Obsessive? Me?

Every year I pick a book up for AB for Christmas. He enjoys reading a lot, but so infrequently has the time for it. Traveling at Christmas seems to be the exception to this rule when we are both afforded the luxury of a little down time while spending it with family. Particularly while visiting my family, it is a good idea that AB have a good book to absorb himself in. Not that there is anything wrong with my family, of course.

This year I was at a loss as to what book to get AB. He hasn’t mentioned anything in particular. Actually the only book he did mention was the sequel to my December book club selection, Persepolis. But since I knew he would sit down and read it in an afternoon, it wasn’t a worthy candidate for vacation reading. So instead I ordered that the other day, it arrived last night. Leif squealed “Happy Birthday!” while AB opened the box. I went to the bathroom last night, saw it sitting on the floor and was surprised to see he had already read almost a quarter of the book between the time it arrived (5:30pm), when we ate dinner, and when he had to leave for class at 6:40pm. So I am not the only obsessive one.

AB is a sci-fi fan. Not fanatic. Just fan. He loves all the classics, but is fairly particular about the books he reads nowadays. He just doesn’t have the time to sit down and read every single book that looks interesting. He likes the latest Dune books by Herbert’s son and usually purchases those in hardback immediately upon release. That is the only set he is compulsive about reading. He likes Kim Stanley Robinson, but lately has been less than thrilled with his/her books. He read The Sparrow from my book club and then read the sequel and enjoyed those. All of these together and I could not for the life of me come up with a decent book to order for him for Christmas.

I performed a few searches online and sorry to say, every single book or cover looked like a bunch of cheese to me. (Sorry sci-fi fans.) I actually enjoy some limited sci-fi. Two of my top favorite books are considered sci-fi: Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and The Time Traveler’s Wife by Niffeneger. I also enjoyed The Sparrow and KSR’s Antarctica (because I am a polar expeditions buff, a little obsessive about adventure stories in the extreme poles). Still what I saw out there struck me as cheese. Cheese somewhat akin to those sweeping romance novel covers with some bare chested beast of a man bending over a voluptuous woman lying on some chaise. Ok, so I may buy books based off the covers… I did start out college as an art major (2nd to biology).

I decided to wander (in the cold) over to the building next to me that houses the real geeks of my directorate today in search of advice on this conundrum. Wow did I get a wealth of information. I could have saved myself a fair amount of time had I just started out over there. Lesson learned, most scientists like sci-fi.

I placed an order for four books today. I fear I may have just doomed my husband’s final semester of school. I only intended on getting him one book. I bought the first book that the nuclear physicists all declared the most real science in a fiction book. (Which I know is always a problem for AB being a scientist.) It got rave reviews and was evidently published before Frank Herbert died and earned accolades from even him. That gave me the thumbs up since AB thinks Herbert to be “the man”. The other three books comprise a trilogy.

The minute this trilogy was mentioned I KNEW it was for AB. The title was the only thing I had to hear before the “ding ding ding we have a winner bell” went off. I knew I had to get it. I raced back to my office and found it, well most of it. The first two books for $6.99 each in mass market paperback. The third book for $69 available used from private sellers on Amazon. I was certain this was a mistake, a misplaced decimel point and did a little more research. It wasn’t wrong.

I headed back out (in the cold) to the building next door to ask more questions. Is the third book really necessary to the trilogy? (The responses filled the building with roars of laughter and adamant “YES’s”.) Ok, so I figured that… otherwise what is the purpose of a trilogy. I was filled with advice not to buy the books unless I can get my hands on the third. AB would kill me otherwise. Of course these are also my friends and there were offers to loan him the third book. A last resort… neither AB or I like to borrow books unless they are from family (who usually don’t care if they get them back). AB is hard on books and me? It just takes me forever to get through a book anymore.

The obsession set in. I hiked back to my office. (Yes, I do actually work throughout the day.) I started my search. There *had* to be some used bookstore somewhere that doesn’t realize the value of the book. Doesn’t there? I searched… and searched… Apparently $69 is the going rate for a USED version of the book and furthermore, used book stores are quite savvy in knowing what books (particularly out of print books) are worth. I felt dejected.

Because I knew it was SO perfect, I finally decided to just order the first two books and keep my eye open for the final book of the trilogy and if I don’t find it, take one of the nuc guys up on their offer that he could borrow it. I was somehow compelled to try one more search.

Which was not in vain! I don’t know how but I found the book for about $12 (₤6), new, in the UK! A quick check to find out that yes indeed it was in stock and new, and capable of being shipped to the US! I plunked down my credit card number quickly, secured the copy and felt incredibly gratified. A paperback book for $25 (including shipping)? I would normally balk. But I was obsessed… just a little.

Now, I have the perfect gift for AB. And one he would have NEVER suspected in a million years.

Returning to a normal life

I had a good week off for the most part. There were a few wrinkles thrown in… like needing to pick Leif up early on Wednesday because he was Mr. Fussypants at daycare. (So much for making the stuffing early.) AB being stuck at the computer working on homework for seriously nearly every bit of time off through until Saturday at 8pm. (So the things I needed his help with went undone.) And then my coming down with a nasty stomach bug on Sunday morning that completely spoiled my last remaining day of time off. (Leaving a number of projects 75% done.)

My stomach bug has apparently abated though as of this evening. I was struck with hunger at about 3:30pm and headed to the vending machine at work where I chowed two chocolate cookies. I know, I probably shouldn’t have come into work. My plan was to sit in my office and catch up with things. Little did I know that nearly everyone I know would have to stop by for a hi and to chat about the holiday. I warned every single one of them to keep their distance!

Thursday we had a traditional Thanksgiving feast that we shared with our friends V, K and their daughter C. Leif and C had a great time playing, when they weren’t fighting over whichever toy the other had found. (And would have likely put down in 5 seconds if the other hadn’t shown an interest.) AB smoked a turkey, we had a sausage parmesan dressing, cream of mushroom soup, mashed potatoes and turkey gravy, and zinfandel cranberry sauce. We had pumpkin pie (my favorite) for dessert.

Friday we abandoned leftovers (thankfully) for V’s chicken curry, daal, fried plantains and rice. Yum. All I can say. I chowed.

The rest of the weekend was lackluster to subpar. The highlight was swimming lessons where Leif insisted on “no under”. (No putting his head under the water.) But excelled at floating on his back. I will thank Ballou from The Jungle Book for that one. Leif loves that part where Ballou is floating and Mogli is sitting on his stomach. He took note that Ballou was “floating back” and practiced all week in the big tub and then showed off his stuff at swimming Saturday.

It was good AB finished up what he needed to on his project Saturday night because Sunday morning I was stricken with a death grip on my stomach. Yeah fun. Notsomuch. I was so incredibly bummed by this not only by being sick (and I hate being sick), but also seeing the snow coming down outside and watching Leif play in it from the couch. I really was longing to get out with him and throw a few snowballs or make a (small) snowman. But it was a no go. After he got up from nap Leif was feeling incredibly mommy deprived and spent much of the afternoon and evening with me on the couch. And wow did we pay for this. He did not get nearly enough physical activity yesterday, which made bedtime a hassle (sorry AB) and he was up numerous times last night (again sorry AB). He was up at 5:45am this morning, standing by my side of the bed. He crawled in and despite my rubbing his back refused to fall asleep for another 45 minutes. So Teletubbies it was at 6am.
Today I managed to get another significant dent placed in my Christmas shopping list. I avoided Black Friday like the plague, but eagerly awaited Cyber Monday. I have whittled my list down to only about 25% of it remaining. And that 25% represents my “hard to buy for” list.

A week half spent

I am far too rapidly approaching that 50% spent mark on my week off. I have completely relished nearly five days of wearing comfortable clothes, applying no make-up and pulling my hair back into a ponytail.

I was unprepared for my trip by the grocery store this morning to pick up a few remaining items for our feast tomorrow (namely the turkey, a 16 lbs beast, the smallest I could find). I found more people I work with at the grocery store than I normally see on a day of work. They were obviously unprepared for seeing everyone else as well since I saw loads of sweatpants. I grabbed my few things and ran home to enjoy my last day of solitude at home.

The weekend was good, Leif loved swimming. Monday he went into school, I ran home and got busy cleaning out the guest room, cutting out fabric for the new baby's quilt and making a few Thankgiving dishes that could be prepared substantially ahead of time. Now if I can just keep AB's fingers out of the Zinfandel Cranberry Sauce I won't have to wonder if I need to make a second batch.

Tuesday I kept Leif at home with grand plans to walk he and the dog down to Starbucks and enjoy a warm drink with my son in the shop. The drizzly fog kept us from enjoying this trip and instead we watched Sesame Street and got a jump on our clay ornament making. We went to go meet AB for lunch at noon. We never made it since Leif fell asleep in the car. I turned the car around and took advantage of his timing by transferring him into his bed and enjoying the three hour naptime to work on getting more done around the house.

I took Leif into school again today so that he could enjoy their Thanksgiving party and I could pick up my messy house and cook. So far I have turkey stock on the stovetop, a pumpkin pie in the oven and my ingredients for cinnamon rolls pulled out onto the counter. I need to make my bean dip and the dressing and I will be in good shape for tomorrow.

Have I said yet that I love Thanksgiving? I really do. I love cooking the feast, I love drinking the warm Wassail (yes, I know it is a Christmas drink, but I enjoy it at Thanksgiving too). I love watching the Macy's Thanksgiving day parade (even though AB sits there rolling his eyes sure that he is missing some great football game). And I love reminiscing into the past...

Starting the day out watching the parade on TV, anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus at the end. Because that meant that Christmas was *officially* on the way.

Or like the first Thanksgiving I ever remember helping my mom cook. Me in my little apron, in our little house on Jim Bridger Street and feeling so important in helping her with this feast. It was snowing out, a lot. One of the boys from my class came to see if I wanted to go sledding. I declined in favor of staying inside to help cook. A sign of years to come.

Or preparing our first Thanksgiving ever in Reno with our friends from San Francisco lounging around the apartment while I pondered when in the world that little pop up timer on the turkey was actually going to pop. (For the record, I have *never* seen one pop.) We ate about 7:30pm that night.

We have come a long way in our Thanksgiving meals. Some things remain constant over the past few years. Our gravy usually has problems, despite the fact that any other day of the year I can make a stellar gravy. My cream of wild mushroom soup remains the thing I really just would rather eat as a main course despite that wonderfully cooked turkey that belongs on the pages of Bon Appetit. (I am not a big fan of turkey.) AB is in charge of the turkey and always grills/smokes it. And pumpkin pie, homemade. And family and friends. What could be better?

The poop post

Ok, read at your own risk. You have been warned. Other notes to the post… if you don’t have kids and you want kids someday, also don’t read this post. If you don’t have kids and don’t want kids, don’t read because I don’t want to hear the sarcastic laughing.

AB was showering, I was in the bathroom getting ready and Leif was watching an Elmo video. Or so I thought. Evidently he had instead pooped his pants. Being the smart kid he is, he went to his bathroom to deal with it. Really, mommy and daddy would rather be the ones to deal with it, but Leif’s independence streak runs strong. (Wonder where he gets that?)

Of course I knew none of this and next thing I know, he is standing in the doorway of our bathroom with his pants around his ankles and poopy underwear around his knees. Can I just say that his BMs haven’t firmed up nearly enough since the bout of diarrhea last week? The kid is going to be eating cheese all weekend. I took his hand and lead him back to his bathroom with talks about “remember we talked about getting a new toy if you go poopy in the potty…” yadda yadda yadda.

Apparently I just am oblivious as I walked across the house. We turn the corner to go down the hallway to the bathroom and panic overcomes me. There is poop everywhere. There is a 2 foot long large drizzle of poop on the carpet down the hall, like someone took a bottle of Hershey’s syrup... There is poop on his favorite blanket. There is poop on the straps of the Kelty backpack carrier sitting innocently in the hall for goodness sake. There is poop all over the bathroom floor and toilet seat.

I look down and notice then that Leif’s legs are covered. I strip him over the linoleum and carry him, arms extended back to our bathroom yelling at AB not to get out of the shower yet!! (Noting along the way the streaks of poop through the dining room linoleum and living room carpet that I earlier walked right on past.) I whip the shower open and hand Leif to him. AB has a disgusting look on his face. “Don’t look at me that way,” I tell him, “you got the good end of this stick.”

A little later AB calls from the shower, “I take it you fed him corn yesterday?” At least this time he was in the shower with a huge drain.

Post #500

Wow, there's a milestone!

I simply had to recognize this. Mostly because the topic that will grace post #501 is not worthy of this momentous number. I don't want to remember forever that post #500 was "The Poop Post".

Nine days off!

I was so worthless at work today. Today is my last day at work before my annual Thanksgiving week off. Since I started working here I save my two personal holidays every year, add in a vacation day and take the entire Thanksgiving week off and spend it at home. We never travel for Thanksgiving, instead we love to cook and hang out with whoever can come see us. I take this time to plan our feast, something I love doing, and get caught up on things around the house that need to be tackled. And somedays, I just vege out.

Leif will be going to school on Monday and Wednesday of next week. He is off Thursday and Friday naturally. I had planned on taking him to daycare Monday and Tuesday so I can tackle his new room with paint and do some sewing without his assistance, then keep him home Wednesday to be with me. But then the teachers (who I love) had to go and spoil my plans and plan a special Thanksgiving celebration for the kids on Wednesday. Sure, Leif can miss it, but he really likes food preparation (they get to make mashed potatoes) and I want him to be included. Plus, I won’t have to pack him a lunch.

I have a huge list of things I plan to do. First and foremost is start getting the guest room painted for Leif’s big move. There is a lot of stuff to move and I will have to enlist AB’s help for a lot of this. I will be somewhat limited in how much I can actually get done on my own. AB mentioned working on this “after Thanksgiving”, which made my heart sink a little. Just something I want to tackle on my days home without little hands to help!! But I know he has a good reason for this… he is damn busy with work and school right now.

The second big project is that I want to make the second baby’s quilt. I have the fabric, have it washed, I need to iron it and start cutting pieces. This will be something fun for me to do as I sit in front of the TV and laugh at soap operas and Dr. Phil, Oprah and the like.

I have two or three closets I need seriously cleaned out for different reasons. My linen closet for the simple reason you can’t find anything in there. The two utility room closets because a lot of stuff stored in the guest room is going to wind up there. AB needs to retrieve the Christmas decorations from the attic so I can set about decorating in my free time (happy dancing as I think about my goodies I bought last year from Pottery Barn and Target on clearance). Oh and I need an oil change on my car and should probably think seriously about looking at new tires for my car. Ugh.

On the day Leif stays home with me I plan to make Jay’s salt clay and we are going to make some Christmas presents for him to give. Leif will really like that and since it is salt clay, maybe just maybe he won’t be inclined to eat it?

I will pop in on the internet some, but probably won’t be around a whole lot. Everyone have a very Happy Thanksgiving. Travel safe if you are traveling! Stay safe if not!

Prayers

AB or I normally lead Leif in prayers each night. I can’t do the “Now I lay me down to sleep…” prayer right now, lest I burst into tears. Yes, I am *that* hormonal. Leif has started saying his own versions of prayers this week. Here is last nights:

Dear Got,
Keep Daddy safe.
Keep Tumblebus safe.
Keep C safe (his closest friend and our closest friends’ daughter).
Keep Tubbies safe. (Teletubbies)
Keep the stars safe.
(Pause… I ask him if there is anyone else we want to keep safe?)
Keep Bompa safe (grandpa).
Keep Winny safe.
Keep Happy Birthday safe (?!?!?)
(Anyone else I ask? Pause… Finally I give in… how about mommy?)
Keep Mommy safe.
Thank you Got.
I love you Got.
Amen

Follow up to the gender post below

I have copied here my friend, V's, recent rant from August regarding gender stereotyping and the character Abby Caddabby from Sesame Street with her permission. Thoughtful and well written. See the link to the article in question.

http://www.philly.com/mld/inquirer/15328672.htm

"For all my hang-ups about gender stereotypes (to recap, my personal axis of evil = Britney Spears, Miss America, but I really have to replace "Barbie" with Paris Hilton - at least Barbie seemed to have gender-breaking jobs that required an education, and you've got to admire a woman with impeccable lipstick in outerspace), it seems to me that society is refusing to let little girls have feminine role models anymore. There is nothing wrong with being a girly-girl, or embracing parts of that personality type. But for society to say that it is a "bad" stereotype is going to confuse and alienate a lot of little girls. I would have characterized myself as a girly-girl when I was a little girl - because I envied my big sisters' "glamour" (they were 14 and 16 when I was 8 - Glamour is relative!) - but in hindsight, I was most definitely dominantly a tomboy (tree-climber, bug-collector, household "chemist," farmer, and doohickey taker-aparter) and intellectual (reader and puzzle-solver) who savoured the girly moments (my first pair of high heels, the first time I got to wear lip gloss to church, getting my ears pierced, my sister buying me my first little make-up kit and bra for my 13th birthday). This non-"issue" makes me mad enough that I want to figure out to whom I should write a letter. And no - I don't think the Herald is the right forum. I'm thinking the Sesame Street workshop or something. This might even make me start a blog, just so I can voice an opinion and pretend it might be heard.

PS: I LOVE the comment that if Cookie Monster was a girl, the "watchdog critics" would be accusing him of being bulimic."

Raising kids in a gender society

One thing that continues to perplex me about parenting is trying not to force gender issues. I think this is easier if you have girls. But as of yet, I don’t have a girl to say this definitively, so feel free to disagree. As my FIL put it when my MIL asked him if he wanted boys or girls he answered, “girls, you can make a girl a tomboy, but you don’t want to make a boy a sissy”. And they had three boys and one girl.

This has become a relatively minor issue with AB and I in raising Leif. AB balked a little when I picked up The Little Mermaid on DVD for a Christmas present. “But it’s a girl movie!” he whined. Just because the lead is a female mermaid does not mean a boy can’t or shouldn’t enjoy it. A few years ago I saw a statistic that said that children’s movies where the leads are girls are most often flops because parents of boys don’t take their boys to see them. Yet parents of girls will take their daughters to see movies where the leads are boys. We are teaching girls from an early age that you can transcend gender barriers, but we are teaching boys that they need to be masculine and disregard things that concern girls or place girls in the position of power. This doesn’t automatically engender acceptance among the male up and coming population to know and understand that boys AND girls can do anything they want.

My son is just over two. He doesn’t understand gender. When I ask him if he is going to have a sister or a brother, 95% of the time he says “sister”. Not because he knows the difference between girls and boys (although so many of the potty training toddlers in his class walk around with their pants around their ankles, maybe he is starting to learn the difference), no he says this, I believe, because “sister” is easier to say. Both AB and I bathe and shower with Leif and he has not asked any questions yet. He just loves when one of us hops in the “big tub” with him.

The other day I decided at Target that Leif needed a few placemats so that he quits destroying our dining room table. They had a crappy selection (par for the course at my Target, I am anxiously awaiting the *new* Target!). I layed them out and asked Leif to pick one out. I was thrilled when he picked out one of the least offensive. Not that they were “offensive”… I guess least “obnoxious” is a better word. He smiled and said, “Cat” as he pulled it out of the stack. Hello Kitty. About that time AB walked up and balked and put the placemat back in the stack and pulled out a Superman placemat. Leif has no idea who Superman is, he could care less. Thankfully he also let out a squeal that is indicative of an upcoming meltdown that caused AB to think (quickly) about taking away the Hello Kitty placemat and he pulled it back out and tossed it in the cart (along with the Superman placemat).

My husband is a super guy who has always been one of my biggest advocates for advancing my career in a male dominated field. He has provided “the male perspective” when I have encountered issues with working in my last research group full of serious testosterone. My husband was raised by a progressive mom who worked, who made her boys clean the house and who took her daughter fishing. He gets it. He just needs to be reminded of “it” sometimes.

I do understand the inkling in your heart to want your son to grow up a manly man. I remember the teasing the girly boys endured throughout school when I was growing up. I don’t want that either. But what I am striving for is equality. It is important to me that my son see successful male and female role models in the world. I want him to grow up sensitive to his wife, his daughters, his female coworkers. And maybe, just maybe, watching The Little Mermaid and eating off his Hello Kitty placemat will give him a leg up in understanding women that they boy down the street doesn’t have!

I'm not a freak!

Or at least I don't immediately come off as the freak I am at heart!

I was interviewed this morning for the social styles class. I walked in and there were two people I know fairly well in the class, one of who knows my social style since I talk to his wife routinely. The other person I knew well was a woman in my group and who is in my book club. The instructors asked that anyone who knows my style to just "play along".

I had a great time. The questions were hard and had a lot of thought put into them. Many multiple choice questions that really backed me into a corner and very nearly bordered on "well why don't you just ask me outright what my style is". But that was good too...

There were about 30 people in the class I estimate and about 5 labeled me as "Analytical" after the interview. The rest - including the one woman I knew from my group and book club, put me as "Amiable"!

Truth be told I don't think I was very surprised. I know I come off easily more as "Ask" and not "Tell". So the fact that no one put me as "Driver" or "Expressive" was not a surprise. The fact that the class waffled on me being "Task" or "People" thrilled me. Maybe I do have some people skills after all!

Whinefest

I only wish it was a winefest… and if I wasn’t pregnant, it probably would have been!

Leif was sent home from daycare Thursday mid-afternoon with diarrhea. Oftentimes I think that daycare is a little overeager to send them home. I have had more than one experience where I get my “sick” kid home and he isn’t sick at all. This time I think they erred the other way and I was wishing they would have called sooner – and not just because I was craving a day at home. Although it did mean it was one nap I didn’t have to put Leif down for, which lately is a VERY good thing.

He remained home on Friday, recovering and preparing his little body to be invaded by a nasty cold virus that arrived on Saturday morning. Oh and don’t think any of this was spared on the pregnant woman in the house either! I can fully explain why Leif was crying “nose hurts” much of the weekend. Because wow does my nose hurt!

Only a few things put a smile on my little boys face this weekend. One of them was swimming lessons on Saturday. Yeah, I debated keeping him home, but it is one of the things he really looks forward to and loves and I really hoped it would pull him out of his funk. I think he is progressing pretty well there since we have switched clubs. Plus, the water is chlorinated to deactivate the cold virus and hopefully make transmission less likely.

The other thing that put a smile on Leif’s face this weekend was the $7 harmonica I picked up at Target. Leif has an obsession lately with making everything he can find into a flute. The favorite is the spring loaded toilet paper roller holders. He holds the side up to his lips and humms as he pushes the spring part in and out. Seriously weird child, I know. Oh and the fun doesn’t stop there. Since we have TWO bathrooms, we have TWO TP roll holders, which means one for Leif and one for Mommy. I can proudly say my toilet paper roll holders are back holding TP now that the harmonica has entered our house. Leif is obsessed with it. He has played “the flute” for everyone we talked to this weekend both on the phone and on webcam.

There isn’t much else pleasant to report about Leif this weekend. Daycare drop off this morning was a bitch as he sobbed and sobbed. His teacher promised me she would call if he didn’t improve after TumbleBus and she didn’t call. Leif is normally the kid that can’t wait to leap away from me upon arriving. So this behavior this morning was disturbing and indicative of how he was feeling. Turns out though that he had a very good day all in all at daycare, ate all his lunch including sharing a teeny tiny bit of pumpkin bread with his teacher. (He could have shared more, I made 4 mini loaves, one large loaf and 24 muffins this weekend.) She told me he raved and raved so much about it and then broke off a tiny little corner for her to “try it”. Honestly, I was more surprised when his teacher told me she ate it and it was really good.

AB and I had some discussions this weekend both about current issues at hand – one being what to name this baby. I had thought we had very nearly agreed on a boys name, but apparently not, as AB was back to the drawing board. For girls we have our same three contestants vying for favorite status from us both. I am positive that naming this baby is going to be (like Leif was) a question up until he/she arrives.

Another one we actually came to a conclusion on is Leif’s new bedroom design. It has to be cool enough to entice him over from the nursery – since I don’t think he is old enough to realize the obvious advantages of having “the bigger room” with a much coveted walk in closet. We are going to do a sage green on the bottom, cream on the top and I am planning on painting an elephant on one wall, a giraffe on another and a tree in the corner. Ambitious to say the least. AB is going to paint the room in green and cream this coming weekend and I plan to tackle the two animals and tree next Monday and Tuesday. Where I balked at a mural for the nursery, I am actually chomping at the bit to get my hands dirty and test my skills at painting these walls. I am a creative person at heart and haven’t had many outlets for this recently.

And to end this post in a serious upnote and not the whinefest it started out as, I just have to sing praise for long skirts and knee socks, particularly while pregnant. I have always loved long skirts. Tights are normally a hit with me, but not while pregnant unless I really want to find the crotch at my knees. They will not stay up. Serious waste of money. Then I re-discovered knee socks at Target the other day. I am in love. I haven’t worn knee socks since I was probably 8 years old. I had to order another skirt on Friday simply to go along with the second pair of knee socks I bought.

Finally! The truth shall be revealed!

Will I get mine this month? I balked and balked two years ago when I was classified as Analytical Analytical. For those of you unfamiliar with social styles that is the far end of the spectrum for being anal, unfriendly and quiet. Or so the critics say, supposedly there are good qualities too. I have always known I am Analytical, but the subcategory adding the second A has bugged the crap out of me for two years now. I am not *that* bad, am I? Not *that* extreme, I can’t be! My friends tell me I am not, but they could just be humoring me and rolling their eyes behind my back! I want to know how I really come off to people.

I will get to find out for sure, twice this month! The coordinator for the class e-mailed me and asked if I would have time to come in to two of the classes being offered this month to play the role of “Guess my style”. She commented that she thought I would be a great case to examine. Is this because I am so extreme (supposedly) or is it because of my versatility and that I hide my double A’s? Is her goal to trick people or show them a case study? I need information!! (Letting my double A’s shine through for a second…)

The classes will get to interview me and then peg me where they think I belong. So I am either going to get confirmation that I just truly see myself differently then the people I am around, or I am going to get my “ha” moment and maybe a few people will see me (in their short time interviewing me) as something not so extreme (and offensive).

Volunteering

I have frequently sought out opportunities to volunteer, to give back to my community, to offer something to someone who could use it. With as busy as we often are, a lot of my charity comes in the form of monetary donations. But when I find the right opportunity, I jump on it whole heartedly.

I was a junior volunteer (yes, candy striper in my red and white striped uniform) at the local hospital when I was in high school for about a year. I actually didn’t particularly enjoy it because I wanted to interact with patients and help the doctors. Ha ha ha! My tasks frequently included photocopying and collating. The senior candy stripers were the ones who got to deliver flowers to the rooms. Suck ups.

In grad school I volunteered regularly as a science fair judge. I LOVED this task and jumped at every opportunity. I particularly loved judging at a few of the lower income schools because the projects I saw were truly the kids work and ideas most often. Although the mold and volcanoes were just an exercise in nastiness and overperformed demonstrations I could really do without and usually garnered an “average” rating. (Although we never issued “below average”.) I was once invited to judge at a private junior high and my eyes were opened. What 12 year old knows what a chi squared analysis is? And what 7th grader actually was able to apply radiation through the use of x-ray machines on a daily basis to plants? And what about the well designed experiment to drop 100 wine glasses packed in a variety of packing materials from the top of the university parking garage. Thoroughly well designed project… that parent should really be working in quality assurance for glassware companies… if they aren’t already. Yes, many were obviously parent projects, but I hoped that instead of the parents doing the projects that these kids were benefiting from spending time with their parents engaged in a project. I will say it again, I loved judging science fairs and seeking out the truly unique thought that some kids put into their projects.

When we first moved to this area I decided I would find an organization to volunteer with. I picked Special Olympics for no reason other than it sounded like a neat organization to volunteer with and I was fairly active and could serve as a coach (ideally). I went through the State Trooper investigation, was deemed appropriate to work with children and went to my first volunteer event, a 5K run. Being a runner, I was excited to help. I was never so appalled with the lack of organization, advertising and general caring of the people involved. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the proceeds raised went directly to line someone’s pockets. I was called once again to help with a bowling tournament, declined and never heard from them again. No love lost there.

An opportunity recently crossed my desk to serve as an e-mail mentor to a junior high girl through an organization devised and funded by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. It is an after school club designed to give kids that wouldn’t normally have access to science and technology in their everyday lives (kids without computers and/or internet) exposure to science and technology as well as time each week on a computer and on the internet. To go along with this each girl will be paired with an e-mail mentor working in the field to chat about whatever really. Schools are selected to have clubs, the clubs are amazingly well funded, and the participants are low income, minority dominant schools. This sounded like the ideal opportunity for me to volunteer as an e-mail mentor.

Once again I passed the State Trooper investigation, then went to a four hour training class for the program where I learned a lot about the program, but found that I was mostly being preached to about racial tolerances and sensitivities. Something I thought I never really had a problem with personally. The fact that I work in national security was balked at a little by the organizers (hey, they accepted my application) because they worried that my student might be reluctant to talk to me out of fear I would have her family deported as this is a common concern among these kids. (Truly I have absolutely NO authority in this area.) Still I stuck with it.

The program has very nearly landed in my box of “what a load of crap this is”. Really this should be a great organization. It is heavily funded. The things these kids get to do would make most college professors jealous. The administrators of the program are paid and not volunteers. Still it is run like the blind leading the blind. They are at least a month late in matching the students up with mentors. The kick off event is scheduled for 4 hours on the Saturday before Thanksgiving at a site significantly out of town. (This is 8 hours of donated time for something touted to take “just a few minutes a week” of your time in e-mailing.) I am supposed to RSVP by tomorrow, yet still don’t know if I will even HAVE a student and supposedly many students will likely not be able to attend.

I feel like a huge dolt saying to the organizers if my student (providing I have one by then) can make it, I will be there. Otherwise no, I am not donating half my Saturday before my holiday. I ran the logistics by AB last night and his immediate response was to simply decline the invitation to go. Still I hate doing this. I would hate to think that a junior high girl and her family head out of town to the kick off and her mentor isn’t even there.

I am waffling in my RSVP response to send tomorrow. Either a waffling “yes, I will attend, but only if my student is attending so get your asses in gear, assign me a student and let me know her RSVP status” or “no, I will not be able to attend the kick-off”. Ok, so the first one is only what my bitchy pregnant self wants to write… I wouldn’t actually write that.

The big boy bed

AB has finally listened to the voice of reason (mine). Leif’s big boy bed has been purchased and will be ready to be picked up tomorrow. It started, I think, with my venting to AB about how much there is to do in the less than 20 weeks remaining until this baby arrives. Either my venting took hold, or AB saw things his own way (I think a little of both) and he was adamant Sunday about getting out and buying a bed for Leif. We need a permanent solution to his sleeping arrangements.

Here is where I could use some design input. I bought the safari quilt set for Leif from Overstock, should arrive anyday now, and we will be revamping the guest room for him over the next few weeks or months. AB is leaning towards a somewhat neutral orange background (not orange! like my kitchen, orange as in orange) for the walls to match the quilt and then I can paint safari animals on the wall. (Don’t laugh. I started college as an art and biology major. Painting is not my media of choice, but I am not half bad either.) I might be leaning a little more towards a two toned (light orange and light sage green) painted walls with no animals, but part of me likes the mural idea. I know Leif will LOVE it. It is just the time factor… but then again in 2 weeks I am taking a full week off and will hopefully have time to paint (and do the quilt...). I just need to have the room prepped by then. I need to nail down the design.

I have placed an ad on my companies classified ads site looking for a chest of drawers or dresser that I can strip and paint either for the nursery (if we move the already painted safari themed dresser into Leif’s room) or if it I find a nice quality dresser (where the drawers slide freely), we can paint it for his room. If I don’t find anything suitable for him I think a trip to the unfinished wood furniture store will be on order.

I had planned on Leif having substantial input on his bedroom design, but so far he has no opinions. And given the fact that he chose a Hello Kitty placemat the other day at Target over all the others (all the while AB was encouraging him towards Superman), I think AB has more willingly given up on Leif selecting his own theme. I need ideas, preferably inexpensive ones. Help anyone?

Attempting Halloween pictures again

I have tried this a few times both from home and from work. (shh!) I will try once more and hopefully they will post this time.

What's in your cellar?

I am taking a page from Andy’s Wine Press Northwest blog. I really enjoyed reading about what is in his (very impressive) cellar. I have seen it and also been very happy there is a door on it as my toddler runs back to their cellar room at 40 mph.

Our cellar is a stack of styrofoam lined boxes with inserts for wine bottles. We put the bottles in upside down and hope that the styrofoam saves the wine from serious temperature fluctuations. Our house is heated and air conditioned, the wines should (in theory) be maintained at 70F, which is warm for a cellar. But then again I don’t collect wines as trophies or with the hopes of resale. We collect the wines we like to drink and also to experiment – will this very tannic $10 red age well? If it doesn’t, well then it was a $10 experiment. We are scientists you know.

This storage method isn’t very conducive to showing off our wines. Truthfully? It is a pain in the rear to access. A series of boxes stacked in the guest room unlabelled… bet my guests never knew they were sleeping with their heads two feet from our wine collection. Or maybe the reason they all sleep so well at my house should be further investigated... But this method also keeps us from delving into our “savers” too often and is also toddler proof.

AB and I started collecting wine while we lived in Reno and had an easy three hour drive to Napa and Sonoma where we learned about wine and acquired the taste. Our goal was to always buy at least two, if not three of a wine we liked. One to have now, one to put away. Occasionally when we felt rich we would buy a case, but that means our “cellar” is a lot of single bottles (because we so rarely “felt rich”). I was a graduate student after all.

AB and I are mostly red wine fans. We like big, bold red wines, particularly Zinfandel (which you rarely find up here in Washington), Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc and well crafted Meritages (someday I will rhyme it with heritage…) or other red blends.

Our “collection” started with the 1996 Franciscan Magnificat from Napa Valley. It was a wonderful California Meritage that we collected through the 1999, or maybe 2000 vintage. It dropped off our radar after moving to Washington but we still have a few bottles of each vintage. I did pick up a few bottles of it at Costco here early this past year and was honestly unimpressed. In fact, I am not sure we even put the other bottle in our collection.

One of our next collector wines was one of Ravenswood appellation specific zins. We became huge Ravenswood fans while in Reno and still are. It is one of the few Calfornia wines we still purchase regularly. We served many of their wines at our wedding when they gave us such stellar deals at the winery. (No joke, this is the single friendliest winery ever.) We used to say that it was our house wine. We bought a case of 1997, put it away and over the last eight or so years have consumed that case. We were highly impressed with how this $12 wine changed over the years. Our last bottle met an untimely demise about 8 months ago. I had brought the bottle out for a steak dinner, AB decided the meal wasn’t really worthy of our last bottle and so instead of putting it back in the “cellar”, I stuck it in our wine rack. About a week later when we decided to open a bottle with pizza I grabbed it, mistaking it for one of the Ravenswood vintners blend zins from Costco and popped the sucker open. (Envision squeals of “it was an accident” a la Phantom of the Opera.) Yes, our bottle that wasn’t worthy of the steak dinner was to be paired with a Hawaiian pizza from Pizza Hut.

So the above paragraph fits into the category of “what isn’t in my cellar”. Back to the topic at hand of what IS in my wine cellar... right now, 40 bottles.

A few California hold-outs remain in our cellar. Specifically a few zinfandels from the Sierra Foothills. Perry Creek zin is one of my favorites, ZinMan. And I probably really just like it because my dad’s name is Perry.

Our “cellar” since moving to Washington has been not surprisingly dominated by Pacific Northwest wines. Mostly Columbia Valley wines with a few appellation specific and a number of individual bottles of Walla Walla wines. I am not a student any longer and I still can’t afford more than single bottles of the wines from that region we like. Among wines from this region we have eight Meritages, seven Syrahs, and five Cabernet Sauvignons. The remainders are miscellaneous varietals such as Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Chardonney, a few sparklers, a few Rieslings, a Gewurztraminer, and an Ehrenfelser. And even more amazing to me is that every single one of these wines is from a different winery, many are very small, little known places.

Last there is a bottle of 1995 Prager Royal Escort Port that we purchased before we married. This was a fabulous port that AB and I nearly broke the bank in purchasing back about 1998 at $50 a bottle. We swore we would open it at our wedding. Then we swore we would open it when our first child was born. Wow, if it wasn’t opened for either of those events when will it be opened? Our biggest problem with opening it has been that it isn’t a half bottle. It is a full 750 mL. And while I know that port keeps longer than wine, we need more people to indulge in it with us. Well guess what… we are now surrounded by wine loving and appreciating friends. I think its days are numbered. At minimum, of course, it has at least 19 more weeks of life to enjoy.

Leif Update

Leif is now 27 months old and wow is he busy! He is such a fun kid to be around, 95% of the time. The other 5% of the time he can be cranky, naughty or just mischievous. All in all he seems to enjoy life and love interacting with his friends and other people he knows and many he doesn’t know!

Yesterday was Halloween and he was a bug. The bug costume has seen its fair share of wear in the past few weeks. This is great, if we spend the money on it I want him to enjoy it for a substantial amount of time and not just one day. Leif was excited about Halloween, I am sure due in part to my enthusiasm for the holiday. To me, Halloween kicks off the holiday season, a time of year I love. My dad was always a big Halloween junky and my sister and I inherited it from him. I got the love of Halloween, she got the love of Halloween but also of all things gory.

Leif seems to have a little grasp of the concept of Halloween, the costumes, pumpkins, cats, spiders and bats, also trick or treating. We carved his pumpkin to look like a cat face and each night we lit it and he went around shutting off every light in the house (ok AB, even Leif knows where the dining room light is…) so he can stand in front of the lit pumpkin and ooh and aah. All the way in to work on Halloween morning he practiced saying Trick or Treat! When we arrived at daycare we put on his costume and he paraded proudly into his room. You could tell from the fun atmosphere that every child to that point had their few minutes of glory as the other kids analyzed his or her costumes. Leif enjoyed every minute of it as the kids touched his antennae and spare legs and the mylar eyeballs on top of his head. He ate it up.

I figure he probably had to take the costume off shortly after I left as it was quite insulating. It was the costume made for kids like me who grew up in an area where 75% of the time it snowed on Halloween and your costume was always made to fit over a parka. This one is a coat in itself with all the extra padding to make him a very round bug.

I picked him up at the end of the day and we went home and started lighting the candles and put the pumpkin outside. Within minutes kids started showing up at the door. At first this caused a lot of angst, Leif wanted his costume on (I didn’t as we were going to eat dinner) and he wanted to eat candy (again we were going to eat dinner). Meltdowns ensued. Soon though, dinner was finished, he was in his costume and we were off to go trick or treating!

He really did well trick or treating, never actually said “trick or treat” to anyone, we did get a few thank you’s out of him though. Most “trick or treats” came as we were leaving and the doors were well shut.
When we returned home, we only hit about 10 houses, Leif took up the charge in handing out candy. He stood by the window and announced “kids coming!” He would then run to the door, pick up the bucket for candy and meticulously and very carefully hand out a single piece to each kid. He ate up the whole evening!


For the past six days Leif has been holding steady at being about 75% potty trained during the day. This morning Leif was gone for a few minutes while I was doing my hair and AB was in the shower. I went to find him when he didn’t come running when I called. Out he comes out of the bathroom with his pants around his ankles. “I potty mommy,” he tells me. I was skeptical since he already had two successful potties this morning, so I went in and took a look in the toilet. There, before my eyes, was a poopy in the toilet. I just about fell over.

This is fully on his accord and the slacker mom I am hasn’t put him in underwear yet. Frankly I haven’t seen the reason why, other than to quit wasting diapers since after going potty he doesn’t want the used (but not soiled) diaper back on and wants a new diaper. Leif is fully capable of pulling his pants down, removing his diaper and crawling up onto the toilet by himself. I am pleased that so far he is learning to go to the potty based off him recognizing the desire to go.

I really would like to have him potty trained by Christmas break, but we will see how things go. No pressure on our part.


The brag book… Leif has nearly mastered counting 1-14 and his A, B, C’s. Nearly in that 5 and 9 are often forgotten. And there is some mumbling in the alphabet song particularly at f-k. He gets a sound in there for each letter but it is more of a grunting noise. He has a few books which we are not allowed to read to him. It isn’t out of dislike for the book, it is because those are his books to read to us. And he does so with gusto! One of his favorite things is to read to relatives on the webcam. He doesn’t care to be read to on the webcam, but delights in sharing his new skill with you. (So if you are one of the relatives that is determined to do this… sorry to break the bad news, but trying to hold him squirming on our laps and encourage his attention to you? Just not working, no offense.)

I have a new found admiration for the daycare teachers. I have been working to teach Leif one of my childhood favorite rhymes, Little Bunny Foo Foo. It is one of the few rhymes I have found that they haven’t beat me too. Anyways, after days and days of singing Little Bunny Foo Foo and doing my best not to giggle when he says “Little Bunny Hoo Hoo”, we still have only mastered the “popping them on the heads” part. Leif knows LOTS of rhymes from school, quite well. This means that those teachers repeat and repeat those songs over and over again. I am so sick of Little Bunny Hoo Hoo (giggles) right now. But I have determination! And a little boy who likes the concept of bonking things on the head. (Maybe this is why they don’t teach it at daycare?)

Every morning when we go to the car he has a small meltdown. “I drive!” he tells us. My poor child doesn’t realize it is at least 14 years until he can have that privilege. A special treat is to go out to the car and let him sit in the driver’s seat.

Sewing, a dying art?

I sew. Not much anymore because of time constraints, but I can tackle reasonably difficult patterns and given time can make nearly anything I want to with fabric. I hate sewing clothes because everything I make turns out looking like I should be on Little House on the Prairie. And nothing really fits “right”. Yet, everytime I go to the fabric store I have to flip through the pattern books to see if there is anything I should try. Oh my goodness, have you seen the baby patterns? To die for. But there are two limitations to that for me, my time, and fabric is fricking expensive. I am a really good quilter, just wish I loved doing it more. I like quilting and I like the result, but it probably falls as #3 on my list of crafts I like to do in my spare time, should I ever be blessed with spare time. First would be cross stitching, as I mentioned the other day. Second would be pottery, but since I don’t have a wheel, or a kiln… So quilting is up there on the list.

I went to the fabric store yesterday to pick out fabric for the new baby’s quilt. I usually frequent Hancock fabrics out of preference. The larger chain store I find to be a thorough mess and I can never find anything, and it is always a madhouse. I know at Hancock I can walk in, browse by myself, see things organized and get help when needed. One thing I have noticed however, with this store, is the age of the staff and customers. I usually feel as though I am the youngest be a number of decades.

While I browsed fabric one of the sales associates came over to chat. She asked how long I had been sewing (a common question I get there mostly because of the age of the sales staff I think. I think I am an anomaly there.) I told her that I have sewed since I can remember.

No joke. When I was a kid, my mom made all of my sisters and my clothes. I used the scraps to make doll clothes and can remember at a very young age sitting at my mom’s sewing machine using it. Hot summer afternoons were often spent in the fabric store where my mom would sit at the big tables of fall pattern books and select pattern after pattern for my sister and I. Then she would buy the fabric, sometimes even with our input. The remainder of the summer was spent sewing clothes for us. She used to sew these tags in the backs of our clothes that said, “Made especially for you by *her name*”, which as I got older used to embarrass the crap out of me, despite the fact they were on the INSIDE of my clothes.

I think back to how much time my mom put into this, and how, as I got older, unappreciative and even embarrassed by this I was. My mom made us gorgeous clothes. As time went on, eventually she quit sewing so much for us. And I was thankful when we could go to the new indoor mall and buy cool clothes instead.

I loved Home Ec in junior high – do they still even teach Home Ec? It was girls only and we learned sewing and cooking. In both subjects I was always a number of steps ahead of my peers. I usually surprised my teachers with my sewing skills. I did sew a little through high school, usually with Vargas Girl in modifying our dresses for dances like Boosters so that they were a little unique. In college I went with a hippy guy who thought it was cool to make your own clothes and so I attempted some that made me viable as an extra on Little House on the Prairie.

When I moved to Reno from Colorado one day it dawned on me. I no longer had a sewing machine. I had always used my moms! How could I survive without a sewing machine? Within about 6 months I bought myself a lower end Viking that has served me well for the last 10 years. When the day came that I had a nicer machine than my mom, she realized that her machine she had since I was baby might just be bordering on obsolete and she went and bought a top of the line Viking with all the bells and whistles. (*jealous*)

I started quilting in grad school and used to make a few quilts a year. Just before Leif was born I made him a quilt (which he uses pretty much only as a pad to lay on, or puts Cookie Monster to sleep under it). That was the last quilt I made, despite AB’s suggestions that I finish the huge queen sized quilt that I have all cut out and placed neatly in a drawer. Unfortunately it isn’t from lack of motivation to finish it… I probably spent $80 on the fabric, it is the presence of a toddler in the house. The sewing machine would be an awfully cool toy. Fabric laying out on the ground to be cut? Yeah I remember how fun that was with my little sister. The hot iron on nearly all the time to press the seams? Not a hobby conducive to raising a toddler!

My mom has just started quilting and often seeks advice. I smile as I see her in that obsessive quilting phase that I entered ten years ago. Where I bought a quarter of a yard of any unique fabric I liked, where I had more patterns then time and where my iron was nearly always on. Her enthusiasm motivates me again. Which is good since I need to make this quilt for baby number two! Thanks to her, at least in the quilt realm, the second child will not get the shaft!

Patience

I am, by far and away, not a hugely patient person. AB has to sing “The Patience Song” to me on occasion, and is usually met by seething glares in response. Most recently, yesterday. What usually gets me is driving. Namely people being nice while driving. Weird huh? Stick with me for a second. A good friend of ours from Alaska, his dad was the chief of police (I believe). I have only met the dad in person a few times, he really kind of scares me (AB laughs when I say this). But I remember one thing he said to us regarding traffic accidents, that the vast majority of them are caused by people being nice. Stopping and waving people across only for the car to be hit from the other direction because the person didn’t look, or the person being nice being rear-ended because someone behind them didn’t expect them to be stopped. Things like that. So when I see that happening (and in my town people are way too nice) it drives me bonkers. Hence my meltdown yesterday when the cowboy in the Target parking lot felt the need to let 10 cars through. Oh and not to mention it is rude to those behind who have been waiting and waiting to get where they are going.

I digressed. My patience is in the mid-range level. I am not a hot head, but I am also not a pushover.

Today I went to Safeway to get a sandwich for lunch and pick up a few greeting cards. Oh and a chocolate donut that was beckoning me. I was checking out of the Express lane and I was owed a free sandwich coupon since my Club card showed me as purchasing 6 sandwiches. The checker didn’t have one on hand and so he called over to the manager to get one and they went scrambling.

The checker wasn’t gone five seconds when the woman behind me started proclaiming, loudly, about having to wait. I was shocked and a little taken aback. There was no employee to hear her proclamations and so I assume they were directed to me. I turned to her and said, “I am sorry you have to wait, but I am not leaving without my free sandwich coupon.” The woman doesn’t even look at me, but continues huffing and puffing and steaming and snorting about her valuable time. Then the woman behind her actually says, “ma’am you need to calm down a bit, he will be back in 30 seconds”.

The woman actually speaks to her then and says, “well I have changed lines twice already trying to get out of here”. Woman #2 and I shrug our shoulders. That just happens sometimes.

Cranky old biddy starts scooping up her items since she has now had it, after nearly 90 seconds. She drops things, she cusses, she gets her items over to the other belt where she is now 3rd in line there, just as our checker steps back into his station with my coupon. I thank him and smile at the woman who is now next. She says, “hey no skin off my nose, I get out of here faster now”. I look over to the cranky biddy with a steaming red face in the other Express aisle making sure she sees me leave, well before she is even “next” in line.

“Have patience, have patience, don’t be in such a hurry…”

Some sad news

One of the lab fellows who was in my division here at the lab has died. Ron was the owner of a local winery and quite a personality. I actually didn't know him well personally myself as our research interests didn't often collide.

It comes as such a shock still. He died of heart complications while on travel yesterday. Even though I didn't know him well, it is still a shock. Very weird.

Playing hookey

Yesterday and today AB worked the backroom at a regional wine judging. There were wine judges from around the US there for this judging of regional wines from Washington, Oregon, Idaho and our buddies to the North: Western Canada. Yesterday was a hectic day and AB came home with a sore back and a tired brain. I mentioned in passing that if tomorrow was as bad that I could take the afternoon off from work and come help, I didn't have anything on my schedule.

I talked with V who also had worked the backroom at the judging the day before and she commented on how hectic it was as well. We agreed that I would go in for the afternoon with her and assist where I could. I had never done this type of thing before and so my goal was to simply be a go to person who could be ordered around, though I wouldn't be hauling cases around being that I am pregnant. I looked forward to the afternoon.

At 11:30am I skipped out of work and locked my door behind me. V picked me up at home and off we went. I had a little idea what to expect because V and her husband have been working these judgings for a few years now and we had heard about how they worked, as well as reeped some of the benefits of the judgings in the form of opened bottles that would otherwise go to waste. AB and I loved this as it gave us the opportunity to taste many wines we normally wouldn't in manners we normally don't. For a single varietal (grape such as sangiovese or chardonney) judging, having the opportunity to taste 10-12 wines of the same varietal at once is a very eye opening experience. Who knew 12 cabernet sauvignons would taste so incredibly different. Other things we tried were blind tastings where we tasted all the wines and then one of us would repour a select wine and see if we could identify them. I couldn't even with my notes.

This afternoon I learned how meticulous the judgings are run. There is lots of prep work ahead of time, sorting the wines by varietal, numbering them, there are two bottles of each wine to be judged, cross referencing them (as the tastings are blind), then everything hauled to the site of the judging. Oh and the glasses! I have never SEEN so many wine glasses! Then comes the work of the back room volunteers, glasses are labeled, red wines are decanted twice (once into a pitcher and then back into the bottle), then they are poured (50 mL) into each glass. They can sit around for awhile, but all should sit around the same length of time.

The whites, otoh, cannot sit around and timing is key with them. Since they are served chilled, not cold (unless it is ice wine), judging white wines while also judging red wines, as in today's judging, can really throw a monkey wrench into things. Timing becomes critical.

After the wine is poured then it is served to the judges. I have never worked in any type of food service and so this too was new to me. Walking out of one room with 16 glasses of wine on a tray and into another, balancing it and putting it down and presenting the wines in order to the judge is no small feat.

When a flight is done the glasses are emptied (the judges all spit and do not swallow the wine), labels removed from the glasses, glasses returned to the dishwashing area for them to be cleaned to continue through a total of 260 wines. 260 wines, 5 professional judges, 5 amateur judges (more on that later), and a moderator, I'll do the math... a potential for 2860 glasses of wine over two days.

Still think you want to be a wine judge? Yeah, I did too until a few years ago. I remember thinking what a cush job wine judges had, sit around and drink all day and write about it. Oh yeah, not to mention all the free wine you get for drinking when you aren't judging. What could be better? I decided awhile back that I like being a consumer, I like drinking my wine and not spitting, I like coming up with adjectives to describe wine only when I feel like it. Upon request I would write "cherry" so many times I would no longer be able to describe it. And there are also just wines I am not overly fond of.

But regardless there are oodles of wine lovers out there eager to have their day to play wine judge, and so the amateur, consumer panel came to be. A few readers of Wine Press Northwest were invited to submit essays for competition. Then those few winners were given the opportunity to come to the region, at their expense and be a judge for two days. A dream opportunity for many.

Me? I will just work in the backroom and when I hear which wines scored the highest, stroll over to that bottle for a taste. Ok, that would be the not pregnant me. The pregnant me just smelled the winners and made a mental note.

I had a really good time today and learned a ton. This afternoon was not nearly so hectic as the previous day and so I was able to ask questions and take my time. I smelled cork taint (wet newspaper) for the first time. Ok, so I have probably smelled and tasted it before and had no idea what it was. If 3% of wines have cork taint, well then I have drank many, many cork tainted bottles.

The professional judges were kind and courteous and friendly. Both AB and I, didn't get the same feeling out of the consumer panel. Our conclusion is that to them, I am not a scientist who took some vacation time to come take the opportunity to "volunteer" my time with absolutely no food service experience. Our feelings were that to the consumer panel, we were the wait staff. On the flip side, the judges knew exactly what hard work it takes to pull off a judging and be timely with everything. They know we are volunteers and there simply for our sheer love of wine, to learn and to support our friends when possible.

I am not sure I have worked so hard, yet had so much fun and learned so much in a single afternoon of playing hookey!

Long live the grape!

Thirteen years ago

Thirteen years ago I went to a CU football game with my physical chemistry lab partner. I didn’t care much about the football game, even though I had season tickets. I had been flirting with my lab partner since we were just a few weeks into lab. Oblivious, he was. Finally after complaining to him I didn’t have anyone to go to the game with, he said I could sit with he and his engineering buddies. During that next week, after working on our lab report together we went to the Dark Horse for a beer. A kiss that night. The next week he invited me to go see Miss Saigon and I realized the jackpot I had hit. A man that would take me to a musical!

Thirteen years later and we have a toddler and our second baby on the way. Wow have things changed, our college team went from being top college contenders where we enthusiastically threw oranges onto the field to well… they suck and for the first time in many many years is most likely not eligible for a bowl game. 13 years comes and goes with many changes. But I can’t imagine my life with anyone else! I love you AB! Happy thirteen years!

Leif hiding

In my previous life

As a pregnant woman, my nightly dreams have become even more vivid and wacky. For those of you who know me personally, this is probably a frightening thought! I am already a very vivid dreamer, but add in pregnancy and we are in for a whirl. During the month before my wedding, VargasGirl (who has equally as wacky and vivid dreams as I do) and I shared daily e-mail accounts of our dreams regarding my wedding. I still giggle at her dream of my mom as an Amazon woman in a pink gingham dress.

Last week I had a dream about my time working in the dermatology clinic where I worked as the Mohs surgery histotech (a method for removing skin cancer) for five years. Three of those years part time while I was an undergrad – I did a job share with a woman who had toddlers and wanted the flexibility to go home to her kids at 3pm on the four days a week we worked and have summers off. It worked great. I had a good paying job through college, she worked a flexible schedule. When I graduated from college she quit and became a SAHM and eventually moved to California and I worked full time in the position for two years until I could deal with it no longer and knew a change had to be made in my life.

I loved that job in many ways. I also hated that job in many ways. Everyone has that job that defines them as an employee I believe, this was mine. I had a tremendous amount of responsibility, patients respected me, I came out of my shyness shell a significant amount and I really learned how to interact with people and console them – a trait that aside from my own son, doesn’t come natural to me. I gained experience in running my own (albeit small) lab as well. The downside came in working in a doctor’s office with three physicians and their all female support staff. There was as much bickering and hormones flying in that office as my freshman dorm. As hard as I find it sometimes to work in a male dominated field, it doesn’t hold a candle to that office.

I worked for a super doctor, in more ways than one. He was a Super Doctor in that he was sent all the hard cases and had incredible skin cancer cure rates, I saw more wacky stuff working for him than I ever hope to see in the rest of my life. I also met many local and even a few national level celebrities who were referred to him. He was super towards me to give me all his confidence in my abilities and sought to teach me everything he knew. Still today I believe my knowledge of dermatology and skin cancer probably surpasses many new practicing dermatologists. We spent lots of time together at work, often working until 11pm, we routinely lunched together and he treated me like his daughter. He had hopes and dreams for me (going to medical school at the University where he taught part time) and he was good to me and offered me lots of flexibility in my job. I adored his family and often babysat his three kids when he and his wife would vacation.

When I graduated college he held a twinge of disappointment (I am nearly positive) that I decided to go on working for him full time and had switched from talking about med school to talking about grad school. Our friendship changed somewhere along those lines during those last two years. I think it was my being there full time, him seeing lots more potential for me and my getting a much closer look at him as a shrewd (but very savvy) business manager and finding out later on how incredibly cheated I was on my salary. The mentor/mentee phase was over and I was now just his employee. AB still wrinkles his nose and talks about how much he hated the man when my time working for Dr. Stinkbug comes up in conversation. AB was of the opinion that when things started going sour with him I should have told him to take a hike and left him in a huge bind to scramble for a new histotech. Maybe I should have, but it was never and still wouldn’t be in my nature to do that to him. He was and I am sure still is, a good man.

When I dream about work, I dream about that place. I have never once dreamt about washing animal cages in the tox lab I worked at in high school, or the lab and university I worked in through grad school, and rarely do I dream about my current job. (Yes, there is my extensive resume.) Yet once a month or so, come rain or shine, I dream about cutting slides, assisting in cutting on people’s faces and stitching, running from room to room and consoling patients, making an effort to reassure them that their faces will recover. (Side note, please wear sunscreen.) I would dream that my slides are perfect, I dream of the stress and I dream of Dr. Stinkbug barking orders at me.

Surprisingly my dream last week was vastly different then previous dreams. I dreamt I was in Colorado visiting my mom, Dr. S found out and asked me to come in and cut slides for him one day. I tried to decline but finally went in. He introduced me with huge pride in his face to everyone in the office and then, with Leif in tow, I went back to my lab and tried to work. But instead of cranking out perfect slides, I couldn’t cut them. I was plowing through chunks of embedding medium and skin in the quest for the perfect thin slide that encompassed the entire length of the dermis and into the fat layer. I could not do it. Leif was being patient for Leif, but still he didn’t want to be there. The Petri dishes were stacking up and patients were waiting for their results. I could not get a slide made. I had forgotten how.

This is something that I have told AB I will never forget how to do, I will never forget how to cut frozen sections. The other night in my dream I had forgotten. Dr. S came over to me and instead of his face turning beet red as he yelled, he patted me on the shoulder as he looked into the cryostat at the mess in there and said, “it’s ok, you don’t need to do this”. And I picked up my son and left.

The dream was immensely satisfying to me. I don’t know if it marked the end of my being plagued with dreams of working in that place (even after 10 years of absence), or if it was just the mental acknowledgement I got from Dr. S (or really myself since it was my dream) that the stress is gone and I don’t need to plague myself with it anymore. I don’t know why the dream was so satisfying to me, but it was.

A sign it was time

This morning AB was getting Leif ready. He switched off the TV, which is unusual. I asked him what was up fearing something was on the news that was scary and/or not appropriate for Leif.

AB: "Oh it's a new episode of Little Einsteins this morning and I don't want to spoil it for Leif."

NM: "Thank goodness you got a job, you apparently really needed one."

Getting old sucks

Not me for once. Well yes, I am getting older, but I am not *that* old.

I got an e-mail this morning from my mom. Her message was to tell me that my nearly 84 year old grandmother was in a car accident and totaled her car. She is fine as is the other party. Yes, my grandmother is still driving. This is, however, her second accident in one year. Both of which she swears were not her fault.

My cousin was the one who called my mom. She was at work, her police officer husband at home sleeping since he was working nights. He got a call from his buddy telling him that my grandmother had an accident and will need someone to take her home from the ER. My grandmother was not the one to call anyone.

My cousin shows up at the ER with my grandmother wondering how she found out. (Duh.) Cousin tells her she is here to take her home and my grandmother asks her instead of taking her home, drop her at a car rental place so she can get a car. She can’t live without one. My cousin called my mom who told her to take her home and tell her to rest, then my mom calls her to talk.

Wow it sucks watching your loved ones age. When my grandmother visited in June of this past year I was shocked to see how little she was. When I was a kid she was 5’2”. She seemed almost proud that she is 4’8” now and everyone comments on how tiny she is. Her mind is sharp and she still kicks our butts (sometimes without cheating) at games. She doesn’t see herself in the mirror. She is tiny except for that 4” hump on her back. How can my strong Swedish grandmother be aging like this?

Par for the course when my mom called her later this morning the first thing she asked was, “how did you find out?” My mom scolded her for the fact that she had to find out from my cousin, who thankfully called her immediately. It sounds as though the conversation was a difficult one trying to keep my grandmother on track with discussing the accident and potentially her need to move out of her house and not her ailing dog.

Because this is her second accident in a year and due to her age she will be undergoing an assessment through the police department to see if she can retain her license. Despite the fact that she was ticketed she evidently had plenty to say about the other guy in the accident, he ran a red light and was speeding she said. It does no good for her to lie because my cousin’s husband will be getting a copy of the police report tonight when he goes on duty to find out exactly what happened. How bad is it that none of us believe her version?

Sadly I have to admit that about the best thing that could happen in this situation is that she lose her license. It will create a lot of scrambling on our part to get her moved into town to an apartment where there is public transit, teaching her how to use the bus system, and then booking her on buses to spend the holidays with family. But the costs of not doing these things and letting her continue to drive are far more costly.

Some Leif funnies

I need something to cheer me up today. I have raging hormones that have turned me into a big pile of negativity spewing pooey (see the Nuclear Mom's Second Pregnancy blog in the side column).

Toddler OCD, a real phenomena
Leif and I have been working hard on looking for cars when we cross the street to get the mail. I ask him if there are cars coming, he looks and often points out the parked cars on our street, then when I reassure him they aren’t moving we agree we can go.

I can now rest assured that I have properly conveyed to him the necessity of looking both ways for cars based off my experience in driving to work this morning. Every time we stopped at an intersection Leif would YELL from the back seat, “CARS COMING MOMMY, DON’T GO!” Of course being a toddler and OCD just comes natural to toddlers he can’t just tell me once at each intersection. Oh no, no less than 23 times at each intersection was acceptable.

How to wake daddy according to Leif:

"DADDY, wake up!" screamed multiple times.

AB groggily rolls over with eyes open.

Apparently this has not been a success since he isn't up and out of bed immediately. Leif gets onto the bed.

"Put your blankey away Daddy! Put your blankey away!" Leif says as he peels the covers off AB leaving him exposed.

---------------------------

I am thinking it might be time to start thinking about moving Leif out of his crib. We had planned on keeping him in it until after the baby came, then making a big deal out of a NEW room and moving him then. Some people have agreed with this tactic, others disagreed. I think it is all in how it is approached.

However, the past two of three nights Leif has not been interested in going to bed in his crib. In fact, tonight he asked to sleep on the floor. Ok, once in the crib, he cried to sleep on the floor. I pulled him out, he layed his head on his pillow on the floor, asked for his blankey and told me goodnight.

And he was out. I am thinking this weekend we may pull the crib mattress out and put it on the floor and let him start by sleeping on that. Depending on how that goes we might consider a move sooner than anticipated to a new big boy room and turn the nursery into the temporary guest room, maybe over Thanksgiving?

Reclaiming my house

This weekend I was amazingly successful at reclaiming my house from the clutter and dirt that had taken over. I cleaned the master suite and started laundry Saturday. Sunday I focused on the formal dining room (Leif’s playroom) and the library. I dusted and vacuumed, Leif helped. When I pulled the vacuum cleaner out he retrieved his little vacuum and followed meticulously in my steps matching the length and time of each stroke. He helped me pick up his GeoTracks. The library I was somewhat successful at, limited mostly by the loads of papers that AB “might” need at some point in his coursework. They are all stacked for him to sort. AB cleaned the living room Sunday while watching the Seahawks game and between the two of us the kitchen was cleaned.

Our west wing went completely neglected save for the accidental mopping of the utility room. Pregnancy brain is real. I was filling the utility room sink up with Oxiclean and hot water when Leif started doing something (I can’t remember what) that he wasn’t supposed to. I went running with every intention of returning to the sink in the utility room. A little while later I heard water splashing, sure enough, scalding hot water all over the floor of the utility room.

One major accomplishment Sunday was achieving dominance over the laundry. It has been months since every piece of laundry has been clean in this house. AND I accomplished this feat with a toddler in underwear!

That last statement implies there was success with the toddler in underwear. Which actually couldn’t be farther from the truth. Truth is I managed to time that last load of laundry to finish about 30 minutes before the next accident. So my house was really just 30 minutes of not a speck of dirty laundry.

Speaking of Leif, I couldn’t have more of a boy’s boy on my hand. Wow. He is just all boy. Lately everything is about being an airplane, flinging ones body through mid-air and wrestling. He has his tender moments too though, like last night when for some reason he insisted on going to bed on the floor instead of his crib. I layed down on the floor with him and he reached over and rubbed my shoulder for a few minutes. When we leave in the mornings there are always a few tears as Leif calls for “just one more piss” from Daddy. If he had his way AB would stand there and give one more kiss all morning. (Ignore the fact that when we get to daycare I have to beg for a hug and kiss as he is running off to get busy with his day.)

Then there is this morning where Leif came into the bedroom while I was getting ready and told me he wanted to “watch baby”. I stuck the VHS tape in the VCR and hit play as we marveled at the in utero baby on the screen. Leif took to pointing out the body parts to me, similarly to how I did for him last Friday, only when I did it, I pointed to the actual body parts. Leif pointed to empty space and would recite “baby’s arm” or at the face and say “look mommy toes!” It melted my heart. Also implied he is not my little all knowing oracle… and maybe, just maybe he says “sister” because it is easier to say and not because he is all knowing.

In other news, my former graduate advisor wrote me this weekend asking me to write a letter in support for him in his nomination for a Graduate Advising Award. I like writing, why then does this task leave me without words? My goal is to create a letter that is brief, poignant and memorable and that conveys how deserving he truly is. All I can come up with is a rambling mess of words and examples of his worthiness. It reads plainly like every other letter of recommendation out there. This is killing me.

The other thing that is killing me is that he told me in his letter that my former labmate, John, got a job teaching at a small State College in Colorado. Slacker John. The one I “promised” (with my fingers crossed) to help him find a job here and then never followed up because I couldn’t stand what my coworkers would think of me if I actually recommended him. He has yet to defend and still has only written one (poorly written) draft of his dissertation done. Ugh. I suppose I should take consolation in the fact that he has a 1 year temporary appointment making probably less than half what I do here. Still I dream of a comfortable job like this, in my home state, preferably with my husband bringing in a good salary… I still sit here shaking my head thinking of John in this position, and just a twinge of jealousy.

In other news from my former advisor I had recently expressed some discontent at how hard of a time I am having weedling myself into surface science projects here, my true calling. When I first took this position he was unimpressed and probably somewhat concerned at my willingness to jump into the nuclear realm. (I was job hungry.) In his recent letter he encouraged me to remain straddling the two worlds given the state of our international relations. This was important for me to hear from him. Like a child that is always looking for a parent’s approval, I seek his approval in my professional life.

Random blogging

Tomorrow is the day during all pregnancies everywhere that we wait for in anticipation. The ultrasound day! We are really looking forward to tomorrow. This pregnancy has had me fairly paranoid about a number of random things, but tomorrow should hopefully put my head to rest and reassure me that we have one healthy baby growing away. We won’t find out the gender because we love torturing our friends and loved ones, but really for the purely selfish reason of relishing that “It’s a (insert gender)” moment at delivery. Another thing to guess about!

Work is plodding along slowly. I finally came to the realization that I need another project to work on and so I set about in working on that yesterday. I e-mailed a handful of people in the area of my expertise asking if there are any openings on their projects for the coming year for a surface / vacuum / materials scientist. So far I have no takers. My former team lead came by to tell me he is in the same boat (great) and to encourage me to go over to the dark side since I have the radiation detection experience. I fear this. I worry about suddenly being on a project where travel is routine. If I have no takers by Monday I will have to wander over and talk to the PM for this particular multi multi million dollar project which I have avoided the gravitational pull from for years. I can already see it, “oh yes and I don’t want to travel more than once a month or so because as you know I have a toddler at home, I won’t be allowed to travel anymore in about 12 weeks due to our companies travel restrictions with pregnancy, oh and I didn’t tell you I am pregnant? Oh yeah, I will be out on maternity leave for about 12 weeks next spring.” Yeah. I can’t wait.

The advantage I have over others I suppose is that I am not looking for temporary work. I am looking to pick up a new project to replace my successfully finished project. About 30% time is what I am aiming for starting at the end of the month when my paper should be finished.

Leif is doing well. He does his best to crack us up daily. He has a new song that he sings regularly and AB and I struggled and struggled to learn the words. It doesn’t help that he speaks toddler language, so really getting what he is saying is difficult. The second hard point comes in the discovery yesterday that the song is really just a string of made up, but rhyming words! His teacher has promised to write it out for us because Leif really hates that AB and I don’t know this song when he wants us to sing it.

One of Leif’s funnier moments this weekend was when he announced to me that he too has a baby in his tummy. “You do?” I responded surprised. He then stuck his belly out and instructed me to “piss baby in my tummy” (kiss the baby in my tummy). I cracked up, and promptly did as he asked!

We are constantly impressed with Leif. He is working hard on the ABC's and has certain phrases down, "m,n,o,p" "s,t,u" and his favorite is "w,x,y,AND z". He is routinely counting to 14 without help or prompting if you have 14 things to count. What perplexes us though is his insistance that doing something on the count of three, like jumping or making the blocks crash is always "3,4,6!"

Last night I ventured out to get my haircut. I haven’t done this in ages it seems. Partly because I had a horrible cut last time and partly because I have been highly reclusive lately. But I ventured out to V’s stylist bravely last night. I left horrified. Seriously. I hated it. I even told the stylist I was extremely skeptical. I picked up Leif at V’s house and she worked hard to reassure me, but that was quickly eroded away by my husband who said, “woah” when he walked in the house. I said, “I am not sure what I think” and he replied “yeah, me either”. It is good I suppose to pride oneself with honesty, but there are times when it just isn’t the best policy.

The good news though is that the style vastly improved this morning when I styled it myself. At least today, I am quite happy with the cut. (AB still hasn’t told me he likes it, or offered a positive comment… but then again unless it was back to my waist I doubt he would rave. Dork.)

I am craving some free time lately. I have none. I have a little time in the evening after Leif goes down to blog a little and catch up on MySpace on occasion. About an hour to watch TV and then I am done for. My house is a disaster area. Serious disaster area. I am really hoping AB gets a job offer this week JUST so I can call our housecleaner back. AB’s intentions to keep the house clean while out of work were good, but they are just that, intentions. In the meantime I have 1” thick dog hair carpet on my side of the bedroom floor since Winny sleeps on the floor next to me. I am not sure when last our sheets were washed, my athroom sink is a frightening zone of filth. I struggle to get a load of laundry in everyday. My pantry is frightening as is my linen closet. I need a sign that says “Watch for Falling Objects When Opening” attached to the front of each. I think I am starting to nest. The mess is driving me insane. I fear that this weekend is going to be ALL about cleaning and that I am going to have to take time away from Leif to accomplish this. I hate that, but it is a must.

What I really want to do? Some crafts. I have marked off Thanksgiving week to be home all week (yay!) and my plan for that week is to make a quilt for this baby. (I will accomplish this by taking Leif to daycare Monday and Tuesday, thereby having some me time.) I plan to buy the fabric in advance and if I am lucky have cut my pieces so I can sew starting Monday morning. With any luck I will have a completed quilt by the end of the holiday week.

Even more than quilting, I have been craving some cross stitch time, I have a few gorgeous patterns begging for attention, UFO #1 Chat Noir (unfinished object) and UTO #1 Pates Baroni (untackled object) and my big prize UTO #2, The Orange Tree. I can’t even envision when I am next going to have a chance to sit down and tackle them. I took up cross stitching after one of my best friends, Vargas Girl, hooked me a number of years ago. I completed a number of small patterns… small compared to the above three that are each 50,000+ stitches. Then I delved into big patterns. I am not much for the ever present country style and cutesy cute patterns and so when I found sites that specialized in Vintage and Classic Artwork, my addiction was fed. I made a promise that I wouldn’t buy more until I completed one. That didn’t last long when I found Pates Baroni on sale for half price. Then I was browsing Golden Kite and found the Orange Tree and fell in love nearly immediately. Oh I also made the commitment to finish Chat Noir before Leif was born. Boy was *I* funny! In the past few weeks I have been seriously contemplating pulling out The Orange Tree. I am dying to stitch that. Then I think about all the work of pulling out my crates of supplies, going through my boxes of thread, buying the colors I need, spooling them all and organizing them… how to deal with Leif’s need to “howp” and I sigh and look at my dirty house and realize what REALLY needs to be tackled.

I also want to finish the October book club selection, The Red Tent, (that was already discussed). (Fantastic read, btw.) I am not even going to attempt the November book, Geek Something, Love maybe? I own it, but even putting it on my to do list is setting myself up for failure. I am a sucky book club member this second year. I haven’t been since June. Amazingly I have read most of the books, and on time too (with the exception of The Red Tent which I am SO close to finishing). For me 75% of it right now is purely scheduling difficulties, AB has class on my book club night. The other 25% of it is a mix between finding a babysitter (ok, I admit it, making the effort to find a babysitter) and feeling up to par (the problem with August and the partial problem with September). My FIL started the December book (Persepolis, The Story of a Childhood, a graphic novel) at the cabin this past weekend and told me he finds it worthwhile and interesting and that I should aim to read it, and I really want to. His endorsement is huge to me and seeing that he read 1/3 of it while “babysitting” Leif (as he napped) while AB and I dug clams, I am optimistic I can accomplish it.

What is occupying your time this Indian summer?

Blogging with pictures take 2

A few more pictures. The top one is looking back at the cabin from out in the inlet in the rowboat. The second is looking out towards the inlet from the deck of our cabin.

Blogging with pictures

I have had no time lately to blog even a vacation update. So I am taking a few minutes of my lunch break (naughty me) here at work to get at least something up from our trip to the coast last weekend.

A rare, quiet moment with Winny dog.

A trip in the row boat.

Kissing grandpa (or in Leif speak, "pissing bompa").

Hanging with mommy on the porch.

Grandma asked for a kiss... not sure what she got.

Have a good weekend!

AB, Leif, Winny and I are packing up the car and heading over the mountains and to the coast for a long weekend! We are vacating tomorrow morning as early as possible in order to get to the cabin before low tide. I love low tide and want to spend some time clamming with my mom and stepdad and showing Leif starfish, crabs, sea snails and how to walk on oyster shells, because that is what our beach is composed of, oysters. Big, huge Pacific oysters.

I need a getaway. Work is wearing on me this week. I started a venting blog about work and felt myself getting all worked up again. Let’s just say f*$%ing continuing resolution and leave it at that. This is the time every year, when I stare longingly at the ads in the back of my C&En magazine at the new faculty positions listed and dream.

But I am headed out on vacation! Four days at the seashore with the family I love. I am anxious to see Leif interact with the new environment. I am nervous to take him out in the row boat. I am thrilled to sleep in and let Leif hang with my mom. I am looking forward to Oysterfest and the Washington State Seafood Festival. I am anticipating time with a few books on the couch. I hope there will still be blackberries to pick. (Although I will not be surprised if there aren’t.)

I shall return on Tuesday! Everyone have a super weekend!

Failure of the advance Christmas shopping tactic

AB: What a great hat you got Leif! I love it! I wish I had one like it.
NM: Well ok. (Goes to closet and pulls out matching hat intended for Christmas present.)

The upside, of course, being the wonderful feeling of seeing my matching boys in their hats out on our walk last night. It has just started to cool down enough that after the sun has set, a hat is a nice thing.

Leif loved his hat and would have taken a bath in it last night had we let him. He especially liked the fact that dad had one just like it.

The GeoTrax I bought this week on sale will go straight to the closet and will not come out until they are ready to be wrapped and put under a tree!

The sky is falling!

Last night while watching TV I told AB that I was planning on voting for our Democratic candidate for Senate, Maria Cantwell. As one of those notorious and very dangerous non-party affiliated swing voters, I expected a debate and was prepared for it.

I got instead a sigh, and my card carrying Republican husband admitted that he just doesn’t think he can bring himself to vote for the Republican candidate, Mike McGavick.

Failure?

A Masters degree in Biostatistics from Harvard at age 22. How can that even be considered failure?

One of the really outstanding students I have mentored here at the lab e-mailed me today with such a somber voice that failure is the only word to put with her attitude and voice. She e-mailed me asking if she could use me as a reference in her job search as her plans for a Ph.D. from Harvard in Biostatistics “didn’t work out”. Disappointed? Only in the fact that she defended her Masters in June and didn’t even tell me so that I could send her a congratulations on your graduation card as well as a token graduation gift.

My goodness. If this is failure, what have we come to? I e-mailed her back with a hearty congratulations on her Masters and did my best to impart to her what a wonderful achievement she has in getting this degree. It made me sad for her, because I know her well enough to know that it is a huge blow to her ego to have to admit that she stopped short of her Ph.D. I knew there were difficulties from the get go in her program. She talked with me frequently about them during her first year, about the cut-throat nature of her colleagues, the unavailable nature of her professors. After her first year she was considering quitting. I believe it was me and one of the managers here at the lab who convinced her to plod forward, that it was just the first year crappola that she was encountering.

Even at my very small state school I had my fair share of that the first year. On the contrary though, I look back and realize that I was often the one dishing it out that first year. (Hanging head in shame.) But the recipients were so deserving. I mean if you can’t hack it during year one at a school that TRIES to keep its enrollment up, take a hint. (Is that justification?) Take the girl who was a year ahead of me who could not explain to her students how to derive the Ideal Gas Law. (She did graduate and is teaching math at a small community college in California.) Or the 57 year old woman who… oh goodness, I don’t even know where to start with her. When you raise your hand 3 months into Advanced Inorganic Chemistry and say, “wait, I thought a salt was NaCl?” There is a problem.

These aren’t the students that are at Harvard. C was valedictorian, graduated two years early from high school and then graduated ivy league at the top of her class in physics. The girl is amazing.

I think back to when C was selecting grad schools to apply to. Johns Hopkins, Harvard, Stanford, etc. Then she put University of Washington as her back up. She, not surprisingly, got into them all. But what shocked me was that in talking to her, UW had wormed its way into her top list and I remember her saying she kind of wanted to go there. But we all told C, you *have* to go to one of the others. You will forever kick yourself for not going! Just think of the opportunities when you finish with your Ph.D.! I wonder if we all pushed her too hard. If in her own mind, she didn’t know better what would be a good fit. And it was her fear of disappointment towards everyone else that pushed her to Harvard. I feel a twinge of guilt.

I sit here with my Ph.D. from a lower end state school. It was a safe bet. I was a decent college student who took a safe bet and went to a school that aimed to retain its students. Then I look at C with a foul taste in her mouth from her grad experience and her Masters from a school known for its competitiveness and I think how unfair. Because wow, she is so smart. And in my own mind, I look at this and can’t help but think how stupid they were to let her go.