As I previously disclaimed, I indeed have been quite busy in the last week, spending some quality time with my soldier man. He looks so incredibly hot in his camouflage *smirk* So much has been going on in the last week that I've been trying to think of the best way to detail it all so that you get the jist without getting brain fatigue. I decided to steal a little creative license from a movie we saw over the holidays (another disclaimer: this worked well in the movie, no guarantees it will for the blog!). So fasten your seatbelts:
Sunday
Shopped for groceries. Things Ads would like. Went to a Xmas party. Saw more Mittmans. They might be relatives but we're not sure yet. Had a good time, said good-bye, waited at home for Ads. He got to town but couldn't make it onto our street--too much snow. I drove down to the end of the block, met him, kissed him, loaded him and Kiks up, drove home. First night of Chanukkah. It was a good night.
Monday
Got up, worked a half day. Anxious to get home. Ads picked me up. Cleaned house furiously for two hours. Went to birth center to meet with midwives. Felt my uterus. Heard baby kick. Heard baby's fast heartbeat. Adam told silly jokes that made the midwives laugh. He still thinks he's funny. Baby's happy and healthy. We're happy and thankful. Went home, made latkes for Chanukkah. Had a few friends over. We ate. We talked. We laughed. We all ate some more. We watched new reality show ("Momma's Boys"). Gave Adam Channukah gifts. Another good night.
Tuesday
Worked a half day. Went home, Adam was at lunch with George and Krishnan. House was cold. I read books in bed. All baby books now. That's all I read. It's sad. It's useful. Adam came home. We talked about babies. We fell asleep. Woke up and talked more about babies. Realized too late we were late for our date night. Hurried to get dressed and out of the house. Raced to gallery in thick wall of snow. Saw Dr. Suess exhibit. Adam liked. So did I. Got a hug from the gallery owner. Went to swanky restaurant for dinner. Same restaurant from our wedding night. Ads was surprised. I was pleased. Very romantic with snow falling outside. We ate a lot and talked a lot. Went home, watched tv. Lit the menorah. Good night.
Wednesday
Xmas Eve. I took off from work. We cleaned house. House got messier. We gave up. Went shopping for baby. Got overwhelmed. How do we decide? Consulted books but still confusing. Came home, ate pie, watched George Bailey like his life again. Fourth night of Chanukkah. Good night.
Thursday
Christmas. Got up, had breakfast with friends. Played with kids. I ate 1/2 grapefruit kid licked. I cease to care. I was hungry. Picked up Krishnan, went to Ann Arbor. Saw Heather and family. Visited. Drank two glasses of water. Hydrated again. Left Ann Arbor with Krishnan and Maya. They both slept. Adam drove. I nagged. Had chai. Went home. Tried to clean house. Gave up. Went to movies. Watched Wilson and Aniston with Marley. Reminded us of Shabbi. Cried for long time in theater. Sat and talked about her. Adam got text on his phone. Went home and made calls. Found out his uncle died. Lit menorah for Shabbi and Uncle Mel. Not a good night.
Friday
More baby shopping. Adam and I fought in mall. People watched. Made up and shopped for baby. Overwhelmed again but found stuff. Nice crib, nice stroller. Maybe we're catching on. Came home, ate leftovers, took bath, watched tv. More Chanukkah gifts. Better night.
Saturday
Got up. Felt weird sensation in belly. Went to volunteer, greenhouse closed. Picked up Adam. Met Krishnan and Maya at mall. Had fun with Maya. Came home. Cleaned again. Made some progress. Went to dinner. Very romantic at Irish Pub. Walked around, got ice cream. Full tummies. Went home. Lit menorah? Passed out.
Sunday
Slept in. Felt weird movement in belly. Got up. Felt panicked. Running out of time. Gotta get things done. Adam worked on garbage disposal. Called customer service. Fixed disposal...after being spewed with sludge. I laughed uncontrollably. Took showers. Kika walking in sludge. Took her into shower with me. Greg House accidentally locked in attic. Has blown paper insulation in fur. Took him in shower with me. Finally out of shower. Went to dinner with Mittmans. Still not relatives but maybe they are. Had good times. Laughed a lot, ate well. Last night of Chanukkah. Lit menorah for our family. Missing Shabbi. Looking forward to baby. Good night.
Monday
Slept in. Supposed to go to work. Bailed. Slept til 10am. Cleaned out garage. Cleaned out house. Finally looks like house again. Pants no longer fit. Depressed. Had lunch with Krishnan and George. Cleaned house some more. Met gang for good-byes. Went home, watched tv. Passed out. Good night.
Today
First day of maternity pants. No other pants fit. Dealing. Last (only) day of work for the week. Leaving with Adam for Virginia in the morning. Supposed to get 4-5 inches of snow overnight. Hope we make it out tomorrow. Just saw myself in mirror. A pregnant lady stared back at me. Dealing.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Quick Bump Update
Just a quickie this time, but wanted to update folks on our first appointment at the birth center yesterday. I was super-pysched that Ads was in town to go with me. We met with the head midwife, Kip, and a midwife apprentice, Audra, who bore a stunning resemblance to Jorja Fox from CSI. She was really super cute.
But anyway, the baby. At the end of the appointment, Kip had me lie down and she helped Adam and me find the margins of my ever-growing uterus. It was fascinating to know how big it is now, and to know that the wee one is filling up most of that space. Adam kept saying, "So the baby's in there?" while pointing to the alcove that Kip had cupped out with her hands. It is incredible to know that something (someone) that big is inhabiting my body right now.
When Audra took out the Doppler to find the heartbeat (always a little nerve-racking for me, for fear that they can't find it), within seconds we heard a loud static crack. She and Kip both started laughing and exclaimed, "That was a kick!" Adam and I couldn't believe how active our little person already is; I think Ads is still marvelling that it has little feet and hands already.
So that's that for now. Stay tuned for a "Best of 2008" list coming soon...
But anyway, the baby. At the end of the appointment, Kip had me lie down and she helped Adam and me find the margins of my ever-growing uterus. It was fascinating to know how big it is now, and to know that the wee one is filling up most of that space. Adam kept saying, "So the baby's in there?" while pointing to the alcove that Kip had cupped out with her hands. It is incredible to know that something (someone) that big is inhabiting my body right now.
When Audra took out the Doppler to find the heartbeat (always a little nerve-racking for me, for fear that they can't find it), within seconds we heard a loud static crack. She and Kip both started laughing and exclaimed, "That was a kick!" Adam and I couldn't believe how active our little person already is; I think Ads is still marvelling that it has little feet and hands already.
So that's that for now. Stay tuned for a "Best of 2008" list coming soon...
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Uhhhhhh......????
So, I know it's late (1:40 am, to be exact) but I KNOW I didn't hear this wrong. I'm in our home office, trying to wrap things up online before hitting the sack, and I've got television on in the background. I believe it's an episode of "Law & Order: SVU" (no mistaking Mariska Hargitay's voice). Anyway, I just heard her confront a woman with the words, "He's cheating on you...with his own daughter." Yeah, I think that's fodder only for L&O:SVU. You just wouldn't hear Sam Waterston saying things like that on the original L&O. And I know that 'cause he answered my question, so we're like that now (BFFs).
Yesterday evening, after coming home from work 3 hours early, I started shovelling the 4 inches of snow that had accumulated on my driveway in the 4 hours that I'd been at work. An inch an hour. Once again, my neighbor was nowhere to be seen. I was more than halfway done when he runs out of this house, zipping up his jacket in the process, and yells, "You need to beat on my door!" I just smiled, but my internal monologue was saying "Why do I need to come get you to shovel our joint driveway??? Take some initiative, Buster!" Then he started shovelling and, while puffing up a cigarette only feet from me, started making inane comments about how he was happy to help me shovel since I'm pregnant, but of course he wasn't helping me shovel because of course, it's his responsibility to shovel, too. Oh, and how he was glad to see that the two of us cared about the state of our property when so few others do; I just looked at him quizzically, since I knew that he wouldn't have stepped one toe in that snow if he hadn't heard me laboring away beneath his window. I asked him to shovel another part of the driveway, away from me, because I couldn't be around his cigarette. He got embarassed right away (I felt bad about that) then apologized and mumbled, "I should've thought of that".
I replied, trying to help him out, "Well, you're not pregnant, why would you think of it?" He just shrugged and looked sheepish and we shovelled on. The driveway has been nice and clear for a whole day and it's been great. Tonight, Old Man Winter is dumping another 2-4 inches of snow on us. Yup, it's been great.
I just got off of a Skype call with a good friend who lives in Mongolia. Ann, it was SO good to speak to you tonight. Isn't technology (sometimes) great??? I kept thinking the entire time how unreal it was that we were looking at each other and talking for FREE when we are literally halfway around the world from each other. Sometimes technology really does win.
Adam comes in tomorrow evening and I couldn't be more excited. I spent all day today cleaning the house, doing the laundry and buying last-minute groceries before the snow hit. Just have to get the Chanukkah (tomorrow is the first night) and Christmas decor out so things are at least somewhat decorated by the time he comes home. If you don't hear from me in a few days, you'll, uh, know why. :-) <---very happy grin!
So Mariska has now confronted the man in question. I heard her say, "How could you? She's your daughter!" Man-in-question responded, "But I never saw her that way; she was always a full-grown woman to me..." Uhhhhh...hmm...yeah. G'night, folks.
Yesterday evening, after coming home from work 3 hours early, I started shovelling the 4 inches of snow that had accumulated on my driveway in the 4 hours that I'd been at work. An inch an hour. Once again, my neighbor was nowhere to be seen. I was more than halfway done when he runs out of this house, zipping up his jacket in the process, and yells, "You need to beat on my door!" I just smiled, but my internal monologue was saying "Why do I need to come get you to shovel our joint driveway??? Take some initiative, Buster!" Then he started shovelling and, while puffing up a cigarette only feet from me, started making inane comments about how he was happy to help me shovel since I'm pregnant, but of course he wasn't helping me shovel because of course, it's his responsibility to shovel, too. Oh, and how he was glad to see that the two of us cared about the state of our property when so few others do; I just looked at him quizzically, since I knew that he wouldn't have stepped one toe in that snow if he hadn't heard me laboring away beneath his window. I asked him to shovel another part of the driveway, away from me, because I couldn't be around his cigarette. He got embarassed right away (I felt bad about that) then apologized and mumbled, "I should've thought of that".
I replied, trying to help him out, "Well, you're not pregnant, why would you think of it?" He just shrugged and looked sheepish and we shovelled on. The driveway has been nice and clear for a whole day and it's been great. Tonight, Old Man Winter is dumping another 2-4 inches of snow on us. Yup, it's been great.
I just got off of a Skype call with a good friend who lives in Mongolia. Ann, it was SO good to speak to you tonight. Isn't technology (sometimes) great??? I kept thinking the entire time how unreal it was that we were looking at each other and talking for FREE when we are literally halfway around the world from each other. Sometimes technology really does win.
Adam comes in tomorrow evening and I couldn't be more excited. I spent all day today cleaning the house, doing the laundry and buying last-minute groceries before the snow hit. Just have to get the Chanukkah (tomorrow is the first night) and Christmas decor out so things are at least somewhat decorated by the time he comes home. If you don't hear from me in a few days, you'll, uh, know why. :-) <---very happy grin!
So Mariska has now confronted the man in question. I heard her say, "How could you? She's your daughter!" Man-in-question responded, "But I never saw her that way; she was always a full-grown woman to me..." Uhhhhh...hmm...yeah. G'night, folks.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Oh! What A Beautiful Morning!
That's actually not in jest. The snow is beautiful, but it's also a major pain in the arse. I woke up this morning around 1am (bathroom break? Greg House pawing at my face? Hunger pangs?) to find that no snow had fallen. Same thing when I woke up again at 3am. I thought to myself, "Ha! Once again the weather forecasters made much ado about a whole lotta nothing!"
Then Greg House, hunger pangs, and a need for a potty visit all woke me up at 4am, at which point I looked out the window to see the snow--or rather, a sheet of snow--coming down. I was shocked how much had changed in an hour. I was also shocked at how hungry I was so early in the morning. But I threw Greg House in the basement, used the toilet and went back to bed. A half hour went by with no sleep. I gave up, headed to the basement to release the cat, fed him and made myself a bowl of cereal. I listened to the radio while I ate, cross-legged, in front of the space heater in my bedroom. I kept sneaking peaks out the window at the snow accumulation; it was building up so fast...I just decided not to worry about whether I'd be going to work or not today, but the idea of staying home and sleeping was so appealing.
With both our bellies full, House and I curled up for another couple hours of slumber. His motor rumbled deep in his chest, putting me into a fitful sleep. When the alarm went off two hours later, I was not ready to get up, particularly after I checked the snow's progression. I had to shovel that??? I turned over and slept another hour before finally getting up to start shovelling. After a nice hot shower, I put on my snow gear (ski pants and new snow boots) and headed outside to start the gruntwork. Immediately, Jack Frost blindsided me with not just snow, but sleet hitting me square in the eyes. I ducked my head down as I started shovelling, making extra scraping noises to ensure that my next-door neighbor would know that I was shovelling. We have a joint driveway with him, and for some reason, this dude (nice as he is) never helps with the shovelling. The last snowfall gave us about 5 inches, and I had to shovel our long, long driveway all by my lonesome. So, this morning, I decided that he would help me. I was about 30 minutes in, resentful and aching, and nearing the end of the driveway when he popped out of his house. When I saw him start his car, I thought, "no he didn't!", assuming he was going to drive out over my newly shovelled driveway without helping. But he was just warming his car up, and ended up grabbing his shovel to help me finish up. He even offered to shovel my sidewalk for me, but I was already starting so I just finished. Maybe he'll be a little better about helping me out in the future, especially as I start getting bigger and less agile.
The drive to work was torturous. I should've kept my butt at home, but I wanted the hours in at work, so I braved the as-predicted-unplowed roads of Michigan. I almost had an accident with a car coming up behind me as I tried to swerve to avoid hitting a snowbank that had been left in the lefthand lane of traffic. I stopped at Panera to treat myself to breakfast (I deserved it, after all) and felt the icy beads pelting my face as I came back out to my car. Finally made it to work to find two of my coworkers in; my boss and a few other people stayed at home today. I should've taken their lead.
So here I am, trying to decide how long I'm actually going to stay in this office with near white-out conditions outside my window. The storm isn't supposed to end until this evening, and I really don't want to be caught in rush-hour traffic in poor weather and road conditions. Oh yea, and I'm supposed to go home, make a pot of chili and head over to a work Christmas party this evening.
Oh, what a night, late December, back in 2008...
Then Greg House, hunger pangs, and a need for a potty visit all woke me up at 4am, at which point I looked out the window to see the snow--or rather, a sheet of snow--coming down. I was shocked how much had changed in an hour. I was also shocked at how hungry I was so early in the morning. But I threw Greg House in the basement, used the toilet and went back to bed. A half hour went by with no sleep. I gave up, headed to the basement to release the cat, fed him and made myself a bowl of cereal. I listened to the radio while I ate, cross-legged, in front of the space heater in my bedroom. I kept sneaking peaks out the window at the snow accumulation; it was building up so fast...I just decided not to worry about whether I'd be going to work or not today, but the idea of staying home and sleeping was so appealing.
With both our bellies full, House and I curled up for another couple hours of slumber. His motor rumbled deep in his chest, putting me into a fitful sleep. When the alarm went off two hours later, I was not ready to get up, particularly after I checked the snow's progression. I had to shovel that??? I turned over and slept another hour before finally getting up to start shovelling. After a nice hot shower, I put on my snow gear (ski pants and new snow boots) and headed outside to start the gruntwork. Immediately, Jack Frost blindsided me with not just snow, but sleet hitting me square in the eyes. I ducked my head down as I started shovelling, making extra scraping noises to ensure that my next-door neighbor would know that I was shovelling. We have a joint driveway with him, and for some reason, this dude (nice as he is) never helps with the shovelling. The last snowfall gave us about 5 inches, and I had to shovel our long, long driveway all by my lonesome. So, this morning, I decided that he would help me. I was about 30 minutes in, resentful and aching, and nearing the end of the driveway when he popped out of his house. When I saw him start his car, I thought, "no he didn't!", assuming he was going to drive out over my newly shovelled driveway without helping. But he was just warming his car up, and ended up grabbing his shovel to help me finish up. He even offered to shovel my sidewalk for me, but I was already starting so I just finished. Maybe he'll be a little better about helping me out in the future, especially as I start getting bigger and less agile.
The drive to work was torturous. I should've kept my butt at home, but I wanted the hours in at work, so I braved the as-predicted-unplowed roads of Michigan. I almost had an accident with a car coming up behind me as I tried to swerve to avoid hitting a snowbank that had been left in the lefthand lane of traffic. I stopped at Panera to treat myself to breakfast (I deserved it, after all) and felt the icy beads pelting my face as I came back out to my car. Finally made it to work to find two of my coworkers in; my boss and a few other people stayed at home today. I should've taken their lead.
So here I am, trying to decide how long I'm actually going to stay in this office with near white-out conditions outside my window. The storm isn't supposed to end until this evening, and I really don't want to be caught in rush-hour traffic in poor weather and road conditions. Oh yea, and I'm supposed to go home, make a pot of chili and head over to a work Christmas party this evening.
Oh, what a night, late December, back in 2008...
Thursday, December 18, 2008
I Came In At 37, 40, and 45...
Parents.com just released their top 50 girls' and boys' names. I decided to take a peek to see if any of the names Ads and I have been toying with fell on either of the lists.
All three of my names--first, middle and last--fell on the top 50 girls' list. Lauren was 37, Bailey ranked 40, and Alexis came in at 45. I guess I'm not as original as I thought I was...
All three of my names--first, middle and last--fell on the top 50 girls' list. Lauren was 37, Bailey ranked 40, and Alexis came in at 45. I guess I'm not as original as I thought I was...
In the Line of Ire
We are about to get pummeled.
The entire west coast and mid-section of Michigan is in the path of our first major winter storm, which is due to drop upwards of 10 inches on us by Friday's end. That fluffy stuff I was running around taking pictures of earlier this week was evidently just nature's giggle for the guffaw that's on the horizon.
I have no faith in the city's ability to deal with this amount of snow. Last year the mayor announced half-way through the snow season that the city had officially "run out of salt" to de-ice the roads, because a bulk of it had been sold to neighboring cities to increase our revenue. The city had also curtailed all overtime for sanitation workers, meaning that roadplows were not operating outside of normal business hours. Since weather patterns don't always function according to the American business schedule, this sanction on overtime was not the best situation for those travelling after hours. Seeing as the economy is in even more dire straits than last year, I can hardly expect any of these situations to have improved. So, this gal is taking care of "biz-ness" for herself.
Not that any part of me that wants to hit up the grocery store, right before a big snowstorm, with the rest of the crazed residents of this fair city. However, it's tonight or never. I want rations for the bunker...I mean, food for the house...in case I'm shut in for a lengthy period of time. Besides, I have a hungry man arriving soon; he might eat me and Greg House if the cabinets aren't filled to capacity.
I have finally bought everything that I am going to buy from the giant Linens 'N' Things store closing sale. I won't give a laundry list of the many great items I scored, but I was totally stoked to get my first Christmas-themed tablecloth and napkins last night, so I will spend time tonight (while I'm housebound) decorating for the holiday. It's about time I get all that Xmas stuff up from the basement.
So I shall keep candles, matches, flashlights and batteries on standby as Jack Frost makes his way eastward. I'll take as many pictures of the "guffaw" as my cold tolerance will allow. Stay safe and warm!
The entire west coast and mid-section of Michigan is in the path of our first major winter storm, which is due to drop upwards of 10 inches on us by Friday's end. That fluffy stuff I was running around taking pictures of earlier this week was evidently just nature's giggle for the guffaw that's on the horizon.
I have no faith in the city's ability to deal with this amount of snow. Last year the mayor announced half-way through the snow season that the city had officially "run out of salt" to de-ice the roads, because a bulk of it had been sold to neighboring cities to increase our revenue. The city had also curtailed all overtime for sanitation workers, meaning that roadplows were not operating outside of normal business hours. Since weather patterns don't always function according to the American business schedule, this sanction on overtime was not the best situation for those travelling after hours. Seeing as the economy is in even more dire straits than last year, I can hardly expect any of these situations to have improved. So, this gal is taking care of "biz-ness" for herself.
Not that any part of me that wants to hit up the grocery store, right before a big snowstorm, with the rest of the crazed residents of this fair city. However, it's tonight or never. I want rations for the bunker...I mean, food for the house...in case I'm shut in for a lengthy period of time. Besides, I have a hungry man arriving soon; he might eat me and Greg House if the cabinets aren't filled to capacity.
I have finally bought everything that I am going to buy from the giant Linens 'N' Things store closing sale. I won't give a laundry list of the many great items I scored, but I was totally stoked to get my first Christmas-themed tablecloth and napkins last night, so I will spend time tonight (while I'm housebound) decorating for the holiday. It's about time I get all that Xmas stuff up from the basement.
So I shall keep candles, matches, flashlights and batteries on standby as Jack Frost makes his way eastward. I'll take as many pictures of the "guffaw" as my cold tolerance will allow. Stay safe and warm!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Snow Falling On Gutters
There aren't any cedars on my street, but thought I'd post some pix for all to enjoy. Or at least for Adam to enjoy, because he specifically said he wished he could see all the snow we're getting. So, honey baby, here ya go.
I hope Ads got me a tobaggan for Xmas...
SNOW! I feel it, it's coming...feel it on my fingertips...
This is our backyard. My little Jetta is going to be buried by tomorrow morning!
I hope Ads got me a tobaggan for Xmas...
SNOW! I feel it, it's coming...feel it on my fingertips...
This is our backyard. My little Jetta is going to be buried by tomorrow morning!
Lauren's Sense of Snow
Tonight we're set for a good 3-5 inches of snowfall. As bad as this sounds, I am pretty excited for some good ole rockin' holiday cotton! Too bad I have to work tomorrow; I'm trying to make up some hours this week so there's no getting out of it. But knowing that it'll be all snowy and cold outside while I'm at work somehow makes things more exciting (or maybe it's that most of my officemates will have left early to avoid slippery roads, leaving the place to me). My colleague from North Carolina is not at all amused--by the snow or by my enthusiasm.
My only concern about getting a snowstorm is that Adam is driving into town this weekend. His car is a bit on the sporty side (let me be clear...it's a sports coup, not a sports car--I've been corrected many times over the years); it's not the best at handling slippery road conditions, so my delight at the snow ends when it comes to his and everyone else's travel safety. So far, we're due for more snow on Thursday and Friday, but I'm not sure what will happen come Sunday evening, when Ads is due to arrive in town.
Tonight is "House, MD", Greg House's and my favorite cuddle-up-together-under-a-warm-blanket tv show. He really likes seeing his namesake hobble around the hospital on his cane. House (the cat) meows at the tv and then jumps off the couch, whips out his cane and pretends to hobble around the house just like the tv character does. It's really quite the sight to see. He's got such a great imagination! Have to be there, I guess.
I know everyone across the country is getting cold, wintry conditions, so bundle up, stay warm and watch some tv tonight. Or watch your cat. Entertainment either way.
My only concern about getting a snowstorm is that Adam is driving into town this weekend. His car is a bit on the sporty side (let me be clear...it's a sports coup, not a sports car--I've been corrected many times over the years); it's not the best at handling slippery road conditions, so my delight at the snow ends when it comes to his and everyone else's travel safety. So far, we're due for more snow on Thursday and Friday, but I'm not sure what will happen come Sunday evening, when Ads is due to arrive in town.
Tonight is "House, MD", Greg House's and my favorite cuddle-up-together-under-a-warm-blanket tv show. He really likes seeing his namesake hobble around the hospital on his cane. House (the cat) meows at the tv and then jumps off the couch, whips out his cane and pretends to hobble around the house just like the tv character does. It's really quite the sight to see. He's got such a great imagination! Have to be there, I guess.
I know everyone across the country is getting cold, wintry conditions, so bundle up, stay warm and watch some tv tonight. Or watch your cat. Entertainment either way.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Nightmare On My Street...But No Caroling....
So much to write, so little time...
This past weekend was awesome in so many ways, but incredibly weird, too. Friday my girl Em invited me to a Christmas party with a bunch of women I didn't think I'd know. Turns out, I was wrong; I knew a few others who I've met through the years and it turned out to be loads of fun. I was the only one there not drinking or eating the soft cheese, so that blew, but otherwise, my hard-cheese-and-crackers-and-glass-of-ice-water was a nice accompaniment to fun conversation and a raucous gift exchange toward the end. I ended with a CD of highlights from Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker" which, while appropriate for the season, will also be a nice bedtime theme for the baby when it comes. The part about Friday, though, that got me the most psyched, was the fact that these women get together once a month for socializing, networking, etc. I didn't know that people did these types of things anymore, in the high-tech, low-contact world we live in today. I am happy to know that there are more ladies out there for me to meet. Wow, that sounded borderline lesbian. Well, I'll just go with it.
Saturday was a little more weird. My neighbor, Mrs. G., invited me to her great-granddaughter's "Quincinera", aka "Sweet 15th party." However, "party" is putting it lightly. This was an extravaganza! Ne'er would I have imagined the amount of money (the girl of honor's dress cost $700), time (they've been practicing for it since August) and effort that would go into a birthday party. But I guess this is a Mexican tradition, and it's supposed to be this big and extravagant. The birthday girl had a church ceremony, a huge reception and then all-night dancing afterward. For all intents and purposes, it was a wedding sans the groom. I'm not even kidding. She had a whole entourage of girls (around 8 of them, I think?) and escorts to accompany each of them. The were mostly kids from her school, and they were dudded up in bridesmaid's dresses and rented tuxes. It was quite the sight to see. When I asked Mrs. G. about the cost of the event, she said that the parents don't pay for it all; instead, they get "sponsors"--relatives, people from the church, friends from the community--to agree to pay for different parts of the event. That way, the parents are only responsible for the food and any item that is left over. I guess that's the way that weddings work, too. I found that hard to believe. But, I guess if Starr Jones could get sponsors for her wedding, why can't the rest of us?
Switching gears...One of my girlfriends once told me that when she was pregnant, she experienced very visceral, extremely erotic dreams that left her falling out of her bed night after night. She said, "Girl, this part of pregnancy is GOOD." Well, I have the visceral, falling-out-of-bed part down, but my dreams are actually on par with nightmares. For the past two nights, I have woken up in tears, thinking that someone is in my house waiting to kill me. Last night, I dreamt that I was being attacked by a wild animal and when I woke up at 4:30am, I waited the 30 minutes till I knew Adam would be waking up and called him, half-crying. Poor Ads was woken up simultaneously by his cell phone alarm and hotel wake-up call at the same time I called him in tears. He picked up, still groggy, with alarms going off in the background to say, "Heh-woh??" I told him to go shut off his alarms. When he came back to me, I said with the aching pangs of fear and loneliness, "I had another bad dream and I'm really scared." I think it took a few seconds for it to process through his sleepiness. "You did?" he replied. "Yeah, another one," I reminded him. The dream the night before had me in the middle of a murder-mystery movie (narrated creepily by Morgan Freeman) where I was the target of a psychopathic murderer in 1940s New York City. When I wasn't actually in the movie, I could see myself being portrayed rather convincingly by Keri Russell, of "Felicity" fame. Yea, I know, it doesn't add up. But, boy that guy, Mr. Paora (aka 'the killer') was really scary. When I woke up from that dream, I was sure it was a sign, a message from the great beyond that someone was waiting in my house to kill me. I sat in bed, shaking, looking for the slightest movement of a shadow. Gregory House loyally stayed in bed next to me, until the moment that I had to go pee, and I walked cautiously and watchfully through the darkened house. After going back to bed, I begged for the light of day to come so that my fear would go away. Somewhere during this time I fell back into a fitful sleep, and in the morning light, it all seemed ridiculous. But then with dream #2 full of wild grizzlies and bulls chomping at the bit (which was me), I lost sight of reality all over again.
Yesterday evening, I went to some friends' house for dinner. Right after dinner, the doorbell rang, and the husband breathed, "the neighbors." I didn't know what that meant until I heard the singing. The folks (and dogs) in their neighborhood had gotten together to go caroling from one house to another. They sang "Deck the Halls" to us and it was fabulous. I've never been caroled to before and I loved it. All I could think during the entire show was, "This SO wouldn't happen in our neighborhood!" It made me sad that we don't live in the type of community that would even think of doing something so light-hearted and sweet. On second thought, I'm sad for all poor neighborhoods that don't get exposed to simple pleasures like holiday songs on their doorstep. Something has got to change.
To all of you who don't get a holiday jingle, here's one for you
Fa La-la-la-la la-la, la, la
This past weekend was awesome in so many ways, but incredibly weird, too. Friday my girl Em invited me to a Christmas party with a bunch of women I didn't think I'd know. Turns out, I was wrong; I knew a few others who I've met through the years and it turned out to be loads of fun. I was the only one there not drinking or eating the soft cheese, so that blew, but otherwise, my hard-cheese-and-crackers-and-glass-of-ice-water was a nice accompaniment to fun conversation and a raucous gift exchange toward the end. I ended with a CD of highlights from Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker" which, while appropriate for the season, will also be a nice bedtime theme for the baby when it comes. The part about Friday, though, that got me the most psyched, was the fact that these women get together once a month for socializing, networking, etc. I didn't know that people did these types of things anymore, in the high-tech, low-contact world we live in today. I am happy to know that there are more ladies out there for me to meet. Wow, that sounded borderline lesbian. Well, I'll just go with it.
Saturday was a little more weird. My neighbor, Mrs. G., invited me to her great-granddaughter's "Quincinera", aka "Sweet 15th party." However, "party" is putting it lightly. This was an extravaganza! Ne'er would I have imagined the amount of money (the girl of honor's dress cost $700), time (they've been practicing for it since August) and effort that would go into a birthday party. But I guess this is a Mexican tradition, and it's supposed to be this big and extravagant. The birthday girl had a church ceremony, a huge reception and then all-night dancing afterward. For all intents and purposes, it was a wedding sans the groom. I'm not even kidding. She had a whole entourage of girls (around 8 of them, I think?) and escorts to accompany each of them. The were mostly kids from her school, and they were dudded up in bridesmaid's dresses and rented tuxes. It was quite the sight to see. When I asked Mrs. G. about the cost of the event, she said that the parents don't pay for it all; instead, they get "sponsors"--relatives, people from the church, friends from the community--to agree to pay for different parts of the event. That way, the parents are only responsible for the food and any item that is left over. I guess that's the way that weddings work, too. I found that hard to believe. But, I guess if Starr Jones could get sponsors for her wedding, why can't the rest of us?
Switching gears...One of my girlfriends once told me that when she was pregnant, she experienced very visceral, extremely erotic dreams that left her falling out of her bed night after night. She said, "Girl, this part of pregnancy is GOOD." Well, I have the visceral, falling-out-of-bed part down, but my dreams are actually on par with nightmares. For the past two nights, I have woken up in tears, thinking that someone is in my house waiting to kill me. Last night, I dreamt that I was being attacked by a wild animal and when I woke up at 4:30am, I waited the 30 minutes till I knew Adam would be waking up and called him, half-crying. Poor Ads was woken up simultaneously by his cell phone alarm and hotel wake-up call at the same time I called him in tears. He picked up, still groggy, with alarms going off in the background to say, "Heh-woh??" I told him to go shut off his alarms. When he came back to me, I said with the aching pangs of fear and loneliness, "I had another bad dream and I'm really scared." I think it took a few seconds for it to process through his sleepiness. "You did?" he replied. "Yeah, another one," I reminded him. The dream the night before had me in the middle of a murder-mystery movie (narrated creepily by Morgan Freeman) where I was the target of a psychopathic murderer in 1940s New York City. When I wasn't actually in the movie, I could see myself being portrayed rather convincingly by Keri Russell, of "Felicity" fame. Yea, I know, it doesn't add up. But, boy that guy, Mr. Paora (aka 'the killer') was really scary. When I woke up from that dream, I was sure it was a sign, a message from the great beyond that someone was waiting in my house to kill me. I sat in bed, shaking, looking for the slightest movement of a shadow. Gregory House loyally stayed in bed next to me, until the moment that I had to go pee, and I walked cautiously and watchfully through the darkened house. After going back to bed, I begged for the light of day to come so that my fear would go away. Somewhere during this time I fell back into a fitful sleep, and in the morning light, it all seemed ridiculous. But then with dream #2 full of wild grizzlies and bulls chomping at the bit (which was me), I lost sight of reality all over again.
Yesterday evening, I went to some friends' house for dinner. Right after dinner, the doorbell rang, and the husband breathed, "the neighbors." I didn't know what that meant until I heard the singing. The folks (and dogs) in their neighborhood had gotten together to go caroling from one house to another. They sang "Deck the Halls" to us and it was fabulous. I've never been caroled to before and I loved it. All I could think during the entire show was, "This SO wouldn't happen in our neighborhood!" It made me sad that we don't live in the type of community that would even think of doing something so light-hearted and sweet. On second thought, I'm sad for all poor neighborhoods that don't get exposed to simple pleasures like holiday songs on their doorstep. Something has got to change.
To all of you who don't get a holiday jingle, here's one for you
Fa La-la-la-la la-la, la, la
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Gestation Wars: The Nausea Strikes Back
For those of you who might be wondering (and for the benefit of those of you who don't care), I have decided to limit any updates/news of my pregnancy to one detailed post every few weeks. I figure many people who read this blog don't care about what nastiness is going on with my bod, so those folks only have one post in a blue moon to skip over, rather than trying to sort through a myriad of posts they do or don't want to read. I've also tried to make the title pretty clear so that people will know if it's a post they'll be interested in.
But...for those of you who are curious--and I've gotten a lot of flack from some of you for not writing more about Wee Willie--here is your semi-monthly news update. Kinda gross but not that exciting, so I'll let you decide for yourself if you really feel like reading.
First, the nausea has returned. This time it brought--as my college roommate Kara used to put it--"the throwup disease" with it. All yesterday my appetite was pretty low and I could barely shovel anything in, despite being pretty hungry. Last night, while brushing my teeth, I felt the impending doom approaching. Luckily I was hunched over a sink anyway. I called Adam immediately afterward for sympathy. After registering that I had indeed thrown up for the first time of my entire pregnancy, he then said very pragmatically, "Well, just turn on the faucet and wash it down!"
In less gross news, I have started showing. Well, it's apparent at least to me, when I'm nude, in front of the mirror. I'm pretty sure that tummy bulge has nothing to do with the two donuts I snarfed this morning on my way to work (I had to make up for the events of last night, right?). My jeans are starting to feel less comfortable to wear all day long, which is a little sad, since I love jeans more than most other things in life. But I've started wearing khaki fieldwork pants, because they "give" a little more when I'm sitting around the office. While I'm too early on to feel any movement yet, supposedly the Navel Orange (Wee Willie's size right now at 16+ weeks) can feel me when I poke and prod at my belly. That's kind of neat. Sometimes I poke a little and then say "This is your Mama! You better behave in there!" Other times I just sit around with my ever-growing belly in my hands and stare, amazed that this is really happening. It is completely unreal.
Exciting news:
Adam and I have been fortunate to have an extensive network of generous and thoughtful friends who have donated/lent their used baby items to us for Wee Willie's comfort and joy. So far, we have amassed many, many clothes, a baby Bjorn, a playmat-with-mobile, carseat, and baby tub from Seth, Sherry, Kai and Quinn; some fantastic books from Sarah and Steve that helped me make the decision to use the birth center; Wee Willie's first baby blanket from Art and Janice; and the ever-necessary cloth diapers from Trixi and Phoenix. Grandma Jayne, Aunt Shannon and Uncle Jake have given Wee Willie its first book, and Grandma Linda and Grandpa Cal sent baby its first spoon. Adam and I are SO excited and extremely grateful. Thanks to you all for your kind gifts and donations and to everyone for the caring thoughts and support.
Last piece of news:
Adam and I have made the command decision to leave the hospital that we've been working with in favor of the local birthing center. After a not-satisfying experience with my ob/gyn, a lot of extensive reading (I highly recommend "The Birth Book" by William & Martha Sears and "The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth" by Henci Goer) and heeding my own personal beliefs and gut instinct, I've decided to follow human tradition and allow my body to do the work of giving birth, not doctors, nurses, drugs and machines. The birth center is staffed by certified nurse midwives, a doula and a massage therapist. I have a couple of friends who have delivered there and have been extremely satisfied with their birth experiences. Adam and I look forward to ours as well.
So that's it for week 16. Things are good except when I'm puking in the sink; baby is growing and continuing to wreak havoc on my digestive and excretory systems; and Adam and I look forward to good things yet to come.
But...for those of you who are curious--and I've gotten a lot of flack from some of you for not writing more about Wee Willie--here is your semi-monthly news update. Kinda gross but not that exciting, so I'll let you decide for yourself if you really feel like reading.
First, the nausea has returned. This time it brought--as my college roommate Kara used to put it--"the throwup disease" with it. All yesterday my appetite was pretty low and I could barely shovel anything in, despite being pretty hungry. Last night, while brushing my teeth, I felt the impending doom approaching. Luckily I was hunched over a sink anyway. I called Adam immediately afterward for sympathy. After registering that I had indeed thrown up for the first time of my entire pregnancy, he then said very pragmatically, "Well, just turn on the faucet and wash it down!"
In less gross news, I have started showing. Well, it's apparent at least to me, when I'm nude, in front of the mirror. I'm pretty sure that tummy bulge has nothing to do with the two donuts I snarfed this morning on my way to work (I had to make up for the events of last night, right?). My jeans are starting to feel less comfortable to wear all day long, which is a little sad, since I love jeans more than most other things in life. But I've started wearing khaki fieldwork pants, because they "give" a little more when I'm sitting around the office. While I'm too early on to feel any movement yet, supposedly the Navel Orange (Wee Willie's size right now at 16+ weeks) can feel me when I poke and prod at my belly. That's kind of neat. Sometimes I poke a little and then say "This is your Mama! You better behave in there!" Other times I just sit around with my ever-growing belly in my hands and stare, amazed that this is really happening. It is completely unreal.
Exciting news:
Adam and I have been fortunate to have an extensive network of generous and thoughtful friends who have donated/lent their used baby items to us for Wee Willie's comfort and joy. So far, we have amassed many, many clothes, a baby Bjorn, a playmat-with-mobile, carseat, and baby tub from Seth, Sherry, Kai and Quinn; some fantastic books from Sarah and Steve that helped me make the decision to use the birth center; Wee Willie's first baby blanket from Art and Janice; and the ever-necessary cloth diapers from Trixi and Phoenix. Grandma Jayne, Aunt Shannon and Uncle Jake have given Wee Willie its first book, and Grandma Linda and Grandpa Cal sent baby its first spoon. Adam and I are SO excited and extremely grateful. Thanks to you all for your kind gifts and donations and to everyone for the caring thoughts and support.
Last piece of news:
Adam and I have made the command decision to leave the hospital that we've been working with in favor of the local birthing center. After a not-satisfying experience with my ob/gyn, a lot of extensive reading (I highly recommend "The Birth Book" by William & Martha Sears and "The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth" by Henci Goer) and heeding my own personal beliefs and gut instinct, I've decided to follow human tradition and allow my body to do the work of giving birth, not doctors, nurses, drugs and machines. The birth center is staffed by certified nurse midwives, a doula and a massage therapist. I have a couple of friends who have delivered there and have been extremely satisfied with their birth experiences. Adam and I look forward to ours as well.
So that's it for week 16. Things are good except when I'm puking in the sink; baby is growing and continuing to wreak havoc on my digestive and excretory systems; and Adam and I look forward to good things yet to come.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
I Spoke to Sam Waterston!!!
Well, sort of. He was on NPR's "Talk of the Nation" this afternoon, and since my previous attempts to e-mail a quetion to the live broadcast have always failed, I decided to pursue a different tactic--I sent the e-mail before the show actually started so I'd be among the first they received. Well, it worked. The host asked Sam Waterston my question and he really gave such a nice, nice answer.
If you don't know who he is, Sam Waterston plays the lead prosecutor on the tv show "Law & Order" (original version). While I love his character on the show, I first knew him from the film adaptation of "The Great Gatsby" and from my favorite role of his, Forrest Bedford on the 90s tv drama, "I'll Fly Away." My question asked him how he felt that show ("I'll Fly Away") changed tv and changed his perspective in general. He responded that that role to this day has impacted him and connected him to viewers more than any film or stage role he's ever portrayed. He said he loved the show because it was a good family show and really raised some pertinent issues. He also said that it allowed him to stop being snobbish about being on TV and to realize the power of that media outlet.
So, this post is really for my Mum because I used to watch "I'll Fly Away" with her and I thought she'd appreciate knowing that I got a chance to communicate with one of the great actors in Hollywood today.
If you're at all interested in hearing Sam talk to "me", you can follow this link:
http://www.npr.org/templates/calendar/index.php?prgId=5
On the calendar, click on "9", then click on the link to the Sam Waterston interview. You'll only have to go about 11 minutes into the interview.
If you don't know who he is, Sam Waterston plays the lead prosecutor on the tv show "Law & Order" (original version). While I love his character on the show, I first knew him from the film adaptation of "The Great Gatsby" and from my favorite role of his, Forrest Bedford on the 90s tv drama, "I'll Fly Away." My question asked him how he felt that show ("I'll Fly Away") changed tv and changed his perspective in general. He responded that that role to this day has impacted him and connected him to viewers more than any film or stage role he's ever portrayed. He said he loved the show because it was a good family show and really raised some pertinent issues. He also said that it allowed him to stop being snobbish about being on TV and to realize the power of that media outlet.
So, this post is really for my Mum because I used to watch "I'll Fly Away" with her and I thought she'd appreciate knowing that I got a chance to communicate with one of the great actors in Hollywood today.
If you're at all interested in hearing Sam talk to "me", you can follow this link:
http://www.npr.org/templates/calendar/index.php?prgId=5
On the calendar, click on "9", then click on the link to the Sam Waterston interview. You'll only have to go about 11 minutes into the interview.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Paging Adam M.
Just checking to see if you are reading my blog like you promised you would...personally I think you look pretty manly and rockin' in that pic in the title banner. A good ole-fashioned mountain man, if you ask me. Mmmmm....suddenly I'm really looking forward to you coming home in a couple weeks!
Call me!
Call me!
How Ya Like Me Now?
I just wasted way too much time trying to perfect the new title to this blog. I hope you like it. Actually, for all the time I just put in, you'd better like it.
Have a good rest of your Sunday, folks!
Have a good rest of your Sunday, folks!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Pulling "A Lauren"
Sorry to overwhelm you with posts today, but after reading my friend Katie's blog, www.renakabena.blogspot.com (check it out--it's hilarious!), I was reminded of a post that I've been meaning to write and keep forgetting.
I found out from my friend Sarah a few months ago that she and some other friends have dubbed a certain event "A Lauren". Some years ago, I guess I made the comment that every so often, when I go to the bathroom thinking it's for a #1, a #2 will dash out unexpectedly, all on its own. I must have asked my friends if that ever happened to them. I'm sure I mentioned it because of the inconvenience of it all--you think you're going to have a quick pitstop and then it turns into splashing and more toilet paper and, well you know the drill. Well, I guess it did happen to these friends (or they finally realized it had been happening all along), and recalling the conversation, they started saying, "So, I pulled a Lauren!" I guess I should feel proud that my name is linked with potty behavior, because it is what I find the funniest of all human activities. Now, if I can only get this copyrighted and make a little dime off it...
I found out from my friend Sarah a few months ago that she and some other friends have dubbed a certain event "A Lauren". Some years ago, I guess I made the comment that every so often, when I go to the bathroom thinking it's for a #1, a #2 will dash out unexpectedly, all on its own. I must have asked my friends if that ever happened to them. I'm sure I mentioned it because of the inconvenience of it all--you think you're going to have a quick pitstop and then it turns into splashing and more toilet paper and, well you know the drill. Well, I guess it did happen to these friends (or they finally realized it had been happening all along), and recalling the conversation, they started saying, "So, I pulled a Lauren!" I guess I should feel proud that my name is linked with potty behavior, because it is what I find the funniest of all human activities. Now, if I can only get this copyrighted and make a little dime off it...
Trifling
Does everyone know this word? I seem to remember back in high school using this word and a bunch of classmates not knowing the meaning. Essentially, it means "petty" or "trivial". For example, if I were too lazy to go outside and pick up the paper, and I were to call a neighbor and ask them to come over just so they'd pick up my newspaper on the way in, that would be trifling. Or, if I were going out to dinner with friends and I accidentally-on-purpose forgot my wallet so someone would have to pick up my tab for me--that would be trifling.
There are less intentional versions of trifling, too, though. Like what I heard from my friend Michelle last night. She and her fiance, Micah (both white), are getting married in Memphis, TN this coming April. They hunted around for several places to have the reception, but finally settled on...the Civil Rights Museum in downtown Memphis. She says it has a beautiful banquet hall and hosts lots of receptions and such there. The 'trifling' part comes in now...they're getting married on April 4...the same day that Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed, just a couple blocks from that very spot, some 41 years before. I know I shouldn't have, but I laughed till my sides hurt when I heard that news. Now I REALLY hope that I'll be able to go to the wedding.
There are less intentional versions of trifling, too, though. Like what I heard from my friend Michelle last night. She and her fiance, Micah (both white), are getting married in Memphis, TN this coming April. They hunted around for several places to have the reception, but finally settled on...the Civil Rights Museum in downtown Memphis. She says it has a beautiful banquet hall and hosts lots of receptions and such there. The 'trifling' part comes in now...they're getting married on April 4...the same day that Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed, just a couple blocks from that very spot, some 41 years before. I know I shouldn't have, but I laughed till my sides hurt when I heard that news. Now I REALLY hope that I'll be able to go to the wedding.
The One About The Hat
Sorry for the delay...so many things happened over the holiday (and have been keeping me busy since) that I've been writing this post in stops and starts. Hope you enjoy!
I won't bore you with too many details about the holiday itself--we ended up going to Adam's boss's house for Thanksgiving dinner, which was unexpectedly fun, then had some quality time together for the rest of the evening (*wink*). Friday we spent way too much money with the Black Friday shopping, still managing to get some great deals despite waking up at a reasonable hour to go out. That evening we drove to my sister's and brother-in-law's coffee shop for their Friday night Open Mic Night. Saturday morning we visited two of my gal pals from high school who are also pregnant. Adam actually had a hard time tearing himself away from the pregnancy stories to go hang out with the guys! I was really impressed and flattered that he took such an interest. Saturday evening we spent with my Mum, brother and little nephew, while Mum and I cooked up another T-day dinner. Sunday morning was spent with my Mum, then letting our new GPS unit take us on what-should-have-been-a-2-hour-trip-back-to-the-hotel-but-turned-into-almost-4-hours-on-dark-rainy-backroads-of-Virginia. We got ourselves a nice pizza Sunday night for dinner then got Adam ready for Monday morning class. Monday I spent vegging in front of murder-mystery shows on the "Investigation Discovery" channel; I only tore myself away long enough to take Kika for a walk around town, and to accompany Adam to the doctor to get his sprained knee checked out (he's fine).
The real story was the flight home. Well, first, the flight out. I had Kika with me, who was an absolute doll in her little carrier. I think she actually enjoyed having her little quarters to herself, and she didn't snap even once at all the rude and annoying faces and fingers that made their way eye level with her sanctuary. When I got to the security gate, I did everything right--took off my shoes, and put all my belongings in a bin to pass through the scanner. As per the TSA officer's instructions, I took Kika out of her carrier, sent that through the scanner, and held her in my arms as we walked through the security arch. In previous trips, I've found that if I walk through too fast it doesn't scan me properly so I have to walk through a second time. I figured that with the additional load of Kika in my arms, I'd better walk through a little more slowly to ensure that the both of us were scanned thoroughly. Bad idea. The TSA agent on the other side (literally) yelled at me in front of everyone, saying that I needed to walk normally through the gate, so I had to go through it yet again. This time, I walked as normally as I could, with the eyes of every curious passenger on me and my little dog, as the agent then told me, upon my successful passage, that he thought I was trying to "hide something" because of my previously failed attempt. Indignantly, but with as much respect as I could muster at such a public humiliation, I retorted, "Uh...NO...I thought that if I passed through more slowly the scanner would read me more thoroughly!" Then I got the hell out of there before I pissed anyone off and got delayed by the TSA.
So, then, the flight back home on Tuesday morning. My flight left at 6am, so Ads and I had to get up at 4am in order to shower, dress and get ready to be at the airport by 5am. By the time we got there, the full realization that I was leaving (without Adam OR Kika) had set in and I got teary. Realizing that they'd be here to visit me for Xmas in 2 1/2 weeks made it only marginally better. By the time I'd said good-bye and headed to the ticket counter, I was in foul spirits and still sopping up tears with my sleeve. The ticket counter folks were inappropriately peppy for 5 in the morning. In particular, one tall tall blonde spotted me and started exclaiming about the hat I was wearing. It's one of those hats with ear flaps and tassels; mine has the British flag emblazoned all around it. I got it for Xmas one year from Adam's sister, who lives in England with her family. Well, it definitely hit a nerve with this woman at the ticket counter, who started exclaiming to all of her coworkers, "Look at her hat! Check it out! Isn't it the cutest ever? Omigod, I love that hat!" Then she starts barraging me with questions about it: "Where did you get it? How can I get one?" It was a bit much for so early in the morning, so I mumbled that I'd gotten it from my sister-in-law who is married to a Brit. The woman screams back, "So am I! Omigod!" So I gave her one last look and said, "Well, I guess you'll have to go to England." Almost fainting with enthusiam, she shrieks back, "Well, I'm leaving for England tomorrow!" Well, jolly gee whiz for her.
After NOT passing through security (who knew that fruit jam is a liquid?), I had to go back to the ticket counter, pay $15 to check my bag and then deal with the TSA agents all over again. The woman smugly asked me if I'd checked my luggage as she had me take off my shoes a second time and repeat my walk of humiliation through the arch. After a short wait at the gate, I boarded my plane, only to find (who else?) "hat girl" as my flight attendant. As soon as she saw me, she exclaimed, "Oh, you're the girl with the cute hat!" I tried to muster a smile, but at this point, it was only 6am, and after the hat diatribe, the liquids/gels/lotions/checked baggage fiasco, I was in no mood to talk about my hat. But she was! Everytime she passed me walking down the aisle, she'd murmur, "I just LOVE that hat!" People started twisting around in their seats to stare at my hat. Finally, right before the flight attendants had to "prepare the cabin for takeoff", "hat girl" comes up to me with her camera and says, "Excuse me, but would you mind if I took a picture of your hat so I could show my husband what I want for Christmas?" I wanted to explode in her face, tell her to stop annoying a paying customer, anything to get Ms. Happy-in-the-morning out of my face. But, of course, I didn't. I just mumbled, "sure" and purposely turned my head so the camera wouldn't get a picture of my face, just the hat. She left me alone for the rest of the flight.
In other TSA stories, a friend of mine recently told me how she got stopped at the security gate because of a $30 jar of Aveda hair wax she had in her luggage (isn't wax a solid?). They wouldn't let her go through with it, so she either had to check her luggage or have it thrown out. Well, risking arrest (literally), she deflected the agent's attention to other items in her bag and knocked the offending Aveda wax back into her purse, then quickly closed up everything and marched right through security. Part of me wishes I had her chutzpah; the other part of me says she's going to be arrested one day.
We're getting loads of snow here today--on top of the 4 inches that were on the ground upon my return on Tuesday, we've accumulated an additional 3 inches or snow, and we're supposed to get another 2-3 this weekend. "Walking in a winter wonderland!"
I won't bore you with too many details about the holiday itself--we ended up going to Adam's boss's house for Thanksgiving dinner, which was unexpectedly fun, then had some quality time together for the rest of the evening (*wink*). Friday we spent way too much money with the Black Friday shopping, still managing to get some great deals despite waking up at a reasonable hour to go out. That evening we drove to my sister's and brother-in-law's coffee shop for their Friday night Open Mic Night. Saturday morning we visited two of my gal pals from high school who are also pregnant. Adam actually had a hard time tearing himself away from the pregnancy stories to go hang out with the guys! I was really impressed and flattered that he took such an interest. Saturday evening we spent with my Mum, brother and little nephew, while Mum and I cooked up another T-day dinner. Sunday morning was spent with my Mum, then letting our new GPS unit take us on what-should-have-been-a-2-hour-trip-back-to-the-hotel-but-turned-into-almost-4-hours-on-dark-rainy-backroads-of-Virginia. We got ourselves a nice pizza Sunday night for dinner then got Adam ready for Monday morning class. Monday I spent vegging in front of murder-mystery shows on the "Investigation Discovery" channel; I only tore myself away long enough to take Kika for a walk around town, and to accompany Adam to the doctor to get his sprained knee checked out (he's fine).
The real story was the flight home. Well, first, the flight out. I had Kika with me, who was an absolute doll in her little carrier. I think she actually enjoyed having her little quarters to herself, and she didn't snap even once at all the rude and annoying faces and fingers that made their way eye level with her sanctuary. When I got to the security gate, I did everything right--took off my shoes, and put all my belongings in a bin to pass through the scanner. As per the TSA officer's instructions, I took Kika out of her carrier, sent that through the scanner, and held her in my arms as we walked through the security arch. In previous trips, I've found that if I walk through too fast it doesn't scan me properly so I have to walk through a second time. I figured that with the additional load of Kika in my arms, I'd better walk through a little more slowly to ensure that the both of us were scanned thoroughly. Bad idea. The TSA agent on the other side (literally) yelled at me in front of everyone, saying that I needed to walk normally through the gate, so I had to go through it yet again. This time, I walked as normally as I could, with the eyes of every curious passenger on me and my little dog, as the agent then told me, upon my successful passage, that he thought I was trying to "hide something" because of my previously failed attempt. Indignantly, but with as much respect as I could muster at such a public humiliation, I retorted, "Uh...NO...I thought that if I passed through more slowly the scanner would read me more thoroughly!" Then I got the hell out of there before I pissed anyone off and got delayed by the TSA.
So, then, the flight back home on Tuesday morning. My flight left at 6am, so Ads and I had to get up at 4am in order to shower, dress and get ready to be at the airport by 5am. By the time we got there, the full realization that I was leaving (without Adam OR Kika) had set in and I got teary. Realizing that they'd be here to visit me for Xmas in 2 1/2 weeks made it only marginally better. By the time I'd said good-bye and headed to the ticket counter, I was in foul spirits and still sopping up tears with my sleeve. The ticket counter folks were inappropriately peppy for 5 in the morning. In particular, one tall tall blonde spotted me and started exclaiming about the hat I was wearing. It's one of those hats with ear flaps and tassels; mine has the British flag emblazoned all around it. I got it for Xmas one year from Adam's sister, who lives in England with her family. Well, it definitely hit a nerve with this woman at the ticket counter, who started exclaiming to all of her coworkers, "Look at her hat! Check it out! Isn't it the cutest ever? Omigod, I love that hat!" Then she starts barraging me with questions about it: "Where did you get it? How can I get one?" It was a bit much for so early in the morning, so I mumbled that I'd gotten it from my sister-in-law who is married to a Brit. The woman screams back, "So am I! Omigod!" So I gave her one last look and said, "Well, I guess you'll have to go to England." Almost fainting with enthusiam, she shrieks back, "Well, I'm leaving for England tomorrow!" Well, jolly gee whiz for her.
After NOT passing through security (who knew that fruit jam is a liquid?), I had to go back to the ticket counter, pay $15 to check my bag and then deal with the TSA agents all over again. The woman smugly asked me if I'd checked my luggage as she had me take off my shoes a second time and repeat my walk of humiliation through the arch. After a short wait at the gate, I boarded my plane, only to find (who else?) "hat girl" as my flight attendant. As soon as she saw me, she exclaimed, "Oh, you're the girl with the cute hat!" I tried to muster a smile, but at this point, it was only 6am, and after the hat diatribe, the liquids/gels/lotions/checked baggage fiasco, I was in no mood to talk about my hat. But she was! Everytime she passed me walking down the aisle, she'd murmur, "I just LOVE that hat!" People started twisting around in their seats to stare at my hat. Finally, right before the flight attendants had to "prepare the cabin for takeoff", "hat girl" comes up to me with her camera and says, "Excuse me, but would you mind if I took a picture of your hat so I could show my husband what I want for Christmas?" I wanted to explode in her face, tell her to stop annoying a paying customer, anything to get Ms. Happy-in-the-morning out of my face. But, of course, I didn't. I just mumbled, "sure" and purposely turned my head so the camera wouldn't get a picture of my face, just the hat. She left me alone for the rest of the flight.
In other TSA stories, a friend of mine recently told me how she got stopped at the security gate because of a $30 jar of Aveda hair wax she had in her luggage (isn't wax a solid?). They wouldn't let her go through with it, so she either had to check her luggage or have it thrown out. Well, risking arrest (literally), she deflected the agent's attention to other items in her bag and knocked the offending Aveda wax back into her purse, then quickly closed up everything and marched right through security. Part of me wishes I had her chutzpah; the other part of me says she's going to be arrested one day.
We're getting loads of snow here today--on top of the 4 inches that were on the ground upon my return on Tuesday, we've accumulated an additional 3 inches or snow, and we're supposed to get another 2-3 this weekend. "Walking in a winter wonderland!"
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Chris-saaaaaaaaay--This One's For You!
I spoke to my sister-in-law (Adam's brother's wife) last night (one of my top ten favorite things to do) and she mentioned that in all my blogs, she has not once seen her name been mentioned. I reminded her that because we become gossipy bitches when our phone lines connect, there's not much that I could write about her that wouldn't divulge some of my innermost gossip topics.
However, since I love to tell a story, a funny, gossipy one at that, I'll tell the story of how I first met my friend and sister-in-law Christine.
Adam and I had been dating for several months in October 1999 when we went to visit his brother Scott in New Jersey for a few hours. While we were there, Scott mentioned that he'd started dating a new girl, Christine, and that he'd really like for us to meet her. So he called her and asked her to come over to meet Adam and me for a little while. I could hear her voice on the other end of the phone saying she didn't want to come over. Right away, I was a little miffed; so Scott's new girlfriend doesn't want to come meet us? Granted, he'd just had a volatile breakup with his last girlfriend, who literally had turned out to be a nut job (let's just say that the end involved a car being driven on the New York City sidewalk; a clawed, scratched and bloody Scott; and Adam's missing bottle of wine). So, I was a little jaded about the women in Scott's life. However, after he finally convinced her to come over, I started to look forward to having another woman to hang out with, and possibly do some double dating with. At the time, Adam and I didn't have many other couples to hang out with. Then, 15 minutes later, she walked in. Christine looked eerily like the crazy nut job girlfriend from before, and she had a pompous air about her (that was only bolstered by her long, fur-lined coat). She barely said hello to Adam and me, and sat quietly, not talking for the rest of the afternoon. My "miffiness" was buoyed. Hmmmph.
Well, because men are men and don't pick up on anything, including lack of chemistry (Christine's and mine, that is), Adam and Scott suggested going to Costco to do some shopping. Once again, Christine protested (and I wanted to protest because I didn't know if I could handle another minute with Miss Sourpuss), but Scott managed to convince her to go with us. We arrive at Costco, and of course, the boys head off toward the gadgets, suggesting that we ladies "go look at clothes or something". I had that steely feeling in me that I was going through the motions, trying to be nice to some woman that obviously had no interest in me, and who I was at that point hoping not to have to spend much more time with. We shuffled around through the clothing, then ended up perusing the books and novels table. This was the time when "pet autobiographies" (a la "Marley and Me") were just starting to become fashionable, so being the dog enthusiast that I am, I picked up a few such novels and started telling Christine about Shabbi and Kika. I asked her if she had any pets.
...that was the turning point that changed everything.
Christine said, "Yeah, I've got two cats. One's called Gimpy, and the other one's called Big Fatty." Now, you have to imagine her talking with her strong New Jersey accent, which just makes the story (even to me, now 9 years later) absolutely hilarious.
I did a double take and said, "Gimpy? Big Fatty? Those are some names for cats."
Without smiling or missing a beat, she went on. "Well, Gimpy's real name is Elvis, but when I got him he'd just been hit by a car so he had a limp, so I started calling him The Gimp. Oh, but he gets around just fine now."
I started to look at this girl again. Not only was she not smiling at her own story, but she wasn't even looking at me. A story that was starting to break down the wall I'd put up against her didn't even cause her to blink. I took a shot. "So, why is Big Fatty called Big Fatty?"
Once again she responded matter-of-factly, "Oh, because he weighs 33 pounds. He's really fat."
I laughed in spite of myself. Thirty-three pounds???? That cat was 3 Kikas! How could it be? I just couldn't fathom such a large cat, and so I asked her if she'd had him since he was a kitten.
For the first time, Christine almost cracked a smile. "No, no, but it's a funny story, actually. I was working at my job and one of the girls who worked there was telling me that she had this cat that she couldn't keep anymore and wondered if I'd want it. I wanted a cat, so I told her that I'd take it and see if things worked out. So she and her husband lived about an hour or so away from where I did, so my dad came over to my place that weekend and waited with me for the girl and her husband to show up with the cat. When they drove up, I asked them if they wanted to come in for awhile--ya know, 'cause they'd been driving for a long time and maybe they needed to use the bathroom or something--but they said they were in a hurry and had someplace to be. I was surprised they were in such a rush, but didn't think much of it. I went to the car to help get the cat carrier out, but the husband insisted on carrying it inside the house for me. They were practically out of the door already by the time the cat was inside my place. I couldn't figure out why they were in such a hurry to leave. I asked them again if they wanted to stay for awhile, but they kept saying that they really had to be on their way and they'd see me later. Then they were gone.
So my father and I are standing in my living room with this cat in the carrier. I opened the door to the carrier to let the cat come out but it wouldn't move. My father said, 'Christine, I'll pick it up and turn it over so the cat falls out and you catch it, okay?' So that's what we did. But, Lauren, as soon as my dad picked up that carrier, he said, 'Christine, what the f-ck is in this thing? This f-cking thing weighs a ton!' I was starting to understand why the husband didn't want me to carry the cat into the house! So anyway, dad picks up this carrier, turns it sideways, and this cat starts oozing out. Lauren, the cat was just coming and coming! There was so much cat, and my dad is yelling at me, like 'What the hell kinda cat is this?' and I'm yelling back that I don't know what the hell this cat is. Anyway, this thing finally comes completely out of the carrier and dad and I are standing there looking at this big fat cat, with just layers and layers of fat and skin hanging all around him." Finally, she stops and takes a breath and looks at me. Then with a big loud laugh, she shrieks, "So that's Big Fatty!" and starts giggling.
I was already in tears, I was laughing so hard at her story. I couldn't believe the details, but I couldn't believe what a good storyteller she was either. She captured the whole scene in such a way that I felt like I was there. And, most of all, I couldn't believe that the seemingly sullen, sourpuss girl from the afternoon had turned into a hilariously cool gal that evening. From that moment on, Christine and I have been close close friends.
It was only years later that she revealed to that she was in a sour mood that day because she was due to have surgery early the following morning, and so she really didn't want to hang out with us that evening. I felt awful; had I known that had been what was going on, I would have been so much more understanding.
For years now, we've referred to each other as sister-in-laws, even when Adam and I weren't married. Christine is one of my closest friends and one of my favorite relatives. So, not to be sappy, but I feel extremely lucky to have a friend as good as Christine, who can make me laugh as hard today as she did that first night. And there's no better person to gossip with about anything and everything.
I love ya, kiddo, and hope this post makes you laugh.
However, since I love to tell a story, a funny, gossipy one at that, I'll tell the story of how I first met my friend and sister-in-law Christine.
Adam and I had been dating for several months in October 1999 when we went to visit his brother Scott in New Jersey for a few hours. While we were there, Scott mentioned that he'd started dating a new girl, Christine, and that he'd really like for us to meet her. So he called her and asked her to come over to meet Adam and me for a little while. I could hear her voice on the other end of the phone saying she didn't want to come over. Right away, I was a little miffed; so Scott's new girlfriend doesn't want to come meet us? Granted, he'd just had a volatile breakup with his last girlfriend, who literally had turned out to be a nut job (let's just say that the end involved a car being driven on the New York City sidewalk; a clawed, scratched and bloody Scott; and Adam's missing bottle of wine). So, I was a little jaded about the women in Scott's life. However, after he finally convinced her to come over, I started to look forward to having another woman to hang out with, and possibly do some double dating with. At the time, Adam and I didn't have many other couples to hang out with. Then, 15 minutes later, she walked in. Christine looked eerily like the crazy nut job girlfriend from before, and she had a pompous air about her (that was only bolstered by her long, fur-lined coat). She barely said hello to Adam and me, and sat quietly, not talking for the rest of the afternoon. My "miffiness" was buoyed. Hmmmph.
Well, because men are men and don't pick up on anything, including lack of chemistry (Christine's and mine, that is), Adam and Scott suggested going to Costco to do some shopping. Once again, Christine protested (and I wanted to protest because I didn't know if I could handle another minute with Miss Sourpuss), but Scott managed to convince her to go with us. We arrive at Costco, and of course, the boys head off toward the gadgets, suggesting that we ladies "go look at clothes or something". I had that steely feeling in me that I was going through the motions, trying to be nice to some woman that obviously had no interest in me, and who I was at that point hoping not to have to spend much more time with. We shuffled around through the clothing, then ended up perusing the books and novels table. This was the time when "pet autobiographies" (a la "Marley and Me") were just starting to become fashionable, so being the dog enthusiast that I am, I picked up a few such novels and started telling Christine about Shabbi and Kika. I asked her if she had any pets.
...that was the turning point that changed everything.
Christine said, "Yeah, I've got two cats. One's called Gimpy, and the other one's called Big Fatty." Now, you have to imagine her talking with her strong New Jersey accent, which just makes the story (even to me, now 9 years later) absolutely hilarious.
I did a double take and said, "Gimpy? Big Fatty? Those are some names for cats."
Without smiling or missing a beat, she went on. "Well, Gimpy's real name is Elvis, but when I got him he'd just been hit by a car so he had a limp, so I started calling him The Gimp. Oh, but he gets around just fine now."
I started to look at this girl again. Not only was she not smiling at her own story, but she wasn't even looking at me. A story that was starting to break down the wall I'd put up against her didn't even cause her to blink. I took a shot. "So, why is Big Fatty called Big Fatty?"
Once again she responded matter-of-factly, "Oh, because he weighs 33 pounds. He's really fat."
I laughed in spite of myself. Thirty-three pounds???? That cat was 3 Kikas! How could it be? I just couldn't fathom such a large cat, and so I asked her if she'd had him since he was a kitten.
For the first time, Christine almost cracked a smile. "No, no, but it's a funny story, actually. I was working at my job and one of the girls who worked there was telling me that she had this cat that she couldn't keep anymore and wondered if I'd want it. I wanted a cat, so I told her that I'd take it and see if things worked out. So she and her husband lived about an hour or so away from where I did, so my dad came over to my place that weekend and waited with me for the girl and her husband to show up with the cat. When they drove up, I asked them if they wanted to come in for awhile--ya know, 'cause they'd been driving for a long time and maybe they needed to use the bathroom or something--but they said they were in a hurry and had someplace to be. I was surprised they were in such a rush, but didn't think much of it. I went to the car to help get the cat carrier out, but the husband insisted on carrying it inside the house for me. They were practically out of the door already by the time the cat was inside my place. I couldn't figure out why they were in such a hurry to leave. I asked them again if they wanted to stay for awhile, but they kept saying that they really had to be on their way and they'd see me later. Then they were gone.
So my father and I are standing in my living room with this cat in the carrier. I opened the door to the carrier to let the cat come out but it wouldn't move. My father said, 'Christine, I'll pick it up and turn it over so the cat falls out and you catch it, okay?' So that's what we did. But, Lauren, as soon as my dad picked up that carrier, he said, 'Christine, what the f-ck is in this thing? This f-cking thing weighs a ton!' I was starting to understand why the husband didn't want me to carry the cat into the house! So anyway, dad picks up this carrier, turns it sideways, and this cat starts oozing out. Lauren, the cat was just coming and coming! There was so much cat, and my dad is yelling at me, like 'What the hell kinda cat is this?' and I'm yelling back that I don't know what the hell this cat is. Anyway, this thing finally comes completely out of the carrier and dad and I are standing there looking at this big fat cat, with just layers and layers of fat and skin hanging all around him." Finally, she stops and takes a breath and looks at me. Then with a big loud laugh, she shrieks, "So that's Big Fatty!" and starts giggling.
I was already in tears, I was laughing so hard at her story. I couldn't believe the details, but I couldn't believe what a good storyteller she was either. She captured the whole scene in such a way that I felt like I was there. And, most of all, I couldn't believe that the seemingly sullen, sourpuss girl from the afternoon had turned into a hilariously cool gal that evening. From that moment on, Christine and I have been close close friends.
It was only years later that she revealed to that she was in a sour mood that day because she was due to have surgery early the following morning, and so she really didn't want to hang out with us that evening. I felt awful; had I known that had been what was going on, I would have been so much more understanding.
For years now, we've referred to each other as sister-in-laws, even when Adam and I weren't married. Christine is one of my closest friends and one of my favorite relatives. So, not to be sappy, but I feel extremely lucky to have a friend as good as Christine, who can make me laugh as hard today as she did that first night. And there's no better person to gossip with about anything and everything.
I love ya, kiddo, and hope this post makes you laugh.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Getting My Move On
So, tomorrow I leave for warm temperatures, warm holidays, and my warm husband. As I wrote previously, I booked a flight out to Virginia to visit Adam for the holiday week. I decided to spoil myself a little bit and really spend some quality time with him there, enjoying the weather and taking the opportunity to see my family, too. Adam is heading out to Michigan for Christmas, so we won't be seeing either of our families for Xmas or New Years' this go round. However, we're hoping to have a spring family gathering after The Fist is born (s/he is the size of a clenched fist now) so our families a) can all see the baby at once, and b) can finally meet each other after 10 years of Adam and I being together. Hmmmmmm...two grandmas and one new grandchild to fight over? This will be interesting...
So, I don't know what my computer access will be like in the week that I'll be gone, but I'll post if/when I can. Otherwise, I'll take pictures and post those and many holiday stories upon my return.
Safe travels to everyone who is travelling, and safe eating to all those who feel the need to stuff themselves. No bursting this year, please.
So, I don't know what my computer access will be like in the week that I'll be gone, but I'll post if/when I can. Otherwise, I'll take pictures and post those and many holiday stories upon my return.
Safe travels to everyone who is travelling, and safe eating to all those who feel the need to stuff themselves. No bursting this year, please.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Michigan Snowfall
It's snowing here in Michigan (surprise, surprise)! As much as we all complain and carry on, it really is so beautiful. Here are a few shots I just took outside my office. The snow has gotten even heavier in the last few minutes and everything is covered in a beautiful down blanket. What a way to welcome in the holiday week!
Friday, November 21, 2008
This Job Is For the Birds
Yesterday, one of the undergraduate technicians came into the lab to tell me that she'd noticed a bunch of dead birds on the ledge outside the 2nd floor window. When I went to inspect, sure enough, there were six Cedar Waxwings lying dead amongst the pebbles on the ledge. Upon closer inspection, the technician realized that there were splatter marks on the window, which indicated all six birds had died on impact. Cedar Waxwings are a colonial (flocking) species; my guess is that they were flying around together, flew into the little alcove above the ledge because it's enclosed and a bit warmer, and slammed into the window. Poor things, they are truly amongst the most beautiful of songbirds. Not that any birds deserve to die (except maybe invasives like Song Sparrows and Starlings), but you know how you sometimes get a little extra sad when the teen who died in the car crash was really striking? You always hear people say, "It's a shame; she was SO beautiful." That's the way it is with these birds. Well, something like that.
Anyway, I left a note for the custodial crew before leaving work yesterday to ask if I could borrow a ladder to access the ledge (the 2nd floor window doesn't open so you have to climb to the ledge from the ground). The curator at the MSU Museum was interested in having the specimens in the bird collection, so I wanted to retrieve them for her. I got a call this afternoon from the custodial supervisor. His first words after introducing himself were, "Is this a joke?" I laughed nervously and assured him that no, it was no joke, I really did want to retrieve some dead birds. He told me he didn't have a ladder tall enough, but that I could call the electrician who should have a ladder to reach the second floor ledge. I called the number he gave me and the electrician said he'd send a guy over to inspect.
I put on my surgical gloves and grabbed some plastic bags and hurried down to the entrance to meet the guy. I was fully expecting a guy carrying a big ladder to show up, but that guy didn't come. About ten minutes later, as I was debating whether to go back to my office and call to make sure someone was on the way, I heard a beeping noise. It took a few seconds to realize what it was. I stepped outside into the snowy cold and saw a big utility truck backing up to lift a hydraulic ladder with a bucket at the end up to the ledge. I asked the guy if I could go up, but he said he wasn't allowed to let anyone in the bucket. I was bummed. I could tell he was excited to go get the birds, though. I saw him climb out of the bucket, round up the six birds and then he rode the basket back down to pass the bag of birds to me. We were both pretty psyched. I thanked him and he grinned. We're both featherbrains, I think.
In other news, I cried in the shower this morning. I cried not because I had to go to work, or because I missed Adam, or because the economy is tanking. Nope, I cried at the thought of the last episode of "Gilmore Girls" where Rory decides to leave Stars Hollow for a permanent job, Lorelei and Luke finally get together for real, and Lorelei and Rory have their final breakfast together at Luke's diner, just like in the last scene of the very first episode. Even now, just writing it, I'm getting teary. I love that show.
Tonight I am breaking tradition. Usually I go every year to Lansing's "Silver Bells in the City" with Adam. We drink cup after cup of free hot chocolate, I run around endlessly looking for a toilet to potty in, we watch the electric light parade go by, I drink more hot chocolate against my better judgement, and we go to all the stores in downtown that stay open late for the occasion. It's been our "thing" for several years now, and we've always loved it. Tonight is "Silver Bells" and Adam is not in town to share it with me. I debated skipping it altogether out of respect for Adam's homesickness, but decided instead to go and have enough fun for the both of us. And I mean that in the most non-selfish way I can. I'm going with a friend and we'll have a good time, drink loads of hot chocolate, take lots of bathroom breaks, and we'll cap the night off with a movie and takeout. Well, it's almost like having Adam here; I just don't know how "lucky" I'll get with her after the movie's over. *smirk*
GOOD NIGHT EVERYONE!
Anyway, I left a note for the custodial crew before leaving work yesterday to ask if I could borrow a ladder to access the ledge (the 2nd floor window doesn't open so you have to climb to the ledge from the ground). The curator at the MSU Museum was interested in having the specimens in the bird collection, so I wanted to retrieve them for her. I got a call this afternoon from the custodial supervisor. His first words after introducing himself were, "Is this a joke?" I laughed nervously and assured him that no, it was no joke, I really did want to retrieve some dead birds. He told me he didn't have a ladder tall enough, but that I could call the electrician who should have a ladder to reach the second floor ledge. I called the number he gave me and the electrician said he'd send a guy over to inspect.
I put on my surgical gloves and grabbed some plastic bags and hurried down to the entrance to meet the guy. I was fully expecting a guy carrying a big ladder to show up, but that guy didn't come. About ten minutes later, as I was debating whether to go back to my office and call to make sure someone was on the way, I heard a beeping noise. It took a few seconds to realize what it was. I stepped outside into the snowy cold and saw a big utility truck backing up to lift a hydraulic ladder with a bucket at the end up to the ledge. I asked the guy if I could go up, but he said he wasn't allowed to let anyone in the bucket. I was bummed. I could tell he was excited to go get the birds, though. I saw him climb out of the bucket, round up the six birds and then he rode the basket back down to pass the bag of birds to me. We were both pretty psyched. I thanked him and he grinned. We're both featherbrains, I think.
In other news, I cried in the shower this morning. I cried not because I had to go to work, or because I missed Adam, or because the economy is tanking. Nope, I cried at the thought of the last episode of "Gilmore Girls" where Rory decides to leave Stars Hollow for a permanent job, Lorelei and Luke finally get together for real, and Lorelei and Rory have their final breakfast together at Luke's diner, just like in the last scene of the very first episode. Even now, just writing it, I'm getting teary. I love that show.
Tonight I am breaking tradition. Usually I go every year to Lansing's "Silver Bells in the City" with Adam. We drink cup after cup of free hot chocolate, I run around endlessly looking for a toilet to potty in, we watch the electric light parade go by, I drink more hot chocolate against my better judgement, and we go to all the stores in downtown that stay open late for the occasion. It's been our "thing" for several years now, and we've always loved it. Tonight is "Silver Bells" and Adam is not in town to share it with me. I debated skipping it altogether out of respect for Adam's homesickness, but decided instead to go and have enough fun for the both of us. And I mean that in the most non-selfish way I can. I'm going with a friend and we'll have a good time, drink loads of hot chocolate, take lots of bathroom breaks, and we'll cap the night off with a movie and takeout. Well, it's almost like having Adam here; I just don't know how "lucky" I'll get with her after the movie's over. *smirk*
GOOD NIGHT EVERYONE!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
But, Seriously...
Today's a serious post day, everyone. I looked at the frontpage of the local newspaper and saw that a woman I know, from my evening gardening class, has been reported missing for the last 9 days. I had noticed that she hadn't been in class for awhile, but I'd assumed that she had just dropped. So sad and sorry to see that something much graver is occurring.
Her name is Krista Lueth; she is 34 years old, 5'4", 125 lbs, and a horticulture student at MSU. We had a few brief conversations about growing and maintaing a vegetable garden, as well as our respective studies at MSU. She's a nice woman, really intelligent and always quite vocal in class. I wish her a safe homecoming.
Here is the link to the story about her; if you are a Lansing resident, please take a look at her picture in case you've seen her recently. I'm hoping that every little bit can count to bring her home safely.
http://www.lansingstatejournal.com/article/20081120/NEWS01/811200373
Keep her family and friends in your thoughts.
Her name is Krista Lueth; she is 34 years old, 5'4", 125 lbs, and a horticulture student at MSU. We had a few brief conversations about growing and maintaing a vegetable garden, as well as our respective studies at MSU. She's a nice woman, really intelligent and always quite vocal in class. I wish her a safe homecoming.
Here is the link to the story about her; if you are a Lansing resident, please take a look at her picture in case you've seen her recently. I'm hoping that every little bit can count to bring her home safely.
http://www.lansingstatejournal.com/article/20081120/NEWS01/811200373
Keep her family and friends in your thoughts.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
House, MD--"Medical Disaster"
Adam is going to kill me. Well, he might torture me a bit if he doesn't slice me and dice me first.
This morning I had to take Gregory House to the vet for a teeth cleaning. If you haven't met him, you don't know about the atrocious breath he's been sporting since he entered our household. However, his perpetual skin allergies have been so all-consuming that the vet hasn't wanted to subject my poor kitty to yet another medical procedure until that was under control. At the latest visit to the vet (he's been there about 4 or 5 times since we inherited him 6 months ago), I was told that his teeth really needed to be cleaned, and we couldn't wait any longer. I booked the appointment.
I was quoted an obscene amount of money for the cleaning, but figured that it would be a one-time deal, his early Xmas present, so I went with it. House deserves to have a healthy set of chompers, and I deserve to breathe fresh air when I'm around his meow-ing mouth. However, the vet assistant just called me at work with the ever-dreaded, "do you have a few minutes?" I thought for sure she was going to tell me my little boy had died on the table. Just as my tears were starting to well up, she instead informed me that his dentistry is in much worse shape than they thought and several of his teeth would have to be extracted, virtually doubling the original obscene amount. I let her talk, all the while saying to myself, "There is NO way I'm paying for this. This was a stray cat that I took pity on; I am NOT going to break the bank over him." When she finished, I responded in a flat tone, "I can't do it. I've got a baby on the way. Even the original quote was pushing it." She conceded, and said she'd talk further with the doctor to see what he could do.
I hung up feeling only mildly satisfied with my authoritative and command decision. We are saving for the arrival of a baby, after all; I can't throw away good money on this cat.
But then my mind started to wander...to the days of Shabbi and Kika, when we would spare no expense on their health, safety and well-being, when we didn't think of them as "animals" but instead as our family. We dropped tons of money on Shabbi right up till the end of her life. How could I not do the same for my young and vibrant little kitty boy?
I called the clinic back and immediately told the vet assistant to do what needed to be done, that I would pay. When she asked if I were sure, I said "yes, he's my boy and I can't skimp on his health," before I could change my mind. She assured me that since a)he's a stray that I rescued, and b)I've spent so much money on him to this point already, they would try to tap into their kitty fund that would help alleviate some of the cost. That's a bit of a relief. It'll be an even bigger relief when I see my little kid, awake and bouncing around again.
But...I'm hoping that a few days go by before Adam decides to check my blog. And I'll slice and dice ANY of you that tries to tell him first.
This morning I had to take Gregory House to the vet for a teeth cleaning. If you haven't met him, you don't know about the atrocious breath he's been sporting since he entered our household. However, his perpetual skin allergies have been so all-consuming that the vet hasn't wanted to subject my poor kitty to yet another medical procedure until that was under control. At the latest visit to the vet (he's been there about 4 or 5 times since we inherited him 6 months ago), I was told that his teeth really needed to be cleaned, and we couldn't wait any longer. I booked the appointment.
I was quoted an obscene amount of money for the cleaning, but figured that it would be a one-time deal, his early Xmas present, so I went with it. House deserves to have a healthy set of chompers, and I deserve to breathe fresh air when I'm around his meow-ing mouth. However, the vet assistant just called me at work with the ever-dreaded, "do you have a few minutes?" I thought for sure she was going to tell me my little boy had died on the table. Just as my tears were starting to well up, she instead informed me that his dentistry is in much worse shape than they thought and several of his teeth would have to be extracted, virtually doubling the original obscene amount. I let her talk, all the while saying to myself, "There is NO way I'm paying for this. This was a stray cat that I took pity on; I am NOT going to break the bank over him." When she finished, I responded in a flat tone, "I can't do it. I've got a baby on the way. Even the original quote was pushing it." She conceded, and said she'd talk further with the doctor to see what he could do.
I hung up feeling only mildly satisfied with my authoritative and command decision. We are saving for the arrival of a baby, after all; I can't throw away good money on this cat.
But then my mind started to wander...to the days of Shabbi and Kika, when we would spare no expense on their health, safety and well-being, when we didn't think of them as "animals" but instead as our family. We dropped tons of money on Shabbi right up till the end of her life. How could I not do the same for my young and vibrant little kitty boy?
I called the clinic back and immediately told the vet assistant to do what needed to be done, that I would pay. When she asked if I were sure, I said "yes, he's my boy and I can't skimp on his health," before I could change my mind. She assured me that since a)he's a stray that I rescued, and b)I've spent so much money on him to this point already, they would try to tap into their kitty fund that would help alleviate some of the cost. That's a bit of a relief. It'll be an even bigger relief when I see my little kid, awake and bouncing around again.
But...I'm hoping that a few days go by before Adam decides to check my blog. And I'll slice and dice ANY of you that tries to tell him first.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Pomp and Circumstance...and Tassels!!!!!!
Tonight I graduate from the Urban Gardening course that I've been taking the last few months. We've covered everything from "What is a plant?" to "How best to fertilize" to "Can you put human feces in your compost bin?" (answer to that last one is a resounding NO!). It's been a very interesting class. **For any Lansing-ites out there who are interested in the course, the Allen Neighborhood Center will be offering it again in February** Now that I'll have graduated, I just have to complete 40 hours of volunteer service staffing the community greenhouse where the course is taught. So far, the staffing has been pretty easy (harvesting basil seeds, conducting a cooking demonstration); I wanted to start getting my staffing hours over with sooner rather than later since my belly will eventually make bending and stooping a little difficult.
Yesterday, I had my first prenatal appointment with a doctor. I got the good ole heist-ya-legs-up-now-scoot-down-okay-gnash-teeth examination. Everything (so far) checked out, and I also got to hear Wee Willie's heartbeat on the Doppler machine. It was clocking a steady 165 beats per minute, fast and strong and good. S/he "swam" around quite a bit, evidently trying to avoid the loud sounds from the Doppler, so the nurse had to move the radar around to find the little tyke. The nurse (Angie, I absolutely adore her) told me she could already see and feel my "baby bump" which I've been looking for for about a week now but can't quite locate. It's like in the prepubescent novel "Are you there God? It's me, Margaret" when the title character (Margaret, not God) is hoping and wishing for breasts that haven't arrived yet. But I figure if Angie can see and feel the bump, it'll only be a matter of time before I will, too.
Several people have asked me how Adam is doing out in Virginia, and he is just fabulous. We speak everyday, and I have to hand it to him, he's being everything that I need him to be in terms of being the geographically-distant-husband-and-father-to-be. He's excited, concerned, caring and misty-voiced at all the right times. He's a little homesick, but they've got him so busy between running several miles every morning and going through classes that he doesn't have a lot of time to think about it. I'm sure that Miss Kika staying with Dad for the next several months will alleviate any sadness he's got, though. I can't wait to spend Thanksgiving week with him and the family, and then Adam will come down this way for Xmas.
So....lots going on. Now I just have to decide where exactly I'll be placing those tassels tonight.
Yesterday, I had my first prenatal appointment with a doctor. I got the good ole heist-ya-legs-up-now-scoot-down-okay-gnash-teeth examination. Everything (so far) checked out, and I also got to hear Wee Willie's heartbeat on the Doppler machine. It was clocking a steady 165 beats per minute, fast and strong and good. S/he "swam" around quite a bit, evidently trying to avoid the loud sounds from the Doppler, so the nurse had to move the radar around to find the little tyke. The nurse (Angie, I absolutely adore her) told me she could already see and feel my "baby bump" which I've been looking for for about a week now but can't quite locate. It's like in the prepubescent novel "Are you there God? It's me, Margaret" when the title character (Margaret, not God) is hoping and wishing for breasts that haven't arrived yet. But I figure if Angie can see and feel the bump, it'll only be a matter of time before I will, too.
Several people have asked me how Adam is doing out in Virginia, and he is just fabulous. We speak everyday, and I have to hand it to him, he's being everything that I need him to be in terms of being the geographically-distant-husband-and-father-to-be. He's excited, concerned, caring and misty-voiced at all the right times. He's a little homesick, but they've got him so busy between running several miles every morning and going through classes that he doesn't have a lot of time to think about it. I'm sure that Miss Kika staying with Dad for the next several months will alleviate any sadness he's got, though. I can't wait to spend Thanksgiving week with him and the family, and then Adam will come down this way for Xmas.
So....lots going on. Now I just have to decide where exactly I'll be placing those tassels tonight.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Explanation
I was gently informed last night by my Adam that not everyone "gets" why I've been referring to the baby as Wee Willie. While I of all people should have recognized the potential for dirty jokes at the kid's (or my) expense, I was happily absorbed in memories of one of my favorite childhood nursery rhymes. Wee Willie Winkie is a classic English nursery rhyme about the guy who runs around town (kind of like the town crier) making sure to let parents know that it's bedtime for their kids. I always loved that rhyme, especially because the book that I read it in was published by Disney, so the illustration next to the rhyme was Goofy running around an old English town in his bedclothes (complete with a nightcap!). For anyone who is not familiar with this rhyme, I thought I'd post it here so maybe you, too, can appreciate why I like it. Now imagine a very exasperated Goofy running up and down long flights of stairs and knocking on doors.
Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Up stairs and down stairs in his night-gown,
Tapping at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the children in their bed, for it's past eight o'clock?"
"Hey, Willie Winkie, are you coming in?
The cat is singing purring sounds to the sleeping hen,
The dog's spread out on the floor, and doesn't give a cheep,
But here's a wakeful little boy who will not fall asleep!"
Anything but sleep, you rogue! glowering like the moon,
Rattling in an iron jug with an iron spoon,
Rumbling, tumbling round about, crowing like a cock,
Shrieking like I don't know what, waking sleeping folk.
"Hey, Willie Winkie - the child's in a creel!
Wriggling from everyone's knee like an eel,
Tugging at the cat's ear, and confusing all her thrums
Hey, Willie Winkie - see, there he comes!"
Weary is the mother who has a dusty child,
A small short little child, who can't run on his own,
Who always has a battle with sleep before he'll close an eye
But a kiss from his rosy lips gives strength anew to me.
Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Up stairs and down stairs in his night-gown,
Tapping at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the children in their bed, for it's past eight o'clock?"
"Hey, Willie Winkie, are you coming in?
The cat is singing purring sounds to the sleeping hen,
The dog's spread out on the floor, and doesn't give a cheep,
But here's a wakeful little boy who will not fall asleep!"
Anything but sleep, you rogue! glowering like the moon,
Rattling in an iron jug with an iron spoon,
Rumbling, tumbling round about, crowing like a cock,
Shrieking like I don't know what, waking sleeping folk.
"Hey, Willie Winkie - the child's in a creel!
Wriggling from everyone's knee like an eel,
Tugging at the cat's ear, and confusing all her thrums
Hey, Willie Winkie - see, there he comes!"
Weary is the mother who has a dusty child,
A small short little child, who can't run on his own,
Who always has a battle with sleep before he'll close an eye
But a kiss from his rosy lips gives strength anew to me.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Mantras, Musings & Medleys
Let's start off with some mantras:
2008 Election: "Yes We Can!" (or, "Si! Se Puede!", or "Ja, Wir Koennen!", or "Da!, Mui Hochum!)
2008 "Little Economy That Could": "I think I can! I think I can!"
1996 Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team: "You can do it! You better do it!" ala Bela Karolyi
Lauren getting up in the morning: "You should do it. You can do it. You need to do it...In thirty more minutes."
Musings:
I've kind of kept my opinions to myself regarding the election, so as to let a little time go by before offending anyone's still-raw battle wounds. However, in true Lauren style, I have no (as Ads would say) "inner monologue" so I'm throwing in my two cents.
As I stated several months ago, I was (and still am) a Hilary Clinton supporter. However, once the primaries started to go the way of Obama, I tentatively got on board the Barack Obama shuttle to "Change." But I kept waiting to hear what that change was going to be. As I contiued to wait, I decided to take a look at John McCain, veteran, POW, statesman, and yes, man-with-at-least-seven-houses. I started to kind of like McCain--he doesn't lean very far to the right, making him more of the centrist that I could live with for a president; he certainly had political experience and military knowledge; and I had always felt bad for the dude who seemed like a regular nice guy who got screwed over by the Bush-Rove campaigning strategies of 2000. I started to think that maybe this would be McCain's year to shine, and that maybe I could get on board with that. I mean, I didn't agree with him on everything--gay marriage, abortion rights, war in Iraq---but I didn't agree with Obama on everything, either. I was definitely in a bit of a quandry in the months before the conventions. But then a huge thing happened that sealed the deal. Actually, TWO huge things happened. McCain, against his own better judgement, picked Sarah Palin as his running mate. Okay, so he's going for the woman vote here, I get that. But the more I heard her talk (or fumble, stumble, ramble, or whatever other nonsensical thing she was doing), the more I couldn't figure why on earth she would have been chosen. It made me really question McCain's judgement, when he had a)Lieberman, his actual first choice, or b) many other qualified, right-leaning female Republicans to choose from. The Palin thing immediately turned me off as a potential supporter; actually, I feel selecting her as a running mate for the Vice Presidency is an affront to all women. We're supposed to be grateful or happy that he selected a woman, even if she can't even conduct an interview, much less be a worthy match during the debates? It was embarassing, only made much more so by Tina Fey's hilarious impressions on SNL. The other huge thing that changed my mind was McCain's political tactics. The same guy who decried the Rove-isms of the 2000 primaries (remember that rumor that McCain had fathered a black child somewhere?) was using the same tactics on Obama. Only he was using Sarah Palin as the "bad cop" to do his dirty work for him. All the "Barack Hussein! Obama" references, exaggerated ties between Obama and Bill Ayers, and lies to the public about Obama wanting sex ed classes for 5-year olds (in actuality, it was a program to keep children from being kidnapped by child predators), not supporting nuclear energy and then implying that Obama is not part of the "real America" (then what the hell am I??); it was too much. I looked at Obama, who while not all puppies and fudge, never sank to the lows that McCain did; there was a certain amount of change about him. And the substance from him that I'd been waiting for came through during the debates, when he not only held his own, but at times blew McCain out of the water. While Obama was talking about real issues, McCain and Palin were still talking about Bill Ayers. By the last two months of the campaign, the choice for me was obvious. Nothing personal, it's just politics.
Medleys:
Weird stories now. First, I had a really weird dream last night that a very parental figure in my life (who shall remain nameless for the sake of my relationship with him/her) performed a lumpectomy on my left breast. I guess I had a benign or malignant lump and it needed to come out. Instead of going to the hospital, however, I allowed this person to do an at-home surgery, and then I went shopping. I started to get worried, though, when I started to notice that my left breast no longer lined up with my right breast. I remember being worried about what Adam would think.
Second weird story; I just heard this at lunch. One of my coworkers was recounting a story about a scientific conference she attended several years ago when she was in her mid-20s. She was just about to give her talk, when she went to the refreshment table to get a cup of coffee. As she was fixing her cup, an older man sidled up next to her and asked her to hold out her hands. When she asked why, he just told her to hold out her hands, so (in the good spirit of science and professionalism) she did. He took her hands and said, "Wow, they are so smooth. I would have expected them to be much more calloused after what I saw you doing on that pole last night." She just looked at him, too stunned by his implication to say anything. She went to give her 20-minute talk, her mind reeling the whole time with the knowledge that some guy had just suggested she was a pole dancer, as if she'd be flattered, despite the fact that she was a successful scientist.
And finally, THANKS. Thanks to all the family and friends who have been reaching out to Adam and me as we go through yet another separation, and the seemingly unpredictable events of my first pregnancy. We are very grateful to everyone for your kindness, thoughtfulness and caring, and we look forward to keeping you all "in the know" as each milestone of the next several months brings more news.
So Thanks. Gracias. Vielen Dank. Spacibo.
2008 Election: "Yes We Can!" (or, "Si! Se Puede!", or "Ja, Wir Koennen!", or "Da!, Mui Hochum!)
2008 "Little Economy That Could": "I think I can! I think I can!"
1996 Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team: "You can do it! You better do it!" ala Bela Karolyi
Lauren getting up in the morning: "You should do it. You can do it. You need to do it...In thirty more minutes."
Musings:
I've kind of kept my opinions to myself regarding the election, so as to let a little time go by before offending anyone's still-raw battle wounds. However, in true Lauren style, I have no (as Ads would say) "inner monologue" so I'm throwing in my two cents.
As I stated several months ago, I was (and still am) a Hilary Clinton supporter. However, once the primaries started to go the way of Obama, I tentatively got on board the Barack Obama shuttle to "Change." But I kept waiting to hear what that change was going to be. As I contiued to wait, I decided to take a look at John McCain, veteran, POW, statesman, and yes, man-with-at-least-seven-houses. I started to kind of like McCain--he doesn't lean very far to the right, making him more of the centrist that I could live with for a president; he certainly had political experience and military knowledge; and I had always felt bad for the dude who seemed like a regular nice guy who got screwed over by the Bush-Rove campaigning strategies of 2000. I started to think that maybe this would be McCain's year to shine, and that maybe I could get on board with that. I mean, I didn't agree with him on everything--gay marriage, abortion rights, war in Iraq---but I didn't agree with Obama on everything, either. I was definitely in a bit of a quandry in the months before the conventions. But then a huge thing happened that sealed the deal. Actually, TWO huge things happened. McCain, against his own better judgement, picked Sarah Palin as his running mate. Okay, so he's going for the woman vote here, I get that. But the more I heard her talk (or fumble, stumble, ramble, or whatever other nonsensical thing she was doing), the more I couldn't figure why on earth she would have been chosen. It made me really question McCain's judgement, when he had a)Lieberman, his actual first choice, or b) many other qualified, right-leaning female Republicans to choose from. The Palin thing immediately turned me off as a potential supporter; actually, I feel selecting her as a running mate for the Vice Presidency is an affront to all women. We're supposed to be grateful or happy that he selected a woman, even if she can't even conduct an interview, much less be a worthy match during the debates? It was embarassing, only made much more so by Tina Fey's hilarious impressions on SNL. The other huge thing that changed my mind was McCain's political tactics. The same guy who decried the Rove-isms of the 2000 primaries (remember that rumor that McCain had fathered a black child somewhere?) was using the same tactics on Obama. Only he was using Sarah Palin as the "bad cop" to do his dirty work for him. All the "Barack Hussein! Obama" references, exaggerated ties between Obama and Bill Ayers, and lies to the public about Obama wanting sex ed classes for 5-year olds (in actuality, it was a program to keep children from being kidnapped by child predators), not supporting nuclear energy and then implying that Obama is not part of the "real America" (then what the hell am I??); it was too much. I looked at Obama, who while not all puppies and fudge, never sank to the lows that McCain did; there was a certain amount of change about him. And the substance from him that I'd been waiting for came through during the debates, when he not only held his own, but at times blew McCain out of the water. While Obama was talking about real issues, McCain and Palin were still talking about Bill Ayers. By the last two months of the campaign, the choice for me was obvious. Nothing personal, it's just politics.
Medleys:
Weird stories now. First, I had a really weird dream last night that a very parental figure in my life (who shall remain nameless for the sake of my relationship with him/her) performed a lumpectomy on my left breast. I guess I had a benign or malignant lump and it needed to come out. Instead of going to the hospital, however, I allowed this person to do an at-home surgery, and then I went shopping. I started to get worried, though, when I started to notice that my left breast no longer lined up with my right breast. I remember being worried about what Adam would think.
Second weird story; I just heard this at lunch. One of my coworkers was recounting a story about a scientific conference she attended several years ago when she was in her mid-20s. She was just about to give her talk, when she went to the refreshment table to get a cup of coffee. As she was fixing her cup, an older man sidled up next to her and asked her to hold out her hands. When she asked why, he just told her to hold out her hands, so (in the good spirit of science and professionalism) she did. He took her hands and said, "Wow, they are so smooth. I would have expected them to be much more calloused after what I saw you doing on that pole last night." She just looked at him, too stunned by his implication to say anything. She went to give her 20-minute talk, her mind reeling the whole time with the knowledge that some guy had just suggested she was a pole dancer, as if she'd be flattered, despite the fact that she was a successful scientist.
And finally, THANKS. Thanks to all the family and friends who have been reaching out to Adam and me as we go through yet another separation, and the seemingly unpredictable events of my first pregnancy. We are very grateful to everyone for your kindness, thoughtfulness and caring, and we look forward to keeping you all "in the know" as each milestone of the next several months brings more news.
So Thanks. Gracias. Vielen Dank. Spacibo.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Well, Rested
So, this weekend was the sort of weekend I dream about---sleeping in, doing nothing, sleeping some more, making steaming cup after steaming cup of hot chocolate (the milk kind, not water), and then sleeping some more before watching really bad tv. But, despite living out my dream weekend (I tell you, ASOLUTELY NOTHING productive occurred, a true dream), I was pretty bummed. A lot of that sleeping was really my bummed-out response to missing Ads. It was a pretty overwhelming feeling, the amount of aching in my chest knowing that he was gone, far enough away that I couldn't just drive to see him, but close enough that I felt a little whiny and self-absorbed for feeling sorry for myself. So of course, the feelings of guilt just intensified my blue status. *sigh*
I did do a couple of productive things. Friday night I went out on the town with my galpal and super hot chick friend Sarah; she had two tickets to a benefit folk concert, which I was way overdressed for (think miniskirt, silk blouse and knee-high boots in a sea of jeans and t-shirts), but we rocked on. Well, it was folksy, so actually we clapped a lot and snapped our fingers as couples danced by us in a whirlwind, but it was great. Afterward, I took full advantage of my new lease on appetite and hit our local (and very hippie) Fleetwood Diner for some grub. Chowed down on spinach pie, fries and clam chowder, only to find that I had lost my appetite, so I got it all to go, then ran over (per Sarah's late-night insistence) to Schuler's bookstore to find the ultimate in baby name books. We were gleeful and giggly, and it made me a little misty-eyed for the fact that these spur-of-the-moment outings with the gals will come to a close once Wee Willie enters the scene. No doubt s/he will come with a whole new set of adventures that I will love and cherish, but there's just something about your girl time. Sarah promised me, however, that we will still have girl time, just in a whole new way. I'm holding her to it.
Saturday I vegged. I honestly don't really remember much of what I did. I volunteered at the local greenhouse for a couple hours, and picked up some groceries. But Saturday was cruelly and impolitely cold and windy and so I holed up in the house (yes, with hot chocolate). Yesterday was my complete day-of-do-nothing, although I did manage to run out for a crueller (aka twist donut for all you midwesterners) and had brunch with Mrs. Gonzales and Kika. Sunday evening I made a big pot of soup so my potatoes didn't go to waste. So while I was a complete waste this weekend, I wasn't an UTTER and complete waste.
Today is a new day. I have a new lease on life, if not my appetite. Morning (or all-day) sickness has found its way back to my stomach so the big pot of soup that's waiting for me tonight might have to wait a bit longer. However, I did manage to make a command decision in the midst of my blueness this weekend: I am not waiting until Xmas to see my man. So I splurged today and bought a ticket to see him during Thanksgiving. Even better, I splurged even more so that Kika can come with me; I think she'll stay in Virginia with Adam for awhile to give her joints a break from the Michigan cold, to give Adam a break from homesickness, and to give me a break from having two kids to take care of. As my lameness this weekend has proven, it's hard enough for me to take care of me.
I did do a couple of productive things. Friday night I went out on the town with my galpal and super hot chick friend Sarah; she had two tickets to a benefit folk concert, which I was way overdressed for (think miniskirt, silk blouse and knee-high boots in a sea of jeans and t-shirts), but we rocked on. Well, it was folksy, so actually we clapped a lot and snapped our fingers as couples danced by us in a whirlwind, but it was great. Afterward, I took full advantage of my new lease on appetite and hit our local (and very hippie) Fleetwood Diner for some grub. Chowed down on spinach pie, fries and clam chowder, only to find that I had lost my appetite, so I got it all to go, then ran over (per Sarah's late-night insistence) to Schuler's bookstore to find the ultimate in baby name books. We were gleeful and giggly, and it made me a little misty-eyed for the fact that these spur-of-the-moment outings with the gals will come to a close once Wee Willie enters the scene. No doubt s/he will come with a whole new set of adventures that I will love and cherish, but there's just something about your girl time. Sarah promised me, however, that we will still have girl time, just in a whole new way. I'm holding her to it.
Saturday I vegged. I honestly don't really remember much of what I did. I volunteered at the local greenhouse for a couple hours, and picked up some groceries. But Saturday was cruelly and impolitely cold and windy and so I holed up in the house (yes, with hot chocolate). Yesterday was my complete day-of-do-nothing, although I did manage to run out for a crueller (aka twist donut for all you midwesterners) and had brunch with Mrs. Gonzales and Kika. Sunday evening I made a big pot of soup so my potatoes didn't go to waste. So while I was a complete waste this weekend, I wasn't an UTTER and complete waste.
Today is a new day. I have a new lease on life, if not my appetite. Morning (or all-day) sickness has found its way back to my stomach so the big pot of soup that's waiting for me tonight might have to wait a bit longer. However, I did manage to make a command decision in the midst of my blueness this weekend: I am not waiting until Xmas to see my man. So I splurged today and bought a ticket to see him during Thanksgiving. Even better, I splurged even more so that Kika can come with me; I think she'll stay in Virginia with Adam for awhile to give her joints a break from the Michigan cold, to give Adam a break from homesickness, and to give me a break from having two kids to take care of. As my lameness this weekend has proven, it's hard enough for me to take care of me.
Friday, November 7, 2008
To Every Season...
Don't be afraid, it's still the same blog you know. Just thought I'd mix things up a bit now that we're well into fall. Only seemed appropriate; besides, I get sick of things easily and the seaside theme was starting to wear on me.
Happy Friday everyone!
Happy Friday everyone!
Apols and Oranges
So, apologies to all the friends and family members to whom I have not called, written or otherwise contacted in the last several weeks/months. I could use the "life is so busy" excuse, or the "pregnancy and being alone is leaving me so overwhelmed" excuse, both of which would be true. However, I'll just say that even the idea of picking up the phone to speak to anyone other than Adam, my mother or sister these days has just been too exhausting. Any of my very lovely friends that I need to catch up with would require at least a good two hour conversation to do all of the appropriate catching-up, and I just don't feel it in my bones these days. Sorry.
Oranges are the sweet news for this week, which is that I was offered a promotion at my job! Yeay! My coworker is leaving in a month's time to start a position elsewhere, so my boss needs me to pick up a bit where she is leaving off. This also means, of course, that I will not be leaving Michigan as planned. Adam and I realized that it would be more stressful than necessary for me to try to follow him as the military moves him from Virginia to Georgia over the next few months; besides, once he's in Georgia, he'll be doing field exercises that might keep him away for days at a time, so I might not see him much anyway. Add to that, all the doctors I'd have to transition through and not having any friends...So, I will stay in our nice little house for the duration, surrounded by Mrs. Gonzales ("I'm going to measure your belly every week, girl!") and the motley crew of other wonderful friends we have here in the mitten.
In other news, my sister called me yesterday to ask if I'd be opposed to my baby wearing blue if it turned out to be a girl...does my sister not know me at all?? I then informed her that all the baby clothes that I've received so far are from my friends who have twin boys; therefore, if Ads and I have a girl, she's going to be wearing loads of blue, even if the onesies says "Mommy's Little Boy". Free is free, after all. My sister says I'm going to give the kid a complex. Oh well.
Right, then. I guess that's all for now. Oh, yeah, well, just to brag (like George Castanza did about his parking mojo), I scored really big at Kroger yesterday. I went in to get a bag salad for dinner. I came out over an hour later, loaded down with crazy deals on yogurt, yogurt and more yogurt. Literally, I paid 10 cents for a yogurt cup yesterday. I hope it's not moldy inside.
Oranges are the sweet news for this week, which is that I was offered a promotion at my job! Yeay! My coworker is leaving in a month's time to start a position elsewhere, so my boss needs me to pick up a bit where she is leaving off. This also means, of course, that I will not be leaving Michigan as planned. Adam and I realized that it would be more stressful than necessary for me to try to follow him as the military moves him from Virginia to Georgia over the next few months; besides, once he's in Georgia, he'll be doing field exercises that might keep him away for days at a time, so I might not see him much anyway. Add to that, all the doctors I'd have to transition through and not having any friends...So, I will stay in our nice little house for the duration, surrounded by Mrs. Gonzales ("I'm going to measure your belly every week, girl!") and the motley crew of other wonderful friends we have here in the mitten.
In other news, my sister called me yesterday to ask if I'd be opposed to my baby wearing blue if it turned out to be a girl...does my sister not know me at all?? I then informed her that all the baby clothes that I've received so far are from my friends who have twin boys; therefore, if Ads and I have a girl, she's going to be wearing loads of blue, even if the onesies says "Mommy's Little Boy". Free is free, after all. My sister says I'm going to give the kid a complex. Oh well.
Right, then. I guess that's all for now. Oh, yeah, well, just to brag (like George Castanza did about his parking mojo), I scored really big at Kroger yesterday. I went in to get a bag salad for dinner. I came out over an hour later, loaded down with crazy deals on yogurt, yogurt and more yogurt. Literally, I paid 10 cents for a yogurt cup yesterday. I hope it's not moldy inside.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Election Day Reflection
Call me Sophia Petrillo (look that reference up if you don't get it).
Picture it: November 1980, a small suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. It was a cool, dark evening, sometime after dinner. My parents led my brother, sister and me down the back streets of our neighborhood to a house with a short line waiting outside. Once inside, surroundings were tight and cramped. I kept asking my mother what we were doing there. She kept telling me to hush, that she'd explain later. When we were back outside, on the walk home, I attempted my question one more time. She said, "Your father and I just voted for the next president." I didn't really know what that meant, but since my nickname wasn't Brenda Starr by accident, I decided to ask some follow-up questions. What is voting? What does the president do? Who did they vote for? Getting the answers to these (at the time) monumental questions was a turning point in my childhood understanding of the world. It was just a few weeks later during bathtime that my mother explained to me the idea of a "new year"; it was unfathomable to me that when 1981 hit, 1980 was gone for good.
This morning, 28 years later, I waited in line for over an hour to cast my own secret ballot. I looked around me at all of my neighbors and fellow citizens who were risking a late arrival at work, a missed bus or appointment for the sake of having their vote counted. It was amazing. In the past, Ads and I have waited 5 minutes at the most to pass through the poll booth. This morning, the line wrapped around and still trickled outside the front door. Today had a cool, late-summerish feel to the morning, and most people seemed to be in good spirits as they waited diligently for their turn at the ballot box. I heard a few people echo my thoughts of the pride they felt by the high voter turnout today. Right before leaving my ballot box, I took one last significant look at the ballot and then slipped it into the ballot machine.
So, whatever your affiliation, whoever you cast your vote for, congratulations and many thanks for taking part in this most historic of elections. You did the entire nation some good today.
Rock the vote!
Picture it: November 1980, a small suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. It was a cool, dark evening, sometime after dinner. My parents led my brother, sister and me down the back streets of our neighborhood to a house with a short line waiting outside. Once inside, surroundings were tight and cramped. I kept asking my mother what we were doing there. She kept telling me to hush, that she'd explain later. When we were back outside, on the walk home, I attempted my question one more time. She said, "Your father and I just voted for the next president." I didn't really know what that meant, but since my nickname wasn't Brenda Starr by accident, I decided to ask some follow-up questions. What is voting? What does the president do? Who did they vote for? Getting the answers to these (at the time) monumental questions was a turning point in my childhood understanding of the world. It was just a few weeks later during bathtime that my mother explained to me the idea of a "new year"; it was unfathomable to me that when 1981 hit, 1980 was gone for good.
This morning, 28 years later, I waited in line for over an hour to cast my own secret ballot. I looked around me at all of my neighbors and fellow citizens who were risking a late arrival at work, a missed bus or appointment for the sake of having their vote counted. It was amazing. In the past, Ads and I have waited 5 minutes at the most to pass through the poll booth. This morning, the line wrapped around and still trickled outside the front door. Today had a cool, late-summerish feel to the morning, and most people seemed to be in good spirits as they waited diligently for their turn at the ballot box. I heard a few people echo my thoughts of the pride they felt by the high voter turnout today. Right before leaving my ballot box, I took one last significant look at the ballot and then slipped it into the ballot machine.
So, whatever your affiliation, whoever you cast your vote for, congratulations and many thanks for taking part in this most historic of elections. You did the entire nation some good today.
Rock the vote!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Happy Halloween!
Last year on this day, we were travelling through Montana. We stopped in Bozeman and Missoula to check out all the scary Halloween decorations in people's yards. The college crowd in Montana really does it up for the occasion. By comparison, Lansing seems really lacking in spirit (pardon the pun).
What a difference a year makes. Making that cross-country trip doesn't seem like a year ago already; we had such a good time and the memories are so fresh, yet so many things have happened since then that it only makes sense that a year must have passed. It's hard to believe how different everything is now from then--we had just lost Shabbi and were consumed with grief for her passing; Adam had just returned from Iraq so we were simultaneously celebrating his arrival; we had an uncertain future ahead of us, including continued travel, the worry of finding jobs, and talk of getting married one day. Now, a year later, here we are, with so much changed. While we still grieve Shabbi's absence daily, in some ways we're able to shift the context of her passing into fond memories of her life, rather than constant sadness of her death. Adam has left again, this time for a "deployment" we can both be happy about; he's stateside, in the same time zone, and not in harm's way. And of course, the obvious changes--the nuptials and Wee Willie on the way. I'm constantly reminded these days how life really doesn't turn out the way you want it to, but sometimes it's better that it didn't. Adam and I had no plans to start trying for a family until after his training was over, so at least 6 months from now. Even more, we were hoping to already have two full-time jobs with benefits, good pay, excellent career potential, and a reason to move out of Lansing into a bigger home with fewer issues. Well, of course none of that happened (yet). But as a good friend of ours said, neither of us is getting any younger. Who's to say that 6 months from now, something might not have arisen that made getting pregnant more difficult? With Ads knocking on 39, becoming a dad now is really not a bad thing, no matter what our (perceived) circumstances are. So, with many other things in life (deployments, unemployments, etc.) we are just taking a deep breath and letting the tide come in as it may. Along with the condoms, needles and other garbage that might wash up from time to time, the tide also brings in many little treasures--sea glass, coins, messages in bottles. We're breathing easy as our tide continues to come in.
A little existentialism for your Halloween this year. Be well, have fun and be safe, friends. I'll be on my front porch in last year's recycled costume (check back to the October 2007 entries to see my "Bride of Frankenstein" getup), passing out candy to the wee ones in the neighborhood. Love you all, and may you have a most fantastic and Happiest of Halloweens!
What a difference a year makes. Making that cross-country trip doesn't seem like a year ago already; we had such a good time and the memories are so fresh, yet so many things have happened since then that it only makes sense that a year must have passed. It's hard to believe how different everything is now from then--we had just lost Shabbi and were consumed with grief for her passing; Adam had just returned from Iraq so we were simultaneously celebrating his arrival; we had an uncertain future ahead of us, including continued travel, the worry of finding jobs, and talk of getting married one day. Now, a year later, here we are, with so much changed. While we still grieve Shabbi's absence daily, in some ways we're able to shift the context of her passing into fond memories of her life, rather than constant sadness of her death. Adam has left again, this time for a "deployment" we can both be happy about; he's stateside, in the same time zone, and not in harm's way. And of course, the obvious changes--the nuptials and Wee Willie on the way. I'm constantly reminded these days how life really doesn't turn out the way you want it to, but sometimes it's better that it didn't. Adam and I had no plans to start trying for a family until after his training was over, so at least 6 months from now. Even more, we were hoping to already have two full-time jobs with benefits, good pay, excellent career potential, and a reason to move out of Lansing into a bigger home with fewer issues. Well, of course none of that happened (yet). But as a good friend of ours said, neither of us is getting any younger. Who's to say that 6 months from now, something might not have arisen that made getting pregnant more difficult? With Ads knocking on 39, becoming a dad now is really not a bad thing, no matter what our (perceived) circumstances are. So, with many other things in life (deployments, unemployments, etc.) we are just taking a deep breath and letting the tide come in as it may. Along with the condoms, needles and other garbage that might wash up from time to time, the tide also brings in many little treasures--sea glass, coins, messages in bottles. We're breathing easy as our tide continues to come in.
A little existentialism for your Halloween this year. Be well, have fun and be safe, friends. I'll be on my front porch in last year's recycled costume (check back to the October 2007 entries to see my "Bride of Frankenstein" getup), passing out candy to the wee ones in the neighborhood. Love you all, and may you have a most fantastic and Happiest of Halloweens!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
REALLY??
If you've been a Saturday Night Live fan in the last season or two, you might have seen the segment that Amy Poehler and Seth Meyers have on "Weekend Update" called, "Really?". They feature a current media piece that seems completely ridiculous, and will discuss every single ridiculous angle of it, and then look at each other and say, "Really?".
Well, that was yesterday afternoon and all day today for me. My coworker, Mary, was the Amy Poehler to my Seth Meyers. We got back into the office yesterday after a relatively long day in the field. Just as I was getting my things together to go home, I heard Mary say, "Oh, come ON!" Somehow, in that instant, I knew my day had just gotten a little longer. She came out of her office with a note, written by one of the undergraduate lab technicians that we hired to work with us this fall. In a very flippant tone ("So Mary, funny story about today...", the girl had written to Mary that she and the other technician had been involved in an accident with our lab vehicle that had left a very small scratch and dent on the driver's side. Mary immediately went outside to examine the vehicle; she came back, red-faced and steaming, stating very exactly, "Lauren, that is NO SMALL DENT." Going back to check her e-mail, she then finds a nasty-gram e-mail from the vehicle rental department on campus; a campus worker had witnessed the vehicle accident, and the technicians had driven away, leaving the scene of the accident. Oh, don't worry, it just gets better. Considering this was the THIRD accident that someone from our crew has had this season (the last of which was had by the girl who was the passenger in the vehicle this time), we assumed that the technicians would understand what proper accident reporting protocol would be. Evidently not. They did not call the police, walk to the the vehicle rental office (which was about 20 ft from where they had the accident) for help, or call Mary's or my cell phones. They just did nothing. Oh yeah, the girl who was driving at the time wrote the little note.
Mary wrote both technicians a strongly worded e-mail, emphasizing the seriousness of the accident, the expense related, and the fact that they mishandled the reporting of the accident. She told them to be in to work immediately in the morning to report the accident to the police. Mary and I talked about the ludicrousness of it all as we were leaving work--how could they have not called the police? Why would they not have called one of us to ask what to do? Why would they act as though it were no big deal when they caused fairly major damage to a university vehicle? It was pretty incomprehensible to us, but we figured we'd deal with it in the morning.
Today was a new day. Both girls came in, filed the police report and then came to the lab. After getting annoyed with US for holding them up (Mary and I were in a business meeting when the girls were waiting in the lab), we took each of them into a closed-door meeting to talk to them about the details of the accident, to express our disappointment in their behavior, and to determine where to proceed. I've really never had to do this before, but I was angry--not at the accident itself, but by the way they handled the accident--and I wanted them both to know it. The girl who was driving started crying. Personally, I think she's a good actress, so I was unmoved; I was particularly upset with her because her story of how the accident happened (she swerved to avoid another driver) did not jive with the other girl's story (there was no one there but them and girl in the driver's seat was driving too fast). I laid it on the line; without actually accusing her of lying, I told her there were inconsistencies in her story, and that it conflicted with the eyewitness account by the campus worker. She seemed surprised that I picked up on the fact that she lied. I told her that any police officer would believe a non-partial observer over her, and that from now on, she had better be careful about inventing falsehoods into her story. Not only do her lies reflect poorly on her, but also on Mary and me for hiring her.
Both girls wore hangdog faces leaving the meeting, but they seemed to bounce back relatively fast, and were all smiles leaving the lab. I was still suspicious, but what more could I do? We all have accidents, and we can't fire them for an accident. Even the police officer who came to photograph the vehicle said that the area where they had the accident is a tight squeeze, and that he has had an accident himself there with a much smaller squad car. But, he thought based on the scratch marks on the vehicle (from both the previous accident and from yesterday's) that both girls were driving much too fast for the area they were in.
The clincher for this whole story was the encounter that Mary had with the administative assistants who had to handle all the paperwork. When Mary went to file the accident report with them, she articulated how sorry we both are for this third accident of the summer, and how we've spoken to both girls about the seriousness of the situation. The assistant said she was glad to hear that, because it was the opinion of everyone in the office that both girls, when they came in earlier to file the report, seemed flippant and not at all sorry about what they'd done. Even these women were disturbed by their behavior.
REALLY????
Where do these kids come from? At what point do kids today think they are above being in trouble? When I was their age (or even at my ripe old age now), if I had wrecked a company vehicle, I would be shaking in my boots. Is there really such a difference in attitude, behavior and upbringing in the generational gap that exists between us? Really? I know from my teaching experience that there are loads of kids who feel entitled to certain things (good grades, easy exams, not having to study) and who don't feel they have to obey rules (coming to class on time, not holding conversations during lectures, not cheating). But this blatant carefree attitude and complete disrespect for authority is new even to me. I'd like to chalk it up to differences in parenting approaches, access to information and technology, loss of accountability. Maybe it's all of those things and then some, but I have to admit I'm floored, and a little scared. I never want to raise a kid who doesn't take responsibility for him/herself. So many kids today really seem to think the earth revolves around them and that they can do no wrong; so many parents support this misconception. It's sad and scary.
Well, we can't re-rear these ladies, but we can give them a dose of reality. While Mary's and my boss suggested firing both of them, we decided to put them on 2 weeks' probation (at this point, any misstep will mean the loss of their jobs) and no driving privileges. That leaves us in a bind because this now means one of us will have to drive anytime we need to send these girls somewhere. It's just one big pain in the arse.
Well, I'd better run now. I'm doing a Halloween outreach event for the BugHouse in an hour; have to go pick up the Chilean Rose-hair Tarantula.
REALLY?? Really.
Well, that was yesterday afternoon and all day today for me. My coworker, Mary, was the Amy Poehler to my Seth Meyers. We got back into the office yesterday after a relatively long day in the field. Just as I was getting my things together to go home, I heard Mary say, "Oh, come ON!" Somehow, in that instant, I knew my day had just gotten a little longer. She came out of her office with a note, written by one of the undergraduate lab technicians that we hired to work with us this fall. In a very flippant tone ("So Mary, funny story about today...", the girl had written to Mary that she and the other technician had been involved in an accident with our lab vehicle that had left a very small scratch and dent on the driver's side. Mary immediately went outside to examine the vehicle; she came back, red-faced and steaming, stating very exactly, "Lauren, that is NO SMALL DENT." Going back to check her e-mail, she then finds a nasty-gram e-mail from the vehicle rental department on campus; a campus worker had witnessed the vehicle accident, and the technicians had driven away, leaving the scene of the accident. Oh, don't worry, it just gets better. Considering this was the THIRD accident that someone from our crew has had this season (the last of which was had by the girl who was the passenger in the vehicle this time), we assumed that the technicians would understand what proper accident reporting protocol would be. Evidently not. They did not call the police, walk to the the vehicle rental office (which was about 20 ft from where they had the accident) for help, or call Mary's or my cell phones. They just did nothing. Oh yeah, the girl who was driving at the time wrote the little note.
Mary wrote both technicians a strongly worded e-mail, emphasizing the seriousness of the accident, the expense related, and the fact that they mishandled the reporting of the accident. She told them to be in to work immediately in the morning to report the accident to the police. Mary and I talked about the ludicrousness of it all as we were leaving work--how could they have not called the police? Why would they not have called one of us to ask what to do? Why would they act as though it were no big deal when they caused fairly major damage to a university vehicle? It was pretty incomprehensible to us, but we figured we'd deal with it in the morning.
Today was a new day. Both girls came in, filed the police report and then came to the lab. After getting annoyed with US for holding them up (Mary and I were in a business meeting when the girls were waiting in the lab), we took each of them into a closed-door meeting to talk to them about the details of the accident, to express our disappointment in their behavior, and to determine where to proceed. I've really never had to do this before, but I was angry--not at the accident itself, but by the way they handled the accident--and I wanted them both to know it. The girl who was driving started crying. Personally, I think she's a good actress, so I was unmoved; I was particularly upset with her because her story of how the accident happened (she swerved to avoid another driver) did not jive with the other girl's story (there was no one there but them and girl in the driver's seat was driving too fast). I laid it on the line; without actually accusing her of lying, I told her there were inconsistencies in her story, and that it conflicted with the eyewitness account by the campus worker. She seemed surprised that I picked up on the fact that she lied. I told her that any police officer would believe a non-partial observer over her, and that from now on, she had better be careful about inventing falsehoods into her story. Not only do her lies reflect poorly on her, but also on Mary and me for hiring her.
Both girls wore hangdog faces leaving the meeting, but they seemed to bounce back relatively fast, and were all smiles leaving the lab. I was still suspicious, but what more could I do? We all have accidents, and we can't fire them for an accident. Even the police officer who came to photograph the vehicle said that the area where they had the accident is a tight squeeze, and that he has had an accident himself there with a much smaller squad car. But, he thought based on the scratch marks on the vehicle (from both the previous accident and from yesterday's) that both girls were driving much too fast for the area they were in.
The clincher for this whole story was the encounter that Mary had with the administative assistants who had to handle all the paperwork. When Mary went to file the accident report with them, she articulated how sorry we both are for this third accident of the summer, and how we've spoken to both girls about the seriousness of the situation. The assistant said she was glad to hear that, because it was the opinion of everyone in the office that both girls, when they came in earlier to file the report, seemed flippant and not at all sorry about what they'd done. Even these women were disturbed by their behavior.
REALLY????
Where do these kids come from? At what point do kids today think they are above being in trouble? When I was their age (or even at my ripe old age now), if I had wrecked a company vehicle, I would be shaking in my boots. Is there really such a difference in attitude, behavior and upbringing in the generational gap that exists between us? Really? I know from my teaching experience that there are loads of kids who feel entitled to certain things (good grades, easy exams, not having to study) and who don't feel they have to obey rules (coming to class on time, not holding conversations during lectures, not cheating). But this blatant carefree attitude and complete disrespect for authority is new even to me. I'd like to chalk it up to differences in parenting approaches, access to information and technology, loss of accountability. Maybe it's all of those things and then some, but I have to admit I'm floored, and a little scared. I never want to raise a kid who doesn't take responsibility for him/herself. So many kids today really seem to think the earth revolves around them and that they can do no wrong; so many parents support this misconception. It's sad and scary.
Well, we can't re-rear these ladies, but we can give them a dose of reality. While Mary's and my boss suggested firing both of them, we decided to put them on 2 weeks' probation (at this point, any misstep will mean the loss of their jobs) and no driving privileges. That leaves us in a bind because this now means one of us will have to drive anytime we need to send these girls somewhere. It's just one big pain in the arse.
Well, I'd better run now. I'm doing a Halloween outreach event for the BugHouse in an hour; have to go pick up the Chilean Rose-hair Tarantula.
REALLY?? Really.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Travelled With Charley
So, first off, I wanted to send many thanks to all of you who have been so gracious and wonderful and supportive in response to my last post. I have to say that it wasn't easy to write; I had been turning it over in my mind for several weeks, trying to figure out exactly how I wanted to phrase the disclosure of so much news all at once. You all made it so much easier, though; we've gotten nothing but happiness, excitement and genuine encouragement. THANK YOU.
Last Thursday, Ads and I packed up the car for the what-we-thought-would-be-10-hour-but-actually-turned-out-to-be-12-hour drive from Michigan to Virginia. It was a long, but nice drive, as we had time to talk, make some decisions and just have alone time before his 6-month absence. We pulled into my sister's driveway at 7am Friday morning, briefly glanced at all the fabulous renovations she and her husband have done to the house, and then promptly fell asleep for the next few hours. The weekend was really great--my mum, sister and brother-in-law had all taken time off work to spend the weekend with us. We bummed around the house, catching up on everything and relaxing after our long drive; watched a lot of cable tv, which we don't have at home; and my mum and I caught up on some movies we've been dying to watch together ("Jane Austen Book Club" and "Sense and Sensibility"). Saturday we bummed around the house until we left in the afternoon to see my sister's and brother-in-law's coffee shop, "The Filling Station", which I wrote about in a previous entry. Their partners, Debbie and Eric, were there and ready for Open Mic Night, which happens every Friday and Saturday evening. We had a great time with music, good conversation, and meeting new people from the town of Edinburg in the Shenandoah Valley.
Sunday, Adam, Kika and I ran around trying to get my rental car, and trying to pack everything up for his trip to Ft. Lee, and my trip back to Michigan. Needless to say, it was really, really hard to say good-bye this time; it always is, but this time, with baby-in-tow, was even harder. At this point, we're not even sure what his holiday leave schedule is, so we don't yet have a definitive date for when we'll see each other again. Add to the fact that we found out that his training schedule has him leaving Virginia in early February for additional training in Georgia or Oklahoma, which would totally make my moving to Virginia in January pretty obsolete. So, for now, I'll be in Michigan, and we're hoping that the stars will align to make it possible for us to see each other over the next 6 months. At the very least, he's still slated to be back in Michigan a good 1 or 1 1/2 months before the birth, assuming the spud doesn't decide to come 6 weeks early!
Kiks and I set off for Michigan just past 2pm, which was good because we had a nice, long good-bye with Adam, but bad because it meant I had a 12 hour drive ahead of me. Not even 2 hours into the trip, there was a massive traffic backup due to construction that delayed us by a good 45 minutes. I tried to speed a bit to make up for the delay, but the cops were on the prowl that day, so I had to drive rather prudently. Kiksa and I shared the driving; with her encroaching glaucoma, she preferred daylight driving, so I let her take the weening daylight hours and then I drove through the night. We kept ourselves awake listening to "All 80s" radio stations and singing along, really loudly, to every tune we knew. That Kika really does have some pipes on her. Spoke to a few friends, but my cell phone was running out of battery juice, so I had to hang up and rely on the radio for the majority of the trip. Around 11pm, I pulled into a reststop just west of Oberlin, OH, and almost took a nap. However, after a rejuvenating cup of (decaf) coffee, mixed fruit and an oatmeal cookie, I was ready to hit the road again. The pull of sleeping in my own bed was just too tempting to resist. So we were off once more, and rolled into our driveway (3 torrential rainstorms later) at 2am. I was too tired to even clean out the car; I just greeted a very lonesome Greg House, let Kika potty, and then we all piled into bed, as I had to be up for work by 7am. Adam had to be awake by 2:30, so I called him just before I hit full-fledge sleep to let him know we'd made it home safely. He was sleepy and groggy, but it was good to hear his voice right before I drifted off.
So, that's that. Kika, Greg House, the spud and I are hanging in there now, but really missing our man. The man is doing well, adjusting to a new branch of the military and to being away from home yet again. Hopefully we'll hear some good news soon of his holiday schedule so we'll have that definitive date for when we'll see him again. Until then, life goes on as normal.
Last Thursday, Ads and I packed up the car for the what-we-thought-would-be-10-hour-but-actually-turned-out-to-be-12-hour drive from Michigan to Virginia. It was a long, but nice drive, as we had time to talk, make some decisions and just have alone time before his 6-month absence. We pulled into my sister's driveway at 7am Friday morning, briefly glanced at all the fabulous renovations she and her husband have done to the house, and then promptly fell asleep for the next few hours. The weekend was really great--my mum, sister and brother-in-law had all taken time off work to spend the weekend with us. We bummed around the house, catching up on everything and relaxing after our long drive; watched a lot of cable tv, which we don't have at home; and my mum and I caught up on some movies we've been dying to watch together ("Jane Austen Book Club" and "Sense and Sensibility"). Saturday we bummed around the house until we left in the afternoon to see my sister's and brother-in-law's coffee shop, "The Filling Station", which I wrote about in a previous entry. Their partners, Debbie and Eric, were there and ready for Open Mic Night, which happens every Friday and Saturday evening. We had a great time with music, good conversation, and meeting new people from the town of Edinburg in the Shenandoah Valley.
Sunday, Adam, Kika and I ran around trying to get my rental car, and trying to pack everything up for his trip to Ft. Lee, and my trip back to Michigan. Needless to say, it was really, really hard to say good-bye this time; it always is, but this time, with baby-in-tow, was even harder. At this point, we're not even sure what his holiday leave schedule is, so we don't yet have a definitive date for when we'll see each other again. Add to the fact that we found out that his training schedule has him leaving Virginia in early February for additional training in Georgia or Oklahoma, which would totally make my moving to Virginia in January pretty obsolete. So, for now, I'll be in Michigan, and we're hoping that the stars will align to make it possible for us to see each other over the next 6 months. At the very least, he's still slated to be back in Michigan a good 1 or 1 1/2 months before the birth, assuming the spud doesn't decide to come 6 weeks early!
Kiks and I set off for Michigan just past 2pm, which was good because we had a nice, long good-bye with Adam, but bad because it meant I had a 12 hour drive ahead of me. Not even 2 hours into the trip, there was a massive traffic backup due to construction that delayed us by a good 45 minutes. I tried to speed a bit to make up for the delay, but the cops were on the prowl that day, so I had to drive rather prudently. Kiksa and I shared the driving; with her encroaching glaucoma, she preferred daylight driving, so I let her take the weening daylight hours and then I drove through the night. We kept ourselves awake listening to "All 80s" radio stations and singing along, really loudly, to every tune we knew. That Kika really does have some pipes on her. Spoke to a few friends, but my cell phone was running out of battery juice, so I had to hang up and rely on the radio for the majority of the trip. Around 11pm, I pulled into a reststop just west of Oberlin, OH, and almost took a nap. However, after a rejuvenating cup of (decaf) coffee, mixed fruit and an oatmeal cookie, I was ready to hit the road again. The pull of sleeping in my own bed was just too tempting to resist. So we were off once more, and rolled into our driveway (3 torrential rainstorms later) at 2am. I was too tired to even clean out the car; I just greeted a very lonesome Greg House, let Kika potty, and then we all piled into bed, as I had to be up for work by 7am. Adam had to be awake by 2:30, so I called him just before I hit full-fledge sleep to let him know we'd made it home safely. He was sleepy and groggy, but it was good to hear his voice right before I drifted off.
So, that's that. Kika, Greg House, the spud and I are hanging in there now, but really missing our man. The man is doing well, adjusting to a new branch of the military and to being away from home yet again. Hopefully we'll hear some good news soon of his holiday schedule so we'll have that definitive date for when we'll see him again. Until then, life goes on as normal.
Monday, October 20, 2008
A Happy Little Accident
So, if you ever watched PBS on Saturday afternoons (or weekday afternoons, too, I guess) back in the 70s, 80s or 90s, you probably remember that soft-spoken painter with the crazy afro, Bob Ross. He was my absolute favorite. That dude could paint any mountain, river, ocean, tree, house, you name it, and it always came out looking real. My favorite part of the show was when he'd use the wrong color, or make an errant mark, and say in that soft, husky voice, "Oops, didn't mean to do that...heheh, but I like to say there are no mistakes, just happy little accidents!" He'd go on to take that unexpected color or stray mark and create a beautiful fir tree or chimney-smoked house. That dude was totally right, may he rest in peace. Happy little accidents are sometimes the best stray marks in life.
So I tell this story as a lead-in to the events of the last few weeks. Back in mid-September, I started experiencing excrutiating cramps, which then led to an intensely pressurized, pulling feeling as though my lady organs were about to fall out of my body. I started doing searches online to determine what the problem might be and all (web) sites pointed in the same direction--a prolapsed uterus or bladder. Needless to say I was scared sh*tless. I didn't want to make a big deal of things because Adam was going through the process of acquiring his "Chiefdom" in the Navy, and I didn't want my hypochondria to interfere with his concentration. But the pain and the pulling sensations would not go away. I talked to my neighbor, Mrs. Gonzales about it; she said, "Girl, that sounds like your uterus is about to fall out! You need to go to the doctor! Why are you still going to work? What are you going to do if you uterus falls out of your body while you're at your desk?" Okay, getting all that from a 77-year spitfire of a lady was enough to get my butt in gear. I immediately made an appointment to see a doctor at the local clinic and got in the next day. I dragged Adam along with me in case he needed to rush me to the ER as soon as my appointment was over.
So, I go to the appointment with Adam (yawning) in tow. In fact, I believe he fell asleep in the waiting room, as he's always pretty sure that there's nothing wrong with me. I wasn't convinced this time; I could practically feel my uterus hanging by a thread. I had to urinate really badly, so they took a sample so they could test for infection (the clinic was pretty sure it was not a prolapsed uterus, but rather a vaginal infection; I was pretty sure they didn't know what they were talking about). When the nurse led me to an examining room, she asked me a battery of questions (ie--Have you been constipated? Have you been thirsty? Have you been dizzy? Are you nauseous/vomiting?). Of course, the normal questions you might ask a woman who has a prolapsed uterus or vaginal infection. Afterward, she told me to get undressed and to wait for the doctor to come in to do a vaginal examination. Approximately 10 seconds after she left the room, she came right back in (luckily I was not yet busting out of my clothes) and said in a very nonchalant way, "Okay, Lauren, so you are pregnant." What? What?What?? So, I, uh, huh?? Pregnant?? I really couldn't believe it (still can't). And the way she emphasized are, as if she had just proved herself right and me wrong; I didn't even realize the debate was on the table! All those times Adam told me he was on birth control pills--what a liar!!!
So, I'm pregnant? The nurse went to get a sleepy Adam from the waiting room and pretty much announced the news to him in the same fashion; he literally took a step backwards he was so shocked. He looked at me as if to say, "My man pills didn't work?!?" I asked him if he was okay; he replied that he was okay, but was I okay? I told him that I was. But wow, what news. We certainly put a new spin on the term "family planning", in that there wasn't a whole lot of planning involved with expanding this family. But, after we absorbed the initial shock, we were able to really relish this unexpected, but exciting news that we were going to one day soon have a wee one.
But how to tell our families? You see, there wasn't any easy way of doing that, but not for the reason most of you are thinking. I've never been bothered by the idea of never getting married, and having kids "out of wedlock," so to speak. To me, the whole institution of marriage is bally-hoo, anyway; historically, it was the way for a man to acquire a woman's wealth upon partnership (always bringin' a sister down, yo!) and for the government to keep an eye on yet another one of folks' goings-on. The whole "matrimony under God" stuff is meaningless to me, and is just stuff people made up to make the historical beginnings of marriage easier to swallow. So although I know that both Adam's and my mother would much prefer that we be married before introducing a child into the world, it was never enough of a big-ticket item for me to spend a lot of time worrying about. As long as we loved each other, and were happy about the kid, what's the big deal?
Well, the big deal, GULP!, is that we are already married. Yup, this what's-the-big-deal-about-marriage-anyway?-liberal-hippie got hitched back on February 29th, Leap Day. It was not out of some strong desire to fill the vacant hole in my heart that was persisting from my seemingly eternal single status. No, I was okay with being single in the eyes of Big Brother; Adam and I have loved each other since we started dating and that has been romantic and meaningful enough for me for the last nine years. No, it was because upon Adam's and my return from our travels out west earlier this year, I secured a full-time job that unfortunately, did not come with benefits. Adam was still covered from his deployment with the Navy, so we decided, for practicalities' sake, to do the deed. So we did it the day after our nine-year anniversary, in our home, with Kika there, and Shabbi's ashes in the background. It was private and wonderful (and just the stress-free affair I could really appreciate) and we went out for a fancy meal afterward.
But we decided not to tell anyone. Why hurt the feelings of friends and family who would have wanted to see us get married? Why not just keep it a secret, have a more public ceremony down in Key West sometime next year and just let everyone think that to be our (only) wedding day? Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans...one local friend saw me wearing my wedding band out in public, another saw the wedding announcement in the newspaper, and it just started to snowball from there. So, many of our Lansing friends figured it out, but Adam and I decided to stay mum with our friends throughout the rest of the country (and world), and not a word was spilled to family, for fear of hurting feelings. But of course, all that would have to change with the news of Wee Willie Mittman's imminent arrival. We'd have to spill the beans.
Luckily, friends and family have taken the news (ALL the news) quite well and have been nothing but supportive. We are very lucky in that respect. It's still weird to talk about or refer to "my husband". Adam doesn't say the "w" word very often, either. But we've both been pretty keen on the idea of becoming "Mum" and "Daddy"; who'da thunk it would sit so well with either of us?
So, just a few quick facts before I end this e-mail so you can sit in a slight state of shock and ponder it all:
--I am currently about 9 weeks along (just got the first ultrasound done yesterday!) and all is well.
--My due date is somewhere between May 26-31. Originally they thought the 31st based on my last period (remember the pico de gallo story???) but the measurements they did on the little one yesterday suggest I'm actually about 5 days further along.
--I'm really sick and uncomfortable. Eating is a chore or an impossibility. I have not thrown up yet, but extreme nausea is my constant and unavoidable companion.
--I still have the pulling and pressure feelings, which evidently, are normal signs that my uterine ligaments are stretching, preparing for the bodily changes of pregnancy (hmmmm....okay)
--This 15-year long vegetarian is finally constipated. My normal "3 times a day!" routine has stopped up (literally) at a prolonged and rather eventful once a day visit to the throne.
--I can't maintain a stable body temperature. It's like I'm reptilian and I'm always ducking for a blanket, hood or extra sweater because I'm too cold. Just when I feel like I'm comfortable, I'll get a hot flash and I'm stripping off clothes like $1 bills are waiting at the end of the stage. It's not pretty.
So, everything is fine for now--baby is progressing healthily and I'm doing (relatively) well. Adam is a constant support, although his departure this week for 6 months of training has been difficult to swallow. We are toying seriously with the idea of my moving out to Virginia for the duration of the pregnancy after the New Year, but this still remains to be seen. My boss was totally cool when I told him everything yesterday, and he said I'd still have a job come July when I was back in town and ready to work, so I'm thrilled by that. Now I just have to sit down with Ads and figure everything out. Oh yea, and come up with a name. I'm fond of Wee Willie for now. And no, we're not going to find out the sex of Wee Willie. He or she will just have to deal with that name until s/he is born.
Bye now.
So I tell this story as a lead-in to the events of the last few weeks. Back in mid-September, I started experiencing excrutiating cramps, which then led to an intensely pressurized, pulling feeling as though my lady organs were about to fall out of my body. I started doing searches online to determine what the problem might be and all (web) sites pointed in the same direction--a prolapsed uterus or bladder. Needless to say I was scared sh*tless. I didn't want to make a big deal of things because Adam was going through the process of acquiring his "Chiefdom" in the Navy, and I didn't want my hypochondria to interfere with his concentration. But the pain and the pulling sensations would not go away. I talked to my neighbor, Mrs. Gonzales about it; she said, "Girl, that sounds like your uterus is about to fall out! You need to go to the doctor! Why are you still going to work? What are you going to do if you uterus falls out of your body while you're at your desk?" Okay, getting all that from a 77-year spitfire of a lady was enough to get my butt in gear. I immediately made an appointment to see a doctor at the local clinic and got in the next day. I dragged Adam along with me in case he needed to rush me to the ER as soon as my appointment was over.
So, I go to the appointment with Adam (yawning) in tow. In fact, I believe he fell asleep in the waiting room, as he's always pretty sure that there's nothing wrong with me. I wasn't convinced this time; I could practically feel my uterus hanging by a thread. I had to urinate really badly, so they took a sample so they could test for infection (the clinic was pretty sure it was not a prolapsed uterus, but rather a vaginal infection; I was pretty sure they didn't know what they were talking about). When the nurse led me to an examining room, she asked me a battery of questions (ie--Have you been constipated? Have you been thirsty? Have you been dizzy? Are you nauseous/vomiting?). Of course, the normal questions you might ask a woman who has a prolapsed uterus or vaginal infection. Afterward, she told me to get undressed and to wait for the doctor to come in to do a vaginal examination. Approximately 10 seconds after she left the room, she came right back in (luckily I was not yet busting out of my clothes) and said in a very nonchalant way, "Okay, Lauren, so you are pregnant." What? What?What?? So, I, uh, huh?? Pregnant?? I really couldn't believe it (still can't). And the way she emphasized are, as if she had just proved herself right and me wrong; I didn't even realize the debate was on the table! All those times Adam told me he was on birth control pills--what a liar!!!
So, I'm pregnant? The nurse went to get a sleepy Adam from the waiting room and pretty much announced the news to him in the same fashion; he literally took a step backwards he was so shocked. He looked at me as if to say, "My man pills didn't work?!?" I asked him if he was okay; he replied that he was okay, but was I okay? I told him that I was. But wow, what news. We certainly put a new spin on the term "family planning", in that there wasn't a whole lot of planning involved with expanding this family. But, after we absorbed the initial shock, we were able to really relish this unexpected, but exciting news that we were going to one day soon have a wee one.
But how to tell our families? You see, there wasn't any easy way of doing that, but not for the reason most of you are thinking. I've never been bothered by the idea of never getting married, and having kids "out of wedlock," so to speak. To me, the whole institution of marriage is bally-hoo, anyway; historically, it was the way for a man to acquire a woman's wealth upon partnership (always bringin' a sister down, yo!) and for the government to keep an eye on yet another one of folks' goings-on. The whole "matrimony under God" stuff is meaningless to me, and is just stuff people made up to make the historical beginnings of marriage easier to swallow. So although I know that both Adam's and my mother would much prefer that we be married before introducing a child into the world, it was never enough of a big-ticket item for me to spend a lot of time worrying about. As long as we loved each other, and were happy about the kid, what's the big deal?
Well, the big deal, GULP!, is that we are already married. Yup, this what's-the-big-deal-about-marriage-anyway?-liberal-hippie got hitched back on February 29th, Leap Day. It was not out of some strong desire to fill the vacant hole in my heart that was persisting from my seemingly eternal single status. No, I was okay with being single in the eyes of Big Brother; Adam and I have loved each other since we started dating and that has been romantic and meaningful enough for me for the last nine years. No, it was because upon Adam's and my return from our travels out west earlier this year, I secured a full-time job that unfortunately, did not come with benefits. Adam was still covered from his deployment with the Navy, so we decided, for practicalities' sake, to do the deed. So we did it the day after our nine-year anniversary, in our home, with Kika there, and Shabbi's ashes in the background. It was private and wonderful (and just the stress-free affair I could really appreciate) and we went out for a fancy meal afterward.
But we decided not to tell anyone. Why hurt the feelings of friends and family who would have wanted to see us get married? Why not just keep it a secret, have a more public ceremony down in Key West sometime next year and just let everyone think that to be our (only) wedding day? Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans...one local friend saw me wearing my wedding band out in public, another saw the wedding announcement in the newspaper, and it just started to snowball from there. So, many of our Lansing friends figured it out, but Adam and I decided to stay mum with our friends throughout the rest of the country (and world), and not a word was spilled to family, for fear of hurting feelings. But of course, all that would have to change with the news of Wee Willie Mittman's imminent arrival. We'd have to spill the beans.
Luckily, friends and family have taken the news (ALL the news) quite well and have been nothing but supportive. We are very lucky in that respect. It's still weird to talk about or refer to "my husband". Adam doesn't say the "w" word very often, either. But we've both been pretty keen on the idea of becoming "Mum" and "Daddy"; who'da thunk it would sit so well with either of us?
So, just a few quick facts before I end this e-mail so you can sit in a slight state of shock and ponder it all:
--I am currently about 9 weeks along (just got the first ultrasound done yesterday!) and all is well.
--My due date is somewhere between May 26-31. Originally they thought the 31st based on my last period (remember the pico de gallo story???) but the measurements they did on the little one yesterday suggest I'm actually about 5 days further along.
--I'm really sick and uncomfortable. Eating is a chore or an impossibility. I have not thrown up yet, but extreme nausea is my constant and unavoidable companion.
--I still have the pulling and pressure feelings, which evidently, are normal signs that my uterine ligaments are stretching, preparing for the bodily changes of pregnancy (hmmmm....okay)
--This 15-year long vegetarian is finally constipated. My normal "3 times a day!" routine has stopped up (literally) at a prolonged and rather eventful once a day visit to the throne.
--I can't maintain a stable body temperature. It's like I'm reptilian and I'm always ducking for a blanket, hood or extra sweater because I'm too cold. Just when I feel like I'm comfortable, I'll get a hot flash and I'm stripping off clothes like $1 bills are waiting at the end of the stage. It's not pretty.
So, everything is fine for now--baby is progressing healthily and I'm doing (relatively) well. Adam is a constant support, although his departure this week for 6 months of training has been difficult to swallow. We are toying seriously with the idea of my moving out to Virginia for the duration of the pregnancy after the New Year, but this still remains to be seen. My boss was totally cool when I told him everything yesterday, and he said I'd still have a job come July when I was back in town and ready to work, so I'm thrilled by that. Now I just have to sit down with Ads and figure everything out. Oh yea, and come up with a name. I'm fond of Wee Willie for now. And no, we're not going to find out the sex of Wee Willie. He or she will just have to deal with that name until s/he is born.
Bye now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)