Saturday, October 30, 2010

A not so scary Halloween story

The day spa that I go to is close, convenient, and awesome. I started going there about seven or eight years ago when my aesthetician, who I had followed from a few different spas (including her own space) started working there. I was always impressed with the service and the people there. She left a while ago to go into another career, but I continued going there. I've found that for the most part I love having the owner do my waxing and facials, but over the years I've had other people for services. I've heard a glimmer of a rumor of the possibility of ghost stories, but never really paid any attention to them because a) I don't believe in ghosts and b) I'm there to relax, not ponder the afterlife.

(Examples of the kinds of stories I've heard: the bathroom light occasionally turns off and on by itself. I've experienced this myself, but always chalk it up to my own inability to operate the light switch in that bathroom, which is a little tricky. Also, supposedly voices have been heard after hours, and the sound system apparently has a life of it's own. None of these things, except for the light switch, have been experienced by me personally. Also, none of them are particularly violent or scary.)

One day I was getting a facial with a girl who was not my usual aesthetician. The service was okay, but I thought she was a tad bit rougher on my skin than I was used to. It wasn't really unpleasant, and she was nice, but it was a different style of facial. At that point I was about 14 weeks pregnant, and I did fall asleep a little, so it couldn't have been bad, just different from what I'm used to. She lectured me a little bit on my skin care regimen (which I deserved, because I've been lax about it. I just don't really know what products are safe to use while pregnant, so I've been sticking with Cetaphil, which I know is gentle, but it's not very effective, either), and then at some point she left the room to get something (the rooms don't have running water; I think she went to get some warm water).

While she was gone I kept my eyes closed and dosed and felt a little bit of that drowsy, floaty feeling I get sometimes when I'm getting a massage or a facial. It could just be low blood pressure, but I love that feeling - I know I'm relaxed and comfortable.

While I was lying there (eyes closed), I heard the door open, and felt, her, I thought, squeeze my left foot through the blankets that were covering me (I usually get cold in those rooms, and usually love that they use a heated table. I haven't been using the heat though, since I've been pregnant, so I always get an extra blanket). I thought it was the aesthetician, letting me know she was back in the room. The squeeze wasn't something the aestheticians usually do, but at the time it didn't strike me as odd, especially since I don't really know this girl at all. It wasn't painful, it didn't hurt, it didn't bother me... until about 10 minutes when the door opened again, and the aesethetician really came back in the room.

She hadn't been there at all.

No one else had come into the room.

Interestingly, I didn't freak out. I pretty much instantly knew that it was OK. I wasn't scared. I've been there a few times since, the first time for waxing. When you're waxed, if it's just facial hair (eyebrows, etc.), and you don't have to take off your clothes, the aesthetician comes in and leaves the room with you. There's no reason for her to leave you alone. So that time I was fine. I could've said something, but I didn't. The other times I was there was for massages, and the massage therapist does leave you, so that you can dress and undress, but nothing weird happened, and I didn't mention it to anyone.

Still. I think about it. Who (or what!) squeezed my foot?

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Sing blue silver!

A friend of mine on Twitter (I've never met her, but she makes frequent comments on my Stewart Copeland blog; she's funny and smart and a smart alec, thank God, and there's a link to her blog on the right side: she goes by Dufmanno) mentioned that in 2011 there are plans to release a new Duran Duran CD, and that got me to thinking, all the way in to work (in between cursing out the traffic, the freeway, and all the other drivers in my way) about their song "The Chauffeur."

I wasn't a super-huge Duran Duran fan, but my friend Missy was (sorry, Missy, if you'd hoped this fact about you in the early 80s would stay in the past), and though I credit Missy with introducing me to lots of music I still love today (Pink Floyd with Syd Barrett, the Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, among others), Duran Duran is not one of those bands that endured, for me, the test of time.

Unfortunately, they're sort of locked into memories of my childhood, much like Billy Joel's song "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me," a song we heard, it seemed, on every weekend trip to my aunt Josie's in the summer of 1980. I'm not a fan of Billy Joel either but I could probably sing you every word to that song (or any of his songs), perfectly, if you asked. Please don't ask. Really. Don't. Patrick will appreciate it if you don't.

Anyway, so I'm driving along, 5, 10 miles an hour (10 if I was lucky; truly, the 5 freeway sucks for that 6 or 7 mile stretch between the 605 and the 710. And I also blame the KPCC traffic lady, who, ten minutes before I left for work, said "And pretty much all the freeways in the area are smooth sailing!" Apparently she meant all freeways except the 5), trying to remember the one Duran Duran song that I really liked.

I'm talking about "The Chauffeur." There's something about it that captured my attention. Maybe it was the kooky octave-y opening, or the lyrics - there was something ominous and brooding about that song that appealed to me as a pre-teen.

So all the way to work, and now, for the first 10 minutes I've been sitting at my desk with a functional computer, I've been trying my best to remember how that damn song went.

Finally, I have the melody in my head, but I can't for the life of me remember all the words, except for the little bridge part, if that's what that part really is called (I haven't looked it up to see if it's on Wikipedia or checked the lyrics but I will):

So the sun drips down (bearing? what? heaving?) behind
The front of your dress all shadowy (white?)
The droning engine throbs in time with your beating heart

I don't have any Duran Duran on my iPod (and believe me, I'm not sad about that), but I think I might have to download that song today. I miss the way Simon le Bon would scream out,

Sing! Blue silver!

What was he thinking? Or talking about?

OK, so now I've looked it up, and believe it or not the song does have it's own Wikipedia entry. I had no idea it was so beloved. And here I thought I was special.

Here are the real words, just for fun:

The Chauffeur
(words and music: Duran Duran)

Out on the tar plains, the glides are moving
All looking for a new place to drive
You sit beside me so newly charming
Sweating dewdrops glisten freshing your side

And the sun drips down bedding heavy behind
The front of your dress - all shadowy lined
And the droning engine throbs in time
With your beating heart

Way down the lane away, living for another day
The aphids swarm up in the drifting haze
Swim seagull in the sky towards that hollow western isle
My envied lady holds you fast in her gaze

Sing Blue Silver

And watching lovers part, I feel you smiling
What glass splinters lie so deep in your mind
To tear out from your eyes, with a thought to stiffen brooding lies
And I'll only watch you leave me further behind

Sing Blue Silver

Sing, Sing.. Blue Silver

(There's more to this kind of camouflage)
(More than just colour and shape)
(Who's going now, in to a classiomatic? )

Monday, October 25, 2010

Happy birthday to my dad!

On Sunday my dad turned 73! We took him out to lunch (Paco's Tacos in Westchester, which in my memory was better than it turned out to be... won't be visiting again anytime soon) and spent some time hanging out at my parents' house in Culver City. Dan bought a couple of pies (yummy lemon meringue!) and the coffee drinkers had coffee.

Here's a photo (my brother Andy had to go to work) of us. For those of you wondering what I look like pregnant... well, now you can see. Isn't my dad cute! I'm not sure what Patrick's doing with his right arm - it's making his shirt hang funny.

For those of you with sharp eyes, there's a family photo from about 18 years ago on the wall behind us. It's funny, but I remember the shoes I was wearing when we took that photo (lace up, black suede platform clogs. I LOVED those shoes). In the current photo I'm wearing brown leather flip flops. For anyone, I don't know, taking notes.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

A whole new (dirtier?) world

The other day I was browsing the online store at the website for the La Leche League (these are the breastfeeding people). I had spent some time reading their materials and checking them out, and then I saw that they had a store... so I went there.

While looking around, I saw that one of the items they're selling is this thing (not this exact one; this one is from Amazon, and costs $10 less than the one the La Leche League is selling).

I was surprised, because I've seen this item before, but didn't realize that it was something that someone manufactures and sells. The one I saw, in person, at the Target in Belmont Shore, looked handmade and quilt-y - I thought the kid's overprotective grandma had made it for him. I remember taking a look at him, and then at his mom, and see, when I saw it, I thought, "Wow, this lady must be rich and crazy." Don't get me wrong, I thought it was adorable, but I also thought, Why would you need something like this?

And they're not cheap: the ones at the La Leche website go for about $45.

Now that I am going to be a mom in less than four months myself, I'm thinking about this stupid product again. And, also, my own probably unfair judging of other people. I really need to stop doing that.

(The other day, on a friend's Facebook page, I made a stupid, silly comment about tuba choirs - yes, such a thing exists - and some dude called me "snobby." Hey, maybe I am: I think it's the prerogative of all piccolo players to be a little disdainful of the TUBA section. I mean, come on. Though if this guy had known me in high school he would've realized that I am physically incapable of being a snob. Anybody looking at the clothes I wore could figure that out for themselves. But that and this are two different things... I think. Now I'm just confused, trying to figure this one out for myself. Because this shopping cart cover thing doesn't just represent making a decision about placing my baby in a shopping cart unprotected from germs, it kind of represents whether or not I'm going to be a good mom, and if I'm going to know what to do with all the millions of other decisions I'm going to have to make.)

Yesterday I had a little email discussion with my friend Andrea. She thinks it's a great idea, and I kind of agree... but I kind of don't. She has a lot of good ideas about baby care that I haven't even thought about yet (she doesn't have a baby either, I think she just in general approaches life with more advanced planning than I am capable of), so her reasoning was totally logical and makes sense: people, all kinds of people, put their dirty diapered babies in those shopping carts. Who knows if those kids are infectious or what? The carts are exposed to the elements, your dirty purse, birds, leaking meat containers, all kinds of biohazards, not to mention the slobbery little monsters intended to ride in them. Why would anyone want to put their baby in someone else's filth? She didn't say it exactly like that, but I think that's what she meant. And you know, I agree with that. Like I said, it totally makes sense. I haven't made up my mind yet either. I suspect that when the baby comes I will be changing my mind about a lot of things, and I accept that that's going to happen (but, hear me now: there will be no fucking minivans in my future, and I mean it). I think the problem I was having is that I associated this product with rich people, or the type of person who exits the bathroom using a paper towel so as to not touch the dirty bathroom door. And that kind of brings us back to the tuba thing. I just don't get it. I mean, it makes sense, kind of, but what about all the other dirty doors and surfaces you're going to touch? Life's dirty, people, get over it. I refuse to believe that it's a dirtier world today than it was 30-odd years ago.

But what the hell do I know? If I get one as a gift, am I going to refuse to use it? Nope; that thing looks comfy.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Me me!

Haven't done one of these in a while. Sometimes they're fun. We'll see if now is one of those times. Got this one from the same place as usual. Click on the title of this post if you're interested.

1. What time did you get up this morning?
I got up to pee at 2:30, 3:30, and 4:30, but I didn't actually get out of bed until 5:20 a.m.

2. How do you like your steak?
Medium rare. Pink, but not cold. And I very rarely eat steak.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Dude, I don't even know. Iron Man 2?

4. What is your favorite TV show?
Parenthood. But I totally miss "The West Wing."

5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
Closer to Culver City/Santa Monica/Venice.

6. What did you have for breakfast?
Crackers, an orange, and an apple.

7. What is your favorite cuisine?

8. What foods do you dislike?
Olives. Japanese pears. Swap meet churros.

9. Favorite place to eat?
Enrique's, La Casita Mexicana.

10. Favorite dressing?
Green goddess, creamy cucumber, Thousand Island

11.What kind of vehicle do you drive?
2004 Honda Accord

12. What are your favorite clothes?
Floppy, worn in comfy jeans, a black v-neck sweater or turtleneck.

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance?
Hawaii, France, Greece, Italy...

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?
Usually half full.

15. Where would you want to retire?
Why would I want to move from wherever I'm living when I get to that point?

16. Favorite time of day?
Quitting time?

No, seriously: favorite time of day: that time in the fall when we were in high school marching band, on a Friday night, lined up in the parking lot waiting to march out through the school campus and it wasn't dark yet and some kid named Doyle was warming up to perform "The Star Spangled Banner" with us. That is my favorite time of day.

17. Where were you born?
St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica.

18. What is your favorite sport to watch?
None, really, though I do get very invested in the Olympics.

19. Who do you think will not tag you back?
No one will tag me back because I don’t plan on tagging anyone. Tagging is so 2004.

20. Person you expect to tag you back first?
See #19

21. Who are you most curious about their responses to this?
Yeah, whatever. Do it if you want to but I'm not gonna beg.

22. Bird watcher?
No, but when I drove to Wyoming from Utah with my friend Patty to go to our friend Rachel's wedding, Patty got very angry with me because I wouldn't let her take some unmarked road to go chasing after a spectacular bird she saw because I was afraid we'd (a) get lost (b) miss our plane and (c) get killed. She loves telling that story.

23. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Not really either. I think I only like staying up late because going to bed at night sometimes feels like death to me. What? Too depressing?

24. Do you have any pets?
Yes! Franny, a fat black & white kitty with crooked facial markings and a big belly, and Dora, a scaredy cat black kitty with tiny feet and a swirly pig tail.

25. Any new and exciting news you’d like to share?
Hey, man, I'm having a baby!

26. What did you want to be when you were little?
I don't know, probably a teacher, or a race car driver.

27. What is your best childhood memory?
Hmmm. Lots of them. I was just reminding my brother the other day of how, the night before my first day of school (kindergarten?) he sat me down at the kitchen table and made me learn how to write (print) my name, because he said all kids should know that.

28. Are you a cat or dog person?
Right now I'm a cat person but I love dogs too!

29. Are you married?
Yes, 12 years this past April!

30. Always wear your seat belt?
Oh, yeah.

31. Been in a car accident?
Just minor ones.

32. Any pet peeves?
My co-workers who clip their nails at their desks. I'm sure there are others but right now that one stands out the most.

33. Favorite pizza toppings?
Mushrooms, sausage, pineapple, fresh tomatoes.

34. Favorite flower?
You know, I really don't have a favorite flower. Is that weird?

35. Favorite ice cream?
Chocolate Malted Crunch, of course.

36. Favorite fast food restaurant?

37. How many times did you fail your driver’s test?
Okay, listen. I was a very immature driver. It took three tries.

38. From whom did you get your last email?
My friend Andrea.

39. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?
Crate & Barrel, J. Crew, Zappos

40. Do anything spontaneous lately?
Not really.

41. Like your job?
I like my boss, and most of my co-workers, but occasionally I get bored. Oops, maybe I shouldn't have admitted that.

42. Broccoli?

43. What was your favorite vacation?
Trip to NY with my brother, and to Chicago with Patrick.

44. Last person you went out to dinner with?

45. What are you listening to right now?
Patrick is watching Countdown with Keith Olbermann.

46. What is your favorite color?
I like red, and blue, and orange, and green...

47. How many tattoos do you have?

48. How many are you tagging for this quiz?
Hey! None!

49. What time did you finish this quiz?
9:00 p.m.

50. Coffee drinker?
Not now, but I like it once in awhile, with lots of real milk and sugar.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Ay caramba, dude!

So it's pretty much week 24 over here in baby-making land. I say "pretty much" because I've been counting the weeks as starting on Friday, so technically this is week 23, day 3. I'm not exactly sure why I started doing that. Oh, duh, it's because my due date is a Friday. See? LOGIC.

I've had a few pre-natal appointments, and my first ultrasound was a few weeks ago (though, and this is curious, I had an appointment right after that, but nobody at Kaiser thought to tell me that "Oh, the baby's development and placenta and organs all looked great on the ultrasound" until the very last appointment, which was... last Friday. Of course, I assumed that everything was fine - because otherwise they would've said something, no? - but this might be a sign of some quickly departing naivete on my part. I've been measured and weighed and the baby has been listened to, and hey, you know what? I seem to be growing a perfectly fine kid in there.

Believe me, I'm just as shocked and relieved as you are.

Last week I changed my appointment, which had originally been on Wednesday, to Friday, so I wouldn't have to use any work time to go, and I couldn't get the same midwife/nurse practitioner ladies I had before. Without naming names, the original midwife/nurse practitioner was much better, even though these appointments basically only consist of me urinating in a cup (messy, gosh, you'd think I'd be better at that by now), getting weighed, and having the doctor or whoever listen to the baby. This is the first time Patrick's schedule has allowed him to come to one of these routine appointments (he's been there for the major ones) so while he got to see the underwater view at the ultrasound, he's never heard the heart beat like that before. He thought that was pretty cool. And he agrees: the baby sounds like a teeny tiny very hungry washing machine(c). Well, I haven't copyrighted it yet, but I should, don't you think?

Anyway, though it means I'll probably have to use time off to go to my appointments (because I don't think the midwife/nurse practitioner I liked is available on Fridays, my day off), I think I'm going to go back to her from now on. There's not really much I can say about just what it was that I didn't like about the new lady, except that she was younger and more brusque than the other one. Oh, and she seemed to be under the impression that I had experienced some early contractions, which I have not, and even though I told her, nope, that's not a problem I'm having, she asked me again as if I could possibly have been mistaken.

No. I think I would remember that.

I scheduled a bunch of pre-natal classes for me and Patrick, including one on breastfeeding, and of course the Lamaze classes. I've pretty much done my best to avoid thinking about the day of actual delivery, but I guess it's time to start... oh, but the class doesn't start until next month, so I have some time still. Oh, and this week I scheduled my 3 hour glucose test, so I have that to look forward to.

I think I mentioned somewhere that we bought some baby furniture last week - crib, mattress, and dresser/changing table. The stuff is cute. The dresser is actually on order, but that's okay, because the room is, though mostly empty, not ready. Patrick emptied it of most of the things that were in there (except the closet, because now where the hell are we going to put our coats? My house has too few closets!), and started scraping the paint and patching the holes. We need to make a decision on wall color (I'm going for neutral, he seems to want an actual color on the walls), window coverings, and I need to go shopping with my parents for a glider or arm chair. We bought two braided rugs from JC Penney yesterday (one for the living room). The one for the baby's room is blue, and I hope I didn't make a mistake in choosing it without having anything else purchased. But they were having a sale, and our sweet neighbors (who work at JC Penney) gave us a coupon to use for an extra discount (1 day only!)... so it had to be done fast.

Today I finally made a decision about the car seat and stroller I want, though I could be easily swayed at this point if anybody cares to write in with their own suggestions. I just went with Consumer Reports' recommendation. And I'm starting to look at things (like bathtubs and rectal thermometers!) online, at Amazon and other baby-related sites, and to think about how I want the baby's room to look and function. Oh, and where I'm going to put all the crap in that closet. Seriously, it's a major issue.

Anyway, that's all the excitement going on in regards to that topic. We're still working on a name.

I'm sure this is fascinating reading, here. Other than the baby stuff, I've been at the theater, on the couch, and at work (possibly in that order). Really, my couch is very comfortable. Take my word for it.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Rockabye Baby!

The store where we bought the baby furniture was also selling (and playing) these CDs. Very cool.

New Wave Wednesday (and Thursday)

The last couple of days, I've been having a bit of a new wave revolution on my iPod. I don't have a ton of stuff (and this must be rectified) but what I do have has been on pretty much constantly since yesterday morning. What does this mean, exactly? Well, I won't list every song or artist I listened to, but three of them (Siouxsie and the Banshees, Lene Lovich, and Felony) were topping the list of favorites. Oh, wait, make that four: I was also enjoying all the Missing Persons songs on my iPod, though I always laugh at the backup singing. Oh, damn, make it five: and Bow Wow Wow, of course - "Do You Wanna Hold Me" is perfect poppy bliss. While listening this morning on the drive to work, I considered the idea that if I'm going to pursue this habit of listening to this kind of music, I need to apply more (read: some) eyeliner in the mornings.

Patrick suggested I add "Human Sexual Response" to my list of bands but while I agree they're a good example of New Wave, I just don't like their music.

(Aside: before our discussion of New Wave, we watched a video a friend loaned us on babies and forming an early attachment, and it was so sweet and powerful! Also the little babies on the video were all super cute. One of the moms interviewed mentioned how when she puts her baby to sleep, she plays "white noise" for the baby to listen to. Apparently this woman is under the impression that white noise helps her daughter sleep. We'd never heard of this idea, and so I looked it up this morning. I found that WebMD disagrees, and even states that white noise can delay a baby's development. However, last night, we wondered if, lacking any white noise, we might substitute Sonic Youth? Have there been any studies on the effects of No Wave on children? Finally, my last note on this topic, at the store where we purchased the crib and dresser over the weekend, they were playing these CDs that are baby-fied versions of real bands, like the Who, the Stones, and Radiohead. Totally silly, and, excuse me, RAD. I need that Radiohead one.)

Then this morning, KROQ played Nirvana's cover of Meat Puppet's "Lake of Fire," which is not in any way shape or form "New Wave," and it was revealed that none of Patrick's Meat Puppets CDs are on my iPod, and now the CDs themselves are missing. This is bad news, but, of course, nothing like being trapped in a mine for 69 days. Patrick and I also wondered if Curt Kirkwood made a lot of money when Nirvana did that cover. We hope so. We also hope if Cris got any of the money, that he didn't shoot it into his arm.

Last night I had a long complicated dream that started with me finding a black and white kitten (more black than white) with different colored eyes (one green, one blue) in my sister's closet and after my mother emphatically stated that the kitty couldn't live in their house, I left him with my brother Dan, who was going to set up a bed and get some food. I had to leave because I had to go pick up my friend Sarah for something we were going to do, which was never explained. I took off on my co-worker's commuter bike that looks a little like this (I don't remember which model he got, he just showed it to me yesterday; all I remember is that it's a Trek and cost less than $400) and drove around a neighborhood that was part Culver City (Sunkist Park area) and part semi-familiar dream location. I ended up at a liquor store that looked suspiciously like the Duck Pond in Culver City, where I left my bike outside and went in buy something. There were two pro cyclists there in their full on pro cycling gear, with these giant bikes, and they laughed at me because, well, a pregnant woman on a bike is pretty funny looking.

I left the Duck Pond and realized that I had to pick Sarah up, which I couldn't really do on a bicycle made for one, so I rushed back home, where for some reason I found myself on the following streets of Culver City: Farragut Drive (east of Overland), Selmaraine Drive (where a kid I knew since kindergarten lived, but I haven't seen since high school), Higuera Street, and all the streets behind El Marino Elementary School.

Anyway, then I woke up, surprisingly well-rested in spite of having a bit of a trial in falling asleep the night before, with my own black and white kitty (pretty even distribution of white v. black) curled up on my arm, sniffing my nose. Now why do you think she does that?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Oh, crap

And I forgot: the babyproofing of the house.

Stuff. Stuff!

This morning I woke up at 4:15 and realized that I still have no idea which will be the right:
  • car seat
  • stroller
  • glider
  • diapers
  • Boppy (what the hell is a Boppy? But everyone says I need it!)
  • night light
  • crib toys
  • breast pump (oh, dear; please, please, please, I am not ready to discuss breast pumps)
  • nursing bras
  • stretch mark lotion
  • baby monitor
  • moses basket
  • bassinet
  • laundry detergent
  • baby bathtub
  • preventative measure for keeping kitties out of the baby's crib/moses basket/bassinet
  • all the many other items (rectal thermometer? articles of clothing?) that if I continue to think about I will have a full-on panic attack and NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR THIS.
Oh, man, all the things we need to buy for the baby who will be coming to live with us in early February! and unlike most house guests, this one will be staying with us for at least 18 years and will be bringing NOTHING OF HIS OWN WITH HIM.

(In 12 years of marriage we have had exactly two house guests, both guitarists, both interested only in a warm cozy place to sleep and to perhaps treat us to dinner in exchange for the privilege of sleeping with our cats on an air mattress, while on their way someplace else. Both were delightful. Both stayed less than two days.)

At 4:15 a.m. when I woke up in the pitch black morning, I sat there (well, technically I was lying down) in bed for awhile mulling over the various reference materials I have at my fingertips to look at for ideas about these and all the millions of other things we need, and then my poor little brain exploded, and I got up to do what I always do when that happens, the only possible repair for exploded brain syndrome, and that is: I went into the kitchen, turned on NPR, and did the dishes.

The other day, last month, I visited a friend of mine who has a beautifully remodeled home, and she showed me the closet she had had installed in the living room specifically for her daughter's "crap." And she said, "you know, kids have a lot of stuff!" At the time I (secretly) scoffed, because I thought, on my stupid uninformed high horse (get that horse some reading material!), oh my god, is that what having a child is about? Buying them STUFF?" and maybe not, but there is definitely some stuff that is absolutely required, and my teeny tiny unremodeled, could still be 1944, house, is nowhere big enough or in possession of nearly enough closet space for this KID who is coming to stay with us. FOREVER. And all his stuff has to go somewhere.

Patrick used his day off today to clear the room of all the stuff I was supposed to go through and throw away/file/put away and I have a feeling he took all that stuff and put it in a big pile in the middle of the garage floor. The idea is that I will drag a chair out there and my iPod and go through it with an eye for detail and organization and you know, organize it. Yep. That's the idea. Probably what will happen is, it will be shoved into plastic bins and hidden away in the dark recesses of the garage, never to be seen again.

That's okay, though, because he's the one who will have to paint and prime and patch holes and paint the inside of the closet (why is it, if you neglect to specifically ask a man to paint a closet, he just flat out won't do it?).

See, there's no hurry (four more months to go!) but there kind of is, because I suck at making decisions (we bought the crib and dresser yesterday but still need to pick wall colors and bedding and all that other stuff) and left to my own devices I might not ever figure out what I want in there, at all, and my baby will end up in a lime green room to match the lime green bathroom, and NOBODY WANTS THAT.

And all this talk about painting gets my eyes to looking around the rest of the house and things that need to be updated and sanded, primed and repainted, but Patrick doesn't really want to do that and wouldn't it just be easier to move?

It would.

I will calm down eventually but today is not that day.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

What's that noise?

My hearing has apparently also been affected by this pregnancy (along with my feet, which pretty much all the time feel like two giant throbbing pieces of meat), or maybe it's just my common sense, because twice now I have thought I was going crazy based on something I heard.

One morning I started my car and after hearing an unusual noise, totally panicked. I thought, "Oh my god, why does my car sound like a lawnmower?" I turned the car off, and discovered that what I was hearing was an actual lawnmower. My neighbor was mowing his lawn.

Then one night I was getting ready to leave work, and I started my car, and I thought, "Whoa, what's that scraping noise?" I sat and listened and grew panicky, and then I looked around: the scraping noise was the sound of the hundred year old man who works in my building pushing his walker over to his beat up 1969 VW Beetle*.

And yesterday, limping down Santa Monica Blvd. to the theater, I kept thinking I heard someone calling my name. I wasn't walking fast enough to outpace anyone, and I kept checking behind me, but nope, nobody. Oh, well.

*Totally guessing on the year. It's either brown or rust-colored, and the back seat appears to be full of newspapers. Still, this guy shows up to work every day and leaves at the same time I do, and I hope when I'm a hundred years old I'm still doing something on a daily basis like that, though I would like that thing I'm doing to not be... going to work.