–I am so tired I about want to cry from it. Now I know how babies feel.
–I went shoe shopping for silver shoes for the Super Genius’s wedding. I realized, I haven’t been in high heels in years. I have a low chunky heel I wear to work, but no high heels. And most of the shoes were just sandals–a strap across the top and a precarious slice of wood from your heel to the floor and I couldn’t remember how to balance myself in them.
–My knee today is all fucked up. I blame trying on high heels yesterday.
–It’s funny. I’m having such a nice day that the sore knee seems funny, like a little wink and nod between me and my body, an in-joke with myself about why I’m feminist.
–I am still in the middle of Riddley Walker, but reading it makes my mouth water with wanting to read it out loud.
–It’s weird to go to the mall and see all these young, young people with two and three kids. On the one hand, I feel like I’m missing out and on the other hand, they are.
–Today, also, I saw this thing that looked like a welder’s mask, but it appeared to be plastic. I tried it on and it was indeed dark as fuck in there, but it just didn’t seem right. Wouldn’t that plastic be no protection? Wouldn’t it melt right off you?
–Here, I will tell you something funny before I go to bed. We were shoe shopping and he says, “I just don’t know if I want to go up to a size eleven.” and I say, “You must be the only man in America who doesn’t want to seem to have big feet.”
Tiny Cat Pants 
Welder’s masks are worn for the protection from sparks and from the intense light of the welding arc. There isn’t a massive blast of heat other than where the torch is directly aimed.
Yes, but a spark is hot. That can’t hit the plastic and melt it?
Don’t make your mom have to come back here and tell you again to treat me nice.
Hee.
By the way, I love your mom.
It isn’t infant pajamas. One spark isn’t going to ignite the whole thing.
Yep, this seems random alright. Where are the girls and cars?
Oh the sass in this thread.
Taking down the sass factor a bit, B, everything happens in good time. I had Amanda when I was 33, and although some days she wears the crap out of me, I wouldn’t trade being a bit older for anything in the world. I think (for me) having more life experience under my belt had helped tremendously with the recent challenges she has had. I think it will be the same for you, and you will be a great mom!
Back to the sass, and I believe Mack will agree with me on this, I’m glad to know that Sarcastro has more knowledge in the welding department than the finer aspects of desk assembly.
I was almost 35 when I had my kid. I had plenty of “growing up and hanging out” time and finally felt I had the necessary emotional, intellectual, and financial resources to do a good job. I remember anxiety right around 30 about whether I was screwing the pooch on motherhood by jerking around, but everything has turned out better than fine.
The heels only have to be on for the photos and the ceremony — Super G might do you a favor and have the attendants process together so that you have someone to hang on to down the aisle. Bring your flats for dancing, though.
The welder’s mask thing you saw might have been a solar visor. Granted, I don’t know what you were looking at, but that’s the first thing that springs to mind. They’re a huge craze for Asian/Asian-American women (and people in China in general, it seems). It goes along with the skin bleaching ‘ligher-is-better’ thing.
Not everyone wears them for explicitly lookist reasons, of course; many people wear them for simple protection from the sun. It seems like a lot of work, though… and quite the hassle.
Skipping back to the shoes… I know the feeling. Much as I love high, strappy heels, a gait issue means that I wear through heels in a day or two. (That is, I walk funny, so after a day or two the soft part of the heel has worn down to a 45° angle, which throws the rest of my skeletal system so far out of alignment people could use me to predict horoscopes) When that happens, my knees (and hips, and ankles, and the balls of my feet….) complain for at least a day afterward… sometimes a week.
Of course, you are far more sensible than I, it seems… I wear them anyway, and just get my shoes re-heeled often and swap them out as frequently as I can get away with.
Nope, it was definitely a welder’s mask. I just didn’t know that they were plastic. I assumed they were metal or asbestos or something.
Ginger, it’s a poor craftsmen who blames his tools. Or in Mack’s case, tool.
Or it’s the poor tool who blames his craftsman.
I forget.
*Snork!* Well, there went my Diet Coke all over my keyboard.
Hello. And Bye.
dude you know what I’m talking about! soy desole