Liz is Working

Mars Baby

Thu, 03 Jul 2008 09:13:41 -0700

We had a second ultrasound yesterday to check on the positioning of the placenta. They flipped on the 4-D for a minute and we got a glimpse of the baby's face. The technology is amazing, but the baby managed to pull a pretty hilarious face, so the only picture we have looks decidedly un-cute. He was looking, as J put it, very Cydonia mensa. Everything looks good and he's measuring about a week ahead of schedule. We met up with some of J's relatives last week, one of whom almost had a 10-pound baby (they induced at 8 pounds). So there could be a giant baby in my belly. The placenta is still low-lying, but right above the cusp where I would have to have a mandatory c-section. There might be some of you reading this who have very little interest in placentas, but maybe you should just google "placenta" and check out a few pictures that pop up. That is what I had to do after my first ultrasound, because what I realized I didn't, after all, know much about placentas. Oh man, that thing is crazy! Anyway, it's important to keep that guy intact and doing well, so we'll see what the doctor says. I've passed the 30-week mark...in the home stretch! Right? Right?? Otherwise, things have been lovely and mild. I rediscovered a Thai restaurant right around the corner from our house that is actually the very first place I ate pad thai in high school. It is still as delicious as I remember. Definitely the best pad thai I've had in Denver, maybe even surpasses New York stuff. Sometimes pad thai just tastes like old oil or wet dog and I can't abide by glommy noodles, so going back to a really delicious dish that started my love affair with Thai food was pretty awesome. I've spent the rest of my time getting worked up over these people who adopt monkeys because they had "empty nest syndrome" and needed a living doll they could feed french fries and candy to. After they removed the dolls' teeth, of course. If you need me tomorrow, I'll be watching the Nathan's Hot Dog Competition from my couch while eating donuts with my friends. It's no standing in the press box and drinking at Ruby's, but it will be decidedly more relaxing. Happy 4th!

Buffaloafer

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 12:11:25 -0700

I have been waking up in the night with very random, clarifying thoughts. Like suddenly realizing that an odd last name of a new retail contact at work is the same as the odd street name in a new address of one of our papers. I realize this means nothing to you, but it was like puzzle pieces fitting together at 3:00 am. Last night, Maude Newton, she who blogs about literary stuff, popped into my head for some reason. What I thought was this: could "Maude" be her real name? Could one really be a literary blogger if one's name was, say, Kaitlyn? Of course, one could, but maybe one would change one's name to something more bookish and fitting, like Maude. A Wikipedia check this morning tells me her first name is really Rebecca. Thank god I'm coming up with shit like this instead of brilliant child care solutions or can't-lose money-making schemes. You know what makes me mad? Popcicle stick jokes. Most of the time, they're just of the typical bad joke variety, but lately there have been a lot of infuriatingly nonsensical ones. It used to be my least favorite was, "What goes 99, clump, 99, clump?" Because the answer is "A centipede with a wooden leg." But if you think about it, what the hell is 99 supposed to sound like? You can't combine a general number with a descriptive sound and pretend they are the same thing. That my friends is a lazy joke, dependent on the listener to fill-in all the missing parts and laugh based on the idea of a joke. But now! Now I have a new least favorite: "When is it time to go to the dentist?" Answer on stick: "Tooth thirty." Do you know why I hate this joke? Because they fucked up the punch line. This is a classic joke and the answer is supposed to be "Tooth hurty." Which sounds a lot like 2:30. Har har. It's not a brilliant joke, but it works because it is punny. "Tooth hurty" describes the ailment and reason to go to the dentist, as well as sounding like an actual time of the day you would go to the dentist. "Tooth thirty," on the other hand is nothing. Beyond using the word "tooth," there's zero substance to the joke. Plus, "Tooth thirty" is awkward to say. It makes me want to stab out eyeballs with popsicle sticks, or at the very least call some popsicle stick joke hotline and complain. I'd boycott the product, but can't resist the lure of banana and root beer flavored treats. I think we've solved the swimming pool problem: my brother's apartment has two pools. I predict much floating this weekend.

Split Kick

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 08:51:51 -0700

The baby was kicking very hard last night, but on both sides of my stomach simultaneously. I can only conclude he is training to fight ninjas in there. We were just watching the Olympic trials, though, so it's also possible he was inspired and wanted to test out his flexibility. Isn't he talented already! This weekend I had a lovely massage, a Mother's Day gift from J. I think all my weekends should include a massage. Apparently, you just lie there in a nice-smelling room with relaxing music and someone rubs all your sore muscles away. Brilliant! The plan was to go swimming afterwards, but that fell through when our hot spot turned out to be populated solely by very tan 20-somethings who were lounging on all the available chairs and watching each other. The new plan is to find a hotel with a spectacular pool and seek out a cheap room rate one weekend night. People will all chip in, lay by the pool, watch crappy cable movies in an air-conditioned room, and maybe even order up some room service junk food. Sounds perfect to me.

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 09:28:42 -0700

I am starting to have fantasies about going into the doctor's office and having her declare that their calculations were way off and I am at 40 weeks NOW and, hey, I'm ready to have this baby straight away! I figure this must be a common third trimester thing, right when you start feeling trapped by your body. Usually when I feel a little heavy or bloated, I can just eat healthy for a few days and kick it up a notch at the gym and I'm back to feeling great again. While I decided that the summertime bbq diet of deviled eggs, potato salad, cake, and potato chips could certainly be scaled back, the gym workout gets increasingly difficult each time I go. I'm not doing anything too strenuous, just some eliptical, floor exercises, and stretching, but it does feel weird for added exercise to have the opposite effect of making me more worn-out and sore rather than stronger and healthier. On top of all that, you know what's really bothering me? That Cindy McCain apparently doesn't have any original cookie recipes. Look, most of the things I bake come from cookbooks or recipes; I only have a few things that are "original," and even those had a head start with an established recipe. It's the execution of the whole thing that rubs me the wrong way. No one checked to make sure the recipe she was going to submit wasn't, say, a recipe on the Hershey's website? Or if these were truly a favorite of hers, couldn't she just admit it was a Hershey's recipe that she tweaked a little and gone with that? Frankly, the whole thing was just done sloppily, which makes me feel the same way I would about someone who stole an essay off the internet and turned it in for a grade. If you're going to fake it, at least put in a little effort to cover your tracks so it takes more than a lazy google to find you out. I'm trying to decide if my feminist baker mom would be on board with me or upset that I'm more bothered by this than the fact that the presidential candidates' spouses' contribution to the campaign are boiled down to a cookie competition in freaking Family Circle magazine. Also, can someone please bake up these two cookies and bring them to me? The, uh, baby would like to do a taste test.

Gas money

Fri, 13 Jun 2008 14:23:05 -0700

There's the one gas station in town that always has ludicrously higher gas prices than all the other surrounding stations. Like $.20 more per gallon than one a block away. It's on a very busy street, not right off the highway or before a toll area or in a secluded spot. It never ceases to baffle me that it stays in business doling out gas for so much more than their competitors. And there are cars that stop there! Who are these people? Even if you saw the sign and assumed that all gas prices must have jumped that high, wouldn't you at least drive to the next pump--again, a block away--to verify that prices had indeed skyrocketed since the last time you checked? I can only conclude that this location somehow magically aligns with the exact spot where people run out of gas and can coast in on fumes. Either that or the store is a drug-dealing front and the high prices keep everyone away who isn't there for "gas." That reminds me of my favorite store that only could have been a front for drug-dealing. In Brooklyn, there were a lot of them. Of course, I had no concrete proof, but what else is the guy doing running a severely understocked 24-hour convenience store? In any case, this place was a shoe store. Except they only had one wall of shoes, displaying only the right shoe. Each shoe had its own little shelf, and each was shrink-wrapped. The clerk sat in the back of the store, behind a plexiglass window. Of course, this store was open 24-hours, too. Eventually, they got rid of the shoes and switched to calling cards. They must have had people coming in actually trying to buy shoes. Aside from feeling a little sad that I'm missing the 4th of July Nathan's Hot Dog competition this year, I'm feeling pretty happy about not being in New York right now. You know how much I miss the heat and humidity? Ha ha ha. The temperature's creeping up here, but it's still nice and cool once the sun goes down, with nary a hint of ocean in the air. I think this is what they call "spring."

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 11:03:03 -0700

The baby has taken to getting hiccups fairly regularly now. I knew that would happen, but I expected it to be more of a whole stomach sensation, when in fact it's like a little twitch low in the abdomen. It's fun knowing where his little head is. I'm getting poked and kicked quite a bit, but don't usually have a reference point for what body part might be doing the jabbing. But now I'm pretty sure it's his wiggly legs. Our car's air conditioning has been slowly dying since last summer. We brought it in to be checked out and the diagnosis is not good. Apparently there are several leaks and some assorted other things that would take some $700 to straighten out. It's a decent car for a 1990 Buick, but there's no way pouring in that much money to revamp the air conditioning would be a wise investment. I'm a little scared of the summer now. I think I will have to purchase one of those handheld electric fan things for emergencies. Like when it's summer and I have to get in the car. Even though the serious heat hasn't set in yet, my mind is already in some summer lethargy. I'm perfectly content to lie around with my root beer floats or root beer popcicle and read US Weekly with the first season of Human Giant going on in the background. In fact, I'm kinda sad we're out of root beer popcicles and US Weekly. The Flobots, they continued their ascent into fame as they appeared on Leno.

Comics and donuts

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 13:32:02 -0700

Even though I was adequately warned, I didn't believe I'd cry so quickly. But it's futile to resist. These short comics about the earthquake in China are equal parts amazing and devastating. In case you need a pick-me-up after reading a few of those, you should head to Krispie Kreme for your free donut.

Tidbits

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 15:42:34 -0700

We have begun painting the nursery. We don't have a crib or anything yet, but the kid will have some nice walls to look at. We were mostly inspired by this pic. We also painted the office and bought some curtains and trimmed the trees and fixed the sprinkler system, so all-in-all, we're coming out looking like very responsible homeowners these days. Well, we still have to order shades for the living room so we can take down the grubby canvas cloths pinned above the window, but we've picked out the supplier and color, so here we come, more-finished-looking house! I saw the "Sex and the City" movie this weekend and I have to say it is a sorry time not to be drinking. I met up with Heather and some of her friends at a lovely bar in the afternoon where sun was pouring in and she had just discovered that cranberry juice mimosas were the best thing ever. Everyone was pretty drunky mcdrunk by the time we made it to the movie, and I would estimate they were in similar company throughout the theater. While some people paid homage to the movie by getting a bit sloshed beforehand, others dressed the fuck up. We're talking strappy stilettos and summer dresses and big fancy bags. To go sit in a darkened movie theater in. Which I found hilarious. But then I mentioned it later to J and he reasoned that it was no different than the nerds pulling out light sabers or storm trooper masks when heading to a new Star Wars movie. And that those girls could never ever make fun of anyone else who dressed up to go to a movie ever again. But I can. Haaaa...stiletto nerds! Things that can impede my sleep: --Heat --Having fan on so that it makes curtain flutter over forbidden-to-Max windowsill, causing Max to obsess over getting into said windowsill --Having other window open, causing Max to leap into and out of it over and over and over throughout the night --Eating Oreos directly before bed, causing baby to swim laps in my belly all night; he's gotten very good at the flip turn --Max alerting us every time he finds a suitable present to bring us: foam pieces, tissue, leather scraps, and as of this morning, an eye patch. There was no sign of a blinded pirate stumbling around, so that one's a bit of a mystery.

Oh Noes!

Sat, 31 May 2008 10:15:33 -0700

+ = What? Memorial day was only a day long? Huh. Well, back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

Burro Update

Fri, 23 May 2008 08:52:23 -0700

Turns out it's Prunes, not Prune. Even better, the roadside attraction is actually for two burros: Prunes and Shorty. Good thing that part didn't make it into the story or who knows if we ever would have parsed it.

Flobots

Wed, 21 May 2008 08:41:58 -0700

I've known two of these guys since sixth grade, and another for about ten years. Before Flobots was in the current incarnation, it was some guys messing around in a basement in high school. Then they recorded themselves and handed out self-created tapes. Then there was this magical fusion a few years ago when they introduced some key musicians and elements from another friend's funk band. Then they caught on fire. They were just signed to Universal and are starting to tour in a newer, bigger way. It's weird to see your buddies on national television, but so exciting.

At least we steered clear of "burrow"

Tue, 20 May 2008 16:19:09 -0700

Krista and Micah are discussing their plans to drive down to New Mexico this weekend. Aubrey: You'll pass the giant borough. You should stop to see it. John: Oh yeah, prune the borough! Aubrey: Yeah, prune! Krista: ....what? Prune the borough? Aubrey: Prune the borough! He's huge! John: Yeah, you have to stop to see him. Me: What? Aubrey: It's a giant stature. Of a borough. Me: What word are you saying? Borough? Aubrey: Y'know, b-u-r-r-o. Me: You mean a DONKEY? Whose name is Prune? Aubrey: Whatever! [puts on dramatic Spanish accent] burro. "Donkey." Geeze. Me: No one would just use the term "burro" out of nowhere! I was thinking "borough," like in New York. Aubrey: Only New York people would think that. Me: No one says "burro"! And then she called us all honkeys. * * * Scene: ice cream shop Me: Hi, the bathroom door is locked, is there someone in there or do I need a key? Very chipper ice cream girl: Oh yeah, it's only that one! Me: ...so there's someone in there? VCICG: Yeah, sorry! Me: Oh, it's fine, I just wasn't sure if it was occupied or I needed a key to get in. VCICG: I wish there were two! People always need the bathroom at the same time! Me: Okay then. The weather is just delicious lately. It's right at that moment before it gets too hot, but where it's nice and sunny and perfect for walking around with giant waffle cones dipped in chocolate and filled with ice cream. Speaking of ice cream, I made the best milkshake ever this weekend. Somehow I need to find a good balance between eating ice cream for every meal and not gaining so much weight that I'm completely immobile by August. I'm not sure it can be done, but I think the ice cream is winning.

Good Babies

Wed, 14 May 2008 09:19:18 -0700

I cannot wait to not have to take vitamins anymore. Why are pre-natal vitamins so big and smelly and gross? Why! I don't understand why they can't be encased in a capsule coating or made smaller for easier swallowing. All of the brands look exactly the same, so I guess it has something to do with magical vitamin construction and rate of dissolution or delicate balances, but still: gross. My belly is big enough now that sleeping is pretty sucktown. My hips get sore during the night from all the side sleeping and I'm not sure how to adjust a pillow to relieve that sort of ache. Flipping from side to side is also now much more of a chore...something to do with loss of stomach muscles or them being buried by a small child. Then I do the math in my head and realize I still have like three and a half more months of this. And I'm not getting any smaller. On the up side, the baby sure kicks and squirms around a lot, which gives me something entertaining to pay attention to throughout the day. Even though I am only a sorta mother at this point, people gave me little cards and stuff. J got me a gift certificate for a special pregnancy massage (though he kept insisting it was really from the kid, to be deducted from future allowances), and my friend gave me this sweet shirt. My brother, J and I took my mom to a chocolate festival, which is totally as awesome as you might imagine. The highlight of the night was getting to meet the real Violet Beauregard. She looks exactly the same, except older and less like a blueberry.

Sweet

Tue, 06 May 2008 16:30:23 -0700

When I arrived at work this morning, I noticed that I had scrawled a word across my notepad and circled it. This word was "paranormal." I stared at it for quite awhile trying to decide what it was I had taken the note about. Obviously it was important enough for me to write it down and then circle it, but I will be honest: there are not many reasons why the word "paranormal" would get jotted down in my line of work. Was it the name of an article? A new blog? Was I supposed to schedule a seance for the office? It took me most of the day to realize it was the name of a dvd collection I wanted to remember to bring home. We had our first baby shower over the weekend, put on by the super nice people at J's work. Whoever heard of the husband's work throwing a party for him and his pregnant wife? No one! Super nice! We got lots of adorable little fuzzy outfits, which is great because now the baby will have something other than recycled newspaper to wear, which is what I had been saving up just in case. There were also piles of glorious food, like deviled eggs (heaven) and brownies (J heaven). The cake was pretty cute, with a frosting baby and tiny frosting bear on it. My mom became smitten with the bear and wouldn't let the hostess cut the cake before she'd carefully removed him and placed him on a little plate. The hostess presented me with the plate and slightly squished frosting bear, "Your mom wanted you to have the bear!" This put me in somewhat of a predicament because...well, what does one do with a frosting bear that's been granted a second life on a paper plate? He'd lost his right ear in the transfer, but otherwise looked up cheerily. I left my new friend in the kitchen while we opened gifts in the other room. I was sort of hoping the bear had taken care of himself in the meantime. Perhaps ran off with a sultry potato chip or found his way into the tummy of the 6-year-old wandering around, but he was still waiting for me when the hostess began packing up leftovers. "Your bear!" my mom said, handing me the plate. "Now how are you going to get him home?" I suggested we slide him onto the piece of cake we were taking (because I did not have my large keepsake locket on hand). He lost the other ear in the process. A day later, I ate the leftover cake, but now found I was having trouble eating the bear. Maybe because he'd been deemed "my" bear at some point, like I was supposed to care for him now, perhaps pay his way into frosting bear technical college and attend his graduation and then check in on him now and again as he pursued his dreams of becoming a clinical laboratory technician. The bear eventually became more squished and unrecognizable as he the fork pushed him aside and he wound up, more or less, a little mound of brown goo. Then, when he wasn't looking at me anymore, I stopped worrying about him. The slice of cake also happened to have the baby on it, but I had no problems eating the baby's chubby face and his be-onesied crawly body. I mean, after all, it was just frosting.

Oh, there were expletives

Fri, 02 May 2008 07:27:19 -0700

There are lots of kitchen gadgets we have that are fun, but don't get used very often. Chocolate fountain, fondue set, cherry pitter, melon baller, s'mores roaster. Of course, the once a year when I need to pit a huge batch of cherries or want to dip some stuff in chocolate, they come in handy, but we tend to accumulate a lot of tools of the trade that sit unused a majority of the time. That being the case, I am sometimes reluctant to buy new gear in the fear it will only add to the clutter without providing sufficient services to justify their existence. However, after about the tenth time I had to transport/store a cake and wishing I owned a cake carrier, I finally caved and bought one. It was the last one Bed Bath and Beyond had in stock and I was totally thrilled. I'd been planning on an encore presentation of Deb's Expletive-Free Cake for Passover and needed a way to bring the cake over to my parents'. Now I had one and we were off to good start. Unfortunately a good start is as far as I got. I know I managed to make the cake last year with minimal fuss, but this year I got snagged every step of the way. First, the recipe called for Dutch-processed cocoa, which I had a hard time finding. A guy at Whole Foods assured me their bulk cocoa was the right stuff, but I was nervous about throwing off the chemistry of the delicate cake and worried the whole time I didn't have the right stuff. I had finished the batter--which is a giant mess of whipped egg whites and chocolate and creamed yolks--before looking over the ingredient list again and wondering where those 4 tablespoons of water were supposed to come in. OH, at the beginning, you say? Could I add water to a pile of beaten egg whites? Guess I would have to! Not too much trouble. But the cake is four layers and I only have the two pans, so a double batch would be in order. As the first layers were in the kitchen, I looked over the ingredient list again and saw this: salt. Shit! Well, if water can go into batter after the fact, the salt was going to have to, too. Into half the cake, anyway. Then my eye caught the stupid cocoa sitting on the counter. Shit again! When was the cocoa supposed to go in? A quick scan of the recipe told me...it didn't! I was only used as a dusting between layers. Grumble grumble. The salt-less layers looked okay, if a little flat. Time to make the whipped cream filling. Can't screw that up, right? Turns out it's as easy as using the wrong measuring cup! Who likes extra sweet whipped cream! Anyway, the whole thing eventually came together, but not after ruining the expletive-free part of the recipe. People even ate it and liked it! J wanted to bring the leftovers home to continue eating it! Bringing leftovers home would be a cinch, because hello! Cake carrier. We made it about two blocks in the car before we heard a mysterious slide, thump, and crash. I stopped the car. Me: What was that? J: Did the cake make it into the back seat? Turns out J had temporarily put the cake on the car's roof while loading other stuff and then forgotten about it. We drove back to assess the damage. The poor cake never had a fighting chance. It ended its days spread all over Narcissus Way. "How's the carrier?" I asked anxiously. J just shook his head. A total loss. The story made my mom laugh enough to replace the carrier. I certainly learned to read through a recipe more than once before starting it. And J chalks the splattered cake up to experience. Now he'll know to be extra careful with the baby car seat.