Weekend Notes

*N.Lo spit up on my head TWICE.

*Had ten tons of leftover lemon ice paint from kitchen, which was most unfortunate, as it cost a lot of money. Turned lemon ice into LEMONADE and painted the backyard playhouse.

*Brought the WHITE paint inside the house and began touching up spots on the kitchen trim that are chipped. Found that touch-up job makes moldings look wonderful and un-touched-up moldings look even more horrible. Have not stopped touching up trim. Found even more white paint in the laundry room, foresee myself painting trim forever.

*K.Lo and N.Lo (dare I speak it out loud) had two very good nights of sleep. Consecutively. As did I. Sort of.

*I've hidden all the candy so my daughter won't ask for chocolate all day long. Or at least so I can answer, "We don't have any" and effectively pretend that's the truth. The candy is now conveniently located in a drawer right next to where I keep the computer in the kitchen. Don't anyone tell her.

*The new Smartini blog is super-cool and you should visit and comment a lot. I personally am a comment whore.

*Two very cool things I read recently are here and here. One is about Neville Longbottom and the other features several favorite movie/TV/book characters including Barney Stinson and Dwight K. Schrute. And Mose. They made me laugh out loud, like genuinely laugh, which startled me.

*The peas and cucumbers and the marigolds in the garden have sprouted. I have yet to grow anything else.

*My To-Do List for this week (prepping for N.Lo's Baptism Sunday) is approximately 10 miles long.

*My hair is falling out, which happens sometimes after being pregnant. Usually (I would imagine) only if your hair grew a bunch while you were pregnant. Which mine did. When I was pregnant with N.Lo.

*J.Lo has been making this ice coffee that is crazy-good. But I'm not really a coffee drinker? Because I get buzzed from one cup? So I've been super-productive the past few days and my toes are really tingly. That is all.

tactics

The Classics
1. walking, and other gravity-embracing activities
2. castor oil
3. sex

Dicey/Scary/Gross
1. acupressure
2. some kind of herb?
3. nipple stimulation

Murphy's Law
1. systematically unpack hospital bag
2. diminish supply of Tums, buy new container at price club
3. stop shaving legs
4. do not refresh toenail polish
5. purposefully nappify hair

interim

So, I'm just waiting for the next step. You know, the actual baby? All other energy and interest remains at a low. I find myself sitting around a lot, just staring at the fish. Hi, fish! I need to clean your tank...

I realize logically that this is a colossal waste of... something, but it's all there is room for at the moment. I picked a book to read (see sidebar), but haven't gotten very far. I'm a little behind on the DVR stuff, because the stuff I really like I watch right away, and the rest is just *eh.* I'm even mildly bored by the concept of sleep. I've done a few chores today. I've considered resuming my writing project, but oh, that takes such a different kind of energy. I'm on the brink--I could. I have a l o o o n g list of sections to fill in (it's a pillow book), and it would probably be so easy to sit down and just do it already, but.

In the meantime, I'm trying to enjoy the last few moments of whatever. Being responsible for just one little person rather than two. Enjoying K.Lo for who she is as Not a Sister Yet. Watching Baby N.Lo jam his heels into the belly (it's actually quite riveting). Imagining what he will look and act like and be like someday. Savoring the last weeks, days, hours of this routine, which I am comfortable and happy with. Not giving birth just yet. Not nursing yet. Not being (that) sleep-deprived yet.

I feel like, in spite of the odds, that if I concentrate hard enough, I could make my water break. It doesn't work. So then I'm left to wonder what in the hell it is that inspires the body to start labor. I mean, aside from the obvious, scientific explanation. I realize willing the right hormones to kick this thing into gear doesn't work, but I hope that focusing on it doesn't delay the process, either. Yeesh.

Overall, though, seriously? It's time. Come on, kiddo. Mommy can barely get up off the couch anymore. Time to face the world!

you know you're truly LAZY when

You are:

nine months pregnant
hell-bent on getting this kid out of you
tired of almost every aspect of pregnancy
just wanting to meet the baby already, and

before going to bed at night, you think,
Geez, I kind of hope it's not tonight,
because I could really use the sleep.

here and there

The little things: you can change your colors now on Yahoo! beta mail! Up next: will you show my avatar?

New vocab for Bug: "sucker." As in, "Your mommy is a sucker for giving you yet another popsicle this afternoon."

Love just for the title, but on the content, can't decide: "America's Most Smartest Model."

Although I did enjoy: that they right away kicked off "Kept Man's" Slavko and also that girl who everyone said was orange.

And: I love Ben Stein.

Snob: I won't read this stupid book I bought at Spring's Library Book Sale because I'm afraid it will taint my writing. If I keep writing. If I can stop being distracted by contractions and keep writing.

Anyway, the book: It's called Blessed are the Cheesemakers, and no offense Sarah-Kate Lynch, but that's a stupid title. I should have known better. Vapidly enjoyable chick-lit is one thing, but after 10 pages, I'm out. I hate some of the characters already and I think you're being too coy, stylistically. It's to the garage sale pile with you.

Weather: too effing hot for October.

Seriously?: I cannot get comfortable. Not for sleeping, not for just sitting around on the couch. Certainly not for walking or standing. I don't want to share anymore, it (the body) is mine.

a little bit more about the waiting

The thing of it is, when you get into your last month, you move forward in time monkey-bar style from your week to week appointments, which at this point are horribly uncomfortable pelvic exams, possibly with a smarmy and/or non-committal doctor that you hate. But, you get All-Important Information, such as: how many cm's dilated, what percentile effaced, and how low that baby is. This data is all concerning the state of your cervix, which you would never normally talk about in such casual and graphic terms--and hopefully you never will feel compelled to again, outside of pregnancy, because it's TMI. Honestly. But in the meantime, you can't help yourself, hanging onto it all like a prize and sharing it with everyone who asks and some who don't.

As objective as these facts are, however, it's all a ruse, a completely subjective ruse. Yes, if you've made any progress at all, that's a little less labor you will have to deal with when the time comes, which of course is a good thing. But, as far as when that time is coming? Do the data tell you anything remotely crystal ballish? No. In fact, you could have made zero progress since your last appointment and go into labor 5 minutes later. Or, you could have made a good bit of progress and be hanging out in pregotory for another 3 weeks.

You never know! It's all so fun! Weeeeeee.

With all that being said, I had an appointment today with my most favorite doctor, who totally looks like Virgina Madsen, and is at least as lovely, and she talked me down a little bit. Told me to hang in there and things, and maybe this general feeling of icky malaise that has hung on since Sunday will even out and I'll feel better for a bit.

Or, it could mean I'm getting ready to go into labor soon.

But, though there's been no cm or percentile change since Sunday, Baby N.Lo has dropped, way down, and in the end that is a concrete something.

I guess we could at least make a game of it by now, though. It is October and all, sooo...
Ladies and gentlemen, place your wagers in the comments.
Date?
Time?
Weight?
Length?

P.S. As I type this, K.Lo is snorting in time to the "Elmo's World" song on Sesame Street. Oh wait, now she's mad at me for laughing.

dear october,

If there were any year I would love for you to break your streak of general blah-ness, it would be this one. I don't always feel fair in saying that luck-wise, October is my worst month, because it does contain several friend and family birthdays, along with J.Lo's, and I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the fun in those celebrations. Not to mention Halloween! And it's fall, and the weather finally cools off from the oppressive heat of summer. So there are lots of good things, really, about you, October, it's just maybe cosmically? for me, I have great luck and high energy in the spring, and a general feeling of ickiness coupled with some bad luck in the fall, particularly October.

But maybe it's all a matter of perspective.

As far as Baby N.Lo, yesterday was still September, but I'm still exhausted from it. What I have dreaded more than anything with labor is the False Alarm, i.e. going to the hospital and being sent home. I mean, I know it happens all the time, and you live, and you have lost little, other than time, the emotional energy of thinking you're having a baby, and perhaps some pride. It is not, in the end, really a big deal. But here's what happened:

All morning yesterday, beginning early, like before the dawn, I was having contractions. Baby N.Lo is scheduled to arrive in about 3 1/2 weeks, so hello... kind of unexpected. And actually, he would be fine, if born so early--"they" say that at about 37 weeks, lung capacity is adequate for delivery, and your baby is still considered full-term. We're just a tiny bit outside of that, so I imagine (and hope) we'd be all good. Anyway, back to contractions: 10 minutes apart, then 8, then 4. When I had K.Lo, I had in my head just what I knew from books and classes and such: Go to the hospital when contractions are less than 5 minutes apart, consistently, and intense enough that you are unable to walk or talk during them. The intensity part just never happened, but the timing was there, I was a day past my due date, and so we went, and K.Lo was born.

This time, the intensity was there, as was the timing--four two straight hours, I recorded 4 minutes apart. And so I threw some more things in my bag, J.Lo loaded it all up in the car, left K.Lo with her grandparents, and off we went to the hospital.

Another thing you read/hear about re: labor is that you probably shouldn't eat a lot. I wasn't very hungry anyway, but I figured, okay, I'll have it a little bit of food, and it will be what I like... right? Had 2 donuts in the morning and later some potato chips. If only I had a camera to capture the look on my nurse's face. I totally knew it sounded bad, but what can you do. Anyway, after the oh-so-lovely pelvic exam, in which it was determined that I was 2cm dilated and 50% effaced, it was also determined I was possibly... hungry. So they gave me a microwave meal of chicken and stuffing and mashed potatoes, as well as a sugary drink, oj mixed with Sierra Mist.

Meanwhile, I am thinking if I am sent home because these contractions are really hunger pains, I will never live it down.

But, they were not. After eating the meal, my contractions did space out, but holy hell, they were strong. I don't remember them being that strong the last time until well after my water was broken. Ultimately, though, they must have been unproductive, because an hour later, there was no change, i.e. Baby N.Lo was not ready, and there was no point in staying at the hospital. They gave me a sleeping pill and sent me on my way--the idea being that I needed rest, and if it were true labor, it would continue regardless of the sleeping pill.

I guess, as odd as it seems to me, it was false labor. I feel tired, queasy, and weird, with no real contractions. I don't particularly feel disappointed that we didn't have the baby yesterday, as it's early, and at this point I'm not really in a hurry. He will be ready when he's ready. The nurse did say, though I take it subjectively, that she didn't see me making it to my due date, but we will see.

I guess I just feel a little like I've been through the wringer. Another WTF moment, if you will. Babies are weird, y'all. The beginning of a life is just as unpredictable as the end. It's just the Waiting and the Wondering that will get you.

So anyway, October. This year, maybe you could ease up on your usual antics? September 30th did not bode particularly well, although I suppose it just was what it was. In the meantime, if you could go ahead and arrange a Clear Sign that it's time to go to the hospital, that would be great. Rather than this whole vague contraction business--maybe some water breaking?? It would really make things a lot easier.

xoxo,
pensive pen

it's all in the pose

I speak the truth, both of these pictures were taken today, in the thick of Week 35.

This first picture just makes me laugh for how deceiving it is. Clearly, black truly can be a slimming color.

And the second, taken simultaneously to prove the first one wrong and to appease mendacious and andria. Here you go! I'm feeling (eeek) brave, very brave. Please disregard slovenly pj outfit.

preggotory

There are approximately 6 weeks left until this baby, Baby N.Lo, arrives. Could be more, could be less, but thereabouts. Am I ready? Mmm, yeah, sure why not. I have to buy diapers, still, the little teeny-tiny ones that are at the same time adorable and incomprehensible. I've got plenty of clothes, a year or more's worth, really, thanks to a gracious friend of mine who loaned me everything for a boy. The room's painted, the crib's got a fresh sheet on it, even, and of course has been evacuated; Bug will have nothing to do with it ever again. Bug herself is about as aware as a 19-month-old can be that she's going to have a baby brother soon. She knows there's a baby in her mommy's belly, though frankly, she thinks there's also a baby in her belly, in J.Lo's belly, and occasionally in my boobs. Ah, Bug.

As far as mental preparations, I'm getting there. My biggest hangup at the moment is labor, because though I've been through it once and it wasn't as horrifying as anticipated, you just never know. Whenever I thought about it in the moments leading up to it, the first time, I thought I might end up dead. But then when I actually went through it, I kept waiting for the contractions to feel more painful than putting in your contact lenses the morning after cutting up jalapeno peppers? And they never did. Although I did have an epidural, which helped immensely, despite it also being the freakiest part of the whole ordeal. Supposedly, labor and delivery for subsequent pregnancies is easier than the first time around, but I feel a healthy amount of fear is just that: healthy. And being prepared for complications, or whatever. Or even having one of the doctors you don't like being on call that day, that would suck, too.

So I've got to start reading, just to refresh. Although nothing in a book can truly prepare you for the actual experience, it does at least help to know the different phases of labor, which I have, as a defense mechanism, completely blocked out. And I have to pack, although at this point I'm running out of clothes that fit, so it seems to me that whatever I'd want to wear at the hospital, I'm going to need beforehand, right? I'm still puzzling over this one. Especially the underwear: I am totally running out of underwear that fits, and I am too cheap, too lazy, too stuck in the principle of the thing to go out and buy more.

In the meantime, it would be lovely if someone could paint my toes. And I can't wait to be able to roll all the way over, or even just side to side without feeling like the bottom half of my body is going to crumble away from the top. Oh, and the Tums, I won't miss popping those like Pez out of my giant Costco bottle all day and all night long.

All in all, I feel pretty ready for this baby to be here now, though I know in truth that it's trading in one set of problems for another. Heartburn for sleep deprivation, agility for patience and sanity, etc. A Bug who's frustrated because she can't have 12 popsicles a day versus a Bug who's frustrated because she can't have undivided parental attention all day. Hmmm. It's going to be interesting, that is the only given.

this moment in time brought to you by penelope

K.Lo: teething again, or still, or whatever. I feel bad for the kid because several are popping through at once, they take forever (weeks, months), and her gums are all swollen. She's just not her usual charming self.

N.Lo: getting bigger every day, and he's a kicker. Predict foot will be coming out of mouth by October.

Pen: tired, increasingly uncomfortable with sciatica, heartburn. Less patient than usual. And whiny, clearly. Not my usual charming self.

K.Lo and Pen together: a weary team. Outings are generally mishap-filled, so we tend to stay home these days. We watch Elmo until our eyes bleed.

House: pretty clean, but I gave up on the vacuuming and a few other things here and there. Should be presentable for kudzu, who is visiting today (yay!). Though really I doubt she cares about a few (or more than a few) wayward dustballs.

Outside: Scorching. Blazing. Ridiculous. I don't remember a day or series of days this hot in recent years. I mean, yes, it's August and it's North Carolina, and I'm hotter than usual this year with preggo heat. But sheesh. Yesterday, something was burning in ILM, and the air just felt like fire.

Cookies: lost again. Except not in that way. I baked a batch of banana-oatmeal-raisin-coconut bars (tasty!) for K.Lo's play group today, and when we left, I put them on the top of my neighbor's car. I predict they are somewhere in Castle Hayne, scattered roadside and hopefully not causing a scene. Whoops.

Top Chef: fun and fantastic as usual, but I wish that they did make the crabcakes, for one, and also that Sara would go home, because she annoys me. And Howie doesn't, strangely. Tom Colicchio grows on me more and more with each season. But it's all still not enough; I eagerly anticipate the fall lineup.

lost between PA and New York City

So, the big event contained in our trip to PA was a Saturday excursion to NYC for my future sister-in-law's bridal shower. Being 3 hours outside the city with a toddler, a preggo, and my 89-year-old grandma in tow, it was deemed the best option to hire a limo for the trip. A bus would have been nearly as much, and a car trip more... emotionally expensive. The limo arrived bright and early, complete with TV, stereo, snack basket and ice water to drink. Our friendly driver, who took smashing care of us all day, was Deb. Bug's carseat hooked right into the back, and we were on our way. Immediately I felt overheated, which frankly is never a good sign, not while preggo. In my hand, I held a bracelet that I needed help putting on, because the latch is tricky--but then I noticed a link was broken, so it wouldn't be wearable at all. J.Lo gave the bracelet to me for our first anniversary; it is white gold with diamonds, in a pattern of "x's" and "o's." I wasn't too bothered about it breaking, because it clearly could be fixed by the jeweler whenever we got home, so I just held onto it, with the intention of putting it somewhere safe in a bit.

As the world whizzed past, I retreated inward, into some kind of quasi-meditation, concentrating on not being sick, although sometimes you just know it will happen anyway. Finally I had to ask for a bag. I hate, hate, hate having to throw up, especially into a bag and in front of others. I mean, it's not your fault, but you're instantly and totally That Girl. No one wants to travel with a vomiter. Sorry, Baby N.Lo, but you have to take the blame on this one, because typically your mom can hold her motion cookies. We pulled over almost immediately, to a scenic rest area with a few trash cans to do away with the sick, as well as a lovely view of the mountainside. It is here that I think the diamond bracelet was thrown away, I must have let it go into the bag while simultaneously puking and trying like hell to keep my dress clean (which I did, defying all laws of Peneloluck). Or maybe I lost the bracelet during Round 2, where we pulled over somewhere on the NJ Freeway and I vomited into the weeds while cars whooshed by. Regardless, the bracelet is gone, gone, gone. I lament this loss much more than the lunch I lost later, on the way home.

The shower itself was really fantastic, in spite of travel woes. Bug, due to the long and horrible process of teething 6 teeth simultaneously, was generally in a bad mood, but had her moments. She made friends with many accomodating and thankfully non-threatening strangers in Battery Park. The setting was simply lovely, with views of the Statue of Liberty and crowds traversing to and from the ferries. We even saw Spiderman (hobby or occupation? not clear).

Appetizer choices were:

Mission Fig & Cherry Tomato Salad: Brandied Figs & Tomatoes, Frisee, Bleu Cheese Mascarpone & Citrus Dressing, or

Peekytoe Crab Cake w/ red cabbage slaw, spicy Asian peanut sauce

Against my typical judgment, I went with the salad, because, ermmm, crab cakes on a sketchy stomach, not so much. I stole a few bites from Mom's plate, however, and either way, you couldn't really go wrong. As my aunt attested, the crab cake alone was worth the cost of the limo.

Entree choices were:

Miso Glazed Chilean Sea Bass w/ Jasmine rice, sauteed shitake mushrooms & haricot vert, or

Filet Bourguignonne w/ Pearl Onions, Yukon Gold Potatoes, Wild Mushrooms & Veal Jus

Also a tough call, but again I played it safe and went with steak, which was fan-tastic. For dessert, each table was presented with a large fruit salad, and also slices of terrifically frosted, lemon-filled cake. The company was pleasant, with the exception of a particularly sour family member (no rhyme or reason, what can you do), and the bride-to-be was most congenial and lovely, and appeared to just enjoy the day. As anyone should, preggo-sick, diamond-bracelet-losing, teething, or no, on a beautiful summer afternoon in NYC.

because

When your fingers swell up just like the rest of you, you have to take off your rings.

It's quite vexing.

Sizing up is a tedious option, as in a few months, you'd just have to size down again.

And you don't just want to say to the world, YES, I am married.

Mostly it's just, without the rings you're used to wearing, day in and day out for the past few years,

and you're tired,

and you don't look/feel right anyway,

and your mind's already going,

it just makes you feel like you're forgetting something all day long.

And who needs that.

Solution: a $10 cheapie, 1/2 a size up.
Peaceful preggo mind? priceless.

can't help myself

Dear Past Penelope,

Though your musings about revealing/not revealing this baby's name were quite charming, it's too bad for you that Current Penelope can longer keep her mouth shut. I wanted to keep the name a surprise for several reasons, one being that it's fun, two being that people tend to be so much more vocal in their mean name opinions before the baby actually arrives, and three, because someone might steal it. But whatev. The name is common enough that if you want to steal it, go ahead. I won't be offended. We're naming our son after my grandfather and my husband, respectively, and you can't really take that away. Also, I feel like girl names are just touchier. Probably they're going to be more flowery or unique in some way that if someone tries to steal it from you, you should, as J.Lo says, have the right to stab them. With a dagger.

Anyway, without further ado, the name is:

Nicholas Scott (L-Beam)

He will probably go by Nicholas or Nick, because that's what I like. Say what you want. To me, it's rather perfect, and feels very right.

xo,

pen in the moment

pregnancy, halfway there

1. Perplexing: Getting called "sweetie" all of a sudden and a lot, by men and women of all ages. Do they think I'm 23? Decide just to go with it, as better than being perceived as hag.

2. Yee-ouch: Three finger sticks this morning at OB for blood.

3. Gained: 17 pounds.

4. Trying not to think about: how many more to go.

5. Name: decided on. Having such a hard time keeping mum, only soul who knows is J.Lo. May implode with effort.

6. TV obsession du jour: House Hunters. Have been DVRing all of them, have a feeling will run its course in approximately 2 weeks.

7. Movie du jour: Waitress. Love, love, love, can't stop thinking about. Went w/ Mel and Ash Saturday, going again w/ neighborhood mommies tomorrow night.

8. Effort to save $/Guilty pleasure trade-off: downgraded ISP to Roadrunner Lite--did you know they have this? It's not any slower, I swear I see no difference, but it's $10 less/month. Unless you download lots of movies and music, I highly recommend it. But then, Big Love is staring next week. My cable bill was less for a shining moment, but now it's exactly the same, because clearly I cannot control myself and subscribed to HBO. More for your moolah, so whatev.

9. Mean-o-meter: high. Was especially chilly to woman at Fresh Market today who caught my eye when I was perusing aisles for salad dressing. She chased me down to the next aisle, asked if I need help finding anything because I "just had that look about me." (And I knew she would, it was so weird.) What do you know, overly-helpful fool. Let me look around for my salad dressing in peace.

10. Temperature: hot.

11. Sleeping: a lot.

12. Current food obsessions: chocolate, again. Oreos, still. Cake batter ice cream from Coldstone. Also, trying to bring fruits back in. Too bad they're so darn pricey. Gazed mournfully at $6 tiny box of raspberries today at Fresh Market, decided instead on pears, kiwis, watermelon, and mango. Again, more for moolah.

13. IQ: dropping as usual, but trying to plateau it out with The Canon.

14. Dinner: don't feel like cooking, really.

15. But tonight: pasta salad.

results revealed: wahoo!!!

More soon, clearly. Must go shopping for blue clothes!

last day to vote!

Tomorrow is the all-telling sonogram, which will reveal the true nature of this pregnancy: boy, girl, tapeworm, alien invasion? Place your bets in the sidebar now. Here's what we know so far; old wives think what you will:

• I've already had one girl, which supposedly increases one's odds to have another girl next.
• This baby will be the fourth grandchild on my side of the family, all three so far are girls.
• When dangling my wedding ring by a thread over both the belly and the wrist, it swings back and forth, rather than in a circle. This supposedly means: boy.
• I can't tell whether I'm carrying high or low yet, too early.
• Also couldn't tell you what side the baby's kicking on the most, s/he's too little.
• Is the belly shaped like a watermelon, or a basketball. I don't know, it's just a belly. Depends on how much I've eaten, I guess.
• I'm craving things like hard-boiled eggs and fruit, but I also can't stay away from chocolate, because I never have before in my life--though notably, I don't seem to need it as badly on a daily basis.
• The sciatica's about to kill me. Does that mean anything?
• According to one Chinese Gender Prediction chart, I'm having a boy. According to another, it's a girl. Some consistency would be nice, people.
• I refuse to pee in a cup of Drano. Who came up with that test, anyway? Someone really desperate to know and/or someone incredibly bored.
• My skin isn't as broken out as it was with K.Lo. Fewer female hormones, so: boy?
• I'm growing copious amounts of new hair on my head. Boy?
• I'm gaining weight all over, rather than just the belly. Someone told me this means girl.
• The polls are ahead currently for boy, but I also know there's been some ballot box stuffing.
• It would be nice to have a boy after having a girl, but I will be delighted either way.

8 by pen

Even though we weren't tagged by Megs to do our Weird 8, mendacious and I, after sobbing a little, have decided to tag ourselves. Because the lists of weirdnesses between us are, I'm quite sure, endless.


1. I get really annoyed at J.Lo for picking at his nails instead of using a clipper, but then I do the same thing. And what's worse is, I will be the one to pick off a nail badly, causing pain, bleeding, and (one horrible time), infection. The infection, by the way, hurt worse than labor.


2. I'm going through a phase where I just want to paint one wall of a given room. Okay, so I've only done that once so far, in the den, but I really feel like an accent wall can transform the whole room without the time, effort, or expense of a complete repaint. Plus, you can pick bolder colors than you would for all 4 walls. Someday I'm also going to do the living room, and for K.Lo's room, I plan on keeping the top half the way it is (purple with polka dots) and painting the bottom green. That just sounded like a circus when I wrote it down. But it's going to be fabulous.


3. My cravings this pregnancy are: fruit, esp strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, peaches, apples, kiwi and watermelon. Sometimes I wonder if I really crave the fruit, or if I'm just thirsty? I still have a hard time drinking enough water. I also crave eggs, hard-boiled especially. All the other things I've mentioned eating excessively in recent history, i.e. hot dogs, pasta, pizza, and cheese, I eat all the time, even when not pregnant, so I don't feel like they count.


4. I am not a hobnobber. And name-dropping is such a huge pet peeve. I'm really not interested in who you know (unless they're like, a TV star, heh), where you or they went to school, what exactly is on your or their resume(s), and what kinds of things you or they own. I mean, I care, because it's you, and these things make up who you are, including who you spend time with. But if that's all you care about? I clam up. I back off. I find better things to do. Because clearly I am not interesting enough to be your friend. And that I am anti-networking, anti-status, anti-ass-kissing, and anti-materialism? That is exactly what will keep me from being successful in the money-earning world, in my so-called writing career, sure. I'm aware. I wish sometimes that I were more charismatic and inherently charming as a person, and that none of this hobnob deficiency or disdain would matter, but I am who I am, it is what it is, and so. I am okay with that.


5. I don't get invited many places, and not just because I don't hobnob. (Or maybe it is. Perhaps it's the lack of charisma.) I used to get really upset about this fact, like until a few years ago? Then I realized that, duh, I don't invite anyone else anywhere, either. Even though I am continually trying to be better about this particular social retardation, I still depend on others too much to do the inviting. On the other hand, I am a homebody, and don't really desire to go too many places, as it sucks the energy right out of me. I need lots of downtime, time spent watering the plants and watching the fish. Which is yet another thing that makes me boring, I think, but again, yeah, I'm all right with that.


6. I'm a sl o o o w reader. I always have been, and then the problem became worse with classes in English and creative writing. It took me nearly 2 1/2 years out of school (and it's only been 3, total) to not think so much about the story's elements and to just enjoy the ride, but I'm still slow. I just need to soak up every word and understand exactly what is happening and how and why. It takes time. This habit or quality frustrates me, though, and I so wish I could just breeze through book after book like so many of my friends do.


7. I love horseradish. I'm not so much a fan of typically "spicy" or "hot" food, at least once it's to the point of obscuring taste and/or inducing tears. But the heat of horseradish, wasabi and the like? It's thrilling, the way it kind of creeps up behind your sinuses to set your mind on fire. I could eat horseradish plain out of the jar, I think. When I stayed in England, most days I would go to this local sandwich shop for lunch and order a turkey sandwich with mustard, and this mustard, as is apparently standard in England, was laced with horseradish. It was so fantastic, and I've spent the past 8 years, with no success, trying to find mustard that will compare.


8. I don't like red radishes. Don't they have a similar bite? Can't really stand them, never could, despite that they're much prettier than horseradish. Radishes are one of the few foods that I avoided as a kid, but didn't pass on the Second Chance Test as an adult. Potato salad, coleslaw, asparagus, and pierogies all made it into the edible category, but radishes, not so much.

I tag Ashley and Johann.

oh noooooooo!

After tearing down the hallway wallpaper on Wednesday, we (my mom and I) were prepared on Thursday morning to begin painting. The shade was a lovely light mauve, not too dark for a windowless space, but also not too light, or too pink, or too purple, or too weird. From my imagination to my selection to our execution, it was spot-on. I was quite pleased with the project. Except for one teensy error in judgment, one minor little slip that I blame entirely on Prego Brain.

Don't ever do this: don't think that just because there's hooks under the paint tray made for ladder rungs that you can hook the tray to the ladder and then pour. Especially if you are indoors, and especially if your baby is standing about a foot away.

The tray tipped and fell in slow-motion, seemingly, and yet there was just no way to pause, rewind, reconsider one's idiocy (and lack of a dropcloth), and redo.

I'm quite surprised I didn't cry. Spilled milk, nah, don't worry about it, but spilled paint? It's another matter entirely.

K.Lo is fine, actually. Somehow she made it through the day, including the cleanup, the tracking all over the house (mine), and finally the subsequent painting, without a single splotch on her clothes. She wasn't too happy when sequestered to her crib during cleanup (no other choice), but toward the end she was able to rejoin us and even pitched in.

P.S. Should a similar incident ever occur in your travels, I do recommend a spray-bottle solution of water combined with Murphy Oil Soap. Or even the spray-cleaner version of the product, should you have had the foresight to purchase it.

some weird (and sometimes bad) things about me

1. I steal food from K.Lo. Pretzels, in particular, like the poor kid needs her snack stolen by The Prego Vulture. Worse, though, is that I feel very little shame. I justify the stealing with: the other baby needs food, too! I'm feeding both my babies, so. And I do always give K.Lo more pretzels, if she still seems hungry.

2. I can tell just by listening how to fill the container. As in, I don't really need to look when filling a glass with water to make sure it doesn't overflow, and I almost always fill the measuring cup to the needed amount without checking. I do check, just to be sure, but yesterday, for instance, I filled the container with milk to exactly 2/3 cup : Look ma, no eyes!

3. I've had Marie Antoinette out from Netflix for 3 weeks. This is about a week past my Watch It or Lose It Limit for movies; if I haven't watched it by 2 weeks, clearly I am not in the mood, I can rent it later, and in the meantime will get something else. But lately, I kind of haven't been in the mood for movies, period. I've been reading books. It's weird.

4. I find myself overthinking my responses in conversation, which of course makes me feel more awkward. Like, would I really say that? I seem to know exactly who I am on paper, i.e. my writing voice is my true voice, in all its many colors. But not in person, so much, at least when I think too hard about it. I guess it's like anything else: don't think, just do.

I guess when I write, I have time to think about what I'm going to say, and how I want to say it, whereas in person, I'm on the spot. I rarely do good with on the spot. And then, with writing, someone can read it and you might never know (and therefore never care) what they think. Whereas, when you're trying to make friends, how you are perceived and received is so much more tangible, immediate, and you might care more what they think. In a lot of ways, you can't care, because you'll drive yourself crazy trying to please everyone. But in other ways, it's impossible not to care unless you have skin made of steel. On some days, my skin is made of paper. On worse days, it's like I'm standing in the rain.

5. Every evening after running the dogs and letting them back in for a drink, I send Bender back outside. Bailey can go out or stay in, whatever she wants, but Bender has to go back out. It's the way she pants and gasps and sputters, I can't stand it. I feel like it's kinder to just make her stay outside for a little bit until she calms down, rather than having her stay inside, soaking the floors, and inspiring violent feelings. Plus, she does love it outside. Was that one justification too many? Okay--done.

little person!