Yes, I have a spleen

Last night was productive, pals. We finally submitted our Peace Corps app - which really means we're just beginning a much longer application process. The best part was our preliminary health questionnaire, which asked us things like if we've ever had a goiter or gout. Or if we've ever had our retinas disconnected. Or if we have cysts on our rectums. Hilarious.

Stupid Swedes

Stupid Michael Moore. Stupid universal health care. Geeze. I watched Sicko last night - although a little over the top at times (taking 9/11 rescue workers to Guantanamo Bay for treatment), the film made a bunch of really good points that I already know - points I know well because I feel like I'm drowning in them sometimes.

We spend so much time thinking about old medical debt, new (and necessary) medical debt, potential Peace Corps medical packet costs, and MM just reaffirmed everything I normally feel - let's move to Europe. now.

Seriously - how can we get good jobs in the Motherland and move there? B & I throw this around a lot - move to Deutschland or Scandinavia or somewhere equally glorious and birth some babies there so they're dual citizens and aren't screwed like we are lots of the time. A full year of maternity leave - I'll take that. Paternity leave - even better. Free university ed - count me in. Crusty Deutsche Brot und Breze - drool. I'm really looking into this post-PC.

Maybe I should join AARP

This week's been ridiculous - three nights in a row of oldster meetings. I'm taking tomorrow off to sleep and see my long lost husband. I don't talk about him very much anymore, and sometimes people even think it's weird when I use the phrase "we" because I'm always by myself. So I'm filling my time with all this other stuff, which is good but overwhelming when it's all at once. Tonight's our first Session meeting @ the Presb - it's going to involve lots of boring documents and such.

This weekend should mix it up though- Martin Luther King Jr Day bitches! We're doing the GW Walk and there's a Martini Luther King party Sunday w/the promise of a sleepover and tasty breakfast. What a needed break.

Improvements...

It's all about quality control: you speak, I listen.
I've been told that commenting isn't so easy on this blog, since I've been operating in default settings. I made the changes and comments should now be open to everyone, even anonymous commenters - so have at it.

Jesus Face

My sister and I used to play an amusing game called "hide the Jesus." When we started going to church in our teens, my grandma took this as a sign. So one memorable Christmas I opened gift after gift with a common Jesus theme: stone knickknacks of praying hands, inspirational books of Bible quote, and most notably, giant posters of Jesus' face. You know the one - very caucasian, looking towards the heavens with a warm halo and fuzzy glow all around. It was enormous - probably 2 1/2 by 3 feet, and there were two of them under the tree, one for my sister and one for me. You can imagine our excitement.

The predicament became clear, though, when we returned home from grandma's. You definitely don't want to keep the thing (hang it on your bedroom wall so the J-man can watch you day and night?), but something just doesn't feel right about throwing it away. Can you see it - Jesus' eyes peering up at you, pleadingly, as you close the lid on the can or as you tighten the Hefty drawstring?

Our solution was to take the posters, and when the other sibling wasn't around, hide the Jesus in a startling place - you're getting in the shower first thing in the morning, there he is. you go to pull back the comforter and crawl into your cozy bed, BAM! Jesus face. And so it went: behind the coat in your closet, in the trunk of your car, in the tv cabinet.

When I left for college, I'm not quite sure what became of the Jesus faces, but I know that my mom is a ruthless purger and pitcher. Waste Management loves her, I'm sure. So the fun had come to an end, until yesterday.

While visiting B's mom to celebrate her birthday, she suddenly remembered that she had an exciting gift to give us. "Oh, wait till you see what 'boyfriend' made for you!" as she pulled out a small frame containing the familiar print. "Don't you remember when you two gave 'boyfriend' one of these for Christmas a few years ago?"

Obviously this was a hideous joke.

We soon realized that she truly believed we had gifted one of these to her boyfriend - a very large version with a white frame, evidently. (Note that our teen-hood Jesuses were unframed and so were not the one in question).

We're chalking it up to that slight confusion that sometimes settles on family members as they age - like when your grandma calls you "Heather, Emily, Ben, Angela" before settling on "Katie" and your name is Jennifer. In the same way, the MIL and co. really think we gave them the J-face and they just wanted to return the "thoughtful gesture."

And so I foresee that the game will be continuing. Just this morning when I arrived at work, I went to lock up the car and saw the Face peering at me from the floor of the backseat. Guiltily, I unlocked the door to turn it over, so he wouldn't be staring at people as they walked by in the parking lot. Even so, as I break now to go to lunch, I'll be driving to Subway with my buddy in the back, plotting on the way all the places he will go.