this american life.

8 PM, Sunday: I am sitting on the floor in a skirt and tank top, with my upper body stuffed into the cabinet under the sink. I am using an allen wrench and the handle of a toilet plunger in an attempt to unstick the flywheel of my garbage disposal. Upstairs, my husband is catering…

still pregnant – an update.

I like to make pathetic attempts at creating some semblance of order on my blog. I’ve done Half-Nekkid Thursday, Five on Friday, and I once had a photo caption contest. But my pregnancy makes me a feature in an anthropological freak show and gives me something to write about. It also gives me a free pass to eat…

it’s romantic, in a way.

I’ve written before about the ridiculous conversations Scott & I have in bed. They’re usually bizarre, perverse, and probably to anyone but us, disgusting. Last night’s was a good one. It’s been determined that, should either of us ever lose a bet to the other, the winner gets to administer an enema of any choice…