google-y eyed

The last few years I have become obsessed with podcasts*. I decided to go back to the first episode of This American Life and listen to them all, in order (I'm currently up to November 2009).

So it was nice to see the interactive Google Doodle today play "love themed" new and old audio clips from This American Life. I even recognized some.

Apparently Ira Glass approached the Google Doodle people with ten clips and they also set up this cute little interactive box-of-chocolate page with longer stories--including an awesome one about Starlee Kine trying to get over a breakup by writing a love song with the help of Phil Collins. That's a TAL top-five story for sure.




Click on the Image to check that out.

Happy Valentine's Day!  We are celebrating by ordering pizza and watching "The Way, Way Back." [really good movie] With my brother.






*I also LOVE Snap Judgement (a little more "urban"?), 60 Minutes (holds up surprisingly well as audio-only) and Under the Influence (marketing is CRAZY). I listen to them when I am trying to fall asleep, taking a walk, cooking/doing dishes, and of course in the car when I don't feel like singing at the top of my lungs or talking on the phone.

day off

I have a general rule not to talk about work on here, but I will share this: I've hit a cracking point.

Two straight years of too many demands, too few resources and little concern for our time from the people making the demands. A ten-hour day is a short one, and the system went live last April. There are other teams in our organization where people can eat their lunches in the break room for an hour and leave at 5 p.m., but that is not the case for our group. I have been trying not to log on during weekends any more. My boss is lobbying for new hires and bargaining with them to attempt to push dates back. But yesterday, after people started paging/calling coworkers to get me to respond while my phone was off the hook, I had enough.

I needed a day to recharge. So for the first time in my life, I am taking a mental health day, all for me. To start it off, I woke up at 3:17 a.m. and could not fall back asleep. So, for another first time in my life, I got out of bed and went to the gym.

No kidding, you guys, there are SO MANY PEOPLE at the gym at five a.m! It's like there is a whole different world in the morning, that I had never seen before. There was even a rousing game of pickup basketball at that hour!

I had a great yoga class and feel so much better on four hours' sleep than I usually do on six or seven. And by the time class was over, my sleep inertia (that confused, groggy feeling when you first wake up, which lingers extra long for me) is gone. Perhaps this is going to have to become a habit.

So on this day for me I am going to:

• Write a bunch of posts (backdated for accuracy)[didn't happen that day]
• I got my car stuck in the snow and sat in a police car
• My second Stitchfix box 
• My ring featured at On the Same Page blog
• Research icemelt for the roof--the ice dams on our roof deserve their own post(s)[sold out EVERYWHERE! Jon had to get it way out in the boonies.]
• Go to the bank
• Get my eyebrows done
• Watch my telenovela, which--SPOILER ALERT--has been hitting close to home with a very sad pre-term labor/baby death.
• Knit the second sock for my Godmother's mom that I have been working on since the fall [worked on it, realized I forgot a crucial step and opened everything I had done up again.]
• Probably fall asleep early. Who am I kidding, I do have to go back to work tomorrow and work on Saturday. [still went to bed late and did not go to work early the next day. But I did get there early on Saturday!]

my ring

M and Ale over at On The Same Page blog did a feature about unique love rings from around the world. M (who you may have been hearing about for years on my blog as Kaiya) asked me for a photo of my engagement ring and a little blurb about it. There are some seriously gorgeous pieces in that post.

"My father-in-law's grandfather had this ring made for his future wife sometime around 1919 or 1920 in Germany, before they left to come to the United States. When my husband had it appraised, the jeweler said everything about this ring is hand-crafted from the cuts on the stone itself to the delicate filigree work in the setting and down the side. It was saved for the wife of my husband (the only boy of four). The diamond has a flaw in it, but it's part of his family history and I wouldn't want any other ring."

evolving

I miss you guys.

Recently I read this "State of the Blog Union" post on designsponge, and while it did have a bunch of stuff that doesn't really apply to my little blogger-standard-template-from-2004, it did hit on a few things that have changed since I started this blog back in 2005.

• People have a lot more online outlets, so they have shorter attention spans. 
• a blog is no longer the place to interact with readers
• "The internet is no longer a place where there is divide between those who make and those who consume.

That makes me:

• glad that people even read my posts at all these days--especially because I haven't really been writing very often.
• a little wistful for the days when I'd hurry to check for new posts on your blogs and be sure to see at least one per person and rack my brain to come up with a thoughtful comment for each one.
• sad that I don't really have time for that anymore--I know some of you are putting up great posts.

I miss writing posts. I miss commenting. I miss documenting both the trivial and the momentous; being able to come back here to settle a bet on when something happened is tremendously sweet. And I've probably forgotten more than I can remember about my life--this place was great to let those experiences live past their moments.

I've come so far. I've gotten to know you, met some of you (hell, I even married one of my best blog buddies from back in the day). It's making me sad that this isn't as big a part of my daily life as it once was.

I miss it.

I need to come back around here more often. 

Stitch Fix: My Second Box

Unfortunately I have only gotten slightly less lame since the first Stitch Fix post with my first box. This time I didn't model the clothes, either. The weekend went by SO QUICKLY!

But I did model the scarf.

You can see why I don't like doing this. 

This scarf was pretty--I used the "Magic Trick" method* to tie it. But I put it up against a lot of the shirts/sweaters I might wear it with, and I don't think those colors would go. I passed on it.
 

I had a picture of this one on the floor, but the beauty of it is its drapey-ness, so I'm posting a photo of the little suggestion card they give you with each item--the piece I was sent is the gray, draped sweater (they're just suggesting the striped dress and orange shoes). 

I have a black sweater like it, and I can never leave the draped parts alone, for whatever reason, every time I get up from my desk, I wrap them over my front. They look like bat wings that way, and thus I look like Dracula. It ruins the look. It's a nice sweater, and it had pockets. But I passed.

This polka-dot navy blazer has a bit of a fuzzy feel to it. I really really almost kept it, but I would most likely want to wear it with jeans. I consulted the best stylist I know in real life, pp (she once dressed me for a huge interview I had to get on a plane to attend, and I was really sad when I had to donate the blouse because it was too tight, but I still wear the pencil skirt). She said if I couldn't match the blues from jeans to that blazer, it wouldn't work. So I had to pass. Jon was not a fan of the polka dots. Does he not know me? There have been days when I come back from a whole day of shopping with nothing that DOESN'T have polka dots on it.

This is great. The pattern is interesting, It fits pretty well, I really like the color combos. AND I have a jean jacket just like the one they suggested pairing it with. Can work for the office and out. I kept it.

And now for the item I knew I was keeping the second I caught a glimpse of it in the box:

LOVE. I love the color. I love the detail, I love the style. Looks great on, too (I'll have to take a picture of myself when I wear it). I LOVE IT. Also, this is that color that I love so much that I asked my mother to wear it to our wedding, because it looks awesome on her. Kept.

And here's an "action" shot of me wearing the scarf I kept from the last box.

I combed my hair and put on lip gloss. You're welcome.

If you want to try Stitch Fix, this is my referral link.

*The "Magic Trick" is at 2:35 in this very well-executed video by Wendy's Lookbook, which shows you 25 ways to tie a scarf:

embankment

7:50 a.m.: Pulling out of the driveway, there was a LOT of snow on the driveway [first Polar Vortex of 2014]. It was beautiful, but I was driving slowly.

I was probably pushing it at 18 miles per hour.

8:00 a.m.: I was approaching a stoplight at a very busy street. I was on a pretty busy route. Even more so at rush hour. I started slowing down well ahead of when I normally would. There was a fancypants car stopped at the light ahead of me. I needed to get into one of those left-turn lanes that sort of breaks off toward the left. This is usually full of cars and there's a very low corrugated divider thing that outlines where the angle to getting in this lane is. Many a morning people drive right over this and into the lane so they can get to the front for the left-turn arrow.

Pretty quickly, I realized that my car was not going to stop before kissing the the back end of this fancypants car. So I guided my car to the left, hoping the low, corrugated divider would slow me to a stop right where I needed to be. The whole area was covered in a foot or more of snow, but I relied on memory to pull it off.

It was a genius move, if I do say so myself. My car smoothly slid past the fancypants car and into the left turn lane. Unfortunately, I forgot that the low, corrugated divider turns into an actual median closer to the light--this is a busy intersection, after all. Instead of coming off the divider and into the lane, my car kept sliding all the way up onto that median. Which is just high enough that my wheels couldn't get any traction.

I couldn't move.

I was a sitting duck there, with less than 2 feet on either side of me to running traffic. I didn't dare get out of my car to investigate.

8:15 a.m.: I called my coworkers, who graciously offered to come over and give me a push, but I declined. The last thing I wanted was them to get stuck trying to rescue me.

8:20 a.m.: The police arrived. I sat there on hold with Allstate Insurance Company. For an hour. Apparently the system for getting a tow is that you get put into a "hold pool" of sorts. Contracted towing companies pick up, ask where you are and then say "oh, I'm in xxxville, that's too far," and throw you back on hold. I was sitting there, watching people pass by me, laughing, and being thrown back into the hold pool over and again.


This was right after using the windshield wipers. There was not a lot of visibility. Which is why the officer parked there--so no one would slide into me after the turn.


10:00 a.m.: After NINETY MINUTES, the police officer had enough and told me that I was a hazard. He was going to call their tow truck to winch me out. I felt like the world's biggest idiot. In 20 minutes the tow arrived, and the officer asked me to sit in his squad. This is the second time I've been in the back of a police vehicle--the first being in a paddywagon outside the Robert Taylor Home projects, no less).

The seats in those things are so deep and SO SLIPPERY.

The police officer suggested pulling my car out sideways. Because "that's how they pulled out the last one this morning." The tow truck guy disagreed. I believe his words were "This is 20th car I've pulled out this morning." And the cop was making ME feel like an idiot! This was happening to EVERYBODY that day!

10:30 a.m.: After the tow truck guy pulled my car out and into the gas station parking lot about 200 feet away, he gave me the bill: $150. "It would have only been $100 if you had called. This is the 'police rate.' " Pro Tip: Don't let the police call the tow; you'd think they'd get a discount, but really it's the opposite.

11:00 a.m.: I crawled my car the 0.1 mile home and worked from there.

And when we tried to get that money reimbursed by Allstate? All they would give us was a $100 reimbursement, even though it was their stupid system that forced the police to call his own towing people.

STRIKE TWO, Allstate. (Strike one was not covering the plumbing backup because we "declined" a coverage that they failed to even offer to us.)

clearly, i need to learn more about gardening

While there were some great things about 2013 (getting a new house, seeing how excited everyone got that we might become parents), I'm pretty confident putting it into the "Bummer" category.

After the baby stuff, my college girls gave me a beautiful fuchsia hydrangea from a nursery in California, and it was beautiful. After the blooms died away the stems stayed pretty green and healthy, even sprouting offshoot buds! But then through the move and the change of seasons, it started drying out. The buds fell off. And it looked like this:

I finally resigned myself to accept that this plant didn't make it. Last week, I was about to finally get rid of it--I was going to try using the potting mix to add to my struggling orchid, when I discovered:

 

 And this is basically how I feel about 2014.

Thank you all for the love and prayers you've always sent our way. Happy New Year, everyone.

don't disturb the rototiller

I went to lunch today at a frou-frou pizza place near the office with a bunch of coworkers who wanted to go out before the holiday. We had made the reservation for 10 people at 11:30 a.m. under our company name, which also happens to be a man's first name (for our purposes, let's say it is BillyBob).

My cubicle-neighbor and I got there right at 11:30 and there was no one in the foyer. The hostess said they were setting up our table, and we could sit down when it was ready, even though the rest of our party had yet to arrive. I was relieved because most of us had 1 p.m. meetings, one of which was with the Director. Cube-neighbor and I were talking about how nice Lutherans are, when we looked up and there were 60 people surrounding us in the foyer. But our party was straggling in. We looked at our watches and each other and then heard a different host-person call out, "Party of ten for 'BillyBob!" As we struggled to make our way to the front, I saw some jackwagon say, "That's us!" parade his group over, and proceed to take our table.

Cube-neighbor and I just looked at each other. Our party wasn't even all there yet, so really what was the point in complaining? But then suddenly, there they all were. The girl who had made the reservation demanded to know why we hadn't been seated, and the manager tried to pull some word trickery about how they were waiting for our entire party to show up. My coworker gave him an earful and the six of us sat down. It was after noon.

***

Two of the people in our lunch party have 14-year-old sons. Over frou-frou pizza they were saying (and those with older kids agreed) that 14-year-olds are the worst. My mother has always said that I have been a wonderful child my entire life, "Oh except when you were 14. That year you were kind of a brat."

One of the girls with the 14-year-old was really teed off at her kid because he had made a plan that involved walking somewhere after finals, but that didn't work out so he and his little friends were stranded outside a locked building in the freezing rain with no plan because they didn't think ahead and they weren't being very considerate. She was frantically trying to call him to figure out how to have him picked up out of the freezing rain, but he did not answer any of her seven phone calls in a row, nor did he respond to her text messages. When he finally answered, she discovered that someone had walked by and they had been talking. And apparently this former teacher was more important than repeated, and increasingly urgent, calls from his mother.

She very sternly but not-yellingly told him that she was angry now and just because he didn't make a plan doesn't mean she was going to be irresponsible at work and drop everything to pick him up. There was a lot more said, but I was in awe of how clearly she expressed her disappointment yet kept her voice even and conversational. But firm. Had I been in her position, I would have been screaming like a rototiller, probably to the point where the kid couldn't make out the words. At the end, she was like, "Do you understand what you need to do right now? Ok, then I will pick you up from so-and-so's house and then we will discuss this."

***

Our Christmas cards and Christmas gifts are going to be late. This had been stressing me out, as I took a day off to try and get everything done but overscheduled myself and didn't get ANYthing done. I have now returned more gifts than I have in my possession to give, and it is T-minus five days to the main event. This week I've come home from work at or after 9 p.m. every day because SHOPPING.

***

It has been three and a half months of living in this house and I still don't feel comfortable here. I wake up, get ready and go to work, come home (usually late), eat something quick and get in bed. Any free time is spent picking up or cleaning. I keep wondering when we will go back to that one-bedroom apartment that seemed cozy from the first week we were there. Or if I won't feel at home until we move to a different house.

***

Jon and I are pilers. Take any surface in our abode; we will inevitably stack things on top of it. Sometimes they will be in really neat piles, but still. I do not enjoy that about us. Both of us are trying to create a designated place for everything, but this process pains me. I am pushing through it.

***

I am just like my mom, and I am also just like my dad--yet they are not the same as each other, if that makes any sense--in the way that little things annoy them, irritate them and poke them in the ribs until one day when someone goes to a friend's house without calling to say they'll be four hours late instead of dead somewhere in a ditch or a book of stamps clearly has been stolen but really has just fallen behind the drawer. Suddenly there is a rototiller going off and making a prolonged ruckus all over the place.

The problem with this habit the three of us have, is that the sometimes-not-so-innocent bystander thinks that we are so high-strung, oversensitive or ridiculous that such a small thing will make us blow up. What the bystanders always miss is that pile of misdeeds underneath it all that had been steadily growing for some time.

***

I have learned:

1) 14-year-olds are the worst. Mainly because they are self-absorbed and inconsiderate.
2) I surround myself with assertive, strong ladies because I find that to be lacking in myself.
3) Stressors are piling up to exacerbate the ulcer I developed when I took too much Motrin after the Baby.
4) Frou-frou pizza is overrated.
5) People who are not 14 years old can be the worst when they are self-absorbed and inconsiderate.
6) Something needs to be done to make me feel at home.

and they also sell lawn grass

The woman who used to live in this house continues to receive approximately 10 catalogs in the mail every day. They are eclectic, ranging from Pecans and Fancy Nuts to Gifts from the Audobon Society. 

At first it was kind of amusing, and I was leafing through them for Christmas gift ideas, but it's getting a little ridiculous now. I was telling cc about it the other day. I sent her this photo of the selections of the day:

 That's FootSmart, Uncommon Goods and King Ranch.

"What exactly does King Ranch sell?"

"Stuff from 'the heart of Texas.' " [flips to a random page in the catalog and text messages a cellphone photo of camo-patterned gun cases]

"OMG, I just looked up King Ranch, look what's in there" [texts a link to the SAME EXACT camo-patterned gun cases.]

 I guess you had to be there, but seriously there are days when it's clear that cc and I share a brain.


Thank you all for your love and support. Your love, messages and good wishes mean so much.

it doesn't happen on tv, so that means it doesn't happen, right?

Basically I'm pregnant. They didn't find a heartbeat at the first ultrasound last week and the baby measured six weeks when I was supposed to be further along. We went in today (seven days later), no heartbeat identified and measurement is still six weeks, so apparently this classifies as a "missed miscarriage" because my body has not yet recognized that the baby stopped progressing and continues to make me vomit and feel sore and gross. I am scheduled for a D&C on Friday.

This really sucks. But it's nowhere near as bad as what happened in May, when I had to naturally deliver a perfectly healthy baby knowing she wasn't developed enough to be saved.

What really ticks me off is that there is a 15-25% chance that ANY pregnancy will result in miscarriage. That seems like an awfully high percentage for something we hear so little about. I get that people need privacy, and I respect that. But the less we talk about this stuff and how it hurts and how it isn't the fault of the mother, the father or the heavenly ghost, the worse it is for those who have to go through it thinking no one else understands how they feel. And it's more people than you think.

So hug a friend today. There is a good chance that they or someone they are close to have lost a pregnancy. Maybe even more than one.

Stitch Fix: My first box

It's no secret that I hate shopping for myself. Particularly for clothes. I feel I must look at every item in the store to make sure I don't miss anything. Then I'm wracked with indecision if I sort of like something. And let's face it, it's going to have to be one heck of an awesome piece to even consider taking my pants off to try it on. Half the time I talk myself out of a purchase for that reason alone. These factors combine to make shopping a giant, time-consuming pain.

So when my pal Kaiya recommended this lovely shopping service called Stitch Fix, it seemed tailor-made for me:

a) You fill out a profile with your sizes, style preferences and price ranges.
b) You indicate what you're looking for (in my case work-clothes are out of date and I have a few pieces from high school that probably need to go).
c) You pay $20 for a "stylist fee."
d) They send you a box with five items in it they think you'll like.
e) You try everything on, and buy the ones you like (the 20$ goes toward that). If you don't like anything you send it back and just lose the stylist fee.
f) You tell them what you liked and didn't, and schedule another box to come on a specific date.

I am superlame and worked too much this week, so I didn't have time to properly photograph myself trying everything on for my first "Fix." So you will just have to imagine me wearing these items. I promise to do better next time.

I looked at this and thought "I would never choose this for myself." Jon thought it looked like something I totally would pick out. I put it on and it was great. The sleeves were a more knitty type of material and the pattern was silkier. The drawback was that it's snug around the extra weight I am still trying to get rid of from the baby, so I would always be self-conscious about that. I sent this one back.

This blouse is sheer and has pretty little birdies on it. I really liked it, but it is FREEZING at work and I'd have to wear something over it until next year. Plus I have a top that is very similar. Sent back.

This infinity scarf has an nice triangle pattern and a very tight knit that would have taken forty years to make myself. And it's warm without making me feel like I'm choking. Awesome for the office, and neutral! I kept it.

I really liked this jacket, but it was light and fitted so I would not be able to wear it comfortably over a sweater, so I'd probably just wear it when it was pretty warm because I'm cold regardless. One thing I LOVED was the bound seaming (the seams were covered in a cute floral fabric that was also used for the pocket lining). I wish I had taken a photo of them. Those kinds of details get me every time. Reluctantly sent back.

As a tip to the stylist, on Pinterest I had posted a photo of my fall coat, which has an off-center zipper. I love that it's different. So she sent me this hoodie that I pretty much wore right out of the box. It is also kind of snug in the post-baby area, but I'm hoping the stripes distract from that. This looks better on me than lying on the carpet.

I will definitely be scheduling another box. I tend to binge shop when the mood actually does strike me, so having a box of five things sent to me every once in awhile saves me time and gives me the peace of mind that the thing that I might like isn't off trend/crazylooking, AND I don't have to sort through everything at the store. That saved time can go toward doing something worthwhile to me. You know, like watching Cosby reruns or knitting booties. 

If you're interested in giving Stitch Fix a whirl, here is my referral link.

the day i lost my magic touch

This is going to sound ridiculously absurd, but the first time that I waited until the last minute and was UNABLE to complete a task was in October 2011, when I was 33.

It's pretty damn impressive if you think about every single math assignment I completed on the bus, five-paragraph essay I wrote during lunch and entire textbook I would read in the 12 hours before the examination. The number of all-nighters is off the charts. Trust me when I say I pushed it to the VERY EDGE. And, pretty much every single time, I pulled it off.

That is, until I needed to complete the quilt I was making for my friend/realtor's baby, who was born the day before our wedding. Jon helped me choose the perfect fabrics and I started piecing it together, taking my sweet time. I made plans to visit the baby and her mom one day after work, so I had the first thing that I always need to know about any project: the deadline.

The night before my visit approached and I hadn't yet quilted the layers together or put on the edging. No big deal, right? I thought, I can conceptualize each remaining step of this process so it shouldn't take me more than a couple of hours (this is a lifelong problem that also translates to me thinking any place I know the route to will take me "about 15 minutes" to get to).

I ran into some issues and had to re-pin several times, and as the birds started chirping, the sun came up and the alarm for work went off it started to dawn on me that I WASN'T going to finish. This was an earth-shattering revelation. I have always believed that if I work hard enough I will accomplish my goal. And I have done that (usually due to lack of pre-planning/inspiration). But not finishing? Not making deadline? WHAT? Had I lost my mojo? Was I going crazy? Am I a failure now? Resounding yes, all around.

I took a little outfit I had bought as a backup to my friend, whose daughter is gorgeous. They actually had sofa throw pillows in a very similar pattern to one of the fabrics I chose for the quilt so it was extra disappointing that I didn't have the handmade gift ready. I mailed it to her a couple of weeks later.

I still think about that morning. It was like an end of an era. The pseudo-invincibility I had cultivated all those years of pushing the limit and coming up with something good from all that pressure sort of deflated like a balloon you let go of before tying the knot. I think of it every time I want to put something off till later.

But then I put it off anyway.

pie! in the mail!

Hey, do you know my friend Shalini, author of readingandchickens and the new book, "Lost & Found"?

SHE SENT ME A PIE! IN THE MAIL! FROM SEATTLE!!!

Cranberry Walnut (in the style of a pecan pie) and it is delicious!

 AND they threw in some very good-looking Manchego cheese from Spain. :)

Apparently, the US Postal Service gave her a hard time sending me one of her delicious pies, so she had to send one from a "Bakehouse." I'm imagining it's as good as hers (it's really good).

Thank you, Shalini!!!

nothing like nature to spoil organic plans

When I lived at my parents'/a high-rise condo/apartment, I didn't have my own yard, so I sort of co-opted my the one at my parents' house. And I had a lot of ideas.

My dad's favorite thing to tell me was, "when you have your OWN house, you can do whatever you want." But they did let us do a lot of stuff.

There was that time Jon and I made a pretty sweet new garden for my mom's vegetables. 

And the time I made composters in my parents' yard with their leaves. I was so excited when I actually got some compost out of it. My dad tolerated it for about two years.

But now we do have our own yard. Because he loves me, before we even closed on the house Jon bought me a fancy spinning composter. And we've spent the last few weekends raking/shredding almost a dozen bags of leaves. I'm getting all the used coffee grounds from work, and throwing kitchen scraps in with handfuls of leaves at a time. The leaves from our house should last awhile, but I doubt they'll make it until next fall.

I had big plans this week to get the rest of the leaves and shred them up for my stash. Then we were going to rototill the backyard to even it out and spread seed for actual grass. 

Unfortunately, Mother Nature put a halt to all that by throwing a bunch of snow all over the place.

at least i have a window

This is where I spend most of my time. Other than hitting the snooze button from the warm cocoon of my bed. This is also what I blame for why my NaBloPoMo is not up to par this year. I'm sorry.

the marketing department for the city was on vacation

On my way back from Los Angeles, I had a layover.

Approximately 4 feet away from this sign in the airport was a stand of tshirts that said, "I've tried polygamy!"

i am so proud of Illinois today

Everyone, everywhere, deserves the opportunity to celebrate love like Jon and I did.

back when i had style

I queued up this not-very-good Janeane Garofalo movie from Netflix--which has probably been on my list since 2004--and I had to rewind one miniscule scene, where two ladies walked in front of a souvenir shop for 1.5 seconds, about three times.

I owned this EXACT SAME COAT in eighth grade. You know which one I'm talking about. One of these days, I will dig out a photograph.

And I rocked that sh-t.

timber

"I think I've found my new favorite song."

"Please tell me it's by Ke$ha."

"No...It's by Pitbull FEATURING Ke$ha. And it's about square dancing."

"Um, you grew up in California. I'm pretty sure you don't have the first clue about square dancing."

necklace

When we were in San Diego, having a wonderful time watching our nephew take some of his first, wobbly steps, Jon's sister A gave me a little box. It was from all his sisters. My sisters.

 

 It's emerald green--the birthstone for May. It is perfect. 

I may not be able to wear it every single day, but I will cherish it forever.

the view

We told everyone we were taking a quick trip to California to see family, hopefully see the Dodgers play in the World Series of baseball (they were eliminated), and to just get away for the weekend before Jon's birthday on the 31st.

But the November 1 due date has been looming large over us since the day we found out we were expecting. And we knew this birthday was going to be excruciating for Jon, who had been looking forward to it for the first time in decades. We had separated the ashes in half, knowing exactly where we'd like to lay one part in California: At the top of a hill in Jon's hometown, overlooking the downtown area and the ocean. It's one of his favorite places in the world, and the first place he brought me to see when I came out to visit him for the first time in 2005. It's become one of my favorite places, too.

When we arrived, Los Angeles was foggy. San Diego was cloudy. His hometown was misty. Saturday, Sunday and Monday, threats of rain. I was having second thoughts about letting her go, but I reminded myself that we had a small portion of the ashes at home. So Tuesday morning--before we had to leave for the airport--we got up very early and drove up to the cross.

After all that gloom, it was an absolutely glorious morning. It felt right.

 

 We carefully chose a spot with the best view. You can see out for miles.

 And there were other little white piles peeking out from underneath bushes. She will not be alone up there. That made me feel better.

We felt at peace. Still, it was hard to say goodbye.

Today was our baby's due date.

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel

 

Remembering you standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in, holding you close
How I always held close in your fear

 

Remembering you running soft through the night
You were bigger, brighter and whiter than snow
Screamed at the make believe, screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage to let it all go

 

Remembering you fallen into my arms
Crying for the death of your heart
You were stone white, so delicate lost in the cold
You were always so lost in the dark

 

Remembering you, how you used to be
Slow drowned you were angels, so much more than everything
Hold for the last time then slip away quietly
Open my eyes but I never see anything

 

If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I'd thought of the right words
I wouldn't be breaking apart all my pictures of you

 

Looking so long at these pictures of you
And never hold on to your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true
And always just breaking apart, my pictures of you

 

There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart, my pictures of you

The Cure

Oh, and for the eighth year, I'll be doing NaBloPoMo this month.

OH the PLUMBING

The house gave us a present when my SIL m and her husband, Joe, came to visit from Ohio. All we did to deserve it was take four showers in a row.

The drain in the garage backed up with some sort of dark sludge. The plumber described it as, "Yep. That's Number 2." 

AWESOME.

The thing about living in a beautiful neighborhood with old trees is that the roots of those old trees can find their way into your pipes. And when the people who live in your house hadn't done anything about it--say, for a decade or more--the roots form a tangled net that can't let a lot of water (or solids) through to the main drain. It makes for a lovely surprise on a Sunday afternoon when you have out-of-town guests. Especially when you've only been living in the house for less than a month.

The plumber put a cutter into our pipes and "rodded" out a three-inch-diameter hole through the roots in the service line until he hit something inpenetrable at about 60 feet. Three days later, the pipes backed up again. 

The second plumber put a cutter into our pipes and rodded out a three-inch-diameter hole through the roots in the service line. He, too, hit some sort of impasse. They suggested we call for a camera, because the clay (yes, in the '60s Midwest, they used CLAY) pipe could be broken or there could be a gigantic ball of roots at that 60-foot mark.

The camera guy had a lot to show. The roots looked like that scene in Disney's Snow White where Snow is running through the forest and the tree branches look to be so thick and menacing that kids in the '20s who saw it in the theater peed on their seats. But I digress. No broken pipe, just a maddening amount of roots. 

The plumbers were accessing our service line through the corner of our garage where the cast-iron pipe is only four inches wide. In the yard, the clay pipe is six inches wide. They said it would be much better to dig a 5.5-foot-deep hole in the yard, cut out a section of the clay pipe and put in an access so they can forevermore get directly to the six-inch pipe and not have to come through the house. 

They did that. But still couldn't get through the massive root ball 60 feet from the house (and a lot closer to the main), so we have to call another plumber with a more powerful cutter. In the meantime, we just have to time our water usage and make sure nothing offensive (I'm talking two-ply toilet paper), gets into the pipes and hope for the best. 

After all this is done, we need to sanitize the garage, the downstairs bathroom and the laundry room, as well as the brand-new carpet and padding in the downstairs. We estimate the entire endeavor will cost a cool five thousand dollars.


Here are some things I learned from this experience:

• Don't flush anything down the toilet but the thinnest of TP. If any product says "flushable," it'll likely go down the drain, but if you have anything (like our roots) in your pipes, it will get stuck. Tampons are even worse with their stringy parts that can get tangled.
• You do NOT want a backup--the sewage could ruin your walls, floor, furniture and anything else you might have near the drain.
• If you don't have an existing clean-out access in the yard, the plumber will be happy to put one in for you--6 feet underground using an excavator machine.
• You don't have to disclose roots in pipes when you sell a house in Illinois (per my realtor). The plumber said there is no way the previous owners did not know about this. 
• However, the plumber can record the video of the insides of your pipes and put it on a flash drive in case you want to try and take somebody to court. The footage will look like a very disturbing colonoscopy.
• There's a homeowners' insurance policy that includes backup coverage--only 50$ a year! Your homeowner insurance agent will regret to inform you that you did not get "backup coverage," but conveniently email the form you were supposed to have declined the day after you inquire about how much damage is covered in your policy, saying he "forgot to show it to you."
• If you're buying a home near mature trees, you may want to ask when the last time the pipes were rodded/have a camera down there before you sign any papers. About $200 is way better to spend than 25 times that.
• Apparently this happens to a LOT of people. Ours is the only house on the block that hasn't had a clean-out access put in/pipes back up. Pretty good for a place that was built in 1968. Lucky us.

Welcome to home ownership!

looks like she's made it

Hey guess what, Internets, my friend Shalini wrote a book! And people can buy it on Amazon!

I think it is amazing that she's been talking about this for a long time, then put in the sweat and tears and hard work, and now when you click on this link, you can see all that hard work and even read it on your Kindle. 

Who knew that the shy girl with whom I roasted marshmallows in fifth-grade girl scouts and then again in my backyard in high school was going to be a bona fide author (under a pseudonym)?

Makes me believe that things can really happen if you use your talent and a LOT of hard work. Congrats!

***edited to add***
You can get a print copy, now!