if i had a nickel

I’d have to put it in a jar somewhere and not touch it. Apparently, I am allergic to nickel. They mix it in with a lot of the jewelry here in the U.S. (cheap filler, even in more expensive stuff), and repeated exposure can cause a contact allergy. I blame all those damn earrings I used to have in my head: eight! A few years ago, my ears flipped out, and I couldn’t wear the earrings anymore. First I switched to all-silver and all-gold earrings, which helped for awhile, but then the plating would wear off, and finally I felt like clawing my ears off, so I decided I was done. I wear necklaces, mostly taking them off at night, but if I don’t, or sometimes even if I do, I get welts on my skin. Watches are the same. And now, I guess with the white-gold plating wearing down on my wedding rings, I can no longer wear them. It is beyond vexing.

While researching this issue and what to do about it (talk to the jeweler about re-plating? Try Nickel Guard?), I found THIS PICTURE, which is too scary to post. I’m serious. View at your own risk. In the meantime, I’m hoping for no nightmares tonight—and that that dude isn’t really allergic to nickel. Because, ouch.

dear student loan company,

It’s been a long time. Too long for you, not long enough for me, although I have used up my stack of Get-Out-of-Payment cards and there is nowhere else to run. I realize my first payment in forever is due in January and lest I forget, you have provided me with multiple reminders, in my mailbox, my email, in the sky, etc. Thank you. I guess. I can be flaky and forget. I guess I just want to say, I got the picture. I’m not looking forward to our reunion. I’m not sure there’s enough in the couch cushions to cover you, but I’ll look. In the meantime, I’ll ponder the monetary returns I have yet to see on that cute little degree I insisted on getting a few years back, as well as the things like curtains and brie I cavalierly purchased on your dime. I’m pretty sure you’re getting the last laugh on this one.

Snowflakes and Candy Canes,

penelope

L-A-M-E

Apparently, Netflix will no longer be selling previously viewed DVDs. Huh! No more Juno for $5.99?! Granted, I’ve only purchased a few used movies from them, but with free shipping to boot, having this option to buy was a big perk of the membership.  The email said something about bringing back the focus to providing great movies for rental. What-ev-er.

My question is, where will the surplus movies then go? If Netflix could direct me to the website where the cheapies will be available, that would be great, thanks. And it better be free shipping.

not naming any names

There's this episode of Sex & the City, one of my favorites actually, where the girls go to a baby shower in Connecticut for an old friend who used to be quite the party girl. Now the woman is all domesticated "perfection," in a completely unnerving and annoying way, considering her former city self. Anyway, all is going mostly fine for Charlotte at the party until the woman reveals that she's going to name her baby girl Shayla. Charlotte is completely horrified, because for years, Shayla was her name, her baby name. She supposedly made it up years ago, and told friends about it. And this is just not something you do, steal a friend's baby name.

I've been pretty free so far in the baby name discussion. I was open the first time around as well, to an extent. We didn't know whether it would be a boy or a girl, but K.Lo's name, first and middle, was pretty well established. Our boy name was less so, because at first we thought of Riley, and then somewhere along the line that fell apart (you do subject yourself, in revealing early, to Strong Opinions and Ridicule), and so we picked another and kept it under wraps until K.Lo was born. Then everyone knew who asked. If you ask now, I'll tell you.

This time around, the if-K.Lo-were-a-boy name was still in the running, quite near the top of the list, and one or two girl names were thrown around. One, in particular. Like all good writing ideas, though, it seems once you speak it out loud, it floats away from you in this little bubble and is claimed by the universe. Then one day the universe pops that bubble. If you say it, they will take it? Maybe the universe is laughing at you, who knows. Probably you won't figure that out in this lifetime.

Anyway, I feel all of sudden like I need to be a closed (i.e. bolted, combo-locked, drilled-shut, magically sealed) vault. And I don't mean to be overly dramatic or secretive or whatever about the name thing, because there's only so many names out there. And you can't own a name. And, really, first come, first serve. Whatevah. I'll come up with something better, and I do still believe in signs, i.e. reasons behind occurrences. I was meant to come up with something different than what I originally had in mind. For both the boy and the girl. Ironically enough.

Names are fun, and I love discussing them. I like going through the books and tossing ideas around. If I weren't so hormonal and maybe jaded at the moment, I might not be so irrational about keeping mum, from now on. It's just, despite the limits of originality, there's still something to coming up with a name for your baby. It's your own little stamp, a lifelong stamp that you get to put on another human being. And think about how much your name, no matter how relatively popular, shapes you. It's just so, I don't know, vexing, when after speaking it out loud, there it is, all of a sudden gone. Uncannily chosen by another, who may or may not have known. Anyway, keeping the cards a little closer to my chest from now on, I am. Maybe now instead of discussing it, revealing it early, there will be more fun in keeping it a surprise.