It's Here

I hope to write more tonight, but right now, I successfully convinced work to cut a conference call short so that we could watch the swearing in. I don't know if it's the hormones or what, but I feel like I've been crying for the past three days. I just can't believe this is really happening. I have been successfully doing all my baby to-do lists without really processing the emotions around having a baby, but this weekend it hit me -- I get to raise my kid in a country that elected Barack Obama president. Sniff. Hope is right.

[Also, in case you think I'm losing my edge, watching Dick Cheney get hauled out in a wheelchair gives me a girl hard on. Assholes get what they deserve.]

Watching (Or Why I'm Afraid of Maternity Leave)

YG and I are sitting on the couch watching Fear -- that piece of awesome from 1996 starring Marky Mark and Reese Witherspoon. I am trying to explain to him why this is a piece of cinematic greatness. Let me count the ways:

1. Hello? Marky Mark.
2. The "your parents are divorced and your dad has a new family so you will pick an abusive boyfriend" plot line.
3. The roller coaster finger puppets. Classy.
4. The "I'm going to take your virginity by breaking into your house and waking you up with my penis" scene.
5. Alyssa Milano.
6. Marky Mark beats himself in the chest repeatedly with the crazy eyes.
7. "Nicole 4 Eva" carved on the same chest.

It's so bad, it's brilliant. But, see, this is what happens when I have some responsibility for evening planning and meals. We're sitting on the couch eating leftovers out of plastic containers watching Fear. When YG is in charge, there is a meal "plan" that sometimes includes vegetables. I really fear for what's going to happen to us when I'm on leave. 3 months of Lean Cuisine and a steady diet of Jerry Springer? I'm worried.

New Year's Resolutions

1. Blog more.
2. No, really.
3. Learn how to upload pictures easily.
4. Figure out Facebook so that I don't feel like I'm a hundred years old every time I'm on there.
5.Submit 3 pieces...anywhere.
6. Figure out my career. I know this is on there every year, but maybe this will be the year.
7. Run three races post-Zygote.
8. Journal more.
9. Stop watching so much crappy t.v.
10. Stop buying books when I have bookshelves full of unread books.

I have a lot more rattling around in my brain, but that's ten for now.

Oh, Oprah

Unless you've been living under a rock lately, you've probably heard that Oprah got "fat" again. She's 200 lbs (enormous, ya know) and is asking herself, "How did I let this happen again?” She's also talking about how she isn't setting an example for her fans.

Enough. Seriously. You're fine the way you are. You're fucking Oprah. Regardless of what you think about the woman, she's ACCOMPLISHED. AND she's worried about being fat. It makes me feel kind of hopeless. I am 16 weeks pregnant, and I am still struggling with all this crap. It sucks. I wish I wasn't, but there you go. I struggle with body image under the best of circumstances, so I don't know why I thought being pregnant would change that. I am supposed to be gaining weight for the health of my kid, but it's still fucking with my head. Then I see one of the most accomplished women in the world struggling with this -- and instead of talking about that part, the struggle -- she's talking about being disappointed in herself. It makes me feel like I'm SUPPOSED to be disappointed in myself, and that's not right.

As expected, a lot of other people have tons to say about this. Here are some of my favorite picks:

* Shapely Prose:

". . .you’re showing the world that no amount of money, or hard work, or discipline (whatever guilt you feel over easing out of that part-time job, come on, don’t even try to tell me that Oprah Winfrey lacks self-discipline and determination!) can make a stubbornly fat body remain thin for long. I just wish, for your sake as well as for the millions of women who look up to you, you could find a way to reframe your struggles with your weight, to practice and promote Health at Every Size, to believe that you are a beautiful woman — you so are! — who does not need to keep apologizing for what she eats or what dress size she wears. I wish you would choose to be the role model you’re perfectly suited to be, instead of trying to be one you’re not — and instead being an object lesson."

* The F-Word:

"She’s the poster child for unproven, untested, unsuccessful and medically unsound weight-loss plans galore - plans that despite their proven ineffectiveness, continue to motivate viewers to try similar methods because Oprah did it! And yet even with her great wealth, personal chef and trainer and access to healthy foods and fitness resources, Oprah hasn’t been able to sustain a weight loss for any length of time. We don’t need Einstein to tell us that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

Things To Be Thankful For

It's been a long time since I've posted anything of note, mainly because I've been busy with work and school. Now that the Thanksgiving weekend has passed and I survived the trek down to NJ and the Scamtrak crowds back, I'm safely settled back on the couch in my pajamas, watching Christmas Vacation with YG and the MG.

I also haven't been posting lately because our major items of note have been things that we've needed to keep relatively under wraps.

Major Item #1: YG graduated from Presidio and the same week, he got a new job. He's still with the same company, but now in a sustainable technology position. He was really deliberate about choosing his career path and school and this is the pay off for all his hard work. I'm all proud and shit. We celebrated with a weekend in Sonoma.

Major Item #2: We are expanding. Sometime around June 2, the G family will include me, YG, the MG, and the soon-to-be-named Zygote G. I'm about 14 weeks along, and just starting to show with a tiny belly and gargantuan boobs that have taken over Cambridge. We had our second ultrasound last Tuesday and Zygote was happy and healthy and jumping all over the place. I saw the tiny hands and feet, and it was all too surreal.

I'm finding it extremely difficult to write about all the crazy emotions surrounding all of this. Everything that I was thinking about in the abstract is now real, and we have a lot of thinking and planning and buying (holy shit, are things expensive!) to do in the next six months. I'm very excited, but also terrified. I guess this is the beginning of my lifetime of worry.

I'm also grateful that everyone seems to be really happy for us. YG's family, my family, all of our friends and coworkers -- everyone thinks we're ready -- and the MG is excited about the prospect of being the big sister.

So that's our big news and the big thing we're thankful for this year. I know that I'll be able to write more eloquently about this at a later time, but for now, let's just say that I'm really, really happy.

Election Day

I'm alternating between nail biting, crying, being hopeful...everything.
I went to the my polling station before it opened this morning and waited on line for about 45 minutes. I got to the front of the line and was told that my name wasn't on the list, that I had been dropped, along with a number of other people. I had to wait until the volunteers got through to the secretary of state's office and confirmed that we were registered. It was a pain in the ass, but I waited because I wanted my vote to count -- even if it was coming from big, gay liberal Cambridge. Lots of interesting comments about the People's Republic in this news story. I finally voted and now I'm just waiting and waiting and waiting. I am cautiously optimistic.

I Used To Have A Blog

But then my home PC crapped out with the blue screen of death and a fatal system error, and I had no desire to go to the library to update my five readers on foods that I have eaten and things that I have bought. I am also juggling work, school, and some volunteer stuff (I know) and like to sleep sometimes. I will be back when things get more interesting and after the election is over. That way you'll know if I'm happy or if I'm packing up and moving to Europe.

Love Your Body Day is October 15

From the website:

"Women and girls are continually bombarded with images from entertainment and advertising that help define our culture's beauty ideal. Fashion magazines, celebrity blogs and TV shows like Make Me a Supermodel continue to push girls and women to try unhealthy fad diets to achieve unrealistic body types. And while girls and women resort to compulsive exercise, starving themselves, and cosmetic surgery to achieve the media image of the "perfect" body and face, they may not realize that their health and lives are at risk. But you can make a difference!

The NOW Foundation's Love Your Body campaign helps raise awareness about women's health, body image and self-esteem. Since 1997, Love Your Body has given girls and women the tools and the encouragement to "just say no" to the air-brushed, cookie cutter images that Hollywood and Madison Avenue are trying to sell.

On Oct. 15, NOW chapters and campus and community activists across the country are celebrating Love Your Body Day with actions and events. "

Tell Your Friends!

In the same spirit, Fat Talk Free Week.

Check out the video. I'm a little wary of anything sponsored by a sorority, but this is pretty cool.

Tenemos Amor a Noche? Or Where the Hell Have I Been?

So, it's been a while. Since I last wrote, I have been across the country and back, to NJ, and am now getting ready to head off to Syracuse. I'm a little exhausted, but happy with being able to see everyone.

The trip to San Diego was a business trip, but well worth it. I got good media coverage and was able to sneak in visits to Nikki and Marisela, both of whom I haven't seen in a while. It was warm and sunny and I saw the Pacific again and finally watched the Sex & The City Movie (suck) and had an awesome lemon square at Extraordinary Desserts. I took the red eye back and nearly killed myself due to the screaming baby on the plane. Seriously, who takes a 6 month old baby on a friggin' red eye? It was so out of hand and there were lots of annoyed, and then screaming, passengers and NO SLEEP.

I got home Wednesday morning and saw YG for a handful of hours before he headed off to San Francisco for school. I left for NJ on Friday night, spent 5.5 hours in traffic, and gorged myself on food and strip mall shopping all weekend.

On Columbus Day, I took the day off and ran the Tufts 10K for Women in Boston. It was one of the better races I've run and there were over 7,000 women, some who were 32-year veterans. I ran the whole thing (all 6.2 loooong miles) and finished in 1:21. I'm really happy with my time and my progress and the fact that I set a goal at the beginning of the summer and stuck to it. I hope to do it again next year. I will get to that marathon yet.

This weekend we're heading to Syracuse to hang out with Becky and Phil and to show YG and SG the SU campus (i.e. where all the magic happened). Should be a good time.

So yeah, a rather boring update, but I haven't been doing a ton of stuff other than travel, work, more work, my writing class and the other work we're doing for the church. Boooooring.

And what does "tenemos amor a noche?" refer to? YG and I were telling the MG about how long we studied Spanish in school and were trying to demonstrate conversational phrases. He couldn't remember the Spanish word for sex. Hee. I managed to answer, "No, no, YG, mi cabeza" and he shot back, "Muchas gracias [Insert EvilCameltoe's Name]." Adventures in Spanglish.

Lacking A Thing To Say

Our home PC has crapped out and is infected with a bunch of viruses so I haven't been blogging. I had lots of thoughts about the financial crisis and the debates and the state of the world, but it's rainy and blah out so I'm feeling less than verbose. I spent the afternoon working on a comms plan for my church and even that came out very bullet-y and boring and blah.

Anyway, check out the church's new video. This is going to be airing on TV stations starting on Monday. Pretty cool, right?



Also, a church blog post that I rather enjoyed. When the right-wing douches are attacking the UCC and calling its members "the most left-leaning of all major U.S. denominations," I feel pretty confident that we ended up in the right place.

Things To Rethink Saying To Your Partner

"That jacket makes you look like Dr. Evil."

Me:



Dr. Evil:


That's what I get for trying to wear something new and different for me. Reminiscent of the Fat Lard in An Ugly Shirt conversation of '07.

Unrequited Love

I've missed you, my love. But now you are back and you are taking names and kicking ass, and I love, love, love you.

Day:1; Me: 0

And here's how it went:

1. Woken up at 6 a.m. by the ECT in full-on hysteria mode shouting about how MG is sick. Given the time and the tone, one would assume that the child is covered in sores and coughing blood. No, she has a cold. But ECT has a class. ONE. YG and I have this crazy thing called work. Arrangements are made, and YG will have to pick the child up at ECT's mother's house, dodging flying monkeys and pitchforks.

2. On the walk to the gym, YG and I are BOTH stung by hornets, and it hurts. It still fucking hurts FOURTEEN HOURS LATER.

3. Fucking soccer mom in an Escalade blocks traffic on Rindge Ave. this morning, and we are both stuck behind her for too long. WHO DRIVES AN ESCALADE?

4. My shrink is 20 minutes late for our appointment. By this time, I am already well into the crazy and want to eat a fistful of Xanax.

5. In the parking lot at work, my heel gets caught in the space between the sidewalk and I fall skinning one knee and cutting up the one that is already injured. That's right -- ALREADY injured. After my awesome race last weekend, I went out for a run last Tuesday and couldn't finish due to throbbing pain in my left knee. I did a bunch of Googling and icing and chewing of the Advil and diagnosed it as "runners knee." I have been walking and lifting weights, but haven't been out running in a week.

Running is pretty much the one thing that keeps me sane about my body -- whenever I feel crazy about how it looks, I remember how awesome the things my body can do are, and come back from the edge. And now I can't do it. I did a 20 mile bike ride on Saturday and even that aggravated the knee. I've been keeping to my 10K training schedule fairly rigorously, and the race is a month away and now this. I haven't even processed how fucking pissed I am.

6. My work. I deliver no value to the world at large. Enough said.

7. So I want to write, but I'm totally blocked and struggling with this last assignment for class.

8. The state of the world. Lehman Brothers, Merill Lynch, AIG, and the idea that people are fucking stupid enough to want to vote for McCain/Palin make me want to crawl under the covers and die for a while.

9. Traffic on the way home. One hour door to door listening to "world is going to hell in a handbasket" stories on NPR.

10. DID I MENTION THAT I GOT STUNG BY A HORNET AND IT STILL FUCKING HURTS BECAUSE IT DOES?

But, I never can stick to a position, so things that did not suck today.

1. One of the bloggers I follow, Erin Shea, wrote this awesome post titled, "So Obama is gonna raise your taxes, is he?" Go check it out. Lots of neat links and commentary.

2. Les Misbarack. I'm sure if you're reading this blog, you know that I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, cool. I am embarassed to admit how gay I was for Les Miserables. I saw it three times, I loved Eponine, and oh good lord, I did interpretive dance to "I Dreamed A Dream" in marching band (this I can at least blame on the flag squad director). Such a dork. So imagine my ridiculous glee upon discovering Les Misbarack. LOVE!




* I am also, apparently, totally homophobic because that's like the 50th time in 2 days that I've used the phrase "so gay for." Awesome. Because I need more issues.

Dear Tina Fey: I Am Totally Gay For You

I have loved you longer than I care to admit. The old skits -- mom jeans, baby thongs, your weekend updates -- were brilliant. You were the cool, funny, yet smart sexy girl I wanted to be.

And then you do this:




And it makes me want to make sweet, sweet love to you.

And after that, I'm fucking Matt Damon.

On Sarah Palin And Other Odds and Ends

I'm half watching Charlie Gibson interview Sarah Palin on 20/20 and I can't figure out what I'd want to write on her that others haven't eloquently written already.

Case in point: Rebecca Traister's "Zombie Feminists of the RNC"
Everything that is rattling around in my brain and making me so disgusted, she has written better.

"Perhaps it's because the ground has shifted so quickly under my feet, leaving me with only a slippery grasp of what the basic vocabulary of my beat -- feminism, women's rights -- even means anymore. Some days, it feels like I'm watching the civics filmstrip about how much progress women made on the presidential stage in 2008 burst into flames, acutely aware that in the back of the room, a substitute teacher is threading a new reel into the projector. It has the same message and some of the same signifiers -- Glass ceilings broken! Girl Power! -- but its meaning has been distorted. Suddenly it's Rudy Giuliani and Rick Santorum schooling us about pervasive sexism; Hillary Clinton's 18 million cracks have weakened not only the White House's glass ceiling, but the wall protecting Roe v. Wade; the potential first female vice president in America's 200-year history describes her early career as "your average hockey mom" who "never really set out to be involved in public affairs"; and teen pregnancy is no longer an illustrative example for sex educators and contraception distributors but for those who seek to eliminate sex education and contraception.

In this strange new pro-woman tableau, feminism -- a word that is being used all over the country with regard to Palin's potential power -- means voting for someone who would limit reproductive control, access to healthcare and funding for places like Covenant House Alaska, an organization that helps unwed teen mothers. It means cheering someone who allowed women to be charged for their rape kits while she was mayor of Wasilla, who supports the teaching of creationism alongside evolution, who has inquired locally about the possibility of using her position to ban children's books from the public library, who does not support the teaching of sex education.

In this "Handmaid's Tale"-inflected universe, in which femininity is worshipped but females will be denied rights, CNBC pundit Donny Deutsch tells us that we're witnessing "a new creation ... of the feminist ideal," the feminism being so ideal because instead of being voiced by hairy old bats with unattractive ideas about intellect and economy and politics and power, it's now embodied by a woman who, according to Deutsch, does what Hillary Clinton did not: "put a skirt on." "I want her watching my kids," says Deutsch. "I want her laying next to me in bed." "

I will keep my feelings about douchebag Donny Deutsch and his too-tight black t-shirts to myself right now.

Here's where she nails it:

What Palin so seductively represents, not only to Donny Deutsch but to the general populace, is a form of feminine power that is utterly digestible to those who have no intellectual or political use for actual women. It's like some dystopian future ... feminism without any feminists.

I really don't understand how anyone claiming to be a feminist can support an anti-choice, abstinence-only candidate who wants to teach creationism in the public schools. AND supported Pat Fucking Buchanan. What? Huh?

The thing that disturbs me the most, though, is how easily people fell for her. Prior to the announcement, I had no strong feelings about John McCain. With the exception of his positions on the war in Iraq, I could *almost* imagine not killing myself over the idea of a McCain presidency. And then Palin. I thought it was the grossest kind of "hey, chicks like chicks. Let's pick a chick and they'll vote for her" pandering. My initial thought was, "how stupid do these people think that we are?"

Apparently, pretty stupid. She's a celebrity, and let's not forget, a holy, sainted mother of five. I had an actual conversation with a woman who said she totally disagreed with her politics, but would vote for McCain because HE picked a woman and because, direct quote, "she's a MOM. She understands. She KNOWS." This is a woman that I respect -- I was stunned into silence. What exactly is it that she knows?

On the other hand, my mother and my aunt last weekend provided some balance. Neither of them are die-hard Democrats, but expressed disgust over the idea that a woman who has managed a town of 6,000 people (being touted everywhere as her "prior experience") is qualified to be Vice President of the United States. Both of them pointed out that they've managed more people and more budget than that. And they're both moms. Apparently, they don't KNOW the same shit that Sarah Palin does.

The whole mess makes me very, very scared. The most inspiring candidate we've had in a while could lose, and with a McCain presidency, we're one heart attack away from having our second gun-toting, religious freak in the White House. I want to scream.

In other news:
* At least some humor can be found around Palin: My friend, Diana, and comedienne, Sara Benincasa, are starring in number of Plain vlogs on Youtube and getting all sorts of coverage including here, here and here. My favorite was Sarah at The RNC, but Kanye! made me pee my pants just a little today. Very cool for those guys.

* And then back to being pissed off. Newsweek ran an article titled To Work or Not?
A new study finds that children of privileged families fare worse when the mother works outside the home. But what does the research really tell us? and again, I ask, scream, bang my head against the wall until I'm a bloody pulp, "WHAT ABOUT THE FATHERS?" Where are they in the equation? Where do they ever appear in these types of pieces? According to the research, my future children won't be well-adjusted and they'll be fat too.
If you really want to give yourself a stroke, just scroll through some of the comments.

* Currently reading: The Great Awakening: Reviving Faith and Politics in a Post-Religious Right America by Jim Wallis. More on this later. I'm enjoying it.

* Watching: ANTM is back, thank the Lord. I was starting to get too smart with all this reading. I love the hot little tranny. I also finally watched The Constant Gardner and loved it. I've re-added Ralph Fiennes to my "I'd Have Sex With You" list. It was iffy for a while there, but he's redeemed himself.

* Twelve days in and I still haven't spent any money on extras. I went to a "Winedown" at Harvard Book Store tonight and it was a bit like sending an alcoholic to a bar, but I prevailed. YG is out of town, so I went on my own and mingled in my socially awkward way, but yes, I spoke to other humans. Woot!
Still posting pictures to Outfits I Have Enjoyed. My fear of pants is large. Like my butt.

* Thinking: That are many, many reasons for me not to like Sarah Palin, but when I look at the older pictures of her, with the big hair and the way-too-much make up, she reminds me of the Evil Cameltoe. A lot. Frightening.

24 Hours in Manhattan (Or Happy Birthday to Me)

My 32nd birthday came and went in a whirlwind. I had dreams of writing a long post of all things I am grateful for this birthday, but I haven't even gotten around to drafting it yet. That will come later, probably after I've forgotten that I am grateful for them.

It was a great weekend. YG did another super secret birthday trip, and I had no idea where I was going until we passed the exit for the Tappan Zee and I realized we were headed to Manhattan again. I had figured somewhere local like Maine or the Cape, and then when I saw we were going south, I guessed the Jersey shore or Long Island, but it was Manhattan again, and it was perfect.

We stayed at another Kimpton Hotel on Park Avenue, near Grand Central. We walked around a bit in the heat and had drinks at the Roylaton and I got sad for a bit, realizing that my time to live in New York City had probably passed -- that I didn't take advantage of it in my 20s and that I probably won't be taking advantage of it until I'm much older and my imaginary children have gone off to school. I love visiting, but the crowds grate on my nerves and I find myself being bitchy and awful. Luckily, our hotel had the cure. First, they delivered a bottle of wine and cake, followed by a bottle of champagne. YG and I drank our own proseco, purchased at the wine shop in Grand Central, and went to dinner at Artisanal , downing more wine and buckets full of yummy cheese and chocolate fondue.

After dinner, we were roaming the streets of the city and decided to go to the top of the Empire State Building. It was relatively quiet and the humidity had changed into a breezy and warm night, and we stayed up there for a while, looking at the lights and the water and my home state.

The next day we had cake and coffee for breakfast and lounged around in the hotel-provided bathrobes, talking and reading. I just finished Ethan Canin's America, America. YG read it first and loved it, and I devoured it in a week. After the rain started, we walked over to MoMA and took in the photography and several of the Picassos. YG and I have the same philosophy about museums and art in general. We seem to like the idea of them more than actually visiting them, but we picked out the things we wanted to see and limited our time. This was amazing in person, and for a rainy day in NYC, the annoying tourist factor was relatively low.

We walked in the rain along 54th Street. YG had to buy a bigger umbrella because the downpour was relentless and we stopped for drinks at a no-name bar to escape. We met my family -- everyone (my parents, nana, brother, sister, and aunt) -- at Lattanzi for an early dinner, and I opened up my presents and just chatted, as if it were any normal dinner in the city.

We drove home that night because I had my 5K at 8:30 the next morning. It poured the entire way, but we made it. The rain cleared out in time for the race, and I finished in 32:51, the fastest 5K I've ran so far, and a SIX MINUTE improvement over my time last year. I met YG for brunch and we enjoyed the rest of our Cambridge afternoon.

All in all, a pretty great birthday.

Exile in Guyville (or this weekend's update)

It's 5 p.m. on Labor Day and the church bells are ringing next door, signaling the end of the lovely weekend. YG is leaving for Canada tomorrow and I have to go back to work and none of us are happy. Let's recap:

On Friday, I decided to work from home to avoid the holiday traffic and other humans in general. I got out early and managed to do my first 6 mile run, ensuring that I'll be pretty much ready when the 10K rolls around in October. I recently discovered MapMyRun, and it's the perfect tool for an anal-retentive freakshow like myself. I can input all my miles and calories and keep monthly totals. In August, I logged 103.4 miles. That included a 22 mile bike ride and a half mile swim, but still -- all of that on foot. Awesome.

I worked for most of the day and caught up on a bunch of nagging things I've been putting off for weeks. Our babysitter came around 6:30 and then YG and I headed into Boston to see Liz Phair performing all the songs from Exile in Guyville. We had noodles at a Thai place and then joined a bunch of people around our age at The Paradise. That should have been my first inkling that it was going to be an awesome night. Every time we go to shows anymore, we're among the oldest people in the audience. The Liz Phair crowd seemed like a bunch of people who had bought the album when it first came out in 1993. Say what you will about Liz Phair and how her later albums sucked ass, Exile in Guyville was incredible and pretty much the soundtrack to my late high school, early college existence. I thought she was speaking for ME, and I remember being in Syracuse that crazy summer in 1996 driving around in my Lebaron with Erica and Becky and listening to 6'1" on a mix tape that Erica had made. This was before I thought she sucked and was still girl crushing on her. Anyway, it was amazing how many of the lyrics I knew and how much the audience knew. One girl got to sing back ups on "Flower" and it rocked. AND, Liz Phair still looks wicked hot. I didn't look that hot at 20, never mind 40.



On Saturday, I got up early again and went out running. I was trying for 4 miles, but my stomach wasn't cooperating and I had to settle for the Tufts loop, watching all the students move back in, lugging cars full of futon mattresses and cds and plastic totes filled with clothes. We spent some time reading and then took the train into Boston to go to The Feast of St. Anthony in the North End. It's celebrated each year in the North End of Boston on the weekend of the last Sunday of August. Begun by Italian immigrants from Montefalcione, Italy, in 1919, it has become the largest Italian Religious Festival in New England.



We walked around and visited the Old North Church and through the stands of Sicilian rice balls and ziti and zeppoles, and oh my God, it smelled so good. It was hot and crowded, though, so we decided not to eat on the street and ate at a tiny restaurant off the main Hanover Street path. YG and I drank a bottle of Proseco and the MG had the pasta with alfredo sauce she's wanted for months. On the way back to Haymarket, we stopped at North End Park and watched people play in the fountains. It was warm and beautiful out, so we kicked off our shoes and splashed around too. There are probably people in this world who will never let their kids play in a city fountain because they're concerned about germs or some shit like that. I hope I'm never one of them.





On Sunday, we decided to go to the beach. I guess YG was tired of hearing me bitch about no beach time this summer or he was dying for some water himself, but we got up early, left the house at 7:30 and were sitting at a breakfast place on the beach in York, Maine by 9 a.m. After coffee and pancakes, we drove over to Short Sands Beach and set up our blanket and umbrella. To use every cliche in the book, it was a bright blue day without a cloud in the sky. We read books and alternated taking the MG in the water. It was so cold that it made my face and ears ache every time I jumped under water, but I managed to go in a few times. It's probably the last time this year that I'll swim in the ocean, and I wanted to savor it. The MG played too, staying in with me until our lips turned blue.



We stayed about four hours, and then drove up and down the strip, before stopping at Brown's Ice Cream where I had the root beer float I've been craving all summer. More pictures are here. We left around 4 and were back in Cambridge by 5:30. We all took showers and then walked up to Greek Corner for dinner. YG and I were tired and giddy and spent some time on Operation:Undo Stupid Things Your Mother Has Told You before getting the MG home and in bed. We watched Fight Club with my boyfriend, Edward Norton, and passed out.

This morning, YG got up first and went for a twenty mile bike ride. I went out next, running first down Mass Ave to the Charles where I ran along the river and watched all the people in kayaks and row boats before heading back up Sparks Street and all the pretty mansions in Huron Village. 6.17 miles in all, my first run registered on my September calendar.

We decided to have a big lunch, rather than dinner and YG barbecued a steak and we cooked up corn on the cob and heirloom tomatoes and laid out a spread of cheese and fancy jellies we bought up at Stonewall Kitchen in Maine. We ate out on the porch with glasses of wine and flip flops. YG worked on some school stuff. I finished the book, Local Girls, that I started yesterday. Overall, it was pretty awful, but short enough for me not to care.

We took naps and then walked up to Diesel where YG journaled and I worked on my story for class. This week's assignment is to write a character sketch. I'm writing about one of my old bosses. I had iced tea and a lemon square, and the MG played Nintendo. And now we're all back here, wishing the weekend wasn't over.

I realize that I'm not very interesting when I'm relatively sane and happy, but I'm thankful for the good weekend and am sure that sane and happy won't last long. Although this week is my birthday so that promises to be fun.

Other things I am working on:

* I am officially embarking on what I'm naming, "The Quarter of No Spending." YG and I are trying to save money so that we have options for any number of things -- new home, new jobs, new family members, etc. I have somehow gotten the idea that I am an insane overspender, throwing away my family's fortune on material goods in an attempt to buy happiness that cannot replace the big, gaping hole in my soul. This may or may not be true, but I have been feeling unhappy about the amount of money I spend on clothes and shoes and books, when I have closets spilling out clothes with tags on them and books lined up on bookshelves actually made of books I haven't read yet. Crazy, no?

So I'm not spending. For a quarter. I read Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping when I was still living in NJ and I was alternately impressed and horrified, considering not shopping for a year akin to psychological torture. So I'm shortening my experiment to 3 months, and I'm limiting my "not spending" to new clothes, shoes, books, and cds. I will still spend mightily on my hair, my waxing, pedicures and fancy champagne at Clink because I am not a martyr and/or crazy. Plus, I need to reap some kind of reward from having a corporate sell out job. Loopholes include gift cards, so if you're reading this and plan on giving me a birthday present, gift cards would be oh so nice.

I want to see where this goes and how much exactly I can save in 3 months.

* The other thing I'm doing is trying to make do with the very much I have. I'm trying to get rid of everything that makes me feel like a fat lard ass, and I'm taking pictures of myself in things that I've liked and feel good in and have gotten compliments in. I've started posting them in Outfits I Have Enjoyed. Right now there are no pants. I hate pants. I will not buy new pants.

And yes, I am aware that posting photos of myself on the Internet in clothes I like is the height of narcissism.

* Trying to formulate a brilliant post about Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters:The Frightening New Normalcy of Hating Your Body. This book was such a revelation. I think everyone should read it. Still trying to write about it.

* Listening to: The two covers albums by Cat Power and The Weepies' Hideaway. I am so old and lame and never get exposed to good music anymore. The Weepies have been around since 2004? Why did I not know this?

* Hoping for: another month or so of good weather. I can't believe it's September 1 already.

Waiting

For the future president of the United States to come on t.v. and accept his nomination. I've found it hard to read the coverage this week without feeling teary and incredibly proud of this country. FWIW, I've always been a registered Independent and am a cynic, but I believe in this man and I believe we can change. Tonight is going to be awesome.

What I Wrote En Route to San Francisco

I haven't really felt like blogging lately for good and bad reasons. The bad is that I have been a bit "in the crazy" of late. I'm feeling pretty stuck career wise and "life plan" for lack of a better expression wise, and I have dealt with this by bitching, eating and shopping. Not cool. Although yellow patent leather flats and John Fleuvogs are never technically not cool.

The good news is that my writing classes started up again so I've been devoting most of my extra writing time to that. It's a humorous writing class so I'm having a lot of fun with it. Last week's assignment was to tell a funny anecdote about yourself in 450 words or less. I wrote about the time I got a pushpin stuck in my ass at work. This week's assignment was to write a letter too honest to send in 500 words and make it funny. I tried multiple different pieces. One to the people at church telling them why I didn't want to teach Sunday school this year, but I felt too guilty about it. The next one I tried was a letter to the MG honestly answering her question, "do you like my mom?" but again, bitter and not too funny. I finally settled on one to my ex-husband that I'll be reading tomorrow night.

Anyway, in lieu of having to think about what I want to say about the Convention and Michelle's speech and the fantastic book I'm reading, I'm just going to copy what I wrote on the plane to San Francisco.

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En route to San Francisco and I can't sleep. I just finished reading Marisa de los Santos' Love Walked In. I expected it to be light and breezy and parts of it were, but I couldn't stop crying near the end. I guess "heartwarming" would be the word if you could stomach it. It made me feel happy. But also teary because there's just so much STUFF churning beneath the surface that is me -- family, the babies I'm not pregnant with, work, purpose -- that I generally like to keep neat and contained. But then I read a book or hear somebody's sad story or even happy story, and I'm bursting open.

I've been sobbing -- SOBBING! -- at the Olympics because all that winning or achievement and that culmination of the practice and hard work -- it's something to watch. Even if it's something as mundane (to me) as being the best badminton player in the world, hey, at least you're the best at something and you picked a path and you worked hard and you achieved. My path or path(s) are all over the place. And this is usually around the time in my life that I go back to school because I know how to achieve on that path and the recognition is quick and simple. Nobody gives me straight As for showing up and trying at the rest of my life, ya know?

All this would make you think that I'm unhappy. But I'm not. Really. Just sort of ...full. I start writing classes again next week so that should help. Of course, it's humorous writing so the timing's off. I've been writing all these funny vignettes for all my other classes this past year, and now I want to write about my grandparents' dying and my divorce and the addiction and the self-loathing and it just doesn't seem to lend itself well to humor.

And I know me. I am not one to talk about important things with people that matter. I've been going to shrinks for years and I still make them drag "what's wrong?" out of me, fighting tool and nail. These are people that I PAY to talk to about important things. So when I feel the churn and the need to tell YG that I love him so much that it makes me cry sometimes and that I miss living near my family and that I love my friends and my cats and that I want to be somebody important, I want to seize on it and capitalize on it before it goes away and regular me comes back.

A friend at work called me a "m&m" and I didn't really get it, but as he explained, "hard and crunch on the outside, soft of the inside," I think it's probably about as apt a description as you're going to get. It's because I cried a little when our boss moved back to England. Not because we were great friends and not because I really know him at all, but because we had a "normal" going in our little group, and as dysfunctional as we can be, normal is comfortable. And nice. And these were the first people I "knew" when I moved to Boston so they're different than other work colleagues. So I cried a little. And then m&m. Appropriate.

The always question is why I feel the need to maintain this image of myself as cool and removed and sometimes fiery, but also unemotional. It's not like I think those are great things to strive for. They just are. I can watch somebody else have a total meltdown and really feel for them, but if I display even one tear, people will wonder why I am such an unglued mess, or worse, they will want to TALK or HUG. Ick.

Minor example. I lent YG's sister my copy of Eat, Pray, Love. Their other sister is reading it and loves it, and I loved it, even though, as a writer, I found it a bit unfinished or premature. But I found it relatable for precisely the reason most other people do -- you're in the middle of some fucked up self loathing and self doubt and you don't know what's what and here's this book written by somebody your age and you relate. Pretty much everyone I've talked to, even if they hated that book, found something to relate to. But when I saw my book walking out the door with my multiple underlines and stars and "Yes!'s, what did I think? I thought, "oh my god, I seriously hope I didn't write something totally retarded in the margins." Because I have no feelings. Or problems. Obviously.

So, we start our descent into the land of fruits and nuts, where everybody talks about their feelings. Seriously. There's something about this place. I talk to people here. On the street, in stores, in restaurants. OR they talk to me and I give something back in return, sometimes not grudgingly. I'm going to write out here, or at least be fully present with YG and MG. I am happy to be on my vacation.

And of course, San Francisco was wonderful. And of course, my verbal diarrhea disappeared in a few days and I'm back to being crotchety.

Note to Self

Next time you pack your gym bag for work, make sure you remember to pack your sports bra. You need it. You may think that you can go running in your regular bra and let it "air out" while you take a shower. You can't. It's hotter out than you think. You're going to sweat through the thing and can't put it back on. Plus, your boobs hurt. You're going to end up spending the rest of the day bra-less in a cable knit, v-neck sweater. At work. With a D Cup. Remember how comfortable that feeling was and pack the sports bra.