November 2004 Archives

Tired.

It was a great holiday weekend overall, full of family and friends, busy with events and shopping and decorating and running from place to place. But whooooeeeee I'm paying for it now. Body is noisily insisting on slowing down and stopping, SOON. Hopefully I can at least squeeze in a nice warm bath with some of my new yummy smelling LUSH bath bombs before I shut down completely, like an inferior toy unlucky enough not to get the Energizer batteries. It's going to be a fairly demanding week ahead, so it sure would be smart of me to start it off without too much of a sleep deficit.

With the holidays, and their increased time and energy demands, I can feel myself getting revved up into "super logisticker" mode, and while it's a good thing to be getting all this stuff planned and taken care of, I always run the risk of getting so wound up with the space shuttle launch itself that I forget to look out the window at the stars when I finally get up past the atmosphere. Must. Remember. To Be Here Now. Sigh...

Stuck again with the writing. Big picture issues and plot entanglements needing too much attention, and not enough time or energy to think them through. Hopefully some sleep will make everything clearer. A vacation weekend away is coming up too, if I can only get there.

Bath time.

Traditional food, eaten appreciatively over good conversation with family and friends. What could be better? I'm thankful, oh yes I am.

Favorite guilty Thanksgiving food indulgence (and don't read this if you have a sensitive stomach): furtively skimming off the carmelized top "skin" of the butter and fat drippings that collect at the bottom of the turkey pan, each time I baste the turkey (every 15 minutes, baby). Oh, the joy that the intense flavor of all that chewy brown buttery FAT gives me...I just can't even quite describe how happy it makes my mouth. Along the same lines, my other favorite is eating the bits of stuffing that have fallen out of the turkey's neck cavity into the butter/drippings, as well as sneaking bits of nicely browned (but not crispy) turkey skin while it's being carved. Really, it's all about the butter and rendered poultry fat combo. It's hardwired into my genetics, I swear. (Mmmm schmaltz...)

And yeah, the turkey itself is always yummy, and so are the garlic yams, and the creative salad my mom always makes, not to mention the truly delicious and satisfying stuffing (best from inside the turkey, but also good from the extra casserole dish, and both even better with some more fat, uh, I mean some gravy liberally applied over it) and the pumpkin pie and mom's funky yet tasty persimmon pudding (both with lots of hand-whipped cream on top). But ooo, there's something that just gets me every single year about that butter/fat combo. Of course I know it's "bad" for me, a zillion artery-clogging calories per taste, but really, in the bigger picture, who cares? It's only once a year. And I'm thankful for that too.

Augh. So apparently this great fertile creative energy spurt, these lovely green shoots I was seeing, have culminated in some sort of bizarre hybrid carnivorous flower from another planet that is currently gnawing on my head and trying to suck out my brains. (Get behind me, everyone! I'll handle this. Eat hot plasma, you demonic blossom! Ahem. Yeah.) It seems that while I was busy patting myself on the back for getting unstuck, my subconscious capriciously decided to first radically throw into doubt and then completely overhaul a huge chunk of the plot and direction of my novel. Dammit. 50,000 words and NOW I start calling things into question? Sheesh.

I'd like to leave my future self a warning, if not etched into a stone obelisk then at least here in these parenthetical mutterings that I may or may not ever re-read: Hey Self! When you write your next novel, it might possibly behoove you to work out as much of the story AHEAD OF TIME as you can. Given, you'll probably need to make adjustments as the characters and story grow in their inevitable organic way and inspire you in different directions, but it makes things much easier if you can decide on certain main basic plot points first and stick with them. And as long as we're at it, howbout a slightly less ambitious project next time? Maybe just one main character, and a straightforward linear story, and preferably something set in a familiar time and place. This worldbuilding stuff is exhausting when you actually care about not being too derivative and stereotypical. You can make it a lot easier on yourself by sticking with what you already know.

Yes yes, I am learning, I am learning much more than I ever thought I would about the creative process and the art and craft of writing, and overall it's a great thing and I'm happy and satisfied with my journey (and even with a fair amount of what I've actually written, surprisingly). It seems to actually be true that the best way to learn how to write a novel is to write one. And even if the end product isn't a wildly successful commercial enterprise that makes its author rich and famous (hey, a girl can dream, can't she?), it's still a worthwhile enterprise, a big personal achievement that one can point to with a certain amount of pride. But whew, slog slog slog. And I still can't shake the grumpy feeling that even if I finally successfully navigate this novel-writing swamp and come out the other side relatively unscathed, virtually no one else will care, or have even noticed that I was slogging. But I guess there's a lesson or two to be learned there too. (Pesky lessons. Breed faster than flies, I swear.)

So I went to a physical therapist today, as a follow up to my visit to the neurologist a couple weeks ago (precipitated by the experience of the Worst Migraine Ever). It was an interesting experience, I suppose, although a massage would have been more pleasant overall. I got examined, poked and pressure-pointed, heated and iced, and I left with orthotics recommendations as well as a program of daily stretches I'm supposed to do. Then I'm supposed to go back in a couple of weeks and check in.

I know this will all ultimately be good for me (especially if I actually DO the stretches and try the orthotics), and help me feel better in the long run. And I know I said I was going to be good about this, that I was ready to do whatever preventative maintenance it takes to get healthier (and one might assume, putatively happier). And I am. But can I complain for just one teensy moment here? Call it healthy venting, that sounds better than "complaining". Ok? Ok.

So not only is it a bummer to suddenly find a whole new category of things that are physically "wrong" with me (which makes me feel both older and more broken than I already felt), but I also am feeling a bit overwhelmed with all this new information, with all these new things I have to take care of and incorporate into my already limited personal space/time continuum. God, I get sick (ha ha) of having to be my own doctor--hell, my own health care system. I get tired of having to hold my entire medical history (as well as the history of my current symptoms, along with theories as to their possible cause) in my head, of having to do my own research and pre-office visit diagnostics in order to ensure the correct number and spacing of appointments with the appropriate team of medical professionals, and of rigorously enforcing my own regimen of treatment(s) and follow-up(s).

I wish that I had the luxury of someone else (a parent, a spouse, an old-fashioned family doctor) to hold and deal with all these details, to tell me what's wrong and what to do about it, to oversee all these treatments and follow ups. I wish I could just passively show up when my physical body was needed, and not have to trouble myself with the rest of it. But there's no one else as motivated or knowledgeable about my personal health as I am. I have to do all this. No one else will, or wants to, (or, and I know this, should) no matter how much they might love me. This is one of those unsavory parts of adulthood that I don't recall anyone ever explaining to me or warning me about (not that I would have understood it or even listened until I went through it, just like most things in life, including the Suck-It-Up Olympics, and the Space-Shuttle-Launch theory of friendship, not to mention motherhood), and yet there it is.

Well clearly it's been a week to lie fallow, to take care of the physical (self and household) while letting the creative energy slowly build back up. I've just been mentally/creatively spent, so much so that even the generally helpful reflection-through-writing time that blogging provides has seemed like far too much effort. With all the times I've been through these tidal periods of slowdown and buildup, you'd think I'd have learned to recognize and trust the process (not to mention my own internal rhythms). Ebb and flow, ebb and flow. But I still get panicky when things slow down, when even after much mixing and stirring my brain won't let things out until they've finished baking, no matter how anxious I am to see how the cake's turned out. Or to change metaphors midstream yet again (just for kicks), what I'm trying to say is that by now I should know, because it's happened so many times, that every fallow period is followed by the lovely green shoots of healthy new plants, especially if I've allowed the field to be fertilized with a little rest and TLC.

I feel an upswing, a growing of new leaves in progress. I've made some important breakthroughs in places I was stuck in the novel writing, and I'm back to feeling jazzed (if still often ignorant in a big-picture sense) about where I'm going with it. My energy for other kinds of little projects (household management, answering emails to friends, figuring out holiday logistics, blogging) seems to be coming back too. Hopefully I'm heading into a good week. I'm going to trust the process and say that I am. Stay tuned.

I seem to be suffering from a severe lack of things to say the last few days. Now, admittedly this could be just from sheer brain exhaustion brought on by the fact that I've been single parenting for the last week (but Josh came home tonight...yay!). I just hope it's not anything more sinister, like say the dreaded preggo brain. Yikes.

But yeah, tonight seems to be no different. I think rather than cudgeling my brain for interesting things to say, I'll go play cribbage with my honey. There's always tomorrow...right? Right?

In place of any actual blog entry, cos it's wayyyyy past my bedtime:

I like you! Almost love you...but like you! Oh, you're good. L-l-l-l-like you!

(Via BoingBoing. So. Cute. Send it to everyone you like!)

Why take a night off from blogging just because I'm tired and seem to have nothing to say? Ha. That would be the easy route. And I certainly never take *that* road, no matter how less traveled it may be or how pretty that yellow wood seems. Stupid blogging habit.

Honestly though, I truly ain't got it in me tonight. I think I'd be best served by getting off the damn computer and going to bed *before* 10pm. (Crazy, I know.) So consider this a mere placeholder entry, good only for satisfying that weird Virgo-like urge to turn all the little dates on the monthly calendar purple instead of that glaring white that shouts "I didn't post today" and makes me feel all less-bloggy-than-thou (or at least lazier-than-thou).

Guilt. Unfavorable comparisons of self to others vis-a-vis certain kinds of accomplishments. If I didn't have them as doppleganger-muses, this blog would be a far sparser place.

Too tired to post thoughtful thoughts or cute stories. Must sleep. Consolation prize: this description of a taste test of the special 5-pack of "novelty" Thanksgiving-dinner themed flavors of Jones soda is frikkin' hilarious. Enjoy.

Huh. What an unusual feeling. It's not-too-late o'clock on a Sunday evening, and I'm sitting here comfortably on the couch in my clean (well, picked up anyway) living room with a heating pad draped over my shoulders. I've got a couple of candles burning, my own choice of favorite music playing on the stereo (Ani Difranco at the moment), and most importantly, a nice warm feeling of general accomplishment. I've cleaned up the house quite a bit, run the dishwasher, done loads of laundry, gone grocery shopping, put away the Halloween decorations, emptied the cat box, fed the kid (we ate crab tonight, at his request...I'm still shaking my head in wonder over that one) gone through the bedtime routine and generally gotten everything in order so that I can hunker down and be single working parent for this whole next week while Josh is gone in Calgary (again...sheesh).

Of course there are a few things I hoped I'd get done that I didn't (processing digipix from Disneyland, making a mix CD, going back to the paint-your-own ceramics store to finish up a few more gifts, getting some more writing done--though I did get some done this morning before Josh left, so I have to give myself at least a little credit, even if I did fritter away much of my BIC writing time having satisfying philosophical convo with Rebecca while we were at the Applebox), but overall, I think I've hit a good balance today. I really think it makes a huge difference to start the week out in a relatively "ready" state, as opposed to lurching into Monday already behind with chores piled up and overwhelm threatening to send me skidding across the pavement with a bad case of road rash with the smallest of mis-steps. Now if I can just actually get to sleep on time, and actually get a good night's sleep...who knows what kind of incredible feats of derring do I might accomplish at both work and the rest of my life tomorrow?

Whew. I'm just wiped. It's been an active day*, for sure, but I think it might also be time to admit that I just don't quite have the stamina I'm used to having. This preggo thing just keeps creeping up on me, no matter how I tend to overlook it. It's kind of funny that the first time around, every little feeling, symptom, change, thump, etc was noted and catalogued--this time it takes a lot more for the fact that I'm pregnant to even occur to me. I guess you could say I'm a tad more distracted and busy this time around--juggling 18 different balls while smilingly pedaling a unicycle along a narrow rope strung over a chasm, is more like it. I have a feeling I won't be able to blithely ignore my body much longer though. Yes, yes, I can be a bit slow at times. But I'm getting it, okay?

*Active day details: I woke up at 6:15 when Eli woke me up ("Mama! Mama! I'm scared!" "What are you scared of, Eli?" "I'm scared of everything!"), and even though he came to bed with us and eventually fell asleep again for another hour or so, I didn't really make it back to sleep. So then I got up with him and did all the morning wrangling (which included timeouts and a huge tantrum brought on by no particular reason), and then around 9:30 Eli's little buddy Nicholas came over for a playdate with his mama, Linda. After a blissful hour or so while the boys played pirate and other things and the mamas had a chance to chat and gaze fondly upon our adorable offspring, the four of us went over to Doodlebug for paint-your-own ceramics holiday present making goodness. Eli had a lot of fun--it always amazes me how careful and detailed he can be when coloring/painting. But his attention span was relatively limited so we didn't get all the things done that I'd hoped...ah well. We'll have to go back. I want to paint something too! After that we headed down to the bagel shop for lunch, then we parted ways with Linda and Nicholas and headed over to Grammy and Grampy's house. Once there, Grampy took Eli out for playground and movies while Mom and I went shopping for maternity clothes. We actually were quite successful and I got a bunch of great things which fit much better than all my old clothes leftover from Eli's pregnancy, but there was much walking around, standing, and trying on of clothes, which turned out to be more physically active than you'd think (and left me really tired). We got home around 6:30 and then there was more kid wrangling and now it's something like 9:30pm and I really really REALLY should take a hot bath and go to bed early. Right? Right.

Because it's Friday, and why not...?

Ok here are today's little smorgasbord of blogmorsels, a wee tapas bar of underdeveloped, yet possibly tasty thoughts.

Yesterday, pushed beyond endurance by a spate of overly chummy emails from Yahoo touting their new and improved content aggregation service, I finally sat down and figured out what RSS and XML and Atom and syndication in general were all about. Basically, this means I figured out how to get probably 75% of the blogs I read on a regular basis to all stream to one place: my Yahoo! page. Very cool. (And if you Blogger folks set up syndication on your blogs I could get them too. It's easy, I'll show you how. C'mon, the first one's free. Heh. But no pressure.) Course I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get the Live Journal blogs I read to show up on my Yahoo! page, but that's ok...at least they aggregate there. Anyway, now I feel kinda proud of myself for being all relatively hip and techy (I'm sure if I just lay down for a few minutes, the feeling will pass and I'll be back to normal).

Parenting challenges pop up at the weirdest times. You have to always be on alert for those pesky teachable moments. Last night it was right before bed, with Eli asking "what lives in our blood?", which gave me the chance to slip in a little anatomy lesson ("Our blood is inside our bodies." "Oh, in our skeletons?" "No, the blood is in our muscles, which are on top of our skeletons.") This morning it was while flossing my teeth in the bathroom, watched carefully by Eli and peppered with a hundred questions (as I often am in the mornings these days...I'm beginning to understand more fully that common mama fantasy of wanting to lock the bathroom door behind me and put a sign on the outside of the door that says "private time, do not disturb"). He decided that he wanted to floss too. Great, a chance to really help him learn good dental hygiene! So I went through the whole floss routine with him (not that we did a good job, but intent is 80% of the battle). Then later it was time for a lesson in friendship and bossing other people around while discussing why his friends maybe didn't want to play pirate dressup over and over for hours with him at daycare yesterday. Then it was yet another reinforcement of the lesson about eating the breakfast you've requested before a request for something different is honored. Then another rerun of the ever-popular "clean up what you take out" lesson when I found he'd completely emptied his bookshelf all over the floor of his room in his search for his Peter Pan book (because we simply *had* to establish whether or not Captain Hook wore a red shirt *and* red pants, and were his boots black or brown?) Sheesh, I tell you, it's nonstop. At least I'm not worried anymore that he'll learn everything there is to learn in school/daycare while he's not around us--seems we have plenty of opportunities to teach him as well.

Ok, I have finally admitted to myself that the holiday season is now officially Just Around The Corner. I have to start gearing up for the super hardcore NASA program of logisticking everything from potluck dishes to party deco/planning to making that list and checking it twice (not to mention gathering and wrapping nearly everything on it). Whee! I do enjoy this kind of logisticking for the most part, but I can sense overwhelm lurking in its cave, waiting for a particularly distracted moment on my part so it can pop out and chomp me.

Speaking of overwhelm, I went to go see the neurologist yesterday. Good news: no, I don't have a brain tumor. Bad news: yes, I appear to have classic migraines, which are being triggered a lot right now by the fun hormonal cocktail of pregnancy, but also by the fact that my neck and shoulders are wound up tight like some sort of demonic rubber band balls. Her recommendation, aside from "take drugs, including caffeine, when you need 'em", was to get a massage once a week. Shyeah. Wouldn't that be awesome? I would LOVE to do that. I've always loved massage and the way it helps me. But even barring financial considerations, there's no way I'd have the precious spare time to do that. But I am going to try to be more conscious again about preventatively taking care of myself, whether that means getting massages, going to an extra yoga class, taking a bath (yes! I *will* use all those lovely bath products from LUSH that I keep hoarding for I don't know when), using a heating pad, doing some stretches in the mornings, whatever it takes. I have to keep reminding myself of the Oxygen Mask Theory of Parenting (e.g. take care of yourself first so that you can then take care of your family).

Ok I'm out of morsels for now. I guess that was more of a snack then a real smorgasbord, but ah well. There's always tomorrow.

And thickens, and thickens....til suddenly it carmelizes and becomes very hard to stir.

Actually the thick gooey plot I'm talking about here is the plot for my novel (bet you thought I was going to come up with some other fabulous and astounding health problem. Well, no.) I know I've said this before, but I still find myself astounded by it from time to time so I'll say it again: I have really wound up with something far, far more complicated and complex than I started with, and it keeps very nearly kicking my ass (at least as far as keeping it all straight).The crazy thing is that just when I think I've got one part of the story worked out/settled/pinned down, I realize that the other parts have gotten away from me and are merrily running around my mental house leaving nothing but havoc in their wake. I spent probably an hour earlier this evening discussing various plot threads (and power players, and motivations for various groups and characters, which led to more tangly plot threads) with my incredibly patient and supportive writer group gals, God bless (or should that be Goddess? Don't answer that.) their magnanimous souls. Given that I think best while talking (shameless extrovert that I am), this was immensely helpful to me, to be able to not only try to explain some of the stuff that's been only in my head (and thereby solidifying it for myself), but to also have some really good feedback as to whether or not certain things were workable (let alone interesting). As complicated as the plot stuff has gotten, I'm actually feeling sorta confident that it just might all work out somehow. I'm definitely getting closer.

I swear, next time I won't try to write something as complicated as "Dune" for my first novel. Sheesh. There have got to be easier ways to start out. But I have only myself (and my wacky writer's prediliction for reversals, drama and misdirection mixed with a healthy desire to be original in my worldbuilding) to blame, I suppose.

Ok, things are looking much better here in the gray, overcast light of day. The headache is gone, the antibiotics seem to have finally chased away all but the most stubbornly lingering phlegm pockets, and I'm finally feeling close enough to my ol' optimistic, sunny-side-up self such that I'm ready to give an exhaustive recounting of our perfect day at Disneyland. Read on for details. But if you just want a quick picture hit, here is Adrienne's Disneyland pictures page (mine will be up eventually but many of the photos will be the same).

I suspect there may be some sort of karmic scales o' justice sort of thing at work here. As wonderful as Saturday at Disneyland was (and yes I'll be getting to that in tomorrow's entry, hopefully), today was the horrible counterbalance, the dark side's vengeful payback for all that perfect day crap.

Today began with a migraine.

Not just any old "gee I feel like there's a red-hot spike being shoved through my skull" annoyance, oh no. This was the real deal (which makes me realize that most of my previous "migraine" attempts have been mere warmups, a weak and sneeringly pathetic form of rehearsal for today's spectacular performance). I like to think of myself as a pretty stoic, generally tough person when it comes to personal pain. Admittedly, I've had lots of practice with various permutations of illness and things that hurt. So for what it's worth, you can believe me when I tell you that this was approximately an 8 or 9 on a scale of 1 to 10 of pain, with 10 being childbirth and waking up after major abdominal surgery. It hurt so bad all I could do was lay in bed in the dark and cry and wait for it to go away. I tell you, there's Never A Dull Moment, and It's Always Something.

(More whining and detailed accounting of Migraine Day follows.)

Back from the Happiest Place On Earth, the Magic Kingdom, the House of Mouse, Disneyland. Exhausted from travel and kid wrangling and a loooooooooong day of running around the park itself yesterday, but feeling relatively calm and whelmed (as opposed to overwhelmed). Glad to be home. Also feeling good that yesterday's long anticipated taking-the-kid-to-Disneyland-for-the-first-time experience turned out to be pretty much a perfect storybook "I'll always remember this" kind of day. There is much to report. There will be many details (probably more than anyone really cared to know). There will certainly be a gazillion pictures, at some point. But for now, there is my own bed calling, and the relatively calm and whelmed part of me knows that the sensible thing to do is answer that call. ("Hello, Julie? It's your bed. Come sleep, you're still getting over being sick and dragging your big preggo self up, down and all over Disneyland didn't help. Come to sleeeeeep." "But Bed, there's pictures to play with! Email to catch up on! Blogs to read! Stuff to unpack!" "That crap can wait, darlin'. Come to me. You'll thank me in the morning when the kid wakes up at the crack of 6 to demand his new toys." "Awww, you're right, Bed. Of course you're right. Here I come.")

Mmmmm bed. And tonight I can almost breathe normally again! Woo!

Still sick. Still tired. Still overwhelmed. Still whiny. But by God I WILL be better by tomorrow, so I can drive to Disneyland and have a good time. Or at least not a miserable, suffering, snot-filled, bone-sucking tired time. Is that so much to ask? Work, you miserable antibiotics, WORK! I command thee! Gimme that ol' magic bullet! I, the petulant "want-it-now" boorish entitled American, want to feel better RIGHT NOW!!!

Ahem. I do believe that was my outside voice. Fingers moving too quick for censorship mechanism to catch up. Too late! Onward!

I've been trying not to read the news today, but I keep getting sucked in. I feel like post-election, the world should be different somehow--bleaker, darker, with people randomly being mean to me on the streets or on the phone. But strangely, nothing has changed (yet). Things seem to just keep on keepin' on, in much the same way as they always do. It's almost creepy. Shouldn't the world be dissolving into flames and noxious, roiling clouds of black greasy smoke right about now, with cackling demons poking red hot tridents into our backs to keep us moving along the slave assembly line? Maybe I'm getting just a bit carried away. It probaby will take at least another 6 months before we get to the assembly line stage.

In other, happier news, I just watched the trailer for Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Ok, dammit, I'm excited. It looks chock full o' whiz bang flashy fighty cool over the top space opera. I'll be there on opening night, you know I will. Bread and circuses, baby. Fill 'er up.

So much for hope. Today was one of those days I would gladly have given up the memory of to some memory-sucking monster/witch, in order to get one of my comrades' souls back from hell or something like that. What I'm trying to say is, today sucked. Depressing though not entirely unexpected election news (despite many a friend's and fellow blogger's attempt to put a positive spin/silver lining on things, I still feel the pull of despair), lots of crap to do, and on top of everything else, I'm still sick and getting worse. Even the eternal inexhaustible optimist in me had a tough time today. But ok, I'll try. I guess my ray of sunlight in the literally dark and stormy day was going to my OB appointment and 1) getting to hear the baby's heartbeat, and 2) getting a prescription for antibiotics. Wish I could give our country an antibiotic for this odd malaise of insular, xenophobic, warmongering, ignorant intolerance that half of us seem to have contracted. Ugh. I don't even want to talk about it.

In other news, I finally posted all those Halloween pix (and misc others), as promised. The link's right there on the right. Go look at how cute my kid is...maybe you'll feel better. And then maybe you can make me feel better.

Lots to say, and so little energy/time/brainspace. I got sick on Saturday and still haven't managed to shake it, so I'm moving way slower than usual.

Speaking of Saturday, let me back up a bit. Saturday morning we went to Eli's school for a cute (if somewhat disorganized) carnival. The kids wore their costumes, and got to eat sweets and play games and run around with their buddies. There was a "cake walk", bobbing for apples, arts & crafts, gourd tossing, donuts on strings, and even a haunted house. Josh's parents and my dad came with us for lots of grandparental kvelling (and picture taking). After the carnival, Josh, his parents, and Eli went to the movies to see Shark Tale (which the overly stimulated Eli apparently fell asleep during, so that's your movie review I guess), and I went to Petaluma to hang with the writer's group gals. I didn't really get any writing done (too much catch up chatting), but did get a chance to at least air some of the plot issues I've been twisted up in. It was at this point that I realized I had a fever and was probably going to be pretty sick soon.

Nonetheless (because I was determined to have my grownup fun, dammit), we met up with Dri and Jim around 5ish and got all dressed up in our various kinds of zombie costumes (Josh was a zombie sorcerer, I was a zombie Fertility Fairy, Jim was a zombie priest, and Dri was a zombie J.A.P.--well, technically she was a golem). Then we left Eli with Nana and Baba and drove out to Rancho Nicasio for dinner and the Lee Press-On and the Nails show (their last one ever). It was a great place, a good dinner, and a really fun show, although as the evening progressed even the Sudafed and Tylenol couldn't prevent me from sloooooowly fading into o-bleah-vion. We left around midnight (though the show was still going).

Sunday, we took Eli to a friend's house for a lunchtime playdate (this was the first time we'd met the parents for more than a few minutes of chatting during drop off), which worked out really well, and Eli had a great time. Then we had a purposely low key afternoon during which Josh napped, Eli watched a movie, and I actually started (and nearly finished) the painting I'd promised to do for my friend Chris' book of short stories--my first painting in over a year. (Nothing like a deadline to get you motivated.) Even though I was tired and still sick, it was great to do some painting again. It came back pretty easily, I must say. I'm hoping to do some more soon (yeah yeah, in all my copious spare time. Bite me.) Although in doing that painting, it was clear that I'll definitely need to do some physical rearrangements and possibly even find new equipment (e.g. a side table w/ drawers for holding supplies, a better easel) before I do this again too many more times.

Sunday night, of course, we went trick-or-treating! First we did a few houses in our own neighborhood, just for warm up (it was pretty tame, I must admit), and then we went over to the Coxes, whose neighborhood always goes all out for Halloween. By the time we got there, Maddie and Carson had already been out and were done with all their trick or treating, but Michelle gamely came out with Josh and Eli and me and we got our fill of the cool decorations and of course, lots more candy. Eli had a great time, and wasn't scared at all this year. He was absolutely adorable. Pictures tomorrow, really, I promise.

Yesterday (Monday) I woke up still feeling crappy, and decided that it would probably be smart to stay home from work for once, and nap and take it easy on the theory that I might actually get over the cold faster. I almost never take sick days for myself unless I'm deathly ill, which is kind of stupid, I know. But with pregnancy as an excuse this time, I decided to go for it. So after dropping the kid off at school, I came back home, puttered for a bit, and then took a solid deepsleep 2 hour nap. (I was awakened by kids screaming in the backyard during their lunchtime recess--ugh.) Then I puttered a bit more, read a magazine, processed some digipix, and finished my painting. By the time I'd taken the digipix of the painting and fooled around with cropping and contrast and all that, Josh was home with the kid and I was back on duty while he went out to yoga.

Unfortunately Eli had been tuckered out and fallen asleep in the car on the way home, so I had to wake him up for dinner, which triggered a nasty tantrum. But he eventually woke up all the way and recovered nicely in time for mac 'n cheese, and we even had fun trying all kinds of halloween candy together for dessert. (Watching him eat Laffy Taffy was a crack up--I told him it was called that because it makes you laugh when you eat it, so every once in awhile Eli would bust out with a totally fake "I'm-taking-over-the-world" evil cackle. It was hilarious.) Then it was bath and bed for Eli, and once he was down I spent my evening studying my ballot and all the editorials, mailers, and websites I'd gathered. I wanted to blog last night but somehow by the time I finished with my ballot it was bedtime and I knew I'd better get the sleep. And I slept really really poorly last night too, so I'm glad I did. (I had horrible nightmares, actually. Josh's response to that this morning was "oh, did you dream Bush won?" Har har.)

Today I woke up really bleary and stuffy but decided to go to work anyway, since I'm that kind of stupid. We did the morning crazies and then Josh went to vote, then he came back and took Eli off to Dawn's house and I went to vote on my way in to work. I have to say--I have *never* seen my sleepy little community center polling place so busy. When I got there at 8:45am there was a steady stream of people going in and out, and once I got inside (there was really no line to speak of) I was already #94 (usually I'm something like 20 or 30). There were backups of people waiting for a booth to vote in, amazingly. I've never seen that happen. I chatted a bit with the pollworker, and she too said that she'd never seen it so busy. We were both heartened at the great turnout and hoped it would happen again in other elections--maybe people would actually get in the habit of voting every time. Anyway, once I got to the booth the process was simple and as I left everyone seemed very cheerful. I got my "I Voted" sticker and everything.

I have to say, if there's one thing I hope comes out of this crazy, anxiety-provoking, too-close-to-call election, it's that we all as citizens have a renewed appreciation for the fact that we live in a country where we can (and must) vote--it is both our duty and our priviledge to make our opinions known. (And I think that means that it is our duty and our priviledge to form informed opnions, not just rely on TV commercials and pundits to tell us what to think.) I hope that the youth vote, as well as other traditionally disenfranchised or at least apathetic groups *do* turn out in unprededented numbers for this election, and remember that feeling of power enough to keep doing it in future elections. I hope that we as a country use these last two elections (2000 and now) to really jumpstart some thoughtful reform on how democracy can and should work, as far as the electoral process goes. (I mean come on, if we as humans and Americans are capable of creating and maintaining something as technically complicated as the Internet and space travel, surely we can come up with safe, effective, easy, unbiased ways to count votes, can't we?)

All that being said, I'm still shocked at how close this election is. Yes, I know that the closeness of the race might possibly be being played up by the media, looking for a dramatic story, but even still--with all the clear indicators about how poorly our current president is doing (both domestically and internationally), why isn't Kerry easily beating the proverbial pants off him? I am really concerned for how deeply divided this country is--and I can't help but think that it will only get worse. Coasts vs. heartlands? Class warfare? The manufacture of consent? What is it? I don't even pretend to be educated enough on the subject to offer a really good opinion. I still cling to my old golden rule type personal mottos ("Can't we all get along?" and "Be excellent to each other." spring to mind), and just find myself shaking my head in wonderment at how bitter and divisive and well, just plain hateful people seem to want to be much of the time. Maybe it's not that I *don't* understand it--maybe it's just that the optimist, Pollyanna/Anne Frank part of me just doesn't want to believe it.

Anyway...rant over. (/rant, for you geeks out there) Tonight we're going to go hang out with good friends and watch the election returns on TV and generally hope for the best. It can't hurt to hope for just a little while longer.