samson went back to bed

alright i admit i'm a little biased but my son is beautiful.

when i wanna cry he makes me laugh. when i wanna scream he makes me smile. and when everything seems to fall apart, he farts so loud it builds me up. he's like an angel, he really is. maybe all babies are like that at first because they were so recently in the presence of heavenly father and all his shiny pals. sometimes i swear samson can still see them. he especially likes to chat with the corner of the ceiling above his crib. coincidence? i think not. i wish my sorry ways weren't slowly washing away his perfection. if it weren't for me, he'd probably still be totally untainted, surfing nimbus clouds across the cosmos. nah...we asked for each other. i feel it. and i suppose if i weren't for me, he'd never get fed or changed or bathed or tucked in either. so all in all we're a pretty good pair, samson and me. and daddy makes three. and beagy makes four. i guess. yeah...we're pretty darn cute.

vouching for vegetarianism

You’d be surprised the gripe I get for being a vegetarian. When I first announced to my parents of my decision to go no-meat at age thirteen, my father was “genuinely concerned” because he knew someone who ended up in the hospital for it. (Don’t ask me how.) I’ve been hounded for reasons political, physiological, psychological, and radical. Even twelve years later I have people go as far as to say it is against the commandments of God to not eat meat (as they shove a third piece of pie in their mouths at the Church picnic, “See, it’s right here in the Bible!”). When I became pregnant, I admit I even second-guessed myself. Could I still get enough protein and iron to sustain the growth of another human life inside me?
The answer panned out beautifully. I had a textbook healthy pregnancy, gaining a grand total of 21 pounds by term, and giving birth all naturally to an 8 lbs. 13 oz. gorgeous baby boy. The nurses called me “the A+ patient.” In a matter of a week, I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight and pushing the jogging stroller three miles every morning. And I remained perfectly vegetarian the whole time.
The fact of the matter is I did begin vegetarianism because I hit puberty and thought I was too fat to be the supermodel I foolishly hoped to become. But the years of sticking to it and educating myself on the latest nutrition science have paid off so much more than my shallow mind initially thought. Vegetarianism introduced me to yoga, which has revolutionized my views of wellbeing. Eating as many fruits and vegetables as I want not only prevents me from ever feeling hungry. It also keeps me vitalized, even if I feel like scarfing a pint of Ben&Jerry’s after a seven mile run. I call it “breaking even.”
It’s good genes, you say? My father is borderline diabetic, my mother is obese, and my family has a history of colon cancer. If you’re not crazy about my personal feelings, ask someone else. My girlfriends in college were envious of my cellulite-free thighs. My clients thought I had a basketball under my shirt when I was pregnant. My neighbors drop their jaws at how fast I thinned out postnatal. And I never feel like I deprive myself of anything. That’s a lot coming from a girl who grew up in Wisconsin and could polish off whole slabs of ribs at age eight. I figure I consumed enough meat back then to last me a lifetime.
However I don’t believe vegetarianism is for everyone. My husband, for instance, doesn’t experience the same boost of energy and satiety I do when eating light and often. He can’t stand how carbs bog him down and craves a heavier load of protein. Men do, I suppose. But then there’s my mother, a born and raised Johnsonville Brat-lover who would rather walk from Hobbiton to Rivendell then give up her kielbasa. My point is that one’s personal preference for food is as important a reason to eat certain things as the healthy motives behind it. If you don’t enjoy what you eat, you won’t sustain any results from dieting.
So while I can certainly vouch for vegetarianism myself, I implore you to find your own balance of nutrition. Do not buy into fad diets. Do not motivate by negativity. Educate yourself with science, not celebrity endorsements. And remember that nothing will make you happier or healthier than your own personal commitment to being happy and healthy!

i wanna be a writer.i always have.

when my father asked me what i wanted to be when i grew up, i told him a writer. he was impressed enough. after all he was a working artist for twenty years himself. not that he endorsed an artist's lifestyle... especially not for his impressionable ten year old daughter. then i asked him, "so how much money do they make? a lot, right?" he told me no, not unless i was steven king, and he wasn't that great of a writer anyways. so when we all wrote our career papers in ninth grade, i wrote about pychiatry because i heard they make a lot of money. by the end of that assignment, i definitely did not want to be a psychiatrist or any other kind of -ist. too depressing. too much school. and when would i ever have time to write the great american novel if i was working 60 hour weeks at the office?
in college i wanted to go into policy. but that turned out to be far too idealistic... besides, who wants to deal with all those corrupt politicians on a daily basis. frankly, it depresses me. so i switched to cultural studies. now there's a niche for the creative but constructive mind! plenty of writing too. yet it sure doesn't land you a job after graduation.
so here i am, now a married twenty-something with a new baby and no money. where do i turn? my lifelong dream of becoming a writer. i just figure there's no better time than... well, when i finally grow a pair. but who's going to hire a new mother with no credentials who wants to work from home? someone out there might go out on a limb for me, you never know. but i'll have to convince them first. i'll start with this post.

olde favouritess.

one hour phriend.

le wisconsin

sunday afternoon.

love her.

ciel

happity earf dayyy ;d

थे.गुड.लाइफ.thegoodlife

good spot.

good read.

good job.

good mems.

goodfood.goodrest.goodroost.godlove.

just keep telling yourself that.

१२:५९ पम.1259PM

like ninety eight percent of sometimes,i daydream.
like this:

heather feels, a shapely, caramel arm.
a plastic obstruction, silent interruptions of
my dripply revelry...

of crisy winter air. A welcoming cold.
unassuming.
unapprecated.
gone north for good.
un-understood.

come on skinny love rights my eyes.
i sit still...sweetly.slowly
falling apart.
it's not me.not now.
too crude.too brashy.two eyes?two hands?
why not?
not true.not real.

come on skinny love falls over my face.
like a chastisement.like a prayer against me.
so good.so holy.and me so unworthy.
so pretty.so noble. and me so repulst.
don't talk like that.don't think like that.it's not like that.

my crown spins out.and my head drowns down.
sit still.
say a prayer.

heather feels...wintery air...