I was trying like hell to put this photo in the previous blog entry, but it wasn't working. This is my favorite necklace. Des was inspired by a fountain we saw together on when we visited Chicago this summer. isn't it incredible? She does good work...
This is her blog.
There are lots more pretty pictures there.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Topic jambalaya
Hi all! Today's a crazy mixed-up post.
First, I decided to look for some things to use my Borders gift cards on, and bought several CDs for the baby, including an album of Metallica lullabies. Seriously, click the link and listen. Someone has decided that no matter how dark the lyrics or subject matter of a song, if you make it acoustic and use the vibraphone and gockenspiel, it is a lullaby. Besides Metallica, you can get Tool, the Cure, Pink Floyd, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Nine Inch Nails, and more... I also bought the Free to Be You and Me book, and plan to get the CD as well.
Last night at our childbirth class, we did a guided meditation-type thing at the end. It was pretty relaxing, but the voice was so familiar... I couldn't place it, exactly, until we were done and all stood up. The guy next to me announced "Betty White put me to sleep!" I don't know whether it was actually Betty White, but it did sound like her.
Say, you know what you could use? A nice piece of jewelry for yourself or a loved one. My friend Des has just moved and is poor as a mofo, but look at this incredible jewelry she makes and sells!
Isn't this cute?
And finally, I was talking with Mom the other day about a local figure. His name is Kevin Johnson, and he played basketball for the Pheonix Suns. He went to one of my high schools. He's done a lot of good in the community, like rehabbing a part of an old neighborhood that was pretty... ghetto and attracting a Starbucks, an art gallery, a bookstore, and other shops. He has also started a charter school for elementary students, and he has other projects that are positive for the community. Then there are some projects that, well, people have differing views on. That high school I attended? Well, it was struggling, and the school board essentially handed it over to his corporation, and they opened it as a charter as well. It is non-union, so pretty much all the union teachers were displaced, and there was some bad juju too with the way the school's assets were handled. It was a performing arts school, and the parents had raised a LOT of money over the years buying things like band equipment. Many people were displeased with how that kind of thing was handled after the switch. Finally,because it's a charter, they have more flexibilty in terms of pay, and essentially called the administrators of the school "Superintendants" and assigned several "principals" so that they all received kind of inflated pay. To be fair (because I tend to see this as a negative), the school has recently renewed its charter after 5 years in operation, and some people feel that it's doing well. There are also some things he or his corporation have done that are pretty crappy. For example, something like half of the properties he owns in Oak Park, the aforementioned ghetto, have been cited and are in horrible disrepair. They are falling down and collecting refuse. When this was brought to the public's attention, Johnson pretty much just refused to address it. The latest news is that he is planning to open a school in New York.
Well, what Mom and I were agreeing about is that maybe it's time for this guy to take a little break. Not to quit or scale back anything, but it seems like he's got his hand in too many things, you know? It seems to me that it's a good time to focus on the things that are already underway and make sure you have your shit together before branching out and trying to do yet more, bigger things. Seems reasonable, right?
The big news this week is that he might consider a run for mayor, and my local paper seems to be behind the idea.
Am I nuts, or am I the only one with common sense?
Oh yeah, and I've noticed a couple new commenters, and just wanted to say hello and welcome aboard!
That's it, take care, all!
First, I decided to look for some things to use my Borders gift cards on, and bought several CDs for the baby, including an album of Metallica lullabies. Seriously, click the link and listen. Someone has decided that no matter how dark the lyrics or subject matter of a song, if you make it acoustic and use the vibraphone and gockenspiel, it is a lullaby. Besides Metallica, you can get Tool, the Cure, Pink Floyd, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Nine Inch Nails, and more... I also bought the Free to Be You and Me book, and plan to get the CD as well.
Last night at our childbirth class, we did a guided meditation-type thing at the end. It was pretty relaxing, but the voice was so familiar... I couldn't place it, exactly, until we were done and all stood up. The guy next to me announced "Betty White put me to sleep!" I don't know whether it was actually Betty White, but it did sound like her.
Say, you know what you could use? A nice piece of jewelry for yourself or a loved one. My friend Des has just moved and is poor as a mofo, but look at this incredible jewelry she makes and sells!
Isn't this cute?
And finally, I was talking with Mom the other day about a local figure. His name is Kevin Johnson, and he played basketball for the Pheonix Suns. He went to one of my high schools. He's done a lot of good in the community, like rehabbing a part of an old neighborhood that was pretty... ghetto and attracting a Starbucks, an art gallery, a bookstore, and other shops. He has also started a charter school for elementary students, and he has other projects that are positive for the community. Then there are some projects that, well, people have differing views on. That high school I attended? Well, it was struggling, and the school board essentially handed it over to his corporation, and they opened it as a charter as well. It is non-union, so pretty much all the union teachers were displaced, and there was some bad juju too with the way the school's assets were handled. It was a performing arts school, and the parents had raised a LOT of money over the years buying things like band equipment. Many people were displeased with how that kind of thing was handled after the switch. Finally,because it's a charter, they have more flexibilty in terms of pay, and essentially called the administrators of the school "Superintendants" and assigned several "principals" so that they all received kind of inflated pay. To be fair (because I tend to see this as a negative), the school has recently renewed its charter after 5 years in operation, and some people feel that it's doing well. There are also some things he or his corporation have done that are pretty crappy. For example, something like half of the properties he owns in Oak Park, the aforementioned ghetto, have been cited and are in horrible disrepair. They are falling down and collecting refuse. When this was brought to the public's attention, Johnson pretty much just refused to address it. The latest news is that he is planning to open a school in New York.
Well, what Mom and I were agreeing about is that maybe it's time for this guy to take a little break. Not to quit or scale back anything, but it seems like he's got his hand in too many things, you know? It seems to me that it's a good time to focus on the things that are already underway and make sure you have your shit together before branching out and trying to do yet more, bigger things. Seems reasonable, right?
The big news this week is that he might consider a run for mayor, and my local paper seems to be behind the idea.
Am I nuts, or am I the only one with common sense?
Oh yeah, and I've noticed a couple new commenters, and just wanted to say hello and welcome aboard!
That's it, take care, all!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Presents!
Azadeh got a bunch of great books, as I mentioned in a previous post. I laid them out so you could see!
The Lankee Cats are going to demonstrate the utility of the books:
And finally, we got several non-book presents as well. Clockwise from top left is a blanket, a "taggie" (a blanket with loops of ribbon that kids like to play with/chew on) from Grandma, a "Sweetpea" outfit from Grandma, a Johnny Cash lullaby album from Grandma, Mary Jane socks, a Nancy Pearl librarian action figure with shushing motion*, and a bib and burp cloth.
*This is actually Sweetie's. He won it in one of the two shower games we played. It was supposed to be a co-ed baby shower, but he was the only guy! At one point, there was talk of lassoing a SMUD guy who knocked at the door just so Sweetie would have some male companionship.
The Lankee Cats are going to demonstrate the utility of the books:
And finally, we got several non-book presents as well. Clockwise from top left is a blanket, a "taggie" (a blanket with loops of ribbon that kids like to play with/chew on) from Grandma, a "Sweetpea" outfit from Grandma, a Johnny Cash lullaby album from Grandma, Mary Jane socks, a Nancy Pearl librarian action figure with shushing motion*, and a bib and burp cloth.
*This is actually Sweetie's. He won it in one of the two shower games we played. It was supposed to be a co-ed baby shower, but he was the only guy! At one point, there was talk of lassoing a SMUD guy who knocked at the door just so Sweetie would have some male companionship.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Happy happy joy joy (finally, huh?)
Well, I'm finally feeling a tad better. Last night we went to sushi. I only had one roll (an avocado-cucumber roll), but it was delightful. We also saw the owner, whose company we always enjoy, and finally met his 3-year-old daughter, who is adorable! He told her that I have a baby in my tummy, and she rubbed her tummy and said "I don't have a baby in my tummy."
This morning we got ready for the baby shower Sweetie's co-workers threw for us. They had a beautiful array of food, and I was feeling well enough to sample most of it. Bite-sized cinnamon rolls, potato casserole thing, croissants with jam... I had asked them if we might have a book shower to fill little Azadeh's bookshelf. Everyone could bring thier childhood favorites. Well, if I haven't mentioned it, Sweetie is a librarian, so they were ALL OVER that. We got so many awesome books for her. What was great was that for each book, someone had a story about how their kids made them read it over and over, or how they loved it, or how they just found it recently but it's by a favorite author, or where it came from (India, in the case of one gift!). What was most surprising to me (in a happy way) was that probably 50% of the books were ones that not only did I not have as a child myself, they were books I hadn't even heard of! I mean, we got classics like Peter Rabbit, Pat the Bunny, and Blueberries for Sal (none of which I had), but we also got The Library Dragon and Baby Beluga. I'm really delighted. I may even make a more detailed post later about just the books.
We got home just in time for me to get to my hair appointment. I love my stylist, and she's in a cool new studio. It was owned by a sculptor, and he decorated it, well, with body parts! There are symbols phallic, yonic, and mammarian. I also now have a hot-ass haircut and color, which always makes me feel good.
Because it was getting late, I decided to get a pizza, so I went to La Bohemia Trattoria. We've had pizzas from there several times and always enjoyed them. Tonight I asked if it was all right if I just stayed and read while I waited. The waiter was really nice, and brought me a glass of water, and later another waitress offered me bread. I also saw Greg Brown, guitarist for Cake, come pick up his pizza.
And now I have eaten pizza and I don't feel too horrible. Knock wood, but I think I'm finally getting back to normal. I'm still taking my anti-nausea medication, and I'm not 100%, but getting there. Thank goodness.
I guess my happiness quaifies as mundane for a lot of folks, but this was a great day.
This morning we got ready for the baby shower Sweetie's co-workers threw for us. They had a beautiful array of food, and I was feeling well enough to sample most of it. Bite-sized cinnamon rolls, potato casserole thing, croissants with jam... I had asked them if we might have a book shower to fill little Azadeh's bookshelf. Everyone could bring thier childhood favorites. Well, if I haven't mentioned it, Sweetie is a librarian, so they were ALL OVER that. We got so many awesome books for her. What was great was that for each book, someone had a story about how their kids made them read it over and over, or how they loved it, or how they just found it recently but it's by a favorite author, or where it came from (India, in the case of one gift!). What was most surprising to me (in a happy way) was that probably 50% of the books were ones that not only did I not have as a child myself, they were books I hadn't even heard of! I mean, we got classics like Peter Rabbit, Pat the Bunny, and Blueberries for Sal (none of which I had), but we also got The Library Dragon and Baby Beluga. I'm really delighted. I may even make a more detailed post later about just the books.
We got home just in time for me to get to my hair appointment. I love my stylist, and she's in a cool new studio. It was owned by a sculptor, and he decorated it, well, with body parts! There are symbols phallic, yonic, and mammarian. I also now have a hot-ass haircut and color, which always makes me feel good.
Because it was getting late, I decided to get a pizza, so I went to La Bohemia Trattoria. We've had pizzas from there several times and always enjoyed them. Tonight I asked if it was all right if I just stayed and read while I waited. The waiter was really nice, and brought me a glass of water, and later another waitress offered me bread. I also saw Greg Brown, guitarist for Cake, come pick up his pizza.
And now I have eaten pizza and I don't feel too horrible. Knock wood, but I think I'm finally getting back to normal. I'm still taking my anti-nausea medication, and I'm not 100%, but getting there. Thank goodness.
I guess my happiness quaifies as mundane for a lot of folks, but this was a great day.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Don't be fooled by the picture
I'm actually quite cranky -- much crankier than 8:30 am usually accommodates. Today is the day I turn in grades, and I have FINALLY finished grading all the essays. They sucked, pure and simple. One of the major assignments for my 1st period class, the kids put very little effort into. They put it off until the last minute, didn't do research (or used Wikipedia), didn't proofread... And now they're checking their grades and are shocked, SHOCKED to find that their grades match their effort. And so they are whining and wheedling and cajoling and wondering if there are assignments they can make up or re-do and insisting that I said they could turn things in late (two months late, in one case).
There is one young lady who has taken advantage of every kind impulse I have ever had. She managed to get me to accept her paper very late, correct it (although I had 40 other, timely papers to correct), and return it so she could get another draft on file. And today? She wants to know if she can turn in another paper today. After I had already told her that the latest I could accept papers was Wednesday, because my grades have to be turned into the office today. And she seemed wholly surprised that I couldn't take a paper via e-mail later this afternoon.
There's another kid I am growing to really dislike. He's a conniver. A few weeks ago I heard him at lunch telling his friends to not remind the Spanish teacher if she forgot to give them the quiz. He said they should all pretend they didn't remember it, either. This morning I heard him encouraging other students to go to their zero period teacher and try to negotiate their grades, saying "Just tell him 'Oh, I did turn that in.'" And then of course this kid, whose college-level 4,000 word piece of original research was on who really won the Vietnam War (turns out it was the North), wants me to accept an assignment two months late, telling me that I said he could turn it in late. Said assignment was supposed to help prepare him for that wreck of an essay, so to do it now is meaningless, but I gave him 50% credit on it (an F), just to get him out of my hair. All I have to say is... good luck with those tactics in college, kid.
I didn't sleep well last night. I've been avoiding giving you the full picture of my recovery from this illness, but it includes two prescription anti-nausea drugs. One of them I take orally, half an hour before eating. If it is effective, I hate to think what I would feel like without it. The other must be taken... the wrong way. It is supposed to make me drowsy, so on Tuesday and Wednesday evening I took it before bed. I still woke up with heartburn/nausea both nights, so I figured it wasn't that effective either. I was feeling a little better last night, and generally uncomfortable with the idea of taking things... the wrong way, so I didn't take it last night. Well, I now have a control night for how I feel without the meds. It feels like whatever valve at the top of my stomach that keeps the bile in has taken a vacation, and when I lie down the bile just washes right up my throat. In desperation, I tried to sleep sitting up, but wasn't very comfortable, and then the baby was throwing a fit in utero. She can really kick, too.
So all in all, this morning I am stressed, irritated, bilious, nauseated, and tired. The picture is from Saturday. I was happy and eating pineapple. Ah, those were the days.
There is one young lady who has taken advantage of every kind impulse I have ever had. She managed to get me to accept her paper very late, correct it (although I had 40 other, timely papers to correct), and return it so she could get another draft on file. And today? She wants to know if she can turn in another paper today. After I had already told her that the latest I could accept papers was Wednesday, because my grades have to be turned into the office today. And she seemed wholly surprised that I couldn't take a paper via e-mail later this afternoon.
There's another kid I am growing to really dislike. He's a conniver. A few weeks ago I heard him at lunch telling his friends to not remind the Spanish teacher if she forgot to give them the quiz. He said they should all pretend they didn't remember it, either. This morning I heard him encouraging other students to go to their zero period teacher and try to negotiate their grades, saying "Just tell him 'Oh, I did turn that in.'" And then of course this kid, whose college-level 4,000 word piece of original research was on who really won the Vietnam War (turns out it was the North), wants me to accept an assignment two months late, telling me that I said he could turn it in late. Said assignment was supposed to help prepare him for that wreck of an essay, so to do it now is meaningless, but I gave him 50% credit on it (an F), just to get him out of my hair. All I have to say is... good luck with those tactics in college, kid.
I didn't sleep well last night. I've been avoiding giving you the full picture of my recovery from this illness, but it includes two prescription anti-nausea drugs. One of them I take orally, half an hour before eating. If it is effective, I hate to think what I would feel like without it. The other must be taken... the wrong way. It is supposed to make me drowsy, so on Tuesday and Wednesday evening I took it before bed. I still woke up with heartburn/nausea both nights, so I figured it wasn't that effective either. I was feeling a little better last night, and generally uncomfortable with the idea of taking things... the wrong way, so I didn't take it last night. Well, I now have a control night for how I feel without the meds. It feels like whatever valve at the top of my stomach that keeps the bile in has taken a vacation, and when I lie down the bile just washes right up my throat. In desperation, I tried to sleep sitting up, but wasn't very comfortable, and then the baby was throwing a fit in utero. She can really kick, too.
So all in all, this morning I am stressed, irritated, bilious, nauseated, and tired. The picture is from Saturday. I was happy and eating pineapple. Ah, those were the days.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
So do you feel better?
Well, given that on Monday I felt bad enough to go to the emergency room, I guess you could say I feel better. But I still feel like dick. Like creamed dick on toast. Today I have had an anti-nausea pill, about half a cup of rice pudding, and several sips of Vitamin Water. I feel like I could puke at any minute. In fact, I've been keeping my blue barf bag handy just in case. For someone who loves food as much as I do, it is strange to think of not really wanting to eat anything. Even my favorite foods sound horrible. I have a banana sitting here in case I get hungry, and it's not happening. I don't want to starve the bambina, but food is what causes the badness. Food = bad. Yuck.
I hope this goes away soon. I am usually a very healthy person, and I am ready to get back to that state.
I hope this goes away soon. I am usually a very healthy person, and I am ready to get back to that state.
Monday, January 21, 2008
That sucked ass
Last night I got home from dinner with mom and all hell broke loose. I had some sort of stomach issue that was venting from both ends. About every half hour all night long, I had to go do something bathroom-related, sometimes both at once. The bathroom is a crime scene, and I cannot disclose the whereabouts of the bathmat or either of my winter robes. Stuff came out of me that I never put in.
Knowing that dehydration is one of the main causes of early labor, I figured I'd try hard to get some water down, or Vitamin Water, or something. But it wasn't happening. I had called Kaiser and they said if I had any cramping or if it didn't go away by a certain point, I should go in. I went in.
We checked in at about 11:30 and out at about 5:30. I had to be given 3 liters of fluids. I was apparently dehydrated enough that there were ketones in my urine. Not to mention the fact that it was the color of a nice tawny port. They gave me a great anti-nausea medication that made me feel way better and allowed me to get some sleep. Mom and Sweetie were there, and I'm sure they were having a delightful time, because in between repositioning the fetal monitor, getting blood pressure taken, or whatever, I was just asleep. The bad news is that that medication has worn off and I still feel quite nauseated. Hopefully I won't have the same kind of night I did last night, because I have to work tomorrow. I have zero interest in food at the moment, and haven't had anything besides the canned peaches they gave me at the hospital.
Anyway, this experience definitely reinforced our resolve not to go to the hospital to deliver until the very last minute, so we don't have to wait around there. Oh yeah, and... JUSTIFIED! I had told Mom how small the rooms were, and she thought I was exaggerating. She believes me now that she and Sweetie, both slender folk, had to move the chair to get to the door, squeeze between the chair and the bed, and hand their belongings out separately.
Knowing that dehydration is one of the main causes of early labor, I figured I'd try hard to get some water down, or Vitamin Water, or something. But it wasn't happening. I had called Kaiser and they said if I had any cramping or if it didn't go away by a certain point, I should go in. I went in.
We checked in at about 11:30 and out at about 5:30. I had to be given 3 liters of fluids. I was apparently dehydrated enough that there were ketones in my urine. Not to mention the fact that it was the color of a nice tawny port. They gave me a great anti-nausea medication that made me feel way better and allowed me to get some sleep. Mom and Sweetie were there, and I'm sure they were having a delightful time, because in between repositioning the fetal monitor, getting blood pressure taken, or whatever, I was just asleep. The bad news is that that medication has worn off and I still feel quite nauseated. Hopefully I won't have the same kind of night I did last night, because I have to work tomorrow. I have zero interest in food at the moment, and haven't had anything besides the canned peaches they gave me at the hospital.
Anyway, this experience definitely reinforced our resolve not to go to the hospital to deliver until the very last minute, so we don't have to wait around there. Oh yeah, and... JUSTIFIED! I had told Mom how small the rooms were, and she thought I was exaggerating. She believes me now that she and Sweetie, both slender folk, had to move the chair to get to the door, squeeze between the chair and the bed, and hand their belongings out separately.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
A very parent-y weekend
I don't actually have much that's exciting to say, but thought I'd update you.
Friday night I sold snacks at the basketball game at school, which was much more grueling than I thought it would be. I had to start heating cheese at like 3:30, and from then on it was all about moving sacks of ice, crock pots, grocery carts laden with sodas, etc. until the actual game when I was on my feet selling junk food for over 4 hours. And then we cleaned up. I actually got all the way back to my classroom, then realized I'd forgotten the cash box in the gym. I was so tired and my feet and back hurt so much that I DROVE through campus back to the gym! I will say, though, that unlike at some previous volunteer opportunities, the kids this time were really responsible and helpful. In fact, we had MORE kids than had originally volunteered, because one asked me after school "If I didn't sign up, can I still help?" Yes you can, sir. Nevertheless, I was so exhausted by the time I got home that I was going through the house doing the things that needed to be done in a path to the bedroom -- feed the cat, set the alarm, brush teeth -- so I didn't have to do any backtracking or walk any more than necessary.
Yesterday my online forum buddies came over and we hung out and went to the park. It was super-fun, but in the interest of privacy I won't post pictures of all the cute kiddoes and mamas who were here. I love the park that's around the corner, and I can't wait to take Zadie there. I do, however, wish there were more crosswalks with lights across the big busy street I live next to. I got to see the Moby wrap in action for a while, and close-up, and boy the kids look comfy in there! Of course, it might be a different story in August in Sacramento.
In the evening, Sweetie and I went to Kathmandu Kitchen and ate dinner, and then pretty much crashed.
This morning, I read the paper and fooled around on the internet, then crawled back into bed for a short nap. I called a friend who was supposed to get out of his wife's hair for a couple hours. She's a bit past her due date, and she was apparently craving some alone time. So he was going to bring over their toddler and hang out. But within about a half-hour of our phone call, he called back and said he wasn't coming -- sounds like she's in early labor! So I'm super-excited, and my friend will likely have a baby before this weekend's out!
Friday night I sold snacks at the basketball game at school, which was much more grueling than I thought it would be. I had to start heating cheese at like 3:30, and from then on it was all about moving sacks of ice, crock pots, grocery carts laden with sodas, etc. until the actual game when I was on my feet selling junk food for over 4 hours. And then we cleaned up. I actually got all the way back to my classroom, then realized I'd forgotten the cash box in the gym. I was so tired and my feet and back hurt so much that I DROVE through campus back to the gym! I will say, though, that unlike at some previous volunteer opportunities, the kids this time were really responsible and helpful. In fact, we had MORE kids than had originally volunteered, because one asked me after school "If I didn't sign up, can I still help?" Yes you can, sir. Nevertheless, I was so exhausted by the time I got home that I was going through the house doing the things that needed to be done in a path to the bedroom -- feed the cat, set the alarm, brush teeth -- so I didn't have to do any backtracking or walk any more than necessary.
Yesterday my online forum buddies came over and we hung out and went to the park. It was super-fun, but in the interest of privacy I won't post pictures of all the cute kiddoes and mamas who were here. I love the park that's around the corner, and I can't wait to take Zadie there. I do, however, wish there were more crosswalks with lights across the big busy street I live next to. I got to see the Moby wrap in action for a while, and close-up, and boy the kids look comfy in there! Of course, it might be a different story in August in Sacramento.
In the evening, Sweetie and I went to Kathmandu Kitchen and ate dinner, and then pretty much crashed.
This morning, I read the paper and fooled around on the internet, then crawled back into bed for a short nap. I called a friend who was supposed to get out of his wife's hair for a couple hours. She's a bit past her due date, and she was apparently craving some alone time. So he was going to bring over their toddler and hang out. But within about a half-hour of our phone call, he called back and said he wasn't coming -- sounds like she's in early labor! So I'm super-excited, and my friend will likely have a baby before this weekend's out!
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Well, color me embarrassed!
Many years ago (1995-ish), I was a young punk rocker. I and my punk rock friends went one night to Cheezer's Pizza and ordered pizzas and sodas. They gave us the cups for soda and took my friend Sean's check. They ran it through some sort of check verification machine and let us sit down. The machine made the usual noises and spat out a receipt. A few minutes later (I SWEAR we weren't being loud or obnoxious), they announced that the check hadn't gone through and that we had to pay for our sodas and leave. I had money, so I offered to write a check myself (this was in the days before ATM cards were commonly accepted). The pizza guy insisted "no good, no good." We scrounged up the cash for our sodas and left, convinced that it was because of our fashion choices rather than finances. We swore that the first one of us to give birth would save the placenta and come back and drop it on their doorstep. Kriste was actually the first to give birth, but she didn't take the placenta.
Okay, fast forward to yesterday. I send out an email to the effect that the Treehuggers club is going to need someone else to sponsor it until the end of the year.
I get an email back from the vice principal. It reads as follows: "Save the placenta. It makes great tree fertilizer. :)"
He's a real joker, so in the same spirit, I send him back this email: "No, we're eating it like early man. (Actually, probably TMI, but I promised many years ago that when I gave birth, I'd save the placenta to drop on the doorstep of Cheezer's Pizza, whose management threw my friends and me out simply for looking like punk rockers.) "
This morning, I have another email from Jim, but this time, it's addressed to the principal, and I'm just CC'd. It includes both our previous messages in their entirety and reads: "She definitely fits in on our team!"
Okay, fast forward to yesterday. I send out an email to the effect that the Treehuggers club is going to need someone else to sponsor it until the end of the year.
I get an email back from the vice principal. It reads as follows: "Save the placenta. It makes great tree fertilizer. :)"
He's a real joker, so in the same spirit, I send him back this email: "No, we're eating it like early man. (Actually, probably TMI, but I promised many years ago that when I gave birth, I'd save the placenta to drop on the doorstep of Cheezer's Pizza, whose management threw my friends and me out simply for looking like punk rockers.) "
This morning, I have another email from Jim, but this time, it's addressed to the principal, and I'm just CC'd. It includes both our previous messages in their entirety and reads: "She definitely fits in on our team!"
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Call me a hippie...
But I was listening to my guided imagery podcast on childbirth tonight, and it has about three different main ideas that are all shuffled up. Main idea #1: General confidence-building affirmations. "Your body knows how to do this... Women have been doing this for centuries." Main idea #2: Visualize the process. "Your cervix is opening... You are becoming effaced." Main idea #3: Vaguely spiritual new-agey shit. "There is a circle of strength surrounding you... all the goodwill you have ever been wished is coming to you."
Under this third category, there's some ancestor worship type stuff. The mellow voice was like "Imagine your ancestors saying your baby's name." My very first, cynical impulse was to go "Yeah, my ancestors, the cave people." But then I checked that impulse (I'm trying to not be so cynical) and instead thought of my real ancestors, my grandpa Vince and Great-Grandma Bertha (Granny). I imagined Granny sitting at her card table with a puzzle half-done, her cat-eye rhinestone glasses sparkling, her tissue-soft skin draped gently at her jowls, nodding and smiling and saying "Zadie." I imagined Grandpa trying to tell me something about her, starting with the first syllable of every other female relative: "Joy-Am-Ja-Mel-Ka... ZADIE." He did that almost all the time after his stroke, even after all his other verbal tics had gone away, and the time after his stroke was most of my life.
Especially when I first lost my grandpa, one of the hardest things was realizing he would never hold my child. It was the easiest way to set me to tears. But imagining him saying her name today didn't make me sad at all. It gave me comfort. I know he would love her the way he loved me, and I never, for one second of my life, doubted his love for me. I know my granny loved me, too. And if they're somewhere, anywhere, even if that's just in my memory, I know they're happy for me and love this baby.
Under this third category, there's some ancestor worship type stuff. The mellow voice was like "Imagine your ancestors saying your baby's name." My very first, cynical impulse was to go "Yeah, my ancestors, the cave people." But then I checked that impulse (I'm trying to not be so cynical) and instead thought of my real ancestors, my grandpa Vince and Great-Grandma Bertha (Granny). I imagined Granny sitting at her card table with a puzzle half-done, her cat-eye rhinestone glasses sparkling, her tissue-soft skin draped gently at her jowls, nodding and smiling and saying "Zadie." I imagined Grandpa trying to tell me something about her, starting with the first syllable of every other female relative: "Joy-Am-Ja-Mel-Ka... ZADIE." He did that almost all the time after his stroke, even after all his other verbal tics had gone away, and the time after his stroke was most of my life.
Especially when I first lost my grandpa, one of the hardest things was realizing he would never hold my child. It was the easiest way to set me to tears. But imagining him saying her name today didn't make me sad at all. It gave me comfort. I know he would love her the way he loved me, and I never, for one second of my life, doubted his love for me. I know my granny loved me, too. And if they're somewhere, anywhere, even if that's just in my memory, I know they're happy for me and love this baby.
Shockingly bad breakfast
I assume that most of us have similar routines. Something like the same breakfast every day, perhaps two that you rotate. On work days, I generally toast two Eggo Nutrigrain waffles and spread them with crunchy peanut butter and jelly. I slap them together to make a waffle sandwich, and go about my day.
Usually during the week, I go to Cafe Milazzo, a little family-run Italian joint down the street, and get either a muffin or a scone once a week for a change. Well, they've been on holiday and have been closed since the end of December. Last week I just ate breakfast at home every day, but today I really wanted a muffin or scone.
I drove down the street and passed Coffeeworks. Great place, but usually difficult to park, so I pass by. I pass Starbucks, but I don't really do the 'bucks, so I keep driving. I end up at the Co-op. Now, they have about three bakeries that supply their goodies. Bennet's Bakery makes such incredible yumminess that I feel guilty eating them, so I skipped those. I didn't see the Old Soul Bakery stuff until I'd already chosen a mixed-berry oat bran muffin from something like Godin's bakery. I got into the car, broke off a bite of muffin, and hoped desperately that something bad had happened to that bite. If it had, it had also happened to all of them. It was dry, baking-powdery, and sucked the moisture out of my mouth like an underripe persimmon. (Ever had that happen? Not twice, I bet.)
I decided that I DESPERATELY needed something besides the water I pack in every day to wash the horror out o fmy mouth. At this point, I am on the freeway, but I am about to get to Florin Road. Florin Road is one of the few places in Sacramento that is not covered in Starbuckses. (For this, I would have gone to Starbucks. It was an emergency.) It is, however, littered with gas stations and fast food outlets. But how does one know which places have good coffee? I never go to these places, so I am at a loss as to where to get something decent. Finally, I am almost at school, but I haven't given up.
I pull into the Toyota dealership and park. I walk inside and head to the customer lounge. I use their weird machine for a quarter (I even have to ask the guy at the service desk for change) and get a "mocha" in a styrofoam cup. Good enough. I walk back to my car without anyone trying to sell me a car (although someone did ask if I was waiting for the shuttle) and drive across the street to my school.
(And on the off chance that my secret name of "Horticulturalist High" had you stumped, now you know where I work.)
Please, Milazzo people, come back!!
Usually during the week, I go to Cafe Milazzo, a little family-run Italian joint down the street, and get either a muffin or a scone once a week for a change. Well, they've been on holiday and have been closed since the end of December. Last week I just ate breakfast at home every day, but today I really wanted a muffin or scone.
I drove down the street and passed Coffeeworks. Great place, but usually difficult to park, so I pass by. I pass Starbucks, but I don't really do the 'bucks, so I keep driving. I end up at the Co-op. Now, they have about three bakeries that supply their goodies. Bennet's Bakery makes such incredible yumminess that I feel guilty eating them, so I skipped those. I didn't see the Old Soul Bakery stuff until I'd already chosen a mixed-berry oat bran muffin from something like Godin's bakery. I got into the car, broke off a bite of muffin, and hoped desperately that something bad had happened to that bite. If it had, it had also happened to all of them. It was dry, baking-powdery, and sucked the moisture out of my mouth like an underripe persimmon. (Ever had that happen? Not twice, I bet.)
I decided that I DESPERATELY needed something besides the water I pack in every day to wash the horror out o fmy mouth. At this point, I am on the freeway, but I am about to get to Florin Road. Florin Road is one of the few places in Sacramento that is not covered in Starbuckses. (For this, I would have gone to Starbucks. It was an emergency.) It is, however, littered with gas stations and fast food outlets. But how does one know which places have good coffee? I never go to these places, so I am at a loss as to where to get something decent. Finally, I am almost at school, but I haven't given up.
I pull into the Toyota dealership and park. I walk inside and head to the customer lounge. I use their weird machine for a quarter (I even have to ask the guy at the service desk for change) and get a "mocha" in a styrofoam cup. Good enough. I walk back to my car without anyone trying to sell me a car (although someone did ask if I was waiting for the shuttle) and drive across the street to my school.
(And on the off chance that my secret name of "Horticulturalist High" had you stumped, now you know where I work.)
Please, Milazzo people, come back!!
Monday, January 14, 2008
Immersed in pop culture AND a smartass
Last week during our childbirth class, a woman was asked what she thought about when she thought of birth, and she answered "TV shows like A Baby Story." I was next, and I answered that I thought of TV too, but I thought of the episode of M*A*S*H* when the Korean woman gives birth. Yeah, I'm a jackass. Incidentally, that episode came on the Hallmark channel tonight.
Then last Thursday I had my late pregnancy class. For some reason, in the same way that nurses often refer to "Doctor" instead of "the doctor" (as in "Doctor will be in in a moment"), the health educator doesn't use an article in front of "baby." "Keep track of how many times baby kicks." "Then baby will be given the Apgar scores." Well, to me, that sounds like a proper noun, like "Baby." So I get the PERFECT opportunity, and I let it go. She was saying "After delivery, they'll take Baby to the corner of the room to clean her up..." and I was thinking "Nobody puts baby in a corner!"* But I didn't say it. I probably already looked like a freak (I was the only one there without a "partner" and I have a nose ring and freaky red hair), so I just let it slide. But come on, that's perfect!
*In case anyone's out of my 20 year old pop culture loop, Patrick Swayze says this about Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Thirtysomething
As of this morning, I am 32 years old. Seems like a good year. Last night Monkeygirl mentioned that now we are all decidedly in our thirties. That 15 years ago, our parents were watching Thirtysomething, and now here we are. Thirtysomething. So far so good, I must say.
In my 20s, I worried about money a lot. I had to scrounge and scrape and cut coupons.
In my 30s, I still worry, but with less reason. I'm certainly not jet-setting, but now if I want some French feta or a hardback book, I just buy it. Or if I get an urge to buy a bunch of surf music on iTunes, whatever.
In my 20s, I started my career. I struggled a lot. I worked at a really difficult school.
Im my 30s, I am still in the same career, but it's gotten a lot easier. I moved to a school that has a reputation as difficult, but in fact it's a really cush job. I used to find teaching rewarding, but intermittently, and they were small rewards. Now the rewards come frequently.
In my 20s, I bought a house in need of a lot of work in a questionable neighborhood.
In my 30s, Sweetie and I bought a house in need of a little work in a great neighborhood.
In my 20s, I got married, too young, to someone unsuitable.
In my 30s (okay, in my very late 20s), I got married to someone who is perfect for me.
In my 20s, I spent a lot of time wanting children and wondering if I would ever get there.
In my 30s, I spent a year and a half VERY, VERY worried that I never would, but now Zadie is on her way. (I found out 6 months ago today, on July 13th.)
I'm not saaying my 20s were a suck-fest. They certainly weren't. And it's obvious that a lot of what I did in my 20s facilitated my life now. We wouldn't have been able to afford this house if I hadn't bought the first one. I wouldn't know what I wanted out of marriage and a partner now if I hadn't done it wrong first. I wouldn't have this career at all if I hadn't worked so hard for it last decade.
Last night's birthday celebration was a good example of how life has changed, but in a good way. A birthday party in my 20s might have meant that I called 20 people and all those people brought their friends and cousins and we would have drunk a lot and people would have puked in the bushes and sticky booze would have been spilled on the floor and my cat would have gotten out and drunk people would have gone into the street yelling her name at 2am and by 3 I'd be begging people to just go to sleep or go home, and by four I and my friends would all have things to regret.
Last night, I had sent an evite to four people I really wanted to see. They all came over and we ate cupcakes and talked and watched a few highlights from "Flight of the Conchords," and then everyone went home and the only mess is that there are a few cupcakes left over.
Now, someone in their early twenties (including me back then) would probably see that as hopelessly lame and boring, but it is EXACTLY what I wanted. I just wanted to spend time with the people I really cared about.
Thank you, Monkeygirl. This is the latest in a string of who-knows-how-many birthdays that she has reminded me to celebrate and provided dessert for. I'm not anti-birthday, but I have no problem spending it doing... nothing. But every year she reminds me to "celebrate myself and sing myself." She rules for always thinking I deserve it.
In my 20s, I worried about money a lot. I had to scrounge and scrape and cut coupons.
In my 30s, I still worry, but with less reason. I'm certainly not jet-setting, but now if I want some French feta or a hardback book, I just buy it. Or if I get an urge to buy a bunch of surf music on iTunes, whatever.
In my 20s, I started my career. I struggled a lot. I worked at a really difficult school.
Im my 30s, I am still in the same career, but it's gotten a lot easier. I moved to a school that has a reputation as difficult, but in fact it's a really cush job. I used to find teaching rewarding, but intermittently, and they were small rewards. Now the rewards come frequently.
In my 20s, I bought a house in need of a lot of work in a questionable neighborhood.
In my 30s, Sweetie and I bought a house in need of a little work in a great neighborhood.
In my 20s, I got married, too young, to someone unsuitable.
In my 30s (okay, in my very late 20s), I got married to someone who is perfect for me.
In my 20s, I spent a lot of time wanting children and wondering if I would ever get there.
In my 30s, I spent a year and a half VERY, VERY worried that I never would, but now Zadie is on her way. (I found out 6 months ago today, on July 13th.)
I'm not saaying my 20s were a suck-fest. They certainly weren't. And it's obvious that a lot of what I did in my 20s facilitated my life now. We wouldn't have been able to afford this house if I hadn't bought the first one. I wouldn't know what I wanted out of marriage and a partner now if I hadn't done it wrong first. I wouldn't have this career at all if I hadn't worked so hard for it last decade.
Last night's birthday celebration was a good example of how life has changed, but in a good way. A birthday party in my 20s might have meant that I called 20 people and all those people brought their friends and cousins and we would have drunk a lot and people would have puked in the bushes and sticky booze would have been spilled on the floor and my cat would have gotten out and drunk people would have gone into the street yelling her name at 2am and by 3 I'd be begging people to just go to sleep or go home, and by four I and my friends would all have things to regret.
Last night, I had sent an evite to four people I really wanted to see. They all came over and we ate cupcakes and talked and watched a few highlights from "Flight of the Conchords," and then everyone went home and the only mess is that there are a few cupcakes left over.
Now, someone in their early twenties (including me back then) would probably see that as hopelessly lame and boring, but it is EXACTLY what I wanted. I just wanted to spend time with the people I really cared about.
Thank you, Monkeygirl. This is the latest in a string of who-knows-how-many birthdays that she has reminded me to celebrate and provided dessert for. I'm not anti-birthday, but I have no problem spending it doing... nothing. But every year she reminds me to "celebrate myself and sing myself." She rules for always thinking I deserve it.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Better
Okay, I realize I've made a couple angst-y posts lately, so I thought I'd update. I'm feeling better today.
First, my mom read my oh-my-god-I-don't-have-time-to-do-anything post and took over and made some phone calls for me. Yay Mom!
Second, I have taken some deep breaths over the labor and delivery thing. One way or another, we walk out of there with a baby, and it's just one day (most likely) of our lives and her life. An important one, certainly, but just one day.
And third, there are multiple cake opportunities in my near future! How can you be stressed or unhappy when there is guaranteed dessert both tonight and tomorrow night? I sent out an evite to my few nearest and dearest friends, and they all responded that they're coming by! There are long-term cake opportunites as well, including two baby showers. The future's so bright, I've gotta wear pants with an elastic waistband.
First, my mom read my oh-my-god-I-don't-have-time-to-do-anything post and took over and made some phone calls for me. Yay Mom!
Second, I have taken some deep breaths over the labor and delivery thing. One way or another, we walk out of there with a baby, and it's just one day (most likely) of our lives and her life. An important one, certainly, but just one day.
And third, there are multiple cake opportunities in my near future! How can you be stressed or unhappy when there is guaranteed dessert both tonight and tomorrow night? I sent out an evite to my few nearest and dearest friends, and they all responded that they're coming by! There are long-term cake opportunites as well, including two baby showers. The future's so bright, I've gotta wear pants with an elastic waistband.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
It's my party and I'll cry if I want to
Okay, I haven't been super-emotional pregnant chick, but I cried tonight. I went to my late pregnancy class which was pretty much an overview of when you're supposed to go in to labor and delivery, then a tour of the facility.
The tour sucked. It made me so sad. First we passed the family waiting room, which looked like one of Dante's circles of hell. It was crowded, fairly dirty, small, and loud (there was a kid throwing a tantrum). I already felt bad for my family, but then I got to see where I would be. I go into the triage room first, which we couldn't see because they were full. Then it's into the labor room. There is a room that was maybe 8'x8' and has a bed, a toilet, and a chair. To get to the chair, you have to duck under a cabinet. One to two visitors are allowed in that room at a time, which sucks, because I was planning on having Sweetie, Mom and Monkeygirl all with me. The delivery room was fine, then you go into the recovery room. Have you noticed a lot of moving so far? Me too. Anyway, the recovery room had about 6 beds in it, but you don't stay there long before you go to your own room with the baby. The rooms for new moms were just big enough for two beds with a curtain between and a small office chair. Now, they say they try to give you a room with no roommate if it's possible. That's good. But your partner/husband/whoever has to sleep in the chair.
So now I'm thinking I don't get to have as many people with me as I want, and they'll have to tag team. The place they're tagging out to is Hades. And my dear sweet husband will have to sleep in a chair unless I let him go home, in which case I have to be all alone with the new baby for like twelve hours.
I'm starting to feel a little jealous of my homebirthing friends.
The tour sucked. It made me so sad. First we passed the family waiting room, which looked like one of Dante's circles of hell. It was crowded, fairly dirty, small, and loud (there was a kid throwing a tantrum). I already felt bad for my family, but then I got to see where I would be. I go into the triage room first, which we couldn't see because they were full. Then it's into the labor room. There is a room that was maybe 8'x8' and has a bed, a toilet, and a chair. To get to the chair, you have to duck under a cabinet. One to two visitors are allowed in that room at a time, which sucks, because I was planning on having Sweetie, Mom and Monkeygirl all with me. The delivery room was fine, then you go into the recovery room. Have you noticed a lot of moving so far? Me too. Anyway, the recovery room had about 6 beds in it, but you don't stay there long before you go to your own room with the baby. The rooms for new moms were just big enough for two beds with a curtain between and a small office chair. Now, they say they try to give you a room with no roommate if it's possible. That's good. But your partner/husband/whoever has to sleep in the chair.
So now I'm thinking I don't get to have as many people with me as I want, and they'll have to tag team. The place they're tagging out to is Hades. And my dear sweet husband will have to sleep in a chair unless I let him go home, in which case I have to be all alone with the new baby for like twelve hours.
I'm starting to feel a little jealous of my homebirthing friends.
Today
Is 30 weeks. I am officially 75% done being pregnant (30 weeks out of 40). There are ten weeks left to go. I'm kind of tripping out! I can't believe she's going to be here so soon!
In the next ten weeks, I have to attend 4 more childbirth classes, a late pregnancy class, and a newborn care class. I have two showers. I have a date with my online parenting forum friends. I have a family cake date for my and my cousin's birthday. I have a birthday dinner with my dad. I have three more (at least) doctor's appointments. I have to sell snacks at three basketball games (or at least supervise the students doing so). And I have to arrange for a sub and make lesson plans for about 11 weeks for four different classes.
No pressure.
I keep thinking that I need a haircut and an eyebrow wax, and that it would be awfully nice to get a massage and go to the chiropractor again, but I'm not sure I see any of that happening. Never mind that I was supposed to go to ballet last night and got kept way late at school by a student, so now I have ANOTHER ballet makeup (which makes something like 8).
In the next ten weeks, I have to attend 4 more childbirth classes, a late pregnancy class, and a newborn care class. I have two showers. I have a date with my online parenting forum friends. I have a family cake date for my and my cousin's birthday. I have a birthday dinner with my dad. I have three more (at least) doctor's appointments. I have to sell snacks at three basketball games (or at least supervise the students doing so). And I have to arrange for a sub and make lesson plans for about 11 weeks for four different classes.
No pressure.
I keep thinking that I need a haircut and an eyebrow wax, and that it would be awfully nice to get a massage and go to the chiropractor again, but I'm not sure I see any of that happening. Never mind that I was supposed to go to ballet last night and got kept way late at school by a student, so now I have ANOTHER ballet makeup (which makes something like 8).
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Pregnancy class 1
Last night was our first pregnancy class. It was really full, with something like 15 couples. It was mighty white -- we and one other couple were the only ones representin' ethnicity. There was also one woman who had used a donor and had a friend as her coach, and a know-it-all and the gentleman who proclaimed that he was her "friend... not partner!" I don't know whether he thought he might be picking up chicks there or what, but it made me laugh.
It was pretty basic -- we all went around and introduced ourselves. We were asked what we thought of when we thought of birth, and Sweetie mentioned that what he thought of was a terrifying video he watched in high school called "The Miracle of Life." After he broke that ice, a bunch of the other male partners were like "I saw that video too!" They all looked like they were having PTSD flashbacks. Apparently, the woman wasn't up to current grooming standards, and the placenta was delivered with no warning after the baby was born and everyone thought it was over. Like in a horror movie when the hero is standing over the "corpse" of the bad guy and the corpse suddenly grabs the hero's ankle.
Then we talked a little about fear -- what our fears were. It was funny, because everyone had been like "Oh, when I think of birth, I think of a miracle. I think of a life-changing event." It wasn't until the instructor was like "Well, does anyone have any fears?" that the truth came out. This one girl across from me had like four fears that she shared, and she wore the expression that the sandwich is wearing for most of the class. I was surprised to learn how many women were planning to have an epidural. Most of them were like "I don't want to have any pain -- I want the epidural when I get there." I mean, that's cool, no judgment from me, but I just was surprised.
I was relieved to learn that a lot of the things I was concerned about (docs pressuring for interventions, episiotomies) are, according to the instructor anyway, not on Kaiser's to-do list. In fact, their C-section rate is much lower than the country's average.
We looked at some anatomy illustrations, then watched her shove a fake baby through a fake pelvis in a variety of ways. At one point, she was showing us that the baby can't get through the pelvis without the pelvis opening up a bit. She demonstrated this by banging the baby's head repeatedly against the bone. "See?" POUND POUND POUND. "In this position the baby can't get through." POUND POUND. BANG.
Finally we watched a video (I told Sweetie he could take his glasses off, but he watched the whole thing!), then did a relaxation exercise on the floor.
I have to say, so far there's nothing much I didn't know, but I was glad to be there, be taking the class, and have Sweetie there cracking jokes sotto voce. I'll let you know as the class progresses if there's anything interesting.
It was pretty basic -- we all went around and introduced ourselves. We were asked what we thought of when we thought of birth, and Sweetie mentioned that what he thought of was a terrifying video he watched in high school called "The Miracle of Life." After he broke that ice, a bunch of the other male partners were like "I saw that video too!" They all looked like they were having PTSD flashbacks. Apparently, the woman wasn't up to current grooming standards, and the placenta was delivered with no warning after the baby was born and everyone thought it was over. Like in a horror movie when the hero is standing over the "corpse" of the bad guy and the corpse suddenly grabs the hero's ankle.
Then we talked a little about fear -- what our fears were. It was funny, because everyone had been like "Oh, when I think of birth, I think of a miracle. I think of a life-changing event." It wasn't until the instructor was like "Well, does anyone have any fears?" that the truth came out. This one girl across from me had like four fears that she shared, and she wore the expression that the sandwich is wearing for most of the class. I was surprised to learn how many women were planning to have an epidural. Most of them were like "I don't want to have any pain -- I want the epidural when I get there." I mean, that's cool, no judgment from me, but I just was surprised.
I was relieved to learn that a lot of the things I was concerned about (docs pressuring for interventions, episiotomies) are, according to the instructor anyway, not on Kaiser's to-do list. In fact, their C-section rate is much lower than the country's average.
We looked at some anatomy illustrations, then watched her shove a fake baby through a fake pelvis in a variety of ways. At one point, she was showing us that the baby can't get through the pelvis without the pelvis opening up a bit. She demonstrated this by banging the baby's head repeatedly against the bone. "See?" POUND POUND POUND. "In this position the baby can't get through." POUND POUND. BANG.
Finally we watched a video (I told Sweetie he could take his glasses off, but he watched the whole thing!), then did a relaxation exercise on the floor.
I have to say, so far there's nothing much I didn't know, but I was glad to be there, be taking the class, and have Sweetie there cracking jokes sotto voce. I'll let you know as the class progresses if there's anything interesting.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Storms, stuff
Well, I've been using the last several days to do nothing at all. Tomorrow the vacation is over and I have to go back to work, so I've been dedicated to slacking and reading books. I think you can see what I've been reading here.
We had a crazy storm, and all my Sacramento blogging friends have already written about it, but I just want to say two things. First, we were apparently 5 mph of windspeed short of a hurricane. Second, when Sweetie and I were driving down the street, I said "Man, this is the kind of storm that, tomorrow morning, they'll be showing pictures of cars crushed by tree branches in the paper!" We drove less than two blocks and saw... a car crushed by a tree branch. It was certainly not alone, and there were houses that suffered major damage, too. We were very lucky -- our Christmas tree rolled down the street twice (it is now lashed to the porch railing), and our rain gutters almost came down, but the Man Of The House (MOTH) went out during a break in the weather and climbed up on a ladder and nailed them back in!
Incidentally, Sweetie wanted me to mention that in the Monterey pictures, HE took the one out the window of the Jabberwock, HE took the one of us kissing, and the mural of Alice and the brothers Dee and Dum is clearly set along Ocean View Drive in Pacific Grove. It was, in fact, so recognizable that I didn't think to mention it, but if you haven't been, now you know.
We had a crazy storm, and all my Sacramento blogging friends have already written about it, but I just want to say two things. First, we were apparently 5 mph of windspeed short of a hurricane. Second, when Sweetie and I were driving down the street, I said "Man, this is the kind of storm that, tomorrow morning, they'll be showing pictures of cars crushed by tree branches in the paper!" We drove less than two blocks and saw... a car crushed by a tree branch. It was certainly not alone, and there were houses that suffered major damage, too. We were very lucky -- our Christmas tree rolled down the street twice (it is now lashed to the porch railing), and our rain gutters almost came down, but the Man Of The House (MOTH) went out during a break in the weather and climbed up on a ladder and nailed them back in!
Incidentally, Sweetie wanted me to mention that in the Monterey pictures, HE took the one out the window of the Jabberwock, HE took the one of us kissing, and the mural of Alice and the brothers Dee and Dum is clearly set along Ocean View Drive in Pacific Grove. It was, in fact, so recognizable that I didn't think to mention it, but if you haven't been, now you know.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
What pregnancy was like in my head
Gidget Goes Maternity
First of all, in my head I was always pregnant during summertime. There was lots of beach time, in which I wore a bikini because I was so cute with my belly bump. I lounged poolside. I drank virgin versions of the fruity girl drinks I liked. I went to the Heritage festival and danced with my belly showing in a halter top. I was going to swim!
In reality, I am pregnant in the dead of winter, which is just fine. I don't get overheated, and best of all I get ample time off with the baby before I have to return to work. The only virgin drink I've had was a margarita, and it was miserable. My belly shows in ANY top, and the Heritage Festival is long gone. I tried swimming, and frankly it made me feel creepy. I was floating, but she was hanging there in the water underneath me. She was still heavy, but floating and heavy. I was much less aerodynamic than usual.
Like Sonic Youth, but punker
Yeah, I was gonna rock ass like Kim Gordon while pregnant. I even imagined the Gynas helping me create a belly koozy out of egg crate foam to shield the Peapod from the decibels.
The Gynas are long gone, and between long days at work, numerous doctor's appointments, backaches... I haven't even jammed much with my uncle and the terrible drummer. And where, in my fantasies, did I imagine my bass would rest?
And with ululation
I always planned to take belly dancing classes while pregnant. I was going to be doing my fertile goddess jingly dance of middle eastern birth preparation.
I already pay for ballet and a gym and underuse both. It hurts my back to do some stuff. My husband is freaked out by belly dancers (seriously, like some people are freaked out by clowns). It's just not going to happen.
Hot Springs Hippie
I was sure that I'd spend weekends during my pregnancy at Harbin Hot Springs. I would drink steamed soy milk beverages and read books in the heart pool. My big, beautiful, pregnant body would soak up the sunshine.
It's cold, Harbin costs money, it's a long drive (especially for someone who has to pee every five minutes), I have a lot of stuff going on on the weekends, and frankly, I really like being home with my husband.
The Pregnant Woman's Guide to Getting Outdoors
I saw this book two days ago and laughed. In my head, I was pregnant and hiking, pregnant at Yosemite, pregnant and camping...
This weekend, I waddled 1.19 miles (I checked on Mapquest) to the beach and 1.19 miles back, and had to stop and sit on a bench approximately four times.
First of all, in my head I was always pregnant during summertime. There was lots of beach time, in which I wore a bikini because I was so cute with my belly bump. I lounged poolside. I drank virgin versions of the fruity girl drinks I liked. I went to the Heritage festival and danced with my belly showing in a halter top. I was going to swim!
In reality, I am pregnant in the dead of winter, which is just fine. I don't get overheated, and best of all I get ample time off with the baby before I have to return to work. The only virgin drink I've had was a margarita, and it was miserable. My belly shows in ANY top, and the Heritage Festival is long gone. I tried swimming, and frankly it made me feel creepy. I was floating, but she was hanging there in the water underneath me. She was still heavy, but floating and heavy. I was much less aerodynamic than usual.
Like Sonic Youth, but punker
Yeah, I was gonna rock ass like Kim Gordon while pregnant. I even imagined the Gynas helping me create a belly koozy out of egg crate foam to shield the Peapod from the decibels.
The Gynas are long gone, and between long days at work, numerous doctor's appointments, backaches... I haven't even jammed much with my uncle and the terrible drummer. And where, in my fantasies, did I imagine my bass would rest?
And with ululation
I always planned to take belly dancing classes while pregnant. I was going to be doing my fertile goddess jingly dance of middle eastern birth preparation.
I already pay for ballet and a gym and underuse both. It hurts my back to do some stuff. My husband is freaked out by belly dancers (seriously, like some people are freaked out by clowns). It's just not going to happen.
Hot Springs Hippie
I was sure that I'd spend weekends during my pregnancy at Harbin Hot Springs. I would drink steamed soy milk beverages and read books in the heart pool. My big, beautiful, pregnant body would soak up the sunshine.
It's cold, Harbin costs money, it's a long drive (especially for someone who has to pee every five minutes), I have a lot of stuff going on on the weekends, and frankly, I really like being home with my husband.
The Pregnant Woman's Guide to Getting Outdoors
I saw this book two days ago and laughed. In my head, I was pregnant and hiking, pregnant at Yosemite, pregnant and camping...
This weekend, I waddled 1.19 miles (I checked on Mapquest) to the beach and 1.19 miles back, and had to stop and sit on a bench approximately four times.
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