Friday, March 31, 2006

A first!

Today Mark felt the baby moving when he put his hand on my stomach. That's the first time this has happened! The movements have gotten bigger (it's the end of week 24 today).

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Weird sick person

My last post on being sick made me think about what a bad sick person I am. I always feel as though, if only I were a better, worthier person, I would not be sick. Or, the voices in my head tell me I am not really sick, just a big self-pitying whiner. I'm going to have to go ahead and blame this on my family. Dad had a lot of mantras about the evils of self-pity, toughen up, mind over matter, etc. I know it's a crazy way to be, so I fight against it, but all the years of programming make it hard. Mark can attest that when I got bad burns, it took me hours and hours to agree to go to the hospital because I was so determined to overcome them with the powers of my mind. Ha ha.

On the other hand, when I first got pregnant, I thought I was coming down with every single symptom I read about in my book. The worst was when I read about “excessive salivation.” It had not occurred to me that I was salivating excessively, but after I read that this was a common pregnancy symptom, I began focusing on my saliva. Concentrating on it, it did start to seem excessive. I started to focus on swallowing, and it seemed as though I was swallowing almost constantly. I began keeping a tissue box next to the couch so I could spit out some of the excess saliva instead of having to keep swallowing all the time. It seemed like I had to spit every three seconds. The thing is, I am not really sure I WAS salivating excessively, just becoming more conscious of my normal salivation.

When I first starting getting nausea from pregnancy, I was pretty sure it was a “mind over matter” situation. I was sure I only thought I was nauseated because I had read about it, just as the excessive salivation was probably a figment of my imagination. I castigated myself for being so weak as to think I was nauseated. I was sure I was going to be one of those transcendent women who never feel sick during pregnancy. But then the barfing convinced me that something physical was truly happening that could not be overcome simply by the powers of my mind. So did the fainting. The jury is still out on excessive salivation and stretch marks (I think those may just be marks from the lining of my underwear).

I am sick

Yes, I am. I feel pretty terrible. It's just a cold, I think, but the pregnancy books and advice nurse people say I can't use too many heavy-duty drugs, which means I've been having a hard time sleeping, I am so congested. I have taken a few Sudafed at night (books say it's okay) and I have some sugar-free throat lozenges. If any of the formerly or currently pregnant have any ideas, though, I would welcome them!

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Wildside pics

This was my first time hearing Mark perform with Wildside, the Motley Crue tribute band, which went on after Destroyer. I must say, I was impressed. They sounded great... and look how they LOOK! I mean, Mark wore fake leather pants....
(Ooh, Mark posted another good pic on his blog: http://mundanemark.blogspot.com/)





Monday, March 27, 2006

Destroyer pics...

...from the Time Out in Concord, from this Saturday, March 25. (I think they spell their name "Desstroyer," so that the first four letters resemble "KISS," but I just can't bring myself to do it). Here are a few and I am going to post some pictures of Wildside in another post. About these pics: Mark is Ace, the guitarist. One of the pics shows him with his trademark smoking guitar (sorry, I can't give away the secret of its supernatural powers).



Mark as Ace (he looks so blase for a rock star!)



The guitar is smokin'



More Mark/Ace



The glory of Destroyer

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Some updates

1) My beautiful and brilliant and charming friend Linda has been in town for a Renaissance literature conference and just left this morning. You will think I am biased, but I have the *loveliest* friends, as I would say all the same things about my friend Mita who visited right before Linda. I am so proud of my friends. If they are any reflection on me, I must be a fabulous human being :-) Okay, not, but in all seriousness, I am very appreciative of and grateful to my friends. They are family-like to me. (For anyone who doesn’t know, I am not ashamed to tell you that my own sister has been in town from Seattle for a week and opted not to see me at all. I am not whining; I feel very lucky that I have women in my life who are like sisters.)

Linda introduced me to Alexander Calder, an artist who was part of the surrealism movement of the 20s and 30s. She suggested a visit to SFMOMA, where we saw the most captivating exhibit of his art, including a good selection of his mobiles, which I feel I would flail about and not do justice to in attempting to describe—-I guess you could loosely describe them as abstract, imaginative, sometimes somewhat whimsical kinetic sculptures--but they are beautiful and creepy sometimes and amusing all at once, as were some of his made-up “beasts” (with names like Devil Fish, Apple Monster, and Parasite). Folks who live around here, I hope you will get the chance to go see the exhibit. It’s there till May 21. The posters for it around town, at least the ones I’ve seen, are featuring a funny, odd piece of found-object art (I think) called “Wooden Bottle with Hairs,” but you also need to see the strange dangly mobiles and “stabiles” (some of which have parts that move, too, but which stand on the floor as opposed to hanging from wire). Trust me, you will want to steal one. I also really liked his wire sculptures “Acrobat,” “Fishbowl,” and “Hercules and the Lion.” I like it when art makes me stare and giggle.

We got reprimanded by a museum guard for trying to take a little shot on a cell phone, surreptitiously. Add one to my collection of museum guard reprimand anecdotes!

We also briefly perused the surrealist photography exhibit and saw some very cool pieces but were running out of energy at that point and so I feel I’d need to go back and see it again to do justice. And we went to the exhibit of photography from the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, there till May 30, which Mark and I had been wanting to see for awhile. All in all, I will not pontificate but just say there are some exhibits well worth seeing at MOMA right now.

It was fun having Linda in town and introducing her to some of my good friends here; I will miss her! Excitingly, though, Amy and David and their daughter Adele are arriving today and I hope to see as much of them this week as possible.

2) Last night we went to an engagement party in Berkeley for Mark’s cousin Anna and her fiancé Ron-—very lovely, though we couldn’t stay as long as we wanted to, because we were headed right on to a show at the Time Out in Concord, where Mark played in two bands: first Destroyer, a KISS tribute band in which he is the guitarist Ace Frehley (I refuse to spell it as they do, "Desstroyer"--it's not right), then Wildside, a Motley Crue tribute band in which he is Vince Neil. I have a ton of pictures from the show and will probably display some of them shortly in another post. There was an enthusiastic crowd, which made me happy, and our friends John and Rachel and Tom and Rachelle were there. Yay for me! (Didn't have to lurk in the club alone.) Mark was a little disappointed in himself because as Ace, he tripped and fell backward onstage after getting tangled in some of the equipment cords. It didn’t help that he was wearing huge platform shoes. It in no way damaged the evening, however, in my opinion, and he was able to rebound beautifully in Wildside, all resplendent in a brand new pair of fake leather pants.

Because I’ve been so paranoid about exposing the baby to a lot of loud noise, and also because I don't drink anymore (obviously) and have a more limited ability to appreciate the joy of bars, my original plan was to hang out in a Starbucks around the corner and read my book, then go over to the show later and just see part of it. However, I was driven out of the Starbucks almost immediately by the presence of two insane and possibly tweaking men. They were busy harassing two unfortunate fifteen-year-old girls, who luckily had each other and cell phones and so were able (I think) to call their parents to come rescue them (the management of teenaged boys did nothing to help). Both of the tweaking men sat staring steadily at the two girls, sometimes silently (which was in itself very creepy), while at other times the more gregarious of the two chorused streams of bizarre and disturbing nonsense in their direction. The more normal of the two had approached them and learned that they were sophomores in high school, a theme that the crazier one took up, then began repeating, “They’re soft s’mores! They’re soft s’mores! They’re soft s’mores!” over and over and over again, punctuated by bursts of loud, hyena-like laughter. I thought about waiting till the girls’ parents showed up, but I decided to leave, because I was sure that when the two girls left, I would be their next target, as the only other woman (or person) in the creepy Starbucks. I would have nobody to call to rescue me and would have to walk alone in the dark from the Starbucks to the Time Out, very possibly pursued by these two men. I thought it was sad that my plan to read my book was derailed and that I had to flee the Starbucks to enjoy the comparatively much less creepy crowd at the BAR. It just isn’t right.

3) I am tired because I think I got two hours of sleep last night, at most. I know I have more to say but I am going to have to trail off for now.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Preggo Pig

Today I was literally shoving candy into my mouth as I was talking to a student about her paper--real professional. I think I may actually have spat some candied saliva on her at one point, though she was very polite and didn't say or do anything about it. I try to rationalize that I am eating for two, but honestly, I don't think the baby's going to suffer much if I eat less candy. Why does there have to be so much delicious Writing Center candy?

Finally I had to take the candy jar away from myself and place it in the other consultant's office. See? I *am* my own parent.

Untitled

Last night I dreamed that I had discovered an amazing new product called "Everybody Loves a Turd" and was buying them by the bushelful for all my friends, starting with Dave, that lucky man, whose birthday is Friday. I was enthused, feeling like I had hit the birthday present jackpot with this gift, totally secure in my certainty that every friend I have would adore it. Reese Witherspoon was there, helping sell the product, and giving me advice on how to handle obscene prank phone calls with grace and dignity.

*************

I am (foolishly) watching "A Baby Story" on TLC and this insane woman they are featuring did not scream ONCE during her delivery. She did not make a PEEP. Man, how I resent her.
PS
Okay, now I really hate her. She just said, "Pregnancy is easy. Giving birth is easy. It's raising kids that's hard." Why can't THREE things be hard?

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

I am my own child

In the first days of what has turned out to be an enduring, disturbing addiction to blogs, I had to give parental consent to myself to have a live journal account. My life must be uneventful, because it seemed like a very strange and fascinating experience to me. I filled out the application to have a live journal account, because having an account was supposed to help me read more of my friend’s blog. When I finished, I got a message back saying that although I had filled out a valid birthdate and indicated I was over 13, my application was considered suspect because my computer had previously been used to create illegal accounts for minors! I have no idea how this is possible—-it’s got to be a mistake-- but the message said I could simply continue the application with the consent of my parent. That seemed easy, so I filled out another form giving my child (me) permission to have a live journal account. I had to list another email address for the parent, so I listed my other email address. I filled everything out, and then I got a message (at the Parent Me’s email address) saying my Child Me’s application had been approved. It said that my child, Sarah, was now well on her way and would be getting an email at HER address that would help her get started at live journal; but it suggested that I keep a close eye on her live journal activities. I certainly will! (She can get a little NAWty and SAUCy from time to time...).

Monday, March 20, 2006

I am a spam robot

Why do I say this, you may ask? Because today I failed the "Spam Robot Challenge" while attempting to write to Matt's blog. Although it is the first time I've officially failed, I've got to tell you that there have been MANY times when I was unsure I had the string of code correct, because sometimes it is very HARD TO READ. In this case, I am almost positive I failed because I confused a 9 with a q. I am also pretty positive that this will not be the last time I fail a spam robot challenge.

This irks me. (Though I want to clarify that I am not irked with anyone for *having* a spam robot challenge; I just feel that the blog gods and goddesses should make it easier to read. That way, I would have my status as a human effortlessly confirmed and not have to endure all the terrible existential pain of being told I am a Spam Robot. Sniffle. Would a Spam Robot shed real, salty tears?)

Sunday, March 19, 2006

My furry boys


Friday, March 17, 2006

The Real "Limelight" Lyrics

"Those who wish to be
Must put aside their educations
Get on with the alienation
Communication: the underlying creed."

--As remembered by Mita Mahato and Sarah Goss, thank you.
They're so much more meaningful this way, really.

Mita's visit!

We just had a very fun visit with my birthday twin, Mita (May 24, 1974--best day ever, y'all). We have known each other a long time now... it must be nine years. Almost ten? We did a lot of walking (including in the rain), eating food, and sitting around giggling. Our culinary choices gave everyone gas, which led us to create the following 18th-century novel or Restoration drama alter egos for Mark and me: Sir Blowhard Rockingham (well, that one didn't have so much to do with gas, other than in the metaphorical sense) and Lady Constance Farting. But, for the record, although pregnancy HAS been increasing my indigestion symptoms, they mainly manifest in burping, heartburn, and acid stomachs. It's just that none of those sound quite as good for an 18th-century alter ego as Lady Constance Farting. Maybe Mita will want to dispute my possession of the name?

Mita had to leave to return to her life in Seattle (wahhh), but I loved seeing her and wish she lived here so we could see each other all the time...we have fun together no matter what we are doing (even if it's just sitting in the apartment making up silly quizzes). Thank you so much for coming and making me giggle so much, Mita (I have learned that I have a very obnoxious-sounding laugh).

Well, Mita is gone, but I am Pure Nerd enough to still be greatly amused by the 18th-century Novel Name Game and have just now penned the opening line of Act I, Scene I of my faux-Restoration drama:

Curtain rises. Enter Lady Manley Ballsworthy and Lord Potsie Campervan, clearly tense with one another.

[Please note that no one who reads this blog is Lady Manley or Lord Potsie. But if you would like me to think of an 18th-century novel or Restoration drama name for you, you may apply and I will take your request into consideration. Thank you-- Lady Constance Farting.]

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Baby's First Rush Concert

...well, not exactly. Last night, the baby went to hear her father sing in a Rush tribute band called the Rush Project. I'm not sure what she thought of it; she began kicking a lot during "Working Man" so I think she might have some incipient Marxist tendencies. I sat in the corner holding four sweaters wrapped around my stomach so as to muffle the sound. A hippie lady in back of me informed me that loud music could not harm the baby--only my ATTITUDE toward the loud music could. Apparently if my attitude toward the music is good, the baby will not get hearing damage. Since I seemed to have a bad attitude, though, maybe some damage was done? There was a pregnant woman at the show with a much better atittude than mine, because she was dancing in the front row. I was very impressed, though not up for the same thing.

I saw a man in a T-shirt that read, "Tell your boobs to stop staring at my eyes" and took notes on him on my secret pad for a future short story in which I need obvious signs that someone is a big ass.

Paranoid?

I am starting to think I may be a wee bit paranoid.

I often think strangers are giving me dirty looks, looks that suggest that they feel a certain way about me. Part of the time I might be right, of course. But sometimes, something happens that conclusively informs me I’ve been wrong. For example, the other day at the YMCA I was on one of my favorite machines, and immediately after I got on it I began to feel a man was giving me a dirty, impatient look, implying I should get off and let him have it, even though I had only just gotten on. I endured the discomfort for a few minutes, then got off and left in a huff, yielding to him and his dirty looks. But then, I peered back through the window into the exercise room and saw that the man had not gotten ON the vacated machine; in fact, he had gotten on some other machine. So now I think he was never giving me a dirty look in the first place.

Perhaps people are not giving me as many dirty looks as I think they are. I don’t know which is worse: the world being full of hostile people, or having to face that my judgment and intuition are not as good as I think they are.

I hope the baby takes after her father.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

The sky is bitching violently

That's what I thought the lyric was in “No One at the Bridge” by Rush, which we are listening to at Mark's behest. He just informed me the sky was actually pitching violently. Too bad: "bitching" would have been better. 'Course, I'm not too sure we can trust Mark since he also seems to think an AC/DC song I remember as being called "Gone Fishing" is actually called "Gone Shooting."

Another List

a) I am already becoming an obnoxiously partial parent. Whatever she is doing, no matter what it is, I find myself thinking, "Wow, that must be, like, the best way any baby has done it, ever. It must be unprecedented in the annals of fetus-dom." If she's moving a lot, I think, "Cool, she is feisty. I'll bet other people's babies aren't so feisty." Or, if she's sitting totally still, I think, "She is going to be a thinker, with a long attention span and deep reflections, like me. I'll bet other people's babies aren't so deep." I don't understand why the doctors who've given me sonograms haven't thrown their hands in the air, gasping with awe, and summoned every other doctor into the room, exclaiming, "You guys really need to see this!"

b) I took two gender prediction quizzes online and they both said I'd be having a girl. One was the Chinese Gender Chart, which simply declared "Girl," and the other was a series of questions based on different gender prediction myths. It had questions like, "Do you crave oranges? Are you having headaches? Do you pick up a mug by the handle or by its body? Do you refuse to eat the heel of a bread or prefer it?" (I could go on--the questions were really insane). Anyway, this utterly bizarre test gave me 83% odds I was having a girl. Why am I taking gender prediction test when I already know it's a girl? I do not know.

c) Das Unheimliche: This is a marzipan baby!! It totally blows my mind. I wonder if anyone actually eats him, on a cake or something... I do not think I could. He is a baby; yet he is almond paste. Try to understand.


Wednesday, March 08, 2006

All right, what is going on here?

I just took the Animal Quiz twice (very short, just 7 questions long) and I came out as two equally horrible animals. I am non-plussed. The first time, I was this:




You're a Scorpion!

You really enjoy weapons and like keeping as many of them at hand
as possible, just in case. Most of these weapons are sharp, and you have a small
collection of armor as well. You just can't be too careful these days. Maybe it's
that you've always been small and feel threatened and this has prompted your
elaborate collection to bloom. It's not too surprising that you've become a bit of
a loner, even a hermit, with those tendencies. Or that your favorite actor is The
Rock.



Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.



I couldn't bear it, so I took the quiz again and answered one question differently that I wasn't sure about, anyway, and I was THIS:




You're a Boa Constrictor!

You're that person who is always offering massages to people and you
spend a lot of time training yourself to get better at giving them. Sometimes,
however, you make people just a little nervous with how close you're getting to
their neck. But you can usually knead them right back into a false sense of
security, er, I mean into feeling comfortable. Your mouth seems to be capable of
opening wider than anyone else's. You've sometimes wondered what it would be like
to be made out of feathers.



Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.



I don't mean to be mean to any animals but these animal identities are just not okay with me. And my favorite actor is NOT "the Rock." Sheesh.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

De-Pantsed

Today at school--while on duty at the library Writing Center--my pants fell off. It was very traumatizing. I was wearing a pair of too-big pants, true: some hand-me-down jeans from my cousin's pregnancy. They don't fit me yet but they were comfortable and roomy and I thought all would be well because I was wearing a belt. Unfortunately, the belt *broke* in the middle of the day, while I was in the ladies' room. The pants would remain up only if I did NOT MOVE. I made my way back from the bathroom by tying my sweater around my waist and making some surreptitious hiking-up gestures as I walked; with every step, the pants slid a little farther down. From my chair at the Writing Center, I called Mark on my cell phone, at all three of his numbers: work, home, and cell. It was that kind of emergency. "Mark," I said in a fervent whisper, "I can't speak in a normal voice because I'm in the library. Please come as quickly as you can, and bring pants."

He mercifully called me back about fifteen minutes later and agreed to come to the library with my pants. I instructed him on how to find a pair that fits me, not an easy matter these days since most of my pants are either too small or too big. He brought them to me within the hour. That is a kind husband for you-- he saves you when you are unexpectedly de-pantsed in a university library.

38% Evil, Lawful Good Elf Fighter

I am 38% Evil:

http://www.blogthings.com/howevilareyouquiz/

***You Are 38% Evil***A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well.In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.
________________________________________________
I am a Lawful Good Elf Fighter:

What D&D Character Are You?: http://fantasyherald.com/quiz/dand/index.php

Lawful Good Elf Fighter:

Alignment:Lawful Good characters are the epitome of all that is just and good. They believe in order and governments that work for the benefit of all, and generally do not mind doing direct work to further their beliefs.

Race:Elves are the eldest of all races, although they are generally a bit smaller than humans. They are generally well-cultured, artistic, easy-going, and because of their long lives, unconcerned with day-to-day activities that other races frequently concern themselves with. Elves are, effectively, immortal, although they can be killed. After a thousand years or so, they simply pass on to the next plane of existance.

Primary Class:Fighters are the warriors. They use weapons to accomplish their goals. This isn't to say that they aren't intelligent, but that they do, in fact, believe that violence is frequently the answer.

I have no idea why I am a Fighter, since I checked "Flight" over "Fight" and said my weapon of choice was "running away."

I am a dangerously, insidiously evil, lawful good, pacifist fighter Elf.