This hullaballoo about Maggie Gyllenhaal breastfeeding in public is so absolutely ridiculous I can't even comprehend it. She is feeding her baby. So what? I don't even know why this is newsworthy.

Knowing that lots of people are offended by this is embarrassing. Americans are so puritanical. I actually wanted someone to freak out on me when I was breastfeeding Hadley and Finn just so I could freak out right back at them and do that thing with my neck and point my finger and get all stank. No one ever did though. I got lots of looks, which I ignored. However, I was a little more discreet than Ms. Gyllenhaal. You'll notice in the pictures, it looks like she's not entirely aware that her baby is even nursing.

The writer on the Superficial's take on it though is actually very tame compared to others. I laughed when he said:

Maggie Gyllenhaal was spotted breastfeeding her daughter in public in New York City. And I really don't know what to say to these. It's not like it's Paris Hilton walking around with her vagina hanging out. It's breastfeeding. Making fun of her would be like going to a nude beach and making fun of everybody for being naked.

I had a somewhat epiphanic moment while reading Perez Hilton today. I saw this shot of Courteney Cox taken from behind her to show all of the cameras in front of her and I was taken aback. Holy shit that's a lot of cameras. The girl's just trying to get some lunch. I'm fully contributing to America's unhealthy obsession with celebrity by freebasing every celebrity tidbit I can find and seeing this picture made me feel kind of dirty. I'm aware. I'm working on my addiction. No need for an intervention. 

I would so drag my sister to this if we were even close to NYC. A yoga class in the middle of Times Square on June 21. I love the absurdity of it. And the challenge. The juxtaposition of calm and chaos. I've been trying to incorporate a little of this into my life lately. Just trying to make my practice less "precious". I tend to only practice when the conditions are perfect, i.e. in class. Occasionally, I'll try to practice with H&F around in the house but it ends up making me anxious and having the opposite effect. It's a work in progress...

Still want to chop my hair and dye it brown. However, I sent out an email to my personal panel for discussion and received lots of stellar advice. What does one do without a personal panel? To you personal panel, I tip my hat and say thank you.

I would not like to say thank you to King County though. You see, on Friday of last week, we woke up to a huge, dead raccoon at the foot of our driveway. It was in the street though. I naively thought the city would magically come whisk it away.

My kids are so unaffected, while we were pulling out into the street on the way to school Hadley says "Mom, dead raccoon." In the same tone she would say "Mom, there's the mailman." I ignored it too of course thinking that the city would come get it.

Saturday - Raccoon still there.

Sunday - Raccoon still there.

I know the city offices aren't open until Monday and I don't want little people walking to the elementary school past our house to see the rotting (because it's been in the 80s and it's 3 days later) carcass. So, I say to Peter "get on some disposable gloves, we're putting that bastard in a garbage bag." Peter balks and then sees that I'm dead serious. We get the thing into a bag and it was heinous. I will spare you the details but Peter and I felt like total warriors when we got back into the house. If we were total Neanderthals we would have bumped chests numerous times and drank beer. We just grinned at each other and said "we're badasses."

Monday - Peter is gone and the city returns my call and says "Uh, yeah, we don't do raccoons anymore. Our budget was cut so we don't pick them up anymore. Just put it in your trash. It's considered trash."
With Peter gone, it is up to me to bag the already stinky bagged raccoon and put it in the trash. Keep in mind people, our trash doesn't come until tomorrow. TOMORROW. As in 7 freaking days from the time of death. Yes, Sammamish residents that smell you smell is rotting animal and it's coming from my house and for days I haven't opened the windows because rotting animal smell would get in and it has made me GAG, numerous numerous times.

So, I double bag it and put it in the trash. I come inside and do the victory dance on the inside and feel like a woman of the prairie, ready to take on anything, churn butter at a moment's notice or squat and give birth in a field.
And they're finally going to haul that nasty thing away tomorrow.

Anyway, that felt good to blurt out. Even though I've been blurting it out to anyone and everyone who will listen, as I am wont to do. Blurting is cathartic for me.

Speaking of blurting, I leave you with this great quote from Charlotte Bronte:
"I'm just going to write because I cannot help it."