After four years of loving my current glasses, I finally had to give up the ghost and go get a new pair today. I've put this off for as long as possible, but I realized that with imminent arrival of The Bug, I'll probably be wearing my glasses more often, so if there ever was a time for new glasses, this was it. If this were a commercial for MasterCard, it would go something like this:
-Cheapest set of frames in the store that weren't neon green or sparkly pink: $175
-Putting lenses into said frames: $100
-Making sure those lenses are not an inch thick: $75
-Adding a non-reflective coating to those lenses so that I can drive at night without crashing into a tree: $70
-Owning a pair of glasses that (a) are the right prescription and (b) have 2 intact earpieces because they have not yet encountered Yellow Cat's teeth: Priceless.
Except that I have Visa, so it wasn't priceless at all. In fact, it was highly price-full. And if Yellow Cat so much as GLANCES in the direction of these new glasses, he will be thrown swiftly across the room.
Oh, and at first, I told the salesman that I didn't care about the thickness of the glasses, but I quickly realized that if I have to wear them out in public, I WOULD care, and also it annoys me when my eyelashes hit the back of the glass because it's so thick, so I told him I changed my mind and wanted the thin lenses. He responded by asking what made me change my mind, and I replied that I would probably be wearing them more in the next few months, what with the baby and all. His response: "Oh, yeah, I thought you were pregnant, but I wasn't sure." Um...really? Because pretty much the only options at this point are "pregnant" or "crazy woman with a pillow stuffed up her shirt."
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Groucho
Yellow Cat has claimed the changing table:
This works fine for now because it means that he has temporarily given up his claim to my body pillow, which in turn means I can sleep on it without worrying that I'll wake up with a patch of yellow fur in my face. He's going to be in for a rude surprise in a few weeks, though...
This works fine for now because it means that he has temporarily given up his claim to my body pillow, which in turn means I can sleep on it without worrying that I'll wake up with a patch of yellow fur in my face. He's going to be in for a rude surprise in a few weeks, though...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
B.S. No Longer
I'll start with a warning that this will undoubtedly be a long post. It's only fitting that it should be long because it's a post about the past three years of my life, and about a document that took 14 months of writing and ended up being 119 pages long. It's a post about a promise to myself and a journey that began the first time I checked the box on a standardized test that said that my parents held Master's Degrees. It's a post about the sense of numbness and celebration and relief that is coursing through me at this moment because now, pending the submission of a few forms and perhaps a walk down an aisle in a few months, my child will be able to check that box, too.
When I graduated with a double Bachelor's degree three-and-a-half years ago, I never expected that it would take me this long to make it here. I also never expected that by the time I did make it here, I would be completely exhausted by the process and disillusioned about the world of academia, or that I would have learned how to advocate for myself in that world, or that I would be married and hugely pregnant, or perhaps most surprisingly of all, that I would finally be comfortable with public speaking. In other words, I never expected that I would be so different from the person I was just four short years ago.
For the past two weeks, ever since I submitted my thesis to my committee members, I have been calm when I should have been nervous. I have been anticipatory, rather than anxious. And I found that strange because it's in my nature to worry and fret and obsess about events such as this, but it finally occurred to me that I wasn't worried because I was ready. Not just prepared, like usual, but truly ready for the culmination of this process. When I left home this morning, I told the animals that when I returned, I would be able to claim a new set of initials behind my name. They were unimpressed. (Of course).
I drove to school looking forward to 11 o'clock, when the defense was scheduled to begin. I did not arrive an hour early, as is my custom, to fuss with the presentation "one last time." I did not worry at the last minute about whether my data was really okay or whether I had used the right statistical tests or whether it mattered that I wasn't wearing pantyhose under my pants. When I got there, I did not panic when the media center informed me that my reservation for a laptop and projector had been lost. (After a few minutes, they did find me another laptop and projector after all). I will admit to a moment of slight panic when I tried to roll the projector cart out of the elevator and suddenly, a wheel fell off and I couldn't do anything but stand there, half in the elevator and half out, trying to figure out how I was going to hold up the cart while simultaneously retrieving and fixing the wheel. As it turned out, a very nice janitor heard my half-hearted calls for help and came running. (Thank you, nice janitor. In the story of this day, you will remain my hero).
The two-hour defense was very informal and my committee members offered helpful advice and asked insightful questions, which I was able to answer with a relative degree of expertise. The oh-so-thoughtful executive assistant who had scheduled the room for me had made sure to book a room that had lots of space and lots of chairs and that was set up such that I was able to sit down through the presentation, rather than having to be on my feet for two hours. (Thank you, executive assistant. In the story of this day, you will remain my guardian angel).
And then, suddenly, after a brief stint of pacing the halls while the committee held a closed discussion about whether I had adequately defended my project, it was over. There were smiles, and assurances that I had done a good job, and some chatter about everyone's summer plans. It seemed almost anti-climactic that it should end like this, with a few handshakes and some signatures on a yellow piece of paper, a celebratory lunch and a hug from my advisor. And when I returned home and told the animals that I had kept my promise, that I had passed my defense and was now the proud soon-to-be recipient of a Master's Degree, they remained unimpressed. (Of course).
But the sense of calm that has so pervaded my world for the past two weeks is suddenly replaced by an almost giddy relief. I did it. It's done. Whatever went before and whatever comes next, this day has been a success and a celebration, the much anticipated fulfillment of a promise, the long-awaited end to this particular journey, and more importantly still, the starting point for my next set of adventures.
When I graduated with a double Bachelor's degree three-and-a-half years ago, I never expected that it would take me this long to make it here. I also never expected that by the time I did make it here, I would be completely exhausted by the process and disillusioned about the world of academia, or that I would have learned how to advocate for myself in that world, or that I would be married and hugely pregnant, or perhaps most surprisingly of all, that I would finally be comfortable with public speaking. In other words, I never expected that I would be so different from the person I was just four short years ago.
For the past two weeks, ever since I submitted my thesis to my committee members, I have been calm when I should have been nervous. I have been anticipatory, rather than anxious. And I found that strange because it's in my nature to worry and fret and obsess about events such as this, but it finally occurred to me that I wasn't worried because I was ready. Not just prepared, like usual, but truly ready for the culmination of this process. When I left home this morning, I told the animals that when I returned, I would be able to claim a new set of initials behind my name. They were unimpressed. (Of course).
I drove to school looking forward to 11 o'clock, when the defense was scheduled to begin. I did not arrive an hour early, as is my custom, to fuss with the presentation "one last time." I did not worry at the last minute about whether my data was really okay or whether I had used the right statistical tests or whether it mattered that I wasn't wearing pantyhose under my pants. When I got there, I did not panic when the media center informed me that my reservation for a laptop and projector had been lost. (After a few minutes, they did find me another laptop and projector after all). I will admit to a moment of slight panic when I tried to roll the projector cart out of the elevator and suddenly, a wheel fell off and I couldn't do anything but stand there, half in the elevator and half out, trying to figure out how I was going to hold up the cart while simultaneously retrieving and fixing the wheel. As it turned out, a very nice janitor heard my half-hearted calls for help and came running. (Thank you, nice janitor. In the story of this day, you will remain my hero).
The two-hour defense was very informal and my committee members offered helpful advice and asked insightful questions, which I was able to answer with a relative degree of expertise. The oh-so-thoughtful executive assistant who had scheduled the room for me had made sure to book a room that had lots of space and lots of chairs and that was set up such that I was able to sit down through the presentation, rather than having to be on my feet for two hours. (Thank you, executive assistant. In the story of this day, you will remain my guardian angel).
And then, suddenly, after a brief stint of pacing the halls while the committee held a closed discussion about whether I had adequately defended my project, it was over. There were smiles, and assurances that I had done a good job, and some chatter about everyone's summer plans. It seemed almost anti-climactic that it should end like this, with a few handshakes and some signatures on a yellow piece of paper, a celebratory lunch and a hug from my advisor. And when I returned home and told the animals that I had kept my promise, that I had passed my defense and was now the proud soon-to-be recipient of a Master's Degree, they remained unimpressed. (Of course).
But the sense of calm that has so pervaded my world for the past two weeks is suddenly replaced by an almost giddy relief. I did it. It's done. Whatever went before and whatever comes next, this day has been a success and a celebration, the much anticipated fulfillment of a promise, the long-awaited end to this particular journey, and more importantly still, the starting point for my next set of adventures.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Because Normal Stretchmarks Weren't Bad Enough...
Did you know it's possible to have an allergic reaction to stretchmarks and/or male fetal DNA? GUESS HOW I KNOW.
I'm starting to think that maybe rashes are just my way of responding to life changes. Which is really awesome, given my phobia of skin things. Think I'm kidding? When I found out I was pregnant, I spent three months worrying that my child would be born with a rash and then I would NEVER BE ABLE TO LOVE HIM. And to be perfectly honest, I'm still not entirely sure how I'm going to handle that first (or second or eighty-fifth) rash.
On the plus side, I've discovered that magic that is oatmeal baths. The person who invented those deserves to be knighted, sainted, and probably win a Nobel Prize, too. I mean, really. Who in their right mind thinks, "Hey, here's a somewhat unappealing food item. Let's put it in a tub and sit in it and see what happens!"
The only humorous aspect to this rash is that whenever I scratch my belly, it apparently disturbs The Bug, who then spends several minutes banging around, trying to readjust himself in his quickly shrinking surroundings.
I'm starting to think that maybe rashes are just my way of responding to life changes. Which is really awesome, given my phobia of skin things. Think I'm kidding? When I found out I was pregnant, I spent three months worrying that my child would be born with a rash and then I would NEVER BE ABLE TO LOVE HIM. And to be perfectly honest, I'm still not entirely sure how I'm going to handle that first (or second or eighty-fifth) rash.
On the plus side, I've discovered that magic that is oatmeal baths. The person who invented those deserves to be knighted, sainted, and probably win a Nobel Prize, too. I mean, really. Who in their right mind thinks, "Hey, here's a somewhat unappealing food item. Let's put it in a tub and sit in it and see what happens!"
The only humorous aspect to this rash is that whenever I scratch my belly, it apparently disturbs The Bug, who then spends several minutes banging around, trying to readjust himself in his quickly shrinking surroundings.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
YES, I'm Ornery
Waking up at 4 am on a Saturday is...annoying. You know what's more annoying though?
-Waking up at 4 am on a Saturday and not being able to go back to sleep because you're starving to death.
-Or because the eight-hundred stretchmarks on your belly WONT STOP ITCHING.
-Or because your husband and your dog have decided to snore in rhythm.
-Or because The Bug has picked up on that rhythm and is kicking along with it.
-Or because the DARN CATS will NOT stop crashing around in the living room.
But while all of that is annoying to the extreme, none of it is as bad as waking up at 4 am on a Saturday, not being able to go back to sleep, eating a snack, rubbing lotion on the stretchmarks, giving the cats the death glare, going back to bed and realizing that the snoring has stopped (whoo!), lying back down, and finally, finally, FINALLY going back to sleep, only to have your alarm start ringing 15 minutes later.
-Waking up at 4 am on a Saturday and not being able to go back to sleep because you're starving to death.
-Or because the eight-hundred stretchmarks on your belly WONT STOP ITCHING.
-Or because your husband and your dog have decided to snore in rhythm.
-Or because The Bug has picked up on that rhythm and is kicking along with it.
-Or because the DARN CATS will NOT stop crashing around in the living room.
But while all of that is annoying to the extreme, none of it is as bad as waking up at 4 am on a Saturday, not being able to go back to sleep, eating a snack, rubbing lotion on the stretchmarks, giving the cats the death glare, going back to bed and realizing that the snoring has stopped (whoo!), lying back down, and finally, finally, FINALLY going back to sleep, only to have your alarm start ringing 15 minutes later.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Too Many Blue Matrixes
Usually, I park in the same general area of the parking lot at school, which is on the third floor. I do this because (a) by the time I get there, all the lower spots are already taken and (b) if I park in different places each day, I forget where I am and then, I have to wander aimlessly around in the hopes that I'll spot my car somewhere.
When I left work this afternoon, I walked up to the third floor of the parking deck, as usual, and spotted my car in one of its customary spots. As I got closer, I noticed that I had left the doors unlocked, so I grumbled at myself about how forgetful I'm getting, and then got in. Immediately, I noticed that there was something slightly different about the smell in the car, but my car frequently changes the way it smells with no real explanation. So I put the keys in and turned the ignition...nothing. Again, a phenomenon that I'm somewhat familiar with because sometimes, the car just doesn't feel like starting. So I tried it again. Nothing. And again. Still nothing.
And then, just as I was about to take my frustration out on the steering wheel, I noticed that the odd smell in the car wasn't just any old odd smell, but the very distinctly odd smell of cigar smoke. Since no one has ever actually smoked a cigar in my car, I began to get suspicious. And that's when I noticed that there was no stuffed moose hanging down from my rear view mirror. My sweater was not sitting in the passenger seat, where I had left it. And this car was much, much neater than mine will EVER be. After sitting there, feeling like I was in an alternate universe for a full minute, it finally hit me that hey! I had parked on the SECOND floor this morning because I wanted to avoid the extra flight of stairs.
On the plus side, at least this means that I did, in fact, remember to lock my car this morning.
When I left work this afternoon, I walked up to the third floor of the parking deck, as usual, and spotted my car in one of its customary spots. As I got closer, I noticed that I had left the doors unlocked, so I grumbled at myself about how forgetful I'm getting, and then got in. Immediately, I noticed that there was something slightly different about the smell in the car, but my car frequently changes the way it smells with no real explanation. So I put the keys in and turned the ignition...nothing. Again, a phenomenon that I'm somewhat familiar with because sometimes, the car just doesn't feel like starting. So I tried it again. Nothing. And again. Still nothing.
And then, just as I was about to take my frustration out on the steering wheel, I noticed that the odd smell in the car wasn't just any old odd smell, but the very distinctly odd smell of cigar smoke. Since no one has ever actually smoked a cigar in my car, I began to get suspicious. And that's when I noticed that there was no stuffed moose hanging down from my rear view mirror. My sweater was not sitting in the passenger seat, where I had left it. And this car was much, much neater than mine will EVER be. After sitting there, feeling like I was in an alternate universe for a full minute, it finally hit me that hey! I had parked on the SECOND floor this morning because I wanted to avoid the extra flight of stairs.
On the plus side, at least this means that I did, in fact, remember to lock my car this morning.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Furniture
We started working on refinishing a dresser back in October, and after several setbacks, issues with peeling, and a Very Long Hiatus while the weather was cold, I finally finished it last weekend. I wish I had taken some before pictures of it because it has come a long way from where it was. The closest thing I have to a before picture is this:
At least that gives you a general idea of the color that it used to be...just ignore the cats and picture what that contraption would look like with four dingy, honey-colored drawers.
And...here's the after picture:
I could so be a professional re-finisher of furniture. As long as my clients don't mind waiting six months for each project. Oh, and I know you can't see it in the picture, but Yellow Cat is sitting under the dresser and looking ornery because his fat belly makes it difficult for him to fit under there.
While we're at it, here's the corner of the bedroom that's dedicated to The Bug for the first few months:
At least that gives you a general idea of the color that it used to be...just ignore the cats and picture what that contraption would look like with four dingy, honey-colored drawers.And...here's the after picture:
I could so be a professional re-finisher of furniture. As long as my clients don't mind waiting six months for each project. Oh, and I know you can't see it in the picture, but Yellow Cat is sitting under the dresser and looking ornery because his fat belly makes it difficult for him to fit under there.While we're at it, here's the corner of the bedroom that's dedicated to The Bug for the first few months:
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I'm Blaming The Hormones
It's been a while since I've done anything absent-minded, and just yesterday, I was congratulating myself on the fact that I haven't recently lost my keys or cell phone and it's been a REALLY long time since I've put the sugar in the fridge or the ice cream in the cabinet with the bowls. Plus, I've been really productive lately, both in working on my thesis defense presentation and in doing things around the apartment, so I was feeling pretty good about myself when I pulled out the frozen pizza that was supposed to be our dinner last night.
Now, this wasn't just any old frozen pizza--it was a "special treat" pizza, the kind that has the stuffed crust and the yummy toppings, the kind that McMoose and I always eye in the grocery store, but never buy. This week, we decided, was the week to splurge on the special pizza, so I was understandably excited about the whole thing. So excited, apparently, that it didn't occur to me to remove the cardboard from the bottom of the thing, which effectively ruined it AND made us late to our birth class because we had to pry the half-cooked pizza off the cardboard thing and then cook it for twice as long. And when I say "we" did this, I mean that McMoose did it while I sat on the couch and cried because apparently, when you're 37 weeks pregnant and you ruin a "special treat" pizza, it means that THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE RIGHT AGAIN.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
The Return of The Saturday Post
It's been a long time since I've updated this blog on a Saturday. It's been an even longer time since I updated it in the middle of the night...although by this point, I guess it really qualifies as "very early in the morning," since the birds are already starting to sing outside. But for a person who generally would still be asleep for 4 or 5 hours longer, it's hard to think of much else to do at this hour, this hour being 5 AM.
The thing is, I was expecting that a few weeks from now, I'd be up at all kinds of ungodly hours. It's just that I didn't quite expect that to start just quite yet. I went to bed last night at about midnight and woke up at about 2:45 AM. After 30 minutes of rolling and thrashing, it became clear that I was starting to get on McMoose's sleeping nerves, so I decided to come read in the living room, confident that I'd drift back to sleep within 20 minutes.
Instead, I read for over an hour and realized that I was LESS sleepy than when I started the process. So I opted for the natural solution, which was to apply the first coat of stain to a dresser for The Bug. Because really, what else do you do when you're fully awake at 4:30 in the morning? And then, I made a cup of tea, freaked out about losing the cap to the milk, found the cap to the milk sitting INSIDE the bowl of sugar (oops), and am now writing this post.
The irony of this situation is that I'm pretty sure the reason I woke up is because The Bug was up to his usual antics, but by the time I was fully awake, he had fallen back asleep, which I think is not fair at all and if he wakes someone up, he should at least have the decency to stay awake and entertain that person by kicking a coaster or two off her belly.
The thing is, I was expecting that a few weeks from now, I'd be up at all kinds of ungodly hours. It's just that I didn't quite expect that to start just quite yet. I went to bed last night at about midnight and woke up at about 2:45 AM. After 30 minutes of rolling and thrashing, it became clear that I was starting to get on McMoose's sleeping nerves, so I decided to come read in the living room, confident that I'd drift back to sleep within 20 minutes.
Instead, I read for over an hour and realized that I was LESS sleepy than when I started the process. So I opted for the natural solution, which was to apply the first coat of stain to a dresser for The Bug. Because really, what else do you do when you're fully awake at 4:30 in the morning? And then, I made a cup of tea, freaked out about losing the cap to the milk, found the cap to the milk sitting INSIDE the bowl of sugar (oops), and am now writing this post.
The irony of this situation is that I'm pretty sure the reason I woke up is because The Bug was up to his usual antics, but by the time I was fully awake, he had fallen back asleep, which I think is not fair at all and if he wakes someone up, he should at least have the decency to stay awake and entertain that person by kicking a coaster or two off her belly.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Drawing A Line In The Sand
Dear Yellow Cat,
Hi. I understand you've been feeling a bit neglected lately? Or at least, I'm guessing that's the reason for your currently horrendous behavior. So in light of the fact that you're probably going through some issues right now, I'm trying to be pleasant. I really, really am. But you're testing the limits of my patience. I mean, first there was the whole running-away-and-getting-stuck-in-a-tree incident, which was annoying, but at least it was a one time thing, so I can overlook it. But this whole screaming-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-FOR-NO-GOOD-REASON thing? Yeah, that needs to stop. Now.
Oh, and the climbing on tables and counters and getting into the crib at every opportunity, and then WATCHING ME TO SEE MY REACTION? Also has to stop. And finally, when I yell at you to get out of the closet/crib/other places you KNOW are off limits, that does not mean that I want you to come and try to sit on my lap instead. In case you haven't noticed, you're large and what's left of my lap is small.
You have about 4 weeks to straighten yourself out. After that, there's a fairly good chance I'll sell you to the circus as tiger food. Consider yourself warned.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Stinging Things
Even before I got pregnant, I had this image in my head of how lovely it would be to go sit on the balcony with the Dog and a baby and just relax in the warm air. For the past several months, I've been building on this image and I was so glad that The Bug would be born in early summer so that we'd have several warm months during which we could sit out there and watch the trees and the birds. The flaw in the plan, of course, is that along with trees and birds, there are also BEES flying around in the summer. And wasps. And other flying, stinging things. And apparently, many of these flying, stinging things have decided that my balcony is the perfect place to call home.
So far, McMoose has sprayed 2 wasp hives that we found out there. The first one was fairly small and only had one wasp, but the second one was up inside the siding, and so far, there have been four or five dead wasps that have fallen out of there. Needless to say, I have been very abruptly brought back to reality, which is to say that I remember now why I'm not an outdoorsy kind of gal. Blech!
So far, McMoose has sprayed 2 wasp hives that we found out there. The first one was fairly small and only had one wasp, but the second one was up inside the siding, and so far, there have been four or five dead wasps that have fallen out of there. Needless to say, I have been very abruptly brought back to reality, which is to say that I remember now why I'm not an outdoorsy kind of gal. Blech!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Thesis: Submitted
Earlier today, I sent the final draft of my thesis out to my committee members. This means, of course, that I no longer get to fix any misspelled words or misplaced commas and that I no longer get to run "just one more" statistical test on the data. So knowing that once I hit the send button on my email, it would quite literally be out of my hands, I sat there for a full 17 minutes (Yes, I counted), staring at the screen and quietly freaking out, until my friend threatened to come over and hit the send button herself. And then, the instant it was Out There, I remembered at least three changes that I should have made, but didn't. Of course.
Afterwards, I did the pregnant-woman equivalent of having a beer, which is to say that I had a Very Large brownie and two glasses of milk. Ahh, the crazy life...
So next on my thesis to-do list is finding clothes for the defense that (a) look professional, (b) fully cover the belly, and (c) are inexpensive enough that I won't have to feel guilty that I only plan to wear them once. I feel this will be at least as much, if not more of a challenge than it was to actually conduct the study and write up the paper.
Afterwards, I did the pregnant-woman equivalent of having a beer, which is to say that I had a Very Large brownie and two glasses of milk. Ahh, the crazy life...
So next on my thesis to-do list is finding clothes for the defense that (a) look professional, (b) fully cover the belly, and (c) are inexpensive enough that I won't have to feel guilty that I only plan to wear them once. I feel this will be at least as much, if not more of a challenge than it was to actually conduct the study and write up the paper.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Going and Going and Going
As McMoose was leaving for work this morning, he told me not to "over-exert" myself. Up until about a week ago, this would have been an absolutely ridiculous piece of advice because for the past 8 months, my energy levels have hovered at about zero, so my idea of exertion has been to move from the couch to the bed. Now, all of a sudden, all that energy I lacked for so long has apparently caught up to me because I. Cannot. Sit. Still.
So far today, I have:
-Put a third (and hopefully, final) coat of wood stain on a bookshelf.
-Walked the dog.
-Worked on the thesis.
-Tried (and failed miserably) to sand the rough spots off a second bookshelf.
-Washed one load of laundry.
-Folded and put away two loads of laundry.
-Worked on a quilt that I started in February and am still nowhere close to finishing.
-Worked on the thesis some more.
-Dusted every wood surface in this apartment--including the crib, which was covered in fluorescent yellow pollen and cat hair. Awesome. Here's hoping The Bug doesn't inherit McMoose's respiratory allergies.
-Cleaned every mirror and window in this apartment. You know the adds for window cleaner where the birds fly into the glass? Yeah, that totally just happened here--except it wasn't a bird, it was a bee. I think that still counts.
-Seriously considered bathing the Dog, but realized that I am no longer capable of bending over the bathtub to shampoo him.
-Darned a hole in a sock. Realized that I don't know how to darn holes in sock. Realized also that I lost the pair to this particular sock about two years ago. Considered throwing out the sock, but apparently, I have some crazy attachment to it, so it is now sitting at the bottom of my sock drawer.
And now, I'm going to continue my impression of a deranged Energizer bunny and go put finishing glaze on the first bookshelf, while resolutely ignoring the second bookshelf's existence.
So far today, I have:
-Put a third (and hopefully, final) coat of wood stain on a bookshelf.
-Walked the dog.
-Worked on the thesis.
-Tried (and failed miserably) to sand the rough spots off a second bookshelf.
-Washed one load of laundry.
-Folded and put away two loads of laundry.
-Worked on a quilt that I started in February and am still nowhere close to finishing.
-Worked on the thesis some more.
-Dusted every wood surface in this apartment--including the crib, which was covered in fluorescent yellow pollen and cat hair. Awesome. Here's hoping The Bug doesn't inherit McMoose's respiratory allergies.
-Cleaned every mirror and window in this apartment. You know the adds for window cleaner where the birds fly into the glass? Yeah, that totally just happened here--except it wasn't a bird, it was a bee. I think that still counts.
-Seriously considered bathing the Dog, but realized that I am no longer capable of bending over the bathtub to shampoo him.
-Darned a hole in a sock. Realized that I don't know how to darn holes in sock. Realized also that I lost the pair to this particular sock about two years ago. Considered throwing out the sock, but apparently, I have some crazy attachment to it, so it is now sitting at the bottom of my sock drawer.
And now, I'm going to continue my impression of a deranged Energizer bunny and go put finishing glaze on the first bookshelf, while resolutely ignoring the second bookshelf's existence.
Monday, April 13, 2009
I had to call not one, but two separate people on the phone today. The first place was the animal hospital/kennel where the Dog will be staying while I'm in the hospital. That conversation went like this:
Me: I'd like to talk to you about your "pet hotel." I'm going to need to board my dog, but I'm not sure when. I'm pregnant and due next month, so I was wondering how much notice I'd need to give...
Woman: That depends on whether we're booked up or not.
Me: Um. Right. So. Do you usually get booked up at this time of year? Or are there usually availabilities?
Woman: We usually have availabilities, but sometimes, we get booked up.
On the one hand, I do have my answers now (somewhat), but on the other hand, those answers? NOT REMOTELY HELPFUL.
And then, I called a man to ask him about a rental property for my friend, who needs to move ASAP and doesn't have the time to call every rental agency in Raleigh. Some excerpts from that conversation:
Me: Hi, I'm calling to find out about a rental property, I think the address is such-and-such.
Man: Okay.
Me: I just wanted to know about things like rent, number of bedrooms, etc
Man: Okay.
*Pause, during which I expect him to tell me something about the property. He does not.*
Me: Uh, okay, what's the rent?
Man: Well, there are three units.
Me: Two...uh...isn't it a house? Or is it an apartment building?
Man: It's got three units.
Me: *Realizing I'm getting nowhere with that line of questioning* Uh-huh. Okay. And the...rent...?
Man: $650 for the bottom, $850 for the top.
Me: Great. And do you know about the total square feet of each unit?
Man: Ahh....nope. But they're as big as the size of the house, if you look at it from outside.
And it continued like that while I asked about the number of bedrooms and bathrooms, the deposit, the application fee, the pet fee, etc. To the question about the pet fee, by the way, he responded that pets weren't allowed in that unit, but they're allowed in his single family units. When I asked if he had single family units available, instead of answering the question, he went on a little rant about how if he made an exception for my friend, he'd have to make an exception for everyone.
All in all, two very productive conversations, I think. And at the end of them, I had to go take a three hour nap.
Me: I'd like to talk to you about your "pet hotel." I'm going to need to board my dog, but I'm not sure when. I'm pregnant and due next month, so I was wondering how much notice I'd need to give...
Woman: That depends on whether we're booked up or not.
Me: Um. Right. So. Do you usually get booked up at this time of year? Or are there usually availabilities?
Woman: We usually have availabilities, but sometimes, we get booked up.
On the one hand, I do have my answers now (somewhat), but on the other hand, those answers? NOT REMOTELY HELPFUL.
And then, I called a man to ask him about a rental property for my friend, who needs to move ASAP and doesn't have the time to call every rental agency in Raleigh. Some excerpts from that conversation:
Me: Hi, I'm calling to find out about a rental property, I think the address is such-and-such.
Man: Okay.
Me: I just wanted to know about things like rent, number of bedrooms, etc
Man: Okay.
*Pause, during which I expect him to tell me something about the property. He does not.*
Me: Uh, okay, what's the rent?
Man: Well, there are three units.
Me: Two...uh...isn't it a house? Or is it an apartment building?
Man: It's got three units.
Me: *Realizing I'm getting nowhere with that line of questioning* Uh-huh. Okay. And the...rent...?
Man: $650 for the bottom, $850 for the top.
Me: Great. And do you know about the total square feet of each unit?
Man: Ahh....nope. But they're as big as the size of the house, if you look at it from outside.
And it continued like that while I asked about the number of bedrooms and bathrooms, the deposit, the application fee, the pet fee, etc. To the question about the pet fee, by the way, he responded that pets weren't allowed in that unit, but they're allowed in his single family units. When I asked if he had single family units available, instead of answering the question, he went on a little rant about how if he made an exception for my friend, he'd have to make an exception for everyone.
All in all, two very productive conversations, I think. And at the end of them, I had to go take a three hour nap.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Cat-ventures
Earlier this week, I had a meeting with my advisor, and I arrived feeling more than a little run down, in large part because of the mile long walk from the parking lot to her building. Apparently, my run down-ness showed because approximately 12 seconds into the meeting, she suggested that perhaps it's time I started thinking about working from home more. Since most of my current work involves making final touches to the thesis document, I decided to take her advice and have spent three days this week working from home.
Yesterday, I went in to the office for the sole purpose of getting some books and articles that I need to continue my work, but found this morning that I had left them still sitting in the car. So after trying (and failing, miserably) to put my feet into flip-flops, I decided that house slippers would work just fine, and opened the door...only to notice a yellow streak go running past me. My first reaction was to yell for the Dog, because he's usually the one who's most likely to plan an escape, but as it turned out, this time, it was Yellow Cat.
Up until now, any time Yellow Cat has gotten out of the apartment, he has sat confusedly outside the door and screams. Today, of course, he ran straight for the stairs and headed downstairs. Which made it necessary for me to waddle-run down the stairs while hissing at him to "Get back here this INSTANT!" My hissing was completely useless, as it turned out, because Yellow Cat made it all the way downstairs and out to the parking lot, where he promptly CLIMBED A TREE, and then proceeded to FREAK OUT about the fact that he was in a tree. So there I am, 8 months pregnant, in my house slippers, standing on my tip-toes and doing my best to speak in calming tones while trying to catch a screaming, angry cat. Meanwhile, the neighbor's teenage kids and their friends are all watching me and trying not to laugh.
After about 5 minutes of this, it finally occurred to one of the kids that hey! Maybe we should go offer to help! So one of the taller ones came over and 15 seconds later, a very grumpy Yellow Cat was returned to my possession. He has spent the past two hours "recovering" from his adventures and I have spent the past two hours trying to get the mud out of my slippers and wondering what possessed me to get the demon-cat in the first place.
...I might not be cut out for this "working from home" stuff after all...
Yesterday, I went in to the office for the sole purpose of getting some books and articles that I need to continue my work, but found this morning that I had left them still sitting in the car. So after trying (and failing, miserably) to put my feet into flip-flops, I decided that house slippers would work just fine, and opened the door...only to notice a yellow streak go running past me. My first reaction was to yell for the Dog, because he's usually the one who's most likely to plan an escape, but as it turned out, this time, it was Yellow Cat.
Up until now, any time Yellow Cat has gotten out of the apartment, he has sat confusedly outside the door and screams. Today, of course, he ran straight for the stairs and headed downstairs. Which made it necessary for me to waddle-run down the stairs while hissing at him to "Get back here this INSTANT!" My hissing was completely useless, as it turned out, because Yellow Cat made it all the way downstairs and out to the parking lot, where he promptly CLIMBED A TREE, and then proceeded to FREAK OUT about the fact that he was in a tree. So there I am, 8 months pregnant, in my house slippers, standing on my tip-toes and doing my best to speak in calming tones while trying to catch a screaming, angry cat. Meanwhile, the neighbor's teenage kids and their friends are all watching me and trying not to laugh.
After about 5 minutes of this, it finally occurred to one of the kids that hey! Maybe we should go offer to help! So one of the taller ones came over and 15 seconds later, a very grumpy Yellow Cat was returned to my possession. He has spent the past two hours "recovering" from his adventures and I have spent the past two hours trying to get the mud out of my slippers and wondering what possessed me to get the demon-cat in the first place.
...I might not be cut out for this "working from home" stuff after all...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
35 weeks
It astounds me that I'm just 5 weeks away from my due date. On the one hand, it seems so close, yet on the other, each day feels like it has suddenly grown twice as long. This might have something to do with the fact that I'm spending more and more of my "sleeping" hours awake, in part because The Bug practices his Jazzercize at approximately 3 a.m., and in part because McMoose has recently taken to talking (incoherently) in his sleep. Awesome timing, McMoose.
In any case, here's a recent picture of the belly:
My hair has gotten considerably shorter since the last time I posted one of these, thanks to a heavily tattooed woman at the salon in the mall. In exchange, my feet have gotten much larger. I don't know which I'm more excited about: getting to meet The Bug in 5 weeks or getting to wear shoes again.
The Bug continues to spend his days and nights trying to wedge different body parts into my ribs, but on the plus side, he's far more entertaining since his legs have gotten strong enough to kick various things off my belly. So far, we've been working mainly with pencils, coasters, and drinking glasses. I'm thinking this will come in handy when he grows up to be a professional trampoline-ist.
In any case, here's a recent picture of the belly:
My hair has gotten considerably shorter since the last time I posted one of these, thanks to a heavily tattooed woman at the salon in the mall. In exchange, my feet have gotten much larger. I don't know which I'm more excited about: getting to meet The Bug in 5 weeks or getting to wear shoes again.The Bug continues to spend his days and nights trying to wedge different body parts into my ribs, but on the plus side, he's far more entertaining since his legs have gotten strong enough to kick various things off my belly. So far, we've been working mainly with pencils, coasters, and drinking glasses. I'm thinking this will come in handy when he grows up to be a professional trampoline-ist.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
When Dreaming Ends
Just before I woke up this morning, I had a dream that it was 5 AM and I couldn't sleep, so instead, I got up, walked and fed The Dog, and then worked on some of the final edits for my thesis, before going back to bed. So when I actually woke up, I was thoroughly confused because I didn't know whether the dream had really been a dream, or whether I had truly woken up at 5:30 and done all of those things. After thinking about it for a while, I realized that it would have been completely uncharacteristic of me to walk The Dog that early in the morning. Plus, The Dog was acting like a complete fool and he usually only does that when (a) he hasn't been fed yet and (b) he hasn't been walked yet.
Feeling confident that the dream had, in fact, been just a dream, I proceeded to feed The Dog and since McMoose was working from home today, asked him to take The Dog out. And then, I meandered here and there, did some crosswords, answered some emails, and generally puttered around with the idea of doing some work. Finally, after lunch, I decided that it was time to get serious, so I opened up my thesis document...only to find that the edits I had planned on making today had already been made.
So. Did I actually wake up at 5 and do all the things I thought I had dreamt about (in which case, The Dog made out like a bandit today)? Or did I make the edits yesterday and forget? Or did I just edit the thesis and then dream about doing the rest? I'm so confused!
Feeling confident that the dream had, in fact, been just a dream, I proceeded to feed The Dog and since McMoose was working from home today, asked him to take The Dog out. And then, I meandered here and there, did some crosswords, answered some emails, and generally puttered around with the idea of doing some work. Finally, after lunch, I decided that it was time to get serious, so I opened up my thesis document...only to find that the edits I had planned on making today had already been made.
So. Did I actually wake up at 5 and do all the things I thought I had dreamt about (in which case, The Dog made out like a bandit today)? Or did I make the edits yesterday and forget? Or did I just edit the thesis and then dream about doing the rest? I'm so confused!
Monday, April 6, 2009
A Day for Close Calls
I was late for a meeting this morning because of a doctor's visit, and a trip to the pharmacy, and the fact that it was raining and the thought of being late sent me into a mild panic. So I drove a little bit faster than I should have, a little bit faster than I was comfortable with, especially given the rain and the slick roads. And during that drive, I knew that one skid, one tap of my brakes at the wrong moment, one miscalculation about the depth of a puddle could have had disastrous results, but still, I didn't slow down. Instead, I crossed my fingers, hoped for the best, and didn't relax until I pulled safely into my parking spot.
This afternoon, it was bright and sunny, and all traces of the storms of this morning had passed. Even the roads had dried up fairly well, so I was much more relaxed on the drive home, adjusting the temperature controls, singing along with the radio, admiring the purple blossoms on the trees by the side of the road. So the crunch of metal that was loud enough to be heard over the Three Doors Down song playing on the radio came as a surprise, when an oncoming van and pickup truck collided with each other. The sight of the van pushing the pickup towards my car was thoroughly unexpected. The feeling of dread in my stomach as I watched the bumper of the pickup come flying through the air towards my already-damaged windshield was a shock. And as I stepped on my brakes, hard, the sight in the rear view mirror of the SUV that was going too fast to stop in time was terrifying.
And somehow, as I sat there in my car, bracing myself for the blow, the bumper flew off to the left, missing my car by inches and falling harmlessly to the ground beside me instead. The driver of the SUV realized, as I did, that he wouldn't have time to stop, so instead, he swerved to the right, into the grass, and came to a stop on the other side of me. And there I was, in what seemed to be the eye of the storm, completely untouched.
The what-ifs of the situation left me breathless. If this had happened this morning, when I was driving faster and my brakes would have been less effective because of the rain, when the SUV wouldn't have been able to swerve off the road without hydroplaning, when the pickup truck would probably have slid farther than it did, the results could have been drastically different. If the driver of the SUV had made the more logical choice and swerved into the left lane to avoid me instead of into the grass, he would have hit the oncoming bumper, and then he probably would have hit me. If the driver of the van had realized the fact that there was a pickup truck following close behind him, he probably wouldn't have attempted the u-turn that he was in the middle of making when the accident happened, and then we all would have passed each other in a completely harmless interaction. Instead, there are now two people who are suddenly having a wonderful day, feeling lucky to have escaped this accident, and two others whose days have gotten much more hectic, as they deal with insurance companies and police reports.
I'm grateful to count myself among the first two.
This afternoon, it was bright and sunny, and all traces of the storms of this morning had passed. Even the roads had dried up fairly well, so I was much more relaxed on the drive home, adjusting the temperature controls, singing along with the radio, admiring the purple blossoms on the trees by the side of the road. So the crunch of metal that was loud enough to be heard over the Three Doors Down song playing on the radio came as a surprise, when an oncoming van and pickup truck collided with each other. The sight of the van pushing the pickup towards my car was thoroughly unexpected. The feeling of dread in my stomach as I watched the bumper of the pickup come flying through the air towards my already-damaged windshield was a shock. And as I stepped on my brakes, hard, the sight in the rear view mirror of the SUV that was going too fast to stop in time was terrifying.
And somehow, as I sat there in my car, bracing myself for the blow, the bumper flew off to the left, missing my car by inches and falling harmlessly to the ground beside me instead. The driver of the SUV realized, as I did, that he wouldn't have time to stop, so instead, he swerved to the right, into the grass, and came to a stop on the other side of me. And there I was, in what seemed to be the eye of the storm, completely untouched.
The what-ifs of the situation left me breathless. If this had happened this morning, when I was driving faster and my brakes would have been less effective because of the rain, when the SUV wouldn't have been able to swerve off the road without hydroplaning, when the pickup truck would probably have slid farther than it did, the results could have been drastically different. If the driver of the SUV had made the more logical choice and swerved into the left lane to avoid me instead of into the grass, he would have hit the oncoming bumper, and then he probably would have hit me. If the driver of the van had realized the fact that there was a pickup truck following close behind him, he probably wouldn't have attempted the u-turn that he was in the middle of making when the accident happened, and then we all would have passed each other in a completely harmless interaction. Instead, there are now two people who are suddenly having a wonderful day, feeling lucky to have escaped this accident, and two others whose days have gotten much more hectic, as they deal with insurance companies and police reports.
I'm grateful to count myself among the first two.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Under the Weather, Part Deux
After feeling icky all day yesterday, the perfectly normal, harmless contractions that I've been experiencing for the majority of this pregnancy suddenly decided to kick into high gear, which prompted me to tentatively call the after-hours line of my OB practice and the midwife who returned my call promptly instructed me to go to the hospital for a check-up. As it turned out, everything was fine and although the contractions were annoying, they were not doing anything crazy or dangerous like, say, putting me into labor, so really, the worst part of that whole experience was the open-in-the-back hospital gown, which is to say that it wasn't bad at all.
But. As un-bad as the whole thing was, the fact remains that I'm still having more contractions that I'm used to, and I understand that they're not doing anything harmful, but...that doesn't really stop them from sucking. Apparently, all this is attributable to a urinary tract infection, for which I am now on antibiotics, but until those start to work, I'm in this weird limbo state of not-in-labor-but-incapable-of-functioning-like-a-normal-person because:
(a) the contractions are strong enough to wake me up when I'm asleep.
(b) they're strong enough that when I have one, I lose track of whatever conversational thread I was trying to follow, so I sit there staring blankly at whoever I'm talking to.
(c) when I have them while I'm driving, I totally lose my focus on the road, as I found out this morning when I almost rear-ended a cement mixer.
(d) they make me shiver in a kind of uncontrollable way, which doesn't really bother me, but it seems to freak out other people in the room.
Plus, I feel pretty idiotic right now because I've had these infections many a time in the past, so I should have been fully able to recognize the symptoms before it got as bad as it did, but instead, I thought, "Oh, that's just The Bug kicking my bladder in a strange way, that's all."
But. As un-bad as the whole thing was, the fact remains that I'm still having more contractions that I'm used to, and I understand that they're not doing anything harmful, but...that doesn't really stop them from sucking. Apparently, all this is attributable to a urinary tract infection, for which I am now on antibiotics, but until those start to work, I'm in this weird limbo state of not-in-labor-but-incapable-of-functioning-like-a-normal-person because:
(a) the contractions are strong enough to wake me up when I'm asleep.
(b) they're strong enough that when I have one, I lose track of whatever conversational thread I was trying to follow, so I sit there staring blankly at whoever I'm talking to.
(c) when I have them while I'm driving, I totally lose my focus on the road, as I found out this morning when I almost rear-ended a cement mixer.
(d) they make me shiver in a kind of uncontrollable way, which doesn't really bother me, but it seems to freak out other people in the room.
Plus, I feel pretty idiotic right now because I've had these infections many a time in the past, so I should have been fully able to recognize the symptoms before it got as bad as it did, but instead, I thought, "Oh, that's just The Bug kicking my bladder in a strange way, that's all."
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Under the Weather
I was thrilled when I passed the morning sickness phase of this pregnancy because even though I didn't have a particularly bad case of it (i.e.- I can count the number of times I actually threw up on one hand), it still wasn't pleasant to be constantly nauseous. And maybe even worse than the nausea was the ridiculous oversensitivity to the smell of being indoors, which came as a complete surprise because no one had ever warned me about that. If someone had tried to tell me that "Hey, you're going to wish you lived in a box because every time you enter a building, that building will smell like stale bacon and there is NOTHING worse than the smell of stale bacon," I would probably have thought that person was crazy.
Imagine my great surprise when I woke up this morning feeling nauseous. And somewhat shaky. And somewhat like I used to during the first 13 weeks of this pregnancy. Except that right now, instead of smelling like stale bacon, the world smells like the inside of an airplane--a little bit metallic, a little bit like the alcohol wipes they give you, a little bit like over-purified air. And although this is better than stale bacon, it still leaves a lot to be desired. Here's hoping this is a temporary situation and that it will resolve itself soon because I am not feeling this whole regression-to-an-earlier-stage-of-pregnancy thing that seems to be going on here.
Imagine my great surprise when I woke up this morning feeling nauseous. And somewhat shaky. And somewhat like I used to during the first 13 weeks of this pregnancy. Except that right now, instead of smelling like stale bacon, the world smells like the inside of an airplane--a little bit metallic, a little bit like the alcohol wipes they give you, a little bit like over-purified air. And although this is better than stale bacon, it still leaves a lot to be desired. Here's hoping this is a temporary situation and that it will resolve itself soon because I am not feeling this whole regression-to-an-earlier-stage-of-pregnancy thing that seems to be going on here.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
April Foolishness
I'm not big on the April Fool's thing because (a) I'm never together enough to plot and carry out a really good joke (b) when you habitually forget what day it is and people walk around playing pranks on you and YOU CAN NEVER RETALIATE because you're a terrible prankster, it's not so much fun. This is also why I've never been fond of the whole pinch-the-person-who's-not-wearing-green tradition on St. Patrick's day. But for the past couple of years, I really haven't been pranked because other people in grad school suffer the same issues as me and either don't remember the date or just don't care enough to put in any real effort. This year, however, the world seems to be full of pranks.
-My alarm pranked me this morning by ringing at 8:03, 8:18, 8:33, 8:48, 8:49, and 8:51. The times that I had actually set it for were 8, 8:15, 8:30, and 8:45. It's entirely possible that there's actually a problem with the alarm and that it wasn't just a diabolical plan to confuse me first thing in the morning, but then again, it's also possible that the thing is possessed by the spirit of a prankster.
-The weather people pranked me by saying it was supposed to be cold and rainy, but in reality, it was actually pretty warm and pretty dry (for the most part). So I got to walk around looking foolish in my raincoat, while everyone else (who apparently got the RIGHT forecast) was walking around in t-shirts.
-My computer at work pranked me by telling me that it had saved the changes to a document I was working on, but not actually saving them. Granted, this is the kind of thing that computer might do any day of the year, but still...
-When I get home, The Dog usually jumps around in his cage and generally acts crazy. Today, for the first time EVER, not only was he not jumping, he actually stayed asleep. Even when I went into the room and called his name. Which of course, led me to the conclusion that he was dead or dying because that's just completely abnormal behavior for him. The minute I opened the cage door, however, he got up and dashed out of the room in one quick flash, and then spent the next 15 minutes running around the apartment, crashing into the walls, and trying to eat the cats. So...I'm pretty sure he's not dying. Unless one of the cats decides to kill him, which judging by their reaction to his little rampage, they very well might.
-My alarm pranked me this morning by ringing at 8:03, 8:18, 8:33, 8:48, 8:49, and 8:51. The times that I had actually set it for were 8, 8:15, 8:30, and 8:45. It's entirely possible that there's actually a problem with the alarm and that it wasn't just a diabolical plan to confuse me first thing in the morning, but then again, it's also possible that the thing is possessed by the spirit of a prankster.
-The weather people pranked me by saying it was supposed to be cold and rainy, but in reality, it was actually pretty warm and pretty dry (for the most part). So I got to walk around looking foolish in my raincoat, while everyone else (who apparently got the RIGHT forecast) was walking around in t-shirts.
-My computer at work pranked me by telling me that it had saved the changes to a document I was working on, but not actually saving them. Granted, this is the kind of thing that computer might do any day of the year, but still...
-When I get home, The Dog usually jumps around in his cage and generally acts crazy. Today, for the first time EVER, not only was he not jumping, he actually stayed asleep. Even when I went into the room and called his name. Which of course, led me to the conclusion that he was dead or dying because that's just completely abnormal behavior for him. The minute I opened the cage door, however, he got up and dashed out of the room in one quick flash, and then spent the next 15 minutes running around the apartment, crashing into the walls, and trying to eat the cats. So...I'm pretty sure he's not dying. Unless one of the cats decides to kill him, which judging by their reaction to his little rampage, they very well might.
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