Sportin' an IUD at the County Fair

Thursday is a big day for two reasons:  

1.)  It's the first day of the Hamilton County 4-H fair - For most people that have survived this world beyond middle school, this is not a significant event.  But for Alan and me, this is a true happening.  We've made a little tradition of going to the local county fair and spending LOTs of time in the small animals barn.  Why would I do this, you might be asking yourself.  Well, the small animals barn is where they keep the goats....the cutest and littlest ones, anyway.  Later in the evening, after sufficient attention has been lavished upon all lap-sized goats, we will make our way over to the dairy goat barn to see the walk-astride sized ones.  I should probably confess that lap and walk-astride sizing of goats is not official nomenclature and one may risk sounding as foolish as I when using/cooing/shouting these terms in public (barns).  

I think my little tradition warrants some photos of past goat celebrations:

So, what is that hangy thing on his neck, anyway?

Goat on Goat Action

Intimate moment with this little Jessy.

This is a Kentucky Goat.  Viva la KY State Fair!

Do you see the pure joy on my face????

2.)  I am getting an IUD implanted.  I will not be having children for 5 years with 99.98% assurance.  Holy crap - I'll be 34 before I can get pregnant!  That is such a relief, and yet it seems so odd to me that I feel that way.  They say implantation of the device can be a little more difficult for women who have not had children before...just because my lady parts haven't ever stretched out or had any live-in buddies.  There is a 1:1000 chance I could experience perforation (i.e. a bloody, painful mess), but I'm feeling pretty sure that I will be just fine.  

How about a pic of an IUD?

Every First Blog + Nicotine

I'm pretty sure that every first blog is supposed to include a comment about how odd of a predicament it is to volunteer to put pieces of one's self on the web for all to see. exposed. vulnerable.

Yeah, that's true - blah-zay-skip - instead I shall rise above such trite observations and use my first blogging experience for far more base and lecherous topics.

First up - addiction. So, being addicted to nicotine is a tough bag. I quit smoking some time ago and was a super bitch for about 2 months. I must admit, I did feel license to take it out on Alan - for better OR worse, right? Then, it just let up one day. I had no desire to smoke and didn't feel tempted when those around me chose to partake.

In much the same fashion, the desire to smoke just reappeared a couple of weeks ago. It may as well have been a Tuesday, loathsome Tuesdays, and I was just sitting at my desk or picking out a crappy bag of chips at the vending machine and - WHALOOMP! I wanted a cigarette. It was not just the passing fancy you might experience while drinking coffee or a particularly tasty beer (recommendation - Bell's Lager of the Lakes). Nay, this was full on lust for cancerous joy.

I wanted to look like this......



Well, maybe I didn't want the fake Oakleys. Or maybe I did??!!? It's truly a total package.

I digress - ever since then, I've been struggling with this addiction again. What's weird is that all the reasons why I don't want to smoke are purely superficial. I do not want wrinkles a la my mother. I don't want to be stigmatized and shunned in public. And I don't want to smell like burnt tobacco. So what is missing here....quitting for right reasons, that's what's missing! The saddest truth is - I have little regard for my own personal health. If I gave two squirts about my health, I'd exercise regularly.

Am I denying my true self by not smoking? Is a good decision made for the wrong reasons still a good decision? Should I just say, "Eff it, man," and pay the increased insurance premiums? Does smoking make me happy? Where does this leave me? Forlorn - that's where it leaves me. Oh, and jonesin' for a ciggy.

Next up - crudeness. I love crudeness. I love brashness. I love crassness (i don't think that one is really word). It's my bread and butter...my go to gimmick. I was raised on it, I'm good at it, and I often appreciate it in conversation with others. This doesn't work out for me - being a girl and all. Somehow, the older and cruder I get, the more I just remind myself of my Mom.

Finally - gambling. Can someone teach me how to gamble? I know how to play poker...all the rules about what beats what, etc. But I'm baffled by the betting process. All the checking and then betting and big and small stuff. Eh - nevermind. I've already lost interest.

Photo non grata......


All I have in summation is this - what if I've written all this only to find out that all first blogs are actually supposed completely skip over the odd predicament of volunteering yourself to a strange world. What if first blogs, as a rule, don't ever actually admit that it is an awkward but compelling thing to do....and that maybe someone else that you've never met will read your blog and give pause to think about you...and your life.

Whateves.