a curious picture

This photograph is fraught with subtext (click for large). The dictator laughs but this looks like a mean laugh. He seems as if he's taunting some of his off-camera subordinates, who cannot be anything but fawning and obsequious.

The women behind him are the more interesting to me. Some look like they'd rather be anyplace but there. Some look mortified. A few even appear undernourished, which is certainly a common problem in North Korea.

You have to wonder if and when North Korea will start to move toward any kind of democratic reform. It must be a horrible place to live.

Happy Halloween.

the ultimate act of murder

I visited the library yesterday to pick up more reading material. I usually have a list of certain books I want to read, but I also will browse the shelves for something interesting.

One thriller I considered was about a criminal who tricked and connived so that his victims would kill themselves. That got me to thinking on the way home -- that's arguably the worst kind of murder, to so demoralize and destabilize a victim that he or she does the dirty work for you. What a cruel and horrible way to die.

This brought to mind writers like Primo Levi and Tadeusz Borowski, who were so demoralized and depressed by their experiences in death camps that they committed suicide long after they were freed. When you treat someone so horribly that he or she ends up committing suicide, you are committing the ultimate act of murder, too.

I'm no expert in criminal law so I don't know if you can even be prosecuted for tricking or tormenting someone into killing him or herself. I hope so. It may not be as brutal as bashing someone over the head with a club or firing a shotgun at close range, but it's a whole lot crueler in many ways.

Sorry for such a grim subject. This just happened to be what I was thinking about when I wrote this, and some days the blog is my electronic doodle pad. I promise I'm actually much cheerier in person.

coming to america

It's starting to look like my husband may land another overseas gig early next year in the Bay Area for four to six weeks. If this becomes a reality, then Joey and I would tag along.

If it happens, it's not yet clear if my transportation costs would be picked up, but even if they're not, then all three of us would go anyway. The trip would be in the mid-February to mid-April range.

The Bay Area can still be somewhat wet and rainy in late winter and early spring, but beggars can't be choosers. If this happens, we'd carve out some extra weeks at the end of the time James would be working to visit West Coast friends and Midwest family.

Finding someone to house sit will not be a problem. We've used a friend of my husband's before, who is very diligent and the elderly homeowner likes him, too. We figure we'll probably leave the dog at the house with him, even though he would not be home during the day, because that would be best for continuity.

I'm not yet letting myself get excited because this is not a done deal, but it's looking better than most trip chances of late. James either is offered sure-thing gigs in places we do not want to visit or iffy chances in places where we'd really like to go. Hopefully this one will gel.

defies explanation

I've seen this picture a few times on the Internet used as a joke meme but have never found any satisfactory explanation about what is really happening. Is he the world's ugliest crossdresser? Mentally ill? A practical joker? Someone who lost a bet? An indifferent iconoclast?

Life is full of little mysteries, and sometimes we never learn their secrets. That can be frustrating, but not in a paralyzing way. Imagining the answer may actually be more interesting than the actual answer.

Joey is getting to be the age where he's starting to ask "why" about things. Developmentally he's a little early for that, so that might mean in six months we'll be peppered with "why" about everything fifty times an hour.

If he sees a tattooed man in a dress, however, I don't think I will have any satisfactory explanation for "why."

broadchurch v. gracepoint

Both my husband and I were big fans of the British drama Broadchurch, which appeared here on Australian television last year. Although it was shown in the US on BBC America and is available on DVD there, for some reason Fox decided to broadcast a remake called Gracepoint.

Unlike most American remakes of British shows, where only the broadest strokes are used, so far Gracepoint seems nearly a carbon copy of Broadchurch, except it's set in the US. Both series have the same lead (David Tennant), the same writer, the same director, and most importantly, the same plot.

Not just the broad plot, but point by point and beat by beat. Each American episode so far unfolds nearly the same way as the British series, with many of the same twists and reveals by the same parallel characters.

Producers of the American version insist the series will end differently than the British original, but the American series is adhering to the British source pretty closely, at least based on the four episodes that have aired.

So why the need for a remake? Given the original show was in English, why can't Americans watch that? Are Yanks so isolated and sheltered they can't understand British accents?

Australian television seems able, somehow, to absorb both British and American series and mix them in with Australian programming. People here don't seem to care about the source or the accents, as long as English is spoken, unlike American TV, where all the shows must be American with Americans speaking American.

The result is American TV is saddled with remakes that are never as good as the originals. It's dumbing down television for the lowest common denominator.

doubting a genius

When searching for quotes to put on my Tumblr recently, I came across this one by D. H. Lawrence: "In every living thing there is the desire for love."

Now D. H. Lawrence was a brilliant writer and probably a genius, but I don't think he really knows what he's talking about here. Sure, many people have a desire for love, but certainly not all people. You could probably say the same for dogs and horses and a few other types of domesticated creatures.

But what about slugs? Bugs? Trees? Weeds? They're all living things, but only the first two could be described as borderline sentient in the broadest sense. So-called lower forms of animals and all plants are focused entirely on self-protection and food. Plants aren't even sentient and have no consciousness.

Perhaps D. H. Lawrence was just being lovely and poetic when he said this, but he could hardly be taken on face value. If he meant to be, then I think he very much missed the mark. The love between two humans is infinitely greater than the hankering two weevils might have for each other

face job

Renee Zellweger turned up at a Hollywood event the other day looking nearly unrecognizable with a very different face. She was vague about what she had done and tried to dismiss the gossips with some amorphous chatter about happiness.

Gone is her cute, mischievous face. In its place is a new face that hardly seems to resemble who she used to be.

Various prominent plastic surgeons have commented in media interviews and said she's clearly had work done -- eyes, forehead, nose, lips, chin, and perhaps more.

IMHO she went way, way overboard, and I'm not alone, judging by some comment boards I've seen online. It's understandable to have a little nip and tuck to knock off a few years. But looking like you're ready for a new identity in the witness protection program is bizarre.

She's a brilliant actress, but I have to wonder if the radical change will lessen her chances for work. Who would want to cast a star who is no longer recognizable?

the patient is doing great

Surgery went without incident, and Joey is back home and recuperating. He's definitely subdued and wants to rub at his incision area, but is not really fussing otherwise.

As expected, he wants to yank off his bandage and examine what's there, but his modified playsuit has prevented that. I hate having to do that like he's a dog recovering with a surgical cone, but he's otherwise too young to understand.

The worst part of the experience was leading up to, trying to stay stress-free while preparing him for something unusual. Once it was over, then it all seemed like a easy downhill slope.

the enigmatic prisoner

I was reading an interesting article in The Atlantic about prison gangs in the United States. Given my fascination with tattoos, my attention was drawn to the photo appearing below of an inmate at Pelican Bay, a maximum security facility in far northern California.

The portion on his face cannot be easily overlooked. Facial tatts are probably job killers, but anyone who is at Pelican Bay probably won't be released to look for a job anytime soon. I would not be surprised if he received that tattoo in prison because of its less than professional look.

The scars along his abdomen are noticeable, too. I suspect they're from prison stabbings. That may be part of the reason he's in a maximum security facility, because he may have dished out some pretty serious violence concurrent to being stabbed. A lot of prisoners at Pelican Bay are sent there because they were violent in other facilities.

What stuck me most was his face. He has an interesting, wise, and almost kindly face. He looks like he could be someone who is soft spoken, gentle of nature, and easy to engage in an interesting conversation.

But, of course, Looks can be very deceiving. He's not in a maximum security prison because he sold cupcakes without a license. The swastika in his tattoo suggests he's not an enlightened, empathetic person.

I searched his name online and found out he has a pretty violent record. One of his convictions was for deliberately ramming his wife's car while she was driving with their young son, and then badly beating the poor woman on the spot after she was already seriously injured in the collision.

My husband teased me and said I should write to the inmate. "Send along a picture," he said. "You'll make his day and he'll probably write right back."

I think I will ignore that suggestion.

banging betty crocker

I have never understood what the appeal is of using a kitchen as a backdrop for a porn shoot. I can see a scene with performers where something is supposed to happen in a kitchen -- a bored housewife bangs an appliance technician.

But when it's just a backdrop for a solo shoot, it seems silly and not at all sexy. When men walk into a kitchen, do they think about sex or food? I'm guessing the latter, so there's no inherent sexual connection in a kitchen.

I'd have to think a man would find a naked woman sexier in an inviting bed in the bedroom as opposed to crawling around on a kitchen counter. In the latter locale, she seems a tad deranged.

surgery on thursday

My husband and I took Joey to see the surgeon yesterday. It was an uneventful visit, because he simply confirmed it was a hernia. He said it would be a simple operation, lasting about ten to twenty minutes.

He had an opening on Thursday, and I suggested we take that. No sense prolonging things, and that means less time for me to stress about the whole thing.

Intellectually, I know there's almost no risk of anything serious happening during an operation. Joey is more likely to break his neck playing than he is to have some kind of serious situation in surgery. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I can't wait for this to be over.

In the big picture, however, I should consider how fortunate we are. Some parents face much more serious health issues with their children, including some that are life-and-death.

giant sex toy scandal

Outraged Parisian moralists have vandalized and torn down an inflatable 80-foot-tall abstract sculpture installed in the Place Vendôme. It was officially titled "Tree" because of its resemblance to a giant Christmas tree, but American sculptor Paul McCarthy, who created the work, revealed it was also meant to resemble a giant buttplug.

One wonders how the self-appointed Puritans even know what a buttplug might be, let alone what one looks like. Given the sculpture was so innocuous, I can't see how any parent could complain.You simply tell your kid it's a big tree.

An unidentified moralist even confronted the artist in the street and slapped him three times as part of a tirade about the artist and his artwork. Then displaying a particular cowardice, the moralist ran away. Sounds like he needs a good buttplug to learn how to relax a bit.

the vagina and the ayatollah

A web publication named Vocativ has an unusual story up now about a YouTube video of an Iranian woman in emergency surgery who has a lightbulb removed from her vagina. Ignorant of the ways of sex, as often is the case in a highly repressed country, the patient apparently was masturbating with the lightbulb when disaster struck and she couldn't remove it.

You can read more about the matter and see the actual video via the link above, if you're so inclined.

The incident has caused a movement of sorts within Iran to relax institutionalized sexual rigidity. Iran's leaders live in a fairytale world where they think all sexual urges can be suppressed. The lightbulb incident underscores how spectacularly wrong they are.

Whenever I read things like this, I am thankful I live in a free country where people's bedrooms and sex lives are their own business and not that of some theocratic cleric.

sex with cars

An American man is claiming he has had sex with more than 700 cars. Because his revelation occurred on broadcast television, he could not be particularly specific about how this happens.

It sounds to me like he either (a) jerks off onto a car and/or (b) dry humps a car in some form of frottage. If it's the latter, I have to wonder if he could end up harming himself if he's not careful. Rubbing his junk on sharp chrome might cause him to revisit his thinking about this alleged fetish.

One wonders if any media outlet made any attempt to verify his claims. Did someone watch him? That's sort of disgusting to think about, given the man in question is no Adonis.

Whatever the answer, the man does seem rather shameless. He's either humiliating himself in front of countless millions by telling the truth or lying simply for the proverbial fifteen minutes of fame. What some people won't do to see themselves on TV.

definitely a hernia

To continue yesterday's post, Joey has been to the doctor, who confirmed that he indeed has a hernia. He recommended surgery now, saying there's no reason to wait.

Our son is 23 months old, and the MD said kids his age bounce back very quickly after hernia surgery. The only difficulty will be keeping him from being too active and/or from pulling off any bandages and fiddling with sutures. I've already figured how I can modify one or two of his rompers on the sewing machine to fasten on the back and keep his hands away from where they shouldn't be.

The next step is to see the surgeon, and that's been scheduled for Monday. The big question remains if there's any way we can prepare such a young child for the idea of surgery.

I'm thinking now, and my husband agrees, that we might be better off avoiding any details and making instead like he'll be embarking on an interesting journey to a new place. Joey is easily fascinated by anything bright, shiny, and different, so hopefully a pediatric surgical facility will fit the bill for him.

a troubling lump

Several times in the last few weeks, I noticed a small bulge on my son's lower abdomen when I took him out of his bath. By the time I set him down to examine more closely, it had disappeared again.

Yesterday after his bath, I saw it once more, but this time it remained and I felt it. It was soft and gave to the touch and seemed to cause him no discomfort.

My immediate thought was that it was a hernia. My husband had two when younger, one on each side, so he is the real expert in the house. By the time he returned home, however, the lump had disappeared again.

The lump reappeared later when I was changing Joey, so my husband finally had a chance to see when I stood up our son without pants. James said it seemed like the ones he had when his hernias appeared. I was able to take some pictures and sent them to my MD brother, who confirmed it looked like a hernia, but of course he's a shrink and not a pediatrician, so he only saw hernias on adult men when he was in his residency. Plus, he's ten thousand miles away and cannot examine Joey in person.

Needless to say, I'm taking Joey to the doctor tomorrow. The child seems to have utterly no discomfort and giggles when my husband or I push the lump, so at least he's not suffering in any way.

Doing some online research, I see two general approaches are taken with children of his age and hernias: surgery (eek) as an outpatient or a "watch and wait" method. The latter usually results in surgery at a not-too-much later date.

I'm not really worried because hernia surgery is so commonplace now. But of course I can't be worry free either -- strangers might be taking my son from my arms and setting on him with very sharp knives.

guy with a tramp stamp

Speaking candidly, the dude's lower back tatt is just plain ugly IMHO. The ink begs the question of why a man would even want a tramp stamp.

This particular one makes him look like the bitch to some skanky gangbanger. Why does it have a man's name spelled out beneath it? The scar is a tacky addition; that doesn't appear to be from surgery, so I'm guessing its owner was slashed in a fight or cut it in a car accident.

Despite the fact that the woman has a tranny's face, this is from a conventional heterosexual porn set. I've seen the rest of the photos in the group and it's ordinary vanilla material with her having all the necessary female accessories. Maybe doing porn makes her feel pretty and desirable because she is not a sexy woman.

before the beginning

My husband is out of town for a few days on a dive, so that means I share the bed with no one, which I don't like. I end up either having difficulty falling asleep or I wake up an hour or two early and cannot drift off again. The latter was the case this morning.

For whatever unknowable reason, I started thinking about the time before time existed. Here I have some problem with conventional theology. If God is real and created the universe, who created God? Where did he/she come from? How did God know how to create the universe? What tools did he use? Some kind of magic that created something out of nothing? How is that possible?

If we try a more scientific approach, the universe was created by the Big Bang. Well, who triggered that? What triggered it? How could something happen out of nothing and create this monumentally massive explosion and expansion? How? Why then and not, say, a trillion years later? What's out beyond where the Big Bang banged?

These questions are unanswerable, but they suggest holes in both these theories. There is a known unknown, so to speak.

I think such questions mean we humans are not as smart as we think we are. Who says we're supposed to just accept explanations with big holes like this? And what if we refuse to do so?

doormat woman

Last year I wrote two entries about Edward Snowden's girlfriend, who was reportedly out of the loop and dumped after her boyfriend left the country and the NSA story broke.

Now it turns out she's been living with him in Russia for quite some time. So what can we deduce from this?

If she truly never knew what his plans were just before he left the US and moved half way around the world after the way he treated her, she ends up looking like the world's most passive doormat. Hey, you were treated like shit, but you crawled back with no dignity and no small personal sacrifice because you love him so much.

Or maybe the jilted girlfriend story was a scam all along, but the media and the rest of the world fell for it. That would mean she knew in advance what he planned before he left and agreed to join him later wherever he happened to settle. IMHO this seems like a more plausible scenario, maybe because I'd like to think the woman isn't a complete dolt.

The third scenario is she initially was furious with him but then forgave him as the NSA revelations began to be published. But that still means she's something of a doormat. If he truly did leave here behind and unknowing, then I see that as an unforgivable act of betrayal that would block any future chance of forgiveness.

A relationship is about trust. If he truly did not trust her with his secret and she was left behind unknowing, then I can't see how she would ever trust him again.

zombie cake

I saw this posted online: someone spent hours lovingly crafting a unique zombie cake. It is truly one of a kind.

At the same time, I think it's utterly unappetizing. A zombie is a rotting, festering, walking corpse, reeking of rotting flesh, attracting flies and harboring maggots and who knows what else

So a cake made to look like a zombie IMHO is as appealing as a roadkill cake or a toxic landfill cake or a nuclear waste cake. You just don't want to go there.

When I lived in Vegas, I went to a coworker stripper's birthday party for her young son, who was totally into the Incredible Hulk. So his grandmother spent hours making him a personalized Hulk cake. It was shaped like the Hulk with bright green frosting.

It was more appealing as a cake than a zombie but that's not saying much. The icing was a vivid, iridescent green not unlike antifreeze for your car or a cleaning product. The kids didn't care, but the adults picked at it with no enthusiasm. Who wants to eat the Hulk's green armpit or his crotch?

naked in high-heel boots

My husband has always had something of a boot fetish. He doesn't really know why. If I put on nothing but knee-high boots and my birthday suit, he's putty in my hands.

He doesn't want to be humiliated or stepped on. He doesn't want to rub up against them or lick them. He just really likes the sight of a naked woman wearing only high leather boots. He's hardly alone in his proclivity. Many men have this kink.

Sex with my boots on really floats his boat. When that happens, he can feel the leather when my legs are draped on his shoulders, so that might be part of the appeal for him. Alternatively, If I ride him while he lies prone on his back, he can feel the boots against his hips.

I am happy to oblige his little twisted fantasy, but I always have to remember to take them off after sex before I fall asleep. When you're wearing tight boots asleep for hours on a hot night, you wake up feeling like your feet and calves are in a sauna.

I have to imagine if you ask many men why they like seeing naked women in boots, they can't really explain it. They like what they like and that's that.

titty twister

Because I have sensitive breasts, pictures like this always make my skin crawl a bit. If I did what she's doing, that would really hurt.

I have no trouble being touched on my tits. Gentle nuzzling, massaging, kissing, sucking -- all that is fine. But it hurts if there's any sort of mauling or grabbing or pulling or twisting.

My boobies have been this way ever since puberty. I remember asking a doctor when I was about twelve or so why they were so sensitive. She assured me that would go away soon. It never really did.

When I was pregnant, I anticipated my future child might end up being rather rough on my rack. That's why as soon as he started getting touchy feely, I would gently take hold of his hand(s) and keep those occupied for him. That almost always satisfied him as long as he had something to squeeze.

Toward the end of breast feeding when I was weening him onto a bottle, he wasn't above just grabbing tit if he could. I usually was able to thwart this by watching his hands if my chest was within range, although he did succeed a few times.

Maybe this will end up making him a breast man when he's an adult. He'll be fascinated by a woman's tits and won't be able to keep his hands off of her. I can hear my future daughter-in-law now: "Joey's real sweet, but he just won't leave my boobies alone."

clown hair

I don't understand why a pretty woman would do this to her hair. She has a lovely face and smile, but the first thing you see is that clown hair. You don't even notice what should be her most obvious feature -- her beauty.

My theory with hair coloring is: be undetectable. I've colored my hair at times but always with this goal in mind. So if it's not a color in nature, skip it.

She is Nanna Oland Fabricius, a well known Danish singer and actress. This is a look she apparently sported for a number of months, so it apparently wasn't for a role.

It's better than a tattoo, however. This can always be hidden with another color. Hopefully she won't next opt for lime green.

forbidden fantasy

My father-in-law is a nice-looking man for someone his age and in a lot better shape than his peers. Nonetheless, he is still an elderly man.

I have seen pictures of him when he was a widower in his thirties and forties. It's no wonder he was quite the ladies man. He was stunning in a movie idol sort of way.

Like many women, I have the fantasy of meeting a handsome George Clooney caliber man in the 45-55 range together with his twentysomething ladykiller son and seducing the pair of them in a ménage à trois. I told my husband I could get into seducing his dad when he was in his forties concurrent to seducing him when he was in his twenties.

"Me and my dad, together, in the bed at the same time?" he asked with a somewhat horrified expression.

I answered in the affirmative.

The horrified expression turned to pantomime of a dog vomiting roadkill. "That's disgusting kitten. Don't tell me things like that. I don't want to know."

The picture below on the Garm's Kiss blog awakened this fantasy again. I don't think this idea disgusts as many women as it disgusts men. Why is that?

Maybe this has something to do with humans' more primitive roots, when a man had to fight other males to protect his harem. The idea of sharing is an anathema to that instinct.

have some tasty solent green

Aeon magazine has an interesting new article that poses the question: if you could avoid the time-consuming task of food shopping, preparation, and eating and instead ingested a daily supplement in just seconds that would satisfy all your dietary and nutritional needs, would you? Would you rather have an hour or two of extra time every day rather than that devoted to shopping, preparation, and eating?

A southern California engineer and inventor has developed a product called Soylent that provides "every substance the body needs to survive, plus a few extras shown to be beneficial." (If you're familiar with the classic film of similar name, you should know this is an inside joke and the product does not not recreate the substance from that movie.)

The article makes pretty clear this approach results in two big problems: you're still hungry after consuming Soylent, and the stuff is like eating vanilla-flavored silt. My, that sounds tasty. No real mention of the effect on your gastro system and beyond.

I will readily admit, and I'm sure others will too, that on certain days I don't feel like shopping or fixing food or there just isn't time. But on other days I love to cook, love to see family and friends enjoy what I've made, and love the community and familial time around the table. Eating is social as much as it is necessary.

One way to handle time and food prep for me is easy: once or twice a week, I make a meal that will also convert into handy leftovers. Then if a fast meal is needed within a few days, five minutes in the micro takes care of everything.

I'll pass on Soylent, thank you, even if it isn't really people.

grandma's big day

This woman looks about 70, but she's actually celebrating her 100th birthday. I want to be like this when I'm 100 -- full of piss and vinegar. Look at her smile!

About once a week, I visit the woman whose house we care for. She's in a home for the aged, where most of the residents are quite frail, including her.

There is one man, however, who is somewhat younger and seems to be in very good health. He doesn't seem to have dementia, from at least the conversations I've had with him, and he moves around with relative ease and without a walker or cane.

On more than one occasion, when I've asked him how he's doing, he'll say something along the lines of "just waiting to die." I think that is so sad -- he has so much more going for him than most of the people there, yet his attitude is much worse than many of them.

I don't want to get old, but when I do, I don't want to die too soon.

historical snappy answers

When I visited my grandparents for the summer when I was a child, I sometimes read through a stack of old Mad magazines and books in the attic that had belonged to my uncle.

One of my favorite Mad features was the "Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions" column. I admit that I still remember some of them and have used one or two on occasion. My all-time favorite was for someone who asks "are you waiting in line?" with the reply "no, I'm suddenly paralyzed and unable to move." Or something to that effect.

I like this list of alleged historical snappy answers and retorts to stupid comments and questions which I found online. I don't know if the quotes are real but, if so, that makes them all the sharper. If one is armed with a sharp wit, then one has a duty to use it.

Liberace on LSD

We watched the DVD last night of the most recent film incarnation of The Great Gatsby, the one with Leonardo DiCaprio. I have seen several other film adaptations and read the book a number of times. As an Australian, my husband has no particular familiarity with the source novel.

In short, never have I seen a movie that so completely missed the tone and world and concept of the source material. If you gave Liberace 40 cups of coffee laced with LSD, this is the movie he would make. It was much more a Broadway musical trifle than serious literary adaptation.

Although the story itself was fairly faithful to the novel, the tone, acting, design, and look of the movie was so completely over the top that it makes a Batman movie look like serious Shakespeare in comparison.

The book, considered by many to be one of the greatest American novels of all time (if not the greatest), is a study in naturalism. The class contrasts are stark and clear. The characters are richly developed, concisely portrayed, and candidly drawn.

The DiCaprio movie completely abandons that. Everything is so highly stylized and silly that it becomes a live-action cartoon that makes Las Vegas seem like an Amish settlement. Any pretense of historical accuracy is completely tossed out the window.

It is, in short, a loud, showy, brassy mess while the original book is the polar opposite. What a spectacular disappointment.

decidedly creepy

On the positive side, this tattoo is very well done. The shading and artistry really give it a three-dimensional effect. You stare at it waiting for it to blink.

On the negative side, it's really creepy. Imagining waiting in line behind him for an hour. You'd be crawling out of your skin. Big Brother Is Watching.

This was featured on a new A&E program Epic Ink, a reality show about the staff and clients at a tattoo studio in Portland, Oregon. The full episode (number seven), titled "Got My Eye on You," will be archived online for several weeks.

a curious dependency

One night not long after we began living together, my then-boyfriend (and now husband) asked if we could turn on the English subtitles for a DVD we were watching of an American film. It wasn't that he had hearing problems; he was having trouble understanding the American accents.

He still has a problem sometimes with this, no matter that he's now been married to an American for five years. It's not "mainstream" accents but regional ones, particularly those from New Yawk and the deep South.

I still sometimes have trouble with certain Australian accents or accents from the northern part of the British Isles. As a result, we usually turn on the subtitles to whatever we're watching on DVD.

Now that Joey is older, he sometimes will still be up when we put on a DVD and will chatter away while playing on the floor in front of us. So subtitles are now necessary just because of the competing soundtrack.

I've noticed, however, that I no longer like to watch DVDs or movies and shows online unless they have subtitles. I can hear what they're saying perfectly fine, but I just like reading the subtitles.

I suspect the reason is because I can read the subtitles faster than the actors speak, so I can watch other things on the screen. We recently watched a DVD with no subtitles and I found it annoying, which of course is perfectly ridiculous considering I had no problem hearing the actors.

enough with the complaining

Another month has passed without getting pregnant. That prickles at me but not with the intensity of the first time we tried to get pregnant.

I'm more comme ci comme ça this time. If we have but one wonderful, loving, happy child, then how can we complain?

Too many people complain about what they don't have and overlook their blessings. My husband could beat me and my son could have some terrible illness. Fortunately, I don't have those kinds of misfortunes in my life.

I've admitted to my husband that there is always a little bright side when I start my period again: avoiding the pregnancy process itself. I just wish science would hurry up with those artificial wombs already.

I don't think I'll ever embrace this "pregnancy is wonderful" mindset. The baby and parenthood is wonderful. Nine months of cramps, swollen legs, a tortured bladder, and more is not wonderful.

Looking for a photo to use with this post, I came across this gem: "22 Cringeworthy Ways To Tell The World You're Pregnant." Some people just love to humiliate themselves.