January 2005 Archives

I don't think I've admitted this here before, but I'm a hardcore foodie, at least as much as my budget, spare time and attention span permit. I mean, I don't subscribe to Gourmet Magazine or watch the Food Network or know the names of celebrity chefs or any of that, but I have years of experience in fine dining under my belt and there are few things that make me as happy as sharing a truly spectacular and creative meal. That being said, it wasn't the completely perfect dining experience ever (that award still has to go to the dinner Josh and I had with our foodie friends Jayme and Michelle at French Laundry years ago), but Holy Moses, I swear the meal I had tonight with my girlfriends at Frisson (a new and apparently outrageously trendy restaurant near the Embarcadero in SF) was nearly a spiritual experience, and chef Daniel Patterson is my new prophet.

Let's get the less-perfect stuff out of the way first: the decor was certainly beautiful but a bit on the "so hip I can't see over my pelvis" side (reminded me of several other "concept" decor places I've been to in New York), and the service was good but not outstanding. The room was also a little too noisy for my taste--the oh-so-cool clubby music combined with the room acoustics and the big vaulted ceiling made it hard to hear not only the waiter but the other friends around the table, and that was annoying.

But the food. Oh my God the food. So creative, such artistic and unusual combinations, so intensely flavored, each bite was literally a tongue-sparkling, mouth-exploding joy. Ummm. I had a delicious non-alcoholic cocktail of almond, orange, grapefruit and vanilla sugar blended with just a little ice, followed by a shared small plate of sea scallops with jicama-green apple relish and meyer lemon vinaigrette, then a main course of sliced duck breast served with "dirty" rice and baby bok choy that was pretty much as perfectly delicious of a duck dish as I've ever had. Desserts (I'm just not doing them justice by calling one a deconstructed lemon meringue pie topped with black pepper meringue and served with cranberry sorbet and one a panko'd chocolate ganache with a liquid center and about a trillion little creative sauces scattered about the plate), which we shared, were actually even more creative and outstanding than the meal, which is saying a lot. I wish I wasn't so tired, I'd do it more justice and write better food porn. Suffice to say that if you're a foodie and looking for something really exquisite and different, hie thee hence, ASAP. You won't be sorry.

I swear I try not to do this too often, but I just don't have the time left in the day to post anything good tonight (strangely, I'm not actually exhausted like I usually am, but I'm trying to do that pre-emptive sleeping thing). I hope to make up for this pathetic-excuse-for-an-entry tomorrow. But just so I don't forget, here were today's highlights:

Writer's group BIC at the 'Box (lots of talking, a little writing)
Cleaning out the baby's room (almost done!)
Super lovey Eli day (God, I really do love my kid)
Date night (again!) with Josh, including stimulating dinner convo and more cafe writing time
Running into a good friend at said cafe and having fun catch up convo
Cribbage and the next installment of teenage soap opera with the 14 year old babysitter

Ok that's it. Must go to bed.

Josh and I had a lovely date night (just like real grownups!) tonight--we went out to see live theater at the Marin Theatre Company, courtesy of my parents, who gave us their season tickets for this month, since they're away on vacation. Our friend Matt came to babysit (Eli was SO stoked, because Matt is one of those rare and wonderful "uncles" who actually has enough energy and creativity to keep up with a nearly-four year old who wants to play pirate for hours). We saw the play "Fortune", which was a very cute comedy about a fortune teller and a nebbishe client looking for love, and how they both learn how to break out of what they each think their lives are supposed to hold for them (their destinies) in order to find love with each other. It was nicely done, predictable (hah) but well written, and very well acted. I love live theater, and it's such a treat to see a good production. Makes me hark back to all the drama classes and stage plays I used to be involved in, all the way up through college. Just like the teaching stuff, the thespian life was another originally well-traveled road that I veered off at some point, and I miss it sometimes.

Destiny, fate, self-fulfilling propehecies, roads not taken...why are these themes continually coming up for me right now? If I didn't know better I'd say that someone or something was trying to tell me something.

So I've been doing some research (defined as lazily poking around Google) on the actual term "parentheticals". This was brought on by a friendly email from a lawyer in Ohio who had apparently also decided to name his blog "Parentheticals", and then a couple months later did a belated Google search on the term himself and discovered me. (I'm not sure if he's going to keep the name Parentheticals or not, but his blog is certainly very different than mine--it's a lot of long, thoughtful musings on politics, policy, and other big poli-sci stuff from what seems to be a generally liberal-type position.)

It's interesting that this guy is a lawyer though (or, at least works in some sort of legal profession), because apparently one of the places that the term "parentheticals" crops up often is, yes, in legal writing, to embed citations and other references into the text. (It's used this way in academic writing too, which I suppose is one of the places I learned it.) So it's not that surprising that the term "parentheticals" might occur to a legal type as a good noun.

The other common place that the term "parentheticals" crops up is in screenwriting, where parentheticals are used to embed directions or other bits of scene description to the actors within dialogue. For example:

JULIA
(reeling, then with growing hysteria)
Someone else named their blog "Parentheticals"? How could they? Don't they know I was here first? It's my idea, I tell you, mine! I've slaved over this blog for 9 months now, I will not be co-opted!

JOSH
(soothingly)
Relax, honey, it's no big deal. Put the scissors down. Want a cookie?

Yeah, like that. Too bad I'm not a screenwriter--this would have been quite a cutesy name for a blog that, for example, gave lessons on screenwriting or gave insights into a professional screenwriter's or actor's life or something like that. What's interesting to me here is that the screenwriter's parentheticals serve in some of the same ways as the literary equivalent of adverbs (which I have already admitted my addiction to in my fiction writing). In other words, parentheticals are one way for an author to sneak in the emotional context of a scene as s/he sees it (regardless of whether or not the actors agree and actually use said context). I see this blog as doing a lot of that--sneaking in the emotional context of a life in between the straightforward recording of events and thoughts. (Is that too strained a connection? I don't care. Nyah.)

But the main use of the term "parentheticals" is the most generic, where parentheticals simply refer to "asides" (supposedly qualifying or explanatory) within a writer's main thought. This is the usage which prompted me to name my blog Parentheticals, because I wanted it to be a place to put all my own little writerly and personal asides that I felt like sharing (extroverted exhibitionist that I am), things which weren't fitting neatly into any other format. And really, as I said way back in the beginning of this blog, I've come to accept that the parenthetical style is my style. I have a hard time fitting my thoughts neatly into linear format (though, after years of practice, I can certainly do it if I have to--but why do I have to here in my own personal writerly space?). I'm forever qualifying and explaining and offering asides, going off in a variety of directions. Thus, Parentheticals seemed like a damn good name for this blog. And I think it's become even more so over the months I've been writing it.

Ok, now you know more about parentheticals and Parentheticals than you probably wanted to know. Class dismissed.

Wow. I got a decent night's sleep, even though the kid woke us up at 6am complaining that he didn't feel good. Makes all the difference, attitudinally speaking. As Dri said to me earlier today: "pre-emptive sleeping...it's all the rage."

So I stayed home with the kid today, who not only said he had stomach pains (which isn't surprising in hindsight, given that he refused to eat dinner the night before), but who seemed, in the early early light of morning, to be feverish and lethargic. However, once enough cream cheese vehicles were administered and Muppet Treasure Island watched, he perked up considerably. Unfortunately at that point it was kind of too late to bring him to daycare, so he and I had a quiet day home together watching movies, coloring, eating more cream cheese vehicles, showering, etc. He took a two+ hour nap towards the middle of the afternoon, which gave me time to actually do a couple things, including paint a painting (yay! I broke in my easel!), install some software, read a few pages of my book group book, etc. Not too bad.

When Josh got home Eli was still sleeping and we switched out so I could go to prenatal yoga class (which went pretty well tonight). It hadn't been raining when I went in to the studio, so it didn't even occur to me to bring an umbrella with me, but when we emerged from the class, it was POURING. Now, here's a little known fact about me: I don't like to get wet, unless I'm prepared or expecting to (say, on a river rafting trip or something). If there's rain, I'm always suited up in waterproof shoes, coat, and umbrella, at minimum. I am not one of those people who romanticizes walking through the rain without an umbrella, or who likes to splash in puddles without appropriate waterproof footwear. Because I hate the feeling of wearing wet clothes, I suppose--and now that I'm a glasses wearer, I hate not being able to see through the rain on my glasses. Anyway, I had to walk from the studio to my car in fairly heavy rain. Luckily I didn't have my purse with me, and nothing I was wearing was damagable by water or anything, so it was really just a matter of being wet. And you know what? It wasn't so bad. I had a couple of layers on so I didn't get wet to the skin, and I was still in a good mood (endorphin high) from yoga, so I actually didn't mind too much. Does this mean I've managed to throw off the yoke of my distaste (or free myself from a neurotic tic, as the case may be)? Not really. But it's good to know that I don't always have to be bound by it.

Ok enough random rambles. It's nearly 11 and I truly should go to bed if I want to keep a good mood tomorrow.

Some days even one more minute of consciousness is just too exhausting/overwhelming/unpleasant to contemplate. So I'm going to bed. I hear that things are supposed to look different in the morning.

I can't rid myself of this sneaking suspicion that the Universe is trying to toughen me up a little in preparation for my impending parent-of-a-newborn lifestyle. Last night I thought I was being soooo good by going to bed before 10, trying to catch up on some of the sleep that's been eluding me lately. And I was. But then I was irrevocably awakened at around 1am by Josh plopping a half-asleep shamefaced kid in our bed while he went to go change the sheets upon which said kid had had an "accident". Cute as it was to snuggle up with Eli for awhile, my sleeping momentum was shot (not to mention the kid started to snore like a buzz saw). I eventually had to get up and go lie on the couch for a few hours watching the Daily Show until my brain was willing to shut off again, sometime around 4am I think. Then I was awoken at 6am by the stupid cat, who had been locked out of the bedroom. After letting her back in, I went back to the couch and slept until around 7:30, when a bright and perky Eli came out and chirpily announced that it was morning time and therefore time to get up. Ugh.

I'm coming to grips with the idea that this third trimester/final stretch of pregnancy thing is just...well, tiring. Sort of like the first trimester was, but with far fewer comfortable sleeping position options and more water retention. I can almost feel the brain cells and the energy levels leaking away, day by day.

And on that note I am suddenly so tired that I think I must quickly close the computer and go fall clumsily into bed before my head hits the keyboard and I do either myself or it some sort of embarrassing permanent damage.

Oh my God it's the cutest thing ever: my kid is in love. In a totally age-appropriate, completely innocent kind of way, of course. There's a girl in his class named Liza, who's about his age, and blond and blue eyed like him, and I don't know why, but she is apparently the one on whom the sun rises and sets for Eli. (He's told me they're going to get married, as a matter of fact.) And like any parent, I am probably one of the last to actually know about this new love--his teachers told me today that they've known for weeks, and that the two of them are adorable together: sitting together, holding hands, playing together at play time, you know. I saw them together this morning when I dropped Eli off at school--the minute Liza arrived, Eli's eyes brightened and he ran over to her and grabbed her hand and off the two of them walked together, for all the world like an old couple strolling in the park. I talked to Liza's mom for a minute and she said that Liza's been talking nonstop about Eli and that she'd told her mom that Eli had said they'd get married.

So. Damn. Cute. Ok, I know that an almost-four year old has no idea what it means to be married, or even to have a girlfriend. But I still get all kinds of parental joy out of watching my kid be so obviously into someone else, someone his own age. I'm trying to enjoy it now while it's still fresh and innocent and she can't really break his heart (or, by extension, mine).

Another good day, of the "filled with grownup pleasures" sort that I feel like I'll only have a short time left to enjoy before they disappear completely into the new baby/small child black hole for a year or two. After a big breakfast of French toast and sausage with all the friends who'd stayed the night after last night's PJ party (plus Dri and Jim, who came over just for breakfast), Dri and I took off and went to go see Finding Neverland. Not only was it truly a terrific movie, IMHO--one of the best I think I've EVER seen, let alone the best in a long time--but it was a lovely adult pleasure to amble off to a grownup movie in the middle of the day with a friend.

Other highlights of the day included a run to the Container Store for additional plastic tubs to organize baby clothes in and something with which to organize my painting supplies, a nap, and some organization of the baby's room/closet with the aforementioned tubs (just having the floor finally begin to appear in there made me feel oh so much more in control of my life, and that's always a good thing). Then we got a babysitter to come over and Josh and I took off for a combination date night/belated birthday celebration. We went out for a quick dinner of sushi (cooked, sadly, but whatcha gonna do) and now as I'm writing this we're sitting in a café, each of us with our computers on our laps, while Josh reads my novel and I fool around with outlines and plot complications and, of course, this blog entry (so that when I can get home I can just post this and go straight to bed--clever, eh?). Mmm, sushi and hanging out in a cafe--two things you just can't do with a small child in tow, at least not in the same way.

So yeah, overall it's been a good revisiting of one of those increasingly-viewed-through-rose-colored-glasses days that I remember from pre-parenthood, a blast from a past life, so to speak. It's simultaneously a delightful experience in and of itself, a trip down memory lane tinged with a bit of wistfulness, and an odd, alien state of being that I just can't quite legimately access any more. (Damn this postmodern self-consciousness!)

Ok, I call a "get-out-of-blog-free" card for not posting yesterday by midnight cos it was my birthday and I was just too busy all day with fun stuff to actually sit down and post. (The sad part is I actually thought about posting several times yesterday, but then I was saved by that special combination of laziness and rationalization that I call uniquely my own.) I'm gonna backdate this post anyway, just so I can have the sheer visual satisfaction of continuing to have every little number in the monthly calendar turn purple. Nyah nyah.

Anyway, yeah, so yesterday--er, I mean TODAY (aw screw it you know what I mean)--was my birthday. I turned the fine square number of 36. A nice stable number, right? So this can be a nice stable year? Suuuuuuuuure it can.

I always have gotten a kick out of my birthday, ever since I was a kid. I'm a big believer in the Seussian version of birthdays, where that one day is completely and unabashedly all about you, and about other people in your life celebrating your existence. Why not? We all need a good shot of self-esteem as often as possible, but a birthday seems like a particularly convenient excuse to get one. I have the extra added layer of birthday goodness every year now, since I was literally diagnosed with cancer on my birthday (as I recall I said something snotty and self-pitying to the doctor right after she'd gently broken the bad news to me, like "well, happy fucking birthday"). So now every birthday I have seems like a personal "nyah nyah, still here" out to the Forces of Chaos that tried to take me down (but failed! Ha! Who's yer mama! I'm on fire! Look out!). It's a good feeling.

So yesterday's--uh, today's--birthday fun started out with me getting to sleep in a bit, and then get up and have yummy breakfast with my boys, and then zooming out to the city to meet Daphne for girly shopping and lunchy time. We met at Flax, an artsy fartsy fancy schmancy art supply store on Market Street, and I got to buy myself lots and lots of really good paint to play with (to go with my awesome easel and all the other supplies Josh funded for me as a Hanukkah present). I also bought Eli some sparkle paints and a cute little artist's smock and brushes, so he could paint next to me on his easel (yes, a mama artist's dream). After that Daph and I headed over to Union Square for lunch at an adorable little French bistro (Bastille Cafe) and a bit of shopping at Macy's (I restrained myself, really--I didn't buy anything. I was just there for moral support.)

After my fun day in the city, I came home and relieved a frazzled Josh by showing Eli his new paint supplies, which he wanted to use RIGHT NOW, so we did that for awhile. I didn't get to paint myself because I was too busy getting Eli all set up, but it was still satisfying and good for the parental soul to watch him have so much fun. The only downside to the day came after that, when poor spun out non-napping Eli started to melt down over a confrontation over what to eat for dinner, and we had to resort to some time outs and stern words. But after a good cry he felt better and after he ate dinner he felt even better (go figure), so the evening was saved. After the drama, we cleaned up a little in preparation for people coming over while Josh made a fabulous Chicken Cordon Bleu with Mushroom Sauce for my birthday dinner.

After dinner we put Eli to bed (and he conked right out, not surprisingly) and then had the tribe over for a PJ Party in honor of both my and Bert (my Aquarian birthday-mate)'s birthday. We also honored Cammie and Quinn, both fellow Aquarians (although born on different days than we).

I figured since I couldn't go out and party party (being 8 months preggo and all), we'd do a classic kid type sleepover, with board games and lots of sweets. It was definitely a retrocool experience and we had tons of fun--we played cribbage, Taboo, and even Operation (as well as Flux, Settlers of Catan and other stuff). And whoo, we ate waaaaaaaaaaayyyyy too much sugary stuff (cookies, cupcakes, gelato, candy of all types)--you just can't pack it away the same once you're past adolescence, sadly. I stayed up to seriously ungodly hours (I think I drifted off in the living room amongst the crowd somewhere around 2am and then finally gave up and went to bed around 3am) but despite waking up at 8 this morning (uh, tomorrow morning?), I feel pretty good. For now.

It was a great birthday! I love my friends, I love my family, I love still being here on this crazy cool complex planet living the life I live. I'm looking forward to many many more years of this great adventure.

It's amazing what a decent (note I do not say "great") night's sleep can do for you. Not to mention a bit of caffeine. I was in a pretty good mood today.

'Course, I had all these grand plans for this evening ("I'll paint! I'll write! I'll call friends! I'll fix my family photos html!"), as I was driving home feeling perky and awake (for once). But not surprisingly, a couple of hours of kid wrangling, the distraction of a new cel phone (my birthday present from Josh), a full tummy and that good ol' ash-end-of-the-evening slump have sabotaged me yet again. So I'm settling for blogging, and then maybe crawling into bed with a book.

******

Tonight I'm thinking about roads not taken and the mysterious ways in which we're tossed around in our lives--by circumstance, by fate, by destiny, by serendipity, by coincidence, by God/the Universe, by sheer stubborn willpower, or just by plain ol' pure luck/chance/random happenstance. Yes, it's true that destiny and self-fulfilling prophecies are a main theme of the novel I'm writing (or avoiding writing at this particular moment by blogging instead, as the case may be), but what actually brought this thought chain on was a brief conversation with my sis-in-law earlier tonight. She's just completed her teaching credential and her student teaching and is launching off into a brave new career as a high school teacher (which I really admire). We were talking about how great she feels about what she's doing and how much she loves teaching, and she said to me "I always thought you were a great teacher". And it got me to thinking about that whole era of my life when I was in grad school and striving towards the goal of being a college professor. That particular road--the teacher's road, the academic's road--is one I haven't looked back on in quite some time (let alone traveled down), which is a little sad to me, given how important and well traveled it once was for me. If things had just gone a little bit differently--if I'd had a better mentor, if I hadn't had a huge life changing experience right at the beginning of grad school that irrevocably shaped my experience, if I'd been somewhere else, if the planets had aligned differently somehow, I don't know--I could still be on that path.

I'm not so much sad about having diverged from that path onto another one--I'm generally happy with where my life is right now--but I do find myself missing certain things I used to see/do/play with along the way when I was on that teacher's path. Truly, I don't miss the academic politics and other bullshit that made me quit after putting in 5 long years struggling towards my goal. But I do miss teaching. Specifically, I really miss the experience of standing up in front of a class and talking about something I find interesting, of starting up discussions, of encouraging people to really think critically about things or look at things a certain way or from a particular perspective. (I certainly don't miss the grading, in case you were wondering.) My sis-in-law isn't wrong: I *was* good at it. It's one of the few things about myself I can actually say that about without reservations or some strange urge towards modesty: I was a good teacher. I understand people, I like them, and I've always been what they euphemistically call on resumes and report cards "a good communicator". With my years of drama background and study of things like conversation analysis and social psychology/social interaction, I know how to hold an audience, how to engage both individuals and groups and even, dare I say, inspire them.

So, what happened? How did I allow myself to diverge/be diverted away from what often was and could have continued to be a good road, off into the unknown? And should I start looking for a way back to that other road? After all, I've recently learned that one can and sometimes does go back to old roads--I feel like that's what I've been doing with my writing (being a writer is an even older road for me than being a teacher, one I first pursued in middle school and high school). So what's stopping me from figuring out a way to get back to teaching somehow, even if it's not through the previous means (grad school and a PhD, or even a teaching credential)? Is it under my control, in which case I'd better quit whining and get off my butt and just walk on back over to that other road? Or do I have to just be patient and trust that where I'm at right now is where I'm supposed to be, for reasons I just can't quite see yet from my limited perspective, and that when the time is right I'll get back to the teaching somehow, enriched by everything that's come before?

See, going back to that earlier idea of fate/destiny/serendipity etc etc, I generally find myself in one of two moods. Usually, I reassure myself with the thought that the Universe is watching out for me--in other words, that even if I can't see it now from my embedded, limited perspective, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. In this mood I tell myself that all I have to do is just keep on doing what I'm doing right now, in other words, keep building up experiences that will prove to be crucially important (if only understandable as so in hindsight) to wherever it is I'm going, whether that's heading back to an old road or forging off onto a wholly new one. That's the "fate/destiny" or the "trust in a higher power" mood, and it's good for when I'm feeling connected to some sort of "the world has a pattern and a plan" place.

But I don't always have that confidence that there is a grand plan (let alone a grand architect of said plan) out there. So the other mood that I get in is a kind of "free will", "pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, you whiny mofo" kind of mood. And that's a harder, scarier place to be, so I tend to shy away from this mood most of the time. But is it scarier because it's truer? At what point *am* I the captain of my own soul, to bring in yet another classic, overused poetic analogy? If I want to go back to teaching, why don't I find a way to make that happen in my life, right now, right here?

Yes, yes, it's that classic and hoary "free will vs determinism" kind of debate that makes philosophers like Josh yawn, no doubt. But nonetheless, it's on my mind tonight. I don't know which philosophical road to take, but I know I can't take both (she said, impatiently smooshing all her carefully constructed metaphors together). Maybe I'll just sit here at this nice autumnal forest crossroads and look around for a little while longer.

Ok it's only 10pm tonight, but I swore I'd be in bed by now since I had a crappy night's sleep last night (Eli woke us up at around 2:30am because he'd had a bad dream...even though we got him back to sleep right away, I was insomnia girl for another hour or so. Ugh.). But I thought I'd at least report that my prenatal yoga class was easier tonight, for some reason, which gives me hope. And Eli was particularly cute tonight, as he was doing his pre-bedtime stalling ("I love you, Mama", "I love you too, Eli", "I love you, Daddy", "I love you too, Eli", "All the people here love me.")

Also, in lieu of actually taking the time to fully write any cute Eli stories myself, I will direct you to this destined-to-be-a-classic Eli/Daddy dialogue as recorded by Josh in his blog. I laughed so hard I literally had tears running down my cheeks.

I swear I'll get back to some sort of more interesting blog entry soon. Really I will.

11pm again. How does this keep happening? I've hit that oh-my-god-I'm-so-tired-I-think-I-think-fainting-right-here-sounds-good phase. The only reason I'm stil blogging is cos I'm too tired to get off the couch and haul my big bloated body to bed. Even undressing seems like too much work. But it's not like I'm going to be making any witty or introspective points here either. But anyway I couldn't give up the daily blog habit. Yet.

So yeah. This is me. Too tired. Blogging anyway. Frikkin' stubborn. G'night.

I somehow put off blogging until 11pm tonight, so I'm going to "cheat" and merely direct you to this fun site that I spent way too much time poking around on today, in search of pirate themed partyware and activities for Eli's upcoming 4th birthday party (sorry Buzz, you've been replaced with a new obsession between Halloween and now...preschoolers are just so fickle that way). Shiver me timbers! A parent could be tempted to blow waaaaaaaaaayyyyyy too much cash on all these fun goodies, I tell ya. Hold me back. Arrrr.

Went to breakfast at Easy Street with the Nevada City Dvorins and the Kentfield Dvorins. Chaos ensued but delicious breakfast was eaten. Spent an additional hour at the Millennium Playground with the fam, topped off by heartbreaking cousin goodbyes.

Had my car fixed (some random recall) and as a bonus, it got washed and vaccumed.

Josh tore apart the wooden facings of the garage doors and beams to discover all kinds of rot and termites. Home repair projects are always worse than you think.

I finally put away all the Christmas stuff, and set up my painting/scrapbooking area. Josh set up my new easel. I'm ready to paint!

The Armentas came over for playdate and pizza dinner. Jen and I got in some great hangout time (first with the kids and then without) while the guys did sekrit comic ninja stuff.

I actually made myself go to bed on time.

Good things about today:
-Having fun and interesting conversations with writer's group gals
-Getting new fun French music from Suzanne
-Getting some writing done
-Moving from place to place and tightly scheduled event to event like well oiled clockwork--it all worked out perfectly today
-A perfectly lovely and relatively relaxed couple of hours with family at the new and improved Discovery Museum in Sausalito
-A nice little visit and incredibly good cajun dinner at Elite Cafe in SF with good friends whom I haven't seen in far too long
-A bantering game of cribbage with the cute little 14 year old babysitter after we got home
-Knowing that tomorrow is a holiday (bonus! I win!)

Not so good things about today:
-5am insomnia for an hour or so
-Not getting enough writing done
-A really sore shoulder
-Family politics
-Feeling like a bloated whale
-Writer's envy
-Going to bed too late

Gngh. I've got a headache. It makes me realize that it's actually been awhile since I've had any headaches (which is good), but I'm really hoping this is not the beginning of the triumphant return of the migraines (which would be, say it with me now, baaaaaaad). So I'll just do a quick journal entry "here's what I did today" and then go get off the computer. No, really.

This morning I was woken up earlier than I wanted to be by the cat (argh) and then when Eli got up, he and I hung out together while Josh slept. Because I was bored and hungry I decided that we should go out to breakfast--so Eli and I hopped in the car for a quick trip to the mall for Jamba Juice and breakfast at the bagel store (bagel with cream cheese for the kid, chicken sausage bagel dog for me). Then we came back home and did some coloring (Eli's alllllll about coloring right now--he is actually a really conscientious and careful colorer, who always wants to make sure things are the "correct" color and who always stays within the lines--it's pretty amazing actually, for a 3 year old).

Around 12:30, my friend Linda came by and we took off together for Berkeley to meet our friend Michelene for lunch. We had a lovely chatty car ride and a lovely chatty leisurely lunch, after which Mich had to run but Linda and I got to spend some time shopping on 4th Street and at the Art Store. The highlight for me was that I bought a new easel at the Art Store! (Josh gave me a gift certificate for art supplies for Hanukkah, with the express command to go buy myself and easel and some more paints and such...how cool is that?) I can't wait to try it out. Tomorrow looks pretty scheduled, but I'm hoping that Monday (which is a holiday, being MLK Day), I'll have a little time to start setting up the studio. A girl can dream. ;)

I got home around 5ish and Mom, Dad, Jonah and Zinnie were all over here for a playdate (Dave and Keri were out in the city). It was quiet when I got here, with all the adults plus Zinnie in the living room, and no boys to be seen, which should have made us all suspicious. When we checked on the boys, who had been "quietly" playing in Eli's room, we found that the entire room was a maelstrom of toy bits. I mean, not just toys taken out and played with and flung hither and yon, which often happens when a friend is over to play (heck it happens just with Eli), but toy bits. As in, apparently somebody (which one? We'll never know, but of course I suspect it wasn't MY kid) had the bright idea to thoroughly (and I *do* mean thoroughly) disassemble all kinds of toys (including his two new pirate ships and the accompanying shore battery, as well as all kinds of Star Wars toys, not to mention his bed linens) and stash the pieces all over the place (under the bed, under the dresser, in the hamper, in the dresser drawers, etc etc). To say that we adults were not pleased at this effect is putting it mildly. And when asked to help clean up, the kids first hid under the bed and then were slow and bratty about it. So the playdate ended with all of us in somewhat of a bad temper. (Yeah, that's probably why I have a headache, come to think of it.)

Once it was quiet again and we'd cleaned up and had dinner, we all managed to recover (though Eli did have a tantrum about me not letting him take the top off his yogurt, which I think was due more to general no-nap exhaustion and cousin playdate overstimulation than to anything else). We had some quiet family snuggle time on the couch, and then put the kid to bed. And now Josh and I have had some quiet adult time, each of us sitting around doing stuff on our respective computers, and although I had some grand plans to do some edits on one of my novel chapters and/or do a witty and fascinating blog entry, I don't think it's gonna happen. I'm thinking bath, a magazine and bed time are more likely (and yes, probably better for me, okay okay).

So tonight's tightly scheduled entertainment was zipping out to the city right after work to go see Wil Wheaton do a reading and signing for his new book, Just a Geek. I'm glad we pushed and logisticked to go see him...even though we wound up being about 20 minute late for the event, it was great. He was relaxed, and funny, and personable, and just a pleasure to watch. He read two long stories ("The Saga of Spongebob Vegaspants" and the one about his ephiphany on the Star Trek Experience ride in Vegas), answered questions from the very well behaved crowd, and then sat and signed books and pressed the flesh with fans (there were something like 200 people there for the reading, and about half stayed for the signing) for at least a couple hours (we were towards the back of the line but not all the way, and it took us nearly 2 hours to get up there to talk to him). When we finally got to talk to him, I got to tell him that I admired him as a dad (which I do...his stories on his blog about his stepkids are always awesome, and occasionally have made me cry), as well as a writer. I hope he took that the right way.

I have to say, the thing that has always struck me about Wil (may I call him Wil? Mr. Wheaton sounds so...formal. And he's younger than me anyway, dammit--one of those wildly accomplished people who are younger than me that I wish I could hate but yet I can't) is that he's so...nice. I mean, I can't say this for certain, since I only know the guy from his writings (blog and books), but he has always seemed overall like such a mensch to me. Considerate. Honest. Real. Enthusiastic. Optimistic. Loving to his wife and kids. Respectful of his fans. He probably has his jerk/asshole moments, like the rest of us, but I must say that in watching him do his thing for a couple of hours, he was unfailingly polite and kind and supportive of everyone who was there to see him. Add that to the sense you get when reading his work, and he seems to truly be a nice guy. And for an actor? Raised in Hollywood? And a celebrity writer now in his own right? Damn he's practically a god, he's so nice. Unlikely though that is. Is it because he's a geek? I think so, at least partially. Geeks (the ones who haven't been seriously traumatized by their childhoods of taunting and social ostracism) know what it's like to be the social underdog at the bottom of the totem pole. Some of them, when they finally come into some sort of power, use it for evil, and continue to spread the pain, but some (like Wil, I think), use it for good and use it to help people feel good about themselves.

Augh. It's late, I'm babbling, I'll stop. Suffice to say: Wil Wheaton. Good writer, and seemingly a really good guy. Check him out.

Tonight is going to be one of those tightly scheduled nights (as is tomorrow, come to think of it, but more on that tomorrow). Tonight I'm zipping from work to prenatal yoga class, and then straight home for a book group meeting. In preparation, I had a tightly scheduled morning: I picked up the house, did dishes (not all of them, sadly, because the kid wanted me to make him french toast and I couldn't say no, even though it threw off my morning schedule), and even threw in a load of laundry for good measure (since I knew I wouldn't have time to do it later), while at the same time wrangling both myself (shower, dress, pack yoga stuff, make breakfast, clean up) and the kid (get him up, dressed, fed, into coat and shoes, help him pick out and pack random toy/activity to bring to daycare with him--this morning it was easy, coloring books and pens) into getting out of the house.

But that's not all I did in order to make this evening of back-to-back events come off. Yesterday I did a couple last minute emails trying to get coverage for what was being served for dinner at the book group (they're potluck), and swung by Trader Joe's to pick up the appetizers I'm providing. I've lined up a babysitter (thanks Mom!) for the couple of hours coverage I need tonight while I'm at my yoga class and Josh is at his (he's trying out a class--not the prenatal one of course--at my studio tonight for the first time--yay!). All this while theoretically trying to also work a full time day job, not to mention deal with all the other life admin involved in, say, tomorrow's tightly scheduled evening and the weekend ahead.

The thing is, I'm not particularly complaining here--this is the kind of stuff I do all the time (and this day isn't even one of the really crazy ones). I'm just trying to get something down in words, take a snapshot of my current life for future use/entertainment. I hope when I look back on this someday I'll be both impressed by my "mad org skillz, yo" (as Dri might say) and horrified at the amount of running around and logistical headaches that being Full Time Working Mama with Pretentions of Life seemed to involve.

I'm starting to think that maybe I should switch my day job to being some sort of high powered event coordinator or maybe air traffic controller or paramedic scheduler or something. I bet I'd be damn good at it. But then I'd probably implode (or implode even faster). So maybe I'll wait til the kids are off to college and I'm feeling unaccountably nostalgic for these crazy early parenting days. Or maybe at that point I'll take off for a couple of months and go sit on a nice quiet beach somewhere with a duffel full of books, my laptop and my honey. You never know.

I've been wanting to write about this since this morning, but I already know I just can't do it justice. But hell, might as well try. Why not?

Around 9am this morning after dropping off the kid at school, I was on my way to work. I was driving down the frontage road along the valley floor, with wet green hills rising up in front of me and to my right and the freeway just out of sight on my left. There was a lot of nearly-frozen dew still left on the grass and the leaves, but the sun was out and the sky was blue and everything was quite cheery in that "it's finally sunny after two weeks of rain and fog" kind of way. Although the skies had been clear at my house, as I rounded a corner I saw a lingering bit of low cloud/fog bank still hovering along the brow of the hills. And that was pretty enough, set against the green of the hills and the blue of the skies, harmless and puffy looking. But what was really cool about this freak combination of weather elements and time of day, and something you just don't see every day, was the way the early morning sun, rising behind and just above that cloud bank, shot long, white, nearly horizontal rays of light out in a circular, "pay attention, Moses, this is your God speaking" kind of way. Ok, I jest, but truly--it was spectacular. If I'd had a camera on me, I would have pulled over to take a picture. Lovely.

That's it--no further commentary tonight. Just a lovely image, inadequately conveyed. You can go roam about your blogosphere now.

I feel like there's been a shift to the next level of pregnancy, so to speak (maybe it's just a belated shift to that infamous 3rd trimester). Not only has the upcoming labor and birthing part started to become more present in my consciousness, but also there's been a significant constellation of small physical changes that feel like they are adding up to one big shift. My belly has popped out way more (and my bellybutton is well on its way to disappearing), and my balance is all wacked out. I get short of breath much more easily. Walking, standing and even sitting (hell, even lying down) are becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and my sleep is much more restless and difficult. I either sleep really shallowly or I crash hard and have vivid dreams. (Or sometimes both in one night.) And the baby is moving and kicking like crazy--not only is he bigger, of course, but supposedly there is now much less amniotic fluid so his movements are easier to feel. It's quite distracting at times (like right now as I write this...I'm getting booted repeatedly in the back of my cervix. Very weird). Thankfully the edema (swelling) of my hands and feet seems to be less this time around, though--thank goodness for small favors.

I think I'm definitely hitting the beginning of that phase where no matter how scary the birthing process itself seems, the relief of getting this baby out of me and getting my body (mostly) back makes me actually look forward to the day he comes out. Crazy, I know.

Well that's it for complaining. I just mostly wanted to get this down for posterity. I know I'll look back on this and laugh, later. Or maybe shake my head and say "oh man, comparatively speaking you had it pretty good, you just didn't know it." You never know.

Phew. I may not be "nesting" in traditional pregnant woman ways (like cleaning the grout with a toothbrush or organizing the cabinets), but I find I'm finally motivated to do some cleaning up and organizing of my creative house, so to speak. I just spent a little under 2 hours this evening re-vamping my sorely neglected Augured blog (password protected link here, but remember all you have to do is ask if you are so inclined as to actually want to read it), so that it now contains the most recent and updated version of my entire novel so far. I took all the edits and tweaks I've recently done and re-posted all the entries and put them in the new, proper order. I also posted some new stuff that I just finished writing over the last few weeks. And if all that wasn't good enough, I also re-formatted the text of each entry so it looks much better (stupid stuff but it takes forever to make sure it's ok). So it really feels like a complete piece now (or as complete as it can be, given that it's an unfinished novel still).

This is not to say that I am totally fully happy with this draft and that it'll never change again. Far from it. I still have a lot of editrix-y fine-tuning to do, and no doubt I'll have to go back and make even yet more continuity edits once I get further along in the story. But it feels pretty good to have refreshed the whole thing, and I am hoping for at least another couple chapters to be added before I have to let it sit for a few months while I tend to my newborn and try to recover from the physical/hormonal/emotional rollercoaster of the whole new baby experience. Now at least I feel like I'll have something relatively smooth and complete to come back to, though.

Yay me.

It's been a good weekend, capped off by a particularly good Sunday. But it's once again way past my bedtime so only a bare bones report here and then I'm off to snoozeland.

Yesterday I spent all day with Eli (Josh was away in Sacramento visiting a friend), and we had a great day together. We actually spent a lot of time looking at and organizing boxes of Eli's old clothes that have been sitting around in boxes in his old room (having recently been given back to me by Galila, along with some newborn hand-me-down clothes from Aaron). Eli was perfectly content to both "help" with the clothing boxes and later to simply hang out in the room with me, playing with some of his old toys I'd stashed in there. We took a break for lunch and then went out to the movie theater to see "The Incredibles" (great movie) with Grammy and Grampy. Then we came home to meet up with Daddy and Auntie Brandi and Uncle Quinn and drive to Fremont to celebrate Josh's mom's 50th birthday by taking her and his dad out to Chinese food. Although it was a long drive, we got to spend time with Brandi and Quinn, which was fun, and the dinner itself was yummy and pleasantly social (and Eli was very well behaved overall). By the time we got home from Fremont (and I blogged) it was bedtime for me.

Today Josh initially got up with Eli and I laid around in bed in a pleasantly half-asleep state, thinking about my novel, and I actually came up with a couple great ideas on things that had been sort of turning around in my head for the past week. I got up to find Eli watching TV and Josh snoozing on the couch, so I sent him back to bed and hung out with the kid for a few hours until it was time to get ready to leave for some BIC time at the 'Box. I was made a bit late by the unusual circumstance of Eli wanting to take a shower with me (he's only 3, so I figure this is ok for at least a little while longer). He's never taken a shower before (well, ok, maybe we did bring him in the shower a couple times when he was a wee tiny baby, but I doubt he remembers that), although we've encouraged him to try it if he wanted to. I'm not sure what was different about today, but he was in a "try new things" mood so I took advantage of it. He actually did great, I think it was a good experience for him--especially because he's a bit hesitant around getting his face wet--and he felt very "grown up". We've really been trying to encourage him on all kinds of "grown up" behaviors, both in preparation for being a big brother and just in general, because he seems to be at a new behavioral stage (we tell him "well since you're about to be 4, now you'll be able to___" and it seems to work really well for him).

Anyway even though that whole experience made me a bit late to the 'Box, I did get there and had a particularly good experience. It's always great to talk to the gals--sometimes too great, in the sense that I kick myself later for having "wasted" valuable writing time for both myself and them by blabbing too much, but it's just soooo tempting--but I also got a good chunk of writing done. I actually stayed for an hour or so after they both left, trying to finish up the chapter I've been working on, and I did it! I've at least got a draft I'm reasonably happy with, anyway, and I've "plugged the hole" I was trying to plug. I even managed to do a few key re-writes here and there in the backstory and clean up my chapter outline somewhat (though there's more to do there), so I'm feeling pretty accomplished. My next goal (other than writing the next chapter of course) is to take the newly rewritten draft of the entire story and re-post the new versions of every chapter to the novel blog, along with the new stuff I just finished. Hopefully that's something I can do tomorrow night if this motivation stays with me.

So after that, I came home to spend some time with our friends Ian and Lisa (who are both just awesome about spending time with Eli, so I feel like I really did get a good long break today and didn't have any guilt over said break because Eli got a treat too). We had a delicious dinner that Josh made and capped off our Sunday with some outrageously decadent molten chocolate cake that we made from a kit my boss and his wife had given me as a hostess gift when they came to our Black Turkey party. And as if all that wasn't great enough, I also managed to finally post all the digipix to the family photos website. (That's the great thing about old friends, they don't mind if you multitask while you're hanging out with them.) I haven't actually gone back in and tweaked the html for each individual album in order to do better page titles and little introductions, but that can happen later. At least they're up.

And now it truly is way past my bedtime, so I should wrap this up and actually go to sleep. I'm already in bed--I can hear Ian and Lisa and Josh laughing at the movie they're watching in the living room--now I just need to use said bed for its intended purpose. (No, not having wild monkey sex, thankyouverymuch, sleeping. Sheesh. )

On Thursday after work I went to my first prenatal yoga class at the yoga studio where I normally go. (They're finally offering a prenatal yoga class that meets at an hour that working mamas can go to--sheesh! Don't get me started on my "Stereotypes of Marin Moms" rant...) I was expecting that it would be a fairly easy class--some nice stretches and breathing meditations maybe. But whoooooeeee, I have to admit, I was so wrong. It kicked my ass. I was sweating and feeling that panicky flight response feeling of "ohmygod I can't do this", which I haven't felt in a while. Not only was it physically difficult--the bits where we had to do 6 or 8 full squats in a row and the one where we held a squat for 1.5 minutes at a stretch while we had to "breathe through the pain, just like you'd do for a contraction" just killed me--but it was unexpectedly difficult on an emotional level as well. I found myself not only panicky but very close to tears at times. What the blue hell?! (As my friend Trey would say...)

Well. Let me see if I can explain. In thinking about this afterwards, I had a wee epiphany. I realized that this class was the first time during this pregnancy that I'd really started thinking about the actual labor and birth experience that's coming my way, and fully remembering the last time it happened. Up until now I've managed to sort of keep the reality of that past experience (and the anticipation of the future one) in a mostly abstract, "here's the story I've told a zillion times", arms-length place. But in that class, grounded in my body and with the teacher coaching us through painful poses on purpose as a preparation for labor, the bodily memories started to come back, and the memories, let's face it, are not so pleasant. Scary is more like it. So yeah, it freaked me out a little. Ok, more than a little--in hindsight, like a minor panic attack.

I mean, I know I can do it, go through labor and birth. I've already done it. And it sucked, oh yeah it did, but I did it. And already in my relatively short life I have plumbed the depths of my personal strength and endurance and I am confident that I will neither break nor falter when the day (and let us hope it is day and not days this time) comes to birth this next baby. But I am still scared, and still struggling to turn the fear and the doubts into something more useful and empowering. I think this class helped at least get the transformation process started again. Now I just have to keep going. I have two more months. Ohmygod. Deep breath.

Interestingly, while I was lying there in shavasana (or however you spell the name of that pose at the end of every yoga class where you just lie there for 5 minutes and completely relax and let go), I had what I think was a great idea: I want to make a series of paintings to bring with me to the labor room at the hospital, with some inspiring words on them (like "No Fear" and "Always Say Yes" and "You Can" and "This Too Shall Pass" and "Almost There"), combined with the dancing abstract women forms I'm so fond of. I think what I want to be able to look at this time is not the soothing landscapes and flowers I brought last time or the bland, medicalized hospital room (I've got bad associations with hospitals, in general), but rather something snappy and vivid and powerful that *I've* made (heck, something I've birthed, if you will), and that reminds me of my own strength and control over the situation. I'd better get going on making those. Only two more months. Ohmygod. Deep breath.

And I think I'm going to keep taking that prenatal yoga class. Now that I'm over the initial surprise, I think it'll be good for me. Stay tuned.

I had all kinds of ambitious plans for tonight's blog entry (heck, for tonight's activities in general) but again that late night posting thing is getting to me and I'm too tired for full-on creativity.

But I will at least leave you with this long but fascinating article that I stole off someone else's blog, about a woman named Lois Weisberg, and the ways in which social networks work. (It explains the real phenomenon behind the "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" game, among other things.) Here's a tantalizing quote (but really you need to read the whole thing. Really.)

This is what the power of the people who know everyone comes down to in the end. It is not -- as much as we would like to believe otherwise -- something rich and complex, some potent mixture of ambition and energy and smarts and vision and insecurity. It's much simpler than that. It's the same lesson they teach in Sunday school. Lois knows lots of people because she likes lots of people. And all those people Lois knows and likes invariably like her, too, because there is nothing more irresistible to a human being than to be unqualifiedly liked by another.

Yes, it's probably the ex-sociologist in me that finds this all so deeply interesting, but I also like to think that in some lesser way, I am the Lois Weisberg kind of person. Or at least would like to be someday. People collectors 'r us.

I'd love to hear what anyone else thinks of this article. Bueller?

Ok so I didn't get that backfill scene in my novel done in time for this last writer's group meeting, like I'd hoped I would. Nor have I revised my chapter outline. But. The writing is ever so slowly inching forward again. When I'm sitting here imagining finally filling in this gap, I have this image of the Chinese laborers who worked on the transcontinental railroad, getting ever closer to making their separate tracks finally meet in the middle, but still having to do a bunch of grunt work in order to make it happen. And that's not even taking into account the fact that just having the track done isn't enough...there still has to be a train built and moved down those tracks to the other side. Yeah, ok, I'm done flogging that metaphor now.

Good God though, it's hard not to lose faith (and drive, and interest) in this novel-writing process. It's been moving so slowly (over a year now, and still only about 55K words), and as if the slogging hasn't been slow enough, I know there's a major roadblock coming up that's going to slow me down even yet more. Looking back, I have to admit that it seems that pregnancy has slowed me down in all my creative projects (and yes, that's as it should be and ultimately I'm ok with that), and I have been trying not to let the as-yet-only-a-threatening-cloud-on-the-horizon of mothering a newborn scare me into giving up prematurely, but I know that there will be a period of *major* sucking away of attention from just about everything in my life, let alone writing. And I have to be ok with that too, because unless I want to give up completely (and I don't, I'm too stubborn and yes, I admit it, prideful--I said I was going to write a novel and by God, I will), there's nothing I can do but accept and keep the faith that I'll get back to the slogging, so to speak.

But it does feel rather lonely still, slogging through this novel-writing swamp. Thank goodness for my writer's group gals, truly--but yet I still wish I had a Sam along on this journey, or even a nice little glowy magic item from an elf queen to bring light into my darkness when I need it (just to throw in a random couple of Tolkien references). Not to mention that it'd be nice to have the certainty that when I *do* get to the end of the journey, it'll have been Worth It. I guess that's something I'll worry about when I get there. Right now it's still one foot in front of the other. Rest. Repeat.

I was reading back over last night's admittedly somewhat garbly post and I realized there's a bigger topic that might be fun to break out in at least a slightly more detailed way: family mottos. Was my family of origin the only family that came up with more-or-less "official" family mottos? As mentioned yesterday, our primary one was/is "late but great" but we also seemed to quote with relish the secondary one of "too much is just enough" (from my perspective now, this latter one seems a bit embarrassing, although all it really refers to is my Dad's habit of always going over the top on family dinners or other kinds of treats). I'd argue that there were probably other things that could have/should have been enshrined as mottos but weren't (at least not as "officially" as the other two, which actually were even at one point put on a mock family crest art piece that I created back in, I think, grade school): my mother's sage and succinct advice "gauge your audience" leaps to mind, as does the more generic "family first", which seems to be the philosophy that my parents went by, at least in regards to their kids if not their own families of origin.

I'm not sure whether or not Josh and I have created any official family mottos for our own family, at least not yet. Sure, we have family values or family philosophies we agree on and try to foster, but that's kind of a different thing (though they can overlap). I don't know as we've come up with a pithy quotable statement that sums up what our family attitude is all about. Maybe our family is still too young. If I had to pick one right now, I think I'd pick something like "everyone is welcome here" (which could have been one from my parents as well) or "be open; do good". Of course those would probably sound better in Latin (as do all mottos), but sorry, I don't do translations.

Howbout you? Any mottos from your family of origin or the one you're in now? If not, what would you want it to be?

Here it is 11pm, officially Way Past My Bedtime (I know, pathetic, thanks), and yet, am I falling into the delightful embrace of my soft flannel sheets and the far too many pillows needed to prop up my bloated preggo body? No I am not, thankyouverymuch. I'm blogging. Cos I'm still wound up from a great writer's group meeting earlier tonight (the writing! It's starting to flow again! Yay!), and mostly because I feel I should (both out of habit and competitiveness). Why couldn't I take 5 or 10 minutes to write this sort of a nonsensical half-baked blog entry while I was at work (*cough* on my lunch break *cough*)? Or instead of running around doing dishes and other house chores in the mornings? I guess there's something about blogging and evenings that are irrevocably linked for me now, dammit. Or could it just be that familiar, familial procrastination, which I have tried so hard to conquer in my life, pushing through any little crack it can find, like the ivy over our back fence? One of our primary Dvorin family mottos--our family meme, if you will--is "Late But Great" (of course another one is "Too Much is Just Enough", make of that what you will). I guess what that's trying to say (and maybe what I'm trying to convince myself of here) is that it doesn't matter if you're late as long as when you do show up, it's worth it. And to some extent that's true, if not completely an admirable trait to cultivate. Honestly I think no matter what you call it, or how you try to twist it into a virtue, it's still just a glorification of procrastination, which I can't in good conscience actually support any more. Not at this phase in my life, in which things need to be so (relatively) tightly controlled in order to keep me from going crazy(er).

Ok ok I just realized I'm rambling and not developing my thoughts in any clear and interesting way. That's the real curse and lesson of procrastination for me tonight--late does not appear to lead to great for me. Not right now anyway.

Guess I'll stop typing then.

Ok, I'm *this* close to having all my digipix from the last two months processed, backed up and put up on the website. (Yes, that includes the much belated Disneyland photos I promised almost exactly two months ago.) I've processed and backed up and now I'm trying to switch to a newer version of iPhoto so I can use it to put the photos up on the web. Stay tuned.

Yaaaaaawwwwwn.....I was certainly intending to have more to say than this tonight, but I find myself more attracted to the "get more sleep" resolution than the "write daily" one at the moment. So be it.

Today was a nice, well-rounded day, starting off with cuddles on the couch from Eli and proceeding through breakfast out at the bagel store, grocery shopping, BIC writing time at the 'Box (yay!), and general hanging out at home time. A good quantity of digipix were processed as well, in between games of Candy Land and watching "Eli movies", and after the kid went to bed. Josh and I have spent a nice quiet evening in the living room with our laptops, listening to music, doing our own projects in companionable silence. We even had a fire in the fireplace and with the rain we've had all evening, plus the kitties on either side of me, it's been really snuggly.

So even though I've got a mild case of Sunday blues and I'm not really looking forward to going to work tomorrow (I didn't really have relaxing holidays, despite having several days off work in the last couple weeks), I'm feeling pretty good. Sure, there's more that could've been done (when isn't there?), but the resolutions are still rolling forward at a satisfying pace (of course, given that it's only day 2 of the new year, that's to be expected...check with me in a couple of weeks).

Speaking of which, time to get some sleep. That was on the list too.

Phew. The holidaze are over. I made it. A new year. I'm done with the old, ready for both a fresh start and a return to the familiar routine. I have a new resolve to (re)prioritize, to move forward on all the slow or stuck things, to release what I don't need to hang on to any more, to bring out and appreciate all those things that truly Matter.

I've been thinking a lot about making official New Year's resolutions for the last few days, but haven't really come up with a lot of clear decisions/goals (e.g. something like "lose 20 lbs" or "learn how to knit"). But here's the admittedly eclectic and in-no-particular-order-of-importance list of "things I'd like my life in 2005 to include" that I'm thinking about at the moment.

Things I'd Like My Life In 2005 To Include

*Putting together my painting studio and my writer's desk (in the spirit of making "rooms of one's own"), and using both of them on at least a semi-regular basis...art IS life!
*Daily writing practice (even if it's just filler blog entries, but it sure would be nice to get the novel moved ahead by another big chunk)
*Reading more books (esp. those I've borrowed...I want to get those off of my nightstand and back to their owners before another year goes by)--I think I'll allow myself to just spend quiet time in the evenings reading, not always on trying to fit in a project
*Time for myself (especially important with a new baby coming)
*A priority on and daily effort towards (re)connection with my lifemate (again, especially important with a new baby coming)
*Reconnection with old friends (I've been putting off writing or calling and then it gets to be a big deal but it really doesn't have to be)
*Making some new friends (cos really, who can resist new friends? Not I...)
*Finishing up old scrapbooking projects and being able to find the time to move forward with some new ones
*Continuing with my yoga practice and maybe even getting to the point where I can move up a level
*Sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. Or at least *enough* sleep. Maybe not in the first half of the year, but at least in the last half
*Good health, for myself and others (and yes, hopefully this will include losing most if not all of the pregnancy pounds by the end of the year)
*Keeping up with my digipix processing and posting things regularly enough to the website so that it doesn't feel overwhelming

Ok that seems like quite enough. Really it's the same old stuff, it's just good to write it all down again for reference.

Happy New Year, everyone!