Can This Marriage Be Saved?
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French Knotting the Loose Ends

This is a hodgepodge related mostly to a handful of recent comments.

* My grammar is terrible. I know this and I blame everybody but me (grammar joke- alert- grammar joke.) My spelling, though, is quite good and I am quietly amused by some of the more common spelling errors that one sees in certain corners of the Internet. Namely, the miscarrying crowd seems to "loose" a lot of babies. Because I am evil I always get a chuckle out of that. Was I able to wear white to both of my weddings because my virginity had been merely loosened?

* Loose ends! Tee hee. Anyway, Patrick's digestion is improving nicely, thank you for the sympathy and suggestions. He cheerfully ingested two days worth of something prescriptive- can't recall the name but it mellifluously and discreetly incorporated the root "lax" in there somewhere. He is now back to a no-nonsense, high-fiber morning routine. I eat Honeycombs and he gets to scarf bits of the box. Ha ha! I am joking, of course. I don't get up that early.

* I did, indeed, buy the sex-pants, I mean the low-rise Gap jeans, and sure enough they are so fabulous I probably would not ever remove them if it were not for the fact that they keep getting ripped from my body (because, you know, yo.) I have taken to wearing my delectable new jeans but wielding an umbrella to protect my virtue.

* Actually, I AM a cheap date and I am looking for one in Chicago on the 22nd. Blue October (see sidebar) is playing Schuba's and it occurs to me that I could just, you know, go. What's a six hour drive when you live in the middle of fucking nowhere? This is how I see the day going: feed Patrick lunch, kiss husband and child (remove husband's hands from pockets of new fantabulous jeans,) drive to Chicago in the fast car, eat three dinners at my three favorite Chicago restaurants, rock, confess to band that I am a suburban housewife who has just driven six hours to see their show, drink with band until bars close at 4, explain that I couldn't- couldn't possibly- go on tour with them but thank you, stay at the Drake, drive home with a McMuffin. What do you think? Are you in?

* Second child, second child... I feel like I took a lot of pressure off a sore tooth when I realized that I do not absolutely positively HAVE TO have another baby. The sense that life would be meaningless without Patrick deux was driving me to keep trying month after month, miscarriage after miscarriage because if this one did not work then that one would- so, go go go. Right now I am taking a procreative sabbatical. It feels great.

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