I was just watching a commercial about a new product from the good people at Monistat, purveyors of fine yeast infection treatments. It’s called “Soothing Care” and it is for “chafing” suffered by “women with curves.”
Because the manufacturer was Monistat I was confused for a moment, wondering what “chafing” could mean and how they were going to illustrate it for a family audience. I mean, I’m 33. Surely I would have experienced some kind of “feminine chafing” by now? Right? No? Have I missed out on something about which all other women share a sisterhood? I don’t want to be out of the sisterhood! Is it because I lack curves? How do I get curves so I can share in the drama of chafing with my sisters?! How?! How could I possibly have missed having the all-important and ubiquitous scourge of feminine chafing?! Oy vey ismir!
Confusion followed by Lightbulb as I realized what they were talking about. It’s not specifically for women even though they are selling it to that audience. It is, quite simply, what we called back in the day when I was a fat kid: “Chub Rub.” The redness and pain resulting from my little chubba thighs rubbing together in hot weather. I suffered from Chub Rub every single summer till I finally lost my weight after deciding that I liked boys and wanted them to kiss me rather than see me as a buddy to meet with at the mall and play Space Invaders.
But until then, every summer my little chubby thighs were afflicted with what is now apparently delicately called, “chafing” and for which the treatment was copious amounts of Vaseline petroleum jelly, the effect of which was big greasy marks on my pants and a refusal to wear shorts in even the hottest weather because the crotch would ride up and my thighs would rub themselves raw. Argh. My thighs hurt just reminiscing about it...
I have therefore determined that the good people at Monistat are my heroes. The Florence Nightingales of Fat Kids Everywhere. I tell you, I could have used some Soothing Care back in the day, and now millions of little fat kids will not have to suffer the same discomfort I did throughout almost every year of Ronald Reagan’s two terms.
Thank you, Monistat: Purveyors of Products You Hope to God You Never Need.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Monday, April 11, 2005
"I Baptize You in the Name of...Well, Me!"
I just read this on foxnews.com and could not believe what I was reading. How do you baptize someone without their knowledge or consent--and then consider it binding and theologically legitimate? Isn't the whole essence of baptism one of *conscious choice* to accept a belief system? Baptism without choice is what we call The Crusades or The Inquisition, is it not?
I'm inclined to believe that there is no intentional attempt to create harm, but at the same time, how do you baptize someone of a different religion into your own and not anticipate that it will be a grievous offense? What if Catholics decided to posthumously re-baptize Mormons as Catholics? What if Jews decided that Lutherans should be posthumously "saved" from the error of their ways? Maybe if you're not religious you say, "a pox on all their houses," recognizing that just because someone in Utah says I'm now Mormon don't make it so. But on a basic human level, shouldn't our first impulse as religious people be to "do no harm?"
Just sign me,
Pollyanna
Jews, Mormons to Review 'Dead Baptisms'
Monday, April 11, 2005
SALT LAKE CITY — Jews and Mormons decided Monday to jointly scrutinize a Mormon database that includes the names of thousands of deceased Jews — including Holocaust victims — who were given unwanted, posthumous baptisms.
A committee with members of both religions will study how names get into the massive International Genealogical Index (search) — which has an estimated 4 million entries — what processes are followed, and how greater order can be brought to the unwieldy listing.
The move lets Mormons "see what we can do that doesn't compromise our core beliefs and practices" while still addressing the concerns of Jewish leaders, said D. Todd Christofferson, a member of the Presidency of the Seventy (search), a high-ranking church leadership body. "We're going to do a lot of fact finding, and we will go from there."
"The church did not compromise its principles. The Jewish community didn't compromise its concerns," said David Elcott, director of interreligious affairs for the American Jewish Committee in New York, one of five leaders who met with Mormon officials Sunday and Monday.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (search) believes individuals' ability to choose a religion continues beyond the grave. Through its unique practice of proxy or vicarious baptisms, names are forwarded for baptism, and church members stand in for deceased non-Mormons. The church believes the ritual is required for the dead to reach heaven.
Researchers found the names of Holocaust victims in the church's massive index more than a decade ago. After Jewish leaders protested, the two sides signed an agreement in 1995, and about 380,000 names of Holocaust victims were removed. The agreement also called for no further proxy baptisms of Holocaust victims, celebrities or people who are not relatives of those seeking the baptism.
But Jewish leaders claim Mormons continue to posthumously baptize Jews and Holocaust victims. They said the meetings Sunday and Monday followed a decade of frustration over what they called broken promises.
The 1995 agreement also called for the removal of Jewish names in the index. But Mormon officials maintained Monday the agreement didn't guarantee vicarious baptisms for deceased Jews would never occur.
I'm inclined to believe that there is no intentional attempt to create harm, but at the same time, how do you baptize someone of a different religion into your own and not anticipate that it will be a grievous offense? What if Catholics decided to posthumously re-baptize Mormons as Catholics? What if Jews decided that Lutherans should be posthumously "saved" from the error of their ways? Maybe if you're not religious you say, "a pox on all their houses," recognizing that just because someone in Utah says I'm now Mormon don't make it so. But on a basic human level, shouldn't our first impulse as religious people be to "do no harm?"
Just sign me,
Pollyanna
Jews, Mormons to Review 'Dead Baptisms'
Monday, April 11, 2005
SALT LAKE CITY — Jews and Mormons decided Monday to jointly scrutinize a Mormon database that includes the names of thousands of deceased Jews — including Holocaust victims — who were given unwanted, posthumous baptisms.
A committee with members of both religions will study how names get into the massive International Genealogical Index (search) — which has an estimated 4 million entries — what processes are followed, and how greater order can be brought to the unwieldy listing.
The move lets Mormons "see what we can do that doesn't compromise our core beliefs and practices" while still addressing the concerns of Jewish leaders, said D. Todd Christofferson, a member of the Presidency of the Seventy (search), a high-ranking church leadership body. "We're going to do a lot of fact finding, and we will go from there."
"The church did not compromise its principles. The Jewish community didn't compromise its concerns," said David Elcott, director of interreligious affairs for the American Jewish Committee in New York, one of five leaders who met with Mormon officials Sunday and Monday.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (search) believes individuals' ability to choose a religion continues beyond the grave. Through its unique practice of proxy or vicarious baptisms, names are forwarded for baptism, and church members stand in for deceased non-Mormons. The church believes the ritual is required for the dead to reach heaven.
Researchers found the names of Holocaust victims in the church's massive index more than a decade ago. After Jewish leaders protested, the two sides signed an agreement in 1995, and about 380,000 names of Holocaust victims were removed. The agreement also called for no further proxy baptisms of Holocaust victims, celebrities or people who are not relatives of those seeking the baptism.
But Jewish leaders claim Mormons continue to posthumously baptize Jews and Holocaust victims. They said the meetings Sunday and Monday followed a decade of frustration over what they called broken promises.
The 1995 agreement also called for the removal of Jewish names in the index. But Mormon officials maintained Monday the agreement didn't guarantee vicarious baptisms for deceased Jews would never occur.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Time-Killing Questionnaire
I got this idea from www.sheilaomalley.com, wherein she answers the following questions usually asked of thespians who visit James Lipton on Inside The Actor's Studio. Since Blogger is acting up, I'm posting this fast while it still works, and giving you something to do until I can get my Tom DeLay rant on the site. I also just think the whole concept of James Lipton is hilarious; the gravity with which he interviews someone like Cameron Diaz about her "influences" and her "craft." It is truly a televised demonstration of a celebrity circle-jerk. So--in my brief absence, have your own:
The Questionnaire:
My Favorite Word: Bisous (French for "kisses")
My Least Favorite Word: Nostril
Noise I love: Waves
Noise I hate: Alarm clock at 5am
What turns me on (spiritually, creatively): Singing Frank Sinatra at top volume while driving, a good movie like Amadeus, reading a good book like The Power of One or The Killer Angels, hearing my daughter belly-laugh
What turns me off: Dishonesty, dishonesty masquerading as kindness, dishonesty borne of insecurity; anything and anyone that thinks it best to separate me from the truth, however unpleasant it may be
Profession I would like to attempt: Televangelist
Profession I would hate: DMV clerk
My favorite curse-word: Fargin. You know, from "Johnny Dangerously"? Not the actual F word, but "fargin" as in "fargin bastitches" from that movie.
If heaven exists, what would I like to hear God say when I arrive: "Welcome to calorie-free living, my child. Can I offer you a cocktail, some bacon-wrapped scallops, all the french fries you can eat, and a chocolate donut chaser?"
What are YOUR answers?
The Questionnaire:
My Favorite Word: Bisous (French for "kisses")
My Least Favorite Word: Nostril
Noise I love: Waves
Noise I hate: Alarm clock at 5am
What turns me on (spiritually, creatively): Singing Frank Sinatra at top volume while driving, a good movie like Amadeus, reading a good book like The Power of One or The Killer Angels, hearing my daughter belly-laugh
What turns me off: Dishonesty, dishonesty masquerading as kindness, dishonesty borne of insecurity; anything and anyone that thinks it best to separate me from the truth, however unpleasant it may be
Profession I would like to attempt: Televangelist
Profession I would hate: DMV clerk
My favorite curse-word: Fargin. You know, from "Johnny Dangerously"? Not the actual F word, but "fargin" as in "fargin bastitches" from that movie.
If heaven exists, what would I like to hear God say when I arrive: "Welcome to calorie-free living, my child. Can I offer you a cocktail, some bacon-wrapped scallops, all the french fries you can eat, and a chocolate donut chaser?"
What are YOUR answers?
Saturday, April 09, 2005
For Your Delectation and Delight
Sorry about the total lack of posting. It has not been by choice, but by virtue of blogger being non-functional for a couple of days. GRRRRR!!!!!!
In the meantime, I thought you might be interested to visit the following sites that I look at every day. As always, the opinions therein reflect the views of the author and not necessarily those of SSHaggis.
First: www.dubiousquality.blogspot.com.
Genius at work, is all I can say. Written by the inimitable Bill Harris, this site is my first stop of every day. Mixed in with discussions of gaming are some truly singular, yet universal, stories about his wife and son that will make you laugh out loud.
Second: http://nytimesweddings.blogspot.com/2005/03/baumer.html
My dear lovely girl J from Annapolis hooked me up with this site, and it has been off to the races ever since. The author of this blog deconstructs those smarmy, annoying, self-indulgent wedding announcements in The New York Times to great effect. For those of you who blush easily, the language can be salty; but the content is just my kind of poke in the eye to people who really think it relevant to list their grandparents' occupations in their wedding announcements.
Third: http://www.slate.com/id/2116346/
Dear Prudence rocks. She has the propriety of Miss Manners and the cojones of Dr. Ruth. I LOVE Dear Prudence, and so should you.
Enjoy!
In the meantime, I thought you might be interested to visit the following sites that I look at every day. As always, the opinions therein reflect the views of the author and not necessarily those of SSHaggis.
First: www.dubiousquality.blogspot.com.
Genius at work, is all I can say. Written by the inimitable Bill Harris, this site is my first stop of every day. Mixed in with discussions of gaming are some truly singular, yet universal, stories about his wife and son that will make you laugh out loud.
Second: http://nytimesweddings.blogspot.com/2005/03/baumer.html
My dear lovely girl J from Annapolis hooked me up with this site, and it has been off to the races ever since. The author of this blog deconstructs those smarmy, annoying, self-indulgent wedding announcements in The New York Times to great effect. For those of you who blush easily, the language can be salty; but the content is just my kind of poke in the eye to people who really think it relevant to list their grandparents' occupations in their wedding announcements.
Third: http://www.slate.com/id/2116346/
Dear Prudence rocks. She has the propriety of Miss Manners and the cojones of Dr. Ruth. I LOVE Dear Prudence, and so should you.
Enjoy!
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
This Isn't Your Father's Hematologist
...um, actually it is.
I have a new doctor. A hematologist. My dad goes to him and so recommended him to me. Yesterday was my first appointment with him, so I dropped the bambina off at my mom's and went on my merry and unknowing way to the doctor's office.
What can I say? This is wrong--so wrong--and yet I can't help it. I couldn't have foreseen it, and yet it happened: I have a massive crush on my married new doctor.
Yep. A crush. He is dreamy with a capital D, and I am this close to inventing a critical blood ailment just to see him again before our 3 month check-in.
Imagine my expectations. My DAD goes to him. How good looking could he possibly BE?!! I figured he'd be, like, 70 years old, perhaps using leeches as standard treatment, and definitely definitely not at all even in the parking lot of the arena where there might be preliminary trials in the running for an "E Crush." Dang. How wrong I was.
I was sitting in the room when he walked in, and I was FLOORED because he was a) cute and b) completely not at all what I expected. He looks like a slightly more built Jim Caviezel, pictured here: Jim Caviezel
. Kid you not. Dreamy with a capital D. He walked in, shook my hand, introduced himself to me, and said some very nice things about my dad being a "beloved member of our practice." To which I responded, "blaaaayeahum, hi! Good! Yes! My dad! Us too! A beloved member of our practice too!"
WHAT???!!
I was babbling. I could tell I was babbling. You know when you know you're babbling, you're telling yourself in your head that you are babbling and that you should stop, but you can't figure out where to end your sentence because you're no longer sure what it was you were trying to say and now you don't want to end up looking even more dumb by ending in mid-sentence? Yeah. That was me. I finally managed to stop my mouth and brain racing by saying, "Anyway! It's great to meet you!"
Smooth, E. Real smooth. He's not "meeting" you. He's dealing with you, his patient who is presenting with specific symptoms. I was digging myself a hole in a big way and could not stop my mouth from running to get me out of it. I was just, I suppose, mesmerized by him, maybe simply because I had expected someone who looked more like Fish from Barney Miller or Jack Klugman in Quincy. I did not expect Hottie McHottstein, MD.
Of course, all dreamy things must come to an end, and this one did at the moment he said, "okay, so if you'll just undress to your underwear and put this robe on, and I'll be right back to examine you."
ARGH!! This is so wrong!! I knew I would not be able to either get my clothes off OR get my $10 copay's worth of medical attention if I didn't get over the crush in the next 30 seconds, so I channeled my Inner Sixteen Year Old Boy and immediately began thinking of old men on rollerskates, wicker baskets, the girl from 3rd grade with the chronic runny nose leaking into her mouth, bowls of oatmeal, What Would Jesus Do woven yarn bracelets, and of course: baseball, baseball, baseball.
Worked like a charm. Got through the visit, managed to not bat my eyelashes, overstate my fitness level when asked if I stay active, and to not pretend that I am far more interesting than I seem to be while having my spleen felt for enlargement.
Thank God I managed to talk myself down, especially since it could never work between us. There's the spouse thing, the different lifestyles, the fact that he also feels MY DAD'S spleen for enlargement...which just makes the whole scenario WRONG on so many levels.
And so, for the only time in my life and without reserve, I can honestly say, "Thank you, Yankees."
I have a new doctor. A hematologist. My dad goes to him and so recommended him to me. Yesterday was my first appointment with him, so I dropped the bambina off at my mom's and went on my merry and unknowing way to the doctor's office.
What can I say? This is wrong--so wrong--and yet I can't help it. I couldn't have foreseen it, and yet it happened: I have a massive crush on my married new doctor.
Yep. A crush. He is dreamy with a capital D, and I am this close to inventing a critical blood ailment just to see him again before our 3 month check-in.
Imagine my expectations. My DAD goes to him. How good looking could he possibly BE?!! I figured he'd be, like, 70 years old, perhaps using leeches as standard treatment, and definitely definitely not at all even in the parking lot of the arena where there might be preliminary trials in the running for an "E Crush." Dang. How wrong I was.
I was sitting in the room when he walked in, and I was FLOORED because he was a) cute and b) completely not at all what I expected. He looks like a slightly more built Jim Caviezel, pictured here: Jim Caviezel
. Kid you not. Dreamy with a capital D. He walked in, shook my hand, introduced himself to me, and said some very nice things about my dad being a "beloved member of our practice." To which I responded, "blaaaayeahum, hi! Good! Yes! My dad! Us too! A beloved member of our practice too!"
WHAT???!!
I was babbling. I could tell I was babbling. You know when you know you're babbling, you're telling yourself in your head that you are babbling and that you should stop, but you can't figure out where to end your sentence because you're no longer sure what it was you were trying to say and now you don't want to end up looking even more dumb by ending in mid-sentence? Yeah. That was me. I finally managed to stop my mouth and brain racing by saying, "Anyway! It's great to meet you!"
Smooth, E. Real smooth. He's not "meeting" you. He's dealing with you, his patient who is presenting with specific symptoms. I was digging myself a hole in a big way and could not stop my mouth from running to get me out of it. I was just, I suppose, mesmerized by him, maybe simply because I had expected someone who looked more like Fish from Barney Miller or Jack Klugman in Quincy. I did not expect Hottie McHottstein, MD.
Of course, all dreamy things must come to an end, and this one did at the moment he said, "okay, so if you'll just undress to your underwear and put this robe on, and I'll be right back to examine you."
ARGH!! This is so wrong!! I knew I would not be able to either get my clothes off OR get my $10 copay's worth of medical attention if I didn't get over the crush in the next 30 seconds, so I channeled my Inner Sixteen Year Old Boy and immediately began thinking of old men on rollerskates, wicker baskets, the girl from 3rd grade with the chronic runny nose leaking into her mouth, bowls of oatmeal, What Would Jesus Do woven yarn bracelets, and of course: baseball, baseball, baseball.
Worked like a charm. Got through the visit, managed to not bat my eyelashes, overstate my fitness level when asked if I stay active, and to not pretend that I am far more interesting than I seem to be while having my spleen felt for enlargement.
Thank God I managed to talk myself down, especially since it could never work between us. There's the spouse thing, the different lifestyles, the fact that he also feels MY DAD'S spleen for enlargement...which just makes the whole scenario WRONG on so many levels.
And so, for the only time in my life and without reserve, I can honestly say, "Thank you, Yankees."
Sunday, April 03, 2005
God Supports This Blog
I’m watching The Contender right now (don’t ask; it’s on and I’m working on my laptop and I’m too lazy to change the channel). The showdown fight is between one guy who constantly talks about how he boxes for his kids and another guy who constantly talks about how he boxes for The Lord. I find both men to be incredibly annoying, but I can feel my blood particularly boiling at The Lord’s Chosen Pugilist. As he went on and on about how he was there for The Lord and how The Lord wouldn’t bring him this far to see him lose a boxing match, I kept shouting at the TV, “God is busy! He’s not watching your boxing match! There are starving children and wartorn lands to worry about; God does not give a celestial rat’s a** about your boxing match!” I mean, what kind of unmitigated, breathtaking level of self-involvement does it take to imagine that The Lord Himself is invested in you winning a TV boxing match?! I’m just astonished, which maybe shows my appalling lack of being saved; I don’t know. But how do you go through life thinking that The Lord Himself is intimately interested and involved in ensuring that you win a contest “for his glory”? How do mere humans get to decide what The Lord Himself deems blessed or important? Just by saying so?
Well, in that case, I am hereby stating that The Lord Himself has anointed this blog. Because there’s nothing The Lord values more than a smart-mouthed haggis wrapped in the stars and stripes.
Can I get a witness?!!
Well, in that case, I am hereby stating that The Lord Himself has anointed this blog. Because there’s nothing The Lord values more than a smart-mouthed haggis wrapped in the stars and stripes.
Can I get a witness?!!
Motherhood Lesson #3,986
One of the most interesting things I have had to learn as a new parent is something I never thought would matter to me, but apparently does. That thing is worrying what people think about me, and by extension, my child. As you know, the bambina has only been home a short while and has met lots of new people in that short time. I’ve been trying to balance the need to get her into a rhythm with the need to be sensitive to not completely overwhelming her infant synapses with constant, ongoing new faces and places.
That being said, people want to meet her, and we don’t want to approach every situation with an overprotective “she’ll freak out” attitude. We make sure she is feeling secure and then we assume that she will be just fine, which she mostly is. But, babies being babies, sometimes things don’t go as swimmingly as planned, be it either because of ear infections or sniffles or nap time or just a plain old kiddie meltdown for no reason at all.
What I am learning—and fast—is that I have to let go of (as terrible as this sounds to say) wanting her to perform like a monkey whenever she meets someone. Do you know what I mean? You have this child whom you know to be funny and cute and sparkling and happy and giggly…and then she meets someone and spends the entire time wailing, cranking and just “not being herself.”
I think what I am realizing is that A) it’s not her job to make me look good by being a little Stepford Baby on command, and B) when she is cranky or tired or sick and not feeling up to visitors—that is, just as when she is smiley and cute, she is indeed also “being herself.” When I’m sick I don’t take leave of my personality; I just don’t want to hang out with people and be interactive. Doesn’t make me a cranky person, doesn’t make people think I must have a bad emotional constitution. It makes me normal. So I’m trying to remember that about her. That it’s not her job to validate my mothering skills by being a shiny happy baby 24-7. It’s her job to just be a baby. Even if it means I’m banned from the Perfect Mothers’ Club before I even get some punch and pie at the Open House.
That being said, people want to meet her, and we don’t want to approach every situation with an overprotective “she’ll freak out” attitude. We make sure she is feeling secure and then we assume that she will be just fine, which she mostly is. But, babies being babies, sometimes things don’t go as swimmingly as planned, be it either because of ear infections or sniffles or nap time or just a plain old kiddie meltdown for no reason at all.
What I am learning—and fast—is that I have to let go of (as terrible as this sounds to say) wanting her to perform like a monkey whenever she meets someone. Do you know what I mean? You have this child whom you know to be funny and cute and sparkling and happy and giggly…and then she meets someone and spends the entire time wailing, cranking and just “not being herself.”
I think what I am realizing is that A) it’s not her job to make me look good by being a little Stepford Baby on command, and B) when she is cranky or tired or sick and not feeling up to visitors—that is, just as when she is smiley and cute, she is indeed also “being herself.” When I’m sick I don’t take leave of my personality; I just don’t want to hang out with people and be interactive. Doesn’t make me a cranky person, doesn’t make people think I must have a bad emotional constitution. It makes me normal. So I’m trying to remember that about her. That it’s not her job to validate my mothering skills by being a shiny happy baby 24-7. It’s her job to just be a baby. Even if it means I’m banned from the Perfect Mothers’ Club before I even get some punch and pie at the Open House.
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