ChgoRed, Girl Editor

I Am SO Marrying this Man

Yesterday I spent a moment on the forums at Nola.com, where hurricane survivors are filling the boards with messages like, “Looking for…[my mother/my co-worker/my friend]” and “Has anyone heard about this [neighborhood/hospital/street]?” It’s heartbreaking to see people stake so much hope on someone else’s scrap of information.  I can only imagine what it must be like to write such a message.

And yet, in the middle of all that, someone posted:

“To anyone familiar with the four resident cats of Cafe Beignet on Royal St.: On a recent trip to N.O. from Chicago, my husband and I, who are big animal lovers, 'adpoted' these cats and would visit them nightly with treats and food and lots of attention, and we can't help but feel sick and worried wondering if they are well and made it through the storm. If there is anyone in the FQ who could eventually check in on them and give us an update that they are hopefully o.k., we would greatly appreciate it! Here are some pictures: [link removed]Long live NOLA! We are keeping you in our thoughts and prayers!”

Lady, please.  These people are facing looting, death, disease, widespread destruction, and societal disruption, but you’re worried about some cats you met on vacation once?  I love animals, too, but really.  I mean, really.

The bright spot:  When I described her chipper, incredibly oblivious message to The Boy, he immediately deadpanned, “How did your mother get on that message board?”

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse

From Nola.com:

Children's Hospital under siege

Tuesday, 11:45 p.m.

Late Tuesday, Gov. Blanco spokeswoman Denise Bottcher described a disturbing scene unfolding in uptown New Orleans, where looters were trying to break into Children's Hospital.

Bottcher said the director of the hospital fears for the safety of the staff and the 100 kids inside the hospital. The director said the hospital is locked, but that the looters were trying to break in and had gathered outside the facility.

The director has sought help from the police, but, due to rising flood waters, police have not been able to respond.

Bottcher said Blanco has been told of the situation and has informed the National Guard. However, Bottcher said, the National Guard has also been unable to respond.

Meanwhile, in the Superdome, the toilets aren't working, there is no A/C, the stench is said to be horrendous, two people have died and one may have been assaulted. And now there is a report on the same site--unconfirmed as of yet--that they have run out of food. Let's pray this isn't true.

Public Service Announcement

If you ever have to replace a CD drive in your computer, and people tell you it will be easy, beware.  Especially if they use phrases like, "Pop the old one out, pop the new one in."

Why beware?  Because they are fucking lying to you.

In other words, so far this project has not gone well.  45 minutes of frustration has yielded me:  Three new grey hairs; one cut thumb; a CPU that looks like the Scarecrow from "The Wizard of Oz" with his guts pulled out; and a defective CD drive that will budge a little backwards or forwards, but is ultimately not interested in going anywhere.  "Pop it out."  Right.  To paraphrase James Lileks, Liar, liar, red CompUsa polo shirt on fire.

Aside from the obvious problems--computer in pieces, drive stuck--there's another wrinkle.  When I cut my thumb, I might have gotten some blood in the CPU.  I read "The Mangler"; I know how that works.

It Had to Happen Eventually

"All the things of my life I loved not in arriving, but in leaving; not in giving but in taking away."

-- Marina Tsvetaeva.

When they tell you that getting married is a lot of work, they aren't kidding. I don't mean the little things--dress, rings, flowers. I mean the big, grown-up not-so-fun stuff that has to be sorted out.

We had the Kid Talk last week. And again last night.

In almost three years of dating, we've danced around or away from this issue a lot, and never really reached a decision. I'll be honest: our lives right now are pretty nice. We eat out more than we should, sleep without interruption, and spend our free time as we like. Thanks to age and income, we have a lot of liberty. It's a good time to not have the responsibilty of a child. Half the time, we don't even want them. (And before you ask, this is not a "clock" thing. Unless I accidentally swallowed my watch, I do not have a "clock." I wasn't even a very good babysitter.)

So we talked about that. About the worry that one of us would be the Fun Parent who sits on the couch and watches cartoons with the kids, while the other would be the Bad Cop who just wants them to go clean their rooms already. (Guess which job I got.) About what it would mean as far as rearranging our lives. About whether it was even a good idea for us to have kids together at all. For his part, The Rev is justifiably concerned about passing down a history of ADD, depression, and other health problems. I have my share of family illnesses--cancer, heart problems, kidney problems, two parents with diabetes, etc.

Oh, and the seizures.

As it turns out, in addition to keeping me seizure-free for 11 years, the seizure meds may decide everything for us. My research has been admittedly limited, but it all seems to say that seizure meds lead to an increased risk of birth defects (facial and/or mental) and using a combination of meds (like I take) can increase that risk by 30%. We're not comfortable with that, or with the options it leaves us, which are basically, "Get pregnant on meds and risk defects," or "Quit the meds, get pregnant, and risk having a seizure."

Gee.

And the thing is, I knew this. I've known this for a while. But that whole while, I wasn't engaged. Marriage was still a very nebulous possibility. So last week was the first time that I really felt the weight of those choices, and how it means I will probably never have my own biological children.

I didn't expect it to upset me so much. I didn't expect it to upset me at all. But apparently at some point I got my heart set on the idea of some redheaded little girls. I just didn't realize it until last week, and it's been on my mind ever since.

The obvious door #3 is adoption, and we've been talking about that. I'm still stuck on the idea of my own, though. Geneaology is important to me. I like the idea that I can see my face in a picture of my great-grandmother. Much to his chagrin, I like the idea of a little boy who looks like the Rev, nose and all. I would want those connections with my children. And I feel like a shit for even having slight reservations about it, because I know people who've adopted, and their kids are wonderful.

At this point, all I know is that we have a lot more talking to do.

Continuing the Transition to All Wedding, All the Time...

Along with her many other wedding ideas, my mother has mentioned something so upsetting, so beyond the pale that when she suggested it, my first thought was: "Dear sweet Jesus, not in this lifetime."  Since then I've resisted all opportunities to discuss it with her, in hopes that maybe she would forget, which is damned unlikely.

She wants to come to my bachelorette party.

If you know me, you know that I am not at all the bachelorette party type. I'm quiet. I read for fun. I don't drink. I can be incredibly shy. And the idea of making a spectacle of myself gives me the heebee jeebees. Which is exactly why I put the Bridal Consigliere in charge of the party. Because she is not retiring or shy by any means, it will probably be a very fun, very silly night--which is really what I want. I'll give her a few guidelines (no suck-a-buck, for one), but otherwise she has free reign to hire strippers, make reservations for 10 at The Baton--whatever she thinks would be most entertaining.

But the idea of throwing my mom into this mix, with the drinking and the...well, the whatever might happen... I just don't know. Including my mother means instilling a level of "mom management" that I'm just not sure I want to deal with on a weekend when I only want to relax and have fun. And I have this vision of her getting bombed on fruity drinks and getting pulled up on stage by drag queens. At which point, God only knows.

On the other hand...

That's what these parties are for. Plus, it would fun to invite the SporkMom and her sister--and I can't invite them and not invite my own mom. And, she really wants to be there. And it might be fun. And if she gets tired, we can put her in a cab and send her back to her hotel.  Right?

Heaven help me, I'm actually giving this serious consideration.