OB appointment today: we're both happy and healthy...and I talked the doc into another ultrasound. She still thinks the bun is a she. So the acupuncturist knows nothing. Unless two ultrasounds turn out to be wrong, which is possible and does happen. Especially in the case of a girl: the absence of anatomy is a lot harder to be sure of than the presence of anatomy. But anyway, I feel reassured.
And Mom, you should be proud. I am learning the art of yard sale-ing from you. Today I hit one where they told me I could take whatever baby clothes I could fit in a plastic grocery bag for $1. Most of the clothes were pretty worn, but there were some gems and my bag was fairly full. Tomorrow, the husband and I have plans for three more garage sales. We'll see if my luck holds.
Right now the poor dear has decided he might prefer to stay up all night tonight painting the nursery (he is a night owl), get up for the garage sales, then sleep all day. I think he's crazy, but as long as my nursery gets painted this weekend, he can accomplish it however he prefers.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Christmas in September
The realtor agreed to pay for the paint to repaint the nursery, so that's $25 saved. And I'm spared the decision of a paint color. We just took a paint chip to the store last night and had them match the same white that the rest of the house is. I packed up everything in the room yesterday and the Husband moved out all the furniture and boxes last night. So today I'm going to try to tape up the room, get the outlet covers, etc. off. Whatever else I can think of that might be helpful. I was going to scrape off those wallpaper flowers, but then I read that pregnant women shouldn't do that in case there's lead in the paint, so I guess I'll leave that for the Husband, too. If all goes well, he's scheduled to paint Saturday.
I had a talk with the lead speech therapist I work with this morning. We decided that, even though I'm scheduled to work a few half-days per week for the rest of this month, I won't actually go in to work unless they call me the night before and tell me they need me. The back pain is just too unpredictable. I feel like my body's done with the work thing. Yesterday, I felt pretty good so I accompanied the Husband to the paint store, only to have significant pain set in after about five minutes of walking around. And I wasn't carrying anything, not even a purse. Some of that may be because I haven't exercised in a week and a half due to illness. I've been meaning to walk the dog, just a short walk, the last two nights, but have been so busy with other things that both nights I forgot until I was in bed. I'll try again tonight. It may be that I just need to build up the walking tolerance again. Or it could be that we're done with that, too, in which case I'll give the elliptical machine and swimming another go.
Because I found myself trying to ship a bunch of Christmas presents that wouldn't wrap or pack nicely this year, I solved the problem by whipping up a few gift bags from some fabric I had stashed. They were extremely easy and quick to make, though I did cut some corners: not pressing out my seams, e.g. (gasp!). *Note the tags made from old holiday cards posted about last year.
I also received some waterproof fabric I ordered for making a wet bag (for dirty diapers when out and about). 
And these Baby Legs I ordered showed up! Very cute.
I had a talk with the lead speech therapist I work with this morning. We decided that, even though I'm scheduled to work a few half-days per week for the rest of this month, I won't actually go in to work unless they call me the night before and tell me they need me. The back pain is just too unpredictable. I feel like my body's done with the work thing. Yesterday, I felt pretty good so I accompanied the Husband to the paint store, only to have significant pain set in after about five minutes of walking around. And I wasn't carrying anything, not even a purse. Some of that may be because I haven't exercised in a week and a half due to illness. I've been meaning to walk the dog, just a short walk, the last two nights, but have been so busy with other things that both nights I forgot until I was in bed. I'll try again tonight. It may be that I just need to build up the walking tolerance again. Or it could be that we're done with that, too, in which case I'll give the elliptical machine and swimming another go.
Because I found myself trying to ship a bunch of Christmas presents that wouldn't wrap or pack nicely this year, I solved the problem by whipping up a few gift bags from some fabric I had stashed. They were extremely easy and quick to make, though I did cut some corners: not pressing out my seams, e.g. (gasp!). *Note the tags made from old holiday cards posted about last year.
I also received some waterproof fabric I ordered for making a wet bag (for dirty diapers when out and about). 
And these Baby Legs I ordered showed up! Very cute.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Mish Mash
There's a little bit of everything going on in this post.
First, a little story. When we were getting ready to welcome Chewy as the newest bundle of fur into our lives, I read lots of puppy training books because I'd never raised a puppy before. I was especially interested in making sure we did crate training correctly because I had seen other people who used it with great success, their dogs retreating to their crates for some privacy and relaxation, their own little "den," whenever they wanted to. These dogs actually like their crates.
When we started crate training, it was frustrating for a while because, although Chewy never fought us when it was time to go in his crate (he's too sweet for that), we had to really lure him in there. Then we had the bright idea to give him treats (not just verbal and tactile praise) every time he went in his crate--and not the cheap-o training treats; we gave him the good stuff: freeze-dried meat, etc. It worked! And he's been consistently going into his crate with the command, "Go to bed!" ever since (except for the occasional confusion of which bed to go to, when he guesses wrong and heads to his bed in our bedroom or the cushion in the living room--and we never call those "bed" by the way; that's his own generalization).
But we've reached a new milestone. This morning I saw him crawl into his crate all on his own while I was innocently fixing myself a glass of water. He's napping in there. Incredible. We did it.
Now for a random rant. Have you seen the new commercials for those "cereal straw" things? I just saw one this morning. Look here to see what I'm talking about. I don't have an inherent problem with the existence of these things, though I hope they'll never make it into my kitchen. But I do have a problem with them being marketed as "cereal." This is a cookie! No? How is this different from those fancy cookies they sell for stirring in your coffee? I think those are maybe solid chocolate in the middle, so not technically a "straw," but these are chocolate-lined. Chocolate has no place in cereal. If there's chocolate, you're having dessert. Or, at best, a snack. Let's face it, the second ingredient in these "cereal straws" is still sugar. I'm just so tired of marketing these days.
Am on the mend from the virus that plagued us last week; although, my sinuses are still driving me crazy with that stuffed-up-but-I-can-still-breathe feeling, accompanied by random periods of suddenly not being able to breathe as my whole head is trying to wring itself out like a sponge. The Husband still isn't 100% either, but we're getting there.
He was a saint this weekend, hanging shelves (which is his most-loathed around-the-house chore), agreeing to paint the nursery next weekend (yay!), planning to build a small bookcase for the wee one. It's a good thing he didn't want to relax or anything, after finishing grad school. What? I gave him two weeks.
Speaking of painting, here's a question I need answering: if you're planning to paint the walls some shade of white, but obviously not white white, and the decor in the room (i.e., the baby bedding) will be a celery green, do you go for one of those whites with a similar green undertone (i.e., match it), or do you go for a shade of white that contrasts (e.g., with blue, pink, or yellow undertones)? It may not even matter. When we moved into this house, the realtor said she would pay for the paint if we wanted to repaint that room. In which case, we'd match the color to the rest of the house. We'll call her today and she if she'll hold to that; we never got it in writing, unfortunately. But I won't be surprised if they don't agree to that and we have to buy our own paint, in which case I'll get whatever color I darn well choose. Except that I know nothing about paint color design and how to get the effect I want.
All I know is that the last renters obviously had a little girl in this room, too, because it's yellow with pink wallpaper flowers stuck to it. Not bad, except that the flowers are peeling off and the paint is chipped and I'm not at all sure about this particular shade of yellow...so it's going.
On the sewing front, I have all the cloth wipes stitched up and most of them washed. Just need to tie up and clip some loose threads
on the last batch and figure out a storage system. Then my plan is to finish up the bibs and get started on the hooded towels. I took advantage of some Labor Day sales yesterday and got some 
terrycloth for those. Still need to whip up some burp cloths, too. Sounds like a lot (to me at least) when I start listing things, but really those are all quick, easy projects, so I don't think it's as much work as it sounds like. I hope. I'll keep telling myself that anyway.
I didn't work all last week because I was sick. I worked Sunday for a couple hours. Today they don't need me, so I'm home again. I'm thinking this is all just as well as my body has been making it perfectly clear to me that I should have made August my last month at work rather than September. You just never know. As the Husband and I were just discussing, so many women make it all the way up to the end. And not just in desk jobs. Also standing at the grocery check out all day. If I had tried a stunt like that I'm sure I would've ended up on bed rest. So we've been feeling very lucky to be in a financial and professional position where I can stop working this soon.
And I'm finding ways to be productive even while sitting on the couch, heating and icing the back. I spent hours last night trying to be a good Maid of Honor for Scarlet Lily, researching videographers for her in her area. I'd forgotten what a pain in the ass planning a wedding can be. For us, at least, it was definitely all worth it in the end, but, man, that legwork can be excruciating. But she has a nice long list of several plausible options now, and I hope one will work out. Know anyone in the Rochester area with a video camera and some film skills who wants to make a few bucks?
By the way, I hit the jackpot at a yard sale last weekend: tons of baby girl clothes. So I stocked up on the older (mostly six and nine months) sizes that we don't have much of, and scored a ziploc full of baby hats.
I love the baby hats. Can't get enough. I told the Husband he's going to have to reign me in because she'll never get to wear them all before she grows out of them. I won't even remember all the ones we have now when I'm trying to dress her! Plus, she could be like my nephew, J, who hated hats for the first, I think, year of his life (maybe more?); although, he'll wear them now (that he's over 18 months). But the best baby hats are the ones with ears. Oh, how they kill me. Seriously, how can you resist this? You'd have to be made of stone.
First, a little story. When we were getting ready to welcome Chewy as the newest bundle of fur into our lives, I read lots of puppy training books because I'd never raised a puppy before. I was especially interested in making sure we did crate training correctly because I had seen other people who used it with great success, their dogs retreating to their crates for some privacy and relaxation, their own little "den," whenever they wanted to. These dogs actually like their crates.
When we started crate training, it was frustrating for a while because, although Chewy never fought us when it was time to go in his crate (he's too sweet for that), we had to really lure him in there. Then we had the bright idea to give him treats (not just verbal and tactile praise) every time he went in his crate--and not the cheap-o training treats; we gave him the good stuff: freeze-dried meat, etc. It worked! And he's been consistently going into his crate with the command, "Go to bed!" ever since (except for the occasional confusion of which bed to go to, when he guesses wrong and heads to his bed in our bedroom or the cushion in the living room--and we never call those "bed" by the way; that's his own generalization).
But we've reached a new milestone. This morning I saw him crawl into his crate all on his own while I was innocently fixing myself a glass of water. He's napping in there. Incredible. We did it.Now for a random rant. Have you seen the new commercials for those "cereal straw" things? I just saw one this morning. Look here to see what I'm talking about. I don't have an inherent problem with the existence of these things, though I hope they'll never make it into my kitchen. But I do have a problem with them being marketed as "cereal." This is a cookie! No? How is this different from those fancy cookies they sell for stirring in your coffee? I think those are maybe solid chocolate in the middle, so not technically a "straw," but these are chocolate-lined. Chocolate has no place in cereal. If there's chocolate, you're having dessert. Or, at best, a snack. Let's face it, the second ingredient in these "cereal straws" is still sugar. I'm just so tired of marketing these days.
Am on the mend from the virus that plagued us last week; although, my sinuses are still driving me crazy with that stuffed-up-but-I-can-still-breathe feeling, accompanied by random periods of suddenly not being able to breathe as my whole head is trying to wring itself out like a sponge. The Husband still isn't 100% either, but we're getting there.
He was a saint this weekend, hanging shelves (which is his most-loathed around-the-house chore), agreeing to paint the nursery next weekend (yay!), planning to build a small bookcase for the wee one. It's a good thing he didn't want to relax or anything, after finishing grad school. What? I gave him two weeks.Speaking of painting, here's a question I need answering: if you're planning to paint the walls some shade of white, but obviously not white white, and the decor in the room (i.e., the baby bedding) will be a celery green, do you go for one of those whites with a similar green undertone (i.e., match it), or do you go for a shade of white that contrasts (e.g., with blue, pink, or yellow undertones)? It may not even matter. When we moved into this house, the realtor said she would pay for the paint if we wanted to repaint that room. In which case, we'd match the color to the rest of the house. We'll call her today and she if she'll hold to that; we never got it in writing, unfortunately. But I won't be surprised if they don't agree to that and we have to buy our own paint, in which case I'll get whatever color I darn well choose. Except that I know nothing about paint color design and how to get the effect I want.
All I know is that the last renters obviously had a little girl in this room, too, because it's yellow with pink wallpaper flowers stuck to it. Not bad, except that the flowers are peeling off and the paint is chipped and I'm not at all sure about this particular shade of yellow...so it's going.On the sewing front, I have all the cloth wipes stitched up and most of them washed. Just need to tie up and clip some loose threads
on the last batch and figure out a storage system. Then my plan is to finish up the bibs and get started on the hooded towels. I took advantage of some Labor Day sales yesterday and got some 
terrycloth for those. Still need to whip up some burp cloths, too. Sounds like a lot (to me at least) when I start listing things, but really those are all quick, easy projects, so I don't think it's as much work as it sounds like. I hope. I'll keep telling myself that anyway.I didn't work all last week because I was sick. I worked Sunday for a couple hours. Today they don't need me, so I'm home again. I'm thinking this is all just as well as my body has been making it perfectly clear to me that I should have made August my last month at work rather than September. You just never know. As the Husband and I were just discussing, so many women make it all the way up to the end. And not just in desk jobs. Also standing at the grocery check out all day. If I had tried a stunt like that I'm sure I would've ended up on bed rest. So we've been feeling very lucky to be in a financial and professional position where I can stop working this soon.
And I'm finding ways to be productive even while sitting on the couch, heating and icing the back. I spent hours last night trying to be a good Maid of Honor for Scarlet Lily, researching videographers for her in her area. I'd forgotten what a pain in the ass planning a wedding can be. For us, at least, it was definitely all worth it in the end, but, man, that legwork can be excruciating. But she has a nice long list of several plausible options now, and I hope one will work out. Know anyone in the Rochester area with a video camera and some film skills who wants to make a few bucks?
By the way, I hit the jackpot at a yard sale last weekend: tons of baby girl clothes. So I stocked up on the older (mostly six and nine months) sizes that we don't have much of, and scored a ziploc full of baby hats.
I love the baby hats. Can't get enough. I told the Husband he's going to have to reign me in because she'll never get to wear them all before she grows out of them. I won't even remember all the ones we have now when I'm trying to dress her! Plus, she could be like my nephew, J, who hated hats for the first, I think, year of his life (maybe more?); although, he'll wear them now (that he's over 18 months). But the best baby hats are the ones with ears. Oh, how they kill me. Seriously, how can you resist this? You'd have to be made of stone.
The last bit of news from last weekend: Bob got a new collar.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
New Look
Wait, don't leave! It's still me. Maybe harder to recognize, as I've been fooling around with my template. It's been over a year. It seemed like time to shake things up a bit. I made the title banner myself. It's nothing impressive, but the first time I've tried to make one from scratch so I'm pretty satisfied.
I caught the Husband's plague and have been home from work all week so far. Not sure tomorrow's looking much more promising. Between that and all the pregnancy aches and pains life continues to consist of many seated activities, like blog design. Also, giving Chewy a haircut. His mohawk was all matted.
The last time he got shaved at Petco they fluffed up his mohawk so much that we think it caused the fur to get matted. Like 'froing out really coarse hair on a person, then rubbing their head in the carpet (as Chewy likes to do for back massages--in fact, as he's doing right now!). Disaster. So I gave him a haircut with scissors. The mohawk is gone. I think I did a pretty good job blending it in, if I do say so myself. The mats on the back of his head were so bad he has total bald spots, but the fur on top of his head is so long that it flops over and mostly covers it. I've often said that the fur on top looks like a bad toupee. Now it's serving as a pretty good toupee!
I cut out about 17,000 cloth wipes for diapering. Really, about 80. Excessive, I have no doubt. I was only making 60 measuring 8" x 8", which already seemed more than plenty, but then the Husband thought they might be too big...and I had all these scraps...and it was so easy to just fold my template in half and cut out some 8" x 4" pieces. Most of them are cut from old t-shirts in a scrap pile. Some old, dingy, used-to-be-white washcloths also got thrown in the mix. The selection was rounded out by some favorite pajama pants of mine that got bleach-stained long ago and since took up residence in my sewing room, just waiting for such a scrap project.
So I have a combination of jersey knit, terry cloth, and flannel wipes, which encompasses most of the options I found for sale on-line. Hopefully they'll work out. The only "problem" I've run into is that the edges are rippling on me when I topstitch them. No matter which stitch I used, and believe me, I think I've tried at least a dozen. This happened both with the knit, which I double-layered, and the terry cloth, which is a single layer. I haven't done the flannel yet. But I decided that the rippling really probably won't matter. These are for the purpose of wiping a baby's butt, after all. Perfection is so not necessary.
Speaking of less-than-perfection, here's the latest Cooking Light recipe I've tried. I do recommend trying it, but I also recommend keeping in mind that my black bean "patties" turned out more like black bean blobs. Maybe you'll have better luck. It was actually really good; even the Husband liked it and said he'd eat it again! And it was a vegetarian dish; most recent sign that the apocalypse is upon us. No wait, here's the latest sign: he's happily eaten two dishes with spinach in them that I've cooked recently. And he was aware of the spinach. And he complained that the new lady who makes the wraps at the hospital cafeteria where he sometimes gets lunch doesn't put in enough spinach. It doesn't taste as good without the extra spinach. You know, know that I'm actually typing this, I'm thinking the question I should be asking is: WHO IS THIS STRANGE MAN AND WHAT HAS HE DONE WITH MY HUSBAND?
I caught the Husband's plague and have been home from work all week so far. Not sure tomorrow's looking much more promising. Between that and all the pregnancy aches and pains life continues to consist of many seated activities, like blog design. Also, giving Chewy a haircut. His mohawk was all matted.
The last time he got shaved at Petco they fluffed up his mohawk so much that we think it caused the fur to get matted. Like 'froing out really coarse hair on a person, then rubbing their head in the carpet (as Chewy likes to do for back massages--in fact, as he's doing right now!). Disaster. So I gave him a haircut with scissors. The mohawk is gone. I think I did a pretty good job blending it in, if I do say so myself. The mats on the back of his head were so bad he has total bald spots, but the fur on top of his head is so long that it flops over and mostly covers it. I've often said that the fur on top looks like a bad toupee. Now it's serving as a pretty good toupee!I cut out about 17,000 cloth wipes for diapering. Really, about 80. Excessive, I have no doubt. I was only making 60 measuring 8" x 8", which already seemed more than plenty, but then the Husband thought they might be too big...and I had all these scraps...and it was so easy to just fold my template in half and cut out some 8" x 4" pieces. Most of them are cut from old t-shirts in a scrap pile. Some old, dingy, used-to-be-white washcloths also got thrown in the mix. The selection was rounded out by some favorite pajama pants of mine that got bleach-stained long ago and since took up residence in my sewing room, just waiting for such a scrap project.
So I have a combination of jersey knit, terry cloth, and flannel wipes, which encompasses most of the options I found for sale on-line. Hopefully they'll work out. The only "problem" I've run into is that the edges are rippling on me when I topstitch them. No matter which stitch I used, and believe me, I think I've tried at least a dozen. This happened both with the knit, which I double-layered, and the terry cloth, which is a single layer. I haven't done the flannel yet. But I decided that the rippling really probably won't matter. These are for the purpose of wiping a baby's butt, after all. Perfection is so not necessary.Speaking of less-than-perfection, here's the latest Cooking Light recipe I've tried. I do recommend trying it, but I also recommend keeping in mind that my black bean "patties" turned out more like black bean blobs. Maybe you'll have better luck. It was actually really good; even the Husband liked it and said he'd eat it again! And it was a vegetarian dish; most recent sign that the apocalypse is upon us. No wait, here's the latest sign: he's happily eaten two dishes with spinach in them that I've cooked recently. And he was aware of the spinach. And he complained that the new lady who makes the wraps at the hospital cafeteria where he sometimes gets lunch doesn't put in enough spinach. It doesn't taste as good without the extra spinach. You know, know that I'm actually typing this, I'm thinking the question I should be asking is: WHO IS THIS STRANGE MAN AND WHAT HAS HE DONE WITH MY HUSBAND?
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Pincushion
On Thursday, after my OB appointment, I'm innocently sitting in Starbucks eating my bran muffin and milk when the guy next to me decides to strike up conversation. "Do you like the zucchini walnut muffin?" he wants to know. I've never had it. "Did you read this latest article about the mortgage crisis?" he wants to know. No, sorry. "Do you listen to things other than music in your CD player?" Sorry, what? "Did you know that mangosteen is really good for you?" Did I just walk into a conversation with Jonathan Lipnicki?
(Ray: D'you know that the human head weighs 8 pounds?
Jerry Maguire: Did you know that Troy Aikman, in only six years, has passed for 16,303 yards?
Ray: D'you know that bees and dogs can smell fear?
Jerry Maguire: Did you know that the career record for hits is 4,256 by Pete Rose who is NOT in the Hall of Fame?
Ray: D'you know that my next door neighbor has three rabbits?
Jerry Maguire: I... I can't compete with that!)
He gave me a CD. To listen to on my CD player. About Mangosteen. Which is apparently one of those superfruits like blueberries and pomegranate. I have not listened to it.
Also on Thursday, walking innocently out of a store after an errand, I pulled a groin muscle. If it's not one thing it's another, I swear. I hobbled to the car, thinking it was just cramping up, like it often does. But no. I got home and couldn't walk the rest of the night. Pregnancy can be ridiculous. I stayed off it Friday and have taken it easy all weekend. It seems to be fine now. I'll head back to the gym tomorrow for a test drive. A nice side-effect has been that my back hasn't done better in months. Sitting on my arse seems to agree with it.
Part of "taking it easy" this weekend has also included the Husband and I finally celebrating our fourth anniversary, which actually occurred a month ago. We went out to dinner Friday night: Chinese. Inexpensive, but a favorite. We went to brunch Saturday morning and spent the day together. We were supposed to go to a fancy dinner Saturday night to top it all off, but at the last minute I didn't feel up to it and we ordered in pizza instead. The Husband was just as happy to see that change of plans because he's been sick as a dog all weekend. So we bought this beautiful little mini-cake for the "fancy" part of our celebration instead. It's as good as it looks, by which I mean delicious.
The other big event involved a first experience with acupuncture for both of us. I tend to be a big fan of your classic massage. Relaxing, calming, peaceful, all-around feel-good experience. But the Husband has an innate tendency to be "different" and doesn't really like massage, but says he's always wanted to try acupuncture. Because my OB had recommended acupuncture when the pre-natal massage I had didn't seem to do any good, it seemed like a good idea for both of us for part of our anniversary weekend.
The Husband went first, and remember that he was sick. My appointment was directly after his, so I didn't get a chance to talk to him, but the acupuncturist said he slept through the whole thing. So we talked about what problems I was having and I got on the table. He felt my wrists and asked, as though he already knew the answer, "You're having a boy, right?" Uh, no. I hope. Or I have a lot of pink stuff that's sure to come up in therapy when he's 30. "They tell me it's a girl..." "Really? Because I'm getting a really strong 'boy.'" Huh. I would ignore this except that the husband and I have been making comments to each other with increasing frequency as the due date approaches along the lines of, "That ultrasound turned out to be really early. I sure hope she was right about the sex." "Ha, ha, yeah, that would suck if it turned out to be a boy and we have all this pink stuff." "Yeah. And we haven't even tried to think of a boy name. But she said she was 95% sure." "Yeah. You still think it's a girl, right?" "Yeah...it's gotta be." Several variations of that conversation have been popular around here lately. So his certainty that it was a boy kind of sent up some mild alarms in my head. I'll be asking my OB at the next appointment if she'd be willing to send me for another ultrasound. It would be cool to see, wouldn't cost me anything, and would give me peace of mind. So we'll see.
Anyway, back to the acupuncture. So, he stuck a bunch of needles in my hands and wrists and knees and feet and ankles. It took about 2-5 minutes, I swear, that's all. I felt this massive amount of heat travel from my head down my body and with it came the most intense nausea I've had since I had the flu in June. I tried to ignore it at first, hoping it was my imagination or at least temporary. "Crap, I'm going to puke in his office," I thought. "That'll be embarrassing." So I told him, "I'm feeling a little nauseated and clammy." Because at this point I was drenched in a cold sweat. With the nausea. I felt awful. He explained that this was probably because he had inserted the needles at places that encouraged "things" to move around the torso area. So he removed two of the needles that were doing that. Within a couple more minutes the nausea and clamminess improved (although I was still drenched in my own sweat) and things were okay for maybe 10 minutes. Then came wave two. "Uh, I'm starting to feel nauseated again..." He looked shocked. He put two more needles in my ankles and said I should feel some immediate relief. I didn't. But after a few minutes I did. That wave had been worse than the first and his reaction made it clear he had no idea why my body was reacting this way. I was so close to asking him to stop the whole thing. It was bizarre. I made it through maybe 10 more minutes and could feel a third wave rearing its head when he decided it was time to take the needles out anyway. Thank God. My hour-long session was only 45 minutes.
He told me afterwards that my face had totally drained of all color with each wave of nausea, which has been a screamingly obvious sign of nausea on me since I was a child. Afterwards, the Husband kept remarking on how awful I looked for a good hour, even after I felt fine again. The acupuncturist felt sure that the reaction was due to some kind of "blood deficiency" which he decided was probably a lack of animal proteins. This is very plausible as I really don't like to eat meat (not a vegetarian, just don't like it) and am always struggling to make sure I eat enough protein. He also told me to eat more easily digestible leafy greens, like cooked spinach and kale.
It was interesting. It was awful, but interesting. The speed at which the nausea came on (and the intense sweating) and dissipated was remarkable. I don't know if I gained any positive effects from it, but it sure as hell did something. The Husband, on the other hand, looked significantly better after his session, but whether that was due to the acupuncture, the nap, or the Sudafed kicking in, we can't be sure. The Husband thinks I should give it another chance when not pregnant, but dude, that hell will take some convincing to purposely relive.
Today was spent conducting massive amounts of research into cloth diapering. I think I finally understand the details now and have definitely decided to give it a whirl. Once I got the logistics down, it actually sounds no more difficult than disposables. And sooooo much cheaper. So, I've ordered some supplies and will be sure to let you know of the success when the time comes. If it doesn't work out, I'll either try a diaper service or some eco-friendly disposables. Or try one of those for the first few months and revisit the cloth diapering when things are more under control and some of the initial baby-shock has worn off. We'll see...
So no sewing progress since the last post. I'll try again this week. Lots of ideas in the brain, as always, but the execution is lacking.
(Ray: D'you know that the human head weighs 8 pounds?
Jerry Maguire: Did you know that Troy Aikman, in only six years, has passed for 16,303 yards?
Ray: D'you know that bees and dogs can smell fear?
Jerry Maguire: Did you know that the career record for hits is 4,256 by Pete Rose who is NOT in the Hall of Fame?
Ray: D'you know that my next door neighbor has three rabbits?
Jerry Maguire: I... I can't compete with that!)
He gave me a CD. To listen to on my CD player. About Mangosteen. Which is apparently one of those superfruits like blueberries and pomegranate. I have not listened to it.
Also on Thursday, walking innocently out of a store after an errand, I pulled a groin muscle. If it's not one thing it's another, I swear. I hobbled to the car, thinking it was just cramping up, like it often does. But no. I got home and couldn't walk the rest of the night. Pregnancy can be ridiculous. I stayed off it Friday and have taken it easy all weekend. It seems to be fine now. I'll head back to the gym tomorrow for a test drive. A nice side-effect has been that my back hasn't done better in months. Sitting on my arse seems to agree with it.
Part of "taking it easy" this weekend has also included the Husband and I finally celebrating our fourth anniversary, which actually occurred a month ago. We went out to dinner Friday night: Chinese. Inexpensive, but a favorite. We went to brunch Saturday morning and spent the day together. We were supposed to go to a fancy dinner Saturday night to top it all off, but at the last minute I didn't feel up to it and we ordered in pizza instead. The Husband was just as happy to see that change of plans because he's been sick as a dog all weekend. So we bought this beautiful little mini-cake for the "fancy" part of our celebration instead. It's as good as it looks, by which I mean delicious.
The other big event involved a first experience with acupuncture for both of us. I tend to be a big fan of your classic massage. Relaxing, calming, peaceful, all-around feel-good experience. But the Husband has an innate tendency to be "different" and doesn't really like massage, but says he's always wanted to try acupuncture. Because my OB had recommended acupuncture when the pre-natal massage I had didn't seem to do any good, it seemed like a good idea for both of us for part of our anniversary weekend.
The Husband went first, and remember that he was sick. My appointment was directly after his, so I didn't get a chance to talk to him, but the acupuncturist said he slept through the whole thing. So we talked about what problems I was having and I got on the table. He felt my wrists and asked, as though he already knew the answer, "You're having a boy, right?" Uh, no. I hope. Or I have a lot of pink stuff that's sure to come up in therapy when he's 30. "They tell me it's a girl..." "Really? Because I'm getting a really strong 'boy.'" Huh. I would ignore this except that the husband and I have been making comments to each other with increasing frequency as the due date approaches along the lines of, "That ultrasound turned out to be really early. I sure hope she was right about the sex." "Ha, ha, yeah, that would suck if it turned out to be a boy and we have all this pink stuff." "Yeah. And we haven't even tried to think of a boy name. But she said she was 95% sure." "Yeah. You still think it's a girl, right?" "Yeah...it's gotta be." Several variations of that conversation have been popular around here lately. So his certainty that it was a boy kind of sent up some mild alarms in my head. I'll be asking my OB at the next appointment if she'd be willing to send me for another ultrasound. It would be cool to see, wouldn't cost me anything, and would give me peace of mind. So we'll see.
Anyway, back to the acupuncture. So, he stuck a bunch of needles in my hands and wrists and knees and feet and ankles. It took about 2-5 minutes, I swear, that's all. I felt this massive amount of heat travel from my head down my body and with it came the most intense nausea I've had since I had the flu in June. I tried to ignore it at first, hoping it was my imagination or at least temporary. "Crap, I'm going to puke in his office," I thought. "That'll be embarrassing." So I told him, "I'm feeling a little nauseated and clammy." Because at this point I was drenched in a cold sweat. With the nausea. I felt awful. He explained that this was probably because he had inserted the needles at places that encouraged "things" to move around the torso area. So he removed two of the needles that were doing that. Within a couple more minutes the nausea and clamminess improved (although I was still drenched in my own sweat) and things were okay for maybe 10 minutes. Then came wave two. "Uh, I'm starting to feel nauseated again..." He looked shocked. He put two more needles in my ankles and said I should feel some immediate relief. I didn't. But after a few minutes I did. That wave had been worse than the first and his reaction made it clear he had no idea why my body was reacting this way. I was so close to asking him to stop the whole thing. It was bizarre. I made it through maybe 10 more minutes and could feel a third wave rearing its head when he decided it was time to take the needles out anyway. Thank God. My hour-long session was only 45 minutes.
He told me afterwards that my face had totally drained of all color with each wave of nausea, which has been a screamingly obvious sign of nausea on me since I was a child. Afterwards, the Husband kept remarking on how awful I looked for a good hour, even after I felt fine again. The acupuncturist felt sure that the reaction was due to some kind of "blood deficiency" which he decided was probably a lack of animal proteins. This is very plausible as I really don't like to eat meat (not a vegetarian, just don't like it) and am always struggling to make sure I eat enough protein. He also told me to eat more easily digestible leafy greens, like cooked spinach and kale.
It was interesting. It was awful, but interesting. The speed at which the nausea came on (and the intense sweating) and dissipated was remarkable. I don't know if I gained any positive effects from it, but it sure as hell did something. The Husband, on the other hand, looked significantly better after his session, but whether that was due to the acupuncture, the nap, or the Sudafed kicking in, we can't be sure. The Husband thinks I should give it another chance when not pregnant, but dude, that hell will take some convincing to purposely relive.
Today was spent conducting massive amounts of research into cloth diapering. I think I finally understand the details now and have definitely decided to give it a whirl. Once I got the logistics down, it actually sounds no more difficult than disposables. And sooooo much cheaper. So, I've ordered some supplies and will be sure to let you know of the success when the time comes. If it doesn't work out, I'll either try a diaper service or some eco-friendly disposables. Or try one of those for the first few months and revisit the cloth diapering when things are more under control and some of the initial baby-shock has worn off. We'll see...
So no sewing progress since the last post. I'll try again this week. Lots of ideas in the brain, as always, but the execution is lacking.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Tea Party
I'm back from my trip to Ithaca...and the flight was smooth as buttah! Everyone's prayers to the airline gods apparently paid off, so thank you.
That party was followed by a second bash later that night: the engagement party for Scarlet and her fiance, which was also fabulous.
Didn't realize until I took these how badly in need of a haircut he is!
Scarlet Lily and our mothers threw me a beautiful, fun baby shower on Saturday. It was a yummy tea party, with a little ceramic tea set to decorate for the little bean.
That party was followed by a second bash later that night: the engagement party for Scarlet and her fiance, which was also fabulous.So I've pretty much spent the day catching up on laundry and writing thank you notes for all the unbelievable gifts we received. You people are too, too generous.
Because I've been receiving special requests for more Chewy pics I took these.
Didn't realize until I took these how badly in need of a haircut he is!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Purse Handles
I had hoped to post about a couple WIPs I have in the pipeline before leaving for NY today, but it didn't work out that way. I'll try to finish them up next week and tell you all about them.
The Husband had his MBA graduation on Saturday; just a short ceremony and a dinner. He downplayed it so much that I forgot the camera, which I was sorry about. But some friends took pictures, so maybe we'll get to see some of those soon. I got him this briefcase as a graduation gift. He has a laptop carrier/backpack that he loves and is a good backpack, but it seemed like he also needed something more professional looking for when he's meeting clients for the first time or going on interviews, etc. He said he liked it, but..."it has purse handles." What?!?! Do any of you think they look like purse handles? It probably won't matter because I have a feeling it will be less trouble for him to just get over it rather than look for one he likes without "purse handles." I don't know, it looks pretty darn unisex to me. He's notoriously particular, so I'm not surprised.
Okay, I have a plane to catch. Heading to Ithaca for Scarlet Lily's engagement party and the baby shower she's hosting for me! Also wedding dress shopping...very excited. Everyone in blogland: keep your fingers crossed and send positive energy for smooth flights that are reasonably on time with minimal back/abdominal/groin pain. The last thing the baby and I need are a repeat of the fiasco from my last trip to NY.
The Husband had his MBA graduation on Saturday; just a short ceremony and a dinner. He downplayed it so much that I forgot the camera, which I was sorry about. But some friends took pictures, so maybe we'll get to see some of those soon. I got him this briefcase as a graduation gift. He has a laptop carrier/backpack that he loves and is a good backpack, but it seemed like he also needed something more professional looking for when he's meeting clients for the first time or going on interviews, etc. He said he liked it, but..."it has purse handles." What?!?! Do any of you think they look like purse handles? It probably won't matter because I have a feeling it will be less trouble for him to just get over it rather than look for one he likes without "purse handles." I don't know, it looks pretty darn unisex to me. He's notoriously particular, so I'm not surprised.
Okay, I have a plane to catch. Heading to Ithaca for Scarlet Lily's engagement party and the baby shower she's hosting for me! Also wedding dress shopping...very excited. Everyone in blogland: keep your fingers crossed and send positive energy for smooth flights that are reasonably on time with minimal back/abdominal/groin pain. The last thing the baby and I need are a repeat of the fiasco from my last trip to NY.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Perspective
The last 24 hours or so have brought a new level of intensity and duration of back pain, along with it's new friends, upper abdominal pain and groin pain. And the three decided to party all night with the result that I think I got about two hours of sleep, collectively. So I was very grumpy this morning getting ready for work, even though I knew I'd only be there a few hours, as I've been doing half-days for a month or so due to this back pain.
A little background about my work: all the therapy services in the hospital (speech, physical, occupational) are required to bill patients/insurance companies on a per unit basis, rather than per hour. That means, if I evaluate someone's swallowing, I bill them a certain number of unity. If I do swallowing therapy, that's a different number. If I do a modified barium swallow (swallowing x-ray) that's another number of units. Etc.
The hospital keeps tabs on us by tracking our "productive hours." We're supposed to bill a certain number of units per hour that we're clocked in as working, and thus getting paid. Usually it's no problem to hit that goal. Most of us are overly productive on most days. But some days just don't go the way you plan and some patients are more time-consuming and complicated than others. This, incidentally, is the same reason you run into problems with your PCP spending maybe 15 minutes with you, if you're lucky. Because they have to jam-pack in so many patients in order to make a profit, so the healthier ones get a drive-by because more time will be spent on the sicker, more complicated patients. They have to bill by units, rather than hours. Unlike lawyers and accountants, for instance, who, much more sensibly, are billed for their time. But enough criticism of health care. That is so beyond the scope of this blog.
Anyway, today was the first time I've ever worked for several hours and not been able to see one single patient! That's okay, it happens. But one patient whom I tried to see today stuck with me. It was the last one I was attempting before I gave up and went home. I was doing the chart review on her and got as far as reading that she had had an emergent c-section with lots of complications, including death of the fetus. She's 37. I stopped there. I cannot think of anything more inappropriate than me, 7 months pregnant, walking into this poor woman's room to address her swallowing. She apparently has some cognitive issues, too--I don't know if she had some sort of anoxic brain injury or what, but she's been combative. I'm sure there's at least some amount of psychological trauma involved. Either way, it was weird. I felt stunned. You know that horrible things happen; of course, I'm more acutely aware of fetal deaths because I'm pregnant. I think it was the close call of me almost going to treat this patient and how potentially painful just the sight of me would have undoubtedly been to this patient, and how traumatic that would have been for both of us.
My point in this long, rambling story is that it made me appreciate how healthy and lucky I am to have had such a relatively easy, problem-free pregnancy (and life) so far. The pain is a nuisance, for sure. But it's a small amount of suffering to bear compared to some.
On a much lighter note and completely different topic, I tried another cornbread recipe (we're still working our way through that damn chili!). The Husband implored me to try a "normal" cornbread recipe this time, and we both found this one to be pretty good. If anyone feels inspired to try it out though, definitely follow the other readers' suggestions regarding halfing the sugar. I did, and still find it on the sweet side. A little too sweet for me, but I know some people like it that way. I also subbed buttermilk for the water. And it's a tad on the dry side, but I couldn't bring myself to follow the other readers' suggestion to increase the butter from 1 stick to 1.5. Ouiser, you're a big user of the applesauce for oil sub; can you sub applesauce for butter? I'm thinking not... Anyway, the cornbread was pretty good. I would make it again, reducing the sugar to a half cup and trying to find someway to make it just a tad more moist.
Now, excuse me while I return to my regularly scheduled plan of sitting on my butt, reading, playing Nintendo, and watching Dr. Phil. Never mind that I have newly purchased 75% off decor fabric screaming to be made into curtains. Never mind that I have lumber sitting in the garage begging to be installed in the laundry room. Never mind that I have nothing to eat for dinner tonight because I can't stay on my feet long enough to make it through a grocery trip, never mind the actual cooking, without making my back situation worse again. Never mind that the bathroom is in such need of a good scrub down that I've started using the guest bathroom instead. Why do they wait until the third trimester, just when you're good an uncomfortable and needing to rest, to really let that nesting instinct kick in. This is just poor planning and foresight.
On the other hand, the Husband should soon be able to help with at least some of that, as tonight is his last night of class! He will officially graduate with his MBA this weekend and I will have a spouse again. I made him celebratory chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter cookies (but pointedly not chocolate chip peanut butter cookies, which he dislikes) last night to share during their final today.
Maybe I should try to take up knitting again. This would be my third or fourth attempt at learning to like it. I find knitting frustrating in much the same way I remember finding ballet when I was very small: I want to get right to the good stuff. I wanted to be en pointe in my first year. "Enough of this stretching crap, let's twirl!" I remember thinking. Likewise, enough little practice squares to measure the gauge. Enough scarves. I want to make these! And these! (Both courtesy of SuperBuzzy, found here.) By the way, I find it really funny that I'm now coveting (along with hoards of other crafters, I know) patterns for nordic products written in Japanese.
A little background about my work: all the therapy services in the hospital (speech, physical, occupational) are required to bill patients/insurance companies on a per unit basis, rather than per hour. That means, if I evaluate someone's swallowing, I bill them a certain number of unity. If I do swallowing therapy, that's a different number. If I do a modified barium swallow (swallowing x-ray) that's another number of units. Etc.
The hospital keeps tabs on us by tracking our "productive hours." We're supposed to bill a certain number of units per hour that we're clocked in as working, and thus getting paid. Usually it's no problem to hit that goal. Most of us are overly productive on most days. But some days just don't go the way you plan and some patients are more time-consuming and complicated than others. This, incidentally, is the same reason you run into problems with your PCP spending maybe 15 minutes with you, if you're lucky. Because they have to jam-pack in so many patients in order to make a profit, so the healthier ones get a drive-by because more time will be spent on the sicker, more complicated patients. They have to bill by units, rather than hours. Unlike lawyers and accountants, for instance, who, much more sensibly, are billed for their time. But enough criticism of health care. That is so beyond the scope of this blog.
Anyway, today was the first time I've ever worked for several hours and not been able to see one single patient! That's okay, it happens. But one patient whom I tried to see today stuck with me. It was the last one I was attempting before I gave up and went home. I was doing the chart review on her and got as far as reading that she had had an emergent c-section with lots of complications, including death of the fetus. She's 37. I stopped there. I cannot think of anything more inappropriate than me, 7 months pregnant, walking into this poor woman's room to address her swallowing. She apparently has some cognitive issues, too--I don't know if she had some sort of anoxic brain injury or what, but she's been combative. I'm sure there's at least some amount of psychological trauma involved. Either way, it was weird. I felt stunned. You know that horrible things happen; of course, I'm more acutely aware of fetal deaths because I'm pregnant. I think it was the close call of me almost going to treat this patient and how potentially painful just the sight of me would have undoubtedly been to this patient, and how traumatic that would have been for both of us.
My point in this long, rambling story is that it made me appreciate how healthy and lucky I am to have had such a relatively easy, problem-free pregnancy (and life) so far. The pain is a nuisance, for sure. But it's a small amount of suffering to bear compared to some.
On a much lighter note and completely different topic, I tried another cornbread recipe (we're still working our way through that damn chili!). The Husband implored me to try a "normal" cornbread recipe this time, and we both found this one to be pretty good. If anyone feels inspired to try it out though, definitely follow the other readers' suggestions regarding halfing the sugar. I did, and still find it on the sweet side. A little too sweet for me, but I know some people like it that way. I also subbed buttermilk for the water. And it's a tad on the dry side, but I couldn't bring myself to follow the other readers' suggestion to increase the butter from 1 stick to 1.5. Ouiser, you're a big user of the applesauce for oil sub; can you sub applesauce for butter? I'm thinking not... Anyway, the cornbread was pretty good. I would make it again, reducing the sugar to a half cup and trying to find someway to make it just a tad more moist.
Now, excuse me while I return to my regularly scheduled plan of sitting on my butt, reading, playing Nintendo, and watching Dr. Phil. Never mind that I have newly purchased 75% off decor fabric screaming to be made into curtains. Never mind that I have lumber sitting in the garage begging to be installed in the laundry room. Never mind that I have nothing to eat for dinner tonight because I can't stay on my feet long enough to make it through a grocery trip, never mind the actual cooking, without making my back situation worse again. Never mind that the bathroom is in such need of a good scrub down that I've started using the guest bathroom instead. Why do they wait until the third trimester, just when you're good an uncomfortable and needing to rest, to really let that nesting instinct kick in. This is just poor planning and foresight.
On the other hand, the Husband should soon be able to help with at least some of that, as tonight is his last night of class! He will officially graduate with his MBA this weekend and I will have a spouse again. I made him celebratory chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter cookies (but pointedly not chocolate chip peanut butter cookies, which he dislikes) last night to share during their final today.
Maybe I should try to take up knitting again. This would be my third or fourth attempt at learning to like it. I find knitting frustrating in much the same way I remember finding ballet when I was very small: I want to get right to the good stuff. I wanted to be en pointe in my first year. "Enough of this stretching crap, let's twirl!" I remember thinking. Likewise, enough little practice squares to measure the gauge. Enough scarves. I want to make these! And these! (Both courtesy of SuperBuzzy, found here.) By the way, I find it really funny that I'm now coveting (along with hoards of other crafters, I know) patterns for nordic products written in Japanese.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
The Knit Motherload
We received this very generous package from a friend of my mom's today (well, shipped by my mom [Thanks, Mom!], but given by her friend):
I especially love the five different sizes of booties. Plenty to grow into! And the sweater is so sweet.
Less impressive is my own first attempt at booties, of the sewn variety, from yesterday:
The pattern for these booties is free and can be found here. However, problems abound. Problems with me, I suspect, not the pattern. First, the soles are just regular woven cotton, so the pattern suggests you double up the layers, if desired, which I did desire and attempted. But try as I might, I could not get four layers of fabric to line up perfectly with the recommended zigzag stitch when sewing the soles to the uppers. Meaning little frayed edges are sticking out, especially on the bear pair. Second, the elastic didn't stay tacked on one of the (left) pink booties, but of course it chose to come untacked after the last stitching was complete, so I have to take apart the whole booty to get to the elastic again and start over. That pair is a heavier decorator fabric, so they hold the booty shape better.
I'm not sure how comfortable these actually are for babies though, so I can't decide whether to keep at it or give up. On the one hand, socks are so cheap and so much easier. On the other hand, these shouldn't be hard and I love the infinite color/pattern choice afforded by making them myself! There's another free pattern by Stardust Shoes here. The only reason I didn't start with hers is because it requires bonded fleece for the sole, which I didn't have on hand. But they look sturdier and might be worth a try. I'll share the results if I decide to give it a go.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Onesies Coming Out My Earsies
Today's pictures feature some of the worst lighting ever. Sorry.
This was a nice chili and cornbread dinner the Husband and I had last night. The chili is a Cincinnati Chili, according to Cooking Light. I didn't know what that meant before I made it, but apparently it means it's served over pasta. That seems like an overkill of carbs when already served with cornbread, but maybe we'll try it when we're out of cornbread. The cornbread included molasses among the ingredients, which was a nice tough with the spices in the chili.
I speant a few hours today churning out a ton of onesies. Some for my baby girl-on-the-way, some for the Husband's cousin's baby boy-on-the-way. I think I have easily over a dozen onesies at this point. And that's just in the 0-3 month range. This kid will not be wanting for clothes.
I'm off to meet the Husband for dinner at a friend's house. Four days until he's done his MBA!
This was a nice chili and cornbread dinner the Husband and I had last night. The chili is a Cincinnati Chili, according to Cooking Light. I didn't know what that meant before I made it, but apparently it means it's served over pasta. That seems like an overkill of carbs when already served with cornbread, but maybe we'll try it when we're out of cornbread. The cornbread included molasses among the ingredients, which was a nice tough with the spices in the chili.
I speant a few hours today churning out a ton of onesies. Some for my baby girl-on-the-way, some for the Husband's cousin's baby boy-on-the-way. I think I have easily over a dozen onesies at this point. And that's just in the 0-3 month range. This kid will not be wanting for clothes.
I'm off to meet the Husband for dinner at a friend's house. Four days until he's done his MBA!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Optimus Prime's Got Nothin' on True Love
I've been trying for three days to get a decent post up, but I've been so buried in copy editing that by the time I stop for the night I'm exhausted and haven't had the energy to blog. But I'll do my best.
Chewy is, happily, on the mend. Still taking antibiotics and laxatives for a few more days, but seems just about 100% again. It's the strangest thing...he takes the pills straight. And chews and swallows. Like they were treats. We don't have to hide them in dog food, or cheese, or peanut butter, or anything.
Last night we set out with some friends for what should have been one of the best movie nights of all time: The Princess Bride was scheduled to play on the big screen at the Fox Theater. But we got there and found that they had cancelled it due to the AC being out from the previous night's monsoon. AC? We don't need no stinkin' AC! This is Tucson! Our blood is the consistency of water. Just leave the doors open, we'll be fine. Nothing, nothing else we could have done that night would have been any kind of worthy substitute for that opportunity. Sadly, the only substitute available was Transformers. Definitely. Not. Worthy. As if I have to say so. But I will grant that I was at least entertained for most of it. Not as bored as I expected. Could have been worse. But save your money. Unless you're really into the Transformers. It's not that it was poorly made; it is what it is. I just had no interest in the subject matter.
In Christmas-in-July spirit I finished this Advent calendar. Trying to dig myself out from the pile of projects. It's slow going, but very satisfying.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Neither Snow, nor Rain, nor Heat, nor Gloom of Dark Magic...
Harry Potter should have arrived on my doorstep Saturday, according to an email I got from Amazon several weeks ago. I made big plans to drop everything the minute he arrived and head for a coffee shop to read all day. I even went to the gym early, started the laundry early, was as productive as possible, knowing that any minute the package would be delivered and the rest of the day would be lost to the world of magic.
When it got to be 8:30 at night and it still hadn't come, I gave up. My UPS tracking number said it was out for delivery, but obviously it wasn't coming. The next day, when UPS said it was delivered, the Husband got on the phone with Amazon who told him that UPS had delivered all their packages to the USPS. We grabbed the Pooch and headed to the mailbox.
The mailboxes in our neighborhood are clustered in big blocks of boxes that require keys to open them from the resident's (sidewalk) side, while the mail deliverer inserts them into the boxes from his (street) side. There is apparently a slight mismatch between what fits on the carrier's side vs the opening we see when we open our mailbox doors to pick up the mail. Or else he used an expanding charm to make it fit.
When it got to be 8:30 at night and it still hadn't come, I gave up. My UPS tracking number said it was out for delivery, but obviously it wasn't coming. The next day, when UPS said it was delivered, the Husband got on the phone with Amazon who told him that UPS had delivered all their packages to the USPS. We grabbed the Pooch and headed to the mailbox.
The mailboxes in our neighborhood are clustered in big blocks of boxes that require keys to open them from the resident's (sidewalk) side, while the mail deliverer inserts them into the boxes from his (street) side. There is apparently a slight mismatch between what fits on the carrier's side vs the opening we see when we open our mailbox doors to pick up the mail. Or else he used an expanding charm to make it fit.
We literally tore the box off the book while it was still in the mailbox in order to squeeze the book out. I was so frustrated when the book wouldn't come out. It was Sunday! Everyone else was well into their HPs, if not finished already! I was living in fear of overhearing a spoiler. The Husband, doubting Thomas that he is, said it was "against the laws of physics," that there was no way it was coming out of the mailbox. I think the magic of hope made it somehow shrink it's dimensions just enough to slip out once we had enough cardboard out of the way to turn it diagonally. And then it was mine.
I just finished tonight and felt so drained. I didn't want to talk to the Husband or anybody. I just wanted to sit and process and mourn the end. I was quite pleased with the whole thing, but it was just so intense. It has exhausted me. I was pleased to have been right about some of the theories that were important to me. And to have been right in some ways that I did not expect, but were better than I had guessed. I'll read it again in the near future, I think, now that the tension has abated some. I think I'd enjoy it more the second time, knowing in advance how it all turns out.
It was good, actually, that I had the book to while away the hours the last few days as the Pooch has been much under the weather. Sunday morning he was just not himself. He lazed around all day, more than expected. Then we realized he wasn't eating or drinking. Wouldn't even take treats or ice cubes. Seemed to have struggle or pain with urinating. We worried. We went to bed. The next morning was the same, so he went to the vet Monday. The Husband took him because he's too big for me to lift into the car while pregnant.
They mentioned Valley Fever, they mentioned urinary tract infections, they said he had a fever and had lost weight. They gave us antibiotics and said to feed him broth. We did. He threw both up. He went back to the vet. They took x-rays. No obstruction, but they saw he was a bit backed up. They gave us laxatives. So he's been on a steady diet of broth, with increasing proportions of dry food, along with the meds since then. No action from the back end yet, though he seems to be peeing just fine now. They drew blood. Results should be back tomorrow. But he's looking much more himself, so I think he'll be fine, whatever it is.
In the meantime, while waiting for Harry, I made a couple of soft books from panels my mom picked up at a yard sale.
And we've been enjoying dropping temps with the arrival of monsoon season.
Though some of us don't seem to have noticed one way or the other.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Dem Dry Bones
This is what I did on Sunday. The to-be-nursery has more recently been the guest bedroom. It currently has two large, hulking bookcases in it, which seemed like at least one too many for a baby's needs. Especially once we get the crib and glider in there. So I packed up all my old Greek and Latin texts, all my speech-language pathology stuff, most of the husband's computer books, and more. This freed up one whole bookcase, which will eventually be broken down and garaged, and half of the other, so there's plenty of room for baby books.I didn't feel like I was pushing it too much physically, but there's a good chance I was wrong. For the last couple of weeks I've been having increasing back pain. Not lower, which I would have expected, but upper right. Obviously due to the increasingly imbalanced weight, the loosening of the abdominal muscles, shifting upwards of the ribs. Getting through eight-hour days at work has been rough. I've been in pretty significant pain by the time I'm heading home (and "significant" for me, with this kind of pain, is noteworthy as I have a fairly high pain tolerance for this stuff). Can't take ibuprofen when you're pregnant and Tylenol does nothing for me. Anyway, Sunday night the pain was so bad it woke me up in the middle of the night and kept me up for hours. I'm not sure what that's indicative of exactly, but my years of interactions with orthopedists has taught me that it definitely falls under the classification of "not good." So Monday morning, instead of waiting for the pain to gradually build throughout the day, I got start off with it right from the get go! Yay.
But I heated and iced like crazy last night, with the husband's gracious assistance, and today was much better. Hubby also hooked me up with a prenatal massage tonight, which I'm hoping will also help. I've laid off the gym the last couple days. Doing some physical therapy exercises that my mother-in-law, a very experienced PT though unfortunately out-of-state, and a PT at work, also very experienced though unfortunately mostly in geriatric acute care, assigned me. I think it's only a muscular problem. I don't think there's anything skeletal going on, but I can't be sure as I do have a history of herniated and bulging discs. But that was several years ago. The massage therapist tonight said my scoliosis could be partly to blame. She was able to feel extra tightness on my right intercostals (muscles between your ribs that help you breathe) and left IT band (running from your hip to your knee), which support my mother-in-law's theory that it may have something to do with my ribs. That would also explain the day that it hurt to breathe. Not fun at all.
But it was better today, so we may just have to stick with this heat/ice/occasional massage regimen. I'd like to eke out at least one more month of work, if possible. Anyway, enough anatomy/injury talk.
Chewy is one year old! Can hardly believe it. We need to have a little doggie party for him. Or at least a doggie cake. Or an extra bone. Something.
This also alerted me that my one-year blog-day passed me right by without acknowledgement. Oh well. Can't keep up with every milestone.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Critic's Corner
I made the lemon cake Thursday night. Unfortunately, like Ouiser, I also neglected to take pictures of it. Mostly because I didn't put the glaze on until just before we left for the party last night, and we were in such a rush that it slipped my mind. But it was delicious, got lots of compliments, and it was kind of fun to make. I think because I had my new Microplane zester, with which I promptly grated some finger into the lemon within the first 30 seconds of use. Aside from that, zesting was much more enjoyable than ever; so efficient! One bit of warning with that recipe: it says six to eight large lemons. I used three. Did you find that, too, Ouiser?
Anyway, it was great. Which is an impressive review given that I was making it around the hours of 1:30 to 4:00 am. I couldn't help it. I came home from a nine-hour day at work (that didn't used to be a big deal, but apparently now I'm pregnant enough that it is), and was just so exhausted, I knew it was a bad idea, but I fell asleep at six-something. I woke up at 7:00 and made myself get up, tried to stay up until a decent bedtime hour, but nothing doing. Fell asleep again at 8:00, slept until the husband got home from class at 11:30. Then it was all over. I was up. So the baking occurred in the wee hours. Then I slept again from 4:00 to 6:00. Not ideal, but I survived, and I'll even say the cake was worth it. Wish I had a picture. It was pretty. Even the husband complemented the look of it and he never notices those things, nor does he, as a rule, even like lemon cake.
Tonight we saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I'll give no spoilers here, but I will say the following:
Anyway, it was great. Which is an impressive review given that I was making it around the hours of 1:30 to 4:00 am. I couldn't help it. I came home from a nine-hour day at work (that didn't used to be a big deal, but apparently now I'm pregnant enough that it is), and was just so exhausted, I knew it was a bad idea, but I fell asleep at six-something. I woke up at 7:00 and made myself get up, tried to stay up until a decent bedtime hour, but nothing doing. Fell asleep again at 8:00, slept until the husband got home from class at 11:30. Then it was all over. I was up. So the baking occurred in the wee hours. Then I slept again from 4:00 to 6:00. Not ideal, but I survived, and I'll even say the cake was worth it. Wish I had a picture. It was pretty. Even the husband complemented the look of it and he never notices those things, nor does he, as a rule, even like lemon cake.
Tonight we saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I'll give no spoilers here, but I will say the following:
- Daniel Radcliffe is growing into a fine actor. He's young, he's still got lots of improvement ahead of him, but he's becoming quite promising. All the teenage angst in this book gave him fodder with which to break in the real acting chops with this movie.
- Best casting choices: Luna Lovegood and Bellatrix LeStrange. Excellent. Perfect.
- Look for a line of dialogue from Luna that the husband and I can figure for nothing other than a massively blatant bit of foreshadowing that was not in the book. I know J. K. has lots of control in these movies. I can only assume she decided to sneak this in to please the fans, especially a week before the final book's released. I won't give the line, but fans should spot it easily.
- Also a fine performance by Imelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge. I expect that was an extremely challenging role to play--sickeningly sweet and terrifying at the same time--and she nailed it.
I don't have any real criticisms. The husband hates any movies made from books. But he also hates live music (I know, I know. And he's really quite smart about most other things, I swear.), so he clearly just has a real hang-up about anything altered from it's original version. I could stand for Julie Walters to be a little less shrill, but she does look just as I picture Mrs. Weasley. I will give away (because it's not really giving away anything) that they did not manage to include St. Mungo's, which is a shame as it would have been a really great piece of filmmaking. But you can't include everything, and I understand the limitations.
And I've got dibs on reading the book first (within this household anyway) when it comes next weekend! Very excited...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Shopping Spree
Today was the first "snow day" I've had this summer. Meaning, a day where we finally got so slow for the summer at work that we had too many people scheduled, so I got to stay home.
I spent the morning working on the most ridiculous paperwork for my professional certification. Remember over a year ago when I started my clinical fellowship? That was over in February. Granted, it took me a couple months to get all the paperwork together and send it in to them. But then it took them two more months to decide they couldn't find everything and send it back to me. Luckily I had photocopies of everything, but some of this stuff I sent in a year ago! Usually I'm very relaxed and methodical about form-filling and applications, but somehow having to do the same one for a second time five months after this should have been done with was overly stressful. But it's done and in the mail and I'm out $40 for having to reorder transcripts and test scores but whatever. It just better work this time.
I swam for half an hour today at the community pool, from about 11:00 to 11:30. And I'm burned. Probably doesn't sound unusual for July in Tucson, but this is the first time it's happened. I wonder if pregnancy makes you more susceptible to the sun? It's not a bad burn at all. The kind that will be gone tomorrow. But that's the third time in the past two months that I've gotten that kind of mild burn, so that's not so good. Now I know, so I'll know to where sunblock for even that brief of a swim.
I also had a marathon shopping day. I realized that no one will get any Christmas presents this year (or birthday for the 99% of people I know who have birthdays in December, myself included) unless I mail them in September or October. Somehow, I just don't see shopping, packaging, or trips to the post office happening in the six weeks after I have the baby. But this is good, because there are several little ones on my list, and since I've been having this sudden yearning to shop for my own baby (which is silly with showers coming), my plan was to take it out on them instead. Except that I ended up shopping for them and my own baby. Oops. Maybe the husband will talk some sense in to me and I'll return some of it. But it was only from Old Navy. One can't do too much damage there.
I also had a bit more maternity shopping to do. It never ends. Allow me to simply say that it's become blindingly apparent that certain undergarments I've been attempting to squeeze into for months past their limit just can't be squeezed into anymore. So I broke down and spent more money. On the plus side, these are things I'll need after the baby comes anyway, so I guess it's a wash. I also may have found a little something to wear for my shower in Ithaca in August, and to Scarlet Lily's engagement party. And a little something for Scarlet herself! Never fear, Scarlet, I will be plenty pregnant to satisfy even the likes of you in another five weeks. Believe me!
I also bought the lemons and things I needed to try that lemon cake. I'll tackle that tomorrow. I'm tuckered out from being such a good consumer today.
I spent the morning working on the most ridiculous paperwork for my professional certification. Remember over a year ago when I started my clinical fellowship? That was over in February. Granted, it took me a couple months to get all the paperwork together and send it in to them. But then it took them two more months to decide they couldn't find everything and send it back to me. Luckily I had photocopies of everything, but some of this stuff I sent in a year ago! Usually I'm very relaxed and methodical about form-filling and applications, but somehow having to do the same one for a second time five months after this should have been done with was overly stressful. But it's done and in the mail and I'm out $40 for having to reorder transcripts and test scores but whatever. It just better work this time.
I swam for half an hour today at the community pool, from about 11:00 to 11:30. And I'm burned. Probably doesn't sound unusual for July in Tucson, but this is the first time it's happened. I wonder if pregnancy makes you more susceptible to the sun? It's not a bad burn at all. The kind that will be gone tomorrow. But that's the third time in the past two months that I've gotten that kind of mild burn, so that's not so good. Now I know, so I'll know to where sunblock for even that brief of a swim.
I also had a marathon shopping day. I realized that no one will get any Christmas presents this year (or birthday for the 99% of people I know who have birthdays in December, myself included) unless I mail them in September or October. Somehow, I just don't see shopping, packaging, or trips to the post office happening in the six weeks after I have the baby. But this is good, because there are several little ones on my list, and since I've been having this sudden yearning to shop for my own baby (which is silly with showers coming), my plan was to take it out on them instead. Except that I ended up shopping for them and my own baby. Oops. Maybe the husband will talk some sense in to me and I'll return some of it. But it was only from Old Navy. One can't do too much damage there.
I also had a bit more maternity shopping to do. It never ends. Allow me to simply say that it's become blindingly apparent that certain undergarments I've been attempting to squeeze into for months past their limit just can't be squeezed into anymore. So I broke down and spent more money. On the plus side, these are things I'll need after the baby comes anyway, so I guess it's a wash. I also may have found a little something to wear for my shower in Ithaca in August, and to Scarlet Lily's engagement party. And a little something for Scarlet herself! Never fear, Scarlet, I will be plenty pregnant to satisfy even the likes of you in another five weeks. Believe me!
I also bought the lemons and things I needed to try that lemon cake. I'll tackle that tomorrow. I'm tuckered out from being such a good consumer today.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Goats and Sheep and Chickens, Oh My!
We're back from CA, safe and sound. We arrived on Wednesday. The plane was about an hour and a half late, but compared to my last misadventure, it was a dream flight. We stayed at my mother-in-law's farm, north of Sacramento, that she runs with her partner through Friday. My nephew, J, had been there all week and was an old farmhand (as old as you can be at not quite 18 months) by the time we got there. We met the pygmy goats and one regular goat, Mr. and Mrs. Baa (sheep, if you can't guess), and lots of chickens. It was about as ungodly hot there as it was in Tucson, unfortunately.
The husband feeding the pygmies, who are very shy.
Mr. and Mrs. Baa were rescued from previous owners who didn't have them sheared for three years, and it shows. Their new owners are currently desperately searching for someone to shear these poor creatures. They must be literally at least half wool.
Friday we headed to the cabin in Tahoe (the north side, sans fire), where we had a birthday party for the husband's uncle that evening. The next morning they through a baby shower for me--my first! It was lots of fun and included...
butterfly tattoos (even the boys were good sports and allowed themselves to be branded)...
and onesie decorating. The men joined in on this, too, which was great.
We brought home lots of fabulous gifts. We left Tahoe that evening to drive back to the farm, and flew out early Sunday morning. Too brief, as always, but it was great fun to see everyone and I was so touched that so many of the husband's family drove and flew in for the occasion. And Tahoe was beautiful, also predictably. It was the first time the husband and I had been there in the summer, though. The weather was perfect. I didn't manage to get any pics, but I know the husband's brother did, so I'll see if I can get some to share.
The flight home was also mercifully reasonable. Some nausea with the landing in Tucson (lots of turbulence), but it could have been worse. Keep your fingers crossed for my trip back East again in August.
I didn't work today, but kept plenty busy around the house. Also test-drove some Chai brownies from the March 2007 Cooking Light issue that I had planned to make for a pot-luck with people from work this Friday. Good thing I did because they did not turn out well. Very dry, so I won't share the recipe. I substituted whole wheat white flour for the all-purpose flour, which may have been the problem. Not sure. So now I'll have to come up with something else for Friday. Considering Ouiser's lemon cake.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Happy Independence Day
We're off to Sacramento and Tahoe (fortunately, the north side of the lake, not the south side where the fires were) for the holiday weekend! The husband and I are going to visit his family and have my first baby shower. Should be beautiful weather and lots of fun. I'll be back Sunday, and hope to post again on Monday. I've done nothing but work since my last post. When I wasn't at the hospital, I was home copy editing myself half to death. I'll try to have some pretty mountain scenery to post when I get back.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Mystery Solved
I made these biscuits from Ouiser's recipe on Saturday and they were delicious. She's totally right about the glaze, though: I accidentally made way too much and ended up wasting a ton of sugar. But they are otherwise perfect and the amount of orange flavor is right on. I didn't mess with her recipe at all and found it to be just right. Subtle, as she said, yes, but still very much there. I highly recommend them.
I've been working more the past two weeks (and will be right up until we leave for Sacramento next Wednesday) and have been exhausted! Twice in the last week I've fallen asleep at 8:00 and slept for 11 hours. As die Frau mentioned to me on the phone the other day, it was not uncommon for me to need that much sleep in college, but that was bookending other nights of getting four hours of sleep because I was on the phone with the husband (who was then merely the boyfriend) half the night, for example. So it made more sense. But I think I've finally figured out this mystery.
Those of you who have been pregnant know that once you get to about 20 weeks (I was 21 yesterday), you're not supposed to sleep on your back anymore. The weight of the baby/uterus/etc. is now enough to constrict the artery that returns the blood from your legs to your heart. So you have to sleep on your side, preferably the left. This requires multiple pillows between the knees, behind the back to support you. I've been doing this and notice that I have to switch sides every couple of hours because I wake up with hip pain in the hip my weight is on. Turning over means waking up completely because you have to rearrange all those pillows every time. So that's several sleep interruptions per night. That coupled with the work it takes to build a whole new person I think more than explains the 11-hour marathon sleep sessions.
It also explains the not blogging, not sewing, not unloading the clean dishes from the dishwasher and allowing the newly dirty ones to stack up, not folding the laundry (though I did at least wash it, which I maintain is the most important part).
I've been working more the past two weeks (and will be right up until we leave for Sacramento next Wednesday) and have been exhausted! Twice in the last week I've fallen asleep at 8:00 and slept for 11 hours. As die Frau mentioned to me on the phone the other day, it was not uncommon for me to need that much sleep in college, but that was bookending other nights of getting four hours of sleep because I was on the phone with the husband (who was then merely the boyfriend) half the night, for example. So it made more sense. But I think I've finally figured out this mystery.
Those of you who have been pregnant know that once you get to about 20 weeks (I was 21 yesterday), you're not supposed to sleep on your back anymore. The weight of the baby/uterus/etc. is now enough to constrict the artery that returns the blood from your legs to your heart. So you have to sleep on your side, preferably the left. This requires multiple pillows between the knees, behind the back to support you. I've been doing this and notice that I have to switch sides every couple of hours because I wake up with hip pain in the hip my weight is on. Turning over means waking up completely because you have to rearrange all those pillows every time. So that's several sleep interruptions per night. That coupled with the work it takes to build a whole new person I think more than explains the 11-hour marathon sleep sessions.
It also explains the not blogging, not sewing, not unloading the clean dishes from the dishwasher and allowing the newly dirty ones to stack up, not folding the laundry (though I did at least wash it, which I maintain is the most important part).
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Cooking Spree
The husband really had no time for any Father's-to-Be Day activities Sunday, so I decided to try to cook some of his favorite things for him at home. This met with varied success.
- Mom-in-Law's Pull-Apart Coffee Cake: Some of my 'Gater readers may have this recipe in the cookbook my SIL made for my bridal shower. I prepped this yesterday and we ate it this morning, and it was delicious, and the husband loved it. Nevertheless, there are a few tweaks that we decided need to be made to the recipe as written. (1) The recipe told me to bake it for an hour, but a half hour was plenty. (2) The recipe says to use an angel food cake pan, but after the husband described to me the pan it was made in by his mother when he was growing up, we determined that it is in fact meant for a Bundt pan. Doesn't sound like it should make much of a difference, but the recipe calls for layering three or four layers of dough with the sugar/butter mixture. With the angel food cake pan, I only got about one and a half layers because of the width of the bottom of the pan. Anyway, it was still delicious and if anyone wants the recipe, let me know.
- Black Walnut Pie: The particular recipe I used was one that the husband found a while ago that he wanted me to make for him. He developed a mild obsession with the concept of a black walnut pie after we read a bunch of the Lilian Jackson Braun (The Cat Who...) books, in which the main character lives in a town where black walnut pies are the local specialty. This was my first time making a nut pie of any kind. It was easy, but I won't bother giving the recipe. Way too much maple syrup...
- I also made a particular filet mignon dish that I've made several times before, about once a year, only on special occasions, but which we both have always loved. This time, it wasn't bad, but there was a definite problem with it that led us to call it filet mig-ham. It didn't look right when I cooked it. It didn't look right when I served it. It didn't smell right. And it tasted like ham. We checked the package twice and it definitely said beef filet mignon. Finally, on the third check of the package the husband noticed the tiny writing that noted the filet mignon was cured. Who knew anyone would cure filet mignon? What a waste. So it was too salty, and, as mentioned, tasted like ham. Oh well.
- I made asparagus for the first time. Overcooked it. I knew that would be easy to do. I just have so little experience steaming fresh veggies.
- Mashed potatoes were good and we have lots of leftovers.
- The biggest success was the pepperoni rolls. This is a recipe my mom gave me years ago that came off a food package, I think. I tried them once before and wasn't so successful. This time they came out perfectly. Here's the recipe; I highly recommend them.
Pepperoni Rolls
- 1 (1-pound) loaf frozen bread dough, thawed (don't substitute pizza dough; I made this mistake the first time)
- 3 Tbsp pesto sauce
- 2 cups Italian cheese blend (I used a 5-cheese blend, shredded. Have also seen 3- or 6-cheese blends)
- 3-4 oz sliced pepperoni
Roll bread dough into 20- x 12-inch rectangle. Spread surface with pesto sauce. Sprinkle with cheese. Top with pepperoni. Roll up, starting at long side. Cut into 12 slices. Place slices, cut side up, in greased muffin cups, pressing slightly. Cover. Let rise in warm place 45 minutes. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Bake 20 minutes or until golden brown.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The Happy Post
As I promised, here are some of the happier highlights from my trip to Northern NY:
- Of course, I got to spend lots of time with my parents.
- My mom and I went shopping in Burlington, VT. She basically took me on a maternity clothes shopping spree! I think she was a little distressed that I was living basically in two pairs of shorts and endless tank tops. As it is questionable whether these tank tops will fit all the way to the end, I think she feared me being in my last month with nothing else to wear, rockin' the Spears white trash maternity duds. She loaded me up with some really nice stuff that seems like it will only look better as I "show" more.
- My dad, a long-time on-again/off-again photographer, entered some of his work in a gallery showing for the first time ever! And...he sold a couple pieces! By chance, his second show, at a different gallery, was this past weekend, but I've yet to hear if that good luck carried over.
- Scarlet Lily got engaged! I knew this was coming before I flew out there as her fiance needed some minor assistance from me in the planning. We had a great celebratory dinner at her family's lake house and I got to see several old, dear friends, some of whom I think I haven't seen since my own wedding four years ago. I would also like to point out that I was chastised by Scarlet for not looking pregnant enough. You just can't please everybody...
- My parents and I went to a newish natural history museum in nearby Tupper Lake: The Wild Center. It focuses on the Adirondacks, from glacial formation of the mountain region to present day ecosystems. Most excitingly, it features Squeeker the Otter, who gives a very good show to entertain the people. Easily the most social and happy-looking animal in captivity I've seen in a long time. We followed this visit with an early Father's Day lunch.
This is not my photo, obviously, but a postcard my mom bought the husband because he was not able to make Squeeker's acquaintance himself.
And, of course, those are just the highlights!
In other news, I've been trying frantically all weekend to whip this house back into shape after two weeks of neglect. Today is laundry and cleaning focused; although, I still have errands and the gym...it'll never get done, but that will have to be okay. After today, I think I work 13 of the next 15 days, then leave for Sacramento to visit the husband's mother and other fam. I know, tempting the airline gods again so soon...
Friday, June 15, 2007
June Sucks
I'm back. And I hope you weren't looking forward too much to a photo-filled, happy post describing my trip because this one is going to be nothing but whiny. Just allow me to get it out of my system. Then a more pleasant post about my actual time in NY with my parents will follow.
As previously posted, I had the plague for the four or five days before I had to fly cross-country. I tried to be relatively stoic about that as I was just grateful that I didn't end up having to go to the hospital, as my OB vaguely threatened. Luckily, I kept down some applesauce and popsicles to avert that horror. The day before I had to actually fly, I felt significantly better, which was a lucky thing because the husband was back from China for only one day before I was scheduled to take off on my own jaunt. So I was hopeful about flying without ill (literally) effects.
Wrong. It generally takes three flights to get from Tucson to Burlington, VT, if you're trying to be economical. This is typically awful, but you kind of just have to not think about it and plod through. However, the experience is exponentially worsened, it turns out, if you feel like you're one jostle away from losing your lunch the entire 12-hour journey. The first leg of my flight was in a tiny little plane from Tucson to Denver, where I was squashed next to an obese woman, on the scale of those who intermittently end up in the news because the airline makes them buy two seats or something. I have sympathy for that plight; I'm not judgning. But I am 5'10" and nearly 20 weeks pregnant, so I'm no waify little thing that can easily curl up in half her seat when the other half is requisitioned by my seatmate. She did apologize. I said something like, "That's okay." To which she said, "Well, it's not, but..." And she was right, it wasn't okay, because by the end of the turbulent flight, when we started our descent, I was sweating with the little fan on full blast and 100% of my being focused on not needing to use the air sickness bag.
I did make it with stomach contents in place. And my next flight was also turbulent, but more spacious. The problem was, I had so little time between flights that I would just barely complete the hike to my next gate before they were boarding my next leg. So I never got to recover. And was feeling queasy before the second and third flights even took off, never mind by the time they landed. It was hell. Or at least I thought that was hell...
Flash forward one week through lots of lovely outings with my parents, the freaking beautiful Northern NY weather and scenery, the friends I got to visit with, and, of course, Scarlet Lily's engagement (!!!), all of which I'll try to cover soon. I was feeling 100% healthy for my trip home (except for those damn pregnancy headaches I keep getting) and looking forward to getting to know my husband again after over two weeks apart (minus the one day between our trips). My parents drove me to the airport, we had a nice lunch (the Burlington, VT airport is tiny and has one restaurant in it, outside of security, and it's actually good...if you ever find yourself there), and they dropped me off at the gate.
My plane boarded a little late, but no big deal. We neared DC (the first of the three-leg flights), the pilot announced we'd be on the ground in 20 minutes, I wasn't nauseated (yet), and we were landing on time...except that an hour later we were still in the air. The pilot announced that there was a thunderstorm over DC and they wouldn't let us land. We didn't have the fuel to stay in the holding pattern we were in, so we were being diverted to Baltimore...with a bunch of other flights in the same predicament...where we stayed, on the tarmac, for over four hours...without bathroom access as the lavaratory literally filled up. We were the last flight there, so were last in line, so we got serviced last. They eventually refueled us and emptied the lavaratory (which promptly was filled again in about 30 minutes). But DC was completely shut down so we were still stuck. They tried to get Baltimore to let us into a gate, or even drive a bus out to get us off the plane, but, according to the pilot, they were not being very cooperative. So we sat. Finally DC was letting planes in again, and we landed there about six hours late.
In the meantime, my connection to Denver had, of course, been cancelled. I got on the phone with the airline who rebooked my flight pretty quickly, but couldn't get me out until the next morning as it was now 10 pm. They also told me I would need to get my bags out of baggage claim and recheck them when I checked back in for my morning flight. So I left security, went to baggage claim, waited for my bags for a couple hours as they were backed up with all the screwed up flights coming in. Finally, I got suspicious that my bags weren't coming and went to talk to the baggage claim people. They looked it up and found that my bags were being held for my morning flight, so there was no reason I had to exit the secured terminal and go to baggage claim after all (this will be important later). So I went to talk to someone about finding a hotel. The guy looked at me like I was crazy and said all the hotels had been full for at least four hours. I started to feel a little panicky. The husband was at home and got online and on the phone trying desperately to find me a hotel. The best he could come up with was an hour and a half from the airport. I was getting a little tearful at this point, but still trying to hold it together. I stood in line for an hour and a half, starting to feel shaky, so I could get my new boarding passes and get back through security.
This is where I lost it. Security was apparently closed until about 4 am. It was, I think, somewhere in the neighborhood of 1 am at this point. I was tired, and pregnant, and not feeling well (again), and scared (mostly because the ticket agent had just told me that if I couldn't get a hotel I'd better go back through security and wait in the terminal where it was safer). There were people curled up on the hard, linoleum floor everywhere trying to sleep. I was far from the only person in this predicament. I was sitting on the floor, on my cell phone with my husband, crying heartily now. A cop came up to see if I was okay and directed me to a coffee shop in baggage claim where at least there were tables and chairs.
I got down there and realized that I hadn't had much to drink in about 13 hours (though I had eaten--thank God we packed that food in my carryon, Mom). I stood in line, came very close to fainting, but finally made it with food and drinks to a table. That helped. Across from me were tables adjacent to a padded bench, packed with people sleeping. I'm so tall, I doubted I'd fit on there even if there had been a space, but I was envious nonetheless. After about an hour I got lucky and somebody left. I grabbed there space, pulled my carryon bag and laptop as close to me on the floor as I could, and scrunched myself up into the smallest, pregnant, nearly 6-foot ball I could. I slept for two hours in that way where you're just barely asleep and you wake up with a start every five minutes or so. So not real sleep, but rest at least. It was loud, bright, and freezing.
Finally, my hips were too sore to stary there any longer (it wasn't that padded) and I realized it was 4:30, so I headed up to security, where the line was already unbelievably long. At 4:30 am. But it was moving so I got through in maybe 20 minutes. Here's where the real heartbreak set in: remember how I only left the terminal to begin with because the stupid airlines agent told me I had to get my baggage, which turned out not to be true? All the people that hadn't been led astray thusly were sleeping in what, at the time, equated to luxurious beds, where they all were stretched out on there own benches with lots of space, it was warm, the airport had dimmed all the lights (!!), and given them blankets and pillows!! I could have spat on them all.
I eventually found breakfast. I read. I curled up on my own bench, sans pillow or blanket, but while the lights were still dimmed, and caught a little sleep. Bided my time until 9:00 when my plane finally boarded. I flew to LA without incident, sleeping most of the way. Then finally, finally, got back to Tucson around 5 pm. A day later than I should have. The husband has class Thursday nights and couldn't skip it, nor could he find anyone available to pick me up, so I paid $60 to take a cab all the way back to our house. Finally. Bed never felt so good.
Today I have to work, which is too bad because I'm still not feeling 100% again. But after missing so much due to illness and vacation, I need the money. So I'm heading in shortly for a half day. Then home to sleep some more, no doubt.
Okay, that's the end of my epic whining. Cheerier post next time, promise.
As previously posted, I had the plague for the four or five days before I had to fly cross-country. I tried to be relatively stoic about that as I was just grateful that I didn't end up having to go to the hospital, as my OB vaguely threatened. Luckily, I kept down some applesauce and popsicles to avert that horror. The day before I had to actually fly, I felt significantly better, which was a lucky thing because the husband was back from China for only one day before I was scheduled to take off on my own jaunt. So I was hopeful about flying without ill (literally) effects.
Wrong. It generally takes three flights to get from Tucson to Burlington, VT, if you're trying to be economical. This is typically awful, but you kind of just have to not think about it and plod through. However, the experience is exponentially worsened, it turns out, if you feel like you're one jostle away from losing your lunch the entire 12-hour journey. The first leg of my flight was in a tiny little plane from Tucson to Denver, where I was squashed next to an obese woman, on the scale of those who intermittently end up in the news because the airline makes them buy two seats or something. I have sympathy for that plight; I'm not judgning. But I am 5'10" and nearly 20 weeks pregnant, so I'm no waify little thing that can easily curl up in half her seat when the other half is requisitioned by my seatmate. She did apologize. I said something like, "That's okay." To which she said, "Well, it's not, but..." And she was right, it wasn't okay, because by the end of the turbulent flight, when we started our descent, I was sweating with the little fan on full blast and 100% of my being focused on not needing to use the air sickness bag.
I did make it with stomach contents in place. And my next flight was also turbulent, but more spacious. The problem was, I had so little time between flights that I would just barely complete the hike to my next gate before they were boarding my next leg. So I never got to recover. And was feeling queasy before the second and third flights even took off, never mind by the time they landed. It was hell. Or at least I thought that was hell...
Flash forward one week through lots of lovely outings with my parents, the freaking beautiful Northern NY weather and scenery, the friends I got to visit with, and, of course, Scarlet Lily's engagement (!!!), all of which I'll try to cover soon. I was feeling 100% healthy for my trip home (except for those damn pregnancy headaches I keep getting) and looking forward to getting to know my husband again after over two weeks apart (minus the one day between our trips). My parents drove me to the airport, we had a nice lunch (the Burlington, VT airport is tiny and has one restaurant in it, outside of security, and it's actually good...if you ever find yourself there), and they dropped me off at the gate.
My plane boarded a little late, but no big deal. We neared DC (the first of the three-leg flights), the pilot announced we'd be on the ground in 20 minutes, I wasn't nauseated (yet), and we were landing on time...except that an hour later we were still in the air. The pilot announced that there was a thunderstorm over DC and they wouldn't let us land. We didn't have the fuel to stay in the holding pattern we were in, so we were being diverted to Baltimore...with a bunch of other flights in the same predicament...where we stayed, on the tarmac, for over four hours...without bathroom access as the lavaratory literally filled up. We were the last flight there, so were last in line, so we got serviced last. They eventually refueled us and emptied the lavaratory (which promptly was filled again in about 30 minutes). But DC was completely shut down so we were still stuck. They tried to get Baltimore to let us into a gate, or even drive a bus out to get us off the plane, but, according to the pilot, they were not being very cooperative. So we sat. Finally DC was letting planes in again, and we landed there about six hours late.
In the meantime, my connection to Denver had, of course, been cancelled. I got on the phone with the airline who rebooked my flight pretty quickly, but couldn't get me out until the next morning as it was now 10 pm. They also told me I would need to get my bags out of baggage claim and recheck them when I checked back in for my morning flight. So I left security, went to baggage claim, waited for my bags for a couple hours as they were backed up with all the screwed up flights coming in. Finally, I got suspicious that my bags weren't coming and went to talk to the baggage claim people. They looked it up and found that my bags were being held for my morning flight, so there was no reason I had to exit the secured terminal and go to baggage claim after all (this will be important later). So I went to talk to someone about finding a hotel. The guy looked at me like I was crazy and said all the hotels had been full for at least four hours. I started to feel a little panicky. The husband was at home and got online and on the phone trying desperately to find me a hotel. The best he could come up with was an hour and a half from the airport. I was getting a little tearful at this point, but still trying to hold it together. I stood in line for an hour and a half, starting to feel shaky, so I could get my new boarding passes and get back through security.
This is where I lost it. Security was apparently closed until about 4 am. It was, I think, somewhere in the neighborhood of 1 am at this point. I was tired, and pregnant, and not feeling well (again), and scared (mostly because the ticket agent had just told me that if I couldn't get a hotel I'd better go back through security and wait in the terminal where it was safer). There were people curled up on the hard, linoleum floor everywhere trying to sleep. I was far from the only person in this predicament. I was sitting on the floor, on my cell phone with my husband, crying heartily now. A cop came up to see if I was okay and directed me to a coffee shop in baggage claim where at least there were tables and chairs.
I got down there and realized that I hadn't had much to drink in about 13 hours (though I had eaten--thank God we packed that food in my carryon, Mom). I stood in line, came very close to fainting, but finally made it with food and drinks to a table. That helped. Across from me were tables adjacent to a padded bench, packed with people sleeping. I'm so tall, I doubted I'd fit on there even if there had been a space, but I was envious nonetheless. After about an hour I got lucky and somebody left. I grabbed there space, pulled my carryon bag and laptop as close to me on the floor as I could, and scrunched myself up into the smallest, pregnant, nearly 6-foot ball I could. I slept for two hours in that way where you're just barely asleep and you wake up with a start every five minutes or so. So not real sleep, but rest at least. It was loud, bright, and freezing.
Finally, my hips were too sore to stary there any longer (it wasn't that padded) and I realized it was 4:30, so I headed up to security, where the line was already unbelievably long. At 4:30 am. But it was moving so I got through in maybe 20 minutes. Here's where the real heartbreak set in: remember how I only left the terminal to begin with because the stupid airlines agent told me I had to get my baggage, which turned out not to be true? All the people that hadn't been led astray thusly were sleeping in what, at the time, equated to luxurious beds, where they all were stretched out on there own benches with lots of space, it was warm, the airport had dimmed all the lights (!!), and given them blankets and pillows!! I could have spat on them all.
I eventually found breakfast. I read. I curled up on my own bench, sans pillow or blanket, but while the lights were still dimmed, and caught a little sleep. Bided my time until 9:00 when my plane finally boarded. I flew to LA without incident, sleeping most of the way. Then finally, finally, got back to Tucson around 5 pm. A day later than I should have. The husband has class Thursday nights and couldn't skip it, nor could he find anyone available to pick me up, so I paid $60 to take a cab all the way back to our house. Finally. Bed never felt so good.
Today I have to work, which is too bad because I'm still not feeling 100% again. But after missing so much due to illness and vacation, I need the money. So I'm heading in shortly for a half day. Then home to sleep some more, no doubt.
Okay, that's the end of my epic whining. Cheerier post next time, promise.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
On the mend
Starting to finally feel better. And a lucky thing, too, as I am scheduled to fly cross-country tomorrow to visit my hometown. I'll be there a week and may try to post while I'm there, but can't make any promises. So expect that my blog-break will last at least that long. But I promise to return and resume! Everyone needs a little summer vacay after all...
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Unscheduled Hiatus
I have the plague (or something similar). And the husband is out of the country. It has not been a good few days and will probably be several more before I return. Just thought I'd better announce that I am alive, and actually do seem to be slowly improving. But I need some more time and some more mending first...
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