Jaimes and I, after much thought and consideration, are making some unconventional choices in our plans for raising our baby. I haven't written or talked much about this, because, having grown up in the Midwest, I generally seek to avoid confrontation. In their unconventionality, and because people seem to have strong opinions in general on child-rearing, I felt that our choices might spark some level of confrontation or, at the very least, disdain.

For all that, in a moment of rash abandon, I've decided to have out. Here it is, out in the open, a rough road map for the next several months and years:

• I'm working full time now, and will up until the birth, but do not plan to return to my job afterwards. When the baby is a little bigger I will start doing more massage out of my home studio, and will continue to teach some small amount of private dance lessons from our home as well.


• We're planning on a home birth.


• I plan to breastfeed exclusively (no cereals, juices, water, or other foods) for the first half-year, and to continue breastfeeding for quite some time after that.


• We are considering "elimination communication" instead of traditional potty training.


• We plan to sleep with our baby in our bed.


• We are not planning to own strollers - rather, we will get slings to carry the baby on our own bodies. We are both strong believers in the power of touch from a very young age.


• I had an ultrasound at 17 weeks, but due to some concern about the advisability of exposing the baby to ultrasound unneedlessly I will not get another one (except in the case of some unforeseen problem with the pregnancy or suspected problems in the course of fetal development). It is for this reason that we do not know the sex of our baby, and may not know until the birth.


• While we may vaccinate at some point, especially in light of Jaimes's possible world travels, we are going to hold off for the first several years.


• I am in a committed caring relationship with the father of my baby, but we are not married and have no plans to marry in the near future. It is likely that we will give the baby my last name.

Yesterday I saw An Inconvenient Truth, the global warming documentary featuring Al Gore. It was good, although for my taste it was a little heavy on the scare-side, with almost no mention of what we can or should be doing to address global warming now. I found it slightly interesting/ironic that they chose, numerous times throughout the film, to feature a shot of Gore looking all pensive and thoughtful, riding in a car. This is a documentary about the frightening effects of CO2 emissions, and here we have this recurring shot of Gore, the primary focus point, over and over again in his car.

On a related note, there was an interesting article in the NYTimes today about a small town in Indiana trying to make serious inroads in achieving energy independence: One Farm Town's Drive for Energy Independence.

The future of the organic label is looking dim.

From The New York Times today, The Way We Live Now: Mass Natural, an article on the impact that Wal-Mart's push towards "organic" may have on the industry and on the worldwide organic farm economy.

Frankly, I find it disheartening and scary that our government's definition of a single word, "organic", might have such far-reaching impact on a market that has been steadily growing over several decades and that I strongly subscribe to. And I've always found Wal-Mart's relationship with and treatment of its vendors to be decidedly abject (along with its behavior in any other number of arenas - this is why I have not shopped at Wal-Mart for over 10 years, and have no plans to step into one again any time soon). The article does bring up some interesting positive outcomes that I hadn't considered, though, among them a drop in world exposure to pesticides and other nasties that our government (and/or others) are slow to regulate or ban on their own.

Some previous information:

Compiled from The Organic Consumers Association: Campaigning for Health, Justice, and Sustainability (a great site to keep up on what's going on with the organic industry and what you can do to help safeguard it), compiled from their pages devoted to safeguarding organic standards:

ALERT: INDUSTRY SNEAK ATTACK ON ORGANIC STANDARDS - USDA ANNOUNCES BRIEF PUBLIC COMMENT PERIOD
The USDA has announced a very short public comment period (ends May 12, 2006) on a proposal to amend the
National Organic Program (read the proposal here) in a manner that would weaken organic standards. The USDA's actions were requested by a very small handful of Republican members of Congress. Take action now and tell the USDA you support strong organic standards!

In late 2005, despite receiving over 350,000 letters and phone calls from OCA members and the organic
community, Republican leaders in Congress attached a rider to the 2006 Agricultural Appropriations Bill to
weaken the nation's organic food standards in response to pressure from large-scale food manufacturers.

This rider was voted on in conference committee. Here is a list of the members of that committee who pushed this rider through:

Sen Robert Bennett (R-UT)
Sen. Thad Cochran (R-MS)
Sen. Arlen Specter (R-PA)
Sen. Kit Bond (R-MO)
Sen. Mitch McConnell (R-KY)
Sen. Conrad Burns (R-MT)
Sen. Larry Craig (R-ID)
Sen. Sam Brownback (R-KS)

"Congress voted to weaken the national organic standards that consumers count on to preserve the integrity of the organic label," said Ronnie Cummins, National Director of the Organic Consumers Association. "The process was profoundly undemocratic and the end result is a serious setback for the multi billion dollar alternative food and farming system
that the organic community has so painstakingly built up over the past 35 years.

As passed, the amendment sponsored by the Organic Trade Association allows: Numerous synthetic food additives and processing aids, including over 500 food contact substances, to be used in organic foods without public review. Young dairy cows to continue to be treated with antibiotics and fed genetically engineered feed prior to being converted to organic production. Loopholes under which non-organic ingredients could be substituted for organic ingredients without any notification of the public based on "emergency decrees." OCA will work to reverse this rider with an "Organic Restoration Act" in Congress in 2006.

Background of the Sneak Attack
After 35 years of hard work, the U.S. organic community has built up a multi-billion dollar alternative to industrial agriculture, based upon strict organic standards and organic community control over modification to these standards.

Now, large corporations, such as Kraft, Wal-Mart, & Dean Foods--aided and abetted by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) and members of the Organic Trade Association, have succesfully weakened organic standards by allowing Bush appointees in the USDA National Organic Program to take away the National Organic Standards Board’s (NOSB) traditional lead jurisdiction in setting standards. What this means, in blunt terms. is that USDA bureaucrats and industry lobbyists, not consumers, will have near total control over what can go into organic foods and products.

WHAT'S AT STAKE
Organic Standards Under Fire:
Agribusiness front groups, such as the Farm Bureau, big food corporations like Kraft, biotech companies such as Monsanto, right-wing think tanks, such as the Hudson Institute, and industry-friendly government agencies have consistently tried to undermine organic standards and get the USDA to allow conventional chemical-intensive and factory farm practices on organic farms. Unless strict organic standards are maintained, consumers will lose faith in the organic label.

Federal Funding for Organics:
The current five year $220 billion US Farm Bill allocates less than $5 million annually for organic research, promotion and marketing...approximately one-hundredth of one percent. This means that Congress is using billions of our tax dollars to reward chemical-intensive, factory farm style operations, while penalizing non-chemical farmers. This, despite
the fact that organic food has been the fasting growing segment in the food marketplace for over 13 years. To move beyond using pesticides, chemicals and genetically modified seeds, conventional farmers need government subsidies and conversion programs that prioritize local and regional organic production. These misguided priorities must be reversed in the upcoming 2007 Farm Bill.

Preserving Organic Farms and Consumer Choice:
Genetically Engineered (GE) crops pose a serious pollution threat to organic food and farms. Windblown pollen from GE crops and commingling of seeds in grain elevators or transport vehicles are contaminating organic farms and seed stocks of corn, soy, cotton and canola. The OCA is calling for strict legal liability on all GE crops utilizing the "polluter pays" principle, to protect the property rights of farmers growing organic or non-GE crops. The OCA is also calling for mandatory labeling on GE foods- similar to laws already in place in Europe and other countries- so that consumers have a choice whether or not to buyGE foods.

And another NYTimes article published on May 12, 2006, eyeing Walmart's proposed organic shift: Wal-Mart Eyes Organic Foods.

Just one week ago I was worried that I hadn't felt the baby kick, and now the little critter won't stop moving!

Sometimes it makes me laugh, this sudden "blick!" in my belly, not always at the most opportune of times.

Dance, dance, dance.

I am feeling really well these days, very happy and healthy. Jaimes and I went to the midwife yesterday and heard the baby's heart beating - so fast and strong, crazy that there's this new being growing inside me!

We felt it kick for the first time just this week too. I hadn't
felt anything and was getting worried, so I found some advice online that suggested I lie down, put my feet up, and play music for my stomach - and lo and behold, with the music, there was a rhythmic thump! thump! down in the lower part of my abdomen. So already, we have a musical baby.

Very pretty, but very strange.

According to Seattle's own King5 News, Pregnancy makes women smarter.

Becoming a mother clearly changes a woman's body, but it also appears to have surprising effects on the brain, too. . ."We're seeing what we think are significant changes in information processing," said Dr. Craig Kinsley.

I haven't felt it move yet.

Oh Baby!

From Amazing Pregnancy.com's due date calculator:

You are 16 weeks into your pregnancy,
and you have 24 weeks to go.

103 days have passed since the conception,
and you are 163 days before your due date.

The Baby:
This may be the week you feel your baby move. This is sometimes called "quickening" It's been described as a "flutter" or "butterflies". Don't be too worried if you don't feel it yet. It may be as late as your 20th week before you feel those first little flutters. The lanugo hair is present, and covers your baby's head and body. Your baby is still growing and this week measures about 4.5 inches long, and weighs almost 3 ounces!

My dad is sorely behind the times.

I was telling him the other night about how great Christa has been through my pregnancy, warm and nurturing, really looking out for me. Running off right after she found out to research pregnancy nutrition, making sure I'm eating well, making sure I'm taking care of myself. He asked, "Well, has she tried to get you to stop smoking?"

Umm...

"I don't smoke any more," I responded.

"Really?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Yes, really," I said, "I haven't smoked for over three years."

"I just thought you were hiding it from us," he said.

Thinking back, the potential landlady jerked me around the first time I interacted with her, too, so I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was on Monday night.

When I first noticed the ad for the house, I called to say I was interested in renting. She asked that I drive by and take a look to see what I thought. I did, and thought it was great! I called back right away to tell her that and to schedule an appointment to see the inside... and she said that she hadn't known how to tell me during the first conversation, but at that time she was already checking references on someone she planned to rent to.

Why did she have me waste my time following up on it and driving by if she was already planning on renting it? Not a nice thing to do.

So then a week later she called back and said the other renter had fallen through, and was I still interested ... and that's where this tale ends, and the other one begins. (I wonder what his story was, and if it was any nicer than mine.)

I have a house now. I found a new rental to share with Jaimes. It's okay, not great. But it will work for him to teach dance, for me to do massage, and for us to both live in reasonable comfort for a while.

It's not the house I wanted. There was another house, not even a block away, that I fell in love with last week. I talked to the landlady, filled out an application, and even put a deposit down. Everything was looking good.

Then, Monday night, she called me to turn me down.

Earlier in the day on Monday, she had called my current landlord, who was busy with something, and couldn't really talk at that moment. Added to that, he was slightly taken by surprise, as I haven't given any notice yet. (I'm not planning on moving out for a while, and was thinking I might keep this room for a few months concurrently. Chris has a friend getting out of the military fairly soon who wants the room, so to keep from screwing Chris and Jake on rent in the meanwhile I was strongly considering keeping it until his friend got out, or at the very least taking the initiative to find a subletter for that period. Chris and Jake want to maintain the lease even after I leave, so there was no reason to give full notice to the landlord.)

So anyway, this woman, the potential new landlady, was a little put off by that, and wanted something more. To appease her, I told her I would look up the name and number for the landlord I had before I moved to the U-District, a few years back, on Capitol Hill, and I would sort things out with the current landlord as well.

I looked up the number for the old landlord, tried to call him to warn him she might call, but got a machine and left a message.

I also talked to my current landlord and sorted things out with him, and he wanted very much to talk to her again and give her a good reference for me. He had called back on his own but hadn't been able to reach her.

This done, I called the potential landlady back, gave her the number for the old landlord, and told her that I had sorted things out with the current landlord and he wanted to speak with her again. She thanked me and we hung up.

So a few hours later, she called back again. This time, she was super-condescending. She said that if she ever wanted someone for computer work, she would hire me, but she couldn't ever imagine renting to me. Over and over again, she told me that I am young. That maybe I'll grow out of it. She hit on the "you are young" thing like 6 times.

"I'm 28!," I thought to myself. "What is her problem?" I was confused and upset - this was my dream house, and I had practically moved in in my mind, and here she was ripping me down - but I remained polite and responsive for the duration of the conversation.

She said, "Let me give you some advice. Before you give out references, you should check with people to see what they will say." I told her that I had, had she even tried calling my current landlord again? He had wanted to talk to her when he had bandwidth, and he had good things to say - but she responded that she hadn't, and she wasn't interested in doing so.

"What??? Where was all of this coming from?," I thought. "My current landlord is happy with me. My old landlord was happy with me, as far as I knew - granted I hadn't been able to speak with him directly that day, but we had a good relationship when I left Capitol Hill." She wasn't telling me anything concrete about what swung her opinion so drastically this way - for all I know, it was simply because I hadn't given notice to my current landlord.

I asked if there's any chance she would call my current landlord a second time, or reconsider, and she said no. She told me that she's going to take the house off the market for now, that the current tenants are changing their time frame a bit, and she'll just wait until May to rent it to take the pressure off herself. That was pretty much the end of the conversation.

I cried a little bit afterwards, because it was pretty hurtful.

Then I went back to looking up places and tracking down landlords, starting again at square one. What else could I do?

That same night, I visited another place which wasn't ideal, but could work. That landlady took very strongly to me, and for whatever reason, really, really wanted to rent to me specifically over others who were interested in the place. I told her I was interested, and we agreed to talk again the next day.

As an aside, that night while I was looking through places, I noticed that the landlady who turned me down had posted her house for rent again, but with the rent cut by $100/mo. Ouch. Not only does she specifically not want me, but she's so desperate to rent it out that she's dropping the price to get anyone else she can.

Ouch.

Back to the new place - I slept on everything that night, and in the morning I woke up feeling that although it could work, it wouldn't be good long term. It's on the verge of too-small as is, it would definitely be too small once the baby is born, and she was adamant about a year lease so that would lock is in for the first half-year after the birth. So when she called again I told her that while I was interested, I couldn't do it.

But she wanted me so much that she offered different lease terms that worked better for me. Enough so that yesterday I signed with her for a short term lease, just for the summer. It will be fine for that long, to get us by, and we'll have more time to find something that really works. It will also be good for her, as it will put the rental on schedule for her to find a student renter in the fall when school is starting up.

Then...

This morning...

The old landlord from Capitol Hill called me. I didn't answer the phone the first time, but he called three times - must be important? - so I went to see who it was and answered. He said that some woman had called him a few days ago and asked about me, but he didn't catch the first name and he confused me with some other girl who had also lived there, same last name but spelled a little differently. Some Janet Kruger, who had been a disaster, and had mistakenly given me a poor reference because he misunderstood who she was asking about. (I think he had just gotten my original phone message and realized the mistake.)

So everything makes a little more sense now, but I still feel really rotten about the whole thing, and about how rude this potential landlady was on Monday.

He asked me if I'd like him to call her and explain. I said yes. Because, even though it won't make a difference now, part of me hopes she hears from him and feels a little twinge of guilt for being so rude. Nasty woman.

Really, everything conspiring the way it did, I think the universe was trying to tell me that this was not the place to be. Better trouble now than after the lease is signed, you know? But it's not what I wanted to hear.

As you have probably noted from the tone of this post, I am still worrying the wound a bit. I liked that house. I was hurt at how she treated me.

Oh well, life goes on. So must I.

Anyways, I have a different house now. And it's not a perfect house, not exactly everything we were hoping for, but it's good, and it will serve us well for five months.

Pirates are the new ninjas. Remember when ninjas were all in? Now they're out. It's pirates all the way these days.

How come it took me so long to catch on?

Happy birthday me!

No party this year. Last year's "breakfast with friends outside at a sunny cafe" landed on such a rainy, windy, miserable day that I'm not quite up to doing that again. Besides, a small celebration every four to five years seems to suit me well. Maybe I should have been a leap-year baby.

Still getting bigger and bigger. My family sent me maternity clothes for my birthday, and they are so wonderful! At first, I put the pants on, and I thought they would be too big - there was a lot of extra room. But then, after half a minute or so, my whole body went wooooshhhhhh and settled down into them, and they fit perfectly, and it felt soooo good. I hadn't realized how much my other clothes must have been constraining me. Time to go shopping. Seriously. Maybe today.

I think I may have found a new house! I've been looking for several weeks for a place that will work for Jaimes to teach dance, for me to do massage, and for us both to live and raise a baby, within a certain budget in a very specific neighborhood. It's been a pain the butt, and has sucked up almost every ounce of my free time. In a month and a half, I have spent countless hours combing the internet and have visited over 70 places. Nothing's certain yet, the landlord is still checking references and no lease has been signed, but I think this may be "the place". What a relief that would be.

Between that, though, and setting up, finding space for, and handling registration for Jaimes's upcoming class series, I think I may have nearly conqured my phone phobia. I have made so many phone calls these last few months I have lost count. My heart no longer catches in my chest when I have to dial a number to speak to some stranger at another organization or venue or renting some other space or apartment. Here I am about to bring a kid into the world, and I'm still growing up myself.

Isn't it fitting that my birthday this year falls on the UK's Mothering Sunday?

pants (part 2)

You know what will make you feel fat? When you go to put on your pants and the button pops off and goes flying across the room.

I guess it's time
to make time
to go shopping.

You know our country is struggling with some serious systematic issues when China is the one pointing its finger at US for human rights violations (and has some valid points).

12 weeks in,
10 pounds heavier
and I have no pants that fit anymore

I'm afraid to buy new ones
because they'll stop fitting in a month, too

I've been told more and more frequently
that I am beautiful and looking super-cute
I don't know if it's the "glow" or not
it's certainly not the wardrobe

On Smoking (An interesting opposing viewpoint to current society hype)

I'm sure there's a good reason, evoluntionarily speaking, for this whole pregnancy sickness thing, but I'm getting really sick of hanging over the bloody toilet puking my guts out all the bloody time.

It took me three and a half hours to drive home from work today. Three and a half hours. I work 14 miles from my home.

When I left work, it took me 50 minutes to get from the 40th St on-ramp onto 520 to get to 405. This normally takes about 5 minutes. 10, maybe, on a bad day. By that time, I had figured out the reason for the back-up -- the 520 bridge was closed "due to high winds". 405 South had a crazy stop and go wait line to even get on the highway, so I figured I'd take 405 North. It would maybe take a little longer, but if it was moving, it was an improvement; I was starting to get really tired of sitting still.

405 North was moving maybe 20-40 miles an hour. So I'm driving on my merry way, when I see a sign that says highway 522 to Seattle, or something like that. I'm not familiar with this highway, I had thought I would drive all the way to the intersection with I-5, but at this point I'm pretty sure I'm farther north than the upper edge of Lake Washington and it's probably a good shortcut over.

Except that it's the worst shortcut ever.

It's more stop and go than the highway has been. Turns out it's a city highway, with traffic lights every few blocks, and traffic is barely moving. I could walk 10 times faster. But I keep hoping it will get better - I'm an optimist, yo. At one point, I stop at a red light, and some asshole comes blazing up behind me, honking his horn, actually bumps his car into mine, and then pulls squealing around me to run the red light. Yeah. Being an asshole is going to get you there way faster. Dumbass. At this point I am starting to get pretty stressed out myself. And angry. There is this little ball of anger growing in my stomach. Not too near the baby, I hope, because that can't be nice stuff to sit near.

Did I mention that I'm starting to get really hungry? And that when I get hungry, I get morning-sick? So in addition to being just plain old pissed off, I'm getting really nauseous.

Nearly an hour later, maybe 5 or 10 miles from my starting point on 405, I think - what if there's a parallel road just to the south and it's less crowded? So I work my way south, hoping to continue making my way east and south into Seattle on a road that is actually moving, but I get my directions all switched around and before I know it I'm back on 405. Except I'm 10 miles further south than I was when I left it. So I decide to go south after all - it's several hours later now anyways, the traffic should be getting better, right? Except that it's not. It's still stop and go. There are 5 accidents that I pass on the way. Everyone else is angry and stressed out and driving like shit. When traffic finally starts moving a bit, people are all driving like asses. 5-10 SUVs cut me off along the way. I guess I should feel lucky that I didn't get in any accidents myself.

Finally got home, only to find that I had missed a lesson I was supposed to teach by about 5 minutes, and the guy had come and gone.

When I left work, I meant to drive home, stop at the store, pick up some produce, meat, and cook up a nice dinner. I was planning to have such a relaxing evening. But now the evening's almost done, I haven't eaten anything, I messed up with my lesson, my body is all cramped and freaking out from sitting in the car for 3 1/2 hours, and everything's shot.

At this point, I am angry, irrational, feeling sick, upset, and can't handle anything. Everything and everybody pisses me off for no reason at all. I storm around a little bit, look in the refridgerator for something to eat, get frustrated, kick the fridge, drop to the floor, and cry hysterically for a while.

Well.

I'm done crying now, and feeling a bit more rational. But I'm still angry and upset. And for what? For a stupid drive that took a little too long? Yeah, that's worth it. Really.

I hate when negative emotions take me hostage like this. I hate being so, so angry. And feeling helpless. And being irrational and emotional and freaking out my roommates with my self-indulgent tantrum.

Is this hormones? Or is it traffic? Or is it just me?

I'd be happy really, never to drive again. Once I stop working on the east side, I don't think I will ever really want to go back. People over there can come over here. I don't want to have to cross those stupid bridges again.

My dog has taken to doing this super-cute thing where, sometimes the cat will just get too much under his skin and he'll lose control and lunge toward it, maybe a foot or two in that general direction, growling madly -

but then, before he gets anywyere, he thinks to himself, "Bad dog!" and banishes himself to my bedroom for half an hour or so. This is without anyone else saying anything at all. After due time he will come out again, penitent and ready to be a peaceful member of the household.

Louie will be glad that, in just a day or two, the cat's owners will come to collect it.

In other news, my employer didn't pay me again this pay period. @#$@%.

w00t!

Last week, I turned in the last of my outstanding assignments for school.

Today, I retook the SOAP Charting portion of my Advanced Massage Practical Exam, and...I passed!

So now, I just wait until they've finished grading the work I handed in, and then I will graduate! They will send me a diploma! How crazy is that?

There are still certification exams to take (and pass) before I can practice in WA, of course, but look! I'm almost there!

I am becoming two separate people.

One is confident, excited, espousing to friends and family my joy and enthusiasm. Animated, purposeful. Planning, saving, building. A strong face, and a public face.

The other is fearful. Worried. This is a private face, only shows when I am alone. When I am this person, I feel as if I am an inferior man-made structure facing an unyielding storm. My levies are leaking, creaking with the weight of the water. In these private moments I cry, I rock myself back and forth, I feel the ground slipping beneath me.

What does it mean, that these facets of myself are becoming more distinct? Could this separation be an expression of underlying weakness? I do believe that it is good for parents to show their children strength, unification, sureness and conviction. To be able to take their doubts and hesitations and keep them private so the child can feel assured and safe. And here I am, on the road to parenthood. But at what point does it become unhealthy, too much, an unnatural and dangerous separation?

...admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

- Bob Dylan, The Times They Are A-Changin'

I spent last weekend down in Portland at a tango festival. It was nice, being active, out and dancing.

At one of the dances, I stopped and said hello to an acquaintance from California. She smiled at me. "I've been great! How are y-" She stopped short, her eyes wide, staring at my belly. "When did that happen?"

I looked down at my belly, then back at her, then back again to my belly (not really all that much bigger than it always has been). "You can see?"

She nodded.

Turns out she has a friend who is about as far along as I am, but still. This is the first time anyone has noticed just by sight.

San Francisco may soon become the first major city to offer free wireless access to all its residents. How awesome is that?

Family Planning

I'll have made it throught the period of greatest risk for birth defects (5-10 weeks) in 1 week and 5 days. By then of the kid's major organs will have formed.

Second trimester begins March 15, 2006. Almost there! Just 4 weeks to go and the risk for miscarriage will drop dramatically. Happily, my morning sickness and fatigue should start getting better.

Third trimester begins June 28, 2006.

!!! !!! !!! Estimated due date: !!! !!! !!!
       Tuesday, September 26, 2006.

That would make my baby a Libra.

Susie says that September is a good month for babies, as all of the following (and she herself) were born in September: Roald Dahl, "Jelly Roll" Morton, H. G. Wells, John Coltrane, William Faulkner, George Gershwin, T.S. Eliot, Ivan Pavlov, Elizabeth I (Queen of England), D.H.Lawrence, and O. Henry.

Our state recently passed a law that prohibits smoking indoors at bars, restaurants, and other public venues.

I hate it.

Why do I hate it? Because I am an avid smoker? No. I haven't smoked for years. Because I feel it infringes on my personal freedom or that of my friends? Not that either. I hate it because it, ultimately, brings the smoke out to me.

Bar patrons who cannot smoke inside congregate outside on the sidewalks to smoke. Our streets are becoming smokey and nasty, and I'm doubly sensitive to it right now as I am pregnant.

In the past, if I didn't want to be around the smoke, I could choose not to enter establishments that allowed smoking. Now I have no choice. It's there on the street en masse.

Update from the trenches

I've started getting the dreaded morning sickness. As if that weren't enough, last week I picked up a flu. The moment the flu abated, I came down with a nasty cold, which I'm still trying to kick.

I'm tired of being sick all the time.

Just once, I'd like to wake up without fighting the urge to run to the bathroom and puke my guts out. And I'd like to sleep later. I am waking up at 5:00 am, 6:00 am, all so that I can spend more time in the morning feeling miserable. Try as I might I can't sleep it off.

Another problem with waking up so early is that I'm crashing earlier at night. 8:00 pm, 9:00 pm roll around and I'm fighting off sleep but it's a losing battle. I don't remember the last time I made it out dancing for anything other than the dance I run - I can't swing it because it's past my bedtime.

I have the strange inkling that I am becoming less fun. What's this about pregnant women having a glow? How do they manage it when they're sick half the time and tired and cranky so early at night?

Sorry for freaking you out, by the way, if you're one of the people who freaked out at the original post.

I mean, really, can't someone deliver news framed with unique, unexpected context without everyone assuming that the news must be bad? I mean, I guess not, considering the responses I've gotten. But it is good news! Really. Seriously.

It's a good thing, by the way. "Congratulations" is an appropriate response - I am so, so excited! My last post didn't really convey it, but you cannot even begin to imagine the level of my excitement. I'm going to be a mother! We're going to provide well for the child and set up a very positive situation for it. Everything is coming together, the future is bright and wonderful, la de la la la. Really.

I have been mopping up blood
from my arm
from the swipe
from the cat we are now catsitting
who is PISSED OFF to be here
and just finished cleaning up piss
a puddle signifying rebellion and revolt
on the living room floor
from the dog
who is PISSED OFF that the cat is here.

oh, and I'm pregnant.

Word from the DJ booth.

Tomorrow I DJ in Portland. I'm a little excited, a little nervous, and a little underwhelmed, all at the same time. I know those sound like maybe they can't all fit together, but somehow they do.

I'm tired. Wondering how I'm going to get enough sleep, wake up as early as I need to, get my work done, get down to Portland, and be rested enough to do well.

Do you get everything done you mean to?

I never do.

My list is, like, 500 things long. Maybe 600. I polish off 5 or 6 each day, or maybe 12 or 15 if it's a really good day, but then there are 12 more I hoped to get to that day but didn't and now I have to put them off for tomorrow. On top of that, another 10 came up out of the blue to add to the queue.

There are chores I've been meaning to do for nearly a decade. Would you believe that there are boxes I packed up 6 years ago that I've moved around with me from apartment to apartment, but haven't gone through in all that time? Well, if you know me well, yes, you would believe that. But still. How sad is that? I always think, "tomorrow", or "next weekend", but then somehow next weekend comes and goes and I never had any of the free time I was expecting and counting on.

It's been drought season for spare time for years now. When will it flood? What will I do when the rains come? Will the rains ever come? What I wouldn't do for a good rainstorm.

Yawn. A week and a half of work and already I feel so tired and stretched thin. I'm 200% more snappy, on a much shorter fuse than I'm used to.

I've been having bad dreams, too. Doesn't help me to feel more rested.

Or to write with any sort of flow.

Yawn.

Sometimes I have a hard time really being present in the moment I am living. Instead, I find myself caught up in something that happened two weeks ago, or something that could have been (if only this or that had gone differently), working it over and over again in my mind, chewing on it incessantly.

Why is it so hard to be here, right now, content with what I have and what is?

Susie's friend Betsi said rather succinctly in her blog the other day, "It's like playing that stupid mind game where you try really hard not to think about penguins, except in this case not only did I not think about penguins, I forgot what they were, set fire to my shirt, and mailed myself to Hong Kong."

I mean, she was talking about something totally different. But it still works for this. Doesn't it still work? Doesn't it? Except that I'm not on my way to Hong Kong, I'm still wearing my smelly old shirt, and I've got penguins on the brain. Stupid penguins.

I miss China.

7:30 AM and I am awake, without an alarm, even. What is the world coming to?

To be fair, I did sit down on the couch last night around 10:30 PM, and I crashed. Chris was watching TV and Nuvo was hoping I still planned to go dancing and we would leave soon, but I lost consciousness and didn't really regain it again until now. I mean, I moved to the bedroom at some point, but I have no memory of the journey.

Early to bed, early to rise . . . am I just getting old?

Started my new job yesterday. Thus far, I am impressed with everyone I have met. It is such a strange feeling!

I had more to say when I started the post, but I've lost it. Something about intelligent decisions, though, and meetings that address just what they need to and nothing more, and letting anyone who is at all invested in issues be involved in determining the outcome of those issues if they choose, and not wasting other peoples' time, etc, etc, etc.

Really, I'm not sure I understand. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. How can a work environment be almost entirely functional? I thought that only happened in make-believe.

Hello, blog.

. . .

I'm feeling a little shy. Shy? Maybe estranged. It's been a long time.

It's Christmas time. Not Christmas anymore, but still that time of year. Christmas, New Years, holidays, all the humdrum of daily living suspended in time for a period of weeks. January looming. Historically, societally, this is a time of "new beginnings". Joy to the world; a savior is born, time to make amends and examine past mistakes and make resolutions for better living. For me, though, this is more a time of endings.

All the major relationships I have been involved in have drawn to a close around this time. Maybe they ended a little before, maybe they dragged on for a while after, but this is when it really hit home, when I actually understood that it was over.

So it is Christmas time again, and once again a significant chapter of my life is drawing to a close. This has been a pretty momentuous chapter. Many ups, many downs. Two years of love and hate and angst and joy and elation and despair . . . a rainbow of intense emotion ranging all about the spectrum. I haven't really written a lot about this relationship, at least not in public forums. I haven't even spoken about it much except to close friends. It has been the most private relationship I've been involved in. And now it is changing.

Maybe it's all the same, really. Endings, beginnings. You can't have one without the other. One thing passes on that there may be something new. The snow melts so that fresh seedlings might push through the ravaged earth.

I've been crying a lot. I'm sad, but I'm somehow happy in my sadness. Sad in my happiness.

A Bulgarian friend shared a New Years tradition wherein she baked a Bulgarian dish with several tin-foil wrapped fortunes embedded in each slice. Six of us ate together, digging through the layers of noodly dough to find our predictions. I got "Money", "Win from the lottery", and "Finding the lost happiness". She said that if we kept the fortunes, they would come true for us in this new year.

The person I am now wants to childishly believe in fortunes and fate and magic. I whimsically taped these three strips of paper into my wallet so that they would be close to me, so that they could come true.

Money and the lottery have yet to come. Perhaps I will make money when I become a professional gambler, or as I move into a career in massage, or when I complete some things I have been writing. Or maybe I'll become a porn star, famous the world over, rolling in dough. Or maybe it will simply result from winning the lottery. I certainly won't win the lottery, however, until I begin playing the lottery.

But maybe I am on my way right now to finding The Lost Happiness?

When I first read this particular fortune, I thought that maybe it meant that I would find happiness this year [. . . with him].

Now, though, I wonder if I might mean that I will find again some sort of happiness that has been lost in all the drama of these last two years. Perhaps, this year, I may become happy again in a different way.

I mean, I will always be moody and self-involved and angsty, balancing on a rickety teeter-totter moving up and down from one mood to another. I thrive on that up and down and all over the place roller-coaster ride. It feeds a well of inspiration and creativity deep within my core and makes me ultimately feel more alive and engaged.

But in the past, despite this penchance for ups and downs and ins and outs, I have also been happy on some more stable, continuous level, in a way that I haven't been in recent times.

I've had great happiness in recent years. But it has been a slightly different shade, you know? It's like there were a few crayons that fell out of the box and got lost under the bed, and the pictures I've made with the remaining crayons have still been amazing, but I could make other pictures that are differently amazing were I to find those lost crayons again. Not better. Not worse. But different, in a way that has been in the past, but has not been in recent times, for me.

What a mess of words! And I still don't think I've really done justice to what I feel, what I am trying to communicate. Stupid, stupid words. I never have the right ones. They're all lost under the bed or something. This is why I draw pictures, generally, instead of writing.

Anyhow -

I feel right now that my fortune may come true, but in a different way than I had thought.

I've written before that I'm not the sort to deal well with closure. I don't read the last few chapters of books. I fall asleep during movies. I pretend in my head that everything always has been and always will be just as it is right now in this moment. I am terrified of change.

In spite of this fear, I am trying to gracefully let go.

So things are coming to a close.

It is time. It is right - I feel this deep within.

I have felt it for a while, but I didn't know what it was. Now I do. I know. I understand. I will accept.

I will face my fear and embrace change.

Goodbye, 2005.

Goodbye, love of these last two years. I wish you great happiness, and I will always cherish what we have shared. You have been a pivotal force in my life. I look forward to knowing you going forward on different terms - having you as a friend, being a friend, learning to draw lines together in order that we might grow something fresh and beautiful within them.

. . .

Endings leave space for new beginnings. What new things will come?

bugs

i cleaned all the bugs out of our kitchen light fixture today. now it is shiny and light shines freely through the glass. i wish everything defiled, disarrayed,
 debased,
  decayed

could be so easily made functional and new again. unblemished, unsullied, uncontaminated, unpolluted, unimpaired. unbroken.

Tonight, for the first time in years, I went to a grocery store and spent several hours planning upcoming meals and comparison shopping to get the best deals. I tracked everything I picked up and put it in my cart so that I had a reasonable expectation of what the final tally would be when I hit the register.

I've gotten so into the habit over the years of spending without thinking. Once upon a time I was good at being aware of my finances and of being . . . not necessarily miserly, but economical and thrifty. These days, my money slips away like wet sand scooped up from under an ocean tide slips through the cracks in my fingers. The more I make, the easier it is to spend it all without thinking. But when I make less, I still keep spending at the same rate.

Did I mention that I'm between jobs again?

On the bright side, I have plenty of time to tackle tasks I've been sitting on for years (going through my belongings, trimming down on possessions, mending, selling old text books).

On the other bright side, I have this opportunity, right here and now, to practice budgeting. And I have time to do things like cooking for myself, which make budgeting a little easier. I love to eat out. I love to eat exotic foods. Unfortunately, this is an expensive habit, which accounts for an overly large percentage of the money that I regularly spend.

The dim side of this other bright is that I do not have a lot of leeway, and it's not so much an opportunity as a necessity. All the sides form a triangular creature with a very shadowy bottom.

If I recreate good spending and eating and cooking habits now, maybe I can continue them as I find a new job and start making more money again. This will in turn lead to savings (once debts have been paid off). Savings! Something I had, once upon a time, but have not had for some time. Savings would be so nice.

I'm back from Montreal, from Cyprus, from Portland, from San Francisco, from Argentina, from New York. Home again.

It is damn cold here. Especially in my apartment.

One roommate bailed while I was away. He is gone off to someplace better. Someplace worse? Who knows. Someplace else.

The other simply . . . neglected to turn our rent payments in.

In the meanwhile, all the heaters in our apartment have stopped working. But we don't really have grounds to complain, seeing as we haven't paid rent.

I'm cold. Still a little sick. And did I mention cold? It is so, so cold and wet in Seattle right now, and so very cold in our basement apartment. I mean, maybe Antarctica is colder than this, but I can't imagine it is by much.

Out of desperation, I have resorted to desperate but ingenuous means of heating my immediate space.

On the desk next to me sits my toaster. I push the button. It heats up for a bit. The timer goes off, UP! it pops, and I press the button again.

On the floor behind me sits the tea kettle, still full of scalding hot water. It set off my smoke detector a few minutes ago; Apparently smoke detectors do not like steam.

Smoke detectors without batteries, however, raise no alarms.

My smoke detector now is calm and quiet. Let us hope my apartment does not catch on fire tonight.

On the desk, also, is a cup of tea. I will imbibe it in an attempt to warm myself from the inside out.

Thinking warm thoughts. Coldbegone! Warm, warm, warm.

Kathryn and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
(I think I'll move to Australia.)

NEVER, ever, ever buy tickets that include multiple stops on "Partner Airlines". I won't, anyhow. And I'll avoid American Airlines in the future, if I can at all help it.

1. I buy a ticket to Montreal from Alaska Airlines. Multiple stops. Partner Airlines.
   
   --> Seattle to San Francisco: leave 7:00 PM, arrive 9:00PM, on Alaska Airlines.
   --> Transfer in SFO to a 9:30 PM Delta flight to JFK.
   --> Transfer at JFK to an 8:36 AM flight on American Eagle to Montreal.
   
   Strange and convoluted? Yes. But it's cheap, so I buy it.


2. Arrive at the Airport with almost 2 hours to spare. Spend 20 minutes in (one of many) lines of approximately 5 people waiting to check in at one of Alaska's e-ticket machines.


3. Get to the machine, run my name and information, only to find that it only lists and seems to understand the initial flight to SFO.


4. The machine times out while I am trying to catch the attention of an attendant.


5. Each subsequent attempt with the machine results in an error stating: Our computer system is experience difficulties. Please speak with an attendant.


6. Spend another 15 minutes trying to flag one of the attendants down.


7. Find out from the attendant that the machine believed it had actually checked me in to both of the first two flights, even though it had never listed the second or the third leg, and had printed no passes. She prints me a pass for the first leg, but is unable to print me anything for the second, and can't even check me in for the third. "You'll have to do it with those airlines in those cities, because they are partner flights."


8. I get through security unexpectedly fast, hardly even 10 minutes. Surprising since checking in alone took nearly an hour.


9. I get to my gate and wait patiently for the flight. After some time has passed, they board us all.


10. Everyone seated, we sit at the gate. And wait. And wait. They announce over the loudspeaker that the mechanics heard a noise at the baggage door and need to check it out. Fortunately there is a tail wind, the pilot says, so we'll be able to make up time in the air.


11. Another announcement over the speakers: the mechanics can't get at the problem, so we have to de-board the plane. It is now 7:30. We don't know when we'll be allowed to re-board. There is no way I'm making the connecting flight in SFO.


12. I join half the flight in line, waiting to talk to one of the agents.


13. After waiting 10 minutes, the line has gone nowhere. There are still at least 20 people ahead of me. I abort, and walk over to talk to an agent at a different gate. She advises me that I can either, "Wait in that line over there (the one I just left) or go to the customer service counter." Hmm. I can wait in line to find out when I can next get to San Francisco; not my final destination, and certainly not in time for my connecting flight. . .or. . .not. I opt for not.


14. The customer service line is rather short. I am talking to an agent within 5 minutes. Unfortunately, as I am flying partner flights, he is not able to help me on his own. He does not have that sort of power. He calls a line for the partner help desk, and sits on hold waiting to speak to someone there.


15. 15 minutes later, he reaches someone. She and he talk back and forth, she asking questions, he passing them on to me, then passing my answers back to her. . . eventually he just hands the phone to me so that I can talk to her directly.


16. She's looking for flights, and asks to put me on hold for just a minute while she checks something out.


17. 15 minutes later, I am still standing at the customer service counter, phone at my ear, on hold.


18. 30 minutes later, I am still on hold.


19. 45 minutes later, I am still on hold. This is getting old.


20. Finally the lady comes back. She asks, "Can you just fly out tomorrow?" I Inform her that I am flying out for an event that happens tomorrow. She asks me to give her back to the agent at the desk.


21. He nods, listens, nods again, listens, nods again. Hangs up.


22. Apparently there is a different Delta flight that flies directly from Seattle to JFK, in time for me to make my connecting flight to Montreal. He has been given clearance to switch my ticket over, so he calls the Delta agents to make the change.


23. The Delta agents don't answer.


24. He tries to make the change himself. He purchases the new ticket, but isn't able to complete the transaction because he can't off my seat on the original flight out of San Francisco. He tries and tries. Time goes by. He's tired and cranky, as everyone at the counter is getting off their shift and leaving, and he would like to as well.


25. He tries Delta again and finally gets through. Explains the problem to the girl on the other end, only to have her tell him, "Oh, my shift is over. I'm off. Let me transfer you."


26. He explains again, to the next agent. I'm not the only one getting the runaround.


27. Finally, he gets them to off the ticket and gets everything through. I'm now flying directly from Seattle to JFK, arriving at 7:30, in time to make my 8:36 flight out to Montreal. Because the new flight is a partner flight, he can't actually check me in - he gives me a paper ticket, and tells me that I have to go back out through security and check in at the main Delta departures desk.


28. Thank goodness I didn't check any baggage - otherwise this would be a bigger mess than ever.


29. The Delta desk is way the hell down there. I make the long trek, still in a reasonably good mood. After all, I will still make my final destination at the originally scheduled time. So what that I just spent over two hours in line. Everything will work out.


30. "Good news!," the Delta agent tells me. "If you are willing to help out in case of emergency, I can give you a seat in an emergency row with the row all to yourself."
    
    "I could deal with that!" I say, feeling quite glad at the change of tide.
    
    . . .
    
    "Oops. I must have been looking at the wrong plane," the agent mumbles. "There are only middle seats available.


31. The Delta guy can see my next flight, the leg to Montreal, but guess what? He still cannot check me in for it, "as it is a partner flight." Surprise surprise.
    
32. On my way back through security, it turns out that I have been "randomly selected" to be hand searched. They paw through my bags, wand me, pat me down. They are confounded at the concept of body jewelry. What, this is Seattle. Has nobody ever come through security with piercings before?


33. Security cleared, I make my way to the new gate and wait 2 hours for the flight.


34. Boarding! On my way!


35. The moment I sit down, the guy next to me starts talking and talking. Are you married, he asks. Where do you live? What do you do? He tells me all about himself. 26 years old. From Africa. A preacher. Lives in North Carolina. Was in Alaska. Is going to Louisiana to visit a cousin. Maybe he could stop and see me next time he comes to Seattle? I tell him I won't be here, because I am moving to Europe and getting married. The conversation abruptly dies, as I no longer seem a viable target to him.


36. New York! Here I am! Ready for the next leg of my flight.


37. If you have the poor luck to have a transfer between different airlines at JFK, you may have to go to a different terminal. And there is no way to travel between terminals without leaving the secure area and having to go through security again at the next terminal. And yes, Delta and American Eagle exist in different terminals. I leave the Delta gate, at terminal 3, and start booking it over to American Eagle in Terminals 8 and 9.


38. Having arrived at Terminals 8 and 9, I try to check in at one of the automated machines.


39. The automated machines don't seem to recognize Montreal as a valid destination city. They also do not recognize my flight number.


40. I hear a boarding call for my flight over the loud speaker. I am still not checked in. No boarding pass, so I can't go through Security.


41. "Excuse me," I tell a lady at the desk, "they're boarding my flight and I need a boarding pass." She tells me there's no way I'm going through.
    What?? The flight doesn't leave for 25 minutes. I don't even have bags to check. In a normal airport, where you don't have to exit security and travel way the hell somewhere else, I would have been fine.
    
    "You won't even let me try to make it?"
    
    She does not look inclined. "Are you checking anything?," she asks.
    
    "No," I say.
    
    "Well, that's something," she says, but then still will not give me a pass. She directs me to wait in line and get a spot on the next flight.
    
    Her peer next spot down wants to give me a pass, but she overrules him.


42. Turns out the line that the Nazi agent directed me to is actually only for people traveling to Miami. I find this only after having waited for 15 minutes.


43. I finally find the line I am supposed to be in. It is not marked any differently than the other line. There's nothing to distinguish it. Except that it is in a different part of the room, and it is longer. I wait, and wait, and wait.


44. The agent I finally get in this line is even more short and curt than the last. She yells at me for the other airlines having had the audacity to think that 85 minutes layover time would be enough to make a connection. I mean, geez! Idiots! It only works like that in a normal airport. (Note: I must remember to never, ever, ever make connections at JFK again.)


45. The ticket she hands me has no seat assignment. She says I can give my seat preferences at the gate and get my seat assigned there. I am glad to be done with her, so I leave.


46. Lucky, lucky me - I have again been "randomly selected" for extra security screening.
    
    Really, though, what is up with their algorithms? This will be my third time in 10 hours going through security. I have never left any of the airports. I still have the same baggage.
    
    Wouldn't they be better served if their random algorithms more often chose people going through security for the first time, rather than selecting people on a middle leg of their flight? Who's to say that, if I had something I shouldn't have had, I wouldn't have left it IN the secure zone BEFORE coming out, so that it would still be there when I went back in?


47. The girl with the wand has even more trouble with my piercings. She cannot understand the genital piercing, and is not sure what to do with it. I think she wants to pat me down, but isn't sure if it is appropriate. Instead, she keeps wanding my crotch. Finally asks a peer, who sort of pats down the front of my crotch with the back of her hand, and then they let me be. I ask if I can put my shoes back on, and sit down to wait for my bags.


48. I wait and wait. Nobody is talking to me. They still have my stuff and my ticket.


49. One of the other women directs me to take my bags and move down to sit next to her. She opens up a binder and starts writing. Asks for my passport. Writes some more. "You don't have a seat?," she asks, looking at my ticket suspiciously. I shake my head in affirmation, and she continues writing.
    
    "Do you, uh, fill out this form for everyone you hand-screen?," I ask.
    
    No, they do not. Apparently my laptop failed the screening, so they have to document me. How did it fail? I have no idea. It turns on when you open it. It is a laptop. It does not do drugs. It passed all the other screenings, including the manual screening at SeaTac. But now I am on record as having a laptop at JFK that failed.


50. Finally, security allows me to leave, and I start the trek to the gate. I call Jon to let him know what's up and to vent about my experiences so far, and mid-conversation my phone dies. Figures.


51. There is nobody at the gate. But the flight doesn't leave for another 3 hours, so that is to be expected. I try to get a seat assignment from somebody at a nearby gate, but she says she is not an agent so I should try someone else. I find an agent two gates further down, but, in a grumpy manner, she tells me she will not help me and the people for my flight will be at my gate an hour before the flight. This is the third American agent today who is all curt and rude, as if she's got a stick up her butt. 3 out of 3. What is their problem, all of them? Does American Airlines treat their employees as poorly as they treat their customers?


52. I camp out at my gate and wait. And wait. And wait.


53. I open up my computer and write this post to vent steam. But wait! There is no wireless internet! No wireless internet! This is JFK. New York City. An urban hub. What airport in the 21st century does not have wireless in its terminals? Well, apparently JFK. WTF.


54. They are telling people on the flight ahead of me that they will only be able to fly 25 people due to a "weight restriction". There are 37 people with tickets, so 12 of the people without assigned seats will not get to go. On a 50-seater plane. Stupid American Airlines. With my luck, that will happen on my flight as well. And guess who still doesn't have an assigned seat; that's right - me.


55. Watching them deal with all the disgruntled people from the previous flight who are not allowed to fly, I feel a little unsettled. I go up to the gate to try again for my seat assignment, so that the same thing will not happen to me.
    
    But -
    
    Surprise!
    
    Why there is no seat assignment? The agent who gave me the ticket told me she had put me on the flight, but she actually put me on stand-by. Great. Thanks. And thanks for telling me.


56. I wait and wait. Several other people on the same flight were surprised to find that they are actually on stand-by, as well. We all wait together.


57. I try to find someone to talk to. My flight leaves in 30 minutes (well, hopefully my flight, since I still do not have a seat), but there is nobody at the counter. Apparently they forgot to staff the counter for this flight.


58. The pilot and flight attendant hanging out at the counter are frustrated and annoyed also at the lack of attendants working to board our flight. The flight attendant goes to complain to the attendants working at a nearby gate.


59. One of the attendants at that gate decides to come and work ours, since whomever was assigned to work ours (was anyone assigned?) is apparently not coming.


60. I talk to the stressed out attendant trying to pull everything together at a counter that is not hers, and finally eek out from her that, yes, I am on standby, and I must wait until the flight is boarded to find out whether or not I can go.


61. They board the flight. Everyone - pilot, flight attendant, gate attendant, other standbys - is stressed out and unhappy. The other standbys and I continue to wait.


62. The flight is boarded. Still waiting.


63. Still waiting.


64. Success! They allow me on. They allow two other of the standbys on. The third is out of luck. Poor girl. I feel for her, but I am glad to be done with this farce.


65. After a bumpy flight on a tiny, old, beat up plane, I arrive in Montreal at last. Finally! An end to my travels. The first leg at first, and future legs are on different airlines.

So, here I am, online at last and publishing this post. And vowing to myself once again to never, ever fly American Airlines again, if I can help it, and to avoid itineraries involving partner flights, and to never connect through JFK.

Or maybe I'll just move to Australia.

My mommy made the papers again.

Cash-balance plans change rules of game, Minneapolis Star Tribune, September 26, 2005.

I retook the Dante's Inferno Test to see if anything has changed from my old results. Here's what it finds for me these days:

---

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Moderate
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

---

Still violent! But down from Extreme to Very High. Lustful and heretics both jumped a bit, but gluttonous; wrathful and gloomy; and fraudulent, malicious, panderers all dropped just as much. And I'm hardly treacherous at all anymore! Overall, all trends taken into consideration, it appears I am a bit less of a sinner these days. How's that apple pie?

My total score on the Basic Physics Savvy Quiz was 62.5%. What is yours?

Now there're all these cameras
focused on my face
You would think that they could see it through my skin
Looking for evil
Thinking they could trace it
but evil don't look like anything
evil don't look like anything

Still to come, once I sit down and get writing:

• China - the ins, the outs, and the inbetweens.
• The great sickness and the long hospital stay.
• Battle waged with Muliono's computer virus, and my stunning tactical victory.

Yeah. All that and more, still to come. Really. Wait and see.

Car-B-Que...man. Brian is a riot. I miss his blog.

Time for a Car-B-Que

$900 to fix my car. Both the power steering well and the pump need to be replaced, and that apparently takes a long time and lots of effort.

According to the blue book, the trade-in-valude of my 1999 Ford Taurus, in its current state (broken) is. . .$0.

The trade in value, assuming it is in decent drivable condition, is between $2300-$2900.

So, for a mere $900 out of pocket, I am increasing its worth by at least another $1400. Looked at in this way, I'm getting a great deal. . .right?

Ha.

I hate going out to eat with foreign folk who grab the check, as they often seem to tip poorly. I mean, not necessarily foreign, but people in general who tip for #$%#. Which is often foreign people. But not always. I worked in food service once, yo. I know how sucky it is to get shafted on tips, so I try to always tip well, unless service was particularly poor.

But when I'm out with someone else, and they grab the check, and they're doing the tipping, but they're hardly even tipping 10%...

I dunno. I could confront them. Which I do sometimes. I could covertly leave some extra tip on the table, which I have also done. It's not the end of the world or anything. I just hate being in that position in the first place.

A Sad Day in the World of Kathy

My car is dying.

Last week, it started making noises. Whenever I turned the wheel it wailed like a dying manatee. Whooooooooeuuuuuuuuuuuu. Whoooooooooeuuuuuuuuuuu. I brought it in to a mechanic who checked the power steering fluid, looked at it briefly, and said, "Ford power steering pumps have a tendancy to get noisy when they get older. That's all it is. Nothing to worry about," and sent me home.

A few days later, the power steering stopped working entirely. I mean, you can sort of steer the car. When it is moving. If you use all your strength, and are content with the worst turning radius ever.

If you want to get into or out of parallel parking... well, it's an adventure.

There was no place to bring the car the last several days, being a holdiday weekend and all, but I dropped the car off at the shop this morning. (A different shop, a different mechanic. This one highly rated by the folks at car talk.)

I don't have an estimate yet, but the mechanic thinks it will be expensive.

The blue book says the trade in value for my car is somewhere between $2300 and $2900. Retail value is around $6000, but I assume it would be much more difficult to sell it for retail value?

So here are the big questions weighing on my mind: at what point, in the case of expensive repairs, is it no longer worth it to shell out for the repairs? How expensive is too expensive? What do you all do when your cars get old and start dying?

Does anyone else find it even slightly amusing that blogger's spell checker does not recognize the word "blog"?

I have determined that tampons somehow aggravate my cramping. A quick web search determined that I am not the first woman to notice this relationship, either. What about it? Maybe the extra pressure against my cervix. Maybe the bleach or other chemicals used in the tampon production. Who knows. Whatever the case, the cramping seems much worse when a tampon is in, and markedly better when out (although it never goes away completely).

So. Messy, or extraordinarily painful - these appear to be my choices. I've never been that neat a person anyhow.

You know what bothers me most about pads, though?

Maybe you didn't want to know what bothers me most about pads. Or about tampons aggravating my cramping. But you're here, and you're reading my blog, and if you're going to continue to read, I'm going to continue to write. That's the way it used to be, and, uh, the way it will be again. At least for the next two minutes.

What bothers me most is the smell.

Maybe I am extra sensitive to it, because it is my smell. When I mention it to close friends, they say they can't smell it. Here is what one FAQ I found had to say about the issue:

Does menstrual fluid really smell bad?

It definitely has an odor. Menstrual fluid starts to smell when it is in contact with air. So a pad you have been wearing all day at school can get pretty strong smelling. Also, you might find that the fluid that comes at the end of your period has a stronger smell than the more liquid flow at the beginning.

You may be able to smell your menstrual fluid, but don't worry, other people will not. Think about it, have you ever smelled a woman's menstrual blood when standing near her? Probably not, even though there are menstruating women everywhere you go.

Wash with mild soap and water every day of your period if you are worried about it.

Regardless, when I am wearing pads, I start to smell. . .old blood. Slightly metallic. Warm. Earthy, maybe. But very, very distinct. And I get to feeling that everyone around me can smell it. And if they aren't aware they can smell it, their bodies can still and they then can sense it, and then we all relate to each other slightly differently.

So it's not so much a choice of messy or painful, then, but a choice of painful or smelling of. . .this smell, that I cannot adequately describe.

But what choice is there, really? I'm fed up with all the bloody cramping - lying around, curled up in the fetal position, half-coherent, feeling as if my insides were slowly being ripped out by some unseen hand.

Anyone want some free tampons?

Louie's been running away lately. Sneaks out if anyone leaves the door open even a crack, and then we don't see him for hours. One time, a whole day. I stopped home for something in the afternoon, and noticed that:
a) he wasn't there
b) his leash WAS there (meaning none of the dog sitters had taken him)
c) his breakfast was uneaten (meaning he'd probably been gone a while)

I called Chris, but couldn't get ahold of him right away. So I just went back to school and sat around and worried. Came back after school, still no Louie. Finally heard back from Chris, who said that Louie had been around in the morning, but he wasn't sure he had seen him the last time he had been home, roundabouts of 2:00 PM. So I just hung out in my living room with the door open, waiting, for hours, hoping Louie would show up. He didn't.

Finally, I went to bed, with the intention of calling up the humane society and animal control and such in the morning.

When I woke up, however, I found Louie tied up out back.

It is my theory that Rupert, one of the homeless guys in the neighborhood, found him and brought him home in the middle of the night. Nobody else really knows where he belongs to bring him back and tie him up.

Louie has taken off once more since then, and was gone for several hours again. Happily, he is at least tagged and microchipped. We are taking pains to watch the much door more closely these days, though.

Cramps make me sad. I wish I were sleeping. Why am I not sleeping? #@^@#$% Cramps. Is this worth being up at 4:00 in the morning? Not really.

Tony's having a baby! Hooray for Tony!

You know, it seems like almost everyone I know is getting married and/or having children.

At least, everyone I knew in high school.

And in college.

And at my last several jobs.

Basically, anyone I hang out with for a while, and then we lose touch - they then run off and pair up and propagate like crazy. So beware if you're hanging out with me now. Don't stop unless you're really ready. Are you ready for children?

Beginning Tango, taught by Kathryn & Claytie
No Partner Required!

Tuesdays, 8:00 PM - 9:00 PM
June 28nd - July 19th
Walt room of Freehold Theater, 1525 10th Avenue

4 weeks of classes for $25.
Drop in for $8.

My practica at the Century Ballroom (which is just down the hall)
starts at 9:30, and is just $3 admission. It's a great place to
practice what you've just learned in class!

Brian's Blog is gone! I know he hasn't posted for, like, 2 years, but still, it was sort of comforting clicking on the link every few months and looking at that last picture of snow. I feel so unsettled now.

I feel I should clear something up - I am actually a much happier person than my last few blog-posts might lead you to believe. Problem is that I have been jet lagged and overly tired, and when I am tired I am more prone to mood swings and to taking things less well than I might otherwise, and when I am in such a mood I feel like writing and venting and getting everything off my chest. Most of the time I am not in such a mood, with such a need for venting. But most of the time, when I am not in such a mood, I am also not writing, at least not currently. So if you read what I write but don't see or speak to me a whole lot, you get a very skewed picture of what is going on with my life.

Happy me! Really. I am.

Stefan and Komala and Burak and Kira are all here now. We had a lovely, lovely dinner, and then went dancing, and it was so nice! And now I'm trying to stay up a bit later so I can drive Jeremy to the airport to fly out to Europe. Alan's not on, so it's more boring than usual. But I will make it! Perhaps I will read an old fashioned, phyisical, binded book. Wouldn't that be strange.

Anyhow, don't be worring about me. Things are good.

And hey, thanks to all of you that have been checking in on me lately. I forget sometimes that people actually read this. It's nice though, to know that you do, and that you care. I love you, man.

From How to Overcome the Fear of Rejection: The Successful Rejection Experience by Jonathan Robinson, MA, MFT:

. . .Fortunately, each rejection got easier. In fact, I soon noticed that the women I spoke to seemed more nervous than I. My rejections were proceeding rapidly and smoothly until the seventh woman I approached. When I asked her for a date, she said, "Sure." I hadn't thought of the possibility of someone saying "Yes," so I said, "Sure what?" She finally convinced me she really wanted to go out with me. I wrote down her number, and in a state of happy amazement, soon asked another woman for a date. To my surprise, she also said "Yes." By this time, I was feeling totally at ease while I asked women out, and they frequently responded by giving me their phone number. In fact, after a while I had so many dates that I had to begin acting like a jerk in order to fill my quota of ten rejections (and get my $50 bucks back). . .

Cute, eh?

I am happy now. Had some water, washed my face, had some tea, curled up on the couch and IM'd with friends. Feeeliiin' good, chips are in a pile on the floor.

• I'm lonely in tango. I wish I had a lead or two, here in Seattle, that I could practice with.
• Also, I hate politics.
• Also, I hate when people are fake-nice and ask you to do things under conditions that you can't meet so that you'll have to decline but they can still feel good about having asked. Thanks a @#$@#% lot.
• It feels hypocritiical to be teaching with someone I never practice with, and rarely even social dance with. I'm tired of it. But at the same time, I love teaching, and I want to do it, and the person I mainly get to teach with isn't interested in these things right now.
• I hate when people send me emails like, "I don't want to live with you or be your boyfriend. I just like fucking you." Even if it's sardonic and not meant seriously.

So many chips on my shoulder, and they're heavier at night. I need to catch up on my sleep.

(The grand plan failed. I forgot that I was hosting people for tango stuff this weekend, and some were getting here today, and so I was somewhat obliged to take them out to the dance tonight and stay up late. And I did. And now I'm super, super, super tired. And cranky. And things that might not normally bug me are bugging me a bunch.)

Anyways, I know that they're chips, and that I'd be happier if I could let them go. And why am I holding on to them? Do they make me happy? Do I like the feeling of holding on to them? $@#% no - but so far I'm not able to let them go.

Hello chips. I acknowledge you. You can go now. Go. Goodbye.

Oh.

Did that work?

I think they're gone, maybe a little tiny bit. Still there, but lighter.

Go chips, go. Go now. Goodbye, chips.

Anyhow, tomorrow will be a better day. Ultimate tomorrow night! And Stefan and Komala get here. And I don't have work the following day, so I can take naps and stuff. Good times to be had.

Phase II of the grand plan has been moving along smoothly enough. I got up (fairly) early. I'm not super tired.

Now to see if I can fill my day such that I collapse and fall into a deep sleep straight away when I get home from work this afternoon / this evening...

I made the best omlette of my life tonight. Fresh mushrooms, organic green pepper, sharp white cheddar, cooked in my precious cast iron skillet. And I've got a perfect pink lady apple cut up with more of the cheese, and amazingly good organic cottage cheese on the side. And hot sake. It's a veritable feast.

The whole night has really diverged from my normal routine. First I ended up late at work, and missed school. By the time I left it was a choice between making a measly hour of class, and skipping it entirely. I skipped. Headed over to the Century to drop off some flyers for Stefan and Komala's workhops this coming week, but instead of staying to dance, I left. Caught Tina on the phone, and she agreed to bring Buffy over to my house instead of watching it by herself. I picked up food (mushrooms, green pepper, apple, cheese, sake) at the market and met her at my place.

My place has been a mess lately. The kitchen, in particular, has been terrible. Tina was good enough to hang out patiently while I cleaned it, top to bottom. It's so much nicer to cook in a clean kitchen, you know? Then she put on Buffy and I made my feast. Finished it, came over, sat with her a bit, and watched the rest of the episode. Then she had to leave.

Now I am watching Spiderman II, alone, and eating the rest of my dinner. Well, mostly alone. Louie is here too.

This may be the first time in years that I have watched a movie alone. Sometimes you gotta do stuff like that, though, you know?

Actually, I have grand plans to catch up with my jet lag this way. Stay up late. Drag myself out of bed early tomorrow. Muster through the day as best I can, and then tomorrow night - no school, no commitments, nothing I have to attend - so I'll hit the sack really early, and hopefully wake up bright and early Friday morning, feeling refreshed and fine. Just fine.

That's the plan, yo. Gotta go. Spiderman and I have a date to keep.

I've been writing about China, but haven't finished yet. Will post more on the trip later. Let me just say now, though, that the trip was awesome, perhaps one of the high points of my life so far.

China aside, tonight is not a good night. I'm feeling pretty frustrated with nearly everyone I know. My stuff moved around while I am gone, the couch taken apart several days ago and still not put back together (the cover was left in the wash yesterday - i put it in the dryer then, where it still remains, so i am just taking care of it myself now), something stolen from Jaimes's room and Miles doesn't seem to care, rent not paid yet despite my having left my roommates a check before I left for China, and still not paid despite having called Chris to ask again today when I noticed my check sitting on the windowsill (he said he would take care of it when he got home)...

And I'm lonely, and feeling pretty distant from most people I would generally consider friends, and I'm jet lagged, and up in the middle of the night which means tomorrow will be brutal, and I am tired of being busy. And school is a mess - didn't manage to tie everything up at the end of last term, which means I have to take care of it all this week or risk being put on probation. And work may well get messy soon - it looks like I'll be picking up more work in areas that are not my strengths. And I'm sick of people always flaking out, saying they'll do things and not, saying they'll be somewhere and not showing up, putting other things or other people or the latest greatest girl that they're pursuing far ahead of me on their list of priorities.

Yeah. It's a pity party.

I'm in the Vancouver airport. There are birds everywhere. I think they are sparrows. Sitting in the trees, in the eaves. "We're not supposed to feed them," says the Starbucks girl, "or they'll reproduce everywhere."

This airport is so, so confusing. First you go through customs. Then all of a sudden you're thrust out into the bowels of the aiport, and you have to search to find gates or claims or security again. A long, arduous search. But I made it, and now here I am, with the birds and the Starbucks girl.

My computer is being worrysome. When I first booted her up, she claimed she could not connect to the wireless because she had no Airport hardware installed. Not so! I turned her off, flipped her over, lovingly pulled her hardware out, and then slipped it ever so gently back in, and that seemed to do the trick - for now. We're going to stop and check in with Dr. Apple-Store when I get back to Seattle.

Not many other people hanging out here at 8:00 am on a Thursday morning. Seattle was packed - Memorial Day rush, maybe? - but not so here. 'least not in the International departure gates.

4 hours and I get to board for Beijing...

All your jibes falling flat? Forbes, in an article today, states that researchers have pinpointed a specific brain region responsible for comprehending sarcasm. Maybe your audience is just brain-damaged.

Why must I act the wolf?

There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street,
and being the noise.

Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.

Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.

Open your hands,
if you want to be held.

Sit down in this circle.

Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
the shepherd's love filling you.

At night, your beloved wanders.
Don't accept consolations.

Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover's mouth in yours.

You moan, "She left me." "He left me."
Twenty more will come.

Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thougt!

Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?

Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.

Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.

- Rumi

A long time ago, I wrote some newsgroup posts about sexual issues - I was molested both by peers and by a teacher in my teenage years - and in part, as result of this, I had serious intimacy issues for years following. These issues, at that time, were manifested through acting out sexually. I wrote the posts as a heartfelt cry for help when I hit bottom, and was tired of hurting myself and other people I loved. I didn't like my patterns of behavior, but felt powerless to do anything and didn't know where to go.

I got an email the other day from some guy who found the posts while looking for material to masturbate to, and thought they were "hot". He was hoping maybe I still had the same problems and would hook up with him.

I don't know how to describe my feelings, reading his mail. Shocked. Felt a bit dirty. Felt a bit thrown out of time. Surreal. It doesn't help that, on the same day, I had met up with an ex-boyfriend for the first time in years, and he dates back to the time of the posting.

On top of that, I was amazed and a little shocked that this guy found me at all. I wrote the posts year ago with an address that is long since defunct. How then was he able to mail me at a current address? Well, it turns out that the post I made at the start of my blogging career listing personal details and such so old friends could find me also allows news group surfers who come across posts from back in the day to find me, as well. The joy of the internet - nothing ever really goes away.

In brighter news, Sam is going to move in with us! So awesome. I love Sam. Good times to come.

Of Kitchens and Potatos

I love, love, love my new kitchen. Sure, the stove is old and the refridgerator is not in his prime, but the room is huge, there are three amazing windows, a large sink, and counter space like you wouldn't believe. I could live in here. I used to covet Jaimes's kitchen - I'd dream about it at night - but now I'm happy with the one I have. I need no man's kitchen to be happy

Walked to the market tonight with Louie and Chris, picked up meat and potatos and fresh fruit. Buffalo! Some of the best looking cuts at the counter tonight, and on sale, at that. And potatos and garlic. Tonight we are feasting like kings. The potatos are rosting in the stove, and I'm about to toss the buffalo into the cast iron skillet. And then there's the asparagus I already had! I wish I had time to cook like this every night. Someday, when I am done with school and my time is more my own, life will be so, so beautiful. And yummy.

As I was driving today, some guy zipped ahead of me, cut me off, and then, for good measure, HE flicked ME off.

Then, the Seattle branch of the US Passport Agency called, and the Agent I spoke with tried to guilt me for not wanting him to throw my Passport back in the mail, when he only has it because the US Postal Service returned it the first time around. I haven't definitively sorted out with the Postal Service yet why it is that sometimes they return my mail. I don't want the Passport Agency to mail my Passport again, only to have the US Postal Service return it again. This would do me no good. So the agent is allowing me to pick it up tomorrow, but grudgingly. And he tried so hard to make me feel bad about it. What? Does this significantly impact his day?

Work has been crazy today. But fun. I'm liking it at the moment.

The barista (is it barista if it's a male? or baristor? baristino? barist?) at my coffee shop flirted with me. It was nice to be noticed in a postive way.

Then I found out that iffy plans with Tina I'd been hoping would come together are not going to work out. It's silly, they were so iffy anyway, but my mood just plummeted.

Up down up down up down.

Soon to take a test. I'm still not really ready. Boney landmarks suck.

Kat: but he is kind of crazy.
Adam: ha
Adam: You love crazy.
Kat: I do.
Kat: I love people who are broken.
Adam: You love his kind of crazy.
Adam: Shit
Adam: woman - never tell that to a man.
Adam: You are a strange cat Kat.
Adam: I can read you so well in some ways. Like when you withdraw it is so obvious. But then there are these deep well parts I'm not so good at. Didn't you once tell me you wanted to be pursued?
Kat: I do.
Kat: Sort of.
Kat: Except I don't really have time for it.
Kat: You know?
Kat: I dunno.
Adam: I'm laughing.
Kat: I think maybe I want to be pursued, but don't necessarily want to be with whomever is pursuing me?
Kat: but want to be pursued by them nonetheless
Adam: Ha
Kat: like a cat
Kat: which wants to be let out
Kat: only it doesn't want to be out
Kat: and when it is out, it wants to be let in
Adam: Exactly like a cat.
Kat: except it doesn't really want to be in, either
Kat: it's the letting that it wants

Someone ran into me today. The moment I have a bit of free time, someone runs into me and I spent hours on the phone talking to the insurance company and sorting everything out. I kind of liked it, though. Change of pace. I felt badly for the woman, however; she was a bit shaken up. But neither of us was hurt, and the damage to both cars seems not that bad.

Then I made dinner for the first time in my new kitchen. I have a ghetto stove. It smokes like a mother. The button for the light is broken, so you must screw the lightbulb in and screw it out to turn the light on and off. The timer is so confusing that I gave up and timed it on my own. But I made good chicken. With fresh grated garlic roasted on top. Yum.

The Postal Service hates me. Sometimes they deliver my mail. Other times, they return it to sender as "Undeliverable" with "No Forwarding Address". All the mail addressed the same way. Theoretically, all delivered by the same postman. Except when it's not delivered. Like yesterday. When they returned my passport to the passport authority. Stupid post office.

Two weeks until China...

Boundless Optimism

For years, I have carried around with me a single argyle sock. I have faithfully packed and unpaked it through many moves.

Why the single sock?

I liked the pair. I've always hoped that the second would someday show again, and then I could wear them together once more. And so I keep the one. Year after year after year.

The pessimistic side of me says it was time to give up hope long ago. But still I keep the sock.