The other day I was at Trader Joe's and I saw a transvestite. Am I using the right terminology here? I mean a man dressed like a woman, makeup and all. His pink flipflops really completed the whole look. Remember when we used to call flipflops thongs? And isn't it funny why that's totally not appropriate anymore?
I love living in a big city though. Actually we are in the suburbs, but we have easy access to all sorts of things that would be rarer in smaller towns. Target is never more than a mile away. Used bookstores. 24-hour drugstores. Nice parks roughly every 3 blocks. Kids' clothing consignment sales.
Great doctors and specialists. Tons of therapy options. And other people like us. When you have a somewhat rare disorder in your family, it's easy to feel isolated and alone. None of our neighbors have Fragile X. No coworkers or classmates or old college buddies can relate to this. But there are just a few Fragile X families in the Twin Cities area, and I'm so thankful to have gotten to know them.
Yesterday my friend Bobbie and I did our annual take-a-day-off-and-go-shopping-and-eat extravaganza. We started at Gerten's where they have amazing Christmas stuff; not just the usual lights, tinsel, and ball ornaments you find at your local grocery, department, or drug store. They have special things. Lights that look like little bunches of berries. Ornaments in the shape of cameras (perfect for me) or a plate of sushi (perfect for Bobbie). Pine greenery to make your house look and smell all Christmas-y.
Which reminds me, I'm really into "Merry Christmas." Not "Happy Holidays." I don't want to be generic. Am I wrong in thinking Christmas should smack of Jesus? I love Santa and decorated trees and presents and wreaths and all the symbols, really, but I don't want to dumb it down so much that it's just a happy, be-nice-to-your-neighbors, smile-at-strangers, give-to-charities kind of time. It should be a specific time to celebrate that Jesus was born.
Okay, stepping down from the pulpit now.....
We had a long Mexican lunch where we talked about all of our kids a little (six of them between the two of us), and pondered a few other important questions. Like, is it "butt naked" or "buck naked?" There are only so many people in this world you can ask a question like that, and I'm blessed to be good friends with one of them.
She did not have an answer for me, though.
We caroused the mall the rest of the afternoon, and when we felt we could drop, we stopped and ate again, this time at the Cheesecake Factory, which might hold a close second now to our top favorite place to nibble and chat, the Mystic Lake Casino Buffet.
Today is my birthday by the way, and the boys wanted to make sure I didn't miss a minute of it. They got up at 4. AM. This morning. By now I feel like it should be late afternoon and it's barely past lunchtime. This is why my internal clock is such mess. This is why I have to drink caffeine to stay conscious during the day, but quit drinking it by mid afternoon so I can pass out at night.
Oh, no news on the sippy cup struggle. This morning Zack demanded a bottle at 4 AM and as it turns out, I have very little fight in me at that hour, so he got what he wanted. He wanted another one and I resisted until 6, when I gave in yet again. I'm so tired of this war.
I'm going to take my scatterbrained self outside to pick up the toys in the backyard. Snow is in the forecast.
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