today i...

am a white feather held aloft above an iridescent oil slick.

Today I...

am a steel ball barring that has turned into a cube. it came as a surprise as i was rolling along a cement floor in the groove and then i just clunk, clunk, clunked to a stop.

miscellany and hope

ON BEING HOPEFUL

uncertain: As in, though at the moment I have a hard unpleasant feeling in my stomach, I would hope I would not throw up…. I’m chewing gum and drinking chamomile tea (there was no peppermint).

back and forth: in fighting for sleep last night I talked myself out of malaise… no, m, your debt IS going down. No, M, you’re not a complete loaf, you work out at least 3x a week. No. no. no. There's hope. One piece of debt number at a time.

then: I wish we had digital tracking meters that showed the distance traveled. Then i could more spot focus what i need to work on... Oh you see self, it’s not so bad. In the span of your life look how much you’ve accomplished. Or, danger. Danger. Self. You have completely neglected french.

hopeless: quatre-vingt-dix-neuf... you tell me why that's 99. (4-20-10-9) (4x20+10+9)

another live report from the world of Bug

Oh, Bug. I fully expected that the transition to Big Sisterhood would be a bit difficult. Mainly, I feel sorry for the little one, because it has to be hard to have one's mommy and daddy all to oneself, and then one day and forevermore: you now have to share. She'll get through it, I know, and I also know that ultimately, this will be (should be) a very good thing for Bug. In a year or so, she's going to have a full-fledged pal to play with every day. K.Lo's got a pretty social disposition, and while you never can guarantee two kids are going to get along, I have a feeling that for the most part, they will. In the meantime, though, right now? It's trying times. For all the Lo's. Thankfully, she continues to have her charming moments, which keep all of us sane.

This past week's highlights:

Temper tantrums thrown: Countless.

Over what: Usually nothing.

Most questionable, laughable trigger: Scary blue sock puppets on a Baby Einstein DVD, inspired screaming, running fit down hallway.

Favorite new word: "Booger." Will chase you down with blue bulb, attempt to extract boogers from all noses, N.Lo's ears.

Approximate time it takes to go down for bedtime or nap: 1 (unpleasant, filled with willful resistance) hour+

Times she's tested our patience: Countless.

Best time had: At neighbors' Halloween party, dressed as Little Orphan Annie.

Best time had, runner up: At Costco, checking out pink retro kitchen, which K.Lo thoroughly appraised and deemed "Niiice!"

And also: Helping J.Lo build bassinet.

Escalated requests to hold baby (Baby! Baby! Baby! Hold?): Countless. Often preceding temper tantrum.

Terrifying moments of decidedly un-gentle handling of N.Lo: A good handful. Pulls ears, pokes eyes, touches that soft spot. Yee-ike.

Moments of calm: Bathtime. Any time N.Lo is sleeping in the nursery, far away from Bug. When watching Elmo.

Times I've wanted to bear-hug her, just for being Bug: Countless.

Surprises

While I gave myself the charge of writing out what my short/mid/long term goals might be: anything from getting off the crack fries to finish your blog novel… I decided to procrastinate and tell you about three surprises.

One: that I shifted from an INTJ (mastermind personality) to a ISTJ (inspector- which seems much less like me but). I find the shift unsettling. Either way it indicates I should not be an artist, and am not living up to my full potential as a human being. I am forlorn.

Two: I sat into the late night hours at my desk surfing the net. I realize it would’ve been more romantic had I been scribing a passionate love note, a heated stinging retort but nothing of the kind abounded and I’m going for boring dead as doornails realism right now. My window was open, ushering a warm breeze and the smell of distant smoke. I noticed movement on the wall and not 6 inches from me, brazen, lightly trod a big fat shiny black widow against my deep purple wall paint. It’s sharp pinned legs glossed and deadly looking. Eyes wide I drew my chair quickly back and the spider vanished. I got a stick, a cup, paper and lifted up my curtains. Looked down and saw it was trying to make an escape toward the floor. I would not dare to bring my flip-flopped foot near it. I filched it up in a cup. Locked it down with paper, which I could imagine it trying to burrow its venomous way thru and thus into my hand, quickly harrowingly ensconced it in a jar and showed the tale to anyone in the house who would listen. 6 INCHES! I say. It is a wonder actually given my urban farm that we’ve never been bitten before. I confess I find one every few months. I know their webs well and where they like to live. Method of killing I prefer is sprayed by toxic substance, followed by covered unviewable squishing when outside, then drowning. But this one! Climbing up my own wall! The nerve!

THREE: last night I squirmaly sat in my friends papazan chair watching the Office then Scrubs. I dashed out to make it home for L/O: CI and in my quick pace thru the barrio I hit the lights on my car, then closer hit the lock. I hopped in my car and jumped as I heard a small tap at my passenger window. I looked over at a small boy, with his little tapping fists talking to me thru the glass. I buzzed down the window. “Yes?” “ Hi, hi,” he said, excitedly, “How did you turn on your car from so far away?”

By then his older brother was at the car, in the shadows, curious. The boy turned wide-eyed to his brother and exclaimed that I had the power to start my car, motor vrooming from a distance. I explained that it was just a sensor, and that it didn’t start the motor, but just turned on the lights. “Cool!” the boy exclaimed. I fought the urge to explain also that he shouldn’t approach strange vehicles in which he was enamored with and that I could be a bad person and his life could be in mortal danger. He continued unabated, his imagination sparked with possibility. He said, “Well I… I… I like your thingy.” His arms drew back in a wide breadth of awe. “Thanks,” I said, and the boys stepped further back onto the sidewalk. “I like it too,” I yelled out the window, racing away into the night, laughing at the surprise and wondering why they weren’t in bed. I mean it was already 10:08…

today i...

i feel like a red apple sitting on a large mirror thats been left on a table outside. the mirror is getting hot so i try to scoot off it. but i just am tipped on my side now and rolling around when the breeze picks up.

today i...

i feel like one of those red and white buoys out at sea, bobbing on the water's surface, not fighting, just floating. the sea isn't particularly tumultuous, nor particularly calm. the sky isn't particularly sunny, nor particularly gray. no one else is around, just me.

riding the wave

Does it work:
Accupressure to induce labor??? Possibly. I just know I went into labor within 24 hours. For real.

Contractions: Definitely more intense this time. Although labor progressed more slowly.

The iPod:
Excellent for focusing during labor. For tuning out distractions, voices, one's (dear) husband and doctor discussing SPORTS. I used it off and on, with a mainly mellow mix, though during transition, I opted for higher-energy No Doubt.

Epidural:
Absolutely. Indispensible. Hurt, yes; was freaky, yes. But this anesthesiologist administered it somehow even better than I had with K.Lo, and I'm just, I don't know. Speechless. Eternally grateful.

So meaningful:
Presence of parents during labor, mom during birth.

Sheepish bragging rights:
Took just five minutes to push baby out. C r a z y.


Burst into untamable tears:
Approximately 2 1/2 days after having baby, just the same as last time. The inevitable hormonal crash. Brought on by K.Lo holding N.Lo, sitting all together on couch as family.

The next evening, when J.Lo suggested moving N.Lo into guest bedroom, instead of the Little Ones sharing a room. (Due to K.Lo being terribly difficult to put to bed.) After all the planning, all the work... before they're even really sharing the room... and the furniture we'd have to get rid of... and all the shuffling around. Really, it is a bridge we will cross if and when we come to it. But even in theory, I still can't discuss it without becoming completely, irrationally upset.

And today, while holding Baby N.Lo in quiet moment by self, marveling at how little, how perfect. Amazing.

Remembering:
In the week after pregnancy, it's best not to actively think too much. The thoughts will come anyway, and many will pack quite an emotional punch. Don't fight it, don't get too caught up in it, just ride the wave, as this too shall pass.

What it's like to hold, and care for, and simply witness a newborn, which is to say, wow.

Like riding a bike:
Nursing, multi-tasking while nursing, the art of half-sleeping while nursing. The learning curve has gone way up the second time around. While your new baby's personality and feeding style is different, the whole ordeal is a lot less mysterious, and you've got skills. Here, the universe throws you a bone.

All new:
Changing a boy's diaper. Think I've got it down.

Juggling a toddler's needs with a tiny baby's needs, with own needs. Still figuring this one out, suspect I will be for some time. And once I think I have the answer, probably all circumstances will change, requiring yet another path.

Out the window:
Long-term personal goals, i.e. weight loss, fitness, everyone sleeping peacefully through the night in his or her respective bed. Not even worrying about it right now.

Curiosities:
Why, after having a baby, does one's belly button migrate 2 inches north. And does this problem ever solve itself? Became pregnant again too quickly the last time around to find out.


And in other news...
Can I possibly love more, I don't know:
Heather on ANTM. Sweet, intriguing, the best results from photo shoots. Really hope she wins.

Pretention:
Recently joined ranks of Facebook after learning it is not as ghetto as MySpace, and one day looked up high school classmates. This one guy, who graduated a year early and incidentally beat me out by one spot in class ranking, the smug little turd, has no less than three Facebook profiles. The only difference I see are his networks, and possibly the general feel of his photos. One shows him in a suit, smiling smarmily. Another, playing cello in a field. The third, he's all "weekend out with my hot blonde girlfriend." Each network, of course, is something along the lines of "Princeton Alum," or "Cornell Alum" (Andy on The Office, anyone?). Basically, it's a big WTF and confirmation that some things never change--because it's all about status, baby.

TV:
I have dropped (sadly, I know) Pushing Daisies from the lineup. It's not that I don't enjoy it and think it's immensely clever. But I take too long to watch it, and half the time either don't pay attention or fall asleep. Maybe it's just not for me right now. Maybe a DVD Netflix marathon, someday.

on buttons

pictured: i imagine penelope entrenched. asleep in a rocking chair with nlo and klo pulling at her arm.

buttons: in a recent email battle btw someone i cannot donot understand i reflected upon 2 of my hot buttons as i did a long lap around the office with my friend to the bathroom- 1. silence, it's completely menacing and drives me nuts. you can't argue with someone who retreats. you just can't. my natural reaction is to blow them up via launched miss'iles. and why, oh why would i want to just wait for them to come back? i've never been good at waiting. so why bother! going to bed angry is toxic anyway. 2. people thinking that my anger is "amusing"... you know the kind. you're furious. they're smirking. sometimes you need to be laughed at but it's an almost instant, "i want to throttle you," then maybe like a year later you'll think, okay, that was funny. then feel like an idiot. it's never instantaneous. you thenceforward burn with shame whenever the memory asserts itself, that or burn with fury.

jobs: a most lauded reader and commentator asked how i found so many jobs, or why maybe or who, what, when and where... it's so hollywood. and it's just my luck. i wouldn't say the luck was good but there must be a twist if i keep finding them. granted i have those moments where i feel i just need to get on with life- quit dancing about and find something where i can be responsible again, possibly in charge. teaching for instance flashed across my mind on the way to class. it does sometimes. catches me totally unaware. i reject it hours later as totally improbable at the moment but it's not all the way out.... but it's definitely nowhere near in. but mainly i can describe myself as an itinerant entertainment worker. and here in LA its pretty common. i just can't be part of the service industry as retail alone makes me suicidal and temping (doing those office rounds) disheartens me to despair...though i keep going back to those dysfunctional relationships... i've so far found that going from finit to finit 'freelance' gigs to be the most easy, detached and commitless way to get around. as usual i hope it leads to something, where people would actually be happy to know i have multiple degrees, am an avid test taker, crave order, am highly creative, and an independent worker... plus i'm learning french! but so far with each hope of something long term and better paying has been dashed by personality conflicts, lack of funds, poor timing, backstabbing, buyouts, moves and all the things you can imagine might be part of 'hollywood'... i am not unlike the unhappy actor who goes on interview after interview waiting to be picked up and wanted... but i think i'm proof that there is life after job after job and that there are better and worse and common threads run through them all. it's not very hard. so be brave and get on with it. just go. it'd be interesting if my dating life were like my job life- either way i'm looking for "the one" and haven't found it. i really am very sure what the one might look like and because i've had so many i know what i don't like, can't tolerate, shouldn't have... but i'm waiting to be surprised. i'm totally for hire.

pretty much blows

so i'd like to pretend that this is a cold front moving in and at any minute it might rain but really its the smoke moving south as the winds blow from the northeast... boo. this fucking sucks. not to mention the people actually losing homes and all that, but not breathing very well isn't cool either.

the way it is

Today I am: a shiny pool of green viscous liquid on a metal science tray on a black counter. The light of the sun is dappled thru the window and is hitting the corner of the tray.

I met with 2 friends before church at a place called the Alcove yesterday. Nice atmosphere even if tragically overpriced. My friends ordered: toast and the other ordered a scone. Completely exasperating. I mean come on, how is that breakfast? I should’ve perhaps asked if anyone would be eating with me but it seemed so you know- goes without saying. My bad. I had scrambled eggs with smoked bacon, spinach and gruyere with sourdough. I am an animaI. I hunch over the table waiting as they nibble on their breads. Waiting. Waiting. From what I can remember, whilst my blood sugar level dropped then battled itself back with the oh so tastiness of my food, of the conversation was how we all seemed to picture Jesus with us as I mentioned the color and texture of my days.

Joanna was talking about how over busy she was after a 4 year period of relative ease and that mentally she said she pictured herself in the (possibly rugged southern California hopefully not on fire) hills, on the footpath with jesus, and he was wearing red running shoes. Was he ahead of her? Yes, I can’t catch up. Maybe he’s setting the pace. Follow me, action Jesus said. Just follow me. He turns to her as she struggles with the pace and waves her on. Follow me. Really, red running shoes? Yes. That’s awesome.

We laughed.

I said, Jesus is still with me in a boat. Joanna said, he was with me on the ocean once. I’m on a river, I said… the boat is wading, the current isn’t very strong. Danica asked, does he ever suggest you get out and walk? No, never, I said,… and then mentally I continued, the banks are high; it’s dark. There’s no sign of a path through the green - it’s very quiet in the boat. Nothing very much is said, but we do seem to be going somewhere.

And its funny because this personal jesus of ours is always very specifically placed; once the questions are asked you realize how very real the picture is to you. And how the jesus we know is very close and never high up and remote. And it’s a comfort that the way we picture him is very much the way we feel and the way he probably is to us the most at the moment. But the fact that he is there with the three of us and we picture him is unifying and cool.

Just now I look back into my picture of Jesus and we’re still on the river, going slow, but he’s facing me and his feet are up on the seat and he’s got red shoes on. I try to picture him barefoot but the red running shoes pop back on his feet. He must be resting here with me- and it leaves me feeling secure. I don’t know why. And I must be smirking as I stare at him, but he kindly securely continues to stare at me- arms over his knees as if he knows about the shoes and everything about me but doesn’t seem to mind.

HAPPY FIRST DAY

OF BEING ALIVE AND IN THE WORLD!

born: Oct 20, 1:20AM
6 lbs, 7 oz
20 inches long

Welcome N.LO.

ooowhoohooooo

HURRAY!

friday

today i am a red bouncing ball sitting in a wheatfield under a bright blue sky.

mystery: solved!

Finally, we know why Ebony is so strangely reticent at panel--the girl who was so potentially bitchy during the first episode? Lost all her fire shortly thereafter? Since Tyra, Twiggy, Miss J and company have hounded her for nearly three weeks now, saying Smile, girl!, Ebony finally blurted out last night: I think my gums are too big. Well, geez! Is that all? You'd think she could have just explained that before.

I think it's kind of nice that she's simply self-conscious, rather than being quietly snotty, flat in personality, or having no reason at all. How she refrained so long from smiling at Nigel, though, that has to require some stamina.

Anyway, girl, kick-ass photo shoot on the rooftop. I still think you're pretty interesting, and hope you go far.

work station part deux

this is my new workspace on the shiny 9th floor. it is a really uncomfortable desk, bcs as you see, if the placement of the computer is in the center, that means my back is to everyone who walks up, but since the computer is this way... its all cockeyed and crazy... and i didn't even put it this way. let's be honest: i'm half-assing work and i'm feeling guilty about it. i show up at 10. i leave at 5ish... i get "some stuff" done. i write a lot of emails. i take tests about my personality color or what bobblehead i would be.... i expect to be fired because i'm completely useless. i make notes to myself everyday: do more work, don't do french devoir at your travailler. do that one thing that you've been avoiding. do not compulsively check hotmail acct. do not compulsively check blog for comments. fail... leave work early anyway.but anyway i did some redecorating after i took over the desk, took down all those harrowing post-its and phone lists sloppily taped to the back wall and noticed that the ratio of comments is skewing heavily male.... 7/3 so far in fact. also noted the verbal recognition of said work is much more forceful and convincing from the men than the women. for example: "That looks really good." or "I like it." "Nice stripes." followed by nods of approval.The women so far: shrug, headnod, or "cool." Totally not satisfying, but i guess for now i'll just have to go for the boys. These aren't MY boys that i blogged about before- they're corporate suitandtie boys. Totally different. But there's one guy named Steven who understood my SisterCarrie reference and then sent me an article on Paris Hilton being like Nietzsche and SchoPenHAUER on her understanding of the human condition. Aw. Totally sympatico work buddy. Hurray. Oh and here- this color arrangement on floor D of our parking garage totally inspired my color choice.. .or rather validated it. how is that not a beautiful array. Just say no to black, silver, white and tan.

in lieu of a post bcs the picture thing is broken and it's about the pictures! that's what i'm saying... so

this morning i'm feeling like a shiny green marble lost in the dew soaked grass. i wish i was blue but i am not.

today

my horoscope is coming up as empty. it will not appear in email or on the website. what does it all mean?!

Cafe Flore

thank you so much to sarah who blogged about this so i could steal the pics and remember all the dishes. i must have been in a malaise as i am now to not blog about this. currently i feel this way, as i let one of my friends know in an email, whom by the way is startling non-specific in personal details- so why would i want to tell her about my french teacher being both an asshole and an infuriatingly decent teacher or the very nasty email i received from an alleged friend, or the fact i snapped and ditched work, or that wading into an ocean is fairly appealing ala kate chopin, or the fact that i feel i've forgotten how to write or paint, but that floral arrangement really is a niche i've got, and that i'm elated to pay my bills but disheartened by forebearance and still oh so lonely... i responded: i feel that there has been some lovely emotional weather, with possible clearing however unexpected overcast and drizzle have dampened my spirit, with some circumstantial potholes which are neck stiffening and jarring.

but onward to cafe flore: this was the place we originally started at but it was closed so we ended up walking 3 miles and eating with a whole bunch of israelies. this time it was open and we were ushered authentically into france. bon. the couple next to me was speaking french who i longed to understand fully, the host who could not stop staring at us and waiting upon us with a cat like intensity made us feel au france. i tried my best to prononce the menu items correctly- to be told the poulet (stuffed with delicious things) was sold out, as was the quiche. que horrible! but i settled on this ample saffron chicken dish- which seemed to me both delicious and healthy and not at all what i expected- the apricot and fig sauce was killer, the rice and vege completely savory and the chicken seemed to exist purely to serve the other flavors which i was totally okay with. . . sarah had this awesome pumpkin and sweet potato ravoli which i felt i couldve consumed in 5 minutes and then spend another minute licking the plate- and previous we had this delicious flaky pastry stuffed with goat cheese and dried tomato and basil.... divine. did we mention that bcs we reserved our place online we got 20% off!? the bill!

i am so happy to have accompanied sarah on this adventure and look forward to the next exploration and country to encounter, as it satiates for a breath my need to flee the country. bon appetite.

and as we all must i'm going to try to focus on this moment and not the other irritating ones that make life suckass.

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.

it's just not good.

Poor, sweet K.Lo, and her tragic injury.

my friend danica all bad ass

chinatown

i do acknowledge that the last post was a little dire- thanks to kurt for actually taking the test, he will be nominated for several awards- what with my talk of death and nazis... it has sparked some debate with a few of my friends who were termed "everyday germans"... but what can you do. conversation about such things isn't necessarily bad. and hopefully my one friend who is now left pondering if her being tolerant can lead to being too tolerant... will one day speak to me again. i 'm also fascinated about the debate over labeling the armenian genocide actual genocide. and making people unhappy over such things like truth will never find a good time. and do labels really kill and divide? i guess so... but anyway, what i wanted to post about was chinatown. danica and i went here after we went to the flowermart- which is a gigantic wholesale flower distribution center. and you get'em for cheap. it is a fantastic place. i'm going again this saturday bcs i'm in actual need of flowers for a tea so i'll have to post about it then. but onward!danica and i swung by chinatown in the quiet AM hours because she wanted to photograph the old men playing their games, drinking their coffee, reading their paper, and generally congregating with other men, escaping their wives? so early though? there were not many women present outside the aptly named "wonder bakery"... however, we were horrifically conspicuous. which i feel works in our favor, though noticed, we are so conspicuous like tourists rolling by that we are virtually left alone. we vow to be more brazen in our photographic efforts next time. chinatown is awesome. and i'm glad though a native i still get that feeling of having been a tourist in my own town... wandering into shops and pondering things i've never seen or tasted... notably: barrels of mystery root, jars of mystery tea, and rows of dried weird things. Also danica: you are a Tiger. Which i think i agree with... as I am a Dragon. And I am always right.
things fascinated with: aloe you can eat, bulbous fish, hawks, the chinese zodiac, healing roots, colorful chinese lanterns, donuts, dragons.

final answers

on TV

keeping, love: Aliens in America, Reaper, Pushing Daisies, Life

precarious: Private Practice, Kid Nation

NO: Bionic Woman, Big Bang Theory


on ANTM

still my favorite: Heather!!!

make-over "do": bald, and somehow less obnoxious now Bianca

make-over "don't": long-haired, platinum blond Jenah, who now looks like the toothy, "non-edgy" love child of Melrose and Caridee

although: Jenah's picture still kicked ass.

taken down a few much-needed notches: Victoria! what was her verbal vendetta against Twiggy all about?

omg, horrible: Saleisha's Beatle hair

Nigel: increasingly hot.


Baby N.Lo
two weeks from due date

zero station

contractions: all the freaking time

no more progress expected till true, REAL labor

BUT, deadline: no more than 2 weeks past due date

so: within a month


K.Lo
mood: erratic

lip: fat, from tripping the other day and biting her lip

nose: scuffed all over after tragic fall this morning down 2 concrete stairs

mommy: BAD.


weather

cooler!

untimely heat wave: over!

windows: open!!!

me

a tiny bit more sane.

Is Resistance Futile?

Over the last decade, especially in my more anxious and paranoid years I latched onto betrayal and trust as a concept litmus test for friends. Can i really trust them, and do they really trust me. And if I thought you didn't trust me as a friend I really did relegate you to the lower orders. (I'm really much more sympathetic now, Ithink) TRUST. Part of me had to believe I could, no matter what, count on their friendship like an anchor lest i be caught adrift- but people as well as friendships are not made of unbreakable iron stuff, usually. Thus my constant disillusionment. But it took on larger significance as i began to identify certain qualities in people in general that I would then say, they'd sell me to the gestapo in a second. Or, a very few, I think they'd fight with me in the resistance. Obviously I developed a bit of a persecution complex. Something I've been honing since my early youth. This is me- and that is THEM out there. And i would, and still innately but more quietly, do apply that standard to everyone i meet and every place I work. Which takes on in each instance the epic quality of the apocalypse, hostile takeover, warfare, catastrophe and disaster. What would they do, what would I do? And WHY. My curiosity at the very least of trying to understand motivation has opened the door to compassion but STILL- the inevitable fact remains: would you sell me out to save yourself?

Last night amber and I stumbled upon this test from okcupid and we thought- how appropriate! – about whether we’d be Nazis or not- bcs we had this whole discussion at dinner with dad about how he should be an advocate for people who go thru bullshit with building and safety since he’s so traumatized- and he said its no use, fighting, it’s all corrupt and horrible and you can’t change anything- I was like, that’s horrible dad- you’re why nazi germany happened. (And my dad is 50% german so this totally matters.) And for one second I saw a wry smile play on his lips like he’d been had and then it vanished under grumpy old man- and he went off about how most wars- including our American revolution and the civil war only involved 30% of the population- which is such a dad thing to know- and the rest were ambivalent or more apathetic about the outcome. So then amber (who's also German and a Von at that) and I took the test- which you know, we can't vouch for the validity of- but onward, only 5% precent of all test takers are members of the resistance and the rest- EEK!—mom took the test and she was an Expatriate. (meaning of course she fled or escaped the country which i imagine we helped her to do and felt really good about as we stayed on and faught. mom really shouldn't be there to witness the horror anyway, she should go on and spread her light to the world) I am proud to say both amber and were members of the RESISTANCE… so then we sent the test to dad- but mom informed us he was asleep on the couch. it’ll be funny to see what dad gets- when he’s not busy falling asleep or making aggressive racist and defamatory remarks at dinnertime just because he can, and because its easy- what is the old man switch that suddenly you loose all social decorum and grace and the ability to communicate- granted he’s never had the latter- but I can’t believe he spoke like he speaks when he was 31. you should've heard him at dinner. he'd like to believe that, as we all at one time would, that we'd fight for what we believe, help the persecuted and the downtrodden or stand against what's patently wrong- but MOST really wouldn't. I mean he won't even fight for the principle behind the small things. But lets not be disheartened. Not all of us are fighters and we don't need to be. so those that do have a voice should use theirs when they really need to. that's all. It's just a curious thing to ponder and of course it just gives me one more thing to print out and know about myself, like some validation for what i've always believed about myself and how really i need to find my very own rare resistance fighter to love me and carry me off. but how hard are they to find?! I mean 5% yeesh!

Then of course, promptly after, i took my Know Your Own Death test- and accordingly I will be living to around 2057. And dying of a heartattack at the ripe age of 76. This has always seemed to be a good age to die to me. I may feel differently later as it seems a bit far off now but for the record- just in case- i'm okay with it. and of course if you know of anyone who would also be living to about that age and is male and a member of the resistance also- you can feel free to send him my way.

Freakish Mind Thing

Courtesy of the Growler: The Left Brain- Right Brain test. Okay its freaky and because i love me and like learning all about me i found the test intriguing but seriously wanted way more of an analysis... I saw the dancer spinning clockwise then midway she started spinning counterclockwise. I mean what the hell does that mean?

In another note about narcissism i figured why it made me so mad when certain people would forget my name, i always thought- am i that forgetable?! But then after a couple times and the person still couldn't remember my name or worse yet couldn't even remember meeting me, i switched to, geesh they're inconsiderate.... how fucking rude.

Anyway the brain thing, interesting no? Little brain, how wonderfully and fearfully made.

LEFT BRAIN FUNCTIONS (counter clockwise)
uses logic
detail oriented
facts rule
words and language
present and past
math and science
can comprehend
knowing
acknowledges
order/pattern perception
knows object name
reality based
forms strategies
practical
safe

RIGHT BRAIN FUNCTIONS (clockwise)
uses feeling
"big picture" oriented
imagination rules
symbols and images
present and future
philosophy & religion
can "get it" (i.e. meaning)
believes
appreciates
spatial perception
knows object function
fantasy based
presents possibilities
impetuous
risk taking

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.

the art of unproductivity

New Sunday tradition at the Lo house: False Labor! It really is a fantastic way to spend one's time, highly recommended. At least this time I wasn't dumb enough to go to the hospital only to be sent home. And I ate my protein. There were contractions, all day, strong enough to be timed. But they were erratic. Nervewracking. And essentially pointless.

I'll admit that I am hitting the wall as far as wanting this kid out of me. I realize that I still have a good 2 1/2 weeks until the actual due date, so my impatience isn't fully warranted. The more reasonable side of me acknowledges, too, that I should be savoring these last few moments of only having one child to look after, as opposed to one child and a newborn. Even more whining, even less sleep. BUT. Everything is bulky, sore, uncomfortable. I can no longer do my super-hero tricks. It's exasperating to drop something on the floor, but downright insurmountable to drop a favorite shirt in the dark alleyway between the washing machine and the water heater. I mean, are you kidding me?

False labor is especially frustrating to me because it inspires me to do the exact opposite of what is smart, productive, or zen. Instead of focusing on other things around me to make time progress at a reasonable rate, instead of accepting that true labor will come when it's time, I focus completely on the labor, forgo all normal activity. The hours and minutes become an oozing puddle of slime. K.Lo amps up the whine factor, J.Lo and I become nervous wrecks. It is a most unfortunate way to spend the weekend.

Today I vow to:

run 2 loads of laundry

dust the living room

finish cleaning the bathroom

watch Desperate Housewives, decide whether it will make the cut

take Bug for a walk

or something to that effect.

May I only continue to be so wise.

experimental filler

dear penelope,

happy anniversary. it's been like 3 whole years. we made it. we've managed to communicate over the span of 1095 days and this our 1201st post. thus begins our 4th year! we amaze me.

and to think i've known you for almost 8 years. you're the best pen-pal i've ever had. a friendship made of letters. every day(ish), every week, all the while.

today the weather is all cloudy with patches of blue. i hope it rains. i'm in corporate land and i have a slice of a window thru an office. the place kinda creeps me out but its familiar. there's time to study french, watch my tv premieres on line... the VP i'm next to is going on maternity leave today. and i pretty much have 2 very specific things to do. and if it lasts till december, that'll be good enough for me. maybe i'll make it out of the country soon... it's not like nothing good or exciting has happened to me. like hello, new car, hello employment for over a year- even i was stuck at borders for a portion of it- hello waterrafting and chicago, and kayaking, and hiking and beach walking... my whole life a flash of brilliant bluesky photographs.

it feels like fall. coldish. something bright and brief about the light. a closing. dormancy. (that just took me forever to spell) i felt myself forgetting how to say 2200. like uh, 22- 0-0? or oh two, two hundred... maybe this blog will be a record of me going totally insane. all those lifetime movies have to have pointed to something.

yesterday this greekfood place i've been waiting for opened up- had a gyro and fries- sooo good! this weekend i'm suppose to see a movie with my aunt/uncle and amber. but neither of the movies we want to see are at the local theatre- which means driving to unfamiliar territory- so i have no idea if they're up for that. mom and dad are at the avocado festival in carpenteria. which- house to myself. it never seems to be enough though. i wonder how much truly productive alone time i get. and maybe that's part of the twitch- not putting thoughts to the page, no paint to the canvas. what is it about creating things that makes us sane? balances us. makes us breathe?

i think you're right about me feeling out of character. but i don't know how to assert my identity- how did i become out of character? why does yourself suddenly fragment to unrecognizable. i don't get it. or is it because the friendships are so new- i don't know if that's it either. anyway. i feel that after gradschool i am not me. i don't know who i am- why should it take so long to get to know yourself- the same old self but destabilized- different characteristics, older eyes.

i wonder if i'll be sad when i'm no longer mistaken for a post college 23-24yrold. i saw more grey hairs creeping in. which was kind of cool but ominous. like i haven't earned that signifier of age. and i wonder when i'll feel that.

so- i'm staring off into space, so i better go, like my thoughts are lost- would just start circling back themselves- so yah, till next time. till tomorrow. till then. be well.

stay present,
as always and forever yours,
Mendacious, Queen of Asides

another classic Bug moment

and later...

unhappy-camper models & unmodel-like campers

ANTM
still rooting for: Heather!

bored with: Bianca vs. Saleisha

confused by: Ebony's reticence

unsure of: Victoria's blank stare + Ivy background?

yet still sort of loved: Victoria's picture

also watching: Ambreal, Jenah

can't even remember: who got sent home?

oh, right: it was that one girl with the weird ears

can't wait for: makeovers and meltdowns, oh my!


SURVIVOR
still rooting for: James!

BEST quote of the night: "It’s frustrating with this team because they have a slow learning curve. I’m the only one that actually went and read a survival handbook… Four hours of Barnes and Noble, I feel like Crocodile Dundee out here!" (James)

apparently an idiot: Leslie, thinking that a) the other tribe is The Get-Along Gang b) Todd is a trustworthy player?? c) the Hidden Immunity Idol is super-hard to find

TERRIBLE shelter construction: Zhan Hu tribe

totally skeezed out by: Jean-Robert the Undesired Cuddler, Denise the Mullet at Reward Challenge, Right Said Dave's same challenge nakedness--totally lacks Richard Hatch's charisma/license/strategic aims

16 pounds together: Courtney and Todd

more worthless than S:Africa's Brandon at challenges: Courtney

still kind of rooting for because at least he's interesting and seems to have a brain: Todd

not sad to see go: Leslie

can't believe she didn't get a single vote: the chihuahua

my spoon is only 91 (1847 rogers xs triple: heraldic, 1916)

the thing i like most about my spoon is that it has sharp edges, perfect for rounding out the meat of the kiwi- like i was eating an egg in one of those fancy cups, but its sweet delicious green-ness fruit. its nice also because it belongs to a set and isnt a sad lonely spoon. this was my great grandmothers spoon. i hope she ate with it. i liked her very much. and is one of the fonder more magical spots in my childhood. so i am very glad to have it. and besides bringing them out for a recent tea, i have left it out and used it, just because i can, and like to pretend that everyone must eat with near 100 year old things and imagine all the meals and conversations thats passed between.

the biggest dahlia of them all

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.

hello,

current conditions of one mendacious: possibly spiraling due to gaping loneliness. keeping her mind off it i suppose would be the kiwi in her bag and her 100yr old spoon. her cat marley who is staring at her with sleepy hypnotic eyes, the dahlia on top of her desk, and the garden outside, the french notebook to the right and all the possible lists she could start, addendum, and amend.


yesterdays list: (i was very adamant about everything)

shower!
food/french-class!
post office!
bank!
workout! (which did not happen)

todays list:
work (hours?! logging responsibilites? ask vp if she hasn't gone on maternity leave yet)
workout
reaper 9pm
movie with amber (1408?)
do french worksheet
try not be lonely

upcoming lists when i realize nothing creative is happening in those other lists:

southpark: wed (make it homeintime from French, curse broken vcr)

paint flower canvas (thursday? in btw office/earl/LO:c.i.no time to be lonely)

friday- work on abstract painting !? or read mystery book aloud with mom.

saturday: start sorting out blog entries for tell all book, try not to be lonely, if so: start painting. or go watch tv. maybe that wodehouse playhouse you got from borders for 40% off. bcs we all know how saturday tv can be.

sunday: church it up, feel mildy skeptical about the "big surprise" they say they've got, avoid signing up for homegroup bcs it would be with strangers (maybe that wouldn't be so bad), pick flowers in garden, think about how to incorporate prayer into your daily life more, see what's on tv, stare at "projects: list" see whats up for grabs. avoid journaling about feelings and make a list instead.

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

apple blossom

hello. my name is apple blossom. i am so glad mendacious finally finished me because it fucking took her forever. i sat untouched for a year with only four lines. then finally i got more lines. and she tried to make me a different color and i was like, uh, no- scrape it off. bcs i love my amped up green color. like realistic but totally not. so despite what she initially thought i was wayyy easier to finish. and this, looking at the finished me, is something she's proud of.