The important thing is the girls. They're all I care about. I make it a point to keep my mind uncluttered, for the benefit of the buns. The other stuff I just listen to the advice of my midwife on. Dr. Poo really knows her stuff. She's shown me 4 really different looking shoehorns. All I have to do is choose. I like the one on the left. She wants me to start relaxation exercises and stretching exercises tomorrow. Several guys in the neighborhood have approached me to share their own birthing experiences with me. That's helping so much with my confidence. When I tell them what their stretch marks mean to me, in a Rorschach sense, they look relieved, and as we part, they give me a little friendly spinal tap as they walk away. Warms my heart. I feel more and more ready. Please don't make me afraid, that's all I ask.

I'm so glad you've found a support group. Will you stay home with them after they're born, or will you return to work right away?

autumn, you keep asking me such tough practical questions thank gawd, Dr Poo called she suggested that i become unemployed when that time arrives that was lucky and she said it without really having to think...that was nice

You sound a little fragile, Mum. Nipples hurting? Muscles going jello in the pelvis area? Feeling a little hormonal? Eating tar and charcoal yet? Well, don't worry that'll pass . . . in eight months time, by which time it'll also be twenty times worse; but only after a couple of hours of intense and hellish . . . oh no, don't wish to frighten you. Oh, and I was wondering: who is the Dad, Cowgirl?

Tom Robbins took me to this shaman who lives on Garden Street, down by the river, just north of it, in Austin. I was in the shaman's sweat lodge, in her backyard. And I was alone in the lodge. There was this nervous laughter that gurgled up in my belly. It went to my chest, then back to my belly. It was extremely delicate and refined, then became volatile, then back to so sublime. Suddenly I found myself bent over and face-to-face with my opposite. My opposite was intimate and warm, but it was translating each of the looks in my eyes into systematically rearranged intestinal mutations. And of course the vacuum, left by the passing away of the mutations, this vacuum popped and burst into portions of humanness in embryo form. The last thing my opposite said to me before vanishing, was: "the looks in your eyes were funny-looking but I liked them, and I like you" When i came outa the sweat lodge, I was gonna ask the shaman what she thought was goin' on back in there, but she said, "I dunno, i wasn't there..." before i could ask her. Then I said, "Zounds!!!" and started leaning and falling. Tom caught me, saying, "We better go...thank you for your help...nice tricks." Blue-grey eyes see gray sky the sky sees everything we completely don't care about

Don't mean to be cruel, but that sounds more like you had your stomache pumped . . . well, perhaps that's just Tom's way of doing it. She can be such a tough guy sometimes. I know, because I slept with him too. But luckily I was on the pill at the time, so I didn't get pregnant. But if I did I would have called the baby Jim, and gotten Mum to knit her some pretty pink cardigans to wear with her leather loin cloths. I wonder if she would have preferred the bottle or the breast . . . ha-ha, just kidding!!

OK, we should just change the name of this topic to "INvent at will"! :-)

We're pathetic, aren't we?? I can't remember talking so much nonsense with anyone but my sister before I came to the Spring - once or twice a week. Now it's all I ever do! Shows you - the human is inherently a decadent being! We're not exactly helping each other to grow more sensible either. ha-ha!

your sister keeps tellin' me to say this stuff. i don't wanna hurt her feelins'. i really care for her and all. she means alot to me. i miss her so. i wish she hadn't left me. i'll probably never get over her. i so much loved the way she held the vacuum cleaner handle in one hand and the extension cord in the other. this is really difficult for me to tell you all this. as you can imagine. but i'm so glad i have you all here for the support you offer me. i couldn't get through any of this without you. i most certainly do appreciate the wigs you sent me and the booze. i'll be back on my feet in no time. who was it? well ONE of you told me: "it's so easy to get in venting, but so hard to get out" i wonder if i'll ever get outa here.... somebody punch me out, and drag me to high ground, away away away from da spring.... hey, jez 9 days and we'll be outa spring anyway---first day of summer

So YOU'RE that guy she had that little fling with?!?! Should have known. She said he was pretty weird, and spoke with a strange Taxylvannian accent. She wanted to clean the hotel room with a vacuum cleaner after you did it (said you came all over the place like a shower tap), but then you insisted you could do it yourself. So you turned into a big, slimy leech, and SUCKED it all up! That kind of turned her on, so she turned into Godzilla, but you got scared the minute you could see her big teeths, and galloped away on your sheepdog. Yeah, we had a good laugh about that. She misses you, and still keeps your chest hair in a locket around her neck. When her husband asks who it belongs to, she says to her pet monkey. So I don't know what that's supposed to mean. But I'm glad you two didn't get further than that, because having you for a brother out-law would have been a bad influence on me. And what if I came to visit, and you got confused between who's who? Could be dangerous, because one of our favourite games as kids were to crack nuts and other hard objects between our teeth (and I'm serious! She once managed to bite through a nail!! ha-ha!), so it could have turned out nasty and you'd bleed your little pickle heart out! So don't be sad - just take my advice: go for MORE normal than youself next time, not LESS.

perhaps they are not buns jim, but potato muffins. that may explain why they are so jumpy... potato muffins need not be in the oven so long as buns.

ha-ha!!

VENTING ON BOXES! ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! ACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK! BLEEECCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! OUT OUT DAMN CARDBOARD! dsjakfjioewfjidslgjvwaiegfvoiesadjiogreawjgvlewaijgfewojfviwvfioerjlwkejf ipjdskfjewajfijewijfewifjkldsjcvipewfwedlk;fsafkirop[ewfkodsktpogfewkofkewofkoewkfoewkfoewkgolkwaregowakermlogkwrogjkowarlgkmowrejgoewrjgowrjkgopewrkjgpoerjkgorjempogjkerpogkroeg,kesrpokbsgkipowear [ftpewl,gfpvkergpokergolker,gkdrl[pvgberkpgtlre[glve[lg[r]e ][waert;[]weptlwkemdfklgjlerkjatoprekigtpaweotperkmhgoerpjkoghlkr,ehgporke[ogkero Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! MUCH better! (BTW, closing is today. Move is Friday.)

Good luck. Soon you'll wash those boxes right outta yer hair!

Dat's right, girlfriend! Keep us posted...

By the way, are YOU moving, Autumn?

boxes dwindling rapidly... clutter reproducing exponentially!

kibble reproduces kibble...

wow did you guys vent...... i want to vent. my plants are dead or dying. my beloved orchids are sulking. the flowers outside are pitiful, all the boxed ones dead. and then my boss gets upset cuz i wanna take some of my hard earned leave to be with my babies. gimme a break. the beach was no vacation and we slaved everyday til late with no time off. think i deserve some time with my friends and family. spent four days, count 'em, four days on a plane, to get back here and am very tired and in disbelief that i'm here, so don't gimme no crap about needing a break. as if she would ever be sent to the desert. sorry, know it sounds childish, but this IS my topic *grin*

Doesn't sound childish, and it's your good right. Four days on the plane? Which continent, I mean. And all that for business?? And all this time I thought it was a family holiday. Now I really do feel sorry for you - I'm sorry you're having such a rotten week. Wer tells me you also have two girls, Wolf - you, Autumn and me, it seems! And it's a good thing - this world needs more women for the 21st century. How old are yours?

(editorial comment...seems I screwed up on the reporting... seems it is one boy and one girl...sure hope I don't have to trade Zoe out to "correct" the situation...)

*laugh* my son is 9 and daughter is 5. And yes, it was business. 40 days worth in the desert, then 4 getting home. Spain, Germany, Newfoundland, Arizona, then the bayou.

Ugh, you poor thing! Forty days! I'd shiver up from lack of sex and little sticky finger marks on my sunglasses! Go on holiday, Wolf!

you betcha!

You swift Wolf, you!

*giggle*