Anomalous Cognition

A tale of two stories

2012-01-28T21:34:00.001-05:00

I bought two books at the Borders closing sale. --That's misleading. I bought dozens of books at the Borders closing sale. But I'm thinking about just two of them. I finished reading one last night: Mechanique: A Tale of the Circus Tresaulti, by Genevieve Valentine. It's about...hmm. It's about a circus made of people who are part machine in a postapocalyptic world. Part machine in a steampunk sort of way, not a Terminator sort of way. I don't read for style, but the style of this one caught me. And then the people, the world...if you look at the plot itself it's a fairly simple, fairly small plot, but you can't really do that because the characters' motivations and creation (within the story, that is) and the world itself are all so connected. It's a gorgeous book. All angles, no curves, but it circles back on itself and opens up little surprise doors and illuminates this grim life these grim people lead until it's beautiful. I generally don't write letters to authors, but I'm considering writing to this one to demand to know when her next is coming out.

So I finished it last night. I really should have just ended the night on that, but I like to have a book with me when I'm going through my end-of-the-night rituals (i.e., showering, brushing teeth, packing lunch). So I went to our recent-purchase stack and picked out Timecaster, by Joe Kimball. I'd picked this one out because the premise is similar to, though flashier than (and a near copy of Minority Report, as I understand it, though I've never seen or read it), a story idea I've been carrying around, and I thought it would be a fast, light read. It was in its way. Nine pages later I laid it on the post where we put things that need to go downstairs so that I could put it in the Goodwill pile.

It probably doesn't help that it came right after Mechanique, but I read some parts aloud to Eric and he was unimpressed too. There was immediate "as you know Bob." There was the self-described alpha male character being a jerk when he thought he was being assertive and alpha-male, though it only served to amuse me that he was simultaneously being kept by his wife. It may be the description of his wife that got me. One of the last real redheads? Gorgeous and svelte, with emerald green eyes? Oh, and she's a (legal) prostitute, too? The argument between the main character and his wife reminded me of the arguments between Mal and Inara in Firefly, but that's not actually the recommendation it sounds like because Mal is being a jerk in those arguments, too. Also, the "I only married you because it was cheaper than continuing to hire you" line was not as funny or endearing as the author probably intended it. And I got no sense that the character was intended to be a jerk. He seemed intended to be a wish-fulfillment sort of character. My sense is that I wasn't the intended audience. So, it can go to someone else who is part of that audience, and I'm sure he will enjoy it.

In which I get a pass

2012-01-10T23:32:00.000-05:00

So I survived the holidays intact...actually, a couple of pounds heavier, which doesn't normally happen to me. It was kind of interesting to notice the change, how I craved sugar so hard, and how now that they're over and my stress level is somewhat lower, I don't. The stress wasn't just due to the holidays, though that didn't help; work has been and continues to be crazy-busy, and I've been fretting over various issues in my life (job-hunting, house-selling, my marriage, finances, hobbies, housekeeping, and my teeth). Also I'm not getting nearly enough sleep. Somehow the status quo is that on the weekends, Eric gets to sleep in, and I catch a nap if I'm able to synchronize the girls' naps. I'm always on call for middle-of-the-night issues because I waken more easily (and am still nursing in Maia's case). This is not the way to run a successful Mamarchy.

So with the new year, though that wasn't how I planned it, I'm trying to get more sleep and worry less. Eric asked me the other day to try focusing on the positive aspects of my life, and I tried it and found it a very alien aspect. Which is not good. So I'm going to get myself some more practice in it, because I know that negativity does beget itself and doesn't taste good going down. It also helps that our finances are doing better with the help of a W-4 adjustment, a raise, and an impending refinance of our mortgage--and this last helps me just settle down to the reality that we're unlikely to sell the house, which in turn has calmed me down some. Apparently, sometimes certainty can be better than hope.

Speaking of certainty, I got a "pass" on my full request for Shoelace. Which I had expected, so it's not terribly disappointing, but a little bit, and I'm also feeling odd that I don't have anything out--which is really weird considering the very short amount of time I've had anything out on submission, ever. I'm still working on getting myself time to work on Lead Ghosts; with my sleep deprivation I decided that nights are not a good idea, which leaves my lunch hour. I've been skipping my lunch break at work to try to catch up, but I'm starting to realize I'm simply not going to, and so I may as well benefit from the break.

I did find an article with suggestions on improving writing efficiency (can't find it at the moment--YA fantasy author, I think, or just fantasy; got up to 10K words a day) and really liked the one, that prior to each writing session one should sit down and write down everything that's supposed to happen in the next scene, because it's tough to figure out what's supposed to happen at the same time that you're trying to concentrate on writing well and depicting mood and showing the scene and all of that. Which makes a lot of sense, and made me recall that I did something like that (though not as detailed) for PV. So I'm going to try it again.

Also started thinking about how an urban fantasy set in South Korea with tokkaebi instead of vampires would be fun. We'll see where that goes, if anywhere. I'm also excited about Lead Ghosts, which makes me happy. Now to make sure I actually take that time and work on it. That would also help lessen my stress, I think.

Yesterday's work-induced fit of rage

2011-11-16T21:41:00.001-05:00

"Units! Units, people! UNITS OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN."

Onward

2011-11-14T22:07:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago I started out a post with "I'm worried about my marriage." Then it devolved into a screed about all the things I've been frustrated about since I went back to work after Maia's birth, and then I took it off Blogger to write and print, and then I put it away because I didn't want Eric to see it. We've been talking about those issues, and I'm trying to work on them. It's tough. I don't know what's changed since Maia was born (...aside from the obvious), but something has, and it's made me discontented. I'm pretty sure it's me, not him, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't work on it.

Anyway. It is now the Christmas season, apparently, as evinced by the Christmas trees put up at work (really? I can kind of understand the giving-tree one because people like to do shopping early, but the others are just for decoration and dude, I like Thanksgiving) and the mint M&Ms in my stomach, and my thoughts have turned to Christmas crafts. They can do this because I am done, done, DONE with Shoelace. Done as in, I sent a query in to a "contest" in which the literary agent promised actual, stream-of-consciousness feedback to all queries sent in at a particular hour (well, she didn't say stream-of-consciousness and that isn't what people got from the sound of the comments, but that's how it sounded to me), thinking I'd get some useful feedback. Then she actually requested the manuscript and I said "Well *!&#" because I'd noticed a problem with the end that I was working on fixing, but hadn't worried about hurrying because what were the chances? The moral of the story here is that it is a bad idea to count on one's ineptitude in one area because it will fail, giving one's ineptitude in other areas a chance to shine. Ahem.

So I have closed the book on Shoelace (which does, in fact, have an actual title...I forget if I've ever mentioned this) and am pondering some background for the next story, currently titled the unfortunately-acronymed Variable Density. What would the Republicans think if there were superheroes running around? That's what I'm wondering.I found that doing an actual query submission made me think about my writing differently. It's very refreshing. I also recognized, during the frenzied finish-this-quick-so-I-can-send-it session, that writing is a bit like quilting for me in that at some point, I lose all perspective on my own work and can no longer judge its merits because I start seeing it in negative. I don't see the work, I only see what I had wanted it to be but wasn't able to make it. With quilting I ignore that. (It helps that quilts are more difficult to revise than manuscripts.) I should learn to do some of that with writing, too. And then maybe I'll be able to let the next project go after a couple of go-rounds.

And, as I tried to say two paragraphs ago, it's Christmas as far as crafting is concerned. I have a pair of Fiber Fish mittens to make for Chloë, and a quilt to finish for her because she's in need of a big-girl blanket that she doesn't want to lay on the floor and pretend is the beach, which is what she does with the only other big blanket she has, a thick teal number made by Mom. I have to make something for Maia because I feel bad about neglecting her just because she has everything she needs. I want to make some mittens for my niece Rae, because she was interested in Chloë's the last time she was over here, though I'm not positive this wasn't just because it was so cold I was making all the girls wear mittens and hats and she wanted to go outside. And I have handprint wall hangings to make, assuming I can get a good tracing of Maia's. I'll be keeping busy up until Christmas. I prefer it that way. Having crafting time really helps make me feel like a person rather than just a parenting, working automaton.

This post has no direction or cohesion at all, but I wanted to say something, so I feel better. Status: loving my children, ambivalent about my husband, finished my book, pondering the next, ambitious on my Christmas crafts. As Chloë keeps saying these days: Onward!

Simplicity

2011-09-23T11:53:00.000-05:00

I've been cutting out eight-inch squares of purple, blue, and green fabric for a quilt for the last few weeks. Chloë has an Elmo book, you see, on one of the pages of which Elmo is jumping on his bed with his favorite teddy monster, and on his quilt is a simple, impossibly puffy quilt of blue and green squares. Chloë has repeatedly talked about the quilt, and I got the brilliant idea of making her one like it since she needs a bigger blanket for her bed anyway. This was foolish as I have no time, and also want to make a (also very simple) baby quilt for my brother's best friend's new baby before we leave for Seattle next week. But I've been cutting out squares here and there, and now I've got enough to start sewing.

I thought it would be nice to get done slowly over the next few weeks, a couple of seams at a time, or however long Chloë was willing to bring me squares and sit in my lap and keep her hands away from the sewing machine. Alas: she's scared of the noise. It's too loud, she says (or "tu howd"). Ah well. When I get this other quilt done...because I will, right?...II'll start sewing hers together, a few seams at a time, in the evening. I'd had a much more complicated and awesome one planned before Maia was born: bears in the woods on a moonlit evening. But it didn't happen before Maia was born, so it won't for a while; and now I don't think I'd do that design since she's much more into water at the moment. (She might appreciate the bears, but only if they looked enough like Care Bears, which wasn't my plan.)

I miss doing complicated hobby work, but there's also something charming about the simplicity of a few squares here, a few square there. I also miss the sourdough and artisan bread I used to make, but I like having Chloe help me pile in the ingredients for our standard wheat every week or two (Though I do plan on trying a variation of King Arthur's sandwich rye soon. Also a cinnamon/applesauce bread for French toast inspired by their banana yeast bread. I'll probably freeze it in individual slices so we can store it for just that purpose.) Eric asked me about the logistics that a job on Bainbridge Island would entail, and when he learned that the commute would be long and we couldn't afford to live close, decided it wasn't for him. "Come home at 6:30, then immediately dinner, bathtime, bedtime," he said. "Not a thrilling idea." I think I always knew I would be retooling my life to fit around children, and this is what it looks like. I'll make them complicated quilts when they're older and can appreciate it more anyway.

Sometimes my subconscious has no subtlety at all.

2011-09-03T02:54:00.001-05:00

Epizeuxis: a word you wake up with in your head at 3:30 before realizing that that crying is the baby, the baby, you idiot.

(I had to look it up.)

Ladies who bake

2011-08-26T08:10:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was the first time in years we've bought sandwich bread. Eric keeps saying that now that he's used to "real" bread, he'll never be able to go back to the storebought "bread" (complete with scare quotes). It's very endearing, if exaggerated, but with him still sick and Chloe too, and me suffering from my sleep loss (Maia gets up to five hours between feedings, but only every once in a while and only right after she goes down for the night, and I never go to bed when she does), I haven't been able to make bread and we had a grocery run and needed something simple for dinner. So Aunt Millie's whole-wheat bread went into the cart and we had grilled cheese sandwiches when we came home. And it turns out I really can tell the difference; there's a slightly odd taste to the storebought bread (which admittedly might be the length of time it's sat in the plastic bag, but might also be the additives) and while it's nice and soft, it doesn't stand up to buttering or grilling the way mine does. Eric's made me promise to make bread this weekend.

I joined a new writing site, Ladies Who Critique, intended to help members find critique partners. I'm not quite actively looking yet, as Shoelace isn't done, but I'm close. I hope. I've reclaimed my lunch hour from my work to-do list and am plodding along. It's really interesting how easy it is to write a scene now, assuming I know what I'm doing in it. I know these characters; I know this world; I know this story. I just haven't happened to write this scene before. After this long, I should know it this well, I suppose. I think that if I do not finish Shoelace by the end of the year, I'm going to stop. It's enough. I'll give it up and start something new. With luck the deadline will spur me on. (Getting away from work clients helps, too.)

A small illness

2011-08-05T12:29:00.001-05:00

I wonder how many blog posts/diary entries/letters have begun with "I hate being sick." Or how many have begun with "I wonder how many..." (but let's not go down that recursive road). At any rate, I've had a nasty cold that knocked me out of life other than what was absolutely necessary: feeding Maia, caring for Chloe, going to work because the US sucks for maternity care and I don't have any sick days and we can't afford to lose any of my time. Ahem. I went to bed as soon as Chloe did for several nights running, or tried to; Maia's close to but not yet at the point where we want to start sleep training her (she needs to space out her meals a little longer first) and so if she wouldn't sleep, I couldn't. Theoretically Eric could watch her, but he's got a deadline on the textbook he's writing, and I do want to let him have the evenings child-free when he can since he has them all day. Of course that doesn't, or shouldn't, mean that he goes off duty when I get home, because that would mean I was working all hours while he wasn't, but I can be kind.

I'm still not well, but my body is in cleanup stage: cough winding down, gunk removed not being replaced, hunger starting to come back. I read the other day a description of shingles that ran something like "They don't just give you medicine for the pain, they give you antidepressants to manage your mood" and realized with interest that I'm never depressed when I'm sick. I mean, I'm unhappy about being sick; but I don't have that my life-is-worthless, the-future-is-dread kind of mopeyness. Maybe it's because when I'm sick, the future is bright because in the future I won't be sick. Or that when I'm sick my body shuts down higher-level things like existential angst and focuses on survival, which is wholly appropriate. At any rate, I look forward to being able to afford existential angst.

As you know, Bob, you like to read

2011-07-19T08:12:00.000-05:00

I'm reading Five Odd Honors, the last book in Jane Lindskold's latest trilogy which started with Thirteen Orphans, and am distressed. The entire series has needed tightening, writing-wise--way too much chattiness and wishy-washyness of word choice and as-you-know-Bob-itis. I feel certain that the phrase "or whatever" should not appear nearly so much in fiction as it does in real life, especially when not in dialogue. Now in the third book, there's an as-you-know-Bob of such proportions that we've actually got one character telling a second character about the events in that second character's history. And it's not as if the second character has amnesia or anything. He was there, and he remembers. And we already got this information in a previous book. I can think of at least two other ways this could have been handled. I've been extremely fond of Jane Lindskold's books up until now, and so I'm deeply distressed by this. (There was also the issue early in the first book of a character saying she knew instantly that a particular person was Chinese, and then went on to describe his clothes and said she couldn't see his face--but that could have been the character's own problems, of which she had many.) I'm still interested in the story, and I'll still buy her next book, but I'm going to be a lot more wary about it, and that saddens me.

Nursing gives me a ton of time for reading...or would if I didn't have a toddler trying to climb up my knees all the time...which is one of its few advantages. For me, I mean. I've gotten through a bunch of books of Eric's, and several new ones of my own. I'm finding it difficult to get through the nonfiction reading I want to finish, though. I think it's because fiction is comfort reading for me, and the newborn months require a lot of comforting. I feel like a bit of a wuss, but that's the way it is. I also feel a bit like Rory from "Gilmore Girls," in that I have three or four books open at any given time now. Right now there's Women and Gender in Islam in the nursery, and Mirage (about Napoleon's expedition to Egypt) in the bathroom, and Five Odd Honors floating. Perhaps my real problem is that I don't like to focus.

On not moving

2011-07-18T08:52:00.000-05:00

I dreamed last night that I was making my way from here to Seattle, broke and on foot, like in a video game. Sometimes I had companions, sometimes not, and we got into all kinds of adventures and distractions, and if I made the wrong choices I'd just fade out and end up back at the beginning, not always knowing what I'd done wrong. I'd just about made it and was noticing that the mountains made me a little uneasy when I woke up.

I've stopped talking about moving with my family. We're still trying, or still trying to try; but the house isn't selling and job-hunting isn't easy in the current economic climate and particularly not when your two-month-old is crying whenever she isn't feeding at night and your two-year-old wants to be played with all the time and wakes up at six. I don't know if my family figures I've given up or is bored with the topic or is just trying to give me a break. I hate that we're not leaving. The house isn't right for us and neither is the climate, either geological or sociopolitical, and Eric doesn't want our daughters in the local school district and I miss my family more than Eric seems to think he'll miss his; but we can't go. I've already wasted my youth in the Midwest (why did I decide I wanted to experience the Midwest?) and it's so much harder to move with a husband and two kids.

Blah. I will try to get to the job-hunting as I can. I will continue with all the little things that are nice about our life. Maia is now stopping in the middle of nursing to smile up at me. It's inconvenient, but it's very endearing. Chloë can do complicated sentences and minor reasoning and her hair is long enough to put up into pigtails. It's ice cream and tomato season. And work is slow enough that I can write every day. These are good things.

It just takes the cake

2011-07-14T10:38:00.001-05:00

Let's talk about cake. My aunt decorates cakes as a serious hobby--she made them for her daughters' weddings and would have for mine if she hadn't lived 2500 miles away. (Should have asked her anyway, though. My wedding cake was lousy. It tasted fine, and that was about all that could be said for it. Luckily we also served homemade ice cream.) My sister-in-law got interested in cake-decorating a couple of years ago and produced some awesome cakes for her daughter's birthday parties. Personally, I've never been that big into cake (ice cream and brownies are my preference), so I admired from a distance until it came time to make Chloë's first birthday cake. Because of course I had to make it from scratch and decorate it. That's what moms do, right? Or at least that's what moms who like to cook and bake and fancy themselves quick learners do.

So I made a lemon cake from my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, with lemon curd filling and Italian buttercream frosting (I had to go online for that one--and was thrilled because I'm not fond of American frostings as a rule), and decorated it just before serving because there were issues and I couldn't get to it earlier, and it was nothing special looks-wise but it tasted good, and I was pleased. I decided I would get more interested in cakes--mainly the baking, since I didn't want to be seen as competing with my sister-in-law. Eric got me The Cake Bible for my birthday this year, and I made a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and ate about half of it myself. Then I got out the Wilton decorating books my aunt gave me for my wedding shower long ago, which I'd brought out for Chloë's cake but nothing since.

And now? Now I'm fantasizing about the truly awesome cakes I could make and frost. Chloë's birthday this year is water-themed, kiddie pools and a sprinkler and water balloons for the kids to play with. I was going to make an underwater cake, with cookie fish and seaweed and maybe some sea stars and piped shells and graham-cracker sand, but then I saw this cake and decided that I must make a backyard cake, complete with kiddie pool and sprinkler and hose.

Luckily, this idea is actually going to be less strenuous, piping-wise, than the fish one, which is good considering I have a two-month-old and a two-year-old and no time to sit down and actually practice piping. It will involve constructing a pool, probably out of pie crust, and cutting up some licorice and other candies, but that I think I can do.

So I don't think this will become a new hobby, but it's definitely a new interest. I have to go out sometime in the next two weeks and get a grass piping tip. And when will the next cake be? I don't know, because our nuclear family's next birthday is in April and anyone else would probably be covered by my sister-in-law. Maybe a fall cake is in order.

Being back

2011-07-07T10:15:00.001-05:00

I realized yesterday that I've been working on Shoelace for ten years. This is absurd. I was single when I started it. Now I have a husband and two children. Admittedly those have been distractions, and also admittedly the story has gone through some drastic changes since I started. But seriously? Ten years? What idiocy. I'm finishing it this year (didn't before Maia came, obviously) and putting it away, for gods' sake.

So yes, I have two children now. I've realized I hate the newborn stage of life. I mean, not hate exactly...no, maybe that is what I mean. I resent walking the halls with a screaming baby every night. (Lack of colic would make the newborn phase easier, I admit.) I resent nursing every hour and a half--though that's gotten better recently. I do like her portability, and her smiles, and the way she snuggles up to me when we fall asleep together (though I don’t like the frequency with which we fall asleep together, though this is mainly because it hurts my back). And I know that things get much better from here. Chloë continues to get awesomer, though at the moment also more histrionic. Still, she's great fun. I'm having a slight rocky patch with Eric at the moment--totally one-sided, and totally due to the new baby and the adjustments (and maternity leave) that came with her. Life is crowded but good. I'm just now starting to get back to writing--and I want to really get back to it and put this away. This is ridiculous. Ten years!

Giving it a try

2011-03-22T20:49:00.004-05:00

I posted at the baby blog about the frustration I've been feeling lately with housework and hobbies and free time in general. It only touched on the ambivalence on child #2 that I was having in the first trimester and that is coming back now that I'm actively counting weeks until my due date. I'm not sure whether I ought to be discussing that in front of my friends and family. (I guess I don't think here counts. Dunno if anyone reads it.) Also I don't want to give the impression I'm trawling for sympathy or something. A friend wrote to me and offered her services for housework or whatever, which was very sweet but which I don't think I could take her up on (however: if she were willing to entertain Chloë while I worked, that might be different), and Eric expressed concern and wanted to talk about what these projects were that I was stressing out about. (The fact that he had to ask sort of underscores my point, though, I think.)

However, we've been working on laundry and dishes the past few days, and I did some vacuuming tonight despite a very tantrum-y night (Chloë, not me), and having finished my nephew's quilt at last I'm feeling somewhat better about the state of things. Not great, but better. I'm working on the Shoelace rewrite at the moment--or anyway avoiding working on it. I'm at a scene that involves politics, and I haven't actually developed the politics of the region for this world beyond a vague sense of small countries with ever-changing alliances and very few certainties. I think this means I am not writing a good book, or at least that I'm not writing this book well. I've learned a lot these past couple of years about writing, I think, despite the fact that I haven't done much of it. It's been interesting, and useful, if disappointing at times.

In any case, I have some politics to work out, and a scene to write. I'm currently at 34,596 words in draft 2, most of it new. I'm not sure I can get this done before the new baby comes (April 26, or thereabouts), but I'm going to give it my best try.

Whine, whine, whine

2011-02-10T21:06:00.003-05:00

Okay, now I'm depressed. (In the sense Eric doesn't like me using that word--the nonclinical one.) There are plenty of good writers out there and I'm no better than any of them and my mind is too fuzzy to focus on being really really good at anything. And I don't want to take the time to write Shoelace right because I don't think it will ever amount to anything. But I can't just give up either. Blargh blargh BLARGH.

In a good place

2011-02-08T23:10:00.004-05:00

I am so tired. This is mainly because I set myself up to be so--I'm sitting in bed after taking my shower and having my now-usual bedtime snack. Today's was more necessary than usual because we visited the mothers for the evening and had no real dinner--or rather, I didn't. Chloe had dinner with her cousins, meat and noodles and carrots and grapes, and Eric had an enchilada and part of a frozen pizza. My niece Addie wanted to play, so I had her play chef and make me a fruit salad and a piece of toast, which seemed like things she could handle. (I cut up the apple and peeled the orange that went into the fruit salad. Eric helped her wash the blueberries. Michelle helped her operate the toaster.) She was pleased, and I was happy, but dinner is usually more substantial than that.

Anyway. I'm working on Shoelace. I'm doing very well on my self-imposed schedule. I want to have the rewrite done by March 31 so I can submit it to my novel crit group (and wash my hands of it a few weeks before the baby comes). This requires getting through about five scenes a week. I'm a little behind, but not as much as I feared. I'm working on it during lunches (which involves bringing my netbook to work, which in turn involves selling the netbook to everyone who notices me with it--a coworker walked up today and said "What's that?" and it was really hard not to say "Really? You don't know what it is? Exactly what do you work on all day here?") and completing scenes at night, and it's actually very pleasant to sit down with the netbook after Chloe goes to bed and write. Maybe I'll even get into the habit again by the time I'm done...in time to forget it again when the baby arrives, I know.

I've got a lot on my plate at the moment, almost all self-imposed. There's the Shoelace rewrite. There's Fiberscapes, the secret project Carol and Charlotte and I are working on--we're going to (we think) take a booth at the Ann Arbor Fiber Expo in October, and so are working on spinning yarn, dyeing fiber, making ornaments, writing patterns, and generally indulging in fibery productive goodness. I'm a bit more concerned about our pace and output than either of them seem to be, but that's just my style, and with luck my fears are completely ill-founded. Then there's Gabe's racetrack quilt, which I hope to have done by his birthday, which is in less than a month. (I spun tonight instead of working on the quilt, but I really need to devote the rest of the week to finishing the top. I need to applique a grandstand. How do you applique a grandstand?) And then there's the packing up of the craft room to make it into Chloe's room. Oh, and constructing my new dresser and doing taxes and putting up new curtain rods and so on.

So I'm busy, but delightfully so. It's really, really nice to feel I have a lot to do and I'm doing it. That I'm capable of this while having a child and supporting a family. I know everything's going to go off-kilter again when Maia is born, but I have faith that I'll get back to this place, eventually.

Christmas crafts

2010-12-22T16:40:00.000-05:00

Christmas finds me almost ready this year. I keep thinking that Christmas is tomorrow, because we get the rest of the week off work, but no, it's Saturday. Good, because things are still undone, but (even though I feel like it's Christmas Eve) I know I've got time to get them done. We're doing candies for friends and family; two more batches (one easy, one moderately involved) and we'll be done. I've got a doll to finish for Chloe; it needs jointing and clothes. I've got a quilt wall hanging to finish for Eric; it needs a couple of appliques (done McKenna-Ryan-style because it's a wall hanging) and some mild quilting and then binding. I've got a couple of bracelets to make for little girls, which will just mean stringing beads onto jewelry elastic, already purchased. I'm doing all right.

I've been knitting a stocking of my own design for Chloe, which has been quite enjoyable despite my tension troubles with colorwork. However, I realized a couple of days ago that it looked awfully small. I finally measured it last night and found that my 5 st/in gauge somehow shrank (increased?) to nearly 6, and so the stocking I thought would be nearly 15" around is more like 12". This is too small, especially since the length is correspondingly shortened, so I'm going to rip it out and start again in a bigger needle size. Sigh. But since it's been an enjoyable knit, it'll be okay...especially since I've got a year to do it. (I never expected to finish in time for this Christmas.)

Every day goes by

2010-11-19T16:47:00.000-05:00

I'm chugging along on Christmas crafts. To do: one woven scarf, one mitten (not actually for Christmas, just to avoid my child freezing her fingers off), several ornaments. Also cookies, etc. I'm looking forward to the holidays. I don't know why. Maybe because I'll have to make myself clean the house again. Mom and Dad coming to visit in three weeks is also good for that.

Life is straightening out quite a bit now that I'm into the second trimester. I haven't felt the baby move yet, but I'm okay with that. I'm regaining some foods, including chocolate, and now that it's citrus season I feel able to face the kitchen with reasonable fortitude. We've finally caught up on the dishes and laundry, and I'm working on crafting again, and even critting. No writing. I want to finish the Shoelace rewrite by the time the baby comes, but it isn't looking good.

Carol, her friend Charlotte, and I are working on a secret craft project. I'm not sure how secret we're making it--it's not like it's anything illicit, just blue-sky-ish for three busy moms--but that's part of the fun. Anyway, it will involve craft days and financial calculations and should be tons of fun, even if it doesn't work out, just like the Book Club Eric and I used to talk about. Pretty dreams are nice things. I'm starting to realize that's all they are. I'm really not very ambitious. Lazy? I'm not sure. Busy? Am I on the nineteenth story? Is that bad?

R.I.P.

2010-10-22T08:30:00.000-05:00

Alas! My sourdough starter is dead!

I really am sorry; I've kept it going for two years now, and made some good breads with it. It survived my previous first trimester, but this one apparently defeated it. I was rooting through the fridge last night for something to eat (a quest that was much easier to fulfill before I got a parasite growing in me) and thought, "What's in this old jar?" What was in it was sourdough starter and black mold. It went into the trash.

I have some dried starter from a year or so ago that I should be able to use to start over. I'm thinking I'm not going to bother right now, though. I'm not finding the time or the stomach to either make or eat a lot of bread these days, certainly not anything experimental, which sourdough usually is for me. And I've got cookbooks full of recipes for yeast-based breads. But it makes me a little sad; this is the first true casualty of this pregnancy, other than maybe the garden (and my jeans). Though I fully intend to grow a few things in pots next year. Tomatoes, if nothing else. I went out last night to pick the last of the tomatoes because there was a frost warning, and took Chloe with me. I put thumbless mittens on her to keep her warm, but she got out of them anyway and chomped happily on the tomatoes I'd just picked, getting seeds all over her jacket and pants. She's going to be so sad this winter, and so happy next summer.

Knitting like mad, or at least a little eccentric

2010-10-19T19:31:00.000-05:00

Workin' on Chloe's sweater. Not because it's gotten cold. Because I just realized we're leaving for Seattle in eight days (Eight! Days!) and I have to have Addie's kitty hat finished by then, because it's for Halloween as part of her costume, and we won't be here after that Wednesday. And the needles I need are the needles Chloe's sweater is on. So. Knitting tonight.

We're going to Seattle because I got great tickets--$700 including taxes and fees for the three of us--and I'm sick of Toledo and my job and I need to get out of this town and this routine. So we're going somewhere I'll hardly have to look after Chloe and can laze about all day, or go sightseeing or shopping, or take over the kitchen and make cookies, just as I like. And where I can see my family. I miss my family. The plan to move out there hasn't been working out. I've been job-hunting diligently, but no bites, not even any false alarms. No nibbles on the house other than one showing. I'm trying not to let it get to me. It would help if the shelf in the bathroom closet wouldn't keep collapsing on me, and if my dresser weren't suddenly, rapidly deforming under the weight of my clothes.

I'm also a little depressed a bout giving up the garden, though I've known that one was coming. With a toddler and a pregnancy, there's simply no way I'll get out there and do what needs doing. This seems ridiculous, until I remember everything else I'm also trying to do.

So, lots of knitting the next several nights. When I'm knitting I want to spin. When I'm spinning I want to read. When I'm reading I want to quilt or garden. When I'm...you get the idea. But I do get things done. I've got to remember that, right?

Matters of state

2010-10-18T20:38:00.002-05:00

Well, hello again. I've just recently closed down another blog, the garden one, so maybe I'll be able to remember to turn to this one. So far it's mostly been the baby blog and my worknotes (e-mails to myself).

Let's see. Important news: I am pregnant again. Go ahead, ask me if it was planned. I'm due April 26, and have just given up job-hunting because I couldn't in good conscience accept a job and then go on maternity leave five or fewer months earlier. I hate this, but there it is. Eric is a stay-at-home dad, teaching a class at a local community college and doing online tutoring at night, and it's working out well except that I need a new computer (or at least a new OS, but the new computer would be really nice too) and we don't make enough disposable income that I'm comfortable getting one. It's going on the Christmas list. Chloë is doing very well; she can walk and say "up" and "Dada" and can point to various body parts, and gives marvelous hugs. I'm alternately excited and scared of having a second one. We're just growing into this nice family. Nevertheless.

I finished my most recent craft project, a quilt for my new niece (born last Sunday, I shipped it today, so that wasn't as bad as it could have been). Currently in progress:

-a baby sweater for Chloë, nearly finished
-a kitty hat for Chloë's cousin's Halloween costume, nearly started
-designs for Christmas stockings for all of us
-various attempts at making fleece hats and mittens for Chloë for the winter

Chloë's already outgrowing the baby blanket I made her, and she'll be moving to a toddler bed next summer anyway, so I'm contemplating a big-girl quilt for her. Also one for the new baby. No ideas yet on either.

And I've started the Shoelace revision. Rewrite, rather. I've been doing some research and some thinking and have, I hope, a much better background and outline. Currently I'm some 3500 words in, mostly new. I joined the Novel Club, a quarterly novel-critiquing group, on FMwriters, and I'd like to have this finished to submit by March. Ideally I'd say December, but I know that's not going to happen.

My current plan: finish the above craft projects, start on the quilts, do this quarter's crit early, and plod through Shoelace. I've been taking my lunch hour at work to either craft or write, since if I don't I just end up working through, and that's been helpful. It's also been nice that Chloë has become more independent, and importantly very regular in her sleeping habits, so I have a little time every day to work--not much, but some. So that's the plan. (Rule the world/you and me/Any day--I watched Dr. Horrible twice this weekend, and now I want to keep watching it so I can acquire the music and not just keep singing the same phrases to myself.)

Frittering away my night

2010-05-05T21:20:00.002-05:00

Gah. I have this huge list of things that need doing and I've done little bits of things tonight, and yesterday, but nothing's gotten actually done. I made cookies tonight, which was totally unnecessary; yesterday I read some archives of a new-to-me online comic. The quilt isn't quite done, the Mother's Day cards haven't been sent out, the garden isn't ready, the job-hunt lies dormant, the house is filthy. I hate feeling always behind. And this is without getting into things like exercise, or writing, or crafts. I suppose it does account for cooking, since I just said I pushed my actual list aside for cookies. Good cookies, I must say. But still.

Is it appropriate or wildly wrong to say something about old dogs and new tricks here?

2010-05-04T15:46:00.001-05:00

We went to Penguicon this past weekend. I like ConFusion, the other SF/F convention we go to yearly, better, but there was a lot of fun stuff in this one. I didn't get to see half of it because Eric slept during my Chloe-free time (I let him because he had an upset tummy), but for example, one of the panels was on real-life superheroes and legal and ethical issues attending them. Intriguing and great fun. There was one on humor in SF/F, and one on DIY blogs, and lots of things I missed. (I did have a good time, don't get me wrong. I'm just not used to not being able to do most of what I want to do at a con.)

One of the panels I attended was "The Emergence of the Female Superhero." It was fun, though it started and ended with a discussion of whose superhero costume was the best. The discussion progressed through "what is a superhero" kickass women who are too self-conscious (as in, trying too hard to say "I'm a girl and I kick ass"--the panel's example was Buffy) and kickass women who aren't (Zoe from Firefly) and the Bechdel-Wallace test and so on.

At one point, one of the participants said something about "I'm going to ask a controversial question: are we making too much of the difference between men and women and focusing too much attention on women?" He didn't say it nearly that directly, but that was how I interpreted it. Nobody else on the panel appeared to pay much attention. Later in response to a question I don't remember, he said, "Well, maybe the feminists in the room think so, but..." Nobody, panel or audience, appeared to notice, and that was the last thing he said. He sat for the rest of the panel with his mouth closed, looking angry.

When I told Eric about the "maybe the feminists" comment later he said, "And he walked out of there with his balls?", which amused me, but kind of made me sad because there was never a chance of him (the panelist) being confronted about his pretty apparently antifeminist mindset. It wouldn't have been polite, and it would have ruined a mostly enjoyable conversation about women in media (not totally, since a lot of it was about Castle, which I've only seen one episode of, and when the Bechdel-Wallace test was mentioned one of the male panelists instantly said, "But women never talk about anything other than men," which irritated me since that sort of joke is part of the problem). The discussion itself was never really about female superheroes, more about how women are portrayed in (fiction) media, which was still interesting; but I'd been hoping for a more positive perspective than a rehashing of all the stories in which women must be isolated or freaks in order to be featured as major characters.

I suppose I'm glad the panelist didn't attempt to derail the discussion by talking about how the problem of women in the media was vastly overblown and if people would just be sensible it would all go away and we'd realize there's really no problem. I hope he knew it wouldn't be well received. And I'm glad it wasn't my last panel of the con, or I'd have gone away more depressed than I did. As it was I went to the DIY blogs one and was pretty entertained, and newly interested in writing up my quilting patterns.

Yuck

2010-04-21T22:19:00.000-05:00

Ugh. I've had what I think is food poisoning all day, waxing and waning, and have just concluded it with a communion with the porcelain god. Amazing how immediately I feel better, though. I wonder if other parts of my life are like that. But not much. Mostly I need to take my pills, prep for tomorrow, and go to bed so I can do tomorrow the things I meant to do today.

XXX

2010-04-05T10:27:00.003-05:00

I am thirty years old today. My baby is sleeping on the floor (having been sung to sleep by Mom, who's visiting for a week) and my husband is sleeping in the bedroom. I'm sitting cross-legged on the comfy couch in my living room, recently cleaned, and the sun would be shining in if we didn't have the curtains closed so Chloe could sleep better. I'm in my prepregnancy jeans and typing on my little netbook, and tonight Eric is making brownies for my birthday (I'm not all that fond of cake, so it's brownies and ice cream and strawberries instead). It's a good day to be thirty. I keep thinking that birthdays will change me, for some reason...maybe because everyone asks, and gets asked, the same stupid question: "Do you feel any different?" I don't feel any different, and I never will. I just feel like me. I think that's pretty good.

Technology love and baby love

2010-02-22T21:44:00.002-05:00

Well, that was fun. Friday I had my e-mail hacked into; Sunday I got a pair of viruses on my netbook and only just now got them fixed. Well, I hope it's fixed. And it was actually Eric who did it. But anyway. What I'm trying to say is, I love technology.

Work is insane, and has been ever since my coworker went on medical/maternity leave. I consider it an accomplishment that I'm down to one to-do list from the previous two ("To do" and "To do first"). I'm sorely tempted to take tomorrow off, but then I'd only be further behind when I got back. Blechh. I'm very glad that we're getting a child-free overnight date on Friday, though. It's not so much that I want to be away from the kid as that I just want not to be obliged to do things.

I went to a fleece fair in Chelsea with Carol on Saturday. We left the babies at home, ran into some friends, bought stuff for ourselves, went out for coffee and ice cream afterward...why did I have a baby again? I guess because when I left work today, I left at five exactly, even though I wanted to stay and try to catch up, and I was eager to go pick up my baby because I knew holding her would make me feel better after my rotten day. It did until she started screaming, but to be fair, that wasn't until I put her down to get her in her carseat.

Considering research

2010-01-26T21:07:00.002-05:00

Chloë is in her crib, moaning, "Why did you wake me up just to put me in bed? Life is pain!" We just got back from a Tupperware party, where I considered getting her that red-and-blue put-the-yellow-blocks-into-the-holes thingy but decided I should leave for her grandmothers to get later on. Instead I got more containers for flour. I routinely have at least four different kinds of flour around the house now, and get nervous if there isn't an extra bag of AP at least in the freezer. (There isn't now. But we need to go to Kroger soon.)

We went to Confusion this weekend, and had a pretty good time. Not as good con-wise as previous years, but there was good Chloë-time; she loved the new scenery and the new faces and all the people who tried to make her smile, which isn't hard. I went to some panels and took the swing dancing tutorial and stayed in the hotel room at night, playing with my new netbook while Chloë slept. I'd meant to try working on some writing, but I played a game instead (it came pre-installed on the computer--luckily it's only a trial version).

I'm starting to think about how to revise Shoelace. Mainly, I'm thinking I need to do a lot of research to better build the world. I'm not all that keen on world-building, and it probably shows. I first started realizing how lacking I've been in the research department at the Penguicon writer's workshop last year. And I think a recent conversation of Eric's and mine solidified it:

"I miss college."

"The best time of my life. It's all been downhill from there."

"Unfortunately you can't get a job where you're paid to learn all the time."

"Writers do."

What's cooking

2010-01-19T10:07:00.001-05:00

I cooked dinner last night, for what seems like the first time in forever--both that I cooked alone, and that we had a real dinner. It was a light one, at that--roasted vegetables (including kohlrabi, which is new to us; it tastes fine but needed more roasting time than the other vegetables, which was problematic), spinach salad, and onion-dill bread. This is the third iteration of onion-dill bread, the first two occurring when I was just starting out in bread-baking, and I think the practice shows. Eric says I should leave the recipe just as it is. I think I'm going to mess around with the preferment a little anyway, because it's so wet I'm worried about leaving it out for most of a day, but otherwise I'm happy about it.

It was great eating a real dinner, with a couple of different dishes, at the same time, without having to go to a restaurant. It's not the baby that's keeping us from doing it--not mostly, at any rate. Occasionally I eat while Eric feeds her some carrots or oatmeal or sweet potatoes and then he eats while I nurse her, but mainly it's that we haven't cooked and it's late, and he's got work to do, or we don't have anything in the house to make one of the few big dishes we both like, or we can't decide what to eat, or I start picking on his slovenly habits or the sorry state of the kitchen and the food discussion gets derailed. (I thought we'd argue more once we had a baby, but I thought the arguments would be about the baby.) It feels healthier as well as more comfortable, too. I've been getting into bad eating habits lately. This is not so good since my work clothes are still tighter than I'd like.

So I went to the farmer's market Saturday, and Costco Sunday, and this week I'll be cooking and maybe baking some more. We've got ConFusion this weekend, and I've got the Chloë night shift, so I won't be able to leave the hotel room and bringing snacks would be a good idea. And I like cooking and baking; it's interesting, it's satisfying, it's good for us, and it makes me feel more in control of my health. Never mind that the next thing I really want to make is gingerbread cookies.

Resolute

2010-01-11T22:48:00.004-05:00

Hello, New Year. Hello, blog. Hello, world. (return 0)

I think I'm ready to come out of hibernation. Or funk, or whatever it is that I've had. Postpartum lost-my-grip-on-my-lifedness. I still haven't finished Chloë's quilt, but I've worked on it, and I've made some things and gotten back to something like my old life, only slower. And full of a cute baby who now sits up, and babbles, and grins like a spreading dawn. And also likes to grab my lower lip while nursing and pull, but never mind that.

I have yet to write my Annual Review for 2009, but I'm hoping to very soon. I'd do it at work, only work has been insane. My coworker left for maternity leave early, and she and I job-share, sort of, so I'm now doing one-and-three-quarters jobs (I can farm out part of it). I think I'm going to be constantly on the brink of disaster until she comes back. But I'm handling the work, so far, and in a way it's nice to be so busy. I feel very useful, and mostly pretty competent (except when I've messed something up, but with this much work it's probably statistically inevitable that that would happen).

Current status: I'm still on writing break. Thinking about breaking it, but I feel like I need to warm up a little first. Also decide whether to go back to Shoelace, or start the something new I've been wanting to do for a few years now. Craft-wise, I need to finish Chloë's quilt (Baby's First Spaceship) and make one for Raegan, my new niece, and then another for a friend of ours due in July. I'd like to finish Chloë's by ConFusion, the weekend after next. We'll see. I also want to try more weaving--I got a little loom and made a project and liked it, but haven't had time to do a second one--and get back to spinning, which I haven't touched for months and want to. Work-wise, I'd like to be in a new job by the end of the year--not because I dislike the one I've got, but because this is the year we're going to do our darnedest to move out to the West Coast. Anyone want to buy a house? We're starting to talk about what needs to happen to the house to get it in selling condition by spring.

I can't promise I'm going to write here any more often than I have been, but I'll try. The more I write, the more I have to say, I've noticed, and I think I've been too quiet. So onward we go. (But now I have to go get the Medela out and then go to bed.)

Something broken

2009-11-12T20:22:00.001-05:00

My purse died last night. It's ten years old, black leather, very reliable; I've kept it even though Mom (who's given me every purse I've ever owned but one) has been telling me it's too old for years. I admit it was getting worn. She has trouble getting me to give up coats, too. But it was very useful, full of pockets, the right size, and I wouldn’t consider discarding it for another until the zipper, which has been failing, broke completely. So now I'm using another purse Mom gave me--a handbag really, big enough to hold all my pursing needs plus a camera, knitting project, apple, granola bar, and paperback book. (I've mostly used it for plane flights.) It's a nicer purse, objectively, and I’m sure I'll get used to it in time.

I've been on a writing hiatus since I finished Shoelace, except for a couple of writing exercises. I considered doing another project, code-named Cherry Tree, for NaNoWriMo, but my outline wasn't finished by October 31 and I decided to forget it. It was probably a good decision. My nights are still mostly taken up with feeding the baby and putting her to bed and then going to sleep myself. I've been doing a little baking, and a little crafting (and sadly have been tempted into trying another hobby, due to a freebie I got when I went to the Fiber Expo in Ann Arbor and reading Jen's blog: weaving), and a little goofing off, but mostly during the week it's work, eat dinner, take care of the baby, sleep. I'm kind of okay with this. I feel like the medication is preventing me from feeling bad about it. That's what it's supposed to do, but it's kind of weird anyway. But I'm definitely not getting much done. I'm trying to be okay with this, though I always feel I'm doing something wrong when I'm not getting things done. (Don't look at my floors, for example.)

The unutterable tragedy of instant oatmeal

2009-11-02T10:25:00.001-05:00

"What are those?" my coworker exclaimed, looking up from rifling through the Halloween candy someone had brought in and noticing my butter tub.

"Oatmeal," I started to say.

"Oh, walnuts," he said, sounding relieved. "Did you put those in there yourself? Or did it come with them?"

This is the second time someone at work has commented on the fanciness of my oatmeal, which I have every weekday morning (unless I made muffins or something the Sunday before). It's not that hard: two-thirds of a cup of Quaker old-fashioned oats, a spoonful of brown sugar, a handful of Craisins, and another handful of walnuts or almonds. Obviously, today was a walnut day.

I used to bring in the packets of instant oatmeal. But I got tired of the flavors and the cost, and read that you could make your own--then read that putting boiling water on regular rolled oats works just fine. Now I put hot water from the coffeemaker spigot in and microwave it for forty seconds, and it's almost like cooking it on the stove, which is how I like oatmeal best (but never get anymore because eating oatmeal five days a week is enough so I never make it at home).

Anyway, I understand why people ask me where I bought my fancy oatmeal. But it's sad just the same.

It's that time of year

2009-10-28T22:18:00.001-05:00

Note to self, for Christmas supply order: 9 cups Dutched cocoa.

Shoelace, tied

2009-10-07T21:12:00.001-05:00

105,685, and Shoelace is done. Done. And I am dead inside about it. I'd meant to finish it before Chloë came, and then finish it on maternity leave, and I guess I have--I go back to work in exactly eight days--but I have no sense of triumph, not even any sense that it's finished. It's been dragging on so long, and I've known there are so many things wrong with it, and I've been writing so poorly, and ugh.

But it's done. Now I will let it sit for a while, and think about my next project, Finity's Edge, which has been in queue for a damned long time now. And in a couple of weeks or months or years or whatever I'll come back to Shoelace and make the changes I know need to be made, because I do think it can be, will be, a good story. But for now it's just done, and for now that's enough.

Nothing but baby

2009-10-03T19:56:00.004-05:00

The child sleeps in the swing in a 3 months onesie (she's 10 weeks) and dinner is cooking in the oven. It's a real dinner, casserole with salad and cantaloupe on the side--obviously the salad and cantaloupe aren't in the oven--and bread is cooling on the baking rack. We went to the farmer's market and the grocery store today, and took a family nap. Life is getting somewhat back to normal, or at least settling into a new normal. I'm relieved to find the new normal includes going out and doing things (though always on a two-hour time limit, or at least punctuation) and staying in and getting things done. Like baking and cooking. The quilting and spinning are coming very slowly, but they're also coming. They should come in even better when Chloë is older and more independent and can do things like sit in a Johnny Jump-Up, which isn't too far off now.

I'm working on a plan for putting the garden to bed, the better to start over in the spring (though that will be a showcase garden intended to help sell the house), and I've discovered that I can vacuum with the baby in a sling, which is helpful. I'm also taking Zoloft and seeing the counselor for the postpartum depression (which the counselor did diagnose). I'm not totally impressed with the counseling so far--I don't feel like I'm talking about my issues, just answering questions, but maybe that's my own fault. I'm also slightly ashamed about the diagnosis since I still don't think this is so bad, at least in comparison to what I hear other people get, and it doesn't feel like I'm ill so much as that I'm simply a horrible person. But apparently that's what regular depression feels like, too.

So today we shopped; tomorrow I'll bake and cook some more (including rye bread and a smoky pepper-eggplant spread I want to try), and maybe do some garden work, and maybe even do some writing, depending on the child. It turns out she'll sit in my lap and watch me on the computer, but she likes it best when I'm doing something with movement and pretty colors, like World of Warcraft, not simple black-and-white typing. (Babies are supposed to like red. Maybe I should change the font to red and see what she thinks.) Eric's got lesson plans to do, but he can take the kid, too; he doesn't do it enough to make me happy (have I mentioned I'm looking forward to going back to work? Though I'm also unhappy about leaving my child to someone else's care, even though doing the care myself is driving me crazy?) but he does do it. And we're sending her to Mema's (Grandma's) so that we can have a few kidless hours, which I'm going to cherish madly. We've done this twice before; once we went out for dinner and bookstore shopping, and once we did household stuff and I went off to Urgent Care to get antibiotics for mastitis.

M said she hoped I wouldn't be one of those women who talk about nothing but their children. Right now I am, because I'm not doing much of anything else, and I hate it. I'm trying to change it. Keeping up on news would be a good thing--I've fallen way off on that--but getting back to a semblance of a real life will be, too.

PPD, yeah you know me

2009-09-09T19:51:00.001-05:00

The baby's asleep in the swing, Eric's napping in the bedroom, and I'm restless. Motherhood is not really agreeing with me. A couple of weeks ago Eric asked me to go talk to the midwives about possible postpartum depression, and I went, and they're sending me to a counselor--there's been no actual diagnosis, just a sort of a "if you say you're feeling bad let's treat you as if you've got a real problem" attitude, but I guess I can see why they'd do that. I've been having crying fits, mostly over the multiple feeding issues we've been having. (I don't think that's unjustified. These are actual issues, though they're mostly improved at this point.) I've been wondering if I've made a terrible mistake by introducing an element in my life that's displaced almost everything I enjoyed, required almost all of my attention, and given me nothing in return.

Things have gotten a little better in the last week or so; but I'm only just starting to enjoy the baby and see her as more or less mine. I'm hoping they continue to improve. I think they will; I'm still thinking about a second kid eventually and so on, rather than planning to stick to the one or give her up for adoption. We'll see how it goes as she gets older and more fun, and I get more used to this routine.

Ready or not

2009-08-17T20:23:00.001-05:00

So with Eric going back to work (well, new teacher orientation) and Chloe turning four weeks old this week, I was thinking that it was time to start working on my non-baby life. And someone had contacted me about doing freelance work for a new e-zine about Ohio high-tech businesses, which sounded good to me. But now he's sent me the information and two assignments that he wants back by the end of the week, and I'm realizing that (a) there's a bunch of information he hasn't included, like rates (he's given me general ranges, but the contract he sent has a blank where the fee should be), and (b) it's going to be iffy scheduling an interview, even a phone interview, while caring for a baby who may start crying at any moment. Admittedly Chloe has started taking more of an interest in her surroundings and is less likely to cry out of loneliness at least, but still. I'll see if I can schedule things for when Eric's going to be home. Also, (c) I'm not so sure I'm really ready to start working on things with deadlines yet. But I've already agreed to do this (although that was before he sprung the deadlines on me--he originally said this was starting up around Labor Day), so I guess I'm going to be doing it whether I'm ready or not.

The new normal

2009-08-13T15:44:00.004-05:00

Eric has a new job! Again. Ahem. Anyway, he's employed, or will be once he fills out the paperwork, and we have to figure out daycare. I'm not so enthused about the daycare, but we did agree that Eric getting a full-time job was the most preferable option and I don't have to worry about finances anymore (and maybe I can think about getting a netbook/laptop for Christmas, once we've seen the damage of the hospital bills). And I'll be home alone with Chloe after August 24. It'll be interesting. When do babies learn to entertain themselves? Because currently whenever I have to use the bathroom I hand the baby to Eric, but that's not going to be an option in a couple of weeks here and it will be sad to have to put her in the crib and listen to her cry whenever I'm on the toilet.

My parents left Tuesday, and we're getting into a somewhat normal schedule again. It's revolving around the baby and her feedings and naps, of course, but I've actually done some e-mail correspondence and some cleaning, and I intend to go out and pick things in the garden once Eric gets up from his nap. Next week I may even start thinking about my hobbies again. So far I've mostly been reading in my spare time (and eating and drinking; I hadn't realized that lactating was going to make me so hungry and thirsty all the time), but it's about time to reintegrate my old life with the new. And it would be nice to finish Chloe's quilt before my maternity leave is over.

I am a mother.

2009-08-06T19:32:00.004-05:00

I've been trying to write about having a baby, and it isn't working. (Also, typing feels weird. I haven't been on my computer in days and days.) Relatively briefly, then: Chloe was born on Thursday, July 23, after 20.5 hours of labor (starting with my water breaking, which seemed to annoy the midwives inordinately--once that happens, they start worrying about infection) and a tech who asked to observe me at the hospital because she'd never seen anyone trying to do a no-drugs labor before. She was eight pounds, three ounces, supposedly 21 inches (but the pediatrician measured her at 19.75 at her four-day checkup). After the delivery, we got to see the placenta and amniotic sac, which was pretty cool, while I got stitched up; and then I was both ravenous and the sleepiest I've ever been; and then I got food and a nap, and so did Chloe.

We took her home, where we adored her and she was fussy and difficult at feeding times and developed jaundice. It and the fussiness got bad enough that we called the pediatrician, and on the next Friday they looked her over, got a bilirubin and weight check, and ended up sending us to the NICU for phototherapy for her jaundice and weight loss and dehydration. As far as we know it was caused by not feeding her enough, which was caused by a shallow latch and tongue thrust preventing her from feeding well. So I've been feeling horribly guilty. But I'm getting better, and it helps that the phototherapy cleared up the jaundice for the most part and we're now stuffing her full of food, so much so that she gained ten ounces in five days and is back to her birth weight at the two-week mark, right on schedule. The pediatrician says if this keeps up he'll have to have the obesity talk with us sooner than planned.

I enjoy her very much, but I'm still a bit ambivalent about being a mother. I hope this is normal. I'm definitely enjoying being at home, except that my parents are staying with us and my mom is getting on my nerves slightly, which hasn't happened before. (Also she's taken over my kitchen, but since this means I don't have to cook meals it's not so bad.) She's two weeks old today, and I'm starting to feel like it's time to get back to a somewhat normal schedule, rather than spending most of my time reading and napping between feedings. Being a mother definitely doesn't change my interest in my hobbies or my attitude towards housework; it just adds an extra responsibility that has to take precedence. It's weird. But I think I can make it work.

All about late pregnancy

2009-07-21T23:16:00.004-05:00

I'm up late because we're touring a pediatrician's office tomorrow morning and I'm going in to work afterward. Actually, I'm up late because I'm often up late these days, and I'm going into work afterward hoping not to get yelled at because I didn't get a chance to ask permission to do this so I just left a message on my boss's voicemail at about nine o'clock this evening. I do not think he'll yell at me. He doesn't yell. And he's lenient about letting us come in late or leave early for medical reasons and I do not abuse this. And I'm nine months pregnant. And I probably sounded distressed on the phone and maybe he'll think something's up with the pregnancy and will be extra understanding. I think I said "I have a doctor's appointment," which is technically true, but I don't remember for sure.

Our dining room table is a mess right now, due to a box of awesomeness that arrived from M and a baby present from a coworker that both came today. Admittedly the dining room table is often a mess, because Eric's mom always used their dining table as a "put everything down here and shove it into rough piles when you need more horizontal surface area" space and I haven't broken him of the same habit--and, worse, I think I'm starting to pick it up from him. "Thank goodness you're still here!" my coworker had said, and then, when she was leaving, "Thanks for holding off until I got this to you." She was appalled to hear that my doctor will probably wait at least a week beyond my due date to suggest induction.

In other news, there's a huge beetle under a glass on my kitchen floor. I heard something knocking around down there after Eric had left for his weekly gaming night and when I went down, all I found was this gigantic beetle flopping about on its back. I considered a broom, then put the glass over it and considered cardboard to scoop it up; then I decided I would let it die and see what it was before I got rid of it. Also I didn't want to bend over again.

Summer fun

2009-07-13T15:12:00.000-05:00

We're kicking off the summer food season tonight with tabbouleh and fresh pita bread (for dinner) and sweet pickle relish (for experimentation). I'm quite looking forward to both. I've still got a decent amount of energy (though I'm finding myself getting less and less sleep--presumably my body knows what's coming and is weaning me off of it) and this is becoming one of my favorite parts of summer, the doing-things-with-fresh-produce bit. I'm such an adult. But I guess that's better than the alternative.

Interviews

2009-07-09T13:30:00.001-05:00

And another interview today. At least places are still hiring. This is good. We've also got an appointment with a pediatrician--we're supposed to interview them, but I really don't know what to say. "Do you have an actual degree? Can I see your diploma?"

Incidentally, one of my friends just asked me if I planned to vaccinate my child. I think it's sad that she had to ask. Apparently one of her other friends isn't--said friend citing not only the autism non-link, but also "Those diseases aren't around anymore, so why bother?" People worry me.

Waiting, waiting

2009-07-06T14:20:00.000-05:00

Eric didn't get that job, and is waiting on the results of another interview. They were supposed to call him Wednesday or Thursday, so I'm not hopeful. He does have a very good prospect of part-time teaching at the university, so that's something, but we finally pulled the last of his teaching stuff out of his car yesterday and he got very sad at the prospect of not using it again (even if he does get this job, he probably won't have a classroom of his own). He's been sad a lot. So have I, due to stress and pregnancy hormones, though we mostly do a good job of alternating so one of us is available to handle the other. I guess that's a marriage.

I'm about two scenes away from finishing Shoelace but haven't done it, partly because I'm working on nonfiction writing and the baby bumper, partly because I just plain don't want to work on it. Even though I'm in the middle of the climax. It's very strange. But I must finish it before the baby comes so I can ignore it in good conscience; ignoring it is bothering me now. Maybe this week.

I've gotten to the hard bit of pregnancy, where I can't sleep well and my body aches and people I barely know keep asking me the same four questions (Are you excited? When are you due? Do you know if it's a boy or a girl? Do you have names picked out?--though somebody varied it the other day with "Did you really want a girl, or did you not care about the sex?" and I had to stop myself from saying "Actually, we really wanted a boy and hate the idea of a girl; we're not sure whether we're going to keep her"). I'm told this is nature's way of reconciling the new mother to a completely new life (not to mention labor) by making anything preferable to staying pregnant. I'm not sure I've reached that point yet, but I can see it coming. And of course maternity leave will be lovely, assuming the sleep deprivation doesn't send me (or Eric) into psychosis.

Gah. I'm depressing myself and I really don't mean to. I'm doing a lot of waiting lately, so I kind of feel my entire life is on hold, which is never a good feeling, but it's not that bad really. I probably need to do more and worry less--which I imagine is almost always good advice.

Job hunting

2009-06-10T21:12:00.001-05:00

Eric has a job interview! This makes me happy. And him happier, of course. It's next Friday, so I've got plenty of time to take down the hem of the pants of his suit (he put them in the wash accidentally the last time he wore it; they seem to be okay except for being too short now, but Mom was the one who hemmed them so there's enough fabric left over to lengthen them appropriately). He's been looking for science teacher openings but only found two so far, and the other one was filled, so he was especially pleased. I admit to being ever so slightly disappointed that we won't be able to move earlier, and that we'll have to look for serious daycare. This is assuming that he gets the job, of course. I'm sure the competition for this job is more fierce than it would have been a couple of years ago. But I'm hopeful, and so is he, and that's a good thing.

Self-determination

2009-06-03T19:59:00.001-05:00

I'm feeling very restless and dissatisfied. Partly because I took an unintended nap and therefore had less time to do things today than I intended, partly because I didn't want to do the things anyway and was therefore secretly glad for the nap, partly because how can I be secretly anything when all I'm doing is talking to myself in my head? The mind is a strange place to live.

However, we made dinner, and I dug up the part of the garden that needs digging up, and some laundry is folded, and I will get some writing done before I go to bed. Probably also some reading or quilt binding, because my feet are a bit puffy-looking and I should put them up. My new gauge for how to spend my evening is the circumference of my ankles. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than by trying to hide my perfectly audible thoughts from myself.

Demand Studios

2009-06-02T22:31:00.003-05:00

I just signed up for Demand Studios. It's $15 an (approved) article on simple topics, no minimum quotas, so it sounds doable; we'll see how it goes in reality. Eric ordered new $400 glasses today, so extra cash sounds good to me.

In the good old summertime

2009-06-01T21:00:00.003-05:00

Ants found in the office, which is above the kitchen: one. Ants found in the craft room, which is next to the office: one. Ants found in the nursery: one. Orkin Men cursed out because their oh-so-impressive spraying regimen is obviously totally useless: one.

We tried out the lemon ice cream for real tonight. Our conclusions: no-egg ice cream is too soft, at least the way we've made it so far. Maybe with too much cream. It could use a little more sugar. However, it's also intensely flavorful and even with its faults is a darn good dessert. I do like our work. I'm looking forward to full-on summer, I think; the ants will eventually go away (they seem to come out in the spring and fall), and we'll be making more ice cream, and the garden will improve (assuming I can ever get out to weed and to plant the last of the things I want to plant), and everything will be good.

Trying to relax

2009-05-30T14:21:00.003-05:00

Blechh. My calves hurt (three charley horses last night--Eric said, "How is that possible when you only have two legs?") and I'm tired and there's a baby bubbling around in my internal organs. The last bit isn't so bad, except sometimes I wish I could make it stop, and the middle one is a good tired; I went out and worked in the garden and the yard a bit, and that makes me happy. Eric was going to mow the lawn, but his shoulder injury from an old car accident flared up again yesterday (possibly triggered by an irritating episode with his mother and her computer) so he's taking it easy. I'm trying to, too. We went to our first childbirth class on Thursday and I walked out of it crying because the relaxation exercise had triggered a whole bunch of unhappiness I hadn't realized I was carrying around. Eric said, "Apparently neither of us are real good at the relaxing thing," but we're giving it a try.

This weekend we intend to unload the bookcases in the office so that we can replace them with the bigger bookcases in the nursery, and make ice cream. Lemon ice cream. Yummy yummy lemon ice cream. I also intend to make another batch of chai, if there's enough cream left. I made some this past week just because I felt like it, and I think I'm getting close to a good recipe. I'd like to have someone else to get a second opinion (Eric's no good because he doesn't like chai), though I'm not sure why when it's my taste I'm trying to cater to. I think. Anyway, books and ice cream ahead. What could be more relaxing than that?

Chicago

2009-05-26T11:57:00.000-05:00

Chicago is big and interesting and full of toll roads and taxidrivers who love to honk. Even if you're stopped because going forward means running over six or seven pedestrians. Especially then, perhaps. Our last act in Chicago was to get smoothies from Jamba Juice, and since we had our car at the time and there was no street parking available for several blocks and we weren't about to pay $19 to park in a lot for the ten minutes it would take, this involved letting me out quickly at a red light and me calling to read the menu to Eric, then ordering, then calling back when I had our drinks. I stepped outside in time to see Eric on the corner, trying to turn right on a green light but unable to because of the thick stream of pedestrians crossing, and a taxi honking steadily at him from behind. I yelled at the taxi driver, though I doubt he heard me. Then I ran after Eric because he was finally able to turn and couldn't stop, and eventually we met up in an alley halfway down the block. We are not moving to Chicago.

However, the rest of the trip was great. We went to the art museum, which was free on Friday, and laughed at the modern art section--there were a few interesting pieces, but the artistic merit in the majority of them was in the descriptions. A canvas in one or two colors with a couple of big gouges in it: "In Meanderings of my Summer Mind (or whatever), Artist X moved beyond conventional artistic envisioning by transitioning the medium outside of the two-dimensional plane using either of two alternate postmodern techniques--cutting, or [Italian word], and tearing, [other Italian word]--in order to invoke the kinetodynamic realm of motion and shape." There was what looked like the side of a garage, complete with misspelled random words, measurements, and what looked like kids' scrawls, and was described as a masterpiece of modern technique; there was a pile of wrapped hard candy that was described as representing the artist (or artist's friend?) in his struggle with AIDs or cancer; visitors were encouraged to take a piece, thereby representing the gradual eking away of the victim's life; meanwhile, the art museum would restock the candy, representing a "virtual immortality." Eric couldn't get over this one. "Pile of candy!" he would say every once in a while during the rest of our stay.

On Saturday we took a bus to the Museum of Science and Industry and overheard a man haranguing another man about...something; what I really remember is the sentence "Even mammal dinosaurs were feathered, so they're wrong, they're all wrong!" I have no idea whether the second man was a friend of the first one or was just a hapless stranger. We went to Shedd Aquarium--which was okay but not impressive, but our feet hurt so much it didn't really matter--and the Field Museum, which should by rights have taken two or three days, and the planetarium, and the Sears Tower. We walked along the beach and ate at interesting restaurants and had a good time.

And now we are having a good time being home, with our refinished bathtub and lack of need to be standing up for eight hours every day. Contrast is everything, I guess, and vacations are good, but home is very nice indeed.

Chicago bound

2009-05-21T19:46:00.002-05:00

The garden and plants are watered. The clothes are folded. The dishes are mostly done. The snacks are packed. The bathtub is in the process of being refinished. It must be time to go to Chicago. Well, it's time to pack for Chicago. Tomorrow, we take showers at the mothers' (owing to aforementioned bathtub needing three days to dry) and drive away. I'm totally excited. We haven't had a vacation that wasn't visiting family since our honeymoon, which was not a disaster but was not exactly the ideal vacation, what with the panic attack and the severe sunburns and the lack of variety of occupations. (The food was great though.) Yay vacation!

Home comforts

2009-05-17T18:57:00.002-05:00

I am quite tired--pleasantly so, except for the back. I spent a good four hours out in the yard today--mostly doing garden work, but also weeding around the raspberries and the one rose (which may be getting yanked; we'll see how I feel about it). Eric helped out by Round-Up-ing weeds. While we were both out we learned that the neighbors have such frequent parties (a few times a week) partly because one of them is a Pampered Chef salesperson (whatever they're called). If I'd known that before I would have inquired whether Pampered Chef has angel food pans any better than the Baker's Secret ones.

Alas, I didn't; so Eric got one from Kroger today, because we were bound and determined to have angel food cake with sugared strawberries and homemade French vanilla ice cream tonight. And so we shall. The strawberries are macerating, the ice cream is setting, the cake is cooling. We've just finished dinner, tacos. I don't mind quick meals on the weeknights, mostly, as long as it doesn't descend into "What do you want?" "I don't know, what do you want?" "I don't know. Pasta?" which it too often does. I'm sick of pasta. But I'm really liking a more work-intensive, well-rounded meal on Sundays. Followed by dessert is even better. A dessert that kicks off the ice-cream-making season is better still.

Reviews

2009-05-11T11:18:00.000-05:00

I read Theodore Sturgeon's The Dreaming Jewels over the weekend. It's one of the books I didn't realize Eric (well, we) had but noticed when we moved books out of the nursery last week. I keep hearing that Sturgeon is a fantastic and phenomenal writer, and I've read two of his books now and I'm disappointed. It was a nice book, as was the other one (More Than Human), but they're not mind-bending and illuminating and everything that people say they are. Apparently he goes with Heinlein in my mind as a class of over-hyped writers. I wonder if this is because I'm so used to contemporary writing, or because I have a different viewpoint from the people who admire their work, or what.

We saw Star Trek on Friday (I think Eric was disappointed there was no line or anything to get in, but the theater did fill up respectably) and it's a decent movie as a movie, but not as part of Star Trek canon, according to Eric. The things that bugged him were things I didn't know (ages were off, Kirk wasn't born on a starship, etc.), but there were definitely flaws in it as a movie; there were some logical inconsistencies and not much character development except a little in Spock, and it felt like it was stuck between trying to appeal to the older Star Trek fans (especially bringing in all the main characters, who are all ridiculously young and all geniuses at their jobs despite being ridiculously young, to the ship at the same time) and to newer, young fans (too much flash and fun without logic to back it up). Also, it technically passed the Bechdel-Wallace test, but only technically, and I really didn't like that the only major female character was reduced to a love interest and nothing else, despite also being ridiculously young and a genius at her job. I did think the actor who played McCoy was fantastic, though.

I also made the sourdough onion rye bread and it's pretty good, but it needs work.

Mundanely better

2009-05-07T21:10:00.003-05:00

Another bout of last-minute kid-watching today. "We'll make it up to you," my mother-in-law said, looking down at my burgeoning belly. "Won't we?" (I've swelled up in just the last couple of weeks or so to suddenly looking distinctly pregnant. It's weird, but I think it's better than when I just looked overweight. More overweight, anyway.) Despite that, I'm feeling quite a bit better. I talked to Eric about my resentment and worry, and I took my glucose test, and I've finally got the tomatoes out into the garden, and I'm working on the thank-you letters. The desk is still more crowded than I like--messy workspace means messy mind to me, so it makes me all scatterbrained and irritable--but I'm getting it under control.

I made bread today, plain wheat sandwich bread, but it was nice to do. And tomorrow I'm going to make sourdough onion-rye bread, which totally excites me. I might have to actually bake it Saturday, as Eric wants us to go to opening night of the Star Trek movie, but that's all right too. We're going up to see some friends Saturday, but not until the afternoon, and in the morning I planned to go to the farmer's market for salad fixings and strawberry plants anyhow, so it all works out. Now the only thing really wrong is that I've got a slight headache from eating too many Nerds.

Grumpy pregnant lady

2009-05-05T11:19:00.001-05:00

I was a total grumpy pregnant lady last night, caused partly by wearing maternity clothes to work (they were fairly comfortable physically but not at all psychically. I have issues, I know) and exacerbated by a last-minute all-evening babysitting gig for the eleven-year-old stepsister-in-law for no good reason (and the two-year-old niece for a good reason, but only for a couple of hours and we'd agreed to that earlier) and annoying dogs at the mothers' house. I'm not a dog person anyway, and slobbery tongues and noses all over my pants and hands just as I was finally sitting down to the dinner I had to argue to be allowed to prepare even though everyone else was hungry and wanted what I suggested did not make me any more so.

Ahem. I really am slightly better this morning, though not a lot.

Today Eric has promised to mow the lawn and build a bookcase. I do not actually believe he'll get both of these things done, but I hope to be wrong. We bought three bookcases from Target a couple of weeks ago for the purpose of moving the library out of what'll now be the baby's room while still leaving a couple of small bookcases for the baby's stuff (not to mention her own books--she only has five or six at the moment, aside from the kids' books that I still consider mine, but that will change). Our dream house will have a dedicated library with built-in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. (And a secret passage.) In the meantime, we're lining the dining room with cheap bookcases. If we ever get them built. There's also a corn syrup slick in the pantry to clean up, and a mouse to poison or track down and shoot, and a whole bunch of other work to be done. Part of my grumpiness last night (and this morning) was also due to the neverending messiness and dirtiness of the kitchen and the house in general. Why are we homeowners? Arrgh.

To be honest, I think I'm disgruntled because I don't think I should have to be the one to work. Or rather, not the only one to work. Not twice in two years. Not when the house isn't any cleaner or better kept than when we were both working. Eric said on the way home from Penguicon that he was wondering whether he shouldn't just stay home with the baby next school year (and maybe teach lab part-time at the university) instead of getting a job. We need to talk more about this--it would be nice if it doesn't drive him crazy and we can afford it, but I wonder if he's really considering it because he's afraid of not finding a job, or of being dismissed a third time if he does--but I'm feeling all kinds of unattractive things when I think about it. I want to be the one to stay home. I didn't have to worry so much about money when I was unmarried. I do all this emotional caretaking already, I don't see why I have to be the sole breadwinner and the household manager too. I want someone to lean on, not someone to support. I'm a woman and a wife and I'm not supposed to have to do everything.

I hate that I feel this way. It's really not that bad; I’m just disgruntled and tired and anxious, and also the baby's hiccups resonate in my bones and I have to go take a glucose test and I still can't eat much cheese so mealtimes are difficult. (Not because I can't cook without cheese, but because our shared meals often involve it, especially in the winter, so if we want to eat something together there's a limited selection to choose from and if we decide to eat separately Eric invariably says he'll just have some chicken nuggets/a ham steak/Testosteroni/a banana and a cookie, and he's lost seven pounds since February so I really want him to eat better than that. And if I suggest making something that I won't eat he protests, like with dinner last night. I'm glad summer's coming, and that we can get to the farmer's market this Saturday.) I'm going to skip the glucose test today--I have no appointment; I just need to show up at the lab sometime this week--and go talk to Eric before I start yelling at him, which I don't want to do. And maybe bake some bread. That might make me feel better.

Penguicon 7.0

2009-05-03T19:19:00.006-05:00

We're back from Penguicon, plus a long nap. Penguicon was fun--the hotel was large but not quite large enough, so apparently a bunch of people had to stay in neighboring hotels and the game rooms were smaller than people would have liked, but oh well. They had the consuite on the first floor, which was nice, but it wasn't as well-supplied as the Confusion one and closed before the con did, which annoyed us. And I never did get to the nitrogen ice cream. But there were interesting panels and interesting people, and a live performance of "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog" (with a few scenes cut out, to dispense with characters, I think). The lead was fantastic--he sang well, he acted well, he interacted with the audience and rolled with technical goof-ups well. The woman who played Penny sang beautifully but didn't have any lines otherwise, and the man who played Captain Hammer did his best but didn't sing nearly as well as would have been nice. He did have the right attitude, though. Somebody in the row behind us commented about halfway through, "If this were better it wouldn't be nearly as good."

The workshop was most of what I did--nine to twelve-thirty on Saturday and ten to one-thirty on Sunday--and was interesting; I've never done an in-person writing workshop before. I now know that I need to write up my critiques differently, at least for presenting out loud--we each had about three minutes (supposedly) for talking about each piece we critiqued, and that called for a summary rather than a detailed description. I learned a lot from doing the critiques, and from hearing other people critique--especially the facilitators, Jim Hines and Catherynne Valente. I apparently have no confidence issues as a reader so it didn't bother me that my takes were different from other people's, but it was interesting to hear how we differed. I got some very useful feedback on my own story (the beginning of Shoelace), which, fortunately, doesn't seem to necessitate giving up or redoing the whole thing, which is nice since I should be very close to finishing the first draft. (Also learned that Festivus is something from Seinfeld? I used it as a name for a holiday but three or four people commented on it, so evidently I'm going to have to find something else. This is the problem with never watching TV: not knowing pop references.)

Tonight I'm unwinding (we ordered a pizza, despite an annoying bill from the OB/GYN, because I just don't have the energy to think of something to cook) and finishing up an article for the business journal I've been doing occasional freelance work for. The source for this article wouldn't do the interview unless I promised to send him the rough draft before sending it in, so I did, but he hasn't responded and it's due tomorrow, so he's out of luck.

Bread, someday

2009-04-20T21:55:00.002-05:00

I need to make bread. It's been a long time--and my starter is looking awfully dark on top. We have some rye and a baguette in the freezer, plus a loaf of sandwich bread--sandwich bread is all I've been making lately. I'm not sure why. Too many hobbies, maybe--and the kitchen has been a constant battle against the dishes and the mice (all is quiet at the moment, but I'm not sure I believe they're vanquished yet) since the first of the year. But I'm also sick of Wheat Thins and graham crackers (my serial mainstays for snacking at work), and I miss artisan-style bread.

Unfortunately I don't think I'm doing it anytime soon--I'm leaving for Seattle on Saturday, and need to finish a quilt by then, and I wanted to finish Shoelace by Penguicon which means it needs to be nearly done by then as well. I've been doing well with my daily word count and I really am near the end, but not near enough that I'm confident I can do it. (And I've been asked to watch my stepsister-in-law tomorrow, which is when Eric goes to Ann Arbor so it's prime work-on-my-own-projects time.) So spare time is not to be had this week. Maybe late next week I'll make some good sour sourdough...or ciabatta...or garlic-rosemary bread...

Signs of spring

2009-04-18T23:59:00.002-05:00

I do believe I'm sunburned. I spent some time in the sun today, working in the garden while Eric repaired the garage roof...and come to think of it, sitting on a bench with some friends at the farmer's market. I forget about sunburn every year (kind of like weeding), but yeah, that may well be why my arms are red and itchy. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and clear and 70 or so. I put out some plants because it's not supposed to get lower than 36 for the next week, and stay reasonably warm except for a few days of high-40s weather. It was freezing last week, so I'm very glad for the change...though as I told Eric, we don't seem to get spring here so much as schizophrenia.

Home again, home again

2009-04-12T22:04:00.002-05:00

Back from the trip. It went pretty well, except for my getting dizzy and woozy at the airport (causing my traveling companion much concern, though once she realized I was pregnant and not sick I think she felt better, and I took better care in the other airports we visited), and I met a bunch of clients and learned how we do our sales. I was so glad to be home, though--even though I ate better while on the road than I do at home. Our last dinner was at a Ruth's Chris steakhouse, where I had a wonderful tomato-and-onion salad and potatoes Lyonnaise (?) and a chocolate cake with ice cream and caramel sauce. We had to walk around for half an hour afterward just to get comfortable enough to go back to our rooms. I'd like to go back to downtown Ft. Worth, incidentally. It looked like a nice place, and the manager of the restaurant told us about a number of fun things we could have gone and done if we'd had more time.

We visited some friends on Saturday and met their little son, and got a big bag of baby stuff that they'd had donated to them and didn't want (they also received four bathtubs between friends and showers, so we got one). Today we cleaned the house a bit and spent most of the day with Eric's family, which was nice in that our niece was being adorable but annoying in that most of the entertainment involved watching a few of us play the Wii in a room that was too small to contain everybody. Ah well. It was a nice day, overall. It's been a nice break from work; it's been nine days since I was last in the office. I peeked at my work e-mail from home and it doesn't look too bad, for as long as I've been gone, but I'm in no danger of having a slow day tomorrow.

Disconnected

2009-04-05T21:26:00.001-05:00

My Palm Tungsten T2 is dead. Much sadness abounds. It's not actually dead; I just can't get it to connect to my computer; but for my purposes (writing while on a business trip I'm leaving for tomorrow), that's the same thing. I suppose I should have looked into it before, like maybe when I got my new hard drive...but oh well. I've been coveting one of those hardcover-sized netbooks, like Jen's got, but don't have the money for it, so no replacement is forthcoming. Which means it's up to my notebook and pen and abysmal handwriting, I guess.

Cooking up something good

2009-03-31T19:34:00.002-05:00

Blechh. I have eaten too much dinner. It's good dinner--I actually cooked, which isn't happening as much lately as it ought--but there were too many carrots and, um, mint M&Ms while I was waiting. I had my first appointment with the new doctor (midwives actually) today and if their scale is calibrated the same as the old one, I really need to knock off the M&Ms (the carrots are probably fine).

I was supposed to go clothes shopping today while Eric's up in Ann Arbor at gaming night, but I didn't feel like going anywhere--and there was nothing quick to grab for dinner, anyway, hence the cooking. Instead I'm reading. I also need to write and to quilt. I was contemplating switching out Here, Fishy Fishy for the next quilt for my cousin (Balloon Flight, I think) because her due date is nearing and HFF was all finished, but now I've got a reasonably firm date to see the recipient of HFF so I've got to have both quilts finished within ten days anyway, so it doesn't really make sense to switch. So there must be quilting tonight, because I'm going to be gone next week on a business trip which will make getting to my sewing machine difficult.

I'm taking part in a writing workshop at Penguicon the first weekend in May, and as part of it I'm supposed to critique the other participants' stories. I've finished two, and finding that a thorough critique really does take a lot of time and concentration. I'm enjoying it, though. I also find it helps me want to write more myself. I'm not sure whether part of it is to reassure myself that I write better than they do; I peeked at the third story and I think it's going to be much better than these two, so we'll see how I feel when I'm through that one. Either way, I may want to give some thought to joining a writer's group, because I think just doing the critiques is helping me--that's why I applied to be part of the workshop in the first place.

Various weirdness

2009-03-22T21:03:00.003-05:00

I woke up crying this morning. I'm pretty sure my hormones shifted during the night, causing me to have a sad dream; I don't know whether the crying was from the dream or the sadness itself, since the urge to cry wouldn't go away for quite a while. This pregnancy thing is weird.

I'm also having an urge to share the dream itself, even though I keep tearing up again when I think about it, and I didn't with Eric because it was about him and he didn't ask when I told him why I was sad and solicited a hug. So here it is:

Eric was dead. The circumstances were confusing, in typical dream-fashion, involving the placement of eight long wooden rods over a monkey-bars-like frame, but it had killed him and I knew that it had been either an accident or suicide, but I wasn't sure which, and not knowing was torturing me. I was then given an opportunity to step into a parallel universe for a short time to try to find out. (Do people who don't read SF have these kinds of SF elements in their dreams?)

I accepted the opportunity and found Eric. He was very happy to see me because in his universe we'd had a big misunderstanding (similar to the one we actually had at the beginning of our relationship) and had just figured things out. In the course of talking about this he mentioned the accident he had almost had, so I knew he hadn't been trying to kill himself. He kept apologizing for the time we'd lost during the misunderstanding and saying that now we had so much ahead of us, and I didn't say otherwise because I didn't want to disrupt his happiness, but I knew that soon I'd have to go back to my own universe where he was dead.

It sounds tame, but it was horrible--though much more coherent than a lot of my dreams, I notice, and I could probably make a good story out of it if I were a different kind of writer. I think I'd like to just try to forget it, however, except maybe to note that while I'm quite sure that I love Eric, it tends to hit me most viscerally when I'm feeling I've lost him (as before during The Situation, when I once told him I was severing communications--I meant to do it for six months but didn't get farther than twenty-four hours). This love thing is weird, too.

A little birdhouse in your soul

2009-03-17T22:25:00.002-05:00

I find that I don't have any pictures of the Here, Fishy Fishy quilt. I still have the quilt (sadly, we've canceled three attempts to go see the recipient), so that's okay, but since I still have it and the recipient doesn't, I shan't show it yet. But that's not the case for 2009 baby quilt #2, which has the extremely cumbersome name Build a Little Birdhouse in Your Soul, after a song I've never heard the original artists (They Might Be Giants) play but which Eric sings to me every once in a while for no reason at all.

The background fabric was a bear to work with but I'm very pleased with how it turned out, and my fear of applique is a bit lessened. I'm in the pre-sewing stages of 2009 baby quilt #3, meaning I have the templates ready but haven't sat down and cut things out to try a block yet. It's a fairly simple quilt, nine blocks of the same pattern and simple sashing, so my delay in starting it shouldn't be disastrous, even though the baby that quilt is destined for is due in less than a month. I hope. It depends on how long the delay goes.

I must say I'm loving all these baby quilt projects though. They go so fast! They're so easy to manipulate in the machine! They're only going to get drooled on so intricate detailing is foolish anyway!

Every day an opportunity

2009-03-03T19:44:00.002-05:00

My current job has been great for me, skill-development-wise. I'm talking to someone about a potential editing/proofreading gig (my information was posted on the AMA website ages ago when I was doing a lot of editing and proofreading for my job at the time, and it's still up there, and I get occasional queries) and they want some sort of official document mentioning intellectual property rights, and I know exactly what to do--send a prework agreement with their and my contact information and the necessary verbiage, make them sign it before I start work, and issue an invoice afterward. I'm not afraid to talk on the phone anymore, and I know how to sound like I know what I'm talking about without actually giving any information. (Maybe that last one isn't unadulteratedly positive, but it's come in handy before and I bet it will again.)

This week

2009-03-02T21:13:00.001-05:00

This week shall be Home Improvement week. We went to Home Depot to kick it off and got a tub refinishing kit, shelves for the craft room (so that the spare bed can go in there instead of in the nursery), new shelves for the bathtub (because the old one was utter garbage), and foam insulation and screening to, along with plaster we already have, patch up the mouse hole. We shall Improve our House, or at least Keep It From Falling to Bits.

We shall also visit hospitals--my doctor would have us go to Toledo Hospital, which would be fine except Eric's mom got all in a lather about Toledo and got Eric worried about it, so we're touring them, and Bay Park, and Flower (though Eric has to call that one because it's far away and has an annoying name and I wanted him to do at least part of the work since I would have been happy to stick with Toledo Hospital, especially since that means being able to stick with my current doctor). And Eric has a bunch of doctor's appointments that all somehow ended up being this week. It shall be a busy week. Maybe it'll be good for us for a change.

Dear Diary, he'll write, why can't I have a normal wife?

2009-02-26T23:39:00.003-05:00

"I'll be so glad when it's 2011," I said as I sat with my sewing-box in one hand and my latest baby quilt in the other.

"Um?" said Eric, staring intently at the computer (i.e., behaving normally).

"It'll be so much easier signing quilts," I explained. "I hate making zeros."

In the abstract

2009-02-18T13:44:00.000-05:00

Eric's been craving bacon for a while now. (I call couvade syndrome. Aren't I the one who's supposed to be having cravings?) He finally bought some over the weekend from Andersons, where he prefers to get meat (and we both prefer to get produce), and fried it up last night. "It smells good," I said, and as he always does whenever I say that about meat, he offered me some. I declined, and something occurred to me that hadn't before: I don't really think of meat as food. For me, that is. It can have a nice smell that reminds me of a good restaurant or (in this case) Sunday breakfasts when I was a kid, but that doesn't make me want to eat it. "It's like the way I imagine a gay man feels about a pretty woman," I told Eric. "Abstract admiration, but no interest in partaking."

I had a long weekend, since I was taking my February days off this week so that I could be here next week while one of my coworkers is traveling, and we spent Monday and Tuesday doing household things (shopping and trying to repair a leaky spigot--we need insulation protection gear before proceeding) and sleeping late. It was lovely. I asked Eric what time he was getting up this morning, since he planned to visit a couple of school district administrative offices, and he said, "We should probably try to get up before nine." I reminded him that I had to go to work in the morning, but I thought wistfully that it would be wonderful not to have to. Would we get tired of each other? I don't know. Would I get more done? I hope so. I did some quilting and some writing and some laundry, so it wasn't a wasted couple of days by any means (not to mention the shopping and household repairs), but I always think I could have done more than I did.

This week: finish the spigot repair, write, quilt, plant broccoli, plan my planting schedule, make sure Eric does something every day. He really seems to want the structure that having work gives to his day; he's not enjoying the time off as I wish he could, though I understand why. Also, the sooner he figures out the substituting thing, the sooner we can decide whether I can buy plane tickets to go visit my family in April.

Possibly one of the sexiest things my husband has ever said.

2009-02-11T22:48:00.002-05:00

Certainly the sexiest said while in an all-male World of Warcraft raid chat:

"The misogyny in this conversation is getting to be a little much."

Discuss.

You go back, Jack, do it again

2009-02-07T13:57:00.005-05:00

Eric's been fired. We don't know why--the principal did it, but refused to give a reason and seemed ill-at-ease, Eric says. He asked what happened about the four weeks he was promised and the principal wouldn't answer. He's very unhappy, of course--this is the second time this has happened, though less explicably this time around, and he really liked this job and this school and his kids. This happened after school Friday, so he didn't get to say goodbye to his students, but he did tell a few teachers and the quiz bowl team he helps coach, and they were shocked and sad. He's been apologizing to me a lot. I couldn't figure out how to stop him until he said it again this morning, before leaving to pack up his classroom, and I said, "I'm sorry. I'm not concerned about myself except for you." He said, "That helps." I guess I never actually said "I'm sorry you lost your job." I would say I'll remember it for next time, but I hope there isn't one. Twice is enough.

I am worried about money again, because I was told Friday morning that everyone in the company is now required to take four days off of work a month until further notice. I can cover mine with vacation until the end of March, and it turns out that Eric's paychecks will continue coming until then (since teachers work ten months but get paid across twelve), so we've got some breathing room. We're going to tighten expenses and such immediately, of course, and save as much as we can. I'd planned to go back to Washington in late April for a short trip with my cousin Bev and a baby shower and to see my other cousin Jaime's new baby, and we're going to have to see whether I can still do it. There's every chance Eric will be able to get a job as a substitute teacher, so money may not be a very big issue after all, but I'll be happier once we see the numbers and know what he can expect work-wise for the interim.

On the good side, it's warm here--forties--and the backyard is melting, which means I may be able to get to my garden again to dump the compost bin, which has been moldering under my sink for weeks. And my energy and appetite are returning, which means that we'll be able to tackle some household projects that need doing (though some will also have to be budgeted for--but the cleaning-type stuff will be free). Also, brownies sounded good to me the other day, which means my pregnancy-induced disdain for chocolate may be coming to an end. That's definitely a good thing.

The menagerie

2009-02-02T22:59:00.006-05:00

The current baby quilt (Fishy, Fishy) is inching towards completion. It doesn't help that I realized that I cut one of my templates and therefore sixteen pieces wrong, and unfortunately they're all too small instead of too big. I realized I never posted a picture of James's quilt, so here it is on my bed:

(Please ignore the mess on the floor. That's Eric's side.) I like the watercolor technique a lot, now that I know better how to use it.

The kitchen is finally almost clean, but the mice are still around. This despite the twelve (no kidding) traps we laid out around the kitchen. I'm quite tired of having the contents of my pantry piled on top of the chest freezer (for one thing, bread and flour go in there, since there's not enough room in the regular freezer) and of having vermin in the house, but we're not sure what to do. Today I saw one skitter across the floor and climb up a hole between cupboards, and I swear it did it on purpose to avoid the glue trap that would otherwise have been in its way. I moved the trap directly below the hole but I have a feeling the mice are too smart for us and we'll never get rid of them. Until I give up and call in the poison, anyway.

Eric's job may be in danger again...his principal told him that he's giving too many Fs and not enough As, and he should do something about it. Anything. Or else. He's told a couple of people at work and they're highly displeased, but not shocked, so apparently his new employers aren't as much better as his old ones as we'd have liked. He was potentially going to be out of a job next school year anyway, since there are statewide education budget cuts and he's a new teacher, but now we're pretty much planning on it, and working out what we'll do if he doesn't get another teaching job at a different school (which, with the budget cuts, is looking unlikely). We did this last year and were okay, but of course we'll have a baby around this time...but if he stays home and maybe picks up some community college classes to teach at night, we'll be saving some $6000-$7000 on childcare anyway and earning a few thousand. And we've been saving money. And I'm working on the freelancing, though not as much as I should. We should be okay; I just wish adulthood weren't so complicated.

I do not want to

2009-01-29T19:25:00.002-05:00

I do not want to write. Or order seeds, which needs doing shortly. Or clean, though I'm starting to hate the filthiness of the house more than the act of cleaning. I want to sit, and read, and eat citrus. (Seriously, two or three pieces a day for the past what, month? except when we run out and I haven't gone to the store beforehand.) I'm starting to get over this, but slowly. As a result, baby quilt #1 is behind. Writing is way behind (though I'm rereading Shoelace, and I'm going to send in the first few pages to apply to the Penguicon writing workshop, mainly because I think critiquing other people's work would be really good for me right about now). I'm not even thinking about knitting or spinning except in fitful moments. I can't honestly say for sure whether it's pregnancy or winter doldrums.

But I do seem to be coming out of it, bit by bit. I've got a guest gardening post to write (and my garden blog to update); I've got an article to write about the National Association of Women in Construction; I've done a lot of laundry and some dishes, and pieced some quilt blocks. Next I need to call Bev, to see whether we're going to arrange a girls' weekend out this spring or if I should just invite myself over for a visit, and clear the old interview notes off my desk.

Calloo! Callay!

2009-01-20T14:09:00.000-05:00

We have a new president!

New year, old news

2009-01-13T12:38:00.001-05:00

I am tired and irritable about eating. (Only four things never sound gross: oranges, grapefruit, crackers, and toast. Of course I'm tired of those things now.) There are twelve mousetraps around the kitchen; we found a missing trap under the stove (dead mouse included) and caught another one, which I discarded, and immediately heard the scrabbling of another behind the garbage bin, which left us only the one from the Orkin man which hadn't caught any, so we cleaned everything and put out more traps. Nothing yet.

I was supposed to go on a business trip today, but the person I was going with injured her knee shoveling snow (we got about ten inches between Friday and Saturday; another three or so expected tonight) and can't drive, so it was cancelled. Probably a good thing. I'm tired and irritable, as mentioned above, and the house is a mess. And I'd like to make some apple turnovers, since I haven't made a treat for Eric in a while and it actually sounds pretty good to me too.

I'm working on my first of four baby quilts for this year. This one's a fishy theme: a kind-of-checkerboardy watery background with some large and some small fish swimming around. I love my little fish. It would make a great bigger quilt, but I'd never have the patience. This one needs to be done by February 1, so there's another reason to be glad I'm not going on the trip. I have no knitting project at the moment, which feels very weird. I'm going to have to decide on one. I'm considering making my niece some mittens, since she came by the other day (her grandmother decided to dress her up for a walk in the snow and brought her over because she looked so cute bundled up) dressed very warmly except that her tiny mittens were falling off because the cuffs were so short. I might also make myself some socks. Or start on a baby sweater. Or even work on the gloves for Eric that I've been planning to do for over a year. Decisions, decisions.

Ring in the new

2009-01-05T11:26:00.000-05:00

Happy 2009! Other than not having done dishes since last year, things are well in my house. --Oh, and not cleaning up the mouse droppings. We caught another one and I'm hoping that was it, but we're keeping the traps out and I'll see if more droppings appear. I don't know why cleaning was so low on my list of things to do when all I had was a single party and a single article to deal with.

Except that's not true. I also had early-pregnancy nausea and tiredness (not to mention abundant food aversions) to deal with. Our IUI worked on the first try and I'm eleven weeks in. I go to the doctor to hear the heartbeat tomorrow. I'm terrified that I'll go and be told that the embryo (now a fetus) died six weeks ago, but I looked that up--it's called a missed abortion or a delayed miscarriage, depending on how scared you are of the word "abortion"--and it's accompanied by loss of pregnancy symptoms, and green vegetables are grossing me out as much as they ever have (which was not at all until a few weeks ago, when I of course had plenty of them in the fridge because up until then I'd had no food aversions and was delighted to be getting my healthy meals in), so that is probably not really likely. My fingers are crossed anyway.

My goals for 2009 are pretty much the same ones as my goals for 2008: work on nonfiction, work on fiction, have a baby, get the house in shape, don't drive myself crazy with crafts. I think I did pretty well in 2008, especially on the nonfiction side. Not as well as I would have liked, but it's probably good for me not to hit all my goals; it means I didn't set them too low.

Merry Christmouse

2008-12-30T21:28:00.004-05:00

So the mouse was not gone. Or at any rate a mouse was not gone, as we discovered when we trooped into the house at about 1:15 AM, having picked up my parents at the train station. They flew American Airlines, and after a delay in Seattle (due to O'Hare traffic, apparently, even though Seattle was getting what I believe was its worst snow on record) landed in O'Hare at about 1 PM to find that their connecting flight was cancelled. They were 66th on the standby list. American booked them on a flight for 7:30 PM the next night--Christmas Eve--which would have been a 30-hour wait in the airport. American offered no hotel or food vouchers. "Are we supposed to spend the night in the airport, then?" Dad asked, and the attendant said vaguely, "I hope not. We're sorry about this."

So I called six or seven rental places and found nobody had any cars to rent. Dad said he didn't want us to drive with the weather the way it was, so Eric and his mom checked Amtrak and bought two of the last train tickets out of Chicago, and Mom and Dad went off to the train station. We'd had to get first-class tickets, but that meant they got to go into a quiet lounge with free drinks rather than stand outside with the poor souls who were also stuck in Chicago but didn't have the travel staff Mom and Dad did and so were vainly begging for coach seats. Apparently a steak dinner with dessert was included, and they got a sleeper compartment to themselves, so it was actually quite nice. And they didn't have to spend thirty hours at the airport.

"The mouse isn't gone," Eric said when we stood there in the kitchen. "I just saw it run across the room."

I elected to totally ignore the problem until Mom and Dad had left, and the mouse--mice--fortunately decided to do the same. We had a nice visit--a little noisy the first two days since we were having two big holiday dinners with Eric's family, and then very quiet the next two. I got some con T-shirts and an enameled cast-iron pot and some books I've been wanting, plus a copy of The Bible According to Mark Twain, which I used to own but lost years ago--I left it with either James or Dad to read, but I can't remember which and both deny any knowledge of it, and neither ever found it again. Dad finally decided he'd heard enough of my complaining (though that's not how he said it) and bought me another copy, which pleased me to no end.

Mom and Dad got home without any trouble, although they decided to take flight vouchers for taking a later flight in O'Hare. Since they vowed never to fly American again I can only assume they're going to give them to James.

Yesterday after work we went and bought traps, some classic and some glue traps, and put them down. Then we went upstairs into the computer room. Not long after I came down and called to Eric, "We caught a mouse!" These glue traps are apparently great stuff. But it doesn't kill them, and despite the "anesthesia" advertised on the box this one was struggling. Eric and I discussed humane ways of dispatching it--I didn't want to let it starve to death--or die of thirst, though I think that's just a semantic difference with mice since they don't drink--and Eric ended up taking it outside and crushing its skull with a hammer.

Not long after I was in the pantry making my lunch and another mouse decided it would be a great time to rummage between the bread and the chips. "We definitely had more than one!" I said when Eric rushed down to see whether the shriek I'd emitted was because I'd been murdered. I put a glue trap up on the counter but no luck yet.

I'm really pissed off at that particular mouse. On the floor is annoying, but within the bounds of acceptability. On my counter means war. Also, what is the damn thing eating? There aren't any holes in the bread or chips or rice as far as I can see, but there are droppings so it's clearly eating something. M--f-- b-- mice.

Merry things

2008-12-22T09:54:00.000-05:00

The weekend was busy with candy-making and cookie-making and hiring my stepsister-in-law to clean the house. (She's 11. She worked about three hours, including helping us with wrapping 220 caramels, and hung around for a few more helping with putting up decorations. I asked what she was going to charge and she hemmed and hawed and settled on $2 an hour. I gave her a twenty and, possibly, apoplexy.) We finally got our tree decorated last night. Next year I will begin the tree-buying process on December 3 or so, so that we can actually get it up by the time I want it (around December 15, which is when we actually bought our tree, but then it didn't go up for almost a week and then Eric was too tired to want to decorate and so on).

We got some good news in the mail: Anthem has overturned the denial of coverage on my HSG, so we won't be losing that $3600 after all. It will take a while for them to process the claims, of course, but then we'll get our money back from the hospital and doctor's office, or maybe apply it toward future service. I'm pleased. I wasn't looking forward to continuing that fight. (I wonder if this is why our insurance is going up next year. In fact I'm losing my very nice 100% coverage plan because my employer decided it was just too expensive to continue. I won't tell them it might be my fault.)

In other good news, the mouse is gone. It was getting bolder: not only taking the peanut butter from the traps without springing the traps, but darting from the pantry to the back entry (where the garbage can and recycling bins are) to under the stove while we were in the kitchen banging things around. Yesterday morning I was in the kitchen and noticed it run from the stove to the entry. Then I saw it creep into my garden tote. So I very slowly opened the back door, picked up the tote, and put it outside. I'd better check it before the weather gets warmer, since a frozen mouse body in my bag is bad enough but a thawed, decomposing one would be much worse and I like that bag.

Today, I'm finishing two socks (one for Mom, one for Dad) and a batch of cookies, and putting some last things away before my parents get here tomorrow. And then I'm on Christmas break. I've been so envious of Eric and his two-week break; it was so hard getting up quietly to go to work today. I only have to do it again tomorrow and then I won't for nearly a week.

How to choose your Christmas tree very, very quickly.

2008-12-16T10:01:00.001-05:00

1. Go to the tree lot when it's 20 degrees out and windy.

2. Forget your hat.

When the homeowners are away, the mice will play

2008-12-11T10:07:00.001-05:00

We canned apple pie filling a few days ago. It was a total disaster--one of the jars broke in the canner and then when I pulled out the rest they all oozed filling over the counter, so most of it's in the freezer now and I'm trying to decide whether I failed to secure every lid properly or whether I should blame the ClearJel--but it also gave us valuable but annoying information: we have, or had, a mouse. Or mice.

When I opened the drawer to get the quart jars I found a few pellets of what were undeniably mouse droppings in it. I cussed a little and got the jars out to be sterilized, and then I opened other drawers. The one below the jar drawer drew more enthusiastic cussing. It's where I keep the candy-making supplies I got for my wedding shower, and it was practically filled with droppings. We discovered later that the lower shelf of the storage under the counters also had droppings, and the bag of basmati rice had been nibbled and defecated into. (Luckily it wasn't a full bag--we keep most of our rice in a Tupperware container and the bag only held what wouldn't fit.) Eric ran out of Pop-Tarts before we thought he would (we stocked up at a good sale) and I'd swear the mouse/mice got that, too, except we can't find any wrappers.

We intended to get mousetraps yesterday, but went haircutting and Christmas shopping instead. Today I get the mousetraps (and make turnovers from the apple pie filling that's still in the fridge) and maybe some antibacterial spray for the drawers. I'm not sure how much that will help--I also have paint, which might be better--but we do need the space. Even if apple pie filling is out of our reach, we do just fine with pickles and apple butter.

Back and better than ever before

2008-12-04T12:31:00.002-05:00

Thanksgiving was lovely, except that I hardly saw my parents. Next time I'll arrange timing better. But I made cookies to last them until they come out here for Christmas, and I got to see my relatives and enjoy my native Washington for a few days. It's looking increasingly unlikely that we're moving this summer, and that makes me sad. I'm going to have to schedule more visits next year if I can.

In happier news, I've turned in my second business profile article. This one was harder--the interviewee didn't like the idea of being interviewed, and really wanted to read the article before I sent it. I agreed to send her the rough draft though everyone says don't, and was rewarded with the knowledge of why everyone says don't. She wanted me to change things, to alter the focus, to remove her name from some things...she did correct a couple of important things and give me more information in the second conversation, though. Lessons learned:

don't let interviewees read your work unless you're prepared to explain why you can't make the changes what they want (I did okay on that, I think--and I did do a couple of harmless things she wanted)
always record interviews (I didn't because she was so reluctant, and that's why those things needed correcting--either that or she told me the wrong thing, but I can't tell for sure because I don't have a record of exactly what she said, just my notes)

I immediately got another assignment upon turning this one in. This one isn't a business profile: it's an article on the tax benefits of net losses. I realize this is an extremely boring topic. But somehow, knowing I have to write about it makes it more interesting, not less; and I'm pleased to have received this assignment because it shows they're trusting me with more than relatively fluffy pieces.

Sold

2008-11-25T19:08:00.002-05:00

I wrote an article on balance in spinning (the fiber kind) about a year ago and sent it to a couple of places. I got no responses, and that was pretty much that, because as you might imagine the audience for articles on spinning is fairly confined. However! I got an e-mail today saying that one of the places is interested in it for publication in the spring. I was quite pleased with the article and its combination of fiber geekiness and physics geekiness, and I'm excited it found a home.

Jennifer Writer frets

2008-11-24T22:12:00.003-05:00

I have a DBA! And business cards! I would feel all professional except that I'm having terrible trouble with this article I'm trying to write. On the plus side, I totally want to write an article about corsets based on Sunday's historic fashions seminar. The article is going to be too short and too vague, I can tell, and I should have insisted on recording it. Ah well. I'll finish a rough draft tonight, and polish it tomorrow and ask for another conversation via phone call.

I was poking through my old school files, looking for the first PowerPoint presentation I ever did (I didn't find it--I'll have to see if it's on a floppy and I can save it; it's from 1998), and found a draft of a grant proposal. I think it was an assignment from grad school, but I'm not sure. However, apparently I have a little grant proposal writing experience. There are always grant writer ads around, and I'd kind of like to look into that, so that was a nice find.

How to not to do

2008-11-23T00:24:00.005-05:00

I am totally, totally, totally uninterested in writing. This includes the article that I need to get done by Tuesday so that I can send it to the interviewee as promised (I already know that was a bad move, but I promised) and finish it and turn it in after Thanksgiving.

I have finished all the pieces for this baby sweater I'm knitting for my friend C. I designed it, and I'm pleased it's turned out well so far. Except I started matching pieces up and discovered that one of the sleeves is slightly but noticeably yellower than the rest of the sweater. I was pretty sure I got all the same dye lot, but apparently I was wrong--or deceived.

I have done about a third, maybe two-fifths, of the quilting for James's quilt. This quilt totally rocks. I'm still considering keeping it and making him a lesser one. (Actually I'm not, but it amuses me to say that. And I'm very, very pleased with how it's turned out. I can already see where I should have improved things, but that's all right.)

I have discovered I don't really like spinning silk because its staple is so long. I have some silk-camel that I'm planning to make into some decadent handwarmers for me and the spinning isn't bad, but it's not as fun as pure wool is, or even the Shetland/angora mix I was working with previously.

I have that historical sewing seminar tomorrow from noon to 5. I'd completely forgotten about it when drawing up my plans for the weekend. So I've got writing and quilting and all my garden clean-up and canning apple pie filling scheduled. This is unfortunate.

At present I'm planning on doing garden clean-up as soon as I get up in the morning, since I can't wait until after I get home because it'll be dark; and working on the article and quilting afterward, and maybe putting off the canning, depending. The quilting has to be done by the end of Monday at least so I can use Tuesday for attaching the binding, which I can then finish on the plane and at Mom and Dad's house and leave the quilt there--though first I've got to check what airline we're flying and whether it would be cheaper to mail it, depending on how much we're packing. Fiction writing doesn't technically have to be done; article writing does. Sleep does. Off I go to do it.

To do

2008-11-21T10:53:00.000-05:00

This weekend:

-finish James's quilt's quilting (which requires reteaching myself to stipple)
-attach quilt binding (preparatory to finishing the binding on the plane ride over, which I know perfectly well is what I'm going to end up doing)
-do laundry (to have clothes for packing)
-clean the house (so we come back to a clean house)
-finish cleaning the garden (because otherwise the rabbits will stay all winter)
-make sourdough bread (to use up the extra starter I have)
-get Shoelace to 70K (because I've been in the 60Ks too long for my liking)
-attend Metroparks historic sewing seminar (because why not?)

It has been a weekend full of not doing much, in the dark. I forgot that I dislike winter. I think I'll feel better once the garden is fully put away and the house is cleaner. And I'm packed. We're leaving Wednesday for Seattle, coming back Sunday. I won't be seeing my family as much as I'd like during this trip--Mom and Dad are both working part of the time--but there will be mornings and afternoons (and coffee spoons), and Thanksgiving with all the family (to which we'll bring my potato-cheese casserole, because Eric loves it and he didn't like the mashed potatoes the last time we were out there for Thanksgiving), and cookie-making, and musical-watching, and relaxing. Someday I want to take a vacation that doesn't involve family, but I do like holidays with the family. And then it will be post-Thanksgiving, and the Christmas lights and music will not irritate me quite as much as they currently do.

Eat my vegetables

2008-11-18T16:17:00.000-05:00

We have a holiday party at work this year, and I, naturally enough, inquired as to whether there would be a vegetarian entrée. This was the reply:

We are still working on the menu; therefore, I'm not sure if vegetarian food will be available. While, it is difficult to tailor the menu to meet each persons specific request, the meal will include several vegetables.

Whereupon I e-mailed my department coworkers telling them that my drink tickets were up for bid, and a really good bid would get double the tickets, since spouses are allowed this year and I could bring Eric along for the two minutes it would take to show up, get the tickets, give them to the appropriate person, and leave.

Seriously. I acknowledge that vegetarianism is not the standard American diet and requires a little bit of accommodation. However, it's not that uncommon, and anyone who could eat a meat dish could eat a vegetarian dish, so it wouldn't be funneling food money for the benefit of just one person. (Or however many there are in this company. I don't know.) "Several vegetables" gives me no confidence at all: no one wants to eat just crudites; just vegetables is generally not a good entire meal (and when it is, the vegetables are generally an entrée, which these obviously aren't); there's no guarantee that these "several vegetables" won't show up under gravy or swimming in beef broth or accompanied by bacon or shrimp.

We had a company picnic at the zoo this summer. My choices were a cookie and a bag of chips. (I had a little of both, but neither were very good.) I wanted to stay at the zoo, but I left early partly because I was hungry. I am not pleased. My coworker offered to ask for vegetarian food too, if that would help. I'm tempted to get up a movement, but I don't want to cause real trouble. I think.

Dance with me

2008-11-17T21:19:00.002-05:00

I'm taking a dance class on Mondays--cha cha, rhumba, and swing. I'm mostly in it for the swing, but we're getting two sessions' worth of cha cha and rhumba and only one of swing. Figures.

I came home pleased and energetic and swinging my hips a little more than I usually do, and I asked Eric if he would try coming to a Friday night general dance with me--they have an hour's lesson beforehand and then the floor is open to everybody. And he got all sad and mopey and said no, but--no, sigh--but--sigh--arrgh--"Every Monday," he cried, "You come home all happy and excited, and I hate to bring you down from your high. But I always do." And I wanted to smack him, because why is he blaming me for feeling happy which makes him feel bad? There's a vicious circle we skirt, wherein making the other person sad makes us feel sad and so on and so on. But I'm not going to feel bad about asking him to do something I enjoy. I'm disappointed that he won't, but it's not a big deal otherwise, and I told him so. I'm allowed to be disappointed. I'm allowed to dance with other people if he won't, too.

It's so elegant/So intelligent

2008-11-14T10:52:00.002-05:00

Bridger: You know who's not fazed one iota by all this?
Westphalen: Lucas.
Bridger: His generation grew up expecting this. It's not a revelation; it's a confirmation.

That's from an old show that nobody outside my family admits to liking, SeaQuest. (Yes! I am old! And no, I did not have a crush on Lucas because he was kind of annoying, though I always had the vague feeling that I ought to. Ahem.) In the relevant episode there are aliens aboard the ship (okay, maybe there are reasons nobody admits to liking it) and, as the characters are discussing, everyone's shocked and amazed except for Lucas, the teenage genius on board. He's not shocked and amazed because this is the way the world is supposed to be.

This is how I feel about electing Obama president. I'm getting uncomfortable, progressing to slightly irritated, about all the happy, weepy, I'm-so-proud-of-our-country, it's-so-historic, my-children-will-never-know-what-it's-like-not-to-have-a-black-president (which doesn't even make sense, but I know what they mean) posts and essays and letters-to-children I've been seeing in the past several days. I'm glad they're happy, but I think their reason for happiness is kind of weird. In this way, I am not old. I know it's historic, but I don't honestly feel any amazement that we've elected a black ("black") president. There's nothing wrong with that. This is the way the world is supposed to be.

Don't want no hard cash

2008-11-13T14:06:00.000-05:00

I'm liking that hospital more and more. "Do you want me to send you a financial assistance form?" the woman who answered said when I told her I'd received my past-due bill and wanted to set up payment installments. I was dubious, since we make a decent amount of money and I doubt we'd qualify, but she insisted that it wouldn't hurt, so I agreed. "How much do you think you can pay a month?" she said.

"Seven hundred?" I said, since I calculated we could spare that much and I hate debt.

"Are you sure? I don't want to stretch you too tight. They're willing to work with you, that's the great thing. And with the holidays coming up, I don't want to strap you. What about, say, three hundred? And if you have the seven hundred you can send it, but this way you're not tight on cash through the holidays." I agreed, mostly because she was being so kind. They charge no interest, so I’m feeling about as good about paying this charge I shouldn't have to pay as I can be.

Incidentally, Eric's student loans have now come due, but the minimum payment is something ludicrously small--$145 or something--so that's not a big deal, either. Our current plan is to pay the minimum on the student loans until we've saved up $6000 in emergency money--we're at $2000 now and our end-of-the-month sweep into savings should be around $1000--and then start paying extra to get rid of that debt as soon as we might without wrecking our other plans. Luckily we're not as concerned about investing in stocks or 401ks because that money will only disappear anyway.

Actually one of my coworkers is buying up extra stocks and contributing more to his 401k because he figures lots of shares while they're cheap is a good idea, and intellectually I agree this is sound; but I don't think I'm really doing it. In seventh grade Humanities we were told to take X amount of imaginary money, pretend we had bought stocks with it, and track the stocks over the weeks to see what we had earned or lost. I kept some of my money instead of buying stocks with all of it. Imaginary funds, and going against the actual assignment, and I didn't use all the money because I thought it was too risky. (I did end up losing money. But I didn't get my grade docked, though the teacher looked at me funny.)

Adventures in infertility: IUIUIU

2008-11-12T14:41:00.003-05:00

(TMI alert. Also, length alert. Sheesh.)

So the IUI was last Thursday. Actually it was last Friday. Let me explain...no, there is too much. Let me sum up. No, I'm lousy at summing up, let me explain:

I had my ultrasound/follicle study Wednesday. The technician said, "Whoa, you responded well to the Clomid. Almost too well," and said I had three ripe juicy follicles but all in the side with the blocked tube. She sent me off to the scheduler, who sent me off to the check-out, who said, "Was that all for today?" and I remembered I was supposed to get a Profasi shot as well. Since the office had totally forgotten about it, they had to send me out to the local pharmacy to get the Profasi itself. It's damned expensive stuff--the generic is $64, but the name-brand was all they had and it was $109. It contains two months' worth of medicine, but I'm not seeing that as much of a selling point.

Before I would surrender the Profasi I asked the shot-giver (that seemed to be her only function, at least that day) whether it actually made sense to go through with this, since my eggs would have nowhere to go, and she checked with a doctor who said that yes, it was worth a shot since eggs can migrate. I let her do the shot (it ached for days afterward) and looked it up later. The key is that the ovaries aren't actually connected to the fallopian tubes, just very close to them; the tubes have fimbriae that capture the eggs as they emerge and sweep them into the tube, but it's possible for the eggs to escape the nearest fimbriae. I don't know how often this happens--I only read about the migration bit on a couple of forums, secondhand from posters' doctors, and one said a 10% and the other a 70% chance. I also wonder how often an egg wanders off and is never recovered, and I can't imagine it being all that often.

Regardless, I got the shot and we scheduled the IUI for the next day, when Eric would go to the fertility clinic at the hospital during his planning period to, er, do his part, and I'd come by a few hours later to pick up, er, his part, and bring it to my gynecologist for the actual procedure. Wednesday night, he mentioned that he wasn't sure exactly where in the hospital the clinic was, but neither of us looked it up, me because I figured I'd do it at work before I left, he because (as it turned out) he thought I knew, though he didn't ask me for the directions then.

Thursday, I had a blood donation appointment with the bloodmobile at work for 10. At 11:30, Eric left school to find the clinic. He couldn't find it. He called me. I wasn't there because the bloodmobile people were, aside from being discourteous and not very gentle, running extremely late, and I didn't get out until 12. Eric shouted "Where have you been??" and then told me that the hospital had sent him to someplace that said he needed to go across the street, and the people across the street had told him he was in the wrong place, and now what? I got directions from the gynecologist and relayed them. "Then it's too late," he said, and yelled at me for not being around my phone at all times "when you knew I didn't know where I was going!" and for giving blood when I was supposed to be getting pregnant.

He went back to work. I called the clinic and the gynecologist and was told that we could reschedule for the next day. The scheduler, whom I've talked to a lot in the past couple of months, was upset that I asked if that would do any good. It turns out Profasi stays in the system for around 36-48 hours and the eggs don't die until it's gone. This was going to be a little over that time limit, so I was dubious, but we'd already spent most of the money we were going to spend this month and I scheduled it despite Eric saying he'd given up for the month. Later he called back, and we made up and he agreed to try again on Friday.

Friday, armed with the new improved directions, he had no problems at all (except in locating the porn, he said--it was discreetly tucked underneath a towel, and he didn't find it until afterward). I accordingly arrived a few hours later, tucked "the boys" into my bra, which gave me the giggles, was told by the technician "Good luck--I hope I never see you again!" and drove off.

At the gynecologist's, everything went fine except that my cervix is apparently severely tilted, so the gynecologist had to shove the catheter to get it in the correct place and I therefore bled quite a bit more than I'd been led to expect. Also, they should have warned me to bring a book or grab a magazine. Their ceiling was not interesting enough to entertain me for the requisite 20 minutes on my back.

And now, we wait. I am now doubly hoping that it worked, because I saw that ThinkGeek now carries solar system mobiles and how totally awesome would that be for a nursery?

Two sides of the same coin

2008-11-08T13:39:00.002-05:00

"What's that?" Eric said when I was looking at this. I scrolled up to let him read the start. "Does it go into gay people eventually?" he said.

"No, it's just black and white," I said. "The other issue of today."

"But it's not a different issue."

"No, just a different group," I agreed. We're donating to this, too. Giving for causes we believe in it so much more fun when there's sarcasm and ribbing of appropriately ribbable people involved.

You can't go to bed on Election Night

2008-11-05T00:20:00.004-05:00

Ohmigod, we're going to have an intelligent and articulate president! Hooray!

In other news, 55% of Californians (11% reporting) are pathetic, shriveled, bigoted wastes of people. Dammit. At least Colorado was sensible.

I like that Obama didn't downplay how bad things are right now. I'm liking the "spirit of service" theme in the speech. Sensible and realistic and good. Great speech. McCain's was good too. Eric said, "Where has he been for the last four years?"

I must go to bed now; I have an ultrasound in seven and a half hours. I'll look up how to donate to the get-rid-of-Proposition-8's-results fund in the morning. Eric was looking up comments on Free Republic about Obama. Please, Secret Service, do your job well!

And while we're at it.

2008-11-04T14:43:00.002-05:00

She's a female candidate. FEMALE. She is NOT a "woman candidate." "Woman" is not an adjective. Get it right, people!

Gas, and also hot air

2008-11-03T14:36:00.000-05:00

Gas is $1.99 outside work. The gas in my tank is $0.49 per gallon more expensive, and I bought it a week ago. Wow.

I remember the first time I bought gas for over $2 per gallon. It was in Dayton, so no later than 2004, and I was driving to Columbus to catch a plane for work early the next day so I didn't want to take the chance on finding something cheaper on the way. I found a receipt in my car for $4.07 per gallon gas from July. These are funny times.

I'm anticipating that very late tomorrow people will start talking about "our first black president," so I shall say now how much that annoys me and get it over with. Unless he identifies completely with black people, Obama will not be our first black president. He'll be our first mixed-race, partly-black president (or at least I hope he will).

I do realize that to most people in this country, any black means black. He's not white enough for most white people. I also strongly suspect that at least when he was growing up, he wasn't black enough for black people, either. I have a book at home that examines mixed-race children in America. It's mostly on black/white mixes, since that's the major, and most emotionally charged, mix around here. At the time I was vaguely annoyed by that because I was looking for something that related to me, and that doesn't. But now that I live in a city that concerns itself with this kind of thing, and hope to shortly live under a mixed-race president, I'm glad I read it. And it says that a mixed-race child is too white for the blacks, and too black for the whites, and generally only finds refuge in the people who actually see him or her as an actual person. I've long since forgotten the race issue except when reminded because I know enough about Obama now to consider him as a person. I wish more people could do the same.

Eric and I talked recently about how his dad routinely talks about his black students and his white students and how that bothers me, and Eric's stance is that though he personally doesn't use the same language, he doesn't see his dad as wrong because, statistically speaking, there are differences in the two groups. --But then he went on to discuss theories of teaching, and how there are theories that a group of mostly females should be taught differently from a group of mostly males, and he doesn't believe in that either. We were also talking about how I grew up always believing that "liberal" was a good thing, and that Republicans were mostly wrong, while he grew up thinking "conservative" was a good thing, and that Democrats were mostly wrong. "It's like we lived in different countries," he said. There are no black-white issues in Seattle as there are Toledo. The major minority (hmm) there is Asian, and there isn't as much tension, or the same kind of stereotypes, so it's a different dynamic--and as far as I ever noticed, a nonissue.

People who say they're afraid that Obama will "take care of his own people first" don't know what they're talking about. They're trying to say, "He's black, so he'll give special favors to the black people." Presumably they believe the same is true of McCain but in reverse, but that doesn't bother them because they'll be the ones being taken care of. Maybe they assume the candidates would act as they themselves would--or implicitly realize that that actually is what already happens, with the people in power--mostly white people--taking care of their own.

Probably there are lots of people in the country about whom that would be a reasonable fear, but none of them would become the likely winner in the American presidential election. There's an old saying that women have to be excellent just to be recognized as competent, and I expect the same is true for black, or partially-black, people. I'm hopeful about having Obama as president because he's had to do very well in everything else in his life to get where he is, and he has the intelligence and capacity to keep on doing it. I'm not very hopeful that America's race issues will get significantly better anytime soon, which depresses me very much. "Maybe when that generation is dead," I think, but then I assume that people my age--or even most intelligent people--are like me, and that's not true either. Eric's mom says, "Obama scares the shit out of me, and I don't know why. There's just something about him." I think I know what the something is, but it's something about her, not him.

I'm glad I can cast a vote in a swing state, but I wish I didn't live in a city with such a divisive attitude. Alternately, I could wish I had a "people," but I don't, other than the friends I choose and the family I love. I'd have to ask him to be sure, but I don't think Obama has a "people" either, any more than I do, or than most people do. (If I am ever elected president, all left-handed half-Asian non-high-school-diploma-possessing master's-degree-bearing vegetarians named Jennifer shall get preferential treatment. I don't think this will tie up much of my presidential time.) He has a family, and a hometown, and a country, and so do we all. And I hope that in January he has a presidency.

(With that said, I am not voting tomorrow. I voted two weeks ago. Eric voted yesterday and the line was three hours long.)

On knitting and juggling

2008-11-02T18:33:00.003-05:00

I have, at last, deployed the ice cream yarn. This is some dark green wool/silk/something-else fiber I picked up at the Spinner's Flock Fleece Fair last February. (Or the one before? I forget.) I spun it up into a thick, fluffy, three-ply yarn that seemed to incorporate as much air as yarn, thus the name ice cream yarn. I knit it into a clever hat, with intertwining cables, with exactly no yarn left over. Unfortunately the hat made me look stupid. The hat itself looked nice, but my head looked like a bowling ball with an IQ of 34. (I suppose that would make it an unusually intelligent bowling ball. Unless the IQ was based on the bowling ball population rather than the human population.) So I unraveled it and knit a Calorimetry, which forced me to bind off about six rows before the end, but luckily it's knit such that that really didn't matter. I'm pleased.

We had a Cheap Candy Day (aka Bring Your Own Excuse) party yesterday, because we felt like having a party, and it went very well. My father-in-law complimented my cooking and seemed overall more pleased with me than he has in the past, which was nice. My mother-in-law got het up about an incipient political discussion (there were several of us in the room when somebody said "Nobody here is a Palin supporter" and apparently she is) and left in a hurry, but otherwise everything went very well. Eric did mention his Klein bottle hat at some point. I knit this for him in 2004, long before the Knitty pattern came out. "Oh, yeah, I've got one, Jenny made it for me years ago," he assured one of our friends who mentioned it. The thing is, I also unraveled it about a year ago, because he never wore it because it didn't fit properly. I'm wondering if I shouldn't start working on that again.

I have the picture part of James's quilt top almost finished. It's gorgeous. I'm loving it. The plan is to finish the entire quilt top by the end of this week, then baste and quilt next week, and have plenty of time to bind by the time we leave for Thanksgiving. We'll see how that goes, of course. I've got part of Dad's first sock to finish; after that two more socks, one of Mom's and one of Dad's. Plus a baby sweater. Plus maybe another quilt. Plus a hat for me. Plus curtains and baby stuff and whatever else comes up. Plus I signed up for a dance class (cha cha, swing, and rhumba) on Mondays.

The fiction writing is still going well, remarkably; but the nonfiction stuff not so much. Jen's post on the same subject got me thinking about all my activities and interests, and how life used to be much simpler back when I was in grad school but I definitely get more done now. Also Dad sent me some job listings for right near his work, and one of them is really intriguing, even though it's in research rather than writing and I had said I wanted to pursue the writing, so I'm thinking about how determined I need to be to stick to one course, or if it's okay to deviate from my plans as much as I often deviate. I'm feeling like I can juggle all the different activities I've got, but that means that something is always out of my hands. I think that's okay, but I'll have to wait and watch and see.

On watercolor quilting

2008-10-28T23:23:00.002-05:00

There's no picture of the Summer Sunrise quilt because I'm ashamed of it. It's mainly the sky. This was supposed to be a watercolor quilt, done in low resolution (six-inch squares), and the green in the hills looks fine because I used different patterns and tones, but for the sky I just used one type of fabric for each color (orange to yellow to tan to blue to dark blue) and it looks awful. It'll do for now because it's under another blanket, but I'm going to have to make us another summer quilt and give this one away.

James's quilt is the same technique, but done better. I used lots of different fabrics, and it looks more natural and graded and interesting. Still very color-saturated--I guess my stash tends toward that--but that's not a bad thing. This one I'm not ashamed of.

Adventures in infertility: Mr. Hyde has left the building

2008-10-26T17:35:00.004-05:00

I started taking Clomid yesterday, per my doctor's orders. (Also, the day before that I called both my doctor and the local fertility clinic, to coordinate scheduling for getting a specimen from Eric and getting my ultrasound/Profasi/IUI set up. I much prefer the local fertility clinic's phone manner. The woman I spoke with was helpful, knowledgeable, and happy to explain each step of what I needed. The people at the doctor's office recognize my name--or the one woman does, anyway--but only give me useful information when I pull it out of them.) They're supposed to be taken the same time every day, and I decided noon sounded good.

I eyed the first one nervously before I popped it in my mouth. I'm not liking this part of the IUI prep, especially since I ovulate just fine. It feels too manipulative. Too steak-tastes-better. Also, I looked up the side effects and feared them: mood swings, uncontrollable crying, cramping, hot flashes, nausea, itchiness, headaches, exhaustion. I told Eric this list and apologized in advance. However, I took it. I waited a moment, said to myself, "No noticeable behavioral differences," and went about my day.

After a few hours I noticed that I was more aware of my female inner workings than I usually am at this time of month, but no actual pain, and it went away. Today, a slight headache that might be due to not enough to drink. Nothing else. Eric's moodier than I am. I'm still a bit wary, but feeling decently hopeful that this won't be such a big deal.

Not really a misnomer. Really!

2008-10-22T11:15:00.004-05:00

I get defensive about this every fall. I would like to inform Midwesterners and East Coasters: Red Delicious apples really do taste good--in Washington. I've had one fresh from a tree in a local orchard here in Toledo, and it was tasteless. They're widely reviled here as lumps that don't deserve the name of apple, and given the opportunity to taste them here I can't blame these people, but it's not the poor apple's fault. It's evidently a terroir thing, made worse by the globalization of food markets and the marketable name (like 'Beautiful Rushmore Caverns' in South Dakota, I suppose). But in their proper environment the Red Delicious is a good apple. Honestly!

Snapshots

2008-10-21T21:52:00.004-05:00

Click:

I've just left the government center, having been told that their website is totally misleading and what I want is in another castle, and decide to try walking to the Board of Elections building where I can vote early. Four blocks later I realize this isn't going to work, and I start heading back. As I'm walking, a brown car pulls alongside me, then climbs halfway up the sidewalk and paces me.

I think I see a female passenger (Eric asked me later why this was important) and it's plain daylight and there are people around, so I'm not terribly concerned; I just move out of easy reach and keep walking. The brown car gets stuck behind another car, and the light turns red, and I cross and start walking back towards my car.

I stop to read the Constitutional Amendments statue-type thing by the sidewalk. Someone hollers behind me, "I love you!!" I'm not sure whether he's talking to me or not, because I don't look back, but I turn the wrong way up a one-way street and the brown car doesn't follow.

Click:

"I want to know if the cystic fibrosis test covers a particular mutation," I tell the woman who answered the hospital's telephone.

"Okay, well, I can see if the system will tell me," she says dubiously. She looks. She finds nothing. "Sorry. But I can give you the number of the lab that does it, MLabs. --Wait. Where are you calling from?"

"My cell phone," I say, cautiously.

"I mean, are you a patient or what?"

I explain my situation. She says, "Okay. Because I'm not supposed to give you medical information if you're not a physician. Like, I can't give you this information because I'm not a physician either. There's a law that says I can't give this to you."

"But I'm not asking for advice," I say. "I just want to know a detail about the procedure."

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that. I can't even give you the number. It's my job, I have to obey this law."

I realize there's no use arguing, so I get her to repeat the name of the lab and tell me the city they're located in. I say sweetly, "Then I'll call them myself. Thanks for your help." I call the lab and they're perfectly helpful. I hope that the woman worries all night about whether or not she should have given me the lab's name and city.

Suddenly I'm more interested in the details of Obama's healthcare plan.

2008-10-16T20:33:00.004-05:00

Now it's even more important that I straighten things out with the insurance company regarding my HSG. To wit: the $535 was just for my doctor to show up. The hospital's bill is $3,087. However I got no notice from Anthem about it, which suggests that the hospital didn't even try sending it to insurance. So I'm talking to them about that first. And if there's nothing I can do on that front, I'm going to talk to them about financing, because we don't have that much money. (Unless we take it out of our stocks, but that's a really bad idea right now. Putting it on a credit card would honestly be better. Yuck.)

I had my first interview today, for a real estate profile I'm doing for a local paper. I'd answered a Craigslist ad looking for local freelance writers, and this is my trial assignment. It went okay, though I did not feel polished or penetrating or anything particularly good, and the interviewee treated me like I knew something, which is the important bit, I think.

Tonight I'm writing up the article because this weekend is to be very busy with other freelance work (for the company that Jade introduced me to). This weekend Eric has no plans, so I'm hiring him to design a business card for me, because I felt foolish when my interviewee handed me his card and I had nothing to give him. I think it's time to go get a DBA. I don't know that it will help me or make me look more professional, but it'll be a nice shiny new toy for fairly cheap, and that would be a nice thing.

Close encounters

2008-10-13T20:31:00.003-05:00

Thursday or Friday of last week, I was driving home in crawling traffic, listening to NPR, as has been my wont ever since Eric accused me of knowing too little about current events. (He was not entirely wrong.) Crawl, crawl, crawl, thunk. The car behind me had hit me. We got out; the driver, a woman a little younger than me, apologized profusely. She noticed the dent in my bumper and gasped, "Did I do that?"

"No, that was already there," I said. There was no damage to my car, just a license-plate-shaped smudge in the dirt, so I shrugged, she apologized once more, and we got back in our cars.

Today I was driving home, listening to NPR, thinking about whether we should buy stocks since everyone else was probably going to. I stopped at a light and fished out some trail mix from the Eric Hypoglycemia Emergency Stash. Chew, chew, chew, thunk. This one was a little harder. I got out and the driver, male this time, said, "Are you all right? I'm so sorry! I saw cars moving in the other lane and just started going." He looked at the dent in my bumper and said, "Did I do that?"

"No, that was from before," I said, and we examined the bumper. There were a couple of slight scratches this time, but not enough to be noticeable under the dirt or worry me, so after another apology and another "Are you sure you're all right?" we got back in our cars. It vaguely amuses me that both people thought they could be responsible for a dent in the side of the bumper when they hit me straight on. Could I have said "Yes" and gotten a free bumper repair out of it? Probably their insurance companies would be smarter than that. However, I feel sure that either I will myself get into an accident before long and be forgiven, or have a third person hit me even harder than the second one, and this third person will buy me a new bumper.

Status check

2008-10-09T11:34:00.001-05:00

Current status: Furious at the insurance company. When I called to check whether they would cover the HSG, they said they would. Now they say they don't touch anything with the word 'infertility' on it. Dad suggests filing a complaint with the company and the insurance general (never heard of this, but I'll go find out). It was $535, so I think it's worth it to spend the time--I already submitted an informal complaint through their "Contact Us" page, but I'll check my paperwork and see what I need to do for a formal one.

Also, they don't do CF carrier testing unless a relative actually has CF, not just results indicating he's a carrier. Even though that's effectively the same situation minus the tragedy. Also, we need an official letter from Eric's new insurance company before my company will take him off of mine. $%!@*&$ bureaucracy.

Michelle was over last night while the mothers were at a seminar. She did a little spinning while I worked on my quilt templates; then she said, "I’m bored. I'd rather talk," and proceeded to tell me all about her tumultous relationship with her erstwhile best friend. I don't think she realizes that they're not best friends anymore, even though she sounded like she was describing a failing marriage, but she was doing at least a little metacognition: "I'm sorry to spill all this. But if you don't mind--it's nice to be able to talk about it."

I finished one sock of the pair intended for Mom yesterday. It's going in the wash this weekend to see if it shrinks--if not, I may have to redo it. I also need some good instructions for left-handed Kitchener stitch. Maybe I'll sit down with some easier-to-use yarn and figure it out myself.

We looked at our Ameritrade account yesterday. We really shouldn't have. We've lost almost six thousand dollars. Luckily we don't need the money; but we're definitely going to build up some savings in the bank before we do any serious investing. Though I do keep talking about upping our 401k contributions and buying some stock, since it's nice and cheap now. Eric wonders how much cheaper it will get. When the stock market starts going back up will there be a sudden upswing as everyone realizes now is the time to buy, or will most people be skittish and wary?

Slightly relatedly, I'm waiting on a small freelancing check from the company I'm scheduled to do a crazy amount of work with in two weekends. No check, no work. I'm sure my contact knows this; she's talking to the accounting person herself to make sure it gets to me. I'm also waiting on three potential nibbles on other gigs, but not very hopeful about any of them.

Status: life as usual. I want a vacation.

Turnover rate

2008-10-06T21:13:00.003-05:00

I made apple butter and apple turnovers yesterday. The turnovers were something I'd never tried before, but I've been looking for something to replace the Fudgy Rounds Eric loves to take to work with him and I had lots of apples, so I gave them a shot. They're good. Eric loved them. "We should take some to the mothers," I said. "We could take them the recipe," he said.

Today, I made more. The original recipe only made eight, and we gave three to the mothers and sampled three more throughout the day. Eric brought one to work for after his faculty meeting and told me he was daydreaming about it halfway through the meeting. Who knew that handheld apple pies would be such a hit?

I tried out a cooked filling this time, because if it works well we're going to can a bunch of filling for later use. The first batch also had quite a few split seams and runny spots, so I took more care shaping the turnovers this time, pressing the crust together and crimping it carefully with a fork, then carefully trimming the edges away. I couldn't shake the feeling that I get once in a while since I got married, that this is something I'm going to be doing a lot in the coming years, that what I'm doing now is the foundation of a family tradition in the future. It's a strange feeling. But I like it.

Saturday, Saturday

2008-10-04T23:15:00.003-05:00

Maybe I don't have a quilt design for James's quilt. I mean, I do, but the dragon-woven-into-the-design thing didn't work out the way I thought it would. I thought to do a test patch, for once, to test this out, and I'm glad I did. But it still means I'm not sure what I want to do. Switch entirely? Remove the dragon and keep the quilt simple? Find another way to weave the dragon in?

In other news, I met with an editor of a local business paper today to discuss doing freelance assignments. I think it mostly went well; he gave me some sample papers to read and asked me to send an e-mail with my interest in doing a trial assignment. I've got my fingers crossed.

I bought a half-bushel of apples at the farmer's market today ($10; at Andersons there were pecks for sale for $6) that I'm going to use tomorrow for apple butter, apple turnovers, and possibly apple cake. We also bought about three hundred dollars' worth of clothes for the two of us. Yikes. But we needed it (Eric especially), and we can afford it now, which I think actually makes me happier than the actual buying of things does.

Complicated

2008-10-03T19:51:00.005-05:00

"I'm not sure what I'm planting in the garden next year," I said last night. "But I should probably act like we're going to be here an extra year."

"Yeah?"

"Well, maybe it would be a selling point--but then, if things are bad enough that a vegetable garden is a big selling point, we're probably not going to be able to sell the house."

"My mom asked me about that earlier," Eric said. "She wanted to know if we'd considered the economy regarding our plans to move. I said of course we had, we're not idiots. Only not in those words. I said yes, we've discussed it. That we've been discussing it off and on for months."

"Did she bring up her contention that we'll never move? Or that we won't come back?"

"That was the other mother," he said. "But no, she didn't mention that. She was just asking if we'd thought about it. Especially if we're going to be spending all this money to try to make sure we have a kid soon."

"Moving with a newborn would not be fun," I said. "Neither would moving while eight months pregnant."

"Right. So next year is going to be complicated."

"I think..." I said. "I think we're probably going to end up staying an extra year. But I'm not willing to give up yet."

"That's fine," Eric said. "We'll wait and see. We could always put the house on the market and see what happens. And maybe things will get better after the election."