Slow down!

I drank something I shouldn't have. It was laced with caffeine and loaded with sugar and now I am being kicked, elbowed, prodded, and probably laughed at. Baby is on a sugar/caffeine high and going nuts. Unfortunately the baby isn't big enough yet for Will to feel the barrage from the outside.

This has now officially turned into a Baby Journal. I am very sorry.

...and "Somebody Put Something In My Drink" (Ramones) is on loop in my brain...

In which I am reduced to a blubbing mess in seconds

So I read on some website or other that Froggy is now 20cm (8 inches) long and weighs 300grams (10.5 oz). I went down and searched around the kitchen till I found something about the right weight to show Will (a bottle of canola oil - last time it was my prenatals). Then he knelt down on the floor and put his head on my belly and told the baby how big it is and how much we love it, more than we love each other even, and I just started crying all over the place.

I don't even think I can blame the hormones for this. (Well, of course I CAN, but I don't think I need to.)

I am just disgusted by how happy this pregnancy has made me. Happier even than I'd hoped, and I had pretty high expectations.

random things

• I often feel the need to set the record straight but seldom do. Sometimes I worry that this is because I like being able to sit and stew in anger about the fact that some people think I became pregnant by accident (or whatever I am annoyed about on any given day).
  
  
• I have ridiculously expensive taste. Part of me knows this is merely because I like things that are high-quality and will last, which is perfectly reasonable; however, part of me thinks I might be a greedy piggy. (Example: I spend half of our money on food because I want to eat organic. Less reasonable example: I want a Bugaboo stroller really bad and I don't even like strollers.) On the other hand, I still think my diamond is a bit large and it's less than half a carat.
  
  
• In keeping with this confessional vein (which I can only assume was brought on by the discussion of New Years Resolutions): I feel a deep sense of entitlement. People look down on me for this a lot. What no one seems to understand is that I think everyone should feel entitled to the things I demand. Respect, for instance. Fair treatment. You know. (I guess this was kind of setting the record straight. The problem is that the people who need the information are never the ones who will get it through this medium.)
  
  
• I have lost my equilibrium. I know this is to be expected, but DAMN! I was clumsy to begin with! Where did my center of gravity go?

And...I'm out of steam. I'm certain there will be more randomness later.

situation(s) update

1. Today we distributed letters to every apartment in the building, outlining what happened to me two weeks ago and what has (or rather hasn't) been done about it. No fingers were pointed. Safety precautions were recommended. We have already (within two hours!) had a visit from a neighbor who was very concerned, wanted to know more, and has said she will show the letter to the law firm she works for and complain to management as well. Not bad, eh? (But I still have not reported the building to the city because OHMYGOD is the building code ever long and boring.)

2. Froggy is showing signs of being just like Mommy (damn it). If I roll over in the night s/he wakes up and makes it abundantly clear that THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. This morning I received a fax (or elbow to the bladder) stating that while sleeping on one's head may be well and good for us crazy grown-ups out here in the big bad world, BABY WON'T STAND FOR IT SO MOMMY HAD BEST STAY PUT WHEN BABY IS SLEEPING. I think I need to get one of those body pillow thingies.

3. 18 weeks, four days (this past Monday):

Spending money is harder than you'd think.

But also very, very easy.

I was given a total of $600 cash for Christmas. This is a lot of money. On the other hand, clothing is pricey and computers even moreso. Deciding where it should go was tough.

$100 was from my husband. He'd intended to buy me a gift certificate to a spa, so I'd have to spend it on pampering myself, but there wasn't time (story of our lives lately). So he gave me the cash, which worked out nicely since I really wanted some goodies from Origins. I bought face moisturizers and eye make-up and lip gloss. (Origins is expensive - even with 10% off I still went $5 over.)

$500 was from my very generous in-laws (they gave Will the same and I am sure he will blog about what he bought with it). After I saw my chiropractor this morning we drove over to my favorite yarn store where I purchased the Denise needle kit (interchangeable tips and cables for circulars or anything else on earth you could possibly need). Then we went to the Grove, where we spent six hours parking and forty minutes in the mall. Next time we will remember to park on Beverly and walk. I bought two more camisole tops, a t-shirt with lace at the boobs, a warm fuzzy pullover, and three pairs of pants. With $175 leftover I decided to listen to my feet, which have been screaming for a pedicure, and set aside $25. The rest went into an Apple giftcard. If it's Apple money I can't spend it on anything else, you see. We now have almost $500 (including the card that arrived today from Kulia - thank you!) toward the new machine, which is nearly halfway. This is excellent.

It's turning out to be a very Merry Christmas.

this post has no title but is about Christmas

While Will watches After the Thin Man downstairs I am taking a quick break to reflect on Christmas. There was some bad - very bad - in the form of a family feud that I cannot/will not get into here. But there was also a lot of very good, which I think can be summed up best in list form.

• Greek food
  
• homemade pizza
  
• pork pibil
  
• chile verde (vegetarian)
  
• salsa & guacamole
  
• margaritas (I tasted one and it didn't kill the baby so there)
  
  
• brass monkey bookends
  
• The Thin Man box set
  
• Apple store giftcards
  
• Libeled Lady
  
• a book of hot chocolate recipes (I cannot for the life of me remember which of my parents this was from)
  
• an illustrated Wizard of Oz
  
• cash for maternity clothes (or whatever I want) from the in-laws
  
• cash from the husband to spend frivolously on myself (I went to Origins)
  
• Batman Begins
  
• baby clothes
  
• knitting things
  
• cookbooks
  
• book-books
  
• tchotchkes*
  
• caaandy**
  
  
• love
  
• health
  
• baby
  
• friends

Tomorrow we are off to spend Will's Christmas money on new boots and mine on new clothes and if there's anything leftover it will go toward the compooper.

*It is worth mentioning Will's sister's gifts on their own: a serving bowl made out of an LP (Tony Bennett), a decorative cowboy plate, and this knife set (I laughed for an hour).
**Blogger wants to change this to Canada. WWBD (What Would the Bears Do)?

And now I must get back to my husband, who is in ill health after finding himself at the wrong end of a bottle of tequila.

What the hell?

I can't seem to read my blog. The page won't load. I can read other blogspot blogs, just not mine. And of course I don't know if anyone else can see this, which is why I'm writing it; if you can access this page, please leave a comment - they are emailed to me, so I'll know about them.

SANTA BROUGHT MONKEYS.

Every year we open one gift on Christmas Eve. This year I opened a box containing two brass monkey bookends. Like this one. It also contained some cash. Whatever. MONKEYS!

On second thought, I believe I'll stay indoors after all.

What with hustling and bustling we did not get to the tree lot this year. We meant to, even though there isn't room for a tree. We wanted real pine for Christmas. But it didn't happen.

Will agreed to humor me in my desperate desire for kitschy 50s-style aluminum trees, and so I went off to a party store yesterday intending to buy one each (3-footers) in pink, green, and silver. After a quick call to Will while in sticker shock and a decision to get the silver one in a larger size, I brought my pretties up to the counter. Where my bank card was denied. This had happened twice on Thursday, but at that point I assumed it simply wasn't activated yet (I was told, frustratingly, that it might take up to 48 hours - but this was nearly 72 hours later). Also on Thursday I had Will and his debit card with me. I spent AN HOUR on the phone with Washington Mutual. I spoke to multiple people; the manager of the party store spoke to multiple people. The general consensus was that there was no reason for my card to be denied. Yeah, real fucking helpful. I explained over and over that NO, I did not have an alternate method of payment - I was MUGGED and anyway even if I had a credit card - WHICH I DON'T - this is my bank card and the only access I have to MY MONEY. I finally just called Will and he rushed over and paid for my trees. Then I went home, defeated, instead of buying a spare pair of goggles for Will's stocking.

I never thought I'd say this so sincerely, but I am SO FUCKING GLAD my in-laws will be here in a few hours.

Cry Wolf review

...is up at Creature Corner - Your Source for Horror. I think mouse will be happy with my treatment of her boyfriend.

Things I will not be doing.

Though I know everyone means well (and I appreciate it!) I feel the need to clarify a few things.

• I will NOT be suing the building. They are not financially responsible for anything. They are responsible for the security of the building, and we are dealing with that. The monetary loss is (mostly) covered by our insurance company - we just have to wait the full 30 days for the car to be recovered before we can file the claim.
  
  
• I will NOT be staying indoors where it is safe. I may be an emotional wreck, but I am also a big girl, a point that may have gotten lost in everyone's concern.

Thank you for your considerate future comments.

In which the rental car tries to kill me.

Today the rental car tried to kill me. I was driving to my chiropractor's office and as I approached a green light at an intersection on Ventura I realized that there was a fire truck coming into the intersection fast from my right. I'm not sure how I'd failed to see or hear it sooner, but there it was, so I stopped the car. Or rather, I tried to. The brakes kind of locked up on me. They began functioning again before I hit the fire engine, but there is no way that it is normal for a car going less than 30 miles an hour to make that sound and slide like that and leave rubber marks on the road.

So we have traded the nasty Neon in for a Cavalier. Having only two doors is inconvenient but we used to have a Cavalier and they drive nicely (not as many blind spots as the Neon, for one thing - I swear you could only see whatever was directly in front of you in that piece of crap).

I would be ready to just give up on the world, but Cassie took us out for sushi this evening so I am feeling a bit forgiving. Or possibly just full, the feelings are almost interchangeable.

But the era of the mix tape is over, as this one has a CD player. And mix CDs are just not the same. My theory: the magic lies in only being able to control two tracks at a time.

Christmas and other nice things

Yesterday I met Yvonne, her friend Amy, and their gorgeous children for lunch. I love meeting bloggy people! I had a ton of fun and Yvonne is just gorgeous. Don't listen to anything she might say to the contrary. Unfortunately I only took one picture and it was of the kids being adorable.

Yesterday afternoon a package came in the mail from Canada containing a pink Pashmina from Allison. I was being good and leaving it be until Christmas but then Will and I woke up super-early this morning and decided to go out for breakfast. We went on the Vespa so I needed it to keep me warm.

I'm still not ready for Christmas and I'm still in a murderous rage over the neglect by the building management, but somehow I am also in a good mood today. I hope it lasts.

I give up.

It should come as a complete shock to no one that management has yet to do anything whatsoever about the safety issues in the building. No repairs, no warnings to the other tenants...nothing. And we found out tonight from the security guard (who I am trying not to despise just because he wasn't on duty until 15 minutes after I was attacked) that his boss has been trying to convince management to install security cameras for over a year.

Tonight I posted signs in the lobby and near all three elevators warning neighbors of what happened and reminding them of basic safety precautions like closing outside doors (which most folks do not do). I also wrote another letter basically saying I would fuck their shit up if they removed my signs without replacing them with the same information.

Before taking that step I posted this at el Buffyguide. I'd welcome any advice.

I am at my wits' end.

You may recall that I have posted in the past about the manager of my apartment building and the fact that nothing is ever done as it should be. Oh, if repairs are made they are usually solid, but it is very difficult to get important things done (for example, they are always quick to change my kitchen lightbulb for me instead of replacing the fixture which we cannot remove to change it ourselves).

So you may know that we had a leaky ceiling for five months and it was another five months before the roof was replaced. You may also recall that maintenance has done brilliant things like leave my apartment door unlocked after entering without my permission (though for work I requested).

We would love to move, but we simply cannot afford to move anywhere. Because we've lived here for three years and there is a limit on rent increases, we pay hundred of dollars less per month than we would if we moved in now -- and this apartment is half the size we need now. We have just now managed to collect enough money for a security deposit elsewhere, but that doesn't pay rent thereafter. So we are stuck here for the time being. (Please pray, cross your hooves, or whatever it is that you do that my husband will get the job he's been interviewing for.)

Last Monday I was carjacked in the "secure" underground parking lot of my building. My attacker entered through a pedestrian door that has a lock on it but also has a hand-sized hole next to the knob, enabling anyone to reach in and open the door from the inside. On further inspection I discovered that the other pedestrian door doesn't even have a lock or latch anymore. While it is true that anyone could enter the garage on the heels of a car, that is not what happened in this case.

I put in phone calls to management every day last week, leaving messages on their machine, the first in the middle of the night after I was mugged. At first I merely demanded that they change the locks to our apartment, as the man who had my car also had my license (with apartment number on my license) and house keys. As soon as I discovered the easy entry, I asked them to fix the doors. On Friday, nothing had been done and I put the request, very firmly, in writing. I also asked that they post signs at all entrances to the building, warning neighbors.

Today is Tuesday and nothing has been done. I am going to make the signs myself. I have left a FURIOUS message on the machine (no one is ever in the office). I plan to call the department of housing but I am trying to find the portion of the building code that's been violated first.

I don't know what else to do. I want these assholes to realize how serious what happened to me was and that 150 families are in danger of similar crimes because of negligence by the building. I want them to fix the goddamn doors. And at this point, I'd really like a fucking apology, though I realize that is an emotional reaction and what is really important is safety and legal matters.

What am I to do? What would you do? And is there an apostrophe in the phrase wits' end?

Oh, I should mention that my post title actually refers to Christmas. There is next to no hope of anyone outside of LA receiving their gift before Christmas day. I feel terrible about it, but circumstances conspired against me this year.

Also, it has been generally agreed upon that my apostrophe usage is correct.

To Do. Updated. Again.

• Package and pack up all Christmas gifts. (Leeway permitted for in-town pressies.)
  
  
• Finishing work on a few knitted gifts.
  
  
• Finish editing chapter 15.
  
  
• Pray that meeting Will is currently in leads to Dream Job. We won't know until after the holidays (Santa always gets my requests wrong).
  
  
• Consider writing up page on editing services. (I was just approached for another possible job, and it would be nice to have something prepared.) Well, I considered it. And came up with the basic page. But I did not put it online because that is a big commitment and I HAVE ENOUGH GOING ON RIGHT NOW.
  
  
• Watch Cry Wolf DVD for review (online by tomorrow's release). Now to write the review... DONE. Said lovely things about Jon.
  
  
• Search building code for specific violations committed by asshole management. Call Department of Housing.
  
  
• Fill out claims forms for car insurance.
  
  
• Clean entire house for in-laws' visit.
  
  
• Bake.
  
  
• Grocery shopping for Christmas meal.
  
  
• Beg Santa for a postponement as I just don't have enough time.

Pictures.

17 weeks, give or take a day:

(That was pre-haircut & wax.)

With dee on her birthday (fabulous new hair included):

I am so far behind I could almost give up.

I am still trying to accomplish things I meant to do on Tuesday...and probably would have if I hadn't been on the phone all day trying to get the correct information to all parties (including myself) so that the car theft would be the smallest possible ordeal. Well, if this is the smallest possible, anyone suffering through a bigger ordeal has probably expired from the stress.

I feel guilty for even taking the time to type a blog entry, but the shops are closed and my eyes will not focus on M's manuscript anymore today despite the strong talking-to I gave them.

I feel as though the only thing I have accomplished is mailing the Christmas cards - and they were ready almost two weeks ago, lacking only stamps. So I can barely even blame the mugging. Logically I know that I've gotten lots of other stuff done too, but it is easy to be hard on myself - and sadly on Will too; I had a bit of a meltdown on the poor guy earlier today.

On the plus side we were able to spend the morning with dee for her birthday, which was so very nice. We met some of her friends and had good food and a walk on Venice Beach. Will and I were the first of the group to leave and I felt bad because it is her birthday - but we had so much to do. All things I should have done this week but could not. We barely got started on the list but we can get a lot done tomorrow, and Monday if needs be.

In a moment of pure selfishness I asked Will to buy me a maternity top or two. None of my shirts cover my belly anymore, and I am just not happy wearing Will's t-shirts in public. We went to the Gap and found a couple of camisoles with built-in shelf bra and a super-cute top that I can wear on Tuesday. Oh, what's happening on Tuesday? I'm meeting my bloggy friend Yvonne, that's what. It's taking every ounce of restraint in my body to keep from typing this in all caps. She is getting together with two of her other bloggy friends and invited me along and I am SO EXCITED.

But first I must sleep. I feel as though I could sleep all night and through tomorrow into Monday, but that is probably an exaggeration.

Will took a picture of me and dee at brunch, which I will try to post tomorrow.

What does "timely fashion" mean?

So it took me a day and a half, but I finally dragged out the tape box and grabbed some goodies. Mostly mixes, of course. So far I've just listened to one, titled "Fuck You Eric Fitzgerald." It shouldn't require any explanation whatsoever, but just in case you are hopped up on NyQuil or something, I will explain: When I was 18 I broke up with Eric Fitzgerald because he was a shitheel to me. I didn't feel that dumping him was sufficient, so I made a mix tape of angry break-up music to drive around and listen to and be angry. It turns out, nine years later, that it also works nicely post-mugging. (Also, I haven't listened to the tape since I met Will, so I just heard "6'1" for the first time in approximately eight years and I flipped out and now I need to get that album.)

Tomorrow, I am totally listening to "Appetite For Destruction," if I didn't totally wear it out in the summer of 2000. (Have I ever told the "Rocket Queen" story?)

Also, I finally got a haircut. I LOOK GREAT! And I let her talk me into some fun with hot wax in the back room. I'll get Will to take my picture later.

Now if I could just take the Christmas cards I addressed two weeks ago and put them in the mail, everything would be great.

OMG!

The rental car has a tape player. I haven't listened to tapes in the car since our Chevy was totalled in May of 2000.

BUT WHAT WILL I LISTEN TO FIRST?

This is so ridiculously exciting. Nevermind that I still have work to do and dressed to get before I can possibly go anywhere. Oh, and I need to have strong words with building management about security. But as soon as I've done all that, I am taking off with a mix tape.

Things.

This morning I had an odd dream about Mark. It was very long and involved and most of it is irrelevent. At the end, Mark was there and he said to me, "I'll probably forget you," and I told him that was all right.

Also this morning, but after I woke up, I wrote a check for the car payment. Ouch.

Our traditional Christmas day orphans' meal was almost off, but now it's on again. And I think we have plans for New Years! (Not that said plans involve leaving the house or anything crazy.)

The rental car is a white Dodge Neon. Blech. Also, its brakes squeal a little, just like our Mazda. I don't think it was necessary for them to give us so close a match. But it's absolutely free to us except for the stupid deposit.

I have work to do now.

On bureaucracy.

So it turns out that while my assailant drives around in my car, recording his farts on my mini-cassette recorder and using my umbrella, I, the victim, have to jump through many hoops. While I do not believe in acting the part of a victim, I also do not think this is very fair. I already got mugged. What more must I suffer through?

In order to rent a car one must have a valid driver's license, even if it was stolen along with the car. OK, the DMV issues replacements. But there isn't, to my knowledge, a bus that goes to the DMV, and insurance doesn't cover public transportation anyway - they cover rental cars (though it should be noted that we were responsible for the $250 down payment). I am very lucky in that I have a partner who I kept home from work to go with me to rent the car, so it was rented in his name and he drove me to the DMV. Applying for a replacement license was very easy. In a move of unprecedented DMV brilliance, they do not require any identification, merely checking the information on your application against your records and the picture on file against, um, your face. However, they do charge a $20 replacement fee. If your wallet is stolen, how are you supposed to get money? Cash - gone. ATM card - gone. You can walk up to a teller, but they require ID in the form of either your bank card or a credit card and photo ID. All of these items were stolen, and if I were a normal person my check book would probably also have been in my purse (as it is, my checkbook currently contains no checks, but if it did the DMV would accept one). Again, lucky I had Will, whose ATM card I used to withdraw cash en route to the DMV. Then we had to go back to Enterprise to add my name, which was luckily 100% painless except for parking at rush hour.

So because of my circumstances I really only lost time (but lots of it, and Will lost a whole day of work). What about the people who are alone and/or paid by the hour? I am utterly horrified at the system.

Enough of that.

Blah blah blah I was mugged. Whatever.

YOU KNOW WHAT?

I am eating homemade gingerbread that came all the way from England! A box came today with a little customs form on it and I squinted at the signature and squealed, "C [lastname]! That means Caroline!" And Will looked at me blankly until I explained.

The end.

P.S. Gingerbread = YUM.

P.P.S. Not opening the wrapped gifts that were also in the box is like torture. Hurry, Christmas! I have pressies from Caz!!

Are you fucking kidding me?

I lived in New York for 18 years. One time my dad and I were kind of harrassed by some guy for about five minutes.

Ten years later I live in LA and I get mugged.

I'm fine, but boy am I pissed. I liked that purse. AND THE CAR.

Edit: My mugging has just been upgraded to a carjacking. Police report taken. Wondering if I will ever get to sleep. Stupid adrenaline.

You've got questions, I've got answers.

Can I see your tits?
Probably not. Email and ask.

What foods are you craving?
It would be easier to tell you what I don't want: any junk including fried foods and most sugary foods. I am really into fresh organic veggies - they taste better than anything else.

For guessing purposes, what are the bpms on the baby's heartbeat at your midwife appointments?
I assume you mean to guess the sex. Anyway, in keeping with my anti-sonogram sentiments, I've only heard the heartbeat once with doppler, at 10 weeks. I will hear it again in about 3 weeks with a fetoscope. Six and a half weeks ago it was 180 beats per minute.

Is Will gaining any sympathy weight? Will he have belly shots to show if he does? Will you be posting any of Will's belly shots?
Maybe, I don't know, definitely not - it's his belly.

Why aren't you getting a sonogram? Everyone does.
A sonogram is a diagnostic tool. It is generally used to date the pregnancy (unnecessary, I know when the baby was conceived within 5 days), to determine the sex (I don't want to know nor can I see any reason to) and to look for possible problem diagnoses like placenta previa (the placenta blocking the cervix) or downs syndrome. Placenta previa often rights itself, but most women who show signs of it are talked into unnecessary c-sections instead of waiting and seeing. As for downs, if the sonogram shows signs (I think it is extra fluid in the folds of the neck or something like that), doctors proceed to insert a needle into the uterus and draw amniotic fluid for testing, which has up to a 2% miscarriage rate. I'm sure that sounds low until you realize that it is literally two human women out of a mere hundred who will lose their babies. But putting aside my horror regarding amniocentesis, I find the sonogram itself a bad idea. The false positive possibilities alone are enough to send any expectant parent off the deep end. Why spend pregnancy in fear? I know there are people who would end a pregnancy if the baby has downs, but there is no guarantee, regardless of what tests you use, that you'll get a definite or correct answer. Plus, stress and fear are bad for the fetus, and the test results can take weeks. In addition, there have never been studies proving that sonograms are safe for the baby. There is a somewhat reasonable argument that by now we'd know if there were a problem, but I don't entirely buy it. My midwife told me of a study (in England, I think) that showed that babies subjected to multiple sonograms had notably lower birth weights. This is very bad, because as appealing as it might be to have less baby to push through there, you need a strong healthy baby to do its part.

So: sonograms = unnecessary unless there are symptoms of a problem that can only be identified that way (for instance, ectopic pregnancy), and with enough risk of danger to contraindicate having one out of curiosity.

I'm not trying to sound judgemental. I know most people don't do things the way I've chosen to. If I judge you at all, it is only out of concern and I promise to keep it to myself. In return, I expect everyone to be absolutely OK with my brand of prenatal care, pregnancy, and childbirth. No interference is what I want, and I'll get it if I have to kill everyone on earth.

Rebuilding.

Despite the fact that technology has UTTERLY FAILED ME in the form of randomly wiping out every single bookmark I've collected over the last year and a half, I have swung full-tilt into Mad Scientist Mode, making my bookmarks better, stronger, faster. I was able to import my old (very old) IE bookmarks as well as go through my history (which I swear I set to 90 days but it must have decided 20 was a better number, the cockbiter), which gave me an excellent start. I remember most of the blog addresses of my regular reads, and I imagine that the ones I miss will free up some of my time. I am most disappointed about the hours and hours of research I did for various writing projects - I saved everything I found to my bookmarks, foolishly believing that would be sufficient. It wouldn't be so awful if I could remember what I'd looked up. Le sigh. That aside, I really feel that my new, improved bookmarks will be vastly superior to the old, cluttered ones.

If you know of any fabulous sites that you think I'd like, feel free to pass them along. For instance, I used to have a lot of little online boutiques bookmarked.

"War is not the answer."

So we're driving home from a guacamole party (theme parties are The Best when the theme is a food I like) and there's a vehicle ahead of me with this stupid "War is not the answer" bumper sticker. I'm not exactly pro-war, but the bumper sticker is just retarded. WHAT WAS THE QUESTION? I can think of several to which "War" most certainly is the answer. For example, "What is a declared conflict between two countries?" And that's just what I came up with sitting at a red light behind this idiot. Now I need to be in charge of bumper stickers, too. I am going to be really busy when I finally take over.

My list to do this weekend:

• Pick up utterly perfect vintage coat before shopkeeper realizes her mistake and charges more than $38 (IT HAS A MINK COLLAR!!!) (Pictures to come!)
  
  
• Finish Christmas cards (Still need stamps)
  
  
• Pack up gifts in bags (we are mostly giving small stocking stuffer-type things but many of them)
  
  
• Buy [gift] for The Dain
  
  
• Eat French food
  
  
• Panic over not having enough gifts
  
  
• Knit as fast as I can
  
  
• Remember that I can also bake for local folks
  
  
• Calm down
  
  
• Buy some cider (yum!)

That should do it. I don't want to over-exert myself.

La-la-la

Yesterday I was told, by a friend I haven't seen since I was all skinny and a smoker and definitely not pregnant, that I look at least five months pregnant. As I am not yet even four months (unless they are all Februaries, as I'm 16 weeks along) this seemed a bit off. Then he said it was twins and I told him to BITE HIS TONGUE. We only heard one heartbeat, and even if it was at only ten weeks, I'd say that's a fairly reliable sign. Only a few more weeks till we can listen with a stethoscope (well, fetoscope).

For all my fussing, I am delighted to actually look pregnant. I'd secretly been wishing it was more obvious, and POP! My belly poked itself out and is showing no signs of going away.

For anyone keeping track at home, I am currently calling The Experiment "Big Bad Baby Belly." It has a horn section.

By the way, I am supposed to eat 75 to 100 grams of protein every day. That is a LOT. You know it's bad when choking down two ounces (10 grams) of cashew nuts - MY FAVORITE - is a chore.

Anyway!

 
My pre-pregnancy measurements were 36-24-36. The Violent Femmes wrote a song about me! Now I am approximately 38-30-41. (The belly measures 37 around, making my estimate that it was larger than my chest very slightly premature.)

Sharon's Christmas Meme

Favourite Christmas Songs:

Favourite traditional carol: O Holy Night - makes me cry every time
Favourite 50s/Swing-type Christmas song: I am not choosing between Santa Baby and Baby, It's Cold Outside
Favourite modern Christmas song: Fairytale of New York
and a bonus:
Favourite Christmas movie: White Christmas, which is in fact THE perfect movie.

Think happy thoughts.

falling down is also a gift: no title for such a crappy-ass night as last night

Little Annika in Chicago has had a surgery that was supposed to stop her bleeding (and some other problems I don't fully understand). Her recovery has been up-and-down and now she is bleeding again. She is in the absolute best place she can be (the PICU) but I'm sure some prayers and good thoughts could not hurt the situation. So if you have any to spare, she and her poor stressed mama Moreena could use them.

And furthermore...

Victoria's Secret has just increased the limit on my store credit card. It's like they knew I was rapidly outgrowing everything! Bastards.

Also.

I have always had a very deep belly button. It is now very shallow. It is so weird being able to see the bottom! I expect to have quite the outie in the not so distant future.

Wish List (Updated!)

• iBook
  
• maternity clothes
  
• Origins products: Checks and Balances face wash, Balanced Diet moisturizer, Night-A-Mins, Salt Butter bath scrub, Never A Dull Moment face scrub, A Perfect World white tea skin guardian, Out Smart spf, Underwear For Lids in beige and pink (oh heck, brown too).
  
• new winter jacket (this is kind of in the maternity category) (nevermind, found the perfect one)
  
• new job for my sweetheart (which will lead to a new place to live and less stress for both of us, which is all I really want for Christmas besides the computer)
  
• yarn

I am being absolutely serious when I say that the iBook is the most important item on the list. I know you're not supposed to tell people what to get for you and that it's tacky to assume people are giving any gifts at all but too bad. Apple gift cards in absolutely any amount are what I want and I can't think of any way to get them without asking.

I am not asking for any baby stuff (though you can bet that's what I'd use yarn for) because we are still five months (and change) out from even having a baby and it isn't as though s/he will need lots of stuff right off.

Now that I've done my selfish bit for the day year, you must all post yours (except Jenn and Allison who are way ahead of me), at your blog if you have one.

Pretty!

Montenegro is the black bit across from Italy. APOD: 2005 December 7 - Europe at Night

My friend is gone.

Two weeks ago my friend Mark Seiler killed himself. If you knew him, I am very sorry if this is how you're finding out. There is a very nice memorial at his lsds page and you are welcome to email me.

I met Mark when I was 15, but we didn't meet in person till about a year later. I guess in that respect he was a precursor to my internet friendships. We communicated exclusively by letters (all handwritten) during that first year, when he was at a prison school for troubled teenagers in Poland Spring, Maine. (It wasn't actually a prison, but that is how I saw it through Mark's eyes. And the reality is that he wasn't there by choice and wasn't allowed to leave.) I think he'd already tried to kill himself at that point, possibly (my memory is very hazy) by hanging himself. Our mutual friend Tem had put us in touch to begin with.

We finally met in person at Earthsong, a Powell House conference that includes the graduation ceremony for high school seniors. Mark graduated that year, so I am guessing it was 1995. The following winter we recorded some music on a four-track in his parents' basement in New Jersey. Only one song came out well (the others were my fault) - a cover of The Cure's "Three Imaginary Boys" with me singing and Mark on everything else. In recent years Mark apparently got many requests for it in his work as a DJ.

Mark and I painted our fingernails blue together one weekend, and from then on he was never without blue nail polish. Mark liked hugs and gave them to everyone. He wished me a Happy Thursday every week for a long time. Over the last five years or so it might only be once a year, but I was always glad to hear from him. I didn't always write back, though, and now I feel regret over that.

Mark was a vegetarian but not a very good one. He ate mostly peanut butter and jelly, and salsa from the big jars he'd buy when I took him to Sam's Club, and breakfast food at diners; he always got the same as me - two eggs, scrambled, home fries, and toast (but his toast was white while mine was wheat or rye), and he drowned everything in ketchup because he thought it was a vegetable. He exercised by jumping up and down and I was always waiting for the day he'd come down with debilitating shin splints.

Over the last five years Mark and I grew apart. As I struggled through living in Chicago, then moving here and getting married and everything, he finished school in Maine and became a very successful DJ. He was already a talented musician and had recorded an album called "Book Of Dreams" that showed his incredible talent in electronica. My understanding is that he just kept getting better.

Mark liked giving presents and he loved people, but he was never good at accepting help. He could be picky and demanding and frustrating. He was usually depressed at some level or another.

I always thought he'd take his life. Always. But when thirteen years had passed and he hadn't, it came as a shock. And no matter when it had happened, it would have broken my heart - and it has. I miss him.

Baby baby baby!

(In case you were uncertain, this post is about my gestation.)

I totally do not have time to be writing about this, or indeed about anything, as I am behind on every single commitment I have. Seriously - proofreading job, days behind; reading/coverage job, weeks behind. It's really a good thing that I'm so pretty.

And speaking of pretty, see me glow: clickity-click-click-click

There is an alternate version available via email only in which I am not wearing a shirt. It is astonishing when you realize how enormous my chest is, with the belly poking out even further.

It took me over an hour to resize those two damn pictures, so weeks 9-14 may never be online. I really, truly hate my computer and wish to toss it out the window. Please Santa, bring me an iBook!

There isn't a lot to report, as I am still feeling totally awesome.

Had a horrible scare last Monday when I was told that the LEEP (a surgical procedure for dysplasia of the cervix) I had done several years ago gave me a 10% chance of problems including early (as in second trimester early) labor. I had fourteen heart attacks and then spent several hours in hysterics because I specifically asked my Chicago gynecologist if the procedure would effect my ability to have children and was told absolutely not. My midwife called Tuesday to say the chance was significantly lower than the obstetrician had told her unless I had the most severe version of the surgery (I did not). I agreed to regular exams (basically being felt up) to keep an eye on things. Had the first Friday and she couldn't even find the scarring, so I think everything will be absolutely fine.

Per Soupy's suggestions, the hat I knitted (actually I made two, but they're identical, so pretend):

The yarn is Blue Sky Cotton. I think the color is called 'Pumpkin'. Click the thumbnail for a larger image. Ignore my crummy bow-tying ability.

Also, here is a picture of me molesting the Thanksgiving turkey, against strong urging not to handle raw meat for fear of toxoplasmosis (I washed my hands so many times they felt like sandpaper by 10:00am).

I have now wasted something like three years (two hours) fighting with Photoshop. Time to do some real work.

If there's anything you'd like to know about my rapidly expanding waistline and the baby I expect to get from it, just holler. Maybe I can do a Q&A or something. (I'm still working on my anti-sonogram post, which should clear up more than you ever wondered about.)

open mouth...

So I just called my friend Jim to tell him a mutual friend of ours from way back has killed himself. Only, today is Jim's birthday and I forgot. I am a rotten human being. With my foot sticking out of my face. I guess this makes me a heel.

We don't do much.

The week of Thanksgiving was exhausting and in many ways just awful for me. I'd rather not go into details, so you'll just have to trust me when I say that the email I sent Katherine on Sunday was pretty much the electronic equivalent of breaking down and sobbing on someone's shoulder.

Instead of writing back to say "I love you, this too shall pass," which was all I expected or thought I needed, she bought a plane ticket to LAX and was here bright and early Tuesday morning.

An overview of our visit:

After I picked her up at the airport, we drove up to my chiropractor's office and sat in the coffee shop next door until it was time for my appointment. I don't think an adjustment has ever felt so good. Afterwards we drove home where Will met us for lunch. I think we just goofed off the rest of the day. Wednesday we went to Victoria's Secret where I bought some underthings that actually fit over my enormous behind and gigantic boobs. We also stopped at a yarn store for something Katherine needed. That evening when Will got home Katherine took us to supper at Ernie's. Thursday we went to another yarn store (my favorite!) where K bought me a skein of the most gorgeous orange cotton, which I have already used to make two identical baby hats. Then we had pizza with Will. Friday after a morning appointment with my midwife we had lunch and wandered the shops on third street (not the promenade, but the one near the Beverly Center) and I decided to somehow come into lots of money so I can spend it at my favorite shop, Polkadots and Moonbeams. Then I had to take her back to LAX so she could go home. I didn't love that part.

So that's a pretty sterile recounting of everything, and leaves out all the juicy details, gossip, and general goodness of having Katherine here.

And it was really good. It is really too bad that most of the time when friends need each other we don't have the capability to be there in person. (Er, unless you are some weirdo who actually lives in the same city as most of your friends. Weirdo.) I was really, really lucky that Katherine was able to come down here, and I hope that someday I can do the same thing for one of my friends. It's kind of (exactly) like being a superhero.

WOW.

The Simpsons House: Photos

Detention.

Have been to posh party. Had wonderful time. Stephen Root new best friend.

xxoo