sweet pea

Kwame's first Halloween was a success. He was so sweet and compliant about being a pea in a pod. All his peas fell off right away, but he was still really cute. We went to his cousin's school for a Halloween carnival. It was fun. His uncle Alain was Captain America and his cousin Jaden was the Incredible Hulk. I was a witch. No, that was my costume.

This is so I can link to it from elsewhere...

** First legislation, the HOPE Act, which increased Pell Grants to $5100, and later joined Senator Kennedy on the Higher Education legislation that passed July 20, by a vote of 78-18. It also creates the Teaching Residency Act which will create a school-based teacher preparation program in high needs schools to provide each teacher with a mentor, content instruction, classroom management skills, a master’s degree and state certification, and a 2 year follow-up program.


**The Coburn-Obama Government Transparency Act of 2006
is an act that requires the full disclosure of all entities or organizations receiving federal funds beginning in fiscal year (FY) 2007 on a website maintained by the Office of Management and Budget.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Federal_Funding_Accountabi...


**The Lugar-Obama Nuclear Non-proliferation and Conventional Weapons Threat Reduction Act
Authored by U.S. Sens. Dick Lugar (R-IN) and Barack Obama (D-IL), the Lugar-Obama initiative expands U.S. cooperation to destroy conventional weapons. It also expands the State Department's ability to detect and interdict weapons and materials of mass destruction.
Signed into Law on January 11, 2007.
http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/post/chrisblas...


**The 2007 Government Ethics Bill
http://www.rollcall.com/issues/53_17/news/19664-1.html?...
http://www.commonblog.com/story/2007/9/14/164837/331

** The “Democratic Republic of the Congo Relief, Security, and Democracy Promotion Act.
http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bill.xpd?bill=s109-2125

** S116 - Summer Learning demonstration project to provide summer learning grants and encourage new teaching methods.
http://www.pasesetter.org/demonstrationPrograms/nasd.ht...

and this one, moved out of committee just a few days ago:
Obama's Global Poverty Act of 2007, passed out of committee just a few days ago
WASHINGTON, D.C. - U.S. Senators Barack Obama (D-IL), Chuck Hagel (R-NE), and Maria Cantwell (D-WA) and Congressman Adam Smith (D-WA) today hailed the Senate Foreign Relations Committee's passage of the Global Poverty Act (S.2433), which requires the President to develop and implement a comprehensive policy to cut extreme global poverty in half by 2015 through aid, trade, debt relief, and coordination with the international community, businesses and NGOs. This legislation was introduced in December. Smith and Congressman Spencer Bachus (R-AL) sponsored the House version of the bill (H.R. 1302), which passed the House last September.
http://obama.senate.gov /



Amendments, that have all passed:

S.Amdt.159 to S.Con.Res.18 - To prevent and, if necessary, respond to an international outbreak of the avian flu.

S.Amdt.390 to H.R.1268 - To provide meal and telephone benefits for members of the Armed Forces who are recuperating from injuries incurred on active duty in Operation Iraqi Freedom or Operation Enduring Freedom.

S.Amdt.670 to H.R.3 - To provide for Flexible Fuel Vehicle (FFV) refueling capability at new and existing refueling station facilities to promote energy security and reduction of greenhouse gas emissions.

S.Amdt.808 to H.R.6 - To establish a program to develop Fischer-Tropsch transportation fuels from Illinois basin coal.

S.Amdt.851 to H.R.6 - To require the Secretary to establish a Joint Flexible Fuel/Hybrid Vehicle Commercialization Initiative, and for other purposes.

S.Amdt.1362 to S.1042 - To require a report on the Department of Defense Composite Health Care System II.

S.Amdt.1453 to S.1402 - To ensure the protection of military and civilian personnel in the Department of Defense from an influenza pandemic, including an avian influenza pandemic.

S.Amdt.2301 to H.R.3010 - To increase funds to the Thurgood Marshall Legal Educational Opportunity Program and to the Office of Special Education Programs of the Department of Education for the purposes of expanding positive behavioral interventions and supports.

S.Amdt.2605 to S.2020 - Expressing the sense of the Senate that the Federal Emergency Management Agency should immediately address issues relating to no-bid contracting.

S.Amdt.2930 to S.2349 - To clarify that availability of legislation does not include nonbusiness days.
S.Amdt.3144 to S.Con.Res.83 - To provide a $40 million increase in FY 2007 for the Homeless Veterans Reintegration Program and to improve job services for hard-to-place veterans

S. Amdt 41 to S. 1 To require lobbyists to disclose the candidates, leadership PACs, or political parties for whom they collect or arrange contributions, and the aggregate amount of the contributions collected or arranged.

----------------------------------------------

Barack has Written a total of 890 Bills and Co-sponsored Another 1096 since he started serving in the U.S. Senate.

Sappiness

Somebody tell me what is better than holding your baby's soft, warm self against your chest and rocking him to sleep, 'cause I don't know. He's so SWEET. I can't stand it.

Pics of Kwame

OK since the demand is high (ok, one commenter), here are some more pics of Kwame.

San Diego birth story

Wow! I'm not pregnant anymore. Anyone who reads this blog already knows that, I think. No time for a big update, but yeah, our little sweet boy was born on Wednesday, September 24, 2008, at 9:30 p.m. That kinda hurt. Of course, it was all worth it. I didn't have any drugs so that made me happy. Anyway, I am so in love with him. He is so perfect and sweet and beautiful and cute. He has black curly hair and the cutest little face and cutest everything. He makes the funniest faces. He is really a good baby -- he's not keen on sleeping much after the sun goes down, but he doesn't seem to cry for no reason -- he just likes to eat a lot and cries if he is separated from his source of nourishment for any length of time. (Like 5 minutes.) Here are some pics for your convenience.

amazing Sri Lankan birth story

So since mostly all I think about is birth these days, I was remembering a story that a friend told us about his uncle. Some of you all might have heard of him or known him -- I won't put his name on here, but we'll call him "L." "L" was a very kind, gentle, Sri Lankan man who I believe had been a tailor. He was a widower visiting the States from Sri Lanka and he met and married an American widow, very late in life. I believe they were both in their 80's when they married. Amazingly, they had around ten wonderful years together if I'm not mistaken. He sewed his wife's wedding dress and after that he sewed all her clothes. They were beautifully done. I know he was in his 90's when he died. I know some of his family, but I never knew him. Because of circumstances, I was present at a small memorial service to bury his ashes. (His wife is still alive but in a rest home.) Afterward, some were telling stories about him. This is the story of how he was born:

His mother was giving birth at home, as usual in that day, and for some reason, the midwife could not get there in time. So she sent an assistant who had much less experience. The birth went fine -- a baby was born, the placenta was delivered, and later, the midwife arrived. When the midwife got there, she told the assistant "show me and tell me everything you did." The assistant recounted the details of the birth -- how the labor went, the timing of the birth, the birth of the placenta. The assistant had taken the placenta outside and put it in a hole to be buried. The midwife said, "Show me the placenta." So they went outside and the midwife looked at the placenta in the hole -- and it MOVED. She picked it up -- and there was another baby in the membranes! Apparently that part of the membranes had not broken apart and it was not obvious that there was a baby in there! The mother had had twins and she didn't know it!!!! That baby was L. They took him inside, cleaned him off, and he lived for 93 or so years. He used to say, with a twinkle in his eye, and in his lilting accent, "Truly God brought me out of a horrible pit..."

sucking on the placenta

Not me, the baby. Today I had this test (unnecessary but I didn't feel like fighting them) where they make sure you have enough amniotic fluid. So I had my second ultrasound. The baby was sucking on the placenta! I saw his little lips moving. The nurse said he was probably just bored. Also, because of the sucking reflex, if something comes near their mouth, they just suck on it. They suck on the cord too sometimes, I guess. It was funny watching him.

You have to admit placentas are pretty cool. For the baby's entire stay in the uterus, the placenta gives the baby nutrients and oxygen, and disposes of CO2 and his waste products. The placenta is the only organ with its own life cycle. (Hmm, maybe skin has its own too, now that I think of it...) You can do cool stuff with it, like plant it under a tree, make a placenta print with it (see above), give it to your Bradley class teacher so she can show it to her students, or even...eat it! Yum! My mom sent us recipes for Placenta Lasagne and Cold Placenta Blended With Tomato Juice (mom named that one the Bloody Mary). I think she was joking about the recipes... The site I got this picture from was in Russian (Cyrillic, anyway), so I'm not totally sure, but I think this is what I think it is...

Anybody want to come for dinner?

the Marines washed my car today

And they did a really good job, as I thought they might. Being Marines and all -- I think they have to be good at like cleaning things and detail and stuff, right? I was wondering, though, why they were having a carwash. Sounds like they do it every week or every other. It's too bad that after we have borrowed/spent 700 billion dollars since 9/11 for military endeavors that the Marines would still have to have a carwash, isn't it? Maybe we should have thought our strategy out...

Or maybe they do it for fun for extra money? I wanted to ask them but I didn't have the nerve. What if they didn't like the question and they decided to do a civilian Code Red on me or something. Just kidding, they were really nice.

my husband is a patient guy

Augh, so pregnancy has been pretty good so far. I'm 8 months along, I was only sick for one, I have felt good other than that the whole time, and I'm not necessarily as big as a house (yet). I have had some minor issues -- I'm hot a lot and I sometimes have trouble sleeping. Emotionally, I'm a little, shall we say, closer to the edge than before. (Some would perhaps observe that I wasn't all that far before.;)) But today's little episode ended with me crying my eyes out in -- should I say the name of the place? -- OK, I will -- Hooters -- yes, that Hooters -- and running out the door.

It all started when I decided I wanted to go out for brunch and I wanted an omelette and toast and/or crepes and/or pancakes -- that type of food. You know, like a good yummy cafe. We remembered this cafe someone told us about recently and decided to try it. However we were a little slow getting going and by the time we got there, it was 2:56 p.m. I knew they closed at 3, but there were several tables of people in there still eating so I thought maybe it was one of those things where they let whoever in until the cut-off and that's it. Looking back, I shouldn't have asked, but the former server in me just couldn't sit down w/o asking. When I asked if they were closed, they said yes, even though the door was wide open and no one told me "Hey we're closed" when I walked in. OK.

So we get in the car and go to another cafe we know. I'm really kind of hungry by now. We sit down, figure out what we want, and the server comes. He says, "I'm sorry, no hot food now, just cold salads and sandwiches." Auuugh! You know when you want something very specific? And other things are not going to do? This phenomenon seems to be magnified during the gestational period. Actually I would have settled for a hot sandwich. I did not want cold stuff. I wanted something COOKED. OK.

So we go to the Mission, a very yummy Mexican/Americanish fusion cafe downtown. It's probably 3:40 by the time we get there. The server outside tells us they closed at 3. I'd be very happy with IHOP by now, but we both don't remember exactly where it is downtown, never having been to IHOP here. And by now I'm ravenous. And hot. And tired. And frustrated. I know I am not describing anything significant or important right now. I know that my life is easy when this is the worst thing that has happened in my pregnancy. I know that. I was still ravenous and hot and tired and hormonal. In the car, I tell Alexander that I almost cried when they weren't open.

So now we're driving around downtown, hoping to find both a suitable restaurant and a parking spot in the same vicinity. Not easy on a Saturday when you want breakfast at 4 pm. Well, I had given up on breakfast. But still not easy.* I did not want anything very ethnic, except maybe French (and the Mission does not count as Mexican). I wanted eggs or else a warm chicken sandwich or something like that. So we are driving and suddenly we see a parking spot, right in front of.....Hooters. Alexander suggests it and I say OK. I think it will have the kind of sandwich I want. There's a parking space. I'm starving. I'm in no position to be any more discriminating than that. We get in there. A few quizzical looks at my belly. Women are rare in there, I think, most especially obviously pregnant ones. I see with relief that there is a family with 3 young kids in there. We sit near them so we can pretend that we are at TGI Friday's and not where we really are. As we sit down, I realize that there is no air conditioning in this place, that everyone seems to be fanning themselves madly with menus, and the temperature is roughly the same in there as the earth's molten core. I think, "I can't stand this. I can't stand this temperature." Then I think about how hungry I am and how far we've come. And how it's hot outside, and I'll have to walk, and find another place, or find a whole different rare parking spot outside a different restaurant...or stay here. It's all too much. I say to Alexander, "I'm going to cry." He looks at me in sympathy/faint hopes that I'm just exaggerating. Suddenly I burst out into great, body-wracking sobs and bury my face in my hands. He jumps up. "Baby, baby, baby. Do you want to go somewhere else?" "I d-d-don't know," I sob. He says something else. I mumble something about being so uncomfortable I can't stand it (it really is hot in there, plus I'm really hot when everyone else is fine these days) and then I just get up, sobbing, and waddle out of there as fast I can. Halfway out I remember to put my shades on to preserve a shred of dignity. I have no idea what those people thought...

We get in the car and find another place, a nice cool, air-conditioned Irish restaurant/pub with hardly anyone in it and yummy sandwiches, and parking nearby. I don't even cry when they tell me they've stopped serving breakfast. A major victory.
The end.


*One other consideration (in my mind -- Alexander did NOT bring this up) was money. The originally-recommended cafe was recommended for its inexpensiveness and its yumminess. Downtown there are several way overpriced touristy bar/grill places that probably spend way more time on their drink recipes than their food. I didn't feel like spending $30 to eat mediocre food when our original plan was for good, cheap breakfast.

country folks

We're trying out a more country style, do you like it? OK, not really - it was a moving-to-Texas-going-away party for Mya, Kiron & Grady. It was amusing to me that the most countrified song the band played (made up of some of our talented friends) was "I Walk the Line" by Johnny Cash -- other than that it was mostly Eagles and Creedence Clearwater Revival. I was also unable to find any cowboy hats for Alexander at the two second-hand stores I went to - so we settled for a hat he owns that's made of straw or something.

35 weeks

So Jay Are said I should post a pic of my pregnant self...so here's one we took last night. I think the belly looks smaller when it's covered by a shirt. I feel bigger than this...




Then, there's Alexander...

Medals and Expectations

Isn't it interesting the great variations among expectations (in everything in life, but specifically, because I'm thinking about it), in the Olympics? Some athletes work so hard and never make the Olympics. To them, just getting on the Olympic team in their sport would be the greatest accomplishment. They don't dream of medaling, maybe not of getting past the first round of anything, maybe not even of playing (depending on their sport), but getting on the team -- that's a huge huge victory. Then there are the ones who are pretty sure they'll make the team, but they would like to finish well, beat a personal best, or win one game or match. If they do that, they will be ecstatic. They know they're not anywhere near medal contention. They're just happy to be there. Then there are those (these are my favorite) who have an outside chance of winning a medal, but everything would have to be just right and the stars would have to align and they'd have to have the best performance of their life, and someone else would have to mess up. They are the ones who look ecstatic receiving a bronze medal stand and who may never ever get one again.

THEN there are the ones (and I'm not knocking them, I'm just listing them) who are at the top of their sport; they have world records, other gold medals, maybe, and everyone EXPECTS them to medal, and really the only thing they'll be happy with is gold. Isn't it strange? To them, a silver is like losing. In some sports, it really is losing, like the team sports with matches (soccer, basketball, etc.) unlike in races. You don't lose a race when you get silver, you come in second. But when you get silver in soccer, you lost a big huge game. Tonight I saw video online of the womens' US and Brazil gold medal match. Apparently the Brazilians actually outplayed the US team, but ultimately the US got an overtime goal. I saw three Brazilian players sobbing, distraught. They lost. They played really hard and they lost. When they got their silver medals, they were classy and tried to smile, and mostly did, but their great disappointment was obvious.

And Michael Phelps would have been really bummed, most likely, if he had only gotten seven golds. Crazy, huh? It's all about expectations.

I love cheap dates

Tonight Alexander and I took two chairs, stopped by the store for some drinks, dark chocolate, and strawberries, and went to the beach (of the bay, not the actual ocean, but good enough). We asked a guy if we could share his bonfire, and he said yes. His friend came back and we talked to them a little bit but mostly just enjoyed their fire. It was lovely weather, not windy, just cool enough so that the fire felt good, and the smell of the ocean and the sound of the little bay waves(mostly from the wakes of night boaters) was peaceful and perfect. The lights from some night kayakers looked like a bunch of tiny blue lanterns floating on the water. On our way home, we saw that the fireworks from SeaWorld had just started, so we parked and took out our chairs again and watched them on the beach until the end. Then we went home.

finally! the perks of expectant motherhood

It took me a really long time to show or to show very much. I wanted to look pregnant RIGHT AWAY so that people would open all the doors for me and be all happy about my earth mother fertility vibes. (And so they wouldn't think I was just gaining weight for no reason!) But now my belly is way out there and people are so accommodating. They ask about the baby and guess how far along I am and tell me "congratulations" and all that stuff. Last Saturday we were at an outdoor concert. It was a situation where without one, I would have had to stand for like 5 hours (yeah right). We had meant to bring two chairs with us, but we could only find one at the time, and so I was sitting on Alexander's lap. (He would have given up the chair for just me, of course, but it was OK for awhile.) Then someone just brought me a chair! It was a situation where chairs were like gold because even the regular people were tired of standing for hours. That was so sweet. Then the security people came and took away all the chairs that belonged to the venue because they didn't want people standing on them and falling off and suing them. Sigh. People tried to intercede for me and save my chair, but they said "sorry" and took it anyway. No sooner did they leave than someone produced another chair for me! Yay. Two women near me admonished everyone around me not to stand too close to me or squish me. I felt so protected! I really like pregnancy. I think I'll do it again sometime. I guess kids seem to go along with it, though. Those probably take some work.

Music & Language In Utero

My mom was telling me a story she was told about a guy who was trying and trying to think of the name of this one violin piece. It was bothering him to no end-- he could hear it in his head but couldn't place it. I guess he was later talking to his mother about it, and she said, "Oh, I practiced that song on the violin all the time when I was pregnant with you." Which is kind of cool. So anyway I'm finally getting around to putting headphones on my belly and playing music for babycakes. We're starting with some Chopin and Beethoven but I am going to broaden it and throw some other genres in there. But I think I will do an experiment with *one* song and play it for him almost every day and then see if that song is relaxing to him after he's born or maybe helps him go to sleep or something. Would be too bad if he hated the song I picked and it was like when they torture people by playing the same awful music all the time into their prison cell. Talk about not being able to get away.

Alexander is going to speak only French (or at least no English) to the baby -- he's starting it now. Some studies say it's easier for the kid to assimilate multiple languages at once if he associates a certain language with a certain person. Also, since we don't both speak French, he's going to hear a lot of English, so there needs to be a steady supply of French. Otherwise it might get sort of forgotten/tossed by the wayside. Apparently they can also learn more than two just as easily...so we'll see if we decide to add a third one. I would like it if he learned one of Alexander's African languages, but we'd have to be pretty dedicated to make that happen. Then, again, I'll be happy if we can just keep him -- I was going to say "clean and dry" but obviously that's not going to happen -- OK, if we can just keep him.

All those times I thought I was out of shape? I wasn't.

NOW I'm out of shape. Breathing hard from just walking? This is getting very frightening. I suppose it's no mystery because I work out perhaps two times per week. If that. Sometimes one. I think this is my cue to start doing something with myself. Although I generally feel good, I don't *feel* like working out, and my standbys -- running and cycling -- are sort of by the wayside right now. Well, I could run, but it's not as comfortable anymore (even though I have handy contraptions that strap things down and keep the belly in place... :-) ) and I'm so HOT that I want it to be cold outside before I run. And it's not really cold out these days, even if it's not burning up. Walking is what I should be doing. Or going to the gym but I have all these excuses...I can't get there until Alexander comes home, and then I don't feel like it by that time.

I gave up the bike for now (I think I can ride it home from the birth center, though*) because even though Alexander and my mom told me they didn't think I should ride it, I decided not to listen to them because I think both of them are somewhat over-cautious. I think they would have me stay in a locked castle all day and do needlepoint. However, when the midwife -- who I consider fairly liberal in these matters -- told me she would not recommend it, I decided to cave in. :-( The bike was great for transportation, not to mention exercise. I guess the worry is that if I fell or got hit by a car, the consequences could be bad. I guess I can understand that. So anyway, here goes: I resolve to walk 4x per week for 45 minutes or more. That, surely, is doable. I'll check in in a week.


*just kidding, moms

the myth debunked

So when we went to our family reunion in Denver recently, Alexander went whitewater rafting with all the able-bodied people. When they got back, he showed me this video. It really looks like him, but I am still wondering if it's fake photography or something. This from the guy who doesn't even get in the pool???

rock climbing

We went climbing this Saturday. Just kidding, Mom, Alexander went climbing and I hiked along. It was his first time and he was really good at it. I was not surprised, given his long arms and legs and strength/weight ratio. Good thing he liked it, because we had already bought his helmet and harness. Here are some pics. I'm not sure what the above exercise was, but perhaps that's how he limbers up...

Happy 4th of July

We spent a lovely day relaxing by a pool, eating, and hanging out with friends. Then we were too tired to go watch fireworks. :-) I figured out why Alexander is not that into the beach and didn't really WANT to go to the pool festivities, but went for me and enjoyed himself: he doesn't like getting in the water. Wow. Well that would explain it. I always thought he got too hot or some such issue, but not liking the water sort of puts a damper on beach and pool activities. Good thing we're buying one of those canopy things for the beach so he can go with me and stay in the shade and read a book and pretend he's at home or something. You live in San Diego, pal; if you didn't want to go to the beach maybe you shoulda moved to Kansas. :-) He's a good sport, though, 'cause he goes when I really want to.

tae kwon do in the uterus; new apartment

Woohoo, the baby finally kicked me so I could feel it! He was kicking a lot. Alexander says he must be a little ninja or something. My mom said maybe he should play for the 49ers. Which could be a good idea because when it used to matter (when you lose every game by like 30 pts, people don't talk about special teams as much it seems), they have sometimes lacked in the kicking department.

And we got news today that we got into the apartment we wanted -- and it has a dishwasher AND a washer/dryer inside the unit.. And two bedrooms. And two bathrooms. It's funny how you go back and forth with these things. I've had so many different stages of my life, some where I had those things and some where I did not, for various reasons. I'm hoping to stay in the "have them" stage for awhile now. But for instance my parents don't have either one right now either, for another few weeks or so. So there! It's in the neighborhood we wanted --cute cafes and stuff. So that is my exciting update for the week.

in case you feel like you did something dumb lately...read this and you will feel better

Sooo.....we go to the storage place on Saturday to store some nice baby stuff (crib, toys, potty training chair, diaper pail, etc.) given to us by Alexander's bro and sister-in-law. Except (this part wasn't my fault) Alexander sort of misplaced the keys to the lock, so we went planning to break the lock with a hammer and a screwdriver (great plan, I know, but it was a cheap lock. Stuff like that always works in the movies...or so I've heard...) So after a couple of blows we decide to go buy a bolt-cutter. Here is where I become a complete idiot: it is hot, I am pregnant, and I don't feel like being left alone to watch the stuff. I also don't feel like going by myself to get the bolt cutters. Alexander would have let me do either one. So I convince him that we will leave the stuff in the indoor hallway and come right back and no one will take it. We don't tell the Storage Lady (of whom I'm sort of scared because she's...I don't know, abrupt and stuff ) I reasoned that the stuff itself except the crib is not THAT valuable, and who would take it?

Well, it took longer than we thought (no bolt cutters at the first place; I had forgotten to send a doc to my employer the night before, and I had to go home and send it) and when we got back....this part is a shocker, sit down: no stuff. I went to the rental office and asked the Storage Lady if she knew anything about some stuff left in one of the interior hallways. "What stuff?" she says sternly. "Baby stuff," I say. Her daughter, who is in the office with her, looks immediately horrified and clamps her hand on her mouth. Storage Lady says, "Why didn't you tell me???!!!?!" I say, "Well, did someone take the stuff?" She says, "Yeah, I think someone took it." I say, "Well can you call them and ask them to bring it back?" She says, "They weren't customers." I say, "They weren't customers....just random people walking around the storage place?" She admits that someone who was with a customer asked about it and she figured it was abandoned goods and told them they could have it. I burst into tears. She became more helpful. She took my number and said she would try to get in touch with the people., and to come back at 1 pm Sunday. I couldn't believe I had been so dumb. So avoidable. All I had to do was just sit there and wait. Or go the store (gasp!) by myself. It's not like I'm usually so helpless. I like doing stuff by myself. It's just that I didn't....FEEL like it.

Anyway, around this time I remembered that we are supposed to give the stuff back after we are done with it so they can donate it. So. It was, um, not really our stuff to do as we wished with anyway. I don't know if I would have been so cavalier about the stuff if I had remembered that pesky little detail...sigh. Anyway, due to the avoidableness and extreme stupidity of it, and the very real possibility that we might never see the stuff again, and the thought of having to explain this to bro and sis-in-law...I couldn't really stop crying when we were at the place, even though Storage Lady told me to.

Update: Storage Lady called me back later Saturday and the lady said she would bring it all back. Today, Sunday, we went and lo and behold, there it all was. I have never been so happy to see a dusty potty training chair in all my life.

So, do you feel better now?

PS: Sister-in-law, I don't think you read or know of this blog. If you somehow stumble upon it, um, wasn't this a great happy ending? Heh heh...

Random things that serve the purpose of putting a new post up...

Overheard at the café while I work:

--Impediment – what does it mean?
--Impediment, like impending?
--Impediment.
--It’s like something that’s about to happen to you.

Asked to me in café by person of dubious health and hygiene and apparent history (and present?) of substance abuse:

Do you have a cell phone I can borrow?

I couldn’t figure out how to answer because I didn’t want to lend her my cell phone, because (this part makes me feel really guilty) I didn’t want her hands on it, which looked really germy, and I didn’t know if she would like steal it or call somewhere that would cost money and because I didn’t really want her to make drug dealing calls on it…in short I didn’t want to lend it to her. But I DID have a cell phone, and it WOULD be possible for her to borrow it, so I didn’t know what to say. It seemed like “no” would be a lie….but then I was rescued by the café worker who told her not to ask people because it makes them uncomfortable…and then I realized that if that happens again and I don’t want to lend it, I can just say, “No,” which means “No you may not borrow it,” not “No I don’t have a cell phone that is possible to borrow.” Whew.

baby boy profile and foot :)

Isn't he cute?

There are times

There are times. There are times, like when you go for an ultrasound and you see your little baby swimming around and yawning, and clenching his fist, and then waving at you, and sticking his foot up in the air and then crossing his legs. When your husband tells the radiology tech, "Can you make my wife some copies of these pictures? Because these are mine," and tucking them in his shirt pocket. When you go out to eat to celebrate and he tells the server, "Oh would you like to see some pictures of my son?" And without waiting for an answer shows her the whole string of blurry images, pointing out the profile, the yawning mouth, and the one that shows us that he's a boy. Sitting there at the table together, and thinking about your baby and how he is really real, a little tiny person in there. When you know that along with great times there will be awful times, and victories and failures, and joy and sadness, and ordinary ordinary days, there are times. There are times when all's right with the world.

Zaniness

Alexander's sense of humor is so zany sometimes. He cracks me up all the time. Just now he says to me from the kitchen, "The dish I'm making is called Ethanol, what have you done? -- you'll soon find out why. But you can't come in the kitchen." I did go into the kitchen earlier and I saw a can of corn. I think that's the connection -- ethanol production being not that environmentally sound after all and causing corn prices to skyrocket and a bunch of other related unintended consequences. Update: yes, that's what it was. Some chicken with a sauce that included corn. "There woulda been a lot more corn in there if it wasn't for ethanol," he told me.

The other Sunday, one of our friends was saying that she didn't feel like going back to work the next day. Talking to Alexander about it later, I was sympathizing and remembering when I felt that way. Everyone gets the Sunday night blues or whatever, but I used to wish I could get in a car accident and be hospitalized so as to not have to go to work...that's bad. But anyway, point being, Alexander says, "Yeah, I bet Red Fred (my dad) never felt like that! I bet Red Fred always had his hammer and his ----what's that thing called babe?" "A sickle?" "Yeah, I bet he always had his hammer and sickle right by the door on Sunday night, ready to go! A true comrade!" Who would think of that?

His speeches are another source of amusement for me. Some are one-time wonders, and others are old favorites that he launches into when the mood strikes him. Some are mostly nonsensical and others actually have a point. His "Morehouse Man" speech usually comes up if he is challenged about something. "What are you talking about? I'm a Morehouse man! What do you think this is, babe? You might be able to try that on some people, but oh no! Not me!" Then he will add some substance about whatever issue is at issue. To wrap up, he might remind you that he is a Morehouse man, in case you forgot, and then finish with "You can always tell a Morehouse man one or two things, but you can't tell him much!"

Emotionalness; the ten-month myth

I think I posted that I didn't think I was more emotional than before. Ha! Those days are gone. This week I cried because Alexander didn't want to leave the house soon enough to get food with me (he wanted to leave in 15 minutes, I wanted to leave in zero minutes), and because of some other things that are too dumb to mention, not that that has stopped me yet. I'm 16 weeks now, yay. Which, while we're on the subject, is not four months. It's between 8 and 12 days less than four months.

It's funny how many people have said to me, "You are really pregnant for 10 months." (Because you're pregnant for 40 weeks.) You're not. You're pregnant for nine months and maybe a few days. Four weeks does not equal a month. Four weeks is 28 days. Most months have 31 days. So that's 2 or 3 extra days you have to add to every four week block to make it a month. So if you keep insisting that every four week block is as long as a month, at the end of all the ten four-week blocks you have to subtract the 2 or 3 days that you have been adding to each block if you are calling it a month. (We'll skip February but the point is still valid.) So, 2 or 3 x 10 = 20 or 30 days. Subtract 20 or 30 days from "ten months" and you get nine months and some days. Voila! Also....if you're pregnant for 40 weeks and also for ten months, and there are fifty-two weeks in a year, then after the 40 weeks there are still twelve weeks left (3 months, minus 6 or 9 days) in the year. If you were pregnant for 10 months, that would mean that there were almost 13 months that year. So I know this is obvious to most people, but at least three or four people have told me the ten-month myth. So. There you go.

stuff you really like doing that you're not very good at*

Someone asked about this on a message board and my first thought was that there is a whole bunch of stuff I like doing at which I do not excel. Mostly sports, come to think of it. Snowboarding, playing hockey and soccer (OK on defense, but really not that great at scoring goals, also not the fastest sprinter you ever saw), drawing stuff -- when I was playing that online game that's like Pictionary (isketch?) once, someone said, "Easy there, Picasso," 'cause my drawing was so bad... As I pondered the concept, I decided it's good if you love something you're not good at, because that means you're a good loser and that you do things for some reason other than glory or whatever. To comfort myself, I decided these things. So, do you love doing stuff you're not good at?


*I know I ended this sentence with a preposition and I do not care.

fond nostalgia for something you didn't like the first time around

This is a funny phenomenon I've noticed in my own experience. The phenomenon actually comforts me when people talk about how great something was in the past (like before my time) and they lament that it will never be that good again, or whatever, and I realize that sometimes maybe they're just nostalgic for that time, but it wasn't all THAT great. The passage of time makes us romanticize stuff. Anyway, point being, here is one of the areas in which I have noticed it:

When I was younger, say, about 13, 14, 15, I didn't really like country music. (I'm still not a huge fan -- I don't listen to it on the radio or buy it -- but I'm not against it -- if someone shows me a good song, I might like it.) I would not have chosen to listen to country out of all the choices available. However, a good number of my friends at that time did like it. On long trips and such, I was "forced" to listen to it because, say, the driver and owner of the car liked it. Fine. At the time I don't know if I grumbled aloud (probably) or maybe just lightheartedly made fun of it. Anyway, now, the very songs that we listened to, I really like. I love listening to one specific Hank Williams, Jr. CD. Every song on there is great! And it reminds me of fun ski trips and being on vacation and laughing and stuff. Isn't that silly? At the time I would have died rather than like it. I'm nostalgic for something I didn't like. Did I really not like it? Or did I not want to like it? Or what? I really remember not liking it that much. But now, it just gives me good warm memories. Funny...

remember when I wondered why people have big houses?

I wonder if it's so they don't have to store the bike in the kitchen, the crock pot and the blender on the kitchen table, and the recycling in the closet. That might be it. I'm starting to see. We have gathered more stuff and at this point it is virtually impossible to have everything put away. There's not a place for everything. When people come over we do this weird shuffling which usually involves putting stuff in the bathtub. If they are overnight guests, we have to be really strategic. So, yeah. I get it. At least, I get the idea of a little more space than THIS. We are planning to hold on to this cheap rent for another few months and then maybe when I'm 7 months along, move into a two-bedroom apartment. (I plan to take a supervisory role in the moving process.) My requirements are: washer/dryer inside the unit, bathroom, dishwasher, in that order. It's a renter's market, so I think we will be able to find something without going broke. I'm excited about the novelty of walking to the washing machine and dropping in some dirty clothes without actually leaving the house. Woohoo!

OK, I remembered, and it is earthshaking.

Well, actually not. But: what I remembered is that the other night I was talking to someone about the emotionalness of pregnancy, and I said, "I don't really think I'm more emotional now that I'm pregnant." Now those who know me well might be thinking, "Now that's really saying a lot....NOT," and I would have to say they are right....I'm sort of an emotional person and I cry easily. But, with that said, I asked Alexander, who would certainly know if anyone would, and he agreed. In fact, he said, "Less." "What?" I asked. "You're less emotional now that you're pregnant." I agree. So....put that in your pipe and smoke it. Isn't that strange? But I have a theory related to this, that I will go into in the third paragraph. First I have to digress and appear to disprove my own point...

So for the sake of being sort of honest, I do admit that there was that one time recently when I started crying in the middle of Target -- I had called Alexander on the phone and asked what color helmet he wanted for an upcoming nighttime bike ride, and he said, "No helmet, I'd rather not go," (??#$%#$%@????!!???) and to me, since I'm carrying his child, that meant "I'm not going to do everything I can to stay safe so I can be around and not a vegetable for our child," and so naturally, I hung up on him, sat down on the lowest shelf of the aisle, and cried. When he called me back, he soon realized that foregoing the helmet would be generally hazardous to everyone's health, whether anyone crashed or not, so he told me to get the helmet. (Whew.) But THAT is directly attributable to the FACT of pregnancy, I think, like this weird protective thing where suddenly there's this child to worry about and you can't just freely not wear a helmet because you don't feel like it anymore because it's not all about you. And this possibly hits the mother first since she's the one whose body is incubating the little bundle of cells. So, what I'm saying about that cute little incident, is that it doesn't count as a random "Why did I cry about that? Must be because I'm so emotional these days," -- it was not random and it's very easy to trace why I did. So. Point being:

I know some people who were extremely very happy, like over the moon, the whole time they were pregnant. One or two of those were people who had some chemical imbalances that were later corrected by medication. (As for me, I have tendencies toward mild depression and an SSRI that works great for it, which I'm still taking... I explain that because that's how this could relate to me...) Anyway, this is my theory, and, um, maybe other people have had it -- I haven't looked it up: certain chemical imbalances are temporarily "cured" or greatly improved during pregnancy, because, I don't know, some combination of the pregnancy hormones supplies whatever's missing usually. Now, for the next part I know there are many interrelating factors, but: This would be a partial explanation, or an explanation in some cases, for why certain women have kid after kid when it seems that they don't really love them that much once they've arrived and/or their socioeconomic situation would indicate that maybe fewer kids would be a better choice. Maybe a woman like this spends her entire life very depressed/angry/hopeless and the only time she's happy is when she's pregnant. For someone steeped in an undiagnosed, untreated illness related to chemical imbalance, nine months of freedom would be like heaven. Well-worth the consequences. Interesting, no?

I forget what this post was going to be about

Hmmm. Well, that's never stopped me from talking in real life, so I don't know why it should hinder me here. I think I was going to write about something to do with pregnancy, but I can't think of it. Um, I am 12 weeks along, now, yay, and the little pollywog has lost his/her tail and graduated from embryonic status to fetus-hood. I went running today finally, for 20 minutes (I know, I'm a warrior), but...um...I've been working out roughly once per week. I think it's time to step it up a bit. I feel good now and am rarely queasy. So I think I got off pretty easy, all things considered.

Seriously, I had something to say. But I like it when people update their blogs often, so like a nonpost is better than no post, right? When I think of whatever fascinating thing that was in my head , I'll let you know.

When you have really good friends....

You can call them and ask to borrow -- not a cup of sugar, not a brush -- but their wedding dress. Yes, I did do that. I needed a dress in which to take wedding pictures, since we never did, and I sort of didn't feel like spending hundreds of dollars on something I wouldn't even be wearing for an event. Hers is really cute. So, yeah, I boldly requested and she said yes! And shipped it to me. Here are a couple of pics -- my brother Erik asked if there was trick photography involved since Alexander appears to be supporting my weight....hahaha.

Ah, a milestone

Vomit. Seems like a good rite of passage. I think it was the combination of stuff I ate. I don't know. Ick. Anyway, now I feel marginally but only marginally better. Somehow I thought you'd want to know that. In other news, um, I can't think of any other news. I don't think that was the last of it. I think I'm reporting this because I want everyone to suffer, not just me. I guess my work here is done...

If we could move in, this would be the perfect job

I'm up in Northern California, doing some legalish work for a good friend who needed help so she can get enough stuff done to go on vacation. I got more time than money these days so I was very happy to oblige. Working conditions are tough. We tumble out of our respective beds and work out of her well-equipped office upstairs, in our sweats. She makes all our meals and snacks, except when she takes us out for sushi. Her daughters are cute, very smart, and hilarious. Her husband is really nice too, but he's been gone on business. If I wanted to, I could get up and go to her gym with her, but that happens at 5 a.m. Gotta make that one a miss. I think I'll ask if Alexander and I can move in. Worst she can say is no.

Giants upset the Patriots 17-14

Wow! We caught the last 10 or so minutes of this game (radio in the car, and then actually saw the last few minutes on someone's TV) and it was extremely exciting. If I'm not otherwise loyal to a particular team, I'm always a sucker for the underdog, so of course I was going for the Giants. I'm really happy they won. What a crazy upset. Eli Manning somehow getting away from the pass rush and getting that throw off to David Tyree, and Tyree's amazing, ridiculous, gravity-defying catch -- that was awesome.

Alexander, who didn't grow up playing or watching American football, suddenly became a Patriots fan during this ten minutes, which was interesting. I mean, I've heard of Johnny-come-latelys coming out of the woodwork at the last minute when a team starts winning a lot, but come ON. "Yeah, babe! I'm a Patriots fan!" He said. When he was unable to name a single player on the team aside from Tom Brady, I decided he was probably not one of your more serious aficionados. When the radio announcer mentioned a player, he said, "Walker! See, Walker! That's my favorite player." Tell me his other name," I said. "I don't worry about that. I just concentrate on the game. How many downs do they get again?" Later we found out his name is really Wes Welker. I mean, not knowing your favorite player's name, that could happen to anyone.

Anyway, the Patriots won three Superbowls from 2001-2005. The last time the Giants won was 1991. So, yay Giants. And it's pretty cool, that the Dolphins are still the only team to go all the way undefeated.

Fitness and Pregnancy?

OK I'm going to try not to turn this into a pregnancy blog, but understandably, it's sorta on my mind at the moment. So. One thing I think about, one of the shallower things, let's admit, is that I hope I can stay fit. Or at least not turn into Couch Potato Mama Deluxe. I have read that at least at first it's OK to keep on with your normal physical activity. For instance, I am accustomed to running a couple of miles a couple of times a week -- sometimes more often -- lately, sadly less frequently. But I've run the last three days and I feel good and stuff. I wonder how long I can keep doing it? Anybody out there, how long did you keep working out, if you worked out during pregnancy? I know these are really questions for my doctor or midwife (and yes, I'm making apptmts so I'll be in there soon), but I was wanting to gather some anecdotal evidence from people I know.

Ack, so I have to admit I'm nervous. The other day I said airily to Alexander (is that his name on here? I can't remember if I gave him a name or not), "I think it will be so interesting seeing how my body changes with pregnancy. I'm not freaked out about it. It's such a miracle." What I really meant was "I wonder if I'm going to gain 300 lbs? Will people even recognize me? What if I never lose any of the weight? And, no, it doesn't threaten me that you have 6% body fat. Really."

I've never been...um...twiglike in nature, and the smallest part of me is the middle part --the waist and stomach part. The part that will disappear. The other parts, like arms and legs, and, you know, the booty section, let's just say they're generous. So I'm going to be looking pretty dang generous, I'm afraid. Ah, well. I know these are petty concerns. But I still have them...

I'm giving up caffeine!!

But only for nine months or so. Ha! How do ya like THAT? We are really excited. It appears that the incubation of 1/11 of the soccer team has begun. OK, OK, only in my husband's dreams are we making a soccer team. At the MOST, are making a basketball team minus one. I found out for sure today. And yeah, I'm like three weeks along. None of this waiting three months to tell people for me. Impossible. We called my parents before the two lines had finished appearing.

I have had a headache since midday from caffeine withdrawal. This is Day 1 of withdrawal. I really thought I wasn't pregnant, so I've been drinking my normal 2 large cups of coffee in the morning with a few diet Cokes interspersed throughout the day. Today I had one diet Coke (so as to taper, not cold turkey, the caffeine) and tomorrow I'm trying for no caffeine whatsover (except for that which appears in dark chocolate or other tasty treats. Not giving THAT up). There was some recent study about caffeine enhancing miscarriage risk....so I guess here we go.

I'm not sick (yet) -- people say to hang on for that one, because you're not always sick at first. I don't feel extra tired either. Hmm! Maybe that's because I don't have to actually get up in the morning for work. That's gonna change...I'm hoping to be doing a temp lawyerish job by next week. That will be a good test.

Happy Birthday, Dr. King!

To celebrate, we are going to go to the World Beat Center for a "free outdoor family event -- food, crafts, and music." I hope the rain doesn't make it miserable.

Burned Alive - veracity doubts

I wrote a book review post on here for Burned Alive - A Victim of the Law of Men by "Souad." It was a gripping story of a woman, born in 1957 or 1958 in a village on the West Bank, whose brother-in-law allegedly poured gasoline on her and set her afire to kill her as punishment for being pregnant out of wedlock. Her death would avenge the family's honor. I think that much of the story may be true, and it is certain that honor crimes occur in many countries around the world. The book's account of the cruelty suffered by Souad is truly sickening and there seems to be almost total complicity in the daily cruelty, as well as the horrific honor crimes, by her entire culture.

However, I promptly deleted the post after reading this review, http://www.antiwar.com/orig/ttaylor.php?articleid=5801 , which casts some serious doubt on some of the claims in the book. It brings to light many contradictions, some important, some not as important. Except, of course, that any inaccuracy calls into question the accuracy of the rest. The article notes that there is not a single cite, reference, or attempt in the book to offer any evidence for the many claims that Souad makes. Also, the book is entirely "recovered memory," because Souad had repressed the memories for 20 years before she begins to get therapy and try to remember. Recovered memories are notoriously unreliable. Sorry, no cite here, but you can look it up. The reviewer is rebuffed when she tries to get more information from Souad and her humanitarian rescuer; but as a result of her dogged attempts to get at the truth, the publishers have actually changed several things in subsequent editions of Burned Alive.

I mention none of the criticism in order to detract from the horrific reality of honor crimes; and I believe this woman did suffer what has to be one of the most awful experiences imaginable. However, I was duly, duly chastised when I realized that I swallowed the whole thing, without question, even though some of it truly did not add up, merely because it was written down. In a book. Of stuff on the internets I am more skeptical, cuz as we can see, any fool can get a free Blogger account and repeat misinformation without even getting off the couch to get another diet Coke. But a book, it has to have a publisher, and an editor, and cover art. Surely you don't make things up that you put in a book.

So! I am determined to be a little more careful and a little more skeptical in the future. I think it would do a lot of us good to think reasoned thoughts and draw conclusions based on actual facts and real research. It seems like many "positions" or "opinions" held by people these days are the speedy result of: 1) putting on, like a cheap hat, the views of talk radio idiots who are mostly interested in ratings; 2) taking as gospel the email inbox glurge that is forwarded endlessly, without regard to truth or facts; and 3) believing that everything the news media say is true, or perhaps that your own carefully chosen news network, and only that one, is accurate. Of course, when one sees or reads a report about which one has actual knowledge, one realizes that coincidentally, in this one isolated incident, they got half the facts wrong. But I digress....

Do you have a base for this?

When I was 17 or so, I was on this weird liquid diet where I ate/drank only 5 or 6 shakes per day. My brother and I were visiting our friend S and passing through the home of some other friends, MJ & D. At the time, I didn't know these other friends very well. I knew them mostly because we are part of the same faith.

I had my disgusting powder to make my disgusting shakes with me. They were best cold and blended up with ice and diet cream soda. Sometimes I had to make do with water, or with them not really blended. This was gross. Since we were traveling, I didn't have any diet soda with me. But I needed to make one of my shakes and since we were at someone's home, I figured I could at least have it blended up. So I looked around for the blender and found it, or at least the top part, the part you put the liquid in. I was holding my little packet of powder and the top of the blender and was looking around for the bottom of the blender. I asked MJ, the lady of the house, "Do you have a base for this?"

She paused, then looked at me strangely. "No," she said.

Hmmm. Awkward moment. OK, she has a blender in her home, but she doesn't have the most important part, the part that blends things. Not only that, but when I ask for the base, she doesn't even have an explanation, like, "Oh! The base, I'm sorry, we accidentally sold it at the yard sale," or "Oh! The base, it electrocuted two people, we don't use it anymore," or something. I mean, who has a blender without a base? What is the point? And when I ask about it, why does she act as if *I* am the weird one? But I am in her home and I don't want to seem ungrateful or rude. And I don't know her that well. So I just say, "Um, OK," and abandon my hopes for a not-disgusting shake. I put the powder in the blender with some water, put the lid on, and self-consciously shake the blender back and forth as one might do with a bottle of juice, trying to pretend like this is what I'd planned all along. She watches me for a moment and goes back to what she was doing before.

Sometime later, I find this out (How, I don't remember. MJ and S must have discussed it and told my brother?):

MJ saw me, standing there with the powder, and when I asked if she "had a base for this," she thought I meant the base for my liquid shake. Like, "Do you happen to have, in your house, the base ingredient for my liquid shake, even though I am merely passing through, you hardly know me, and you didn't know until today that I drink liquid shakes?" Awkward moment for her. Hmmm. What kind of crazy question is that? And how to respond to such absurdity while still being polite? She settled for "No" and a bewildered look. Adding to the strangeness for her was my obvious surprise at her answer. Then I proceed to shake up my drink without actually using the blender. (I think that is was on the counter all the time and I just didn't see it. I don't remember that part either.)

When we each found out the other's side of the story, hilarity ensued. When we saw each other after that, sometimes we would ask the other for a base. But time went on and I don't think we've mentioned it for years.

Eighteen years later (a week ago), MJ asks for my address so she can send us a wedding present. It just came. A blender, base and all.