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January 25, 2007
The soup it was tomato
Somehow I got on a personal mailing list from our next-door neighbors (the only ones we’ve met here...STILL). The man works in television, the woman is a real estate agent and their house is very Fancy Pantsy, so they are always filming cooking shows and whatnot over there. She’ll send an email to her list saying “Don’t forget to watch us on the Food Network next week, we’re making flambé for fifty!” The other day, I got an email that said their house was being featured on an upcoming HGTV show "What You Get for Your Money" with the topic being: what you can buy for $700,000! I said to my husband that the next time I bump into them, I’m telling them our house is being featured on “What You Can Get for a Plate of Nachos and a Six Pack of Narragansett Beer”. I wonder how hard the film crew had to work to keep our house out of the shots. "Hey Steve, can you zoom in a bit? We're still getting a corner of that shed in the next lot." Whatever, we could have a big fancy, flambé-worthy house too. If we made a lot of money and then, you know. Saved it.
Today I had lunch with the charming owner of this charming shop. To my husband’s annoyance, I had been squealing over how cute her new little store was every time we drove by it (there is a dearth of cute in my area) and then lo! She appeared in my pre-natal yoga class, which I have gone to exactly three times. It was like we were destined to eat soup together.
We discussed how, in our first class, we had a yoga instructor who just sort of disappeared. She was a rather kooky, maybe 50-ish lady, who surveyed the class and announced, “Your vaginas are factories, mine is a playground!” and then chuckled delightedly to herself, which simultaneously impressed me and weirded me out. I don’t know if someone complained or if she decided her body was a wonderland that could not be ignored even for an hour a week or what, but she never showed up to teach again.
Speaking of vaginal playgrounds, I think I am leaving the offices of Dr. Hotshot, Dr. Ear Hairs, Dr.Old and Icky, and Dr. Lone and Therefore Unavailable Female to the gentler, more feminine embrace of a midwifery practice. I realize it is kind of late in the game to be changing things up (um, five weeks to go!?), but I am really not digging on the Creeptastic vibe I get from my current ob-gyn practitioners, and I just got a referral to this heretofore unknown (by me) mystical place of Female Birthing Power, Womb Enchantment and Crotch-Healing Crystals. I think I am up for the change, providing those soul sistas have got epidurals at the ready. My consultation with them is Monday, or should I say “moonday”. We shall see how it goes.
Posted by Max at January 25, 2007 07:15 PM