Friday, May 16, 2008

Megadik and raw meat

This morning I woke up to find this in my inbox from someone called 'Ward Clemons'.
Subject: Negroes admire with the of the size - we will surpass them!


Have they ever told you this, "God! Your p bqe en dtj is is so small!"?
Didn't you feel sad?

Don't let ladies choose sexual toys but not you! M kyz eg ucr ad rr ik will make you a real man !

You should simply rely on this excellent preparation!

"Wow! Your pe
oq ni ye s is so large!" Isn't that what you always wanted to hear?
Soon you'll be the only one they will want!Me omp ga bd di kf k is your real cure!

(And then a strange-looking link to the product site)
As tempting as a product with the name Megadik is, I don't know what's more annoying - the racial slur, the racial sterotyping, the fact that people think I have a penis, or the bad grammar. I find all of them offensive. And does anyone actually still use the word Negro? I thought that went out of fashion with the American civil war. I need to take another look at my spam filter pronto.

We've booked our annual holiday this year, Julia's first, and I'm really looking forward to it. With all the stuff we have to pack for her I think I'm going to be able to fit a total of three items for myself in there. Gone are the days of matching shoes and clutch bags for every dress. But, I'll be there in my one pair of khaki shorts and Birkenstocks working the Bavarian tourist look, and by god, I'll have a good time doing it.

I'm looking forward to Julia having her first swim too. We bought her one of those 1920's type bathing suits that covers her arms and legs in UV fabric. When we were kids my mom had us running around in our bikini bottoms, and a holiday was not considered a success unless we had at least one major sunburn and lots of peeling skin on our return. These days we know better, thank god. In fact I wouldn't mind one of those bathing suits myself - covers a multitude of sins.

The weather here in London has finally cooled down. Of course it couldn't just cool down and remain sunny. No, we had to have accompanying rain too. But for once, at least, I'm not complaining. Julia had trouble sleeping in the heat of last week, so cooler weather means a happier sleepier baby.

We saw a baby with a swollen black eye yesterday, being carried by its dad in a baby bjorn. Elizabeth looked at me and said, "Do you think that was a birth defect or a black eye?" I said I didn't even want to contemplate what she was thinking. Even after having a baby myself and knowing what it's like to be so dead on your feet exhausted and frayed at the edges, I can honestly say that I have never ever contemplated or been compelled to hurt my child out of frustration or anger. It is inconceivable to me that someone could consciously hurt a baby that is so utterly defenseless. Completely inconceivable.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, worked for many years as an infant-parent psychotherapist, and with a good deal of parents who had psychological, alcohol and drug problems. So she's seen her fair share of babies that have born the brunt of their parents anger. I can't listen to the stories because they are so utterly distressing.

Julia is now at that age, five months, where she is constantly on the move. She's on the verge of crawling, but not quite. What she does do is roll over and scootch around and if you turn your back for a second she's in a different position. This means I have to watch her like a hawk and constantly have my hand on her stomach on the changing table in case she tries to move off of it. It's a full-time job keeping an eye on her, and I think this remaining baby weight is going to come off soon enough with the amount of energy it takes to ensure she doesn't hurt herself. Which is admittedly what could have happened to the aforementioned black-eyed baby, but that little one didn't look old enough to be moving around like that yet.

I've found a great butchers that does organic meat. Really lovely stuff, except that one of the butchers that works there goes from cutting the meat with his bare hands to then processing my credit card. No wiping or washing in between these two actions. I gingerly take my card back from him and then as soon as I am out of the store reach for one of Julia's Milton's sterilizing wipes to give my card the once over. Next time I'm going to say something to him. I mean, this is not just me being germ-phobe anal right? There must be some health and safety rules about this sort of thing. We're talking about raw meat?! And surely handling money and cards and then going back to handling the meat can't be good either right?

And on that appetizing note I really should go and forage before Julia wakes for her lunch and a walk.

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