or something and stuff

Just a few things here.

This is why I write and read blogs. There's definitely something cathartic, for me, about writing. I keep a journal (I've been keeping it, in a series of books, on and off for sixteen years now), I write here, I write letters to Pic, I recently even wrote a letter to Cardo when I just couldn't force my vocal cords to speak the words that needed to be spoken. There's also something incredibly helpful to me in reading others' writing, relating to others even if I don't know these people personally. For a very long time, being a mother was a very isolating experience for me (because I made it so, I get this, but...) and feeling a connection with other moms has been so relieving/therapeutic/something great. It's definitely telling that eighteen of the blogs I have bookmarked could be categorized "mommy blogs" (although I'm unsure of how these women would categorize their blogs or if they'd even categorize them at all).

And now for something(s) completely different.

What is with the overwhelming amount of packaging that most crap is wrapped in? A couple of years ago, we actually went to Toys R Us (I loathe Toys R Us, have for quite some time, and the two ventures we made there early in Pic's life will, I hope, be the only ones) and bought Pic a Cabbage Patch Doll. When I was young, I loved these dolls. I'm kind of over it right now, but we have had this doll sitting around in this box for two years now and I thought it was time to release her to Pic's sometimes-gentle hands. It took me almost ten minutes to get her out of the freaking box. Her name is Katie Nina, although Pic can "officially" change it one day if she wants (I'm rooting for Ignacia, so we can call her Nacha...I've killed the name Ignacio by feminizing it, but too bad). We tried for a doll that resembled Pic as much as possible, darker hair, eyes and skin. (Of course, this baby has twelve times more hair than Pic actually does.)
















And.

I'm rereading Bridget Jones's Diary and I can't figure out why. I didn't remember that I didn't like it all that much the first time I read it and now that I've begun, I feel compelled to finish it again. I hate that she (Bridget) believes that weighing anything over 120 pounds makes her a huge, blobby monster. It frustrates me because it's ridiculous...and because I can completely relate to feeling that same kind of thing about myself and I don't like that about me. So, people, I need book recommendation for the summer please. Books to accompany my comps reading list, that is.

So.

Now, I'm going to go watch the rest of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and eat lemon poppyseed bread (from House of Bread, of course).