Once again, Eamon is marching in the Gay Pride Parade. Faithful readers will recall that this is not his first such experience. I speak, of course, of last year's entry, with the Windy City Rollers, as a robot.
Today, he tells me that he is again set to march. This time, their team theme is "Sailors." What should he wear?, he asks.
I suggest he clad himself in one of those enormous mock-derrieres one sees so often at Halloween parties, and go as a rear admiral.
I am ostracized.
Showing posts with label robot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label robot. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Crazy Crap Item #193: The part where Kristen cites a reliable source
As many know, the last few years can be thought of as "Adventures in Baby Delaying" for Eamon and myself. And me, well, I'm not getting any younger.
So it was that Eamon and went in for a battery of tests to determine what's what and get an expert to help us nudge things along. The news was largely good; all our nibbles and bits seem to be in good working order. Upon closer examination, however, it was determined that I am harboring some not very felicitous uterine fibroids. Not to go into grisly detail, it seems these little benign nub-ules are pushing into my baby sleigh, and making things just a bit too crowded for all concerned (or at least, that is the suspicion). So yank 'em out, the experts say!
And, it seems, the experts need a helping hand to make things happen. A robot to be precise. Seems that wee, tiny robots are all the rage in fibroid-removal circles, and me, I'm never one to miss out on a fad. So robots it is.
I conveyed as much to my good friend, Ms. Kristen Freilich. Good friend that she is, Kristen did some scrupulous research, and sent me this encouraging email of support:
Subject: Good News!
Hi kay. after i found this in USA Today I started to feel better about your surgery. i think you are going to be just fine!
And below her message, she included the following:
Which led to this exchange:
So it was that Eamon and went in for a battery of tests to determine what's what and get an expert to help us nudge things along. The news was largely good; all our nibbles and bits seem to be in good working order. Upon closer examination, however, it was determined that I am harboring some not very felicitous uterine fibroids. Not to go into grisly detail, it seems these little benign nub-ules are pushing into my baby sleigh, and making things just a bit too crowded for all concerned (or at least, that is the suspicion). So yank 'em out, the experts say!
And, it seems, the experts need a helping hand to make things happen. A robot to be precise. Seems that wee, tiny robots are all the rage in fibroid-removal circles, and me, I'm never one to miss out on a fad. So robots it is.
I conveyed as much to my good friend, Ms. Kristen Freilich. Good friend that she is, Kristen did some scrupulous research, and sent me this encouraging email of support:
Subject: Good News!
Hi kay. after i found this in USA Today I started to feel better about your surgery. i think you are going to be just fine!
And below her message, she included the following:
Which led to this exchange:
kaydaly88: USA today?
krispe22: i made that part up
kaydaly88: yeah.
krispe22: but otherwise i was afraid you woudln't take it seriously
That's what friends are for.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Crazy Crap Item #118: The part where I once again demonstrate the strength of my marriage
I've noted before the unusual strength of my marriage, in particular when my husband told me a joined an online dating service. Here it is, not two weeks later, and my husband informs me he's marching in Chicago's Gay Pride Parade.
Again, some wives may feel such a revelation would give them pause. But me, I'm unflappable.
Roller Derby, you see. The ladies are marching. The theme is outer space. He is to be ... a robot.
As many know, Eamon is not one to do things half-way. So, of course, there was the special trip to Home Depot for supplies. Hours of planning. Hours more of construction. Muttered curses. Personal realizations that one tends to bite off more than one can chew.
But when the Derby calls for a robot, a robot it shall have. Check out the fantastic video of the derby robot, in action. Or this photo.
Afterwards, I asked Eamon how it was, and he told me it was hours of being humped by countless men, all unwitting (as his robot body impeded any sensation).
As a side note, after Eamon had completed the helmet, I took some small friends into the house to see the work in progress. I modeled the head, and allowed young Gavin to strut his stuff.
Again, some wives may feel such a revelation would give them pause. But me, I'm unflappable.
Roller Derby, you see. The ladies are marching. The theme is outer space. He is to be ... a robot.
As many know, Eamon is not one to do things half-way. So, of course, there was the special trip to Home Depot for supplies. Hours of planning. Hours more of construction. Muttered curses. Personal realizations that one tends to bite off more than one can chew.
But when the Derby calls for a robot, a robot it shall have. Check out the fantastic video of the derby robot, in action. Or this photo.
Afterwards, I asked Eamon how it was, and he told me it was hours of being humped by countless men, all unwitting (as his robot body impeded any sensation).
As a side note, after Eamon had completed the helmet, I took some small friends into the house to see the work in progress. I modeled the head, and allowed young Gavin to strut his stuff.
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