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Language Log

Sunday, Aug. 26, 2012 - 7:13 a.m.

Met with the doula again yesterday, discussing comfort measures, etc. She described me as "very Zen". I'm not sure whether that's true, or whether I'm just in denial. Part of me refuses to believe I will actually have to do this. I direct that part of me to inspect my abdomen for clues that I will, indeed, have to, but it refuses to look. "LA LA LA" it says, hands over ears and eyes.

I dunno, things you have to do, you just do them and don't worry about it. I do try to procrastinate first, usually, but in the end, it is what it is. It helps knowing that I am extremely unlikely to actually die in the process. Hooray for modern medicine.

Actually, upon further reflection, it's really only stuff that I have to passively endure that I have such a good attitude about. Anything that involves initiative on my part, I fight like the dickens.

Went to Target and made a rare impulse purchase of one of those new mini "soft serve" ice cream makers. ("Soft serve" because they instruct you to eat it immediately; as far as I can tell, the only real difference between it and a regular ice cream maker is size). We already have a regular ice cream maker, but I'm all the time making too much ice cream and then it sits in our freezer forever, too hard and uneaten. Perhaps this will help that. And then will enable me to try more unusual flavors without fear of wasting time and ingredients on weird varieties of ice cream that no one actually wants to eat more than once. (cashew coconut curry ice cream, I'm looking at you).

Am reading the Asshole book. Pretty good, although I had some misunderstandings about his argument. Indeed, it's not that only other people can be assholes, but by so labeling people assholes (or assigning them to that category whether we speak the word or not), we license ourselves to act like assholes to them in return. Case in point: what passes as political "dialogue" for the last decade or so.

Still haven't told my mom the new person's name. The in-laws are continuing to behave themselves; my mother will not, and emailing her is not an option. *sigh*. I may as well do it, she'll find out eventually anyway.

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