i love my car...to an unreasonable degree. it's a 2000 jeep wrangler sahara package (white with tan soft top and green interior) that my grandparents gave me when i graduated high school. it has a deer guard on the front, extra lights, and is a manual. it only has 43,000 miles on it despite it's having been to canada and back in the first year i had it. it's a car that demands to be driven. i feel like a silly teenager when i drive it and even though it is completely impractical for a family like ours, i don't see myself getting rid of it. ever.
i have hatch marks on the top of each foot that i refer to as my crucifixion scars. when i was being staged for hodgkin's i had a lymphangiogram. the incisions left little crosses on my feet and the dye, my whole body radioactive. i love the scars.
i'm ashamed that i have no musical talent whatsoever. i feel like i've let my dad down in that regard.
i'm completely vain about my small waist. i'm not particularly proud of any other part of my body and it's through genetics only that i've been blessed with a nice waist to hip ratio. i don't really remember being worried about stretch marks or saggy breasts or anything else before or after my pregnancies but dear god, please spare my waist.
that said, i cannot stand to have my waist touched by anyone.
i've been in love five times.
i've had a vacillating relationship with food over the past ten years. i struggled a lot with body issues in high school and didn't really enjoying eating, but spent a lot of time thinking about eating. then, when i was diagnosed with cancer at 17, food became something different. i felt so incredible queasy from chemo/radiation that i basically lived on chocolate power bars and chicken broth for 12 days between chemo cycles. then, when i started to feel less sick i'd get immense cravings for red meat (because my blood counts were down), something that i didn't eat a lot of before. it wasn't until i got pregnant with parker that i really enjoyed eating, like i did when i was a child. now, most days, eating good food brings me such great happiness. i feel so blessed to have a family of cooks, each one better than the next, and to live where i do, where the availability of fresh food isn't affected at all by season and the variety is incredible. i've been known (on several occasions) to start crying when d walks in with bags of groceries. it feels like love to me.
i wonder what my life would have been like if i had said 'yes' more often.
my memories are categorized almost solely by music, which means i cannot loan, sell, or give away any cd i've ever aquired. i make mix cd's frequently, in part to mark the time clearly in my own head.
i still sometimes think i'd like to go into forensic psychology. i'd like to work for the county crime lab, the medical examiner, or in a prison as i had planned to do before i lost my stomach for it (while i was pregnant with p). needless to say, i got my stomach back.
i hate christmas eve night. it's the one day of the year i really feel like a single parent, stuffing stockings alone. (d is in socal with d2). i have a hard time not remembering the things that were going on two years ago, how worried i was about losing the kids somehow.
i'm glad that things happened the way they did. i'm glad for her ex. i'm glad for the cancer. i'm glad he left us. i'm glad because it all forced me to change in ways i might not have otherwise.