any that I actually wear regularly. Styles have changed. My taste has changed. My body has changed. My wardrobe has most certainly changed as well.

I'm thinking about this because a video clip was forwarded to me from Father in Chief today. This video clip was part of a documentary about the early days of the Excite team (he's been working with some of those guys for the past couple of years), and it included some fun (and dated) images of those good people. The kicker is that one of the guys was wearing the exact same shirt at work today that he was wearing in the video more than a decade ago.

I couldn't help but wonder if he was like that woman from Seinfeld who had an endless supply of the same dress. But even if he did have an endless supply, why that shirt? And what a coincidence to be wearing the same shirt on the same day that this video was passed around.

Seriously, I can't think of a single item that I still own, that I still wear, from 1994. Some contenders:

A college sweatshirt (circa 1991)
I own it (I think), but I don't wear it. If it is still on the high shelf in my closet, that soft gray Northeastern University sweatshirt hasn't seen the sun since it came off the shelf of my old closet and was packed in a box to be moved to the top shelf of my new closet four years ago.

My wedding dress (circa 1998)
I still own it, but I definitely don't wear it. I guess I still have it somewhere, but I'm not sure where. It might be at my mom's house, so I'm not sure that actually counts. It's probably packed up in some silly cardboard box waiting for the daughter I never had to open it and want to wear it on her wedding day.

A winter coat (circa 199?)
Even though I've lived in the Bay Area for 11 years, I can't seem to bring myself to get rid of all those unused winter coats. There must be two or three of them slowly deteriorating in the cedar closet in the garage. That last time I needed a warm, wintry coat, I borrowed one. It was faux shearling.

Burgundy, clunky-heeled dance shoes (circa 1993)
For full disclosure purposes, I don't think I've worn them in a year since I bought my all-time favorite dance shoes at the local thrift store for $6. But I still own those burgundy shoes and I do put them on occasionally when I'm getting ready to go out. Lately, though, they do lose out to my Steve Madden bargain. I guess the difference is that I still like them and probably will wear them again.

I guess I'm not that surprised that the single remaining item from the 1990s that I actually use occasionally is dance related. On the flip side, I cannot think of a single item that I wish I'd kept.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

We need your help

Two heart operations and seven-and-a-half weeks later, Preschooler in Chief is home from the hospital. If you are able to, please donate blood this week to help us replenish the blood supply. Then please post here that you were able to help out, so that we can add up all the blood that was donated across the country in honor of our little guy.


Friday, April 20, 2007

A weird thing that happened during yoga

I need to premise this entry with the fact that I am indeed not a seasoned yoga practitioner, so perhaps for all you seasoned practioners, you won't find this strange: Alternate nostril breathing

The name of this alone makes me want to crack up. It is the practice of using your fingers to press one of your nostrils closed while you breathe through the other, open nostril. After you close one of your nostrils, you are supposed to take a deep cleansing breath. Then you switch sides to breathe through the other nostril. I imagine if you use the incorrect fingers, then the believed healing benefits are thwarted. Our class was instructed to keep our eyes closed. That means this chick in the picture here is probably doing it wrong because her eyes are open. Then again, we were probably told that because no one would be able to keep a straight face if we had to see ourselves doing this in the mirror. Anyway, this technique is supposed to relax me, but it makes me want to laugh at its absurdity. I honestly thought the instructor was joking the first time I heard her instruct us to do this.

I find this especially silly since I can only ever breathe through one of my nostrils in the first place. So if I try to block the open nostril and breathe through the blocked one, I'll probably end up spewing snot onto my yoga mat. So I usually just sit still with my eyes closed and ignore this part of class as I think about the chocolate croissant I'm going to eat when I get out of there.

Then after this exercise was done, we moved on to a breathing technique that was supposed to shoot oxygen up to my brain. The last time I checked, however, regardless of how I suck the air in, it still has to go through my lungs and into my bloodstream before any oxygen gets to my brain. But maybe that's just because I'm doing it wrong.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Crappy Birthday to you

Four years ago my life changed forever. It wasn't the joyful birth of my first baby. It was the horrifying news that came with him--that he was born with severe heart defects that would lead to a life of heart surgeries, extended hospital stays, multiple daily doses of a variety of foul-tasting medicines, and little-to-nothing that resembles a normal childhood. Sure we've had laughs and healthier times, but those seem to be sprinkled between the uncertainty and painful medical dramas.

This is the second year in a row that Preschooler in Chief has spent his birthday in the hospital following a heart operation. He's had five surgeries so far, two in the past two weeks. Yesterday's surgery was #5... 13 days ago was surgery #4. And we've reverted PIC back to the circulation he had after surgery #2. So basically, the last three surgeries, seven heart catheterizaitons, 193 x-rays and 68 days in the hospital (and counting) were all for nothing. It's so disheartening.

Anyway, we decided not to even mention that it's his birthday, and we've made that clear to the staff as well. No birthday talk allowed. You could argue that since he is alive, it is a reason to be happy on his birthday. And I'm so grateful that he is alive, but no kid should have to suffer the way he has suffered. There's nothing happy about that.