Woke up to the usual chatter of my lovely boys in their bedroom. One is in the crib, one is rolling around on the floor. Richard is making monkey noises, his specialty. He's jumping up and down in his crib in his best imitation of a monkey. Vincent is encouraging him by carefully pretending to dole out "monkey chow" and bananas. I open the door to all the hooting and hollering where a very serious zookeeper tells me, "Monkeys LOVE bananas!"

Richard responds with a chant of "Bananananananas!"

I suppose I should be more careful when I refer to them as "my little monkeys" especially after the 1 zillion recitations of 5 Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed.

(but nobody said anything about jumping on the couch!)

Tonight Vincent was being particularly whiny about wanting this or that. Bill was trying to keep him from pestering me. Finally Vincent settled on asking to go to the park- asking over and over until Daddy said, "In the morning when Mommy gets you up you can ask her nicely, 'May I please go to the park?' and she will take you."

(I actually had other plans but immediately starting thinking about which park we could visit along the way.)

Vincent perked up in his seat and leaned forward to get my attention.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Vincent?"

"Mommy, you look GREAT!""

And he sat back in his chair with a satisfied grin.



I'm sure he'll ask me to go to the park in the morning. I'm not sure I'll look "great" at 7am. My little boy is growing up fast- he's already figured women out.

UPDATE: As expected he woke up and greeted me with "Mommy, you look great!" then he upped the ante by asking"Let's go to the store and buy TOYS!"

I tried not to gripe about how much financial stress I felt during our complicated pregnancies and difficult deliveries of both of our sons. I thought it was worth any amount, even an appalling six figure medical bill, to bring home healthy babies. And those babies sure are cute!

I tried to embrace the positives, like the fact that we even had insurance, especially when the job market was so tough. When my husband was suddenly laid off and I was unable to work due to pregnancy complications, we were able to maintain continuous coverage thanks to the fact that my husband's employer helped us keep our health insurance at a reasonable cost. I'm not sure if our sob story about trying desperately to hold onto to a threatened pregnancy helped or if they would have done the same for any other of their thousands of employees, but I appreciated the assistance and concern. There ARE compassionate people out there who want to see a happy ending to every sob story.

I was on a first name basis with staff in the HR office when I called them every month to have them re-send forms to the insurance carrier who inevitably canceled our coverage due to misunderstanding my husband's employment status. This mistake happened EVERY MONTH for nearly the entire pregnancy. I'm still drowning in bills and rejected claims thanks to that paperwork fiasco. It takes a lot of time and patience to repeatedly face these challenges, and I'm not known for having much of either.

When the recovery from my last C-section got complicated, we just rolled with the punches. Bill had a new employer, we switched to a new health insurance and either everything was fine and dandy or I was too distracted with two kids under two years old to care. We still get occasional medical bills that are confusing and need straightening out but it’s not too scary, just one of those things that makes me hyperventilate a little and want to cry on the phone as I freak out to billing reps. Hey, that’s pretty normal, right?

Then I noticed that the copays were going up. I was able to see lots of specialists and got referrals for everything I needed but the out of pocket cost was getting pretty high- high enough to make me want to cut back on seeing anyone in the medical profession. (Well, I still had dinner with my sister the MD but she doesn't charge. Much.) And after months of recovery I just didn't feel any better. My acute problems from falling down stairs while hugely pregnant and having surgical complications after the second C-section became chronic issues and the treatments were less and less effective. This is the thing that frightens me: having a chronic, difficult to treat, pre-existing condition. Health insurance companies don't like that. It’s expensive even with good insurance and I worried about having to pay for my own treatments or losing our group coverage. Luckily my husband got us covered through his huge employer and I think we're safe, hiding among the thousands of other employees with complex medical needs. Nothing to see here, just a little family with cute kids, move along. "These are not the drain on the healthcare system you are looking for. Move along."

In case my Jedi mind tricks didn't work, I continued to be paranoid about losing our insurance coverage. I just checked the status of the hospital bills for my recent surgery. I had a short stay after pre-approved surgery with a specialist and my regular doctor in attendance and I chose the least invasive, most highly recommended surgical option. I got adequate care but still had a post-operative infection that landed me in the ER, then I had to be transferred by ambulance from my nearby ER to be readmitted to the more distant hospital where I had the surgery, which was medically justified and terribly inconvenient. So far the bills from one month of my most recent treatments are totalling up to about $77,000.

Let that sink in for a minute.

Things you must know about my youngest son:

• He looks smaller than he should for his age. He will use this youthful appearance to get away with anything. ANYTHING.
  
  
• He enjoys throwing away things. This is helpful when there are wrappers laying around, not helpful when you need to find your phone.
  
  
• He's learning about potties. Keep the lid closed and he's less likely to flush random objects.
  
  
• He has perfected his baby ninja moves, especially going limp as a protest against the evils of grown up commands.
  
  
• He has not perfected the trust fall and if you say "Time to change your diaper" he will promptly fall backwards onto the floor even if you are nowhere near him and it's a hard wooden surface.
  
  
• He is 15 months old and I dressed him in 3-6 month pants today. Pants that fit. I doubt that babies are concerned about their waistlines and requesting vanity sizes.

While I'm laying on my bed early in the morning, delaying getting up because it's a glorious weekend and Daddy is tending to the children, I hear the familiar thump-thump-thump of little footsteps.

"Hi Mommy." says the face peeking over the edge of my bed.

"Good Morning, Vincent. How are you?"

"I'm very cute!"









He sure is cute.

I knew I shouldn't let him start breakfast with the sweetest food. I gave him a bite of my cinnamon raisin bagel anyway, caving to his chants of "Wanna hava DOnut! Peeeaz??"

"It's not a donut, but it has the same shape. It's a bagel."

"Ba-del peeeeaz?"

Well, at least Vincent grabbed a banana on his way to the table and sweetly asked me to "hep eat banana.". My carefully prepared low fat sausage and cheese omelet was going to be ignored in favor of carb-laden foods. I let him pick his favorites this morning since we generally have no battles over food which is great considering he's only two years old. And he did pop bites of omelet into his mouth during his one-sided discussion of something unintelligible. This kid is surprisingly chatty after he got past his quiet spell when I was pregnant. I'm constantly amazed by his thought processes, when I can decipher them in his stream of consciousness toddler babble.

"Baby feeping."

I looked over and the baby was passed out, bottle hanging out of his mouth, tipped back in his high chair so I could see his toes twitching as he dreamed. I didn't even notice when the hollering stopped; we had already endured a solid 20 minutes of a miserable teething baby cries while Richard sat in the high chair rejecting every possible chew toy. Vincent had even tried to help, finding his favorite sippy cup of water and putting it in the baby's lap. He's interacting with his baby brother much more recently. Last night he walked over to the high chair and asked for "Taste baby food?" He often wants a sample of the mush du jour, but this time he took the spoon and gleefully jammed it into his brother's mouth. "Baby eat baby food!" he announced as he headed over to the fruit bowl, removed an avocado and pretended to take a bite out of it."Mmm, av-o-ta-do! Wow."

Vincent is growing into a very helpful big brother. Compared to the usual tug of war over toys it was nice to see happy children smiling at the breakfast table. Vincent kept himself and his brother entertained while I cooked and cleaned. He knew that the baby was safely contained in the high chair so he retrieved a few not-safe-for-baby toys and piled them on the table. When his super bounce ball rolled away he made a big production going after it shouting "Finda puple ball!" His pants kept slipping down and he had to hold them up with one hand. He stopped long enough to make silly faces at his brother, rewarded by giggles every time.

I make sure to sit down and eat with Vincent in the morning. I stopped myself from pouring a glass of juice and filled a small pitcher with cool, purified water instead. Then I served breakfast with great enthusiasm, trying to encourage Vincent that staying seated at the table was a good idea compared to rummaging through the toys in the living room. I want to get rid of cups with lids for him so he drank his water out of a tiny plastic shot glass, carefully holding it in two hands. Modeling the behavior I hope to see in my child means I need to drink water instead of juice and sit at the table, not run around with my mouth full as I multi-task. When the water inevitably spilled Vincent said "Oh no water. Wipe peeaz?" and I handed him a wash rag to clean up his spill.

And I tried to ignore it when he munched on something he found in his booster seat. At least he ate a good portion of omelet.

Vincent fell down the stairs last night, doing a complete somersault at the top and landing nicely on his knees at the bottom. He's fine and so is the beach ball he was chasing. I think Daddy and I were more freaked out than he was since he barely blinked before jumping up to play some more. I'm pretty sure he babbled on about "Do it AH-GIN... fall down- BOOM!" Disaster (and an ER visit) avoided.

The striking thing about this tumble is that it's not the first time- he fell down half the stairs before, tugging on the cat's tail as poor Dino tried to escape. That time I lunged after Vincent, snagging his leg before he hit his head but I tumbled all the way down. This was extra bad because I was 32 weeks pregnant, fully anticoagulated on heparin so my blood wouldn't clot and at a huge risk of bleeding. Also my ligaments were nice and relaxed in preparation for childbirth but that allowed my hip joints and legs to go in directions that they were never intended to move! I landed at the bottom of the stairs doing the splits with my baby belly wedged up against the wall.

After my tumble I reluctantly checked myself into the hospital for "fall down go BOOM" syndrome. I hoped to keep the incident between myself and my OB but no such luck- he called ahead and alerted the staff that I'd be showing up and I had lots of complications including the bleeding risk. Even the Security guards were on the lookout for me, I was met in the front of the Emergency Room with a dramatic rush of staff hauling equipment and a stretcher when I really just wanted a wheelchair ride up to Labor & Delivery. I'm still recovering from that tumble down the stairs even though it happened almost 9 months ago. My pelvic bones separated and displaced my hip enough that walking was impossible for a long time. Some nerves got pinched and lots of muscles are still sore. I went back to the hospital 8 weeks after delivering Richard and had a pain specialist/radiologist inject medication into my joints and muscles. The injections were supposed to reduce the inflammation enough that I could start Physical Therapy and get on my feet for the first time in months. The injections HURT and their good effects wore off quickly, if I had it to do over I'd skip the procedure.

I'm very nervous about the stairs ever since my big fall. We lured the cat into a better bed so he won't sleep haphazardly on the sunny steps. We have baby gates at the top and bottom.

Of course, even my Pediatrician reminded me that kids have to learn how to get up and down stairs sometime in their lives so why not teach them to do it early, with supervision. Vincent learned as soon as we moved. He was 9 months old, scrambling up the stairs quickly and slowly crawling down backwards. Richard is catching on now, he's an expert climber at 7 months old. But when will I learn to safely go up and down??

Oh well, at least it's not an escalator. I have a mortal fear of those: my numb leg with the nerve damage makes me feel unsteady as I ride, I feel like I'm falling forward despite staring at my foot firmly planted on the step. I think it's the striped metal and shiny sides that totally mess with my head. I actually have to give myself a pep talk and announce "Step OFF!" when I get to the end to tell my extremities when to take over walking again. I'm a bundle of fun at the mall or airports.

So we're stuck in a two story house and the stairs have tried to kill us a couple of times. I'm sure I can find a class to teach my children to do their own stunts around here. Vincent is off to a good start with his perfect dismount down 10 steps last night. And the steps are a wonderful counting opportunity, we all chant "1... 2... 3..." as we go up and down. I guess it's not as horrifying as I thought.

But I'm still investigating putting gym mats along the bottom landing, just in case.

When a co-worker prompted me for our thoughts on vaccinations, Teri wrote this very lengthy treatise regarding our thoughts and research on how we vaccinated our kids. I realize that this can sometimes be a highly controversial subject and everyone makes their own choices; as usual, your mileage may vary. But there's weeks' worth of research here and written so nicely and concisely that I felt it important to preserve. It may even be helpful to others if the search engines pick it up. I know there are many out there who do not advocate vaccinations; this is our opinion after much research and soul-searching, and I am NOT inviting that debate. Enjoy!

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Yep, vaccinations are a hot topic and one sure to cause disagreements between parents, so I tread lightly with a lot of "this is what I chose" and the reasoning rather than advising anyone else what to do. Same with circumcision, but at least that coworker is having a girl so no need to get into THAT debate!

Our opinions are based on the idea that we need to protect very young children from communicable diseases but we also need to protect their very new immune systems (don't mindlessly give them twice as many shots as we received in our childhood) and promote the healthiest balance as they develop. Handwashing is as important as shots for good health, let 'em eat a little dirt but use common sense. More and more parents choose not to vaccinate. Some pediatricians and day care providers dictate strict vaccine schedules before school age. New vaccines are available every couple of years. It's a lot of information to filter through. For viewpoints from both sides, we checked out these books from the library and used the CDC website.

• Vaccines: What Every Parent Should Know by Paul Offit (pro-vaccine)
• What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Children's Vacinations by Stephanie Cave (more anti-vaccine)
• CDC info (pro-vaccine but also a source for research references & technical details)

Teri wrote this "novel" to me when I asked her if she had any suggestions for a co-worker of mine of our favorite baby stuff to register for gifts at the baby shower. This info, in my opinion, is so useful I wanted to post it as a blog so that it would be preserved, so that I could refer other friends to it, and so that the search engines pick it up and it could be shared across a broader base. Your mileage may very. Enjoy!

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I'm going to assume he is a total noob when it comes to baby shopping & registries. I'm willing to bet his wife has more experience, if only from buying baby shower gifts.

Most of my friends are boycotting Target baby registries because their new return policy SUCKS- it's too strict. It is fun to wander around Babies R Us, you did it after the baby was born, even dads can find cool stuff and mess with it. Babies don't need nearly as much crap as we buy for them but some stuff is high priority:

You must have a car seat to bring your kid home from the hospital. :) Shirts, diapers, wipes will be provided in the hospital, after that you're on your own. You'll get some kind of hat for their smushy heads at the delivery, I didn't spend much on other hats for our summer baby, he moved into ball caps & sun hats pretty quickly. They make stroller "frames" that will clip on to most car seats so you don't have to buy a travel system (matching stroller/car seat). We get good use out of a cheap umbrella stroller once the baby is 6 months old anyway.

You can't have too many burp cloths or receiving blankets. Or bibs. Hope he likes drool. If you use a changing station at home, get extra covers for the changing pad. These waterproof pads are really useful too. Cover your car upholstery under the baby seat. Just cover everything- it's gonna be messy!

Layettes: Snap up onesies are easier to remove when poopy than the over-the-head style, Carters calls them "speedy exit creepers." I like the PJs that are a night shirt for quick diaper changes. There is a Carter's Outlet in Carlsbad that has AWESOME stuff and great coupon deals; their website suggests what clothes you need for a new baby. I especially liked the side snap shirts since they don't irritate the umbilical cord stump in that first couple of weeks. We're using sleep sacks since Richard never liked swaddling but many moms LOVE the Miracle Blanket or knockoffs. We have a nice new medium size yellow fleece Kiddopotamus one.

Baby bath tubs - many people can live without one, you just put a folded towel in the sink or the bottom of the tub & set the baby on it. I liked this bathing "pad" because it hangs in the shower & drains well, other bath tubs were hard for me to store. A soft cover for the tub spout so it doesn't bonk or burn the baby is good. Lots of absorbent baby towels & little washcloths are useful- all the slippers, robe & cutesy additions never got used by me & appliques scratch, I prefer plain towels. And I LOVE Burt's Bees Baby Bee wash & lotion.

Get a large enough diaper bag, I like having adjustable straps & clips to hold it on a cart or stroller. A folding changing pad & small wipes container is good for changes on the go. Those sacks for diaper disposal are great for the road. Triple Paste is our favorite diaper rash cream. Pampers Swaddlers are my favorite diapers, they're always on sale somewhere. You can exchange unopened packs of diapers for a different size or brand, often grocery stores will exchange them even if you don't have a receipt or didn't buy them yourself (like if you get them as a gift). A nice kit with nail clippers, comb & brush, snot sucker and basic thermometer is good- tiny emery boards are great if you're nervous about clipping newborn nails.

Entertain the kid: I just want one of these turtles for myself. Musical light up crib toys were more entertaining than mobiles for our kids. Links will attach all sorts of toys so they don't get tossed on the floor. Floor mats are awesome for tummy time (the opposite of "back to sleep" time). Then you can dangle toys over the floor mat, I guess they call it a "gym" and this was an awesome adjustable toy for us. We have a folding bouncy seat kind of like this one but it's dark blue with a toy bar, great for travel since it folds up. And we needed a very compact place to park the baby once he was sitting up, the Bumbo (with tray) or this bouncer/jumperoo work great.

Organizing all your kid stuff is a hassle. We got good use from the car organizers and diaper organizers. Bottle steam cleaning setups & dishwasher baskets are good too.

Gotta feed the kid & get her to sleep- this stuff is personal preference so it's stuff you end up shopping for on your own. A Babies R Us gift card is perfect for shopping for this stuff.

Nursing you might need a Boppy pillow or other support cushion (I kid you not, one is named "My Breast Friend"). Ask the lactation consultant if they have one in their office to try it out before you buy one. I swear by Motherlove products & their Nipple Cream works for mom AND baby- it's safe for chapped skin on both, lanolin free so you don't smell like sheep! Hospital grade breast pumps work SO much better than portable ones, theyr'e pricey to rent, insurance might cover it. The hospital supplies the tubing & a starter kit if you try pumping, then later you can go buy your own stuff. Bottles are switching to "safer" plastics that are "BPA Free" so they're cloudy looking & usually have silicone nipples. Glass bottles are back in vogue, with silicone covers to protect them from breakage. You shouldn't microwave breastmilk or some plastics so a bottle warmer can be useful (we're using ours again a lot now). Our reflux boys did best with the Dr. Brown's bottles that reduce gas but they are a pain to wash. Favorite pacifier in our house: Soothie brand. Awesome travel products: Take and Toss. High chair is not going to be used for a long time, I might go straight to the booster seat + tray if we don't have room for it.

Baby will need to sleep somewhere, if you have enough blankets anything becomes a bed. Sleep positioners didn't really work for us, we used the bouncy seat more than the triangular pillows. I'd wait until the baby comes home and figure it out based on what works. Pack N Play is great for travel & I liked the bassinet for our newborn.

Taking me out for some special dinners was FANTASTIC before our baby was born!

We're making small changes to our family web page and the photo organization is vexing me. When we were a family of three I would happily post monthly collections of Vincent photos. My world kind of revolved around him and I posted pictures constantly. Those monthly albums aren't as practical now that we are a family of four because:

• there are not enough hours in the day to upload pictures at the rate I did when I had one child who napped a lot.


• it's not useful to group photos by month after a certain age, I mean I don't see my family looking for milestone photos now that I am 458 months old


• I don't want Richard to feel shortchanged if there aren't as many portraits of him as there are of his brother so the new emphasis is on dates rather than children.

We've been through a couple of the less-charming stages of parenthood lately. I swear someone handed Vincent a manual on The Terrible Twos right around his birthday, he's demonstrated every naughty toddler cliche overnight! And not wanting to be overshadowed by his brother, Richard has gone all Jeckyll and Hyde on us, morphing from sweet baby bundle to moaning, inconsolable ball of misery every 6-8 hours around the clock. I'm convinced he's teething, his big brother got his first two teeth at exactly this age. So there are daily ups and downs since someone seems to always be crying... and about 70% of the time, it's one of the children.

Yesterday I listened to a voice mail from Bill on speakerphone while Vincent anxiously listened in to hear his daddy's voice The message started "Hi Sweetie..." so Vincent continued greeting me with "Hi Feetie!" for the rest of the day. How can you stay grumpy with anything after that?? He does this counting of "One, two, free, fev-en, eight, nine, TEN!" then falls down. When we were in Kathleen's back yard he gleefully counted and plopped down on his back then muttered to himself about the moon, the airplanes, birds, anything he could spot in the sky. Seeing him laid out in the thick grass gazing up at the sky was the epitome of summer time bliss.

Richard is on the go every moment he is awake. He speeds around in his walker like it's a race car. Watch your toes! He doesn't last long confined to the jumper or high chair. I fear our nursing days are coming to an end since he has no patience for being snuggled up under my shirt, he'd rather snack on a bottle while facing the world. Solid foods are more interesting and he's gaining weight well. He manages to sleep through the night even with his teething pain. There are parents who still have to get up nightly and it's very rare for us so I'm grateful, we have good sleepers.

One child is crawling and trying to stand (often at the same time) and the other is mastering climbing new structures like ladders and bookshelves. This morning I was exhausted from busy days of trips to the park, the zoo, the kid's water sprinklers and kicking the ball for hours on end. I just wanted a break, some down time so we could all physically recuperate. And both kids slept in nearly 2 hours longer than usual! We all got to sleep in late, everyone has smiles and it's a calm family day. That's my definition of bliss.

We resorted to TV watching with Vincent while I was on pregnancy bedrest and recovering from my surgical complications. I had some lofty goal of waiting until he was much older to turn on the boob tube but reality kicked in and we let him watch a few TV shows starting months ago. He just wasn't interested in cooking shows anymore and there is practically nothing else that is safe to have on TV when little ears are listening. I had to enter the bizarre and confusing world of toddler shows and identify the kid-friendly channels on our cable guide.

Vincent and I enjoy Blue's Clues (the Steve episodes only, please) and The Wiggles. There is a strong bias towards male leads in these shows, although the Wiggles are incorporating more dancers, tutus and fairies in recent episodes. I'm happy there are realistic male preschool characters out there. Vincent also prefers Ernie and Big Bird to any other non-human actors. I'm lucky that Elmo is NOT his favorite; I can fast forward through those parts and avoid ear damage from that voice. We agree that the old school Sesame Street clips (Grover, Kermit the Frog, musical letters and dancing numbers) are the best. This week Sesame Street was "brought to you by the number 17" so we're now counting up to 20 and Vincent has quickly learned the new numbers.

So far TV has been educational. Vincent can recite and identify his alphabet (except G and Q are confusing), numbers up to 10, most colors and simple shapes including ovals, rectangles and hearts. Polygons are next! (WHY do shape sorters challenge me to figure out if that's an octagon or a hexagon that you push into the elephant's stomach??) And he knows the names of all the characters in Finding Nemo, although I'm not sure it's accurate to teach him that turtles say "Duuude", crabs say "Hey, HEY!" and seagulls say "Mine!"


It's tricky to teach positive messages with commercial TV. So far the only feature length movies that work for us are Finding Nemo, Kung Fu Panda and Ice Age. Vincent may find his baby brother slobbery and disruptive but when the baby on Ice Age is upset or in need, he is extremely sensitive and anxious to make sure the baby is happy. I'm seeing him play with his brother more after a couple of viewings of "Ice Movie" and I think he learned peek-a-boo from an animated saber tooth tiger. He shares his Nemo toys with his brother and his stuffed Dory is a constant companion for stressful trips like the pediatrician.

I hoped to avoid brand name everything in our household but it's tough. Vincent has Cars and Thomas the Train themed stuff even though he has only watched a little of the shows. It's hard to find shoes and hats that don't have licensed characters. Last time I took Vincent to the shoe department, he wanted the sparkly Hello Kitty shoes because hey, they're reflective and have a "tiddy tat!" Many of his character items are hand me downs too. There is an unexpected benefit to some things he owns- his light up Cars sandals make him more visible at dusk and his very red hat makes him easy to pick out* on the playground.

There are plenty of times I feel like I'm battling against a tide of toddler marketing. My kid can get obsessed with a hand held fan so it doesn't take a lot to buy his affections. If I'm surrounded with TV and toys, there are still ways to control their influence. It's not all bad- we strive to practice moderation in all things. There's TV in our home but there are trips outside to the zoo, aquariums, parks and beaches each week. Vincent is OK with turning the TV off, he walks away from any scenes that are uncomfortable for him (like arguing animated characters) and he engages in lots of pretend play with his stuffed animals. I'm satisfied if there's a little Nemo fanatic in my house- we have 2 clown fish living here anyway.


*A simple tip I heard has worked well for me: to see him better in a crowd, dress your child in bright colors. Two other tips I haven't had to use yet are take a cell phone photo or write your cell phone number on your child's arm if there is a chance you may get separated and need to enlist help in finding them, like at the beach or zoo. The monkey leash companion has helped us stay together so far but he's getting bolder and has already mistakenly grabbed the wrong hand to hold walking through a store. Where's the line between prevention & paranoia?

There is nothing that makes me say "Awww" faster than baby toes. Most days I just want to kiss my sons' feet, even the feet that no longer fit any reasonable toddler shoes. I tickled and kissed my toddler's plump toes as he rolled around on his bed when I came to get him this morning. A ray of sunshine shone on his fat foot. It highlighted the tiny white scars on his heels. Scars from the slices of an infant lancet, a necessary evil in the NICU for testing his blood each day when his thin veins wouldn't bleed enough. There seem to be too many scars for such a short NICU stay. I've seen preemies who had so many heelsticks done that they walked on their toes years later because the scar tissue was uncomfortable. I remember how swollen and bruised my son's heels looked for weeks after he came home from the hospital. I know Vincent walks on his toes when he is tired, a coincidence probably, yet I worry that I caused him this extra pain. I had the rotten uterus that refused to carry him long enough, it must be MY fault, you see?

Then I remember the IV sites, especially the one on his head. They shaved a tiny spot of hair, the site didn't last long and it left a white bump that was still there months later. I remember the day they did an arterial stick in the crook of his arm, after chasing us away from his bedside to do “tests” and how my cheeks burned when I finally was allowed back to his bedside after 3 hours of torturous waiting. Why did he need to be poked 7 times with a needle?? When it was my job* to start IVs on preemies, I never stuck them more than twice without consulting the doctor in charge. The integrity of their veins was too valuable, if I couldn't get access we needed to plan for the next step. Sticking an artery is not only a last resort (the higher pressure of blood flow makes it more likely to give up a lot of blood samples) but it has more risks (clots or inflammation can cause spasms and damage the circulation) and a LOT more pain. Arteries are deeper under the skin, more muscular and harder to puncture and they tend to be very close to nerves. On a small baby every drop of blood sampled is hard to replace so the tests need to be planned and spaced out over time to avoid needing transfusions or wasting that vein for a future IV placement. I was enraged and screamed at every NICU resident in earshot about how many times they stuck my baby for excessive blood tests... it was unnecessary and cruel. And worst of all I was shut out, prevented from protecting him, because the bedside nurse sent us away and refused to let us back in until their gory task was complete.

Over a year later when we were in the hospital having our second son, I asked the pediatrician to look up the blood test results from that awful day. After all the drama from that arterial stick, we never got the results of the special tests that required so much blood. The hospital records are all computerized now and the pediatrician had no problem finding the results for us. The defective gene for blood clotting, part of what complicated my pregnancy and required me to give myself shots every day, is present in my precious son. He carries the Factor V Leiden trait just like I do. Yeah, that made my mommy guilt much worse! The tests in NICU were to see if he might have had a stroke before birth, a clot in his brain or some other neurological damage that would explain why he occasionally stopped breathing and turned blue. The Neonatologists decided that his apnea and bradycardia (and poor sucking, slow weight gain and terrible reflux) were just preemie problems that he would grow out of and his brain was fine. No damage. No worries about his future development. Yet here is the test result that shows he does have a higher risk of stroke or blood clots in his lifetime. I smiled weakly and thanked the pediatrician for following up for us.

My son also inherited my fat feet. I always looked at them as God's gift to swimmers: natural paddles to propel me through the water. I love being immersed in water, I dream about swimming like a dolphin. My extra wide, practically SQUARE feet seem to help me in the open ocean. I'll accept the challenge of finding short, wide, fashionable shoes in exchange. I'll have to pay a little extra for my son's shoes too, but it's worth it.

As the morning sun moved across my son's wide, scarred foot I stepped back and realized what he was doing. While playing on his bed he pulled out a shape sorting toy, a big elephant with holes for different colored blocks to fit through, and he correctly said the word “elephant” along with naming all the colors. He even picked out the correct shapes when prompted, except for the hexagon but who puts those on a toy for toddlers anyway? I need to stop worrying about his brain. He certainly seems fine despite his dramatic first weeks of life. I'm working on being fine despite the birth traumas from both of my boys. The journey from enduring NICU procedures to chatting about shapes and colors has been worth every memorable step.



*our second journey through NICU was entirely different: when Richard needed an IV, his nurse offered to let me start the IV myself (?!?) plus I was allowed to stay at the bedside the entire time no matter what procedures they were doing. Either they remembered me from my rants from 17 months earlier or those particular nurses had a more laid back attitude.

Our son Richard Logan Smith was born at 9:42am on December 18 at 36 weeks weighing 6lbs 5oz, 18.5 inches long. APGARs of 9 & 9, better than anyone expected for a slightly premature baby!





We had another baby boy a mere 1 year, 5 months and 16 days after the first one.






There is so much I wanted to document about having our second child... but then reality hit. The reality is that I have trouble reconciling my pain and fragile emotions with the joy and blessing of having a child. I couldn't write about the great feelings of expectant joy because they were overshadowed by the negative emotions, the physical pain and the anxiety over how it would all turn out. I worried that karma would bite me in the behind if I chatted about how hard it is to be a mom, how many tears I cried, how many depressing things happened. We have these two wonderful little boys home with us now and that is a huge success story. I suppose the positive things speak for themselves, it's the negative ones I try to hide. I think that's why I've been silent on this blog for so long.

It's not very Christian to think you can control all the bad things in life or that you get punished for bad thoughts, I'm supposed to be full of hope and praise. This is my struggle, I want to control everything and I get upset when that doesn't happen. Having children will teach you about letting go of control. Last weekend we watched Kung Fu Panda which is a must-see on our movie rotation. (Yes, Bill and I had an entire weekend to ourselves while Grandma Smith watched the kids and we stayed home to watch kids movies. By choice. And we both really enjoyed it.) In the movie there is an exchange between the wise old master explaining life to the indignant younger master, how control is an illusion and there are no accidents. I chuckled at the parallels in my own life, how I demand control when everything around me happens in it's own time, on it's own path. I only succeed at making myself crazy.

When we were 10 weeks pregnant I started bleeding badly and I sat down sobbing, certain that it was a direct result of telling everyone that we were pregnant the day before. I've lost so many babies I couldn't believe that we would both survive this pregnancy. The physical complications added up making this pregnancy more perilous than the last one, especially because I hadn't fully healed from the difficulties with Vincent's surgical delivery. I went through strict bedrest, endless contractions, hundreds of injections (we added new and more painful shots this time), frequent emergency visits to the hospital, weekly appointments with my high risk OB specialist and the fears about another major surgery to deliver this baby safely. The first big milestone was to get to a viable gestational age, hopefully 24 weeks, then 26 weeks, then over 30 weeks and 3lbs when the statistics favored actually bringing home a healthy child. We made it to 36 weeks and 6 pounds (well, he dropped a pound in the hospital so I think of him as a 5 pound baby) and I adore Richard more every time I look at him. I still can't believe he's here!

My husband got me through those spells of disbelief. Faith, positive thinking, good medical care... I had all those things but I needed someone to cling to, someone to tell me things would be OK, someone to let me rage and rant. I got very needy- exactly the kind of wimpy, damsel in distress behavior that I hate. And Bill was there every step of the way, calming my fears as we endured a huge list of pregnancy complications. To top it all off we survived unemployment and money fears, insurance problems and oh yeah, the daily challenges of maintaining our newly purchased condo & the toddler we tried to keep blissfully unaware of our stress.

Vincent showed some signs of the stress. The most worrisome to me was when he stopped saying any new words and resorted to mumbling and pointing a lot. I'm a chatty person so seeing my son fall silent was especially disturbing. No worries, he's caught up and chats all day long now, even in his sleep... I catch him muttering about “applefaws” (applesauce) and “ba-bows” (robots) as he drifts off at night. He absorbed new language during his grunting phase and amazed me when he recently busted out with descriptions of colors, numbers, household items, all kinds of words I thought he didn't know. He will be two in July and I constantly forget that he is just a one year old going through this journey to expand our family over the past year. Of course there is a little jealousy and he battles for attention but he wakes every day demanding to play with the baby. Vincent talks about his brother “Der-Der” constantly now and is sweet and gentle with Richard. My favorite pictures are the ones where they stare at each other with fascination and giggle over something only they think is funny.






Nice baby, can we keep him?






I'm a full time mother now. We are finished trying to have babies, there were too many complications after this last pregnancy. I can accept that our family is complete with two little boys. I'm a little less arrogant about trying to control it all, especially after I got smacked down with extra complications after Richard was born. Now I'm too busy to try to control everything. I have my hands full! I get a lot of comments to that effect when I'm wrangling both of them into a shopping cart or hauling Richard in a baby carrier while Vincent tugs at my hand. It's a whole new world being the parent of two active boys under two years old. It's what was meant to be.

I knew we were the kind of people who become totally different after having a baby. The ones who seem to lose the ability to form sentences that don't involve animal sounds. (“The cow says 'Mooooo'”) It's finally happened... we're engulfed in parenthood. And we're loving it.

The biggest challenges in our life used to be finances or personal relationships. Our worries were confined to a bad day on the job or world politics. Now they center around poo. Specifically, can we go swimming with the munchkin this afternoon or is it cloudy with a chance of poo?

I'm trying to be very calm about it. There will be even more poo in our future.
Living with children is teaching us all sorts of useless skills. Our speech patterns are peppered with garbled toddler-isms and family members have new nicknames. Inexplicably* Vincent decided that his Auntie Kathleen is “VaVA.” It's stuck and she may be VaVa the rest of her life. If Vincent has his say in the matter, his new sibling will be named “Faaan” since everything that he adores in life is defined by his favorite word... FAN.

Yep, we're crazy enough about this childrearing gig that we're doing it again. We (cough) intended to wait at least one full year before having another one since I'm not getting any younger but God had other plans. These boys should be about 17 months apart. We will have two under two. Two under two.

It sounds like a great idea, then the reality of how the demands of parenting two small children hits early in the pregnancy: morning sickness vs. stinky diapers, bone crushing fatigue vs. a toddler learning to climb, swollen baby belly vs. storytime lap demands, you get the idea. I won't even start to list the pregnancy complications that require nearly constant bedrest and an enthusiastic toddler that wants to explore the WORLD (not just the same bedspread he's seen since he was born.) You get the idea.

Good thing we have a Psychiatrist in the family.


Once again, pregnancy has turned me into Beaker.





*Bill has a theory about how Kathleen became associated with the Va sound... Since she was a linguist tuned in to how children develop language, she made a big deal out of Vincent's affinity for the "va" sound, I guess it's an unusual first sound when most kids say "ba" or "ma." So her delight at his odd collection of babbling sounds somehow translated into a special nickname.

We survived the first year!!



Vincent had his first birthday in July. We are happy. Blissed out. After his rough start in the NICU and suffering through his bouts of reflux, he has never had a major illness. When he was 11 months old he had his first fever and I'm proud to say we didn't rush him straight to the pediatrician. We thoughtfully went over his symptoms and THEN rushed to call our pediatrician. And I probably would have been able to manage his symptoms at home for a day or two except that he stopped putting weight on his right leg the same day his temperature rose to 102.5 degrees.




With all my experience in Children's Hospitals, I know that fever of unknown origin is the real concern, so my first duty was to try and find a source of his illness. Was he teething? No, his teeth looked the same as they had since he was 9 months old. Did he pull at his ears or have a stuffy nose? Nah, no signs of discomfort there other than an adorable habit of clutching his head when confused or told "No." He was just cranky beyond belief, bursting into tears if his favorite book was out of reach or if the cat snubbed him. Recently he had taken 3 or 4 steps unassisted between one piece of furniture and another, a new milestone in the cruising he'd been doing since 8 months. Then he suddenly sat down, acted like his right leg hurt and refused to let us manipulate it, even during diaper changes. That set off alarm bells for me; I was worried he might have an infection in one of his joints. So we were off to the doctor's office, where they found spots on his tonsils indicating a virus (source of fever? Check!) and suggested the leg thing could be a muscle ache but if he didn't show improvement by the next morning, we'd head to the hospital for X-rays. Our pediatrician is great, he would meet us at the Children's Hospital 30 miles away on a Saturday if necessary. There was no need for concern, the fever was easily controlled with Tylenol or ibuprofen, Vincent started putting weight on his leg again and everyone was happy again.

One nagging concern plagued me: I thought it was weird that he refused to take steps anymore and returned to crawling like a mad man. So of course I fretted over his muscle tone and development for the next 8 weeks until he resumed cruising and taking occasional steps. I didn't need to worry, he was up and staggering by his first birthday. He mastered running not long after that. It's the funniest thing to see a toddler react to a stubbed toe! They're like, "Hey, who hit me on my foot? I couldn't have caused that!"


Around this time I signed up for a couple of local mommy groups, the kind that meet at parks and playgrounds rather than play "dates" in each others home. Vincent and I were going to the beach anyway so we simply adjusted our visits to coincide with these other moms and tots. I was out walking the boardwalk with him in the stroller twice a week, hitting the local playgrounds each afternoon and taking picnic lunches to the libraries and street fairs. We had found our stride as mommy and baby companions, going on adventures, exploring new community areas and making friends over graham crackers and sand shovels.



The parks and libraries near us are fantastic. I quickly learned the pros and cons of each activity: this park has sand and wood chips, not good if you don't want to be cleaning out the cracks & crevices afterward, this one has slides that are too hot by mid-afternoon, this one has water features that delight everyone as long as you have a towel. I learned that kids will eat sand (mmm, salty!) and it can leave a mean diaper rash on it's way out. Taking along a basin to fill with salt water while sitting on the packed sand and referring to the receding waves as "bubbles" helps entertain a toddler who loves playing in water but gets freaked out by the splash of sea spray.


Unfortunately we aren't spending much time with the mommy and tot groups anymore. I was so thrilled to have that special time for adventures with Vincent and we'll get back to it soon. Our adventures are based around the home now, enjoying the toys he got for his birthday and spending quality time with Daddy. We liked having a baby around so much, we decided that if having one was good, TWO must be better.

The newest addition to our household is due in January 2009. We're expecting baby #2 with our repeat C-section scheduled for December 18, 2008. That would let us be home by Christmas, ready to settle into life with two under two.

How bad can two be?

OK, I can come to grips with it.

Vincent is 9 months old. That's three-quarters of a YEAR. That's toddler-in-training territory. That's terrifying!

(I alliterate when I'm anxious, can you tell?)

The whole "how do they grow up so fast" sentiment is overused and I'm sure you'll agree with me about it, so I'll get to the specifics. We have survived 9 months of getting to know each other, forming our family dynamic and we're pretty pleased with the whole deal. Our son sleeps well (it's rare for him to wake during the night) and is growing at an appropriate rate. He eats like a champ. His Grandma calls him "a fooder" and I think he's never tried something in his mouth that he didn't like.

The problem is that he is reluctant to swallow something if it is offered at mealtimes. Piece of lint on the floor? He'll down that with gusto! Attractive, lovingly prepared homemade mash of veggies or fruit? Gah. The expression on his face when you strap him into a seat and offer him a spoonful of deliciousness is priceless. He presses his lips shut and wiggles sideways and fights you about the first bite. ONLY the first bite. Once it's in, he grimaces with a mixture of horror and delight and then regains his senses, ready to snarf down anything edible on his tray. Then he follows it up with a side of inedibles.

This kid loves his food. He'd love your food too, if you let him see it. So why does he clam up and give me the furiously shaking "NO!" face every single time when I approach him with that first bite?

He does that because he's human.

I made a crude analogy to my own experience as we are preparing to move into our new home. I've been presented with this wonderful experience and I refuse to open up and enjoy it. I squirm and fight and complain... and yet I'm famished and can't wait to fill up on the goodies. I've caught myself acting like this before, when I found the man of my dreams, when I was expecting the baby of our dreams. It's just my selfish, scaredy cat nature telling me that I won't like it.

I just need to get past that first bite.

One of the many uses for this blog space is to share ideas and helpful hints. We have plenty of opinions on a variety of topics and will be glad to bore you with tales of domestic chores. I mean, we're the only couple I know who fuss at each other about who gets to do the dishes! (Bill does them due to a rule called "You cook, I do the dishes" in case you were wondering.)

Here's what I have to offer about shoes:

Got stinky shoes? You can deodorize them with a couple of common household items: wadded up dryer sheets or clay cat litter (fragranced or unscented) put into a sock or stocking can be stuffed into your shoes and sneakers. It works. Simple, effective and cheap- my favorite combo!

I put the cat litter sachets in my shoes and our cat, who suffers from a compulsive need to steal stinky shoes, leaves them alone. I've heard burying super stinky shoes in a pan full of cat litter WILL get rid of the worst sneaker funk but I don't recommend it if you have a cat. You could end up with a very confused kitty.



Baby shoes can be so hard to buy. I loved the early months when our little guy waved around his tiny, pristine toes and they were just kissable and smooth. Now he's toddling or crawling through all kinds of dirt and his feet are ridiculously grungy. How do you get dirt out from under baby toenails?? I've been using a soft baby toothbrush as a nailbrush in the tub but even so there seems to be a permanent layer of grime in the rolls of Vincent's toes.

Vincent has pudgy toes and giant block shaped feet, what my Aunt Arlene would call "Fred Flintstone feet." I've had a terrible time finding baby shoes that fit him! The usual baby shoes are too tight or too long. So far I have found 3 favorite soft soled baby shoes:

• The Target line of leather baby shoes. They're affordable and so far they've held up for the few months that they fit.



• The original leather baby Robeez are nice but too pricey for me. I only have second hand ones.



• I stumbled across these super cute, nice fitting Vincent brand shoes online and when they go on sale, I stock up. I wouldn't pay the full price but their sales are great- usually less than $12 per pair.

Usually Vincent is an easy kid, especially at night. I know I'm jinxing it by saying so, but he rarely fusses or wakes once he falls asleep.

Recently he has been teething and this makes him cry in pain at all hours. I'm so unaccustomed to outbursts after lights out that it creates a guilty panic in me. What on Earth is wrong with my child??

Last night I went in to check on him when he started wailing at almost midnight. In the glow of his night light, I could see the tears falling down his reddened cheeks. It was truly pitiful. I picked him up, changed him, gave him a dose of Tylenol, rocked him- I did everything I could think of to make him comfortable.

When I finally laid him back down in the crib, it struck me how much he looked like he did when he was first born. Bill mentions each week how much Vincent is changing in appearance. His face is longer, his hair is filling in and he's so sturdy. There is very little resemblance to the noodly bundle we brought home from the hospital. Yet there he was in his crib, furiously chomping on a pacifier, gripping both of my hands in his fingers as he drifted off to sleep. He looked exactly as helpless as he did when he was 2 weeks old.





only 2 DAYS old






As much as he looked like a pitiful newborn, there was a HUGE difference: he was telling me "mommy, I need you." Oh how I wished for some clear communication when he was 2 weeks old, some guidance about what he needed or why he was crying. Last night, I was just told "I need you" in that iron grip and that sleepy gaze. I'd anticipated any other needs (dry diaper, good temperature in the room, something to soothe his gums) and he clearly says "Mama" now. Last night it was just communicated in his eyes, "Mama, I need you."





8 months old






And that made me cry.

Oh, and the fact that he weighs at least 19 pounds so rocking, cradling him and bending over him in the crib results in one AWFUL back spasm that may have brought a little tear to my eye as well.

So what?? It's worth it.

Hi there. I'm embarrassed to realize that nothing has been updated on this blog since Thanksgiving... of last year. We're now past St. Patrick's Day.

(gulp)

That means I haven't told you about baby's first Christmas, baby's first New Year's celebration, baby's first Valentine's Day or baby's first St. Patrick's Day.

That also means I haven't told you about baby's first tooth, baby's first crawl and baby's first head bonk. Yes, he's pulling up on the furniture and cruising along any object that will support his weight. He can run across the room if his hands are firmly planted on a push toy.

Vincent's baby days are disappearing at a terrifying rate. His dad says he looks different every day- less like an infant, more like a toddler.

We are duly terrified.

Well, I didn't want our blog to turn into nothing but tales of parp and boof in our post-baby universe. Today I am making a new resolution to post on a weekly basis. To accomplish this, I'm going to be writing shorter posts, adding reviews or recipes and trying to find topics beyond the wonders of having a new baby.

Now, here is your US RDA of baby giggles for the day:

Click to see the video.

We got more bounce in California than all y'all combined.

Click to see the video proof.

UPDATED February 2008

Well, the Vegas deal didn't last. It was a fun idea but it just wasn't meant to be. Now Grandma and Grandpa Farren will be visiting from Virginia as often as possible. It's a little bit more of a trip but at least Grandpa Farren gets to be retired again!

"What happens at Grandma's, STAYS at Grandma's" might be our new slogan. We just got the news that Grandma Farren will be getting an apartment in Las Vegas while her husband works there for at least a year.

Vegas BABY!

That means that soon both sets of grandparents will be within easy driving distance of our home! Having Grandma Farren so much closer than Virginia will increase our ability to visit. Vincent does great in the car and short flights are easy to get to Las Vegas. I was dreading the thought of trying to make it across the country with an infant when I know how grumpy I get traveling long distances. I'm really excited that my mom is already thinking about how she can come and visit with us too- who wants to be stuck in the desert in the summer when we live a mile from the beach?!

I'm really looking forward to building new traditions with our son and our extended family. As we enjoy our first holiday season as parents, there are so many opportunities to build happy memories. Festive things like getting a stocking full of nuts, candies and office supplies, with a tangerine stuffed in the toe.

Doesn't Santa bring all good children mini-staplers?



In other news, I found the perfect outfit to hide the poo-splosions we are now experiencing on a regular basis: camouflage onesie and brown pants. 'Nuff said.

UPDATED Thursday 12:00pm

I think we can call this threat officially whupped. There are plenty of fires still burning but they are in less populated and evacuated areas. Putting the fires out will take at least a week, maybe longer, but if they are contained, the threat to humans is much less.

I'm sure we'll see interesting effects from the fires as cleanup begins. Wild animals get driven out and there is lots of funky behavior from humans and critters in all this confusion. Just last Saturday, before the fires, a local high school found evidence of a mountain lion wandering around their football field. Things will get weirder before they get back to normal.

Our cats seem calm and relaxed now so I think I'll follow their lead. This is probably the last time we need to update our site about local events. Thanks for all the offers of help and expressions of concern. It's nice to know so many people are looking out for us!


Wednesday October 24
All is calm here tonight. Uncle Mike hasn't been able to return to either property but the reports say there were no homes burned on those streets so he's pretty confident they'll be OK. He said they are enjoying good food and TV on the boat for now.

Please remember to keep the injured firefighters in your prayers. There are still several fighting for their lives at local hospitals.

It's good to hear that the citizens of San Diego have put forth their best effort to support each other during this crisis. When they evacuated thousands of people to the football stadium, there were comments about how that had NOT worked out very well for FEMA before and yet our city showed that we can make the best out of a bad situation. The donations, volunteers and generally good behavior have really been inspiring. If you've ever been in Santa Ana winds for long you know they tend to make people act crazy and out of sorts (without any natural disasters) and they give me awful sinus attacks and headaches. Crime and nastiness has been pretty minimal during this whole week and that's amazing to me.

"Stay classy San Diego."

Looks like they reopened the freeway North of us Wednesday afternoon so we could wander on up to L.A. if needed. They are actually starting to say the worst may be over; the winds have been favorable today and we now have more firefighters and equipment battling the blazes. Expect the fires to continue at some level for another week before they are completely contained. Air quality is likely to worsen over the next few days but the weather is supposed to improve by Thursday, meaning less chance that the fires will flare up since the winds should die down.

New fires burned late Tuesday night at Camp Pendleton to the North of us that are moving towards the coast and have cut off our evacuation route to L.A. Part of the 5 Freeway is closed and the trains are not running just a few miles North of us, so for right now we are forced to stay put while we wait and see what happens next. There is no imminent threat to us at home as of Wednesday morning. The baby seems to be handling the smoke and ash; he's just moody like the rest of us.

You should have heard the footage one local station aired when they filmed next to the dying embers of one destroyed home only to be suddenly under attack from exploding ammunition that was stored in the garage. It sounded like irregular machine gun fire, leading me to wonder just how much ammo do my neighbors think they NEED on a daily basis?? Well, lets just hope nothing blows up at Camp Pendleton because I'm SURE they have more ammo than was stored in a civilian home nearby!

Just to give some idea of the scale of what we're seeing today, think of our neighborhood (and Kathleen's) as the green stuff and the burning areas as the red stuff. If the burning areas get any closer, I think we'd better swim out to sea!


Tuesday October 22
Uncle Mike has safely evacuated from BOTH of his homes as of Tuesday night- the one in Julian and the one in Rancho Santa Fe- so he and his wife will be staying on board their comfy boat just South of us. He sounds pretty upbeat for someone who has two homes threatened by two different fires!


Here are the sites I've been using to get the best information about the San Diego County fires:

http://www.sdcountyemergency.com/

http://www.carlsbadca.gov/fire/2007fire.html

And this map may help you visualize the local fires (there are too many to name). We are most worried about the Witch Creek Fire in the North County.

Air quality is bad here but there's no threat from blowing embers. We'll be home, stuffy and cooped up, probably for a few days. Thankfully no overnight evacuations, none expected for us right now. We're packed and prepared, meaning I've located all the canned fruit, filled the tub with water, put extra kitty litter in the car- wait, that's what you do for hurricanes and snowstorms! We just need face masks and extra moisturizer right now. 80 degrees with 5% humidity may sound nifty but it gets old after a few days.

Monday October 21
Talked to Uncle Mike Monday night and he is safe in Julian (the fires are South of him there) so everyone is going to stay put for the night. Tomorrow should bring more information about damages and the condition of Uncle Mike's other home. For now, no harm done and no one is living out of any shelters.

So far no evacuations for our family or Kathleen's home. They are ordering evacuations 15 miles East of us and about 3 miles South- our local evacuation center is a mall that is walking distance from our house, so if Kathleen needs to get away from her tinder-box-nature preserve neighborhood, she will probably come West to our place first. Then we can pack up and all head North in to Oceanside and even up to L.A. if needed.

The winds are gusting up to 60mph and our area has a lovely 8% humidity today (hey, it was only 5% humidity yesterday) but we try to increase that in our home with nearly 100 gallons of warm tropical saltwater in our fish tanks.

I should take this as an opportunity to let you know about my favorite lip balm, extremely helpful for these Santa Ana conditions when the winds suck the moisture from your eyeballs until you want to slice onions all day just to muster up a few tears. My favorite everyday lip goo is Kiss My Face Organic lip balm. I'm not a fan of Chap Stick or minty ointments, I just want something to throw in my pocket that has an appealing fragrance (Sliced Peaches!) and keeps me from looking like the Crypt Keeper. This is a must have thanks to the SPF and smooth texture and it's never melted in my hot car. I even rub it on my cracked cuticles.

Mmm, onion juice.

We're all at home while the county is burning. So far everyone has checked in and is safe. Uncle Mike said he is at his home in Julian and has no power due to the Ramona fire just South of him and his Rancho Santa Fe home has been evacuated, so we're hoping he'll make it safely South and West to either our house or his boat. His boat is currently docked at Shelter Island. If nothing else we can all head out to sea!! Pray that we are all spared total destruction- these fires are worse than the ones we had 4 years ago.

Local businesses are closing and the fires are moving West towards our neighborhoods but we have several major highways and business parks that will serve as fire breaks and keep us safe. We can walk to the beach so we know which way to head for evacuation! Kathleen and Sean headed to work but we expect that most businesses will shut down- Kathleen may have to stay behind and monitor the hospitals during emergency procedures. She IS the chief resident so her administrative duties kick in during times like this. Their new home is in a safer area than the place they just left (which was on the border of the area that burned down 4 years ago) but there are raging fires just East of us and these winds could cause all kinds of new developments.

I don't want my life to become nothing but stories about poop and barf (or parp and boof* as my brain reinterprets it.) Isn't that the fate of most first time parents? I mean, the first time we had a diaper blowout I figured it was worth a blog post!

(Aren't you glad I ran out of time to write it and then reconsidered??)

I still have lots of poop stories for anyone who wants to hear them. Don't get me started on the various benefits of different brands diapers... and that reminds me that I could use this web space for something with more universal appeal than just diaper stories. I can offer my reviews of favorite items and places. I can use this space to tell crafty stories about things we've done that worked really well for us. I can describe our attempts to be clever.

I have one main goal right now: I want to simplify my life- delete the spam, clear out the Inbox, start each day with a manageable list of To Do items. I hope to refine our home page and get to the core of the things that excite us: photos, nifty ideas, entertainment and family stuff. I like to think of it as a chance to have a laid back conversation with our family audience. Keep it simple, keep it short(er) and keep it current.

That should give me time to enjoy our little guy, maintain this web site and revel in the stories about parp and boof.

So keep an eye out for some changes to our layout and feel free to offer any suggestions! I'm thinking about including all sorts of subjects, from recipes and movie reviews to photo specials and video clips. Bear with me as we work out the details.



* I have trouble with mixing up pairs of words, like names of couples get switched around so that "Kim and Jenni" morphs into "Jim and Kenni" or worse, "Rick and Lynn" become "Lick and Rynn."

Unga.

It's been a big week at our house. Here's the scoop:

• We spent our first night away from the baby!
  
• He learned to grasp a toy while we were away.
  
• He also started rolling over once we got back home, so we got to experience another first together.
  

"Unga!"

Why does my husband have the uncanny ability to be too right about things?

Like when I went through weeks of justifying our scheduled C-section to everyone (feeling guilt about not trying to labor naturally) I always included a huge disclaimer that we were medically required to deliver at 37 weeks which counts as FULL TERM. Bill insisted on following up with a comment about how big the baby was at only 34 weeks and his prediction that we’d end up with a 7 pound preemie.

And he was right.

On the birth record it says I began labor on May 15th and delivered on July 2nd. No wonder I was such a grouch during those last 6 weeks. I was totally absorbed with the mommy-concerns about the delivery and Bill was paying more attention to the condition of our baby… and he was less surprised when we had a preemie. I’ve worked around NICU babies for so long, I was totally unaware that our 37 week, 7 pound son could be considered premature. To me, “preemie” describes wrinkled, red skin and thin limbs on an underweight, slightly spastic body that looks more like an old man than a Gerber baby. Prematurity couldn’t possibly be the diagnosis for our robust, smooth skinned, chubby cheeked boy.

Daddy on his first day in NICU

Kangaroo care

Graduation day! Ready to leave the NICU after passing his car seat test.

I'm amazed how four little words now define my world. First it was "Since we got married." Then it progressed to "when the baby comes." It seemed like such a long wait but actually it has only been one year. Now I have to learn a whole new vocabulary:





We had a baby.






We've crammed a lot into a year or so. Ah, the carefree days of married bliss- oh, wait, we barely had three months of that before starting this journey to parenthood. Well, the carefree days of being engaged- oh, wait, we barely had four months of THAT. We've been preparing for the rest of our life together the entire time we've been together! That's all the anticipation I can handle. Ask around: I don't do 'patient.'

Throughout my pregnancy I had no idea what our baby would look like and the only guess I had at his behavior was the fact that he squirmed and hiccuped like crazy. On the ultrasounds he was always grabbing at things or clutching his fists by his face like a little boxer, predicting that we would need to keep his little hands constantly occupied. I was going crazy wanting to meet our son and find out everything about him. Nine months dragged out into an eternity.

Going to the hospital was very intimidating. Yes, I've worked in hospitals for years but they still scare me when I'm the patient. I can tune out all the scary stuff when I'm a staff member but as soon as they get me undressed on a tiny gurney, I freak out. I do NOT deal well with being the one receiving the medical care! (see also 'does not do patient' above) Thanks to my loving, patient and incredibly strong husband I made it through many weeks of anxiety without really despairing that things would go wrong.

There were too many adventures during this pregnancy and the birth of our son to sum up in a neat, tidy birth story. We were high risk. We feared every day for my health and the baby's health. I had to inject blood thinners every day to keep the baby growing well. We had extensive ultrasounds to watch for problems with me or with the baby. The threat of premature labor and bed rest sounded much worse than they were in reality. I didn't have diabetes or high blood pressure. We were monitored very closely by many experts. Everything was going so well I think we bored the high risk specialists. In the last weeks of the pregnancy, the baby was measuring big and healthy and they really had to look for complications- generally the baby and I were in excellent health. We had the luxury of a scheduled due date. We made insanely detailed preparations yet we were totally unprepared in so many ways.

Our due date was at the end of July. I was not supposed to go into labor on my own due to physical complications of the pregnancy. The doctors had me in Labor & Delivery practically every day in the last weeks before our son's birth, making sure that he didn't arrive too early. We had a C-section scheduled for July 2 and I was anxiously awaiting our BIG DAY. Yes, almost exactly one year after our last BIG DAY. How cool is that?! An anniversary and a birthday all in one week!

We were scheduled to deliver early on a Monday morning. We had celebrated our anniversary over the weekend, first at the same steak house where we had our rehearsal dinner last year, then with a quiet Sunday afternoon listening to Irish music in the same pub where Bill proposed to me. Later I had a piece of our wedding cake (and it still tasted delicious thanks to the careful freezing done by the caterers) as my last meal before preparing for the C-section. It was a wonderful, romantic weekend.

The morning of our C-section I phoned Labor & Delivery as instructed after a sleepless night and was quickly told there was NO way we'd be admitted to the hospital since they were completely full. It would not be possible for at least another day. Yeah, tell the most impatient pregnant lady on the planet that she has to wait longer to have her baby and see if she doesn't freak out!?!

I gulped back tears and went to soak in a lavender scented bubble bath. It dawned on me that the Braxton-Hicks contractions I'd been feeling all weekend were actually turning into something stronger and more regular. I woke up Bill and he suggested I time the contractions and call the hospital back. A few hours passed and the contractions were getting more frequent so they told me to come down for monitoring but only as an outpatient; the very nice Charge Nurse said she was sympathetic but really couldn't do anything about the lack of beds.

Once we got to the hospital we were amazed to find out there had been a lull in the activity and they would perform my C-section immediately. While the Charge Nurse still wasn't sure where to admit me, they could hold us in Recovery while they hoped a bed would open up that night. Perfect: I would have the doctor I liked delivering my baby, the best anesthesiologist would give me my spinal (in between my damaged lumbar discs) and we'd get to meet our baby without further delay! I was thrilled and excited-and Bill nearly forgot to get the camera and pay the long term parking.

Everything happened quickly and before I had time to fret about anything, they were pulling out our son and showing him to us. He cried as soon as he came out and he peed on the surgeons for good measure. The brand new medical student fainted- it may have been her first time in a real surgery- and there were tears all around as the staff cheered for us. By my dates we were 3 weeks from our due date or 37 weeks exactly and the C-section was just in the nick of time. There was such a weak spot on the uterus it was transparent and if I'd had many more contractions, everything could have broken apart and caused real problems.

A perfect ending to a perfect year with my perfect husband: ah, the arrogance of thinking I was perfect struck me all too quickly. I guess I needed to be humbled a bit (hey, we did have the most beautiful baby EVER) so the roller coaster ride started up the hill again just two days after having our son.

We went from happy, exhausted parents recovering from a C-section by sharing a hospital room with our new son to parents of a baby in the Intensive Care Unit, facing the challenges of separation from our baby, medical needs and choices about what we should do next.






And yet was still the best week of my life: our son was born.

This is a six dollar burger for people:










This is a six dollar seafood special for lionfish:


MMMM, TASTY!




Bill brought home a new damsel fish yesterday as the last addition to our "aggressive" saltwater community tank. He carefully selected a big one that would be able to hold it's own in a confined space with other predators. As soon as he deposited the new inhabitant into the tank... Gulp!



The lionfish consumed the newest purchase in one bite.

At least now there is another big belly roaming around our house. I appreciate the sympathy.

I have a sick and twisted sense of humor, I guess. I laughed at this for hours.




And we won't have to worry about feeding the fish while we are busy having our baby next week.

Things no one ever told me about pregnancy:

• How I would shed so many EYELASHES (not to mention the rest of my hair) that it would look worse than the cat hair on my shirt and leave me squinting like a pirate for months.
  
  
• How the lanolin cream recommended for breastfeeding would leave me smelling like a petting zoo. “Is that ‘Eau de Wet Wool’ you’re wearing?”
  
  
• How I’d be set off by a quip from the lady in line behind me as I’m purchasing a criminally cute Finding Nemo beach ball in my eighth month:
  “Hey, this woman is smuggling a beach ball outta here! She stuffed it in her shirt!”
  
  
• How my relationship with any support garment/bra would take on pathological, codependent tones:
  

  “I can’t live without you. No, wait, I can’t stand you.”
  “Don’t you care about how I feel?”
  “I never want to see you again!”
  "Hold me."

• How “non-stress test” is a misnomer when they can’t pick up the baby’s heart beat on the monitor and the nurse grimaces as she searches for signs of a live baby, mashing on your belly and ignoring your increasing panic. Then they want to see the baby move and make the heart rate change. Trying to wake up the little guy so he’d perform the required fetal tricks, I drank a vanilla latte on the way to my last non-stress test but it backfired; he moved so much that they couldn’t get a “reassuring” strip and could only pick up his somersaults and hiccups instead. No wonder my stress and blood pressure were through the roof when we 'failed' the test, sending me to the Labor & Delivery ward to repeat the test in a new and scarier location!
  
  
• How the length of your uterus correlates to the number of weeks pregnant with pretty good accuracy- nifty, huh? 25cm fundal height = 25 weeks pregnant. Leave the high tech ultrasound dating for the first trimester; once you hit the second trimester you just need a metric measuring tape and you can pretty well guess how many weeks pregnant you are if you can feel the top/bottom of the uterus.
  
  
• How I would get stretch marks but only on one side (thanks to this baby having a huge noggin nestled into my right hip) and how they would appear LITERALLY overnight when he hit a big growth spurt in the third trimester.
  
  
• How people want to put a hand on your belly and feel the baby kick but they really have no idea what part of the baby they’re reaching for? I’d love to point out that my baby is kicking straight down towards my crotch (he's laying side-to-side, facing the floor, making it rare to feel him above my belly button) so they'd have to put their hand MUCH lower to get a good feel.
  
  
• How clumsy swollen fingers cause you to spill everything, staining all your shirts long before you can blame it on the baby. I have had to buy plastic goblets to prevent breaking any more of our good glasses and I'm hoarding the plastic kiddie cups you get in restaurants, especially if they have long bendy straws. I really need bibs to protect my own clothing!
  
  
• How hiccups become such a crazy, mysterious phenomenon to focus on when you’re feeling them second-hand. As the baby’s movements become more distinct, feeling a bout of hiccups seems adorable and funny… until they’ve been happening off and on for days, distracting you with repeated bumping against some nerve you were hoping could be left alone. And when they interfere with the measurement of “reactivity” on the non-stress test or getting a decent kick count before bed? They seem to go on FOREVER. I mean, how productive is it to spaz out with hiccups before you’ve ever been exposed to air?
  
  
• How hard it is to pee in the cup when collecting that routine specimen they demand at every doctor’s visit. Twice now my scattered brain led me to happily take the cup & label, set it up on the counter, go & pee, THEN realize that I failed to USE the cup. And last time? I took off all my clothes when I went in the restroom- but it was just the lab so they weren’t expecting me to undress and change into a gown. Arrrrgh!!
  
  


Pregnancy brain. Of all the things I miss the most, my ability to... uh... something...


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=53 Mon, 25 Jun 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

Bill made up this little icon guy and I thought it was the perfect representation to stick on our ultrasounds to show off what we were expecting:




Little did I know that this might be an ACCURATE depiction of our child.

Baby statistics for this week:

Currently 33 weeks, 6 days pregnant by dates.
Ultrasound measures 35 weeks, 2 days.
Overall, this baby is estimated at 5 lbs 6oz or 66th percentile on the growth chart.
He has been growing on or slightly ahead of the curve, usually measuring 2 weeks ahead. But his noggin? Measuring 5 weeks ahead! Yes, he’s scoring in the >98th percentile for head size.

(His arms are little - 36th percentile - and legs seem short - 28th percentile - but we will love him, cartoonish proportions and all!)

This baby has been monitored extensively throughout the pregnancy, carefully looking for any anomalies. Why? Because the mother is elderly! Because the mother has a history of not doing this whole build-a-baby thing very well! Because Mommy is a freak who spent so much time with sick children, it’s nearly impossible to imagine a kid being born who doesn’t have some huge, life-threatening problem! So Bill and I watch eagerly to find any hidden concerns in all these “Normal” test results.

I mean, how could we contribute to something NORMAL?!?

Bill is now an expert at memorizing the measurements that appear on screen in a darkened ultrasound room as the technician waves her wand and clicks picture after picture of the baby. We then rush to ponder what each number might mean as we wait for the doctor to come in and give us the results of the scan. So far each doctor (yes, every single one of them) has happily informed us that our baby is normal, the pregnancy is fine and the greatest risk is that we may have a child with red hair, but that is just a trait, not a defect. Hah hah, the joke keeps getting funnier. Not.

So this time, we had our fancy schmancy ultrasound and the doctor came in to give us preliminary results. Then our Perinatologist reviewed the measurements and both doctors asked us the same thing:

“Do big heads run in your family?”

Well, if you mean ego-maniacs, I must confess… uh, no, not to our knowledge. We leaned in with great interest to find out what horrible news they had to give us.

“I think you’ll be buying extra large hats for this kid. He’s perfectly fine, you’re already having a C-section so it’s nothing to worry about. He just has a biiiiig head.”

And then I think the Perinatologist pointed to me as he said, “It’s probably inherited.”

Give me the epidural now. I’ll take one C-section to go, please.



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=52 Sun, 10 Jun 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

Dear Makers of Tums,

As a woman entering her seventh month of pregnancy, I enjoy your products. I consume at least 100 of them each month. And I enjoy searching for new and exciting flavors. This week I bought the Tropical Fruit Ultra 1000mg chewable variety. The banana flavor is… interesting. The texture still detracts from your attempts at fruity deliciousness.

Might I suggest some new flavors? How about Chocolate Chip Cookie dough? Strawberry cheesecake? Cherry Garcia?

If you have reached the limits of your tablet flavor options, please notify me immediately so I can research alternative sources of calcium and stomach soothing remedies. I hear there is a FREE CONE DAY coming up.

Thank you,

The Pregnant Lady

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=51 Tue, 17 Apr 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

Have you ever feared the rise of zombie spiders in your bathroom?

You know when you try to take a bath but there is a particularly ugly spider residing in the tub so you wash him down the drain, only to fear he will crawl back up the pipes, breach through the tub stopper and attack you as you settle in among the bubbles?

Yeah, I worry about that all the time.

Perhaps it is because I spend waaay too much time watching documentaries. In an attempt to reduce my overall stress level during this pregnancy, I'm avoiding broadcasts of the daily news or thrilling dramas on TV. Also I've recently been challenged by the smarts of the ten year olds in our family, so I need to brush up on my science knowledge.

Today Bill presented me with "World's Biggest, Baddest Bugs" in HD. It is amusing to see our cats following the motion on the screen as creepy crawly things move from side to side. But I think it's giving me weird nightmares.

It's OK, I still have about 6 recorded episodes of my new favorite show to watch. We are HUGE fans of the BBC production "Planet Earth". I promise you have never seen such incredible views of life on Earth.

COOLEST. PLANET. EVER.

And we get to live here.

I have a few comments on the series:

We prefer the BBC original documentaries to the American version airing on Discovery Channel right now. Sigourney Weaver just doesn't describe nature with the same amazement and gravitas that David Attenborough imparts plus the scripts are edited differently.

BBC version has no commercials.

Generally there is little emphasis on global warming, pollution and bad human behavior. I just read enough National Geographic articles about elephant poachers and disapperaing ice floes to keep me feeling guilty for years. Humans are generally left out of the discussions here, except to note how few humans have ever seen this amazing terrain and the animals filmed.

There are short behind-the-scenes video "diaries" at the end of the BBC versions which crack me up. Especially when this one Scottish wildlife photographer gives descriptions of their terribly harsh filming conditions in 30 seconds or less. For example, to film on a remote Norwegian tundra they had to eschew all motorized vehicles and lug their gear on sleds for days in sub-zero temperatures. This Scotsman happily notes in his video diary that the first Artic explorers named their sleds things like "Intrepid" so he has similarly named his "@#%!-bleep-*&@#!-bleeping-heavy-unwieldy-piece-of-equipment."

I am perpetually amused by mating rituals in the wild and have a twelve-year old's tendency to giggle uncontrollably whenever they show the things that are considered attractive in the animal world. I'd show this to my kids without fearing too many grimaces or tears over sad hunting sequences (there is plenty of tension, no real gore) but expect the giggles. Generally this documentary is tame when it comes to sex and violence without any objectionable language, although the Brits refer to donkeys as "asses" (snort, snuffle, guffaw).

This is my new favorite show, ranking above "Battlestar Galactica" and I'm savoring each episode. There are a few other enjoyable selections out there. Baseball season has begun and watching the games in HD is nearly as good as going down to Petco Park. We saw "Children of Men" and "The Prestige" recently and I enjoyed them both. Bill is happily anticipating the summer blockbusters, even if it's difficult to get to the theatre with a newborn in tow.

Now I have to go check for zombie spiders or their vengeful relatives in my shower.



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=50 Tue, 10 Apr 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

I’m having an existential crisis:



If a dust bunny lives under the bed and no one is there to see it, does it really matter?


I say NO.

It can stay right where it is… until I try to pull out the box of wrapping paper that (cough) is buried (cough) in a 3 inch layer of dust. That’s when reality smacks me on the head with a DustBuster.

Right now I'm on "light duty" type of restrictions during this pregnancy which means my house will be good enough to be comfortable, not perfect. The housekeeping is going to fall behind a bit while Bill is working and I'm taking it easy most of the time.

I’ve been lucky so far to NOT need bed-rest to keep this baby healthy, but I have been suffering from some wicked round ligament pain as my belly stretches. It reminds me of what happened when I twisted my ankle: I was surprised by how a simple sprain can hurt, how hard it becomes to do the simplest things and how long it takes to heal. This time I have basically sprained my uterus.

Ouch.

I have learned a lot from this article I read in Good Housekeeping. (See, I’m using all that time in my doctor’s waiting room to improve my life!) It described how to accomplish “Good Enough” housekeeping. I’m all in favor of taking the shortcuts and finding the easiest way to keep our home ready for company. We love company. When are you coming over?

Here are the suggestions I’m finding the most helpful:

• Vacuum just the high traffic areas. Around here that equals the favorite cat territories and the paths we travel the most through the apartment. And the spot near the sofa where I inevitably drop crumbs, chips, etc. Anything that doesn’t require pulling out the vacuum attachments is best. We have a very high powered mini-vac that will catch the more creative spills and it sucks up the sweepings from the kitchen nicely.


• Empty the garbage cans before someone comes over. It really makes it seem as though we never generate any trash.


• Hide the mail and any miscellaneous paper. Although that means I now have a wicker basket that is hiding the secrets to my DMV renewal… eh, I’ll get around to emptying it eventually, thanks to a husband who FINDS the hidden pile of important papers and reminds me about them! I’m also famous for hiding papers, etc. behind books or under end tables- anywhere out of sight. Then I have a treasure hunt when I do a real cleaning!


• Wipe down the visible surfaces in the bathroom. Since I’ve already emptied the trash can, I grab the flushable wipes, TP, Kleenex- whatever is handy that I can flush away when I'm done. Removing any spots from the mirror will make the room seem to shine, even when there are cobwebs in the corners. And to hide those cobwebs? I light a couple of pretty candles. Everything looks nicer in candlelight.


• Clean glass with a vinegar/water combination, wipe away with newspaper or soft rags. We have a glass table, some fish tanks and ONE spot on the window that are really visible to guests, so I just do the spots that catch my eye from the best seats in the house. And…if there is a slight smell of vinegar left behind just cook something with barbeque sauce or burn a nice stinky candle to cover that up!


• Used dryer sheets work for dusting, especially the TV screen. They deodorize the garbage can too.


• A sink full of bubbly water will hide the dishes you just used to cook that fabulous dinner. I’ll also stuff everything in the dishwasher while guests are still present, then sort it out to hand wash or pre-soak certain items later. Sticking a dirty pan back in the oven gets it out of sight too.


• Grab a damp dirty towel and sweep over the floor in lieu of mopping. If no dirty wet towels are available you can grab a Swiffer Wet disposable pad and shuffle it around with one foot. Our house has two grades of towels in the closet: Fish Towels, stained & used exclusively for water changes and bathing the cats, and People Towels for us & our guests. Ask before you get one for yourself… please…


Our home actually looks clean...enough. I'm actually happy to see people when they show up at our door. This little article just helped me confirm that it IS ok to ignore a few things in favor of keeping your sanity.

Thanks to my fearless husband helping out with his awe inspiring housekeeping skills, I am not going crazy. We have food, shelter and a minimum of dust bunnies. This is my reality now.

(And can I gush a bit about how romantic it can be when a man comes home from work, does all the dishes AND has time to massage your feet??)


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=49 Thu, 22 Mar 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

This morning I’m having breakfast at home, a nice bowl of popcorn and juice. The windows are partly open despite the chill in the air, since I still have a hypersensitive sense of smell (possibly from the fact I smoked up the house burning a caramelized onion & gruyere cheese frozen pizza in the oven last night… good times.)

All of the sudden there is a rush of air like a slamming door throughout the house, all the windows rattle and papers fly and I hear a distant “boom” as though someone just closed a big garage door too fast.

I run in to ask Bill if he heard & felt that loud noise. Without looking up from his laptop, he says, “It was an explosion.”

He never broke his typing rhythm.

Man, I wish I could have that kind of peace during wartime.




(Later he said the news had reported that Camp Pendleton was doing “exercises” this week and hey, wasn’t I used to weird glows and booms after living around military bases all my life??)


[bonus points if you recognize the lyrics to the Talking Heads song
“Life During Wartime”]
]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=48 Wed, 7 Mar 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

We've officially reached the half-baked point in this pregnancy. Phew! Twenty weeks down, an eternity left to go...

I thought the months of all-day-and-especially-at-night sickness were never going to end. I worried too much about things going wrong. I came down with every symptom of pregnancy and even invented a few new ones.

Bloating? Check. Moody? Double check. Forgetful? Ummm, can't remember... oh yeah, check. Digestive troubles? OH YEAH. My father had a great term that sums up my daily condition: "frusterpated (adjective) : a combination of the words frustrated and exasperated to indicate the condition of being both simultaneously." Only in my condition, substitute "constipated" for "exasperated." I think that says it all.

I was having my breakfast of popcorn and apple juice (yes, food from the Teri-atric menu) and forgot what I was doing between the fridge and the table. I brought the apple juice over and poured it on my popcorn instead of pouring it into my glass. Didn't even notice what I had done at first, until I reached into a bowl of soggy kernels.

Too bad, that popcorn smelled good and I don't have any more. Well, I'll have pickles and cheese for breakfast instead.

I've adopted a Muppet persona in my pregnant state: I'm Beaker. The tiniest thing sets me off, I whimper in a voice on only dogs can hear, I'm prone to insane amounts of fidgety-ness and I'm not good if you give me caffeine.

Much like THIS:



And I think I'm the only pregnant woman who has ever been told by her doctors to START drinking caffeine, as a treatment for my bad migraine headaches. Please have sympathy for my husband and any others who get caught up in my manic path to motherhood!!

(And no, I shall NOT inform you of the results of any boiled cabbage experiments.)



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=47 Mon, 5 Mar 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

Our dear friends, Brad and Cliff, lost a member of their family recently- the eldest dog of their Borzoi pack passed away quietly from old age. Alexei was a stately, dignified old man who enhanced our family holidays for the past few years. Ever since they moved close to us, we been visiting and occasionally dog-sitting on the weekends. We've enjoyed the energy of the puppy, Maeve, and the company of the mild mannered red-headed girl, Lily, but Alex was always the one in control of the house. Bill & Alex seemed to have a special communication. Something to do with a sincere enjoyment of the best spot on the sofa and good food?

If you've never seen a Borzoi in person, they are amazing! We made a short video of the remaining pack members, Lily and Maeve, doing what they do best: running. Alex was there too but he preferred a nice spot on the couch (the whole couch) and a good meal to chasing unseen rabbits. Click on the photo to the left to bring up a 15 second video clip of what these dogs can do.

A new family dynamic is brewing, with the girls finding more space on the sofa and Maeve growing out of her puppy stage. We expect to continue enjoying many years with the Borzois as part of our extended family. Alex, you were one of a kind and we miss you!



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=46 Fri, 16 Feb 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

I've been terribly upset about being labeled as "Elderly" on my medical chart. I kid you not: it says "High Risk Pregnancy- Elderly" under diagnosis.

I was battling stomach problems this week and soft, bland foods became the norm. I actually own prune juice now. Yeah, that'll make you feel young again.


Tonight in the kitchen :

ME: "I've had Ovaltine and jello tonight. It's like food you'd see served in an old folks home."

BILL:"We'll call it 'Teri-atric' then."



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=45 Mon, 29 Jan 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

Welcome back! I've been off on a morning sickness hiatus.

It's been a great 2007 so far. I keep getting reminded of that fact by Bill. He has an unfailingly happy attitude towards all the changes going on right now, while I remain cat-like in a sincere effort to store up sleep for next summer. Me-ow.

I have finally found a doctor I like and we are off to a great relationship. This is SO much better than my previous experience! I mean, the man is a Department Head at the University, has hundreds of patients each week yet he gave me his cell phone number AND his email. Told me I can email him every day if it helps me relax about this pregnancy. He'll see me every week if I feel that something isn't right. For now I'm in there every 2 weeks getting a quick ultrasound to measure the baby and important structures and generally ward off any evil events. Oh, and to calm my insane anxiety. Well, I'm worried that my lack of skills in building a placenta will earn me an 'F' on each exam, so I go running to the professor for extra help every 2 weeks. So far everything looks great!

We had a genetic screening because of my "advanced maternal age" risk factor for Down's syndrome or other trisomy. We're not doing amniocentesis; instead they can give you a special ultrasound and draw some blood to see if there is any evidence of these conditions in the baby. It turns out we not only got to see really cute images of the baby at a mere 12 weeks old, but they found no evidence of any trisomy so my risk is now that of the average 20 year old mother. Now take the word "elderly" off my chart!!!

So all is well here. I'm totally baby obsessed. We've been given a crib and a rocker so far. I'm a little scared to buy anything more for the baby at this early stage, so I satisfied my need to shop by finding all sorts of great maternity wear. I love online shopping!

This week's ultrasound I think they had the resolution turned up so they could see bones. I still think the baby is cute. Looks just like his/her father.




Every family has a few skeletons in their closet, right?




]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=44 Sat, 27 Jan 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

Today Bill was taking out the garbage so I took the opportunity to throw out all the half-eaten containers of spoiled food that littered our fridge. They were mostly restaurant leftovers (from meals where I happily ordered a huge dinner only to gag and yell “Take it away! TAKE IT AWAY!!” when the waitress finally arrived with our food) plus a few Christmas goodies that had seen better days.

After purging the fridge of the offending items, I showed Bill.

He cautiously sniffed around.

“Did you get rid of whatever was making that smell?”

“What smell?”

“You know, that smell like sweet baby diapers.”

“(snort, snuffle, cough, giggle) ‘Sweet baby diapers??’… That’s the best replacement for a curse word I’ve ever heard of!”


So the next time a waitress brings me my meal with (gasp) ONIONS on it, I can exclaim, “Sweet baby diapers! This isn’t what I wanted!”



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=43 Tue, 9 Jan 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

Sorry we’ve been MIA over the holidays. We had a wonderful time visiting family and friends and celebrating Christmas and ringing in the New Year. We put up some pictures. We're doing very well overall. There are just some strange transformations going on at our home.


It seems I have become one of my cats: I spend all day sleeping with occasional forays into the living room to whine loudly and search for food. Thankfully I have a supportive husband who not only permits this, but encourages me with gifts of chocolate milkshakes (for the baby, of course.)


The doctors confirmed that we are going to have a baby. I couldn’t believe it from ten just a few home pregnancy tests and a series of positive blood tests. I needed proof! Where is my glow?! Why aren't I moved to tears by the sheer deliciousness of a chocolate milkshake??

I wanted to KNOW there is a baby growing and that everything is O.K. So I prayed for reassurance, for more than just beta-hCG levels and fuzzy ultrasounds to prove that there was a new life on the way. I wanted to FEEL pregnant.

As I hang my head over the sink for the fifth time today, I have to laugh at myself for being so anxious to start this pregnancy rollercoaster. I wanted to be woken up eight or ten times a night by the various discomforts as my body was changing? I wanted morning sickness, to let me know my hormone levels were nice and high? I wanted to have a big round belly (well, not THIS early, I think that’s the gas...) and I was totally stoked about getting the doctors to prescribe some wildly expensive treatment so I could prevent a miscarriage? Now as I poke myself daily with that very sharp needle full of blood thinners I realize that it HURTS having to do all these things to build a baby.



And yet we keep grinnin' like a couple of fools every time Bill has to remind me, "All that puking means we're havin' a BABY!!!"




Alas, there’s no glowing here. That’s just an oil slick from the acne. Who invented this idea that pregnant women have beautiful skin?? My father-in-law pointed out my nice, Christmasy GREEN coloration so you might have noticed that I ducked out of nearly every photo over the holidays. I have used the words “struggling” and “uncomfortable” so many times in this first trimester, I think they’re off limits for the rest of this pregnancy.

But it's all worth it. We're gonna get to be parents someday, right around our first anniversary to be more specific.

Now where is my freakin’ glow???



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=42 Fri, 5 Jan 2007 00:00:00 PST Teri

Becoming parents was a top priority as soon as we got married and luckily my dear husband enthusiastically agreed there was no need to wait. There certainly are some perks to finding a REAL man, one who is mature and thoughtful and baby crazy on his own. He even has a rudimentary understanding of the whole biology thing and is committed to helping me find the best doctors and the healthiest plan of attack for our future as parents. Adoption is a popular topic at our dinner table.

We spent a huge amount of time weighing the options and looking for answers to difficult questions. Finally we had a direction, we had action items, we had...



The Plan:

• Get married.


• Switch my insurance to Bill’s HMO.


• Find a good primary care physician who would refer me to specialists for advice. (Bonus- we got a Genetic consultation too, from this incredibly nice guy named Jason who confirmed that red hair is a desirable trait, not a genetic defect!!)


• Hope for a healthy pregnancy protected by baby aspirin, daily injections of blood thinners and a lot of prayer; we're battling a few complications like my blood clotting disorder and prior surgeries for fibroids and endometriosis plus "advanced maternal age" (phbbbbt!).


• Boost our chances by charting fertility with obsessive attention to a thermometer and little marks on a calendar.


• Find the cheapest, reliable source of home pregnancy tests. Stock up on martinis in case it comes up negative. Go another 3 weeks. Lather, rinse, repeat.


• Cross our fingers and dream of babies with beautiful green eyes and red, red hair.


• Investigate adoption in case the ovaries gave up years ago and we missed the memo.


And life went on. It actually went pretty fast.

Wedding: CHECK.
New doctors: CHECK.
There were meetings, updates, evaluations. We are mighty efficient when we team up. Officially, “The Plan” was in full effect for two months.

After the second round of wasted home pregnancy tests, I was thinking about martinis. Bill and I were entertaining later in the week so we headed to the store to stock our bar. We debated on which bottle of vodka to buy: the smaller, discreet one or the big discount one (which we could camouflage in a nice decanter so our guests wouldn’t think we were total lushes).

Anticipating the power of PMS in a baby-obsessed woman, I told him to get the big bottle. The biggest bottle they sold. Purely medicinal- hey, my dad once gave me moonshine mixed with 7-Up and maraschino cherries because in the South, there’s some old wives tale about how it helps cure “the female troubles.” Personally I think it just sedates “the female” so there’s less trouble.

Somewhere in there I made a lame joke about with my luck, he'd end up getting to finish the whole bottle himself because pregnant women can't drink caramel-apple-tinis. It didn't disguise my bitter, infertile disappointment and it didn't get any laughs. We stopped on the way home to try a new steakhouse while Bill did his best to cheer me up. Mmm, steak.

The next morning, since my monthly “friend” still hadn’t shown up, I decided to try one last home test (despite the 6 or 7 negative ones I’d already reviewed that week, including the ones promising Early Results! Test 5 days before you think you should!!). I like a lot of information. Can you tell?

They have these newfangled digital tests that actually spell out “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant” in an attempt to foil those of us who would imagine we see 2 lines in the little window when there is really only one (hey, I can do anything with Photoshop!). I had one of these on hand and I assumed it was going to tell me the same thing it had two days before… with cold certainty, in Arial font.

And then I got this:




And then I nearly passed out. Well, I doubted the veracity of those digital letters, so I rushed out to the nearest pharmacy and got another, more conventional test, one where I could debate the presence or absence of colored lines. You should know I already had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon to get some blood work done because I had some funky liver thing my doctor wanted to investigate. I wanted to run screaming into the doctor’s office with MULTIPLE sticks to prove they needed to give me a blood test for pregnancy too. STAT!



The second test showed the faintest of faint lines- I mean, you really couldn’t see it unless the light was good. I was doubtful and stuffed some maxipads in my purse just in case. I spent the rest of the morning composing an email to Bill that included the photos of my results and the heading, “The Big Bottle Worked.” Murphy's law dictates that once we had our martini bar ready to go, I’d be denied the sweet experience of mixing caramel-apple-tinis for nine months.

Then I spent my time online learning waaaay more than anyone needs to know about home pregnancy tests. There is an online community dedicated to home pregnancy test results, people with too much time on their hands and I sure was grateful they exist!!! I learned that the digital tests almost never give false positives and the faint lines can mean a bunch of things depending on the test. The nurse who drew my blood that day was happy to add on a pregnancy test but I’d have to wait a day or two for the results.

Could we actually be pregnant??


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=41 Tue, 19 Dec 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

We have returned from our vacation, a family reunion in Texas over Thanksgiving. The Smith family usually takes an annual road trip from L.A. to the Dallas/Ft. Worth area then on to Arkansas, Oklahoma and Missouri and we considered joining them. Bill and his Dad both enjoy driving across the country, even when it means marathon stretches on the road through flat, flat states... but it was not going to happen for us this year. (Too bad, I think all newlyweds should be confined in a car together for 20 or 30 hours to really find out how their relationship will hold up under pressure!)

Bill's company is in a state of transition and he got a new boss one week before Thanksgiving. It didn't seem prudent to ask for 2 weeks of vacation right when they were piling on a bunch of new responsibilities, so instead we shortened our trip to a quick flight out to Dallas/Ft. Worth with a brief trip to Ft. Smith, Arkansas on the side.

We were happy to attend this family reunion even if we missed out on the cross-country drive. I'd heard a lot about Bill's mother's side of the family, mostly because his Uncle Larry was the pastor at the church we attend now- which led to his father being invited to become a pastor there. Bill grew up living next door to the Vincent family so they have many friends in common. Our friend Darryl used to introduce newcomers to the church with "Hi, I'm Darryl and this is my Pastor Larry and this is my other Pastor Larry."

[For those keeping track, I now have 4 important Larrys in my family: my stepfather, my uncle in Hawaii, my father-in-law and my mother-in-law's brother!]


I'd never visited Texas or Arkansas. This was my first introduction to the extended family and I was understandably nervous. What would we have in common? Well, I could at least speak the language. I come by my Southern accent honestly, it's not a fake. Just get me on the phone with my Carolina relatives and I'll be throwing around "Y'all" and redneck colloquialisms in a heartbeat. And I know potato guns- I heard all about my Dad and his friends building their own out of PVC pipes and lighters. Turns out Uncle Larry has a "Spud Launcher" and we spent Thanksgiving shooting potatoes into a pond. You need a farm with plenty of space to fire them because those potato projectiles can travel hundreds of feet with a lot of force! This is not a toy for children.



Other things I learned on our trip:



• Lake Eufaula is very impressive. I mean, where else can I endlessly make the pun "Careful or Eufaula into da water." And they have an annual Crappiethon.
  
• Truck stops sell this lemon-lime salt that totally appeals to my salt & vinegar cravings. It's appropriately named "Twang." (I love onomatopoeias. Twang. Buzz. Splat. Love 'em!)
  
• Road signs direct you to Texoma. Sounds like something that should be removed by a doctor.
  
• It is a biological imperative that when driving past fields of cows, one must say "Moo." Imperative.
  
• The answer to the question "What do Oklahoma radio stations play the day after Thanksgiving?" is obviously, "Elvis Christmas Carols."
  
• Texans will put up a nice sturdy metal sign saying "Damaged Guardrail Ahead" instead of using that effort to repair the guardrail.
  
• I'm much more amusing in my own head when I sing "Ooooooo0klahoma" as we drive for 5 hours. I should NOT sing it out loud.
  
• There is a dollar store named Boy Howdy over the Oklahoma line. Really.
  

So what did y'all do over Thanksgiving? Boy howdy, hope y'all had a gud time.


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=40 Wed, 6 Dec 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

On top of another week living in paradise, I had was busy ending a relationship.

I had to break up with my doctor.

Well, not really my doctor, just a specialist that I thought I wanted but we were totally wrong for each other. Our few weeks together were truly dysfunctional.

See, I met him through friends, or rather through referrals from other doctors. The nervousness was unbearable. Will he notice my chipped toenail polish and reject me without ever speaking to me? What would we say to each other?? How would we spend our time together? (By leaving me waiting for 2 hours in his waiting room.) Would he pay attention to my needs? Or would he just ignore my medical records, then lose them. Twice.

Then it progressed to the phone calls, deciding when to meet again. He promised to email me within a week- I never heard from him. I called but only got his machine. This quickly deteriorated into a scene from Swingers:



"I, uh, just called to say I, uh, I'm really glad we met and you should give me a call. So call me tomorrow, or, like, in two days, whatever."

(hangs up then dials again)

"I just called because it sounded like your machine might've cut me off before I gave you my number..."

(dials again)

"OK, I just wanted to make sure you got my number. You should really give me a call. We can get together- soon. I'll be around so you can call me, anytime. I'd rather talk to you in person than try to squeeze it all into this message."

(dials again)

"Look, this just isn't working out. It's not you, it's me. I don't want to disappoint you... or seem weird. But call me!"




And with that, I never heard from this doctor again, except that his secretary intercepted one of my calls and said she wasn't allowed to schedule another appointment for me on his strict instructions.

It's over.

My husband thoughtfully pointed out that I can ask for what I need or I can try to make people like me. There are times when I can't have both. Another doctor said he has no idea how guys like this stay in business, he'd never get away with treating a patient so badly. The staff at this medical facility universally agreed this doctor has no personality and can be a jerk. "He's British" was the polite excuse.

I tried to let it go, to find another specialist, but deep down I wanted to win over this doctor, to change HIM.

You can't change another person.

So today I have an appointment with a NEW specialist. I even painted my toenails.

Do you think he'll like me??



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=39 Mon, 20 Nov 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

I actually turned down a job this week.

What on EARTH was I thinking?

I stopped looking for a new job weeks ago after getting turned down by a perfect sounding job. Now that perfect job is calling me back, practically begging me to work for them?? Well, it turns out the first person they hired “didn’t work out” and they need me to come clean up their mess. No thanks; I have plenty of my own messes to work on at home.

Then, just to tempt me again, I got hit up by some recruiters for a biotech firm. Oh, the money sounds enticing, but then the specifics of the job come out: paraffin sectioning (no, not the microtome!) and working with frozen tissues (is -80° C very cold?) and I just said “Nyet. Nein. Non.” That one was much easier.

Yet I’m still a little freaked out that I have job opportunities and rejected them without even obsessing thinking about them for days. My husband is perfectly content to remain the sole breadwinner, even my sister commented on how much better my health has been since I quit working. I just can’t focus on money too much- it’s a rotten trap to depend on 2 incomes to survive, to never be satisfied with what you have and to shortchange your family due to such expanding desires for more stuff. Do any of those divorcing Hollywood celebs seem content with their big bucks and unlimited spending capacity?? No.

I guess these are just reminders that mo’ money, mo’ problems and I don’t have it bad at all in my current situation.

A prime example::

We spent a long weekend in L.A. visiting friends & family. We got to go to Six Flags Magic Mountain with Bill’s brother and his friends. We visited the newly reopened Griffith Observatory.

Here’s my opinionated summary:



• Six Flags is for roller coaster enthusiasts. If you don’t like big, adrenaline pumping rides, you won’t find anything enjoyable here.



• $59.99 for adults + $15 to park is ridiculous. We paid $21 each thanks to the Homeschooler’s Private Party and that was my limit.



• Bring nausea remedies (ginger, Dramamine, sea sickness wrist bands) and use them. Often.



• Bring snacks. Skip the overpriced meals and hit one of the fast food joints on your way back to the freeway.



• Check online first for height requirements for each ride, closures of any rides that day. Get there early and expect to wait.



• Griffith Park Observatory has some serious snags in their new system of online reservations & shuttle buses to arrive at the park. Currently you cannot just drive up there. Expect to wait. A lot. In the sun.



• Shuttle tickets and Planetarium admission are not bad, $8 each. Parking at Hollywood & Highland (it’s actually Hollywood & Orange) is pricey but you can get validation from any purchase in the mall. We got a hot dog.



• Griffith Park has an awesome Planetarium show. Skip the huge lines and buy tickets at the Observatory from electronic ticket machines (they look like ATMs) that are squirreled away by the restrooms and by the café.



• Children under 5 are only admitted to the first Planetarium show each day. It’s very dark in there, they discourage getting up & leaving.



• Hollywood in general is overrated. We skipped the tourist stuff because it was crowded & messy on a Saturday afternoon. Allow plenty of time for traffic- it never lets up.



Here is why you won’t find us in amusement parks just to ride the scary roller coasters any time soon- a picture is worth a thousand words, right? Not working is probably the best way to keep my adrenaline addiction under control; when I have deadlines, emergencies and crazy coworkers I let myself get flooded with catecholamines and it’s just not a good way to live. But it’s fun for a few minutes in the right setting… at least I think so.


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=38 Sat, 11 Nov 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri
(upon finding a swatch of satin stuffed in his pants pocket this morning
which had disintegrated into a frayed mess)

Bill: "What kind of madness have I wrought on my pocket?"

Me: "Uh, I dunno."

I'm not a morning person and such dramatic issues go right over my head at 7 AM.

Madness in a pocket. I can relate. I even know why he has a swatch of satin in his pocket; something to do with a Halloween prop. I shall try to be alert for madness when I do laundry. The madness could spread: madness in a dryer, madness in a basket.

We know about madness around here. My madness manifests in pillows. What on EARTH made me want 9 pillows on my bed? I selected the bedding set, I made it up pretty, but now? I have to move 9 big ol' pillows each time I climb up there. I didn't leave room to sleep!


And it gets worse. Last time my sister was over, she asked for a throw pillow when propping up her bad back on our sofa. We have throw pillows, made of a nice velvety material, but they are being used as anti-cat devices. Since the cats don't like to lay on the velvet texture, the pillows are placed strategically around the house to prevent the cats from getting on the furniture. I had to go find her a bed pillow instead, because throw pillows just couldn't be used by the humans.

Sheer madness, I tell you.

Due to excessive shedding, I have banished the cats from the furniture. This wasn't too hard considering they only had a couple of favorite spots: Briscoe favors the bedspread, Dino likes a sunny spot on the sofa and they both love our little armchairs. I was sick and tired of vacuuming, lint-brushing and sticky-tape-attacking these seats everyday. It's not like we failed to provide them with their own comfy spots. We have a kitty condo and sheepskin cat bed. We also brought out a fuzzy horse blanket that was a Christmas gift to Briscoe last year. (Yep, that cat gets his own care packages in the mail. Don't ask.) They ignored these cat friendly spots and I'd constantly find them sleeping on my favorite seats. This meant I had to go through a minor guilt trip anytime I would shoo them off or I had to pick them up and unceremoniously deposit them back onto THEIR beds. Eventually they got the idea.

Next the two cats fought over the horse blanket. I'd find it rumpled up and surrounded by tufts of fur, meaning it had become a kitty smack-down arena. Hey, at least they're getting exercise. I hadn't meant to stir up so much antagonism; after nearly a year they've learned to share this apartment with a grudging respect and even a sort of camaraderie. They have banded together to laugh at their humans (as Bill runs around the room clapping his hands trying to halt a pesky moth. Really, they know that moth is THEIRS to hunt.)


I've found them grooming each other much more often. I was hoping this was a sign that they were Best Friends Forever but next thing ya know, they're chasing and hissing and scrabbling all over the place, knocking down anything in their path. Then they had a huge breakthrough today: they have taken to sharing the blanket and sleeping together.


And now?



Voila!


They look so happy together.




Now, don’t get me started on the disgruntled damsel fish who is rearranging the rocks in the living room tank…



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=37 Fri, 27 Oct 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

I'm back. We've had a hectic couple of weeks around here and I just didn't have time to sit down and post anything. Oh, I've been composing these commentaries in my head... I just haven't actually typed them in to our everloving computers.

As a little family of two, we have been so rewarded with friends and loved ones who enjoy seeing us and sharing their events with us. On the flip side, we're innundated with friends and family who want to be social with us- and it's exhausting sometimes!

I've learned a couple of important lessons through being so happy and acting out my role as social butterfly:

1) Stay humble. There is only so much incredibly cute exuberance that folks can stand to see before they get nauseous.

2) Stay in the moment. Ignoring the scenery for that one perfect photo, or blowing off your spouse for a bunch of party chat can wreck the memory when you look back on it. Priorities need to be kept straight.

Prime example: we love our apartment and the way we've decorated and made it homey. So we want to have friends come over here to visit with us. Even if we don't have seating for 10, even if we have no place for them to sleep, even if it means a mad dash cleaning spree that will tweak the best disposition into RAGE mode... we keep insisting that activities be based around our home. And circumstances have wisely dictated that WE are not always in charge. I've had to let it go and enjoy a night out even if we spend our time socializing on the sidewalk. Getting out of the house is a good thing. Once we have kids, that whole dynamic will shift.

These lessons of humility and attentiveness have been played out over and over for me recently. I wanted so badly to show off how great I am at playing Happy Housewife that I got a reality check by being denied that opportunity the night I was all prepared to show off, then being challenged by it on a date I had no intentions of having people over! And really, am I truly the woman who wants to fight with her man over who hauled the cat litter (we both want to do it) or who gets to the dishes first (he always wins)?? There is something a little... off about the couple who help each other tidy up THAT much.

We're weird in other lovely ways. No need to add "housekeeping freak" to my list of abnormalities. (Those Star Wars trivia challenges say enough.)

A new community park opened a couple of blocks from our home. Between the park across the street from our apartment and this new facilty we have green fields and playgrounds all around us. Bill and I went to the grand opening of the new park and the community here does a nice job of supporting it's members- meaning they had lots of free stuff! And it was clean and pleasant (but the free stuff was the clincher). The local community centers and libraries are also proving enjoyable for me. I have good reason to be attached to this area and even more reasons to love our apartment. It gives us the ability to walk to the beach, bike to the train station and afford coastal living in a quiet, safe neighborhood in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Oh, right, stay humble. Well, we like living here.

So when are you coming over...?

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=36 Tue, 24 Oct 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Yesterday we experienced a rare condition in San Diego: water fell from the sky. This event causes panic and confusion among the citizens- where are the windshield wipers? What will I do if I get wet?? How much is this costing me in lost sunbathing time???

I was headed down the freeway trying to meet someone and I failed to allow extra time for bad traffic. When I left home, everything looked normal for October: 74 degrees and sunny. Then as I worked my way down the coast, big clouds started to collect and deposit their watery contents onto the unsuspecting SoCal inhabitants. Between drivers freaking out over the drops falling on the pavement or staring up at the Blue Angels putting on an air show overhead, there was no hope of getting through the major commuter routes without an hour delay.

The weather is fickle and in some patches the sun was shining out of a blue sky as though nothing ever changed. I had a family member here who lived right at the top of the cliffs on the beach and I remember how some days the front yard would be cloudy and moist but the backyard was sunny and clear.

Funky, huh? It's tough living in paradise, I know.

We live pretty close to the beach. Last time we went out, it was hard to select which kind of food we wanted to accompany our ocean sunset view. We settled on a bistro about a mile from home with an unobstructed view of the beach and good wine list. After a meal of seafood and a luxurious dessert, I knew we had chosen the right place to live. Sure, it's expensive. I choke and gasp when I see house prices here. Yes, we pay more for gasoline than (practically) anywhere else in the country. And it is also a vacation destination for countless tourists. Basically, we're on permanent vacation. If you have to spend the afternoon frustrated in rush hour traffic, where else could you be rewarded with such a tropical paradise when you get home?

OK, you might say Hawaii (if we're sticking to the United States). Yeah, yeah, I have some family in Hawaii. It's nice to visit, but it's a lot harder to take the afternoon to go to Hollywood or Disneyland on a whim. Basically we have it goooood.


Even stuck in the slow lanes on the freeway, the fickle weather provided me with sun to the west and rain to the east. That meant a beautiful rainbow over the mountains. Check out this double rainbow my friend Lynn photographed from her deck a while ago.


I really do have it goooood. If nothing else, my perfect setting should remind me to be humble. When I spotted the rainbow in my traffic jam, I started humming my favorite Muppet song.


Someday we'll find it
The Rainbow Connection
The lovers, the dreamers and me


(Now you've got it stuck in yer head, dontcha?? Hee hee hee)

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=35 Sat, 14 Oct 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

I tried going back to the gym this week. Since my ankle is still healing I was going to start out using the machines to just do an upper body workout. At this Curves-style gym, all of the upper body machines are in the middle of this insane circuit training circle filled with bodies that flail around moving from station to station every 30 seconds. I didn't dare hobble my way into the aerobics melee since it is still pretty painful to put any weight on my foot. That should have been my first clue that I wasn't ready to tackle the kind of exercise. But wait, there's more...


I went over to the Pilates exercise balls and free weights. There was no one around in that area. Seemed safe enough. They have suggested routines on big posters on the walls or you can play one of their workout DVDs on the tiny TV in the corner. I selected one of the Upper Body Strength Training DVDs, put the volume on low and huddled in close to the screen with my giganto-inflata-ball and some 3 lb dumb bells.

I felt ready to sit-on-a-ball-and-lift-weights along with the people on T.V.

I was NOT ready, it turns out. After the first set of bicep curls, the motions got more complex. Before I knew it, I was gyrating on this torture ball in a futile attempt to keep my balance with my eyes glued to the TV screen, bright green weights in each hand and no control over my Southern Hemisphere. It was like I was trying to hula hoop and swim at the same time. I couldn't jettison the weights without looking to see where they might land but every move of my eyes caused my upper body to follow in that direction. I looked like a weightless 3 month old trying to do the backstroke in a tub of Jello. Not pretty.

At this point I realized that I was:

a) NOT strengthening my arms, since wild windmill gestures do not constitute an effective workout
b) shredding every weak fiber that held my spine together
c) providing endless footage for the next YouTube video sensation


I am not nearly as graceful as I think I am and now the world knows it. I am the only person I know who has actually been told by their doctor to NEVER go jogging. Ever. Even the stationary bike is questionable. Basically, I'm terminally klutzy. Combine that with the bad luck that led me to have so many complicated orthopedic injuries and I've exceeded my lifetime insurance allotment for physical therapy. Even the physical therapy gym gave up on having me sit on the giganto-ball to do my exercises.






It's final: gymnastics will never be a sport for me. I should enthusiastically demonstrate my talents in any (all) other areas. But I should not try this at the gym again. Ever.





I may need to be restricted from telling stories about my trips to the gym. My sister laughed so hard at my retelling of the attack of the giganto-inflata-ball that she strained her injured back. Seems she just bought one of the things on her physical therapists recommendation and I felt I had a duty to warn her how unstable they can be… but I’m the one who ended up unstable. Oh well, my sister probably knew that already.
]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=34 Tue, 10 Oct 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

I started to write about my intense feelings a couple of times this week. Bill and I both felt emotionally worn out by Wednesday. I wrote about our shared grief over school shootings, about my worries for hypothetical children I'm not even raising yet, about other fears and anxieties... and I didn't put any of that writing here. Instead I thought about a conversation I had last Sunday. I was talking about why bad things happen, in a bit of a funk, with Bill and his father. And his father, fully engaged in his Sunday duties as pastor, reminded me that it is right to be horrified, it is right to seek justice, but it is wrong to despair. Some things are out of our control. Some things we will never understand. But we cannot despair. That helped. After a good nights sleep, I found my funny bone again.

So instead of some scholarly debate on what our schools need and how to find solace in a threatening world, I changed my focus to the cats. Our cats. The shedding furballs that get all the attention anytime someone steps into our home. Or even outside our home. I leave the windows open and the cats fall over each other to sit on the tiny windowsills. Then they meow loudly at any visitors in the courtyard, gaining tons of sympathy from the neighbors who come by to say "Hi" each day. As you can see from their size, they’re obviously starving.

I realized how out of shape they are when I saw the Siamese furball pull himself up onto the window ledge by clawing at the sill and scrambling up like he was tiny rock climber. I knocked him out of the window to see if he could still jump to the ground! He can jump back in the window, he just seems to prefer scaling his way up out of sheer laziness. Bill got a second cat as a playmate hoping the Siamese
would lose some weight; instead we got two fat cats.

I have grumbled about their antics plenty of times, like when they made me stumble while I was on crutches. They're also a source of comfort and warmth. Like when Bill and I sit at the dinner table discussing deep and painful topics, I can be distracted by goofy cats rolling around, tapping me with their paws, their fuzzy faces turned up in a smile. So whatever the source of all the bad stuff that clouded our week, their relaxed, fuzzy faces are here for me and I can smile again. I mean c’mon people- Dino has PINK paws!! Cuteness rules!

Note: I haven’t given up watching television- though I can’t find any shows that hold my interest, but I AM excited about the Season Premiere of “Battlestar Galactica” tonight- STILL I found another example of what’s been on my mind all week. “Grey’s Anatomy” referenced a rare medical condition (a fascinoma, if you will) of being born without the ability to perceive pain. This condition does exist and it can prove extremely dangerous for the patient, who ignores all warning signs of injury, resulting in life threatening consequences. Pain is there for a reason. Perhaps the same is true for society, our shared pain tells us something is wrong and alerts us, requires us to be cautious, watchful and put our well being ahead of reckless actions. Whatever. You can’t expect to get anything profound from a soap opera TV show, but it IS a way to spend the time while your busted ankle heals up and all the news stations just give you nightmares.

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=33 Fri, 6 Oct 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Gar.

I missed it.

I was clueless.

I had no idea.

I lost the opportunity. Now I must wait for next year.

September 19th was “Talk like a pirate day” and I missed out.

I’m not making this up. Really. You can read about all the facts here. I was completely unaware of the season premiere of the ABC TV show “Wife Swap” and did not see their featured pirate family, the same folks that somehow started this holiday. Ignore that, the focus is on talking like a pirate. One day set aside to use “avast” and “scurvy” and all those other words you’ve been trying to work into normal everyday conversation.

Isn’t it natural to have a pirate holiday? Or am I just showing my Southern heritage??

I spent 12 years living in the Tidewater region of Virginia. That’s the costal area between the Chesapeake Bay and the North Carolina state line, including Norfolk, Virginia Beach and Hampton. They celebrate pirates there. It’s local history, folklore and a darned good reason to party, all wrapped up in one. In that part of the Atlantic pirates were real. Blackbeard was the most notorious pirate who patrolled the local waters. In my twenties I jumped at the chance to join the crew on a ship in a Pirate parade of boats. Those crazy Tidewater folks will use any excuse to party like it’s 1718.

There are several festivals in the area, like the Hampton Blackbeard Festival and Norfolk’s Harborfest. I recall this extraordinary actor who portrays Blackbeard, never dropping his character or his accent no matter how much rum he’d had to drink. His name is Ben Cherry and he's a delightful sort (for a pirate.) He came aboard and spent an evening partying on one boat I was on while docked at the Norfolk Waterside Harbor. I had my picture taken with him, but I can’t find that photo now. I was happy to see his picture in a recent National Geographic magazine article about Blackbeard. I’m glad he’s still around after all these years.

So my days in the company of pirates inspired me to enjoy all the pirattitude I can get. Since pirate festivals are less common on the Pacific coast, I will content myself with Talk Like A Pirate Day each September 19th. I adore random pirate appearances, like Pirate Steve in the movie “Dodgeball.” Disney has caught on to the hype, with the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and associated movies. (For the record, I liked the first movie best. So shoot me.)

Gar, you scurvy dogs, enjoy the fun!


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=30 Fri, 29 Sep 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

So my ankle is no better after 2 weeks. The doctor took x-rays and created a cast out of tape instead of subjecting me to an expensive orthopedic boot or a plaster splint. It’s not just discount HMO treatment, the doctor claimed this worked the last time he sprained his own ankle and it was easier to wear, replace and remove as needed. I feel like an NFL player now, with a bone fide injury and a professional sports taping job. My winning season is just off to a slow start.

After the x-rays, my guilt about lying around whimpering in pain was alleviated thanks to a little medical validation. It turns out there is an old, unhealed fracture in my foot which is being aggravated by the unstable tendons in my sprained ankle. I bet I broke my foot back in the Bahamas when I took a tumble at the resort. I had a lot of knee pain then but the high of being on our honeymoon probably masked the serious injuries. This is all happening to my GOOD leg, the backup I keep around in case the really messed up one gives out in the future. Where do I go for a spare now?

Worse yet, how do I spend my time when it hurts this bad to move around?? The doctor said it could take months for this ankle to heal and I shouldn’t resume anything active until it doesn’t hurt to take walk normally. After I got myself SO pumped up for exercise to be a daily routine, I now have medical professionals (and my husband) telling me I shouldn’t EVER go jogging again.

I need suggestions for other activities.

One activity that requires no physical effort is watching too much T.V. Now that A&E network is airing “CSI: Miami” marathons, I’ve entertained myself with the “CSI: Miami” drinking game. You can substitute eating M&Ms for the drinking. The rules are that you drink (or grab the M&Ms)

1. every time someone calls David Caruso "H" not "Horatio"

2. every time Horatio places his arms akimbo (on his hips)

3. when Horatio takes his sunglasses off or puts them on for dramatic effect

4. you see a special guest cameo from an actor who is familiar but you can't remember the name

5. when Horatio holds his head tilted at a 45-degree angle. (Don’t forget to add another count if he has his arms akimbo at the same time)

6. when Horatio calls someone “my friend” or says “Here’s what I think happened” or “Listen to me”

7. each time someone delivers a cheesy one liner then the scene cuts to commercial or opening credits

8. whenever a woman makes an inappropriate advance at one of the investigators

9. every reference to Raymond Caine, Horatio’s dead cop brother

10. when the ME talks to a corpse directly as if speaking to its soul (two if she refers to the victim as 'baby' or equivalent)

The show is bad. It’s awesomely bad, in that “I must look away but I can’t” way. And the endless reruns on cable mean I could play games and be a couch potato forever. HELP!

In a desperate search for things to do, I’ve hobbled around the library and checked out cookbooks, craft books, fiction. I’ve shopped online, talked on the phone… all things that don’t require walking around. I’m just running out of patience.

(Hah! That would presume I ever had any patience. I didn’t.)

"Oh Lord, give me patience. And give it to me right now!!!!"

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=29 Mon, 25 Sep 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

OK, I figured out what I want for Christmas.

I want family and friends to send me recipes. It’s a simple as a 3 x 5 card and a stamp.

Hasn’t everyone made their Christmas shopping lists by now? I’m feeling unusually behind since I’ve only come up with a handful of fantastic ideas. I’m normally done with the planning phase by August and on to the shopping phase by Labor Day. This year I’ve fallen behind. I was distracted. Something about a wedding…

One of the unique wedding gifts I received was a compilation of favorite recipes from the church. Each card has a handwritten recipe with the name of each submitter. When I received this gift, I was anxious to get home and try making some of the goodies. Picture the look on my very confused face as I opened up the cookbook and first saw THIS:



Recipe for Elephant Stew – an old family recipe From Bill Neuhaus
Difficulty Level: EASY
Can be made ahead, can be frozen

Prep time: 2 months
Cooking time: 4 weeks

Preheat: 465º
Serves: 3,800 people

Ingredients:
1 elephant, medium size
2 rabbits (optional)
3 lbs garlic cloves
333 gal. brown gravy
89 bunches parsley
salt & pepper to taste

First, catch an elephant. Cut elephant into bite-sized pieces. This will take about two months. Reserve the trunk. You will need something to store the stew in.

Mix elephant pieces + spices + brown gravy to cover. Cook over kerosene fire or barbeque for about 4 weeks at 465º

This will serve 3,800 people. If more are expected, the 2 rabbits can be added, but do this only if necessary as most people do not like hare in their stew.


(I’m sure that Bill and Linda won’t mind me sharing this one, but if you make it, give them the credit!)

This past weekend I was in a rush to come up with a fruit dish for a wine tasting supper. I looked in the recipe book and picked an apple dish from the dessert page. As I was assembling the ingredients, I thought that it seemed too simple and I started to worry that I was missing a step. Before putting my creation in the oven, I carefully reviewed the instructions. That was the first time I noticed that the author of this particular dish was a 10 year old boy. It turned out fine and it was enjoyed by everyone. The end result was a cross between a dense coffee cake and an apple crumble. In fact, Bill is still enjoying it because I’ve packed up pieces for him to eat on the way to work each morning this week.

So for Christmas I want to gather up as many beloved family recipes as possible. I’ll take everything from the simplest Bisquick concoction to complicated Southern dishes. (Oooh, I’ve been dreaming about watermelon rind preserves.) I learned the family secrets like the hamburger gravy my dad devoured over rice was actually enhanced with mushroom soup despite his avowed hatred of all things fungus. Fungi? Whatever- my mom kept it a secret, which is more than I can say.

I tried substituting pureed cauliflower (whipped up with a bit of fat free half & half and parmesan cheese) in place of the usual mashed potatoes the first time I made a roast for Bill. He was quite impressed with the meal. I even took a picture, in case it was one of those newlywed moments that gets forgotten with time and he never sees real beef in the house again!

Then I spilled the beans (or the Beano in this case) by revealing my clever cauliflower trick and my new husband had to make that face. That face that said “Great, how do I spit this out without offending my new bride and convincing her to never cook for me again?”

Once he knew that I’d prepared his least favorite vegetable in place of traditional mashed potatoes, he politely scraped them off his plate. It’s wasn’t the end of the world- he adored the beef and has bragged about my cooking to anyone who will listen. If I get clever like my mother did with her mushrooms, he may find himself eating all sorts of cooked cruciferous veggies. I just have to learn to keep quiet now and then.



P.S. Bill has a few hidden cooking talents of his own. It has to be sufficiently technical, so fixing Maine lobster + steamed clams in a fresh herb and wine reduction + corn and drawn butter for Valentine’s Day last February was a perfect meal. He made everything except the hush puppies. I made those. I just couldn’t stay outta the kitchen!

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=28 Thu, 21 Sep 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Party on! This weekend was a great chance to celebrate because there were two birthdays and that means cake. I am not a big fan of cake except at one time of year: birthdays. When asked, “What do you want for your birthday?” I have one simple answer: cake. I mean, it‘s not like the person having the birthday DID a whole lot to on that day- their mother really had to do the work- but it’s a great way of saying “I’m glad you’re here.” And nothing says “Happy to see you” like cake!

First we had a chance to enjoy the little sister’s birthday. My husband has the unique honor of being 22 years older than his youngest sibling, so when it comes time for him to pick out a gift he has to stretch his brain quite a bit. I love the way he can find just the right thing every time. He is great at selecting all kinds of gifts. The fact that his sister is the only girl after 4 boys makes it a special challenge. It took Bill about 10 minutes to select exactly what he thought his sister would enjoy. He was correct, as usual. (How lucky am I to have married a guy with perfect gift giving instincts??) She was very enthusiastic about all of her presents.

I was amazed at how fast she is growing. Looking back at photos from the past year, every trace of the rosy cheeked baby from the family albums is fading away. Instead, there is a beautiful girl with a flair for baking! I was impressed by the cake the birthday girl made for her own party- she is waaaaay beyond Easy Bake cooking! I'm glad there are so many birthdays to celebrate in this family if she can keep making cakes like this Strawberry Shortcake one!



Next we were on to a barbeque with Bill’s longtime friend, Brian. His actual birthday was on Friday and we celebrated on Sunday, so he’d already eaten half his birthday cake. Hey, we were 2 days late- I’m glad he saved ANY to share with us! Brian’s family and friends got to enjoy his gourmet turkey burgers with goat cheese filling. Brian got to show off his stupid cat tricks and his impressive gardening skills.

Brian can be full of surprises… this guy has could have his own Home Garden TV show. Martha Stewart better watch out. There’s a market for this kind of garden party for guys, especially when you include a Star Wars trivia challenge. Can anyone name a female bounty hunter from the movies? We had a hard time with that one. Bill won, hands down, and we all had a lot of fun. I couldn’t compete with the most hardcore trivia challenges at this party, although I did know the name of the slave girl dancer in the scene with Jabba the Hutt. Something had to pushed out of my brain for me to retain this bit of trivia. Please… don’t be sad for me. I actually live a very normal life.

The big deal for me is that this weekend marks the passing of another year. I started visiting with my future in-laws about a year ago, when they celebrated Sarah’s last birthday. My 15 year old brother-in-law calls me “sis” now. My nephew-in-law will have a brother or sister by springtime. Family has moved away and come back together during multiple visits. I think Brian has gotten used to the fact that his good buddy comes with a wife attached now. There have been so many changes this year and they are all for the best.

In one year I have grafted on more branches to this family tree and it just keeps getting bigger! In the words of a very wise little lady, "This family goes on FOREVER!" Forget any jokes you've every heard about in-laws and marriage... this family knows how to do it RIGHT!

And they always remember the birthday cake.

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=27 Tue, 19 Sep 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

This is the view I’ve been staring at for two days. I’ve been lying on the sofa. Non-stop. In pain.

See, it started with my excitement about a new Boot Camp Challenge at my gym. I wanted to add something to help me reach my goal of a healthy, flexible and strong body (now with extra added weight loss goodness) and this Boot Camp workout sounded ideal! I already go to the gym for circuit training Monday, Wednesday and Friday. This Tuesday/Thursday class would fit in nicely and it advertised “For All Fitness Levels” so I signed right up. I happily finished my workout and kept jogging right out of the building and that’s when I fell. I twisted my ankle on absolutely nothing and hit the floor.

I have extensive experience with orthopedic injuries and I knew this was not going to feel good. I raced home to put ice on my ankle and dose up with anti-inflammatory pills but already the swelling and bruising were apparent. And so I’ve fulfilled the instructions of the mnemonic Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation by sticking my foot up on a bunch of pillows and not really moving for two days.

This has given me plenty of time to ponder the great mysteries of life. And to watch all those movies we have collected. There are mysteries like “Why does the cat think my Ace bandage is a scratching post and sharpen his claws on my sore ankle?”

I’ve spent too much time apologizing to my husband for laying around, leaving the household chores undone. Talk is cheap. The first time I tried to get up and run out to the grocery store, then cook a simple meal, it caused so much pain that I couldn’t stand up again for hours. Turns out he’d MUCH rather have me out of commission for a few days now rather than listen to me groan and yelp for the next two weeks. I’m very verbal about my pain. “OW. OWIE!!!” It seems to help it go away sooner. I add in cartoon voices to try and make it seem less pitiful. Last night I was accused of doing Marlon Brando when I was just imitating a Muppet Baby. I need to work on my impressions.

All this time in front of the TV has been disturbing in light of the September 11 memorials. I don’t want to watch the dramatized movies about that day. I don’t want to engage in political debate about what has been done right or wrong. I can’t stand viewing the horrible footage of the towers coming down. I can’t listen to the recorded last words of passengers on Flight 93. It’s all too painful and I don’t see the focus on surviving, on the amazing stories of cooperation, hope and healing.

I have a great fondness for New York City. New York is a character as famous and dramatic as any actor. I want to enjoy my memories of New York without feeling the shock and pain of that day. It’s been five years and I’m not there yet. I just saw a commercial for the World Trade Center Memorial that simply shows people silently standing and sitting in their everyday environments while the words “Where were you when it happened?” fade in and out on the screen.

Each September 11 we hear that inevitable question.

I was on the green couch in the apartment I shared with my sister, having returned home just after dawn from a night shift. I missed seeing my sister leave for her early day as a Medical Student. She called me right about the time that the images on the TV were starting to take focus in my sleepy brain. I sat alone in our living room, with the leafy cover of the tropical plants outside filtering the light as the day got brighter, and it got stranger and more disturbing. My first reaction once the deliberate nature of the attacks was recognized was to quietly take my car, go to the ATM and withdraw the maximum amount of cash, go to the grocery store and fill my car’s trunk with bottled water, batteries and canned goods then stop at the gas station to fill up my tank. I saw my uncle at that gas station at the same time. We wordlessly acknowledged the severity of the situation and went back to our practical preparations for Armegeddon.

I phoned family and friends to start the news chain rolling, to find out where everyone was, if anyone was flying that day, to pray for our friends who were in New York and Washington D.C. I remember I was the one who told my mother what was happening, trying to keep calm and collected while impressing upon her the danger of the situation. This apartment I shared with my sister was in the flight path of the San Diego Airport. We joked about the “Point Loma Pause” that you had to employ whenever a plane flew overhead while you were conversing- you’d stop talking for about 8 or 9 seconds while the noise peaked and the sliding glass doors rattled. This was especially noticeable on the phone because the person on the other end wouldn’t have a clue as to why you had to pause the conversation repeatedly during the call since they couldn’t hear the planes coming. I made many calls on September 11. The rest of that day and in the days that followed, the lack of noisy interruptions was pounding in my head. It was too quiet. When they started flying again, I was shaken out of my bed by the first plane I heard take off. The sound of engines overhead continued to terrify me for weeks. I don’t think I ever got used to it again.

I haven’t returned to New York City since the Twin Towers came down. I remember the controversy over the Lord of the Rings release titled "The Two Towers." I still have the discarded Spider Man movie trailer that shows a giant web stretching between the World Trade Center towers catching a helicopter full of bad guys. I was startled in a good way by the movie 25th Hour with it’s acknowledgement of Ground Zero and the futile anger the main character has towards both everything and everyone but mostly for throwing his life away, in the shadow of the hole that dwarfed New York City in 2002.

There was a clip from Jon Stewart’s first Daily Show appearance after the attacks summed up how I wanted to move on: Go back to work. Rebuild. Be funny. Value liberty.





*Update* Oh, I am SO lucky. I have incredible amounts of love around me! I just hopped to the door to receive a fantastic gift basket from my sister & brother-in-law. The note that came with the gift basket reminded me to stay off that ankle. My husband has bent over backwards to reassure me that he loves me even when I'm laid up like this. Over the weekend, this wonderful man wouldn't let me get up to pick up a single dish, he waited on me hand and foot! I am moved beyond words by these expressions of love.

Never forget the love.



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=26 Mon, 11 Sep 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

What kind of content do we want to put on our web site now that the wedding is done?

It was easy to agree on how the page should look when we were embroiled in the construction of our new life together. Post-wedding life goes on, but I don’t think the world needs to read about it every day. Frankly, it seems WAAAY too self-indulgent to continue uploading photos of ourselves and tales of my power struggles with the cats. (They are winning, by the way.)

My ideas for how to organize the content on our page were based around all the cool things we like to share: movies, music, funny stories, occasional books and techno tools. We want to keep in touch with family and friends, so photos and contact forms became integral to our site.

So what are we sharing here? How does this broaden our world or provide something new and interesting to others?


Well, I’ve learned that my mom & some grandparents cruise our site, so I’ll keep it all family friendly. I’ve noticed how much we’re linked to the web as “Bill & Teri” and it vaguely creeps me out to find that I’m so easily Googled. I’ve always been a private person and enjoyed my anonymity. Also, in my family we tend to make up words. So I like the idea of calling myself “Teedles” to give me an air of mystery. I tried getting “Teedles” on my license plate when I first moved to California (it would have been soo cute on that little VW Bug!) but my request was rejected because it was offensive.

Can ANYONE out there tell me why “Teedles” is offensive?

I’m stumped.

I have made some wonderful discoveries in the weeks since we got married. I think this web site might be a way to share them.




• I’ve been collecting new recipes.
  
  
• I’m getting books from the local library. Saves money and storage space since I’m not buying tons of books anymore.
  
  
• I discovered this great gym is convenient and quick. And I hate working out. This place is perfect for me. All I have to do is find 30 minutes to go workout with their circuit training machines or the stationary bike, then I get to reward myself.
  
  
• I wander the shops in the Village, hit the farmer’s market twice a week and can take my books and go sit on the beach. It helps balance out the time spent sitting in front of a computer.
  
  
• I find nifty things online, like this folded paper, disposable pocket organizer. Anyone who has seen me digging through my purse or at work has seen me folding lists and stuffing them into my pockets. This design lets me fold to my hearts content, it’s cheap and easy and I can discard it when I’m done so I don’t lug around a huge, expensive day planner.
  

Also new and cool: we got a cowfish. I used to think they were ugly, but they have this weird hovering propulsion that hypnotizes me. With their tiny beak-like mouths, antennae-like horns and green spots, I’m pretty certain they’re from another world. I can’t stop walking by the tank and making Jetson’s spaceship noises. I think this fish needs a name. Any suggestions?


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=25 Tue, 29 Aug 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

If you wanted to tattoo a favorite quote on your body, what would it be?

I went walking on the beach the other day. It was one of those perfect Southern California days. The temperature was just right, the sun was brilliant, and everything looked picture perfect. It was the kind of day where families were packing the beach with their umbrellas, sand pails and inquisitive toddlers.


Then I came upon a young woman sunning herself in the usual fashion. She had an extra large tattoo on her lower back. It was very eye catching, visible just above her waistband. The lettering took up two lines and at least 6 inches with some scrollwork around the bottom.

This tattoo was unusual because

a) it was larger than most, with words visible from quite a distance away

b) it quoted the Bible.

What did she choose?

“Better is the sight of the eyes than the wandering of desire.” Ecclesiastes 6:9

So what does it all mean? My first impression was that she favored the saying and its call to embrace life around us rather than to dream about things we wish we had… only it was placed in an area that is sexually provocative. The tattoo pulls one’s eyes to wander to her derriere while speaking of desire, making it a double entendre. Ah, the futility of a dual message. She's prompting us to look, to desire, just don't do anything about it. Oh, and remember your righteousness.

We talk of love and peace- we obsess over war. “Don’t be afraid” is shouted in the same breath as “Fear everything.” This week the news highlighted their duality when recounting how Homeland Security is keeping us free of terrorist plots then featuring long accounts of how many holes there are in the security systems.

It’s enough to make you want to stick your head in the beautiful SoCal beach sand. How are we to enjoy anything when so much that is bad happens all around us? Murder, mayhem, disaster, hatred… does anyone report the good news when it happens? Am I supposed to enjoy the beauty of the shoreline on a sunny day when every other image presented to me shows war torn buildings, bloodied victims crying endless tears, unsolved murders with unspeakable horrors? Should I be terrified or blissful? Even if I ignore anything that is not right in front of me, there is poverty, abuse, injustice on my own street, in my own neighborhood. What a buzzkill!

I have a right to eat, drink and be merry. I’m allowed to enjoy what I have here and now. Says so right there in Ecclesiastes. I’m not the first person to fret about the injustices that seem to prevail over good things. But the ultimate message is "It's not in your hands. You don't control all outcomes." I don’t have to consume myself with vanity and futility. I can just watch the waves roll into the shore and find peace.

“To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under heaven”
Ecclesiastes 3:1

Not that I want to tattoo it on my back.


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=24 Fri, 18 Aug 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Ever had those childhood playground moments when you just desperately wanted to be accepted? To be invited to play freeze-tag? To not be picked last for the team??

I’m suffering through a popularity contest with the cats. They don’t even look at me. First I moved my belongings into Bill’s apartment. Cats are territorial and don’t like to share. Then we went away on our honeymoon, leaving them in the care of my sister and her husband. When we returned, I got an icy reception, especially from Dino. I tried the “food equals love” approach and fed them every meal, hoping to win their affection.

I didn’t win their affection but I did gain a very short stalker. Briscoe has taken ownership of me and cannot bear to be more than 2 feet from me at any time, averting his gaze whenever I notice him. Bill commands a grudging respect from both cats, so he doesn’t have to deal with their shenanigans. I get a fuzzy presence at my feet every moment I’m inside the house. Briscoe has to sleep on my feet, jump onto my computer, bat at my butt when I sit in a chair(?!) and basically act like he’s training to become a Hollywood paparazzo. The worst is the yowling.

We knew that Siamese were vocal cats when Briscoe came to live with Bill. It’s just that lately he’s taken to howling at varying levels at all hours of the day. Bill blames it on the way I talk back to him, carrying on entire conversations during the day. I have got to get out more.

We usually keep the cats claws trimmed. Somehow in the wedding/honeymoon confusion we neglected this pet grooming. When we returned from our trip, I found that both cats were packing razor sharp Ninja weapons on their toes and both bore scratches on their skin. They also were overdue for doses of anti-flea goo. I feared a flea outbreak, especially in this heat wave. Since they both have very dense fur, the only way to get a flea comb through to their skin is to get them wet. That means it’s bath time.

Every tried washing a cat? My sister told me about a clever trick where you buy a window screen in a frame that will fit inside your tub. Put it down and you get the dual benefit of screening some of the hair from washing down the drain and the cat digs in with his claws and gets stuck so you can scrub him quickly. Kitty Velcro!

I start by closing off all hiding places and acting like I’m not doing anything. Then I put a bit of water in the bathtub, add cat, then use a big cup and kitten shampoo to get them all sudsy. After my I’m certain that Child Protective Services is on the way from all the wailing echoing through the bathroom (it sounds like you stepped on a baby), I check for fleas or flea “dirt” with a comb then rinse. Repeat with second cat. Stifle the inevitable laughter when you see a wet cat who suddenly lost half his mass due to fur flattening. Get fresh box of band aids. Wipe fur off the ceiling and you’re done!

I managed to wash both cats yesterday. Dino went first, I had to catch him unsuspecting. Briscoe was easy to find- he’s magnetically attached to my ankles and reappeared the minute I released Dino from the tub. Dino has been through this treatment once before and knew that he couldn’t pull the glass shower doors open with me in there guarding him from leaving the bath. This time he decided to go all out and try to jump OVER the shower doors. He made a splashing leap up about 4 feet before crashing into the heavy glass and sliding back down the porcelain. I was suitably impressed. The only thing he hurt was his dignity.

I am decidedly unpopular after those baths. The good news is that no one has fleas- all the little scabs were from scratches they gave each other. The bad news is that I will never be popular or command any respect from these cats. Who owns whom around here??



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=23 Sun, 13 Aug 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

OK, I'm getting the questions about our two part honeymoon photos now.

"Did you take two trips?"

"Did you really go to the Everglades??"

"Um, did you have any idea what Florida is like in July?!?"

Allow me to explain.


We spent the first 5 days of our honeymoon in the Bahamas. We spent the next 4 days in Florida, around Miami and the Upper Keys. The honeymoon destinations were mostly my planning. Bill thought the Atlantis resort was great and he had never been to the Atlantic so the Florida coast seemed like a nice accompaniment to our Bahamas trip. I grew up in Virginia and had several opportunities to visit Miami and the Florida Keys, especially when I was scuba diving, so I had many fond memories of those areas. I also had a built-in acclimation to heat and humidity since my family never owned air conditioning. I'd been through plenty of coastal storms when I lived in Virginia Beach and they don't scare me. We were suitably concerned that storms could hit the area since it was the beginning of hurricane season.

Somewhere along the way, Bill mentioned that he was interested in the Everglades. Was it the wild alligators, the mysterious swamps, too many episodes of Invasion when it was on TV? We were flying through Miami so it was easy to arrange to spend a few nights in a resort in Islamorada and I figured that with my knowledge of the area, it would be a pleasant, inexpensive way to extend our honeymoon. Heh. Reality check, please? Here’s how it played out in real life:

The Miami airport struck me as the most disorganized assortment of colorful characters I’d ever seen. Catching a shuttle to the rental car place was a feat worse than anything I’d seen on Fear Factor. There was a drenching rain flooding the streets so we bought tons of insurance on the rental car. Bill had to negotiate the interstate while I gave him directions- off the laptop. I draped a towel over my head to make the screen darker. I recommend this for anyone riding around the Miami freeways. You don’t want to see what’s coming. The entire Miami area is under construction. The cars were reduced to about 25 mph with flashers on in that weather. It was a very intense storm. Welcome to hurricane season!

We spent one night in Miami Beach. Bill bravely jumped into the rushing river on Ocean Avenue and got us checked into The Strand. They had to hand us pool towels to dry off in the lobby. We had a cute efficiency condo for the night with the tiniest appliances I’d ever seen. I felt like I was moving into an Ikea furniture display. Considering the weather and the lack of parking, we chose to skip the South Beach clubbing in favor of room service. Lobster ravioli, banana crème brulee and red wine made our night much better.

Next we experienced the language barrier. I was aware that English is rarely used in Miami but there is much more than Spanish all around you. I had no idea I’d need to brush up on my Italian. With a lot of pantomiming and a bit of tipping, we got our rental car from the valet and headed to the Keys. We stopped at a Visitor’s Center in Homestead to choose if we wanted to go to the Everglades National Park first or check into our resort in Islamorada. We took their advice to go to the nearby Everglades Alligator Farm while we decided. The weather was changing all the time but the torrential rains had stopped and the sun was hidden in the clouds, keeping us from getting too hot.

The gator farm was about what you’d expect: inexpensive entertainment with big alligators and airboat rides. I was amazed at the maneuverability of the airboat over sawgrass in 6 inches of water. We saw pens full of growing babies, an alligator feeding and lots of big, freaky turtles. They look like they have a snorkel on their nose. I enjoyed the views of the “river of grass” and the rare herons we saw out on the airboat ride. Bill liked the 360s as we hydroplaned along at breakneck speeds. They pass out cotton balls to protect your ears but I found that shelling out $1 for foam earplugs made the ride much more enjoyable. You will get wet.

Bugs and heat were not our friends. As soon as we returned from the airboat ride, the sun came out- it was like you could hear the sizzling as your skin burned. Bill was enthusiastic about the Everglades so we headed over to the National Park for some real wildlife observation. First we walked around the Anhinga Trail. That was a treat. I know Bill loved the views out over the water and the alligators in their natural habitat. There was a steady breeze and very few bugs. I like the Bullfrog Mosquito Coast SPF & Insect Repellent we bought. It worked pretty well wherever applied. Unfortunately we neglected to apply it to our hats and clothing.

On another popular trail, The Gumbo Limbo Trail, we had a totally different experience. This trail went through a wooded “hammock” formed by Hurricane Andrew. It was very overgrown and after about ¼ of a mile, it looked like a horror movie scene from The Blair Witch Project as we raced along the path trying to find our way out of the trees while being chased by bloodsucking insects. Even after we were safely in the car, I could still hear mosquitoes buzzing in each ear. I think that sound could drive one insane. Something to consider in interrogation tactics…

We quickly moved on to Islamorada to settle in for our snorkeling adventures. The best thing about being in the Keys: beautiful aquamarine water with clear views of the reef just a few feet below the surface. It is so shallow and easy to snorkel! Our favorite snorkeling was the sunset cruise out to Molasses Reef where we spent a couple of hours in
the water then enjoyed champagne, rum punch and fresh fruit on a relaxing trip back to the harbor. Our resort was nothing as grand as the Atlantis hotel but it had boats, hammocks, a pool and Jacuzzi, plenty of nearby activities and most importantly, AIR CONDITIONING.

The worst thing about traveling in Florida: I didn’t expect such a lack of infrastructure here in our own prosperous country. How did this area get so poor? On the Miami beaches we were interrupted constantly by aggressive panhandlers and vendors trying to sell us trinkets. Our view of the magnificent beach was marred by sleeping homeless and trash. The buildings were like a movie set, with decorative facades covering bare bulbs in back rooms and endless construction. Yes, I know about the hurricanes. I’ve seen the aftermath from past disasters firsthand. I expected the buildings to be old. I didn’t expect such a disparity between the presence of the wealthy (like the cute condo/hotel we rented in Miami) and the poor, sleeping outdoors. Don’t even get me started on the racial divisions; I had enough of that when I lived in Virginia. None of that can be blamed on Katrina.

There were so many things that made it look like a third world country. We encountered an unsafe water supply in the Keys. All tap water had to be boiled to make it safe to drink since a water main breach about a week earlier. I didn’t find out about the water supply at first and caught some nasty food poisoning. Next time I’ll only drink mojitos, it’s safer. The separation between rich and poor became more glaring as we drove between South Beach and the Keys. So many businesses were standing empty and overgrown. Churches, shelters and child care seemed to be the only structures intact. In some cases people were living in buildings that resembled a shanty town. Much of the landscape seemed… abandoned.

All of this pointed out how rich we are as we start out as newlyweds. Anxious to start our married life back home in Carlsbad, we actually considered coming home a day early but the lack of flights between Miami and LAX made that impossible. I loved the snorkeling and the outdoorsy adventures but there was something bittersweet about seeing Florida look so different from the rosy memories I had of previous scuba trips. Bill was a good sport and found things to enjoy all throughout the trip. He learned that he is not immune to insect bites and I learned just how much he hates flying bloodsuckers! Since we both enjoy keeping tropical fish tanks, it was educational and personally satisfying to see so many fish out on the reef. And to eat them- we got fantastic seafood during our whole trip!

I will never stop appreciating air conditioning! We were thankful for all the wonderful experiences we enjoyed on this vacation.



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=22 Tue, 8 Aug 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Here is my dirty little secret:

I have a hidden desire to make music videos.

This secret surfaced after we returned from our honeymoon and I had plenty of AVI clips to fiddle with from our camera.

Waaaay back in my youth, I had an artsy side. All through high school I was the photographer, the theatre geek, the ultimate air-drummer. I began college majoring in Theatre doing Technical Design, like lighting and set design. I climbed around theatre ceilings like Spider Man, hanging lights and adjusting gels. I dreamed of going on tour with some major rock and roll concert, just so that my lighting effects could be seen by hundreds of thousands of fans.

Then reality hit, I did a couple of plays that just plain STANK and I moved back to The Very Reasonable Sciences, to major in Biology. All that drama and flair has been backing up in my system for decades. It had to come out sooner or later.

So far I have tried to let out this terrific need to express myself with obsessive picture taking and Photoshop editing galore. The first video I saw of Bill’s nephew, I immediately started editing and adding a soundtrack in my mind. Thank goodness no one has given me a video camera! Then on our honeymoon trip, I remembered that our little puny digital camera has a video button. Oh, it’s low resolution and just a few seconds long, but that didn’t stop me!!

Now I am spending way too much time sitting at my laptop and playing with Windows Movie Maker. No, don’t even try to introduce me to a Mac, I would never leave the house again if I had that kind of entertainment…

So I will inflict my need to be behind the camera on unsuspecting visitors to my blog. I already submitted one video, the dancing elephants from the San Diego Zoo. Here are my next 3 attempts.

We were stunned by this amazing manta ray with his 12 foot wingspan. His name is Zeus. I, of course, had to act like a 3 year old yelling "It's Mr. Ray from Finding Nemo!" each time I saw the smaller spotted eagle ray. I thought he was pretty cool too. Bill tried to ignore me when I sang songs from "Finding Nemo" but he did find this audio clip from the Nemo soundtrack. Must be love.

Is it cruel to keep alligators on a gator farm? Or does it educate the public and preserve the wild gators by supplying meat, leather and entertainment for tourists?? I don't know, I found these guys vaguely sad as they piled up around the fence at feeding time. The staff assured me that gators can go months without a decent meal. Their jaws are also darned impressive.

Each time we passed this tank full of lookdown jacks (who resemble something leftover from Terminator II) I noticed they had a schooling flounder who frantically tried to keep up with them. Flounder are freaky anyway, they look like something from a classic Star Trek episode. Note to self: watch something other than sci fi for a few days. This one flounder apparently suffers delusions or a very strong need to belong... I never knew such pathology could manifest in the flounder world. Highly educational. I should make documentaries!

Go ahead, rock out for 30 seconds. I won’t tell.


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=21 Sat, 5 Aug 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

I researched. I planned. I couldn’t wait.

We were going to play with the dolphins.

One of the highlights of our honeymoon was a trip to swim with the dolphins in an interactive program. I read up on the available dolphin parks in the Bahamas and Florida and chose this one because of their good reviews and commitment to keeping the dolphins healthy and safe. It turns out they even do weddings, where “up to a maximum of 8 additional persons can be included in the water for the wedding ceremony along with the Bride and the Groom.” How you manage to get dolphins into formal wear is beyond me.

We left Atlantis to spend the afternoon at Blue Lagoon Island with Dolphin Encounters. This meant taking a 20 minute ferry ride from the dock just outside Atlantis’ Marina Village (more time for duty free shopping) and I saw a tiny bit more of the native Paradise Island. I saw more ugly American behavior too. One nasty man could not comprehend that the Dolphin Encounter a) required reservations b) required payment by cash or credit card and c) was not a part of the Atlantis resort so they would not just charge it to your room. I saw their entire family ignoring every posted rule: they stole the towels from Atlantis, they were under-dressed (too much skin- the Bahamas have modest standards for covering up out of the water) and they seriously expected to NOT pay for this $80 to $300 activity because they were wealthy Americans. To which I say, “Whaaaa?”

The guy stood there and argued in the ticket line, loudly demanding to talk to a supervisor, until finally another couple from Atlantis paid with their credit card and made arrangements to get paid back later at the resort. Instead of being grateful, this man continued to bitch about it all the way over on the ferry. I was horrified at the prospect of being grouped with him and his family when they divided us up at the Blue Lagoon facility. Luckily we got grouped with a bunch of Brits instead, including a woman who went from abject terror at the sight of a dolphin to howling, “I want to be a dolphin trainer!” after being pushed around by these critters all afternoon.

About 100 visitors went over on the ferry and after a brief orientation speech about dolphin behavior and conservation, they broke us up into groups for either an “encounter” where you sit on the dock and touch the dolphins or a “swim” where you get into the water and the dolphins play with you. We did the swim.

Bill looked fetching in his purple life vest. Mine was turquoise and I tried to explain that it was a better color on him, purple was my favorite color, couldn’t we switch? The grinning staff member just kept pointing at Bill and repeating “Sexy!” so we gave up.

There were about 10 of us in the water with a photographer/videographer, 2 trainers and 3 dolphins. Our “assigned” dolphins were Dottie and Princess, with baby Salvador tagging along. I think Princess has a thing for Bill. Must be that sexy lifejacket. Married for less than a week and he’s swum off to kiss exotic older women!

At 39 years old Princess is the oldest dolphin in their facility and baby Salvador is their youngest at only 21 months old. Since they told us the average lifespan of a wild Atlantic spotted dolphin is 25 years and Princess was significantly older thanks to the excellent care at this facility, I mistakenly assumed that Salvador was the offspring of the obviously pregnant Dottie. Nope, Princess is still popping out babies at her “advanced age.” I was encouraged that under the right conditions, fertility has nothing to do with age!!

Princess squirted water on me for asking that question (sorry!) and happily chased Bill waggling her tongue wanting more kisses. The trainers had a good time, squirting each other by commanding the dolphins to act up and the whole group seemed to get a real adventure out of the swim. It concludes with a ride where one or two dolphins run up behind you and push you along in the water until it feels like you are flying. You’re basically standing on their noses as they race around the lagoon pushing you up. Warning: you easily lose your bathing suit bottom, leading to a whole DIFFERENT set of photographs you’ll have to buy back from the photographer.


I'll sum up the whole experience in the words of the British: brilliant. It’s a great experience and I highly recommend it for any ocean loving tourists in the area.


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=20 Thu, 27 Jul 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Was there an international plot between American Airlines and the Atlantis Resort to deprive us of our luggage so we’d buy more souvenir T-shirts? If there was, it didn’t work because we were good consumers and bought tons of souvenirs even after our luggage showed up. We were upgraded to a junior suite on the top floor of the nicest hotel, with two balconies looking out over the harbor and the ocean and tons of space. We got first class treatment that made it feel like a real honeymoon despite the little disruptions in our travel to get to the island.

On our first morning we found the free breakfast in the Imperial Club lounge, but I was feeling a bit underdressed wearing the same clothes I’d had on since Saturday night. I know everyone at the Nassau airport grinned and said we didn’t need clothes on vacation in the Bahamas but I was really starting to want some. I found out there is a special Guest Services for Imperial Club guests. The Concierge took charge and said she would track down the luggage for us- we were on vacation, no need for us to do that work. I was very impressed.

We were a bit indecisive about what to do. Take a helicopter tour of the islands? Charter a sailboat and snorkel the waters? Line up for the water slides and use the kayaks and paddle boats? We headed downstairs to the nearest gift shop to buy sunscreen, deodorant and shirts. The entire place is decorated with an amazing ability to tie together wildly different (and alien) looking things into something manufactured yet tasteful and appealing. I think it’s due to the teal color that dominates all the Atlantis items: the tint on the windows, the towels from the pool huts, even our wristbands for access to the guest-only features. How convenient that the entire resort including the water matches our wedding theme colors! We snapped pictures of all the décor, from the plant holders to the Chihuly glass sculptures.

I guess I was expecting to see plenty of British brands in the store but it was exactly the same as any airport gift shop we’d passed through in L.A. and Miami. I resolved myself to the fact that driving on the left side of the road was going to be the most foreign experience I’d get in the Bahamas. I was pretty disappointed we were going to miss the Junkanoo celebration in Nassau on Saturday, since I love world music so much. Having to acquire passports for this trip made me feel like I’d get some exotic experience and so far I was surrounded by pushy Americans. The roll of Vitamin C tablets I bought called “Seven Seas Haliborange” was the most foreign thing I’d seen so far!

I insisted that we get into the water so Bill could say he actually swam in the Atlantic. We didn’t find any fish in those waters (it was perfectly clear and I saw nothing but my toes through the water) so we headed back to the Atlantis Lagoons for some manufactured snorkeling adventures. On such a busy, sunny day it took a few minutes for a staffer to secure 2 beach lounges for us on the Atlantis beach. Tipping with cash is tough when all your bills are soggy, but seeing these guys run around in the midday sun dragging huge beach chairs made me feel that giving them something was better than nothing. I did not notice many other Americans tipping (a mandatory 15% is included in all the charges) but the service was good so we shelled out packets with $2 in them regularly.

Each day started out overcast but Bill was good about applying sunscreen and it paid off. As we wandered around, we saw more & more bright red tourists and it increased my vow NOT to let that happen to us. The sight of the enormous aquariums on display at “The Dig” in Royal Towers made me forget any worries about missing clothes.

“The Dig” is a series of viewing windows into an impressive man made lagoon filled with hundreds of species of fish. There is a fanciful Atlantis theme, showing their idea of what an archeological expedition would find if they uncovered the alien, mythological realm of the lost world of Atlantis under the sea. It starts with an Indiana Jones look, goes through a series of tunnels that connect and deposit you (naturally) in a gift shop. Visitors to the resort who are not guests will pay $29 to wander through this exhibit. Our room cards got us full access and the crowds thinned out significantly late at night, our favorite time to wander the displays.

Along with the underwater lagoon views, there are separate tanks featuring delicate species and fantasy elements. I think Bill really liked the room with billowing mist coming out of a huge fountain and alien looking dive suits and armor. It reminded me of things he would draw, like the mechanical seahorse he started sketching that is hanging in his office right now. I liked the glittering light filtered through the tanks and the shadowy effect in the jellyfish tank. The creatures on display were alien enough to keep me intrigued.

We also wandered through the resort to the other hotel buildings, Beach and Coral Towers, and the lagoons next to their pools. Both the Predator Lagoon and the Reef Lagoon have wonderful viewing tunnels beneath them. I found it similar to scuba diving and there was not much of a rush of visitors. You can sit and stare as long as you like. The repeated calls of 3 year olds screaming “Mama- fisssssss!” amused me. I snapped a couple of pics of kids pressed up against the tanks peering at fish that could swallow them whole.

Next we wandered the beach. The heat of the day was starting to break through the cloudy sky and we stopped for a drink at one of the beachfront bars. I was satisfied once I had something fruity and cool in front of me. Bill got interested in buying an assortment of cigars from one of the beach vendors who walk up and offer you things and he was happy with his purchase too. There are warnings in the hotel and online about the vendors hawking their wares on the beaches, especially the rides on uninsured motorized watercraft. From my observation no one was too pushy (if you say no, they leave you alone) and in my opinion this resort has plenty of money to go around so it’s in the locals best interest to keep the tourists happy.

Just outside the Atlantis resort on Paradise Island there is a strip of shops and businesses (mostly financial institutions) and a big double bridge that connects Paradise Island to New Providence Island. I had read that shopping off the resort grounds is a good way to find bargains and local food. There is a great casual restaurant called Anthony’s just across the street. We also found nice clothing and duty free rum. Bill really enjoyed the rum; it was inexpensive so we bought several varieties that are only available in the Bahamas. It turns out Bacardi has based a lot of its operations in the Bahamas and the brands of liquor they produce dominate every restaurant and bar but there are local specialties as well. Bahamian flags decorated every car and window in preparation for Independence Day on July 10th. The neighborhood is clean and pleasant and not very much different from the Atlantis resort except that you must shop with American dollars or credit cards, your room card won’t work once you leave the resort! Remember to look in the opposite directions when crossing the street because traffic is bustling as they are building additions onto the resort and big trucks plow through the marketplace on their way to deliver construction supplies. The new construction is supposed to be finished in 2007 and includes another hotel, a Sea World style marine mammal park, more marina docking and timeshare condos and new water attractions.

Bill noticed the lack of security and police presence. We only saw them on the docks and at the airport. The resort has its own security force, identified by white jackets that make them look like pharmacists to me. There seems to be no need for imposing authority figures. Traffic enforcement is minimal as well and you hear the beep-beep of cars all day and night. On the way to our hotel, our shuttle driver commented on the wild behavior of the other drivers, the American pedestrians lurching into the streets and the general disregard for a certain stoplight (the only one on that road) but I never once saw a posted speed limit or an accident. She laughed and said, “It’s an island, there is only so far you can go and not many roads that are long enough to get some speed. They set up road blocks at the beginning of the month since all cars must be registered on your birthday- no registration means you have no driver’s license and probably no insurance, but any other time you won’t see them pull anybody over.”

Several of the Atlantis security personnel were young women. Late at night (and after more than one drink) Bill had an urgent need to ask a guard on the grounds about the Bahamas. She had an answer for everything:

Is Nassau a separate island?
All the islands are separate, that’s why it is an archipelago and Nassau is the capitol, Freeport is the other major city. New Providence is 21 miles by 7 miles. Paradise Island is about 3 miles by 0.75 miles.

So wait, are we on a separate island?
Paradise Island is connected to New Providence by a bridge; it’s an archipelago.

Where do the locals go for fun- someone recommended the Fish Ride on Bay street and we want to check it out?

This totally confused the girl until she guessed that Bill was interested in a local place that I’d read about where the Junkanoo would be held on Saturday and great conch fritters could be found: The Arawak Bay Fish Fry in Nassau! I doubled over in laughter at this point: the Bahamian accent had twisted the famous Fish Fry I’d been hearing about into the “Fish Ride” on Bay Street! The guard was very patient with our goofy questions and dismissed us with the routine phrase repeated by every staff member regarding every topic: “My pleasure.”

There is a slightly disturbing Stepford wives quality to the way every staff member closes a conversation with “My pleasure.” I can’t quite figure out why it disturbs me but combine it with the strange runes and alien décor and I’m surrounded by Atlanti-bots!

When I went to the ladies room during dinner Monday night, I caught the tail end of a parade of performers marching through the Royal Towers. I believe the performers AND the music are called Junkanoo: they use brass instruments, goatskin drums and cowbells while wearing headdresses and bright colors. It’s a celebration that is supposed to convey the native spirit of the Bahamas (which has almost no indigenous people left but imported slaves from Africa and combined them into a unique culture that resembles other islands like Haiti or the West Indies). A parade like this is called a “rush” and it is similar to Mardi Gras in New Orleans or Carnival in Brazil. The occasion is usually Boxing Day (after Christmas when the slaves got a day off and celebrated with gifts) or New Year’s Day and the association with slavery is being diminished by performing for other dates like Bahamian Independence Day. I was happy I caught a few minutes of the band and I want to see more. We were scheduled to depart before the big "Fish Ride" celebration, but on our way out of Nassau there was a huge ceremony to rename the airport Lyndon Pindling International Airport (after the former Prime Minister known as “The Father of the Bahamas”) and we caught sight of a brief Junkanoo parade.

Comfortable shoes are a must at this resort. Both of us took off our shoes while walking around the pools and beaches due to rubbing sand and blisters. Luckily the sidewalks are made of white cement that does not get too hot. The temperature was pleasant. Our hotel room had the AC stuck on high and it actually got so cold we would open both our balconies and warm ourselves in the humid air! Beware the wet floors: the daily rain showers leave pooled water along the walkways and despite the “Wet Floor” signs warning of slippery surfaces, I fell in one of the lagoon tunnels and I saw several other people fall. All the staff took very good care of us. At first I thought it was our room card marked as Imperial Club that got us the kid glove treatment. Later I realized we were getting it even when they didn’t see our room card, like the guy at the Lagoon Bar who went and got ice for my bruises after I fell. I was getting more comfortable with the 5 star treatment and started accepting all the extra assistance, but I was getting more sensitive to the brash arrogant tourists and starting to hate the Americans.

We discovered a strange pool that looked like an enormous jacuzzi we could see from our balcony and went downstairs to investigate. It turns out the resort features a lovely spa. I had suggested getting massages (they also have massage stations set up in cabanas by the various pools) but Bill pooh-poohed the idea of such indulgences, especially when he saw their prices! The receptionist at the spa encouraged us with free admittance to the salt water pool, “Poseidon’s Thalassotherapy Pool.” It was an instant hit! I noticed most of the men seemed to be over in that part of the spa while they waited for their wives to complete various beauty treatments and there was not one child hollering anywhere. It’s one of the kid-free zones in this Disneyland-like tourist attraction and they offer a full range of services. This vast, bubbling pool of heated salt water has a number of benches and waterfalls and at around 102 degrees it really melts away all your tension. We lounged in there, alternating with cool showers to withstand the temperature, and all my bruises improved immediately.

We had a few hours to play so we revisited the Marina Village by way of the Predator Lagoon. We followed a staffer who was feeding the sharks and rays and talking about them, answering questions for the crowd. I was fascinated by the sawfish. We got really good view of them in the tunnel. They were very active as it got close to feeding time. The biggest rays come right up to the staff member and suck at the water, acting like they’re begging for food. Quite a comical sight!

Our special Imperial Club concierge found our bags on the evening of our second day and the Atlanti-bots brought them up to our suite while I soaked away any tensions in the tub. All was right with the world: I had my stuff again! Bill checked the contents of our bags and everything was there. They arrived soiled and partially opened, but nothing was missing. I felt a new appreciation for MY STUFF.

“Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home”

Perhaps that was the lesson all along.



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=19 Sat, 22 Jul 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

OK, I hear this happens all the time to couples on their wedding day but I have to confess… it is all a blur.

There are things that stand out to me: the enormous feeling of love and happiness when we walked into a banquet hall full of people who were gathered to celebrate with us, the awe of saying our vows and joining hands as we slipped on the rings, the relief as we ran off after we departed down the aisle and had our first few moments alone as husband and wife.

But really, the whole day was a blur.

I started out the day with my sister, the Sister of Honor as we crowned her, getting ready early in the morning after a sleepless night at her place. We headed to a lovely Carlsbad salon for makeup and hair. We had breakfast while the stylists worked their magic and we paid way too much money to look like we weren't wearing much makeup. Actually, in the excitement Kathleen DID pay too much money; she paid the hairstylist and makeup artist twice, so they came running downstairs as we were driving off waving cash and hollering at us to stop.

Next, we met up at the church for some pre-ceremony photographs. It took a bit of clever wrangling to keep Bill from seeing me as we both got ready in the same area. Thanks to the keen eye of our helpers we kept the mystique of the groom not seeing the bride before the ceremony. I was surprised that there were so many family members and guests at the church that early. A few well-wishers had made the trip from L.A. by 10:30 AM when we weren't scheduled to start until noon! That's one way to defeat the infamous traffic on the local freeways.

It was all shaping up beautifully except for the heat. It had been exceptionally muggy at the coast all week. I knew we'd be sweltering by noon. Luckily, the room I had chosen to get dressed in was a classroom with a window air conditioner. It was also the kindergarten room, with little tiny chairs and low tables. Kathleen was thoughtful enough to pack up a small fan and we put this on the floor so I could have air blowing up the multiple layers of netting making my skirts all puffy. My dress must weigh 20 pounds and the nylon layers were smothering me despite the air conditioning. Bill's sister-in-law came to the rescue and helped me figure out all the fasteners and bustling on my dress with the huge train. His mom helped Kathleen into her long dress. Wriggling into the bodice pieces took some gymnastics for each of us!

Here's a hint for anyone stuffed into formal wear on a hot summer day: Think comfort first. Your feet will be uncomfortable in high heels and in a long formal gown the shoes are barely visible, so try my trick. I wore white and silver sneakers (selected by Bill) and I was happy and comfortable all day long!

We were melting in our long dresses. Our friends and family attended to us with great care. I don't know how the guys were doing but I'm sure the heat affected them as well. Despite any melting, there were smiles all around as I saw guests arriving. So far I had only seen the bouquets and flowers for my hair and I was blown away. We picked some seriously BOLD colors so I had a moment of worry that it would all seem garish in the daylight. Teal and flame orange, with orchids and lilies in green and white...I was very pleased as I saw it all coming together. That was just a preview of what awaited us at the reception hall!

Time flew by as we watched the clock and waited for the traditional wedding march to begin playing. I had no clue what the boys had been up to on the groom's side of the family but everything seemed to be going smoothly. Bill made the smart decision not to inform me about the marriage license getting a drink spilled on it the night before when he was hanging out with the best man...I chose not to tell him about the tasks I had difficulty with like getting printouts of the guest seating chart and plugging in the wedding music program at the reception hall. We both followed the advice we'd been given: once the machine you've built to be your wedding day is set in motion, just sit back and let it run. We were surrounded by helpful friends and family — it would all be fine.

As we headed for that fateful aisle, I took a deep breath. The machine was running full tilt. Seeing Bill in his tuxedo, looking alternately amazed and excited, I got all teary. I'm scared to see what the photographer caught because "deer in the headlights" can't begin to describe what I must have looked like. Interestingly, I had not seen myself once in full bridal gear. I didn't stop to check my appearance all day, until I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the limo after the ceremony. It was scary! I seemed to have a crazed smile stretching my ruddy cheeks, a combination of blushing and tearing up that certainly betrayed my act as the calm, collected bride.

Bill and Brian, his best man, looked amazing in their tuxedoes. I have always been awed by Bill's father when he stands up in the pulpit and it was no different seeing him preside over our marriage. There was a warmth and familiarity in the way he led our ceremony, even a memorable pause when he got to the climactic pronouncement at the end. That really tickled Bill. We were shaky and awestruck and oblivious at the same time. When we were introduced as husband and wife and turned around to face the guests, I was shocked to realize how many people were there watching us!

We wanted to make the photo sessions short and sweet so we rushed through a series of pictures with our photographer after the ceremony. We were so lucky to get a photographer who brought two assistants and was discreet and fast with the photos. The reception hall provided us with a wedding coordinator for the day and we were pleased with her assistance and guidance in getting everything ready for our reception. I know I barely tasted the food, so did Bill. My good friend Kim said the best wedding card he received said simply, "Hope your smile muscles recover soon!" I think mine are still sore...

It really gets jumbled in my head after we headed to the reception. I know we tried to sneak in a few moments alone in the limo that whisked us from the church to the reception. I owe many thanks to Bill's brother, James, who flagged down the limo driver when he was in the neighborhood of the church. We were trying for a moment of privacy, giggling in the limo when I saw that Bill's other brother, John, was following the limo to the reception hall. That Smith family pops up everywhere!! Thankfully the tinted windows and bright sunlight allowed us to spy on them, not the other way around. I hope they enjoyed the scenic route to the reception hall.

I was most struck entering the Grand Ballroom where I was overwhelmed to see a hundred and thirty-some people waiting to greet us. It was amazing, beautiful, fun, happy...everything I wanted!

So far we have a few candid shots ready to post from the disposable cameras that were placed on the tables. Um, when someone shorter than you is snapping most of the pictures, well, the angle is...interesting. I loved having all those kids enjoying themselves at the reception. The fish prints I made to hold the table numbers caused quite a stir with the kids at the end of the meal. I think it started with one of the Davis' girls, asking for me to autograph the fish picture, and next thing you know, I'm surrounded by youngsters waving the prints at me and clamoring for my signature! That was a new one to me...Maybe it will replace throwing the bouquet??
I'm glad everyone enjoyed themselves. It was everything I wanted and more.
Thank you to everyone who made our day so special.



]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=18 Tue, 18 Jul 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

My sister wrote me these letters. She was in the middle of trying to sell her old & busted Honda after buying a nicer, used car when she had her brush with the hardened canteloupe-eating criminals of San Diego.

You can’t make this stuff up. My sister was not harmed by this crime and now, after years of driving around with no CD player in her car, she has been repaid with plenty of “Lo Mas Caliente del Reggaeton” and Gangsta Rap to enjoy in the CD player of her newly purchased Acura.


How to have your car stolen and like it - Part I

Here is a story with a moral.

As Sean and I turned into our parking lot getting home from the wine-tasting the other night around 11:30, all was as usual, except there was a group of four young people standing around a car parked in front of a unit across from ours. I thought: "Dang, they're going to be playing loud music like the kids on the other side last night", but no -- these were quiet. Good. I had a call shift to go to in the morning.

I stumbled out with no coffee and went to the hospital in a vaguely sleepy state. A couple of hours later Sean calls and asks me when was the last time I saw the Honda. Um, I didn't notice it on the way out, but then I would have missed an African elephant. I definitely did see it in our parking space the night before. He tells me it's missing, and we wonder if it was the kids we saw, and whether anybody else got hit.

Sean files a police report and an insurance claim. We figure it's already stripped in Mexico. This is slightly amusing, because the only reason we still had the car is that its registration sticker hadn't yet arrived in the mail so now it's not street-legal. The fee was paid long ago, and verified on-line, but for some reason the registration didn't get sent -- today was going to be my day to research why. Possibly that the smog shop didn't correctly transmit the certificate? That would be annoying because the thing probably wouldn't pass smog at this point.

Anyway I had left the valet key in the glove compartment, which is dumb, but hey I was about to ditch the car so I figured it wasn't a big deal. Evidently to some people it is.

Somehow about five hours after Sean reported the car missing, the cops actually caught the guy driving it in Escondido. He had a bunch of other car keys on the ring too (the cop was like "do you also own a Mercedes, a Ford, and several GM cars?") Dude is now in jail.

Keep in mind: this is the car that has a leaky piston ring, so it drinks about a half-quart of oil every time you drive it. We were kind of surprised it made it to Escondido.

Keep in mind also: this is the car that used to contain about 30% of my worldly possessions. I could never give anyone a ride without spending 15 minutes redistributing crap from the back seat to the trunk. In fact, there was so much junk crammed into the glove compartment, I had forgotten about the existence of the valet key, which was actually sitting buried in there for the entire six years I drove the car. When the officer asked "Was there anything in the car?" I laughed really loud and then explained that until a few days ago, the answer was yes, lots. But not anymore.

So, now I'm waiting to find out how we either get the car back from the towing company in Escondido, or convince them to just keep the darn thing and take it off our hands. "Tell you what: don't charge me any storage fees, and you can have the pink slip."


Moral Of The Story #1:


If you're going to steal a car, and you have a choice between hot-wiring a 1998 Acura in excellent condition, or using a key in plain view to take the 1991 Honda next to it that's inches from death and sports an expired registration sticker ... consider your options carefully. Or you may wind up busted for multiple auto thefts on account of a car worth less than $500.


Moral Of The Story #2:

If you need to get rid of a dying car and don't have time to get it to Father Joe, you may have success by leaving a key inside. You may wish to keep the doors locked so as not to make it too obvious.


That is all.

--Kathleen

How to have your car stolen and like it- Part II


So we both take off work early on Wednesday to schlep up to Escondido and retrieve the Honda. The impound lot is in a predictably ratty neighborhood, but the lady is nice and the process is pretty straightforward. $220 for the tow and storage, most of which will be reimbursed by insurance.

I drive the thing out to hand it over to Sean, and we notice there are a couple of items in the passenger seat and backseat that weren't there before. He says "pop the trunk" and we take a look.

Keep in mind: the cop asked me whether there had been anything of mine in the car, which there wasn't. The implication here being that the police noted what was present and chose not to remove it. Unless of course there was some contraband of the sort they care about and they did take it, which I'd rather not know.

The inventory of the passenger compartment is as follows:


one cigarette
four cigarette lighters (one shaped like a gun)
two tiny MP3 players
one portable CD player
an adapter to play the CD player through the cassette player
two CD's:
"Lo Mas Caliente del Reggaeton"
home-burned CD emblazoned "Gangsta MIX" in graffiti style lettering
one pair binoculars
one smallish blue sweatshirt
wool hat with brim
sun shield for the dashboard
half of a giant coke from McDonald's
four pennies
one chapstick



In the trunk:


one ripped-out dashboard CD player
box of drill bits & assorted tools such as to steal cars with
one XL-size black leather jacket
one large buck knife
flashlight
5 gallon gas can
small Gladware containing one bite of cantaloupe and a spoon



On the rear plate:


a current registration sticker, boosted, as evidenced by the slice in it


So apparently our hard-working thief brings his own lunch, likes hip-hop, and was using my car for his commute.

About an hour ago we finally sold the Honda to the guy who was about to buy it when it got stolen. He gave us a hundred bucks, which will cover the deductible for getting it back.

For sheer entertainment value, the whole thing was worth it.


--Kathleen


]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=16 Wed, 14 Jun 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

George Carlin does a famous routine about “stuff.” More specifically he defines a house as "a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get...more stuff!”

I have lots of stuff.

My impending move into a home with my future husband is looming large on the horizon. In less than a month I will bring my stuff to the apartment he rents now. That means it’s time to sort my stuff and pack it up. I’m faced with constant decisions about what to keep, what to get rid of and what to store. His apartment has limited space and we are going to have to share it for the first time.

These decisions are surprisingly stressful. I might want that stuff. I may need that stuff. Is there space for my stuff?!?

My loving fiancé has a simple solution: it’s all going to fit because we can get creative with space. We will have new stuff from all the generous wedding gifts. We can make decisions about what to keep and what to eliminate after we return from the honeymoon. Right now the priority is to clear out of my old apartment by wedding day.

He makes it sound so simple. Wait until he sees how much stuff I want to take with me on our honeymoon…

I like my stuff. I’m attached to my stuff. Separation from my stuff makes me nervous. When I get nervous, I crave junk food. This time it’s salty foods. Each time I throw away a box of stuff or pack away a bin for storage, I find myself drawn to the comfort of salty snacks. Nuts, chips, olives: their siren song happily replaces my worry about the stuff.

I recently discovered that his Siamese cat shares my craving for salty things. A bag of low fat baked cheesy curls got his attention. At first I thought it was just the crinkly texture of the bag but it turns out he actually consumes the cheesy poofs. This could prove to be a good negotiating tool, since the same cat likes to chew apart my belongings if he does not approve of their location. It means I’d have to share the salty snacks.

I have tough decisions to make about salty snacks and where to put my stuff. Remember the classic Star Trek episode about the salt vampire who appeared differently to each of the crew members, to attract them close enough to drain them of their vital sodium chloride or to sneak aboard the ship to consume all the salt shakers?

I checked to see if I’m turning into one of those. Seems the one in that episode was the last of her kind- I think I’m safe. The human in that episode is determined to protect the last shape-shifting salt sucker… he lets her move in, keeps her calm with salt tablets, even identifies her to others as his wife.

Bonus points if you know title of that episode?

It was "The Man Trap"

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=15 Thu, 8 Jun 2006 00:00:00 PST Bill

Since I can use this blog for whatever I want, I figured I might use it to also review the occasional film I find interesting to share. So here's my first review of what I hope to be many.

In short, I think Steamboy (2005) is interesting and different, pretty much family-friendly and worth taking a look at. This is an sci-fi "anime" (Japanese animation) style film. The 2D animation is augmented with 3D work, but even the 3D animation maintains a "hand-drawn" animated style. This permits an extraordinary level of detail. The same technique was used for The Iron Giant, and can produce amazing results. Most notably you'll find that anything large and mechanical in this film moves with a smoothness that the human animations do their best to keep up with. It's very effective.

The Plot

The year is 1866, and the setting is Manchester, England. This is an alternate universe where the concept of steam as a source of power and a springboard for technology has resulted in the development of advanced devices that can do almost anything.

Young boy-wonder-inventor's-son Ray Steam receives a package in the mail from his grandfather, who disappeared years ago with his father to mine for a "pure" water, something so free of impurities that it could be pressurized so highly that it almost becomes its own power source. Turns out the package Ray has received is his father's "steam ball", a sphere the size of a bowling ball, which contains water so highly pressurized that it can run thousands of mechanical devices almost indefinitely when the pressure is controlled and released properly. Dad and Granddad have figured out how to harness this pressure.

When the evil "Foundation" arrives to try to retrieve the steam ball, Ray's adventure begins. Through a series of harrowing events he finds himself in London, reunited with his father, as the steam ball is used to power the "steam castle", a colossal fortress that simply has to be seen to be believed.

Along the way we learn that London is hosting one of the world's first technology expos, and competing steam companies from around the world are meeting to win government bids for war weapons. These companies will stop at nothing, including starting a war with each other in the middle of London, to convince the world to buy their technology. When chaos ensues, Ray must choose sides, trying not to get himself and his friends killed in the process.

The Good

A few things make this movie a rewarding experience. The ideas are very innovative. The notion that you can pressurize water so densely that it can be used as a powerplant for steam-based devices is used in this film in very exciting ways, and you can tell that the creators had fun coming up with new inventions.

There are some really unique ideas for powering vehicles and weapons in a pre-combustion engine era. The vehicles and weapons themselves are big, loud, and creative above all things. Planes, trains and automobiles doesn't even come close to describing them. When you think you've seen the biggest thing these filmmakers can do, they unveil something bigger and more amazing.

Perhaps I could mention the zeppelin with a claw capable of tearing the top off a train car. Or maybe gigantic steam-powered hands chasing Ray, who is flying around on a wingless tripod-like device that uses steam as a propellant for flight. Or maybe the twin-bodied cruise ship with paddleboat features. I'm not even scratching the surface of the amazing inventions shown in this film. I love this stuff. The retro-futuristic vision isn't often done well in film.

The story, while not overall very exciting, moves the acts along very nicely, and each slow point is worth waiting through to get to the next action sequence. And I don't believe I've seen this kind of high-speed action in an animated film before. In some scenes too much is going on to even follow, and I really enjoyed seeing the wizardry in making it all happen. Especially in the action sequences, the animation is very smooth. The sound is loud (remember, steam is the driving force here), immersive and nuanced.

The Bad

Some of the characters are somewhat asinine (as is common in anime films), and you'll find yourself taking a look at your watch while you wait for the boy to brush off the very annoying spoiled little girl (named "Scarlett" of the "O'Hara" company, harhar) run around and, well, act spoiled. The only funny bits are when she bops her chihuahua on the head with her fist when it doesn't behave.

There's also a lot of semi-philosohphical dialogue on the role of science in a world undergoing an industrial revolution. I don't know if it was the translation from the Japanese or just a lack of interest in saying anything meaningful, but it was hard to follow the logical progressions. I think the term "science" was used too often as a catch-all word, when sometimes it meant technology and other times it meant knowledge. The message often descends into babble. There seemed to be a bit too much of an indictment upon science and technology in and of itself, and not enough on those who might twist it to evil ends. Two extremes are portrayed: the evil ones who only want to sell weapons, and the naive ones who want to make amusement parks. Steamboy's message is confusing, awkwardly explained, and really not worth paying attention to. I got the sense that the creators had some really cool ideas for gadgets and gizmos, and then tried to write a story around it. It's only slightly effective.

Finally, I found some of the English voice actors (Alfred Molina, Patrick Stewart and Anna Paquin) a bit too recognizable, and therefore somewhat jarring. Especially in their (largely successful) attempts at 1866 British accents. But this is a minor quibble.

Instead, enjoy the eye candy and edge-of-your-seat action sequences. The story is fine, and is really just a vehicle for the vehicles.

Final Word

Overall I highly recommend Steamboy as a popcorn film that is rich in detail and highly entertaining. The movie is a nice long length for an animated film (1:45), the climax is exciting, and the ending is satisfying and worthwhile. When you think this film can't get any bigger in scope, it does.

While the film is rated PG-13 (for violence only), it is mostly bloodless. The violence comes from the nature of large heavy equipment being used in what is essentially a glorified turf war. And it's interesting to see. It recalls shades of Federation-Republic battle sequences in the Star Wars prequel trilogy. Lots of death and destruction is shown, but not brutally so. There are no scenes that are adult in nature, and almost no strong language whatsoever. Steamboy could be run on prime-time TV with no editing.

I haven't seen the Director's Cut (20 minutes longer). Some say it fleshes out the story better, others say it drags on too long. I was perfectly satisfied with the short version, and think that 20 extra minutes is pretty much unnecessary. But otherwise, drop Steamboy in your Netflix queue and check it out!

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]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=14 Mon, 15 May 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

My sister and I returned to Virginia over Easter. We were there to scatter my Dad’s ashes. My father died last summer after a brief illness. At that time we were unable to discuss his final wishes. We were lucky that he left some instructions for us in his will. Since we’d become adults, he had told us that he wanted to go out of this world with as little fuss and bother as possible. His favorite idea for his own funeral was to do it “Viking style” where we’d strap him on his motorcycle and push him out to sea on a flaming pyre. The EPA seems to frown on that, so we had to come up with another plan.

We tried our best to fulfill his wishes. First, we arranged for his body to be cremated. This required dealing with a funeral home (no Viking funerals allowed) and we bravely met with the men in black suits. Oh, they were nice enough at the funeral home… they suggested rolling his big Honda Gold Wing into their chapel for a memorial service, using digital displays to project favorite photos and even serving punch and cookies if we wanted a more festive atmosphere. We politely declined.

Next we arranged for a memorial service to be held at the local community center. It was the same place we’d thrown him a surprise 70th birthday party and it seemed conservative enough for this summer get together. We had a brief service and lots of Carolina style barbeque. The local florist made us a gigantic motorcycle out of flowers and a professional photographer who knew my dad brought his camera and took plenty of pictures. Friends traveled from great distances, some on motorcycles. Next July there will be a Memorial Motorcycle Ride in my dad’s honor. I think that’s pretty cool.

Finally we agreed that there was no need to find a headstone or memorial plaque for my father’s ashes. It was harder to decide where to disperse them. My father wasn’t known as an outdoorsman or water enthusiast, but he had a great appreciation for natural beauty and memorable locations. He had a full career in the Navy and had a grudging respect for the years he spent aboard ships. The ocean seemed the best place and we decided to rent a boat and give him a final send-off.

I learned that there are a variety of burial at sea options available. We were offered everything from a fishing fleet to a 200-ft Coast Guard cutter. We settled on a 58 foot fishing charter out of Rudee Inlet in Virginia Beach. We informed all the friends and family of our plans and prepared to head out to sea. The night before our scheduled trip, the skies opened up and there was an awesome thunderstorm. My sister and I haven’t seen much thunder, lightening and driving rain since we’ve been living in San Diego, so we enjoyed the show. We sat back in our hotel room, turned out the lights and pulled back the curtains to “ooh” and “aah” as brilliant forks of lightening split the sky. Considering the recent tornados in the area, I don’t think the local residents enjoyed it as much.

The morning of the trip, I consulted with the captain and was reassured that the skies were clear out over the ocean. This wasn’t enough for some of the people we’d invited to go along. In the end only 4 of us boarded the aptly named High Hopes on that sunny Saturday. We brought along bunches of roses and carried my dad’s ashes in a carved chest that he’d used to keep his mementos.

The regulations wouldn’t allow us to toss the entire chest overboard so I volunteered to do the scattering of the actual ashes. They were in the container we’d received from the funeral home. As the big moment neared, I realized that the plastic container was tightly sealed. I panicked. There is nothing dignified about wrestling your way into a container just to have the contents pop out unexpectedly. I did this with M&Ms the last time I snuck them into a movie theatre. When I finally wrenched the bag open, they sprayed out all over the floor and rolled noisily down the aisles.

My cousin Fred had the answer. He had a Leatherman multi-tool on his belt, prepared for any fishing that might be going on later that day. The pliers and screwdriver permitted me easy access once I cut through the heavy plastic. As my sister said a few words, I carefully emptied the container over the side of the boat. The alert captain had positioned the boat so that the winds were favorable (no Big Lebowski moments) but the surface of the water was just out of reach. I realized with horror that the interior of this container was smudged with remnants and I had no way to clean it out, yet I couldn’t bear to bring it back on board. What to do???

As my sister finished her brief statement, I frantically looked around for something to wipe out the interior of the container. With great relief I spied a box of rose petals that we hadn’t emptied yet. I stretched out one arm and discreetly pulled over the box of roses. I managed to clean out all the ashes with a couple of wadded up handfuls of petals. I tried to do all this without drawing attention to the technical difficulties. This was a tearful, solemn moment, right?

When I turned around and looked on the deck, my sister had a wide eyed look. Then she burst into laughter. It was infectious- we were all giggling in no time.

The ride back to the dock was a pleasant time spent in the sun reminiscing about Dad’s funny tales, his weird habits and great times we’d shared with him. We continued chatting through a lovely lunch at a seafood restaurant on the Chesapeake Bay. It was a perfect wrap up to the day.



The only words I had selected to say as we headed out to sea had been chosen from Philippians 4:6-9


Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.


Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

Thanks Dad.
Peace.

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=13 Fri, 12 May 2006 00:00:00 PST Bill

So Teri and I spent a little time a few weeks ago deciding on the color coordination of outfits for the wedding party. We arrived at this very nice turquoise pattern for my vest and bowtie. Simple enough to pick them up and then set about acquiring the tux, right? Right.

You see, nobody wears bowties that you actually tie anymore. You can't get them at a tux shop. Not only has the wraparound clip-on bowtie become mainstream, but it seems that fashion has adapted to this as well. Shirt collars are intended for that thin strip of fabric around the neck. Traditional bowties that you physically tie are now called "old style". Do I care? Nah, not too much.

Until I get razzed a bit by a co-worker: "What if you want to go all James Bond at the end of the evening and let it hang loose? Do you want a thingy dangling from one end?" Argh. Can't be all that hard to get a real bowtie, right? Maybe even have one made if I can get half a yard of the fabric. As reality would have it, not only does a tux shop have a total inability to identify (let alone contact) the manufacturer of an item, not only do such manufacturers not even produce "old style" bowties anymore, but it also seems we may have chosen a pattern that is proprietary to the manufacturer. Figures.

I've received some good recommendations from people in the know about how to secure a big enough sample of the fabric, or maybe even get a custom job done. All this for a tie. Doesn't matter that I've never tied a bowtie in my life and am not quite sure how I'll figure that out. Doesn't matter that I probably wouldn't let it hang loose at the end of the evening anyway. You do this once in a lifetime, right?

It tasks me, and I shall have it.

Am I putting FAR too much attention on such a trivial thing, when my energies would be better spent on logistical and spiritual preparation for this special event? Probably.

But I'll give it the old college try before letting go!

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=12 Mon, 8 May 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

At a recent visit to the San Diego Zoo, I happened across an extraordinary display from the elephants. I recall the tour guide described one of the Asian elephants as “quite different” from the other two. I thought she seemed more active as she rolled around some toy that looked like an enormous octagonal die from Dungeons and Dragons. As we circled the exhibit, this “different” girl and a female African elephant lined up and began swaying and lifting their feet. They were dancing.

Is it possible that elephants dance?

There are many curious things about elephants. I know they are one of the most dangerous animals to keep in captivity, responsible for more human deaths than other zoo or circus animals. I know they live a long time, have complex infrasonic communication and show evidence of good memories. Don’t forget the significance of elephants in the history of battles, in all sorts of religions. How about their awesome scenes in Lord of the Rings: Return of the King?

Consider that humans have been working with elephants for centuries. That must lead to some interesting dynamics. Obviously there is competition for land, for dominance. There are descriptions of elephants who cry, who maintain graveyards, who get drunk and go on rampages. Their stories are quite compelling. They are strange, yet familiar creatures. I have also fallen into the trap of this anthropomorphism.

Recently the San Diego zoo came under criticism because they shipped out three of their beloved elephants from the Wild Animal Park to the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago. All three of the elephants died a short time later. The Wild Animal Park has a magnificent facility where they are learning about elephants and they are seeking solutions to the habitat needs of African elephants. I definitely think this facility is better suited than any Zoo for keeping elephants. I worry about the girls living in the urban San Diego Zoo facility. How did they get chosen to live in the middle of the city? Wouldn’t they be healthier at the Wild Animal Park? Are Dungeons and Dragons dice plus spontaneous dance competitions enough to keep them happy??

http://www.sandiegozoo.org/wap/ex_elephants.html

http://www.sandiegozoo.org/membership/elephant_project.html

I don’t know what the elephants need. I do think they are amazing and fascinating creatures.

And so I watched their dance.

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=11 Wed, 3 May 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Watching a recent television broadcast of the movie “Die Hard With a Vengeance” I realized it was very different from any other version I’d seen. Samuel L. Jackson says “Oh dear!” when huge exploding objects are hurtling towards him and when Bruce Willis offends him he calls him “a racist melon farmer!”

Also I learned from a commercial that the new version of the Village People gather around when you begin change your car’s oil. First your neighbor appears, then a cowboy with his own tumbleweeds, then a firefighter, then a security guard complete with his own velvet rope, finally a hockey player. Makes sense.

Note to self: change the oil in the car. Bring enough cash for the cover charge.

Commercials are beyond annoying.

This is why I’m so fond of TiVo or the alternate DVR available from my local cable company aka DiVo. I can skip commercials. I missed my DiVo while on this trip. Not only was the movie full of plot holes big enough to drive a dump truck through, I found this movie was totally impausible.

As Bruce Willis says, "Yippee ki-yay, my friend."

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=9 Sun, 16 Apr 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

I am accustomed to my friends referring to their pets as children. I am not accustomed to seeing them purchase packages of Pampers for them. Recently my friend's dog went into heat and apparently the cost-effective solution for large breed dogs is to buy toddler sized Pull-ups for them to wear. The image of him standing in line with a package of Pull-ups for his one year old dog just made me laugh. Do you think the dog cares that he purchased the pink ones with images of Disney princesses all over them? Thank goodness humans don't broadcast their hormonal status so loudly that dogs three blocks away are doing flips to get over fences and impress them. Or do we?

Recently I heard a guy complaining that his boss filed a grievance over his failure to shave each morning. The masculine nature of facial hair is apparently a threat to productivity everywhere. I have known men who used their vacation time to grow in a beard, admiring their work over time with a wicked gleam in their eyes. It became their biggest accomplishment and the most common subject of conversation when they returned to work. The presence or absence of this fur is quite a big deal. Too bad they don't pay as much attention to their ear hair.

This same guy with the distracting five o'clock shadow declined to try a tofu appetizer over lunch due to the fact he "heard that soy contains a lot of estrogens." Gads. Estrogen is even more threatening than testosterone I guess. My fiancé recently stood in the door and announced, "I'm bloated. My pants don't fit right." I'm thinking, "That's MY line!" I at least had a calendar to back me up thanks to nature's predictability. Do either of us have exclusive rights to bloat? What is the cumulative effect of mixed gender bloat?? When we're married, will the effect of pheromones combine so that one week each month we will swell to Hindenburg sized proportions?

Oh, the humanity. Now where are my drawstring pants…

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=8 Mon, 10 Apr 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

From an article about the modern bride-turned-mutant-dinosaur phenomenon as described by Noe Spamme:

[side note: I also wanted to name a pet "Spam" for a while. Spam and Spackle. Too much alliteration. Not a very good sandwich either.]

Bridezilla.

bridezilla (bryd.ZIL.uh) n. A bride-to-be who, while planning her wedding, becomes exceptionally selfish, greedy, and obnoxious. Also: bride-zilla.

Bridezilla is a combination of bride and Godzilla, the mutant dinosaur created by U.S. hydrogen bomb testing in the Pacific that, in numerous films in the 50s and 60s, would wade onto land and destroy everything in its path. The bridal version of this monster is created by the maniacal need to have "the perfect day" and she'll walk over anyone and everything to get it.

Author and etiquette expert Gail Dunson, who goes by pen name, Noe Spaemme, has written a book about this scary new breed of brides roaming the earth and she's got some advice for the newly engaged on how to avoid becoming a Bridezilla. The following are some of Dunson's tips on taming your inner Bridezilla:

• Remember to say thank you and cultivate an attitude of gratefulness.
  
  
• Avoid talking about nothing but the wedding from the time you are engaged. It will bore people and you'll lose friends. Leave a little suspense for the wedding! Don't tell everyone what your dress looks like. Keep a little mystery.
  
  
• Plan appropriately for receptions, and do not make guest pay for drinks or dinner or anything else. If you can't afford a sit-down dinner, don't have an evening wedding. Don't plan over-the-top weddings and expect other people to pay for it. Cash registries are wrong, wrong, wrong. Any kind of gift registry information should never go in your invitations!
We all love witnessing bad behavior and feeling the superior glow it gives us. None of us, of course, would behave that way.

Have I become a bridezilla?
• Remember to say thank you and cultivate an attitude of gratefulness.
I try to end my 20 emails per day with thank you. I have to be in contact with the florist, the coordinator, the balloon lady, the online vendors, eBay, my guests, my fiancé, the local news. I'll put a huge font "THANK YOU" into my signature tag. Will that convey my attitude??
• Avoid talking about nothing but the wedding from the time you are engaged. It will bore people and you'll lose friends. Leave a little suspense for the wedding! Don't tell everyone what your dress looks like. Keep a little mystery.
I made sure the header on the email I sent out with pictures of me in my dress said "Do not let Bill see these!!!" so the groom would be surprised. Keeping the suspense going…
• Plan appropriately for receptions, and do not make guest pay for drinks or dinner or anything else. If you can't afford a sit-down dinner, don't have an evening wedding. Don't plan over-the-top weddings and expect other people to pay for it. Cash registries are wrong, wrong, wrong. Any kind of gift registry information should never go in your invitations!
Of course I'm planning the budget carefully and would never ask for money or gifts. Not besides the hundreds of items we just scanned into this nifty computer uplink at the local Bed, Bath and Beyond…

I see what the problem is now. I need to stop using the computer and I'll avoid all bridezilla tendencies. I'm going to do that. Just as soon as I post this blog.
]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=7 Fri, 31 Mar 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Goby is a fun word.

It's one of those words that sounds strange if you say it 10 times.

The 5 gallon coral reef tank has a new goby in it.

The new goby has no name. Bill says he doesn't name fish. I've always wanted to name a pet "Spackle."

When my sister and I shared an apartment, two neighborhood cats would often invite themselves in, especially if we were carrying groceries. They never offered to help with the groceries. Mostly their visits consisted of prowling around under the beds then announcing that they wanted something at maximum volume. At that point we would show them the door. I wasn't sure where these cats lived or if they had names but they obviously had owned some humans somewhere. One was tremendously fat, the other was thinner but healthy. I named them Spackle and Grout. Grout was the fat one.

Currently I only have one named fish: Homer. He's a male sunset fire platy with an exceptionally yellow hue. He used to have a mate named "Marge" and offspring named "Bart" and "Lisa" but I lost track of his progeny after 2 fish turned into 20. The wonders of fish reproduction!

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=3 Thu, 16 Mar 2006 00:00:00 PST Bill

So I've become somewhat distressed and incredibly angry at the fear the conservative political and media elements seem to be expressing over "V for Vendetta," a movie that shows a modern-day revolution against an oppressive government in a parallel universe.

In links on the Drudge Report today, I see blurbs saying that terrorists are sympathized with and called "revolutionaries", as if it is something that honors or celebrates terrorism. The links have been removed. Does anybody really know anything about this film? It's not a film about terrorism against any real-world government today; it reflects a British government in the future that has gone so extreme as to have become fascist. Even nazi-type symbols are shown in the film. What seems to infuriate conservatives is the use of current ideas, such as "freedom vs. security" (Patriot Act), and it seems that conservatives are so sensitive and emotional these days as to take such film fantasies as personal. Folks, guess what happens when people give up all freedoms for total security? You get the oppressiveness of the British government in "V"! Is anyone attacking the Patriot Act in this film? Of course not! As I will say about ten more times, this is a warning about finding the limits of the freedoms you will give up (limits of time and expansion), and keeping your government accountable to you!

Does the British government in "V" echo some of the conservative sentiments in the United States today? Maybe, but only if taken to an extreme level. ANY political viewpoint, conservative or liberal, taken to an extreme, can be a danger to its people. "V" is a warning of extremism.

Most importantly, I might note that in V, the "vendetta" carried out is against government officials and those considered the "guilty". There is a distinct effort to avoid the harming of innocents. It is this distinction which separates "V" from real terrorists. Terrorism is about body count. Revolution is about freedom. "V" is about freedom.

Headlines on Drudge would probably call people "terrorists" who were indeed "revolutionaries" 200-plus years ago! Of course the British government in the 18th century called the American Revolutionaries "terrorists"! Any government that has become so oppressive as to squelch human rights begs for a revolution! Do I think the current U.S. government has become that? No! So why should I fear this movie?!?!?

Have we as Americans allowed our government to become the very essence of the British crown we overthrew two hundred years ago? "V" suggests we must be vigilant. Yes, there's murder and assassination in the film. Yes, the House of Commons is blown up. Do you think any American Revolutionary wouldn't have attempted the same given the chance in 1776? It was guerilla tactics at the outset of the American Revolution. When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary...one acts. Why can't one act similarly against a Hitleresque government in a fantasy film without bringing down the fury of the people and being called "terrorist"? Perhaps it hits too close to home to conservatives who have lost their way and are flirting with extremism? Conservatism used to be about small government. "V" indicts the bloated juggernaut that fascism brings. Is the U.S. government flirting with extremism? A sensitivity to this film suggests something interesting, doesn't it?

So why can't we watch a movie about a modern-day or futuristic revolution against an oppressive government without calling it an attack on Conservatism?

Conservatives should celebrate this movie as educational; It is the oft-repeated warning that with power comes responsibility, and we should be thankful to the Wachowskis that they care enough to express those concerns. Especially when there seems to be quite a disparity now between what is "conservative" and what is "Republican". I'm not surprised that terms like "neocon" are coined by people who see the difference getting wider and wider.

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=2 Mon, 13 Mar 2006 00:00:00 PST Teri

Welcome to our diary of random thoughts from the land of felines and tropical fish.

No, really. There are more pets than people here.

I rent a small room in a friend’s condo. It’s about twelve feet by sixteen feet. In this space I have three freshwater fish tanks: a ten gallon, a five gallon and a three gallon vase with a giant peace lily growing out of the top. I also have my own bathroom. My favorite iridescent purple half-moon betta lives in there, in a one and a half gallon tank. With a snail.

I know. There’s a diagnosis in all that.

This is nothing compared to my fiancé. His two bedroom/two bath apartment contains nine separate bodies of water to house all kinds of fish. And two cats.

What do we have in common? Well, keeping tropical fish is the obvious big attraction. We also have a deep fondness for obscure music, movies, sushi and living in coastal California. Don’t get hung up on the sushi thing - the fish in our tanks will not be served for dinner. Bill has got a great set of sushi knives... Nah.

Putting everything on our home Web page seemed the best way to share our dysfunction and volumes of photos. We just got engaged and I think this is a therapeutic step towards revealing all our weirdness before we tie the knot. Feel free to add comments, ask questions, suggest obscure music.

I found a great quote that sums up my writing difficulties.

"I have made this longer than usual, only because I have not had the time to make it shorter." - Blaise Pascal

Bill's suggestion was to have me blog to learn to write more succinctly and keep on a single topic. One topic is just so boring... but I digress.

Another suggestion Bill made was for me to write short reviews of movies, books, plays, music- the kind of things we enjoy discussing with our friends over dinner.
I'm going to try this approach and see what you think.

Today’s movie pick: “50 First Dates” (2004)

The soundtrack reminds me of island living and the cast obviously had some fun filming in Hawaii. It makes me smile without having to exercise my bwain too much. Enjoy.

How's that for short and sweet?

]]> http://www.smithpad.com/blog.asp?ID=1 Fri, 3 Mar 2006 00:00:00 PST