Lost and Found

Sorry about the two-week break in writing. I've been in my head lately and needed to kind of zone in and away. And then I got sucked into My Space. But that's another story altogether.

The most important happening, and the one that has turned into a catalyst of sorts, is that I have been found. I didn't even know I was lost. In the process of being found, I have made a new friend from an old one and discovered that I might not be as alone in the world as I (sometimes) like to think I am.

Background...(It's a writer's convention that in this case must be followed. Jumping in epic style "in the middle" would just make no sense. It becomes important to the story as a whole, I promise)...I spent the first 1/3 of my life living a semi-gypsy lifestyle. My dad wasn't military; he worked for Bechtel, which is a very large engineering/construction firm. Perhaps you've heard of them? No? They were getting contracts in the Middle East before Halliburton was a household name...Fortunately; Dad worked the domestic side of things. He was a project management accountant. He would be sent to new sites across the United States to help manage the army of construction, union, and contract workers needed to build VERY LARGE THINGS.

The average time on a job was two years. About every two years, from the time I was 2 until I turned 9, my family up and moved to a new place. A new state. Somewhere in the Mid-West. I have three siblings. None of us were born in the same state. I was talking to my mom the other day, and she mentioned how annoying it was to have delivered under four different OB's...she knew what was going to happen (very fast, easy births...lucky...no wonder she had four of us) but each new doctor wouldn't believe her until the baby popped out hours ahead of when the ob said it would. But I digress...

When I was about 5 we landed in Robinson IL. I remember the house, it was one of my favorites...two stories, fireplace, big living room and a bedroom with a view of the street below. I found a ceramic miniature pig toy that the previous owner had lost. I took it to be some kind of omen and the pig was my talisman for a while. The street, in my mind's eye, was idyllic. It was the kind of dreamy, Mid-West town street with large trees and wide lanes that Hollywood would film on. I had a tricycle there...I think...it was a lovely place to be. I had a baby brother at the time. But he was 1 at the most. I ruled the roost and would begin my school career at Lincoln Elementary in the fall.

Best of all, there were playmates on our street. Right across the street lived the girl who would be my best friend for my short stay: Dea. We fell into a natural little girl friendship. She was a year younger than I, but sharp as a tack and could keep up with any and all of my mental imaginations...often beating my ideas out with her own. What I remember best are the games of dress-up we used to play and the long intricate games of "Heidi". She had the best "Clara chair" and we would argue over who got to be the bossy invalid that Heidi, the good girl, eventually saves from herself. Dea would win; by virtue that it was her chair after all...being the bossy one is always the most fun.

I ran away to live with Dea once when my mom wouldn't let me have my own way. We watched Strawberry Shortcake and by the time it was over, I was ready to go home. The shortest running away in history, but also the most fun. Speaking of Strawberry Shortcake...Dea saved the day at my 6th birthday party. She was the only girl who had the very rare "Orange Blossom" doll that would complete the table setting at my themed party. She very graciously loaned me the doll. That was the best party of my childhood. My dad even dressed up as the Purple Pie man of Porcupine Peak. I couldn't get mom to agree to dress as Sour Grapes, the female "bad guy", but having the Pie man there was treat enough.

I remember hunting fireflies in her back yard on warm summer nights.

I remember she had much older siblings, and how cool I thought that was, being that baby brothers aren't that interesting.

For some reason I also have a memory of her tied in with an eight-track player and tapes...but my memory is sketchy at best. That is my problem.

You see, I left. And part of my coping with leaving is to forget. I have only scattered memories of my early childhood...like most children. I thought I was normal in this respect. I have better memories than my siblings. Of course, I am older than they are. But over time...my pictures of Dea faded in to the other places I was. I have one photograph of us together, but I can hardly remember the little girl I was...much less the girl she was. Across the years, I would think of her. I asked mom about how to find people, if I could go back to Robinson to look for her one day. I foolishly thought I could send a letter to our old address and ask the new owners to deliver it to "Dea across the street"...I couldn't even remember her full name anymore. Our last move, from Michigan to California, all but erased my life in the Mid-West. We had to pack light, and any trace I might still have had of Dea was gone. Except for that one photograph.

It was rather a surprise when I checked my news list-group-filler e-mail box a couple of weeks ago and found a message from Reunion.com. From Dea. How many Dea's are there in the world...who would even know to look for me? Stunned, I replied that I was indeed the one and only Valerie Kesweder (maiden name folks...distinctive...yes...memorable, I didn't think so...) and how the heck was she after 20+ years?

So, the reunion of a friendship began. If by some weird chance my family had stayed in Robinson...I believe Dea and I would have stayed friends. She is still wicked sharp...funny...imaginative. She's a writer. A wife...a military wife at that. A mother of two young boys. An independent thinker. A painted and pierced lady. A home baker with a new food processor. A computer junkie. A graphic designer. A thinker. A friend. And now she is the traveling gypsy and I am the spot-bound girl. She didn't leave that same street until college...and has now lived across the US.

I am scared and thrilled by this new friendship in my life. Scared by the immediacy and the connection I am feeling across years with nothing but notes and pictures to fill the gaps. Thrilled, because connection is something I crave, but something I am only just now learning to nurture. So far, it's e-mail and My Space and the occasional on-line chat...I am happy with that. It's amazing to me to have been found by a girl I loved as a child and begin to understand, and perhaps love, the women we have both become.

Spring Break! Woo-Hoo?

I woke up this morning, well, it was about three AM when this realization hit me, to the fact that the sniffles I have been fighting have turned into a full-blown cold. It was bound to happen sometime. I got the kind of achy-almost sick thing back in December, but nothing came of it. Spring is usually worse for me. There are so many more hacking and coughing students packed into too hot rooms with too cold temperatures outside for it to not happen. So, here I am on the cusp of Spring Break (one week...no classes...three papers and catch up work to do...) hacking away with the stuffed up runny nose. Great. I check the "What to Expect..." pregnancy Bible and yes, what I have is progressing as a normal cold. What I can do about it? Sleep, eat healthy, drink extra fluids (I'm already drinking at least 64 oz a day!) and have some chicken soup. If it doesn't clear up within the week, call the doctor for more suggestions. Thanks.

But, it is the Friday before Spring Break...the last day of classes for me and I didn't want to ditch out (again) on yoga. So...I made poor John rush through his morning, I hustled out the door and scrambled to the gym only to find the class locked out of the yoga room. After about five minutes of waiting the PE admin announced that class was canceled. This must be some kind of Karmic payback for missing class when I really wasn't sick...just lazy.

Two hours to kill before astronomy.

Astronomy was fine...except for the sniffling and coughing on my part. Not the best frame of mind to learn about HII clouds and H2 molecules and that space is not empty. It's like the ocean...only the water that fills everything in at different temperatures and pressures is this gas and dust stuff...Inter-Stellar Matter...yes, very interesting stuff.

In any case, I'm home now and happy to be here. I need to run the dishes from last nights dinner with Miss V. That was so much fun! We hadn't had a good catch-up chat since December. She brought a divine ruhbabrd tart from the restaurant where she works...super yum. I made sea food paella and brought out the last bottle of Spanish wine. John and Miss V enjoyed that..although I admit to having half a glass with dinner...it was the last bottle! Dinners are always nice, I only wish I was feeling better.

I plan on taking the weekend slow. I already canceled some tentative plans I had with my Mom...which is sad...but my goal tomorrow is to sleep in and rest and run some small errands with John. Then sleep some more. I know, the exciting life I lead, but in the end it will make me feel a whole bunch better. So I can tackle all those papers next week.

You've Waited so Long forThis...

Yes folks, I ran into the older brother of the infamous Boom Box Girl (check the October 05 archives as I don't know how to link ya'll there from here) from San Jose State. I was waiting at the Santa Clara Light Rail station...note: En-route to this very station yesterday the following conversation between two grad student-looking guys was overheard by yours truly-"Yeah, Santa Clara is closer to where I'm going, but I won't get off there, it's just so, you know, ghetto." It is a bit downtown if you know what I mean, but geeez, I don't have any problems walking to campus from there, and I'm six and a half months pregnant. Get a grip guys, your college is the middle of a freakin' city....where was I?

Right, waiting at the light rail station when the sound of really loud Latin pop music began to drown out the construction noise. Not a small feat, the construction is involving jack hammers right now. And yet, the Latin pop music was winning the battle of the airwaves. I had to look to see who could be making such a distinct impression upon my day. Who should appear but a very large Latino man in full leather biker gear riding a very big very, very, very, yellow (think Tweety bird yellow) three-wheeled motorcycle. The entire back side of the motorcycle over the two back wheels was one large casing for speakers. His head was well below the speaker line, making the perfect rolling sound stage. He cruised around the block at least two times before my train got there. You go biker man.

Other than that, I have a cold and am beginning to feel pretty miserable. Which figures, because Spring Break is next week. I have at least two papers to write, and if I was a good girl, I'd get four done, plus small writings I'm behind on. As it is, I hope to feel better and sew more baby stuff. I ordered rings today to make myself a simple sling carrier. If I get wacky, I may try to make a padded pouch carrier as well. Go mama.

And this is what I've made you all wait so long to read about. Ha. I love blogging.

You Might Have Forgotten

I am really still in school and doing things not related to getting ready to have a child. Don't laugh, really I am. Today was a big day in school for me, I had my first mid-term and I got back my first paper in career writing. I can't complain about either, really.

It was miserable today. Weather wise. It was pouring rain when I had to leave for class which is not a great motivator. Neither was the fact that I'd been bopping around in the house in pj's all morning enjoying the quiet house. Or the fact that I had to go take a test. I always hate the first test of the semester in any class, and I really hate it when we have only two tests that count for a whole lot of grade. And of course I had to go early and buy a blue book. For some reason, the only times I've been in the student store to purchase supplies...no matter what...it's been raining. No kidding. Last semester too. Weird.

So, I get to class mildly damp and settle in for one last review of my notes. I'm glad I got there early, because it was a full house. As my teacher walked in she commented: "Boy, there must be a test or something today, because the classroom hasn't been this full since the first day." The test, all in all wasn't too bad...but we'll see if I write enough on the passages for full credit. It took me the entire period to finish. That hasn't happened in a long time. I was rushing at the end to write down the last few definitions. Note to self: I think I'll start with the definitions first next time, and spend less time reviewing the test as a whole.

Next stop was the bathroom. But you didn't need to know that.

Then on to my career writing class to pick up my paper. I didn't have to attend class today, the Newsletter team is editing, and I'm on the Writing Life team...so we were free to stay away. I did want my paper, and because my two classes are in the same building, and this one is on my way out even, it was silly not to go. Did I mention that I really wanted to see my paper?

This assignment was to interview a writer of our choosing and write a profile of them. It's been ages since I've done a formal interview. I chose to write on a fellow blogger and freelance writer: Manic Mom. Check her site out at http://www.manicmommy.blogspot.com. The interview was great fun and I enjoyed the write up. Even the peer review process was helpful. Our professor expects us to come to class having already read and commented on our group's papers. This allows us real time to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of each individual paper. It was a new experience, and one I actually learned from. I think my paper got better from the suggestions. Not perfect, but better.

When all was said and done, I got a B+ which I am very pleased with. Our professor is notorious for being a very tough grader. She made some very good points about where my paper "lost it" and if I made her corrections, it would be an even better piece. But, woo-hoo for a solid start in her class. She also suggested I write a piece for The Writing Life about freelance writing. I think I will, from my research last semester and this interview, I think I could do a pretty good job with it. Good things all around. I feel pretty good about the class so far, and if I can maintain a solid B I will feel as though I have done a good job. I have set the goal of no punctuation errors for my next piece of writing...sloppy sloppy girl that I am. ;)

Now...I really must get back to work on my paper about the subtle Christian themes that run through selected Old and Middle English works. Blah. Sometimes it's not all that much fun to be a writer.

Doula-Waah-Ditty-Ditty-Dum-Ditty-Doo

I just finished reading "The Official Lamaze Guide to Giving Birth with Confidence". My favorite analogy was the "new shoe blister pain aversion". I can relate to that, having worn wildly inappropriate shoes to most functions for the greater part of my life. I am nursing blisters right now from an extended no-sock excursion two weeks ago. Hmm...so labor as a painful blister you must work through, 'cause you chose to wear those lovely shoes, after all. Yeah, I can deal with that.

Somehow, I imagine labor will be slightly more painful than a blister. And those nights of wildly inappropriate shoe wearing I usually had some kind of pain killer going on: lots of drinks.

As I head into the final push (forgive my pun) of pregnancy, the labor process has been on my mind. I am not expecting to avoid pain, but I would like to avoid unnecessary discomfort. The Lamaze book (a philosophy, not just a breathing method anymore!) gave me much to think about. I had to create some serious mental filters while reading to avoid the heavy handed propaganda against the medical community, but with this accomplished I got some good advice and some real food for thought. One avenue I am going to explore that I hadn't considered before is to hire a professional labor support person, otherwise known as a doula.

The term "doula" comes from the Greeks, and was the most trusted female member of a lady's house. She was the personal support for the woman of the house, and today doulas are the personal support for a laboring woman. They offer emotional support all the way through labor and delivery, and are trained in relaxation techniques as well as various labor and birthing positions. They have attend many, many births, and know what to expect. They do not offer medical advice, but can remind you of your options, and guide you to ask questions to determine the best course of action for your birth. Women who labor with doulas often don't need medical intervention or drugs to make it through labor. While I'm not against painkillers, I would like to avoid as many interventions as possible. Just to see if I can do it.

Another reason I'm thinking of having a doula with me, is I like the idea of someone impartial being around during the birthing process. I know John will be with me, but he's going to be as emotionally attached to the situation as I am. It would be nice to have someone who can help both of us remain calm and focused. It takes the pressure off both of us to be at top performance, and I think will allow us to relax and remain a bit calmer during the storm.

The trouble I'm running into now is how to find a doula. Because I'm not willing to buck the traditional system all together, I am not in a position to easily seek a doula or two out. If I was using a midwife, or going the birth center route, I'm sure I would have one already. As it is, I am using a traditional hospital and a single practice OB as my main birthing team. I've had no luck finding doulas in this area so far, but my search has just begun. The Internet has sadly let me down on this one, unless I want to go to San Francisco or Santa Cruz to deliver this baby. Neither are my first choices, so we'll see what comes up in the good ole South Bay.

I have a few more months to figure things out. Otherwise, it'll just be me and the hubby against the contractions.

Day Trip

I think it was Friday morning, or perhaps the evening before, when Hubby and I decided to "do something" on Saturday. We've been kind of house bound on the weekend as of late...on Monday we had managed to take a nice little hike/walk that got us to feeling like we should do that more often...so my suggestion for the weekend: "Let's hike/walk on Saturday!" thinking we'd come to the same place. His suggestion: "Let's fly to Columbia, have breakfast and hike/walk around there all day!" The winner: His suggestion.

We've also been woefully neglecting the coolness of having a small plane to day trip in. It's not something everyone gets to do, and once the kid gets here we won't be able to pop in and zip around for a day. I don't think they make baby-sized headphones...and who knows if the baby seat will fit in the back of the plane. In any case, the last time I went up in the plane was for a camping trip right before we conceived. So, it's been about six months since I've been flying, and baby never has. ;) Well, at least not with Dad at the controls.

The day dawned beautifully. We were both worried that the Central Valley might be fogged over, and then it would have been a no-go for us. Columbia is a 49'er gold rush town that has a neat historical park with the old buildings and costumed folks and gold panning and all that jazz. The park is a short walk from the airport. Geographically, it's nestled into the Sierra Foothills, a short (less than one hour) flight from San Jose. John checked the weather from home while I cleaned myself up...all clear. He then called around looking for a breakfast spot. The recommendation he received was for a local place called Billy Whisker's. I was feeling skeptical about the name, but decided to look the place over before nixing it. After all...breakfast was the treat, and not the entire reason to go.

Off to the airport we went to get the plane ready. Well, that's John's job; I stand and try to help by untying stuff: like the wings and tail of the plane and putting other stuff away. Once we took off, we could see the air was very hazy below us. Kind of yucky and we weren't able to see much on the ground which is one of the neatest things about small plane flying. You're closer than when flying commercial and the ground looks, well...it's a bird's eye view...I really enjoy looking at the map and picking points out. I like to follow our course and see what's beneath us. The hazy conditions made that much harder.

The flight was really smooth and pleasant, despite the haze. Once we touched down in Columbia, one of four small planes jostling for landing strip space, we were ready for breakfast. It was around 10:30 or 11:00 when we started the short walk into town. Billy Whisker's turned out to be a charming, small, family run breakfast and lunch spot with a bakery. There were about 6 tables, all full, when we got there. One cleared out quickly, the lady speaking to the owner..."I'm leaving now, they can have my table"...as a regular would. Small menu, but when my omelett came out I was in heaven. Everything was fresh and tasty!

Then on to the historic old town. We walked down main street, drooled in the candy store, and then looked for a more hike kind of walk. John pointed out the "trail" to the old schoolhouse and away we went. Columbia is not the place for a serious day hiker. The "trail" was a nice wide dirt path adjacent to the road and running past people's homes. Not wild at all. But still, a nice walk. The schoolhouse has been beautifully restored to it's 1860 glory. It was the first two-story brick schoolhouse in the state. It was also attached to some seamy local politics. Graft and waste are not new to school board trustees, apparently. The building was closed in 1937 because it did not meet the new earthquake standards for school buildings in the state. Children went to school in tents for two years while a more modern school was built across town. Things really don't change much in local politics, do they?

Right next to the schoolhouse was the local cemetery. And I mean right next to. We could see the grave markers from the window behind the teacher's desk. I love old cemeteries and haven't been to one in a long while. I was sorry we didn't get to poke around any while we were in New Orleans...but the state of the city left much to be wondered about, and I didn't want to poke into old bones in a literal way...Columbia's cemetery was begun as a Mason and Odd Fellow plot, then opened to the public as the need for a larger cemetery grew. That happened right as gold prospecting and mining grew in the area. The sheer number of men aged 25-32 in the cemetery is sobering. Many came out to the the Mother Lode to make a fortune and ended up giving their lives in purist of a dream. It was a hard life, no matter how romantic it may sound now. In later years, you'll find the graves of wives who died, in child labor, most likely, and the small graves of children caught by disease. Pioneering is never easy; a fact that the old stones bear witness to.

Columbia is a source of beautiful, almost pure white, marble. That's part of its history. This cemetery has some impressively carved stone, because of the local source. Everyone has a nice marble headstone...either a simple slab or a small monument. I commented how much I loved the old stones, and if I were to have a plot, that's what I'd want to mark it. John was intrigued by the iron fences some chose to mark their resting plots with. He liked the feeling of "this space is mine" the fencing invoked. We also checked out names to see if one would jump out at us. Hearing different combinations of first-middle-last is always fun. Nothing changed our minds concerning baby names, but looking was fun.

We decided to head back into town for one last stroll and a Sarsaparilla soda. MMM...pregnancy has rekindled my love for exotic soda flavors. The Sarsaparilla was a local brew, and we felt good about that. We people watched and drank soda and chatted. It was just very nice to be out in the sunshine and enjoying each other's company. We also popped into the candy store-again-and bought horehound, clove, and sassafras flavored hard candies. Then I drooled over the production area in back. More large copper pots than I've ever seen in one place. If we moved there, I'd have to get a job in the candy store. Sugar work is so much fun!

The flight back was as smooth as the one there, but the haze was made worse by the setting sun. Oh well, it could have been a prettier day to fly, but it couldn't have been nicer. I love the mini-adventures we manage to have. Nothing beats spending time together outside of our "normal" schedules. My goal is to instill a love of mini-adventures into our kids and have loads of fun family time in the not so distant future. It shouldn't take much to have a good day.

Lemon Meringue Day...

...sounds like a nice day? Nope. Tuesday was awful for everyone living in my house. Little sis had her car break down, I was late for class because of a bike race downtown, hubby had work problems. No one was happy. Small frustrations lead up to a general grumpy feeling in the house and that is never good.

My solution? Lemon meringue pie. Sometimes you just have to let go of doctors orders and live life. By ten PM we were full of soft polenta (comfort food if ever there was one) and digging into large slices of fresh pie.

Life was good again.

La League of Extraordinary Women

I went on an adventure this past Wednesday evening. I attended my very first La Leche League meeting. I have been reading "The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding" and felt that it might do me some good to get out and meet real women who subscribe to the philosophy of La Leche.

I was a bit frightened by my recent reading. Like any group that is dedicated to a goal, the rhetoric used can be...umm...off-putting. I'm a convert to their camp, I believe in what they're saying but I am no evangelist and tent revivals don't do it for me. I like calm facts, studies and proven methods. I'm not very new-age when it comes to health and nutrition. Overwrought messages and a thousand plugs for their group and products make me want to dismiss them altogether. I'm guessing I might not be the totally typical reader for this book for a couple of reasons:

First off, there has never been a question on my mind of whether or not to breastfeed. I started practicing on my dolls at the age of five...'cause that's what mommies did with babies. Being little in the Mid-West in a church culture of stay-at-home-moms makes breastfeeding really normal. Everyone did it. I didn't even know there were other options until I hit high school health. So the debate portion of baby feeding has, for the most part, passed me by.

Second, all of my mommy friends in the past 2 years have chosen to breastfeed. I have a huge support group, it's very normal with all the moms I hang with. There is no fear of being looked at weird when we get together for Saturday BBQ's and the kid gets hungry. In fact, I'll be one of two currently breastfeeding moms when our little one makes the scene. Peer pressure to feed otherwise has been left out.

Or perhaps I am the correct reader, but they are also trying to attract a wider audience; attract those women who might be on the fence. Knowing that often it takes a bold statement of purpose to get to folks who otherwise wouldn't listen to the message at all, and knowing that what actually happens with real women vs. what the ideal presented in the book is, I decided that attending a meeting was a good idea for me. After all, the women at the meeting would be real moms, from the area and I could gauge what the group was actually about.

I have the list of meetings being held in the greater South Bay area and decided upon the evening meeting. The day meetings all clashed with my school schedule. I also figured that the evening meetings would bring working moms, and I thought that they might be even more practical in their approach to La Leche and breastfeeding in general. I was nervous at first. The meetings are held in someones home and I didn't call ahead or anything, I just showed up. That was fine. I was also the only one there who didn't actually have a kid breastfeeding. That was also fine. The children there that night ranged from age one month to four years. The moms were a mix across the South Bay ethnicity scale, which I thought was great, and they ranged in age across the childbearing board as well...but the mid thirties was a good median.

The first thing the leader said was that the group was not dedicated to one standard practice, and that not all methods or suggestions worked for all moms. They were there to help you in all you breastfeeding decisions, because the ultimate goal was to raise happy, healthy breastfed children. That put me at ease right away. There have been some suggestions in the book that I was not completely comfortable with, and I was wondering how much I'd have to buy into the philosophy to participate. Why go at all, the astute reader might ask. It has to do with my "learning style". I don't take advice from people I know very well, as well meaning and experienced as they are. I like to figure things out on my own, and I hate to admit ignorance. I really hate to admit ignorance and *gasp* ask questions about subjects I should just KNOW...like breastfeeding. It's a hang up, I deal with it by reading obsessively and having conversations (not inquisitions...my emphasis) with my friends. I thought that in a group of strangers I would be more comfortable sharing my lack of knowledge, and I would gain tips aimed at everyone there and not just suggestions aimed at me.

Wow. Are you guys learning a lot about me or what?

So, I ended up enjoying my experience a great deal. It was nice to hear about problems the moms of younger babies were having and the solutions offered by the group. Everyone helps out with suggestions and shares similar stories. It's nice to know that the process of bonding and feeding the baby is not always an automatic one, and that there can be problems, but those problems can be overcome. I also tend to push my self to be perfect,and if there are problems with my endeavors I crumble and want to just give up. I've gotten way better with this personality glitch over the course of the last couple of years...but my competitive side and my perfectionism side come out at the worst of times. I can just imagine what would happen if I didn't "get" breastfeeding right away. Without the knowledge I gained at that meeting, I would feel like a really bad mom.

I'm going back next month. There are usually four meetings in a series that cover a wide range of breastfeeding topics. I have about three more meetings before the little one arrives so I should be able to hit all the topics by his/her birth. Really, it was a good way to connect with some very nice, very supportive moms out in the community. I could see myself actually calling one of the leaders if problems come up, and heeding her advice.

I am also going to finish the book. Now that I have a better understanding of the women behind it, at least in my area, the tone and direction make more sense. They were all surprised when I shared that all my mommy friends breastfed. I guess it's not a common as I assumed it was. Which surprises me...I know it's good for the baby, but deep down in my darkest heart I'm really looking forward to that extra 500-600 calorie burn a day. Woo-hoo, I hope I have a hungry baby.

How Do Woking Mom's Do It?

I am tired. Bone dead, yawing in class, nodding off tired. I only have about three hours of scheduled time a day, and yet this seems like way too much. I am tired, and I can not sleep. I am tired, and I can not get housework done, I can barely keep my eyes open to read my assignments. I doze on the couch, but when bedtime rolls around, I can not get comfortable and I dream so very strangely that it is not refreshing.

Last night I was dreaming that I needed Hubby to buy a new hard drive for the Myth Box (our television/entertainment system) so that he could download more television for me, so I'd have something to watch when the baby arrives. Well, in my dream, he was on a business trip to Australia, and the only way we had to communicate was through a tele-text type of e-mail that was painfully slow and I had hard time typing on and reading. The situation was getting desperate...I had to have this hard drive. It then dawned on me that I was sleeping, and Hubby was right beside me. I just had to wake up and tell him to buy the hard drive, and all would well and I could sleep again. I woke up enough to debate whether or not I should wake up all the way and then wake up hubby to tell him about making this purchase for me. I ended up waking up all the way, and wondering why television had suddenly become so important to me, before going back to my toss-y turn-y state of "sleep". I did ask Hubby about the hard drive this morning, but the urgency was gone...and I don't think dreams translate as well for those IN them as for those EXPERIENCING them.

So, I'm tired, the dishwasher needs to be run, the living room is slowly moving toward its natural state of chaos and I...I am goofing off on the Internet. Because I can't sleep. At least I did finish my homework. That just required my computer and a bit of will power.

I really don't know how working mom's get through pregnancy. I could in no way handle a 9-5 job right now. My brain seems to miss-fire at every other moment and honestly, I don't know what's happening around me 70% of the time. If my second semester, the so called golden semester, is so trying...the next one is going to be all kinds of feet dragging. Yikes. Maybe I should worry less about going into labor during finals, and concentrate on simply being awake for them.

Yawn.

New Discoveries
for Ari-Belle and Steph

Stepping out of the shower yesterday morning:

I noted my roadmap has changed
Faint silver streams
Long ago formed
End in new reddish rivers
And pools

My gentle slopes, my hills and my valleys
Once soft curves and flat plains
Rise up Mountain like
Bold firm and proud, newly formed
From beneath

The stars of my belly-once bright taunt
And spinning-stretch now to
The point of explosion
Across the dome of my new sky
Supernovas

Waiting for the birth of my new world

New Obsessions

I have extracted a new promise from Hubby. He is to tell me the point I become too "baby weird"...I have the feeling that time is near. I am fluxing between cool and calm and an urgent need to GET STUFF DONE even though I have almost four more months to get said stuff done. Right now I have solved the diaper dilemma. Yes, it was a serious problem. The diaper discussions began before conception (I'm an early planner, usually about stuff that doesn't REALLY matter) when I just needed to know if we were going to go cloth or disposable. Well, it should be no surprise to those who know me that we came down on the cloth side of the equation. Cloth had many advantages: cost effectiveness for the husband and the old-fashioned buck the trend-ness for me. There was also a level of difficulty involved that intrigued me. Not to mention the skin and health benefits for the little one, who is sure to inherit the sensitive skin of both his/her parents.

The next step, and the one that has been interrupting my sleep as of late, is to decide on which cloth diapers to purchase. Yes, there are choices...all-in-ones, fitted, pre-folds with covers, pinned 'traditional' style, covers with snaps or Velcro, polyester, organic cotton, cotton flannel, fleece, wool...each with its own set of pros and cons and ardent followers. Then the sizing problem kicks in. Just how big will the baby be at birth? Do I need "newborn" size...good to 7 lbs, or should I start out with small? The brands don't help much; one brand’s small runs through another brand’s medium. Oh, and when does a kid hit the magical 35 lbs? I had to do some looking at average growth charts, guess how big the kid will be at birth and go from there.

After my size/weight research (if the baby weighs around 8 lbs at birth one can expect him/her to weigh about 16 lbs at six months with steady, predictable amounts between those two points) I have now made a chart of everything I will be buying sometime within the next two months. My chart started out in Word as a simple list and grew into a table and by the time Hubby spied it, he asked why I hadn’t done a spreadsheet in Excel. Yeah…I should have. My chart has the uses for each piece of my “system” (as cloth diaper choices are called once they are combined to the users liking), it lists the sizes, the amounts to buy and the prices from the website I have decided to order this lot from. Hopefully my list will get us through at least the first six months of life. Hopefully, because the upfront cost of cloth can be intimidating. I’m not going for the most expensive all-in-one system that is the closest to using disposables, but neither am I going for the least expensive one-giant-piece-of-cloth diapers either. I’ve chosen a happy medium combination of fitted (shaped diapers with closures, I’m going with Velcro) and pre-folds (pre-folded and sized squares of absorbent cloth to be used with a cover that has self closures) with various cover options for day, night and babysitters.

After the first six months, it should be easier to adjust for the size and shape of the baby and by then the diapers fit for a larger pound range. I am concerned now that I might not have ordered enough…but I am controlling my urge to over-shop until I know exactly what I am getting into. Plus…one of the reasons we’re going cloth is that they are washable. I shouldn’t need to have a stockpile large enough for a baby army.

Now for the first crazy part. Because newborns outgrow some cloth sizes so fast, I have decided to sew my own newborn/small diapers to save on some money. I’m going to sew my own fitted, padded and self-closing diapers. With some help from my mom, of course. I have a pattern, I have a website with suggestions and pictures, I have yards of cute flannel. I now need an afternoon to cut, serge and stitch a cache of about 20 tiny diapers. I have this need to sew diapers. It’s driving me mad. To control the itch until I can get on mom’s Serger, I am contenting myself by making deluxe baby wipes.

This is crazed mom part two. After looking at the actual diapers, it was time to look at the accessories. Why use disposable wipes if you’re using cloth diapers? They all wash together. So, I’m poking around and find the deluxe wipes. Yeah baby. One side is workhorse terry cloth and the other is soft, smooth flannel. The terry side of the wipe is for scrubbing pooh and the flannel side for smoothing the baby bum and quick pee clean-ups. Sounds good to me. Only if I purchased the recommended amount, I’d be dropping another $55.00 on wipes. That didn’t make sense. I can sew. I can sew squares. I can sew squares cheaper than $1.60 a piece. Off to the fabric store I go again to purchase two yards of terry and two of flannel. This is after I did the yield calculations to find out how many wipes I’d get from each yard of fabric. My original thought was I’d need about four yards each. I’m glad I did the numbers, because yesterday I cut 64 beautiful squares of each fabric. I’m getting 1/3 more wipes for half the price. And some work. I am now feeling a bit daunted by the large stack of squares that need to be sewn. But at this point, I am committed. I figure if I can sew 10-15 a night, I’ll be done in a week. That’s fine with me. It should, if nothing else, keep me from starting in on yet another crazed mommy project.

Or I just might find out all about the alternate meaning of “committed”.

Week In Review

Yes, I know it's only Tuesday, but the week I speak of is last week. It was the first week of classes and everyone knows how fun that can be. I did have one new experience, I needed to add a class. Why should that be so hard, one might ask. Well...the answer would be: too many bodies, not enough room. The class I wanted to add was so full that students were sitting on the floor, trying to get in. I sat in the hallway and waited for the end of class to speak with the instructor. She didn't have much hope, but maybe the desperation in my eyes, or my general "I'm a good student and you'll love having me in class" vibe, paid off. I was told to e-mail her and keep showing up. Perhaps she'd find some room for me.

The rest of the scheduled week was great. I'm in a production class for writers. We'll be putting out both a newsletter for the English Department and a compilation of writing for the class. I'm hoping to get some good experience in this class for future freelance work. We'll be covering all kinds of styles from the genre of creative non-fiction. It's exactly what I need. Yeah! My goal for the year that I'm doing "baby life" is to get my feet wet in the freelance world. I'm going to start with trade magazines for the restaurant industry. I've read that trade work is good work, and I would be qualified to write for them. And all you mom's out there...please don't laugh. I know I'm going to be too busy to do anything but baby life, but jeez, I have to have another project on the burner or I don't feel like I'm doing enough. It is just my way.

So...I am excited about this semester. I did get in to the really full class yesterday, so, Yeah! Food and Culture! I am going to the fun class this afternoon to see what project and production assignment I will be concentrating on this semester. Right now I have to finish up a little piece of Beowulf and do some binder organization. Woo-hoo. I love being in school.

Oh! Happy 22 weeks to baby today. Please keep your fingers crossed for a full 40 week pregnancy. I have finals during week 37-38. I know. But I like to live on the edge.

*Note* My mom sent out an e-mail last week encouraging a laundry list of friends, children, and relatives to share an ordinary day with each other. She sees it an an interesting "slice of life" experiment. So far I've enjoyed reading about other's "normal" days. I wrote up mine and decided to share it on my blog, as well as sending it back with my mom's original e-mail. I figure my blog is pretty much the chronicle of my ordinary days...but it doesn't usually distill down entire days. Here it is, and I hope this encourages others to share their ordinary and normal days with me.


My “Normal” Day

I have to begin this by stating that I don’t really have any “normal” days…right now. I am blissfully between semesters and lucky enough to not be working. That leaves me a lot of time to myself, and I am enjoying it. Right before the holidays, I was busy shopping, cleaning, cooking and the like…right now I wish all of my days were like this:

Monday January 23, 2006

I woke up right before the 8:00 AM alarm and spent some time just dozing. When the radio turned on, I just listened to the morning show…the new one on Live 105. It’s not bad, kind of juvenile, but hey, they do play music. The latest song from Matisyahu, the Hasidic reggae star (for some reason I see Mom getting a kick out of that) came on and I thought about how annoying reggae is in the morning. Then I ruminated on how I just really don’t dig reggae music. Give me some good roots rock and ska or rock steady…I’m there. Whatever. Mind you, this is coming from the girl going to Jamaica next year.

Finally managed to pull myself out of bed at 10:00 AM. Yeah. I spent almost two hours listening to the radio, chatting with Hubby, and being a complete slug-a-bed. I am truly going to miss this when my 9:00 AM class starts up Wednesday. I ate breakfast. It was a big bowl of Kashi Good Friends cereal. I have eaten more cereal in the past few months than I have in the past few years. Something about the crunchy sweet-ish cereal and colds milk…yum. Good food for baby, we both like it. Hubby took off for work and little sis made an appearance. She was planning on running errands and taking a placement test at her new school. I needed to: finish cleaning the kitchen and living room from Mom’s fab-o dinner party the night before, wash the tablecloth and napkins, move the table, run to Good Will, clean out my backpack, get school supplies ready and repair some chair cushions on the chairs we are going to be selling on Craig’s List.

All right. So, I began by running the dishwasher. Then sitting down to the Internet to check e-mail. Then I painted my stapler with sparkle nail polish to create a unique sparkly stapler. It’s really cute. I cleaned out the backpack and re-organized my supplies. I have four yellow barrel number two pencils, four back up black ink medium point click-y pens, plus the one Dr. Grip pen that I love to death. I made a note on my school-shopping list to pick up some refills for the Dr. Grip. I have all my multi-colored Sharpies: little keychain ones key chained to the inner backpack pocket and big ones in the hidden zipper pouch in the top of the backpack. I’m not sure exactly why I need Sharpies…I just do. I have my highlighters at the ready; I have my Post-It flag highlighters at the ready…made a note to pick up some plain Post-It flags for noting important pieces of text. One can never have too many flags of various colors. I have my red editing pencils. They might come in handy for my Career Writing class. Then things got really fun. I color-coordinated my notebooks to my pocket folders and labeled them for my classes with the corresponding Sharpie color. Yellow is for Food & Culture, red is Career Writing, green is for English Lit and black for Astronomy. All notebooks and folders have labels with the class name and days of the week I have the class. It makes getting ready and out the door to class in the morning so much eaiser.

And…the morning was burning by now. It was noon…Hubby called to ask me to mail some books off. We have been selling my old textbooks on Half.com. We’ve done really well this semester. In fact, we’ve almost covered the cost of the current semester books by the selling of past semester books. I like it. Back to the computer for me, where I was promptly sidetracked from my mission by blog reading. I have my daily blog check: Confessions of a Restroom Attendant, Soy Mama, Manic Mom, the communal ummmm blog, chronicles of the existence of divine comestibles, the Garden of Insanity…these are the ones I check, if not every day, then on a regular basis. Oh, I also check my own for comments. I know, kind of sad, but sometimes they pop up and I get happy. I don’t often post on other’s blog’s, so I don’t get too down when I don’t get posts on mine. I digress. I also checked on a Due in June message board at iParenting.com. Message boards are really the same. This one was full of It’s a Boy! and It’s A Girl! posts…’cause all the mommies are getting the 18-22 week ultrasound done, and most everyone in the normal universe finds out the baby’s sex before hand. Well, Hubby and I are different…we don’t know and don’t want to know. I like to think of it as a reward for all the hard work of labor…the announcement that Dr. D will make as soon as the little one pops out. I like having surprises to look forward to.

So, another hour down, I decide to eat some lunch before heading to the Post Office. I have leftover salad, artichokes with garlic and lemon, and crackers with olive spread. I read a couple chapters of “Guns, Germs, and Steel” while eating. I am so loving this book. It is really a fascinating way of looking at human development. I just finished agriculture and am well into the domestication of animals for food and labor. Wild stuff. Finish lunch up, package the books and decide to wear slippers to the Post Office, cause I don’t feel like putting on shoes. Right. Mail the books; realize I have forgotten to bring the Good Will donations with me, so oh well, that won’t get done today.

By the time I get back, it’s three o’clock and I have yet to clean or do anything significant. I debate on whether to take a nap or not. I decide not to, and instead do my nails. Hey, that’s important. I clean up nail stuff, clean up the living room and begin to think about cleaning the kitchen. Yeah right. Instead I make a bunch of music play lists on our home stereo set up. The Myth Box takes too long to explain…so I’m going to skip it. I will mention, Hubby taught me how to make play lists the day before and I have been very excited to do so. It’s fun making hours…nay…days of music to play that suit whatever mood I happen to be in. Little sis comes in and goes over her day with me…but this is my day so she’ll have to write her own. I decide that it’s time to nap…sleep past the yoga class I was going to take, get up and need to clean the kitchen. Cheery little sister pitches in and in no time at all, it sparkles. She did the laundry, dried dishes, put the weird serving platters-in their puzzle like configurations-away and generally was a huge help. I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.

By this time, dinner needed to be made. Stir-fry to the rescue! Put on some brown rice, sliced some lean pork and tossed in a bag of Trader Ming’s (Joe’s) Asian veggies and volia! Dinner was ready. Now if only Hubby was home…he got there around 7:45, put on Desperate Housewives and we ate and chuckled and ate and enjoyed the evening. Little sis took off to visit her boyfriend, and Hubby and I finished the evening by watching “Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels”. Neither of us had seen it in some time, and it was so very funny. That’s a movie that can be enjoyed over and over again. 11:00 PM showed up…time to gag down an absolutely awful pre-natal vitamin (yup…I have to refill my chewable prescription…another thing I forgot to do) and brush teeth in preparation for bed. We then snuggled down with the cats, which is a very rare occurrence in our house. The cats are not usually allowed to sleep with us…they get restless, we wake up…they start to jump on our heads…we toss them out. It’s better to just let them have the house to themselves at night. Little Violet was being a snuggle kitty and slept on me all night. I can’t complain, it was pretty nice and kept me from tossing and turning, I didn’t want to wake her up.

That’s it. That was my normal day…when not in school. When I have a schedule the days become much more…well…structured. I have the feeling though, my days will not be quite as relaxed and opened-ended in the very near future. At least not until the kids are grown and I can “retire” again…

Much love,

Valerie
01.24.06

Headache

Last night I dreamed I got drunk. I was drinking very small glasses of scotch and beer and wine, but way too many of them. I kept thinking in my dream: "Oh this glass is so small I can have one more with no problem. The baby won't mind..."

The problem is, I awoke this morning with a massive headache. And the kid has been doing flips all morning, adding to the general feeling of bodily discomfort. Time to drink more water.

Tired Girl

I have been so lazy this past week. Yup. Too lazy to post even. I've taken to two hour naps and commercial-free hours of TV. Lazy lazy girl. I haven't even finished my stack of reading, and now the semester is just around the corner. Ooh well, this is the other half of vacation, the half I really love, the week of being a total lay-about.

I have seen the doctor, and all is well in baby land. I have maintained a certain level of house cleanliness. I have gone grocery shopping and have cooked dinners. I just haven't done much else. I am currently avoiding cleaning the office, but it is now a desperate situation...as my youngest sister is staying with us for the next couple of months, and she needs a place for her clothes and a place to sleep. Sigh. I hate cleaning the office, but it must be done. Perhaps I will enlist her help in this endeavor...but if I don't even know what to do with it, how can she? That is the question of the hour.

Speaking of hours...I must get up and get going. She has to sleep somewhere tonight.

Moon Baby Dreams

Last night I had a series of strange dreams, most of which centered around sushi. At first, I was hosting a party with a bunch of people I haven't seen in ages, and decided that sushi would make the evening complete. So off I and another friend went to pick up some platters. I was checking off my order in the car on the way over...spider rolls, cucumber rolls, California rolls, shrimp tempura rolls...even in my sleep I know I can't eat the raw stuff! Somehow from there my dream morphed into another one...one where I worked in a sushi restaurant and my sole table was an older couple from the mid-west experiencing sushi for the first time. It was my job to make sure they ordered right. They were there for my entire lunch shift, and left me a $24 tip...which I thought was great, but it was the only money I made that day.

I'm blaming both the moon and the baby for those dreams. The moon was so bright it hurt my eyes last night. I felt like a reverse vampire.

On another note...do I have a lunch date set for the near future, and if so, can we eat sushi? Really, I think I must be craving it big time.

New Toys

Every year I like to add a little something new to my kitchen collection. I have all the basics, nice basics too, but sometimes you just need to add that pot or dish that has only one purpose. It’s a toy. You’ll use it maybe two times a year, but when you do…you love it.

Last year was a cast iron fondue pot. It sat for almost a year until I busted it out for a goat cheese fondue. But, boy was I happy to have it then.

This year the new toy is a tagine oven. Tagine refers to both the cooking vessel and the dish…much like the term “casserole”. Tagines are North African in origin and most folks would have experienced them as being a Moroccan dish. Yum. The food is cooked in a conical lidded clay pot. The clay heats the food at a slow, even rate and keeps it from drying out. The conical lid has a small steam hole and the entire dish can be used on the stovetop or in the oven. Genius I tell you. I love cooking tagines, and usually do them in a standard pot. Well, last night I busted out the official oven and am in love with the real cooking vessel now. I’m going to have to make some type of Moroccan stew at least once a month now, just to use my tagine.

Having the right pot to cook in, I wanted to cook an authentic dish. I chose chicken with preserved lemon and olives. The oven worked very well…and I was a touch skeptical at first. I’m not used to cooking in a clay pot over a hot flame. I kept worrying about it cracking, or not getting hot enough to brown the chicken or the dish taking way to long to cook. Little should I have worried; there is reason clay pots have been in vogue all over the world for a very long time. They work great. The chicken turned out very nice indeed. I can’t wait to make a lamb and prune tagine…I’m sure the lamb will turn out to be as tender as I’ve always dreamed it could be. Yes, I sometimes dream about tender lamb.

Who doesn’t?

Good Baby

I have been tempted to find out the sex of the baby. Yes, deep down in my heart I love surprises, but there is that little nagging feeling that wants to know. You know the feeling...someone tells you that have found the perfect gift for you, you're going to love it, but your birthday is still six months away. You know you don't want to ruin the surprise. Yet, at the same time it's driving you crazy wanting to know.

So, today we went for our first big ultrasound. This is the one where if we were going to find out now would be the time. I have been dithering for the last couple of days, thinking (hoping) that maybe the tech would slip and we'd find out, or that the baby would be positioned in such a way that it would be obvious. Then, hey, we didn't ask to know, it just happened so no harm no foul, we know now and names would be easier to decide upon.

We have a good baby. A good baby and a great tech.

We, meaning hubby and I, went in to the office and at first I was put off. There was a huge line and I had a full bladder, per instructions. Not a good combo. I waited half an hour in line to have my paperwork processed, and was told that darling hubby would only be allowed to join me in the room for the very last part of the exam. That sucks. I think the medical profession needs to reward more dads for coming to appointments. They need to be involved in the whole thing if they choose to take time out and visit the doctor...when they don't have to. I don't like that for the most part they are expected to wait outside during the exams and only get to hear the tail end of everything. Our OB is great in this respect, hubby is allowed for the entire check-up and he is as encouraged as I to ask questions. I digress...

I was shuffled off to the "women's only" waiting room. Before I knew it, our tech had arrived and not only was asking for me, but she called hubby in right away. Cheers! Next, she said that she didn't need to do the exam with a full bladder, so I was instructed to go ahead and let it out. Whew! That made a huge difference. It was so much more fun to watch, without wondering when it would end, so I could pee.

The exam was very, very cool. Warm gel, dark room, and little baby pictures on a screen. We did remain strong, and let the tech know that we didn't want to know the sex. No sweat, she said, she didn't want to know either (not medically relevant). The good baby part comes in with the fact that while swooping around with the sound stick, it was discovered that the baby was lying with legs firmly shut. Modest child. We would have had to have done some real poking about to get the child's sex...baby wants to be a surprise and so mommy is happy with that. I will note that hubby was looking; he was interested in seeing if he could figure it out on his own. He came away thinking "girl"...so that's his guess in the baby poll. I still say it's anybody’s game.

All we really care about is that the little one's heart is still beating strong, organs have developed, there are little tiny legs and feet and arms and hands that wave and wiggle. It is truly an amazing sight, this little tiny life living inside of me right now. The little head was right under my belly button...I am blown away every time I think about that.

At our next doctor’s appointment, we'll find out what all the pictures mean. Nothing seemed to look weird, but as our tech explained, it's her job to record, not interpret. I'll also get the blood work results...the prenatal screens that can give a clue as to any problems that might develop. I'm gunning for the "all clear". So far, everything seems to be going along just fine...and in a few more months we'll know for sure. We'll also know if we have a Charlotte* or an Isaac* on our hands. Good baby. :)


*Just trying names out...nothing has yet been decided; so don't hold us to any names I might post here.

Vacation...Does It Have To End?

We are back from the wilds of Louisiana. While we were there I managed to eat (with the help of Darling Hubby):

crawfish: two ways, in an etouffe (super yum creamy sauce over rice) and fried
alligator: two ways, tailpieces battered and fried, and in a wonderful croquette-style ball blended with meat, bread, herbs, and then fried
catfish: in a brown butter wine sauce
soft-shell crab: stuffed with crawfish(!)
gumbo: yum
jambalaya: double yum
dirty rice: good with the creamy crab sauce
beignets and chicory coffee au lait: good, but not as good as I was hoping for...
And one out-of-this-world bread pudding with rum sauce. Oh yeah, it was that good.

The surprise meal came from a little hole in the wall cafe in a refinery town on a lake. The town was a disappointment, but the dinner was the best. Andouille sausage stuffed chicken breasts (presented as little chicken breast rolls, beautiful) with a raspberry demi-glace served over mashed sweet potatoes and asparagus. To die for good. The sweet potatoes were worth the trip alone.

We had a very good time. Some parts of the state were very distressing to look at, though. It's very hard to imagine the devastation in some areas, and the relative intact-ness of others. We did cruise down the Gulf Coast, before we were turned around...local traffic only...and that was the worst of it. I could not go back and rebuild, I don't think I would have the strength, but there were folks building and plowing; resetting houses and fields. That was an inspirational sight. Amazing.

The wedding was very nice, and Darling and I danced the night away. I was saving myself for a rare treat...a 1/4 glass of the bubbly for midnight, but when the time came the champagne was not so good for simple sipping and I didn't even finish my 1/4 glass. Oh well...everyone else was so tossed, they simply assumed I was as well...at least, those who didn't know that I am pregnant. Little do they know that it does not take the magic of alcohol to get me to dance like a fool.

Daring is still on vacation from work, so we are still bopping around the house doing nothing. We watched 12 hours of television yesterday. We finished "The Two Towers" went straight into "Return of the King"...then we continued through two disks of "Firefly". We didn't even really eat...we scrounged on what was left in the house. Yeah, lots of chocolate, cookies, crackers, cheese, peanut butter, yogurt and for dinner...microwave green beans with Parmesan cheese. Looking at all my food lists, it's no wonder I've gained 5 pounds in the last week and a half. As long as the baby takes his/her share, I'm fine. And, I'm going grocery shopping today.

Perhaps now is the time to begin acting like a real person again. Do some cleaning, some present putting away, vacuum, and grocery shop. Oh well. Vacation is nice, but if it lasted forever, would it really be as fun?

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

What a wicked and wonderful Christmas this year brought. Wicked only because we were so crazy up to Christmas Eve, it was hard to get into the true holiday spirit. Wonderful because we shared the time with a house full of loved ones. I waved good-bye to the last of the house guests this morning and have spent the entire day just hanging out with darling hubby, who has taken the next two weeks off from work. It is so nice to see him...the past months have been crazy for the both of us. Sigh. I love alone time with him- no housework that's getting done (what needs to be done is another matter all together)-just eating leftovers and watching stuff on the couch.

Right now he's building supports for the new speakers we picked up today. With the change in the living room configuration we are now able to put in surround sound. He is so tickled.

I managed, after two and a half years, to finish the curtains in the office and made new drapes for the living room.

I didn't bake, at all, except a caramel apple pie and a chocolate torte, but the presents we picked for family were big hits this year...so yeah team! It's always nerve wracking to buy for people you love, but don't get to spend a lot of time with. We picked brains for suggestions throughout the year and came up with some nice gifts. And as always, the reverse was true.

Tomorrow I have scheduled a manicure/pedicure with my best friend to celebrate the completion of a good semester...teaching high school for her and finishing the first upper-division semester for me. I can not wait, it's been too long since I had a nice pamper session.

Friday hubby and I are jetting off to the land of Louisiana for a New Year's Eve wedding. Should be fun, right in the heart of Cajun Country. Which reminds me, I have to check the weather and do some laundry...anyway, we'll be bopping around the south for a few days, which is an area of the country I have never explored. I really hope I can eat alligator. I'm not kidding. It's all part of the grand culinary tapestry of our country.

When we get back, I have reading and relaxing to attend to. And extended versions of LOTR to watch, with surround sound.

*Sigh* Life is good.

The Verdict Is In:

Rancid lamb fat smells much worse than fresh asphalt being rolled.

I will not field any questions about my housekeeping abilities.

By The Way...

In reference to the post about the writing workshop class final: I received my last paper in the mail and my professor informed me of my final test score. I got a C.

I hate poetry.

Now I really am going to soak in a tub until Christmas. Grrrrumph.

...

I. Am. Done.

I am going to take a bath. Don't disturb me until Christmas.

Four Down & One To Go

My first final was on December third. A standard mass writing exam where we had to give a close reading of a poem and break down the underlying structures that enforce the overall meaning. How very New Critical of us. I hated it. I am not a poetry fan, I dwell in a universe of snappy dialogue and non-elusive thought. I appreciate the complexities of the style, I admire those who can write it and those who really love it but I am not of that English major camp. I have been know to wax poetic about a new dish at a recently discovered restaurant...but that's hardly the same thing.

Anyway, my personal feelings about poetry aside, I do know how to structure a close reading and examine ideas within the lines. If only they had offered a classic poet, but we had a modern poem in all its free-verse glory to contend with. A verse acting as an answer to a 16th century Spanish poem. Don't get me started on the girl who showed up at the next (and last) class meeting who actually looked up the original poem in all its Spanish glory and brought in the translation and who then proceeded to regale the class for ten minutes (when I could have been having lunch thank you very much) on the differences between the two. Did she know all this during the test? No. Did it matter at this point? No. Then why bother? Because some students are just like that. (Perhaps I'm bothered so much because I used to be that student, but have since realized how annoying it is for everyone else to deal with.)

Anyway...to make this long story a bit shorter, I hated the test, spoke in length about punctuation and voice, and name dropped a bit. In the paper. Because I could. Ha! We, as students, are not allowed to see our grades on the test until after the semester ends. This would require a visit to my professor, and unless my grade is really lower than I am expecting in the class overall, I don't think I'm going to care all that much.

So, I have been on blog break because I have been finishing a slew of end-of-term papers (all correctly cited and noted MLA style Miss A...I thought of you) and projects leaving me with zero motivation to do any other writing. Today I used almost the last bit of brain I have left functioning and took three finals back to back. I tested from 8 am on the nose until I scrabbled my last editing notation at 2:30 pm. I had about a total of an hour and 15 minute break all day. But everything at State is done, hallelujah. I do not have to light rail it over there again until mid January. Woo-hoo!

Tomorrow I finish off Spanish Two with a flourish and then let the holiday madness consume me. I plan on baking oh...about four or five different types of cookies for the holiday visitors and then there is the pickle labeling to be done and the wrapping to complete...all things I dearly love.

Come January, I have a stack of novels to read, full of pithy lines and upfront action. I have baby stuff to acquire and lots of fun home projects. This is the first time I won't be working during my school break, and I plan on enjoying it.

Wish me luck tomorrow...I can't wait to finish this semester off!

First Scare

I no longer feel guilt over my lack of nausea.

I found myself bleeding just a touch, only a small amount...but scary enough...this morning. After frantically calling the doctor, I had to wait for her or the nurse to call me back. She did, while I was in class...and I waited another hour to hear from her again. No big deal, I wasn't bleeding anymore but I was still worried.

Turns out it could be any of several reasons why I spotted a bit. Nothing out of the normal, but I am now on "pelvic rest" which boils down to lots of rest, no heavy lifting or any other activities that could cause stress on the pelvis. For a week. At least it's finals week, and I don't have to carry my really big heavy bag around. Whew!

Yes, stress could be a factor so I am done worrying about the holidays. And Finals. Finals alone will be enough, thank you very much.

I Feel a Little Guilty...

...for many things in my life right now. But mostly I feel guilty for having a good pregnancy. I am. I didn't have the three-month-heaves. I was tired, but I didn't get sore breasts, aching joints, or any other physical symptoms. I feel great right now, and good thing too...right in time for finals.

I feel guilty for feeling good. I have a friend that just went through an awful pregnancy and very hard delivery. We went to visit the baby and just visit in general. I haven't seen her at all since her shower. She was miserable for the first and last three months...and I was told I sounded gloatly (really...I'm not!) when I said how great I felt after being asked, "How are you doing?". I'm sorry. I didn't plan it this way, and I'm just glad to be able to function as well as I am, 'cause school is kicking me across the floor right now.

I've decided that pregnancy is the most personal thing a woman can go through. There are few normals, and even they vary widely from woman to woman. Plus...I don't like to complain if there's nothing really to complain about(those of you who know me are laughing right now...ok...I don't complain as much as I could). I could go into the stressful emotional roller coaster I'm on...most days I want to cry for no reason...lately I've been picking fights with my husband, just to get some of this tension out of me (I'm sorry to you, sweetie, for that). I could talk about bathroom ordeals, but NOBODY wants to hear about that. I could mention a hundred small things, but to what point? Basically, I feel fine and really hope it stays that way.

Right now, all I can really think about is getting through this week and next. Oh, and where my next meal is coming from...boy, am I hungry all the time. (Does that count as a pregnancy complaint?)

A Shout-Out to my Husband

I've had a rough, irrational, emotional day. The stress of end of semester is upon me and homework plus projects keep piling up. In this mode I've been crying off and on all day, disagreeing with everything, unmotivated and a general grumpy pain in the butt. And my husband still loves me.

This is only a short list of the ways in which he shows me that this is true:

He made us breakfast. Yummy fried mashed potato cakes with cheese and green onion. Heavenly.

He sanded the new dining room table.

He's working (right at this moment) on getting our finances straightened out on the Mac version of Quicken so that I can log in and check our balances, pay bills and just be involved in where our money is going.

He shares his plate with me when we go out to eat.

He never yells or loses patience with me when I get grumpy like this. Instead he gives me extra kisses and makes me smile in spite of myself.

He doesn't yell at me, period.

He downloads "Desperate Housewives" every Sunday night so that we can keep current on the season.

He cooked dinner tonight, Cuban chicken and coconut rice, so that I could finish some homework. (Without my even asking...he just did it 'cause he's that kind of guy.)

He doesn't complain when I don't get the housework done.

He vacuums. On a regular basis. Underneath the furniture, too.

He always has a smile for me.

He takes care of my car. He spent a Saturday replacing the brakes. He changes my oil. He only sometimes rolls his eyeballs at the mess I leave in there. (I'm getting better!)

He's going to cook dinner for me for my birthday.

He always kisses me goodnight and has a snuggle for me as well. He never lets me get cold at night and he doesn't mind if I sometimes snore.

His hugs when he comes home from work make my day.

He went to Whole Foods in his pj's, tonight, just to get me carrot cake. Because I wanted some. Even after I've been grumpy all day.

I only have to remember how blessed I am to have such a partner in my life when I feel blue. I know this stress will pass and I'll feel fine again soon...and I know that everything in my life is just easier because my husband is just perfect for me.

Thanks hon. *smooch*

Where Did The Week Go?

Darling Husband was out of town on business for two days at the beginning of the week. I had all sorts of plans and goals to accomplish. Yeah right. I spent Monday night on the couch eating take out Indian food (so so yummy) and watching random recorded shows on the Myth Box. I was up until about 1am. Then about 3am I was awoken from my slumber by a gigantic wind storm rushing through the neighborhood. So very strong it rocked out the gate across the driveway and caused very loud, very scary noises to be made. About 3:15 I got up the courage to look outside and figured out what was going on. Around 3:30 I decided I couldn't "sleep through it" and had to take decisive action. This involved me running outside in my comfy robe and slippers and propping the gate open with a large and heavy rock. Problem solved. The wind still kept me up for the remainder of the night. Sigh.

Tuesday I babysat and chatted with a friend way to late. Nothing but goodwill and friendship accomplished. Oh, I did manage to get the dishes in to the dishwasher before the roommate came home. Whew. That was a lot.

The rest of the week remains a blur. I am now staring Thanksgiving in the face. I'm helping with 30 people in my mom's two bedroom home. Tomorrow I must shop...as I also have the pre-Thanksgiving happy fun time party in the City with friends on Sunday. I am so looking forward to it. It'll be nice to have a great relaxed dinner with friends before the huge production of Thanksgiving with the family happens.

I have come to the realization that Thanksgiving is the biggest production holiday my family does. It is the one holiday my mom hates to give up. She revels in cooking a large fancy meal for bunches of people. Thanksgiving was always a bigger dinner than Christmas or Easter. I too, revel in it now. The prospect of making huge quantities of food for a crowd pleases me. We've been planning this dinner since roughly, July. No joke.

After this, I have to get Christmas planned. It's happening here this year, and the construction on the street has left the house dusty. I'll be cleaning windows and curtains...and making new drapes for the living room...in preparation for Darling's family staying with us.

I have already started my gift shopping, though. When you order on-line, now is the time! OK, I know most of you out there have finished your shopping, but this is good for me. Trust me on this one.


--
...everybody eats when they come to my house!

A Little Salad Crazy

I went grocery shopping for the first time in, like, two weeks on Sunday. It was good. It's very nice to have a wide selection of healthy food options in the house. I did manage to go a touch crazy with one item. I bought four new bottles of salad dressing. Yes, four. This brings my salad dressing total to six in house. I could be a restaurant. Before you judge me a salad dressing loon....let me explain. We eat a lot of salad around here. I need a wide range of flavors to make sure my salad complements the overall tastes of the entire meal. Plus, I hate having to make a dressing every time I want to munch some lettuce. Oil and vinegar only go so far, you know. So...I had to replace the standards, Cilantro Lime and Newman's Own Cesar (the not creamy kind) and I added two new flavors to the line up: Lemon Chive and Goddess. Both are refreshing changes for the palette and plate. So I can salad on with the assurance of good taste. Yum.

*Shopping*

My pants are getting a little snug. Not so much when I put them on in the morning, but I notice it when I sit down or bend over or otherwise use the lower half of my body. Right now it's pretty limited to my jeans, but as cold weather approaches with the walk to school my Capri's aren't going to cut it any more.

Compounding this small problem is the fact that I really don't own a whole lot of pants. How can this be? I worked in a kitchen. I have four pairs of cheffing pants, which at one point in time I wore seven days a week between school and work. No joke. I own more chef clothes than jeans, cause that was the smart way to spend the clothing budget. Last year I splurged on honeymoon wear, but only bought light, packable pants. I think the last time I purchased a pair of regular old blue jeans was three years ago. And those were for work.

There is a reason behind this. I. hate. buying. pants. Especially jeans. It takes me weeks of hunting and shopping and malling...all things I could do without, thank you very much, to find one pair I really like. Then I stick with those until I can not wear them anymore. It has been suggested by some that I buy several pairs of said jeans when I find that right pair...but boys don't understand that girls can not own multiple pairs of the same jeans. Every pair must be slightly different. Every pair serves a slightly different purpose. If the same style came in different washes and you like them all, well, that might be alright, but how often does that happen?

So today I decided to go ahead and take the bull by the horns and go buy some pants. I have been holding out on buying new jeans, because I knew I would be getting pregnancy soon and did not want to have to go through the shopping process twice. I did some Internet looking, to get an idea of what was out there and what other women were wearing and hit the local mall. I was feeling kind of out of it and slightly head-achy...perfect for a shopping expedition. It keeps me focused, and I know if I find something I like when I'm feeling blah it's a real match and not a "feel good" purchase I'll regret later.

I began my journey at Target. Oh yeah. I didn't feel like plunking down the normal $45-$50 for jeans that have only a limited life span. Say, a year...maybe two with another kiddo, but not of constant wear. I'm saving the big spending for maternity/nursing bras. (Yeah...TMI for all my male friends, sorry.) I can usually find some cute things there and they at least have a maternity section (a problem I would encounter later with stores that don't carry any maternity in-house). Big disappointment. Everything that fit the waist dragged on the floor and for some unknown reason, 'boot cut' was huge. I'm not going to be wearing heeled boots and have a baby belly out to there. Plus, boot cut, unless done oh so subtly, leaves my hips and thighs looking enormous. Not pretty. I finally found one pair I could live with after I hem the bottoms. Yeah, the dressing room girl didn't like me very much.

Next stop...Old Navy. This used to be a haven for me and regular jeans, so I thought I'd give maternity a shot. I like the fact that they give you options like short or regular inseam (short please!) and have little tags that tell the expectant mother which trimesters the pants are good for. I was going for the whole package, 1-2-3 (also good for post birth!) as I'm just about out of my first trimester and wanting to get the most wear out of the pants. Back to not wanting to have to do this all over again. I found one pair I could live with. Actually, they are very cute and I really like them...but one pair. Out of the six I tried on. Out of the dozen I searched through. One pair. This is how picky I am and this is why I don't take anyone with me when I shop serious for clothes. At least I found a 'short' pair. No hemming required.

Now I was beginning to feel really frustrated. I had wanted to acquire at least three pairs of jeans...and I had exhausted the know shopping stops. I tried a big national store. Not one singe piece of maternity clothing. I was surprised, given the amount of children's clothes they carried.

I decided to wander the mall and see what jumped out at me. What I found was Motherhood Maternity. An entire store devoted to pregnant women. No $200 pants in sight (A Pea In The Pod really really charges $200 for a pair of maternity jeans). I was stoked. The staff was super friendly and helpful, plus the fitting rooms were outfitted with little strap-on tummy pillows to help you visualize the pants as the baby gets bigger. Cool. I just did the good old stretch them out test, worked just fine. I ended up with another pair of super comfy jeans and a bonus pair of green cargo pants. The cargo pants are rather large...I won't be wearing them for at least another month...but the jeans are going to go into immediate rotation. Much happiness. Of course, I am now on their mailing list and who knows what kind of scary baby related stuff is going to show up. I've been promised two issues of 'Parents' magazine and samples of Huggies. Great. But I really like the jeans. I might even break my rule and go get another pair. Just like the first. I'll just have to remember when I wore which where.

Alright...

...the hot dog cart smelled really really good this afternoon.

The Worst So Far...

I hate to complain, but I'm going to do just that for the next little bit. Small...but getting really annoying.

I have come to the conclusion that the worst part about this pregnancy, so far, is the heightened sense of smell. I smell everything. Most of it is bad. I've always had a fairly good sense of smell. That's why I have a pretty good sense of taste. I also have a really keen smell memory...did you know that smell is the strongest memory trigger?...but I digress. Now I have the nose of a bloodhound. At first, it was so cool to walk somewhere and smell things I never had before. It was fresh, exciting and fun. One memorable day was when I could smell the laundry detergent used to wash a young man's clothes standing across from me on light rail. Nice and clean. Food smelled the best, fresh herbs, cooking chicken, the grocery store was amazing!

Now it has all gone bad. Very very bad. It began with me. I began to smell bad to myself. Strong and different. I sat in class, worried that I smelled like a street person...but when I would ask hubby dear if I smelled bad (who else could I ask?) the answer was always "no". My clothes began to smell to me. Even clean ones had a lingering odor. Then the towels. Yuck! Freshly laundered, it's alright, but let them sit in the linen closest for a week...stink city. Now it's my entire house. I've gone through an entire bottle of Frebeeze in the past week trying to eradicate smell. I know it's clean. The carpets were steam-cleaned two weeks ago. I've washed all the couch covers. The kitchen has been scrubbed top to bottom, the cupboards cleaned out, the floor mopped. The bathroom was done the same way...the fixtures sparkle. There is just something wrong with my nose.

Food does not smell the same anymore. Things I used to love are now too strong. Rosemary, my dear herb friend, smells bitter. Garlic is sour. Sweets still smell good...and baked products and fruit...but everything else is slightly off. Taste is getting weird too. I thought the heightened sense of smell would make food taste so much better. At first it did, but now I have to be so careful with seasoning and saucing. I don't like saucy food anymore. I find the sauce to be overwhelming. Plain, clean, and simple, tastes are best to me right now.

The up side, good smells still smell really, really good. But the down side is killing me. There are bad smells everywhere...and bad smells trigger the slight quaking, queasy nausea that I dislike. I feel like an ocean voyager who has never quite gotten her sea legs. Not really sick...but not 100% either. If this is the worst of it, alright. I have a three more weeks before the food cravings start gearing up. We'll see what my nose decides to do then.

*yawn*

I am so tired today, I can not function. I had the worst dreams last night, the angry horrible ones where you're fighting with someone and beating on them because you're so angry. Why am I angry? I don't know. Now I feel like I've gone 10 rounds with the heavy-weight champ.

I also dreamed I was given the female lead in a Shakespeare play, but no one knew I was pregnant, and I didn't want to turn down the role, but I knew I would be very big by the time of the production, and I would not fit the costume or character. Somehow, National Security was involved, and all the actors got passes to fly through any "No Fly Zones". It's a good thing I have an active night life, cause my day life just drags.

Blah. Later I have to brave the wilds of IKEA, then onto the traditional Hallow e'en party. The party will be fun, if I have enough sugar soda to stay awake!

I'm going to work on a paper...yuck...and try to get a quick nap in sometime today. Wish me luck.

The Great Black Hunters

The cats, or I should say one of the cats, has taken to leaving us small gifts sometime during the course of the night. At first, when the dear, dead creatures would show up, it was debatable as to which cat loved us so. We've come to the conclusion that it is our little wild beastie, Violet, who has the talent of the chase.

A couple of nights ago, Hubby was awoken from slumber by the pitter-patter of small clawed feet scrabbling across the kitchen floor. As this is not a normal sound, he went to investigate. There he saw the wee beastie playing with her new toy, a rat. Hubby said that it wasn't a large rat, and she quickly disposed of it, and he then put the rat into its final resting place.

This morning I was on my way to the shower when I noticed a nice dead mouse laying close to our bedroom door. Sigh. Not the nicest way to wake up in the morning. I was a good girl and got rid of it myself, so Hubby didn't have to.

So far her count is: three mice, one rat and one bird. That one was fun, woke up to feathers all over the living room. Black feathers everywhere. No body pieces...except the head and all those feathers.

I dread the morning, when I first step outside our room. I'm glad they have their animal instincts, they are predators and need to hunt, but ick...I wish they'd leave it outside. I guess it's better than spraying the carpet or tearing up the furniture. Her efforts have stepped up in the past few days. Any time now we're expecting to see a squirrel. That would be worth something. For now as long as she doesn't leave them in the house alive, I guess I'll deal. But, it's still ick ick icky!

First Time

This afternoon is my official first doctor appointment. I've been waiting a month for this...hubby and I are very excited. It's about to become very real for the both of us. I am hoping and praying that everything is all right, the babes is attached in the right place and everything is progressing as expected. We've been assured that we'll have the first sonogram today as well. I can't wait to see the little creature that's growing into our baby. Technology is so very amazing.

Just keep your fingers crossed that we only find one in there...not two!

The strangest thing for me right now is the feeling that I'm 13 or 14 again. You know how it was. I'm not so comfortable with my body right now, we'd been having a great relationship the past few years, and now it just has a mind of its own. I'm breaking out like mad, my hair is so greasy, and my boobs are actually getting bigger. Yup. It's puberty all over again. I wasn't quite prepared for this side effect, but oh well...I guess I get to be a teen all over again for the next couple of months. God is really funny at times...I was never one of those women who longed to go back to her happy adolescent days (of course, I know very few women who would). I know I turned out fine the last time, so hopefully this second 'childhood' will be fine as well.

Gawk. I just really hate having to buy the anti-wrinkle pimple cream this time around.

OK...wish me luck! I'll be sharing news later!

Still Working

A clean house is a happy house. Mine is only midly amused right now.

Up and Down

So yesterday, the queasiness in my tummy migrated and became a spinning in my head. It made my final in Spanish I very interesting.

Today, I am house cleaning. I'm wondering if the spinning will stay in my head (fun with fumes) or move back into the tummy (more fun with fumes).

For now I will eat a bowl of Malt-O-Meal and not worry about it.

Gentlemen, and Ladies, Place Your Bets Please

It has been decreed by g-Mom One that the little one who has no name as of yet is a boy. Actually the conversation went something like this:

(Middle of talking about something else, not baby related...)

g-Mom One: You know you're having a boy, right? Even though I'd prefer a girl, they're much more fun to dress, but boys are easier."

Me: I don't think so.

g-Mom One: You could be right, but I'm hardly ever wrong about these things.

As random as it sounds...it was actually very cute. And scary. She's right, she's hardly ever wrong about these things. Funny thing is...I'm not far enough along to even begin the battery of "old wife tale" tests to determine the sex of the baby before birth. I know that science can accurately predict these things, but where is the fun in that? Hubby and I are going for the old-fashioned surprise. Plus, we like the challenge of picking out two sets of names.

There is a point here somewhere...oh yeah...so now that the gauntlet has been thrown down, I'm ready to take bets on the sex of the baby. It's too early to look for things like, how low am I caring, or what way does the pendulum swing, and my favorite, the pee-in-bleach test (fun! and good smelling too!) but anyone who wants to weigh in may. I haven't decided on any prizes yet, and as time goes by, we might have to modify the game to sex, plus birth weight and length...just so there is one clear winner. But, I'll have to get somewhat bigger before y'all can speculate on that.

Have fun and happy betting! Remember, only the bean knows for sure.

Every Campus Has One...

you know the eccentric student who makes a statement simply by being there. We have "Boom Box Girl" at SJSU. The comment I heard today, the one that made me realize that BBG is somewhat of an institution was from two sorority-type girls..."There she goes. You can always hear her before you see her."

As snotty as these girls were, they were not far off base. You see, BBG has made it her mission while at State to share her love of eclectic music with the rest of the campus. She is not an i-Pod bopper, not BBG. She is old skool all the way. She rides around campus in the morning usually, although I have heard her in the afternoon as well, on a tricycle (adult size...don't think Shriner's here) with a huge basket in the back wearing a backpack whose sole purpose in life is to carry her very large, very loud, and I might add very clear-sounding, boom box. The boom box is loaded with a strange, and sometimes pleasing, mix cd of what I'm guessing to be her favorite musical styles. One day it's the Beastie Boys followed by...get this...Frank Sinatra. One day it's pretty hard core new rock with a touch of English pop thrown in. Today it was almost exclusively seventies disco. "Ring My Bell" played a large part in my head today.

She must make a new cd for everyday. Not once have I heard a repeat. She glides around on her three big wheels...happy as can be...back and forth across campus sharing her love of music.

Like I said...this is college life and I gotta enjoy it while I can. :0

Guilty Pleasures

It started off so innocently. Everyone was doing it. It was just a fun past time...now it has become an obsession spiraling out of control. Yes friends, I mean the daemon Baby Board. Sigh. I'm wondering if the anonymity of e-mail-esque posts and heavily hormonal women is really such a good idea. I'm coming to the conclusion it's not, but at this point I am addicted to the train wreck soap opera that is real life. Perhaps if I had TV I could wean myself off the Board by watching something awful on VH1 or MTV.

Oh well. At least none of them can really track me down, but lord help me if they find this blog!

I'm feeling very icky today as well...tired, queasy stomach and sore swollen mouth. Hard to tell what's baby and what's cold. Sigh. Nothing to do but wait it out. It probably makes my patience thin, though. I want to only whine about myself, and not read some other persons whine. Whine whine.

OK...I'm going to end this before I alienate even myself.

I Need A Drink

And I can't have one. *sigh* Instead, I will make myself a non-fat banana milkshake and call that good. I might even go for the chocolate swirl. Crazy.

Meeting a Legend

Last night I was able to meet a man I adore through his works. Neil Gaiman did a reading/Q&A/book signing in Berkley and of course I had to go. It was fantastic. The reading was incredible, he has a terrific speaking voice. Very nice, very relaxing, very sexy, even (that last part was the general consensus, so not just me). During the Q&A, his humor came across so well. He writes very much like he speaks. It was wonderful to experience the "unscripted voice" and have it match the one in my head, the one I hear when I read him. As I was having my books signed, I managed to say nice things without, hopefully, coming across as a total spazz-case. I would not have traded going to the event for anything.

I have quiet obsessions...no one is ever going to place me in the category of 'Fan' with a capital 'F'. His writing has been a source of much happiness for me over the years. It has inspired me, in small ways, and given me much to think about and enjoy. So the opportunity just to hear him read and to have him tell me, "Thanks for reading and thanks for coming out" was really very special. And I now have a new Neil Gaiman novel to relish. *Happy Sigh* Life is good.

It's here...

...and I'm ready for it. Time to be a mommy, and I am so excited!

School has been so weird this week, full of ups and downs. I had my first major test in grammar. I think I did well on some parts, and bombed others. I got a C- on a piece of homework I turned into editing. Sigh. I haven't seen a C, much less a C- since High School. Usually, if I do it, I do it well. But editing is something I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around. Go figure, I have to justify all my bullshit, remember a list of rules, apply them correctly...and check spelling! Akk! Good thing I'm not looking at doing this as my career...I'd have to figure out something different fast! On the plus side, I did very well on my first big paper in Lit Crit. A-. Technical difficulties, go figure. Oh, and spelling out 'coma' in place of 'comma'. Huge difference!

My mind hasn't really been on school though...it's baby baby baby. We've known for less than a week...and already I have so many questions...I want to know so many things. I've been making baby stuff lists, looking at Craigslist for deals, dreaming of staying home and just being mommy.

These next few months are going to fly...everyone recommends keeping a journal of some sort, so this might turn into a pregnancy journey journal...with the rest of my life thrown in. We'll see. I have to wait almost a full month before I go see my Doctor and see how things are progressing. I think we might do the first ultrasound...I think it will really sink in then. Right now it's still so new and shiny. I love it.

You Are Likely a First Born

At your darkest moments, you feel guilty. At work and school, you do best when you're researching. When you love someone, you tend to agree with them often. In friendship, you are considerate and compromising. Your ideal careers are: business, research, counseling, promotion, and speaking. You will leave your mark on the world with discoveries, new information, and teaching people to dream.

The Birth Order Predictor

Now the question is...did I skew this test to get the correct anwser? The world may never know...

Kind of Creepy...

I decided to be counter-culture today. Counter for SJSU, anyway. I should preface this by stating that I have an intense dislike for flip-flops. It all began way back in San Diego. I thought I had left them in that den of Cali casual, but no. They are everywhere, ruining my wonderful sense of 'Fall'. Not to mention my sensibilities. I understand that flip-flops have their place...Saturday morning run to the grocery store or even, *gasp* at the beach. But I don't want to always be looking at the feet of my fellow students. Which brings me to my little rebellion.

In an effort to act like a college student and run against the grain of society, I wore my big bad-ass paratrooper boots to school today. Oh yeah. Laces over the calf, just under the knee. Rounded point toes. Heavy black leather. Tough, don't-mess-with-me boots. Under a lovely flowing linen peasant skirt that goes just below the knees. And a clingy black top. The perfect combination of "militant" and "feminine".

I was all over it on campus today. Clomping around in a graceful way...skirt flowing boots stomping. I got noticed in the English department. They all knew they were dealing with an anti-flip-flop revolutionary. I was hot.

I only wish the construction crew working right outside my door hadn't been so interested in me when I got home this afternoon.