and the universe continues to conspire

Let me tell you about my last three weeks, okay?

Three weeks ago, Tango started acting funny. We didn't know why, but he was hobbling around the house in pain. At night, he would get up and down and pace around the room or the bed. This meant that I was up for most of the night with him, trying to make sure that he wasn't throwing up or having diarrhea, or in excruciating pain of some sort. I eventually called the emergency veterinarian, who told me to wait and see if other symptoms developed. After a couple of days, he started to have diarrhea and continued with his strange behavior, so I brought him in. The doctor examined him and prescribed some antibiotics to see if it would take care of the stomach troubles, and we started him on a strictly bland diet. After a few days, he seemed better.

For about a week, we had a blissful period where no one was sick. Both dogs were cheery, we kept with the bland feeding program and all was well.

A week and a half ago, Murray broke out in hives. All over his abdomen. Of course, it happened on a Sunday, because it seems that dogs never get sick in the afternoon or morning, preferring the late night or wee hours of a weekend. I waited a few hours, and his hives began to spread into bigger rings, so I sent Josh to fetch some baby Benadryl while I did research on the internet for dosage instructions. I eventually found a dosage on a veterinary web site, and gave Murray a little bit that night. He was able to sleep without scratching and his hives seemed mildly improved, so I gave him a little more in the morning. And then he started throwing up.

Since we didn't know whether the throwing up was because of the hives or because of the Benadryl, Josh took him to the vet. There he received subcutaneous fluids, and a shot of Tagamet to stop the vomiting. Thankfully, after only a couple more episodes, the vomiting ceased that night.

We had new strict orders to watch him carefully for dehydration, feed him small amounts of water and after 24 hours without vomiting, small amounts of rice and chicken. I worked from home in order to watch him and make sure all was okay. Unfortunately, that day coincided with Josh's birthday. The poor guy had to spend it listening to me complain and fret over Murray's health, and then come home to no birthday celebration because I was afraid to leave Murray in order to go to the store. That night, Josh went to play in a softball game, and five minutes after he left, Murray had explosive diarrhea all over the house.

When I say explosive, I mean that I left to grab a glass of water in the kitchen and came back to diarrhea on the couch, on the living room rug, in the front hallway, in the office, and on the stairs. To the point that I sunk to the floor and sobbed at the injustice of it all. I gagged through cleaning it up, while leaving Josh tear-filled messages on his voicemail begging him to come home. I was up with him that night, and the next night, every time he padded over to the door begging to be let out.

Murray continued having diarrhea for 4 days, until it finally tapered off, and we again had 3 days of peace and harmony and health.

And then, last night he started vomiting again. He vomited a couple of time last night, a couple of times this morning, and now again this afternoon. My mom is home with him, and she has called to report on his behavior.

I'm at my wits end. I hesitate to take him to the vet again, because I'm certain that their response will be to charge me $200 and then tell me to continue with a strict diet. At the same time, though, I'm worried that he isn't getting better and that maybe he is dehydrated. He is acting mostly fine, with only a little bit of sadness or gloominess when he throws up. On the other hand, I feel like I'm losing my mind.

I don't know how people deal with sick dogs when they have to work. How will I deal with these sick dogs when I have a baby? I guess I just will. In the meantime, I'll wait to hear from the vet and hope that soon we'll be done with these ongoing sicknesses. Sigh.

i can't make this stuff up

The pooches and I have a routine in the mornings. I get up while they lounge in bed, I shower and get dressed, and then I spend 10 minutes coaxing them out from under the covers and off the bed. We go downstairs, I make myself a bowl of cereal or oatmeal, and we head out to the front yard while I sit on the stoop and eat my breakfast and they run around like banshees. Right before I leave, we come back inside, I fix them breakfast, do last minute things like brush my teeth, organize my lunch, and I leave for the day while they are munching away.

This morning, Tango stood patiently by the door as I poured myself the bowl of cereal, but when I turned the knob and slowly opened it, I heard this awfully loud screeching sound. It sounded as if it were coming from the door itself, or from something inside the front entryway. At almost the same moment, the phone rang, and I turned away to pick up the call. I started chattering away to Josh, and walked back to the door, and as I reached to open the screen, I again heard the loud screeching. I leaned close to the screen door to see what was outside of the door making the awful noises. As I came close to pressing my nose against the metal, I saw something out of the corner of my eye.





Yup, a bat had wedged itself into our screen door, and was protesting loudly that someone was disturbing his daytime rest.




First I screamed, then I hopped up and down, then I slammed the door shut until I figured out that, in fact, it wouldn't be able to get to me on the other side of the door. And then I got the camera.

It didn't like the camera flash, and proceeded to screech loudly every time the flash went off.


After 15 minutes of alternating banging and flashing, it eventually jumped out from the screen door and onto the front porch. While on the front porch, it started crawling around in circles, with no apparent goal to depart from our front step. At that point, I started to worry that perhaps this particular bat had rabies or was injured. Ironically, about 2 weeks ago I saw a special on Martha Stewart on the different species of bats, and how helpful they are in their bug-eating capabilities. That being said, while I'm grateful that this bat digests the many mosquitoes that are out these days, I'd prefer that he not hang out on my front stoop.

I called my town's Animal Control, and their suggestion was that I swoosh it off the steps with a broom. I assured him, though, that I didn't think my ob/gyn would want me outside playing around with a potentially rabid FLYING animal, so he agreed to come out and help it along.

So that's what I did this morning. How about you?

an actual baby

Pregnancy consumes my mind these days. I find myself looking down in awe at this growing belly that blocks my view of my feet. Josh noted the other day that my belly button has become somewhat larger as the area swells outward. In quiet moments I try to keep still, looking for that fluttering everyone tells me about. The other day, I felt a mild tap tap tap from within, and I held my breath at the thought that perhaps those were the tiny tap tap taps of tiny feet. Only time will tell, I guess.

At the same time, though, I try not to talk about the pregnancy as much as I'd like. At home, I talk poor Josh's ear off, with ideas and plans and schedules. My mother also gets the brunt of my chattering, but other than that, I try not to be the all-consumed, self-centered preggo that I actually feel.

Despite all of the pregnancy thoughts, it is only recently that thoughts about an actual baby have entered my mind. Listening to the heartbeat at appointments seemed so surreal, as if something strange was making that lovely chug-a-chug-a-chug, not an actual beating heart. So it was with a good deal of shock that I saw a real live baby on the screen today during an impromptu ultrasound.

I've decided to switch doctors, despite loving my current ob-gyn because I'd gotten some pressure from friends regarding the hospital at which she delivers. With the wealth of options in Boston, many of my friends and family felt that we should be delivering at one of the top rated hospitals, rather than the community hospital associated with my doctor. It was a difficult decision to make, because my doctor is truly a lovely person. Very friendly and kind, laid back and calming, but the possibility of delivering a baby in need of a neonatal intensive care unit was weighing on my mind, despite the low probability of that happening. I wanted to know that the best NICU in New England was a corridor away, rather than a 15 minute drive. Paranoid, I know, but that is first time motherhood for you.

So today, at my introduction appointment with the doctor, I was stunned when she suggested we "take a quick peek" at the baby. Poor Josh had opted to miss his first appointment of this pregnancy, since this was an introductory appointment that was supposed to take 15 minutes, and it was in the middle of the day. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the most exciting one thus far.

I felt that same momentary panic as she got the ultrasound machine set up. That fear that this time something will go wrong, but as she pressed the wand against my abdomen, a fuzzy image of a beautiful, sweet baby filled the screen. A baby that played with one hand against its chin while holding the other hand against its cheek. A baby that flexed and pointed its teeny tiny feet, and turned its head from side to side. A baby's whose beautiful heart showed 4 beautiful chambers that were beating at 140 beats per minutes. It even wriggled a few times on screen, showing off a healthy spine and rounded belly. Two eyes, a little nose, a mouth that opened and closed.

Folks, there was a BABY inside there.

Not some random growth that is forcing me out of regular clothes faster than I can buy maternity clothes to replace them. Not a parasite making me vomit for weeks on end. An actual baby that might actually be born, that might actually come to live in our house. It blew me away.

The doctor said we were taking a quick peek, but in fact, we spent several minutes while she pointed out the different body parts and did a heartbeat measurement. It was amazing, and for much of today I've been walking around in a daze, tears prickling my eyes when I remember the little face turning from side to side.

A baby. Who knew?

fourth of july fun, cookies and blogger meetups

The week before last was a rough week around these parts, and I was counting the minutes until we headed out of town on the Friday night before the Fourth of July to visit my inlaws in the Berkshires. Work conspired against me, and we didn't hit the road until after 10pm. Not ideal for a 2 hour drive, but I was terribly anxious for a change of scenery. I couldn't help but feel flooded with guilt all of last week, whether that makes sense or not, whether it is healthy or not.

Getting away to my inlaws' home, in the middle of nowhere, with mountain views from every window, and deserted roads for walking, and nothing to do but play with the pups and eat, was exactly what I needed. My inlaws were stellar to us, too. We went swimming at a local pond per my request, went to see Superman Returns at the drive-ins with a picnic dinner and big cushions to sit on while watching the movie. My mother in law baked chocolate chip cookies for me at 9pm at night, just because I said I was craving them. It was enough to make me want to never come home.

I have to admit, though, that the highlight of our trip was a visit out to visit Chris of Notes from the Trenches. Josh kept asking me what having 7 kids must be like as we drove over to her house, and as we were leaving, he told me that he never thought someone could make it look as easy as Chris did. Her children were beautiful, sweet, and incredibly well-behaved, to the point that we were wondering what she feeds them. There wasn't a single fight amongst them, and each of her adorable children was polite and friendly and chatty. After we'd left, we also marveled at how Chris and Rob can look so unbelievably young too! Josh kept asking me if I was sure that Chris wasn't in her 20's. It was fabulous to put a face to her hysterical posts, and meeting her felt like seeing an old friend. I can't wait to do it again!

After all that fun and inlaw pampering, it was hard to return to regular life in Boston. For some reason, everything is overwhelming these days, and I guess I just have to chalk it up to hormones. It doesn't help that both Tango and Murray have been putting us through the ringer with different stomach problems. Last week we were up all night with Tango throwing up, and starting this Saturday, we've been up and down with Murray and his stomach problems. I had to work from home today because Murray couldn't stop throwing up until the wee hours of the morning and we were terrified that he'd get dehydrated. I'm praying he is feeling better by tomorrow morning because I don't think I can manage another day away from the office.

Besides that, life is great. I've been feeling pretty good except for random headaches that I'm starting to think might be attributed to sugar. My belly is also starting to look actually pregnant instead of just chunky, and seeing myself in mirrors is a bit of a shock. I can't believe my body is actually doing this!

Anyway, sorry for the bloggy break, I'm going to have to kick myself back into gear and resume my regular blogging.

don't cry for me...

Annnnddd, Argentina is out of the World Cup.

I would cry, but frankly this week has been so bad that I have no tears left, plus, these days I really have perspective.

Tango has been in and out of the vet all week, keeping me up until all hours of the night throwing up and having all other manners of unpleasant stomach problems, and generally trying to kill me.

Plus, my previous post.

And to top it all off, sweet wonderful Jill is having her sixth miscarriage. If you have some love to give, please swing over to her place.

I hope you all have restful and happy weekends. Happy Independence Day.

wishing things were different

This weekend one of my dearest friends had a miscarriage at 9 weeks. We work together, play together, spend countless hours together, and had often joked that our babies would turn their heads to each others voices, more so than our own husbands.

It is impossible for me to put into words how excited we were to have babies so close in age, to be on maternity leave together, to take day trips and support each other. And my heart breaks that this has happened, especially at a time when she was trusting more and getting more excited at the prospect of having a baby.

If you have positive thoughts and prayers to share, please do. There is so little I can do to help her, except be sad along with her, and wish from the bottom of my heart that things were different.

i feel a little sick

I just spent the last 15 minutes licking each individual chip in the Doritos Cool Ranch package to get all of the powder off. I didn't eat the chips, just licked off the outside, before depositing the chip neatly back into the bag.

I think I need help.

13 weeks, and the reaction

13 weeks this past weekend! Yay! I celebrated by feeling terrible again and relaxing on the couch all day. I've come to realize that in my newly pregnant state, I'm unable to tolerate the heat. Or at least, that is my interpretation of why every time it gets above 75 degrees here in Boston, I seem to shut down. On Saturday I walked to our town center, about a 3/4 of a mile walk, in about 85 degree heat, and ended up totally sick again that evening. It was hot, but I walked slowly, and with water, and it wasn't THAT far! Regardless, I was out for the count the rest of the night and all of Sunday. I feel like such a weakling every time it happens, even though Josh is fabulously understanding. He never complains about taking over the brunt of the housework, and reassures me constantly that he understands, all while fetching juice and water and snacks.

Last night at 10:30pm, he even drove to the grocery store to purchase green olives stuffed with jalapenos (I know, yuck) and plums, because after seeing people on the television having martinis with olives in them, I became desperate for them. The olives, not the martinis. And plums, well, just because. I have no explanation for the strange combinations.

I also told my work last week, and wisely told the head of our department, who is a woman with three children. They were very excited! In fact, the head of the department jumped up and down! And then another senior partner told me to name the baby after him, whether it was a girl or a boy. I told a couple of the other partners, and a few associates, but left the news to travel on its own to most people. So far, everyone has been very enthusiastic and excited. The partners have offered part-time (3 days a week) or flex-time (4 days or some other combination of home and in-office work) or any other combination I'd like, as alternatives after the baby is born. I'm definitely coming back to work for a number of reasons, but I will likely have to wait and see how I feel after the baby is born before deciding the number of days I'll work. I can also take extended maternity leave, although my regular maternity leave is 5 and a half months, and my mom thinks that might be enough time for me. We'll have to wait and see.

I was extremely nervous going in to tell them, but was very pleasantly surprised. It was a great experience, and everyone has been happy and excited for us. The head of the group even gave me lots of breastfeeding and pumping advice, since she pumped for all of her kids even after she came back to work and breastfed for over a year. I feel very supported, which is great.

And just in time, because I am starting to show these days! Only two people told me that they'd wondered about my new growing belly, which surprised me, because I am finding it rather obvious. Today is the first day that my stomach appears to be bigger than my boobs! I figure that is the big giveaway to most people.

So all in all, it has been a good week. I have ups and downs with the nausea, but I feel good most of the time. The best part of all this is that I am starting to get very excited over the whole thing! We have done absolutely nothing with regard to the pregnancy, and we are probably going to start some minor preparations soon, especially while I feel good. The guest room that will be the nursery is in shambles, so we'll have to start emptying and rearranging that stuff around the house. The closet is still full of Josh's clothes, so we'll have to empty that too, and then I might start looking at paint samples.

I can't remember if I've mentioned that we aren't finding out what this baby is, so I can go ahead and look at colors and bedding if I feel like it. Josh thinks we should get two sets of bedding, one girl and one boy, and then return whichever one we won't use. I have to decide if I want to do that, or pick something unisex. I have lots of time, though!

community supported agriculture, and mysterious vegetables

Last summer, I heard about something called community supported agriculture, or CSA, where you sign up to purchase a share in a nearby farm. The cost of your share covers the farm's expenses throughout the winter and spring, in anticipation of a good bounty that summer and fall. You have to pledge in advance to support the farm with your subscription, and when late spring hits, you begin to receive a basket of fruits and vegetables per week. In my case, my farm delivers from June 9th (15th this year because of all the rain) until November 27th. During this time, we are also free to go to the farm for pick-your-own events, like strawberry or snap pea picking.

The benefits are clear- you support small community farmers, you get fresh in-season food, often picked that day, and you get it delivered to your home (in our case, a pickup spot in our neighborhood). Of course, if the farm has a terrible season, such as (ahem) raining for weeks on end, you might lose out on a week, or the produce might be limited to what has survived the deluge. You also get no choice in what is delivered to you, so it requires a spirit of adventure.

In our case, for the last year and up until this morning sickness hit, I'd been eating as a vegetarian so we figured that I'd consume most of what was delivered. The produce is enough for 1-2 vegetarian adults or a family of 4 non-vegetarians. Now that the morning sickness is fading (I hope!), I've started consuming fruits and vegetables again. Yesterday and today, I was able to eat a spinach salad without feeling sick afterwards. Hurray!

Today was the first pick-up date for our CSA share. Josh picked up a fairly large box of spinach, romaine lettuce, boston bib lettuce (or outside of boston bib lettuce, as Josh is calling it), arugula, radishes, and then something that I've never seen before. This is where the spirit of adventure (and blog friends that might know what this is) comes in handy. So my bloggy buddies, what is this stuff?

My flier said braising mix, so does that mean that I cook it? And eat it with what? I've been pretty excited for our share to start this summer, because it seems so fun and exciting to come up with meals based on whatever we receive. We have projected list of what should arrive in the weeks to come, like cabbage and bok choy (which I don't know how to make), strawberries, etc., but nothing definite.

12 weeks! and my new love affair

TWELVE WEEKS! I thought there would be some fanfare when I made it this far, but the cake and balloons must have been delayed because nothing showed up at my house! I've already warned Josh that if I make it to my due date, I expect a cake. Everyone deserves a cake on their due date. With chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

I was rewarded, however, by the return of my energy. For a few brief shining hours on Sunday, I felt like a normal person again! I took advantage of this by checking out some yard sales, looking at the local YMCAs to see which one I will join, going strawberry picking, planting my tomato plants, planting some annuals, and weeding my whole backyard since I've been ignoring it since before I got pregnant. It was such a relief to not be paralyzed by nausea and exhaustion for the first time in 8 weeks! Sunday night brought a return to the nausea, but I am pleased to report that I have enjoyed several hours of nausea-free living over the last two days. I'm so pleased, I could cry.

Unfortunately, my zeal for gardening and weeding brought a flare up in my sciatica, and although I'm not nauseous, I am walking around the office with a limp. My thighs and butt are killing me, but I attribute that more to my excessive movements after so many weeks of lying around.

Along with the relief from nausea and vomiting, I have discovered a new love in my life.

Food. Delicious, fantastic, flavorful food.

If I see someone eating something at lunch, I have to have it within the following few hours. If I see a commercial for food, I dream about the food until I can convince Josh to take me the restaurant. If people on television are eating something, Josh will have to restrain me from cooking at 11pm. He seems to think that egg salad sandwiches are inappropriate to make after midnight. The other night, someone at work had a rotisserie chicken for dinner, and I begged Josh to pick one up for me to have when I arrived home from work at 10:30pm. I actually CRIED big, fat, hot tears when none of the nearby grocery stores had any more rotisserie chickens in stock. Then I accused him of being selfish because he wouldn't drive the half hour to a far away large grocery store. This weekend we stocked up with 3 rotisserie chickens, because this won't happen to me again!

When I do eat whatever I have been craving, it is definitively the best whatever it is I have ever had. This weekend I had the best two salads of my life. Today I had the best lemonade of my life. Yesterday I had the best cookies of my life. I'm starting to get concerned. I have to literally convince myself sometimes that I will most certainly be able to eat whatever it is tomorrow. It doesn't have to be right that second.

What a change, though! The thought of most foods used to turn my stomach, and while many things still make me feel a bit queasy, I am seeing such an improvement in my stomach's abilities. You told the truth! You said I'd start to feel better! I'm so happy!

I'm still waiting for the sex drive you all have promised, although I have been having rather *ahem* vivid dreams. Josh is waiting with bated breath, too. ; )

it is overtaking me!

I look at these pictures and wonder how my colleagues haven't figured it out yet. Do they just think I've been gaining lots of weight?

This is where we started. The little pokey thing is the buckle on my pants. The pants that haven't fit me for 3 weeks.

At 11 weeks exactly, this is where we are now:

Clearly, I'm going to get bigger. But isn't this a little ridiculous for something the size of a lime? Also, 3 pounds gained! So where is the rest coming from?

It has been 4 days since that picture, and I swear, it is even bigger. I'm going to have to break down and tell work tomorrow or Monday. Wish me luck!

11 weeks!

Did I mention that I'm tired? Yesterday, I fell asleep while waiting for Josh to finish dinner. Then I fell asleep after dinner on the couch. After sleeping 11 hours the night before, and last night I tumbled into bed and could barely drag myself out after 8 hours of sleep. This whole baby incubating thing is kicking my ass! Who knew it was so hard to grow a person?

Thankfully, Josh has been my saving grace and has taken over all of the household tasks with no complaint. In fact, he is far better now that I'm practically incapacitated than he was before! Maybe I should stick to laying on the couch and moaning. It seems to get results. This weekend he did 4 loads of laundry, cleaned the house, made lunch and dinner, cleaned up after the dogs, and ironed all of the shirts I haven't worn since my mom visited in December -because that is how long it has been since anyone touched the iron.

The nausea is about the same. I have good days and bad days, and it is difficult for me to tell which one it will be until I'm up and moving. My first indication is whether I start gagging in the shower or while brushing my teeth; those are clearly bad days. Saturday, I felt like a normal person that didn't need to ingest chicken at regularly spaced 2 hour intervals! It was fantastic! Sunday came and I apparently was hit with the nausea stick during the night because I could barely move without gagging. But I am NOT complaining, I am merely posting the details for your enjoyment. I also post them in my belly book of memories, because I would like this child to know that when the male associate came into my office this morning, I gagged on the smell of his cologne. If this isn't love, I don't know what is.

I am also currently enjoying the fact that my belly is straining against the buttons on my shirt. This morning, I was pleased with the fact that I still fit into one pair of pre-pregnancy pants and button-down shirt. By nightfall and 3 meals later, however, I look like I am wearing clothing one size too small. Thank goodness people are too busy working to notice my humpty dumpty shape!

I tried for an hour to upload a belly picture for you, but it wouldn't come through. I'll make another attempt tonight, so that you can enjoy the ridiculosity that is my 11 week belly. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to look like this for another month or so, but my stomach hasn't been listening.

So life is good! Gestating is still going well, and I am taking your assurances to heart that at 13 weeks I'll feel fantastic. Don't try to tell me otherwise. I only have 12 days to go.

just call me grumps

I've noticed that for the past few weeks I've been rather, ummm, how shall I put it, moody?

It isn't anything outright obvious, but sometimes people do or say things that infuriate me. And when I look back on them, I realize that perhaps these are the hormones people are talking about.

For example, the other day, I was preparing for a visit by Tango to one of our neighborhood nursing homes. We do this once a month or so, with a group that certifies dogs to visit hospitals, nursing homes and rehabilitation centers. A couple of times, the visits have been cancelled due to a viral outbreak at the facilities, and I figured that it might be a good idea for me to alert the scheduler of the program that I was pregnant. That way, if she heard news about a facility, she could let me know in advance whether I should attend or not. I emailed her, and thought I conveyed in the email that it was early (about 8 or 9 weeks) and that we weren't telling people, but I wanted her to know for the above reasons. Apparently I wasn't clear, because when I went to the visit, one of the other dog handlers came up to me to let me know that she knew, and that she would "keep her fingers crossed for me, because it was sooooooo early, and she neeevvveeerrr would have told people so soon, but she'd keep her hopes up for me." All with this very sympathetic and condescending look on her face. I was stunned, to say the least, and didn't say much, except to assure her that all was proceeding well and that we'd already had an ultrasound and were very hopeful. But I spent the rest of the visit and the rest of the day stewing. I was INFURIATED that she would put a damper on my happy news! I wasn't sharing with the world at that point, but if I was, who was she to tell me when I should and shouldn't tell people?

Last night, it happened again. I finally climbed into bed around 11pm, when my nausea is at its absolute worst, and told Josh for the 30th night in a row, I'm sure, that I was so tired of feeling sick. When will I stop wanting to throw up all the time? And in his characteristically lighthearted manner, he told me that maybe sex would cure the nausea. I could "sex it off" and he was sure I'd feel better. Well, for future reference, this wasn't a good response. I was so angry that I literally couldn't speak, and shut off my light with a bang, while he chuckled at his own wit. I found myself wanting to scream at him, and it took all my will power to convince myself to wait until the light of day before telling him that I was mad. I did mutter a few "I'm sick of the jokes," but I fell asleep without making it into a big deal.

Since I don't normally get hopping mad at people without extreme provocation, I'm assuming this is all resulting from the hormones. Well, the hormones and feeling sick all the time. It takes its toll. I walk around in a good mood for most of the day, but then someone does something, and it sets me off.

Tell me this won't last for the whole pregnancy... will it? It isn't as if I react to the anger, but it is disconcerting, to say the least. I'm not going crazy, right? This is normal? RIGHT?

chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug-a

We heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time today. It sounded like a little train going at top speed- so different from my own whoosh whoosh whoosh of a heartbeat.

Tears pricked my eyes the minute she centered in on that elusive little train with the doppler. It flitted away from the doppler a couple of times and it took her several tries to get it to stay long enough for her to listen in and count. I'd brought a tape recorder, but Josh stood there in stunned silence while I motioned for him to grab it and start recording. I think he is slightly blown away by the whole thing.

According to the doctor, now that we've seen the ultrasound and heard the heartbeat, our miscarriage rate is less than 1%. She said that as far as she is concerned, we can tell the world now. And I guess this means we're having a baby! Although I'm not sure I can wholeheartedly believe that idea, with all the added information I've acquired from the Internet. But I may start to TRY to believe it anyway.

It also looks like my vomiting hasn't stopped me from gaining weight, and I put on a good 3 pounds since my last visit. Far better than the 4 pounds I'd lost before that. Now that I've discovered that chicken all the time keeps me from getting sick, I guess I'll be able to put on weight. I can't believe that 3 pounds can make all my pants and shirts not fit me, though. Getting dressed in the morning is a serious endeavor. Finding something that fits and doesn't highlight my growing abdomen is getting ridiculous, and I'm relieved to hear that I should be able to tell my work in the next couple of weeks. There are only so many sweater sets that I can wear!

I already broke down and bought maternity pants because not being able to breathe in the afternoons from my waistband cutting into me wasn't a pleasant experience. I love my new stretchy pants and I'm wondering why we don't have more clothes with this splendid elastic waistband! I would think that on bloated days these would be great!

And now I'm back to feeling that I've been blessed far more than I deserve. I keep waiting for something to go wrong, and these past few weeks have been an exercise in willing the days away. It is so hard not to want the first trimester to be done with as soon as possible, so I can go ahead with the business of believing that a baby might result from all this. I want to stop that, though, and maybe today's good news will help.

I'll never be pregnant again with my first baby in my first trimester. This is it. Any subsequent pregnancy will be different. I won't have the same fears and anticipation and desperate longing to know what will happen. I doubt we'll ever again have the dedication to take a picture of my belly every single week. I'll never keep as detailed of a journal, although I might try.

This is my one chance to experience this one time in my life, this one "trial by fire" pregnancy as Angie put it, and I'm going to stop worrying and start enjoying instead. Stinkin' happy is the way to be. Just remind me sometimes, okay?

a million thank yous!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Your messages were so sweet! They made me cry. But everything makes me cry these days. I cried on Sunday because the restaurant got my eggs wrong. Then I cried when the manager apologized. I also cried at work last week- in front of a senior associate. I can't wait until I am actually public at work, so that people will know that I'm not a freak, it's just the hormones. I also cry watching tv, in the car, walking on the street, and any time anyone does anything nice or not nice for me. It is slightly alarming, but I'm starting to get used to it.

Kathy R hit it on the nose with the due date.

Our Jewish baby is due on December 25th. I've been throwing around names like Baby Jesus, or Maria, or Holly, or Noel, but so far my Jewish in-laws haven't jumped on those options. I'm not sure why...

Between the bouts of nausea and vomiting under my desk at work, I walk around practically giddy with the news. We are so very happy and excited, it has been impossible to keep a secret. Josh has no patience and we regularly argue over who he can and cannot tell, with me holding onto the losing end of the battle.

The first few days after we'd found out, I could hardly believe it was true. I ran to the bathroom every 20 minutes, convinced that I was getting my period. But not long after, I was hit like a truck with the many symptoms. Nausea, migraines, acne, boobs like a stripper, bloating, constipation, hemorrhoids, sciatica, and vomiting. At this point, I am eating constantly to keep the nausea at bay, and the only thing I can keep down is chicken. That kind of throws off the whole vegetarian lifestyle I've been living since July, but substitutions won't cut it. Tofu, soy protein shakes, carbohydrates and vegetables are unacceptable. Meat is good. At this point, I'll do anything to keep myself from getting sick at work, so meat it is.

I have to admit, I think all of you held out on me. When I said I was thinking baby, I got nothing but positive reports. Where were the descriptions of the constipation? What about lying on the floor of your office crying and willing the nausea away? I thought you were my friends.

Regardless, I'm ecstatic beyond words. I'll take every symptom and be grateful for it. I'm just so stinking happy.

harder to write than I thought it would be

How many tests would it take for you to believe it?












For me, it took all those tests, plus a few more, boobs that were killing me, and a whole lot of nausea.

In the end, it wasn't until I saw this:





That I actually believed it.






170 beautiful beats per minute.

It is still early, I'm only 9 weeks along, but I couldn't keep something this big a secret any longer. I wish I knew the words to tell you how happy I am, how blessed I feel, and how badly I hope this little blob sticks.

Thank you for being so patient with my negligent blogging. I've learned that it is impossible to blog when you can't blog about the one thing that consumes you.

penance

I'm not sure what my penance will be for all this bloggy neglect, but I'll have to think of some way to make up for it. I know I've been mind-numbingly boring lately, and I'm working on it. This weekend I hope to get some good time set aside to write you a real update, with actual details and fun information. So don't give up on me yet!!!

Between my working hours and Josh's finals for the past two weeks, my house has been slowly disintegrating into a toxic zone. It was long overdue for a cleaning before we got slammed with work and school, and these days, it is downright pitiful. There are dust bunnies on the stairs that threaten to overtake me when I go upstairs. Leaves and twigs tracked inside by the dogs are growing in the corners of the downstairs rooms. If I sit on the couches before I leave for work, I find myself covered in dog hair that has also been accumulating with no one to vacuum the cushions. Laundry has become a triage situation, with underwear and socks thrown in at 10pm on Sunday nights when we realize we'll have nothing to wear that week.

The only thing I have the time or patience for is sheet changing and grocery shopping, and even that is not looking good as of late. Our neighbor asked to come over and use our mixer for a minute, and I couldn't think of an excuse fast enough, but I couldn't fathom anyone actually seeing this disaster that we sleep in. I say sleep, because we aren't actually living there. I'm spending far more of the day at work than at home, I've calculated it.

I can't believe more bloggers haven't mentioned the weather in New England these days, too. It is gloomy and dreary and freezing, and I walk around mumbling about April showers, my ass.

Anyway, all of this is a long way of asking for forgiveness, and this weekend I will put my blogging hat on and be better. I promise! I hope everyone is enjoying better springy weather than we are around here!

one of the many reasons why I keep him around

Josh sometimes has to leave before I get up in the morning, and once in a while, he'll leave me a small early breakfast on my nightstand. Sometimes a bowl of dry cereal, sometimes toast with butter on it, sometimes just a coffee. It is a nice little surprise to wake up to a pre-shower meal!

This morning, he got up at 6am and was out the door shortly thereafter. I woke up to find toast with honey on it, resting by the clock radio. I found it before the alarm went off, because I had dogs climbing on my face to get a sniff at the plate sitting so close to the bed. Food in bed is a novelty to them, since we rarely eat upstairs.

I continued lounging in bed while I savored my toast, and the dogs sat two inches to my side, Murray staring intently at the toast as it went from plate to mouth, plate to mouth, Tango glaring at me with one paw up in the air, as he shook in silent protest.

I finished everything but a sliver of crust, and in an act of mercy, broke off two tiny pieces and shared them with each of the pups. I got up to take a shower, but knowing better than to trust them alone with the plate and crust while I was in the shower, I put them on the floor while I got ready for work.

The dogs were waiting in the hallway while I took a shower and brushed teeth and hair, and when I went into the bedroom to get dressed, they both stood at the edge of the bed and looked at me to lift them up. As I lifted Murray onto the covers, he jetted over to my side of the bed, grabbed hold of the crust, and took off to the other end of the bed while I stood there in stunned silence. It was faster than I'd ever seen him move! And Tango was standing there looking as if he was thoroughly impressed with his brother's work.

My yells got him to drop the toast, and as "punishment," he was put onto the floor to wait during the rest of the morning. He lay on his bed, resting his head on his paws and looking up at me with pitiful eyes. I'd long since moved the plate, and I finally gave in and put him back up on the bed with his brother to enjoy their last morning stretches on the down comforter before I left them for the day.

Would you believe that he made the SAME beeline for the nightstand again? Same speed, same spot! I guess some pups never learn. Or perhaps he did, and that one savor of sweet honey on toast outweighed my wrath.

another meme

What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was getting ready to graduate from high school in a month. At my all-girls Catholic high school, all classes ended the month before graduation and we were allowed to wear "regular" clothes for the first time during school hours (instead of uniforms). It was a fabulous month, full of parties and events.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
I was working at a job that I disliked, waiting to hear back from the several law firms at which I'd interviewed, and then making a decision. I'm so much happier now!

Five snacks you enjoy...
Guacamole
Yogurt
Sliced cucumbers with lemon
Golden Oreos (yum)
Cheezits!

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics...
(I don't even know what to say for this. I know about a million song lyrics)
My Hips Don't Lie- Shakira
Wonderland- John Mayer
I'm in love with a stripper (I'm so upset that I know the words to this song)
Bad Day- Daniel Powter
You'll Think of Me- Keith Urban

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire...
Travel around the world with Josh
Buy my parents a new house close to me
Donate money to many charities
Pay off my school loans and get a PhD in History
Save the rest, I guess (I'm so boring!)

Five bad habits...
PROCRASTINATION (my worst habit)
Worrywart
Lack of patience
Messiness
Lack of organization

Five things you like doing...
Reading reading and reading
Shopping!
Sitting and talking with Josh
Reading blogs
Going out with friends

Five things you would never wear again...
Shoulder pads (stole this one from Pink Cupcake, but she is soooo right)
Biker (spandex) shorts (ick)
Tapered pants (I've seen the light, and I'm never going back)
Legwarmers (although they were mighty cool in the '80s)
Socks that match my hair scrunchie

Favorite toys...
My laptop (named lapdancer)
Television (named Wanda)
Camera (named Camille)
Do the dogs count? I play with them a lot.
Kitchenaid mixer (I love that thing)

Work has been kicking. my. ass. I think that I should be back up and running in a week or so- I hope! I'm still checking in with all of you when I get a chance, I'm just have some brain numbing from the quantity of work!

Hope you all are well!

healthy

This morning I woke up early and headed into work early, in the hopes that perhaps all this earliness will also coincide with leaving early tonight. I'll let you know how it goes.

I was rather bleary-eyed as I boarded the elevator this morning, and just when the doors were almost closed, a hand shot through and caused them to open again. A guy bounded in, gleaming smiles at me and the two other people on the elevator. He was carrying a binder in his arms and a bag over his shoulder, and I grumpily looked at him, wondering how he was looking so cheery at 7:45am.

He turned around to face the doors as we climbed to his floor and I looked down at his binder, and there, nestled on top of his papers, was his breakfast.

A Red Bull.

And a package of sugar coated donuts.




Now I know.

while we're at it

Since I'm confessing things that make me want to throw things at my husband, I might as well tell you about another one of my pet peeves.

Every night, when I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth, Josh INSISTS on coming in at the same time. This results in us fighting over the one sink and one faucet. This wouldn't be as big of a problem, if I didn't want lukewarm or warm water, and he wants freezing cold water.

You have to picture this- I start brushing with lukewarm water. He walks in, switches to cold, turns off the water. I have to turn warm water back on, and before I'm done rinsing my toothbrush, he switches to cold. Then I switch back to warm to rinse my mouth. He turns back to cold, but I still have to wash my face. At this point, I always get pissed. I try to turn it back to warm, and he won't let me, so I have to stand there and either start washing my face with cold, WHICH I HATE, or wait until he is done before I can switch it back. This drives me BONKERS. I just want him to wait the 30 seconds until I am done with the sink and then he can have it! But he refuses to listen, even when I've begged him to just give me my one minute of bathroom peace. Then he insists on peeing before I can pee, and I have to wait for the toilet too.

Is this because I am an only child? Am I so used to having my own sink and toilet that I can't learn to share? Tell me I'm not crazy. Or if I am, at least tell me nicely.

If you read a newspaper headline about a man beaten by his wife with her toothbrush, you'll know who it was.

food thief

I have so much to tell you, but I'm too tired to do it right now. I will try to post tonight, if I can stay awake that long.

Quick question, do any of your significant others insist on tasting whatever you are eating? Even though they've tasted it 5 other times and disliked it all 5 other times? And you know they are just wasting your food or drink, and it makes you want to fling your juice at their heads?

No? Just me?

spring!

Last summer, I ordered a bag of blue, purple and white bulbs that were delivered in the fall. Of course, we had plenty of perfectly pleasant fall weekends for me to plant them, but I waited until the very last available weekend. I ended up planting 40 bulbs in the growing dark, with frozen fingers, knowing that the first frost would come that night.

When I got back from vacation in March, I found that several of the bulbs had sprouted. Thankfully, only the crocuses fully bloomed, and were able to survive the freezing temperatures since then.

This week, the tulips have bloomed and the hyacinths are poking out of the ground, ready to bloom at any time. I planted most of them in that plain patch between the sidewalk and the street, and today I saw a couple outside bending over and admiring them. There are flowers up and down the street, but perhaps these were a surprise in such an unlikely place. The ditch where normally you see a tangle of weeds and and tree roots, instead full of new life.

The frozen fingers were totally worth it.

To those of you who celebrate Passover, I hope you have a joyful and peaceful Pesach.

how about a pretty picture to distract you?

This week is KILLING ME, so I shall push off posting for another little bit with this meme that I said I would do a month ago. Work is nutso, and I've been feeling a bit under the weather, and this week is also Passover so my inlaws are coming to visit, and my house looks like I dumped all the closets out into my living room. Help me?

Seven Things To Do Before I Die (umm, this is really hard!):
1. Have a child (by any means)
2. Travel to Egypt
3. Live abroad for a lengthy period of time
4. Become a professor
5. Write a book
6. Love myself and stop criticizing
7. Be happy

Seven Things I Cannot Do:
1. Hurt someone intentionally
2. Be confrontational
3. Hit someone
4. Stop procrastinating
5. Sleep without a blanket
6. Skydive, or do anything that has to do with heights
7. Be away from Josh for a great length of time

Seven Things That Attract Me to Blogging:
1. Clearly, the fame.
2. Sneaking a peek into someone else's life
3. A creative outlet to my often uncreative worklife
4. The friends!
5. The wonderful writers I read daily
6. The advice and comments
7. Umm, the fame again?

Seven Things I Say Most Often:
1. Motherhumper! (I say this one a lot)
2. Sweetie, can you...?
3. Tango, NO!
4. Look at what Murray (or Tango) is doing!
5. I love you!
6. Tout de la fruit (when I say goodbye)
7. Ojo! (I say this with a smirk and pulling down the edge of one of my eyes- it means "watch it!" in Spanish)

Seven Books I Love:
1. A Gift From the Sea
2. The DaVinci Code
3. Harry Potter(all of them)
4. Pride and Prejudice
5. Dereliction of Duty (made me love history)
6. The Secret Garden
7. To Kill a Mockingbird

Seven Movies/DVDs That I Can Watch Over and Over Again:
1. Dirty Dancing
2. Notting Hill
3. Sex and the City Seasons
4. Friends Seasons
5. Lord of the Rings
6. Scream
7. The Exorcist

And now seven other people need to do it, but I have no idea who has and hasn't done it. Someone? Anyone?

honestly, what are the odds?

We had a work event last night- an associate appreciation night at a nearby restaurant, complete with appetizers, unlimited free drinks, and a very funny comedian. I was fairly surprised that the firm would hire a comedian to do a show, considering that there were only about 50 guests in our private room at the restaurant. It made for a very personal show, with the comedian making fun of my work colleagues and picking people out of the crowd to poke fun.

This was a totally different atmosphere for a comedian than I'd ever seen. I knew everyone around me, making it all the more funny when he made a joke about them. It was quite easy to crack jokes when everyone's profession was things like "tax attorney" or "patent attorney" or "private equity attorney." I thought I might pee my pants when he asked one partner what he did, and when he moved onto the next partner he said "I do his leftovers." I knew what he meant, but the comedian's reaction was to point out how dirty our law firm apparently was.

I've been trying to cut out what little alcohol I do consume, for obvious reasons, but at the same time, I'd prefer not to raise any questions at firm functions. With the free flowing drinks, everyone had loosened up and the tables were peppered with martinis and mixed drinks. For that reason, I had Josh go to the bar for me, and order a Coke with grenadine- otherwise known as a Roy Rogers. Basically, a Shirley Temple, but with Coke. I figured that the Coke would disguise the absence of alcohol and no one would be the wiser.

Meanwhile, the comedian was circling the room, cracking jokes, asking where people went to school, etc. At one point he came around to us, asked Josh whether he was a lawyer and then congratulated him on marrying one instead. He asked my name while I was laughing, and then moved on. A few minutes later, though, he came back around to me, and did you guess yet? Asked what I was drinking.

I could. not. believe. it. What are the odds? Before I could answer, Josh piped in with "Roy Rogers!!!" and the room exploded with laughter. At this point, I started laughing too hard to answer when he asked me sarcastically what was IN a Roy Rogers. With tears streaming, I covered my face with my hands while the laughter increased. Finally, I managed to squeak out that it was a Coke with grenadine, and frankly, I've never heard my colleagues laugh as hard or as long before.

For the rest of last night and most of this morning, my emails have been peppered with references to "good old Roy" and those I work with have told me that I'll never live it down. People don't make fun of you unless they like you, right? Sigh.

finding enough

The night before last, Josh's aunt invited me to a women's Passover dinner. For the last 15 years, they've been meeting in the week or two before Passover actually begins to have a seder dinner together, laugh and share their thoughts on the roles of women in Judaism. I was excited to have been invited, and I had a wonderful time at the seder. It closely resembled a traditional dinner, but with a greater emphasis on women in history, and how the lessons of Passover tie into the world today. For example, instead of just listing the traditional plagues in Egypt, like floods, locusts, etc., the plagues were related as events today such as limited abortion rights, domestic violence, an emphasis on unattainable ideals in the media leading women to have plastic surgery or suffer from bulemia or anorexia. I found the whole thing fascinating, and made all the more special since Josh's aunt and her friends had put the whole thing together themselves years ago.

One of the themes mentioned was also the idea of having "enough." Enough money, enough success, enough beauty, enough power, enough of whatever it is you need to make you happy. If you are always focusing on what you don't have enough of, whenever you actually get it, it still won't be enough. So you must learn to view the blessings in your life as enough- somehow.

This is incredibly difficult, of course. If anyone knows how to easily internalize that value, I'm all ears. I know that I have been battling my own demons of having enough for years. In the moment that we were reading these passages, I kept thinking about my internal obsession with being thin enough. I've touched on it before, and it takes a great deal of willpower for me to look past whatever flaws I see and focus on the positive.

Weight or size numbers don't matter, because this obsession isn't rooted in logic. I can tell myself logically that I am relatively thin, but when I look in the mirror and think that my pants look tighter, or that my thighs look thicker, it makes me want to scream. The only thing that has worked as of late, is the realization that when I look back on pictures from college, or pictures from my honeymoon, I see that in fact I was thin, and I still thought I looked fat at the time. In pictures from a spring break trip in my sophomore year of college, you can see my collarbones jutting out above my tanktop, and my ribs show in my bathing suit. Before I got married, I lived near Central Park and ran two and a half miles every morning before walking over a mile each way to work. I forgot to eat for several days in a row before my wedding day, and yet, when I got pictures back from my honeymoon, I was disgusted with the way my hips looked in my bathing suit. And that was 20 pounds ago.

I could strive to maintain an unattainable 20 pounds less, or to wish for a smaller size, or a different shape, or I can tell myself that as I look back now and see that I was just fine then, I am just fine now.

I stopped preventing Josh from snapping pictures of me in my bathing suit when we were in St. Croix, because in 30 years I'm sure I'll look back and remember what a nut I was to think I was overweight. And even if I don't, I owe it to myself to stop obsessing about it. My children might enjoy pointing at their mother's old-fashioned bathing suit and floppy pink hat and laughing. I have to believe when Josh says I am beautiful, and I have to accept that no matter what I do, there will be good and bad parts of me. The good has to be enough for me.

I am enough the way that I am. I have to learn to find enough in every area of my life.**
______________________________________
** Obviously, I'm talking about finding enough in a life with no serious problems. I hope this doesn't come across as my trivializing people's lives who do face difficult times.

a morning for brussels griffons

(Scene: In bed, Sunday morning, Halloweenlover stirs)

Tango: I saw that! She is up! I will go jump on her face!

Murray: Snooze...

Tango: Darn it, her face is under the pillow now. I will frantically dig against her ear until she gets up. Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch.

Murray: Zzzzzzzz...

(Halloweenlover lover gets up, goes to the bathroom and climbs back into bed to sleep some more)

Tango: Why must she torment me like this? I saw her get up. I must start playing now. I will climb on Josh's chest and stare at him.

Murray: Oh boy! Oh boy! She's up! Hurray!

Halloweenlover: Enough! Time for bed. Lie down!

Tango: I will not lie down. I will sit and glare at you, and lift my front right paw and shake dramatically in protest.

Murray: Oh boy! Oh boy! We're going back to bed!

Tango: Stupid dog. We must engage in silent protest. Do not get under those covers! I mean it! Stay awake!

Murray: Snore...

Tango: I will pace the bed until someone gets up. I need my ball and duck and monkey. I cannot live for another moment without my stuffed friends. This is torture.

(Josh gets up for the day. He offers to take Tango off the bed, and Tango runs to retrieve the stuffed fish in the hallway, and runs back to the edge of the bed, begging to be put back onto the bed.)

Murray: (moves further under the covers)

Tango: Ha! I will drop my wet slobbery fish onto her neck until she wakes up. I will not play with Josh! She must get up! She will listen!

(Slobbery fish dropped onto neck, stuffed under pillow, pressed into face)

Halloweenlover: (groaning) Okay okay, let's go downstairs.

Murray: Oh boy! Oh boy! Time to get up!

Tango: I am victorious again.

(Scene to be replayed Monday morning)

a break from our regularly scheduled caribbean blogging

We have BIIIIGGGG news around here peeps. Big big news.

This weekend and during the first half of this week, Josh finished my closet. My new and improved Elfa Closet. And I think I'm in love. If I could, I'd make sweet love to the closet. In fact, I spent so much time in there that Josh shoved me aside to see what all the fuss was about, and in a muffled voice from inside, I heard him sigh and say, "Oh, I have closet envy."

Let's look back on the day that I cleaned out my closet here. If you'll notice, the date that I cleaned out my closet and purchased the Elfa closet materials from the Container Store was February 15, 2006. Now, I'm not bitter or anything, just stating a fact. A February 15th fact.

Regardless, this weekend Josh finally tackled the mess that was our guest room, since he told me to empty out my closet in preparation for the new organizational structure. On February 15th. Somehow I think this might have to do with the fact that his parents are coming to visit for Passover, and our guest room looks like this:



Maybe I'm too cynical. What do you think?








Let's get some perspective before we tackle this mess. This is what my closet looked like when we started.


The problem with the original closet was that it was actually an L shaped closet, with the door at one end of the L (see Josh's arm? That is the rest of the L shape). That meant that in order for me to reach all of my clothes, I'd have to duck under clothing and get pelted in the head by hangers, while stepping over shoes and maneuvering between purses. It wasn't the ideal situation so I'd been protesting for a few months over the poor setup. Josh wasn't convinced that we could make it any better, but armed with measurements and my own crafty plans, I got the Container Store to plan out a closet that would allow me to utilize the whole L shape, while also allowing me to get into the closet and view all of my clothes. Keep in mind, of course, that the closet is small. We're not talking walk-in style.

Josh tore down the wooden structure that was there, and I patched holes, sanded, and painted the entire closet a gleaming clean white. Even the ceiling! Without the long bar inside, it looked so much bigger than I'd imagined. Then he hung the brackets upon which the Elfa system hangs.


Then we hung the bars from the brackets, and attached the different shelves or rods, according to the organizational plan.









The Container Store crew came up with some good solutions, even with the small size.







When you are looking in through the closet door, we have a double rod for hanging clothes, and two shelves. On the right hand side is enough space for me to walk into the closet, and turn to see the rest of the L shape and those shelves.




View from outside of the closet looking in.












The rest of the L shape has another double bar, one long hanging bar for dresses and long skirts, and then a row of 5 shelves for sweaters and shirts.




This is at the opening of the closet, looking into the rest of the L shape, but you can't see around the curve yet.
















Do you see the prettiness? Don't you love how the white shelves and brackets match the gleaming white walls?









I'm in LUURRVVEEE folks. Head over heels. For the past year, I've had clothes scattered throughout the house. Some hanging in a closet in the basement, some hanging in the closet that I hope will someday be a nursery, some in an armoire in the guest room, and already I was able to empty two closets out to consolidate the clothes in my one closet. And I still have room! The difference is unbelievable!




Standing in the middle of the closet, looking into the bend.









It is a struggle to come to work in the morning these days, because I have to part with my beautiful closet. But getting dressed has been a pleasure, and once I line my gorgeous shelves with my flowery smelling new shelf liners, I may have to take some personal days off. That, and I need to figure out where my shoes will go, because we didn't so much take that into consideration. Suggestions?

Now please free to tell me you have closet envy and want to make sweet love to the closet too. I'm surprised I haven't named it yet.

sun, sea, and snorkeling

St. Croix was beautiful! The weather hovered around 80 degrees with a light breeze coming off of the water every day we were there. We were staying in little cottages right on the beach called Cottages By The Sea- spartan and simple, but right on the ocean.



















The downside to that was that we lived with sand in our cottage the whole week, and even had sand in our bed because it was too hard to brush the dogs off every time they came inside! It was worth it, though. This was the view from our front door:




I could let the dogs in and out several times per day. Tango stood at the door and begged to go out every minute of the day, and once outside he'd lounge in the sand refusing to go into the shade. When I finally called them inside, he'd stand at the edge of our porch and glare at me, as if demanding to know why he had to leave the sunshine.





There are two main towns in St. Croix- Fredricksted and Christiansted. We stayed just outside of Fredricksted where there were very few tourists. Both towns are very cute, although there were more restaurants and shops in Christiansted.




We could walk to Fredricksted, and did every morning to grab breakfast or an iced coffee. Our cottage had a kitchenette, so we kept cereal and snacks in there but we still ventured over to the town for lunch or dinner or my required iced coffees.






The town was small, but had a couple of shops, several restaurants, and a beautiful boardwalk that is being remodeled.

Even though many of the buildings are run down, they are painted in colorful Caribbean pastels, and framed against the clear blue skies, I couldn't help but take picture after picture.




We rented a car to take us around the island, particularly when our hotel told us that it might be up to $40 each way to get us over to the other town for dinner or sightseeing.














Christiansted was fun, but still very low-key. St. Croix isn't huge into the tourism, and it seemed that most people were interested in the sun, sea, and snorkeling. And maybe the pina coladas, too, or maybe that's just me.




There is an old fort right on the waterfront in Christiansted, and it was certainly beautiful! A lovely, sunny yellow!



This was the old customs house, where they'd weigh goods that came into St. Croix.




In spite of Josh's protests, I couldn't deny my history major tendencies and forced him to do a walking tour of the town.


Here is the town hall and the steeple building. These buildings set against the waterfront are breathtaking!










This is just a small portion of the pictures we took over the week! It was a bit excessive, but fun to look back now. Tomorrow I'll add a few more, and you'll have to settle an argument Josh and I are having about what kind of animal is in a wall sculpture. The waiters at the restaurant weighed in on his side, but I have faith in all of you.

i couldn't tell you who had more fun

St. Croix was fantastic! We did nothing besides sitting on the beach, swimming in the ocean, and eating. It was perfect and exactly what we needed.

I'm still catching up on bills, emails, work, and getting the house somewhat clean, but I have so many stories and pictures to share.

I've decided that a little bit of sun and relaxation is exactly what we needed, given the fact that we are all feeling a little bit more upbeat and a little more motivated. A little more tan, too. Well, except for Josh, who is a lot more freckly.

More tomorrow, once we've caught our breath. I can't wait to catch up with all of you.

this doesn't count as cruelty to animals, right?

Thanks for all your well-wishes on my tooth. It sounds like I made out quite well on the root canal front, all things considered. I really didn't think it was much worse than a filling, and the shots barely hurt at all. He numbed it with a gel first, and then did the shot, and I couldn't even feel it. Only these teeny twinges I mentioned were bothersome. I'm glad I didn't ask you all sooner, though, or I'd have really been puking from nervousness.

I've been contenting myself with thinking about Spring coming soon (please please soon), and days and nights in St. Croix. I'm so focused on that trip, though, that I am starting to worry about my mental health when I get back. You probably shouldn't focus on the end of your vacation before it actually starts, right?

Lots of my fellow associates have told me that one week is simply not enough. It often takes a full week for you to stop worrying about work or checking your Blackberry obsessively (mine is named Eye of Sauron, for those of you that know Lord of the Rings, his all-seeing eye watches me everywhere). The second week is pure pleasure, once your blood pressure has come down a bit.

Unfortunately, I've never had the nerve to take a two-week trip. Mainly because it makes me nervous, plus I'd have to leave the dogs with someone and two weeks is a long time. Also because, for some reason, the prospect of actually having potential vacation days is very important to me. If I ran out of days in October, I might have a little breakdown.

Sooo, I will focus on my activities in the 5 days that I have. Monday night will see me (hopefully) placing bets on crabs. You don't think the crabs mind, do you? This doesn't negate my love of animals, I hope.

Tuesday we have a snorkling trip planned to Buck Island. Let's hope my normally crushing motion sickness doesn't get me on the trip out there on a sailboat.

Wednesday or Thursday I'd like to take a tour of the island, and besides that, I expect to have A LOT of pina coladas. They are my most favoritest drink, you know?

Plus, even though Jo(e) says you can't plan it, I still "plan" on attempting my first ever skinny dipping expedition (shhhhhh!). I feel that with a cottage on the beach, I'm never going to get a better chance than this, right?

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Tango says he doesn't care, as long as we bring his chew toys.

not a good day

Yesterday, that is, was not a good day. I woke up paralyzed with nausea, afraid to move because I was sure that the slightest movement would result in my covering Tango with vomit. He had pressed himself into my armpit, his body stretched against my side- his favorite position. Josh usually leaves for school before I wake up, so Murray uses the opportunity to rest his head on Josh's pillow and scrunch his body under the covers. Just like a human.

After an hour of wishing the nausea away, I knew that I had to find a way to shower and get dressed, because yesterday morning was also my dreaded dentist appointment. For my root canal, ick.

Two weeks ago, I had a first appointment with a new dentist, who took the requisite dental x-rays, and found a cavity on my back lower molar. He warned me that it looked like it might be close to the root, and with a grimace, might require a root canal.

Ridiculous, I thought. I am an obsessive teeth brusher and flosser. I had braces in law school, and I learned not to eat candy to avoid stains or cavities, drink coffee through a straw to avoid staining my teeth (did you know that tip?), and I use flouride every week. My parents had dental problems while I was growing up, and their trips to the dentist scared me into action. I don't think I have EVER gone to bed with brushing my teeth. Ever. I'll ask my mom for confirmation, but when I tell you it is a compulsion, I am not exaggerating.

When my braces were removed at graduation, though, no one took x-rays, and I suspect that problem was existing at the time. The cavity is right on that moral they use as the anchor with braces, the one that gets covered by the metal band. It would have been impossible for me to prevent food from getting stuck under there.

Anyway, when I went for the filling, it turned out to need a root canal. The cavity had just infiltrated the root, and according to the dentist, if I didn't do something about it, it would decay the root and compromise the strength of the tooth. If we took out the infected nerve right away, I'd save the tooth from decaying too soon. This weekend I mourned my poor defenseless tooth, and moped around a bit, but the root canal was not bad at all.

It took about an hour and 15 minutes, long enough for my jaw to be screaming in protest from being held open. The periodontist said that many people fell asleep while he was working on their teeth, but that was soooo not going to happen with me. I did have a moment of panic when he told me that I was totally numb and wouldn't feel a thing, but then felt 3 sharp jabs in quick succession on the bottom of my jaw, under my chin. They were each less than a split second, but I was so surprised to feel such a sharp pain that I screwed my eyes up and started crying for a few seconds out of fear of what else I'd feel. That was it, though, nothing to write home about. It was certainly no worse than a regular filling, just longer.

In a month I'll meet again with my dentist to decide whether a permanent filling or cap will be required. He suspects a filling, but we'll have to see.

While the drilling was going on, I kept trying unsuccessfully to imagine myself in St. Croix to focus on other things. About halfway through, they turned on the radio or put in a cd, and strangely, played my wedding song. I say strangely, because the song I walked down the aisle to is fairly unusual and uncommon- Sarah Brightman's "No One Like You."

I took it as a sign that I should calm down, which I did.

In your eyes are my secrets
that I've never shown you
In my heart I feel
I've always known you

In your arms there's a comfort
that I never knew
You're what I've been waiting for,
there's no one like you

Sure as the sunrise, pure as a prayer
You fashioned hope right out of thin air
Ev'ry dream I abandoned,
seems it could come true
I believe in miracles,
there's no one like you.

walk on the hill

Last week, my firm participated in the Walk to the Hill for Civil Legal Aid. Over 400 attorneys in private practice crowded into the State House to march on the Capital for a $4.5 million increase in funding for legal aid in Boston. We received the names of our Senator and Representative, based on our constituency, as well as talking points to share with the Senators and Representatives.

After a brief talk from some of the legal aid organizations that the increased funds would benefit, all the attorneys split up to visit their respective parties.

It was short, and sweet, and in less than three hours I'd visited my Senator and Representative, spoken to each about increasing funding for worthy groups, had lunch and was back at the office.

It was a beautiful almost-Spring day, and it is always nice to see colleagues outside of the office. They let their guards down, become more personable and friendly. And of course, it is always nice to do something for others.

Perfect for the soul. It was a great opportunity to bring Camille along to practice taking some pictures of the event and the other attorneys from my firm that came along.

i don't think the massachusetts board of tourism is going to call me now

I'm not sure that I believe there is a such thing as hell, but if there is, I AM quite sure about how it will feel.

Just like downtown Boston during the Big Dig. Seriously. The worst part about the Big Dig isn't the mind-bending traffic, although that is bad, or the constant banging, whirring, screeching sounds, although that is bad too, or the fact that all of Massachusetts' money is going to fund this never-ending project, even though that stinks.

No, it isn't any of that. It is the fact that every ever-loving day, I drive to work. And EVERY DAY, the road is different.

Yesterday, the left lane was a turn left only lane and the middle and right lanes went straight. This would make sense, because across the street, the road is only 2 lanes, not three. But TODAY, today the left lane also goes straight. And this morning I found myself crossing the intersection between a school bus and a huge freight truck, and they both began to squish me between them in their effort to enter the two lane road ahead of us.

The turn onto the 93 highway used to be on the right, with a somewhat clearly marked sign. Now, the entry is on the left side, with no sign letting you know in advance that it has changed. It has been 3 weeks since that change, and I promise you, there has not been one morning that a driver from the right hand lane hasn't zoomed in front of me turning left, almost causing an accident. Every. Single. Morning.

Last week, I turned right into my building off of the main road. This week, I have to do a complicated series of turns, that are not explained nor are they labeled, in order to make it into my parking lot.

The other night when I took a cab back to my car from the movie, the cab driver got so hopelessly lost that he threw his hands up in the air and turned off the meter. When we finally pulled up in front of my building, he dejectedly said, "pay whatever you want."

There are also no crosswalks, because the street is littered with crushed concrete and spray painted arrows and unintelligible symbols that allegedly make sense to the construction folks, so on top of everything else, there are people crossing in the middle of the street. They just pop up between parked cars and big piles of dirt to take years away from my life.

Every night, it takes me half an hour or more to go the 10 blocks until the freeway. At least a half-hour. This week, I've endeavored to work from home past 7pm just to avoid that traffic. The words that spew from my mouth would make sailors blush.

This morning, though, after almost getting crushed between the school bus and the freight truck, there was a final indignity. Look at the new drivers on the road:




10 miles per hour, people, 10 MILES PER HOUR. I think I need a drink, and it is only 9:30am.

ok, it isn't kokomo

Bodies in the sand
Tropical drink melting in your hand
We'll be falling in love
To the rhythm of a steel drum band

We'll put out to sea
And we'll perfect our chemistry
By and by we'll defy a little bit of gravity

Afternoon delight
Cocktails and moonlit nights
That dreamy look in your eye
Give me a tropical contact high

I realize I never responded to your vacation suggestions, which were all wonderful. Thank you!!! It took some finagling to find a spot that took dogs, and would allow us to easily fly with the dogs. They don't seem to mind traveling, since they love their bag, but I hate to keep them in there for too long. Even flying to California seems to me to be hard on them. After all, they can't go to the bathroom in their bag and they don't eat on the trip.

I ended up discovering a great deal on tickets to St. Croix from Budget Travel Online. If you haven't experienced the wonder that is Budget Travel, I'd bookmark it now. It is my all-time favorite source for vacations. In law school, I found a deal for $600 for 6 nights in Rio de Janeiro, airfare, hotel and transfers included. 6 of my girlfriends and I took advantage of the trip and had a fantastic time. The hotel was the Copacabana Hotel, nothing too fancy, but right on the beach and within walking distance to a number of restaurants, bars and shops. Through the same company we organized tours of Corcovado*, Sugarloaf, and other sites, as well as Samba shows. I'd recommend any of their deals.

Sooooo, we are off to St. Croix in a couple of weeks. I also found very reasonable little cottages right on the beach, with kitchenettes, that allows dogs. Perfect for us! That way, we can eat breakfast at the cottage and do a grocery run for snacks. It'll save us a little more money. It also makes it easier with the dogs, who can run in and out of the cottage while we are sitting on the beach. A private beach! Hurray! I'm concerned about the heat and the pups, especially Murray, but with the room right nearby, I can stick them inside if the temperatures get too high.

I. Can. Not. Wait.

I need a week away from work. I need a week of sleep. I need to not be cold all the time for a few days. I also can't wait to see the dogs' reaction to the warm water and sand. They've only been swimming once, on Cape Cod, and Tango has been to the beach in Florida. He kept trying to eat the sand.

What I do NOT need, is to put on a bathing suit, but maybe Josh won't notice the extra pounds. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Camille will also be coming on the vacation, of course, and I'm hoping that I'll have figured out enough to take some nice beach/flower/ocean pictures. Maybe that will keep me going until spring!


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* Blogger suggested Crackpots instead of Corcovado. Ha!

more about camille

I took my Introduction to SLR Photography this weekend. It was by the Nikon School of Photography- instructors that travel around the country holding an introductory and advanced class over a weekend.

It was great. I learned quite a bit in the 9-4:30pm course on Saturday. Although Nikon sponsored the course, it was fairly generic. They went over "basic" SLR technology, lenses, software, and picture-taking skills. I say basic sarcastically, because, um, no one told me that photography could be so complicated. My head is spinning between apertures and shutters and film speed.

Before I was born, my father worked a second job as a professional photographer. I remember pulling out these fantastically glamourous pictures of my mother he took when they were in their twenties. I would stare at the pictures and wonder if I'd ever look like her when I grew up (unfortunately, I don't). When they moved to the United States, though, my father didn't have a dark room or the time or money to keep up his photography. He had a good quality point and shoot, and because he had the talent and the eye, his pictures were still impressive.

From the time I can remember, my father set me up with a basic camera and provided tips on how to take pictures. Center the subject. Try to put people in the picture for perspective. Make pictures interesting. Work with the sun behind you. And on and on. Through his teaching, I was able to frame pictures in an acceptable manner, but we never went over any of the more technical details of photography.

Saturday's course was exciting, because each new lesson learned meant a new kind of picture, a new level of skill. Holy smokes, though, it is so much harder than my old point and shoot! So much more potential for mistake.


I spent most of the day on Sunday taking practice pictures and trying to remember some of what I'd learned on Saturday. This one only took about 90 practice pictures to get right.


It is much harder than I ever thought it would be. I guess I'll be reading through the manual again. And then again. And then I'm thinking that I'll sign up for a longer photography course, because maybe that will help me to remember some of these tips.

One of the things I've always wanted to do is take those pictures where your subject is super focused, and the background is blurred.

I'm still ecstatic to have Camille, and she certainly takes lovely pictures, when I don't mess them up. But, it is difficult.

Murray says, "how embarassing! I have a leaf on my face."

Tango says, "stop taking pictures and just throw the stinking ball, mom."

I also got Photoshop Elements, and that should help to correct those pictures that I screw up. Like when I spent an hour taking pictures outside in bright sunlight after I'd just set the camera for indoor lighting. Hmmm, that would explain the black pictures.

when you call a stranger out

On Friday night, I went with a friend to see When a Stranger Calls.

I know, shut up.

One of the reviews said that the scariest part of this movie was imagining how much Windex it takes to clean all the windows in this house, and that isn't far off from the truth. It was pretty slow-moving and non-scary. But really, this isn't about the movie.

My friend, T, was at a restaurant in Boston's Theater District, having drinks with a friend before we met for the movie. The Theater District isn't toooo far from where I work, so I set out walking to get there. I'd failed to recognize that it was sub-zero temperatures on Friday night and that I was wearing thin pants. I made it to Boston Common, and realized that by the time I made it to the restaurant, I'd have hypothermia and also need to turn right around and start walking back to the movie theater. So I did the logical thing, and stopped inside the movies, called T and let her know I'd meet her there instead, and then set upon defrosting.

I asked to use their restroom to examine my wind-blown hair and stop my frozen nose from running all over my face, and although the restroom was behind the ticket taker's stand, they waved me through with nary a glance. When I returned, I parked myself near the ticket taker's stand, leaning against the snack bar, waiting for T to arrive.

After a few minutes, two young girls wandered over from a larger group of teens to the side of the theater where I was standing. They were well-dressed, around 13 or 14 years old, laughing, and African-American. Chatting animatedly, they asked the ticket taker, who also happened to be African-American, if they could use the bathroom. At this point, I was hardly paying attention, but then the ticket taker said rather nastily, "I don't know. Do you have a ticket?" When the girls said no, she said that it wasn't a public restroom and until they got a ticket, they couldn't use the bathroom. I was surprised, because obviously I'd just been allowed into the bathroom. One of the girls said that they were waiting for a couple of friends before choosing a movie and purchasing tickets. The ticket taker just stared at the girl rudely, and shook her head no, "When you get a ticket, you can use the bathroom."

As the two girls went back to the group of teens they'd been standing with, a manager who'd been standing nearby the whole time, said to the ticket taker, "You can just tell sometimes. You can't let everyone through."

I understand that white or black, some teenagers can be intimidating, "sketchy," appear to be trouble-makers. These girls were not and did not look like anything other than sweet girls who needed to use the restroom. They were even part of a group of teens, further proof that it was unlikely they'd disappear into the theater.

I'm sure it happens all the time. I'm sure I shouldn't be shocked, but I was. I didn't know what to say. Had the ticket taker been Caucasian, I would have walked over and asked her why she let me through, and not the girls. I could have called her out as a racist. But how could I call someone out as racist who was discriminating against people of her own race?

T arrived shortly thereafter, and I recounted the story to her as we walked to our seats. I'm annoyed at myself for not saying anything, and I'm saddened that the manager confirmed the ticket taker's behavior as appropriate. Sigh. A 30 second interaction, and now it is Sunday, and I'm still stewing.