rock and seaweed

rocks

Big C in Sea Town

List Fun

I can’t help thinking how weird and cool it is that because I’m pregnant with a boy I have a penis.

The shower was splendid, we’ve been gifted with a ton of great baby items--Thanks people!

Proof that you have little control over pregnancy weight gain: In Seattle, I ate a lot of everything I wanted (including dessert every night) and rarely exercised. I gained no weight—thank god.

A swelling recipe that really works: Boil a bunch of fresh parsley with a lemon until it’s a green sludgy mess—drink it and water be gone!

A good way to test people’s sense of humor when they ask you “Are you excited to have a baby?” is to tell them you’re really glad Massachusetts has a ‘safe haven’ law (which is something like a car lemon law for babies, allowing you to drop off your unwanted baby at any fire station within 7 days of birth without being prosecuted).

Another good test of humor: When people ask what you’re naming your baby, tell them the most horrendous names possible, with a straight face, and watch them squirm. Our standard joke name is Donald Chuck. Donald is Papa Mallet’s name and Chuck is Papa Todd’s name. As individual names, they’re just fine but in combination……

Pregnancy dreams increase in bizarritude the further along you are.
Examples: I killed someone, Hid out in-disguise in an old folks home then climbed a tree full of cats.

crabby

Crabby

I'm a crabby crabby lady these days.

Here's why:

I'm freaking tired like the worm jumping to get out of the Mexican bean. Our bed is HORRENDOUSLY hard and my ample portions and weight is really taking its toll on my relationship with Mr. Sandman. Rolling requires Alex to hoist/flop me over. Getting out of bed requires a 3-point turn and wrestling the Anaconda (a giant U-shaped pregnancy body pillow) is becoming more work every day.

I'm so crabby I can't even get creative enough to write anything else.

Showers, Showers and Showers

Off we go to Seattle to visit family and friends. The photographer in me has been in hibernation and is expected to awaken during this trip.

For now it's later to Boston Showers as we head to the land of Showers for our baby Shower...

UPDATE: Not to So Live Wire

UPDATE: Ahhh, the wonders of 'sleeping on it' and also inconsistent montitors. That said, I have officially decided that I DO NOT like this photo anymore. I'm looking at it and wondering why I thought it was redeeming. I'm my own best critic.

I took this photo a while back while visting my brother-in-law, Victor, in Philadelphia.
Some might think it's dull or wonder why someone who fancys themselves a photographer would post such a photo. Here's my explaination: I like this photo because of its simplicity. I like that the only color comes from the only non-straight edge in the frame. True, I did render everything but the wire blk & wt, but the shot was essentially pretty monochrome anyway.

I asked my photo editor, Alex, what he thought and he said "uhm.. I don't really know what to make of it" and then I asked my French Fashionista Friend Geoffrey what he thought and he didn't have much to add at first and then he asked me about the color. Upon telling him what I did he said it reminded him of the girl in the red coat in Shindler's list. Interesting.

Contrail Over Jamaica Pond

Channeling Shamoo

IM conversation with sister in The Land of Milk and Honey

Sister: Are you swelling yet? I had terrible swelling in my hands, feet and ankles when I was pregnant.

Me: Nope not me! Aren’t I lucky?

Stupid, Stupid me. I jinxed myself—24 hours later I’d be looking at my man hands and sausage toes.

Flax seed, Lemon juice, Gallons upon Gallons of water, Dandelion tincture—did they help? Not really.

And then, I attempted what I thought I’d never do….. I put on my Shamoo suit and hit the pool.

I’ve chosen the Orca as my swimming mascot, which seems a natural choice given my NW roots and my swimming costume, which is clearly in fitting with the Orca color scheme, black and white--black maternity bathing suit and white winter skin.

Flippers on, kick-board in hand and off I go, and so do the man hands and sausage toes.

Lesson of the day: When you feel like a whale, act like one.

HypnoNapping

I'm going to count down from 5 and when I get to 1 you will be………………………………………………………..

Then..... I wake up and..... "Wait where am I, what happened?"

Falling asleep is what's happened 2 of the 4 times I’ve attempted practice my Hypnobirthing program.

It's clear I have no trouble relaxing, but if I’m asleep through half of the program it’s pointless and I have to start again. The program I’m using consists of a bunch of CDs that I need to start listening to at the beginning of my 7^th month (yes, I’m that far along.. . holy mole, that’s a bit scary) and I'm supposed to listen to each program 7 consecutive times. With my amazing ability to conk out, I’m going to need the gestational period of an elephant to get through the entire program before the little man arrives.

Restoration

My parents' wedding, August 28, 1971.

My mom sent me this photo to fix up which I was happy to do--it was simple and only took about 15 minutes--just the crease at the top, a bit of discoloration and few splotches really.

More restoration: Mommy Restored & Kleiner Alex

Once we move back to The Land of Milk and Honey I plan to have my own photography business (portraiture) and I think photo restoration, in addition to stock photography, would be a nice addition. Why? Because unless you can time travel, photo memories are all you’ve got and they’re probably faded, yellowed, and on non-archival photo paper, which means they will continue to age. That's were I come in. Give me your photo, I'll scan it and spruce it up and even make prints on my fancy photo printer which uses archival quality inks and paper--these images should last 300 years, or so they say.

Word of warning: If you are printing your digital images and then dumping the files you are going to be sorry. The paper most prints are made on is good for about 7 years , after that you're going to get fading and discoloration. Be sure to save all of your images on a CD, whether you think you'll print them or not. Dad, remember this please. :)

Film Crime vs. Film Punishment

Crime and Punishment, the sweater

Match Point Yeah! Enduring Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment has finally paid off and I'm now talking to you from my high-brow-smarty-pants soap-box because it's completely clear from my classically read mind that Crime and Punishment was Woody Allen’s inspiration for this film. Crime and Punishment is long, really long and I don't recommend you read it unless you like classic novel torture or you find yourself in a cell, being punished for a crime. I endured all 5 badillion hours of Crime and Punishment on cd, mind you while knitting an atrocious sweater which has aptly been named Crime and Punishment because it was a crime to knit and is punishing to wear. Okay I'm off topic, Match Point is indeed a sexy thriller--see it.

Good Night and Good Luck... is all I have to say to those planning on watch this movie. I feel like a real lamo for not catching this film’s brilliance. Maybe it’s my lacking attention span, or my ability to fall asleep in 10 minutes flat, but nothing about this movie rocked my world. To me, it was like sitting in on a bunch of really boring meetings--probably along the lines of what it must be like for sons or daughters on take your kiddie to work day. I had to listen too hard to follow and there was no eye candy, be it human or landscape. Good Night and Good Luck with this one.