tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126032.post1603991056602819378..comments2023-04-05T01:35:25.303-07:00Comments on Fetal Positions III: tell me when it's overKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15213518393810493720noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126032.post-90658711660828723762007-07-15T20:16:00.000-07:002007-07-15T20:16:00.000-07:00Kitty,Ok, I won't tell you what happened, but it w...Kitty,<BR/><BR/>Ok, I won't tell you what happened, but it was a happy ending...as far as I can tell.<BR/><BR/>I haven't seen "Ray", and it's probably a good thing since Eve and Isaac were born around the same time of the year, both being Pisces.<BR/><BR/>In fact, I can count on one hand the number of movies we've seen since our daughter was born four years ago. Life really does change after kids!<BR/><BR/>-MichelleAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126032.post-5465963380948325382007-07-13T08:47:00.000-07:002007-07-13T08:47:00.000-07:00Michelle,Tis the season. My friend's cat has eated...Michelle,<BR/><BR/>Tis the season. My friend's cat has eated two robin's eggs and two hummingbirds. I think everyone should have winter babies so that the hormones aren't raging just when the animal kingdom is also reproducing vulnerable young. If your baby is born in the winter (or, in a wild rain storm as mine was) you only have to avoid all those movies in which harm comes to youngins. (I still haven't made it through "Ray.")Kittyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15213518393810493720noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126032.post-71318830634484683042007-07-12T22:13:00.000-07:002007-07-12T22:13:00.000-07:00David, I had a short story writer tell me just rec...David, I had a short story writer tell me just recently that she didn't have the patience to be bored - i.e.. write novels. I thought that was brilliant. She was an able defender of her genre. I suppose I should come up with some like dig for the poety people.<BR/>(though I am still planning on firing up the grill for your comment on my other post...)<BR/><BR/>Michelle, <BR/>don't tell me what happened.<BR/>;-(Kittyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15213518393810493720noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126032.post-47116873090238990442007-07-12T10:06:00.000-07:002007-07-12T10:06:00.000-07:00"Compassion without caving in,holding the other's ..."Compassion without caving in,holding the other's story gently as if it were your own while remembering it's not." That's what we need more of. JudeAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126032.post-71779689754501482432007-07-12T09:27:00.000-07:002007-07-12T09:27:00.000-07:00correction, "really *not* wanting to see the miser...correction, "really *not* wanting to see the misery"<BR/><BR/>Oh boy!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126032.post-73004584876908034052007-07-12T09:24:00.000-07:002007-07-12T09:24:00.000-07:00How Awful! And what an unfortunate coincidence. ...How Awful! And what an unfortunate coincidence. I just finished reading your blog- yes because I enjoy it- but also because I am avoiding the situation at hand. My beloved cat-the one born on international women's day, the mate to my soul- just attacked a baby bird. I didn't see it. I had just strapped my daughter in her carseat because her father offered to take her to lunch to give me a break while our newborn is napping. I was still deciding whether I should be enjoying the extra attention my daughter has been giving me, or whether I should be feeling sad about my daughter's need to be clingy since her brother was born three weeks ago...when Bob comes around the corner from the back yard announcing, "We have a problem." <BR/><BR/>Oh boy! Then he explains how Stepper (beloved cat) has attacked a baby bird and how its parents are perched on the neighbor's roof screaming at him. "Is it dead?" I ask. "No" he replies. "Is it hurt?" "I think it's back leg is injured, but I don't know what to do about it", he says as I see him scoot the remains of my daughter's peanut butter and fluff sandwich in what I can only assume is the direction of the unfortunate baby bird, "because you can't touch them, right?"<BR/><BR/>Again...Oh boy!<BR/><BR/>So I corral the cat inside, and Bob and Eve take off for lunch. I have been spending the last half hour torn between the feeling like I should look, and just *really* now wanting to see the misery. What the hell am I supposed to do? I can't just leave the baby bird there. My daughter's swing set and sand box are out there. I guess I'll go look and see (hope hope hope) it flew away or its parents came to rescue it. <BR/><BR/>Like you said, "tell me when it's over"<BR/><BR/>-MichelleAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126032.post-12488250335817231922007-07-12T06:43:00.000-07:002007-07-12T06:43:00.000-07:00Oh yes! I hate suspense. And not just contrived si...Oh yes! I hate suspense. And not just contrived sitcom suspense, where Fred pretends to own the bowling alley. Any suspense. When my copy of Harry Potter Book 7 arrives next Saturday morning, I'm going to open it straight to the next-to-last chapter to see who dies. <BR/><BR/>This may be why we are poets, not fiction writers.<BR/><BR/>Upeoah!David Weinstockhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14828791668002997996noreply@blogger.com