tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70817659081438227862024-03-13T11:03:57.410-07:00Meandering<Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.comBlogger251125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-83026520762457619272016-03-29T11:47:00.001-07:002016-03-29T11:47:54.207-07:00Midwives and neighbors and a tiny (9 lb) baby boy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
3:30 in the afternoon. I'd been having mild cramps ever since my midwife appointment earlier that day, when she stripped my membranes and said that even though I was only 2 cm I would have a baby within 6 hours and it would be a super fast, easy labor. Yeah right. But then 5 hours after that, at 3:30 on a sunny Pi Day afternoon (and my actual due date!), those mild cramps suddenly got worse. So I text the 2 friends who were going to watch Maxwell, as well as messaging Joe. One woman is on the other side of the island and cant get back for a couple hours. One woman's phone had died and was out of contact for a couple hours. Joe had been called into a meeting and was unreachable. Ok.... Now what.... Worsening cramps turn into obvious labor contractions. I call my other neighbor, luckily she's home and can watch Maxwell. Finally get a hold of Joe. It's only been 30 minutes, but it sure feels longer. He gets home shortly after 4. Grab our bags and run out the door. Arrive at the hospital a little before 5, and have 3 people ask if I need a wheelchair, but I turn them down because sitting up hurts the worst. Get upstairs to labor and delivery as quickly as possible, but by now I'm having contractions every other minute and the pain isn't dissipating much in between, so we move slowly. The nurses and midwife on duty take one look at me and spring into action. They rush me into the triage room and get me hooked up to an IV while trying to find an available delivery room. I'm at 5 cm, the midwife tells me that I'm going to progress too quickly for meds. Two contractions later I'm in a delivery room at 8 cm. One more and I tell them I'm going to push. Three contractions with pushing, lots of yelling and death grips with Joe's hand, and an hour and 45 minutes from when I first thought labor was starting later, little baby Teddy was born.<br />
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That first midwife was so wrong. She predicted 6 hours, it was actually almost 7.<br />
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Two weeks later I'm sitting here feeding the easiest baby ever while the toddler is acting out the Zugor from Tarzan 2 and I'm really quite content. It's been a nice break from reality, but alas, I really need to get back to it. My to do list for moving is a mile long and still growing, Joe is back at work. The pile of laundry never seems to shrink, but all is well and we cannot wait to get to CA and then on to our new life as a homeowning student and teacher in CO.<br />
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I really do need to call about getting day care sorted this morning, though. Maybe after my coffee. And after I change this poopy diaper.</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-14614112598249994892014-09-12T13:31:00.001-07:002014-09-12T13:31:30.845-07:00A Brief Story of my Craziness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today I was eating breakfast/lunch/whatever meal you want to call it while Maxwell was not taking his nap. He's supposed to asleep, but it's been over an hour and he's still up there rubbing his eyes and crying in his crib. Ugh. Anyway. I figured I should get dressed. So I put on a new shirt, and it felt like it was painted on, and not in a good way. Without even thinking, I put my food down, got up and made a cup of coffee with a splash of 1% milk and a teaspoon of sugar. It wasn't until I sat down again that I realized that that's not exactly normal. Replacing meals with coffee because my shirt is too tight is not normal. This kind of thing happens at least 3 or 4 times every day. The thing is, I'm supposedly better. Recovered. Healthy.<br />
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If I took a hard look at it, I suppose it all began in high school, as it does with a lot of people. That's when the weird ideas began to creep in. How could they not? I was bombarded with pictures of super skinny celebrities and magazines full of dieting tips, and all my friends and I talked about food and weight on a daily basis. It was unhealthy, but normal unhealthy teenage girl stuff. It wasn't until after I'd moved out, then back to Bakersfield that it all came to a head and got out of control. <br />
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Officially the diagnosis was EDNOS, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. It's a vague diagnosis, but that's why it's such an important one. It's for people who have an eating disorder, but who don't fit the very narrow criteria for a diagnosis of anorexia or bulimia or binge eating disorder. In my case, I followed a very restricted diet, one that had far fewer calories than my body needed, and binged and purged (b/p) occasionally. I never became so underweight that I could be called anorexic (my lowest weight was 116, with a bmi of 19.3, which is still within healthy limits, a diagnosis of anorexia requires 18.5 or lower), and didn't b/p often enough for bulimia, but that didn't mean that I wasn't still very sick. At the time, of course, I felt like I was just a failed anorexic. Because, you know, that makes sense. Failing at being skinny enough for anorexia isn't something I should have been embarrassed about, but I was.<br />
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I'm not going to go into exactly why I did this to myself; it's all very boring and routine and boils down to low self esteem and poor stress coping mechanisms, or how I got better (therapy and whatnot), because that's not the point right now. It's that it's been 10 years and still my first instinct when I'm stressing or feeling fat or whatever is to go back to all those bad habits I learned all that time ago. Drinking coffee instead of eating is one. Then there's things like intentionally making my food too spicy or salty, so I don't really want to eat it. I don't trust myself to keep things like laxatives or diuretics in the house. I definitely don't even look at diet pills. Even though I'm better, it never really goes away. I'm aware of it now, and I can stop myself from doing anything harmful. It does seem weird though. I'm not unhappy. Sure, I could probably stand to lose a few pounds, but overall I'm ok with what I weigh and how I look. I figure this has gotta be what being an addict is like. Even after you've been sober for a decade, there's still always that first instinct to grab the bottle or pill or to skip a few meals. <br />
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Anyway.<br />
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I'm gonna go finish my pasta now. It's macaroni tossed with the extra filling from some broccoli and ricotta manicotti that I made earlier this week. Yummy!<br />
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Also, I think Maxwell is finally asleep, yay!!!</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-67532633899925445982014-06-09T16:54:00.001-07:002014-06-09T16:54:12.576-07:00Uncle Mike<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't mean to be rude or offensive, but the fact is, Uncle Mike was always one of my favorites. Often, my absolute favorite family member. It's not that I dislike any of you guys, it's just that I felt like we always had a special connection. I always felt understood by him. And he always gave great advice. Like when I was a teenager living in Tehachapi and complaining that it was just <i>so boring</i> all the time! He let me whine for a few minutes before interrupting my nonsense to tell me that anywhere can be boring. I could be in the most fantastic place in the universe, but if all I do is whine about it, I'm going to be bored. What I needed to do was figure out what I'm passionate about, and then figure out how to live passionately wherever I am. It was very Uncle Mike advice. And also very true. Granted, living with passion every day isn't always feasible or practical, or even (by most) advisable, but it sure made teenage me rethink what exactly it was that I was complaining about. Shortly after that I started getting interested in owning reptiles and amphibians, and that's a passion that I still hold today, although obviously, I can't actually own any here. <br />
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He didn't just teach me how to live life though, he also taught me how to play Gin Rummy. Or is it just Gin? I honestly have no idea, he taught me at least a dozen times, each with different rules, and unsurprisingly, beat me every time. This is something I fully plan on doing with Maxwell, as well as my nieces and nephews. He totally cheated at Capture the Flag too, just ask Grace after we played a very memorable game at Muna's house in Stallion Springs. Even that was valuable though. I learned that sometimes it's ok to bend the rules, as long as everyone is ok with it, and we're all having fun, it doesn't matter if it's not quite by the book. I loved every card game I played with him. And I loved playing Capture the Flag. I wish I could play again.<br />
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He was someone who always made time for me. Always made me feel important. Feel heard. I'll miss you, Uncle Mike! I hope you're having fun on this next great adventure!</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-28804078448991338522014-05-04T19:17:00.002-07:002014-05-04T19:17:34.099-07:00Zen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ok, so several weeks ago I started writing this blog entry. It never quite sounded right, so I kept adding and editing, and it got kinda out of control, and I"m giving up on it, but despite the rambling and repetitiveness, I do think I might have gotten my basic point across? So I'm finally posting it. Feel free to skip this one, it's me being all existential and, well, rambling.<br />
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For the past few weeks I have been reading Some Assembly Required by Anne Lamott. I like her writing. It's all fun and easy and she is all Quirky in ways that are normally cute, and only occasionally annoying and I generally feel better after putting a book down. And as with most books, I tend to put myself in the lead role and think "Oh yeah, this is totally like me! I would respond to this situation in the exact same way!" which is awfully egotistical, but I'm ok with that. We're all allowed to be a little self-centered. I am sad to say, though, I'm finding it hard to relate to much of what she says in this one. She talks a lot about her religion and her spirituality, which I read as a mix between your basic American Christian, and Bay Area Eastern Zen Hippy. I'm not religious by any means (my spirituality begins and ends with daily awe about how beautiful the world is, and frustrations about how people keep screwing it up), but I'm familiar enough with those worlds that I can empathize. She is also somewhat of a control freak, and while I sometimes feel the need to control myself and my world, I have no desire to control anyone else. That just sounds exhausting. And that's where we really diverge.<br />
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Like so many other people, she seems to have a real difficulty in letting other people live their lives without interruption. I do get what she's saying. There are dozens of articles about how hard it can be to sit back and watch people you care about screw up. We all want everyone around us to be successful and happy. We want them to make only the best decisions, all the time, every time. But what happens when they make a decision that we think is wrong? What the heck are we supposed to do, let it happen? Bite our tongues and butt out? Because, clearly, we know better than they do. Nevermind the fact that "we" and "they" are often the same group of people. And most of the articles are about how you need to just let go and let other people make their own mistakes and come to their own version of wisdom or something. I dunno. Honestly, I usually get annoyed halfway through and occasionally even stop reading because none of that is relevant to me. I do not try to fix other people's lives. If asked, I'll certainly tell you my opinion, but I've watched too many people make too many bad decisions to think that they actually give a crap about my opinion. I can't change their mind. I can't make them listen to me. And I can't stop them from living their lives however they see fit. And why would I want to? I don't know all the intricacies of what they're going through! And even if I did, we all experience the same problems differently. I don't feel the need to control everything. I barely feel the need to control my own life (Following, FTW). But what does this really say about me? Does it say that the reason that I don't try to fix things is that I'm just apathetic? I think a large part of why I don't try is because I don't think I can. I hear my friends complaining and I want to yell at them. I want to say "Just stop being stupid!!!" and I honestly think that's the best advice out there (are you having problems? Do you think you're too fat? Does your husband/wife not love/respect/like you enough? Does your boss think you're incompetent? Ask yourself, are you being stupid? Well then! STOP IT!!). The problem, of course, is that no one wants to hear advice like that until they're ready, in which case they probably can come up with it on their own. So I try to just be supportive of them through whatever bullshit problems they're going though (God, how condescending does that sound?) and be there for them while they're trying to change. Changing our lives is something that is so, so hard for most people. Honestly though, it's not for me. Change is easy. I can't stand staying the same. Being in the same place day after day after monotonous day. I guess it's not that I think that Lamott has the wrong idea of what Zen is, it's that I think Zen means very different things for different people. For me it's coming to appreciate those same dull moments that I already experienced.<br />
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I remember in a job interview once I was asked "What was one thing that you did that was scary?" First of all, that's a stupid question, but I guess all interview questions are kinda stupid. They're just designed to give you a better idea of who the person you're talking to is. My answer was something along the lines of "Well, a couple years ago I went to Peru by myself. I didn't speak the language (well, sorta, but not really), I had no one that I was traveling with, I just had to hope that the guide (who only barely spoke English) was a good guy and would be a good person. Whatever that means. It was kinda scary, because obviously a foreign country where they speak a different language is scary, but at the same time, stuff like that doesn't really scare me. I think it's all about what makes you brave, and most people, if they did that, they would be "brave" but since that didn't scare me, I wasn't really being brave, you know?"<br />
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I didn't get that job.<br />
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That was such a bad answer. I know you're supposed to turn every negative into a positive, but that came off as so…. "I am better than you because I am braver than you, even though I sorta said the opposite." Ugh. How awful. I sure wouldn't want to work with that person. <br />
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And I definitely wouldn't think that that person was "zen."<br />
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Ok, here's another story (I'm full of stories tonight, deal with it). I was in Bible Study as a teenager and the girlfriend of our pastor (they later married and whatever, but seriously, at this point they had been dating for like 5 minutes and he already had her leading Bible Study? Whatever.) asked us what our gift from God was. Because, you know, we're all gifted. She asked me first. Holy Shit. I think I was 15 or 16 at the time. And like most girls my age, I was horribly, terribly, and paralyzingly insecure. And she asked me what gifts God gave me? But I was going to be brave, and tried to answer honestly. I told her (and the rest of the group) that my gift was adaptability. I can jump headfirst into an situation (as long as it doesn't involving actual jumping, as my family will be quick to point out (I WILL CONQUOR THAT ROCK!!! someday. maybe. hopefully)) and adapt to it. Own it. It will be my new story. Well that wasn't what she was expecting so she mumbled something like "Ok, so you're gift is being a missionary? That might be good for you?" and quickly moved on to the next person. Everyone else quickly realized that she was not asking "what are your individual gifts?" but "what key words that we talk about within this church can you pretend to identify as?" and the rest of the Bible Study proceeded without incident. I never quite trusted her after that though. <br />
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My point though, is that I believe that "Zen" is overcoming all the bullshit obstacles that our own personalities through up in our way. For some, maybe even for most, it's learning to go with the flow. But for me, it's learning how to accept when the flow stops and your life is no longer a rushing river, but a calm lake. Because the thing is, even when it seems so calm on the surface, water is still moving. Maybe there's a spring that feeds it, maybe there's a little trickle off one side where water flows away, maybe it's just seeing all the gallons of water that float off into the atmosphere, but it is moving. That's what I have a hard time with. I feel like since I've had this baby, since I've been married really, I've been stopped. I've turned into a lake, and I don't know how to be a lake. So to find my zen, I need to find out how to move again. I miss the rushing of the rapids, I miss the drama of the waterfall (and to be clear, when I say drama, I mean on a larger scale, ask anyone, I am not into girl drama), I miss the violence of the wild world. So I am going to sit here. Quietly. Unchanging. And maybe I will learn serenity. </div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-4141633541811324632014-05-04T18:43:00.002-07:002014-05-04T18:43:18.090-07:00Backyard Anoles in Waianae<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just a few anoles from my backyard. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-giPRZ1wbvLw/U2br47Vm6oI/AAAAAAAAAmE/Y1Q2Mo769WE/s1600/DSC_0059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-giPRZ1wbvLw/U2br47Vm6oI/AAAAAAAAAmE/Y1Q2Mo769WE/s1600/DSC_0059.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
This guy has the pretty diamond design on his back that I love so much (note, I don't know how to sex them, so they're all going to be referred to as "him/he/his" because clearly I'm sexist. Or something).<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KlUraWp7jcI/U2br42lPqcI/AAAAAAAAAmI/mwdpwLP4zM0/s1600/DSC_0062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KlUraWp7jcI/U2br42lPqcI/AAAAAAAAAmI/mwdpwLP4zM0/s1600/DSC_0062.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is a different one who had a darker, speckled design, although you can't really see it in the pic. I can say with certainty though, male. At least… wait… I'm pretty sure only the boys have the flap. I could be wrong. Maybe I should research this?</div>
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This yellow spotted one was on the grill. They like it there. The metal is all warm, but it's in the shade, so there's lots of bugs, and they can jump into the grill itself when something scary comes by (as he did a few seconds after I snapped this shot).</div>
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Big guy on the other side of the grill. He'll be really pretty in a day or so, you can tell by how light his head is that he's shedding. He was actually about twice as big as the others.</div>
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-46570118121594953922014-02-13T17:33:00.002-08:002014-02-13T17:33:33.114-08:00Toddlers are terrifying, but way more fun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's finally happening. The cats are terrified (as they well should be), I'm steeling myself for the inevitable with a beer, and I'm trying not to use google for too much advice because that's a scary rabbit hole that I'd really like to avoid.<br />
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Maxwell is turning into a toddler.<br />
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Gone are the days when I could get him to curl up with me when he's upset. He no longer loves staring at the fan for hours at a time. He remembers that things like power cords and cell phones and dirty metal forks that he grabbed from the dishwasher during the .3 seconds that my back was turned still exist after I take them away, and he lest me know just how unhappy that makes him. Luckily, he doesn't have the endurance he will have later, so for now he only screams for 30 seconds or so before forgiving me. <br />
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Now that he has discovered that he can move around, he's discovered how frustrating it is when he CANT get somewhere. And, oh, the tears. The giant crocodile tears that erupt when we are preventing him from going where he wants. Sad, sad baby.<br />
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Until 30 seconds later when he's happy again. Toddlers are pretty bipolar.<br />
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The thing is, I actually really prefer this. He is sooo much more fun now! We can play games now, instead of just me playing a game in front of him. He's an active participant now. I can see him learning things, and see how happy that makes him. And I trust that now it actually is happiness, instead of just not-hungriness. <br />
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And now that he's not nursing every 2 hours, I can enjoy a beer whenever I want. And since I went a couple years without much drinking, just one beer is enough to get me feeling a little happy.<br />
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It's awesome.<br />
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And I swear I'll write more later, I just didn't really feel like writing right now, but also felt like I sorta should. Every little bit helps, right? </div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-4669268324451043362014-01-30T15:55:00.001-08:002014-01-30T15:55:56.211-08:00"Wine makes me reflective" or "This is Perfection"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The sun is almost too hot. It's making my legs feel all tingly and prickly and so vey close to itchy, but not quite there yet. If it weren't for the glass of cold Chardonnay (some California winery I'd never heard of that was on sale for $10.99 at the local grocery store), and the lanai above shading my body and head, I might be uncomfortable. Either way, I probably should put some on some sun screen, at least an SPF 15 (to prevent wrinkles, obviously, as I've been blessed with skin that only rarely burns), but I'm not going to. Living on the wild side. The waves are starting to pick up, still small enough that they'd be good to swim in if it weren't for the coral shelf. I'm not all that surprised to see people snorkeling. It's got to be pretty bad, not nearly clear enough and personally I hate snorkeling when there's waves, all the up and down gets me faintly motion sick. Tourists. Despite it being (by Hawaii standards) terrible, they persist, and probably have a grand time. Good for them. Up on my 2nd floor lanai (or 3rd floor depending on how you count it) I can't see any fish, but I can see the island of Lanai'i and bits of Molokai when the wind blows just right. I've been watching the water hangs colors all day. This morning when I got up to nurse Maxwell (at 6:30, despite him not sleeping at all last night) it was a pale peach color, streaked with silvers and links and only hints of blue. As the morning wore on, the silver took over the peach, and then the blue took over the silver. Now it's a deep sapphire, except on the crests of the waves. The waves have stirred up enough sand and coral and little bits of the other stuff that makes up the ocean (besides the water, I mean), that they are green. Not the algae green of Carpinteria, but the bright tropical green of, well, a tropical island. Which is only suiting, given that I am on one. I've got endless books on my kindle, and a couple physical books, too. Maxwell is finally napping (hopefully for at least an hour), and joe went inside to read, which of course means he's napping as well. I found it somewhat amusing that I still had to hop on a plane and rent a car and book a hotel room to get the Hawaii that so many people assume I live in everyday. That's ok though. Even if I dont get to feel that perfect almost too hot sun and watch the whales leaping out off sapphire water all while reading a good book and sipping perfectly acceptable Chardonnay, I will still enjoy it without resenting that this isn't my normal life. After all, it would be much harder to appreciate if this became my "ordinary."</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-11197161724611793182014-01-26T17:31:00.005-08:002014-01-26T17:31:54.078-08:00The Itch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As you all know, I love reading. When I was a kid, I spent a large percentage of my days up in a tree, or curled under a blanket, or even walking around reading. I remember one year in elementary school we had some kind of contest to see who could read the most. I read more than everyone else combined. The teacher thought I cheated (I think this was 4th grade? Maybe 5th?). <br />
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I didn't. I just loved books. I still do. Books are great. The entire universe can be found within their pages. They aren't confined by reality either. So when I say the whole universe, I mean everything, real or imagined. Past, present, or future. Things that definitely did happen, maybe could conceivably happen, and things so crazy and defying all logic and physics that within a book is the only place to find them. I both love and hate that about books. They are so big, it's easy to get lost in them. Sometimes this is a good thing. All my favorite books are ones that I've gotten lost in. <br />
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But that's the tricky part. You get lost. So what happens when you put the book down? Where are you? If you're like me, you're not quite sure. For lack of a better term, I call this feeling itchy, because I really don't know a better way to put it. It's not uncomfortable enough to be called painful, but it sure isn't pleasant either. Grand epics take place in books. Even ones that are only about a relationship or book store or friendship or whatever. They're all wonderful stories. And you get lost in them. So lost that sometimes, when you stop reading, it's hard to remember where you are now, what you're supposed to be doing, and what your life is like. <br />
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It's so easy to put down a book and say "Awesome! Now I want to go on my grand adventure!" But real life adventures never feel like the ones in books. I recently got married, moved to Hawaii, and had a baby. I travel nearly constantly. I'm busy teaching myself how to cook, and trying to teach the baby how to turn into a good person. These are adventures. When we go out for a walk we never know what we'll see. Sometimes it's something obnoxious (like the group of kids who all got pellet guns for Christmas and have been hanging out in our cup-de-sac (which is different from most, as I have to drive through it to get to our house) shooting at the trees, lizards, and each other), sometimes it's something beautiful (like the tiniest baby day gecko I'd ever see, or the amazing patterns the clouds get while being whipped around by the trade winds), but those walks are my daily adventure. <br />
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It's just, sometimes they don't feel like it. Sometimes when I put a book down, my world feels so very small, so very repetitive and ordinary and boring. I feel trapped. This feeling only intensifies when I think about the fact that I am on a pretty small island in the middle of a large ocean, and leaving the island requires hundreds of dollars and planning and packing and time and energy. <br />
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It's the energy that's so hard to come by. Everyone has the same amount of time, so when I look at people who are my age and are Accomplishing things, people who are Adventurous, people who are Important, I wonder how on earth they managed to get all that done when I was barely able to do a load of laundry. My theory is that these people were just born with more energy. I only have the energy for so much activity in one day, and today we had to go to Target. No starting an exciting new business or learning to paint or saving the world for me. I just need some dish detergent. <br />
<br />
I was talking about this to my dear friend and she asked a very valid question that I realized that I didn't have an answer for. She asked "Do you want to squelch the itch or scratch it?" I don't know. I know that I love the space that's found in books, and that after reading, I feel a keen sense of loss that I don't have it, but would I rather that sense be gone and I can live my ordinary life happily, or that I actually do go on some grand adventure? Honestly, do I even want either of those? The first requires such ignorance, the second so much work. And I really am happy with my ordinary life. I understand that my life is far more exciting than a lot of people's, too. It's just that, after being exposed to something so much bigger and grander, it sorta makes me feel itchy, you know?</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-52188666008659669792014-01-10T15:20:00.000-08:002014-01-10T15:20:17.695-08:00Dare To Dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ok, this is a quick one.<br />
<br />
I just opened a Dove chocolate (with caramel, yum!) and inside the saying was "Dare to Dream." Dare to Dream is a stupid saying. It really, really is. We all dream. Whether we want to or not. Often when we're unconscious (how daring!), but I would wager my car that at least 95% of us daydream too. It doesn't require any effort to dream. It doesn't risk anything. The saying should be "Dare to ACT on your dreams." Which is still usually wrong, I know most of my dreams are ludicrous, but at least then it would be a teensy bit inspiring. Dreaming of being a writer? That doesn't mean jack until you start writing. Dreaming of climbing a mountain? That won't make your feet move. Dreaming of becoming a great chef? Then stop making ramen for lunch everyday! We all dream. That is not impressive or daring or worth mentioning in a Dove chocolate wrapper. But not everyone does anything about their dreams.<br />
<br />
Rant over.</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-1496134859568947942013-07-17T12:04:00.002-07:002013-07-17T12:04:56.423-07:00Things I want<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A list, in no particular order, of things that I really, really, really want.<br />
<br />
We'll start with the most urgent one. I want to sleep in until 7am. That's all. That's not asking too much, right? It's not like I'm saying I want to get to spend a lazy day in bed where I only get up to get coffee or go pee. Just, to sleep, glorious, glorious sleep, until 7am. This whole 5am nonsense? Yeah, the kid needs to knock that off immediately. Especially on days when Joe has to go in to work early and can't take him downstairs for an hour while I try to close my eyes again.<br />
<br />
I would also like a magic wand that I can wave over the floor and make all the ants disappear. "Now, Susie," I can hear you saying, "they do make things that do that. Brooms and vacuums and such." The thing is, I sweep the kitchen floor every morning. I have to. Because otherwise I'd step on thousands on dead, dying, or somewhere in between ants just to get to the coffee machine. And dammit, I need coffee. I'm not including that on the list because that's a need, not a want, and it's a need that I actually do get, so yay! But the ants have got to go. Have you ever lived anywhere that's infested with anything? It's the worst. We have spray and gel and pellets and even special chalk that we're using to try to get these damn things under control, but there's only so much you can do, especially with cats who like to do things like lick walls and eat bits of... stuff.... off the floor. We've asked our landlord about getting someone professional in here to take care of it, but being typical Sam, has asked that we give the ortho home defense stuff another week or so to see if it works first. Whatever. We need Dale's Dead Bug!<br />
<br />
A day with a high of 75. I'm sure a lot of people can sympathize on this one. And I'm sure a lot of people are like "what the heck? At least it's only 85 where you are!" To them, I say, Yes. It is only 85. It was 85 today, it was 85 yesterday, and it will be 85 tomorrow. And it's also humid. And sticky. And OMG for once I want to feel cool air in my lungs that hasn't had all the moisture stripped out from the air conditioner that we can't even run because $300 electric bills are so not ok. I got so spoiled in Pacific Grove with it's nice cool weather. Lots of people complained about that, but I loved it. And anytime I wanted it to be hot? Easy peasy! All I had to do was drive 20 mins north or east to get completely different weather. It was awesome. I miss it.<br />
<br />
You know how sometimes it's so great to be able to get into your car and drive somewhere different? We don't get to do that. Stupid island. I mean sure, we can drive to the other side of the island, but that's not the same thing. I want to actually go somewhere, not just drive in circles.<br />
<br />
And last, but certainly not least, I want a really awesome supportive husband. The kind of guy who tells me how much he loves me all throughout the day. The one who texts "It's so hard to leave in the morning when Maxwell's being all cute and smiley!" and who can tell by the look on my face when he walks through that door that tonight, we are having frozen pizza for dinner and that's totally ok, and not only that, but once I finish feeding the baby he offers to go get me a nice cold beer. Of course, I totally have this one, so yay! End on a positive note! Although I really wish my awesome husband and I could sleep in until 7, then get up and make coffee in our clean kitchen, to spend a lovely day driving with the cool breeze blowing to somewhere different.</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-23062317677948476472013-07-01T13:04:00.002-07:002013-07-01T13:04:54.598-07:00Easy baby vs. crying baby<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I do not have an easy baby. I was soo hoping I would, and at times, he's great. Like whenever there's someone here to help. The week Mom and Dad were here? Perfect happy angel! Ok, true, the first day my grandmother was here he definitely wasn't on his best behavior, but generally, he's good. When it's just us? I should post a picture of all the scratches he's given me while completely hysterical. He now spends more than half his waking hours crying (and the other half on the verge of tears), and only naps in the morning. I find myself looking at him, more than a little scared, like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any moment. We take turns walking around with him, patting his back, whispering soothing words in his ear, while the other person tries to eat or sit down or go to the bathroom. When he's crying because he's hungry or has a dirty diaper or even just because he's not in the exact position he wants to be, it's ok. We know there's a reason, and even if the solution is something we can't do (like hold him over our shoulder with one arm and pat his back with our other, while pacing the living room, for hours), we understand. But when we have no idea? Or he's just tired? God, that is so frustrating!! All we want is for him to be happy, and when we can't make him happy (or at least quiet, let's be honest, when we're ready for bed we start feeling a little selfish and we just want him to Be Quiet!), it's heartbreaking!<br />
<br />
But before you get all worried about me feeling overwhelmed or something, let me assuage your concerns! Because all that, all the crying and frustrations and lack of sleep, it's all ok. He makes it ok everytime he looks up at me and his whole body lights up in a huge smile. I say body, because seriously, he manages to smile with his toes. He can't talk yet, he can't even really laugh, but when he smiles like that he's so clearly saying "Mom! You are the most amazing person ever and you make me so happy! I love you!" And thats just about the best feeling ever. Even when he's crying he's telling me how much he loves me. Well, sometimes anyway. Not so much when he's flipping out and is ll tense and scratching me, but when he's on my shoulder and is gripping my arm like it's the only thing he needs, I like that. It feels like even though he's upset, he's relying on me and trusts that I'll make it better. Or right now! You'll have to forgive the typos, because I'm typing this one handed. In the other hand, all curled up and sweet, is a napping baby. The hard moments make the good ones all the more sweeter and appreciated.<br />
<br />
Like I said, he is not an easy baby, and I really hope my next one is easier (all this practice soothing a crying baby has to be good for something, right?), but I wouldn't change him for anything! Even if I am awfully hungry right now, but there's no way i'm gonna disturb him to get some food...</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-41204588421189949202013-05-25T11:11:00.000-07:002013-05-25T11:11:40.852-07:00To be fair, ceiling fans are pretty cool<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today is an exciting day! We're going to try to give Maxwell a bottle for the first time. I don't know why he wouldn't take it, and once he does that means I can start having Joe feed him sometimes, which will be awesome! I figure I should probably still wake up in the middle of the night and pump when Joe feeds him then, because otherwise I might explode in a milky mess, but that only takes like 15 mins, as opposed to the hour or so that it takes to feed him (the actual feeding part only takes 15 mins, but first I have to wake him up, change his diaper, convince him to please, for the love of God, OPEN YOUR MOUTH BABY!!!!, and then work up enough energy to carry him back to our room to go bed (which usually takes at least 10 mins, although at least by then he's pretty well passed out)). So we'll see how it goes.<br />
<br />
We bought a swing yesterday. I think he likes it? He's still too young to smile, so it can be hard to tell when he's happy. He was calm though, which I guess works. He still didn't really look at the mobile, which surprised us. His most favorite thing ever is the ceiling fan. It doesn't even have to be on. When he gets fussy we can usually just lay him on his back underneath it and once he catches sight of it he'll just stop, totally transfixed, and stare at it like it's the most amazing thing he's ever seen. I can't wait until he's old enough to start actually playing though. I want to see him smile and hear him laugh and all that fun stuff!<br />
<br />
Muna left a couple days ago. She was only here for a few days, but it was really nice. I honestly didn't think having another person here would make that much of a difference, since I'm the only one who can feed him (although that might change after today!), and he eats every hour-2 hours during the day, but it was actually pretty great. He was the most cranky, crying, screamy baby we'd seen yet the first day she was here though. I kinda felt bad... I swear, he's not normally that bad! Normally he's totally happy during the day, and then gets cranky in the evening, which just requires that we give him a lot more attention (which does make cooking and eating a little tricky), and then has a little freak out right before bed, but that first day she was here, he would not stop crying. Ugh. We did almost manage to successfully go out to eat though! It probably would've been completely successful if the place we went to wasn't sooooo slow. After waiting 15 mins for our drinks, I told them to go ahead and bring our food out to go, which was a good idea. He was pretty starving by the time it came. The food was good though. <br />
<br />
I think I say "though" and "which" too much on here. Maybe I'll work on that.... It's probably more fun to read a blog that's written better. I mean, I know I'm just to incredibly fascinating that you'll want to read about my life regardless of how poorly written it is, but just think of how much better it'd be if it was actually well written! That'd be even more amazing than a ceiling fan!</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-80160865033939916132013-05-22T11:30:00.001-07:002013-05-22T11:30:28.928-07:00He's a month old today!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How has it already been a month? Didn't I just get home from the hospital yesterday? Every day he changes too. One day he was all floppy bobble head, now he can hold it up very well. He's focusing on our eyes now, instead of just some random area in front of him. He's starting to turn his head to follow ours and is eating and napping more regularly. All normal baby things, but it's pretty fun to watch how quickly he's growing up. We're still waiting for the first real smile. Babies are so much more fun when they interact with you!<br />
<br />
Anyway, I wanted to assure everyone that we're doing great here! Obviously it's an adjustment, but we're happy. I'm getting a lot more sleep than most new moms get, which is awesome, although I didn't get much last night. But then Joe took him downstairs at 6 and let me sleep until 7:30, which was sooo nice. So I feel relatively human. :)<br />
<br />
I swear I had lots of things I wanted to talk about on here... I kinda can't think of anything though. Hmm. My neighbor dropped off a bag of mangos from his mom's yard, so I think I'll just go eat one of those. Maybe the sugar will spark a creative writing streak!</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-31180603587887049652013-05-09T12:28:00.004-07:002013-05-09T12:28:56.760-07:00All about baby<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday we had to Maxwell to his two week appointment, and the nurse practitioner mentioned how every visit they'll give us a paper with all his "stats" (length, weight, etc) and how it's great for the baby book. Then she laughed and commented on how the book for the first baby is always the best, but then the later kids don't ever get one that's filed out. I told her that we hadn't even written his name in his book yet, but she kept going on about the first baby book is the best. I think she wasn't really listening too well. That's ok though, it's not like we need a medical professional to actually listen to us! She wasn't even the pediatrician, who we never actually met, even after being told "the Doctor will be in in just a couple minutes" and then waiting over half an hour, which wouldn't have been a super huge deal, except that Maxwell was hungry, so he was crying and we were waiting to feed him because the Doc was supposed to be right in. My point being, we were already a little annoyed at the NP when she started talking about the baby book. I will try to fill the thing out though! And while I'm at it, maybe we should print some pictures of him, so we have actual hard copies! Or, hey, print pictures from our wedding, because we still don't have any. I mean, we have hem on the flash drive, but we never got our book, and haven't printed any out yet, and since we've been married over a year, that really seems like the kind of thing we should have done by now....<br />
<br />
Anyway. Maxwell's two weeks old! Actually, two weeks and one day, but whatever, two weeks is close enough. I'm really looking forward to him being old enough to take bottles, because then I can make Joe get up and feed him occasionally, and I can get some sleep. I miss sleep... And for some weird reason I thought that after I gave birth I'd only being one person again, but that was awfully naive. He's still pretty attached to me. I feel bad, because he's definitely calmer with me than with Joe, and as Joe points out, most of the time when he's crying there's literally nothing he can do to help, that's all me. I think he feels a little left out. But I've started pumping, so soon enough Joe will get to help with feeding, and that should help everything, right? Joe is way better than me at playing with him though. I'm pretty positive that he's going to smile for him first. All he does with me is sleep and eat, Joe's already the "fun" parent, which is ok. It's very cute to watch.<br />
<br />
We are doing pretty well though. The past two mornings he's thrown up pretty violently, but I think that's kinda normal. He just eats too much in the morning. But again, pumping should help with that, cuz then I wont be as full. Of course, I could be totally wrong about that, cuz I am totally making this all up as I go along, but isn't that what every parent does?<br />
<br />
Speaking of which, when do I start feeling like an actual parent? Right now it feels more like I have an exceptionally needy pet, not like I'm a mother and he's my son. I guess it just hasn't hit me yet?<br />
<br />
We haven't really sarted using the cloth diapers yet. We're planning on it, but right now he's just going through too many, and they look so huge on him! Disposable's are easy, but they do get expensive awfully quickly. Maybe for now we'll just use the cloth ones at night, when I'm not changing them as often?<br />
<br />
Some local friends came over to meet him yesterday. He was being a perfect angel while they were here, then started screaming about an hour after they left, and didn't stop until we got him to sleep at 8. 9? uh... Sometime around them, I don't remember. I passed out shortly after him. <br />
<br />
Good times!</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-78776182660527692052013-04-25T12:21:00.000-07:002013-04-25T12:21:01.914-07:00All the gory details (feel free to skip over this if you don't like gory details)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So after 40 weeks and 3 days, I finally had a baby! Just about the only thing that I knew about childbirth was that you can't really predict how it's going to go down, so trying to plan for it seemed awfully silly to me. Unfortunately, you kinda can't help but make some assumptions, and just about every one I made ended up being wrong. Like I sorta assumed I would labor quickly, after all, everyone else in my family did, how unfair would it be if I was the only one who didn't? And I assumed it would all go smoothly without any major complications, because we all always assume that. I do anyway. It's too scary and stressful to assume otherwise. I assumed that I would do the whole skin-to-skin thing right after giving birth, because I'd read about how great it is for you and the baby (especially the baby), and it's something my hospital really pushes. I assumed I'd donate the cord blood, because I'm a nice person like that. Even filled out the 15 page form and everything!<br />
<br />
Yeah, none of that happened.<br />
<br />
I already talked about how I was a little overdue going into labor anyway, but I didn't go too far, and I didn't need an induction, so that was good. It all started at about 9pm on Sunday. My head had literally just hit the pillow when I started getting... wet. Gross. So I grab a towel, get Joe, and off we go! When we got to the hospital they laughed when I said that my water had broke, and all gave each other knowing looks and told me "yeah.... you're the fourth tonight!" I thought that meant that they were super busy, but then when the Doc checked me he was like "Oh! This is a real one!" so I guess they'd been having false alarms all night. By this point my contractions had started. They were very uncomfortable, but not super bad. Until they told me that I was still only a centimeter dilated. I was admitted, whisked into the l&d room, and decided to go ahead with the epidural because they were getting to the point where they were right on top of each other, and I was sooo not looking forward to several more hours of that.<br />
<br />
So things keep going. Joe and I tried to doze off when we could. Talked when we felt more awake. Nurses and Doc's came and went. By 5:30 I was finally 9 cm! Woo! The epidrual was starting to wear off, and they offered to give me some more, and I say yes, so they call for the anesthesiologist. But one of the Doc's thought something looked a little weird. And then suddenly, Doctors! Nurses! Techs! Everyone! Rushes into my room and checks machines and stares at me (well, a part of me) very intently and argues and orders drugs and suddenly I'm getting a shot in the arm because my contractions are happening so quickly that baby's heart rate wasn't able to recover, and was getting very low, so they needed to stop the labor from progressing so he could rest. Not that they told me any of this at the time, mind you. I'm just laying there wondering what the hell is going on and getting more and more scared as the minutes go by. It wasn't until everyone but my regular nurse had left that she was able to talk to me. And of course, explain that I can't get more pain meds because of the other shot they'd given me.<br />
<br />
Awesome.<br />
<br />
It starts to get a little fuzzy after that. Much pain. Followed by more. Followed by feeling like someone had shot an arrow through my hip and back and it got stuck there. Followed by the most unfair thing ever- throwing up while having a contraction. That was when I started crying. I hate throwing up under the best of circumstances, but while my insides are twisting and there's a giant stick jammed in my back? Nope, not doing that. I swear to God, if I could've talked I would've said something to the effect of "I give up, I'm not doing this anymore," despite how impossible that is. It's probably a good thing that I wasn't able to say that, because I'm pretty sure I would've decked the nurse (or Joe) for telling me that giving up wasn't really an option at that point.<br />
<br />
Finally by 11 I was able to start pushing! Woo! By this point I'd been at the hospital for 13 hours, and had been at 9 cm for 6. So I start to push. And I keep pushing. And they keep saying positive, helpful things to me while I was pushing, and then telling me how he wasn't moving when the contractions subsided. After.... uh... an hour? An hour and a half? A midwife comes in to check on me and despite the fact that 3 other doctors and a few nurses had checked and said all was fine, she notices that the baby's facing the wrong way- sideways, instead of facing my spine. So she turns him and finally at 1:... 13? 16? I feel like I should know that. 1:16 I think, he was born. Yay!<br />
<br />
Yeah, I so didn't care. All the pain meds had worn off, I was beyond exhausted, there was something said about meconium and the cord and there were pediatricians there and all I wanted was the anesthesiologist to come back and give me meds. At one point I think they did actually offer to let me hold him and I, very polity I'm sure, declined. After I got my meds though, I looked over and saw the look on Joe's face while he was watching them cleaning him up and felt a lot better. It wasn't until later that I learned that the cord was wrapped around his neck during the delivery. Some things might be better left unsaid, especially to an already freaking out and exhausted woman who only cares about getting through this horrible ordeal.<br />
<br />
He's fine now though. :) And I'm feeling much better. Well, sorta. He didn't sleep at all last night, which meant that I didn't sleep at all last night (Joe was able to get a little bit of rest downstairs while I was up with baby because we need one of us to be able to drive to the Doc's appt today), so I made myself some coffee. And NOW he sleeps. All peaceful and quiet. And even though I'm still exhausted, I can't sleep with fresh caffeine in my system. <br />
<br />
And that's why I wrote this big long blog.<br />
<br />
You're welcome.</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-31406108988703513942013-04-18T13:55:00.002-07:002013-04-18T13:55:42.198-07:00I can't believe I'm still pregnant!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ok, first of all, FU to blogger to making it so freaking hard for me to get to this page, just because I made a new email account with my "new" last name. The one I've had for over a year. For some stupid reason, I can't figure out how to add myself (as the new address) as a contributer to the blog. And as I was writing that, it just signed me out of my "new" email address (that I've been using for several months, text me or something if you want it but don't have it) and automatically signed me into my old one. *bangs head into wall* I might just give up on this blog and start a whole new one.<br />
<br />
Also- mac people- is there any way to right click with the mouse pad on the computer? I got the actual mouse set up to right click, but then it died, so I only have the touch pad mouse thingie, and being able to right click is very helpful when writing cuz then I can fix spelling errors easily. So, you know, sorry for all the errors in this one, I may go back and fix them, but I may not. I'm sure you wont think of less me.<br />
<br />
Today is April 18, 2013. It is supposed to mark the end of my pregnancy. It's only 10:30, so it still could. There's still plenty of time for today to be my son's birthday. The thing is though, it somehow never really occurred to me that I'd still be pregnant today. I mean sure, I said that I knew I could be late going into labor. Rationally, I knew that the whole "due date" thing is just the middle of the time when babies normally come, so it's not like it's some hard and fast rule. I knew that lots of people go into labor a few days, or even weeks after this day. And yet, in the back of my mind, I always knew that none of those silly little "facts" were relevant and that I'd give birth early! That by today not only would I already have a baby, I'd probably already be home. It still scares me too that everytime I look in the mirror, I swear my stomach is bigger. He can't seriously still be gaining weight, can he? At my last 5 or so doctor's appointments either the doctor or the nurse has commented on how I'm "all belly," and really, I feel like I am. Not just how they meant it (one went on to clarify that my pregnant body looks pretty much like a normal, not pregnant body, except for the belly and the baby and not much else is different), but like I'm seriously all belly. There's nothing else. Just this giant stomach with this squirming and kicking and hiccuping person inside of it.<br />
<br />
So I've been walking a lot. Even when I'm not walking around the block, or to go "check the mail" for the 5th time, despite the fact that I got the mail the first time, I'm pacing. I'm wandering around the house. I'm investigating every leaf on my cilantro and basil plants (and cursing the existance of white flies, which technically, btw, aren't even flies, and are immune to even the strongest pesticides, and really like to kill all my plants because they're evil bastards and I hate them) and talking to the lizards that live around our house. I'm drinking a ton of water, because that's what you're supposed to do, and the bathrooms are upstairs, so that makes me have to walk up and down the stairs a few dozen times a day, and I figure, that's good for me, right? Loosen up my pelvis or something? Everyone says that he'll come when he's ready, but that seems silly to me. It's not him who we're waiting for, it's my uterus! So it's my fault that I'm still pregnant! Ugh.<br />
<br />
I also feel like I've become really, really boring. For the last several months my life has been all about waiting for this new life to be born, and not much else. It's been over a year since I've had a job. I don't see myself getting one anytime soon either. I'd like to go back to work, I feel like I'll go crazy if I don't, but we'll see. Right now, living here, it's not really an option. I'm kinda hoping that once I have a baby, I wont want to work so badly. I do have a friend here with a toddler (15 months, that counts as a toddler, right?), but lately it's kinda too hard to hang out with her, since it's so hard for me to move, or be more than 10 feet away from the bathroom at any given time. And I can't really go anywhere, because I need to be ready to go to the hospital on a moments notice. Well, probably not a moment's notice, I'll probably have several hours of notice, but I'd rather spend those hours at home with my husband and my cats and my comfy couch and bed. <br />
<br />
I can say with a fair amount of certainty that though, that the next time I update this (or give up and make a new blog), I'll be a mother. Which is such a scary thought.... Maybe it's ok that he's taking his time...</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-55983254112543198382013-01-01T18:59:00.003-08:002013-01-01T18:59:55.990-08:00I'm not fat, I'm pregnant!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Oh yeah, the other thing I was going to post! I weighed myself this morning and yay! I weigh more than I ever have before! :-/ It's a weird feeling. Hard not to go running straight for the stationary bike and peddle like my life depends on it. Especially because I know I still need to gain another 15-20 pounds. As long as it's mostly just my stomach (well, uterus, but yeah) and hips, that's ok, but I don't want to get flabby arms and legs! I just keep reminding myself that it's all for baby, and that as long as I stay active and eat well, I shouldn't have too much trouble losing the extra pounds. Maybe I should stop making so many cookies though... And I might not have <i>needed</i> all that 75% off Christmas candy, but it was so cheap! Milky Way snowmen! Lindt chocolate bears! M&M's that are just regular M&Ms except with festive packaging! All so cheap! And yummy! And I had to eat that leftover pie before it went bad! I'm only about 6-7 pounds more than I was when I got pregnant, but I did lose several pounds during those first few months, so really I've gained over 10 pounds in the past month, which is more than I should have. Maybe it's time to go walk to the mailbox.... and maybe I should get there by going down the beach and all the way around the neighborhood....</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-27039675081533100962013-01-01T18:31:00.003-08:002013-01-01T18:31:55.763-08:00New Years festivities, vacations, vacuums, and probably not poisonous mushrooms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I keep trying to post on facebook, but then realize that I have a whole paragraph, so I figured maybe facebook isn't actually the best spot for my thoughts, because apparently, I have many, many thoughts. What can I say? I'm a thoughtful person (that's totally what thoughtful means, right?).<br />
<br />
So, thought number one- Holy crap people here get really excited about New Years!! I have never heard such a loud, sustained celebration as I did last night. People were literally running up and down the streets screaming at the top of their lungs. Kids were setting off poppers and those little fireworks that you just put on the ground (you know what I'm talking about, right? The kind that you just light and then a bunch of lights shoots up a few feet? Not like real fireworks... hm.) from about 9am until 1am, and no, that's not a typo. They didn't wait for it to get dark to start lighting stuff on fire. We could hear all the really big explosions from the resorts all night, several of which actually shook our house. Luckily, the cats handled it a lot better than I thought they would. They didnt really like all the loud noises, but they were so happy that my parents were gone that they didn't mind too much.<br />
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And that brings me to thought number two! All last week my parents were here. It was pretty great, cuz it was a nice vacation for us as well as for them. We got to do all kinds of fun stuff, like checking out the huge waves in the North Shore and watching the surfers and boogie boarders (the boogie boarders looked like they were having waaaaayyyy more fun), snorkeling out in K-Bay, whale watching at Kaena Point, we even managed to sneak a luau in there. I don't think we did a very good job of showing why we don't like it here, but that's ok. That wasn't really the point, after all. <br />
<br />
We just ordered a new vacuum! We only had the little electric one, and that wasn't really doing it's job. We needed a sucky vacuum! We'd been looking at them for awhile, but didn't really want to spend all the money on a nice one yet (seriously, nice vacuums are way more expensive than I'd realized. actually, pretty much everything in life is more expensive than I'd thought...), but then we saw the Dyson Animal on Bestbuy for $270 off. I hate to plug a big retailer like that, especially one as annoying as Best Buy, but they had the same one for sale at the Nex and it was still $100 more. That's some pretty exciting savings! And even without having to pay all the insane hospital and doctor fees, having a baby is expensive! Right now we have the stroller, the adapter for the car seat to fit in the stroller (although we dont have the car seat yet, we can only get a few certain kinds, and they were out), a breast pump, a changing table, a rocking sleeper thingie, and a handful of clothes. We dont have any onesies, or diapers, or a crib, or a dresser, or bedding, or.... I dunno, what else do we need? Gates... I know we need gates to block off the areas we don't want the kid going. Like the wine racks. Also, I need a new computer (not everything is about the baby). It's a good thing that my wonderful husband is about to get a raise! Is it too early for me to be thinking about going back to work? We were talking about setting up something for a college fund, and then of course started talking about things like retirement, and we're gonna need a down payment for a house and the car needs some body work and eek! <br />
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Next week is my last week of my second trimester. We're about to be completely responsible for a tiny human's life. Scary. <br />
<br />
In a couple weeks we have our site leader training class for a whale watching thing we're doing. We wont be going out onto a boat, just watching from shore, but we'll have about 20 people or so that we'll be leading to help us write down when we see the whales, what they're doing, how many they are, etc. Should be fun. Then after that I want to do a turtle thing, where to write down all of the above, and also just hang out at the beach answering questions and talking to tourists. With the sudden life change that's about to happen, I'm not sure how much time I'll have to do that, but they said they only ask that you volunteer once or twice a month, which should be doable. And after you prove that you actually are going to show up, they give you a bunch of books on sea turtles, which sounds pretty dang good to me! I'll just need to figure out what to do with the baby while I'm out there.... Hmm. <br />
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We have a crazy mushroom growing in the backyard, and I'm pretty sure it's one of the really yummy good to eat kinds (based on my mushroom ID book, and the internet), but I'm still not going to actually try it. I should take some pics though... It's pretty cool looking. </div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-1038536667904022912012-12-21T16:07:00.003-08:002012-12-21T16:07:50.309-08:00Talking to my past self.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A few days ago, I was watching tv... or reading an article... maybe it was a commercial? about going back in time and giving advice to your younger self. So then I started thinking about what I would tell myself. I've certainly made my fair share of mistakes, and experienced plenty of pain, wouldn't it be great if I could avoid all that? If I could prepare myself for Aiden's death? Save up enough money to NOT have to move to that crappy apartment on Soranno ave? The more I though about it, though, the more I realized that I really didn't want to do any of that. Nothing that I could have said then, or could say now, makes Aiden's death any easier or more fair or less traumatic. Nothing was going to make that be all better. And I know I wouldn't want to have changed how I treated him, like he was different from the other kids, or more fragile or (god forbid) try to distance myself from him so it wouldn't hurt as badly. As for the mistakes that I've made in my life, it's really hard to sit back now and wish that I hadn't done them. If I hadn't settled and dated someone that I knew wasn't right for me for so long, I wouldn't have realized what's really important to me in a relationship. Hell, what's really important in life! Struggling with finances is how I learned how to be more responsible with money. Living by myself in a crappy apartment taught me how to be independent and how to throw myself into what I'm passionate about. Moving to Monterey (even though I totally couldn't afford it) forced me out of my comfort zone. I had to go be social, even when that was kinda scary, because I needed to make friends. I had to ask for help when I knew I really needed it, and accept it graciously. Living with Carina and Lesley taught me how to be a better roommate (something I'm sure my husband is appreciating). If I had prevented myself from screwing up, would I still be here? Would I know what I do? Would I be the same person? I really don't know, and that's far scarier than living off ramen for a few months. I like where I am; I like who I am. Ok, so obviously I can't tell myself any specific advice, because there's no way I'd risk not being here, now, but what about more general advice? I thought maybe I could just tell myself not to worry, because it'll all be ok in the end. The thing is though, I was always <i>mostly </i>sure that it would, so then I'd just be telling myself something that I already knew, which seems like a waste of time travel. Even if could remove that last lingering "what if?" doubt, I don't think I'd want to. Doing things that make you nervous and scared is part of becoming an adult. The only people out there who are completely sure that it'll be ok are the 5 year olds playing in the mud. What I finally came up with, what I do wish I had done more is to just try harder. Not even at anything specific, just in general. Try to be a better employee. Try to keep my frogs healthier. Try to write more often. I think the extra struggle that I'd give myself would have helped me out a lot. When I was living in Pacific Grove I was a waitress and an amateur herpetologist. Not huge claims to fame, I know, but that's who I was. It's what I spent most of my days on (when I wasn't out running around Big Sur with the boy). Moving here, both of those ended, and I realized that I didn't have a whole lot else going on. I don't mean to say that I'm less of a person, or anything like that, but I didn't realize just how much my personal identity was tied with what I do, and not having anything to do was really hard. It would've been easier if I was better at doing things that I'm not good at. It all seems so silly and common sense! I like writing, so why not write more blogs? I like being outside, so why not go for more walks during the day? I like science, so why not read more books? Somehow that never really occurred to me, so I'd sit at home, bored and getting depressed, because I had "nothing to do," which is just such bull! I have plenty to do! I just need to go out and actually do it! I'm not sure how much sense any of this is making, it seems awfully rambly to me, but eh. At least I wrote something? Besides, it's easy to get distracted when Futurama is on and the baby keeps kicking me. </div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-40462711185536783162012-12-13T18:54:00.004-08:002012-12-13T18:54:30.540-08:00Car alarms, cookies, and too many dirty dishes.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's one on every street. You're sitting back, enjoying a nice quiet afternoon (although to be honest, I was more sitting back, bored out of my skull and starting to get sleepy from it) when you hear the honking. It goes on, but only for a couple mins. You figure "hey, we've all accidently set off a car alarm before, no big deal!" Until 5 mins later, when it goes off again. Maybe it's someone's kids setting it off? That might excuse it, but shouldn't an adult have rectified the situation the first time? Again, no more than a couple minutes goes by before it's off, and again, it goes back on again. Seriously? By now you're really wondering, what on earth is going on? How do you accidently set off the alarm so many times? And by now, shouldn't you be faster at turning it off? Sadly, there are no answers. Eventually, the beeping will stop, and all will be quiet once more.<br />
<br />
Although that wasn't nearly as bad as the guy who let his motorcycle run for about 15 mins at 6 this morning, before finally driving away. Of course, this time we all know who it was. Yup, it was the cop who lives across the street and down 2 houses. One would think he'd be a little more considerate of noise and whatnot, but nope. Ugh.<br />
<br />
I went to make cookies today (peanut butter blossoms, I made some last week with a new recipe and they were really, really good, and I had some leftover kisses, so I figured I might as well make them again!), but there was a sink full of dirty dishes. Man! I didn't want to do chores! I just wanted some yummy goodness! It seems like that always happens too. Maybe I ought to be more on top of actually putting dishes in the dishwasher. And of course, I couldn't fit all the dishes in there. So there's still a half sink full. Well, ok, now there's a full sink full again, but that's including cookie mess. Somehow with this recipe I manage to use two different 1/2 cup measuring cups (that sounds really redundant....), a two cup pyrex dealie, all three different sized teaspoons, and another spoon for scooping out flour. Not to mention the mixing bowl and the blade on the mixer and the pans and the dish I use to set the unwrapped kisses.<br />
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Awesome cookies make it all worth it though.</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-389217542000808912012-12-09T15:01:00.001-08:002012-12-09T15:01:19.252-08:00My husband is crazy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ha, I just realized that my last two posts were about music. What can I say, music makes me have feelings and thoughts and if facebook and social networks have taught me anything, it's that everyone must know my thoughts and feelings because I am fascinating! <br />
<br />
Anywho. As you probably know, I am married to a guy who thinks that running for hours and hours is fun. Weird, I know. This makes him do things like sign up for marathons, even when he hasn't trained for one, and the longest he's ran in months was 'only' a half marathon. What you may not know is that in an attempt to be a supportive wife, I try to go with him to his races, even though I'll only see him for a few minutes at the start (sometimes, sometimes the start line is somewhere else and I don't actually go with him on the shuttle, I wait with the car at the finish line), and again at the finish line, which is always seriously anticlimactic. Some people run through the finish with their arms triumphantly raised, shouting and cheering and just so clearly proud of themselves. Some go through in obvious pain and you can see the relief they're feeling that it's finally over, but you can also tell how proud they are that they pushed through the pain and finished. I'm always more impressed with those people. My husband, though? He just jogs through, nods at me, I point to where the exit is, then meet him there with his bag and water. Then we wander around a bit so he can cool off and stretch. "How was it? You feeling ok?" "Yeah, it was fine, you want to drive home though? My hip is sore." That's usually about it. Because he didn't train for this one, he was definitely in rougher shape than normal, but even then, he was just concerned about getting his finishers shirt and medal (what's the point of running if you don't get the medal?) and getting away from the crowd (they had about 33,000 runners at today's race, plus all the support staff, friends and family, vendors, cops, etc). The thing is though, marathons take several hours. Even the really fast runners still take at least 2 and a half. And it's hot here. So they start early. Really early. We had to be at the parking lot by 3, so he could get on the shuttle, for the race that started at 5. That means we got to get up at 2am. At least I get to sleep in the car for a bit after he leaves, but still. Car sleep is not the same as real sleep. Clearly, I love the guy if I'm willing to get up at 2, drive for an hour to drop him off, then try to sleep in a car, all so I can watch him jog across an arbitrary line so he can get a cheap medal. <br />
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I'm gonna go take a nap. He's already pretty unconscious. </div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-24191741180779137652012-12-06T17:55:00.003-08:002012-12-06T17:55:58.290-08:00Christmas music tidings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I haven't had a job since I quit CPK in March. At first, I was too busy to notice, what with getting married, going on a 3 week honeymoon, moving to Hawaii, trying to find a place to live, flying back to CA for my sister's wedding, and then getting pregnant, but it's been long enough now. I'm bored. Deeply, deeply bored. I used to be all excited about having a baby because babies are cute and challenging and I want to grow and blah blah meaningful blah. Now I mostly can't wait for him to get here because taking care of him will give me something to do. I've even been a little busy today! I went to the DMV (or, satellite city hall as this state insists on calling them) to get a license, and that obviously took forever. And I went to Target to get milk and butter and stuff. And I went for a walk. And cleaned up cat poop that was somehow of the vertical side of one of the steps on our stairs (seriously, how do they even do that? It's not like it was smeared, there was just a glob of it, hanging there). But I'm beginning to be unable to tolerate more than 30 mins of non-activity I've started watching TV standing up and pacing. <br />
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Anyway, all that was just a long, rambling introduction to get to my actual point, which I've barely started. See, because I'm so bored, I also don't like quiet at much. So I've been playing music. There's really only one choice of music in December, Christmas music. Especially since nothing else here feels particularly Christmasy (I'm wearing shorts and a tank top and had to turn up the AC because it was getting too uncomfortable in here). The thing is, Christmas music can be... difficult. I don't mean difficult to find a good station (I mostly listen to Pandora) or at least something that's not just dogs barking or Mariah Carey, but it brings up lots of memories. Mostly good ones, but it's making me homesick! I just listened to Pachabel's Canon, followed by Carol of the Bells, and immediately, I was in my parent's kitchen. Kids are running around being crazy, and they keep letting the dogs in, even though we keep telling them that they have to stay outside. I'm helping with something food related, cutting veggies, or stirring sauce, or maybe just sitting on the counter with a glass of wine (something I seriously miss being pregnant btw, last night I told Joe he needed to open a bottle and kept stealing his glass from him just so I could smell it, and, ok, occasionally take small sips, but mostly I just love the smell of wine). My toes are cold because shoes are annoying to wear inside, even when it's cold out and the floor is downright icy, but my body is hot because obviously I'm wearing a sweater (it's cold out!). I've long since given up on having my hair styled in a cute way and have pulled it back from my face into a messy ponytail, and really I couldn't care less about how I look. No one here cares either. We're all family, right? Even if we're not actually blood related. And the best thing about family is not having to be at all self conscious. I miss having my family around. I mean, sure, my sister may drive me crazy sometimes, but isn't that what sisters are supposed to do? I really didn't intend for this to come off as depressing, I'm smiling as I'm writing it, I just thought it was interesting how music can cause such intense reactions. And hey, since I have nothing else to do, I might as well blog about it, right?</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-62230752195758881922012-01-19T20:53:00.000-08:002012-01-19T21:04:29.528-08:00Music and First ImpressionsI know it's been ages since I've posted, but tonight I've been thinking about something that is too long for facebook. Shocking, I know, that facebook may not always be the best way to communicate every thought.<div><br /></div><div>Anyhow, my cats have always like boys better than girls. Except for Fuzzy during the day, but that's just cuz she's crazy and is terrified of everyone other than me when the sun is up. Vampire cat. *ahem* Because they like boys, especially ones they know, it's pretty common that when I come home from work, or the two of us are watching tv (at the moment it's Ottawa vs. San Jose and we're LOSING!!!! AAAAGGGHHH!!!!) or whenever, at least one of the cats will be curled up in Joe's lap. And every single time, it reminds me of that line from the George Strait song- "She thinks I'm perfect and that I love her cat, but you know me better than that!" Now, I know that Joe really does like animals, and that he (mostly) really does like my cats, but I'm always a little curious. Does he REALLY like them? Or is he only pretending? Dammit! George Strait has poisoned me! </div><div><br /></div><div>But then that reminds me of something else. I dont know if everyone has a moment like this, but I distinctly remember the first time I actually listened to music. I mean, sure, there was always music in the background at the store, or on tv shows, and of course we'd all sing at church, but I never really paid attention to the fact that it was music. It was different from other forms of communication, and the melody and the mood and the instruments could convey as much meaning as the words themselves. That song, sitting in my parent's car, driving away from the music store, was Thunder Rolls by Garth Brooks. I'm not going to make any sort of hypothesis as to how that has affected me or my tastes in music, but I remember how dramatic it was and how it felt like desperation, even though at the time I didn't even know what the word desperation meant. </div><div><br /></div><div>And I almost hate to wrap up this way, which no real closing statement (my various English teachers would be so mad), but sometimes blogs dont have a point. Anticlimactic, I know. I was just thinking about music, and the music of my childhood, and felt a desire to share it. Feel free to share your early memories. Or don't. That's totally ok too. :)</div>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-60807200802992989702011-04-13T19:07:00.000-07:002011-04-13T19:16:44.280-07:00Go Sharks! Woo!I have no pics to post. Sad, I know, but I just don't really feel like posting pics. It's kinda a pain in the ass on here, and any pics I have are on facebook anyway, and since I'm friends with all of you on there too, it's just not worth it. <div><br /></div><div>*ahem*</div><div><br /></div><div>I haven't done much hiking lately. Actually, I haven't done any hiking at all since Death Valley. Unless you count walking around Whale Point in Garapata with Marc and Sonrisa, which I guess most people would, but I don't because I didnt even need a backpack, and if you can go "hiking" without any gear at all, it hardly counts as a hike. It was nice though. Lots of pretty irises and other flowers. No whales though. Hmm. Death Valley was fun though. We explored many canyons and climbed on lots of rocks and I made friends with lots of lizards and bugs and stuff. Didn't really make friends with any people though, which I think proves that I have my priorities straight. I do feel bad about making that raven gag though. Watching a raven trying to throw up is somewhat uncomfortable. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow is the first game of the playoffs! Woo! Go Sharks! We'll be there to see them beat the Kings. Last time we saw the two play we won 6-1, so I'm looking forward to seeing that again. During the regular season I like to watch games that are a little closer, but not during the playoffs. Ideally they'll be up for the cup against the Bruins, because that would be too much fun. We have a very nice bottle of Pinot Noir that we (he) splurged on and have decided that seeing the Sharks win would totally count as a special enough occasion to drink it, which just makes me want them to win even more. </div><div><br /></div><div>Also I'm going to Massachusetts at the end of June. Fun! </div>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7081765908143822786.post-33340531806977453842011-02-26T18:03:00.001-08:002011-02-26T18:08:16.837-08:00Newt crossing!<div>neat, Joe just handed me a thumb drive with some pics on it, so uh, read the post prior to this, and then look at the pics. Do as I command!! Or don't, whatever.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1WLzKKOcm7Q/TWmxZtBE85I/AAAAAAAAAZ8/PEXXLtx4N9o/s1600/005.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1WLzKKOcm7Q/TWmxZtBE85I/AAAAAAAAAZ8/PEXXLtx4N9o/s320/005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578184668614030226" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Newts!! Neato!! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xeY3IRge-Lo/TWmxW-u53mI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/0uovAYqVZ0M/s1600/004.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xeY3IRge-Lo/TWmxW-u53mI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/0uovAYqVZ0M/s320/004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578184621830037090" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I want to be a part of the ecological study.... I mean, not a part of it, but I want to be the one studying the ecology... Or something? I wanna run around the woods!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gtL03DfwyXw/TWmxTNjyN2I/AAAAAAAAAZs/o8sO9DI9qgw/s1600/003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gtL03DfwyXw/TWmxTNjyN2I/AAAAAAAAAZs/o8sO9DI9qgw/s320/003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578184557090453346" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Double rainbow from our bedroom balcony Sat morning. Pretty...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FE9cArdObUs/TWmxQDYRH-I/AAAAAAAAAZk/MYLzHxWVCpk/s1600/002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FE9cArdObUs/TWmxQDYRH-I/AAAAAAAAAZk/MYLzHxWVCpk/s320/002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578184502818185186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me after wine tasting on Friday on Cannery Row.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tvXTSIXp9Ic/TWmxLXGihDI/AAAAAAAAAZc/UstPhpICBgY/s1600/001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tvXTSIXp9Ic/TWmxLXGihDI/AAAAAAAAAZc/UstPhpICBgY/s320/001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578184422213190706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">It's a pterodactyl!! AAAaaaa!!!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01154652758070381475noreply@blogger.com2