October 2004 Archives

So much Halloween fun, and I'm *so* tired and wrung out. No details tonight, except to say that Eli had a great time all weekend, and so did we (although yesterday I came down with a mild cold, bleah). Details tomorrow, and who knows, maybe even pictures. Must sleep.

We carved pumpkins with Eli tonight. It was really a great family moment, just the 3 of us, Eli in a great mood and so excited about the Nightmare Before Christmas patterns we were using, and about the whole process. He helped scoop out seeds and goop, and helped push out the carved pieces after I'd cut them out. He was delighted with the whole process, from the first knife cut to the final ritual trial lighting of all the carved pumpkins. I hope this was just the beginning of a long string of happy, positive holiday family memories we're creating for and with him.

I can't wait for the rest of the weekend with its plethora of fun Halloween activities! It's really true that all the holiday stuff takes on a whole new meaning when you share it with a kid, especially your own kid.

This is an empty moment, a free-writing, take-no-prisoners, loving-the-dash kind of moment, when the sun that has managed to peek out from amongst the spectacular cinematic "I Look Like God's About To Speak" clouds and is lighting up the brick facade of the old building across the street and the increasingly flame-leafed trees below. It's an end of the day, marking time 'til I can make a transition to errands and home life, vaguely tired and wishing I was somewhere else doing something else but not motivated enough to make it happen kind of moment. A "what the hell am I going to write about *now*" kind of moment. Actually several moments. The cars whoosh by on the street below, but otherwise it's quiet but for the sound of typing. No one outside on the street talking, no one in the building. Time to go home, to start the next phase of the day.

That's it for today. Too tired and uninspired for anything else. Go watch a movie or something. I'm not your monkey (as John Stewart would say).

Ok, ok, I know I fell off the daily posting wagon again. Sheesh. You should feel sorry for me, the one who's lying prone here in the dusty road with wagon tracks across her back. It's just been a distracting and tiring couple of days, and though I'm mostly keeping all the balls I'm juggling in the air right now, I've been precariously teetering along the brink of overwhelm (that is, when I'm not apparently lying in the dusty road with wagons rolling over me). Woah. Florid mixed metaphors 'r us. Time to switch topics!

I'm not feeling particularly focused today (can you tell?), so rather than a linear sequential account of the last few days or some rant on a particular topic, I will now offer up a smorgasblog buffet. In other words, in lieu of an actual theme, I will now present a random collection of (hopefully) tasty, or at least palatable blogmorsels that have been collecting in my brain for the last few days. Some may be related to actual events, some may not. Linearity is not a priority. You have been warned.

(Why is it that every time I hear the word "smorgasbord", and especially the phrase "a veritable smorgasbord", I am instantly afflicted by an auditory hallucination of Templeton from Charlotte's Web singing about the Fair? Parents, you just never can quite tell what deep, twisted effect some of those animated movies you so casually let your children watch are going to have, years later.)

So the weekend in Nevada City with my bro and his family went pretty well, although it wound up being just me and Eli who drove up there (Josh stayed home with an unfortunate dose of the barfies, similar to the one that took Eli down last weekend). The drive was uneventful and easy, and there was lots of thrilling cousin time for the boys (there would have been more if J hadn't put himself through so many time-outs for inappropriate behavior, but that's the way it went). Z was walking up a storm, and soooo cute. Due to a combination of circumstances, D & K were more exhausted and stressed out than usual, but we still got to spend some good family time. We went out to eat, wandered around downtown Nevada City, and went to an awesome local pumpkin patch. Cute pix will be posted at some point. I didn't get nearly enough sleep, but it was worth it overall.

I'm gingerly starting to face up to the idea that in a few months, life will become incredibly much more complicated (not to mention sleep-deprived and overwhelming). Whose bright idea was it to add another family member (a chaotic and chaos-inducing newborn, no less)? Oh yeah, ours. I know it will all smooth out and become dealable at some point, and that my ability to juggle, balance, suck-it-up and keep-on-keepin'-on, already honed to a fierce pokey point by the addition of Eli to our lives, will just increase until I am even yet more the multiple gold-medal winner than I already am. But still, it kind of scares me sometimes. I guess I really will find out just how much more I can handle. Stay tuned.

The commute time in the morning seems to be a creative time for me. I think of all kinds of things to blog about, or that I want to try in my story. (I also come up with ideas for CD mixes, think about people I want to touch base with, or problem solve about things I need to do at work or at home.) But I rarely follow up on any of the things I think about by actually writing them down. If I had the chance ever to do the full-time writer thing, here's how I think my routine would ideally go (taking into account my personal physical and creative biorhythms). First I'd get up pretty early (around 7ish would work nicely), get myself and whatever family members might still be around in this fantasy ready to leave the house, then I'd drive somewhere (ideally for no more than 10-20 minutes) and sit down to write for a few hours. Then I would take a break for lunch and a nap (and maybe even a nice walk), and get up in the mid to late afternoon do a few more hours of writing. I'd knock off for a relatively lateish dinner and then give myself full permission to let myself veg for the rest of the eve in whatever way I please, making sure of course to be in bed in time to get at least 8 hours of sleep. Yeah, that would be about perfect. What would your ideal work/creative schedule be?

I'm trying to really take some time these days to notice the slow progression of Fall. The leaves are turning, the air is crisping, the light is softer and sticks around for fewer hours. The weather is more unpredictable. Every day things are a little different. This morning I noticed that the recent rains we have finally had have caused tiny bits of green grass to start poking up through the dry brownness that's been here for months along the sides of the road. Green season is coming! Course it will all be flooded/frozen out soon, but it's good to see the dry brown ending.

I still miss my morning cup of coffee. Both the ritual and the effect. But I know it's better for me not to have the caffeine dependence. And now when I do have coffee (I've been treating myself when I have chunks of writing time), it's certainly more fun (and effective). Today I had a cup of decaf, cos it was so cold out and I just wanted the tiniest caffeine boost. And it was good. But not as good as the "real thing", as they say. Ah well.

Ahhh, there's nothing like coming home to a clean house (especially when someone else has done the cleaning, like an expensive fairy godmother). I wish we could keep it this way all the time, with all the clutter stowed away (or at least neatly piled), the floors and carpets clean, the bathroom fixtures gleaming, the beds neatly made with fresh clean sheets. (Mmmm. Clean sheets. I LOVE the feeling of getting into a freshly made bed naked, with no cat litter grains under me or or rumpled up/pulled out sheets and covers to put in order. Don't you?) I guess it all comes down to priorities, and clearly ours lie elsewhere most of the time. Asi es la vida loca.

All right, that's it for the smorgasblog buffet this time. Hopefully this made up for the last few days of not posting. And maybe I'll do this again sometime, I like the little morsels idea. Sort of the Dim Sum approach, come to think of it.

Couldn't quite get it together to post last night after the book group meeting...everyone left relatively early, but Mom stayed for awhile. So after a good long "worrying about family" discussion with Mom that lasted way too late, I just had to crash. Won't be posting tomorrow either, as we're heading up and over to Nevada City to visit my bro and his family for the weekend. Should be plenty to report when I get back, though.

Last few days have been fairly unremarkable as far as big issues go. But there have been some good small details. Best thing about yesterday was a gorgeous drive into SF (for a client meeting) on one of those fresh smelling blue sky warm sun crisp air perfect Bay Area Fall days, coming out of the Rainbow Tunnel and seeing the GG Bridge, the City, the sparkling water of the bay with white dots of sailboats, the brown hills of the Headlands all spread out in one swooping panorama. Love it. My favorite view ever. (Or at least top 10.)

The best thing about today was walking down San Anselmo Avenue (the main drag of the precious little town I work in--I'm not making fun, I really love it. I've got *history* with San Anselmo Avenue, given that my mom's had a store there for nearly 30 years now) with my coworker, on another crisp sunny Fall day, and going into the foofy chocolate store and browsing around. The most amazing find: a mojito truffle, with an absolutely stunning ganache center containing a perfect taste of fresh crushed mint and a gorgeously smooth heart shaped outer shell painted with edible metallic gold. Woah. Gotta get me some more of those li'l beauties. It seriously made my whole mouth go "Oh. My. God."

I am continually impressed, grateful and humbled by the wide range of human endeavor--from the small to the large, from truffles to cities, humans actually *are* capable of making beautiful, complicated things.

(or maybe that was just *me* that was wondering and waiting and dying to find out....)

It's a boy!

Yep, this afternoon Josh and I sat in a small room (well, Josh sat, I reclined with goo on my tummy) while the briskly efficient ultrasound tech (completely lacking in any sense of occasion or flair for drama) looked at a bunch of barely comprehensible black and white squigglies and said "there's the baby's sex". She pointed to a protuberant white bit amongst all the other squigglies. "It's a boy." Then she typed on the monitor: "XY". And that was pretty much it except for a few additional, less exciting measurements.

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, another fine strapping lad to carry on the Archer name. In olden days I would have been worth many camels, since I keep giving my husband sons. An all boy household! I sure hope it's true what they say about boys worshipping their mothers. ;) Yeah, in some ways I'm sad that I'll never know the "other side" of parenting, or share in the joys of frills, sparkles, horses, hair accessories and princess obssessions, but on the other hand, I *know* boy. I can *do* boy. And judging by Eli, boy is pretty damn great.

Speaking of Eli, when informed that his new baby sibling was going to be a brother, he was mildly interested (as he has been all along on the topic of the baby--neither really psyched about it nor nonplussed with the idea). When asked what he thought the baby's name should be, he thought for a minute, and then said, "Bunga." (That's with a hard "g", just to be clear.)

I laughed and said, "Bunga? Why Bunga?" and he didn't really have an answer. So I said "I don't think we're going to call the baby Bunga, honey. But thanks for suggesting something."

After another couple moments he said, "maybe I will call the baby 'Pumpkin'."

To which I replied, "well that would be a good nickname. After all, sometimes I call you 'Pumpkin'".

He said "yeah, you call me 'Pumpkin Pie!'"

After that the conversation veered off into other, less amusing topics (like "What food day is it?"--i.e. "What's for dinner?"). But rest assured, the Great Name Debate is now officially in session. More on this in the days to come, I'm sure.

So there's this little counter on the main MT (Movable Type) admin interface that tells you how many blog entries you've done, and guess what? This one tonight is apparently my 100th entry since I started keeping this blog back in April. 100 entries in just under 6 months--woo! I feel pretty proud of myself, to have kept up some kind of regular writing habit (in addition to the novel writing, which is just never going to be as regular as I want it to be).

I just spent some time reading back over some of the older entries and I have to say, I was actually pretty pleased with what I read, for the most part. Not every thing I ever posted was an exquisitely carved jewel of literary beauty (in fact, to be brutally honest I'd say the best I got was just decent quality flashy rhinestones, if that), but there seems to definitely be a voice (hopefully one that is at least mildly interesting/entertaining to someone other than me), and I think I got down some interesting insights there from time to time. I like this blogging thing (though I suppose if I was being totally accurate I'd say that what I've been doing is really more like online journaling than blogging). I think I'll keep it.

There's just something so satisfying to me about the combination of personal journaling, with all its mundane details, and public commentary on things that interest me. And I won't deny that it's fun to just have my own little creative domain over which I have complete control. I can spin what I say (and spin my presentation of self, as one of my favorite theorists, Erving Goffman, writes about) any ol' way I please, for any nefarious (or not so nefarious) purpose that suits my fancy. And I can twist and stretch my sentences and punctuate however I please, whenever I please--that alone is an excellent fringe benefit (at least for my writerly self).

So yay for me, and yay for Parentheticals. Some day maybe it will grow up and be a "real" blog, not just this wooden facsimile with delusions of grandeur and an occasionally helpful cricket muse.

So the kid was totally better by this morning, and went off to school quite happily. Go figure. I really wish I still had that kind of immune system. Now everyone cross your fingers that I don't wake up in the middle of the night barfing anytime soon.

In other brief report items, I posted new pix to the family photos site. Included are pix from Sea Ranch, and some dang cute pix of Zinnie and various family members (including her dog, Kaya). At some point when I'm not needing the sleep, I'll swipe some of Adrienne's Sea Ranch pix for my very own (bwah hah hah hah...) and add them to the page, but for now, it's enough to have actually posted my own.

I can really feel the baby movin' and groovin' now--last night I looked down at my stomach at a fortuitous moment and saw a little "pop". So I'm guessing that outsiders (patient outsiders anyway) could feel the wee one bopping around in there if they tried. Woo! Almost halfway there and still feeling great...

So Sea Ranch was great, with one small exception. The great stuff: a super cool well equipped comfy rental house with lovely views of meadow (complete with deer) and ocean; fun field trips to walk along sea cliffs and through "spooky" twisted cypress trees to rocky beaches full of seals and kelp; lounging around and reading, writing, watching movies and eating good food with friends; snuggle time with Eli. I've got pix I'll eventually have up on the family photos site, but here's a few samples, shamelessly stolen from Adrienne's website cos she beat me to it:

Eli and me sitting at the edge of the cliffs overlooking the gorgeously grey and cloudy Pacific.

An artsy black and white shot of Eli that Adrienne took on that same cliff walk.

A groupshot of Jim, Adrienne, me, Eli and Josh amidst the spooky cool cypress trees on the way to Shell Beach.

The small exception: Eli woke up in the middle of the night last night complaining that his tummy hurt. Then he spent the rest of the night getting up approximately every 1/2 hour to an hour, barfing and being unhappy, which means we didn't get a whole heck of a lot of sleep. Poor lil guy. He was a bit better this morning, but still didn't manage to keep anything down all day. Hopefully it's a 24 hour bug--we'll see what happens tomorrow. (And meanwhile, I'm praying that whatever it was isn't communicable--yikes!)

We got home today around 6:30 or so, later than we'd planned due to snarly weekend traffic, and then after feeding Eli dinner (which he promptly barfed up, sigh) and a bit of parental guilt and indecision, we actually left him in the more-than-competent substitute care of Grammy and Grampy to go out to a much anticipated romantic dinner at Christophe's to celebrate our 11th Loveiversary. (In other words, the anniversary of the date we first became an "official" couple, as counted from the day we said "I love you" to each other.) We had a delightful dinner, complete with a good mix of nostalgic reflection, thoughtful relationship discussion, and mutually congratulatory expressions of satisfied coupledom. And some damn delicious profiteroles too. A perfect date night.

Some day when I can convince Josh to find it and fork it over, I'll post his version of our "origin story" that used to live on his web page, because it's a great story and because it's one of those things that seems to prove the sheer miraculous randomness of the universe, in terms of how we ever managed to get together. We marveled tonight at how lucky we were to have ever found each other, despite the odds, and how far we had come in 11 years, both as a couple and as individuals. I can only hope the next 11 are as satisfying and interesting (though hopefully they'll be a bit less dramatic, developmentally speaking). Vive le J!

Just a quick entry to say that we're about to flit off to Sea Ranch for the weekend with Adrienne and Jim, so no blogging until Sunday at the earliest. Well, "flit" is probably too casual a word to describe the space shuttle launch-worthy planning that's gone on to make this weekend happen, but still...a vacation! Woo! Beaches and seals and hiking and, well, sitting on our asses in someone else's lovely home that we don't have to clean, with only pleasant distractions like DVDs and books and comics and even, dare I dream it, some writing. Even Eli should have fun, hopefully. More reporting when I get back.

So Suzanne beat me to this blog entry, but I still want to do my own. "Late but Great", as the family motto goes. ;)

The PWG (Petaluma Writer's Group--we've never quite managed to come up with something more clever and precious like, say, The Inklings) has just celebrated its 1st anniversary. One year! One year of regular (yet loving) accountability, of unconditional support through frustration, of laughter, connection, and shared interest. We were complete strangers when we met, and how random it seems now, looking back, that we ever gelled as well and as quickly as we did. Little did I realize, a year ago, how important (dare I say crucial) Suzanne and Rebecca would wind up being to my fledgling efforts to move back to/reclaim my writing life. I literally don't think I could have come as far as I have with the actual accomplishment (just under half a novel) nor grown as much or as confidently in my creative process without these gals.

So in other words, I think that for me (I won't venture out on a limb and say this applies to other writerly types, though I suspect it might), A Group of One's Own has been almost as vital to the creative process as having A Room of One's Own (not that I've ever really had that, but I can see how it sure would be helpful and just plain luxurious). Maybe it's a writer thang, maybe it's a girl thang, maybe it's an extrovert thang (or maybe it's just me), I don't know--but having other people who show regular, informed interest and offer thoughtful commentary on my artistic output has been incredibly helpful. Knowing that they're not only expecting me to write (in general), but actually interested in what I'm writing (in specific), helps get me through the stuck or fallow times, when my own self isn't convinced of the worth of continuing and would really just like to take a few months off and watch TV or something equally passive. I've never been a proponent of the "solitary writer/artist" stereotype--I'm just not the loner type, for one thing, and frankly I believe that art is in many ways an ongoing, embedded response to one's era, one's community and one's life, all banging around in one big happy stewpot. (Woah I'm mixing metaphors now, look out!)

Ahem.

I'm proud of us, all three of us. Despite the overwhelm of our NASA-like days (where just balancing the needs of work and home can be as complicated as trying to schedule the space shuttle launch), we have all made the commitment not only to our own writing, but to each other and to the writing process. That commitment in and of itself is something rare and special, and deserves a shout out and affirmation.

I feel blessed, truly blessed and smiled upon by the Universe, to have had this opportunity for creative growth gifted to me in this form. I've received some creative kicks in the butt from the Universe before (most notably, being diagnosed with cancer led directly to my taking up painting), but this one is as gentle a one as I could have hoped for. I will not take this for granted.

I will not take this for granted.

Ok I stayed up waaaaaaaaayyyy too late finishing up and posting a novel chapter I was writing, despite my super tired and bleary day and my resolution to go to bed early tonight to compensate. I don't know why, but I was ready to finish *something* tonight, I guess. It will probably look a bit rawer in the harsh light of day. But I don't care. Any day I can squeeze out a couple thousand words is a pretty great fucking day, and given everything else going on, it's a lovely and semi-ironic miracle that it was today that I managed it.

That being said, it's time for our heroine to sleep the sleep of the righteous.

Home again after a long and blessedly drama-free day. Wrung out, but replete, and left with the beginnings of closure.

The day was schizophrenically split into two opposing pieces. The morning was some personal time, where I got up early and left the house to go do some writing, and finally had some good breakthrough. After slogging through some muddy, uncertain-where-I-was-going-and wishing-I-could-get-there-faster beginnings, the trickle finally broke out into a full flow and the words were there when I needed them (thank you, Muse). I actually even had that giddy rollercoaster "whee!" feeling at one point--of course, that could have also been due to the cup of coffee I'd allowed myself at the cafe, but still, it was rewarding.

Then it was time for the second (longer and far less easy) part of the day. I came home around noon and after situating Eli with a sitter (my friend Linda, God bless her, who'd volunteered to bring her son Nicholas over for a playdate), we left for Poppa's memorial service at the synagogue. I was a little frazzled and not quite grounded in the experience at first (which was probably a combination of switching mental gears, coffee afterglow and not having eaten much), but after sitting next to my mom and brother and listening to the rabbi for a few minutes, I was able to focus and be present. It was a good service, short but meaningful. My mom spoke, my aunt spoke, my brother and I spoke. I read what I'd written on my blog (with a few extemporaneous extras thrown in) and though I was nervous and shaky sad at first, I didn't crack until I read the part about dancing with Poppa at my wedding. Then I lost it, kerblooey, right up in front of everyone. I was kind of embarrassed and disappointed with myself for breaking down, but I had a lot of people come up to me afterwards and tell me that they'd been really touched by what I'd said, so I guess it's all a matter of perspective.

I cried a lot. We sang "Eli Eli", which is an incredibly poignant and beautiful song and which I used to sing to Eli as a lullabye when he was wee--I cried and couldn't keep singing. My mom's speaking made me cry, I cried when I spoke, I cried when my brother spoke. The rabbi read a poem (one of my mom's absolute favorites, and mine too) from the Yom Kippur service, about life as a journey from birth to death--I cried. I cried when we said kaddish. The tears didn't make me feel better, but they weren't bad--they were just part of the whole experience.

When it was over, I talked with a lot of people. I actually did talk to my aunt, who was somewhat stiff, but civil and not completely closed, and to my uncle (and his mother), who were warmer. I never got to say anything to my cousin (my aunt's daughter), which was my only regret. Overall, there was much flapping of lips and social courtesies, but also some deeper moments, like the realization that it's always easier to have an uncomplicated love for/worship of one's grandparents than one's parents, and the realization that it takes many different people (dare one say it takes a village?) to properly contextualize and remember a person, and even then it takes ongoing work. But there was also a definite outpouring of love and support from family and extended family and community, and that was good and right.

After the service Josh and I went home to pick up Eli, and then took him back over to my parents' house for the reception (or whatever you call that kind of gathering of people after a memorial service). Luckily he got involved with his cousin and in watching a movie downstairs so we adults could continue to socialize and memorialize, which we did for another 4 or 5 pleasant (in a bittersweet way) hours until everyone finally left and the house was quiet again, just my parents and Josh and Eli and me. We had dinner together, and then we left a little before 8pm. Eli, exhausted from his day of playing with his buddy Nicholas and his beloved cousin Jonah, crashed out as soon as we hit the freeway and didn't even stir when we transferred him to bed (whew). Now I'm ready for bed myself. Maybe in the days to come there can be some more sociological/anthropological observations and reflections on this kind of universal ritual moment. But right now, I have that sort of hollow, squeezed out feeling you get after a really emotional day--time to rest and let the well replenish itself.

I really miss my Poppa.

Much to my chagrin, I woke up early today (between the soccer players, Josh snoring on one side of me and Eli "Mama, I had a bad dream!" snoring away on the other, I just couldn't sleep past 7:30). I got up and actually managed to do a little bit of writing before the kid got up--not enough, never nearly enough, but at least it sort of got me back into the groove. I'm on another hard part right now--starting a new plot thread/story arc--and it's going pretty slowly, like having to dig through mud and pebbles, washing and sifting for the occasional glinty nugget of a solid sentence.

After that, I spent most of the day in relative leisure puttering around the house, putting up Halloween deco with an eager Eli, napping, cleaning up a bit. Then in the late afternoon we went to Golden Gate Park with my parents and Dave, Keri, Jonah and Zinnie. Josh and Keri took the kids to the playground while Mom and Dad and Dave and I walked through the rhododendron groves and around the conservatory, remembering Poppa. It was a gorgeous day to be in the park, and a rare treat to be hanging out as the core foursome, even though the topic was sad and mom was really melancholy. (Understandably so.)

After the park, we went back to Mom and Dad's house for Orchid Thai takeout (and mac & cheese for the boys) and decadent desserts. It was some good family time, and I'm glad we got to spend that time together before what is no doubt going to be a maelstrom of family politics and drama tomorrow at Poppa's memorial service. Sigh. Here's hoping everyone can at least be civil and respectful of the occasion tomorrow.

...because I just bought tickets for the very last Lee Press-On and the Nails show ever, which is happenin' right in my own backyard on Halloween weekend! This is exciting for several reasons:
1) Lee Press-On and the Nails (LPN) put on an incredible live show that I have not had the pleasure of seeing in person since back in my late Ren Faire days (oh, about 8 or 9 years ago for those keeping score) and I love their twisted hi-energy swing music--reminds me of some of my golden mid-90s years and good times that were had;
2) It's Halloween, so it's a costume party! I love dressing up in costume! I think I will most likely reprise my infamous "Fertility Fairy" costume from a few years ago (a sparkly fun fairy costume designed to show off the preggo belly that Josh made me back in 2000 when I was pregnant with Eli);
3) Josh and I will get to go out on a Saturday Night Date like Real Grownups do, to eat yummy food (it's dinner theater, baby!) and hear great live music and dance and party with other crazy fun folks (no cocktails for me but I'm willing to live with that);
4) We're going with Dri and Jim, and it'll be extra fun go with friends. It's like a double date!

Now if only we can find a babysitter (crosses fingers and toes and whispers a short prayer to the God of Parents Who Desperately Need Couple Time)...I keep thinking that our chances to go out and do *anything* are about to be severely curtailed for another year or two once the newest bebe comes along (and I know I'm not wrong). So chances like this seem doubly precious to me.

Yay! I'm so looking forward to this!

...and it *moves*!

Yup, while I might have successfully convinced myself that this extra little tummy pooch (which strangely, after an initial joyous bursting out on stage, has refused to get any bigger and just sits there unvarying, content with its own compact roundness) was just one of those symptoms of advancing female maturity (The Dreaded Post-35 Droop, perhaps?), now I am experiencing a pregnancy symptom impossible to ignore: the bumps and thumps of Quickening have desdended upon me. Not just the "what was *that*?" kind of fluttery gas bubbles, but honest to goodness pokes from the inside. They're still gentle and sort of cute at this stage (as opposed to those I remember from the final weeks with Eli, strong enough to make a book jump off my tummy), but unmistakably, there is something growing in there, making itself known. I actually feel comfort and pleasure from this--not only is it a reassuring sign that everything seems to be progressing nicely, it's like having a secret private buddy, mine and only mine. (Yes, it's possible to get a little "squicked", as Teresa Nielsen-Hayden says, by the fact that there's a whole new potentially autonomous alien being growing inside my very own body, but I prefer the whole miracle-of-life goddess creationist meme, thankyouverymuch.)

Other than the wee bumps and thumps, I have to say I'm not noticing much else in the way of pregnancy symptoms. At 19 weeks, I'm still not big enough for maternity clothes, I've got no nausea or edema, the bone-sucking tired is gone, the cravings too. I just feel pretty normal, but with a poochy taut tummy and bigger, tenderer boobs (yeah I know, just what I needed). This is how it was last time, as I recall--I do pregnancy really well. I must come from good breeding stock. Too bad I'm not as good at the labor part--oh well. If I had to choose one, I'd rather have a comparative 9 months of easy pregnancy than a few hours (or days in my case) of easy labor.

I guess I should be enjoying this "golden time" while I can...isn't that what everybody always says? Be here now. Right. Trying.

Some days there just isn't much to say or energy left to say it by the time I get to posting. So therefore, a picture: here's the one my mom had me scan today for Poppa's obituary in the Chronicle/Mercury News. This is a special picture to me because way back in 1992 or so, when I took my first drawing class, I used this picture to do a big (3' x 2' or something similar) pencil portrait of Poppa. (I offered to give him and Natalie the picture, but they didn't want it, so I still have it, framed and hanging on my wall.) I love his profile, and the mood of this shot, which was taken at my parents' dining room table (probably at Passover or Thanksgiving or some other family holiday). He looks every inch the wise patriarch.

I hope you're at peace now, Poppa.

Today was a compensatory "me" day (to balance out yesterday's "Mama Day"). I got up lateish and spent a few hours moving my paints, old canvases and easel and setting them up in the garage (while also running my laundry, since I'm queen of multi-tasking). I'm ready to paint again now, so the next opening I get, I have no excuse not to, and every reason in the world to start again (especially given that I have an upcoming deadline for a painting I owe to a friend to illustrate his short story for a book that's coming out next year). I feel really rusty but definitely excited to be so close to picking up the ol' brayer again. I haven't painted in over 2 years...what the hell happened? Crafting words is all very well, and was certainly my first artistic love, but the visceral, sensual experience of pushing paint around, laying down texture and color, is something I really do miss. God I wish I was independently wealthy and could spend (at least part of) every day making art. But one small step at a time is the way it has to be, and it's better than nothing--I have to keep reminding myself that there's no "shoulds" to live up to here. Every moment with the muse is bonus icing on the cupcake of a busy 21st century working mama life.

So anyway after that, I went out to Berkeley for a long-planned visit with my buddies Linda and Michelene for some delightful chatter chat catch-up time, fancy lunch, shopping and scrapping. We don't get to do this very often but what a fabulous pleasure it is--every girly pleasure you could want except maybe shopping for shoes. ;) After a nice leisurely afternoon, I got home around 5ish and even had time to do more digiphoto processing before Josh and Eli got home from the birthday party they'd been to (it was a very social weekend for Eli). Then some nice family dinner making and hangout time, and more fooling around with digiphotos after the kid was in bed. (I guess I'm just in a reflective/nostalgic mode these days with all the photo processing and scrapbooking and all that...I wish I had a couple weeks off with nothing else going on to just catch up on all this family memory-making stuff. Sigh...so many projects, so little time...)

So all in all it's been a very good weekend, with enough time and energy to do much of what I wanted to do, some good creative time, and some good family time. I feel like I'm heading into the work week with good spirits--of course don't hold me to that or anything...there's never a dull moment and I'm sure "something" will come along to mix things up shortly.

Today was a full-on Mama Day--in other words, an all-Eli, all-the-time day, with a brief interlude in the early evening for a much-appreciated (and sorely needed) 2 hour nap (naps: one of my secret vices and greatest pleasures). I got up with him in the morning, played around while doing house chores, then took him to the Panda Room for a haircut. After the haircut (and a brief nap for Eli in the car), I took him to a classmate's birthday party for the majority of the afternoon. Eli had a great time at the party, and of course didn't want to leave, but I was tired, even though mostly all I'd done was watch him exhaust himself on the Spiderman jumpy castle and chat with the other parents I knew from Eli's school. So we came home and he settled in to watch TV and eat dinner with Daddy while I crashed out for the aforementioned blissful nap. I woke up in time to do the evening bedtime ritual with Eli, who was definitely worn out from his busy day.

Other than that, I've spent my kid-free evening hours poking around on the computer downloading music and organizing photos, sitting next to Josh on the couch while he pokes around on his new Powerbook. (Josh has set it up so we can broadcast our iTunes playlists right to the stereo, wirelessly, from either computer. Woo!) Nice and companionable, but what a time suck--suddenly 3 hours later, it's midnight and my eyes are burning from staring at the screen. How did that happen? Sheesh. Time to go to bed.

So Dri and Jim came over last night and we managed to watch most of the first presidential debate between Kerry and Bush, in-between wrangling the kid and eating dinner. (We finally got the kid to stop interrupting by hooking him up with earphones and a DVD of Nightmare Before Xmas playing on Josh's computer. I try not to do this often, but it seemed worth it this time.) Tivo gave us some trouble but we managed to get most of it nonetheless.

Before I say anything, let me reveal my biases: I really don't like Bush, never have, never will. I definitely belong to the "anybody but Bush" camp. I have been mildly pleased with Kerry so far, and generally agree with his positions and his leadership style, but I ended up very pleased and impressed at Kerry's performance last night. I thought he was well-spoken, intelligent, clear, decisive, forthright and calm. In other words, he acted exactly as I would want a great leader to act. Bush was clearly not in his best element--I guess some people are impressed by his rootsy, "down-to-earth" cowboy charm, but I feel like at his best he comes off as overly macho and chest-thumping, and at his worst, dumb, indecisive, petulant and childishly unprepared. It really bugged me how whenever he couldn't come up with an intelligent response to something Kerry said, he resorted to his "Kerry is a flip-flopper!" buzzphrase and/or talked about how he was the only one who could keep our country safe. Ugh.

The one thing I just can't let go of in the debate, and so far I haven't seen anyone else mentioning this (although I have certainly not taken the time to go lurching merrily 'round the blogosphere reading the spin) is Bush's off-the-cuff comment (why does he always put his foot in his mouth when he goes "off book"? I think because he's just not that smart...) about his daughters: "I try to keep them on a leash..." (followed by a little chuckle that I think was supposed to imply "well, those *girls*, you know how they are...") To which Kerry replied something like "Well, I've learned that you can't really do that..."

But how insulting this comment was! To me it just sums up that whole patriarchal southern attitude towards women (not to mention children) as property, or at best as no more than pets, fine and proper accessories for a manly politician to have. Of course young people do rash things, speak before thinking (something Bush himself has clearly been guilty of on numerous occasions--what's his excuse?), but that's not what Bush said. He could have said "ah, the enthusiasms of youth" or something like that, and every parent would have chuckled. But I think his "leash" metaphor was inappropriate and indicative of his attitude towards women, children, and hell, other human beings (not to mention ironic, frankly, coming from a guy who many people think is just a puppet on the end of his own leash.). Yuck.

Unfortunately, I don't know if watching debates (or at least this kind of carefully scripted, overly-negotiated spinfest) really makes a difference in most people's attitudes and decisions about who to vote for. As much as I was watching Bush with a chip on my shoulder, and saw a man who was fumbling, unclear and condescending without giving me anything positive to grab on to, I'm sure that all sorts of people out there who already think he's a great president and are intending to vote for him saw him as having done a great job. Are these things mostly preaching to the choir of the already decided? Yes, I think so. But also they're all about pitching to the media, who, with their post-game-wrapup spin-mongering, will be telling all the undecided folks who didn't watch who "won" and what to think.

On the bright side though, watching the Daily Show commentary afterwards made me laugh so hard I literally cried. Sure, it was preaching to the choir, but it was damn funny preaching. I'm looking forward to seeing the VP debate next week, and to the "town hall" and "domestic policy" debates between Bush and Kerry. (And, of course, to the Daily Show's post-debate wrap-up.)

Speaking of the Daily Show, I think a lot about a comment Bill Clinton made when he was a guest on the Daily Show a few months ago: "Democrats win when people think". I think if people had more time and were presented the facts with less spin and fear-mongering, hell, if the facts weren't so hard to ferret out in the first place, they'd be able to see that Bush's presidency has only benefitted a select small piece of this huge country. But honestly, people just believe what they want to believe; they see what they want to see. Or, as my favorite college prof once put it in a slightly different context, "You really can't change anyone else's mind for them. All you can do is change your own behavior and hope that in interacting with you, they're forced to change theirs, at least a little bit."