Did astrologist get it right?

On urbanbaby.com message board (I know, I know), this popped up Saturday night:

Astrology Mom Here: What Can I do do for you?

In no time, we were frantically vollying questions at her, posting our birthdays. I fought my way in, and posted my birthday. Here’s her response:

“really smart, passive, do not complete things as often as you’d like, many varied interests.”

Ha.

Well.

Hmmmm.

I see myself here, yes, except for the passive part. I would say more “passive aggressive.” Or that’s what my husband would say.

But I am definitely impressed.

Why I Love the Hound

Halloween is my favorite holiday.

For the past three years, I’ve read Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” in the weeks leading up to Halloween. Mina can be a real pill but it’s still wonderful descriptive horror writing.

This year I mixed it up and reread “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” The desolate moor is one of my alltime favorite settings. Holmes does some brilliant deductions, particularly the opening chapter with Dr. Mortimer.

But the Hound itself is a wonderful creation. A ferocious creature that rips out the throats of members of the cursed aristocratic clan of Baskervilles when they cross its path over the centuries. Just brillliant.

The foreword to the book talks about why this is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s most popular story. The answer: It has the foundation of an engrossing, suspenseful mystery, with Holmes and Watson doing their usual bit of solving, and then it adds the Supernatural. I agree. The baying of the hound on the moor, its massive footprints, the killing of the poor convict it mistook for a Baskerville…I’ve read the story three times and seen four different movie or TV interpretations. But still, when I settle in with the Hound I get CHILLS.

Why the “Mom Job” gets to me

So here’s the new sickening trend in plastic surgery: the “mommy job,” a tummy tuck, breast lift, and liposuction. Why? Let the New York Times explain In the Oct 4 issue: “The marketing of the ‘mommy makeover’ seeks to pathologize the postpartum body, characterizing pregnancy and childbirth as maladies with disfiguring aftereffects that can be repaired with the help of scalpels and cannulae.”

The natural effects of pregnancy and motherhood–gaining 40 or so pounds, birth and then months of breastfeeding–are so ugly, they must be removed so women can return to their younger, thinner, sexier selves.

That depresses me. I live in a time when youth has never been so venerated. And I work in a business in which being over 40 is not so hot. So I can’t allow myself to look like a middle-aged mother of two children, which is what I am. I have to get my hair colored; I have to take Spin and pilates classes to stay reasonably thin and toned; I have to wear clothes possessing some semblance of hipness. I have to try to look good but not try so hard that I make a fool of myself.

It’s a fast-moving river of conflicting currents and undertows. And sometimes I feel as if I am drowning in it.

Moms

Sometimes I need a mother. To help with the mess. To tell me I’m doing OK. To buy a rotisserie chicken and salad at the grocery store because I couldn’t shop on the way home and the fridge is empty. To love my kids when they are unlovable to anyone besides me.

And my mother wants to have a daughter who needs her. Who thinks she has some answers and is grateful for her.

And occasionally we try to not just email but talk on the phone and make some sort of connection.

And we can’t.

Max says, “Positive energy.”

As my friends know, my debut into the world of blogging almost started a riot in Queens and within hours I was described as “bimbo…loser….snob” by my fellow bloggers in the borough named after Charles II’s unhappy Portuguese bride, Queen Catherine of Braganza.

I sparred with my fellow Queensians for a while. Then I retreated.

I felt embarrassed. Blocked. Wanted to start a new blog name but couldn’t even do that. I’ve been feeling so frustrated by life in general that I picked Dorothy Parker’s “What fresh hell is this?” as my blog title.

Then Max pointed out if I want to create a new beginning I should invite positive energy into my life. Maybe beckoning toward Hades isn’t quite the right way to do it.

An editor friend of mine, when we had to stop gossiping and do actual work, would say to me, “More TK.” The expression “TK” in magazinespeak means “to come.” And you will see it sprinkled throughout sentences of not-completely-edited stories: “TK color scarf”… “TK-year-old source said.” It’s filler for info yet to arrive. But it means something you need to be complete WILL arrive. And by selecting it I am tentatively reaching out for something positive to come into my life.

More TK.

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