Handbags, best friends, and orange chicken

(Hey, I did warn you that this would be...err..tangential, didn't I?)

Yesterday, my best friend and I went out and did girl stuff. She lives three hours away and has four kids and a night job to boot, so it was something of a miracle that she made it down at all. But she did. And we had a blast. We hit our local metaphysical supply store (hey, where else are you going to get both altar statues and incense?), our local Coach outlet (bwahaahahahah!) and brought orange chicken home for dinner from our favorite Chinese place. (Or in other words, we fulfilled our evolutionary destiny as hunters and gatherers by shopping. And we helped the economy too...you can't beat that. :-P)

Alwyn (not her real name) and I have been friends since we were *mumble, mumble* teenagers and when we were out yesterday, it struck me how nice it was to have known someone that long---before I was a mother, before I was a wife...back to when we were both teenagers working at the Ren Faire. We've grown and changed, of course, and there have been times when we've been thoroughly annoyed with and by each other, but after nearly 20 years, we're still friends. I've known that she'll be there for me no matter what, and she knows the same. She helped keep me sane when I was on bedrest and was there when I had my daughter. And somehow, even though it's been nearly a year since we've talked to each other, we can just pick up after we left off...like we were never apart at all.

Anne Rivers Siddons in her novel Colony wrote of another friendship that the character's spouse was her heart, but the friend was her soul. I can't think of a better way to say it. :)

Ding, dong, the Blog Roll's Back :)

Yes, the (in)famous blog roll from Ehell is back. The topic this week is a Christmas memory, so...here goes. :-)

On Christmas, 2006, DH and I had a two week old baby in the NICU. What I remember most when I think about it is how very small she was and how scared DH and I were. We knew she'd probably be premature (I still can't decide if I would have been happier not knowing that particular detail) but knowing it and seeing it are two different things. Everything is in miniature--hands, feet, toes, fingers. Her feet were just the length of my thumb. Her skin was so thin, thin enough that I could see the red light of the oxygen monitor as it pulsed against her foot.

I remember noticing the fine hairs of her eyebrows and the angel kisses on her forehead and the small birthmark on the back of her neck that was just like my father's. I remember how we learned to tune out the noises of the NICU--the monitors, the chatter, the faint whirr of breastpumps, just to be able to concentrate on our own child....and how we learned to read our daughter's monitors and speak NICUese. But most of all, I remember wanting her so badly to come home.

Here comes the sun :)

With apologies to George Harrison, of course. :)

Last night, my hubby, the wee one, and I went to our first ever Solstice celebration at our local Unitarian Universalist church. It was quite the experience---wassail, carols, poetry readings, dance, song and most of all, a sense of community recreating the magic of the longest night of the year.

I'm not quite sure what the wee one thought about it; it was getting close to her bedtime when the ceremony started and I think she wanted to stay up to watch it, but was also overtired and close to meltdown, so DH and I played "pass the baby" more than a few times. We got through it, though, and I bet next year, she'll really get a kick out of it.

There were some mysteries last night too...and of all nights, when the sun doesn't come for hours upon hours, I think that's appropriate. There was an old woman there (the crone? Who knows?) who sat upon a throne while people came up and talked quietly to her, and she to them. I don't think she was a priestess---though she certainly could have been. Maybe she was just known for being wise. I don't know. But as she sat upon her throne, surrounded by Christmas lights and the Green Man and poinsettias, I got a dim sense of what it must have been like for those ancient people on the longest night of the year.

To all my reader(s)...whatever your beliefs, I wish you peace and happiness this holiday season. Blessed be.

Oh, boy, is it ever a Monday...

Just a little Monday misery I thought I'd share:

1) It's raining. Not usually an issue (it's the only weather we ever get) but it's freezing rain and that makes the freeways not so much fun.

2) My pentacle pendant has disappeared. I think---because it's so tiny---it probably bounced somewhere in the bathroom...so it's more on vacation instead of really lost. And if it is lost, I know where to find another, but I just don't want to. I liked that particular pendant. Le sigh.

3) Our Christmas tree is up (yay) but our ornaments and lights aren't...because they're buried somewhere in a bin which---with our luck---is way the heck in the back of the second bedroom (aka, our storage room.) And frankly, I'm not sure it's worth moving everything out and putting everything back in just to find one storage bin. But it sure would be nice to have them on the tree.

And yes, I know that none of these things is really all that bad, considering. I still have a job, DH is pretty healthy (knock wood) and the wee one is, well, a typical toddler, just getting in touch with her inner drama queen. But man, I hate Mondays sometimes....:)

Happy Birthday to my Wee One

The wee one turned two on Saturday (gulp) and we had the usual festivities---lunch with her grandfather (my FIL,) cake and presents. (Though I'm not entirely sure she understood why she was getting gifts, but she sure seemed to enjoy them.) And then Sunday, we took her out to the Wild Animal Park, where she was enchanted by birds (well, not all of the birds, but most of them,) giraffes, lionesses and zebras.

And once again, I was struck by how ordinary all of this was. She's a normal two-year-old, all mood swings and smiles and tears, and I'm so very, very grateful that she is so normal. She's also picking up words at a faster pace---dinosaur (um, wonder where she got that from? :-P) and carrying on whole conversations on her play phone. (Mostly consisting of "Hi, hello, what," and "bye-bye." At least she's polite...)

So, happy birthday, Wee One. Your father and I love you very much and bless the day you came into our lives.

Just give a damn...

(Warning: you are now entering Tangent Land)

A number of years ago, I read an excellent Star Trek fanfic (yes, they do exist :)) where one character asked another what she expected him to do. The answer was, "Just give a damn." For some reason, that line stuck in my head---maybe it's because what we all expect someone to do. Just give a damn about us, our lives, and for the love of deity, don't pretend you get it, when you really don't.

Which brings me to this

http://community.livejournal.com/obama_daily/153184.html

These are photos taken of the Obama family's trip to St. Columbanus High School in Chicago to hand out food at a food bank. I'm as cynical as they come (especially given the antics of the last eight years) but I don't think this is an act for them. They get it. They give a damn. And you can see it in their faces and in the faces of the other people in the photos.

I don't know what kind of president Obama will be yet. I don't know if his attempts to help us get our bus out of the ditch will make things worse, or better. But it's nice to have someone at the helm who gives a damn.

And on to a last, minor tangent:

To all my reader(s): I wish you all a Thanksgiving full of good food, good times, good friends...and lacking drama, angst, or undercooked turkey.

The Turn of the Wheel

In the old Celtic pagan calendar, Samhain (or Halloween) marked the end of the year. So, in a sense, it's already 2009. (Yikes.) So my thoughts tonight are on the new year and a dilemma that's tickling at the back of my mind.

I'm still in the broom closet at work. I work with a lot of very good people, don't get me wrong, but many of them are also very devout Christians...and some of them are of the evangelical persuasion. And there's the rub. I respect their beliefs, and their right to have those beliefs, but I can't guarantee that mine will receive the same respect.

I don't talk about religion at work, which is fine for the most part, but sometimes it strikes me that I should be free to wear my pentacle, as a symbol of a faith that, while private, is not something I'm ashamed of. (I often wear a Mother Goddess pendant, which doesn't get so much as a hairy eyeball...but then, in my experience, people don't initially associate the Mother Goddess with paganism. I'm not sure why. :))

So with the turn of the wheel, I'm starting to ask myself if it's time to take a step out of the broom closet. Wearing the pentacle openly is more than it seems---it's also a step into fully acknowledging my beliefs and being prepared to defend them.

Do I want to open that can of worms at work? I'm not sure.

Stay tuned for further details :)

"Hi, Mommy"

Yeah, that was said to me today, for the first time. On the phone. My daughter is now speaking. Not in sentences (yet, though that's clearly coming) but the wheels are turning and she's talking. She's talking. :)

Preemies sometimes have speech or motor delay, and yeah, her dad and I were a little concerned. Not about her motor skills (good gods, the kid doesn't spin, she pirouettes...so, no, nothing wrong with her motor skills.) But her speech seemed very mildly delayed...and yeah, we were worried, the more so because we know how lucky we are that the wee one escaped her stint as a preemie with only a few IV scars. Lots of other kids aren't so lucky...and besides, telling the parents of a preemie not to worry is like telling them not to breathe. It just doesn't happen.

So yeah, today she's speaking. She knows I'm her mommy and she hugs me. Life is good. :)

Some loose ends...:-)

*We survived last Sunday's trip to the No Obama Zone. Mom only made one comment about how she loves Sarah Palin (hey, someone has to) and how we're all "just soooo unfaiiiirrrr to her" but that was tolerable. Save me from one of her rants any day of the week.

The wee one was her usual cute self, and stunned the grandparents with her growth. (They hadn't seen her since July, so...yeah. She's grown. Like two or three inches.)

*The wee one got her flu shot on Wednesday, in which we discovered a few things. 1) She likes trucks, and cars, and things with wheels, and giant legos. 2) She is not bothered at all by boys who have three inches and ten pounds on her and who won't let her play with THEIR truck and 3) She trusts everyone. As a parent, I know that means it's because she's never been hurt, and I know it can't last. And that makes me sad.

*She also got her first haircut yesterday. She looks like a toddler now, not my tiny baby. Oh, she's still small (though catching up pretty darned quickly) but you can see from looking at her that she's leaving her babyhood behind. I still haven't figured out how I feel about that--mostly, I'm happy she's growing, but I guess I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't miss the baby she'll never be again.

Oh, for goddess' sake...

Yeah, I had "that" conversation with my mom tonight. Being a dedicated Republican, she voted for McCain. Fine. It's a free country and it's her right. But then I got called a "feminazi" (thanks, Rush, for that particular endearing term, you bastard) because I told her---when she asked---that I didn't like Sarah Palin. (And again, this isn't any great shock. I voted for Obama, for deity's sake---not because I believe in sunshine and rainbows and purple fluffy unicorns, but because I believe, truly, that he's the best person for the job.)

Sure. I'm a feminazi because I insist that having two "x" chromosomes doesn't mean diddly if you aren't qualified for the office. Riiiiggghhhhttt....

So, yeah. We're heading to the No-Obama Zone this weekend (seeing my parents on Sunday) and I'm pretty sure my tongue will be near bitten off come Monday.

Le sigh.

Oh, you know I have to say it...

YES, WE CAN!!! AND WE DID!!!

I cried last night watching the people at Grant Park, in Atlanta, in Times Square. I saw hope in their faces and I knew I'd voted for the right man. Obama's facing a world of trouble---some within the country, some without. But last night, he made us believe in ourselves again...and so, no matter the work that has to be done, I know we as a country can do it.

Yes, we can. And we will.

No, "we" are not discussing this. Ever.

Let me be the first to say that my relationship with my mom can be a bit strained.

Nevertheless, I know she loves me. But every so often, she gets on a kick and it's all I can do to keep from pounding my head against a wall. Sunday was that kind of conversation. I was telling her of my shopping trip to Wally World, how I saw the preemie clothes there and how, once upon a time, even those would have been too big for my daughter. (The wee one was a whopping 3 1/2 pounds when she was born, which gives you something of an idea.) For me, this is a happy thing---when your preemie daughter is now into normal clothes for her age (and is also as normal as she can be with our genes) it's something to celebrate.

But oh, no, not for mom. The conversation went off the proverbial deep end. Mom started on with, "But you won't want to do that again, it's just too hard, you don't want to have another child."

Oh, really? How nice of you to tell me what I do (or don't) want to do with my reproductive organs. /end sarcasm

I bean-dipped* her. No joy there---she went off the subject for a little bit, then was back on it again, with a twist. Now, it seems, I don't "understand" how hard it was for everyone else. (Hey, lady, nine weeks of bedrest ain't exactly a cakewalk.) I got the lecture on how concerned she and dad were (which, to be fair, I'm sure they were) and how---again---I couldn't possibly be thinking of ever having another child. (Of course not. I'll be 35 in May and I love being a mom just as much as DH loves being a Dad. Of course, we couldn't possibly want to be parents again. /sarcasm) And yes, we know what the odds are of us having another premature baby (less than what they were with the wee one) and yes, I know I'd have to spend some time on bedrest. And that's...well, it's not okay, but it's how my "normal" pregnancies go. :)

The thing is, if she'd actually treat me like, say, an adult, I'd tell her this stuff. I'd also tell her that it's by no means guaranteed that we will even be able have a second child (not to put too fine a point on it, but all those TV shows where they show one night of unprotected sex and the woman gets pregnant instantly? They're lying) and that if it should turn out that way, that we'd be okay with it too.

Or maybe I wouldn't tell her. I don't know. What I do know is that I don't want to hear about it from her. I don't want her advice if I haven't asked for it. And lastly, I just want the simple courtesy of not being blathered at as if I were a disobedient kindergartner. Whatever decision DH and I make, will be the right one for us.

Le sigh. Maybe I should have some cheese with my whine....



*For those of you who don't know what I mean, I tried to change the subject. Repeatedly.

The Ties That Bind

My grandfather is in the hospital---at 91 years old, he's still fairly sharp, but his body is slowly giving out on him. Being honest, we haven't really had a good relationship; when I was younger, he seemed to think of me only in terms of what I wasn't--I wasn't tall, or thin, or blonde, or as pretty or smart as my older cousins. And there's been some ugliness much more recently that's made it hard for me to talk to him, even now.

But I called him in the hospital. And I'm glad I did. For all his faults, he's still the only grandfather I have left. And he loves my daughter---loves her and asks after her and is interested in her in a way he never was with me. So...yeah, I'll call him tomorrow.

Well, you asked ;-)

Yesterday, my mom asked The Question. No, not how her granddaughter is doing, or how my DH is doing.

No. She asked about Sarah Palin and if I liked her. ::shudder::

See, my mom and I are polar opposites on things political---which is why discussions of politics rank up there with religion and taxes as Things We Do Not Talk About. We used to try and talk politics, but it degenerated into an argument pretty quick (with my mom's famous capper, "Well, you're young. When you're my age, you'll be a Republican." Uh, mom, I'm a married thirty-something with a toddler. How old do I have to be before I get a right to my own opinion? :-/)

Anyhow, she asked. And I told her about all the things that make me very uneasy about the choice of Sarah Palin as a VP. It's purely a mental exercise on my part; I haven't voted Republican for...well, ever, so it's not like I'm finding reasons not to vote for a candidate I wasn't going to vote for anyway. :)

My mom expressed shock at all of the things I told her, things which have been all over the news lately and which shouldn't be a shock to anyone not living in a cave since 2000. Which made me wonder---if my mom, who is a card-carrying Republican (except when she voted for Bill Clinton twice ;0))---didn't hear this stuff, who else has been drinking the metaphorical kool-aid? Hopefully, not the rest of the country. :-O

For the record, I don't think Sarah Palin is evil. I don't think she's a bimbo. Do I think she's absolutely the wrong choice? Yes. Do I find her views on pretty much everything to be scary? Yes.

And do I worry when it seems that people are drinking the kool-aid yet again? Yes. Please, America, wake up. Choose the candidate of your choice based on the issues, not on chromosomes or how much they're (allegedly) like you. Your country deserves better.

Where Were You on 9/11?

I was at home, ironing my slacks for work. I heard CNN announce there was a fire at one of the World Trade Center towers, and I'm ashamed to say now that I wasn't too worried. Then.

So I got in my car and went to work. I didn't listen to the radio that day because I was in the middle of an email argument with my then-boyfriend and I was trying to think what to say to him later on.

I logged into my computer and I still didn't know how much the world had changed. BF shot me a nasty email in response to mine (to this day, I can't remember what we were arguing about, but it hardly matters---we split later that week) and asked me if I'd seen the news that morning. I replied, "What, about the fires at the WTC?" He emailed back: "It's not a fire. Turn on the TV."

And then, and only then, did I notice how quiet it was. People were sobbing quietly but there was a strange stillness to it all. I watched in shock as the second tower fell, as the man jumped out of the building, as all of NYC was coated in dust and horror and as our world changed forever.

I can't watch the films now, but I don't have to. All I have to do is close my eyes.

9-11. Never forgive. Never forget.

At long last...another Blog Roll post :)

I'm a little behind *ducks* so I'm cherry picking at the moment...:O)

The blog roll post for Aug. 23 was this: "Looking back, what minor event in your life has made a major outcome in how things turned out?"

What? I get only one? :-P

Well, here goes.

I have a daughter. She's healthy, happy, and whole...but it almost wasn't that way.

I had a perfectly normal, boring pregnancy for the most part. I did all of my prenatal visits, took my vitamins, was more careful with what I ate, etc. And I never felt more wonderful in my life. :)
(No morning sickness either...please don't hurt me. :-P)

When I was about 18 weeks along, my OB mentioned I should take the AFP test to screen for Down's Syndrome and spina bifeda. No, I told her, it wouldn't make a difference in whether I chose to continue the pregnancy, so why take it?

But I also trusted her medical advice. So, I took the test. The odds came back at 1 in 86...which is pretty high for woman my age. DH and I were stunned. My OB said, gently, that I'd need to have another ultrasound and an amnio to confirm the results...but she also mentioned that the AFP test itself had a high error rate.

The first level 2 ultrasound I got at 18 weeks had to be repeated (DD was jitterbugging all over the screen, so the tech couldn't get any measurements.) The tech asked me to come back, and again, I almost didn't. Not because I was afraid the AFP test had been correct, but because it really wouldn't have made a difference to us at the time.

But I came back, mainly because I had to know. DH had bronchitis, so he waited in the car. And I got up on the table and the tech pressed the wand into my belly. I watched DD move around on the screen, saw her heart beating and her brain inside her head. Then I realized that the tech was really quiet. I asked her what was wrong and she said--probably violating all the rules about what ultrasound techs are and aren't allowed to say---"You're dilating."

Yeah. Not what I was expecting at all. She got the doctor to confirm the results, and I went that night into the hospital for emergency surgery to close my cervix. I spent the next nine weeks on bedrest until DD was born at nearly 31 weeks. It was a near miss, to say the least.

DD made it, of course, but if it hadn't been for at least three choices on my part, the quick eyes of an ultrasound tech, and the skills of her doctors, she wouldn't have.

The irony that the one prenatal test I almost didn't take is the one that ultimately saved her life is something that hits me now and again. How do you account for serendipity like that?

Roseola: 1 Baby: 0

Yesterday, DD came down with a rash all over her chest and back and neck. So, today, DH and I took the wee one into the pediatrician's office. Turns out, the rash is called roseola, which is a rash caused in response to a viral infection. The good news is that it's neither contagious nor dangerous nor itchy. The bad news: DD still has a major case of the cranks. At least the rash should be gone in 3-4 days....we're hoping the cranks go away sooner. :)

My mom wants photos. Don't ask me why. DD is miserable, cranky and not really at her best...and if it was me, I sure wouldn't want photos of myself when I was sick. So...no, no photos. After some thought, I did send her an email link to a picture of a roseola rash, if she's concerned about the diagnosis....which I hope satisfies her curiosity.

This thing about photos..it's weird. We have a lot of photos from DD's weeks in the NICU, because those were also the first days of her life. Now that she's healthy and happy and, well, a normal kid, I don't see us taking pictures of her when she's sick. I was sick a lot as a kid and there aren't any pictures of me from those times, and I'm glad.

So, if DD discovers my makeup one day...yeah, there will be pictures. You betcha. But when she's sick...nope. :-)

What it takes to make you feel helpless

Thursday night, my daughter started running a fever, her very first. I should probably mention that she's nearly two and thus far (aside from coming ten weeks early) has been the picture of health.

So, her dad and I were a little freaked. Her dad called the pedi Friday night when nothing we did seemed to help and the message was that, basically, we were doing all we could, that we'd just need to let the fever run its course, that some OTC meds were fine, but the fever itself wouldn't hurt her, just make her miserable.

And lo, it did. The first OTC med we tried didn't actually work, which ended up being a shock. So we called the pedi again (bless you Dr G for your patience with newish parents :)) And she told us that everything was still in the "no reason for concern yet" zone---which was reassuring, since we both had visions of us rushing her to Children's Hosptial. Last night she was up and down and up again, but her fever finally broke around 2am.

We think she's on the mend. Maybe. We hope. But I haven't felt so helpless since she was a wee thing in the NICU. :-(

Tales of a Convention Junkie

Okay. I admit it. I'm a mature, thirty-something woman. I vote, when I remember to do so. I read the paper and I try to stay informed. Last week's DNC was the first convention I've watched since 1992.

And wow. I'm not a fangirl (or maybe I'm just in De Nial :-P) I wasn't originally an Obama supporter---I used to support the candidate now known (in my mind, at least) as Skunk Boy. Then he backed out...a good thing, as it turned out. And I considered supporting Hillary, before the whole "I was under fire in Bosnia thing" and her politics turned so egotistical, self-righteous, and...well, mean.

I did catch Obama's speech in 2004---as I recall, I was channel-surfing, and I just happened to catch it. Even then, I thought he was going places fast---I just didn't know how fast.

So I watched the entire convention with my husband and my baby (who clapped when everyone else did :) And for the first time in a long time, I felt hope---not the kind of hope you feel when the magician does a trick and you hope it's real, even though you know it can't possibly be. The kind of hope where you think that yes, we can be better than this, that we don't have to settle for leaders who think the Constitution is a kleenex, that we can aim for the best of our ideals and still be pragmatic about the hard work that needs to be done.

I have hope. And so I say it now...yes, I support Obama.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name...

..or, why it's maybe a bad sign that the nurses at my doctor's office know me by my first name. ;-) Which got me to thinking---how do they know me? Out of all the patients they must see, why do they remember me? Is it my hypenated name (either name is unusual, both names together are beyond unique)? Is it my daughter (hey, she's fairly memorable :))? Or is it just me? I know I always remember people because they either drive me bonkers or because they were uncommonly nice. I hope it was the latter and not the former that caused the nurses to remember me. :)

In other news, I'm feeling better, which comes along with not having a tube sticking out of my back. :) And life is slowly getting back to normal, especially since our computer is also back up and running.

Life is good. :)

Dear Doc (a letter from a disaffected patient)

Dear Doc,

I'm writing this letter here because I don't want to blow up at you on Thursday.

Last Wednesday, I went into the hospital to have the Rolling Stones evicted from my left kidney. This was after three failed lithotripsy attempts and one uteroscopy where the stone in my right kidney passed before you got to it. You told me surgery was the best bet for removing my large pointy stones and I agreed. You're the doctor, I'm the patient and I trusted you to do right by my health.

What followed was a week in my life that I have absolutely no intent of repeating---ever. I awoke from one procedure in such excruciating pain that there were concerns I was bleeding internally. Did you, did anyone, call my husband? No. He found out that bit from me much later. And when I came out of the second procedure, you told me the stones were gone. I was relieved.

Turns out, I shouldn't have been. Two CAT-scans later, I found out there were some smaller stones left (less than one centimeter, I believe) but I didn't find that out from you. I found that out from a nurse---and awesome nurse, to be sure, but she wasn't my doctor. You were. Yet you didn't bother to tell me, your patient. You didn't call my husband when I developed pneumonia in the hospital. In fact, you didn't call at all. Your part in my care was done, and the rest, you could have cared less about. Nice going. Do they teach Basic Insensitivity 101 in medical school, or what?

Now I hear that you want to see me to discuss "further treatment options." My first reponse, to be honest, is "Bite me." You waltz in, you do a procedure, you're done. Every single procedure you've done on my kidney has meant a minimum of three days off work for me---and that's three days away from my family, feeling crappy, and it's time I'm not willing to waste while you figure out what you're going to do next.

So, just to make sure you understand. No surgery. Not ever again. I have a life, and if I'm very, very lucky, I'll live the rest of it without ever again being in the same OR with you.

Signed,

A Disaffected Patient

Kidney Surgery: T Minus 7 Days and Counting....

..yeah, I'm finally having surgery done on the stones in my left kidney next Wednesday. Soooo, here's a little letter to "Keith" and "Mick" (and the rest of the band: gods know I've got enough there. :)

Dear Stones,

Wednesday, you're getting an eviction notice. You might laugh now, but those shockwaves you've felt over the past months? Yeah, that was me trying to get rid of you. And I know you don't want to go. You're pointy and large but you've been living in my kidney for years now, and that's years too long.

I want my body back. I want to exercise without having to worry if I'm going to displace one of you. I want to get a backache without worrying if this is the start of you trying to pass through my body. I want to plan a vacation without having to worry about saving enough time "just in case" I have to have another kidney procedure. I don't want to stress or worry or just plain be afraid of your silent presence in my body.

In short, you'll be going soon. And I won't miss you. Stones, be gone.

Smooches,

Your (soon to be former) landlord. :)

Random musings...

...in no particular order.

1) Why is it that you can have the worst day in the world, but your baby's smile makes you all warm inside?

2) Why is it that houses invariably look messier right before all the cleaning is done? (Seriously. DH and I have gotten rid of a metric ton of stuff, and the house is still in that messy stage between hazmat site and clean enough to eat off of. I guess having a 19 month old "helping" would tend to affect things....but still. :)

3) Why is it that saying "No, I can't do that" is sometimes seen as rude?

4) Why is it that one 25 pound, nearly three foot, 19 month old has more clothes than both her mom and dad put together?

5) Why is it that a lack of planning and/or communication invariably becomes someone else's problem? (These days, usually my problem. :-P)

And finally,

6) After a day where I found out that I have to have yet more pre-op testing (on top of the pre-op testing I already had) which pretty much means my doctor's appointment on Friday was a waste of both time and money because I didn't really get all the testing done in the first place...

...why is it that venting all of this here makes me feel better? :)

Sunday iPod Seven

Hi all,

I'm trying something new, seeing as I've hit a lull in posting :). Each Sunday, I'm going to hit shuffle on my iPod and see which seven songs come up.

So...here's the list. Enjoy!

"Dulaman" by Altan
"Spanish Lady" by Gaelic Storm
"Before the Twilight Falls" by Emerald Rose
"Auld Lang Syne" by Dougie Maclean
"Edward" by Old Blind Dogs
"The Rattling Bog" by Blackthorn
"Our Country" by John Melloncamp

Enjoy! :)

RIP, Tim Russert

When I heard you died, I was shocked. Not shocked in a distant way, but shocked because you were so young and you loved your life so much. I didn't watch you faithfully on TV (there's only so much politics even I can take) but when I did see you, you were an unfailing class act. Even when you knew someone was lying, you didn't start screaming or calling names. You let their own words hang them.

And you asked the questions that made me think and take notice. This is our country, you seemed to say, and you challenged those who watched you to be citizens, to watch and take notice instead of mindlessly following the Political Leader De Jour.

So, I'll leave the rest of the tributes to those who truly knew you. I just wanted to say thanks.

RIP.

Father's Day and Pompeii

Yesterday, my mom and dad met Rob and I at our local park to go see a museum exhibit on the last days of Pompeii. It was fantastic---a beautiful day in the park and a well-done, thoughtful exhibit inside the museum.

I think the part that stuck with me was how alike we are; even across the centuries, there really isn't that much that changes. People conduct business, parents raise children, the gods are worshipped (from Greece, Rome and elsewhere; the Romans were nothing if not largely accepting of other people's religions) and daily life goes on without really understanding how everything can change so quickly. And for them, it did; in the space of 24 hours, nearly all of the inhabitants of Pompeii were killed by a volcano which had been smoldering under their feet for centuries.

Which brings me to Father's Day. My dad is a very recent cancer survivor, and I know perfectly well that we're lucky he's alive here at all. And he is---pretty healthy too and getting on with his life. And I watched him play with his granddaughter and I thought that if everything changed tomorrow, at least he---and us---would have been able to have this.

How I Plan to Spend My Summer (Blog Roll post)

The most recent blog roll post asks what we are planning to do (or have done) this summer.

Here's my list:

1) See A Day in the Life of Pompeii exhibit at the Natural History Museum (done, as of yesterday. It was fantastic---I'll cover that in another blog post.)

2) Go to the county fair (hopefully, either next weekend or the weekend following)

and

3) Have surgery to remove several large and pointy kidney stones from my left kidney.

Yeah. I know. I'm a party animal. ;) But I have my surgery date (July 30) and it looks like the recovery from that will take up the remainder of my summer. So I'm glad we got to have at least some fun this summer.

Banned Book Meme

Okay, here's how it goes. This is a list of commonly banned books---that is, books that libraries have been requested to ban. (How Little House on the Prairie ended up there, I"ll never know....) The books I've read are bolded; the ones I've read part of are italicized. Everything else is what I have left to read.

Here's my list:

#1 The Bible
#2 Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
#3 Don Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes
#4 The Koran
#5 Arabian Nights
#6 Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain
#7 Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift
#8 Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer
#9 Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
#10 Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
#11 Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli
#12 Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
#13 Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
#14 Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
#15 Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
#16 Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
#17 Dracula by Bram Stoker
#18 Autobiography by Benjamin Franklin
#19 Tom Jones by Henry Fielding
#20 Essays by Michel de Montaigne
#21 Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
#22 History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon
#23 Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
#24 Origin of Species by Charles Darwin
#25 Ulysses by James Joyce
#26 Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio
#27 Animal Farm by George Orwell
#28 Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell
#29 Candide by Voltaire
#30 To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
#31 Analects by Confucius
#32 Dubliners by James Joyce
#33 Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
#34 Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
#35 Red and the Black by Stendhal
#36 Capital by Karl Marx
#37 Flowers of Evil by Charles Baudelaire
#38 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
#39 Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D. H. Lawrence
#40 Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
#41 Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser
#42 Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
#43 Jungle by Upton Sinclair
#44 All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
#45 Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx
#46 Lord of the Flies by William Golding
#47 Diary by Samuel Pepys
#48 Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
#49 Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
#50 Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
#51 Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
#52 Critique of Pure Reason by Immanuel Kant
#53 One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey
#54 Praise of Folly by Desiderius Erasmus
#55 Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
#56 Autobiography of Malcolm X by Malcolm X
#57 Color Purple by Alice Walker
#58 Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
#59 Essay Concerning Human Understanding by John Locke
#60 Bluest Eyes by Toni Morrison
#61 Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe
#62 One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
#63 East of Eden by John Steinbeck
#64 Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
#65 I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
#66 Confessions by Jean Jacques Rousseau
#67 Gargantua and Pantagruel by François Rabelais
#68 Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes
#69 The Talmud
#70 Social Contract by Jean Jacques Rousseau
#71 Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
#72 Women in Love by D. H. Lawrence
#73 American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
#74 Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler
#75 A Separate Peace by John Knowles
#76 Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
#77 Red Pony by John Steinbeck
#78 Popol Vuh
#79 Affluent Society by John Kenneth Galbraith
#80 Satyricon by Petronius
#81 James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl
#82 Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
#83 Black Boy by Richard Wright
#84 Spirit of the Laws by Charles de Secondat Baron de Montesquieu
#85 Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut
#86 Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George
#87 Metaphysics by Aristotle
#88 Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder
#89 Institutes of the Christian Religion by Jean Calvin
#90 Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse
#91 Power and the Glory by Graham Greene
#92 Sanctuary by William Faulkner
#93 As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
#94 Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin
#95 Sylvester and the Magic Pebble by William Steig
#96 Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
#97 General Introduction to Psychoanalysis by Sigmund Freud
#98 Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
#99 Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Alexander Brown
#100 Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
#101 Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman by Ernest J. Gaines
#102 Émile by Jean Jacques Rousseau
#103 Nana by Émile Zola
#104 Chocolate War by Robert Cormier
#105 Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin
#106 Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
#107 Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein
#108 Day No Pigs Would Die by Robert Peck
#109 Ox-Bow Incident by Walter Van Tilburg Clark
#110 Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes

To All The Books I've Loved Before (Blog Roll post)

The latest prompt was deceptively simple: name the book that changed your life.

My first response was an outraged mental squeal: "ONE? Just ONE? Are you kidding?" :O)

As you might be able to tell, I'm a follower of Erasmus, who said something to the effect that when he had a little money, he bought books, then food. So in consequence, we have a LOT of books (and that's not counting the ones for my husband's business...)

In the interests of keeping the list (sort of) short, here are my three choices:

1) The Wounded Sky, by Diane Duane. This is a Classic Star Trek novel, but aside from a fantastic plot and writing that makes science understandable to the novice, it has a special place in my heart for one other reason. In the library in the small town where I lived years ago, there was the Adult Section and there was the Kids Section. To my eyes at seven or nine or twelve, the adult section had all the cool books, the thick books with hard covers and lots of pages. The librarians were careful to keep the kids out of the adult section---and that included the ones who should have been reading more advanced books (like me.) (Looking back, I understand why---there were a lot of, ahem, more romantic titles in the adult section and I'm sure they didn't want to hear from Jane's daddy where his daughter had learned those terms. ;-))

Anyway, I snuck in there one day and found The Wounded Sky. And I fell head over heels in love with it---not because I understood all of the astronomy that makes up most of the science in the plot (in fact, I still don't, though years later, I was amused to find out that the author had wanted to be an astrophysicist, but discovered she didn't have a grasp on the math either) but because it didn't talk down to me.

And in the days before kiddie lit made money (thank you, JK Rowling :)) a lot of children's books assumed that kids were, well, stupid. This book didn't and I loved it. And it opened doors for me---I started reading other Star Trek books, then other sci-fi novels and then other works of fiction. And I'm still doing it. So, thanks, Diane Duane.

2) Madame Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert. This book sticks out in my memory because it's the one book I've ever read in which there is intentionally not a single likable character...which, if you think about it, is a pretty ballsy thing for a writer to do. I won't say I enjoyed reading it, but it definitely made me think about how hard it must have been to write book like that.

And finally...(so many books, so little time...)

3) Cry, the Beloved Country (sorry, I can't remember right now who wrote this.) I loved it because it was poem masquerading as a story about guilt and honor and redemption and the terrible choices people make in harsh times, even when that means facing dishonor inside one's own family. Long after I finished reading it for my high school AP class, this single line stuck with me: "Cry, the beloved country, for the beloved child who is the inheritor of our fears."

And that about says it all; we pass both good and bad down to our children, our fears and our hopes. The line made me cry a little at 18 for the sheer hopelessness of the line and the situation in which the characters lived, but it rings true even now at 34.

So that's my list. Check the books out if you like; all of them are still in print (except, possibly, for The Wounded Sky, but I'm sure you can find it on Amazon if that's to your liking.) Enjoy. :)

Musings on Things Pagan

On another blog I read, a contributor posted a query about the real stories that make up the pagan religious experience. I'm paraphrasing here, but in essence, she didn't want the stories about ceremonies or covens, but the individual relationships and experiences that make up the religious experience---the first ritual someone led, or the first time someone emerged from the sweat lodge.

So, here's mine. And it's not about a ceremony or a coven (I'm a solitary thus far) or anything magical...well, except to me. :)

Those who know me know I had a difficult pregnancy with wee one. It was fine until about 22 weeks, then everything went awry and putting it all in a nutshell, we consider ourselves lucky that she's here at all. But I had a scare at 21 weeks that I think (looking back) was a warning of what was to come. I had to make a run to the hospital L&D because of some symptoms which could have been very serious, or not.

So I get there and I get a very perfunctory exam from the harried doctor on duty (not my regular OB) who basically patted me on my head and dismissed me like the over-wrought first time mom he assumed I was. As I was walking back to my car, I kept worrying, though---I just couldn't make anyone understand my gut feeling that something was not right, and if the doctor wouldn't believe me, who would?

And I prayed. I'm not a big prayer person and I wasn't sure then if anyone was listening, but I prayed. I prayed that my daughter would survive, I prayed that my gut feeling was just a worried first time mom's imagination gone wild and I prayed for some calm and some wisdom to deal with all of the above.

And Someone heard. I can't describe it any other way. But I heard a female voice tell me that my daughter would be okay, and I felt enfolded in a mother's arms. And then I knew: this was Her. And I knew then that I couldn't turn away.

Oh, I fought it for a few more months---I had other things on my mind (like the remaining ten weeks of my pregnancy and the first five weeks of my daughter's life in the NICU.) But when life calmed down somewhat, I sought Her again. I'm still seeking. And I don't think I'll ever stop. It's a path without an endpoint in sight.

Favorite scents (Blog Roll Post)

My favorite scent isn't one, it's more like two or three or four all together. Early spring to me always smells like the Renaissance Faire: dew on grass, Nag Champa incense on the air (and some other smells too---those of you who have been at a Faire just before it opens know which smell I'm talking about, particularly since the incense was supposed to cover it up ;O) and the smell of hay and dirt.

I don't know if my description is anywhere close to the reality, but for almost 12 years of my life, that was the smell of spring, of the earth coming alive again, and when I smell it by chance again, it always takes me back. :)

Pity Party, Table for One

Well, yesterday was my birthday. That's not so much of a problem; I don't feel any worse for being 34 than I did for being 33. But the weekend...yeah, now that was a problem. So please pardon me while I have some cheese with my whine. :)

First, there was The War. No, not the war in Iraq, but the SCA War in Potrero. We'd planned to go to it, but there was rain and cold weather and none of those things seemed a good idea with a toddler. So, we didn't go. That was fine. Disappointing, but fine.

What wasn't fine, though, was that my daughter suddenly realized she was thisclose to being two (well, sort of; she has a few months yet, but she's been early on everything else, why not this?) and decided that Saturday night was a good time to have a screaming fit for oh, about two or three hours.

And even that would have been fine (annoying, sure, but also part of the age and the stage) except that we were supposed to go up to see my parents for my birthday. (And yes, if you've noticed the irony of us traveling two hours north for my birthday instead of the other way around, you're not alone. We went up mainly because my grandfather hadn't seen the wee one for a few months, and given that the man is pushing 90, we figured we'd at least make the trip.) So I called my dad and advised him that the wee one was now officially a toddler, and therefore might be prone to fits of screaming for no reason at any and all hours of the day and offered to just come up for the day instead of staying overnight. Dad didn't mind if we stayed overnight but...

...perhaps he should have checked with Mom. Mom, it seems, was not in a happy place this weekend---for a variety of reasons, most of which have some validity, and almost all of which deal with the fact that she feels she's been stuck with the majority of the care of my grandfather. This argument continued, with much vehement whispering between mom and dad, the entire weekend.

And if you're wondering why we came up, so did we. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, the wee one wasn't having a great time and neither were we. (Being stuck in the role of unwilling marriage counselor will do that to a person. :-(

And just when we thought things couldn't get worse, they did. The wee one had another tantrum which wound down after about three hours (but at least she slept through the night...whew.) And for the most part, mom and dad seemed to accept it for what it was---the crankiness of a toddler who is just convinced that she's missing out on something and who doesn't want to go to sleep in case she does. ;-)

After much more "fun" along those lines, we left on Monday evening. And then the weekend hit rock-bottom--the wee one got sick (twice) in the car. We're still not sure what it was--bad food? change in diet? allergy? reflux?--but she seems to be on the mend now. And we did eventually make it home...though I personally felt like kissing the ground when we did. :)

So, to recap: this weekend, we had a rainy SCA war, parents with their (latest) marital crisis, a sick toddler and oh yeah, it was my birthday too. :) Personally, I think I should have stood in bed. :)

What I Want to Do Before I Die (Blog Roll Post)

Well, here's the list (in no particular order):

1) See my child(ren) become self-sufficient productive happy adult(s).

2) See Stonehenge at Midsummer Solstice

3) See the Newgrange Spiral at Winter Solstice

4) Buy a house

5) Pay off my student loan

6) Dance at my 50th wedding anniversary

7) Lay some flowers at Catherine of Aragon's grave

8) See Pompeii

9) See the terracotta soldiers in China

And finally,

I want to leave this earth knowing I've done my best to make my part of it a little happier. :)

Teach Us To Sit Still

It's funny what bits of poetry will bring to mind. I stumbled on a poem by T.S. Eliot the other day, and it just sort of hit me that maybe I needed to hear it today.

--//--
Blessed sister, holy mother,
spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks.
Our peace in his will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother,
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea.
Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto Thee.

t. s. eliot

--//--

I'm not real great at poetry analysis, but I think this is about the necessity of living Now, not Tomorrow or Yesterday. And if so, I needed to hear it. I got angry with my daughter last night and she didn't deserve it.

I'm not perfect mom. I don't try to be, generally---perfect moms are, IMHO, pretty hard to put up with. I do my best and try to do right by my daughter, but perfection was never part of the plan. Last night, though...I was in pain (did something wonky with my left shoulder) and trying to contend with a fussy, stubborn toddler who refused to go to sleep hour after hour after hour. Rob would come out, settle her down, and just as I was drifting off to sleep, she'd wake up again. And this went on for oh, four or five hours last night. And just to cap everything off, today was a Friday...which meant I had to be at work. On four hours sleep and caffeine....yeah, I should have just gotten the IV and had at it. :-)

So I've been obsessing---what could I have done, instead of getting angry with her? And then I realized---maybe I could have done something different, or not, but that doesn't matter. I can only contend with today. And today, that fussy, stubborn toddler has a cold but is otherwise okay. And she trusts me to do right by her. So, today, I've sat still and tried to be worthy of that.

Just Call Me a Pincushion

Well, I have an ongoing story in my continuing battle with kidney stones. My last lithotripsy procedure didn't do much to reduce the size of the stones, so...yeah, it's surgery for me. Not the old-fashioned type where they cut you open, but some sort of laproscopic procedure that, while it sounds positively medieval, should have me healed and on my feet in less time than the older surgery would.

And I'm dreading it. I'm not so much worried about the recovery---once I get past the issue of whether I have enough time on the books to do the surgery and recover from it, I know I can get through it. It's just the disruption in our version of normal that I loathe. I hate being incapacitated and/or the prospect of having to rely on someone else. I hate that I won't be able to do a lot of my standard "mom" stuff while I'm healing from this, and that all of the parenting, cooking, cleaning, errand-running, assorted life stuff, is going to fall on Rob for 2, maybe 3, weeks.

And yes, I know I don't really have a choice---given the prospect of one of the stones trying to pass (ouch) or surgery, I'll take it any day. I just wish I didn't have to.

The Beltaine Bonfire That Wasn't...

...or, Why The Deities Love it When You Make Plans. :-)

Yeah, we missed the bonfire. We were all set to go---we were going to hit the store to get some sandwiches for our dinner, we had the beach chairs all washed off (they live outside most of the year) and the wee one was dressed in warm layers. Freya was all gassed up and ready to roll and then...

I had lunch at Chain Restaurant. And it really, really, really didn't agree with me. So, yeah, we didn't make it. :-(

A friend of mine laughs (not cruelly, mind) at the plans we make and then don't complete. But if there is a Grand Lesson to all of this (aside from Don't Eat At Chain Restaurant If You Plan on Attending A Beltaine Bonfire) it's this: sometimes, life just happens. And you have to roll with it when it does.

So in the spirit of Rolling With It, I'm planning to attend the pagan get together at our local UU church on Friday. And we'll see what develops from there. :)

Going to our first Beltaine bonfire :)

A little bit of background here:

Beltaine is the pagan holiday welcoming Spring, usually with bonfires and dancing around the maypole (a phallic symbol if ever I saw one :))---various cultures around the world still celebrate Beltaine as May Day, and though the religious significance of the day may have been forgotten, the sentiment itself hasn't been.

Anyhoo, our local Unitarian church has a Earth-centered spirituality group that's having a Beltaine bonfire Saturday night. And we're going to go. Yay, us. :)

Ever since I started studying things pagan years ago, Beltaine and Samhain (Halloween) have been running in close competition for my favorite holidays. Spring and Fall are my two favorite seasons, and Beltaine and Samhain mark those most strongly, at least in my mind.

So we're going to see the bonfire. And maybe, dance at the maypole the next morning. And maybe, just maybe, meet and get involved in a faith community that shares our values too. Who knows?

Five years ago yesterday...

....I was 28 and I had just gotten married. And after five years of wildfires (2,) bouts of serious illness (2,) open heart surgery (1,) cardiac stents (3,) miscarriage (1,) a high-risk pregnancy (1) and a beautiful baby girl (just one of those...so far) I have to say there's no one on this earth I'd rather struggle with. I won't say that we don't have some godawful fights (fortunately, I can think of about two of those in five years) or that we always agree. But we do love each other and we try to have respect for each other even when we don't agree.

So, to my husband, my partner and my love, happy anniversary. Here's to many, many years left.

Can you hear me now? :)

The other night, I was talking to my mom. Simple, right? Except that I know she wasn't paying attention to a darned thing I was saying. I had a question to ask her and I had to say, "I have a question to ask you" four or five times before she finally started talking to me again...and by then, I pretty much gave up.

She's not the only one who does this. I've talked to people who are more interested in what's on TV than in actually carrying on a conversation. But it bugs me the worst when she does it. A lot of our conversations have gone that way lately and it makes me wonder if she realizes just how rude it is to completely ignore one half of a two-person conversation.

So the next time I talk to her (which will be on her nickel, not mine) I think I'll tell her I've been kidnapped by space aliens and am pregnant with triplets. Just to see if she's paying attention. ;-)

Greeting Card Woes

Well, next Wednesday is our five year wedding anniversary, so off I went to Chez Target to find an anniversary card for Himself.

Now, that was depressing. Anyone ever notice exactly what's available for anniversary cards for husbands? They (and I'm speaking of the allegedly funny ones here) seem to be along a few common themes: the guy who hogs the remote, doesn't ask for directions, farts all the time, doesn't have the first clue what to do with the kids, and doesn't cook. Where are the cards for good husbands who ask for directions, cook and take care of their kids and partners because they're, you know, real men?

As you can tell, I nearly struck out, though I did eventually find a sentimental card that just about said it right. I just don't get it. If an anniversary (or any) card was marketed to men about how their wives can't drive, get PMS or are bitchy all the time, can't manage money and belong in the home, there'd be an outcry. But because it's somehow okay to make fun of husbands (or at least, label them one step above bumbling baboons) these cards are sold and no one makes a peep.

I just don't get it.

Living Proof the Deities Have a Sense of Humor

***WARNING: Serious religious irreverence follows***

Throughout recorded history, various religions have stories of believers asked to do impossible or painful things. Abraham was asked to sacrifice Isaac (or Ishmael, depending on who you ask) to prove his devotion to his god. Moses was asked to go back into Egypt to rescue the Israelites. Lot's wife was asked never to look back upon Sodom and Gomorrah. And that's just in the Old Testament...I'm not even going to go into the New Testament. And so we don't leave the Egyptians out, Isis had to go get all the pieces of Osiris' body after Seth dismembered him and threw him into the Nile. So, yeah, impossible doesn't begin to cover it.

But never did they get asked to do task like this.

Cleaning the bathroom. [insert dramatic music here :)]

Let me back this up. Anyone who knows us, knows we're not exactly great housekeepers. No, we're not dangerous---we don't leave chicken out for days in the heat and then try to cook it, we wash our hands before and after handling meat. But on the scale of Interesting Things We Choose to Do, cleaning the bathroom (or the kitchen) beyond just a very superficial, make-sure-we-don't-get-food-poisoning level, isn't on the list. Ever. And it takes...well, keep reading for what it takes to make us clean the bathroom.

Today, I got a very clear message from Someone that I needed to clean. No, no burning bushes or neon signs, just a feeling that Now Would Be a Good Day. So I did. I did half the dishes (half, because our drainer is small,) scrubbed the bathroom floor and banished the mold from the grout. Rob declogged the tub and the sink (for which he should get a medal...ugh.) And I almost drowned a spider of the non-lethal variety, but I apologized and Mr (Ms?) Spider seemed okay in the end.

So I've been thinking: why today? Why now? It's 90 degrees outside and not exactly fun weather for cleaning (or doing anything.) The best explanation I can come up with is this: it's spring, and when Someone says it's time, you listen.

And no, I'm not pretending that I was "meant to" do this, in the sense of heroic sacrifice or heeding a warning---I'm occasionally insane, but I'm not that bad. But I think I was pushed towards a recognition that everything has to change--whether it's my/our abysmal housekeeping, or just the way things have always been--and if cleaning the bathroom is the start of it, the best I can do is just hang on and go with the ride.

When I Become Queen of the Universe (Blog Roll post)

When I become Queen of the Universe (in no particular order)...

1) Wars will be fought with the parties' choice of the following weapons: pillows, apple pies, cards (game of poker, anyone?) or board games.

2) Maternity leave will actually reflect the actual time it takes to physically, mentally, and emotionally recover from childbirth, learn how to feed and take care of a brand new life, and regain some sanity in the process. And fathers will get the same amount of leave as mothers.

3) Every building will have a room for breastfeeding mothers. This business about pumping in the bathroom? Not happening. If we really think "breast is best," then it's time to make it easier for all mothers to do it---not just the ones who have their own offices or who stay at home.

4) Road rage will be banned. So will tail-gaiting. And light-flashing and...and...well, I drive in SoCal, what more do I have to say?

5) Rude people will have to attend charm school---Miss Manners, or the Ehell Dame, will be running it. ;-)

6) Abusers---of women, children, or animals---will get a lot worse than a slap on the wrist. I don't have Zeus' power of lightening bolts, but I'm sure I can think of something....

7) People suffering from infertility will have full medical coverage, just like any other illness or disorder.

8) Blocking aisles, carrying on a long conversation while doing so, talking loudly on your cellphone while driving or doing any other activity (do we REALLY need to know about what you're having for dinner?) is cause for immediate shunning and sentencing to the Island of the Clueless.

9) Oh, and pedestrians? The light means you can go. It does not mean, "Walk slower than a snail's crawl and glare at the cars you're holding up."

10) Conversely, if pedestrians have the light, give them the right of way. Failure to do so will sentence you to five days of writing "I will not be a clueless boor" on the charm school blackboard. (See #5)

8) Those who fail to MYOB and/or recognize appropriate social boundaries, will be sentenced to four years to life on the Island of the Clueless.

Thus Saith the Queene. :)

Things That Annoy Me Greatly (parte the second)

And no, I'm not unusually irritable today. ;)

1) People who wear too much perfume. Look, one short dose in the morning is enough. For the love of...whoever...please don't put it on again at work. (This means you, oh cow-irker who doesn't seem to understand that no, not everyone needs to smell you coming three nautical miles away.)

a) Also a part of this, people who wave perfume samples in your face at the mall. See #1. If you want me to buy perfume, how about not giving me a headache as part of your sales pitch?

2) Kiosk workers. I know you have to earn a living, and sometimes the need to make money makes you work in jobs you wouldn't consider, but that one? Oh, yes, I'm sure your overpriced cellphone/sea salt mix/makeup is worth buying, but you see, I'm just not interested. And no amount of cajoling/catcalling is going to make me interested. So stop. Please.

3) Snaps on baby sleepers. I'm convinced that whoever did this didn't have children. Trying to match snaps on a wriggling baby at 3am who really wants to go crawling without her diaper on is just not my idea of fun.

4) Non-standard sizes. Depending on who makes the clothes, I'm either a US size 16, 18, 20, or 22. The wee one is either into 9 month, 12 month or, in some cases, 18 months sizes. Rob is either a 36 or a 38 long. Can't we all get our measurements to agree? Or failing that, how about posting at least the inseam measurement on pants?

And finally (for now)...

5) Car sales tactics (from my latest experience.) Look, I have an internet connection. I asked for an emailed quote. That does NOT mean I want you and your legions of employees calling me repeatedly to get me into the dealership. Nope, sorry, nothing doing---if there's no quote, I'm not setting foot in your dealership. Oh, and you better believe I know what the invoice on my car is---so don't tell me that no dealership will match it just because you won't. Guess what? One did, and you just lost a sale.

And now that I've bought the car...

I love my car. Really. But I don't have an eternity to fill out online surveys or answer customer service calls about how my buying experience was. I bought the car and I filled out one survey. That's all you're getting from me, so stop sending me requests and please, for the love of whoever, stop calling. kthxbai

Things I Just Don't Get

On another short detour here, just down the road from Things That Annoy Me Greatly (they run parallel to each other, don't ya know?)

1) Trolls. Not the kind that live under the bridge and taunt the three billy goats gruff, and not the kind you see in Lord of the Rings. I'm talking about the ones that go on to internet forums and deliberately cause havoc by posting false stories or attacking other posters.

This makes no sense to me, probably because I'm not an attention whore. But really, if you have nothing else to do with your time than to invent soap-opera stories of woe and distress, shouldn't you find another hobby...like, I don't know, knitting? And people who post just to antagonize members of a forum? Puhhh-leaaase. If you don't like the kitchen, there's nothing saying you have to eat the food. So just go on your merry way and find some goats to pick on.

2) People who tailgate. Look, I know your time is just soooo much more important than mine (and everyone else's, come to that) but hanging out on my rear bumper is not going to intimidate me into going faster. It will make me change lanes, because I don't want to be part of the accident you will cause, but I have news for you: your brakes are not that good. If I have to stop, you'll be in my trunk, and assuming the accident doesn't hurt you, your insurance company will.

3) Competitive parents: those of you who have kids know the type. You know, the ones who loudly announce that they breastfed until their kids were in high school, always used cloth diapers, never fed them anything but organic food and wouldn't think of letting their kids not sleep with them. And their kids---at the age of a few years old---are rapidly discovering the cure for cancer and/or have gotten early admission to Harvard. Or they stay at home and look down their noses at women who work. Or they work and tell the stay-at-homes that they're wasting their lives. And so on, until there's a lot of hurt feelings on both sides.

In short, their whole purpose seems to be to shout "I am a better parent than youuuuuu!!!!" And they do it often enough that they make other parents feel incompetent.

Well, I also have news for you: you're not. You're just different. And so are the ultra-crunchy-granola moms. And the ones who stay at home, and the ones who go to work. The one thing that should unite us as moms is that we have kids and we love them and want the best for them. So, all you moms who love sitting in judgment on all the other moms---can it. Motherhood is hard enough without adding your garbage to the mix.

4) Nosy reporters. I'm not talking about the garden variety reporters, but the ones who go up to a grieving family and ask that most inane of all questions: "So, how do you feel?" Really? You have to ask?

That's my list for today. I'm sure there will be others when I think of them. :)

The Night of Screaming Mimi

These are the times that try men's souls...

Well....

Not really. But as a parent, they can really try your patience. The wee one kept waking up last night, and (yawn) I'm tired. Rob's tired. And the wee one is sleeping. Irony, much?

I don't know why she kept waking up. She was fed, changed, dressed warmly (we're having another one of our infamous "if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes" weeks....last week, it was warm enough to put her in just a onesie. Oy.) The only thing we can think of is that she had some gas pains, but whatever it was, it sure made her (and us) uncomfortable.

And then there's the cat. The cat is, oh, 15 years old or so now, and because I had him long before both husband and baby, I have a fondness for his quirks. But not his loud meowing after we just got the wee one to sleep.

Oh, well. With any luck, she'll sleep until after I leave, at which point Rob should be more awake. Me, I'm thinking of caffeine by IV right now. ;-)

Phobias (Blog Roll post)

This is the latest post on the blog roll. The assignment this week is to talk about phobias, so...

--//--

Phobias. I got 'em in spades. (No, I'm not that neurotic, I just have a healthy respect for things and situations that give me the creeps. ;-)

So here's the short list, in no particular order:

1) Spiders. I've gotten over this one as I've gotten older, for the most part, but I loathe black widows.

2) Large crowds.

3) Bodies of water--lakes, pools, you name it. I can't swim (I had a near-drowning accident when I was ten) so any large body of water makes me very nervous. That goes double when Roisin's around.

4) Closed in spaces. I got stuck in an elevator that got stuck between the floors and it was four or five of the longest minutes of my life.

5) Needles. I don't care if you have to give me an IV or draw my blood, but I'm not going to watch you do it (and don't insist, unless you want me to go horizontal.)

That's mine, for now. If I think of others, I'll add them. :-)

Parenting Minefield Dead Ahead....

There has been much comment on the Ehell (aka Etiquette Hell) forum about parents who take their children to "inappropriate" restaurants---that is, parents who take their kids to bars (in the US, definitely a no-no,) or sushi restaurants or restaurants that are obviously for adults in the mood for a little romance and who then let their little darlings (this is sarcasm) disrupt the entire evening.

Last night, we were almost one of "those" parents. :-O Except everything worked out okay. Rob's cousin and her husband were in town this week; they'd come into town for a business meeting and they invited us all to a fancy (well, to my mind---I don't eat at too many places that have more than one fork) restaurant in Balboa Park. Rob and I had agreed that if the wee one decided to start acting up, one of us would take her out so none of the other diners would be disturbed. And we were nervous---this isn't a place we would normally take our child, for the simple fact that a) she's 16 months old and b) fine restaurants and toddlers just normally don't mix.

It turned out fine. She was a good little toddler---drank her milk, had some hummus and some potatoes and chicken from our plates, and generally exuded excessive cuteness. She got a little fussy towards the end but it was really close to her bedtime, so we all just called it a night.

Whew. Another parenting minefield crossed. I'm not sure we'll go back there any time soon, particularly as she gets closer to the dreaded twos, but it's nice to know that we survived it.

What I Like About Me :)

This is the latest challenge from the Blog Tour. We were asked to write about what we like about ourselves, so...here goes (in no particular order.)

1) I like that I have boobs. I mean, when Monty Python joked about "huge tracts of land," they might have been talking about "the ladies." :)

2) My sense of humor hangs around, even when things are at their worst.

3) I have a head full of useless trivia and I don't forget anything (well, except where my keys are just now. :)

4) I don't have a lot of friends, but the ones I have, I've had for years. And they're not all the same "type" of people.

5) I'm honest...not rude about it, but honest. And I don't suffer fools gladly.

6) I can write intelligently. :)

7) I like my eyes (dark brown) and my nose (small.)

8) I speak sarcasm as a second language.

9) After all the hard work in becoming a mom, I have to say I like it.

10) I love my husband. And I love that he loves me for me.

The Death of Common Sense?

Okay, a small detour into Things That Annoy Me Greatly.

In yesterday's New York Times, there was an article about a measles outbreak in San Diego earlier this year. Nine of the twelve kids hadn't been vaccinated because their parents didn't believe in it.

Excuse me?

I did a double-take when I read this. Illnesses killed many, many children in the days before vaccines and now that we have vaccines, some parents are choosing to...what? Put their kids and everyone else's at risk? Because...why? Some internet-based fad that says vaccines are responsible for everything from autism to zebra stripes (okay, that last was hyperbole.)

I'm not one of "those" parents who normally goes around pushing my way of doing things on people. Breastfeed or don't, just feed your kid. Co-sleep, or don't---just make sure your kid gets sleep. Cloth diaper or disposable diaper, doesn't matter, just so long as they wear something. :) And so on. But in my mind, vaccines aren't negotiable. And I honestly can't imagine the mentality of a parent that can believe that much in herd immunity, or who is willing to risk the health of their kid and everyone else's kid for some internet fad based on poor science and worse research.

But all of this brings me to my original statement. I wonder if parents who don't vaccinate really comprehend what they're risking. Roisin spent her first five weeks in the NICU, wired to machines and alarms and tubes that kept her alive. Having seen that, there is nothing on this earth that would make us risk seeing her in another ICU, and so, we do all we can to make sure she doesn't end up there.

Common sense can't be dead in America. Can it?

Weirdest Vacation Evah :)

On another board, a bunch of fellow bloggers are writing about their weirdest vacations.

So, here's mine:

When I was ten, my dad, mom and I went to the Jack Daniels Distillery in Lynchburg, TN. Not the first place you'd think of as, oh, family-friendly, but you know, it was pretty cool. The people were very nice and I wasn't the only kid there. It was just weird because at the time, neither my mom or I drank. (Well, obviously I didn't---I was ten.) What I do remember, though, was this ginormous iron safe in the office. Seems ol'Jack had himself a bit of a temper and kicked it hard one day. Broke his toe and died of gangrene not too long afterwards. Ouch. :-O

On that same trip, we went to Twitty City. Conway Twitty (the country western singer) had set this place up as, I suspect, a giant tax writeoff. It was a park built along the theme of "How Great I Am." You could see a replica of Twitty's house, the obligatory gift shop, and lots and lots of ephemera about the guy's life. Except that I had no idea who he was (and being ten, being interested would have just been so uncool.) C'est la vie. :)

So, broken toes, iron safes and Twitty City. That's my weirdest vacation. :-)

It's Always Something...

I just got back from my follow-up appointment with my kidney doc. The good news is that the kidney stones in my left kidney are now two or three smaller fragments, instead of two large ones.
The bad news is that I still have kidney stones, and I now know I'm facing another two or three shockwave treatments before it's gone.

I can deal with that. I mean, I'm not happy at the prospect of more hours of post-op vomiting or what exotic complication I can come up with this time, but the stones need to be gone. The doc offered the option of surgery, but that involves an even more painful recovery and a few weeks (!!!) off work.

Um, no. I did the "few weeks off work" thing in 2006. The "few weeks" was the last nine weeks of my pregnancy, and I was glad to do it...but I just can't afford to do it now. So, more shockwave therapy for me. Yippee :0)

This guy gets it

In writing this blog, I've tried not to touch on anything too political or controversial (okay, coming out of the broom closet as a witch-in-training isn't all that controversial to me, but others might not agree. ;-) mainly because I figure there's enough bloggers doing that stuff. I just wanted my little corner of the blogosphere to be a little more mellow.

But just for today, I'm swerving off that road for a very short detour. Yesterday, I read the transcript of Sen. Obama's speech about his pastor. And the thought that keeps coming to mind is, "This guy gets it." He does. He really gets the harm that racism does in this country, and what it's like to see that racism in friends and family we know and love. Whatever happens in this election, he will have my admiration for having the cojones to actually come out and stare the 900 pound gorilla in the face.

I don't know if he'll win the election, but the courage I saw in his words makes me think he wouldn't be a bad president. It takes a brave man to say, "He's my friend," even when that friend is a flaming arsehole at times...and especially when you think of how much more politically expedient it would have been for him to have completely cut ties with his pastor.

Integrity. In a politician, no less. Who'd have thunk? :)

Doctor, Doctor...parte the thirde :)

(And hopefully, the last.) I have antibiotics now. And I feel loads better---I was able to sleep last night without a fever and I finally feel like I might be over the worst of whatever this is. Maybe. I hope. :)

But whatever happens, I've decided that as soon as my kidney issue(s) are done with, I'm done with this doctor. Nothing against his actual practice of medicine---it certainly seems like he knows what he's doing medically. But his bedside manner...um, no. I don't have to have him as my primary care doctor (he's a specialist) so with any luck, our time together is almost over.

In other news, it's just Roisin and I tonight. Rob went off to do some guy stuff with some friends of his, which is fine. It leaves Roisin and I with some mom-daughter time and it gives Rob a break. So, no worries here.

If anyone's reading this, have a good night. :)

Doctor, doctor...parte the seconde :)

Doc called back yesterday. After listening to my symptoms, he's decided to call in a prescription for antibiotics. If that doesn't work, I have to go back for further tests.

Of course, the antibiotic prescription wasn't called in yesterday. So I have to rattle his cage this morning, because I really don't want to spend my weekend feeling like crap (again.) So there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Maybe. I hope.

Doctor, doctor...can't you see I'm burning, burning?

The saga continues.

I don't have a UTI. I went to the doc on Monday and had his lab run a test. Nope, that's not my problem. But since I'm still having fevers at night, it's anyone's guess as to what really is going on. This isn't exactly normal post-op stuff, even for my strange system. So I've got a call in to my Doc. Haven't heard anything yet, though with my luck, he didn't listen to his nurse and called me at work instead of at home like I asked (hey, I was home sick yesterday.)

I'm back to work today, regardless. I don't have a reason to stay home---I'm not running a fever this moment, and I feel okay (not great, but okay.) So here's hoping I feel great for the next ten hours or so.

We all come from the goddess

Well, I don't suppose this is really a shock to anyone who knows me (outside of work, where discussion on religion and politics is das verboten, particularly if you're not a conservative Christian Republican :)) but I've been researching and studying the pagan path for the last few months, and in sympathy with the pagan viewpoint for years longer.

What does this mean? Well, in addition to all my other hats---wife, mother, daughter, friend---I can soon add "witch" to the mix. And I'm comfortable with that. I don't cast spells (yet.) I don't know what I'm doing, still being new to things, and I suspect it'll be several more months before I feel comfortable casting. But I find great comfort in acknowledging the presence of a goddess as well as a god, in honoring the earth and nature as our mother. (Why else call her "Mother Nature," eh?)

So here's what I believe. We each have a duty to deal kindly and fairly with each other, to the extent that it's possible. (Some people are just hell-bent on being impossible, after all.) We each have a right to our own beliefs, or lack thereof. And we all receive back what we send, so be careful what you do or ask for, because karma is a bitch who loves to strike when you're not expecting it. And she'll always find a way to get you---if not now, then later. And if there is a hell, we create in in this life, by our own actions.

So that's me. Wife, mother, daughter, friend and witch in training. :)

Blessed be. ) O (

Bring Me Solo and a Cookie :)

This website makes me smile when I need it the most. Enjoy! :)

Why "How are you?" is a loaded question :)

On Wednesday, I had lithotripsy done on my left kidney to remove the 3cm boulder that has lodged itself there. Basically, it's a use of targeted sonar to break the stones up so the fragments pass easily. And if it was happening to anyone else but me, I'd probably find the whole thing fascinating.

But....

Well, as it turns out, I'm really not the best patient. I mean, I tried. Honest. I like nurses and doctors, generally. But I freaked out the OR staff when I went horizontal unexpectedly (they were going to give me an epidural so I wouldn't have my usual post-op vomit reaction to anesthetic.) One minute, the very nice anesthesiologist was feeling around in my spine and I was hugging my pillow and the next, I was lying on the gurney with five or six faces staring down at me looking concerned.

I don't know what set that off, to be honest---I've had two epidurals in my life (once while I was pregnant with Roisin and once during my labor with her) and I didn't have any where near the same reaction. So I feel obscurely guilty for being a difficult patient.

And oh, yeah, I had my usual post-op reaction to the anesthetic. But I can't blame the docs. They tried.

What's made my week even more fun is this: I've gotten an infection of some sort---fever, chills, you name it, I've probably had it in the last four days. So I'm going in to my doctor tomorrow to make sure this doesn't become something more serious.

I've probably lost five pounds since Wednesday. As a diet method, I don't recommend it. :)

The rest of my family is hanging in...mostly. Roisin is teething and has not been her usual (mostly) angelic self the last couple of days (though she was fine last night.) Rob's been looking distinctly frazzled---not that I particularly blame him there. It's tough running a house and looking after a toddler by yourself and I certainly wasn't able to be any help.

So, here's hoping that things clear up. Being sick sucks.

On preemies :)

Anyone whose been reading this blog probably knows that Roisin was a preemie---born ten weeks early due to incompetent cervix, premature rupture of membranes and frankly, luck. See, she was lucky to make it that far, because she tried to come out at 22weeks...and it was only due to the quick eye of an ultrasound tech that I realized I had started dilating. I've since lost count of the number of doctors, specialists and nurses who kept me pregnant (and my daughter alive) but I'll never forget them.

What brings this up is an article (which I'm not going to link to, because it's foul, IMVHO) about how preemies, particularly those called "micropreemies" should be left to die because they'll allegedly never contribute to society. Which is an interesting turn of logic, that being disabled makes you somehow defective in society's eyes. Because all full-term babies grow into wonderful people, right? GMAFB.

Roisin was one of the lucky ones. She came out of the NICU with no disabilities, just tinier than usual. Who knows what kind of person she'll grow into...but I can bet it'll have nothing at all to do with how or when she was born.

This is why I'm not an engineer....

Well, the car crisis of 2008 (hopefully, the very, very last one for years) has been solved. Yesterday, Dad and I went out and I bought a CR-V for us. (This is me doing the happy dance :O))) And the car runs great---clearly, an awful lot of thought went into making this car fun, safe, and family friendly. And it's not (gods be praised) a minivan. So, life is good.

But... (Yes, you knew there had to be one)

...I seem to have flunked Carseat Installation 101. See, Roisin has now officially outgrown her "infant" car seat (she's all of 14 months old, but she's got her dad's height.) So I went and got her a blindingly expensive (but ultra-safe) car seat that's supposed to be easy to install.

Riiiiggght. Iif you can do calculus in Sanskrit, only then would this be considered "easy." Because after an hour of fussing with the thing, I still don't think it's in there right. The good news: I know what I did wrong (I think I do, anyway.) The bad news? I still have to fix it.

At least I have the car tomorrow. :)

(And if you're wondering why Rob didn't install it---he did the last car seat. I figured I could do this one. ;-))

So, may all your tether lines be untangled and your LATCH attachments be easy to find and access. :)

Cancer, Cars and ER Stays

Yes, that's been the month of February, so far.

My dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer in October of last year. After multiple trips through the circus hoops of getting treatment approved through his insurance company, he finally started treatment early this month. One treatment per day for 42 days. Good news is that his cancer is localized and that he'll most likely (please, gods, let it be so) recover fully and live a long, cancer-free life.

Cancer is such an ugly word---I keep thinking that it should only affect bad people, not people like my dad who has a granddaughter and a daughter and a wife and family who love him. But by those standards, it shouldn't affect anyone---who doesn't have people who love and depend on them? I just hope when it's over for my dad, it's really over.

And the drama continues....last Friday, the transmission on our family car died. Or the torque converter did. Or the stars didn't align just right. Whatever. Good news is that it didn't happen when Rob and Roisin were on the freeway. Bad news is that it happened at all. Rob's making arrangements to dispose of the minivan, so now we're on the car hunt. Dad agreed to help with the negotiations (he's a car salesman from way back when) and we're going to trade in my truck. The "fun" part has been getting quotes---I either get calls from salesmen when I asked specifically for emails or I get emailed quotes that are hovering around MSRP. Yep, that's going to happen. Not. I think we finally found a place that's willing to deal fairly with us, but it's just a matter of haggling now....

Oh, and Rob spent two days in the hospital this week for chest pains. It happens every so often and well, with his history we just don't take chances with that. So Roisin and I hung out for a couple of days. Things like this make me realize how lucky I am that I'm not a single parent---and how much I respect those who are. If you're reading this and you're a single parent, bless you.

So that's been my February. May March be much, much calmer. :-)

Hello and Goodbye...

Well, as of four days ago, we officially said goodbye to 2007. On the upside, the best that can be said about 2007 is that it wasn't 2006 (which will forever live in my memory as The Year Where I Stopped Asking, "What Next?" Yeah, a miscarriage, Rob's open heart surgery, my pregnancy with Roisin and her premature birth....this is why I don't ask what else is coming. I'm afraid I'd get even more grey hairs if I found out. :))

So, here's what was good about 2007:

Roisin came home from the NICU on January 5, 2007. (Rob and I said goodbye to sleeping through the night about two hours later ;-)

Rob turned 40.

I turned 33.

Roisin turned one.

The cat got even older than Noah. ;-)

And we're all still alive and (relatively) sane. Which in any year, is something of a miracle

So, welcome, 2008. May we all stay healthy, happy and whole.