Let's start with my lost vanity:
The thing is, this isn't what you might think. It's about the word, "vanity". I can not explain how this has happened, but ever since we moved into this house I have a hard time remembering the name of the thing in your bathroom with the sink and the mirror. I know it's a counter, but I also know that's not the word I'm looking for. I picture in my mind the brown and cream marble countertops in the bathroom as I try to drag the word to the forefront of my mind and then I start sputtering words to describe the area I'm referring to. I must be getting into a repeated mental block not unlike when you think that new neighbor's new name is Betsy or wait, was it Stacy and you're remembering it wrong again? You can talk yourself out of the correct word that way (or at least I can). I'll hear my husband ask, "did you see my name badge?" I'll answer, "it's in the bathroom on your sink, er, counter...dresser...vanity!" We both think it's both funny and pitiful at this point.
Stay-at-home Mom Costume:
There was a dad at the neighborhood Halloween costume party on Saturday that was dressed up as a, "Stay-at-home mom". He had on yoga pants, athletic shoes and a tight workout shirt. He was carrying his Vera Bradley diaper bag around on his shoulder and had his cell phone tucked into the chest area of his shirt. We all thought it was hilarious, especially because he was pulling off being a mom really well too. The thing is, he nailed it. It's what I wear, including sticking my phone in my shirt if I don't have my purse with me or a pocket handy. It's what we're all wearing to the toddler play dates and the neighborhood yoga classes. I am the stereotype I realized. So funny.
Five Years of Twitter:
I rarely use Twitter. In fact, I'm not sure how long it's been since I last posted: possibly over a year. From time to time I check to see if anything interesting is happening with the few people I follow. What I didn't realize was how long I've had a Twitter account when I got their, "happy five year anniversary" email last week.
Situationally Ignorant:
Sometimes I realize how not "with it" I am. I went with some girlfriends on our street to a gala this past week. It was one of those things where you pay a lot of money to get in so you can then spend money at the shops there. While we were walking around having a good time, I realized I don't know a lot about popular brands, the "in" restaurants, where to go for a spa treatment, and the latest fashion styles. My friends don't care about status and don't buy something just because it's expensive, but they all seemed to be more in tune with the hot things, places and foods than I was.
Park Engaged and You're Welcome:
A few weeks ago I parked on a mostly flat parking lot and started to get out of the car. Have you had that feeling before where you think your car is rolling, only to find it's the vehicle beside you that's moving and you're staying still? I had that feeling, but in this case, my car—the Tesla—was the one doing the moving. Not to worry though, the Tesla noticed there was no weight in the driver's seat and before I could even react it put the car in park for me. Thanks to whomever added that feature in at Tesla Motors.
Someone Once Said:
This line was the very last line of the last episode of the new Cosmos series. It's a quote from Carl Sagan. I'd never heard this quote before and I can't tell you how many time's I've thought about it after watching the show...
From [the] distant vantage point [of deep space], the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there—on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity—in all this vastness—there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known, so far, to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment, the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.
The Big Boy Update: My son was talking about Pahmer again in the car on the way to school. He told me about a second person named, Palm. When I asked who Palm was, he told me he was Pahmer's grandfather. I didn't think too much about it until this afternoon as I was putting him in the car after lunch he told me about Pahmer and his grandfather, Palm again. We may well be inviting them to Christmas dinner at the rate my son talks about them.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: I was in the tub yesterday morning and my daughter decided she wanted to get in too so she got in. A few minutes later I noticed my daughter was working on washing my knee—specifically the birthmark on my knee—to see if she could wash off the dirt.
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