the something neuron
Before the Missus and I got Cat #1 and Cat #2, I really didn’t get cat jokes. That is, as a kid I loved reading Garfield, and I always chuckled when Cartman yelled, “No, kitty, it’s my pot pie! Bad kitty!” on South Park. But I didn’t understand the personalities of cats, all of their peculiarities, that added an extra level of knowing humor to some jokes. Now, though, when I watch a Meow Mix commercial, I nod my head instead of rolling my eyes. I get it now.
pound for pound
I am out of shape. Not in any health-endangering way, I don’t think. But just shy of the “keep your shirt on around poolside” out of shape.
This is put into sharp relief by my parents’ relative fitness. They’re reasonably close to being model specimens. Dad could have better eyesight and flexibility; Mom could have more strength. Really, though, they’re outstanding.
Physically, I identify most with my late Grandfather. He was a hefty guy. I was reassured recently when my Mom reminded me that, in addition to passing away from cancer, it was high blood pressure that dogged him all his life–no matter what weight he was. That doesn’t get me off the hook medically, but at the very least it keeps me from associating fat with mortality.
Maybe I should, though, especially with Something coming. (more…)
cat’s got my brain
I think I finally understand Schrodinger’s cat. In a non-quantum physics sort of way.
We keep wanting to talk about the baby, to plan for the baby, to rearrange our finances for the baby, and so forth.
But there isn’t a baby. There’s something else right now — or, at least, the promise of something else. The growth of something else. A blastocyst. Then an embryo. A fetus. And then…a baby?
The possibility of what it isn’t, though, is the haunting part. I mean, I think we can rule out a hysterical pregnancy. Missus keeps fretting about an ectopic pregnancy, which is scary but also unlikely. Miscarriage is another scary word. So is premature. And so forth.
We are somewhere new, though, because of something new. Some hormones, some symptoms, pee on a stick, otherwise-unexplained nausea. All in orbit around an unnamed thing — or, rather, a thing we can’t name yet. Or can’t bear to name yet. Or can’t bear yet to name and lose…or never have had.
It twists the mind, just like Schrodinger’s cat, though a lot, lot larger than a quark. And getting larger by the day. (Hopefully.)
