No wonder I can't keep readers - one day complaining about toddler bathroom woes, the next pushing organic veggies, then on to math or photographs of signs. I have no over-arching theme. Oh well, not like that's going to change.
Speaking of signs, here are a few from North Interstate Boulevard in Portland, snapped on a recent gloriously sunny late winter day:
For those of you who do not live or hang out with mathematicians, today is 3.14 - the day of the year that most resembles Pi. Hence: Pi Day!
As I am a fan of mathematicians (and of the other, slightly more delicious pie) I offer the following links of the day:
A number of years ago Chris and I decided to try to buy and eat organic meats. We'd already been members of organic community supported agriculture farms, both in Chicago and Rhode Island, when we heard an NPR story about what made farmers in one northern European country lobby for organics legislation. (Sorry, I have forgotten what country it was, since I heard the story almost 10 years ago now.)
In any case, the thing that struck me at the time was the difference in how the animals were treated in organic farms versus "conventional" ones. The choice to go organic means that the farmer must take steps to avoid disease and other issues for her animals by treating them better. Where conventional farmers can cram animals together in horrid conditions and limit the spread of disease by pumping up the animals with antibiotics, organic farmers can not do this. They need to give the animals more space and take greater care to ensure their health and safety by seemingly obvious methods (keeping their livestock clean, feeding them well, etc.) Related to this, organic farmers do not rely on hormones to make their animals bigger. They feed them well and let them move around.
All this seemed like a good idea. So I was motivated both by a desire to avoid putting unnecessary crap into my body and an interest in treating animals better. It might seem a little odd that someone willing to kill animals for food cares about the animals' well-being, but just because I find them delicious doesn't mean that I don't care that the animals that feed me live decently before they end up on my plate.
So all those years ago, Chris and I decided to eat organic or antibiotic/hormone free meat (and by extension, eggs and dairy, which we buy a ton more of than we do meat), deciding that we were willing to vote with our dollars. It costs more to eat this way, but we think it is worth the money. But - and here is where I make the transition to talk about the thing that got me writing this post - it does cost more money. Luckily, you can do things to reduce the cost. You can grow things yourself, cook from scratch and use up leftovers. And you can buy some organics and some conventional. I know that I started by writing about organics in meat, and now I am going to show you a table about organic veggies, but there is a connection. Though I am not terribly worried about the treatment of veggies at the hands of conventional farmers, but I am concerned about pesticides. As I want to limit the pesticides my family and I ingest through food.
Toward that end, I like to consult the following, a guide recently updated by the Environmental Working Group. There are some obvious items on the list: apples, bell peppers and pears. It makes sense that many fruits and veggies containing a lot of water would be better to buy organic, since the pesticides get sucked up by the water into the food. There are some surprises too. I was happy to see that I can buy conventional avocados and not be too worried about pesticides. (I remember reading that things with thicker skins tend to get contain fewer pesticides.) Getting a free ride on mangoes and kiwi is great, and who would have guessed that water-hogs like watermelon and tomato would be low in pesticides?
I have been so busy with self-indulgent pregnancy and potty-related posts, I have failed to post any self-indulgent "hey isn't my child brilliant/funny/adorable" posts. Time to remedy that oversight.
February in Portland tends to be rainy and unhospitable. This year has been a little weird, with more snow and less rain than usual. Still, on those rare days when the sun shines, (foolish) parents are tempted out to the park. On this day, it was freezing (literally, I think, in addition to hyperbolically) and after running around for a half-hour, Ada actually asked to go inside. Any of you with a young child know this rarely happens. By the time we walked the half-dozen blocks home, Ada's teeth were chattering and she was considerably less cheerful than she'd been when I snapped this picture. Still, for about 20 minutes we enjoyed our glimpses of the sun reflecting on the play equipment.
To the driver of the black Ford F150 with Montana license plate 46-821:
I hope you were as freaked out as I was when you almost merged into the right side of my car this afternoon on the I-5. I know your car is much bigger than mine and it is surely a pain to look down, left and behind before changing lanes at high speed, but nonetheless I request that in the future you try to do so. If I had not braked hard you would have put a serious dent into my just completely-paid-off-this-week car.
Glad that I have better reflexes than you do,
Nora
I am worried that I am turning into a cold mother, the kind that withholds approval and affection to get what she wants. I am not there yet, but when my daughter is wailing and I am sternly responding that the horror of the moment is the result of her own choice...well, it is hard not to just take her in my arms and tell her she can have whatever she wants if she'll just stop sobbing.
Right now Ada is upstairs with Chris getting ready for bed. No matter who does her bath, Ada always wants me there for pre-bed books. I heard Chris tell Ada to let me rest, that he and she would read books together tonight. But Ada traipsed down the steps to ask: "Mama, are you available for reading books?" How can I look at her and say "nope, actually I don't want to have anything to do with you right now" - even when that is exactly what I want to say?
A few days ago I started writing a post about Ada's (utter lack of) potty routine. I wasn't sure I was going to post it. Several times I have dealt with my frustrations by writing a post that never goes anywhere beyond personal catharsis. But I need to write about this. It may be a stretch to connect potty woes to this, but part of why I blog about infertility is the hope that others suffering similar problems will take heart that they are not alone. I need to write about what we are going through now, both to unburden myself of the frustration, embarrassment and anger, and to hope that my words can let someone else know that it is not just them.
So here is what I wrote on Sunday. Nothing has changed, except that my bile keeps rising with every wet piece of clothing and smelly load of laundry...
I have started this post a dozen or more times, while the drafts get dusty in my files. How do I write about something that embarrasses and angers me, even as I have no control over it? Even worse, when I write or talk about this, well meaning people feel compelled to give me advice. This would be great, but none of the advice (really, none of it) has worked.
Ada is less than 4 months from her 4th birthday. She has not peed in any kind of toilet or potty for over six months. That most recent time was under great duress, and caused her to sob uncontrollably even as I hugged her and told her how proud I was that she'd used the potty. Before that it was over a year since she peed in a potty. Overall she's done it maybe 4 times ever.
My child wears underwear. She only wears diapers at night, and that is because after a few weeks of trying full no diapers, we decided that it was irrational to wake her every night at 11pm to change her sheets and clothes. She sometimes wets the bed at nap time, mostly if she's gone all morning without peeing and her bladder betrays her while she sleeps.
In December, out of frustration and anger, I consulted a social worker who suggested we eliminate the power struggle by letting Ada be completely in charge of her elimination. This meant that she was free to pee or poop in her pants, but that when she did she had to clean it up on her own. Which she does, with very little complaint. The downstairs bathroom is equipped with extra clothes, wipes and plastic bags, and we've placed a mirror at her level so that she can see where she needs to clean up. The underwear has to be washed out in the toilet before it can go in the wash, and all wet clothes are bagged and taken to the washing machine. Is she efficient? No. Does she do it? Yes. Does this satisfy me? No. On the up side, I am not cleaning her up any more.
Many of Ada's toys are potty trained. She spontaneously talks about her stuffed animals or dolls needing to use the potty, and dutifully takes them to the toilet to help them deal with their "need". Before we got to where we are now, we tried progressive rewards. We tried promises of big rewards. We tried cold turkey no diapers. We tried cajoling and questioning and all manner of techniques. Once or twice we forcibly held her down. (the result was so horrifying - arching, crying resistance - that we gave that one up pretty quickly.) We potty trained all her dolls, using a water spritzer to shoot "pee" into the potty while the dolls sat there. She loved that, was happy to train every toy she owns. But she wouldn't sit on the potty herself.
Recently Ada spontaneously started sitting on the toilet. As she describes it, she is "practicing" using the potty. My parents are thrilled. My sister offered congratulations. I want to be hopeful, but this is not the first time that Ada has shown some interest, only to pull back at a crucial moment. I have no idea why this is an issue for her, beyond my general understanding that toddlers often seize control of the few areas in which that is possible. (usually: what goes into and out of their bodies.) For whatever reason, food is not a big issue for Ada. As I have mentioned previously, she will actually eat a wide range of vegetables (as long as there is no sauce in sight) and the list of acceptable foods grows whenever a dessert is likely. But toileting is her control area. She is impervious to peer pressure. There are plenty of 2 year olds at her school that use the potty. She doesn't care. Some of the kids have tried to show her how to use the potty, encourage her to do so, tell her she does not have to be afraid. No dice. Ada is as resistant to peeing at school as she is at home, so it isn't just about controlling her parents.
This is the parenting area (ok, this and whining) that feels the most challenging to me right now. I had kind of promised myself not to write about it until Ada actually used the potty, but I don't know when that might be and I am routinely forced to walk away from her so that I don't express my frustration about this directly to her. Sometimes I fail. Today while plunging the toilet (a tale for another time) I told Stephanie about my frustrations, with Ada standing right there. It was a pretty crappy parenting moment, but it was all I could manage given the circumstances.
I don't really want advice. I mean, I want a magic bullet, sure, but I don't actually believe there is one. My electronic friend Mayberry Mom recently posted about all the things that have not worked with her son. I see my family in her list and share her frustration. I am with her in asking "what the hell?"
And if anyone else says "I'm sure she'll be potty trained before she goes to college" it really is going to come to blows.
Recently people found me when they were looking for:
racist eggplant
aaaarrrrr (Is it more or less confusing that this search was from Korea?)
cheerleader cupcakes (also: cheerleading cupcakes - which I might like to see, actually)
can't get over assholes (try some of those cheerleader cupcakes, I hear they help a lot)
Some good news that I needed translated to me as good news before I fully understood its good news-iness:
Friday I am 25 weeks. In Thursday's ultrasound the twins measured 26 weeks size. My first reaction was "whoa nelly"* because in a crazy way I am still confident that the twins will show up at some reasonable date and thus be huge at birth. BUT. Ellen reminded me that it is likely that the twins will show up early, and noted that any extra meat on their bones will be a blessing. Right! Way to prioritize the unlikely over the likely, Nora. And thank goodness I have a midwife as such a close friend, to remind me of the reality.
I need a little advice - I have used Bloglines as my blog reader for a good long while, but recently it is acting up more than usual. All of a sudden I see I have 700 unread posts. On closer inspection, 200 posts are from one blog, and these are posts I have already seen. A related problem is that if I check in with Bloglines several times in one day (I often use blogreading as a procrastination technique, so I will read 3 or 4 or at a time, then go back later for more) the feeds I have already read show up again as unread.
Then there is the problem of blogs not appearing on my feed. A couple of my favorites disappear for days, only to have the posts updated en mass at random.
I'm annoyed and ready to give up Bloglines. But what would be better? What do you use, and do you like it? Do you use Blogger's new "blogs I'm following" service? From what I have seen, it looks like that could be a bit annoying for someone who reads dozens and dozens (and dozens) of blogs.
I would love to hear any advice or know how you read blogs - I am ready to make a jump but want something to jump to before I leave what I've got.
Chris is:
I don't know this woman. Until this week I had never visited her blog or heard of her. But through another blog I saw a plea for help for her son Ike and her family. Ike was born 13 weeks early, which meant a lot of work and expense when he arrived. He did better than expected, but then his father was laid off and the family's health insurance was terminated with no warning. You can read about it here.
It touched a nerve for me, both because twin pregnancies are automatically on pre-term delivery watch, and because at work I am engaged in efforts to reform the health care system so that this kind of thing does not happen to people. (Well, that the loss of insurance doesn't happen and doesn't keep people from getting needed health care. Someone else is working on pre-term birth, I imagine.) Personally, every time I am gripped by a strong series of contractions I worry that the twins will show up before we or they are ready for them to be on the outside. I have read a lot about twins and NICUs and the scary process of parenting in the hospital. But yes, it was the loss of health insurance that pushed me over the edge. I am not an advocate for a "single payer" health care system - as nice as it might be, I think it is too late for the United States to go down that path. (for the wonks in the crowd, please see the great article by Atul Gawande in the January 26 New Yorker.) I do think that people should have access to health insurance and health care whether or not they are employed, and that people who lose their jobs should have an easy way to get connected to continuing coverage. (I will admit I am not sure what the situation is like for workers in Texas, where this family lives, but even with technical "access" via COBRA, that can be a prohibitively expensive proposition, especially for a family that just lost a wage earner.)
For those who just tuned out because I got all wonky on you:
The point here is: these people could use some help. Even a few dollars would probably mean a lot. You can donate by Paypal (go here for the link) and in other ways. I sent them a little, and hope that by writing about this a few more people will too. I wish for the best for Ike and his family, and hope that my family will never have to face what they are going through.
I don't know how long this idea was brewing, but on Sunday afternoon Ellen suggested that we build a teepee from some of the willow saplings laying in a pile down the block. Met with enthusiasm (from Monkey Boy and myself) and general restrained encouragement (from Ada) we went for it. Or rather, Ellen, Ada and Monkey Boy moved forward by heading down the street to shlep some saplings back. I took my pregnant lady prerogative to stay on the couch chatting with Jiro.
(or: Who Gets the Shaft?)
I admit to being constitutionally lazy. But I am also a bit compulsive, and I don't like to leave things undone.
Today is a state and national holiday, but as a part-time state employee I only get 4.8 hours of holiday pay. To make up the rest of the day, I am working for several hours this morning. While working, I sent an email about an ongoing project to one of my bosses. I knew she was working today too. (The legislature is in session, so she is on the hook in case they want anything from our office. Nice boss that she is, she is taking this on personally rather than delegating to one of the staff so she could sleep in.) The boss, seeing I am working, emails to ask if I can attend a meeting tomorrow to talk to a key legislative staffer about some work I did.
So can I? I don't usually work on Tuesdays, which means I do not have established child care. But. I hate to let this woman down, and I hate not to be there to talk about my work. On the other hand, the legislative staffer already found one flaw in my analysis - I overlooked a section of bill that established a fund I suggested the bill be amended to establish. Easy to fix (and frankly, easy to overlook in a bill that stretches over 200 pages) but now I am nervous about what else I have missed. So now I am going back through the work to make sure it is not deeply flawed in other ways.
So do I ask my regular babysitter to be with Ada for half a day so that I can drive down to the capitol for a one hour meeting? Or do I tell my boss I can't come and just have her debrief with me on Wednesday? My guilt is compounded by the fact that I can't be in the office at all this week, in part because Chris has jury duty and can not take Ada to nursery school as he normally would.
Do I shaft my work with a lame "I don't work on Tuesdays" or do I shaft my child, knowing that she is deep into a "I need mama" period that will be abruptly interrupted when the twins arrive? The latter option also shafts me to some extent, stretching my workweek and eliminating the daily nap I am realizing is increasingly necessarily to my mood and ability to function. But I am proud of my status as a professional woman, and in a deep and irrational way want everyone I interact with at work to see me as a talented, can-do person.
Oy. What would you do?
Jiro made the mistake of telling Ellen that he'd like cheerleaders for his 40th birthday.
At our vegetable pick-up last week, Ada was thrilled by a special parsnip standing out from the box of regular roots. This large parsnip was dressed up, with a bit of root stuck through its "head" to make a jaunty mustache, and a friendly drawn-on face. (Sadly, I'd left my camera at home, so we just had to enjoy the parsnip in person.)
When it was time to go, Ada was disappointed that we could not take the parsnip with us. I explained that others would want to see this funny vegetable, and suggested we could make one of our own at home. Once home, Ada asked me to fulfill my promise, which I did. I will admit that I am a huge fan of parsnips and was loathe to sacrifice an entire one to this project. Instead, I took a parsnip with two root bases and snapped off one to make our own parsnip man. I gave this little guy root arms, and then followed Ada's instructions for his other decorations.
After reading a few books with me this afternoon, Ada decided she wanted to "read" some on her own. She plowed through three or four before asking me to find her another one.
"How about this one?" I asked, holding up a book.
"It's kind of dark."
"Dark? What do you mean?"
"It is dark. I want something lighter."
"Ok, how about Cars and Trucks and Things that Go?"
"Yes."
First, who knew that Ada classified books as light and dark?
I am totally becoming that woman - the one who walks in the door and immediately unloads her complaints. I hate being her, but in the moment it just feels so good to unload.
Between my growing stomach, my whiny, needy toddler, and pregnancy related annoyances and ills, I am a real barrel of laughs to be around. My big hope is that I can now really learn the lesson I only sort of understood from my first attempt at parenting an infant: ASK FOR HELP.
I suck at asking for help. I don't like to do it, and I am not very good at judging when I need it. Case in point - Friday morning I was feeling out of breath and out of sorts while dealing with run-of-the-mill morning stuff. Ellen called and offered to take Ada for a while so that I could get some rest. I hesitated, thinking to myself: really I am fine, and since it is only going to get worse, why ask for (or even accept) help now?
Can I just say: rejecting help is STUPID. Before I got off the phone, I told Ellen that I felt I should say no, but in the end I accepted her kind offer. After Ada ran off with Ellen and Monkey Boy, I ran an errand that would have taken twice as much energy with Ada tagging along. When I checked in with Ellen she said Ada was happy to have nap at her house. So I took a nap too. A long, lovely, middle-of-the-day, alarm-free, get-up-when-you're done nap. Which helped me realize how tired I have been feeling. (Well, that and a co-worker's comment earlier in the week about how tired I look.) So right, a little reminder that (a) I should think about when I need help, (b) I should ask for that help, and (c) I need more naps.
When Ada was an infant I was terrible about asking for help. My natural instinct is to refuse help, or to turn it into something that is not actually that helpful. People would offer to come over and take Ada for a walk, but I would suggest they just come and hang out. Then I would be responsible for entertaining and maybe feeding them, plus I didn't really hand Ada over to the visitor for long enough to make it useful.
Why I cling to this counter-productive trait is beyond me. I love to give help, so what is the problem with accepting it? Even though I know that people know I am not invincible, part of me wants to uphold the fantasy that I am so together that I don't need assistance, even in demonstrably difficult circumstances.
Maybe being socked by the reality of twins will force the issue a bit, but I know that I will need (ha!) help asking for help. My plan is to ask friends ahead of time to promise to come over to take Ada or the babies away for a bit, or to do other things for our family. I don't need matching infant sleepers or new stuffed animals, but knowing that I am not always so great at reaching out when I need the help, I am hoping that by pre-planning I can get people to ask me if they can help once I am in over my head.
(So yes, if you are my real-life friend and live in town, I am now officially asking for help once the babies are born. Thank you in advance.)
For some reason, bloggers feel compelled to mention their anniversaries. I am no different. Nonlinear Girl is 3 years old today.
This blog has mostly been a fun way to navel gaze and show off pictures of my beautiful family. It has also connected me with a lot of fascinating people, some of whom have become my real life friends. Plus, some of the people I have not met in person I still care about in a very real way. Reading their updates and stories is an important part of my day. For the human connections alone, the blog has been worthwhile.
I am a little disgruntled about this whole twin pregnancy thing. It isn't so much my actual twin pregnancy, which is (knock on wood) going well. My frustration is with the rules and customs of twin pregnancy and birth. I can't imagine I am the first to complain about this, but I am still feeling a little shocked about some of what is considered "normal" for twin pregnancies. I feel like I am being constantly presented with bad news that only I see as bad.
Bad news: Twin pregnancies usually go through a doctor, so no midwife for me.
Good news: I asked a lot of people for recommendations and this one doctor's name came up a bunch. Plus, she's the mother of twins.
Bad news: The scheduler who makes my 13 week ultrasound appointment at the perinatology office across town says, "Oh, twins. We'll be seeing you a lot!"
Good news: The scheduler was wrong. I have scheduled my other ultrasounds elsewhere.
Bad news: Scheduling double ultrasound appointments is a pain in the ass. You'd think the schedulers had never dealt with twin pregnancies before.
Bad news: Many doctors are not trained to (or comfortable with) breech delivery or performing a version.
Good news: My doctor is comfortable with this and willing to do it if needed.
Bad news: I have no guarantee that she'll be at the hospital when I go into labor.
Good news: She offered to be back up to the doc in the hospital, in case that person is not comfortable with breech presentation.
Bad news: If I have another fast labor, she might not be able to get to the hospital in time.
Bad news: It is accepted procedure for women delivering twins to labor in an operating room.
Good news (sort of): My doctor says that it will be "normal" with people able to talk, move around, etc.
Bad news: Generally the laboring woman is only permitted to bring in one person with her into the operating room, even if she is just laboring normally.
Good news: My doctor was very open to my doula (my pal Ellen, who, when not helping me labor, is a hospital-based midwife) and says she'll see if she can get some kind of special dispensation/special agreement deal. Ellen is also working on this through her contacts at our preferred hospital.
Bad news: Did I mention that I will be laboring in an operating room? Doesn't exactly scream warm and comfortable.
Bad news: Going back to that whole "some docs are not comfortable with breech deliveries" thing, looking for information on twin c-section rates I find less-than comforting comments like this:
The chance of a c-section increases with the number of babies . . . But many doctors are at least willing to attempt a vaginal delivery if conditions are favorable for both babies in a twin birth.At least willing to attempt? If conditions are favorable? Strong words there, very comforting.
(or, further signs of the apocalypse)
My mother just sent me an email saying she'd signed up for facebook.
She has not yet requested to be my friend. I imagine eventually she will figure out how to do that.
In her soothing accent, my childhood doctor used to proclaim "everything is puhfectly nahmal" at the end of each visit. Lungs, check. Reflexes, check. Blood pressure, check. Whenever I have a doctor appointment that goes as expected, my pediatrician's voice rings in my head, a calming mantra confirming the news.
Monday morning at way-too-early o'clock I had an ultrasound. Not that I had specific reason to worry, but nonetheless I spent the last week or so before a little keyed up about what the ultrasound might show. I am not even sure what I thought the results would be, what bad news I'd learn. I guess it doesn't matter, since all went well today. (Everything except my arrival at the wrong location, annoyance that no one was around, and eventual realization that I needed to be 5 minutes down the road instead. Luckily I got the "fast" ultrasound tech, who turned my 2 hour appointment into an hour. I even walked out "early.")
So everything continues to be normal - twin A (the girl) is the one who seems to have been standing on my bladder on a routine basis. Her brother twin B was a little less wiggly during the scan, consistent with the movements I have been feeling from their respective areas of my uterus.
Now I do have something to worry about. That whole naming thing that Chris and I put off until after this scan can now start in earnest. We've gotten a few suggestions, even some non-sarcastic. We are going to have to get moving on this. If it is true that 97% of twins are born by 37 weeks (something I read recently) we have no more than 18 weeks to find some names for these future bundles of joy. Break out the lists!
For months I have been sitting on my hands so that I did not blab about my sister and her husband's project until allowed to do so. But given the okay to talk about it in real life, along with the fact that a ton of other (mostly SF foodie) bloggers* and others are spreading the word, I wanted to tell you how proud I am of Karen and Anthony's Mission Street Food. I am just sad that I do not live in San Fransisco. Otherwise I'd be there every week. Yum.
If you live in the bay area, Mission Street Food is on tonight. You should go. Just don't send me an email telling me what I missed, or I might cry.
*This is not a comprehensive list of the foodie bloggers who are in love with MSF. I just got tired of linking.
**Also, a few months back I tweeted about MSF to a bay area friend. My pal Maggie saw the tweet, and despite living in NY, sent the link to her Mission-dwelling friend, who went there with a date. I am not sure how the woman's date turned out, but at least I know the food was good.
Ada: Manu!
Chris: Manu?
Ada: He's someone at school. He's the new guy.
There are so many things going on in my life, buying glasses should not even be on my radar. But. My parents gave me money to buy new frames for my birthday, and since I was in LA I got a chance to visit my favorite glasses store (SEE). SEE has great frames, and it has amazing prices. The frame price includes the lens price. If you have really bad eyes, as I do, it is a mere $70 more for high index lenses. This is amazing, as I am used to spending several hundred dollars on the lenses PLUS whatever the frame costs.
When Chris and I lived on the east coast, I had few friends and thus a lot of time on my hands. I was more serious about making art, and I sold a piece to a friend. She vastly overpaid me, of her own volition (out of some desire to help me see myself as an artist and not just a putterer.) I used the money to buy new glasses. Chris and I trekked up to Boston to visit the SEE there, and it was just bout the best consumer experience I have ever had. The salesman, a local student was incredibly helpful and kind. Together we picked out a few pairs and then narrowed it down to one: small orange plastic frames that I wore and loved for years. Finally (under the stress of years of wear plus the attentions of a baby) the frame broke. There is no SEE in Portland, so I bought a pair at a local shop. I like them fine, but they do not make my heart sing as the orange frames did.
SEE is in Los Angeles, where we were for New Years. During Ada's nap one day, we scooted down to the LA store to take a look. While no one pair completely won my heart the way the orange frames had, I found a few I liked. The saleslady wrote down the frame descriptions and numbers so that I could fax an order if I decided I wanted one.
So, can you help me? I need some input on the frames. Keep in mind that I have very bad eyes. No really, worse than yours, no matter how bad you think your vision is. (One eye has a correction of 10.75, the other 11.5. This is strong.) This means that even with the high index (thin) lenses, I tend to have think glasses. Also, they are thicker at the edges than in the center. If the glasses are too big, the lenses are thicker (which means both uglier and heavier). With this limitation in mind, Chris and I picked out these frames:
My friends Mike and Ann called to wish me a happy birthday. Mike and I got talking about blogging, and photography projects. We talked about photo hosting, year-long commitments and project ideas. I mentioned how much I enjoyed a year of mornings and a year of evenings and how many great 365 photo projects I have seen.
Mike said he would like to start a year long project on January first. I was very enthusiastic about the idea, and when on December 31 I heard a radio story about this project, I immediately forwarded it to him. Apparently Ann heard the same story, and did the same. Mike, who is a brilliant and professionally trained garden designer decided he would take two pictures each morning, one of his front yard and one of the back. While his back yard has been developed over the past several years, he has yet to tackle the front yard. This means that the front yard pictures will have both a time-lapse seasonal quality, but will also document the work that he will be putting into the front garden this year.
Our pal Stephanie loaned us a baby name book that includes numerous categories of names, including:
Names that Spawn Nasty Nick-Names
This kind of stumped us. Adolph, sure. But Boris?
On the girls' list: Christopher. Does the teasing come from the fact that the girl has a traditionally male name?
Names Teachers Can't Pronounce
Why worry about this? I have an easy first name, but practically no one gets my last name right. The kids will have Chris' last name, so they've got that easier at least.
Exotic Names
Included on the list: Cherokee, Cheyenne, Pepita This caused me to wonder whether the book was published in 1984. But no, 2004. Also on the exotic name list: Sequoia. To my mind, this is a name that could lead to bad nicknames, or at least extensive middle-school teasing. Or it would, if we (a 5'9" woman and her 6'5" husband) named a child this.
According to the book, Adelaide and Crispy (both girl names) are Scary/Creepy Names along with Winnie and Uzbek. The boy names include Neptune, Brick, Bruno, Butcher, Sinbad and Elmo. Okay, they do seem right about some of these at least.
Unforgettable Names
Schmoopie, Lindberg and Trocky. Yup, unforgettable, in a laughing behind my hand sort of way.
Overpowering Names
Aunjanue (Overpowering, or just mis-spelled?)
Old-fashioned names that are cute again
Mort (um, no. still not cute)
Beulah, Ethel, Flo, Laverne, Mabel (maybe Mabel, but Laverne and Ethel?)
At the 13 week ultrasound the tech told us she thought we've got one boy and one girl. We are waiting for confirmation at the next ultrasound before dealing with names, but the news led Chris (who you'll recall is a mathematician) to suggest we name the kids Max and Min. (Even worse, on hearing this idea, Jiro said: that would make Nora the Maximum and Minimum at the same time.)
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