bed rest sucks balls

it's been years since i have written. two things keep me from writing: 1) having too much going on in my life 2) having nothing going on in my life. today is a ball sucking combination of both.
tomorrow i will be 26 weeks pregnant. and i am modified bed rest.

before you start exclaiming how you wish you could be on bed rest, let me explain to you what modified bed rest actually is (in my situation, determined by my caregivers. it is different for everyone), so that i am not forced to want to punch you in the face for being so delusional and ungrateful for your own motility:

what i can do:
-lie in bed
-get up to go to the bathroom
-make myself quick food (and eat it)
-take a quick shower
-lie on my back with my head propped up
-lie on my side

what i can not do:
-sit up in bed for more than 15 minutes in a 2 hour period
-have sex
-housework
-out of house work (you know....have a job, an income, a sense of who i am in society)
-garden
-throw the tennis ball for my dogs
-stairs
-exercise, or even walk around the block with the dogs or husband
-drive except for doctor's appointments
-go to a bbq, sit in a lawn chair and "be waited on hand and foot".

so how did i get here? many years ago, i saw neil in a crowded and smoky bar. i thought he was really hot. then, 26 weeks ago, we got pregnant. absolutely nothing of interest happened between those two major events. i swear.

apparently i lie when i am on bed rest.

one thing that happened was this: 5 or so years ago, i had a pap smear. they found precancerous cells. i had them removed. i vaguely remember the doctor saying that there was a chance that the procedure could weaken my cervix, which could cause problems when and if i were to get pregnant. (the cervix holds the baby in, you know.) but i was reassured that they could just "put a stitch in there to reinforce it" and it would be no big deal. that doctor was a fucking liar.

because of this procedure, my cervical length has been monitored by someone other than the doctor i previously referred to as "a fucking lair". (insert big sigh of relief coming from all of the pregnant women who have always had a healthy cervix. this in normally when i hear "oh my god why hasn't my doctor been checking my cervix?!!??). and it was fine until i was 20 weeks. and then it was less fine the next time it was checked. and so on. what we have deduced is this: when i stand, my cervix shortens. when i lie down, it does not. since i actually give a tremendous shit about this baby, i lie down. but what about "just putting a stitch in there to reinforce it"?

that stitch is called a cerclage. you know when they do it? when you have a history of an incompetent cervix. you know how you establish a history of an incompetent cervix? you lose a baby in the second or third trimester. then they give you the stitch for your next pregnancy. gee thanks! (this was gleefully explained to me by another doctor that i use the swear words to describe, as well). they will also put a cerclage in if you are in a major emergency situation, like if your baby is winking and waving at you from your vagina. but anything short of those two scenarios and your ass is on bed rest and that is all you get.

now i know i sound pissed off and bitter, but the truth is that i am actually really grateful, too. i am grateful that i was even checked, so that i knew this was happening. i am grateful that i am just on modified bed rest and not "strict" or "hospital" bed rest (yay showers!). i am grateful that i have not actually gone into preterm labor. i am grateful that neil is just as amazing on the inside as i had hoped he was when i first saw him being all dreamy in that smoky bar. dude hasn't had a moment of peace since this all began. he has a full time job. he is finishing some household remodeling projects before the baby gets here. he does all the cooking, cleaning, pet management, angry phone calls to our health insurance company, etc. he does Everything.

what do i do? well, you saw my list up there. i lie in bed. i watch tv. i read at night. i fuck around on the internet. i listen to music. i watch the birds at the bird feeder that neil hung outside our bedroom window (see what i mean about the awesomes?). i watch the baby kick. and i examine my arms to make sure that i am still only just "pregnant large" and not "lazy ass fat". i incubate and that is basically it. sounds like fun, huh? i could be horizontal for a grand total of about 12 weeks. that is 3 months. think about it. still sound like a fun time to relax and catch up on your crafty projects? yeah, right.

(insert obligatory "if we are lucky enough to carry this baby to term" schpeal here).

so that is my day to day. bitter and grateful. grateful and bitter. not a lot of insight. Oprah would be so disappointed. great, add that to my "what i can do" list.....disappoint Oprah.

a family united in being grateful for AB

there have been some pretty significant changes around here over the last couple of months. the most surprising has been neil's brand spanking interest in cooking. at first it was basically forced upon him due to my new less than human work hours. i wrote down some recipes and he begrudgingly followed them to get dinner on the table at a reasonable hour. he did alright, too. but he just wasn't into it. until today.

we went to J and Noelle's for thanksgiving. good times were had by all, but i must note that the death of my mom also resulted in the death of my favorite holiday. i no longer yearn for a good quality thankful circle. i went for the food and while good times were obviously had, i was just not into it. until today.

somehow we decided that we should recook the whole feast today. it is shocking to me that This is what we are both into. neil got bird and i got sides and leftovers. neil settled upon Alton Brown's roasted turkey recipe. while we all know AB is a culinary genius, maybe some of you didn't know that if we were to meet Alton, Neil would keep a very close eye on me. i like alton; i a lot like.

so, there was overnight brining in a cooler.



the rinsing of the brine. neil may or may not have been singing to the turkey at this point:

is this how you are supposed to hold a turkey?

the patting dry:
a mix of butt-stuffins. onion, apple, cinnamon, all microwaved and then shoved where the sun don't shine with rosemary and sage but neil forgot the sage so just rosemary. sorry alton.
matilda found the whole thing incredibly fascinating and did her best to trip neil and steal the turkey.
moose watched the perimeter. no way someone was going to come in and steal this turkey.
butt stuffins:
the gibbly niblets and some aromatics were put at the bottom on the roasting pan for gravy fixins.
i doubt AB's turkeys look like this before they go in the oven.



holy crap look what neil did. he made a damn yummy turkey. and i am painfully full. again.
i have to say i am officially completely over the whole thanksgiving flavor profile. and we have plenty of turkey left, just like we planned. oops.
so now comes my part. what can we do with all of this turkey that will taste nothing like thanksgiving for another 364 days? stock is simmering on the stove. we are not casserole folks, as there are but two of us. first order of business is some kind of turkey mulligatawny soup for when it snows sunday. and i saw a recipe for turkey pad see ew that sounded kind of interesting. feel free to share your leftover recipes in the comment section. bonus points if it is healthy. extra bonus points if you are alton brown and you want to just come over and hang out in the kitchen with me. i mean us. us, damn it.

grrr argh.

on sundays i get to think for myself again. i spend tuesday through saturday listening to other people, trying to figure out the Tigi color line, pretending i am not terrified of cutting hair, settling disputes between coworkers, sweeping, and fetching hot tea. i do other stuff, too. but right now, this is the blur of my memories for the week. as previously blogged about, we start The Sunday with The Walk. poor neil. that is when my mind starts going big...the plans, the theories, the countless observations. it is an hour walk. that is a lot of time....if you are neil. for me it goes by like a blur:

what will the floor plan be for the third floor when we pop the top on our house in 5000 years? (unresolved due to the fact that we are not architects. current plan is to pretend we are in a sitcom and try to befriend some architects for free advice). should we make french onion soup for dinner tonight? (simmering on stove as i type). can we do no presents but maybe lots of baking for christmas? (yes). do you think matilda will be pulling at the leash until her last breath? (probably and why so morbid?). why do i love living here so fucking much? (answered and unanswered over and over again).


this morning we took the pups for The Walk in quite a few inches of snow. first of all, they plow the path around the lake when it is below freezing on a sunday! likey! anyways...on our way home, i saw a guy shoveling his walk and i declared that i loved it. i loved seeing that guy doing exactly what we needed to do. we have something in common with him, just because we live here. no matter what, in Denver, on any day, i have something in common with every person i encounter....the totally unpredictable, constantly changing, and stunningly beautiful weather of Denver. we love it here. we know it is a very well kept secret. and we are nice to each other when we talk about it. also likey.

and that is really it. it's the nice. it's not the weather. every city and town is what it is. the question is how the people within the city manage themselves within it. people here are kind, thoughtful, and throw out a hefty "good morning" at the lake no matter how cold it is. in san francisco, i'd be lucky to even get a bit of eye contact on a sunny 72 day. and in mill valley, i always felt lucky if i didn't get run over in the whole foods parking lot. why do i love it here? i'll have more for you next sunday, right after i figure out what color to paint the guest room and why Firefly got canceled after only one season when it was just about the best tv ever. i have a lot on my plate.

my favorite time

my new schedule leaves one day a week that Neil and I are off together. So every Sunday morning we take the dogs for a walk around Sloans Lake. It is always my favorite time. it's when work leaves the brain and family enters. it is good for us and good for the dogs and it is why people spend a pretty penny to live in this neighborhood.


we got a bit of snow yesterday. someone had a bit of fun with it. people are happy in denver. i likey.

here i am pointing out some Fall to Neil. You can barely see it in the left of the picture. But it is there. i swear.
Here is a bit of Fall that had the misfortune of getting caught up in Moose's drool strings.



While most folks walking around the lake choose to wear Broncos and Rockey's crap, Neil opted to represent Illinois twice. once in hat form and also in sweatshirt form. when i pointed it out to him, he claimed that no one would really know that his sweatshirt was an Illinois sweatshirt. um, Neil? i know. i always know.

it wasn't even above 32 degrees this morning, it was a beautiful walk. the lake will eventually freeze over this winter and we will continue to walk around it every Sunday. it's just that lovely.

and, well, the company is pretty stellar, too.
pretties:

Rest in peace, Simon.

Contrary to how clever everyone thinks they are, no one is actually clever enough to hide their surprise when i tell them that we have guinea pigs. especially once they find out that the guinea pigs are ours, and not our kids that don't exist yet.
a few years back, Neil and i just decided to adopt some pigs. when you have a couple of dogs, some cats, and assorted other small creatures, a couple of guinea pigs doesn't seem like much more of a stretch. Well, we were a bit wrong about that. and thank god.
We adopted Simon and Walter, who were brothers. Walter is the braver of the two. Simon was the cuter (at least in my eyes). they are incredibly social animals, make wonderful noises, and have such a striking resemblance to someone's fat uncle (i don't have a fat uncle) that you can't help but smile when they put their heads up to sniff whatever treats you are bringing them and their big ol' jowls hang down around their chubby lips. they are not to be forgotten in a cage. they just aren't. and thank god.
unfortunately, Simon passed away on Friday. I knew it was coming at some point soon, as the dudes are pretty old. Neil was a teensy bit heartbroken, as he had become more of the primary piggie caregiver over the years and really seemed to enjoy their routine. of all of the animals in this zoo, i am only allergic to the pigs. so they really have been Neil's little dudes.

So I guess now we have just one guinea pig that people can pretend to not have an opinion about.

So many things, though....mama got a job. that is me. i am mama. and i got a job. i am assisting an insanely talented hairstylist. the color she does floors me. she is meticulous, speedy, and always respectful to her clients....and me! respectful to me, damn it! ironically, she hired me because of my age, not in spite of it. and because of the school i went to. and because Lonnie forked over a pretty stellar reference. i will be assisting her for about a year, for 40-50 hours a week. sometimes i get to sit and eat lunch for 10 minutes. sometimes, not so much. it is exhausting and worth every ounce of energy i give to it. and luckily Neil has decided to pick up some dinner shifts, although i wouldn't hold your breath for any food related guest blogging on his part. Maybe some day i will tell you about the meal that we call "it's a bigger hit". neil made a chicken dish once and we liked it so we declared "it's a hit!!!". then, he made a completely different and ultimately superior chicken dish. we now call it "it's a bigger hit". because it is. we never went back to "it's a hit". life is too short for that crap.

we had a wintery spell last week and temps dropped to the mid thirties. since i was knee deep in shampoo and other peoples hair, i crossed my fingers and let the garden ride. i lucked out. so today we harvested the majority of the remainder of our basil.

it doesn't look like much but it is a bushel, at least. a bale, maybe? i like to call it an "s-ton" of basil. we made enough pesto that i don't think i will even want to look at pesto again before it all goes bad in the freezer. and we still had half an s-ton left. so neil did his best to provoke our nosy neighbors into thinking we are growing, or at least drying, pot.

how illegal does that look? i think it is hilarious, actually. i don't have the heart to tell neil that even after all this dries...well....then what? we'll have two pounds of dried basil on our hands? oh well, the garden was a really great adventure this summer. we still have some cooler weather stuff going on, but we are all gearing up for the next phase. you know, the one where i am so busy at work that i don't have time to be obsessed with vegetation.


yeah, we'll see about that.

Can you see me?

I made what I thought was a genius career move a few years back. I decided to go to beauty school so that I may be a happy person for the rest of my years. I had enough of running other peoples’ offices, businesses, lives even. It was thankless, low paying, exhausting, and often humiliating. Good on me for taking the bull by the horns and starting over.

Except something happened. While no one was looking, I got older.

I spent a year in beauty school. It was great. I mean really really really great. i learned and laughed and met some really great people who called me “mom” but not in an insulting way. It was actually quite cute. They would ask for my advice specifically, because I had a different perspective than their peers. Especially love life kind of stuff because they all Loooooved Neil. If I had landed a guy like that, I must have done something right. Right? And I also met and fell totally in love with Lonnie, who was and is such a huge inspiration to me. He was my teacher and friend and if he would just move to Denver and open a salon, I wouldn’t be needing to write this current blog post.

So here I am now, attempting to get a job in the beauty industry when I am sneaking up on 37 years of age. This job I am trying so hard to get isn’t much more than slave labor traded for advanced education. I need not be skilled. I just need to have a good personality and look the part. I am beginning to think that I would have equal success trying to be an actress in Hollywood at this age. Or my personality is no longer one that is desired in the world. Either way? Awesome. Has my option for greatness simply expired? Am i just too late? If 40 is the new 30, how can 36 be the new retirement age?

While attempting to get a job, I have been mastering my housewife skills. I cook and I clean. I go to the gym and I read. I take care of our pets and I occasionally blog about my garden. And I am here to tell you that it all sucks. No one cares how you made the tilapia taste so yummy and kept it healthy. No one cares that you swept up a pile of dog hair that was big enough to make a whole new dog with. No one cares that you painted the living room a beautiful shade of green. No one cares that squirrels are eating your tomatoes and certainly no one cares that you ran your ass of at the gym this morning, like you may or may not do every morning. and really, no one should care. it is just that i care so much about all of these trivial things because, right now, they are all i have. and it making me bonkers.

well thank god for one person. And that person is this old guy at my gym who always says to me “how is your foot? looking good! Keep up the good work!”. he remembers when I screwed up my foot a while back. He likes to check in with me. for some reason, he actually does care that I ran my ass off at the gym this morning, like I do every morning. There are some days when he is the only person i speak to, besides Neil.

I doubt this rad old man knows that I am struggling with unemployment and thankless housewifeitude. He doesn’t know that I feel invisible and useless. I never told him that I haven’t slept through a whole night in months. He just sees me working hard and acknowledges it. He actually sees me and it always makes my day. I want to be him when I grow up. Or at least I would like to cut his hair when I get a job.

crankypants

i am total crankypants today. i may be getting sick. i am definitely getting older. getting a job has proven to be a much harder and longer process than i had anticipated. and i am pretty sure that Americans are losing their minds. not all of them....just the ones who bring assault rifles to health care rallies and the "birthers" (same people? i say yes). my god what a hilarious term "birther" is! because really, even besides the conspiracy theory, what group of people is more obsessed with everyone else's birth? it's all the same people, folks! it would be hilarious if it wasn't so terrrifying.

Whilst watching The Daily Show last night, Neil and I had our 512th conversation about how republicans are liars and democrats are pussies and my god isn't the whole thing just so boring and depressing at this point? oh and don't forget the terrifying. and the funny on comedy central between the hours of 11pm and midnight (one hour earlier for Central time!)

anyways so yeah i am cranky. and since i can't watch The Colbert Report 24 hours a day, i go back to my garden.

We are having an abnormally less than blazing couple of days here. a leaf fell from our beautiful black locust tree and i did declare out loud "no fall! i am not ready for you, yet!".

i have yet to taste my mortgage lifter, for one.
but also i am just not done having the place to tend. keeping the masses of basil from flowering could be a full time job in itself. the marigolds grow so crazy that they eclipse my chives, which is not okay. 3 of my five tomato plants have collapsed under the weight of themselves. since i can't possibly restake them, i just do what i can to keep the fruit off of the ground. the cucumbers need to be told where to go (up the sunflower stalks), and i am just the person to tell them that. in the land of cranktastitude, my garden really sets me straight.

there is no lying there. no bullying. no assault rifles (concealed or unconcealed). there is one conspiracy theory but it only involves squirrels and strawberries. and i have a job there which pays really really well.

go away Fall. I am just not ready for you yet.