The Day After

I Might Kick Myself for This One Later

2012-03-15T14:48:00.000-07:00

I'm a little over 5 months into this motherhood adventure, and I've been reluctant to put this out there, but I'm feeling inspired by this lady and this book. So far, so good. It's been easy. And I will stop feeling guilty for having it good.

I've been trying to make mom friends, and that part has been proving more difficult than I would have hoped. While most of our existing friends are older than we are, most don't have children. Those that do are seen rarely. We didn't want to be the Amazing Disappearing Breeders, and have succeeded in that so far. We have a happy, mellow boy who is happy to hang with us at the pub, and we've also learned enough about our son to know when we're pushing our luck and it's time to go. But having a baby doesn't stop us from wanting to be out and with our people.

I said before wee man's arrival that I wanted to make mom friends with women I would have been friends with regardless. Trouble is, I haven't found those women yet. I'm still looking, not planning to give up, but it's a lot like dating. I didn't do much dating, and I don't like games. I'm also finding because we don't subscribe to a particular parenting "theory" or "style" that I'm a bit of an oddball. We decided to just roll with it and make decisions based on what works for us and Ramzi as the situation dictates without too many books or "experts" weighing in. It's working for us, but gets me the hairy eyeball at mommy and me.

So, none of this is to gloat, but I feel I have a right to say how things have been for me as a mom to this point and not feel bad about it just because it hasn't been a struggle:

Breastfeeding has been easy. I have an 18 pound 5 month old. No supply issues, no latch problems. He's a spitter, but that's a laundry issue. The first few weeks, I obsessively tracked feeds and diapers. I have since given that up, because he's shown me it's not necessary in any way. He's a happy, healthy, growing boy.
Sleep: he isn't sleeping through the night on a regular basis, but I have gotten a few 8 hour blocks out of him. He wakes up once, maybe twice a night, feeds, and konks back out quickly. It's been that way since he was about three weeks old. It could be much, much worse. He's been transitioned into his crib, into his own space, and that was a bigger deal for me than for him.
I have a husband who reminds me that I need some space of my own, and takes care of the baby while I go for a run, or go to a coffeeshop to read a book without a baby on my boob. It's amazing how much 30 minutes to myself can change my whole perspective. I love being at home with Ramzi right now, but I am more than just mom. Sometimes I need help remembering that, but I'm always glad for the reminder.
I also remember that I have a husband. He is amazing as a husband and a father. We are working on ensuring that we, as a couple, are a priority. I believe it important to show children that their parents love each other and think one another important. Finding time for "adult activities" is tough, for myriad reasons (but that's another post).
I can still cook, this has been important to me. I don't mind doing chores while Ramzi is awake. I fret, briefly, that I should be playing/reading/singing to him instead, but then I look at him with his feet in his hands, rolling around on the floor, and am reminded that he needs space just as much as I do.
I don't understand the "I never get a shower" thing. He naps, I shower. End of story. It's not hard.

5 months in. Some days are hard, but overall parenthood has felt as natural as breathing. When this is what greets us in the morning, we must be doing something right.

Meeting the Unit: At the Hospital

2012-01-23T11:31:00.000-08:00

Once we arrived at the hospital, the requisite check in procedures happened. Sexy gown, pee in a cup, internal exam, monitors on. Our medical insurance is through an HMO, and the system they run means that you don't necessarily get your doctor when delivering, you get the doctors on duty. My doctor happened to be in the hospital in another department at the time of my arrival. She saw my name pop in the system and came up to check on me. I was very thankful for that because the three doctors on shift in labor and delivery were attending three simultaneous deliveries at that moment. We would have been waiting a while to get admitted.

I was unable to complete the pee in the cup step. Remember this, it is important later.

100% effaced and 5 cm (!) dilated, I was shown to a room. The nurses were wonderful, and rather impressed that I was as far along as I was and not asking for pain control. The charge nurse claimed that most first time mothers she sees don't get past 4 without wanting something.

We got comfortable, intermittent monitoring began, so I could get up and move around as I wanted. In the bed, in the chair, in the shower, on the toilet, in the shower. Round and round I went. An hour passed, and I had progressed to 6. 2 hours later, no movement. 3 hours after that, no movement. Doctors start talking augmentation, either membrane rupture or pitocin drip. The thought of pitocin made me very nervous, so we started with the membrane rupture. Another couple of hours pass, and nothing is happening.

I also still had been unable to empty my bladder this entire time. I requested help with this problem. I expressed the thought that maybe that was the hold up, they didn't believe me, until 800 mL was drained from me.

I called the doctor about 1.5 hours after, telling him that I was feeling a lot of pressure and wanted to push. He checked me and reported that I was 9 cm dilated, not quite there. He'd be back in a couple of hours to check me again. A couple of hours?!?! No, that wasn't happening. I was ready.

30 minutes later, it was time to push.

I had heard that when it's time to push, you'll know. You'll feel pressure. I had no idea how absolutely overwhelming that feeling would be. I was so caught up in the feeling that this baby was ready to get out that I couldn't hit the call button myself. It took a lot to gather my wits enough to tell Seena to get someone, NOW! The nurse came in, set up (I did ask for the mirror, I wanted to see), and started me pushing. She noted the first push at 4:25 and informed me that I would be given 2 hours of pushing before other options would be explored. 2 hours? Hahahaha, there was no way I was going to do this for 2 hours. 3 contractions, which amounted to 9 pushes later, people were in the hallway yelling for the doctors to get in the room, get your gloves on, don't bother with the gown, THERE'S NO TIME. I really think the mirror helped me, I could see what was happening, and once his head started to appear, I didn't want to let it out of my sight. When they were calling for the doctors, he was beginning to crown, and I was told to stop pushing. Don't push, just blow. I blew for all I was worth, ignoring the fact that my body was screaming to finish the job. In fact, my body continued on its own, and the nurses reprimanded me for continuing to push, until they remembered that I didn't have an epidural and couldn't control it.

I will say that the pushing phase was a huge relief in the discomfort department. I was finally able to DO something, and it felt good.

Doctors arrived, next contraction came, a few little pushes later he was here. 25 minutes after the first push. My 8.5 pound, 20.5 inch long boy arrived like a superhero, leading with an arm next to his 14.5 inch head. I had to try and get a look at his nether regions for myself, because no one actually announced whether the baby was a boy or girl, at least not that I heard.

A son, we had a son.

Meeting the Unit: Home to the Hospital

2011-10-27T10:59:00.000-07:00

Day before my due date. I've gained 45 pounds and the doctor is estimating a 7 to 7.5 lb baby.

I had a doctor appointment on my due date, 10/7. I was checked and it was noted that I 50% effaced and 1 cm dilated. Nothing, really. Doctor thought it would happen soon-ish, but probably not over the weekend. Membranes were stripped and Seena and I went to a movie. We went to an average of one movie a week for the last couple of months.

My dad had been out of the country for three weeks leading up to my due date. My parents live in another state and had been waiting anxiously for the call that it was time. Their plan was to jump on the first plane available and hope to be here in time. Due to the overseas trip, my dad requested being routed through LA on his way home, just in case. He arrived back on my due date and spent the night at our place. I told him that it didn't seem like anything was going to happen this weekend, so he should go home and rest. He left Saturday morning.

Saturday morning, I woke up having some contractions, but nothing regular or painful. That had been happening for a few weeks, I thought nothing of it. As the morning went on, a pattern started to develop. This surprised me, but they were still far enough apart that I could sleep some and do stuff without too much trouble. Moving along, but at a stroll, not a run. The day was spent at home, watching movies, moving from couch to bed to rocking chair to yoga ball to bathtub and around again. Pain began to make itself known, in my back. Seena spent a lot of time with his fists buried in my hips and lower back every time a contraction happened, it was the only thing that helped. 10 minutes apart at 10 in the morning to 4 minutes apart at 1:30 in the morning on Sunday. I let my parents know labor was underway and contractions about 6 minutes apart at 5 PM Saturday evening. Our childbirth educator had drilled into us that the time to head for the hospital is when contractions hit 4 minutes apart, last 1 minute, and have done so for at least an hour. We hit that benchmark at 2:30 Sunday morning.

Around that same time, I thought my water broke. I was incorrect, it was bloody show. I, however, had not been warned that bloody show wasn't just a little bit, this was a lot. I very calmly walked out of the bathroom and informed Seena it was time to go. Bags were gathered, dog was crated, and the drive to the hospital completed in about 10 minutes. One really big upside to going to the hospital in the middle of the night, no traffic.

Bumpdate: 26 Weeks

2011-07-04T10:02:00.000-07:00

As you can tell, I've not been the best about documenting this pregnancy thing. I have been enjoying it, but I forget to stop and take photos or write things down. Now that I'm out of school and making the transition to temporary housewife, I'm going to try harder. I have a feeling I might regret it later if I don't.

My mom was here to visit last week. It was really a great thing to be able to share some of this in person with her. She bought the first of the baby clothes and I am trying my hardest not to allow that one gender-neutral striped onsie (thank you, American Apparel) turn into a flood of stuff. It's getting harder to walk past the baby aisles and leave empty handed. First, we must make a space for baby, then I can fill it up.

A couple of photos that have been taken since the last that were posted:

21 weeks, I felt huge, looking at it again, I am not.

26 weeks (last night). Basil is having an increasingly difficult time getting comfortable in my lap.

At the risk of TMI, I'd just like to say: BOOBS! I now have them, and that's pretty cool.

Bumpdate: 17 weeks

2011-05-02T17:41:00.000-07:00

I've popped, at least everyone else has noticed that I have. I feel bigger than I look in the photos below, but that may have something to do with my constant top-down vantage point and never really gaining any great deal of weight all at once before. The physical changes are all very new and I'm still trying to adjust.

Not feeling any movement yet. I've been feeling pretty good overall, just tired (though not as tired as a month or so ago). No strange cravings, either, just a constant hunger. I want to eat all the time, and the cheesier the something is, the better.

*Things other than the belly will be written about again soon. In the meantime, humor me. This is kind of a big deal in our house.

The Unit

2011-04-02T15:38:00.000-07:00

I've gone back to school and am almost half way through my first semester of the nursing program. It is, at turns, harder and easier than expected. So far so good. Though, we've discovered that I'll be taking a bit of a break over the fall. Might be tough to deliver a child and go back to school two weeks later. You're only allowed to miss two weeks per semester, I am not that brave.

I'm sure many who read this already know, but I want to document some of this process, and if not here, probably not at all.

I'm 13 weeks in, past the daunting (for me) 10 week mark where I lost another child many years back. I seem to be past the nausea and über-tiredness, though I still take naps when I can. Mostly because I can. The bad stuff really only caused a problem for about two weeks. I feel very lucky.

All tests to date point to normal, healthy child. Never thought I would like the sound of the word "normal" so much.

We're excited, happy, and scared. Scared in a healthy way. I've learned to let go of trying to determine how, exactly, our life is going to change. I don't think there's any way to know, other than to know that it will and we will adapt. We're good at that.

To blanket answer the usual questions: I'm due in early October. No, we don't know the sex and don't plan to find out. Until it's born, obviously. We haven't discussed any names yet. Our awesome loft has a ginormous closet, the Unit's nursery will be there. I feel good, and haven't really had any cravings. Just a hunger that arrives every three hours and renders me completely useless if I don't give it what it wants. And yes, the baby has nicknames. The Unit, the Spawn, or the Spawn of SeeBra. We get a little tired of calling it "it."

Warning, what follows is a bit rant-y and TMI. Stop reading now if you don't want to know.

So, yes, happy and excited. I have gladly made the requisite dietary changes. I don't really miss any of the things I can no longer have (except runny eggs. I would give something semi-important for a runny egg yolk), but I do miss not having to think about it. I wasn't a big drinker of either alcohol or caffeine beforehand, but I never really thought about it much. Nor did we have a lot of sushi, but it was most certainly enjoyed whenever it was had. There have been more than a few days recently where I've mourned my inability to have some spicy tuna. I realize this is all short-lived and will be but a blip on the screen in the grand scheme of things, but oh how I would adore some eggs benedict.

I've gained about 3.5 pounds so far, not much. Enough, though, to make it difficult to button my pants. Belly bands are my buddies right now. I also didn't realize how form fitting my clothing aesthetic tends to be until a couple of weeks ago. I don't know what you'd call a precursor to a bump, but that's sort of where I am. Not flat bellied, but not really defined bump either.

And why, for the love of all that is good, does no one warn you about how much your boobs will itch (there's the TMI bit)? THAT I did not expect, and have since spent more money than I should have on some oil that seems to be doing the trick. But, MY GOD, the day that started. Not. Fun.

Rewind: Munich, Part Zwei

2011-01-27T13:48:00.000-08:00

The entrance to Oktoberfest.

We found ourselves there, through no planning of our own, for the 200th anniversary. I'm not quite sure what I expected to find, beyond lots of drunken dudes (mostly Australian, we'd been warned), but that is not what was found.

I didn't know much of the history, so we looked it up later. All I could think when we did look it up was that's a heck of a way to commemorate your wedding. I'll point you to Wikipedia, rather than regurgitate the same info.

So, yeah, not knowing what to expect, imagine my surprise at finding one of the largest carnivals I've ever seen. Complete with kiddie rides, full of kiddies.

And the beer tents, my word, the beer tents. We walked through several, and they were all jammed. Most of the tables inside of the beer tents are reserved, year after year, by the same families or companies. You don't try to sit inside unless you know someone.

There are 5,900 seats in here, not one was empty. It was a weekday.

Since seats were not to be had inside, we took a couple of the 1,500 seats outside. Most of the oustide seating was empty because it was raining. We were joined by this group for reasons we couldn't figure out, but it gave the husband a bit more German practice. They also laughed at us quite a bit when, annoyed by the rain, we proceeded to drink under our umbrella.

Somthing else I was unprepared for: the size of the beer. I'm used to being able to choose the size of the beer I want. Here, we got a choice, masse or nothing. I took the masse, a couple of times. This explains the stat I heard that morning that 30% of all the beer consumption in Germany takes place at Oktoberfest. The guys next to us put away four each before I got through one.

As we moved from tent to tent, we were serenaded by the sounds of various bands. Mostly polka bands, a few rock bands. You haven't lived until you've heard "I Will Survive" as a polka sung with heavy German accents. It was awesome.

As was the spirit inside each of the tents. Everyone knew the songs being played, especially the traditional ones, most people knew the dances that went with it, and they got up on their tables to do it. I wanted to do it too, maybe next time. We will be going back.

So, after being awestruck by the tents and the lovely people therein, we wandered a bit. After the beer as big as my head, we ate a pretzel as big as my head, then we ordered the last knackwurst of closest wurst purveyor on the food row. It was still raining, we were still under the umbrella.

We then found ourselves unable to resist the freshly roasted cinnamon almonds and walnuts as we caught the wave of humans leaving the park and headed for the train station. The wave ambled it's way through very quiet streets, some still singing the songs and dancing the dances from the tents. We hummed along and grinned from ear to ear. It was time to catch the train to Paris, though we were a bit sad to say aufiderzein to Bavaria so soon.

Rewind: Munich, Part Eins

2011-01-21T10:49:00.000-08:00

On the train ride from Frankfurt to Munich, we had wifi. Thank you Deutsche Bahn. We were trying to finalize our stay that night with some friends of friends who lived about 50 kilometers outside of Munich. This would have required the three hour ride from Frankfurt to Munich, and a transfer to a slower train that would take another two hours to get to the village 50 kilometers away. Ugh.

I posted a status update before boarding in LA, and friends who live in Munich told us to come by, should we find ourselves in Munich. We took them up on their offer, used the light rail to get to Garching, and crashed (quite literally, it had been a long 36 hours) in their attic that night. We were told the next morning that though it made for a hectic night, our fly-in made them feel useful. They missed feeling useful.

Watch your head

We slept like logs, woke up to a lovely morning in Garching and rolled our bags back to the light rail station through the silence, minus the clackity-clackity we caused, mentally apologizing with every step. Cobblestones, gotta love 'em.

Breakfast was consumed in the Marktplatz, and I was expecting bread stuffs and coffee. We got this instead:

More than we could finish.

Back into Munich for some exploring, after securing the luggage at the train station.

There was the Glockenspeil:

The Viktualienmarkt:

Really hard not to buy something here, but we managed.

Very familiar displays with very unfamiliar names:

A gorgeous cathedral in the middle of a shopping area:

Oggling of dirndls (I really wanted to bring one home):

Lunch at the Hofbräuhaus, lamb ragout for me and pickled pigs foot for him. Both excellent.

Beer is a must.

The late afternoon was occupied by the walk to the park that contained Oktoberfest. Part zwei.

Marital Pants

2011-01-13T12:45:00.000-08:00

I've come to view the relationship Seena and I have as a fairly tanigble thing. It lives and breathes based on the care we provide it and each other. We like to think of ourselves as a team of equals. In my head, that's formed an image of us in a never-ending three-legged race toward whatever it is we're after. Decisions are made together, unless one of us doesn't cares to participate in the process on that particular issue and go in the direction pointed to by the other, which is rare.

Tuesday night, we were watching Parenthood. At the end of the show, during the "next week on..." bit, the patriarch of the family asks his youngest son "who wears the pants in your family?" Seena leans over and hugs me while intoning "I'm glad we're a pants free marriage."

I laughed until I couldn't breathe.

How I love him and us in our three-legged race clad in nothing but tops and tighty-whiteys.

Tell Us a Story

2011-01-08T00:00:00.000-08:00

As you may have picked up from previous posts, we like to cook. We also like to travel, but don't have the funds to make that happen as often as we'd like. We've come up with, what I hope, is a fun and interesting compromise for ourselves.

I read some food blogs, and I enjoy them. I make use of the information I find there a lot. I've often thought of starting one, but fear that I would run out material very quickly. I've wondered, on more than one occasion, how many others feel the same.

Seena and I decided that we're going to start a food blog this year based around the concept of a community cookbook. We want recipes from people, and the story that goes along with it. What does the food mean to you, or what does the person who introduced you to this food mean to you? Help us travel and get to know you from our kitchen. We receive a recipe, we'll post, we'll make, we'll post our thoughts about it and invite you to do the same. There's also the thought that at some point in the future the really good and the really interesting will be compiled into a book, but that's still up in the air.

Once we've created the blog, I'll post a link. We're still working on that, but we need some recipes to get us started. Feel like sharing with us? Send yours to thedayafter1011(at)gmail.com.

Also, please share if you think this is a terrible idea destined to fail. I've only bounced it off a few people. Sometimes the boy and I get excited about things that really won't go anywhere.

Rewind: Europe

2011-01-07T16:31:00.000-08:00

The itinerary went something like this:

LA - Frankfurt on a Lufthansa direct flight. Long, but shorter than the flight to Australia the year previous. Curt flight attendants, decent food, Milka bars available for the taking at the snack station near the restrooms. I was happy.

Frankfurt - Munich via train accessed without leaving the airport. Eurail passes were a great buy for this trip.

One day in Munich for Oktoberfest, the 200th anniversary no less.

Munich - Grasse via overnight train that stopped in Paris, Marsielle and Nice.

10 days in Grasse.

Grasse to Nice via Sallie and Theo's rented road tripper.

2 days in Nice with a day trip to Monaco on scooters(!).

Nice - Paris via train.

4 days in Paris.

Paris - Amsterdam via train.

3 days in Amsterdam.

Amsterdam - Frankfurt via train.

Frankfurt - LA on the reverse of the Lufthansa direct flight we took to get there. I was unable to get any sleep on the flight home, so I watched 6 movies instead. I really wished I could have slept.

Stories and photos to follow.

One Word

2010-12-16T11:43:00.000-08:00

Christmas is about to stand up and bite me in the rear. I had plans to be so ahead of the game, but they did not pan out quite as expected. Our tree is still not up, and while I have all of the gifts for the out-of-towners done, I need to ship them. I also need to get rolling on shopping for the man.

Holiday parties are in full swing. My office party was last weekend, 'twas lamey-lamey-lame lame-lame-lame-lame (except getting to hang with my friends in fancy duds) (also, say that lamey bit to the tune of Deck the Halls). Christmas potluck and secret santa exchange at my office yesterday. I got a stethoscope, YAY! His office party is Friday, should be interesting. There's always something implicitly akward about office parties at one of the bosses' house.

A couple of days ago, Craig and Andrea (Izone owners and all around wonderful friends) hosted a gathering of mostly work people for dinner. It's rare that a Tuesday night ends with people looking at the clock, blurting out "Holy crap! It's that late!" Wednesday morning was a bit painful, but was totally worth it.

And now, for the point of the post.

At this gathering, a toast was made where everyone at the table said one word to encompass what the holiday season and 2011 focus will be for them. Love, peace, beauty, all the usual suspects were present. My two favorite words of the evening: silence and acceptance (mine).

What's yours?

The Midget

2010-11-19T14:32:00.001-08:00

I realize that I've been horribly remiss and haven't properly introduced the Midget.

Basil, this is everyone. Everyone, Basil.

It's pronounced "BAH-sil," not "BAY-sil."

Before you ask, the name is a Fawlty Towers reference, not Sherlock Holmes or The Great Mouse Detective. It's the husband's favorite show, and I can see why. And no worries, you'll never find this Basil, the rat terrier, in the ratatouile.

We picked Basil out at the shelter in June. We had intentions of bringing home a dog somewhere between three and five years of age. Younger than George, but old enough to be mostly trained. We had our eye on a couple, online listings of shelters and rescue groups can be very dangerous things. I had been stalking for weeks.

We went to the shelter on that particular day with the intention of just looking. Getting a feel for the facility and the process. It's quite the schmancy digs for stray dogs, let me tell you. Pasadena-ites want to take care of the dispossessed four-leggers. We strolled through the sections with the bigger dogs, and looked at the couple we had been interested in. Seena decided he wasn't in love with either, so we kept strolling.

One very sad thing in most of shelters out here is that about 70 percent of the canine population of the shelters is split between pit bulls and chihuahuas. I'd take a pit bull any day over a chihuahua, but we can't have a pit bull where we live, so that was that. We continued our stroll into the section that contained the smaller dogs, mostly chihuahuas. I here behind me "AAAH, look at the puppy!" (You must add in the requisite manly-sounding baby talk here, it melted my heart). There was the Midget sitting quietly next to a frenetic, barky chihuahua. He came home with us a few days later, after being neutered.

It's been a long time since I've had a puppy. Housetraining was an adventure, but then one day, it was like he got it. Classical conditioning in action, it just took longer than I had hoped. He weighs about 13 pounds and can run for hours. He's skiddish with people and acts tough with dogs until they are standing in front of him, then he plays nice. He's goofy, and we anthropomorphize him much to much. But he made our house whole after putting George to sleep.

He wasn't what we intended, but (cliche alert) just what we needed.

Rewind: Road Trip

2010-11-18T12:45:00.001-08:00

The Midget and I took a road trip this past summer. Three weeks of seeing family, proving to myself that traveling alone isn't as big and scary as I thought, and that time with family can be restorative. Some relationships were deepened, others were rekindled, and I'd do it all over again, given the chance. I spent more time with my parents, and at my old haunts, than I have since I left five years ago. It was bittersweet and fantastic.

One thing I wished for while I was gone for most of August: a card to send to my husband that expressed how much I missed him, but was glad I was doing what I was doing. There aren't really any "I miss you, but I'm glad you're not here" cards. And I don't mean that as a dig on the boy. Time apart is good, and the reunion was sweet.

Not much documentation of this trip, sadly. I was far too busy enjoying myself to worry about the camera. Most of what went on was so internal, and personal, that this post is more a bookmark for me than a recap.

Europe Rewind coming soon.

Paper Cranes

2010-10-25T20:14:00.000-07:00

We were home for three days from Europe and in the jet-lagged induced fog that goes with an 11.5 hour flight. Seena came home from work and gave me the usual home-from-work hug, but this one was accompanied by a very serious face and teary eyes. A friend at work, whom Seena had just had lunch with two days prior, was been hit by a car while crossing a street. Obviously in the hospital, he was also in a coma.

The friend has since emerged from the coma, but not the woods. His wife and daughter returned as soon as they were able from China. A liaison from the office has been to visit a couple of times, but information about the friend's whereabouts are being kept close to the vest.

Paper cranes were folded for this friend tonight. As an outsider, you feel compelled to do something, as futile as the gesture may be. 1000 of them will be delivered to his bedside tomorrow. I participated, and tried to let the folds and creases package away my thoughts, I tried not to think about if this were Seena. Everything can change, you never know. But it hurts just to consider the possibility.

We folded our cranes with good thoughts and positive energy for this friend. He's one of the good ones. Hopefully, little paper wings can help lift the way healing.

Two Years

2010-10-12T02:53:00.000-07:00

Paris is for lovers, and we took full advantage.

We had the best meal of our lives to date.

"You in the bedroom and that in the kitchen and life would be perfect." He's such a romantic.

We talked about what we want from the upcoming year. If our last year is any indication, we'll be wildly successful at making things happen for us.

I won't say it can't get better than this, because that is to say we've peaked. We just happen to be on our biggest adventure so far. There's many adventures ahead of us, and I wouldn't want to share them with anyone else.

Here's to year three.

Kitchen Adventures: Overripe Fruit

2010-07-19T07:34:00.000-07:00

Due to a week spent at Izone watching the big boys, I came home this weekend to a fridge full of very, VERY overripe fruit. Four pounds of peaches on the verge and 5 bananas that were as black as Basil's head. What do to with it all that doesn't involve tossing it in the bin?

For the bananas: roasted banana frozen yogurt. Rita's recipe at PinkBites was wonderful, the only tweak I made was the addition of 1 teaspoon of cinnamon and 1/2 teaspoon of cardamom to the brown sugar that goes on the bananas prior to roasting. A tub of Fage nonfat yogurt and 40 minutes after being introduced into the ice cream maker we had a tasty treat that comes out of the freezer with almost the consistency of soft serve, but silkier. Variations on this theme will be played with.

For the peaches: fridge jam. I used the template provided by the strawberry refrigerator jam from the kitchn, using the measurements but my sad, sad fruit that had been blanched briefly to make the peeling process as slick as possible and the sugar was half granulated and half brown because that was what I had. It had been a while since my pantry had been stocked. I also tossed in the juice of half a lemon. This being the first time I've attempted to "can" anything, I wanted to keep it as simple as possible. I sterilized the jars for the jam in the oven and now have 4 jars of simple, not-to-sweet jam. Since it is pectin-less, it is a little loose, but that doesn't make it any less yummy.

After the jam, I still had two peaches left. I threw them in the blender along with the juice all over the cutting board and a 6 ounce carton of vanilla greek yogurt. Pour into popsicle molds, or paper cups with toothpicks, and *tada*, creamy peach popsicles.

The four jars of jam hand my mind buzzing with ways to use the jam. I'd hate for the jam to go bad after having rescued the fruit from the same fate. We had a dinner gathering last night to help a couple of friends assemble their wedding invites. I decided to make a savory something to take along. Dorrie Greenspan's corniest corn muffins via Smitten Kitchen, peach jam doctored with balsamic vinegar, sriracha, salt and pepper (all to taste), and Thomas Keller's goat cheese mousse came together for an appetizer cupcake. I filled the corn muffin with the peach jam, placed the little caps back on and piped on the mousse. They were tasty, and surprised my friends. They thought I had made another batch of sweet cupcakes. I'm trying to branch out, baby steps.

Summer hit us in full force this week with the triple digit temperatures that we've been bracing for. My mom shared a Giada De Laurentiis recipe that hit the spot during the swelter, a grilled chopped salad. I had to remember to feed our bellies with more than sweet stuff, and this will grace our grill again (and again) this summer. Fast, easy, tasty. My favorite kind of dinner.

Two days of playing in the kitchen makes for a happy girl, a spoiled boy and a fridge full of goodies.

Sunday Afternoon

2010-07-06T18:22:00.000-07:00

Over hot dogs at one our new regular haunts.*

Him: What do you think you're going to do with your time off?

Me: I don't know. I should probably start looking for a job.

Him: Why would you do that? Is that what you want to do?

Me: Not really, but it feels irresponsible not to.

Him: Why irresponsible?

Me: Okay, maybe more much too decadent. What would I do with myself otherwise?

Him: Travel. Read books. Take photographs. Everything. Nothing.

Me: You'd be okay with that?

Him: Absolutely!

And, with that, a season full of possibility was born.

As of July 30th, I am done with my educational obligations until I am accepted into and start a nursing program. The earliest that would happen is January. Between August 1 and the as-yet defined start date, the thoughts are to take my first solo road trip (plans are already coming together for that one, and not totally solo. I'm taking the dog.), a motorcycle safety class so I can get the license, we're planning a trip to France as a couple, he's encouraging me to find a reason to stay longer, maybe a week in New York, possibly a trip to Quebec and who knows what else. It's more a list of things I would do if money were no object, but it will be. But, WOW! It is so freeing to make that list.

Now to work on the road trip playlist.

* This conversation took place two days after the boy came with me to see Eclipse. How lucky am I?

Lazy Slacker

2010-06-30T13:23:00.000-07:00

Yep, that's me. At least when it comes to this blog. I'm approaching almost three months of all silent on the internets front, and I miss it. I miss you, ephemeris individuals who kindly comment on my ramblings.

As agirl called me out for back in May (see? Lazy Slacker.), I am a tease. Parts 1 and 2 of the move were written. It's going to end there. Suffice it to say, we thought we might have to take our former landlord to small claims court for a nanosecond. Everything worked out, we got our deposit back and we love our current place. We moved about four months ago, but it feels like eons and I'm having difficulty recalling enough detail to spin and interesting yarn out of it.

Here's a the hurried-up version of what's swinging, and swung, through Chez Hassouna in the last few months:

I finished the five classes that made up my spring semester.
I survived the group project that was part of the spring semester without harming any group members in the process. That was a test of my will.
I started the summer session with one weekend between the end of spring classes and the beginning of the summer one. The summer one that I attend 4 days a week, 5.5 hours at a stretch.
My dad came for a visit on his way to Singapore.
Husband's mom came for a visit.
My dad dropped back by on his way back home.
My parents came for a visit together.
All the parent visits happened within a month's time.
The boy got a promotion. He now holds the job title and salary to match the job he's been performing for over a year.
We got a puppy. He's a pound puppy. His name is Basil, a Fawlty Towers reference, and I have yet to get a photo that shows his scale. He's small. 8 pounds of wagging tail, tiny tongue and growly ball chasing. And ears, one floppy, one not, making him look permanently surprised. Too darn cute for his own good.

So, between the class (microbiology) that's going to be the center my world until the end of July, the boy's busy work schedule and the demands of puppy-dom, I haven't really felt I had anything worth writing about. I didn't want to bore you, but bore you I shall because I miss the exercise of mental de-cluttering this space provides. I also need to stop hiding so much. I've spent much of my downtime with my nose in books. Anita Blake, House of Night, The Black Dagger Brotherhood and some Dan Savage have been a respite from the (what feels like) unending repetition of days that are starting to run together. Nothing wrong with a few good books, but I feel like I'm going to slowly retreat from social life in general if I don't watch it. Got to shake myself out of that.

I can't say how regularly you'll hear from me, but more often than every two-ish months.

The Scratch

2010-04-11T19:02:00.000-07:00

The Move, part 2.

I call the corporate landlord's phone number for The Stuart and make the requisite appointment to see a leasing agent and discuss the interesting one bedroom apartment. The next day, the umbrella and I head to the train station, giddy at the thought of using transportation to something, anything. We'd become far too reliant on the car as of late and I was itching to change that.

Ten minutes later, I'm in the lobby of The Stuart and shaking hands with the most laissez faire salesman of any kind I have ever come across. Refreshing. Lovely. Laissez leasing agent informs me that the apartment I have come to see cannot be seen because it is still occupied. It's a popular floor plan and tends to be rented before being seen. I'm not totally comfortable putting down a deposit on something I have not seen and tell him that we'll get back in touch should the unit still be available after the current tenants move out. Thanks for your time.

But wait! There's another, *very* similar unit empty. It's bigger, more expensive, but maybe it can give you an idea of what our units are like. Can't hurt to take a look, right?

Right.

Open the front door onto a big kitchen, outfitted more than adequately. You know how kitchens are supposed to have sink, stove and refrigerator laid out in a triangle? This kitchen is laid out with one. There is no carpet in the living area. The bathroom is huge, and the bathtub is huger. The bedroom is lovely. The patio is large enough to fit our full-size bbq with room for tables and chairs. There is a magical little closet in the hallway that contains the holy grail of apartment living: washer and dryer.

In addition, there is a pool and hot tub just a short, leisurely stroll from our back door. The parking lot is underground, and gated. The clubhouse is a place where people actually hang out. The gym is well kept and open 24/7.

In case you can't tell, I was immediately smitten. Though I did my best to not let on. I needed to bring Seena back to see how he feels.

I do just that two days later. He likes the place, but is more reticent than I to close the deal in one visit. We go across the street for lunch to discuss, we are the types to list out pros and cons. Several napkins were sacrificed to our decision making process. Before our discussion is over, Seena has a pen out and is sketching potential layout schemes for our furniture.

We're moving? We're moving.

We head back across the street. We find out that we are taking the apartment away from another couple who looked, liked, but decided that they wanted to look a few more places first. Our check trumps their potential return. We have a move-in date 14 days hence. 2/21.

We also have two housesitting commitments that coincide with each other, one that started just the night before the fateful apartment visit and will extend until the first week of March. Seena is starting a meeting cycle the likes of which neither of us were prepared for. I'm finishing the six week physiology intensive, get a weekend to ~~breathe~~ move and jumping into a fifteen credit spring semester.

Oh, and our current, seemingly awesome landlord is about to hit the crazy button.

The Itch

2010-03-17T09:29:00.000-07:00

The Move, Part 1

Let's rewind to just after Christmas.

After a visit home to my family for the holiday, Seena and I return to our little housey-house (yes, that's what we called it) and we weren't feeling quite so at home any more. There are two children, ages 2 and newborn, who sleep (or don't, depending on the night) 6 feet from our bedroom window. There's not much insulation in the house. Even though it doesn't get that cold here, it can still get chilly and our gas bill tripled because the tiny heater in the front room really doesn't do anything besides run all the time and heat the three feet in front of it where the dog sleeps. We had also experienced the same tripling in the electric bill over the summer because of air conditioners. It took 3 to make the place bearable.

Also, there are too many walls. I miss being able to be involved with what's happening in places that are not the kitchen when I'm in the kitchen.

In short, we were sort of over the place.

We've experienced this itch before. It's one of the up- and downsides to being a renter. We can move anytime. But that means we'd have to move. Usually just nosing around is enough to scratch the itch.

So, in the middle of January, I start nosing around on Craigslist. There isn't a whole lot grabbing my interest.

Jump to early February, we're out to brunch at a lovely little place, enjoying a little sunshine between rainstorms and see bicycles scoot past us pulling trailers advertising a new community around the corner. We decide to take a look, just for fun.

It gorgeous. All sorts of sustainable touches: energy star appliances, front loading washer and dryer, double flush toilets (a rarity in these parts). The layout of the apartment we might be able to afford, if we really really stretched our budget, was nice, but a tad cramped feeling. Plus, there was carpet in the living room, no thanks. But, it's in a great part of town, closer to transit, not to mention shiny and new. We walk away deciding we need to think about it, reviews are happening at work for Seena soon, maybe a raise? Maybe we could afford it?

Then the company drops the hammer: no raises, no bonuses. Damn.

I continue my Craigslist perusing thinking nothing is going to change, but it helps to look. A week or so after walking away from shiny and new, I see an ad for a community that's still shiny. Not quite as new, but very nice. They had been way out of our price range when they opened, but come to find out that they are a Fair Housing community and rents have been adjusted to reflect the current economy. They came down, big time. There's an apartment, one bedroom, for rent that is the same size as our two bedroom house. Interesting.

How the Boys Spent Sunday

2010-03-08T11:07:00.000-08:00

One was a busy, serious grown-up.

Making use of the tools of his trade, feeling like he's no longer playing at being an architect. He's licensed now, it's full on and for real.

The other made up for the lack of loafing.

This is what Sundays are for, after all.

Elbow, Elbow, Wrist, Wrist

2010-02-09T11:23:00.001-08:00

Hello to anyone who hasn't been here before and found their way through APW. Have a looksee.

And for those of you who pop around sometimes, because you're wonderful and nice, sorry I've been missing. It's a bit busy here as Chez BSG. Housesitting for two different friends while we pack up the house to move, Seena's in the middle of meetings for one of the biggest projects he has ever been on and I'm approaching the end of a physiology class that has the same content as a 16 week class packed into 6. I know, what was I thinking. The few minutes of down time I've been able to grab in the last few weeks has not found me in a thinking mood. Hence the post darkness.

Anyway, just wanted to smile and wave at you all.

see more dog and puppy pictures

The Nuts

2010-01-28T17:43:00.001-08:00

Driving home tonight, Lady Gaga (who I have come to adore despite my large efforts to hate her) and her Poker Face made an appearance on the radio. It reminded me of a funny happening last week.

I don't play poker often, I've played maybe 5 times in my life. Mostly with my parents. A friend organized a Texas Hold-Em night last Friday. The buy-in was $10 a person. Seena lost his pretty quickly. I played for 4 hours on one buy-in and walked away with $15. Not a bad night.

Since I don't play often, sometimes I miss things. Early on in the night, I pull pocket queens and end up with four queens at the end. I didn't miss that. About an hour later, my pocket contains two hearts of little significance. I don't know why I didn't fold, but I didn't. When the hand was nearing an end, I checked because I didn't think I had anything. As it would turn out, I had a flush.

I'm not particularly well-versed in poker jargon, but I can keep up to a certain degree. When I checked on, what I thought, was a hand full of crap, I got hit with a phrase I had not heard before. One of the dirtiest euphemisms I've heard in quite a long time.

A horribly belated quote of the day.

You ready?

"You checked the nuts?"

I generally reserve that one for behind closed doors. I am an honorable girl, thank you very much.

The Adventures of Lieutenant Literal

2010-01-27T13:47:00.000-08:00

I so deserve a dope slap.

Why, you ask?

Apparently I am that girl who takes things a bit too literally sometimes. Then, I spend half an hour thinking about what I should have said, knowing there are no conversational (or in this case, twitter) mulligans, and kicking my own behind mentally. This happens at least weekly, and I despise how uncool these moments reveal me to be. I'm not cool, but I don't need to tell the world repeatedly. Idiot.

Last night I tweet this:

Ooey gooey brownies that aren't terrible for me. I am a happy girl. #fbabout 17 hours ago from TweetDeck

This morning, I find a reply from Julia at Color Me Green:

tocolormegreen

@October12 what makes the brownies not so terrible for you?about 7 hours ago from web in reply to October12

I'm a nice girl, so I respond:

@tocolormegreen the added fats consisted of 2 T butter, 1egg, 1 egg white. Rest of fat replaced with prune purée. Still fudgy and good.about 6 hours ago from TweetDeck in reply to tocolormegreen

Cate Subrosa joins the conversation:

catesubrosa

@October12 Sounds good, care to share the whole recipe?about 4 hours ago from Twitterrific in reply to October12

I post the link:

@catesubrosa http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/guilt-free-brownies?xsc=eml_cod_2010_01_21 I'm not good enough to figure it out myself.about 4 hours ago from TweetDeck in reply to catesubrosa

She replies thusly:

catesubrosa

@October12 Yum, I have to try that. Also I guess you have to ration yourself for fear of the laxative effect of too many prunes?!about 4 hours ago from Twitterrific in reply to October12

And here is where I look like an asshat:

@catesubrosa I used a dark cocoa, 73% cacao if I remember right. Makes more than 1 feel too rich. At least for me.about 1 hour ago from TweetDeck in reply to catesubrosa

She was making a joke, about poo. I had just walked out of physiology class, where we were not talking about poo, and apparently I was still carrying around my science brain. Usually jokes that involve bodily functions have me tittering like a 9 year old boy. She's talking about poo! Heeheeehee. But no, I proceed to inform her how I limit myself to just one brownie at a time. Funny girl FAIL!

What I should have said was:

When it comes to chocolate, I'm willing to risk it.