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4 kittens

Longstanding Lack of Ambition

Posted on 2017.02.19 at 21:39
Jammies wants to sign the big kids up for soccer camp. I think it's fine, but I also remember hating soccer camp, so I have that in the back of my mind.

It's funny - I loved sports, I love xfit currently. But I'm a pretty shitty athlete. I'm the slowest, the weakest, and so on. Sports camps were relentless in reminding me that I was the slowest and weakest, much worse than regular practices. I just like running and trying, okay? I'm a regular inspiration. (The worst was one summer when my mom signed me up for a swim team. We'd all start swimming a lap. Everyone would finish when I was about a quarter done. They'd wait for me. The moment I finished, the coach would start everyone again. I never got a break, and I hated everything about it, and eventually the coach would let the kids start without me, which was embarrassing, but also a relief. At that point I could piss away the rest of the practice.)

I'm pretty coordinated. Eventually I learned to sprint pretty fast, too. One thing that annoys me about xfit is that we're training in that dumb eternal way that grown ups do, but nothing requires any coordination.


Mimi is here, Jammies is not. Jammies is off golfing for a weekend with some love-bros.

Mimi mused, "By the time I had four kids, Jammies was a huge help. He watched and played with them, later he drove them all over town..."
I said, "Me too! I also couldn't do it without Jammies."


The last I shared here, the police had found a chihuahua in the neighbor's house. N, who lives across the street, was keeping the chihuahua and the chow.

The neighbor showed up the next day - we figured the landlord had posed some ultimatum to him about getting his stuff out. He didn't ask about his dogs. He left.

But then! Another week or so later, the neighbor came back one last time, and happened to see the chow in the front yard across the street.  He went over and demanded his dog. N said no. They called the cops. The cops said that since N had not called the Humane Society or the cops in the first place, the dog was not his property and he had to give it back.

So N gave the dog back. The neighbor posted a snarky Facebook status ("When you find out your neighbor stole your dog smh. People have no authority coming and taking baby. Now cops are here.")  Keep in mind that it had been about four weeks since the neighbor had inquired about or acknowledged this dog's existence.

The neighbor took the chow back to their home town. The neighbor did not ask about the chihuahua. I feel a little sick for the chow, knowing that it is probably always chained up and alone. We've made up some comforting lies about why they might be kinder to the dog now that they're back home, but mostly who knows.


I think that the fat from my fat injection has all been absorbed. I think it happened in the past month. After my surgery in October, wearing prosthetics got noticeably more comfortable. But in the past few weeks, it's reverted to being uncomfortable. That kind of sucks.


I spent Friday updating my CV. Just for a summer application, nothing career-changing. It was demoralizing to see how short and lame it is. To view my productivity through the lens of someone outside Heebie U - I have not been very productive over the past ten years. There's no line in a CV for you to say, "But I filled my free time with great hobbies and blogging and was pregnant a bunch, and you'd probably like me, if you met me in person!"  There's no category for, "I kind of find research boring, and I like teaching, and even better I like not being at work a whole lot!"

Also, I have not gotten a single award or recognition in my eieven years at Heebie U. (Actually, I got one for Civic Engagement.) Mostly they require you to apply - submit your name, CV, small blurb about yourself - and if I were the kind of person who applied for awards, wouldn't I have a more ambitious career track in the first place?

When I was a kid, I never asked for chores to earn extra money. I didn't feel like doing anything extra. I could never think of anything I wanted to save up money for, anyway.  I liked the idea of baby-sitting, but not the reality of it. But before I realized that I didn't enjoy it, I told my mom that I didn't know how to get any baby-sitting jobs.

From then on she pestered me about putting myself out there, letting people know I was interested in babysitting. My mom doesn't understand why putting yourself out there is the worst. If you try to explain, she'll out-rational you. There are plenty of rational reasons why you should put yourself out there.

One day, my mom happened to use the phrase, "Baby-sitting jobs aren't going to just come knocking at the door," in the course of one of these lectures. Shortly after, there was a knock at the door.  A mother had seen me walking home from the bus stop, and asked if I'd like to babysit her two year old daughter during Gator football games. The timing was so great.

The little two year old's name was Victoria, and babysitting her was the dullest thing - I just didn't get how to have fun with a two-year old. I'd never been around a two year old; I'd never seen an adult have fun with a two year old.  The house in which I babysat Victoria did not belong to her family. A big group of friends all tailgated there, and then walked to the game, and I was left with a two year old, a lot of potato chips, and some Disney movies. It sucked. There were no toys, or not any toys Victoria found interesting, and I didn't know that when you're bored, you should take a kid outside and just go for a walk. It sucked.

Also - I definitely never changed her diaper. I hope she was potty trained, but it's also possible it just never occurred to me.

I think I'm going to go hang out with my mother-in-law, instead of blogging. It's been kind of a quiet week, anyway. 

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