I did not mean to take a week off from posting here, but my chi has been sluggish. That’s the official word from my acupuncturist. My chi is humping along like a sad little donkey struggling with two loads of bricks up a 15% grade in 110 degree heat. At least that’s what came to mind when Denise (acupuncturist) mimicked the halt, humpy quality of my chi pulse for me yesterday. Then she stuck two dozen needles in me and let me lie there in my underwear until I started hallucinating about that episode of Absolutely Fabulous when she gets her toe operated on to remove an acupuncture needle — “I’ve only ever had acupuncture on my head!” (Look of horror.) Fortunately, Denise had also seen that episode and made a point of showing me all the needles were out.
Love Chinese medicine. LOVE IT. When I was pregnant I was having these weird hip sensations, like my pelvis was falling apart. I got bossed into taking some Chinese herbs and the pain cleared up within a day, labor was efficient and uncomplicated, blah blah blah. So now I tell every pregnant woman I know to find a good Chinese herbalist, and they all go, “hmm, okay,” and they probably don’t, but what would life be if you weren’t free to ignore advice from shifty people with sudden, intense enthusiasms that make them feel as though THEY know the truth and YOU don’t, you poor, unevolved believers in aspirin and such.
Jackson panic of the week:
Me: Where’s the baby?
Jack: What the fuck do you mean, “where’s the baby?”
Sudden frantic search of apartment. Baby is found — he has carefully climbed halfway down the stairs after closing the security babyproofing gate politely behind him. (I love it how babies kind of miss the concept but they understand the procedure, at least.)
Jack: At least he closed the gate behind him.
Me: Gee, he didn’t want us to fall down the stairs.