Pump free, and other business

I'm not sure how much I've said here up until now... I haven't been keeping a good blog, I guess, because I think of a lot of things to write about but then I just don't, or I don't remember. Oops! There are a few things to catch you up on!

Over the last couple of weeks, I've been ramping down (is that a phrase? I know you can ramp something up...) my pumping sessions at work. I went from 3 a day (for over a year), to 2, to 1... and this week? I'm at none. I was all excited when I walked out of the house this morning without my pump (and on Friday, when I washed all the pump parts and got them ready to be finally put away, probably forever), but then I walked past the lactation room on my way to the restroom, and I totally started to cry.

What the hell was that all about? I know that the timing is right, I know that my milk will not necessarily just "dry up," I know that I can continue to breastfeed at night and on the weekends and that lots of people do that just fine and that I can probably still meet my self-imposed 2 year goal, I know that I am a good mother, and that lots of people don't make it this long (not to make it sound like I think that people who don't breastfeed or pump at work are not good mothers! Not at all!)... but wow, it hit me surprisingly hard. I can tell this is going to be a long day. I didn't want to cry every time I passed by the restroom. Because that would be weird.

And then... I didn't write about this when it happened because I was freaked out about it for a long time. Only a couple of people know about it, actually. This is a long story, so I suggest you get comfortable.

On Thursday, May 3rd, I got home from flute choir a little later than usual. Patrick was in Jules' room, sitting in the chair, holding him. We just started this month getting him to sleep all night (or as much as possible) in his crib, but Patrick likes to hold him and rock him to sleep when I'm not home. I rushed in to take over: this quarter for flute choir, I haven't been able to leave work early so on Thursdays, I'm back to going to Culver City straight from work. It's a long day, and I miss my boy. When I picked him up, I could feel that he was really hot, so I removed the blanket Patrick had him snuggled up in, and sat down to feed him.

He was still pretty hot, so I took his temperature: 101.5. I took off his clothes and fed him in his diaper only. We gave him a little Tylenol, but it was late, I was tired, and I couldn't remember if I should give him one dropper-ful, or if he had graduated to 2, so I just gave him 1. Then he fell back asleep and we took him to bed with us. I checked his temperature every hour or so and it went down a little. It was 100.5, 100.3 at various times during the night, and I thought, well, that's high, but not super high... I didn't sleep that much.

At 2 he woke up, and I fed him again. His temp was still around 100. Patrick took him to the other room to rock him to sleep, and so I could get some sleep, too.

At 4, Patrick came back into the bedroom, and woke me up. He said that Jules was "staring" and he couldn't snap him out of it. I woke up right away, and said, "What do you mean, staring?" He was holding him and I could see that he was just sort of blankly staring, eyes wide, body kind of limp. He was still hot, at about 100.5. Patrick said he'd been like that for about 5 minutes. He sounded scared. Jules was also kind of breathing funny - I don't really know how to describe it. It was like a tiny hiccup.

I didn't know what to do, so I got a damp washcloth and wiped his face. I took off his little t-shirt. I held him myself. About 30 seconds or maybe a minute passed of us watching him, and then I said, "I think this is a seizure. I'm calling 911."

We didn't discuss it: I made the decision.

The 911 operator was awesome. She told me lay him down, and stop holding him. I put him on the couch, and in a few minutes, I felt him relax a little, and then he woke up, rolled over onto his tummy with his butt in the air, and he fell asleep. The paramedics got to our house in about 6 minutes. By now Jules was sleeping normally, and seemed comfy as can be on the couch. They checked him out and said that everything seemed to be fine. They asked if we wanted to go to the hospital, and I said no. He had an appointment with his pediatrician at 9:15 for his 15 month checkup - by this point, that was only 5 hours away. We gave him some more Tylenol and took him back to bed with us. Patrick seemed to fall asleep, but I didn't, not for a while.

At 6:30, Jules woke me up as usual, by climbing all over me. He was perfectly normal, his usual happy self in the morning, laughing and playing. Patrick was getting ready for work. We were both exhausted. I fed him, and we got up to eat some breakfast and get ready for the doctor. He was a little whinier than usual but he didn't have much of a fever (about 99), and I let him pretty much do whatever he wanted: play, eat, whatever. By 8:30 we left for Kaiser.

Once there, I told the nurse all about our night; I thought that might get the doctor in to see us quicker, but it didn't, really. Once she finally came to see us and I told her my story, she was great. I didn't cry when it was happening but after she told me that these types of seizures are mostly harmless and very common, I kind of lost it. She was so nice, and told me that though in the future, we will have to be very careful when he gets a fever, most likely he will suffer no consequences. We did all the right things, and obviously he was fine now. She said that he was developing great, and was clearly a healthy, happy boy. And I cried through all of this. She instructed me to continue giving him Tylenol every 4 hours for 2 days (2 droppers!), and to keep an eye on his temperature. If he still had a fever on Monday, I was to call right away. She said she saw no signs of any infection or other problems. I wondered if maybe he was teething, but she wasn't sure.

I didn't want my parents to worry, and I had a date with some friends that night (my sister was going to babysit), so I decided to keep my plans. I felt a little weird about it... Patrick's band had a gig that night and I hate to be home all day and night by myself, so I told my mom that Jules was a little sick, and headed up to Culver City anyway. He seemed to enjoy his visit, and when my sister got home, I told her what had happened. The timing was perfect: I gave him his Tylenol before I had to leave to meet my friends. I checked in with her while I was gone, and she said he was acting as he always does: playing with her and my parents, having a fun night. He was just a little hotter than usual.

It was good for me to go out, and I think too, that letting my sister take care of him that night was a good idea. He has so much fun with her.

We kept up all the Tylenol, and he was a pretty good sport about taking it. By 7 p.m. on Saturday night, he was totally fever free.

It's been a couple of weeks since then, and we're not exactly sure what caused the fever. I don't see any new teeth... and he's been fine. I check his temperature all the time, though.

Weaning from the Pump: Week 2

As of today, I have been back at work for exactly one year. Exton is 15-1/2 months old.

This is mostly what I'm thinking about today:
LLLI | Weaning from the Pump

As of two weeks ago, I was still pumping three times a day (my work day is 10 hours, and I'm away from home for a full 12... it's a long time to be gone). Last week, I cut down to 2. This week I'm cutting it down to once a day. Yesterday I came in to work late (the exciting weekend cut into my sleep) so I didn't take a break in the morning, but today I'm looking forward to taking a walk at 10. I hope the sun comes out.

A lot of people have indicated that they weaned from the pump and it in no way had a bad effect on their milk supply or their nursing relationship with their child. I hope it's the same for me! I also hope it doesn't mean Ex ups his night nursing again... I was just starting to get used to getting a little more sleep.

Checking in

The weekend was a big combination of highs and lows, none of which I'd like to describe, right here or right now. The one thing I will say is that JP had a pretty high fever and there was some scary stuff involved but now he's just fine, and I guess all I can do is chalk it up to a learning experience.

We went to Fatburger, and I had my usual Fatburger with cheese, relish, pickles, lettuce... and then I added a fried egg, and I will tell you that it was quite possibly the most decadent thing I've eaten in weeks. It was also delicious. Surprisingly, Patrick was pleased with his veggie burger (he never likes veggie burgers). And, JP loves French fries. Oops.

I had time for only one bike ride on Sunday, and though it was a beautiful day, it was so windy! But, almost everyone I saw smiled or waved at me, and one guy called me "baby" (as in "on your left, baby!"). I have to admit: I thought that was pretty cool.

Good news: this morning, every single pair of pants I own was too big.
Bad news: I really can't afford to replace all my pants right now.


I've been pretty swamped at work lately, and it's continuing into this week unfortunately, but I hope to get on top of everything by the end of the week. I have a couple deadlines coming up, one for a project I'm managing but not actively doing the work on, and another project that starts whether I'm ready or not. My part will be figuring out how to keep our employees informed and interested. Another project involves reviewing driver records of about 1,000 employees. I now know the California Vehicle Code numbers for a variety of offenses. Let's just say I'm not the only one around here to get a "cell phone" ticket. I'm no longer embarrassed by my stupidity; instead, I belong to club of wrong doers, and I have to admit: I think that's kind of cool, too.
 
(This is a joke. Sheesh.)
 
Right now I'm taking a break from doing my "How Am I Driving" related paperwork. I just processed one for an employee whose first name is Terence. I am truly a child of the 80s, because this quote instantly came to my mind.
 
"Name's Terence. Owns a pet shop. We'll see what happens."
- Iona, from Pretty in Pink
 
Remember Terence? How he asked Andie to tell Iona to "shake her tail feather"? and the awesome white suit Iona wore for her date with him? Annie Potts is a gorgeous woman, but what's up with the pearl bolero tie?

Don't you wish Iona was telling Andie:
"Andie, honey: lace is not your friend."

 
 

Changes

I don't know how to start this one other than by jumping right in, so here goes:

Since last week, my milk production at work has been waaaaay down. Since I came back to work, almost a year ago, I've pumped 3 times a day. I've gotten anywhere from 12-16 ounces a day (total). Yesterday, though I still pumped 3 times, I only got 5 ounces.

This scared the hell out of me.

This is the milk that JP needs to take to daycare, to drink when he's with his daddy, when I'm at flute choir.

Yesterday, I talked to my friend Teresa, who has a lot of knowledge about this topic (she works with nursing moms, and she also has an adorable 10 month old, and a teenager; she has experience!), and she helped me calm down.

I know that JP is getting older, and eating more "real food," and that just because I stop pumping during the day, that doesn't mean I will stop nursing him when I'm home. For some reason, though, I felt weird about it. I'm glad I talked to her because she reminded me that it's totally normal. So, over the next couple of weeks, I'm going to taper off at work.

On the one hand... my little man is growing up, and that makes me feel sad. I learned so much from that little baby, about my body, my abilities, and about him as an infant. Now that he's getting older I know I will learn even more.

On the other hand, I was so sick of pumping! It used up my breaks; when I went to training or meetings, I had to make sure there was a lactation room. I'll get to go for walks again, or take a nap in my car: these are good things. And I won't miss having to wash everything every night to make sure I have bottles and parts for the next day.

I called his daycare this morning and talked to the director. She's so nice - they take such good care of him there. They're going to start him out slowly, and I think today he's going to try drinking what the other kids are drinking (milk, I mean; they've been giving him a little juice and water for a few months). I hope he doesn't mind it.

Me + Glee = Confusion

I haven't watched Glee in a while (maybe since the first season) because I got too annoyed with those kids and that stupid teacher and his weird tiny girlfriend with the food issues, but yesterday, my friend Kate on Facebook (she lives in Arizona and so gets to watch everything like an hour before the rest of us) who is also my friend Adam's mother, posted that this week's episode was a tribute to Whitney Houston, and that she liked it.

Since this is the woman who, when I was in the 12th grade, unwittingly introduced me to my favorite book ever ("A Prayer for Owen Meany," which I found in her bathroom, and no, you weren't home at the time Kate, but that was a very long time ago, so please forgive me for losing your page; also, I am re-reading "Owen" [again] and my copy is currently in the bathroom: how's that for full circle, or something), I thought, "Okay, if Kate liked it, maybe I'll see what those Glee kids are up to with the Whitney Houston," and since JP hasn't been going to bed until 9, I watched about the first 20 minutes of it.

Now I have questions.

A) Where was the kid in the wheelchair?
B) What the hell happened to Quinn? Is she now the "kid in the wheelchair"?
C) Where did the dreadlock kid come from? I think that guy went to high school with me. Also... and I know this is mean, but that kid is weird looking. He was weird looking in 1990 and he's weird looking now. Sorry! But I don't see the appeal.
D) How come Finn isn't playing the drums anymore?
E) When did Kurt get so grown up and handsome!?

and the MOST important question of all:

F) WHAT THE FUCK, AUTOTUNE? I was really disappointed with how mechanical the kids' voices sounded. And you know what? It didn't make any of them sound good. Can't these people sing? (I don't think I can keep calling them "kids" because aren't some of them in their late 20s?) No seriously, I thought these people were good singers to begin with, so why treat them like... untalented people? I didn't get it, I don't get it, I don't want to get it.

In other news, I was going to try to take JP with me to a La Leche League meeting tonight (I've been wanting to go but we were sick for the last two months, in case you don't remember, and I didn't want to expose a bunch of nursing moms with their little babies to THE COUGH), but then I saw that the kids (actual kids) on American Idol are doing all Queen songs tonight, and now my interest is peaked. I'm sure some of them will ruin those classic songs but I have an undeniable urge to see Phillip Phillips sing "Another One Bites the Dust" or "Don't Stop Me Now" or the totally ridiculous "Radio Ga Ga." And if nobody sings "Who Wants To Live Forever," I will give you a dollar!

My name is Irene. (Public Practice)

Hey, they told us to "dress casual."

Saturday, I did my one hour of "Public Practice" at the Music Center. It was fun, and truly a real practice session for me (I know it was "real" because by the time I'd been playing for 54 minutes, I got bored. I know, I know, I'm a horrible person. Look, sometimes I really get into it. Sometimes I don't).

My brother and his partner Joe accompanied me and Exton, and that part was awesome. I picked them up, and since I've never been to their house in Los Feliz (Silverlake? I always get confused), I was a little nervous about finding it. In fact, I've done very little driving in that area, so it was kind of exciting for me to be making that big crazy right turn from Sunset onto Fountain (also, my stupid driving directions had me make a left off of Rampart onto Sunset! Talk about exciting!). But, the drive down there was fun; Ex stayed awake most of the time, and at one point while we were cruising along, listening to "Stairway to Heaven" on the radio, I swear he was singing along with me.

Because I had no idea how long it would take me to get there to pick them up and then get us back to the Music Center, I kind of overestimated. We were about an hour early. We took the baby in the stroller over to the Cathedral, and poked around there. We took Exton out to the courtyard, where I nursed him a little (fully covered; Dan and Joe wandered off while this was happening, and no one was around). He's really cutting his nursing sessions short (I think he's starting to wean? More on this later), so it wasn't a big deal. Then we took him over to the little garden area with the sculptures. Ex loved the big sheep, and got in the whale with my brother Dan. After awhile, we walked back to the check in booth at the Music Center for the Private Practice participants.

Exton: "Woof?"
Dog: [Nothing]

Anyone else reminded of that 80s song

"Belly of the Whale"?

Unfortunately I can't remember the names of all the people I encountered with Public Practice (only Richard, the guy who moved me midway through my session to another location. He was cool), but they were all super nice, and it was a fun experience. It was kind of noisy - there was a lot of street traffic (i.e., buses), and for some reason a lot of helicopters, but the echo I got off the side of the building was nice for my sound. I started out on what I think is the south side of the Ahmanson (on Grand).

I did my scales, and the loop pattern, but decided against doing too many long tones. I got out the Faure Fantasie for flute and piano. I played this in high school, which was sort of going against the rules of "playing something new." All week whenever I got a chance, I looked through my music collection for something new to try out there, and I just couldn't find anything I wanted to play. I even sat down with my big book of Bach sonatas (of which I've played... two), but all that did was convince me that I am right not to like playing Bach. So instead, being pretty rusty on this one, I decided to just go with it. The Faure is so pretty, and I can count a lot better now than I did in high school, so I think it was OK. As usual, when I am under practiced, I encountered the same issue I always encounter, which is that my fingers are just not up to speed. That was kind of a bummer, and I spent a lot of time working on that - the music has lots of passages where there's high F#'s to Gs, and that's mostly the problem area. It's fun, too, to replay measures over and over, to hear them getting better, or faster, or whatever you're looking to improve.

Dan, Joe, and Ex hung out on some benches in front of me, and they had a good time, I think. Ex is eating a lot more solids now, and so he had a turkey sandwich and half a peanut butter and jelly wrap that I brought for him. I think Dan and Joe got a kick out of playing with him. He's a great baby, really fun. He seemed to like my playing, and they walked him around to see what else was going on.

At 7, Richard came to help me move to another space just on the other side of the building (the Hope St. side). By this time there were a lot of people walking around getting dinner, there to see "American Idiot" and whatever else was happening at the Music Center. No one really stopped and listened to me, but that's fine, I think it would've embarrassed me. I was "only" practicing. At around 7, it was starting to get cold, and there was a street musician, a sax player (I don't think he was there for Public Practice!) pretty near to me, and he was a little loud... it was hard to concentrate. He was also pretty darn good, so I felt weird.

I got a cool sign to take home (I think I'll put it in my cubicle at work), and overall, it was a fun experience. I'd do it again.  

Afterwards, I filled out a little questionnaire, got a refund for my parking fees (sweet!), and took Dan, Joe and Ex to Brite Spot for dinner, where I had a pretty awesome steak ciabatta sandwich. Ex loved the restaurant, and bounced around to all the 80s hits (he likes the Cars, the Go-Gos, early Madonna, and Tommy Tutone as much as I do) that were playing on the stereo. He tried to talk to the group of people at the table behind us, but they ignored him. He wouldn't eat any of my sandwich, but he did enjoy the fruit cup I got instead of fries (he's really into cantaloupe and honeydew melon right now; also the blueberries). I took Dan and Joe home (Ex was out like a light practically before we even left the restaurant parking lot), got great directions from Joe for catching the freeway, and we were home by 10:00.

Feeding the baby in the Cathedral courtyard, getting ready to head back over to the Music Center.

Found it. Super early so we're checking out the Cathedral. Beautiful.

Looking for checkin area!

I'm taking a Faure Fantasy I last played in high school.

On my way to pick up my brother who is coming with me to Public Practice at the Music Center

Bike 2.0

If you've been coming here for awhile to read about my not very exciting life (thank you, thank you, thank you) you know that in 2009 or so I got all excited about getting a good bike. At the time, I bought a Specialized road bike, and it was pretty awesome, but, it turned out, too much bike for little ol' me.

I didn't get to ride it a lot (though I did go on some awesomely long rides with my friend Patty, most of which culminated at the Cheesecake Factory) and I wasn't super fast or anything, but I got in a few of my favorite things (night rides), and I got some use out of it. One thing that I learned from that red and black bike was that the best motivator is a fun, safe bike. And I just never felt that safe on it. I think, though the bike store dudes tried to tell me otherwise, that it was just a hair too big for me.

Anyway, as you all know, then I got pregnant, and then I had a baby, and I started thinking that that bike was just not mommy or kid friendly enough... so a couple of months ago, I placed an ad on Craigslist, and I sold it. It was pretty easy to see it go, so that's how I knew I had made a good decision.

Last week I replaced it.

My friend Kim recently bought a bike, and she told me about the deal she got on a "dent and scratch" model, so I headed to the bike store with my money in my hand, looking for a way to get everything I wanted (bike and bike trailer for Exton) for just $800. I thought it was pretty good timing that the bike store was having a sale, but it turned out that I got a better bike than the one I went in for, and got a great deal on both the slightly dented bike (it has one tiny dent in the frame that no one will notice) and brand new Burley Bee bike trailer. OK, so I spent a little more than $800, but that's with tax and a helmet for Exton thrown in, too. I was really, really happy with my purchase.

Here it is:

Pre-ride inspection. "You want me to GET IN there?"

I got a Trek FX 7.5 WSD. It's white, with light green lettering, which is a little more girlie than I would like (blue or gray would be my first color choices)... but the price was right, so I can be girlie. It's fun to ride, lightweight, easy to handle, and I feel like a million bucks on it. The trailer is cool, too - it adds some weight but that's fine, as the purpose of being on the bike is to get stronger and fitter. Exton is not so sure about it just yet but hopefully we will figure out a way to get him comfy in there. So far we've mostly gone on short rides (and he did fall asleep during one, which I call a success) but he seems to get a little scared, and he doesn't like the helmet very much yet. So we've been keeping his rides short. He loves to be dragged around the backyard in it, and bounced around, but he gets a little panicky on the street. Since I want this to be a good experience for him, I'm trying to get him used to it slowly.

On Tuesday we stayed home from work to take him to a library thing in the morning; Patrick stayed home with him for his afternoon nap so I could go for a longer ride on the riverbed by myself. I rode out about 6 miles on the riverbed, and turned around (so my ride was just about 12 miles. Math-y!). The San Gabriel Riverbed is really beautiful, with lots of things to look at (and the water isn't fluorescent green or orange or frothy, like it was when I was growing up in Culver City and would ride along La Ballona Creek to the beach or school), including El Dorado Park (where I took a little break). As I said on Facebook during my break, I was never very fast and I'm still not. I passed one guy, a heavyset guy on a single-speed cruiser wearing what looked like a 50 pound backpack. That said, I SMOKED him. I'm sure he's still reeling from eating my dust.

The bike needs a few accessories (kickstand, at Patrick's request; water bottle; computer so I know how far/fast/slow I'm going; headlight so I can go on my beloved night rides) but I'll get those eventually. I'd like a shorter pair of bike pants/shorts. I have a great pair of padded Shebeest capris but it would be great to get a little color on my legs this summer! I found a great skort online at REI but I'm not sure about the length. I never show my legs, and it's a little shorter than I'm used to. And, I think I'd maybe like some kind of "performance" t-shirt, though I sure don't need anything fancy like a jersey specifically made by cyclists. Just something to wick the perspiration away better than my ratty old Police t-shirt.

When I got home, Ex was napping with Patrick, so I hopped in the shower and washed away all the sweat, and got ready to be a mommy again. It's funny how a little thing like a bike ride can make you feel like you again.

Public Practice at the Music Center

A while ago, I received an invitation in the mail to participate in something called "Public Practice" downtown at the Music Center (outside, somewhere). It's supposed to be an opportunity for the public to see amateur musicians practicing - to appreciate the hard work those of us who don't get paid to perform do, out of love of playing (or whatever).
I signed up because it sounded cool by answering all these intrusive questions and I was accepted.

So to be clear: this is going to be me and a bunch of other people, practicing outside, somewhere on the music center grounds, in public.

Practicing.

It's not a gig, or a performance. People won't walk by and hear me performing some amazing Mozart that's obviously been worked up (as if I have time to do that!). I'm supposed to either just play scales or what have you, or pick a new piece to work on. It's only for an hour, and you'd be surprised how much practice time can be eaten up "just" by scales and long tones, so I'm probably going to devote a lot of my time to that. Also, my lack of practice shows the most in tone and fingers, so this is a good opportunity to do that. But it's not going to be exciting to listen to (unless you really want to hear me sitting on each note forever, in which case, you are the audience I want to have. Always!). I might pull out something new (Bach, maybe, there are ton of Bach sonatas that I am unfortunately unfamiliar with, and he's really hard).

My brother is going to come with me and wrangle Exton while I'm playing. Hopefully he enjoys hearing a bunch of weirdos practicing, too.

I don't know how many people are participating or how close to one another we will be, or (of course) the skill level of the other players, so this could either be really cool, or really excruciating.

I'm allowed to invite family and friends, so here's the info, below. You must be warned, however, and I can't stress enough, that this is strictly practice. I'll hopefully be able to hear myself play and evaluate my tone (during long tones), and I hopefully won't get all nervous and jack up the loop pattern or whatever scale exercise I'm doing. My practicing isn't always pretty (though I almost always through in the first five bars of the theme from "The A-Team" for fun while warming up). My practicing isn't that sophisticated either. Still. I think it will be a fun experience for me, and for anyone who wants to hear other people... practice.

Public Practice
Noon on Saturday, April 21 to noon on Sunday, April 22
My time slot: April 21, 6:30 p.m. -7:30 p.m.

I have no idea where I'm going to be, and I'm supposed to pack up about halfway through and go to another location, so good luck finding me, if you're coming for me specifically (thank you if you're even considering doing this). If you're not, I might try live tweeting it, if I have time to do that, or will of course just write about it after the fact. Oh, yes, of course you have that to look forward to!

Dear Co-Workers,

I can't promise anything, but you may see and/or hear me throw up today. It's embarrassing but, to quote a friend of mine who uses this phrase for just about anything, it is what it is. My apologies. I'm considering this my punishment for making fun of some of you for your crummy email signatures, your inability to cut a straight line, or just complaining about your loud phone calls with various collection agencies.

Very truly yours,
Irene

((Cough))

For the last two weeks, I've been walking around with this dumb cough. I used to get it every year, but when I was pregnant, apparently I was overwhelmingly healthy, because I didn't get sick that much. This year, the year after having my son, seems to be the year where my body is making up for lost time, because I've been sick more, had some age-related issues I never had before, and I've just felt funkier than usual.

Not this funky, though. Unfortunately.

Anyway, because I'm still breastfeeding the little guy, it limits my options. For instance, that cough medicine with codeine that I've been dreaming of? I can't take it.

The worst part isn't really the cough. I could handle coughing every once in awhile. But what happens to me is, I get hit with these horrible extended coughing fits that usually culminate with puking.

Yes. I said "puking." It's gross. And then afterwards I feel like I've been run over by a truck. So that's been going on, daily. Luckily when it happens at work, I've had opportunities to get to the bathroom. What I've been afraid of - it happening while I'm driving the car - hasn't happened. What I didn't know to be afraid of happened yesterday.

I haven't been sleeping that great. Mostly I lay there, wondering if I'm going to fall asleep, just to be awakened by my own coughing. Or what usually happens, it takes me awhile to fall asleep, and then just as I'm dozing off, Exton wakes up and wants a feeding. And then I cough.

So I finally got so frustrated that I stayed home from work yesterday, and I made an appointment with the doctor. The appointment was for the late morning, and while I was at home, I actually thought I was starting to feel better. Hardly any coughing. I got a late start leaving and I considered calling them and canceling the appointment, but I didn't.

On the walk up to the office, I started coughing a little. I got in line to check in, and saw that there was a a "self check-in" kiosk, so I thought that would be faster, so I tried it. But, my Kaiser card didn't work and I had to tap out my name, and while that was going on, my coughing escalated. I couldn't talk. It was really scary, actually, because I felt like all the people in the waiting room were watching/listening to me. A woman was sitting at a desk (separate from the check in desk) right in front of me, and I croaked out, in between coughs, "can I sit?" She had a chair next to her desk, facing away from the room. I sat down and coughed. And coughed.

And coughed.

And then I puked. All over my shirt, and my jeans, and I was so embarrassed. I haven't thrown up in public in years (and I was probably drunk and in my 20s when that happened so what did I care?), and I just felt so gross and dirty.

The woman at the desk was so nice. She helped me clean up. I kept apologizing in my tiny voice, and she kept telling me it was OK. She even said, "This is a medical facility. I've seen much worse." It was weird, though, because my shirt just looked wet, not, puked on (but the inside was... messy). Then she offered to check me in, and she found out that my appointment was next door, which I was actually relieved about. I really wanted to get away from that roomful of people.

I walked around the corner to the right room, where I saw a woman who is not my regular doctor (which is good, because my regular doctor is a man). She took me right away, which is good too, because as soon as I was alone in the room with her, I lost it. I just started crying. I mean, damn, it was just some vomit, no big deal, but I was sooooo embarrassed. She was also really nice (though, it must be said: not as nice as cute Dr. Reid would've been, I'm sure; then again, I don't think I want to see him while wearing a puked-on shirt). It was a good day for Kaiser doctors.

Anyway, she took her time with me and checked me out, and I'm fine. She recommended that I keep using my nasal spray allergy medicine (which I lost somewhere, somehow... I have to take a better look for it), and she gave me an inhaler to use when the coughing gets really bad. She said it will probably be a little longer until the cough is gone but because I'm breastfeeding, it's harder to treat. She said I didn't have any kind of infection. Just a cough.

Cough.

Which Led Zeppelin song is that from? In My Time of Dying? Gonna go have a listen. You should too.

((Cough))

Dear LA Classic Rock Stations,

It is not necessary to continue playing the Doors. Yes, they were from here. Yes, they were a great band. But I have heard every single Doors song enough to last me for the rest of my life. Give it a rest already. You know what they say: absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Thanks,
Irene

P.S. Except "Peace Frog." I like that one.

Detail: vagary: detail: detail: curse word: detail: non-sequitur.

I spent my morning running around, meeting with people I already met with, sending emails about topics I'd already sent emails about to people who said they would do something but who neglected to inform me that they would be involving other people... who didn't do the something that I asked the first person to do.

Yesterday afternoon, I got an email from an executive who's been working on the Wellness Fair I have been largely responsible for bringing to to my deparment. Does that sentence look right to you? It looks wrong. Anyway, when we were in the inital stages of planning, I met with the guy in charge of the building in which we want to have the fair. It's here at my work location but a bit of a jog up a hill, about a 10 minute walk away. Also in the meeting was a woman from [somewhere else] who has done this many, many times before. In fact, the guy we were meeting with is the guy she works with on her other events, at other departments. They know each other well enough that they hugged before our meeting. So we went over all the things we needed to go over; mainly, that due to possible funky weather in March, she wanted to hold the event inside his building. Not a problem, he said: we can just move all this [junk] out! Can we get parking, she asked? Sure! He said.

It was a great meeting, congenial, fun, eye opening. Then came the email from yesterday afternoon, which said that the cool dude I met before was estimating that in order to move the [junk] from his building, it was going to cost "$4000 to $6000." Apparently this exceeds the budget by about $3000 to $5000.

All fuckin' hell broke loose. Suddenly there were about 5 more loose ends. People were having selective memory loss (though luckily I have a ton of emails to back up any "he said, she said" type situations). People who were supposed to be informed, weren't.

I'm not sure that any of this was my fault. Way back at the beginning of this little adventure, I received permission for all the planning this would require from my boss's boss, and his boss (in writing, in an email). In that email, he instructed the lady who is doing most of the forgetting to help me out. Still, it was really nerve racking, because there was no way we were going to be able to pay that (insane) amount.

This morning, the woman who plans these events and I went up to talk to the first guy again. He explained about talking to the woman who forgot things, and he explained that dollar amount (which, face to face, suddenly was much, much lower). He also said it might be hard because his crew has about 4 jobs already scheduled for the date of our event (which he's known about for about a month; he never mentioned any of this before). He's a sweet man but he likes drama, I think. During our meeting, the woman and I kept giving each other the "panicked" face. Hers is good. I've never seen mine but I can imagine what it looks like. We straightened out what we could straighten out without the higher ups (who were all in the same executive meeting; of course they were), and then I went down to talk to my boss's boss's secretary to see if I could see or talk to him sometime today.

He seems like a nice guy and for a long time I really liked him and had no problem talking to him. But my boss has said a few things that have worried me in the past, and I've done that thing I try not to do, which is to let someone else change the way I feel about somebody, even though my experiences have all been pretty much positive. Now he makes me insanely nervous. I asked his secretary if he might have 10 minutes to talk to me, and she put me on his schedule for 3:30, but when I got back to my desk, he called me within about 15 minutes. I was surprised. I explained everything to him, and apologized for bothering him. He made a few calls and then called me back in about 10 minutes with a solution (we will do whatever it takes, pay whatever it takes, make whatever effort necessary to have this event take place). He sent out an email to all the players, and reminded them that they need to work with me and the other woman to get this thing going, no matter what. I think I'm just going to go back to the original way I felt about him, and let her issues with him be her own baggage. Having nerves with someone like him is acceptable but I have no reason not to trust him, so I'm just going to trust him.

I felt much better afterwards but even more so after I went to Chipotle for a big-ass burrito. Did you know they have brown rice now, and that if you ask them, they will make your burrito with 50% brown and 50% white rice? It's a good day to find that out.

Dumbest, funnest song ever

This morning on my way to work, I heard Van Halen's song "Panama" (it came on right after Missing Person's song "Mental Hopscotch," so you know I was listening to Jack FM), and I had a brilliant idea:

Somebody needs to arrange that song for flute choir. I've had this idea in my head forever that it would be cool to try to set up a (totally goofy) one-man band type thing - a flutist could play bass drum and maybe do some other things with the left foot... but the idea of a full-on flute choir playing "Panama," one of the, let's face it, stupidest songs ever written (what does "Panama!" even refer to? It's a love song? About a girl? About a car? A car called "Panama"? What?! The lyrics make no sense) cracks me up. It could be amazing. I mean, I'm certainly not the biggest Van Halen fan in the world, but their music is fun and silly and I was driving down the 710 when I heard this flute choir thing in my head... I mean, I'm not an arranger or composer, and my skills in that arena are zero, but here are my ideas (I'm getting this in writing in case someone else steals my mojo):

The melody (David Lee Roths's vocals) should be a full-on section -- at least 4 flutists, mostly in unison (though I think his voice is at least doubled, so there are probably some opportunities for some harmonies). They also get that cool "Panama!" part in the middle where the solo is ending.

The bass line is pretty monotonous but bass flutists are, I think, pretty used to that (sorry, guys). They're not all footballs, anyway, there are some eight notes and counting involved. I just looked at this and I have no idea what the weird numbers over the notes mean, but at least they get a solo in bar 74, and there's a little rhythm going on.

The cool part (which I, of course, envision myself playing) is the solo guitar line. Wow! I've never tried to listen and learn a rock and roll guitar line on flute (I can do this with some things but I was better at it when I was younger and had more time to fool around on my flute), but I think it might be really fun. The harmonic sections (if that's even what what he's doing is called? I am not up on my guitar terminology) would be AWESOME. I mean, Eddie is kind of a genius on guitar but I think that stuff is doable? (uh... I think) on flute. It should be a solo, except for the parts that clearly will require a secondary flutist to provide some harmonies, and maybe a little duet in there too.

The rhythm guitar parts could be covered by a couple of other flutists; there are chords and harmonies that would need to be in there, too, to keep it interesting.

But see, here's the best part: the person playing the guitar line could also sit there and play bass drum with their right foot. The bass drum part appears to be mostly one quarter note per beat a lot of the time, and I mean, come on, if you can read music, playing that part shouldn't be too hard... right? AND there's that little bit of double bass drum at the end... that could be TOTALLY RAD. It's not listed on the drum tablature I just looked at (at least, I don't think so), so maybe my ears are mistaken... but come on! You know that would be fun to see.

Wouldn't it?

Dr. Reid

I went to the doctor today, because I have been having a little pain in the breast that I surgery on last year. Oh, I guess I should warn you that this is going to be full of lots of personal details, so if you don't like that, I suggest you go look up stereo equipment on Craigslist. Just a little tip to you, from me.

I was concerned, because I know that what I had last year, can reoccur, especially since my breasts have been really tender lately when Exton nurses. I also know that tenderness can happen before your period starts, but I've only gotten it once since he was born, so how do I know? I got my period in January (the first one since having my baby, almost a full year later), and it was weird (oh, I will spare you the details, fine!). I didn't get it in February. And that time right before I got my surgery was horrible and having an infection sucked. I decided not to mess around, so I called this morning at 7 a.m. and made an appointment with Dr. Reid. Dr. Reid was not my doctor when this all happened last year; I think he would've taken care of me better, but that story is over, and it is what it is.

Dr. Reid is youngish, kind, respectful, funny and handsome, and I like him a lot. Well, I don't know, he's a little goofy, but in a good way, and anyway, in case you haven't noticed, that's kind of my "type." He's very easy to talk to. When I take Ex with me, he is very sweet to him. He asked me if I wanted to have a mammogram, even though the guidelines for mammograms indicates that women don't need to have them until age 50. I've already had one because a few years ago, my OB thought she felt a lump during the breast exam (another thing I guess they don't do anymore); that turned out okay, even though I ended up having to do it twice because the geniuses at Kaiser lost my film. I certainly don't want to have a mammogram while I'm breastfeeding, so he said he'd order it but only if I wean the baby in the next three months, otherwise it's okay to wait. He laughed when I said I didn't think that was going to happen. Honestly, for all their pro-breastfeeding propaganda, I don't think the Kaiser doctors see a lot of women who continue to nurse after the first year. He's cool about it, and way more informed than a lot of doctors, though, so that's fine.

I told him everything I've written here plus the details you have been spared, and then, while he went out to get a female nurse chaperon so he could examine me, I put on some lip gloss. Which is silly and ridiculous but it's what I did, so I guess I'm silly and ridiculous. News flash. The nurse was nice too, and because Dr. Reid is young, and kind, and funny, and respectful and goofy/handsome, halfway through the exam I almost started cracking up like a 15 year old. Except, as a 15 year old I probably had more sense. And my breasts were smaller.  Anyway, he didn't feel anything (except my BOOB, and I of course avoided eye contact with him while this was happening or else I really would have laughed; I talked to the nurse, who laughed at my jokes. Oh yeah, I make jokes during a breast examination, because if you don't, that's when they find a lump. You didn't know that? Well, they were lame jokes, but still) or suspect an infection, so after he left so I could get dressed and then came back again, he gave me a prescription for higher strength Aleve, talked about some other minor things I wanted to talk about (related to my visit, of course), and sent me on my way.

I had my giggle after he finally left for good, though I don't know exactly what it was about the situation that struck me so funny. He told me to call him if I have any symptoms of an infection. I feel better now. I'm glad it was nothing.

Test 2

Testing

Skincare

A few months ago, I got a facial at my favorite little day spa, Studio Cie Wellness Spa in Long Beach. I've been going there for awhile, and whenever I can afford it and get a little time to myself, I love to go and get a facial or a massage (during my pregnancy, I got a prenatal massage all the time. I highly recommend prenatal massages! My massage therapist, Sarah, did an amazing job keeping me comfortable. I've been back a few times for relaxation massages with Sarah, but not as often as I'd like. And, she gave us a wonderful one-on-one infant massage class that I really enjoyed. I think Exton did too). All the staff at Studio Cie are wonderful - they treat me like a friend, and the service is perfect.

I've always enjoyed facials and pampering (who doesn't?) and because my skin is kind of dry, sensitive, and prone to bouts of eczema, I've had a few extra issues aside from the scourge of occasional adult acne to deal with. Nothing major, though, and thankfully, aside from some bagginess and dark circles under my eyes (I think we can blame genetics and my baby for that), I seem to be slow on the path to wrinkle (thank god!); though my most recent eczema flare up occurred on my neck, and I think I would trade a few crow's feet for the yucky neck that gave me. I hope it's temporary.

Anyway, now that I'm 40 I'm trying to take my skincare a little more seriously. Thanks to the baby, I've increased my water consumption (breastfeeding is hard work), and I think that's helping a little, too. At that last facial appointment, the aesthetician recommended a new product for me, which I misplaced for awhile, and recently found and started using regularly. I thought I'd write about my experience with it, and some of the other skincare products I've been using lately. I don't really wear makeup, except for the lip gloss when I remember to use it (usually it's just Aquaphor Lip Repair, or this stuff), so I can't really talk about that (for awhile I was wearing Bare Minerals and I really liked it; I just don't have the time to do it now. I liked it because I didn't feel like I was wearing any makeup, which is key for me. It has to be very, very subtle for me to be comfortable, and the stuff I was using was exactly that). I know it can only take 5 minutes to apply the small amount of makeup I would wear, but my morning schedule can't spare 5 minutes. I'm lucky not to be late more often than I already am. And, I would rather sleep and cuddle my baby than be putting on lipstick. I'm sure more talented people than me can manage it, but I just don't care that much about it.

Repechage Essential Oil of Seaweed
This is the product that was recommended to me for my problem areas (eyes and around my mouth) and I'm now addicted to it. It comes in a tiny little bottle, but because you don't need to use very much, it's lasted a long time. I use it as directed (eyes, mouth area) but also on the aforementioned dry skin on my neck. It makes my skin feel silky and it looks smoother and less irritated. It's a little expensive, and sort of feels like a "luxury" product for me, but this stuff totally works.

NovAurora Organic Skin Care
After I had my baby, I had a lot of funky skin issues. Some of this was caused by an infection in my breast (mastitis, pretty nasty) that required surgery. I'm not sure that my doctor ever confirmed this, but I feel that infection caused me to have itchy, red skin (my whole body was affected; I literally looked like a tomato). My doctor prescribed hydrocortisone and Aveeno products, but because I suddenly understood that every product I applied to my body or ingested by mouth would be somehow transferred to my baby (and because I was operating on very little sleep and therefore not 100% rational), I was overly cautious about Johnson & Johnson products and a little freaked out about reports I read about cancer-causing ingredients, especially for the baby. I used the hydrocortisone sparingly, too (which I guess was a total overreaction on my part. I think it would've been OK for the baby to be exposed to it, at least once he hit 6 months). I've never been much impressed by Aveeno. I felt like their products sat on my skin, weren't absorbed very well, and I found them to smell a little...unappealing. And the anti-itch properties they were supposed to have just weren't that impressive to me.

At around the same time, a friend of mine from City Garage started posting on Facebook about her mother's skin care line, NovAurora. I checked it out online, wrote to my friend's mom about some specific problems I was having, and tried some of the products. Again: I fell in love and I'm now addicted to these products. I use the Hand and Body lotion, Soap-Free Cleanser and Skin Smoother, Rejuvenating Face and Eye Cream, Repairing and Toning Lotion, and Jojoba Oil. I like that these products are organic and cruelty free, but I also like that they have zero scent. And being organic makes me feel better, too. Go to the website and read about this company: there's a lot of information there that I can't do justice to. The products have a very nice quality to them - I use the Hand and Body lotion daily, and everywhere. It absorbs perfectly and leaves my skin extremely soft. I feel so confident about this product that I use it on my baby after every bath, and he loves it (okay, maybe he just loves playing with the bottle). In the past, even expensive skin care products (Murad, Dermalogica, etc.) have not been gentle enough to use in my eye area; the Repairing and Toning Lotion is not only gentle and safe for that area, it also addresses my dark circles and puffiness. Let's face it: I don't have a lot of time in the morning to be super careful about not getting stuff in my eyes, but with this product, I don't have to be. I do feel that it is helping me with that problem, too.

I bought the Jojoba on a whim, to try on my dry elbows, and it works great for dry skin, but recently I've started using it on my hair, too. When I cut my hair short in October, I was using the Aveda product that my stylist recommended. I love Aveda products, and this one was really nice (it was Light Elements Texturizing Creme), but because I don't always have the luxury of taking a shower every morning (darn baby! No, actually, our morning routine is easier now that he's getting older), I felt like it was too heavy to use every day. Also, Aveda products are way scented; even if it's natural, sometimes the smell gets a little overwhelming for me. Just a tiny amount of Jojoba in my hair makes it shiny and gives it a little definition without being too sticky or stinky.

Jan Marini Antioxidant Daily Face Protectant
I hate wearing sunscreen. Whatever weird seasonal allergies I'm having, sunscreen always makes it worse. The stuff makes my eyes run. It makes my face itch. I hate it. However, this product does none of that. I can slather it on and I feel nothing, yet I can feel confident knowing that I'm getting SPF 30.

Cerave Moisturizing Cream
Finally my dermatologist recommended something other than Aveeno for my problem skin. At my last appointment, she said that she went to a conference and all the dermatologists there were raving about this stuff. I really like it. I use it after I get out of the shower. Strangely, my eczema has shown up in weird (for me) areas: I used to only get it on the inside of my elbows , but these days it shows up more random areas: my wrist, my neck, my forearms, my right little finger. This stuff helps combat that and is really emollient without being too thick or greasy. It's smooth, and a little goes a long way. I've used that heavy Eucerin cream that feels like paste, and this stuff is nothing like that. It really relieves any itch, and makes red, ugly skin feel and look calm again.

Anyway, there you go. I'm not getting paid for any of these testimonials, I just thought somewhere, someone (some lonely someone...) might be interested. I'm really a pretty low-maintenance kind of gal; I'm pretty natural without being all crunchy-granola about it. I'm trying to be better about choosing products that are eco-friendly, or cruelty-free, but it's most important that they be safe.

Dancing with the stars

The latest cast of "Dancing with the Stars" was announced today, and I guess there's a lot of talk going around about the quality of "star" they've lined up. I think this talk happens every time they announce the lineup. I do have to say that I was so pleased to learn that Melissa Gilbert was going to be on this season. I love her. She's a natural. Half Pint!

I have no idea what criterea the DWTS people look for when casting the show (a pulse?) but here's my fantasy list:

1. Stewart Copeland. Did you really think I was going to lead off with anyone else? Look, he's dreamy, sure, but he also a) is fit (all that drumming/cycling/polo is good for something), and b) possesses a sharp wit that would make him fun for TV. The guy's a charmer, I'm telling you. He'd be a great fit with that feisty Russian chick.
2. Elisabeth Shue. It only makes sense - the Karate Kid, Ralph Macchio, was on last season (looking almost creepily the same age as he was in the 80s). I think they screwed up by not casting her then. She's still beautiful. My only reservation about her is, she might be too busy. She could be too good for this show.
3. Mark Hamill. Two words: Luke Fucking Skywalker. Wait, is that three words?
4. Kathy Griffin. One of the few places where Kathy might be a bigger star than some of the other people who have appeared on this show.
5. Paula Poundstone. I know, I know, two comediennes on the same show could be a disaster, BUT, Paula has been lobbying (weakly, I think, but still) on her Twitter and Facebook pages. And she's so funny. I don't think that she would have the same experience as Kathy Griffin, who (it seems to me) is way more comfortable being glam.
6. Mia Sara. She played Ferris' beautiful girlfriend in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." I don't know what she's been up to lately (Wikipedia has her in a TV pilot and a miniseries but I didn't do that much research). She probably could use the attention, don't you think?
7. Ron Cey, Steve Garvey, Steve Sax, Mike Scoscia, etc. Get some old school Dodger Blue out there.
8. Tony Dow. Wait, is Tony Dow dead? No, no, he's not dead. Did you know he was a sculptor now? He might be too cool for Dancing with the Stars.
9. Any of the Cosby kids, except Raven-Symone. Or Claire; she'd probably be the best of all of them.
10. C. Thomas Howell. One word: PONYBOY.
11. Cybil Shepherd. I bet she still has great legs.
12. Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto. Would he be clueless? Maybe. Would it be awesome? Probably.

Well, I could go on, but why?

Don't get mad.

On Saturday, I went to Culver City to take the baby for a visit. On our way home, we took the same route to the freeway we always do, down Laura Love's grandparents' street (they don't live there anymore, but that's how I've always thought of that street. Believe it or not, we used to climb the trees in front of their house. I know, I don't seem like the tree-climbing type, do I). I came to a 4-way stop, and a guy driving a truck did too. He was going in the opposite direction, heading back toward my mom and dad's street. He had reddish hair and was wearing a baseball cap.

We both stopped, and then I pulled out into the intersection. That's when I guess he realized that he wanted to turn left, so he did.

He didn't hit me or anything; I stopped about 2 feet into the intersection, and he had plenty of room. I, however, acted as if he had committed a felony. I didn't give him the finger, though I might've shaken my fist at him (which is worse?). And I suppose my face looked mad (and it's possible he could read my lips), because he said, through his open window, "Don't get mad [indecipherable]!" I'm hoping that the word I couldn't hear wasn't "bitch."

I got all embarrassed, and then I thought, jeez, JP is sleeping through this now, but what about when he's 5? 10? I need to control myself a little better. Even though that guy was totally a jerk, my reaction wasn't exactly the greatest, either. It wasn't the end of the world or anything. Next time I hope I let it just slide.

However. God gave you that blinker for a reason, my friend. Use it.

IT Guys: they're not all like Patrick

I just had two strange encounters with two separate IT guys in the space of about 10 minutes.

One came to work on my co-worker's computer. She came to work this morning but left even before I got here, sick. He was here to because "she has an open ticket." He said he'd been calling her all day but she wasn't answering. I said, "Oh, she went home sick today." If someone's not answering their phone, what does he think happened to them? Then he asked me: "Was she here yesterday?" I said No. "Was she here the day before yesterday?" I said, No. Then he said, "Was she here Monday?" I said, "Look, she's not here. Do you know what she needed to have done?" He said, "She just said that her computer is running slow." I said, "Well, I don't know anything about her computer. Can you look at it without her being here, or do you need to come back?" He said, "I don't know what she wants done."

(NOTE TO COMPUTER TECHNICIANS: Usually I don't stick up for this particular co-worker when it comes to problems with her computer because I know that she causes a lot of the trouble herself, what with her sloppy clicking and disorganized files and sheer laziness about learning something new (or remembering something old). However. When someome complains that their machine is running slow, it's not that hard to figure out what they want you to do: THEY WANT YOU TO MAKE IT RUN FASTER.)

Anyway, that conversation ended with me rolling my eyes, and him leaving (possibly not in that order).

Not five minutes later, another IT dude I've never seen before entered my office. He was making a bunch of noise out in the hall, talking to someone. I guess he was looking for me. I didn't hear what they were saying.

He comes in, and says he's looking for a Safety video. I am the Keeper of the Safety Videos. I said, "OK, which one do you want?"

The rest of our conversation was kind of boring (though at one point he was kind of insistent that the date today is the 3rd, but no, the big ass calendar right there on the wall confirms that today is indeed the 2nd); we were just discussing the videos and how long they are, and then, right when he was sitting there, I emailed him the list of all the videos we have and he commented on how fast I can type, etc. Then he got up to leave, and he says to me, "How do I get back to the bottom of the center of the building?"

I said, "What?"

The bottom of the center of the building. Hmm. That must be where we make the donut holes. I mean, what?

My office is on the 2nd floor. There is one hallway - once you get off the elevator, if you go left, you will hit a locked door, which has a sign on it that says "Executive Offices." If you go the other way, you go down a long, not very well lit hallway. There's a door to the stairwell at the end. My office is somewhere between the elevator and the stairwell. Clearly marked with a sign on the door and everything. When it's time to leave, it's fairly simple to find the elevator: you just go back the way you came. He wasn't sitting with me long enough to forget that, was he? Did he sustain a head injury while we were talking? As far as I know, he didn't black out or have a stroke. He appeared sane enough (except for that confusion about the date).

Then I said, "Oh. Open the door. Turn right. Go down the hall and take the elevator to the first floor..." and then he left. Man, I hope he made it downstairs okay.

Viva la Village Parisien!

Twenty-odd years ago I was taken by an incredibly generous family (the parents of my then-fiance) to France. It was an awesome trip, and I had a wonderful time. Those people were so sweet to me. It was the furthest from home I'd ever been, my first time out of the country (I'd never even been to Tijuana), my first time on a plane!

Our trip started with a stay at Eurodisney. This might seem strange, but it wasn't: it made perfect sense... to them, and since they were paying for everything, I assumed they knew what they were doing. They'd been there and done all this before. We stayed one night at Village Parisien in a cabin.

I remember very little about this part of the trip. The cabin was pretty small. We were in the woods, sort of. I may have had some jet lag going on. I remember checking in with the Eurodisney people and being totally charmed by their French accents. Some of the people we met at Eurodisney were not French but the ones who were alleviated that old "French people are rude" rumor I'd heard, right off the bat. Yeah, I know: working for Disney, there must be some high standards, but it was a nice introduction to the people.

I remember being excited, and anxious. It was weird being in another country. I was kind of young, kind of naive. That night even though I think we were all not very sleepy (and it didn't get dark until about 10:30 pm, which was also... strange), we did everything at the "correct" time. I slept badly.

I had a bad dream. I remember the dream quite clearly:

I was in a fancy hotel, the likes of which we did not stay on that trip. My fiance and I went on lots of road trips but we almost always, with one exception, stayed in cheap-ass hotels. The weekend of the Northridge Earthquake, we had splurged on a room at the Westin St. Francis, where I had my first (and last) martini, but I can't remember if the trip to France was before or after the trip to San Francisco. We were probably a little scruffy for the St. Francis. Anyway, my dream:

I was in a fancy hotel. I got a call to come to the front desk, that there was a message or a telephone call for me. The front desk had lots of gold and red velvet and dark wood. That's how I knew it was "fancy," I guess. I picked up a phone on the desk. The person on the line was my brother, Andy. He was calling to tell me that my mom had passed away.

At that time in real life, my mom was perfectly healthy. There was no cancer, no nothing. I've had dreams about family members dying before, and they always freak me out; this one did, too, of course, but it was the first time I'd had it away from home.

I woke up all freaked out, and woke up my fiance. I might have been crying. It was scary - and he was nice about it. He took me somewhere to call my family, where I found out that of course my mother was fine, everyone was fine, and then we returned to the cabin, where his mom was making us breakfast.

Seriously: these were nice, decent people. I'm sure the dream was triggered by my anxiety about being somewhere new, on a big trip with important people in my life. Afterwards, I tried to forget about it and have a good time, and oh, DID WE. They took us to Normandy, where we stayed in a gite (a private home that we rented) in the countryside. It was beautiful. We drove around France in a rented car - I think it was an Audi. Then we went to Paris, where we stayed in another home, but this one was smaller, and in the suburbs. The food we ate! The things we saw! It was a grand trip.

Last night I had the same sort of dream, but this time, instead of being in a fancy hotel where I got the bad news, I was at that Eurodisney campground. I haven't thought about that place in years.

And so the countdown begins:

In exactly 9 days, I will reach a dubious pinnacle of achievement:

I will turn 40.

In all honesty, I was a lot more freaked out about turning 30. This time around, well, it's just a number. Lots of people I admire are way, waaaaay older than me. And they always will be.

Nyah nyah nyah.

The most interesting man in the world

This morning, Exton woke up at 3 a.m. Well, I'm not sure if he was exactly awake. Is it possible to sleep-play? I'm not sure if his eyes were fully open because mine were not. I have no idea what he was doing. Having a growth spurt? Exercising his lungs? Trying to walk?

Since we are still co-sleeping (and night-nursing! I thought we might be ready to start tapering that off, but he was sick for two weeks earlier this month, and I feel like the little guy needs fattening up; that means, if he's hungry at 12:30, 3:30 and 5:30.. I'm going to feed him), and he and I are on one side of the bed, with Patrick and Franny on the other (though the other night that cat was infiltrating our side), I get the privilege of him pouncing on me, talking to me, climbing all over me.

It sounds cute. It is cute. Well... slightly less cute at 3 o'clock in the morning.

I fed him. I got up and walked around the house with him. I cuddled him in the chair in his room. He continued to babble, point at my nose, and mostly be in a good mood. Finally I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, so I took him back to bed, where we woke up Patrick. I felt bad, because he had to get up early to go to training in West Hollywood today, but I was sooo sleepy. And the baby was not. Patrick took him out to the chair in his room, and returned in a little while with him asleep. I mean, CONKED OUT. I don't know how he does that; I can get him to sleep during the day for naps, but at night he sometimes gets all fidgety with me. I used to be good at the nighttime bedtime routine, but I think Ex can sense when I'm sleepier than he is, and it is at those times he decides he wants to play.

Finally we all slept until 6, when Patrick had to leave (I'm sure he got up before then to get ready but I totally slept through that), and then at 6:30, I got up to start getting ready for work and to take Ex to daycare.

It was kind of fun getting him ready for daycare - we sang songs and I kept calling him things like "party animal," "playboy," and "the most interesting man in the world!" He liked all that, and laughed a lot (not so much while I was cleaning his little nose). He looked so cute in his little outfit this morning. He woke up with great hair. I, on the other hand, did not. I tried brushing it with a wet brush and slapping some product in it, but I know the back of my head is totally jacked up. Oh, well, I can't do anything about it. There are women with babies at my work who show up looking glamorous and beautiful, fully coiffed and made up, but I'm happy to be clean, relatively wrinkle free, and moisturized. It's enough.

Everything took longer this morning than I expected it to, even nursing him before we left - we got out the door 15 minutes late, me with my arms full of baby, car seat, breast pump, and his lunch bag with his bottles and food in it for the day.

I dropped him off at daycare one day last week, too. Since Patrick usually does it, I'm not as good at the "goodbye" routine as he is... Ex cried when I left then, and he cried when I left today. Patrick said he doesn't usually do that. Maybe separation anxiety only works with me? I didn't know what to do... walking out on a crying baby seems mean, but his teacher told me not to prolong it. I kissed him and left. I did hear him stop when I was out in the hall putting on my shoes, so that's good, I guess, but I felt awful.

Yesterday, knowing I had to take him to daycare, I asked for an hour off this morning from work because of the possibility of being late (though, if we had gotten up at 5:30 like we normally do, and I'd left for the daycare at 6:15, we conceivable could've made it on time); I forgot that traffic is totally different at 7:30 than it is at 6:30, so I was 15 minutes late. I got here right on time for the taco truck... I got a breakfast burrito before heading upstairs.

I do have to say, the only good part about being the one to drop him off at daycare is, I get to be the one to pick him up. I can't wait to see that little face later today, a whole hour and a half earlier than usual.

Today

I'm at a wellness meeting. They told us to "dress comfortably" because we're going to go on a hike (!). I'm wearing jeans and converse. Not super professional but I'm cozy.

I left Patrick at home with the baby, who still has a fever and that darn cough. His temperature was 100.4; not super high but still. I would've stayed home but I had to pay to attend this meeting. Anyway, I'm leaving early.

When I checked in, the guy remembered me from my first County job, 11 years ago. That's kind of crazy.

...

I heard on the radio that Jeff Goldblum will be on Glee, playing one of Lea Michelle's dads. I haven't watched Glee since the first season, but isn't Jeff Goldblum old enough to be MY father?

...

Eating my free muffin and juice, waiting for this thing to start.

...

The first speaker at my meeting was awesome. I've seen him before at other Wellness meetings. His name is Dr. Frank Meza, from Kaiser. He's a very engaging speaker. The second speaker? Not so much.

I oppose SOPA and PIPA.

Click here for more information: https://www.google.com/landing/takeaction/

Things I do when I can't sleep.

I couldn't sleep last night. This was, I think, the second or third night in a row. JP has another cold, and last night he had a slight fever. I had a not-so tiny, hot little baby cuddled up in my arms; in the past, this has been perfect, but this time I couldn't get comfortable. He would wake up every once in awhile and cough, and when he did, he would stretch or change positions. For quite some time, he was lying on his back, in the crook of my arm, his head resting on that flabby part of my arm that I was glad to have finally found a purpose for, in a position that made us both look like we were floating on our backs down some dark and calm stream.

I tried reading (like his father, the light doesn't bother him; most noises, in fact, don't bother him while he's sleeping, though he seems to be strangely sensitive to the running feet of the cats in the other room). I tried playing endless games of "Doodle Jump" on my iPhone. My Scrabble and Words with Friends pals were all snoozing, I guess. The baby seemed most comfortable (ironically) when I was sitting in the brown chair in his room, and he was sitting on my lap, partly turned toward my body, with one arm around my waist, with the overhead light very dim, and the table light (not so dim) on, while I read. I read holding the book in one hand, and with the other one holding him. I said "ironically" because all the stuff I've read about co-sleeping (that is, sleeping with your baby in "family bed") indicates that allowing your baby to sleep on you while seated in a cozy chair (and the brown chair is extremely cozy) is more dangerous than people think. Apparently, people who think co-sleeping is dangerous, think sleeping with a baby in a chair is safe.

This is not true.

However, since I was awake, cognizant of my surroundings (i.e., not drunk), and could definitely see well enough to make sure he didn't, I don't know, smother, he was just fine.

At 1:30, Patrick came in to check on us, and to try to convince me to let him take over.

Why do I have this, what, compulsion?, when the baby is sick, to do everything myself? I have to watch that, because Patrick is just as careful and caring as I am with him. Also, when he's sick, Patrick is less serious with him than I am: he isn't afraid to make him laugh. I'm not afraid to make him laugh, I just want to make sure I don't interrupt his sleep. If he wakes, I want him to go back to sleep as soon as possible. Do babies need to laugh when they're sick as much as they need to sleep, or to nurse? Maybe they do.

Earlier in the evening, I asked Patrick to repair to the living room (sounds good, doesn't it) because I thought a quieter bedroom would help me. Usually it does but last night, it didn't. By 2, I was ready to try to sleep alone. I woke up Patrick, handed off the sleeping and slightly less-hot baby, went to the bathroom (a need I'd been ignoring), then crawled into bed.

I still didn't sleep.

I was a little uncomfortable - the baby had been nursing more frequently but only one side at at time, and I think I accidentally skipped a side, maybe more than once. My right breast (the one that I had to have surgery on when I had that disgusting abscess) was sore. My scar felt different. I should've pumped but I kept thinking we'd catch up. We never did, and now I had that to worry about (this morning, he nursed just fine; the best way to fix that problem). I didn't want to get my pump stuff all dirty when I'd just have to wash it for today. I have extra parts and can avoid washing every day, but I always feel like if I don't wash everything it's some kind of minor failure that I'd just as soon avoid. It was risky, not pumping, but I think it worked out okay.

Before I was pregnant, my favorite sleeping position was on my stomach. For one reason or another, I haven't been able to sleep that way since I was pregnant, and now apparently I was too tired but still all wired up for some reason. I bet even being on my stomach would not have helped. Before I sent him to the living room, I told Patrick that I felt anxious about something. I felt a lump in my throat, actually, but I don't know why. Well, I have an idea. Of course. It's now 12 hours later and I still have that lump for some reason. Maybe it's in my stomach now. Maybe that's why I couldn't sleep face down.

When I was a little girl, I had a couple of remedies for sleepless nights. One was to read. I used to just stay up, and read, read, read. That worked the best for the moment but the next day I'd be wasted. Now that I have to drive a car in traffic I tend to find staying up all night a poor solution. When I was a teenager, I had one friend that I could call in the middle of the night. Talking on the phone or getting on my computer would've been too disruptive to the little guy. Also, who would I call? Another solution (this one was suggested by my friend Laura Love's Nana. Nana told us once when I spent the night, before we all went to Disneyland, and we were too excited to go to sleep at a decent hour) was to lay in bed on my back and raise my arm and to concentrate on holding my arm up. Eventually you're supposed to get so exhausted from holding up your arm that you just let it fall... and then you fall asleep.

My mom used to tell me to daydream. I believe her exact suggestion was to "daydream about Christmas." Or probably it was "daydream about heaven." I must've been really little when she suggested this. I'm kind of ashamed to admit that daydreaming about Christmas is a lot of fun (heaven: not so much - sorry mom! Maybe someday I will learn!). Ashamed because it's just dreaming about having things, isn't it? Still: it works. It's now turned into "daydream about winning the lottery." This is the technique I turned to last night. I wonder what my mom would think about that? Daydream about heaven, Christmas... the lottery. Well. I never said I was deep. Did I?

It's silly, because winning the lottery is sooo materialistic. I mean, what would I do with lottery winnings? Spend it, of course. I would BUY THINGS. The number one thing now on my list is, I would like to remodel our home. We've talked about making our tiny house a bit bigger for a long time now, and I think by now we know what we want to do. I like thinking about how we would finish the rooms and what kind of sinks we would have in our bathrooms, and the style of kitchen cabinets I want, and how I would furnish our new bedrooms. I want a wooden deck in the yard. New wood floors throughout the house, bamboo maybe; possibly cork in the bathroom. I want a dining room. A laundry room. I watch all those HGTV real estate shows and people are always going on and on about "en suite" bathrooms and central air and heating, and sometimes those people annoy the hell out of me, but yes: I want those things too.

I usually fall asleep doing the house, but apparently last night was special. I stayed up, and up. So I thought, OK, I have a bunch of a million dollars (the amount is never specific, of course). What do I do with it?

Well, JP needs to go to college. Hell, I need to go to college. And I'm sure my mom and dad would like a vacation. We could all go to Hawaii! And my mother-in-law could use a condo so that she could be closer to us, and to her other grandchildren. And wow, I'd like a new Beetle or a Volvo. I bet Patrick would like a better home recording studio: how much fun that would be for him! And maybe new drums for all of us! And guitars! And lessons for the guitars, and maybe ukeleles! And flutes for everybody! It would be fun to buy my dad another 1965 Ford Econoline pickup like the one he had when I was really small. And City Garage needs money. And the flute choir could use a contrabass flute... or two. My brother needs a newer car, my other brother... doesn't really need anything, but he could probably think of something. My sister might like to live somewhere of her own one day. My niece and nephew will need to go to college. My largesse grew larger the longer I stayed up.

And then, I realized: here I am, dreaming about winning the lottery, when in the other room, my adorable, perfect, still even less-hot little baby and my husband were quietly sleeping, having achieved that thing together that I couldn't, and the truth is, I've already won something much, much better.

Yes. New plumbing and subway tiles and bamboo flooring and a Beetle or a Mini or a Crosstour or a Volvo and a contrabass flute or two would make my life fun. But it's pretty darn nice right now. I just want that baby to lose his cough and then we'll be set for quite a while.



Songs that were thought of while writing this:

1. Jive Talking, by the Bee Gees
2. Atoms for Peace, by Thom Yorke
3. The Eraser, by Thom Yorke
4. I Would Die 4 U, by Prince
5. Evil Woman, by ELO
6. This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody), by Talking Heads
7. Man or Muppet?, by the Muppets
8. You Said Something, by P.J. Harvey
9. I Put a Spell On You, by Bryan Ferry (and CCR, and the Birthday Party)

Petition for City Garage Theatre

Hi, everyone,

The theatre group that I worked with for about 6 years, City Garage theatre, has a petition on Change.org that I'd like to draw your attention to.

Change.org
Start an Online Petition »

 
For many years before I joined them and until last year, they were in a funky little space behind the 3rd Street Promenade, in the alley between 4th and 3rd. They put on many top notch productions (I was a part of 14; 12 behind the scenes, in the light/sound booth, and 2 awesome experiences onstage) and get great reviews.
 
Don't take my word for it: head on over to citygarage.org and check it out for yourself.
 
In 2010, they moved out of the funky little space behind the 3rd Street Promenade, and started using a temporary space in one of the galleries at Bergamot Station. I had a baby in 2010, and so my involvement has slacked off. I don't know all the details about the space there. I do know that a permanent space is what they need. If you click on the petition above, you can help them get it.
 
Thanks!

Sick Again

(Who knew that "Sick Again," the Led Zeppelin song, is a somewhat mean dispatch to the band's "pathetic" [Jimmy Page's word] groupies? Thanks, Wikipeda... I guess!)

JP, who had a cough 2 weeks ago, got better last week, now has the cough again. Last night he had another fever. Not too high - he was his usual happy little self but he was also a little whiny at bed time. That is not usual. Anyway, once he fell asleep, he seemed to require my presence (we all are still sleeping together, but most of the time, once he falls asleep, he's cool in his own little area of the bed, which is nice). Perhaps "coughing on mommy" made him feel better? I stayed up until 2. Around 12:30 I finally gave up on falling asleep. I couldn't get comfortable, I couldn't turn off my brain. I tried reading, I tried playing games on my iPhone... I just couldn't sleep. At 2 I woke up Patrick and asked him to take over, which he quite willingly did. Even then it took me about a half hour to fall asleep. Then my alarm went off at 5:25, and somehow I got up. I even took a shower.

This morning his fever is gone and Patrick says he seems like he feels better, but I'll be checking on them frequently today.

Oh, so this is what parenting is! I'm probably being simplistic here but I like it better when the baby isn't sick.

...

Another reason I probably couldn't sleep... my mom starts chemotherapy again today. She was off for quite some time, because she had a really, really bad reaction to the last round. She spent a week in the hospital at Thanksgiving. I worry that she's going to be knocked out again. I really like seeing her more active and more like herself.

Oh, so this is what growing up is! Well. I have 24 more days of my reckless 30s to enjoy. Then I guess it's time to take my emotions and my hormones by the hand and... and... and do what? Enjoy my responsibilites? Buy a minivan (I kid. I'm a kidder)?

This could be another reason I'm not sleeping.

Wish me luck today, I'm probably going to need it.

Me & you, remembering

I think I've mentioned before that I was not very cool in High School... but one of the funnest* and (to me anyway) coolest things I did was go see the band fIREHOSE. I saw them at least 3 times, at the Palomino and McCabe's Guitar Shop (where I met the man who could write with both hands at the same time; I believe his name was Jeff!), and the shows, especially the one at McCabe's, were kind of magical to me at the time (George Hurley, a great drummer and fun to watch always, was particularly insanely talented that night, and had what seemed like a thousand cymbals all going at once, including the cutest and tiniest splash cymbal I'd ever seen).

The funny thing about this was that of course I was totally unfamiliar with the Minutemen until about 5 years ago. I don't know how that happened. I'm glad I get it now but it took me a while to circle back. (For the record, I think I've always been a fan of Creedence.)

I heard Mike, Ed, and George are reuniting at the Coachella music festival. I've never been to Coachella; actually, it's always kind of intimidated me with it's massive list of bands and the huge crowds. I might have a touch of agoraphobia (which could explain why I often have coughing attacks in places like baseball stadiums or, even worse, on stage) or maybe I'm just shy (ha. "maybe"). Anyway, we're not going to Coachella this year.

I was just looking at the list of shows fIREHOSE is doing before they head to Coachella, and unfortunately none of them is close enough for us to get a babysitter and go to. I guess the Palomino is closed.

It would be kind of fun to go to Santa Cruz, wouldn't it.







*I can't explain why I enjoy using this word, either.

Singing Janitor Strikes Again!

Yesterday (or was it the day before yesterday? What day is it now?) I wrote about overhearing the kindly janitor (I think I stole this from John Irving) who was crooning to himself while sweeping up the leaves in the parking lot. I ran into him again (sort of) in the afternoon.
I think I've mentioned that the room I use to pump is right next to the ladies' room. Right now it's just a closet-sized, recently painted room with a hundred year old vinyl chaise lounge (in pieces; I can't figure out how those cushions are supposed to go together) and a chair in it. Supposedly there are plans in the works to transform it into a bona fide Lactation Room but aside from painting it and repairing the acoustical tiles in the ceiling, that room looks pretty much the same as it did in 2008 when I first started working here. Since all that's required to make it "lactation ready" is to remove the ratty chaise, install a table, and change the signage, I'm not sure why this is taking so long, but as it is, it works.

When I was pregnant, I used to take some killer naps in there. Some of our Financial Services staff do too (occasionally this is an issue). I think there's one other woman who uses it to pump; sometimes we overlap our times. She only pumps once, though: I can't figure that out. I'd be leaking from here until tomorrow if I did that. Since I pump three times a day, my breaks are dedicated (no more naps, or walks). And, as you might guess, sleeping while pumping isn't recommended.

Anyway, the room is right next to the ladies' room. Close. As in, you can hear things. Including, it seems, anybody who happens to be singing while in there.

The janitor (I really have to learn his name, because, as I also mentioned yesterday, or whenever it was, he's a good guy) was in the ladies' room while I was pumping. The little closet-like room doesn't have a lock on the door, but it does have a "occupied/not occupied" sign, and I sit on the chair, which I move in front of the door. Someone would have to push against all my weight if they were trying to get in, and believe me, sometimes people (people who can't read the sign) do. But luckily I'm heavy enough to prevent anyone from busting in on me. Yes, I said "luckily."

Okay! So he was in there, singing to himself while he refilled the toilet paper and paper towel dispensers, and doing whatever it is that he does while he's cleaning, but it was killing me, because I could not, for the life of me, get what song it was. He was making a little noise, banging the various doors and dispensers and flushing the toilets, and of course not doing any of that in rhythm with the song, so I was having a hard time hearing the words or even the melody of what he was singing. That he was singing, yes, I could tell. What the hell song it was, no. I was disappointed. I like finding out the type of music people listen to.

The same thing just happened, but this time I really listened hard. I still couldn't figure out the melody (if there was one; seriously, the poor guy couldn't find a melody if it up and hit him; maybe that's just a side effect of singing with headphones on, because my mom does that too), but I could pick out more of the words. I heard:

"But maybe tomorrow you'll change your mind, girl."

I forgot my iPhone today, so I had to remember those words while I packed up Exton's milk, put my shirt on, and put my pump away and walked back down the hall to my office to do a Google search on those lyrics. Turns out it's a Jackson 5 song. Without my phone I'm having trouble pulling that song up in my brain or online, but my "Maybe Tomorrow" Pandora radio station just started (with "One Day in Your Life" instead), so maybe it'll play soon so I can hear the original.

Pandora "Maybe Tomorrow" Radio:
"One Day in Your Life," by Jackson 5
"Pray," by Take That (No. I did NOT listen to this song)
"Get Your Shine On," by Jesse McCartney (see above!)
"I Wanna Be Where You Are," by Jackson 5
"I'm Stone in Love With You," by the Stylistics
"Just You and Me Baby," by the Spinners
"Baby, Baby, Don't Cry," by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles

... Hmmm. This is taking forever. Maybe I'll just wait until I get home.

And if the wind is right you can sail away

This morning as I was walking up to my office, the janitor was sweeping up the leaves in the walkway. He's a nice guy. He also cleans the ladies' rooms on my floor. He's very patient with the women who try to dash in just as he's getting started.

When he's outside, he listens to music on his iPod. He's a slightly older African American guy, and we always say good morning to each other (the room where I pump is adjacent to the ladies' room, and I see him a lot during the day). Today he was singing with the music (just, I might add, like my mom, i.e., out of tune [bless their hearts]).

The song? "Sailing," by Christopher Cross. I love that song. It goes with the yacht rock soundtrack I've had playing in my head lately.

Cool: now I want a cheeseburger.

I read a story in the New York Times today about the women who put out great performances in films in 2011 (it's ironic: all the articles I read about movies and dance performances! - yet I haven't been in a movie theater for a hundred years, and haven't seen a real ballet EVER), and there's a quote at the very end from an actess who played a teenager who comes out as a lesbian to her family. The movie is called "Pariah," and I'd like very much to see it. I'll probably get a chance, when the baby goes to college. Or maybe summercamp.

The article talked about how these actresses prepare for their roles and handle the toll of portraying their characters, and mentioned that the woman who was in "Pariah" was surprised by her own emotional reaction to something in the movie that didn't necessarily jibe with her original plans for the scene or the character.

“I’m not going to die from being too vulnerable,” she said. “I can go, when it’s all done, and get a cheeseburger.”

I love this quote. I love it so much I'm considering using it to rename my blog.

(The actress's name is Adepero Odeye, and there's a totally fluffy and charming story about her, here. And then, there's a less fluffy but still charming story, here.)

Happy New Year

The baby is asleep. His temperature is back to normal, though he still has that dang cough. Patrick is playing drums out in the garage. I'm curled up on the couch with the new Stephen King novel about time travel, a glass of water, a bag of pita chips, and the best dang hummus ever.

I'm picturing Jake as Bradley Whitford. Or maybe -- and this is insane -- as Luke Perry. I'm kind of leaning that way right now; Bradley, no offense, is a little older than the character is in my mind. Wouldn't all the girls swoon at seeing Luke, in whatever 2011 shaggy hairdo he's sporting now, cut it back to its "Beverly Hills, 90210" style once he goes back to 1958?

See you later. It's a thick book; I've got some reading to do.