Too Many Books

my little polka-dot-peanut For first time parents, bringing home a little bundle of joy from the hospital is a big milestone. I'm sure that every parent can recall this emotional event -- the fear you felt getting behind the wheel. Is the car seat installed correctly? Is her head tilted too far to the left? Maybe we should turn up the heat a little more! Yes, this beautiful moment is marked with just a bit of anxiety, isn't it? When we brought Stella home on Thursday, December 16th, we were feeling like every other new parent: scared out of our wits! We had some bonus stress: Louisville was covered in a blanket of sparkling ice. The sleet and freezing rain had come as expected Wednesday night, and cars and trees and ground were all coated in a crystal glaze. Schools and businesses were closed -- even the bank where I work (when I'm not busy bringing new life into the world) was on a two hour delay. We didn't leave the hospital until late afternoon, and after...

Over a year ago, my mom and dad decided to clean clutter out of their own house and, in an attempt to streamline, they went ahead and gave me boxes of things they had saved from my childhood -- if I'm honest, things I didn't really expect I see until they died or something gruesomespice like that. Whatever, it's fine. I'm not complaining about it, even though it isn't like I really have the room in my house for boxes of cards I was given when I was five, or worksheets and stories I wrote in the second grade. I hadn't even really dug into those boxes until last night. I found one little "story" I wrote (and we'll use the word story lightly here) called MY FUCHER. (It took me a minute to realize I'd meant MY FUTURE.) Hilar. My Fucher I want to mary a boy who will stay home all day and clean the house. I would not stay home. I would work as a singer or hope to. I want to have a babey girl. I would name her Lynn or Trecey or Nciol. I woul...

I wish I could say I remember when I got the bear, that it was a gift from an important relative. But, I don't remember. I have no recollection of receiving him: no memory of unwrapping him from a box or pulling him from a gift bag and saying, "Oh my gosh! I wanted this bear so much." It could have been a Christmas gift, or something I got on my birthday. He might have come directly from a plastic store bag, given to me at some random moment rather than on a special occasion, or could have been a toy I earned for being a good girl one day in Wal-Mart. Maybe the reason I don't remember the moment I received Snuggles is because it just seems like he has always been there. Without shame, I will admit that I slept with that little guy until a man started sharing my bed on a regular basis. These days, he lives in my closet, in a tote bag with some lesser-revered stuffed animals. He's actually in pretty good shape: still has two eyes and a little nose firmly a...

Seriously, it has just been one of those days. I want to regale you with something witty and whatnot, but I just don't have the energy today, so don't expect anything too earth shaking. Here goes: When I was in the fourth grade, I had a friend named Tina. Tina told me she was a model, and that she had a boyfriend who was in college and that he was also her photographer. I told her that I was a model, and that I also had a boyfriend who was in college and was my photographer. I thought she was lying, I thought she knew I was lying. I thought she knew that I thought she was lying. (Et cetera. I told you this post was going to be uber stupid.) So, Tina and I would talk on the phone after school pretty much every single day, and one day I told her that Trevor (oh, that was my fake boyfriends fake name) was at my house and that she could talk to him if she wanted. She wanted to, so I was all, "Hang on, he's in the other room, let me get him." Then I disgui...