Lede safely buried

I have a laurel hedge outside my kitchen window. It separates our house from the very close next door neighbor's house.  I would take a picture to demonstrate the view, but I have just become aware how dirty the windows are, as tends to happen around this point in the spring every year. That, and the dog food container with the broken lid we haven't replaced since it broke several months ago is on the window sill (it's a bay window) and the wall is still not repainted from the renovations we did last August. Nothing like the idea of sharing a peek of your home with others to make you realize that your home is a disaster.

We've been thinking a lot about the disasters we ignore on a daily basis and the ways we will right them, because I've gone and gotten myself knocked up again. It actually happened quite a while ago, right around Christmas. I should have known when I woke up on New Year's Day NOT feeling like I'd been out drinking champagne all night that it was happening again. But it took me another five days before I decided to test on a whim and, voila! Pregnant.

I spent much of January and February trying not to die. Not literally, but it was tough. The husband had a busy travel schedule, including the part where he went back to New Zealand this year and we stayed home. That happened to be about weeks 6-9 of my pregnancy, otherwise known as the weeks in which consciousness is most painful. Marlo ate a lot of whatever the heck she wanted for dinner (mostly apples and peanut butter) and I did a lot of sleeping through Sleeping Beauty.

Then, toward the end of February, I caught a cold. I had this cold until, oh, about a week ago? I went to the doctor three times, got a chest x-ray, two rounds of antibiotics, you know, all the stuff that you really want to do while incubating a fetus. Finally I'm down to one coughing fit a day, and then the pollen count spikes. So now I'm back to sinus pain and general malaise, and I'm ever so happy about it.

This pregnancy has been way more uncomfortable so far than I remember the first one. I also feel like I'm about a month ahead, discomfort/largeness-wise, but I guess that's pretty common the second time around. And really, I was just checking in on my blog posts from last time and I think realistically I'm a week or two bigger. I posted at 19 weeks the last time that I needed to go shopping for maternity clothes, and this time I put on my maternity jeans for the first time last Friday, in the middle of my 18th week. It felt so good I wondered why I waited so long.

And now, you're caught up. More details forthcoming.

I'm really a very happy person, promise

Well, hard to say what's wrong with me, but I didn't even like Thanksgiving this year. It's usually my favorite holiday. But this year, I felt entirely put out by having to figure out what to cook and grocery shopping and the whole lot of it. I was glad when it was over and I didn't even cook my customary at-home turkey feast the day after. I had, like, two turkey sandwiches and NO PIE, not even for breakfast.

Did I mention I'm working again? I guess more accurately I'm getting paid to work, and falling dangerously behind, but yeah, working. Very much part time. Very much in a way that is dangerous for someone with my lack of self-discipline - that is, totally unsupervised and unchecked. If my boss were anybody other than my father, I'd probably have gotten fired already. But, bonus, I totally get to play both sides in the mommy wars now. And, also bonus, when I had to pay the vet $600 to amputate one of the cats' toes, there was enough money in the bank to do that.

I found a blog today with a recipe for diet coke brownies. Basically what it sounds like. Box of brownie mix, can of diet coke. Mix, bake and enjoy. I thought that was depressing enough on its own merits, but then I read the "about me" sidebar and discovered the woman who posted this recipe is - get ready for it - head of school lunch in her kids' school district. Sometimes I don't feel like we stand a chance in this world. And then I realize I am thinking that thought while inhaling my red dye #40 soaked Christmas M&Ms, and it all feels even more hopeless. Holiday Cheer!

Bring a nickel; tap your feet

Has there ever been a song that had you convinced it was destined to be the soundtrack to your insanity? That's how I feel about "What I Like About You" by the Romantics. Like, someday, I'm going to snap when it's on the radio and spend the rest of my days rocking in the corner. Why don't I just turn it off? Well, if only it were that easy, right? It comes on and I get sucked into some sort of maniacal anxiety cave, and there's nothing to be done but try my best to hang on to my sanity. 

Speaking of songs with weird connotations, I am deeply disturbed by the new Walgreens ads with John Corbett as the narrator and "Down on the Corner" by CCR as the jingle. Here is the reason why. That song has always conjured weird visuals of the Keebler elf factory, but in more of a sort of acid-trippy, gnome-y way (assuming that makes any sense to anyone). Couple that with the old-timey photography and the creepy John Corbett "I'm not a sex predator, I'm just a friendly dad-type who wants to make sure you are warm so why don't you just get in the shower I'll watch just to make sure you don't slip" thing and I'm beyond skeeved out. 

Welcome to the disaster that is my brain. 

The best blogger in the history of blogging

Hi. You may have noticed that I took a bit of a hiatus. Or not. I just looked at my own blog for the very first time since July. I wish I had some dramatic account of where I have been and what has kept me away from the blog. Almost. I almost wish that. But the truth is that I was bored of myself and felt like I had nothing to say, so I decided to shut up and walk away. I figured when the time was right I would come back.

Around the beginning of September when I was all "back to school" and trying to practice self-discipline, part of my plan was to get into the daily writing habit. That might have happened, but instead I got myself on a full-time MOM schedule of asinine toddler activities and spent any free time I could get trying to clear my head of nursery rhymes. Then I got a nasty little cold and spent my free time napping. Then all of a sudden it was October.

So, what's new. We're in a pretty good little groove.  I can tell that we've found our groove because now it's time for us to make a serious effort at another baby. That's the way it always works, right? You find some sort of equilibrium and then you shake it all up again.

I will try to be here. I will try to think of interesting things to say. Hopefully I get myself knocked up again soon; there's a wealth of material to be had there. Best reason to have a baby, right? Blog material?

There was some summer, but I missed it

I've officially ignored my blog so long that it disappeared off of the "top sites" page in Safari. I haven't been doing anything that interesting, really. We spent last week in New Hampshire with Mo's parents. I gave myself permission to have as many sodas and ice cream cones as I wanted. I had three cokes (one cherry!) and one soft serve twist as big as my face.  I haven't quite decided if I am proud of my restraint or disappointed that I didn't take full advantage.

I really like summer in New England, so it's a shame our time there has to be spent in my in-laws' house. "Our" bedroom is in the upstairs southeast corner and is approximately as hot as the innermost circle of hell. Did I mention the freight train that rolls past at five minutes to four every morning? Or the futon? The only way to sleep is to pass out drunk, which is not really that viable of a plan for the duration of a week's visit.

I didn't have a lobster. Not even a lobster roll. I didn't buy any cheap(er) maple syrup. I didn't pack home any New England style hot dog buns. I deserve to be fired.

Meanwhile, it's still not summer here back at the ranch. I'm staring out at overcast skies and thinking we might as well pack it in and just get on with the inevitable winter. But then I remember that Anchorage is yet to get any higher than 63 this summer and that the rest of the country is burning alive, and I think, we're good, thanks.

Vancouver the Last

I'm going to sum up the rest of our Vancouver trip very briefly, because it's been over a week now and nobody cares.

If you ever find yourself in Vancouver with 300 bucks to drop on a meal, I think you should drop it at Cioppino's. It's in Yaletown, which is the trendy yuppified-old-warehouses-turned-into-lofts district. But the food is amazing and they have a picture of Bill Clinton there to prove it. I'm not even sure what I mean by that. 

We split two appetizers, a pasta, a main and a dessert along with a very pleasant bottle of wine the waiter recommended when he saw me wrestling with the three-inch thick wine list. The courses were fantastic, each one better than the last.  

My half of the main course, perfectly medium rare lamb with curry foam

Before we drove home on Sunday, we went for brunch. Fraiche is a restaurant in West Vancouver, with an absolutely amazing view back over the city. Sitting there was definitely one of those moments where I felt ridiculously lucky to be me. I had the eggs benedict, all the while thinking "hey, screw you Bourdain for trying to ruin this for me."  

Doesn't even do it justice.

I'm not sure what the problem is with the formatting, but I'm too lazy to try and fix it. Good thing I am not a blogging professional. 

Vancouver the second

We took our leave of Salt Tasting Room without a solid follow-on plan. The sun was out for probably the first time in a week (Juneuary! says the media) and we entertained the idea of a patio. But the first one we came across was way crowded, then the next one was not very well reviewed on Yelp. After walking the length of Gastown, we decided to double back and try to get in to one of the Chowhound recommended spots, The Pourhouse. Open Table claimed they had no seatings available, but we figured we could at least try to get in the bar.

Best decision ever. We walked in and the hostess showed us to a couch in the bar and said she would have a table for us shortly. This place is famous for drinks, and if the table of four women horizontal in their booth was any indication, the booze pours freely (did I mention it was all of 7:30 at this point? They asked me to join them, but I declined). The bartender came over to make friends and learn more about us so that he could make us the perfect drinks, and after a brief interview he said he knew just the thing and went off to mix. He made something bourbon based for Mo that I believe was called a Red Hook, and for me, a Clover Club cocktail. Do you know how delicious a Clover Club is? Too delicious. Gin, lemon juice, raspberry liqueur and an egg white. I decided it was in my best interest to stop at one.

Once seated, we had a seared tuna and artichoke salad that didn't work as well as I had hoped it might. Mo's entree was steelhead trout with sage and brown butter gnocchi, which was great. But it was completely overshadowed by my meal. I had braised beef, served on pureed celery root with some mushrooms, spinach and roasted tomatoes. But the kicker was the dollop of horseradish creme fraiche on top. That I have never thought of such a thing before is a travesty. It sounds like too much, right? Rich on richer? But it was amazing. I damn near licked that plate clean.

There were so many intriguing options on that menu that we had a hard time choosing, but we were both very satisfied with our choices. It's only too bad we weren't there in a larger group so that we might have been able to taste more. Of course, it would have only been sad to be there in a larger group that didn't believe in sharing. I am sure we'll go back next time we're in town, but it will be a challenge not to order that beef again.

Next time: Our Saturday night meal.

Me enjoying the view of my husband enjoying the view