Reviews, Recipes, and Random Slices of Life

It's been about a month since I made a "real" post. More on the reasons for that later.

But first--how am I doing? I get that question a lot these days, and it's mostly because of how my belly is grooowing.





I am within the parameters for a "doing well, given the extreme range of symptoms that encompass 'well' at this particular gestational state" response, but that's generally too complex of an answer. Instead, I usually say, "Waddling along!" I have roughly 2 more months of baby-baking to go, with a standard error of +/- 1 month.

The baby's doing well. He's almost as tall as he's going to get; the next two months are bulking-up time. I'm supposed to do kick counts to make sure he's all healthy and stuff, but practically, I don't usually need to. He moves around a lot. He may be, as the polite phrase goes, a "busy child." Like Phil was. This is code for, "Brace yourself, and hope everybody survives the whirlwind."

I am as big as the metaphorical house--I have outgrown many of my maternity clothes and am now using a sundress-only wardrobe. Three cheers for the maxi dress fad! I require 10+ hours of sleep a night, ideally plus a 1+ hr nap in the afternoon. I eat 6-7 times a day. I am even more body-linked than usual, which means I'm inclined to turn irrational/raving-bitch-from-hell when these conditions aren't met. I pumpkin at about 9 PM. Any amount of walking hurts. Walking across a room hurts. I am getting a maternity support belt that may help with that. On the other hand, I feel perfectly normal when I'm biking, and my balance is still great, so I'm enjoying that.

My energy runs out really fast. It's The Spoon Theory, except I don't really know how many spoons I have to start with, and sometimes I can get extra spoons by doing things like taking a nap or putting my feet up for a while. If I've been working a full day, I am usually out of spoons by cooking-dinner time. My stress-response (avoidance) doesn't help, nor does the situational depression that sometimes arises from other factors.

NgithOwl has been wanting me to work a full day in the main office for the last however-long. In addition, I still have my 10-hrs-a-week job senior sitting.

That leaves a lot of things that should be getting done, but aren't:
* cleaning
* cooking
* exercise
* writing (for a project with deadlines, no less!) and all the writingy things that go with it
* baby preparation
* photography stuff
* a 25-item long urgent to-do list, with things like "pay medical bills" and "plant herbs before they die" on it

I am pretty resigned to things just not getting done. My "give a fuck" quotient is amazingly low.

In about a month, I plan to stop working from the main office at NgithOwl and switch to work-from-home projects only. That would help. This may be complicated by an off-site project that is still in negotiations that would want me for a full month. The time on that--doesn't add up. We'll see what the end decision is. I think there is some lack of understanding of exactly how pregnant I am and what that means.

I do not mean this to be depressing! Consider the summation of this post to be, I'm doing good. I'm reallyreally busy/tired, but this is an exciting time.

I have a gazillion things I should be working on*. Critiques for Minnspec. Critiques for Critters. Editing Vicesteed draft 1. Editing the beginning of Vicesteed draft 2 for Wiscon. Editing other stories. Updating market list. Submitting stories. Studying camera. Handling 80th birthday photos. Studying martial arts. Cleaning house. Doing laundry. Posting last CSA logs. Updating writing notes. Doing taxes. Job hunt. Uploading stock photos. Processing writing/photography expenses. Setting up photography business. Updating photography side of website. Planning dinner. Selling books, somehow, somewhere. Making doctors appointments. Sorting and acting on huge paper stack.

Mostly I want to go back to sleep. Or to veg out on the couch with a book. These are not valid options.

Repeat after me: There Is No Stress, There Is Only Do**.



* This is my normal state of existence.
** That's taped over my desk. It's my motivational motto. It's also a play on words.

This week, the car's engine blew up. I wasn't there, but this is what the Mad Scientist tells me. Vast amounts of smoke, barely made it home (he was on his way to work), and the mechanic said that to make the car work again, it would require a new engine. Engines are...pricey. The car is not. So for now, we're taking stock of finances in view of a new car, hunting around for a cheap one, and biking. A lot.

The day the car's engine blew up, I arrived home at my usual hour and noted with some confusion that the car was in the garage, which would have made it an extremely early time for the Mad Scientist to be home. So I went inside, and upstairs, and discovered a traumatized Mad Scientist in vast need of cuddles and somebody to suggest the next course of action.

The next course of action was fixing our old and unusable bikes. Which involved biking to Uptown on non-functional bikes while clouds formed overhead and loomed threateningly in our general direction.

While we were waiting for our bikes to be fixed, or so we thought, we went to La Bodega. Mmm, half-price bottles of wine and food made mostly out of olive oil. I mean, I love olive oil, ask anyone, but even I was thinking they went a bit overboard. It was highly tasty though, and we got to enjoy dining in a setting that was clearly far classier than we were.

Upon returning to the bike shop, we discovered that in fact our bikes had not been getting fixed. So we sat. And waited. And waited.

A couple of hours later, tires replaced and brakes functional once more, we biked over to the CC to celebrate chadvalentine and opheliac_9's anniversary. Much liquor was had, and the new icon was taken. Then we biked over to their apartment and more liquor was had, along with some very tasty barbecued chicken. Then we wobbled our unsafe way home.

The next morning the Mad Scientist had to bike in to work. He could bike and bus it, but it actually ends up taking longer. It's about an hour bike ride. He claims to have still been in the shaky "was just drunk" phase.

This week, the poor man is made entirely out of ache.

So am I, between practicing my material for the belt test this Saturday, line drills during regular class, and--oh--biking. And carrying very heavy bags of groceries home.

I think the moral of the story is something like, "Life is pain, but alcohol helps. And don't forget to keep your bikes functional, 'cause you never know when you'll need them."