Off-Piste

Harvest bounty

2009-11-25T14:17:00.000-08:00

After longer than I think it usually takes to grow cherry tomatoes, this week we harvested a generous handful of red and yellow cherry tomatoes from the Aerogarden. Thanks Aerogarden! They were delicious.

On handwashing: the sequel

2009-11-23T13:48:00.000-08:00

I'd like to report that as soon as I got my H1N1 vaccine, I backed away from the slippery precipice of manic germophobia and can happily report no ill effects, at least so far.

And today, further vindication. The BBC reported results from new scientific studies that prove what I have long asserted as undisputable fact: dirty children are healthier children.*

I do admit to being somewhat more conscious than I used to be: for example, after spending an hour checking out and sitting in at least 25 different sample chairs in Macy's on Saturday, I did hesitate as went to reach for a handful of almonds in my purse. H1N1 vaccine notwithstanding, it just didn't seem smart to thrust my potentially germy hand into the bag of almonds and then put them in my mouth.

So instead, I held the bag up over my face and attempted to gracefully pour just a few almonds into my mouth. Eric quickly distanced himself from this public spectacle. But we were both facing dangerously low blood sugar and so a few minutes later he took the bag, found a private corner and poured some almonds into his mouth as well.

Later, when we got to dinner, we both thoroughly washed our hands before sitting down to eat.

*Extra bonus of reading this article is seeing the word "mollycoddled" used.

Perfect cure for a long week

2009-11-22T17:15:00.000-08:00

Mid-afternoon on Friday Eric and I discovered that it was a great idea for us to go to the Sharks game that night in San Jose.*

So we did. Eric had driven to work because he had to chaperone a new piece of equipment for his lab and it worked out perfectly for me to ride Caltrain down to Palo Alto so we could drive the rest of the way together from there.

It has been long enough since I have been to a hockey game (almost two years?) that going to this one was unbelieveably exciting to me. It was a total thrill just to be there - and we got to see a great game. One highlight was when Dany Heatly scored three goals, which is a hat trick. As soon as the goal light for the third goal lit up a shower of hats began to cascade down onto the ice. This stopped play for a few minutes while men with shovels attempted to clear the hats from the ice. It was glorious.

This is them picking up all the hats. So many hats! What do they do with them? I don't know. Maybe they give them to needy children?

I texted my brother Andrew that we were in the Shark tank and he left me a voicemail the next day saying he had checked out the game and "was glad to see it looked like we'd gotten a couple of good fights." Apparently, this is a site he checks daily to stay up to date on this sort of critical info. I can't believe I didn't know about this incredible resource.

Overall, I think the thing I was most surprised by is how solid the Sharks fans were. I had this idea that they were some kind of suburbanized half-assed overly-family-friendly "soft" hockey fans - nothing like the Chicago hockey fans I was raised with.

How wrong I was! Well, mostly. The crowd represented with a huge showing of teal jerseys, and every Sharks power play elicited a sea of arms waving in chomping motions. Good show San Jose! That said, I didn't hear any no foul language and there were no fights in the stands, so they still have a ways to go to get to Chicago standards.

I can't wait to go again! They play the Blackhawks in January and it is on the calendar.

*By some cruel stroke of fate, the Bay Area's hockey and soccer teams both play in San Jose rather than a place that it easy for people like us to go see them on a regular basis, like San Francisco.

Is it the weekend yet?

2009-11-20T14:59:00.000-08:00

I have had many, many meetings this week. A couple of days I have literally had meetings or phone calls from first thing in the morning until late in the afternoon back to back with no breaks. This forced me to do things like bribe colleagues to bring me food and water in the conference room and leave my phone muted while I hurriedly dashed to the bathroom to pee.*

If I had an assistant who was in charge of my calendar, that person would have been fired for what they did to my schedule this week.

Sadly, I have only myself to blame. I'm not firing myself but I am instituting new rules starting next week.

*Turns out I can do it in under two minutes - and that even includes washing my hands!

We were just riffing

2009-11-19T09:26:00.000-08:00

Last night was one of our highly anticipated symphony nights and the SF Symphony was performing the Brandenburg concertos. They were wonderful (though admittedly not as transcendent as the Mahler pieces we saw last time). I played some of this music on the violin in a previous life which made it especially neat to hear it performed.

One fun aspect of these pieces is that there is a spot for some harpsichord improvisation. Yes, really. Surely this is not an opportunity that many harpsichordists get very often. The fact that Eric hates harpsichord music just made it that much more fun.

Walking to the car after the show, Eric and I debriefed the concert, and in particular the harpsichord solos.

"He totally wailed on that harpsichord," Eric observed.

"Yeah," I agreed, "he tore that harpsichord into three pieces."

"Was he bad?" asked the tall dark-haired woman walking in front of us, turning around to look at us.

"We have no idea," I clarified. "I'm sure he was great," I added because I felt bad that she thought we had been critiquing him when really we were just entertaining ourselves with funny language.

It's in my head

2009-11-18T13:50:00.000-08:00

I heard this Soul Asylum song in Bed, Bath and Beyond on Sunday when Eric and I purchased our robes.* It has been in my head ever since, and I am concerned about the potential detrimental effects on both my well-being and that of my unborn child.

I suppose I was particularly vulnerable to it having at one point owned the CD and known all the words to the song. In case you missed that stage in your development, here are the lyrics.

Runaway Train
Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a slow torch burning**
I was a key that could use a little turning***

So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep

It seems no one can help me now
I'm in too deep
There's no way out
This time I have really led myself astray

CHORUS
Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here no there

Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded
Life's mystery seems so faded****

I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows*****
Here I am just drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train

Everything is cut and dry
Day and night, earth and sky
Somehow I just don't believe it

CHORUS

Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughin' at the rain******
Little out of touch, little insane
Just easier than dealing with the pain

Runaway train never comin' back
Runaway train tearin' up the track
Runaway train burnin' in my veins
Runaway but it always seems the same*******

*They're glorious and mine has made me late for work every day this week. Somehow having it on makes me care less about being a productive member of society. It is entirely consistent with what I expected but it is nonetheless very powerful.
**In my head, I was singing "blow torch burning"; slightly different connotation.
***What does that mean?
****Oh, to be in high school again.
*****What does this mean?
******This I understand.
*******This is actually a major insight.

One way to meet the neighbors

2009-11-17T13:42:00.000-08:00

Last night my attempt to broil up some omega-3 rich Dover sole for dinner caused an inadvertent test of the smoke alarms in our new apartment. Not just the one in the kitchen - all 5 in our apartment.*

So we did what people quickly going both insane and deaf naturally do: run around the house flinging open doors and windows while trying to keep our ears covered and get the alarms to stop shrieking at us.

We looked up from the melee at one point to see that we had company: there was a stranger standing in our kitchen, having come through the back door.

"Everything alright?" he asked casually.

"No fire, just a dirty broiler," I explained.

"Ah, yeah. I just wanted to make sure we weren't burning down."

"I'm Ellie," I said, after a pause.

"Oh, I'm Brian, I live upstairs with my roommate Nate."

Eric came and introduced himself and they made neighborly chit chat about the girls who live on the first floor and how long Brian and Nate have lived here. At this point the fish, snap peas and garlic bread, all of which I had timed perfectly to be ready at the same exact moment, were all ready.

No one likes their Dover sole cold, least of all me, so I plated it up, we bid farewell to Brian and promised to avoid making such a racket again soon.

We didn't mention that we are expecting a boy shrieking machine at the end of March. Mental note: keep the back door locked.

*Yes, 5 smoke alarms. It's big, but it's not that big. Here's to extreme caution.

Paper or obese feminized boy children?

2009-11-16T17:40:00.001-08:00

Troubling information abounds on the impact that plastics in our environment are having on the human body. Fair warning - this is a bad news blog.

An extremely troubling article in Newsweek recently showed how plastic chemicals may be related to obesity.

Then just today, an article on the BBC website relayed some additional surprising information. First, there's a Journal of Andrology.* Second, boys who play with Barbies are more likely to play with Barbies due to the feminizing impact of phthalates (found in many, many, many things we are all exposed to every single day, in particular vinyl flooring and plastic shower curtains).

The really really bad news is that these plasticizers are totally ubiquitous. Not only are they in plastic (obviously) but the chemicals in this family are often used as fabric treatments on furniture and clothing and as protective film on glass and metal containers. Europe, being extremely European, banned phthalates in toys but not in other everyday items so they are still fairly ubiquitous there as well unless maybe you live and work in a toy store.

I'm trying not to be totally defeated by this information but it falls into my least favorite category of threats which is at the uncomfortable intersection of "real and relevant to me" and "very little I can meaningfully do about it."

Now I am going to sing a quiet happy song la la la la la la la.

*Really? Is there a Journal of Left-handedness?

Bridge: burned

2009-11-13T10:56:00.001-08:00

I broke up with my therapist yesterday. It was one of the more difficult conversations I have had to have with someone in a while, not counting my attempts to update our address through the automated voice response systems at Comcast, Chase Bank and PG&E.

I had tried to break up with her last week and it didn't stick, so I found myself back there again this week to make it abundantly clear that this would be my last session.

She wanted to really understand my decision and what was driving it. This led to an exchange that was sort of like watching a hockey team warm up the goalie: shot after shot after shot, and me in the crease doing my best to deflect.

I made it clear that I didn't think I was "done" with therapy - I just didn't want to do anymore of it with her right now. Nonetheless, she saw ample reason to question the wisdom of my decision. And her inside knowledge of, you know, all my vulnerable spots, insecurities and weaknesses made her assault especially potent.

"In my experience pregnancy can bring up a lot of issues around your own relationship with your mother..."

"Do you really think it wise to discontinue our work together during this incredibly tumultuous and challenging time in your life?"

"Aren't you interested in exploring {insert major life issue} further?"

And my favorite: "You know, as I see it you're really just getting started."

At the end of the 50 minutes I left and will not go back. On my way out the door, her parting words were "My door's always open! Call any time!"

Unlikely.

Halfway to somewhere

2009-11-12T21:45:00.000-08:00

As of Monday this week, Belvedere is officially half-baked. 20 weeks ago he began, and 20 weeks from now, give or take, he will be, well, fully cooked.*

As far as we know, he is developing well. The ultrasound pictures revealed all the right things in the right places and we are choosing to forget the creepy 3D ultrasound pictures that make him look like a very small old man.

I haven't gotten too much advice on my pregnancy so far but I have gotten a few tips from our friend Nelson, often on the potentially serious consequences of poor diet during pregnancy:

"If you eat too much high fructose corn syrup then will it turn out to be a Republican?"

"The only risk of drinking a glass of wine while you're pregnant is that the baby will turn out to be kind of French."

*It's a boy! I may not have mentioned that yet. Yay! Name suggestions are welcome.

The space heaters in the closet should have been a clue

2009-11-10T22:16:00.000-08:00

We're getting settling into our new place and into a new cold hard reality: it's cold.*

I guess we shouldn't be surprised: it is much bigger, has higher ceilings, and was built in 1906.

It is, nonetheless, a brutal new world

We are adapting but it isn't pretty. I've taken to wearing several bulky layers and, when available, a hood. Eric wears a hat indoors all the time now. I think it might actually be colder in the apartment than it is outside.

But I fear the worst is yet to come. We may have to become "robe and slipper" people.

You know - slovenly, smelling of stale coffee and bad breath, and always scratching something.**

At least it isn't haunted. That we know of. Yet.

*When I told my brother "We love our new apartment, there's just one thing we're having a hard time with" his response was "It's haunted?"
**No offense to any robe and slipper people out there.

Further warning signs of adulthood

2009-11-09T22:04:00.000-08:00

In what might be a sign of adulthood, or what might just be a sign of being really disorganized my whole life, I fulfilled a long-time dream this past weekend: I got a proper jewelry box.

Previous jewelry organization methods generally involved plastic baggies, small pouches, and a bunch of small colored boxes. Actually looking through my jewelry to see what might be a good choice that day was so challenging and time-consuming that I basically just started wearing the same two pairs of earrings, rotating from one to the other in the interest of variety.

In going through my "jewelry collection" to organize it into my new box, I unearthed all manner of items I had no idea I actually possessed including not one but two stopped Swatch watches, one of which was missing the face altogether, some plastic jewelry that was literally disintegrating and was sticky to the touch in a way that was impossible to get off of my fingers with soap, and one of what used to be a pair of earrings shaped like a tiny naked woman in "dancer's pose." Wonder why I stopped wearing those.

Having set up the new jewelry box feels like a major life upgrade. I am now ready to dazzle the world with my new, well, actually old, jewelry.

The Connecticut Show

2009-11-08T19:57:00.000-08:00

This has been the first week that the Connecticut Show is on the air (or, more accurately, the first week that we are getting to watch it). For a start, it is much more family friendly than the Clementina Show.

The Connecticut Show mostly features the #22 bus. This is apparently one of the more regular buses and it runs every 7-8 minutes from 5am until 1am, and only slightly less frequently during those off hours.

It is an electric bus which gets power through cables above the street, to which it connects with these big pincer-looking things.

From our bedroom, buses slowing down to a stop sound a lot like when Obi Wan Kenobi* disables the Death Star's tractor beam. Buses pulling away sound like that but in reverse.

A few nights in, Eric had a dream in which he was looking at a wall with two numbers like big counters on it. The number on the left was 308, and this was the number of buses that had already gone by. On the right, the number was 3041 and this was the number of buses still remaining to go by that night. I sort of feel like that says it all.

Other than that, and the whistle from the Caltrain, all is quiet and we are not yet finding that boring.

*Yes, I had to look up how to spell that.

Farewell Clementina Show

2009-11-06T09:40:00.000-08:00

As of November 1, The Clementina Show is no longer being broadcast on a channel that we receive. It isn't off the air, we just don't get to watch it anymore.

I wish there were a word that expressed the feeling of no longer experiencing something horrible that you don't really miss, exactly, but still feel an unexpected affection for. This is the word I would use to describe how I feel about moving off of Clementina St.

True to form, The Clementina Show season finale was impressive. The night before we moved out, on our way to dinner we walked past a woman wearing a tiara who was squatting and peeing through her pants onto the sidewalk.

For our farewell dinner we went to check out a new fancy sausage place called "Show Dogs" that had just opened up two blocks from our Clementina joint. While we were paying for our fancy dogs, urine-reeking tiara lady showed up to "trick or treat," but instead of grabbing a Starburst from the proffered bucket she reached over the bucket, into the tip jar and grabbed a wad of bills. When the woman behind the counter protested, the woman paused, smiled dementedly, put a single dollar back in and then ran out of the restaurant.*

The next morning, as we left to get the truck for our move, we noticed some fresh human poo and other goodies on our sidewalk. There were also some people doing some form of hard drugs in a car parked across the street.

We had no second thoughts about our move.

*When we left, Eric dropped a few bucks in the tip jar, saying "Don't let the trick-or-treaters get it!"

This year we even roasted the seeds!

2009-10-30T19:50:00.000-07:00

Like last year, this past week Eric pressured me into using Spookmaster "trace & carve" designs to carve pumpkins this year. I went along with it and have to admit, once again the results are pretty impressive.

Here's our pumpkins! Eric did the skull, I did the witch*. Happy Halloween!

*Buaaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

I demand my share of the life-saving potion!

2009-10-29T22:44:00.000-07:00

The H1N1 vaccine arrived in the Bay Area today and Eric, myself, and thousands of other pregnant women, their partners, parents of small children, others who fall into the high priority category, and people so desperate to get theirs they were pretending to fall into the high priority category lined up to get jabbed.

When we arrived, the line was out the door, through the parking lot, down the bock, around the corner and then down* the next block. Here we are at the end of the line. We got there at 6pm, an hour before the clinic was scheduled to close, and there were easily 200 people in line ahead of us. It seemed sensible to walk to the front and see what chance we had of actually getting the vaccination before deciding to stand in line for an hour, maybe more.

The nurse who was managing the line was actually just about to count back in the line and hand out cards to the people that she estimated would be able to receive the vaccine that day. They had plenty of vaccine, the challenge was not having enough people to administer it quickly enough to meet the demand. (Self-administration was not an option.)

I walked with her back up the line as she counted and as she would point to someone and say a number, at least one out of every three people would blurt out "I'm pregnant!" with a desperate, scared look in their eyes, or "I've been here since 3:30 with my kids you can't turn us away!" or "Gimme gimme gimme!" - this just at hearing a number and having no idea what it even means.

Her count got to the end of the line with numbers to spare, suggesting that all of us were "in" for that day. Common sense suggested otherwise: it was about 6:25pm at this point, and the line had barely moved since we had arrived. We figured it was worth the wait.**

At about 6:45pm, with the line still essentially unmoved, another nurse came down the line asking that just the pregnant women come forward -that we were the only ones who would still receive the vaccine that day. I eagerly skipped to the front of the line, trying not to look the people who had been there for three hours or more or their children in the eyes. I feared them.

When the head of the clinic came out and officially told people they had to come back the next day, I feared that this was going to turn into a very gory pre-Halloween special event. After assuring everyone that they would get priority the next day and that there was plenty of vaccine to go around, the doctor apologized sincerely and then headed quickly inside and called the police.

The line did not disperse. People continued to stand there.

Meanwhile, inside the clinic in line for my shot, I sweet-talked the nurse into letting Eric come wait with me inside, and then, since he was there, why not just give him the vaccine too? They did.

We left feeling like we had stolen something.

It was 7:15pm when we left and the line was still there. The police were encouraging people to go home, the clinic was closed. I don't know what happened next.

*This block was a hill, so it was actually up the block, not down it

**"We've waited more than two hours to ride roller coasters. I suppose another half hour can't hurt," Eric reasoned.

Then we got married

2009-10-27T21:49:00.000-07:00

This is the balloon in which we were married. (Pretty in its own right, and infinitely better than the balloon that launched along with us which looked like the Puerto Rican flag.)
This is the view from several hundred feet up, just after dawn.

This is us listening to Scott the Balloon Captain (and self-proclaimed "balloonatic") as he read us the ceremony.

When we landed, we were married. Eric helped me out of the basket while the balloon crew packed the balloon back up.

It was a wonderful, dreamy, perfect day.

Me-to-be

2009-10-21T10:23:00.000-07:00

As I pick the last of the nail polish off my fingernails today, I am relishing memories of my bachelorette party from a week and a half ago.

There's something that feels kind of fun and subversive about being pregnant at your own bachelorette party. Nobody suspects that the bride-to-be is also a mother-to-be.

At the spa where we got massages, the therapist who knew she was doing a pre-natal massage literally went through everyone else in our group before looking questioningly at me - with my hideous mock-veil headband and plastic "I'm the Bride" pink sash - to confirm that it was me.

At the nail salon, the owner stopped by to say hello and after I gave a somewhat saucy reply to one of his questions his playful response was something along the lines of "And you haven't had several glasses of champagne today!" I just smiled. The sparkling cider can really go to my head.

I had a fabulous time and owe a huge thanks to Jamaica and Nonoko for their exceptional planning and incredible generosity. You guys rock!

On handwashing

2009-10-20T13:39:00.000-07:00

Recently, in spite of my better judgment, I have started washing my hands regularly.

You're probably wondering if there's a typo in that sentence. There isn't. I actually make a point of not washing my hands too often. I have a theory, which I expect will soon be supported by scientific studies if it isn't yet, that frequent exposure to very small amounts of pathogens actually keeps me healthier rather than putting my health at risk. Judging by the woman next to me on my flight home from Vegas the other day who applied Purell to her hands literally every 3-4 minutes without leaving her seat or actually touching anything, I may be the world's only germophile, standing against legions of germophobes*.

But, there are other considerations now that I am pregnant. Getting sick has more significant consequences now than it would if it were just me moping around the house blowing my nose and whining. Even more seriously, H1N1, everyone's favorite swine flu, a) has a frighteningly high fatality rate for pregnant woman and b) is all over the Bay Area (oh no that's where I live!).

So, grudgingly, I am now very conscientiously washing my hands A LOT. And I am more aware of germs than ever. For example, last week I volunteered at Stewart Brand's Long Now talk where they fed we volunteers pizza before making us work. I had washed my hands and was happily munching my pizza when a late-arriving volunteer came over to introduce himself and offered to shake my hand while I was eating with my hands. Normal Ellie would have set down the pizza, given him a good nice-to-meet-you shake and thoughtlessly gone back to licking pizza sauce off my fingers.

Germ-aware Ellie looked him in the face and said "I can't touch your hand right now, I'm eating. You know, germs."

What have I become?

I guess a lot of things change when you have someone else's well-being to worry about, and already I am making different decisions about how much to sleep, what (and how much) to eat and how to deal with work and stress. I guess the good news is that kids are actually extremely germy, so my germ-limited life is probably going to be short-lived whether I like it or not.

Bring on the (non-fatal, non-permanently damaging) germs!

*I think my typo "germophone" in the first draft of the post is funny.

On Angels' Landing

2009-10-19T08:21:00.000-07:00

Since last Wednesday, I've been in Zion National Park (without internet access, hence my absence. This is the second week in a row that I've been out of town for several days but I won't be disappearing again for a while, I promise).

This was the Moss family annual National Park trip and I joined my aunts Barbara and Jane and their brothers, my uncles, Bill and Fred, at Zion for a long and very enjoyable weekend in southern Utah.

The focus of the trips has always included wonderful and challenging hikes, and in the past has included the Grand Canyon (to the river and back all in one shot, against the stern warnings of signs everywhere), Half Dome at Yosemite, Brown Mountain at Glacier National Park, and many others. This year, the Angels' Landing hike was the marquis hike and a notable highlight.

It is worth noting that I am the only person in this group of five who does not have a crippling fear of heights. This is important with regards to the Angels' Landing trail because it is noted for its steep drop-offs and for a half-mile section of trail which follows a 'knife's-edge ridge' to the final destination. To aid hikers in not falling off, the National Park Service has thoughtfully installed a set of chains that you can hang on to as you scramble your way to the end.

It is a spectacular hike.

Here is where the 'knife's-edge ridge' section begins. Note the evocative warning sign:

This picture, showing the first section with chains, is taken from a spot affectionately known as "Chickenshit Ledge," which is also where I reluctantly left Fred and Jane (in the company of many others who were not up to the thrilling endeavor with the chains). We three did a worthy job together scaling over 21 switchbacks and nearly 1500 feet, and it seemed cruel that vertigo as opposed to lack of fitness or ability would prevent them from getting to see the full panoramic views at the end. They were bummed for sure but were also happy to sit there, eat peanut m&m's and tell passersby that they had sent the pregnant woman on without them.

This is a view of the ridge that leads to the end of the trail: look closely and you can see people walking all the way out to the end of the line (the left side of this big standalone ridge rock).

Wow!

Needless to say, I made it all the way and very much enjoyed doing it. For better or worse, I am totally unphased by heights and have no trouble at all walking with no handrail across a 36 inch wide span of rock with 1200 foot drops on either side. I'm not sure this is necessarily a trait that promotes survival, but for Angels' Landing it did the trick.

What remains to be seen is if I am as strong and fearless next year carrying a six-month old baby.

Up up and away!

2009-10-13T19:21:00.000-07:00

On October 25, which is not far from now, Eric and I are getting married in a hot air balloon. It might look something like this:

This will be the official wedding ceremony and the captain of the balloon will officiate for us somewhere over Sonoma County. We are honoring all superstitions we can think of in the hope of getting great weather that day, as it is quite a weather dependent sort of event.

(It is worth noting that the weather in San Francisco today was a lot like the scene at the end of Karate Kid II. I was convinced that the tree in front of our place was going down more than once, but most of it is still there.)

In case you were wondering, there are maternity wedding dresses to be had out there, ranging in price from $39.99 to much much more. I bought a 'regular' wedding dress and am probably the first bride in history to ask the saleswoman, "Do you think I can gain five pounds and still fit into this dress?" Currently, I am on track to look neither normal nor pregnant, merely Ellie Extra Chunky for this wedding. Eh, I'll take it!

The balloon only holds eight people plus the captain, so this is going to be a pretty intimate event with just our parents and my brother joining the festivities on board. Anyone who knows me knows that I am not capable of celebrating any milestone, be it birthday, President's Day or any given Friday, on just one day, or even within one week. This is certainly no different. We are going to hold a big bash wedding party next August to celebrate with all of the friends and family (and our new baby) who won't be with us in the balloon.*

*OK, I guess technically the baby will be with us in the balloon.

Off-off-piste

2009-10-12T09:56:00.000-07:00

In June 2008 I started this blog, which I called Off-Piste as a nod to taking a different road, or rather, paving an totally unknown road, into the next chapter of my life. I ended my very first blog post with:

So there I was: jobless, newly certified as an Ashtanga yoga teacher, shacking up with a guy I've been dating for about 5 minutes in a sublet we can't afford next to AT&T Park in San Francisco, and I've just decided to move from Washington DC where I've lived for three years to see what sort of life I can make for myself in San Francisco....

What happened next has been well chronicled in the posts that followed: we found a place to live in which we urban camped for a while, I started a company with a guy in DC, which failed shortly thereafter, leaving me unemployed again. In spite of being unemployed, Eric and I lived a full and celebratory life: we took a number of wonderful trips including Joshua Tree National Park and a week in Maui, we went skiing in Tahoe several times, we climbed Mt Shasta, and we explored the city and surrounding areas by bicycle, on foot, in kayaks and even on a motorcycle. We spent more than our fair share of time in wine country. I did eventually get a job, my 'dream job' in fact, and I rejoined the working world this past March, which has brought adventures of its own.

One evening in July, as Eric and I were enjoying "retirement" (we try to take at least a few minutes of our retirement every day just in case we don't get to retire later in life for any number of reasons), I commented to Eric that life at that moment in time was as easy as it will ever get. It was so simple! So blissful, so peaceful, so easy.

God or some other deity or universal life force with a mischievous sense of humor must have overheard me because the very next day I found out I was pregnant.

It was without a doubt the most exciting and wonderful news I have ever received and it was also perhaps the biggest single shock of my life.

Apparently, this is what living Off-Piste is all about: we're doing this a little differently. And the remarkable thing is that, while this wasn't "the plan" (possibly because there was no "plan") it is actually probably the best way to start the next chapter of our lives together that we could have come up with.

Telling friends and family has been a lot of fun, and many have been as caught off guard by this news as we were. When Eric told friend Anne from grad school that he's going to be a Papa her response was:
"You're getting a dog?!"

When I shared the news at work, it disqualified me for a long-term project they had been moments away from staffing me on. The colleague who would have managed me on that project told me:
"I have had a lot of people do a lot of things to avoid working with me but you are the first one who has gotten pregnant to stay off my team."*

And so, we continue Off-Piste. If I were starting this blog today, it might read something like this:

So there I was, not much more than six months into my dream job and already nearly four months pregnant, two weeks away from getting married in a hot air balloon, and seriously questioning the wisdom of becoming parents in our teeny fourth floor walk-up apartment in a neighborhood where the sidewalks often feature human poo, among other things...

This is going to be interesting!

*My response: "If having unprotected sex is what I need to do to stay away from you, I'm willing to do it." I think this made him uncomfortable.

Weasels playing yahtzee is also a favorite

2009-10-08T23:57:00.001-07:00

I'm in Stinson Beach for a work offsite Wednesday through Friday of this week. We are staying in beach houses that all have their own flavor. I was pleased to discover not only glass dolphin figurines in the bathroom but this, the little know Japanese version of Dogs Playing Poker.

List of things I should know but don't

2009-10-06T07:54:00.000-07:00

Having biked around San Francisco for a total of over four years now, I tend to think of myself as someone who knows the flattest routes for getting around the city, avoiding the worst of the hills.

I was recently proven dramatically wrong when a friend of ours, having heard about the route we took to bike from SOMA to Golden Gate Park on Sunday, said, incredulously:

"You don't know about The Wiggle?"

No, we don't.

But now we do. The Wiggle is the flattest path through the city, in particular going from SOMA to Golden Gate Park. This discovery is akin to finding out, after a year and a half of walking up and down four flights of stairs every day, that our apartment building has an elevator*.

Eric said it best in his response to the friend's follow up email with additional info about The Wiggle:

"I can't believe we've been getting all that unnecessary exercise! I'm definitely going to wiggle from now on."

*I remain reasonably sure that it does not.

Still doesn't make it OK to list a one bedroom with a "nook" as a two bedroom

2009-10-05T10:44:00.000-07:00

We are looking for a new place to live and I checked out a place on Saturday that was listed on craigslist through a local broker named Gavin Coombs. His listings are all over craigslist and though I have never met him in person, I have heard he is quite the local character. Apparently he is particularly well known for his prominent chin.

In confirming the appointment to view the place (one of his helpers would open the door for us but would not know anything more than the apartment number), his email included the following third person reference which I felt was worth sharing.

"Circle back with broker G if you have any follow-up questions or if you'd like to rent after viewing."

I'm almost tempted to start referring to myself as Consultant E but it doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

Yogi E?
Not quite.

Blogger E?
Hmmm.